Lux

Tomorrow is winter solstice and the sun will start to return to the north. This solar event is celebrated across the northern hemisphere and has been celebrated throughout time. I love light. I love sunshine. I love winter solstice. Here's my 2011 celebration of light.

Film in a movie camera moves at 24 frames per second. (proper film - does not apply to digital film) The shutter on the movie projector closes between each frame and causes darkness on the screen. This happens so quickly that our minds don't detect the darkness, we just interpret the change in frames, or the changes in the pictures as continuous motion. The shutter is only open for 1/50 of a second to reveal each picture. The shutter is open 24 times and closed 26 times per second. This means we sit in the dark for more of the movie than we sit in the light. If the movie is 2 hours long, we will watch pictures for 58 minutes and watch darkness for 62 minutes.

In space, molecules of gas and dust grains bump into each other. Eventually, they form a cloud. The cloud starts to spin and it spins faster and faster and at some point the temperature at the center becomes high enough for a star to "turn on". Under the three stars in Orion's belt is a faint greenish haze. This is known as Orion's nebula. A nebula is a baby star. It takes light 15,000 years to reach the earth from the nebula. So the light we see from it now is actually energy that was emitted 15,000 years ago (13,000 B.C.). If you were to travel to the nebula at 65 miles per hour, it would take you 145 trillion years to get there and there would be 33,376,456,000,000,000,000 lines on the road on the way. Even at that distance - Orion comes to play in our planet's winter sky and that greenish haze taunts us. Is it possible that the nebula has grown up and turned on - maybe it's a star by now. But we might not know for another 14,599 years.

It takes 8 minutes for light to travel from the sun to the earth. The sun is in the sky 8 minutes before sunrise and leaves the sky 8 minutes before sunset.

It's hard to imagine that the sun which is 149 million kilometers away from the earth can make the summer so hot. But if you know that it has a temperature of 27 million degrees farenheit at its core, it is a little easier to understand. If you are sitting outside in the sun, you can detect three aspects of the sun's light. Photons light up your surroundings so you can see. Infrared rays warm your skin. Ultraviolet rays brown your skin.

Visible light - rather, light we can see with our eyes - is only part of an array of light made up of wavelengths that our eyes can't detect. Examples of light we can't see are radio waves, infrared waves, ultraviolet waves, X-rays, etc. If the entire spectrum of light was spread across a football field, the light we can see with our eyes would take up less space than a blade of grass. There is a lot we don't know we don't know.

Visible light is made up of particles. The particle for the color red is a different size and shape than the particle for green, or purple, etc. Most of the light particles coming from the sun pass through the earth's atmosphere and are absorbed into the ground. The only particles that don't pass through are the blue ones. The shape of a blue light particle matches the shape of oxygen molecules in the air. The molecules act as a mirror, reflecting the blue particles and scattering them in the sky.

Light travels at a constant speed, which is 300,000 kilometers per second. Einstein figured out that if you were able to travel at that speed, time would occur at a slower rate. Time would be "relative" to your speed. Light is constant. Time varies.

Light is constant. Time varies. No wonder we crave the light.

Happy Solstice.

Deutschland

Things that inspire missing Germany:

Irish. I know. Still.

Lebkuchen and Christmas Markets

The ever intriguing Biscoff. Made known unto the Wadleys this very year, and discovered in America, and yet...

Pete's pics.

And then there is this little ditty. I know - Bulgarian. I didn't say it was logical, I just said it was inspiring.

Malka Moma

I read an interesting article about the adolescent mind this week. We hard wire our brains from birth to age two, and then you get one more chance when you are a teenager. Its very difficult to unlove something you learned to love when you were 15. Proven fact. I'll admit that its not just a missing of the one place and the one time. Its the wondering about other places and other times. Its like coming down the beanstalk and wondering what you would discover if you grew a stalk in the back yard too. Would the top of that stalk be something different but equally wonderful? "The meek shall inherit the earth." I just need to find some more magic beans.

We don't speak English in America

2011 was a return to the mother tongue and I realized just how far I've strayed from dear old mum. In June and July we got to live with Alex and I began wanting to make a list of all of the words that we didn't understand (especially at a particular moment that Al was stood at the fridge). Weren't we all speaking English? No, not really. I suppose they speak English since they're from England and we'll have to suffer with the sad reality that by default we speak American. Generally, American is not as cute, it's not as quirky and it's not as posh as English. And I think they have 8 times more ways to say "idiot" than we do. Then Charly came to stay. And while it wasn't long enough, it proved enough time to actually start a list. And by now we had Alex back and she brought Pete too and so we all could contribute to the list. I'm sure there are many words and phrases we've yet to discover, but the point of the list is not intended to be comprehensive (could it ever be? I guess that would be a dictionary) but it's to remind me of my dear friends and great moments brought to light by translating English to English. OK! English to American. And vice versa.

