tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38918735449091849422024-03-06T00:35:17.269-08:00The GreenHouseKerrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00576698293179840264noreply@blogger.comBlogger765125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3891873544909184942.post-79544902411468357312016-06-19T14:49:00.000-07:002016-06-19T14:49:04.035-07:00I Talked in ChurchI talked today.<br />
<br />
It's Father's Day.<br />
<br />
They asked me to talk about faith instead of about fathers.<br />
<br />
I did it.<br />
<br />
Here's the written talk. It's not the same talk I ended up giving, of course. I added stuff about Brentie, and I added stuff about the cynicism in the world and our love of being critical and how much humility it takes to be faithful.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">19 June 2016 (Father’s Day)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Happy Father’s Day! I am beyond grateful to the men in my
life for their hard work, for their senses of humor, for their service to me
and others. I was totally fine with giving a Father’s Day talk today BUT,
Brother Gardner told me that I didn’t get to talk about fathers today. I hope
all of you fathers receive all the love and adoration you deserve, and I happen
to know in a little while you’ll get a treat, so there’s that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Instead, Kyle asked me to talk about faith. This made me
laugh, because Heavenly Father and/or the bishop have a good sense of humor, as
they both know that faith is a topic that has been heavy in my heart and mind
for many, many months. And yet, somehow, they are trusting me to stand here and
share my heart and my thoughts with you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So. Faith. I have faith in lots of different things. I have
faith that if I keep eating cookies and not running enough, I’m going to need
to keep buying bigger clothes. I have faith that if I binge on Netflix shows,
my house won’t be very clean and my kids won’t do their practicing. There are
all kinds of things that I believe and have faith in. I have a feeling that
Bishop Waite was thinking I should talk about a different kind of faith. The
kind of faith I’m going to refer to when I say “faith” today is faith that
there is a loving God who is aware of us and part of our lives, that this
loving God gave us a savior in Jesus Christ, that if we accept Him as our
Savior, we will be given grace, that Christ’s gospel was restored through
Joseph Smith and that the gospel is led by a prophet today. This is the faith that
I’m discussing today.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Brothers and sisters, we live in a complicated world. Faith
is not always easy to obtain or maintain. Some of us have been given faith as
the gift of the spirit and have never doubted. Some of us came to faith later
in our lives. Others of us have had faith remain mostly constant throughout our
lives with a few times of struggle to maintain it. Some of us have felt our
previously strong faith yanked away through circumstances within our lives or
through times of questioning. And some of us have never yet found a strong
faith and are here because of expectations of our parents or because of culture
or habit or because of a desire to believe that has not yet been fulfilled. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I want to start with a story. Once there were these young men
who were raised by parents who were strong in their faith. These boys didn’t
buy the faith of their parents. They not only didn’t buy it, but they didn’t
want anyone else to buy it, either, so they made lots of efforts to persuade
other people not to believe. These were young men from prominent families, so
their efforts did a lot of damage to the faith of others.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And then their hearts were changed. They were changed so
profoundly that their previous desire to do damage to the faith of their
parents became a desire to bring people to the God they now believed in. Some
of them were children of a king, and one would have become the next king. But
instead, these sons of a king decided that they wanted to change the world.
They wanted to go to their sworn enemies and try to teach them about God, his
love for his children, and about his expectations of us. You know who I’m
talking about: the sons of Mosiah.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So here they are, these young men and their friends. They
have given up the rule of a kingdom. They have given up their former beliefs.
They have humbled themselves. And they have decided to give up their
comfortable lives and try to help their enemies to find the peace that they
have found.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And this is what we hear about them:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Now these are the circumstances which attended them in their
journeyings, for they had many afflictions; they did suffer much, both in body
and in mind…and also much labor in the spirit.” Alma 17:5<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So pretty much these young men were righteous. And dedicated.
And their desires were good. And yet, their journey was marked with MANY
AFFLICTIONS and MUCH SUFFERINGS in body, mind, and spirit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Lord could have made it easy. He has all power, after
all. But instead, this is what he did:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The sons of Mosiah did their part. They fasted much and
prayed much for the Spirit so they could be instruments in his hands, and then
the Lord did this: He visited them with the Spirit. He said “be comforted” and
they were comforted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Once they were comforted, he didn’t tell them that all would
be easy now. Instead he said, Do the work you asked to do AND be patient in
long suffering and afflictions that you can be good examples, and then I will
make you instruments in my hands.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And what happened?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When the Lord said<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">WORK<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">BE PATIENT IN YOUR AFFLICTIONS<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">and I WILL MAKE YOU INSTRUMENTS IN MY HANDS,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">they took courage and trusted in the Lord, and then they
worked, expecting their work to be both hard great.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Let me tell you some of the highlights of what happened next:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Ammon worked and fought for the safety of King Lamoni’s
servants and sheep, and when given an opportunity, taught King Lamoni, who was
converted with all his household.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">King Lamoni’s father was angry and tried to kill Ammon, but
Ammon trusted God’s word, and said No way will you harm me or your son. His
generosity softened King Lamoni’s father’s heart, and he stewed about what had
happened.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So Ammon’s part of the story went along fairly well. Meanwhile,
Aaron, Muloki, and Ammah didn’t have the same kind of success. They were imprisoned
and treated terribly. They were naked, their skin was worn exceedingly because
of being bound with cords, they were hungry, thirsty and had “all manner of
afflictions.” But they were patient. After their release, they taught and
finally had success. And then they were led to go to King Lamoni’s father and
offered to be his servants.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He said no, but said that he was “troubled about your brother
Ammon’s generosity and greatness of words” and wanted to know what was behind
these actions. They taught him about God. And then this happened. He prayed for
the first time:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“O God, Aaron hath told me that there is a God; and if there
is a God, and if thou art God, wilt thou make thyself known unto me, and I will
give away all my sins to know thee.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This prayer has always hit me as such a profound example of
humility and desire to know God, a simple statement, a truly willing heart, and
this in a man who had no experience with God previously.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As a result of his prayer, his life and the lives of his
people were turned upside down. Most of his people were converted to a new way
of life, a new faith in God. They gave up their culture of war. They buried
their valuable, hand-crafted weapons deep in the earth so they wouldn’t be
tempted to use them again and undo the changing of their hearts, because their
new faith taught them that they should serve their brothers, not commit
violence to them. They changed the name by which they were called to
Anti-Nephi-Lehi.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And then their own brothers were so angry about this change
that they killed thousands of these new believers. The converts knelt and
