Creative Christmas Results

Christmas is over, and most of the presents are put away.  I say most because the books I decided to give are still here and there, waiting to be read or written or drawn in. 

Even though I got some unexpected money from Santa to buy presents with, I decided I still wanted to give each of my children and grandchildren a book for Christmas. So I searched the internet for some ideas, free printable pages, recipes and articles.  Designed some simple covers, and wroted some comments and personal thoughts to make each book unique or special. 

Each of my 5 children received a book containing 4 stories I had written when they were children.  One of the stories was written during a time when 2 of the children were receiving treatment for a congenital disease they had.  My son spent several weeks confined in the hospital to a bed due to traction.  He didn't respond to many things, but one thing he did respond to was reading.  To keep things varied and special, I would write a short children's story at night after I put the other children to bed, and take it to the hospital the next day.  As I read the story, I would have him draw a picture to go with the story.  Of the many stories I wrote during that time, I only have the original of this one, for the rest were given to other mothers with children in the hospital or kept by the nurses to share with other patients.    2 of the stories I included were ones that the children would take to school to share with their teachers at Halloween and at Christmas.  The 4th story I included was one I wrote and have shared with many primary classes throughout the years.   One of the girls said she didn't remember these stories, but another daughter was thrilled to have a copy of them and remembered the times she shared them with her friends at school. 

My 3 year old grandson received an activity book that contained coloring, tracing , counting and matching games and pages.  The 5 year old granddaughter received a book of paper dolls and clothes to play with.  The 10 and 11 year old girls received some fill-it-in journals.  I wasn't sure if the 10 year old would really like it, but she was thrilled with it and said it was just what she wanted, and the smile and her face said as much as her words.    For the older 3, ages 16 and 18 I gathered some family recipes, and included some ideas of things you could cook in a microwave or easy dorm meals for students.  Then I personalized each book with my testimony, some ideas on being a missionary, some personal traits I admired, some values to live by, and some suggestions from others in foster care on how to make personal changes.  Finally for a precious great-granddaughter, age 1, who is always in my heart, I printed out some personalized Disney stories for her I hope she will enjoy. 

I thank the Lord for the spirit of creation he blesses me with. This is not the first Christmas, nor I am sure will it be the last, that a little thought and originality will be given and received with love.  Creativity is one of the gifts the Lord has given me that I have been able to use throughout the years to touch family, friends, neighbors and even strangers in powerful ways.  I pray that I will remain open to the spirit of direction and will continue to touch the lives of others for many more years.  

 

Creative Christmas Beginning

Christmas is drawing near, whether I am ready or not. I tried to pretend it wasn't coming, but C bought a tree last week, and A and I decorated it. We brought up one of the nativity sets from downstairs and set it up. Now I am getting into the spirit. I guess I will let it come. Not only will I let it come, I will look for ways to enjoy the season and make it one of memories. Christmas is usually one of the best times of the year for me. I love giving to all my family and friends, even if the gifts are small. I love making gifts with my grandchildren that they can give to others and see the delight in their faces when they make something they know will be special for someone else.


Everyone around me has a list of "wants", "wishes", "if you have the money" and "Santa ideas" that they are either compiling or have already given me. They are all great ideas and gifts - just one problem- they all require something I don't have an overabundance of...Money. Oh they know money is tight, but they believe Grandma can work miracles (or will receive one between now and Christmas Eve). So this year is one of those years where creativity and simplicity will be called upon frequently until a miracle does occur. I have had many of these kinds of Christmas years, so this is not new, just a push in the right direction to use and share my talents with others.


So since I only have a little more than 15 days left to create an abundance I gifts I decided I better get started. I decided I wanted to give something to each of my grandchildren and each of my children. I want it to be personal and special, and books or stories is what keeps coming to my mind. So last night I got online and started searching for ideas. I decided to start with 3 year old D. His gift from grandma will be a box of crayons and an activity book. I was able to find some easy pages to print off (I have about 18 right now) and will put them together into a comb bound book for him. This morning as I was browsing, I found some simple little paper dolls and clothes to print off. I figure I can design a cute little folder for Jordan to keep them in. Then I found some lds clipart journal pages that could work as a start of a gift for A and S. This evening I thought about putting together a book for T and E that has a few simple recipes, household tips, life advice, etc and call it something like, "When You Can't Reach Grandma". I think I could come up with some ideas to make mission, college or leaving home on your own a little easier or give them a few laughs on a rough day.

I could say these gifts would not cost me anything, but they still will take printer ink, which I can buy with my paycheck next week. However, 5 or 6 gifts for the the $40 the ink will cost seems practical to me. Now I just need the time to write, and I am sure it will be found. After all I found the time to write these few thoughts today, so hope is bright before me.

Well - off to bed so my creative juices can fill and I can get a new start in the morning.

Life Moves On

Life Moves On. There is no way to stop it. No matter what you do, or do not do- Life Moves On.

Life Moves On. There is in way to slow it down, pause it or even stop it. There is no way you can rewind it, speed it up or fast forward it. There is no way you can hasten it along or make it linger. You cannot keep up with the count as the moments flow on. and in the trying you fall even further behine. It just keeps moving whether you want it to or not at its own steady pace.

Life Moves On, It brings you a myriad of experiences, feelings, lessons, hopes and even disappointment. It moves you from stage to stage never clearly marking where one ends and the next one starts. Life ages you gradually, one day at a time and doesn't require a thank you for its gift. Life allows you to choose how you will experience it, and doesn't care whether you change your mind occasionally on how you will do it. Life understands no days are alike so each day may be faced in different ways . Life leaves memories in it's wake, and understands if you choose to forget some, and treasure others, or even sometimes have to reach back to search for some you forgot to gather while they were happening Life as you know it begins and then in an instant it changes or ceases to exist at all. Then Life Moves On,

Life Moves On. It is different. You are different. There are Questions to be answered and Questions to ask. Life asks what you did with it and why and listens patiently even when it already knows the answers, for it knows your retelling life in your own words is how you decide to accept your life. You Move On with Life.

