Daisy's Birthday. Summer's Concert.

Mette and Summer spent some time being quite at odds Sunday morning. I don't recall what it was all about, but I do recall Hans, from the sidelines of their squabbling, quietly interjecting an "Excuse me, but should we calm things down a little?"

Nice try, Kid.

Summer ignored. Mette shot him a look of scorn. And the arguing continued.

At some point, after Mette had hurled an accusation at Summer, Hans tried again with a concise "forgive and forget, Mette". 

She rounded on him with a furious, "HANS!"

But Summer spat back at her, "It's a GOOD SAYING, METTE!" And then, with an air of woundedness, was gone.

Haha. Oh these children. Heaven knows what they are learning growing up with each other! (Perhaps they are simply learning to watch themselves! [See below. A lovely note Jesse left next to something in his room.])

But! Here's something pleasant: Daisy's birthday! She's 21!

Goldie gifted her a Lord of the Rings RISK! (If you can even imagine!) Daisy was thrilled. (And, apparently, it doesn't go on quite so dreadfully long as the original RISK. Something about Mordor ending it. [Or so I heard them assuring Abe when he expressed skepticism about wanting to play it with them.])

She couldn't think of anything she wanted, so we just got her two pair of very cool shoes. And it seemed, afterwards, that very-cool-shoes actually had been just what she wanted! 

Arm-wrestling before birthday cake.

Daisy had a bad cold, so she gave candle-blowing duties to Anders. He almost got her wish for her. (He would've had it for certain, but somehow one of those blasted re-lighting candles had snuck into the mix.)

And some other pleasant things:

A sleepy, little Starling. With a Ziploc-bag full of pinecones. 

I don't usually take pictures at church, but Starling resting on Summer's lap and both of them looking so happy about it was just too dear to pass up. (Also, you can see Melyssa next to Mette. She entertains my kids through most sacrament meetings. I will really miss her when we are no longer here. And I think she will really miss us.)

This Starling is just so lucky! I can't get over how much love and adoration she gets to grow up with. 

Her siblings are so good to her.

This was just Sunday after dinner. I'm not sure what was going on. But I liked my view of all of these people scattered about in front of me. 

And perhaps the pleasantest thing of all. Summer had a performance with her elementary-school choir; and her older sisters made such a great fuss about it! Both Daisy and Goldie came home from college just for the concert (even though they both had to get right back for work and finals). Goldie brought her a treat and Daisy brought her flowers. Mike and the middle boys had to be at a mutual activity, but looking down this row at all of the support and love Summer had made me just feel so happy. 

Oh they are lucky to have each other. Even with all the squabbling. (And even with Hans covering his face and crying after running too forcefully into the brick on this bench. And even with both Starling and Mette falling and skinning their knees on the way home.)

And, long past the little folks' bedtime, here they were arranging Summer's flowers just so.

The End.

All in a Row

I wish I had thought, back when I had three and four and five kids, to line them all up--oldest to youngest--for pictures. It would've been so fun to have watched, from the very start of this family, that little row grow taller ... and longer. 

As it is, I didn't begin forcing anyone to line up in a row until Summer was born. And I only did it sporadically after that. Still, it's kind of fun to see the changes even since then in that row of people! So, here's what I've got:

And, just for fun, a few of the family photos I chanced upon while looking for the ones of them all lined up.

Writing About Scripture. (Hoping in the Promises)

I recently heard something from Tad R. Callister where he mentioned, more than once, how much he likes to, not only study, but "write about" the scriptures. There was something pleasant and personal I felt each time he mentioned the scriptures and said "I like to write about them"--like getting a glimpse into his own private little habits--and it woke a desire in me to do more of the same. 

Certainly I've done so on occasion:

In Israel we had a weekly assignment, from one of our professors, to turn in five insights we'd received from our scripture reading each week. Perhaps that was my first experience with writing about scripture. 

Since then, I've had many occasions where I've recorded in my journals the answers or understandings that have come from scripture. 

Here, on this blog, I've, at times, written how various scriptures have spoken to me. 

And, I suppose, even the thoughts I type next to verses as I read my scriptures on the gospel library app are a way of "writing about the scriptures". 

But! I want to do it more. I want to, as Elder Scott often teaches, record the insights God gives me so that he knows I cherish them. And I want to, more consistently, participate in a practice that I have found helps words of scripture become, more fully, my very own. 

