A Re-Dedication

"What man is there that hath built (or rented) a new house (or duplex), and hath not dedicated it?" (Deuteronomy 20:5)

I've been living on my own now for (gulp) 9 years.

But, with the exception of a handful of nights (most spent in the cottage in Holladay with the wind blowing against the skylights in that dark, woodsy, back yard), I have felt safe and watched over.

Last night was one of those "safe & watched over" nights.

I woke up this morning at such peace.
Peace in knowing I had made the right decision to sell.
Peace in knowing I had made the right decision to move here.
Peace in knowing I was sleeping in a place that the Lord was watching over.

In the Mormon faith, we have a practice of dedicating buildings and other dwelling places to God. It's not a new practice. It is found all throughout scripture (Old Testament, especially).
We dedicate chapels.
We dedicate temples.
We dedicate graves after the casket is taken from the funeral to the cemetery. An ordained man of the priesthood, reverently dedicates the ground, asking that it be protected from the elements and from vandals, until the time of the resurrection. I've always loved that part of a funeral service.

And, we dedicate homes.

As a young girl, I remember kneeling in a circle with my family when we moved to Kentucky. My father offered a prayer to our Father in Heaven and dedicated our home on Maple Avenue. He dedicated it as a place where the Holy Spirit would dwell; a place of refuge for all of us; a place of peace. After his prayer, we each offered a prayer of Thanksgiving for the home we had and for our little family.

We did the same thing in St. Charles, in the home my parents are still living in. I wasn't quite as grateful there (being a junior in high school and getting uprooted from your friends will do that to you), but I still remember that Sunday. I really do.

And the religious tradition has continued in my life to this day in all of the places I have lived by myself.

I've usually asked my grandfather (also ordained to the Priesthood) to come over and, after cooking him a yummy dinner, asked him to offer a prayer of dedication on my little place. He did that in two apartments and in my first home in Riverton. Those are treasured memories for me.

My parents were here during this move process (and that is another post on another day) and Friday night was their last night with me and Saturday would be my first day on my own again. Dad & I were alone for a bit and I asked him if he would be willing to dedicate my new little duplex. It hadn't dawned on me until that moment that he had never been around to do the others.

The night got away from us and before I knew it, Mom and Dad were in the guest room having their nightly prayer (as a young girl, I sat outside their room many nights waiting to hear the loud "smack" of a kiss that always signaled prayer was over and it was safe to go in). I heard my dad pray for me and pray for this decision and pray for my little place. It had a calming effect on me. Because he was so tired, I decided that his prayer was more than enough to count for a formal dedication and I wasn't going to bother him with a reminder.

I heard the smooch.
And then some whispers.

My dad and mom came out. Dad had remembered and asked if now was an okay time to dedicate my new home.
He stood and offered a prayer.
I sat and offered thanks in my heart...and a few tears.

I believe in a God who watches over all of us.
I believe He loves all of His children.
I believe we ALL have access to Him all the time.
But, I also believe that the power to act in His name is found through those ordained to His Holy Priesthood.
And the power that comes from the Priesthood creates a literal shield between us and all of the darkness this universe can muster.
That belief does not make me naive.
That belief gives ME strength.
And courage.
And comfort.
And peace.

The peace I felt this morning when I awoke comes from a loving Father in Heaven who knows that I am not always fond of this "on my own" thing. He saw me last Monday night curled in a ball by the side of my mother crying for what seemed like hours, when all I could say was, "I'm so tired of doing this alone."

And somehow, in His wisdom and mercy and grace, I am not alone.
My new little place in Sugarhouse has been dedicated to Him.
And knowing that...feeling that...rededicates my heart to Him.
Again.

"...the place where thou art at this time"

Change is hard and exciting all at the same time.
Is that possible?

On one hand, I am sad to leave a place (and people) that I love.
On the other hand, I am curious about what I might find in this new place.

I didn't move far.
Charming Sugarhouse is only 20.06 miles (thank you, MapQuest) from down-home Riverton.
But, I know me. I travel and I get busy and I am not the best keeper-in-toucher. And so a move is a move. In a few weeks Riverton will get on with its life and I'll get on with mine. And things will be different. (but my Riverton blogger friends are NOT off the hook! Things can't be different between us...you hear me?!?)

