As fall is a time of reflection...

As fall is a time of reflection...
A time to soak in every detail of warm sunshine,
hearing stillness of a slightly crisp breeze that hints of the oncoming stark, coldness of winter.
I see the greens of the grass as the blades prepare to fade for the season.
Everything comes into focus.
Everything seems a little sharper -
a sense of feeling life a little deeper.

As I walk I have this sudden sense -

I am a walking, breathing, living product
of thousands of years of ancestors,
who cumulatively create me.

My bones are the bones of men and women who walked and worked this same Earth. My lungs are the DNA of lungs that sighed and huffed and puffed before mine.
My heart is a thousand hearts who've loved, laughed, hurt, cried and grieved.
My hands...
My blood...
My hair is like the many heads of hair that have felt warm sunshine.
My skin that grows freckled from the same sun that has shined for millions of years.
I am a combination of very real blood, sweat and tears.

And one day my grandchildren will grow and come to be as I am now; while I join the ranks of the ancestors before me,
and become another grain of sand in the long line of those who proceeded me.

But, like them, I add my own blood, bones, sweat, laughter, tears and experience - that I can only pass on through two things -
my influence, and my DNA.

--Norda Barrowes 10/2/2015

Epiphany

Last night as I lay in bed, I was catching my husband up on an Odan situation that I had reported to him the night before as we were about to fall asleep. Odan was having a hard time feeling motivated to go to school (what kid doesn't now and then?), but his reasoning was pretty sound. His class is a difficult one. There are many kids who "have a hard time" as we call it. And his teacher in an effort to deal with these kids often has the whole class put their heads down after three strikes. Odan was having a hard time understanding why he was being punished when he tries really hard to be good. I get it. Working at the school an hour and half every day and spending the first half hour specifically with the first graders, I'd probably be doing the same thing. However, trying to convince my son he is doing good enough and that his self-worth shouldn't be coming from whether or not he puts his head down with the whole class, is another story.

Thankfully, he talked to his teacher about it like I asked him to, and my reminders to him that some kids aren't taught good behavior skills at home, helped. He came home yesterday feeling more optimistic about school. Even cheerful.

After my report to Kendall about this whole situation, he simply replied to me a thank you. But it wasn't just "thank you for handling that situation", but a sincere thanks for being involved with our children's lives. For being in tune to their needs, their strengths, their weaknesses, and helping them learn how to grow, and deal with the things that come up in their lives. He told me he is thankful that his kids are in such good hands, and how much he values not having to worry, knowing I am here for them. That I know them and pay attention to the little things that all to easily can become big things.

And it dawned on me. I do a lot of work around here.

It isn't in the form of diapers, nursing and nap times anymore. But it's a lot of work. And it's a work I'd never trade for the whole world. Not for the pair of pants I've been eyeing for a couple of months. Or the Spring Break vacation I've had to let go of due to our tight budget.

Sometimes I forget the purpose of what I'm doing. And my husband's sincere thank you helped me remember not only that I am a hard worker, and that my work has value, but that I, myself, wouldn't have it any other way.

Thoughts

A couple of weeks ago I happened upon a program on BYUtv called "Fires of Faith". The kids and I began watching as a man was led up to be burned at the stake sometime in the 1500s I think. Well, because it was BYUtv, I assumed it wouldn't get graphic and decided I would explain what was happening. I try not to shy away from telling my kids exactly what it is they observe or have questions about. I may edit and explain as kid-friendly as I can, needless to say, they didn't even light the bushels of straw on fire, it cut away and the program went on. It went on to talk about how many people were burned for pursuing to publish and distribute The Bible. The word of God that at the time was only allowed for Catholic priests to read.

I began to think about the many people that gave their lives to liberate and educate and provide opportunities for everyone to learn for themselves from these important words. It was a right these people felt so passionate about, they were willing to give their lives. I thought about their courage to change the status quo. I'm sure there were many more who risked their lives, whether or not they had to die for this cause or not.

