In like a lion and out like a lamb

March is supposed to go in like a lion and out like a lamb. Speaking weather-wise, heading into the month all gruff and blustery, and ending calm and warm...going from winter to spring. For some reason I've always thought that the saying was kind of like a prediction of sorts, similar to Groundhog Day. If the groundhog doesn't see his shadow, spring comes early...if he does, we have 6 more weeks of winter. If March starts with cold, stormy weather we are assured a nice entrance into spring a few weeks later...if the month begins warm and sunny then chances are by the end of March we're dealing with late snow storms. But maybe that's just me. And if that is true then we are kind of in trouble because yesterday was a pretty beautiful day.

But for some reason this year the whole thought of "going in like a lion and out like a lamb" came to mind at the New Year. 2015 was hard. One of the hardest years I've had to deal with. And though I knew that with the arrival of 2016 those hard things wouldn't just end, I had hope that things would get better. That mentally and emotionally I could get a better grip on the issues I was dealing with. Goals and changes. Hope and optimism.

But then New Years Eve I had a miserable cold. Our friends who normally celebrate the big night with us, had to cancel and I spent the evening playing cards with my eight-year old. I woke up in the middle of the night with horrible stomach cramps and diarrhea (possibly due to the junk food I'd eaten in celebration) and kept company with the toilet for multiple long hours. Which then meant that I was completely exhausted when we headed over to my in-laws house for a family party later in the day. And I couldn't help thinking, is this a sign? That things going to continue to be crap (yes, intentional) through 2016 as well?

But then I thought of this expression and wondered...if my new year comes in like a lion, maybe that means it will go out like a lamb? I know that it is just a saying and not truly an official prediction. And that how my year goes, has more to do with me and how I handle the things that come my way more than living by this silly adage. Still, what if?

Dementors vs. Weeping Angels

We've been having a discussion at our house. And maybe we're flying our geek flag by even having this debate, but so be it. We are a family that enjoys science fiction and fantasy. Our discussion...the worst of the baddies. The creepy creatures that give us nightmares. Specifically which would you least like to run into, the one that would do the most damage to you, the creepiest, scariest, most horrifying.
So here it is: Which would be worse to deal with: Dementors or Weeping Angels?

Dementors being the creatures that guard the wizard prison Azakaban in the Harry Potter universe. The horrible, skeleton like creatures who glide (not fly like in the movie...they got that so wrong) towards you with their horrible rattling breath and rotten flesh stink, making you feel like you'll never be happy again. In fact they feed off your happy thoughts and eventually you go mad with despair. Not to mention, if you're really unlucky they may "kiss" you and the Dementors kiss is apparently worse than death because they basically suck out your soul leaving just a shell.




Weeping Angels are alien creatures from Doctor Who....stone angel statues so named because of their tendency to keep their hands over their eyes so as to not accidentally look at each other. This makes them look as though they are crying. They feed off their victim's time energy. They constantly come ever closer every time you blink and to keep them at bay you have to stare at them...it's the only way to keep them "quantum locked." (Which is why they cover their eyes from each other as well.) They are creepy and scary...their faces serene and bland until they get closer when their features become more demonic with vampire teeth and clawing hands. They can move very quickly and silently and also through images. Their aims...to touch you and send you back in time to live out your life in the past while they feed off the time energy you would've had in the present. However, they have also been known to snap your neck and rearrange your brains if it suits their desires.

So which is worse? I'm not sure we ever decided. Running into a Dementor seems to be the least desirable the two. However if you know how to produce a patronus charm, you can definitely fight them off. Weeping Angels will indeed get you if you are the one that have set their sights on. It's pretty hard to escape a Weeping Angel...I mean really, eventually you will lose the staring contest. Weeping Angels always win, but most likely (you know, if they don't decide to rip your head off) you'll just get sent back to live your life in the past.

I have had nightmares of Weeping Angels. More than once. But never nightmares of Dementors. Does that say anything? Maybe Weeping Angels are the creepiest but the Dementors are the most dangerous? I'm not sure. But there you have it. A discussion for a Wednesday afternoon.

TGIF

Today is Friday.

Friday is lots of things.
First and foremost, Friday starts the weekend. Which means anticipation of a Saturday where maybe life slows down a little bit. Or if not, at least is different. It does not mean sleeping in...because weekend or no, Brandon will still have gymnastics.

Sometimes Friday means date night. But only if it is an early date night...because, gymnastics. Did I mention that already? And I drive carpool Friday nights.

Friday means I stay up late. Not because I get to sleep in on Saturdays (see above). But because usually Julianne is out on a date or at a party and I feel like I should wait up for her as a good Mommy is wont to do.

Friday is garbage day. So after sending Lilian off to catch the school bus, I run around the house in a mad dash to get all the house garbages emptied and into the big, black garbage can and out to the curb in a race against the garbage truck's arrival. Sometimes I miss it. Sometimes I purposely decide the big, black can isn't overly full anyhow so I'm not going to worry about it. Sometimes I think I really ought to deal with it all on Thursday night but usually I'm not that organized.

Friday used to be Winder Dairy delivery day and oh, how we would look forward to that chocolate chip pumpkin bread that was on our standard order. But then Bryan decided that paying $2.99 for a half gallon of milk when you could pay $2.50 for a whole gallon at the grocery store down the street was just ludicrous...my protestations of taste, quality and convenience notwithstanding. We put a stop to our Winder Dairy deliveries. And it was for the best, it really was. But I do miss that pumpkin bread.

If I'm really on the ball, Friday means dry cleaning pick-up. Or drop off if I've left something out on Tuesday.

Friday is early-out schedule for Lilian. Which is sometimes good and sometimes bad. Early-out throws my schedule all cockeyed what with having to remember that Lilian comes home two hours earlier that day. I'm always worried that I'll forget and be having a lovely lunch somewhere with a friend, only to get an indignant call from my 2nd grader wondering where I am and what she's supposed to do in the meantime?

But most importantly? Friday is P-DAY! At least for these next couple of weeks while Rebekah is at the MTC.
P-Day means an email. And if I'm lucky and happen to be on-line at the right time, a little back and forthing with the emails which kind of, sort of feels like texting? Hey, I'll take it. Because once she gets to London we'll have a 7 hour time difference. Which means I'll be up in the middle of the night if I want to back and forth email with her. And really, I'm not sure how often it will happen. Oh, I'm most definitely willing to give up sleep for it...maybe just not every week. Realistically, I'm not entirely sure what time she'll be on-line today. So no guarantees really, of anything more than a newsie little email from my missionary girl. But when you are really missing that missionary girl....an email is worth its weight in gold. (Well, emails don't actually weigh anything...but you get the idea. Just go with it.)

