Savior of the World

For the past four months, every Saturday morning Ellie and I have been at rehearsal.  For the past two weeks, we have rehearsed, polished and fine tuned until we were singing our songs in our sleep.  And this weekend, we performed in a musical called Savior of the World to commemorate the Resurrection of Jesus Christ as is accounted in the New Testament. 

This has been such an amazing thing to be a part of.  I have been in many casts in my life, but this one was so special, and I hope to be able to somehow capture here in words what I have experienced over the past several days. 

As the curtain was ready to open on the first of our three performances, there was a strange and heavy silence over the whole stage.  We had just come from the green room where we had shared in testimony, scripture and song to prepare our hearts for opening night.  The jitters of wanting to do well coupled with the intensity of the opening scenes created a solemn stillness in us.  As the first few scenes unfolded, which depicted events as they might have been as the family and friends of Jesus departed from the tomb and went to their homes grieving the shocking loss of their spiritual leader, we found ourselves weeping both onstage and off.  I worried I would not be able to hold myself together.

Then, as in the scriptures, when to news of the risen Christ was spread, a cheer came to the cast members and an energy filled the stage that was palpable.  But with that cheer and energy there was an amazing reverence.  At one point I stepped into the green room and was amazed.  Two dozen people in costumes sat in silence, some reading from the bible or from the book Jesus the Christ, others just listening to the strains of music that came through the wall.  But it wasn't just the silence and reverence there that was notable, there was a spiritual presence that felt like being in the temple.

By our second performance for the Saturday matinee, the sweet and happy feeling we had been left with from our first show was there from the start.  There was such a feeling of joy as we performed, and it carried us through a long day to the last performance that night.  At one point as the angel choir sang, those of us in the cast stood in the wings singing too, adding our voices to the chorus.  I wished then, that every person in the audience could be up there with us, feeling what we were.  "John", a man named Jacob who I shared a very tender scene on stage with, smiled and reached over and squeezed my hand.  There were many such moments.  "Solome", the sister of Mary, had over these weeks and months become like a sister to me, and she stood near by, a gentle hand on my back.  Often as members of the cast passed through the curtains exiting the stage, they were immediately received with a hug or a gentle touch to let them know how well they were doing.  Sometimes as I stood there in the dark, a whisper of "good job, Mary" would come from close behind me.  Other times the glow of the stage lights would illuminate the face of another cast member as we stood silently in the wings, and as our eyes met we would exchange smiles. 

The shows went as shows do.  There were the expected mistakes, a dropped line or a stammer here and there.  But for a cast of amateurs, it was amazing. More than that, I had the opportunity to imagine what it might have been like to witness events that I have only read about my whole life.  Seeing the relationships that grew over the course of our rehearsals helped me to imagine the personalities and relationships that exsisted between the followers of the Lord.  They were his friends.  They ate with him and laughed with him and loved him as friends and family do. 

As this Easter Season is upon us, I am grateful for the sweet reminder of the gift that has been given us by our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.  He is our friend.  He loves us.  He provided us an example and a path back to our first home.  Just like the members of a cast in a play, we have stepped out onto a stage for the span of this life, and we will be here for a time, but all too soon the curtain will close on what we know here.  We will return to the company of dear ones who have left us, and to a loving Lord who knows us so well.  I imagine when we look back at this life from the context of eternity, this life will seem so short, our pains so brief, the reasons for our struggles and trials so clear.

It will be like a small play on a small stage.

 Just before opening curtain

(Sweet Sharlene- "Solome", Milti-talented Erin -"Mary,
Mother of James" and Amazing Tara -"Mary Magdalene")

 Gathering after the Sabbath

Mary Magdalene at the tomb

Dawn ("Joanna") researched all about our parts for us and helped us to understand the relationships our characters had as sisters-in -law.  She also researched Jewish custom and helped us to have all the correct items to use as our props.  We even had real spices and oils.

 Did you know that angels use aps?



Two of the Marys

 Most of our scenes were together, so Mary

and I enjoyed lots of little jokes about all of our hand holding.

 In the upper room

Some of the Twelve

 Teaching the multitudes

 Little Angel Ellie gets so involved in the action below,

she almost comes down out of heaven to join the scene.

