Disconnected Offerings

My mom emailed me a little reply, as she often does, in response to my last blog post. I know the story well — the beginning of my mom’s reading of chapter books to her kids — but it’s such a dear, happy image (and I love so much that the tradition continues with her own kids reading the very same books to her grandkids) that I wanted to keep her comment recorded here:

Watership Down!  Oh, memories!  You might not remember but I think what started all of this was a baby gift Penny sent to newborn John -- a copy of The Hobbit, with the following inscription:  "This is a rather dangerous book, and should be previewed by John's older brothers" (who were five and four at that time).  So in the evening when it was time to nurse the baby, I read to them, and somehow nobody felt neglected because I had to spend time with the baby.  Oh Penny -- the wisest of all!  And the older brothers took their responsibility seriously.  When the trolls had captured the hobbits and had them hanging in bags in a tree while the trolls decided whether to boil, mince, or fry them, Tony stopped me.  "I think this is getting too scary for the baby!"  he insisted, trembling.  Checking ahead, I was able to assure him that Bilbo was about to rescue them in just a minute.  But those big brothers were really on guard!

And it was kind of wonderful to re-read some of these best ones to a second or even third generation of little ones who had never gone hobbiting or to the Downs, or to the Mines of Moria with their older siblings!

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I continue to have various frustrations in regards to this coronavirus pandemic of course, but not fear any more. But when things first began and stores were running out of things and there seemed to be a bit of hysteria, I did feel some initial fear. After praying for several days, I quickly jotted down these thoughts and feelings. I came across them again the other day and found they applied to more than just that space of time and decided to put them here as well:

There are things God has for me and each of my kids to do ahead. Plans he has for us. Any natural disasters or trials or calamities aren’t just independent things that might interfere with that truth. Wading through them, and choosing how, and learning from them will strengthen our faith and become an important part of the journey towards the things He has ahead for us. These things are preparatory and God will use them to strengthen and teach me and prepare me to do and understand even more ahead. That will be true with any future difficulty or disaster. He does not relinquish his control and the quicker we work to trust him and seek what he would have us do with where we are at (even if we feel guilty for not being as prepared as we should have been) the sooner he can mold this to good and use us and train us for his purposes. Don’t feel fear. Feel hope and trust and determination to rise to the challenge and see what he will do through and for you. And what it will lead you to. All is well. All is well. We are in his hands and not forsaken and the quicker we turn to him and trust that that is true (rather than let fear or guilt put a barrier to that belief) the sooner we free ourselves from Satan’s chains and rid ourselves of the lies and fears he tries to quickly wrap around us. There may be difficult things ahead. But Christ already sees them and will hold us by the hand and lead us through each one — showing us what to do and giving us help and hope. So we don’t need to fear. (Also! Be determined and excited! You WERE prepared for these very things! You might balk and feel discomfort or fear initially. But it doesn’t change the fact that you have work to do in and through these hard things! And the Lord will lead you by the hand reminding you of all of it!)

I think the idea that jumped out at me as I re-read these thoughts was that the troubles that come are not interruptions, rather they are part of the journey towards all we need to accomplish and become and all we need to learn about trust and hope and our Savior's power to mend. It reminds me of one of my favorite things Howard W. Hunter ever said: "Our detours and disappointments are the straight and narrow path to Him."

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Kids and chalk. They typically manage to coat the seat of their pants with it and then run right in to sit on our blue couches.

Hans. Some days we don't manage to get him settled for a nap. But then ... he seems to settle himself to one all right.

I took some pictures of kids in our van in May and June. I think I was planning to do a little "scenes from the van" photo of each of them for Instagram. But I never got Goldie. Or Hans. And Abe left on his mission again. And the ones I got of Daisy I posted in the farm post awhile back. And I forgot about them for awhile. Anyway, here are a few from the van. Perhaps I will re-visit this idea afresh later.

Kids playing around outside.

Hansie after a tumble into a table edge and several stitches. "I'll be brave if the doctor gives me a shot," he said through his sniffles as he was carried out the door with a towel pressed firmly to his bleeding head.

The End.

Two Bad Things. One Good Thing. School. And BYU.

Bad Thing: On Mette's birthday she asked if I would paint her fingernails and toenails (along with Summer's). It's no simple process as they both require different colors for nearly every nail; but it was her birthday, so it had to be done. 

While I was about this task, Hans must have gotten a bit ... bored? curious? or??? I don't know. But he took a bottle of pink nail-polish without my knowing, went outside, and painted, willy-nilly, over every single one of our cars. 

Bless his three-year-old heart, he shan't live this down. 

