Whole lotta nothin'

I am writing this from my motel room. Yup, I am lounging around in my nightie eating a popcorn ball and reading all the family blogs ( okay, I have been surfing around a bit too, but it’s been productive surfing. I haven’t just been wasting time looking up how many times the average person yawns in a day, even though that is useful info to know and turns out to be about 4 x a day. Just FYI.)

But now. Now, it’s time to discipline myself and think of something to write about. I have no excuse because I am not busy with my ho hum real life. I am on vacation. Sitting here in my bed, under the covers, gazing at my navel and contemplating the complexities of existence. Check out time is at 11:00 ld reminds me. Ha. All the time in the world.

I could write about how hectic things have been for me the last few weeks. What with our 82 year old RS sister breaking her hip, surviving the surgery, being in and out or ICU a couple of times, and then going AWOL from the rehab center. Should I tell you about my experiences with her bed pan? I will spare you. But let me just say that they need to add a paragraph to the RS Handbook. One that explains in detail the job description like - ‘must wipe poop from little ole’ ladies hiney’s because their husband ran to the drug store and she can’t get up’. Yea, they need to put that paragraph in bold.

I’m not complaining because I love said ‘lil ole lady and I know she and her husband love me. They leave me gifts of old lady shampoo on my doorstep.

Hey, I could write about judging Piano Festival this past month. How 2 of my students won money from Honors Playoffs. And they deserved to. Finally, the Universe has aligned. After hearing that Rachmaninoff piece and the little Bach Musette, oh say, a hundred times in the last 4 months, Glorious Hallelujah and Jimmy Crack Corn someone paid them money. Sweet, sweet satisfaction.

Or I could write about my little lunch bunch. My little Kenz and Brigger who show up after classes and brighten my day. We talk about lots of things - movies, ideas, things they learned in classes. Did you know that Fascinating Womanhood is in the curriculum at UVSC? Yup, it is and oh, did that discussion get me stirred. Jimmy Crack Corn and I do care, dad gum. The woman who wrote that book is a nut.

But maybe I should write about my Meghan and how she is a trainer, or about JLW and his plans for school or about LDW and the great talk he gave in the Young Adult Ward. Nah.

Should I tell you about the trip down and how it snowed all the way and how our room wasn’t ready yet and that put me into a foul mood until I had some shrimp linguine in my tummy and a popcorn ball and a pleasant nights sleep.

Nah. I cain’t think of ‘nothin to say. Because all this blessed ‘nothing I gotta do’ laziness has befuddled my mind. And I gotta get a move on. Check out is at 11:00.

Keep on keepin' on

One of the more endearing phrases our ‘lil missionary uses in many of her emails to us is: Keep on keepin’ on. It’s been sort of a family motto for lots of years or rather it’s been a 'build character' catch phrase that I hoped my children would internalize as it speaks to courage and enduring and pressing on.

All moms try to guide their children along in their view of what would bring their children the best future. I hope I have communicated optimism. But sometimes I see the need to ensure that my children are prepared to face struggles. Like in the Langston Hughes poem I have always loved.


MOTHER TO SON

Well, son, I’ll tell you:
Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
It’s had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor –
Bare.
But all the time
I’se been a-climbin’ on,
And reachin’ landin’s,
And turnin’ corners,
And sometimes goin’ in the dark
Where there ain’t been no light.
So boy, don’t you turn back.
Don’t you set down on the steps
‘Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.
Don’t you fall now –
For I’se still goin’, honey,
I’se still climbin’,
And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

Perseverance. When things get rough don’t just stop, don’t give up and “set down on the steps,” keep climbing on. Also, this poem talks of turning corners and going in the dark; in other words, continuing on in a new direction sometimes and moving forward even when the future is unclear. Great advice for any of us.

But here’s something the poem left out. The railing. Langston, did your staircase not have a railing? Because mine does. There’s an iron railing along that rickety old staircase and while it’s true that we must keep climibin’ ( I mean there really is no choice, right?), the railing is there to hold onto, to cling to. All of us run the risk of getting tripped up as we try to climb. Remember the railing, children. You don't have to climb alone or without support. Lean into it, cling to it. It makes all the difference. I know, because life for me ain't been no crystal stair, either. It's not for any of us. But don't make the climbing harder than it needs to be. Grip the rail, hang on tight and move forward in faith.

So…about Love

I’ve told important people in my life that I love them today. I wrote little messages and distributed a fair amount of chocolate. Yup, I helped line the pockets of merchants hoping to get rich off suckers like me. I bought into the total commercialization of Valentine’s day. I’m not sorry, though, as I’ve never ever been guilted into being a Valentine’s day celebrator. No, I embrace the holiday willingly. Any excuse to speak one’s love is a good thing, no?

