Listen

It snowed more yesterday, which means Topher spent more time asking to play outside. Cooper saved the day by taking him out once school work was complete. Sophie joined them for a bit too. While they played, I stayed inside and worked on dinner in a warm kitchen, occasionally taking pictures from the doorway.

Near the end of their time outside, after Sophie had already come in, I was standing at the kitchen sink and had the thought to open the blinds in front of me. I had opened the other blinds and curtains in the kitchen, but this is a small window and I just hadn't thought of it yet. I reached up and twisted the handle to see outside.

Cooper had asked for tools so they could build a snow fort. He was wielding a snow shovel while Topher had a plastic beach shovel. As I watched I saw Cooper intent on digging snow, but Topher didn't have a tool in his hand anymore. In fact, I saw him turn toward the back of our yard and begin walking toward one of our trees.

Our yard is large and lovely, but, as of yet, unfenced. There's a significant swale near the back, then the ground comes back up and the yard ends at a moderately busy street, depending on the time of day. A fence is definitely on our list of things to add to the house, but we haven't gotten there yet. This information is important for what happened next.

As I watched Topher head for the back of the yard, my heartrate sped up. I wanted to race outside, but I held back, waiting to see if Cooper would notice. He didn't. As Topher started walking down into the swale I ran from the window to the backdoor and yelled, "Cooper!!! GRAB HIM!!!"

Cooper's head flew up from where he'd been focused on the shovel and the snow. He turned to see Topher disappearing below the hill of the swale. Cooper ran toward Topher as fast as the snow would allow and caught him as he was heading up the other side, the side that is a few steps from the street.

Today I'm thankful for the small prompting to open the blinds so that I would see Topher as he walked to a place we've told him not to go. I'm thankful for my loud voice to get Cooper's attention. I'm thankful that Cooper didn't stop to question, he simply ran. And I'm thankful that neither boy made it to the street.

Embrace the Change

As a family we made the prayerful decision to pull the kids from our local school district and sign them up with an established cyber school. We finished the applications a few days before they announced a cap on new enrollments. Last week we docu-signed the official paperwork. On Friday morning we got an email with the kids new user names and passwords and instructions on how to access the school website.

Since then I've spent several hours each day (and I didn't realize I had any extra to spare) learning how the new school will work, reading questions and answers from other parents on the Facebook pages, ordering supplies off the lists that we now have access to, urging the kids to plow through as much of the summer reading homework as possible, and continuing to prepare our house to become school on Monday.

I feel like I should be stressed and overwhelmed and nervous about how this is all going to go down. I mean, all the other parents seem pretty nervous. And, honestly, I am stressed and overwhelmed, but not about this. I'm approaching this school year with much less stress and anxiety than usual. When I realized that I started pondering why. Why am I not riddled with nerves? Why am I not freaking out with questions about how I'm going to effectively supervise the real schoolwork (the end of last year was rough on families and teachers alike and did not conclude with much real schoolwork) of four kids at four levels while still running the house and engaging Topher?

And here's the answer I've come to: because it's the right choice. This is the right thing for our family right now. Peter is adamant that this will only last a year. Phoebe is ready to embrace it long-term. I have no idea what will happen educationally for our children when this school year is done. But I do recognize that peaceful assurance that comes from seeking divine guidance, then following it.

Hot Air

In preparing for our Sunday School/Primary lesson last Sunday I felt strongly that we needed to talk about the forgiveness section of the material. Our reading for the week taught that God will forgive as often as we repent and that we need to forgive as well. This is something our fiery, justice-loving bunch needs to keep relearning.

I brainstormed and internet-searched for a good object lesson. I came across several that would have been fine, but wouldn't quite communicate what I wanted to teach. Then, shortly before we were supposed to start church, I found an object lesson that sparked another idea.

After we had had a good discussion about the chapters that we read last week, which included forgiveness, I pulled out a balloon that hadn't yet been inflated. I asked them what happens when we choose not to forgive. They said your heart would get hard and you would be grumpy and you wouldn't hear the Spirit. I told them that was all true.

Then I started to blow up the balloon.

When it was still fairly small I told them that not forgiving is called holding a grudge, and that when we hold a grudge we give space in our heart and our thoughts for whatever has hurt us. Sometimes the grudge is small, but the more attention we give it, the bigger it gets, and the more space it takes up. I said that when we decide not to forgive we put energy into the grudge.

