I'm a witness.

"Everybody is original if he tells the truth. – about who he really is, and not who he thinks he should be." - Ueland, If You Want To Write

What a tricky concept.  I am battling all the time with who I am and who I want to be. Wait no - the sentence says "who I should be".  What is the difference between want and should?  Its' true that the should definitely fills in bits of the want. Where does should come from?  Desire, hope, expectation, relationships, comparisons, wishing, obligation, duty.  Should is what comes around when I want something in the future that I don't want to work for today.  So I should.  Should comes around when I know someone else's experience will be effected by my efforts, and I care about them - obviously, so I have to kick in should in order to beat selfishness.   Ok - so should may not be as cheerful as want - but it probably maintains the overall health of humanity.  I should go to work.  I should pay my bills.  I should make dinner for the children.

But in matters of truth - in matters of telling the truth - I think should is based on what we've seen or heard from someone else.  We see the success of others and are drawn into the same paths.  It makes sense I suppose, but it's not necessary - especially if you aren't interested in acclaim or money or well-knownness.  Not everyone's originality is going to sell books, make blockbusters or be a social hit. And yet, we want to tell a story that is interesting that is worth the telling.  Cause we want to live a life that's worth living.

We want to make a difference.  Isn't that something?  We want the world to be different because we were here.  I wonder why.  Does it need to be different?  Do we assume that things are out of order enough that we should change the world?  Maybe it's a misguided innate desire in us to want to change ourselves.  Maybe we don't need to change the world - we need to change ourselves.  It probably seems easier to change the world than to change ourselves. Isn't that something?

I'm original if I say who I am, all the pretty and unlovely parts, with all the honesty and the tragic sections, and then illustrate from that starting point, my changing.  I become a witness.  I'm a quiet, glorious, powerful, unique witness.  A witness of perhaps the most human beauty, change.

Happy Mother's Day

Dear David,

Thank you for making me a mom.  I love being your mom!  I love your snuggles and sweet goodnight kisses.  I love watching you play soccer and I hearing you play the violin.  I love driving with you in the car and singing along to the music.  I love that you want to be with me and that you are so great to help around the house - doing the lawn and anything else I ask for your help with.    You are an incredible and loyal friend.  I am inspired by your love for Zach and for anyone else who needs a hand - like Dalynne and Gayle and family support and grandma and teachers at your school.  You take such good care of Douglas and Jessie and Corinne.  You know when they need your affection and especially when your sisters need a gentle reminder that everything is going to be ok.  You have made a significant impact on our family since the day you arrived.  I am a different person because I've had the privilege of being your mother.  Oh, how I love you.  Thank you for being mine.  xoxox
Mom.

Dearest Skibob,

Thank you for making me a mom.  I love being YOUR mom!  :)  I love cheering for you while you are in your 12th hour of homework, I love that you want to go to seminary, I love singing with you and cleaning with you.  I love that you love Jessica so well.  I love watching you be sisters together.  I love that you love a clean house and a clean room and that you pitch in so readily to help the family.  I love watching you keep a goal on the football pitch and hearing you play the flute.  I love seeing you giggle at a text and laugh with your cousins.  I love your squinty nose when you are perplexed or annoyed and I love your determination to be happy. 
You came on to the scene with a willful peace and innate joy 17 years ago.  I know you don't always feel that on the surface, but it's part of who you were before you came here and I'm so grateful that Heaven said you could be ours.  Thanks for coming to play with us and laugh with us and to teach me joy in all things.  Your tears teach us that too.  You aren't afraid to feel. And there is opposition in all things - which means with all the joy, you are willing to feel the sorrow too.  The joy is worth it and you know it.  Oh, how blessed I am to hear you call me your mama.   xoxoxo
I love you,
Mom.

Dear Jessica,

Thanks for making me a mom!  I love it!  I love watching you negotiate life and live with so much determination for good and the pursuit of real wisdom.  I love that you thirst for knowledge and experience - especially within the gospel.  I love that you want those around you to be happy, to feel needed and capable and know that they belong.  I admire both your empathy and your sympathy.  :)  You have powerful gifts with which Heaven is blessing us all.  I love hearing you sing and play the guitar.  In my moments of temporary insanity, please don't let me convince you otherwise.  I love your gorgeously messy room and the fact that it means you can live peacefully in the chaos, that it means you'd rather be with us than hidden away.  I love that you love movies and stories about other people - and that you are feeding the empathy in you.  You have a deep need to know the stories on the planet.  I love hearing you sing at the top of your lungs, I love watching you dance across a stage, I love sitting with you at soccer games and driving with you in the car.  I love cleaning the garage with you and shopping with you and making a meal with you. I love that you came here 19 years ago with a will to LIVE in every moment, to not miss a beat, to see and feel it all.  You love us so well. You are already so willing to forgive me for my humanity.  Thank you for the gift of constant forgiveness.  Thanks for being a better example of what a mom is to me than I could ever be to you.  xoxoox

I love you,
Mom.

