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Archive for May, 2014

Early this year we had the FHE, the kind my mind says they all should be. I didn’t exactly plan it, it just sort of fell together. I believe sometime I blogged about ice cream. If I can’t find it I will write it tomorrow. 

Anyways my current goal for scripture time as a family is the habit, the routine, it just being what we do. It’s entertaining at times when Kaede reads in voices, gives things a dramatic flare, or breaks into corresponding Primary songs. We lost some momentum during 2nd Nephi but we made it — including discussions on why Isiah is important to read even though it’s hard to understand sometimes. Charlet noticed the beautiful imagery on her own.  I am grateful for the knowledge that stories lie ahead.  
Family scripture time is hard though, almost always and the blessings linked to it aren’t as obvious and straightforward as some. Rounding everyone up during the chaos of the evening and getting minds focused on scriptures instead of bike riding, hummingbirds at the feeder, whether the turtles have been fed and if I charted that last pain assessment or not is challenging and sometimes comical. It’s a priority for me though even when I have to remind myself that it’s important even when I have no glorious a-ha moments of gospel truths that like I do during personal study.  Mostly this post is to remind me of that priority.  If I write it down it’s more solid, more concrete. 
This quote says nothing about it being easy to gather everyone or that blessings come immediately. It also doesn’t discuss anything about only immediate families. Grandma and Grandpa were reading ‘with’ us, on their own time at their own pace 50 miles north. 

“I promise you that daily family prayer and scripture study will build within the walls of your home a security and bonding that will enrich your lives and prepare your families to meet the challenges of today and the eternities to come” (L. Tom Perry, in Conference Report, Apr. 1993, 113; or Ensign, May 1993, 92).
In that ice cream FHE we also discussed that statements like those from one of the  Apostles isn’t just random words thrown together in a statement but that it’s a binding promise that The Lord won’t break if we do our part. 
This is another of my favorite quotes on family scripture study. 
When individual members and families immerse themselves in the scriptures regularly and consistently, … other areas of activity will automatically come. Testimonies will increase. Commitment will be strengthened. Families will be fortified. Personal revelation will flow” (Ezra Taft Benson, “The Power of the Word,” Ensign,May 1986, 81).

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I have Dad’s eyes. Not his beautiful hazel irises but his tear ducts that can occasionally be tight as steel but usually resembles some kind of slow watering system. I never realized growing up that men aren’t “suppose” to cry, the men I love the most have excellent tear ducts maintained by frequent flushing.

It’s been a great few weeks, and an amazing weekend full of peace, admiration, gratitude, realization and pride in a job well done. It’s been amazing and exhausting. I’m beat and not done yet either.  
I worked today, the exact kind of day that is the reason I became a nurse. I didn’t walk out feeling like I was wearing a superman cape or had significantly changed the course of well, anything, but I found joy in today. In seeing a patients face light up when his wife walked into the room (adding that to ‘the list’) and a twinkle come back into his eyes. I didn’t do anything spectacular but I was happy to see improvement today and be there for those moments and see family be supportive, loving, and kind. The kind of perfectly normal work day that makes me get all fluffy eyed. 
Driving home my mind ran to a list of different sorts. Things I still needed to do tonight, so I ran to the store and bought the wrong sized sheets, took a break from have to’s so I could water the flowers and fill the bird feeders. I walked to the north flower bed and noticed something. 
North Side where the rose thicket still annoys me
I just stood there and cried.  Someone who I can stick a name to came by and mowed down the stupid wild roses that won’t die, the weeds, the foxtails, the everything all the way to the back fence. Mowing was on a list, one that wasn’t going to be prioritized until next week but in quiet unsung acts of service this ward is a perfect example if what a ward family is and why I can’t picture being anywhere else. Those mowed down weeds all whispered “you are loved, and you matter”
Thank you, so very very much. I can’t even begin to say how much you mean to me and have since we first moved here. 

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My days have been starting between 6-7. Start off with a load of laundry or dishes, get kids off and going, come home and work on that days project. Take “breaks” periodically by switching to doing something with my flower bed because who doesn’t like to weed during their break?  Realize it’s 2 pm or later and I still haven’t eaten breakfast. Eat lunch while walking around putting things back in their place. Back to project of the day before muscles get too sore. Dinner? Late of course then back to the project. 10 pm realize that scriptures haven’t been read yet and no one seems to care about bedtime. Bedtime routine begins, and finally at 11:53 pm I climb into bed to check messages and slow down my thinking and ignore my screaming muscles and the still very long list of only the most important things.

