tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10604251124235336682024-03-05T13:58:24.738-05:00Yep, They're All Mine!Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11042655321479827880noreply@blogger.comBlogger51125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060425112423533668.post-50392458962385703172014-11-25T23:09:00.001-05:002014-11-26T22:32:55.863-05:00Have I been duped?Tap, tap, tap...Is this thing on?<br />
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I'm dusting off this old blog of mine, because I have another essay floating around in my head that needs an outlet. Maybe there are more...I don't know.<br />
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First of all, let me say that I am writing my experience only. I do not wish to negate or diminish anyone else's experiences, beliefs, doubts or concerns. I do not wish to imply that I am right, so therefore, you must be wrong. I only wish to give my perspective and my reasons for living the way I do. I recognize that I am looking through one set of lenses--one paradigm--that might be different from yours, and that is just fine. Will you try my lenses on for a minute or two and see what you see? You might understand me--just one Mormon woman--better, and maybe it will be easier to understand how others could want to believe the same things I do.<br />
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Much has been said in the media as of late about Joseph Smith, as the LDS Church has published a <a href="https://www.lds.org/topics/plural-marriage-in-kirtland-and-nauvoo?lang=eng">couple of essays</a> with historical information about his practice of plural marriage (polygamy). Some people find this information to be disturbing and faith-shaking. Others see it as proof that Joseph Smith was more than just a fraud. There has always been much sentiment surrounding Joseph Smith, implying that he was a liar, an impostor and a charlatan, who duped a bunch of people into believing some crazy stories, making them willing to sacrifice everything to follow him. It's nothing new. He himself, early in his ministry, <a href="https://www.lds.org/scriptures/pgp/js-h/1.33?lang=eng#32">claimed that an angel told him at age 17</a> that his name "should be had for good and evil among all nations, kindreds, and tongues, or that it should be both good and evil spoken of among all people." I think that's a pretty presumptuous thing for anyone to say about himself, let alone an uneducated farm kid in 1823.<br />
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In any case, when I do hear people speaking evil of Joseph Smith, sometimes I wonder if I have been duped. How could an educated, intelligent woman such as myself believe such outlandish stories as he told? In fact, I have asked myself many times if what has been presented to me from the LDS Church is the truth. There have been many times when I haven't understood fully what I was taught, and there have been times when things have not sat well with me initially. I have wondered if it has been worth it to live this religious life when it looks so very different from the lives of my friends outside the Church, and when it requires so very much of me. <br />
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Those are the times when I really take a good look what I have learned because of Joseph Smith and what he claimed to restore. Those are the times when I not only ask myself what is true, but also when I go to God Himself in prayer and ask Him. Are the things I am hearing just some good things, or are they actual truth with a capital T? If I am to believe what Joseph Smith claims to have revealed (and by extension, what the <a href="https://www.lds.org/scriptures/bofm?lang=eng">Book of Mormon</a> and the <a href="http://www.mormon.org/">Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints teach</a>), then I have been taught (or duped) to internalize the following unique doctrines, which are by no means a comprehensive list:<br />
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God is the father of every single person on this earth. He is the actual father of our spirits and creator of our bodies. I am a daughter of God, created in His image--meaning I look like Him. So are you. Well, you might actually be a son, if you are a boy, but you know what I mean. When I pray, I am talking to an actual living being. He will answer me.<br />
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Because He is our father, every single person on the earth is my actual, spiritual brother or sister, regardless of race, ethnicity or religion, or anything else that might make us different. <br />
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<a href="https://www.lds.org/scriptures/dc-testament/dc/18.10?lang=eng#9">The worth of souls--each and every soul--is great in the sight of God</a>. He loves us and knows each one of us by name. God wants to reward us as much as possible. He does not wish to punish us as much as possible. <a href="https://www.lds.org/scriptures/bofm/2-ne/2.25?lang=eng#24">God wants us to have joy</a>. <a href="https://www.lds.org/scriptures/pgp/moses/1.39?lang=eng#38">His greatest glory is to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man.</a> Every person matters to Him--even those who break His commandments or who don't believe He exists at all.<br />
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<a href="https://www.lds.org/scriptures/pgp/js-h/1.15-20?lang=eng#14">The heavens are not closed.</a><br />
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My body is a gift. It is not a curse or something to hope to escape. <a href="https://www.lds.org/scriptures/bofm/2-ne/2.22-25?lang=eng#21">Adam and Eve did not ruin the entire plan for the earth.</a> They actually helped to set the plan in motion by opening the door for choice between good and evil to be a part of our earthly existence. As a daughter of God, I have as much worth as His sons. Women are not cursed or less-than because of Eve's choice. <br />
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Not only did Jesus Christ pay the debt for our sins, <a href="https://www.lds.org/scriptures/bofm/alma/7.11-12?lang=eng#10">He also bore our griefs</a>, heartaches, sicknesses and everything we experience that is unfair or painful. His suffering in the <a href="https://www.lds.org/scriptures/dc-testament/dc/19.18?lang=eng#17">Garden of Gethsemane</a> was as much a part of our redemption as was His death on the cross. His resurrection opened the door for all of us to be resurrected--meaning our spirits and our bodies will be eternally reunited. <a href="https://www.lds.org/scriptures/bofm/2-ne/9.22?lang=eng#21">Every single last one of us</a>--good, bad or in-between.<br />
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<a href="https://www.lds.org/scriptures/bofm/2-ne/2.27?lang=eng#26">God will not force anyone to follow Him.</a> Everyone has freedom of choice. His gospel should not be forced upon anyone. God is fair and merciful, and <a href="https://www.lds.org/scriptures/dc-testament/dc/138.30?lang=eng#29">everyone</a> will have the opportunity to learn about Jesus Christ and decide whether to accept or reject Him. Those many billions of people who have lived on the earth without any knowledge of a Savior are <a href="https://www.lds.org/scriptures/dc-testament/dc/137.7-10?lang=eng#6">not automatically sent to hell</a>. People who belong to the "wrong" religion will not automatically be sent to hell. Little children who die without being baptized are <a href="https://www.lds.org/scriptures/bofm/moro/8.11-12?lang=eng#10">saved in the kingdom of God.</a> Little children don't need to be baptized at all, until they are old enough to understand, because baptism is a desired result of repentance, which requires the ability to choose and be accountable.<br />
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The Book of Mormon clarifies the Old Testament and explains how and why the House of Israel will literally be gathered in the last days. <a href="https://www.lds.org/scriptures/bofm/2-ne/29.4?lang=eng#3">Anti-Semitism has no place</a> in the gospel of Jesus Christ.<br />
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Jesus Christ's church <a href="https://www.lds.org/scriptures/bofm/3-ne/27.8?lang=eng#7">should bear His name.</a><br />
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I know exactly who I am. I know <a href="https://www.lds.org/scriptures/pgp/abr/3.23?lang=eng#22">where I came from</a>--we all lived with God before we were born. I know why I am here on earth--we are all here to be tested and tried, to use our God-given power to choose to return to Him. <a href="https://www.lds.org/scriptures/bofm/alma/40.11-14?lang=eng#10">I know what happens after we die</a>--our spirits return to God, and eventually, our spirits will reunite with our bodies forever. We will have the opportunity to <a href="https://www.lds.org/scriptures/dc-testament/dc/130.2?lang=eng#1">live with our friends and families forever.</a><br />
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The gospel of Jesus Christ has been taught <a href="https://www.lds.org/scriptures/pgp/moses/6.51-52?lang=eng#50">since the days of Adam</a>. Every Old Testament prophet testified of Christ.<br />
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I have the privilege, the right and the responsibility to <a href="https://www.lds.org/scriptures/bofm/moro/10.4,5?lang=eng#3">find out for myself</a> if these things are true. <br />
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I have tried my best to do so, time and time again. And time and time again, I have felt peace in my heart and understanding in my mind, in quiet, sure ways that I cannot deny.<br />
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If I did not believe that Joseph Smith was called to be a prophet of God, I must divest myself of all of these things. How do I go about doing that? Where am I to turn? When Jesus was teaching his disciples, and many people walked away because they didn't like what He said, <a href="https://www.lds.org/scriptures/nt/john/6.66-68?lang=eng#65">He asked the twelve</a>, "Will ye also go away? Then Simon Peter answered him, Lord, to whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life."<br />
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To whom shall I go?<br />
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So...what about Joseph Smith and this polygamy business?<br />
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What about it? He's not the only person whom God commanded to marry more than one wife. Abraham, Jacob, Moses, David, Solomon...<br />
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If you knew for sure that God asked you to do something, would you do it? Would it matter if it went against social mores? Would it matter if you really didn't want to? Would it matter if other people told you not to?<br />
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I'm still answering those questions for myself every single day. What I do know is that God has often asked His prophets and His people to do extraordinarily difficult and seemingly impossible things. The thing itself doesn't really matter. The willingness to obey does.<br />
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So Joseph Smith was commanded to marry more than one woman. I don't understand everything about it, and that's okay. I have known about it for many, many years. It was never hidden from me, and I never felt it necessary to learn all of the details, because I understood the basic doctrine behind it. What I do know is that he was a man who lived his entire life with the intent to serve God in the face of incredible hardships. He boldly lived his entire adult life alongside people who were quite literally trying to kill him and his followers because of their beliefs. <br />
