It never ceases to amaze me when someone lets me know they’re angry because I’m happy.
These well intentioned few often chose to take stock of something tangible they think is me and find fault because they believe I have the perfect life, i.e., not enough pain and suffering, got it too easy, sit on the couch and watch TV and eat bonbons all day kind of stuff.
Sorry folks. I’ve got news. I could write a book . . . oh, wait a minute I am.
There’s no cable in our house—just ask my kids—and bonbons are not on the shopping list. And, though I work at home, I work hard. My work day begins around 7 a.m. and lasts until whenever whatever I have on my desk is done, often after midnight. Woven in between art contracts and writing deadlines are homeschooling, house work, and yard, animal, and people care. I have a host of folks who depend on me to be there when I’m needed: not only my children in their day-to-day lives, but adopted family members who can no longer care for themselves, either emotionally or physically or both, plus friends and neighbors and church members. And being married to a fireman who also owns his own business, and who is assistant scout master, I’m often chief cook and bottle washer with no relief for days at a time.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I love my husband and I love that he loves what he does. In turn he supports me when I need it most. And I love the chaos that makes up our lives. While life around here is often exhausting more often it is rewarding and fun. As strange as it may sound that’s why I’m happy—because while my existence is far from easy it is very full.
And pain and suffering?
Yeah, I’ve had my share. I don’t wear it on my sleeve because I don’t chose to simmer in dissatisfaction and misery. I used to take great pleasure it clutching negativity like a security blanket. Sometimes there’s still an old familiar comfort in it. But being happy is much more fun. It feels good. It’s what I choose.
If that upsets anyone so be it.
July 13, 2009
July 6, 2009
June 23, 2009
Nothin' says lovin' like Muffins in the Oven
A friend gave me this recipe for Mormon Muffins from The Greenery in Ogden, Utah.
WOW!
I don't even want to know how many calories.
For more on The Greenery click here.
June 22, 2009
Why?
My youngest daughter asked why she had to be the better person when someone else was deliberately rude. I gave a couple of my best mom-patent answers:
Because so and so doesn't know any better.
Because it's the right thing to do.
Because you need to be the better person--she knew she'd get that, hence why she used those specific words in the first place.
She rolled her eyes.
I chipped in with age-old we can't change anyone else, but we can change ourselves.
She rolled her eyes again and walked away, unconvinced. It wasn't fair, she moaned.
This morning I received a quote via email, wisdom shining through the years from celebrated American contralto Marian Anderson (1902-1993), from Insight of the Day:
"As long as you keep a person down, some part of you has to be down there to hold him down, so it means you cannot soar as you otherwise might."
Though I've long been inspired by Marian's life, her courage and determination, I have never heard that quote.
To me it made sense. I tried to translate for my youngest, who still felt slighted.
When a person is mean it says more about them than it does you--a sure sign they feel bad about themselves. When you return rudeness for rudeness, and allow yourself to descend to their level, Marion's words ring true. While you're expending energy to make someone feel as low as you allowed them to make you feel, your emotions become a tangled mess that keeps you flapping around on the ground, instead of soaring, unencumbered, to great heights. The peace that comes from being the better person is priceless.
Okay, I put it a bit more simply/kid-like to her than that.
She rolled her eyes again.
But it was a good lesson for me.
Often I commiserate over what I perceive as day-to-day injustices, minuscule as they are, and forget that the opportunity to be the better person doesn't just arrive in the course of a week, or even a day. It is afforded on a minute-by-minute, sometimes second-by-second basis.
Like when your child rolls their eyes at you for the umpteenth time and you resist the urge to do the same, having faith your example with one day take root.
Because so and so doesn't know any better.
Because it's the right thing to do.
Because you need to be the better person--she knew she'd get that, hence why she used those specific words in the first place.
She rolled her eyes.
I chipped in with age-old we can't change anyone else, but we can change ourselves.
She rolled her eyes again and walked away, unconvinced. It wasn't fair, she moaned.
This morning I received a quote via email, wisdom shining through the years from celebrated American contralto Marian Anderson (1902-1993), from Insight of the Day:
"As long as you keep a person down, some part of you has to be down there to hold him down, so it means you cannot soar as you otherwise might."
Though I've long been inspired by Marian's life, her courage and determination, I have never heard that quote.
To me it made sense. I tried to translate for my youngest, who still felt slighted.
