A REALLY Good Book

I just have to write this review really quickly before I return the book to the library and forget the important details, like title and author and such. :)

"The Brain that Changes Itself"

by Norman Doidge

VERY GOOD BOOK!!

I happen to love good fiction, but when its done right, non-fiction is even more satisfying for me.  I suppose its because I feel like I'm learning something.  And also because I find it hard to find really good fiction. But I digress...

This book is about the plasticity of the brain, investigating it from infancy (and briefly, even prenatally) to old age, and covering topics such as psychoanalysis or "talking therapy," phantom limbs, the effect of mental practice, love and attraction, and disability, whether from birth or other trauma such as a stroke or illness.  I found it absolutely fascinating, and every time I read a section I had to tell Nate all about it to share the information but also because I wanted to process and really remember it, and talking it through/explaining it is one of the best ways I do that.  Of course, I couldn't gobble it up in one go - Eden does a great job of keeping my feet firmly planted on the ground - but that turned out to be a good thing because then I was able to digest it more thoroughly, a chapter or so at a time.  

The writing is engaging and well-done, easy to understand and even apply to daily life despite its often deep roots in philosophy, science, and many years of research across interdisciplinary fields.  

I loved it!  It especially made me think of you two, Bridget and Rosemary, but I think anyone could read it and find both enjoyment and edification!

And now I have to run take care of my kidlet!

Mission; Mothering

I've been home from my mission for four years and four months.  It was truly a very wonderful, very difficult, absolutely challenging and fulfilling, fully worth every moment, year and a half spent loving and learning and growing and serving.  If someone asked me, "Should I go?" my answer would be, "Absolutely!"  But get as ready as you can first.  Be worthy.  Have a testimony.  And determine to do everything you can to serve however you can, to lift rather than to weigh down.  It was a wonderful time - but more challenging than you could ever imagine.  :)

I've heard it said that those mission years were the best two years of one's life.  I've rarely heard it said that they were the hardest two years, maybe partly because that is not a very positive view of such an important period of service, and who wants to admit that anyway?  I will say it though!  They were the hardest of my life up til that point!  However!  Life goes on, and I feel glad and blessed to say that now, while I count my mission as a very special time, it is neither the best nor the hardest years of my life.  I do feel, however, that the experiences and learning that happened during that time have been the best training I could have ever received for the rest of life.

(Some may wonder about my focus on what the mission did for me, seeing that the mission is supposed to be about what we can do for other folks.  I must admit, while others can claim baptisms and miracles, cite numbers of lessons and Book of Mormon placements, my mission was, in those terms, not so successful.  The truth is, I don't really know all that my mission did for others.  I hope it was a blessing to them.  I was able to participate in some baptisms (which, every time, were marvelous, blessed events!) and I know that I was able to do the work the Lord had for me, but I didn't get to see a whole lot of the fruit.  So, while I can't really say what my service did for others, I do know what the Lord did for me through those experiences.)  That being said...

Yesterday was a hard day with my little charge!  We had an epic struggle, and although it all eventually ended well, it spanned nearly an hour and a half, had me in tears at several points, and truly brought me to the end of my wits.  Without going into details, I will simply say in retrospect that it involved, in small degree, obedience and cleaning up, with a large measure of age-typical non-compliance, an already not-so-good day for me, and ... I can't even remember what else now!  It got blown way out of proportion and turned into a real perfect storm of a power struggle.  It was HORRIBLE!

I talked with her dad, and called my mom for suggestions later and, after Eden was asleep, did some reading and pondering.  I was comforted, :) and enlightened, and encouraged enough to keep going.  But more than anything, I was reminded of my mission, the true, eternal, overwhelmingly important mission of motherhood  (or parenthood, I guess you could say.)  It helps everything to have to proper perspective.  I'm not little H.'s mom, but I am acting in loco parentis for a good portion of her life right now, and of course, I have my own daughter and new little one coming.  It helps me to remember what I am actually doing here.

I'm not trying to only shape behavior.  I'm not being the boss just because I'm bigger and its easier if I run things.  I'm not (primarily!) making them do things to make my life easier!  What I'm really trying to do is exactly the same thing I was doing in Spain, and that is, the Lord's work.  Bring souls to Him.  Invite them to come unto Christ.  Every little thing I do influences these little ones' perception of Heavenly Father and His love for them, and who and what our Savior is.  Every teaching, implicit or explicit, registers in their little hearts and minds and leaves the mark of love and truth or the opposite.  (Good thing they're so forgiving and resilient, and we can try again tomorrow!)  I just as much, if not more, need His inspiration and guidance to mother these little ones as I ever did to teach the gospel as a missionary.  I just as much, if not more, need to draw upon His words, His revelation, the power of prayer, the guidance of the Spirit.  I just as much need to examine myself, repent, and be worthy.  Of course, mothering looks a whole lot different and has a different timeline, but I know of no better preparation that I could have had for this crucial and eternal calling in which I am now privileged to serve.

