contentment

Just last week, I was driving in my beat up old van, with cracks in the windshield, torn window tint (courtesy of little people fingers), brakes that while are safe, squeak each time I stop, and an awesome screeching sound made every time I start my car.  I was wearing a brand new $8.99 shirt bought from Ross, with an old re-purposed pair of shorts, and sandals that are still cute, but have rips in the soles. In the back seat sat my sweet three year old boy.  Earlier, while Sol was at preschool, I had volunteered in my older children's classrooms at school.  I had the day off work and had just finished a lunch out with my husband (and pre-schooler) for the first time in a very long time.  We used coupons for free sandwiches to Great Harvest that our insurance agent gave us for our birthdays.

I have had similar days as this before.  So often on days like this, I dwell on the things I do not have.  I only see the imperfectness of my situation.  Sometimes it is hard to see the good in the moment.

But, on this day, as I was driving, I had an amazing sense of joy.  At that moment, no new car or expensive lunch or designer clothes could have made me any happier.  I felt completely content.

I am grateful for the Spirit impressing on my heart that day of the goodness of my life.  Reminding me that happiness is not derived from things or possessions, but on our ability to have gratitude in our hearts for all that God has given us and to love our family unfailingly.

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.

traditions

Four days ago, I sat on a beach in Trinidad, California watching my family.  There was just us, five Lowrys, alone on the sand. An overwhelming feeling of joy came over me as I watched Q and Sol walk hand in hand along the waters edge.  I smiled as I observed Corbin and Eliza dancing and playing in the surf.  I knew then, that I was exactly where I was suppose to be.  I was with the only people that really matter, doing what we love most.

We have been coming to Trinidad once a year during the summer since before Corbin was born.  It has become a tradition that helps define who we are.  Our children may not be able to remember what events occurred in which year, but they will be able to remember the sounds, and sights, and smells that only the Northern California Coast can bring.  They will have a feeling of nostalgia as they think back on our family tradition.  It was this train of thought that led to a flash-forward moment, of seeing my children grown, with children of their own on this very same beach, instilling in them the tradition we began so long ago.  I realized that this tradition will ring strong when they are grown, as it does for me now.

way to go

I ruined Father's Day.  Right from the get-go.  Way to go, Whit.  I'm pretty sure this will go down in record books as Q's worst father's day E.V.E.R.

I think it's because I'm such a lousy mother.  If I could figure out how to parent better I might not have had a major melt-down at 6:30 this morning.  The plan was to get up, take care of the kids, make breakfast, and let Q sleep in until he had to go to his Sunday morning meetings at church.  I got up, but that was the only thing that went right.  I was incapable of keeping Sol from literally kicking and screaming at me for 30 min straight which caused the mommy meltdown, I ATTEMPTED (amid sobbing) to make breakfast, and with all the racket going on in the next room Q did not get to sleep in.

I wanted it to be a great father's day, for an amazing father.  Quinn is everything I could have hoped for in a father for my children.  He shows and tells them he loves them, he teaches them, he plays with them, he is a great example of goodness for them, and I don't think any child on earth has a better father than my children do.

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.