Obviously nail-polish remover cannot be used on car paint, and the baking sun had dried all of it long before we could set to work removing it. The only thing that worked was scrubbing each spot until you almost lost the will to go on ... with Clorox wipes, which, most of you know, pretty much don't exist anymore (Daisy found a few hidden ones in a container in her bathroom). It was not pleasant work, and I still can't believe we ever got it all off!

Bad Thing: Our water manifold developed an enormous leak last week. We were several days with no water. No water in a house with this many kids is not something I hope to ever experience again (bless our pioneer ancestors' hearts!). Oh we had plenty of water bottles to drink all right, but there are just so many things one hardly notices they use water for until it's gone! Not just the little matter of showering and dishes and loads of laundry, and cooking, but ... for spilled milk on carpets. And sticky babies covered in fruit. And kids covered in cement chalk. And a bed-wetting accident (which we haven't had for months and months, so it would happen while our water was off of course). And for flushing toilets (it's lucky it was summer as our outside hoses were still bringing reservoir water -- which I hauled by bucketfuls to fill our toilet tanks when toilets needed flushing).

But, it was miraculous that Mike discovered the leak before it flooded our basement. And perhaps equally miraculous that he was able to figure out the whole complicated repair process without us needing to hire a plumber. 

Good Thing: I haven't read a chapter book out loud to my kids for several years. Years? Maybe? Yipes. Can that be true? I read them all A Face Like Glass two or three years ago. I might have read them The Wolves of Willoughby Chase after that? Anything since? I can't recall! Mike has read to them (The Hobbit, etc.) but I think I mostly haven't. But! I started reading Watership Down to Pen, Jesse and Anders the last week of summer. I love that book. Summer and Mette, who understood little at all of it, would come snuggle by me as I read, and even Daisy and Goldie (who I read it to years ago) couldn't resist stopping what they were doing to come and listen for a second time. We are only a third of the way through. (They've befriended and cared for Kehaar and he's just discovered General Woundwort's warren for them. Ohhh those rabbits don't know what they are in for! Nor do my kids who thought Bigwig being caught in a snare in Cowslip's warren was adventure and danger enough!) Anyway, there is nothing that makes me happier or more content than reading a book I enjoy to my kids. It made the end bits of summer seem extra happy for me.

School: Well, they are back! The kids. To school. At least for now? I'm crossing my fingers they won't send them all home for online learning ... and bring them back and send them home and bring them back again. And I'm incredibly discouraged that they are learning through the restriction of mandated face masks. But also ... I don't know. I don't feel hopeless about it all. It feels like somehow we will weather and muddle through it however it plays out. And my kids will adapt. And I will. There will be resilience. And, even if the circumstances and the learning itself end up being a bit subpar this year, I really feel we will all be fine in the long run. And, at least two days in, they all seem pretty eager and excited about it all! (Though the eagerness that had them all up and 100% ready a full hour before we needed to leave only lasted for the first day.)

BYU: The very same day the kids began school, Daisy was scheduled to check in to her dorm at BYU! Mike and I took her down and got her all settled. I kept telling her how she could call all the time and come home every weekend if she wanted -- even just for a night if she needed. It wasn't long before I realized all my reassuring her was really just ... an attempt to reassure myself. Sniffle. Such a strange and big thing to send her out of our house not knowing if she'll ever truly live here again. She might of course. (That's another thing I kept reassuring "her" with: "And if you don't love BYU, you can always just transfer to Weber State!") And she will be here for summers and hopefully at least some weekends. But not just here for Starling to run to or to take the girls off to Target, etc. And the thought makes me lonesome. 

On the other hand. It really is so great that we can call and text multiple times a day. It doesn't have the same dramatic feel as a mission when days go by without knowing if they are fine or sick or hanging out in a flooded apartment as Abe was a week ago. 

And it was a happy little atmosphere on campus and around her dorm. And I am excited for her to have this new experience. Even if I miss her being right here with me!

 

Two Birthdays and a Bit More

My bedroom floor and bed are completely covered with books opened up and standing like tents -- toy motorcycles, airplanes and cars parked around and inside of them; and I'm typing this in the midst of a mass of wires, electronics, and kid papers.

It often seems that nine kids aren't possibly living in this house. (And that any visitor stopping by would surely leave shaking their head in awed wonder over the lack of chaos -- all their negative assumptions about large families flipped 180 degrees.)

But today? Ohhh ... it seems like there are nine all right. More even! From the moment Mette and Hans's pounding feet and screams woke me (and woke Starling!) early this morning (apparently Mette was trying to "be nice" by insisting Hans play something with her ... and when he was not interested in her niceness, she was, I guess, going to beat some nice into him) it has felt like nothing but mess and tantrums and utter madness. (And I've been thinking a bit dispassionately that my work here in mortality looks and feels about as inglorious as anything possibly could.)

(Though you wouldn't think it from these cute photos.)

