Working on Cleaning the Windows

I got a couple of wake-up calls this week and have been doing some self examination. Not always a fun thing to do.

The first came last Saturday while listening to a talk given by President Thomas S. Monson, president of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. He opened by telling a story of a newlywed couple. Every morning the young wife would comment on the dinginess of the laundry being hung out to dry by the neighbor across the street. She would tell her husband that she didn't now how the neighbor was washing her clothes, but that she would be ashamed to hang out such dirty laundry. Then one morning as she looked out to see the neighbor hanging beautifully bright, clean clothes out on the line. She mused outloud about who must have finally taught the woman to launder the clothes properly. The husband then responded that he had gotten up early that morning, gone outside .... and washed the windows.

President Monson went on to admonish us not to pass judgement on others without first making sure that our own windows are clean. I've pondered a lot on that talk this week. As much as I like to tell myself that I try not to pass judgement on others, if I'm truly honest with myself, I know that I'm not as good at that as I'd like to think, especially when it comes to my siblings. Don't get me wrong, I love them all very much, and I'm proud to have grown up in the family that I did, but I'd be lying if I said I have great relationships with all my siblings. Sometimes our views on things are quite different. There have often been times I haven't agreed with choices they make or ways they choose to live their lives. I thought I did a better job of hiding those feelings than I evidently have, and have inadvertantly strained relationships with siblings. I don't take all the blame for tenuous relationships, we've all done our share of damage, but I'm finally admitting that I am not as blameless as I liked to think. I hope that's the first step to making things better. I'm not sure yet what the next step is, but I'm sure if I keep pondering and listening, the Lord will help me figure it out.

Another of my faults came clearly to the forefront this week. I nearly lost a friendship, at least I hope it was only nearly lost, and that we're on the path to fixing it. I have a tendency to get tunnel vision in my life, and not think about or notice things, or people, that don't directly and regularly cross my path. Or I think of them at times when I can't stop and call to let them know they are thought of. Pretty sad really. My tunnel vision kept me from seeing the struggles of a friend and left her feeling abandoned for a few months. Thinking about it all this week I'm sure that my tunnel vision has impacted my siblings and parents as well. Again, I hope that recognizing the problem is the first step in fixing it, and that the Lord will help me figure it all out.

It's been a little more self-realization than I was expecting this week. And it's left me feeling a bit drained....but also hopeful. Cleaning windows has never been my favorite job, but it sure will be nice to look through clean windows when they're done.

The Best Day of the Week

I LOVE Sundays! I love going to church! Friends who aren't Mormon look at me like I'm nuts when I tell them we go to church for 3 hours every Sunday, but it's the best three hours of the week. I love being able to take the sacrament, to ask forgiveness for my missteps during the week and start fresh. To be reminded of what is truly important and recommit myself to try a little harder to be little better in the upcoming week. I love feeling the Spirit, hearing the testimonies of others, and participating in discussions about the gospel. I love it when something, some point of doctrine that seemed a little obscure before, suddenly comes into focus because the teacher or another member of the congregation explains it from a different perspective than I've heard before. And I love the feeling of support and fellowship that I get from being around others who believe the things that I do.  I feel the difference in my week when I miss church and the uplift to my spirit that I get there.

Today in Sunday School we discussed Job and his unwavering faith in God, even when he had lost everything. His lands and wealth are gone, his children are dead, his wife is telling him to curse God, his friends have deserted him, and his skin is essentially rotting and yet he says: "Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him: but I will maintain mine own ways before him.  He also shall be my salvation: for an hypocrite shall not come before him." (Job 13:15-16)  His life couldn't be any worse, and yet he holds firm to his faith. He refuses to curse God for the misery that he is in, because he KNOWS that one day he will stand before God and have to make an accounting of his life, and he refuses to face God as a hypocrite who did not live with the faith he professed. What an incredible example. It made me think about how well I live the things that I profess to believe. I want the faith and conviction of Job...to be able to say that when the time comes for me to face my Heavenly Father, that a hypocrite shall not stand before Him. I have some work to do.

Found: The Middle of Nowhere

While on our way to San Diego,  Stitch gets a text from his cousin: Where are you guys?

Stitch replys: You know that "middle of nowhere" that people talk about?

Not five minutes later we see a billboard on the side of the freeway, 1/2 mile before the Sentinel Rd exit:

Sentinel Exit

Historic Sites

Middle of Nowhere

No Joke!

Twenty Wonderful Years

When we met I was 20 years old and had just finished my third year of college... he was barely 18 and finishing his senior year of high school.  We started dating shortly after he graduated.  I caught a lot of flack from my friends for robbing the cradle, but I'm glad that didn't sway me.

Three years later we married.  I felt no fears or doubts that day...just perfect calm and assurance that I was marrying exactly who I was meant to...my perfect match.  I have been grateful every day since that Heavenly Father brought him onto my life.

Truthfully, I often wonder if I really deserve him. He is often far more thoughtful than I. I am especially  grateful for the laughter that he brings into my life, daily, and the fact that 20 years, 3 kids and ? pounds later, he still looks at me like I'm a hot 20 year old.

He's a very good man...and I love him with all my heart!

Bunches and bunches...forever and ever...promise.

Mother's Day

I have been sitting here for half an hour just staring at the computer screen. It's Mother's Day...and I want to pay tribute to my wonderful mother. But how on earth do I ever put into words just what she means to me?  Growing up she was everything to me. I always knew that I was loved beyond measure. I knew that, no matter what I did, her love was unconditional and unwavering. I could talk to her about anything and everything...and I did.  She always seemed to sense when I needed a friend, and when I needed a mom. 

