potty talk

Yesterday afternoon. The first piano lesson of the day.

9 year old piano student: Oh, I am so hot. I ran all the way here. I need some water or something.

She gulps down the glass of water I hand her.

9 year old piano student: Thanks, a lot. Oh, I am so hot.

Me: Well cool yourself down. Sit down and—

9 year old piano student: (She blurts out) Can I use your bathroom?

Me: ‘Course.

Minutes later she returns to the piano bench.

9 year old piano student: Guess what?

(Before I can guess she informs me): I have constipation.

Me: Really. Well, well.

9 year old piano student: Yup, I have to take mineral oil for it.

Me: Oh. Well. (I couldn’t resist). How is that working out for you?

9 year old piano student: Not too well. I have to like sit on the toilet for like an hour a day.

Me: Start your scales, Hadley.

because i knew you..i have been changed for good

Sad doings yesterday. The school year is over. Testimony meeting had Bishop ld tearfully sharing: We don’t cry because it’s over, but smile because it happened. He even quoted Tennyson’s (okay at my urging) I am a part of all I have ever met.

Then a student read the lyrics to the hymn Each Life that Touches Ours for Good in their testimony. And so it went. We love these kids. They are wonderfully endearing.

Things got a tad bit weird though, when a girl in her testimony quoted lyrics of a song from the Broadway musical Wicked (For Good). Would have been okay except she sorta forgot the words and so a MDT (Musical/Dance/Theater) major sitting in the congregation helped her out by blurting out the words. Out loud. In Sacrament meeting.

Only at BYU.

More sweet testimonies followed. Later that night at our final ward prayer we watched a slideshow of our time together. The Relief Society had prepared little momentos for each member of the Bishopric. Leave it to the RS gals to always be so thoughtful.

Sniffling on the ride home ld and I talked about this past school year. We have loved serving together and have grown so much. We also are cognizant of our good fortune as we have been pretty spoiled with a freshman ward. They are so enthusiastic and impressionable. But we sent them off with love and hugs and now it begins all over again. Sunday we begin with a whole new crop of students from a new and affluent apartment complex. They are not freshman but rich upperclassman. I told ld to consider it like a missionary transfer. Whole ‘nother set of dynamics. But there will be some within his influence, I am sure.

Did I mention that my husband is one terrific Bishop?

I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you...

But because I knew you
I have been changed for good

It well may be
That we will never meet again
In this lifetime
So let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend...

Because I knew you..
I have been changed for good.
(lyrics "For Good" from the musical Wicked) he he he

;lkjd djkl

The words I miss most from my mother's lips: All will be well.

I would give anything to hear her lovingly say that to me again, as she so often would, when I was troubled or lacked faith. The words themselves, coupled with her soothing voice, could calm and restore hope like nothing else. Who, I wonder, said the words to her, when she faced her own fears, demons, disappointments and heartache? She was better at listening to the Spirit than I am, no doubt.

Max Lucado (Fearless) says basically the same thing:

Everything will work out in the end. If it is not working out, it’s not the end.


This is helpful. Sort of. But I am tired and impatient and sad. It's time for the gulls.

It’s time, Father,

For the gulls, I think.




My arms shake

From flailing my field.

I sink,

Broken as the little stalks

Beneath their devouring burden.



I yield it all to you,

Who alone can touch all things.

It’s time, Father,

For the gulls.



I will be still,

And listen for their wings.
(Carol Lynn Pearson, “Time for the Gulls,” New Era, Oct. 1976, 50

)

The weariness and helplessness I feel is not unique to me, I know that. I just want things to work out in the end and I want the end right now.

The fictional *Reverend Maclean expresses my familial frustration best:

Each one of us here today will at one time in our lives look upon a loved one who is in need and ask the same question: We are willing to help, Lord, but what, if anything, is needed? For it is true we can seldom help those closest to us. Either we don't know what part of ourselves to give or, more often than not, the part we have to give is not wanted. And so it is those we live with and should know who elude us. But we can still love them - we can love completely without complete understanding.