prayed even while they were being slaughtered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Faith asks much of us. Our personal faith may not end with
death by sword, but it is certain that our peace in faith will be hard-earned.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Maybe there are events in church history that are hard for us
to understand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Maybe we or those we love are LGBTQ and we struggle to
understand the church’s position.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Maybe we lived life like the gospel teaches and our children
still made bad choices or our marriage still disintegrated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Maybe we are struggling with physical or mental illness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Maybe someone’s actions have hurt us so deeply that we can’t
see our way clear of the results of another’s choices.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">How do we keep going? Why do we keep going? Why work for
faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and faith that the Church of Jesus Christ of
Latter-Day Saints is His church? And are our doubts and questions a sign that
all is not well in Zion, or all is not well in us?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Elder Uchtdorf said, “Brothers and sisters, as good as our
previous experience may be, if we stop asking questions, stop thinking, stop
pondering, we can thwart the revelations of the Spirit. Remember, it was the
questions young Joseph asked that opened the door for the restoration of all
things. We can block the growth and knowledge our Heavenly Father intends for
us. How often has the Holy Spirit tried to tell us something we needed to know
but couldn’t get past the massive iron gate of what we thought we already
knew?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So questions are not only ok, they are good. We are supposed
to question and Heavenly Father knows it’s likely we will have doubts. What are
we supposed to do with them? And what does God promise us if we try to handle
them faithfully?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Ezra Taft Benson said “…men and women of God who turn their
lives over to God will find out that He can make a lot more out of their lives
than they can. He will deepen their joys, lift their spirits, multiply their
blessings, increase their opportunities, comfort their souls, raise up friends,
and pour out peace. Whoever will lose his life to God will find he has eternal
life.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And we are not left without instructions in how to increase
our faith, how to hold on when our world is rocked by doubt and hardship.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">After Ammon and his brothers and friends had saved the lives
of these people they loved so dearly by bringing them to their own land, after
their former enemies gave up lands for them and promised to risk their lives to
protect them from the Lamanites that were not giving up on hurting them, Ammon
reminded his brothers about how they chose to keep going:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Alma 26:27 Now when our hearts were depressed, and we were
about to turn back, behold the Lord comforted us, and said: Go amongst thy
brethren, the Lamanites, and bear with patience thine afflictions, and I will
give unto you success.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So how do we bear with patience our afflictions? Again, we
can learn from the sons of Mosiah. These are the steps they took to strengthen
themselves:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Alma 17:2-4<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-top: 12.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">1.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They searched the scriptures
diligently<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-top: 12.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">2.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They WANTED to know the word of God<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-top: 12.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">3.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They prayed much.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-top: 12.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">4.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They fasted much.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And as a result, they received<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-top: 12.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">1.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A sound understanding<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-top: 12.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">2.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The spirit of prophecy and revelation<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-top: 12.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">3.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">An ability to teach with the power
and authority of God<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Not only that, but they received great joy. Ammon says
“Behold, my joy is full, yea, my heart is brim with joy, and I will rejoice in
my God…I will boast of my God, for in his strength I can do all things; yea
behold, many mighty miracles we have wrought in this land, for which we will
praise his name forever…Yea, we have reason to praise him forever.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Christ said in John 16:33: “These things I have spoken unto
you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation:
but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So our promises are joy and peace and a relationship with a
Father and his Son who love us perfectly, who want to guide our steps through
the dark and dreary mess we find ourselves in periodically. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When I do the work necessary for my faith to grow, there is
one theme that the Spirit reminds me of: “Be still, and know that I am God.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The world is tumultuous. There are many voices screaming for
our attention, asking us to follow them. When I take the time to BE STILL, when
I study God’s word in the scriptures or our current leaders, when I cultivate
my relationship with God through prayer, when I open up my heart to love those
around me and serve where I can, I feel that restful, calm assurance that God
is here, that he asks me to be still in this world, and that he wants me to
live an abundant life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My challenge to myself and to each of you is to ask Heavenly
Father for faith in whatever it is you would like to improve in. Maybe you just
need to know that God is there. Maybe you just need to know that He loves you.
Maybe you need to know whether or not the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day
Saints is led by a prophet. In any of your places of doubt, God can meet you
there. Read Alma 32 again and again and try the experiment. Remember the sons
of Mosiah: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Alma 26:27 Now when our hearts were depressed, and we were
about to turn back, behold the Lord comforted us, and said: Go amongst thy
brethren, the Lamanites, and bear with patience thine afflictions, and I will
give unto you success.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And remember, we can, even in the middle of so much that is
hard and confusing and dark, find light and truth. Christ asks us to be of good
cheer. And we can be, because He has overcome the world. I have faith in this
promise, and that our Heavenly Father will lead us and guide us if we allow him
to be part of our journey.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Kerrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00576698293179840264noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3891873544909184942.post-43741006714901337482015-12-09T10:20:00.002-08:002015-12-09T10:20:38.484-08:00Dipping my toeHello.<br />
<br />
It's me.<br />
<br />
I've been wondering if after all this time you'd like to read.<br />
<br />
I'd go over everything, but I think that would take way more time than I have today, so instead I'll just send out a little hey to my quiet little blog.<br />
<br />
Here are the things on my mind:<br />
<br />
Parenting teens<br />
Our nation's struggle to open our doors to those who need us. Why is this an issue? I'm very confused. They need a safe place to build a life. Why can't we offer it? <br />
Fat pants<br />
Should I eat that gingersnap dipped in white chocolate left over from the party last night?<br />
The church's latest policy on children of gay couples<br />
Why aren't we having any snow? Is it global warming? The universe telling me I should not buy my kids snowboots because last year they didn't need them either?<br />
Hamilton<br />
Why I can't go see Hamilton (sold out for forever. And also in NYC, not SLC.)<br />
