Travelin’Oma, Week 5, Day 2.
Almost imperceptible.
When I look back at past journal entries, I often cringe. I cannot believe I was so foolish, immature, obnoxious, pathetic, etc.… Mostly, I just want to throw all my journals into a large bonfire and watch the flames lick the edges of the memories and turn them to ashes. I’m not sure if others have such strong feelings about some of their earlier years, but mine usually make me nauseated. I think it’s because I hope I’ve grown and learned to be a wiser, more cautious, deeper person (and let’s add here, more socially adept) and having written records of the past means that I can’t completely let go of it. And worst of all, it is a reminder that others remember me that way as well. Those who are still in close contact with me can let my past fade into the background, because they know who I am now, but what about all the rest?
I have changed dramatically from who I was ten years ago. The changes from day to day seem almost imperceptible. But the changes are there, and I have slowly become a new woman. I hope that the good things about me when I was younger have not been thrown out, but have blossomed and increased in magnitude. And the bad things… well, I could wish them away from everyone else’s memories forever, but that won’t happen in this life.
This has taught me a great lesson about giving others the benefit of the doubt. I hope that those that I knew then and those that I know now will keep growing as well, and won’t remain stagnant. To remember them should be recalling the beautiful, forgiving the ugly, and hoping that they too have made some changes that make them a better man or woman.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
Prayer
Travelin’Oma, Week 5, Day 1. Very tough to narrow down today. I now have much blogging fodder for after this class is over.
Prayer
Today has been a day of much pondering and much gratitude.
I am extremely grateful for prayer. For prayers that are answered like I would like them to be, and also for the peace that comes when my prayers aren’t answered as I would like them to be. This peace is born of the love that I feel from my Heavenly Father, that He knows me and loves me. He wants what is best for me.
I had two specific prayers answered today. One was a simple prayer, requested by Austin. He was trying to find his blue blankie and couldn’t locate it. He came up and snuggled with me and said, “Can we say a prayer? Heavenly Father will help me find my blankie.” The faith of a child is a beautiful thing. He asked me to say the prayer and then we looked for it together, holding hands while we walked around the house. The blanket was in Pa’a’s office. Afterward, he said the prayer of thanks and snuggled with me again. The other is a prayer that I have been repeating in various forms for a few years now. It was a prayer for a good friend of mine. I found out today that the prayer has finally been answered. What an overwhelming joy filled my heart when I heard! Immediately I was consumed with a desire to thank God in prayer for hearing my cries, and surely the cries of many others, in bringing to pass this blessing.
Not all prayers are answered in these ways, but the sweet assurance can come to us whether our desires are carried out or not. There are many, many other prayers I have pled for that have not been answered as I could have foreseen, but God is always there, leading my life, and calming my soul.
One option for today’s assignment was to write a poem. I do not, in any way, confess to being a poet, but will try some free verse poetry to express my feelings this day.
Prayer
Pleading, yearning.
Silent, soothing.
Intimate and eternal,
Prayer delivers peace.
Prayer
Today has been a day of much pondering and much gratitude.
I am extremely grateful for prayer. For prayers that are answered like I would like them to be, and also for the peace that comes when my prayers aren’t answered as I would like them to be. This peace is born of the love that I feel from my Heavenly Father, that He knows me and loves me. He wants what is best for me.
I had two specific prayers answered today. One was a simple prayer, requested by Austin. He was trying to find his blue blankie and couldn’t locate it. He came up and snuggled with me and said, “Can we say a prayer? Heavenly Father will help me find my blankie.” The faith of a child is a beautiful thing. He asked me to say the prayer and then we looked for it together, holding hands while we walked around the house. The blanket was in Pa’a’s office. Afterward, he said the prayer of thanks and snuggled with me again. The other is a prayer that I have been repeating in various forms for a few years now. It was a prayer for a good friend of mine. I found out today that the prayer has finally been answered. What an overwhelming joy filled my heart when I heard! Immediately I was consumed with a desire to thank God in prayer for hearing my cries, and surely the cries of many others, in bringing to pass this blessing.
Not all prayers are answered in these ways, but the sweet assurance can come to us whether our desires are carried out or not. There are many, many other prayers I have pled for that have not been answered as I could have foreseen, but God is always there, leading my life, and calming my soul.
One option for today’s assignment was to write a poem. I do not, in any way, confess to being a poet, but will try some free verse poetry to express my feelings this day.
Prayer
Pleading, yearning.
Silent, soothing.
Intimate and eternal,
Prayer delivers peace.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Happiness
Week 4, Day 5. Thanks Travelin’Oma. I needed this.
10 little things that improved my happiness.
In the last 24 hours, here are some little things that increased my happiness.
1. Listening to Matthew (2 ½ years old) pray and say, “Thank you for my girlie.” (Elizabeth is his girlie.)
2. Having Austin come and sit on my lap and say, “I love you, my mommy.”
3. Tickling Elizabeth’s tummy and have her giggle at me.
4. Observing my mom and Trish during their “work day” (aka sewing day) and enjoying their friendship with each other and also their friendship with me.
5. Eating pot stickers for lunch. Mmm mmm, dee-li-cious!
6. Watching my sister-in-law make progress on quilting a quilt for one of her sons’ Christmas presents and imagining how excited he will be to receive it.
7. Having someone willing to listen to me when I desperately needed it.
8. Quietly recognizing how much my parents still sacrifice for me, my husband, and my children and how willing they are to help ease our burdens, even when incredibly inconvenient to them.
9. Snuggling on the couch with Austin and Matthew while we watched an episode of Little Einsteins together before they went to bed. (The best part is listening to them loudly sing the introduction song.)
10. Praying with my husband over the phone at night even though, for the time being, we cannot be together for most days of the week.
10 little things that improved my happiness.
In the last 24 hours, here are some little things that increased my happiness.
1. Listening to Matthew (2 ½ years old) pray and say, “Thank you for my girlie.” (Elizabeth is his girlie.)
2. Having Austin come and sit on my lap and say, “I love you, my mommy.”
3. Tickling Elizabeth’s tummy and have her giggle at me.
4. Observing my mom and Trish during their “work day” (aka sewing day) and enjoying their friendship with each other and also their friendship with me.
5. Eating pot stickers for lunch. Mmm mmm, dee-li-cious!
6. Watching my sister-in-law make progress on quilting a quilt for one of her sons’ Christmas presents and imagining how excited he will be to receive it.
7. Having someone willing to listen to me when I desperately needed it.
8. Quietly recognizing how much my parents still sacrifice for me, my husband, and my children and how willing they are to help ease our burdens, even when incredibly inconvenient to them.
9. Snuggling on the couch with Austin and Matthew while we watched an episode of Little Einsteins together before they went to bed. (The best part is listening to them loudly sing the introduction song.)
10. Praying with my husband over the phone at night even though, for the time being, we cannot be together for most days of the week.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
A Love of Reading
Travelin’Oma, Week 4, Day 4. I guess Oma and I think alike since I wrote my post about tradition on Tuesday. I loved her article about traditions and it gave me more ideas for today as well, so here we go…
A love of reading.
One thing that I just adore is to give the perfect gift. Whether it is something someone mentioned ages ago that they forgot they wanted or the exact thing they never knew they wanted but now will not be able to live without, I want to give it to them. So far in my marriage, I have done pretty well, if I do say so myself, at giving perfect gifts to my husband, even with his birthday and Christmas only two days apart. But for his birthday one year, I gave him one of the best gifts ever.
Douglas L. Callister once said, “If we know the books located at the bedside, we know much about the man.” Next to Joseph’s bed are mounds of books. Novels, textbooks, collections of essays, and even books about books. Piles and piles. And not just books. Magazines. Articles. Newspapers. There is much by this bedside to tell of this man. I am not allowed to touch this sacred tower of tomes. Heaven forbid I mess up the “organization” of the chaos.
