God sent me a duck

Ok - so here is the deal... the devil is real.  He has power and influence over me.  When I am just riding along, minding my own business, he usually leaves me alone but when I attempt to make a correction in my slightly off course path, he comes out of the woodwork and wreaks havoc in my head and my family and my life and my self worth.  Even though I recognize him in all of his evilness, the power he has over me is no less effective because of the recognition.  But God in all his mercy and wisdom never leaves us alone and shows us His goodness if we ask and seek and look.  So here is my latest evidence of this.

I had made some big changes, for me and my family.  They were hard and would require a lot of resolve, patience and determination to carry out.  All the arrangements were made and thats when the gates of hell opened to stop my progress.  I had the most overwhelming day.  Everything was awful.  The thoughts in my head were, "No one wants your help.  Stop trying.  Give up."  when that didn't work, they began, "You really have no friends.  Check your texts.  No one has texted you in days.  That's because they don't care about you.  You are always the one who is inviting, never the one being invited.  What must they think of you that the only time you do anything with anyone is when you organize it?" and it went on and on... messages similar to those came one after another and everything in my life was proving the voices right.  It was bombarding me.   I could mentally see what was happening but it began to get to me.  Then the evil one got my family in on it too... and everything they did pointed to my insignificance.  To my lack of importance.  To my aloneness.  No amount of understanding was changing the way I FELT.  I knew what was happening yet the feelings were overwhelming me.

I went to bed that night with all of this swirling in my brain.  I was full on under attack.  I couldn't stop the voices in my head.  They were screaming at me.  Trying to destroy me.  I cried myself to sleep feeling utterly alone.  I woke the next morning at 4 AM and the thoughts in my head began again.  They wouldn't stop and to add insult to injury, now I couldn't sleep either.  My head wouldn't shut up and I felt weighed down by the burden of my thoughts.  I got up and got dressed and left the house.  Sure no one would care or notice.  I got in the car and drove to the Riparian Preserve and sat on a bench in the dark.  Just me and my miserable thoughts.

In the dark before the sun rose, I could hear dozens of geese honking and making a ruckus.  They would all make a bunch of noise then take off together as a group.  A few minutes later, another group of birds would repeat the process.  Lots of noise (I guess to rally the group) then they would take off.  There were groups of birds everywhere repeating this scene.  Of course there were... someone was inviting all of them to take off but not me.  I was alone.  Sad and alone.

I sat there for an hour in the dark.  Crying and feeling sorry for myself.  No one was around till the sun began to rise and a group of 3 ladies came past me walking and chatting.  They didn't say anything to me.  In fact, they acted like I wasn't there.  Completely invisible.  Just like I felt...  My misery was unbearable and I cried.  Where were my friends?  Where was someone to call me?  Invite me?  Care about me?  My pity party was monumental.

I prayed that God would send me a sign that these voices that were working so hard to destroy my self esteem were wrong.  That I wasn't really alone.  That I mattered.  I cried that I didn't want to be alone.  That I needed some help.

Then I looked up and from across the lake I saw a single duck leave the group and swim the length of the lake over to me.  It took a while but slowly the duck made it to me.  The level of the water is a foot or two below the sidewalk where I sat so when the duck got to where I was sitting, I couldn't see it and it couldn't see me.  I could just see the top of its head as it swam back and forth in front of me.  Finally, it flew out of the water and up to the sidewalk in front of me.  It looked at me, took a few steps toward me and looked at me again and moved closer again till it was right in front of me - a foot or so away.  There we sat - just me and a duck.  Looking at each other.  That duck sat there with me for 20 minutes.  Just looking at me.  Seeing me.  Groups of birds honked and quacked and took off and flew away but not that duck.  The sun rose and the sky lit up but the duck stood right there watching me.  Who can be sad having a staring contest with a duck?  Really...?

So... some may say it was just a duck... I know that God's love comes in many shapes and sizes but for me, it came in the shape of a duck that day.  That wasn't really what I had wanted, but with the resources at hand, what was I expecting?  All I know is that thru a duck,  I felt His love.  I felt that in this whole big world of sadness and hurt, God saw me and my burden  and sent me a duck to comfort me.  It worked.  After 20 minutes, the duck silently turned around and hopped back in the water and swam to the other side of the lake again and disappeared into the reeds.

I went home comforted.  The grip the devil had on me had loosened.  I lifted my head up, went on with being who I am and doing what I am meant to do.   I felt seen, of worth, important.  I felt God's love for me.

If a duck could make such a difference in my struggle, how much difference could a real person make to one who is fighting demons that are real and powerful - bent set on demoralizing them when they have something important to do?

I guess the moral of my story is:  Be someone's duck.  You don't have to say a word.  Sometimes just seeing another person and being there is enough.

Value and Worth

A few weeks ago, we went to Lake Powell with some great friends.  We were there over the weekend so, on Sunday we boated into the marina and drove to church in Page.

I love to go to church no matter where I am but the reality of getting there always requires a  tremendous amount of effort.  It's painful...  Often the pushback I get from my family makes my goal of getting there seem like it isn't worth it...  But once I get there, it always is.

This day was like every other.  No one wanted to go.  Those who weren't actively protesting were passively protesting.  Life was painful.  Eventually we made it to the chapel in Page and settled in.   It was fast Sunday and after the Sacrament was passed there was sharing of testimonies.  It was a great meeting and I was particularly touched by one of the testimonies.

Another visitor stood and shared this story.

She had gone to the Louve (one of my favorite places) and she had gone on a tour with the docent.  The guide told them at the beginning of the tour that there are over 40,000 items on display at the museum and thousands more in storage waiting to be rotated in.  He commented that after seeing about 300-400 items (only about 1% of the museum's collection), people usually begin to wonder why certain items are there.   He said that the Louve is the MOST important museum in the world and if an item is on display there, it is because it is very important.  It has historical significance and is very valuable.  Then they began their tour.

After they had been touring for an hour or two, right on cue, a lady in her group began to be tired,  irritated, critical, and judgmental.   She saw something she just didn't think had importance that was significant enough to warrant a place in the Louve.   What's the point?  To her it seemed silly and unimportant.  She finally spoke up and said, "Why is this even here?!?  I just don't get it..."  The group paused and turned to the docent to hear his response.  He responded by saying, "Yah, but don't you wish you could?".

The woman's understanding or comprehension of the item's worth or significance didn't change it's value.  What a lesson to learn.   How many of us don't understand?  Don't get it?  Discount things of value because we don't understand?  We can't see so we don't value...  We don't get the signifigance so we don't see the worth...  We don't understand the context or history so it must be worthless...

I watch people around me everyday who mock what is of most worth to me - the gospel of Jesus Christ.   They discount it's value because they don't understand - they can't see or they don't want to see - they don't comprehend how things fit together so they decide the best way to combat what they don't comprehend is to criticize and complain.

It boggles my mind sometimes that things that are so plain and precious can be such a stumbling block and source of contention for others.  And at the same time, I wish I understood more... there are so many things I don't know.

I guess that is the point of my journey here - to learn enough, to understand enough, to see clearly enough so that I value what I have right in front of me - which is a beautiful world, a loving father in heaven, a plan to return to him thru Jesus Christ my Savior and a stewardship to help others see clearly too.  That I give worth to things that have eternal value and significance.