When a person is mean it says more about them than it does you--a sure sign they feel bad about themselves. When you return rudeness for rudeness, and allow yourself to descend to their level, Marion's words ring true. While you're expending energy to make someone feel as low as you allowed them to make you feel, your emotions become a tangled mess that keeps you flapping around on the ground, instead of soaring, unencumbered, to great heights. The peace that comes from being the better person is priceless.
Okay, I put it a bit more simply/kid-like to her than that.
She rolled her eyes again.
But it was a good lesson for me.
Often I commiserate over what I perceive as day-to-day injustices, minuscule as they are, and forget that the opportunity to be the better person doesn't just arrive in the course of a week, or even a day. It is afforded on a minute-by-minute, sometimes second-by-second basis.
Like when your child rolls their eyes at you for the umpteenth time and you resist the urge to do the same, having faith your example with one day take root.
June 17, 2009
June 15, 2009
Take Courage
In the course of a day I use a lot of fonts. Big fonts. Little fonts. Long fonts. Short fonts. Depending on the project I’m working on maybe several differnt fonts in one layout.
I’ve noticed lately that my use of courage is a lot the same. Some days I need a mix of nerve, valor, and daring:
“With all due respect, sir, it’s not okay with me if you yell at an old woman.”
Having survived abusive situations in the past I find it difficult to watch people mistreat others, or be cruel to animals. During a neighborhood misunderstanding I couldn’t believe what I was witnessing between a crying eighty-four-year-old woman and a loud guy with a shovel. She made a mistake and took her irrigation water at the wrong time. He was not amused. His words, and his shovel, were menacing. Every instinct within me yelled out that I had as much reason to be afraid as the woman—the guy was big and mean. But my conscience wouldn’t allow me to passively stand by.
I was determined not to return anger for anger, yet I had no idea what to say to him. Somewhere deep inside my soul fear was overridden and words poured forth, a torrent of truth.
“Sir, I don’t think you should be proud of what you said to that woman, what you called her. I’m sure deep down you’re a better person than that. How would you like it if someone treated your mother that way?”
I was taking a gamble that he carried even a shred of devotion for anyone of the female persuasion.
Half an hour later, when I was inside the old woman’s house attempting to comfort her, he came to the door with a box of cute note cards, a gift for the woman. He stammered an apology to her and turned to me.
“You were right. I wouldn’t want anyone to treat my mother that way.”
When I attempted to rescue a kitten being beaten by its owner, the results were not the same. I was glad I had my husband to back me up—he’s a big tough firefighter who can look mean when occasion calls for it.
Once in a while I need a smidgen of daring in order to accompish something others might take for granted. “All right everyone!” Scream. Shriek. “You know I how I hate spiders but I am going to move toward it and step on it.” (Yes, this is a true story). I did kill the thing—with a shoe on the end of a broom and me standing on a chair.
Sometimes, my courage needs to last for hours. Like when my son suffered debilitating sub ventricular tachycardia and had to undergo a risky procedure on his heart while he was wide awake. This is what I typed into my AlphaSmart: “I am sitting in the family waiting room at the hospital while you have your procedure . . . I wish it was me in there instead of you.”
Often I find the need to keep up a level of courage that will propel me from bed each morning—versus a lack of it that would leave me cowering under the covers. Being married to a fireman isn’t easy; life and death are always on stage. And with the world the way it is, ever changing and filled with turmoil, illness, and economic woes, it seems there has never been more to be afraid of.
Yet I choose to believe that there’s also never been more reason to be happy.
I’ve lived long enough to know that being able to get out of bed in the morning is a blessing. So is seeing the sun rise over misted mountaintops, smelling the flowers in my garden, feeling I’ve been of use because I’ve helped in some small way, or the peace I enjoy when—despite fear—I know I’ve done my best—despite the odds—to have courage.
Be it big, little, long, or short.
June 8, 2009
June 3, 2009
Chicken Tales Continued, or We Now Take You to Omaha for Breaking News
Imagine my surprise when I found this response to yesterday's post from one of the good folks at Mutual of Omaha:
Hi Lori, WOW!
I love it. Best of luck to you (and the chickens ;) ).We are getting a lot of great "career change" stories and I think yours is one best, and certainly one of the most unique! Please consider sharing your story if you are so inclined.
Reading your story reminded me a little of Kara's. She was a successful advertising executive, had an aha moment and now run's Kara's Cupcakes! Cool!
ahamoment.com/pg/moments/view/107
Hi Lori, WOW!
I love it. Best of luck to you (and the chickens ;) ).We are getting a lot of great "career change" stories and I think yours is one best, and certainly one of the most unique! Please consider sharing your story if you are so inclined.