I've been in a bit of a funk today. There are many reasons for that, not the least of which is the nightmare of fixing the damaged walls at my old place thanks to some really ridiculously careless movers.

But, that is all okay now.
And so am I.

You see, I've had many corners in my life.
(We all have, of course.)
And a couple of years ago at a particularly important corner that I was not ready to go around, I found myself at the temple.

I opened the scriptures and I found this:
"Blessed art thou for what thou hast done; for thou hast inquired of me, and behold, as often as thou hast inquired thou has received instruction of my Spirit. If it had not been so, thou wouldst not have come to the place where thou art at this time." (Doctrine & Covenants 6:14)

In that moment, I knew the Lord wanted me to know that He knew where I was...and that I was in the place He intended...because I asked Him where to go in the first place. He told me to go to the temple. And there I was.

I have loved that scripture ever since.
And I shared it with one of my dearest friends a little more than a year ago when SHE was wondering if she was where she was supposed to be.

And then today, she shared it back with me.
(Thanks, sweet friend!)
And so I'm okay now.

I don't do so many things right...but the one thing I have FINALLY learned to do is to let Him lead me. Sometimes, I am led unwillingly and more often than not, I'm led later than He intended because of my slow response, but always, when I inquire, I receive instructions, and He leads me to "the place where thou art at this time".

I'm where I'm supposed to be.
I know I kind of said I knew that already, but today I KNOW it.
And I know that I know that I know it.
That feels good.

Change, even when it's right, is hard...
...but exciting all at the same time.

(pictures are coming, Dave, I promise!)

Giddy like a school girl

I have proof I predicted this a week ago.

God bless Sarah Palin. And McCain FINALLY being smart.

I can't even stand how excited I am.
After a week of really enticing, socialist speeches, THIS IS THE TICKET I've been waiting for!

It almost makes up for the insanity of this week.

AH, I love love love this time of year.
Elections, BYU Football, and pencil skirts with boots.
Life does NOT get any better.

The best way to get somewhere...

...is to think you're going somewhere else.

A little more than a year ago, I really actually thought I maybe might have met the guy I could sort of kind of possibly perhaps spend the rest of my life with. It had been a long time since I had even entertained the thought...a long time since my heart thought it could go "there" again.

Going "there" changed me.
Forever.

I found myself wanting to be better in a dozen different ways. I wanted to do whatever it took to be prepared for this different life I almost could see myself living. I started to turn into a bit more of the girl I've always wanted to be.

I needed to think I thought I knew where I was headed to get where the Lord needed me to be.

He does that to me a lot.

At the end of June, I had this intense thought that I needed to pay off my student loans. I'll be honest. At like 2% interest and $84 a month payments, I've always thought Jesus would come before I ever needed to really take care of that. But the thought was strong and I knew I needed to take action.

The conversation with the Lord went something like this:
"Really? I need to pay off these silly student loans?"
"Uh huh."
"Why? Is there a husband waiting who won't take me AND my student loans?"
(Silence.)
"But the only way I can do that would be to sell my house and use my equity."
"Yep."
"What? You want me to sell my house?"
"That's right."
"But, I love my house. I love being here."
"I know."
"Where would I live? Downtown?"
"That would work."

The thought of turning into Kathleen Kelly from "You've Got Mail" (I so love that movie) got the ball rolling.

The realtor said homes spend an average of 90 days on the market these days. Plus it's a townhome...and a middle unit...and Riverton (not the hottest market right now). I would need to be patient and might need to lower my price more than I want to go.

I said this:
"Well, I won't sell it for less than 'x' and I have to sell it and move out by Labor Day weekend because after that, I'm on the road basically every weekend until Thanksgiving...no time to move." (I kind of maybe told the Lord that too.)

I think he tried hard not to laugh in my face.
(the realtor, not the Lord...well, at least not that I saw...)

It went on the market July 1.
By, August 15 I figured this was like so many other things in my life...a nice thought...but not gonna happen. There was no way my house could sell and close in two weeks.

But, the Lord called my bluff.

August 16th I got TWO offers.
August 18th I counteroffered them both, one of them quite ridiculously.
August 18th, 30 minutes later, the most ridiculous of the offers was accepted.
And I was to move out by the 27th.
OF AUGUST.

