A Poem for my Five-Year-Old Grandson

Cowboy Logan
by
Grandma Baadsgaard

Happy Birthday Logan! I can’t believe you are five years old today.

Here's a poem I wrote just for you. I love you very much.

 When Cowboy Logan straps on his gun and yanks his hat down tight

You can be darn right sure, his mighty girth is an awful scary sight

Cause bad guys might be lurking in your backyard late at night

So Logan keeps his weapon cocked and turns on his flashlight

 

Cowboy Logan scales tall mountains covered in three feet of snow

Then takes a breather on his bear rug when the lights are low

For Logan knows that mighty arrows need the strongest bow

To launch good men into the world where ever they need to go

So cowboy Logan eats his broccoli and his spinach and his peas
Because he knows that fearless men can’t live a life of ease

He must be strong and valiant to find life’s important keys
For brave men can’t just live any old way they please.

 



Cowboy Logan takes his fears and stabs them in the night

With glowing swords and fearless heart he brings in days new light

For brave men know that living square is doing what is right

And never letting darkness block their brilliant sight

 Cowboy Logan has a grand place in the rodeo in the sky

Where all bucking broncos salute as they pass each other by

For Logan is a good lad and you never need wonder why

“Logan is our hero!” is what his family yells with voices high. 

 

You Are Valuable Because You Are You

I've noticed that when we are meeting someone for the first time we often ask, "What do you do?" It is a common question for most of us are curious about other's occupations.

I've also observed that as my children were growing up many people asked them, "What do you want to do when you grow up?" referring to what career they will choose. Prestige and the ability to earn money are often the result of what we choose to do.

So we grow into adults who focus almost entirely on what we do to feel good about ourselves. If we don't do enough during the day, we feel lazy. If we don't choose the right career or if we do something wrong, we fill our hearts with regret or guilt. More and more we learn to focus the camera lens of our lives on what we do.

The other day I was speaking with someone about my grandson Caleb. When people find out Caleb was born without a brain they often stand in stunned silence. Then they always ask, "What can he do?"

I know the question is innocent and I am not offended but I can't help thinking that they are missing the point. Caleb might not have a brain but he has a heart and soul. If I go through the usual list of important achievements in life, Caleb may not fit the bill. But I always long to explain that it is not what Caleb can do that defines him.

And sometimes the person I'm talking to persists with detailed questions like . . .
"Can he see?"
"Can he move?"
"Can he hear?"
"Can he speak?"
"Can he eat?"
"Can he breathe?"
"Can he think?"

And though the questions are innocent they often leave this impression . . .
"Well if he can't he do anything, I feel so sorry for him and for you. If he can't do anything - what purpose can his life possibly have?"

Because our family was blessed to have Caleb in our lives for seven years we learned that what makes someone valuable is not what they do but who they are. Though Caleb's body made it almost impossible for him to do much of anything in a physical sense, his presence was enough for us. His divine and noble spirit was alive and well inside a body with severe physical limitations yet enhanced spiritual abilities. Caleb spoke to us without language getting in the way. He loved us and we loved him. His soul could light up a whole room.

So the next time you see someone like my grandson Caleb do not ask their family members what they can do. Do not feel sorry for them. Instead say, "Tell me about your child."

And the next time you are thinking dark thoughts about self or others because of something you or they did of failed to do . . . stop.

Allow yourself to feel the love of God. You are not valuable to God or those around you because of what you do or don't do. You are valuable because you are you.

Your existence - your presence - is enough.


And perhaps when we talk to youth we might ask, "Who do you want to be when you grow up?" For it is our inner qualities, like compassion, patience, gentleness, meekness, and love that are the true measures of a meaningful life.Pin It

God's Love Can Make Us All Into Something Beautiful

People often speak to me about past regrets

and constant feelings that they will never be good enough.

Because we all make mistakes

and desire to be a better person than we are,

we can take hope in knowing

that God can take all the experiences of our life

and make us into something beautiful.

We don't have to be perfect to be perfectly loved by our creator.

Instead of constantly obsessing about our past mistakes

and present problems by thinking,

"I'll never be good enough."

or

"What was I thinking?"

or

"I can't do this."

we can choose to view our life experiences with gratitude

and ask ourselves,

"What am I learning?"

We are enough.

We are loved.

