Easter 2012

Each night this week the girls and I have talked about what happened on each night of the Holy week. On Monday night, I brought out a picture that wasn't familiar to me, preparing to explain to them the story of Christ cleansing the temple. Anabelle recognized it immmediatley and told me the story in great detail with perfect accuracy. I was stunned. And then I sang 'I Know That My Redeemer Lives'. And Lila was enthralled with it. She was touched. I could see that she was feeling the words of the song. She asked me to sing it again. And then again. She didn't want me to stop. And then we knealt down to say prayers and I asked Maisey if she wanted to pray. She said that she did so I helped her say her first prayer. It was so sweet. Her little arms folded, her eyes in a squint, and her little voice repeating most of what I said. My heart was full and I wondered why on earth I would EVER miss having Family Home Evening. Thursday, I began by talking about The last supper and the sacrament. Then I brought out a bucket of warm water that I had prepared and I washed each of the girls feet and explained how Jesus had done that to his disciples. I talked about the suffering in the garden and how his apostles had fallen asleep. How Judas had betrayed him. How he must have felt at this point- knowing he was to die, betrayed by a loved one, physically exhausted from immense pain and emotional burdens- at which point he heals the ear of a man waiting to take his life. I watched as Anabelle's heart broke. A slow cry started in her mouth and the tears began to flow and she said, "Why!? Why did Jesus have to die? Everyone says that he died for us but WHY did he have to? Why do people say that he died so we can live again? It doesn't make sense to me. Please can you help me understand WHY he had to?" I found myself quite overwhelmed at first, and stumbeling over a response. I can recall feeling this exact way myself on several occassions, and not as a small child. I told her that she would understand the answer to that question more and more throughout her life. She was not content. Again, she begged me to explain it to her. And then somehow I did. But I can't remember what I said. When I try to think of it, its like a wall is blocking the conversation in my mind. She sat in my lap for a while while I helped her understand something that I myself have grappled with as an adult. I dont know why. I just know that it's real and I know that I am grateful. It seemed to be necessary that she understand that the atonement isn't just something that happened. It is something to be used. It's not an event to be recalled, it's a tool to be used. I feel certain thinking about it now that the spirit helped me to say to her what she needed to hear- words that were beyond what I myself could give her. I saw peace in her eyes, her body relaxed, and she appeared comforted.

On Sunday night when we were re-capping the week I said:

Me: Lila, what is Easter about?
L: Jesus is not dead, He's ALIVE!
Me: And what is the word for that?
L: He's Ressurrected!
Me: And how does that make you feel?
L: Happy!!
Me:Why?
L: Because it makes you happy!

Good enough.

My friend gave me the good idea to arrange for the Easter Bunny to come on Saturday morning instead of Sunday. That way they get all that out of their system and Sunday gets to be about what it is really supposed to be about. A tradition I loved. I shall keep it. I may however have to talk to the bunny about the content of the eggs. Especially after the video I have of Anabelle asking repeatedly why there is just one jelly bean in each egg. So I don't want them hyped and screaming for sugar for days on end, what's so wrong about that? I'm a single Mom, don't judge me.




There were 3 different egg hunts happening that I offered to take them to but they (Anabelle, speaking for the group as she sometimes does), insisted that they stay home and play with their spoils. Like brush their teeth (or face if you're Maisey) for 20 minutes.



We didn't get new easter dresses but boy did we have Easter hair. We rolled it back old school (get it-"rolled it back"?) and went for some sponge rollers. Anabelle's are the only ones that lasted till bedtime.


This is Lila walking reverently outside before church. Never have I known a child to love and accept the idea of being reverent as she has.Maybe Maisey will catch on? Please Maisey, catch on. And those crazy kids who always seem to end up behind us at church who screech like monkeys while their parents pretend we are actually at the zoo and that it is OK. And now I can never invite them to my blog because I just talked trash about them. But they probably wouldn't even know I was talking about them. On that note, back to Easter!!







I was sitting at the computer looking at dress patterns, contemplating making the girls some Easter dresses. Enter 5 y/o Anabelle. I ask, "Anabelle, how important is it to have new dresses for Easter?" She says, "It's so TOTALLY not important. The only thing that's important is that we remember the empty tomb." Thanks for keeping it real kid.

my most favorite 10 minutes of the day

Today when I went to put Maisey down for a nap I knew that she was tired enough from the night before that if I gave her a minute, she would fall asleep in my arms. And you'd have to be a fool to pass that up. It may have been the fact that it was the first day I put all her hair up in piggies, signifying the end of baby-ness. Or the fact that she now fits in the brown Etnies and the pink Converse. There was the physical evidence of the day queuing my brain that her baby days are coming to a close, yet the fact that I could still rock her to sleep- like she's somewhere in between baby and child and the transformation makes me feel crazy inside. I LOVE this age when they soak up everything like sponges, and then return it to you in squeaky little voices with their own dialect and body language. I've admitted before that this age is my real incentive for wanting more babies. If I don't go through the whole ordeal again I'll never get another 18 month old and I don't know if I can handle that. But recognizing that her baby days are over is just not something I'm ready to do. How terribly fast it goes. It terrifies me. Really and truly. Please don't let my babies grow up. I don't think my body can crank out many more and if I don't have moments like today, where I just hold chubby bodies and stroke messy pigtails I swear a part of me will die.

