Happy Easter!

(Max's sweet duds courtesy of my uncle Patrick who wore them in the 1960s, also that's leftover licorice on his lips)

I love Easter. It has such happy memories for me as a child and now as a parent and with a  better understand of the true meaning of the day I love it even more. I was able to speak at church today on the topic of Easter and I thought a lot about what I knew about today. Here are my thoughts on Easter:

As most of you know, I am a convert to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Let me fill in a few more details that illustrate why exactly I chose to be baptized and where it has taken me. I was baptized Catholic as an infant and we alternated as a family between Catholic masses and Episcopal services. We had bouts of activity but largely I remember only going on the holidays when I had a new dress and patent leather shoes to wear that would click upon the tile floor. I loved Easter because it heralded in Spring, flowers, the sun, green grass. I remember sitting on the hard benches in the Episcopal chapel which had beautiful floor to ceiling stained glass windows, about 6 on each side and the sun would project through them creating a rainbow effect in the entire room. It was beautiful, but it was not was Easter was about. The windows were beautiful but beyond that, I did not actually know much.

Through hymns, the scriptures, a few Sunday school classes, and two years at a private catholic middle school I learned about the Savior’s life, a lot about His death, and briefly about His resurrection. I never really doubted His existence and that He did all that was written about Him, but I definitely didn’t understand it; the magnitude of His life, the importance of His death, the pure joy of His resurrection.

I learned that slowly but it started with a moment that is forever etched in my mind. I was meeting with the missionaries before my baptism and as we sat in a plain room at the Institute, they told me we were going to watch a video. It was a video of Gordon B. Hinckley testifying of the Savior. He stood in front of a gleaming white Christus, and told me that the Savior’s life was an important life. He testified that the Savior really did live a perfect life and completely fulfilled His Father in Heaven’s mission for Him. He finalized His mission on Earth through His triumph over death, resurrecting from the tomb He stood as a glorious and perfect being. I listened and took in the words but it wasn’t until a missionary asked me a simple question, “What do you think about what he just said?” I was used to these questions and I always wanted to answer them sincerely and with depth, so I thought about it and then I felt and recognized the Holy Ghost for the first time, signaling to me the truth of the words that were spoken by a prophet of God. I believe the lesson was intended to teach about the reality of prophets on the Earth today and it certainly taught me that point, but mostly it kick started my testimony of the Savior. For the first time I realized that the Savior’s life meant something, it wasn’t just a story of a really good man. It was a record of the Son of God.

I definitely did not grasp everything immediately, only through continued learning and studying and desiring to know more have I grown in my understanding.  Today I would like to share with you three simple but significant principles that I know concerning the Savior and why they are important for all of us to know.

1. His entire life is an example and lesson.

As we read about the miracles He performed, the parables He told, and the acts he completed I hope that you see them for what they really are. They are constant lessons to us, lessons that teach us about charity, diligence, our strengths, our weaknesses, and our infirmities. We may not bear the physical mark of leprosy or be blind, but when the Savior said, “be thou clean”  to a leper (mark 1), “man, thy sins are forgiven thee”  to a man with palsy (luke 5), and “Daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole; Go in peace, and be whole of thy plague” (mark 5) to the woman with an issue of blood; He was not only healing that person at that time, but promising that He can do the same for us. We have pains of the body and pains of the heart and I have learned that each miracle and each parable is about me. It’s about you too. You are the prodigal son, you are the widow, sometimes you are the disciple who doubted or the one that denied Him three times but mostly you are why He chose to live His life perfectly and complete the Atonement.

2.    He really did suffer all.

Elder Holland spoke in general conference in 2009 about all the Savior went through from being condemned to resurrected, the most significant to me was when he said:

Nevertheless, that the supreme sacrifice of His Son might be as complete as it was voluntary and solitary, the Father briefly withdrew from Jesus the comfort of His Spirit, the support of His personal presence. It was required, indeed it was central to the significance of the Atonement, that this perfect Son who had never spoken ill nor done wrong nor touched an unclean thing had to know how the rest of humankind—us, all of us—would feel when we did commit such sins. For His Atonement to be infinite and eternal, He had to feel what it was like to die not only physically but spiritually, to sense what it was like to have the divine Spirit withdraw, leaving one feeling totally, abjectly, hopelessly alone.