(*From the book/film A River Runs Through It)

too beautiful this year

A little past 8 pm last night ld and I left the temple. I hadn't been to the Provo one in years. The sunset and view, breathtaking. The sun had slipped below the horizon and only a faint glow remained. The lights from the city were on. So lovely. And for once this season the weather was just right, as it should be, Spring-like. My guy asked me if I was up for a Root beer float.
Of course. We settled on a cherry lime freezee-drink-something from Sonic.

I woke up this morning to the sweet memory of a beautiful last night.
A little Edna St. Vincent Millay, then. She talks of Fall, I feel this about my Spring.

God's World
O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!
Thy winds, thy wide grey skies!
Thy mists that roll and rise!
Thy woods, this autumn day, that ache and sag
And all but cry with colour! That gaunt crag
To crush! To lift the lean of that black bluff!
World, World, I cannot get thee close enough!
Long have I known a glory in it all,
But never knew I this;
Here such a passion is
As stretcheth me apart. Lord, I do fear
Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year.
My soul is all but out of me, let fall
No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call.

Remember, people. April is National Poetry month. Celebrate.
http://www.poets.org/page.php/prmID/41

this got me out of bed

The whole time at Zions I could not get this piece out of my head. Weird. And then this morning I woke up to it again. Enough already. Sheesh.

Here's Andre Rieu and his adaptation. I would post the original orchestral version but you remember it's over 18 minutes long, people. Once this melody gets stuck in your head you're done for. Nothing to do but give in to its madness. Which is what many music scholars say Ravel was when he wrote it. Listen for the sudden key change at about 6:10. I defy you to remain un-frenzied.

Maurice Ravel's Bolero.

gospel doctrine list

A couple of weeks ago someone in my ward called and asked me for a list of lesson helps. This is the list I gave her. It’s not exhaustive by any means but has helped my lesson preparation immeasurably, not to mention my own personal scripture study.

But first, read this:
It’s excellent and a must read if you’re really serious about teaching.
http://timesandseasons.org/index.php/2006/03/how-to-teach-a-scripture-passage/

Church’s sites:
http://scriptures.lds.org/
http://lds.org/ldsorg/v/index.jsp?vgnextoid=e419fb40e21cef00VgnVCM1000001f5e340aRCRD
lds.org. Duh.

Scripture commentaries:
http://www.gospeldoctrine.com/
Really nice site.

Lesson plans/outlines:
http://beardall2000.com/gospdoct.shtml
http://www.neumanninstitute.org/
http://www.duanescrowther.com/
(click on the lesson helps section)
http://www.ldsgospeldoctrine.net/
(click on the left under the year)
http://kevinhinckley.com/Gospel_Doctrine_Classes.html
(lessons are in powerpoint)
http://gospel-doctrine.com/
http://erichsen.home.bresnan.net/
http://www.ldslessonplans.com/
http://www.ldsgospeldoctrine.net/bwc/bwc-gd.html
(lessons are in pdf form)

FAIR and FARMS
http://www.fairblog.org/
http://maxwellinstitute.byu.edu/
Note: Farms is no more. It’s now the Maxwell Institute

Collective/group blogs:
has a whole archive section of great lesson questions
http://timesandseasons.org/index.php/category/features/lessons-all/
http://www.nothingwavering.org/posts/tag/lesson/lds-blogs/
http://feastuponthewordblog.org/
http://feastuponthewordblog.org/category/lessonssun-school/
http://feastupontheword.org/The_Old_Testament

Individual blogs:
http://ideawarehouse.blogspot.com/
http://gospeldoctrineplus.blogspot.com/
http://www.keepapitchinin.org/topical-guide/
to find stories to replace old worn out ones

LDS Magazines (click on Gospel Doctrine section):
http://www.ldsliving.com/sunday-lessons.html
http://www.meridianmagazine.com/
http://mormonlife.com/section/lesson

BYU stuff:
http://eom.byu.edu/index.php/Encyclopedia_of_Mormonism
Encyclopedia of Mormonism
http://speeches.byu.edu/
http://byustudies.byu.edu/
http://www.lib.byu.edu/sites/mormonstudies/
http://web.byui.edu/DevotionalsandSpeeches/
http://scriptures.byu.edu/
(like it for finding talks related to a particular scripture theme, and also for seeing what verses are cited the most often in General Conference. Awesome site).
http://byustudies2.byu.edu/hc/hcpgs/hc.aspx
History of the Church. Complete volumes

