The Holiness of Everyday Life

There is a holiness in everyday life. Sometimes we think that we can't enjoy our days until everything is running smoothly  . . . no problems or cares. Yet it is in those very daily challenges that we become more than we were . . . where our spirits are stretched or deepened by a loving God. The problems we face every day don't get in the way - they are the way. How do we learn patience without life experiences that try our souls? How do we develop empathy until our hearts have been broken?  

New Cooking Book For Kids

Christina Dymock recently sent me a PDF copy of her new book titled Young Chefs . . . Cooking skills and recipes for kids. I usually don't review cook books but I really liked this one.Why? This book has recipes so simple even I might try them. While most of my children are grown, I usually have a lot of grandchildren running around the house looking for something to do. Cooking together is a great way to link the generations.
My favorite quote from the author is, "I like to think of a new recipe as a science experiment. Not all experiments work the first time. (She must have been peeking in my windows.)Sometimes cakes fall flat and eggs get burned. When that happens, don't get discouraged. Figure out what went wrong and try again."

The book has clear simple directions and pictures of the recipe when it is finished. I also like the tool box where it shows everything you need to assemble before you begin.

This is what the author said about her new book:

"You know those papers they make you write in elementary school that start with: When I grow up I want to be a ______ ? Well, I can’t ever remember what I wrote in that little blank. I have friends that knew they wanted to be writers the first time they held a pen in their hand. I guess the closest thing I came to that was the first time I licked the frosting off a beater. (Hmmmm frosting)

 Now I pass those beaters to one of my four lucky children. (Usually the one who has all their chores done. J) My kids were the inspiration for this book. I wanted to write something that adults could use to teach kids different cooking skills. Young Chefs was a whole family effort as I observed my kids in the kitchen, gauged my stress level while handing over the oven mitts, and baked to the oldies." 

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Solitude

There is no clear distinction between mind and spirit, but there is a quality of mind that is more than thought and the process of thought;  this quality involves feelings and the wholeness in which the life of man has its being . . .There is the rest of detachment and withdrawal when the spirit moves into the depths of the region of the Great Silence, where world weariness is washed away and blurred vision is once again prepared for the focus of the long view. . .Here God speaks without words and the self listens without ears. Here at last, glimpses of the meaning . . . of one's own life are seen with all their striving. (Howard Thurman)Pin It

Three Generations of Scouters!

Here are three generations of scouters! This is my husband Ross, my son John and my grandson Joshua at scout camp.

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Healing From Abuse and Neglect

My husband Ross and I will be speaking about healing from abuse and neglect this Sunday, June 2nd at 7:30 p.m. at 180 South 10th East in Spanish Fork, Utah.I will be bringing a few copies of my books "Healing From Abuse" and "Healing From Neglect" to share for any one who is interested in receiving a copy.
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DOWN HOME with Granny B . . . Choose Laughter

DOWN HOME with Granny B
When you're a grandma you know that most of the things you worried about when you were younger didn't actually happen. You appreciate people who help you see life upside down and inside out. If you're not familiar with the work of Steven Wright you might want to be. He's the famous erudite scientist who once said: "I woke up one morning, and all of my stuff had been stolen and replaced by exact duplicates."

Here are a few more of his gems:

... 82.7% of all statistics are made up on the spot.

A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory.

The early bird may get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.

Depression is merely anger without enthusiasm.

When everything is coming your way, you're in the wrong lane.

What happens if you get scared half to death twice?

My mechanic told me, "I couldn't repair your brakes, so I made your horn louder.

Experience is something you don't get until just after you need it.

To steal ideas from one person is plagiarism; to steal from many is research.

If your car could travel at the speed of light, would your headlights work?


One of my favorite people Marjorie Hinckley once said, "I'd rather laugh than cry because crying gives me a headache."

So if you're having a hard day, choose laughter.

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Birthday Story For An Eleven-Year-Old

EMILY’S MAGIC GLASSES

by

Grandma Baadsgaard

Happy 11^th birthday Emily!

I hope you never forget how much I love you.

