My Hero

I ran a race along side my daughter last week. I watched April push Caleb’s stroller in the 5K run with a smile and a friendly wave to each person she saw along the way.

April has been running a marathon with her son for almost five years now. Because Caleb was born without a brain she has lovingly cared for him 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Only those close to her know the hills and valleys she has to face - the constant life and death struggle it is to keep her son alive.

April has been Caleb’s legs so he can run, his voice so he can speak, his hands reaching out to others when he can’t move.

As her mother I watch from the stands in awe.

April you are my hero.

A Decorated Veteran Dies on Veteran's Day

Today I looked over my fence into my neighbor's yard and saw a sea of American flags waving in the breeze. It was a magical moment - a stirring tribute - a deeply touching display of honor for Bill Rawlings by his children.

Bill died yesterday . . . on Veteran's Day. I can't think of a more fitting benediction to a man who served his country with honor. Bill was in most of the major battles in Europe during World War II and saw things no man should have to see. What kept him going and gave him the will to survive was a sweetheart waiting stateside. Ann wrote to him several times a week. They'd met in junior high and it was love at first sight. If he made it home alive they were going to get married. Bill made it home. They raised seven wonderful children together.

Now there are 86 flags standing stately in Bill's yard, each representing one year of his life and 5 more for each of the major campaigns he fought in.

Bill has been in frail health for several years. But he has been determined to stay alive so he could take care of his sweetheart.

I think God looked down on this couple who had cared for each other with such tenderness for so long and granted their greatest wish . . . that they wouldn't have to be separated for long. Ann died two weeks ago.

Not many couples get to leave this life so close together. Not many honored veterans die on Veteran's Day. Not many couples have such a storybook ending to a rich and beautiful life.

I love you Bill and Ann. I'll miss you.

Sophia and the Diamond Bracelet

Once upon a time there was a little girl named Sophia who loved everything sparkly. One day Sophia and her mother were walking through a fancy department store. There in a clear glass case, Sophia spied a sparkly bracelet.
“Oh, Mommy, can I have that?” Sophia asked.
“No honey. That is a diamond bracelet. Only rich people can buy that.”
“What’s rich mean?” Sophia asked.
“That means people with lots of money.”
“We have money.”
“Not enough for a diamond bracelet.”
“I wish we were rich,” Sophia said.
That night Sophia took a bath, brushed her teeth and climbed into bed.
When her mother tucked her in, she stroked her forehead and sang Sophia’s favorite song. . .
On the wings of angels God sent you to me
Close your eyes little one - I’ll watch over thee
Sleep tight my precious child, sleep little lamb
Mommy’s always here for you wherever I am
The angels in heaven watch over thy head
Till night time is over – light covers thy head

That night Sophia had a bad dream. Trembling, she slipped from her blankets and tip-toed into her mother’s bedroom.
“Mommy,” Sophia said, “I had a scary dream.”
“I know just what to do,” her mother said. “First we need a soft blanket and Grandma’s rocking chair.”
Sophia took her mother’s warm hand as they walked into the front room.
“Wait, just one minute,” Sophia’s mother said as she opened the front door and moved the rocking chair out onto the front porch.
Sophia was puzzled. Her mother had never moved their rocking chair outside.
“Sophia,” her mother whispered as she grabbed a blanket. “Are you ready?”
Sophia nodded unsure what was going to happen next. Her mother wrapped Sophia up tight in a soft blanket like a cocoon with only her face peeking out. Then she carried her outside into the dark night. They both snuggled deep into the rocking chair. Then Sophia’s mother rocked her back and forth, back and forth. Before long Sophia stopped trembling. She felt cozy. Each time they rocked back and forth Sophia could hear Grandma’s rocking chair creek. Back and forth, back and forth they rocked together until Sophia’s breathing slowed and every part of her body felt warm.
“Do you know why Grandma’s rocking chair is special?” her mother asked.
“Why?” Sophia asked.
“Once when I was a little girl I had the croup and I couldn't breathe. My mommy bundled me up until only my face was peeking out and then she brought me outside and held me close in this rocking chair. She rocked me back and forth, back and forth until I could breathe better.”
“Were you scared?” Sophia asked.
“Yes, I was scared,” Sophia’s mother answered. “My mother said the cold air helped me breathe better. But I knew it was my mommy and the stars.”
“Stars?” Sophia asked.
“While she rocked me, my mommy told me to look up. I saw thousands of sparkly lights in the black sky. She told me those lights were angels watching over little children. She told me God lets mothers who love their children watch over them always even when they live far apart. Those stars are mother’s eyes winking at their children just to let them know they’ll always be there and they’ll always love them.”
Sophia looked up into the black sky and saw countless twinkling lights.
“They look like diamonds,” Sophia said.
Sophia’s mother smiled as a happy idea came into her heart. Then she winked at her little daughter and sang her favorite song again as they rocked back and forth.
And as she sang, Sophia watched the sky and all the mothers winking at their children. Sophia fell asleep listening to her mother whisper, “I love you Sophia. I’ll love you forever.”
The next thing Sophia remembered was waking up in her own bed. She ran quickly to the front room looking for her mother. The first thing she saw was Grandma’s rocking chair. Then Sophia saw something sparkling in the early morning light. She rubbed her eyes and looked again. There on the seat of the rocking chair was a bracelet filled with tiny clear gems winking at her.
“Are they really diamonds?” Sophia asked as she placed the bracelet on her wrist.
“Close enough,” her mother answered.
“We’re rich,” Sophia said whirling in the circle.
“Yes,” her mother answered. “So very, very rich.”

