Thursday Thinking - "Babies are such a nice way to start people . . . "

A miracle happened this week in our family.  

On May 12, This little family of four became a family of five.

I love this picture of her on Michelle's chest and the wedding ring hanging from a chain around Michelle's neck.
Michelle texted soon after she was born:  "It's pretty cool how quickly (she) relaxed when (she) got put on (my) chest.
She went right to sleep. And pooped on me."

Welcome to the world baby girl!  Our family got better the day you were born.  

Thank you for getting her here Ty and Michelle.

Her name is Kathryn Cali Payne.  She is named after Michelle's mother, Kathy, and Cali.  Two of my heroes and women I love very much.

Three little girls.  Such a pretty and fun little family.

There is no danger she won't be loved.

"A baby is God's opinion that the world should go on."  ~Carl Sandburg   Welcome to this wonderful world Kathryn Cali.  We're so grateful you're here.

Thursday Thinking - Circles, Squares, Go - Go Boots and Elvis

Did your kids have that Fisher Price® toy that had blocks (square, rectangle and round) that fit through like-shaped holes? Mine did and it about drove us all crazy.  The kids didn’t have the agility to manipulate the blocks into the holes and so they were scattered everywhere. 

I was like that in second grade; I just didn’t have the agility to make a good fit. The friend I wanted to have thought we should wear white go-go boots and scream for Elvis Presley.  I wasn’t a go-go boot and Elvis girl.  I was really a build-a-fort-and-pretend-to-be-a-pioneer-taming-the-prairie-while-baking-a-mud-pie kind of girl, but wanting this girl to think I could fit, I hoped and hinted for boots for Christmas. I received a red pair of snow boots.  Red snow boots aren't even close to looking or sounding like white go-go boots. 

I was a square trying to fit in a circle, consequently second grade was a painful year. I struggled to tolerate myself let alone like me. It was just as Eleanor Roosevelt said, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent” and I gave myself free rein to feel second-rate and miserable.

It takes patience to accept yourself for who you are -- circle, rectangle, square or otherwise. Sometimes we’re less than attractive emotionally, spiritually, physically or intellectually and it takes work to be nice to you. Sometimes we’re like a ten month old baby trying to feed herself. She’s awkward. It’s difficult for her to turn that little club fist into a useful eating utensil and she clumsily smears her food across her cheek on the way to her mouth. Sometimes the food makes it and sometimes it doesn’t but, messy and inept as she is, we wouldn’t yell at her for her failed attempts. Instead we encourage her and give her more food to try again. 

Likewise, we can expect to bungle many things but need to be patient while we learn. The mastery of anything takes time, practice and exposure and “The key to everything is patience. You get the chicken by hatching the egg, not by smashing it” ~Arnold H. Glasgow. White go-go boots was a passing craze and guess what followed it? The Gunny-Sac dress! A gunny-sac dress is exactly what it sounds like, a bit of ruffled prairie. If I’d have been patient with my square in second grade I could have hopped right into the gunny-sac era without having to wear those ugly red snow boots.

Since then, I’ve also learned it’s easier to accept ourselves when we serve and accept others. Like aspirin, service is a cure.  One of the ailments service cures is a feeling of low self worth. As Spencer W. Kimball said, “When we concern ourselves more with others, there is less time to be concerned with ourselves . . . by losing ourselves, we find ourselves . . . — indeed, it is easier to ‘find’ ourselves because there is so much more of us to find!” (“The Abundant Life,” Ensign, Jul 1978, 3) There were certainly others in our little second grade class that could have used a friend. There were lots of other shapes and sizes to play with rather than spending my time trying to cram a square block into a circle.

Lastly, one of the most helpful tools for accepting ourselves is to pray as the old English weaver: “O God, help me to hold a high opinion of myself.” If we’re to be of any use to ourselves, each other or God, it would be helpful to see ourselves through His eyes since He created us in the first place. Self-acceptance isn’t arrogant nor does it make excuses or overlook our faults, but rather self-acceptance does something about them instead of rolling over and playing victim to them. Self-respect means we recognize our potential and weaknesses and yet still play nice.

