near death

Today my mother told me about the day I was inches away from death.  My mom, her then boyfriend, Ron, my two older brothers and I were going swimming on a hot summer day 1986. I was seven years old. We had to park across a large highway from our swimming hole. We all hopped out of the van excited to swim.  I, being seven, was anxious to get there.  Without looking both ways before crossing the street, like my mother had always taught me, I stepped out into the highway.  My mother saw my action and also saw the oncoming semi truck.  As I stepped out into the oncoming traffic, she reached out and grabbed my pony-tailed hair.  While she pulled be back toward her and before I was even clear of the highway, the massive truck sped past us, missing me by mere inches.  I am sure that we continued on to the swimming hole.  I am certain I was oblivious to the real danger that I had narrowly missed.  I have no memory of this day or the events that occurred in it.  For many years after, this image of me stepping into harms way, haunted my mother's dreams.  A true mother's nightmare.

Seconds. Inches. These are the fragments of time and space that stood between me and death before the age of accountability.  Since Mother told me this story earlier today, I have had images flashing in my mind.  Not only images of grieving parents who have lost their only daughter, but images of things that would have never come to pass if that summer day had become fatal.  Two childhood best friends would never have become sisters.  A certain blind date would never have led to love.  Three beautiful spirits would have been born to someone else.

But seconds and inches are all that is needed to preserve life.  And because of the quick actions of a mother's instincts, I am here living a beautiful life.  Today I count my blessings a little more sincerely, because all it takes is seconds and inches to take them all away.

passions

I just spent an entire week on a tropical island with my husband and six of our closest friends.  There were no children, no emails from work, no schedule and no obligations.  It was glorious.  I enjoyed the trip immensely.  Kauai has some of the most beautiful beaches and waterfalls in the world.  We ate delicious food and spent every waking moment relishing in being a bit selfish for the week.  

Part way through the week, I started to notice an interesting side effect of spending so much time with with the same people for this allotted time.  I like to think that I know these particular friends quite well.  I have know some of them for going on 15 years.  I know many of their likes and interests.  But in this week, I began to see them a bit differently. 

How do I explain this properly?  I think each one of us has a passion.  Q's is architecture.  He can look at a building over and over again for hours and not get bored.  He notices each detail (the beautiful and the flawed), explores the possibilities of what it is and what it could be, and never seems to tire of it.  He could spend each and every day examining buildings, seeing the beauty in them that most people never take notice of.  I know this by the way his entire physical body changes when he sees a particularly interesting work of architecture.  His eyes truly do light up and it's almost as if all his senses become more acute.  Years of seeing this change in him when we happen upon a building of interest has helped me recognize the signs of this type of passion in others.  After a while I clued in that whenever this happened, I needed to relax, sit back and enjoy the setting as Q pulled out the camera and took as many pictures as humanly possible.

I became aware of some of these "passions" in my fellow travelers this week.  The passions became especially evident in the men of our group.  Perhaps because I am more familiar with the women, seeing and talking with them on a more intimate way in our everyday lives, I was more struck when I noticed them in the men.  

I first became aware of one of Ty's passions when the search for the perfect wave began, but I didn't fully comprehend why a wave would be so interesting until we happened upon a beach that had several surfers.  Now don't get me wrong, I already knew the reason Ty was looking for the right surf conditions was because he was a surfer himself and was looking for a place where he could join in this action, but what I didn't realize was that it was a passion.  Not just the surfing itself, but the conditions of the ocean, the size and force of the waves was equally interesting to him.  But when we sat on the beach and the rest of us pulled out a book to read, Ty and R did not.  Their physique changed the same way Q's does.  And then out came the camera, and unlike the rest of us that snapped a couple pictures, they continued to do what always happens when passion and person meet; the camera did not get put away, but remained in use until it was time to leave. I imagine if this was back when we still used 35mm film, that many rolls would have been consumed.

It was on a drive along the highway that clued me into the fact that TC is every bit as much an engineer as Q is an architect. Again, I already knew TC was an engineer.  I already knew he could talk about building roads until the sun went down, but it didn't become evident as a passion, until I saw the camera come out as we passed a stretch of highway that was being constructed.  Had we deemed it a "Point Of Interest" I am certain more pictures would have been taken, and every bit of it analyzed.  But it seems TC has more than one passion.  As we hiked along the Napali Coast, paddled up the Wailua River and looked on the Wiamea Canyon, I could see the physical changes happen to him as well.  The beauty of the nature around him, changed his demeanor.  Words like "incredible", "amazing", "magnificent" and "unbelievable" flowed freely from his lips.  At every possible moment, the camera appeared, and sadness consumed his eyes when he realized he had finally run the battery too low to take any more pictures.

There were others that I noticed, but the reaction to each was the same.  It makes me reflect on what I am passionate about.  Am I passionate enough?  Do I give into the pleasures of being consumed by the beauty of my passions often enough?  Would I be more passionate about other aspects of my life if I let myself fully enjoy the things I love most?

Q often tells me he thinks other people think he is a nerd for liking architecture so much.  But I think it is beautiful to know what your passion is and to make it part of your everyday life. Passions, like talents, should not be hidden under a bushel, and we should  not be ashamed of the passions that help define who we are.

hand in hand

Corbin took Eliza's hand and led her to play on the playground, so she wouldn't be afraid.  I held Sol on my lap while swinging on a swing, listening to his laughter. And as Q snapped pictures, I thought, "This is it. This is as good as it gets. This is why we are here."  It was a moment when I saw without obstruction the joy that having a family brings.  The kind of moment that should happen more often, but I am frequently too busy or preoccupied to notice.  How many times have other moments like this passed me by without realizing it?  I have rarely appreciated my family more than I did in that moment.