The chances that I will figure out how to get my kids skiing this year<br />
Amblyopia<br />
Teaching<br />
Should I take a nap?<br />
<br />
The answer to that last question is yes.Kerrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00576698293179840264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3891873544909184942.post-25878578384936869042015-04-10T09:39:00.003-07:002015-04-10T09:39:57.173-07:00I apparently need a little public venting spaceI just want to express my disappointment with being 43.<br />
<br />
I want to express my disappointment that unless I eat quite a bit less than 1200 calories a day, I gain weight.<br />
<br />
I want to express my disappointment that while I understand intellectually that at 43, I am not supposed to look like a 21 year old, I live in a place where most of the women do. Is it right that most of the moms here wear clothes that are smaller than a size 6? I guess it is right, since that is how it is, but why do they all have to be so cute and well-dressed and teeny? (What is worse is that I adore them and love them and think they are super fun. And they are also super teeny. And super awesome. And super teeny.)<br />
<br />
I want to express my disappointment in myself that even though I read wonderful, life affirming things about self acceptance and loving ourselves where we are and not comparing ourselves to others, and even though I try to write in my gratitude journal as many times a week as I remember to sit down and do it, I still hate that I am too chubby for all of my clothes except for my fat pants: the "skinny" jeans that I have worn so often that the thighs are threadbare and about to burst. And even the fat pants are getting a little snug.<br />
<br />
I want to express my disappointment that I feel like mourning the lack of food in my life when I am trying to be good and that I feel so much self loathing when I give in to cravings.<br />
<br />
I want to express my disappointment that I am 43 and STILL HAVING ISSUES WITH ALL OF THIS GARBAGE. Because obviously I am too old for it. And should be too wise for it. But am somehow not.<br />
<br />
Are these my two options now? <br />
<br />
Number one: accepting my pleasantly plump self and enjoying food and buying clothes in bigger sizes? <br />
<br />
Or number two: accepting that any foods besides vegetables, (limited (!)) fruits (WHY DO FRUITS EVEN HAVE TO BE LIMITED!!!!!????? AGE, you SUCK!), and lean proteins and I will never be truly good friends again so that I can regain my wardrobe? Because these fat pants are on their last legs (literally) and my drawer is full of pants that say "You were just wearing me last spring. Stop eating cookies." <br />
<br />
I hate that this is on my mind all the time. I would like to solve world hunger issues or write my pretty little picture posts or read a good book (but then I would have to admit to my dilemma about how guilty I feel when I read a book now. Because of wasting time. Sigh.) There is much room in my head apparently for healthier thoughts. (Maybe I should sleep more so I can be more happy. Except that's another problem: I know I should sleep more, but I never, ever, ever, ever do.)<br />
<br />
The only thing that makes me feel the littlest bit better is that I'm pretty sure I'm not alone in my frustrations. If anyone has really figured out how to live life happily and peacefully and be able to get rid of these judging voices in your head, pass on your wisdom. I could use it. Because I really don't know if the right thing is to learn self control or to choose acceptance. Shouldn't I be more in control? But shouldn't it be ok to eat a peanut butter sandwich on wheat bread? <br />
<br />
(Plus a cookie?)Kerrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00576698293179840264noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3891873544909184942.post-5114986394042005662015-02-07T08:34:00.002-08:002015-02-07T08:34:32.737-08:001-17-2015 (One of those braggy posts. I apologize in advance)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3yXf6TEu5oYUhppJHfj2wW425S_ChvtA8vT60KIpkZ947MxHb-yAmuUKlv4_fP3fNdcBZygqphb6COPcyCRQgB4kvqQ6Sgbuj_WJ1hwSjyWwJa7Zd4ScwMheXp74P8TrFHUr6t-97KNE/s1600/IMG_5040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3yXf6TEu5oYUhppJHfj2wW425S_ChvtA8vT60KIpkZ947MxHb-yAmuUKlv4_fP3fNdcBZygqphb6COPcyCRQgB4kvqQ6Sgbuj_WJ1hwSjyWwJa7Zd4ScwMheXp74P8TrFHUr6t-97KNE/s1600/IMG_5040.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
My kids chose to go to the opera on a Saturday night. With each other. And had interesting things to say about it afterwards. (And looked SO CUTE.) (Sorry. I got carried away.)<br />
<br />
Kerrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00576698293179840264noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3891873544909184942.post-88692418478649179522015-02-04T20:45:00.001-08:002015-02-04T20:45:56.841-08:001-16-2015 (Tiger! Tiger!)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQMmof3Ds_YUYABr0CiLwtW0nUrDP_CgSMHH8btsceybhVovrLqITBxBXhUqvFEkZ4su7e70cwRay7w-Dg9niM7dn_E2FS2LN4CtqFTl1q5mm7eeD0JKFu82xKRLeoQg62W79Wn_QuQUc/s1600/IMG_5024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQMmof3Ds_YUYABr0CiLwtW0nUrDP_CgSMHH8btsceybhVovrLqITBxBXhUqvFEkZ4su7e70cwRay7w-Dg9niM7dn_E2FS2LN4CtqFTl1q5mm7eeD0JKFu82xKRLeoQg62W79Wn_QuQUc/s1600/IMG_5024.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
Benno went to a really awesome circus party for a good friend from school and came back as a really awesome tiger, who hung out with us for the next 24 hours. <br />
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<br />Kerrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00576698293179840264noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3891873544909184942.post-40685872747543064232015-02-04T20:37:00.001-08:002015-02-04T20:37:04.936-08:001-15-2015 (My husband is happy)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeHDAVViC1EtR6vIUOsOLCiPqCByreNBoE4Cy13GQH8Qxtb5jtnY0uhN4c_0_5rfZVBVSUfgOiNU-txvU_L1Qg_MrfMOHN0wuZmg-r8rF6J33eF_4elgC9wIpTLoZtAYbTfPD_jz8ayos/s1600/IMG_5016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeHDAVViC1EtR6vIUOsOLCiPqCByreNBoE4Cy13GQH8Qxtb5jtnY0uhN4c_0_5rfZVBVSUfgOiNU-txvU_L1Qg_MrfMOHN0wuZmg-r8rF6J33eF_4elgC9wIpTLoZtAYbTfPD_jz8ayos/s1600/IMG_5016.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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I got my car washed. </div>
Kerrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00576698293179840264noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3891873544909184942.post-80864432885645257412015-02-03T13:05:00.004-08:002015-02-03T13:08:25.076-08:001-14-2015 (Black and white = happy)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinPvh4R-0gu_-5rcaTBFprKRGW8g8cVW60ZJyjmN-p1J_xAzNa54aQyIafGhKY_4CnutGkqL5OcYWM8EWxgFNN74FjKF4R5NeTdC3_PmawVtNn7NpFdH5xFEqkS_N28ph3IkhUKgqrVds/s1600/IMG_5015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinPvh4R-0gu_-5rcaTBFprKRGW8g8cVW60ZJyjmN-p1J_xAzNa54aQyIafGhKY_4CnutGkqL5OcYWM8EWxgFNN74FjKF4R5NeTdC3_PmawVtNn7NpFdH5xFEqkS_N28ph3IkhUKgqrVds/s1600/IMG_5015.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I made a New Year's deal with my students. If I don't meet my practice goal every week, I pay anyone who beat my actual practice time $5 cold, hard cash.<br />
<br />
It's so amazing how much motivation that gives me.<br />
<br />
And so sad that it takes motivation to get me to the keyboard.<br />
<br />
Because once I'm there, it's just SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO awesome.<br />
<br />
I'm working on two Liszt transcriptions of Schubert songs, Beethoven, Ravel, Rachmaninoff, and Bach. And that's all. Except technique, improv, and sightreading.<br />
<br />
Yes, I need to narrow it down, but it's all so dang fun. So maybe I'll just keep practicing too many pieces and enjoy myself every minute.Kerrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00576698293179840264noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3891873544909184942.post-11579647890230518412015-02-03T13:00:00.002-08:002015-02-03T13:08:34.845-08:001-12-2015 (Don't look at this, Sophie)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIKGDcHrUth-YKPOEI9QRNPrsHcmsch468KbmDZMWc50HzMZTaM-UE-prneQUH8AhAGUcVzs2FuOZZmFSa-33glvTL5IxQSYRE00iagiBeSaJsxnGigGx0wURByQtKOA8n4ifj6qHdnAE/s1600/IMG_5001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIKGDcHrUth-YKPOEI9QRNPrsHcmsch468KbmDZMWc50HzMZTaM-UE-prneQUH8AhAGUcVzs2FuOZZmFSa-33glvTL5IxQSYRE00iagiBeSaJsxnGigGx0wURByQtKOA8n4ifj6qHdnAE/s1600/IMG_5001.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
My teenage daughter loves me dearly but does not love me posting pictures of her without her prior permission. She is not likely to give permission for this one, but it warms my Mama heart. Seriously. Is anything cuter than my girls harmonizing during Family Night? The answer is baby pandas. But other than that (and, well, puppies,) Sophie and Kate and a guitar get my vote.<br />
<br />