The problem with that Fisher Price® game was that it said it was for babies. It’s not for babies. Babies don’t have a problem with self-appreciation. They kiss themselves with enthusiasm every time they see their reflection in a mirror. Babies are bald, toothless, drool, wear diapers and yet still smile and like and accept themselves. That Fisher Price® game should be for second graders and adults who are still trying to cram circles into squares.

Thursday Thinking - Believable, because it's true.

I never believed in the Easter Bunny. He just didn’t make sense. We lived where there were tons of jackrabbits. Literally. They were so destructive to the crops that all the farmers would have rabbit drives. Droves of adults and kids would run through the sage brush hollering and hitting the brush with bats or sticks and scare/herd the rabbits into large wired pens. (Think of it as a demented Easter egg hunt where we looked for the rabbit instead of the eggs.) Nearly every trip to town we counted road kill rabbits in the double digits.

Another reason I couldn’t believe in the Easter Bunny was Grandpa used to come out and load us grandkids in the back of his station wagon and take us up on the hill to target practice on . . . you guessed it, jackrabbits.

But, even if I hadn’t been desensitized to rabbits, I don’t think I would have believed there was an Easter Bunny, because often our Easter baskets were trays just like this one:

Mom spread green Easter grass in the bottom and then made a little pile of jelly beans, a little pile of malt balls, and a little pile of bubble gum eggs along with a few Peeps and Reeses peanut butter eggs and a sprinkling of little, foil-covered, chocolate eggs. Each tray had a little strip of paper with our name on it and she hid them in the house (inside the dryer, the game closet, the kitchen cupboard, under the couch, etc.) and when we woke up Easter morning we looked until we found our “basket.” I’d seen rabbits in the yard. I’d seen rabbits in the pasture. I’d seen rabbits in the fields. I’d seen rabbits in the sagebrush. I’d seen rabbits crossing the road. I knew there was no way a rabbit could hop and carry a tray (let alone ten for each one of us kids) and still keep the candy in neat little piles. No sir, there was no such thing as an Easter Bunny. Reindeer that could fly, yes. But an Easter Bunny that could deliver neat piles of candy on a tray, no.

However there is one part of Easter that made perfect sense to me and that was the story of Jesus being resurrected from the tomb. That was believable. That was real. Incredible as it was, that was something I could grasp as a child and cling to as an adult. It doesn’t matter whether or not others believe it or say it isn’t so, Jesus Christ is real and so was his life, death, and resurrection. And while some stories get better and better with age, the story of Jesus’ resurrection was just as marvelous and powerful and true then as it is now.

There are many stories within the story of that first Easter. Each powerful. Each beautiful.  

One of my favorites was when Jesus had just finished that incredible prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane the night before he was crucified. Typically in Christendom, that Last Supper and prayer in the Garden is celebrated today. After the Passover dinner, Peter, James, and John went with Christ to Gethsemane and waited just outside the gate as He went into the garden to pray and make an Atonement for us.

Shortly after the experience, when Savior rejoined the apostles, Judas Iscariot, also one of his apostles, brought the crowd to arrest Jesus. Peter, who was often impulsive, saw what the crowd intended to do and protectively drew his sword.  To defend the Savior, Peter cut off one of the servant's ears. I imagine there was a cry of pain, clutching of the wound, and a lot of blood (being a head wound and all) besides chaos and shouting. But in the midst of all that the Savior told Peter, “Put up thy sword into the sheath: the cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?” and then carefully touched the man’s ear and healed him. Amazing.  And completely believable.

I love that part of the Gethsemane story for three reasons:

One: it reminds me that the Savior has the capabilities to calm and heal no matter the circumstances, no matter the problem.  