So, TGIF!

Bottling sleep

"Wouldn't it be nice if we could bottle sleep?" said Julianne as she prepared for a late night of homework with a subsequent earlier-than-usual morning wake-up call a few hours later. During the summer, she said....morning after morning of sleeping late. She wished it were possible to bottle that extra sleep to stock up and save for those times during the school year when she needed to get through those long nights of math homework and essay writing or mornings where she is required to be at the school by 6:30AM for a rehearsal or meeting.

Or how about a sleep factory? Where people are employed to sleep...and you could purchase bottles of zzzzz's to supplement your own. Can you imagine it? I mean, I'm assuming the sleep factory would have to be rather particular about who they hired. After all, if it is sleep they are after, insomniacs clearly need not apply. And they'd want to offer a quality product so restless sleepers like me who toss and turn all night long would likely not get hired either...

But what about dreaming? Aren't those kind of crucial to our well being? Supposedly dreaming assists our body with rest and rejuvenation but also in a psychological way, our dreams help reduce stress by reexamining the day's events and shifting through thoughts while we sleep. Some believe that the symbolism of our dreams are how our minds subconsciously communicate with us. If we bought bottled sleep, would we be viewing the dreams of someone else? How potentially confusing would that be for our psyches?

Maybe rather than bottle sleep we should find a way to bottle time so we could spend more of it on sleep when needed. Or perhaps just borrow one of those fancy time turners from Harry Potter...

Quiet vs Silence

I had to write a paper for a class once, I think it was in college, about sound. I can't remember if it was for a music appreciation class, or possibly english or maybe science? The gist of the assignment was to try and find silence and then write about the experience. The point likely being that we are surrounded by sound always, many times not even realizing it. Back ground noise, white noise, stuff you just tune out. Quiet is achievable but complete silence is hard to find. Of course you are going to hear and notice the honk of the car picking up the neighbor kid for school, the music coming from your son's downstairs bedroom, the chatter on the TV, the cows mooing in the field behind your house, your daughter's mindless whistling of the same tune over and over again.

I think we are pretty good at tuning certain sounds out, once we get used to them. I can be completely oblivious to electronic game music from the iPad, our 5 chirping parakeets, even the aforementioned whistling. To escape this noise Bryan frequently has to take refuge in his man cave. That being said, he is able to sleep right through the noise of a crying baby in the middle of the night, or the continuous chirping of a smoke detector with a battery that needs to be changed...sounds that get my attention immediately.

My point is....quiet is achievable and oftentimes desirable. But silence is frequently broken by such tuned-out, previously unnoticeable things such as the house settling, a creak in the floorboards as you walk down the hall, water running through the pipes, a car driving past an outside window....if you really take the time to listen.

Today my house seems quiet. I am home alone and have not turned on the radio or TV. The dishwasher is not running, I'm not tumble drying any loads of laundry. But my house is not silent. Besides the tap, tap, tap of my fingers on the keyboard as I type this, I hear a constant hum. From my bedroom upstairs it's mostly white noise. But it sounds a bit like the engine of an airplane or cruise ship. Downstairs the sound is much louder, to the point of having to raise my voice if I were to try and talk to anyone.

There are ten industrial fans plugged into various outlets and blowing air into two bedrooms, the hallway and the storage room. When the irrigation water was turned on by the city and released into our sprinkler pipes yesterday, a pipe in the manifold next to Julianne's basement bedroom cracked under the pressure, and we ended up with untold gallons of water leaking under the window, seeping down the walls and spreading throughout the bedroom and into the hall. A disaster recovery company arrived a few hours later and in their wake left said fans to dry things out.

It's not an irritating noise. It's a sound I can mostly tune out from upstairs. But its constant engine like hum is indeed ever present. I'm sure the sound is masking other noises I would normally be hearing...sounds from outside, the creaking floorboards, etc. Maybe these fans, despite the sound they are making, are causing me to have an even quieter day than I would normally...

Browsing Pinterest

Pinterest is an interesting website.

I resisted getting an account for a long time. I'd heard others bemoan how addicting the site was and knowing how dependent I already was on other social media sites (Facebook, I'm looking at you), the last thing I needed was another time waster.

But I was also finding myself bookmarking recipes and saving quotes and pictures of cool DIY crafts or home designs to my desktop often. I was constantly trying to find ways to organize it all, when I finally realized, isn't that what Pinterest is for?

So I signed up...and hoped to develop some self control if the site did prove to be overly alluring.

That was a few years ago. And amazingly (and thankfully) it has become more of a tool than a time waster. Recipes are probably what I use it for the most. But Pinterest has helped me come up with multiple ideas for birthday celebrations, holiday decor, hairstyles, craft projects, etc. I use Pinterest as a research tool, more or less...I can't believe how handy it is.

Oh, there are definitely times that I sit down to browse just for the sheer fun of it. It's interesting to see what the people I follow (my neighbors and friends) are pinning because in many cases it gives me a pretty good idea as to what they are up to. Kind of like people watching, but virtually.

For example:
     I could tell from her pins that I had a neighbor that was looking to build a new home long before she put her house in our neighborhood up for sale.
     This morning I saw pins from a couple of girls of Jane Austen hairstyles and laughed as I realized it is because they are both in the upcoming play at the high school where they will be performing Pride and Prejudice. Clearly they are trying to figure out how to do their hair for the show.
     I can tell when a holiday is coming up....Elf on the Shelf and neighbor gift/craft pins at Christmas, homemade valentines when someone has an elementary age child around Valentines Day, Halloween costumes, etc.
     I can tell when someone is trying to get in shape because they pin more exercise routines and ideas for diets.
     Someone in the mood to bake pins a lot cake, cookies and other such desserts recipes.
     Romantic and wedding type pins...lots of hearts and temples,  show up when someone is happily in a relationship.
     And quotes...always quotes. Depending on the type of quote, I can usually get the gist of what kind of mood they are in, what they are wishing to be better at, how they are feeling.

And I'm sure the same goes for me. People can tell when I'm in a wanderlust mood and yearning for a vacation because I pin lots of pictures and travel quotes to my vacation bucket list board. It likely becomes really obvious when I'm planning a birthday party. Or when the yogini in me is resurfacing after a few months off. A few times a month a bunch of recipes show up as I try to figure out new things to cook for family dinners. And by the quotes I pin, I'm sure I'm opening a little window as to what is on my mind at that particular moment.

Some examples of what I've pinned recently:

Wanderlust

I was having a happy dream this morning. Julianne and I were in New York City. We were just finishing up lunch at a sidewalk cafe where not only were we enjoying some fabulous food but also taking in the sights and doing some major people watching. We were talking about heading to the theatre district next...I was so excited to take my drama queen daughter to see the big marquees over the theatres advertising all the fabulous shows on Broadway.

