a cairn that davis made while we were deer hunting with grandpa chad.

i watched this great TED talk by lissa rankin, MD about cairns, and self-healing.  

the top rock, is your body, and you can see the shifts from the other rocks manifest in it.  but often it isn't what is really wrong with the body, it is the big rocks underneath--our spirit, mental health, creativity, relationships, and our inner pilot light.

i dont' believe any amount of raw foods and exercise could have healed me, although they certainly helped and put me on the right path to healing.  but i know i had some pretty big underlying rocks underneath that needed to be healed.    

part of that healing, was as i said in another post, catching a "glimpse" of myself.  and that glimpse i saw was more beautiful than anything i have ever imagined.  pure light.  and my body, my weaknesses, the habits and fears i had built up around me, looked like a gray, lifeless covering in comparison that sloughed off as i focused on my radiant self.  

that is what meditation is.  a daily communion, where we see ourselves. where we commune with God and catch a glimpse.  

after seeing myself, i couldn't think of a more powerful tool that satan could use than to cover that up.  to make me doubt myself  to stop me from my  passion, my callings, my true selves--because that true self is a force to be reckoned with.  

but we work with glimpses and whispers.  and we have to take the time to see and hear.  to connect.  

www.kellyraeroberts.com

idaho retreat with felice (i wasn't there but LOVE this photo by Mandy Van Etten Williams--her lovely canvas of the SLC temple with POPPIES! here).  

"when we let our true self be seen, when we let our inner pilot light  radiate, we heal from the inside out." --lissa rankin

 can't you just see and feel that statement from the picture above?  when i look at felice, the teacher, i automatically close my eyes and take a deep breath and i can immediately put myself in that meditative safe and calm place.  because i have been practicing it, now for almost a year.  

kundalini yoga and meditation  saved my life.  it helped me heal from the inside out (or i should say is helping me heal).  faster than i thought possible.  

there is a great affirmation in felice's parenting affirmations that says something like, "i am grateful for my children who bring up unhealed parts of me."  sometimes, if i can take a moment to step back when some billowing anger or frustration, stress or fears comes up i can see it is an unhealed part of me that is coming up to the top of pile of rocks and it is a chance for me to face it and deal with it.   sometimes i have to sit with it for awhile and see what the trigger was.  most often it is an untruth.  it is a lie i have belieived, most often about myself or sometimes about others.  and most of the lies sounded something like, "i am not good enough."  i can't think of anything more strangling and soul sucking.  but sadly, i've told those lies to myself too many times.  

and the great thing with kundalini yoga--you don't have to even know all your "suff" or figure it all out.  you do the work and the stuff gets healed and you keep moving forward.  

one breath at a time.

did i tell you about the time i went to a regular yoga class and when they slid those big barn doors closed i spent the next hour trying not to have a panic attack--while spending money to feel calm.  it was awesome.  but at the end of the class i talked to the teacher, outside in the hallway, where the doors were open;).  and told her i coudln't breathe properly.  from my belly.  

and she said, "that is great."  

and i looked at her, confused.  

and she said, "now is a chance for you to find your breath."  

i may have thought she was slightly crazy, but very deep.  

but this year i found my breath.

and breath is life.  

and my anxiety had stolen a lot of that from me.  

made me scared to particpate in life.  

and i got it back.

boo yah.  

so, sarah is one of my very favorite people.  i am VERY sad that our boys no longer go to preschool together (that her AMAZING mom "nanasue" taught)--because we often tried to go walking at a park nearby.  but she is an angel (and not just because she played that part in Savior of the World).  truly an angel.  i am so blessed to know her and am grateful for her and i know that she was always listening to the spirit and helping out our family when we needed it after we moved.  

awesome, awesome family.  tim and evan, sarah's husband, served together in mexico on their missions--and i am so grateful that our families mesh so well.  LOVE YOU!!!

i just took down my vision board.  

i'm finished for the year.

it is amazing to me that a year ago i had not meditated reguarly.  

that i hadn't even dreamed of a character that i really love now.

that i was terrified of closed spaces and lines.  

that i could not fully comprehend how great my joy could be.

it has been a great year.  the best year. . .perhaps the best year i have had in many, many years.  

i am grateful for my words, goals, vision--but mostly i am grateful for the help in acheiving them.  even, probably especially in unexpected ways.

i was just thinking of a project that i had kind of dreamed up at the beginning of the year and had tossed around the idea with a couple of friends.  and then i completely forgot about it.  until last week.  when a different friend contacted me to help with a project.  a book.  about becoming whole.   a step at a time.  a completely different scope and vision than the book i had thought about, but that past idea from january came fluttering back to me and i thought it was crazy how things work.  