(And just to be clear, I find this calling to be way harder and way better than the other one - but then the other set the stage for this, so I'm not saying its an either/or thing!)


And if you're still reading, past all the parentheses, probably-run-on sentences, and highly condensed, somewhat cryptic thoughts, I give you a gold star! :) And I have a really really good book to review sometime when my little Eden is not pulling at my knee and loudly demanding my attention.

God Wants to Hear You Sing

This song was a timely reminder for me, here.

I thought maybe some of you could use it too...

Here are the words.

Their chains were fastened tight
Down at the jail that night
Still Paul and Silas would not be dismayed
They said, "It's time to lift our voice, 
Sing praises to the Lord
Let's prove that we will trust Him, come what may."

God wants to hear you sing
When the waves are crashing round you
When the fiery darts surround you
When despair is all you see
God wants to hear your voice
When the wisest man has spoken
And says your circumstance is as hopeless as can be
That's when God wants to hear you sing

He loves to hear our praise 
On our cheerful days
When the pleasant times out weigh the bad, by far
But when suffering comes along
And we still sing Him song
That is when we bless the Father's heart

God wants to hear you sing
When the waves are crashing round you
When the fiery darts surround you
When despair is all you see
God wants to hear your voice
When the wisest man has spoken
And says you circumstance is as hopeless as can be
That's when God wants to hear you sing.

Why is this so easy to forget?

And so hard to do?

Balancing our very real human grief, sorrow, pain, and discouragement with the faith that allows us to "sing" in the midst of it all.  I don't believe that it does any good to deny those experiences and just pretend its all ok - that is not what God requires of us.  Jesus Christ, our very Savior, wept, groaned within himself, even asked that "if it were possible" the cup could pass from him.  Surely we too may do those things in the depths of our struggles.  But to be able to not give in to the temptation to let our sad times then become our sour times... that, for me, is one of the real tests.  And maybe that's what people mean when they say we were sent here to be tested - not that our hard times are our tests, but that what we choose to do with them shows what we have become, are becoming, just as a scholastic test is supposed to demonstrate what we have learned and what we still lack.  

Anyway, sometimes the only song we can manage is the faint melody of duty done for duty's sake.  Even that is precious to our Heavenly Father, I believe.  I appreciated this song, though, because it reminded me to allow that stage to pass and to let the full song come forth in my life as my strength does increase.  To not wallow in misery but to push through it and come out on higher ground.  

I'm thankful for tender mercies like this one.

A Breather

Sometimes you have to stop thinking about life and just live it.  Just stop asking, "Am I happy today?  Is today a good day?" and do whatever you have to do that day.  At least I do.  Its been a busy, productive couple of weeks, and the breather from blogging has helped.  Much as I love introspection, its good for me to put it away for a little while.  Sorry, still no pictures yet...

One of the brightest parts of these last few weeks has been feeling our new little one move with so much more strength and vigor.  We're a little over twenty weeks! I always wish that somehow I could communicate the sensation more effectively to Nate.  When I try to find the perfect description, it always eludes me and I'm left groping for words.  I've heard the "popcorn popping" and "butterflies" descriptions, and sometimes that does capture the early sensations.  The kicks and punches, blips and pops, are the easiest to imagine, Nate says, and the easiest to describe.  But what about those rolls and squirms and Tectonic-like shifts?  Sometimes the closest I can come is to say it feels like squeezing a bar of wet soap, the sudden, slippery turns where new contours push out and then slide back in just as quickly.  Or like the baby is somehow bunching its whole self up in a corner and then trying to turn around and head out again.  Except as far as I know, there are no corners in the uterus.  Oh, well.  Feeling new life move within me remains one of the most amazing and magical experiences of my life.

