The Reverence Miracle

A few weeks ago our Bishop asked each family to hold a family night lesson on "Reverence in the Chapel and Keeping it Clean". I hung my head in shame when I first heard it and even felt a tinge of offense. I quickly brushed those feelings under the rug, knowing very well that that was not at all what the Bishop's aim was. And in fact, as I thought on it, was grateful for this inspired suggestion, as it was the perfect solution (or beginning to one) to the weekly struggle, fight, battle that is church for our family right now. (Including grabbing Cam off of the stand at least once every week.)

As I began my preparations for family night I realized that I wasn't preparing myself for the battle very well. The "church bag" was a sorry excuse for one. So I went to Hobby Lobby and stocked up on a few things, and got to work preparing a battle-station in a bag. (Side note: one trick I did already have up my sleeve, and has been working well for us: snacks. I hate snacks at church, but they do keep little mouths happy. So here is what I do: Only a parent controls the snacks. A child is allowed one piece of snack at a time, and the child does not reach into the container. The child signs "more please" silently and the parent gives them one piece, they eat it, and then ask for more by signing. This helps maintain a great deal of control over the mess and chaos of snacktime. And the kids kind of like that they have to ask in sign language, which, of course, keeps them quieter.)

The family home evening lesson was well received, with practices of reverent feet, hands, mouths, etc, role-playing, and stories. And then the rest of the week was craft time...or was supposed to be. I did buy a brand new bag--a back pack so that when I'm slinging my RS Secretary bag and two babies while wearing heels, I won't be head-cursing about the diaper bag swinging around and whacking babies in the head.

Saturday night of that same week, I was frantically trying to finish preparations. After all, the next day was Stake Conference, and that means 2 hours of the typically 1 hour and 15 battle. Spencer went to bed at 10:30 and reminded me not to get too attached to the idea that this was going to work for more than 10 minutes.

I continued working on my projects: 3 I Spy bean bags of felt and rice; felt book with felt doll and hair, clothes, and accessories; folder with gospel coloring pages and blank sheets for "notes". I packed the whole bag: parmesan goldfish (leave a little less mess since they're white), a few quiet baby toys, hand puppets, three books, and the new church toys I had just made.

I laid down at 3 in the morning and thought about what Spencer had said. I thought about how miserable Stake Conference tends to be with these little ones. And then I thought about something that I heard in the adult session of Stake Conference that very night. The message that came to mind was about the Brother of Jared and that he did all the preparations for their journey across the waters that he could, and then turned to the Lord and had the faith to say, "I've done what I can, now if you'll just touch these stones so that we may have light...." And then I said a little prayer. "Lord, I've done the best I could do. I've done all I can. But it will take a miracle to get these kids to be reverent in Stake Conference tomorrow. Please, give us a miracle."

And folks, a miracle is what it was. Literally. We weren't even sitting on a pew. It was in a highschool auditorium (a big one), with theatre seats, the kind that flip up. And Campbell actually fell asleep for most of the time. Can you believe it? And Cadence was happily, quietly engaged in coloring and exploring the new toys. And Layla was tired and cranky but the couple next to us was patient and understanding and when I went to take Layla to the back, they said, "She's not too loud. Stay here." And when she was too loud, they took her and calmed her right down! I knew that the Lord had heard my prayer. And I knew he was trying to teach me a lesson.

Rewind a few weeks. It's just a week and a half before Cadence is going to be starting preschool. I have been looking everywhere, including trying to contact past doctors and even the State of Illinois, looking for Cadence's immunization record. I could't even remember if I ever had a copy of it in the first place. We have moved so much in the last four years, where to even start!?! Is there even a complete record of her immunizations anywhere in the world? I had to have it to give to her school or she couldn't start. I was panicky. I didn't know what to do. I had literally checked every place I knew of to look. Day after day I would revisit the file cabinet and other stacks of documents, looking for it.

One day I accepted defeat. I dropped to my knees and, completely humbled, told the Lord that I needed a miracle. If they had to appear out of nowhere, the Lord could do it. But I couldn't. A miracle. Please.

