i wonder

"Books do for children what they do for adults:
they inform, they stimulate, delight, amuse, and transport us all into other worlds 
of thought and experience.  Most importantly, they make us think and feel and respond, 
and they can put us in intimate touch with the best that has been known
 and thought since the first words were written down.  
Good books make us more aware of others and lead us 
forward into a surer knowledge of ourselves."

Andrew Clements

As of late, my favorite part of the day is around 8:30-9pm when the little girls call me into Liza's room after they are all ready for bed.  I find the lights off, lamp on, and my "reading pillow" propped against the wall with the book Wonder lying on the floor just waiting or the next few pages to be read aloud.  No matter what has happened during the day - if I wasn't at my most patient or loving, if the girls engaged in warfare, or if they just have been to busy to even notice one another . . . these few minutes together make it once again feel like everything is all right in the world (and our family) once again.

We have always had a tradition of reading books aloud, but it usually happens very
s l o w l y . . . life gets in the way, evenings get busy, mom has more pressing duties after the kids are in bed, etc., etc.  For example, about this time last year we decided to read Dicken's A Christmas Carol because it was Christmas and it's one of the greatest classic tales every written, and hey, it's great exposure to Dickens.  Ya, well, we finished just before Easter.

That's usually how we roll, but this time it's been different.  The girls beg each night for just "one more chapter" and we're cruising through this tender book that I would recommend to every child and parent.  Wonder is a treasure and I delight that my girls look forward to our time reading.  I wouldn't want to spend my evenings doing anything else.

Gilead

 Last week I finished reading Marilynne Robinson's exquisite novel, Gilead yet again. This is a book to be savored. A beautiful story told by the Reverend John Ames through a series of letters to his young son as he contemplates his life, his history, and the future of his wife and son. Robinson's brilliant observations and lyrical prose set this novel apart from so many other contemporary writings. Her knowledge of the relationship between fathers and sons, as well as her deep understanding of the gospel of Jesus Christ is remarkable. This is one of my favorite books and after finishing the final chapter, I felt as if saying good-bye to an old friend. However, I'm sure it won't be long I pick it up once again to be tutored by the ever wise, yet humble, John Ames.

Here are a few excerpts that I found particularly noteworthy during this reading:

". . . it's your existence I love you for, mainly.  Existence seems to me now the most remarkable thing that could ever be imagined.  I'm about to put on imperishability.  In an instant, in the twinkling of an eye . . .  The twinkling of an eye. That is the most wonderful expression.  I've thought from time to time it was the best thing in life, that little incandescence you see in people when the charm of a thing strikes them, or the humor of it. The light of the eyes rejoiceth the heart.  That's a fact."

 "Our dream of life will end as dreams do end, abruptly and completely, when the sun rises, when the light comes.  And we will think, All that fear and all that grief were about nothing.  But that cannot be true.  I can't believe we will forget our sorrows altogether.  That would mean forgetting that we had lived, humanly speaking.  Sorrow seems to me to be a great part of the substance of human life. . . ."

"This is an important thing, which I have told many people, and which my father told me, and which his father told him.  When you encounter another person, when you have dealings with anyone at all, it is as if a question is being put to you.  So you must think, What is the Lord asking of me in this moment, in this situation?  If you confront insult or antagonism, your first impulse will be to respond in kind.  But if you think, as it were, This is an emissary sent from the Lord, and some benefit is intended for me . . . You are free to act by your own lights.  You are freed at the same time of the impulse to hate or resent that person.  He would probably laugh at the thought that the Lord sent him to you for your benefit (and his), but that is the perfection of the disguise, his own ignorance of it."

"In every important way we are such secrets from each other, and I do believe that there is a separate language in each of us, also a separate aesthetics and a separate jurisprudence.  Every single one of us is a little civilization built on the ruins of any number of preceding civilizations, but with our own variant notions of what is beautiful and what is acceptable-- which, I hasten to add, we generally do not satisfy and by which we struggle to live.  We take fortuitous resemblances among us to be actual likeness, because those around us have also fallen heir to the same customs, trade in the same coin, acknowledge, more or less, the same notions of decency and sanity.  But all that really just allows us to coexist with the inviolable, untraversable, and utterly vast spaces between us."

read to me

Today after the second session of conference I was so wound up I needed to a. get outside for some fresh air and a walk, and b. do something productive.  Four hours of sitting on a couch watching conference just about does me in.  Don't get me wrong, I love conference, but I do much better if I can listen and be active at the same time . . . should have thought ahead and planned a project for today :-).