Reading your story reminded me a little of Kara's. She was a successful advertising executive, had an aha moment and now run's Kara's Cupcakes! Cool!
ahamoment.com/pg/moments/view/107
Have a great day!-Mike
I hate to disappoint Mike. I hope that if his colleagues back in Nebraska are congratulating him on finding a crazy female chicken farmer that he won't lose any promotions or raises when he receives my response:
Hi Mike,
Thank you for your comment on my blog post, A New Career, at www.heartsandhands.blogspot.com. The post was meant to be humorous. I did get chickens and the coop is up and running today, however the term Chicken Hobbyist more accurately describes me than Chicken Farmer. I only have four chickens and at present have no plans to acquire more. I just want enough eggs for my family and friends. I don't consider my experience to be life changing, not the type of aha moment I think you’re looking for.
I didn't want Mike to think the time he'd spent commenting was wasted, so I wrote and told him about what I believe are my life's authentic "aha moments." Maybe he'll write back and let me know if he feels those are as exciting as me being a bona fide chicken farmer.
All this has started me thinking. If the mere mention of being a chicken farmer can garner attention from several states away, and an invite to share my experience, perhaps the main character in my next story should be a chicken farmer.
Food (no pun intended) for thought.
By the way, my new fowl-feathered friends are now happily clucking away in the coop my husband indeed built today. Here's a peek:
June 2, 2009
A New Career
So, when I was washing dishes this afternoon I got a bright idea. I decided I needed a new career. Not a replacement for the ones I already have--I love what I do--but something to add even more dimension to my already crazy life. I hope you're not shocked or appalled but here it is:
I've decided to become a chicken farmer.
That's right, a chicken farmer. It's probably not the correct term--I tried chicken rancher, chicken grower, chicken cultivator--and nothing sounded right but chicken farmer. Once I had the moniker down, I proceeded to take action.
"Hello, honey. How's your day? Hey, you know how hard I'm working on gardening this year, trying to raise as much produce as I can to help save money. Well, think how much we could save if we had our own eggs."
There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. "No, I am not going to come home tonight and build a chicken coop."
"Just a little one?"
"No."
"How about a couple of chickens then?"
"Where are you going to put them?"
"In the chicken coop."
"I'm not going to build a chicken coop tonight."
"How about tomorrow then?"
Heavy sigh and groan. "Let me think about it."
"Okay, honey. . .you know chickens are only four dollars a piece--that's a sixteen dollar investment for countless dollars saved on eggs."
No response.
"Love you!"
After I walked over to my neighbor's house to ask if she was interested in becoming a partner in my chicken co-op, my husband called back. "Okay, go get your chickens."
My ten-year-old was elated. "Yahoo! Chickens. I'm going to name them Indiana Jones, The Lone Ranger. . ."
"There will no chicken naming," I said. "We can't get attached to them. They're an investment in our future, emergency preparedness with beaks."
"No little scarves?"
"No knitting of chicken scarves, the scarf for the duck was an exception. These chickens will likely end up alongside dumplings one day."
When we arrived at IFA we were ushered into the livestock area. "Do you want meat chickens, or laying hens?"
"Laying hens, please. We plan to eat them when they stop laying."
"You don't want to do that. Laying hens taste horrible."
My daughter breathed a deep sigh of relief as she ran for the chicken enclosure. "Indian Jones!" she sang out with elation.
Back home it was our oldest Husky who was elated. Though she'd never seen chickens before, she decided Colonel Sanders had it all wrong. Who needed to fry when there was chicken tartare?
To be continued.
I've decided to become a chicken farmer.
That's right, a chicken farmer. It's probably not the correct term--I tried chicken rancher, chicken grower, chicken cultivator--and nothing sounded right but chicken farmer. Once I had the moniker down, I proceeded to take action.
"Hello, honey. How's your day? Hey, you know how hard I'm working on gardening this year, trying to raise as much produce as I can to help save money. Well, think how much we could save if we had our own eggs."
There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. "No, I am not going to come home tonight and build a chicken coop."
"Just a little one?"
"No."
"How about a couple of chickens then?"
"Where are you going to put them?"
"In the chicken coop."
"I'm not going to build a chicken coop tonight."
"How about tomorrow then?"
Heavy sigh and groan. "Let me think about it."
"Okay, honey. . .you know chickens are only four dollars a piece--that's a sixteen dollar investment for countless dollars saved on eggs."
