Thoughts Whilst Running...

I've been living in the miserable no man's land of regret these past days. It has not been pretty... so today I went for an extra long run to clear my head. As I was jogging/walking on a long, flat road many a thought popped into my head. Thought I would share a few...

First, on this long flat road were many walkers and runners, and some old fella's that were more putters than anything else. As I passed some of my fellow exerciser's I realized that the road represented the time-line of my life. And my companion travelers were sorta like the mistakes I have made along the path of life. Some were far behind me, some were like the persnickety speed walker that I would pass, then she would catch up, then I would pass her again. I finally gave up my recovery walking to get her behind me once and for all.

Some of the people were far ahead of me, which represented future mistakes. I couldn't make them out quite yet, but realized, life is full of mistakes and I would need to eventually pass them as well.

Some are in the past, some are sticking with me a little longer than I would like ( speed walker lady with your matching velor suit and perfectly coiffed ponytail that swung back and forth just so ) . And unavoidably, some are ahead of me.

While each mistake/trial/runner is a different shape and size, I need to pass them and leave them behind me. Running back to repeatedly circle around the people/mistakes I have already passed, will not get me to where I need to be. Sometimes, I need to press forward as hard and as fast as I can to get the opposition ( i.e. annoying competition ) behind me. I also need to keep my head up and face the upcoming mistakes, head on.

I need to truly embrace The Atonement and move forward in my life. Stop looking back and keep on running forward, no matter how many other mistakes I have left in my past, or may face in the future.

The second thought came to me as I trudged up the hill going around The Provo Temple. At the bottom of the hill, I saw many missionaries running down the hill as fast as they could. Other people were doing the same with a look of victory on their red and sweaty faces. I kept on trudging up and up.

You know, many times we pass people as they are running down the hill. They look so pleased with themselves and seem to be running at their peak. We do not see the struggle it took for them to get to the top of the hill. I forget most people had to march up one side of the hill, possibly going rather slow as I do, in order to be in the position to run alllll the way down the other side of the hill at top speed. I usually see people running down the hill and compare myself while I am working my way up the hill and wonder why I can't seem to compete.

We all have uphill battles and most likely wish life was all downhill, in a weird sort of way. The thrill can only come if I pay the price it takes to get to the top of the hill. I too get to the top of that old hill, pause and take a deep breath, then run my legs off while getting my best speed of the day. It is exhilarating to have such an excellent time for a good mile or so. It is the only part of my run where I truly feel fast and well trained.

So, I'm not going to look back ( as much as I usually do ) and I am going to enjoy the work it takes to get to the top of the hill, so it can all go down hill from there.

Be Grateful!

I LUV SUMMER!!

We are having quite the time here in wonderful family-laden Utah. The three younger kids and I have been busy visiting with family, going to sports camps, playing in the water, swimming, family parties, etc,etc,etc...

Here is my cousin Judy with my wonderful Grandma

My persistent little B working on her newly invented pillow- stuffing a bunch of batting into a pillow case and then sewing it shut. Only a Grandma would let her get away with that.

Here is the last day of football camp. This is one of the coaches telling the boys to say thank you to whoever paid for them to go to the camp-- I agree!

And here is Brandon a few hours after his last day of football camp-- they kept those boys busy (thank you-- mom's need someone to wear our boys out)

These are a few of my favorite things...

Mikenzie and her favorite pet, Rex

Kyle and James sharing a manly, bonding moment

Alex and his scholar bowl team-- he was team captain

The man, doing his favorite thing, playing with a ball, of any kind

Love this pic of Jeremy with his Rugby team-- talk about a happy camper!

Bitter-sweet happy things, Baylie graduating from 5th grade

Mikenzie's feet, I have a lot of this particular shot, don't know why, but it makes me smile

James and Baylie working on the garden together-- luv it

Coolio at his best-- love the cleats!

Weekend Warriors

Saturday was filled with all sorts of happenings at our home this weekend. I was preparing my RS lesson when I heard Brandon outside crying " Ow... ow... ow! " That didn't sound right. I opened the door to see him running home, holding his left arm saying " I'll never do that again". Being a curious mom, I asked him what had happened. Trying to emulate his hero, Jimmer, Brandon and his friend thought it would be a great idea to use a ladder to dunk a basketball. Brandon quickly found out, he was in fact NOT Jimmer, fell to the ground and broke his arm.

So, on the way to Kyle's second soccer game, we stopped by the office for an x-ray to confirm the break-- yep, it was broken. James casted Brandon with a beautiful BYU Blue cast.

If you notice, Baylie still wears a brace from her broken arm... from last month. We've had a string of broken bones, stayed tuned for even more fun.

Here we have Brandon at 2:00 p.m. on Saturday...

And... Brandon at 5:00 p.m. on Saturday, shooting a one armed basketball game across the street, where he broke his arm a few hours earlier. Good luck getting him to sit still for any amount of time. What a kid!