So in the spirit of the Sainted guy, I bought Valentine Candy nearly every time I hit the grocery store and quickly snarfed them down. Mmmm…Red and white M&M’s, cinnamon jelly hearts and red and pink laffy taffys. More love handles, mind you.

I also sent Megs some Valentine themed PJ’s a couple of weeks ago. I was taking a chance, I know. But she loved them. Which just goes to show that even extraordinarily picky people can be very tolerant and accepting of a gift given in love, no matter how lame or cheesy. She loved the tacky heart covered fleece pajama bottoms and the ‘love slippers’ and exclaimed in usual Meghanese that they were “sooooo wonderful, soooo amazing…The cutest thing ever”. Why? Because, I’m thinking it spells ‘mama love’ to her. Thus her ability to tolerate/wear something that her unfashionable mama actually picked out.

Anyway, you get the picture. I am a fan of Valentines day, er, love. And even though I’m often horrible at it, and the people I love can bug the crap out of me at times, I think it’s a good thing. Notice I didn’t say it’s an easy thing, because in my experience, it’s not. Love is messy and risky and really hard. It can leave us beat up and bruised. And if we take Paul’s definition of love to heart, love can sometimes seem impossible.

Remember, Paul says basically that,
“…Love cares more for others than for self…
doesn't want what it doesn't have...
doesn't strut, doesn't have a swelled head,
doesn't force itself on others,
isn't always ‘me first,’
doesn't fly off the handle,
doesn't keep score of the sins of others,
doesn't revel when others grovel,
takes pleasure in truth,
puts up with anything,
trusts God always,
always looks for the best,
never looks back
and keeps going to the end”
(1 Corinthians 13).

Yeah, love, real love is like that, and for relationships to work, love like that—committed, persevering, forgiving, selfless— has to exist.

The problem is there are times when I’m too selfish to love, times when I’m too tired to love, times when I honestly don’t know how to love, times when I simply don’t have it in me to love.

But then who is always patient and kind, never jealous or boastful or arrogant or rude? Who pretends to bear all things, trust all things, hope all things, endure all things? There is not one among us who has not failed time and again to love as we should have loved, and every one of us will continue to fail in the future, but that does not mean we cannot also succeed, and succeed more and more.

So I’m trying to practice and pray for more love. I’m trying to accept Meghan’s challenge, issued several years ago, to ‘grow up and love each other’.

In case I don’t speak or show my love often enough, dear fam and friends, let me just say: I love you all. I really do.

Things to Be Happy About

The other day I came across a book I thought I had lost, called “14,000 Things to Be Happy About.” This was a treasure I procured from Deseret Industries several years ago and read with great interest. The idea of someone actually coming up with that many things to be happy about seemed absurd. But, as it turned out, reading this woman’s list changed my ‘life sucks’ attitude as I found myself thinking, ‘hey, if Oreo cookies are what happiness is about, then I’m so there’. At that time I was married to a Bishop, had 3 little kids, just been diagnosed with a ruptured disc and was taking care of Dad at home. I was young, under stress and ate a lot of Oreo’s. I didn’t know I was happy. I had forgotten or something.

Finding this book at exactly this time in my life is fortuitous for after a brief phone conversation with my bro JLA I’ve decided to make Thursdays a ‘Things to Be Happy About’ day.

Here, JLA, is something you can relate to, homey.

Today’s list:

1) Paper and scissors. Cutting makes me happy. Snip snip snip and cut cut cut. Kenzie humors me and lets me make visuals for her primary class.

2) Glue. Happiness flows. ‘Nuff said.

3) Hydroponic tulips. The ones ld gave me on my dining room table are starting to bloom. I don’t fully understand how this is possible since I thought dirt had important nutrients essential for plant growth but apparently it isn’t so. If I wasn’t so preoccupied with the Society of Relief, I would explore this more, like is it possible to have a hydroponic sandbox?

4) Brown paper packages tied up with string...these are a few of my favorite things. Especially when they are from our ‘lil missionary. She sent home old letters and old clothes, stuff she didn’t want to lug around. Great fun reading and snooping through her luv letters.

5) Excessive amounts of BYU Chocolate Mint Brownies and Cookies. We had a ward RS leadership meeting. 15 people were invited to attend. I ordered enough refreshments to serve 80. Because you all know me well, you know this is what I do. I over-refreshmentalize. I no longer see this as a failing.

6) Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier. Kenz just finished reading this and it brought back fond memories. I loved it at 15 and love it still. It was delightful being creeped out by Mrs. Danvers all over again.

7) Balderdash. No brags, just facts: I am quite possibly the best player of this game on the planet. I have the imagination, and the bluffing ability - two essential skills necessary for success in this game. While it’s true I don’t usually win, I play with a lot of heart and enthusiasm. Oh, and I am not easily distracted by other’s flatulence. Which appears to be some sort of ‘new age’ game strategy meant to throw me off my game. You know who you are.

Enough happiness for now. Sigh. Peace out, homies.

Evidence that I'm loved

Yesterday, my fondest wish for 2007 came true. Ld presented me with a new lap top. The following note was attached:

Happy Groundhog, Valentines, President's, St.Patrick’s, Easter, Memorial, Flag, Independence, Pioneer, Birthday, Labor, Columbus, Halloween, Veteran’s, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s, Human Rights Day..through 2009.

Love,
ld

The year 2009 is significant and accurate because I blow up/go through a lap top about every two years.

Some days one can only rejoice. February comes and I have a new computer. Thank you ld, you get some extra love in your sandwich.

In the Bleak Midwinter

Yesterday I sat by myself at church, which is nothing new as ld was off visiting another ward. I sat in my usual spot, off to the far right and near the back. I like sitting there because it allows me to catch up on a lesson or fill out my weekly to do list without feeling guilty or bothered. Lately, it’s proven to be useful in my calling as well. It allows me to scan the congregation and notice who’s not there, which sister looks particularly weary and haggard, or who slips in late and then leaves early. All useful info for me to know. After the sacrament I make little notes - call so and so, check on Sister M, tell Bishop about, follow up on, remind, thaw out some rolls to take to Sister J ... It’s all do, do, do, stuff.

But yesterday during Sacrament meeting I didn’t write anything. I didn’t read, didn’t even doodle or peruse through my scriptures. No munching on lint covered breath mints, either. No, I did nothing. I just sat there. I was too pooped and beat up to do anything, except think. I did do a lot of thinking.

January has been a really hard month for our ward and for me personally. If you take into account all the sickness, the tragedies and losses suffered, the unexpected events not to mention the days of freezing 5 degree weather, you could justifiably label it a month of bitter cold. Yeah, that’s a good description. Bitter and Cold. Brrrr. Definitely feels like a winter in our lives — the winter of our own personal discontent (thank you, John Steinbeck)

There have been a lot of sad, sad sisters this past month. Those with mean, ornery husbands, those with serious welfare needs, those with such struggles and challenges that they are left hopeless and emotionally spent. Just so many ‘crosses and losses’. And I am not immune. No, our family struggles too, only in different ways. The old adage proves true for all of us — “there are no perfect lives, only lives.”

So, as I sit on my chair dazed and numb over all this collective pain, my mind starts thinking of my favorite Christmas song/hymn, only we don’t sing it in our church, although I wish we did. You might know it.

In the Bleak Midwinter.

In the bleak midwinter, frost wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter, long ago.

This song speaks to what I am feeling and not just because it’s kind of melancholy and written in a minor key. Winter, well January really, is a month simply to be gotten through. We hunker down in January, especially when those cold, piercing winds blow.

We all know the feeling, don’t we, of life suddenly or slowly, bending away from our will or our striving, toward what we dread or fear or are not ready for. Illnesses come, we lose someone we love, our work comes to naught, we feel helpless to help others. Whatever the circumstances of our own emotional or spiritual winter we can all relate, I think. The experience of bleakness, of hunkering down, of ‘coping mode’ is common to us all.

So, yesterday I notice:

Sitting in the congregation the family whose husband/father lost his job last week. They are all huddled together on the bench singing the opening hymn with gusto.

The sixteen year old who accidently ran over her little 2 year old brother on Thursday and put him in ICU at Primary Children’s stumbling in late with the rest of her siblings. Her hair is unkempt and the boys shirts are all rumpled but here they are.

The sister whose husband left her last year for some ‘cute young thing’ and who hasn’t stopped crying bitter buckets slips in quietly in front of me. After being absent from church for many, many months, she’s here.

The sister whose chair beside her husband is empty. It was a ‘feeling green day’ for her as the chemo she is enduring has made her too nauseated to attend. She’s not present physically, but I feel and miss her spirit.

And then Sister X, who serves so valiantly and tirelessly in her leadership calling and always with a smile plastered across her face. Today she sits with red rimmed eyes. Her husband will be in court Tuesday and sentenced. They are praying for no jail time.