And then my alarm went off. And I experienced a big old let down...seeing that not only was it 6:30 and time to wake up even though I was still tired, but the realization that my happy day in NYC was only a dream.

I've got a serious case of wanderlust today. After getting the kids out the door I spent quite a bit of time on Pinterest looking up and pinning pictures of beautiful places and amazing adventures to my "travel bucket list" board. And with each pin my wanderlust grew to the point that I could actually feel it physically.

I started to worry that this Pinterest drooling was going to lead to some serious discontent. After all, I'm lucky enough live in an incredibly beautiful place already. A place that I take for granted but that others very well may be pinning pictures of to their own bucket lists.

But the more I thought about the things I've already seen, the places I've already been, the adventures I've already had....I realized that I'm pretty darn lucky.

*I've taken a helicopter to the top of a glacier in Alaska and drank pure glacier water from my cupped hand.
*I've stood at the railing of a ship and watched lava from a volcano in Hawaii spit and bubble and flow down into the water where it then doused itself in a hiss of steam.
*I've bundled myself up in multiple layers so I could sit outside in 16 degrees to watch the opening ceremonies of  the Salt Lake 2002 Winter Olympics.
*I've prayed in the Sacred Grove in Palmyra, New York.
*I've been to Stingray City in Grand Cayman, standing in the gorgeous blue-green water with huge stingrays swimming around and brushing up against my ankles...and then had the opportunity to hold them (and kiss them for 9 years good luck).
*I've hiked Angels Landing in Zions National Park and sung "Oh That I Were an Angel" at the top.
*I've seen the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence in person at the National Archives in Washington D.C.
*I've walked across the ornate Tower Bridge in London and watched the pomp and circumstance of the changing of the guards at Buckingham Palace.
*I've taken a boat through choppy waters right up to the base of Niagara Falls, the mist blowing into my face...and freezing because we did it all in a freak early autumn snow storm.
*I've climbed to the top of El Castillo in Chichen Itza. In 110 degrees.
*I've skied "the best snow on earth" in Park City, something that people come from all over the world to do. (And where I fell on my face 7 times.)
*I've prayed at the Wailing Wall and then had the overwhelmingly spiritual experience of standing inside Jesus Christ's tomb in Jerusalem.
*I saw "Anything Goes" on Broadway just a few weeks before it won Best Revival and Best Actress for the incomparable Sutton Foster at the Tony Awards. Oh, and I also saw that one little musical called "Wicked"....you know, as long as I was there and all.
*I've vacationed on a house boat at Lake Powell. Multiple times.
*I've walked the Las Vegas Strip.
*I've been to the Alamo.
*I've sailed to Alcatraz.
*I've driven across the Golden Gate Bridge.
*I've explored Metropolitan Museum of Art.
*I've wandered through Central Park.
*I've visited the homes of George Washington (Mount Vernon) and Thomas Jefferson (Monticello).
*I've parasailed over the waters of the Caribbean.

Not to say that I'm satisfied. I'm not anywhere close to saying "I've seen enough in my lifetime...I guess I'm done." Because I'm itching for all sorts of adventure and new places to explore and experience. But it did help to reign in my raging case of wanderlust....at least for a little while.

Christmas Jenga

I promised myself last year that Christmas 2012 was going to be the year. The year that I had it all together. I was going to start my shopping the first day of October and be done by Thanksgiving. Instead of Black Friday shopping, I would spend the day writing my Christmas letter. I was going to have the house decorated and everything wrapped by the first of December so I could spend the month trying out new Christmas goodie recipes, playing through all my Christmas song books on the piano and watching Christmas movies with my kids. (Would you believe I still haven't ever seen such classics as Miracle on 34th Street, A Christmas Story or Holiday Inn?) Every night I was going to gather my little ones around me for a Christmas story and then family prayer before bed. It was going to be a busy season, yes...what with the various concerts and plays we were involved in...but I was going to enjoy the journey and when we were home, I was going to really be home.
But everyone got sick. And prepping for the the plays and concerts took up more time that anticipated. And my shopping didn't get done until this past Friday. I almost didn't even write the Christmas letter....the cards got dropped off at the post office just yesterday afternoon which means they probably won't be delivered before Christmas. I didn't wrap a single present until I set up gift wrapping central last night and spent five hours wrapping and curling ribbon. Rather than be the year....I ended up more behind than I have ever been any other Christmas season. I found myself overwhelmed and frustrated.

So today in church when I heard this quote from President Uchtdorf's 2011 Christmas fireside talk, you can probably understand why I sat up and took special notice...

Sometimes it seems that our efforts to have a perfect Christmas season are like a game of Jenga—you know, the one played with small wooden blocks that are precariously stacked up to a tower. As we try to increase the height of the tower, we pull out one wooden block before we can place it on top of the delicate structure.

Each of those little wooden blocks is a symbol of the perfect Christmas events we so desperately want to have. We have in our minds a picture of how everything should be—the perfect tree, the perfect lights, the perfect gifts, and the perfect family events. We might even want to re-create some magical moment we remember from Christmases past, and nothing short of perfection will do.

Sooner or later, something unpleasant occurs—the wooden blocks tumble, the drapes catch fire, the turkey burns, the sweater is the wrong size, the toys are missing batteries, the children quarrel, the pressure rises—and the picture-perfect Christmas we had imagined, the magic we had intended to create, shatters around us. As a result, the Christmas season is often a time of stress, anxiety, frustration, and perhaps even disappointment.

But then, if we are only willing to open our hearts and minds to the spirit of Christmas, we will recognize wonderful things happening around us that will direct or redirect our attention to the sublime. It is usually something small—we read a verse of scripture; we hear a sacred carol and really listen, perhaps for the first time, to its words; or we witness a sincere expression of love. In one way or another, the Spirit touches our hearts, and we see that Christmas, in its essence, is much more sturdy and enduring than the many minor things of life we too often use to adorn it.

Because when I think back on the past few weeks, there really have been plenty of those sublime Christmas moments. Moments that maybe I enjoyed while they were happening, certainly...but quickly forgot in the mad rush of the season. I wanted the whole season to be that way...full of the spirit of Christmas everyday and always, and yet that is fairly unrealistic. I'm glad that in hindsight, most likely what my mind will focus on and replay in months to come are those special moments. But I hope that I'll also remember next year to not set my expectations so high and to not be as hard on myself. To try, certainly, to make the season memorable and magical for myself and my family...but to realize and remember that most likely that magic will come in unexpected ways mixed in with the day-to-day mundane. We just need to look a little closer.

