Cowboy Bob's "Bob-Lingo" Handbook (1985)

My parents moved us all to Idaho when I was about eight-years-old.  I think they wanted us to be surrounded by people with strong roots, strong foundations, strong faith.  And we were.  It was a time when kids could not only walk to the park alone, but spend the whole day there playing, swimming, roaming, just enjoying the sun and the freedom.  It was a time when we weren't bogged down by homework or 80-hour work weeks, but we learned to work by using our hands--planting gardens, moving irrigation pipe, sorting potatoes.  It was a time when we had Christmas pageants and the Lord's Prayer and the Star Spangled Banner--all at school.  The agenda of the teachers was to teach.  To teach the kids about who they were and who they could become.  And they were examples of goodness themselves.  Our US government teacher, Robert Andrus, (Cowboy Bob) was one of these teachers.

He was known as "Uncle Bob" to many, but we also called him Cowboy Bob because he wore cowboy boots and a cowboy shirt and bolo tie every day.  And of course he sported his fantastic belt buckle, nearly the size of a license plate--we used to say that was the reason he wore boots each day, because there was no way he could bend over that buckle to tie shoes.  That was his daily look (except the two days of the year when he wore what could only be described as his autumn hippy tunic--the only time he wore short sleeves, too) finished off with a big grin.  We thoroughly enjoyed his class.  And not necessarily because of the subject matter, although he made that interesting enough for a bunch of teen-agers.  But it was his unbelievable mastery of the English language from his own perspective.

Yes, we actually wrote down his words (not as in note-taking) and phrases, along with definitions either gained from context or from just asking him what in the world "cut the water off at the pass" meant.  It means to stop talking, by the way.  Of course, we had to preserve his language, not only for the fascinating linguistic experience that it was, but for future government students, as well.  So, we put it together in a hand book and sold it for two dollars a piece at lunch time.

Well, Cowboy Bob passed away this week.  He was one of those men my parents meant for us to be surrounded by--solid, strong, and faithful.  And there's nothing like a funeral to bring old friends back together with old memories.  Cowboy Bob, as people gather in their  "Sunday go to meeting clothes" to pay you tribute one more time, this is dedicated to you--for the many hours of entertainment you gave us then and rekindled now.


Cowboy Bob's "Bob-Lingo" Handbook (1985)

A Wish for More Wishes--Really

Summer break at last!  This season finds me outside much more, enjoying and appreciating all the beauties of nature.  I love a fresh sea breeze and a beautiful sunset.  I love a short walk through the park or a long hike through the hills.  We have such a wonderous world!  It set me to thinking...

Any time someone asks, “If you could have any wish you want, what would you wish for?” doesn’t everyone always say, “I’d wish for more wishes”?  You don’t ask for specific stuff, you ask for the ability to get anything you want.  Well, I kind of think of this concept when I think of eternal inheritance.

In Doctrine and Covenants 84 we read about the priesthood.  Christ promises to those who obey the commandments and honor the priesthood, “all that my Father hath shall be given unto him” (v 38).

When I think about this, maybe it doesn’t mean His creations.  I mean, I would love to inherit Grand Teton National Park, or New Zealand’s South Island.  He could give me those.  They are His, right? But how could He promise those to me if someone else wants them, too?

So, maybe He doesn’t mean all the stuff. Maybe He means all the power He has.  

As a parent, rather than just giving my kids everything they need and want, I'd love to give them skills to help them become self-reliant, to help them reach their own dreams, not just the dreams I have for them.

It’s like granting more wishes.  Although He could, Heavenly Father won't give me the South Island,  maybe He'll give me the power to create my own South Island.  The power to create my own national park. The power to create whatever else I wish. 

He has already restored some of His priesthood keys to earth.  But won’t it be amazing one day to possess all His priesthood keys?  Afterall, it is through the power of the priesthood that the Lord created all that we have.  And He has promised all that He has to us.  What a wish!

PS 

I'm not saying I want the priesthood conferred upon me.  I already know I can access all the blessings the priesthood brings, and I'm so very thankful for that, for a wonderful husband and sons who hold and honor the priesthood!