So the answer to the question, for me, is "YES!  I wish I could!"

I wish, with all my heart, that I could understand more than I do.   I wish so much that others could see that our understanding/comprehension of things does not add or subtract from it's true worth.  We cannot devalue the worth of something by simply saying it isn't important.  We cripple ourselves, hinder our own progress when we discredit things because we don't understand.

So it's worth it to me to struggle to get my family to church.  Sometimes I don't get it - why it has to be so hard but I know that in the end it is always worth it.  I don't get it either... a lot of the time but...

I wish I could.

So I will keep on trying until I do.

I am a Daughter

We go to Mexico every Fall Break and have for several years.  It is AWESOME!  We love the condo we rent at Sonoran Sea.  We love the mangos and surf, the friends and shared meals.  It is so fun.   We couldn't ever imagine a Fall Break without Mexico.  Until last year.  

The condo we stay in needs to be booked pretty quickly after we leave for the next year but when we checked out last year I go a NO GO feeling.   We went home and didn't book it.   Don't go...  A few months later some friends started reminding us to book it and we didn't.  Don't go...  I felt strongly that we shouldn't go.  A few months after that the families we usually go with began to put the pressure on and we began to feel pangs of remorse for not planning to go.  And still I felt we shouldn't go.  Such a strange sensation to want to do something and feel like you shouldn't but not understand why...

Finally James and I decided that if we weren't going to Mexico, maybe we could go to General conference.  That felt right.  We moved ahead with our plan.  As we moved ahead, we realized Tyler, my nephew, was going in the MTC the week we would be there.  So we would be there and so would my sister and her family who live in Tennessee.  My whole family would be in the same place at the same time.  That NEVER happens.  I talked to my dad about having a family reunion.  He agreed and we booked the Hobble Creek Lodge for the weekend.  Ironically enough, we ended up NOT going to Conference but enjoying a beautiful weekend together as a family.  We watched conference, paddled around in the canoe on the pond, took family pictures, cooked, played Scum, made a gratitude wall, had a talent show, and made memories.  

At the end of the weekend, Bumpa (my dad) let everyone know that he is ill with prostate cancer and that he will be having surgery in November.  It was so beautiful to have had that time together.  All of us.  At that moment it all made sense...  No Go.  We needed to be somewhere else and God knew that way before we did.  I was so grateful for the promptings and for the experience we were able to have as a family together.

When we left Utah, I hugged my dad and emotion filled up in me.  Gratitude for having such a wonderful man as my father and worry for his health.  I couldn't help the tears that began to fall.  It all just came gushing out.  And true to form, my dad had something ready to say.   He said, "Remember how I told you I read your blog? - I noticed that your title says, 'My name is Tricia.  I am a wife, a mother, a dancer, a writer, a photographer and a believer in Christ.'  You left something out.  Daughter.  You were my daughter first - before you were any of those other things.  Will you do me a favor when you get home and fix your blog so it includes daughter?"    

Yah... that didn't help me stop crying....  But true to my word I am changing it to include the word daughter because that was the first thing I was.  And maybe all the other things I am are because of it.  I guess I do owe who I am today to being a daughter.  I am the daughter of AMAZING parents.  I am sure not everything was perfect in my childhood home but the overall feeling I get when I reflect on the job my parents did is Goodness.  My life has been good and I have been able to grow and stretch and become who I am because of the home they gave me.  There is a lot of them in me. 

I used to think I was just like my mom - artistic, creative and energetic.  But the older I get, the more I recognize my dads characteristics in myself.  Resourcefulness, persistence, and science minded.  If I could go back to college again, I think I would study the physical sciences - physics, geology, astronomy.   There is a lot of my dad in me because I am his.  I am also a daughter of God.  There is something of Him in me because I am His as well.  I don't always notice it but the older I get, the more I notice that there are parts of me that I can't explain - and my hope is that I not only become like my earthly father but my Father in Heaven as well. 

So who am I?

'My name is Tricia.  I am a daughter, a wife, a mother, a dancer, a writer, a photographer and a believer in Christ.'  

Such a long time ago... I almost forgot but the first thing I ever was, was a daughter.  Thanks Dad.

Books, Grace and Mercy

I love my book club. Amy Seiter and I started it almost 14 years ago. Over the years we have laughed and cried together and discussed SO many books. Every September we have a retreat to pick 11 new books for the year. We work really hard to read lots of different genres. From Classics to Historical Fiction to Self Help and Mysteries, we read it all. Some are better than others because truly, some books are life changers and others are just reading candy. 

A while back, we decided to read the unabridged version of Les Mis. I got it and read and read and read and barely made a dent in the epic work. But I did discover more depth in the pre story of how Jean Val Jean got to where he was and I’ve been thinking a lot about the story ever since… In the story, a guy named Jean ValJean is a young man and steals a loaf of bread to feed his sister’s starving children. He is caught and put in jail for 5 years. He tries to escape and is caught and given an additional 14 years in prison. After 19 years of brutally horrible imprisonment, he is released as a parolle with no hope. No one will hire him. It is winter. He is freezing and starving. He is found by a Catholic bishop who invites him in for dinner and a place to sleep out of the cold. Jean is almost out of his mind with hunger and ravenously eats. That night, out of desperation, lack of hope and fear, Jean steals the Priest’s silver and sets of into the night. He is quickly caught and violently returned to the bishop by a pompous officer wanting praise for returning a criminal and his loot. When the bishop sees Jean, he has compassion on him and extends to him 2 things: Mercy and Grace. In the Les Mis musical the Bishop tells Jean,

But my friend you left so early

Surely something slipped your mind.

You forgot… I gave these (his candlesticks) also;

Would you leave the best behind?

So messieurs, release him

This man has spoken true.

I commend you for your duty

And God's blessing go with you.

Mercy - Avoiding a punishment that you DO deserve.

Grace - Receiving a blessing that you do NOT deserve.

The bishop gave Jean both.  He allowed him to avoid the punishment of the rest of his life in prison (which was the penalty for stealing again).  And he gave him the blessing of the rest of his silver though he clearly didn’t deserve it.  But the bishop didn’t do this just for fun - he had a reason.  The bishop says, 

But remember this, my brother,

See in this some higher plan.

You must use this precious silver

To become an honest man.

By the witness of the martyrs,

By the passion and the blood,

God has raised you out of darkness:

I have saved your soul for God.

When I thought about this whole scene, I thought of how much it is like us and Christ.  Just as the bishop allowed Jean ValJean to avoid a punishment that he DID deserve (going back to jail for stealing), Christ allows us to avoid punishment for our sins by allowing us to repent and he will pay the price for them.

Just as the bishop gave Jean ValJean a blessing he did NOT deserve (the silver), Christ gives us the gift of salvation even though we could never be worthy of it.  Even if we worked 24 hours a day, every day, our efforts still wouldn’t be enough…

Just as the bishop bought (redeemed) Jean ValJean’s life with the price of his silver, Christ has bought us (redeemed us) with the price of his life.  I’m not sure why I never saw this correlation before (I’ve read the book and seen the play several times!) but I’ve been studying a lot about Grace lately and the meaning and symbolism of this scene really hit home.  