And so it goes. On nearly every row sits someone experiencing winter living. And yet here they are sitting in the pews, a testament to resilience or faith or both. Given the magnitude of some of their struggles, and my own, what keeps us all from simply pulling the covers up over our head and refusing to get up? What makes us brave the cold and keep trudging?

It’s in the second verse.

Our God, heaven cannot hold him, nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away when he comes to reign.
In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed
The Lord God almighty, Jesus Christ.

In the bleak midwinter, while earth stands hard as iron, and water is like a stone and snow has fallen on snow, on snow, on snow, Jesus was born, into the midst of barren cold.

The point of that song (and I can not get it out of my head) is important to me because I believe in light in darkness, hope amidst adversity, in love standing against pain. I believe in Jesus Christ and in our Heavenly Father’s plan. But because of the shadows that winter casts, it is not always easy to see during these bleak months. Faith often goes unnoticed.

Sitting there in church yesterday I was surrounded by faith. Taking the sacrament on a cold wintry day in January seems especially meaningful to me. Yes, renewing covenants and recommitting is important but there’s something else, too. We were all there because the Savior (and even his church) offers us companionship in our vulnerability, our fragility and our mortality.

The ‘aha’ moment came for me yesterday when I realized that this is the best way for us to relate to each other as well. It really would be good if we could acknowledge our mutual vulnerability and see the fragile and precious child in each person.

Today doesn’t seem as cold. We are, after all, on the downside of January and Spring is right around the corner. Bring it on.

Year End Holiday Newsletter

Notable Illness:
Kenzie contracts mono. Shocker — Brig comes down with mono, too. How did that happen?

Cool Places Visited:
San Francisco. Great city, good memories. Museums, buses, seals, crab, fortune cookies, cable cars, etc.

Famous sayings of 2006:
Hug me. Hug me now.
—Good Boy

Love you more than a gazilion twix bars
Soooo amazing, soooo wonderful, sooooo keep on keepin’ on…
—Meghan

I like a plethora of…
I’m pretty sure that guy was beat up a lot in high school…
—B. Gomer

Hey, ‘lil mommy
Brig, Brig, Brig, Brig, Brig, Brig, Brig, Brig. (…ad nauseum)
—Kenzer

Huh, huh?
Sometimes I like to wear stretchy pants when no one is looking.
—ld

Most Pleasant Surprise and Unexpected Blessing for 2006:
Brig Gomer Arnold and here’s why: He is kind and polite and easy in his skin. He is smart, funny and attentive to others' needs. He is affable and confident and aware of his power to lead and influence. And he is spiritual, in a Spencer W/J Golden Kimball kind of way. He uses all of these gifts well; in fact, he uses them better than anyone the parental-in-laws have ever known. But we’ll stop right there as we don’t want his A.S.S.* to grow any bigger. Suffice it to say, we love him.
     *Arnett/Arnold Self-Assured Syndrome

Awards earned:
Most dumb computer award:
Bestowed by fam on lil’ Mommy.

Most awkward moment award:
Bestowed on ld when at the dinner table in the middle of a completely unrelated conversation he blurts out to FSIL: So, you’re not into pornography are you?

Tender moments:
Hand holding over a baked potato.

Most important lesson learned in 2006:
If your computer starts to smoke and smells burnt this means it will probably blow up.

Hero of the year:
1st Place:
Janny for retrieving my hard drive from my blown up defunct computer and restoring all 3,000 files.
2nd Place:
Janny for giving me his old laptop.

Fondest Wish for the year 2007:
ld buying me a new laptop.

Profound books read:
(Notice I’m not listing everything good that was read, only the profound stuff. That makes the list a lot shorter.)
Some stuff by Kate Chopin, especially the Awakening
How People Change by Alan Wheelis
RS Handbook

This year’s can’t live without gadget:
TiVo

New family craze:
Blogging!
Visit us at: csarnett / ldsquared / my blog is better than yours

New family Cheer:
(This replaces our old one on account of Brig joining the fam.)
Old Cheer:
Mom and Dad, Meg, Kenz and Jantz
on the dance floor of life
Let’s get out there and dance!

New Cheer:
Mom and Dad, Meg, Kenz and Jantz—
And Brig.
Let's all do a jig (everyone does a jig)
We’ve got courage
Like a lion (this is where Janny roars loudly)
So let’s all keep a tryin’
Family Alliance Unite! (This is where we all unite our fists into one)
(I like our new cheer on account of it’s so deep and has layers upon layers of symbolism.)

Additional Family Motto:
We still like Hard is Good but this year we are adopting Sprinkle Joy as well. So we will be sprinklin’ some joy on all that hard stuff.