It's weird because I'm not really in the habit of asking for my own miracles. But I did it that day. I stood up. I calmly walked back to the file cabinet. I could see a folder I hadn't seen in years. A folder I thought had been recycled. I could just see it right there in the cabinet where it wasn't supposed to be. Like, if it were a movie, it would have been glowing or something. It wasn't, but it somehow caught my eye immediately. And there, inside the folder, were her immunization records. Complete. Multiple copies of them. I didn't even know I had them. Gratitude and Relief washed over me. Thank you.

The lesson is this: The work I'm doing is endless and tireless and overwhelmingly important. And I can't do it all. There is no way I can keep up with every thing I'm trying to do. To do my calling perfectly, keep my house acceptable (not even going for perfection here), to read my scriptures and my Ensign and the book group book, to keep up with those friends that I care about and keep in touch with family, and give my kids all the attention and affection and learning and nurturing that they need...it just can't all happen at once. And the Lord knows. So I do my best. And I work harder than I think I can, and then if I have faith to ask for a miracle, the Lord will help me. After all, aren't we partners in parenting with the Lord? If I believe that the Lord is a "God of Miracles", why wouldn't He happily bless me with miracles as I try to raise these children He has lent me? It's like I suppose that the Lord has a limit to how many miracles He can do in a day, and I don't qualify. I'm pretty sure that's not quite how it works.

If I have "faith sufficient", and I'm truly putting forth the effort to do those things that are asked of me, the Lord can make the "stones" that I bring before him into bright and shiny heavenly lights. Oh, and he can for you, too.

See my stones, glowing with the Light of the Lord (Layla's getting there :) ? Man, what is better than motherhood?

He Beat Me Again...

Spencer doesn't actually beat me in the wife-beating sense.  I just mean that every year I fail at making his birthday special, and he manages to make mine excede all my wild expectations (and I do have wild expectations for my birthdays).

Spencer's birthday was on a monday, in my defense, only a week after starting a new job, and only three weeks after moving, so naturally every moment up to that day I had been spending unpacking and doing the general business of getting settled into a place.  Now that I've excused myself...

Luckily, Cadence is at the perfect age to make any birthday exciting.  She was all for spending the entire day in preparation for birthday celebrations.

We decorated the patio.

We decorated the breakfast nook.

We made paintings and drawings and cards.

We decorated "gift boxes" for all the little gifts I could find at Walmart.

Since we didn't really have much by way of friends at that point, we just had a party unto ourselves, which is quite uncharacteristic for us, you may know.  So I tried to make it cool.  I made (quite yummy) hamburgers for dinner, and then sent them all out to run in the sprinklers while I set up for the final activity before cake presents, roasting marshmallows in the fire pit (actually on the fire pit with our camping grill, since I forgot to buy charcoals--lam-ish, I know).

And all the praise and thanks and love that Spencer's birthday letter would have included will be alluded to in my birthday summation, so let's just move right on to that!

My birthday, unlike Spencer's lameness, was on a Saturday of a 4-day weekend.  And if you know me, you know my birthday lasts for at least two weeks.  The week before and the week following.  And longer, if I want.  I tried to throw myself a totally awesome party that I was sure the whole of Northwest Arkansas and maybe into Missouri and OK would want to come to, but I made the mistake of having my birthday on the first day of BYU football.  Obviously, we had to reschedule.  The next Saturday had a game that ended earlier, so we postponed.

So Spencer and the girls dedicated the entire weekend to me.  Saturday after I slept in we went to "War Eagle Cavern", where we saw an old-fashioned working flour mill and then went to see the cave and mine for gems.  Oh yeah, we got some, alright.  It was so exciting for the kids.  We had a lot of fun and it tuckered the kids (and Spencer and I) right out.

