What Doesn't Kill Us, Makes us Kinder?

Treats are the easy part of Family Home Evening, this tradition that has us gather our families around us every Monday night for a gospel lesson, an activity or game, some songs, a prayer, and then refreshments.

I am an ardent believer in Family Home Evening. I have tried to faithfully hold it every Monday night, and the kids look forward to it.

I do not, always. It's like exercise. Sometimes you hate doing it, but you're always glad you did it once it's over.

I remember Family Home Evenings in my family growing up. Like a circus, they were, with nine children to entertain, uplift, and educate, while keeping a modicum of control. The cycle continues in my own family now, circus and all, no matter my pleas (or threats) to the contrary. But I will persist because I believe in the promises made by a prophet to those who will obey. And, I think it really does make our family happier. Eventually, anyway.

Yesterday's treat was easy to decide on. I knew I didn't want something too sweet because of all the Halloween candy that has been consumed over the last several days, so Lion House Banana Bread went into the oven early in the morning. But the lesson?

As the kids have gotten older, I have felt more pressed to make every lesson count. The weeks that the teens have left in our home are numbered and the pressures they face outside of our home are increasing. I want to pack a punch with our family time. I think long and hard each week. I search idea websites and the oodles of manuals and resources that I have here at home. And sometimes, at a loss, I pray. This was yesterday.

I told God about my concerns for my family, the things weighing on my heart for each of my children. I asked Him what He would have me teach. And very clearly, yet softly, came the answer.

Service.

I stayed on my knees for a time, thinking. Yes, service. To one another. There is too much contention. Too much mean-spirited humor. Too little kindness. How can we have the Spirit in our home if we're not even nice to each other? How can testimonies grow in mean little hearts?

I went back to some websites and found just a few scriptures. The classics.

"When ye are in the service of your fellowmen, ye are only in the service of your God." (Mosiah 2:17)

"For whosoever will save his life shall lose it; but whosoever shall lose his life for my sake and the gospel’s, the same shall save it." (Mark 8:35)

I found a great quote by Elder Robert J. Whetton that said, "Every unselfish act of kindness and service increases your spirituality. God would use you to bless others. Your continued spiritual growth and eternal progress are very much wrapped up in your relationships—in how you treat others."

Yes, yes, this is the perfect lesson for us. Teens who are struggling with their own spirituality--who find it difficult to be sober and reverent--need to be reminded that their growth is connected to the way that they treat people.

I decided to have the kids play "The Biggest Loser", a mock of that weight loss reality television show. But in this game, points are given for "losing yourself" in the service of others.

I knew it was the right lesson. Still, evenings are chaotic. Homework is strewn about. I'm teaching piano until 6pm, and then dinner (which was, thankfully, cooking in the crock pot) had to be assembled, served, and eaten. Teenage girl gets home from work after 7pm, and then the battle begins with the toddler, who every week wants so badly to be a part of "Family Evening", but who is the main source of disruption and frustration. One chance, I tell him. Again.

We sing a song, "Have I Done Any Good". Teenage boy rolls his eyes and moves his lips, but without producing a sound. The toddler jumps from the couch where he is sternly directed to sit without moving, and begins to dance wildly around the room. Teenage girl is feeling homework pressure. I can see it in her face, but she never complains. Now the toddler is jumping on the teenage boy who is laying on his stomach on the livingroom floor. I get up from the piano, and put him back on the couch. Keep smiling. Talk sweetly.

A prayer. (Hasn't worked yet.)

A few announcements and then we stop again because the toddler is now kicking the boy on the couch with both feet, and with all his might. I pick him up and carry him, crying and begging, up to his bed. As I come back down the stairs, having been gone for, maybe 15 seconds, the boy on the couch is now crying and holding his stomach. Apparently in that 15 seconds, the teenage boy has "played too rough" and has punched him and knocked the wind out of him.

Seriously?

So, then sweetness goes out the window. I am sick and tired of teenage boy thinking that his bad attitude can control this family. He has his hand out way too often to be given that kind of power, and I won't stand for it. So, now he has his head down. Way down. But I don't think he is ashamed, as much as he is ticked off and cursing me in his mind. Fine, let him.

