Don the Gas Masks People, I'm Cleaning out the Fridge!

One time my sister told me she discovered she had been inadvertently holding her breath every time she walked by the kids' bathroom.  I laughed heartily, and thought, hmmmm, I'll have to watch out for that one.  So imagine my chagrin when I realized that I had been inadvertently holding my breath every time I opened the fridge.

To be honest, I discovered this a couple days ago.  But when the odor began to hang on, even after I'd closed the fridge and started breathing once more, I surrendered, and started cleaning the fridge.  Yes, I know, the town of Floyd is thankful that the vultures are no longer circling.

While cleaning the fridge, I ponder on the number of uneaten leftovers, and wonder why I bother sealing up the uneaten food, knowing most of it will never get eaten.  Then I look at the sheer volume of leftovers, and wonder why I bother cooking at all.

Leftover coleslaw.  Does anybody eat this stuff?  I love me some fresh slaw, but only eat it at potluck dinners.  Making--a.k.a. spooning it into a dish--and eating it at home just seems, nasty, and a little depressing.

I encounter my spaghetti sauce that I had felt so smug for adding to the Prego:  parsley, basil, rosemary, and meat fried with the same plus a fist-full of savory and other random Italian seasonings.  What resulted was a mess of flavors we had to choke down after chewing as little as possible.  I still remember my kids' poor faces when they encountered the long sprigs of rosemary.  Why did I save it?  Well, because my mother is apparently trapped in my mind.

This would be the same reason I saved a large pot of inedible potatoes salted far beyond perfection.  The mother in my mind said, "Those were expensive potatoes!  You can't throw them out!"  So I froze them until I had satisfied the voice in my head, then secretly sneaked into the kitchen one night when she must have been sleeping in a far nook of my encephalon, closed my eyes, and tossed the offensive spuds.  Where they went, I may never know.

Today as I continued rifling through the fridge, smelling potential suspects, I discovered that I had apparently created a crude sort of beer with a jar of barley water that had been sitting in the door of the fridge since last summer.  Interesting to note, it's not hard at all to make nasty smelling, fermented beverages that no one would ever want to drink!  Just ask the tomato plant that got to be the recipient of the stuff, another experiment to see if I can rid the area of some bothersome beetles and caterpillars eating my tomato leaves.  It may instead rid the area of some green bulbs that wanted to grow up to be red juicy fruits that could have gotten shoved into the back of the same fridge some day.  Only time will tell.

I end my project when the sink is full of empty containers.  The fridge may not be finished, but a full sink is the maximum of my dish-doing ambitions, a.k.a. the most my dishwasher will hold.  This tidbit of information tells you just how large my sink is, which is big enough that I was able to bathe in it one day when the water filter was stopped up, a story for another day.  It also tells you about the even larger number of leftover Gladware containers cluttering up my cold storage.

In the end, I have to bag up my trash and take it out to our deck box, where we keep our bags of trash until we can drive them to the dumpsters.  We of course don't have curb-side pick-up like those fancy city-folk in Bent Mountain.

The deck box is the third and hopefully final solution to our trash dilemma.  I used to set our bags in the garage, and Kevin would take them out each morning on the way to work.  But that attracted mice, and it was a bother to walk all the way downstairs.  So then we bought a large outdoor trash can which the wind and dogs laughed at as they knocked it over and spread the contents amongst themselves.  Finally, a deck box screwed down to a utility trailer parked behind the house was Kevin's final idea.  This one seems to work, as long as we reflexively hold our breaths each time we walk by it.  Some skills just come naturally.

Part of the reason the trash is so stinky, and cleaning out the fridge is so dreaded, is because I don't have a garbage disposal.  I have felt very sorry for myself for the past year, and often gripe and complain about this fact to anyone who will listen.  My husband refuses to install one, for several reasons I think are flimsy at best.

When I self-righteously whine about this to my friends here, most of them stare blankly, with a slight twitch of their mouths that seems to say, "I lived without electricity or running water for 3 years in the early 90's.  I think you'll survive."

And so I do survive, but often I wonder if not having this little amenity is just giving me really good practice in holding my breath every time I open the lid to the kitchen trash.

Education

I can now say honestly that I am a homeschool mom.  I have a real curriculum that I use to teach my children.  I stray from it daily, but I do use it as a guide.  I have goals, which will also have to be flexible, as unexpected issues come up. 