Then Life Moves On.

Down and Up- Going On

I knew it had been a while since I had written, but I didn't realize how long it had been. Time has gone and there is no way of calling it back. Life has been up and down, happy and sad, trials and joys, no two days ever being the same, while time has kept going on.
There have been many downs, but this evening I would like to concentrate on the ups of the past few months.
One of the up days was my oldest granddaughter and my oldest grandson's graduation on June 4. It was a very emotional day, and filled with love and joy. I was so proud of T. He is so smart and has worked so hard to achieve the honors he has. T wore a blue cap and gown, but he also wore a special overlay honoring him as being among the top 5% of his graduating class, and 5 ropes of different colors, each one representing a scholarship he had been offered. As proud of him as I was, I couldn't help but note how he had surrounded himself with friends of the same caliber. Most of his friends that I knew also received additional honors such as scholarships or being in the top 5 of 10% of their class. E wore a white cap and gown, and although she did not wear the honors that T did, I was just as proud of her for her accomplishments, for to reach her goals she had to work even harder than T to make up classes, study, finish extra packets and overcome learning challenges that make it harder for her to keep up and perform as she would like to. I gave T a gold and silver watch, and E a string of multi-colored pastel pearls. Of course the most important person there for E was a 7 month old little girl and her parents who were just as proud of E as I was. E was able to meet with her daughter and the adoptive parents without anyone else but W and I knowing what was taking her so long to join the rest of the family for pictures. I was also so proud of E's boyfriend W. He also graduated in the to 10% and had a scholarship to the University of Utah he can use when he is ready.
**Note: This post was written back in July, but never posted because I got called away and never finishes it. I am still proud of E and T so I am choosing to post it now anyway- finished or not.

60 Is Different

I remember being young and hearing that my grandparents were 60. Sixty sounded so old.

I wondered what I would be like when I was 60 and old. Being 60 was synonomous with slowing down, relaxing in life, retiring and enjoying life in a new way. By 60 all your children were grown, and you and your lifetime companion can focus on gently loving each other as you grow old together. 60 was when you got to enjoy being free to do things with your grandchildren, travel to places of your dreams, have the day free to read a book or just nap as long as you would like. 60 was when your children started helping you more than you helped them. 60 was when you would have your house paid off and be debt free. 60 was when you could stay home and crochet or read a book and not feel guilty about what you didn't get done, because there was just you and your husband, and so there was not so much to "get done". Being 60 meant visiting friends, doing geneology, writing letters to those far away, making memories with those near and having time to ponder not just read scriptures. Reaching 60 meant having the opportunity to be involved in community service as a volunteer or serving with your spouse on a church mission. Being 60 meant having time to make cute little gifts for all of you children and grandchildren (like net scrubbers, crochet hats and scarves, small lap afghans, or "casserole removers" (grandma's name for hot pads) for birthdays and holidays. Being 60 meant being active in clubs, lunching with friends or just being home most of the time so your children and grandchildren could stop by for a few minutes whenever they got a chance to give a little love and get a little love in return.


Twenty years ago my parents were 60, and being 60 for them was certainly not all of the above. Dad was looking for work at 60 and facing the challenge of not finding any. Dad didn't retire from any long years of work, he just didn't find another job. Dad had time on his hands, so he turned to what he loved doing. He carved, carved some more and carved something else. At 60 dad was working hard all week to have things ready for the weekend when he would go to a local restaraunt and carve and take orders from those who were willing to pay for his unique abilities. At 60 mom was still giving piano lessons everyday, there was no slow down there. In fact at 60 mom took on more than ever before. Dad built his wood shop in the garage and turned a bedroom into his carving sanctuary. At 60 mom had to create a color center and become a painter, after all someone needed to paint all those carving he was producing. So at 60 mom found a new talent and has been perfecting it ever since. While grandma used to do geneology at the library, mom at 60 was supporting her brothers in their efforts to organize, sort through and understand all the valuable information they already had. At 60 mom focused on passing down the histories of ancestors to her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. For mom and dad 60 meant change, but not towards relaxation or slowing down, or spending more time with family, hobbies or personal pleasures. It has only been the last 5 years that they have begun to live the kind of life I used to expect for someone of 60.

Now I am 60, and believe me, it is nothing like what I thought it would be like. I can only dream about being able to retire some day. I work 40 hours+ per week, and commute back and forth across town every day. Although all my children are grown, I certainly do not have an empty nest. I have 3 grandchildren who call my place home, and A, the youngest, still has another 7 years of school left before she graduates from high school. While I used to think 60 meant children were independent and settled, I find myself at 60 dealing with caseworkers, therapists, foster care, and the emotional & financial ups and downs of others lives (just as my own parents still have with me). While I believed 60 was when you just sat back and enjoyed visiting quietly with your grandchildren, at 60 I am caring for an active 3 year old and a 5 month old 5 nights & mornings a week, and most of every weekend. So instead of growing old, I am learning how to stay young from experts at enjoying life as each day happens. Geneology for me is hoping I can find a few minutes here or there to write in a journal or a jot a few lines of encouragement to a loved one. At 60 my house was not paid off, instead, due to refinances, I still had a 35 year mortgage, and lost my home of 20 years to foreclosure. At 60, instead sitting down to watch a favorite show and working on a needlepoint or crochet gift for someone, I am logging on to work from home or research a question. Instead of sitting at a quiet dinner table and sharing memories as my grandparents did with me when they were 60, I am creating different memories by doing crafts, cooking or playing with a grandchild to keep him/her entertained so their parents can have a night out or get some needed sleep.