My life is good.  I am very, very blessed.  

less is more

"Because their hearts are set so much upon the things of this world and aspire to the honors of men that they do not learn this one lesson." - Doctrine & Covenants 121:35

This was given in a talk in church on Sunday.  It is in reference to the powers of the priesthood, but I felt it hit home in a different way.  There are so many ways that our "hearts are set so much upon the things of this world" and hinder our ability to "learn this one lesson."  For me it is being in denial of our finances.  It is justifying the things that I think I NEED or DESERVE, when these things aren't needs at all.  And I have so much more than I deserve.

After piecing things together that have been coming on for the past month or so (reading two ensign articles, Q receiving a blessing from a member of the stake presidency, and hearing this scripture read at church) I knew I couldn't live in denial any longer.  More must be done to help us become financially free.  Free from the weight of hefty debt payments, free of panic stricken feelings of "what ifs" and how we are going pay for them, free of the guilt of exceeding our income, free of the fear of losing our home.

The funny thing is, it does feel more free to live on less.  I thought that throwing out the credit cards and turning of the satellite TV would make me feel a sense of anxiety, and yet all I feel is relief.

Less is often, so much more.

a day to remember

Saturday was one of those days I hope I never forget.  I took Eliza and Corbin snow skiing.  It was Corbin's second time and Eliza's first time.  Corbin was zooming down the mountain (lapping us...he did twice as many runs as E and I did).  Eliza was a trooper, never crying, even when she stayed on the chair lift too long and had to jump off.

One of the things I enjoy most in life is watching my children learn something new.  I love seeing the joy on their face when they realize this new, yet difficult, task is worth the effort it takes.  That great things can come with work and endurance.  Both Liz and Corbin were learning that even though we sometimes fall and get hurt, that it is always worth the effort to rise and try again.  That the reward is greater than the sacrifice.  Who knew that learning to ski could teach so much?

in awe

Have you ever judged someone harshly and then cringed at yourself for being so critical when you later find out that the person you so cruelly judged, is a simply amazing person?  And has that person become one of your dearest and closet friends?  I have.  She is.

A couple of days ago, my very organized week was turned upside down when we found out Q had to leave for an unexpected business trip.  Things that I needed to do were going to be very difficult without Q there to help with the kids.  So I called on this friend previously mentioned.  I told her the perdicament and she simply replied, "What do you need?  We will make it happen."  Not, "oh sorry, I'm too busy" or "I don't know...It's a school night" or any other imaginable excuse.  She offered to do things I would never have asked of her.  She was simply willing to serve with love.  Amazing.

She is not the only person in my life to do these selfless acts for my family.  I can't possibly count the times when friends or family have stepped up in my time of need.
--Need someone to watch your children in the middle of the night while you are in labor having a baby?  Happily.
--Drop everything to pick up your sick child from school so you don't have to wake your sleeping toddler?  Certainly.
--Listen to you cry about struggles in life?  With open arms.

I am continually in awe of the amazing people in my life.  I marvel at the goodness in their hearts.  And I wonder how I can become like them.

honesty

It seems like a lot of my thoughts stem from something I've read.  Reading is one of the great joys in life.  On this particular occasion I was reading a magazine with an article on eliminating stress, or at least I think that was what it was about.  The only thing I remember is it talked about being honest.  The author expressed that we should be honest about what our lives are really like.  Not in just the words we say, but in our actions.  Actions?  Huh...I had never really thought about actions being honest or dishonest.

Sometimes we put on appearances that things are different than they really are.  Maybe we pretend to have more money than we actually do by buying on credit.  Or when we have a party and our house is perfectly clean, not a fingerprint on the fridge, or dish in the sink or dust bunny behind the TV.  Is that a true representation of who we are?  I am particularly sensitive to this subject of housekeeping because I am such a terrible housekeeper.  I love having a clean organized house, but there seems to be so many other things I would rather be doing.  Inviting people over is at times the only way I actually get it clean.  The pressure of someone seeing my house a disaster is what motivates me to get it clean.  The author of the article suggested that when someone says, "I love your house" or "Your house looks great" that we reply by saying something something like, "Thanks it took me three days to clean it."  Ha ha, that's the truth.  Sometimes it does take me three days to clean my mess.

I love seeing how other people live.  And I love looking at homes.  Before we had children, Q and I used to go to real estate open houses just for fun.  So a few years ago when I went to a friend's home for the first time, she offered to show me her house, and I was delighted.  It is a modest home they had built several years prior.  As we came into the master suite, we went into the bathroom and she said, "please excuse the mess, but we live here."  Ahhh....those were the sweetest words I had ever heard, "we live here".  Of course her house isn't perfect, with a few clothes on the floor and things on the bathroom counter.  It was an eye opening moment for me.  Those words gave me permission to not be embarrassed that we LIVE in our home.  That kids make messes. That some days I leave my shoes and clothes lying on the ground at the foot of my bed because I was just too tired to put them away properly.  That the dishes don't always get done before I go to bed. And there is a constant mound of clean laundry that needs to be folded in the chair in my bedroom. Those words helped me realize that I don't have to be perfectly tidy to allow others into my home. What a relief.

So with that in mind, excuse me while I go do the dishes and pick up the living room because a friend will be here any minute.