That night I got to choose exactly how to spend our time, so I chose to go to the place where a mom can be a mom... Chuck E Cheese!  The kids thought this was a necessary ingredient to birthday celebrations, and what better way to spend my birthday than to see my kids having fun?  Spencer made (bought) me a beautiful and delicious Red Velvet Cake and we laughed at how much smoke that big collection of candles had made--probably more candles than any one cake at Chuck E Cheese had ever had...

Once we got home we picked up a sitter and Spencer and I were off on a date.  We had a great time seeing a movie that was refreshingly different though not necessarily one I would recommend to just anybody (Scott Pilgrim Vs the World).  We sure did have a good time together, though.

Monday (labor day) was my second birthday, and I told him that all I wanted was to have the whole day to accomplish all my to-do's.  He took the kids to the lake, he took them out and played soccer, he fed them, bathed them.  Then we all went to a matinee.

What a perfect weekend!

And then the next Saturday we had my party.  It rocked.  We rocked.  I try to be careful of posting about acitivities that may seem to exclude others, but I think there is only one friend who reads my blog from Arkansas, and she was there.   Here you go, a taste of the awesomeness:

Spencer put a lot of thought into my presents, into the planning and execution of my birthday(s).  As he always does.  He knows just how to make me feel special and loved and appreciated.  Time and money are two things that he is acutely aware of in the way he spends them.  But for me, he has all the time (and to a more limited degree, money) in the world.  Next year, you're going to get a sound beating--in the birthday sense--my love.

FIRST DAY OF PRESCHOOL

Cadence started preschool today!  She was really excited about it, of course.  Spencer stayed home with the babies for a few minutes while I went and got her all settled in.  Her preschool is in the back of a gymnastics center and so she was really excited to see all the equipment and especially the "pit".  She got busy playing and soon was happy to say goodbye to me.

When I picked her up 3 hours later, I eagerly asked the broad, open-ended questions, "So, tell me--how was preschool!?!"
Her response was sharp and full of disdain, "We didn't learn anything."
     "Nothing?"
"We didn't play with anything.""
      "hmmmm..."
"We didn't have gummy worms for snacks, we didn't have stories, and we didn't do gymnastics." 
       "Uh, ok, what did you do?"
"We didn't do anything."
        "Did you make any new friends?"
"Yes," (Yay, I thought to myself, finally a positive answer!) "But I don't remember their names."
I tried and tried to get information out of her.  This is what I eventually got:

"I did go potty at school... a lot."

"I did jump in the pit.  But then the teacher told me to get out."

I found a handout the teacher had sent home with a poem about the "kissing hand", about how the parent kisses the kids palm and then the kid can put that hand over her heart whenever she misses the parent at school, and lo-n-behold, she had a little red heart drawn on her hand.  This was something that she loved and talked about frequently the rest of the day, and redrew and redrew and redrew the heart on her palm, all day.

And way, way later, she told Daddy that she loved the game where they got to hit the balloons up in the air.

So, I have no idea what actually went on in school today.  Is this what every day is like for a parent of a school child?  Maybe a teenager...

In anycase, she looked so cute, but  I didn't get pictures of her because we were in a big rush.  She was adorably excited and a little nervous, and she adapted quite well.  This much I do know.  And she is excited to go back on Friday, in spite of all the things she claims they didn't do.

My Soul Is Sinking...

Do you ever read the news and then wish that you could literally live in a bubble, with your family and friends, and that it would magically float away and not ever be bothered by the world again?  I don't wanna raise my kids here.

Tonight I read the news.

There's a woman in Iran who may be stoned at any moment for adultery, her lawyer says.  She was also given 99 lashes a few days ago because an image printed in the London Times of a woman unveiled was reported to be her...mistakenly reported.  AAAAh, how can this be allowed by any government?

Hey, guess what North Korea's official name is--  The Democratic People's Republic of Korea..heh...  Did you know that Kim Jong Il was a successor to the "presidency" after his father revolutionized the country?  And that now, at age 68, he is said to be grooming one of his three sons to take his place... democratic people's what now?  Oh, as a humanitarian gesture, yes, they are releasing a boat of fisherman back to S Korea...oh, they are so wonderful!