a few of my goals changed shape or specifics--but the desire and reason that i had made them stayed the same.  and the part of me that i hoped to strengthen became stronger.  

and braver.

this morning after i finished a meditation set (at tim's request--he seems to find it better now when i come to him stressed to just sweetly suggest to put everything aside and go meditate) a kriya for throwing off stress--i just knew it was time to take down my board.  

a confirmation that my year was complete.  to lay it aside and feel full, whole, blessed--particuarly as i leave on vacation.  

that the rest of the season is for enjoying, rejocing and celebrating.  

a beautiful year.  

i love you all.  thanks for your love and support this  year.  thanks for your friendship and goodness.  

now go listen to this song and then meditate for me, alright?  

let's celebrate our victories this year.  and then let's be quiet and listen to what our spirit is confirming to us.  

from tim's facebook post:  

RIP little brother Steven Andreoli.  I love you and didn't get to tell you enough. I will always be greatful for October 2013 where I got to spend every day with you. I feel like that was a gift I am only now opening. I was looking forward to many future volleyball tournaments together where Andreoli squared would be victorious. You were a great friend and a joy to be around. Hope to see you soon buddy. I'm looking forward to whoopin your butt in some disc golf on the other side. Start practising.

I remember the first time I met Tim's family in California. Tim was bragging about how smart I was, "She has a 4.0 GPA at BYU." I smiled sweetly, a little embarrassed but happy that Tim was sharing my strengths with his family around their dinner table. Then Steven, 15 at the time said, "What do you put on your cereal." I answered, "Milk." He asked, "What color is millk?" "White." I replied. And then he asked the question, "What do cows drink?" . . .and I answered, "Milk." He laughed and said, "Cows drink water." My college GPA did not keep me from being bested by the guy that would later be a best man at my wedding. When my kids came home telling that same joke years later, I was happy that Steven had equipped me with the right answer and they love to hear that story. They miss you Steven. Last night as I was tucking Skyler into bed he said, "Can we put a picture of Steven on the ipad, the picture when it turns on, so I will always remember him?"

And Time stood still.

The fireworks were sounding in approach of the New Year and I only heard them in the background. Our family was together, and awake, but not in anticipation of a countdown. Last night we were counting backwards. We were looking through boxes of photos, scraps of elementary school reports, and hand drawn silhouettes. It almost seemed inconsiderate of time to continue into 2014 as I held wallet sized soccer photos of Steven, that looked so much, too much like my two boys. It seemed that time should freeze as we looked through Steven's clothes, hoping to smell his cologne still there. Later, as I worked on the computer, I saw our Christmas card, that had finally arrived to Dale and Lynett's that day, on the desk. I still had a stack of undelivered and unsent cards at home, when time had marched too quickly through the holiday season. . . Now I felt they would remain unsent--the hashtag "best year" seemed too bright and happy, almost mocking in its declaration. 

Each year I choose a "word of the year." Several months ago the word "daily" began to whisper to me. But as the end of the year came closer I started to reconsider. "Daily" seemed so ordinary. . .and well, like a lot of work. I hadn't committed to the word, even when I put two hourglass jars on display in my bedroom, to remind me, of the opportunity in each day. 

Our 2013 Christmas card was a snapshot of our days. Not the portrait perfect one with painstakingly coordinated outfits, and happy smiles to conceal the stress that most often accompanies family picture day. My pictures weren't even straight, but it was either spend another hour making them perfect or send them to the printer before our family vacation. I gulped and embraced imperfection, because it was kind of beautiful. 

On the start of this new year, this new day, Sklyer, pajama-clad (as usual), climbed into my lap and asked, "What do you do in heaven?" I smiled and paused and then answered, "You spend time with your family." "That's it?" he asked. He seemed a little disappointed, perhaps because it seemed a little ordinary (and maybe, like a bit of work). 

AND I knew then, "daily" seemed to be the perfect word for an imperfect, but beautiful life. As I looked at my card again, on this start of the New Year, I saw it with new eyes. I saw the sunflower from my grandpa's garden and think of Steven. AND in the center,the sun shining behind the Salt Lake Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saint (Mormon) temple and our beautiful daughter, Bronwyn. My 2013 word of the year was "light"--and it seems that there is no better symbol than that picture. I am so grateful for the light and knowledge I have of my heavenly family. We are all so grateful for the assurance that we will be with Steven again. There is nothing more ordinary, or extraordinary about our families and the time, each day we have to spend with them. 