So for his birthday two years ago, I purchased the perfect gift for him. It is called a reader’s night stand and I purchased it from Brookstone. It was on back order, scheduled to ship a month after his birthday, so I was just going to have to tell him about it on his birthday so he could anticipate it until this treasure arrived. Not the ideal situation for a perfect gift. It makes it not quite so perfect. However, to my surprise, it ended up arriving two days before his birthday! While he was at work, I assembled it and then hid it in a closet where he wouldn’t find it. On his birthday, I brought it in to our room while he was sleeping and put it near to his side of the bed. Don’t worry, I didn’t dare put my life in danger by presuming to take his stacks and arrange them on the shelves for him. Near the side of the bed was as close as I could safely place this gem. He was thrilled. It really was the perfect gift. Over the last (almost) two years, the books placed on these shelves have changed from time to time, but it is always full to overflowing, with the excess spilling onto the floor and nearby dressers and shelves.
The book shelf I bought for him
Joseph loves to read. So do I. We both spend much of our time reading. We almost never watch television and rarely watch movies because the excitement of turning the pages of a good story to find out what happens next almost always seems more inviting. We read some of the same books, and each of us read some books the other would never be interested in. My favorite reading we do is reading out loud together. Since we have been married, we have always had a read-aloud selection somewhere in the library collected on my husband’s side of the bed. Over the last five and a half years, our choices have included the following:
Two-Part Invention by Madeleine L’Engle
And Both Were Young by Madeleine L’Engle
Small Rain by Madeleine L’Engle
Severed Wasp by Madeleine L’Engle
Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle
All Creatures Great and Small by James Herriott
Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson
The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkein
Wayne and Elna (a family history of my great-grandparents – my dad’s mother’s parents)
King of the Wind by Marguerite Henry
Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas
The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas
Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes (our current book)
We also read to our children. I read to them. Joseph reads to them. And, as mentioned in a recent blog post, Joseph also is sharing the wonders of The Little House in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder with them before they go to sleep at night.
However, the most magical thing of all is that they love reading on their own. Funny enough, neither of them actually knows how to read. That doesn’t stop them. They are intrepid in their literary pursuits regardless of ability to read the words on the pages. They read books from our extensive children’s book shelves, they ask to check out books from the public library, and Austin has started pouring over Calvin and Hobbes and Baby Blues and laughing hysterically at whatever stories he is telling himself as he looks at the pictures. When they go to their room for a time out, and I come to let them know they are finished, I often hear the response, “Just a minute, I have to finish my book first.” In the afternoon they have to take a rest for about two hours. Matthew starts off reading and usually falls asleep. Austin reads for the full two hours.
And one of the sweetest things I have witnessed when checking on my children at bedtime, was the following scene (it actually happens with both children fairly frequently):
A love of reading is a heritage we received from our parents. A love of reading is now a tradition established and shared in our small family, young and old alike.
A love of reading.
One thing that I just adore is to give the perfect gift. Whether it is something someone mentioned ages ago that they forgot they wanted or the exact thing they never knew they wanted but now will not be able to live without, I want to give it to them. So far in my marriage, I have done pretty well, if I do say so myself, at giving perfect gifts to my husband, even with his birthday and Christmas only two days apart. But for his birthday one year, I gave him one of the best gifts ever.
Douglas L. Callister once said, “If we know the books located at the bedside, we know much about the man.” Next to Joseph’s bed are mounds of books. Novels, textbooks, collections of essays, and even books about books. Piles and piles. And not just books. Magazines. Articles. Newspapers. There is much by this bedside to tell of this man. I am not allowed to touch this sacred tower of tomes. Heaven forbid I mess up the “organization” of the chaos.
So for his birthday two years ago, I purchased the perfect gift for him. It is called a reader’s night stand and I purchased it from Brookstone. It was on back order, scheduled to ship a month after his birthday, so I was just going to have to tell him about it on his birthday so he could anticipate it until this treasure arrived. Not the ideal situation for a perfect gift. It makes it not quite so perfect. However, to my surprise, it ended up arriving two days before his birthday! While he was at work, I assembled it and then hid it in a closet where he wouldn’t find it. On his birthday, I brought it in to our room while he was sleeping and put it near to his side of the bed. Don’t worry, I didn’t dare put my life in danger by presuming to take his stacks and arrange them on the shelves for him. Near the side of the bed was as close as I could safely place this gem. He was thrilled. It really was the perfect gift. Over the last (almost) two years, the books placed on these shelves have changed from time to time, but it is always full to overflowing, with the excess spilling onto the floor and nearby dressers and shelves.
The book shelf I bought for himJoseph loves to read. So do I. We both spend much of our time reading. We almost never watch television and rarely watch movies because the excitement of turning the pages of a good story to find out what happens next almost always seems more inviting. We read some of the same books, and each of us read some books the other would never be interested in. My favorite reading we do is reading out loud together. Since we have been married, we have always had a read-aloud selection somewhere in the library collected on my husband’s side of the bed. Over the last five and a half years, our choices have included the following:
Two-Part Invention by Madeleine L’Engle
And Both Were Young by Madeleine L’Engle
Small Rain by Madeleine L’Engle
Severed Wasp by Madeleine L’Engle
Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle
All Creatures Great and Small by James Herriott
Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson
The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkein
Wayne and Elna (a family history of my great-grandparents – my dad’s mother’s parents)
King of the Wind by Marguerite Henry
Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas
The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas
Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes (our current book)
We also read to our children. I read to them. Joseph reads to them. And, as mentioned in a recent blog post, Joseph also is sharing the wonders of The Little House in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder with them before they go to sleep at night.
However, the most magical thing of all is that they love reading on their own. Funny enough, neither of them actually knows how to read. That doesn’t stop them. They are intrepid in their literary pursuits regardless of ability to read the words on the pages. They read books from our extensive children’s book shelves, they ask to check out books from the public library, and Austin has started pouring over Calvin and Hobbes and Baby Blues and laughing hysterically at whatever stories he is telling himself as he looks at the pictures. When they go to their room for a time out, and I come to let them know they are finished, I often hear the response, “Just a minute, I have to finish my book first.” In the afternoon they have to take a rest for about two hours. Matthew starts off reading and usually falls asleep. Austin reads for the full two hours.
And one of the sweetest things I have witnessed when checking on my children at bedtime, was the following scene (it actually happens with both children fairly frequently):
A love of reading is a heritage we received from our parents. A love of reading is now a tradition established and shared in our small family, young and old alike.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
World War II
Travelin’Oma: Week 4, Day 3. This one gave me a lot to ponder.
World War II
Today I have tried to pinpoint precisely what it is that I love about books written about World War II, but I am somewhat at a loss. Maybe it is that each story is such a mixture of human emotion, complex and personal, where each man or woman has to find out who they really are and what they believe in. I never judge or blame those who gave in to the pain and suffering – their grief was unimaginable, but I rejoice in the stalwart and courageous who found hope in the darkest of night. What beauty lies in the sacrifices of those who struggled mightily for life when death clung to the hem of their garments, dragging and pulling the reason to live out from underneath them! Beautiful people are not shaped by lives of ease, lives devoid of hardship. Beautiful people are born in the trials, the challenges, and the depths of suffering so deep that they are alone with their Maker. This beauty may or may not be external, but the spirit of the soul shines through their eyes as they conquer and overcome and arrive at a place where, death or life, they know that their light cannot be taken from them.
There are so many wonderful books written about WWII, but I am going to share a few that are not as obvious in some ways.
Exodus by Leon Uris. Many people don’t know that this book has so much to do with WWII. It is the story of the birth of the state of Israel, but integral to that story are the stories of the Jews who needed something to live for and land of their own after WWII. This is one of my top five books ever. Read it. Now. The movie cannot do it justice.
A Town Like Alice by Nevil Shute. In part, this tells the story of an English girl who experiences the war in Malaya, and her experiences in the aftermath of the war.
North to Freedom by Anne Holm. This has been retitled I Am David. This is a story of a child’s perspective following his experience in a concentration camp. Beautiful. Fascinating.
Yellow Star by Jennifer Roy. I loved this. It was very well done, and based on a true story. It is told from the eyes of a child, and written in free verse. A quick read, but so well done.
