Since Mother's Day is fast approaching, I wanted to write a tribute to my wonderful mother. I have not been the best daughter, not always sending the best gift on that day. My mother deserves so much more than I have given her in the past. Maybe this will make up for my negligence, in some small way.
The following are attributes that have had and continue to be a great influence in me, many of which are only becoming more clear to me as I experience more in my life. I am eternally thankful for these, mi madre:
One of my most treasured gifts that my mother nurtured in me is a love of music. Music is such an integral part of my life, I don't know what I would be without it. My mother taught me to play the piano at a young age. She would spend Saturday mornings teaching theory classes which I quite enjoyed. There would always be music floating in the air at our home, whether it was on the classical radio station or someone practicing. My mother liked to sing and I remember feeling great comfort hearing her happy voice. I had the opportunity to learn to play the flute so piano was set aside. My mother selflessly created opportunities for me to take flute lessons for many years and bought a new flute for me that I have ever been grateful for. Playing the flute has always been such a joy. It hasn't always been easy but I am so grateful I have this talent.
A side benefit of playing music is hearing it often. At an early age, I became tuned into music that touches my soul. My most favorite primary song is "My Heavenly Father Loves Me," which somehow, thanks to my mother, I had to sing once in sacrament meeting. I truly savor music that speaks to my soul. Some of my very favorite songs are "This is the Christ," "Savior Redeemer of my Soul," "Be Still my Soul" and "Come thou Fount of Every Blessing" to name just a few. I also love stirring movie soundtracks and classical music such as Barber's "Adagio for strings" and Vaughn Williams' "Variations on a theme by Thomas Talis." My list could go on and on. As a result of music in my childhood, I cannot help but have something playing at my house every day as I clean. I especially cherish songs that bring the Spirit of the Lord into my home, although I admit it is fun to have other lively ones as well.
The next great attribute my mother nurtured in me is the desire to work. I can not thank her enough for teaching me the virtue of hard work. I have not always appreciated it. I did not enjoy cleaning as a child except for those solitary moments when I was assigned the bathroom and I would clean it to a shining glow. I have struggled myself, trying to teach my children cleanliness. There is always a mess at home, except for maybe the few moments before the kids come home after I have finished cleaning all morning. But the difference I feel between doing not much of anything and tackling a messy room is substantial. The sense of accomplishment I feel afterwards is worth the labor. It has taken a long time to temper the disappointment I feel (and I still struggle) when I have to start it all over again in the morning. I know God has a lesson in it all. Maybe the biggest is just learning to serve my children over and over everyday.
This takes me to my next attribute. This one I am still in an infantile state but my mother is such a great example of it that she helps me strive to be better. It is the attribute of service. Everyday of my mother's life that I can remember, she was serving someone. For a long time, it was to an ungrateful bunch of kids. As I have had my own children, I see what an amazing person she continues to become. My mother was far from perfect. She chewed on us every so often but most of the time she did her motherly duties of cleaning, making dinner, laundry, etc. without complaint. I cannot even come near that attitude. Ask my kids. They will tell you that their mom's a grump.
The next attribute, I can only dream of matching her depth, is her faith in Jesus Christ. She believes. She knows. I have always felt her strength and perhaps this is why I have never doubted. As I have seen more of her struggles, that weren't quite so obvious as a child, I have marveled at her absolute belief that God will bless her in whatever way she needs. I know that her strength has influenced my testimony of Christ. A segment of this attribute is commitment. My mother has steadfastly demonstrated commitment to God and in other aspects of her life that has truly been humbling. She has strength, She has courage. In the face of great trial, she has pressed forward into the darkness. My mother truly is an angel.
Thank you, my mother, for being the divine woman that you are, for bringing me into this life and for selflessly serving me all my days. You are truly a woman of God.
A final note I cannot leave out is the fearlessness you showed when getting on Shadow. What a great day that was, sharing my love of horses with you. Your the best, mom.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
My little girl all grown up
A little over 18 years ago, a beautiful baby girl was sent from heaven on wings of angels. When she first entered this world, all she did was blink. And blink and blink. The good doctor decided she needed a little encouragement to stretch her lungs but she didn't comply for long. Her mellow personality has been an integral part of her ever since. It is only broken when she feels an injustice is being perpetrated. Sadly, I am a bumbling fool who more times then not deserves such indignation. Patience. I am still in remedial school for the parents of teenagers. And it's likely I'll be taking the class over and yet again.
