October in Paradise

In October we were lucky enough to spend a week on the beautiful island of Kaua'i.  We were able to take Heidi and Ethan with us, and I am so glad that we did!  The memories that we made on this trip will last a lifetime.

Our first day on Kaua'i. We were scouting out beaches before we could check into our condo. After six hours on the plane, all I wanted to do was get in the water, but I didn't want to change into my suit in the car! Ethan didn't mind changing in the car, though! This is lovely Lydgate Beach.

Some coral at Lydgate Beach.

Lydgate Beach

Gorgeous waves at Tunnels Beach. There were a couple huge sea lions sunbathing on the beach!

Beautiful plantation.

Ono Shave Ice in Kapa'a. The rest of the trip, Ethan begged us to go back and get some more. I always thought it was funny how everywhere you went, it was called "Shave Ice," rather than "Shaved Ice."

On board the Blue Dolphin catamaran to see the Na Pali Coast and the forbidden island Ni'ihau.

I love cruising!

Some spinner dolphins joined us on our cruise!

Na Pali Coast

One of the hidden beaches on the Na Pali coast. Several movies have been filmed here, including Johnny Depp's Pirates of the Caribbean.

One of my favorite images from this trip!

The "Keyhole" on the forbidden island Ni'ihau. Our cruise took us out to snorkel by the island.

Ethan was a snorkeling pro by the time we left Kaua'i!

Beautiful Anini Beach! We swam with several sea turtles here.

This was day 5. I think we wore her out...

Kilauea Lighthouse. It was closed for most of our trip, due to the government shutdown.

I think that Kaua'i had to be the birthplace of the joke starting "Why did the chicken cross the road...?" They are literally EVERYWHERE! We saw more chickens than fish on this island. Ethan had a good time chasing them all week.

Some cool seeds from a tree at the Spouting Horn Beach Park. They looked like flowers.

Spouting Horn Beach Park. There was a fisherman down there with five huge fishing rods.

Our view from the Kalalau Lookout. We should be able to see the Na Pali coastline from here, but alas....We waited for over an hour for the cloud cover to disperse but it never did. It was a good 20 degrees cooler here than on the coast!

Another lookout from the top of the mountain. Pu'uokila Lookout, also under cloud cover.

Gorgeous view at Waimea Canyon Lookout. I got car sick from the drive up to here, but it was well worth it!

My gorgeous girl's photo shoot at Kalpaki Beach.

What a romantic week with my Honey!

Playing at Kalpaki Beach.

My island boy at Kalpaki Beach, across the street from our condo.

Wailua Falls, famous for the intro scene to the TV show "Fantasy Island."

At Smith Family Garden Lu'au.

Ethan was impressed with this stalk growing out of the coconut. I don't think he realizes how a seed works....

I think the smiles here say it all...this was one amazing trip!

Sunrise

Brian & Carol Anderson

It was an emotional day for everyone at church today.

A member of our Ward, longtime friend and home teacher of ours, passed away on Monday after a long struggle with leukemia.  After years of chemotherapy treatments, which his body seemed resistant to, his last resort was a bone marrow transplant this spring.  He suffered through the trauma and illness, and even seemed to be reacting well to the transplant, when suddenly things took a downhill turn.  He started to react to one of his anti-rejection drugs and never fully recovered.

I have been amazed to watch him and his wife Carol go through this entire ordeal.  They were always positive and upbeat, choosing to put their faith in God, and trusting in his guidance and protection.

During one of Brian's home teaching visits with our family, he laughed about a situation that had just come up with an onsight therapist.  Cancer patients are encouraged to attend some therapy sessions, to help them through feelings of grief, frustration, and fear associated with such a terrible disease.  He told us about how he had explained to her his resounding feeling of peace.  He was already at terms with the possibility of death, and nothing he knew about death scared him.  He was ready for whatever was in store, whether it be living twenty more years on earth, or returning to his Father in Heaven.  He laughed when he told us her reaction.  She said, "Brian, I don't think you need me. I probably should be listening to YOU."