World War II
Today I have tried to pinpoint precisely what it is that I love about books written about World War II, but I am somewhat at a loss. Maybe it is that each story is such a mixture of human emotion, complex and personal, where each man or woman has to find out who they really are and what they believe in. I never judge or blame those who gave in to the pain and suffering – their grief was unimaginable, but I rejoice in the stalwart and courageous who found hope in the darkest of night. What beauty lies in the sacrifices of those who struggled mightily for life when death clung to the hem of their garments, dragging and pulling the reason to live out from underneath them! Beautiful people are not shaped by lives of ease, lives devoid of hardship. Beautiful people are born in the trials, the challenges, and the depths of suffering so deep that they are alone with their Maker. This beauty may or may not be external, but the spirit of the soul shines through their eyes as they conquer and overcome and arrive at a place where, death or life, they know that their light cannot be taken from them.
There are so many wonderful books written about WWII, but I am going to share a few that are not as obvious in some ways.
Exodus by Leon Uris. Many people don’t know that this book has so much to do with WWII. It is the story of the birth of the state of Israel, but integral to that story are the stories of the Jews who needed something to live for and land of their own after WWII. This is one of my top five books ever. Read it. Now. The movie cannot do it justice.
A Town Like Alice by Nevil Shute. In part, this tells the story of an English girl who experiences the war in Malaya, and her experiences in the aftermath of the war.
North to Freedom by Anne Holm. This has been retitled I Am David. This is a story of a child’s perspective following his experience in a concentration camp. Beautiful. Fascinating.
Yellow Star by Jennifer Roy. I loved this. It was very well done, and based on a true story. It is told from the eyes of a child, and written in free verse. A quick read, but so well done.
Bed
This morning, while my children were building farms for their animals and gathering up their "guys" (sensory balls that their Uncle Ray just purchased for the nieces and nephews to enjoy at G'ma's house), Austin shared the following with me:
Austin: Mom, I'm going to bed. I'm sorry, Mom. I just need to go to bed.
Silly Austin! Don't you know that what you just told me is every mother's dream?! No complaints on my part, that's for sure.
Austin: Mom, I'm going to bed. I'm sorry, Mom. I just need to go to bed.
Silly Austin! Don't you know that what you just told me is every mother's dream?! No complaints on my part, that's for sure.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Tradition
When I was young, I was lucky enough to go see two theater productions at the Glendale Centre Theatre in Glendale, California, founded by Ruth and Nathan Hale. In this theater-in-the-round venue, I was able to watch the musicals Oliver and The King and I. I remember being absolutely fascinated by the theater-in-the-round concept, completely new to me at the time. I loved this cultural experience.
Glendale Centre Theatre:
Joseph and I went on our first "official" date to the HCTO to see Man of La Mancha, a favorite play of ours to this day. We went to see it again with my parents when they came to visit and meet Joseph for the first time.
Then, as one of the best, and most thoughtful, Christmas gifts either of us have ever received, my siblings gave us season tickets for the 2007 season at HCTO for Christmas 2006. They got us the tickets and offered free babysitting as well. What a marvelous present! Since then we have continued the tradition ourselves each season and they have continued to help babysit for our season tickets. This year, Jonathan and Amy have joined us in our play-attending dates.
This well-established tradition now consists of attending a Saturday Matinee showing of each play and then going out to dinner afterward, almost always to Bombay House in Provo. I am a fairly predictable person in many ways and I always order the garlic na'an and the Chicken Tikka Masala, without fail. I just adore the Chicken Tikka Masala and it is one of the only meals I order at a restaurant where I eat the leftovers (if there are any), and Joseph doesn't eat mine in addition to his own.
Last Saturday we saw Over the River and Through the Woods, the 150th production of the HCTO. We love it there and are grateful for Ruth and Nathan Hale's love of theater that they passed on to their children so that we continue to cherish this special tradition.
Glendale Centre Theatre:
When I moved to Utah, I was once more introduced to the Hale Family's genious at the Hale Center Theater in Orem (HCTO). One of my best friends, Kapri, was in some of the plays there: Camelot and A Christmas Carol come to mind. A few of my other of my friends were in several others: Pirates of Penzance, Man of La Mancha, A Christmas Carol, Beauty and the Beast, and She Loves Me.
Joseph and I went on our first "official" date to the HCTO to see Man of La Mancha, a favorite play of ours to this day. We went to see it again with my parents when they came to visit and meet Joseph for the first time.
Then, as one of the best, and most thoughtful, Christmas gifts either of us have ever received, my siblings gave us season tickets for the 2007 season at HCTO for Christmas 2006. They got us the tickets and offered free babysitting as well. What a marvelous present! Since then we have continued the tradition ourselves each season and they have continued to help babysit for our season tickets. This year, Jonathan and Amy have joined us in our play-attending dates.
This well-established tradition now consists of attending a Saturday Matinee showing of each play and then going out to dinner afterward, almost always to Bombay House in Provo. I am a fairly predictable person in many ways and I always order the garlic na'an and the Chicken Tikka Masala, without fail. I just adore the Chicken Tikka Masala and it is one of the only meals I order at a restaurant where I eat the leftovers (if there are any), and Joseph doesn't eat mine in addition to his own.
Last Saturday we saw Over the River and Through the Woods, the 150th production of the HCTO. We love it there and are grateful for Ruth and Nathan Hale's love of theater that they passed on to their children so that we continue to cherish this special tradition.
Family Pictures July 2009
I know that I posted these awhile ago on my sidebar, but for bigger pictures, or to see them at all if you are a GoogleReader fan, here they are. They were taken by my uncle who is a photographer. His website is http://www.charleswestphotography.com/. His work is fabulous and we have loved the results of the many photo sessions we have had with him over the years.
Monday, September 21, 2009
"Every party has a pooper..."
Travelin’Oma Week 4, Day 1. This class is fabulous and thought-provoking.
“Every party has a pooper…”
My husband and I have a pact: no surprise parties for each other. Not ever. No, really, never. If Joseph finds out about one being planned for me by someone else, he will report it to me immediately, and vice versa. In fact, we dislike surprise parties so much that we avoid attending them when they are given for other people at almost any cost. That is how uncomfortable they make us.
I know it may seem that I am a party pooper and I very well may be. But too many times things go wrong. Or people get anxious or embarrassed. Is that how you want to say “Happy Birthday,” by embarrassing the Birthday Girl or Boy? I certainly hope not.
Yet… I know there are people who love these kinds of things and thrive on the thrill of a surprise party. I cannot understand that in the least, but try to make allowances for people who purportedly enjoy them. I happen to be friends with some of these very nice individuals, but have difficulty relating to them in this particular facet of birthday experiences.
Therefore, I am just asking for two things here:
1)If you are going to throw a surprise party for someone,
do it because they love a surprise, not because you do, and
2) Never, I repeat, NEVER throw a surprise party for me
or I will very likely not be your friend any longer.
“Every party has a pooper…”
My husband and I have a pact: no surprise parties for each other. Not ever. No, really, never. If Joseph finds out about one being planned for me by someone else, he will report it to me immediately, and vice versa. In fact, we dislike surprise parties so much that we avoid attending them when they are given for other people at almost any cost. That is how uncomfortable they make us.
I know it may seem that I am a party pooper and I very well may be. But too many times things go wrong. Or people get anxious or embarrassed. Is that how you want to say “Happy Birthday,” by embarrassing the Birthday Girl or Boy? I certainly hope not.
Yet… I know there are people who love these kinds of things and thrive on the thrill of a surprise party. I cannot understand that in the least, but try to make allowances for people who purportedly enjoy them. I happen to be friends with some of these very nice individuals, but have difficulty relating to them in this particular facet of birthday experiences.
Therefore, I am just asking for two things here:
1)If you are going to throw a surprise party for someone,
do it because they love a surprise, not because you do, and
2) Never, I repeat, NEVER throw a surprise party for me
or I will very likely not be your friend any longer.
Friday, September 18, 2009
I am tired of wearing my hair in a bun every day.
Travelin’Oma, Week 3, Day 5. One fourth of the way through the class. (Can you tell I am a math person?!)
I am tired of wearing my hair in a bun every day.
“You must do everything you can to make your appearance pleasing, but the minute you walk out the door, forget yourself and start concentrating on others.” – Susan W. Tanner
I have loved this quote since the first time I heard it. Much of my life I have been very self-conscious of myself in public, both physically and otherwise. This thought from Susan W. Tanner was a revelation! I love the balance that it implies: we should look our best, but then focus on serving and helping others feel comfortable with themselves and loved. One or the other is not the answer, but a combination of both.