Then I blew the balloon up even more.

I kept blowing and blowing until it was really big. I told them that we have a few choices when someone is unkind to us. My original goal to demonstrate the first option had been to blow it up until it popped, but as I got closer and closer to that point everyone (Bryan included) got really anxious. So, instead of popping it, I talked about what it would be like if the balloon did pop, how shocking and messy it would be. Then I said that sometimes we give so much space to the grudge that our feelings pop like a balloon and we lash out at whoever happens to be closest to us whether or not it's the person that caused us the pain in the first place. We talked about a few real life examples where that's happened in our own house. And we all agreed that we didn't like that solution.

The second option required Peter's help. I'm not good at getting balloons to make that high pitched squeaking sound that happens when you let the air out slowly, but Peter is a pro. That's how this picture that I shared on Monday came to be.

I said that you can decide to forgive, but then keep complaining about the wrong that happened to you to everyone around you. It's like the balloon letting out a little air at a time. It'll finally deflate, but it's pretty painful for everyone around you while it's happening. The kids thought this was hilarious. I had warned Bryan that the lesson was going to get loud, so he removed himself to another part of the house for that bit of teaching.

I retrieved the balloon back from Peter and I blew it back up to its full size. Then I said that a third option would be to just let go of the grudge or the hurt and forgive. And with that I let go of the balloon and the kids squealed with delight as it zipped around the room, growing smaller and smaller as it flew. 

Then I handed out balloons to all but Topher and I told everyone to blow up their balloon but to not tie it off. Almost everyone followed the directions and the one that didn't handed their full balloon to Topher to enjoy while they tried again with a new balloon.

I instructed them to think of something they were upset about, something maybe they hadn't been fully forgiving over. Then I told them that when they let go of the balloon they would let go of the hurt. And they did. Our balloons went flying.

Until I taught the lesson I wasn't sure what I was going to say about forgiveness, just that it was important. But it's true. We can choose to feed the beast of hurt, the grudge monster, by focusing on it and filling our minds and hearts with it, like a balloon filling with air. We can complain loudly about it, and slowly get over it, and sometimes the hurt is so big and so deep that we have to use this approach to work through all the pain and confusion we've experienced. But sometimes, often, we have the opportunity to take that offense and simply let it go. I'm going to try to make this last choice more often.

Practice What You Preach

I was listening to a book sometime last week (or the week before maybe?) and a phrase caught my attention.

"Practice kindness."

I've heard those two words stuck together before and my brain registered it to mean doing kind things for people. But this time a different meaning occurred to me.

When you want to improve at something, what do you do? You practice. My kids practice piano (sometimes) and math and reading. I spend time on this blog practicing my writing. And we know from research that deliberate practice yields much higher results than half-hearted, begrudging practice.

But how often to we deliberately practice being kind?

That's what I heard this time when the phrase "practice kindness" was said. The inspiration that came in that moment was strong. It said that my family needs to deliberately practice kindness. Because, unfortunately, we aren't doing so well at being kind right now.

I would love to blame the fighting and name-calling and critical words and judgement and hypocrisy and pride on being stuck inside a townhouse together for over five weeks. And maybe that's why it feels so overwhelming and concentrated right now. But the truth of it is that we've had these issues for a long time. Some of us have trained our brains to see the negative to the point that happy, good, uplifting things are not even acknowledged. We have practiced negativity and we're reaping the rewards.

Now, that doesn't mean that every moment is awful. But when a friend recently texted me how thankful she was for this extra time at home with her family because of how strong their relationships were becoming, I almost cried. That is not the experience we are having. Many days I feel like a broken record as I respond to the choices around me. "Please, just find a way to be kind, please."

That is why "practice kindness" struck such a chord with me.

I talked to Bryan about this on Saturday night, then introduced this idea to our kids at the end of our church lessons on Sunday and challenged them to think of ways that our family can practice kindness. I told them we would discuss it during Family Home Evening. Then, yesterday morning during our family scripture study we read Mosiah 4:13-15:

13 And ye will not have a mind to injure one another, but to live peaceably, and to render to every man according to that which is his due.14 And ye will not suffer your children that they go hungry, or naked; neither will ye suffer that they transgress the laws of God, and fight and quarrel one with another, and serve the devil, who is the master of sin, or who is the evil spirit which hath been spoken of by our fathers, he being an enemy to all righteousness.15 But ye will teach them to walk in the ways of truth and soberness; ye will teach them to love one another, and to serve one another.

