Older Than Jesus

It's official. Today I'm 34 and therefore older than Jesus. I don't mean to sound irreverent but that's what I've been thinking all week and to tell you the truth, I feel a little odd. I feel as though I've lived longer than I should and that I'm receiving a gift of life that the Savior never got.

Perhaps it's this feeling of life as a gift that has been coloring my day because it has been wonderful! And it's only 11am here.

I woke up at 6:28am (I know, not quite so wonderful) to the sound of a text on my cell phone. My BFF sent me a note (Happy Birthday squishy) which so made my morning. I set off with Carbon, our black lab, for a walk on Sandy Beach (we're terribly original with our names here) and had a nice chat with Lizzie on the phone.

I met my aunt (my mom's sister) at the beach. We've been walking together in the mornings for the last week and a half. Today was the last day we could go together as she's a teacher and starts work on Monday and leaves today for a weekend away. I have loved our walks - it's a bit like having my mom back. She too feels the loss of my mother. We have spent hours talking about family - current and ancestoral, the gospel, politics and life. We have talked about nothing. We have watched all the wildlife on the beach (seagulls, bald eagles, ravens and blue herons, jellyfish and dead chum salmon) and picked out all their footprints. We have seen mining relics and wondered at the little odd things one finds here and there on a beach.

It has been wonderful.

Upon arriving back home, I got to crawl back into my pjs and into bed and was then showered with gifts.

It's funny you know. I've heard about the 5 love languages and always paused to think about what my love language was and could never figure it out. It came to me today: it's receiving gifts. It's a bit of a heart shocker because I have always prided myself on not being materialistic but I feel loved by receiving gifts. I will say, though, that it's not a matter of money but of thought. I love it when someone brings me something that I have desperately wanted or speaks to my heart or fits me; I love to see the thought and time that someone has poured into a gift for me.

This morning my husband gave me the most perfect card I have received (I'll try and post it sometime) and then gave me a peridot (my birthstone) ring. It's perfect as I lost my ring years ago when I put it in a "safe place" while I was prego with Lulu and I have wanted a ring on my finger again. It's also perfect because it's just a peridot and so while I know he spent some money on me, I rejoice in the fact that we will not be selling our kids to pay for it.

The kids came in with breakfast in bed: scrambled eggs, milk and two pieces of toast with marionberry jam. They all had cards and presents. Lulu's was a bath scrubby that could reach my back, Quinn's was a pink (I know - I'm such a girl!) water bottle with a built in straw that hides when I twist the lid and a clip so I can take it walking and Rhys' was a box of DARK chocolate cherry cordials. It felt so good to know that they each hit on something I needed - my back is always itchy and needs to be scrubbed, I LOVE to drink water all the time especially on the go and I LOVE dark chocolate.e

Afterwards I took a hot shower which used to be one of my favorite things but over the last few months has become more of a chore than anything else. I even (it's true) have taken to only showering every other day and throwing my hair in a pony tail. (Gasp!) I know. But today I reveled in the pleasure of hot water running down my spine and through my hair. I reveled in the feeling of clean skin.

My SIL Mia brought me my birthday cake (devil's food cake with chocolate chips baked in and homemade chocolate frosting - Y.U.M.M.Y!!) and lots of birthday love. My SIL Julie called me from Oregon and we had a lovely chat.

And the day is still young.

You know those days that are just so delicious that you feel happiness, joy and goodness just oozing out of your pores? This is one of those days for me. And I'm lucky enough that it also just so happens to be my birthday.

So, thank you to all my loved ones who have sent me birthday presents, wishes, prayers, love and thoughts.

And thank you God for giving me life and more time on earth than Jesus.

Scary Halloween Tales

I know - everyone's doing it. Here's my recap on our Halloween:

Yesterday, my son refused to wear his Sonic the Hedgehog costume because he was embarrassed by the way it looked. He came home and saw the ears I made for him, because Sonic has ears, and scoffed. He got dressed, though, because that's what one does when threatened persuaded with a strong does of mother love.

I will admit - I'm no Jill, but I thought I did a good job with skills I have in making an approximation of Sonic. My son disagreed and semi-sulked through the whole Trick or Treat downtown yesterday afternoon. (Semi because, really, how hard is it to pull of a whole sulk when people are voluntarily giving you candy?)

Then, a couple of cute young teenage girls recognized him (no one else did the entire day) and kept ooh and aahing over Sonic, "We love you Sonic!" in a way that only young females can. Rhys was completely stoked that he was recognized and proceeded to tell me that night (totally paraphrasing here) that next time he won't judge a costume based on how it looks. Next time, he'll be patient and understand that dorky looking costumes can still be cool. Maybe next time he'll even wear the costume to school. (He was one of three 4th graders who didn't dress up.)