If I was REALLY brave (and stupid,) I would post a video of them singing. Because that beats pandas, puppies, otters, AND kittens. But I value my life, so you will have to just imagine.Kerrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00576698293179840264noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3891873544909184942.post-35724747534966121432015-02-03T12:53:00.000-08:002015-02-03T13:08:45.754-08:001-10-2015 (Goodbye, Christmas)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijZNokue7I15zLlXp56numDnIIEXCcuy_QD6Bimn3npWr6WwR1dCbA9Fpn0BkzSzkRNeAz6JWZUKZUV939kf61M1hyUl7W2mGcGWaEkispXvofR2RlMGB41qcsMnDUszE3ZRQtLdax6dg/s1600/IMG_4995.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijZNokue7I15zLlXp56numDnIIEXCcuy_QD6Bimn3npWr6WwR1dCbA9Fpn0BkzSzkRNeAz6JWZUKZUV939kf61M1hyUl7W2mGcGWaEkispXvofR2RlMGB41qcsMnDUszE3ZRQtLdax6dg/s1600/IMG_4995.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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I'm ashamed to admit that it took some manipulation on my part, but I convinced the family to put away Christmas. I helped. I really did. But I was pretty lame at it. </div>
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I love how David can Tetris together the Christmas boxes in the empty area in our storage room. He has a gift.</div>
<br />Kerrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00576698293179840264noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3891873544909184942.post-28641026800395325252015-02-03T12:47:00.003-08:002015-02-03T13:08:56.759-08:001-9-2015 (Me and my pharmaceuticals)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU2bOAMW1Zhz8Ij4VltcDC88prDbtKkw_Q5h7OOZBQCrkOEytkTy8DNvntbIEXw2gff0JJyeFK1GErzyphyL2yfhhNGiTHxRj9RywlUm267s_-mPeeu-IJpHnksNo4FB4c6nWczFVRjx8/s1600/IMG_4991.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU2bOAMW1Zhz8Ij4VltcDC88prDbtKkw_Q5h7OOZBQCrkOEytkTy8DNvntbIEXw2gff0JJyeFK1GErzyphyL2yfhhNGiTHxRj9RywlUm267s_-mPeeu-IJpHnksNo4FB4c6nWczFVRjx8/s1600/IMG_4991.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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Sigh.</div>
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For a girl who likes to avoid medical intervention whenever possible, this picture is hard to take. But thank goodness for medical intervention being available. I'm now working with stretching exercises that have been recommended to me. All is not fully better, but all is MUCH better. And I'm drug free. Well. Mostly. Ha. Pain pill, steroid, and muscle relaxant free, anyway, and that's good enough.</div>
Kerrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00576698293179840264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3891873544909184942.post-46550934269144988742015-02-03T12:43:00.003-08:002015-02-03T13:09:07.475-08:001-7-2015 (The view from down here)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7rKoH7xsY1AJYwApMH9tQh4FUKqFksgWl_GJlkSTLKrIhdkMUSbpnH5EXRmQ57WZebo8of6zXj_aR60eEkaZzJzn3dlhgP9MriJ_DJy28s2CYMh2wP8S5YD1HzlF-sKO-GMqBWqDBlxE/s1600/IMG_4986.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7rKoH7xsY1AJYwApMH9tQh4FUKqFksgWl_GJlkSTLKrIhdkMUSbpnH5EXRmQ57WZebo8of6zXj_aR60eEkaZzJzn3dlhgP9MriJ_DJy28s2CYMh2wP8S5YD1HzlF-sKO-GMqBWqDBlxE/s1600/IMG_4986.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
And now it gets interesting, folks. (Well, not really. It just gets stupid.)<br />
<br />
My feet are up on pillows on my bed. And why? Because my back has decided it doesn't want to support my spine appropriately. Or something like that. And after I taught my morning piano lessons and drove my kids to school, my sciatica decided to make my life a bit of a living hell. OK. Not a bit of a living hell. A fiery, all-encompassing, demons and pitchforks hell.<br />
<br />
Was that a little dramatic?<br />
<br />
I know. But this was a very bad day. I was so glad no one was home because back pain makes me into a bit of a whiner. OK. Not a bit of a whiner. A screaming, weeping, freaking out, crazy lady who just wants the pain to stop.<br />
<br />
Luckily I found my muscle relaxants left over from the back disaster of October and by late that night, I wasn't screaming anymore, which was a good thing.Kerrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00576698293179840264noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3891873544909184942.post-3863694963014865572015-02-03T12:38:00.002-08:002015-02-03T13:09:19.757-08:001-5-2015 (Because Legos)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpy4joeValYP-Y9XeQkLDlsSiCI5-sw36r6BfcEJUU_fFKcNLEzS-evyaHYIQeLzb5n2G_X8ZgXt_mKxK0X2dVGLh2msaWyA-cNNeTwRDZliWMNrakyQN87zI7dIx7Y-5SKQ4LKqdju8k/s1600/IMG_4984.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpy4joeValYP-Y9XeQkLDlsSiCI5-sw36r6BfcEJUU_fFKcNLEzS-evyaHYIQeLzb5n2G_X8ZgXt_mKxK0X2dVGLh2msaWyA-cNNeTwRDZliWMNrakyQN87zI7dIx7Y-5SKQ4LKqdju8k/s1600/IMG_4984.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
Legos rule.Kerrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00576698293179840264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3891873544909184942.post-20111857410972083282015-02-03T12:35:00.003-08:002015-02-03T13:10:12.607-08:001-4-2015 (Goodbye, Christmas break)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
It was so fun to have Josh at home for three weeks. I thought it was harder to have him go back to school after Christmas break than it was for him to go in the first place. Here, he and Ben are doing another science experiment.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOUaD8G28RlgFEPfjo1_4dZDYePzW_IKEgo1PapHIfCQR0KvI2CVxBlVZe4frB1IOTLYFD9Ba2ilbmOf4mXnahWp_j-8Dm2hycA3VRQhf3ikypPHnJoMbIpK1zXqV5nBH4U0MKg-rI-yQ/s1600/IMG_4978.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOUaD8G28RlgFEPfjo1_4dZDYePzW_IKEgo1PapHIfCQR0KvI2CVxBlVZe4frB1IOTLYFD9Ba2ilbmOf4mXnahWp_j-8Dm2hycA3VRQhf3ikypPHnJoMbIpK1zXqV5nBH4U0MKg-rI-yQ/s1600/IMG_4978.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
And although we all loved Christmas break so very, very much, there definitely were times that all of the unscheduled time together ended up having a slightly negative effect.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN4LYmc9AD05uv3atHQzXl1Ur9ig8fj-smOIautdr23oqeQYzQPqvsvbBNoqpBGdJ8PcvHn5eK6A03eKOtVEANkb2qKkbv9xwdPDCH6zF5B4YgrjLUSJR83ahHf6XK4E0kOpHHoOMNNOM/s1600/IMG_4979.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN4LYmc9AD05uv3atHQzXl1Ur9ig8fj-smOIautdr23oqeQYzQPqvsvbBNoqpBGdJ8PcvHn5eK6A03eKOtVEANkb2qKkbv9xwdPDCH6zF5B4YgrjLUSJR83ahHf6XK4E0kOpHHoOMNNOM/s1600/IMG_4979.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
Kerrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00576698293179840264noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3891873544909184942.post-35715129578655167412015-02-03T12:22:00.001-08:002015-02-03T13:21:23.080-08:00Picture of the Day 1-3-2015 (Oh, yes, this is really happening)So that we are all clear here...<br />
<br />
When I said Picture of the Day, I certainly didn't mean a picture for every day.<br />
<br />
(Yes, I did.)<br />
<br />
And I certainly didn't intend to post more frequently than once a month.<br />
<br />
(Yes, I did.)<br />
<br />
Now that we've got that out of the way...<br />
<br />
January 3, 2015. It was a nice day. As far as I can remember, anyway, now that it is February 3.<br />
<br />
Kate let me trim her hair. This took much persuasion, as everyone in the Greenhouse seems to remember <a href="http://kerrisgreenhouse.blogspot.com/2008/12/im-in-so-much-trouble.html">this occasion.</a> I do not have photographic evidence of the homerun I hit, but suffice it to say that there's a chance she just might let me do it again. She only let me take off a couple of inches. This hair. It's just so mermaid, I can't handle it.<br />
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Later that night, Kate had her friend Sophie over to finish their school geography board game.</div>
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And of course there were cookies. Because why wouldn't there be?<br />
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Kerrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00576698293179840264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3891873544909184942.post-65772742831378611032015-01-03T00:19:00.003-08:002015-02-03T12:49:18.952-08:00Picture of the Day 1-1-2015 (You know you were hoping!)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Today, Ben discovered the Pictures of the Day from 2010, and was beyond thrilled to see himself in picture after picture after picture. One of the side effects of being the youngest child is not seeing yourself in family pictures before your birth, and poor Ben has looked at many, many family videos and scrapbooks without a sign of himself. He loved seeing evidence of his important place in our family, and I loved watching him discover this importance. While looking at the blog posts with him, I decided that those tiny details of life were well worth recording for seven year old Ben and for 43 year old me and for all of us in between. So...I'm starting again.</div>
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It's fitting, then, that I start with a picture starring Ben. He got a book of science experiments for Christmas and has loved doing them. This experiment involved seeing how many heavy books could be supported by four half eggshells (seven). I love his curiosity. And his questions. He asks so so many questions. One of the questions he asks the most is, "Am I asking too many questions?" My answer is always, "There's no such thing as too many questions, Benno."</div>
Kerrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00576698293179840264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3891873544909184942.post-90181102495261096122014-10-28T09:44:00.003-07:002014-10-28T09:46:08.002-07:00Fiery TrialsThere have been some very hard things happening around me. I'm not happy about it. People I adore have suffered losses that seem impossible to bear. I hate being reminded of the fragility of our lives and how in an instant, life shifts to a new, harder normal.<br />
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I found this scripture this week, and it struck me. Somehow I don't think I've ever paid attention to it or maybe even read it before now. I love it. I love its gentle tone and its wisdom and even the tiny bit of humor in it.</div>
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1 Peter 4:12 Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you.</blockquote>
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Come on, isn't this the total truth? If we aren't just laid out on the floor by enormously terrible things, don't we just shake our heads sometimes and say, "Really, life? You're doing THIS? No way. It's just not right." It <i>always</i> feels strange. It almost always feels more fiery than tolerable.</div>
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I am going to send y'all back to my darling friend Megan's blog. I hate that there are so many struggles in her life. But I love that she teaches me constantly. And I think she could tell God that some of her trials are indeed strange. <a href="http://tooursurvival.com/2014/10/things-that-change/">Her latest post </a>reminds me of the things I have learned and am learning, and by golly, NEED TO LEARN STILL. I found this quote recently and it reminded me of that great C.S. Lewis quote about God building a palace out of our little cottage.<br />
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For a seed to achieve its greatest expression, it must come completely undone. The shell cracks, its insides come out and everything changes. To someone who doesn't understand growth, it would look like complete destruction. -Cynthia Occelli</blockquote>
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Even with the reminder that our fiery trials are to be expected, and sometimes necessary for our growth, my heart is still broken. My soul grieves. I don't understand all things. Or many things. But I know that love makes terribleness more bearable. And I know that the times when the world slows down to force us to pay attention to each other in our most distressed circumstances become holy. There are blessings in tragedies, and those blessings are so often the people who love us, and care for us, and hold us up when we can't hold ourselves up.</div>
Kerrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00576698293179840264noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3891873544909184942.post-55607474654933682532014-09-14T18:50:00.000-07:002014-09-14T18:50:28.820-07:00Different in Happy Ways<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I've been considering this oft-quoted paragraph by Spencer W. Kimball for quite a long time now: </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Much of the major growth that is coming to the Church in the last days will come because many of the good women of the world (in whom there is often such an inner sense of spirituality) will be drawn to the Church in large numbers. This will happen to the degree that the women of the Church reflect righteousness and articulateness in their lives and to the degree that the women of the Church are seen as distinct and different—in happy ways—from the women of the world. … Thus it will be that female exemplars of the Church will be a significant force in both the numerical and the spiritual growth of the Church in the last days.</span></blockquote>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Do I consider myself to be different from other women in the world? Well, yes. And also, no. My life is filled with friends I adore who are both women who are LDS and women who are not LDS, religious and not religious. I am different from ALL of these women. but also I am the same as them all in so many ways. </span>No one else manages the same loads I do. No one else has all same tools and talents or the same (lame, ridiculous) weaknesses I do. Despite so many differences, I also recognize our sisterhood, our similarities.<br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Here is how I see the women I know: Some of them juggle life's demands without breaking a sweat. Some are optimistic. Some hold grudges. Some make me belly laugh. Some keep their houses way cleaner than mine. A few maybe don't (but I'm not totally sure about that.) Some think gay marriage is a blessing to many. Some think gay marriage is problematic to our society. </span>Some drink Diet Coke by the bucketful, some are sugar and gluten-free, some enjoy coffee and wine, and some eat a lot of cookies. (Guess which one I am?) <span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Some want the priesthood. Some don't want the priesthood. One has already been ordained a priest. Some don't know what priesthood is, as defined by the LDS church, and really don't care about it one way or the other. Some think I'm weird for being LDS but love me anyway. Some worship in the temple and have long heartfelt discussions about the atonement with me. Some believe in God loosely, some believe in God specifically, and some don't believe in God at all. Some are Christian, some are Muslim, some are Jewish, some claim no religion.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Pretty much I hope you understand that what I'm saying is that I love the women around me. I love our differences and I love our similarities. I love them for their goodness, for their kindness. I love them in their flaws, because of their flaws, and I also love them for their different paths in life and the things I learn from them because of those different paths. I love that we are different and I love that we are similar. I am a little jealous of those who keep their homes clean and those who travel a lot. I'm sad for those who struggle with mental and physical illnesses and for those whose home relationships are hard. I get frustrated about those who are offended easily, but then I forgive them, because, you know, they're probably offended because of something hard in their lives, and hard things in our lives really can mess with our brains. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I have also thought about happiness, and what this quote says about the happiness of women. Do I think that every woman I know needs to be like me to be happy? Heck, no. In fact, a lot of them are happier than I am. Do I think every woman I know needs to be in my church to be happy? Nope. I really don't. And about happiness in general: </span>Sometimes I am very happy. That is a relief to say. I have fought hard to be able to say that. Sometimes I am not happy. Life is super challenging, you know? Like sometimes I want to just throw in the towel and let someone else take the driver's seat. And when I read a quote like the one above, I think, "Dang. If the growth in the church is determined by my happiness, I guess we are out of luck." But after rethinking and rereading, I decided that President Kimball did not say LDS women will always be <i>super unflaggingly</i> <i>happy, no sadness allowed, </i>but that we will be different in happy ways from some in the world.<br />
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Here are some of the ways I feel happy about what I have gained from being a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints:<br />
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1. The doctrine of the sealing power of the temple.<br />
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The doctrine of the LDS church is that families can be sealed together for eternity. Although that is not always an appealing thought when dealing with some of our relationships here, the belief that we will be made whole and perfect in the next life and that we will then enjoy the relationships that were so important to us here is powerful and important. I believe the two things that will go with us into the next life are relationships and knowledge, and I like the idea that we will continue to grow in both.<br />
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2. An unpaid, called ministry.<br />
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I love (and sometimes don't love) that we as members of the LDS church are asked to do lots and lots and lots of different kinds of jobs within the church. Some of these we are well qualified for (right now I play the piano for the choir and teach a monthly lesson in Relief Society, our women's group) and some of these stretch us out of our comfort zones (my brother and brother-in-law are both serving as bishops of their congregations right now. This is a major commitment on their part and the part of their families, and the commitment lasts for at least five years.) We are asked to step up and learn to do new things. Sometimes we fail, and sometimes we get it right. Usually both.<br />
