Newsflash

In an effort to get us all over the awkward moment between my mother and I, I thought I'd update you on some of the people that have, at one time or another, taken up residence on the farm. (See above photo.)

UNO is probably, maybe, finally going to get to enjoy a culminating moment that he has worked for these last eight years. I am sure I don't have a clue what I am talking about and will get it all wrong, but, I think a robot he's working on/building/tweaking is going to make its debut into outer space. This robot is meant to fix space stations so that we don't have to risk Astronauts lives to do the same job. Whatever this is all about it is totally awesome! My brother really is a rocket scientist. How lucky am I that I can brag about that?

Dos SOLD HIS BOOK!!!! He's hoping up for pre-Christmas release date. The publisher is Touchstone, an imprint of Simon and Schuster.  I am lacking other news since his wife delivered a bee-u-ti-ful chunky baby girl two weeks ago. They are smitten and in love, and I can't wait to hold her, and sniff her and run my nose along her sweet cheeks.

Tres's wife is planning a big Royal Wedding Gala for this Friday morning at 5 FREAKING a.m. And guess who gets to go? (I'm a good sis-in-law, hence the use of the word 'gets.') There will be lots of food, little girls, poofy dresses, tiaras, and squealing. I'm sure fun will be had by all. I may not notice though, because I may be curled up in the corner under a blanket with wedding cake drooling out of my mouth.

Husband's littlest brother (who yes, lived on the farm for a few months) is tying the knot. IN THE TEMPLE!!! Yes, those words deserved to be capitalized. I've had to beat this boy over the head multiple times. I will be as proud as his Mama when he walks out of those doors with his cute little wife on his arm. FYI--he's not thankful enough, but if it weren't for me, he wouldn't even know his fiance. She grew up in the 'Ham. I was her A-days leader--I think? Anyway, I approve. She's a good girl. He's definitely marrying up. (I'll probably get a phone call about that comment.) Congrats you two! Now behave yourselves.

I actually do have some big news, that I forget, maybe purposely avoided posting because I've tried to not make a big deal out of it. But then I decided what the hay?

I got a MAC BOOK AIR!!!

Okay, that's not really my news, but I did get one. And I am in deep smit.  Seriously. It boots up in .27 seconds. Faster than a Porsche can go from 0 to 60. The keyboard loves my fingers, and the other way around. I don't spend half my writing time undoing the vodoo the computer weaves on me.

But here's my other news.  I won an award for Putting Up Stars. It's the Marilyn Brown Unpublished Novel award.  I get a good chunk of money, a fancy certificate, a press release, my name on a plaque, and bragging rights. My mom thought this gets me published. HAHAHAHAHA. That's a good one. But I did get to take a fun trip with my mom and Toddler to go accept the award last week, in Utah.

Speaking of Utah. I am getting on a plane next week to once again attend the LDS Storymakers conference. I've been looking forward to this for a very long time. My friend, Melanie J., will be presenting, along with a lot of other great LDS authors. And I get to fly with my writer friend M.H. who I haven't spent much time with lately.  I will not be pitching this year. I'm glad about this. No taco pits for me this go around. I'll be the one kicking back, chilling, watching everyone else sweat it out.

That's it for all the folks on the Farm.

As Al Roker would say, what's 'happening in your neck of the woods?"

Dear Mom

I've been debating for a few days as to whether I should post this or not. But what the heck. It's my blog, and I want to. Besides, it's good to get things out every now and then, even if they are very personal and revealing. And I didn't have a chance to post something on Easter.


Dear Mom,


You commented on my blog the other day. "I am wondering why you believe you need your mother for at least 15 more years (not that I am planning to leave anytime soon), when you have shown me over and over again, that you are doing very well on your own."


Well, I'm going to tell you.


I had a dream the other night. In that dream, my teeth were falling out. Really. They were just loosening from the roots and falling into my mouth. It was very distressing. I knew it had something to do with the antibiotics I was on--the same antibiotics that at this point in my life, keep me breathing, thus keep me living. And I couldn't go off of them simply to spare my vanity. I told Husband, and he just laughed it off. We were walking into a fancy party, and I knew you would be there, and that you would take me seriously. I found you, and showed you my mouth. You responded just as I knew you would. Compassionately. You grabbed me by the hand and said, "We need to get you to a doctor right away!" We took two steps, but suddenly you were like a lead weight in my hand. I turned back, and a horrible look flashed across your face. I already knew. You were having a heart attack or a stroke. I reached for you but you tumbled to the floor. I dropped to the ground in the midst of all these oblivious people and held you in my arms. You were conscious, but we both knew you wouldn't be for long. You tried to cry out for Dad but he was so busy telling a story to some acquaintance that we couldn't even get his attention. And I knew he was going to miss your last breathe. He just wouldn't stop talking long enough to listen. 