That said, today I have been thinking a lot about the first part – the looking our best part. It is important to feel good about how you look. Some days I do alright, other days, not so much. I did a lot of reevaluation this afternoon of my own personal style. I have been discouraged the last few weeks about this particular topic, largely due to the fact that all but about four of my shirts and two pairs of capris are packed away in a storage unit in Wendover until we find a place to live. Similarly, my curlers and straightener for my hair are also packed. Fortunately, I kept out a few pairs of fun earrings, and they have saved me from going straight to frump-ville as I have been wearing the same clothes over and over with my hair in a bun or braid every day. Even though I can’t fix those problems for now (although my mom did offer to lend me her curlers until we officially relocate), I did come to a couple of conclusions after hashing it out with my mom that should help in the future.
I suppose the key to this, and many other areas of life, is to reevaluate often. Am I projecting the kind of person I think I am deep down inside? Do I seem approachable and gracious? Are there ruts I am stuck in that are making things worse? What is one (inexpensive) way that I can immediately feel like I’ve had style pick-me-up?
Maybe as I’m hanging up my skirts and folding my sweaters and placing them on the shelves of my new closet, I can have these questions in mind and make some more headway.
I am tired of wearing my hair in a bun every day.
“You must do everything you can to make your appearance pleasing, but the minute you walk out the door, forget yourself and start concentrating on others.” – Susan W. Tanner
I have loved this quote since the first time I heard it. Much of my life I have been very self-conscious of myself in public, both physically and otherwise. This thought from Susan W. Tanner was a revelation! I love the balance that it implies: we should look our best, but then focus on serving and helping others feel comfortable with themselves and loved. One or the other is not the answer, but a combination of both.
That said, today I have been thinking a lot about the first part – the looking our best part. It is important to feel good about how you look. Some days I do alright, other days, not so much. I did a lot of reevaluation this afternoon of my own personal style. I have been discouraged the last few weeks about this particular topic, largely due to the fact that all but about four of my shirts and two pairs of capris are packed away in a storage unit in Wendover until we find a place to live. Similarly, my curlers and straightener for my hair are also packed. Fortunately, I kept out a few pairs of fun earrings, and they have saved me from going straight to frump-ville as I have been wearing the same clothes over and over with my hair in a bun or braid every day. Even though I can’t fix those problems for now (although my mom did offer to lend me her curlers until we officially relocate), I did come to a couple of conclusions after hashing it out with my mom that should help in the future.
I suppose the key to this, and many other areas of life, is to reevaluate often. Am I projecting the kind of person I think I am deep down inside? Do I seem approachable and gracious? Are there ruts I am stuck in that are making things worse? What is one (inexpensive) way that I can immediately feel like I’ve had style pick-me-up?
Maybe as I’m hanging up my skirts and folding my sweaters and placing them on the shelves of my new closet, I can have these questions in mind and make some more headway.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Follow-up Post on The Big Question
So after writing my post this morning about The Big Question, I was feeding my boys lunch and we were chatting. Here is part of the conversation that we had. (Note: Austin is my four year old, Matthew is my two and a half year old.)
Austin: When I am a big man, I will grow a baby boy in my tummy and then he will come out and I will be so excited to see the baby boy.
Me: Well... actually, boys don't grow babies in their tummies, just girls do.
Austin: No. I will grow a baby boy. Girls grow baby girls.
Me: Not really. Just -
Austin: (interrupting me) And when Matthew was little, he was in my tummy for fifteen years, and then he came out!
Wow. I have a lot more to teach them I guess... I am certainly glad that my gestation period is not fifteen years. 40 weeks is long enough for me.
Austin: When I am a big man, I will grow a baby boy in my tummy and then he will come out and I will be so excited to see the baby boy.
Me: Well... actually, boys don't grow babies in their tummies, just girls do.
Austin: No. I will grow a baby boy. Girls grow baby girls.
Me: Not really. Just -
Austin: (interrupting me) And when Matthew was little, he was in my tummy for fifteen years, and then he came out!
Wow. I have a lot more to teach them I guess... I am certainly glad that my gestation period is not fifteen years. 40 weeks is long enough for me.
Done and Done.
I finished another project. My "coupon clutches," that I got the pattern for on Moda Bake Shop. I am using them in my purse - one for money and coupons, the other for my planner, pens, check book, post-it notes, etc. I learned many new things on this one. I've never used Pellon before, or the magnetic clasps.
The Big Question
Travelin’Oma, this was a tough one. Week 3, Day 4.
The big question.
My children are small, but I am already dreading the big question: “Where did I come from?” We have already had several related questions since, 1) I have very observant children and my husband and I do not have qualms about being bare in front of them, 2) my two oldest are boys and are fascinated with their own genitalia, and 3) my oldest children were very mindful of my changing body and the expectation of a sister when I was pregnant with my youngest.
I am not sure exactly how we will field these questions yet, but I hope to do so openly and to have already fostered a safe environment for our children to ask questions. They may still be traumatized, because I think most children are when they figure out that that is how they were able to come to this earth.
My parents were very open with us and they used the book Where Did I Come From? by Peter Mayle and I thought it was helpful, I guess? I will probably use it with my own children.
Fortunately, I have a few years to figure this one out. And with all parenting, relying on the Spirit to help your children learn is always the best way to do things.
The big question.
My children are small, but I am already dreading the big question: “Where did I come from?” We have already had several related questions since, 1) I have very observant children and my husband and I do not have qualms about being bare in front of them, 2) my two oldest are boys and are fascinated with their own genitalia, and 3) my oldest children were very mindful of my changing body and the expectation of a sister when I was pregnant with my youngest.
I am not sure exactly how we will field these questions yet, but I hope to do so openly and to have already fostered a safe environment for our children to ask questions. They may still be traumatized, because I think most children are when they figure out that that is how they were able to come to this earth.
My parents were very open with us and they used the book Where Did I Come From? by Peter Mayle and I thought it was helpful, I guess? I will probably use it with my own children.
Fortunately, I have a few years to figure this one out. And with all parenting, relying on the Spirit to help your children learn is always the best way to do things.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Little House in the Big Woods
Travelin’Oma Week 3, Day 3. This is only scratching the surface, but I wanted to post something.
Little House in the Big Woods.
My Grandma Jody has read to me since I was a small girl. I remember sitting with my sister, one of us on each side of her, while she read books to us. Sometimes she read in the car while we took trips. And sometimes her eyes got heavier and heavier as she read and she would nod off midsentence.
The first book I remember her reading to us was Little House in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder. Oh! how we loved it! She read the next book or two in the series to us and then I went on to read the remainder by myself. Over the years I have read these books many, many times.
One of the times that I read it was when I read it aloud to my youngest sister before she went to bed each night, when she was young. That was a wonderful time for us to be together and for me to share with her my love for reading and this special book.
Now, my husband is reading this book to our young boys, ages 4 and 2 ½. Often we all snuggle in our bed together while he reads to them – and to me. I am taken back to my grandma’s lap as I close my eyes and listen while simultaneously we create similar sweet memories with our own children.
Little House in the Big Woods.
My Grandma Jody has read to me since I was a small girl. I remember sitting with my sister, one of us on each side of her, while she read books to us. Sometimes she read in the car while we took trips. And sometimes her eyes got heavier and heavier as she read and she would nod off midsentence.
The first book I remember her reading to us was Little House in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder. Oh! how we loved it! She read the next book or two in the series to us and then I went on to read the remainder by myself. Over the years I have read these books many, many times.
One of the times that I read it was when I read it aloud to my youngest sister before she went to bed each night, when she was young. That was a wonderful time for us to be together and for me to share with her my love for reading and this special book.
Now, my husband is reading this book to our young boys, ages 4 and 2 ½. Often we all snuggle in our bed together while he reads to them – and to me. I am taken back to my grandma’s lap as I close my eyes and listen while simultaneously we create similar sweet memories with our own children.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Packing Light
Travelin’Oma, your post today was right on and gave me some great ideas for packing in the future… Week 3, Day2.
