Our Christmas Blessing

A few years ago, Nate was invited to bring our family to serve at the St. Vincent de Paul's Homeless Shelter on Christmas day.  Each year, the LDS church has donated steaks for Christmas dinner and Little America graciously prepares them for the Christmas feast (that's how we got in on the party).  Initially, I was hesitant.  Christmas day had always been a protected, private family day.  My littlest was (and still is) very shy and some of the chicks were still quite young and I wasn't sure how they would react to this new environment.  After discussing the pros and cons, we decided to embark on this new Christmas adventure, and it really has become a highlight for our family (except for the shy youngest).  Depending on the year, we set tables, clear tables, and give out donations such as hygiene kits, socks, blankets, clothing, and a few toys.  St. Vincent's mostly serves men, but a few families join in when word gets out that steaks are being served. :)

We love starting out the afternoon being welcomed by our friend, Pamela Atkinson, a wonderful advocate for needy friends in the valley.  A gracious and kind woman, Pamela works tirelessly to provide for countless strangers day after day.

Pamela calls on a volunteer to offer a prayer.  These are some of the good people we pray with:

News cameras like to come because 1. There's not a lot of news on Christmas day and 2. John Huntsman shows up with his family.  They are always looking stylish.  We've loved working with the Larkin family at the bottom.  Spencer is a nephew of our brother-in-law, George, and he and Twig are so awesome with their kids and gather tons of donations.

So here comes the plug!  If you live in south Davis County and are looking for a way to serve your community this Christmas, please consider donating.  I leave a bucket on my front porch through December and you can swing by and drop anything in it.

 If you run to the store and have a couple of extra dollars to spare, the needed items are new warm socks (not cotton), new dark ski hats, new gloves, and especially thermal underwear.  Every year, the thermal underwear is the first to go!  In Utah this December we have already had 2 casualties from hypothermia in Salt Lake City.  Each of these items will help shield a homeless friend from the bitter cold. 

 

This package of socks sells at Walmart for $9.00.

 

These thermal pants sell at Walmart for $8.96.

 

 

This hat is priced between $2.99-$9.00 on Amazon.

 

These insulated gloves are $7.99 online at Cabela's.

 

 

If everyone contributed an item or two, we could make a lot of good folks warm this Christmas! 

Comment with your email address if you need my address for donations.  We will accept donations until Christmas afternoon when we head in to see Pamela and company, but if you live south of Salt Lake City, you can drop off donations to the shelter anytime up until Christmas at 427 W 200 S, SLC(across the way from the Gateway Mall). 

 

 

Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.

 

I'm incredibly grateful for this opportunity to step out of our cozy home and show the true Christmas spirit of giving each year.  Thank you for this blessing, Pamela!

 

 

 

Merry Christmas!

 

What's in a name?

One of my favorite writing classes of last year's series was on names.  I had never thought that writing about my own name would be an asset to my personal history.  Mrs. Bean shared an excerpt from the book: The House on Mango Street by author Sandra Cisneros:

In English my name means hope.  In Spanish it means too many letters.  It means sadness, it means waiting.  It is like the number nine.  A muddy color.  It is the Mexican records my father plays on Sunday mornings when he is shaving, songs like sobbing.

It was my great-grandmother's name and now it is mine.  She was a horse woman too, born like me in the Chinese year of the horse-- which is supposed to be bad luck if you're born female-- but I think this is a Chinese lie because the Chinese, like the Mexicans, don't like their women strong.

My great-grandmother.  I would've like to have known her, a wild horse of a woman, so wild she wouldn't marry.  Until my great-grandfather threw a sack over her head and carried her off.  Just like that, as if she were a fancy chandelier.  That's the way he did it.

And the story goes she never forgave him.  She looked out the window her whole life, the way so many women sit their sadness on an elbow.  I wonder if she made the best with what she got or was she sorry because she couldn't be all the things she wanted to be.  Esperanza.  I have inherited her name, but I don't want to inherit her place by the window.