Magnificent Mothers

I am awestruck every time I think of Mary.  But today I actually thought about her mother—she must have been an amazing woman herself to have raised a daughter who would be prepared to become the most important woman in history, the mother of the Savior of the world. 

Mary was young and inexperienced.  I’m guessing the things she did, the way she lived, what she believed, her determination to act in faith might have been because that was what she saw her own mother do. And Mary did all that with such grace.  When the angel Gabriel first came to her to tell her she would become the mother to the Christ child, Mary didn’t complain or even question.  She just accepted her call and moved forward in faith. 

I can’t imagine the pressure that must have weighed on her. What a tremendous blessing to have a loving husband who helped her fulfill her magnificent responsibility. I would guess she would have been blessed also with help from on high, angels perhaps, to bear her up and instruct her how to be a righteous mother.  But I’m sure Mary must have always had in the forefront of her mind just who her son really was and the mission he was to fulfill.  

This has made me wonder what I would do if an angel came to me and told me the true nature and calling of my children.  Would I teach them differently, speak to them differently, treat them differently?  I have not had an angel come to me to tell me my children’s missions here on earth.  I don't know if they'll be astronauts, artists, or airplane pilots. But, I have had moments, glimpses, of pure knowledge of who they really are.  They are children of God the Father.  They have been saved for this time.  They are meant to be a light in this world where so much is darkness.  They are born into this family to be taught and loved, and to return together back to our Heavenly Father to become like Him.  

I guess I don’t need an angel to come tell me these things.  I already know them.  I just need to remember.  Like Mary, I will move forward in faith, helping my children to “grow in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man.”  And how thankful I am to have an amazing husband with whom to share this incredible responsibility.

My Daughter's Dreams

"I am going to be an alientologist!"

and

"I wish I were a red neck." 

What do those two unusual quotes have in common?  Both came from my daughter today.  Yep.

Dream Big!  That's always a good idea.  So, when my little girl tells me what she wants to be when she grows us, I try to encourage her.  Normally she has ambitions to be a teacher, a doctor, a mother--all great plans.  Well, I guess part of my job as a parent is to help them fulfill their dreams.  Unless they are nightmares.

I suppose I should explain.  It is true, my daughter does love unusual things--she has a personal relationship with the librarian who is constantly on the search for books about monsters, mummies, mythological creatures and anything else of the paranormal, abnormal nature for her pleasure reading.  She's eight.  

Well, last night we picked up a little hammer and chisel for her for a "dino dig" activity in her school class.  She was so excited!  To have seen her you'd have thought she had just inherited ownership of her own personal beauty salon run by vampires and werewolves!  

"This is so cool!"  She said.  "I feel like a...what's it called?  I'm going to be an alientologist!"

Awesome!

Well, I explained that I thought she meant paleontologist, and she agreed, but had to give it some thought.  So did I.  Alientologist sounds so much more fascinating, and so much more her.  

Of course, that has nothing to do with red necks.  Lest you think we have toyed with the idea of buying a monster truck, a shot gun, a box of dynamite, and a few American flag bandanas, we have not (at least not out loud).  And as much as my little girl may faint dead away at the idea of driving a truck that is a monster, she really was just watching Duck Dynasty.  Yes, you read that right.  Last month my boys finally convinced the rest of us to try an episode, and, I fully admit, I'm kinda hooked.

So, we were watching Phil babysitting his grand-daughters.  And as any good grandpa should, he took the girls out to repair the duck blind where they all got covered in mud.  After squirting them all off with a hose, he proceeded to teach them how to gut a fish and fry it up in peanut oil.  The dirtier and gooier they got, the more excited she got.  Until she finally exclaimed,  "I wish I were a red neck!"  

Well, a girl can dream.  

Prayers of the Righteous

I learn so much from the sweet, sincere prayers of my little four-year-old primary kids.  Yesterday, one of the boys prayed, “Please help me to be rich when I grow up,” (a few smiles and snickers—yes, I was peeking, thinking about the conversations that must take place in their house), pause, “so I can buy a house someday.” 