No matter where or what we are today

God sees what we can become

and helps us find our wings to fly.Pin It

Mothers and Fathers. . . What You Do Really Matters

If you get discouraged and wonder if what you're doing as a mother or father really matters, consider that your influence will reach out to future generations.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"While resting in a hospital bed after giving birth to my tenth child, I answered a phone call from my oldest daughter.
“Mom,” April gulped, “my back hurts and I can’t walk.”
“Some people feel labor pains that way, “I answered. “Better get over here and get checked.”
“But what if it isn’t labor after all?” my daughter answered. “I don’t want to go to the hospital and have those guys send me home.”
Now I know most mothers and daughters don’t go into labor that close together but that is exactly what happened to April and me. A few minutes and pain pills later, I was in the labor room again, only this time coaching instead of pushing.
I became a new mother for the last time and a new grandmother for the first time so close together it left me panting. My husband and I used to watch our young children growing up and sentimentally lament, “Boy I hope it won’t be too long between the time we have our last child and when our first grandchild is born.” Little did we know.
Experiencing pregnancy, childbirth and new motherhood along with my daughter felt like a mystical linking of generations one moment and a medical experiment gone mad the next. My daughter and I raced each other for the bathroom, craved the same frozen yogurt and kept each other company in the waiting room at the obstetrician’s office. Everybody we met asked us if we’d seen the movie “Father of the Bride Part Two.” Talk about a crazy way to bond.
Yet the moment I saw my grandson enter the word, I was awe struck - like flying without leaving the ground. The circle of life, love and family didn’t end! My baby was having her baby.
There in that labor room as I stroked my daughter’s moist forehead, I realized in the most tender sort of way that everything I’d done as her mother for the past twenty-three years was worth it . . . absolutely everything. Every single moment I’d chosen to spend caring for my child was far more important than anything else I’d determined to do with my life. As I watched my first grandchild enter this world, I knew my part in the creation and development of his mother was my life’s most important work. I understood that the whole purpose of this life was bringing down children from God and helping them find their way back to Him.
Before that moment, I simply could not begin to comprehend the importance of loving someone. It occurred to me that a thousand years from now, my babies would still be rocking their babies and the miracle of life of life and love would go on forever. I also understood that taking part in the creation and development of another human being was the greatest way to give birth to my own best life. I’d never even imagined I could feel so much joy.
Now when I see an exhausted and discouraged mother, I pat them on the back and whisper, “It matters. Everything you are doing for your family matters – so much more than you know.” (taken from "For Every Mother" by Janene Baadsgaard)

BOOK SIGNING For "Healing From Abuse" and "Healing From Neglect"

 

 

 

 

 I will be signing copies of my book "Healing From Abuse" at the Cedar Fort warehouse and store in Springville at 2373 W. 700 S. on Friday April 12th from 11-2. There will also be a way for you to pre-order a copy of "Healing From Neglect" at the event and I can sign a label to attach to the inside when it arrives. Also if you have a copy of one of my other books you want me to sign, please bring it down and I'd be happy to do that. Everything in the warehouse is on sale and there will be free food. Hope you can come. I'd love to see you and visit with you.

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Dear Mothers Everywhere, You're Doing Better Than You Think You Are!

Most information out there that tells mothers something else we should be doing . . . like we don’t already know that. It helps to remember that real life is hectic and trying to do it all is impossible. We women try to do so much but never... give ourselves any credit and or celebrate our efforts. Mothers, in particular, are way too hard on themselves. In fact every mother I know is infected with a dreaded disease called . . . maternal guilt.

Seven deadly maternal guilt symptoms include:


1. No matter how much we have done right, we always focus on what we’ve done wrong.


2. Taking blame for all our children’s poor choices.


3. Believing that we have the power to stop bad things from happening to our families.


4. Thinking we should be able to handle everything.


5. The inability to slow down, do less and learn the fine art of muddling.


6. Never feeling good enough, smart enough, thin enough, or attractive enough.


7. Placing our health and well-being on the bottom of our things-to-do list.

Remedies for Maternal Guilt:

Celebrate who you are right now at every stage and age of motherhood by awarding yourself with one of these mother school degrees:

A.O.A. Associates of Amateurism We earn this degree when we stop feeling sorry for ourselves.

B.O.B Bachelor of Blunders We earn this degree when we stop being SO hard on ourselves.

M.O.M. Masters of Muddling We earn this degree when we master the fine art of muddling.

D.O. H. Doctorate of Humility We earn this degree when we give ourselves permission to learn and grow from our mistakes just like our children do.