 "Joshua" (Gordy) and "Rebecca" (Emma) made this scene so fun.

In the green room, all smiles dispite the heat of the costumes.

I just want to know what the angels are talking about...

The End

*

Happy Easter!

Busy Bees

We have been a hive

 of activity around here, too busy to write. 

But here is a week in pictures...

Art projects in every corner (including gourds in the tub!)

Planting...

Growing like a weed (and pulling weeds, too)

 Thrilling over the gorgeous weather

and springtime flowers gone wild!



Learning about technology (solving computer problems

 and teaching Jonah the joys of music)

Making birthday cakes

 And watching little ones become bigger ones

 Dress rehearsals...

And finales.

(look for blue, center right, then look down to the left

to see little Ellie in her first play)

*

*

Our big musical called "Savior of the World" about the Resurrection of Jesus Christ, (that we have been practicing for weeks... no YEARS!) will finally be here this weekend.  Maybe after that, I can find two minutes to put together to write!  (You know, if two minutes get together and really like each other, sometimes you get a whole bunch of baby minutes!)

Did you think to pray?

I remember my mama's mellow alto voice floating though the house as she worked in the kitchen.  She sang hymns, sometimes in English, sometimes in the Spanish she loved.  But when I think of her singing, I always hear her voice crooning one song in particular;

"Ere you left your room this morning, did you think to pray?"

We have been struggling around here lately.  The tension, squabbles and anger have been the rule to the exception.  There is seldom a span of more than 15 minutes that isn't punctuated with tattling and tears.  A fight breaks out, and then in our attempts to sort out the he-said-she-said, another fight will ensue "No!  That's not what happened!"  "I did not, you did!"   
Soon my volume goes up to match the rest,
 and inevitably someone somewhere slams a door.
 Sometimes even me.

When I have nothing left in my parenting tool bag, I find myself turning the thing inside out.  What can I do now?  What haven't I tried?  Finally I crumble into a mental heap and hear my heart call out "What should I do, Father?" 
I wonder why prayer tends to be my last, not first, resort. 

And so I unpiled a messy, jumbled corner in my mind, and in the quiet there I prayed. 

And there in the quiet, the question became the answer. 

Prayer.

I sent the children out to the garden to gather large stones.  We washed and painted them, with beautiful colors and even some glitter, each with one word; "Prayer".  The children each put them on their beds, a reminder for each new day to begin and end with a prayer. 
But I know that it is not up to them to turn around the tone of our home.
 Guess whose job that is?

I made a rock, too.  More as an example to the kids than as a reminder, because prayer has been in the front of my mind for the past several days.  Each time I have to talk to certain children about certain things, before I open my mouth to speak, I have taken to saying a quick prayer that the words I choose will come out right.  As I pull up to the school to pick the kids up, I tell God about my plans for a more harmonious afternoon and ask for help in achieving those plans.  And I am praying for each of my little and not-so-little ones to feel a more peaceful spirit here in our home.

"Oh, how praying rests the weary

Prayer can change the night to day,

so when life gets dark and dreary

don't forget to pray."

Even though mom is gone, sometimes I can still hear her voice.
*



Heart

There is something so satisfying about wallpapering two rooms in just two hours.  Today, as the kids drew pictures and sewed little felt animals and drawstring marble bags, I worked on the dollhouse.  We all quietly busied our hands while General Conference, our church's semi-annual broadcast, filled the house with sacred music and spiritual counsel.  We heard gentle reminders of those things we should all be striving for, as we seek to live more Christ-like lives. 

While listening, I was reminded yet again of the role I can play, if I am willing, to bring peace into our home.  A scarce commodity in our house these days.  "Fathers are the head of the family", we were reminded, "but mothers are the heart of it".  As I heard those words, I had a feeling come over me of, "Ooooo, I would love to be the heart!  The heart is the best part!  The heart of a watermelon is the sweetest.  The heart of a human is what keeps us alive.  The heart is where the music plays, where love blooms and where joy resides.  Why have I spent so much time being the busy hands, the running feet, and the aching back, all the while ignoring my first and best role as the heart?!"

I think that lately I have been abandoning my post.