Oh—of course! This is California, after all.  I realized maybe I better start praying for the same thing for my own children.  At the rate things are going here, they’re going to have to be rich in order to buy a house here, or anywhere, for that matter.

I forget sometimes how important and powerful prayer is.  It suddenly struck me today, there were times when the only thing that saved an entire people were the “prayers of the righteous” (Alma  62:40); and times that no righteous were even found in cities that could have saved them. 

So, I had to ask myself, how often do I pray in such a way that my prayers could save our city, or even my town, or neighborhood, or even family?  Are my prayers sincere and full of enough faith that I could call on the Lord for miracles?  Or just everyday blessings? 

I want to be sure I have the kind of relationship with the Lord that comes from daily, sincere prayer, so that when I do have great need for miracles (and as my kids grow older, those needs seem to come more and more often), I can ask with faith.

We are taught to pray in any place over any thing we need.  So, why not pray to figure out school plans, or to overcome temptation, or to save a nation, or to be able to buy a house? 

Hope for the Future

There's something magical and hopeful about a bunch of handsome, rowdy, active teen-age boys sitting in the loft playing Super Mario Brothers and listening to music.  How is that hopeful, you ask? Because they're listening to Beach Boys and Disney cartoon sound tracks.  I think their theme song is Rapunzel's "I Have a Dream." Our future is in good hands!

The Evolution of Mother's Day

Mother's Day has changed a lot for me over the years.  I've gone from the afternoon pleasure of finding my son using un-laundered underpants to soak up then suck out muddy water from a puddle (see previous Mother's Day blog), to having my children, on their own accord, pamper me with poetry and breakfast in bed, and heart-felt messages on Facebook.  The phrase "This too shall pass" has been a sort of Mother's mantra for several years as we've struggled through nights of insomnia with infants, tiring days with toddlers, and trying times with teens.  But it's been an adventure and joy!

Here are a few of my thoughts today about my most magnificent children:

I love that my teen-agers still love the Muppets

I love that my sons aren’t afraid to try to drink soda from a mentos geyser

I love that my daughter won’t let them try to drink it all without her

I love that my son asks me to play catch with him

I love that my daughter worries about my being terribly lonely when my husband is out of town

I love that my kids don’t really believe they will give me a heart attack when they hide under piles of pillows and jump out to scare me (I just hope I don’t prove them wrong)

I love that my sons ask me style advice

I love that my sons ignore my style advice

I love that my daughter can’t wait until the fathers’ and sons’ campout so we can have our own mother and daughter girls’ night

I love that she insists that we have chicken nuggets, M&M’s, cotton candy, ice-cream, and pop corn on said girls’ night

I love that my son writes me poetry

I love that my son writes stories with me

I love that my son is becoming a better writer than me

I love that my son creates beautiful art as gifts

I love that my daughter wakes me up early on Sunday morning to bring me hot chocolate in bed

I love that she asks me to teach her to work the stove and microwave so she doesn’t have to make hot chocolate for me from the tap.

I love that my children get upset when they see injustice

I love that my children aren’t afraid to dream big

I love that they are proud to stand up for right and share truth

I love that my children love each other

I love that they love me

I love that my children are mine

I love being their mother

So, my Mother's mantra, "This too shall pass," has taken on a new meaning--these wonderful moments will pass, and all too quickly.  I plan to enjoy every one of them and make the most of each day I have with these incredible children the Lord has given me!  I couldn't feel more blessed!

Mothers

I decided to re-post this in honor of all the wonderful mothers in my life. Thank you for your inspiration-- Hope you had a wonderful day!

Ahhh...Mother's Day!

Now, that Ahhh could be like a sigh--Ahhhh, it's Mother's Day, what a lovely holiday. OR that Ahhh could be a shrill, piercing scream--Ahhhh, it Mother's Day, hand me the cough syrup and wake me when it's over!