No, 60 is not what I thought it would be like, but it is not bad. What my grandparents enjoyed at 60 has been pushed off to the ages of 70 or 80. It is good to know there is still more time, because I sure need it. There is so much more that I want to do and enjoy I need another 20 years to reach what I perceived "60" to be.

Children Will Listen

"Children Will Listen"

from In The Woods

How do you say to your child in the night?
Nothing's all black, but then nothing's all white
How do you say it will all be all right
When you know that it might not be true?
What do you do?

Careful the things you say
Children will listen
Careful the things you do
Children will see and learn
Children may not obey, but children will listen
Children will look to you for which way to turn
Co learn what to be
Careful before you say "Listen to me"

Children will listen.

Careful the wish you make
Wishes are children
Careful the path they take
Wishes come true, not free
Careful the spell you cast
Not just on children
Sometimes the spell may last
Past what you can see
And turn against you
Careful the tale you tell
That is the spell
Children will listen

How can you say to a child who's in flight
"Don't slip away and i won't hold so tight"
What can you say that no matter how slight Won't be misunderstood
What do you leave to your child when you're dead?
Only whatever you put in it's head
Things that you're mother and father had said
Which were left to them too
Careful what you say
Children will listen
Careful you do it too
Children will see
And learn, oh guide them that step away
Children will glisten
Tample with what is true
And children will turn
If just to be free
Careful before you say
"Listen to me"

Children will listen (repeat 3x)

(lyrics found at www:silyrics.com)

© STLyrics.com 2002 - 2010

No Mistake- He Knew What I Would Need

My Heavenly Father knows me so well. He knew what was coming, the choices someone else would make that would suddenly change a number of the lives of those that are dear to me in ways we would have never imagined. He knew that I would need to handle the knowledge I would be entrusted with in a manner of peace, calm and love. He knew I would need to know I could trust him to care for those I love in his own way and to not rush into any decision or make any judgements that could affect a number testimonies of his forgiveness. The Lord knew I would need to share my own testimony many times over the next few weeks to come, and strengthened me with the knowledge that he will not give me more than he knows I am capable of bearing.

When the bomb was dropped in my lap this week, I listened to the story and knew when I left the person that shared with me was now better prepared to handle whatever came next knowing she was not alone and that someone understood her pain and cared about her worries. In the midst of hearing the reason for the pain in this person's life and the others she cared about, I knew that I was led to a particular blog recently because of the subject matters of the story the writer was sharing. The strongest messages in the story are that no family is perfect, that love and understanding is vital to all relationships, and that healing is found through our Savior, Jesus Christ, when we are humble. As I went home that night I was filled with questions, but I was also filled with a knowledge that the Lord had prepared me to look at this through a different light. My first thoughts were not of how to confront the people involved in anger, but how to share my love and testimony with them. As the story was told, I was reminded of the pain of one of the characters, and my own anger and disgust was replaced by compassion for the person I held most responsible in the real life situation unfolding into my lap through sobs of sorrow and fear. I thought of another character in the story and remembered to not make any judgements, but to love and listen, knowing the Lord knows and loves each of the family members involved on a level I can not possibly understand. My part right now is to teach acceptance and understanding, patience and peace, and most of all to share my love and my testimony with these dear ones.

My Father in Heaven knew what could possibly be coming and over the past few weeks has been helping me to prepare. He has blessed me with a desire to reorganize, and to take charge of an area of my home that has not been used for a while. I know now that he has been preparing me for the choice being made today. My father in Heaven knew that one of the choices would affect everyone in my home, and has been strengthening me and giving me resolve in how to better handle some of my family relationships so that with his help previous reasons for conflict will be lessened or softened. I believe my Father in Heaven knew what was drawing near and provided me additional help with one member of my family so I can have enough inspiration and energy to support other family members who will need my attention and understanding as we make transitions and adjustments in schedules, responsibilities and interactions.

I know my Father in Heaven knows me. I know he loves me and prepares me in silent ways for the challenges and opportunities, the sorrows and joys of life. It is no mistake, he knows what I need and will prepare the way. I know I must trust him more and speak to him more often in prayer. I know I must attune my life to his will, and he will guide me in the choices I make. I know at this time that he will assist me in reaching out in the perfect way to each of my loved ones whether through a hug, a letter, a phone call or a visit, for I know with a surety that he will prepare their hearts to accept the truth of my unconditional love for them. It is no mistake- I know he knows.

Writing Encouragement

It happened again. I was talking with someone about one of my recent experiences and I was asked, "Have you ever thought about writing a book?" A familiar compliment followed. "I can't believe how you can look at things so calmly and keep going on." Again the thought was thrown out "Have you ever thought how much you could help or lift others?"

The answer is yes, I have thought about writing a book. I have even written a few short books, during a time when there was time between calls and projects at my place of employment to write some thoughts. They were not published, just bound and shared with some work associates and friends. I felt good about writing those books. The words flowed onto the pages in a matter of days. At the time I thought I was writing more for myself, but I found out there were others who struggled with the same issues I wrote about, and were thrilled with the concepts and way of looking at things from a different view. Encouragement, hope and faith was shared and passed from one heart to another as the books went from desk to desk. In recent years I have shared the books with other friends, therapists and a sent a few anonymously to someone when requested by a loved one who cared about them. So I know the messages were inspired, not just for me, but for others as well.

I used to have another blog, which I would update occasionally, but the host I was using changed their policy and I didn't make the change quickly enough. So for a while i did not write at all. Then the online posts of someone else I care about led me back to the Internet and the desire to again share my feelings with others. So here I am, writing a few thoughts once again, letting the thoughts flow through my fingers onto the page, wondering all the while who my words could reach today.