I sit down. I want to cry. I want to run from the room and curl up in my bed. Throw it all out the window. The tension is thick. I wonder in my mind, "What is the point? We should just do this another night."

But no. We are supposed to have this lesson, darn it.

I take a deep breath, and I look at their faces. I start to cry, but only a little. I tell them how much I love them, and how important this is, and how just that afternoon I had been on my knees asking Heavenly Father what I should teach them, and I just knew this is what He wanted. They each read a scripture. I read the quote to them, and tell them that if we are unhappy with how we are feeling spiritually, then we need to examine the way that we are treating one another (myself included, of course). I tell them that Heavenly Father wanted us to play a game this week, and are they willing?

Yes. I told them the game. I even told them that if they thought I wasn't being serious, that they should ask Heavenly Father themselves and receive their own confirmation that this is what our family should be doing this week. I bore my testimony to them. The Spirit in the room changed. Even teenage boy looked up through his hair at me.

I gave them each a baggie with 50 pennies in it. I told them that for each act of service they did for a member of our family, they could put a penny inside the jar. But no mention of the acts of service can be made. The person who gets rid of the most pennies, who loses himself in the service of others most frequently throughout the week, is the "Biggest Loser" and will win a prize.

Immediately after closing song, prayer, and refreshments, I went to Teenage Boy and put my arm around him as he sat at the table. I apologized to him and told him, with a kiss on the cheek, how much I love him. Then I went upstairs to wash my face. Teenage boy came and met me in the bathroom. Towering above me as he does now, he put his arm around me and said, "I love you, Mom." What a moment! And then? He started looking around for acts of service. He saw the flashlight next to my bed and replaced the batteries for me. He hung out in my room after the others had gone to bed, and told me about his friends, and school.

This morning there are already several pennies in the jar. Scripture study went much more smoothly this morning. We talked about the steps that Nephi followed to receive his own personal revelation. The kids were helping each other, passing out red pencils, and opening up Book of Mormons.

Family Home Evening works. It won't work once. It won't work now and then. But consistently, patiently, over the weeks and months and years, it will work.

And it better, because it's killing me.

BOO! Bags

Years ago, when I lived in Arizona, there was a fun little sneaky tradition of Boo-ing your friends and neighbors at Halloweentime. That meant that you would leave a plate of cookies with a ghost sign on their front porch, and ding dong ditch them. That family would, in turn, hang the ghost in their window to fend off future Boo-ings, and they would pass the Boo on to two other families within 24 hours. It was so much fun to see the ghost signs popping up in windows all around the neighborhood as friends performed secret acts of kindness for one another. Really, the only unselfish thing going on at Halloweentime, if you ask me.

I saw on Lark and Lola a jazzed-up version of the Boo idea, and knew we just had to do it this year. Now Heather, of Lark and Lola is infinitely more creative and talented than I am, so instead of the handmade Boo! garland she included in her bags, I used the scrumptiously delicious Pumpkin Spice Caramel Corn and Chocolate Caramel Corn recipes from another favorite blog (I badly need to update my blogroll!), Picky Palate. Let me just tell you up front: If you're trying to decide how you'd best like to die, make yourself a batch of Pumpkin Spice Caramel Corn and get all cozy and then eat yourself to death. It will be well worth it.

Anyway.

So, the kids and I baked double batches of each caramel corn--plenty of jobs for all the kids to be helpers, from popping the popcorn, to picking out every unpopped kernal, to unwrapping the Pumpkin Spice Hershey Kisses.

Once it was cooling, we printed off Lark and Lola's Boo! poem (which she wrote herself), but she also included a link to other versions of Boo! poems. She even gives you a link to download her spooky Halloween font. She thinks of everything.

We glued the poems to the front of the bags.

Then we put some of each flavor caramel corn into clear bags and tied with Halloween ribbon, and put them into the black bags with purple tissue paper.

The last part was the most fun, and though it was a bit tricky to keep the Teenage Boy's attention through the entire process of creating the bags, it was not tricky to get him excited about delivering the bags in the cover of darkness and ding-dong-ditching our friends.