No response.
"Love you!"
After I walked over to my neighbor's house to ask if she was interested in becoming a partner in my chicken co-op, my husband called back. "Okay, go get your chickens."
My ten-year-old was elated. "Yahoo! Chickens. I'm going to name them Indiana Jones, The Lone Ranger. . ."
"There will no chicken naming," I said. "We can't get attached to them. They're an investment in our future, emergency preparedness with beaks."
"No little scarves?"
"No knitting of chicken scarves, the scarf for the duck was an exception. These chickens will likely end up alongside dumplings one day."
When we arrived at IFA we were ushered into the livestock area. "Do you want meat chickens, or laying hens?"
"Laying hens, please. We plan to eat them when they stop laying."
"You don't want to do that. Laying hens taste horrible."
My daughter breathed a deep sigh of relief as she ran for the chicken enclosure. "Indian Jones!" she sang out with elation.
Back home it was our oldest Husky who was elated. Though she'd never seen chickens before, she decided Colonel Sanders had it all wrong. Who needed to fry when there was chicken tartare?
To be continued.
May 29, 2009
May 27, 2009
May 22, 2009
May 20, 2009
The Person I'm Trying to Become
For the past week or so I've forgotten to look in the mirror.
I've taken maybe a glance or two at myself, but not a good hard look. I'm not talking about a check my teeth, check my makeup, or check my bangs because remarks made by my seventh grade art teacher still haunt me kind of look. What I have neglected to do is take stock the person I'm trying to become.
Usually, when contemplating myself and my actions, I search for three things: faith, courage, and commitment. Since for me the very act of getting out of bed in the morning requires some measure of faith--a choice to believe what I know in my heart to be true, despite forces of opposition that try to convince me otherwise--I count being up and going as positives. Courage is a bit more complicated. Courage involves actually doing something over and above merely existing. If I'm moving forward at a steady pace in all the important areas of my life I'm doing alright. If not I know I need to reexamine the multi-faceted issue of faith.
Faith the sun will come up, faith my Father in Heaven and Savior love me, and faith in the truthfulness of the gospel I love all come easy. Faith in myself is the hard part. Prayer and scripture study reaffirm the knowledge of my potential. And, when I do exhibit courage, taking a step or two into uncharted zones where Heavenly father asks me to venture, my faith is strengthened.
I never cease to be amazed how faith and courage intertwine.
Commitment is my promise to myself and my creator (as well as to grandmothers who have passed on, but who still expect me to always do my best in their absence) that I will not stop having faith and courage until my very last breath, and then some.
So how did I allow myself to fall by the wayside?
It started with a few simple things--silly things, really--which, piled one on top of another in rapid succession this past several days, began to cause me a great deal of frustration. Today when the computer again refused to work, a temporary cap popped off my tooth, a swarm of hornets battled with me for rights to the mailbox, a friend's teenager caused a disaster I had to remedy, and a wild bird flew through the house leaving little evidences of its presence, I realized I'd spent ten hours accomplishing nothing of significance. I strode over to a mirror. Did I have a bull's-eye on my forehead? Was I marked for disaster?
Faith, courage, and commitment were definitely waning.
Funny how little bumps in the road of life can become daunting obstacles if we allow them to. The whining I felt inclined to do would not serve me well; I wanted more than a transitory fix. I put a smile on my face, wiped the bird poop off my hand, and started over.
I've taken maybe a glance or two at myself, but not a good hard look. I'm not talking about a check my teeth, check my makeup, or check my bangs because remarks made by my seventh grade art teacher still haunt me kind of look. What I have neglected to do is take stock the person I'm trying to become.
Usually, when contemplating myself and my actions, I search for three things: faith, courage, and commitment. Since for me the very act of getting out of bed in the morning requires some measure of faith--a choice to believe what I know in my heart to be true, despite forces of opposition that try to convince me otherwise--I count being up and going as positives. Courage is a bit more complicated. Courage involves actually doing something over and above merely existing. If I'm moving forward at a steady pace in all the important areas of my life I'm doing alright. If not I know I need to reexamine the multi-faceted issue of faith.
Faith the sun will come up, faith my Father in Heaven and Savior love me, and faith in the truthfulness of the gospel I love all come easy. Faith in myself is the hard part. Prayer and scripture study reaffirm the knowledge of my potential. And, when I do exhibit courage, taking a step or two into uncharted zones where Heavenly father asks me to venture, my faith is strengthened.
