Christmas 2010: Not "Sew" Bad!

I don't have anything much to say; I have just missed writing. So much has happened in the last four months, it seems like it's actually been an entire life time some how. I wish I could expound, but my brain hasn't caught up with all my feelings yet. I don't know how to articulate my experiences, so I won't try now. Sometime soon I hope to have a quiet moment when I can pull it together and make sense out of these months. I deeply hope there will be a meaningful nugget of truth to share. But if not, I still desire to share my experiences if only to be understood. That post will have to come later. For now, I'll catch up on a few things:

Last December we had a very tight budget as we are trying hard to get out of debt 100%. For a family our size and and only one income, this will likely take us about ten more years. (I'm hoping that miracles take place and shorten this time!) Anyway, we have been quite serious about stickingtoour designated budget, but realized that this would mean NO extra money for Christmas presents. So, I decided to make each child one special gift using inexpensive materials. This took a lot of work for me over the weeks leading up to Christmas, but it was actually a joy beyond my expectations. I was surprised to find snippets of time here and there where I could work uninterrupted. I was surprised also at how fast and easily I worked. Truly I was watched over and helped. My one son wanted a "Santa robe" and cap and slippers. I miraculously found some cute Santa slippers for $5 at Walmart, but had to make the robe from scratch with no pattern. I finally resorted to "copying" a robe we had at home that was several sizes too small. I laid the robe on the ground and studied every aspect. Then I carefully used my scissors to just "guesstimate" what shape and what size each piece should be. I was marveled at the result. Again, I felt heavenly help.

During one particular moment at the sewing machine, I suddenly remembered my Grandma Cora Sheffield (mom's mom). She passed away years ago. I hadn't known her very well, as we lived far apart, etc. but I remembered that one Christmas she made beautiful silk pajamas for all the granddaughters and printed flannel PJs for all the grandsons (this was no small group! More than 20 pair). Then I remembered more, like how my own mother had sewn Christmas ornaments one year with me (I still have one of those), and how mom had also spoken of making all her own clothes in college. I knew I was part of alegacy. I was creating. I was in tune with something divine, some God-given talent that had been dormant in me for many years. I have never felt a connection with this Grandmother, but suddenly, it was if we two were one; like she was guiding my efforts, my hands. I didn't waste one piece of material, no "unpicking" (a miracle for me). The whole experience was just blessed.

In the end, I made two blankets, a wall hanging, crocheted 3 scarves, embroidered a book, made the robe, made a flannel scarf with a secret pocket for an iPod, and cut out pieces for a play fort (still yet to be constructed!).

In my opinion, it was the sweetest, happiest Christmas I can recall. We spent Christmas Eve studying our different nativity sets (around 15 I think), reading "The Living Christ" (which we are currently memorizing as a family), and sharing our testimonies about the Savior. The next morning the children had literally only one homemade gift from us, and one store bought gift (we miraculously found some extra money right before Christmas!). It took very little time to open gifts, but we savored each one. The children were exquisitely grateful. It almost seemed like a scene from "Christmas Carol." I shed tears of joy all morning. Truly when we live within our means, Christmas "means" so much more. Our giving was from our hearts. It was the best of what we had to give. It represented much thought, care and sacrifice.

My daughters Hannah and Michaelah made gifts as well. Hannah created the tiniest clay nativity. It is so precious and beautiful to me. Truly she is an artist. What a wonderful day.

The Lord knew I needed that moment of peace, that snatch of heaven, before the ensuing months.

Then, after a crazy couple of months, I was able to dust off my sewing machine again. This time to create a Junior Prom dress. It was designed in my daughter's beautiful head. However, she has not sewn much and didn't know how to construct it. I begged her to choose a pattern we could simply alter. She did, and together we kept at it until we ran out of time (her date literally waiting in the front entry!). It wasn't quite as she had envisioned, but she did look lovely. And for me, another miracle was felt. Due to my stressful month, we were only able to start sewing at about 8 pm the night before. Around 4 am she finally drifted to sleep (she had a 7:30 am choir competition!). I stayed up throughout the night and completed as much as I could. There were many elements I had never encountered, such as a full lining and netting and adding non existent sleeves to the pattern. (Thanks Aunt Becky, for doing the sleeves!). It was a challenge in every way. But again, I felt the divine help as before. I only "unpicked" once on just a small portion. What a miracle (with satin especially!).