Packing light.
The plane reached the Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris later than scheduled and as the passengers exited, Joseph and his fellow travelers hurried quickly to deplane, knowing it would be a real feat to make the next flight on time with the delay encountered already. As they rushed into the concourse and up to the counter to check on the gate for the connecting flight, they were devastated to find that their luggage was not being transferred automatically and that they would have to retrieve it themselves and then check it in to their next flight. There was very little chance of catching the next flight, the one taking them to their destination of Madagascar, unless they left the luggage behind. As the others in the expedition frantically attempted to communicate with the airline employees about how to take care of the situation, Joseph casually walked over to a phone booth and called me with his calling card. “Wow, I’m glad I only ever travel with carry-on and never check luggage,” were the first words out of his mouth following his greeting.
That is precisely how I feel as well. As far as I can tell, it seems fairly rare to have two people with such sentiments married to one another. We are a few of the lucky, I suppose. Both Joseph and I almost never check luggage. In all of his trips around the world, and within the United States, he keeps it to one carry-on and a small bag for a book or snacks. In my many adventures, I have tried to do so as well, although I have gotten better about it over the years. Even on my six week trip to Europe, I took only a backpack (small enough to easily fit in the overhead compartment) and a small satchel and that had all the belongings I could have wanted. So did my companions. It made our trip much less hectic than the episode a year later when Joseph’s traveling companions had not.
The debacle in the airport in Paris is only one of many reasons that we are strong advocates of carry-ons. Have you had any experiences to add to the list of why it is nice to not check luggage?
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Me and a friend of mine in Bacharach, Germany, each with all our luggage for six weeks. June 2004.
Packing light.
The plane reached the Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris later than scheduled and as the passengers exited, Joseph and his fellow travelers hurried quickly to deplane, knowing it would be a real feat to make the next flight on time with the delay encountered already. As they rushed into the concourse and up to the counter to check on the gate for the connecting flight, they were devastated to find that their luggage was not being transferred automatically and that they would have to retrieve it themselves and then check it in to their next flight. There was very little chance of catching the next flight, the one taking them to their destination of Madagascar, unless they left the luggage behind. As the others in the expedition frantically attempted to communicate with the airline employees about how to take care of the situation, Joseph casually walked over to a phone booth and called me with his calling card. “Wow, I’m glad I only ever travel with carry-on and never check luggage,” were the first words out of his mouth following his greeting.
That is precisely how I feel as well. As far as I can tell, it seems fairly rare to have two people with such sentiments married to one another. We are a few of the lucky, I suppose. Both Joseph and I almost never check luggage. In all of his trips around the world, and within the United States, he keeps it to one carry-on and a small bag for a book or snacks. In my many adventures, I have tried to do so as well, although I have gotten better about it over the years. Even on my six week trip to Europe, I took only a backpack (small enough to easily fit in the overhead compartment) and a small satchel and that had all the belongings I could have wanted. So did my companions. It made our trip much less hectic than the episode a year later when Joseph’s traveling companions had not.
The debacle in the airport in Paris is only one of many reasons that we are strong advocates of carry-ons. Have you had any experiences to add to the list of why it is nice to not check luggage?
+Audrey+and+James+in+Bacharach,+Germany+on+20+June+2003.jpg)
Me and a friend of mine in Bacharach, Germany, each with all our luggage for six weeks. June 2004.Monday, September 14, 2009
Excuses
Travelin’Oma, here I go. Week 3, Day 1.
Excuses.
So I made a list of ten things today that keep me from writing. They were all just excuses. When I tried to think of how to remedy these things that keep me away from capturing my thoughts in words, the solution to each was, “You know your way around this problem easily. You are just afraid.” I have many things implemented that I need to write already. My three children all take a “rest” every afternoon for a few hours. Some days they fall asleep, other days they just read, but it is time for me for a couple hours every day. I already carry notebooks in my purse, have them by my bed, have lists of ideas for projects and other to-do items scattered everyway (scattered in a pretty organized way, actually) and could easily use this system to write down things to write about. But instead I mull them over in my mind, too afraid to write them down. I have a very thorough filing and digital system to document quotes, thoughts, etc. But there the ideas remain idle, never to be put to use creatively.
As I mentioned earlier, fear is the main culprit (and the main excuse, so it seems…). I am afraid that something that seems really funny or meaningful in my head will sputter and collapse and end up displayed for all to see as the inadequate and incomplete thought that comes out when I write. I will have exposed myself and be left standing while everyone points their fingers and laughs. Or worse, they will walk away bored and confused.
This all seems pretty pathetic. But, sadly, it's true.
I didn’t want to write this post, because I don’t want pity. I am still processing why this is such a battle and trying very hard to work through it. I guess I didn’t know how deep it really ran until I have had such an unnerving time facing it today.
So I will attempt to throw off the excuses, and use these systems that I have in place to learn. To overcome. To conquer. To be a better woman. And to teach my children that just because something is difficult – or specifically because it is so difficult – is precisely why it is worth working on.
Excuses.
So I made a list of ten things today that keep me from writing. They were all just excuses. When I tried to think of how to remedy these things that keep me away from capturing my thoughts in words, the solution to each was, “You know your way around this problem easily. You are just afraid.” I have many things implemented that I need to write already. My three children all take a “rest” every afternoon for a few hours. Some days they fall asleep, other days they just read, but it is time for me for a couple hours every day. I already carry notebooks in my purse, have them by my bed, have lists of ideas for projects and other to-do items scattered everyway (scattered in a pretty organized way, actually) and could easily use this system to write down things to write about. But instead I mull them over in my mind, too afraid to write them down. I have a very thorough filing and digital system to document quotes, thoughts, etc. But there the ideas remain idle, never to be put to use creatively.
As I mentioned earlier, fear is the main culprit (and the main excuse, so it seems…). I am afraid that something that seems really funny or meaningful in my head will sputter and collapse and end up displayed for all to see as the inadequate and incomplete thought that comes out when I write. I will have exposed myself and be left standing while everyone points their fingers and laughs. Or worse, they will walk away bored and confused.
This all seems pretty pathetic. But, sadly, it's true.
I didn’t want to write this post, because I don’t want pity. I am still processing why this is such a battle and trying very hard to work through it. I guess I didn’t know how deep it really ran until I have had such an unnerving time facing it today.
So I will attempt to throw off the excuses, and use these systems that I have in place to learn. To overcome. To conquer. To be a better woman. And to teach my children that just because something is difficult – or specifically because it is so difficult – is precisely why it is worth working on.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Elizabeth's First Hair Cut
So our girlie got her hair cut. Five months old. She had a mullet. It had to go.
I took her to Cookie Cutters, a children's "salon" down the street yesterday and took a million pictures while they cut away. Okay not a million pictures, but possibly 53. Here are several to show you. It is definitely an improvement. The top of her hair is still as big as ever, but the back doesn't look so bad anymore. She was extremely well behaved and didn't fuss at all. Phew!
After picture (back) - notice the lack of a mullet:
After picture (front):
I took her to Cookie Cutters, a children's "salon" down the street yesterday and took a million pictures while they cut away. Okay not a million pictures, but possibly 53. Here are several to show you. It is definitely an improvement. The top of her hair is still as big as ever, but the back doesn't look so bad anymore. She was extremely well behaved and didn't fuss at all. Phew!
Before picture (front):
Before picture (back) - notice the aforementioned mullet:
Getting it wet and ready to trim:
Snip. Snip. Snip.
That's right. Highly unsanitary. She's eating the wheel. And she's enjoying it:
The stylist decided to see if Elizabeth would let her round-brush her hair with a blow dryer. She did indeed let her, willingly:
After picture (back) - notice the lack of a mullet:
After picture (front):
When I Am Old
Travelin’Oma assignment for Week 2, Day 5. Lest you be concerned, I did my assignment yesterday as well, but it was for commenting on her blog, not posting anything here.
When I am old.
When the years have passed and I have lived my life, I hope that my face reflects the wisdom I have gained from my trials, not just the weariness of the trials. I hope the wrinkles and creases speak of kindnesses given and received through the decades. I hope my eyes shine with faith stronger than sight. I hope those same eyes look gently on those around me, communicating to them that they are always safe with me. I hope that my features convey courage and a passion for living and loving.