Having you for my granddaughter makes my world a golden place to be.

               When Emily got her new metal rimmed glasses, the fuzzy world around her suddenly came into focus. She could read what the teacher wrote on the blackboard instead of guessing or asking her neighbor. The leaves on trees changed from a green blurry glob to individual leaves rustling in the breeze. It was a whole new word and Emily liked it.

            Pretty soon the newness wore off and Emily forgot what the world looked like before she got glasses. In fact, one day Emily was pretty annoyed with her spectacles. First, she accidentally sat on them while she was getting dressed and bent them so they wouldn’t sit straight on her nose. When she left for school, it was raining so her glasses got all fogged up and covered in spots. Then later, one of the kids at school said some saucy thing to make fun of her.

            “I don’t like my glasses anymore,” Emily said the next morning as she was eating breakfast.

            “What?” her mother asked. “I thought you loved them.”
            “Not now,” Emily said.
            Later that morning, Emily’s mother noticed something peculiar.
            “Emily,” her mother said as Emily walked through the front door to catch the bus, “the rims on your glasses look a little dark.”
            Emily shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes. When she got to school, Emily noticed several of her friends talking and laughing in the hallway.
            They’re probably saying bad things about me, Emily thought.
            After the spelling test later that morning Emily looked at her score.
            AHHHHH I missed one! Emily thought. Why do I always have to miss one?
            At lunch Emily sat by herself.
            Nobody wants to sit by me, Emily thought. What is wrong with me?
            When Emily climbed on the bus, she noticed the bus driver looked grumpy.
            My bus driver is mean, Emily thought.
            While she walked home from the bus stop, she noticed birds on the power line.
            Oh no, they’ll probably poop on me, Emily thought.
            When she got home from school, Emily saw her sisters playing in the front yard.
            They make too much noise, Emily thought. I just want to be by myself.
            At supper Emily’s father looked at her in perplexed surprise.
            “Emily, why do you look so glum?” her father asked. “And the rim on your glasses, why do they look black?”
            Emily took them off and looked at them. Sure enough the metallic rims were black.
            “I don’t know,” Emily answered.
            “Maybe the rims on your glasses are like those special lenses that change color according to how much light they are exposed to,” Emily’s mother answered.
            “I don’t think so,” Emily answered. “It’s not bright in here.”
            When Emily went to bed that night she looked at her black rimmed glasses and sighed.
            “I guess it has just been one of those days.” She sighed.
            The next morning Emily woke up, reached over to grab her glasses on the nightstand and walked into the bathroom.
            “I don’t like feeling glum,” Emily said to her droopy reflection in the mirror. “I’m going to make this a better day.”
            That day when Emily got to school she noticed her friends talking in the hallway.
            I bet they’re saying good things about me, Emily thought.
            Then she walked over to her friends with a big smile on her face. Her friends smiled back. Then she noticed how nice her friend’s hair looked.
            “Wow, your hair looks awesome,” Emily said.
            “Why, thank you,” said her friend. “I had it hair-cut last night. I didn’t think anyone would notice.”
            After she took her reading test, Emily looked at her score. She missed one.
            Wow, I got 99 problems correct, she thought. Good work Emily.
            When it was time for lunch, Emily noticed the new girl sitting by herself. She walked over to her and sat down.
            “Can I sit by you?” Emily said to the new girl.
            “Sure!” the new girl answered. “I was hoping someone would do that.”
            On the bus ride home, Emily noticed how tired the bus driver looked.
            I bet it is hard to be a bus driver, Emily thought.
            “Thank you for the ride! Have a nice day!” Emily said cheerfully to the bus driver while she was getting off the bus.
            “Why thank you,” the bus driver said. “Nobody ever thanks me.”
            While Emily was walking home from the bus stop, she noticed birds sitting on the power line. She stopped and listened.
            I love to hear birds sing, Emily thought.
            When Emily got home from school that day, she saw her noisy sisters playing in the yard.
            I’m so lucky to have sisters to play with, Emily thought.
            While her mother was fixing supper, Emily noticed that she was trying to balance her baby brother on her hip and stir at the same time.
            “Can I take Daniel?” Emily asked reaching out for her brother.
            “Thank you Emily,” her mother answered. “That would really help me.”
             While they were sitting around the table at dinner, Emily’s father looked at Emily and noticed how happy she looked.
            “Emily, the rims on your glasses are gold today,” her father said. “And you’re smiling. What happened?”
            Emily grinned from ear to ear.
            “Maybe your rims are like those lenses that adjust according to the light,” Emily’s mother said again.
            “You’re right Mom,” Emily answered, “except with these rims, the light comes from inside me.

