If I only had a brain/Organizational Principles

I have serious SERIOUS pregnancy brain. I can't even write. I forgot child #3s name. I dropped child #1 off at a lesson an hour early. I spaced a class I was supposed to attend. I backed my car into a rock ... I am going nuts. I have heard from several sources that pregnancy brain with child #4 is crazy and it is ... I am ... my life is .... I can't even punctuate.

So, the gist here is that I am having a hard time even writing, but In response to a friend's request, I wanted to post some of my guiding principles of sorting. Most of these I shamelessly borrowed and adapted from a professional organizer who taught a class for our Relief Society:

The space for what you want is taken up by the stuff you've settled for.

If it's crammed, the stuff you have won't bring you joy and the point of caring for and maintaining stuff is to have it bring you joy.

Is this item moving you toward or away from your family mission statement?

If you get rid of 100 things, chances are you will need two of them within the week and another 3-5 of them within the year. Chances are all of them will be available online or at Wal-Mart for $5 or less.

When sorting make three piles. This enables fast sorting. One pile is a "keep for sure pile." One is a "think about for a bit" pile. And the third is a "yard sale or give away now" pile. It is also nice to have a garbage bag handy.

If you want God to bless you, you can't be tight fisted with what He has given you. If you are holding on to boxes of blessings on the off chance that you might use them someday (even though you only look at them when sorting the dark, cobwebby corners of your house) why should He send you more? Those boxes of blessings could be passed on to those who need them now. This has a lot to do with trusting that God will take care of you and bless you with what you need, when you need it. Holding on to all three separate sizes of pre-pregnancy clothes (none of which you have been able to wear for the last 5 years) may not be the best idea.

Finally (and this one is all me) I love stuff. I have stuff that brings me joy. Some of it I only see when I sort, but I love my First Grade pencil box. I joy in my great-grandmother's candy dish (which will not see the light of day till my youngest is at least 12 years old.) I like a tidy house, but I like to have the corners softened by a little bit of "artistic dishevelment." I like the human, coziness of a little rumple, a little clutter, a little excess. Any more than a little and I go a little nuts, but I believe in softening the edges.

So, that's me on organization. I have nearly got the upstairs done. Truth moment - Everything I was not sure where to put is in piles in my basement. The basement is next and my knees tremble at the thought, but it too shall be conquered.

Poetry

Every once in a while, I find a poem that speaks to my soul. This one was read on the radio on Classical 89.

Gathering Up

by Duo Yu

Translated by Steven Riep

The winter rain gathers up all the tears

Damp fallen leaves, black, like burnt spirit money

A man on the upper slope

His raised shoulders

Gathers up all forbearance

The bird in the pine needles gathers up

The ash Gray threads of rain, like floating hair.

Gather up into a beautiful face.

I stand by the window

Looking at the water droplets on the pane

Gathering up to form a sea of sorrow.

What sort of sorrow will,

When gathered up

Become power

Depends on you love.

I regret I do not know how it was originally notated or punctuated. I have never read much Japanese Poetry before, but this one moved me. Talk about simple elegance.

Whacha!

"It's not the tragedies that kill us. It's the messes," said a very wise Dorothy Parker.

I freely confess that there are areas of my house that I dread and fear. You know, the kitchen drawer with piles of "useful" but unfindable information, the closet you affectionately refer to as the black hole ... well, as I've mentioned before, I want to re-claim my house and re-claim my life from my stuff. So I have been cracking my lion tamers whip and WHACHA! watching these areas of dark terror quail before me. Six down, infinity to go. Just kidding, it's more like 25. That feels like infinity sometimes.

The good news? I am realizing that the stringent, heart-wrenching sort-outs I did a few years ago are paying dividends. There is less to get rid of than I thought. Some areas have even stayed reasonably sorted.

On to elegance.

God Loves Me

I recently had one of "those" shopping experiences. Being a die-hard yard-saler, I have rarely have the experiences that come with shopping with children. Karma decided that I should get them out of the way all at once.

We have a family picture was coming up and I needed to find some specific colors, so we hit the mall.

Side Note: In my children's defense, a few days before we had hit half a dozen used clothing stores and they behaved beautifully. Yes, we did have to do some backtracking due to a forgotten jacket and a forgotten shoe and we visited three restrooms ... but that just comes with the territory.

Okay, so we arrived at the mall and my umbrella stroller refused to lock into place. I body slammed it into the asphalt. Problem solved. With child #3 finally buckled in, we sailed into the mall on wings of optimism. I shall present just a few highlights.

In the first store, child #3 learned how to get out of the stroller buckles, fell out of the stroller and bonked her head. Child #3 is the one with the lungs. I have never seen a cashier work so fast, or be so willing to part with so many stickers.

Child #2 decided that if child #3 didn't want to ride in the stroller then he would, and climbed in. Child #3 resented the intrusion and began beating her older brother while cursing in two-year-old-eese.

The second store was full of reachable, shiny accessories. Being denied such shine accessories in the first store, child #3 grabbed a bag and with a speed that any kleptomaniac would admire, filled the bag, dashed out the door and began to book it down the hall-way. Child #2 gave chase, tackled her, and held her till I caught up. This was no easy feat. He only has a pound or two on her, but he does have greater speed and agility.

In the third store, I gained greater insight to the definition of stymied (a situation or problem presenting such difficulties as to discourage or defeat any attempt to deal with or resolve it) The dictionary claims this definition has it's roots in golf, but I believe it originated with shopping excursions. The dilemma of finding a opponent's ball between your ball and the cup is nothing to being half naked in a dressing room and having all three of your children wiggle out under the door and begin a game of high-speed chase through the store.