So ...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

For the last year I have been putting up a weekly Book of Mormon verse (just to keep the Book of Mormon more consistently a part of our family discussions during the years when we are focusing more on studying other books of scripture). (Mike might laughingly tell you how I have even begun putting a copy of our weekly verse on the wall in our bathroom directly across from the toilet! Ha. Well? And maybe I have! But I got the idea from Mike's own father [who use to put poems up for his kids across from the toilet :)]. I fancy we all know the verses better because of it.) 

Our verse last week was Alma 37:17 -- "For he will fulfill all his promises which he shall make unto you ..."

I've been thinking a lot about that verse. Each of us have many of our own individual promises from the Lord: promises from our patriarchal (and other) blessings, promises and reassurances whispered to our hearts through the Holy Ghost, and even promises spoken to us by loved ones under inspiration. (For heaven's sake! I've had the rather shocking experience my own self of powerfully assuring someone of a promise God has for them.) And, of course, there are promises made on a grander scale as well--promises that extend to all who covenant with God. As our prophet has instructed us, I have been making note of these promises whenever I find them in my scriptures.

A small sampling:

He will comfort all our waste places.
He will gather us.
He will give us knowledge by his Holy Spirit.
He will fight our battles and our children's battles.
He will arm us with power.
He will prepare a way to accomplish all his works.
He will prepare us in all things.
He will be in the midst of us.
He will take away our stumbling blocks.
He will manifest himself unto us in power and deed.
He will do all things which are expedient for us.
He will bless all the work of our hands.
He will cause mountains to flee before us.
He will cause all our children to be taught of the Lord.
He will keep us in all the places we go.
He will not leave us until he has done all he has spoken.
He will not forsake us.
He will give us instruction every time we inquire.
He will lead us in paths we have not known.
He will make darkness light before us.
He will have mercy on us.
He will bless all the earth through us.
He will turn us from our iniquities.
He will save our children.
He has graven us on his hands.
Our walls are continually before him.

My sister Shannon has been working on a cool project where she is stitching many of Israel's covenant blessings into a temple (she's far from done, but here it currently is):

This, combined with Alma's promise of God fulfilling all his promises which he shall make unto us, has made me want to do something similar. (I don't know what, as I don't have a lot of creative energy currently.) But I'd like to have Alma 37:17 up somewhere followed by many of these beautiful covenant blessings. (Any clever ideas of how I might do that are welcome. Perhaps my girls [I'm talking to you Dais and Gold] could come up with something.)

Today I was reading in 3 Nephi 1. Five years earlier Samuel, a Lamanite prophet, had prophesied a major sign of Christ's birth that would occur in five years. With the end of those five years coming upon them, many began to say that the time for the sign was already past. They niggled at the minds of those who had waited and hoped in the promise saying, "Behold ... the time is past, and the words ... are not fulfilled; therefore, your joy and your faith concerning this thing hath been vain."

And then, and I can relate so well to how this affected those who had been waiting and holding to that promise, it says: "... and the people who believed began to be very sorrowful, lest by any means those things which had been spoken might not come to pass."

I've felt that plying little fear before! That sinking little whisper that maybe the promises I've felt and been holding to aren't sure. Maybe I made them up. Maybe the actions of myself or others have taken them from me. Maybe the time is past when they surely should have become plain.

But I love what those believers did. Despite the anxiety and doubts that were plaguing their minds they "did watch steadfastly for that day [when the promises would be fulfilled] ... that they might know that their faith had not been vain."

Perhaps it's because I know so many right now whose struggles (and whose children's struggles) have them wondering if (and how!) those covenant promises and the personal promises they've been given can possibly really be fulfilled. But that last line--about steadfastly waiting so that they might come to know their faith had not been vain--makes me want to weep. It's just so beautiful. It takes such power and strength. It feels like hope and grit applied at once. A refusal to let go when all around suggests there is nothing left to hold onto. 

I love what Neal A Maxwell says about hope in these types of situations:

"Having ultimate hope does not mean we will always be rescued from proximate problems. ... Faith in Father's plan gives us endurance even amidst the wreckage of some proximate hopes. Hope keeps us 'anxiously engaged' in good causes even when these appear to be losing causes." 