I pointed out the importance of what we were reading for our situation. I was so excited to revisit those verses and make a plan last night for FHE to help us be kind. Then yesterday turned into an awful day. Really, really bad. I made the decision to postpone Family Home Evening by one day, to tonight. I could tell that we would not have receptive hearts and minds last night.

In spite of not having our official family council, I still asked the kids if they had thought of any concrete ideas to help us practice kindness. I was able to talk one on one with a few of them and hopefully keep their brains working on this topic.

What do you think? How do you practice kindness in your life? How do you teach and encourage your families to be kind, even when they're tired and stressed and would rather be mean? What council do you have for us as we make a plan to deliberately practice kindness?

A Message, Just For You

Every six months, after watching General Conference, I ask friends and family what big themes they got from the talks. There are usually a handful that we all see in common. Then we marvel at how the speakers knew just what we needed.

This year I've asked (or been asked) the same question, what were the themes from Conference? We've all said different things this time. We agree when someone brings up a theme, "Oh yes, I can see that," but that's not what stood out to us.

This was surprising to me at first. Was I not paying enough attention? How could I have missed so many messages? I was sitting in Testimony meeting on Sunday, listening to the many different themes that the people in my Ward got from Conference when a reason occurred to me.

This year a major shift took place in our church, moving to a home-centered, church-supported curriculum model. I wrote about it the first day of 2019. Each family was invited to spend much more time together studying the scriptures, specifically the New Testament, and the Gospel. We've also been reminded on a nearly weekly basis that personal revelation is a vital component of this. We've focused on this aspect in our own family study.

I suspect one reason we each got such different messages this time is that we've been working so actively on attuning ourselves to personal revelation. Each week we've had to determine what our family needs to hear from the assigned chapters, what our classes need, what we personally need. We've practiced listening to the promptings of the Holy Ghost. We know that the more we practice something the more proficient we become. We have practiced listening, and then acting on those promptings.

I shared this observation as a piece of my testimony on Sunday. Since then I've had people tell me they had noticed the same things.

I am so thankful that we can hear the same talks and yet receive such wonderful and divinely individualized messages.

Worth the Wait

Sometimes I think about how long it took us to get Topher. I mean a few different things by that. He joined our family nearly seventeen years after Bryan and I were married. That's a lot of years to wait to meet someone.

But I'm also talking about the span of time between getting that overwhelming and direct impression that there was another child waiting to come to our family. It was two and a half years from that divine prompting until his birth.

And then I think about what would have happened if I had ignored that message from the Holy Ghost? Would it have kept coming? Or would we have missed out on this incredibly precious little boy?

Then, no matter which of these thoughts is in my head at the moment, I snuggle him close, breathe in his 12-month-old sweetness, and say a prayer of thanks that he's here.

The Conference Report

This past weekend was something I look forward to every six months, General Conference. I watched nearly all five sessions (I missed part of the Priesthood session doing bedtime stuff) and am looking forward to diving back in to listen to the talks again.

As always, there were certain talks that really stood out to me. Here are the top seven in no particular order:

• Careful Versus Casual by Becky Craven (Peter and Cooper said this was their favorite too.)
• A Home Where the Spirit of the Lord Dwells by Henry B. Eyring (This talk was a direct answer to prayer.)
• Behold the Lamb of God by Jeffrey R. Holland
• Abound With Blessings by Dale G. Renlund
• "Come, Follow Me" by President Russell M. Nelson
• Exercising Our Spiritual Muscles by Juan Pablo Villar
• Christ: The Light That Shines in Darkness by Sharon L. Eubank

I tried to make that a top five list and couldn't. There were several others talks that I enjoyed and learned from as well. And the music, which is always gorgeous, was stunning. The kids did a great job on Saturday and even shushed each other a few times so they could hear the talks. Sunday was a little rougher, but we made it.

There were a few unexpected moments of humor from things the kids said during Conference. I took notes.

Sophie: What's his name?
Me: President Eyring.
Sophie: President Irony? He's my favorite.

"Wow, he's young".-Peter, looking at Ryan Murphy, the Associate Music Director of The Tabernacle Choir on Temple Square.
"Does he even age?!" -Cooper, right after Peter.