Two: it reminds me that when I’m like Peter, exuberant and naive, the Lord can correct my follies and teach me to do better in the process. 

Three: the Lord never loses sight of His purpose.  Never.  Every soul is great in the sight of God.

The best part of this story is it's true.  I don't have to pretend, I don't have to wonder, all I have to do is believe.  

Thursday Thinking - The Palmetto State

Calvin and I have been to some pretty incredible places and seen beautiful things and participated in great events because of our kids' opportunities. Last week was one of those experiences.

Joe, Ande, and Zeph live in South Carolina.  And while the focus of the trip was spending time with their family, I think this sign sums up my summation of South Carolina best:

South Carolina isn't busy like New York; if it was the speed limit would be 30.  South Carolina isn't laid back like Hawaii; if it was the speed limit would be 25.  South Carolina is it's own perfect pace -- a controlled relax that's no too fast and not too slow -- and therefore the speed limit of 27 makes perfect sense.

Joe and Ande live on an island, which means they live by water, which means they have these all over:

That would be an alligator that you see resting on someone's back lawn.  The fresh water ponds on the island are filled with alligators -- big ones, little ones, hungry ones.

It also means there are millions of these:

crabs

and these:

But they also have things that aren't green and that don't crawl . . . like dolphins.  We watched a pod of them off the pier.  There were all sizes.  My favorite was the mama and her baby dipping and diving in rhythm.

Zeph and Grandma watching the dolphins

We didn't just see wildlife though, we also sat on the back porch and watched the lightening and rain and heard the thunder.

the porch view from Joe and Ande's front yard.

and sometimes we just sat on the porch and rocked after we'd gone swimming.  We went swimming nearly every day.  I love rocking on their front porch.

We also went to see an old plantation.  It had a half mile lane of old oak trees leading up to it and the breeze off the ocean water cooling it down.  I'm telling you, you could feel the history of the place.

In it's prime, these two wings of the home were connected with more home and an upper and lower deck. This was built in the late 1600's, early 1700's I think.  It's called a tabby house as the building material is sand, water, lime, and oyster shell blended into a type of concrete.  Millions and millions of oyster shells are stacked together.

Our Civil War was such a hard and destructive one.  I couldn't help but think of it often and the people involved and how it affected their lives.

I've often heard of Southern Hospitality, but now I can say I've experienced it.

Zeph

Their ward was having a low country boil the night we flew in.  Joe had helped in the prepping of it, but explained to their bishop they wouldn't be able to attend as they would be at the airport picking us up.  The bishop texted him as he pulled into the airport and said he had set a pot back and would save it until we could get there.  It took a half an hour, but after we loaded our luggage, we drove to the church and were welcomed with a big hot pot of fresh shrimp, sausages, red potatoes, and corn on the cob.  People came to greet us and sat and visited in the dark while we ate.  It didn't seem to matter to them that the party had ended long ago and they could have gone home.

A woman from their ward had made a pound cake because she heard that Ande "had company comin'." The woman can't drive and Ande and Joe live a good thirty minutes away from the woman, but she'd taken the time to make a cake and have someone drive her to deliver it anyway.

Eighty-something-year-old Mildred went out of her way at church to introduce me to her grandson Graham who she claimed was her favorite and also his brother Colton who she claimed was "fine, but not my favorite like Graham."

Thirteen year old Jackson visited with me at length about history, in particular WW II.  He thanked me for talking to him and as I shook his hand in parting, he said, "My gosh it's like I got to meet Rush Limbaugh, except it's like you're my very own celebrity."  (Please note, I was listening not pontificating.)

It didn't matter if it was people sunning at the swimming pool, or driving a golf cart, or eating at a restaurant, or greeting us on Sunday, they were kind and friendly.  It was refreshing.

Ande painted a motto that hangs on her kitchen wall:

Their home and her homemaking skills reflect that motto:

the living room

The mirror is six feet tall, so that gives you some scale as to how massive the fireplace is

this chalkboard art that Ande drew greets you as you walk in the front door

the dining room.  The whole house has wide-plank wooden floors,
but only in the dining room is the wood floor painted.