I am not there yet, but I hope to get there as I live the years between now and then to their fullest.
When I am old.
When the years have passed and I have lived my life, I hope that my face reflects the wisdom I have gained from my trials, not just the weariness of the trials. I hope the wrinkles and creases speak of kindnesses given and received through the decades. I hope my eyes shine with faith stronger than sight. I hope those same eyes look gently on those around me, communicating to them that they are always safe with me. I hope that my features convey courage and a passion for living and loving.
I am not there yet, but I hope to get there as I live the years between now and then to their fullest.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Utah Museum of Natural History
The Utah Museum of Natural History (UMNH), located at the University of Utah, is free the first Monday of every month. (On a side note, the Utah Museum of Fine Arts, also located at the University of Utah, is free the first Wednesday of every month.) So during the first week of August, a playgroup I get together with changed our outing from a Tuesday to a Monday to go to the Frog Exhibit. My boys were in heaven. Austin coincidentally wore his frog shirt that day as well. Here are some pictures. By the way, I'm not exactly sure why Matthew looks so weird in that picture. He was so excited and asked me to take the picture. It sure doesn't look like it though...
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Good and Bad.
Travelin’Oma, Week 2, Day 3. I am really enjoying this class even though it has been very hard for me.
Good and bad.
In some ways I have an excellent memory. I can remember phone numbers of friends from first grade, I can recall which month and year my book club has read each book, and I know almost all the words to many of the hymns at church – all without trying. Sometimes I work at it, however. When I taught middle school, I could memorize all 200 or so of my students’ first and last names and match them with their faces by the end of the first day. That took work, but it wasn’t too hard. I have a gift for things like that and am very, very grateful for this gift that I have been given by God.
However, when it comes to remembering plots or details from books, I am a failure. The details are certainly gone within about an hour of finishing the book and the plot has been stricken from my mind after about 6 months. Completely stricken. This is part of the reason that I keep a book journal, to at least remember what I have read and if I liked it, since it is likely that I won’t remember much more than that later on. Thus, my “Books to Read” list contains many books that I know I have read, but I couldn’t tell you one character or event that took place within the pages. Sometimes this makes me very sad. How many good books have slipped from my mind and aren’t there to relish in the quiet hours! Luckily, in addition to the bad side of forgetting the tales, there is also a good side. The good side is that each time I reread a book, I am almost always surprised by its twists and turns and enjoy it like the first reading – even if I have already read it five times before.
Here are five of the books that grace that list:
Books Read Long Ago (or not so long ago, in my case) Which It's Now Time To Reread
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
The Caine Mutiny by Herman Wouk
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
Ex Libris by Anne Fadiman
West With the Night by Beryl Markham
Good and bad.
In some ways I have an excellent memory. I can remember phone numbers of friends from first grade, I can recall which month and year my book club has read each book, and I know almost all the words to many of the hymns at church – all without trying. Sometimes I work at it, however. When I taught middle school, I could memorize all 200 or so of my students’ first and last names and match them with their faces by the end of the first day. That took work, but it wasn’t too hard. I have a gift for things like that and am very, very grateful for this gift that I have been given by God.
However, when it comes to remembering plots or details from books, I am a failure. The details are certainly gone within about an hour of finishing the book and the plot has been stricken from my mind after about 6 months. Completely stricken. This is part of the reason that I keep a book journal, to at least remember what I have read and if I liked it, since it is likely that I won’t remember much more than that later on. Thus, my “Books to Read” list contains many books that I know I have read, but I couldn’t tell you one character or event that took place within the pages. Sometimes this makes me very sad. How many good books have slipped from my mind and aren’t there to relish in the quiet hours! Luckily, in addition to the bad side of forgetting the tales, there is also a good side. The good side is that each time I reread a book, I am almost always surprised by its twists and turns and enjoy it like the first reading – even if I have already read it five times before.
Here are five of the books that grace that list:
Books Read Long Ago (or not so long ago, in my case) Which It's Now Time To Reread
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
The Caine Mutiny by Herman Wouk
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
Ex Libris by Anne Fadiman
West With the Night by Beryl Markham
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Sweden
Travelin’Oma, Week 2, Day 2.
Family History is one of the things I love to do best. I have been involved in many aspects of it in the past: personal histories, scrapbooking, scanning old family photographs to preserve precious memories, and researching and finding ancestors. I love it all. Recently my mom (my first and foremost family history accomplice) received an email sharing unknown information about some ancestors a few generations back, indicating their homeland to be Sweden. Since then I have thought a lot about how wonderful it would be to travel to Sweden to find more about the generations of my family that lived there. Additionally, in all my travels, Sweden is one place I have never been. With the homework prompts from Travelin’Oma, I did quite a bit of research today on traveling there and I am getting very excited for a trip I will take sometime in the unknown future.
As always, Rick Steves is my favorite guide for traveling (although I would always recommend having one or two other guidebooks handy when you are abroad – they have saved me in a few emergencies in the past when an immediate solution was needed and Rick didn’t have the information for precisely what I lacked). I find his blend of obvious tourist attractions and the more subtle but moving “back door” experiences to be a fabulous combination in travel. In fact, we enjoy his suggestions so much that my husband gave me the entire DVD collection of the Rick Steves’ television series a couple of years ago for my birthday. I wanted to pull out his episode on Sweden and watch it tonight, but unfortunately it is still packed from our move and there is no prayer of locating it. I’ll have to postpone that for another day, but it will just prolong my daydreaming as I look forward to it.
Family History is one of the things I love to do best. I have been involved in many aspects of it in the past: personal histories, scrapbooking, scanning old family photographs to preserve precious memories, and researching and finding ancestors. I love it all. Recently my mom (my first and foremost family history accomplice) received an email sharing unknown information about some ancestors a few generations back, indicating their homeland to be Sweden. Since then I have thought a lot about how wonderful it would be to travel to Sweden to find more about the generations of my family that lived there. Additionally, in all my travels, Sweden is one place I have never been. With the homework prompts from Travelin’Oma, I did quite a bit of research today on traveling there and I am getting very excited for a trip I will take sometime in the unknown future.
As always, Rick Steves is my favorite guide for traveling (although I would always recommend having one or two other guidebooks handy when you are abroad – they have saved me in a few emergencies in the past when an immediate solution was needed and Rick didn’t have the information for precisely what I lacked). I find his blend of obvious tourist attractions and the more subtle but moving “back door” experiences to be a fabulous combination in travel. In fact, we enjoy his suggestions so much that my husband gave me the entire DVD collection of the Rick Steves’ television series a couple of years ago for my birthday. I wanted to pull out his episode on Sweden and watch it tonight, but unfortunately it is still packed from our move and there is no prayer of locating it. I’ll have to postpone that for another day, but it will just prolong my daydreaming as I look forward to it.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Jobs I Would Love
Another week of Travelin’Oma assignments. Week 2, Day 1. I was looking forward to this all weekend.
Jobs I would love.
There are so many jobs that I would just love to have. Where do I start?
A university professor. I absolutely loved teaching at BYU. There were many parts that were challenging (mostly politics and whiny students), but it was so rewarding. I love to drink in the atmosphere on campus – any campus. Walking around and seeing students scurrying to their next class or study group makes me want to go and join them, no matter where they are headed, and just be a fly on the wall while learning is taking place. Assigning meaningful homework, responding to struggling students, and enabling those “Aha!” moments, is a mighty powerful thing.
A secretary. Okay, I know this may sound boring to many, but this is one of my very favorite jobs. I just love being as efficient as possible and helping to make everything run smoother. I love ordering the office supplies and carefully placing them in the well-organized cupboards, just keeping the tools that the employees need readily available at all times. I love going above and beyond the front desk duties to find all of those random projects that people are reminded of every time they look in that drawer, closet, or cupboard, but it is a waste of their time to remedy the situation. The list goes on and on. Ooh, I get excited just thinking about it!
An employee at a used bookstore. I would relish going to work each day, entering the store and breathing in the smell of books. I would wander around the store in free moments, randomly selecting a tome off the shelf and leafing through it, reading a page here and there to be able to more fully assist customers in a mood for a specific type of book. Knowing where each volume could be found and leading an anticipating patron to the jewel they have been searching to find for days, months, or years.