So, what is the moral of the story today? I don't know that there is one. Frankly, I am tired of being clever. I just wanted to share these feelings and experiences and joys that I have felt from being a mother. That is all. I am humbled, grateful, tired and peaceful. I have really good kids. Really good. I thank my God for that.

Bring ye all the ^atithes into the storehouse, that there may be^bmeat in mine house, and ^cprove me now herewith, saith the Lordof hosts, if I will not ^dopen you the ^ewindows of heaven, and pour you out a ^fblessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it.

Malachi 3:10

Family, Inc.

I love this time of year. In fact, I think Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I love that it hasn't yet become overly commercial and that the focus is still simply on giving thanks.

I was dismayed to learn that some stores are now opening on Thanksgiving Day to attract early holiday shoppers. I sincerely hope this does not become widespread. There seems to be such a true "Peace on Earth" on Thanksgiving. Folks seem content to be at home. The holiday frenzy that runs from "BlackFriday" until after New Years has not yet begun and world just seems "still."

This year we joined with our extended families for Thanksgiving and therefore I did not prepare an entire meal, but I did get to contribute one of my favorite items: pie. Making pie from scratch always reminds me of one special person, my paternal Grandmother, Sarah Aldora Alder Keller.

Grandma Keller, as we called her, was an extraordinary woman. Not only did she graduate from college in the 1930's, but she raised four children and even took more college courses. She was an expert teacher and had a gift for preparing then sharing in just the right way. She used her gifts to serve others. She taught for many years at the Intermountain Indian school in Brigham City miles away from her home in Logan, Utah where she continually built confidence and character in many struggling youngsters. Also, while my Grandpa Keller served in the Department of Agriculture under Ezra Taft Benson, Grandma taught Sunday School in College Park, Maryland. People of all faiths would attend her class and would come from miles sometimes to do so. It was there at the University of Maryland that she took a course in Philosophy as well.

You would think that such an intelligent woman would not be very domestic. You might imagine that such a person wouldn't know her way around the kitchen, but this was not the case! On the contrary, Grandma Keller was the very epitome of grandmotherly cooks. As a child, I didn't know anything about Indian schools, philosophy classes, federal departments and such. I only knew one thing: my Grandma Keller was the best cook in the world.

Grandma would spend most of her time in the kitchen. I was fascinated by her cooking and baking skills. I followed her around in the kitchen, wanting to be a part of it all. She never shooed me away or acted as if it were an imposition at all, though now I can see that my constant "helping" was most likely more work for her. During these countless hours together in the kitchen (in the days before video games or even VCRs!), she taught me so many things. I remember the lessons on fractions. I could double and triple recipes in seconds! We went over the Articles of Faith, the state capitals, we talked about family history and other family issues, and of course, we cooked. I stirred, mixed, kneaded, prepared wax paper or pans, etc.

I knew when it was time to be silent too, like when the caramel was just about to form, or when the nougat was at the boiling point. I watched silently in awe during those moments when she would work her magic; my eyes mesmerized by her hardworking, skilled, beautiful hands. Her hands were as "doughy" as her rolls. Sometimes while she kneaded, her grandma hands would disappear as she became one with her creation for a moment.

Grandpa and Grandma Keller have been gone for a while now. I am grateful that they are together, but I sure do miss them. Grandma Keller was a "kindred spirit" to me. She was patient, soft spoken and wise. She treated me with respect and as if I were much older, always trusting me to understand and to be a positive force in my family.

So, the other day while I was busily making pies (Grandma would be happy!), I suddenly tried to remember a particular word that she would use to describe a certain cooking process. Grandma was raised in Cache county and her dialect reflected that. I loved how she said "lard" for example, which came out more like "lord." There was a special word she used to describe the process of mixing ingredients together until they were just right. As I worked the shortening into the dry ingredients, trying to make a coarse meal, I labored through mental gymnastics trying to remember that word! It was on the tip of my brain, though I'm sure I had not heard Grandma say it for more than 25 years. Finally it came to me! A tear came to my eye just as a smile came to my lips. "INCORPORATE!" that was the word! She would always say, "stir this until the flavors incorporate," "mix that until the wet and dry ingredients incorporate," etc. I was cutting in the "lard" until it was "incorporated" into the dry ingredients. I paused to reflect how this word applied to more than baking.