"Key change!" -Sophie, every time there was a key change in any of the songs.

"I don't have a wife. What should I do about that?" -Cooper, after hearing President Nelson talk about Priesthood holders treating their wives well.

I'm so thankful for General Conference. I love the spiritual uplift it gives and the peace it brings into our home.

Heaven on Earth

On Saturday I finally made it to the Temple for the first time this year. It was wonderful. The Philadelphia Temple is so beautiful and the experience had many surprises that made my heart happy.

As I got into the elevator to go into the Temple from the parking garage, a man got in as well. He asked if I had a name to do. I said no, then he asked if I would do one for his family. I told him I'd love to. He handed me a card from a stack he had pulled out of his coat pocket. Knowing that I was helping a family made my time in the Temple more meaningful.

A couple from my ward was serving as Temple workers while I was there, which was especially comforting since I got a bit turned around and it helped to see a friendly face who also knew which direction I needed to go. And there was a couple in my session from the ward that shares our church building. They've sung in the choir the last two Christmases and we smiled and said hello.

When I go to the Temple I have a question that I'm prayerful about. This time I got two clear answers, both impressions that I've gotten before. The first is that I need to consistently get enough sleep. The second was that we have too much stuff and need to actively get rid of as much as we can. This has been on my mind for a few weeks, that if we had less stuff we would have more peace, more time to enjoy each other's company, fewer arguments about chores. The kids have been pushing back because, in Phoebe's words, they "love all the stuff!" But when I told them that the same answer came in the Temple, they all accepted it more readily. We'll see how it goes following that inspiration over the next few weeks.

My trip to the Temple was made possible by Bryan and the kids sacrificing their whole day. The Temple is an hour and a half each way, plus two hours at the Temple itself. That's too long away from Topher and too long to have Peter be in charge of the kids at home. So everyone came and sat in the waiting area and on the Temple grounds while I was inside. I had some pretty grumpy family members when I exited. But thankfully I was so renewed from my visit to the Temple that I had a lot more patience than usual.

I love the Temple.

The Waiting Game

When Phoebe and Cooper get home from school I say something like, "Hi! How was your day? Tell me about it." And then they do. They give me details and tell me about things their friends said and did and provide a nice glimpse into their day.

When I ask Peter about his day he shuts down. He says, "Fine. I don't know." This started during sixth grade. And it was frustrating. There was this huge part of his day that I knew nothing about and he had no plans to clue me in. I thought about how I could get him to talk to me. I prayed about what I could do differently. I researched what other parents have done in similar situations.

Good news, I found something that works.

Now when Peter gets home, I don't ask him anything.  I say hi, welcome him home, but that's it. At first I was anxious that I would never learn about anything that went on at school, that without my prompting he would just stop telling me stuff.

But then, after a few days, he started talking. And as the months have gone on, he's told me more and more. There are days that I really want to ask what happened at school, but I take a deep breath and wait. Sometimes I need to wait longer than others, but it still works.

Patience pays.

You Get What You Need

Yesterday was not a great day. Everyone was tired and grumpy/sassy/mean/argumentative. Bryan had to work late so I was faced with four very loud children who all needed me to pay attention to them at the same time. On top of that, there was a meanness that just wouldn't go away. I begged that we stop the bossing and the critical words, but I was met with deaf ears. It got so bad I didn't something I'd never done before: I told the kids I was done for the night.

At 5:50 I took Topher upstairs, locked my door, and got him into his pajamas. I sat and tried to do his bedtime routine. I was determined not to go back downstairs until either Bryan was home or the kids had found their way to bed. While Topher ate, I thought about what I would read or listen to or watch to keep my very tired self awake. That's when I remembered that I needed to go over my Sunday School lesson for this coming Sunday. I opened the material on my phone and started to read.

One of the talks I was supposed to study wouldn't download from the link in the lesson manual. I tried four or five times and the connection kept failing. I finally decided to go find it a different way. I opened what I thought was the correct set of General Conference talks and started looking for the speaker.