Their home is surrounded by palms and evergreens and ferns and marsh.  Though there are many other houses on the island, it feels very private and safe . . . and 27-mile-per-hour relaxed.

We ate some wonderful food while we were there as well.

For Sunday dinner, Ande grilled pork chops and fixed cheese fondue for us to dunk crusty homemade bread cubes, seasoned potatoes, broccoli, and apple slices in.  She had made salted caramel ice cream and brownies for dessert.

Another day she made a fresh peach pie.

Twice Joe boiled fresh shrimp and steamed crab for us to eat with lime rice.  We were only going to eat it once, but it was so good Joe and Calvin went back a second day for more shrimp.  Joe seasons the water just perfectly; I noticed he even put a bit of vanilla in it to counter the bitter lemon rind.

We also went out to barbecue one night:

Sweet potato casserole, beans, home fries, chicken, pulled pork, ribs, pickles, lemonade . . . it was all very, very good.  The owner's attitude only added to the experience.  He was a busy man, just he and his wife cook with one girl in the front taking orders, but it didn't stop him from affectionately tousling Zeph's hair as he walked by. He has a sign behind the cash register informing you what isn't available and never will be so don't ask (mayonnaise and mustard are two of the things I remember on it).  He also tells you not to whine if the chicken is gone because it never was about the chicken in the first place.

We got there just in time, because shortly after we got there he put a sign out the front door that the barbecue was gone.  And since he's only open a few days a week anyway, I guarantee you he didn't plan on making any more.


We had a wonderful time.  We visited.  We ate.  We played games.  We swam.  We even crocheted leper bandages.  We played . . . and played.

I really miss Joe and Ande and Zeph living on this side of the country, but after going to see them I'm so glad they live where they do and that they have South Carolina to take care of them.

The South Carolina motto on the vehicle license plates.

Thursday Thinking - Nothing Better

Man, a dog's best friend.
The feeling is not mutual.

Levin:  "I'm shooting monkeys and gorillas."
Me:  "Good.  Shoot some more."
Levin:  "I can't.  They're all dead."

This week we got to have Levin and Atlas stay with us while Ray and Cali were in Hawaii on business. We had a wonderful time playing in the sun, doing chores, going to the circus, dancing the hokey-pokey, and eating . . . always eating.

When I was a young mother, I promised myself that I would never forget how exhausting the care for young children is.  I swore I'd never grow older and smile smugly and tell young mothers, "You think this is hard, you just wait until they're teenagers," or any other such thing.  And I didn't, because I remembered that fatiguing stage of early child development . . .  and it didn't take me long to learn that parenting takes incredible energy, love, patience, enthusiasm, and sacrifice regardless the age of the child.

But . . . I did forget.  I forgot how full-time mothering slowly, but surely sucks every last ounce of energy from your blood.  This week I fell asleep, deep and snoring, before the boys almost every night.

Mothers, you are amazing.  You run on empty for days on end.  You give when there is so very little left to give.  And while you know your Father in Heaven appreciates what you do because you feel that warmth and appreciation when you see them asleep at night or as you push them in a swing to the heavens.  And while you also know your children love and trust you because they run with open arms and ask you to fix everything.  But maybe you don't know how much most of society appreciates what you do.  I want you know know how much I admire you.  Whatever the age of people you mother, thank you for playing such an important role on Earth.

Sheri Dew said, "As daughters of our Heavenly Father, and as daughters of Eve, we are all mothers and we have always been mothers. And we each have the responsibility to love and help lead the rising generation . . .

"Every one of us can mother someone—

"Never has there been a greater need for righteous mothers—mothers who bless their children with a sense of safety, security, and confidence about the future, mothers who teach their children where to find peace and truth and that the power of Jesus Christ is always stronger than the power of the adversary . . .