2006 has been a good year. It found us still pluggin’ along. Jantzen is much happier and finding strength he thought he’d lost. Our lil’ missionary Meghan is doing wonderful, awesome, sooooo much, all good as her emails and letters attest and Mackenzie found her true love, Brig. We are grateful for the gospel of Jesus Christ and we love love love each other. To all our dear extended fam and friends, we love you, too. Happy Holidays.

cs & ld

If, Then...

If you eat 8 pieces of Sees candy, 6 chocolate eclairs (the little baby ones from Costco, okay?), and a sliver of pumpkin pie (because pumpkin is afterall a vegetable) and you eat this all for breakfast, you will get sick. Very sick.

If you do it again, for 3 days straight, you will hate yourself.

And because you now hate yourself, you will have to take drastic measures. Like eliminate the temptation.

Which is why for the 4th day running now I have gobbled down 2 boxes of See’s, most of the Costco Chocolate Cream puffs and the chocolate covered macadamia nut things not to mention the neighbor’s cheese ball and the peppermint nougats I swiped from GB’s stocking.

I had to do this. Get rid of it all. Just so I wouldn’t be tempted.

Such Lovely Gifts

Yesterday, I received some really nice Christmas gifts.

From ld: a new iPod. The kind that shows movies. Now when I am standing in a long line, sitting in a boring meeting, or stopped at a red light I can pass the time productively by watching P&P.

From G.B.: A battery operated head comber thingy. It is heaven. It looks to be a bunch of wire coat hangers attached to a battery. You are skeptical, I know. I was too. But for all you Arnett’s who have paid your kids a quarter to brush your hair let me just say: You must get one of these.

Also from G.B: a powder blue vest. Which will become my new uniform until spring.

From our ‘lil missionary: A can of real maple syrup. From real maple trees in Canada. Oh, and we got to talk to her yesterday which was present enough. She is doing wonderfully well.

From Kenz and the Brig: A game about quotes. Where they found this little gem I don’t know, but finally a game where I can kick everyone’s hiney.

All of these gifts were given by people who not only love me but know me well, as their gift choices attest. Thank you ‘lil family. You are the best.

And as if all this Christmas wonderfulness weren’t enough, before I dropped off to sleep I came across a wonderful new book. Here’s a quote from it and a link. My Christmas present to you. Merry Christmas, er, Merry Day After.

From Extraordinary Resilience (Smithsonian, December 2006)

A resilient person is performing competently while in the midst of adversity or, more often, after the adversity. Many people who are exposed to severe adversity don't do very well in life, so these really are very important exceptions. People evolve to become resilient, and they get there in different ways.

Reason #57: Why my growing older isn’t the same thing as growing up

I called someone an idiot yesterday. To their face. This is why I can never be let out in public ever again.

I did this because I was provoked and couldn’t overcome my provokedness, er, annoyance. That is the line I am taking, but even as I type this I am realizing what a jerk I am.

Kenzie and I were trying to park at the mall down by Nordstrom’s. This lady is backing out but then decides not to. I’m trying to park in the stall next to her. Is she going to back out or not? We sit there for a while, until she decides and then in exasperation I go past her and try for the parking space much further up, but that space is pretty tiny and I parked crooked. So I proceed to back up and straighten my angle. Only said lady is now behind me, boxing me in. I wait patiently until she passes. Only she never passes. And it’s not like there were any other cars around. No one is in front of her. She just sits there and proceeds to finish her book or clip her nails or have a tasty snack. She doesn’t move. What is she thinking?

More time passes. Seriously, what is she doing? I’m getting steamed and Kenzie and I discuss said lady’s state of mind. Hmmmph! I roll down the window and wave my arm vigorously for the lady to move it. She doesn’t. She is knitting a sweater or something and can’t be bothered. Finally, and this is the good part, I blurt out to Kenzie, I’m going to roll down my window and tell that lady she is an idiot and I start rolling down the window, only the rolling down is too slow, so I open up the door, stick my head out and yell, You are an IDIOT.

Yup. I said that. And this is the part where you all should pay attention and learn from your Auntie’s serious lapse in judgment. Never say that to someone you haven’t actually seen face to face.

As soon as I make eye contact I realize the magnitude of my sin. Surprise, surprise, she wasn’t a green martian afterall. She was a real live human being who looked to be about my age and someone I would chat up in the grocery store line. The look on her face — well, I recognized it immediately. She was befuddled and bewildered. It was a look that communicated: Look, I don’t know why I am sitting here not moving. I just am. Okay?