For Grandma, family was everything. She was unafraid to teach essential life lessons even when it meant great sacrifices for herself or her children. She built character and confidence in each member of her family whenever she could. Although she was qualified to work in any setting, her greatest desire was for the betterment of her family. One example was how she insisted that they have cows mainly to provide honest labor for her children. Her "business" was family. This realization has helped me see with more clarity than before, what my daily business should be. As I use my gifts and talents to benefit people outside my home, I am trying my best to still "incorporate" the needs of my family. For example, drama and music are two things I love. I therefore enjoy conducting musicals, but I do so where my children will be involved with me. This is a joy, to use my non-domestic talents, but still involve my family.

I know that Grandma Keller left a legacy more far-reaching than just my life. She affected many people, including strangers, but especially all my cousins, and now our children, as the next generation learns of her and reaps the benefit of her education.

I will ever be grateful for her friendship, her example and her lessons to me. I see now that during all those hours in the kitchen, she was "incorporating" me. I am thankful at this Thanksgiving season for her ability to incorporate family with her many talents. I am thankful for her good son, my father, who passed down many of her strong character building ideals and her baking traditions from homemade bread to candy. I am thankful for my mother who knew my needs and allowed me to spend so many uninterrupted hours in the kitchen and elsewhere with Grandma.

Most of all I am thankful for my Heavenly Father who is the wisest of all parents. Who organized this earth experience and organized our families with such care. I am thankful He allows and even expects us to use our God-given talents to build the kingdom in every way, including building joy for all involved.

I hope someday I will have a child or a grandchild who remembers my "hands in the dough" of life and knows how very much I love and live for "Family, Incorporated."

Happy Thanksgiving!

PS: I made apple and pumpkin pie, yum! (photos taken by my amazing daughter Michaelah)

"The Family is ordained of God...the Family is central to the Creator's plan for the eternal destiny of His children."

The Proclamation on the Family,

First Presidency 1995

Sharing Mascara with my Teenage Son and Loving It

The summers of my youth were spent under the stars performing at our local outdoor amphitheater. How I loved it! The smell of grass, the cool balmy evenings; folks stretched out on the sprawling lawn with their blankets all cuddled up and enjoying "Music Man," "South Pacific," or "Oklahoma!" as only Jerry Elison could direct.

Two summers ago realized my children were growing up at an alarming rate. My oldest was already 16! None of them had ever been in a Scera Summer production. I was completely ripping them off! And, they would never understand this one place in my heart, this one love of soul without having that experience. ("What about your husband?" you say? no worries, I made him be in a play with me there while I was 5 months pregnant with our oldest. I wisely realized it would be our last chance! He got a bigger part than me, the stinker!).

Anyhoo, I decided to persuade my eldest son to try out for "West Side Story" to be performed in June of that summer. He finally agreed. He made it! Yes, he was ok talented at that time, but let's just face it, he's also a guy. and they always need guys. Or so I thought. Wow! He was amazing! He was one of the Jets (can't think of his really hilarious name at this moment, but hopefully he can remind me!). Anyway, I couldn't believe how much dancing he learned and he was really quite good!

Well, it has gone on from there. He has had several lead roles at the high school, just recently appearing as Nathan Detroit in Guys and Dolls this last week. He was fantastic! To top it all off, he was named the Orem High School Sterling Scholar for Speech and Drama just yesterday!

That summer in West Side Story he came to me on opening night and said, "Um, mom, do you have any mascara I can borrow? They said I'm supposed to bring it." I handed him some and smiled. "Hmm" I thought for a moment, "is this a good thing?" but then I thought about many of his peers. It seems to me that the average american teenager spends hours in front of the computer or TV each day. Many are overweight and unhealthy in many ways. I thought, "This IS a good thing! He's out there, exercising, learning, growing, sharing his talent, telling an important story, making people remember things, feel things; and best of all, smelling the grass and seeing those stars."

