Find Your Power Within

 I love hot air balloons! They inspire me. They are beautiful. They rise above obstacles. They can carry others. They lift.

I've liked them since I was a small girl, but now I feel a reverence when I see them. These beautiful airborne vehicles have become a symbol of faith for me.

It was during a time of great difficulty and sorrow. My heart was breaking, mourning the death of my children. I was angry, anxious, depressed, hopeless. One day I saw a small air balloon wind chime in a store. I was impressed that it seemed to be going up, up, up. I thought, I want to be like that. All that day, I pondered about balloons. I even did research. It helped me to raise my thoughts to Christ. I could rise above my grief. With His help, I could see further. Here is the story.

I had been reading my Book of Mormon daily. One day, I came across a passage that I had read many times before. That day, I found what I needed. Nephi's family was travelling in the wilderness. He had a good attitude and his brothers did not. (See 1 Nephi 17:1-6.) We all know this story. In our heads, that is. That day, the Holy Ghost carried it to my heart with convincing power. I learned---in my heart---that I could be happy. I could rejoice in my wilderness, and I didn't have to wait for the Promised Land. I could be joyful outside of any circumstance. Poverty. Frustration. Death of loved ones. Feelings of betrayal. Seemingly never-ending, crazy-hard work. Not getting what I wanted. Not receiving the blessings I had looked for.

 I was learning that my happiness didn't depend on anything happening or not happening in my life.  Jesus Christ loved me-----had atoned for me.
ME!
 And nothing could take that away. I could be happy for Him. Because of Him. Nothing needed to change. And when I learned that I COULD be happy, something changed inside of me. I WAS.  

 And then a crazy thing happened. I stopped fighting the trials. I accepted them, was reconciled to them. I was even grateful for them. I felt stronger because of them. Many times I found Jesus Christ carrying my burdens, and sometimes carrying me. It wasn't quick or easy, but I learned that Patience can ONLY be learned though longsuffering. Patience is learned the hard way, or not at all. 

I didn't ask for the trials I've received and I'm not asking for any now. But they will come, I know. When they do, I want to rise.

I've been thinking a great deal about the balloon. It can be a type for each of us.

Consider for a moment. What makes the balloon rise?

It's the fire---the light----the power that they carry within themselves. 

Their light will shine whether they are up or down. But they were meant to go up.

Our light is our testimony of Christ. It may be small but even the largest flame began with a tiny spark. They can and will become great as we feed and nurture them.

The light requires attention and care or it will go out. Balloonists avoid going too long without stopping to replenish their fuel. We also must take care and replenish our light, through prayer, study and regular church attendance.

Like the hot air balloon, we can't rise when we're tethered to the ground. We have to let go of the things that hold us back. We have to not fight our power source. 

We carry burdens, some helpful and some not. Balloons only carry necessary burdens. The basket is heavy but it provides balance. Without it, the balloon would fly out of control. However, if the basket is filled beyond its capacity, it will never rise.

Some burdens, such as sand bags, are carried only for a time. Their adjustable weight helps offset the variable heat within the envelope (the big balloony part.) They are released when the balloon begins to sink or when they become unnecessary. We also can take on or release projects, depending on our strength. The condition of our light tells us when to let go. We choose what to let go of. (Hint: It shouldn't be the light.)

 Where can we find light?

  Jesus said,
"Hold up your light that it may shine unto the world. Behold I am the light which ye shall hold up---that which ye have seen me do. Behold ye see that I have prayed unto the Father, an ye all have witnessed." (See 3 Nephi 18:24.)

The answer to every question, is to do what Jesus Christ would do. He is our power. We can find Him in the scriptures, in prayer, in listening to the still, small voice. When we truly find Him, we will want to let Him in. He fills us when we are empty. He can raise us up, and we can raise others. He is our power within.

It Was A Lovely Party. And Then I Saw The Pictures

This was my bridal shower.

 I'd taken my bridal photos that day and thought I would look cute. Ha! I make wretched faces in all the pics but wait 'til you see everybody else's.

It started with a nice speech.

Then it got nerdy.

The toasting fork is nice. 

 And this gift is even "cooler".

 But this one gives me warm fuzzies.

 Dorky face.

This one is the best. These two women are watching me unwrap some intimates. Guess which one is my future mother-in-law.



(I totally love my mother-in-law. And I LOVE this picture!)

 Cleanup was fun.

I've been laughing at these for 8.5 years. Now you can too.