Instead of focusing on how your children turn out,
focus on how YOU turn out.
Hang in there and keep smiling -
you're doing better than you think you are.

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Sharing Great Times With My Family

I was able to attend the Young Women's Broadcast
 with my oldest daughter April
and my youngest daughter Alisa.
That is the SLC temple in the background
where I was married and sealed to the love of my life,
my sweetheart Ross.

I loved watching the school play at my local elementary school
where my grandson Bradley played the part of Prince Charming.

I

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Poem For A THREE-YEAR-OLD

ANDREW IS THREE

by

Grandma Baadsgaard

Happy Birthday Andrew

I love you so very much.

Thanks for coming to my house on your birthday.

Here's a poem I wrote just for you.

 

Andrew is three - so you better see
While two was just great, Andrew can’t wait
So up he grows from his head to his toes
Then takes a tumble on a bee that is bumble
And squishes tomatoes and grabs mashed potatoes

 Andrew is three – so you better see
That three is the best ‘cause there’s no time to rest
He glides in the swing till imagination takes wing
And runs down the street and sneaks lots of treats
Then shrieks to the sky as the birds pass him by

 Andrew is three – so you better see
He’s the king of the hill and the hero of real
When it’s time for his bath he finds inner wrath
Then fights dragons rare in all of his bare
For he can’t sit still without a making a spill

 Andrew is three - so you better see
He plops his sleepy head on his blanket for a bed
Mom kisses him goodnight and turns out the light
Then the moon begins to rise just as Andrew sighs
Then his eyes are half-mast before dreams are cast

Andrew is three – so you better see
He needs to be hugged and tickled on the rug
Then poof he is grown – and soon starts to roam

Who was all yours today, leaves to find his own way

         So shout hooray, for he’s all yours today!

 

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Blog Tour Interview for HEALING FROM NEGLECT

I have a blog tour going going on right now. That means different web sites are reviewing my soon to be published book and providing reviews and give-aways.
Here is the link to the latest one.
http://ilovetoreadandreviewbooks.blogspot.com/2013/04/healing-from-neglect.html
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Interview and BOOK GIVE-AWAY For "Healing From Neglect"

Here's a link to an interview and a great BOOK GIVE-AWAY for my new book HEALING FROM NEGLECT . . . When Those We Love Don't Love Us.
http://www.iamareader.com/2013/03/healing-from-neglect.html
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Beautiful Video of The Last Days of Jesus Christ

If you're looking for a beautiful video on the last days of Jesus Christ to watch as part of your Easter observance click here.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bAuaSpJ7zGs

If you're looking for words of encouragement click here.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=coef8G5ax6E

Celebrating Easter In Your Own Backyard

One year I visited the Holy Land with a burning desire to walk the paths where the Savior walked. I was studying the Old and New Testament and felt drawn to Israel in a youthful search for deeper spirituality. During the week I was a volunt...eer at an archaeological dig in the Negev desert. On weekends, I traveled Israel discovering the sights I’d only read about in the Bible.
Even though it has been decades since that trip, each Easter I recall the specific moment when the whole world became my garden. Let me tell you how it happened.
One weekend, I spent the day at the Wailing Wall and in the crowded markets of Old Jerusalem. I was hot, tired, hungry and didn’t look forward to going back to sleep at the youth hostel where I was staying because it was filthy and dark. I longed for a place to think, to gather my disappointed desires and try to make sense of why I came here.
I remember walking through Damascus Gate, crossing the road and hiking uphill. That is when I found it - an oasis in this sea of chaos – the Garden Tomb. I stepped inside and sighed. This quiet secluded walled in Garden was filled with ancient trees that created welcome shade as they swayed in the late afternoon breeze. Multi-colored flowers lined the walkways. I took my time exploring. When I found the tomb, carved from the stone hillside in one section of the garden, I bowed and looked inside. The cold cavern was empty. A sudden electric soul reverence ran down my spine as I contemplated what had happened in this place. I stepped back in wonder. Still visible were the grooves where a large stone was once rolled in front. I never wanted to leave.
Later I climbed a hill in back of the garden and looked toward Golgotha where Jesus is said to have been crucified. That is when I heard the stark noises of heavy traffic, shouts of angry bus drivers and smelled exhaust fumes in the air. The abrupt contrast was disappointing. Even here in this holy place there was no lasting peace. I walked back into the garden and sat down on a bench to think. Before I came to Israel I didn’t know that every significant event in the life of Christ had several sites claiming to be the real place where the occurrence took place. I felt disillusioned and disappointed. Why did something so significant have to be so confusing and commercial?
That was the moment when I glanced up and noticed the sun slowly slipping into the horizon. Quite unexpectedly a sudden shimmering glow cast a heavenly light on everything around me transforming the garden into a dreamlike state. It took my breath away. Then, just as suddenly, the golden light was gone, the air grew cold and shadows inched across the garden floor. An unexpected gust of wind sent leaves twirling to the ground. The day was ending.