He's such a wonderful kid. Just turned 18. Wow. I'm having a hard time with that. But he's grown up so great that I can hardly grumble. In less than one year he'll be out of my home. You always hope you've done enough. I have faith that the Lord will make up the difference. So, this is my little belated birthday tribute to him. Love you sweetheart!

Jacob: Drama Sterling Scholar, 4.0, Senior Class President, Choir student director, obedient, loving son and brother. Happy Birthday Sweetheart!

"Every son and every daughter of God has received some talent, and each will be held to strict account for the use or misuse to which it is put."

Joseph F. Smith

(Check out video clips from Guys and Dolls on my Facebook page!)

On the Right Track

or

Don’t Chuck Your Banjo in the Fire

(written 1/2009)

Recently I started running at the BYU track in the early morning hours with my neighbors. To say that run "with" them is not entirely accurate. Actually, they kindly drive me there and then leave me to my own fate while they glide around the track for forty-five minutes like gazelles.

While they run, I attempt my own routine of running, then walking, then running again for about 30 minutes, after which I have to stop and start “stretching out.”

I suppose I could feel self-conscious that I am not as fast as they are. I could feel really badly about my lack of physical fitness. I could wallow as I watch them and many others lap me time and again. But instead, I just keep on moving around and around, knowing, that even if I am not the fastest, strongest, leanest person there, still, because I am there, at least I am on the right track!

The other day I ran into two old friends there. One I had known in Berkeley sixteen years ago. The other I had known in Philadelphia twelve years ago. Now it seems they live across the street from each other in Provo! It was fun to walk a lap or two with them and catch up. What a great place to meet people! Later that same morning I saw Sister Susan Tanner (recently released General Young Women’s President) on the track. I’ve never met her personally, but just seeing her there gave me a thrill. I caught her eye and we exchanged warm smiles. I felt a beautiful spirit in her presence. Talk about the place to be! Wow! Wonderful people are on the BYU track at 6 am on winter mornings. This is good to know. And even better to experience.

There are lots of other folks there too. Some remind me of my grandparents. They don’t move too fast, but there they are, plodding around every corner. Some are hunched and stooped, but they keep on going with smiles on their wrinkled, well-worn faces. Others are younger. Two couples actually had strollers on the track! One gal walked with her baby in a Snugli. Some are in groups chatting away. Others are very alone, tuned in to their own music. Each of these people is someone I would want to know, though each of their stories is unique.

I pondered how the track was much like the church. All of us come to the church from a different place. Some of us are recent converts, maybe we’re just starting out and feel like we aren't as fast yet as we'd like to be.  Others have pioneer ancestors who paved the way and who seem to be able to sprint for miles! But wherever we are on this “track,” we are each at our own pace and yet, all in it together. We may walk for a time with a certain group of friends, then, we grow and change. Perhaps we reconnect with special friends at a later time. Perhaps right now we are just “going it alone,” marching to the beat of our own “drum.” But surely, if we stay on the track, surely we will eventually become faster and stronger! Not tomorrow, but perhaps in the next generation, our children and theirs will be sprinting as leaders on this track.

It does not matter where we are on the track. It only matters that we are there! If we are on the right track, Elder Bruce R. McKonkie lets us know that we cannot fall off of it!

“. . .You don't have to be perfect to be saved. If you did, no one would be saved. The way it operates is this: you get on the path that’s named the “straight and narrow.” You do it by entering the gates of repentance and baptism. The straight and narrow path leads from the gate of repentance and baptism, a very great distance, to a reward that’s called eternal life. If you’re on that path and pressing forward, and you die, you’ll never get off the path. There is no such thing as falling off the straight and narrow path in the life to come, and the reason is that this life is the time that is given to men to prepare for eternity. Now is the time and the day of your salvation, so if you’re working seriously in this life—though you haven’t fully overcome the world and you haven’t done all you hoped you might do—you’re still going to be saved. You don’t have to live a life that’s truer than true. You don’t have to have excessive zeal that becomes fanatical and becomes unbalancing, what you have to do is stay in the mainstream of the Church and live as upright and descent people live in the Church—keeping the commandments, paying your tithing, serving in the organizations of the Church, loving the Lord, staying on the straight and narrow path. If you’re on that path when death comes—because this is the time and day appointed, this is the probationary estate—you’ll never fall off from it, and, for all practical purposes, your calling and election is made sure.” (Bruce R. McConkie, “The Probationary Test of Mortality,” address given at the University of Utah, Jan. 10, 1982.)