When driving, Americans use their blinkers and the English use indicators. The hood is the bonnet and the trunk is the boot. You would use your satnav to get directions, not a GPS. Wing instead of fender and you'd park in a car park instead of a parking lot. A lorry is a big truck and a caravan is an RV or a camping trailer. While Americans could drive a stick or a manual, in England you would only drive a manual (and you'd actually need a special license). You'd go faster by pushing on the accelerator, not the gas pedal. (Accelerator, Brake, Clutch - ABC, makes more sense than CBGP) If you need a ride in England, be sure to ask for a lift. Be sure.

Once you satnav your way to your flat, then there are a bunch of other things to translate. You might walk through the yard in America, but you would walk through the garden in England. Charly told me once she was going to go out into the back garden to read and I had to disappoint her by telling her our yard doesn't have a garden. But she was just looking for a piece of grass - that was enough to make it a garden. If you are going to the basement in the dark to check on the air con, you take a torch in England. Take a flashlight in America to check on the AC. To do English dishes you'll use washing up liquid and you'll Hoover the room. Q-tips, Kleenex and Scotch tape is to cotton buds, tissue, and cellotape as Hoover is to vacuum. I suppose its fair. If you want to clean it up very quickly you'll blitz it. Laundry and groceries are American; washing and shopping are English. But you can also do your washing at a launderette (laundry mat). You get water from a tap in England, never a faucet. (Charly has a point - why do we go to the kitchen faucet to get tap water?) Cling film covers left overs. An English baby may need a new nappy or a dummy to make him feel better. We'd change his diaper or give him a pacifier. Or maybe he needs a ride in a push chair, or if he's very little, a pram. We'd take him in a stroller no matter how big he was. Of course you'd take the nappy to the rubbish bin. But rubbish is used as a noun and an adjective in English. "I'm rubbish at tennis." "I'm garbage at tennis" doesn't quite work out does it? Napkin is problematic, but not fatal.

A brolly will be helpful when it's tippin it down. Or rather an umbrella when it's pouring rain. Best to have a plaster in your hand bag just in case. Or have a band aid in your purse. Put invitations to the hen do in the post in England and put invitations to the bachelorette party in the mail in America. And don't throw a shower of any kind in England, they won't know what it's for. But you could have a knee's up if you just want to party and dance with some friends.

Explaining restroom vernacular is common among American and English friends. The only bath rooms in England have baths in them. So you wouldn't ask to go to the bathroom if you really needed to go to the toilet - you need a toilet - not a bath. You could also ask to go to the WC, but maybe most commonly you'd go to the loo. They even call it a porta-loo. Which I'll admit sounds nicer than the porta-potty. Let's clarify - the American folk song "Lou, Lou, Skip to my Lou" refers to a girl, not "loo, loo, skip to the loo." Let's go have tea... (dinner).

How did we get so confused about food? Courgette - Zucchini. Aubergine - Egg plant. Coriander - Cilantro. Cherries and peaches have stones, not pits. A scone is a biscuit and a biscuit is a cookie. They don't have cookies. Buns don't ever refer to your grandma's back side - only to her rolls in the oven. There isn't a distinction in England between jam made from the fruit juice and jam made from the fruit itself. It's all jam, cause jelly is jell-o. Pudding is dessert. Any kind of dessert. (Cookies can be pudding, I mean biscuits.) And cakes could be pudding. So, what's actual pudding? They don't know. Can't sort it out. We do know that angel delight is dream whip. But, that's not pudding is it? Oh yeah - and a Yorkshire pudding - a hollow pastry shell reminiscent of an American scone, but baked not fried. Not like pudding at all, its savory. Oh yes - and then there is savory. I think this is an English word that Americans use lately to sound... not American. Savory is the opposite of sweet. But it includes more than just salty, and it certainly isn't limited to soup or fancy dinner. Something that is sour in America is sharp in England. (Confusing to talk about sharp cheddar - no, not sour cheddar - sharp..... ummm.... aged. Yes - aged cheddar.) Something that is tart is bitter. A fizzy drink is a soda, but sprite is called lemonade, and lemonade is called traditional lemonade. (Why not call sprite sprite and lemonade lemonade? One for America.) And then there is squash. We don't have squash. It's juice from liquid concentrate. And it's yummy. WHY don't we have squash? A lolli is a sucker and sweets are candy. Oh, one of my favorites is eggy bread. Why should they give the french credit for something so delish? They don't. So they call it like it is - eggy bread. The next time you pick up your shopping in England, you'll push a trolley.