That's when my eyes fell on a talk title that sounded familiar. It wasn't the one I'd been looking for, but I got the distinct impression that it was the one I needed. I listened to the first few minutes of Jeffrey R. Holland's The Tongue of Angels from the April 2007 General Conference, then paused it and decided that I needed to share it with the kids. At that moment Peter knocked on my door. I answered it and he asked if he could give me a hug. I said yes. He told me that while I'd been upstairs the kids had cleaned the previously messy first floor. Topher and I followed him down the stairs and I thanked everyone for cleaning. Cooper had even served the leftovers I'd been preparing when I'd retreated to my room.

Then we all watched the talk together. I paused it halfway through and we talked about what we'd heard, then we finished it. We discussed more about how the teachings applied to us and what we could do to be better. We said family prayers and headed off to do the bedtime routine.

I don't want to have another day like yesterday (though I'm certain we will), but I am thankful that it ended well. And I'm thankful that I was still able to hear the Spirit whisper that we needed to listen to that particular talk. I'm going to count it as a tender mercy.

Read My Words

I was recently called to teach Peter's Sunday School class. They're a talkative, active bunch. On Sunday our lesson was about journals. I decided to begin by reading a few selections from the blog since it doubles as my journal. (I do have a separate journal as well, but it gets very little of my attention.) 

On Saturday night I sorted through old posts, looking for stories and experiences that would speak to the ten tweens and teens that I would be teaching. After an hour of review, I had eight pages of possibilities. I ended up only using three of them. After the lesson I was reminded about how much I'd like to print the blog, a goal that I've had since the beginning but has been pushed aside for more urgent projects.

Then last night for Family Home Evening, Peter, who was teaching the lesson about the Holy Ghost, asked to use one of the stories I'd read in Sunday School. Again I thought that I finally need to have a physical copy of these words.

My lesson included this quote from President Henry B. Eyring:

I wrote down a few lines every day for years. I never missed a day no matter how tired I was or how early I would have to start the next day. Before I would write, I would ponder this question: “Have I seen the hand of God reaching out to touch us or our children or our family today?” As I kept at it, something began to happen. As I would cast my mind over the day, I would see evidence of what God had done for one of us that I had not recognized in the busy moments of the day. As that happened, and it happened often, I realized that trying to remember had allowed God to show me what He had done... The years have gone by. My boys are grown men. And now and then one of them will surprise me by saying, “Dad, I was reading in my copy of the journal about when …” and then he will tell me about how reading of what happened long ago helped him notice something God had done in his day.

Not everything I post is a spiritual experience, but many are, and all are things I want to remember. And I want my children to remember. That means I need to make these words available to them.

I guess I know what my next big project will be.

Facing a Fear

Peter gave his first talk in Sacrament Meeting yesterday. He was completely terrified. Peter is my only child with stage fright and apparently he got a dose large enough that it could have been shared among all the children. Bryan and I insisted that Peter write his own talk, though we were available for questions and edits. The process was torturous. He took ten hours to write a three-minute talk. He even asked if there was a backup talk if he didn't finish his in time. Nope, I told him, no backup.

When it came time for him to practice saying the talk on Saturday night, he wouldn't. It took at least five minutes of back and forth for him to even start reading it aloud, and I was the only other person in the room. On Sunday morning before church I found him reading a book. I plucked the book from his hands and told him he should be reading his talk instead.

After the Sacrament was passed in church yesterday, it came time for Peter's talk. I discovered, as I watched him climb the steps to sit on the stand, that I was incredibly nervous, probably more nervous than when I am the speaker. I had been praying that he would be brave and articulate.

He did a wonderful job. He looked up several times while he spoke and didn't stare at his pages as I feared he might. His voice sounded lower than it had before. He had one small snag near the end when his pages got shuffled, but he recovered nicely.

Here's the talk. We were happy that he was able to make it as long as it is since he wanted to stop writing at the one-minute mark.

The Covenants We Make at Baptism and Blessings They Bring

When we are baptized, we make sacred covenants with our Heavenly Father. We can find these covenants in Doctrine and Covenants, Section twenty, verse thirty-seven: “And again, by way of commandment to the church concerning the manner of baptism—All those who humble themselves before God, and desire to be baptized, and come forth with broken hearts and contrite spirits, and witness before the church that they have truly repented of all their sins, and are willing to take upon them the name of Jesus Christ, having a determination to serve him to the end, and truly manifest by their works that they have received of the Spirit of Christ unto the remission of their sins, shall be received by baptism into his church.”  