As graduation approaches, I am amazed that these wrapping up days have come so soon. Wasn't she two just a little bit ago? I used to sing to her and read stories at bedtime. She was so yummy to snuggle. She loved to play with her dad, climbing on his back to play horsey and wrestle. Usually you could find her playing in the kitchen drawers or poking the kitty. It wasn't too long before she was sharing the limelight with a baby brother. But so many times she was complimented on her beautiful curls and long lashes.
Wasn't she four recently? We learned the alphabet together. We would draw pictures and make crafty things. Making cookies was so fun. She would have little adventures outside in the backyard with her brother, digging in the sandbox and riding her tricycle. When it snowed we tried to make a snowman. Hours were spent playing with dollies. If it was quiet, usually you could find her tying the kitty to the door handle or maybe even her brothers.
Wasn't she six just yesterday? We would go to the park as a family and enjoy picnics. We often played with cousins. Many days she would be playing outside, planting seeds or coloring the sidewalk with chalk. She probably just remembers having to clean her room. I remember sending her to kindergarten on the first day. I was so excited for her. I am sure she was scared but she acted so brave. It wasn't her strong point to be out-going. When she came home, there were tears in my eyes knowing she survived and realizing what a big girl she was. Why couldn't she stay little forever?
My little girl is eight? How is that so? She looked so beautiful and uncannily wise in her white baptismal dress. She has always been so observant about how the world functions. At this tender age she was so thoughtful toward her siblings, watching over them, playing games with them and loving them. Many times I would witness her tenderness. She became an avid reader devouring loads of library books. She had a special friend, Olivia whom shared like interests. Once they grew some pumpkins at the park down the road.
Ten?? She loved to come with me to ride the horses. She has always been a natural. Caring for creatures has help mold her into the compassionate person she is today. She had a goat named Autumn she took great care of. She also enjoyed caring for the kitties, dog and chickens. She would play out in the fields, on the chicken house and carting the kids around on an old pull-cart. She would help me take care of the horses and we would go on rides around the field.
My little girl was now a young woman. At twelve she enjoyed learning new cooking skills. Once she made a baked Alaska for her little sister. It was magnificent! She was spreading her wings and tasting all the possibilities of life. She learned to play the flute which would later take her on adventures to California and even Hawaii. She grew in her talents and abilities while always caring for those around her. She became the big sister to twins. What a life saver she was. But did it dampened her growth? I guess I won't know.
Fourteen?? She helped to care for Ginger's puppies and earned enough money to buy Twix. She did an awesome job taking care of her and training her. During this time she worked on her personal progress and her testimony of the Gospel deepened. She started high school and joined the marching band. She became even busier.
Sweet sixteen and it's time to drive. She passed her driver's ed with flying colors. She began work at KFC. We see less and less of her. She always looked so beautiful for every dance she attended with a young man. Her values are strengthened as she makes deep commits for her future life away from home. She excels in school and increases her flute playing talent. She decides that nursing may be her chosen occupation. How that just fits her!
Eighteen, and finally her bumbling mother gives her a surprise birthday party. It was so great to see the love her friends have for her. We go together to vote early. My how grown my daughter is. More often tears fill my eyes seeing how amazing she has become. How seldom I have told her how proud I am of her, at least in ways she believes me. Now she is contemplating a mission which she has desired over since she was young. How strong she is. Yet how tender as well.
Here I am realizing how little time there is left before she is off on her own. I watched her band concert in which they honor the seniors. Tears again filled my eyes. How grown up she is! Big plans she has for a mission and nursing school. Will she ever realize how proud I am of her. How dearly I have loved this child, though many mistakes I have made. This tribute is to you daughter, lest you ever forget!
As graduation approaches, I am amazed that these wrapping up days have come so soon. Wasn't she two just a little bit ago? I used to sing to her and read stories at bedtime. She was so yummy to snuggle. She loved to play with her dad, climbing on his back to play horsey and wrestle. Usually you could find her playing in the kitchen drawers or poking the kitty. It wasn't too long before she was sharing the limelight with a baby brother. But so many times she was complimented on her beautiful curls and long lashes.
