A new day. A beautiful new day.

I laid in bed with my door open and inhaled that wonderful rain smell last night.  I'm grateful for the downpour Heaven sent, in so many ways.  I'm grateful for the impurities it washed away and the clean possibilities it left behind.  I appreciate the cloud cover this morning and the little bits of pink hope that hit the sky from the east.

I'm grateful for new days and deep breaths.  Today my gratitude list is long.  It includes healthy children, modern technology and medical professionals that take their jobs seriously.  It includes Seneca singing at the top of her lungs in the bathroom when she should be brushing her teeth.  And Cooper going through his morning routine with his nose in a book the entire time.  And the sleepy hug that Beckham delivered as he wandered out of his room this morning.

I'm grateful to sleep next to Denten at night and to have a sweet, healthy baby girl across the hall.  I'm grateful for phone conversations with Lindsay and to know that she is feeling all the emotions that run through my heart in a day.

The world-wide support that has been thrown at Katelyn and Wade the past 48 hours is impressive and a testament to the kind of people they are.  They give in whatever capacity they happen to be in and can't help but leave people better than they found them.  Support is flowing in from many states and countries all across the earth and it is comforting that little Whitt has the whole wide world praying for him.  I am incredibly grateful for our enormous family and network of dear friends and the love they give so freely.

I know that Heaven knows Whitt and loves him dearly and he is prepared to fight this fight.  I am guessing that he's in for a marathon rather than a sprint but I wouldn't expect anything less considering who his parents are.  He will overcome odds and conquer doubts and remind me often that my faith does much more good than my fear.  He has also taught me a lesson that I have learned again and again... that Heaven has a plan and it doesn't always line up with our own.  But we adapt and once we decide to roll with it rather than fight it, we discover that His plan was much better than whatever we had in mind.  I'm grateful for that knowledge and for Heaven's patience as I learn it again and again.

Whitt, I have cheered alongside many a race.  You gotta dig in, put your head down and just go.  At whatever pace you have left.  Baby steps forward are still steps forward and we will celebrate them with great fanfare.  We have pulled out the cow bells, buddy- we've got the signs and the pom-poms and we are cheering at the top of our lungs for you.  You got this.

Tonight I pray.

Tonight Stella was drinking her milk before bed and brought me Goodnight Moon.  She climbed on my lap and as I held my sweet, healthy baby, I cried my way through the story.  I prayed with each page that my sister will have this same experience.  I prayed that her little boy will bring her a story before bed, cuddle up and understand what she is reading.  I pray that he'll wake up at night hungry and that she will sit in the dark wishing for a little more sleep but so grateful for those peaceful dark feeding moments.  I pray that she will get to change hundreds of diapers and wash endless loads of little clothes.  I pray that his little legs will eventually run all over her house, creating a tornado, causing messes where she just cleaned them up.  I pray he will empty drawers and pull books off the shelf and race cars across the kitchen floor.  I pray that his eyes will light up when his daddy walks into the room and that he will laugh himself silly with his siblings.  I pray that he will fling food from his high chair and ask for snacks  50 times a day.  I pray that Katelyn will have the opportunity to cry her eyes out when he leaves for his first day of school, his strong healthy body ready to go meet the world.

Tonight I pray that there are extra healing angels in that tiny bed with tiny Whitt and they are convincing him that it is worth every effort to fight this one out.  I pray that there are even more surrounding Katelyn and Wade, holding them up, allowing them to breathe and sleep and maintain some sort of balance.  I pray that they can feel all the love that my heart can't contain and all the tears that my eyes keep pouring out.  I pray for clean scans and positive tests and all the right steps in the right direction.  I pray that she can hold him and feed him and kiss his sweet little face because I'm just sure that that will heal them both.  I pray that Heaven is leading each move those doctors make, assuring them that they are the right moves for this little man.  I pray that Tessa and Bode will love this little soul with all their hearts and attempt to teach him everything they know.  I pray for my mom that as she takes care of the children while her heart is with Katelyn and Wade that she will be lifted up with power beyond her own and give her strength and endurance both physically and emotionally.

I know that miracles happen and I know that Heaven has a plan.  I'm banking on those two facts.  I pray for peace.  As I tucked Stella into bed tonight, I held her a little longer, sang an extra song and didn't want to let go.  Please, please let Katelyn have the opportunity to do the same.

a house of sickies.

