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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FOR EVERY MOTHER ON SALE JUST IN TIME FOR MOTHER'S DAY

If you're looking for a great gift for Mother's Day, you can find my book FOR EVERY MOTHER . . . Celebrating All Stages and Ages of Motherhood on sale for 4.99 by clicking on the link below:
http://deseretbook.com/Every-Mother-Celebrating-All-Stages-Ages-Motherhood-Janene-Wolsey-Baadsgaard/i/5060710

To read reviews of this book click on the links below:

http://ldssparkles.blogspot.com/2012/09/for-every-mother.html

http://senseandcentsability.blogspot.com/2011/10/book-review.html

Announcing the release of : HEALING FROM NEGLECT. . . When Those We Love Don't Love Us

I'm happy to announce the release of my newest book titled "HEALING FROM NEGLECT . . . When Those We Love Don't Love Us."

My goal with this book and an earlier release titled "HEALING FROM ABUSE. . . How The Atonement of Jesus Christ Can Heal Broken Hearts and Broken Lives" is to help and heal. Ending all the destructive relationships in my life and writing these two books has changed my life.

I did not write these books to make money for myself. I use all the money I make from these books to buy copies and give them away for free to any one who needs one.

Click on the link below to find a site where you can purchase this book ON SALE.


http://www.amazon.com/Healing-Neglect-When-Those-Love/dp/1462111750/ref=sr_1_16?ie=UTF8&qid=1359492930&sr=8-16&keywords=janene+baadsgaard

If you would like to read a review of this book click on the link below:
http://ldsandlovinit.blogspot.com/2013/05/blog-tour-healing-from-neglect-by.html

Click on the links below to read other reviews:
http://www.iamareader.com/2013/03/healing-from-neglect.html

http://ilovetoreadandreviewbooks.blogspot.com/2013/04/healing-from-neglect.html

To view the book trailer video click on the link below:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_KHUSmFkJgA
 

Wonderful Day at BYU Women's Conference 2013

My daughter April Moody was a presenter at BYU Women's Conference yesterday. I loved attending her presentation and being taught by her. One of the greatest blessings of motherhood is seeing your children grow into such mature and loving adults who are a blessing to all those around them.

We spent a wonderful day together on campus soaking in great food, classes and the lively concert that evening. BYU is so beautiful in the spring.

We were both overwhelmed with the goodness of all the women who attended. All the women there are trying so hard to live good lives. Their countenances literally shone with inner light.

Thank you for inviting me to spend the day with you April. I loved every minute of it.

 

BIRTH and DEATH - a holy baptism of raw pain and transforming joy

Last year about this time, I attended the funeral of my grandson Caleb and the birth of my grand daughter Lily within hours of each other. Now each spring I am transported back to that time. I know through personal experience that our entrance and exit from this stage called life is sacred - a holy baptism of raw pain and transforming joy.

DEATH

I watch as the monitors in the hospital room flash Caleb’s vital signs. Glowing numbers appear and disappear - lower and slower.

The lights go out. 

“Don’t leave me,” Mathew sobs while he holds his dead brother in his arms. “You’re my best friend.” 

Can’t hold on to life. Can’t protect my loved ones from this exquisite pain. 

“Oh God, please help us.”

All we can do is cling to each other. Grief – a giant wave washes over us – we can’t breathe. Cold and trembling on the shore.

I see my daughter’s eyes.

Another wave.

“It was such a privilege to be your mother,” April whispers gently kissing Caleb and pulling a soft yellow blanket around his shoulders. 

Another wave.

Holding Mitchell’s tiny hand while we walk from the hospital.

“I wish Caleb could come alive again,” Mitchell says.

“Me too,” I answer. 

BIRTH

Ashley calls in the night. 

“Mom, my water just broke. Can you be with me?”

Another wave.

Hospital again. Monitor flashes Ashley’s vital signs. 
Labor contractions crest and fall. 
Minutes tick by as the waves gradually get closer and closer, 
the pain - stronger and stronger until she can bear it no longer. 

Ashley cries out in pain.

Another wave.

I cannot protect my loved one from this exquisite pain. All we can do was cling to each other.

"Oh God please help us."

“Push!” I promise. “Push through the pain. Lily is almost here. You can do it.”

Father's hands reach out and grasp his newborn daughter. Lily in her mother's arms. Exquisite joy. 

Birth and death. 

Light and dark. 

Joy and sorrow.

We can’t have one without the other.

I went alone to see Caleb's new headstone at the cemetery this week. I miss him. Yet this I know. 

Caleb is near. Lily is here.