"We just can’t let the Lord down. And if the day comes when we are the only women on earth who find nobility and divinity in motherhood, so be it . . .

" . . . rise to the challenge of being mothers in these perilous times, though doing so may test the last ounce of your endurance and courage and faith . . . "

How much I love being a mother.  Then, now, and forever.  It's the best way in the world to spend every ounce of energy.

Thursday Thinking - Rough

Rough has been on my mind the last few days . . .

1.rough rəf/ coarse
While I really doubt that any recipe is original -- with billions (or is it trillions) of people having lived since the time of Adam and every one of them needing to eat repeated times a day to stay alive, I imagine edible ingredients have been mixed and remixed to make the same concoction thousands of times. To claim originality would be presumptuous.  Nonetheless, here's a recipe I mixed this week that I haven't seen before.

*****

Rough Muffins

1 1/2 cups wheat bran (found in the bulk section of health or grocery stores)

1 1/2 cups buttermilk

1/2 cup coconut flour

1/2 cup whole wheat flour

1 tsp baking powder

1 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp salt

2/3 cup brown sugar

1/3 cup oil (or you may want to substitute applesauce)

3 eggs

1 tsp vanilla

1/2 cup chopped almonds (optional)

1/2 cup coconut (optional)

Measure wheat bran into mixing bowl and pour buttermilk over it.  Let it soak ten minutes.  Add coconut flour, wheat flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and brown sugar.  After well mixed, add oil, eggs, and vanilla.  Mix until all is thoroughly moistened.  Stir in almonds and coconut.  Fill greased muffin tins 2/3 full of batter and bake in a 375 degree oven for 15-20 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.

Let them set for 5 minutes and then remove from muffin tin and cool on a wire rack. 

****

As you can see, these muffins have an ample amount of roughage in them.  With wheat flour having 3.4 grams of fiber per cup, wheat bran having 25 grams of fiber per cup, and coconut flour having a whopping 64 grams of fiber per cup, each little muffin packs a lot of bulk.  Which means that you feel very full after having eaten only two of these muffins.

Mind you, they aren't the most flavorful muffin you'll ever eat, but they are healthy and I like them, especially because I feel full for such a long time after eating them.


2. rough rəf/violent; difficult; to give a beating to, manhandle, or subject to physical violence

Calvin and I both read Elizabeth Smart's book, My Story, this week.  (Remember she is the 14 year old girl that was abducted from her Salt Lake City, Utah home back in 2002.)   My.  She had it rough.  Really rough. We both appreciated the book and were glad we had someone to discuss it with as we read it.

It was a disturbing read.

It was an encouraging read.

Chapter 40 was plain inspiring.  Best self-help advice I've ever read in a book.

It was a difficult story to tell and Chris Stewart did a good job of untangling a very convoluted, yet repetitious and harrowing account.

Thank you to Elizabeth Smart for teaching us and Chris Stewart for helping her deliver that message.



I literally have been chewing - mentally and physically - on both of these rough things all week . . . as well as the rough news of the missing Malaysian plane and Russia's march.

Thursday Thinking -

Last week when Levin and Atlas were here we built Levin a fort in the living room.  Calvin said every kid needs a fort.

The next day Levin put the laundry hamper on top of his fort and, obviously happy, said, "Look, I made a temple!"

The day after Levin made his temple, Cali (who was in San Diego) sent this picture of the San Diego temple. She, too, was happy.  She'd gone to the temple to serve and commented on how beautiful (both physically and spiritually) it was inside and out.

The pictures were timely.  Neither knew of the other's experience, but both saw the temple as a place of familiarity and desirability.   Levin's enthusiasm for his temple-fort was no less real than was Cali for her experience.