An inspiring author, Donald Miller, shared a tool as we plan our days. A simple question to ask ourselves BEFORE we begin our day. "If I could live today over again I'd. . ." Miller said, "Most people wake up worried about all the stuff they have to get done, but you think about what you'd do differently if you pretend you're living today over again, you'll find yourself realizing most of the stuff you worry about isn't worth it and instead add more relational elements in your life." As I think about that question, the crooked lines on my card don't seem so important but the relationships within those pictures do.

So, today, the first day of my year of living "daily" I ask myself the question, "If I could live it over again. . ." AND, my answer? I would spend time to be still. Time to hear the comfort of the hundreds praying, thinking about and serving our family. I would take time to comfort my children and not worry so much about what we are packing. I would turn over my hourglasses and see that running sand as a precious gift. I would look at the long drive as a blessing, because my whole world will be in that car with me. I would hold Tim's hand as we drove and laugh at every single one of his jokes (because his are just as funny as Steven's). AND, I myself would pray, to comfort those who are mourning Steven's  death. I think that is what I will do toDAY

Chris McConkie, "They Without Us."  

"And, therefore, as you look back at your seventy or so forebears... you might recognize that you have inherited the blood of many generations. And blood may not be a correct word scientifically, but in the scriptures it stands for seed, which means heredity, the inheritance of tendencies, and all of us have them. You have the blood of this generation, from which we must become clean - 'clean from the blood of this generation' (D&C 88:85). If you do, you will be clean from the blood of every generation, because it is compounded and accumulated into now- and that includes the blood of some degeneration. 
So perhaps you do have problems that you can blame on your ancestors, and if you forgive that and choose to stand close to the Lord in the process of purifying your life, that will affect your whole family in both directions. You are not alone. There is no way you can gain solitary and neutral ground. You are in it - you are involved. And this, I believe, is one of the profound meanings of the tame and wild olive trees. If you take a wild branch and graft it in to a tame one, if the branch is strong enough it will eventually corrupt and spoil the tree all the way to the roots. But if you take a tame branch and graft it in to a wild tree, in due time, if that branch is strong enough, it will heal and regenerate to the very roots. You will have then been an instrument in the sanctification even of your forebears.
...To be that kind of branch and achieve that kind of transformation backward and forward is perhaps the greatest achievement of this world. But to do it one must be great, one must be linked, bound to the Lord Jesus Christ. One must be mighty. One must be something of a savior. And that is exactly what the Prophet Joseph Smith said we are: 'saviors on Mount Zion.' (Truman G. Madsen, "The Temple: Where Heaven Meets Earth," p 84)

1. What do you want to acknowledge yourself for in regard to 2013? (What did you create? What challenges did you face with courage and strength? What promises did you keep to yourself? What brave choices did you make? What are you proud of?) 

i installed picasa on my computer yesterday (why didn't i do this  years ago?).  as i scrolled through several years of pictures one word seemed to overpower me:  create.  pictures of my house either crazy messy or pristine (often due to some party).  so many projects--gardens, baking, writing, children's projects and i am kind of shocked at how often i move around pictures and knick knacks.   as i saw the kids "growing" through the pictures i was stuck at what a wonderful life they do have.  i am most grateful for 2013 as a continuation of creating a beautiful life and recognizing it at its end.  

i do think i was brave this year.  i tried new things (meditation, meditation retreat, trek, relief society presidency, family history, writing through nanowrimo) and grasped old things that had become hard for me (public speaking, attending the endowment session at the temple).   i kept my goals.  i think nanowrimo may have been a favorite manifestation of that.  

i am proud of that picture above.  me.  where i am today.  who i am today.  the relationships i have.

(the canvas print lynett gave me for christmas--that may have made me cry).
   

2. What is there to grieve about 2013? (What was disappointing? What was scary? What was hard? What can you forgive yourself for?) 

this year my "soul-stice" sisters and i had planned to get together after the new year, like last year to make our vision boards and talk about 2013 and plan 2014 (it is still in the plans).  these were the questions we answered last year and i began to think of the thing i would "burn" from 2013--some pain or regret.  i couldn't think of anything.  well, perhaps the same thing i had burned from the year before, "anger."  still working on the times that i lose it, but really 2013 had been an absolutely amazing year for us.  

and then shortly after christmas our hearts broke wide open.  we will always mourn the day we lost steven.  i really had no concept of what something like this would feel like.  having lost grandparents, great-grandparents and others close to me before--i had no idea how my heart would be carved out by the unexpected death of someone we love who was so young.  no idea.   my friend olivia said this, "It is definitely a time to mourn and it will be for awhile. And it'll change and swell and crash and recede and then do it again. Grief is a strange companion. Both a healing and a drowning friend." 

i am certain this grief will continue to carve us out this year.  i hope the space it leaves behind can be filled with an increased understanding for our purpose and priorities.  