Brian was the epitome of enduring to the end.

As I listened to many members of our Ward family bear testimony today of the peace and reassurance which we can receive from the Savior and his Atonement, I was reminded so clearly, with a flood of emotions when we lost Eric's dad.  It is so difficult to watch someone you love suffer for so long.  I remember pleading with my Father in Heaven to please release him from such a burden.  In my heart, I was hoping that release would come through a miraculous recovery, but our prayers were answered in a different way.

The challenge of aligning our will with God's, and trusting in His love, is probably one of life's most difficult.  I fight this challenge every day, as I watch my beautiful daughter struggle to make her way down the stairs, or trip because her balance is not quite right, or struggle with picking up small pieces of cereal because her dexterity is not that intricate.  I mourn for the life she could have had, for the experiences she will miss, the children she will never have.  But then I look into her eyes and hear her musical laugh and I know that she is happy.  She is happy with who she is and what God has given her.  He loves her and has blessed her in so many ways.

I have learned from watching my father-in-law, watching Brian, and watching Elise, that not only are miracles possible, but they do happen.  I have learned that you can face your challenges and adversity with faith and optimism.  I have also learned that you can accept the outcome of circumstances with peace and contentment.  Aligning our will with God gives us the reassurance of His matchless love for His children.  That He loves us and only wants our happiness.

On Tuesday morning, as I was driving to work, I was thinking about Brian's life and his example to me.  As I rounded the corner to get onto the freeway I got a good view of the sky.  It was one of the most glorious sunrises that I have ever seen, full of rich oranges and pinks.  Seeing it flooded me with warmth.  I felt sure that it was God's way of reminding each of us of His presence and His love.  

Brian was definitely smiling down on his family that morning.

Writers

For as long as I can remember, I have always wanted to be a writer.

It wasn't enough to just write.  I wanted to earn the title of WRITER.

In the sixth grade, my English teacher must have seen a hidden yearning within me, because she gave me an individual assignment, separate from the rest of the class.  I was to write a "book," and at the end of the assignment period I would read it to my class.

I was both exhilarated and terrified.

At that time, I was a very shy girl.  It was difficult for me to raise my hand to answer any questions in class, let alone read an entire piece aloud.  I was proud to be so singled out.  While I was given permission to sit quietly in a separate room to work on my creation every day, the rest of the class worked on English assignments.  However, it was a lot of pressure to be so singled out.  I felt that everyone would be looking to me, thinking that I was showing off, and torment me even more than they already did.

I wrote a story about a girl who travels through time, having adventures with a new friend named Zack.  I was terribly embarrassed to read the passages out loud which showed the awakening within a girl when she discovers boys for the first time, and I know that I blushed profusely when the two held hands.  But I also remember how it felt to share something that came from within me, something that didn't exist before I put pen to paper, something that was a part of me.

It was wonderful.

I went through countless spiral notebooks throughout the next several years, filling them with stories, poems, and even songs.  My sophomore year of high school, I attempted to write another "book."  This one was about a girl who is mistaken for another girl, living in a mysterious castle.  She must choose between two different men, the stalwart and brave one, or the mysterious and dark one.  Which one is deceiving her, and which is the true hero?  I would tease my friends with the story, a chapter at a time.  They would beg me to finish the next installment.

I was in heaven!  They all told me that I was going to be a writer someday.  I believed them.

Then, I embarked on the new and exciting adventure of college, and the practical need to provide for a family became a top priority,  My beloved literature classes were replaced with science and biology, anatomy and physiology.  Instead of reading for pleasure, my time was consumed with studying from ten pound text books.  Instead of experimenting with alliteration and prose, I was engrossed in research papers and statistical charts.

It took two years after I graduated from college before I actually picked up a novel to read for pleasure.  As I began to pour over the crinkly yellow pages, it was like something awakened within me again.  I began to devour books, trying to catch up on the years that I had devoted to studying for my degree.