Fast forward four hundred or so years later, people on the street were asked their thoughts on the Bible, or if they have ever read it. Many felt it was irrelevant, out of touch, not applicable, and many had never read it. I must admit I have not read more than a passage here or there of the Bible. I am not putting anyone down for not doing so. But for some reason, it really hit me that those men (and possible women) who were burned at the stake or otherwise killed to bring these words to light, are now considered 'irrelevant' and their sacrifice deemed 'not applicable'. I felt an almost irreverent feeling for those that are our ancestors, those that helped shape the world to what it has become. Those that paved the way for the freedom we enjoy today.

Furthermore I thought about the things that I want to teach, want desperately for my children to know about me and my experiences, and thought of my children's children's children dismissing me or my experiences as 'out of touch' or 'irrelevant'.

I realized everyone who has ever lived has a certain amount of years on this earth. Some live long, and some have less years to experience life. But for all of time women and men have made and had babies, reared children, dealt with illness, experienced hurt feelings, laughter, love, struggle, worry and many more everyday feelings and interactions. And although our circumstances, possessions, and environment have changed dramatically, I believe we still have a lot more in common with people of the past than we have differences. We as humans have had to learn to deal with one another, interact, tolerate, loathe, and love.

These thoughts have given me a desire to connect with my personal ancestors, to learn about their experiences and wonder what life was like for them individually. I have felt not only connected to those that have come and gone before me, but to those who are here now with me on the earth, and those who have yet to come.

I am amazed at the lines of thought I feel I have been inspired to ponder, and I am so grateful for my freedom to think and to question and to learn. We live in a truly blessed time.

Little Things

Early on in my adult life I learned how to take big life-changing events in stride. What I mean is, it became easy for me to see God's hand in my life whenever major, unplanned events happened. For instance, when my mom passed away in a car accident, although that was one of the most difficult times for me emotionally and spiritually, I was simultaneaously incredibly blessed to feel comfort and peace. Like everything was as it should be. And I somehow knew, this is part of the plan.

Learning to react to life that way helped me to feel calm and steady. I was armed with the knowledge of God, and my faith had been tested to a point that helped me in my everyday life. My faith grew stronger. As time went on, I was able to feel and be happy and hopeful for what my life had in store.

A few short months later I met Kendall. And a few short months after that we were married. I was blessed with such confidence and peace about my life and where I was headed.

Fast forward seven years and three kids later. I still remember those days of feeling complete peace and hope. And I look back and am grateful for the many things I was able to learn and apply. Last week as I was driving down the road, stressed out of my mind over a tax document that had come that day, I had a thought come to me.

His hand is in the little things too. Not just the big things.

I felt peace come over me and the worry wash away.

I had learned to accept and deal with hard things before. Learned to let the Savior carry me and be my rock. Why had I never before thought to let that same process carry out with the little things in my life? Why did I think it was only necessary for me to rely on that peace and faith when major life events happened?

This may sound silly, but I never thought of letting it apply to something so insignificant as a bill. Which is funny because sometimes we'd get a bill and I'd feel as if our whole world was going to crumble...does that just happen to me? I become paralyzed and stressed with worry not being able to see how things are going to work out. But you know what? They ALWAYS work out.

Who benefits when I am paralyzed and stressed? (The adversary)

You know when you hear people talk about certain principles and you think you understand what they are saying? Well, I've known His hand is in the details and the little things. Heck, I think I may have even written about it before. But this particular instance last week is when I REALLY understood. Like the connections of the knowledge and actually applying it made me go, "Oooohhhh! I get it! This is what I need to do to not feel stressed!"

My goal is to remember when little things happen where I would usually react with stress or panic, to not. To instead replace that reaction with this one -  This is part of the plan. He knew this would happen. There is a plan for me and my life and I have faith in His timing. That will be my mantra, with a few deep breaths as well.

I know I will need this reminder again. I am human. I am imperfect. I forget. I live in this world, and this world is not easy. But right now I am grateful to have had this reminder.

The "Winter-Blues" Wall

Oh February.

I hit the "winter-blues" wall this past week. I am aching for sunshine and warmth. I have obvious seasonal depression symptoms. But am I really wishing for the weather to change or for the feeling I have to change?