Additionally, child #1 is incapable of standing still in a dressing room. If there is a mirror and an audience she must dance. If she happens to be wearing a new dress, then there is really no hope. Child #2 is compelled to touch naked mannequins. And I am not even going to start on the elevator/escalator debacle, but thank you nameless J.C. Penny employee for bringing my family back together again.

At the end of all this, I was doing a very painful pregnant waddle. I walked my crew out to the van ... and there were no keys. I remember hooking my keys to my purse with a carribeaner before entering the mall, but they were nowhere. I waddled back into the mall. An exhausted child #3 had been screaming for the last 10 minutes and continued to scream unless I carried her. We started to look for the keys, but I simply could not go on. I sat down on a bench, ignoring the narrowed looks being shot at me by the pushy salesman at the closest booth. The screams of nap-needy child #3 were sending all possible customers rushing past him at a trot. Using my last blinking bar of cell-phone battery I call my husband to come and rescue me. I sat there praying and encouraging my children to do the same. As I sat there, I had the idea to rummage through the bags that held my purchases. There, in a bag within a bag, under a pile of clothes were my keys.

I cannot fathom what combination of angels, physics, children, pregnancy brain or flat out miracles it took to get my keys there, but there they were. Considering the chaos we had been through, they could have been anywhere. I called my husband back and told him that God must loved me because despite my seriously considering using duck-tape on a few of His children, He still took the time to rescue me. With child #3's sleepy head dropped to my shoulder, we quietly and thankfully made our way out of the mall.

Family Mission Statement

I once read a great book on organization called "Organized Simplicity." The author recommended that every family should have a mission statement to guide them as they sort through their stuff and their schedules. I loved the concept. Here is the statement we came up with. It has gone through some changes, and I anticipate it may go through more.

Family Mission Statement

Glorify God at all times.

Live with a heart at peace.

Work hard and play hard.

Cultivate strong family bonds.

Serve our fellow men.

Be examples of refinement.

Choose the important over the urgent and

the timeless over the transient.

Be valiant.

Build Zion.

Mission Statement for our Home

Provide a clean, safe sanctuary apart from the world.

Be a place where the spirit of the temple dwells.

Give opportunities for work, learning and wholesome recreation.

Motto

Fortis vincit multum. Amor vincit omnia.

(Strength conquers much. Love conquers all.)

I hope that's grammatically correct in Latin

This house is due for a serious sorting. I'm not sure how that is going to fit in, but I know it needs to happen. I love having a clear measuring stick because I get so confounded attached to my stuff. Wish me luck.

Words, words, words

I love that scene from Hamlet.

As a dyed in the wool semanticist, the power of words intrigues me. For the last little while, I have been thinking about just that and I believe I have isolated the two most powerful phrases known to man. By powerful, I mean destiny shaping, character molding, life altering and universe shaking. Amazingly, they are not:

"To be or not to be" or

"Fourscore and seven years ago" or

"I have a dream" or

"One small step for man" or

"We the people" or even

"And the Academy Award goes to ...."

No, it is my hypothesis that the most powerful phrases of all time are:

"I love you" and

"I know that my Redeemer lives."

This is meaningful to be because I can share those words regardless of what may be falling apart in my life. God, being the canny parent He is, saw fit to keep us very busy (sleeping, eating, working, etc.) He knew how much trouble we would get into in the free time allotted to us, and mercifully minimized it as much as possible. We also live in a flawed and unpredictable world. Much is out of our control. But God left the access points to the most powerful forces for good wide open. Oh sure, both require work, but neither require specialized training or federal approval. No degree, or poll result, or qualifying time is needed. Not even health or wealth or education gives a person an edge when it comes to living these phrases.

I love knowing that, unpredictability and chaos notwithstanding, I can provide my children with the best this world has to offer.

Soldier On

When my husband and I were newly-weds, we had the privilege of attending a remarkable sacrament meeting. It was Veteran's Day, and a white haired gentleman slowly made his way to the podium. In a distinctly German accent, he told of his experience during the war and how he was forced into the army as a youth. He opposed everything the war stood for, and so, as a young man had made the powerful but dangerous decision to never fire a shot. Occasionally, when he was under suspicion, he would fire into the air. "But in all my years in that army, I never fired my rifle at another man, not once." Following his remarks another white haired gentleman came to the microphone and said that he served in the US army during WWII. He spoke of serving his mission in Germany. He was drafted just months after he returned home. How could he fire on a people he loved so much? "I too never fired a shot," he said. The congregation sat in tearful silence following these two grand old men.

Now I am deeply grateful for those who did fire shots in defense of freedom and right. What touches me so deeply about these stories is that these young men, marched into the furnace of war committed to living true to the very best within them -whatever the cost.

That is a lesson I need. I want to face my challenges with the same integrity that those former soldiers did.

All too often I give in to outside pressures. It could be trying to keep my house the way someone else does, without thinking about how I want to keep my house. Sometimes it's driving faster on the freeway because I'm getting cranky looks from other drivers. Sometimes it's trying to look a certain way, or parent a certain way or somehow trying to live up to someone else's standards without considering who I really am or what I really want for myself and my family.

I look forward to getting to know me - the person I am at this stage in my life - and to living life on my terms. I want to live true to the very best within me - whatever the cost.