To The Contributor

 I have not known what to call you until a few days ago. "Biological father" hasn't ever worked for me, mostly because I have already used that title for the man who raised me, and I have no reason to take it from him. I keep telling myself not to take it personally that you were willing to pay to have me killed. I understand that not all see abortion that way, and I have tried to be compassionate about why that seemed like a good option for you. But my compassion wasn't enough to bring the peace I have been wishing for. I ended up referring to you as the sperm donor, or by just using your name. 

By the way, I did a DNA test to confirm what we all guessed was true. My dad wondered about it when he noticed I looked more like you than I do him. It seems my mom always thought she knew. And from something my dad said you once remarked to him, maybe you believed it also: you are the contributor; the one who gave half of the DNA needed to create a human child who turned out to be me.

Since I learned about you more than twenty years ago, I think I have known (without admitting it until recently) that I need to forgive you. For my own sake, not for yours, because I'm guessing your life went on just as it would have if I had been killed or never existed in the first place. Sometimes I wonder if I need to forgive you for the things about me that I don't understand, or for the things that are wrong with me. Yet I believe self-awareness and responsibility are stronger than DNA, so is that really necessary?

When I get in dark places I wonder if it was inevitable that I find myself there, for I think you have often been in dark places. As far as I know, you only fathered one other child, a son who died a year or two ago by suicide. I was hoping to meet him someday, to see if we had anything in common, and I have often wondered if he could use a big sister like me; it's something I am good at. I don't know anything about the impact his death had on you. I just know it has brought a strange sadness to me that is hard to describe. I don't know how to grieve for someone I know nothing about. 

It's time for me to forgive you, for so many reasons. I need to forgive you because how could you have known that that time would make a baby? And how could you have known that offering to pay for an abortion would offend me? I have a father, one I would not trade for anyone, so your choice should not bother me. And just as I did not choose my DNA, you did not choose yours. You did not choose to be the child of an alcoholic father any more than I did. There is no good in dwelling on things I cannot control. 

The most important reason I need to forgive you is because of the love of our Savior. Jesus Christ made an offering for both of us, to heal us from all hurt if we are willing to let Him do it. I trust Him, His care, His perspective, and His power. I no longer want to let my heart live like His offering was not enough for me. It is enough for the entire human race, why did I think my part was bigger than that? 

I do forgive you. I am sorry that I held unkind feelings about you for so long. And I am sorry for lacking the faith it took to trust my Heavenly Parents for all the things that really matter. I am comforted in knowing that They are quick to forgive, because Their love for Their children is infinite, yet complete.

 I do wish good things for you. I hope you find that same peace I have been searching for.

Love Always, 

A Daughter

Quoting the Cute: Page Twenty-Three

 So. I haven't written for a very long time and my kids are growing up way too fast! Part of this is an old post that never got posted. Some of the quotes are already three years old!

When my oldest daughter (Kitty) was twelve, she said, "Everyone is afraid of walking skeletons even though we are ALL walking skeletons." When she was a year older, she started saying, "I'm dead inside." All the time. It was alarming to her parents and teachers, but she just thought it was funny. I remember being thirteen, so I think I get it. She is now almost fifteen. One day I was telling her that she is totally her father's daughter and she just said in a serious voice, "I should hope so." It made me laugh all day!

My youngest daughter (Honeybird) is eleven and still thinks it's cute to baby talk. I've been trying to convince her that it isn't, although I secretly have to admit that it is pretty cute sometimes! For awhile, it had rubbed off on to all of her siblings, even her older sister. Now that Kitty's at the high school, she has given it up, but I still have to remind her brothers how old they are all the time! When Honeybird was ten, she hit me in the face with a rubber band. I said, "Why would you do that?!?" And she said, "I didn't think it would hit you. I'm not that good of aim." Part of why this is so funny is because she's such a sweet kid, I know she didn't really WANT to hit me, but it sounds like she did because of how she said what she said!

My oldest son (King) always wants to be in charge, so if there is ever an opportunity to tell someone what to do, he is your man! He is almost ten now and one day this year when we were reading the Bible, he said, "I know what it means to commit adultery. It's when you blah, blah, blah when you're not married."