Last week Stella threw up unexpectedly.  And then she did it again.  No fever, fairly pleasant... strange but I was grateful it passed quickly.  Thursday night Cooper took his turn and missed school Friday.  Beckham hopped on board Saturday night and was a trooper Sunday.  I told Seneca she was not allowed to get sick.  She broke the rule and caved Sunday evening.  Denten and I made a pact that we were not going to get it.  Last night I broke the pact and frankly, today has been pretty miserable.

There are upsides.  Everyone threw up twice then was immediately on the mend.  This made things predictable and it was nice it was short-lived.  I'm grateful Denten could take my shift in Seneca's classroom today so I didn't have to cancel on her teacher.  Shellie showed up with dinner having no idea I was down and out.  Stella is about as easy as they come if you need to take care of someone while feeling like you'd rather screw your head into a vice.

As I laid in bed this morning trying not to move a muscle, I heard conversation from the kitchen float down the hall.  Seneca requested a nutella sandwich and cheddar bunnies for her lunch.  I didn't even have the energy to think about objecting to that.  Dad was in charge and she was going to make the most of it.  This was clear not only by what they ate, but by what they walked out of the house wearing this morning.  Again, it was a sign of how crummy I felt that I didn't say a word.

After school they were great about getting homework done and taking turns on the piano while trading off Stella so I could remain as still as possible.  The nausea, the dizziness, the throbbing in my head- all made me really grateful I do not carry those symptoms with me on a regular basis.  I felt empathy for those who have been through chemo, or auto-immune diseases or who suffer with severe morning sickness because that's not fun at all.  The kids played chess on the roof and volleyball on the basketball court and I thanked heaven that they were old enough to manage themselves somewhat.

Being sick is for the birds.  I hereby vow that I'll feel better tomorrow.  And feel free to pray for Denten... he's the last man standing.

Be here now.

Last week in yoga I was laying in some good-for-me but hurt-like-hell position when my teacher was talking about silencing the dialog in my head and to just be still.  She said the idea to focus on today was "be here now."  Just three little words, no big deal, right?  I was to stop thinking about what had already happened that morning or what was yet to come in my day.  And as I attempted to empty my brain of the 57,000 thoughts competing for space in there I realized that it is very hard for me to just be still.  To not think about Denten or the children at all, or the endless to-do list regarding the house, primary, PTO or my neighbor who really needs something this week... a meal?  flowers?  It was a completely quiet room and my brain was trying to catch me up on all the stuff that gets muffled in there on a regular basis.  But I was to focus on my breathing.  Let it all go and just be still.  Be present.  Be here now.  I can not say I was completely successful at this but I tried.  Every time my mind wandered back to life, I came back to my breath and tried to just be.  It's hard, you guys.

The idea of "be here now" stuck with me through the weekend and by Monday had made it onto the chalkboard in the kitchen.  It had more impact than I expected.  During our morning routine, I made an effort to enjoy the kids through breakfast and making lunches rather than hurrying them along and mentally planning my next steps so Stella and I could get out the door for a run as soon as the kids left.  I always enjoy Stella, but this week was awesome.  She is so good to play and wander while I get stuff done, but this week she helped me and we played and I tried to just "be" with her.  We read stories and snuggled before nap time and amazingly I still got done the stuff I needed to.  

After school is usually a little chaotic as the kids come home and feel loud after I've had a quiet house all morning.  I need to oversee piano with three kids and homework and reading with three kids and time it all right so no one is playing the piano while Stella is sleeping.  Someone usually needs to get to music class, or ballet, or scouts, or soccer.  And dinner needs to get worked in there somewhere- I feel like if there was just one more of me it just might work.  This week I sat down after school and read with Senny.  Just read.  I left my phone alone, told the boys they would have their turn in a minute and just enjoyed listening to what a good reader she has become.  Then I sat at the piano with Beckham as he worked out new chords and got so excited when his fingers did just what his brain was telling them to.  Sometimes I'm sitting at the piano while calling into the other room regarding homework or after-school snacks or come get Stella!  This week I was just there, fully invested in his lesson.  Cooper got his turn too and sitting with him, watching his mind work out his math problems I was so impressed with the skills he has developed to work through a problem and the strategies he uses when he gets stuck.  