Other sources:
(some good scholarly sites, not LDS, but a wealth of background into biblical times. Also, the other editions of the bible help clarify difficult passages)
http://www.israelrevealed.com/supplements/index.html
(Daniel Rona’s site. LDS guy, converted from Judaism)
http://www.jewfaq.org/index.htm
http://www.biblegateway.com/
http://bible.org/netbible/index.htm
http://www.soniclight.com/constable/notes.htm

more sermonizing. not for you. for me.

Note: I wrote this post a long, long time ago and then deleted it. I can't remember why. Possibly because it was rambly and long. Found it today and am posting it for real. I am fond of preaching to myself.

Jeff’s recent thoughtful post has stirred me up. I knew one of the men he was talking about, for a while they lived down the street from us and Mother befriended his young wife. They were a young, hopeful couple and seemed especially enthused about the gospel. I remember the young man bearing his testimony and mentioning how grateful he was that his wife saw fit to ‘hitch her wagon to his star’ and marry him. I was a terribly romantic adolescent then and the words made me swoon. Oh yes, I remember them. So sad to hear that life did not give that family all they had hoped and wished for. And then his untimely death, that just stinks. Especially contrasted with the other more prominent death.

Many emotions rise to the surface. I like to think that it is noble of me to care so much about and feel such a sense of injustice. But truth be told, there is something else that keeps bubbling up in all this. Something I dare not admit as it is proof again of my shallowness.
It’s hard not to feel a teeny bit bitter, jealous, and resentful of the man who died with it all – success, fame, money and righteousness to boot. I am sure he had his struggles, but all we see is that. This seeming unfairness, well it rankles me a bit. There I said it.
How dare he lead a charmed, smooth life, adored and admired by so many! And here’s more of the ugly truth: Who doesn’t want lots of people singing their praises and lauding their achievements at their funeral? Who doesn’t want it splashed throughout the newspapers that a good man (or woman) has died and will be sorely missed?

We all want that, don’t we? It is proof that our life mattered, that we had worth. That we were respected. This is the rub for me and the awful truth, maybe for you, too. We simply love the good opinion of others, crave it in fact. And this obsession/need comes cloaked in respectability. I want to give off that I have it all together, that I belong to an ‘Ensign family’, and I expect to be rewarded for all my efforts, both spiritual and temporal. There is shame in admitting this, but there it is. Now don’t get me wrong, wanting respectability is not wholly a bad thing. Not at all. But taken to extremes and left unchecked it can cause us to appear rather than to actually be. And that is not good. In fact, the Savior had quite a bit to say about this.

Now I know you are all thinking ‘this is not what JLA was meaning at all in his post’. I get that, people. I always go from point A and wind up around W. But, for me, point W is usually where the truth lies. At any rate, through all this, I was reminded of a talk that I have loved all these years. Perhaps I have loved it because it speaks to my insecurities and makes clear what really, really matters.

Elder Packer (Boyd K. Packer, “The Choice,” Ensign, Nov. 1980, 20):

…remember this: It is the misapprehension of most people that if you are good, really good, at what you do, you will eventually be both widely known and well compensated. It is the understanding of almost everyone that success, to be complete, must include a generous portion of both fame and fortune as essential ingredients. The world seems to work on that premise. The premise is false. It is not true. The Lord taught otherwise.

I want you…to know this truth:
You need not be either rich or hold high position to be completely successful and truly happy. In fact, if these things come to you, and they may, true success must be achieved in spite of them, not because of them.

And then this:
…the choice of life is not between fame and obscurity, nor is the choice between wealth and poverty. The choice is between good and evil, and that is a very different matter indeed.

…Wealth and prominence do not always come from having earned them. Our worth is not measured by renown or by what we own.

