Soren is SIX

On January 1st, Soren rang in the new year the way he will always ring in the new year: by having a birthday.  

Unfortunately, he was sick.  His birthday celebration was postponed until the following Saturday.  But when Saturday arrived, celebrate we did!  

Here's the birthday boy, eating the chocolate orange the Smiths gave him. He was a little obsessed with that thing and devoured the bulk of it on the first day.    

Notice the gigantic snowflake in the background.  He made it.  

The guests hanging out and playing with balloons.  I tried to initiate a game of hot potato, but Soren wasn't interested.  We've started a tradition of turning the Christmas tree into a birthday tree for Soren.

Soren's cousins pretending to be stars.

Soren requested a "Max" cake again.  This year he wanted it to be based on an episode where Max paints and makes a huge mess.  I emailed Briar a picture and she reproduced it beautifully, freehand, on the cake.  

Soren has wanted a Dream Lite FOREVER and his Grandma and Grandpa Hanson indulged his fantasies.  He's also showing off his wallet, which was made fatter by Nana Forbes' six dollar contribution.

Liam noticed this year that Soren was getting presents and he wasn't getting anything.  It was a little hard to take, but he coped, as he always does, quite well.  

Christmas 2012

On Christmas Eve I helped the boys make gingerbread houses.  Soren's is on the left; Liam's is on the right.  Soren also made the pathway, the doghouse, and the dog bone.  

 Christmas morning. 

The Christmas gift our home teacher, Brother Kinikini, made for us.  Isn't it adorable?  And the cake was delish.

Brothers: January 2013

Soren Update: January 2013

While driving home with the boys tonight I was singing to them about the old lady who swallowed a fly.  I got to the end, the part where she swallows a horse....and Soren stopped me.  "Let's end it this way, okay?  I know an old lady who swallowed a horse...How aporse!  To swallow a horse!"  And then he added on serveral verses, making it "jippotamus to swallow a hippopotamus," "schinoceros to swallow a rhinoceros," "kelephant to swallow an elephant..."   Finally, when she swallowed a giraffe, he said, "She's dead, of course-- what do you think of that!"  He was happy with that for a while, then spent quite a while giggling, in true six-year-old boy fashion, about how hilarious it would be for her to poop out all the animals.  
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A Halloween Planet
(dictated to Mommy as an entry in his Invention Notebook)
The bushes are black and look like bats.  The peoples' heads look like bats, their tummies are ghosts, and they have monster legs.  They also have 12 eyes.  The houses are very, very tall and have lots of bats inside.  There is a ghost monster who has 100,001 eyes.  Its feet will be as long as hundreds of beds.  The water is black and the islands are shaped like bats.  There will be a million billion suns.


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We do not watch "BBC Life," we watch "ABC Life."  Likewise, we do not watch "Mythbusters," we watch "Smithbusters."


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While we were driving home from Grandma's house one evening, Soren asked me why power lines were up so high.  "So that it's harder for people to ruin them or get electrocuted on them," I told him.  "Why can't we just tell people not to touch them?"  he asked.  "Because sometimes people are very dumb and do very dumb things."  He was intrigued by this idea.  "What else do these dumb people do, Mommy?"  "Uh.....they don't brush their teeth before bed," I told him. . "What else do they do?"  "They, um, don't buckle their seatbelts."  "And what else?"  "Er...they run with scissors!"  And for several days afterward, Soren would periodically ask me to tell him more about these dumb people.
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Because he can't whistle, Soren will walk around singing "Foofoofoofoofoo!"

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The Christmas season was a bit rough at our house.  The day after Thanksgiving, we set up two Christmas trees: our main one in the front room and a little one in the boys' room.  The first debacle occurred a week later when Soren decided to move all of the decorations from the tree in the front room to the tree in his bedroom.  Mommy threw a little fit when she returned home from work to find her tree undecorated. The next occurred when he decimated the bedroom tree during a timeout, smashing several ornaments in the process. The third happened when he pushed over and ripped apart the front room tree after not getting his own way.  Then he shredded the adorable Magic Eraser/popsicle stick person he had made as my Christmas gift.  Both the trees were removed and only one returned on Christmas Eve.