This morning, I'm still contemplating selling him to the gypsies - it's a good thing we didn't run into any last night.

Quinn kept being called a Power Ranger. As if. He was Bumblebee the Transformer. I mean, they've already put out one movie with a sequel due out soon and NO ONE knew who Bumblebee was. Seriously. Poor kid. He was even carrying a Transformer bag. Too bad Patrick Jane wasn't there - he would've figured it out!

We got home at about 9:30pm last night and my daughter had crashed in the car during the long drive home. I carried her into the house (we still had to wash the red hair spray out of her hair as she has been Ariel - her favorite and my least favorite princess) only to make her stand up and put her costume back on because we had to go visit neighbors who put together special candy for our kids.

Today, I'm spending the day letting my children gorge themselves on candy, TV and computer games. All so I can lie about reading, catching up on all my favorite shows, blog and not make a real meal. (I did make them eggs this morning to add some protein to all that sugar.)

Yeah, I know -- bad costume, threatening sale to Gypsies, torturing half asleep children and feeding them nothing but high-fructose corn syrup....I'm one of those mothers.

Fun on the 4th

We had a good time on the 4th, lack of sleep notwithstanding. We kicked it off by waiting in front of the post office for a good hour before the parade started. Then, the children ran like fiendish beings after all that candy. Really, who cares about firetrucks, marching bands and floats - lets just have some random people walking down a cordoned off street throwing out bags and bags of candy to waiting children; it's like Halloween without the work. No dressing up in sweet outfits, walking to all sorts of doors and knocking trying to look oh so cute. No, on the 4th, you just stand there and they bring the candy to you! How cool is that? Really, too much fun. Thank you founding fathers for creating such a fabulous holiday!

I also found in interesting that in Oregon we have to watch streams of combines driving past us. Here, it was a 4x4 group and a bunch of mining equipment. In defense of the mining equipment, they were much cooler to watch then the combines.




I did manage to snap a photo of Lulu (on the right) and my niece watching from the sidelines. It's not much but I think it's sweet and I can share.

After this, we all just hung out at the neighbor's BBQ. It was a fun and mellow forth. Yea! Just what I needed after all the activity of the last few days.

Robert's Day

I thought, after my homage to my father, that I needed a word or two about my husband. Nothing too sappy. I think his day was, overall, good. I let him sleep in until 12:45pm. How is this possible? We were complete heathens and completely skipped church. Yup. That's us. I'm sure my friends are worried about my activity level. Me? As I always tell them, I'm holding out for cheesecake and friend chicken (I really like the barbecued wings from KFC) as gifts of fellowship on our doorstep; despite my many jokes, no one has ever actually brought some. Still, hope springs eternal....And yes, I know he gave up any opportunity to shamelessly steal 8 cookies from some unsuspecting young man or woman but for him, the sleep was worth it.

I did wake him up briefly at 10:30am to give him his card with a picture of our new grill - our old one is so bad that he took off the last bit of grill that hadn't rusted through and was using it over a fire pit in the back yard to cook steaks - but no actual grill as I didn't want to lift it, wanted to surprise him and thought he'd prefer not having to assemble it. It should be ready for pickup on Thursday but I think he's going to pick it up tomorrow as he'd rather have the grill NOW than wait.

Back to the point of this post - me and all my hard work. I tended the kids (read: I let the kids watch TV all morning - hey it was good stuff, Liken, Living Scriptures and no Zathura no matter how many times they asked), I fed them breakfast (Read: I let the kids eat all the cereal and Poptarts their little hearts fancied.), while I watched Sense and Sensibility, the BBC version. Kids happy, Mom happy, Dad happy, it's a win/win/win; Stephen Covey would be so proud! I did get motivated around noon to make lunch, which was actually breakfast - eggs, bacon and pancakes.

Lulu cracked the eggs (I should have gotten a picture). I had egg gook and shells all over the counter, a dozen eggs and countless bits of shell in a glass bowl. I whirled it all up and let it sit and I think most of the shells drifted toward the bottom. The eggs had a bit more texture but nothing large enough as to actually crunch on my teeth.