We may foolishly bring unhappiness and trouble, even suffering upon ourselves. These are not always to be regarded as penalties imposed by a displeased Creator. They are part of the lessons of life, part of the test.
Some are tested by poor health, some by a body that is deformed or homely. Others are tested by handsome and healthy bodies; some by the passion of youth; others by the erosions of age.
Some suffer disappointment in marriage, family problems; others live in poverty and obscurity.
Some (perhaps this is the hardest test) find ease and luxury.
All are part of the test, and there is more equality in this testing than sometimes we suspect.
It is possible to be both rich and famous and at the same time succeed spiritually. But the Lord warned of the difficulty of it when He talked of camels and needles (see Matt. 19:24).

He goes on:

What, then, do we want you to do? Simply this:
Be good!
Study the gospel.
Live it!
Stay active in the Church.
Receive the ordinances.
Keep your covenants.

Hmm. There it is. Everyone speaks of death being the great equalizer, and it is. But the truth is it is covenants, both made and kept, that put us all on equal footing and eliminate any need for comparing or being jealous. Keeping covenants (and that really means discipleship as well) is well within the realm of all us.
If, when I die, that is all that can be said about me, then all will be well and good. Because somewhere away from the crowds, and the well attended funerals and the respectability we have so carefully crafted around ourselves, somewhere, sometime the truth about us will come out. The Lord will judge, in both justice and in mercy, how we each fared.

love crucified arose

The Easter parading and egg hunts are over. Enjoyed Easter dinner but everyone has gone home. ld headed off to Ward Prayer and I am alone now with my thoughts.

ld and I first discovered Michael Card years ago. Such a gifted Christian songwriter and yeah he's pop and I don't usually like religious pop. 'Cept for this guy. Some of my favorites- Joseph's Song, Immanuel, The Gentle Healer, and Joy in the Journey. Though not of our faith he directs the heart to the Savior with such insight and sincerity.


And this one remains a favorite.

easter hattery

hotel sewing

ld had his annual work conference at Zion's again. I tagged along, only this year I brought my sewing machine. Yup. I sewed while ld attended meetings. I finished these bunny slippers. I wish the pic were clearer. I'll post a better one when I can sneak them off Cate's feet.

You should make them. They are ridiculously easy. The free pattern found here:
http://www.p2designs.com/images/patterns/sox-FrogSlipper.html
I made them into bunnies, but you could turn them into any animal really.

I wanted to make Cate a barnyard play mat for Easter. I cut up an old tablecloth and came up with a mud hole, corral, pond and garden (complete with carrots). The barn bag holds all her little animals along with the mat.


The only thing missing is a tractor. When I find one cheap and small enough, I'll add that.


Cate loves it. Makes me happy.

ze most important part of ze wedding ez ze kek*

Me and my posse posing beside the cake we all created for Mallory's wedding. These ladies were fantastic to work with and show much promise as cake decorators. Love you, Stace and Syd!

The wedding was so lovely and with such attention to detail. The great buffet, the ancestor photo table, the vintage wedding dresses displayed, the Balloon strewn dance floor, the pom pomery, and the Candy table (my fav) - it was all so charming and festive and bore further proof that the Larry Arnett gals have some serious event planning skills.

*Franck Egglehofer (Martin Short) from Father of the Bride.

monday share

Check out incharacter. http://incharacter.org/

This article confirms what I have long held to be true: self-esteem is poppycock. But self-respect, well, that is an entirely different matter.

This:
...the self-esteemist demands the recognition of others - "respect," in the lexicon of the slum hoodlum - in order to prop up his self-esteem. Unfortunately for him, the world of others still usually insists upon some kind of achievement before according recognition: achievement in a broad sense, but achievement nonetheless. But the self-esteemist wants to skip this arduous requirement; the result is that he is an angry and bitter soul.

There's more. Go read it. The last few paragraphs pack a punch. Why I need to crawl out of my jammies before noon and quit wearing sweatpants to the store. Read the whole article, it's searingly true.

For many years I believed that how a man dressed was unimportant; it was the man within that counted, not the man without. My belief excused me for being myself rather scruffily dressed, which was very easy and convenient for me in terms of effort required. But I now think that I was mistaken, for it does not follow from the fact that outward appearance is not all-important that it is of no importance at all.