I have been touched myself recently by the writings of others. I found myself a few times wishing I could write like they did or counting the number of people who claim to be followers of their writings. As I thought about the different ways each of them wrote, I realized, of thousands of blogs on the Internet, I was led to these particular ones not randomly, but carefully. I didn't just do a random search for these sites, I was guided to them by a friend, a sister or a new loved one in my life. I trusted their instincts and their wisdom that these other blogs were of worth or value and found I was blessed by where they led me. I found others who wrote about everyday life in a variety of styles. I was reminded that each person who chooses to write from their heart does it in their own ways. No two are like. The subjects may be similar, the experiences familiar, but each person handles it or shares it in their own way. It would be easy to start making comparisons, judging one writer better than another, or someone who shares sadness against someone who shares joy, or even comparing myself to them, wishing I could write as eloquently, boldly or powerfully as I feel they are. I could, but I choose not to. For I know I was led gently to each of these other writers for the way they would touch or inspire me. My higher sources, my Heavenly Mother and Father, and other loved ones who have gone to a higher place before me, know me well. They trust that I will not find encouragement to renew my own efforts to write.

Through the writings of others I have found permission to write freely in ways I haven't tried for many years or possibly to even try a new way to write. Instead of writing random blogs, one woman chose to write 1 or 2 chapters a week of a serial novel (www.thejellobelt.blogspot.com) Another woman doesn't feel she can write well, but is an avid reader, so she simply posts short quotes from something she has read or found. A carving I saw on my sister's site (www.karlaskarvings.com) the other day tweaked my desire to write a new series of children's stories. A trip to mormonmommyblogs.blogspot.com yesterday reminded me that a small note to a friend may be more important today than anything I could write in a blog. What about writing a daily letter to someone I love or someone I have thought about? A blog forum challenged me for 30 days to choose one word a day and write just 100 words on the thoughts it brought to mind. Another author asked why we write in our journals daily and then hide them away with the hope that someday one of our children will read them and understand why we made the choices we have in our lives when we could write the same words and share them with our children, grandchildren and others now. I share the feelings of one writer who said she could write and say 3 times as much on the computer as she can trying to hand write it into her paper journal. As I write this, in my head I hear the instructions from the pulpit to write our life and family histories and I know that I could talk about a particular time in my life and it would be so different from what my sisters would write about the same time, yet all three versions are part of our family history.

So I accept the encouragement and inspiration to write in a variety of ways. I will look for and take advantage of every opportunity I get to write and find ways that I use every style in a positive way to touch others that will be led to my words as I have been led to others.

Grandmother - In Her Own Humble Way

This last week I was privileged to attend the funeral of one of my aunts who has had a wonderful influence on my life. This lovely lady waited 12 years for her darling daughter to come to their home, and wept 21 years later when that daughter was called back to heaven. She didn't become a grandmother the way others do, but at her funeral her legacy as "mother" and "grandmother" was undeniable.

As a dear cousin shared, Aunt K, was as much mother to a few of her nieces and nephews as their own mother had been. Every one of the children of those nieces and nephews considered and honored her as their grandmother, finding ways to spend time with her in special interests and activities. I heard many of them as they paid their last respects say things such as "sleep well grandma," "love you always grandma," "So happy for you grandma," and "Grandpa will be there soon." Her precious daughter did not have the time on earth to give Aunt K the title of grandma, but those that were closest to her over the past 40 years made sure she knew they claimed the title for her anyway, for she taught them through action and love what being a grandmother was.

While some grandmothers can number their grandchildren with ease, Aunt K probably couldn't number all that called her grandmother because of the relationship of their parents to Aunt K and Uncle M, her loving sweetheart of 72 year. After the death of their precious daughter, this couple was called as the mission president of the Dublin Ireland Mission. From the comments of one of the speakers, who represented over 300 missionaries, this loving couple became mother and father to every one of those missionaries they encouraged, taught and were an example to. Each of those missionaries claimed them as mother and father and each of their children honor this couple as grandma and grandpa. Imagine from those few years of service how many children this "grandmother" touched with her example, her faith, her graciousness, her acceptance and open arms for all who came near her, and her testimony.

This lovely lady lived her life with grace and humility. She gently taught so many how to be a great kind of grandmother She taught that grandmothers are full of love, have special talents to share, give of their time, share testimonies, give encouragement, give service willingly, love company, are creative and are never too busy to love or listen. Above all, she taught how important it is to love your sweetheart, to serve him and to serve with him, to hold hands every chance you get, stand beside him in love and behind him in support, and always have a kiss ready to bestow in a gentle moment.

I don't have a companion at this time to love and support, but I hope that in every other way I can be as good an example to my own grandchildren as Aunt K was to all who loved her and called her GRANDMOTHER.

Not Alone- Reaching Out

One of my favorite songs by Micheal McLean, an LDS artist, is entitled "You're Not Alone." I have loved it for years and often remind myself to have faith by remembering the truths in this song. We are not alone. Our Father in Heaven has not left us alone and never will. We are surrounded by the proof of his love and his presence, even when we choose not to look for his love, it is there waiting and when the time is right we will see and embrace the truth of "You Are Not Alone" as we have before and will find the perfect comfort and peace we need for those moments.

I am not alone. I felt alone and overwhelmed recently. I felt afraid, confused, abandoned, betrayed by those I love and misunderstood. My feelings were in conflict- I was happy and proud of a decision made, not easily but lovingly. I had struggled with the hole I felt in my heart because of the decision and found peace. Then it seemed like the peace had been snatched away and there was no one who could understand or hear my cries. Oh was I wrong. I was never alone, When I couldn't see through the pain to feel their love, my heavenly parents sent their message through someone else, a sister they knew could reach through the pain and remind me I was not alone and remind me that peace would be found again.

