Lesson Not Learned

Oops, we did it again. First, a little background. Tim is very allergic to both dogs and cats, and I have always said that this is just one of the many reasons I know he is the right guy for me. Let's just say I am mentally allergic to dogs and cats and, really, and any other pet. Nevertheless, we have still had birds, fish, hermit crabs, and most notably, hamsters way back in 2006. Here's a journal entry describing that memorable experience:

"Well, I knew all along we were not, shall we say, 'pet people.' But we succumbed to the boys’ pleading and surprised them by driving to the pet store (amidst much shrieking for joy when we arrived!) and purchasing the hamsters and all their paraphernalia the weekend before Tristan turned 9 and Gavin turned 5. The entire weekend they were beside themselves with joy and excitement."

"Honestly, by the time their b-days arrived (W/Th), the excitement had already petered down a bit. Well, this week we said good-bye to the hamsters—having made it nearly three months with pets. Tristan proved himself entirely responsible and was great about feeding them and cleaning their cage once a week. But both boys had many other priorities (like soccer), and those poor hamsters never got a chance to get out of their cage except when it was being cleaned. No one paid the slightest bit of attention to them, other than to move them to the bathroom at night because they were so darn noisy that the boys couldn’t sleep. And can we talk about the stench???? Even with the super deluxe bedding material that was supposed to mask the smell, our entire house was starting to reek. I couldn’t even go in the boys’ room without wanting to gag. It took a little while to convince Gavin (Tristan was easier since he was the cleaning guy), but since we gave them away, I haven’t noticed anyone at all missing Henry and Harry. As for myself, I cleaned, polished, and sprayed odor-out spray everywhere, and I just go around sniffing the “No More Hamsters” smell with a sense of thrill. The nice thing is the girl that took them was utterly thrilled and right away was reaching in to hold them (which always terrified our boys). In addition, her mom felt it was essential that she pay something for them (much to my objection) to increase her sense of responsibility toward them. So each of the boys got five dollars, which eased the pain of giving away their birthday gifts."

Passing Henry and Harry on to their new owner.

"If we have learned this lesson for good, it was well worth the initial investment of $100! After they were gone, Gavin said, “I know what pet we could have!” I said, “What?” and he said, 'A pet we make, like we draw or something. Because it wouldn’t smell, and we wouldn’t have to feed it or clean it…' I told him that was the best idea ever." (4/02/06)

Alas, did we learn this lesson for good? No, we did not. 

Caden and his new best friend, Monty.

How about that beam?

In the midst of downward dog this morning at yoga, I allowed myself to get distracted by the goings-on around me (a sure sign of a yoga novice!). A woman had come from behind my friend, who was next to me, to whisper to her that they were too close together, and that she (my friend) needed to move forward. My friend quietly stopped her practice to move her mat forward and reposition herself. I reflected that

1. My friend had been in her spot first,
and
2. The woman behind her had far more room to move back than my friend had to move forward.

Why was it that the woman could so clearly see the problem (collision risk during leg extensions), but not the fact that she could fix the problem entirely on her own? Why was her first inclination to ask someone else to change in order to fix what was essentially her problem? This behavior is so utterly typical and so typically human that Jesus said:

• Luke 6:41

  41 And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother’s eye, but perceivest not the beam that is in thine own eye?

• Luke 6:42

  42 Either how canst thou say to thy brother, Brother, let me pull out the mote that is in thine eye, when thou thyself beholdest not the beam that is in thine own eye? Thou hypocrite, cast out first the beam out of thine own eye, and then shalt thou see clearly to pull out the mote that is in thy brother’s eye.

I reflected on how often I fall into this trap of thinking problems could be resolved if only other people did the changing. It's something I've thought of many times before, but life handed me a reminder this morning.

The Boots

At first glance, you might think this is a Christmas or anniversary story, but it's really a love story. So, to keep the Valentine's Day spirit going a little longer, I am sharing this little peek into our holidays...