Telling Caleb's Story

The following is a newspaper column I wrote for my precious grandson.




In my family we have a secret code to communicate our love for each other when we are out in public. We wink. 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.”
Almost five years ago, 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 is always “winking” at us, always communicating, “I love you. You can do it. You’re wonderful.”
Caleb has one eye lid permanently closed because he is missing one of his eyes . . . and he is also missing his brain. All the doctors said he would die soon after birth. They were wrong. He is a medical miracle. The doctors say he can’t see, hear, speak, think or move. Those who know and love Caleb understand he has 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 and sadness. 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 goes on.
We all prayed for a miracle when we first learned about Caleb’s condition. We got one. Caleb’s birth, life and mission have had a deep and lasting impact on our lives. His spirit, eternal identity and most of all the loving, individual relationship he has with each of us is 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 can get Caleb’s heart rate up is when his older brothers Josh and Matty crawl in his crib, hug him and sing, “I am a Child of God.”

Caleb has a mission. His life matters.

People in my daughter's neighborhood often knock on her door and ask if they can spend time with Caleb. Why? Being with Caleb gives people peace and joy. Every time I'm with Caleb I feel a little closer to heaven. In a busy world Caleb invites us to slow down and listen. Caleb communicates spirit to spirit. You can't hear what he has to say if you don't stop and listen with your heart.

Even though Caleb has never been able to utter a single word he has taught everyone who knows and loves him – all the secrets of a rich and meaningful life.

My Grandson Caleb is in the News

April and Dallan Moody with their four boys Joshua, Matthew, Caleb and Mitchel.


The following article by Michael Rigert was printed in the Daily Herald about my grandson Caleb on Saturday Nov 7th. It is difficult to describe in words how much true joy Caleb has brought into our family. Our whole family took part in this event on Saturday. We were so touched by all the people who came to support us.


"Caleb Moody has been selected as the focus child for three Orem schools' annual benefit run in partnership with Make A Wish Foundation. Four-years old, Caleb was born with hydrocephalus, or water on the brain, but his mother, April Moody said her son is an inspiration to their family.


Spend a few moments with 4-year-old Caleb Moody of Orem and it's easy to recognize there's something special about the little boy born with hydrocephalus, or water on the brain, said his mother, April Moody.

Despite being born with most of his brain missing and having limited physical and mental abilities, Dallan and April Moody say their third of four boys has been a blessing in their family. Because only one of his eyes formed, the family refers to Caleb as their "Wink from Heaven."

"Anyone who meets him can't deny the big spirit he has inside. It's very subtle, the way he communicates, but very real," April Moody said. "It's just a privilege that we get to take care of someone so special and pure."

When Caleb was born, doctors were very skeptical, referred the family to hospice care and guessed he wouldn't live more than a few weeks. But the Moody family took those emotional lemons about Caleb and turned them into lemonade. April Moody said the family chose to live each day they had with Caleb with joy.

"We had a birthday party for him every week," she said.

Today three Orem schools -- Mountain View High School, Lakeridge Junior High and Orem Elementary -- are joining forces as part of their Family Month activities to raise money for the Make-A-Wish Foundation that helps fulfill wishes of terminally ill children and their families. For a sixth consecutive year, the schools are holding a benefit Family Fun Run at Orem Elementary, 400 W. 400 South, to assist Make-A-Wish in ensuring that the wishes of children like Caleb and his family come true.