Quinn tended the bacon. I, however, forgot to put a plate under the grease hole (our dripping pan is broken) and was left with this:

Mmm...mmm...good! But the bacon was fabulous. The only bad thing is I don't believe in paper towels. I mean, I know they exist and all but I'm cheap. My SIL Julie says I'm value oriented but I think I'm just actually cheap, to the point that I probably squeak when I walk, and I can't see the point of spending money on paper towels that are just thrown away when I can use a regular towel just as well and wash it for pennies. This was one of those moments, however, when I regretted not following my spontaneous shopping desires for paper towels (dare I say inspired desire?) and had nothing with which to mop up this mess. Toilet paper to the rescue!

So Robert woke up to a plateful of two over easy eggs ("They weren't over easy, they were over HARD!" interjects Robert whilst I type. Okay, they were a little overcooked but I was trying to read blogs and cook at the same time; why waste time when you can multi-task?), two pieces of toast, and all but 4 pieces of bacon out of the 1 lb. package (not including, of course, the bacon I ate while cooking).

Robert spent a few hours with his dad while the kids and I stayed home and thought about cleaning up a bit. I think we finally did at about 4pm, coincidentally just moments before Robert walked in the door; I've got this SAHM thing down to a science! We watched the Jimmy Neutron Movie as a family (read: we sat together on a couch while everyone watched this movie for the umpteenth time and I slept. My daughter actually patted my cheek because I started to snore) and then went to Liz's house for ice cream floats. And yes, we still hadn't eaten dinner. (The kids had been snacking on pancakes all afternoon - they were fine.)

The kids played outside; Rob, Liz and I watched a show about ice truckers, meaning men who drive semi-trucks on roads made out of ice overlaying rivers and the Arctic Ocean. Soo a job I do not want! We came home and made PBJs for the kids and now here I sit.

I think the day went well, but let's hear it from the horse's mouth.

"Rob, how was your day?"

"Eh....itz okay." *sigh*

"Was there anything you liked about the day?"

"I gotta sleep....I like the other poptarts better. I threw the box up here hoping I'd have some...."

("Oops," thinks Maraiya, "I guess I shouldn't have fed them to the wolves this morning.")

"Anything else you'd like to say to my adoring fans?"

"No, I don't do blogs. I don't talk to a computer." Rustle, opening of poptarts. Silence.

Well, I guess that's that.

Seriously, my husband is fabulous. He puts up with me going slightly insane; he will wash dishes and tend the garden (even my flowers). He even loves my cat. He scares off pigeons and voluntarily hunts down nesting rats. He adds innuendo to the simplest phrases. Really. That one about me squeaking when I walked, yeah, he made a comment on that. I love him. I'm so smitten. I think I'll keep him. I'd post a picture of my handsome lover but, again with the paranoia.

Happy Father's Day!

I said a few words about my dead mother a month ago; I feel urged to say a few words about my very much alive and fabulous father today. (And yes, that's me on my dad's lap, Christmas 1975. Do you see what a sugar addict I was, right from the beginning?)

Thank you for teaching me that ice cream is an important food group.

Thank you for passing on your love of puns and word play. [Did you hear about the man who's spaceship crash landed on a purple planet with purple seas and purple rocks and purple aliens. I think he may have even turned purple himself. You could say he was marooned. -- Sorry, I only really remember the punchline.] I loved the letter you sent me when I was in college (a cut-out vinyl letter M) as well as the preparation kit for my oral exam (lipstick, toothpaste, toothbrush and dental floss).

Thank you for letting me stop shoveling the roof before either of the boys and going inside for hot cocoa.

Thank you for treating me like a princess and for loving me. Thank you for all those snuggles on nights when I had nightmares and couldn't sleep, even when I was a teenager. Thank you for learning to endure my affectionate self despite your more reserved tendencies. You always gives me hugs and loves and I appreciate that and love that so much.

Thank you for the ongoing saga of Penelope and Dastardly Dan and the many voices of this one man show. You have made me smile on days when I didn't think I could and made me so grateful to have a father who would make my roommate say, "Your dad called. At least, I think it was your dad."

Thank you for working so hard to provide for all of us these many years and for teaching me, by your actions, that my children will always be my children, no matter how old they are, and I will always wonder where they are, how they are doing and what I can do to help.

Thank you for all you have been and done since Mom died. Thank you for loving my mother and for giving me an amazing example of what a marriage should be and what a good husband is like. Thank you for grieving her passing and rejoicing in it as well as a birth into somewhere better.

Thank you for respecting me and allowing me to speak my mind and be an independent woman and for not ever making me feel bad about those opinions and insights, whether they were right or wrong.

Thank you for letting me go to NYC, on my own, when I was 19. I can't imagine how hard that was for you. For me, it was a tremendous opportunity.