Someday I'll miss this, right?  That's what they say.  So I'm attempting to be here now a little more.  I'm a planner.  I like a plan.  I like to know what's coming next and how it's going to play out and letting all that go is not natural, but planning ahead also has allowed me to just be and not be preoccupied so often with what's coming next or how it will work.  So the dinner dishes wait while I sit and read before bed. I hang out in the backyard with Stella while she goes up the ladder and down the slide 47 times in a row, laughing every time.  That can get old.  Unless you don't let it. I'm working on it.  I'm working on being here now.  

Becoming a Missionary

I've had an idea rolling around in my head ever since my dad put it there.  He tends to do that- put ideas in there that make me want to be better than I am.  The idea deals with raising boys who, in my LDS culture, are brought up to know that someday they will have the opportunity to go on a mission.  Girls have the opportunity as well and today more of them are serving in that capacity than ever before.  The idea is to change the terminology we use from "going on a mission" to "Becoming a Missionary."

Growing up, I often heard talk about "going on a mission," and it always felt like a faraway, distant thing that guys would eventually do.  There was talk of preparation, but nothing incredibly concrete.  It was kind of an abstract idea.  Now that I'm raising boys who will eventually go on missions themselves, I want it to be different.  I don't want them to approach the end of high school and suddenly be hit with the idea that they need to hurry and turn into a missionary because the time is here.  I think that is overwhelming and believe it is evident as you look at missions that deal with immature, unprepared young men who hopefully grow up quickly and figure it out, but more often become overwhelmed and either suffer through a negative experience or throw in the towel and go home.  That is not what a mission is supposed to be.

Instead of having going on a mission be some abstract thing that will happen in the future, we work now on becoming a missionary.  Both physically and spiritually.  Beckham gave a talk on this topic Sunday and considering the fact that he is five, it was pretty simple.  What does a missionary do?  They teach about Jesus, and they serve.  In order to teach about Jesus, you need to know Him.  Reading our scriptures and developing a relationship with our Savior is the best way to put yourself in a position to teach about Him.  There are opportunities to serve as a missionary would now, we don't need to wait until we are 19 years old to help those around us.

How does a missionary act?  Nice, kind, respectful.  They have beyond-minimal social skills and carry themselves with confidence.  How does a missionary look?  Clean.  They take showers or baths and they brush their teeth.  Habits my five-year-old understands and can easily find success with.  A missionary is uplifting, not critical.  A missionary follows rules, both mission rules and God's commandments.  Beckham is aware of both rules in our home and at his school and is learning that following them brings happiness and blessings and the opposite invites unwanted consequences.

Can a missionary take his mom on his mission with him?  The primary kids thought that was funny.  But if she doesn't go, who is going to cook his meals, or wash his clothes of keep his bathroom clean?  These are all skills we can learn now so that when the time comes to physically enter the mission field, it can be done with excitement and confidence rather than trepidation.  I have a few friends with sons who think of their households as mini-MTCs, or mission training centers.  They go through their days knowing that they are grooming the Lord's servants and that when the time comes for them to go, it will not be a rough transition because these boys have already become missionaries.

I believe the same concept can apply to other areas of life, like being a college student.  If we are raising hard-workers who love to learn, transitioning to college life won't be a major shock to the system.  They simply transfer the student they have already become to a new physical place- one with even more opportunity.

When I get overwhelmed at the thought that I'm responsible for teaching my children everything they need to know, this idea gives me a little peace.  I can simply focus on what I am able to do now that will help them become great missionaries.  So we read our scriptures and pray together before bed, and  they help put dinner together.  They sort and change the laundry and they wipe down the bathrooms and even if I come behind them and do it again, it's a start.

setting records

Dear Blog,

It's been four months!  That's some kind of record.  I've neglected you for a few reasons.  One is that Instagram is faster and easier.  I'm sorry if that hurts your feelings, but it's true.  Another is that while a lot has been happening, I haven't felt that I've had a lot to say about it.  But these past few days have me thinking about you again, and writing posts in my head which hasn't happened in, oh, say about four months.  Sometimes I miss writing.  Actual, real writing where my thoughts come together somewhat coherently and help me work out the jumbled mess they seem to be in my head.  So, if you'll forgive me, I may be back.  I can't promise when because you see I have a little Stella and she's quite the busy-body these days and sitting down for more than 2 minutes at a time when she's awake doesn't actually happen.  But we'll work it out.  On the docket first:  creating missionaries and a mom's body image.  Not together, of course.  Anyway, see you soon.