At school they say my name funny as if the syllables were made out of tin and hurt the roof of your mouth.  but in Spanish my name is made out of a softer something, like silver, not quite as thick as sister's name--Magdalena-- which is uglier than mine.  Magdalena who at least can come home and become Nenny.  But I am always Esperanza.

I would like to baptize myself under a new name, a name more like the real me, the one nobody sees.  Esperanza as Lisandra or Miritza or Zeze the X.  Yes.  Something like Zeze the X will do.

What a beautiful piece!  I love how you get a sense of spunk and personality from the author.  I love the way her name relates to a relative, and how she connected with her great-grandmother.  I had never thought about writing about my own name.  Maybe you should think about your name and write about it!  Here are a few questions you could answer:

Are you named after someone?
Do you like your name?
Who named you?
Do you have any nicknames?
What about a married name?
Do you associate anything with your name?

When I look back at my siblings, I already know a lot about their names.  My brilliant sister, Heather, didn't like her name because she thinks it's an airhead name, so she uses her initials, HC, as a published author. Tad liked his name-- President Lincoln had a son Tad, and it is a pretty cool, unusual name.  Jane was always sad that she didn't have a middle name and she thought her name was too plain.  If I know that much about my siblings' names, I'll bet you have some thoughts about yours, even if you haven't thought about it before.  Here is a rough draft of a piece I wrote about my name (s):

What's in a Name
My Mom chose my name, so my Daddy said.  Daddy said he wanted to name me Annie Laurie, but Mom won out, and Laurie Anne (with an E) it is.  Mom said I was named after her friend, Laurie Hansen, but I never met her.  As a little girl, I imagined she was pretty and blonde with a friendly smile.

I didn't notice how many people had problems pronouncing my name until I was in 2nd or 3rd grade and the cute Studdert boys moved in next door.  When Steve and Bonnie started calling me Lori, I got that fingernails on the chalkboard feeling, and suddenly it became important to remind everyone that my name was pronounced "La-rie, like la la la la."  Til the day she died, my own grandma called me Lori, and many people (including the Studderts) still call me Lori today.

I felt special growing up when my Daddy called me "Muffin" because it was the cutest nickname in the house.  When I got older, Daddy gave me a new nickname--"LA."  I didn't know many kids who had a baseball team  named after them, so I felt doubly cool.  I signed my initials on everything just like the LA Dodgers, knowing I was pretty hot stuff.

In junior high, the kids started looking up name meanings and I followed suit.  "Laurie" is derived from the laurel leaf.  "Wow," I thought.  "How boring!"  My name was from a plant?!  However on my 16th birthday, a friend gave me a keychain with my name and its definition.  Laurie means "WINNER" it stated.  A-HA!  I should have felt flattered by its meaning, but instead, I felt awkward and embarrassed.

Around the same time, one of my friends abbreviated me, not just my name.  Overnight, I was Lar.  The great thing about the name Lar is that it is spelled just like it sounds (even if it doesn't sound lovely)!  I can't think of many things more charming than a capital L, so even if Lar is harsh, it retains its beauty.  Lar fits me.  It is practical and to the point, with a spot of flourish.

During the 90's, I stepped into the era of technology and gave myself a new name: my email address.  As a young mother of three, I knew it was fitting to combine my identities and I became mamalar.  I didn't know then how well this name would stick.  Through years of volunteering, church service, and social networking, I am mamalar to many young people which makes me smile! My children have decided this will be the name their children will one day call me.

Before I knew it, cell phones entered my world.  One evening, Nate invited me to escort him to a business meeting.  Feeling bored and lonely as he wrapped up his affairs, I decided to attempt to navigate his new phone.  I found the contact list and thought it appropriate to give myself yet another name; one to surprise him and make him smile.  A few weeks later, I answered the house phone to a chuckling husband.  Earlier in the day, I had called him during a meeting and a coworker saw my contact information as his phone rang.  "Sugarpants?  You put your name in my phone as sugarpants?  Nate asked giggling.  I wanted to make him laugh.  It worked.

Do I like my name?  Yes, and no.  But do I love my names: Laurie, Anne, Muffin, LA, Lar, mamalar, and sugarpants?  Indeed I do.  They are me, ever changing through this thing called life.

