Day 26: Bully for you

One of my brave and compassionate brothers is taking on a heavy project right now while he works toward his Eagle Scout Award. He is in the process of putting together a public service announcement for suicide prevention. I feel really proud of him for taking on such a meaningful project and for trying to spread hope to his high school. I have had so many experiences that have testified to me that every single person matters, regardless of how well liked they are or how wide their influence is spread. They matter because they matter, and their existence is important. And I am so happy that my bro is trying to help others recognize their self worth.

Apparently, the Church had the same kind of idea in mind this month, because their featured Mormon message for March is on bullying.

I was feeling a little fragile about watching this video; I wasn't sure I wanted to. This subject hits a little too close to home for my fam, and I wasn't sure if I had the emotional strength to take it on tonight. But Jason had seen it earlier today, so he described it gently for my tender ears. Then I watched cautiously while the message of hope and encouragement bubbled on through me.

I get scared of things like this--bullying and meanness. It makes me want to emotionally bubble wrap my siblings and children through high school. I just want people to be nice to each other.

I was reading some comments on this video, and a few folks mentioned the fact that bullying is just a "part of life" and encouraged us all to "deal with it."

But that's the thing, isn't it? This is how they are dealing with it. They are trying to show how one person can make a positive influence by being nice. I can think of a friend I had growing up who made it her life's mission to talk about how wonderful every person is. She was totally sincere, too. Even before you met a person, she'd vet you on all their virtues until you, too, were convinced of their awesomeness.

She is the most positive rumor spreader I know. 

And good on her, too. She changed the way I looked at people. I trusted her judgment on people, and she stamped a big thumbs up on everyone.

And lastly, I really don't think this has to be a part of life. There are all kinds of bad things that we have to deal with in life: sickness, death, traffic, bug bites, moldy bread. We don't have to add to that list by also being jerks to each other. We were not born to bully. We were made to have joy. And I truly believe that we have the choice and power to be kind, to say we are sorry, to include each other, and to celebrate our virtues.

So here is that video:

And have a great weekend!

Day 25: Things that Matter

Not long ago, I watched a video about a girl who got married a couple days after her brother died in a car accident. She didn't have a normal wedding celebration; the party was cancelled, they just went to the temple with their family. But what I loved was that she said, "It was an amazing way to start a relationship, because nothing little mattered."

I remember feeling that way this Christmas as we hung around the hospital and prayed and prayed and prayed.

Nothing little mattered--not finishing sending cards or getting presents or a tree.

All that mattered was the things that really do matter.

Sorry to be so brief tonight, but I got to go sit on the couch with my man, because that is the kind of thing that really matters to me right now.

Love to you.

Day 24: Wordsmith Wednesday

Don't fear a poem, y'all!

I used to shy away from poetry because it seemed like the point of it was to be inscrutable, but no longer. First off, I learned how to read a poem--I learned I didn't have to make a full stop because a line ends. I learned I could read a line or a whole poem over and over when I couldn't grasp it on the first go. And most importantly, I learned you don't have to fully understand something to know that it is beautiful and you love it.

Secondly, I read so MUCH poetry after learning those simple keys and it strengthened my love.

I watched this little message not long ago that tells a story from Hugh B. Brown about a little currant bush. Bro. Brown had purchased this run-down farm in Canada and went about fixing it up, when he came upon an overgrown currant bush that was producing no fruit. He cut it back drastically until it was basically just stumps, and he saw little water droplets form at the end of each stump that looked like tears. Bro. Brown imagined the currant bush crying, saying, "How could you do this to me? I was making such wonderful progress?" And he imagined himself responding, "Listen, here little currant bush, I am the gardener here and I know what I want you to be. I don't want you to be fruit tree or a shade tree. I want you to be a currant bush. And one day, when you are laden with fruit, you will say, 'Thank you, Mr. Gardener.'"

Years later Bro. Brown was up for a military promotion and was denied it because of his religion. He was bitter and angry and shook his fist at the heavens, calling out, "How could you do this to me? After I have tried to do everything I was supposed to do?"