It reminds me of Elder Scott saying, "When you feel that there is only a thin thread of hope, it is really not a thread but a massive connecting link, like a life preserver to strengthen and lift you."

And because the Nephites in 3 Ne. 1 held fiercely to that life preserver of hope--hope that somehow those promises were sure (despite the circumstances surrounding them that insisted they could never be)--eventually this message came. It is the same message that ALL of us will eventually receive concerning every promise we've clung to:

"Lift up your head and be of good cheer; for behold, the time is at hand, and ... I will fulfill all that which I have caused to be spoken."

This all brings to mind these scriptures that I will end with:

1 Ne. 21:14 (Nephi quoting Isaiah):
But, behold, Zion hath said: The Lord hath forsaken me, and my Lord hath forgotten me--but he will show that he hath not.

And Romans 4:20-21 (referring to Abraham):
He staggered not at the promise of God ... but was strong in faith ... being fully persuaded that, what he had promised, he was able also to perform. 

And there's my certainty! The time will eventually "be at hand". He will show that he has not forgotten us. And whatever He has promised, no matter how impossible it might currently appear, He is well able to perform!

So Many Lives and Their Happenings

One thing about having a large family is, well, I suppose this comes as no shock that this is how it would be, but! the thing about a large family is ... there are always so many significant events occurring! Hard and wonderful and ... all at once! It's just ... so many full lives growing and unfolding! I mean ... ten of them! All playing out under this umbrella of our parenthood.

And, of course, I know this will become even more astounding. After all, many of them are young yet, and their significant happenings often involve the simplest things: a wiggly tooth, beginning to note the silent e at the end of words, learning to ride a bike, adding a new turn of speech to their vocabulary (tonight, as I put Starling to bed, she, quite suddenly asked me, "Mom, could you do me a favor tomorrow?"--that's not a phrase she's ever used before--"could you do me a favor", and, even after she said it, her mind cast about, unsure of what was meant to follow such a request).

Soon they'll shift upwards in age and we will have the baptisms, driver's licenses, graduations, and mission calls of our current experience coinciding with weddings, baby announcements, moves, careers, and so on.

But we are certainly getting, and have gotten, tastes of that now. (After all, we were birthing Starling within days of Abe receiving his mission call.) And at times it feels there are sudden surges in the number of these happenings that causes me to feel more keenly the magnitude of what Mike and I have taken on and of what that taking on allows us to shape and witness. 

The pictures below aren't necessarily a proper visual representation of one of those surges. But I've felt it lately. Not only in Goldie receiving her mission call, but in birthdays, and dances, and winding up of driving hours for Penny's license, and in the discussions with and decisions of my kids. 

And here are a few recent images of this lot I'm discussing.

Penny went on her first date (Prom). Her cousin Tori lent her the beautiful dress. Here we are having my mom hem it:

And here she is all done up for the dance!

My Aunt Penny said she looked like a Shakespearean heroine in this next picture. I agree.

(Though with this small glance here we find ourselves wondering if it might be a Shakespearian comedy. Better that than a tragedy I suppose!)

And this little sprite had a birthday. Four. I don't actually believe it. She's still as much our baby as she could possibly be. "She's four," I might try to explain to someone. "But she's not like four."

Popsicles in the perpetual winter.

Starling and Hans refilling the pinata from Hans's birthday. (It's rare to be able to use a pinata twice. But, as luck would have it, someone just batted its legs off the first time. A little packing tape and it was back in business for Starling's birthday. [Though I'm sure she would have greatly preferred something more feminine and less ... green.])

Kids doing stuff before church. I'm really liking our noon church right now. 

The three days this past week that leapt from winter to summer, with all their accompanying increase in outdoor play, wore this dear boy out (and gave his forearms a rather bad sunburn to boot)!

Anders playing some silly game he'd begged me to get on my phone.

Starling requesting I take a picture of her. 

Starling asleep.

Penny took Starling on a little adventure on Saturday. Just the two of them. They walked to Lee's grocery store and bought goldfish crackers. Then went to McDonald's for ice-cream. Then to the library to choose a few books. And then (!) to the park (where they finally called me for a ride home). (Starling has no idea how wonderfully novel it is to have all of these older siblings doting on her! I didn't know it myself when I was her age. Though I experienced it just as fully!)

