One thing I love about our church is the program of Family Home Evening.  Every Monday evening we are encouraged to gather our families together to sing, pray, have a lesson, do something fun together, and eat yummy treats.  In our family we rotate who is in charge of each thing, so the kids get to teach lessons, choose songs, plan activities, and make treats.

Last night Jonah was in charge of the activity, and with it being the summer solstice he decided we needed to swim until sunset.

So we did.

We built sandcastles.

Hunter learned a new word.

Goose, goooooooose…

After a hot day the air had cooled off, but the water was pretty warm.  It couldn’t have been more perfect.

I am so thankful for this tradition we so faithfully keep in our family.  Gathering 5 little ones around the piano after dinner clean-up (and all the prodding and nagging that often entails) does not always feel like the fun, or sane, thing to do after a busy Monday.  Often the treat is a hurried Tupperware full of “shaker pudding” (instant Jello pudding dumped with milk into a Tupperware and shook, shook, shook by the child in charge of treat) or graham crackers dipped in milk, but by the time we have sung together, by the time a little person has taught their lesson and shared a heart felt testimony about their love for the Savior, by the time we’ve finished honoring a child’s wish to jump on the trampoline all together or play a game of Bananagrams we go to bed happier than we could have imagined in those harried minutes of wrangling.

It’s a miracle in the making…

one week at a time.

Our little mama finch has been hard at work filling her nest in our front door wreath.  I thought it fitting on this Mother’s day to show off what this little mama is working so hard to do.

10 years ago today I became a mother.  My little tiny Brenna came into this world and completely changed mine.  In so many ways I feel like I was born when she was– I found my strength and power and purpose.  And I finally began to understand my own Mom, to love and appreciate what I just didn’t have the capacity to love and appreciate before.

So, thanks mom for being my mom.  I love and admire you so much.  I think of all the little things– ordering me cool magazines so I could draw pictures of tigers all day long, not nagging me to practice the piano, but paying for lessons anyway, tolerating my messy room, but making me do my own laundry, lining up Action Packers along the kitchen wall to pack for week long camping trips and making it look so easy and fun.  In so many ways I am trying to be just like you, and it’s funny how in so many ways I am.

Thanks to all of you mothers who come here and read my blog.  Thanks for your comments and friendship and all the good you do in your own little sphere.  There is nothing more important in this world than being a mother.  I really believe that.

Lest anyone get the idea that we’ve enter into organized tranquility, I thought I’d post some photos of real life here.  The big table is no longer out of reach.  As you can imagine, this really complicates things around here.

I hope you all had a good Easter weekend.  I love it when General Conference falls on Easter weekend.  Don’t get me wrong, I love going to church on Sundays (all 3 hours of it) but the biannual break is most welcome, and when it falls on Easter it gives even more time for thought and rest and contemplation.

I try to be really positive here on the blog, try to make it a place where I can record my successes and hopefully inspire someone else out there, but I have to admit lately that I’ve been a bit overwhelmed.  There are times and circumstances that just  make us painfully aware of our weaknesses and shortcomings– and I feel myself in that place very frequently lately.  I am doing exactly what it is I’ve always wanted to do.  I’m the mother of a large family.  I get to be with each of those little children everyday to help them learn and to try to help them discover and reach their full potential.  I’ve been blessed with a view of the big picture, of what I want to create– I might even say I’ve been called to it.  I always knew it would be hard, really hard, but there are just some things I didn’t have any clue would be this hard.  Being a parent is difficult on so many emotional and spiritual levels I didn’t even know existed.  Throw on top of that other relationships, church responsibilities, and never ending mountains of laundry and sometimes I just want to say– “Sorry, I just don’t have it in me.  This whole thing you’ve asked me to do, Lord, is way more than I’m capable of.  Is there some other way?  Can it be easier somehow?”

And this weekend I realized I’m not alone in feeling that way.  Jesus felt the same way.  He knew what it was he was called to do.  He knew the beginning from the end, the essential nature of his role in God’s eternal plan, but still he said, “Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me.” (Luke 22:42)  Somehow, even with his infinite knowledge, the weight of what he was called to bear was surprising when he was actually experiencing it– more than he thought he could endure.  But, he knew it was his role to fulfill, his feat to accomplish, and so he faithfully said, “Nevertheless, not my will, but thine be done.  And there appeared an angel unto him from heaven, strengthening him. ” (Luke 22:43)

I know what I’ve been called to do does not compare in magnitude to what the Savior did, but it is important, even essential in some sense.  And, it probably can’t be easier.  I just need to trust in his will,

and draw strength from my angel(s).

My sad, sad experience with the little birds I grew so attached to make me look forward all the more to this:

Isaiah 11:6-9

6 The ^awolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them.

7 And the cow and the bear shall feed; their young ones shall lie down together: and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.

8 And the sucking child shall play on the hole of ^athe asp, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the ^bcockatrice’ den.

9 They shall not ^ahurt nor ^bdestroy in all my holy ^cmountain: for the ^dearth shall be full of the ^eknowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea.