Kaylee, my dear little 6 year old isn't very into reading yet.  She reads very little--only 7 or so words.  She knows the alphabet song, but the visual letters allude her.  I teach her, she learns, and then forgets.  Over and over, the cycle is repeated.  When I prayed about what I should do with her this year, I got the unmistakable answer that I should homeschool her.  I am glad she is not in a setting where she is compared to other kids.  


That said, I can see that my lofty goals for this year may have to be taken down a few notches.  Yesterday I found myself fighting back tears and getting short with the kids as I fought my own feelings of inadequacy.  We moms blame ourselves when we see our kids struggling.  It's silly and illogical, and harmful in the long run.  So I have had to take this to the Lord in prayer, and ask Him to give me peace and confidence in this calling He gave me.  


I have a lot to teach, but most of all, a lot to learn.  Patience seems to be the key, which I have yet to master.  I have to learn to see the world through their eyes.   I can't just do whatever worked for me.  I have to actually KNOW my kids.  


I thought I was intuitive.  I thought I was attentive.  I thought I knew my kids from the inside out.  I spend almost every waking minute with them.  How could I not know them?  


Yet just today I have had to be honest with myself.  Do I really SEE them?  Or do I just see my own anxieties, hopes, dreams, and pride?  When my husband lovingly said me this evening that my daughter may not be the English whiz that her mother was, or even want to be, it opened up a new concept to me.  He pointed out that she could be more wired to excel at math, or science, or something other than my passion.  (I had not even considered that my daughter would be different from me.)  


He also shared with me that he developed a keen visualization talent by listening to stories as a child who couldn't read.  As a result, he is an excellent map reader, direction finder, and truck driver who can drive, park and back up trucks easily, as he can visualize the dimensions of the vehicle he's in.  (As opposed to me, who read easily as a child, yet couldn't find my way out of a paper bag, and can barely stay between the lines of the road.)  


I learned today that all of us have our own path in life, and there is a reason for it.  My way may not be the best way for someone else.  So tonight I pray for patience, peace, and understanding, that I may guide without pushing, and lead without anxiety.  My children's education is my responsibility, not their happiness.  That is entirely up to them.

Response-Ability

An ear can break a human heart

As quickly as a spear,

We wish the ear had not a heart

So dangerously near.

-Emily Dickinson

Tonight I wanted to say a family prayer, read some scriptures with the kids, and tuck them into their beds.  In my naivety, I usually imagine they want that too, because they want a perfect, happy existence as I do, right?  But often, like tonight, they don't want to think about the greater good or how stopping what they're doing in order to study and pray will help them learn self-control and greater joy in the long-run.  Sometimes they're hyped up on sugar, or their minds are running too fast, and they want and need to work off their energy both mental and physical.  Those are often the times when I find myself the most tired, and aching for some closure on the day's work.

"It's time for prayer, then we can read a story and go to bed."

"But we want to read a story now."

"No, we pray first.  It's on our list.  Prayer, then a story." 

(Kids continue to walk around, looking for books to look at.  I start to lose my composure, and I become impatient as my fatigue sets in.  Kendon wants to nurse, and I just want to pray.)

So I try a little louder,

"Come ON...PRAYER TIME.  Who's ready?  I'm counting to 5 and then you lose your story if you aren't ready for prayer;  1...2...3...4...5...  Are you ready?  Okay I'll give you one more try, and then I'm out of here."  

(Kids come and kneel down.  I begin to offer a heartfelt prayer.  In the middle of it, the kids get up again, and look for books.  As the last straw has fallen, I get up and storm out of the room, saying nothing but, "I'm done.")  

Privately, in my room, I begin the work of quenching the inner fire.  I must not allow a prayer to become a battle of wills.  I must not allow my children to determine my level of spirituality.  I'm tired, I'm worn, I've nothing left but a silent prayer for myself, by myself.

I lie down, nurse the baby, and begin to sing a lullaby, soothing my own chi and his.  He stares up at me with his big blue eyes, trusting me, depending on me, and I feel my strength of will begin to swell, and the frustration begin to fade.  I let the kids be kids, I let them be hyper a little longer, I enjoy this moment with my baby, and promise myself I will deal with the kids when I'm ready, and not before.

