Gingerbread Men, Scripture in Me and My Kids, Etc.

"Mom," Summer asked me, as we were driving somewhere the other day, "if you were older, but like not too old, and all your kids were grown, could you adopt a kid so you wouldn't be lonely?"

"Yah, I think you could," I responded.

Then I heard her muse to herself, "So you could just do that instead of make a gingerbread man."

"Who would just run away and get eaten by a fox," I added to her musings. :)

(Though I certainly wouldn't mind having a couple of tasty gingerbread folk along with these later-in-life babies of mine!)

I often pray that the things I teach my children will be in them. (I am no longer referring to gingerbread men who "run run" as fast as they can. :)) I don't care if they recall where the knowledge came from, I simply hope that somehow those things will be there--to grow and expand with the experiences they have, and to be called upon by the Spirit and woven together with scripture and other truths they learn and are taught by others.

Not often, but every once in a while, when I'm reading a mission letter or listening to a testimony or comment from one of my kids, I'll hear it: I'll catch a glimpse of my own testimony and assurances spoken in their own language and with their own understanding.

It comforts me that maybe God really is magnifying my stumbling and small efforts. And it brings to mind these hopeful words from Isaiah:

"My spirit that is upon thee, and my words which I have put in my mouth, shall not depart out of thy mouth, nor out of the mouth of thy seed, nor out of the mouth of thy seed's seed, saith the Lord, from henceforth and for ever."

And it makes me wonder how many of the truths that have become my very own ... have roots back in the things my parents taught and exemplified, and their parents before them, and their parents before them. ...

A woman spoke in our ward on Sunday. She spoke about the scriptures and of something her mother used to say to her that became "scripture" to her. As she talked, I recalled these words of promise to the early elders of the church as they headed out to teach:

"[T]hey shall speak as moved upon by the Holy Ghost. And whatsoever they shall speak when moved upon by the Holy Ghost shall be scripture, shall be the mind of the Lord, shall be the word of the Lord, shall be the voice of the Lord, and the power of God unto salvation."

I think Elder Teh summed up well what I feel and hope about all of this (scripture becoming our own and passing that to our children in how we speak so it becomes their own) when he said:

"[A]s we are increasingly coming to know the Savior, scriptural passages and the words of the prophets become so intimately meaningful to us that they become our own words. It is not about copying the words, feelings, and experiences of others as much as it is coming to know for ourselves, in our own unique way, by experimenting upon the word and receiving a witness from the Holy Ghost."

But! Back to the less serious. ...

Here is a birthday sign for Anders (from Abe) that I forgot to add to Anders' birthday post. 

And here Anders is with a nerf "gun" from a friend at school. We didn't even have a friend party. His friend just heard it was Anders' birthday and brought him a gift the next day. (And another friend brought him a giant cookie!) I am so so grateful for every kind kid and every person who has stepped out of their own comfort zone to make my kids feel comfortable and welcome here!

And, the electric fence is off for the next few months! Our landlord rented the field behind us to a woman who kept two horses (different from the herd of horses that were kept for some time in the field just beyond that), but she moves them during the winter months, and they've been gone for several weeks now. 

So, when our landlord (Chris) stopped by to winterize something the other day. I asked, "Hey, I've been meaning to ask you, do you still want that electric fence kept on now that the horses are gone? Or am I ok unplugging it?"

He gave me a slightly pained smile and replied, "Yah. You can unplug that. I thought it was already off actually ... and just found out the hard way that it wasn't." 

Hahaha. Poor fellow.

Anyway, with the fearsome fence off, my kids have been venturing much further afield:

(Much further. Anders and Hans told me their stuffed animals were exploring outer space when I asked what they were up to out there.)

Meanwhile:

Also, we almost missed (mist? haha hoho) the bus this morning. Usually the fog has faded by the time we walk to the bus stop, but not today!

We usually see the bus lights a full mile away, but we had no warning it was close at all until we suddenly saw it materialize through the mist--with us still a ways from it! (I should add: their pants. It was in fact pajama day.)

And we will end with this small hodgepodge:

Painted rocks.

