Natural Creativity

One of the things that I imagined I would do when I was a mother was create with my child. Unrestricted, without lines or rules art. Just exploring colors and texture and shapes. I love the therapeutic process art can be and I want my children to know that it is a great way to deal with emotions, but ya gotta start 'em young.

I was fortunate enough to come across a great natural paint set at a local store and I have been really happy with them. They are naturally non-toxic and I can understand all the ingredient on the label. Max likes them too. Especially in his mouth. 

This was the first time I really sat down with him to create and I loved every minute of it. I love how curious he was about the paint and watching him discover how he could manipulate it. Art is extremely important to me. I have found so much joy and peace from it. Music has touched my heart, painting have inspired my soul, and musicals have brought me so much joy and laughter over the years. 

Our world needs art. Where science and knowledge are the mind and logic of the earth, art is the soul. It gives life and breath to us. 

On Little Boys

I am the mother of a little boy. I am not sure what I expected from having a son but my heart certainly cried for lost frilly dresses and tea parts and princess dress up clothes. What was I to do with a boy? Now to be honest, baby boys are pretty much identical to baby girls in smiles and burps and crawling. But the secret no one tells you is that baby boys threaten to steal your heart from your husband. 

Once we were having  brunch with some friends and Max had a spill and he cried a bit as someone helped him to his feet, this friend consoled him by saying, "That's okay, your a tough boy, it's alright." She then quickly caught herself and interjected, "BUT you are also sensitive and gentle too!" 

How often do we demand "toughness" from our boys, which can often cripple them emotionally. While Max is tough (dude, this kid hardly cried when a pine cone was thrown straight into his forehead), he is also very tender. He loves to cuddle and nuzzle into me before bed. He is over the moon about his father and is gentle towards newborn babies. He knows to softly pet dogs and he gives the best surprise kisses.

I love having a little boy to play hide and seek with or chase around. I love watching him explore, whether it is the pages of a book, a piece of fruit, or the contents of my bag. I was given a boy and it has rocked my world in the best possible way. He has changed who I am not only by making me a mother but by giving me the charge to raise a gentleman. 

When I imagine his future it is not whether he will be a fireman, doctor, teacher, or CEO. I imagine him as a husband. Being sweet and loving towards his wife. I strive to have him understand what this world is like for women and to do all in his power to support and praise his wife. I see him as a father, with that same enthusiasm he has now playing with his children. Loving them and giving them the attention he received. I see him living a gospel centered life with a firm faith in his Savior. Not because his parents share the same faith but because he developed it on his own. He discovered for himself the joy that putting your trust in the Savior can bring. The healing power, the sweet relief, the peace through trials. I see him standing as a pillar of truth, but also looking towards his community for continual knowledge and understanding of what this world asks of him versus what his Heavenly Father asks of him. I see him striving righteously to know the difference.

I couldn't possibly fathom what life would be like having Maxwell in my life. Oh what a blessing it has been. What a challenge, what a joy, what an utter delight.

Yellowstone

It's like another world, Yellowstone. Full of springs and geysers bubbling away. Melting the stone before your very eyes, steaming and spouting and reaching towards the sky. I'm not really sure what I was expecting when we got here but certainly not the wonder that is bubbling, acidic mud. Not the rainbow colored pools of water creating sulfuric steam that I had to walk through.

 To be honest... I loved it. I loved looking at the trees and flowers that were growing so close to hostile territory.

 At one point we were staring out at the grand canyon of Yellowstone and there was this poor tree, alone on top of a rock at the edge of an abyss. Kyle wondered aloud, "Do you think the tree ever wishes it were somewhere else?" and I responded, "Probably, but he's also like,'well, I can't really move, guess I'll just grow anyway.'"

 So instead the tree twists to fight gravity creating a gnarled appearance and pretty soon it will grow so tall that it will fall. Maybe only a few hundred feet before it get's caught on a rock but it will fall either way. But it doesn't really have a choice, so it grows despite it's circumstances. And so the small flowers grow a midst bacteria and trees and shrubs are showered with muddy mists.

 I think about how we sometimes find ourselves in undesirable circumstances and we think, How the heck did I get here! But there we are.

We don't always get to choose where we grow, but we do get to choose to grow. Perhaps we should take note from nature and grow despite our surroundings, reaching heavenward always.

Change begets gratitude

Change isn't so bad. It can promise beautiful things but a lot of times it is unpredictable and that can be scary.

This week we have been looking for a place to live. Yep in one week we needed to find a place, sign a lease and move by friday.

It seems doable at the beginning, and then we realized it was Labor day. Then we realized background checks can sometimes take forever. As the days passed the reality that we might have to crash at one of our friend's house started becoming more apparent.

I of course am wonderful during times of stress and uncertainty. Not.

I start to panic internally and my anger fuse is a little shorter than it usually is. This change was starting to freak me out a bit. Especially since I didn't know what I was changing towards, just that my home was going to change.

My prayers became increasingly sincere and full of pleas for guidance, support, help. But, I also noticed that they also became increasingly full of thanks.

When life throws you loopholes there is a tendency to focus on the problem, to analyze and scrutinize until everything is fixed. But I found that the only thing that reduced my anxiety towards finding a place to live was to offer thanks.