The small matter of cleaning one's shoes, for example, is not one of vanity alone, though of course it can be carried on to the point of vanity and even obsession and fetish. It is, rather, a discipline and a small sign that one is prepared to go to some trouble for the good opinion and satisfaction of others. It is a recognition that one lives in a social world. That is why total informality of dress is a sign of advancing egotism.

Self-respect requires fortitude, one of the cardinal virtues; self-esteem encourages emotional incontinence that, while not actually itself a cardinal sin, is certainly a vice, and a very unattractive one. Self-respect and self-esteem are as different as depth and shallowness.

The whole thoughtful article can be found here:
http://incharacter.org/features/theodore-dalrymple-on-self-esteem-vs-self-respect/

this from RS today

The lesson was on the Creation so you can see the topic veered. I am glad. I needed the reminder.

What you do speaks so loud that I cannot hear what you say.

Ralph Waldo Emerson



How you treat your spouse.

How you take care of yourself.

How you speak to others.

What's important to you.

How you handle stress.

How you cope with hardship.

Who you spend time with.

What you spend your time on.

Your order of priorities.

How you speak of others.

What you value.

What you don't value.

Having a checklist mentality is probably not the best way to measure or gauge progress in discipleship. Still what we do day in day out reflects who we are. And who we are influences others, whether we wish to or not. The checklist is sobering.

upcoming

So I've been in touch with our resident family event planner (Linds) and we're hoping we can have an Easter gathering while some of the fam are in town for Mallory's wedding. I'm thinking along the lines of a traditional egg hunt, maybe hat parade in honor of Grandma Ethel and then possibly this:

Easter Bum decorating. Would give whole new meaning to Booty Charades, eh?

a mouse moral

Yesterday one of the featured books during Storytime at the library was Seven Blind Mice by Ed Young. Puppets made the telling absolutely delightful. We were fortunate as the volunteer story teller happened to be an accomplished puppeteer. Cate loved the big reveal at the end.

In the story seven little mice each examine a different part of the elephant and decide they know what the object is. However, it isn’t until the seventh mouse runs across, around, up, and down – over the entire elephant that its true identity is discovered.

The story ends with the moral: “Knowing in part may make a fine tale, but wisdom comes from seeing the whole.”

Seven Blind Mice is a great little book for many reasons. The color references, the days of the week, and the ordinal numbers all lead to great teaching lessons. The reference to the obvious moral that we don’t always see the “big picture” and make incorrect judgements, that's easy. But I think equally important is to note and discuss that the mice were blind. Their blindness kept them from seeing the whole picture.

Spiritual blindness can cause us to reject the truth until we become satisfied and smug to exist in the darkness of our own incomplete perceptions. Perceptions are not always the truth. Each mouse in the story was happy to believe that the elephant was something else. At least, until another mouse, who had a different idea and perspective, challenged his perception and then the very state of his blindness was revealed.

I have to remind myself, so many times, that what I know about God and the gospel is limited. My understanding is mortal. He has only given enough information to get back home. I can live with that. But I love the idea that someday we will see more clearly instead of through a glass darkly and the mortal perceptions we formed that caused us to be confused sometimes, caused us pain even, will be seen through new eyes.

The journey to knowing God of course is through His Son, the healer of the blind. But then over and over, the Lord tells us that 'walking by sight' is not one of the essential senses required in this life. There is another sense more powerful than sight we are to develop here. Faith, the kind born by the spirit, can inform us and help us see clearly. But that is unexplainable to some.

It's also good to remember that just because others challenge our perceptions doesn't mean they see the whole either. In fact, most often they do not. I'm reminded of this firestorm: http://spectator.org/archives/2009/03/16/god-exists-and-hes-mormon
It makes me laugh. The comments generated. Oh. My.

All this from Storytime at Orem Public Library. he he he

geese and glazed bricks

4 am one January morning my mother gently woke me.
It’s time, she said. Hurry your dad’s waiting out in the truck. I numbly pulled on my clothes and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. No time to eat anything, I was promised there would be donuts later.