I like to think that thirty years from now, one of my grandchildren will learn something interesting about their grandma when they read the finished piece.  Grab your pencil or laptop and start writing!  Today. 

Sick

In the last blog post, I mentioned how surprised I am when Nate is called out of town for emergency response and the kids get sick.  I made it through 9 days of single parenting before the sick bug came to town.

Once I've adjusted to Nate being gone, I start making crazy plans.  Paint the bathroom!  Dejunk the laundry room!  Organize the gift wrap!  Deep clean the pantry!  These ideas become my mantras for the duration of his absence.  Then the sickness sneaks in.

Every child has their own sick personality.  There's the whiny child who demands fresh cold water and a compress every five minutes-- the one who can never be comfortable and constantly beckons from the couch.  There's the sleeper-- the easiest of the bunch, who tends to curl up and sleep the fevers, the coughs, and the sore throats away.  Then there is Jeffrey.  He's the quiet one.  He basically shuts down and becomes a couch potato.  He rarely sleeps, just sits in a daze.  He doesn't want medicine, and he doesn't want me to leave his side.

Usually when this happens, I get a little bitter because I was looking forward to ACCOMPLISHING something.  I was thinking I might be able to get a chunk of Christmas shopping out of the way and have the house tidy and exercise a lot while Nate was gone.  Ha ha.

I think this time, it's been a wake up call on where my priorities should be.  As a mother with young children, days were spent coloring and crafting and reading together.  Because Jeffrey is the youngest, he doesn't get that kind of Mom time like his siblings did.  So for the past 6 days, we've done

puzzles,

 

(Croup sometimes deserves a good breathing treatment)

 

and art,

 

 

and snowflake making.

 

 

 

Chances are when Nate gets home, the coughs and fever will be long gone.  My Christmas shopping isn't done and my house isn't tidy enough, but at least my little Monkey boy and I will have lots of memories of sleepovers and snuggles that got us through a long couple of weeks.

 



They do grow up fast!  Next time Nate leaves, please remind me of a new mantra : Love them, Love them, Love them.

 

The spouse of Superman

Nate was assigned to Emergency Response for the LDS Church in the summer of 2005, while he was serving as a Bishop.  His previous job was in International Logistics with Deseret Transportation, so I knew to a degree what his new assignment entailed.  Because ours is a worldwide and welfare-oriented church, when disasters strike, we come to aid.  In trying to become like Jesus Christ, we do what we can to be like him, and that means reaching out to those in need.

Sometimes with large disasters, Nate is called away.  Sometimes he stays here and works from his office.  Much of it depends on how established the Church is in an area, and how much relief aid is requested and needed.  Here is the process for disasters for the Church:

1. Assess.  How many missionaries and members affected?  Are they safe?  How many buildings are affected?
2.  Report.  Ward and Branch leaders report to Stake and District Leaders, who report to Area Welfare Specialists and Directors of Temporal Affairs, who report to headquarters and the Presiding Bishopric.
3.  Conference.  Oft times this is done over the phone, as disasters cover many time zones.  Local leaders make requests to serve the needs of their areas.
4.  Proposals.  Emergency Response puts together plans including items needed to be purchased, items used from storehouses, where to purchase items, how they will be shipped, how much it will cost, when it will arrive, and who will distribute.
5.  Initiate.  Once the plan is in place and approved, make it fly, and quickly.

This is obviously simplified, leaving out a lot of details.  The Church partners regularly with other relief organizations throughout the world including the Red Cross, Catholic Charities, Islamic Relief, UNHCR, Salvation Army, and others.  Nate has served as a representative of the Church in VOAD (Volunteer Organizations Active in Disaster) for the state of Utah, nationally, and Internationally.  VOAD is an organization that allows many charitable organizations (many of them faith-based and non-profit) to become acquainted and develop relationships so that when calamities come, they can work together efficiently.  The global humanitarian community is wonderful and the outstretched hands from around the world compliment and lift each other.

(the previous paragraphs pretty much sound like a middle school report... sorry about that!)

