Happiest Place on Earth

The Happiest Place on Earth, besides our back yard...

We went to Disneyland yesterday. It was really fun! Except for the parts that weren't--

I should have known we were in for an interesting day when my five-year-old daughter said, "I want to go to Pharisee Land first!" From the mouth of babes...Of course, she meant Fantasy Land. And the first thing she wanted to do was ride the carousel. Should I have been concerned when her grip on my hand tightened more and more the closer we got to those scary painted horses impaled with a golden rod? She had picked out the pink and purple saddled horse, so we ran to it when the gate opened for our turn. I lifted her onto the pony's back and buckled her up. As soon as that merry-go-round started to move, things were no longer so merry. That horse began to rise up. "Hold my hand!" my daughter shouted. I held one hand while she gripped that golden rod of security as if it were the Iron rod itself and we were on a tour through the "mists of darkness" with Laban at the lead!

Well, the scary ride ended, and we were still in one piece. Then my husband suggested she go on the Indiana Jones ride. She has this strange passion for Indiana Jones movies, so he figured she'd love the ride. Twenty minutes of sobbing and three skeens of cotton candy later, she calmed down just enough to head to the haunted mansion. Even as I write this I question my own judgment and competance as a parent and guardian to this little angel. But it wasn't as bad as I feared (might be due to my hands over her eyes the whole time--she claims she is "all about scary," but I think she's thinking more along the line of Scooby Doo).

I'd finally learned my lesson and sent her off with her aunt to Toon Town while everyone else dragged me to Space mountain. Now, I can lecture for an entire Sunday school lesson on the dangers of peer pressure, but there I went, giving in to the pleadings of my sons, husband, and nieces. Another lesson to be learned after the fact. Well, we waited forEVER in line, and oh, how I wished we had had a fast pass. With a pass like that you just get a scheduled time to return and jump in at the head of the line. Each time I watched someone else fast pass in front of me it was like standing on the edge of the Red Carpet, watching the celebrities of Hollywood entering the secret place with the secret delicous food and the secret fabulous goody bag with an i-pad, Belgian chocolates, and a Fast Pass, while I stood on the sidewalk watching from behind velvet ropes dreaming of what the secret life is all about. But the schedule didn't work out, so we waited and waited with "sound effects" all around us like laser beams scratching against a chalk board (and why does everyone think aliens would sound like that? wouldn't horrible sounds in space still sound like horrible sounds?).

Well, I think all the waiting and anticipating made the ride that much more rewarding. Wait, did I just say rewarding? Well, I guess, because there is a sense of peace that comes from releasing all your pressures by serious primal screaming as you fly through darkness at a bajillion miles an hour. I suppose had I not had to wait, had I fast passed up to the front of the line I wouldn't have had the same satisfaction, the same relief , because the expectation wouldn't have built up so high.

I guess life is sort of like that--you can't just fast pass to the end, skipping all the hard and sticky stuff and just say "ok, I'm here where's the ice cream and eternal bubble bath?"

Sister Julie Beck said, “Heavenly Father loves His daughters. And because the reward at the end [of this life] is so glorious, we do not get a pass from the responsibilities we were given. We cannot give them away. They are our sacred duties, and we fulfill them under covenant.”

So instead of wondering how long the line is going to take, maybe I should just be making sure I'm in the right line. Sister Beck also said we should ask ourselves, “Am I aligned with the Lord’s vision of me and what He needs me to become?” Because I certainly don't want to go through my line only to find out at the end I was waiting for "It's a Small World" instead of "Space Mountian." Although the photo shot at the end certainly would look a little different!

The Higher Power of Oprah?

So, the “Rapture” didn’t happen, and I’m pretty sure I know why…Oprah wouldn’t have allowed it.

I can just picture her in her planning room with the beautiful lake view, the beautiful Collin Firth portraits, the down-filled floor pillows and all-you-can-eat chocolate covered deep-fried Snickers (now you know my dream-house plans), discussing the whole thing with her crew:

“You know, the Rapture is just going to have to be post-poned,” she says. "My show isn't over yet." She takes a sip of her acai-berry- green-tea-pomegranate-grass clippings soy milk shake. “The way I see it, I’ll be the first to go, so I’ll need to say good-bye and leave my legacy to comfort all those left behind. I couldn’t leave them without direction and some sort of closure.”

“You’ve got some spinach in your teeth,” says one of her camera men. He subtly puts his finger to his own mouth.

Oprah stares at him in silence. Everyone freezes.