         When I was 10 or so, and we were living in Illinois, I started recieveing monthly gifts and cards from a Secret Pal. I even received a few after we moved to California. I'm surprised I never recognized her handwriting at the time, but several months after the gifts stopped, as I was looking for something in one of her drawers, I found a couple leftover Secret Pal cards.  I didn't tell her that I had found them. She had meant it to be a secret and I didn't want to spoil it.  I have tresured those gifts even more though, because I knew they came from my sweet mother, who wanted to do something to make her daughter feel extra special. 

I loved the days when she would come into my room in the morning to wake me up, and then tell me that I didn't look well, and that if I didn't have any test or papers due at school I should probably stay home and rest.  Ofcourse, we never rested on those days. That was Mom's code for "You could use a mental health day and some shopping therapy." 

I loved hanging out with my mother...I still do!  She's fun and funny, and still one of the best listeners and sounding boards, personal cheerleaders and friends any girl could ask for.  No one could ever accuse her of being selfish or unwilling to sacrifice for her family.  She set the perfect example of unconditional love for her children.

I am proud to be her daughter.  I am grateful for the countless lessons that she taught me on how to be a good mom and a good person.  She deserves so much more praise than this little blog post and my meager skills with words can express.  I have truly been blessed to be raised by such a wonderful mother.

Heaven's Rejoicing

I got to spend some time at the temple on Saturday. It was peaceful and calming, and a much needed boost to my spiritual batteries.  We were there to be with two wonderful young friends as they went for the first time. As we stood in the celestial room, gathered in a half circle with their family and other friends, waiting to greet them and embrace them as the walked through the door, the thought came to me, "This must be what heaven is like."  All of your friends and family, gathered and excited to know that you're coming. Waiting to embrace and welcome you home.  I wonder who will be in my circle. Will they all be faces that I know, or will there be some ancestors that I haven't met?

Yesterday, we got a call that a friend in our old ward had died.  He was a truck driver. He hadn't checked in with his wife Saturday night and by Sunday afternoon she was beyond worried.  She and some friends contacted the police and several hours later they located his truck, parked at a truck stop in Kansas City. He had died sometime during the night. I thought of that circle in the temple again, and wondered about the one waiting for him.  I attended a funeral during my first year teaching for the mother of one of my students. She had had a long battle with cancer.  One of her children wrote a beautiful poem as tribute, and the last line has always stuck with me, "Heaven's rejoicing because Daria's back."  Do you suppose they make a big announcement when someone is returning, or does word just quietly make its way to all who would want to know?  However it happens, I'm sure there was rejoicing in heaven when they learned Doug was coming.  He's a good man, who will be dearly missed here by many.

If you can read this, thank a teacher.

Teachers are amazing people. (And though I am proud to be one of them, I'm not trying to toot my horn) I've just been amazed at how much they will go out of there way to not only help their students, but to help each other.  I have gotten an amazing amount of support from the teachers I work with as I've struggled to get my feet under me this year. And I've been amazed to see how generous and giving this group of incredibly underpayed individuals can be.  They are constantly reaching into their pockets to help others in need.

This week I was twice the recipient of teachers helping another teacher to supply her classroom.  Two days ago I was given a very large box of math manipulatives, much needed in my classroom. I was told to take whatever I needed and pass along the rest. Today I was at a yard sale rummaging through a huge collection of books, obviously from a classroom library. The mother of the woman holding the yard sale saw my excitement and asked if I was a teacher. When I replied yes, and that I am working on building my library she told me she was sure her daughter would give me a deal.  She did.  She handed me a good size box, told me to cram in all the books I could....fill it to overflowing...and she would sell it to me for five dollars.  I was thrilled! I just went from having only one shelf on my two shelf bookcase full, to having to ask for a bigger bookcase on Monday!!

The teachers I know and have worked with have proven to me over and over again that it takes a special breed of person to teach. You won't get rich or famous being a teacher. You may never recieve the appreciation and accolades you deserve. You'll put in long days and often take work home with you and never see a stitch of overtime pay. You'll be ignored, disrespected and even yelled at by some students and parents.  You have to teach because you want to make a difference in a childs life, whether that child or his/her parents ever recognize that difference. You do it for those times when you see a child actually learn, and get excited about learning....for the handmade cards and pictures...and the association with amazing people. There are days I wish I never had to go back to work, and days I think I have the best job in the world. But everyday I am grateful for the people I work with. I learn from them constantly. They are the best!

Frailties of the written word

     Written text can be an amazing thing. When crafted well it can take us to places we've never been... evoke great emotion...completely captivate us.  However, even the most gifted wordsmith  cannot completely control the interpretation of his words. Each reader takes from text differently, based on what experience, belief or predjudice they bring to the table.  Which is why two readers can have very different experiences with the same piece of text.  No matter how talented the writer, there is always room for interpretation.

     Unfortunately this can make the written word a very flawed method of communication. Especially for those of us who are not especially gifted with the medium.  Readers cannot hear the inflection or tone of voice of the writer. Cannot see their facial expressions. As a result things may be read into a text that never existed in the mind or heart of the writer. Inaccurate assumptions can be made and offences taken that were never intended.  What seems obvious to one reader...completely unseen by another. 

     So we must be cautious when using text to communicate. Cautious that the text we use is not overly sarcastic, or vague...unless we are certain that the reader knows us well enough to understand our intent, or give us the benefit of the doubt and ask for clarification if they are uncertain. As readers we need to remember that we cannot make hasty assumptions about what we read. We need to be slow to take offence, and willing to extend the benefit of the doubt until we can ask and learn whether our assumptions are accurate. If we don't we run the risk of damaging, or even ending, relationships for reasons that exist only in our own hearts and minds and not those of the writer.

I found more time.

I figured out how to get that extra time I want, that I blogged about back in November (Can I have a day?). Apparently all I have to do is start working at the 99 cent store. :0)