Wasn't she four recently? We learned the alphabet together. We would draw pictures and make crafty things. Making cookies was so fun. She would have little adventures outside in the backyard with her brother, digging in the sandbox and riding her tricycle. When it snowed we tried to make a snowman. Hours were spent playing with dollies. If it was quiet, usually you could find her tying the kitty to the door handle or maybe even her brothers.
Wasn't she six just yesterday? We would go to the park as a family and enjoy picnics. We often played with cousins. Many days she would be playing outside, planting seeds or coloring the sidewalk with chalk. She probably just remembers having to clean her room. I remember sending her to kindergarten on the first day. I was so excited for her. I am sure she was scared but she acted so brave. It wasn't her strong point to be out-going. When she came home, there were tears in my eyes knowing she survived and realizing what a big girl she was. Why couldn't she stay little forever?
My little girl is eight? How is that so? She looked so beautiful and uncannily wise in her white baptismal dress. She has always been so observant about how the world functions. At this tender age she was so thoughtful toward her siblings, watching over them, playing games with them and loving them. Many times I would witness her tenderness. She became an avid reader devouring loads of library books. She had a special friend, Olivia whom shared like interests. Once they grew some pumpkins at the park down the road.
Ten?? She loved to come with me to ride the horses. She has always been a natural. Caring for creatures has help mold her into the compassionate person she is today. She had a goat named Autumn she took great care of. She also enjoyed caring for the kitties, dog and chickens. She would play out in the fields, on the chicken house and carting the kids around on an old pull-cart. She would help me take care of the horses and we would go on rides around the field.
My little girl was now a young woman. At twelve she enjoyed learning new cooking skills. Once she made a baked Alaska for her little sister. It was magnificent! She was spreading her wings and tasting all the possibilities of life. She learned to play the flute which would later take her on adventures to California and even Hawaii. She grew in her talents and abilities while always caring for those around her. She became the big sister to twins. What a life saver she was. But did it dampened her growth? I guess I won't know.
Fourteen?? She helped to care for Ginger's puppies and earned enough money to buy Twix. She did an awesome job taking care of her and training her. During this time she worked on her personal progress and her testimony of the Gospel deepened. She started high school and joined the marching band. She became even busier.
Sweet sixteen and it's time to drive. She passed her driver's ed with flying colors. She began work at KFC. We see less and less of her. She always looked so beautiful for every dance she attended with a young man. Her values are strengthened as she makes deep commits for her future life away from home. She excels in school and increases her flute playing talent. She decides that nursing may be her chosen occupation. How that just fits her!
Eighteen, and finally her bumbling mother gives her a surprise birthday party. It was so great to see the love her friends have for her. We go together to vote early. My how grown my daughter is. More often tears fill my eyes seeing how amazing she has become. How seldom I have told her how proud I am of her, at least in ways she believes me. Now she is contemplating a mission which she has desired over since she was young. How strong she is. Yet how tender as well.
Here I am realizing how little time there is left before she is off on her own. I watched her band concert in which they honor the seniors. Tears again filled my eyes. How grown up she is! Big plans she has for a mission and nursing school. Will she ever realize how proud I am of her. How dearly I have loved this child, though many mistakes I have made. This tribute is to you daughter, lest you ever forget!
Monday, April 15, 2013
Baby-steps
I have been debating whether to sell my six-year old horse, Red. Last year, I burned myself out trying to complete my goal of getting him up into the mountains on trail rides. My body just doesn't seem to have the fortitude it once had and I have had a hard time learning my limitations. My brain wants to do so much more than my body has strength. Lately, I am learning to lean on the Lord for strength, though and perhaps I will be afforded this strength as I continue to work with Red, as I ask for it.
I also have been asking the Lord for guidance in my life, wanting to learn to a greater degree how to receive inspiration, revelation and guidance in my life, especially as I have a desire to serve the Lord. I have been studying the Doctrine & Covenants this year and have found a great complementary resource as I study: Revelations of the Restoration, by Joseph Fielding McConkie. I was in the middle of the commentary about Oliver Cowdrey translating the Golden Plates, sections 7-9, when I had some interesting experiences which I will now relate.
