It's Not Fair!

  One of the first full sentences a child learns is:  "It's not fair!"  Think about it.  It's not fair that I look more like my dad than my mom.  It's not fair that the only place I have thick hair is my eyebrows.  It's not fair that I was born without a hip, which made me klutzy, which makes me fall down a lot, which makes me break things, which makes me have to sit around eating bonbons and watching TV.  Life isn't fair!
  On the other hand:  If I look at the larger view, it isn't fair that I live in a comfortable home, with plenty of food and clothes.  It isn't fair that I have the world's best husband, five amazing children and thirteen incredible grandchildren.  It isn't fair that I live in a free country where I can say what I please and worship how I please.  It isn't fair that I have access to good medical care.  It isn't fair that I can look out my window and see beautiful mountains and clear blue skies (most days.)  The list goes on and on and on.
  No, life isn't fair.  Thank goodness!

Grownups

    Last week my two-year-old granddaughter was doing a letter app on her mother's iPad.  She would carefully trace a letter, then jump up and down, shouting "I did it!"  This week we had a talent show with all 13 of our grandchildren.   We had singing, dancing, flute-playing, somersaults, roller-blading, bike-riding, card tricks, headstands,  cookie-making and ping-pong ball bouncing.  It was great fun.
   These two experiences made me reflect--when is it that we lose our excitement over a new skill?  When do talents other than the typical ones cease to be recognized as talents?  Shouldn't we as adults jump and down and shout "I did it!"  (at least mentally)  when we accomplish something?   I vote to do away with the blase, the ho-hum, the tedium of adulthood.  When we put away childish things, let's not throw away the childlike wonder of life as well.

I Remember Mama

       My mother would have been 88 years old on August 15.  She died just over four years ago, and there are days when I miss her terribly.  She was an incredible lady, strong-willed,  a good businesswoman, organized.  She didn't have much of a childhood:   she was the oldest of six children and pretty much raised them all, since her father had poor health and her mother ran a business that took her all over the country.  She had nine children, and in spite of health problems of her own, served faithfully in challenging church callings all her life.  She made us beautiful clothes when we were little--I remember dresses with layers and layers of ruffles. We joked about her wacky quacks and weird health foods.   She made meatless meat loaf and sugarless ice-cream, but in the last years of her life, she also had a stash of chocolate close at hand.  You never knew what new tangent she would take.  She and dad loved buying new "as seen on TV" items, and she had lots of gadgets.   She wasn't the stereotypical grandmother, maybe because she still had young children at home when the grandkids started coming, but she loved her grandchildren and great-grandchildren a lot.  Every year she made a new Christmas ornament for each of them.   I don't remember ever seeing her without her make-up, but I remember her advising me to stay in my pajamas if I was sick, since children think if you're dressed, you're well.  (Maybe that's how I learned how comfortable it is to just schlep around in nightgowns.)
    Larry and I listened to a song the other night, "Seeing My Father In Me."   I don't see a lot of my mother in me.  My personality is completely different, as is my parenting style and my sense of humor.  I do have a bit of her knack of seeing the simplest solutions to problems.  I wish I looked more like her--she was beautiful.   Instead, I have my dad's snub nose and bushy eyebrows.  There are  areas where I hope to grow more and more like her.  She had a strong, steadfast faith that carried her  through Dad's struggle with Alzheimer's and eventual death and through her own stroke and disablement.  She loved and supported her children, even when they made choices that she hated.  She was willing to offer help and advice, but she didn't try to run our lives.
     I love you and miss you, Mom.  Happy birthday!

Small and Simple Things

 Since I've been laid up, I've spent a lot of time crocheting (and a little time knitting.)  As my husband says, "That's a lot of slip knots."  Those slip knots turn into a wide variety of objects:

Toys

Accessories

Baby Blankets

Afghans

Pillows

Purses

You get the idea.  Slip knots by themselves can be tedious, but I like the end result.  That's true of just about anything.  One note at a time, my husband taught teenagers to become musicians.  One strand at a time, a friend made the hair on Toy Story 3  look amazing.   One command at a time, my son programs computers.  One laundry load, one meal, one mopped-floor at a time, a woman makes a home.  One hug, one scraped knee, one teaching moment at a time, parents build a family.  Nothing worthwhile happens all a once.  It takes time, commitment and determination to create an afghan, a home, a family, a nation.  Next time you're tired of the minutia of your life, just remember what you're really doing and take heart.

                            

Contribute

      My son sings with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.  In one of their training sessions, choir members were told to forget everything they'd been taught about staggering their breathing.  The instructor said they should breathe whenever they needed so they could always sing at full voice.  He said there were 250 other singers to pick up the slack.
    The more I think of that, the more I like it.  We're all part of different groups, "choirs" if you will:  families, neighborhoods, church groups, work,  etc.  We want to contribute fully, but sometimes we have to take a break.  It's nice to know there are others around who will pick up the slack--then we can come back in at full force.   Part of our challenge is  realize when we need that breather, and part is to notice when someone else does so we can jump in to help.   In one sense, none of us is indispensable.  In another sense, we all are.  The music doesn't work if we don't all participate.
     Sing on!

Purfuit of Happiness

     In the Book of Mormon, Laman and Lemuel are complaining (as usual):  "Behold, these many years we have suffered in the wilderness, which time we might have enjoyed our possessions and the land of our inheritance; yea, and we might have been happy." (1 Nephi 17:21)  I underlined might have both times and penciled to the side probably not.  I can't imagine them ever being happy because they were miserable complainers by nature.
     We sometimes hear people in love say something like, "I just want to make him/her happy."  Or people who want to be in love say, "I just want someone who makes me happy."  Divorce is considered reasonable when the  other person doesn't make you happy anymore.  WRONG!  No one can make you happy. Other people can add to your happiness, but whether you are happy is up to you.
     We all know the "yes, but. . ."  people.  They complain, and when you try to point out positive things in their lives, they respond, "Yes, but. . ."  I prefer the converse.  Yes, my circumstances aren't the best now, being laid up for who-knows how long with a broken knee, but I'm happy.  I have so many blessings to focus on, why spend time bemoaning things I can't change.
      I have to disagree with our founding fathers a little.  I don't believe happiness is something you chase.  I believe it's something you choose.

Goodness

      In a conversation my son and I had a while ago, he said it's strange that so many people talk about how good they are because they work hard, don't cheat on their spouses or do drugs.  He said those things should be taken for granted.  Isn't Google's motto "Don't Be Evil"?  That's great for a corporation--in fact, I wish it were the motto of every corporation on the planet.  From individuals, though, we should ask a bit more.  To be good, we need  to do good.   It doesn't have to be big things.  My neighbor sends me get-well cards regularly.  My husband helps tutor a friend's child in math.  My daughter cut off ten inches of hair to send to Locks of Love.  My granddaughter, unasked, brought a cushion to prop my leg on.  Our ancestors did great and glorious good works to build this country.  We can honor them by doing small and simple glorious good works for those around us.  Happy Independence Day--and be good.