To know that the Savior knows what I have felt, what I will feel and everything that anyone could possible ever feel is humbling but for him to feel that loneliness means the most to me. Before I truly understood why He lived, I felt that loneliness, I wasn’t completely aware of it but looking back I realize that my sixteen-year old self was lost. I know this because I realize I hadn’t a care in the world, I lived day to day with no real idea of my purpose and no real sense of my future. To not know these things is to be truly lost, to not understand and feel God’s love for you is true loneliness and the Savior experienced even that. To know he suffered is to know He loves you, to know he understands, to know that we are not alone in anything we experience.

3. He really did triumph over death and lives today. 

This one is harder to explain how I know except that it started with that moment listening to a prophet of God testify of Christ and deciding to exercise my faith and be baptized. As an eighteen year old getting baptized even then I did not fully understand the commitment I was making. I was acting on faith. But when I emerged from the water I felt so much gratitude for the ordinance, as I went to the locker room I knelt down in my wet clothes in only what I can describe as pure and utter joy. I felt that newness of life. I felt such extreme joy I thought I could burst. The past version of myself was buried in that water and I came out a new person. Because I have felt that I know that the Savior’s resurrection was real. If it was not, I could not have felt that triumph. We all have the opportunity to feel that triumph each Sunday was we renew those covenants and because of His resurrection, because the tomb was empty,  “ye might ^bbelieve that Jesus is the^cChrist, the Son of God; and that believing ye might have ^dlife through his ^ename.” – John 20:31

I know that Jesus Christ really and truly is the Son of God, the Prince of Peace, and the King of Israel. I know that He lived a perfect life, a life that is an example of how I should strive to live. I know that I cannot be perfect without the divine assistance of the Atonement, the ultimate gift the Savior has given to all of us. I know that His Atonement covers my sins, my mistakes and my weaknesses as I come unto Him and seek the mercy of His arms and the grace that He is so willing to give. I know that He knows every pain I have felt and will ever feel and I know that His triumph over death was real and that He lives today. His reality gives me hope and joy through all that I experience.

This boy

Can I just tell you how much I love this little boy?

I do.

I was able to capture this picture the other day while we were looking outside after a rainstorm. He has decided to start making this face that cracks me up and I was trying to get it on camera. I got this picture instead. Although it would have been hilarious and cute if I had captured his new favorite face, this picture captivates me.

It reminds me that this little human has a deep soul. I look into those beautiful eyes and realize he is going to a  grown adult someday. He is my little toddler now acting crazy and opinionated and learning something new and showing it off every day. But it won't be that way forever, someday I will recognize these eyes in a grown man. They will probably always melt my heart. Children have a way of doing that.

There's really a baby in there!

We finally had our ultrasound after a few scheduling mishaps. Of course I wanted Kyle there and his schedule really limits our options and then the tech got sick and so we had to reschedule but it finally happened. We finally got to make sure that it was actually a real live human life in there. I have learned that if you get an ultrasound you should try to get the last appointment of the day. They will take their time with you and print a million bajillion pictures on one long strip and there will be no rush, no hurry and you will get to be in that surreal moment of parental bliss at seeing feet kick and hands move and yawn over and over again.

When we had our ultrasound with Max is was short and quick and we got about 5 pictures including a full frontal face shot that showed a skeleton and two large hollowed out spaces for eyes. It was kinda freaky looking so we endearingly named our unborn child skeletor, because we are awesome parents. This time we even got 3D imaging which was super trippy and basically this child looks like Max's twin.

Still don't know the gender, to be honest we were tempted but the reality is that we truly enjoy not knowing. No I don't wonder constantly, but of course I wonder. It gives me something tangible to wonder about with this child. There are a host of other things that can bring anxiety like whether Max will be ready or how we are going to manage 3 ten week interships with a newborn and toddlers next year but wondering boy or girl is a lot easier on my mind. Plus, we just LOVE the surprise. 

Evolving Style

I mostly write pretty deep, reflective, serious posts. I thought I would lighten things up a bit by talking about clothes. Yes, clothes. I love clothes and I know I am delusional because my belly is currently turning into a basketball but let's pretend like it's not, or that at least I shouldn't have to sacrifice style just because I am pregnant.

I don't know about you, but I think about my personal style WAY too much. At a young age I started thrift shopping at the local Goodwill that was just down the street from my home, my friend and I started by sifting through the boys section for unique t-shirts that you couldn't find at American Eagle or Old Navy. As I grew older and far too big to snag those 99 cent shirts in the boys aisle I realized I could find some pretty nice name brand items. To this day my best finds are a sherbert orange Jcrew pencil skirt, an emerald Shabby Apple dress, and pair of Joes Jeans wide legged pants that were clearly never worn. I started going for the thrill of the find rather than need or finding something that would fill a hole in my style wardrobe.