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Soren burst through the door after school one day, breathless.  "Mommy!" he called.  "Mommy!  I saw a train with ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY cars and just ONE engine!  I had to run all the way from the bus stop to tell you because I'm not very good at remembering!"

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Soren recently informed me that he has a girlfriend.  "Her name is Brynlee," he told me.  I got to meet Brynlee a few days later while volunteering in his classroom.  She is a very cute little girl.  Upon discovered that I was his mother, she informed me that Soren was very funny.  Then she remarked, "Soren thinks I'm his girlfriend."  "Are you his girlfriend?" I asked.  "No!" she told me.  "I'm just a kid!  Kids just have friends!"

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Soren knew that his Uncle Quentin and Auntie Tailour were traveling across the country with their little baby, Oliver.  When it was his turn to pray, he made sure to ask that they be protected while they traveled.  He came up with this entirely on his own, without prompting or even hearing anyone else pray for their safety.  This was particularly delightful to me because he generally hates to pray and avoids it at all costs.

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Frequently Soren will ask me to tell him "about a bad thing that happened."  He loves to hear stories about times I've been locked out of my house, my car has broken down, or a baby peed on someone.

Modeling some body art.

Oh my gosh, they're touching the same toys and nobody has exploded yet.

Captain Underpants!

Striking some poses.  

On his very first day as a 6-year-old.  Poor little guy was sick, so we had to celebrate a few days later.

Liam Update: January 2013

An image:  We are trick-or-treating, Soren and Liam and I, walking around the block to beg for candy from the neighbors.  Soren is focused on getting treats.  Mommy is focused on getting done.  Liam is trailing behind.  Suddenly, he stops.  A flock of geese passes overhead.   Hands at his sides, head thrown back, his face shines as though he is conversing with the angels.  "Birds!" he calls.  They are miraculous.

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We attempted potty training for a few weeks,  but when I grew weary of hefting a 42-pound kid onto the toilet every hour and STILL washing poop out of underpants, I raised a white flag.  We'll try again soon.
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When people ask Liam how he is, he proudly responds with, "I'm Liam!"
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Liam has been passing through his 3-year-old picky eater phase (at least, I hope it's passing!), so I wasn't terribly surprised when we couldn't persuade him to eat more than a croissant on Thanksgiving.  He then went downstairs to watch football with the cousins and threw up on their leather couch.  I've never seen a room clear so quickly, though as the cousins rushed out, their mother, like a brave firefighter, ran in.  She heroically cleaned up the vomit so I could focus on soothing my sad child.
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In the mornings while I'm exercising I'll occasionally need a little extra weight for squats and lunges.  Liam is always willing to drop whatever he's doing and quietly ride around on my shoulders for a few minutes.  So sweet.
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Liam is always very good about thanking me for things.  "Oh thank you, Mommy," he'll say.
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I gave in to Liam's begging at WinCo one day and let him walk beside me instead of riding in the cart.  I turned my back to pick out some portobello mushrooms and when I turned around, he was gone.  Soren and I ran up and down aisles, desperately trying to find him.  Panicked, I cornered a worker in the produce department.  "My child!  He's missing!  My four-year-old child!"  The worker found someone to call customer service and sent me up to the desk.  We found him on the way there-- walking between two store employees.  Oh Lord, thank you.
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"What are you doing?"
"I'm reading.  What are you doing?"
"Cars."  
(He'll say this even if there is not a car in sight.)
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I caught him giggling in his sleep.  It was so cute.
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Liam scared Mice one day.  Briar said, "Hey!  Be gentle!"  So Liam toddled over to Mice and tried to give him a hug.  "Please hug?   Please hug?"
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When Liam is doing something he thinks is amazing, he'll say "Ahtch dis!"  (Watch this.)

When he's done something he thinks is amazing, he'll shout, "Ah did it!"
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During the past little while, Liam has developed an irrational fear of trains.  Periodically he'll inform us that he's scared.  "What are you scared of?" we'll ask.  "I scared a train," he'll inform us solemnly.  This reminds me of Soren's irrational fear of lions. 
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For his birthday, Soren was given a guitar that Liam immediately fell in love with.  Whenever he has a moment, he'll pick it up, strum its unmelodious strings, and make up little songs.
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Liam pronounces the word "pumpkin," "popcorn."