In the morning, one must sort out what to wear. Some of these are fantastic. Let's just talk about underwear right off. (Skip this section if you think I am above talking about underwear - let's maintain images here.) Underwear is underwear whether in England or America. So we have that in common. But the English also call underwear - pants or knickers. Quite awkward when visiting America to hear people talking about getting a hole in their pants, or getting their pants dirty or their pants being too tight. I'm assured by Loren that in sports it is more common to call trousers pants - like ski pants or cargo pants. Is this American influence? (Two for us) Within the specifics of underwear comes one of my happiest discoveries - Y fronts. Tighty-whiteys of course. (Charly kept calling them tiny-whiteys on accident, and Richard would have none of that.) One of my favorite English phrases - don't get your knickers in a twist. The American version of that seems quite crass. I'll leave it off. (Alex will want to know why I won't include the American version, but I will include the crass knickers version. American ears - sorry.) So in England you put on pants, and then trousers over them. You'd put on braces if you wanted to hold them up (suspenders) and a jumper if you thought it would be cold out (sweater - which is kind of a gross word if you think about it). Wellies for rain (galoshes), a swimming costume for swimming (as if you've had a change of character as well), trainers for comfort (tennis shoes - what's so special about tennis?, or sneakers - is that because they allow you to walk quietly?), football boots are soccer cleats, your vest is a waist coat, you may have a peak on your hat (brim), and sadly you could get a ladder in your stockings (run in your tights). All of this would be stored in your wardrobe in England and your closet in America. A closet - like a coat closet or a hall closet or a linen closet or a storage closet are all called cupboards. (Charly - closet is American.) Sometimes Charly would come and help me at school. I'd banish her to the little room in the back where she would work on my choral library. She always said she was working in the cupboard. I had a charming image of a little Charly working away amidst the plates and cups, next to the salt shaker and the Biscoff.

Well, (are you tired yet?) to rent is to hire, to sluff is to skive, to sleep in is to have a lie in, to like something is to fancy it and general horse play is legging it around. To pee is to wee (which can also be used for something small, so I guess if you didn't really have to go it would be a wee wee. sorry.)

In case you need to be mean, you could call someone an idiot by saying they were a plonker or a muppet. (I never heard Charly say these things, we learned these from Pete.) If you are crazy someone might call you a nutter in England. And if you are snotty, they'll definitely call you cheeky. A git is worse than a jerk, but not quite as bad as using a swear word. Somewhere in between. A cheeky git is really mean, so watch yourself. If you are feeling happy about something or excited, you are well chuffed. If something goes wrong, it's all gone pear shaped, or you've made a pig's ear out of it. "Pants!" is an exclamation close to "Darn!", which is funny because you are really saying "underwear!" If you have the nibbles you are feeling peckish (every night after rehearsal). If someone is getting on your nerves they are doin' your head in. If you stole something, you pinched it or knicked it. Taking the Mick out of someone is to mock them, often in a subtle way. If you are exhausted, you could be flat out or knackered.

Here are some personal favorites: Ta! or Cheers! (Thanks with a little extra personal connection), Oi! (this can mean all manner of things - wow!, goodness!, oh no!, holy cow!, zowie!). When someone in America asks you, "you alright?" we assume that maybe the person has noticed something isn't alright, or you've just experienced something scary like a roller coaster, or maybe you were crying or out of breath. In England its the same as saying "how are ya?", so you don't need to worry that you are putting out a desperate vibe. It took me a while to learn this. Darren taught me. Charly asks a lot "what you playin' at?" And we really couldn't translate it into American very well. We tried with "who do you think you are?", "what are you trying to pull off?", and "what are you saying Mary, what are you saying?" None of them stand on their own. The English are very polite and would never respond by saying "what?" or "huh?". They would say "pardon me?" or "could you repeat that?". ("Fancy a snog?", "pardon me?") We do have at least one of our own - "in a funk". Oh yeah, and Charly didn't understand me when I said I "snowed" the kids. If you want to compare apples and oranges in England, you would actually compare chalk and cheese. And yes - they are more different than apples and oranges... which are both fruit. And my all time favorite - wanna preach to the choir? Then you'll have to teach grandmas how to suck eggs. Priceless.