Love,

ABR

The Comfort Zone.

We're off to a race this weekend.  There is a half-ironman event in St. George and I will be cheering alongside my children while D races his pants off.  A year ago, this was a full Ironman event and after too many people almost died, the powers that be modified the course and declared that going forward, it would be a half.  My husband was one of those.  Remember?  Ugh.  I wasn't there as there were other things scheduled that weekend and chose those over the race.  I'm not making that mistake again.

We are all going.  There are sacrifices being made all around- dance classes, swimming lessons, a tumbling recital and a baseball game will be missed so we can be there for dad.  Because he has made sacrifices too, mostly in the form of sleep and time at home so he can be prepared.  That was my one request when he started this triathlon madness a few years ago.  I'm on board if you'll put in the time to be prepared so it's not a disaster.  Well, we've seen disasters, but not due to the lack of preparation.  He's ready.  He's strong.  He's hitting the times he wants to see and it's going to be a great race.

It's going to be great because he has created it to be such.  A friend of mine, Justin Prince, recently wrote about ambition and the idea that the only thing standing in the way of ambition is comfort.  It's the same idea that my dad has driven into us since we were little... "get out of your comfort zone."  Growth doesn't occur in our comfort zone.  Dent's ambition consistently pushes him out of his physical comfort zone in order to reach a place that is slightly higher than he was before.  It is this ambition that we will be celebrating this weekend as he swims, bikes and runs his way through southern Utah.

It is this same ambition that has my children ready for the kids race that will occur the evening before.  They want to run further and faster than they did before and are well aware that this will involve some discomfort.  It is this same desire for something greater than my present state that has me working out consistently and eating like a nazi because there is a mountain on my calendar in August and my greatest fear is not being ready for it.

We have a comfort zone in every aspect of our lives.  At work and at home we can do the same thing day after day or we can reach for a slightly higher standard.  In school, Cooper can easily do a certain number of math facts in 4 minutes, but to become a Math Master, he needs to increase the number, so he stretches outside of his comfort zone and pushes a little harder- more timed tests, more flash cards, more talking through strategy so he can get there.  In regards to my responsibility to feed my family, we have moved well out of our former comfort zone when it comes to the food we are eating.  The old standards are no more and a new level of health has been established.  One area that is easy to sit tight in is our spiritual life.  If the daily routine doesn't include time for thoughtful prayer, time for meaningful service or time for digging into the scriptures, then fitting those things in isn't comfortable- it's a push, a sacrifice.  But if there is the desire for a higher plane, a closer relationship with Heaven, a constant companionship with the Sprit, we make time and it ends up being well worth the sacrifice and the steps we took outside of our comfort zone.

The questions that have been rolling around are these:  Am I happy where I am?  My answer is yes.  Do I want more?  Yes.  Am I capable of better?  Yes.  Can I achieve the things I want and my full potential by doing what I'm doing now?  No.  What I'm doing now is great, but where I want to be is amazing and completely worth the time, energy and discomfort it will take to get there.

I'm grateful for those in my life that inspire me, that ignite my ambition and help me want to be more than I am.  My sisters probably have comfort zones, but they step out of them so regularly, I think they have grown to be massive.  My brother has been tossed out of his comfort zone a few times and responds with more strength and surety than anyone else could.  My parents believe in and support and encourage me and have always done so.  The girlfriends in my life are incredible examples of women of strength, great mothers, happy wives and daughters of God who know just what their purpose is and will not be deterred.  Denten somehow conveys two messages- one, that who I am now is wonderful and enough and two, that he believes I can achieve amazing things and he'll support me in achieving them.  And he's incredibly patient while I continue to figure out just where I'm headed.

And so this weekend, we will pray for minimal wind, comfortable temps and be confident in the fact that ambition will get Dad across the finish line... and that angels will help the rest of us be happy cheerleaders until it happens!