Words

I've  heard a lot of people say that they simply have no words when it comes to the Sandy Hook shooting in Connecticut. Meaning I suppose, that the horror is so overwhelming that no words can describe the depth of feeling. And I get that.

The thing is...I have a lot of words. The first words out of my mouth when I read about the tragedy on Friday morning were raw, rough, and filled with emotional rage. They weren't pretty words, they weren't comforting words. They weren't even words of grief. I was furious and frightened. I was glad that my children didn't hear those words or see their mother that way.

The rage spent (or at least at bay for the time being), then came the words of grief. And of warning. Lilian, I had planned to shield. My 5-year old Kindergartner...she I could hopefully keep this from. I didn't want to burden her with the fear of this. How lucky I am that for me and my family it can be that way. There are plenty of young children Lilian's age that saw and heard and now know things that they should not have to at this age. There are plenty of children Lilian's age that are now dead. Unlike far too many parents, this is not something I have to deal with. Thank God. But my other children...they needed to know.

Rebekah and Julianne had already heard, which was to be expected. But Brandon...an elementary age child himself, 6th grade...he had not heard the news. It was horrifically ironic. Just two days earlier he and his friend had asked me a question. "Why is The Matrix rated 'R', Mom?" When I told them that it was because of violence, Brandon downplayed it in a kind of incredulous, disgusted sort of way. "Violence, really? What's the big deal about violence?" Violence in movies and games, I explained, was dangerous. Because the more frequently you watch, the more graphic the violent images you let into your mind, the more you kill the aliens and bad guys in first person shooter games...the easier it is to become desensitized. The violence isn't shocking anymore. And it becomes all too easy to say exactly that..."What's the big deal about violence?" And then I told them about Columbine High. It happened before they were born and somehow they had never heard about the horrors that had happened there, the grief, the questions, the lessons learned. I found my computer search engine open to archived news reports of Columbine High later that evening. I was glad they had taken me seriously.
So it was with tears pouring down my face that I told Brandon of the Sandy Hook shooting. "This is why." I told him. "27 people are dead, 20 of them children. Because of violence." Obviously we don't know all the reasons why the shooter did what he did, what was going through his head. But clearly, violence IS a big deal.

Monday morning I sent my children off to school. Rebekah pulled out of the driveway in her own car heading to the high school. Julianne was picked up by her junior high carpool. I watched as Brandon and Lilian headed off to the bus stop down the street. And then waited on the cold front porch for a few minutes longer than usual as I watched the bus pull away. But I wasn't scared for their safety. And thankfully, neither were they.

An hour later I myself, was at the elementary school. Mondays are my day to volunteer for Brandon's teacher. And as I sat out in the common area stuffing folders with homework and PTA fliers...I could see children walking past me, hear teachers through open classroom doors teaching their students. I thought about Sandy Hook elementary and suddenly, though I had bounced between rage and grief all weekend long, it became all the more real to me being there in my children's elementary school. And I realized I was decidedly sick to my stomach. Very literally nauseous. I finished my task and with fresh awareness, walked through the halls to the office where I signed myself out as a volunteer, and then out the doors to my truck. I pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road and started to cry.

I don't know why this happened. It doesn't make any sense. I can't claim to understand what those parents are going through...the ones who have lost children, or the ones who haven't but are living through a different kind of horror. I can have sympathy and I can pray. And while I do so, I'll hug my own children a little bit tighter.

So, yes...for me, there ARE words. And right now I think the most important thing to use my words for, is to do this....

Unitas Per Harmonium (Unity Through Harmony)

I'm not sure I have ever been this invested in an election before. I've always followed the campaigns closely, always had opinions, always voted. But never before have I wanted SO BADLY for my guy to win. I cried, literally cried when Mitt Romney pulled out of the primary race heading into the 2008 election. Because I felt so strongly that he, over all other candidates was uniquely qualified to lead...especially in regards to economics, something that seemed extremely important seeing as we were in the middle of a pretty serious economic depression. 

Fast forward to 2012...I've watched this election closely with great anticipation, a lot of hope and a heavy dose of anxiety. Even more than 5 years ago, I feel with every fiber of my being that Romney is what our country needs right now. I don't care that he is a Mormon (the same religion I practice), I don't care that he is one of Utah's "favorite sons" because he saved our Olympics. It's the man....who he is, what he stands for, his experience and qualifications that makes me want to see him in the Oval Office. It was not to be. I find myself somewhat baffled that half of my fellow Americans don't see what I do. It seems so remarkably clear to me. And in the late hours of election night I wanted to rage and rant at the complete and utter idiocy of those Americans who think that keeping President Obama around for 4 more years is a good idea. I like President Obama. Truly I do. Overall I think he is a good man who is trying to do what he thinks is best for our country. I just don't happen to agree with him a lot of the time. 

What's done is done. And I'm glad it's done. I am tremendously disappointed, but also rather weary of it all. I'm not sure I've ever watched such a negative and nasty election season. In the candidates campaigns, yes...but also with Americans in general. We are truly a nation divided. I hope this is a wake-up call. I hope President Obama realizes that a solid half of the country does not like the way he is leading. I hope the Republican party realizes that if despite having a stellar candidate, they still couldn't win...well, maybe they need to do some inward reflection and figure out why. And I hope that all in Washington D.C. can stop the bickering and the blaming and the refusing to work with the folks across the aisle simply out of spite...and realize that democrats or republicans, we are all AMERICANS and we have got to find a way to work together, despite our differences.

I have a friend from high school who's husband penned this bit of opinion. I'm sharing it with you because it resonated with me. It's not pro-Romney or pro-Obama....just some unbiased thoughts about understanding each other and getting along. I especially like the final paragraph....brilliant!       

To My Red and Blue Friends:

I KNOW IT'S LONG, but I really don’t care if you read it. I needed to say it so that I could get on with my day and more cheerily work with Ohio University’s awesome students!

Please remember that while approximately half of the United States is elated at the results of the election, the other half feels acutely disenfranchised. It would have been so regardless of the outcome.

People on both sides of the aisle are genuinely – even profoundly fearful for the future of the nation – worried about their kids; worried about their ailing parents and special needs siblings; worried about fundamental physical and spiritual rights; worried about the planet; worried about spotted owls; worried about financial, social, and constitutional collapse. This fear is real, it is not paranoia, ignorance or lack of education and has precious little to do with whether our roots run red or blue – whether we prefer NASCAR or NPR. Instead, it stems from the legitimate concern that perhaps we “have” been on the wrong track – that things truly are no better than they were four years ago...or eight for that matter. Blame Bush, blame Obama, blame Vermont, blame Texas, blame Washington or Al Qaeda, blame me if you want, but here comes the reality check folks: Half of the citizenry thinks we may have just committed a grave and irreversible error. They feel the change, but not the hope.