To be asked to mime something in England doesn't necessarily mean you should put on white gloves and do the stuck-in-a-small-space routine, it just means you should mouth it. Instead of coming over, you would come round, and an English person will give you a bell when they want to call you up. But they will knock you up when they want to come to your house. Oh boy. Cell phones are American. The English exclusively use mobile phones. A pimple is something you get on your arms when you are cold - like a goose pimple, but a pimple like the spot on your face is just that - a spot. Most of us are already endeared to the term bobby for a police officer. Nothing sounds more American than "cop", well - maybe "pinky". In England it's your little finger and that is all. A geezer isn't an old man, it's a cool guy. That could be confusing. A bloke is a dude and 75 quid is like 75 bucks. (Except you'd have to take into account the exchange rate...) You go on holiday instead of taking a vacation. Bleachers are only called stands. (Why do we call them bleachers?) If you are sick in England then you are ill, and if you puke then you've gotten sick. I don't think the phrase throw up is common either, just based on hearing Charly tell someone she had puked up. She made valiant efforts to communicate. On to happier things - Father Christmas is Santa Claus and of course football is soccer and American football is football. Yes, yes - it's very reasonable. Americans use the word ocean more often than sea and the English use the word sea more often than ocean. I find that a telling tidbit about the two cultures. Oh yeah, tidbit. No tidbits in England. Maybe that's our one quirky word. If you lose a stone, you've lost about 14 pounds. That's a big stone. The alphabet is basically the same except for z. Zee vs. Zed.

At a sleep over the kids might sleep top and tail in order to fit on the bed - head to foot.

A movie in England is a film and you see it at a cinema. Ok, yes - more cultured than "movies". BUT then there are baddys and goodys. Yep. Good guys and bad guys. Those poor bad guys. How could you ever been taken seriously if you were called a baddy? Can you really call Sauron a baddy?

A fancy dress party in England is a costume party. I think Charly lived in constant fear of being invited to a fancy dress party in America and wearing a hobbit costume while everyone else was in ball gowns. I assured her we wouldn't even call that event a fancy dress party. We'd call it prom or something and I would be sure she didn't go to prom in a hobbit costume. A do is an event or party, and you can have a hen do for a bride to be and a stagg do for a groom to be. (Yes, hen - like a chicken.) If you are amused by the names, just ask your favorite English friend what you might do at a hen do or a stagg do. That is even more fun. Especially stagg dos. (is that the plural?) Its similar to a bachelor party, but with some important differences.

In England you go to college when you are 16 or so, and then you go to University. That's it. Don't try to explain any further. It doesn't line up with American schooling. Its a bit wonky.

Most problematic award?

Chips and fries. Crisps and chips. A dear friend once ate the fries off someone's plate because he had ordered chips for everyone. She didn't realize it was the basket of tortilla chips she had been invited to eat - not the fries off of his plate. Problematic.

Charly never had a charlie horse until she came to America. Until then she just had cramps. If it's mingin or mankey its gross. If it's skewiff its crooked, and if its posh, it's fancy or proper.

Nothing is as fun as hearing Alex tell you that something is brilliant. BRILLIANT!

More endearing phrases:

Alex says left, right and center to mean all over the place. And someone got on like a house on fire. (It's not what it sounds like.) Charly calls mosquitoes, "mozzys". Ask her to say kabob and pasta too - strange change in pronunciation. Aluminum and produce are also fun to hear. "Just stood there" - "Just standing there". Who knew the conjugation of that verb was correct? I didn't believe Mrs. Hastings in 9th grade english. Well, - she knew what she was talking about. It's proper English. Proper - correct, ligit, totally, major, real. Proper chips, proper burger, proper tired, proper scared, proper annoyed, proper gown, proper proper proper. sigh. Charly's not fussed. And she's not bothered. And that's why its so soothing to have her in the house.

And... maybe that's the end of my list. Well, technically Pete has listed some Welsh, Irish and Scottish phrases, but I suspect that will earn it's own post someday. We're still working.

Heaven bless my friends across the pond. Charly and I discovered its an ocean. Well, a sea. Whatever.

The bird sings.

When you aren't nauseated anymore it's like you can fly.

When the Duke of Wellington (Napolean's conqueror) reached the end of his life, it was asked of him if he had any regrets. He said that his regret in life was that he didn't give more praise. I know this will also be my regret. It already is. Why isn't it more inherent in me to instill confidence? Especially in my children? And those I love most?

My dad was right: a change is as good as a rest. Now to discover - is a rest as good as a change?

I'm REALLY hoping that the common cultural thought that there will be a video of our lives shown when we get to heaven is a myth. It's not a comforting or entertaining thought.

Interstitial. This is a word.