I love the look on Kyle's face in this picture-- his game face

Back to the broken bones. Sunday was the last game of the soccer tourney (I'm a soccer mom, I use lingo like tourney to prove it ). Kyle decided to play. We have taught about keeping the Sabbath Day holy and previously have not let him play on Sundays. He is 14 though, old enough to know right from wrong. We decided to let him choose for himself. James and I support him, regardless of how we feel.

James and Kyle left early Sunday morning for the game. Towards the end of the game, while I was at home trying to piece my RS lesson together ( frantically, for the second time), I received this text: Kyle just carried off of the field, ankle injury. That's right, his team lost and he injured his right ankle to the point he was carried off of the field by his coaches. When he was being taken off of the field his coach asked, " What is it with your family and breaking things?" I have the same question.
When they got home, James and Jeremy had to carry him into the house.

Back to the office after church. Luckily no breaks, he has a possible torn ligament. He is in a "boot" for now. We are waiting for the swelling to go down and to see how he recovers over the next few days before we proceed with an MRI. He is already kicking a soccer ball though... our hopes are high there will be no long term damage. Baylie of course had the brightest out look-- " Hey Kyle, when you wear your boot to school, I'll bet one of your favorite girls will carry your books for you ". To which Kyle promptly replied " I don't need some girl to carry my books! "

So, that was my memorable Mother's Day weekend.

Be Grateful!!

Suffering

Kansas City, MO Temple

Ever have an Ah-ha moment so profound that you realize the teaching came from The Spirit? You are taught instantly by a loving Heavenly Father without words or lessons, but by simple whisperings? Sometimes it is taught in layers, with different experiences adding up to one wonderful and gratitude filled interlude with God?

My wonderful and unique lesson came to me tonight after multiple layers of being taught through the Spirit. It all began a few weeks back as I was "running" while waiting for Kyle to finish soccer practice. I love using my time to accomplish two things at once. I was running up a hill and as it came to a crest, I looked up and saw our beautiful Kansas City Temple, being built just a few miles away from where Joseph Smith was jailed in Liberty, MO. I wondered how Emma would have felt if she knew one day, a temple would be built almost a stone's throw away from where her beloved husband sat in prison. I also wondered if maybe she did know, if she knew more than any of us realize. Her conviction and faith were just as firm as her husbands, her trials just as deep.

I have often reflected on that evening run and the thoughts that came to me as I looked at the temple in the horizon as the sun was setting. Fast forward to a few weeks later, after I was able to enjoy a wonderful week in UT, highlighted by Women's Conference, a few visits to the temples in Utah county, long overdue visits with friends and family. It was spiritually renewing and I have been so grateful for the opportunity to attend.

However, I fall so quickly back into the routine drudgery of my mundane life. Filled with loads of laundry, errands to run and children to attend to. All of that spiritual renewal seemed to have run out rather quickly. I had even lost my resolve to live with more charity and humility.

As I was folding yet another load of laundry tonight after my children had all gone to bed, I began to wallow once again in self-pity for the unexpected turns and set backs that seem to come so frequently into my life. My life just isn't what I dreamed it would be. It is overwhelming to me some days. We had this discussion last night, of all the long days and nights of being a loving, supportive wife to a struggling medical student. So many times, as the loneliness of not just being so far away from family, but from my husband being gone 16-18 hours a day, day after day. I would shore myself up by remembering I was enduring short term pain for long term rewards.

Well, life has a way of NOT turning out the way you plan it. I have been a long time whiner of such a truth, and am easily lulled into a private pity party on a frequent basis these days. Tonight though, a thought came to me. A question rather... Heavenly Father, haven't I struggled enough? The answer came quickly, quietly. No, you haven't. My mind was returned to my previous thoughts of Emma. Could I really stand face to face with her and tell her how hard my life was? Could I tell her it was difficult because I didn't drive a new car and my furniture was tattered and old? Could I look at those early Saints who had set back after set back and tell them how difficult it was for me? As I sit in an air conditioned home, full of modern appliances, with no fear of retribution or violence, here in Clay County Missouri, with a temple being built just a few minutes away? Could I explain to them the disappointment I have faced, when they literally fled in fear of their very lives being taken? Leaving their homes, time and time again?
Can I look to the women who lost children born with the same challenges as my children have been and tell them how difficult it was for me -- living in modern times where a few quick surgeries give them a full and meaningful life?

Haven't I suffered enough?

No, I haven't.

Such a gentle reminder and kind lesson taught to me tonight by a kind and loving Heavenly Father.

Be Grateful!

Some days...

Some days....

Some days I think back to when my kiddos were so much younger than they are now. I think back to the time when I had three rambunctious little boys that were full of energy, curiosity and life. Back to the days of living in Iowa when our home was on the third floor of an apartment complex where all of the other med. students lived. We had a tiny three bedroom apartment. The boys shared one bedroom, none of them would sleep without his brothers. It was small and crowded, but it was home to us.

Where did those little boys go and how did they all grow up so quickly?

My sweet Alex who loved trains, you could almost see the wheels spinning in his head every time he asked a question full of insight and wonder. My little boy who tried to lay down while eating an ice cream cone, with a result of having a big scoop of ice cream on his face. I remember laughing and asking him "Alex, what are you doing?" His response, possibly a foreshadowing of his grumpy teenage self, "I'm laying here with a bunch of cold ice cream all over my face, what does it look like I am doing?"