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Eventually they succeeded.<br />
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But so did Joseph Smith's work--because it really was the work of Jesus Christ, Himself. If it weren't, it would've died with him, and ultimately, the fruits of Smith's labors would be very bad, and yet they are not.<br />
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What happens when I learn information that might be troubling to me? <br />
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I remember what I already know. I remember that God spoke peace to my mind and heart before, and He can do it again. I remember that I can't see everything, but God can. I remember this quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson:<br />
"All I have seen teaches me to trust the Creator for all I have not seen."<br />
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Learning truth (with a capital T) is like putting together a beautiful puzzle. Sometimes we are able to see the picture quite clearly, and it goes together easily. Other times, there are pieces that just don't seem to fit--but we are sure they came out of the same box. Instead of discarding everything we have built, we lay those pieces aside for a while until something connects--until the picture becomes clearer. One day it will.<br />
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I am grateful to know that I can ask God for peace when I don't understand. Ultimately, this peace is the very reason I happily remain a practicing member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.<br />
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So have I been duped? Nope. I know for myself, because I have asked God. And it really is worth it.<br />
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<br />Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11042655321479827880noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060425112423533668.post-55448068220149944452012-06-07T15:24:00.000-04:002012-06-07T15:24:13.498-04:00Which would you choose?Which would you choose...emotional health or physical health? For you? What about for your child?<br />
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This is the question we've been asking ourselves regarding our almost 13-YO Spicy Boy. In the past year he has gained 25 pounds, without growing taller. 9 of those pounds have come in the last 2 months while on Abilify, known to cause weight gain, but which has done a remarkable job of keeping a lid on his "brief, reactive psychoses" (yes, that's the term from the psychiatrist to describe his horrendous meltdowns). He is also on 3 other medications daily.<br />
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He also has a ridiculous obsession with food and has been known to pilfer, steal, beg, hide and cajole others into giving him food. One of our 72 hour kits is now bereft of three days' worth of Chef Boyardee. I even got a call from the assistant principal at the middle school, asking would I PLEASE put money on his lunch card? The lunch ladies can only be so kind, you know, to let him slide and get a free lunch a couple, three, four times. We really don't want him to go hungry. Okaaaay. Could I please have known after the first time?<br />
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I pack him a lunch every. single. day. There is no money on his lunch card on purpose.<br />
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Mrs. P. just said, "oh."<br />
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It is frustrating to repeatedly attempt to accurately portray to others (especially school officials) that we are doing the best we can with him, and we actually know what we're talking about most of the time. We get it. We really do. He is hard. And no, nothing is going on at home. We told you that before.<br />
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So we decided to take Abilify out of the picture this last week. The result has been awful. Glasses broken on purpose (not the first, or even the second pair to have such a fate), yelling, crying, and my favorite...being suspended today for hitting three of his favorite teachers...in the teachers' lounge...while having a special lunch with one of them...all because he was told he couldn't have candy.<br />
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So...which would you choose? <br />
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Fat and happy looks pretty good right about now. What am I supposed to do with him?<br />
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<br />Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11042655321479827880noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060425112423533668.post-34884688800787028382012-03-05T23:03:00.000-05:002012-03-05T23:03:16.839-05:00Parenting 505<span style="background-color: #f9f6ed; color: #2f393a; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'Lucida Sans', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;">"A sweet and obedient child will enroll a father or mother only in Parenting 101. If you are blessed with a child who tests your patience to the nth degree, you will be enrolled in Parenting 505. Rather than wonder what you might have done wrong in the premortal life to be so deserving, you might consider the more challenging child a blessing and opportunity to become more godlike yourself. With which child will your patience, long-suffering, and other Christlike virtues most likely be tested, developed, and refined? Could it be possible that you need this child as much as this child needs you?" Lynn G. Robbins from<a href="http://www.lds.org/general-conference/2011/04/what-manner-of-men-and-women-ought-ye-to-be?lang=eng"> this speech</a></span><br />
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Had a Parenting 505 moment today. And last night. And last week. And last month. I'm about spiced out. I told a friend today in a very different context that when I realized that the work I was doing was not my work--it was the Lord's work--I could handle it better and be more effective. It dawned on me that this parenting thing is the Lord's work, too. I need to let go of my own agenda and let Him in to handle it. He's the professor of Parenting 505 anyway...<br />
<span style="background-color: #f9f6ed; color: #2f393a; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'Lucida Sans', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f9f6ed; color: #2f393a; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'Lucida Sans', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;"><br /></span>Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11042655321479827880noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060425112423533668.post-37108062373352332102012-02-16T13:51:00.001-05:002012-02-16T13:51:50.674-05:00Do Good AnywayI have needed to hear these things all week. Thank you, <a href="http://www.homestoriesatoz.com/2012/02/how-deal-negative-comments.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+thestoriesofa2z%2FVisw+%28Home+Stories+of+A+to+Z%29">Beth</a>, for your wonderful blog post. Sometimes people are just mean, and I don't get it. The good news is that I don't have to worry about it!<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">*I found out this is not actually a quote from Mother Teresa. I would love to know who said it.</span></div>
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<br />Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11042655321479827880noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060425112423533668.post-65331097117737161182012-01-09T22:52:00.003-05:002012-01-09T23:08:01.938-05:002011 Christmas Letter<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi74i8ER6198PPnNlRM5IU_hmvEvAJnltxip7C9Ubnra0rntfEqElG5yWO2s8CVwM8fEeZOkjrulEWjUeRv3TW4UqqfPjgipu5G_g29KZijWTsp8z1VRHaA7NLOLd_ygJqkkdRJJr8bD26t/s1600/045.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi74i8ER6198PPnNlRM5IU_hmvEvAJnltxip7C9Ubnra0rntfEqElG5yWO2s8CVwM8fEeZOkjrulEWjUeRv3TW4UqqfPjgipu5G_g29KZijWTsp8z1VRHaA7NLOLd_ygJqkkdRJJr8bD26t/s400/045.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695850234280563362" /></a><br /><br />A little late, but here's the latest installment of the silliness that is our Christmas letter. Yes, I am aware that I copied <a href="http://yepallmine.blogspot.com/2010/04/if-you-give-mom-cookie.html">my own copy</a>...I am also aware that we were not the first to fashion this pic. It was just too perfect to pass up.<br /><br /><br />If you give the [insert family name here] a Christmas card, they’ll want a letter to go with it. Seeing the Christmas letter will remind them that they should write one also, in the silliest way possible, mentioning the Jewkes family along the way (since 2003!). Cheryl will sit down to write the letter and nothing silly will come to mind. So she’ll look for some mojo. She’ll sift through this year’s Facebook statuses, where all important moments are recorded, which will reveal how unintentionally funny A is, which will remind Cheryl of her mom. <br /> <br />Thinking of her mom will remind her of the trip everyone took to California this summer to spend time with Grandma and Grandpa and assorted aunts, uncles and cousins. She’ll remind G that the Happiest Place on Earth is not the freezer aisle at Costco, but is, in fact, Disneyland. Thinking of Disneyland will remind the kids of Cheryl’s requirement (it is an actual requirement, you know) to skip down Main Street—which they did.<br /><br />Skipping will remind R of her feelings when she earned her Young Women Medallion this spring, and weaving in and out of crowds at Disneyland will remind her of learning to drive and getting her driver’s license in September. Cheryl will remember teaching R how to drive, which was always a reminder of her own mortality. She’ll want a seat belt to go with that. She’ll wonder, “Which is better…potty training or driver’s training?” Thinking of potty training will remind her how glorious it is that R #2 no longer needs diapers or a stroller, especially at Disneyland or on a rainy day in Baltimore at the museum during spring break. He’d rather tear it up on his bike, weaving back and forth and skidding to abrupt stops. But this is just an excuse to mention Disneyland again.<br /> <br />Mentioning Disneyland again will remind Cheryl of another summer vacation to the Great Smoky Mountains for G’s parents’ first family reunion and how fun it was to see so many [family name]'s in one place. Thinking of the Great Smoky Mountains will remind them of driving next to the stream close to the trail head. Seeing the stream will inspire A to say, “Wow, that river is really polluted. Wait…those are just rocks.” Poor suburban girl. Thinking of poor urban areas will remind Cheryl and G of the irony of J’s Eagle Scout project, which was to paint an entire two-bedroom apartment in Washington, DC. They’ll remember that in 1994 a pact was made that the two should never paint together for the sake of their marriage. They’ll break the pact for the day and keep the marriage intact. Phew, that was close. <br /><br />Keeping things intact will remind Cheryl of S’s inability to keep teeth in his head. Cheryl and G try to remind S that all he wants for Christmas is his two front teeth, but he’s not buying it. No one needs reminding that the tooth fairy should be fired for not showing up on time. Being on time is something Cheryl reminds R and J (every single day) as they leave to attend seminary which starts at 6:00 am. This will remind Cheryl that she will have a child in seminary every single school day until 2025. She’ll need tissues to go with those tears (uh, of joy).