I could so relate. The woman, she smiled at me weakly and I nodded my acknowledgement that I understood our shared human condition. I sheepishly and silently tuck my head back into the car and close the door.

I turn to Kenzie and remind her of her family loyalty. We will never speak of this to anyone, right Kenz? Right?

But too late. She is laughing hysterically, uproariously even. Oh that was just great, Mom. So classic.

I console myself that it could have been much worse. Meghan would have delivered a tongue lashing. I can hear her now, So, uh, Mom. Do we even belong to the same church?

Ouch.

I tried all day to justify my behavior with all the typical rationales. I was provoked, I was justified, I was tired. I had low blood sugar. I had a bad childhood. Growing up, my brothers’ were meanies.

But the reality is this. Most days I can keep my act together, really. But then there are days when the real me comes out. The childish me. The one that tells people they have never met before that they are IDIOTS.

CS Lewis lectures me with his Rats in the Cellar analogy:

When I come to my evening prayers and try to reckon up the sins of the day, nine times out of ten the most obvious one is some sin against charity; I have sulked or snapped or sneered or snubbed or stormed. And the excuse that immediately springs to my mind is that the provocation was so sudden and unexpected; I was caught off my guard, I had not time to collect myself. Now that may be an extenuating circumstance as regards those particular acts: they would obviously be worse if they had been deliberate and premeditated. On the other hand, surely what a man does when he is taken off his guard is the best evidence for what sort of a man he is? Surely what pops out before the man has time to put on a disguise is the truth? If there are rats in a cellar you are most likely to see them if you go in very suddenly. But the suddenness does not create the rats: it only prevents them from hiding. In the same way the suddenness of the provocation does not make me an ill-tempered man; it only shows me what an ill-tempered man I am. The rats are always there in the cellar, but if you go in shouting and noisily they will have taken cover before you switch on the light.
~C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity, (1952)

Good ole’ CS. He always comes through in a pinch and nails it. I have rats in my cellar, er, in my heart. But then maybe we all do.

If by chance the lady in the above encounter ever reads this: I’m so sorry. I want you to know that I have been motivated to do penance as all day today I have waved and smiled cheerily to fellow drivers. I even let some of them cut in front of me and as they did so I mouthed the words, I love you, fellow traveler.

Discounted Epiphanies

 
I have a love/hate relationship with All A Dollar. I really do. On the one hand, I love the place because of all the truly great cheap stuff I’ve found there. Like my bulk purchase of 32 Smiley face fly swatters (c’mon it was for Young Women) or Christmas napkins for our Progressive Dinner, or my latest treasure of 8 episodes of the Andy Griffith Show (and that includes the episode where Ernest T. Bass kidnaps Barney dressed in drag) and on DVD no less. Thank you All A Dollar, I love you.

But then I hate All A Dollar, too. I hate that place because at least once a year I have a major life changing epiphany there. All A Dollar pricks my social conscience in a way that few other places do, other than the temple or church. Seriously. And having to face yourself or discover kernals of truth about yourself isn’t always pleasant. Or fun. Or easy.

I’m speaking of encounters like the one a couple of Christmas’s back when this grumpy old man was being pushed in a wheelchair by his 30 something daughter. They were picking out Christmas gifts for the man to give his grandchildren. Only the man wasn’t soft spoken but really rather rude as he kept making comments to the little kids running around bumping into his wheelchair. He had bed head and his shirt was covered in old man dribble. Anyway, his daughter was pushing him around and patiently making suggestions as to what he could buy.

The old man would snort, No, I don’t want none of that crap or grunt, No, I gave that to them before.

The whole time Kenzie and I are nonchalantly following them around in the store hoping they won’t notice our interest in them.

Finally the woman perks up and says, I know, Dad, what about a can of pop! The kids would love that, what do you think?

And finally the old man agrees. So now the woman is happy and the old man is happy and the grandkids will be getting a can of pop from Grandpa. For Christmas. So many thoughts on so many levels, I won’t even go there but it was a sweet and tender experience for me and I couldn’t stop thinking and crying about it for days.

Also, at All A Dollar for the past 3 years running I see the little old spanish beggar man only he isn’t dressed like a beggar and hops out of his nice shiny car to ask me if I ‘have any money to buy food and medicine’. He always leaves me wondering and confused. What is his story? Hurry into the store, don’t make eye contact. More thoughts, more soul searching.