Carol Jean Bishop, family life commissioner for the Mountain View and Lakeridge PTAs, said the annual event has become something that students and community families rally around. In recent years, upwards of 800 participants have come out for the 1-mile or 5K fun run or walk. Last year's event raised $7,000.

"One way it has helped teenagers in high school and junior high is for them to get out of themselves for a moment," she said. "They see someone disadvantaged who they can help out."

In recent weeks, the student councils at Mountain View and Lakeridge have held Family Fun Run assemblies and rallies to get students excited about helping families like Caleb's. In concert with the Family Month theme, the event also gets families walking or jogging together, Bishop said.

The per person Family Fun Run entry fee, $7 or $5 if pre-registered, is kept purposely low so families can still afford to contribute. And the event itself is aimed at being physically inclusive so that even the very young or senior families members can get involved, she said.

The schools also make individual contributions for music and food, and there is a raffle for prizes donated by local businesses.

What's Caleb's wish? April Moody said she and her husband would like to find a way to set up a special swing, either inside or outside their home, perhaps as part of a playset, where Caleb can enjoy spending time with his family.

"He just loves to be with his brothers, to be rocked, to be outside," she said. "We wanted to find a way the kids can make memories playing together."

April Moody said her family is amazed at and grateful for the public outpouring, from friends and neighbors, to the efforts of the three Orem schools trying to make a real difference in someone's life.

"To show it in such a neat way has touched us to the core," she said. "We are forever changed. My kids are at ages where it's teaching them that wishes really come true. ... I think they're also learning that we can make wishes come true for each other."

Giving Thanks

The other day I was feeling like a martyr – the invisible maid at my house who fixes the meals and cleans up after everybody with little or no thanks. Then I began to wonder. Who are the invisible servants in my life? Who are the people who work hard to make my life pleasant - and I don’t even notice? Who am I forgetting to acknowledge and thank? It didn’t take long before I discovered I too am guilty of not appreciating those who serve me.
That day while I was grinding wheat to make bread, I really looked at the individual kernels. Then I thought about the person who grew, harvested and shipped this nutritious food source to me. Though we will never know each other, I thought about my new found benefactors and thanked them. After I took the hot loaves from the oven, I sliced a steaming hot piece of bread for each of my children. As I spread the butter and honey on top of each slice I thought about the people who had fed and milked the cows and those who gathered and packed the honey. I thought about the bees going from flower to flower - and paused.
A simple slice of homemade bread was available to me through the hard work and generosity of countless others. I thought about the trucker who drove these products to market and the person who stocked the food at the grocery store. I thought about the people who made the road for the truckers. I thought about my husband going to work every day so I could have the money to buy the food. It took an army of people to feed me and my children. Why was I worried about being unappreciated for my simple part in this great chain? I played a small part among the countless people who made a simple meal possible for me and my family every day. It occurred to me - I live off the hard work of others every single day - and I barely notice.
Later in the day I paid attention to each piece of clothing I was wearing and thought about the people who grew the cotton, made the cloth, cut the pattern and sewed the shirt. Then I remembered my whole closet full of clothes all sewn by unseen hands. Someone raised the sheep and produced the wool for my winter coat. Someone raised cattle and produced the leather for my shoes. I’d never even thought about or thanked any of these people.
That night as I observed the deep purples and ambers as the sun dipped into the horizon, I wondered again. How many sunrises and sunsets have I ignored? How many breaths have I taken without a thought to the creator? My life is a gift from an unseen benefactor – who prefers to remain anonymous.
Life’s simplest pleasures are truly gifts to be noticed and appreciated. Whether we perceive our daily blessings and give quiet thanks or not, our unseen benefactors keep the gifts coming. Perhaps the best way to express gratitude for our personal bounty is to do our own work with a little less self pity and a little more joy. At life’s end we will discover the greatest reward we receive for the work we do is not what we get but who we become. Common tasks performed with great love create the kind of riches money can’t buy.

Halloween Fun

The swine flu came to my house for Halloween. Kinda of scary don't you think?

Remembering Ann

My neighbor Ann Rawlings died. She was buried after her funeral yesterday. She is my neighbor . . . and my friend. She and her husband Bill moved in next to me seventeen years ago as a retired couple. I have grown to love them as if they are my own family.
When I walked into the viewing room and saw Bill seated in a chair next to Ann's casket with his head bowed I couldn't hold back the tears.
"I don't know what to do," Bill said while I put my arms around his neck.

Bill and Ann Rawlings truly love each other. On my dozens of visits to their home they always expressed their gratitude for life and retold the story of how they met.