<br /><br />Tears are what are usually expected from A, also known as Weeping Whiskers of the Cry-Me-A-River Clan (Warrior Cats reference, if you’re not a 9 yr old girl). Thinking of warriors will remind everyone of the time when G interviewed R’s date while sharpening his machete. R is reminded that the embarrassment has only just begun. Beginning things will remind B of his new responsibility to pass the sacrament at church. He’ll take it very seriously and understand its importance. He will not, however, take seriously the orthodontist’s advice to not eat chips with his new braces. Neither will J. This could quite possibly be the only area where those two agree. <br /><br />Agreement between brothers will remind Cheryl of the sweet relationship R #2 and S have. They’ll want to play Pokemon and the Wii together. Playing Pokemon will inspire S to plaster the hallway with more than 100 hand-drawn evolutions of Pokemon characters. Thinking of characters will remind S of all those people in the Harry Potter books he has been reading this year, mostly before bed. Cheryl will remind him to turn out his light and go to sleep, which is also something she reminds R and J every day, so they can get up on time. <br /><br />When R and J get up on time, they drive to seminary in LaFawnDuh (the new-to-[family name] little truck) which reminds them of how J dressed up as Napoleon Dynamite for Halloween. And dressing up reminds them how J’s friend, Landon, dressed up on Halloween as “Brother So and So on a Sunday”, complete with iPad, suit and glasses. <br />G in a suit holding an iPad reminds Cheryl of G’s smiles as fellow church members relate how Brother So and So roped them into speaking in Sacrament Meeting. Thinking of church will remind G how important faith and prayer became when his business partner and close friend died suddenly at the end of August, leaving him the sole “vir” in charge at work. Thinking of prayer reminds G, Cheryl and all of the kids that God is always there to help us, and He wants us to have joy, which is why He sent Jesus to earth. Thinking of Jesus and joy will remind Cheryl of Christmas. She’ll need to finish her Christmas letter. And chances are, if she finishes the letter, she’ll want a Christmas card to go with it.<br /><br />Love, G, Cheryl, R (16), J (14), B (12), A (9), S (7), and R #2 (4) <br />*Please apologize to Laura Numeroff and her Mouse, Pig, and Moose for us.Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11042655321479827880noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060425112423533668.post-64772844430314123142011-11-08T10:51:00.004-05:002011-11-10T21:09:11.831-05:00Act Two<div>I don't like the<i> Lord of the Rings </i>trilogy. I don't like any fantasy for that matter, with the exception of the X-Men, which hold a special place in my heart. I know, it's silly. Just don't come running after me with pitchforks. I promise this is going somewhere.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have been a good wife and seen the entire <i>Lord of the Rings</i> trilogy, one by one, in the theater. The first one was all fine and good. I got the story line, and the characters were laid out. I could follow it just fine. But after seeing the second one, I felt like I just couldn't take it. All that death and destruction, all those names and places that sound the same but must be pronounced with great earnest--blah blah MORDOR, blah blah LEGOLAS (really? Lego-lass?), HOBBITS, blah blah. Am I right? Almost three hours of darkness and fighting with no resolution, and then it just ends.</div><div><br /></div><div>What the heck?</div><div><br /></div><div>What I didn't know, and what I had to wait a year to find out, was that the good guys really do win. The fighting wasn't for nothing. I have really no recollection of what actually happens, but I was so very glad to find out that <i>The Two Towers</i> wasn't for naught. It was a necessary part of the story arc, and without it, the heroes would not be proven heroes, and the villains would not be vanquished. It was necessary, even if I didn't like it.</div><div><br /></div><div>But what if I had walked in during the middle of <i>The Two Towers</i>, without having seen <i>The Fellowship of the Ring</i>, or even the groovy '70s animated version of <i>The Hobbit </i>(which my husband has memorized, by the way. He had the record.)? What if I never saw any resolution in <i>The Return of the King</i>? I would have felt completely gypped. </div><div><br /></div><div>We are living our own versions of <i>The Two Towers</i> here on earth. We are plunked down, smack dab in the middle of an unfair story, and sometimes it doesn't make any sense at all.</div><div><br /></div><div>Why did my friend <a href="http://katiespaperhaven.blogspot.com/">Katie Renz</a> have to battle with cancer for nearly a year and pass away yesterday morning, leaving a loving husband and three young sons?</div><div><br /></div><div>Why did my husband's business partner of eight years and friend of eleven have a heart attack and die suddenly two months ago, leaving behind a beautiful wife and six kids? </div><div><br /></div><div>Did I mention that Katie was 40 and Britt was 47?</div><div><br /></div><div>I just don't know why. </div><div><br /></div><div>I try my hardest not to ask why. It's a moot question.</div><div><br /></div><div>A better question is, "What am I supposed to learn?" or even "How am I supposed to grow?", because I do know some things <i>for sure.</i></div><div><br /></div><div><div>Life here on earth is the second act in a three-act play. We can't remember the first act, before we came to earth, but I believe we lived with God. We are His children, and before we came here, we were spirits, anxiously waiting to come to earth to get bodies, so we could gain experience, choose for ourselves, and one day return to live with God again. I believe we agreed to a few things, even though we understood they would be difficult. We just didn't know how difficult.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>Now here we are in that second act, having forgotten the first. Another kicker is that we haven't seen the third. We know that our loved ones have, who have gone before us. We may catch glimpses of the other side for ourselves or from others' experiences, but largely, we must rely on faith that everything will turn out okay. </div><div><br /></div><div>Boy, that's hard. </div><div><br /></div><div>My dad used to walk into the family room when we were watching TV and ask "So, did the good guys win yet?" Well, Dad, some of them have, but some of them haven't. Not yet. But I have faith that they will.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have to have faith that they will. God is in charge of that third act. He has it all under control, whether we see it yet or not, and we are right in the very middle of our own hero quests. I have so much more in my heart that is difficult to express, but I feel it very deeply, and it brings me so much peace, even amidst the sadness.</div><div><br /></div><div>God loves us and wants us to have <a href="http://lds.org/scriptures/bofm/2-ne/2.25?lang=eng#24">joy</a>. I know He will give us <a href="http://lds.org/scriptures/ot/isa/61.3?lang=eng#2">beauty for ashes</a> and <a href="http://lds.org/scriptures/nt/rom/8.28?lang=eng#27">everything will work out for our good</a>. <a href="http://lds.org/scriptures/dc-testament/dc/122.7?lang=eng#6">Everything</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div>I hope and pray Katie's and Britt's families can find the peace they need to carry them through. My heart is still breaking for them.</div><div><br /></div><div>I still don't like <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>, but I can appreciate it even more now. <span class="Apple-style-span">(Especially when someone with far too much time on their hands makes something like <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uzvas8lXj38">this</a>. I laughed so hard, I cried.)</span><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Additional reading:<a href="http://lds.org/general-conference/2011/10/the-songs-they-could-not-sing?lang=eng"> The Songs They Could Not Sing</a></span></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://lds.org/scriptures/bofm/alma/40.11-12?lang=eng#10">Additional resource</a></div><div><br /></div><div>To help the Renz family, check things out <a href="http://dynamicsofdavis.blogspot.com/2011/10/operation-renz.html">here.</a></div><div><br /></div><div>And I'll end with a great song:</div><div><iframe width="560" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/xyX-I-um5Kk" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div>Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11042655321479827880noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060425112423533668.post-73551967682535209722011-10-29T10:06:00.006-04:002011-10-29T12:18:35.143-04:00Pumpkin Carving<div style="text-align: left;">There are several obligatory and celebratory rituals and supp<span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-align: left; ">osedly "fun family time" jobs that I very much dislike. Making sugar cookies and egg dyeing are a couple of them. But my very most reviled holiday extravaganza has got to be pumpkin carving.</span></div><div><br /></div><div>I know, I am a horrible mother.</div><div><br /></div><div>Everything always starts out like a lovely Norman Rockwell painting--the choosing of the pumpkins, followed by a doughnut dessert. Fun. Choosing the designs for the pumpkins--also fun. This year we have Phineas, Ferb and Perry, Thomas the Tank Engine and Tinkerbell, and some silly creatures from a 14-YO's ridiculously dumb obsession, "The Regular Show". One of them looks like Swiper the Fox from Dora, which sort of makes up for it, only because it bothers the 14-YO that we say that. Score 1 for Mom and Dad.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Then the actual carving starts. It's all fine and good. We draw circles around the bottoms of the pumpkins, so they sit flat, and no one has to reach their hand into the bowels to light the candles. Most especially it is so we can do this:</div><div><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHa-b6S9-WmPQO1o13emaBu6gQF0BNTRLMokZDWZzU1itH1raYWmDCf3muVbbnFiomBL5NZfVqFK9aoXqYyhzn-H7cKrq6WG0lYSZyCrfIOXEAFASUGdeckqwcUVF2oKWBns-WqAyNBOw3/s400/008.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668922060912635666" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /><div>We cut them off, and let the gutting begin. That lasts all of 30 seconds before someone complains about how gross it is. "Keep digging" we say. Halloween fervor quickly dissipates in the face of actual hand-to-gourd guts contact.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then comes the design making. Once again we realize that we have failed. Not enough safety knives. The lines are far too thin. Every child under 14 (which now is 4 of them) is ridiculously incapable of making the actual cuts into the pumpkin, so responsibility falls to Mom or Dad. Yay for family fun activities!</div><div><br /></div><div>The children disappear one by one. What's left is a grumbling set of parents cursing the paper templates, and a 14-YO who is convinced that user error has nothing to do with Swiper's eyes falling out. "Stupid template," he says.</div><div><br /></div><div>Every. Single. Year.