Liam's church teacher took this picture of him.  Isn't he such a handsome little prince?  He's officially in PRIMARY now, which totally blows my  mind.  

Modeling Mommy's winter gloves.  

Composing.  

Drawing. 

A tattoo given to him by his brother.

Itsy Bitsy Spider.

Dressed up as a "spooky" Christmas ghost.

2013 Goal

My goal for 2013 is to have more energy.

I have been tired-- very tired-- since I was about twenty.  Blood tests done at the time came back normal, so I went on an anti-depressant.  I have taken Zoloft for the past 8 years, and it definitely helped alleviate a little of the exhaustion and made it possible for me to get off the couch and do the things I needed to do.  But here's the thing.   I want to thrive, not survive.  I want to enjoy life, not drag myself through it.  I do not believe that it's normal to wake up tired and end the day completely drained.  

My goal is to be vivacious, energized, and excited about living.   And I'm willing to take some serious steps to accomplish this.  I have a couple of things that I'm going to try to this end, one at a time, so I can tell what's helping the most:

First, my diet.  

For thirty days I'm going to be really strict about the following:
-No Dairy.
-No Gluten
-No Sugar.
-No Meat.

I'm not fully sold on the idea of "toxins" that need to be flushed out of your system or whatever, but these are all foods that have been found to be common allergens,  have a negative impact on a lot of people's overall physiological functioning, create negative immune responses, and be an overall drain on a persons' general well-being,.

And yes, I'll get enough protein, and yes, there are plenty of foods that I can still eat.  I'll be eating plenty of green smoothies and salads, as well as potatoes, yams, quinoa, coconut oil, olive oil, brown rice, lentils, beans, seeds, nuts, fruits, vegetables, and tofu.  (Some people think that soy products are of the devil, but I love me some tofu, so I'm going for it anyway.)

I feel a little defensive about this because I anticipate a lot of criticism.  Going vegan is kind of like homeschooling.  Despite loads of evidence to support its benefits, it runs against conventional wisdom and therefore garners a lot of general criticism.

Anyway, I know it's going to be torturously difficult throughout the first couple of weeks and, because of this, I'm putting together a survival guide for myself to help me get through the torturous first couple of weeks wherein I anticipate I will be rabidly desperate for some sugary floury cheesy treats.

I am starting this TOMORROW because I want to be more energized YESTERDAY.

Next, supplementation.  

First I'm going to try Dr. Christopher's Fabulous Five natural supplements, as recommended by my friend Shacone, who is my healthy living hero.  It's a bunch of crazy stuff like molasses, kelp, cayenne pepper, and apple cider vinegar, but I'm willing to give it a go if it will help.

After I've established that as a routine, I'm going to try adding a hefty dose of Vitamin D, which my friend Laura swears by.

Finally, Witch Doctors. 

If I'm not feeling fabulously energized after doing these three things, I'm going to go all kinds of kung fu crazy and see an acupuncturist recommended by my friend Lara.

I might even go hog-wild super crazy and see that hand-scanning dude in Rexburg.

And if That Doesn't Work....

I'll do some serious introspection and see if I have some sort of deeply-rooted psychological issues that are draining all my energy.

And if That Doesn't Work....

I'll buck it up and deal with being tired.

I think that will about take up a year.  Wish me so much luck!!!  Here's to a more energetic 2013!

P.S. I know that exercise contributes to energy levels too, but that's not on the list because I'm already fairly good about exercising regularly.

P.P.S. Also, I'm pretty responsible about getting enough sleep.  I'm a bear if I don't get 8-9 hours a night so I make it a priority.  My kiddos like to interrupt that sleep as much as possible, but I do what I can in that area.

Being Okay With Being a Little Broken

If you chance to meet a frown

Do not let it stay

Quickly turn it upside-down

And smile that frown away.

No one likes a frowny face.

Change it for a smile.

Make the world a better place by smiling all the while.

-The Children's Songbook

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Miracles are healing because they supply a lack; they are performed by those who temporarily have more for those who temporarily have less.   