Be as a bird, perched on a frail branch

that she feels bending beneath her.

still,

She sings away all the same,

Knowing she has wings

(Victor Hugo)

This bird finds joy in the staying because she understands about the going. So beautiful.

(One of Victor Hugo's daughters died when she fell out of a small boat and her heavy skirts pulled her under. Her young husband also died trying to save her.)

I'm sleepy. And I feel emptied. Maybe I'm ready to be filled by good things.

There won't be enough days. There just won't.

No Matter What

I'm home today. Home from work. These days are incredible and they are a blessing and they are a curse. Who wouldn't want to get up early, do some dishes and bills, kiss all of the children on their way out the door, eat Biscoff toast, do 3 loads of laundry before 9:00am and read scriptures for 30 minutes - uninterrupted and without falling asleep? This is the life. Its heavenly. I'm not interested in Oprah; but I would pay a lot of money to stay home every day and keep caught up. I guess that's the point - I don't have a lot of money. I suppose that when I'm 65 and I retire (maybe 70?, 75?) I'll want to be at home as much then as I want to be home now. It certainly won't be lost on me.

You know we really set ourselves up for failure, no - set ourselves up for stress, no - confusion at least; when we assume as 15 year olds that our parents aren't living their lives anymore. And certainly our grandparents were done living years ago. Why is it that a 20 year old thinks that the definition of living is having your whole life in front of you? And that only one generation can be living at a time?

So look at me now... writing a blog entry at 8:58am on a Wednesday morning. Thrilling! The rest of the day will go by with bills, more laundry, an indulgent hour long walk up the mountain, trying to get ready for the first SOTW rehearsal on Saturday, and oh yeah - remember how I'm conducting that big choir Saturday night? Surreal. Truly.

What do you think I would do if I had this kind of time every day? Do you think I'd eventually get caught up? Would my garden get weeded? Mulched? Would I volunteer somewhere? At Tolman? Oh my goodness - I'd volunteer at Tolman. David would love it. Maybe at the hospital? Or at a care center? I hope so. I'd probably teach some voice lessons here or there - oh man, you know what? I'd probably go back to school and work on a Master's degree. What would I get it in? Psychology? Counseling? Administration? Theater? Music Ed? Woa. What a thought. Maybe I'd audition more. Maybe I'd open a dinner theater. Maybe I'd have lunch with Rich. Yes, there would be more lunches out.
Well, no matter - whether I'm here or at school, the leaves are going to turn soon and start to fall. There will be a patchwork of autumn on the mountainside and I'll see it - no matter what. The children will squeeze me when I see them next, and they'll get a kiss. Rich will come home and we'll eat at the table together. It's lovely really. No matter what.

Keeping a journal so I'll remember I lived

Oh there's a lot to say. A lot to remember. A lot to forget. A lot to keep to yourself. A lot to hang on to and a lot to let go of. Sweet moments. Ugly thoughts. Revelation. Pure emotion. Swings, diapers, salad, cereal. Indian, PB, popcorn, apples, did I say cereal? Flying, typing, talking, earning. Headphones, car stereo, ipod. Babies, kids, heartache, victories. Soccer games, concerts, car rides, door slams, dirty floor, laughter. Harmony, kindergarten, colors. Pancakes, lullabyes. Singing, yelling, crying, whispering, kissing, holding, grasping, reaching, wanting, trying, hoping, accepting. Dancing, cleaning, walking, going. Corners, hills. Forgiving. Loving. Sleeping. Yep, that's some of the living. Remember? Remember how I've been living all this time?

Brothers

Douglas and I had a lengthy conversation about his future plans, his senior year, making money for a mission and college and all of that. (wild by the way. surreal.) David was in the next room and must have had an ear out for what we were saying. At one point he came in and said "Douglas, will you promise that you'll email me when you are away at college?" Not long after he went to bed and Douglas went down to say goodnight. David said "Douglas, I know that you have to go on a mission and I know its what God wants, but it'll stink for me."

Pie is mercy.