Later, much later, when the babe is quietly resting in his crib by my bed, I am able to deal calmly with the kids, and get them off to bed.  They will not stay put.  I give warnings that aren't heeded, the finally lock them in their room for 5 minutes.  This is done without drama, simply consequences stemming from choices. Then I give hugs and kisses, assuring them it's in their best interests to sleep.  My daughter is crying, and I smooth her hair as I tell her that I love her, and suggest to her she take the time to pray now, but I won't force it.  I leave the door open as I exit.  They fall asleep within minutes.  This is the picture of an imperfect family, struggling to find our way as we go. 

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During a trip to the Temple one month, I browsed the used book section of the church bookstore.  I found a book entitled  The Soft Reply, Ideas for Christlike Communication by Barlow L. Packer.  I fanned through the pages, and saw that a previous owner had marked key passages, and left notes in the margins, which I love, when those are meaningful to me also.  I was giddy.  Something told me that this would become a very important book to me.  I could hardly wait to get home and read it.  It is rare, but occasionally, a book can truly change my perspective and actually help me alter myself for the better.  There are a precious few books that I can say have done this for me apart from the scriptures.  This is one of them.

pg. 19 [Quote by Theodore M. Burton  Ensign November 1974, p.56] "Whenever you get red in the face, whenever you raise your voice, whenever you get "hot under the collar," or angry...know that the Spirit of God is leaving you and the spirit of Satan is beginning to take over.  At times we may feel justified in arguing or fighting... Do not be deceived... You can recognize the Spirit of Christ within you when you speak to another or speak of another person with warm smiles instead of with a frown or scowl."

Try dissecting the above quote.  Read it slowly again and again.  Pay attention to each word.  I like to stress the phrase, "warm smiles."  He is not speaking of just any kind of smile.  Not self-righteous, or triumphant smiles, not  forced, hypocritical smiles--but "warm smiles."  We can feel the difference, and so can anyone who sees them.

pg. 40  "Satan constantly seeks opportunities "to fan into a flame the slightest spark of discontent.1"  

I learned something I had never considered before:

pg.41 "Talking out an emotion doesn't reduce it, it rehearses it." (Quoting Carol Tavris of Psychology Today)

We are told in American society that anger must be released, or it will harm our psyches.  We are told that we must vent it out, or it will fester and boil within us.  We're told that if we don't tell someone, either the offender or another person, that it will stay inside us permanently.  Many of us can think of angry people who hold on to old wounds, and we mistakenly think that this is because they have not discussed it enough, or expressed this discontent in some way that they are unable to let it go.  But prophets and scriptures tell us a different truth.  The "vent your anger" lie is one of the most destructive lies that hurts humanity so many different ways.  Children, Adults, and Infirm alike, all are scarred by the fire or others' ire.

Packer quotes President Brigham Young on p.41 when asked, "Had I not better let it out than to keep it rankling within me?": Young replies, "No, I will keep bad feelings under and actually smother them to death, then they are gone...This is what I call resisting the devil, and he flees from me.  I strive to not speak evil, to not feel evil, and if I do, to keep it to myself until it is gone from me, and not let it pass my lips."

President Young is quoted again  as saying, "If you are tried and tempted and buffeted by Satan, keep your thoughts to yourselves--keep your mouths closed...If we have light or intelligence...we will impart it; but our bad feelings we will keep to ourselves."

Satan models the temper tantrum perfectly in the book of Moses 1:19, 21, 22.  He shows us the perfect example of venting anger, something Christ never practiced.  "And Satan commanded saying I am the Only Begotten, Worship Me...And now Satan began to tremble, and the earth shook...And...Satan cried with a loud voice, with weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth..."   

Hold this image up to the mirror.  This is Satan's way.  God's way is much different.

pg. 86 "In many situations a soft reply will require you to relinquish your need to defend, or convince others of you point of view.  It is so easy to lash back, but...the Savior "answered them not," and did not call down the angels of heaven to destroy His abusers...He had the power to overcome them all, but His unwavering commitment to the Atonement and the love it would demonstrate to all mankind was superior to any fleeting gratification, such as we ourselves might have enjoyed from taking a moment to "clean house" on our accusers to preserve our ego.  In the long term, it is always easier to love.  It always takes more effort to clean up after a spiteful relapse."

Let me repeat that next-to-last line for emphasis.  "In the long term, it is always easier to love."  

Brigham Young, who overcame this very weakness with which I struggle, was quoted on p. 40 giving the advice I took this evening.  "I will say, there is not a man in this house who has a more indomitable and unyielding temper than myself.  But there is not a man in the world who cannot overcome his passion, if he will struggle earnestly to do so.  If you find passion coming on you, go off to some place where you cannot be heard;...struggle till it leaves you; and pray for strength to overcome."  