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3. Being asked to adhere to a set of living standards that can seem arbitrary. And hard.<br />
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No coffee or tea or even a little wine? Wearing temple garments and therefore, clothing that covers those? No shopping or restaurants, etc. on Sunday? No sex before marriage, and by no sex, we mean keep your hands <b>off</b>. Paying 10% of our income in tithing? Fasting once a month for 24 hours? Forgoing college and serving a mission for 18-24 months?<br />
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Oh, wait, I am supposed to say how we are different in happy ways.<br />
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Here's the thing! I actually think that for me, even these requirements have taught me happiness. Our Heavenly Father wants us to learn self-control, to learn that when we follow the guidelines he sets for us, we are able to live more freely. Would drinking a cup of coffee damn me eternally and make me a slave to my impulses? Uh, no. But a chance to learn more ability to control myself is a good thing. Now I just need to decide what to do about all those cookies.<br />
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4. Personal and institutional revelation.<br />
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This may just be my favorite thing in my church. I love that we are blessed with the gift of the Holy Ghost when we are confirmed after baptism. I love that we are taught how to listen to this internal voice that guides, directs, and comforts us. I love that from the time we are teeny tiny, we are told that our Heavenly Father has given us this gift to help keep us safe and to guide us. We are taught how to listen to the Holy Spirit. We are told to trust our hearts when we are living according to commandment.<br />
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And then, as companion to our own revelations for our lives, we are blessed with leaders who are given the gift of prophecy and revelation. These are human men, with human flaws, but with godly power. And do I believe this? I actually do. I have had enough experience with personal revelation to trust that others receive it as well.<br />
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Is personal revelation only found in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. No! Of course not. But I love that it is an integral part of our education from infancy on. And my experiences with it have been deep, powerful, and life-changing.<br />
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5. The priesthood.<br />
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This is controversial right now. I understand the pain that this subject has caused many of my sisters in the church. I think I might have a different perspective on this if I wasn't the mother of an 18 year old man, and the wife of a 47 year old man and the sister of many great men and the daughter of another great man. I believe the priesthood has shaped these men from the time they were 12 years old and has helped them to become more than they would be without it. I love to watch them wield the power of the priesthood when they serve in callings, but especially when they lay their hands on the heads of those I love or on my own head to bless with things that are desperately needed. I love the healing power of the priesthood. I love that my father could use the priesthood to bless my 7 year old self when I woke with legs aching with growing pains. I love that my husband gives my children blessings before they go back to school each year full of sacred promises and gifts. These blessings have tied our families together throughout the years.<br />
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I read a fascinating book about raising boys in our society a few years back. The authors discussed what is missing from the adolescence of so many young men to help them grow into good, honorable adult men. Some of the things they describe that I found fascinating were time in nature, a set structure with mileposts to note as they turn from boys to men, older men as mentors on this journey, and an opportunity to feel part of a bigger culture through serving those around them. Watching Josh grow from boy to man, I have been more grateful than I can express for a church culture that emphasizes these things. The men in his life have been remarkable. The Scouting program has given him many opportunities to be outdoors and to test his limits. The opportunities for service have been constant. The responsibilities he gains as he grows in the priesthood are wonderful.<br />
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(Do I want these same things for my daughters? YES. And I think that there is opportunity for growth in the church practice on this, but I also see much good in what they are given through the gospel. Could there be more done? Yes, and that is a subject for another day.)<br />
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6. Ties to a greater community.<br />
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I love that I know people in my neighborhood that I would not have known if we did not worship together. We are different in age, interests, personalities, and backgrounds, but we are pulled together in neighborhoods and communities, not by our choice of a masterful pastor or preacher or a strong youth program, but because we go where we are assigned to go. Sometimes these ward communities are strong in many areas, and sometimes they are weak, but they are our own, and we serve together and grow to love each other.<br />
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When Brent died, I had two visiting teachers (women who are assigned to visit and care for me...it sounds strange, but is such a gift) that I hadn't known long, both of whom are in a different phase of life than I am. They threw their arms around me, packing a gorgeous lunch and care package for our trip to California for the funeral, and showed constant love for me and my family. I have so much tenderness towards these sisters of mine. I wouldn't have known them without my relationship with them as visiting teachers. I love that they came monthly and sat on chairs and asked me how I was doing. I love that they made me delicious treats and that they cared about my children. I love that they showed compassion for me and interest in me. I love that I learned more about being a good visiting teacher and neighbor from them. (I wish I could say I learned enough to have applied these lessons, but I am still a pretty bad visiting teacher. There is time to grow, though, right?)<br />
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I could tell many stories about my faith community and about the people who have loved me and whom I have loved. I am grateful beyond words for my ward families.<br />
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7. Last, but not least, a focus on Jesus Christ<br />
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I know that in years past, there has been discussion in different circles about whether or not Mormons are Christian. I will allow those who wish to fight that battle to continue. It doesn't matter to me at all, because I know I am a Christian. I worship Christ. I accept His atonement and His grace. I know without it, I am nothing. I have felt the enabling power of His atonement. I have seen His grace change me. I expect it to save me. I love the four standard works of the LDS church: the Holy Bible, the Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, and the Pearl of Great Price. Each of these books testifies of Christ throughout and I have learned to love Him and to learn about Him through each of them.<br />
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So often it is easier to pick apart the institutions we are a part of than it is to celebrate the things that they get right. I have this tendency. I see much opportunity for growth and change in the ways that we are falling short as a church, but I also want to recognize the incredible blessing it has been for me to be a Mormon. I am happy in my membership in Christ's church. Does it solve every problem in my life? Do I live a blissfully happy existence? No. But the gospel stretches me, deepens me, changes me, and helps me to be better. And that's good enough for me.Kerrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00576698293179840264noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3891873544909184942.post-65497079265560802692014-04-28T13:36:00.004-07:002014-04-28T13:36:43.280-07:00Hello, again. (Yes, AGAIN.)It is the end of April.<div>
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I have one more month until Josh graduates. (!)</div>
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One of my college piano friends lives in my current ward. On Easter Sunday, Josh, sporting a dashing pink suit, played cello with our ward choir (it helps that the choir director pays him gas money to come to choir) (and by choir director, I of course mean David.) After his performance, my friend and I were talking about Josh and his plans. I said, "I realized recently that I was two months older than Josh is now when I met you for the first time."</div>
