Wisdom

Two awesome quotes from a woman who still inspires me:

"I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully, tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails.

I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp.

I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbor's children.

I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone's garden. I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder.

I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived."

~Marjorie Pay Hinkley

"We women have a lot to learn about simplifying our lives. We have to decide what is important and then move along at a pace that is comfortable for us. We have to develop the maturity to stop trying to prove something. We have to learn to be content with what we are."

~Marjorie Pay Hinkley

How could I possibly add to that?!

Strauss and Sword Fights

It was 5:00 on Friday and I was in the slumps. The day, it appeared, was a complete waste. Somewhere amidst the doldrums I found a bootstrap and pulled on it. "This is not the way we are ending the day," I said and I began herding the children into the basement. We put on some Strauss, decked ourselves out in scarves and danced around the family room. Child #2 soon tired of dancing and disappeared into the toy room. Moments later, he was back with a wild look in his eye and brandishing a sword. He and I dueled and tickled and chased till both of us were out of breath.

Any day that ends with Strauss and sword fights is a good one in my book.

Oh, and I looked elegant wrapped in a pink sparkly curtain and headband bridal veil.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Best quote of the week

"English doesn't borrow from other languages.

English follows other languages down dark alleys,

knocks them over and goes

through their pockets for loose grammar."

No wonder I have problems!

That makes me want to read "Anguished English" again - that, or "The Mother Tongue."

David Case reads "The Mother Tongue" in the book on tape version. He has a magical voice. I once did Swedish weaving across an entire square of monk's cloth listening to his voice (that is an elegant way of saying I made a TV blanket.)

This is the part where I should warn you that I have "unique" tastes in books and media. I love black and white, gentle plots, obscure topics, gorgeous word-smithing, red-neck humor (Go Red Green) and sports movies. I hate watching sports, but I can't get enough of the movies made about them. Go figure. Basically, if you have never heard of it or fell asleep during it - I probably love it, can quote it and have purchased it at a yard sale.

Okay, I am going to push that little orange "publish post" button. My logical voice says to push the blue "save now" button so that I can edit this rambling jungle of thoughts, but I am rather addicted to the orange one. I must like editing after everyone has read the rambly version. That's a bit like patching the hole in your air mattress after your company leaves, but nevertheless, it is late and I crave the feeling of accomplishment only the orange button can give.

Goodnight.

V Power

With apologies to Rudyard Kipling

Now this is the law of the sky -- when geese are out on the loose.

The strength of the goose is the "v" and the strength of the "v" is the goose.

As we all know, geese fly in "v" formation for the aerodynamic advantage. That is cool. What is even cooler, is that if one goose falls out of v formation because of injury, fatigue or sickness, two other geese follow him to the ground, protect him, feed him and stay by him till he is ready to fly again. Then the three form a small v and fly to re-join the flock.

We have many "v"s in our life that are designed to work that way. We have family, friends, neighborhoods and church groups. These groups are perfectly situated to come to the aid of individuals in distress - if we let them.

Our family, church and neighborhood are reeling from the recent suicide of a mother in our area. She lived one block from me. Her youngest and my oldest played together. We served together in the church. She was among the most optimistic, loving, service-oriented women I have ever known. She had been struggling with mental illness and depression for a decade, but no one knew. Five years ago the information came to our then Relief Society President, but she was sworn to secrecy by this mother who didn't want anyone else to know. Now, I don't know if additional help and love would have altered her outcome, but I do know that additional help, prayers, and love would not have hurt. It might have pinched her pride a little, but that is nothing compared to the gaping wound of her absence.

I don't think we give ourselves credit for the heavy loads we cary. Our burdens look different than pioneer burdens, or ancient Nephite burdens, so we discount them. But burdens do not need to involve handcarts in order to be heavy.

Only last month I called to cancel a visit from my Visiting Teachers on account of a week-long illness rampaging through my family. "Well, can we bring food in?" my visiting teacher asked. My brain screamed "Yes! Yes! Yes!" but my mouth said "No, we're fine." Aurgh. Why do we do that? Okay, I know why. It was a combination of pride and a "this situation can't possibly be bad enough to warrant help" attitude. Perhaps my response should have been "No, we're fine, but if I'm ever battling cancer while being chased by grizzly bears I'll let you know."