Then he heard a voice, his own voice, saying, "I am the gardener here. I know what I want you to do."

I had that in the back of my head when I wrote this little poem.

        The Gardener and the Stone

        He took two stones and wrote on one
        and let them bake in the morning sun.

        Then He called, "I have need of Thee."
        And the stones replied, "Here am I, send me."

        And He replied, "I'll send the first.
        I have loved this stone the best since birth."

        He picked me up with gentle hand,
        then crushed me till I turned to sand.

        He mixed my body with the dirt
        and stabbed my surface with a hook.

        He punctured holes down deep through me
        Then filled them up with tiny seeds.

        Wrapped inside my warm embrace,
        the seeds grew roots, then stems, then leaves.

        I nourished them and helped them grow.
        I saw the gardener loved them so.

        With love and kindness in His eyes,
        he trimmed them, cut them down to size.

        Holding close my little leafs,
        I'd feel them shudder and I'd weep.

        They tried to grow, and then would lack,
        So the gardener covered them in chicken crap.

        And though they wouldn't understand,
        the leaves would flower by His hands.

        Their roots would grow down deep in me
        And soon they'd tower into trees. 

Day 23: Time is my Frenemy

I love 18-month-old Natalie.

I won't say it's my favorite stage because that makes me feel weirdly unfaithful to every other stage of Natalie that I have loved, but I will say that I love hearing her talk and sing and tell me stories. It is awesome to know more about what she is thinking.

Lately she's been calling me "honey."

I will say something like, "Okay, let's go outside, honey."

And she'll say, "Okay, honey."

And she'll grab my hand and say, "Le's go ow-side," like it was her idea first.

She is very tricky to get a picture of, because when she sees the camera pointed her way she runs over and asks to "'Old it? 'Old it? 'Old it. Peeese. Peeese 'old it, Mommy. 'Old it."

"Mommy. 'Old it."

I have been able to sneak a couple videos, though, which is a great relief to me, because I often lament not having had recorded enough of our time together.

This one is Natalie read/ singing one of her favorite books:

And this one is us cleaning the basement:

It is bonkers how time moves these days. I have heard people say that a million times, I have probably said it too much myself, but it is so crazy true that an unpleasant 20-minutes can feel like a lifetime, and a month can feel like a blink. It makes me want to shout, "Unfair!" and shake my fist at the heavens, but at the same time, I like moving forward. I wouldn't want to stay the same forever. Gah. I am caught between the life-drive and death-drive, digging my heels in to slow things down every chance I get, and yet wanting to fast forward to nap times and bed times and reunions and vacations.

When Natalie was a tiny baby, I would get these sweeping waves of sadness every so often at how brief everything is. Jason would come home from work to find me cuddling our sleeping child with bright red circles around my eyes, whisper singing, "Slipping Through My Fingers."

Yikes.

But then later that same night, while I counted to a billion in my head and tried not to focus on my sore everything as I bounced our baby, I would hiss through the darkness of our bedroom, "This is the longest night of my life!"

I wish I could keep it all. I wish I could remember it all. Even the bad stuff. It seems like this exquisitely sad and beautiful thing to have suffered a little because you love someone. 

Day 22: Schlaf It Up

Here's what happens when you are too tired:

1. You eat breakfast, then forget that you already ate breakfast, so you eat it again. Then you wonder why you feel too full and too sleepy, and you suddenly remember: that'll be the two breakfasts. Then you eat lunch.

2. You pour yourself a glass of water, which overflows. You don't notice this fact until you slosh your overfilled glass all over yourself.

3. You think you are in mourning because you feel so lousy, so you spend at least ten minutes of serious sorrow and misery until you realize that you are not sad, just extremely tired.

If all of those things resonate with you, then it is likely you are me. And you are too tired.