I am not alone. I have a sister who knows how to listen, support, encourage and guide me back to faith and hope. The Lord knows her well, and inspires her often. He fills her with love she can give away, wisdom to share and a strong testimony to light the paths ahead. Then he puts her near those he would have her bless and she does just that with humility and love.

I am not alone. My sister reminded me that she too had recently experienced a loss of her own, and yet the loss also brought blessings and faith she hadn't expected. She reminded me that grief is a process, and it is OK to feel the emotions, all the emotions, as many times as we need to and not feel guilty about it. Her shared thoughts and comments reminded me that this is only one of many trials the Lord feels I am capable of growing through and he gives me strength to handle many situations he would not even think of giving to others. She reminded me that life goes on and that the unique talents and gifts we each have will help us through the hard times and bring joy to replace the pain. She reminded me that prayer is the key, letting our Savior know of our pains so he can soothe and heal the aches with his mercy and grace. She reminded me to remember the promises I have been given, and that my time is not the same as those who have given me the promises, so to be patient and wait, having faith the promises will be fulfilled in ways I cannot even imagine.

I am not alone, and neither are you. We have a loving Father and Mother in Heaven that know us well and love us unconditionally. They want us to find happiness, and know the ways to reach us even when we are not listening or seeking their aide. They have not sent us alone into this world, but have surrounded us with family, friends, others who have gone through similar trials and can show us a way through and a Savior to help us carry the load when it seems too heavy to bear. They have blessed us to be immersed in a world of people to lift us through the creative talents that flow from heaven to earth through music, art, spoken and written words, compassion and service. We are surrounded by teachers and examples of all ages if we can open our spiritual eyes and look around.

I am not alone. You are not alone. Everyone in this world is eternally connected. Our paths my cross once or many times here on earth. We may be near or a great distance apart physically, but our spirits, unlimited by time and space, can connect with others through love, understanding and peace. We are surrounded by gifts and proof that we are not alone, that someone cares about our happiness and joy. I pray that we can each open our eyes, our hearts, our minds and our souls to accepting this truth - reaching out to accept those around us and reaching out to touch others.

Taking the Blame- With Tears

In my last post I apologized to all those who felt I had ruined their lives by reading their blogs, sharing my support of their blog, reacting or commenting on their blog or being the cause of one blogger calling another with a question that made them uncomfortable, even though they had been excited to share their thoughts about the very thing they were asked about. I don't know if any of the ones affected have even read my apology or if it makes a difference to them, for none of them have responded in any way. What does matter is that I was willing to say I am sorry. The next step, of forgiveness is up to them.

The silence of others has given me a lot to think about. It has given me the chance to once again look at what those close to me believe about me and what they expect of me. Fair warning, this may sound like I am depressed, but I am not, at least at this moment. I am however willing to be truthful and honest about my feelings for a few minutes.

My family, and even new friends, are willing to make me the scapegoat for something that wasn't all entirely my fault. I may have played a part, but I was not the one that gave the specific information out that caused the problem. I alluded to a relationship, but did not divulge the name of the party I was protecting. The one that broke the link and gave out the name was the person's own family member who may or may nat have known better. But if they can blame me, they don't have to feel betrayed by family. It is much easier to blame a so-called stranger than someone you know and love. Besides blaming me allows them to continue their relationship with their loved one as it was before the incident. Also blaming me, others can pretend they had no part in whatever they perceived happened. I am also sure that my family members that spoke to those who think they were hurt or offended told them that everything was my fault anyway or that I would take the blame for everyone on my shoulders, for they know I will, not just the blame, but the pain that goes with it.

I guess I have taught my children well that whatever they want to say to me is OK. Whatever they want to accuse me of doing or being, or saying as they perceive it is OK, as long as they ask one important question. "Are you going to be OK?" As soon as I say, "I will be" they are off the hook. They can then say whatever they want, however they want, express their opinions however hurtful and then turn away without any other thoughts or worries. They know I will keep any comments to myself that may seem to me like they would be hurtful back., so it is safe for them, knowing they I will not hurt back. I listen but I don't fight back. I allow them the feeling of being right, even if they are so far off base it is unbelievable, rather then fight with them or try and change their thinking. Then they go back to life while I work through the pain, the tears, the feelings and find my way back out of the sorrow. They have seen me bounce back time and again, find the strength to work through the feelings and the tears, and then go on loving them unconditionally. Even my grandchildren have learned the same lesson, hurt, ask and then walk away and don't look back or care because grandma is strong and even if she is hurt won't come back to hurt you, but will keep on loving just the same as she always has.

Right now I have a lot of anger, unexpressed and kept from those I could direct it at. My anger or frustration isn't something that at this time will make a difference to the others involved anyway. Besides, expressing it to them would just be seen by them as not understanding, not accepting, not supporting, not loving or not having faith. The feelings would not recognized as what they really are : loss, abandonment, fear, helplessness, conflict with faith and testimony, confusion, or pain. I have taught my family well that it is OK for them to have anger, but not to expect it from me. Mom and grandma will just cry her way through the feelings silently. She will be angry at herself and maybe at others, but they won't have to feel any guilt or take any blame or feel any sorrow for things said or done. They can just go on pretending life is good and they are perfect in the way they handle situations and relationships.

I guess the bottom line is this, like so many times before, I will take the blame for what is not mine so others will not have to feel the pain of doing anything wrong. I will not defend myself or speak up for the truth, because they other person may not be able to handle the feelings that might result. Once again I will allow others to throw the burden of blame on my shoulders so their burden will be light because I know I am strong, but don't know where they are emotionally or mentally, and don't want to risk their happiness. Once again I will be the scapegoat, the reason for someone else's trials and tribulations so they do not have to look at themselves and take responsibility for their own actions or their own results. I will love them enough to take on all the suffering so they can experience peace, value, contentment and life as they desire. I will continue to love them unconditionally, whatever the pain or price, and may or may not ever know that love back from them. I will continue to love them, whether I hear from them or not, for that is who I am. I am their mother, their grandmother, their support or their friend. I am- ME.