-A Course in Miracles

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A couple of weeks ago, I had a series of bad days that culminated one Tuesday afternoon when I found myself completely unable to function like I needed to.  I was tired and overwhelmed, one of those days when my bed seems to have strengthened its gravitational pull by one thousand, combining with my brain to seduce me into the sweet escape of sleepy oblivion.  My sweet husband found me wrapped up in a sad cocoon in my bed and called my mama, who offered to watch the children for the afternoon.  I roused myself long enough to text my friend Hana and let her know that I wouldn't be over to visit that afternoon like we had planned, that my mom was taking the kiddos and I was going to spend some time alone.  And sweet Hana knew that I needed something.  She responded, "Are you okay?  Do you need someone to talk to?"  And I, who early in life deeply internalized the idea that "no one likes a frowny face," and very rarely let people in on my crap, decided that I would just let it all hang out.  So I texted back and said that I was not okay.  That I was exhausted and sad and angry and overwhelmed and that I would very much like to talk.

And so she came over.  And we talked.  I told her all my frustrations.  I cried.  And it felt fabulous.  Faaaabulous.  My burdens were lifted just in talking about them.  And do you know what? She was totally okay with my frowny face.  In fact, our friendship deepened as a result of that afternoon conversation. She called me the next day and I answered the phone without even being afraid.  This is big for me, who only answers the phone fearlessly for approximately four people.

And do you know what else?

On a whim, she ended up loaning me a book that I needed.  That I really, really needed.

Nobody wants to be friends with a person whose life is perfect.  I mean, it's true that not a lot of people are going to be want to spend large quantities of time with someone who is persistently negative, whiny, and critical, but that doesn't mean that you can't be real.  That you can't say, "Sometimes I hate my life."  Because  everybody hates their life sometimes.  And it's really, really nice to know you're not alone. That someone is there with you, and they see your flaws, and they still like you anyway.

Being okay with yourself means being okay with your broken bits, too.  I suspect that true happiness is  hinges on this idea.  

Why I Don't Play Computer Games

Like every hot-blooded American child, I played Nintendo games.  When we got our first PC in 1992, I spent my fair share of time playing Jones in the Fast Lane, Sleuth, Oregon Trail, and Commander Keen. But as I grew into adolescence, I lost interest.  And for years I hardly thought about computer games at all, except for an occasional late-night Tetris binge.    

And then I got married and my relationship with computer games quickly became antagonistic.  Those of you non-gamers who are married to gamers will know exactly what I'm talking about.  

Anyway, Abe decided recently that I needed to spend some time playing his latest computer game love, Skyrim, so I could see how fun it was.  I've always resisted his attempts to drag me into his games, contending that I have way better ways to spend my spare time, but he looked so cute and eager that I couldn't resist.     

Well.  It was not fun.  It was stressful.  Just navigating the guy around the screen required massive amounts of concentration.  There were arrow keys and letter keys that did stuff and then mouse movement and all those mouse buttons I didn't even know existed.  And the whole time I was worried about bad stuff happening.  What if someone tried to hurt me?  What if I fell off the cliff?  What if I got lost?  What if I did something bad and got in trouble?    

Finally, I got stuck in the basement of some creepy building in a village and begged Abe to let me quit.  The thought of having to expend problem-solving energy towards problems that didn't actually exist was exhausting to me.

And I guess that's the clincher.  I spend enough time in my real life solving problems.  I don't feel the need to invent more to solve.  

Reading Journal: The Grapes of Wrath

Just read this for the first time, which is a little embarrassing for an English major.  Shhh.  Don't tell.  

And it is so good.  So good.  It rocked my world the way The Good Earth rocked my world.

I was telling my mom that it I thought it was beautiful and Abe remarked, "That isn't the word I would use for it!" So I amended with, "well, it's beautifully....earthy."

The Grapes of Wrath is full of insights into the human condition, written with flawless, descriptive, warming language, and peopled with sweet, honest, simple, and wise characters.  

My heart broke for the hopeless circumstances that so many good, hard-working people found themselves in during the Depression, circumstances that no amount of work and effort could mitigate. The book helped provide insight to me for the reasons behind legal regulations regarding workers' rights and minimum wage laws.  It was also a reminder of how easy it is to justify ourselves in allowing others to suffer.
 
Some of my favorite quotes....