Earlier in the week, I was busily vacuuming my dining room and went over to the tile area by the door to the garage. I was leaning over using the noozle in the tile grout lines when I had a thought come to me that Paul was going to open the door. I quickly brushed away the thought since it seemed like an odd time for Paul to be home and continued to vacuum, shifting my body (I have always had a fear of the door knob being slammed into the side of my head). Not two seconds later, Paul opens the door running into the vacuum! I stared at him in utter amazement. I then quickly told him why I was so shocked and for the next little while, I tried to memorize what that first warning thought felt like.
A few days later, I was solidifying a song "Into the West" that I would be playing at the Ward talent show Saturday night with a friend. She would be playing the harp and I would be on my flute. We practiced together and I felt pretty good about doing it. I also scheduled a block of time to ride my horses at a friend's pasture Saturday around 11am. It seems like it was on Friday morning, that I had a fleeting thought/image of me hurting my arm while riding my horses so that I could not play my flute after all for the talent show. I have had fatalistic thoughts in the past about my welfare so I just brushed it off as my imagination running wild.
I didn't think much more of it but continued with my plans. After I came home from a morning soccer game, I cleaned my kitchen, thinking it would be better to do it earlier then after I ride because of my full schedule (going to the dump and preparing spaghetti all before the 5:30pm Dinner/Talent show). I head out to the pasture to ride with my oldest daughter in tow.
We get to the pasture and we hitch up very quickly. A minor mishap of trailer brakes being locked is quickly remedied with a phone call: unplug the trailer lights. We load up Red and Shadow. They seem eager go on a trip. Romy seems exceptionally frantic being left behind. We get to the pasture five minutes later and unload the horses. Red is pretty nervous to be left in the trailer by himself and quickly wants to fix that "oversight" by spinning around inside the trailer, leaving it shaking. He quivers for a bit while I stand in the apex of the slant-load, wondering if he is going to step back and squish me. We both shakily get out of the trailer.
I decide it would be best if he has a long session in the round pen. He runs for quite a while on his own accord, shaking off the winter cobwebs. After about 20 minutes, I pull him out as him seems more level headed. I tie him up to the trailer and tack him up. I marvel at how much better he is doing then the same time the year previous. I finish getting him equipped and we head out to the arena. I decided I would lounge him a bit inside the arena just to reacquaint him with side reins and the arena ambiance. After going both directions for a couple minutes, praising him for doing so well, I tie him off to the side of his saddle to limber up his neck muscles. While he is doing this, I take my extra equipment over to the side of the arena, getting my helmet in the process. It's time to mount up.
I hop on and ride for about ten minutes, walking, trotting over poles and cantering on direction. He seems fairly unbalanced to the left so I decide I'll try the other direction. Before I do this though, I am feeling winded and hot so I stop and put the reins crossed over his withers in preparation to take my sweatshirt off. Halfway through pulling off my sweatshirt, I realize I am doing a couple really stupid things. First, you never let go off your reins on a young horse, and number two, because I have not sufficiently "sacked out" my horse, taking a sweatshirt off, raising it over the head, would scare any horse into flight instinct. I could feel him with my legs starting to hunch but I had already jumped into the fire. Either I put the sweatshirt back on or finished taking it off. (This is all split-second decision making.)
I decided to take it the rest of the way off. As my head came out of the opening, I could see Red's ears flicking back and him tossing his head a bit. I knew what was coming and reached for the very distant reins. Too late. Two bucks later I was on the ground, face down. I had landed on my hands and then chest. My sweatshirt was halfway across the arena and my horse was loose. My friend caught him and proceeded to give him a lesson while I shifted to my back wondering what was hurt. When my head cleared, I could tell that I had landed pretty hard on my wrist but it didn't hurt yet. Another friend brought me some Advil and some ice for my wrist which she wrapped with an Ace bandage. I sat for a while until I felt like I could walk.
I got back on Red for a bit and then we packed up and went home. My friend helped me a great deal during that process. I went with my husband to get my wrist checked out: no broken bones! But my wrist was in pain so they gave me a brace. I ended up playing my flute that night, though it was difficult, because I didn't want to let my harpist friend down.