Cycle of living, season of song, embraces and whispers, 

“Life goes on.”

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Special Sale Price - 2.99 - on FOR EVERY MOTHER ebook

My publisher is running a special sale price on the electronic version of my book "For Every Mother" just in time for Mother's Day. You can check it out on the link below.

http://www.amazon.com/For-Every-Mother-ebook/dp/B004QQ3N08/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1367353036&sr=1-1&keywords=for+every+mother


You can also find a print version on sale at the link below.
http://www.seagullbook.com/lds-products-649988.html
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Spring Will Always Come Again

SPRING WILL ALWAYS COME AGAIN
One fall my husband and I went for a ride in the mountains near our home. The road was rough with large boulders in the path, streams to cross, steep grades and numerous rock slides. Yet there were moments when we’d come around a bend in the road and suddenly there was our own private preview into heaven . . . deep green pines nestled in golden quaking aspen paired with brilliant splashes of red maples.
Quite unexpectedly snow fell the next day - soft and deep. Luminous leaves turned brown and the breathless mystery of a Rocky Mountain autumn was gone. Mountain trails closed and a harsh winter of white and waiting was upon us.
A few days later I walked into our church and saw my neighbor Bill seated in a chair next to his wife’s casket with his head bowed.
"I don't know what to do without Ann," Bill wept as I wrapped my arms around his neck. He died two weeks later.
While I sat at the kitchen table with Ann’s daughters planning her funeral, I looked into their beautiful dark eyes and saw glimpses of their petite Italian mother staring back at me. I realized the best parts of Ann lived on. At the funeral her children remembered their mother’s soft hands and her famous spaghetti dinners. In the end, it seems it is the little things we do for each other that turn out to be the big things.
As her grandchildren and great-grandchildren sang "I Am a Child of God" at her funeral, I knew Ann’s efforts to love and nurture her family had born fruit. Though she sometimes felt discouraged with her efforts, in the end she had led her posterity a little closer to heaven.
 

The seasons of life pass quickly. How brief each moment, each life. Death is waiting around the corner for us all. We can not dismiss or ignore death without losing the key to love. As winter increases our appreciation for summer and fall, so death intensifies our love for each other. We are always aware that those we care for will not always be with us.

Life is excruciatingly short. Our appearance on this stage is brief - our tenuous entrance and exit nearer together than we suppose. Like restless leaves trembling in the autumn air, a precious life is here one moment, then gone on the next breeze. Eventually we will all be separated from those we love.
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. Perhaps we must do both. We are each given an equal endowment of twenty-four hours a day. What makes life precious is that we don’t know how much time we have left. Not knowing gives our fragile existence urgency. We feel the constant stirring to use our inheritance wisely - to live and love as if there is no tomorrow.

On the day of Ann’s funeral I watched the last leaf fall from the willow tree and rest softly on her lawn. Then a light snow fell. Winter and separation had come - but not to stay. Like the closing of the day and the setting of the sun, rebirth and reunion await the dawn.

Spring will always come again.Pin It

BEAUTIFUL LIFE STORIES OFTEN BEGIN WITH HEARTBREAK AND PAIN

I once knew a woman named Blanche who was confined to bed for years. While I was in bed because of premature labor, we became telephone buddies. Before bed confinement, Blanche had been in a wheelchair for thirty years because of a mistake during surgery. After she returned home from the surgery, her husband left her. Blanche was left to raise her four children alone in her wheelchair. She had every reason to focus on what she had lost. In fact, she did for a while. She tried to sue the doctor. She was depressed and disheartened.

Then one day she told me that she looked into the eyes of her daughter and realized everything her child had lost.Blanche realized her daughter needed a mother who was happy and a mother who had forgiven the doctor and her father. She had every reason to be bitter after everything she had lost. Instead, she decided to focus on what remained.

In her later years she became bedridden. Blanche had one window in her bedroom from which she could see a single tree. During our telephone conversations, she would describe in intimate detail the intricate changes the seasons would bring to her tree.

"It is such a miracle to be able to see," Blanche said. "I have so much to live for."

Blanche used the same detailed descriptions when she spoke of her grandchildren. She saw beauty and blessings everywhere she looked because she chose to see with a grateful heart, even when her entire landscape was limited to a tiny bedroom where she was forced to use a bedpan. Blanche knew the only true power we possess is our ability to see life as it really is. Life, as it really is, is downright amazing under any conditions.

Blanche also understood the value of creating our own celebrations. She often called me to wish me a happy Tuesday. She didn't wait for holidays or birthdays to celebrate or share her love of life. She understood we have to be in charge of our own joy, and create our own celebrations-for life is short. She had determined to respond positively to the events and people in her life.