Jean didn’t earn the bishops grace & mercy.  We don’t EARN mercy and grace.  They are free gifts.  It is merely our choice to act upon them….or not.  Jean ValJean could have carried on being a thief just like we can continue on in sin and worldliness.  Or we (like Jean ValJean) can recognize the amazing gift/opportunity that has been given to us.  

He had to start over and choose to accept what the bishop had given him.  That made me wonder, What saves?  What saved Jean?  Was it his worthiness?  No.  

What saves us?  Is it our worthiness?  Is it our acts?  Going to church every week?  Reading our scriptures, Serving missions?  Taking the sacrament?

No.  It is the benevolent gift of our Savior.  We can never be worthy of his mercy or grace, yet he gives it anyway.  It is thru him we are given the opportunity to hold on to what we have already been given - the opportunity for Salvation.  We must react to that gift.  Embrace it.  Let it change us.  Dedicate ourselves to following Christ.

Salvation only comes thru Christ:

2N 2:3 ….Wherefore, I know that thou art redeemed, because of the righteousness of thy Redeemer

2N 10: 24 Wherefore, my beloved brethren, reconcile yourselves to the will of God, and not to the will of the devil and the flesh; and remember, after ye are reconciled unto God, that it is only in and through the grace of God that ye are saved.

2N 2: 8   …there is no flesh that can dwell in the presence of God, save it be through the merits, and mercy, and grace of the Holy Messiah

Moroni 6:4   …relying alone upon the merits of Christ

Alma 22:14    And since man had fallen he could not merit anything of himself; but the sufferings and death of Christ atone for their sins

I love what Jean ValJean say when he leaves the bishop and the reality of what has just happened sinks in.  These words are awesome…

What have I done,

Sweet Jesus, what have I done?

Become a thief in the night

Become a dog on the run

And have I fallen so far

And as the hour so late

That nothing remains but the cry of my hate

The cries in the dark that nobody hears

Here where I stand at the turning of the years

(He recognizes that he is so unworthy, so far astray.  Just like us…)

If there's another way to go

I missed it twenty long years ago

My life was a war that could never be won

They gave me a number and they murdered Valjean

When they chained me and left me for dead

Just for stealing a mouthful of bread

(He questions and justifies who he has become.  We all have reasons we are not who we should be or wish we could be or know that we can become.  But he has a choice to make - we all do.  Do we allow Christ to touch us?  Teach us love?  Give us truth?  Call us brother/sister?  Claim us for God?  Is it all really possible?  Can he/we shake the life we have known for something better?)

Yet why did I allow this man

to touch my soul and teach me love?

He treated me like any other

He gave me his trust

He called me brother

My life he claims for God above

Can such things be?

For I had come to hate the world

This world that always hated me

Take an eye for an eye

Turn your heart into stone

This is all I have lived for

This is all I have known

He realizes the gravity of his situation in a new way.  Terror strikes him at what he was headed for.  He feels shame and remorse.

One word from him and I'd be back

beneath the lash, upon the rack (the rack was a torture device in the 1800’s)

Instead he offers me my freedom

I feel my shame inside me like a knife

He is touched by the strength of the Bishops faith.  But has so little himself that he can hardly believe him.

He told me that I have a soul

How does he know?

What spirit comes to move my life

Is there another way to go?

(He realizes there is more to know than what he knows.  I know there is SO much more than we know…. To know we must fall.  Fall away from sin and begin anew in Christ.)

I am reaching, but I fall

and the night is closing in

As I stare into the void

to the whirlpool of my sin

I'll escape now from that world

From the world of Jean Valjean

Jean Valjean is nothing now

Another story must begin!

I love when I find such a strong testimony of Christ and his purpose in the most unlikely places.  Victor Hugo wrote Les Miserables in 1862 in France.   Truth is truth no matter where it is found.  All things testify of Christ if we look closely.   Sometimes we can't see the truth at first glance or first read... often for me, it is not till much later that I can see God’s hand in something.  I think that is probably what the temple is like too.  We are there and see and hear over and over again and then one day it is there!  We see it.  A piece of truth we never noticed before.  Something that testifies to our soul in a way it couldn’t have until we were prepared to see it.    

So thank you book club ladies for choosing a book I needed to read to understand a concept that I thought I already understood.  There's nothing like a new book to open your eyes.

Had we not been there - God knows where we need to be way before we do - Part II

Saturday I was asked to chaperone an activity for Ben Franklin High School where my twins go.  I was excited and took Hailey to help chaperone.  It was hardly chaperoning as the kids were awesome and respectful and kind.  We floated, ate, talked, cliff jumped and floated some more.  At the end of the day, I told the kids that I wanted to float one more time and so any who wanted to float again needed to be ahead of me on the river so I could make sure all kids were out.

As we were floating, I noticed a group of 6 or 7 kids hop in behind me about 100 yards.  We were floating a private part of the river and no one but us had been there all day so I assumed they were part of our group.  At the end of the float, I was waiting for those kids.  As I waited in my tube with Hailey, I decided to go to the middle of the river and rinse the pebbles out of my swimming suit bottoms.  The current was super strong and if I put my hands under the water to mess with my suit, it would knock me over.  I struggled to stay upright but the waist deep water felt so nice that I hung out there for a bit.

As I did, I watched a mom and dad and 2 little kids approach the river.  The dad was clearly intoxicated and was standing on the shore with a toddler.  The mom (who we later realized had been drinking as well) wanted to be in the water and began to enter the current with the little girl (about 9 yrs old).  The girl was petrified and crying that she didn't want to go.  The mom tugged on her and they began to wade in despite the child's protests.  They were facing the current just like me  but were farther downstream at the point where the water got very deep and the river made a turn.  In this spot the river gets 3-4 times wider than where we were.  Suddenly, the panicked little girl, who clearly couldn't swim, fell and banged into her mom's legs, knocking her off her feet.  She struggled to regain her footing but was quickly swept into deep water.  Unable to reach to stand up and fighting a panicked child, she hollered for her husband.  He left the baby and ran into the water.  All three struggled to keep the little girl afloat but she was pulling them under and they were being swept farther and farther into open water.

I yelled for Hailey to throw me my tube and I hurled it as far as I could.  It only made it halfway to the family.  The mom left the dad and girl and swam towards the tube.  She and I reached the tube at the same time and she grabbed on and began using it to float.  I urged her to let go of the tube so I could get it to her husband who was mostly submerged and struggling under the weight of their frantic child.  She said she would take it to them but she made no progress.  In a panic, I told her to let go and swim to shore but she wouldn't.  I looked over at the dad who was now underwater and only surfacing rarely and realized that he would drown before she could get it to him.  I urged her again to let go and she hesitated.  I pushed her arm off the tube and swam with it as fast as I could to the other two.

By the time I got to them, the child was hysterical and the dad was coughing and choking.  It was terrifying.  The little girl continued to struggle and fight us.  I finally layed on the tube and pulled her by her shorts onto it.  At this point, she finally stopped struggling and just cried.  The current continued to carry us farther into the bend of the river and the dad was exhausted and completely spent (not to mention drunk).  I had to swim harder than I have ever swam to get us out of the current and the long upstream swim back.  By the time we reached the shore I was exhausted.  Hailey was luckily there to hold & comfort the toddler who was upset and crying.  I sat on the shore for a couple minutes to catch my breath.  The family never said a word to me.  Not one word.   Maybe they were embarrassed, maybe they didn't want us to notice they were drunk, I'm not sure.  We picked up our tubes and walked back to the bus.  It took about 20 mins for the adrenaline in my body to stop making me shake.