The preacher said, "She looks tar'd."
"Women's always tar'd," said Tom.  "That's just the way women is."
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"I figgered about the Holy Sperit and the Jesus road, I figgered, 'Why do we got to hang it on God or Jesus?  Maybe,' I figgered, 'maybe it's all men an' all women we love, maybe that's the Holy Sperit-- the human sperit-- the whole shebang.  Maybe all men got one big soul ever'body's a part of.'  Now I sat there thinkin' it, an' all of a suddent-- I know it.  I knew it so deep down that it was true, and I still know it."  - The Preacher.
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"When you're young, ever'thing that happens is a thing all by itself.  It's a lonely thing.  You're gonna have a baby, Rosasharn, and that's somepin to you lonely and away.  That's gonna hurt you, an' the hurt'll be lonely hurt, an' this here tent is alone i the worl', Roshasharn.  They's a time of change, an when that comes, dyin' is a piece of all dyin', and bearing' is a piece of all bearin', and bearin' and dyin' is two pieces of the same thing.  An' then things ain't so lonely anymore.  An' then they don't hurt so bad."  -Ma
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"If he needs a million acres to make him feel rich, seems to me he needs it 'cause he feels awful poor inside hisself, and if he's poor in hisself, there ain't no million acres gonna make him feel rich, an' maybe he's disappointed that nothin' he can do'll make him feel rich-- not rich like Mis' Wilson was when she give her tent when Grampa died.  I ain't tryin' to preach no sermon, but I never seen nobody that's busy as a prairie dog collectin' stuff that wasn't disappointed."  -The Preacher
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"When I was a little girl I use' ta sing.  Folks roun' about use' ta say I sung as nice as Jenny Lind.  Folks use' ta come an 'listen when I sung.  An'-- when they stood-- an' me a singin', why, me an' them was together more'n you could ever know.  I was thankgful.  There ain't so many folks can feel so full up, so close, an' them folks standing there an' me a-singin'.  An'-- that's why I wanted you to pray.  I wanted to feel that clostness, oncet more.  It's the same thing, singin' an' prayin', jus' the same thing.  I wisht you could a-heerd me sing."  - Mrs. Wilson
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"Sure I got sins.  Every'body got sins.  A sin is somepin you ain't sure about.  Them peopel that's sure about ever'thing an' ain't got no sin-- well, with that kind of aon-of-a-bitch, if I was God I'd kick their ass right outa heaven!  I couldn't stand 'em."  -The Preacher
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"If you think it was a sin-- then it's a sin.  A fella builds his own sins right up from the groun'."  -The Preacher

Writing

When I was in the fourth grade I entered a writing contest and lost.  I came home heartbroken.  My mom sat down with me, hugged me close, and told me that the world's greatest authors had drawers just bursting with rejection letters, that I was merely joining their ranks, that I shouldn't give up.    

Later that year we were asked to draw a picture of what we wanted to be when we were grown up.  I drew a picture of myself, sitting in an attic room at a computer, writing, smiling.  Next to me was a filing cabinet drawer labeled "rejection letters."  When I grew up, I was going to be an author.

But when you really, really, really want something, it's easy to become afraid.  You fear failure.  You fear that the thing you want the most is the thing you won't be able to have.  So you pretend you don't want it.  You say you're too busy.  You say it's not that great anyway.

I have been afraid of writing fiction for many years.  Several years in a row I tried participating in National Novel Writing Month, only to give up within a week.  Sitting down to write was the most uncomfortable thing in the world for me.  My heart would grow tight.  My mind would shut down.  I had nothing.  There was nothing for me to write.  I couldn't write.

And then, just a few months ago, my friend Lara published her own novel.  I read it and was so impressed.  And at the same time, emboldened.  Gosh darn it, I thought.  If Lara, who is like me in so many ways, can write a novel, so can I.   I did some research about how to write a novel and had a massive breakthrough when I discovered an outlining technique that utilizes a spreadsheet.  I love spreadsheets, and knew it was for me.  I spent several weeks outlining a novel in detail.  And then I closed my eyes and plunged in.

I am now writing a novel.  Slowly.  But I'm doing it.  Several days a week I sit down and work on it.   I set a timer for twenty minutes (just like I do when I'm cleaning the house) so I don't get overwhelmed by the prospect of writing interminably.  I read an inspirational quote or two.  I remind myself that it is okay to suck, to write ridiculous and low-quality fiction, but that it is not okay to hide from your dreams.