3. What else do you need to say about the year to declare it complete? The next step is to say out loud, "I declare 2013 complete!" How do you feel? If you don't feel quite right, there might be one more thing to say... 

it almost seems wrong to move forward into 2014, when such a big part of our heart is in 2013 (losing steven).  but this is what i am grateful for and something i thought about often this last week. . .i am so grateful for the whispers that i continually listened to this year. . . i had no idea what a tragedy would come to our family at its close.   i am grateful specifically for the promptings to work on our family history.  i am certainly grateful for the work i put in for the meditation.   i know that physically, mentally and spiritually i would not have handled this the same way i would have a year ago.  even the simple logistics of the funeral and being with so many people and saying the prayer would have been too much for me.  but the resilience i felt like i personally was able to draw on was a priceless gift.  and i don't know that i have ever felt closer to tim than in that week.  to be so focused on him and his family and watching his strengths as he helped organize, make phone calls, and speak at his brother's funeral.  as i watched him i was overwhelmed at love for him--to see him make people laugh and cry, to hear his testimony and to see his goodness was amazing.  i feel so grateful for our family and our life together.  

"We go to the temple to make covenants with Heavenly Father.  We return home to keep them."  --Linda K. Burton. 

i am grateful that we started off the year with davis' baptism.  i'm grateful to have seen the work of covenants through my temple work this year. . .and it was such a beautiful moment to be with the andreoli family in mid-December and see tim's family together as our newest niece teia was blessed and then to be in that same chapel just three weeks later and hear tim's sister and brother speak about covenants at steven's funeral services.   

most of our lives are spent in the "return[ing] home and keep[ing] them."  i think again that is what daily will be for me this year.  the everyday that when we scroll through is messy and beautiful and even our our deepest aches we see the beauty around us.

"Marriage and Parenting are the messiest and most beautiful things I have ever done in my life. I’ll take them both because the beautiful is so. . . good that it makes all the messy in the world worth wading through."--momastery.com

caitlin connolly "they climbed a very small mountain together"

i have two lines of a poem about  steven

"my ears filled with tears

baptized by grief"

the rest of the lines aren't very good.  

but, that sums up the night after we heard the news.

tim had finally fallen asleep, but i was awake, again.

i didn't want to wake tim up, when his eyes had finally closed.

so i lay, very still, on my back.

not moving.

and my body shook with silent sobs

and then the tears ran down my cheeks

and filled up my ears.

at some point he heard me

and

he hugged me close in the dark

and i cried until i fell asleep.

i remember whispering, "i'm so sorry i woke you up."

he didn't mind as we shared our grief together.

i feel like we were bumping along happily and then our lives shifted, bounced, or were jarred into a different path or sphere.

in so many ways everything is the same.

but nothing is the same.

i believe in eternal families

and faith

and hope

but now,

it is with layers of new meanings.

in the moment of mourning for steven,

i also began to mourn for life.

for the people i would lose, or could lose, 

and for the people who were lost before.

suddenly life felt more fragile, and broken, 

but more beautiful in its weakness

and in a way, more strong.

i taught a class on goals

so i made a new 2014 board

and wrote down 12 goals.

when i got home

i put it down in the garage.

i wasn't ready

to keep moving.

my "word" feels right

and it feels wrong.

daily.

some days it sustains me

"just today"

i tell myself.

and sometimes it stretches out long before me

days and days of it.

and sometimes i wish

steven had

just one

more

day.

and i wonder

how many days

left.

for me?

for my family?

for my friends?

and i wonder how i want to spend

this day.

because i only 

have this day.

i tell myself

just enough "manna" 

for today.

and i eat.

and tomorrow,

a new day

i gather

and eat

again.

and learn to trust.

that i will be blessed

in my days.

i can't gather more

than a day

and i look at the precious,

the mystery,

the beauty,

and sometimes

the ugliness

in the day.

and i eat.

and say thanks.

and rejoice

that i had

this

day. 

and i choose

to hope

that i will be sustained

just

one 

more

day.

and

i 

am.

i continue to walk

though sometimes the mountain peaks

are rough beneath my feet.

and sometimes i think the mountain

too hard to climb.

but i choose to walk

and choose to hope.

and the tears are replaced

with a breeze

and a hand in mine.

always.

holding me close

just like that night,

as we move forward

together

with hope.

for

just one

more 

day. 

so this is what i bought myself for my birthday.

it's called "sun and marigold."

and i kind of ridiculously love it.  

it looks exactly like a shield.

and i kind of love that.

it's a great thing to be surrounded by family.  

