4/29/2009

The Rooster at my House



There is a rooster at my house.

It all began innocently enough. My daughter’s second grade class was hatching eggs for their science lesson. Pretty soon the teacher asked her students if they wanted to take the cute fluffy chicks home with them.

My daughter begged.” Just one . . . please. Then it was, “Just two . . . please.” Then, “Just three . . . please.” You get the picture.

I’ve done chickens before. I know that cute little fluffy chicks turn into large hens and roosters that need to be fed and given water every day. So I told my little girl that she could have the chickens if she agreed to take care of them.

She promised. So the brood came home. We set up a big box, warm light, water and feed. I barely turned around before those cute little fluffy yellow creatures were sprouting feathers and flying out of their box. So we moved them to the barn.

Before long my daughter grew weary of taking care of her new pets and my reminders were met with wines.

“I warned you,” I told her. “I told you that they would require daily care. I told you that pretty soon it would be winter and you wouldn’t want to go out to the barn in a blizzard to feed them.”

“You should have warned me harder,” my little girl answered.

So today we have a huge rooster who pretty much rules and roost around here. The problem is – this rooster is way sneaky. He acts nice while you’re facing him, but if you turn your back he takes off running after you at lightening speed. You can hear him coming up behind you - so you turn. At the exact moment you turn to face the approaching beast, he stops . . . acts innocent . . . and begins pecking at the ground like he wasn’t really running after you at all. Then, if you turn your back again, the whole scenario starts over again.

I don’t like having a pea-size brain rooster who is smarter than I am around here. He likes to crow and wake me up at obnoxious times. He waits until the garden tomatoes are red then gorges himself. He chases the grandkids. It’s time for him to go . . . but we can’t bring ourselves to get rid of him. He’s become one of the family.

4/25/2009

Keep Shoveling:There's a Pony in There Somewhere



Once upon a time there was a king who had two sons. One son was optimistic and grateful for everything the father did for him. The other son was pessimistic and never grateful for anything the father did for him.

One day the king decided to try an experiment. He gave his ungrateful son a brand new pony. Then he gave his grateful son a room full of manure. Several hours later the king went to check on his two sons.

First he found his ungrateful son. The boy was crouched in a corner frowning and grumbling to himself.

"What's wrong? the king asked. "I just gave you a new pony."

The son answered, "Now you probably expect me to feed it and clean up after it."

The king left the grouchy son and went to check on his other son. He found him smiling, happy and shoveling manure over his shoulder as fast as he could.

"Son," the king said. "What are you doing? Face reality. Don't you realize you are in a room full of manure?"

The grateful son answered, "Oh father thank you. With all this manure in here, there's got to be a pony in here somewhere."

At days end the king took the pony away from the ungrateful son and gave it to his grateful son.

So you see . . . there really was a pony in there somewhere.

4/21/2009

How April Got Her Name





For April 23rd, 2009



Once upon a time, there was a woman who was going to have a baby in June. The woman thought about many names for her baby but she couldn’t seem to settle on just the perfect name for her first child. After all, they hadn’t officially met each other yet.

On the first warm day in spring several months before the baby was due this woman went to the park with her husband and had a picnic with their friends. After they finished eating, everybody played catch with a Frisbee. The husband leaped in the air to catch the disk, but when it came time for the woman to jump, she couldn’t. The husband and the friends laughed at the woman. She told them to stop laughing.

That night the woman woke up and rushed to the bathroom. She told her husband she couldn’t quit leaking so he rushed her to the hospital. When they got to the hospital emergency room, the nurses rushed the husband to the admission office. Then they took the wife into a room. A nurse started asking lots and lots of questions.

“Could I lie down?” the woman asked.
After the woman was on the bed, the nurse checked her then screamed, “Don’t push!” then rushed from the room.
A sleepy doctor rushed into the room, checked her then yelled, “Don’t push!”
The woman was confused . . . she didn’t feel like pushing anything.
Then the husband rushed into the room wearing a hospital gown that made him resemble a space alien. Just then the doctor rushed toward the woman and caught a tiny five pound baby who was rushing into the world.
“It’s a girl,” the doctor said.

The woman was tired of so much rushing so when the nurse put the baby girl in her arms, she took a deep breath and sighed. Then she looked at her infant daughter for the first time. At that exact moment, her heart sang for joy. A heavenly choir was singing the Halleluiah Chorus inside her. She wondered if the doctor and nurse could hear it. Then her baby looked up at her for the first time and smiled. A sudden explosion of sunshine burst inside the new mother. She wanted to get up and dance on the bed because she was so happy but the doctor said he had to sew her up first.

After the sewing was done the mother, father and baby snuggled together for the first time. The father said his daughter’s skin was so soft he couldn’t feel it through his callused fingers. The mother said she’d found the pot of gold at the end of her rainbow; her new baby was a golden treasure and dream come true.

When the mother brought her new baby daughter home from the hospital, she saw red tulips and yellow daffodils by her front porch. That’s when an angel touched the mother’s heart and said, “Your daughter is springtime - light, hope, warmth and joy.” That was the moment the mother knew the perfect name for her newborn daughter because an angel whispered it in her ear . . . April.

Now the baby girl has grown up and she has golden treasure babies of her own. Where ever April goes she spreads sunshine, happiness, love and joy because she is springtime just like her name. Now the woman who leaked on the way to the hospital is a grandma and she knows for sure she picked the perfect name for her baby girl.
Happy Birthday April. I love you.
MOM

4/17/2009

Muddling Along


The dishwasher had malfunctioned, flooding our house all night as we slept. We didn’t know until one of our sleepy-eyed children came into our bedroom early in the morning and said, “Mom and Dad! It’s raining in the basement!”
The room that was hardest hit was the storage room where we’d recently carefully stacked and dated our pride and joy, a two-year supply of food. In a mad dash to save anything we could, every member of our family hauled each bucket and box out into the back yard to dry out. It took hours.