At the farm to feed the geese. (Eek! That reminds me I need to get over there to get them fed again!)

A Christmas tree at the park. In October. (Who? Why?)

A lovely, artistic photo :) one of the kids took of my nightstand (after they'd knocked down the hummingbird Daisy needle-felted me).

Little friend ready to go in the stroller. (It's going to be tricky to get her to switch to wearing pants with winter approaching. She currently wears this dress, her pink dress, and, surprisingly, a red dress.)

The End.

To and From the Bus Stop, and Fogbows.

When you live in the county, apparently, the school bus generally just picks the kids up right outside of their own houses! But ... since we live on a dead-end street (skinny enough that it would require an eighty-point turn for any bus to turn back around), we walk down to the end of the street, cross Mendon Road, and wait in Aunt Sarah's driveway. 

On our way we gather a little troop of people. Admittedly my four elementary kids (plus Starling bundled in her stroller) make up most of the troop, but our next-door neighbor (Kelli) and her three kids walk out as we come by, and then, a little further down, their grandma (Becky) comes out (with their little cousin who she watches in the morning). And we all continue on--we three women and nine kids--to the bus stop. We call to the kids running ahead not to cross the road without us (cars go so fast on that road!), and we call to everyone to move to the side when the bishop's wife comes along our road on her way to helping with reading groups at the school. We tell the kids to quit kicking Sarah and Garth's gravel into the canal as we wait, and I prep Hansie to be ready to run to the bus when it arrives: "Just hug me right now so you're ready to get on the bus when it comes, and you just need one hug and kiss on the head--you don't need to keep running back for more while the bus driver waits." (He still usually runs back for one last hug.) 

And then we walk back--chatting about things like how soon Kelli will be able to tell if her dog is pregnant, and how on earth her hip could be giving her problems when she had surgery on it just this May, and we talk about my house still not selling, and about when Becky and Dick will bring their cows down from where they've been grazing in Morgan, and about the time Dick hit a construction sign (in the middle of the road in the fog) and thought it was a person (he was searching in terror in the fog for some time for the "person" he'd hit before finding the broken sign and realizing what had happened), or the time someone else hit one of their escaped pigs and it was scream-squealing so loudly that he thought it was a person. (Becky had to practically smack him to get him to snap out of his horrified repetition of "I hit a child! I hit a child!". "It was a PIG!" she kept telling him--as she motioned to Dick to find some way to put it out of its misery and stop its screaming. "It was not a child! It was just a PIG!")

(Also, a crazy thing: here we are, with only these few houses on our street, and my kids so happy to have three great friends right next door. Having friends next door when houses are so spread out to begin with seemed impossible luck. But now we've discovered that these friends placed so conveniently ... are actually my kids third cousins! When we spoke in church and Mike mentioned his Hansen relatives, Kelli made the connection. Abraham Hansen [who we named our Abe after] was not only Mike's second-great grandpa, but hers as well! And thus third-great-grandpa to all of our kids! Such a small world!)

(Another thing about the roads here--I feel obligated to wave to every car that ever passes by; especially when I'm out running. I don't recall ever paying attention to passing cars before, but now, chances are pretty high that any car driving past me is in my ward, and, even if they aren't, they have most likely just moved over into the other lane to make sure not to hit me on our skinny roads and so deserve a wave of acknowledgment. I like the feeling of community that the small business of everyone waving and nodding to each other as they drive by creates.)

But back to walking to and from the bus stop in the mornings. Becky and Kelli each depart to their respective houses first on our way back, so there is always a strip of just empty road that Starling and I walk in quiet. The other morning as we walked this stretch, I pulled out my phone and took a photo or two of the fog.

(Well, this first picture was actually looking north from our house before leaving in the morning.)

 But I took this from the view to my right as I walked home.

And then I took this of the view to my left:

And noticed that a streak of white seemed to be forming in the dissipating fog. And then, there wasn't just a streak, but a full rainbow composed completely of fog!

I texted it to my sisters with a questioning, "Fog rainbow? Halloweeny ghost rainbow??" 