Eden is growing so fast.  She climbs and opens, worms her little fingers into things she's not supposed to, and uses the potty for all her little (and big!) poops.  I love it!  We've been doing "elimination communication," or EC, since she was 2 weeks old, and I have to say that, based on our experience, it really works.  At first I was a little (ok, a lot) reluctant to be open about it, because no one understood - mostly we were met with mild defensiveness, "Well, we're going to just let our baby be a baby!..." or downright shock, disbelief, and pooh-poohing, "Well, really you're just training the parents, the baby has no idea..."  The least judgmental, for the most part, were people who had no children.  But one things was true from the start - just like wearing cloth diapers or co-sleeping, doing EC was just something we chose to do for our family.  It didn't mean that we thought those who didn't were unenlightened, or bad parents, or that their kids were less smart than our daughter!  Parenting is such an easy thing to feel offended or defensive over, so I understood that, but, come on!!!  As for the "just training the adult" argument, yes, it was training us adults.  It trained me, especially, to pay closer attention to what my baby was experiencing, communicating, and capable of.  I've read pediatric "medical" writings that claim that children just can't control or have awareness of their bladder and bowel functions until they reach a certain age (usually claimed to be around 2 years old).  I have to say, based on my own experience, that is just not true.  Eden eliminated in the potty from the time she was two weeks old.  And she let me know when she needed to go! And she held it, for a limited time, until I could take her. The "cues" were often subtle and/or I couldn't really explain how I knew, but it was similar to the way I could often say, with a squirm or a grunt, "She's hungry," or "That's a burp coming."  Of course, on the flip side, there were plenty of times when I didn't know, and didn't catch anything.  The point of EC is not to potty train your child early, though that is sometimes a result.  The point is to be in communication with your little one and help them with their needs as best you can.  So we are not potty-trained, and there is no pressure for her to get it in the potty, but I am glad to not (for the most part!) change poopy diapers!

One last random thing - its a common cliche to say that one person makes a difference, but it is so true.  In some of my recent difficult moments, two individuals in particular have touched my life and uplifted me, and truly made a night and day difference for me. One was a dear friend I have known for some time - someone on whom I could pour out my woes, via text, and who took the time to listen and respond and help me out of my breakdown.  The other was someone I barely know at all, a neighbor with a little daughter, who dropped by unannounced one afternoon just to visit for a bit.  Nothing earth-shattering happened, but that contact was exactly what I needed to lift the fog and feel some relief.  So if you're a visiting teacher, or friend, or neighbor - make the time to just reach out! You don't know what a difference you might make.

Sabbath Eve Thoughts

My little bundle of energy is finally asleep.  

Whew! 

Finally!

This business of moving from two to one naps is wearing both of us out, but one of us is not willing to admit it at all. ;)  But when she goes down for the night, she is out!  And I have some time to, well, usually clean.  Or collapse early into bed myself.  Or wait up for my dear husband.  Or surf the web looking at fabric and patterns and reading other random blogs and homeschooling information. :) 

(And, by the way, I must apologize for the dearth of pictures lately!  Nate did show me how to get them from my phone to the blog but... I kind of forgot.  And haven't taken the time to figure it out again.  But I will soon! And you will be refreshed in the visual department, and delighted, as I am daily, with our beautiful, growing girl, and maybe even a shot of the growing baby belly too!)

Anyway, tonight, as I was laying there in the dark bedroom, putting Eden to sleep, feeling her little hands twining through my hair, I was pondering.  My phone was playing a recording of "Fishers of Men," and the beautiful music and testimonies both soothed my spirit and ignited my own chain of pondering.  The voices of the prophets diminished in my hearing, and I began considering the various parts of my life, questions I wanted to ask Nate about the Priesthood (as a side note, it is fascinating to me to learn from a priesthood holder all sorts of details about the priesthood and priesthood service that I never learned!) and opportunities to serve in various capacities that have been given to me.   

I have to admit, probably to my shame, that when I'm given a new calling, my first thought is not always joyful and excited.  In fact, oftentimes the first thought that comes into my head is, "Really?!  Why me?!"  Why me, sometimes in that I've-already-got-a-lot-on-my-plate, are-you-sure-you-want-me type way, but more often why me in the sense that I know very well my own limitations, struggles, and lack of experience and I know that there are other people who are much more qualified and better able to do this job!  

So I wonder, "Why me?"

But I say yes, because I'm not going to say no to the Lord, no matter how much I want to. (Please tell me I'm not the only one who has struggled with this!)

Well, tonight I realized that my YES is all He wants.

He doesn't need my skills.

He doesn't need my time.

He doesn't need my particular talents.

I'm not so special that He only wants me to fill this calling 'cause nobody else could do it, or do it better.

In fact, to mortal eyes, my own included, my serving in this calling might have no important effect.

He is able to do His own work.

He doesn't need me to do it.

What He needs, for His work and His glory, (that is, my immortality and eternal life) is my yes.  What He needs for His work and His glory (that is, the immortality and eternal life of all His children) is that some of us say yes.  He will work through us.  But we must say yes.