"i am the exquisite result of the combined lifetimes of my ancestors."

if you were to share your most important story what would it be?

if you could tell just a few things to your children, what would it be?

what would you want people to know about you?

those were a few questions asked at last week's rootstech family history conference.

i want my children to live lives that are HAPPPY, HEALTHY and HOLY.

i want them to FEEL GOOD (particuarly about themselves), BE GOOD, and to DO GOOD.  

i want them to know that although i am avery imperfect mother that i wan the very best for them and try to teach them the things that i think are essential for them.  

i want them to know they are unique, and amazing and have an important work to do.  

i will admit that last week's parent teacher conference was a moment of cloud nine.  hey, it doesn't happen often as a parent so i sat in that tiny plastic chair and soaked it up.  and now i'm going to record it so i can read it after sibling squabbles and messy rooms forgotten. . .and so they can read it later and know their wonderful traits that we saw in them as kids had only become stronger.

skyler.  his teacher said that he was always smiling.  even when she knew if they were doing something she knew he didn't love in class, he would always be smiling.  she called him a math wizard and said he loves to raise his hand for math questions.  when i expressed concerns, again, about his reading she told me not to worry.  it would come.  and he is so HAPPY and not to stress him out.  it would come.   skyler is such an easy kid to be around.  he is really content to hang out at home.  he loves to "play his imagination."  it's kind of the greatest thing to watch.  tim and i will hang out by the door and hear him making sounds and jumping around his room--i think he mostly fights a LOT of battles with imaginary enemies.  he has a very empathetic heart and the other day told me that the kids on the bus were chanting, "you are OLD" to the bus driver.  he told them to stop because it would hurt the driver's feelings.  they wouldn't.  so skyler began to chant, "you are YOUNG!"  it pretty much melted my heart.  and just last night, he came down while tim and i were watching a movie (let's not even talk about how long it takes to get that kid to bed--all that imagaination i guess) and said, "mom, why do you kill deer?  how would you like it if you were just jumping along and someone shot you?  and you were just dead?"  i was a little at a loss for words.  he felt that he had made his point obviously and then said, "so are you still going to kill deer?"  and then he did an impression of a deer bounding about and being shot.  and i wasn't sure what to say.  

davis.  his teacher showed me his reading scores and his math scores and his writing sample.  she was so happy with all of them and he is doing so super well.  but the thing that i really treasured is she said, kind of in passing that he was really honest.  i thanked her and told her how important that was to me.  she continued and told me if she needed to know what had happened in the class, she would ask davis because she knew he would tell her the truth.  she also mentioned that he was very kind.  i am so grateful for that.  it isn't always the case with siblings;), but we are working on it.  he is very self-motivated and responsible.  he has very specific taste in sweatshirts and socks.  and i almost apologized to his teacher for how often he wears his favorite one.  he loves his friends and he has always played with older kids.  at this birthday party this week i noticed he had two sixth graders, a fifth grader (he had invited his best friend, a fourth grader who couldn't come) and one third grader.  he loves when i brush his hair at night.  he loves to snuggle and i hear the constant dunking/shooting of the indoor basketball hoop on the back of his door. 

bronwyn.  her teacher said every year there are a few kids he wish he could keep for another year and she was one of them.  she got to attend the conference with me and at the end he offered again, for her to repeat fifth grade.  she has been in the all program this year (advanced learning lab) and has truly loved it.  they are currently building robots and she just finished writing that essay that had my jaw hanging open as i finished reading it.  i also introduced her to anne of green gables, a dream of mine since i read it myself.  she gobbled it up in a couple of days.  i passed by the blue sword in my bookshelf and thought, it's almost time.  we are going to "new beginnings" for young women's at church in a couple of weeks.  it's an introduction for the girls who will become yw this year.  frankly, it's giving me crazies thinking about it.  but she is a beautiful soul and i know she will love it.  