“Off with his head!” she demands. “Of course, what will it matter in a few more days anyway?” Then she laughs. Naturally, everyone else does, too. “I’m kidding. Don’t cut off his head. Really.”

Well, clearly, we’re all still here, no Rapture. Because, yes, Oprah’s last show was recorded this week, but it doesn’t actually air until next week! So, I’m thinking I have another week to get my life in order and prepare to meet my Maker—and, although I have to admit she does seem to be the queen of make-over’s, I am still referring to God the Father as “Maker,” not the demi-goddess, Oprah.

So, thanks for a few more days. Here’s to a good week!

The Christmas Manger

With Christmas come so many thoughts of family time, sweet treats, fun toys, and, of course, the Savior.

Remember the story of how I told my dad I had volunteered him to provide the set for our school Nativity program--the night before? Well, I thought of him the other night as I decided to attempt to build my own manger for our family's Christmas. My dad had just spent two weeks here helping me (I use that term "help" rather loosely--yeah, he did most of it--I drove to Home Depot--but more on all that later, maybe even pictures) fix and build things for our new house. So, I was feeling pretty inspired in the building department.

But as I started building the manger my thoughts turned from my own father to another father. I thought of Joseph, a carpenter by trade, who, in anguish might have thought "I could make a beautiful cradle for this baby, maybe carve a cozy bed ," but instead had to borrow a manger from the local live-stock for the King of Kings to rest. I broke down in tears there in my saw-dust-filled garage, thinking about that humble father.

Jeffery R. Holland said, “I wonder what emotions Joseph might have had as he cleared away the dung and debris. I wonder if he felt the sting of tears as he hurriedly tried to find the cleanest straw and hold the animals back. I wonder if he wondered: ‘Could there be a more unhealthy, a more disease-ridden, a more despicable circumstance in which a child could be born? Is this a place fit for a king? Should the mother of the Son of God be asked to enter the valley of the shadow of death in such a foul and unfamiliar place as this? Is it wrong to wish her some comfort? Is it right He should be born here?

But I am certain Joseph did not mutter and Mary did not wail. They knew a great deal, had the help of the Holy Spirit, and did the best they could.”

This reminded me of a poem I wrote once about Joseph:

As Joseph walked those noisy streets

So many years ago,

And knocked upon door after door

I wonder, did he know

That he would find no place of rest

Except a stable bare

For Mary to lay down her head

With him alone to care?

As Joseph’s hands, so rough with work,

But gentle as the snow

Prepared a little manger bed,

I wonder, did he know

That in that bed he’d place that night

A new born baby boy

The king of kings, the prince of peace

To fill the world with joy?

As Joseph’s hands took Mary’s

While he held her all alone

As she brought forth her first-born son

Could he have really known?

That special baby’s tiny hands

Would one day heal blind eyes

And bless the sick, and cheer the weak

And cause the dead to rise.

Those tiny hands would one day bear

The scars that he would show

To thousands who would touch those hands

So each of them would know

That he was Christ, the Lord of Hosts

The Hope of all mankind

To strengthen hearts and cleanse the souls

And ease the burdened mind.

As Joseph rocked that tiny boy,

Christ’s hands around his curled

Yes, Joseph knew that his hands held

The Savior of the world.

So, my new manger sits on our fireplace hearth reminding us of Christ's birth. It reminds me, too of loving fathers like Joseph, and our Heavenly Father, and of course, my own father who has always worked so hard to make my family's life comfortable and beautiful. To help us remember the true meaning of Christmas we put a small pine bough in the manger each time someone does a good deed. Some days fill up better than others, but each bough is a gift, one that helps us think of the very greatest gift of all, our Savior, Jesus Christ.

From the Mouth of Babes

Our youngest son just got baptized, and wow, what an amazing spiritual powerhouse, even at 8-years-old! He was so excited and so ready. The next day he didn't want to watch "The Amazing Race" with us because "they use too much bad language, and sometimes the girls don't dress appropriately." We read "Billy Twitter's Blue Whale Problem" instead.

Then, after our trunk-or-treat party at church Saturday night he so simply stated, "I don't think the Spirit can be there for Halloween." What a conversation we had then, including being afraid of the dark, being in places where the Spirit can dwell, modest dress, witches and monsters, yeah, you get the picture. What a bizarre holiday, really, when you think about it. So I don't. For me it's a time for costumes and candy, but the whole scary, creepy scene...I'm going to have to re-think that one.

