Snapshots of the Sacred Garden

Sadly, this garden has been uprooted. I'm glad I got a few pictures of it first.



I pray for my sister as she searches for a new place to plant.

Living in the Sticks

Yesterday I wanted to dye. Okay: not funny. But really, I wanted to dye some lace and in previous weeks I was unable to find dye in the color I wanted at any of the four stores that might possibly sell it in my area. I had even checked Walmart last time I was in the "city," but no taupe or cream or tan. This was no surprise to me since it seems Walmart never has what I need anymore. We've been on the outs for quite awhile now, but I'm thinking about divorcing Wally for good.

Anyway, so yesterday I made it my mission to search every grocery or department store in the "city," which is almost thirty miles from my house. I even stopped at a sparsely stocked shopping center on the way, with no luck. Then came the exercise workout of harnessing and unharnessing a one-year-old and two-year-old what felt like fifty times to all of us, not to mention carrying thirty pounds of wiggly until my arms ached. Lowe's? No. Kmart? No. Family Dollar? No. Smith's? No! (But I almost laughed out loud in the laundry aisle when I heard U2 empathetically singing from above, "And I still haven't found...what I'm looking for...")

So, after searching four stores in my town, and another four in the "city," I finally found tan dye in the fifth store, which I guess was really the ninth store.

I almost giggled.

Quoting the Cute: Page Seven

My oldest daughter said to me after I took away her toy for misbehaving: "When I grow up, I'm never gonna come visit you. You'll be sorry!" I turned from her and stifled a laugh, picturing my daughter as a grown woman refusing to visit me because I took away her sticky foot when she was six.

My two-year-old has the funniest vocabulary: lollipop (but she means soda pop), honeybird (but she means hummingbird), woman noodles (but she means Ramen noodles, which makes me laugh, especially because of this). I absolutely love the way she says her sister's name. A couple of weeks ago, she had a nasty cold and every time she'd cough and I'd sympathize, she'd say, "I not sick. I just sneezing a little."

My baby has gone verbal. He loves to say "hi!" (especially to strangers), sometimes "bye," but he loves "hi" the best. He says "uh-uh" instead of "uh-oh," and it's very endearing with his gravelly little boy voice (which is still so intriguing to me after two girls). His answer to literally everything is a whiny two-toned "no!" (even when he really means "yes"). As you can imagine, I can have a lot of fun with this.

I Remember

Yesterday as I sat in church, three children climbing over me, taking turns in my lap (sometimes two at a time), I kissed each one as they came close to me. With each kiss also came a silent prayer of gratitude to my Father in Heaven.

Ten years ago, every Sunday I sat quietly on a bench by my husband, often wiping tears as I turned my internal conversations to God. I prayed for a miracle. I prayed for a baby as I listened to the noise of all of the children around me.

With time (years), I began to pray for joy instead of babies. I clung to the hope that the loving atonement of my Savior could heal my aching mother heart, even if I never became a mother in this life. I prayed for strength to say, "Thy will be done" and really mean it.

God is love. The gift He gave to me, the answer to that prayer, is one of my greatest treasures (and I love that it is also a blessing to my children). I thank Him every day for my happiness: the happiness that comes because of Him, not because of them. My children do make me happy, yes! But I understand that the joy He gave to me (before I knew my children existed) is eternal.

It is a good thing, because I can see that they are going to grow up and go away long before I am ready!

Life's Messy Lessons

As a mother, I've witnessed how a lot of accomplishments come after a messy process. For example, when a toddler first begins self-feeding with a spoon, it never fails that more of the food ends up everywhere else than in the mouth. And don't even get me started about potty training...

And then there's learning to roller skate or ride a bike without training wheels...

Sometimes I forget that one of the main reasons I am here is to learn as I wallow down the muddy pathways or trails that seem to have more stumbling blocks than stepping stones.

In the end, all of those messy misses and painful crashes and overwhelming regrets add up to wisdom and the gratitude that only comes with hindsight.

It helps to know there is One who has taken this path before. He made it safely Home, and because of Him, I can too.



Proverbs 3: 5-6

"Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways, acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths."

Santa Has Magic

It was Christmas Eve and my one-year-old was the grumpiest I had ever seen him. He didn't want to eat or drink anything (except candy or cookies, but then he went right back to grumpy). He didn't want any toys. He didn't want to be held. He didn't want to be put down.

I anticipated the formal family Christmas Eve dinner and visit from Santa Claus with trepidation. How could any of us enjoy it with this loud-squawking child in the room? Shortly before dinner, he began rubbing his eyes. Even though it was way too late for a nap, I put him down for one anyway.

I enjoyed a lovely meal while he slept: prime rib, ham, Dixie Salad (our name for a fruit salad made mostly of pomegranates and apples), rolls, salmon salad, carrots, yams, creamed peas, fried rutabaga (the only thing on the table I don't like), mashed potatoes, gravy, and stuffing. My favorite things were the rolls, prime rib, mashed potatoes, and peas.

I had hoped the nap would cheer my baby, but he was still out of sorts when I gathered him from the portable crib. At this point I had given up on getting a picture of him sitting on Santa's lap. He was already at the age when my other children were afraid of Santa. Add that to the monster mood he was in, and you get a big NO WAY.

I was prepared to take him downstairs if it got out of hand. I didn't want him to ruin it for everyone else, especially the part where Santa testifies of the true reason for Christmas: the love of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Santa bounced into the room with bells on, and a bag almost as big as he was. My son watched from across the room as the big man plopped into the soft chair. The first gift Santa pulled from the bag had my son's name on it.

If my jaw could have hit the floor, it would have, because my baby ran across the room and climbed onto Santa's lap in pure excitement. In absolute trust of this stranger, he looked at the gift, then at the giver, and gave a nod that seemed to say "thank you."

How he even knew he was supposed to sit on Santa's lap and receive a gift is beyond me. He was still a newborn the last time he saw Santa, and he didn't see anyone else do it before him.

He ran to me from Santa's lap and was his normal, happy self the rest of the evening.

I could not have believed it if I had not seen it myself.

I believe in Santa. On Christmas Eve, 2010, I saw his magic with my own eyes!

O Christmas Trees

I hope I'm not loony, but last week when I looked at the Christmas tree after my girls got done decorating it, I could hear little voices in my head saying, "Hey guys! Climb down lower. Let's bail!"

I smiled when I realized there is even a train for them to make their get-away.

And while we are on the subject of Christmas trees, here is our tree from a few years ago:

This was the first tree I ever put lights on by myself, and because I didn't know what I was doing, I ended up putting every light we had on the thing (840, to be exact). Even though I am now better at spreading them out, I have to admit that I loved the way that tree GLOWED!

And to my dear friend who requested pictures of the candles on the tree, because we do not have candles on the tree this year (some trees just aren't good candle trees), I went into pre-digital photo days and found a couple to scan. The left picture is from before we got the lovely snowflakes and bells my mother-in-law crocheted for us. The right picture was the only one I could find where the candles were lit. I really wish I could just invite you over to see them, Tami!