It makes me cringe to think what could have happened if we had not been there.

I'm not sure if they will even remember what happened tomorrow, but I will.

What I learned:

God knows where we need to be way before we do.

God loves people even when they are making stupid decisions.

God knows where we need to be… way before we do

Last August, almost a year ago, I woke one morning with an urgent feeling.  Be in the Easter Pageant.  I mulled the idea over in my mind for weeks and kept feeling the same prompting.  Be in the Easter Pageant.

"Really?" I thought…  I have 5 kids which means I have violin lessons, dance lessons, gymnastics classes, cub scouts, activity days, Youth group activities, piano lessons, baseball, basketball, volleyball team, golf team, and EVMCO choir practices simultaneously during the months of March & April.   Not to mention the countless other activities and obligations we have as parents.  There seemed to be no way.

And the thought persisted.

By September, I realized that that was what I would be doing and I announced it to my family.  Some were elated, some gave me the Are You Kidding Me? look and a couple just ignored that I had said anything at all (perhaps hoping I'd forget).

By October I had signed us up and we made it to the tryouts.  We slipped tryouts in on a Saturday morning between chores and a State Fair dance performance and no one was in a good mood.  James was out of town and if they were grading us on how well our family got along or worked together, we would have been dismissed immediately.  It was stressful and chaotic getting there but as they filed us into a room, they asked us to imagine how we would feel if we saw certain scenes (like seeing a child being healed)  Despite feeling super awkward, I felt the Spirit overwhelm me.  I felt powerful emotion as they asked us to imagine and began to cry.  

After the audition, we all went our separate ways.  The big kids went home and I went to the State Fair with the littles.  That night, Dalton and I fell very, very ill.  By the next morning, I couldn't get out of bed and had to have Hailey take Dalton to the urgent care because I couldn't.  They immediately transferred him to Phoenix Children's hospital where he stayed for the next 3 days while I was in a feverish delirium at home.  It was hard.  James flew home and went straight to the hospital to spell off our 17 year old, Hailey who had been caring for Dalton.  Our life ground to a halt as we struggled to recover.  I layed at home feeling helpless and sick with the mystery illness that had attacked us.   I felt the adversary rise up and powerfully protest the move we had just made.

I think it was around December that we found out we had been chosen to participate.  We all got our parts and they were perfect for each of us.  Hailey was cast as the beautiful Pilot's maid where she didn't have to "perform" but she was a character with a special part.  The boys got to carry the lambs and the banners - they felt super important and it was awesome.  Everyone was perfectly cast - for them.  James and the littles and I were cast in the multitude scenes and in a scene called Jesus and the Children.  We assumed that scene was a multitude-everyone-in-it scene as well and were surprised to find only a handful of adults on stage during that scene.   And we wondered why we had been chosen for that scene.  We assumed it was because we had the 2 littles.  But I know now that was not why.  God knew where we needed to be.  He knew where we needed to stand to see what we needed to see.  He knew what we needed to experience and feel.  Because, unlike us, He knew what lay ahead.

The first time we did that scene, we watched as the father carries his dead daughter out to the Savior.  Her arms were limp and she was gone.  I watched and was caught up in that same feeling I had had at the audition.  A feeling of intense anguish, sadness and grief overwhelmed me and I cried.  I was embarrassed and unsure about the power of what I felt.  But Christ takes the girl and blesses her and heals her and immediately my pain turned to relief.   I know it was acting but I felt something real.  I physically felt pain and relief.  I wondered if everyone else had felt like I did.

A few days later, we practiced the scene again, and I felt the same emotion swell in me followed by relief and joy.  Very powerful and very real.  I asked James if it was normal to cry every time?

Within 2 weeks of that night, 2 of my dear friends both lost their daughters in tragic accidents.  One day they were there.  The next they were gone.

I had already felt their pain.  I had already physically felt the burden of their loss.   But what I had also felt was the relief that comes thru our Savior.  The love and the healing he brings.  The miracle of restoration.  I had felt it and it was real.   And I could comfort them with an understanding that I didn't have before.

I felt in some way that God had placed me there, right there, so I could see and feel and understand how it is possible to feel the pain and loss and suffering that others feel without going thru it ourselves.  I know our Savior, without going thru the pain of losing a child himself, knows exactly how it feels and can comfort us, restore us, give us relief from pain that seems too heavy to bear.  He sees our struggles and heals our hearts.

So, looking back to the beginning, I can see God's hand - guiding me, teaching me, showing me, allowing me to feel what I needed to feel to be a good friend.  To help me have an increased measure of empathy.  To help me comfort those that needed comfort.

As we went thru the last week of the Pageant, mourning with our dear friends and participating in their daughter's memorial and funeral, we felt uplifted and filled up each night.  The Pageant meant something different now.  Something more.  With super sensitive spirits, we watched and sang and wept.

James was asked to speak at the funeral of one of the sweet girls.  After he spoke, and maybe even before, we realized that he had been prepared for a month for that moment.  He had been placed where he needed to be to see and hear the message of the Resurrected Christ over and over till it burned in him.  And he felt humbled to share that message with so many.

Christ lives.  God lives and we know how much they love us.  As we watch their hands in our lives, leading and guiding us to what we need, we feel grateful.  I feel like the Spirit has hardened a shell of testimony around me.  One that will protect and insulate me from the doubt and dissension that swirl around me.  And one that helps me see how learning about the Savior is how we become like him.

Testimony of a Teenager

I have another dear friend (the second in as many weeks) whose daughter passed away Saturday night.  Sudden, tragic and heartbreaking.  Losing a child is such a devastating thing… My heart aches in empathy.  The pain is real and physical and oppressive.  I cannot imagine how her heart feels.

There were so many things that I wanted to tell her.  So much I had to say that just couldn't come out.  So much comfort I wanted to share but no words… I felt numb with sorrow.

As I sat at the carwash today, waiting, I opened Instagram on my phone.  Mind you that I do not have an account - it was logged into my 10 year old daughter's account.   As I scrolled thru the photos, I came across a picture of the Savior posted by a teenager we know, with a hash tag that said this,

"The Friday of the Savior's death was one of the darkest days in history.  The people mourned greatly for the loss of their Savior and all hope was lost; until Sunday came.  The glorious resurrection of the Savior brought joy and restored hope to everyone.  All of us will have Fridays… We will experience broken times and days full of sorrow, but Sunday will come.  The message of this wonderful Easter Season is that no matter how dark or how difficult our circumstances may be, Sunday will come!  The Savior loves each and every one of us whether you believe it or not.  He is there for you and He always will be.  Take the time this week to turn to Him and I promise you will feel of His love and His arms encircled around you." #becauseHelives

Such profound words from a teenage girl.  It was like medicine on a wound.  When had she written them?  Was she thinking of me?  Of my friend?  How could she have written all that I had in my heart that couldn't make it's way out?  Did she know she answered my prayers and gave me the words to give my friend?  Did she know she was God's instrument in delivering comfort?