  Every part of my body was designed for what it can do for my children, to comfort, to nurse and to nurture.  Just like my little dollhouse, I can make small changes that make a big difference when you see them collectively. 
Today I will start by trying focus my eyes and tune my heart to see more of the right my children are doing
and less of the wrong. 

"Home is where the heart is" takes on a whole new meaning
when heart means mother.

Spreading Branches

"...wisdom is not a path, it is a tree...

and I can stay in one place and spread out

in all directions, and I can do more learning

shading this brood of mine than if I was all alone."

Spoken by Sarah Prine in These is my Words

I had a dream not long ago that I was in a giant art studio filled with amazing art.  Up on a pedestal one of my college art professors was painting.  He called my name, and then another professor appeared and showed me a book.  Inside the book were prints of paintings done by all my peers from art school.  I was painfully aware that my art was not in the book.  I felt the heaviness of the question that hung in the air, why wasn't my art in the book?

I felt defensive.  I thought, "I have been raising five children", but I didn't dare utter it aloud.  I remembered their "no excuses" mentality.  I wandered away into galleries full of the most beautiful art I have ever seen.  I ached inside, both at the beauty of the art, and at my longing to create, and began to cry. 

I woke crying.

*****

Like the quiet trees outside, my new growth is just beneath the surface.  I can feel the warmth of coming spring making the sap rise, and my mind is bursting with ideas.  But sometimes I get caught up thinking I am on a path of learning and growing.  But I like the idea that wisdom is a tree.  As my branches spread in a million directions, I learn things I never thought I could, and beneath the canopy they create, the little ones that find shade there are blessed.  Trees never leave the spot where they find root, but those roots reach far and create an anchor.  My branches become a place for my children to play and rest and learn.

*****

I told Guy about my dream.  He pointed out something I hadn't seen before.  All of that amazing art that I was so overcome by....?  It was created by my mind in that dream. 

It was my art, after all.

*****

My friend Chantal always says "As women, we are so hard on ourselves."

It is so true.

Misery

I have a crabby boy in the house.  He is cranky and doesn't want to be talked to or touched.  He feels miserable and when I try to help him to feel better, he just gets mad at me.  Apparently, I am somehow the source of his misery.  I do things for him because I know they are the best thing for him in the long run, but at the moment that I do them, he hollers his brains out and tries to get away from me. 

I wish I could just tell him how much I love him, and that just telling him that would make him feel better.  I wish that he could see that mama (and papa) sometimes knows best.  I wish that he could see the situation through my eyes,
knowing what I know.

*****

One of my boys is furious we have enrolled him in an arts and sciences high school for the fall.  We think it is going to be an amazing experience for him.  The campus is small, they have drama, music, pottery, heck... you can even ride a skateboard around on campus during lunch.  There are only a few hundred kids, as compared with 2,500 at the local gang and drug-ridden HS.  There has not been a single fight on campus all year.  His dad works there, too, which will give him a place of refuge if he needs it, and a ride every day. 

*****

One of my other boys has a cold.  Bet you can't guess which is which.



Meat Group

 The weeks blur as they fly by. 

March has marched on through.  Weeks of rain and sour moods have

drained us all and the flu has made a messy visit.   

There has been little of cheer around here, as cabin fever takes over. 

But here is what coaxed a smile out of me this week... 

Tessa: "Is chicken a aminal and people kill them and eat them?"

Me:  "Yes, honey.  They are just like the chickens at auntie Kori's house. 

They are killed and the feathers are taken off, and then they are

brought to the store for people to buy."

Tessa:  "Well, it sure is good!"  (... thinking hard ...) 

"We got meat in us.  If we're gonna die, people could eat us! 

And we will be good too, cuz' we have meat in us!"

Shoyu Chicken

Boneless, skinless chicken thighs

Butter

Soy sauce

Sugar

Fry the chicken in butter (yes, for real)

Mix equal parts sugar and soy sauce and add to the

 simmering chicken, until done.  Serve with rice.