My Husband Gave Me An Hour-Long Massage Because I Wrote This

I love to talk about my husband. But I'm not going to brag about what kind of wife I am.  You'll never know whether I give good back rubs, cook his favorite dish or wear a swimsuit for the haircuts I may or may not give him. 

This letter is all you're getting. (I hope it makes you cry. I always like an emotional response.)

Dear Velcro, (Because I'm stuck on him.)

 I love you! Always know that. Everywhere you go, I love you. I am thinking of you. Eight years doesn’t seem like such a long time after all. I want more. So many more.

Thank you for being sweet and supportive. For working so hard. 

For dancing with me by candlelight. For helping me choose my clothes in the morning. 

For helping me shop. For letting me spend our money, knowing that you won’t get mad, even if I blow the budget.

Thank you for playing with our sons. Nothing warms my heart more. I look at you in those moments and think, “This is what a good father is.” 

I never had a father. Thank you for teaching me what they look like.

Thank you for cooking every single day. I know it gets old. I love you for it.

Thank you for being so patient with me, with the boys, with God and with yourself.

Thank you for trying to change for the better. I love who you are. I love that you want growth.

I love that you think I’m beautiful right when I wake up. I love how sometimes you suddenly stop and look at me and forget to listen as I’m speaking.

I love that you read to me and let me read to you.

I love that you let me sing to you. I love that you like it. 

I love when you write me notes. 

I love when you play your bells just for me. 

I love that you laugh at all my jokes.  I love that you send me flowers. I love that you open my door. I love your kiss on my hand.

I love that you help with the cleaning and laundry.

 I love that you remind me to work on my goals. I love that you work on yours.

I love that you taught me how to cross stitch, carve pumpkins, fish, make bread and shave a man.

I couldn’t ask for a better friend but I get a new one every day. It’s always you. Please let me love you forever and ever.

Your Lover

Our trials make me love him all the more, because I see him not giving up on me. Here's to forever.

Dealing with Depression: A Letter to My Mother-In-Law

Dear Mom,

Remember the day we went together to get my engagement ring sized? You were explaining to me how gratitude helped you and how important it is to stay positive. I remember we sang out our thankfulness for traffic lights, family members and pretty trees as we drove through the snowy streets.

When you looked at me that day, could you have imagined what the  next nine years would bring?

Did you see me lying on the floor at two in the morning, singing "I Am Glad for Many Things" trying not to go insane? And that first Christmas Day,  you confided your feelings of having no purpose after your children left home. Did you see me struggling with my identity when my babies died?

Did you know how angry I would be at God? Could you hear my screaming?

When you surrounded yourself with beautiful and cheerful things, did you know how I would stare at  sunsets and flowers? When you put humorous and uplifting messages in every room, did you know that I would do it too? Did you know how much I would need laughter?

All the times you invited me on your daily walk, did you know how important exercise would be to my survival?

All the times that you spoke openly about your struggle, did you know how I would need the support of others? Did you know you were freeing me from self-judgement?

When you made your own joy, when you forgave those who hurt you, did you know I was watching?

When you suffered so much, fighting your way out of a dark hole filled with fog and terror, did you know you were teaching me how?

Now you do.

You may wonder why you had to go through it all.

Remember the first time I pranked you at Christmas and invaded your Christmas village with green army men and tanks? Remember the dummy I built and put on your couch? All those times that I tried to make you laugh, all the times I dressed in funny clothes--all the visits and the talks we had---I thought I was helping you. I never realized how much you were helping me.

Thank you.

Your experience had at least one purpose. I have to believe that mine does too.

How to Make Miscarriage Suck LESS

I have had five  miscarriages. I've been pregnant seven times so that means I have a 71.4% failure rate. It sucks--It really does. And the more you have, the worse it sucks. (See my post.) There are times, especially in the first few weeks after a miscarriage, where nothing will help, at all, even a little bit, and you just have to endure, and pray, and get through one day at a time. However, while there may not be anything to make it better, there are a whole lot of things to make it worse and you can AVOID these. If it's too late to avoid the first two, you can still try the rest. Here's what you do.

1. Don't Tell Anyone You're Pregnant.

OK, you should tell your spouse and your doctor. Otherwise, Nobody. Not your mom, not your boss unless you absolutely have to. If you don't tell anyone you're pregnant you'll never have to tell them you miscarried. This way, you don't have to talk about your loss to anybody you don't want--and you can avoid hearing dumb questions over and over. Once you feel strong enough, you can tell select people that you've miscarried, and they can give you support.

2. Have Health Insurance

It really helps if you don't have to worry about medical expenses and it may even cover therapy, which I recommend.

