Could It be Any More Different than the First Time, Really?

Stefani was 18 months old, Cory was 11 years old, with three other children in between the two of them. (In case you lost count that makes a total of five.) There were about 15 or so deacons and teachers running around my house. Literally. You see, scout camp started the next morning at 4:30 AM and John, who had been serving as the young men’s president, decided it would be better to wake up one household rather than 15. There wasn’t a quiet corner to be found, let alone room. So much so, that when President Pickering stopped by to speak with the newly called bishop (my husband) they had to go out to his car to discuss some much needed church business. I remember after a noisy goodbye, which probably woke up every surrounding neighbor (so much for the 'only wake up one household theory’. After all, have you ever been around a bunch of deacons getting ready to leave for scout camp? Well, if not I can tell you they are as giddy as girls, they just do it louder.) But I digress… After every door had been slammed (each about 20 times)and every enthusiastic scout had been strapped in, I dragged my ever so tired feet to the bedroom. It had been a long end to a very emotional day. As I finally laid my head down the clock read 4:45 AM. That was almost exactly 20 years ago and now, the comparison is shouting at me in silent realms. John has once again been called to be bishop (he is hoping the third time is the charm). I have been home from church, about an hour it almost 8:00 PM. The newly called bishop (my husband) is at a stake youth fireside. It is dark outside and the only sound to be heard in my home is that of my keyboard as I type. To add to the ambiance of my solitude, it is raining outside. Instead of a baby Stefani in my arms, a grown Stefani is in Hawaii on her honeymoon, in her husbands arms. My once then deacons are now 29 and thirty years old, in addition, a sister who is 27 and a brother 25. All are married, all live far away from us and now I look at the walls and dare them to talk, shout, say anything but they look at me in mocking silence and dare me to complain. Mind you, complaining I am not, just trying to decide which is better. Actually, there is no deciding. The household full of deacons and unattended children because I am busy trying to save the lamp or the flower vase that just got knocked over by the deacon who is running from the teacher, is the kind of silence that is golden. It is the kind of "silence" I prefer.

But alas, memories only speak so loud and for so long. It is still quiet…and I am still alone. Really, could it be any more different…Note to self: get on Skype, turn the volume up on the computer as loud as it will go and enjoy the sound of grandchildren. Life just keeps on giving doesn't it? Could it be any more better, really?

What more could a mother ask for?

In one short week from this morning John and I will stand with all of our children and their spouses in the holiest of places, the temple of the Lord. All of our grandchildren, will be waiting outside the temple doors (with the exception of our perfect Clairisa, whom I am certain will be with us in the sealing room), having parents who sacrificed much, so that their children could see first hand the expereince and promise of eternal families, our family! I have prayed for this day since the moment a tiny baby boy was laid in my arms nearly 31 years ago. As each new child came into my life the same sweet prayer was whispered in their behalf and has stayed a part of my thoughts and prayers ever since. Notwithstanding the beautiful daughter that has brought this culminating dream to fruition. Our Stefani.

I have been a witness to selfless charity throughout my stay here as I as watched Stefani and Amber work together. Amber's constant wish to have Stefni's dreams and desires met for this cuminating event has touched my heart and taught my spirit. She is every bit the sister anyone would want and need! I have seen them laugh together, I have seen them serve each other, I have seen them move on to the more important tasks at hand when communication or exhaustion may have caused a stressful moment (or two). I have listened to prayers that are too sacred to share as their love for each other has been expressed.

I give thanks to my Father in Heaven, an ever loving Savior and my children for allowing me to know the joy of having each of them walk in the ways of the Lord.

The love that each of our children have for one another is beyond my ability to express, the only thing that comes to mind are the words "by their fruits ye shall know them".
What more could a mother ask for?

Majestically Speaking

Yesterday as I went out for my morning run, I faced the mountians and stopped for a moment to take in the view. The morning air was cool and refreshing with a touch of cloud cover. As I looked up at the mountains that frame the Utah Valley I wondered if the word majestic was formed foremost to describe such a scene? Their magnificent beauty touched my soul, almost calling me back to my one time home. I savored the magicstic moment, or rather magestic. I pondered upon their creator and marveld anew at Him, surely as the creator of such a miracle, imagine His magnificence?!

Here Kitty Kitty...Nice Kitty Kitty

Let me make a disclaimer right up front, I never actually saw the kitty, but since I tend to live in world of what if"s, I voice my concern.

Early morning exercise in Las Vegas can cause a lone woman to factor saftey issues in while planning her early morning workout. However, I did not factor in the latest scenario: Walking a bike home that you gave a flat tire to because of sheer ignornace (or stupidity, whichever you choose to think) while a tiger is on the loose. I don't even think pepper spray would render the cat harmless, but then who carries pepper spray?

Lance Armstrong I am not!

Donned with Amber's helmet, gloves and biking shorts I climbed upon her bike and with a few minor instructions from Vaughn, set off for a morning workout. However, have any of you ever used clip-on pedals before? Hmm.... not so easy to get used to. At least for this biking guru. Actually, after a few trial stops and starts I felt I was doing pretty good. I still was a little uneasy but felt if I was careful I would be fine. I was having such a great time! In fact I set a new path in my mind, changing from the one Vaughn had instructed me on because I wanted to bike further. Stopping, starting, I was kind of getting a handle (or rather pedal) on it all.

Feeling confident I stepped onto the bike to cross a major intersection after the light change and got about two feet and fell. I just tipped right over because there wasn't anything I could do about it, my feet were locked in and I hadn't enough momentum to keep me going. Fortunately, they popped out (I don't know how?). I quickly jumped up and walked my bike across the rest of the street before the light changed back. Embarrassing??? Well, not as much as when I looked up to see waiting for me at the other side of the street was a policeman/car. lights and all to check on me! Yea, now THAT was embarrassing! As quickly as I could, I reassured him that no, I didn't need him to call someone to check me out and yes I was fine and thank you very much, yes those pedal clips are difficult to get used to. All too soon, I headed back to my challenge at hand; getting on the proverbial bike after the fall. Perhaps getting away from the kind policeman was just the motivation I needed.

I continued to do great until my return back, apparently that street corner became my nemesis because not long after crossing it I found myself making a split decision to either stay on the road or get up on the side walks. (Even as I type this I can almost hear the Lance Armstrong wannabe's groaning, but I can only plead ignorance because I didn't know my expensive borrowed bike was meant only for the road.) Anyway, my decision at hand came a second to late and I caught just a small piece of the curb but enough of it to find myself...well Amber's bike with a flat tire. Urgg... And I was having such a good time too! Now I had to face humility at its worst and call Amber and fess up I needed a ride home. I would have walked the remaining six or seven miles home (apparently I am that prideful) but I was worried that I would ruin Amber's clip-on shoes and or the rim of her wheel. So I hung my head and placed the call. She was so sweet and did not make me feel like the idiot I was. In fact she took most of the blame stating, she should have given me more instruction. Now, she and I both know that probably would not have helped given my inability to follow directions properly, but just the same it did help to bring balm to my wounded pride. Thanks to you Amber.

The good side of this? At least Lance Armstrong wasn't around to witness my humiliation of the sport.