While I sat at their kitchen table with Ann's daughters as they planned her funeral, I looked into their beautiful dark eyes and saw pieces of their mother looking back at me . . . the way she laughed . . . the way she held her hands. And I realized Ann lives on in those she left behind.

I've heard it said that we die when we've learned what we came to learn or when we've taught what we came to teach. I think Ann did both.

At her funeral her children remembered her soft hands on their cheeks and her spagetti dinners. It seems as though it is the little things we do that turn out to be the big things.

As her grandchildren and great-grandchildren walked to the stand at the church to sing "I Am A Child of God" at her funeral I waited at the piano to accompany them. In each face I saw a look, a smile, a gesture of my friend and neighbor.

Snow fell yesterday - a soft benediction to Ann's life . . . so filled with gentleness and grace.

BYU Football Game Musings

I went to a BYU football game tonight. There's nothing like a crisp fall night, green grass, eager young men, the roar of the crowd . . . and then . . . the inevitable winning or losing.

Because I am a mother whose son played football I see the winning and losing part differently now. The know about all the time and effort that goes into being on a football team. I know about the long practices, the painful injuries, the competition for positions and the personal disappointment that follows losing an important game.

I remember telling my son after a heartbreaking loss, "Jacob, maybe it's not so much about winning or losing, but putting everything you have on the field so you can walk away knowing you gave it all you had."

"Yeah I know all that Mom, but it still hurts," Jacob answered.

Now when I go home from a game where my team didn't win, I think about all those young men who gave their best to an effort that didn't work out the way they planned.

Life has taught me that we all have good game days and bad game days, winning seasons and losing seasons - yet one thing I also know about life . . . it goes on. There is always a new day coming and many more seasons left to play.

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Each day I love to take a walk in my own back yard and contemplate what it means to be alive. Today I found our pitch fork standing alone in a garden that is now harvested and gone and a previously green tree suddenly filled with gold. I was reminded how quickly the seasons change - how brief each day, each life . . .


and in my mind came the words of Robert Frost . . .
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

Fall Break Adventures

This week-end we explored Goblin Valley - nature's wonderland. We spent hours hiking and exploring.



I think many of us are nature-starved. Our spirit longs for all things real - sand, sky, mountains and trees.

























Our children created their own fun at our camp site by building rock forts and whole cities in the coral pink sand. That night we slept next to magnificent red rock cliffs and studied the stars in the night sky.





On Friday we hiked the narrow slot canyon eight mile loop trail from Little Wild Horse Canyon to Bell's Canyon. Countless past years of wind and water have created unique sandstone beauty that has to be experienced first hand.

Autumn Days

My husband and I went on a four-wheeler ride up the left fork of Hobble Creek Canyon for our date on Friday night. This is a rough road with lots of large boulders in the path, streams to cross, steep grades and numerous rock slides. Yet there were moments when we would come around a bend in the road and there in full autumn splender was my private glimpse into heaven . . . deep green pines nestled in yellow quaking aspen with splashes of brilliant red maples. The golden glow of a late autumn day in the Rocky Mountains can literally take your breath away. When we arrived at the top of the ridge and looked back we could see the rugged mountains peaks frosted with white snow against the blue sky.

Our lives are also filled with large boulders in the path, streams to cross, steep grades and rock slides. But there are moments when we come around a bend in the road and there in full splender is God's love just waiting to give us our own private glimpse into heaven.