3. Take A Break

You need a week or two off for grieving, to say nothing of physical healing. Work can wait. Get a letter from your doctor to make it official, then stay home and sleep in. You'll be crying, dizzy, unable to think straight, having no motivation and little physical strength, with occasional seething rage. (And the possibility of a bleeding mess.) Trust me. A sane boss doesn't want you there. Take your rest and do some things that you want. Continue for as long as it's helpful. See # 7.

4. Avoid the Person, Place or Activity That Is Most Painful

Pick one or two things that bother you most and feel free to skip them. Refuse to feel bad about it. My personal choice is baby showers. I avoid baby showers like bubonic plague and conjunctivitis. I also minimize my contact with chatty pregnant women. (You can probably think of a few. They don't mean any harm but they can't stop discussing pregnancy and it's seriously annoying.) There is no reason to exacerbate your difficult situation by forcing burdens on yourself. Once you feel ready, you can pick up where you left off.

5. Get Enough Sleep

Really. In the first few days, it may be the only relief you get emotionally. Don't stay up late. Sleep deprivation causes every kind of mischief. Plus, the physical and emotional stress you're experiencing places increased demands on your body. You'll need extra rest, perhaps for a long while. Give yourself a break and go to bed as soon as you want. Take naps. Sleep in sometimes, perhaps often. If anxiety or depression keeps you awake, sleep with lights on, have a good cry, do yoga before bed, turn on soft music or read a low-stress, spiritually uplifting book. Ask your doctor about sleep aids, natural and otherwise.

6. Keep Taking Those Vitamins

It may be hard for you to do anything for you, and it may seem pointless when there is no longer a baby to benefit from your self-care. Do it anyway. With or without a baby, your body now has to heal and transform itself to a non-pregnant state. It's almost as much work as growing a baby. You don't want to become deficient in vitamins and minerals--that makes everything worse. Keep taking them regularly. If you can't make yourself do it, ask a friend to remind you and make you accountable.

7. Make Yourself Get Out And Do Stuff

When you wake up in the morning and your body says "Get up" and you mind says, "What for?" that's normal. You do need to get up though. After your initial rest, staying in too much will not only lose it's usefulness but actually cause more depression and anxiety. It's time to get back in the world. You may hate everything you used to love and think nothing sounds fun, but chances are, it will end up being more fun than you thought. And it will help you, little by little, to get out of the rut. For me, having a (flexible, non-demanding) job was the best thing. It forced me to get dressed, to comb my hair and to focus on something other than my misery for a few hours.

8. Exercise!

Relieve stress and occupy your thoughts with something you CAN control. Exercise does it all. I have had great results from hiking every week. Think about it. You've climbed a mountain! You've accomplished something difficult. You're getting fresh air, sunshine, exercise and a change of scene all in one. You'll have positive memories to look back on. And, if you're feeling fat or slobbish, a workout helps with that too.

9. Try Not to Think Too Much

Make time for physical activities. Thoughts and feelings are important, but don't make negative thoughts the center of your life. Get things done. Work with your hands. Try something new. Don't get caught in the guilt-building nightmare of "I should have," "I wish" or "If only." Instead try, "This is the situation. This is how I feel about it." Allow your feelings. Process them when it helps and distract yourself when it doesn't.

10. Don't Go Back

You'll need time to grieve and cry. Give yourself this time. It's a process that may take years. However, once you've got past the most painful time, (probably several months,) don't keep going back. Dwelling on the pain long-term will not help you. Instead, try to focus on the positive as much as you can.

Things will get better. There is always hope.

There is one more thing that really helped me. I tried to think of what purpose God might have for me and why I kept having miscarriages.

I found one; so personal, so wonderful. And I received a special witness that my children are real, mine, and they love me. My Leif, Jenna, Alice, William and David. I do have seven children after all. And despite all naysayers and advice to the contrary, I do not believe that I'm done. God has a purpose and I will not fight it anymore. His way is always the best way.

I believe He really will wipe away all our tears. "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning"-Psalm 30:5

Six Questions People With Big Families Wish You Would Stop Asking

I have a big family. My sister has a big family. (Everybody in my family has a big family.) Guess what. We like it. Stop assuming that we don't and stop assuming that our parents were crazy. They were, but you can't just assume that everybody who wants kids is crazy. Chances are, they were perfectly sane until they became parents. And some people actually like their kids. Really. So quit all the shocked stares and sorrowful shaking of the head. And never, ever ask these cliche questions again.