I like to joke with my kids when they ask "What is Dad doing?" and my response is "Saving the world, one phone call at a time." Neighbors ask, "How's Superman?" I laugh.  Yes, I am married to Superman.  One minute he is in his shirt and tie, the next, he is flying off to save someone.  We are lucky to have Nate as the head of our family: daily showing what it means to selflessly serve.

But I knew I was married to Superman long before Nate worked in the LDS Welfare department.  He was the one pulling over on the side of the road to help someone with a flat tire and getting home late for dinner.  He was the one sneaking out on early Saturday mornings to plant tulips for his mom, or get groceries while I slept in.  He was the one taking truckloads to the dump for the neighborhood, and staying after church to fold up all the chairs.  I should have realized when we got married he wouldn't continue working for the family mortgage company, or pursue International Business as planned.  Silly me!

The years have taught me a lot and I'm often asked how I feel about Nate heading out.  It finally dawned on  me that I am living what thousands of spouses live day after day, year after year.  The spouses of our armed forces go through many of the same emotions I have, but it is far more dangerous and usually spans a LOT more time.  The longest Nate ever goes is less than 3 weeks, and these awesome troops go out for months, even years, at a time.  Wow.  They deserve all the respect and gratitude we can give them!  And their families deserve it as well.

It's difficult to articulate how I feel (and I'm sure others feel) when my Responder heads out, but I'm going to take a crack at it, for posterity's sake.  Here it is (to be the spouse of Superman).

LOVED we have great talks on the phone and email when Nate is gone, and he always tells us he loves and misses us.  He always wishes I could join him, and so do I.  Someday!
REASSURED  The Spirit always helps me feel that Nate will be safe.  I think if he is going to be doing the Lord's work, he will be protected.  It might not be ideal, but he will be ok.
TIRED When Nate goes out of town, everyone wants a turn in my bed, and Jack (our mini-Australian shepherd) likes to sleep on my feet.  Good times.
DISJOINTED  It feels like half of me is here, and the other half somewhere else.  Have you ever seen Star Trek?  I kind of feel like this:

I felt that way a little bit when Joe was serving a mission, and when Anne was studying abroad in Jerusalem.  It's a strange feeling.

SAD Once Nate is out working, he relays stories of terror and destruction.  It is always worse in person than what you imagine.  After we talk, it's hard to go through the day without feeling a little heartbroken for the sweet people who have been affected.  Whether those people are from Pakistan, New Jersey, Japan, the Philippines, or Texas, these are God's children and they have suffered trauma and devastation.

GRATEFUL Knowing what is going on in the world also reminds me that I have been given much.  We have a warm home, food, clothes, friends, and family, and our Savior Jesus Christ who suffered for each of us.

RELIEVED  I worry every day about what to make for dinner because I want to give Nate something he likes.  It's the old fashioned homemaker in me!  I still cook for the family when he goes, but if the kids don't like it, I tell them to eat cereal or make a box of mac and cheese.  Nate is not demanding of my cooking, but I am still like a newlywed when it comes to wanting to impress him when he comes home from a long day.

SURPRISED at how often one of the kids gets sick, and how frequently house problems happen (broken ice-maker, basement flooding, dryer stops drying, etc) We are definitely not immune.  No issues yet this time: knock on wood!

WITHDRAWN It's hard to explain, but when Nate is away, I have this urge to stay home like a mother hen with my chicks under my wings.  I don't like going out and answering a lot of questions.  I get the feeling I had when my brother, Tad, died while Nate was the Bishop, and I didn't want the attention.  I tend to be guarded until he lands at the Salt Lake City airport.

PEACEFUL  At night, when we read scriptures and kneel to pray without him, I feel a tangible peace.  I also felt that when Nate was gone as a Bishop, caring for our ward family.  I hate having him gone, but I love that glowing feeling we have when he's out.