I stumbled out to the truck in the dark and slipped into the seat beside my mother. The excitement was palpable. We were going to watch the geese in Cibola. My mother had arranged an expedition with a few of her school teaching colleagues, Mrs. Arnold, Mrs. McCreary and another teacher I can’t remember. These ladies were bird watchers extraordinaires and had recruited my mother to join them in their pursuits. But my mother out bird watched them all by pulling this coup. This was high excitement, to see these special geese in Cibola. My Dad, of course, was slightly amused by all this but as always supportive of my mother in all her activities and interests. He drove the truck to Mrs. McCreary’s place where these ladies sat excitedly in the car, clutching their binoculars and waiting for us to show up. They were to follow us to Cibola where my Dad would lead them to where the geese were.

Judging from all the excited chatter, and the whoops and exclamations, the outing was a huge success. My mom earned her bird watching credentials that day and officially became a member of the bird watching teachers club and thereby a member of Blythe intelligentsia.

I did not appreciate then the sacrifices one must make to be a woman of substance. As we sneakily crept up on our bellies with binoculars pressed to our eyes, I didn’t know this was the price one paid. And my Dad watching, amusedly for sure, from a distance. Waiting patiently until they had had their fill of geese. Geese he had seen a thousand times before.

On the ride home he asked me how I liked the birds. Okay, I shrugged. He smiled. I laid my head on my mom’s lap and ate my doughnut.

I happened to think of all this because this morning I came across one of my mom’s scrapbooks. She kept old spiral notebooks and pasted quotes or stories she loved.
This was before blogging, people. Think what her blog would have been, eh?

Anyway. Glued onto a page was this story. Yeah, I know you’ve heard it many times and it’s truthfulness has been questioned. Still. My mom loved it, I see now why. She believed in the principle it teaches. Though her circumstances and environment were limited in Blythe, she always tried to find a way to thrive, to grow. She lived nearly 30 years in the same place and as I sit here, me living in the same place, same house for 30 years I can relate and I appreciate so much her ability to have a rich inner life. She was a woman of substance and thought. She sat on ‘glazed bricks’ all her life but found gladness and things she liked to do. So many things came fairly easy to her, and when she finished, she had more energy than when she started.

The story:

The famed naturalist of the last century, Louis Agassiz, was lecturing in London and had done a marvelous job. An obviously bright little old lady, but one who did not seem to have all the advantages in life, came up and was spiteful. She was resentful and said that she had never had the chances that he had had and she hoped he appreciated it. He took that bit of lacing very pleasantly and turned to the lady and, when she was through, said, "What do you do?"
She said, "I run a boarding house with my sister. I'm unmarried."
"What do you do at the boarding house?"
"Well, I skin potatoes and chop onions for the stew. We have stew every day."
"Where do you sit when you do that interesting but homely task?"
"I sit on the bottom step of the kitchen stairs."
"Where do your feet rest when you sit there on the bottom step?"
"On a glazed brick."
"What's a glazed brick?"
"I don't know."
"How long have you been sitting there?"
"Fifteen years."
Agassiz concluded, "Here's my card. Would you write me a note when you get a moment about what a glazed brick is?"
Well, that made her mad enough to go home and do it. She went home and got the dictionary out and found out that a brick was a piece of baked clay. That didn't seem enough to send to a Harvard professor, so she went to the encyclopedia and found out that a brick was made of vitrified kaolin and hydrous aluminum silicate, which didn't mean a thing to her. She went to work and visited a brick factory and a tile maker. Then she went back in history and studied a little bit about geology and learned something about clay and clay beds and what hydrous meant and what vitrified meant. She began to soar out of the basement of a boarding house on the wings of words like vitrified kaolin and hydrous aluminum silicate. She finally decided that there were about 120 different kinds of glazed bricks and tiles. She could tell Agassiz that, so she wrote him a little note of thirty-six pages and said, "Here's your glazed brick."
He wrote back, "This is a fine piece of work. If you change this and that and the other, I'll prepare it for publication and send you that which is due you from the publication." She thought no more of it, made the changes, sent it back, and almost by return mail came a check for 250 dollars. His letter said, "I've published your piece. What was under the brick?"
And she said, "Ants."
He replied (all of this by mail), "What is an ant?"
She went to work and this time she was excited. She found 1825 different kinds of ants. She found that there were ants that you could put three to the head of a pin and still have standing room left over. She found that there were ants an inch long that moved in armies half a mile wide and destroyed everything in their path. She found that some ants were blind; some ants lost their wings on the afternoon they died; some milked cows and took the milk to the aristocrats up the street. She found more ants than anybody had ever found, so she wrote Mr. Agassiz something of a treatise, numbering 360 pages. He published it and sent her the money and royalties, which continued to come in. She saw the lands and places of her dreams on a little carpet of vitrified kaolin and on the wings of flying ants that may lose their wings on the afternoon they die.

