God Winks

Last night, as I was sitting in Stake Conference, the whole setting brought flashbacks of zone conferences on my mission. That immediately made me think of my mission president, and for the rest of the meeting, I thought of him. He passed away nearly two years ago of a brain tumor. At the time, I was very pregnant with the twins and unable to attend either the mission reunion just before his passing, or the funeral. I tried several times to write him a letter, but was never able to express in writing what I really wanted to say, so it didn't happen (that's the "all or nothin'" girl in me.) Since then, I've thought about him many times and I usually end up in tears, wishing he could know how grateful I am for the inspiration and example he was, and still is in my life. I was thinking about all of this again last night, wondering if he knows when people are thinking about him (as I often wonder about the deceased), and I imagined that he could hear me. I began thanking him directly in my heart and mind, as if he was right there. Then, the meeting came to an and and the closing hymn was announced. It was President McKittrick's favorite hymn: "Be Still My Soul."

How could that be coincidence?? I don't believe it was. It put a smile on my face.

There are so many things in life that happen like that. It seems the more I recognize them and credit God for them, the more they happen; as if He enjoys being noticed and does it all the more!

I can think of a dozen different times over the years when I've received a phone call or have run into someone just when I needed it, whether I recognized it at the time or not. I've recently had a long string of people, events and information come my way after praying to be taught about some physical problems that set in with my last pregnancy; a perfectly synchronized string of directions- like those crowded parking lot attendants who point the way at every corner til you find an open slot. It's been fascinating to experience, and I'm still in the middle of it (I'll post more about this later.) There's no way it's coincidental.

Here's a favorite variation on the theme:
I used to imagine having twin girls. It wasn't a "wishing," but more like a "knowing." Except that I always thought I was ridiculous for thinking it. This was years ago, after Luke was born. I imagined twin girls, not twin boys, or a boy and a girl- two girls. I even had names for them: Miriam and Madeline. I always thought my first daughter would be Miriam, but when Abby was born, she was not Miriam, she was Abigail. Then, when the twin thing started showing up in my mind, I figured Miriam would be one of the twins. But when my third was born, and was a girl and was not a twin, I started thinking I was ridiculous again, and decided I'd better use the name Miriam while I could, because what were the chances I would ever have twin girls after this? Plus, she looked just like I'd imagined Miriam. So there she was. Two years later, I was expecting again, and picked up a book about my Grandmother's ancestors. I happened to open to a section about a family who had 3 sets of twins. I wondered if it ran in the family (my grandmother had twins,) and remembered the twin girls I'd imagined. Then, a friend of mine found out she was having twins. I had all kinds of questions for her, because, secretly, I wondered if I was expecting twins, too. The only thing that kept me from knowing was my own self doubt.

How many times do we do that? How many things could I "know" about my life or my future if I didn't think I was being ridiculous? In fact, there are more recurring thoughts I've had in the past few years about my life, but I wouldn't dare mention them here, because you'd probably think I was ridiculous, and so would I.

So, as we all know, I really was expecting twins. When the nurse told me at my ultrasound, my first reactions inside went up to Heavenly Father. At that moment, I honestly had the feeling that he was looking down at me with a smile and a wink.

A few weeks ago, I picked up a book at the Dollar Store titled When God Winks at You. It looked like a quick, fun read, all about how God speaks through coincidence. It got me thinking about all of this. A few days later, I randomly ran across mention of the book The Celestine Prophecy, as a book about coincidence. The funny thing about that book is that I have been toting it around with me for years- I'm talking 15 years- and I have never read it. This wouldn't be strange except that I have fiercely weeded out my books about 5 times over the last 10 years, and for some reason, I always hold on to that one. I haven't known the first thing about it. I went to my bookcase last week, and there it was. So, now, The Celestine Prophecy is sitting on my nightstand with about 5 other books I'm in the process of reading but not finishing. And the fun continues. I read the first chapter, and guess where the story begins: Charlottesville, Virginia, right next door to us.

Is it all coincidence??? I'll let you know as soon as I finish this book....about, um, coincidence. I'm pretty sure God just threw this one in for the fun of it.

Night Vision

A frazzled Creighton read my post about Luke the other night and gave me a little look that said "Isn't this a little over the top, Trishy-Trish-Trish?"



I admit I'm idealistic when I write. I venerate my kids and my good man like we all do our ancestors, whether or not they were really just regular joes.... like me....and my kids, and...my good man.



It's just that- underneath all the usual exasperation of battling wills and ways,




I see these sweet, innocent, amazing little people.



It's usually at night, watching them sleep. Or on my knees, when all the mistakes of one day come rushing back to me, and I vow reform for the sake of their little souls.