Pain is part of each life. Though pain is universal - suffering is optional. Our character development and personal growth is in our hands. Though we can't always change our difficult circumstances, we can always change our attitude. When we can can't change our circumstances, it is time to change our hearts.Pin It

Wedding Day Catastrophe Or Miracle?

 

SEE IF YOU CAN TOP THIS WEDDING DAY DRAMA

I know a couple who spent their honeymoon in the LDS hospital in downtown Salt Lake City. The nurses on the surgery floor taped two felt hearts, a large golden bow and a banner that read, “Honeymoon Suite” across the hospital room door. They moved the couple to the far end of the wing so they could get a little more privacy and hold hands on their wedding night. The bride was in one bed recuperating next to another bed the nurses rolled in for the groom so he wouldn't have to be too far from his bride.
The doctors and nurses who work in the emergency room said it was the first time they’d seen a patient arrive in the ambulance wearing their wedding dress.
As you can guess, this wedding day didn’t turn out quite as expected.

Aubrey and Kyle waited 31 years to find each other. After struggling through school on a dime with crowded apartments and tight budgets they both became doctors. Aubrey has a PhD in Anthropology and Kyle is an anesthesiologist.

How they ever found each other is a miracle. They were born a few days apart but on different sides of the United States . . . Aubrey in a small town in Utah and Kyle in a small town in Pennsylvania. They both attended BYU but never met each other. He went on a mission to Spain and she finished her master’s degree. Then she accepted a scholarship to the University of Pennsylvania and he went to medical school at Penn State. They never crossed paths. Sometimes it was hard to keep believing they would ever find each other.
Aubrey was living in Washington DC when she was invited to a birthday party in Philadelphia. Kyle was invited too. That was the first time they saw each other and something clicked. They found ways to get together even with extremely busy schedules as she finished her dissertation and he finished his first year of rotations. Then he started a three year residency in LA and she started a job at the Metropolitan Museum in NYC - opposite ends of the country again.
Eventually they decided they didn’t want to live without each other any longer. They choose Valentines Day, called the Salt Lake City temple and the plans began . . . red roses and Dutch irises to decorate the hall for the reception and red velvet cupcakes and chocolate dipped strawberries for refreshments. On a special date Kyle served Aubrey chocolate dipped strawberries just before their first kiss followed by dancing, a love song and a poem.

They decided to take pictures at the temple a few days before their wedding because a big storm was forecast on their big day.

Aubrey got sick late Thursday night but she brushed it off as food poisoning or the stomach flu. Then there was the wedding supper with both families on Friday night. On Saturday morning she felt weak and crampy but excited for the big day. On the ride to the temple she complained of pain in the lower abdomen but hoped it would go away.
Right before the ceremony the pain came back. Then just as suddenly the pain went away. Her father called for a wheelchair while her mother asked the temple workers to be brief.
The feeling in that temple sealing room was electric as these two made covenants to God and each other. Rings were exchanged.

Then the pain became so intense the paramedics were called, the ambulance arrived and Aubrey was carried out of the temple on a stretcher with her groom at her side.

They talked about not wanting to miss the reception while tests were run in the emergency room but the surgeon on duty told Aubrey and Kyle they wouldn’t be attending their own reception that night. Aubrey would need to be rushed into surgery as quickly as possible. She had a ruptured appendix and the situation was serious.
The reception went on without the bride and groom at their request. Each guest was video taped and friends and family took lots of pictures so Aubrey and Kyle could see the elegant red rose and purple Dutch Iris bouquets that decorated the hall.

A ruined day? No.
There were miracles everywhere.
The marriage still took place!
They planned to fly out the next morning after the wedding to Spain for their carefully planned honeymoon. This emergency could have happened on an airplane or in a foreign country.
AND they had pictures because of the storm warnings.

There are no ruined days – there are only miracles. Pin It

"Look Mom! I'm the Breadmaker!" - How God Loves Us

One day I walked into the kitchen to find my young son surrounded by all the large containers where I stored all our flour, rice, sugar and pasta. He was busy scooping – sugar into the flour – rice into the sugar – pasta into the rice – you get the picture. 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 those containers 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 loves us and is proud of us for trying. For each of us He lovingly provides a Savior to help us clean up, restore, heal and move forward.

“Fear not, little children, for you are mine, and I have overcome the world, and you are of them that my Father hath given me; And none of them that my Father hath given me shall be lost.”(D&C 50:41-42)Pin It