 

But! I suppose, if you are going to have ten kids, you ought to expect that some days will in fact feel like it. 

Speaking of these kids:

Recently I walked into a room and inadvertently startled Hans -- who screamed. 

"It's just your mom," I laughed. "I'm not scary."

"Well," he said, defensively, "you're sort of scary."

Also, Starling was wandering about the living room crying the other day. Jesse, who had heard enough, said, "No no, Starling." She stopped her crying, walked over, smacked him with her tiny hand, and then went back to her wandering cry. 

She's learning to hold her own in this family. (Though one might question if that is the exact sort of way one might most wish a child would learn to hold their own.)

Lastly, we celebrated our Aug. 13th birthday twins! Mike and Mette. 44 and 5.

With that birthday in mind, and with Summer having just had her birthday, perhaps I will share here just the last section of a talk I gave in church last year. The theme our bishop asked me to speak on was "eternal perspective" and just a general ... seeing our lives as the Savior does. I won't share it all, but this last bit seems fitting right now.

Here it is:

It probably won't surprise any of you who know the full row I usually sit on to hear that I've had a wide variety of birth experiences. And to end I wanted to tell you just a little bit about two of those.  

 

So, when I was pregnant with our seventh, I decided I was going to have another natural childbirth. I don't know why, because I think they're terrible, nevertheless, that was what I was going to do. Anyway, I approached that labor and prepared for it with a very spiritual mindset; and when I was in labor – and Mike and I were in that hospital room, it really felt like there was just this force field of light and protection surrounding our room. I don't think the veil has maybe ever been more thin for me. I KNEW there were angels all around us. I could FEEL them. I knew they were helping me and helping this baby and even helping the doctor and nurses. And it was really just an incredibly sacred experience for me. And really amazing for me to be able to see that little moment of my life with an expanded view where I could more clearly see everything that was going on and how involved heaven was and how significant this moment was.  

 

In contrast to that experience, only one short year later, I was expecting our eighth child. It was a few weeks before my due date, and my babies always come late, so I wasn't ready or planning on her coming. It was actually Mike's birthday, and we had spent the day down in Salt Lake. It was like a 95 degree day, and we'd been wandering with our kids around Temple Square and McDonald's and City Creek, and everyone was just hot and dirty and tired. But on our way home, I went into labor. And by the time we got our kids home and got me to the hospital, I was just in this black cloud of pain, and there was no time for an epidural, this baby was ready to be born. Only then, they discovered she had turned herself into some odd breach position. My doctor wasn't even there yet and there was no time to consider options, and I was just in horrible pain and the thought of having to be prepped for surgery and receive an epidural in the state I was in was just horrifying to me, but that's what needed to happen. Only I was so tense and unable to hold still that it took them four attempts to get the epidural in correctly (during which time I was holding on to some nurse's arm so tightly that she probably still, four years later, has bruises). And once the epidural was finally placed, my blood pressure dropped causing me to feel this kind of claustrophobic, dizzy panic as they finished up the C-section.  

 

And I will tell you, that that experience I saw 100% from a mortal perspective. There were no angels. There was no thin veil. All I saw was fear, and shock, and pain, and botched epidurals, and the dirty kids and uncleaned bathrooms that hadn't been taken care of back at home.  

 

That was all I saw of that experience.  

 

However, over the course of the next few days, as I held that beautiful new baby in my arms (and she was a particularly beautiful baby), the Spirit really testified to me that my view of that experience was only the tiniest portion of the reality of it. And that if the veil were to have been removed and if I'd have been able to see that experience in its entirety and seen how involved the Lord was in the events of that day and how heaven and angels were helping and how significant that moment was for our baby and for our entire family, it would have been too much for my mortal self to even comprehend. And the interesting thing was that, as the Spirit testified that to me, it kind of washed back over that birth, and even though it was an awful experience, it made it actually become sort of beautiful.  

 

And that really is my testimony for each one of us.  

 

I know we all have circumstances in our life that cause us to see our life really squarely from a mortal perspective. But my testimony is that Christ really truly is woven into and working through all of it bringing about miraculous things. And all of our opportunities to learn, and to grow, and to serve, and to become who we came here to become – are existing right in the midst of the untidy mess of our ordinary lives. He can't just pluck us out of our circumstances. We need this resistance for our faith to be tested and to grow, but that is my testimony – that He is busy working in us and through us in all of it; and that someday we will look back and see clearly where it was all leading and how involved the “powers of heaven” were all along.

 

And I suppose (it's blogging-me writing again now) that's my surety about this entire business of raising these kids. It's certainly a slower process. (All the labor and fear and unknowns of Mette's birth produced, pretty rapidly, an amazingly worth-it and beautiful outcome [that baby!].) But a process I trust in all the same. (Which is helpful on days like this!)