 

I wish it were like that now!  Faith, faith…

I must say that this has to be one of the single most beautiful things I have ever seen.  I cannot even put into words how excited I am about these 4 beautiful eggs, and I can’t think of a better farewell gift than a nest full of beauty right where I can spy on it.   I think I will probably have to print this photo really large and hang it in my house in Denver.  Thank you robins.  I will sorely miss you and my haven of trees.

 

I spoke in church today for the last time before we move.  Here’s my talk if you want to read it.

  to-see-things-as-they-really-are.pdf

 

I love Ohio in the spring.

 

 In honor of our twittering friends that are finally returning to our yard I made these little birdies for my kids for Easter. They are felted wool stuffed with wool batting with Barry-engineered copper wire feet.  I also got this book.  It has been hiding in my closet and I can’t keep my hands off of it when the kids are in bed.  It is way, way cool.

Snow has been fluttering down here all day, but still thoughts of rebirth and renewal are at the forefront this weekend.  My mind has been so full of mental clutter.  It seems like the “We’re moving” thoughts are bulky and distracting– taking up so much space, sucking up my time in thoughts of getting the oven fixed, researching carpet prices, finding a match to the white paint on our baseboards and doors.  And while these things are necessary and even exciting in their own way I’m excited for tomorrow, the Sabbath, the most important Sabbath.  I am thankful for the time to focus and reflect on what life is really all about.

It seems the things I read, the lessons I learn from my children, the conversations I have with friends, the sad, painful experiences of loved ones in my family highlight so much what this season of rebirth is all about– love.  Pure, selfless love.  Knowing, believing, seeing that we are all of infinite worth, of infinite potential, full of infinite beauty.  That is what Spring teaches us–and that no matter how bleak and gray and cold the winter is, no matter how dark and deep we are buried, there is rebirth.  The little green shoots will poke their heads up again.  Blossoms will bud, meaning fruit will grow.

There is an infinite source of good, of peace, of renewal, of love.  The sun will always rise, there will be warmth and growth, because the Son did rise.

I hope you have a wonderful Easter!

I didn’t make my Sunday post yesterday so I’m going to do it today. President Hinckley, the prophet of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, died last night.

I will never forget the day he was sustained as prophet. It was a Saturday morning and I was getting ready for my Homecoming date with Ramon Relyea. The General Conference broadcast was on the TV in my parents room and I was drying my hair and various other girly things in front of the mirror in their bathroom. I could see the TV’s reflection in the mirror above my mom’s dresser. After the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sang the opening song I felt the power of the conference– that I was witnessing something monumental and eternally significant. The opening prayer was said and then we sustained President Hinckley as the new president and prophet, seer, and revelator. It seems such an ordinary thing– just watching TV and getting ready for the day, but it really was one of the defining moments of my life. As I stood with millions of others around the world to sustain a new prophet I KNEW that it was true. It was real. I felt the overwhelming power of the Holy Ghost with every fiber of my being.

Later, during my second year in college, I had the opportunity to hear President Hinckley speak in person. I need to go through my old journals and see if I can find my notes and impressions from his talk. What I do remember was that I was serving on the Utah State University Institute of Religion council and got a special floor seat. I sat on the very front row, right in the middle. I was face to face with him! I felt the same witness– that he was truly a prophet of God. It reverberated through my entire being.

I am so thankful for his council, wisdom, and insight. I am so thankful for his visionary leadership in helping people throughout the entire world. I am most personally grateful for the example of his beautiful marriage, the partnership he had with his wife, and his obvious love and reverence for her. I want to follow his example. More than anything else in the universe I want a marriage like that– more than anything.

He emphasized the basics of education, personal prayer, meditation and scripture study, of praying daily as couples and families, of holding weekly family home evenings. All such small and simple things that carry profound power. I hear over and over how hard it is to go to school, to pursue life long learning, to commit to daily scripture study and prayer, to gather wiggling tired children everyday for payer and scripture reading. It may be hard, I guess, but my response is this: IT IS SO MUCH HARDER NOT TO. As children of God we need time with him daily. We need to experience the quiet of our own minds– to know what is at our core, to feel who we really are. We need the routine and bond of daily focus on things greater than ourselves with our children and spouses. I believe the one thing that has had the most powerful impact on my family for the good is a very simple thing. Each night before we go to bed Barry and I kneel beside our bed and pray together. We take turns being voice– I’m even days and he’s odd. We kneel in gratitude for the love and friendship we share, for the joy we find in our children, for the comforts we enjoy. We ask for help and insight– that we can grow in love and understanding for each other, that we can guide each of the unique personalities of our children, that we can know how to serve and love others. There is such comfort being united in gratitude, every single day. Sure, I guess it might be a little tricky to establish routines, to go to bed at the same time or overcome whatever obstacle, but my life is easier by doing these little things. We can never get too far off track. I love doing these hard things. IT WOULD BE SO MUCH HARDER NOT TO.