Before our walk, I noticed the girls' book shelves were in dire need of some organization, so I began pulling out books that they had outgrown and made a pile to give to the kids when they start their families, and a pile to save for our eventual grandchildren.  Suddenly, I was awash in tender memories as I felt the spine of each familiar, worn title from their childhood.  Books have always played an important role in our lives and I was surprised how many of these treasures tugged at my heart as I reminisced the hours spent cuddling with each child on the rocking chair or snuggling in bed reading a favorite bedtime story.

Although Ryan and Caroline are now reading Shakespeare and classic American novels for English class, and our bedtime stories have evolved from "time for bed little mouse, little mouse" to giggling together under the covers as I read Anne's latest antic, I hope the memories of those sweet stories will forever be etched in their hearts as they patiently wait to be passed on to the next generation.

Ryan, Caroline, Sophie, and Elizabeth's favorite childhood bedtime stories:

Beautifully illustrated poetry beloved by all ages . . .

There was a young lady of Niger

Who smiled as she rode on a Tiger;

They came back from the ride

With the lady inside,

And a smile on the face of the Tiger.

The GREATEST book of alphabet poems in print - love!

Ahhh, such a sweet book of poetry 

(and I'm a sucker with anything illustrated by Jane Dyer) . . .

Read to me riddles

and read to me rhymes,

read to me stories of magical times.

Read to me tales

about castles and kings,

read to me stories

of fabulous things.

Read to me pirates,

and read to me knights,

read to me dragons

and dragon-back flights.

Read to me spaceships

and cowboys and then

when you are finished--

please read them again!

Looking for the perfect collection of Fairy Tales?  This is it.  

Our book is falling apart and we've read it cover to cover many times over.  

Every classic fairy tale is in contained in this book, along with fantastic illustrations.

Chris Van Allsburg.  Need I say more?  

Ryan's favorite story (along with Where the Wild Things Are).

A sweet story of the simple life and passing our love of family and nature on to our children, 

as we teach one another about "all the places to love."  Gorgeous illustrations.

I gave this to Ryan when Caroline was born . . . sniff, sniff.

This is Sophie's favorite story.
Such a sweet tale of a little bat trying to find her place in the world.

Liza's favorite story.  The other day I walked into her room just as she had finished reading it yet again, and she exclaimed, "not easy being a bunny?? pssshh, it's not easy being a PERSON!"

The title says it all . . . we love them, "no matter what."

Who doesn't love NO DAVID!  Caroline loved this book and Chris would read it to her night after night when she was a little toddler.

My mom gave this to me the day I brought Ryan home from the hospital.  It will always have a special place in my heart - it's been read hundreds of times to all the kids.

Said the mother horse to her child,

I love you as much as a warm summer breeze . . .

Said the mother bear to her child,

I love you as much as the forest has trees.

Classic.  My kids love this story just as much as I did.

Another classic . . . sends my little girls into hysterics each time we read it, 

especially if you can do the monkey sounds just right :-).

I love you to the moon and back.

And the all time Cantera favorite bedtime story . . .

It doesn't seem that long ago that both Chris and I read this 

sweet, simple poem to each child night after night as they pointed out each picture:

Goodnight room
Goodnight moon
Good night cow jumping over the moon
Goodnight light
And the red balloon
Goodnight bears
Goodnight chairs
Goodnight kittens
And goodnight mittens
Goodnight clocks
And goodnight socks
Goodnight little house
And goodnight mouse
Goodnight comb
And goodnight brush
Goodnight nobody
Goodnight mush
And goodnight to the old lady
whispering "hush"
Goodnight stars
Goodnight air
Goodnight noises everywhere.

living wholeheartedly

"Don't ask what the world needs.  

Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it.  

Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."

Howard Thurman

I LOVE this!  Isn't it a beautiful reminder about what brings positive energy into our lives?  It's just one of the insightful quotes from the book I am currently reading by Brene Browne, The Gifts of Imperfection.  I thought I'd take a moment to write a little blurb on the blog after my yoga instructor mentioned the author's Ted Talk this morning which led to a discussion surrounding the essence of her observations and how these intuitive moments of awareness are reflected in our yoga practice.  If you haven't had the pleasure of watching, please take the 18 minutes and treat yourself, it's wonderful . . .

While reading, I found myself skipping around and finding the morsels that seem to fit my needs at the moment.  Isn't one of our greatest desires to live an authentic, connected, compassionate, spiritual, and joyful life with our whole hearts, everyday?  So, why do we hold back at at times? Brown's book delves into what prevents us from opening our hearts and allowing others to see our imperfections, our weaknesses, and our struggles.  To live each day wholeheartedly is to have the courage (which literally means to speak one's mind by telling all one's heart) to open our hearts, despite our vulnerability, and also allow our children to present their pure, authentic selves to the world.