Mike and these four went to Logan to check on a few things one afternoon. And somehow ended up with two new, small four wheelers! I'm glad. All the small kids scrabble over riding the one little 50 we have up there. And even though our kids and their cousins are getting bigger, it's easy enough to wave off any concerns about them outgrowing these with thoughts of the years ahead of grandkids-coming-to-visit! 

Mette took this picture of Starling in the game closet on Easter and begged me to be sure to get it in one of our chatbooks. (Little printed photo books.)

Daisy got the kids making balloon animals one day and for weeks we had balloon animals and balloon swords and balloon hats piled in our living room. Even Starling became confident at twisting them into various shapes. 

One of the (many!) fun things Goldie did with the kids while we were in Hawaii was help them make rock candy suckers. I need to ask her if she took pictures of some of the other activities she did with them. (Goldie, did you take pictures of some of your other activities with the kids? :))

Abe and one of his climbing friends competed in their first indoor climbing competition. It was new to them since they primarily climb outdoors. But they had a lot of fun and, in the drawing afterwards, Abe won a new nearly-300-dollar climbing rope! Well worth the entry fee!

Also, after seeing our little "stained glass" window, Abe decided that would be a fun date idea. He and his date then promptly bested the window we had done at home with the following:

I had a cool experience not long ago that gave me some new insights to ponder. Hans was asking about my dad, and I was telling him that, even though he didn't get to know his Grandpa Gordy (as all his grandkids called him) here, that I was sure he knew him before he came to earth and that I was sure Grandpa Gordy was helping him all of the time now as well. 

But then a small part of me hesitated. I've long understood that angels are not limited by our constraints of time, and, while I don't know the particulars of their callings and missions on the other side of the veil, I have no trouble believing they are capable of being limitlessly involved in our lives. Still ... as I told my little Hans that his Grandpa Gordy, my dad was helping him, I felt a moment of hurt pause. A small stab of pain. "Is that true?" I wondered. "Is he really? Does he have time for even my littlest children?" My mind began thinking of the enormous number of grandchildren my parents have. (And now an increasingly impressive number of great grandchildren.) Many of them have enormously pressing and eternally significant struggles. "Surely," I wavered, "God must need to use my dad primarily in helping them. Where would there be energy to expend on a six-year-old boy whose troubles are rarely larger than a skinned knee or a sibling not sharing. ..."

But then, quite forcefully, an unasked for and unexpected, but clear and direct thought (and even wording) pressed into my mind. It was that my dad felt "great rejoicing in his great posterity". Those specific words were followed by an enlightened glimpse and understanding of my dad's current work and growth. The thing I, in one great swell, comprehended was that one of the ways my dad is most progressing towards godhood right now, one of the ways he is most being tutored in how to be like his savior and heavenly parents is in being able to be aware of and involved in the lives of every one of his increasing posterity. I was given to understand that he is not limited by the number of children and grandchildren he has. Nor does one new grandchild suddenly cause him to reach some tipping point where he can no longer keep up or has to slacken the aid and involvement he can extend to another; rather, his capacity and capability is expanding just as his family expands. He is loving learning this, I knew, and finding enormous joy in this unencumbered ability to have such detailed involvement with each of those coming through his line. And with many others besides!

I had one of those odd experiences of feeling my mortal "stakes and bounds" shaken and reordered. I'd been measuring God's ways of working within the constraints of my mortal limits and comprehension again. But this made such utter sense to me when I felt it. Of course it was true. We have no trouble believing that Heavenly Father and our Savior are intimately aware of each of one of us. Why would we not suppose that part of our progression towards becoming like them would involve gaining that same capacity and awareness. And what better place to start than with the ones sealed and bound to us? 

My mom used to answer, when someone would ask how her heart could hold enough love for another child (and I think this answer was from her own grandmother), that you didn't have to find room. Every child simply brought the love with them and your heart expanded with it. 

I love thinking that, even here, within our strained and limited mortal capacities, we are beginning that tutoring process as we reach and expand to care about and help our siblings, and our children, our nieces and nephews, and our stretching (and sometimes fumbling) attempts to extend that even further to take in neighbors and friends, our kids' friends, the children we teach in Primary and so on. It opens my eyes to a whole new view of the ways we progress and the things we experience to help us become more like God.