Thank you for loving my friends and my husband and for having a heart big enough to accept those who come into your life.

Thank you for changing Quinn's diaper. Once. And for not destroying the photographic evidence. I still have it. Somewhere.

Thank you for being a good poppa and for loving my children.

Thank you for your testimony and faith in Jesus. You don't speak of it often but I find I see it in how you live, particularly in those moments when you think no one is watching or that no one will know that you have the heart of a marshmallow.

Thank you for teaching me that even children must pay taxes in the form of losing the curly-q from their ice cream cones or the first bit of some sweet; I didn't appreciate it then, but I do now! Thank you, as well, for being willing to take the bullet for me and always taste testing my food to make sure it wasn't poisoned. Such selflessness! Such sacrifice!

I love you, Dad. I love your heart. I love your sense of humor. I love your thoughtfulness. I love the way you struggle to do what is right. I am grateful you are my father. God has blessed me so much in giving me you. Happy Father's Day.

God's Sense of Humor

So, yesterday was a fabulous Mother's Day; probably the best one I've had since I officially became a mother. The evening ended with Robert sleeping early, the kids going to bed on time and I got to blog and catch up on some TV shows online. I chatted with Mia and stayed up until about 1:30am. I had a great time. Then God reminded me what I shouldn't be so self-indulgent.

Lulu woke up at midnight saying her legs hurt. I gave her some medicine, cuddled her and sent her back to bed. She woke up at 3am(?) saying her ear hurt. By now I'm tired and just want sleep, not to mention pain moving from body parts and I'm not sure if I should take her seriously plus she's already had medication. So I haul her into bed with me. She didn't sleep. Not one. single. wink. I know because I didn't either.

Finally, I gave in. I let her suck down some ibuprofen and sent her to bed. She's still sleeping but my *&T%@&$ inner alarm clock has me up. Didn't I already post once this month about the dangers of blogging on very little sleep? I guess I don't learn as quickly as I thought I did.

My Apologies...

Well, I posted happy posts for several days in a row but of late (why do I feel like I right this pretty much every other day?!) I haven't been feeling happy and I've been struggling with posting as I haven't wanted to be too much of a downer or maudlin. Argh, sometimes I just wait for one of you to whip out a violin and play along with my sob stories.

I think my period is coming. I know, cliche. But, it happens to be true. The week before (sometimes two weeks before) my cycle, I begin to get very emotional and crave chips and chocolate like nobody's business. And, well, I've been weepy. Thursday night I cried until both nostrils were so plugged that when I tried to breathe it was like trying to suck a good milkshake through a skinny straw; nothing was moving. Which is unfortunate as it's allergy season and my good breathing days are numbered.

Today,however, was a good day. Robert, after our marathon shopping trip yesterday, went out at 9pm and bought me some computer games. (Yea! And you thought all I did was blog and read other people's blogs....) Today Rob and the chitlins (yes, I know what that means) brought me their cards and presents along with hot cocoa topped with whipped cream. Yum. I love Mother's Day! Then we had brunch with Rob's family - many moments of we women saying, "You can't do that. I don't want you to and it's Mother's Day." It was as if a fairy stood over our shoulder and said, "Zing! Wish granted!" *Loved* it!

I got cookies at church. As per usual, each mother got a gift (cookies, not flowers this year) and as per usual, they had way more than needed. (Seriously, do the powers that be think that Mother's Day/Father's Day is to the LDS congregation what Easter/Christmas is to another Christian congregation? They always plan for oodles more people than ever end up attending!) So, since the young women were passing them out, I simply accosted them for more; I came home with 7 cookies (not including the one I ate at church). Plus, in Primary, my kids made me coupon books (Lulu's aren't really written in so I'm pretty sure I can convince her they say anything!) and packets of flower seeds.

Then, Robert made a fabulous dinner: steak cooked over an open flame (literally - our bbq is broken so Rob set up a fire pit in the backyard with a grill on top and cooked) with stir fried veggies and cous cous topped with wasabi teriyaki from Costco. Mouth. So. Happy!

Now, the kids are ready for bed and watching a movie with Robert and I'm blogging. Good times. (No sarcasm included.) However, back to how weepy I'm feeling, when I sat down to write the following is what came out. I apologize for the constant whining and obsessing over my mother but, it is what it is.

I hope everyone had a wonderful Mother's Day, even if you had to create your own bliss.

Happy Mother's Day!

Thank you for making me practice piano over and over again. Even more, thank you for praising my attempts to play and for encouraging me over and over again. Thank you for always saying how much you loved to hear me play and how it made your heart happy.