My eyes darted around and I yelled for somebody to call 911. There were dozens of people hovering, and of course, as it always is in a nightmare, none of them could get cell service.


And then I woke up.


I was so glad it was only a dream. But it made one thing clear. 


There will come a day when you will leave me behind. And I won't be ready for it. A daughter is never, ever fully prepared for that time, no matter how old they are. I don't care if you're six, thirty six, or seventy six. It will still be hard, and scary and dreadful.


But.


I know that I will be okay. I will be okay because of everything you have taught me. Because I know my Savior lives and He atoned for our sins. Yours and mine, Mom. And because He was resurrected. And because you didn't marry that good-looking Catholic who wanted all your sons and daughters to be priests and nuns. And because you waited seven more years until Dad came along. And took a leap of faith and got married in the temple. And because you and Dad stayed strong to each other and to us and to Heavenly Father. No matter what. 


We are a Forever Family. And I will love you no matter where you are. I will always need you. 


Because you're my mom.


Love,


Susan

What will you bury?

We've challenged the Young Women in our ward to read the entire Book of Mormon by July 1st. I've been struggling in the execution of this challenge. I read each morning with my family, but in order to finish by the goal date I have to read additionally on my own later in the day. It's been hard to find time to read twice a day, and I've been disappointed with how quickly my eyes are scanning the words, just trying to get through the allotted pages.

The point is not just to read, but to ponder and have your life be changed in some way by what you read.

Every Monday night, around the world, members of our church have something called Family Home Evening. It can be a little daunting trying to come up with activities/lessons that my children will find engaging. Usually I do something out of The Friend (a children's magazine put out by our church) or copy someone else's idea of Sugardoodle.net.

But today I had a fantastic idea.

I was reading Alma 24. In this chapter a group of people who have spent their lives engaged in bloodshed and wars, have a change of heart. They become followers of Christ and realize how badly they've sinned. I've heard this story a hundred times, but today I saw it in a completely different light. The short of it is this: they feel bad for all the killing they've done, and make an oath that they will never kill another person again. They want their swords to be bright at the Second Coming, not stained with blood. They believe in this promise so much that they gather all their weapons and bury them deep in the earth. But they didn't just bury their weapons knowing they could go dig them up later if they needed them. They promised that they would die before they would pick them up again. And when the Lamanite bad guys came to fight them, rather than fight back, they laid on the ground and let themselves be slaughtered. And not only that, but they praised God as they were being killed.

How could they be that strong? How could they lay there as those they loved were dying on every side and do nothing, all because they'd made a promise? And how weak am I, that I make a resolution in the morning and by that night I have failed miserably?

Can you imagine being one of the Lamanite's doing the killing? Murdering people as they laid on the ground and prayed aloud? After they'd killed one thousand five hundred people, they stopped. Because their hearts were swollen at the atrocities they were committing, and at these people's faith.

Here's the thing I thought about today when I was reading this. I may not be a murderous sinner turned good but I have things I need to bury. Things that I would rather die than to ever do again. They aren't terrible things, but they are things that make me feel terrible. Things that make other people feel terrible.

Tonight for FHE I shared this story with my family. Then we all sat down and cut weapons out of paper. On the back we each wrote one behavior that we wanted to bury. One thing we wanted to give up so badly we would rather die than do that thing again. My kids wanted to make multiple weapons with bad behaviors to bury, but I wouldn't let them. Because I was serious. I wanted them to work hard on the one thing they had chosen.  Husband led the way outside where he dug a hole and one by one, we laid our weapons down in the earth. Then he covered them up.

Many things were buried tonight: hitting, bad attitudes, a lack of appreciate and the inability of seeing life the way it really is. And many things were brought to light. When reading the scriptures I try to figure out why certain stories were included. Most of the time I'm stumped. Not on this one. Not anymore.

We need to bury our sins, really bury them, one by one, if it takes us the rest of our lives. And hopefully by the time we face our Savior again, our swords will be bright and clean, and free from stain.