Referring to slavery, Lincoln said: “A house divided against itself cannot stand.” Our current societal division is stark and alarmingly acrimonious. We are still standing, but on such feeble knees and shifting sands. I have heard Barack Obama impugn Congress, but they have also blamed him. Many fingers have been pointed: black ones, white ones, old and young, gay and straight, herbivore and carnivore, godly and atheistic, but gridlock is gridlock. Sure, compromise can often be beautiful, but let’s be real here: there are precious ideologies that neither side will EVER be willing to surrender. I hold many things sacred. So do each of you. I will not relinquish my right to say and act accordingly anymore than any other citizen ought to do. “Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”

We are currently mired in the medium, and it is not a happy one. I guess we just go on agreeing to disagree....or is it disagreeing to agree? I’m just not sure anymore. I do know this: Our ultimate goal must be to love and serve one another while still fighting passionately and respectfully for what we feel is right. I need to believe that this is still possible. I hope we can do it. We certainly haven’t been. We know it and the world knows it.

Unitas Per Harmonium (Unity Through Harmony)...the motto of the Singing Men of Ohio. Dissonance, when correctly handled is what makes harmony so beautiful. We don't have to be the same to be in tune!

Never forget

Julianne and her friends are wearing dresses to school today.  They decided that it would be their way of honoring and remembering those who died eleven years ago during the 9/11/01 terrorist attacks.  These girls are 14 years old.  Which means they don't likely have any real memories of their own from that horrific day seeing as they were only 3 years old at the time.  But over the years they have been taught about what happened and why.  They live in a post-9/11 world.  They see and live with the consequences of that day...even if they don't really understand it as anything but normal.  Some of those consequences are unfortunate.  But others are less so, including an increased patriotism and knowledge of one's history that causes a group of jr. high girls to dress up to show that they will "never forget."

My memories of 9/11

Spaghetti for one

The older girls are at a church activity.  The younger girl is asleep on the couch.  And father and son stopped for burgers on the way home from gymnastics.  Which means....spaghetti for only moi.  And that's okay because my homemade spaghetti (my mom's recipe, really) is my most favorite of all comfort foods.  Not that I really need comfort today.  It's been a good day, actually.  But I'm feeling all sorts of cozy, contented and domestic as I putter around my kitchen....barefoot (but NOT pregnant, thankfully).  I love my kitchen.  It's so pretty and functional.  So when I throw on my apron so as to not get my new cute little summery sundress dirty, turn on some music (today...Claude Bolling's Suite for Orchestra and Jazz Piano) and start throwing together ingredients...it feels really good.  (Do you listen to music while you cook?  It's rare that I don't have something playing.  And though I have a fairly varied playlist...when I cook I usually prefer classical.  Well that, or Broadway show tunes.  Not sure why.)  

I've discovered something.  Maybe some of you know that cooking hasn't ever been my favorite thing.  Oh, in the past 19 years I've become fairly decent at it.  I just don't love it.  But in my quest to try and make family time an essential part of our day, I've realized that there is a difference between "cooking" and "making dinner."  Making dinner revolves around family time, not just frying chicken or mashing potatoes.  And therefore, somehow I'm finding I actually enjoy it all when it's wrapped up in the thought of serving my family rather than seeing it as nothing more than just a chore to be done.  And so it's the cooking, yes, but more than that, it's also the prep work leading up to the meal...the menu building and grocery shopping and even down to setting the table.  All of it so when we sit down together, all six of us at the dinner table I feel like we're being fed more than just physically...the togetherness being just as important as the actual meal.  Kind of interesting how a different perspective can change so much, yes?    

That place...

I'm at that place again.  That same place I occupied six years ago.  The one where I found myself grappling with thoughts of entering a new phase of life.  With all of my children in school, what would I do with myself?  Oh, I had no doubt I would keep busy regardless.  But I found myself with a desire to do more, to reinvent myself, maybe?  To challenge myself?  However you describe it, this is the place I found myself inhabiting six years ago.  Brandon was heading off to Kindergarten.  Thoughts of a masters degree, or voice lessons to prepare myself for potential auditions for theatres or choirs?  Or volunteering at a museum, or getting a job?  All of those ideas came to a screeching halt as one very big and overwhelming thought took their place.  Another baby.  (Another baby???)  So I exited that place and reentered one that was familiar...but with the vague feeling that this place and I needed to be reintroduced.  It had been many years since I had dealt with morning sickness, maternity clothes and cravings.  Nighttime feedings, diapers and spit-up were something I thought was in my past.  But oh, that sweet little face.  Those coos and giggles and smiles.  That fresh-out-of-the-bath new baby smell.  It was the right place to be at that time.

But six years have passed.  That baby is a baby no more.  Lilian is heading off to Kindergarten this September.  And though I know I won't be jumping into anything immediately, I'm finding myself in that new phase of life place again.  I've spent the morning researching masters programs and museum jobs.  And the more I read, the more excited I become.  I don't know yet, what I will choose to do.  I know that whatever it is, it'll be something that will allow me to still be a mother and wife first and foremost.  But I can feel it...that pull.  

One more star, one more stripe

It's been a week.  Over a week, actually, since I last posted.  This is unusual for me.  But it's been a week.  You don't need the details... and frankly, I just don't want to get into it.  Suffice it to say, my emotions have been all over the map.

But right now I am listening to some Sara Bareilles, Lilian is still asleep (at 10:52 AM!!!) and everyone else is gone.  I'm enjoying some down time.  Should I be vacuuming, emptying garbages and sorting laundry?  Oh, undoubtedly.  There is a very good chance I will regret this potentially unwise use of time later.  But maybe it's not unwise, after all.  I think maybe I need this sit still and be quiet time.

Life is busy in May.  I've long since realized that May exceeds even December in terms of hectic.  But when I glance at my calendar I realize that things aren't about to get easier any time soon.  I have so many things penciled into each and every square in every shade of pink, orange, green and blue pen that the whole month of June looks like a firecracker ready to explode.
3 days till school's out.
4 days till Little Red Riding Hood.  (We're going up Friday, actually, and spending the night.)
5 days till Lilian's birthday.
11 days till San Diego.
16 days till Ragnar.
And this is just the tip of the iceberg.
(Yes, I realize I'm mixing my metaphors...fireworks and icebergs don't tend to go together.  Work with me here, people.)