I shared her words with my friend.  I couldn't even copy and paste them… I'm not that tech savvy.  I screen shot the post and just sent it as a text with a short explanation.

I'm not sure who received the most comfort from those words but I know their effect on me was profound.  That beautiful teenager used her social media for good - to testify truth.  And from her to the Instagram of my 10 year old, to me in a carwash, to my bereaved friend, her message moved thru this world blessing all those it touched.

Thank you Lindsay.

http://www.mormon.org/easter

Magnification of Good

Our family is participating in the Easter Pageant this year.  We tried out in October and were selected to participate.  We told our kids they could participate or hang out with their really cool grandparents for a month.  Grumbling and complaining, the teenagers agreed.  The grumbling continued until the first practice and there hasn't been a complaint since.  The Pageant has power.  I can testify of that.   My children have all different rolls from carrying baby lambs, to surrounding Jesus as he heals, to holding the water that Pilate washes his hands in.  They all have several parts and scenes and there is power in each scene.  

James and the two littles and I are in a scene called Jesus and the Children.  In the scene, Christ heals two children as the other children sing, "He is my Savior, my Redeemer, my friend".  It is beautiful and powerful and full of love.  The first night we practiced this scene, I felt the Spirit so strongly that I cried.  

When the practice was over, I took the littles home and James stayed to practice the Mob Scene.  We hadn't given it much thought - everything had been so amazing so far.  

When he came home that night, he was very sad.  He expressed how horrible it had been to be caught up in that scene.  Looking around at the men, who were clearly Pageant veterans and had been in the scene before, he felt frozen.  He said he couldn't do anything but watch and feel terrible.  He was supposed to revile the Savior and demand his crucifixion but he couldn't.  He said that it really drove home the love he has for his Savior.  They kept them after and gave them a debriefing (like treating someone for post traumatic stress I would imagine).  And comforted them.  They gave them specific instructions to leave that on stage and to move on when they exit the scene.  That was hard.  Emotions are real.  Even when you are acting.  Even when you are just watching.  

With repetition, the scene has become less painful for James and he has been able to move past the shock of it.

The last scene I want to mention, though I could write a post about every single one, is the scene when Mary Magdalene runs to the tomb and sings He is Risen.  It is beautiful.  I watch and listen and the words fill my soul.  I loved it the first time I heard her sing it and felt overcome with emotion.  I assumed that, just like the mob scene had lost some of it's impact on James, this scene would loose some of it's impact on me as I listen to it over and over and over.  But it hasn't.   Every time I hear it, it has more power over me.  It reaches farther into my soul and magnifies itself.

So maybe that is how good and evil are...  Evil, if repeated over and over, looses it's sting.  It looses it's horror.  Our Spirit becomes numb to it.

But good, if we continually consume it, magnifies in us until we can hardly contain it.

Homebase, Heartbreak and Hope

Springbreak has come and gone and left me with several beautiful moments I will always remember.

The first was Wednesday, I took the kids to Jumpstreet to burn off some of their energy.  I checked them in and went to the back to find a semi-quiet place to read my book.  My kids had long since run off and left me to join a game of trampoline dodgeball.  As I settled in, here came Colby - "Hey mom. Whatcha doing?  Ok - bye" and off he went.  Then Ivy - "Hi, why are you back here?"  I didn't have the heart to tell her that it was in hopes of being able to read my book undisturbed...  She plopped down next to me touched my arm and grinned and danced away.  Then came Dalton - sad he had unjustly gotten tagged out of the dodgeball game - "Mom..." and the story of the unfairness emerged as he climbed up in my lap.   A hug and kiss and off he went.  Moments later, Colby rounded third base and slid into home base again - all hot and sweaty to tell me he and his friend were having fun.  Then Dalton and Ivy together.  Tagging the me in unison.  Watch this!  Watch me!   Round and round they went.  Play, sweat, run back to mom.  Run, play, get a drink and tell mom what they just did.  Then repeat.  I officially read 2 paragraphs in 90 minutes.  But as I sat there, I realize how much I love being home base for my kids.  The place they run to to be safe.  To be seen, heard, loved, consoled, listened to and cared for.    Sometimes I am not only home base but the umpire too.  But I'd take that any day to always be their home base.

A few days later we attending the wedding of the oldest daughter in the Coon family.  They looked radiant and so very happy.  It was beautiful  - dancing, sparklers, cookies and friends - we were joyous and happy all evening.

On the way home, I got a series of text informing me that the daughter of a dear friend had just been tragically killed in an off roading accident.  We drove the rest of the way home in devastation.  Sad to the core.  Shocked and heartbroken.  The reality of it all couldn't even sink in.  We drove home, gathered our children and mourned.  The next morning, it was like it had been a nightmare only to wake and realize it wasn't.  It was real.  The heartache was magnified as we prepared for church and the reality that our sweet friend would not be there.   As we sat in church, our emotions very near the surface, in walked the family of the girl who had passed.   I saw them and wept.  Such courage.  Such devotion.  Such heartache.  She had passed only hours before - they must have been up most of the night.  With swollen eyelids and visible injuries on two siblings who had been with her in the accident, they took their seat and allowed us to mourn with them.

At the close of the meeting, our stake president stood and asked if we would all kneel for the closing prayer and asked the Bishop to offer it.  As the closing hymn ended, everyone kneeled where they were and we prayed for their family, for peace and comfort, for others whose pains we are not so aware of, and for healing of the pains of loss.  What a spiritual moment.  United, we mourned with those that mourn.  It was beautiful.  A different kind of beautiful - but beautiful.

After the prayer, I made my way back to my friend and as I waited to give her a hug and love,  I saw her husband.  I told him, "Thank you for coming, what an example you are to all of us".  And he looked me in the eye and said, "Of course we come Sister Johnson.  It's true - that's why we come."  

I turned to hug my friend and said how sorry I was, and that her daughter was such a light to us all.  Hardly able to even lift her head, she told me, "Tricia, God could have taken 3 of my babies last night and he only took one!"  I'll never forget their courage and strength - in the darkest moment that they have probably ever experienced, there they were - testifying of God's truth and mercy to us! We are supposed to "mourn with those that mourn and comfort those that stand in need of comfort" but to my surprise, THEY were mourning with me and comforting me as much as I was with them.  What a beautiful moment.

Immediately following the meeting, I had to go teach my class of 10 year olds - who are super awesome by the way.  Unable to compose myself, we took a walk around the church before we started our lesson.  The lesson was on prayer from the book of Matthew in the Bible.  I had brought my Karl Bloch picture of Jesus being comforted by the angel as he pleadingly asked God if it be Thy will, remove this cup from me - but not my will but Thine be done.  Even the Savior had to go thru things that seemed too hard, too big, too painful for even Him to overcome.  Like the Savior, sometimes we have to walk a road that seems to full of pain to endure but the greatest gift we have, the atonement, came from His suffering.  And though this family's pain seems unimaginable to me, I can already see the lives that have been touched, changed, improved because of the way they have handled their trial.  Well done my friends.  Well done.  You not only shared your heartbreak with us, but you shared your hope and happiness in the Savior and his goodness.

In the words of a good man, "It's true.  That's why we come".  That's why we do what we do.  That's why we hope.  That's why we believe.