THE List

To Do

Help Adam with food report

Go to rehearsal

Take care of Dad's tax stuff

Cut Guy's hair

Teach art lesson

Post on blog

Order new cloth diapers

Lunch with Ruth and Anna

Exercise with Kathy

Get caught up with laundry

Finish cards for card exchange

Memorize lines for the play

Lay carpet in doll house

Check out books on DIY electrical

Figure out electrical in doll house

Sort clothes for Jonah and Tessa
Shop for Guy's birthday

Play in volleyball game

Glaze pottery

Do visiting teaching

Work on Open Studio sale items

Get caught up with laundry again

Make cannoli for Adam's class project

Clean house for Annmarie's visit

*

*

Maybe I will get a few more things knocked off THE list this weekend. 

 Oh, wait...

Post on blog

How ye be trappin' a Leprechaun

Aye, and sure's ye be livin', there be strange spirits a' roamin' these halls.  Tis' me custom to visit this here family an' work all manner o' mayhem in the wee hours.  The lass Ellie was vexed with me comin' and set her heart to capturin' me.  I trolled the house causin' mischief indeed.  A'fore I t'was done I'd made the milk green, and some o' tha lunches of the wee ones as well.

Well, don'cha know it, but that lassie made a fine trap in hopes o' layin' her English hands upon me fine pot' o gold.  Indeed, twas dandy, all set with a bed for meself, a guitar for me amusement, and treasures to tempt a king.  But don'cha know, them treasures they was fixed with rope an' twern't for tha' takin'!  Indeed, had I tried, the rope was fixed to drop a trap door and hold

this here Leprechaun and me gold as well!

Tho' the treasures were grand, so was the trap. 

So leaves I behind a note, and a promise to return.

"Tho t'was truly temptin' to have them lovely riches me eyes be seein' in this here box, me keen Irish senses say that this here be a trap - so fine there t'would be no escapin' from her.  Ye are a fine trap maker indeed, and ye both are fair.  Ay'n' smart to boot!  So you can keep your treasure!  But I'll surely try again next year, Lassies!  ~ Patty O'Toole"

Erin Go Bragh!

Ireland Forever!

Great Expectations

Today I witnessed

what can only be described as a teeny tiny miracle.

Three clean bowls in the dish rack.

A while back, probably around October when my dishwasher died and I joined the ranks of handwashers, I started getting a real 'tude about crusty cereal bowls being left in the sink.  I politely asked the kids to please rinse their bowls before depositing them so that I wouldn't have to use a chisel

 to scrape the cement-like cereal bits out of them. 

They chose not to. 

 I began saving their bowls for them. 

It was so awesome. 

"Ethan, darling, I saved your bowl for you since you forgot to rinse it out. 

Only, I have already done the dishes, so now you will need to actually wash it." 

I know.  Cool, huh?

So then I get to thinking: I make the kids clean up their other messes, but for some strange reason, they go through a half dozen plates and bowls and easily 4 cups each every day, and they think they are wonderful if they walk the 10 feet to dump them in the sink.  I decided to give them the opportunity to feel that sense of accomplishment that only comes after a job well done -- by washing them, too. 

It has taken a week of saving bowls for kids to wash after school (usually Ellie, never Adam.  Adam got it the first day), but today it happened.  When I came into the kitchen after the kids had moved on through, there they were, gleaming in their Corelleware-splendor.

Three clean bowls.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, they can be taught!

And when your sink isn't full of dirty dishes,

you have room for this chubby little miracle...

And when you have less housework to do, you can get to

all of the pottery that needs glazing...

after you are done nibbling on this delicious little dish.

"Go to sleep, little creep..."

I am often asked the question, "How is Jonah sleeping?" I usually answer, "Pretty well." but a better answer would be, "Pretty well in my arms, or not at all."

.

That's how his naps are, anyway. I have never been the mama who beat up the mailman for rustling the mail too loudly while baby is napping.  I think that sometimes a light sleeper is created by the hiper-vigilance of well meaning parents who defend the sleep space like it was the Hope diamond. So we vacuum, talk on the phone, and play musical instruments while our babies sleep right in the same room.  Mostly it works out great, and our babies sleep soundly while search helicopters circle the neighborhood after several rounds of gunfire.  But Jonah is like Adam was. When Addy boy was younger and I would slip into his room to do my nightly rounds, just the sound of my pants swishing would wake him up, and I don't even wear corduroy.