I tried to form a book club.  I was living in Boise, Idaho at the time, and craved the social interaction associated with a club, and also the intellectual stimulation which comes from literary dissection.  A few people came a few times.  It was a disappointing venture.

We moved to Meridian, Idaho.  I tried to form another book club.  No one was interested.  When asked, everyone would respond, "I don't have time to read."  I would think to myself, "Neither do I, but now I have learned to MAKE time."

Finally, after moving to Everett, Washington, I made my most recent attempt at forming a book club.  I felt all alone in the area.  We had no family close by and I needed to feel connected to where we lived.

Once again, I was the shy new girl, but I asked everyone that I met if they would like to be in a book club, started by me.  Everyone wanted to join!

That was seven years ago.  Our book club has been going strong ever since.  It has been one of the most fulfilling things that I have ever been a part of.  And even though people come in and out, moving across the country or even just in the city ten minutes away,I have formed a connection with them that I never dreamed was possible.  Sometimes our discussions are deep, sometimes they are just frivolous fun, but they give me the fuel that I need to continue to motivate myself to accomplish all those things that I want to achieve.

It was this amazing success with a book club, and the subsequent pouring over hundreds of books, good and bad, which reminded me of my original dream, that of being a writer.

As a test, I started a blog.  It was scary at first.  I was completely out of practice.  My writing was halting and laborious.  I struggled over every sentence, every phrase, every idea.  But gradually the words began to flow again.  I began to discover my voice.

This voice is different.  This voice is no longer eleven years old, pining to experience life and everything it has to offer.  This voice has already experienced heartbreak, extreme joy, and everything in between.  This voice can share the richness of dreams already attained, and hopes of new experiences yet to come.  This voice has the understanding of ultimate sorrow mixed with the solace of gratitude and humor.

This voice is mine.

Relaxing at our Writer's Retreat in September 2013.

A year ago I was invited by a friend to join a writing group.  Six ladies with the giant dream of honing our skills as writers and creating something special.  I jumped on the chance!  Each one of us have completely different voices, yet all have the same dream.  We meet once a month, sharing things which we are working on and giving general encouragement and advice.  It is a safe place to share and learn.  I look forward to our meetings every month.

We recently started a blog, which includes serial stories, written by us in sequence.  We start with a prompt, and each of us begins a story.  We pass that beginning on to the next person, who adds a section to the story, then passes it on to the next.  It has been a fun project, and a wonderful exercise in brainstorming new and interesting ideas, matching voices, and creating memorable characters.

I invite each of you to check out our new blog.  Please follow us daily, as a new section of the week-long story is added every morning.  We are so excited to share our stories and hopefully instill in you a new desire to create something of value.

I find that my journey as a writer is still evolving.  As I continue to develop my voice, I am also discovering what is inside of me. I may have substituted a laptop for my spiral bound notebook, but the end result is the same.

What leaves my fingertips is my heart.

Prepared

At my church, the children of the congregation are part of an organization called the Primary.  They have many teachers and leaders, and are taught principles of the gospel through lessons, group activities, and music.

Last Sunday I was checking with our Ward's Primary Presidency about when we were scheduled to perform our annual Primary Program.  I am currently playing the piano as accompanist for the Primary, and was concerned if the date of the performance was while we are scheduled to be on vacation in Hawaii in October.

Luckily, the dates were not an issue.

Heidi Barker, from the presidency, teased me that I wasn't getting out of playing for the program that easily....Then she told me that I had to bring her back some chocolate-covered macadamia nuts.

I think I just got out of it, but it wasn't easy.

After church I had an appointment to meet with the leader of our regional area, our Stake President Porterfield.  He came to our house for the interview.

I was on pins and needles.  There are not very many times that a Stake President comes into your home to meet specifically with you.  There are actually only a handful of reasons that he would do so.  I was listing those reasons in my head and starting to panic, stewing over it the entire weekend.  Finally the suspense was resolved and President Porterfield got to the point of his visit.

He extended a new calling (or responsibility specific to the church) to me, and asked me to be the new Stake Primary President.

I was in shock.