Waves

Waves wash in and waves wash out.  That is what a friend named Amy taught in her RS lesson the other night.  And emotions are just like waves she said.  The average wave lasts 5-10 seconds and then it's gone.  I've thought a lot about that since she said it.  But I find myself and my family focusing on the first few seconds of the emotion and getting stuck.  Not letting the wave wash back out.  Anger, frustration, elation, pride, jealousy, you name it and it is probably bad to stick there in the feeling too long.  Emotions, like waves are meant to I think are meant move us - literally to transport us from one spot to another.  To motivate us - change us and move us forward.  But we get stuck.  Stuck in the wave of anger so that we are unable to feel the smaller waves of love or forgiveness that follow.   Stuck in the wave of pride so we can't feel the waves of empathy or kindness that are lapping against us as well.

So that is my goal this month.  It is spring and my goal is to spring back from feeling emotions quicker.   Feel irritation or panic or anger or whatever - I am taking a full 10 seconds to experience the feeling then walk away from it.  It's empowering.  Power over feelings is strength.

Some emotions I have decided to experience a little longer - the emotions based in love.  Like adoration of a sweet child or contentment that I have a good man who loves me.  Those I will choose to bask in and perhaps even record but to the rest, hello and goodbye.  On to the rest of my day.

Never turn your back

Never turn your back.  Not for a minute.  That is what I have learned as a mother of twin boys and children in general.

Years ago,  we lived in our first home in Florida.  It was perfect and tiny and full of love.  998 square feet of love to be exact.  My whole house was visible from one spot - except the laundry.  Due to the tiny nature of our home, the washer and dryer were in the 1 car garage - approximately 15 feet from the door into the family room.

One day, I layed a big blanket on the floor in the family room and put some toys on it and scattered cheerios around it to give the twins something to do while I rotated the laundry.  Clothes from the dryer into a basket, clothes from washer into the dryer and start a new load.  That was it.  4 minutes tops.  And I was back in the family room to check on my 16 month old twins.  How much trouble could they get into in 4 minutes with an expertly arranged minefield of food and toys to distract them?

Here I must back up a bit and explain that we were poor.  Very poor.  Do-daycare-out-of-my-home-to-exist kind of poor.  We were in dental school and desperately trying to avoid taking out student loans to live.  We had just finished 4 years of dental school, 2 years of residency and had 3 kids.  Things were super tight and we had scraped together every penny we had to replace the carpeting in our house order to get top dollar for our tiny love shack.  We placed it on the market and luckily it sold quickly.  A few weeks from then we would be closing on the home and moving to Arizona.

Now you can understand why I had placed a BIG blanket down for the boys to play on.  Brand new white carpeting.  It looked magnificent and quite honestly may have been the single reason the house sold so quickly.  It was beautiful.

After doing the laundry, I walked back into the house and to my horror saw Colby sitting on the floor (NOT on the blanket) and Connor above him pouring a blue liquid over his head.  No joke.  I can't even make this stuff up.  As I surveyed the scene, I saw blue footprints around the dining room table  (which was on the carpet) and continuing on to the front door and back.  Colby was sitting in a foot wide puddle of green stuff.  His legs were covered in green and the blue liquid that covered his head was dripping off his chin making pretty blue spots on the carpet.  What in the world was going on?!? and what was this blue and green stuff?  I picked the twins up and dripping blue and green, raced them to the bathtub.  As I began rinsing them off, I realized that it didn't come off...  It was ink.  In terror, I bathed them as best I could and sternly put 2 blue/green aliens in their cribs for a nap to avoid further contamination and to keep from killing them.

Like in a horror movie, I went back to examine the scene of the crime.  HOW had this happened?  What was it?  Where did it come from?  Piecing together the clues:  The bottom drawer of James' desk was open.  There was a small cardboard box next to the drawer.  There was a bottle of red ink still inside and instructions on how to refill your printer's ink cartridges.  And 2 empty bottles of ink discarded in a mess of puddles and footprints.  They were 3 oz bottles with a capped tip.   I had no idea they existed.  I had no idea they were there.  I HAD NO IDEA.  But my boys found them and in 4 minutes had played Jackson Pollack on my carpet.  I was beside myself with fear knowing that we had spent all our money on the carpet and had none left over to replace it.  And the house was already sold.

I sat and sobbed in the middle of the colorful war zone.  And then prayed.  And then cried some more.  James was in school.  I had no family near.  I was alone and close to a meltdown.  Then I prayed some more and got up.  I found the phone book and began calling carpet cleaners.

What's on your carpet?
Printer ink....
Sorry - that won't come out.
Can you please come try.
No.  or Not till tomorrow. or It's not worth our time.

Then I would cry and pray and call again.

I went thru 4 cleaners and on the 5th I couldn't handle it anymore.  I bawled right into the phone.  Crying I explained the whole story to the lady on the other end (who happened to be the carpet cleaner's wife). She had pity on me and told me she would call her husband and have him come over right away but that we would need to pay for the cleaning whether it came out or not.  She told me not to touch it and to just hang on till he got there.  Mercifully, he arrived in 30 minutes and got to work.  He cleaned and cleaned and cleaned and treated and cleaned.  I went to my room and prayed.  "God, you know how much I need a miracle... please..."

An hour later he finished and the carpet was white.  The ink was gone.  My children were given a stay of execution.  The only remaining evidence of the crime were the 2 blue/green aliens still in their cribs.  I hugged the carpet cleaner and cried again.  Miracles are real.  I told him so.  God heard me and answered my prayers.  He knows me and let me feel the power of his grace as He fixed a problem that was too big for me.

Spencer W. Kimball once said, "God does notice us, and He watches over us.  But it is usually through another person that he meets our needs."   That day I felt God watching over me and was so grateful to that wife for convincing her husband to come help me.  I wonder if they realized that God had used them that day to bless me with a miracle?  I did.

God knows best

Two years ago I was praying for my teenage daughter and asking God what I could do to help her.  The answer I got surprised me.  Get a dog.

Flashback 2years... We got a lab puppy for Christmas named Bella.  Beautiful dog from a local breeder.  But a dog nonetheless.  I do not do dog hair in my house so Bella was an outside dog.  At first it was wonderful and new and fabulous and she was small.  But quickly she became big and not so wonderful as she began to chew up EVERYTHING.  Driplines, sprinkler heads, toys, and my 3 year old's head.  Every time Dalton or a small child went into the backyard, Bella would wait till their back was turned and pounce on them, knock them over and playfully chew on their head.  Little kids don't like that in case you were wondering... There were lots of tears, scrapes and scratches - none of them intentional but sad kids still.  It got to be that the kids stopped playing in the backyard and the neighbor kids couldn't come over without me outside too.  It was a problem.  We got a trainer.  She was great but we just couldn't get it under control.  As the weather got warmer, the kids wanted to be outside with Bella even less and Bella's behavior got worse.  In hindsight, (and 50 episodes of The Dog Whisperer later) we were a terrible pack for that dog and could do so much better now, but at the time, we were doing the best we knew how.  I decided it was best for everyone to get Bella a more suitable home and to give up the dream of having a dog to reclaim my yard.  It was sad, hard, terrible, heartbreaking and pitiful the day we gave her away.  Tears all around but I NEVER regretted it.  Or even missed her for that matter.  The kids, in their nostalgic way, missed her and had crying parties occasionally.   I never looked back.  No regrets.