We covenanted to become members of the Church of Jesus Christ, to be called after his name, to serve God and keep His commandments, to serve each other and bear each other’s burdens, and to be witnesses for Christ and His Church.

The blessings of these baptismal covenants are that if we keep our covenants, then the Lord promises that we can have everlasting life in Heaven, that we can be forgiven of our sins, and we can have the Holy Ghost .

In Robert D. Hales’ talk in the October 2000 General Conference, he says: “ At baptism we make a covenant with our Heavenly Father that we are willing to come into His kingdom and keep His commandments from that time forward, even though we still live in the world. We are reminded from the Book of Mormon that our baptism is a covenant to “stand as witnesses of God [and His kingdom] at all times and in all things, and in all places that ye may be in, even until death, that ye may be redeemed of God, and be numbered with those of the first resurrection, that ye may have eternal life” (Mosiah 18:9).”  

Just over four years ago, on January 19th, 2014, I was baptized. When I was eight, I didn’t know how special it was to be baptized. Sure, I knew it was special, but I didn’t fully know why. I now have a better understanding that baptism lets us make covenants that allow us to return to live with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ again.

If we keep our covenants, Heavenly Father promises that we’ll have the Holy Ghost with us to comfort and direct us. There have been times where other people around me have been goofing off and I’ve really wanted to join them, but then I’ve had a prompting that I should walk away and do something calm. I’ve followed the promptings and left the room and a few minutes later the friends that were goofing off would get in trouble. If I hadn’t listened to the Holy Ghost, I would have gotten in trouble too. This is one small blessing of keeping my baptismal covenants.

I bear my testimony that I know that if we keep our baptismal covenants, we can have the Holy Ghost as a constant companion to comfort us and guide us and  we can return to live with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ again. I say these things, in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

The Math Wall

As part of his homework, Cooper is supposed to practice multiplication facts everyday for at least five minutes. Bryan or I need to witness/assist with the practice for it to count (no pun intended), and then we have to sign a calendar that Cooper keeps in his binder, thus making the practice official.

We have struggled with this assignment. Rather, Cooper has a had a hard time remembering the facts, despite practicing them each day. We've shown Cooper flashcards with the equation and had him answer out loud, we've listened to songs that contain the facts (hello Schoolhouse Rock), we've played clapping games and recited the facts together. None of it really worked.

I was praying and pondering over this dilemma. The question occurred to me, "How does Cooper learn?" Cooper's a pretty visual kid. So am I. When I practice something, it helps me to see the answer, then when I need the information later, I can recall it and see the  picture of the answer in my head. None of our practice techniques, not even the flashcards, had the answers printed anywhere.

And that is how the math wall was born.

I found these printables by searching for multiplication facts on Pinterest. I intended to print them out all the way up to twelve, but the printer ran out of colored ink and decided not to print the last four pages. I'll add them later.

How does it work?

Well, Cooper is kinesthetic in addition to being visual, moving helps him concentrate and remember. Everyday Cooper stands in front of this wall and recites all of the facts twice, all while alternating between doing jumping jacks and marching in place. The kids think it's great fun and often join him, even Sophie who likes to yell out things such as, "1 times 2 is 6!" But the other three are solidly learning their multiplication facts.

And guess what? It's working for Cooper. He takes timed math fact tests every day at school. For some reason, Cooper freezes under pressure. So even if he knows the answer, he overthinks everything. Before the math wall, Cooper was only getting a handful of problems done in the minute he was allotted. A few days ago he came home from school, excited to share his success. His goal for the test was getting twenty-five answers correct in one minute. Instead of his usual four or five, he had gotten twenty right!

Being a mom is a hard job, I can't imagine how much harder it would be without inspiration.

Edelweiss

As part of our nightly bedtime routine, each child picks a song for Bryan or I to sing or play. Phoebe likes to stick with Christmas favorites (regardless of what time of year it is) and rotates between Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, Away In a Manger, and Silent Night. Cooper goes for a medley of Hush Little Baby and one verse (it's different each night) of I Am a Child of God. Sophie actually gets several songs because she asks for a playlist I've curated of classical music featured on Little Einsteins. Her favorites are Eine Kleine Nachtmusik by Mozart, Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven, and Peer Gynt Suite No. 1 by Grieg. Peter almost always asks for Edelweiss from The Sound of Music.

