my PEN PAL

A few years ago, I was processing orders that customer has mailed in.  At the time, I was working for my church.  We handled orders for people needing materials for weekly church services, but also sold other items like food storage and tools used for family history.

I came across an order from Sharon.  She requested that we send her a variety of family history supplies, like pedigree charts.  Included with her order was a small amount of money.  Once upon a time, these items were free a charge, so the fact that Sharon had not sent a lot of money with her order was no surprise.  I knew I wouldn't be able to complete her order, but decided to enter it into the computer so I had an idea of how much the order would cost.  Once all the items were entered, I learned that the total was over $100.

I decided to give Sharon a call so I could explain the situation.  She was very understanding and asked if I could send her a catalog that showed pricing information.  I explained that we no longer provided catalogs, but that all pricing could be found on our website.  I had worked with enough people from the pre-pre-pre-pre-Internet generation to know that a website would be useless to her.

So, I told her I would send her as much of her order as I could using the money she had sent.  I also told her I would send her a separate letter listing all the items she originally wanted along with the price and corresponding item number, hoping this would help her with any future orders.

As I was putting the letter together, a very distinct thought came to my mind that I should write using my very best handwriting.  I have what some might say unique handwriting, and sometimes it's not the easiest to read.  Depending on who I'm writing, I'll often modify the letters so they're more legible.  I affectionately refer to it as my Grandparent Handwriting.

Anyway, I sent the letter off to Sharon and hoped the information I gave her would be of some use.

A few weeks later, I came into work and found a letter addressed to me.  Actually, it was addressed to "Emily ?" because the person writing did not have my last name.  The letter was from Sharon.  And it was LONG.  She told me she had received my letter and absolutely loved my handwriting.  She wanted to know all about me, where I was from, whether I was right or left handed, and what type of pen I used.  She included a pre-addressed, pre-stamped envelope for me to send my reply, but also said that she would not be offended if I chose not to write her back.

I took her letter home and showed it to my husband.  I told him I wanted to write her back, but knew that would lead to another letter from her and so on.  I knew receiving personal mail at work was frowned upon, so my husband and I decided we felt comfortable giving Sharon our address so we could continue to send letters to each other.

Over the last two years, we have remained pen pals.  She is so thoughtful and puts so much detail into her letters to me.  I know a lot about her personal life, children, etc.  It really has been a pleasure getting to know her, and even though I don't provide quite as much detail about myself, she is always quick to tell me how much my letters mean to her.

I don't think it is a coincidence that Sharon and I crossed paths.  I also don't think the thought for me to use my best handwriting was a fleeting, random thought.  I think it was intentional, and I'm glad I listened to it.

Who knows?  Maybe we'll meet in person one day.  For now, though, I'm enjoying the letters.

DRESS wars

In January, Isabelle turned 8 years old.

Being eight is kind of a big deal because it means you can be baptized a member of our church.  Isabelle decided she wanted to be baptized, so we started to plan for the special day.

Traditionally, girls will wear pretty white dresses after they have been baptized.  It's not required (I wore a black dress after my baptism), but Isabelle expressed an interest in getting one, so I began the search for a dress she might like.

After a lot of online browsing, I went to an actual store to see some dresses in person.  I absolutely fell in love with the dress pictured above, top row, second from the right.  I loved the pleats and the simple broach on the waist. 

Not long after, I brought Isabelle to the store so she could try on the dress I knew she'd love.

With wide eyes, she glanced at all the dresses and focused in on one that I did not like at all.  I tried to redirect her attention to my favorite dress, but it didn't work.  Eventually, we took both into a dressing room and it was obvious which dress we'd end up buying.

Her face glowed and her smile was so genuine as she stared at herself in the mirror, wearing the dress she picked out.

The glow faded and the smile disappeared when she tried on anything else.

When we left the store, her smile had returned as we carried her favorite dress out to the car.  I, on the other hand, was disappointed and then felt guilty for letting it bother me.

On the day of her baptism, Isabelle looked beautiful.  She was wearing the dress that she loved so much, and I could tell she felt special.  

And that is what I ultimately wanted for her.

So, mission accomplished...just accomplished differently than I expected.

my {VIOLIN} + me

Every once in awhile, I'll catch myself being very narrow minded.  Typically, it involves me and my way of thinking and not necessarily directed at anyone...which is probably a good thing.

Anyway, a few weeks ago, Dustin and I were asked to play a musical number in church.  We, of course, said yes and began practicing for the big day.  We tossed a few ideas around as to what song we should play, but eventually we chose one we had performed numerous times before.