I looked them up later and they are a recognized phenomenon--though far less common that an actual rainbow. (The smaller water droplets of fog mean that the color is very weak--if discernable at all.) They are called fogbows, ghost rainbows (just as I'd joked to my sisters!), white rainbows, cloud bows, and, if you are a mariner, sea dogs (why?). 

This is the first one I've ever seen, and it was only there for a few short minutes, so I'm grateful I happened to be out just then and now feel like I must see them again! (And assign some sort of superstitious sign to them--as surely those mariners calling them sea dogs must do.) 

Fog, Abundance, Geese, Eclipse

I've been thinking often lately how grateful I am to God for giving us so many opportunities to learn things we could never learn just drifting through a life of pure ease. Oh sure, sometimes I'm too busy crying and lamenting how hard, complicated, messy and unknown (as in unknown how to manage, figure out or accomplish) these situations are to feel even an ounce of gratitude. But, even then, some part of me recognizes that all these challenges--in relationships, in raising children, in callings, in confronting complicated situations, etc.--are really giving me so much increase in my understanding and ability. And all of the things I learn here really are precious to me. 

I think often of Christ descending below all things and ascending above them in order to comprehend all things (D&C 88:6). I'm grateful for, in my own small sphere, those descending moments--the things that simply come to me through living mortal life, and the opportunities I am given through covenanting to serve in His kingdom--that allow me to comprehend and know and become things I never was before.

I was thinking of one of those things just today actually. I was recently asked to serve as the Young Women's Camp Director in this new ward of ours. It's never occurred to me, with others who have helped plan camp for my girls, that this calling was anything stressful. But I cried and lost sleep after receiving the call. I know older me will look back at this version of myself and laugh that it felt so overwhelming and hard to me when it's really not something that would cause many people any stress at all. But planning and organizing big things is something really uncomfortable for me. It's not something I would ever choose to do on my own. But even today, as I prayed about this, I knew I would be glad for the things I will learn: the people I will connect with, the delegating and planning and organizing I will learn, the new skills I will develop that will likely serve me well in future calls and family events, the extra chance I will have to learn that God does "provide means" and "prepare the way", etc. As much as I balk and want to, like Lot's wife, turn back from challenges, I am grateful that the Lord does give me opportunities to develop and grow like this.

In other news, my sister Amy told me this photo I took the other morning looked like “the cover of a Western who-done-it".

 

This is just out our back windows again. I asked someone the other day if the fog here was typical. When they said yes, I was surprised that the tone of their yes sounded a bit like they'd said "ugh, yes, isn't it awful?". I suppose it can be quite dangerous for morning driving. But it is just so magical for someone unaccustomed to fog! I can hardly believe we get to have it so regularly!

Also this is interesting. My elementary kids just told me that their principal knows all their names. ALL THE NAMES OF ALL THE KIDS! What? There are nearly 500 kids in their school. How is this possible? I still only have the smallest handful of names down from my ward and neighborhood here. Anyway, I'm impressed. And grateful he would go to such effort to make sure all the kids in his school feel they are personally known.

And apples and pears. Our neighbor back in Pleasant View insisted we come back and pick apples from his backyard again this year. We could've easily gotten six times as many and hardly made a dent in his supply. I wish there were some way to keep them fresh long enough that we could have collected fresh apples for the whole year! (Last year, as you may recall, we made cider with his apples, but this year I didn't think I had it in me.) But! We have been very blessed by others generosity when it comes to produce this year! Apples from the Preeces, we had corn brought to us all through the end of summer from Aunt Sarah, and our neighbors the Whittiers have supplied us with more fresh apples, tons of green beans, and a load of tomatoes. And, while this isn't produce, we probably have about five dozen eggs in our fridge from various people. How nice to benefit from so much sharing! 

I have 2 Cor. 8:14 up on our fridge as a theme of sorts for our family for this year. "... that now at this time your abundance may be a supply for their want ...". 

My kids have so much. Kindness, and intelligence, and light, and truth, and humor, and friendship. I have probably driven them to near madness talking to them about how there is so much of sadness and insecurity and loneliness and so on just even in the lives of those they see at school and that, if I'm going to send them off into this world away from the security of our home every day, I want it to be so they can push back the darkness and bring goodness and light in a million small ways to everyone around them. "Reach outside of yourselves, include people, say hi, smile at people, be a good example, say kind things." 