What do you want to bury?

Undercover testimony

Blogging isn't really my thing. I started this blog because I knew, being an aspiring writer, that I 'should.' Because that's what writers do. It's a way to network. But even after almost two years, I don't love it.

Sometimes I wonder if I have anything worthwhile to say.

I worry that the time I spend blogging (which isn't much compared to some folks) is wasteful.

I worry that no one will read it, or that no one cares.

I worry that I'll say the wrong thing.

Today in conference, President Uchtdorf said that we should blog, and text our testimony. I know they put out a statement a few months ago stating that we should share our testimony through our blogs and through Facebook. That's when I wrote the post I Am Mormon, Hear Me Whisper.

But it was rejuvenating to hear the words spoken from an apostles mouth. I haven't talked about my faith on my blog in a long while. And I realize I haven't shared with you how I came to have a testimony.

As was stated by Pres. Uchtdorf in conference, my testimony wasn't like Paul, or Alma the Younger, or Joseph Smith. I didn't have an angel appear to me, or see God and Jesus Christ. Mine is like the puzzle he spoke of, fitted together one piece at a time, until I could see the whole picture.

But that doesn't mean I don't remember each and every jigsaw piece. I do. And I continue to understand each time a new piece locks into place. It's like a tiny little A-ha moment that I didn't see coming, and suddenly the picture is a little more clear.

I worried a lot about feeling the Holy Ghost when I was a kid/teenager. I worried that I wasn't capable of feeling it, because up until that point I didn't think I had.

Now, I laugh at that because I know what the Spirit feels like, and the more I feel it the easier it is to recognize His presence. And, looking back, I know I felt it often.

But back then, I thought something was wrong with me.

Here's what I didn't understand. Gaining a testimony isn't some huge moment that knocks you over and changes your life forever. Not usually, anyway. Not for me.

It's line upon line, precept upon precept.

I was sneaky when I was a kid, in a very good way. My mom was a seminary teacher (this is a class most LDS kids take in High school. They get up an hour earlier than the other kids in their school and go sit in a religion class every school day. It's awesome!) for nine years, I think. This, like all the callings in our church, was a voluntary assignment. She had to prepare the class everyday, and then teach it the next morning. I've had this calling too, and it is very demanding, yet very rewarding. I remember one year when her box of materials arrived. We sliced it open and checked out the contents. There was a new video series (I can't for the life of me remember what it was called. They were the ones that were taken like slides, but it was a video. The kids in the video lived in Box Elder--I remember that much). I was so excited. Things were different then. There were no movies like The Best Two Years, or Testaments or anything like that. We had a few videos like Families are Forever, and Labor of Love. But to hold in my hand an entire collection of videos for teenagers was like finding a chunk of gold.

And then my mom told me that I couldn't watch them. I was devastated. I think I was probably twelve at the time, and seminary didn't start, for me, for two more years. Uno, Dos and Tres got to watch them, but not me. The church wanted the younger kids not to see them so that they would be able to appreciate them when their turn came in seminary.

I knew all of that, but it was too much temptation. I would sneak upstairs and pop them in when no one was watching. And I felt the spirit. Not because I was being sneaky, but because of the videos. I craved anything like that.

Looking back, I realize that yearning was the Spirit encouraging me to seek after truth and testifying when I found it. I felt the Spirit. I felt it all the time, I just didn't know it. Looking back I can pinpoint times I felt the truth.

When I would watch church videos put out by the church. Curled up reading any and every Jack Weyland novel, or The New Era. Listening to Bounce Back, a motivational tape. (Does anyone else remember this?), when I sang in church, when I bore my tiny sliver of a testimony at Girl's camp. When my mom would sit with me and bear her testimony to me, or try to counsel me. She didn't think I was listening or watching, but I was. Every single word, every single action.

That was just when I was growing up. The list continued and continues still, each time another piece dropping into its spot.

I wait for those tiny moments. I wait to feel that peace and joy. To know that my Heavenly Father listens and loves me, and that He hears me when I pray. That He has a plan for me and my family. That Jesus is my brother and He is very actively rooting me on and giving me opportunities to grow and change and help others.

I still remember sitting in front of the t.v. watching those videos I shouldn't be watching, and I smile.

I was hungering and thirsting after righteousness.

I still do.

I know I always will.

Go ahead. Laugh at my pain.