</div><div><br /></div><div>BUT, I realized why we do this each and every Halloween. We get to hear conversations like the following, which actually occurred this morning in our kitchen:</div><div><br /></div><div>4-YO: "Did you know that pumpkins are FRUIT?"</div><div><br /></div><div>All: "Yes, we know!"</div><div><br /></div><div>4-YO: "Because you can make pumpkin PIE, and it tastes FRUUUU-TEE."</div><div><br /></div><div>Spicy Boy: "They are gourds." [commences singing "Follow the Drinking Gourd"]</div><div><br /></div><div>14-YO: "Ugh. They always taught us that in elementary school."</div><div><br /></div><div>Spicy Boy: "It's about how they went to drink alcohol."</div><div><br /></div><div>Mom (laughing): "NO! Oh my goodness. It's about the Big Dipper, and how the runaway slaves followed it, because it points to the North Star. They wanted to go north to freedom."</div><div><br /></div><div>Spicy Boy: "Harriet Tubman got shot."</div><div><br /></div><div>Lava Girl (9-YO): "Wait. I thought she rode on the subway."</div><div><br /></div><div>Subway/Underground Railroad? Potayto/Potahto.</div><div><br /></div><div>Join us in the spring for Easter egg dyeing, when we tackle another tough subject: euthanasia. Just what is up with those kids in China, anyway?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11042655321479827880noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060425112423533668.post-90927035873232890252011-09-10T19:29:00.001-04:002011-09-10T19:30:43.432-04:00Photo Essay: Being a Dad of a Teenage Daughter<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px">This is what happens when the daughter gets picked up for a date.</div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px">Yes, the machete is real.</div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW2MTzsl7iCRH5Rp1BgrBWHVfaHf3P_XPkrrqXMW91EyRVI8TZNGEPWMSRk-wQDIx3NVSoPQ1eHe_co8VXD2SmJQUJ6ScNX8RSNK2fE7dsX3rANIuIoGsrpTwAzCXUCNe2RSs-NKH8k7Oe/s1600/046.JPG"><img border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW2MTzsl7iCRH5Rp1BgrBWHVfaHf3P_XPkrrqXMW91EyRVI8TZNGEPWMSRk-wQDIx3NVSoPQ1eHe_co8VXD2SmJQUJ6ScNX8RSNK2fE7dsX3rANIuIoGsrpTwAzCXUCNe2RSs-NKH8k7Oe/s320/046.JPG" /></a> </div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px"><br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2gfqqOkuKzv85QaeTzxCy3B08prWdJ0M_zv707ukleKYQYTPKY3Oho9sM2IinSgOJhHx0URVleMEse7q0FD0M3MhcjkrLcq68JRjVjHGNoeJ7ce-secqSzNujnhvwWOMY6MbkGrXAVi_f/s1600/047.JPG"><img border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2gfqqOkuKzv85QaeTzxCy3B08prWdJ0M_zv707ukleKYQYTPKY3Oho9sM2IinSgOJhHx0URVleMEse7q0FD0M3MhcjkrLcq68JRjVjHGNoeJ7ce-secqSzNujnhvwWOMY6MbkGrXAVi_f/s320/047.JPG" /></a> </div><br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh4uGU443zv6YEUTNDPY83wImM4T2sV3hyphenhyphenQo75GZWEDVj4ia2terEP8LweZDa3q9GpZBsYs8FT8U6jooEYaPGs4vaHgt07Ws6UdNdN_Ae58gvAKgXQMhLYHvcHqhdUmUkuvlgYQgbUvQSd/s1600/048.JPG"><img border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh4uGU443zv6YEUTNDPY83wImM4T2sV3hyphenhyphenQo75GZWEDVj4ia2terEP8LweZDa3q9GpZBsYs8FT8U6jooEYaPGs4vaHgt07Ws6UdNdN_Ae58gvAKgXQMhLYHvcHqhdUmUkuvlgYQgbUvQSd/s320/048.JPG" /></a> </div><br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKoJcXKHKaG6ShqpZ55wF37UFrrPxgu7Zl65XQQHT4aTG3H4ZwKh_13qwitMJdnYq9p8zwQ5bQy6ZsxG4_SWvxqkyLL0fRiM5G3lDmYH_lv0-4Cw3Wc9axor6PcXbdR0pScjWUB7c8rAVJ/s1600/050.JPG"><img border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKoJcXKHKaG6ShqpZ55wF37UFrrPxgu7Zl65XQQHT4aTG3H4ZwKh_13qwitMJdnYq9p8zwQ5bQy6ZsxG4_SWvxqkyLL0fRiM5G3lDmYH_lv0-4Cw3Wc9axor6PcXbdR0pScjWUB7c8rAVJ/s320/050.JPG" /></a> </div><br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_xdIJDMaVVZmq87OwqAdyx3mnLvp_NWPFKG5iLbqRbBHQw4KqC3HGhKnVkq3lSvlPwCXJE394HchN-CJq3RoIbJ2SSasmymLf2t5phl2voDGa0flm0Msa_wGzS0UTpYOQYMaq2Dv8aM7w/s1600/051.JPG"><img border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_xdIJDMaVVZmq87OwqAdyx3mnLvp_NWPFKG5iLbqRbBHQw4KqC3HGhKnVkq3lSvlPwCXJE394HchN-CJq3RoIbJ2SSasmymLf2t5phl2voDGa0flm0Msa_wGzS0UTpYOQYMaq2Dv8aM7w/s320/051.JPG" /></a> </div><br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbgVYwUSKPBbfTZ3QfgYjQr0OWmoCV-ZbEyYmtbcWfOkB8XrIgtG2qbUXYdoezJpWUHHQHMHWLkQVE-hhl7OFzqtCfXSUJnfi30T0Q5bwFh0sl5J2mPz2vCRcArzFlcFqgZJ0FSsrzwAVR/s1600/052.JPG"><img border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbgVYwUSKPBbfTZ3QfgYjQr0OWmoCV-ZbEyYmtbcWfOkB8XrIgtG2qbUXYdoezJpWUHHQHMHWLkQVE-hhl7OFzqtCfXSUJnfi30T0Q5bwFh0sl5J2mPz2vCRcArzFlcFqgZJ0FSsrzwAVR/s320/052.JPG" /></a> </div><br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHLiW505ndS8-INoz5qAqSKKqtllFOozE9yEniUGB4apUnVy2-4Fix5aRgiO17kU0C2nMWfBtzEpa-fAjS7IEMYyXBn2KnrT9EIP7sZnECfY2Bnk_Ht-joO_-fLh52QeNhnZfxS5f7UBol/s1600/053.JPG"><img border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHLiW505ndS8-INoz5qAqSKKqtllFOozE9yEniUGB4apUnVy2-4Fix5aRgiO17kU0C2nMWfBtzEpa-fAjS7IEMYyXBn2KnrT9EIP7sZnECfY2Bnk_Ht-joO_-fLh52QeNhnZfxS5f7UBol/s320/053.JPG" /></a> </div><div style="clear:both; text-align:CENTER"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div>Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11042655321479827880noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060425112423533668.post-71705539393045496922011-04-24T07:54:00.000-04:002011-04-24T07:55:58.086-04:00Easter Greetings to you all!<iframe title="YouTube video player" width="640" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/oXrOG02NMB0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11042655321479827880noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060425112423533668.post-49928683267144212622011-03-31T23:24:00.003-04:002017-03-31T14:24:12.116-04:00THAT KidI've come to realize something. My son is <i>that</i> kid.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
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You know the one.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
The kid who can't quite fit in. The kid who makes funny noises and faces on purpose. The kid who enjoys being annoying. The kid who takes things just a little bit too far--every time. The kid who never gets invited to birthday parties (Scratch that. He's actually going to one next week, thanks to a very kind boy with a very kind mom.). The kid who never gets picked to be on anyone's team, in anyone's group, or anyone's partner, for anything. The kid, much like Anthony H. in my 5th grade class, with whom NO ONE wanted to square dance. The kid that, 28 years later, everyone will remember not wanting to dance with. The kid who has forevermore ruined any teacher's (or classmate's) chances of naming his or her child with that same name, due to the haunting memories (sorry, Anthony--I just couldn't do it). The kid whose brain is a sieve when it comes to multiplication facts, but a steel trap when it comes to quoting stupid movies and inappropriate radio songs (Ke$ha and Kid Rock, you are not my friends). The kid who could be <a href="http://teachinfourth.blogspot.com/search/label/Moments%20with%20Joey">Joey</a>. The kid who gets so emotional about the tiniest of things that other kids just have to stop and stare, mouths agape in wonder. The kid who doesn't realize he is being teased or dared into doing something stupid, just for the entertainment value. The kid who will always have <i>those </i>kinds of friends, because they can simultaneously understand one another perfectly and get on each other's nerves. The kid whose <a href="http://yepallmine.blogspot.com/2010/06/hello-summer.html">signs need to be held</a> to try to prove I am a decent mother. The kid whose own older brother will not tolerate or defend. The kid whose lack of friends and social skills is written down in permanent text on his school record, making his mother cry yet again in another IEP meeting.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But...</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
He is also the kid who brings much spice and humor to our family. The kid who is the most compassionate when someone is hurt or sad. The kid who is the most contrite and sincerely apologetic. The kid who <a href="http://yepallmine.blogspot.com/2010/04/spicy-boy.html">jumped to his sister's aid</a> in her moment of crisis. The kid who hugged an elderly stranger in an elevator, just because. The kid who, in the very middle of an emotional meltdown of epic proportions, saw tears rolling down my face and stopped to ask me what was wrong (What the? Were you not just here???). The kid who plays Pokemon with his younger brother and sister and never tires of it. The kid who has movies playing constantly in his head. The kid who can imitate anything he sees. The kid who can walk into a room and know immediately who is a good guy, and who is a bad guy. The kid who makes me grateful for mornings after emotionally stormy nights, because he is so forgiving. The kid who made me a much better mother because of the struggle. The kid who will make a great adult. The kid who I know FOR SURE was supposed to come to our family. The kid who can be so attuned to the Holy Ghost and spiritual things and places that his entire demeanor changes. The kid who reminds me that the Spirit's influence is absolutely real, and so is God. The kid who is walking evidence that God knows us personally and will help us through anything.</div>
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Yin/Yang, I guess. It's the story of his (and my) life.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Yes, he is <i>that</i> kid. And for better and worse, he is mine.</div>
</div>
Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11042655321479827880noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060425112423533668.post-70897576346755922242011-01-17T21:49:00.013-05:002011-01-17T22:44:04.282-05:00Jell-O<span class="Apple-style-span">Some people say that children are like blank slates, ready for us parents to etch upon their lives the most important lessons.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Other people say that children are like sponges, soaking up everything around them as they learn about the world.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I say children are like Jell-O, and I'll tell you why.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "> </span><span class="Apple-style-span">(Pretend you see "TM" every time you see that brand name, okay?)</span></div><div><a href="http://brands.kraftfoods.com/jello/"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img src="http://brands.kraftfoods.com/jello/img/products/flavors/img-lime-gelatin-dessert.jpg" alt="Gelatin Dessert" /></span></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">(See, I picked green because I'm a Mormon. It's an inside joke.)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">One of my children is like Jell-O that refuses come out of the mold. </span><span class="Apple-style-span">Her mold is safe and secure</span><span class="Apple-style-span">. Don't mess with her mold. She'll come out when she's good and ready, alright?</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Another of my children melts into a puddle of warm Jell-O on the floor when things don't go her way. I wonder which flavor is the most dramatic...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; ">Talking to my teenage boy is like trying to nail Jell-O to the wall. </span><span class="Apple-style-span">(I borrowed that one. It's so perfect, though!)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">My youngest child is like the Jell-O that won't set up. Constantly moving, and I am constantly redirecting. Wait! He was just here! Where did he go?