On a different note, our daughter is often the talk of the ward at church, and her performance during the annual primary program last month was no exception. Not only did she dance during most of the music, but when her speaking part came, and the teacher went to whisper a hint to her, our adorable daughter put her hand in the teacher's face and said, "No, I can do it myself." And in her sweet angel voice (the kind that can shake the earth when used right into the microphone) said, "When Jesus was on the earth, He always surrounded himself with little children because He loved them so much!" Is it any wonder why?

Fireflies

Ok--so, clearly I should be doing something more constructive, but that is how I end up with great stuff like this video--trying to do something else to put off doing what I should be doing (you know, like dishes, laundry, writing a novel).

Anyhow, one of my best friends sent me this video a while back. Her daughter's church stake youth group put this all together. Sure, they could have been playing video games or hanging out at the beach, but I'd say, we've got some pretty amazing kids out there who want to make good choices and be good leaders who shine out in a world that is in constant need of light.

I look at my own amazing kids and the youth I work with, and it reassures me that yeah, our future is in good hands.

Fireflies - Glow in the Darkness

Endure to the End

Endure to the end--one of the seemingly most difficult commandments, because it entails never giving up.

I saw some pretty amazing examples of endurance this last week. One was in the World cup soccer tournament. US had to win against Algeria or they'd be eliminated. When the regulation time was over, and the US still hadn't scored, some people, my husband included, just turned off the painful game. But Landon Donovan wasn't giving up that easily. With 45 seconds into injury time, he scored a goal. US would advance.

At about the same time John Isner and Nicolas Mahut were testing their endurance skills on the courts of Wimbledon in England. After playing on three separate days, for a match of 11 hours and 5 minutes, John Isner finally won the match, 70-68 in the fifth set.

But, perhaps the example of reaching beyond limits and enduring that hit me the most powerfully last week came from a group of teen-age girls. When about 35 of us from our church headed to the mountains for a week of girls' camp and high adventure, we didn't realize what we were in store for. Sure, the river rafting was thrilling, exciting, exhilarating, and even a bit scary. But when we set off on what was to be a five-mile moderate hike I don't think I was prepared for it. I took it slowly and kept telling myself all the uphill would be downhill on the way back. Each turn we took I expected to see our final destination, the cave. Instead I saw more turns. At one of those turns we came across two of the girls standing in the middle of a huge rock, crying. They had seen a snake and were terrified, too scared to go forward. I put on a brave face and mustered up some more gumption to help convince them to go on.

But after several miles, with throbbing legs and lungs, and still no cave in sight, we came across another group of our girls in tears, heading back down the mountain. They didn't think they could finish. The path was narrow and steep, there were snakes, and one of the girls had fallen in the stream crossing on the slippery log. "We can't go any farther," they cried. "We want to go back." We had no idea how much farther the cave really was. Our bishop, who was leading, had told the girls he expected maybe another 20 minutes. "We can't do it."

Well, deep down, ok, not so far down, I was relieved we had found these girls. I was ready to be their support and say, "It's ok. This is a really hard hike, and you should be really proud of yourselves for getting this far. I'll take you back."

As we stood on the trail listening to the girls cry and try to decide who would go on and who would go back, we heard the magical voice of our leader:

"It's the Cave!"

When we looked up the side of the mountain we could make out the entrance with the bishop and a group of the girls shouting and waving.

With a pretty big, not-so-subtle sigh, I said, "I think we can do this. Do you want to try?" It would probably be another 5-10 minutes, rather than 20. One of the girls who had done the whole hike with a sore foot said, "Well, I didn't come this far and get this close to not go all the way." She inspired the rest of us.

After a little more discussion and lots of encouraging shouts from the cave, we turned up the path and kept going. As each girl arrived everyone cheered her name and handed out high-five's and hugs. We had made it. Every one of us!

Coming in from the blistering sun, the cool air of the cave felt so soothing. After a little exploration and about 25 photos with everyone's cameras, we headed out. The hike back was filled with singing, and chanting, and banging rocks together to scare away any snakes. All the girls were alive with a sense of accomplishment and joy (while I think some of us leaders were sensing something else, too, like aging muscles and creaky joints).

It wasn't the most breathtaking scenery or awe-inspiring destination I'd ever seen, but it was one of the best hikes I've done in a long time, maybe because I did it, when I really wasn't sure I could. It was hard, really hard. But I was reminded once again that hey, I can do hard things.

Elder Jeffery R. Holland gave this really great insight into enduring and looking for the good things to come:

I love the words associated with Winston Churchill's simple, profound advice to never, never, never give up. Who knows what you might be missing.