I have asked the Lord, what am I to learn from this experience? It seems like the thought I would get hurt wasn't a warning, just a matter of fact statement. Part of me is afraid. This kind of information seems overwhelming. I can understand how Oliver might have been afraid after having the opportunity to translate. But most of all, I want to know how to better communicate with God. How can I use what I have learned to better this desire. I will ponder on this. Perhaps there will be a follow-up post.
I also have been asking the Lord for guidance in my life, wanting to learn to a greater degree how to receive inspiration, revelation and guidance in my life, especially as I have a desire to serve the Lord. I have been studying the Doctrine & Covenants this year and have found a great complementary resource as I study: Revelations of the Restoration, by Joseph Fielding McConkie. I was in the middle of the commentary about Oliver Cowdrey translating the Golden Plates, sections 7-9, when I had some interesting experiences which I will now relate.
Earlier in the week, I was busily vacuuming my dining room and went over to the tile area by the door to the garage. I was leaning over using the noozle in the tile grout lines when I had a thought come to me that Paul was going to open the door. I quickly brushed away the thought since it seemed like an odd time for Paul to be home and continued to vacuum, shifting my body (I have always had a fear of the door knob being slammed into the side of my head). Not two seconds later, Paul opens the door running into the vacuum! I stared at him in utter amazement. I then quickly told him why I was so shocked and for the next little while, I tried to memorize what that first warning thought felt like.
A few days later, I was solidifying a song "Into the West" that I would be playing at the Ward talent show Saturday night with a friend. She would be playing the harp and I would be on my flute. We practiced together and I felt pretty good about doing it. I also scheduled a block of time to ride my horses at a friend's pasture Saturday around 11am. It seems like it was on Friday morning, that I had a fleeting thought/image of me hurting my arm while riding my horses so that I could not play my flute after all for the talent show. I have had fatalistic thoughts in the past about my welfare so I just brushed it off as my imagination running wild.
I didn't think much more of it but continued with my plans. After I came home from a morning soccer game, I cleaned my kitchen, thinking it would be better to do it earlier then after I ride because of my full schedule (going to the dump and preparing spaghetti all before the 5:30pm Dinner/Talent show). I head out to the pasture to ride with my oldest daughter in tow.
We get to the pasture and we hitch up very quickly. A minor mishap of trailer brakes being locked is quickly remedied with a phone call: unplug the trailer lights. We load up Red and Shadow. They seem eager go on a trip. Romy seems exceptionally frantic being left behind. We get to the pasture five minutes later and unload the horses. Red is pretty nervous to be left in the trailer by himself and quickly wants to fix that "oversight" by spinning around inside the trailer, leaving it shaking. He quivers for a bit while I stand in the apex of the slant-load, wondering if he is going to step back and squish me. We both shakily get out of the trailer.
I decide it would be best if he has a long session in the round pen. He runs for quite a while on his own accord, shaking off the winter cobwebs. After about 20 minutes, I pull him out as him seems more level headed. I tie him up to the trailer and tack him up. I marvel at how much better he is doing then the same time the year previous. I finish getting him equipped and we head out to the arena. I decided I would lounge him a bit inside the arena just to reacquaint him with side reins and the arena ambiance. After going both directions for a couple minutes, praising him for doing so well, I tie him off to the side of his saddle to limber up his neck muscles. While he is doing this, I take my extra equipment over to the side of the arena, getting my helmet in the process. It's time to mount up.
I hop on and ride for about ten minutes, walking, trotting over poles and cantering on direction. He seems fairly unbalanced to the left so I decide I'll try the other direction. Before I do this though, I am feeling winded and hot so I stop and put the reins crossed over his withers in preparation to take my sweatshirt off. Halfway through pulling off my sweatshirt, I realize I am doing a couple really stupid things. First, you never let go off your reins on a young horse, and number two, because I have not sufficiently "sacked out" my horse, taking a sweatshirt off, raising it over the head, would scare any horse into flight instinct. I could feel him with my legs starting to hunch but I had already jumped into the fire. Either I put the sweatshirt back on or finished taking it off. (This is all split-second decision making.)