Just when we finished, we heard a clap of thunder, looked up, and felt several drops splash in our eyes. Then the heavens were opened and the few drops immediately became a downpour. We regrouped and quickly hauled our soggy mess into the garage.

When we finally got every box and bucket into the garage, my son came running to me in tears, informing me his pet rabbit was dead. After finally getting the children off to school, my daughter called from campus saying she couldn’t remember where she’d parked the car at BYU. Then my other first-grader had an accident that required a change of clothing. You get the picture.

“I can’t handle any more,” I said to my husband.

“You don’t have to handle it,” my husband replied. “There’s no rule book somewhere that says you have to go through life handling everything. Just muddle, Jan. I’ve been muddling for years and no one can tell the difference.”

Muddle, I thought. I think I can muddle.

Now every time I’m feeling overwhelmed, I remember my husband’s timely advice. Frankly, I’ve been muddling ever since and so far no one can tell the difference, just like he promised.

I remember a day when I walked into the kitchen to find my young son surrounded by the large white buckets where I stored our flour, sugar, and pasta. He was busy scooping— sugar into the flour—rice into the sugar—pasta into the rice. The whole kitchen looked like a white billowing cloud except for my son’s innocent grin and two large blue eyes staring up at me. “Look, Mom. I’m the bread maker!” my young son said as he looked up at me.

Suddenly it dawned on me that whenever I made bread I pulled out all the white buckets and started scooping. He was trying to be like me.

My feelings of frustration melted into love. I was so proud of him for trying. As we got busy cleaning the kitchen, I realized God loves us like that. No matter how big the mess or mistake we’ve made, God helps us clean it up. That is the essence of muddling.

Muddling is not mediocrity. Muddling allows us to stop keeping up appearances or worrying that we’ll never measure up. Muddling is accepting our humanness and inadequacies. Muddling is realizing there are some messes only our Father in Heaven can clean up. And muddling is seeing our worth through God’s eyes and never giving up hope that things will work out.

4/16/2009

Where Sweet Peas Came From


April 24th, 2009
Once there was a mother who wanted to plant a garden. She wasn’t sure how to plant, water, weed or nourish – but she had the courage to try. So she carefully cultivated the soil, planted good seeds, watered the seedlings . . . and waited.

Then the sun came out and the weeds grew. The mother had to get down on her hands and knees to carefully remove the weeds near her seedlings so they could grow. Sometimes the mother’s back ached and she grew hot and tired but she watched and worked and waited. Storms came then went and the hot sun glared down from the sky. Sometimes her garden felt like all work and worry. The mother had to supply the water when it didn’t rain. She had to hoe the weeds when she didn’t feel up to it. Sometimes she wondered why she ever thought she could grow a garden because she didn’t really know what she was doing and perhaps it would be easier to give up and go shopping at the grocery store instead.

But even after the hard days, the mother didn’t give up.

The seedlings grew and grew and soon became leaves and vines and blossoms. Each blossom grew into a tiny pea pod that soon grew longer and longer. First the pods were flat. Then each day the pea pod grew plumper and fuller until it was ready to burst.

One day the mother picked a plump pea pod. She pried back the outer shell and what did she find? The sweetest pea she’d ever seen.



Happy FIRST Birthday Logan . . . my precious little sweet pea!

I love you.

Grandma

4/14/2009

You're Invited


A few years ago I decided I wanted to learn how to play the violin. It was the first time in my married life when all my children were in school and I had a few hours to myself.

When I was growing up I always wanted to play the violin in the school orchestra but when I told my mother she said, "Only rich kids can do that." So I sang in the choir instead. But I always watched the students with their black cases and longed for the chance to try.

In college I worked at the music library where music major students would ask me to put on a particular classical piece assigned by their teachers. Then they would listen to the musical selection on a channel with headphones. When things got slow at the music booth I would listen to the pieces along with the students. I had never been exposed to such masterpieces. I discovered one particular piece that literally moved me to tears every single time I listened. The piece was titled "Adagio for Strings" - written my Samuel Barber. I used to dream about how it would feel to play in an orchestra that could make music like that.

Before long I got married and immediately got busy raising ten children. I used to put on records and tapes and listen while I changed diapers and chased toddlers around the house. I wanted my children to share my love for music so I figured out a way to pay for piano lessons for all ten children by writing newspaper columns. Then there were the teenage years when my music had to compete with the loud base booming beat coming from my son's basement bedrooms.

I thought the rest of my life would be devoted to inspiring my children to enjoy quality music. I didn't know I'd ever get a second chance. Who ever heard of a fifty-two year old homemaker learning to play the violin?

I've learned it's never to late to follow your heart.

Why am I telling you all this? Because I will be playing in a concert with an orchestra on Thursday. We will be playing some of the music I used to put on for the music major students when I was in college.

There will be moments during our performance when I know my eyes will water. Music always moves me like that. Yet the emotion will be for other reasons as well. I'm playing a violin in an orchestra - a privilege I never thought I'd have and I can't get over the absolute thrill of it all.

So I'm inviting you to my concert at 7:00 p.m. at 4000 N. Foothill Drive in Provo on Thursday April 16th. I'm also inviting you to try something you always wanted to do. It's never too late to follow your heart and see where it leads.