And mine.




This is when I see them with my heart.




Transferring that vision to the heat of the day is a work in progress.



Except with these little Hoo-Haws.



Know what I love most about having twins?



Belly laughs in surround-sound.

Yummy To My Tummy

Am I the last person on the planet to know about these?! I picked up a few at the grocery store today after reading the 5 PURE INGREDIENTS on the label, and Abby and I tore open a couple after dinner. YUM! Yum-Yum-Yum! I mean as far as little tasty treats go in the world of whole foods. Yum! So, earlier, I'm thinking to myself: "Yes! I'll just cut these in half and stick them in the kids lunches. But saaay- wouldn't it be great if they came in snack size?..."

Low and Behold-- check this out:

http://www.larabar.com

Am I Doing Something Right?

Or is it Luke? It's been a summer of transformation for Luke. All of a sudden I look at him and see a big boy. And not just in size. I find myself carrying on intellectual conversations with him. Letting him in on Mom and Dad's inside jokes. Explaining people and the world to him. And he gets it. Luke was baptized a couple of weeks ago. He was so excited. But also somewhat serious about this big event. At his baptism interview, the Bishop asked him if he had any questions. Luke hesitated for a few seconds, and then replied: "Well, I'm just a little concerned about Everlasting Life."

I love that he thinks BIG. Every day is filled with grand possibilities. As a baby, he could never nap longer than 10 minutes. I had the sense, even then, that he couldn't bear to miss out on anything. Nothing's changed. He is my latest to bed and earliest to rise. My Energizer Bunny. Several times a week, he will tell me how much he wishes he never had to sleep. There's so much he'd rather be doing. I'm right with you Luke! There are so many things I'd rather do with my time than sleep, too. Now, if only I could get myself up with the sun like you! Oh, the things I could do!

I was flipping through his school notebook yesterday and saw a fact sheet on himself that asked what he wants to be when he grows up. His response: A Miner. Hmm... we do live close to West Virginia, but hopefully we can re-direct his aspirations on that one. Actually, I'm sure he means a Gold Miner. He's convinced that it's still a viable occupation- you know- in the hills of California. Tonight, he showed me a sketch of the floor plan for his dream home. A substantial portion of the house was marked off and labeled: "Dollar Room." For all his money, he told me. [he had drawn in piles of gold coins]. I told you he thinks BIG.

Luke is a good boy. He just is. I can never get too upset with him, because on the whole, he's just so darn obedient and attentive. I'm starting to realize that some of that comes from his knowing how to work the adult system (good boys get the most goods, of course), but I believe it's also in his nature. Yesterday, I was in the kitchen and he called to me from the family room, in his pleasant, Beaver Cleaver voice: "Mom, I'm going to bounce off the walls now, okay?"

[!WHAT?!] Actually, that's what my real response was. But then I just had to laugh that he had kindly informed me beforehand!

Luke! You are larger than life. Your spirit is so big, I sometimes forget that inside of you is still my little boy. And sometimes, that little boy in you still just wants a Mommy. I am in awe at your love of life, your thirst for knowledge, your craving for adventure and your desire to tap into the utmost possibilities for you and the universe. I sometimes can't keep up with the constant flow of energy and intensity that oozes from your being, but you certainly keep things in motion in our home. I LOVE you, Luke! The moment you were born, I was overwhelmed with love, and that has not changed. It will never change. Love, for Me, is all wrapped up in You.

Happy 8th Birthday and Baptism!

Someone Heard Me Whine

My blog last night must have been sent out into the universe, and definitely to heaven, because no one showed up to work on the kitchen this morning until 11:30 [chorus of angels singing]. Wow! It's only 12:30 and I've managed to prepare and feed everyone two good meals and move my pantry from the mudroom to the rec-room (major check-off) on top of showering (not easy), doing dishes, starting laundry, going for a walk, cleaning up several double-trouble mini disasters and simply being Mommy. I suppose all of that is part of being "Mommy," but I mean the One- on-One Mommy. As for the other Mommy, I figure if I can accomplish one extra task every day beyond the normal routine, I'm doing good. That can be as big as moving the pantry, or as small as cleaning out a drawer, or sorting through a pile of papers. It doesn't always happen, especially if I start coming up with grander and grander tasks that only end up mentally overwhelming me to the point that I can't accomplish anything. Managability is key, or the ability to work on a task in stages. I'm not great at that. I'm a little too "all or nothing" for my own good right now. My two latest tasks were borderline unmanagable and have been mental blocks for weeks. Yesterday it was cleaning a rug that's been sitting in our garage for two years so I can use it. Check. Even in my muddy state. Check. I forgot to feel good about that. But what feels even better, is that with a little bit of order today, I am now free to put babies down for a nap and sit with Miri for awhile to do whatever her little middle-child heart desires. Thank you Worker Men! Thanks for being lazy, or busy, or whatever you were this morning that allowed me some peace and space. I was determined to persevere in spite of you today, but what a nice jump start!