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">My spicy boy is like green Jell-O with shredded carrots in it. What the heck is going on inside that one, and who decided that was a good combination???</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Most of the time, getting my kids out the door on time is like pushing Jell-O up the stairs. It's just as messy and uncooperative as you are imagining.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Thankfully, I have one boy who is like Jell-O Jigglers all. the. time. Giggly and delightful, easily moldable, and doesn't mind uneven (hair)cuts. He still even lets me hold him. Everyone loves Jell-O Jigglers!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">The great thing about Jell-O is that it comes in many different varieties, and they are all sweet. Give it the right conditions and the right amount of time, and every flavor tastes great. So what if sometimes it won't come out of the mold? So what if it doesn't set up? Come on. We all know Jell-O is not supposed to be a wall decoration anyway. And the green Jell-O with carrots? I know for sure my uncle likes it.* It's all good.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; ">So are my children. Give them enough time and the right conditions, they'll turn out just fine. </span><span class="Apple-style-span">(Please?)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">*In 2000, my grandmother passed away, and afterward there was a family meal served at the church by some ladies in her congregation. It's a very Mormon thing to do. Anyway, My uncle was in front of my brother and me in the food line and he exclaimed, "Ooh, they have green salad!" My brother looked and looked, and not a single lettuce leaf was to be found. Instead there was a very lovely, green Jell-O "salad" on display. Only in Utah, folks. Only in Utah.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">One more thing...I even have a brain Jell-O mold. So, if you ever need a Halloween treat, let me know. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11042655321479827880noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060425112423533668.post-51654651431677555402011-01-10T07:57:00.003-05:002011-01-10T08:10:01.914-05:00Help for KatieSometimes life seems unfair, especially when it doesn't play by our rules. But on the flip side, these unfair times can bring out the best in all of us and show us what we're really made of.<div><br /></div><div>I am a stamper, as in, I make handmade cards with stamps and paper and all kinds of goodies. Surprisingly enough, there is a very tight-knit stamping community on the web, whom I have found to be incredibly generous and kind. I have seen such grace and generosity from people who live in all corners of the world, and whom I will probably never meet.<br /><div><br /></div><div>Today I'd like to direct your attention to Jak Heath's blog. She is having a digital stamp fundraiser for our friend and fellow stamper, Katie Renz, who was just recently diagnosed with stage 4 gastric cancer. She has 3 young children, and is far too young and vibrant herself to be going through such difficulties! You can read Katie's own words <a href="http://katiespaperhaven.blogspot.com/">here</a>. And check Jak's blog and digi stamp collection <a href="http://www.jakheath.com/2011/01/help-for-katie.html">here</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div>We can't change the whole world all at once, but we can have tremendous influence for good in our own little corners, doing something within the realm of our own abilities, one person at a time. By small and simple things, great things come to pass.</div><div><br /></div><div>We can all find some small way to help a friend.</div></div>Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11042655321479827880noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060425112423533668.post-16028938886835341262010-12-20T19:46:00.004-05:002010-12-21T20:56:09.083-05:00Christmas letter<div style="text-align: center;">May I present to you our Christmas card and letter for 2010:</div><div style="text-align: center;">Yes, we really sent this out. The card actually said, </div><div style="text-align: center;">"Feliz Navidad! From your favorite luchadores, the <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><u> </u><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; text-decoration: underline; "> </span> </span>family"</div><div style="text-align: center;">Enjoy!</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfAtY-fR3oehbhXzezGdavjDiFTaT2yJvZiSepzQYHwBa5O3mHBWNeRo3EOzTI_XonqfXobxZWQ2ErI7tGhYpc6Ugd5-gv1XOMh7uYEekiTN1jJK4g6Q9tNm5EC-46GPAnLytY9qLWYC0R/s1600/035.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfAtY-fR3oehbhXzezGdavjDiFTaT2yJvZiSepzQYHwBa5O3mHBWNeRo3EOzTI_XonqfXobxZWQ2ErI7tGhYpc6Ugd5-gv1XOMh7uYEekiTN1jJK4g6Q9tNm5EC-46GPAnLytY9qLWYC0R/s400/035.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552932210247478594" /></a><p align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span ><span style="font-style: normal"><b>Family </b></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span ><span style="font-style: normal"><b>Firsts in 2010</b></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; widows: 2; orphans: 2"> <span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt">-First year since 1995 that we are diaper-free, crib-free, sippy cup-free and nap-free. Free at last, free at last!</span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; widows: 2; orphans: 2"> <span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt">-First time since 2002 the Jewkes family was not mentioned in a Christmas letter. Wait a minute...</span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; widows: 2; orphans: 2"> <span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt">-First cruise to Mexico with Cheryl's parents and siblings.</span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; widows: 2; orphans: 2"> <span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt">-First realization that cruise ships would go bankrupt if only Mormons were on board.</span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; widows: 2; orphans: 2"> <span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt">-First time parasailing and riding on a zip line through the Mexican jungle, which wins first prize for the most fun activity in the world.</span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; widows: 2; orphans: 2"> <span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt">-First time anyone ever haggled for eight luchador masks.</span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; widows: 2; orphans: 2"> <span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt">-First time in 15 years for Cheryl to be home alone twice a week. Daughter #2 is concerned for my welfare. “What in the world will you do with yourself?”</span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; widows: 2; orphans: 2"> <span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt">-First time travel for Cheryl--a solo trip to Colorado to see college friends and to California for a really big-numbered high school reunion.</span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; widows: 2; orphans: 2"> <span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt">-First year writing a snarky mommy blog: yepallmine.blogspot.com (NOT the first time being a snarky mom).</span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; widows: 2; orphans: 2"> <span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt">-First time convincing three kids with March birthdays to go to Busch Gardens instead of having birthday parties. Last time I do that.</span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; widows: 2; orphans: 2"> <span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt">-First discovery of a new body part by #5. "Mom, did you know that 'process' means a private part? When we were doing the motions for 'Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes', Sister W said she hit herself in the process!" </span></span></span> </p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-First professional family pictures since 2002 (sans luchador masks). If you want to see what we really look like, look really carefully in the background of our Christmas card.</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; widows: 2; orphans: 2"> <span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt">-First year for Glen as HOA president (unfortunately, the preferred Vice President job was taken) and first counselor in the bishopric.</span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; widows: 2; orphans: 2"> <span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt">-First time a TV show has trumped Spongebob as the family favorite. We love Phineas and Ferb so much, all of the kids dressed up like the characters for Halloween. Yes, yes they did. “Hey, where's Perry?”</span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; widows: 2; orphans: 2"> <span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt">-First trip to Bizarro World when Glen asked Cheryl a computer question. In his defense, it was regarding Facebook.</span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; widows: 2; orphans: 2"> <span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt">-First 11-day weekend during Snowmageddon II.</span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; widows: 2; orphans: 2"> <span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt">-First time #2 said, “I think I'm ready to go back to school now.” and “Maybe we shouldn't play so many electronics today.” Which makes it the second trip to Bizarro World.</span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; widows: 2; orphans: 2"> <span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt">-First time no one had school picture retakes. Not because the pics were good, but because I just don't care anymore. How hard is it to say, “Hey kid--you have pizza sauce on your chin. Wipe the sauce and the goofy grin off your face.”???</span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; widows: 2; orphans: 2"> <span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt">-First time intercepting a friend's 3-year-old escapee, armed with cookies. He came to our home all by himself to share with “Sister Nudie”.</span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><br /></p> <table width="730" border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0"> <colgroup><col width="352"> <col width="3"> <col width="350"> </colgroup><tbody><tr valign="TOP"> <td width="352"> <p align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><b>Girl </b></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">(15, tenth grade)</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First family member to own an actual weapon since Grandpa's Red Ryder BB gun. Move over Robin Hood. She can shoot a mean arrow!</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First time standing up on water skis</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First one awake every morning</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First driver's permit (aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!)</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First time playing tennis on the high school team</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First time since age 2 she made it past 5% on the growth chart. She finally passed five feet tall!