Apologies and Love

I wish I could say it is funny, but right now I can't, that sometimes loving someone gets so mistaken for something else it destroys what is good and leaves sorrow and grief behind. . I just received a call that has me in tears. Tears due to love for all those involved, even the ones that started as strangers but became special because of what they shared from their hearts. Now because of the misunderstandings and fears what was special, warm, spiritual, loving, genuine and wonderful will be wrapped up and made private. What brought comfort and joy to many will now be hidden, guarded and protected. Where love, guidance, support and encouragement might have been given and received, now there will be caution and regret and heartache. Blogs that were openly shared because of the excitement of sharing life, love and daily joys or sorrows will no longer be available except to a select few. I may never again share in the happiness and joys of some people I dearly love.

Why all of this? Because someone shared a blog with me they thought I would enjoy, which I did. On that blog they shared some others they were following. There were two that I found especially entertaining, informative and enjoyable. During the Christmas holidays the mother at one of the sites shared how much she enjoyed doing crafts with her children. and the kinds of simple crafts she was doing with them. Her enthusiasm and how much her children were enjoying making their pictures and such, reminded me that even the simplest crafts for the youngest hands are just as precious as any grand gift and that there is no limit to age when creativity is involved. Because of her sharing I took the time over the holidays to let my grandson do a few Christmas crafts in an effort to entertain him. Thanks to an idea from this young mother, I helped my grandson make a Christmas tree, make a Christmas picture, paint some ornaments to take home with him, and even make what his mother called his snow blizzard picture.

Another layer deep, from the above blog, was a blog she was following. This blog was written by another young woman. The first time I read this blog, I felt drawn back to it. There was a special sweetness and spirit that I felt each time I read about her testimony and her beliefs. One day she stated that they were making their blog private so if you wanted to continue following it, please send your email. I sent my email, and wasn't sure she would respond. She of course questioned who I was or how I learned about her blog. I told her where I had encountered it, and why I had gone to that site in the first place. This young lady was kind enough to send me a link to her next post, which I was very grateful for.

Well that one request led to her contacting an old friend, who happened to be the owner of the first blog I had started from and asking.a question that made them uneasy in a number of ways. And the owner of this site contacted someone they knew and shared their fears about who this unknown person might be. The lists of previously shared blogs are now off the site, and according to the person calling me earlier, the original site shared will likely become private as well. Since the owner of the blog has no legal obligation to share the site with me, and I have been reminded that this isn't my family anyway so there is no reason for me to expect them to share their site with me, (besides they need to protect their identiy and their family from those who might harm them) I am afraid I will lose ever seeing or hearing about them again. That is why I sit here crying.


So tonight I apologize to all that feel I have ruined their lives through caring about them or are frightened because of my actions or love or appreciation of what they had to share or excitement about their joy. All of their blogs were beautiful and I will miss having them to brighten my day. I wish them all happiness and joy and still send them my love. I am sorry if they misunderstood my enthusiasm or how their sharing inspired me or challenged me to share some of my own thoughts with others. Even though I thought I was being careful to not share their identities, not mention their names, my last thoughts were too close to home, too personal to not be recognized by someone who didn't until today even know this site existed, but now does, and is just trying to be protective herself. So, what I hoped might give encouragement and love has been perceived by those who I hoped to share it with the most as intrusive, disruptive and intimidating.


So now I have to decide if this blog will continue or not. I had a blog once before, and I enjoyed writing it. I had several people who followed it and it touched their lives in a variety of positive ways. Some were family and others were strangers. The blog ended when the hosting site changed their rules and offers. It felt good then, as it does now, to share love, encouragement, hope, forgiveness, gratitude, and the knowledge that if we look for the good we can find it even in the middle of trials and sorrows. I don't think I will decide right this minute. My emotions are too high, and the tears keep coming back. As I said, love, misperceived leaves alot of feelings trailing behind that need to be felt and examined.

I pray that those who need to see this will find it and know of my love for them.

3 Month Memories

I check on one of my favorite blog almost daily to see pictures of a little princess and how the little family is doing. Their last post was New Years Day so I was so excited to see that it had changed and there were new pictures of the princess and new thoughts shared about the mother's feelings and what is going on with her. I love this couple and thrive on knowing their ups and downs. They are so special, and the adoptive mother is right, this baby was chosen for them. It wasn't an accident they were chosen by the birth mother to be the couple to share this precious spirit with, for I know that a loving Heavenly Father brought them into the birth-mother's life because of who they are, their love for each other and their genuine love for her. Every time I read about how much the adoptive mother talks to the baby about her birth mother, I know again that this match was made with divine intervention, and I cry myself to know that this little girl will always know how much she is loved.

I am glad to know their prayers for the birth mom are continuing. The birth mother is starting a new path of education this term and needs their prayers as she studies and prepares for her future. What I know too, is that if she needs some extra support from outside her circle of family and friends, her newest friends will be there for her. On her blog the adoptive mother shared a blog by another birth mother. I read the blog and thought about how different the experiences of these birth mothers are. From the blog I got the feeling that that mother felt alone and excluded, while the birth mother I support has a circle that surrounds her tightly. I am sure that they both share the feelings of loss and wish they could hold their child everyday, but it helps to know that the adoptive mother is honoring the birth mother in everything she does and to be assured your child, even though a distance from you, will always know how loved and cherished she is and that her mother did give her away but gave someone else a gift of love from the center of her heart.



Anyway the little princess is growing everyday. The adoptive mother talked about doing Tummy Time and what the baby likes and doesn't like about being on her tummy. I, of course thought about my grandchildren when they were that age.