And then there’s the little lady in the check out line back in March. It was raining like crazy that day and I ran into All A Dollar to pick up a cheap umbrella as I was driving Kenz to BYU for her voice lesson and she had given her umbrella to her roommate and we were running late as usual…

Anyway, this little lady with the hearing aid turns to me and smiles sweetly. She proceeds to chat me up and delivers this powerful little sermon:

I love the rain don’t you? Some people don’t you know, but I do. My mother used to say to me, ‘Embrace the rain, honey. Let it kiss your face. If you’ll do that, you’ll never ever get wrinkles.’ And so I do. I embrace the rain.

I looked into this sweet little lady’s face and I kid you not she appeared normal. Yet she’s telling me this at All A Dollar. Embrace the rain, honey.

All A Dollar I hate you. You make me confront myself and my attitudes. You make me, no, force me, to interact with the lonely, the odd, the old. Even the check out girl, with the weirdly painted on eyebrows, I can’t ignore. Sometimes I try, but I can’t. Worthy of my respect and notice, all of them. I mean they are my kind of people. And let’s face it I’ve never had such encounters in Mervyns or even Target. No, there is something special about All A Dollar.

So yesterday I ran into All A Dollar quick to pick up more gingerbread house candy. The lines are long. It’s Christmas and I’m mad at the people ahead of me because don’t they know, I am busy busy and the stuff I gotta do is important and they are so slow. So I’m clutching my snowman suckers and my cotton candy and it happened. Another All A Dollar epiphany. My ‘haven’t slept for 3 nights running’ state of mind starts racing. What if. What if some crazy person in line had a gun? And what if they took us all hostage right here in All A Dollar? Which one of us would emerge the hero? Which one would fight off the crazy man, maybe tackle him or use psychology on him, or offer to remain a hostage if he’d let the others go. Here’s the really sad part, I know it wouldn’t be me. I wouldn’t be the hero. That’s because I’m a wimp and have no nunchuck skills. Someone else out of the throng of All A Dollar shoppers would step up and save the day. Suddenly I know this. And I’m overflowing with love vibes for my fellow heroic shoppers when the lady behind me with the mullet nudges me with her cart and interrupts my reverie. Move along. But again, I am changed.

So no matter anymore our relationship. I’ve come to terms with it. Whatever else All A Dollar is, it’s a place where I feel comfortable. Where else can you pop in wearing your little ducky pajama bottoms and not feel out of place. Plus, the bargains. On any given day you can get a stale bag of Cheetos or a Sermon, and all for only a dollar. Discounted epiphanies.
 

Missing Mommy

 
This morning I came across this wonderful statement:

Man's conscious influence, when he is on dress-parade, when he is posing to impress those around him,--is woefully small. But his unconscious influence, the silent, subtle radiation of his personality, the effect of his words and acts, the trifles he never considers,—is tremendous… Every man has an atmosphere which is affecting every other. So silent and unconsciously is this influence working, that man may forget that it exists…
…In all Nature the wonders of the "seen" are dwarfed into insignificance when compared with the majesty and glory of the unseen…
Into the hands of every individual is given a marvellous power for good or for evil,—the silent, unconscious, unseen influence of his life.
[William George Jordan, The Power of Personal Influence, The Majesty of Calmness, pp.18&19]

This statement brought tears to my eyes this morning as I have been thinking a lot lately of my mother. Christmas always brings a mixed bag of emotions for me as it seems to magnify what I’m already feeling. The beautifully decorated tree, the music, the shopping for gifts, the Christmas Eves, all things my mother loved. Doing these things without her these past 17 years has been really hard. Even now.

But it’s funny, it’s not that I’m sad because she doesn’t exist anymore, because I know she does. And I’m not sad because I can’t remember her, because I do. I remember every little detail about some things. There are no regrets to our relationship, no bad memories. The sadness comes from just missing her presence, the separation. It sucks.

Yet, I feel her with me all the time. Some days more than others, but she’s there. How is that possible for love ties to reach across death and still touch us, motivate us and cheer us? How is it that some people can touch us so profoundly that just the memory of them can give us courage?

I don’t know all the rules of the afterlife, but the memory and the influence of my mother is a sustaining thing. And what an influence she had. In her small corner of the world she made a difference through her teaching, her loving, her example, her church service. She was everything that was beautiful and good and fine.

When I teach a lesson, her influence is there. I remember how she taught with power and clarity and the price she paid in preparation. When I struggle with a family relationship I remember how quick she was to apologize. When I want to whine and kick and scream because I have a bad cold, I remember her patience in suffering.

She was a righteous example, an incredible influence, my inspiration.