So I'm busy.  Maybe I'll be able to truly take time off somewhere around the second week of July.  We'll see.  So what that I've somehow found myself in charge of numerous events?  (An example:  Ragnar team captain...more work than I thought it would be.)  It's all good stuff.  I just need to be thankful for and savor the experiences, yes?  Delve into the details and find the joy in them.  At least that's what I keep telling myself.  Because as much as I am physically busy, the stress comes from trying to mentally keep it all straight in my head.  And in the meantime, I've decided that a spotless house and a perfectly manicured yard is overrated.

In a completely unrelated change of topic but something I have been thinking about nonetheless...
In my voice recital last night I sang "The Flagmaker, 1775" from Songs for a New World.  All about a woman whose son and husband are fighting the British in the Revolutionary War.  She's worried, scared, frustrated, so she spends her time stitching...one more star, one more stripe.

With the guns flaring, and the drums pounding
There's no hope of getting rest.
With the lights glaring, and the calls sounding
And the clenching in your chest.

When the man's in battle and the baby's rattle
Only makes you more depressed...
The wise woman does what she knows.
If it's fighting she fights. If it's sewing she sews.
When the tension inside overflows and goes too far...

One more star, one more stripe, to escape your lonely bed.
One more star, one more stripe, join the blue, the white and red.
One more star, one more stripe, as you pray your child's not dead.

With the roof leaking, and walls wetter
And the night as black as pitch.
With the wind shrieking, and his last letter
Says he's fighting in a ditch.
Then the candle flickers, and the river bickers
What else can you do but stitch?

One more star, one more stripe, til you feel the rising sun.
One more star, one more stripe, til this foolishness is done.
One more star, one more stripe. Who'll be waiting when we've won?

Grab a needle, grab a thimble if it's all that keeps you sane.
Think of freedom as a symbol, think of justice as a gain.
Think of life with independence, think of muskets and brigades
Think of taking the oppressors, think of banners and parades.

When the gate creaks
And the paint cracks
And the cat cries
And the night crawls
Raise a flag!
Raise a flag!
Raise a flag til you're free!

One more star, one more stripe, til this bloodshed's finally through.
One more star, one more stripe, til they come back home to you.
One more star, one more stripe, when there's nothing you can do.

If they take all the things
That define what you were and are...
One more star...  

I really dug into this performance, really put myself into the character.  By mid-song I was more or less into full mental break down mode as the character finds herself trying hard not to completely lose it.  It was...fun?  Well, yes...actually.  It's always a neat challenge and experience when you can feel the song you are performing well enough to really become the character.  I admire this woman.  And the other men and women like her who fought for our independence, for our freedoms.  I think we take those freedoms for granted today.  And I think that we are all too willing to give them up in the name of "security."  Freedom comes with risks.  If you want to be truly free, then you have to understand that things like 9/11 can happen.  Ask yourself....15 years ago if you could see into the future and watch yourself try to board a plane, would you be appalled at all the hoops we have to jump through? To the point that we are willingly walking through full body scanners, letting strangers see us nude, just so we can fly?  With only the slightest bit of a whimper from the public as a whole.  Scanners that are so graphic that children under 12 aren't allowed to walk through because the images are too close to child porn?  But we feel safer, right?  So it's all okay.  It's a slippery slope, my friends.

My privacy has been breached this past week.  It's a little bit funny if you think about it, because I spend a lot of time being anything but private as I share all sorts of details about my life on Facebook and this blog.  And yet...it is MY CHOICE as to what I share.  I live a small life.  Valuable to maybe just a small handful of people.   But the thought of someone snooping through my private life without my consent, bothers me more than I can tell.  I feel violated.  Realistically, however, there is nothing I can do about it so I go on with my life....one more star, one more stripe.

Entertainment vs. Education. Escapism vs. Influence.

I've been reading a lot of the articles coming out that have been comparing Hunger Games and Twilight.  I suppose the comparisons are inevitable.  Some writers are showing seeming similarities between the two....one such similarity being that the two books both have a love triangle between one girl and two boys.  Other writers are comparing the heroines, Katniss and Bella.  And then others are comparing the two entertainment franchises that are more or less competing for the hearts of the same fans.  Hunger Games is the next Twilight.  But remember when Twilight was the next Harry Potter...in terms of it being a series of books made into movies?  Well, that and the whole rabid fan issue?  Remember even further back when the first Harry Potter books came out and critics worried that the subject of witches, wizards and magic were evil and would corrupt our childrens' minds...rather than doing just the opposite, which was getting our children more excited about reading than they had ever been before?  (I tell you what, it was because of that controversy that I started reading the Harry Potter books to begin with.  I thought all the critical talk was pure rubbish but needed to read the books first before joining the fray.  Kind of hard to speak with any authority on the subject if you haven't actually read the books...which, I might add, were what many of the critics were doing.  They hadn't even read the stories before completely dismissing them out of hand!)   

In the article I read today the writer was debating which was the better role model, Katniss or Bella.  I was annoyed in a few ways.  One, he was trying to point out that though Katniss seemed on the surface to be the better role model, strong and independent...that in all actuality she's not that different than whiny, angsty Bella.  And I didn't agree.  But two, and even more irritating to me was the idea that we even needed to worry about what kind of role models they are in the first place and what kind of negative effects they could have on our children.  Seriously?  The last time I checked, these books are supposed to be entertainment.  Escapism.  For enjoyment purposes.  Is there really supposed to be some deeper meaning?  My daughters have read both of these series of books and frankly, I'm just glad they are reading.


And yet...it's not that simple is it?  Because as much we as adults say "it's just a story, FICTION...for heavens sake!" children's minds are more malleable.  As much as I did indeed love the Twilight story (and stayed up till 3:00 AM reading the first book because I was enjoying myself so much) I suppose if I really think about it, I don't want my daughters using Bella and Edward as an example of what a real relationship is or should be like.  But realistically, my daughters are smart.  And I would hope that when they read those books it never once occurred to them to wish and hope for a sexy, sparkly vampire to sneak into their rooms at night to watch them sleep.  Critics of The Hunger Games whine that it's an awful premise and much, much too violent.  Well, yes, I suppose.  But it's a story.  A story with a deeper meaning and symbolism?  Maybe.  I fully admit that the story spun around in my mind for days after I read it.  And made me wonder a lot about reality TV and what we consider entertainment in our own world.  It's always great when a book can grip your mind and keep your brain busy for a few days.  But first and foremost...The Hunger Games was a STORY.  Pure escapism.  Who doesn't like to lose themselves in a great story?  (Truth be told, as a mother reading to her children, I was inordinately glad that good triumphs evil in the world of Harry Potter.  But unfortunately, that's not always how the real world works.) 