Then, as if I was awakening from a deep sleep, I perceived a divine pattern . . . light and dark . . . spring and winter . . . morning and night . . . birth and death. I understood that even as this day was ending, another would begin at dawn. Even though the leaves were falling, they would form the earth through which new life would emerge next spring. I would die; yet I would live. That is the moment when I realized it wasn’t the site that was important but the event that took place there.

I understood that whether I was in the Garden Tomb in Israel - or in my own back yard – the miracle of Easter was going on everywhere around and inside me every day. The whole earth was indeed holy land - a witness of God’s great love for all of us.
Now each spring as we celebrate Easter my thoughts return to the Garden Tomb and the gentle awakening I experienced there. For now I know we don’t need to be in the Holy Land to experience the significance of what took place there. The miracles of Easter are manifest all around us every day - and most wonderfully, within ourselves.Pin It

TAKING CARE OF THOSE WHO CAN'T TAKE CARE OF THEMSELVES IS A MISSION WORTH OUR BEST EFFORTS

I remember the years when I was basically home bound with many young children. Sometimes I wondered if I should be doing something more important “out there.” On my hard days I had moments when I wondered if I was throwing myself away for c...hildren who didn’t seem to appreciate anything I was doing for them. When we are mothers of young children we are generally young ourselves or at least new to being a parent. It is not easy to painstakingly extract our selfishness. So we hang on as long as possible, hoping someone will eventually appreciate all we do. One day it dawns on us – the eyes God see everything and that’s enough.
Most of our behavior with our young children is a private experience even they won’t remember – consciously. Yet there is another memory of the heart – a deep personal feeling we carry inside that tells us if we are loveable or unlovable, safe or unsafe and whether or not we can trust others. We learn these things from our parents and we take those feelings with us when we leave home.
On those hard days when the baby is screaming, the toddler paints his entire bedroom in petroleum jelly, and the preschooler gouges the new sofa with a butcher knife it’s hard not to feel like you’re going to go crazy. Feeling overwhelmed is a chronic parenting condition. It’s not easy to work very hard every day without pay, recognition or reward for little people who throw up all over us, scream in our face and throw things at our head. It’s not easy to fix nutritious meals that mostly wind up on the floor. It’s not easy to clean a house that is being destroyed even as we work. It’s not easy to be romantic with our spouse when we haven’t even had a chance to take a shower all day. It’s not easy to be a parent of young children. It takes years to grow into our role.
We know we’re making progress when we finally stop feeling sorry for our self. We’re ready for the next school in parenthood when our life becomes less about us and more about them. Our perspective shifts. We realize being a child isn’t easy either. Hey, it’s not easy being three. Try climbing up on a commode that is twice as big as you are. When we begin to look at our children the way an educated art patron in a museum looks at Michelangelo’s David or the Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa, we will see them as the masterpieces they really are.
Taking care of those who can’t take care of themselves is a mission – a calling and worthy our best effort. If we work very hard and give our all to our parenting career, our children might turn out well and they might not. We are an important part of our child’s life, but we can’t realistically take all the credit or blame for the adult our child becomes. We only have to take the blame and credit for how we turn out.
No matter how many battles we fight on the home front, our name will not appear on a monument. We will work our whole life for something we never see finished. But if we make the necessary sacrifices, parenthood will be a personal cure for self-centeredness and an anecdote for false pride. The primary relationship we have in this life is with our self. There is nothing like parenthood to make us face our self and seek divine help. Then when we lay our head on our pillow at night, we may not see the dream of CEO printed on our office door or visions of mansions and luxury cars. We will see the radiant faces of our children and hear the echo of their laughter.
(taken from "For Every Mother" by Janene Baadsgaard)

"Look Mom! It's Jesus!"

Once I was holding my young daughter’s hand while we passed an ill-kept homeless man on the street. He had a long beard, dirty clothes, and smelled of body odor, liquor and tobacco. I lowered my eyes and kept my distance, hoping he wouldn’t ask me for a handout. My young daughter, on the other hand, stopped then suddenly dropped my hand and ran over to the man.
She stood perfectly still - starring up at him  in wide-eye awe.
Then she said, “Look Mom! It’s Jesus!”

