A Poetic Moment

Today, very early, around 6:55 am, I walked across the parking lot to work. My building lays situated near the duck pond at the center of campus, and so we often get visitors to the various lots and sidewalks. Today, as the sun was peaking up over the mountains, while there was still a calmness to campus before the insurgence of students, I encountered four Canadian geese, standing still as statues. Not a feather ruffled, or leg twitched. I stood in awe for a moment of such a sight, of nature juxtaposed against modernity of asphalt and I communed.

As I walked towards these creatures, it was not until I was about four feet away, that they even twitched. Then quite suddenly, one arched it back and spread it's wings as if in a display of avian grandeur. There was no honking, or even a sound and they waddled off towards the pond. I am not quite sure what brought them from their comfortable habitat, but it was a spectacular poetic moment, one that stayed with me all day. What are your poetic moments? How do they inspire you? Just a few questions to ponder!

Musing on Mother's Day

I've spent a bit of time Musing about Mother's Day. I'm not quite prepared for it, for the celebration of what my own mother means to me, nor how I quite fit into the picture with my own children. So, in leu of gifts, cards, or chocolates, I will share my thoughts about motherhood.

I have a number of memories of my mother from my youth. Some happy, some poignent, and some sad. Thoughts on my own mother:

• My mom bought me a hideously expensive dress when I was in ninth-grade, complete with rhinestones, lace, and moccasin boots. (Yes, this was the '80's!) I wore it to a school dance and LOVED how I looked it in. Unfortunately I also was wearing bright pink lipstick and left it in the pocket when I sent it to the laundry. My beautiful, expensive dress was ruined. I was horrified that I would have serious repercussions from my mom, but all she did was hug me and tell me that it was lesson learned. The lesson I took from that is that children are more important than things. I was more important than a dress, and I knew that she loved me.
• While very young, I remember watching my mother iron her temple clothes. She would take good care of them and I knew that the temple was an important part of her life.
• I always knew that my mother would drop anything to help me. While in college, and I was moving apartments, she came and helped me move my things even though I had less than an hour's notice to vacate my old apartment. Only a mother would be willing to help her child without thinking about what it meant for her.

Thoughts on my own mothering:

• I never knew the extent of what a mothers' love could reach until I had children of my own. The oft expressed sentiment of having your heart walk outside of your body is so true. Looking at the face of my first born for the first time, was the moment that the world shifted and I just knew how much a mother loved.
• My children are very vocal about how much they love me. It makes all the hard times worth it when a small hand slips into mine, and I hear the words, "I love you, Mom."
• Time passes faster than I ever imagined it could as I watch my children grow by leaps and bounds. I wonder if I can teach them all the things that I need to before they fly from me. I hope that I can be the mother that I need to be for each of them.

There are so many more memories and thoughts that can't be written here. May we all take a moment today, and everyday to honor the memory of what our mothers gave to us, what they continue to give, and what we give our own children.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom! I love you!

Spider's Cloth

Tela de araña, means spider's cloth, or cobweb in Spanish. I remember the day I learned this term, and how I love the imagery that this phrase evokes. I was in an area of Uruguay, one that had its ups and downs for me as a missionary. I don't have many fond memories of this barren place, but a few stand out in my mind, one of which is spider's cloth.

It was summer in the 'Guay, (an affectionate term) and the weather was truly prone to some heavy summer showers. I remember walking along the road near the chapel after a drenching rainfall, my yellow rubber boots making a sucking, squishing noise on the sidewalk. There, in the voids of the wrought iron fence was the most amazing piece of artistic wonder. Hanging, suspended by just a few strands, glistening with the jewels of rain, was this wonderfully strong creation of nature. Did you know that a spider's web is strong? I doesn't seem to be when we carelessly whisk them from the corners of our homes with dusters and damp rags. They simply disappear into grayish clumps of 'stuff' on the end of our cloth. It is said that a web is as strong as steel when compared at the same weight. How very interesting.

There are a number of comparisons I could come up with tonight about the strength of something so flimsy looking, or the seemingly destructive beauty of something so innocent looking, but I won't. I just love the phrase, spider's cloth. While you may not agree, it seems a bit like poetry to me. I love the image. It is something I've been thinking about al day as I have a couple of scenes running through my head. It would be easy to get caught up into the minutia of details or forget them entirely in order to complete the idea. A delicate balance between too much and too little.

Not my friend, but my parent

Today we attended a "Mormon Wake." What the heck is that, you may ask. Well, I'll tell you, it was......interesting. Dan's grandfather passed away last week, and today was his funeral. It did not follow the regular funeral where songs were sung, and tears were shed. This was a day of family, friends, and remembrances, and a great deal of laughter.

Instead of talks, or eulogies, family members had the opportunity to stand and talk about this man who had made an impression on them. Dan's uncle said something that really struck me, "He wasn't my friend, he was my father." Of course he was referring to the discipline he received over the years, but it still hit me with a resounding "ah-ha."