I guess that's why I get so irritated.  Because studies have actually shown that our minds, and especially the minds of our children, ARE affected by what we read, watch and play.  A lot of times this isn't a bad thing.  If a book, a story can make me decide to be better, think harder, try something new...well I'm not going to complain about that, necessarily.  But can't we separate the real from the imaginary?  Especially when it's something so obviously out of the realms of the ordinary....like a whole super-secret society of witches and wizards, or an equally super-secret society of vampires and werewolves, or a reality TV show centered around children killing each other for sport and punishment.  (Okay...that last one may be not so out of the realms of reality, unfortunately, in certain countries.)  But I suppose if it were that simple I wouldn't have to consciously make a choice to stay away from intense and scary movies/books for fear of nightmares.  Bryan's always telling me when I'm afraid to turn out the lights, "It's just a story, Sarah.  It's not real."  

Sigh 

Left brain or Right brain?

“I am the left brain. I am a scientist. A mathematician. I love the familiar. I categorize. I am accurate. Linear. Analytical. Strategic. I am practical. Always in control. A master of words and language. Realistic. I calculate equations and play with numbers. I am order. I am logic. I know exactly who I am.”

“I am the right brain. I am creativity. A free spirit. I am passion. Yearning. Sensuality. I am the sound of roaring laughter. I am taste. The feeling of sand beneath bare feet. I am movement. Vivid colors. I am the urge to paint on an empty canvas. I am boundless imagination. Art. Poetry. I sense. I feel. I am everything I wanted to be.”

Sometimes I feel like this is us.  Bryan, the left brain...Sarah, the right.  When we argue about something we tend to talk around and around in circles, having a hard time coming to a satisfactory conclusion because Bryan argues with logic and facts while I argue with emotion and feelings.  We are very different, the two of us.  Differences in likes and dislikes, entertainment and hobbies.  We come together on the important things, of course.  But beyond that, I'm discovering that I rather like the fact that we are so different.  Somehow it feels like we balance each other out.  Honestly, I think it makes life more interesting...a little more full.  And while we definitely have learned to support and be happy for each other in our various endeavors we also find ourselves doing things together maybe we wouldn't choose to do singly.  For an example...during one week, Bryan came to watch me perform in a musical, "Power in His Touch," at the Rose Wagner Theatre in Salt Lake City...and then two days later I accompanied him to Pahrump, Nevada where we participated in a two day defensive handgun course.   

Looking at it another way I suppose you could say that I am the yin to Bryan's yang.  Yin and Yang.  Right brain and left brain.  However you want to define it....it's us and it is a good thing.
   
 

Sunday thoughts...

* I really don't like Daylight Savings Time.  Honestly, I don't care if it is lighter in the evenings.  I am annoyed that my lighter mornings are now plunged into darkness again.  I hate that all of our biological schedules will take a good week to get readjusted.  Can't we pick a time and just stick with it?  (With apologies to my father who is a big fan of DST.)

* Sunday naps.  Seriously, one of THE best things about having early church.

* Playing the piano in primary today the thought came to me that I'm really very glad that my parents never let me quit lessons when I begged.

* Broken toe or not?  Unsure.  The swelling on Brandon's pinky toe has gone down simultaneously with the bruising becoming more obvious.  But the limping has all but disappeared.  Good news for a boy who is competing in the state gymnastics meet this coming Saturday.

* A driving assignment with her Drivers Ed teacher required Rebekah to be at the high school at 6:30 AM yesterday.  Just in case you haven't put two and two together...that's a SATURDAY MORNING, people!  I was less than pleased.  Apparently next Saturday will be replay.  Sigh.

* Temperatures are forecast to be in the 60's for the rest of the week.  I have never been this excited for spring.  It's been an emotionally hard winter so I am very much looking forward to standing outside with my bare feet digging into the grass and my head thrown back so the sun can shine fully on my face.  Somehow I think it will be rejuvenating.

* I am still smacking my lips with the thought of the yummy salad Bryan made yesterday for dinner.  Simple...just mixed greens, fresh mozzarella, cherry tomatoes, croutons and a vinaigrette.  It was scrumptious and to die for.  (Dad...that's for you.)  :)  I'm wondering if the reason I'm still dreaming about it has something to do with the fact that our Sunday dinner this afternoon was more of a fend-for-yourself sort of meal... 

* St. Patricks Day is in less than a week.  I like St. Patricks Day.  I feel my Irish roots surfacing.  And despite the fact that everyone is honorary Irish on the 17th of March, I find myself unabashedly proud that I'm official.

Live Deliberately

My last post has become the 3rd highest viewed post since I started this blog back in 2008.  I wasn't really sure why, at first.
A fluke?
Bad weather outside equals more on-line time?
It'd been almost a week since my last post and you all missed me?  (HA!)

But then I realized what it must be.  The title.  My post is titled "A ridiculously long time in coming..."
Tell the truth...you all thought I was making some big announcement, didn't you?


To clear the record, clean the slate, etc...

I am NOT pregnant.
We are NOT moving.
We are STILL happily married.
Rebekah is NOT legally licensed to drive.
The man cave is still NOT done.
I have NOT lost 10 pounds.  (darn)
Etc, etc, etc.

Sorry if I unearthed your inner gossip.  No big news here.

In all actuality I feel like I'm in a rut.  I'm busy, certainly.  In fact, for the past few days I've had so much going on that I've felt like I've been living in the land of crazy!  But somehow despite that, I feel like I'm in a rut.  I get up and do the same things day after day.  I don't wake up excited about my to-do list.  I don't even make a to-do list.  And though I have a desire to change this pattern, I'm having a hard time making myself do it.  A self-defeating, spiraling cycle.

Maybe it's a bad case of January-itis.  Though normally I really like January.
Maybe I'm missing performing....I've taken the last few months off from voice lessons.
Maybe I need more sleep.  (probably)
Maybe I spend way too much time each morning sitting in front of my computer checking emails, commenting on FB, reading blogs, writing blogs and just surfing the internet in general.

Realistically, I think I'm not using my time well.  I feel like I'm letting life just happen to me and then reacting to it, rather than living deliberately.  Which makes me, well...kind of depressed.  So then, feeling bad, I sit around.  And let life happen to me some more.  Which then makes me more depressed.  You see the cycle here?  I go to bed each night feeling like I didn't really do anything with my day...knowing full well that it is my own fault. 

I have a good, full life.  And I am happy.  I am blessed with good and sweet children, a beautiful home and a husband who not only loves me but supports me in my hobbies...singing and choirs, running and biking, etc.  I have interesting and varied friends from all phases of my life that I still frequently get together with.  My live is GOOD.  So why do I feel this way?