                                                     We decide how to see.

                                                Our thoughts create a world

                                                                       that is a dark
                                                              or a golden place to be.
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As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles (Walt Whitman)

This winter was particularly cold, long and dark . . .
so spring has graced my life with renewed appreciation.
The scent of licacs down the lane -
the apple blossoms on the tree
give me hope.
As the seasons pass through my life I have learned
every dark night is followed by morning light.

My weeping birch redresses in green finery. 

Life does not get in the way; it shows us the way. There is a gentle holiness in every day life if we listen. Each blossom whispers of an abundant harvest . . . each problem we face whispers of coming wisdom and peace.
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Newborn Photos

Presenting Gideon Michael Cope - my newest grandchild.

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Oh Grandma!

DOWN HOME WITH GRANNY B
In my younger days I used to have what I now lovingly refer to as grandma envy. I figured the life of a grandma was a piece of cake. I mean as soon as the baby needs a diaper change or starts to cry, you hand them ba...ck to mom . . . right? When your grown children ask you to do something you don't want to do all you have to do is tell them you are too busy darning your false teeth and flossing your socks . . . right?

Well now that I am a grandma I realize that life on the other side of the hill is not quite the way I had it figured. One day my precious little granddaughter approached me with the dearest little outstretched arms. Then she looked up at me, smiled and sweetly said, "I like my other grandma better because she buys me more presents."

When I was younger I planned to spend my mature years eating icecream for breakfast, wearing sweat pants and taking a nap whether I felt like it or not. You see life always looks greener on the other side of parenthood - but the fact is . . . problems don't go away . . . they simply change . . . into new problems.

I like what George Burns said, "With a positive attitude and a little bit of luck, there's no reason you can't live to be a hundred. Once you've done that, you've really got it made, because very few people die over a hundred."

My friend told me about a recent day babysitting her grandson. After the grandson ran into the street right in front of a moving car, she chased him down the road, grabbed him by the hair and frantically yelled, "Don't you ever, ever do that again!"

Bug-eyed, her shaking grandson looked up into her red panting face and replied, 'Oh Grandma! I think you need to take a nap!"

So hang in there all your frazzled parents. Some day you will have silver in your hair, gold in your teeth and lead in your pants . . . and that is what a rich life is all about.

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Birthday Story For A Six-Year-Old

WHEN LIBBY DANCES

by
Grandma Baadsgaard
Happy sixth Birthday Libby.
I hope you know how much I love you

            
             Libby is fabulously captivating when she dances.

            When Libby hears music, the melody moves deep inside her. Then the song travels through her until it reaches her fingers and her toes.

Libby begins . . .   

stretching

gliding

twirling

dipping

rising

soaring

One afternoon at Grandma’s house, Libby’s sister Emily played a melody so entrancing that a hush fell over the chaos of chattering in the living room. Sleepy grandparents, joking uncles, emotional aunts and wrestling cousins suddenly stopped and listened.

           

Then Libby stepped into the living room dressed in a purple satin dress. She stood quietly in the middle of room. No one was expecting a grand performance but Libby’s posture and poise held the bearing of royalty.  

“Oh, Libby dear,” Grandma urged from the sofa, “will you dance for us?”