And then I write.

So far I have 14 single-spaced pages.   I think I might just do it this time.

Administrative Changes

In light of recent excessive whining and tantrums, I (the mother of this household) am instituting the following rules, effective tomorrow, November 23, 2012:

1. If you can do it yourself, do it yourself.

2. When Mommy comes home, she and Daddy get to spend a few minutes relaxing and spending time together.  Kids stay in another room. Do not disturb Mommy and Daddy unless the house is on fire or someone is bleeding or choking or otherwise in imminent danger.   

3. Kids have to do the following each day: brush hair and teeth, pick up room, complete homework, complete one chore.  There will be no having of fun until these items have been completed.

4. TV/Computer time is limited to 1 hour per day.  

5. Mommy is not the entertainment committee.  Kids figure out how to entertain themselves.  If Mommy is doing something-- even if that something is holding very still or reading a book--she doesn’t need to be disturbed.  

6. Whining, badgering, and tantrums are not tolerated.  They will be counted mercilessly.  They can be carried out in the privacy of one’s bedroom.  

7. The cleaning up of all messes, including messy underpants, is the responsibility of the mess' maker.

**Mommy and Daddy’s responsibilities: keep kids safe, teach independence, ensure good hygiene, provide healthy, regular meals, enforce 8 PM bedtime, read to, talk with, cuddle, and love kids.  

**Mommy and Daddy’s responsibilities do not include: providing constant entertainment, being a playmate,  performing slave labor, etc.  

Book Journal

I love Roald Dahl.  I mean, what's not to like about Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (except for horrifying film adaptations)?  Or The BFG?  Or Matilda?  Or The Witches?  His stories are a little dark, a lot hilarious, and all kinds of charming.   And if you've ever wondered where it all came from, you've got to read Boy, a collection of memories from Dahl's own childhood, which reads almost exactly like his books for children.  I chortled for days afterwards.  Good stuff.  

And one can't read Boy without wanting to know what happened when Roald took a job with Shell Oil Company in East Africa and then joined the Royal Air Force.  This man had no shortage of life adventures.  While not as amusing as Boy (a lot of it was, after all, about war), Going Solo is an interesting and perspective-broadening memoir.    

In Which I Tell You How to Vote

Don't worry.  No presidential candidates will be mentioned.  People support presidential candidates with a religious fervor and I harbor no illusions that I might be able to sway anyone's opinion about who to vote for.

But.  I do want to talk about two Idaho voting issues that are near and dear to my heart.

First: for you Shelley/Firth people:  the library bond.  Vote YES!  I have heard a few people say that they think that libraries are outdated and that we shouldn't put any more money into our public library than we already have.  This could not be further from the truth.  Circulation at the North Bingham County Library has been increasing steadily over the past decade and doesn't show signs of stopping.  The NBCL serves our community extremely well, catering to the needs and interests of the people in the region.  They provide many excellent literacy, educational, and community programs for all age groups.  Adding additional space-- at an average tax-payer increase of about $20/year-- will enable them to increase the number of available materials and provide even more services, including tutoring, classes, and learning manipulative for children (not gonna lie, not exactly sure what a "learning manipulative " is-- a fancy word for toy, mayhap?--but it sounds awesome and I think we need them.)  If you care about literacy and life-long learning, THIS is the place to invest.  Click here to learn more.

Now, Props 1, 2, and 3.  Vote NO!  IGNORE the idiotic propaganda about how ULTRA-LIBERAL NATIONAL TEACHER'S UNIONS WANT TO RUIN YOUR CHILD'S LIFE.  That's a bunch of crap.  Props 1, 2, and 3 are simply stripping teachers of their voice, increasing class sizes, decreasing overall teacher salaries, taking away teacher incentives to work with children with special needs or lower socioeconomic backgrounds, creating an even greater focus on "teaching to the test," and taking money out of educators' pockets to fund unnecessary extras like laptops for every high school student.  I don't know any educators who support these propositions, and you shouldn't either.  It is TEACHERS, not buildings or technology or standardized tests, that provide education.  We need to put money into supporting teachers and make sure their rights and voices are honored and upheld.  A vote NO for Props 1, 2, and 3 is a vote YES for teachers-- and a vote YES for teachers is the BEST vote we can give to our children.