The contrast of Cali and Levin and their temples reminded me of something Neal A. Maxwell wrote:  "Our perfect Father does not expect us to be perfect children yet.  He had only one such child.  Meanwhile, sometimes with smudges on our cheeks, dirt on our hands, and shoes untied, stammering but smilingly we present God with a dandelion as if it were an orchid or rose! If for now the dandelion is the best we have to offer, he receives it, knowing what we may later place on the alter."

Mostly what I have to offer my Father in Heaven is two old blankets that don't match, and a clothes hamper. It's makeshift at best, but my heart is right.  I'm trying and He knows it and He accepts my efforts.  He knows I'll grow and learn and someday I'll be able to offer stained glass and marble after He's worked with me.  And that's a very comforting thought that I learned from Levin's temple-fort.

Thursday Thinking - #Snowday

Ray is traveling on business so Cali and their boys came to spend the week with us.

Providentially, we had a snow day yesterday.

#snowday
Levin

Levin and I built masking tape roads in the center of the living room.  We loaded trucks with hay, corn, and silage and dumped the feed into the masking tape corral that held one lone cow.  She got fed a lot.  I'm surprised she didn't bloat.

We had wrecks that ambulances had to fix.  We had one lego man who did all the driving.  Levin called him Prophet.  (He did have a long beard that looks just like Noah's, [then again he had a wizard hat and a white wand too], so Prophet we called him.)

All the time we made truck noises (an idling truck sounds much different from one backing up or one shifting gears you see) and crawled.

#snowday
Atlas

We handed Atlas potato head parts to chew on and listened to him courtesy laugh when we laughed. When we ignored him for too long, he coughed so we'd look his direction and then he'd give us a thank-you smile. Never was there a more amiable, old-soul, gracious spectator for a game of make-believe.

#snowday

We made froot-loop necklaces and practiced patterns and colors.  And eating.

#snowday

We fed the steers hay and grain for Grandpa, and successfully chased one chicken back into the coop and unsuccessfully chased two chickens around and around the pasture.  We fed Dan an egg and didn't lose our boots or tip over in the mucky manure once.  

We jumped on the trampoline.

We danced the hokie pokie.

#snowday

We raked a snowman into being.  Levin insisted our snowman needed hands, so we put gloves on him.  (You pick:  He's either a prophet and pointing all souls towards heaven, a disco dancer stayin' alive, or Horace Greeley saying "go west, young man, go west."  It doesn't really matter.  What matters is he has hands.)

#snowday Cali and Levin

Cali read Rainbabies to us and we took a nap . . .

Never are children as innocent as when they lie asleep softly snoring, twitching, and occasionally flopping an arm around your neck.  Everyone who has ever admired a child sleeping, knows gazing on him causes deep reflection in your soul.  You want to scoop him up, hug him, rock him, stroke his head, and tell him you're sorry for every time you were cross, and promise to do better, to be better.

. . . but all I can think of as I lay next to Levin and hear him softly breathe is, "Oh no.  He's recharging.  He's going to wake up with all that energy all over again."

Thursday Thinking - On a Scale of One to Ten . . .

Today I asked the kids to place themselves on a patriotic continuum between 1 (not very patriotic) and 10 (very patriotic).  They were to defend their responses.

Frankly, their answers surprised me.  And inspired me.  The majority of the kids believe they are very patriotic.  They have a lot of love for and trust in their country and her people.  Many recognized that our country has serious problems facing her, and most said that they should do more to help her.

The class then compiled a list of what "more to help her" looks like.  They had several suggestions; then they turned to Mosiah 29 in the Book of Mormon where King Mosiah establishes a republican form of government among a people formerly ruled by a monarch.  Mosiah lists what citizens of a republic must do if they wish for their society to thrive.  Here is the combined list from the students' and Mosiah's ideas:

• learn the history of the country

so we know what works and what doesn't
so we know what the framers of the Constitution intended and it can be clearly interpreted
so we can appreciate what we have and what it took to get it and what it takes to keep it

• build strong families

a nation is only as strong as her families
families and nations are successful when they are built on moral principles