</span></span></span></span></span></p> </td> <td width="3"> <p><br /> </p> </td> <td width="350"> <p align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><b>Boy </b></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">(13, eighth grade)</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First child to grow as tall as Mom and have shoes bigger than Dad's</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First Class Scout promoted to Life Scout</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First time for Peter Brady to take up residence with us (although not the last). Sing it with me, “When it's time to change...”</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First kid in braces</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First year voluntarily singing in chorus (and secretly loving it)</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First time composing his own music (but he still hates piano)</span></span></span></span></span></p> </td> </tr> <tr valign="TOP"> <td width="352"> <p align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><b>Spicy Boy </b></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">(11, sixth grade)</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First child to stow away on a field trip he was not supposed to attend</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First child to live and tell about it, but just barely</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First eye surgery to correct crossing. We especially enjoyed the post-anesthesia delusions of grandeur—we found out he fought in WWII and personally assassinated Hitler, as well as the name of his girlfriend.</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First foray into behavioral science. “Hey, Dad... I want a Christmas for DSi. See? I just used reverse psychology on you.”</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First time in 8 years he no longer needs seizure medication!!!</span></span></span></span></span></p> </td> <td width="3"> <p></p></td><td width="350"><p align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><b>Girl</b></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal"> (8, third grade)</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First child to giggle giddily and RUN to the font at her own baptism</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First year in the Advanced Academic Center (formerly known as Gifted & Talented)</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First child to wear an actual Bump-It (“Mo-om! Phineas and Ferb are making a title sequence!”)</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First (and last) time guinea pig sitting</span></span></span></span></span></p> </td> </tr> <tr valign="TOP"> <td width="352"> <p align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><b>Boy </b></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">(6)</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First Grade</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First grader who does multiplication in his head</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First official lost tooth (not counting the one the dentist pulled last year)</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First time playing soccer</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First self-inflicted haircut... on his eyebrows</span></span></span></span></span></p> </td> <td width="3"> <p><br /> </p> </td> <td width="350"> <p align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><b>Boy</b></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal"> (3)</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First time at preschool</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First child to be the youngest at 3 years old</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First child to bow out of the “gimme five, up high, down low” routine with, “Uh, that's enough.” Who really needs it in space or in your face?</span></span></span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">-</span></span></span></span></span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">First bunk bed with an older brother</span></span></span></span></span></p> </td> </tr> </tbody></table> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><br /></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; widows: 2; orphans: 2"> <span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt">First in our lives: family, friends and the gospel. We are so grateful for all of you and wish you a Merry Christmas and a New Year full of your own firsts!</span></span></span></p> <p align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; widows: 2; orphans: 2"> <span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt">Love, the crazies</span></span></span></p> <p align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in; widows: 2; orphans: 2"><span >“</span><span ><span ><span style="font-size: 11pt"><span style="font-style: normal"><span style="font-weight: normal">Oh, there you are, Perry.”</span></span></span></span></span></p>Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11042655321479827880noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060425112423533668.post-87051113561174464712010-12-15T06:53:00.003-05:002010-12-15T06:57:25.706-05:00Teacher giftsI just read a great post about giving teacher gifts, written by a male elementary school teacher. He is pleading and imploring parents of the world to stay away from kitsch, as well as giving some really great insight into what would matter most. So if you are still trying to figure out whether that teacher mug/tie/figurine would be good, just say no.<div><br /></div><div>To read the whole post, go <a href="http://teachinfourth.blogspot.com/2010/12/so-just-what-do-you-give-that-teacher.html">here</a>.</div>Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11042655321479827880noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060425112423533668.post-24325698734968905802010-11-23T06:28:00.003-05:002010-11-23T06:32:28.481-05:00The Twelve Days of a Large Family Christmas<div>My <a href="http://bjmangelson.blogspot.com/2010/11/if-you-only-knew.html">niece</a> shared a funny video about having twins, and it got me wondering if anyone else has made one about having a large family. And through the magic of the internet, voila! Welcome to my world, everyone! (This is not my family. My kids would not behave this well for this long. And although I am not Catholic, I am a Mormon...)</div><div><br /></div><iframe width="425" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/xaD8xat6VDw?fs=1" frameborder="0"></iframe><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11042655321479827880noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060425112423533668.post-79974433871817137572010-10-26T00:18:00.003-04:002010-10-26T00:28:59.078-04:00Pontification<div>I belong to a papercrafting forum where a can of worms was opened. There were lovely things said. There were awful things said. There were some who tried to make peace, and some who refused to listen. All because of one word. Lines were drawn in the sand and accusations flew, all because some clarification was needed about a proposed project which dealt with winter holidays of all religions. The intent was inclusion and celebration, but it degenerated quickly.</div><div><br /></div><div>Here's my pontification...</div><div><br /></div><div>My parents were in charge of a church mission in Norway in the '90's. My dad spoke Norwegian pretty well, but my mom did not. They were required to travel around the entire country, speaking to congregations of all sizes. Most people in Norway under the age of 50 speak fluent English, but of course, all of the church services are in Norwegian. My dad would always give his talks in Norwegian without a problem. It would have been perfectly acceptable for my mom to speak English, but she chose a different route. She would write her talk in English, have my dad translate it to Norwegian, and she would proceed to butcher it mercilessly as best she could. </div><div><br /></div><div>The people adored her. </div><div><br /></div><div>They appreciated any and all efforts of another person (especially an American) trying to learn and speak a tongue that she really didn't need to use. She endeared herself to them immediately, and they trusted her and counted her as a friend.</div><div><br /></div><div>Contrast that situation with any number of encounters here in America where someone is less than fluent with English (which is an AWFUL language to learn!). Generally that person does not endear him or herself to any large crowds. That person is most often met with impatience and indifference, and sometimes (shamefully) hostility. It is unfair.</div><div><br /></div><div>My point is that I hope we can all be more like the Norwegians my mom encountered, who recognize that any effort to bridge the cultural gaps should be seen as a welcoming hand of friendship. My mom lost nothing in attempting to learn something about a different group of people. On the contrary, she gained the respect of hundreds of friends, who understood that her efforts were honest. When our efforts and intentions are honest and good, it shows. Let's be kind.</div><div><br /></div><div>That is all.</div>Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11042655321479827880noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060425112423533668.post-74580768781740756292010-10-10T21:21:00.003-04:002010-10-11T07:45:01.793-04:00Good things<div>Alright, I am finally coming up for air. This first month of school has had me swamped. Anywho...</div><div><br /></div>I've decided that I need to share some things I love about my kids--especially those stinky boys of mine--lest you think I'm grumpy all the time. I'm really not. I love being a mom to these crazy kids, and I love the marvelous things they do. I want to list some of them out for you, and for me, because some days...well, some days are better than others.<div><br /></div><div>In real life, my husband and I sometimes refer to the children by their birth order numbers ("<i>You</i> are Number Six!"--bonus points if you know the reference). To make it easy for you, I'll give you a cheat sheet:</div><div>#1: Overachieving Girl, 15</div><div>#2: Broad Strokes Boy, 13</div><div>#3: Spicy Boy, 11 </div><div>#4: Slightly Redheaded Girl, 8</div><div>#5: Sunshiny Yellow Boy, 6</div><div>#6: Baby Boy (who insists he's not), 3</div><div><br /></div><div>What I love, in no particular order:</div><div>#2 loves to bake. He's not a detail guy, so getting used to recipes has been quite the learning experience. He learned that accidentally adding cinnamon to chocolate cookies is actually quite good. I'm just glad the pages weren't stuck together and he didn't add beef to the dessert (bonus points if you know <i>that</i> reference!).</div><div><br /></div><div>#6 likes to do things "my byself"</div><div><br /></div><div>#3 has a great gift for reading and understanding people. He can walk into a room and immediately know who is a good guy and who's a bad guy.</div><div><br /></div><div>#1 voluntarily apologizes for hurting my feelings when she has been snarky. She also asks me how she can help or if there is anything I need. </div><div><br /></div><div>#3 is extraordinarily compassionate. Once when we were at the airport after a long flight, we shared an elevator with an elderly man and his daughter, who were from another country. #3, who was 6 or 7, walked right over to this man and out of the blue, gave him a hug. The man was so touched, and the rest of us stood there, speechless. Beautiful, I tell you.</div><div><br /></div><div>#6 loves to talk to me when we're alone in the car. Chatty, chatty chatty.