(Marion D. Hanks July 1971 Ensign, also Stephen R. Covey and Jeffrey R. Holland have used this story as well).

Oh. And here's a bit of significant irony for our family. :) http://www.stateparks.com/cibola.html

cate turns two

Had a little birthday tea party for Cate last night. Kenz turned the planning all over to me as she has been busy growing and delivering Madeline.

Cate had us sing and blow out the candles 4 times, dancing while we sang. We gave her a little Radio Flyer scooter with the helmet. She wouldn't take it off.

Cate loves, loves tea parties. Hence, everything pink, girly and tea party related.

We decorated her little table too. Here she and Meghan using their best fancy schmancy manners.

It was a dress up affair. Cate dons her gloves and heels.

Some very distinguished gentlemen were in attendance, too.

We did fun stuff. Like playing I'm a Little Teapot on the Flannelboard

and a Blowing out the candles fingerplay

We played Tea Cup Bean Bag Toss. Cate won.

How did we know whose turn it was? Easy, peasy. See the little pink and white cubes in the sides of the picture? Those are photo dice, with each family members pics glued on. Roll on your pic and it's your turn! (Remember, people. Cate is only two:)

There was a Tea pot pinata, too. Aunt Megs won. She was fierce.

Though Cate gave her a run for her money.

Oh! and Tea Party Smarty. We played that, too.

It's a match game that looks like this:

For favors we had little construction paper purses filled with candy bracelets, and candy lipstick.

Oh. And Tea Cups made out of marshmallows and lifesaver handles.

The cake.

Cate pronounced it good.

In all I think it was a:

It was a fun party to plan but possibly you noticed something missing: no cardboard. Yup. This party I challenged myself to branch out into new mediums. No cardboard anywhere. I tried to get, uh, creative. Hence, the toilet paper stuffed hangy teapot thingys.

deanna troi musings

Wednesday, driving in the car with jlw.

Me: How do you think married persons with the same first name feel? How weird is that?

Jlw: Whaddya mean?

Me: Like a Robin being married to a Robin. Or a Terry being married to a Terri. Or a Bob and a…uh….Bob.

Jlw: So you are referring to homosexuals?

Me: No, just in general theorizing. I wonder how they handle that. Does it give them pain?

Jlw: Do you actually know any married couples with the same first name?

Me: No, I don’t. But I am imagining and preparing. What if someday someone comes to me for advice and comfort about this issue. What would I say ? Hmm?

Jlw: Well. (long pause) You should keep working on that advice. That could be a real golden nugget.

Egnorance. (n) The egotistical combination of ignorance and arrogance.

The arrogance of ignorance. It’s a scary thing. Where we mistake opinions for actual thoughts.

Real knowledge, of course, is to know the extent of one’s ignorance.

Eliot Butler* contends that
…there is built into the nature of learning a remarkable protection against pride.

Many years ago I first read his excellent “Everybody is Ignorant, Only on Different Subjects”. Click here, you won’t be sorry.
http://byustudies.byu.edu/showTitle.aspx?title=5289
It’s a start in overcoming pride in what we know and reminds us that the truly educated are aware of what they don’t know.
(It’s a free download, and when you get to the page scroll down, there’s lots of blank space at the start.)