I had such a cool thing happen to me today. I have mentioned before and I am mentioning again right this second that I have not been getting enough sleep lately, which as you can imagine (and probably even relate to), is rough. It takes a toll on your bod, not to mention your short term memory. Did I tell you I poured water on myself today? I am too tired.

Such was not always the case. I have volumes of pictures in my Californian home of me sleeping in every possible sleep venue. It was something I took pride in. It was something my siblings took full advantage of. What's that you say? This is the most interesting movie of all time? Wel-hel-hel, we'll just see if it keeps me awa-zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. And she's gone. With her eyes open. Sitting up. Let's take a picture.

Which is how I ended up with about a thousand of these:

Believe it or not, that's me sleeping.

I obviously need to make some changes so I can function during the day, but I have been having trouble making a concrete plan of what to do with myself and my babe at night to maximize sleeping happiness. Maybe it's because we are all so tired, too, but the Internet can get a little touchy on this subject. There are some opinionated sleepers out there, and they will not pull any punches.

The thing is, I do not enjoy being punched. Sleeping with babies is not a fun subject to talk about with strangers, especially since parenting and nursing and napping all come into the mix, too. People want to feel confident about the choices they make as parents, so sometimes they can come off pushy or mean or judgey even when they don't mean to. And sometimes they even do mean to! In the words of my friends daughter, "Why, that's not kind!"

I really do believe that God cares about us and that the things that are important to us matter to Him, because He loves us (there is a great talk on this subject that you can read here). In the long run, I probably won't even remember missing a few days of sleep, but it would really help me in the day to day grind. So, I pray for guidance on this subject and hope to be aware of resources that can help me.

Then, just today in my hazy funk, I found these great videos with tips from mothers who have similar parenting styles as me. It was a simple thing, but I felt like it was an answer to my prayers. It confirmed to me not only that God is aware of me and my sleep probs, but that there are whole networks of people looking for ways to help and strengthen each other. Suddenly I felt a sense of connection and unity to these otherwise strangers. I felt grateful to them and grateful to God for linking me to things that would help me.

Guys, in a couple weeks, you are going to see me and I am going to look like this:

 
I can't wait. Hallelujah!

Day 21: Give Away, oh Give Away

Give

                                  —the Little Stream

I hope that title is not misleading anyone. The only thing I am giving away today is the gift of knowledge.

But, what a gift, eh? I try.

I want to tell you a true story that I read in an Anne Lamott book (Bird by Bird) about an eight-year-old boy whose little sister was dying of leukemia. His parents told him that his sister needed a blood transfusion to save her life, and his blood would probably be compatible with hers. They asked if they could test to see if it was; he said they could. When they found out that his blood was a match, they asked if he would give his sister a pint of his blood. He said he would think about it overnight.

In the morning, he told his parents he would be willing to donate the blood. They took him to the hospital and he was placed on a gurney right next to his sister. They hooked him up to an IV, then withdrew his blood and brought it over to the girl. A few minutes later, the doctor came over to check on them, and the boy looked up at him and asked, "How soon until I start to die?"

I love that story. I love to think of that little boy who probably struggled through the night thinking about what he had to do to save his sister. I can imagine him side by side with his poor little sis, closing his eyes and thinking that he is breathing his last breaths. I love to imagine the relief he must have felt when he learned that not only would he be saving his sister, but he was going to live! Imagine how his parents would have felt hearing the story! It is one of my favorite examples of giving.

There is a quote from George Q. Cannon that I had saved on my phone and read to myself over and over again when I wanted to feel looked after:

Now, this is the truth. We humble people, we who feel ourselves sometimes so worthless, so good-for-nothing, we are not so worthless as we think. There is not one of us but what God’s love has been expended upon. There is not one of us that He has not cared for and caressed. There is not one of us that He has not desired to save and that He has not devised means to save. There is not one of us that He has not given His angels charge concerning. We may be insignificant and contemptible in our own eyes and in the eyes of others, but the truth remains that we are children of God and that He has actually given His angels … charge concerning us, and they watch over us and have us in their keeping.