</div><div><br /></div><div>#3 can imitate anything he sees. Anything. My neighbor was watching him play out the window one day when he was about 3 and she said, "I wonder if this is what Jim Carrey was like as a kid. He's going to make you a lot of money someday." He fully immerses himself in his characters.</div><div><br /></div><div>#2 has great company manners, and I often hear how wonderful he was with his friends or with other people's children.</div><div><br /></div><div>#1 is who I wished I could've been when I was her age.</div><div><br /></div><div>#2 mispronounces everything (remember, he's a broad strokes kind of kid), and I find it very funny and endearing. Ask him to pronounce Encyclopedia Britannica or Hagen Dazs sometime.</div><div><br /></div><div>#4 leaves sweet notes and cute pictures all over the house for us.</div><div><br /></div><div>#4 is sassy enough to hold her own with her brothers. She knows just the right buttons to push with #2, for sure.</div><div><br /></div><div>#1 actually cares what I think and asks for my opinion.</div><div><br /></div><div>#5 and #6 are bosom buddies. When #6 was learning to stay on his big boy bed, I asked #5 to help him be quiet and set a good example. I shut the door, but I kept hearing noise, so I opened it and asked them again to be quiet. #5 said, "But Mom, we <i>always</i> play peek-a-boo before bed!"</div><div><br /></div><div>#4 and #5 get along famously and play together so very well.</div><div><br /></div><div>#2 is always willing to help me bring in the groceries. Sometimes I even got an audible "I love you". It's usually when I have bought really good cereal.</div><div><br /></div><div>#1 still likes me. She's not embarrassed by me, and she actually likes doing things with me. Hooray!</div><div><br /></div><div>#5 orchestrated, created and manned a lemonade stand for over two hours and pulled in $9.35.</div><div><br /></div><div>#6 likes to be held like a baby when he's all wrapped up in a towel after his bath.</div><div><br /></div><div>#5 is quite the ladies' man and a shameless flirt.</div><div><br /></div><div>#1 is simply beautiful. She's drop-dead gorgeous when she puts on makeup (but she has no idea).</div><div><br /></div><div>#2 volunteered to take care of the kids when I was slammed with strep throat earlier this year. My husband was out of town, and this boy took it upon himself to make sure I went straight to bed. He fed the kids dinner and got them in bed, and he called my husband to let him know how I was doing. He has a very protective side.</div><div><br /></div><div>#2 was also the child who, as a 4-year-old, on 9/11/01, comforted me when I found out what happened at the Pentagon. My husband was there that day, and this boy gave me a big hug and wanted me to feel better. (BTW, husband was just fine. He didn't feel, see or hear anything while in the building, and although it took many hours to get home, everything was okay.)</div><div><br /></div><div>#5 has the very best laugh in the entire world.</div><div><br /></div><div>So on those days when "Good breathing, son!" is the most positive utterance I can muster, I can refer to this list and remember just how wonderful they are.</div>Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11042655321479827880noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060425112423533668.post-54765027726252798192010-09-06T21:40:00.003-04:002010-09-06T21:44:27.900-04:00What's every mom's favorite color?<div>Why, it's SCHOOL BUS YELLOW, of course!</div><div><br /></div><object style="background-image:url(http://i3.ytimg.com/vi/fwcYbo7pjto/hqdefault.jpg)" width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/fwcYbo7pjto?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/fwcYbo7pjto?fs=1&hl=en_US" width="425" height="344" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object><div><br /></div><div>School starts tomorrow. Wow, summer went fast! This is the first year in 15 that I will be alone at home. Weird. 5 are in school full-time, and my youngest is in preschool for 3 hours, twice a week. How much can I get done in that amount of time? Ready, set, go!</div>Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11042655321479827880noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060425112423533668.post-42926379752556938082010-09-05T21:42:00.003-04:002010-09-06T16:01:33.951-04:00MistakesI recently made a very big mistake. I said something inappropriate that ended up offending a large number of people, and I am just sick about it. When I said it, I didn't think it was as harmful as it turned out to be. I was trying to be funny, but unfortunately, it was at someone else's expense. Ultimately, it was determined that I am judgmental, mean and bitter, and I completely ruined a wonderful evening for a lot of people.<div><br /></div><div>Ouch.</div><div><br /></div><div>I found out about my blunder in a less than tactful way, from someone whom I considered a friend, and I felt gutted.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ouch again.</div><div><br /></div><div><div>What I am sick about is that I have fueled the insecurity of others and caused them to question themselves unnecessarily.</div></div><div><br /></div><div>For the last three days I have had a lot of time to think about my actions and words, and what they have said about me. I thought I had moved past so much gobbledeegook. I thought I had given up gossip for good. I thought I was mature. I thought that I had lived my life in such a way that others would wonder why I am so happy and feel compelled to ask me about it, giving me a chance to share what I believe. I thought I was showing that I am trying to live a Christlike life.</div><div><br /></div><div>Apparently not.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was showing that I am judgmental, mean, bitter--and catty to boot.</div><div><br /></div><div>Granted, those who know me well were not offended by my comment, and they have provided the most wonderful support and kind words of encouragement. I have amazing friends and family who can see past my imperfections and forgive me my shortcomings. Thank heavens. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have learned a few things.</div><div><br /></div><div>Everyone makes mistakes, and I have learned that they come in different forms. Sometimes they are deliberate. Sometimes not. Sometimes they are big, and sometimes they are small. Sometimes they are mistakes of omission and forgetfulness. Sometimes they are honest. Sometimes they are selfish. Sometimes they are harmless and funny, and sometimes they are terribly hurtful. I know I have fallen prey to making each and every kind of mistake on this list.</div><div><br /></div><div>I've learned not to judge someone's character by one little action. People do mean things when they are hurt.</div><div><br /></div><div>My job then is to be kind and give others the benefit of the doubt. I must not take offense so quickly. I must be more forgiving of others when they make mistakes, no matter what kind, and even if they are hurtful to me. I must give others an unimpeded path toward repentance and change, just in case they are ever inclined to do so. It doesn't mean I don't protect myself or my family, or take measures to prevent harmful influences from entering my life, and it doesn't mean that I shouldn't set boundaries and standards for proper behavior. What it means is that my heart should be wiped clean of guile and malice toward others and be filled instead with love.</div><div><br /></div><div>There is a great story in the Book of Mormon about a military captain named Moroni, who wrote a letter to his political leader named Pahoran. They were in the middle of a great and destructive war, and Moroni was very upset that he had not received the support he needed from Pahoran. He wrote a justifiably angry letter, demanding to know why the soldiers and food had not been sent. He let Pahoran know that if the needs weren't met, he would take matters into his own hands. Here's where Pahoran becomes my hero...He explains to Moroni that he had to flee his own land for his safety, because there was an uprising within his own people. And then he says this, "<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:'Times New Roman';font-size:medium;">And now, in your epistle you have <sup>a</sup><a title="D&C 101: 5; TG Reproof." mark="a" type="C" href="http://scriptures.lds.org/alma/61/alma/61/9a" style="color: rgb(64, 99, 157); ">censured</a> me, but it mattereth not; I am not angry, but do rejoice in the greatness of your heart. I, Pahoran, do not <sup>b</sup><a title="Alma 60: 36; D&C 121: 39." mark="b" type="A" href="http://scriptures.lds.org/alma/61/alma/61/9b" style="color: rgb(64, 99, 157); ">seek</a> for power, save only to retain my judgment-seat that I may preserve the rights and the liberty of my people. My soul standeth fast in that liberty in the which God hath made us <sup>c</sup><a title="John 8: 36; Gal. 5: 1; D&C 88: 86." mark="c" type="A" href="http://scriptures.lds.org/alma/61/alma/61/9c" style="color: rgb(64, 99, 157); ">free</a>." </span>In other words, he doesn't allow the misunderstanding to go any further, and he shows a greater measure of love. It's mercy at its finest. He also solves the problem directly. This story has helped me maintain perspective many, many times. (If you want to read the whole story, go <a href="http://scriptures.lds.org/alma/61">here</a>.)</div><div><br /></div><div>It is ever so important to go directly to the person who has made the mistake so it can be resolved in the most respectful way possible. Often, we have no idea we've blundered or hurt others' feelings, so it does no good to gossip or assume that the person will someday get it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lastly, I am grateful for do-overs. God has provided a way for us to do-over any mistake we've made. That's right, I said ANY mistake. He has also provided a way for us to be healed from the mistakes of others. That way is the Savior, Jesus Christ. We can lay our sins, mistakes, blunders, faux pas and shortcomings at His feet, and He will remove them and strengthen us enough to overcome them. We can also lay our pains caused from others' sins, mistakes, blunders, faux pas and shortcomings at His feet, and He will remove them from our hearts and fill in the holes to heal us. We just need to ask, and listen (and do) when He answers.</div><div><br /></div><div>I promise to keep my feet on the floor, instead of in my mouth, but if I should happen to fall on my face again, will you please forgive me? Thanks in advance.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'll end with another gem from my favorite quote lady, Marjorie Pay Hinckley:</div><div>"Be kind. Everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle."</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11042655321479827880noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060425112423533668.post-91505394022931168172010-09-01T09:10:00.006-04:002010-09-01T23:21:57.998-04:00Back to the Future 1<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOKYhjTMSL7YHUcV4gq39D2wTFOcQCX8dwnDxSH5bat4w4hN2ATR7__mxzjbzBik8P2bMLVvEdmkwLL7fFCPwUvvIMIm9l7FKbfnTht-mhQasX07-PStCJhMJcxWsfb6VpGnYPk0vo0zhS/s320/001.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512142549039509762" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Julienne, Katie, Dori, me</span></div><div><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9qiAM7TR-o6Dj-tSp92MI1v1P8WmPeumHxMNKKApBUqlUTvFEhAPu2t-S95GeSUBst3bhXNhvqgDOSQ_snGAC92jTQwS0AkzwjUIPz00ATRr-dJkmiOTSf8BAUjtXVyXomf1B9qEdErrV/s320/003.