Thank you for calling my brothers "heartless dolts" when they were mocking me for crying at a movie, thereby implying that if they had a heart, they'd be crying too.

Thank you for answering all of my questions, no matter how personal (Mom, do you douche?) honestly and openly. OK, I never asked the aforementioned but I do remember asking you if oral sex was okay and that you didn't stammer or hem and haw and change the subject; you gave me a frank discussion about the subject.

Thank you for all of the homemade love over the years. I cannot count the ways your nimble hands have blessed my life: dresses, dolls, clothes for my children (including their beautiful blessing outfits), moccasins, sweaters, wall-hangings, sock monkeys and even a pink poncho (which will be Lulu's someday).

Thank you for so much love. I remember you constantly saying how happy you were that we decided to come and live at your house. I remember one of the "popular girls" in high school being astounded and disbelieving that my mother said such things, but you did.

Thank you for loving my dad and for teaching me how to have a good marriage.

Thank you for being so brave. I remember about a week before you passed as you were contemplating continuing dialysis that you wanted them to use your central line instead of your fistula because the fistula would hurt too much and you were a coward. You broke my heart and I wanted to scream to you that you are one of the bravest people I have ever met. You were sick all of my life but never, ever complained. You often thought of those around you despite whatever challenge you were facing. You were/are awesome!

Thank you for being there when all of my children were born. Thank you for taking photos of those first miracles (even at inappropriate angels) and for helping me at home when the reality of each new miracle became apparent.

Thank you for teaching me how to clean a bathroom, scrub a floor, wash dishes and make my bed. Thank you for passing on recipes for Chicken Divan, Pula and Octopus. Thank you for introducing me to the rule, "You cook, you clean;" unbeknownst to me at the time, my husband would also believe in that rule.

Thank you for letting me find my own dreams and for letting me make my own choices no matter how strongly you disagreed.

Thank you for your faith in and love of Jesus. Thank you for speaking of Him and not being shy about the difficulties in living life His way. Thank you for having the courage to have me and T, regardless of what those darn doctors said. Thank you for believing God more than anyone else.

Thank you for hugs, endless squishy hugs. Thank you for back scratches - every time it itches I still think of you. Thank you for your laughter and for all your songs; I wish we could have sung a duet together and you would have the soprano to my alto.

I miss you Mom. I miss you so much that sometimes I can't breathe. I wish you could hug my kids and tell them stories about life growing up in back woods Alaska. I wish you could sing me "In the sleepy treetops..." just one more time. I wish you weren't so far away. I wish I could email you photos and quirky forwards that I know would make you laugh. I wish I could just hear your voice.

I wish we had lived closer and that I'd never moved away from home. I wish I'd spent more time with you, just was you warned me oh so many years ago that I would. I wish...I wish...I wish for so much.

I wish you happy. I wish that today is a glorious Mother's Day for you. I wish that you are loving on your mother as much as I wish I could love on you. I wish for you to be smiling and singing.

I love you, Mom.

April Fool's!

As mentioned in the comments section of April 1's post, I'm feeling a bit guilty. (Particularly since BiV posted and I'm a huge fan. Nothing like having someone you highly respect comment on what was a joke!) I did have a moment's hesitation before posting as I am highly gullible but in the end, my funny bone was too tickled not to hit the publish button. (BTW, the image to the left is a sheepish grin.)

I also thought it was fitting to share: yesterday, I took Lulu to APC. We were eating lunch in the cafeteria with all the 1 and 2 graders. The adult in charge got everyone's attention and announced that it would be "rainy day recess" and that everyone would have to return to their classrooms after eating lunch. The kids were stunned and the room was silent. I was outraged! Could they not see the sun streaming through the windows?! On previous days, when it had actually been rainy, they had still let the kids go outside with the admonishment to play on the black top only. Surely they could do so today?! The mother sitting next to me said, "Oh, April Fool's." Sure enough, the same adult in charge announced a few minutes later that it was indeed an April Fool's joke. The kids were laughing, throwing their heads back and howling kind of laughter. It was delightful. And I felt a bit foolish that at my age I was still as easily snookered as a six-year-old.

My boys came home and were full of: "Mom, there's something wrong with the computer;" "Lulu, your hair is green;" "There's a spider on the wall." "APRIL FOOL'S!" So much so that I had to call an end to the hilarity. But there was something so just plain fun about the innocent jests that I guess I wanted to get in on that.

Again, hope you have a chuckle. Forgive me. And know that I will most likely, visit from an angel of God excepting, only ever have my three children.

Good News!!

