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.