Of course, saying yes includes giving my skills, my time, my talents, everything I can and need to, to the particular ministry with which I am entrusted at the time, but beyond that, it lies in His hands.  The outcome, outside of me, is up to Him.  The outcome, inside of me, is up to me.  If I say yes to Him, regardless of what He asks and does with my offering, His work will be done in my heart and my life, 

and isn't that what I want?

I said yes when I was baptized.  And I meant it, with all my eight-year-old heart.

I had the opportunity to say yes again as I passed through the temple to receive my endowment,

and I did so, with much fuller understanding and intent.

So why does it matter now?

Why do I need to say yes when the Lord asks me to do this thing?

Because those yes's must be lived out every day, or in reality, what do they mean?

Anyway, just some thoughts on the eve of this week's Sabbath.  I can't do it all, sometimes I think I can't really do much, but I can say yes.  He'll do with it what He wants.  

And I'll get some pictures up tomorrow, I promise!

A Corrupting Influence (a break from all the heavy stuff)

I just had to share this little experience!

On Thursday, Nate brought home the mail at his lunch break.  I was SO excited to get the Ensign for this month, and eagerly ripped off the plastic cover to flip through it while the girls ate their lunch.  H, of course, was intrigued by my interest, so I told her we'd look at it together after our quiet time.

She didn't forget, and as soon as we were up and at 'em again in the afternoon, she wanted to get it out and read it.  We didn't get any farther than the inside of the title page!  There we found a lovely painting of the five wise virgins, and since she wanted to know what it was about, I began to tell her the story of the 10 virgins.  

"Once there were 10 beautiful girls.  They were all good girls, but five of them were wise, and five were foolish.  Wise means kind of smart, someone who thinks ahead, and foolish means someone who doesn't use their head - someone who doesn't get ready and think ahead.  Anyway, these girls were all invited to go to a very special party, a wedding party where someone was going to get married.  They  were so excited!  They got on their best, prettiest clothes - see, beautiful dresses and flowers on their heads!- and then waited for the time to come.  Each one of them had a special little lamp in her hand,  a lamp that they could hold up and light the way for all the special people coming to the wedding when the bridegroom came.  See those little lamps?  What else to they have in their hands? See those little bottles?  Those are bottles of oil.  The wise girls thought ahead and made sure they brought extra oil to burn in their lamps, but the foolish girls did not.  

While they were waiting, guess what happened? It got later and later, and pretty soon, they all fell asleep.  It was dark, and they were all sleeping when suddenly, far in the distance, someone yelled, "The Bridegroom cometh!"

They were all still kind of asleep, but then they heard it again!

"The Bridegroom cometh!"

Hurry, hurry, everybody, straighten out your clothes!  All your lamps have gone out!  Quick, let's light them!  But remember, what was the problem?  The five wise girls brought extra oil, but did the foolish girls? No!  Oh, no!  Their lamps were gone out and they had no oil to light them!  They asked the wise girls, "Please, please, let us borrow some of your oil!" 

But the wise girls said, "We can't give you any!  Then there won't be enough for any of us!  Run, run quickly to the store and buy some!"

But while those foolish girls were gone, guess what happened?  The bridegroom came!  And there was a whole group of people, cheering and dancing and playing music, and the five wise girls got to run in the front with their lamps burning brightly! (a little poetic license;) Everyone was cheering, "The bridegroom cometh!  Hurray! Hurray! The bridegroom cometh!"

They all went along to the bride's house and then they all went inside! And because it was night, they shut the big gates, boom!, and locked them so no bad guys would sneak into the party.  It was such a great party!  There was light and tasty food and music and dancing, and everyone was so happy!

After a while, those five foolish girls came running up to the door, and they knocked on the door, bang! Bang! Bang! 

"Let us in! Let us in!" 

But the bridegroom said,"I'm sorry, I don't know who you are! I can't open the door!"  And those foolish girls were left outside.  They didn't get to go to the party at all.

This was all told in half-narrative, half-dramatized voice, and H. loved it so much that she had me repeat it three times in a row!  Her favorite part was hearing me shout, "The Bridegroom cometh!"  and then running around and dancing and holding up her "lamp" while cheering and shouting it herself. ;)  Lots of fun!

Awhile later, her mama came to get her.  Of course, at that moment, the adults are all in a hurry and the children are all like molasses.  I hustled H. upstairs to get the blanket she'd brought, and we found Eden in the spare bedroom, investigating a box of prepackaged alcohol wipes.  (Nate was nearby.)  H. wanted to know what those little things were, so I told her. 

"They're alcohol wipes.  Come on, lets go!"

"Can I have one?"

Aaahhh! Let's go! "Sure! Here, here is one for you.  Now let's go!  Your mama is waiting downstairs!"

"Oh! OK.  I'll save it til I'm grown up!"

