Headlines of Consequence

Pioneer Trek photo by Susan Vaughn
Last summer, as an intern for the illuatrator of this book, Paige watched him paint this cover and helped with some background illustration. It is coming out next week.
Strawberry Pinnacles campout (There were other boys there!)

Connection and progress happen in the undercurrents of the to do lists and during transit between appointments. The on stage, public displays are a pinnacle, not the mountain we have climbed. They don’t call attention to themselves, but tiny, daily actions are life. Today I elevate some of these menial and plain things and dress them up as headlines:

Late night conversation keeps parenting goals on track.

Work at home issues forth connection and order.

Meal preparation: a rock in the fortress of home, every day

She waited weeks for a convenient time to ask family to move furniture.

A child is struggling? Pray with him.

Camping gear is well traveled.

Mother makes another trip to the store for gear and marshmallows.

Reconciliation evident in non-verbal ways

He often works from home at night to balance high demands of employer and others.

To avoid criticizing someone, mother pulls weeds outside.

Foregoing personal hobbies and family time, Scoutmaster pushes on.

Despite past failures, additional attempts are planned for family spirituality.

Dead, maggot-filled animal buried early this morning in the backyard

Stranded motorist helped by a kind stranger

She kept paper for taking notes.

Entire family commits to watching together a movie only one person will enjoy.

They sat down together at the table.

They took the time they needed to make a plan.

He changed the station again and again without hearing frustration from the driver.

Strength to do dishes and laundry is a blessing.

After years of being too busy, mother helps organize son’s collections.

He remembered to text his mom to let her know where he was.

She smiled instead of criticized.

He practiced each day.

He let his brother stick an earbud in his ear to hear a funny song.

They kept praying together.

6 letters

Last week I made a goal to write six letters, not emails or texts, just old fashioned hand written letters. I wrote to an array of friends and family and it was a good exercise for my dusty pen and neglected stationery. Writing letters is like planting a seed, then moving away, since I can’t see my friends’ faces as they read. Instead, I imagine happy receptions and hopefully a jump within the heart. The best mail carriers place real mail on top of the bills and junk. They know before you do that today you are a winner, because somebody thought to write to you. That has to be one of the sweet things about carrying mail, being in on secrets of the heart.

The Summer Treatment

The posture for May was heads down and knees bent for heavy loads. This last week of school finds me looking up from an appointment book that isn’t bursting out of the margins with the wispy, disconnected thought, “What just happened?”

The spring decorations on the shelves looked weary and a little dusty, so I cleaned and boxed them up. Next March, the same decorations will feel fresh again, and will be a welcome change to close out winter. The reds, whites, and blues are here to replace the pastels, and I have a few new toys to display. I am becoming the kitschy queen. So be it. We survived May, and the ferris wheel seemed an appropriate trophy.

In the high school, teachers turn students loose in the halls early from class, or just let their students play on their smart phones. Tim had one class today where they played Mario Kart. Tomorrow is yearbook day. As I remember, that day seemed so important. It’s the day you hope your friends will write something nice and then you spend a few hours studying each word and comma for meaning, then set the book aside and not look at it again for 30 years. Many of the boys will be unrecognizable in 30 years. The women change less.

Tim and two friends are mowing lawns and landscaping this summer. He will go on Pioneer Trek and a high adventure trip. Mark is going to Scout camp. Richard will camp and camp and camp and fully explore every possibility. I may paint, serve on a jury, and read a biography of George Washington. I may not do any of those things. All I know is that I will meet a lot more people for my church calling and try to remember their names. In the evenings I will turn on the ferris wheel and listen to the children play in the street until their sounds are replaced by the song of crickets and sprinkler systems.

We are ready for the summer treatment.

Pep talk

Today I made a big mistake. I didn’t set out to do it, but as I spoke to someone, my error became so clear that it made my hands shake. I have apologized and will learn from the experience.

I have power in Christ to dispel the shadow cast by a few terrible minutes. I choose to call today powerful in its teaching. I choose to forgive myself. I choose progress over pain. I choose to accept what Christ’s Atonement offers: the ability to move forward. With faith, I will find my smile again.

Home Work

We are moving forward with carpet after nearly seven years in the house. I guess this means we are staying, although we saw a lot more of our families when we lived out of state. Living close to family means we’re everyday relatives, not destination relatives. In fact, we went to St George this weekend and neither we nor anyone else took a single photo. I’m a little sad that I don’t have pictures of the missionary, his pretty mom now out of the hospital, the cousins, the aunts and uncles, and the grandparents who gathered to celebrate his service. We are still treated like destination relatives, but our stays are shorter. I love being present for the big and little things for the extended family, and there are some very sweet memories that I will treasure from this trip that do not require photographs to recall.