{side note}

I can't play like I used to - you know, during the years that I was taking lessons and practicing at least three hours a day - so, I always worry about how I'll actually sound in front of an audience.  This was easily one of my most embarrassing performances ever.  I mean that quite literally.  I messed up at the end of the song, which consisted of two half notes. Like, two slow half notes.  I somehow messed up the first note, did not recover at all and then messed up the last note.  I was in shock, honestly, and looked at Dustin and we both started laughing at each other because there was nothing left to do but just laugh.  Seriously, who messes up like that?

{ok, back to my point}

Later that week, I walked passed my empty living room and saw my violin case resting on the floor.  The girls were playing contently in their room, so I decided to get it out.  It dawned on me that I didn't have to be preparing for a lesson or a recital or a church musical number to play.

For some reason, I had convinced myself there had to be a purpose to play.  And, suddenly, my tunnel vision faded, and I picked up my instrument and just played.  I found a book of music that I first learned when I was 7 or 8, and I just played through it.  It was so much fun.  Memories of learning these pieces for the first time flooded my mind.  I was impressed with how familiar they all seemed.  One day, I'll dive into the more advanced pieces and see if I still have any of that kind of talent left in me. 

But, for now, I'm glad I've come to realize that there's plenty to gain from just playing for fun.  For example, gaining skills to avoid bombing future church musical numbers.

#myfingersfailedme

If you know how to play an instrument, play it!

my TWO THOUGHTS

Last Saturday, the dread of the upcoming day was sinking in.  Sunday.  The hardest day of the week was fast approaching, and I had a very important decision to make.  I could deal with it, or I could run away from it.

I've blogged a lot about how difficult it has been for me to take my children to church.  It doesn't seem to matter how much I prepare, I always manage to forget something that apparently my children can't live without and can't possibly be well-behaved unless it is in their possession.

Sunday morning came and I was wrestling with myself as I tried to come up with a legitimate excuse as to why we could stay home from church.  Dustin for sure had to go because of his church responsibilities, but certainly there was a reason I could stay home.

As a pondered what to do, two thoughts kept entering my mind.  The first was, "just deal with it."  The second was, "trust me."

I made the decision to go to church and "just deal" with whatever happened.  I also, in some strange way, knew this week would prove to be different.

I arrived to church, armed with every snack and coloring instrument known to man.  I found a bench close to the organ so the girls could watch Dustin play during sacrament meeting.  As the meeting began, I watched as my children sat quietly and contently.  They colored and requested snacks, and I managed to keep them contained for a good 30 minutes.  A big change from the last few months!

Eventually, though, we did make our way to the hallway, but the day was already shaping up to be better than the many weeks prior.  While in the hallway, my girls wanted to run around and be free, but I remained firm with them and they stayed by my side almost the entire time.

After sacrament meeting, Isabelle complained about going to primary.  I snapped my fingers and told her to go. And she went.  I'm sure I seemed like a a mean mom to the people around me, but I didn't care.  I was going to get through the entire three hours of church if it killed me!

My next stop was taking LL to nursery.  Up until this point, she had refused to go and screamed and cried until I eventually gave up and took her home.  This week, I did a few things that I hoped would help her overcome her fear.  First, as I was getting her ready in the morning, I added a few drops of lavender to her lotion and rubbed it all over her body.  I also added the same oil to her favorite blanket.  At this point, I was willing to do ANYTHING to see some progress.

When we arrived at the nursery room, she got upset and began to cry.  But then she noticed some toys, so I put her down and she began to play.  I quietly stepped out of the room.  I found a chair to sit in and listened.  Sure enough, she began to cry.  I knew the nursery leaders would bring her to me if it got too bad, so I remained in my chair and listened.  After ten minutes, the crying stopped.  And it never started back up again.

Eventually, I went to Relief Society for the first time in awhile.  It was lovely to be at church, sitting by my friend and knowing every member of my family was where he/she needed to be.

As I left church, I reflected upon the thoughts I had had earlier that day:  "just deal with it" and "trust me."  I really believe those were inspired messages.  On the one hand, I believe it was time for me to "just deal" with the weekly struggles of church with kids.  There are worse things in life that I could be dealing with, and since I know going to church is the right thing to do, I may as well go and make the best of it.

After spending the week thinking about my second thought, "trust me," I came to the realization that I don't think I actually had true faith that Heavenly Father would answer my prayers.  Each week I would plead with Him to help me understand how to help my children behave in church, and each
week I felt as if He never heard my prayer.