What?! That's strange. Whatever! 

She still dawdled.  I tried to gently hurry her along.  No luck.  At the top of the stairs, she totally stalled.  You know how little kids' pockets and hands never quite seem to fit together properly?  She was trying to stuff it into her pocket without success, and would not go until it was safely stowed.  I told her to just go downstairs and her mama would help her, but she started to hyperventilate and lock her knees so I offered to just put it in her pocket myself.  That calmed her down.

"And so my mama won't know.  It will be a secret!  She can't know!  Hide it from her!"

Again, what?! 

"Honey, its ok! You can show it to her and she'll help you use it!"

"No! No! We have to keep it a secret!"

Ok.  Whatever.  It was in her pocket, we finally made it downstairs and they were out the door.  

Fifteen minutes later, as Nate and I were getting ready for a date, I heard my text alert ding.  It was from H.'s mom.  Apparently, H. couldn't hold her secret in any longer and so she confided to her mother that I had given her alcohol to drink, and it was hidden in her pocket!!!!  

AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!

That was why she told me she'd "save it until she was grown up!" That was why she wanted to keep it as secret from mommy! and why she freaked out about taking it downstairs in the open!

So here I am, a corrupting influence, teaching my little charge bible stories in the afternoon and then sending her home with a little alcohol in her pocket.  Yep, that's me!

(Thankfully her mom trusts me, and carefully explained what I'd actually given her and how it was used.  I'd hate to think what kind of memories of me she'd carry through her life if not!)

Women of Character

First, thank you to all of you who have left comments on various posts!  I love to know that someone is reading my thoughts, and your words uplift and encourage me.  I may not reply to your comments specifically, but please know that I read and treasure them.  They mean so much to me!

A few weeks ago, I received an unexpected package in the mail.  I always like to get mail, even those random catalogs that come from LL Bean and the like, :) and this proved to be much better than a random catalog!  A dear friend who has known me nearly all my life very thoughtfully sent me some words of encouragement and a book entitled "Women of Character."  Its full of the stories of LDS women, from many backgrounds and through many choices and circumstances, from the early pioneers to today's women.  The essays are just the right length for a busy, tired mama (or anyone else!) to snatch up and read during a baby's nap, a bathroom break, or a brief moment of quiet on the couch, and then mentally chew on throughout the rest of the day's duties.  Its been a blessing and an inspiration!

The other night, after a particularly difficult day, I lay in bed and this book came to mind.  I was having a conversation with myself, arguing back and forth between self-sacrifice and insistent discontent, between bad attitude and stuffing emotions, between wanting to be a good wife and wanting to have things my way...  The mental club kept whacking me upside the head, "This shouldn't be so hard for you... Just suck it up and be happy!...Come on, 'daughter of the pioneers,' what happened to cheerfully living with your decision?..."  I don't know why those things even come to my mind to say to myself; I'd never say them to someone else who was struggling!

So this book came to mind, at first as more ammunition to launch at myself - they did it, why can't I? They even had it worse, what am I complaining about?  Look at all my blessings, why can't I just be content?  It was not pretty.  But then I started to see things differently.  Yes, they were great women.  Yes, they overcame difficulties and persevered and demonstrated faith and love and sacrifice.  BUT! I was reading their stories after the struggle, on the other side of the difficulty, when the trials were passed.  Of course what stands out is the fact that they made it, they did it, they got through with grace and went on!  That's why we read such stories for inspiration!  It suddenly struck me that these women surely had their moments of inner turmoil, that being mortal, they had their moments of weakness, that there were undoubtedly moments when they wished things were, or could be, different, and probably even times when they (*gasp*) had to vent or complain or even burst into tears!  Yet those moments didn't diminish the greatness of their lives, the truth of their triumphs.  I doubt any one of them thought of herself as a heroine or someone who was going to be set apart in history as an exemplar of certain virtues, but here I am, reading their stories for encouragement and inspiration in my struggle.

I don't think of myself as a great heroine or some exemplar to stand on a pedestal.  I know too well my inner (and sometimes outer!) struggles and faults to presume that role even if I wanted to.  But it was a blessing to realize that having these struggles does not mean I am bad, or unable, or weak, or even particularly selfish.  Hard things are hard, regardless of why or whether they "should" or "shouldn't" be.  The point is to get through them the best we can, with forgiveness, faith, and a healthy measure of God's grace to see us through.

Yes, I've been really struggling.  Yes, there are days when my attitude needs pretty constant adjustment.  Yes, there are times when things are not so good.  But I make it through, day by day, and when I can humble myself enough to accept it, the light of heaven gently shines through in small and unexpected ways to ease my burden and help me along.