Memories once they start don't just stop with a few good warm feelings. Once the memories start to roll, both the good and the bad come flooding out and you have to sort through to find the ones you want to look at closely. Mixed with the memories of babies lying in their car seats at my feet as I fix dinner, cooing and laughing, are the memories of late nights not knowing when the baby was going to be home. Mixed with the memories of babies slumbering in their beds are the memories of them lying crying alone because his/her parents were asleep. Along with the normal smells of baby powder, lotion and clean washed hair are the smells of drugs and smoke that choked me with their strength. Happy hours of just rocking a baby in a chair or cuddling close are interrupted by that same child being yanked out of my arms in anger. Quiet Tummy Time with these babies is what I choose to remember over the fighting of the parents as they stood over them. I prefer to remember the times of seeing them playing gleefully with their toys over the times I would arrive to check on them and find them crying and alone.

Isn't it wonderful that life gives us memories? Some we look at and say, "I am so glad I made it through." Even though they may be painful to look at, we chose to keep them as memories because they are proof of our strength, our ability to face trials and solve problems and grow through struggles and challenges. Other memories we review and keep because they bring back the laughter and joy we sometimes forget we had or do not always take the time to look for in our busy lives right now. Those memories remind us to lighten up and enjoy life while it happens, for the moments with children as they grow are many but short, never lasting as long as we wish, but always bringing a smile.

So as I think about years ago and the babies of that day, I will choose to embrace the memories of love, laughter, joy, fun, peace, and calm of those days and hold onto some of those feelings to carry me through all the current todays of the week. As I think about the babies of today and reflect on the ones of my past I will notice the similarities, hold tight to the love that comes flooding back, remember to laugh at the simplicity and miracle of life in whatever stage of life I am in. I will watch with eagerness as new mothers and fathers share their observations of parenthood and boast about their little princess or prince. I will remember to smile and find my own miracle moments to make new memories with.

Moment by Moment

This morning I want to thank my higher source for my ability at times to simply move from moment to moment without thought. I have learned in my home to take life moment by moment for I never know what the next moment will bring. I have to trust myself that all the parenting, spiritual and natural abilities will come into play without having to stop and ask myself what tools or lessons I am going to use, for seldom is there time to ponder on what to do.
It is probably a cliche' but a true one that sometimes one day is longer than another. I know in reality each day has the same number of minutes, but one day seems to move so quickly, time flies and moments blend together in rhythm and balance. Then there are days that seem to last forever or seem will never end, filled with moments of crisis, decisions, teaching, patience, forgiveness, guidance and responsibility. Why do days seem so different? The difference is in how I move from moment to moment, how I use the moments as they come along and who those moments are spent with.
Moments and minutes are not always the same. Every day has exactly 1,440 minutes to use. However every day does not have the same number of moments for a moment is not measured by time. A moment doesn't just pass, it occurs. A moment requires you to be present in some way for it to be. A moment can last from a few seconds to minutes, for it is the experiences or happening that defines it, not the time it lasts.
I feel blessed that the other evening I was able to move from moment to moment for most of the night with patience and faith in myself that whatever I did or said would be right in that moment There were a few moments, like when I allowed frustration and anger to appear in myself that I questioned whether I would handle the next moment correctly, but I realize that the frustration was what allowed me the strength to be firm in the next moment of confrontration and the anger gave me the desire to stand up for others in the following moment. I had to move from moment to moment without planning for between Cathy, Alex and Antonio there was to no time to think between the demands and experiences of the moments. What someone chose in one moment affected others in the next or required my presence in some way. One moment I had to decide how to deal with a 15 year old boy throwing a destructive temper tantrum and then comfort the hurt adult who is only trying to love this boy in-spite of the abuse she receives because of her efforts. One moment I needed to be firm and set a limit with an oppositional teen and the next I had to be silent as he packed to run away from home because he didn't think he should be asked to do what he was. As he stormed out the door, the moment was filled with questions and worries from those who loved him and I had to call on faith and hope, then the next moment decide which of two options would be the best use of my time, but before I could finish the project chosen, the boy returned and I my moment was filled with tears, anger and his words of despair and failure. Then on to create a new moment of caring and tenderness, filled with understanding of his pain, while showing him he could look at the same instances that were causing him pain and find the love and support that has always surrounded him. His life may not be what he would like it to be, but it so much better than he could ever have dreamt it to be. The difference is in how he chooses to look at the momement or what he chooses to focus on from the moments of his life. Then I got to move from the moments of understanding and connection to a moment of power struggle and then on to a moment of truce and then to moments of sharing things totally unrelated to the events of the earlier evening. Later moments flowed from moments of explanation to moments of request and on to to final moments of a 10 year olds day as she shared how much she loved her brother, but sometimes she had different feeleings, and how bad she felt when she had those moments of thought.
Moments moving are all too often not appreciated or recognized. I sometimes get so busy looking for an answer to my prayers of knowing how to handle or change something that I don't see my prayer is already being answered in how I am blessed in simply following inspiration, staying or creating peace and harmony amidst chaos, confusion and anger. Like others I am looking for a miracle to occur when what I really need is already being given to me moment by moment without my being aware I am being given the miracles in experiencing peace, patience, understanding, gratitude, forgiveness, strength, tolerance, love and countless more gifts and abilities.
Again, I express gratitude today for the moments of my life. I may not appreciate them all as they happen, but I know I am given them as a gift. How I choose to look at the moments as good or bad is up to me, for they have happened and continue to be given freely to use. I acknowledge that I receive far more than I am ever aware of or could express.