I hear the sleep gurus out there who have their babies sleeping through the night by six weeks. Yes, you are right, if I let him cry it out, eventually he would fall asleep. Sorry, ladies, but I just ain't that kinda' mama. My kids all sleep in my bed with me until they are about two, and guess what? Contrary to what popular myth would project for my cramped nocturnal future, not a single one of them is still sleeping in my bed.

But somehow Jonah has a radar detector that senses when I am thinking of putting him down so I can visit the little girl's room.  Unassisted, Jonah sleeps for...count 'em... five whopping minutes.  The other day I decided to slip away as he drifted off.  In five minutes he was up, and he stayed up for the next 8 hours.   By the time fatigue finally put him into a coma, we were all fried.

So he sleeps. 

In my arms. 

And I am so OK with that. 

Because he is my last baby. 

This is the last time I get to do all of this, so do it I will, and with quiet gusto.  Amazingly, he saws logs while I nibble his ears, snores while I toodle my fingers through his hair, and even stays in dreamland while I clip his nails and clean out his ears (and other crusty parts).  It's actually nice to have a while every day when I can just love on him, appreciate the miracle that he is, and remember to stop and smell the roses. 

I mean, the toeses. 

Hold a sleeping baby? 

Twist my arm.

*****

"Go to Sleep, Little Creep" (sing to the tune of Lullaby and Goodnight)

Go to sleep, little creep

or I'll punch you in the melon

sleep snugly little ugly

or I'll poke you in the eye

Nighty-night or I'll bite

off the end of your nose

go to sleep, little creep

or I'll snap off your toes.

Dear Julean,

I missed you so much this weekend.  We all got together at Kori's house on Saturday to celebrate Dad's 76th birthday.  He was convinced it was his 75th, but other than that, his mind seemed sharper than ever.  The big boys played together tossing around the football and tackling each other, and it was great to see Ethan get pummeled for once instead of Adam.  As I watched the boys play I imagined Caleb and Noah out there with them.  Tiny little Michael was right out there with all those big boys, stealing passes and flopping up on top of the dog pile of boys, looking like a bird on the backs of elephants.  But he didn't let his size stop him.  There is a jumbo spirit crammed into that 40 pound frame.

We got to meet Eric's wife, Aubry.  She is very sweet and friendly.  She was missing her baby, who she left at home with grandma, so she was loving on Jonah.  It is so fun to see other people enjoy Jonah as much as I do.  He really made the rounds.  I half expected him to be sick after being passed around so much, but so far, so good.

At one point in the day, little Sam came up and said, "Auntie Laine, in school we are learning about the planets and we took a trip to each planet and I sent you a post card from Mars."  I wonder what the postage was on that! 

The kids dug for salamanders half of the afternoon and I imagine that if Zack had been here, he'd have been right out there with all the kids, probably teaching them all about the way the salamanders eat or something.  I had to forbid the boys from trying to bring those slimy looking things home.

I think the thing I missed most was hearing your laugh.  You and Guy can really get going, and I love how you can get him to laugh harder than anyone else can.  Family gatherings aren't the same without you here.

"The Little Girls", as they are called, are growing so big

Boing!

Gringo, every one's favorite horse.  Tessa vanished just before dinner and was found outside loving on Gringo.

I love the rainbow of children

Uncle Chris actually makes Jonah look like a "little" baby...

even though he nearly outweighs Auntie Kori.

I am so glad you are my sister-in-law, but you were my sister long before that.  Now we are eternally linked by blood.  My children and your children share our genetic dust.  The miles somehow seem wider now that there are so many of them between us, but knowing that we will always be family makes the time between visits seem less important.

I miss you, all the same.

Grandpa asks the all important question, "Does he have a butt chin?"  I suppose he wants to make sure he has left his mark on his progeny.

Chill pill

This week has been

 like a string of ugly pearls; one day after another

of crabby kids fighting with each other.  As a kid, when we would act like that my mother would call us "nasty little pills".  This week I have had a whole bottle-full.

.

One kid in particular has made the days really challenging, and by challenging, I mean somebody please suck my eyes out with a vacuum, pull out my brain with a pair of tongs and then stomp on it, because that would be more pleasant than the past three days have been.  (I should open a spa. 