I connected with her definitions of the critical aspects of humanity that are so important to each one of us and thought I'd share a few. . .

Connection: the energy that exists between people when they feel seen, heard, and valued; when they can give and receive without judgment; and when they derive sustenance and strength from the relationship.
Love: we cultivate love when we allow our most vulnerable and powerful selves to be deeply seen and known, and when we honor the spiritual connection that grows from that offering with trust, respect, kindness, and affection.
Authenticity: the daily practice of letting go of who we think we are supposed to be and embracing who we are.  Choosing authenticity means cultivating the courage to be imperfect, to set boundaries, and to allow ourselves to be vulnerable . . . exercising the compassion that comes from knowing that we are ALL made of strength and struggle; and nurturing the connection and sense of belonging that can only happen when we believe that we are enough.
Spirituality: recognizing and celebrating that we are all inextricably connected to each other by a power greater than all of us, and that our connection to that power and to one another is grounded in love and compassion.  Practicing spirituality brings a sense of perspective, meaning, and purpose into our lives.
Joy: Twinkle lights are the perfect metaphor for joy.  Joy is not constant.  It comes to us in moments--often ordinary moments.  Sometimes we miss out on the bursts of joy because we're too busy chasing down extraordinary moments.  Other times we're so afraid of the dark that we don't dare let ourselves enjoy the light.  A joyful life is not a floodlight of joy.  That would eventually become unbearable.  I believe a joyful life is made up of joyful moments gracefully strung together by trust, gratitude, inspiration, and faith.
Calm: creating perspective and mindfulness while managing emotional reactivity . . . 
Stillness: is not about focusing on nothingness; it's about creating a clearing.  It's opening up an emotionally clutter-free space and allowing ourselves to feel and think and dream and question. In our increasingly complicated and anxious world, we need more time to do less and be less.

of human bondage

I read this book YEARS ago, and just finished it again yesterday.  It now ranks among my top five novels of all time. Truly a masterpiece of brilliant proportions with power to stun readers with universal emotion and truth.  I was moved to tears as I read Maugham's final words - grateful for the heart wrenching and passionate life experience of Phillip Carey.

The writing is fascinating from beginning to end, and oh how I wish I could take raw emotion, regret, faith, sorrow, joy, pain, idealism, pride, happiness, disillusionment, beauty, love, irrationality, hope . . .  and capture it on paper. Somerset Maugham did just that almost a hundred years ago in this observant classic which continues to haunt our innermost fears and desires, and persuade readers to question the purpose of living in a world that at times seems hopeless.

Of the several dog-eared pages of my book, one passage in the final chapters stands out as Phillip faces the handicap that he has struggled against for so long . . .

He accepted the deformity which had made life so hard for him; he knew that it had warped his character, but now he saw also that by reason of it he had acquired that power of introspection which had given him so much delight.  Without it he would never have had his keen appreciation of beauty, his passion for art and literature, and his interest in the varied spectacle of life.  The ridicule and contempt which had so often been heaped upon him had turned his mind inward and called for those flowers which he felt would ever lose their fragrance.  Then he saw that normal was the rarest thing in the world.  Everyone had some defect, of body or of mind:  he thought of all the people he had known (the whole world was like a sick-house, and there was no rhyme or reason in it), he saw a long procession, deformed in body and warped in mind, some with illness of the flesh, weak hearts or weak lungs, and some with illness of the spirit, languor of will, or a craving for liquor.  At this moment he could feel a holy compassion for them all.  They were the helpless instruments of blind chance.  He could pardon Griffiths for his treachery and Mildred for the pain she had caused him.  They could not help themselves.  The only reasonable thing was to accept the good of men and be patient with their faults.  The words of the dying God crossed his memory:

Forgive them, for they know not what they do.

Charmed Moments

Now that the moment of bad parenting has passed, I just can't open my blog and have that post staring me in the face.  As always, after the breakdown, life almost immediately presents its better side and I can't contain the joy I feel surrounded by so much abundance.

I want to share an insightful passage from my current favorite book, The Gift of an Ordinary Day  . . .

