Shasta

I found this draft today of a post that for some reason never got posted.....Not sure why. It's a few years old (Shasta is 9 now & has gray hair on her face) but the sentiments are still the same. Sadly not much progress has been made on my part - I just keep trying.


Those who know me well know that I am not an animal person...never have been! When I relented to getting another dog I made it clear I wanted something small that wouldn't shed allover the house. Instead, I came home one night to find Shasta. She was 6 months old at the time, but was already bigger than the size dog I was thinking of. And it didn't take more than a couple days to learn that she sheds like crazy -- dog hair gets absolutely EVERYWHERE! It makes me NUTS the amount of dog hair that always seems to be in my house.

Shasta is 5 now. She tries so hard to make me to love her. She gets sooo excited when I show her any affection. I feel so bad for her sometimes. She's a good dog. Well behaved. A good protector. And she really is cute. I feel safer having her around, especially when Brian is gone at night. But it still grosses me out when she tries to lick me, and I feel the need to scrub my hands after I've pet her even a little. And the way she follows me around sometimes is really annoying. But she keeps trying.

Some days, when I see how much her hips bother her when she gets up or down, or she looks at me with those sad, sweet eyes, or walks up and plops her head in my lap, I almost want to wrap my arms around her neck and kiss her...almost. I just can't quite bring myself to go it. But she's the first dog I've ever wanted to be able to show affection to...and I hope that counts for something. And I hope somehow, as she lays at my feet tonight, she knows that I'm trying.

Life Continues

I have been about as good at keeping up a blog as I am at keeping up a journal - which is horrible, as evident from the two year gap. However, I have gotten a few promptings in recent weeks that it was time to give it a shot again. The question is, "Where to start?"

My last post was written shortly after my oldest left for his 2 year mission. He's now been home for a couple months. Much has happened in those two years: Number 1 served an honorable mission, The Girly graduated from high school & got a scholarship for 2 years at the local community college, and Stitch started high school, turned 16 and officially entered the dating world. There have been lots of laughs, tears, fun times, trials and changes - the most difficult change and trial coming just in the last few months.

My Dad died. My strong, tough, big hearted, invincible Dad....died.

He had been battling prostate cancer for nine years, but, until July, we always held out hope that he would beat it. In July we got the word that there was nothing left to do. Nothing that was slowing the rapid spread of the cancer. All we could do was take advantage of the time we had to spend with him, make sure nothing was left unsaid, and say our goodbyes. It was a blessing and torture all at the same time, as we watched him grow weaker, and more frail, and watched his pain increase.

In August we made the decision to call Number 1's mission president and have him come home from his mission two weeks early. Dad had promised him that he would be here when Number 1 returned, but Dad was burdened by the fear that he wouldn't be able to keep that promise. The relief that washed over him when his grandson walked in to surprise him, still wearing his missionary suit and badge, is a gift I am grateful we could give him. I've never seen him cry the way he did that day. It's a moment I will never forget.

The last three days and nights of his life I spent almost constantly at his side, as my stepmother, siblings, mom and I kept vigil. There was a steady stream of family and friends coming to say their farewells. We drew strength from each other as we struggled to prepare our selves for what we knew would quickly be upon us.

I prayed a lot...in my heart, throughout the days. I knew that he was going somewhere that he would be free of pain, and could finally find peace from the torment he inflicted on himself. I knew he would be greeted by loved ones. I knew this was not "goodbye", but "see you later" -- but my heart was breaking. It physically hurt to think of him not being here.

The last four hours of his life were pure agony to watch. I was certain that I would never be able to erase from my mind the sound of his tortured breathing as his lungs filled with fluid. There came a point that I had to leave the room - had to try to muffle the sound with the noise of the fan and the air conditioner in the next room. I pleaded with Heavenly Father to end it -- and when it continued, I started to ask why, what could be the purpose of prolonging it? When I thought I couldn't possibly stand another second, a thought came to my mind. The Savior felt this pain. My pain. My father's pain. The pain of all the world. He did it so that He would understand me, and what I would need to help me endure it, because He loves me. And then I thought of my Heavenly Father. How He must ache watching His children suffer through trials.  How He must have longed to flee to the farthest point in the universe to escape watching the unfathomable agony His perfect son chose to suffer for each of us. Did His heart ache far worse than mine, knowing that He could end His son's suffering, but that if He did His other children would be lost? It must have! At that moment I knew that our family was not forgotten. The Father and the Savior were keenly aware of our suffering, and were there to strengthen and to succor each of us.