I love boots. I love boots so much that I have seven pairs of them, even here in Texas where it’s hardly ever cold enough to wear them. Alongside my passion for boots is my passion for a great deal, so let me be clear: I have never spent more than $30 a pair for any of my boots, and most I have had for a very long time. However, after eight years in Texas, I found myself wanting a pair of authentic cowboy boots. 

One Saturday morning mid-December, Tim took the boys for their annual “shop-for-Mom-have-lunch-out-with-Dad-have-a-super-fabulous-time” adventure. This tradition has evolved to where the boys shop for some specific suggestions at some very specific stores, and I love it that most of their time is spent just having fun together: 

Lunch at Babe's...
(Or, heart-attack-on-a-plate. I am thrilled that they go here without me.)

Working hard shopping for me at Charming Charlie's.

While all these shenanigans are going on, I am supposed to go look for something I need to pick out myself. (This is by request from Tim...it makes his holiday shopping so much easier.) This year, I headed to Justin.

Justin is a tiny Texas town--only about twenty minutes away, but it feels like a lifetime. There is essentially nothing in Justin but four huge discount boot stores, and thus it is known as The Boot Capital of the West. I just had to go.

And I found them. The Perfect Boots. Everything I had dreamed of without really knowing what my dream was, until I saw them. Chocolate Lizard. Are you kidding me?! Boots with the word “chocolate” in their title? It just couldn’t get more perfect. They were perfect in all ways, until I looked at the price. Heart attack. Even at discount boot prices, these boots were not $30. Not by a long shot. So they were not for me.

When I met up with Tim and the boys later that day at our church Christmas party, I was telling my friend about The Perfect Boots. My friend said, “I shop at Thrift City for everything else so that I can buy my boots.” Tim said, “How much were they?” I responded and he said, “You should have just gotten them.” No, no, no. I couldn’t even think about it…or stomach it.

I knew Tim was anxious for me to find some boots (my big Christmas present…he didn’t want to be left high and dry without a gift for me), so I continued my hunt the next week. Nothing came close to The Boots. Chocolate Lizard, remember? I am a very content person, and truly can’t think of any material thing I have ever really yearned for. As much as I liked The Boots, I decided, “Well, no matter. Those are a want, not a need.” There was no part of me that could justify paying the price.

On December 21, our anniversary, Tim called me in the afternoon. He had left work early (wow!) and was heading home to celebrate. He wanted to start our evening with a little boot-shopping. He arrived home with a single red rose, instead of the huge bouquet he normally presents to me on our anniversary. 

(Last year's anniversary, including an example
 of the typically fabulous anniversary bouquet...)

He explained that he’d thought it through, and that he normally spent X amount on anniversary flowers, and X amount on a fancy anniversary dinner, and that maybe that amount, combined, could bring The Boots down to a price I could feel OK about. It did.

My heart was so touched that my husband would minister to my wants…and my needs! My heart was filled to overflowing at how well he knows me after our 23 years together. He would have happily bought me the boots regardless; he knew we could afford them. However, he also knew what I needed in order to feel at peace about such a purchase.   

I love my Chocolate Lizard Boots. But I love my husband of 23 years even more. 

Happy Valentine's Day!

Happy Valentine's Day! As pointed out in my sister's blog, no doubt this is a holiday created by retailers. I know--even within my own extended family--that people often aren't receptive to being told when and how to celebrate their love. However, in our little family, we like to celebrate anytime possible. It interrupts the often mundane tasks of life with joy, delight, and wonder. A holiday, even a retailer-created one, is the perfect excuse to celebrate, and we do! What I like about Valentine's Day, especially, is that the little things we do for each other are typically gifts of the heart. For example, this year, I especially loved Caden's handmade crafts that he made for his brothers. I also enjoyed getting up extra early with Tristan (5:15!) to make him a special Valentine's breakfast before he headed off before 6:00 AM.