I'm not sure there's another day that's filled with so much mixed emotion for many moms. We're reminded of how blessed we are to have these wonderful children who are gifts from heaven, and what trust the Lord has put in us to fulfill this divine responsibility of loving and nurturing them. On the other hand, we also feel the guilt associated with our imperfect attempts at such a sacred calling.

I'm fortunate. I've already had one of those Mother's Days that serves as a gauge for me, meaning it was rock bottom and can only go up from there.

It all began with early morning Sunday meetings for my husband (really, can't someone just go ahead and add that to the Handbook that men should not have meetings on Mother's Day morning--they should be home serving breakfast in bed and wrapping homemade flower vases and crayon self-portaits with the kids, then getting them all ready for church while we--meaning I--lounge about eating bon bons?). Of course the kids were arguing over who used up all the hot water, and who took the last of the Captain Crunch. I'm sure at least one child ruined their Sunday clothes by spilling chocolate syrup down the front of them while trying to squeeze said chocolate into milk, and I'm pretty sure that same mostly-full milk bottle shattered all over the floor, along with the milk, in the attempt to grab it away before that got finished off, too. No one could find shoes or ties or the right snack. And had we owned a cat, I'm sure it would have clawed its way up the curtains after having been stepped on in a fight over whose turn it was to shoot the Nerf guns.

Needless to say, I was not having one of my stellar mothering mornings. Suddenly, after far too many blow-ups over each thing that was going to make us late for church, I thought, "What am I doing? What's more important right now--getting to church less late, or not stressing out at my kids?" So, we took our time.

Of course, when we finally pulled into the parking lot 45 minutes late, my husband was pulling out. "Where have you been? Your phone wasn't on, and I was just going to look for you." I gave him look #14, the one that says "Clearly things have not gone well, and nothing else should come out of your mouth right now unless it is about how, just to show me how wonderful I am, you are going to whip up some dinner and give me a 45 minute foot massage as I enjoy Pride and Prejudice while dinner cooks." We went inside.

It was a little difficult to appreciate all the talk at church about how sweet and wonderful mothers are, and how we are the angels walking the earth who give our children a glimpse of heaven, blah, blah, blah. But at least I was sitting down for a while.

I made it through church with my little potted petunia gift, then headed home, dreading the disaster left behind that would now greet me at the front door. Feeling pretty well spent and sufficiently guilty for my less-than-heavenly performance that day, I spotted my youngest son outside.

Curious as to what he was doing I went out. That was my next mistake. There he was sitting beside a big, dirty puddle. In his hand was a pair of underpants he had taken from the dirty laundry (or possibly just picked up off the floor somewhere, after the morning we'd had). As I watched, horrified, he proceeded to dip the underwear into the puddle, now brace yourself, then suck out the dirty water! AHHHHHH!

"I was thirsty," he said.

All I could do was laugh, maybe a bit hysterically, to keep myself from screaming and crying. It had been one of those Mother's Days. I understood.

I could have had a break down. I could have wallowed in guilt and frustration. I could have made a list as long as Long Island of all the things I could be doing better. But in the end, I just gave myself a pat on the back and thanked Heavenly Father for such ingenious children. Ahhhhh--Mother's Day!

Downtown Abbey Jumps the Shark

What a lovely ending for this season of the Downton Abbey…IF you got a phone call from the President during the last three minutes and missed the end!!!  I’m sorry, but the Downton Abbey team has jumped the shark. 

If you are unfamiliar with that term, think back to Happy Days when Arthur Fonzerello, AKA Fonzie, AKA “The Fonz”, for some inexplicable reason, donned a pair of water skis and jumped a shark.  Did he think he wasn’t popular enough any more? Too much. Trying too hard.  Complete loss of credibility, and dare I say, coolness, even for the Fonz.