May has been its usual busy self. Richard was away from home all but one weekend, I think. The sprinkler system has been down, but the rain has compensated very well. My new church calling has stressed me out, but with each “first” and introduction, I see that things will be fine. The boys have stayed up late. We have still not planted the tomatoes. I don’t remember the last time I mopped the floor. But sometime this summer, there will be soft new carpet in the house, and I have a pretty new plant. The woman at the store who cares for the plants was a little sad that I took it home instead of her. I kind of want to name the plant Shiela. Wait. Did I just share that online?

Current study

I set out to find the “causes” of righteous behavior in the Book of Mormon. Beginning with the first verse and moving through each chapter, I began writing down things that led to righteousness: good parents, visions, dreams, the influence of others, determination to fulfill a covenant, rejoicing in the Lord’s hand in life, etc. Within a very short time, I found the goodness of God linked to the power of people to be good. With every effort shown by people, God was there, helping, guiding, inspiring, and strengthening. He is the source of the spiritual gift of faith. It is in Him that people can find a worthy placement of their faith. He sends blessings with perfect timing. He softens hearts. His Son’s atonement enables, purifies, and gives hope. He manifests himself in word, power, and deed. He is everywhere righteousness is happening. He is the “cause.” To be righteous is to allow His influence in.

I have had detracting voices to my religion throughout my life, some very close. My deep study is one reason I love my church with confidence. The Book of Mormon is true. As I have made it a manual for my life, I have felt its power. I have come to know to know what my religion is by dissecting chapter, verse, and words. It is good.

Yesterday I found a phrase I have not considered. “…all men shall reap the reward of their works, according to that which they have been…” (Alma 9:28)

What have I been to others? Have I been a light? Have I been a gentle place to land?

What have I been to God? Have I been a source of joy to Him? When needed, have I been able to reflect His light to others?

What have I been to myself? Am I as forgiving and patient with myself as I am with others? Is my focus on becoming or doing? Is my priority people or processes?

I have days when I am limited in what I can accomplish. On these days, I erase my to do lists. I have learned that my identity is not just tied to my productivity. There are very few essential things to do each day: pray, read scriptures, love others, repent, eat, and sleep. Righteousness is an identity more than a resume.

Head shot

Friends, I had to have my portrait taken for display. I cut my hair two times and practiced my smile while snapping selfies over the course of weeks. In the end, the photographer just used the first shot because I began to progressively twitch, blink, and smirk with each successive snap. When he said to smile presidentially, my face collapsed like a hot air balloon without a flame. He let me see my photos and magically altered the one you see. I am not this bright and shiny, ever. Brian Twede is the photographer and he is my friend, a desirable trait for a someone who has editorial power over your image. It has been 24 years since I had a portrait taken of just myself. Brian told me not to wait another quarter of a century to sit for my next portrait.

I might, because this was just exhausting.

Prom, Primary, Diamond Fork, Big Bad Mama, Anniversary

I made some new friends this week, three women I did not know before, but felt inspired to choose to serve with me at church. I spent time with each of them, one by one, talking about important things like families, dreams, and testimony and felt my heart warm. I’m not surprised that I love them. I’m surprised how quickly it happened.

I worried and prayed for a sister-in-law.

I enjoyed a date night with Richard for our anniversary, which included two restaurants and lots of roses. Then, lucky us, we had another evening together later in the week, each of us dressed in Scout uniforms, matchy-matchy. I thought I was through with my uniform, but I am delighted at some good memories that came when I put it back on.

I watched Timothy play in an ultimate Frisbee tournament and helped him with Prom preparations. I had a lot of time with Tim this week, and I am so grateful for that.

I disabled the family computer last week, which was mainly being used to watch YouTube videos. When the kids were little, there were times I would chant, “I’m a big bad mama and I’m not afraid of you,” (I know, I am ridiculous) aloud or in my mind when I had to do the hard things that young parents have to do: enforce bedtime, deny requests for sugar, insist on car seats, clean up messes, and react in a positive way to tantrums. Not even that mental chant helped boost my morale over the computer drama. The reality is, a teen tantrum is much more painful to endure than one from a three-year-old.

Richard came home with the best pictures of a Scout campout in Diamond Fork. He brought his smokeless fire pit and Chip brought his guitar, and the boys and leaders sang around the campfire and roasted marshmallows and biscuits as it got dark. Mark came home from the camp, hugged me, and asked what he could eat. Balance is restored.

Kindness Magnified

I wandered into some mean girls’ territory today at the library. As I leaned down to get a book off the shelf, I felt a small rubber band wiz by, and perhaps another. Finally a girl spoke up, “Stop it. That’s Mark’s mom.” I had been kind to this girl before, but wasn’t sure she would claim to know me. In a staggering act of courage against her peers, I saw my small kindness come back to me, only it had grown. It had taken a new form, and it was better than my simple favor. It had become this girl’s bravery and consolation, and it put a quick end to the mischief. I gave her my best smile and moved on, not so defeated as I felt before.

Music

I heard lots of great music this weekend from my family: a trombone quartet at a State music festival, a piano solo by Richard at church, and a concert at the Cathedral of the Madeleine with our niece in the choir. And my father in law commented on our family picture wall all afternoon. That was a sweet melody, too.