THANKFUL So many kind people check up on me and the kids, and the kids do step up.  They know that by the end of one of Nate's trips, I will be stressed.  Mary helps with the dishes and cleans the kitchen at night.  Lucy spends one on one time with Jeffrey boy.  Joe keeps me laughing.  Anne sends Nate and me emails.  Emma steadies the ship day after day.  People are blessings!
AWARE  It's good to have perspective-- to know there is a big world out there with millions of people, who have joys and struggles, and to know that the world doesn't revolve around us, or around our appearances, possessions, vacations, or lack of. 

Bottom line? I couldn't be more blessed.  Heavenly Father loves each and every soul on this earth, and I'm the lucky one who ended up with Superman.

 

I love you!  See you soon.

Super Easy Spider-leg Soup

I live in Utah, and it is COOOOOOLD on Halloween!  I like to make a pot of soup while the kids are at school so that my trick-or-treaters can eat at their leisure.  This is one of the easiest soups I make, and it has great flavor.  Even my pickiest eaters will eat this soup!  Here's what you need:

and this:

 

And now you are ready to start cooking. 

 

 

In a large pot cook for 20-25 minutes:

4 cups chicken broth

1/2 t salt

1/2 t pepper

3 or 4 chopped carrots

1 diced onion

1 box Rice-a-Roni (Long Grain and Wild Rice ) and seasoning

2 cups water

After checking for vegetable tenderness, remove from heat.

 

Form a roux:

1/2 cup butter, melted

3/4 cup flour

2 cups milk

 

Add roux to vegetables/broth gradually.  Stir until incorporated and thick.

Add chopped chicken (3-4 breasts if you aren't using a rotisserie chicken)

 

Voila!  I am still cooking with an electric cooktop, so I like to keep it warm in a crock pot rather than risk the bottom burning in the pan all afternoon. 

 

I'm all about short-cut recipes on crazy days like Halloween!  No sane human being is going to want to slave over soup.  Trust me, from start to finish, you will be done with this in less than an hour.  If you have a food processor, you can shave off more minutes with your carrots and onions as well.

 

Happy Spooky, Scary, Spider-leg Soupy Halloween!

 

 



Count Your Many Blessings

I had a thankful moment today.

Little Paige spent the entire Sacrament Meeting covering her program with things for which she is thankful.  Occasionally, I peered over her shoulder to see how it was coming along.
About 55 minutes after she began, our Bishop stood to announce the closing song and prayer.
Paige's eyes perked up!  The organ pipes sounded, and the congregation joined to sing:

When upon life's billows you are tempest-tossed,
When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost
Count your many blessings; name them one by one,
And it will surprise you what the Lord has done.

Her pen bouncing across the page, she followed the beat, counting each of her words cluttering the program.

Count your blessings; name them one by one.
Count your blessings; see what God hath done.
Count your blessings; name them one by one.
Count your many blessings; see what God hath done.

With the corners of her mouth turned up in a beaming smile, Paige nudged her Mom, pointed to her program, and mouthed the total.  I witnessed her joy from the bench behind her. 

Today, I was reminded that this statement is true:

 

"It is not happy people who are thankful,

  it is thankful people who are happy."

 

For that, I am thankful.  And happy.





Where I'm From

From author EB White in Elements of Style: "The use of language begins with imitation. Take pains to admire what is good. Then when you write in a way that comes naturally, you will echo the halloos that bear repeating."
Mrs. Bean reminds us to read, read, read, and read good stuff. As we do, our writing will reflect the good reading we've absorbed. When beginning our own personal histories, look for memoirs and poetry that speak to you. If you choose to imitate the form, be sure to give credit to the original source. One of my favorite projects from our writing class was inspired by George Ella Lyons, a Kentucky author who has published in many genres including articles, juveniles novels, picture books, and poetry. Here is her poem:

Where I’m From
By George Ella Lyon
I am from clothespins,
from Clorox and carbon-tetrachloride.
I am from the dirt under the back porch.
(Black, glistening
it tasted like beets.)
I am from the forsythia bush,
the Dutch elm
whose long gone limbs I remember
as if they were my own.

I am from fudge and eyeglasses,
from Imogene and Alafair.
I'm from the know- it-alls
and the pass- it-ons,
from perk up and pipe down.
I'm from He restoreth my soul
with cottonball lamb
and ten verses I can say myself.