Why??? Maybe Happy Days was losing viewers or ratings.  I don’t know.  But Downton Abbey? They were at their height of greatness!  Even my husband looked forward to it (and I don’t think anyone is reading this will mock him for that—right?). Did the Downton Abbey writers not feel there was already enough drama?  Let’s see:

·      Dramatic death that could have been avoided in childbirth

·      Gay encounter made up only by a good sound beating

·      Prison release after proof of suicide rather than murder

·      The Catholic chauffeur son-in-law helping save the entire estate with his farming skills

·      Love from a married man whose wife is in the looney bin

·      A prostitute for a cook who brings shame on all who enter but gets to leave to be close to her child

·      A wild teen-ager bound to bring shame upon the whole family if the writing sister doesn’t do it herself first?

Wow.  Looking at it on paper it is clear we have entered Soap Opera Realm here.  Hmmmm…That can only mean one thing—Matthew isn’t really dead!! He’s just staring intently at the lovely hummingbird fluttering near the broken steering wheel of his smashed up car! And that red stuff is just strawberry preserves spilled from the passing truck, which will turn out to be a secret family recipe and become famous, making certain Downton maintains their fortune ever more!  Hoorah! Ok.  I feel much better. Maybe I will watch next season afterall.

Pitch Perfect

There are a few perfect sounds in the world, including: the first cry of a newborn baby, the trickling of a mountain stream far away from civilization, and the crack of a young boy's bat hitting a baseball right at the perfect sweet spot.  

I went to my son's first scrimage on Saturday and was reminded of how much I secretly love baseball. Now, what I am about to say is not to make all of my family members choking to death in the bitter cold Utah inversion feel bad, but wow, what a beautiful day.  

I walked up to the park where people huddled togther seeking the cool, slender shadows of scattered trees, almost like campers grouped around the warmth of a fire at night. Finding a shady spot, I sat back and watched my son throw pitches from the mound.  Every time the ball left his fingers, my heart stalled until that little leather-covered ball sped across the plate, narrowly missing the smack of the bat. Yet whether it was a strike-out or a hit (see the comment of the perfect sound), I still felt a thrill.  

There's just something about the combination of sunshine, neighborhood crowds, dirt, chalk, and a baseball, that makes me fall in love with the game.  It's the highlight of my summer Saturdays. And the best part of basebal in San Diego, we can play all year round--we don't have to wait until Opening Day!

Einstein, eat your heart out (unless it has added salt)

I finally did it—I defied the laws of physics!

Well, one of them anyhow—the one that has plagued me for the last several years.  It’s that pesky law that says matter can neither be created nor destroyed.  Here’ how my body interprets that—when someone else, namely my husband, loses weight, namely because of his thyroid issues, then that matter, namely pounds, leaves his body, and rather than just disappearing (that law, remember—matter can’t just be destroyed?), it goes straight to me!

Well, not this time! Since his cancer came back, my husband has lost a few pounds, as I suspected he would.  And I figured they’d find their way to me. But thanks to my dutiful, supportiveness as his wife, they didn’t! Not for lack of trying, though. I actually joined him in his iodine-free diet for a few weeks (I knew I wouldn’t be able to figure out food for him if I weren’t doing it for myself, too). 

So, no seafood (easy for me, harder for him, especially as we just took a trip to Boston), no dairy products, no processed food, nothing with added salt.  Yeah, pretty much the fruits and nuts diet.  I think I’m growing a bushy tail and buck teeth—I feel like a squirrel.  But a healthy squirrel!

This was all in preparation for his radiation treatment he had this week.  But now that it is over, I just want to gnaw on a stick of butter!  Not really. But I could certainly go for some melted over a nice big bowl of salty popcorn, maybe with a side of hot chocolate and cheese dip.  Oh, yeah. I can feel the matter coming back to my thighs already!

I’m kind of thinking Nobel Prize for science, defying that physics law, and all.  I wonder which one I will attempt to beat next?  Maybe gravity.  There are definitely parts of my body that would be quite happy about that.  And I’m thinking that bowl of deep-fried chocolate-covered cheese isn’t going to help much.  But it will be SOOO worth it!

catching up with life

Is that even possible? Catching up with life? Well, at least I can give a brief update. First, one of my sister's pointed out I never mentioned what happened with my son's scary bump on the back of his neck.  So, I will.