"she awoke from a bad dream and realized a sudden feeling of hope"  caitlin connolly

this has been a rough six weeks.

up and down.

and an underlying sickness for most of it.

my brain is mostly on overload.

and at the beginning of the year i usually make my list of goals.

i made them, and then took them down.

just looking at them felt too hard.

and they didn't feel quite right.

perhaps i'm like a snake who is growing

and every day my old skin doesn't seem to fit like it did

yesterday.

tomorrow i'll be thirty five.

i look around at the past year 

and see a lot of skin that has been shed.

delicate, paper-thin,

and when i hold it it, it disintegrates in my hand.

i'm left with new skin as i travel over new paths.

the rocks at times biting against my belly.

i'm used to the size of the old skin

but when i crawl around it, it doesn't fit.

but i'm not sure if the new skin does either.

i haven't traveled long in it.

i wake up

and the list runs through my head

today 

i 

want 

to. . .

write for my blog,

go to the temple,

pick up photos,

revise a chapter,

visit ikea,

stroll through good earth,

take a walk,

meditate,

soak in a bath,

run my laundry,

listen to a new song,

bake bread,

scan pictures,

find an ancestor,

find my purpose,

start a group. . .

i'm itching

because

today

i'm already

shedding

more skin.

but

today

rather than feeling sad

and disappointed

that i can't

do

or 

choose

it all

i 

will 

curl up on a rock

and 

soak in 

the possibility 

of

it

all.

all.

it is all possible.

and it's possible

because

i'm

here.

alive.

and

i'm 

here.

in 

this 

skin.

skin that is beautiful.

and i'm not held back.

by old limitations.

the old skin

breaks apart in the breeze

and 

i watch it

and

let

it

go.  

 i'm sharing the first paragraph to my 2013 "nanowrimo" project."  i put it away after november's end.  i thought i might put it away forever.  but i felt a few whispering tugs to pull it back out this week. . .one being the dedication.  and i think i need to write right now.  life needs a little magic.  

victorn frankl helped find people who were suffering find a project and i think i need a project right now.   but i'm also a little scared of my project. 

donald miller shared this:  "The most repeated commandment in scripture is Do not fear.  It's in the text more than 200 times and it's a good thing too because fear has ruined many great stories.  What keeps most of us from living a great story is a fear of failture.  We fear judgement and ridicule so we don't try.  But what kind of father would ridicule his kids for failing?  Most of the criticism that passes through our brains is unture and is not the voice of the Father.  What's true propels us forward.  What's true lets us know we are loved unconditionally.  What's true strengthens our faith.  We ahve to discern God's voice and God's voice, more than anything else, says Do not fear.  

If you fear failture, here's my advice: fail.  Seriously, go out and fail five times fast. . . Get it over with.  Discover for yourself you are allowed to fail.  When you fail and no levithan comes out of the ocean to swallow you, you'll relaize failture doesn't cost anything significant.  What's costs you is the fear to try.  Everybody loves and respects a person who tries, whether they fail or not.  Failure is an education, not a judgement."  

revision scares me.  because i haven't done it before.  sharing scares me.  so, i'm doing it five times fast today.  

behold. . .the first paragraph of my rough, rough, rough draft.  

    The trees wept the day I was taken.  I made them weep.  I pierced their knobby trunks, and the

white sap slowly oozed from the scars, covering my dagger's point.  I whisper-sang a prayer, soft

enough that the guards surrouding the groves would not hear.  The trees would only bleed for us.  

The Bound.  The slaves.    Was there enough blood pulsing through these trees to reapay the blood

this foreign sand had greedily lapped up? Were there enough tears in all the trunks to match the

tears I heard in the quiet desert night?  The white sand houses were not thick enough to block out

the women weeping for a homeland they had never seen.  

i'd like  you to meet "grandma ella," my great grandmother.

today i was watching "the prince and me" and there in the movie, these "booths" were featured as the king was making a speech!  

and you know what, i recognized them and paused the movie and went and showed tim and bronwyn, with great enthusiasm.  they were mildly impressed;).

you see grandma ella's father was a really important man in the government.  he was also lds and passed some important laws to help the church in denmark.  

my "mama dixie" always spoke of her mother-in-law with fondness.

and we still make her danish pancakes.

they are a family favorite.

1 cup flour

1 cup milk

4 eggs

beat with hand mixer.  pour on hot griddle pan.  serve with jam or sugar and butter.  like a thick crepe.  

alright everyone.  i'm going to get family history-ie on you.  

i have a separate private (personal) blog that i've been using to record some of my family history adventures.  

but, i kind of wish there was a cool hip introductory family history blog by someone young and new--but with lots of enthusaism for family history.

so, that's me for now.