I am very lucky in the fact that I do have a friendship with both of my parents, as well as the parent/child relationship that has always been there. No, it wasn't always that way, but as I've grown up and matured, so has our connections. That being said, I can truly say that when I was growing up, my parents were parents and not my friends. They were responsible for me and my actions and made sure that I towed the line.

I see so many individuals these days that are looking for that "friendship" factor in their relationships with their teenagers, that they are willing to sacrifice the parenting role. I see it at the mall when shopping for clothes. A mom and daughter start out by looking at the racks of shirts, and the daughter gravitates to the low cut, or midriff baring style. A mother who is trying to be the "friend" will squeal in delight and not once mention modesty or offer something more appropriate. They lock arms after purchasing the shirt and head off to the food court. Anything to avoid the confrontation and contention associated with making right choices.

It is a very fine line, that must be trod by parents today. I look at my own daughter and wonder how I'm going to do it when she reaches puberty and notices boys for the first time. How does one be accessible and approachable, all the while being the parent of a hormone-racked teen?

What better tribute can we ask for than that of "She was my mother?" Isn't that exactly what we signed up for when we opened up our wombs for these precious gifts? I think we all aspire to the hope that our children will like us as well as love us. I know that I do. I crave those times when my children will snuggle up to my side and whisper covertly into my ear that they love me. I know that there are days when they don't like me, and that is the joy of unconditional love!

I hope and pray that someday I will be friends with my children as well as their mother, but for now, I'm going to remember that the most important thing I can do for them is to be the parent. The parent who teaches, loves, inspires, comforts, and does so much more. I am mother, hear me roar!

Randomness

Today has been random. Random? Yes. I can't quite put my finger on why, but there it is. I feel like I have scurried to and from nowhere and everywhere. Much like the Hare in Alice in Wonderland, always rushing someplace, late, for a very important date, but having no idea exactly what that date is or where it is being held.

Here are some very random thoughts that I had today amidst all the scurrying:

• When it rains it pours, except when you are in a freaking hurricane.
• All that it takes to make your nine year old happy is to figure out how to plug in the karaoke microphone from High School Musical.
• My children are growing up way too fast because they can take off on their bikes and leave me behind worrying.
• Life isn't fair, and it really sucks when it gets shoved in your face.
• Corn grows really fast in egg carton containers, and really slowly in the garden.
• I'm the only one I can force to have a good day, good attitude, and good disposition, but even then it doesn't always work.
• Complaining will get you nowhere, and it just disappoints everyone around you.
• I need to be a better mother, friend, neighbor, daughter, etc.
• If a picture is worth a thousand words, why do I love to write so darn much

So not interesting stuff. Just random. Like my day. What has your day been like?

Tears

I've done a lot of crying the past few days. From my previous post, you know that there have been some serious trials being born by some loved ones.

Tears are known to be therapeutic and good for the soul. Just because they can be brought on by sadness doesn't mean that they do not have their benefit. I just wish my eyes didn't hurt so darn bad!

I don't cry in that attractive way that some people do. Their eyes glisten, and a tear here and there leave a trail of wetness, and they seem so stalwart and strong. I on the other hand, do not glisten or seem stalwart. My nose swells and turns red. I sob, shudder, and carry on. My chest heaves and my shoulders shake. My eyes, puff immediately, and I can't see two feet in front of me. Let's just face it, I'm not an attractive crier.

The sad thing is, I cry like this over everything. I can even cry happy tears and look like I've been hit by a Mac truck. It's a good think I was too nervous at my wedding to cry, or Dan may have run away by the hideous transformation of his bride. Can you just imagine him running down the street yelling to shelter your children and hide in the basement from the monster he just uncovered? Yeah, good thing.

I hope the week coming up is less of an emotional roller coaster, but I doubt it. We will attend a a funeral and continue to pray for Amanda. I will probably still have residual hormonal issues, and still feel the wonderful after effects of Women's Conference. I don't know why tears always give us headaches, or why we all can't be elegant weepers. I just know that there are times in our lives when tears seem to flow all that more, and there is nothing we can do to stem the tide.

The quickest post ever!

We have a huge day a head of us, but I wanted to stop by my blog and just express appreciation for the blessings I have. I spent the last few days at Women's Conference and came away uplifted, and rejuvenated towards all things in my life. It was especially poignant because I met up with a mission companion that I haven't seen for fourteen, yes, fourteen years! You Rock, Terresa! It was an amazing weekend!

I also had a lot of time to contemplate the trials that a dear friend of mine is passing through right now. Her eight-year old daughter has leukemia and has spent the last two weeks in Primary Children's Hospital getting a diagnosis and starting chemotherapy. The trials my friend and her family are experiencing at this time are mind-boggling and I have spent quite a bit of time praying for her and her daughter.

To top off my weekend, Dan's grandfather passed away. It is truly a blessing. He was 94 years old and had buried two wives. We are grateful that he is out of pain and re-united with his loved ones.

I hope to return tomorrow with other insights and experiences. I have a lot of things to write about!