A Bit From Abe

I wanted to share two quick and contrasting experiences from Abe's recent letters. While he glossed over the moment of being asked to leave, things like that have to be awkward and uncomfortable encounters. And it makes me sad to think of anyone being unkind to my boy who is just out trying to do good. On the other hand, it makes me happy that he was able to so quickly have The Spirit help him know how to view the whole business in a positive manner. 

And the second experience? I just love so much the people who, interested in their message or not, are kind and acknowledge the goodness of kids away from home trying to serve God. I love whoever that young guy in the car was.

Story 1:

... shortly after those contacts, we were approached by someone that worked there and promptly asked to leave and not come back. That was too bad, but as we drove out, I thought, "How many people have been cast out for Christ's sake? We just got thrown out for preaching the gospel! Made me think of this scripture about the ancient apostles:

Acts 5:

41 ¶ And they departed from the presence of the council, rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer shame for his name.

42 And daily in the temple, and in every house, they ceased not to teach and preach Jesus Christ.

Here we are, ceasing not to preach Jesus Christ. Life is pretty good.

Story 2:

We were visiting an apartment complex to help someone move and were able to jump through the swinging gates just as they closed (almost as cool as a spy movie). We then heard a shout, "Hey! Are you representing your religion?" We looked around but could not see anybody through the fence and bushes on the outside of the gates. The cry was repeated again. Thinking it was an angry security guard, we replied, "Uhh, we are just helping someone move right now!" The other voice started to respond, and we finally peered through a gap in the bushes and saw that it was a guy just a little older than us yelling from his car. We said, "But, yes, we are missionaries and represent our church as well!" He said, "Hey, keep doing what you are doing! The world needs more people doing what you do! Lots of respect. If it gets hard or people reject you just [as he makes prayer hands] keep going!"

And, to end, a bonus humorous story:

[W]e ... got a call about someone in our area that needed help moving. ... [W]e ran on over in our suits and just shed the jackets. Things went pretty well until there was a really big box. Elder Stewart got on one end and I on the other, and I executed a wonderful example of lifting with your legs and not your back. Unfortunately, the stiff, non-stretch suit material was not quite as large a fan of deep squats and the stitching ripped open all the way up. After a shame-faced, backwards retreat, we were able to go and switch into some more flexible pants and finish the move.

The End

Plays, Goats, and Garbage Disposals

Saturday was a busy day. 

Mike had about a thousand jobs he was hoping to accomplish. Among other things: van tires needed changing, a broken van window needed replacing (though we've thoroughly enjoyed the classiness of driving around with a white garbage bag for a window), and the leaking garbage disposal (that had left us with only one useable half to our sink for several days) needed switched out. 

Naturally all he hoped did not quite occur. They sent him the driver's side rather than the passenger side window he'd ordered for one thing, and, in general our life these days doesn't typically allow for accomplishing all we hope (or even ... a small portion of all we hope). Still the day was full of tools and errands and acquiring parts for him. And it is a glorious thing, from a financial standpoint, that Mike can fix all things. From the perspective of time, however, it is rather a shame he's so handy; as, before the most pressing projects can ever get completed, other equally pressing needs raise their little heads and there is never some outside person coming to just take care of it ... not on our time. (Which perhaps explains why, looking at our sink the day after our disposal started leaking, Mike sighed disappointedly and said, "Well, it looks like this garbage disposal isn't going to fix itself after all.")

On top of all of that, Penny had the Saturday matinée showing of her Anything Goes play to be readied for (a process that takes me nearly an hour). And, while we'd all seen the play earlier in the week, several of us managed to procure tickets to go again that very afternoon. (It had been so fun to watch her that we wanted to go again anyway, but when Summer, the morning after she'd seen the play and been thoroughly captivated by the glamour and magic of the stage, woke up actually crying, "Can't we see it again? I just want to go watch it again. I just loved the costumes and the dancing, and Penny looked so pretty!" we figured we better make it happen. [Summer has been totally enchanted and keeps asking me things like, "Mom, do you think my hair looks like Penny's?"]) 