Read arguments both for and against Props 1, 2, and 3 by linking from this page.  Then realize that I'm right and vote NO on Props 1, 2, and 3.

Love Journal: Protect and Border and Salute

In his book, Let Your Life Speak, Parker Palmer describes one of his bouts of serious clinical depression.  He was frozen, paralyzed by sadness, completely unable to feel joy or sense beauty.  Many well-meaning friends would visit and try to help, but he was completely unable to connect with them.

He writes,

blessedly, there were several people, family and friends, who had the courage to stand with me in a simple and healing way.  One of them was a man who, having asked my permission to do so, stopped by late every afternoon, sat me down in a chair, knelt in front of me, removed my shoes and socks, and for half an hour simply massaged my feet.  He found the only place in my body where I could still experience bodily feeling—and feel connected with the human race.

He rarely spoke a word,  and when he did, he never gave advice but simply mirrored my condition.  He would say, “I can sense your struggle today,” or, “It feels like you are getting stronger.”  I could not always respond, but his words were deeply helpful: They reassured me that I could still be seen by at least one person, life-giving knowledge in the midst of an experience that makes one feel annihilated and invisible.  It is almost impossible to put into words what my friend's ministry meant to me.  Perhaps it is enough to say that I now understand the Biblical stories of Jesus and his foot washings at new depth.


The poet Rilke says, “Love . . .consists in this, that two solitudes protect and border and salute each other.”   That is the kind of love my friend offered.  He never tried to invade my awful inwardness with false comfort or advice, but simply stood on its boundaries, modeling the respect for me and my journey— and the courage to let it be— that I myself needed if I were to endure.

Early in my college career, I went through a nasty romantic breakup that seemed to me to be the very end of the world.  I look back now and I'm like, "Um, okay?  And your problem was?"  but at the time I thought that I would never know happiness again, ever.  For months I was a complete wreck.  There were shouted phone calls.  There was dramatic crying.  There was loud music.  There was sprawling poetry on butcher paper and acrylic paintings of nude women.  It wasn't a pretty picture.  

My beautiful best friend, Holly, responded to all this perfectly.  She rode around with me in my car in the dark while I shouted along with Alanis Morissette's "You Outta Know" at damaging decibal levels.  She appreciated my frightening art.  She patted my back when I sobbed until I hyperventilated.  She kept a hand on my knee the time that I bawled during the three hour drive from Pocatello to Provo.  She climbed into bed with me at night when I woke up crying.  One night she drew me a hot bath.

Had our roles been reversed, I surely would have gotten sick of all the drama.  I would have become impatient and rolled my eyes and said, "He was not that fabulous.  Seriously.  Get over it.  You deserve so much better."  But Holly was just quietly, patiently present with me in my suffering.  Her quiet vigil was the thing I needed most and I will always be grateful that she was there to protect, border, and salute me during that time.

Sometimes when things are hard, you don't need someone to give you advice.  You don't need someone to say anything at all.  Sometimes you just need someone to sit with you while you struggle through the darkness.  It's so tempting, when others are sad or hurt or angry, to try to offer comfort or well-meaning advice.  But sometimes all they need to know is that you see them, that you love them, and that they're not alone.

Thanks, Holls.

Halloween 2012

The weekend before Halloween, my little niece Sylvie came to visit.  Isn't she gorgeous?

We also went to the U Pick Red Barn Pumpkin Patch and did some pumpkin carving.  

Soren's Jack-o-Lantern.  His was the only one that ever got carved.  (And painted.  And glued.)  

Liam painted his.  

The bat that Soren made for our entryway.

More kid-made decorations on display.  

Now for the awesome part.....

Briar and our co-worker Alex both dressed up as Angry Birds.

 Look at that amazing make-up job.  Yeah, I did that.

Jasmin and I dressed up as Sociopaths.  Scary, eh?

Aren't my little ghost and jaguar just adorable?

My childrens' mother was too lazy to make fancy Halloween food, so for dinner we had "monster faces."  

I gave up and put on a real costume for trick-or-treating, at Soren's behest.  

We trick-or-treated around the block and capped off the evening at Grandma and Grandpa's house with a spooky episode of Spongebob Squarepants.