YOU GUYS GET ON FAMILYSEARCH.ORG RIGHT NOW!  

if you have not, you are in for a treat.  i PROMISE.

you need to know your LDS login information.  you can get your membership number from a ward clerk if you haven't set up an account yet (but it is the same account as your login for your ward website).  or your membership number is on the back of your temple recommend. 

login.

i'll wait.

okay are you there?

now just start exploring.  there have been SO many pictures and stories added.  and records!  oh my records!  1.7 million a day to be exact.  so, if you can't find what you are looking for check back!  

make a fan chart.

look at your great-great grandfather's sweet mustache.  

(well, hello otto olsen).  

first HEARTS and then CHARTS--was the tag line at the family history conference i attended last week.  

it is kind of impossible not to love your ancestors when you see a picture of them and wonder about their lives.  it is kind of impossible not to admire them when you find an AMAZING story about them.  how do you find a story?  

start googling names.  seriously.  plug in a name and a birth or death date.  or go to ancestry.com--that site is amazing (maybe sign up for a free two week trial). . .but, people, i am so excited that in a couple of months LDS members will have access to ancestry.com for FREE.  

explore.  get excited.  meet your guardian angels;).  and i wouldn't be surprised if they start talking to you.  . . 

never too many selfies people. 

never too many.

yesterday, i had the most wonderful conversation with a dear cousin, who i have always loved and admired.

we talked of death and creation.  

she shared that the grief is like a coil, in the center of the coil grief is more intense and the experiences closer together, but as you continue on and outward the experiences are less frequent and less intense and soften to memories rather than painful experiences.

yesterday in church we learned of the plan of salvation.

again.

man, it can feel like a heavy thing to talk about death when loss is still so fresh and real.

i was conducting relief society and at the end all i had to do was get up and announce the closing song and prayer.

i stood at that small podium

and i could not speak.

i stood at the microphone and attempted to talk

and a strangled sob thing came from my mouth.

so i shut it.

and tried to compose myself.

i stepped to the side of the microphone so my greiving sounds would not be picked up.

i looked to my president with wide eyes

and she jumped up to make the announcements

while i sat down.

a sister came and sat by me and put her arm around me.

i was kind of mortified.

and just the day before i had felt alive enough to clean the house and organize my office and set out a project.  

what would i say to steve?

first, i love you.  and i'd give him a hug--and he'd hug be back in his really too-tight hug.

and second, i'm sorry.  i'm sorry you were in so much pain.  

and third, will you watch out for my boys?    

i'd let him know not to worry.  that he'd be remembered.  i mean, when you choose the sun as your symbol, it's really kind of hard for anyone to forget you.  

and i'd just want to know are you okay.  

the day we went to the mortuary, i was with tim's siblings and parents (and sister-in-law).  we were there to see steven and do some final touches on the dressing of his body.  

lynett, tim's mom, shared it was a sacred time and really the final service you can perform for someone you love.

as we walked into the room i thought what a miracle it would really be if steven could just be alive again.  

like when jesus raised people from the dead.  

how amazing that would be.

and alright, i had a tiny little hope that it might just happen.  

i have a big imagination and a fair amount of faith. . .

but, in sharing this, i realized it might not have happened then.  

but it will.  

and what a miracle that will be.  

he will live again.  

"First News" by Rose Datoc Dall

and this is the good news that i share

as a testimony for my children.

what my voice failed to do yesterday.

although we have suffered death

the word that continues to come to me is 

reBIRTH.  

that because HE lives

we shall too.  

Sketch of Raising Jarius' daughter by Rose Datoc Dall

inspired by my cousin heather's painting. . .(which i love even more than the original).

i wonder

even with perfect faith

did He wonder

if He would live again?

having never done it before.

before the moment

when He was alone

did we watch?

could He see us?

were tears

stilled and crystal in our eyes?

did we hover hopeful, yet pained for our promised Savior.

did our wings beat about Him, cooling his brow

before He would drink?

did we reach to comfort?

we had made the choice

to trust

to follow

and we watched

our brother

drink

and grow

in a garden.

had we sang at his birth

and cried at his death?

had we watched the

twisting

pleading

t

h

e

n

the

stilling

hearing

and

seeing.

of

us.

us

before Him.

did He cry for the sin He suffered

or did He cry for us

as He saw us suffering,

walking before Him

with etched pain 

and mincing feet.

each one.

did He cry at the hurt

we did not yet know

we would endure.

did He reach out to us

swallowing it,

bleeding it;

pores drenched in sorrows

and did we reach to Him

taking comfort,

not knowing our future agony

that He did?

did He see us bloom,

pushing up from broken ground

reborn,

because of His death?

did He hurt at those 

whom He knew

would not accept it?

reject the rebirth

and stay in cold ground?

and so He wept

and bled

in a garden

so that we

may grow.  

is not He now the angel

in our own gethesemene

reaching

pleading

crying.

do not His arms

and wings of light

enfold us

even if we

cannot see?

we fall down

buried in our sorrows

our hurts

buried in dirt

in the ground

and then we hear

the whisper

around

behind

above

and feel the 

tears

--like the ones we shed

as we watched Him--

that are not our own.