"There is no such thing as a charmed life, not for any of us, no matter where we live or how mindfully we attend to the tasks at hand.  But there are charmed moments, all the time, in every life and in every day, if we are only awake enough to experience them when they come and wise enough to appreciate them . . .  My challenge is to hold on to that awareness, even on days when everyone's stress runs high, when one or the other of my children needs more than I can give, or when I'm simply overwhelmed by the demands of life with adolescents or saddened by the idea of life without them." (pg. 224)


My own "charmed moments" from the past couple days:

• Scripture study Thursday morning - my spiritual well was filled.
• Meeting Liza with a smile and Valentine cookie when I picked her up at school.
• Acting the part of passenger as my son drives himself to the gym.
• Listening to Sophie play her guitar and sing her heart out in her room.
• Dinner with friends that make me laugh so hard I cry, friends that I couldn't imagine my life without.
• Exercise.  Yoga class and meditation - remembering India and contemplating my own devotion.
• The peace within our home as I went about my routine without interruption.
• Spending over an hour on the phone with my best friend and feeling so uplifted afterwards I could hardly contain myself.
• A few precious moments with Chris alone.
• Time with Caroline this evening running errands, then watching a movie together.
• Chatting with Ryan about his day, his friends, school, and his Friday night after he walks in the door - right on time.

No, nothing monumental to record, not a charmed life by any means, just those little things that beg for awareness each day.  Otherwise, I might miss them.

Dreaming of SPRING

Please, please come soon.

After my day yesterday of yearning for the dreary weather to make it's gradual change to blossoms and blue skies and green, I was gently reminded today to stay in the present and not rush what "is."  Yesterday morning I found myself thrown into that unsettling emotional state of "freak, I can't handle yet another day without the sun."  By noon I was purchasing bright white vases, faux blossoms, lilacs, and hydrangeas, along with a live topiary and giant bouquet of beautiful fresh flowers.  I came home and placed flowers on bookcases and countertops, then completed the makeover with a few rosy Valentine's decorations.  Ahhh, it's amazing how flowers and the color pink can make you feel :-).

So, as karma would have it, today while sitting in the ski lodge watching Liza zip up and down the hill, I came across this insightful passage in the book I am currently savoring . . .

"We are stuck in the gray, boggy season that follows winter but is, in anyone's book, a far cry from spring.  It is a season that demands forbearance, for beauty is hard to find.  The frozen purity of winter is a memory, spring is a dream. . . . 

We are suspended between seasons, like becalmed sailors waiting for wind.  It used to be that these cold, patchy-snow weeks of in-between time would fill me with discontent, so eager was I for spring, for the warmth of the sun and the turn of the season, for good footing and new, green life.  For whatever might be next.  But on this damp, wind-tossed afternoon, what I feel is not my old restless yearning for something else, but a new, unfamiliar patience.  Why rush the passing of time?  Why long for a future that can't be foretold, only to miss the muddy magnificence of now?"  (pg. 282 & 285)

Well said, dear author.  Thanks again for the reminder not to rush my days and to live in the ever magnificent present.

Car time

I think everyone out there is aware of the many hours I spend in the car each day driving the kids to school and activities.  The time in the car when I have my teenagers captive has actually been a real blessing.  It's sometimes the only time we get to "talk" to each other and they usually are very gregarious as they share the ups and downs of their day.

However, I also spend a lot of time alone in the car, so I got smart and finally started began listening to audiobooks.  I got hooked during the drive to California earlier this month when Caroline and I listened to one of my favorite books, The Good Earth, as well as some thoughtful and entertaining talks given by Jon Bytheway (we drove home on a Sunday and figured listening to some youth firesides would suffice as church :-).

The past week I have been enjoying Truman Madsen's lectures entitled The Life and Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith.  I can't believe how much my testimony has been strengthened just by listening to one of the most intelligent and humble LDS scholars present these lectures on Joseph Smith.  It made our drive up to Snowbasin this weekend for our family ski trip (post to come) very pleasant since Chris esteems Madsen as much as I do and we both listened intently while the kids basically tuned out and plugged into their i-pods ;-).

Today while I was driving to pick up Caroline, a statement he made in one of the lectures struck me and I had to listen again and then write it down, mainly because it has been on my mind lately and explains so perfectly the greatest principle of the gospel - love . . .

"How can you love the unlovable?  How can you love what has been a cause of great suffering and pain to you in your life?  That is the deepest secret . . .

That is the Gospel of Jesus Christ." - Truman Madsen

Our little pioneer

Sophie can't get enough of the "Little House" books, Laura Ingalls, or the television series that airs every evening at 6pm.  This summer she got hooked when I was looking through Caroline's book shelves for some summer reading Sophie would enjoy.  Well, she devoured the first two books in the series, then Santa surprised her with more books for Christmas and she can't put them down!  I don't think a day goes by that she wistfully mentions her wish to be a pioneer at least once.

Well, today she got her wish.  For one day, she got to be Laura Ingalls and could hardly sleep last night she was so giddy with excitement to put on her cute calico dress and bonnet, along with pantaloons and lace-up boots (thanks to friend Jodelle whose family volunteered a few summers ago at "This is the Place").  Here are some pics from the 3rd grade "wax museum" today . . .

