I'm Back!

a Rafflecopter giveaway This post is dedicated to my darling daughter who asked me to call a local radio station in order to win tickets to see her favorite band in concert. I WON!!! We'll be going to the concert in 3 days! Stay tuned. This same darling daughter has been working very hard, babysitting and dog walking, to earn money, to buy a camera. She has enough now to get one, but not the best one. She even had a nice one that was her Christmas gift last year, and she was showing a lot of potential as a photographer. But someone stole it. Here's hoping we win this super nice one, so she can save her money for her future. Blessings!

Epiphany

This morning I was folding laundry while I was thinking about the idea that in the USA, we have two major political parties. Either/or questions bug me!


One member of an online group I'm in said that a criterion for choosing your membership in one of these is whether your first concern is compassion or responsibility (autonomy/something else?)



I have been muddling over this . . . raised Republican, surrounded by mostly Republicans, sometimes bothered by the way they/we tend to think that our way is the only RIGHT and PRAGMATIC answer . . . then I thought that what really bothers me most is the idea that you're better off dying on your mission than coming home because of unworthiness. That might seem like a jump, but it has to do with compassion vs loyalty to the RULE. Sometimes when I'm doing the Love & Logic thing just right, I start to congratulate myself, and almost instantly, I loathe me.



I keep thinking of all these wonderful people who have lived very messy lives, because they love and are loved, and they're less concerned with the rules than with connecting to others. I realized that some people I know who have expressed that they feel unlovable because they are not perfect seem very brave to me, because I have the same underlying fear: if I break the rules, I'll get thrown away. But I was not always brave enough to stand up and speak my truth.



I lied to avoid disagreeing with my authority figure, and to keep the peace. But I don't like the settling for a lie, just to avoid being cast out.

Sadness, loneliness, despair.

Then I suddenly became aware, that to someone who insists that your honor is worth more than your life, I AM MY HONOR. HE DOESN'T WANT ME TO LIE OR SELL MYSELF. HE WANTS ME TO BE WHOLE. HE KNOWS MY LIFE HERE IS JUST A CHAPTER. SO IF HE SAYS THAT DEATH IS MORE HONORABLE THAN CHEATING, HE IS NOT DE-VALUING ME; HE'S ELEVATING ME OR ACKNOWLEDGING MY DIVINE CHARACTER AND INESTIMABLE VALUE.


Relief.

New Beginnings

I found a great giveaway today at Carol Tuttle's web site.
I'm very interested in her Energy Profiling and Dressing Your Truth insights.
While I'm a classic Type 2, I'm finding I really enjoy Type 4 leaders.
Check it all out at thecarolblog.com
Here's a direct link to today's beautiful scarf giveaway:
http://thecarolblog.com/dressingyourtruth/from-the-dressing-your-truth-closet-enter-to-win-my-weekly-giveaway-10/comment-page-1#comment-12866

Little People Crack Me Up!

Playing Rummikub with Louella today, I was sitting on the floor. We were using a little exercise trampoline as our game table. I guess my spread-eagle stance (avoiding the tramp's legs) made my knee visible to her.

Louella: {Gasp} what happened to your knee?
Me: I think it's warts.
Louella: What are warts?
Me: They're like what's on my knee... And that, my dear, is circular reasoning.
Louella: What's circular reasoning?
Me: OK, circular reasoning is like if I asked you, 'What's your name?' and you tell me, 'Louella,' and then I ask you, 'What is Louella?' and you say, 'It's my name,' and then I ask you, 'What's a name?'

Louella, blue eyes sparkling, smiles a very smart smile.

We keep playing. I'm reinforcing counting, colors, order, matching . . . and she says, "Mom, what is Louella?" with a great big smile on her face.

God Loves His Children So Much!

A couple of days ago, I had the first opportunity in a long time to play the piano.

I had been sad, but now I was ecstatic!

I played children's songs from a church music book I'd received a strong impression to use this time, instead of the hymnal I was about to play from.

I was amazed at how good this one song sounded.

("We Are Different", Children's Songbook)

I had not played it for a very long time, but I was able to do it pretty well, and so I played it through several times, with feeling.

A little while later, I was driving my daughters to church during a blinding rainstorm.

I was very nervous, doubtful that I should even be trying to get to church during a downpour that could easily flood the old-town streets surrounding our little chapel.

But somehow, we had gotten in the car early enough, so I was able to take the long way, in order to avoid the more-likely-to-flood streets, and still make it to church on time. I decided to do that, and then as I continued to drive a little bit more slowly than I usually would, with the windshield wipers going as fast as they could, we sang the song I'd just played at home:

I know you, and you know me.
We are as different as the sun and the sea.
I know you, and you know me.
And that's the way it is supposed to be.