Packer explains so eloquently that it is actually taking the easiest, most effortless path to simply control ourselves rather than contend.  He quotes Deepak Chopra on p.86, "When you feel frustrated or upset by a person or a situation, remember that you are not reacting to the person or situation, but to your feelings about the person or situation.  These are your feelings, and your feelings are not someone else's fault.  When you recognize and understand this completely, you are ready to take responsibility for how you feel and to change it...Responsibility...means the ability to have a creative response to the situation."

There are many examples of this in the scriptures, such as the Savior's response to the woman taken in adultery.  Packer sites (pp. 90-92) the dramatic story of Christ sleeping in the bottom of his disciples' fishing boat when a fierce storm threatens to sink them.  He is roused by his disciples, and upon his awakening, he commands the winds and the waves, "Peace, be still."

Each of us has a secret weapon against the storms that enter us when we feel our temperature rising, and our thoughts begin to turn fierce.  Sleeping in the bottom of our souls, is The Son of God, and when we awaken Him, he will rise up and say to our mind and body, "Peace, be still."   As we surrender our own desires and adopt the way of Christ, we will feel the power of refusing to surrender to Satan's way, and instead surrender our weakness to Christ.  While Satan laughs at our weakness and relishes each scar we leave behind, Christ rewards our surrender to Him with peace, confidence, and added strength for our next trial.  I testify that this is true, and is possible for me, and you.

A Family Pulling Together

Sunday, a day we usually get up, rush around, leave separately for church, arrive late, and do our best to partake in the Spirit there, which eventually fulfills us and gives us a good boost to get through the coming week.  But today was different.

This morning I got up at 6am.  I prayed, and fell into daydreaming during my prayer.  10 minutes later, started over.   I was giving a lesson to the Relief Society women today, something I'd yet to do on a Sunday.  After I showered and dressed, Kevin came in, and we got to talk a little before the kids woke up.  He was also giving a lesson today for the young men, something he'd never done as well.  We both got ready, and then he spent 20 minutes giving his lesson to me, and listening to any suggestions or input I might have.  Then I quickly got the kids dressed, he made breakfast, and we all piled in the car.  In the car, Kevin called together a family prayer, and I said the prayer before we drove away.  We got to church 5 minutes early.  Kevin got to use his priesthood to bless the sacrament during the meeting, and I was able to bear my testimony, as it was fast and testimony Sunday.  I told of how thankful I was for a husband who loved kids and me so much, and was worthy to lead our home in righteousness.

Both of our lessons went okay.  Nothing to brag about or that will be remembered for years to come, but we were happy that we fulfilled our responsibilities anyway.  We were blessed.

The kids were well behaved all day.  We cooked all our food at home.  We were happy and patient with one another.  We had no fights, no complaints, no whining, and no tension.  We cleaned together a little, did a little laundry, watched some good shows, laughed a little, and hugged a lot.

Kevin said our family prayer tonight.  Even though the kids were climbing on his back at the time, I felt the spirit of his prayer, and felt the Lord's love in our home.  He, The Lord, was helping us, and pleased with us today.

Living and loving the Gospel as a family just feels so good.  I keep saying, "today" because of course, not every day is so peaceful here.  But we "celebrate progress, not perfection."  I give thanks to the Lord today for the Gospel that gives me a greater love for my husband and children, and Jesus Christ, who helps us improve every day.

"The ultimate end of all activity in the Church is that a man and his wife and their children might be happy at home, protected by the principles and laws of the gospel, sealed safely in the covenants of the everlasting priesthood."
President Boyd K. Packer, May 2010 Ensign, "The Power of the Priesthood" p.7

Clean Home, Clean Hearts

I am sitting in a clean house.  I am aware that the tub is clean, the toilets are clean, the counters and kitchen table are all cleared and clean.  I have been reading scriptures and preparing for a Relief Society lesson since 5am, and now an hour and a half later, my cup runneth over.  I have so much to be thankful for, and the Lord is helping us in so many ways, to be happier, to have more energy, to be cleaner, and to love each other more deeply.  I wouldn't trade my family for any family in the world right now.