I’m tired of hearing about others’ long days of working on projects for 10 hours a day expecting sympathy and help. Tired of things not being done — definitely headed in the right direction but not there yet. Tired of hauling furniture by myself, laughing at “team lift” warnings, being told “no, you can’t do that” and having to pay for massages. My long days won’t end at least until the outside of the house is painted — you know, likely this fall. 
Good night, I hope for a content six hours but excited I get a nap tomorrow because I work night shift. 
Because flowers make me smile, from my front bed. 
Mexican Primrose

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I worked both Saturday and Sunday nights a few weeks ago without a good nap Saturday which leads to missing church 99% of the time. I always try to make up for it through a talk or perhaps topical study. Yesterday as I was doing dishes and some reflective thinking my mind wandered to prayer, largely in part from a conversation with a friend.

As I was thinking about my very hardest Hard Things I’ve struggled through often feeling disappointed that if my prayers had been answered then I wouldn’t have needed to experience the trial following my prayers and pleading. Today I realized that the Hard Things have been the answers to my faithful prayers.  I am trying to think of an example that is shareable and everything coming to mind is too close to my heart for me to throw around the online world but I keep thinking of the story “Is Your Hut on Fire”

A man was shipwrecked on a deserted island by himself.  He began praying to be rescued and began gathering food and building a shelter.  After a few days he has a hut built and a spear.  He goes in search of food and while he is gone he notices smoke from the area of his camp.  When he gets close enough he sees his hut is on fire and becomes angry and frustrated.  He had done everything in his power to survive and now this???  Why wasn’t his prayer answered?  The next morning he wakes to the sound of a ship that rescued him.  He asked the ship’s captain how he knew anyone was on the island and the captain replied “we saw your smoke signal”

My hut has been on fire, and in the midst of the fire all I could see were flames and felt discouraged, weak, and down but the Hard Things, my fires, have all been the answer to my most sincere prayers.

~Heather

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One week

I can’t believe how quickly one week passes and it’s all I have left with so much to do. This past week was productive, even my lazy Saturday, and my load seems much lighter. Once again a truck/trailer and muscles are needed. I think I’m going to put truck on the list.

I did get the bed situation figured out, still keeping an eye open for one more, but we are mostly good. Even scored an awesome new couch that is a perfect ugly. The couches, that’s where I need help. Both couches need to get out of the front room and new ugly couch and piano moved in. Blue couch needs to be down here and then the other couch, both love seats need to go to the dump. See?  Muscles and a truck/trailer. 
With work I only have Wednesday, Thursday morning and Friday afternoon evening. My goal is to be done Friday in time to relax and maybe catch a movie? We’ll see how that actually goes. 

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I mentioned the other day that I’ve been happy lately and I’ve wanted to expand on that idea. So often the world thinks that happy comes from external forces. Lack of trials, Hard Things missing in your life, good things happening, a beautiful home, well behaved and talented children. Those things may be fun and exciting and have a Christmas morning type of Happy (like Pharrell Williams Happy) that’s not what I’m talking about.

This happy is internal and present even in the midst of Hard Things and absence of wonderful things. It’s who I am, who I’ve fought so hard to find because I knew she was in there somewhere yelling and screaming to be found. I’ve heard her voice when I can look at the chaos in my life and realize that it’s okay, when I look in the mirror and am able to laugh at myself and broken tailbone grateful I went skating still I could see a reflection, or reading a book when my life is hidden behind the words I could feel her close.  She’s been nearby but just out of reach for too long.
On a particularly hard day I remembered back to high school and Brother Harr asking me if I ever didn’t smile because he hadn’t seen it. That’s the part of me that’s is back. My resting face smile has returned. Just like meeting an old friend I know the date and time she found me. I feel more like myself than I have in years. Hard Things are still all around and I don’t know how I’m going to do everything I’m suppose to much less everything I want to but I have a smile on my face, peace in my heart and faith that everything is going to be okay. 
To those who stood by me and drug me through my mucky days I am forever thankful. The muck would have swallowed me up if you hadn’t been there. Thank you. 
Just because flowers make me happy
~Heather ❤️

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