My Inner Cottage

I read a C.S. Lewis quote today about how God is clanking around inside us building castles instead of cottages. I'd be happy with a mud hut. I'm a mess. Probably because someone(s) really is clanking around in my real house and it's total chaos. Has been for about a month now. I'm ready to send everyone home. You know how I said I finally got everything unpacked and in it's place, oh, about 6 weeks ago? Well, about a week after that, after realizing how dysfunctional our 25 year old kitchen really was (and to think I was just going to reface the cabinets and call it good), I got on Craigslist and found an ad for a display kitchen that was being sold for peanuts (okay, gilded peanuts). This kitchen matched, almost exactly, a kitchen we did in one of our other homes- a style I copied from a magazine and have never seen before or since- and my favorite of all the kitchens we've done. So, obviously this was a sign from God, right? We had to buy it. We would end up spending far more in the long run. And, that meant we suddenly threw ourselves into remodel mode- just after I had finished unpacking. Oh. My. Gosh. I don't know about you, but when my home is in chaos, my whole soul is in chaos. And I've learned that when my kitchen doesn't function, I do not function. How pathetic is that? Maybe not so much- especially after being nearly knocked down just from the move. There's something about messing with the kitchen that makes it a knock-down drag-out fight for me with so many young children at home all day. More than ever, what and when we eat is central to our daily rhythm, routine and basic well-being, and having that thrown out of whack has sent me into a tail-spin past few weeks. I crave order in my life. For me, it's a basic need, almost akin to breathing. When I have order, my creative juices flow, my mind and spirit are free to be and do. When there is chaos, everything comes to a grinding halt. I wish I was better than that. I wish it didn't affect me so much- that I could just blow it all off and smile and go on as if there weren't four different men traipsing in and out for weeks on end, drilling, sawing, wiring, sanding, pounding and leaving a layer of fine dust in their wake that covers every inch of my house, every single day. I am very grateful for these men, and that we can even re-do our kitchen at this point, but for some reason, my gratitude has yet to transform the crumbling walls of my inner cottage. I'm all slops of mud inside.

So if you have any little piggies, go ahead and send them on over!

Here's to Spontaneity

Boy, I'm on a roll. I still can't handle reading books at night once I finally sit down. My eyes burn too much (does that mean something?) But I can write. Of course, I always wake up the next morning thinking: "what in the world did I just say." Good thing it's my blog, and my musings are "Unofficial." That means I can always claim temporary insanity, or brain fog, or simply just change my mind about anything I say. Alright? Alright.

The beach was...well...everything you can imagine with a hurricane off the coast. It was all laughing and fun til everyone got soaking wet (10 minutes in). The wind was whipping so hard it was blowing sand up into the air, which then stuck to every wet body part. For some reason, the littlest ones didn't really like having sand stick to their eyeballs. Of course, it didn't help that it was just me with all the kids (long story). The lifeguard thought I was crazy. I am crazy. Luke was having a gay old time whooping it up in the waves, while I did my best to keep the twins from being washed away, and tried to talk some sense into a melting Miri (trying to talk sense into Miri accounts for at least 50% of my total verbal communication on any given day.) Sweet Abby just did her best to be happy and helpful. We lasted about 30 minutes. Victory! Spent the rest of the afternoon in the hotel pool.

The sun came out this evening, so we might give it another try tomorrow. Fortunately, we just came along with Creighton on a business trip at the last minute (Virginia Beach), so it's not like all our dreams and plans have been crushed by the weather- we had no dreams or plans for this one. It is what it is. Sometimes those are the best trips to go on. No expectations whatsoever. Except for the hotel experience. For some reason, no matter how miserable every other hotel stay has been with a passel of little ones, no matter how often we've sworn them off til the children reach puberty, we somehow manage to completely and utterly forget our fierce resolutions. We still always look forward to staying in a hotel. We get just as excited as the kids do. It only takes about 15 minutes- long enough for us to throw the bags on the floor and have everyone stake out their beds and squeal over the toiletries and the view, before things start to unravel. The bed jumping begins, chaos sets in, and Craig and I go into sensory overload. This is really not my idea of family fun- at least not the hotel part. I much prefer field trips close to home over extended vacations and hotel stays at this stage of life. When all is said and done, I think the kids do too.

But here's to Virginia Beach!