My brother Nate plays the banjo. With this wonderful skill, he has toured all over the world, spread much joy and had many missionary moments. He is so good, in fact, that one could possibly call him the second best banjo player in Utah. The best banjo player in Utah is a natural-born wonder named Craig Miner. Craig plays the banjo as if it were a classical guitar: effortlessly.

Recently, Nate began teaching my 11 year-old son how to play the banjo that he just got for Christmas. Thinking that he is no good, my son has decided, after three lessons, to quit banjo forever. My son reasons that compared to Nate, and compared to his cousin (another beginning student), he is not very good. Nate explained to my son that Craig Miner is better than he is. He then said, “Should I therefore just throw my banjo into the fire? Just because I am not as good as Craig, should I just give up and be nothing?”

I thought about that a lot. Nate has done so much good all over the world because he plays the banjo so well! It would be unthinkable that he should quit just because there exists some other person who happens to be better than he is!

I have this nagging habit of constantly comparing myself to other women in the church. I don’t do it with any malice. I just know and recognize that I am not as good as so and so at ____________. Therefore, I should not have this calling, these children, this house, this car, this body, etc. etc. I talk myself out of a whole lot of good because I am not the “best.”

I think the “right track principle” can be applied here. If we are all in this together, and yet, each on his own journey, then it doesn’t matter how good I am at something! I’m still on the right track! I am in the right place at the right time and I am doing my personal best. As I endure to the end, I will gain speed, accuracy, strength and skill. But no matter where I am now, or later, I am still doing good, just by being there! And who knows? I might just be providing the example that someone else on the track needs to keep going! Or maybe I am an example to some outside the track who see me go in each morning and see me come out with a smile! Maybe they are wondering, “Hey, what am I missing in there?”

So, whenever you are tempted to compare yourself to someone else or if ever you decide that your current level of skills and gifts are not “good enough” to share or to build the kingdom, remember! Don’t chuck your banjo in the fire! Just keep on going! You’re on the right track!

P.S. For anyone who has already read this, forgive me. It's been on my mind lately and I thought I'd share it with the new readers too. Thanks!

Back to School!

This year was the best back to school shopping ever. The kids had earned and saved up their own money to pay for their supplies/clothes. After the shopping trip, one daughter said, "I feel proud of myself!" It's a good thing they paid for themselves, because the school "fees" just about broke us! (over $1200 for seven kids in public school!). We'll have to start budgeting for school fees year round.

This song from Tarzan ("You'll be in My Heart") is "my" song with my kids. Every time I hear it, I think of each one of them and my heart smiles. I wanted to dedicate this song to each of them now as they start the school year. No matter where they are, they are still in my heart always.

The Supposed Inefficiency of Manual Sprinklers

There is a little house in our neighborhood which has been for sale for a very long time. I finally got up the courage to call the realtor to ask if I could "stage" the house to help attract a buyer. He kindly allowed me to do that (sad that I have so much extra furniture in my garage that I actually COULD do that). ANYWAY, as time has gone on, there has been some interest, and even an offer, but nothing the seller could agree to.

Meanwhile, the summer heat has taken a toll on the yard. It completely turned yellow. So, we jumped into action again. Now we are watering by hand every day and mowing the yard, etc. The owner called and was grateful for the help, said he'd pay my boys to do it. Often, however, its been just me out there moving the little sprinkler around the yard during the day.

At first I was trying to set the sprinkler (the kind that produces a "rainbow" of water that rotates from one side to the other) right in the middle of each yellow patch. The yard is smallish and I didn't want to "waste" water by having the "rainbow" arch of water land on any of the cement or the house itself or the gravel driveway, etc.