Last night, Kevin had a lot of office work to do, and I dutifully left him alone.  As I was sweeping for the umpteenth time that day, I heard, "RAAAAAARRR"  from my husband, and "IIIEEEEE" from Peter.  Then uproarious laughter from both parties.  They excitedly talked, and connected for just a moment, before Kevin got back to work.  It was something small, but I know meant so much to Peter.

Kaylee or Peter, (I can't remember which--give me a break, I'm a mom) said to me the other day, "I love my daddy.  He's a really good daddy.  I want you to always love my daddy, okay?"

The greatest gift I can give my children is to love their father with all my heart.  Because of Jesus Christ--because of the Gospel which helps us grow and qualify for the happiest of blessings--the scriptures which offer personal growth and understanding--because it is not on my husband that I lean, but my Lord, as I walk uprightly beside my husband, and he does the same---I do love my children's father with all my heart, and today, hold nothing back.  This is the greatest joy any mortal can experience.


Alma 27:17-18

17 Now the ^ajoy of Ammon was so great even that he was full; yea, he was swallowed up in the joy of his God, even to the ^bexhausting of his strength; and he fell ^cagain to the earth.

  18 Now was not this ^aexceeding joy? Behold, this is joy which none receiveth save it be the truly penitent and humble seeker of ^bhappiness.

At The Nursing Home

About a month ago I adopted a grandmother at a local nursing home.  She was the most despised resident in her wing.  I don't know why God put a love for her in my heart, but he did, and I suppose it was for a reason.  We've watched her steadily improve in several ways.  Each time we visit her, her stories are less gruesome and filled with self-pity.  Each time, we see her, a tiny glimmer of light shines in her face, and she  is more willing to cooperate, and no longer believes that all people are mean and cruel.  She isn't always in her right mind, but she always loves to see me and the kids, and she always knows when Monday rolls around, that we'll be coming back again.

So far, I have dragged the kids with me.  They put up with the visit, as they hid behind my legs.  Kaylee refused to go a couple of times because the smell offended her.  But Peter came, and started not to hide quite so much.

This last Monday, we got there around 3:00 in the afternoon, because at our regular time, 9:30am, she was always sleeping.  So we went when she would be more alert.  Before entering, we prayed that we would have His light to shine with us, that we may be a good influence, and help her and all the residents know that God loves them, and has not forgotten them.  AG (Adopted Grandma) was so happy to see us, she cried.  She was afraid we weren't coming, and had been hollering, and carrying on all day.  (I had tried to call, but couldn't get through.)  So I explained we'd start coming in the afternoon, when she was awake.  

She begged me for some beans.  She wanted to snap them, put them in a pot with a piece of meat, and so on.  It sounded like a reasonable request, but of course, she was in a nursing home, and had no kitchen.  I said I could bring her some green beans to eat, but later remembered they won't allow home-cooked food to be brought into the nursing home.  But that's not what she wanted anyway.  She said, "just let me do something, so I can say I had a  hand in it."  I thought about this, and I thought about just saying no, explaining she couldn't do it in a nursing home.  But instead, I started to think about how I could help her make this wish come true, at least in part.  

The kids and I went to the store and bought some fresh green beans.  Then we stopped by the house.  Peter ran to the toys, and started stuffing some in a pouch.  I grabbed some old Easter baskets we didn't need anymore, and we went back to the nursing home.  I asked and was granted permission to snap beans with AG.  We sat at a table in the common room, with dozens of envious eyes watching us.  We snapped beans with AG, whose hands are much too arthritic to do the work, and I told her that she was welcome to share these with her friends.  Many of the residents could do some snapping, as not all of them were as arthritic.  AG could see immediately that she wouldn't be able to fix any beans, but she just beamed that I'd made an effort for her.   As we were snapping beans, talking about her family and so on, Peter opened his pouch, and presented three toys to AG, who picked them up and put them in one of the Easter baskets.  She admired the toys over and over, and said what a fine boy that was.  

Peter beamed, and said with a smile, "These are for you to keep!"  He came to me, and said, "Mom, she can keep those toys!"  AG loved it!  After a little while, I explained that I'd promised to take the kids swimming, so I'd better be on my way.  She was so sweet, and said, "Well, I always say, do what you say you gonna do, otherwise, don't say it!"  She kept asking if these things belonged to her.  I assured her, yes.  As we were waiting to be let out, I was thrilled to see a crowd gather around her, as other residents admired her gifts.  For once, instead of being despised, AG was admired and envied.