I want them to give of their abundance! And I feel they have a mission to do just that!

But ... I must admit, perhaps this year we have actually more fully experienced the other half of that verse (and not only in produce): "that their abundance also may be a supply for your want". 

And that's a pretty great thing as well.

Moving on. ... Abe competed in his first offical jiu-jitsu competition. Maybe that isn't fair. His others were probably official? But they were just with students from BYU and another college down that way. But this one was at an official jiu-jitsu gym with serious students of jiu-jitsu. He got third place in his weight class! He had to do a lot of matches (and said he felt like throwing up after nearly every one), but it was cool for him to do so well! And since the ACME (applied math) program is so intense at BYU that Abe seems to me like a first year med student this year--weighed down by impossible hours of study--I'm glad for any bit of just good old fashioned fun he can manage (even if it usually means paying for it later)!

Also, we finally brought the geese up to the farm (they've been staying in Mike's parents' backyard these last months). We made them a little enclosure around the old metal chicken coop (the one Mike made clear back when we were first married with just a few little kids and were living at our Fruitland Drive house). They really are kind of fun. (These geese of ours.) Not perhaps the smartest creatures I've ever seen. But not mean like I always assume geese will be. And they do love to follow us around. Even following us right back into their enclosure every single time we let them out (and then likely cursing when they realize they've fallen for it again).

Hey James and Helen! (We still never know for sure which one is which.)

The farm. Looking like it wishes we would come live there already. 

The goose enclosure.

I like these goofy little faces I sometimes find on my phone:

(I heard Starling, off by herself in the girls' room today. She was playing Calico Critters. "Marry me so we can have babies." I heard one critter say. Then, "Babies? I don't like babies!" came the angry retort from the other.)

And this is cool! Goldie got to go as part of the very first missionary session in the Bentonville, AR temple! That will be cool to remember being a part of!

We had a partial solar eclipse here on Saturday. Sadly there were thick clouds here through the peak portions of the eclipse. But they parted for a little bit and we all got to take a look through Anders' recently-acquired eclipse glasses. We are excited for Goldie that AR will be in the path of a big eclipse next year! 

Here Abe and pal Noah view the eclipse after attending their friend Zach's temple wedding:

And that's all. But more soon I am sure! I seem to have been blogging a lot more often the last while.

Learning When We Don't Even Think We Are

I was thinking the other day of Nephi, after a pretty negative experience and while feeling "much cast down", being told: "Blessed art thou, Nephi, for those things which thou hast done; ... with unwearyingness .... [T]hou hast not ... sought thine own life, but hast sought my will, and to keep my commandments. And now, because thou hast done this with such unwearyingness, behold, I will bless thee forever ...."

Nephi is then promised he will be made "mighty in word and in deed, in faith and in works". He's told that everything he asks will be so completely in line with the Lord's will, that it will always be granted. He's repeatedly promised "power". "[I]f ye shall say unto this mountain, Be thou cast down and become smooth, it shall be done," he's told.

I don't know why it seemed novel, I know we learn and grow through experience, but as I thought about these verses the other day, it suddenly occurred to me that these blessings didn't just poof into existence in Nephi at that moment (just because he was awesome), rather they were the natural outcome of those years of unwearied service to God. They were the natural fruit that came from enduring and pressing forward. Might in deed, faith and works; comprehension of God's will--and a perfect desire to seek it; power from on high: Nephi received those things and had actually become those things, likely without fully realizing it, through the process of seeking God's will along the paths, and in the responsibilities and challenges, that made up his mortal journey.

Recently I had a cool little moment where information and understanding was brought clearly to my mind that, to my shock, I realized I had learned through a series of lengthy and tedious experiences where it never occurred to me I was learning anything at all! There was sudden enlightenment and awareness, a comprehension of things I hadn't comprehended before. It was all there, developed in those tiresome experiences, but not shown to me until an event called upon those understandings. 

