Pretty things

My craft room shelves are full of soft, colorful, whimsical gifts for Christmas. I wish I could post some pictures, but my projects are top secret. This year I am giving to my brother Joe and his kids. The goal is comfort and joy for this precious, buffeted family. As November turns to December, and until Christmas, you will find me embroidering and hand sewing in the late evenings. Heaven.

Last night I gathered with my presidency to package our Christmas and 2017 birthday gifts for the sisters in our ward. The Christmas gifts are not quite ready to show, but the birthday gifts are ready. We will give each sister one of these lip balm packages on her birthday. They are so pretty. Richard helped me make the labels to stick on these little jars that we ordered from Bulk Apothecary. I found the “Charity Never Faileth” graphic on Pinterest. These gifts are less than a dollar each with packaging.

Nativities

I like to watch the kids set up the Nativities each Christmas. One thing I have noticed over the years is that children often set up the figures in a close circle around Jesus, each figure as close to the Christ Child as it can be without excluding anyone, even the animals. This simple arrangement makes sense to a child and gives us a view of the backs of shepherds and wise men, and very little view of the baby.

Tonight I watched Mark set up a Nativity like the figures were in a huddle and then change his mind and open the circle a little bit. He turned a few figures so they were in profile view, allowing us to see not only their expressions, but the one they worshiped.

Perhaps there are times when we need to huddle in close and focus on our faith, but more often, I think we need to open our circle and share our reaction to the Savior’s presence in our lives with others.

I want to be really good at being a shepherd, welcoming others into the circle. I want to be like the angel who gets to tell the good tidings, “Jesus lives!” and, “He loves you!” I want to be like the wise men who study and have a true understanding of their King. I want my life to point to Christ, just as each figure in the Nativity looks to Jesus.

Verses 1, 3, and 5 especially

Thou gracious God, whose mercy lends


Thou gracious God, whose mercy lends
the light of home, the smile of friends,
our gathered flock thine arms enfold
as in the peaceful days of old.

Wilt thou not hear us while we raise
in sweet accord of solemn praise
the voices that have mingled long
in joyous flow of mirth and song?

For all the blessings life has brought,
for all its sorrowing hours have taught,
for all we mourn, for all we keep,
the hands we clasp, the loved that sleep.

The noontide sunshine of the past,
these brief, bright moments fading fast,
the stars that gild our darkening years,
the twilight ray from holier spheres.

We thank thee, Father; let thy grace
our loving circle still embrace,
thy mercy shed its heavenly store,
thy peace be with us evermore.


Words: Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr., 1869

Finding Joy in the Desert

My early years in Arizona were intense and isolated. I didn’t have a lot of friends and I was with the kids all day, every day. I was home schooling and Richard had many church obligations on Sunday and some weekday evenings. One evening, Richard took the three boys camping and Paige was at a friend’s house watching movies. I realized I would be alone all evening, and none of my children needed me.

I sat on the couch, and the silence hovered all around me. The piano wasn’t being played. The dishes were done. No one was asking me for a cup of milk or a bowl of goldfish crackers. The accumulated fatigue from my lifestyle seemed to settle like a frost, and my body, used to constant motion and focus, took its cue and didn’t feel like doing ANYTHING. I couldn’t settle on what to do with this time alone. I had lost excitement for things other than parenting that I loved to do.

I had hit a wall of exhaustion, and it would take more than one night alone to sort things out. But I did. I wasn’t always exhausted, but there was a pessimism that hounded me. I hope my experience can be helpful to someone else.

Now that the fog of those early parenting years is gone, I see more distinctly how stretched I was. To be clear, I loved playing with, teaching, reading to, and spending time with my children. But it was also very difficult. Writing my worries about the kids and my doubts in my parenting choices in my journal was a healthy outlet. I’d come away from a good journal-writing session feeling like the problems were expressed and solutions were on the way. I rarely took time to write about the good things about parenting in my journal, though, and that was something that needed to change.