 I would call that the "Vac-Stomp Package").

.

Today when the rigamerole started up again, I was fabulous.  I mean it.  I deserve the "My brains are melting in my head, but on the outside I'm cool as a cucumber" award.  And cucumbers are cooler than fourteen year old boys with swishy girl hair.  I didn't flinch, I simply said, in a calm, quiet voice, "Go to your room."  I repeated it like a Buddhist chant until the offending (and yes, offensive) party got sick of me and stormed off down the hall to test the slamability of his (or her) bedroom door. 

Award time.  Right here.

Later, after many attempts to get a certain girl-child to focus on a simple task, I jokingly told Guy that they all had the attention span of fruitflies.  

"It seems like there should be some kind of pill

 we could give them to help them stay focused."  I laughed.

"They actually have a pill to prevent them from happening at all,

but we chose not to take those."  He smiled.

So we all took a chill pill in the form of our (da-da-dun!!!) First Ever Family Bike Ride.  Thanks to Ellen (Thanks, Ellen!), who gave us some awesome used bikes, and another thanks to a borrowed trailer from Kathy (Thanks, Kathy!), we toodled off to take Ellie to her play date.  And here, the definition of toodle is "to ride very, very slowly, stop a billion times and begin to feel a strange burning feeling in the tops of one's thighs".  Parts of me that have squeezed babies out of them were whimpering (Whose fine idea was it that we should straddle the insole of a toddler's shoe for a seat?  If anyone in the midwest is reading,

 I am in the market for a good used tractor seat). 

Poor little Ellie had never been on a long bike ride before. 

She was ready to poop-out those last few blocks,

and Guy dropped back to encourage her. 

Then above the clackety sound of her training wheels, I heard her little voice call out, "I can...do it!  I can...do it!"  Her voice rose and continued her chant, a word or two for each pump of the pedals, all the way to Kaylee's house.  It was inspiring.

.

.

I'm glad we didn't take those other pills.  I'll keep my little pills. 

 For one more week, at least.

One'a those days

It started to rain last night. 

And last night I got into a kafuffle with Ethan (you're welcome, Steph.  Just wait, I plan on using a few more of your words).  It was 11:30, and he was up trying to gather the Elvis costume together but he couldn't find the sideburns (What? Do you know exactly where your Elvis sideburns are right now?  Unless you are very organized, the location of facial hair of dead rock stars poses a cunundrum.  You're welcome again).  I sent him to look through the Halloween stuff, he left the garage door open, I scolded, he got mad, yada yada yada, he ends in his room playing really mad notes on his trumpet (which is what you do when you don't know a whole mad song).  It had turned into a very unnecessary hulabaloo (I need to start charging for those.  The words, not the hulabalii, which I can assure you is one of two possible pluralizations of hulabaloo). 

I walked into his room later (because 11:30 isn't really late around here) and apologized for my role in the bruhaha.  The trumpet dropped from his lips, the furrow left his brow and an easy smile slid over his face.  It had been hard work to stay mad at me and he seemed to be glad to be done with it.  He apologized for all of his skullduggery, got Elvis and his sideburns packed into a backpack (it was young Elvis, so he still fit) and headed off to bed.

When I woke this morning, all the foofarah from last night clung to me like white dog hairs on a pair of black yoga pants.  The house phone died (did you know that they need to be hung up once in a while?), my cell phone went missing (my message is Adam's voice saying "My mom can't find her phone right now, so please leave a message"), as did my white socks.  Late for volleyball and running around like a skatterbrain in tennis shoes and BLACK socks, I got to the church and no one else showed up.  I came back home feeling a bit snarky. 

An on and on went the day in much the same way.  It rained, kids squabbled, I reprimanded.  Lather, rinse, repeat.

At one point I sent Ethan on a bike ride to burn off some testosterone.  Tessa asked where he was and I said, "I sent him to blow off some steam."  At that very moment, Ellie began blowing her nose in the bathroom like she was in a marching band.

"Yup"  said Tessa, "I here'd him blowed it."

It's still raining.  In fact, forecast calls for mostly rainy days for the next week. 

I know that today was one'a those days. 
Maybe tomorrow will be less of a bungleflop
(yes.  I made that one up).