Today was one of those days when everything goes wrong.  I have been two steps behind since the moment that my feet hit the floor this morning.  Best advice I could give anyone who is attempting this whole Mother gig, "Just roll with it!"

AND SMILE!

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’Twas a sheep not a lamb


That strayed away in the parable Jesus told,

A grown-up sheep that strayed away

From the ninety and nine in the fold.

And why for the sheep should we seek

And earnestly hope and pray?

Because there is danger when sheep go wrong:

They lead the lambs astray.

Lambs will follow the sheep, you know,

Wherever the sheep may stray.

When sheep go wrong,

It won’t take long till the lambs are as wrong as they.

And so with the sheep we earnestly plead

For the sake of the lambs today,

For when the sheep are lost

What a terrible cost

The lambs will have to pay. 6

C. C. Miller, “The Echo,” in Best-Loved Poems of the LDS People, ed. Jack M. Lyon and others (1996), 312–13.

Happy Moments

     Today was one of those days that you soak in like the sunlight on a warm day in early Spring.  We spent the afternoon putting together a porch swing for our front yard.  The weather was perfect and there was a cool breeze that excused  the increase in humidity.  The kids were laughing together and being silly as our seven pound teddy bear of a dog sat like a guard dog, threatening all of the people who passed by.  Even in my irritation at his barking I couldn't help but think it was cute how loyal and protective he is toward our little family.  Rachel sat on our bench stroking his fur, her long brown hair blowing in the wind.
      Adam swelled with masculine pride as he helped his Daddy with the "building."  He read the directions and studied the diagram and bent to gather tools and screws.  He scrunched up his nose and pursed his lips as he concentrated on the great task at hand.  His big blue eyes sparkled in the daylight.  Claire busied herself with whatever two-year-old chore she could sink her fingers into.  She giggled and trotted around the yard in her brand new white sandals.  The girls pranced around the circle at the end of our cul-de-sac donned in fancy skirts made of bubble wrap that floated elegently toward their ankles.  I sat smiling to myself as I watched my boys bonding over tools and my little girls bouncing around in their innocence.
     After the swing was finished, all four children and a dog piled onto the swing in pure contentment.  Overwhelmed by the sight of them all in such close proximity, hapily overlapping in both body and chatter, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pure joy.  At that moment Rachel looked up at me and said, "Mom, since we are having a happy moment right now, can we have a rice krispy treat?
   I love that even she recognized this happy moment.  I am blessed by happy moments like these. 
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Picking up the Shovel

     I have been in a major rut.  This is one of the worst ruts I have been in for a long time.  I just can't seem to get myself out of it.  I have been hating my duties lately.  As I gathered the laundry from each of the bedrooms in the house I could feel the anger well up inside of my chest!  It just feels like I will never reach the summit!!  I keep climbing and climbing and every day I get knocked back down several hundred feet.  I have been getting discouraged and have lost all of my motivation.  As I was vacuuming the small hallway between my entry way and my bedroom today I remembered a story that I had read. 
  
  During the depression, a man had lost his job.  He had been searching for work to no avail.  Finally, he came to a job sight and just picked up a shovel and started digging.  The foreman came to him and said, "Sir, I can't afford to pay you for your work."  The man looked at him and said, "I don't care if I get payed, you see, I have to work."  Day after day the man came to work for no wages.  After a period of time the employer appreciated this mans work ethic and hired him. 
 
  The thing that really speaks to me in this story is that the man recognized that he needed to work.  There are many reasons why we work and only one of those is to get payed.  Good. honest, hard, work makes you feel good inside.  We were made to work.  I think that our society has become so conditioned to desire only ease and entertainment that we have forgotten the true value of hard work. 
     I have been looking at my life from the wrong perspective.  I am never going to reach any certain destination in my line of "work."  No matter what, I am going to wake up to a full workload each new day.  It is not so much in the completing of the work but in the work itself that I need to take pride.  I just need to pick up my shovel and dig in.  I may not "earn a wage" for my work that day, or complete the task at hand, but I have worked long and hard and for that I can be satisfied.   

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My Reality

Ever feel like this??

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A Trip down Memory Lane to Grandma Irvin's House

     We would all pile into the family mini van, usually on our way out of town.  We could never leave without making a visit to our Great Grandma Irvin's house.  With both sides of the family living only a couple of miles away from one another in the small town of Farmington New Mexico, our trips were always jam packed.  As the car slowed to a stop the seatbelts came flying off and we stumbled out of the car, usually exhausted and arguing with one another. 

     Standing at the front door to greet us was my Great Grandma Irvin with her face wrinkled into a smile.  She gave the tightest hugs; my face crushed into her chest and scraped against her glasses that  dangled from a chain around her neck.  We were invited in to her small entry area where she hung dozens of photos with nothing but love and a little scotch tape.  "This is your Uncle Sam's daughter, Angie, and her two babies and aren't they just getting so big!"  "Uncle Robert come down the other day to see me and he brought me . . ." her voice trailed off into the Living area as we all made our way to the sofas.

     My Grandpa Buck sat in the recliner chair next to the window.  He'd lean forward to hug me and my face pressed against the rigid edges of the wallet that he kept in the pocket of his shirt.  I'd glance at the old box TV that sat lifeless on the floor.  I can never remember a time that it was on or in working condition.  Grandma always got out her old marble game and set it on the floor for us kids to occupy ourselves while the adults circulated around the room to look at all of the new photos that Grandma had received.  As I got older I joined the parade around the room.  The photos were both old and new, framed and unframed, some even leaned up against the frame or were inserted into the outside lip of the frame.  Some were labeled correctly and some were not. Some of the great-grandkids were even placed with the wrong parent or family grouping.  We smiled to ourselves and overlooked the mistakes.  Grandma was so proud of her family, of that there was no doubt. 
    Updates from the family and old stories filled the air as my siblings and I shuffled through the glass candy dish next to Grandpa.  He always smiled at me out of the corner of his eye while I separated all of the strawberry candies from the butter scotches and the mints. Among my favorite memories of Grandma's stories is the way that she would laugh when she remembered the year that there was a fire in her house and she moved the family into the chicken coup until they could afford the repairs.  She laughed and smiled as if it weren't a tragedy at all but a sweet memory of happy times. 
     Grandma's pantry was always filled with all of the things that a kid could dream of, however, most of them were stale.  Her refrigerator held flat soda pop and we drank it through a straw.  We would eventually make our way out to the backyard.  There was always a cool breeze and metal chairs with rust spots.   I can remember bird feeders and tomatoe plants. 
     Of course our trip would not be complete without a trip down to Grandma's cellar.  She had Grandpa dig a whole in the ground under their bedroom closet.  She removed a piece of carpet from the closet floor and there was a hatch and a ladder that lead to the celler.  The dirt floor was cool and it always smelled of a musty clay.  There were shelves full of canned foods.  Grandma had an impressive amount of food storage but it paled in comparrison to the chambers that held it.   
     Our visit always ended with a tear in Grandma's eye and a "You come see me soon!" or "You comin' to the reunion this summer?"  She really was the quentessential Grandma.  As I got older I came to understand a little more about my Grandma.  She was always going to lunch with a friend or working at the Family History Center.  She lived her entire life in her own home, she took pride in doing things for herself, and she maintained her positive energy until the end of her life.  She had a love for life and a love of her family that is unmatched.  I hope to be just like her.  Love you Grandma.  Miss you!

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