Saturday, March 16, 2013

Weather. Just like . . . life?

One minute I am complaining and crying that winter will last until . . . forever.

Then, suddenly, it’s near 70 – kids are running around outside, and wearing shorts, and . . . running around outside some more.

It’s just like life, isn’t it. Just when you think things can’t get any worse, they do.

Oh. Oops. Wait. No. That was not what I meant to say. That is not what it is like. Let’s see: winter never ending . . . suddenly it’s spring . . .

Oh! Yes. Just like life – just when everything seems dreary, impossible and hopeless; suddenly – spring!

Enough. I’m pretending. No metaphor-like thoughts are floating through my head at all. I just wanted to post some cute pictures of Goldie climbing our fence and playing on our swing-set yesterday.

This was the real depth of my thoughts: We had several perfectly perfect days this week. They won’t stay. Not yet. But while they were here, everyone – excited by the novelty of warm weather -- spent every possible moment of every day outside.

That was it.

And then I had some pictures. IMG_5019_edited-1

I don’t know a thing about comparing life to weather.

I was just being fancy.

Now. More of Goldie enjoying a spring day:IMG_5051_edited-1IMG_5028_edited-1IMG_5034_edited-1IMG_5077_edited-1IMG_5053_edited-1

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Thursday, March 14, 2013

The Easiest Word

The other day, after spying a small pile of brightly colored animals left behind by one of his sisters, Anders pulled himself up on his dad’s “head of the table” chair, settled himself – legs dangling – and had a little play. Animals bonked one another’s heads in happy acknowledgment and spoke greetings in fairly constant, friendly sounding gibberish.

I watched. And oh good heavens.

Love. Adore. Crazy about. Enchanted.

No. It’s no use. The words twist and tumble in my brain – banging into one another and scrambling together – as I try to discover the right ones. The exact right ones. The ones that are powerful enough.

It only makes me dizzy.

There is a sturdy, round and soft, little person – 17 1/2 months old – who runs about this house, zips along through every moment of our comings and goings and living, who drives little cars, and demands little drinks, and hugs little blankets, and . . . is mine. My very own boy.

And that doesn’t really describe anything at all.

Only . . . oh my. It feels like it describes something more than kingdoms and gold, more than oceans and mountains; something more than the very sun rising.

This little boy, those little hands, playing with these little animals.

My little boy.

I will just settle for the one easiest word. Love. I love him. So much I love him.

Tuesday, March 12, 2013


I was talking with my sister on the phone the other day when she said something about being content – something about life being pretty great right now.

“Shhhhh!!” I cried – practically reaching my hand through the phone to cover her mouth, looking around nervously as I did so in case anyone might have overheard.

Then we laughed as I admitted my terrible fear that – emit so much as a tiny sigh of contentment, an offhanded mention of ease; and the fierce, dark wind of trial and difficulty will whip its blustery head about and come, train like -- whistles blowing and nostrils flaring -- furious and straight at you. (Though I suppose “flaring nostrils” aren’t really train-like. Bull like?)

“Maybe you have more trials than you think,” she offered, trying to calm me. “Some people seem to focus on their problems so much that it seems like their lives are full of misery. Maybe you are having trials, but just focusing on the positive things in life. I mean, you have six small kids to take care of, a busy church calling, a husband who is gone most of the time . . .”

“Oh,” I moaned, waving my hand dismissively, knowing there was no fooling anybody. “Heavenly Father knows I’m fine with all of that.”

And I am. Life is lovely. I love my full and wild home. I sometimes snap at my kids. I sometimes feel very stressed. I am, more often than I care to admit, slightly grumpy.

But I have friends who are dealing with such miserable and difficult things – things they are handling with strength and grace and unbelievable faith (along with inevitable moments of screams, fist pounding and tears). And, because the very nature of their trials is so private, they are doing all of this without the pats on the back, the praise, encouragement, and cheering support they deserve.

It feels unfair to have everything so bright just now. It is unfair. Life is for learning. And growing. And . . . testing. It makes me feel almost nervous, and definitely guilty. My home. My husband. My kids. My life. So happy.

Still, I know Heavenly Father appreciates gratitude. I know it pleases Him for me to go through life recognizing all this goodness – being extremely grateful for it. Somehow living with an attitude of, “just wait, you’ll get what misery’s coming for you” doesn’t seem quite right.

I forget that life isn’t just for the character defining moments of near-drowning. Life is also . . . sometimes . . . simply for enjoying.

Isn’t it?

In case I’m wrong, and if anyone should ask you, or, you know, be listening at they key hole, my life is really hard and miserable right now. Really miserable. IMG_4749_edited-1IMG_3606_edited-2IMG_4795_edited-1IMG_4773_edited-2IMG_4835_edited-1IMG_3723_edited-1IMG_4769_edited-1IMG_4777_edited-1IMG_4853_edited-1IMG_4883_edited-1IMG_4884_edited-1

And, from the cell phone:
2013-03-08 21.35.1720130307_171120_020130306_184758_020130305_183933_020130307_173239_0DSC_0015_020130307_19200620130307_201403_020130312_14205020130309_193312DSC_0030_0DSC_0033_0

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