There are eight separate Primaries in our Stake, each with its own presidency which oversees the week-to-week needs of their children.  The Stake Primary Presidency acts as a support for the Ward presidencies, training them and helping them with any difficulties they encounter.  They also assist with other functions of the Stake in relation to the children.  It is a big job, and will involve visiting the other Wards' Primaries frequently.

I struggled through this week, unable to discuss my new calling with anyone from my Stake, and given the responsibility to choose two counselors, to complete our presidency before our Stake Conference held this weekend.

I was bombarded with feelings of inadequacy. 

I remembered very clearly how I felt when President Porterfield told me, leaning in close with an intensity in his eyes, saying, "I believe very strongly that you are meant to be the Stake Primary President at this time."

In my head I asked, "WHY?!" 

Why me, when there are so many other women much more qualified than I am to fulfill this calling?

I relayed my feelings of fear and inadequacy to Eric, while he was still in Las Vegas for work. He texted me back, saying, "Don't let negative thoughts enter into your mind. The last year and a half have been preparation for you. You have a lot to offer."

On Friday I went to the temple, seeking the peace and comfort which comes in the house of the Lord.  As I was waiting for my session to begin, I read from the Book of Mormon. I opened to the book of Ether and read the account of the brother of Jared preparing to cross the sea with his eight barges.

In chapter 2:25 it reads: "And behold, I prepare you against these things; for ye cannot cross this great deep save I prepare you against the waves of the sea, and the winds which have gone forth, and the floods which shall come...."

Then in chapter 3:14 it continues: "Behold, I am he who was prepared from the foundation of the world to redeem my people. Behold, I am Jesus Christ. I am the Father and the Son. In me shall all mankind have life, and that eternally, even they who shall believe on my name; and they shall become my sons and my daughters."

I was struck with the use of the word prepared. Once I got home I looked up the definition of prepare in the dictionary.  It read:

"To make ready beforehand for some purpose..."

Even though I often do not feel adequate, and wonder if I am capable of completing this assignment, I can learn to trust the Lord.  He has prepared me for this work, because I cannot "cross this great deep" without me putting my faith in him.  And just like Jesus Christ was prepared for his glorious role on the earth, to be our Savior and Redeemer, I was also prepared for the many roles that I would carry out while upon the earth.

As I sat in reverence in President Porterfield's office this afternoon, his hands placed upon my head to set me apart as the Stake Primary President, I felt a warmth of reassurance that not only was I capable, but that I was meant to have this experience.  I knew that it would be a stretch for me, but it would be an amazing opportunity to learn and grow in the gospel, and that I wouldn't have to face the storm alone.

I am so thankful for this opportunity which I have been given to serve the children of our Stake, and feel the Savior's all-encompassing love for them.  What a blessing it will be to stand as a witness to them that he lives, and help them "believe on [his] name; and they shall become [his] sons and [his] daughters."

Soccer Mom

We can now call it Fall because the craziness of soccer season has begun!

 

This year, Ethan moved up a division, to the U16 boys team. There are only two teams in his division in the league which we play in (Northwest Christian Sports League), so they will play each other every week.  I volunteered to be the Team Mom again this year, crazy me.  I love it, though.  I love getting to watch these boys grow and develop over the season, getting more confident in their skills and stronger in their stamina.  I also love taking pictures of all the players.  Every year for the last three seasons I have put together a slide show with kickin' music, showcasing the boys and making them all look like rock stars.  The boys eat it up, and I love watching their reactions as they see themselves blown up larger than life on the screen.

 

New for this year, Erica has started her first season of soccer!  She has loved kicking the ball around and running around the field with all her new friends.  I couldn't believe that she let me put all the gear on her: the shin guards, long socks, shorts, and cleats.  My little princess, who refuses to wear anything other than a dress and pretty shoes, was so excited to play, that she let the no-skirt policy slide.  I think the sweetest part has been watching Ethan teach her a few moves.  Even before practices began, he had set up his goal and was running drills, showing her how to kick the ball into the net.  I love that boy!  I think that all the attention he gave her was the main driving force behind how excited Erica was to play!