Being tired, even exhausted, is a real part of being a parent of young children. Difficulty doesn’t necessarily mean something is bad. Those early years are a temporary marathon. If I could do it again, I wouldn’t feel ashamed of my personal need for solitude. I didn’t want to give the impression to anyone, especially the kids, that I saw parenting as a burden. But parenting IS a burden; it is a worthy, beautiful burden, and like any burden, it needs to be set down sometimes. I was wrong to think that taking some time away from the kids was selfish. It taxed my mental health to deny myself time with Richard and deny myself time alone. It created impossible dilemmas in my marriage. My prayers suffered. I could physically do the things I needed to do, but my spirit was faltering. I had developed a bad attitude about so many things.

I found my way out over the next few years by making some very minor adjustments in my life. There is nothing religious in my formula except a search for joy. I didn’t pray more or make huge efforts in temple work. I just decided to focus on the happy side of my story. I was still a stay at home mom with 4 children to educate. Richard was still busy at church. We were still living in the desert. All that changed was my attitude. The change came gradually because I did the following (these are links to old posts)*:

*If you are a parent of young children, perhaps your needs are different than mine. While I needed solitude, maybe you need more time with friends. I needed independence; a housekeeper or regular babysitter would have been too hard for me to accept. You may be different. Perhaps help around the house would be just the thing. Pride and comparison can get in the way of finding joy, too. It seems to me that the best thing to do is make a list of your interests, gifts, limitations, and dreams and make a plan. Finding joy can be as basic as smiling at a belligerent toddler instead of getting angry, or finding time to do something you love, even for one minute.

Birthday wishes

letter writing is so like, in right now...:
Image from goodmailday.tumbler.com via Pinterest

The General Conference Ensign magazine just arrived in my mailbox. This is one of my favorite birthday presents each year. I don’t like having a birthday on general election day, and this year I don’t. Richard has been asking me what I want for my birthday because I am someone who has everything, truly, everything. My wardrobe is immense, thanks to receiving hand-me-downs my whole life and because I can’t stop buying new blouses. I have a credit for books that I haven’t exhausted. I have time to read, write, create, make music, and be with friends.

I don’t need anything except maybe a new violin shoulder rest to help with my back pain as I play. When I told Richard I would love some new plastic cups for the kitchen, he just stared at me, trying to gauge if this was a trap. No way was he falling for that line, “I only want some plastic cups!” But that’s the kind of thing someone who has everything might actually want.

I love giving gifts, but not receiving them. I do love cards and letters. I guess if I had a birthday wish, it would be that people would write a little something to me. I think this is actually a pretty difficult thing for most people to do, so no guilt vibes from me. I also have a great love for sweets and anything that smells of coconut or vanilla.

And now I feel ridiculous for writing this self-centered post. I feel this great longing to do something that doesn’t involve thinking about myself.

We celebrated

Halloween feels different when teens are at parties and there is only one child at home to go trick or treating with. Mark is tremendously fun company and we enjoyed our walk through the neighborhood.

Have you read Bram Stoker’s Dracula? The description of Dracula includes the usual things you see in a classic costume, but one horrible detail is that he had hairy palms. Eww.

Timothy had no words to describe what he was dressed up to be, and neither have I. But the costume had the funny factor for sure.

Mark and I are pretty proud of the jack-o’-lantern we created.

The morning light of November 1 finds my shelves adorned with Pilgrims and Indians and expressions of thanks. Let the celebration of gratitude begin!

Hello Halloween

I realized the following:

  1. We haven’t carved pumpkins.
  2. I haven’t bought Halloween candy.
  3. Only one boy is dressing up this year. I think.
  4. I am ready to put up my Thanksgiving decor as soon as we stop seeing trick or treaters.
  5. I might like to dress up this year. I am thinking Rosie the Riveter.
  6. Paige is having fun being an illustrator and got her first commissioned project. Her Instagram feed this month has been whimsical and cute.
  7. Mark decorated his room with spiders and 6-inch plastic skeletons. Hanging just inside the door is a spider with a full human skeleton in its grasp. It’s so morbid that I can’t bring myself to take a picture.
  8. I have been sick and Richard took good care of me. Now that I am feeling better I will need to start cooking again.