Husband is a genius. At least he thinks so. Last night he came home with a bunch of casting material, so he could enable the kids to pull the World's Most Awesome April Fools joke today at school.

The kids were so excited. Well, except for O.S. I don't know what his problem was. He has an old soul or something. Doesn't believe in being the center of attention or living it up a little. He's very cautious, the complete opposite of his dad.

O.D. and Y.S. gladly held their arms out while Husband rolled the material around their wrists. They thought this was a brilliant idea. I coerced O.S. by telling him he didn't have a choice because I could see he was conflicted.(And in the name of Father/Son bonding) He does this on a lot of things, dirt biking, snowboarding, etc. But once he gets the hang of it, he's in love.

The kids went to sleep in their casts, and woke up excited, and ready.

Well, O.S. not so much. Actually, I might have yelled at him and told him to stop being such a party pooper.

When I dropped them off at school they had their back story's ready, and their poker faces on. I went home, cleaned the house, and ran some stuff to the Institute building for Husband's stake activity tonight, and forgot all about the casts.

Oh my word, you would not believe what was on my answering machine when I walked in the door.

A message from the school nurse asking me to call her as soon as I got this message. And she did not sound happy. Not one bit. Usually when she calls she's all chipper and tells me immediately that my kid is fine but they have a headache, or got a scratch on their knee. This was a completely different person.

I could invision her telling me that maybe Y.S. had gotten ticked and whacked somebody in the head. Or  O.S. had come into her office complaining that the cast hurt. Or maybe, simply that, she did not find this funny one bit. Alls I knew was that I was going to get a lecture, and I wasn't calling back. No sirree.

So I called Husband and told him that he would have the pleasure of fielding this call since it was his bright idea.

You need to know that I ALWAYS handle the uncomfortable calls at our house: telemarketers, bill collectors (okay, that rarely happens, thank goodness), angry mothers of our kids' friends, etc. But I wasn't doing it today. Uh. Uh. Today, I was putting my foot down.

Husband must have sensed my knees knocking, because he agreed to be a man and make the phone call. I told him to be sure to call back and let me know how it went. I proceeded to chew my nails to a nub, waiting.

He didn't call me back, so a few minutes later, I called him. He had the most solemn tone to his voice, and I knew something was really wrong. He said that yes, the nurse didn't think it was funny. She'd called Child Protective Services and that they were on their way to our house right now. I swear all the air left my lungs and I felt sick. We aren't those kind of people. But I know people who have had CPS come to their house for lesser offenses. Husband said he was on his way home right now.

A hundred things ran through my mind at that moment. My sweet kids having to go live with someone else until we can make CPS see we really are good parents. Me hugging the CPS lady's knees as she drags my children away. How, if we got to keep the kids, that I was going to have to switch schools, because there was no way I was ever showing my face down there. Ever Again.

Me telling O.S. he was being silly and just to have a little fun.

I felt like a horrible person for not listening to him.

Husband busted into my mental montage by asking me what I was going to do, like maybe I had some brilliant plan of how to wipe all of this away. I told him I was going to pray. And cry. The tears were pooling. I love my kids so much, I can't even imagine someone taking them away. Then his voice got shaky and told me to hang on, and repeated that he'd be right home. Then I heard a sob. "Are you crying?" I asked. Husband almost never cries, but I knew if he was crying, then this was so bad. He can't cry. I'm the one who cries! He's the one that hugs me and tells me it's not all as bad as it seems. Even when I almost hemorrhaged to death, he made a joke about it. Pointed to one of my veins and said, "You still have blood in there. See? You're going to be fine." And now he was crying?

Then he made some kind of strangled, shaking noise. So I asked him again, terrified, "Are you crying?" The strangling sound came again, and I said, "Are you crying, or are you laughing?" No answer. "You're laughing!!!" And then I realized.

He freakin' April Fooled the crud out of me.

Husband should have been an actor.

Apparently, the school nurse was going to be the one to tell me the whole CPS story, but when Husband called her, the second she picked up the phone she burst out laughing and said she couldn't do it. She congratulated us on one of the best April Fool's jokes ever.

Can I just tell you once again how much I love my kids' school?

I know this is TMI but if we all had days like this more often, there wouldn't be a need for laxatives.

(Oh, and please don't try this at home. It really could have ended badly. There will be no more fake casts at our house, except maybe on Halloween.)

Happy April Fool's Day, everyone!!!