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512142816348827010" /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.crazybloggincanuck.com/">Amber</a>, Dori, me</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div>I just got home from traveling back in time. It was the loveliest trip. (Actually, according to <a href="http://yepallmine.blogspot.com/2010/06/things-i-learned-while-cruising.html">my own definition</a>, it was a vacation.) First I went to Colorado to see four college roommates, who somehow managed to settle there, independent of one another. Two of them live across the freeway from each other and didn't even know it. Then I went to my high school reunion. More on that later...<div><br /></div><div>We ate and talked and ate and talked and ate and talked some more.</div><div><br /></div><div>I wish I could describe how full my heart was (and still is) with joy at seeing these friends. They are the kind of women who, even after several years of not seeing each other, can pick up right where we left off. They are the kind of women who help me see just how much good there is in the world--the kind of women who inspire me to be a better mom, friend, wife and woman. Each of you should have at least one of these women for a neighbor. Seriously.</div><div><br /></div><div>For example: Katie has an 11-year-old daughter who has autism. Up until a couple of years ago, this beautiful girl could not speak, and she has never slept through the night. Katie also has a son who is 18 months older than her daughter, so my guess is that she hasn't had a full night's sleep since around 1996. Her daughter also had a terrible sensory reaction to food last year, and consequently got frighteningly ill. Through it all, Katie has maintained an attitude that I can only hope to attain for myself. She truly sees this child through God's eyes, and she considers it a privilege to be entrusted with one of His special children, while maintaining an appropriate level of sass and style.</div><div><br /></div><div>Julienne has lived all over the world, as her husband is in the Army Band. She is smart, strong and beautiful (yes, she really does look like Buttercup in <i>The Princess Bride</i>), and has a crazy trivia memory like mine. Who else can remember all of my siblings' names in order (7 of us), as well as the parents of a kid I went to high school with--Izzy and Pinky Lifshitz? (yes, really) We have been fortunate to have lived close to each other a few times in our married lives, and I count her as one of my closest friends. She recently got a roundabout shout-out on <a href="http://blog.cjanerun.com/2010/08/anniversary.html">cjane's blog</a> and didn't even know it. </div><div><br /></div><div>Amber is wild and crazy and so much fun. She writes <a href="http://www.crazybloggincanuck.com/">her own blog</a> and a few years ago started <a href="http://www.milehighmamas.com/">Mile High Mama's</a>--a mom's interactive resource section in the Denver Post. She, too, has traveled the world, mostly living by Murphy's Law. Her husband is attempting to grow a real-life Great Pumpkin. In 1993, when I called her to tell her I was engaged, I said, "Guess what I'm doing?" She answered with, "Watching 90210?" It was Wednesday night, after all.</div><div><br /></div><div>Dori is the kind of person everyone should have in her life. She is smart, funny, stylish, beautiful, kind, silly, generous, and every other superlative you can imagine. She was my very first college roommate, and I couldn't have asked for better. She is someone who would rearrange everything in her life to help me, and I would do the same for her. She married a great guy who makes her laugh every day. The only downside is that she is not my next door neighbor. Darnit.</div><div><br /></div><div>See? I told you. I love these women because they knew me in what I call my Past Life (before children), when I was allowed to be silly, and each of them has been critical to my growth as a person. My heart was full to bursting, spending time with these amazing friends. The Lord really does wonderful things with His women. Thank you, my friends. I sure do love you.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">P.S. Thanks to my husband and oldest kids for holding down the fort!</span></div>Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11042655321479827880noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060425112423533668.post-33686371305370273922010-08-22T07:07:00.003-04:002010-08-22T07:26:37.736-04:00My Friend's Book<div>I have this <a href="http://justaroundthiscorner.blogspot.com/">friend</a> who is pretty fabulous. Her name is Laurel Christensen. We should've been friends a long time ago, as our paths crossed multiple times, but as it turns out, just this past year or so is when we've gotten to know each other. She is my husband's brother-in-law's sister. Or my sister-in-law's sister-in-law. Confused? My husband's sister married Laurel's brother. Got it? (You know, in Spanish, they have specific and shorter words for those relationships...) </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, she has written several books and given speeches geared for teenage girls, mostly to aid in their feelings of self-worth and self-realization of their own fabulousness, as they gear their lives toward following Jesus Christ. Check her work out <a href="http://deseretbook.com/store/search?x=17&y=15&query=Christensen+Laurel">here</a>. She has a new book coming soon, and I think you should check it out, no matter what your age. It's based on this <a href="http://lds.org/pa/display/0,17884,6826-1,00.html">Young Women Theme</a> which teenage girls stand and recite each Sunday in our church. Powerful, no?</div><div><br /></div><div>Go <a href="http://deseretbook.com/He-Loves-Us-We-Love-Him-Youve-Memorized-Now-Live-Laurel-Christensen/i/5046911">here</a> to check out more details from this new book and pre-order, if you like. You won't be sorry.</div><a href="http://deseretbook.com/He-Loves-Us-We-Love-Him-Youve-Memorized-Now-Live-Laurel-Christensen/i/5046911"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuq8FfyECDo3UdD0pFURE2q72KjFPIo0lEK5GHQft0rycTNLMGyC3IF1JGXxWOHH-qPBkd-WZwc6vQeKjIqDbSNYQSpHpXSKa9iFL-mYdRXFc0GFpEgHY8VTg6OdXR9P_CGVodjNn8mZzT/s400/He+Loves+Us+revised+(2).png" /></a><div><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; border-collapse: collapse; ">(some quotes from the book)<br /><br /><strong>FAITH</strong><br /><em>"The reality is that faith isn’t about me. It’s about Him. And the Lord Jesus Christ has a pretty impeccable past record…not just in my life but in the countless lives and experiences of God’s children. That is why if my faith is really centered in HIM, then I’m always okay. Always."</em><br /><br /><strong>DIVINE NATURE</strong><br /><em>"Regardless of who your parents are or how they have chosen to raise you, you have inherited qualities from your Heavenly Parents that are 'in your blood.' It's just who you are."</em><br /><br /><strong>INDIVIDUAL WORTH</strong><br /><em>"Trust that God has a divine mission waiting for you and JUST for you. Trust that He is, even now, orchestrating details of your life to help you fulfill what you were sent to this earth to perform."</em><br /><br /><strong>KNOWLEDGE</strong><br /><em>"The most important knowledge you will gain in this life will be the knowledge that is put into your heart and your mind through life's experience by the power of the Holy Ghost."</em><br /><br /><strong>CHOICE & ACCOUNTABILITY</strong><br /><em>"Every choice has a consequence. But, the Lord loves you enough and trusts you enough to let YOU choose throughout your life. And a daughter of God who understands who she is has the power within her to make good choices and then gets to enjoy the consequences of those choices."</em><br /><br /><strong>GOOD WORKS</strong><br /><em>"One of the characteristics of God's daughters is that we have a natural inclination to nurture other people. We want to love them and serve them and help them. It's one of my favorite things about being a girl. And it's one of the things that makes a girl beautiful."</em><br /><br /><strong>INTEGRITY</strong><br /><em>"That is the epitome of integrity--not simply acting right when you have the chance to act wrong, but acting right when you have the chance to act...right."</em><br /><br /><strong>VIRTUE</strong><br /><em>"The culminating experience for a daughter of God who lives the values is being as close as possible to her Father in Heaven and to her Savior as she enters the doors of God's Holy House--the temple."</em></span></div></div>Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11042655321479827880noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060425112423533668.post-79533435363779883412010-08-20T23:11:00.002-04:002010-08-20T23:15:16.395-04:00Superhero Sighting<img src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs375.snc4/45791_1559889126481_1512872308_1450963_2278506_n.jpg" /><div><br /></div><div>What could be better than waiting for a smoothie taste at Costco? Waiting next to a superhero, of course (complete with yellow crocs). </div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, how I love this boy! He is as sunshiny as his shoes (except when he's not...).</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11042655321479827880noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060425112423533668.post-16115011418955340882010-08-11T17:59:00.000-04:002010-08-11T18:00:18.316-04:00Wow.<div>What a magnificent lesson!</div><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/E7zwQ_7q-fU&hl=en_US&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/E7zwQ_7q-fU&hl=en_US&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11042655321479827880noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060425112423533668.post-80448264657245830932010-08-09T12:35:00.002-04:002010-08-09T13:15:02.061-04:00A lesson in eavesdroppingLast night, my husband asked me, "So, <i>is</i> so-and-so pregnant?" <div><br /></div><div>Wait a minute. What the? And this is how I replied:</div><div><br /></div><div>"Didn't we have this conversation after church with her husband today? I heard him talking about how he'll be busy this fall, and that's the reason, blah, blah, blah. Remember, I turned to you and said, 'See, you were the one who guessed first, and you were right.' And then I turned to him and said, 'But we never ask. Congrats. We think it's great!'"</div><div><br /></div><div>And then my husband replied, after nearly falling over with laughter:</div><div><br /></div><div>"We were talking about how <i>World of Warcraft 2</i> is going to be released in November. <i>That's </i>why he'll be so busy. I thought you were being awfully nice and unusually supportive about it."</div><div><br /></div><div>It's too bad my foot fits so nicely in my mouth.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">*BTW, she </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">is</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> pregnant, and she's having a boy in December. She said so herself. At least I know enough not to ask!</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11042655321479827880noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1060425112423533668.post-58510485530922179182010-07-21T19:36:00.003-04:002010-07-21T21:43:29.299-04:00True LoveYou know it's true love when the husband and wife greeting goes something like this:<br /><div><br /></div><div>Wife: <i>goes in for a hug after a very long and tiring day</i>, "You stink. Time to reapply the deod!" Husband: <i>lovingly, and with an equally sour face</i>, "Umm...What did you have for lunch?"</div><div><br /></div><div>If that's not the definition and embodiment of true love, I don't know what is. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11042655321479827880noreply@blogger.com1