Libby listened carefully until the music flowing from her sister’s fingers circled like star dust inside, around, above and beneath her. Then Libby’s arms rose like soft wings. Gentle lilting music flowed through her like a thousand fairy wings. The mystical melody spun her higher and higher in a spiral of movement. Falling stars and soft breezes whispered through Libby’s outstretched arms and graceful fingers.

sailing

swaying

lingering

spinning

flying

whirling

As Libby danced she summoned forth long forgotten memories. Grandma and Grandpa remembered whirling together on the dance floor at their high school junior prom. Uncomfortable uncles remembered their knightly duties in a long ago club house war. Adoring aunts remembered their first kiss outside on a starlit night. Combative cousins didn’t know why they wanted to stop wrestling, be quiet and watch.   

As the family watched Libby dance, they simply could not hold back their spontaneous applause. Like a choir of angels rejoicing on cue, Libby’s grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins joined in a chorus of hand clapping to hail the queen . . . the magnificent gift of Libby.

Flushed and glowing Libby smiled then bowed.

Someday, if you are very fortunate, you too might to see a little girl in a purple satin dress dancing in the living room on a lazy Sunday evening. And then you will know for sure that there is still great delight and enchantment in this world.

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GRANDMA STORIES

When you become a grandmother, you search for ways to help each grandchild feel unique and loved. Presents at birthdays and Christmas are nice, but I found myself wanting to do something more. I longed to give each grandchild something that would last. Toys and games are soon broken and forgotten. I asked myself over and over, "How can I be certain that each grandchild knows how precious they are and how much I love them?"

When you are a grandma, you know the time you have left to be alive is limited and precious. So that is what I decided to give each grandchild on their birthday. . . the gift of my time  . . . thinking and pondering about them.

What are her interests? What is his greatest fear? What are her individual gifts? What would delight him? Then I carry this grandchild around in my heart for weeks trying to decide what story or poem is just right for them.

The gift at the end of that process is a story or poem that I write for them and then read to them along with a copy I leave with them so they can take it out and read it for the rest of their lives. As each grandchild listens to a story where they are the star or main character, you should see their eyes light up. That magical moment is the gift I give myself.

As I grow older, I have rediscovered the pleasure of reading or reciting simple stories written for children. Fairy tales, fanciful poems and super hero creeds infuse my air like star dust, tiny pieces of light in the darkness.







So to my children and grandchildren I say . . . though there are many of you, there is only one you. Each of you has a place in my heart that no one else can take. Your mother and grandmother loves you deeply because you are you. No one can take your place. You are my diamonds and rubies, my foreign travel, my mansion on the hill, my place by the sea. You mean everything to me.

WINKING Is A Secret Code For Love

"WINKING" IS SECRET CODE IN MY FAMILY
In my family we have a secret code to communicate our love for each other. We wink.

For example, when one of us is about... to perform or speak, we look for a family member’s face in the crowd. Then we wink at each other. Closing one eye and winking is our secret code for saying, “I love you. You can do it. You’re wonderful.”

When my grandson Caleb was born into our family. He must have known before birth that he would never be able to speak to us because he was born with one eyelid permanently closed. So, he was always “winking” at us, always communicating, “I love you. You can do it. You’re wonderful.”
Caleb had one eye lid permanently closed because he is missing one of his eyes . . . he is also missing his brain. All the doctors said he would die soon after birth. They were wrong. He was a medical miracle. The doctors said he couldn’t see, hear, speak, think or move. Those who knew and loved Caleb understood he had his own unique way of experiencing the world and communicating his love to those around him.
After Caleb was born the hospice people told us to buy a burial plot and continually warned us of his imminent death. We soon learned you can not live well in a state of fear. We decided we could spend Caleb’s entire life anxious and scared he might die at any moment, or we could celebrate each day we were blessed to have him with us. In the beginning, my daughter April celebrated Caleb’s birthday every week instead of every year with balloons and cupcakes because we simply did not know how long we would have him with us. We stopped the cupcakes after we gained ten pounds, but the celebrating went on.
We all prayed for a miracle when we first learned about Caleb’s condition. We got one. Caleb’s birth, life and mission had a deep and lasting impact on our lives. His spirit, eternal identity and most of all the loving, individual relationship he had with each of us was truly a miracle. Because of Caleb we know that each of us has a divine purpose and that the physical body is a sacred gift we should never take for granted. We better understand the worth of a soul and the resiliency of the human spirit.
Caleb’s older brother Matthew said, “Grandma. The doctors said Caleb was going to die, but he didn’t. That’s the first miracle I ever saw!”
Sometimes the only intervention that could get Caleb’s heart rate up was when his older brothers Josh and Matty crawled in his crib, hugged him and sang, “I am a Child of God.”