He had to go in for an MRI.  And he was excited!  So excited.  Like Legoland excited.  I just didn't have the heart to say, "Are you kidding? This will be one of the most unnerving, uncomfortable, un-energetic-happy-boy-like thing you've ever done!" But I felt I had to at least warn him it really wouldn't be fun. It would be loud, banging as they slide you into this tube that seems like a claustrophobic space capsule. Ahhh--maybe that was my mistake.  This is my child who wants to be an astrophysicist one day, so maybe that sounded like an exciting space adventure rather than a modern day torture chamber.

Well, he was extremely brave, but still talks about how it was hands-down the worst experience of his life (lucky--he's young). I have to say it was one of my worst experiences too.  But when the results came back, everything looked fine.  I don't even remember what they said they thought caused the bump.  Must not have been too interesting. But if ever a person could will himself to be healthy, just to avoid ever having an MRI again, ever, it is my son.  Whew!

Now if only that worked for my husband. I mentioned his cancer returned. He went into surgery in August to remove the tumor, some lymph nodes, and the surrounding tissue.  The cancer had spread. So, now he will undergo radiation in two more weeks.  That's always fun.

But here's the crazy part. Because the thyroid cells will suck up iodine, he has to starve his body of iodine for the next 15 days, so when the radioactive iodine enters his system the cancer cells will absorb it and die.  Then any residual iodine can be detected on a scan, showing where the cancer may still be spread. I'm sure there is a much better explanation somewhere, but that's my simple take. Anyhow...

Do you know what an iodine-free diet is like? Picture the Word of Wisdom on a cleansing diet.  No dairy, no seafood, little meat/poultry, nothing processed with salt or with added salt--which is just about everything not grown out of our garden. He can pretty much eat fruits, vegetables, and unsalted nuts. Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's called the hummingbird diet. Oh, and when I say "he" can eat it, I mean "we" because, yes, I am joining him on his diet adventure.  And I'm starving!  And do you see the glaring lack of chocolate?!!! I admit to cheating and eating some caramel popcorn I had made for a friend, who wasn't home, so I couldn't let it go to waste, right? Wow. I just admitted that out loud--not the cheating part, but eating my friend's popcorn.  See--lack of junk food makes me loose my sense of propriety.  Soon I'll be running around in a clown costume, talking to my imaginary pet llama, or worse--rooting for University of Utah!

All this talk about food, and the lack thereof is making me hungry--I think I'll go have a cucumber, or four.

Three Wishes

My husband's cancer is back.  It's a little scary, a little crazy. But if there is an upside to it all, it's that it makes us step back and refocus our priorities and what we really want.  It makes us appreciate more the little things, the important things.  I think this is part of what the Lord meant when He said we must become as little children to enter the kingdom of heaven. Children recognize those small miracles.  Their desires are pure and simple.  Let me give you an example:


A couple of weeks ago, one of my young sons asked me, "If you could have three wishes, what would they be?"


I said, "Hmmm...I don't know," (this was before we knew about the cancer).  "What would yours be?"


Here's what he said:


"I would wish:

• To have the best handwriting
• To have any Lego set anytime, all organized, and with a snap of my fingers they would all be put away
• And to have great eye sight."

Then my even younger daughter chimed in with her wishes:

"I would wish for:

• World peace
• That Mom would always be happy [yeah, I'm raising her right]
• And to be a warewolf [like I said, raising her right]."

Wow.  I'm just not even sure what to say about those wishes, or what they say about us! Wishes that don't include money, chocolate, super powers, world domination, or even more wishes.  Just the simple things like Legos and furry bodies with vicious sharp teeth.  See--it's all about priorities.  And I'm thinking ours are in pretty good order.

Women's Work

Alright all you lazy moms—I think it’s time for those of us who have “never worked a day in our lives” to start lining up for unemployment benefits. Maybe then we could show we care about the economy.

If a woman is not in the “work force” does it mean she cares less about economic issues? Does it mean she is less aware of the terrible economic problems facing our nation, more particularly her own family? Does it mean she is out of touch with how the economy impacts hers or her family’s life?