St. George

In February we went to St. George for a week (Tim blessed Michael and Phil blessed Dallin & baptized Jocelyn). This is the main reason we wanted to come to Utah. It's so exciting to get to be a part of family stuff for a change. Also, humidity is stupid.

Family trips often involve lots of work. And I realize that the trip for the kids is an entirely different one than the adults experience.

Whenever we take trips, on either side of our family, I come home and look at pictures of the girls with their cousins and it makes me feel better about the mountain of laundry and the massive amount of cleaning that the van requires. Although I have roughly a thousand cousins, I only know a handful of them. And I really love the ones I know and think it's such a cool relationship. It's so fun to be related to someone you consider a really close friend.

I hope we give our kids enough of these experiences that they grow up being related to some of their best friends.

Economics 101

So I would be lying if I said I loved college Econ. Except one day our professor brought skittles to help drive home a point, and I liked that day. Don't remember what his point was though. BUT, I do seem to recall the basic principle of opportunity cost. The idea of considering the benefits you could have received, had you made a different choice.

Let's consider the opportunity cost of my lavish and selfish decision to take a shower:

I could have enjoyed my freshy mopped floor for longer than 15 minutes had I decided to go with the greasy ponytail for just one more day.

Or Exihibit B, the day I closed the office door and locked it so that I could schedule a list of doctor appointments:



Or last week when I was...doing something else responsible, which I can't recall at this time, but Lila felt the need to give Maisey the entire jar of Nutella...



And just this weekend when, heaven forbid, I got sick, a 5 gallon bucket (brand new!) of whole wheat flour was dispersed throughout the house as I was doubled over on the back porch heaving. What was my alternitive choice I ask you? C'mon girls, throw me a bone here. These are the pictures that Dads who are living halfway across the world find hilarious. Also Uncles who have yet to clean such messes under wretched conditions. Ha. Ha. Ha. So do I. Ha. Ha. Ha. Hear me laughing?

Notice the open jar of Nutella on the carpet









Reminiscant of the torture chamber from the Princess Bride


Why must it always involve Nutella?

And where are their clothes?

And where is their mother?

And what do skittles have to do with Economics?

I don't get any of this.

Fallen Warrior (from Braden)

Family,

I just had a pretty humbling experience that I though I would share
with all of you. I got an email announcing a fallen warrior ceremony
that was going to take place on the airfield. I get these emails most
days, but I have never been able to attend as I am usually on scope.
However, tonight it worked out. I was escorted onto the flight line
and, under a beautiful clear night sky, got to walk over to the C-130
that was carrying the body. I was a little early so I got to chat a
little bit with the Col that was leading the ceremony. He told me a
little about the process, how the ceremony would go and then we all
walked over together. There were probably 35 of us in attendance. They
lowered the gate of the plane and we all squeezed into the cargo area
of the aircraft and surrounded the casket. There was no other cargo on
board. A metal casket covered in an American Flag rested in the middle
of the compartment. The chaplain took a couple of moments to read
Psalm 23 and then said a little prayer. As I listened to the part
about "dwelling in the House of the Lord forever" I was deeply touched
as I though about this soldier whose face I will never see. He was
home. Then my thoughts moved to the family and friends who will not
speak to him again in this life. I wondered who those people were, if
this guy was a father, or even a mother. Maybe a spouse, but certainly
someone's child. Standing in the back of an airplane I was deeply
touched by what it means to give the ultimate sacrifice, and not so
much his/her sacrifice, as his/her time of probation is over, but the
sacrifice that was made by those that will agonize over the loss of a
loved one.

Then as we all stood there the commander of the base, Gen. Tuck, knelt
down and laid a coin on the coffin and said a silent prayer. I waited
and watched as others did the same thing. I then realized that I could
if I wanted to as well. I knelt, put my hand on the casket, and
thanked Heavenly Father for his Plan of Salvation, and prayed that the
loved ones of this soldier would be comforted, and I was then flooded
with gratitude for my understanding of the Plan. How fortunate we are
to know it. I stood and walked down the ramp and formed up with the
others to form a pathway for the body to be loaded onto a van. I
watched as the six men and women hefted the casket. My heart clenched
as I watched them strain under the weight, thinking of the body inside
that would never again feel pain or death. As we did a slow salute
they pushed the casket into the van and we were dismissed. We walked
off the flight line in silence and I saw more than one tear soaked
face.

I am so glad I was able to experience this. When I was heading over to
the ceremony I was sure I would be overwhelmed by a sense of
patriotism and love of country. While those feelings were present, I
was surprised and pleased that my dominant emotions were those of love
and gratitude to Heavenly Father and a renewed dedication to follow
His plan and the example of our Savior.

I love you all,

Braden

How I see it

It may seem surprising, but I LOVE this picture.

For a few reasons.

It's certainly not very clear, has a distracting glare and reflection, and the wrong things are in focus.

BUT, it's taken from my perspective. This is how I see things- peering around the corner, looking out a window, listening through a door. I like to think of it as eavesdropping with a purpose. Or in other words-mothering.

Anabelle was playing outside with her new bestie when it was time for the daily 5:00 national anthem. As the prelude music played I listened as they stopped their game and came to attention (making it all the better that Easton is wearing a coat made of legit ABU's 'like my Dad who is on Kuwait'). They couldn't agree on which direction they should be facing (Easton was confused because his house faces a different direction), so they each faced the direction they felt was right. Silent and sober the whole time. Cutest thing a pair of five year olds could do I think.