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We both just kind of looked at each other, because of course, that isn't really possible.</div>
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And yet it is. When I was two months older than Josh is now, I left my home and traveled up to the wilds of Utah County and the practice rooms of the Harris Fine Arts Center. When I was two months older than Josh is now, I first laid my eyes on the man who would become my husband, and met some of the people who would become my dearest friends in the world. I threw myself into college life, into practicing, into trying to make myself into a person I would like more when I looked at myself in the mirror. It was one of the best years of my life.</div>
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I'm so worried that Josh won't know how to wake up to his alarm clock. And that he will forget to do laundry. Or his homework. Maybe I need to be praying instead that I can let him grow up and have faith that he will figure things out.</div>
Kerrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00576698293179840264noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3891873544909184942.post-88975742782894477792013-10-13T22:28:00.001-07:002013-10-13T22:29:46.655-07:00SeasonsI don't know if it is a side effect from being raised in California, but I cannot go through any season without my heart aching from the transitory beauties of each one.<br />
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The ache is a funny thing: mostly a reaction to sheer beauty, but also a feeling of loss that this particular beauty will last only days, and that I can't quite revel in it enough. I can't quite soak it all in. I can't quite pay it justice by noticing it the way it should be noticed.<br />
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When I was in college, I did a lot of accompanying. I loved it, especially when I got to prepare recitals with soloists. The bread and butter of a college pianist, though, is playing for voice lessons. I learned a lot of repertoire this way (and also heard a lot of bad belting. If you haven't experienced someone learning how to belt, you should thank your lucky stars.) Some of these songs have stayed with me ever since. One in particular was George Butterworth's setting of Loveliest of Trees from A.E. Housman's A Shropshire Lad:<br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Loveliest of trees, the cherry now</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Is hung with bloom along the bough,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">And stands about the woodland ride</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Wearing white for Eastertide.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Now, of my threescore years and ten,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Twenty will not come again,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">And take from seventy springs a score,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">It only leaves me fifty more.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">And since to look at things in bloom</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">To see the cherry hung with snow.</span></div>
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If I take from my seventy springs, I only have twenty-eight more, and frankly, that is just not enough. I don't like thinking that I will only see the blossoms of spring that many more times, or the golden light at dusk on yellow aspens, or the sparkle of marshmallow snow under bright sun.</div>
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I admit, it is a sweet melancholy, a recognition of the gifts that each day can bring me if I just notice. I am feeling a recent shift to accepting the passage of time, which allows me to feel more peaceful about the falling of the leaves, the move into winter. But I think I will try to take Housman's advice tomorrow and the day after and head into my hills to soak in the transitory beauty.</div>
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<br />Kerrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00576698293179840264noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3891873544909184942.post-13980168075886049432013-10-06T21:18:00.002-07:002013-10-06T21:18:32.270-07:00Howdy!So guess what? I didn't make writing one of my challenges four weeks ago. Oh. You already knew that, since I didn't write once in those four weeks? That's pretty funny, right?<br />
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I did miss writing, though. I replaced writing with practicing, as I had a performance on Friday. And guess what funny thing I figured out? I like writing AND I like practicing. And I like performing, too, especially if I don't have to memorize anything. It's a kind of liking that is laced with stomach churning nerves, deep breathing, and forced self-talk of a motivational sort, but a liking nonetheless. We musicians are a strange lot. I think we have a lot in common with base jumpers and lion tamers, except our fear doesn't haven't any actual physical danger to explain it, just the chance of public humiliation.<br />
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In these last four weeks, I also had some epiphanies and life changing moments. They were quite lovely and I will try to remember to share them soon.Kerrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00576698293179840264noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3891873544909184942.post-34069611724835037632013-09-05T12:11:00.002-07:002013-09-05T12:17:25.350-07:00Writing Instead of CleaningIf you saw my kitchen right now, you would know that I should be cleaning instead of writing.<br />
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There's a lot of things I should be doing instead of writing. Cleaning the kitchen is the most obvious, but there is also the putting away of laundry, the digging out a little of the chaos of the storage room, or the garage, or my closet, the doing of the taxes (help. Seriously help), the planning of the group class tomorrow, the sending of the visiting teaching email report, the sending of the email to the PTA president saying "yes, I will meet with you and talk about helping with Reflections again even though I was the worst Reflections chair in history last year and never even gave the kids any awards or even gave back their essays."<br />
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All of those things would be more productive, and I definitely need to be more productive.<br />
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But I also definitely need the therapy I get from writing this little blog. Therapy? Yes. It works like therapy for me but is cheaper. I've done therapy, and I think it's helpful with the right person talking with you. It's helpful when someone knows which books to recommend and can say, "No, you're not a terrible person. You probably just have ADD," and you think "Oh! That makes a lot of sense! Yes! The fact that I can't finish a project to save my life might just be biologically hard wired into my brain!" But it's also helpful to go on a long hike with your friend, Tibi, because she says things that are just about as helpful, like "Maybe Ben would be happier if he had more sleep and this is how I go about helping Jake get more sleep," and you think "Yes! She's right! And also <i>I</i> would be happier if <i>I</i> had more sleep."<br />
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In this same way, writing is like a helpful conversation with someone a little wiser and more put together than the real me. It clarifies my thoughts and teaches me things I didn't realize I even knew. Sometimes I don't even recognize a truth until I'm typing about it and then, WHAMMO, I get it. I will admit, I might even be a little addicted to those WHAMMO moments. They're just that nice.<br />
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Here's the truth. I mostly have been writing because of my challenge. But coming back has made me realize that even though this mommy blog years ago morphed into a Kerri blog, and that used to make me feel a little guilty and a little self-absorbed, there's a reason that it happened. When I read truth from any source, I feel more able to cope with the insanity that I'm living. When someone opens up her heart and says "This is how it is for me," her writing becomes sacred to me. So if sharing truth is a sacred duty, and I kind of think it is, then dang, I guess this is where I'm going to do it. When I start my next challenge group again next week, one of my five goals will still be writing. So I guess that means you'll be seeing me again soon.Kerrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00576698293179840264noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3891873544909184942.post-12841459439247556332013-09-04T14:16:00.000-07:002013-09-04T14:16:02.069-07:00Too Much Time (?!?!)So I have a few hours to myself in the middle of the day now.<br />