Makeup Mess or War Paint

I have said being a grandmother is never boring, especially if you have a 2 year old whirlwind that spends most nights at grandma's house while his mother works the night shift. This particular whirlwind, Devan, helped grandma start her day with a laugh and a reminder of the difference a few seconds can make in life.
I was just finishing up with my blog post when he woke up. He was kind enough to turn on my light for me, and sat down next to me on the bed to see what I was doing. I handed him my granddaughters "Little Foot" dinosaur to play with. I saw him bend over and open one of the drawefs in the nightstand on that side of the bed, but told him to not touch, and didn't think he had. I laughed at him when he picked up the big makeup brush and started tickling the nose and tummy of the stuffed animal he held. I don't recall hearing him unzip my makeup bag, but the next thing I knew I heard him say cute, and he handed me my open lipstick. I took it from him, put the lid on, and asked him where the bag was and told him not to play in it. He then handed me the bag and the open brush to my mascara. I took it from him without even looking at him and started picking up the rest of the makeup he dumped on the bed as he handed me the bag. He handed me the compact and mirror and said "Cutte, Mandma, Cute." When I looked at the mirror to see cute I saw a two year old face covered with streaks of lipstick and mascara, with hands to match. It was one of those moments when you don't know whether to start scolding about how bad he was, or to laugh at how silly he looked, or to cry because you have a horrible mess to clean up, or worry about what his mother is going to do or say if she sees him like this. Because I had just been writing about the calling of being a grandmother I chose to laugh first. He really was a sight. After reclaiming all my makeup and making him sit still on the bed for a minute, I tried to take a picture of him before we tried to clean him up. All six sets of batteries I had recently put in the camera case were dead. (Another of my grandsons frequently takes batteries out of other people's equipment, uses them until they are dead, and then puts them back in the original equipment. He thinks he is being smart and the other person will think they left something on or forgot when they last replaced the batteries.) So we couldn't get a picture even though we tried. So we got up and I took him into the bathroom to try and clean him up. Now we learned how lasting my all day lipstick was. Regular bar soap removed the mascara, but not the lipstick. Dishwasher detergent didn't make a difference, and neither did household cleaner. Since we couldn't remove anything, we decided to eat some breakfast while we waited for his mother to return to see if she had any suggestions. After breakfast, since he looked like an indian with war paint anyway, we pretended we were going on an indian hunt with our bows and arrows to find animals in the woods to take home to our teepee.
His mother finally came home. Luckily she understood that he was a curious 2 year old. Of course she too tried to find out what would remove the red streaks. She tried some face cleanser without much luck, then she tried some toner which helped a little more, but still only lightened the marks. What finally worked was to scrub hard with a cotton ball soaked in fingernail polish remover. He cried and fought saying that it hurt, but she was able to get all but a few streaks removed.
Now I would like to say that he learned to stay out of grandma's makeup, but I can't. He climbed up on my bed this morning and immediately reached down and opened the makeup drawer and started to get the makeup out. He took out the bag pulled out the eyeshadow and started smearing it on his face saying "cute." Luckily today it was something easy to wash off.
He was sad because he wanted to be cute. He wanted to be indian. So I got to play with him and show him we could play indian hunt even if he wasn't "cute" with my makeup on.

The Grandma Calling

I saw the cutest picture today of a little baby on the internet . She was wearing a cute little shirt that read : "What Santa doesn't bring me Grandma will." I couldn't help but laugh, for I know how true those words are. Giving her everything of value is part of the Grandma Calling. As a grandmother myself I can speak from knowledge and experience.

Being a Grandmother is a calling. It is a calling that is earned through patience, years of preparation and experiences too numerous to count. Being a grandmother means you have the opportunity to teach and share gifts only you can give. These gifts are not always physical, but are always given with love and a desire to make sure her grandchild has everything he or she could ever dream of. The gifts may come silently and unexpected, or wrapped in pretty papers on special occations. The gifts will be given before anyone even asks for them, for inspiration is a key part of the blessing of receiving the calling of Grandmother.

Each grandmother has gifts only she can give in her own way. One grandmother may have a talent and love for music, and will give instruments, music, songs, recordings, and teach her grandchildren to enjoy all kinds of music and love harmony, not just in music but to look for the harmony and music in life and experiences. Another grandmother may have a gift of humor, She may teach her grandchildren to look for the laughter in life, the funny side of experiences or that life is a fun experience with a few side stops here and there to find sorrow, pain or results of choices for a short time. Another grandmother may have the gift of work and will teach how to serve with a gladness of heart and charity and concern for other. She may teach that work is really just a word that means doing your best at whatever you are doing using all your skills and abilities. Another may give the gift of words through books, stories, poems, educational experiences or letters. Another grandmother's calling may be teaching patience, forgiveness, humility and unconditional love. She may do this through example, support, tolerance and faith. Yet another grandmother may share her creative talents. She may teach not just the art of making something but the principle that everyone is a creator in some way, how pieces work together to make something that never existed before but gives pleasure once it is complete. She may teach a freedom of expression through the use of paper, brushes, colors, glitter and glue. Another grandmother may choose to fulfill her calling not by giving gifts directly to her grandchild, but supporting, enmpowering or encouraging the parents in ways that will affect their entire family. It might be the power of prayer, the sharing of a testimony, or experiences. It could be giving the parents knowledge of how to make it through each stage of their child's life with sanity, balance and peace. This grandmother may remind the parents to enjoy every momemt, for even though it may seem impossible to endure, she knows how soon the moments will flee and memories will be the thing they will treasure for many more years to come.

It does not matter the age, circumstances, location or reasons a woman receives the calling of Grandmother. Once accepted the calling is for her lifetime. Once received, the calling will bring a lifetime of new experience, new joys and happiness beyond belief and a new capacity to love and and endless supply of love returned. A grandmother will hold her title with pride. She will strive to honor all others called by the same name by being the best, most generous grandmother she can be, everyday in everyway.