After many days I have noticed, however, that there are some dry patches that literally can NEVER be reached when I use this method. I have realized that sometimes, I HAVE to run the sprinkler in a place where much of the water lands on cement in order to actually hit certain dry patches. (I realize that if I had a different sprinkler head, this might not be true, but as I don't, this is the case).

It got me thinking about people. Sometimes I think that as parents and friends and extended family members, when we attempt to "love" someone, we try to be "efficient." Meaning, we try to give them what they need without wasting too much of our precious time or energy doing something that we really don't want to do. Perhaps sometimes we feel our efforts are wasted and that our words of love are perhaps falling on "deaf ears" or onto cement.

However, as I have watched these little patches of grass grow, I have realized that "showering" someone with the love and affection THEY need, in the ways and places and times that THEY need it, is perhaps the ONLY way to help certain relationships and love "grow."

We may feel that we are expending too much time or energy (do I really need to SIT DOWN and watch cartoons with my kids?) or that our efforts are misdirected and mostly miss the mark (is it really worth the all the money to go on a family vacation? can't we just stay home and hang out with each other? Does my extended family really care if I show up to their baseball games or piano recitals?), but I am starting to feel that any and all our efforts to love those around us, especially our children, are never wasted, no matter the cost.

In other words, love cannot be inefficient, love cannot be quantified. And next time I'm tempted to opt out of some seemingly silly bonding time, I will remember those little dry patches and just what it takes to reach them.

Closed For Inventory

All moms understand how hard it is to get to the store. You plan around naps and extra curricular activities. As you have more children, you might even plan so that you can go alone, perhaps in the evenings. But then you run the risk of certain stores being closed, etc. There never seems to be a really convenient time to go shopping. And of course, if you finally get out the door at a decent time, someone will need a diaper change or a change of clothes or a snack, etc., etc!

There is one store in particular that I have been meaning to get to for weeks. I pass it often while on the way to my regular shopping destinations. However, this store is full of breakable trinkets so I know I can't bring too many children at once. Finally last week, there was a perfect window of opportunity. The planets were aligned just right! I excitedly pulled up, parked and bounded to the door, only to find this sign: "Closed for Inventory: Jul 5-9." Wow. Really? Does anyone really "close for inventory" anymore? And for a whole week? I was shocked. And frustrated. Do they know how hard it is for me to get to their store?

But then I thought about it. As I slowly made my way back to the van, I realized that the trip had not been totally wasted. I had, in fact, been reminded of a very powerful message. I too need to take time out of my busy, regular schedule to take stock of my life. I imagined me posting a similar sign on my bedroom door. I should be making time, perhaps each day, to really ponder my mission, to determine my priorities, to discover where I lack and where I have an abundance that I can share.

All too often I feel I am "spinning my wheels," forever journeying and never "arriving" at my destination. Of course, being a parent is a constant journey. And truly, there is no destination other than the daily joy as we witness the growing of our children. Still, I have such better days and nights when I have taken some time to commune with my God, to ponder the things of eternal value before getting back on the race track.

This sign, "Closed for Inventory," has become an important reminder and an invitation to me to MAKE time (it won't happen otherwise!) to search, ponder and pray each day. And maybe every once in awhile, to spend even more time ( a week?) really deeply searching and assessing.

Hopefully, my family will be happier and better off as I really try to create this balance in my life.

Take Time to Be Holy

Take time to be holy, speak oft with thy Lord;

Abide in Him always, and feed on His Word.

Make friends of God’s children, help those who are weak,

Forgetting in nothing His blessing to seek.

Take time to be holy, the world rushes on;

Spend much time in secret, with Jesus alone.

By looking to Jesus, like Him thou shalt be;

Thy friends in thy conduct His likeness shall see.

Take time to be holy, let Him be thy Guide;

And run not before Him, whatever betide.

In joy or in sorrow, still follow the Lord,

And, looking to Jesus, still trust in His Word.

Take time to be holy, be calm in thy soul,

Each thought and each motive beneath His control.

Thus led by His Spirit to fountains of love,

Thou soon shalt be fitted for service above.

(by William D. Longstaff)