This is my favorite miracle in 17 Miracles. I cried every time it came around. I was surprised by that, as I became emotionally finished with most of the movie. But not this one. This is the miracle that when a mother couldn't go along the trail any further, she sat on a boulder and cried. She had given birth to twins who had both died earlier in the week and she was done. It's interesting to think that she wasn't physically unable to go forward - but she couldn't do it emotionally. Her husband left her on the boulder and told the children that he would get them to camp and then come back for her. She simply refused to go on. That's so interesting. What did she think was going to happen? What would happen if she sat on that boulder all day and night? There come times in our lives when we can't imagine a single outcome that is in any way ok. Every possibility requires more work and more emotional sacrifice than we think we are able to put forward. And we just stop. But really.... ??? Can we just stop? One of her daughters decided she would not leave her mother alone, so she chose to stay with her. And the miracle begins as this daughter kneels to pray and tells the Lord that she wants to do the right thing, but she can not see the path. Beautiful. Isn't that it? We want to do the right thing, but can't imagine it - can't picture it - can't formulate a plan - we, need, help. This is the moment of sheer desperation. Nothing more than that - out of ideas, out of time, out of hope. Please. As she gets up from her prayer, she sees a pie on the ground. A pie. The Lord left her a pie. On the ground. Comfort food. I am struck every time with the kindness of the Lord. He could have left a pheasant to be caught and cooked. He could have even left a pile of dried meat or a berry bush or a spring of water. But she didn't need these things. They hold no emotional comfort. She needed pie.

He'll abide in those moments of total desperation, when He knows we have met the limit, there will be an offering of love and knowing grace. This is when we see the promise that we won't be tested beyond what we can bear, come to light. This is where it stops. The testing ends, we beg for mercy and it comes. Pie. Pie is Mercy.

Next time I need to sit on a boulder and cry... I can expect pie. I'm sold. I'm convinced. He loves. I know.

To Percolate.

I've spent the summer in Nauvoo and spent the morning reading things online that I've missed over the last few weeks. It's an interesting balancing act,and it is important. It makes the muscles stronger.
I'm grateful that I have more than one restarting point on the calendar each year. Of course there is January 1st - the solar calendar starts over and perhaps more importantly an extended holiday from school finishes and it feels right to evaluate and reset a few things. Then there is the end of the school year and plans are made for a productive and happy summer - which will in theory launch me into a wonderful school year and if I follow those plans precisely I shouldn't have a need to reset on Jan 1st. But I do. Every year. I think I'm ready to just be grateful for restarts and not beat myself over the need of them. I feel one coming on. Home from Nauvoo. More remodeling done there, new thoughts, extra gratitude, older children, no humidity.
Do you know what can be accomplished when there is no humidity? The possibilities are endless.
Here are some indicators of how I might spend my time today:
7 large stacks of laundry in my bedroom, the laundry room and 3 in the hall at the end of the stairs.
4 piles of papers that I tucked away into the deep recesses of the desk before our English friends arrived at the house last night. Yes, to be sure - our home is uncluttered in all the right ways.
3 calls I received already this morning about the impending loss of services if bills aren't paid. Cell, electric and TV. Listed there in order of priority.
126 emails to be returned in my inbox.
A kitchen forsaken of food.
12 extra pounds on my hips after a summer of negligent eating. Negligent. Utterly negligent.
1 text from my mother wondering if I've landed in Utah yet.
Oh yeah - and that building a few blocks away where I earn a living. I can hear the halls gently calling my name. Soon it will be a panicked scream.
1,427,489 weeds that grew since June 20th.

Before I'm off to the tasks at hand, a few things I learned this summer:
In order to change, its helpful to feel loved.
My children have become my most beloved social circle.
It's hard to underestimate our desire to be helpful/important/needed. I'd like to sort those out.
I have a profound wish to study the scriptures more thoroughly.
Although always a respected skill, listening has become my new pursuit. This is something I'd like to apply particularly to prayer.
We don't feel the testimony of others. We feel our own.
Now... to percolate. To allow thoughts, desires, wishes, pursuits and feelings find a physical manifestation and become who I am.
Oh boy........ I feel Jan 1st approaching ever so quickly.

Wednesday June 8

I got up at 3:00am yesterday to travel to the Little Sahara Desert in the middle of Utah to help film a Mormon Message. I was barreling down the freeway and couldn't believe it. And it was fun, and kind of relaxing. Not what I expected really.
I got home at 8:30pm
I helped neighbor with a song for an audition.
I gave David a hug and told him he couldn't ride his bike without a helmet, and he couldn't ride it when it was getting dark.
I returned emails.
I spoke with Darren for a bit.
I went to sleep. Rich brought me medicine in the middle of the night so I would stop coughing.
I got up at 7:30 and returned emails.
I read scriptures and fell asleep trying to read Jesus The Christ.
I typed here.
I will now make crepes and balance the checking account.
I'm supposed to go to Kris's this morning, then later to Provo to sing and see friends in a show.
Alex comes this evening. Can't wait. Charly too. Can't double wait.

Summer. Blessed summer.