Caleb's life mattered.

People in my daughter's neighborhood often knocked on her door and asked if they can spend time with Caleb. Why? Being with Caleb gave people peace and joy. Every time I was with Caleb I felt a little closer to heaven. In a busy world Caleb invited us to slow down and listen. Caleb communicated soul to soul. You couldn't hear what he had to say if you don't stop and listen with your heart.

Caleb was our "wink" from heaven. Our family's tradition of winking at each other to show our love, appreciation and confidence is now spreading around the world. Please join us in our effort to keep Caleb's mission alive. Even though Caleb was never able to utter a single word he taught us all how to love.
So the next time you're having a bad day, remember Caleb and our family's secret code. Then look in the mirror or at the next person you meet . . . and "wink". You are loved. You are wonderful. You can do it.Pin It

I'm a New Grandma!

My grandson Gideon Michael Cope was born yesterday.

Holding him in my arms was a piece of heaven.

What a wonderful Mother's Day gift for my daughter Arianne.

HAPPY MOTHERS DAY to All Woman Who Choose to Mother

When I was twenty-two years old, I celebrated my first Mother's Day as the terrified, brand-new mother of a three-week-old premature baby with jaundice. I'll never forget standing in church to receive my very first Mother's Day potted plant. I took that healthy, thriving plant home and promptly murdered it. Panicked, I was certain that the deader-than-a-doornail plant was a barometer of my mothering abilities.
I still can't believe that my first baby survived my perfectionist craziness. Back then, I had the foolish notion that real mothers were saints or angels. I've since learned that angels and saints are just people who take themselves lightly. So should mothers.
I heard a pregnant mother say in church one Mother's Day, "All you old ladies always say you're glad you're not raising your children today. You say the world is so awful. Well, I want you to stop it. You're scaring me to death."
"Don't worry, dear," an elderly lady answered, patting the young pregnant woman on the shoulder. "My grandmother used to say the same thing to me fifty years ago."

When you're a first-time expectant woman, mothers who have been through childbirth love to recite their most horrific stories of marathon labors to scare you to death. When you're a walking zombie trying desperately to soothe a newborn, more experienced parents tend to say things like, "They're only babies once. Just enjoy them, dear." When you're on the brink of a nervous breakdown with a house full of insomniac toddlers down with the chicken pox, older parents say, "Just wait till you have teenagers. You aint' see nothing yet." When you're battling fire-breathing teenagers, older parents say, "Don't wait for the children to leave home before you get a life, because . . . they come back!"
Younger mothers think their older peers have grown senile and forgotten the hard parts. Older mothers think their young peers will soon regret not having enjoyed their children while they still had them home to tuck into bed each night. The unwritten code of maternal martyrdom states, "All other mothers must have it easier than I do, because if I really believed things were going to get worse, I wouldn't get out of bed."
In fact, if we really knew what was ahead, we'd probably avoid making the very choices that ultimately bring us the most joy. Motherhood doesn't get easier as we go along, it just gets different. In truth, older mothers look back at younger mothers with a certain tenderness only experience can bestow. Perhaps it is time to stop comparing the hardness of our lives and start loving each other. It is time to appreciate and celebrate each woman's mothering contribution.

Though not every woman can have children, every woman can mother. Though nobody has this nurturing business all figured out, we can collectively relax and enjoy the learning process. Though we often make mistakes, we can feel greater peace knowing we can try, fail, and try again. As we move from one mothering season to another, we should celebrate our progress. A mother's love ignites the forces of good and changes the world one soul at a time.

One quiet day when we have grown old, we will realize we are not the same person we once were, because once you learn to truly love one human being completely, loving everybody else comes so much easier.
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