Thank you President Hinckley for your council and example. I love you.

 

John Hafen

The Mountain Stream

1903, oil on canvas, 26 x 23 inches

Springville Museum of Art

 

My mom sent me this quote by LDS artist John Hafen this week:

 

“The influence of Art is so powerful in shaping our lives for a higher appreciation of the creations of our God that we cannot afford to neglect an acquaintance with it. We should be as eager for its companionship as we are eager for chairs to sit upon or for food to sustain our lives, for it has as important a mission in shaping our character and in conducing to our happiness as anything that we term necessities.”

 

When I read this I thought of a journal entry I wrote my last year in high school– the time I was trying to figure out exactly what it was I would do when I grew up. I wrote:

 

“”Art is the symptom of a soul.” ( That’s a quote from my English teacher Mr. Dempsey.) The very fabric of our being which separates the men from beasts is our ability to create, to think on abstract and elevated levels, and our awareness of those abilities. Whether the means be visual, literary, musical or physical– the arts are humanity’s vehicle to express self awareness, imagination, creativity, and develop abstract thinking skills. Art sharpens our senses, and through expressing self awareness one becomes keenly aware of his surroundings. Reading, writing, drawing, acting, dancing; these give us emotional connections to the people, places and things around us. These connections instill value and appreciation for all creation. “

 

I really believe this. In making, in creating we weave threads into our relationship with the ultimate Creator. We start to feel our own potential and can see more clearly the infinite possibilities in other people. Art is an extension of our spirituality in a very real and concrete way. My favorite Joseph Smith quote today is “If men do not comprehend the character of God, they do not comprehend themselves.” Human creativity is at the very core of our divine nature, our inheritance from God– in using it we can come closer to comprehending both.

 

I’ve been clicking through the 7th International Art Competition at the Museum of Church History and Art. Here’s one of my favorite paintings by Joshua Baird entitled By Design:

 

 

Happy Sabbath! Do something creative this week– even if it is making your kitchen sink clean. If that’s the case, really make it sparkle!

 

 

Just three this week.

But, that was my goal. Two weeks down, 50 more to go.

I’ve spent the past 2 weeks preparing of a funeral for a woman at church. Echo Pryor Arnesen left behind a husband, 6 children, and 19 grandchildren. She was one of those people you just can’t forget once you meet her. She was exhuberant and always had something to say. It was actually pretty hard to keep her from saying anything There were a few times during Sunday meetings that I would cringe as she recounted stories of dreams she had and how the Lord directed her to get a child out of bed because its head was wrapped in covers…I can’t think of any more right off the top of my head, but most Sundays there was something. The stories were true though. She had a simple faith and not only believed in miracles, but expected them.

In the room where the family set up the viewing were tables of pictures and scrap books. She was a wonderful record keeper. She kept a journal for each of her 6 children from the time they were born and continued to add to them after they left home. What a treasure. She was unforgettable by virture of her personality, but her love and commitment to her family ensures that she will never be forgotten.

I don’t love my children any less than Echo loved hers, but will they remember that when I’m gone? I’m just so deeply impressed by her committment and dilligence to write so personally for each of them.

Maybe I should take a page from her book…

Eight years ago today Barry took me up Logan Canyon to go cross country skiing. It was going to be an epic trip, from one canyon to another, through the pure white snow and blanketed forest, the two of us doing something we loved to do– together. It was REALLY snowing, my skis weren’t waxed quite right for the conditions, I was sliding backwards down small hills, I was tired, I was cold, I wanted to go home, we turned back… I foiled his plan, but he asked me to marry him anyway. I knew I loved him then. In fact, I knew I loved him the moment we met. We were soul mates before the world was.

But, I am so thankful love grows with time. We have three children. We’ve lived in three different states. A lot of the time we’ve only had each other. And we like it that way. He is a part of me. I’m a part of him.

This week will be a milestone in my life. As I sat and read and meditated while everyone else was at church on Sunday I realized that I have given birth– I had to endure the physical pain, I had to will myself to relax through contractions, I had to cry and bleed and suffer and endure. I went through the whole process, and though I did not come out of it with a baby, I did give birth to something.

I gave birth to a new beginning, a chance to start over…

I gave birth to a realization that God loves me with no strings attached–
and that a relationship with Him does not mean I will just have more things to do.

I think too much.

I need to let myself feel;

to feel my body, to feel my emotions, to delve into my heart and really experience what is there,
without the noise and crowding of quilt plans or book plans or blog entry plans or Relief Society lesson plans or conversation plans (I design, cut, sew, bind, view, display, discuss the same project from start to finish over and over in my mind. So much so, that most of them never get made, and I miss what is happening in the moment.).

But I think more than anything I gave birth to a realization of my absolute dependence on Barry– to a deeper love. I feel swallowed by it. We are so inseparably connected. I wish I could explain it or have the right words to say to him, but I just can’t.

Barry, I love you. I need you. I thank you.

Love, jess