I read on and on about the world and the extremists here and there and how they are threatening peace everywhere, and how the governments in some far off lands were allowing cruelties and hatreds to abound....I started to get more and more sick to my stomach. 

And then I read this one.  And I realized that the worst place in the world might just be right around the corner, in a little (wicked) place called Florida:

General Patraeus asks a church in Florida to drop their plans to burn copies of the Koran on Sept 11, saying that such actions will only endanger our troops.  The church says their plans to burn the book that Muslims hold dear as their "Word of  God" is justified because "it is not the word of God..." .  Oh, and that it is to show that their teachings are false and pagan.

Ah, COME ON!  Is that really Christian?  Is that really going to accomplish anything?  Who exactly are you going to "teach"?  And who do you think you are helping?  Because the mere mention of burning the Koran by you rednecks has already sparked riots where our flag has been burned, and HELLO!, we've got troops over there, is it really fair to them and their families?  Spencer says, "It's like throwing rocks at a beehive but the only people that the bees can see are our troops." Yup.

And finally, thanks for making all of America look like a bunch of fools.

"We know this is not just the decision of a church. It is the decision of the president and the entire United States," said Abdul Shakoor, an 18-year-old high school student who said he joined the protest after hearing neighborhood gossip about the Koran burning.

In spite of being denied a license to hold the bonfire, and being asked by the senior-most general of our troops, the church and their idiot pastor say they will carry on with plans because they want to send a message that America says "enough". 

I felt so annoyed, and I went to read the comments, hoping somebody would have put into words just how I was feeling.... and to my astonishment, the comments went alot like this:

I plan to get a copy of the koran so that I can burn in on 9/11. Every American should. The god the muslims pray to is not my God. My God calls that god Satan. -------------------------------------------------If a person has no god, and believes you and your ilk to be insane can this person burn the bible that has influenced you ?


and this:


Lets make em so mad that they start shooting other and blowing themselves up. Someone needs to cleanse the Earth of those creedants. By the way, several churches are planning Koran burnings on the new 9/11 Koran Burning Holiday, they just haven't advertised it. I have heard of several in my area.

And this:


Face it. These ridiculous moslems hate us. They don't really need any excuses, they're gonna hate us no matter what. Burning these korans or whatever they're called is sort of putting the moslems and their backward "religion" it their place. Should be done across our great nation. Moslems are inconsistent with American freedoms, and they certainly aren't anything about "peace" or that other nonsense they like to talk about. I'd say burn as many korans as you can. Moslems hate us. They don't belong in our free country. They'll never develop to the point where they do.
 
Oh my goodness!  Who are these people?  Tell me you don't agree?  I just can't tell you how awful this makes me feel....so I guess I decided to share it and make you feel awful too...
 
Wanna join my bubble?  We're departing this earth this friday :)

My Birthday Wish...

Cadence, Campbell, Layla:

May God bless and keep you always


May your wishes all come true

May you always do for others

And let others do for you

May you build a ladder to the stars

And climb on every rung

May you stay forever young

 

May you grow up to be righteous

May you grow up to be true

May you always know the truth

And see the lights surrounding you

May you always be courageous

Stand upright and be strong

May you stay forever young

May your hands always be busy

May your feet always be swift

May you have a strong foundation

When the winds of changes shift

May your heart always be joyful

And may your song always be sung

May you stay forever young

   By Bob Dylan

The Joy and Strife of Campbell Clive

Subtitle:  Birthday Blog--Campbell Edition

Someday I may write a book about the fascinating character that is our little Campbell.  Tonight, I'll write a long over-due, long chapter.

Dear Campbell,

A month ago you had your second birthday.  We spent the day together as a family experiencing some of our brand new Arkansas surroundings.  We had a cook-out and swimming at Beaver Lake,

and then later we went to Chuck E. Cheese, which you and your sister are convinced is the most exciting place on Earth!  You had a blast and we all had fun making it your special day.