I just found out that I am preggers! Yea! Rob is being a wee bit grumpy about the whole matter; (something about no room and where the heck are we going to put a baby?!) but I am uber excited. I'm hoping for a sister for Emmalou but secretly, in the sickest part of my brain, I am hoping for twins so that this one will have a buddy (as Robert will ensure this never happens again, even if that requires lifelong abstinence). Oh well, we'll see what the future brings. The baby should be due in Nov/Dec. (I'm trying not to be too exact as my babies run later. And later. And later. And I'm really just hoping not to birth an elephant.) I know, so much for that summer baby but surprise are, well, surprises.

Happy Easter!

This was sent to me as a forward but I had never heard it before and it touched my heart. I hope today's celebration is wonderful for each of you and your families and I pray that your children and mine learn that there is far more to Easter than bunnies and eggs.

There was a boy by the name of Steve who was attending Seminary in Utah . In this Seminary classes are held during school hours. Brother Christianson taught Seminary at this particular school. He had an open-door policy and would take in any student that had been thrown out of another class as long as they would abide by his rules. Steve had been kicked out of his sixth period and no other teacher wanted him, so he went into Brother Christianson's Seminary class.

Steve was told that he could not be late, so he arrived just seconds before the bell rang and he would sit in the very back of the room. He would also be the first to leave after the class was over.

One day, Brother Christianson asked Steve to stay after class so he could talk with him. After class, Bro. Christianson pulled Steve aside and said, "You think you're pretty tough, don't you?"

Steve's answer was, "Yeah, I do."

Then Brother Christianson asked, "How many push-ups can you do?"

Steve said, "I do about 200 every night."

"200? That's pretty good, Steve," Brother Christianson said. "Do you think you could do 300?"

Steve replied, "I don't know...I've never done 300 at a time."

"Do you think you could?" Again asked Brother Christianson.

"Well, I can try," said Steve.

"Can you do 300 in sets of 10? I need you to do 300 in sets of ten for this to work. Can you do it? I need you to tell me you can do it," Brother Christianson said.

Steve said, "Well... I think I can... yeah, I can do it."

Brother Christianson said, "Good! I need you to do this on Friday."

Friday came and Steve got to class early and sat in the front of the room. When class started, Brother Christianson pulled out a big box of doughnuts. Now these weren't the normal kinds of doughnuts, they were the extra fancy BIG kind, with cream centers and frosting swirls. Everyone was pretty excited-it was Friday, the last class of the day, and they were going to get an early start on the weekend.

Bro. Christianson went to the first girl in the first row and asked, "Cynthia, do you want a doughnut?"

Cynthia said, "Yes."

Bro. Christianson then turned to Steve and asked, "Steve, would you do ten push-ups so that Cynthia can have a doughnut?"

Steve said, "Sure," and jumped down from his desk to do a quick ten. Then Steve again sat in his desk. Bro. Christianson put a doughnut on Cynthia's desk.

Bro. Christianson then went to Joe, the next person, and asked, "Joe do you want a doughnut?"

Joe said, "Yes." Bro. Christianson asked, "Steve would you do ten push-ups so Joe can have a doughnut?"

Steve did ten push-ups; Joe got a doughnut.

And so it went, down the first aisle. Steve did ten pushups for every person before they got their doughnut. And down the second aisle, till Bro. Christianson came to Scott.

Scott was captain of the football team and center of the basketball team. He was very popular and never lacking for female companionship. Then Bro. Christianson asked, "Scott do you want a doughnut?"

Scott's reply was, "Well, can I do my own pushups?"

Bro. Christianson said, "No, Steve has to do them."

Then Scott said, "Well, I don't want one then."

Bro. Christianson then turned to Steve and asked, "Steve, would you do ten pushups so Scott can have a doughnut he doesn't want?"

Steve started to do ten pushups. Scott said, "HEY! I said I didn't want one!"

Bro. Christianson said, "Look, this is my classroom, my class, my desks, and my doughnuts. Just leave it on the desk if you don't want it." And he put a doughnut on Scott's desk.

Now by this time, Steve had begun to slow down a little. He just stayed on the floor between sets because it took too much effort to be getting up and down. You could start to see a little perspiration coming out around his brow. Bro. Christianson started down the third row. The students were beginning to get a little angry.

Bro. Christianson asked Jenny, "Jenny, do you want a doughnut?"

Jenny said, "No."

Then Bro. Christianson asked Steve, "Steve, would you do ten pushups so Jenny can have a doughnut that she doesn't want?" Steve did ten; Jenny got a doughnut.