1. So, You're Done, Right?

Are you done asking me about my romantic life and use of contraception? What are you, my doctor? Make like my mom's third baby and butt out.

2. Are You Crazy?

Probably. But maybe it's you. My siblings are hilarious. My children are hilarious. I happen to love to laugh so it's natural to want to fill up a room with highly entertaining people. If you don't want to, you might be crazy.

3. You Have Eleven Siblings? Did Your Parents Ever Do Anything Else?

After I get done cringing at your vulgarity, you should understand that under the right conditions, trying for babies once a year for twelve years can produce twelve children. I'm not saying that's what they did because, oh my! It's none of my business! And none of yours.

4. You Have Two Babies And You're Pregnant Again? Don't You Know What Causes That?

Um, no. Won't you please explain it to me? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I was there but it's just a bit fuzzy, ya know?  Hmmm. Interesting. Well, now that I know, I'll definitely make different choices, and all because you took a moment to ask impertinent questions. Thank you so much.

5. Was It Planned?

As a matter of fact, I want kids. Having kids close together so they can have a playmate? Totally on purpose. You know what wasn't planned? Having this conversation with you. I tried really hard to prevent it but, you know. Accidents will happen. If only there was a pill or something.

6. Don't You Care About Overpopulating the World?

No. Your reluctance to reproduce is more than adequate.

In all seriousness, the births in most developed countries are below the replacement rate. More people are growing old and dying than are being born, which is a real problem economically and strategically. Somebody has got to have children and teach them to be responsible, ethical citizens. You're welcome.

BONUS QUESTION

7. Don't You Need A Better Financial Situation Before Trying for Kids?

Don't you need to get the facts before you speak? By the way, I'm not going to tell you the facts. (They're none of your business.) So don't speak.

Questions You Should Ask

Can I get you some water?

Yes, thank you.

Would you like to sit down?

Sure thing.

When can we do a play date?

Friday at 2 pm.

Wanna hang out and watch a movie?

Yes! What movie?

Is there anything I can help you with?

I think I'm okay right now. Thanks for asking.

Are you excited?

I can't wait to hold him.

Are you just amazing?

Awww. Mostly, I think kids are amazing.

Are your parents strong and courageous?

They must be. They put up with me.

Are you ready for this?

Bring it on.

Are you having kids just to pass on your stunning good looks?

How did you know?

If you have five kids, you have a basketball team. Have a few more and you've got a full dugout. Whether you're into sports or want your own personal choir and stand-up comedy club, a big family will never leave you bored. (And they may never leave at all.)

In my family, two's company and three's a party. We smile, we laugh and joke. We say, "Do you remember?"  And we do remember. And we fall off our chairs sometimes. When I get together with my million best friends who I've known my whole life, I feel a closeness, a security that can't be replicated anywhere else. We have our fights, our disagreements and our times of sorrow, but this feeling of safety, of belonging is what keeps me coming back.

Sometimes people ask me if I would go back and change anything about my childhood. The answer is yes. I would change a lot of things. But not my siblings. I'm keeping them forever.

Treating People Like Babies--Yes We Should!

Everyone has some cause to be jealous of small children. They're cute when they're angry, beautiful when they're fat, their clumsiness is adorable, and when they're grumpy they get a nap. Where do I sign up?

There are other perks babies get that I think we should extend to everyone. (Not the diapering and feeding, necessarily.)

1. Sad Babies Get Hugs

When we're sad, we don't want to be told that there's no reason to feel the way we do. We don't want to be brushed off. Instead, adopt a childcare strategy and HOLD/HUG and don't let go until we feel better. Pity may not be a party but we'll cry if we want to.

2. Babies Are Praised for Every Achievement

"Oh, look! Baby wiggled her toes! So sweet." Call me crazy, but I don't much care if an adult wiggles his/her toes.

Unless they couldn't before. It's the adversity, the challenge that makes achievement noteworthy and I think everyone deserves some praise. I'm sure everyone wants it.We all need to celebrate our little victories and we don't mind if a friend celebrates with us. Let's hear some more, "Evelyn made bread and it turned out really well" and "Jack really wanted to sock Fred in the nose and he didn't do it. Way to go, Bro!"

3. Babies Are Endlessly Forgiven

Probably nobody would speak to me if I routinely (or even once) woke them up at night or threw food on the wall. Or dumped all the silverware on the floor, or finger painted with poo. (FYI, I have not desire to do this. Some of you may be unsubscribing right now just because I mentioned it.)

Forgiveness doesn't mean putting yourself in harm's way or admitting that someone else is right when they're not. Rather, it means not dwelling on the negative, and trying to look for the good in others.