Again, some words by the Jordan guy:

To make our influence felt we must live our faith, we must practice what we believe…
…No individual is so insignificant as to be without influence…We should ever let our influence filter through human love and sympathy. We should not be merely an influence, — we should be an inspiration. By our very presence we should be a tower of strength to the hungering human souls around us. [The Majesty of Calmness, pp. 22&23]

My mother. How I love and miss her.
She’s the voice in my head reminding me that I can do better and the whispering in my heart that no matter how badly I screw up, I’m loved.
Simply conjuring up her face in my mind brings strength.
Now that’s some influence.
 

Grandma Rose Would So Understand

 
One day last week:
Mackenzie and I were driving home from her voice lesson and turned the corner onto our street. That’s when I saw it, so I slowed down. I wanted it badly.

Me: Ohhh, look at that cardboard. It’s a fridge box no less. Those are the best kind.

Kenzie: Uh, Mom…

Me: Seriously, what a beautiful piece of cardboard. Brand new. I wonder what he’s going to do with it?

(I put the car in neutral. I’m going to get out)

Kenzie: Mom, no. Nooooo. No. Mom.

So I drive on by. I don’t even stop and dumpster dive. But I wanted to. Oh, how I wanted to. And if Kenzie hadn’t been in the car with me I know I would have succumbed. But I have to start acting with restraint and curb my impulsiveness as I’m too young to be really eccentric. Right now I’m just quirky. Weird doesn’t start until 50, eccentric at 65.

Besides, cardboard would be a distraction and I don’t need that as the Society of Relief consumes most all of my time. Plus, with Christmas here and all the seasonal duties that entails a person just has to be rational and prioritize their time. I read it in the RS Handbook. Right under ‘Don’t waste time making stuff out of cardboard. Not even cool stuff like, trains or forts or life size people. Be an Example. Act with decorum always. No stealing and stay away from dumpsters.’

So I’m patting myself on the back, congratulating myself on sacrificing my creative impulses for the sake of being mature and all relief society sister like, when my kids nonchalantly say:

Jantzen: How come you don’t make those cardboard cubbies anymore? The ones with little doors and handles? They were really special. I miss those.

Kenzie: Yeah, mom. You know, what I would really like for Christmas? Something made from cardboard.

Now, I know my kids were snickering and poking fun, they are bums. But as I am fond of quoting to them, What we say, we say with intent. Joking around always has some truth in it. Therefore, it won’t be such a surprise to you, will it, come Christmas morning when you open up your cardboard shirt, or your cardboard lava lamp, hmmmm, kiddies?

You just gave me license, in the interest of being a good mom, of course, to swipe that man on the corner’s cardboard. I will cut and saw and glue and paint just like old times. And duct tape. I’ll use lots and lots of duct tape. You can use duct tape in Relief Society. It says so in the handbook.

I come by this calling naturally. Grandma Rose was a RS President in Tucson, Arizona for many, many years. My favorite memory/story of her is when she would dumpster dive at cemetaries looking for thrown away plastic artificial flowers. Frugal she was. She used these flowers to supply the sisters for their homemaking crafts/pursuits. Back then the handbook read: 'Beautify your home with flowers from the dead.'
 

Sueños de noche

 
It’s no secret I have insomnia. Have had it for years. Before you go prescribing home remedies of herbal tea let me stop you right there and assure you I so have a handle on it. It’s all part of this menopausal crapola. I’m sorry to offend the sensitivities and sensibilities of my male readers but there it is.

Pre-menopausal symptoms include insomnia, as in early waking, as in from 2:00 am on. That’s the lot for the normal woman suffering through it. But as we have daily proof, I am not nor never have been normal. So I get the version of meno where you never sleep on most nights and then on the nights that you do get to enjoy really bizarre techno color dreams. As in they are so wacky that even for a dream I lie there thinking, “must wake up this is just too weird and in no possible scenario or other planet could this be happening”.

So last night was one of those. Dreams I mean. It involved Jesse James and Owen Wilson and Opie Taylor. Oh and me. And get this: I was the sane one. Anyhoo, we were all at the Salt Lake Temple involved in a shoot out. This dream never resolved, I just finally woke up but I am so hoping that not one part of it is even remotely real as it is very disheartening to envision the Salt Lake Temple decorated predominately in red and with Saloon doors.

This dream somewhat alters my To Do list.

STUFF I GOTTA DO TODAY:

1. Visit the sick and afflicted.

2. Visiting Teaching Report .

3. Teach piano. (Secure my piano garland:)

4. Fix dinner, clean toilet, miss Meghan, practice with Kenz, hug Jantzen and text Brig a quote.

5. Do temple work for Ron Howard. (Jesse James’ work has already been done.
 

It's back

 
Open for business.