So much fun! We picked families that we thought would most appreciate the gift, and would be most likely to pass it on in the spirit of the fun. Families with little kids are a great choice. We took about an hour, once it was dark on Sunday night, and made our secret deliveries. No one was caught. (That we know of.) And we hope we made some families very happy, with plenty of time to Boo! their own friends.

Lombardi Ranch

On Saturday I took the kids to Lombardi Ranch for their not-to-be-beaten pumpkin patch. We'd gone several years ago, and just days later they had a fire and lost most everything. Thankfully, it's almost fully recovered and there are few signs of the damage. Everything was growing and flourishing, and so beautiful. Acres of corn stalks, sunflowers, and many, many more pumpkins still on the vine. It's the best place to take the family for pumpkins in the Los Angeles area, and boasts a petting zoo, train ride, corn maze, scarecrow competition, pony rides, craft booths, a farmer's market, and a live band.


This is Lyndsay, trying to get the horse's head out of his food trough so that Conor could pet him. She was ultimately successful by reaching in and grabbing the hay, so the kids could feed him through the bars.

Here's Conor with a donkey, and some droopy drawers. (But at least they're not poopy drawers!)

My four scarecrows. Well, I don't know what that creature is on the right.

Aiden encourages Conor to climb to the top of the bale pyramid.




Again, Lyndsay has a way with animals. They've always loved her. This mama cow (her calf was in the pen with her) would not take her head out of her food so that we could pet her. But then Lyndsay climbs up on the fence and the cow just loved on her for several minutes, rubbing her head all along Lyndsay's legs. I suppose she's the Cow Whisperer. After enduring all the love, I realized I had a (soundless) video feature on my camera, so I had her climb back up to see if the cow still loved her. She did.




A peacock! This was important for Conor to see in real life because his favorite insult is to call people "Peacock Poopyhead", don't ask me why.

This sweet llama, again came over to love Lyndsay. She was startled by how close she was when she turned around.
"He's got a pony named Bob. . ."

After dropping and throwing several pumpkins (and thankfully not breaking them--did you know that pumpkins bounce?) Conor finally decided on his favorite.

Lyndsay and Dylan had a much harder time choosing just the right one.

For a drive-home snack, we bought gigantic peaches from the farmer's market.

And then we brought our load of pumpkins home and set them on the front porch. On Saturday morning, we shall carve them.

To the Fifth Power

Tagged for a meme! (Thanks, Luisa!) Here goes. . .

Five North American Cities in Which I'd Seriously Consider Living:

1. Seattle, Washington
2. Anchorage, Alaska
3. Denver, Colorado
4. Portland, Oregon
5. Moorestown, New Jersey

Five Songs to Which I Know all the Words:

1. "We Didn't Start the Fire" by Billy Joel
2. "Thank God I'm a Country Boy" by John Denver
3. "The Fox" by Nickel Creek
4. "Popular" from the Wicked soundtrack
5. "Kodachrome" by Simon and Garfunkle

Five Foods I'd Wish to Have in Unlimited Quantities on a Desert Island:

1. Bread
2. Butter
3. Honey
4. Chocolate
5. Ice Cream (can you tell I have a bit of a sweet tooth?)

Five Chores I Should Be Doing Right Now Instead of Blogging:

1. Studying the articulations of the skeletal system for my exam tomorrow
2. Cutting out and sewing Conor's pirate costume for Halloween
3. Cleaning out the refrigerator
4. Making a grocery list
5. Mopping the kitchen floor

Five Childhood Friends I'd Love to See Again:

1. Lisa Dovi
2. Marnie Fisher
3. Kristin Hanna
4. Allyson Masi
5. Brent Hoppe

Now, five friends to tag (but please play even if you aren't tagged, and then let me know!):

1. Ohana Dreams
2. Angela
3. Mom
4. Josi
5. Tara

Desires of my Heart

The season of gift-giving is fast approaching. I usually ask my children what special gifts they might be hoping for, but more often, I rely on my knowledge of them and my vantage point as their mother to give them what I know their heart longs for. It may be something that they didn't even know they wanted, and yet, when the brightly colored paper gives way, it's as if secret desires have come to fruition, and there is a look of joy, a look of, "How did you know when I wasn't sure myself?" cross over their faces that is most satisfying. It was a longing so deeply embedded within their hearts, that they hadn't even yet found the words to express it. One can have access to that knowledge through careful and thorough love, day by day. And though I only occasionally get it right, that's the kind of gift-giving that I want to do.