It's been a whirlwind week...trying to sort it all out and determine where I'm going to live. Turns out I'll be living in a really great duplex (I'm renting for a bit while the market stabilizes) in a charming area of Sugarhouse (a suburb of SLC). And it feels really right (she says, hoping that this doesn't all go south, leaving her to feel a little silly about the declaration of things feeling right.). In fact, the way I found the place is further evidence that when we turn our lives over to Him, He ALWAYS takes care of us. ALWAYS.

Sugarhouse.
Who knew?

I would have likely not started this process or done it so aggressively were it not for the enticement of living downtown amidst all the Obama signs (love the controversy) and within a 20-minute walk from work. Something about that felt fun and cosmopolitan and chic and just really cool. Almost a fair trade for what I was giving up.

But, the truth is I'm not really a downtown kind of girl.
And the Lord wanted me in Sugarhouse.
He knew I needed to think I was headed somewhere else to get me where He needed me to be.

He does that to me a lot.

I've cried a lot this week at the amazing friends and girls (who are also my friends) I'm leaving behind.
But, here's to a life...just around the corner.

A brief break from the chaos that is my life...

It's miracles and blessings amidst chaos and stress and a few tears.
And I shall share it all soon.

But, first, I just can't delay any longer "the brother" post.
I love and adore my little brother.

Sure he's 30.
And he's married.
And he has a house.
And a job.
And 5 kids (under the age of 8).
But, he's still my "little" brother.
Always has been. Always will be.
And it was great to just have some sibling time (and bless his amazing wife who actually let him go for a week and didn't pitch a fit. He SO owes you, Karen! btw, check out the cutest family pics ever.)

Right from the airport pick up, I knew it would be great.And aside from the fact that he LICKED (yes, LICKED) my BlackBerry and ticked me off right before we even got to the house that first night, it was a good dose of fun.

He claims he came to hike Timp with some high school buddies. But, he's not kidding anyone. It was all about Mormon Bridge and Antelope Island.
The flies at the Great Salt Lake are unreal.All those black specks? Those are flies! UNREAL. (And a little frisky, if I do say so myself...tried to post the video. Can someone teach me how?)

But, the water out there was so much prettier and cleaner than I thought it would be.And not nearly as gross (once you got past the flies). I loved walking out in the stillness of it all(it's shallow for a really really long time) and just being with one of my dearest friends...really truly.
Love you, little brother.
Thanks for loving me right back.

My husband would be so proud

Last week I had a business lunch with a friend of mine of the male variety. I told him I needed to know his wife was okay with it. She approved.

My husband was okay with it too. He's great like that.

But, I sure wish he had been more involved in my life today.

Selling a house is a lot like dating.
It only takes one "buyer", if you will. Doesn't matter how long you're on the market...it just takes one.

You wait and wait and wait for the perfect offer.
It doesn't exist...so you take the very best offer and try to make it the perfect offer for you.

I got TWO offers this weekend. TWO.
(offers on the house...not offers for marriage...)
They were both painfully low; one almost insulting (I shant make any "dating" parallels there).

And so, there I sat this morning at the office...a girl who has some goals, trying to figure out what the smartest thing is to do...while juggling my job and life and trying to save the world.

I really thought through my options. And I found myself wishing there was a name to put on the second signature line. I wondered what the second name would do. At the risk of being totally cheesy, I really do know he's out there...just hasn't discovered me yet...and I think he's smart...and I know he's good...and I think he's probably really great at stuff like this.

WWMYHD? That's the bracelet Chrislyn thought I should make today.
(don't you think I'd sell a grundle?)

I really wondered what my guy would do. I came up with my counter-offers (both of them) that were frankly pretty aggressive (I think he'd be aggressive like that). Who knows what the right thing to do is? (My hubby would...I'm sure of that). And as I was scanning them over to my realtor (with my "single signature"...not nearly as bad as the mortgage papers that say...and I quote..."Laurel Christensen, a SINGLE WOMAN" all over them), I said to my associate at work, "Where is my husband and why isn't he doing this?" He should have been negotiating and signing while I was home making dinner (yes, I realize that is VERY 1950's June Clever...sue me).

