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.