I remember the days of him coming home from preschool, ready for his lunch: a toasted cheese sandwich and cup of juice. I think that is what he had for lunch every day for at least a year. That was his comfort zone... a place he tries so desperately to find nowadays. He was so young then, something I did not appreciate at the time, too busy caring for other children who also needed my attention.

Good old Jerma-- my mellow fellow. Always so laid back and happy, easy - going and pleasant. One night he stayed awake a little longer than the other two boys and filled our night with laughter. He told us all sorts of tales. He told us he could fly " All I have to do is get in an airplane, and I can fly " He explained to me how he did not like pajamas, they made him sleepy. He asked how Alex was able to wake the sun up every morning.

He was the boy who heard Grandma was sending us a package and wanted to go ride his bike in the parking lot until it arrived. I call him the buffer, sent here between Alex and Kyle by Heavenly Father so all three boys would make it through this life alive and healthy.

Kyle, my feisty, independent little boy who always preferred his dad over me. My wise, wonderful and very young husband once explained to me the reason Kyle preferred him over me. It all came down to me not being able to breast feed Kyle. Just the boost of confidence a mother needs. Kyle threw a full blown tantrum every morning James left for school or to study... that would be 6 mornings a week if I remember correctly. One Sunday, James was asked to give the closing prayer in Sacrament Meeting. I had to haul a red-faced screaming Kyle out of the meeting before the prayer even began, due to his separation anxiety. He loved his daddy.

He always had to keep up with the big boys. One day after a long afternoon of playing in the sand pile, Kyle insisted on walking up all three flights of stairs by himself, plastic sword in hand. He made it all the way up, asked for a drink of water and sat on the couch. By time I had a cup of water for him, he was sound asleep, holding onto his coveted sword, his sandy shoes still on. But, he made it up every one of those steps by himself.

I look at these young men and wonder where all of the time went? My grandma used to tell me to enjoy my children while I could, they would be grown and gone before I knew it. I used to wonder how I would make it through one more afternoon. I could not imagine them as teenagers, or even out of my sight for more than a few moments. I used to plead with them to all lay down and take a nap, at the same time, just for a few minutes, so I could get a few moments of rest in myself. What I wouldn't give for just one of those long, tiring days now. I would read just one more book, go to one more play group, spend a little more time at the play ground. I would enjoy bath time, times three, cuddle with them a little longer when they were all warm in their cozy pajamas. Bedtime would not be a hussled hassle, but a cherished time of peace and comfort.

My boys are grown now. They are hairy, loud, smelly... sulky, moody, faced with challenges that I could not have imagined. They get teeth knocked out, knees blown out, they are told no by silly teenage girls who want to stay home from prom for some inexplicable reason. I mean really, who could say no to one of my handsome sons?

They go to seminary at 5:45 every morning, play football, rugby, track, soccer, wrestle, win at scholar bowl and science bowl, play piano, trumpet, saxophone and guitar. Their little sisters adore them and their littlest brother wishes he could be one of them. They are either driving, waiting to drive or can't wait to drive one day soon. They hold the priesthood, bless the sacrament, are Eagle Scouts ( or soon will be ), are scared to go on missions, want to move out as soon as they can, but want to stay home just a little longer.

They were my little boys, they are my young men and will always be my greatest blessings.

Be Grateful!

Soccer, Our Temple and an Analogy

If I was super spiffy, I would be able to organize all of these photos to go along with my title smoothly, but I am not spiffy-- so I will have to type my random thoughts, randomly.

So here is Kyle, or Coolio as I often call him playing in one of many soccer games. Currently, life is all about soccer, track and rugby. We do throw an occasional piano lesson and Scholar Bowl in here and there just for some diversification-- but soccer owns us right now.

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One great blessing we have every time we head on over to the soccer fields is this marvelous view-- it is always a thrill to see " our " temple high on a hill top
( sadly, no mountains here in Missouri ). Isn't it glorious?

Next is my random thought/analogy of the day. I looked out my window the other day and noticed the huge difference in the two trees pictured here. And ya know... somedays I truly feel like the tree on the right. Everyone else seems to have big beautiful blossoms, straight limbs and beauty abounding. Then there is poor, pitiful me. No blossoms, a broken branch and just a few reddish-brown, plain leaves here and there, no bloomin' beauty to be found.

Now, I realize we are all beautiful in our own unique ways-- but there are days where I feel I just can't compare. Oh well..

Here we have The Man... doing his best to live in Coolio's shadow. I can't tell you how many times he/we/I have heard " Are you as good as your brother?" The answer varies, depending on Brandon's confidence level. It usually includes, " No one is as fast as Kyle". 'Aint that the truth!

Dream come true: Starting Goalie!!

Kyle's team's pre-game inspection-- they sure have grown in four years!

This is always fun-- watching the big Milan players warming up with the little guys. Love it every time!!