Dear Douglas,

Happy Mother's Day!  Thank you for making me a mom!  You were the first, and always will be.  There is something magical about that.  I wonder if the four of you stood in a heavenly circle and did rock-paper-scissors to see who would have to sojourn with us first. You either won or lost.  ha!  From the first day there have been things that have remained the same...  I have loved watching you take in the world.  I love hearing you sing.  I love your passion and excitement for getting on the thrill rides of life.  You want to play and to do it all, to not miss a moment or an opportunity.  I love that you want to be where the action is - with the adults or the big kids or the heavy hitters or the super stars.   You know what people are feeling and you minister to them in kind.  I love watching you with your siblings, with your dad, with your cousins, with your friends.  You are wise and you make me wonder at the beauty of the world and the plan God has to teach us love.   Thank you for teaching me patience, grace, hope, faith and joy.  I wish I was a faster learner - I must also thank you for your forgiveness and understanding.  You are wise beyond your years and you are already willing to forgive this mother of yours for also being a girl, a silly, flighty, irresponsible, emotional and selfish GIRL.  Thank you for coming to save me from my childish ways.  :)

xoxoxo
Mama.

The Rhythm of Consolation

As I think about what to write, it's interesting that in order to stay away from the details of my emotions and personal particulars, I default to offering a commentary about the weather.  What a cliche, right?  It plays out in social collections over and over, in every culture, in every class, in every imagined conglomerate.  And even here where my faceless listeners are generations away, in order to say something about how I feel without revealing the unlovely details of my psyche - I use the weather as an allegory, a symbol, a prop. It works I guess.
Spring is change, it's fickle.  Spring is new and predictable.  The mornings are cold and the afternoons are cheerfully sleepy.  The evenings bring fresh breezes and windy promise.  Spring ages quickly as she learns the colors of hot summer and her gentle green moves daily to fixed brown.  Delicate blossoms drop every minute and their exposed, verdant leaves promise vivid Autumn.
With this constant change before my eyes, I can still dare to be impatient, to speed the moments along.  What is this thanklessness?  This non-recognition?
This morning I pray for a gentle heart, for fresh eyes, for a verdant spirit - unafraid of the change that is born in every morning - completely conscious of the age, the heat, the anchored, the vivid colors that will define the day at close.
Spring comes again.
Morning rises.
The rhythm is consolation.

San Diego Time

                             

                 

                      All the right plants, smells, sand, sun and people.  I heart California.

Something's Comin...

Could be...
Who knows...
........
It's only just out of reach
Down the block, on a beach
Under a tree
I got a feeling there's a miracle due
......
Could it be?
Yes it could
Something's coming
Something good.....
If I can wait

But wait - no more wait.  Want it to be now.  Or at least nowish.  Nowish in the sense that I get to choose?

Poor Tony.  Do you think that song is about the love affair or his impending doom?  I choose Love Affair.  Cause after that, there's nothing else worth living for anyway right?  Once you've loved... you're golden.

But yeah - I want something to come...
Spring.
Energy.
Clarity.
Health.
Smarts.
Charity.
nbd

I know I gotta do something to get something.  But I hope that the gotta do comes because of the feeling like it.  So it's the feeling like it that I feel is the "could it be? yes it could!"

The stars are aligning.  Seven months of saying no, four children home safe and sound, family landmarks around the corner....

Could be... who knows....

April is 5 days away.

Outside Online

It's Lent this week.  I love Lent.  I'm not a Catholic, in fact I'm a Mormon.  But I love Lent and I look forward every year to getting off of Facebook for the 46 days of Lent.  It's not a flippant observance of this holiday - I believe wholeheartedly that when we give up things in our lives, it has the potential to bring us closer to God.  Mormons attempt that all the time - no alcohol, no coffee, no smoking, no playing on Sunday, no sex before marriage... we even fast once a month.  That's like Lent.  So I'm a grateful observer of the tradition.  I'm not on a path of disrespect or blasphemy.  Agreed?  Agreed.
This year as part of my preparation to leave Facebook for a bit (and honestly, every year I'm tempted to make it permanent) I realize that I'm looking for somewhere that feels like outside while I'm online. (Facebook doesn't, but it's a tempting disappointment every time) A really common time for me to log on is in between my 21 morning alarms.  4:45 for prep, 4:55, 5:00 for real, 5:05 and on until 6:30 when it's desperate.  The alarm at 6:30 means not only did I sleep in, but Corinne did as well, missed seminary, and now I'm in jeopardy of being later than the kids who are tardy to my first class.  I can usually avoid hearing all of the 21 alarms if I get on my phone and start reading the semi-interesting babble from my friends on Facebook.  Honestly, I like the babble.  It's amazing how long I can read it.  All the way to 6:30 actually - which is mind blowingly stupid - cause I might as well have been sleeping all that time. BUT here's the justification - I love to go outside first thing in the morning.  (Let's be clear - daylight means morning.  No daylight - still night)  And I think this is the phenomenon I'm trying to achieve without leaving my sheets and the side of my charming, snoring husband. If I can find something that will convince me that it's worth getting up... remember there are people out there... the sun will shine and the mountains will be beautiful and there is fruit to eat and dirt to dig about in - things to do!  And it's not all bad - LIVE WOMAN!  LIVE! 
This is the trick every morning isn't it?  To choose to live.  To shake off the dust from the night's slumber and push the blood through your veins and take deep breaths and live again. 
Maybe that's why we avoid bedtime - its like dying.  Giving up consciousness is a scary thing right?  And we don't control where our minds roam at night.  Sometimes going to scary places, sometimes embarrassing ones...  occasionally to a fantasy so intriguing we want to carry it right into our true breaths. 
What should I do at 4:55 to convince my dreaming mind, thick blood and slow breaths that it's time to live again?  Facebook doesn't really do the trick, it's a charlaton, but it's my addiction - and starting on Wed, I'll have nothing...  Nothing to convince me to live.  I need to find outside online.