But, obviously, I know He did.  He just didn't answer it the way I wanted Him too.  Or, maybe I wasn't giving Him enough time to answer.  Regardless, I was given a firm reminder that simply knowing my prayers CAN be answered does not equal having faith that they WILL be answered.

Of course, this isn't the first time I've been humbled by God when it comes to this situation.  {If I haven't told that story, I will soon!}

But, hopefully, I've learned my lesson.  And the lesson I took away from this special Sunday was this:
No day will ever go exactly the way I want.

There really is a difference between belief and faith.

 And, if it's hard doing the right thing, you do it anyway and you just deal with it.

CUSTOM-MADE spirituality

I've blogged a lot about the struggles I face taking my children to church.  There was the post about why we skipped church {and loved it} and the follow-up post about why I even go to church to begin with.  Even though I know I am not alone with my struggles with taking children to church, I usually feel alone each week as I find myself, yet again, dealing with an uncooperative child.

Church used to be a time where I could go to feel uplifted and renewed, ready to face a new week with a stronger conviction to do what is right.

Church isn't that way for me anymore.  And I miss it!  But, I realize this situation is only temporary and things will get better eventually; however, until that blessed time arrives, I made the decision to find ways to feel the way I used to during church outside of church.

One of the ways in which I've incorporated spirituality into my daily life is by listening to general conference talks in my car.  I have found great satisfaction, peace and comfort in doing this.  It is amazing how the spirit can be felt at almost any time and any place.

LDS Conference Center

Here are a few of the talks I've listened to:

President Gordon B. Hinckley's address titled To the Women of the Church

President Dieter F. Uchtdorf's address titled Happiness, Your Heritage 

Sister Julie B. Beck's address titled Fulfilling the Purpose of Relief Society

and all the talks given at this month's General Women's Meeting

So, if you find yourself missing Sunday as being a day of rest and spiritual edification, I would invite you to think outside the box and find ways in which you can reap the benefits of feeling the spirit no matter what day it is.

This has made a world of difference for me.  I feel happier, more energized and a stronger desire to be the best person I can be.

{n}: NYC

I love New York.  Love it.  I've only been there once, but in those few days I knew it was a place I could easily call home.  I love the city.  I love that so many people walk and take public transportation.  I love that things are just crazy in Times Square, but completely quiet just a few blocks north.  I just love it!

Because of all this, I hope to one day live in New York for at least 6 months.  I'd love to be in the city, but would settle for living elsewhere so long as access to the city was very convenient. 

Source

This most likely could only be achieved by making it work - uprooting ourselves, finding work and just moving there instead of waiting for the opportunity to present itself.  Or, perhaps I can accomplish it by going on a service mission with my husband for the LDS church.  

This may very well be an extremely unrealistic goal, but I have to have at least one thing like this on my list, right?  

VANITY vs. PUNCTUALITY

On Sunday, I had to attend a meeting at church before my actual worship services began.  It was crazy, crazy windy as I arrived at the church.  My hair, skirt, everything was blowing everywhere as I approached the door to the building.

Suddenly, a very powerful gust of wind slammed against the roof right above me.  This gust of wind caused a large amount of water from the roof to come splashing down to the ground.  But, before it reached the ground it landed directly on top of me.

I was completely soaked.  I stood at the door a little in shock, wondering if I should risk being late by running home and fixing my hair and changing clothes.

I decided to suck it up and stay at the church and to be on time to my meeting.  I made a stop at the restroom to wipe off my face and to do what I could to make myself a bit more presentable.  But, all in all, I looked like a sorry mess.

As I walked along the hallways of the church, my hair looking like it does when I first step out of the shower, I told myself I needed to think about my priorities a bit when it came to my appearance.  Perhaps I need to be a tad more vain and less concerned with punctuality.

I'm pretty sure I'll stick with punctuality, but in the meantime I have a fun story to tell and have added yet another reason as to why I totally and utterly hate and loathe the wind.

{day ELEVEN} SUNDAY dinner

Every so often, we'll go to my parents' house for Sunday dinner.  There's something special about eating dinner with your parents, especially when your mom makes her delish lasagna.  Try as I might, I can never replicate its awesomeness.

This Sunday was extra difficult for us because Isabelle misbehaved a lot during church.  We've been dealing with this sort of thing basically since she was born, and I think Dustin and I were just done with it all.

Right after church, we went to my parents' house and enjoyed a great dinner and conversation.  It was just the thing I needed after such a stressful day.

One of these days church will be an enjoyable experience for me again.  Until then, I,always have Sunday dinner to help lighten my mood.

why I GO TO CHURCH

One of the posts I decided to showcase on my SITS day was about the time we skipped church.  The post generated a lot of comments, more than I was anticipating; however, one comment that basically said, "What's the point?" really caught my attention.  I decided I wanted to spend a little bit of time talking about why I go to church.