No!

If a woman is not the one bringing home a pay check, she still has to worry about that pay check.

Right now my husband’s company is going through a hostile take-over. It is not my job at stake. I am not the one dealing with the intricacies of such transactions. The share-holders do not even know I exist. But am I concerned? You better believe it.

My husband and I made the choice nearly 20 years ago that when children came to our family I would care for them full-time, even if it meant financial sacrifice and sacrifice of my own time and career, among other things. For the last 15 years, this is exactly what I have been doing. I know many people think that’s crazy. I know many people, including even some other mothers, put very little value on what I do and the choice we made.

Several years ago, when we tried to get life insurance for me, the first insurance company we went to refused to insure me because I “didn’t contribute” enough to our financial well-being. When we sat down and calculated my “contributions” we quickly discovered that were we to have to hire out the “work” I do (if I were to die or become incapacitated), we wouldn’t be able to afford it! This was just for the basic cooking, cleaning, laundry, yard work, music lessons, and child-care, not to mention tutoring and full-time teaching for our one home-schooled child. Needless to say, I was more than displeased with the insurance company’s ignorant response (obviously, we dropped them as our carrier for any insurance and went with another company).

When a woman leaves the “work force” to care for her family, it does not make her less concerned or less in touch with economic concerns. If anything, it makes us more concerned. We have to plan carefully, make adjustments and sacrifices, and be creative in budget development. We know that if our husband loses his job, we do not have a second income to fall back on. I fully recognize many women don’t have the choice to be at home full-time, and I feel extremely grateful that I can be with my kids. Although it is not without its challenges, being home with my kids is my favorite place to be and it is my very most favorite job. I wouldn’t change it for the world. And I hope I don’t have to.

Free Girls Clothes or Empty Promises?

I’m about to admit something that says way too much about me. My name is Courtney, and I like the Napoleon Dynamite cartoon. There. I said it. I know, it’s ridiculously stupid, and maybe even uncomfortable at times, but I find myself laughing out loud, and I’m afraid I even let out a snort or two the last time I watched it.

Why did I just confess this, you ask? Well, believe it or not, I actually find some interesting analogies in the show. Let me explain.

Last week, Napoleon’s friends were upset at each other, so he was trying to find a way to get them to talk. Naturally, he set up a trap. This was no ordinary Mystery Inc. trap, this was a good, old-fashioned, catch-a-rabbit-with-a-carrot trap. Deb came walking into the school hall way to find various signs with “Free Girl Clothes” hanging all around with arrows pointing the way under a giant box propped up with a stick. Well, you can guess what happened: Deb said, “I like girl clothes,” and the next thing you know she’s tied up on a chair in the gymnasium—and no free clothes.

How many times do people offer lovely speeches with lofty promises and high hopes only to end up giving an empty box?

Politicians may dangle budget reform and tax relief, advertisers dangle weight-loss and instant beauty, TV shows dangle popularity and style, but those carrots just often lead to, that’s right, an empty box.

We live in a tough world. Trying to rear righteous children with good hearts and strong spirits can be extremely challenging. Trying to navigate political winds and social storms is very difficult. With so many voices calling out, it can be hard to know which ones will lead to happiness and which ones will lead to emptiness.

Thank goodness we have help. Barbara Thompson, a counselor in the general Relief Society presidency said, “Fortunately, we are not left alone in our efforts. The greatest help we will have in strengthening families is to know and follow the doctrines of Christ and rely on Him to help us.”

In the Book of Mormon Alma reminded us that the gospel has “a great tendency to lead the people to do that which was just.” He said the word of the Lord had “more powerful effect upon the minds of the people than the sword, or anything else, which had happened unto them—therefore Alma thought it was expedient that they should try the virtue of the word of God” (Alma 31:5).

What would Jesus do? What would He say? What does the Spirit tell me? Pretty simple.

So, the next time you see a “Free girl clothes” sign, ask yourself, “Will that really lead me to frilly skirts and ruffly blouses, or is it just an empty box ending up with my being tied up in the dark gym?”