We are commanded to bear one another's burdens and that means letting others help us so that we can, in turn, provide help. Balanced loads are always easier to carry. It seems natural to allow others to share the burden of our joys as well as the burden of our struggles.

The hearts of the most valiant are failing. It is time to ask if our version of "self reliance" is really stubborn pride in disguise. I want to allow the "v"s in my lives to come to my aid. That may mean being brave, and letting out a "honk" of distress. I know how liberating it is for me when I see that other people need help too.

Sincerely,

A Goose in Training

Elegant (Take Two)

elegant |ˈeləgənt|adjectivepleasingly graceful and stylish in appearance or manner: she will look elegant in black | an elegant, comfortable house.• pleasingly ingenious and simple
Ah, elegance. I want to "look elegant in black" and live in "an elegant, comfortable house." In my perfect, elegant world I wear pearls twice a week and clothes with "dry clean only" on the lable. I bake fresh scones every Tuesday. I have a personal masseuse named Helga and my hair is voluminous. (Brace for the jarring jerk back into reality.) My everyday elegant world involves a lot more Fisher Price and finger paints. I do make a great blueberry scone every year or so and I occasionally get to blow dry volume into my hair.
So where is my expertise? Am I audaciously writing about something I know nothing about? Well, maybe. I find Elegance in startling bursts of insight, in stolen, quiet moments to myself, in my children's laughter and in that one especially gorgeous burst of fall color on my carpool route. These things are my crystal chandeliers and champagne flutes. I have simple, pleasing moments.
This morning I had a taste of my kind of elegance. It began when I entered a -gasp- sparkling kitchen. (We had company over last night and one does like to keep up appearances.) I made whole wheat pancakes in a cast iron skillet and made an applesauce/apricot preserve sauce to go on top. My children sat happily at the table and loved the food. (ahhhhhh) Then child #3 went poop in her little potty. My life revolves around poop. Even the elegant moments get sucked into into the omnipotent orbit. This is a huge success because: child #3 is only 21 months old child #2 helped her do it and child #2 is still pulling out of a year long potty training regression and this moment indicates light at the end of the tunnel.
I am reveling in this. That is why I am blogging instead of scrubbing my bathtub. Here are my recipes, just in case you are interested.
Sauce Recipe: 1 1/2 quarts homemade applesauce + a generous scoop of organic apricot preserves. Preserves are clumpy, so I mixed mine with a potato masher. Elegant, no?
Pancakes: This must be made in a Vita Mix or similarly powerful blender.This is not for lesser machines. 1 c red wheat (whole and uncooked) 1 c milk (or 1/3 c dry milk + 1 c water) 2 eggs 2 T oil 2 t baking powder 2 T sugar or honey (I use sugar) 1/2 t salt
Blend. It is recommended to blend the milk and wheat first. I'm lazy and do it all at once. Heat your skillet. I rub the end of a frozen stick of butter on it before I put the first batch in and again between each successive batch. Frozen butter won't melt too fast or go gooshy on you.
Wishing you an Elegant day,Bethany

The secret of life

I am convinced that my mother-in-law, whom I adore, has figured out the secret to life. She is the mother of 11. (Pause for hushed and reverential thoughts.) She lives out in the country, over 30 min. from the nearest grocery store. She has raised, pigs, sheep, horses, alfalfa. Her raspberry patch alone is bigger than my living room. I have seen her serve in the stake Young Women's presidency while her husband was bishop, etc. etc. (believe me there is more.) And in nine years I have only seen her stressed once. She gets up every morning, works as hard as she can at the things that matter most to her, and then she lets the rest go. And I mean she really lets go. There is no stressing, worrying or berating. I have never been in a house where there is more love. It is never immaculate, but who cares? The little messes are evidence of the price she pays to give her life to the things that matter most.

I was recently talking to a friend whose children are all grown. She said "Why did I kill myself all those years trying to maintain a clean home?" Now, striving for order and healthful cleanliness is awesome. Stressing and "killing yourself" and making your family miserable in pursuit of Martha Stewart-like perfection is not.

Okay, let's give this a shot. There is mold growing in my toilet ... breathe ... I did run a pre-school this morning and read to my children and study my scriptures. I am letting go of my stress. I will not let you use my bathroom, but I will let go of the stress. Okay, ditto to my dishes, my laundry, the chaos in the basement, the sticky spots on the floor ... oh, oh, despair is building. I'd better go snuggle my baby, lower my heart rate and then get to work on the most important things.