When I think of warmth and sunshine I think of laughter, smiles and happiness.

When I think of gray skies and cold I think of hiding under my blankets and doing nothing.

I cannot control the weather. Is it possible for me to control the way I feel regardless of what it looks like outside my window?

Can it possibly be that simple?

How?

Thoughts?

Bunk Bed

Our boys were excitedly watching us at the beginning...sorting and assembling their brand new bunk bed. Its beautiful, smooth espresso colored wood boards scattered around the bedroom, and the yummy wood smell filled the air and added to their excitement. Eager to help, they sat patiently and watched us from the doorway, helping find the right boards when asked. But, as the assembling wore on, they lost patience and we put on a movie for them while we worked.

Two and a half hours later I'm thinking Ugh, why did we even buy this thing? It was nearing 11:30pm. Both beds completely put together I asked my husband if we could just leave it as two beds for the time being, but knowing how long the boys had been anticipating the bunk bed, I also knew it wasn't an option.

Twenty long minutes later it was finished. The boys were elated and exhausted. We set some ground rules (one on top at a time, their little sister was not aloud on top without mom or dad in the room, etc.) and tucked them in after saying a goodnight prayer of gratitude for their beloved bunk bed.

A little discouraged it had taken so long, I had been fighting feelings of contempt for the bed for the whole three hours. I knew I was tired, so that was adding to my frustration, but I noticed something. As soon as it was finished, and the boys were tucked in, I sat there and looked at them in their new beds, and a feeling washed over me. I do love this bunk bed. What a blessing to have the extra space, and how nice it makes the room look, and how happy the boys are.

Upon reflecting a bit, I was reminded how so many things in life come at a price. Whenever I have worked hard at something, the reward has been worth the effort. Whether it be physical, emotional, or spiritual, whenever I have really applied myself and worked hard, the reward has always outweighed the sacrifice.

I think my athletic experiences in my childhood and teenage years taught me discipline and work ethic. When I was 12 or 13, I had a coach tell me something that has always stuck with me. He had noticed during a particularly long race that I seemed afraid to push hard, that I was afraid of getting tired. He said, Don't be afraid of getting tired! I turned that into, don't be afraid of hard work, or hard things. I learned on a physical level how to do hard things and push myself, and I had tremendous success when I figured out how to achieve certain goals through that hard work. 

Through my post-high school years, I had experiences that taught me emotional and spiritual hard work. I had to face scary realizations and bad habits and tendencies that I'd had. Going through that helped me to make healthier choices, changed how I was and helped me realize how I wanted to be. I say how and not who because we are who we are. Only when we change how we are do we change who we are.

I know it seems silly that assembling a bunk bed from a box brought up all of these thoughts and reminders. But I am grateful for these reminders because life would be so much easier for me if I didn't have to do hard things and just went through the motions. But I know my life wouldn't be as rich and fulfilling if I hadn't, and don't continue to do the hard things. I do them because I am strong, and because I can. And because it is so worth it.

Michael Jackson

Tonight driving home from the grocery store, I was stuck alone at the one intersection in the universe that hates me. I don't think I have EVER hit a green light there ~ yes I'm talking to you 900 East and 6600 South!

While perusing the radio, I happened to stop upon the Michael Jackson song, "Man in the Mirror". And since the stoplight chose to skip the left-hand turn green arrow which I was waiting for, I sat there and listened to this whole song. I never thought a song by Michael Jackson would evoke such emotion out of me, but I was really feeling the words tonight....

I'm Starting With The Man In
The Mirror
I'm Asking Him To Change
His Ways
And No Message Could Have
Been Any Clearer
If You Wanna Make The World
A Better Place
Take A Look At Yourself And
Then Make A Change

I love that we have the power and freedom to choose who we are, and who we want to become.

During this song I found myself asking, Do I make the changes I need to, to become better? A better mother? Wife? Sister? Friend? Daughter? Aunt? Do I know what those changes need to be? More patient? More kind? More loving? More accepting?

And what would the world be like if everyone were brave enough to look in the mirror at themselves? See themselves honestly.

And then 'make that change'?