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It is lovely. I'm not going to lie to you.<br />
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But it is also a frustration, because all during those hours, I am asking myself if I'm using my time wisely.<br />
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And when you ask yourself if you are using your time wisely, I can guarantee you will start to find fault with the way you are using your time. (Or is that just me?)<br />
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Those of you who have journeyed this way before, tell me: How do I manage this new schedule? I have to exercise during these hours because of my teaching hours. So there goes an hour, plus then I have to get ready, so there goes another half hour. And then I make breakfast and sometime in there I have to eat lunch too. And those are time suckers. And there's scripture study. And laundry. And doing the breakfast dishes (ok, and sometimes the dinner dishes, too.) And taking care of the dog. And then BLAMMO. My day is gone and the kids are home and I'm teaching piano again and then there's dinner and homework and my kids practice time and reading time and family scripture time and trying to figure out how to help this kid with this problem and my calling and AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!<br />
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I thought I'd get so much done. It's kind of sad. Will I get better at this? Or (as I suspect) worse? What has worked for you? Or if you haven't been there and done that yet and are fighting your daily mothering battles ALL DAY LONG ALL DAY LONG ALL DAY LONG (because I have definitely been <i>there</i> and done <i>that!</i>, are you at all screaming at your computer, "JUST ENJOY YOURSELF, YOU DUMB WOMAN! WHAT I WOULDN'T GIVE FOR JUST ONE OF THOSE DAYS"? I know. I totally know. I absolutely know.Kerrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00576698293179840264noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3891873544909184942.post-16599813574920219912013-09-03T10:51:00.001-07:002013-09-03T10:52:39.154-07:00You Know You Love My Library Fine StoriesI just got an email from the Salt Lake City Library, letting me know that if I don't pay my (extremely large) fine within a week or so, they'll send me to collections.<br />
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A year or so ago I might have just ignored this email, since I haven't used the City Library in four years.<br />
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That was before last year when I was (yes, it's true) sent to collections for a Davis County Library fine of $53. I bring the humiliation of sharing this upon myself as a Public Service Announcement:<br />
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<i>USE THE LIBRARY AT YOUR OWN RISK.</i></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">(Also, believe the library when they say they might send your fine to collections. They're not just blowing sunshine, friends.)</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So I called the Salt Lake City library and asked why the push to have me pay a four year old fine. C'mon people...I thought I was free and clear. Four years is an eternity in library fine land!</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The lovely librarian was extremely kind, but puzzled. She couldn't understand why I hadn't been sent to collections already (!) but after a little begging, she waived part of my fine. Not all, as I had hoped for, but still, anything</span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> is helpful.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Libraries are dangerous places to people like me. And by people like me, I mean book-loving people with book-loving offspring who just can't get organized to save their lives.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Sigh.</span>Kerrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00576698293179840264noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3891873544909184942.post-1087920750858001172013-08-31T09:13:00.001-07:002013-08-31T09:13:25.458-07:00Transformation, Part 1I've been thinking a lot about change, obviously.<br />
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Some friends and I watched our wedding videos last night. I don't have a wedding video, so I brought my wedding album.<br />
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Some observations:<br />
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What was up with those puffy sleeves?<br />
And David's tinted glasses?<br />
Why does every bride now have hair and make up done professionally? How did it morph into that?<br />
And also along these lines, has Pinterest changed our expectations of weddings forever? Does every bride now feel like they have to have a million perfect details (and spend a million dollars) to have a lovely wedding?<br />
And then, of course, no bridesmaids' dresses EVER look good a few years down the road.<br />
And who thought it should be legal to allow two babies to get married? I look like I just walked out of my sophomore year of high school.<br />
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I looked at the pictures of the two of us, twenty-two years ago, and decided that this growing up and growing older and changing is just fine. I have more sense of the rightness of the turning of the world, of the cycles that happen without intention, just because it is how it is to live within the constraints of time.<br />
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My sweet brother, Kurt, and his exceptional wife, Ashleigh, had a baby yesterday. My heart has been so full of love for them. It is no longer my time to bring sweet, innocent, beautiful babies into this world. I have new roles, new paths, new responsibilities. What a joy it is to watch others step into that place and have those same sometimes (often) overwhelming experiences. They are changed through them. They are deepened, pushed, stretched. Changed.<br />
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I want to spend more time thinking about the changes that can happen WITH intention. I've been studying transformation. I've been thinking about who I am now, who I was earlier, and who I would like to become. I've been thinking about transformation within our family, as well. As I come up with more coherent thoughts , I'll probably share some of them here.<br />
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Because I still have to write fifteen minutes a day, dontcha know?Kerrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00576698293179840264noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3891873544909184942.post-27863153070038091402013-08-29T12:10:00.000-07:002013-08-29T12:10:00.995-07:00School, Day FourSummer is, indeed, over.<br />
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How do I know? Because today at 8:30, when the littles ran outside to join their carpool, I looked at the clock and realized I had been awake for three hours.<br />
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I've been up before six every morning this week.<br />
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I'm feeling very sorry for myself. I try to talk myself out of this. I think, "Dairy farmers have to get up earlier than this every day of their lives." Or "Your mother had someone in early morning seminary almost every year for 22 years." Or "Having a new baby is way worse."<br />
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But sadly, as always, comparison with those sad cases does not take away the pain of going from late-night-cookie-baking-and-card-games with a reasonable 6-7:30 wake up time the next day to late-night-helping-the-unnamed-student-type-his-summer-homework-essays-the-night-before-they-are-due with an unreasonable 5:40 wake up time the next day. One of these things is not like the other.<br />
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So there. I have complained. And here is a little more: I don't like this new schedule super much. I also feel bad for my exhausted monkeys. I also feel really lame because I have been a hands-off parent for a kid who needs a hands-on parent as far as planning schedules, etc.. And also, there is a lot of PRESSURE to get it together, and I, frankly, don't have it together.<br />
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But!<br />
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Schedules are good. Learning is good. Five hours alone every day has the potential of being very good. I've hiked twice and gone to the temple once. I've also folded four or more hours of laundry. But during the laundry folding? I watched a show that I wanted to watch. I haven't watched TV in the middle of the day since I don't know when. It felt positively decadent. I have time to exercise, to study my scriptures, to organize, to go to lunch with David. It's a wild and crazy thing, this new phase I'm in.<br />
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Crazy, I tell you.Kerrihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00576698293179840264noreply@blogger.com1