I believe in blessings. I believe in the laying on of hands and administering by the power of the priesthood, personal blessings designed specifically for the recipient, from God.

On two distinct occasions, while receiving a blessing, once at the hands of my father, and once by my husband, I was promised that God was aware of the secret desires of my heart, and that I could be assured that I would be given them. The first time I heard that phrase, "You shall have the desires of your heart", I was a little intrigued by what they were. I went through the list of things I pray for in my mind and thought of each one, 'was that it?'

What is the secret desire of my heart? What if there is only one, a crowning desire?

I can think of several things I long for and hope for, both now and in the future. But maybe each of those things would be likened to the gifts that my children would tell me that they wanted for Christmas. Maybe the real blessing, the most earnest desire is still germinating inside the tissues of my spiritual heart, and only a wise and all-knowing, all-loving God can see them taking root. What a comfort it is to know that he has taken notice, even before I have.

I have desires for my family, desires as a mother, desires as a human being, and desires that spill over from this life into eternity. I often wonder just which desire was Heavenly Father assuring me of?

But just as my children open their gifts and instantly recognize the wisdom and synchronicity of their gifts, given by an imperfect and faltering parent, I trust that I, too, will recognize the desires of my heart, as they are realized in my life. Saying to God, the supreme parent, (maybe with a little gasp of awareness) "Oh, thank you! It's what I've always wanted."

I wait to see, already grateful.

Speaking of Happiness. . .

On Saturday morning, nice and early (well, maybe not nice and early, but definitely early), I got to go to the Los Angeles Temple. I don't attend the temple nearly as often as I used to, or as often as I should. I have all sorts of good excuses, but not good enough excuses, if you know what I mean. Temple attendance had been on my mind for quite some time. I even scheduled a day in August to go by myself, but then I was sick. When my issue of the Ensign arrived, I was flipping through and reading an article about the blessings of the temple, and thinking to myself how I really needed to go, when my friend, Jenn, called, and in the course of our conversation about how she had taped the Nie episode of Oprah for me, she mentioned that she was going to the temple on Saturday morning and would I like to go?

Yes! I said. And then, ummmm, maybe. And then, I'll see if I can. Because already I was being bombarded by those doubts and excuses that attempt to keep me from doing the right thing, including that one about how tired I am and how Saturday is my only day to sleep in. But the more powerful urge to go, that feeling of, "You've asked me to help you find a way, and now I've just given you the way!" wouldn't leave me. And I knew it to be true. So, I called Jenn back the next day and said, "Count me in."

It was incredible. The temple always makes me so happy, and I had a great experience there that left me elated and peaceful for the rest of the day. I must go back more often for more.


Then, last night, I got to drive out to Los Angeles and visit with my dear Piper for a few hours in her hotel room, where she was just spending the night before flying back to Oklahoma in the morning. She had just experienced a whirlwind dream trip to meet Tony Hawk with her 10 year old son, Jackson. Maybe you remember how much I adore Piper? Maybe you remember how she flew out to Arizona last year to meet me and joined my family reunion? Well, I hadn't seen her since, and in that time since I'd last seen her, life has become very eventful for her. Miss Piper is about to become a Mrs.! She has met an incredibly wonderful man who cherishes her above all else and who has given her a ring that is absolutely exquisite! I got to hug her and see that ring, and hear the most romantic tale of their meeting and courtship, and talk wedding details, and laugh and cry. All in three short hours in her hotel room. Such a blessing. I needed a dose of Piper.

And today? Well, today I am learning 10,000 new vocabulary words associated with the appendicular skeleton, and trying not to forget the 10,000 vocabulary words I learned last week associated with the axial skeleton. And I remember, when I see the date, that today would have been my 18th wedding anniversary with my first husband, the father of my oldest three children. Eighteen years. We were married at 10:12am, on 10/12. I remember the feelings of that day so well, and now I've doubled in age since then. We've been divorced for seven years, and life has changed so much for both of us. I don't even know if he will remember the significance of this day, but I still feel the need to be thoughtful about him, and about our nearly eleven years of marriage, and the three children that were a product of that union on this day. And now that the pain has passed, and the wounds have healed, and forgiveness has been given, I can feel happiness even about the good times we shared and the lessons we both undoubtedly learned during that former life. The evidence of it, meaning those three kids, is pretty darn amazing, and makes me happy every single day.