It made me wonder what other things God might have taught me or trained me in (or might currently be teaching me or training me in) through the ordinary challenges and moments of life that I simply haven't realized yet; and I felt a renewed sense of awe over how amazing God is at wasting nothing of our experience. I feel this new confidence that He is using all of our experiences (where we muddle along, reaching for him and pressing forward, but often not knowing what we are to be learning) to teach all of us so much more than we yet realize--things that will become plain to us when future experiences call upon the need for that knowledge.

I was telling my sister Shannon some of these thoughts, and she told me how she'd just been thinking about an earlier Nephi. Shannon said how she hadn't really paid close attention before to the fact that Nephi was eight years wandering in the wilderness. And sure he had a handful of truly miraculous experiences in those eight years, but most of the time was probably just ... day after day enduring and moving forward with "unwearyingness" in what he was called to do. Likely, through much of that experience, he didn't feel he was learning or gaining or becoming anything at all, and yet, by the end of that time, he had developed the faith to build a boat when the Lord commanded him to, the faith to survive when chained up on that boat for days, etc. Did he recognize he had been becoming "mighty in faith" in the daily routine of that journey?

Shortly after this discussion I had the opportunity to talk with someone who was feeling incredibly overwhelmed by a life circumstance. They could see nothing good that they were becoming through it. (In fact they felt more discouraged and less capable to being of use to God and their fellowman than ever.) But I found myself testifying to them (with words that did feel surprisingly mighty) that they were learning incredibly important things through this experience and space of time. And it didn't matter that they couldn't see it. I told them with a new and absolute certainty that there would be moments ahead when things would come into their life that would show them that they had actually learned invaluable things during this time--things they'd had no idea they were learning!

And that is all. I just felt to record this here rather than in my "spiritual journal" where I usually record these types of thoughts. 

Grasshoppers, Halloween Costumes, and Missing Mike

Hansie is so dear. I took the kids to parent teacher conference last week. Hans paid very close attention to every question his teacher asked--replying with thoughtful and clearly-spoken answers. At the end of our little meeting his teacher said, "Well, do you have any other questions or worries?" Hans thought for a moment then said, "Well, I don't much like when the kids at recess stomp on grasshoppers. I don't mind when they just scare them away, but I don't much like them stepping on them."

I don't much like it either. Cute boy.

We got the Halloween costumes out yesterday. I put it off as long as possible because, despite all the pleas, warnings and instructions I might ever give, within minutes the costumes are spread hither and yon, separated from all their matching parts, scattered and stepped on.

The kids started by putting on actual costumes. Princesses. Skeletons. Witches. Wolves. But before long they were wearing Darth Vadar masks with snoopy heads, Sherlock Holmes hats with vampire capes, and witch dresses with pioneer bonnets. Had I thought to take more than these very few photos I could have had photos of about 1000 different costume arrangements. 

(Hans cleverly realized that this torn shirt from an old "hobo" costume quickly turned our wolf into a werewolf.)

Here everyone is, post costume frenzy, watching a Fall-Break-Night movie.

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The other day I looked out my window and noticed the craziest and coolest light! Storms were moving and we seemed to be caught between one going and one arriving--setting us in a spot of bright between sharp darks. I rushed out to capture these few photos:

But then the clouds moved again and the moment of drama was past. (You can see the streak of light they'd been in--back beyond the cows.)

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Little friends out at night:

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And that's all. Except ... I miss my Mike. I miss him so much. He's down to about three and a half weeks of madness, and we've been doing it--surviving and managing. But I just love him so much and feel sort of a dull ache all of the time wishing he were here with us! He has been coming up after work every day ever since getting the house projects done a few weeks ago, so he's here by about 10 or 11 pm. I worry about him driving back and forth on so little sleep and have a constant prayer going for his safety, but it is good to at least have him next to me at night. I just love him so much. I feel so lucky that, of all the people in the world, I'm the one that gets to have him. I don't know that it's so much that absence makes the heart grow fonder (it just seems to make my heart grow achier, and even when he's here regularly I am always already saying prayers of gratitude for him), but absences does make me realize how wonderful all the completely ordinary moments of having a husband and father around really are!

But at least I have this little person nearly glued to my side at all times. That's some solace! :)