I'm from Artemus and Billie's Branch,
fried corn and strong coffee.
From the finger my grandfather lost
to the auger
the eye my father shut to keep his sight.
Under my bed was a dress box
spilling old pictures,
a sift of lost faces
to drift beneath my dreams.
I am from those moments --
snapped before I budded --
leaf- fall from the family tree.

Elementary School teachers around the US have been using this awesome poem in 4th and 5th grade classes recently.  I think one of the things about George Ella Lyon's poem is her use of nouns.  Again from EB White: "Write with nouns and verbs, not with adjectives and adverbs.  The adjective hasn't been built that can pull a weak or inaccurate noun out of a tight place.  In general, it is nouns and verbs, not their assistants, that give good writing its toughness and color."

Inspired by this poem, Mrs. Bean sent me to work.  Here's what I came up with:

Where I'm From-- thanks to George Ella Lyons
I am from cloth diapers,
from baby aspirin and phenobarbital.
I am from potato bugs escaping overturned rocks
(their tiny squirming legs enthralled me.)
I am from baby's breath,
the apricot trees
whose strong branches held my curious soul
and dropped ripe fruit that
slithered and squished between my toes.

I am from tuna fish sandwiches on white bread
from General Hospital and Star Wars
at the Center Theater.
I am from high achievers and non-conformists
from VCRs and microwave ovens
and Give Said the Little Stream
as it hurried down the hill.

I am from National Geographics,
e-tickets and red vinyl bean bags
from the so-called "shark bite"
(dad's melanoma)
and his hundred bee stings covered with caladryl
and welcoming mom home with new baby Bubba.
In my closet was a treasure box
bearing proud moments--
smiles and handwriting
housing dreams for my future.
I am from these moments
glimpses before budding
One bough from the Clayton tree.

Although my posterity might not understand all of the references of my poem, I think they will know more about me and my roots from a poem than from a list of dates, places and events.  Sit for a while with George Ella Lyons and get started!  Consider it a gift to the generations. 

Me and Lou

When I was 13 and looked like this:

I met an awesome lady who looked like this:

But as a 13 year old, I didn't know she was an awesome lady. I knew she was a quirky, interesting English teacher.
Nearly 30 years later, I thought it was time to start on my personal history. Why wait? By the time I'm "that age," I will have most likely forgotten it all, and I'm sure at "that age," I won't be technically savvy enough to record it the way they will do it then. I was thrilled to hear a monthly writing class was starting in my neighborhood on the first Tuesday of the month, by this quirky, interesting English teacher, Mrs. Mary Lou Bean. I gathered up my notebook, pencil, and water bottle, and began a journey into writing, and writing my past. Mrs. Bean and I agree that writing your own history isn't particularly effective to the reader when it is straight facts. Such as this:
name: Jane Doe
born: July 13, 1961
birthplace: Meridian, Idaho, USA
Rather, the reader will enjoy small snippets of your life in various forms. Sometimes, Mrs. Bean prompts us with prose; sometimes with narratives. After working with her for the last year, I have a good start on my family history! I challenge you, dear reader, to start today! Don't wait until you are dying, or nearly dead. Start with something small... perhaps a memory of your first day of fourth grade? or maybe a favorite piece of furniture you liked at your grandma's house when you were small? Posts to come will feature such ideas. Pick up your pencil or open a document, friend. Let's get started. We're in for some fun.

Lessons learned and relearned

Why in the world would a busy mother of six active children choose to start an adventure like a BLOG?!

Five years ago, I thought I was ready to begin, so I did. Kind of.

Three years ago, I thought I was ready to begin again, so I did. Not really.

Now it is a chilly Friday night and I am home alone (SHOCK) and it's time. And I ask again, WHY?

Because in life, I learn lessons. And somehow it seems I learn them again and again. If lessons are learned and relearned, shouldn't they be shared? That's why we are here: to live, and to give the lessons we've learned away.

“A moment of consideration often prevents a thousand apologies” ― Kevin J. Anderson

from my home to yours~