By now, the students were beginning to say "No," and there were all these uneaten doughnuts on the desks. Steve was also having to really put forth a lot of effort to get these pushups done for each doughnut. There began to be a small pool of sweat on the floor beneath his face, his arms and brow were beginning to get red because of the physical effort involved.

Bro. Christianson asked Robert to watch Steve to make sure he did ten pushups in a set because he couldn't bear to watch all of Steve's work for all of those uneaten donuts. So Robert began to watch Steve closely. Bro. Christianson started down the fourth row.

During his class, however, some students had wandered in and sat along the heaters along the sides of the room. When Bro. Christianson realized this, he did a quick count and saw 34 students in the room. He started to worry if Steve would be able to make it.

Bro. Christianson went on to the next person and the next and the next. Near the end of that row, Steve was really having a rough time. He was taking a lot more time to complete each set.

Steve asked Bro. Christianson, "Do I have to make my nose touch on each one?"

Bro. Christianson thought for a moment, "Well, they're your pushups. You can do them any way that you want." And Bro. Christianson went on.

A few moments later, Jason came to the room and was about to come in when all the students yelled, "NO! Don't come in! Stay out!"

Jason didn't know what was going on. Steve picked up his head and said, "No, let him come."

Bro. Christianson said, "You realize that if Jason comes in you will have to do ten pushups for him."

Steve said, "Yes, let him come in."

Bro. Christianson said, "Okay, I'll let you get Jason's out of the way right now. Jason, do you want a doughnut?"

"Yes."

Steve, will you do ten pushups so that Jason can have a doughnut?" Steve did ten pushups very slowly and with great effort. Jason, bewildered, was handed a doughnut and sat down.

Bro. Christianson finished the fourth row, then started on those seated on the heaters. Steve's arms were now shaking with each pushup in a struggle to lift himself against the force of gravity. Sweat was dropping off of his face and, by this time, there was not a dry eye in the room.

The very last two girls in the room were cheerleaders and very popular. Bro. Christianson went to Linda, the second to last, and asked, "Linda, do you want a doughnut?

Linda said, very sadly, "No, thank you."

Bro. Christianson asked Steve, "Steve, would you do ten pushups so that Linda can have a doughnut she doesn't want?"

Grunting from the effort, Steve did ten very slow pushups for Linda. Then Bro. Christianson turned to the last girl, Susan. "Susan, do you want a doughnut?"

Susan, with tears flowing down her face, asked, "Bro. Christianson, can I help him?"

Bro. Christianson, with tears of his own, said, "No, he has to do it alone, Steve, would you do ten pushups so Susan can have a doughnut?"

As Steve very slowly finished his last pushup, with the understanding that he had accomplished all that was required of him, having done 350 pushups, his arms buckled beneath him and he fell to the floor.

Brother Christianson turned to the room and said, "And so it was, that our Savior, Jesus Christ, plead to the Father, 'Into thy hands I commend my spirit.' With the understanding that He had done everything that was required of Him, he collapsed on the cross and died. And like some of those in this room, many of us leave the gift on the desk, uneaten."

When everyone in the classroom heard what the teacher said and understood what he meant by this exercise, they realized how truly great Christ's sacrifice was. Steve smiled on the ground where he laid in his own sweat and began to cry.

Snippets

My family and I took a poll and it's unanimous -- Sky High is much better than Zoom: Academy for Super Heroes. Unfortunately, Santa brought the latter. Ah, well...

As I check my email and delete my spam, I wonder why I get nothing but ads for male enlargement. Part of me gets frustrated as I don't have that particular piece of anatomy so why do I need products to make it bigger? The feminist in me argues that there should be equal spam time for some sort of female experience enhancement medication or device or something along those lines.

I am exhausted. Lulu's birthday, Thanksgiving, my father-in-law's birthday, Christmas, Rhys' birthday and tonight is New Year's. I'm always happy when January rolls around as it provides a month's reprieve from holidays, birthdays and family functions.

My daughter was engaging to watch as we signed the family Christmas newsletter. She began trying to write her full name. (She can write E-M-M-A and I helped her with Louise). Then she moved toward writing a large E (one straight vertical line crossed by as many horizontal lines as she could fit, usually four) followed by squiggles. Next it was just squiggles, then just E's, then she colored in a snowflake at the bottom, then she practiced her lowercase a's (which really looked like q's) and she ended by just drawing a straight line across the bottom of the page. I love the honesty of a 4-year-old (a sentence I find ironic as she has a strong tendency to lie). She is not concerned about what others will think. She doesn't care if her name looks the prettiest or the best. She just does what she can and leaves the rest. Oh that I could be that honest and brave.