Jobs I would love.
There are so many jobs that I would just love to have. Where do I start?
A university professor. I absolutely loved teaching at BYU. There were many parts that were challenging (mostly politics and whiny students), but it was so rewarding. I love to drink in the atmosphere on campus – any campus. Walking around and seeing students scurrying to their next class or study group makes me want to go and join them, no matter where they are headed, and just be a fly on the wall while learning is taking place. Assigning meaningful homework, responding to struggling students, and enabling those “Aha!” moments, is a mighty powerful thing.
A secretary. Okay, I know this may sound boring to many, but this is one of my very favorite jobs. I just love being as efficient as possible and helping to make everything run smoother. I love ordering the office supplies and carefully placing them in the well-organized cupboards, just keeping the tools that the employees need readily available at all times. I love going above and beyond the front desk duties to find all of those random projects that people are reminded of every time they look in that drawer, closet, or cupboard, but it is a waste of their time to remedy the situation. The list goes on and on. Ooh, I get excited just thinking about it!
An employee at a used bookstore. I would relish going to work each day, entering the store and breathing in the smell of books. I would wander around the store in free moments, randomly selecting a tome off the shelf and leafing through it, reading a page here and there to be able to more fully assist customers in a mood for a specific type of book. Knowing where each volume could be found and leading an anticipating patron to the jewel they have been searching to find for days, months, or years.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
And the winner is...
Debby.
Thanks for playing. She didn't get them all, but she was closest. And she's already claimed her prize.
Here are the answers in order:
1) And Both Were Young by Madeleine L'Engle
2) Exodus by Leon Uris
3) To Catch a Spy by Amelia Elizabeth Walden
4) Two-Part Invention by Madeleine L'Engle
5) These Is My Words by Nancy E. Turner
Thanks for playing. She didn't get them all, but she was closest. And she's already claimed her prize.
Here are the answers in order:
1) And Both Were Young by Madeleine L'Engle
2) Exodus by Leon Uris
3) To Catch a Spy by Amelia Elizabeth Walden
4) Two-Part Invention by Madeleine L'Engle
5) These Is My Words by Nancy E. Turner
Friday, September 4, 2009
Okay To Be Me
Another assignment (Week 1 Day 5) for the class through the Travelin’Oma blog.
Okay to be me.
I remember very clearly the first time that I felt that it was okay to be me.
All through junior high and high school there was a girl that I admired and I thought she was perfect. I was sure that if I just looked like her, talked like her, and acted like her, everyone would adore me. I would be a coveted friend as well as the girl of every boy’s dreams – if only I could be her instead of me. There were others that I felt similarly about, but none so much as her. This feeling plagued me for several years until I was a junior in high school. Every time I saw her, I thought about how sad I was that I could never be just like her, no matter how hard I tried. Then one day I saw her walking down the hall and sighed to myself as I contemplated how much I wanted to be her. At that moment, two boys standing next to me commented to each other that they didn’t think she was that cute. Shocked, I blurted out, “You really don’t think she’s cute?” I wasn’t even thinking about how I had been eavesdropping and not really invited to hear this observation in the first place. However, they didn’t seem to mind and replied, “No, she’s not that cute at all!”
I had a revelation at that moment. The “ideal” in my mind was not necessarily the ideal for everyone. In fact, it occurred to me that there is not one single person on this earth that everyone else thinks is beautiful, kind, witty, and generally desirable. Not even movie stars. Not even this girl that I had idolized for years. So, since there is no way to please everyone, why not be happy being who you are? This was so liberating for me and I finally felt okay just being me. I still had things I didn’t necessarily love about myself and many goals of things I wanted to do differently. But it felt good to not be anyone else at that moment and just be myself.
Okay to be me.
I remember very clearly the first time that I felt that it was okay to be me.
All through junior high and high school there was a girl that I admired and I thought she was perfect. I was sure that if I just looked like her, talked like her, and acted like her, everyone would adore me. I would be a coveted friend as well as the girl of every boy’s dreams – if only I could be her instead of me. There were others that I felt similarly about, but none so much as her. This feeling plagued me for several years until I was a junior in high school. Every time I saw her, I thought about how sad I was that I could never be just like her, no matter how hard I tried. Then one day I saw her walking down the hall and sighed to myself as I contemplated how much I wanted to be her. At that moment, two boys standing next to me commented to each other that they didn’t think she was that cute. Shocked, I blurted out, “You really don’t think she’s cute?” I wasn’t even thinking about how I had been eavesdropping and not really invited to hear this observation in the first place. However, they didn’t seem to mind and replied, “No, she’s not that cute at all!”
I had a revelation at that moment. The “ideal” in my mind was not necessarily the ideal for everyone. In fact, it occurred to me that there is not one single person on this earth that everyone else thinks is beautiful, kind, witty, and generally desirable. Not even movie stars. Not even this girl that I had idolized for years. So, since there is no way to please everyone, why not be happy being who you are? This was so liberating for me and I finally felt okay just being me. I still had things I didn’t necessarily love about myself and many goals of things I wanted to do differently. But it felt good to not be anyone else at that moment and just be myself.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Can you guess?
From my Old Friends post, can you guess what my top five books are? Closest guesses will get a prize. Don't know what the prize is yet, but there will be one. Just put your guesses in the comments section of this post.
I'll post the answer tomorrow or the day after.
PS Bonus if you know which book matches with which description.
I'll post the answer tomorrow or the day after.
PS Bonus if you know which book matches with which description.
Loving Yourself
Another assignment (Week 1 Day 4) for the class through the TravelinOma blog.
Loving yourself.
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
– Marianne Williamson*
The assignments for today caused me some minor discomfort. The two assignments I did were 1) to list 25 of your unique abilities and qualities, and 2) to list 10 things you love about your body. I found that I could comfortably and quickly come up with seven items for the first list and five for the second, and then I struggled. Why is it that we have such a hard time seeing ourselves as others do and as God does? This is a new goal for me. I have tried hard to see others in that way, but have not done as good of a job trying to see myself that way. Writing them down and stretching to complete the lists has helped and I hope to refer to these lists more often when I struggle to see as much value in myself.
*This quote has often been attributed to Nelson Mandela, but it is my understanding that it is actually by Marianne Williamson in her book A Return to Love
Loving yourself.
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
– Marianne Williamson*
The assignments for today caused me some minor discomfort. The two assignments I did were 1) to list 25 of your unique abilities and qualities, and 2) to list 10 things you love about your body. I found that I could comfortably and quickly come up with seven items for the first list and five for the second, and then I struggled. Why is it that we have such a hard time seeing ourselves as others do and as God does? This is a new goal for me. I have tried hard to see others in that way, but have not done as good of a job trying to see myself that way. Writing them down and stretching to complete the lists has helped and I hope to refer to these lists more often when I struggle to see as much value in myself.
*This quote has often been attributed to Nelson Mandela, but it is my understanding that it is actually by Marianne Williamson in her book A Return to Love
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Old Friends
Another assignment (Week 1 Day 3) for the class through the TravelinOma blog.
Old friends.
Glancing around the room I see many of my old friends. As I look at each one I am reminded of fond memories I share with them. I reflect on each for a small moment before turning to the next.
Lightness and sweetness and always lifting my spirits.
Adventurous, strong, and complex.
Exciting and mysterious, no matter how long we have known each other.
Deep. Thoughtful. Wise. Teaching me so many new things each time we meet.
Warm and reassuring, even during the hard times.
When I need comfort, I often turn to my favorite books. Each one is cherished for a different reason. Each has a special place in my heart.
Old friends.
Glancing around the room I see many of my old friends. As I look at each one I am reminded of fond memories I share with them. I reflect on each for a small moment before turning to the next.
Lightness and sweetness and always lifting my spirits.
Adventurous, strong, and complex.
Exciting and mysterious, no matter how long we have known each other.
Deep. Thoughtful. Wise. Teaching me so many new things each time we meet.
Warm and reassuring, even during the hard times.