 

On Wednesday night, Ethan's team played a special Parent vs. Boys scrimmage.  Since Eric was out of town, I got roped into playing.  I have never played a game of soccer in my life.  Sure, I've kicked a ball around a little, but never an actual game, with thirteen-year-old boys pounding down the field at you, their dangerous cleat-covered feet slipping around your unprotected shins, a look of maniacal determination in their eyes.

 

Yes, I screamed...a few times.

 

The line from "A League of Their Own," where Tom Hanks bellows to the all-girls team: "There's no crying in baseball!!!" kept ringing in my ears.

 

Despite the fact that I completely embarrassed myself with my inability to play any sort of sport whatsoever, I had a really great time.  The boys clobbered us 5-3, and Ethan scored three of their goals!  That's my boy!  He must get it from his dad....My score was: 0.

 

The highlight of the evening was rushing to my meeting scheduled at the church right after the game.  I went running into the church, sweat drenching the back of my hair enough that I could wring it out.  I wrapped myself up in a jacket to hide the stink, and pretended that I was a super cool mom, because I was playing so hard with our soccer boys.

 

Of course, super cool soccer moms probably wouldn't even break a sweat.

 

After all, there's no crying in soccer!



The Start of School and a KFC Meltdown

The kids head back to school tomorrow.

This should be the only preface I need for any mother of children ages five years and up, to understand.

I have been just a little bit stressed over the start of this new school year. Not only will my baby be starting up in Kindergarten, but my oldest child will be wrapping up her final year of high school as a Senior. There is a huge range of emotions on both ends of the spectrum.

Four different kids in four different schools, with four different buses and four different schedules. Sounds like the beginning of a Dr. Seuss book, or maybe I should say a nightmare written by Stephen King.

Yes, I am feeling a little on edge tonight. No matter how hard I try to be organized and stay on top of things, I can't seem to keep it together.

Last week Ethan was supposed to go to his Sale & Info Days at the middle school, where they pay all their fees and get their schedules and lockers. I marked my calendar, made special arrangements to leave work early in order to get him to it on time, only to discover that it had been the day before! Sorry, Ethan, that you have a lame mother.

I don't even have all their school supplies yet. What more could they need than pencils and paper? Turns out, it's a lot more! And every year I am scrambling to find the college ruled composition books and extra large glue sticks.

Tonight, after a busy day of work, running to Erica's kindergarten orientation during my lunch hour, then picking her up from soccer practice after work, I decided that I was not going to cook dinner. Instead I went to KFC and, after stopping at the music store to pick up Ethan's trumpet book for Band, brought home a big bucket of chicken strips. My kids love them. I could care either way, I just love the biscuits. Something about biscuits always reminds me of growing up and good, home-cooked comfort.

The kids were excited, pulling out all the food, while I was pouring over a text which I had received from Eric. Did I mention that he is missing out on sharing the entire nightmare experience with me this week by working in Las Vegas?! But that's another post...

I looked up at the food splayed on the table, but could not see the box of biscuits.

"Where are the biscuits?" I asked, with a surge of raw emotion threatening to erupt from me. "DID THEY FORGET THE BISCUITS?!" (Insert very scary face here.)

As a side note, you must understand that it seems like whenever I go through the drive-thru of any restaurant, they ALWAYS forget something, and I almost NEVER check the bag until I get home and it is too late.

The kids got very VERY quiet as they saw the look on my face.

Ethan opened up the bucket of chicken and there they were, four glorious blobs of fluffy dough sitting on top of the chicken. Who knows why they weren't in their normal box, but the crisis was averted.

We had a good laugh over my over-the-top reaction. I told the kids that I was just a teensy little bit stressed out. Heidi informed me that when she saw my face, she thought, "Oh no, this is going to go real bad, real fast!"

She will understand one day, when she is sending her own precious offspring into the big and scary world, and feeling like time is slipping away so much faster than it should.

I hope she has some biscuits on those days.