My youngest son (Fish) is now almost eight. When he was five, he used to always say, "I want suffing else." And a few times at that age, he would say something like, "I've been waiting for six thousand, ninety-eight days and you still haven't given me my birthday!" When he was six, we went for a hike where we met a small group of big horn sheep. Shortly down the trail, Fish slipped and fell in the mud. He was walking with his fingers curled and acting like he was so grossed out. I told him not to worry, that the mud would dry and just fall off. Then he said, "Yeah, but the problem is, 50% of it is big horn sheep poop!" Recently, he was asking me if he was hatched from an egg in my belly. I explained the best I could in the moment and told him that half of him came from his dad and half from me. Then he asked, "Was it the top half or the bottom half?" I still have a lot of explaining to do...

Quoting the Cute: Page Twenty-Two

My eleven-year-old daughter has grown up so much in this last year, it's a little alarming. One thing I am really enjoying about this change is that she's starting to laugh at my jokes.

At church, my eight-year-old daughter's teacher remarked at how smart their class was, so Honeybird answered, "it's cuz we're in second grade." It made the grown-ups laugh.

I asked my six-year-old if he was learning "America the Beautiful" for school, because he had been singing it from a paper. He responded, "Yes, we are going to sing it to the vegetarians."

I hesitate to share this quote, because it goes against a rule I made when I started this blog many years ago. Never say "poop." Or "poopy." But, it was so funny that night not long ago when our four-year-old spoke up what was on his mind at dinner: "Diarrhea is just poop that's all squished up."

I can't think of a quote for my eleven-year-old, so I'm going to tell her favorite joke: 

An elderly lawyer was about to die. One day he told his wife he had come up with a way to take all of the money he had with him to heaven. He told his wife to put all of his money in the attic so when he died he could grab it on the way up.
A couple of weeks after he died his wife was cleaning out the attic and saw that the money bags were still there. "That old fool," she chuckled. "I told him that we should have put the money in the basement!"

Last year my eight-year-old always started her school journal, "Oh, hello," which I think is so cute. Here is an entry from March 19, 2015: "Oh, hello, today I am EXSOSTED! Because yesterday I tripped and scraped my arm. My mom put burn spray on it. I did not like it and I was NOT happy!"

One day while I was napping and my husband was "watching" the kids, my youngest child drew some Easter drawings and then glued them to the dining room wall. When I noticed it the next day at dinner he said, "But you runned out of tape." It was so cute I couldn't be upset. A few weeks later we were talking about someday selling our house and my six-year-old son said, "We can't sell the house. There are pictures glued to the wall."

One morning I asked my four-year-old son if he wanted egg toast and he said, "Yes, but no egg." Now almost every day he tells me he wants his toast not to be toasted.

I found this quote on Pinterest that sums up how I feel right now: "Before we used to pass the time, but now the time is passing us." -Shushant Mojumdar

Quoting the Cute: Page Twenty-One

When my ten-year-old was maybe eight, she had a pair of toy handcuffs. They were equipped with a safety release feature just in case the keys got lost. She told us, "You can tell the people who made these really cared about people."

My seven-year-old is very quiet. In a house full of loud voices, her voice is not often heard. I have a hard time thinking of quotes for her!

My five-year-old still says "hadded" instead of "had." If he's still saying it when he finishes Kindergarten, I guess I'll have to start reminding him, but for now, I'm hanging on to the last bit of my big hunk's littlehood. 

Three-year-old: "Yes dem is!" or "See? I teld ya!"

Last year I couldn't help but giggle when my oldest daughter said something about the "pom pom trees" when we were in Southern Utah.

My seven-year-old loves to write. She especially loved it when she was in Kindergarten (see below). I'm always saving her papers because of the funny things she writes. I should dig some out and start posting my favorites!

I've quoted this with a different kid, but now it seems like my five-year-old's favorite thing to say is, "It's not fair!"

Three-year-old: "I want to watch a DDD!"

Ruelene

I don't remember exactly when Ruelene came into my life, but I know it was in my early teen years. I became friends with a sweet girl named Anna and even though I don't remember the first time I went to her house, I remember feeling loved when I was there.

Anna's family was tall. Anna and her sister had their mother's dark eyes and thick dark brown hair. Whenever I was in their home, I could feel the love in the air like a warmth that radiates from a crackling fire in the fireplace. Sure, there was teasing: Anna had five brothers after all, but I never felt contention, even when I was there all weekend. Ruelene used to make the most amazing taco salad in the biggest bowl I had ever seen in my life!

There was a program at school that focused on helping kids whose parents had not gone to college. I joined this group and Ruelene happened to be the counselor over it. She had an office at the high school and I used to stop in to see her. Whether I was visiting her because I was sad or happy, she always had a warm hug for me. Her voice was soothing and gentle. She shed tears with me over my sorrows and she laughed when I was excited about something. I still remember the sound of her laugh twenty years later.