There are some key times when I really am not fond of this "going it alone thing".
Getting the 10 bags of 40lb salt for my water softener.
Trying to change the light bulb on my landing.
Spending an hour working at unlocking my bathroom door.
Putting air in my tires (still can't do it).
Occassional walks through the park.
Coming home wanting to share something really happy about my day.
A phone call that says, "was your flight okay?"
New Years Eve.
Sometimes, although my life is pretty darn great, it can be hard to do things alone.
(no sympathy needed).
Today was one of those "sometimes".

But, I just got a call and it looks like one of the offers was just accepted (and thus ends the further parallel with dating/marriage...grin). Frankly, I can't really mentally handle that today. In SO many ways, I don't want to deal with leaving my first home...and my dear little area with people that I love...but if it's the Lord's will, it will work and it will be right.

AND if the aggressive offer is accepted, well, look at me!
My husband would be so proud.

(P.S. SO need to blog about my brother and show our ridiculously fun pics...that's coming...after I get on my treadmill)

He comes tomorrow...

and I CAN'T WAIT!It's kind of how I felt 30 years ago!

There will be silly songs and late night Monopoly games and yummy food. Who knew I'd grow to like him SO much!

More to come...
(with pictures and everything.)

Happy Birthday Eve, "Toots"

My mom is going to come home tonight to an empty house.
She's going to go to sleep alone.
And wake up on her birthday tomorrow by herself.
(i.e. she gets to pretend she is me...grin...)

Poopsie is in the hospital and while we really think all will be well, it's still always unsettling. My mom's a pretty tough woman. I don't think I realized how tough until these last few years when she has stood by my dad through some scary times with his health.

I adore my mom (a.k.a. "Larrie", as in "Larry"...true story).
And tomorrow, August 11th, she'll turn 64.
Good for you, Mom.

Just a few "I love you because..."

1.) You have neurosis. A few years ago, my brother and sisters and I each put names to just some of her neurosis. My mom has to (and I mean HAS TO) have the dishwasher loaded a certain way. It's to the point that we either load it, close it, start it, just to give her a melt down or we just don't even bother to help. She's actually happier when she just cleans the kitchen herself.
She also has to schedule everything. EVERYTHING. Our family reunions have an hour by hour schedule.
Her refrigerator? Yeah, it has 2 lists on the outside...one with contents listed alphabetically so you can find which shelf it's on...one listed by shelf with the contents. I'm not making this up, people. THAT is my mother in a nut (and I don't use that word loosely) shell.

2.) You taught me the importance of having a house of order. I will NEVER EVER EVER be as organized and clean as my mom. Nor will I get as much enjoyment out of it as she does. She alphabetizes books and videos/dvds. She labels things. She cleans and I mean cleans. She's been known to fly to Utah JUST to clean and organize my house. I love her for that. And right now, she would be SO proud of how clean I am keeping my house (granted it's for sale and the closets are not to be opened...but still!). I'll be quite the homemaker because of her.

3.) You taught me how to teach. My mom is a great teacher and any ability I have to prepare and present lessons is because of her. I remember watching her prepare lessons at a very young age. I remember her handouts and her nicely typed notes and her "noah & the ark" food storage drawings. Granted, I use 1 3x5 notecard and I have a handout MAYBE once a year, but the foundation is hers.

4.) Caspers. Enough said.

5.) You gave me fashionable hairdos. I could say more, but it is her birthday.

6.) You don't judge me. Ever. I've had very honest conversations with my mom. I've let her see the parts of my heart and my mind that I don't talk about. She's seen my complete lack of faith. She's seen my worldly tendencies. She knows where I fall short. And yet, every time there is love and help and faith. You saved me last March, Mom. THANK YOU.

7.) You are strong. You keep it together longer than I could. And I know you're tired and I know you're scared and I know you sometimes don't think you can do it anymore. But, you can...and we are all so grateful for the way you act strong. But, also want you to know it's okay when you need to fall apart. We're here for you.

Happy Birthday, sweet mom.
Hope you enjoy your day.
Get a hostess cherry pie on us!

The Spirit: The Great De-activator?

I know what you're thinking...
"um, but isn't it the Spirit that activates people? Makes them feel something and acts as the impetus for great change?"

Yes, the Spirit can and the Spirit does.
And sometimes that change can be a lack of action.