Honestly, I hesitate to say any of this.  I'm pretty sure that it is just winter blues or something equally silly.  Chances are good that I will feel much better next week.  But in the meantime...maybe I should look at making some changes in my daily life.  Changes wrapped around living deliberately, looking at each day as a gift and using my time more productively and wisely.

Some thoughts from Elder Ian S. Arderm's talk in General Conference that really jumped out at me last October:  
*With the demands made of us, we must learn to prioritize our choices to match our goals or risk being exposed to the winds of procrastination and being blown from one time-wasting activity to another.

*I know our greatest happiness comes as we tune in to the Lord and to those things which bring a lasting reward, rather than mindlessly tuning in to countless hours of status updates, Internet farming, and catapulting angry birds at concrete walls. I urge each of us to take those things which rob us of precious time and determine to be their master, rather than allowing them through their addictive nature to be the master of us.

I decided back in December that my New Years resolution/Word of the Year should be Live Deliberately.  Last year it was Essential.  The year before that it was Balance.  And as I thought more about it I realized that basically they all mean the same thing.  Balancing my time and activities, doing the Essential things first, Living Deliberately so I'm not just reacting to whatever life throws at me...    Each year's word may have a slightly different spin but obviously I still haven't got this concept right.  This is something I struggle with and need continued work on.

So I'm hoping as I make some changes in how I live my daily life, I can pull myself out of this self-defeating little rut that I find myself frequently inhabiting.  Wish me luck that I can Live Deliberately this year!   

Temple Day

I spent 6.5 hours here today...split between morning and evening with the afternoon off so I could get Lilian to preschool and go to Brandon's SEP (Student, Educator, Parent) conference at school.
Our church ward decided to have a temple DAY and told us about it far enough in advance that we could make arrangements for child care and taking work off, if possible.  So our ward had people steadily filing in and out of those front doors all day long...all on different schedules but all trying to get as much time in as possible.

I've never spent that much time in the temple in one day before.  It was truly an amazing experience for me.  The peace and strength I felt there and took away with me at the end of the day was so rejuvenating.  I had so many new insights that are still swirling around in my brain this morning.  Most of them are too new and special to me...or too sacred, really, to share here.  But I do have one thing...

I am never in a very good mood on a temple day.  Oh, once I arrive my mood lifts immediately and I'm glad I'm there...it's the getting there that is the problem.  When I have made plans to attend the temple, say later in the evening...I know I'm in for a hard day.  Everything that can go wrong, will and I find myself fighting the urge to just stay home.  And truth be told, there are days where I have done just that.  Made excuses.  Told myself that I'd go a different day.  I know full well the reasons WHY, of course.  No way, no how does Satan want me going to the temple.  But knowing the reasons WHY things are going wrong...although it helps a little, still doesn't completely take away the frustration.    The same was true yesterday morning.  Oh, I never even considered NOT going but I found myself grumpy, irritated about all the sacrifices I was making to go, feeling sorry for myself that Bryan wasn't in town to go with me, etc.

After dropping Lilian off with a friend, I made my way up the hill to the temple and found myself parked next to a close friend from my neighborhood who was also just arriving.  As we walked together towards the front door she asked how my day was going.  Just polite conversation....but I told her, matter of factly, that of course my morning had not gone very smoothly.  She smiled.  She understood, she said.  About 5 years ago she made the decision to try to go to the temple every Friday morning.  Which means that every Friday morning getting the kids off to school is harder than usual, things come up, she's tired, she's grumpy.  BUT.  She had learned to look at those obstacles thrown in her way as an opportunity to become stronger and more determined to go.  And so now, when things come up to make her temple day rocky she just defiantly says, "Oh yeah??  You think THAT'S going to stop me??  You just watch!"  She says she stops short of saying "Bring it on!!"...because, well Satan can, realistically, do just that.  Why push it, right?  :)

Anyhow, this thought really stuck with me.  And it was what got me back to the temple later that evening when it would've been easy to tell myself that I'd already been that day and surely that was enough.  Realistically, it COULD'VE been enough.  But I had made the decision that I wanted to take advantage of this temple day... to truly make the sacrifices necessary to be in the temple for more time than I do normally.  So despite all thoughts to the contrary, I thought of my friend and her DETERMINATION....and headed back up the hill.
I'm so glad I did. 

Emotional Roller Coaster

A boy I grew up with in my neighborhood, was good friends with, even had a crush on for a time...committed suicide yesterday.  I have not seen this boy since high school (which is why I suppose I continue to think of him as a "boy" even though realistically he was a 39 year old man when he died) so I don't know where life took him after we all graduated and moved on.  Because my parents and his still live in that same neighborhood I have learned that besides a divorce under his belt, he had been struggling with other life challenges.  But suicide?  I know that it is, unfortunately, not uncommon.  But I have a really hard time wrapping my brain around it.  How completely and utterly devastated and worthless one must feel to think that killing yourself is the only option.  What was going through his mind when he stepped in front of that train early yesterday morning?

This comes at the tail end of a week that was already a bit of an emotional roller coaster.  Tuesday night found me sitting in my car until the wee hours of the night talking with a dear friend about the state of her marriage and debating whether she should seek a divorce.  This couple has been married for 18 years...I introduced them and served as maid of honor at their wedding.  And without going into details that are not really mine to share, I'll just say that both Bryan and myself have been extremely distraught and shed many tears of grief over the whole situation.  It hurts, literally hurts physically, when I think about it.
   
But then Bryan and I were rocked again (and extremely saddened) Thursday to hear the news that some other friends of ours have decided to divorce.  She worked for Bryan for many years and, more than just a stellar part of the team, she and her husband both became valuable friends.  I remember well with fond memories being with them when they were sealed in the temple.  I don't know the why's and how's of what went wrong.  And realistically, I don't need to know.  I can pray for them with or without details.

So this morning my emotions were raw as I told Bryan about my friend who committed suicide.  Why is life so hard sometimes?  I found myself unexpectedly in tears as I shared my immense gratitude for our relationship and the love we share.  We have had our fair share of fairly serious trials.  Life has been very hard on us at times.  As it is for everyone, really.  Because after all, this life is meant to be a test, isn't it?  However, I firmly believe that "...men are that they might have joy"  (2 Nephi: 2:25) and that we have agency.  Which means that despite the crap that life throws at us at times (because of poor decisions or no) we have the choice and the ability to endure, overcome and be happy.

How I hope and pray that despite the truly awful things my friends are going through, they will eventually find comfort, peace and happiness again.  How I wish that my friend who committed suicide had.  And how thankful I am that Bryan and I are on this life journey together!