When I need comfort, I often turn to my favorite books. Each one is cherished for a different reason. Each has a special place in my heart.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
How Travel Has Changed Me
I am taking a wonderful online class through the TravelinOma blog. Every day we have an assignment and here is mine for Week 1, Day 2. I am scared to ask for suggestions, but maybe let me know if one of my paragraphs or sentences is unclear or if I could structure it differently to make my points more effectively. I am trying to grow. I would also love positive comments (wouldn’t we all?) to encourage me in this endeavor if you find anything you particularly like.
How travel has changed me.
I believe that who you are is made up of all of the experiences you have had and your reactions to those experiences. Thus, who I am is at least partially a result of all the travelling I have done. But I think that the traveling experiences I have had make up a disproportionate part of me because of the great and lasting impact they have had. When I try to sort all of the memories, discoveries, and reflections of my travel, and how they have changed me, they fell naturally into four categories: confidence, relating to others, compassion, and adding context to my life.
I have not always been terrifically self-confident, but travelling has done amazing things to build my confidence. When I was 13 years old I travelled to Mexico with a group from school and toured around the Yucatan Peninsula for a week visiting ancient Mayan ruins and paying homage to other culturally important sites. At the end of the week we were in Cancun and we were given freedom to spend the last two or three days however we liked. My natural tendency was to do the “safe” thing and stay on the beach and read all day, but I felt empowered by the previous week and reached far out of my comfort zone to do things I never thought I could do at the age of 13. I, knowing very little Spanish, communicated with a non-English speaking local to figure out the public transportation system and rode the bus with some fellow students to a small, off the tourist path, village market some distance away and spent the morning bartering in broken Spanish to acquire some souvenirs to bring home with me. (As a side note, I still have a beautiful onyx chess set that I bought that day.) The rest of the free days were spent in similarly uncharacteristic activities for me and it felt glorious. I felt as though I had a secret when I came home – the secret was that I was capable of more than I had dreamed and capable of more than others expected of me. This confidence, and the confidence gained in my years of travelling since, has affected not only those subsequent travels, but also the rest of my life as I have learned that I am capable of more than I thought in many other arenas besides travel.
One goal that I continually strive toward achieving is to gain enough knowledge about enough different things that I can comfortably converse with anyone I come into contact with about things that are important to them. Even if I only know enough to ask questions about a topic to open them up, that is helpful. Travelling has exposed me to many kinds of people, political ideas, historical references, and the list could go on and on. This allows me to have a basis with which to make connections with others. A few weeks ago I was visiting with a recently widowed woman who lives in my neighborhood and I noticed that she was wearing a shirt that had Hebrew writing on it. I asked her about it and mentioned that I had been to Israel on a study abroad several years ago and she opened up and told me all about how her husband had taken her there a few years ago since it had always been a dream of hers to visit the Holy Land. I was so glad that I had enough experiences through that study abroad to talk with her about a memory so valuable to her and for her to know how important it was to me as well. It can be very rewarding to see how meaningful it is to others to have someone relate to them and have common ground on which to begin building a relationship.
Meeting people of different cultures and ideas, no matter where I am in the world, increases my compassion, love, and understanding of the other children of God on this earth. When I started to see that most people live quietly, doing the best they can with what they have, my love for those around me increased and I was more willing to give them the benefit of the doubt if I was tempted to judge. When I watch the news (which admittedly is pretty seldom), I see faces of people and not just a news story. I have seen those who have suffered on both sides of a conflict and it makes the solution not so black and white. I pray for those whose story hasn’t been told and who are suffering and trying to survive. I hope that in the years to come I will continue to feel a greater compassion for all those with whom I come in contact and that I will always remain grateful for the lessons that they teach me.
As an educator, I feel that we all learn best when we are able to make connections between the new things that we are learning and the knowledge and understanding that we have already gained. The more knowledge and understanding that we have, the easier it is to make connections to what we are trying to learn and the easier it is to retain the new knowledge we are gaining. This is giving a context to the new things we learn. Travel has helped me develop a much more extensive context with which to understand the new experiences that I have every day. To be able to connect my new experiences with the things I have learned through my travels, I am able to remember and retain more of the things I have a chance to glean from life on a daily basis.
Travelling is one of my favorite things to do. However, this is largely the case because of how it changes my life in small and meaningful ways and not because of the big glamorous buildings I see or the fabulous beaches I swim on. I hope it may continue to shape who I am in the years to come.
How travel has changed me.
I believe that who you are is made up of all of the experiences you have had and your reactions to those experiences. Thus, who I am is at least partially a result of all the travelling I have done. But I think that the traveling experiences I have had make up a disproportionate part of me because of the great and lasting impact they have had. When I try to sort all of the memories, discoveries, and reflections of my travel, and how they have changed me, they fell naturally into four categories: confidence, relating to others, compassion, and adding context to my life.
I have not always been terrifically self-confident, but travelling has done amazing things to build my confidence. When I was 13 years old I travelled to Mexico with a group from school and toured around the Yucatan Peninsula for a week visiting ancient Mayan ruins and paying homage to other culturally important sites. At the end of the week we were in Cancun and we were given freedom to spend the last two or three days however we liked. My natural tendency was to do the “safe” thing and stay on the beach and read all day, but I felt empowered by the previous week and reached far out of my comfort zone to do things I never thought I could do at the age of 13. I, knowing very little Spanish, communicated with a non-English speaking local to figure out the public transportation system and rode the bus with some fellow students to a small, off the tourist path, village market some distance away and spent the morning bartering in broken Spanish to acquire some souvenirs to bring home with me. (As a side note, I still have a beautiful onyx chess set that I bought that day.) The rest of the free days were spent in similarly uncharacteristic activities for me and it felt glorious. I felt as though I had a secret when I came home – the secret was that I was capable of more than I had dreamed and capable of more than others expected of me. This confidence, and the confidence gained in my years of travelling since, has affected not only those subsequent travels, but also the rest of my life as I have learned that I am capable of more than I thought in many other arenas besides travel.
One goal that I continually strive toward achieving is to gain enough knowledge about enough different things that I can comfortably converse with anyone I come into contact with about things that are important to them. Even if I only know enough to ask questions about a topic to open them up, that is helpful. Travelling has exposed me to many kinds of people, political ideas, historical references, and the list could go on and on. This allows me to have a basis with which to make connections with others. A few weeks ago I was visiting with a recently widowed woman who lives in my neighborhood and I noticed that she was wearing a shirt that had Hebrew writing on it. I asked her about it and mentioned that I had been to Israel on a study abroad several years ago and she opened up and told me all about how her husband had taken her there a few years ago since it had always been a dream of hers to visit the Holy Land. I was so glad that I had enough experiences through that study abroad to talk with her about a memory so valuable to her and for her to know how important it was to me as well. It can be very rewarding to see how meaningful it is to others to have someone relate to them and have common ground on which to begin building a relationship.
Meeting people of different cultures and ideas, no matter where I am in the world, increases my compassion, love, and understanding of the other children of God on this earth. When I started to see that most people live quietly, doing the best they can with what they have, my love for those around me increased and I was more willing to give them the benefit of the doubt if I was tempted to judge. When I watch the news (which admittedly is pretty seldom), I see faces of people and not just a news story. I have seen those who have suffered on both sides of a conflict and it makes the solution not so black and white. I pray for those whose story hasn’t been told and who are suffering and trying to survive. I hope that in the years to come I will continue to feel a greater compassion for all those with whom I come in contact and that I will always remain grateful for the lessons that they teach me.
As an educator, I feel that we all learn best when we are able to make connections between the new things that we are learning and the knowledge and understanding that we have already gained. The more knowledge and understanding that we have, the easier it is to make connections to what we are trying to learn and the easier it is to retain the new knowledge we are gaining. This is giving a context to the new things we learn. Travel has helped me develop a much more extensive context with which to understand the new experiences that I have every day. To be able to connect my new experiences with the things I have learned through my travels, I am able to remember and retain more of the things I have a chance to glean from life on a daily basis.
Travelling is one of my favorite things to do. However, this is largely the case because of how it changes my life in small and meaningful ways and not because of the big glamorous buildings I see or the fabulous beaches I swim on. I hope it may continue to shape who I am in the years to come.
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