I was nearly done singing Peter's song tonight when I registered a few of the words in a way I'd never heard them before. "Blossom of snow may you bloom and grow, bloom and grow forever." Now, the song is talking about a pretty little white flower and the patriarch of the Von Trapp family is wishing for its, and his homeland's, safety.

But suddenly I wasn't singing about a flower. I was singing about a boy born during winter, one that has been uprooted and replanted far too many times. A boy who is growing tall in body and mind and spirit.

I finished the song and I said, " Peter, my hope for you is the same as the singer's hope for the flower in the song. I hope that you bloom and grow forever." And then we talked for just a few minutes about what that means.

That insight was a tender mercy for this mom. And maybe for that not-so-little boy going through a hard time. He has the ability and capacity to bloom and grow and flourish, sometimes despite opposition, and sometimes because of it.

Be of Good Cheer

Cooper had a hard time during bedtime tonight. He was overtired and is already prone to naughty-word-spewing, the combination of which did not earn him any positive rewards. As I was singing Sophie her bedtime song, he yelled that I needed to come snuggle him "right now!" Yelling doesn't work so well on me, so I kept singing.

"I hate you! You're the worst mom ever!"

Those words hurt, but I've heard them so often that I've built a defensive wall for when they start flying in my direction. I wasn't going to say anything at all in response. But Sophie turned her shocked expression toward her angry brother and said, "No. She good." Then to me, "You good. He being stupid."

I was touched by her quick defense and hid my embarrassed amusement while I asked her to please not call her brother stupid. But as I laid her in her bed, my thoughts went back to Cooper. He didn't know that I planned to sing to him and snuggle with him as soon as I finished with Sophie. He couldn't see things from my perspective. All he knew was that he wanted something and he wasn't getting it and that made him mad.

How often do we do that as adults? We want something, we pray for it, it doesn't come according to our timetable, so we get mad. We wonder why God has not heard our cries, why he hasn't answered them the way we had planned. Do we ever respond with frustration, as Cooper did tonight?

This has weighed heavily on my mind recently. I'm watching loved ones struggle with pain and anger and what appear to be unanswered prayers. My prayers have been pleas to know how I can give aid and comfort and understanding, but my own hands have felt tied as I've watched them struggle.

Today, during an inspired five-minutes of quiet, individual scripture reading with the kids, I came across Doctrine and Covenants 78, verses 17 and 18.

17 Verily, verily, I say unto you, ye are little children, and ye have not as yet understood how great blessings the Father hath in his own hands and prepared for you;
 18 And ye cannot bear all things now; nevertheless, be of good cheer, for I will lead you along. The kingdom is yours and the blessings thereof are yours, and the riches of eternity are yours.

 Heavenly Father knows us. He knows our wants and our deepest needs. He loves us and has our best interest at heart, even if we can't always see it from our limited mortal perspective. Those scriptures were an answer to my prayers. I still don't know how to give help, but I know that help exists, that hope exists, and that these trials will have an end.

Cooper's night ended with a hug, a kiss, a song, and an "I love you," one for him, and one for me.

Learn Who You Really Are

Did you watch President Russell M. Nelson's devotional on Sunday evening? If you didn't, you really should. The talk is geared toward young single adults (he even uses the term "millennials"), but don't let labels stop you. Everyone can benefit from this profound address.

You can access the talk on lds.org, or just click here.

After you've watched or listened or read, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

What Are Your Weekend Plans?

I'll be spending ten hours listening to the divinely inspired leaders of my church, being spiritually strengthened and renewed, and feeling the Holy Ghost. This is one of my favorite weekends of the year.



I invite you to join me. You can watch or listen at these times.

Peter's Epiphany

Peter had a major realization last week. I asked if he would write about it for the blog. He said he would dictate his story to me while I typed. Here it is, in his words.

One night I had a bad dream. It was about a tornado. After I had the dream I was scared of the wind and sounds that sounded like the wind. I would freak out and say, "Mommy, I'm scared! Is that a tornado?" A few days later, I realized that the day before I had the dream my brother had been really naughty. Then I thought, "Maybe it was contention that caused my bad dream." After that, I tried to get everybody in my family to stop contention from coming and be obedient instead. After that, I tried to be as obedient as I could and my mom said that there has been a different feeling in our house.