At age 2, Cam, you are a little ball of fire.  While you've mostly grown into your thighs and your head, you have managed to continue to astound, but now with feats of pure energy and exuberance.  Your curly hair and classically beautiful facial features are a funny match for your loud shouts of joy and your constant need to have your hand in a toilet or lick a new flooring surface.  People can't help but adore you and we, as your parents, have a hard time punishing for anything without laughing out loud at your over the top responses or your total nonchalance towards the trouble your are in!

Your words are coming much more quickly now.  Today you started to say "why?" to everything.  Your words aren't especially clear but there is something irresistably adorable about your diction and sentence structure.  For the last few days you've had this conversation with me a few times a day: "Mama, wha da boooogooo go?"  "I don't know, where is it, Cam?" "uh mouf (in my mouth), uh mouf, mmmm, yummy!"   Daddy loves your enthusiasm whenever you yell "YYYYEEEEAAAAHHHH!" (which is often), and one thing we hear you say probably more than anything else is "a pity dess!" , which is "a pretty dress", and you insist on wearing one at all times, but never the same one for a whole day.

When you were a baby, you would NOT laugh.  I tried and tried and tried everything I could, but you just wouldn't.  You were 10 months old when you started laughing.  Now you laugh well, and often.  You love to laugh.  You love to laugh at whatever anybody else is laughing at.  And your laugh is so contagious!  We all feel a little happier when we hear Campbell laughing.

You get into trouble fast.  fast.  soooo fast.  You break and damage like it's a part of your daily regiment.  And you are always hurting yourself.  The other day we were having dinner at some new friends' home and I turned around when I heard you say, "eye huhts, Mama..." to see you spraying Lysol in your eye!  A quick sniff of your breath indicated that you had sprayed it into more than just your eyes.  That dinner ended abruptly!  At Grandpa Clark's funeral it was impossible to keep track of you and I had several people come to me with reports of finding you in places you shouldn't be, such as standing on top of a toilet stuffing it full of toilet paper, playing with the toilet in the family/handicap restroom, opening the door to the parking lot, and judging by your diapers for the next week, sneaking a whole lot of fruit (and we'll get to why that's contraband).

Campbell, we can tell that you are only going to continue to bring joy to those around you!  We love the little person that you are and the very big personality that you have.  We are so grateful for the special touch of vigor and vim that you bring to this family.

We love you.  Truly truly.

-Daddy and Mama.

Below are two stories I've been meaning to blog about you and haven't yet.

I can't think of any clever way to preface this story, so here goes:

While we were in California this summer you just couldn't get enough of the trampoline!  You and Cadence were having a great time with Uncle John on the trampoline when I noticed that he was jumping like he had much bigger kids on that trampoline with him.  I went out and warned him that your "little bones can't take it" and to take it easy, since, even if he's careful and thinks you won't fall off, if you land too hard....

Can you guess what happened  not two minutes later?  I ran out when I heard you screaming and John helped you off the trampoline and into my arms.  I held you and tried to comfort you but you kept screaming.   John said he thought you may have hurt your knee, but I thought it must be your ankle.  We tried to ice it, which you hated.  Gramps walked in the door just a few minutes after it had happened and assumed you were throwing one of your over the top tantrums and decided to give you the Gramps treatment.  Without giving me a choice, he scooped you out of my arms and set you down and tried to have you walk with him to another room.  You, of course, collapsed.  He carried you to the couch and tried to talk to you like an adult.  He hadn't been aware that you were hurt, and I didn't realize that he didn't know. 

Meanwhile, I was asking aloud if I should take you to the emergency room and everybody agreed that I should wait to see what would come of it.  I just had never heard you scream that way.  But, having learned with my first that most emergency room visits are not pleasant, quick, or helpful, I agreed to wait.  We gave you some Motrin and Mamaw, who had just completed EMT training, wrapped your ankle and you slept like an angel.