She was diagnosed with leukemia not long before I graduated from a two-year college. The last time I saw her, she still sat tall and smiled happily as she told me about the hope she had. She was going to have a bone marrow transplant and believed it would save her life. Sadly, she only lived another two years but she never gave up her trust in God. She was only 54. Her daughters both got married and became mothers without their own mother to join in their joy on this earth.

Yet we know she rejoiced in Heaven, and it only seems fitting that she would give one of those warm hugs to each grandchild before their spirits were sent to her children's homes.

I will never forget the impact Ruelene had on my young and troubled growing heart. She will always stand tall among the great women in my life.

We are eternal. I can't wait to embrace Ruelene once again. I will thank her for what she taught me and we will stand side by side and survey the ripple effect her kindness had on the world.

Quoting the Cute: Page Twenty

Ten-year-old daughter: "What? Is falling against the law now?"

My seven-year-old daughter said a silent prayer over her lunch at school and her teacher told her, "I love that you are so sweet."

Five-year-old son at the grocery store: "Mom, I have five words for you: Mine wegs are tie-yerd!"

Three-year-old son watching fireworks: "That scared me out of my crap!"

When we took my oldest daughter to the zoo for the first time (I think she was four) she told me that her favorite animals at the zoo were the "scrumpions" and the fish with no eyes. I was surprised and amused.

We asked our kids if they were excited to go to the mountains to gather firewood. Our seven-year-old daughter said, "Yes! I can't wait to find turkeys and bears and snakes!"

One day my five-year-old stuck his head in the door of the bathroom and said, "Mom, we're all counting on you." Then he stuck his head in again two or three seconds later and said, "I mean, we're all waiting for you."

My husband was talking to me one night at dinner and said that now that our youngest is potty-trained, he wishes we could freeze them. Of course, this was confusing to my three-year-old so when I tried to explain he burst into tears, "But I don't want to stay a little boy forever!!!" Luckily I was able to calm him quickly, reassuring him that we have no power to stop time...and the fact we are getting old too fast proves it.

My ten-year-old daughter is really starting to use her sense of humor. The other day, I told her to get the lid for the butter and put it in the fridge. So she got the lid and put the lid in the fridge. I told her she wasn't funny, but I couldn't keep from laughing.

When my seven-year-old was a toddler, she used to call hummingbirds "honeybirds." She flutters with her hands when she is happy, and has done this since she was tiny. Because of these things, I call her Honeybird.

I asked my five-year-old son what he likes most about school and he told me he likes everything about school, but he likes recess the best. I hope this never changes!

My three-year-old son says "mont-sir" for "monster" and draws them like this:

Someone tell me how to freeze time!

If a Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

One late summer day, we took our four children into the mountains to gather firewood. We hadn't gathered firewood as a family in many years, so I planned to take the camera and take a few pictures. But because I planned to take it, I forgot it.

This reminds me of the first time I went to the zoo. I was an adult and I had never been to the zoo. My husband took me there before we had kids and I was so excited. But I forgot the camera. I still remember the "click" sound my husband made with his pretend camera as we walked around the park...

So as my children and I sat on a long, smooth log for a lunch break of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, I noticed we were sitting tallest to shortest and wished I had my camera. I thought about how I wanted to remember that day, the way all of the children (ages three to ten) helped to carry firewood to the truck. And how cute my three-year-old boy looked bouncing on a young tree that had been bent to the ground by a fallen tree. I wanted to remember how excited we all were to see wild turkeys for the first time, and recall the simple joy of seeing a deer or a butterfly.

And then the thought came to me that I could write about it. I asked myself, "If a picture is worth a thousand words, does that mean a thousand words is worth a picture?" 

I want to remember how my husband and I agreed that baby cows are so cute and how strange that is since grown-up cows are not cute at all. I want to remember how my five-year-old son tried to convince his siblings that if we didn't lean away from the side of the vehicle closest to the drop-off over the side of the mountain road, then we would surely tumble over the edge. I want to remember how good it felt when  my husband and I worked as partners, without words, to remove the dead trees while the sound of the chain saw rang in our ears. The air was fresh except for those few whiffs of skunk, the day was cool enough to be able to work in our long sleeves without wilting, and the happy chatter of our kids was worth the hour-long drive to the gathering spot. As we bounced around in the truck on the rock-covered road, we started learning the words to "Away in a Manger" even though it is only August.

I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming gratitude for the chance to have a family and to share this world with such amazing little people. It was a good day. One for the photo albums!