So, the answer to my prayer... get a dog.  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?  I had sworn off pets forever (especially after we had gone on a week vacation and forgotten about Connor's tiny pet frogs.  The water in their jar evaporated and the frogs desiccated and it was the closest thing to frog jerky I'd ever seen when we got home.)  Pets and I just didn't work out.  I had too much going on.

But when I feel God speak to me, I listen.  I had asked the question and clearly got an answer.   I didn't know how to break the news to James... so I made a lunch date.  Over lunch I sprung it on him. A dog.  Now.  You can imagine his surprise.  When I said, Guess what?  He never - even with a million guesses - would have guessed that one.   His disbelief was apparent and comical.  I told him I'd take care of it.  No worries.  It would be fine.

With his incredulous blessing, I started the search for THE dog.  I did a full 24 hours of research, went to a petstore (where James tried to buy the wrong, very expensive poodle), called on several ads (all turned out to be puppy mills) and looked on craigslist.  I found an ad on craigslist for Morkie puppies and called and went over right away.  It was a small, dismal house by the cemetery in Mesa.  The family owned the mom and the dad - who were both about as ugly a dog as there is...  And there were 7 puppies.  I spotted Jetta right away.  I took pictures of her and left.  I wasn't sold yet because if genetics were real, she had a high likelihood of being quite a mangy looking dog when grown.

So, I repeated the entire process - still not sure Jetta was the right pup for us.    But I couldn't get her off my mind.  I went back to craigslist to call about her again only to find their post had been removed.  Dang.  I started again.  Pet store, calls, research, ads...  And I couldn't get that puppy off my mind.  So I checked craigslist again.  The ad was back.  (Come to find out, the puppy mill breeders kept flagging their post and having it removed to eliminate competition.)  So, fortunately for me, the family still had ALL the puppies.  I took the girls out of school and rushed to their house.  I told the girls to pick out a puppy to see if God was really guiding me to that dog or if I was imagining it.  (I test God occasionally like that.. though I don't recommend it.)  Sure enough, Hailey went right to Jetta and picked her up and never put her down.  We bought her right then and there.

This story is special to me because I see God's love in my life.  For me.  For James.  For my children. He knows us and loves us and knew that, at that time, one of my children needed something very specific.  A dog.  That dog.  Jetta has turned out to be the most amazing infusion of love in our family.  She sleeps with Hailey every night, greets her at the door with boundless enthusiasm, keeps endless vigil over her when she is sick or sad and provides her something to love and care for.  That doesn't even take into account the love affair that goes on between my husband and the dog...  That's another story.  But suffice it to say Jetta is adored by all.  I trust her, love her and thank God every day for her.

#WhyIStay

I read an article about a guy who is a member of the church that addresses why he stays in the church amid the tongue wagging that is going on in the media by others who have left.  It made me ask myself the same question.  Here is my answer:  I make covenants and I keep them.  Each covenant I have made has been thought about and I have felt God's love assuring me that the covenant will help me be closer to him.  Covenants made are easy to keep when things are easy - they make sense then - you can easily understand why they are important.  It's when things get hard that covenants don't make sense and are hard to keep.  It's just like when I decide that sugar isn't good for me and I shouldn't eat it because it is making me unhealthy, fat and destroying my thyroid - that choice is easy.  When I am tired and stressed at 3:00 and all of my kids are flooding in with problems and chaos -  it is then that I want the sugar.  And I want it now.  I want it desperately.  I need it.  It calms me - makes me feel better.  But, all the problems it causes are still there - just to be dealt with later.   Breaking covenants is like procrastination.  It's going to be hard.  Now or later.  And the longer I put it off, the harder it gets.  Covenants keep me safe.  Covenants are the voice of reason when I am pulled so strongly in a direction that my reasonable self doesn't really want to go.  I stay because keeping my covenants keeps me moving the direction that I know I want to go.

I covenant to choose the right.   - it makes me strong
I covenant to be faithful to my husband.  - it makes me loyal
I covenant to always attend church.  - it makes me faithful
I covenant to teach my children every moment I can.  - it makes me useful
I covenant to give what I have to others.  - it makes me selfless
I covenant to go to the temple.  - it makes me devoted
I covenant to serve others.  - it makes me happy
I covenant to take care of my body.  - it makes me healthy
I covenant to speak kindly.  - it makes me gentle

I choose to try really hard.  That doesn't mean I am perfect and don't fail - because heaven knows I do.  But it means that when I fail, I know Christ is there waiting to pick me up and wipe me off and let me start again as soon as I am ready to ask for the help.  It means that when I fail, I am going to go right back to my covenants and try again.  Because that is what the part of me that is trying to be godly knows is best.  Make covenants and stick to them.  They are safety.  They are peace.  Maybe not in the moment but ultimately and eternally,  covenants are where I find God.

Slowing down

Yesterday was family pictures.  Always stressful.   I spent the whole day messing with clothes.  I did laundry, tried on clothes, did more laundry, looked for clothes that went together, looked for clothes  I couldn't find, did laundry some more and battled with Hailey over outfits.  We had a new photographer this year named Elena and she was legit.  She sent me info on "stylizing" our clothes for the "shoot".  I hadn't even considered that which is why I spent the whole day messing with clothes.  Geesh what a headache.  But by 3:00 I had 7 outfits that looked relatively good together and then it was time to get everyone cleaned up and out the door to the Riparian Preserve.  The Riparian is a nature preserve close to our house and it is lovely - even in the winter.

We met the photographer and took a million pictures.  First the family, then the kids together, then separate, then Hailey wanted one with the girls and Ivy wanted one with Dalton and the twins needed one together and then James & I and then more family photos.  And don't forget the dog - yes I was crazy enough to bring the dog who was understandably only interested in chasing the millions of rabbits at the preserve.  That added a bit of stress to say the least.  I was so afraid she'd get off her leash and never come back (which was a real possibility) that I put 2 leashes on her...  The boys kept running off to throw rocks in the pond and wrestle each other.  James kept wandering off to play a game on his phone.  The photographer kept calling for people who were nowhere around and the dog kept trying to bolt into the underbrush.  Somewhere during the shoot or perhaps before, I lost my sense of humor and went quietly to my happy place so I could handle the mass chaos around me.  My happy place on the outside looks really calm but inside it takes pretty much all my energy to like anyone around me.  And finally it was over.  I was sweating and the kids professed that to have been, "So much fun!".  Alternate universes are real.

Then it was off to dinner.  Mod pizza where everyone is happy.  Gluten free for those who need and all the amazing toppings you want.   Balsamic fig glaze and arugula for mom and massive amounts of Buffalo hot sauce for the twins.  Perfect.  It really is the Johnson Family Happy Place.  Ivy & Dalton charmed the cashier into offering them a free bottle of soda - happy kids.  It was peace at last.

Mom called me at Mod and asked if we wanted to come over after for FHE and watch a video of the Dutton family Variety show that they had just seen (they bought the DVD).  That was wonderful and a calming way to end the day.  We all love Nana & Bumpa's house.