Since that day Peter has been a different boy. For several years he has been prone to argue and talk back. And by prone, I mean he fought with us almost everyday of his life since he was four. This has been a huge source of contention in our home and family, and it has gotten him in trouble many many times at school and church. Bryan and I were pretty much at the end of our rope and didn't know what else to do to stop the arguing. When Peter discovered the link between contention and bad dreams (which I believe is quite real), he went from being an antagonist to a peacemaker. And it's true, the feeling in our home is drastically different and such a wonderful and refreshing change.

It's only been a few days, and I have no idea if it will last, but I really hope it does.

Without a Title

In naming the first three children, we had quite a bit of debate. We would go back and forth suggesting names we liked, vetoing names we didn't. But when they were born and the doctor held them up for the first time and asked if we had a name, we always did.

Not this time.

If we had gone with the most recent name we had been discussing (which is what we did with Cooper), her name would have been Autumn. But when the doctor asked, we looked at each other and knew that Autumn did not feel right.

So she was known as baby girl. We called and texted family and friends to give the exciting information: "My water broke on its own, then they had to give me pitocin which really got labor going, then an epidural, but the epidural didn't have time to take full effect before she was ready to come! She's our biggest baby at 8 pounds 10 ounces and 20.5 inches long and has a head full of dark hair. Oh, her name? We don't know that yet, but we'll tell you when we do!"

Each nurse that came on duty would ask her name and I would have to say I didn't know. The woman that filled out the complimentary birth certificate worthy of framing kept coming to our room and asking if we had picked something. Each time I sent her away empty handed.

Why the delay?

We had a short list of names that were in the running. My favorite name on the list ended up having kind of a weird meaning and was dropped from consideration. That left a few names that Bryan had suggested. I kept trying them out when I would talk to her and only one name felt right.

And here's where the problem comes. The one name that felt right was the name that I really didn't care for. How could that be? I couldn't give a child a name that I didn't completely love, could I? And the name was popular, which went against my naming policy. It did have a great meaning, but still, I must not be listening correctly for this inspiration.

Except I was pretty sure I was.

So Bryan and I talked and we prayed and kept trying the name. And when he and the kids came to take us home from the hospital, we introduced them to their baby sister, Sophie.

She has a middle name too, but of course I never put middle or last names on the blog. Just know that her full name looks really nice written out, it has a sort of visual balance to it. And look at all four kids' names next to each other: Peter, Cooper, Phoebe, Sophie. They look like they fit, you know?

No, it's not my favorite name, but it's her name. I needed to move myself out of the way to see that. And I sure love this little girl, no matter what her name is.

Operation Empty the Storage Unit

We're in the middle of a project. If you look at the title of this post, you'll see what that project is.

A few weeks ago I started having thoughts that we needed to go through our boxes and suitcases that were still packed in the storage unit, seeing what we needed and what we didn't. Bryan came home from campus that very day and told me that he really thought we should sort through the storage unit, maybe even see if we could empty it.

When we independently have the same idea, it means we should listen to it.

So we began the process of emptying the storage unit. We have three reason for doing it. The first is that Bryan's job will move us, but they'll only pickup our stuff from one location, so eventually everything would need to be brought here anyway. This way we can make sure we're only moving the stuff we really want and not just the things we've forgotten about because they've been packed away for so long. The second is that the storage unit costs money that we'd rather spend on things like, you know, rent and food. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, we were prompted to do it.

In the last two weeks I've sorted through every box of clothing the kids have outgrown and a few that they haven't grown into yet. I've gone through my own clothes as well. I've thrown out old magazines and reorganized yearbooks and pictures. I've emptied seven twelve-gallon storage bins that we've been hauling from house to house. I kept a lot of those clothes, but I realized we probably don't need to hang on to worn out onesies and duplicate items.

Our little apartment is feeling littler, but not in a bad way. I think once we finish the sorting and find homes for everything we'll be glad we did it. And we've liberated a few items that had been deemed too big and were left in the storage unit, my Kitchen Aid stand mixer and large Crock-Pot among them. We can fit more of our stuff because we hauled over a tall set of industrial-strength shelves and placed them at the end of our kitchen table. My shelf space has increased dramatically.

We still have a ways to go, and there are a few items that we're at a loss as to where we'll stick them. But we'll figure it out. This whole endeavor is kind of exciting, like we're working on a huge puzzle, trying to see what fits where. And I think it's good preparation for the many moves we'll be making in the next three years.