Before school

Still as a statue :-)

Just one glance for a picture - cute!

8. Agency

"To LIVE is to CHOOSE." -- Kofi Annan

Last month my bookgroup read The Giver, an extraordinary book which in fact is written as a "young adult" novel, but is so profound that I'm recommending it for all ages. I've read the book before and thought the premise was intriguing and learned some and forgot most of it. However, this time the impact it made on me was remarkable as I continue to ponder the miraculous gift of agency, moral agency - the freedom to choose. How often do we really take time to even think about the blessing of choice and how it shapes our very being, our life, our existence? It's like the air we breathe everyday, it's just there, it just is. But to contemplate how our lives, my life, would be different if that gift was taken away is truly astounding - how would we function?

I am immensely grateful for this gift, to live in a country where I can exercise this miracle daily and truly experience all that life offers. I have deep gratitude for the agency of others, and how through their actions my life has been so richly blessed. It is this same gift that can cause terrible pain and affliction, but for that I am grateful as well, for the blessings of strength and refinement that come when each of us chooses how we will react to the choices of others. Which reminds me of this quote I posted a couple months ago. I am ultimately responsible . . . it's my agency that can either bless or hurt others, enrich or destroy myself or those closest to me . . . what a responsibility, what a blessing.

4. Literature

"Only in books has mankind known perfect truth, love and beauty."
- George Bernard Shaw (1856 - 1950)

It's late and I've just come home from another enlightening evening spent discussing a great book with my book group. Really, you combine my social life with my love for the written word and of course it's going to last over three hours! I have to ask myself, what would my life be like without books, books, and more BOOKS? I love to read and I am grateful for the creativity and talent that so many authors throughout the ages have given to us through their writing. My gratitude stems from the life lessons, insights, and truth that I gain each time I read a great book . . . inspiration, yes, for a work of literature to become one of my favorites, it must inspire, uplift, and teach. For that reason alone, I am grateful because every time I read another book, I'm moved and I hopefully become a better person through the experience.

Love this quote . . .

"I have come to the frightening conclusion that I am the deciding element. It is my personal approach that creates the climate. It is my daily mood that makes the weather. I possess tremendous power to make life miserable or joyous. I can be a tool of torture or an instrument of inspiration. I can humiliate or humor, hurt or heal. In all situations, it is my response that decides whether a crisis is escalated or de-escalated, a person humanized or dehumanized. If we treat people as they are, we make them worse. If we treat people as they ought to be, we help them become what they are capable of becoming.

-Goethe

This is the message of a powerful book - The Book Thief - a narrative that makes us step back and take a look at ourselves and what we are ultimately capable.

Our Books, Our Daughters

This afternoon Sophie and I attended our fourth neighborhood "Mother & Daughter Book group." We began these little gatherings last summer as a way to share our love for the classics we treasured as young girls with our own daughters. Today's discussion, followed by the brilliantly casted movie, was Anne of Green Gables, truly one of the most inspiring and tender books ever written. I remember reading it out loud to Caroline when she was about Sophie's age, and then a few years later watching her become completely engaged in Anne's antics and imagination once again as she read it on her own a couple of years later. I still own the same copy of the book that I read as a girl and vividly remember finding myself (along with my friend Rachel) so engrossed in Anne's life on Prince Edward Island that we would act out parts of the book . . . even cutting off pieces of our hair to give to each other as a token of our friendship, and to this day I still refer to my dearest of friends as "kindred spirits." Caroline just finished Anne of Avonlea (the sequel), however, she stopped attending these discussions because she realized all the other little girls hovered around the age of 8, so that's all it took for her to boycott the outings. She did, however, love our very first group when we read and discussed Little Women (with some older girls) - she truly learned so many lessons from Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy. Not to mention the insights I gained into motherhood by listening closely to the wisdom so freely offered by patient Marmee.

It is no wonder that one of my greatest joys right now is sharing these treasured books with my own children. Maybe that's the reason I was blessed with three girls - we're already planning our trip to P.E.I. as soon as Liza can read the book! Anyway, after the discussion we all gathered to watch the movie together. It doesn't matter how many times I've seen this film, it's a classic. It's one of those rare films that captures the book's characters and scenery so beautifully through it's music and cinematography that you just relish every delightful minute. It was a pleasure to just spend time with my Sophie, cuddled on a couch, giggling at Anne's gregarious and stubborn nature, while watching her grow and mature into a bright, talented, and strong young woman. I can't think of a more poignant, sweet message for our daughters.