After having a baby I felt like my style totally changed, I had to consider practicality WAY more than I wanted to. Babies make messes and need to be nursed often. Machine washable, breathable, comfortable clothing became my hunt.

Then I felt like I was sacrificing what I wanted to wear for what was "practical." Where was the balance? In my mind I want to look simple, classic, comfortably chic. Now I don't have the budget currently to revamp my entire wardrobe but I do have pieces there that I love and feel they fit the bill. This makes me happy. But a girl can dream bigger still right? So my dream wardrobe is comprised of beautiful, wearable dresses, skirts jeans, t-shirts, and button downs. Let me show you what I mean.

But most of all, I want Boden dresses. Have you heard of Boden? They sell amazing, easy, beautiful, simple dresses (and lots of other great stuff too!). They are everything I want to wear but while we are in grad school the dresses will have to wait (unless I find one at a thrift store...) Here are my favorites from their new summer line. Can't you imagine not having to think about your outfit and just throwing one of these on? A girl can dream and this girl plans on achieving her dream when her husband graduates.

 1

 2

3

4

Sigh. 

Bump

I have not been keeping track of this growing bump of mine but I realized this Sunday that the light through our living room window made for a cool back-lit effect.  So much to Kyle's annoyance we took some pictures. I am 19 weeks along and my belly button is already popping out. It's pretty much ridiculous but the same thing happened with Max. 

Pregnancy is a funny thing. You can read every book, every bit of information but it's quite indescribable feeling something moving within you. I consider it a blessing and a privilege to be able to carry children and although I may moan and complain to my husband (and anyone who will listen really) I am trying to remember this as a blessing, something sacred and holy. Helping me see there really is no reason to complain.

Your body is a temple

Yesterday I had the opportunity to teach the young women at church about why they should treat their body like a temple. In preparing for my lesson, I had the overwhelming impression that before we got onto such fun topics as modest, healthy eating, cleanliness, and chastity I needed to really help them examine the fact that just like the temples on the earth today, their bodies are flesh and bone that are inseparably connected to their spirit. Their bodies are glorious and have an amazing purpose ahead of them to fulfill. The task seemed daunting especially as I considered the fact that these girls are in high school.

The teenage years are not a time of healthy body image, in fact those years and the ones leading afterward as we gain a grasp on our identity is when we are most susceptible to feelings of unworthiness. We largely take it out on our bodies, the way we look. We are flooded with images of "perfection," which if we focus too much on, strip us of self-confidence and ultimately self-respect.

I reflected upon my own journey with body image.

I feel so blessed that my mother was extremely aware of putting too much focus on looks instead of health. There were no weights in my home, instead healthy eating and exercise were modeled and encouraged. My mom didn't lecture us though. This coupled with the fact that I hit puberty WAY later than everyone else gave me some sort of magical protection through the whole, "I hate my body" age. Sure I wished I was taller and that my hair was a little more manageable but these are normal and appropriate compared to going on a diet to lose 5-10 extra pounds when that weight is an ideal and not a reality.

However, growing a child changes your body entirely. When it is used for such a purpose as growing life, it takes on it's own form to do so. It stretches and grows and at the end of it all, your body feels completely foreign to you. I had stretch marks, deep ones. I knew they would come for I had seen my mothers own skin with it's rippled effect. However, I was not prepared for the reality of how it would look on my own body once I was really able to see them for myself. Thankfully the stomach is not something that is shown beyond the walls of my own home, but there was an instance that made an everlasting mark.

We were camping with some friends at a lake over the summer. They don't have any children yet and the wife and I chatted about pregnancy and I mentioned my stretch marks. I told her how weird they looked and how hard it was to get used to. Out of curiosity she asked if she could see them, I wanted to own them. To not be scared to show the marks of the journey I had made to bring Max to this world and so I was completely willing but still nervous to show her. Our husbands were nearby and I told her husband that it would be best if he looked away. It was one thing to show it to another woman, someone who understands the female body and was merely curious, it was another to show a man beyond my husband the marks on my skin. He looked away but at the last moment it seemed curiosity got the best of him as well. He glimpsed and I saw. I saw disgust. His wife remarked how genetically she felt lucky because stretch marks were not in her future. This reaction combined hurt.

It is hard for me to directly look at the skin that stretch and grew and supported a child and see beauty. When I see my stomach I think of that look of disgust. I don't blame him, it was an honest reaction to something he had never seen but gosh it took a toll on my body image.