Fact is, babies regularly do really rude things that they don't know will bother you. When they're hungry or don't feel well, they don't care what bothers you. (Even if they've learned that you have feelings.) And they get forgiveness without even asking, because you love them and give them the benefit of the doubt. You kinda have to since unfriending them isn't an option.

What about grownups? Can we give them the benefit of the doubt? "Did she KNOW saying that would hurt your feelings?" "Did he MEAN to tick you off when he walked in without removing his shoes?" Or you might say, "Yeah, she was witchy, but she's got post-partum depression so I'll give her a break. I need forgiveness too." Friends, it should be this way. Unfriending everyone isn't an option.

4. Toddlers Say the WORST Things and People Think It's Funny

My baby on the phone.

 I work in a daycare and find my charges very entertaining. They say the funniest things! Even when their statements are AWFUL, I rather enjoy it because I view them with a certain tolerance. They aren't meaning to be hurtful, they just have no filter.

Sometimes, adults have no filter. Whether it's a slip of the tongue or lack of sleep, it happens to the best of us. Can we laugh it off, or do we make them "an offender for a word?"

Let's enjoy it. They are probably not dumb, rude, socially backward, dirty minded or evil. They only lost their filter for a moment and when it comes back, you get to laugh really hard with them, as their face turns red as a beet. And then you get to forget all about it.

5. Babies Are Accepted--Just the Way They Are

Nobody says, "My baby is such a nerd" or "Wow, I hope he's not going to wear his hair like that." They're beautiful and perfect just for being themselves. And so is everybody. Different strengths and weaknesses are what make our world amazing. Or, as my adorable seven-year-old says, "If everyone were the same, I wouldn't know who was Joe."

Denny in a bee costume and his uncle's hat.

6. Babies Get Babied

When we're sick or having a hard day, who takes care of us? Mostly, no one. And that's okay. But sometimes, we need a little more TLC.  I'm a mom and I take care of everyone, but nobody takes care of the mom. It can get rough. That's why we should kick our relationships up a notch and care for our friends sometimes.

I'll never forget the time I was in college and working, having a rough time. I was living away from home and trying to be grown up. One Sunday before finals, I was exhausted and had just about had it. I felt like I couldn't go home and face all my responsibilities that day. I asked my friend if I could go home with her and she eagerly agreed. Her brother drove us from the church and into a kind of paradise.

Their home was a peace-filled, love-infused domicile of Christmas Spirit. The mom smiled sweetly, spoke gently and fed me dinner. I helped them decorate their trees and afterward I snuggled up on the couch under a hand-crocheted afghan while the dad told us all a bedtime story. We were all adults but we loved it. And I--- I got to be part of a real family for a little while. I was important. I was included. I was going to be okay.

Riding the North Pole Express

When The brother drove me to my home that evening, I felt lighter and stronger, and I faced my trials with courage.

Even today, almost nine years later, this kind family are dear to me. They have become my family.

Sometimes, my mother-in-law voices her regret that maybe she was too pushy with regard to her eldest son's marriage, that maybe she hurried us into it. As a matter of fact, she did, but not in the way she supposes.

I might never have fallen in love with her son if...

If they hadn't all been so wonderful. My only regret is that I couldn't love them all sooner.

(I just asked hubby if he had any regrets and he said no. "I love you and I love our boys. You're still so good for me." I guess he doesn't feel pushed or hurried.)

Bestowing this kind of tenderness on people can have drastic consequences:

They just might love you forever.

Mommy, We Are Worms

One day, my boys climbed into my bed for a cuddle, and then started telling me about worms.

"They eat dirt, Mommy," said my youngest, "and they poop it too."

"Yeah, and they're good for gardens," his brother added.

And then we were all pretending to be worms, burrowing under the comforter and squirming away whenever we thought ants were nearby. We hid from the sun and climbed out when it rained.

"Mommy, you are a mommy worm and I'm a baby worm."
"No," I said, "I'm an ant."
"And I was your baby."

Later on, they changed into ants and role-played predator and prey actions. We had a conversation that went like this.

Batman: Mommy, are you my friend?
Me: I'm an ant, so I might have to eat you.
Batman: I was a worm and I was your friend.
Me: I eat worms.
Batman: But I was your friend. Mommy, if you eat your friends, then you wouldn't have a friend anymore.

I'm amazed at his wisdom. I immediately became a worm again.

After a time, my husband came home. I said, "Honey, you'll never guess what game we're playing right now."

Little voices respond, "We are worms!"