Naturally my going to the play (and taking all of the older, helpful girls, and not taking most of the littler kids) didn't help Mike with his day for working on projects. (But look at all these fun pictures I got! And it is a true little miracle that we managed a fitting 30s hairstyle. Everything I tried -- despite Google tutorials and the like -- was a discouraging disaster. I just have zero natural talent with hair and trying to whip her long hair into a short glamorous style or create set and defined curls was completely beyond me. As Penny looked more and more deflated after each of my attempts, I prayed and prayed some angel might be sent to help me -- perhaps one of my grandmas who were both young and stylish in the 30s. And then, one day, a little idea just formed itself in my mind as I looked at Penny. Almost as if someone were explaining it to me right on my minimal skill level. And ... wahlah! She was so elegant, graceful and lovely that I nearly forgot she was only 13 and felt she was fully grown.)

On top of Mike's project and Penny's play, Goldie had posters she needed to have done by Monday in order to run for office. She needed me to take pictures of her for them. And she also needed ... a goat for some of those pictures. So the day also contained finding someone willing to rent us their goat for a few weeks. (We figured, as long as we were finding a goat, we may as well keep it through Spring Break as has become our custom. We've now had a runt piglet, a bum lamb, two baby goats, and this new goat for Spring Break week. I'm surprised really at how many people -- total strangers -- agree to Mike's unconventional proposals that we rent their animals.)

A friend (who also happens to be the sister I minister to in my ward) also called a bit panicked because it looked as if whoever she'd thought was taking dance pictures for her daughter's Prom that night would not be able to. I was incredibly tempted to say I couldn't, it was just SUCH a day, and late, and the house in shambles, and Mike still having one hundred things to do, but ... how many opportunities do you get to minister to your ministering sister right when she really needs it? So off I went to do that. 

All of those things would be demanding enough on their own, but throw into that a backdrop of kids needing fed, and stopped from running off into the road, and bathed, and put for naps, and dinner needing provided, and of a thousand messes (truly a thousand) being created by practically a thousand :) little people unceasingly while all of the above occurred, and well, it made for a very full and demanding Saturday!

But we all somehow remained relatively cheery throughout and Daisy was home for the weekend (which always feels happy) and we got things settled and kids to bed only ... a tiny bit ridiculously late. 

Dog Kidnappers and So Forth

The other night I heard angry cry-protests coming from near my bedroom. “What’s going on?” I called (wearily).

“The kids won’t let me play unless I’m a DOG KIDNAPPER!” screamed Mette.

Kids.

That’s just the very sort of unfair thing they’d do. Dog kidnapper. Insulting. (On the other hand ... surely somebody must be the dog kidnapper? Surely?)

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Anders, dawdling before bed, came into my room last night and complained: “There are no Thornton Burgess books at the library. So you can only buy them off Amazon.”

“Have you checked the library?” I asked (knowing we can request them from any of the five libraries in our county). “Like the entire county library? Or just our little local one?”

He looked startled. “I haven’t checked anywhere at all! Can I check somewhere now?”

Goofy kid.

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Jesse took first in the energy category in the district science fair the other day. It was fairly late at night when we found out the news and told the other kids.

“I feel like I need to think of some way for us to celebrate!” I said.

“OK!” Anders eagerly agreed. “How long will it take you to think?”

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Recently, hearing Starling rummaging about in our kitchen pantry, Goldie called, “Starling? What are you doing?”

“Just making a mess,” she replied in her halting little way.

I’m still delighted by even the gibberish she utters. I think there is nothing more charming than any—even single—word that comes from her mouth. So a full sentence of admission like this one set my heart spinning like a top. It’s lucky I have a husband and nine other fully-appreciative kids (and a blog) I can repeat stories like this to.

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The other day I came to these words in second Nephi: “... for there is a God, and he hath created all things ...”. Suddenly I recalled hearing a young missionary share those same words several months ago. “Christ isn’t only the creator of physical things,” he’d commented. “He’s also the creator of opportunities.”

Of course I know that.

Of course He is.

Still, it felt then, and even more so now, like a closed box opening — all full of hopeful glimpses of things yet to come. (Though I use the word “glimpses” loosely. They’re like ... pinpricks of light on an otherwise dark map ahead. I don’t glimpse what they are exactly—though there’s a feeling about some—but I glimpse that they are there; connected in marvelous ways to all sorts of relationships and experiences that the Lord has already “created” in my life. It’s exciting. And it increases my trust in Him significantly.

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As I finish typing this I can hear Mette and Hans in the kitchen. They are playing with kinetic sand, and every sentence they speak is coming out sung to the toon of “The Lonely Goatherd”.

The End.