I was FUMING yesterday when I got a call from my realtor. While showing my house and standing on my porch with the would-be-buyer, that darn cat darted into my house again (don't freak out Dad...it was just a few minutes and it went straight to the basement and he got him out).

I didn't even hesitate. I called Animal Services to get it removed. I came home from work and got some of my neighbors to sign my petition for its immediate dismissal. I purchased a bbgun so I'd be more prepared the next time (kidding, people...kidding...). I just haven't been that incensed in a long time.

I spent the morning doing stuff (like doing a 5K and having the most amazing breakfast at Caffe Niche and seeing Kara's new amazing downtown condo and trying not to be green w/ envy). When I came home, the neighbor's garage door was up and I just had this feeling I needed to go talk to her...calmly.

"But I don't want to. Come on. Seriously. That cat spent FOUR DAYS dying in my house and she has made NO attempt to make it right."

"Go calmly talk to her."

"But I'm ticked off and I want that cat to be gone. I'm walking into my house now and sticking with my original plan to rid the world of that beast."

"Stop. Go back outside and go next door and talk to her."

You might as well have put a nametag on me and asked me to go tracting again. I got kind of nervous...not sure what I'd say or how I'd approach it...a little worried about her reaction.

I rang the doorbell. Arms crossed. Ready for the confrontation.

"Unfold your arms and smile."

"Are you kidding me?!? Sheesh. I came over here. Now I have to unfold my arms and look warm and inviting too?!?"

The door opened.
Deep breath.

And I hear myself say, "I don't want to be a jerk but we have a little problem..."
And then I start having this totally calm conversation.

Turns out, it was the right thing to do.
(Shocker! The Spirit helped me do the right thing!)
She really needed a kind neighbor today.

There will be no cat trap set.
Animal services will not be called Monday.
The petition will not be turned in.

Sometimes we just need to calmly talk to people about things that, really in the big picture, aren't nearly as important as the people.

I'm no saint. Not at all. I can be a real jerk, in fact.

But, my dad is in the hospital (we feel he'll be okay) and one of my favorite co-workers just found out this week she has breast cancer (she might not be okay) and a dear friend is dealing with deep deep heartache (you'll be okay, my friend!). And really, in the grand scheme of things, some things are important. And some things are not.

I think the Spirit, in addition to giving protection and confirming truth, can be the great perspectivator (totally just made that word up). He can help diffuse an argument that doesn't need to happen. He can help soften hearts that need to be more open. And he can help deactivate situations that need to be seen differently.

Who knew that cat would be the means for me to learn a little something?

The Spirit gets the credit for that.
The kitty can thank Him later.

Slow learners

I haven't been very political on this blog (my unkind comments about Scott McClellan notwithstanding), which isn't being very true to myself because truth is, I have a passion for politics...world events...C-SPAN.

I've struggled getting excited about the Olympics this year.
And now I think I more clearly understand why.

Did anyone else catch the Opening Ceremonies of the Olympics tonight? I have it on right now, whilst doing things around the house (and trying to get some more miles in). I quickly found myself sucked in right from the get go. I was at first impressed by the magnitude of the 15,000 cast production. And then in awe...in awe-ful awe.

In 1936, Adolf Hitler hosted the world for the Olympics held in Berlin.
They say it was one of the most brilliant acts of propaganda.
For, little did the world know what lie ahead.
Little did they know who they had just let host their celebration.

Did we learn nothing?

I'm disturbed that we are having such a celebration in a country that has been and CONTINUES to be the means for so many crimes against humanity.

It's hard for me to see the President of the United States sit calmly in the stadium while thousands (and perhaps hundreds of thousands) sit in "re-education camps" just miles away. He's the leader of the free world, watching a show in a land where people are not.

I don't think Ronald Reagan or Margaret Thatcher or Pope John Paul or even JFK would be sitting there...acting like it's all okay.

It's not okay.
And it just doesn't feel right to me.

Matt Lauer and Bob Costas talk as if we are witnessing nothing more than a well choreographed production.

But the precision of 2000+ young men drumming (unbelievable to see) and thousands more cast doing karate moves in perfect circles is disturbing. The discipline is impressive. But, it's a reflection of their culture and government.
Does no one see that?