The next morning you still couldn't stand on it, so Mamaw and I took you to an urgent care clinic nearby.  You, by the way, hate and severely distrust anybody in a white labcoat or scrubs.  X-rays, doctors everywhere, waiting, and the pain...you were not happy there.  And screamed until you couldn't anymore and fell asleep on the examination table.  So you were asleep when they told me that you had fractured your ankle bone (buckle fracture) and that you would have to be in a cast for one month.  They put it in a soft cast for the day and we would have to go get it casted the following day.

That day was supposed to be our Disneyland day (which Dad was chickening out of spending all that $$$ on anyway), so we decided to take it a little more easy and went to Knott's Berry Farms instead, which was perfect!  We figured you were going to be sitting around anyway, whether we be at home or in a stroller somewhere.  I used to say to my friends that I wanted to put your legs in braces sometimes so that I wouldn't have to worry about you running off so much, so that was sort of like a dream come true :)  Except that you were in so much pain. It was so sad to see you like that!

The next day Mamaw and I took you to get it casted.  We were able to get a waterproof cast, thank Heaven!  We chose hot pink and called it your "Barbie boot" (two things you loved) so that you would be happy about it.  And you were!  You loved it.  The first week you wouldn't move your leg at all.  No scooting, crawling, even sitting on your own was pushing it.  The second week you crawled along and got your taste for independence back.  The third week (the very day we headed off for Yosemite) you finally started walking, albeit clumsily, on it, and by the fourth week you were running, jumping, using it as a club, anything you can think of. 

We got to get it off not too long after arriving in Arkansas.  The doctor told me as he prepared to remove the cast, "now, she's going to be cross the first day or two.  She won't want to use this foot.  Just let her go at her own pace with it."   He then cut the cast off (screaming ensued), and we all watched as you climbed down off my lap, lifted your hands above your head, stood on your right foot (the one that had been broken) and spun around ballerina-style and shouted for joy.  The nurse looked at me and said, "Never mind, I don't think she'll have a problem."

The first couple of days your ankle seemed stiff, although you could dance on it just fine.  Your right leg had atrophied just a bit and it was a little clumsy. 

 Now you are fully back to normal although everyonce in a while you remind me, "Mama, uh bahbie boot off!" or "Mama, look!!!  Two shoes!!!" (because you only wore one shoe for that month.)


Here's another big Campbell thing I've been neglecting to blog about:

(Can you tell that it's getting very very very late?  I'm tired and no longer feel like creative writing)

Fructose Malabsorption--

When Campbell was maybe 6 months old I blogged about how she was such a terrible sleeper.  I spent much of her first year of life trying to find solutions to why she was such a "were-wolf":  she was so pleasant during the day but a monster in the night.  She was up twice a night, ever night, for one to two hours each time.  She would scream and scream.  I tried to let her cry it out.  I tried over and over and over again.  I tried everything I knew.  But she never did sleep through the night.  I was getting a little ragged.

Another interesting thing about Campbell was that she was famous for her terrible diapers.  She always (I mean like several times a day) had really smelly, really crazy diapers. 

Another thing was that she often got a really painful diaper rash.  One that could only be cleared up with prescription ointment, and then it would come back within a week or so anyway.

Hmmm... any adult getting acceptable amounts of sleep would have put all those things together a little sooner...

So When Campbell was about 20 months old I thought to myself, it must be her diet!!!  duh, Mard.

First I cut all dairy, and then I waited.  And waited.  I thought maybe I could see a difference.  And then one day my friend was watching her and gave her a big cup of juice, and that night I could really tell something crazy had happened....and then I thought hmmm.....

So the next day I cut fruit.  All fruit.  And that night something magical happened.  She slept.  She slept through the night!!!  (not me though, remember, I have another baby :)  )   And her diapers were normal.  And her diaper rash started to clear.  HALLELUJAH!

Now she can have bananas, and that's it.  It's been confirmed with a GI specialist that it is Fructose Malabsorption.  Like Lactose intolerance, she may or may not outgrow it. 

I just can't believe it took me so long to figure it out.  But now that we've figure it, life's much better!