Sweet Things

My ancestor Anna Marie Jensen had this experience: Her husband had died, so she traveled alone with her 5 year old daughter (like Elizabeth Panting that I got to portray in 17 Miracles). They were on the plains in October and hurrying before the first snow fell when her daughter got sick. In a journal it says "Finally, she slipped a hot hand into her mother's and whispered, I'm sick Mother; I can not walk any farther." The little girl named Mina rode in the sick wagon for a few days as "Anna Marie trudged along by the wagon where the child lay, it seemed that every revolution of the wheels bore down upon her heart, and at times it seemed that the load was much too hard to bear." Mina died that night. "The next morning a short funeral was held and the child, with one of Anna Maries' patchwork quilts wrapped around her, was laid away. It all happened so suddenly that they were miles away from the grave of her loved one before the mother realized her overwhelming bereavement. Every mile she traveled was taking her farther from the sacred spot which she knew she would never visit again. A man in the company whose faith was growing cold said to her, "There can't be anything in this religion for which we are suffering so much, or God would never have permitted such a thing to happen. It was foolish to have started on such a journey." Anna Marie said "I'm glad that I came. I do not know why I should be called upon to part with my little girl, but I will trust my Savior and carry on to the end, confident in His promise that I shall meet her again." Anna Marie reached the valley and married the captain of the handcart company (!!!), Christian Christiansen. One of their two sons, Ezra Christiansen is my great, great grandfather.

There is a fly in my classroom. You know what that means?

There are leaves on the trees too.

Men's Lacrosse is a brutal sport. One of these days I'd like to choose a group of special students and play with them. And smack them on the head with my lacrosse stick. I will wear shoulder muhpads and a helmet and they will not.

Am I really that person? Am I really fantasizing about the satisfaction of carnage?

This summer from June 1- 5 is the world science festival in NYC and one of the festivities is a seminar on olfaction. Is it wierd that I'd rather go to that than any choral festival that will be held this summer?

This has been a bonkers month. Can you say roller coaster? All sorts of them ... and multiple rides. Emotional, spiritual, meteorological, professional, motherly, ... a myriad of roller coasters so to speak. Some with high drops, some with fast spins, quick jerks, free falls, hanging upside down, throwing up, all of it.

After 15 years of teaching, I am still jaw on the ground surprised at some of the things I hear come out of the mouths of these precious ones.

Mic tape sticks to carpet.

Everyone should get a chance to sing a solo.

Why do I choose a cappella music for my students to learn? Why? Every year. Why?

Biting gnats bite. For real. I will testify. Head, shoulders, knees and toes. Well, more like head, shoulders, chest and back.

Douglas will be 17 on Saturday.

You said almost, almost ago.

That about sums it up right now. Jessicaism. There are a growing number of them. And they are funny and accurate.

This post may have a twitter feel. Not on purpose, but simply because about one phrase is the end of my emotional depth tonight. Why does that happen?

I love driving a stick shift. Love it. LOVE it. I learned on Anita's car Charlie and I am SO grateful to her for being patient with me and sticking it out so to speak. What is it about switching gears? Control. Darn. I'm afraid it might be a control thing with me. Probably. Well, that about ruins it.

Corinne just got out of the shower and is standing in the kitchen wrapped in a towel eating chocolate chip cookies. It's charming.

Why do I love breakfast so much? Why does eating something besides cereal make me feel like I might as well be living in a beach house in California? I love cream cheese french toast, hashbrowns, hot chocolate and fruit salad. If I was on death row, this would be my last meal.

BUT that meal has a lot of calories and I CAN NOT seem to be able to get back on track with my eating. I'm out of control. It's depressing. It may be THE reason I'm writing tonight.

The leaves are starting to grow on the trees. It makes me giddy. The only part about it that makes me sad is that soon we won't be able to see the temple from our window. Too many leaves. But it's worth it. It's like Orion.

Could it really be as simple as the weather? The weather deserves its very own post. Maybe it's very own blog. Could it really be that all I've needed was the spring? Some dirt? Some green? Some sun? That's it? And in the middle of August I'll be tempted to give my right hand for a storm. Something that will abate the constant light. Something gray and moody. Something unpredictable and crazed. But right now... sign me up for a forever of days of 70 and breezy.

I wish I wanted to be a reader.
I wish I wanted to be a yoga girl.
I wish I wanted to be a vegetarian.
I wish I wanted to lose 10 lbs.
I wish I wanted to run a marathon.
I wish I wanted to learn to play the cello.
I wish I wanted to get off facebook forever.
I wish I wanted to have a clean house.
I wish I wanted...............

But I don't.