His.

His tears.

for us.

we are

watered,

and

we grow.

rising up.

and we 

are

reborn.  

(photo bomb by davis--who can never know that he once wore that shirt bronwyn is wearing)

this morning bronwyn was looking for her denim shirt.  i told her i had seen it in my closet, next to my two denim shirts.

and then inside i laughed.  

because that shirt was the "magic shirt" when we went to california for the funeral.

we were driving from utah straight to the mortuary, before it was going to close.  and we might not have thought about the day after new year's traffic from vegas to california.  it was a bit of a panicked ride as tim was calling the mortuary guy and coordinating with his siblings and parents about meeting them.  

we finally arrived in long beach and had just a few minutes to drop off our kids at dave and chrissy's and run in and change from our disheveled pajama pants.  i grabbed my skirt and a denim shirt from the avalanche of suitcases in the back and ran in and changed.  and then i realized i had grabbed bronwyn's shirt not mine.  but i knew it would take too long to try and find mine and so i just rolled up the sleeves, tried to pull it down a little and called it good.  

then, at about 1:00 the night before the funeral i was ironing all our clothes for the next day in the tiny hotel room when i began to panic as i couldn't find davis' white shirt.  i opened all the drawers, the suitcase, searched under the seats in the car.  no white shirt.  the only other shirts i had packed for him were t-shirts with loud team prints.  we started searching for a walmart or target.  there was not one close by.  

so i began to pray.  

hard.

i looked through all the same places again, hoping that white shirt would magically appear, as it often does after those desparate prayers.

no shirt.

we were doomed.  we needed to be at the church for the viewing at 9:00 the next morning.  there was not enough time.  

and then i saw it.

the magic shirt.

the shirt i had worn the night before.

i held it up under his blazer and thought it might just work.

and then tim and i began to pray.

a lot harder than we had prayed to find the shirt.

that davis would NEVER know that it was bronwyn's shirt.

that i could convince him to wear a denim shirt in the morning.

you see, he is a little picky about his clothes. ahem.  a lot.  

and i knew it would ruin his whole experience at the funeral if he felt uncomfortable the entire time.

the next morning

i present the magic shirt.

i said all the boys wanted to wear blue, for uncle steven.

he didn't even blink.

and he seemed pretty okay when i had to safety pin the collar back and tuck up the sleeves.

it was a miracle.

a tender mercy.

the miracle of the magic shirt--that bronwyn, davis and i all wore in a space of three days.  

the painting i see every night before closing my eyes and every morning when i open them.   "she will find what is lost" by brian kershisnik

 sleeping

waking.

husband knows.

i'm still 

but awake.

our world is quiet

but theirs' is not. 

"they are talking to you."

i hear the smile in his sleep.

he knows.

"go,"

he says.

his words, that i can hear,

push me out of bed.

i'm coming.

i'm coming.  

i don't hear their voices

but i listen to the empty.

i don't feel their hands

but my head turns. 

i don't see them

but they help me to see.

guiding.

pointing.

hoping.

the world is asleep

while i am

seeking

searching

finding.

don't forget me.

remember,

remember me.

tell my story.  

i will,

help me to find it. 

and i do.

don't forget him

says the mother cradling a baby.

 there

there

look there.  

she knows

where. 

she points

i turn.

her whole hope based on

one line.

one record.

she guides,

i find.

there.

her son.

"infant, boy."

there are more.  

they are

crowding

waiting

pleading.

i am

praying

typing

reading.

seeking

seeking

seeking

my ears strain in the darkness

my fingers pray across the keyboard

my hope bigger than the task.

a picture appears before me

my heart swells

with joy,

with recognition?

with peace.

i found you.

i found you.

i feel the echo. 

you found me.

you found me.

 --tim's 5th great aunt, from scotland, a preacher's wife who loved to sit with her husband before the fire in the evenings.--

--and the list of babies, not ever pictured, who i have been blessed to find.