This is a communist regime. A country ruled by few over the many.
There are no freedoms here.
There are no liberties.

I am tempted to be touched by the beauty and pagentry of it all.
The sweet children are a nice touch.
But, let's not forget what we are witnessing.

Much apparent beauty can be created when everything is in perfect harmony.
Communism creates that perfection by force.
That was someone else's idea of executing a plan, if i remember.

I hear Matt Lauer talk about how there is no seen direction for this cast of thousands. "They seem to know this cold," he says.

Yes, they seem to know this cold.
It's all just too cold.
(What if those people wish for something more? A different life? They have no choice. They have no options. Why are we acting like this is normal? Like it's all okay?)

I've been sensitive lately to how willingly we have assisted a communist power to become a viable economic and political force (a force for power while their people have none). We did that. I've done that. Our insatiable appetite for cheap products and "stuff" has given them money to buy us.
They own us.
We are in debt to them.
It bother me.
It scares me.

And now, we've come to their party.

But there are millions...MILLIONS of people in that country not partying. They are working for pennies a day...living in extreme poverty...with nothing that is their own...allowed to only have one child...coerced to follow one path.

The PEOPLE of China deserve this.
Their government, however, does not.

We saw what happened after 1936.
What will happen after this?

We have to stay on our guard...and not be such slow learners.

(Is it bad that in the midst of my political passion I also can't help but think the Netherland male athletes are totally dreamy? I'm a horrible person.)

This chiquita has some work to do

So, back in May, the "100 mile summer" seemed like SUCH a good idea. And I thought that if I committed publically, the shame of NOT doing it, if nothing else, would motivate me to do it.

Apparently I'm not motivated by shame.

So, here it is...August 5th...and I've got, oh, I don't know, something like FIFTY SEVEN miles left.
Yeah, something like that.

That's something like the equivalent of NINETEEN 5K runs.
Yeah, something like that.
(It was twenty before tonight...)

But, I'm kind of curious to see what can happen to a girl who does nineteen 5Ks in, oh, I don't know, four weeks.

I have some work to do.
Should be fun.

(Speaking of work to do. I was reading the Southwest magazine on my Southwest flight this weekend and read that...and I quote..."the average woman will kiss SEVENTY NINE"...yes, you read that right...seventy nine "men before she gets married." And, well, since I can count the number of men I've kissed on two hands...I don't NEED two hands, mind you, but I can count them on two hands...well, let's just say, this chiquita has some work to do. But...should be fun.)

Unprayed prayers

I was asked to guest blog on Segullah today.

Thought some of you might enjoy the read so I'm linking it here.

Moments

"To the attentive eye, each moment of the year has its own beauty, and in the same field, it beholds, every hour, a picture which was never seen before, and which shall never be seen again." - Ralph Waldo Emerson


I've been experiencing "moments" lately. Those sections of time where you know you are participating in something that was orchestrated JUST for you. And the beauty of recognizing a moment when it happens, is in the realization that what you are currently experiencing will never...NEVER...happen again...not quite like that.

Moments come to:

- Moms who are all alone with their baby when their little one finally smiles for the first time, responding to their selfless and tireless work.

- Dads who stand back after letting go of the back of the bike seat, and watch a child venture out on their own because Dad showed that child HOW.

- missionaries who spent their whole 18 months hoping they'd be able to sit with Rhonda in the temple the night before their release.

- faithful Sunbeam teachers who work as hard to prepare the lesson for sweet little 3 yr olds who won't remember it as they would for Gospel Doctrine student who might sing its praises...and suddenly see one of the little beams eyes light as they understand that Heavenly Father really does love them.

- girls who, even with a little bit of fear, lean across the car to kiss on the cheek a great guy who just put everything in perspective.

I believe in a God who finds time to put together perfect life moments. And I believe that when we need them most but expect them the least, He gives them to us.(Thursday was definitely a moment that lasted a whole evening.)

Last night as I sat with my parents looking through their memory books and teasing my dad about his poor grades (a "D" in SHOP, people. My dad got a "D" in shop...not that that comes as a surprise to ANY of us who grew up w/o a handyman around the house, but still...)and his even poorer marks in citizenship ("Brent would do well to listen more and horseplay less.") and reading the eloquent letters my mom wrote even at the young age of 13 and later the letter an engaged Larrie wrote to a soon-to-be-husband Brent, I had one of those moments...a realization that I am where I'm supposed to be...in the family I very likely begged to be a part of.