The homeless man gently tilted his head in acknowledgement and smiled back at my little girl. Then he glanced up at me with a glimmer in his eyes. We were both humbled at the reverent way my daughter had seen him.

Each of us has great value and worth. When we learn to see each other and ourselves through the loving eyes of a child we will rediscover the infinite beauty of each son and daughter of God. 

The Robot Who Needed a Personality

The Robot Who Needed A Personality

by

Grandma  Baadsgaard

Happy Birthday Sammy.

I hope you know how much I love yo

Keep dreaming and building

and your wishes will come true.

             Sam gathered up a pile of gears, wires and pieces of scrap metal in his garage. Then he found some batteries. Next he carefully placed all his supplies into a shoe box. He walked into the kitchen where his mother was making soap on the stove with her safety goggles.  

“Do not bother me,” Sam said to his noisy family. “I am going to make a robot and I need my brain to focus. So don’t bother me until I come out of my bedroom. Scientists need to concentrate without distractions.”

Sam’s mother, still stirring the lye mixture, nodded. She understood. But his younger brothers Logan and Liam scratched their heads. They did not know about the vital importance of absolute quiet in a scientist’s laboratory of wonders.

Sam walked into his bedroom then closed and locked the door. First he tried putting his gears and levers together one way, then another. Then he tried hooking up the wires and batteries one way then another.

It wasn’t working.

“AAAHHHHH!” Sam yelled in frustration. “Why can’t I get this robot to work? What am I doing wrong?”

That is when Sam heard someone quietly knocking on his bedroom door. When he opened the door he saw his sister Sophia holding her old doll.

“Yes?” Sam asked. “I thought I told everybody to leave me alone so I can concentrate.”

“I think that you are frustrated,” Sophia answered. “Maybe your robot needs a little personality.”

She handed Sam two popped off buttons for the eyes, a felt smile and two floppy ears from the doll Sam had destroyed when he was in his rocket scientist stage.

“My robot doesn’t need these,” Sam said. “My robot is not a doll.”

“I know that,” Sophie said. “But you never know. Sometimes I think when I go to sleep all my dolls come alive and play around in my room. Maybe it works the same way with robots.”

Sammy rolled his eyes, thanked his sister and closed the door.

“AAHHH!” kept coming from Sam’s room.

Sam worked hard all afternoon until it was supper time. Then his mother knocked on the door.

“Sam, come to supper,” Sam’s mother said through the door. “You’ve been working long enough and you need a break.”

Sam opened the door and followed his mother into the kitchen shaking his head. He saw her home-made soap lined up on the counter.

“It just won’t work,” Sam said. “I’ve tried everything and it just won’t work.”

“Well, why don’t you sleep on it and try again tomorrow,” Sam’s mother said.

Sam nodded. Then he ate supper and went outside to play. When it was time for bed, he put on his pajamas, brushed his teeth and climbed into bed. He saw his lifeless robot standing in the corner of his room. He was almost going to put a face on him from his sister’s doll but he thought twice and decided not to. Then he fell asleep.

When Sam woke up in the morning he saw his robot in the corner of the room with two button eyes, a felt smile and two floppy ears looking back at him. Sam rubbed his eyes and looked again.

Then he scrunched his eyebrows and said, “Where did you get that face?”

Then he rubbed his eyes again and walked over to his sister’s room where he found Sophia playing with her dolls in her three doll houses.

“Sophia, did you put your doll face on my robot after I went to sleep?”

“No,” she answered. “I went to bed before you did remember.”

Sam walked back into his room and picked up his robot. Then he turned the switch and set the smiling robot on the floor. The robot walked across the room, bumped into the wall, turned around and walked back toward him before it stopped.

“Mom!” Sammy yelled, “My robot works.”

Sam’s mother and father, his sister and two brothers ran into his room and watched while Sam wound it up again.

“See, I told you so,” Sophia said. “Even robots need personality.”

Sammy lowered his eyebrows and began thinking of way to stay up all night so he could see what really happens in his bedroom when he falls asleep at night.

“Maybe you’re right,” Sammy answered.

Sammy’s father and two brothers scratched their heads. But Sammy’s mother and sister winked at Sammy because now he knew the secret.

Magic is everywhere, if you just believe.

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