I help you, and you help me.
We learn from problems, and we're starting to see
I help you, and you help me.
And that's the way it is supposed to be.

I love you, and you love me.
We reach together for the best we can be.
I love you, and you love me.
And that's the way it is supposed to be!

The song has a Caribbean rhythm, and really is fun to sing.

I felt so much more calm and confident afterward.

After our worship service, I took my 4-y-o to the children's chapel, so that I could help her recite a scripture for the children's service.

The chapel was quickly filling up with darling energetic souls, and their devoted teachers, but the pianist was nowhere in sight.

I offered to play a few songs until she showed up, and soon began to play prelude music.

The pianist never showed up, probably because she's having terrible morning sickness.

I was blessed to participate in this most joyous children's worship.

My heart rejoiced with those innocent boys and girls as they sang their testimonies of truth in beautiful songs like "I am a Child of God" and "A Child's Prayer".

As I played newer songs, like "Scripture Power" and "I Know My Savior Loves Me", I was startled at how my childhood practice of sight-reading helped me to help the children.

God loves His children so much, that He prompted me to prepare to play for them.

And I felt so good, just being part of that blessing.

Truth for Tuesday: These are a Few of My Favorite Things

Getting a letter from someone I love

Being given the ability to do something for someone else that I didn't know I could do

Finding a greater love for others as I'm serving them

Hearing my daughters laugh
Seeing my sons smile
Feeling my husband relax

Seeing them excel
Hearing them sing together
Watching them learn

Feeling together

Anxiously Engaged

Maxine Campbell was my hero. I never saw her sitting still. I never saw her standing still. If she was sitting, she was waiting for sacrament meeting to begin, but she was eagerly waiting, thinking, looking for someone, getting her scriptures out, reading, smiling at someone. If she was standing, she was on her way to teach a lesson. And her lessons were memorable!

She taught a powerful Relief Society lesson once about having meaningful family home evenings and having them consistently, and how the tradition became a legacy. I remember that she related to us how she had had a strong desire to have family home evening when her children were young, even though she had not grown up with it; and that she had had to prepare the lessons on her own, since Bishop Campbell traveled a lot; and that she used whatever she had on hand in order to make visual aids for the children. She even mentioned that sometimes when David was little, that Bishop had to call for an intermission, and have David run up and down the stairs, before resuming the lesson. No excuses.

Sister Campbell rescued me at least twice while I was a teenager. There was not a day that went by, it seemed, that my mom wasn't talking to, or about, Maxine. We had her number memorized, and that was long before the advent of caller ID. If Mom wasn't reachable, I knew I could call her best friend. She was always there. My teenage years were no worse than anyone else's, but they were awkward. Many times I was almost paralyzed with fear that I would say or do the wrong thing, and be forever judged for a single word. But when Sister Campbell was there rescuing me in my most embarrassing moments, she was so quick to put me at ease by telling me about her own. She talked to me as if I were her equal. She talked to me about every-day things like a dream she had had the night before, and her plan to send a word processor with Rod when he went off to college.

I remember Sister Campbell came to a baby shower my mom threw for me at Sister Christiansen's home. She made sure I knew that the gifts she brought were not just from her. She explained that although attending a baby shower was too painful for her daughter-in-law, who had already had two beautiful children, but who could have no more, that Sharee had definitely contributed. It was the cutest little pink Piglet outfit!

While I was teaching Primary, I once took a child to the bathroom, and Sister Campbell was there. She observed my interactions with the child, and then told me that I was a good teacher. I did not feel that I deserved the praise, but I felt so appreciated, and I really valued her opinion, because she was just so good.

When I was in the hospital for a short time, she came to visit. I knew she knew what I was going through. During her illness, I was impressed that I so often saw her at church. I heard the prognosis was not great, but she just looked so good! When I asked her how she was doing one Sunday, she just said, "Keep praying for me." And then she was off to take care of some church business. No excuses, no complaints.

Shortly after Sister Campbell had been diagnosed with cancer a second time, she attended our ward's fast and testimony meeting. She stood and started walking toward the pulpit. She tripped and fell. She got right back up and headed forward. She fell again. Up again, and forward she walked. And then she fell a third time. Undeterred, she walked to the pulpit and bore her remarkable testimony. I know my Savior lives.

At Sister Campbell's funeral, I learned, or was reminded, of things about her that surprised me a little bit. Not that they were hard to believe, but I just don't remember her telling me all that stuff, like about how she loved to dance and to go to the beach. I love those things, too. Come to think of it, I really relate to Sister Campbell. She loved my family, especially my mom. I want to be more like Maxine. I want to be a best friend to my mom. I want to give priceless gifts to my children and grandchildren. I want to be in the temple every week.