Longing for Home

My daughter Aubrey was doing some scholarly work at the British Museum. She asked me to meet her in London and accompany her for some site-seeing trips when she completed her research. My ancestors are from the British Isles and I had sometimes wondered if England was my true home. I’d often dreamed of visiting all the places I’d only read about – perhaps even living in a thatched roof cottage and writing novels like Dickens, Austen or Hardy. So this invitation was like a dream come true.
After a trans-Atlantic flight I found myself using quaint red telephone booths, riding the tube and visiting Westminster Abbey, Piccadilly Circus, London Bridge, Hyde Park, Trafalgar Square, the Tower of London, Greenwich, Kensington Palace, Stonehenge, Oxford and Cambridge. I’d studied British history and literature all my life and now I was really there where it all happened, breathing in the damp air and walking the misty mores. I was beginning to wonder why my ancestors left.
On the way back to the airport at the end of my vacation, I sat in a train next to a middle aged woman. She’d been to London to see an exhibit. She watched me as I stared wide-eyed out the window noticing every quaint row house or manicured rose garden.
“Oh, it’s so beautiful here,” I said. “There’s so much history every where you look, and it’s so green. Don’t you just love living here?”
The woman lowered her eyebrows and answered, “Oh my dear, everything is so old here - musty, rusted-out or broken. You can’t find a good man to repair anything - so you’re always in a pinch.”
Then she asked me where I lived. I told her my home was out west in the United States on two acres in Utah. She became animated and asked me several questions.
“Oh, I’ve always wanted to live in the States, especially in the West. Everything is so new there - wide open spaces and endless possibilities - sunshine almost every day.”
I realized she longed for what I had but couldn’t see what she had. I wondered if I was the same way. As I listened to her, I pictured my great-grandmothers and fathers standing on the docks waiting to board a huge ship bound for the colonies in America. Then I imagined other ancestors as they left behind their lush green gardens and farms in Nauvoo Illinois. My people gave up the easy life to find a place where they could live according to the dictates of their own conscience. Their lives would have been so much easier and safer if they had stayed, but they left . . . for me. I would not have the rich life I enjoy today without their courage. Now, at long last, I could finally appreciate their gift.
Later that day as I looked out the window of the airplane, I watched the great Rocky Mountain corridor come into view much like the castles or palaces I had just left behind. I was going home. I was not looking beyond the next hill or bend in the road any more. What I had was enough. Life was no longer greener on the other side of the world, only different.
If we never see what we already have, we never find our way home.

Studio 5 Interview

Finding Time for Your Kids: Daily Rituals That Really Matter

Most parents are searching for ways to spend more time with their children. The secret isn’t always finding more time but making the time parents and children already have together really count. Here are several daily rituals parents might consider adding to their normal routine.

* Create Memorable Mealtimes
Families who commit to eating at least one meal together soon discover the benefits that come from creating a golden family hour each day. This hour is time set aside exclusively for the family. It helps to set aside a specific time every day and eliminate as many distractions as possible by turning off the television, computer and telephones. Community, school, career and church activities are numerous and will encroach on family time if not carefully selected.

A golden hour might include:
Preparing a meal together
Saying a prayer
Eating together
Reading a chapter from a good book/talking about the day’s activities/singing a song
Doing the dishes together
Helping with homework/going for a walk/throwing a baseball/playing a board game.

* Make Homecomings and Departures a “Touching” Event
Everyone likes to be noticed, appreciated and loved. It only takes a few seconds for parents to make every homecoming and departure a little more warm and fuzzy for their children. Don’t hold back. Be warm and affectionate when your child leaves or come back home.
Parents can:
Kiss
Hug
Make a positive comment – “I believe in you!” “Make it a good day.” “I’m so glad you’re home!” “I missed you today.”
Wave from the window
Blow kisses
Smile
Say “I love you.”

* Utilize Transport Time
Most parents and children spend part of their day in their car going and coming from a multitude of activities like school, lessons and activities. Parents can put this time to better use by recognizing car time as a great time for positive personal parent/child interaction.
Parents can:
Turn off cell phones/radio/stereo
Be truly present
Talk
Listen - Sometimes children open up best when they aren’t looking straight at you
Create fun car games and a family goodbye honk
Invite one child at a time to accompany you on routine errands

* Establish Pleasurable Bed Time Routines
Bedtime routines can be painful and stressful if rushed or forced. It only takes a few extra minutes to have positive personal time with each child each night.
Parents can:
Stager bedtimes for each child so they have individual time and avoid interruptions
Read books
Tell original adventure tales starring the child
Take a few minutes to carefully tuck the child in bed
Ask: “What was one good thing that happened today?”
“What was one thing that was not so good?”
Sing a lullaby
Pray
Stroke the child’s forehead
Say I love you
Rub noses/kiss/hug

Children who have been loved know how to love. Daily loving rituals don’t take more time or money; they only require that parents re-order their lives so that they have unhurried time for the people who matter most.

Harvest Rewards

Like many of you, I've been harvesting an abundance of fruit and vegetables from my garden the past few months. While I dig my fingers in the rich brown earth to find deep orange carrots or firm red potatoes I think about the growing season and pause.

I used to think a "harvest" was the reward or what I would receive after all my hard work. Yet, life has taught me that the harvest is hard work too. Even an abundance has to be gathered in, washed, prepared or preserved. The work never ends. And that is the way I like it.

Maybe we're not suppose to anticipate or wait for an easy time. Maybe the reward is the ability to perform meaningful work. Perhaps planning, planting, nurturing and harvesting is an eternal circle not a vertical list. We're never done. Meaningful work creates the reward and is the the reward.