I think that, like that 8-year-old boy, we can be angels to one another. We can take care of one another and do what we can to make each other's lives better. And like this 8-year-old boy, any amount of sacrifice on our part is rewarded even more than we can imagine.

President Spencer W. Kimball said, "God does notice us, and he watches over us. But it is usually through another person that he meets our needs. Therefore, it is vital that we serve each other."

And then M. Russel Ballard very helpfully told us how to do that. He said, "In your morning prayer each new day, ask Heavenly Father to guide you to recognize an opportunity to serve one of His precious children. Then go throughout the day with your heart full of faith and love, looking for someone to help...If you do this, your spiritual sensitivities will be enlarged and you will discover opportunities to serve that you never before realized were possible."

Take care, guys. Remember the Little Stream, "There is something all can give." 

Day 20: Noblesse Oblige

When my sister Heather and I were in elementary school, we had a mutual teacher with a cra-zowski laugh. It was the sound of a donkey bleating backwards: "haw haw haw," but sucked in instead of expelling the air out. Try it out now, da funk soul brother! Weird, right? 

We thought so, too, which is why we did it ALL the time, resulting in way too much giggling UNTIL we BECAME that moon-walkin' donkey.

DA-da-DUNNNN!

It's true! We laughed like that as a joke so much that it eventually came our own weird laugh. And to this day sometimes one or both of us will gasp for air recovering from some hilarious tale, and I'll think, "Aw. We learned this in school together."

You think we would have learned our lesson and refrained from experimenting with unique laughter but it didn't stop there. We tested out the hard stuff from time to time (you know who you are, Crazy Laugh McChowsend), which has caused us to both develop irregular rhythms in our organic laughter that change based on how funny something is. 

This is how Heather mostly laughs, though: "tee hee HEE HEE HEE HEE!"

So basically, you know, one of the top sounds in my UNIVERSE! It brings me so much joy to hear that wild tinkling. 

Just about every day, we have this conversation:

Me: What should I write about today, Heath?

Heath: You should write about me, of course.

Me: I think I'll write about Sting.

Heath: tee hee HEE HEE HEE HEE.

I am not going to even go into how much I adore my big sissy, because we ha'nt the time, but I will say this, she is the beard to my unibrow. She brings an inexpressible amount of joy to my life and I hope and pray that Natalie can have a sister one day.

Love you, sis. 

Thanks for the example to follow. 

And the hand-me-downs.

I love the hand-me-downs.

Heather used to have a whopper of a crush on a boy from school, for the sake of the story, we'll call him Alan Bow-Nell. We were probably around 8 and 10 respectively, and while my dreams of marriage centered around one, Bill Pullman,

(Bill, you feathered-hair demi-god)

Heather had set her sights on someone a little closer to her own age. Alan lived just houses away from Heather's best bud, Shayna.

The pain of secret longing became too much to bear for my sis, so one day while we played over at Shayna's house, she decided to leave a secret love note at his house.

We scoured clip-art for an appropriate romantic image and typed a heart-felt, fairly strait-forward message:

We printed it out on Shayna's computer, which was running out of ink, so the colors were all off, but you know what they say, a rose by any other printer still looks like love. Then, we sneaked over to Alan's house, dropped the note, and ran like the dickens.

Alan's brother was buds with Shayna's, so it wasn't unusual for him to call a few minutes after while our hearts were still pounding from the thrill of the race for romance, but he cut to the chase pretty quick--

"Hey, did Shayna just stop by our house?"

And then, like a hero, Sean responded, "I don't know, but Heather's here." 

"Well, cause I know your printer's been being weird..."

Heather's and my eyes locked. He knows!

Things didn't end up working out between Heather and Alan Bow-Nell, but it was all for the best. She later met the love of her life, and she is probably leaning over her laptop right now remembering our escapades fondly while whispering "tee hee hee."

I love you, sister-girl and see your "tee hee," with my own my own "ha h h h h h." Thanks for brightening my life and inspiring this post. You are every good thing.