Off to home at 8:30 to get the little ones in bed - quick!   So I could collapse into oblivion in my bed.  "Dalton - brush your teeth and hop into bed - quick!", I say.  Quick quick quick.  I want some time to myself.  Hurry.  Huryy.  Two minutes later (which is how long you should brush...), Dalton shows up at my feet with unbrushed teeth, a huge blanket and his homework (which hadn't been done).  "Mom, I have an idea!  How about we go in the backyard and look at the stars and cuddle and if there is enough light from the moon, I'll do my homework by moonlight!"   I think, "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?  The cold backyard is... cold and damp and dark and not my bed."  But, how could I resist that?  So we went to the backyard and layed out our blanket and covered up  with another blanket - to be joined by the now exhausted dog.  We talked and giggled and snuggled and told each other how much we loved each other and did homework by the amazing light of a very full moon.  Dalton saw a shooting star and Jetta was cozily tucked in between us.  It was beautiful and magical and slow.  At that moment, I didn't want any more of the day to go by quickly but I wanted to freeze that moment and bottle it.   Hold it and keep it forever.

I learn a lot from my kids.  Tonight my littlest taught me the beauty of slowing down and taking a minute to enjoy the moment.  I love that kid.

Grateful for that moment in time

20 some years ago I had a friend named Tripp who went to church with me in Tennessee.  We grew up going to stake dances together and he had dated one of my best friends.  Flash forward to winter of 1994 - we had both returned home from our missions.  We dated a bit here and there as friends at BYU and then we went home for Christmas.  While there, we hung out quite a bit and Tripp began to tell me about this friend of his who was thinking about running for student body president at BYU (Trip was the current vice president at BYU).  He talked this guy up and said that I would be a perfect running mate and should consider it.  I agreed to meet his friend and when Christmas break ended, Tripp and I went back to school.  Little did I know, I would marry that "friend" within the calendar year.

A week or so later, he introduced me to my prospective running mate - Jammin James Johnson.  He was cute and outgoing and shy all at the same time.  He was crazy around everyone but shy around me.  We began to attend the 6am meetings that all candidates must go to during the vetting process.  And we discovered that in order to run, we would have to give up things we didn't want to give up (for me it was teaching at the MTC and for James it was being an EFY counselor).  So after several weeks of meeting going together, we decided not to run.  Instead, we hooked up with 2 of the other candidates (Matt Cowley & Kami Hobbs) and helped run their campaign.  Thanks in no small part to our amazing efforts, they won.  And true to political nepotism, James was appointed Vice President over Activities and I was appointed Associate VP of Involvement.  We each got a scholarship and a cute little office on the 4th floor of the Wilkinson center which aligned and cemented our paths together.  All of this happened during the winter semester.  We saw each other every now and again as we bumped into each other on the 4th floor or attended a meeting for BYUSA.  Life was busy and hectic.  I was dancing on the Ballroom Dance team, teaching at the MTC, working for BYUSA and trying to be a full time student.  I was dating several guys and one quite steadily.  Life went on pretty normally till the spring.

Spring of 1994 was fast and furious and fun.  There was so much going on.  James asked me out for the first time that spring.  I was legitimately busy and couldn't go.  He asked me out again and again I had a conflict that I couldn't get out of.  Then again he pulled out all the stops and got 2 tickets to the James Taylor Concert at Sundance - could it get any better than that?  And again I couldn't make it (I was the maid of honor at my cousins wedding!).  I'm sure James wanted to move on but luckily he was persistent.  Though we couldn't find time to "date", being in BYUSA required us to attend a lot of "leadership activities" together.  They were bonding activities to help all the BYUSA officers work as a team.  We went to Timp Lodge, Aspen Grove, and on a rafting trip.  During these trips, we all hung out and did exactly what we were supposed to do, bond.  I was there.  James was there.  Our purpose in going was to bond and we did.  By the 4th of July, he asked me out and we actually went on a date.

That's when time sped up to almost an unbearable speed.  We went out again and again and fell in love.  And got married and had 5 kids and got grey hair and loved each other so so so much.  So today on my sweetheart's 44th birthday, I have to give pause to think about Tripp and the gratitude I feel for him placing me in the path of the man I love the most of all.   Without that little detour set up by Tripp, I feel I never would have had the occasion and opportunity to meet and date my husband.  Thanks Tripp.  I owe you big.

Fear

What do you fear the most?  I have been asked that question many times and my answer has to be the same each time:  For someone I love (most especially my children) to be kidnapped.  This fear is well founded.  Stories of children taken and held captive and exposed to every kind of depravity and abuse.  I can hardly stand to listen.  A child being taken from her bed at night... I set my home alarm religiously.  Could there be anything worse than loosing a child who is findable?  But you can't find them?

When I was first married, I had a dream that I was outside my house in Tennessee and I could hear one of my children crying for me up in the hills around the home.  They were gone but wanted me to find them but it was impossible - there was nothing to tell me which way to go or what direction to begin my search.  The voice was all around me and yet so impossible to discern.  A child - MY child needing and wanting to be saved and me unable to do anything.  I woke up crying - sobbing really and terrified.  I would rather my whole family be killed and for me to have to pick up the pieces and start again than for one of my children to be taken and not be able to save them.  The fear and not knowing would destroy me.  How could you ever stop looking?  How could you ever go on?  How could you do anything but be consumed by the obsession of finding and saving your child.  How could you take time away from your search to love your other children or to be happy without wondering if that were the exact moment you might have found a clue...?  The thought of it all terrifies me still as I write.

So how has this fear changed my life?  I watch my kids like a hawk.  I follow them home from a friend's house on their bike after dark in my car with my lights shining on them protecting them all the way home.  I dress them all in fourescent orange matching outfits at amusement parks to warn predators, "THESE ARE MINE, HANDS OFF, It will be super obvious if you try to separate a member of MY pack!".  I don't let my kids go places alone - the buddy system is omnipresent.  When my teenage daughter begs to meet a friend at In & Out Burgers at midnight (because everyone is doing that!) I allow it on condition there are 3 or more going, one has to be a boy and they have to pick her up.  Yup - I'm crazy like that.  And I pray.  I pray a lot that God will not every ask me to bear that burden.  I will love, give, serve, sacrifice, fight, or whatever God asks of me as long as he does not ask that.  And I pray for those who have been given that cross to bear - the cross that would break me.  

I know I can't protect my children from all danger and harm - nor do I attempt to.  But the one danger that would be unbearable to me (and them) I do all I can do to protect them and I always will.

Go argue with my mother

Hello.  My name is Tricia.   It is not TRISHA - it's TREEEESHA.

When I was little and would meet a new friend, I would say my name was Tricia and they would promptly parrot back the name Trisha.  Whatever.   In my world, she could call me whatever she wanted as long as she wanted to play.  But my mom always took a moment with each new friend to make sure they knew how to pronounce my name as if proper pronunciation was apparently vital to the survival of the name.  She would have them practice saying it properly several times before they were approved to play.  I usually wanted to crawl under a rock by the time the lesson was over but I learned that those who were to be in my life for a long time, took the time to pronounce my name correctly.

So by way of introduction, my name is Tricia.  Pronounced TREE SHUH.   If you would like to join the masses in telling me that is not the proper way to pronounce my name - please take it up with my mother.  Truly, I had nothing to do with it - though I must say, the pronunciation of it has grown on me over the years.