I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  Or, I'm a Mormon.  Or, I'm LDS.  I was born and raised LDS.  After I left home and started living life on my own, I chose to remain LDS.  Being a Mormon is so much more than just attending church on Sundays.  It's an entire lifestyle.  No, I'm not one of 15 wives married to the same man, but I am a  Christian who firmly believes in the teachings of the LDS faith.

It is because of this that I choose to deal with the ups and downs of taking a toddler to church.  I have been blessed beyond measure for doing that which I know to be right, even when it seems to have no purpose.  Before I was a mother, I would attend church and feel so uplifted and motivated to be a better person.  After my daughter was born {and before she was old enough to attend the nursery}, I rarely, if ever, had those same feelings.  I was going to church strictly out of obedience to God, having faith I would be blessed for it later.

Some Sundays are great.  Others not so great.  Either way, I always feel like I did the right thing when I go to church, regardless of what I got out of it.  At the very least, I know by consistently going to church, I'm teaching my daughter what I deem important in life.  And I want my daughter to know that I don't just talk about what I believe, but that I put into action what I believe.

So, to the person that asked, "What's the point?"  My simple answer is, "Because it is the point."  I can't imagine how my life would be if I didn't believe in a Heavenly Father that knows and loves me.  I can't imagine how my life would be if I didn't feel like I mattered.  Because of church, I know I matter.  I know who I am.  I know where I came from.  I know where I'm going.  I know I am here for a reason.

And that, my friends, is why I go to church.

my DAY so FAR...

It's only 3:00p right now, but I already feel like today has been very successful.  

It all started when I visited with three other girls in my neighborhood.  We all got together and chatted while drinking hot chocolate while the kids played.  We discussed everything from politics to movies, and I had such a good time.  I don't know these girls very well, but I got the impression today that they could become good friends of mine.

My daughter, who is usually glued to my side, did a good job of playing with the other kids.  She still wanted me within her reach, but it was so nice to watch her socialize and be around other kids.  I've noticed that she gets along better with boys than girls, which I find interesting.

On our way home, we saw another neighbor of ours, an older woman, getting into her car.  I said hello to her, and my daughter made sure to introduce herself to her.  It was pretty cute.

When we got home, we ran a few errands and then continued enjoying the spring-ish weather by playing at the playground by our house.  We live in an HOA community, so the playground is literally steps from our front door.  As my daughter played, I read my book and loved the feeling of the warm sun on my arms and face.

For some reason, today was just a day that I needed.  A day a little bit out of the norm.  A day that was spent being social.  A day that was spent in the sunshine.

How did you spend your day today?

why we SKIPPED CHURCH {and loved it}

The last two weeks have been pretty busy for Dustin at work.  Even though both were only 4-day weeks, we're pretty sure he worked 50+ hours each week.  He also worked when he got home and received quite a few late night phone calls from employees that needed help.

That didn't leave much time for us as a family to be together. 

On Saturday, I had the weird thought that we shouldn't go to church on Sunday.  Instead, we should just spend the day together.  I thought it was kind of weird to feel so good about skipping church, but I really did.

I thought, if we didn't go to church we would miss so many things... 

We would miss the usual tantrum of getting our daughter out of her PJs and into a dress. 

 We would miss the short, but always frustrating, walk to the church because the little one refuses to hold our hands.  

We would miss not sitting in the chapel during sacrament meeting and finding our usual spot in the foyer. 

We would miss trying to keep our full of energy sweet pea quiet and from running around the building during what always promises to be the longest 70 minutes of my week.  

We would miss the usual fight going to nursery, and (because if there is an opportunity to be difficult, why not be?) the usual fight leaving nursery.  

And, last, but not least, we'd miss the fun walk home because, again, our lovely bundle of joy won't hold our hands and insists on walking every and anywhere but the sidewalk.

After weighing my options and thinking about all the things we'd miss by not going to church, what to do ended up being a pretty painless dilemma.

We totally and utterly and shamelessly skipped church.

And it was probably the best Sabbath day I've had in a long time.

my ROOTS...

As this year comes to a close, and we welcome 2012, I feel inclined to make some changes to my blog.  I'm working on organizing it and focuses my posts on the topics I love most:  relationships, parenting, every day observations and pictures.  In all honesty, my blog won't change too much, but I feel the more consistent it is, the more "theme-ish" it is, the better it will be.