I decided to take it the rest of the way off. As my head came out of the opening, I could see Red's ears flicking back and him tossing his head a bit. I knew what was coming and reached for the very distant reins. Too late. Two bucks later I was on the ground, face down. I had landed on my hands and then chest. My sweatshirt was halfway across the arena and my horse was loose. My friend caught him and proceeded to give him a lesson while I shifted to my back wondering what was hurt. When my head cleared, I could tell that I had landed pretty hard on my wrist but it didn't hurt yet. Another friend brought me some Advil and some ice for my wrist which she wrapped with an Ace bandage. I sat for a while until I felt like I could walk.
I got back on Red for a bit and then we packed up and went home. My friend helped me a great deal during that process. I went with my husband to get my wrist checked out: no broken bones! But my wrist was in pain so they gave me a brace. I ended up playing my flute that night, though it was difficult, because I didn't want to let my harpist friend down.
I have asked the Lord, what am I to learn from this experience? It seems like the thought I would get hurt wasn't a warning, just a matter of fact statement. Part of me is afraid. This kind of information seems overwhelming. I can understand how Oliver might have been afraid after having the opportunity to translate. But most of all, I want to know how to better communicate with God. How can I use what I have learned to better this desire. I will ponder on this. Perhaps there will be a follow-up post.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
The Light from Above
Before we came to earth, our Heavenly Father presented a majestic plan: the Great Plan of Happiness. God would create an earth in which we would dwell. We, His spirit children, were to go to earth, receive a body, and learn all that is needful, to be able to take all the necessary steps to return to our Father and become like Him. Our first parents, Adam and Eve, would pave the way for us to begin mortality. Blessed Eve, though she was deceived by that great serpent, set in motion the propagation of seed. Inevitably, we also, would make mistakes and because of our fallen nature would be unable to return to our Maker. But, because of our Father's great love for us, He also provided a Savior, Jesus Christ, who would atone for our sins, sorrows and heartache. As we utilize this power, by exercising faith, repenting of our sins and being baptized, we are washed clean again, through proper Priesthood authority. We enter at the gate of heaven, to continue forward, partaking of all necessary covenants to qualify for the Lord's presence predicated on our righteousness.
When we came to this earth as a child, we are sent to families of all sorts of circumstances, according to our Father's foreknowledge. We were not left alone. Deep inside all of humanity, at the core of our being, rests a gift from our Eternal Father: the light of Christ. This light is like the brilliant rays of the sun, streaming gently down from heaven, warming our hearts and lighting our minds.
This Light of Christ is our conscience. Each of us has the ability to judge right from wrong as we heed this influence. Moroni states in the Book of Mormon:
“The Spirit of Christ is given to every man, that he may know good from evil; wherefore, I show unto you the way to judge; for every thing which inviteth to do good, and to persuade to believe in Christ, is sent forth by the power and gift of Christ; wherefore ye may know with a perfect knowledge it is of God. . . . And now, my brethren, seeing that ye know the light by which ye may judge, which light is the light of Christ, see that ye do not judge wrongfully; for with that same judgment which ye judge ye shall also be judged”
(Moroni 7:16, 18).
There are times when our soul fleetingly touches an echo of a memory. Earth life seems foreign all of the sudden. Perhaps we feel deep down that we are strangers here. Maybe we groan inside for a deep satisfying love that remains unquenched. We yearn for understanding and enlightenment. Somehow we remember a supernal peace which has yet to be replicated. We are ever searching for these lost memories.
Suddenly from above, a ray of truth pierces your soul.
That was the true Light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world.
John 1:9
This light, the Light of Christ, speaks to our souls, igniting the flickering flame of faith.
As we taste the goodness of this light we begin to desire more. We begin
to remember the forgotten strains of hymns sung long ago as we listen
to truth. We feel the warmth and long for forgotten arms to envelope our
souls in a comforting embrace. We see the miraculous beauties that
surround us, as we traverse each new day, and know they come from the
Masterful Creator. Our soul awakens, as we heed these quiet whisperings
of truth.
There IS something more. This I testify. This truth is contained in the gospel of Jesus Christ for ALL to partake of. His church IS restored in its fullness. We may have the constant companion of the Spirit if we so qualify. We CAN return to our Ever Loving Father. We just need to take the necessary steps. I pray that we have the courage to do so, In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.
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