• stand up, stand tall, and be heard

using John Hancock as an example a student mentioned we must not be afraid to stand up for freedom and what makes and keeps a society free
be exemplary in conduct and attitude

• everybody has a responsibility in a republican form of government because everyone is represented and expects something in return

be actively involved
serve on juries
register for the draft
pay taxes
vote
be a watchdog
recognize that a republican government takes lots of effort by her people and requires patience
volunteer

• obey the laws

don't try and avoid consequences
citizens must pay for their crimes and be accountable for their decisions

• recognize that everyone has an opportunity to pursue happiness which is what gives equality to all

• be wise

pay attention
be informed


I came away buoyed by the discussion.  In a day when cynics are loud, debt is huge, unity is splintered, and problems are mounting, I saw enthusiasm and conviction . . . and answers.

It was a great thing to think on all day.

Thursday Thinking - It Makes a Difference

"Your donation makes a difference."

That's what the blood bank always says in their e-mails. They also say “come save lives," and “your support means families get to spend more time together, laugh more, and create more memories."

They beg for blood.

No doubt this is all true, for blood does keep a heart pumping and a life living. I'm happy to share, ‘tis easy to make more.

Being a mother and making a good home to raise children in takes a lot of blood;  it also takes sweat and tears, and that’s what I’ve been thinking about this week.

All of our girls are now mothers in the thick of mothering. Some days they sound overwhelmed, exhausted, inadequate, and discouraged. Other days they sound confident and full-of-purpose, deeply satisfied and so pleased. Their particular heartaches and thrills are as unique to them as their children are.  I can appreciate the gamut of emotions that comes from being a mother.  Because I’m not in the middle of changing diapers or fixing food that toddlers can and will eat, or worrying about a sullen or withdrawn teenager, I have encouragement to share ('tis easy to make more when you're on the sidelines):

To Cali, Grace, Michelle, Ande . . . and all mothers, “Please keep going. Your donation makes a difference. You're saving generations.  That takes a lot of blood, sweat, and tears.  It can be joyful, but sometimes it just feels like a duty to be a strong mother and make a good home.   Even though it is a heavy responsibility, please don't get discouraged. What you're doing is so very valuable.  I beg you to understand that what you're doing is making a difference."

Ty made this frame and mat for me for Mother's Day.  I love how it makes me feel when I see it.
It reminds me every day the privilege of being a mother.

Thursday Thinking - Best Kind of Thinking There Is

This is what I've been thinking about all day  . . .

http://houseofpaynetm.blogspot.com/2013/09/family-of-four.html

Thursday Thinking - Potentially Speaking

Abe at the CG's Social and shaking Mrs. McMaster's hand while General McMaster looks on

I just love this picture of Abe that Grace sent to us last night.
It reminds me of one of the things that I have admired in Abe since
he was a little boy, and that is his enthusiasm for life.
I could visit (and often do) for hours with Abe on how he views life, people, events, and ideas.

The other day I asked one of my students how he was doing in football and he said, "The coach got really mad at me last night.  He said I wasn't playing to my potential."

I laughed and said, "Oh ho.  I understand your coach.  I do.  Nothing makes a coach or mom madder than when a kid won't live up to his potential." Then I told him about Abe.

Every now and then Abe reminds our family that I swore at him during supper one night.  It was a significant event since I'm not a swearer, and ruined the whole supper.  Abe also reminds us that he is the only child I ever swore at.  

When Ray, our son-in-law, heard the story of me swearing at Abe he said, "Let me guess.  He wasn't living up to his potential was he?"

I said, "Yes!  How did you know that?  It would make me so mad when he didn't live up to his potential, but how did you know that?"

He smiled and said,  "It's the one thing that made my mom the most mad at me, too."

I concluded the story by light-heartedly telling my student, "Unless you want people mad at you your whole life, I guess you'd just better live up to your potential."

. . . because if there is one thing that moms and coaches and teachers are good at it's pointing out the obvious.