I am not at all where I thought I'd be at the age of 36...not in any YW lesson when we talked about our future lives, did I write this as my dream. But, I treasure the life I've been given. And the time for some extra moments...reminders I have a perfect Father in Heaven who gives me exactly what I need.
Again and again and again.

And I am amazed that He is so keenly aware of all of my moments...and He is quite committed to making sure I have plenty of perfect ones.

Sometimes He just gives them to us.

But sometimes we sense moments as something we are being given the chance to do. The "moment" doesn't happen until we fufill our part in it.
It might be an "I'm sorry" or an
"I love you" or a
"Thank you" or an
"I know..."

I've missed some big ones in my life.
I missed one today.

And just like that great scene on the ferry in My Best Friend's Wedding (passing under the bridge, remember?), that moment "which was never seen before and which shall never be seen again" will pass us by if we don't take advantage of it.

I want to be more aware of the moments in my life.
I want to enjoy more deeply when I realize I'm having one.
I want to participate more courageously when I see a potential one placed before me.

Because moments are all around us.
Sometimes just waiting for the attentive eye.
And one thing's for sure...
Every moment will never happen quite the same way again.

That's what makes it a moment.

Seventeen

The cougars are starting the season at #17 (according to the USA Today Coaches Poll). They are the highest ranked non-BCS conference team.

Nice work, boys.

And while I have mixed feelings about pre-season polls (mostly "mixed" when BYU is slighted), it gets me kind of giddy for the fall (a few days in St. Louis humidity will do that to a girl)...fresh pencils...cute boots...cute boots with cute pencil skirts (gotta love my train of thought)...oh, yes, and football (lest you think my priorities aren't quite right). BYU FOOTBALL, to be specific.

GO COUGARS!
(I would say "I heart them" but my brother has convinced me that "I heart x" is overused...and here I thought I invented the phrase! Speaking of which, check out this new blog. Pretty funny...until you see yourself in it...and while you're checking out blogs, you have GOT to look at Dave's kids reciting the first 4 paragraphs of the Family Proclamation. I don't care what he says. I heart it!...grin.)

We are all here...

We are all here.
Father, Mother, Sisters, Brother;
All who hold each other dear.
Each chair is filled; we are all at home.
Tonight let no cold stranger come,
For it is not often thus around
The old familiar hearth we're found.
Bless than the meeting and the spot.
For once, be every care forgot.
Let gentle peace assert its power.
And love and kindness rule the hour.
We are all, all, here.

That's an old family poem in Christensen history. And my family started reciting it at every Family Home Evening so very long ago. We say it anytime we are together now. My mom has "We are all here" vinyl lettered in the family room. Those are 4 treasured words to me.

My dad (a.k.a. "talldad") officially retired on Thursday. And for the first time since 1988, the original 6 were together again.

David & I flew in to St. Louis, Heather & Holly picked us up at the airport and we drove straight to my Mom & Dad's house to surprise our parents. David was supposed to be home in Virginia, sick with pneumonia. I was supposed to be on a flight headed to London. But, we were all right where we were really supposed to be.
It took my Dad a while to register who was here and how and why.
Lots of tears were shed.
It felt good to be home.

The grandkids made cards for Dad.and we spent the afternoon just being together.(my dad thinks the "self portrait" shots are ridiculous. He actually had the giggles.)

Then, that night...
We spent the evening...just the 6 of us...
Good food.
Lots of Mormon Bridge (w/ Rook cards, of course!).
Laughing at memories. And pictures. And stories.
Finally vindicated that I CAN keep a secret.
I love it when "we are all here"...
Even if it was just for 24 hours.

I would have so loved for the entire clan to join in the festivities, but I gotta say, as the "single chick" in this family, it felt good to be back with the original six (though my "in-law" siblings KNOW I love them).

There's a reason we're put in families.
There's a reason I love mine.
There's a reason I want to have my own some day.
There's a reason I feel so safe here.

There's just something SO right about those 4 treasured words.
We are all here.
We are.
And we will be forever.