And happy is good.

The Happiness List

This is me, age 16. Joyfully happy.

I spent two days this week in a complete funk. Wanting (but not getting) to do nothing but sleep and just be left alone. (and maybe eat a lot of ice cream, which I didn't.) There are days like that, days that seem as oppressive as the smog over the city in the early morning. I don't always feel like this, so I know I'm capable of feeling happy, vibrant, light, and optimistic. But lately, life seems to take a lot of energy, and I struggle with summoning up the needed energy.

"Snap out of it," I tell myself. That rarely works.

"Be the change you wish to see in the world," I try to inspire myself. Maybe tomorrow.

"Do happy, and then you'll be happy," I remind myself. But I'm too tired to act my way to motivation.

It's easy to see everything that you wish could be different, or better. It's much harder to focus on blessings.

But then I began to conjure up images in my mind of how I want my children to think of me. Of course, before I ever had children, I had a very clear image of the kind of mother I would be. The one up before dawn, baking and setting a lovely breakfast table, fully dressed and groomed. The one cheerful and smiling, whose sparkling home was always graced with soft music, and who always had a freshly baked treat coming out of the oven. The kind of mom who walks the children to school and awaits them in the afternoon to walk home. The mom who, long after the delicious dinner has been cleaned up, and bedtime stories have been read, stays up just to talk to each child in his bed and hear about his day. And then we pray together.

Well, that was my goal. (Stop laughing. It was your goal too, and you know it.)

I have bits and pieces of that dream that actually made it to reality, and for those, I am proud. And the thing is, I realize that the closer I live to my dream, the happier I am. I feel like I am living my life with purpose, and enjoying the sacred calling of motherhood. Feeling blessed, and being buoyed by the gratitude inside of me. It's usually when I start living far beneath my dreams that I begin to feel that wallowing feeling. It sometimes starts to edge its way in when I'm living too much for me, and not for my family. I remind myself that I need to be present.

I had courage this week. After two difficult days, I decided to muster up my courage to take back my happiness. I put my school books away, and took Conor to the park. We bought popsicles, just because. We read stories, and while he napped, I baked cookies for the kids and their friends that would pour through the door. I had music playing in the background, and I smiled. At night, after Conor had been put to bed, and all I really wanted to do was go veg in my room and watch a movie until I crashed, I instead went downstairs and just sat on the couch where my two teens were still reading and studying. Because I was there, we talked. And it was nice.

The next day I realized how happy I felt, just for doing those small things that engaged me with the people I love. For me, my actions definitely affect my happiness, and being busy in pursuit of happiness keeps my mind wandering to all the needs that press on my soul and bring me down. I decided to make a list. My "Things That Make Me Happy" list. The list couldn't contain anything that was materialistic, because that kind of happy is fleeting and deceptive. Instead it was things I could do that make me happy.

First things first, like 'read my scriptures', or 'spend time in prayer', because I find it's always easier to feel happy when I feel close to the Spirit. But then also, things that nourish the essence of who I am, like 'sing the Moulin Rouge soundtrack loudly in the kitchen', and 'laugh with a friend on the phone', and 'bake cookies with Lyndsay', and 'play a boardgame with Aiden', and 'plant flowers', and 'go for a walk', and 'save some money somewhere', and 'do something for someone'. I'm going to hang my list on my bathroom mirror, so that I see it every day. I can choose daily to do things from the list to maintain and increase my happiness.

What I really want my children to think of me is that I am a happy mom, a cheerful mom, a fun-loving mom, an optimistic mom who joyfully makes the most of life. All the rest--the games, the songs, the stories, the cookies, the talks--is just the icing on top of all the happiness. And since happiness, like a funk, is contagious, I'd rather be passing along joyful germs. They can't help, I've discovered, but be infected.

Mothers are so powerful.