Robert got me the complete Calvin and Hobbes for Christmas. As I read the strips, I'm amazed at how much I really do love the rascally 6-year-old (hmmm...whom does he remind me of?) and his real, live, stuffed tiger. I read one strip where Hobbes asked Calvin if there really was a God. Calvin replied, "Well, I know someone's out to get me."

Rhys just had his ninth birthday (egads!) and his aunt gave him Peter and the Starcatchers and we gave him Gregor and the Code of the Claw. I love that he is old enough, and enough of a book lover, that I can now give him books for gifts. Of course, he did also get a skateboard with a King Cobra on the back. ("Sweet!")

I also need to record for posterity that Robert was right and I was wrong. For some reason this past weekend my right wrist flared up. I wrapped, iced and ibuprofened it all Saturday. By Sunday it was feeling much better. I was helping Robert with our experimental Seafood Lasagna (for Rhys’ birthday dinner -- which, by the way, was very rich but very delicious! He also requested brussel sprouts -- you know, you try to raise them right...) and I volunteered to grate the cheese. Robert, ever so wisely, suggested that I get down the ol’ meat grinder/cheese grater machine but I didn’t want to lug the heavy thing off the shelf, use it (it’s very noisy), clean it and put it back. “Oh no,” thought stubborn, independent I, “I will be fine.” My wrist woke me up at 5:30am (a great time on New Year’s Eve to be awake, particularly since my children have decided they are old enough to stay up until midnight) and has been killing me all day despite the wrap, ice and ibuprofen. I told Robert that he was right and I had been wrong and terribly stubborn and that I should have listened to him. He just requested a tape recorder.

I had to give a talk in church on Sunday. It went well but in my concluding remarks as I bore my testimony I expressed gratitude for my children and neglected to mention my husband. I have much greater sympathy for Sarah Jessica Parker now. I tried to convince Robert that I failed to mention him because we are one, as the Bible suggests we should be, and so mentioning him would be like saying, "I'm thankful for me," which one does not generally say in public. He didn't really buy it but appreciated the effort.

We missed our kids' Christmas Sing-a-long for the 2nd year in a row. Last year I went to a play and Robert and the kids got stuck for 45 min behind a train as they were leaving for the concert. This year, we all just plumb forgot. Rhys forgot. Quinn forgot. Robert forgot. I forgot (not so shocking there). Grandma and Grandpa even forgot! (Happily. I had nightmares of my in-laws waiting for us at the concert and not being particularly pleased with my latest memory lapse.) Quinn was distraught. We had a very long conversation as I tried to console him that concluded with me promising, multiple times, that we would go to next year's Christmas Sing-a-long. I'm really praying that we make that one. It's a scary thing to promise something a year in advance knowing how well my mind has been working of late.

I learned that cats have deciduous teeth. Robert was holding Jenny and she bit him. He pulled his finger out of her mouth only to have one tooth tweak as he did so. We checked the tooth and it was loose and pointing out of her mouth instead of straight up. We were very paranoid, "What should we do?" We decided (at this point we didn't know she should be loosing teeth) that there wasn't anything to do as we weren't going to have kitten orthodontics. (Can you even imagine the bill?!) The next morning the tooth was completely gone but there was the crown of a new incisor poking through her gums. I googled cat teeth and sure enough, kittens lose their teeth. Whew, sigh of relief. Robert doesn't feel like a big, blue meanie now.

We had ice on the roads and cars this morning. It was enchanting to learn that when freezing temps follow rain, spider webs become strings of crystal beads.

Lulu, Robert and I were all playing after her bath tonight. Lulu started laughing and snorting. "I'm laughing like a pig," she said. Then she got serious, leaned over Robert and said, "There's something in your nose. Stay still." And quick as a wink she reached in and grabbed something. I thought she had found a bogie but, to Robert's dismay, she pulled on one of his nose hairs. Just the thing Robert wants me to blog.

I've scared Rhys twice today. Heh, heh, heh.

These last few weeks, I've been quite happy with only tinges of depression. Yea!

I've tried to write a short story a few times and I find it amazing how difficult it is to create engaging dialogue, something I do naturally on a daily basis (alright, perhaps engaging is stretching it, but dialogue is accurate). An authoress I will probably never be but I've decided writing is good for my soul even if I write the same way I tell jokes: I'm the only one who laughs.

I supposed I've snipped all the ettes I could find in my life, which only leaves one last thing:

Happy New Year!