I have continued to feel their love and strength in the weeks since. They bring peace to my heart, that I WILL see my father again, and that, though I can't see him, he's not far away. I am grateful to know that they love me, and know me and what I need. There have been tender mercies to remind me of their love, and to help me feel how close my father still is. I am truly grateful to my Savior, for choosing to endure what He did, and to my Father for allowing it to happen, so that if I strive to live as they ask,  I can return to live with them again some day.....And grateful to know that when my time comes, my Dad will be there to meet me, and wrap me up in one of his great big hugs.

I can do all things...

Last week I sat and listened to the General Relief Society broadcast to the women of the church. The concluding speaker was President Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the First Presidency of the church. He spoke of the flower the Forget-me-not, how simple and unpretentious it is, and how easily its beauty could be overlooked in a garden filled with larger, more intricate, and flashy flowers. Perhaps, he mused, that is where its name is derived – from a plea not to overlook it. He then tied this simple beautiful flower, with its five petals to five principals which we should strive not to overlook or forget.


Forget not:

…..to be patient with yourself

…..the difference between wise and foolish sacrifices

…..to be happy now

…..the why of the gospel

…..that the Lord loves you


He beautifully explained and expounded on each of these points, and as I took notes I felt that familiar warmth of the Spirit wash over me. At the same time thoughts flowed through my mind of events that have taken place in the last two months, and the last two years of my life…and the life of my family. As I pondered on the thoughts that came rushing in, I could see the particular importance that the principal of forgetting not to be happy now, and especially that of forgetting not that the Lord loves you have played in the last two years of my life.


The last two months have been rather emotional ones. They have been filled with highs and lows, beginnings and endings, and frightening unknowns looming before us. In the last two years, we have faced trials that I do not exaggerate in saying were some of my worst fears made reality. Trials which I was certain, if I ever had to face, would cause me to crumple under their weight and shatter into a million pieces. And for the first few days of those trials, I was sure they would do just that, but they didn’t. They drove me to me knees, pleading with my Heavenly Father to strengthen me, and guide me, and help me and my family to get through. My thoughts were filled with questions of Why this?, Why now?, and How will we ever survive this? I have not yet received answers to why (or perhaps I have just not recognized them yet), but the Lord showed me the how as He poured out peace and comfort and guidance. He provided me with the strength that I lacked on my own, and then showed me how to continue to find joy and laughter and happiness even in the midst of frightening trials. I learned for myself the truth of Phillipians 4:13 – “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.” Because I know that it is only through Him that I, and my family, not only endured, but grew as individuals, and grew closer together. Faith and testimonies were deepened. I learned things about myself, and finally found the answers to why of previous trials, because I turned to the Lord for help through these trials. I don’t know that I can say I would choose to repeat the last two years, but I am grateful for the lessons that I learned from them.


I know that with the love of my Heavenly Father and of my Savior, Jesus Christ, and with the guidance of the Spirit I can do hard things…I can face any trial…and I can find joy in even the most difficult parts of the journey.

Extended Family

What an amazing day! The chapel was filled for Christopher's farewell talk. It felt so wonderful to be surrounded by family and friends that we consider family. When Bro. Gavin from the stake high council spoke he commented that one of the best indications there is of how well a missionary will do in the field is the amount of support that he receives from home, and that based on the number of people crammed into the chapel to be there for Christopher, he would do very well. He also spoke of the amazing ward that Christopher grew up in, and the tremendous influence the people of that ward had on him. He was absolutely right about that. The interesting twist is that he assumed the ward Christopher grew up in is the ward in which we live now. He assumed that all the extra people in the chapel today were primarily our (biological) family. What he didn't realize is that most of the extra people at church today are from the ward where Christopher did most of his growing up. The ward where he started as a toddler and left as a teen. The ward that truly became family to us. Many of us have moved to other wards now, but we have stayed a family. They are the people who have had our backs, laughed with us, cried with us and been through every kind of thick and thin for the past 16 years. And they were there today, to continue showing there love and support of our family. I was overjoyed to have them all there, and grateful for the blessing of having them in our lives and helping us raise our children.


Now, so you don't get the wrong idea, and think that I am somehow dismissing the influence and amazingness of our ward now, I want to say this....It was tremendously hard to leave our last ward, we were certain we could never find another group of people as great as the ones we were leaving, but we were wrong. Bro. Gavin wasn't wrong when he spoke of what tremendous people they are. This ward too has been an incredible blessing and support to our family. We have made great knew friends, and they have been great influences on and examples to us for the past 5 years. I commented to a sister at church today that if we could somehow merge our old ward and our new ward, we would be an unstoppable force for good. I think that would be pretty darn close to heaven for me.

So sitting in church today with members of the family I grew up in, and then surrounded by members of the family I have acquired over the past 16 years, I felt overwhelmed with gratitude to my Heavenly Father for filling our life with so many people who love and care for us, for extending our family to include so many. I truly hope that in the next life we all get to live close to each other, because I can't imagine eternity without all of the people who make this life so good.

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!