Gratitude for the fact that my family can be together forever, gratitude for gospel truths, gratitude for a healthy child, gratitude for wonderful friends, gratitude.... the list would go on and on. Gratitude is what brought me peace and comfort. Knowing that even though I might not have a permanent residence by Friday that I have people who will take care of me. People who will let me sleep in their own bed.

At lunch today we decided we seriously needed to discuss our options for tomorrow if our background check hadn't made it through the system yet. We finalized things and then, miraculously, the phone rang. We were cleared and the lease will be signed tonight. We immediately looked at each other and at our child covered in cheese and decided to offer a prayer of thanks.

Change can scare us away from God, can push us from His loving embrace with thoughts of, "why me?" But it doesn't have to. Change can also drive us towards the only true place of peace and comfort and stability. In the comfort of His love we can recognize all that we have and are because of Him and what a beautiful journey that can be.

If we let it happen.  

Drifters

We are drifting currently. In a perpetual state of suitcases and beds that aren't our own. We are buying half gallons of milk rather than whole gallons because we are never in a place long enough to finish an entire gallon. All of our stuff is packed up ready for a move to an unknown location.

We are drifting because Kyle's internship is over and we had places to go and things to do before routine starts back up at the end of September. So when there is a 75th Anniversary at Camp Dudley...we go. Packing up our apartment? Back up to Spokane. Family vacation in Yellowstone. It's been planned. My suitcase feels routine now. My makeup jumbled up in a bag. This whole summer I had to decide what few outfits I would wear. Enough to last me a week but who are we kidding I am a compulsive overpacker.

What if scenarios play in my mind. Rain, hiking, swimming, camping, fancy dinners, exercising....I like to dabble in various activities. Quite frankly, as much as I love the stability of staying in place there is something alluring about drifting around.

You have to adapt, go with the flow, and be creative. I feel like I am working full force trying to figure out how to get my child to take consistent naps when every day looks different and often we are moving.

But my little boy is a champ and has taken to drifting about like a star. He reads to himself in the car sometimes but mostly stares out the window. I like to imagine he is taking it all in, this earth that has been created for us. Imagining climbing those trees, scaling rocks, and swimming in lakes and rivers. He is a dreamer. I can tell.

Currently we are in Yellowstone and have just been amazed at what is here. Bison on the side of the road, geysers and hotsprings bubbling, releasing sulfuric steam. It's pretty wild, literally. On Saturday we will make the drive home and attempt to find a place to live for the next year. Originally we had a place lined up, practically perfect with a backyard and everything. But it fell through, with the owner wanting to make updates so that we can't move in until October. We were  hoping for September. So the great search for an awesome place is on. I have dreams of course of woodwork, hardwood floors, and a backyard for Max. But hey, I am dreamer, always imagining the possibility of the wishes of my heart coming true. It keeps me going, especially when we are nomads moving from place to place. My dreams ground me, create a foundation for me to build my life upon, even when I myself can't stop moving.

Up

I think I have a problem, I think I think too much.     -Maria Mena

That is one of my favorite songs of all time. It jumps into my head when I realize I have been mulling over something far too long to the point where I have lost perspective. It's like I am too close to a Monet painting and all I see is the brush strokes.

I have a hard time feeling successful. I used to depend on teacher's compliments, grades, and awards for feelings of success but now I look around and pray that I can feel Heavenly Father's approval which I know is there.

I love to write, I like to draw, I can read like a racehorse and analyze like...a good analyzer. I love to sing and dance and boy do a love to sit down and watch a good movie. I love working with children, building their confidence and reminding them so much of the love this world has for them.

I can recognize what I am good at and what I need to work on but sometimes I need that immediate gratification.

My mom is a rock climber.

She started when I was about 3 years old and I used to dread it when she would head out on a Saturday and be gone ALL day climbing away in the mountains. I even hid her keys in a vaccum bag once. I never understood the draw of climbing for her.

A couple of years ago, before I got married I finally got to go up with her. The sun was unapologetic but my mother was her optimistic self and encouraged my ability to climb the column of rock before me. I trusted her belief in my ability and so I climbed up.

I have gone occasionally during the summer but it was always just a fun activity to do with my mother. Last summer I didn't go at all being pregnant and then a new mother. But this past Saturday I went up, without my mother. She watched Max so I could just climb and not think about all that motherhood stuff that can get so messy like a Monet painting.

Turns out I am pretty good at climbing. I mean, it's just climbing up rocks but it can get hard at spots and your arms are aching and you can either decide to just go down and try another time or you can continue to go up.

Climbing rock, real rock, is a beautiful experience. There is no music, only the chatter of friends. Nothing to focus on except the rock in front of you and even though you are close up, the rock is straightforward. Sometimes there is a puzzle to find within the grip of your fingers but it is ultimately that pull to get to the top that clears your mind.

One goal. A mix of adrenaline and peaceful clarity and moving up. Then the sweet sigh of success.

Ode to a Nectarine

Great for teething.

 Delicious to mothers and babies alike.

Nectarines are a divine gift of the summer.