I often hear the phrase that stretch marks are just tiger stripes, a reward of some sort. But to me that seems as stretched as my skin. To me my stretch marks just are. Yes, they are a visible reminder of the privilege it is to bear a child. One of the most glorious of purposes that a female body can imagine is to bear a child. It truly is a miraculous journey and if I have tiger striped to prove it, fine. But they don't define my body, they aren't me. My body is not one of disgust. Rather it is beautiful, sacred, and I should treat it with respect. To keep in mind that it is a gift from God. He gave me this body.  He made it capable of doing amazing things. He gave me this body so that ultimately I would learn, "You don't have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body." -C.S. Lewis.

Our bodies are the earthly temples of our spirits. What makes a temple holy is not it's beautiful structure, its bright light against the night sky, its pristine, clean, and organize manner but the sacred and amazing spirit within that only exists because of it's eternal purpose. That is why the temple shines, that is where its true beauty comes from, the inside.

Watches

I bought my first real watch on a trip to Seattle with my friends family. It was a silver fossil watch that blinked two different patterns behind the ticking arms. It was analog and not waterproof. I found that at fifteen it was an unnecessary purchase and it now resides in a drawer in my childhood home.

The next time I bought a watch was before my first real job as a camp counselor. I knew better this time, I needed a digital, waterproof guy. I bought a bright yellow plastic watch for about $20 dollars at a local supermarket. During that first week of staff training, I met a boy whose hair matched my yellow watch, he flirted with me and over a week a developed a deep crush. He also had a watch, it had once been blue but had faded to a periwinkle, which I teased him endlessly for. Eventually we swapped watches, a modern day teenage mating ritual. He wasn't entirely mine yet, but we each had a mark made on each other. He had my watch and I had his.

Over the course of our relationship we kept each others watches and we both wore them until they broke. His on his mission and mine during my first trimester in college. Mine had deteriorated so much in fact, that I used a safety pin to keep it on my wrist, to keep reminding myself of my first love. One night while jumping into a car with friends it fell off. I realized too late into the night and when we returned to the scene of the crime it was completely broken. I felt like it was a doomsday sign and cried in hormonal angst. What did it mean?

Nothing turns out. I replaced the watch with a close match and wore that until it broke (turns out $20 watches have the lifespan of about two years). I bought a simple fake leather band watch at Target for when I had the privilege of working in the temple, that broke in about two weeks and so it became a pocket watch residing in my white dress.

Each watch is indicative of my life at the time it was worn. Watches that told me when to go to sleep, when to daydream, when I would see the love of my life, when I would learn about women's rights, Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, and my purpose on earth. These watches got me places on time and told me how quickly that time was passing.

The most interesting watch though is the one on my wrist currently. The day I returned home after having Max, I sent Kyle out to pick up a few supplies. He was gone for longer than expected and when he returned home he had a bright white watch that he had picked up. He knew I needed one for the journey of nursing I was embarking on and he knew I had been eyeing white watches but  had yet to make a purchase. I was taken aback because I had just had a baby and the thoughtfulness was overwhelming. I have used this watch well and the band is more of a gray than white now but I love it nonetheless. About two months ago the battery starting going which means that no matter how often I reset the time, it is always ten minutes slow. It has been a math exercise and I have enjoyed the tiny challenge it offers my brain each time someone asks the time. But now the plastic band is ripping and in a week or two this watch will also be gone for good.

This watch reminds me of my firstborn son fully, and in a way I feel like it is extremely telling of where I am right now.

I am nearly half way through this pregnancy and running after a toddler each day the time is passing faster than I can keep track. I feel like I have more time than I actually have. Days of just Max and myself will soon be at a close and I will be given the harrowing task of balancing two children and myself.

To be honest, it scares me wholeheartedly, but I know it's possible. I know it's possible because millions of women before me have done it. They have raised children under extreme circumstances, balancing not only two children but two children, and a job, and sometimes they even do it all alone. But that is the other thing, not only am I am extremely lucky to have a wonderful husband, but I also have the assistance of the Holy Ghost to help me each day that I struggle.

So when I buy my new watch it will remind me of the bridge created from where I am to where I will be as a mother of two. It will chart once again when I will nurse, naptimes, as well as playdates and how long someone has been watching Yo Gabba Gabba.

A small watch timeline for you to enjoy. I am missing early pictures of Kyle and I because they are on a computer that was accidentally given away (LONG story). But in essence, Kyle and I, camp, college, reuniting after his mission, and life with Max.

 Time is a funny thing, constantly moving, ticking away, even as we trick our minds into slowing it down and speeding it up. All so we can manage and cope and try to understand in what time we really stand.