My gifts for the boys included a copy their "journals"--the birthday letters I write them each year, funny things they said when they were little, snapshots of their lives that I'd written over the years, and even lots of letters they'd written to their grandparents. They were cracking each other up this morning reading funny things they'd said when they were little. This had all been on the computer, but getting it to a format they could read and enjoy was well worth the effort! They also each got their own special box of Peppermint Bark Popcorn drizzled with Valentine-y melted hot pink Andes peppermint candies. Tim got "Valentine's In a Bag" with lots of different date ideas/items. He has been out of town this week and flew in mid-day today, which helped to make our day extra fun. We never get a chance to go out to lunch mid-week, and it felt like well-deserved playing hooking after his 15- or 16-hour days this week. 

The Celebration Station!
Where the party always begins at our house. 

This morning I was thinking that all the extra things we do during holidays help to build cherished memories, strengthen family bonds, and increase the love we have for each other. But even the most delightful holiday traditions could be hollow if the foundation isn't there in a family. In that light, I close with these profound truths from Gordon B. Hinckley: 

I know of no single practice that will have a more salutary effect upon your lives than the practice of kneeling together as you begin and close each day. Somehow the little storms that seem to afflict every marriage are dissipated when, kneeling before the Lord, you thank him for one another, in the presence of one another, and then together invoke his blessings upon your lives, your home, your loved ones, and your dreams.

God then will be your partner, and your daily conversations with him will bring peace into your hearts and a joy into your lives that can come from no other source. Your companionship will sweeten through the years; your love will strengthen. Your appreciation for one another will grow.

Your children will know the security of a home where dwells the Spirit of the Lord. You will gather them together in that home, as the Church has counseled, and teach them in love. They will know parents who respect one another, and a spirit of respect will grow in their hearts. They will experience the security of the kind word softly spoken, and the tempests of their own lives will be stilled. They will know a father and mother who, living honestly with God, live honestly also with one another and with their fellowmen. They will grow up with a sense of appreciation, having heard their parents in prayer express gratitude for blessings great and small. They will mature with faith in the living God.

I agree!

Wherever Two or Three are Gathered

I've been so grateful, especially lately, for the blessing of living in such a strong faith-based community.  We moved here 8 years ago (almost exactly...February 3!) from Draper, Utah. Though Tim and I both grew up in California, we loved living in Utah after we married. We are members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (although most people refer to us as Mormons, due to our belief in the Book of Mormon as a companion book of scripture to the Bible), so we fit right in with all the other Mormons in Utah.

When the time came to move from Utah to Texas, I wondered about all the changes the move would bring. I knew there was still a lot of bias against Mormons in some areas of the country. Would our little neck of the woods be one of those places? I learned quickly and with relief that not only would we be accepted here, but we would be accepted as fellow Christians. Further, I recognized early on that although my new neighbors, friends, and associates did not for the most part share my particular faith, they would abundantly bless me with their own.

As witness to that fact, I share a few examples:

• Just yesterday, my utterly delightful Catholic neighbor and I decided to join together on a specific goal to observe Lent. While observing Lent is not part of the Mormon faith, I have used it as an opportunity to strengthen my spirit and to work on self-mastery in the past with other Catholic friends. I was grateful for the chance to do so again. I am also grateful to feel an instant connection with a new neighbor, a connection made much stronger because of a mutual belief in Christ.
• Two days ago I was blessed to attend a prayer meeting at another neighbor's--someone I don't know well, but someone who felt called to invite people in our neighborhood together in order to unite in prayer over a current issue that deeply concerns us (school re-zoning). This neighbor, also of another faith, shared a scripture from the Bible, "For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them" (Matthew 18:20 KJV). She then said a prayer that brought tears to my eyes, because I felt that the scripture she read had been fulfilled as she prayed. The tears were also tears of of gratitude to live in a community where we can openly share our beliefs and our faith in God. I felt His spirit blessing our little gathering that night.
• Less than two weeks ago, my son Tristan got his drivers' license. I have a little OCD about driving anyway...in my mind it's a necessary evil. So the thought of my teenage son driving off all alone was a little more than my worried mother-heart could take. Strong comfort came in the form of reassuring words from, of all people, my insurance agent. In eight years I've never even met this man face to face, but I have had enough conversations with him to know he is a deeply faithful man. With complete sincerity, he reassured me that they prayed for their customers every day. I was touched and comforted.
• A couple of years ago, Tristan needed surgery on his finger due to an accident. Right before the surgery took place, the anesthesiologist came in, sat on the edge of Tristan's bed, and asked if he could offer a prayer. Of course we said yes. I was so moved by that faith-filled gesture, and so grateful for a fellow Christian willing to "walk the walk" and live like he believed without knowing ahead of time if we would be receptive or not. Again, God blessed that little gathering of three believers and Tristan and I both felt at peace.
• Over Christmas, we attended several concerts for the high school choir that Tristan participates in. One of them was held in a local church. I was once again pleasantly surprised by the beautiful and sacred music that the choir performed. My husband and I both commented that such sacred music would surely not be welcome in some other communities throughout the country, and how grateful we were that it was still welcome here.
• Over the past year, we have attended a number of interfaith concerts, where people from many local churches, including our own, joined together to perform music that uplifted us all. I have been blessed by the efforts and talents by so many people of faith who want to share their love of the Lord by praising him through music. 
• I've learned that we can find common ground even beyond other Christian faiths. A couple of years ago, we were invited to attended a dinner at a local Muslim church in celebration of Ramadan. We were welcomed, we were friend-shipped, and we were fed in more ways than one. We found common ground in our love of God and family. 

So, while I remain utterly committed to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I am deeply grateful for the blessing of being surrounded by people who grace my life with their testimonies of God and Jesus Christ. Whenever two or three are gathered in His name, wherever it may be, He is there. And I am thankful.

Setting Things Down

Prior to starting my blog, I was always impressed with all the bloggers out there who seemed to come up with interesting, entertaining, and delightful things to post--often on a daily basis. Since starting my blog, I have become even more impressed. Because I most definitely don't have things that merit a blog post happening on a daily basis...or maybe I just need to pay closer attention.

Just yesterday I read this great line in our book club book for this month, "As she [referring to the narrator's sister] only cries about once a year I really ought to have gone over and comforted her, but I wanted to set it all down here. I begin to see that writers are liable to become callous" (I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith). I cracked up at that, especially since the book was originally published in 1948 and takes place in the early 1930's. I wondered what this quite delightful teenage narrator, Cassandra, who is striving throughout the book to become a writer, would think about things like reality TV, social networking, Twitter, and yes, even blogs. "Setting things down" might become ever so much more overwhelming than the journal-writing Cassandra already finds it to be. Sometimes I have to wonder how people manage to live their lives when they are so busy documenting every detail. It's a puzzle, and it's far too daunting a task for me.

But, I also believe that writers, to stereotype and generalize quite liberally, are definitely not callous. I know that "setting things down" always helps me be more thoughtful about experiences I have and the people I interact with every day, which is the very opposite of callous. It often helps me sort through what matters most.

I hope I can strike a balance between living my life and "setting things down." For starters, here's just a little shot from this weekend. As a very land-locked Californian, who manages to keep moving further inland, I am immensely grateful we have a lake five minutes away. If you squint just right, you can imagine you're at the ocean. Or, you can just look in wide-eyed appreciation that at least there's a big body of water so close by. It's one of my favorite places to be here, especially on a beautiful day in early February with my boys and their friends. I am reminded of a quote I have loved since I was a teenager: "Whenever I stray too far from beachland, the ocean calls me back" (Robert Murdoch). The ocean is calling me, loudly, but the lake keeps me patient, just enough, until the next time I can get to "beachland." I am grateful.

Two of my boys, with two of their friends, contemplating the beauty of the lake...
 or, more likely, all the S'mores they just ate.