So.... I'll watch movies, remain curious, enjoy burgers, heft extra weight, walk, sing, log on and sit and think just a little longer.

Goodnight moon. Goodnight red balloon.
~Emily

PS - Next time I'll talk about how freaked out I am about the age of my children and the corresponding age of their parents. Goodness grief. (Jessicaism)

Come and Claim Your Blessings

I just finished reading The Holy Temple by Boyd K. Packer. It was an intellectual and spiritual feast. Truly. I started it a long time ago - more than a year probably, but lately I have been anxious to read it and finish it and tonight I just couldn't put it down - reading the last 4 chapters. I am looking forward to starting it over tomorrow. There is so much that I want to remember. And there are a few things I want to record tonight.
"Come to the temple - come and claim your blessings. It is a sacred work. Of this I give my witness." - Boyd K. Packer
"I have long since learned that there are no special compelling words set aside to be used only by the Brethren in the bearing of testimony. We use the ordinary words. They are often very inadequate to convey the very depth of feelings." - Boyd K. Packer
"I think I am finally beginning to understand." David O. McKay not long before he died.
"I will not say, as do many, that the more I learn the more I am satisfied that I know nothing; for the more I learn the more I discern an eternity of knowledge to improve upon." Brigham Young
"If we so live that our minds are free from worry and our conscience is clear and our feelings are right toward one another, the operation of the Spirit of the Lord upon our spirit is as real as when we pick up the telephone. If we are worried about something and upset in our feelings, the inspiration does not come." Harold B. Lee paraphrasing David O. McKay
"Of course you can not force spiritual things. The Lord said that such things as these come in His own time and in His own way and according to His own will; and if we will live as we should and endeavor to keep His commandments, what ought to happen to us can happen to us." Body K. Packer
"I know of no other work in the Church more conducive to spiritual refinement and communication than temple and genealogical work. In this work our hearts and our minds are turned to those beyond the veil. Such a work helps us to sharpen our spiritual sensitivities." Boyd K. Packer
"The spirit of revelation is in connection with these blessings. A person may profit by noticing the first intimation of the spirit of revelation; for instance, when you feel pure intelligence flowing into you, it may give you sudden strokes of ideas, so that by noticing it, you may find it fulfilled the same day or soon; those things that were presented unto your minds by the Spirit of God, will come to pass, and thus by learning the Spirit of God and understanding it, you may grow into the principle of revelation, until you become perfect in Christ Jesus." Joseph Smith.
I would add my witness. And express my gratitude that these words were read this particular week and after great requests for peace and understanding. Granted.
~Emily~

Resting in the sunshine.

There are times when we finally come to a balance. Balancing is hard. I've done the NY ballet work out the last few days (David loves doing it with me - he comes flying in from somewhere in the house as soon as he hears the dulcet tones) and really all you do with your arms is hold them aloft. You don't jab or punch or lift or stretch - just hold them aloft. Balance. And it is tough. They start shaking and you are certain they have something like hamhocks hanging from them. Nope. It's just hard to stay balanced for a long time. Builds strength.
Is the year balanced if its one way for winter and the other way for summer? Is the day balanced if you are awake for some and sleep for some? Is the diet balanced if there is a little broccoli and one oreo? Is the decade balanced if finally at the end there is some clarity? I say yes.
Douglas said this yesterday - In the end it'll be alright. If it's not alright then it's not the end.
I'm grateful God gave us so long to find balance.
And I think I'm on my way to some long fought balance soon. In moments - in days - in a few weeks. I will rest in the sunshine. I will soon have lady bugs crawling all over me.

Lunch

Jessica: *belch*
David: (disgusted) JESSIE! You are a woman. You do not burp.
Jessica: Sexist.
David: Who said anything about sex? Oh, yeah remember the time I saw mom and dad kissing, well you know... sick. Hey mom, you should have another baby. As long as its a girl.

Knowing child. Funny lunch.

I know + I feel = I am

Therapy.

Some love the flowers because they hold them in their hands. And some love the flowers because they don't. It's the negative print. Both love. I've learned as much about what I love from what I haven't experienced as from what I have.
Music is for that I think. Music is for feeling things that don't belong to us. Music is so we can dance in emotions that won't naturally find us. It speaks and we feel what we haven't experienced.

Falling in love is finding a defining relationship.

We have to qualify the raw information we get from God with a human sieve. That's allowed. And sometimes it's confusing. And that's allowed too.

Some relationships can't be put in human boxes. We should be honored to find some of those in our life's work.

The path to happiness is through the sadness.

I love. Not always well. Not always selflessly. Not always in the right language. Not always enough. I love. I am blessed.