I've also spent some time reflecting on why I began this blog to begin with.  Examining my roots, if you will.  I was inspired by this video, which is where I got my blog description, "The desire to create is one of the deepest yearnings of the human soul."  The message from this video, which is based on an address specifically written for women, is that we all have an inherit need to create.  I have felt that need before, and this blog has helped me feel more fulfilled, more creative.

I absolutely love this video and I hope you will take the time to watch it.  You have less than 2 minutes to spare, right?

I hope I can continue to invite readers to my blog and that you can learn from my experiences and that I can learn from yours.  Let's be creative together!

Monday means "What the..."

Nearly three years ago, my daughter was born.  I was so excited to have a little girl.  Both my husband and I had wanted a girl, so when she was born, healthy and perfect, we were thrilled.

A few weeks after her birth, I was going to take her to church for the first time.  But, of course, she needed to be dressed for the occasion.  My husband and I set off to find a cute dress and something for her hair.

We found a dress with relatively no problem, although I was surprised at a lot of stores lack of inventory when it came to dresses for newborns.  Everything was too big, by a lot!

Next, came the task of finding a bow.  I thought this was going to be a breeze.  After all, everywhere I turned I seemed to always see a mother and her daughter with a huge-a bow in her hair.  We're talking, the bow the size of the kid's entire face.

I searched and searched and searched for a freakin' bow but couldn't find anything I liked, or that was big enough.  Where were these mom's finding all the gi-normous bows?  

I felt like such a failure when my daughter made her spiritual debut wearing a size appropriate bow.

When she should've been wearing something like this.

One day at church, I asked a mom that was your quintessential "mom with the daughters that always have huge bows in their hair" about where she got her bows.  She proceeded to tell me she MADE them.  

"What the..."?!

This was not what I wanted to hear.  This was suppose to be easy.  I was suppose to go to a store, buy a huge bow for my daughter and be done with it.  Not make the bow.  That requires craftiness and I'm just not crafty.  Put me in front of a computer and I'll take care of anything, but put me in front of a sewing machine or anything like that I'm completely lost.

Needless to say, my daughter still doesn't have any cute hair bows, but I'm determined to change that.  If you know of any good stores, local or online, that sell awesome, yet reasonably priced hair bows please let me know.

MONDAY means "What the..."

In an attempt to update my blog more often, I am going to start doing a weekly theme post.  Out of all the themes I could choice from, leave it to me to choose to post about something that bugs me.  The point is not to be a complete Debbie Downer.  The point is to just vent for the sake of venting.

I'm calling my weekly posts "What the..."  because I say that phrase basically daily and it just sums up the point of all this fun-ness so perfectly.

So, here we go.

But first let me start with a little bit of background so we're all on the same page.

As stated on my side bar, I'm a Mormon.  Or, I'm a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  Or, I'm LDS.  Like other Christians, I go to church every Sunday; however, my Sundays are a bit different than other Christian churches I've been to in that I go for three hours.  Yes, three hours.  Within those hours are three different meetings, the last of which is called Relief Society.  Relief Society is an organization just for women.  On Sunday, in Relief Society, we have lessons on a variety of different topics.  We also sing hymns.   And, we also have a chorister to lead during the hymns.   My calling (my job in the church) is to be the chorister.

As far as church callings go, this one is a cinch, especially when it is widely known by all members of the LDS faith that NO ONE, seriously, NO ONE, watches the chorister.  Their heads are usually glued to the hymn books.

I'm not 100% comfortable leading music, but I have a musical background, so the process makes sense to me.  Plus, no one will be looking at me, right?

Well, actually, there is one person that should be watching me.  That is the pianist.  After all, I'm the one leading the song; therefore, she should be watching me for the tempo, right?

Well, not so much.  And here comes the "What the..." portion of my post.

I learned the hard way that the pianist doesn't watch me, but everyone else does.  So, instead of leading the music, I'm essentially following the pianist trying to make sense of her less than steady tempo.  Instead of waving my arm in a seamless, perfect stride, it's going all over the place in less than a desirable way.

All the while everyone who is NOT suppose to be watching me is watching me.

Yesterday, after church, two elderly women came up to me and told me I was getting so much better at leading  - that I was finding that "down beat" almost all the time.

I know with all my heart that they didn't mean absolutely any harm and that all they wanted to do was compliment me on my apparent progress of (unbeknown to them) "following the piano."  It took all my strength not to correct them, to tell them I knew exactly what I was doing and if the pianist would follow me I would be on the "down beat" every single time.

But, I didn't.  I wished them a happy day and then vented the crap out of my husband about my adventures in piano following.

This is SOO not how it's suppose to be.

WHAT THE...!