The educated person, actively, consciously, and vigorously learning through his own drive cannot be egotistical about what he or she knows. Each step that increases understanding reveals a large area of ignorance than could be seen before. For example, one who has never heard of ancient Greek civilization can have no concept of the extent of his ignorance of that subject. One who knows nothing of calculus cannot begin to appreciate how ignorant he is of the possibilities of reasoning, order, logic, and complex problem-solving offered by that area of mathematics. One must learn some before he can even recognize his ignorance. Will Durant, in an interview at age 80, said it well: “Sixty years ago I knew everything; now I know nothing; education is a progressive discovery of our own ignorance.”

And then later this:

…one can soon tell if one is speaking with an educated person. Mark Van Doren points out correctly that nobody who is will ever admit to being educated. This is not, of course, that the person is embarrassed to be educated, but only that he or she is so conscious of many areas of gross ignorance. Will Rogers saw it clearly: “Everybody is ignorant,” he said, “only on different subjects.”

We can all smell and sense an egnorant person a mile away. They are full of themselves. Sort of A.S.S.-like, eh? he he he

*(also has some interesting thoughts on the question “Isn’t it enough to just be good?” Another post for another day)

reminder #332

We all do and say things that are beneath us.

As always there are no loopholes. He says to be a person of class, of graciousness. Doesn't mean we condone or deny the hurt. Just respond the way He would. Like a, gulp, disciple even.

This. Is. Hard.

Treat everyone with politeness, even those who are rude to you
- not because they are nice, but because you are.
~Author Unknown


I have wept in the night

For the shortness of sight

That to somebody's need made me blind;

But I never have yet

Felt a tinge of regret

For being a little too kind.

-- Anonymous

maddie sue

She's here. Arrived 2/21/10 at 12:25 am. Weighed in at 6 lbs 2 oz. Has Kenzie's delicate, sweet face. We are thrilled.
And her mother? Doing fine. After enduring what in hindsight can only be described as a very, very hard (physically and emotionally) pregnancy she gets the medal for one tough and resilient little lady. The delivery turned scary as Doctors rushed in preparing for a c-section. But awesome Kenz, being highly motivated and sensing the urgency of a torn placenta and cord problem, pushed her out in 3 pushes. Well done, Bird. Here's to better days!


Being Grandy is a great gig. Man, I love my daughters and grand-daughters.

As always, more pics coming over at The Grandparentals.

Love is my religion - I could die for that. --John Keats

My valentine and I got a jump start on the day and exchanged chocolate and flowers last night. Good thing, that. Ld also gave me Bright Star, the tragic love story of the poet John Keats and Fanny Brawne. Viewed it late last night. Go watch it, let's discuss.

Today is our Sunday churchin’ routine of meetings, meetings, and more meetings. Not romantic but there is a love tie-in after all.
And finally, a quote that fits the day:

“The Prime Directive has been delivered to us pointedly by the Savior no fewer than three times in John's Gospel alone:

1) ‘A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I do you, that ye also love one another. By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye one to another’ (John 13:34-35).
2) ‘This is my commandment, That ye love one another, as I do you. Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends’ (John 15:12-13).
3) ‘These things I command you, that ye love one another’ (John 15:17).

“…This is not emotional fluff. This is not pie in the sky, wishful thinking, or idealistic gas. Love is not some subsidiary principle that allows the weepy among us to go off on a crying jag. It's not just something thrown in for the benefit of the sisters or for the super-sensitive "artsy" types. It is not an option that may be ignored by those who would prefer not to clutter their lives with other peoples' problems. There is a grand key here, probably the grandest of them all. It is this: the heart and soul of the gospel is love, and all the rest is commentary. Whatever else we may perceive religion to be, we are wrong—for true religion is love in action—God's love for us and our love for God and for our neighbors.” (Stephen R. Robinson, Following Christ, p. 137 – 138)

Cate and Grandy. Such funsters.

Valentine's Day is just around the corner. We have taken to eating lunch festively.


And today Cate gave me this:




Oh that Cate.

I made this for Cate today. Because she is a SuperGirl!*



*Dash over to the Grandparentals for an adorable video of Cate and Megs flying.