I never cease to be amazed how faith and courage intertwine.
Commitment is my promise to myself and my creator (as well as to grandmothers who have passed on, but who still expect me to always do my best in their absence) that I will not stop having faith and courage until my very last breath, and then some.
So how did I allow myself to fall by the wayside?
It started with a few simple things--silly things, really--which, piled one on top of another in rapid succession this past several days, began to cause me a great deal of frustration. Today when the computer again refused to work, a temporary cap popped off my tooth, a swarm of hornets battled with me for rights to the mailbox, a friend's teenager caused a disaster I had to remedy, and a wild bird flew through the house leaving little evidences of its presence, I realized I'd spent ten hours accomplishing nothing of significance. I strode over to a mirror. Did I have a bull's-eye on my forehead? Was I marked for disaster?
Faith, courage, and commitment were definitely waning.
Funny how little bumps in the road of life can become daunting obstacles if we allow them to. The whining I felt inclined to do would not serve me well; I wanted more than a transitory fix. I put a smile on my face, wiped the bird poop off my hand, and started over.
May 18, 2009
My First Award
I'm honored to have received the "One Lovely Blog Award" from super sweet Camryn Hartle of Mean Mommy University.
Thanks, Camryn!
I will display the award with pride in my sidebar, as well as (a printed version) on the side of my computer screen. In keeping with the rules I've been asked to pass on the love and bestow the award to 15 of my favorite blogs. Easier said than done. In no particular order, here they are:
The Beginning of Motherhood
NICU nurse Rachel Leavitt explores the journey of giving birth with an online art and photography exhibit. Last year I was excited to have her include one of the photos I took of my granddaughter, Abbie. Rachel's also got an essay contest coming up (check it out--she's offering a $100 prize), and I enjoy her posts over on CraziBeautifulWomen.com.
Turn Your Thumb Green
Need a garden coach? Want you Houttuynia to grow and flourish? Brilliant Tersa Crawford provides tips on how to get your yard and garden to look their blooming best. She hosts a bevy of horticultural links, and she loves to answer gardening questions. Tersa also blogs at CBW.
The Chocolate Chip Waffle
http://thechocolatechipwaffle.blogspot.com/
I'm a recent fan of this blog. I love Terresa's wit and wisdom.
Wisdom Teeth and Everyday Curiosities
http://everdaycuriousities.blogspot.com/
Whether you're there for a simple cleaning, or a wisdom tooth extraction, hang on for a root awakening. My oldest daughter just started this new blog. I'm excited to read about her day-to-day family life, and her work in a dental office.
Queen of the Clan
http://queenoftheclan.blogspot.com/
I just discovered this blog as well. Danyelle's enthusiasm for life and writing is contagious. I love this happy little bright spot on the net!
A Future for Tomorrow
http://afuturefortomorrow.blogspot.com/
Author Haley Hatch Freeman blogs about self-esteem and eating disorders. Haley is an anorexia survivor who has written a powerful book that takes a hard look at the disorder, and which celebrates the fact it can be overcome. The story of Haley's spiritual journey is a must read for anyone with teenage girls.
Kevin & Amanda
http://www.kevinandamanda.com/whatsnew/
This blog is a delightful romp through life with lots of wonderful recipes, crafts, gardening tidbits, and home decor ideas, tossed together with helpful digital scrap booking stuff and blog design tutorials.
Pink Ink
http://pink-ink-pink.blogspot.com/
Follow beautiful multi-talented Jewel as she talks about her life and writing. Though she's not afraid of spiders--and I am--I thoroughly enjoy her insightful posts.
Tristi Pinkston
http://tristipinkston.blogspot.com/
The author of a just released novel, Agent in Old Lace, Tristi puts a smile on my face with her tales of the writing life. Check out her blog for a pictorial essay on the arrival of her new baby (book), and for a side-splitting guest post on Tedward and Stella by guest blogger Spencer McKay.
Not Entirely British
http://annebradshaw.blogspot.com/
Author Anne Bradshaw's blog is always entertaining and informative. Find some of your favorite authors here and win their books.
Whew! That was only ten. I'll post the next five more later in the week. If you have a blog you'd like me to visit, please leave a comment or drop me an email.
May 15, 2009
National Chocolate Chip Day--and a real Sweet Interview
Though its origins are unknown National Chocolate Chip Day--today--celebrates the enjoyment of chocolate chips.
Who can argue with that?
I thought it fitting I pay homage by interviewing a chocolate connoisseur, Tristi Pinkston.
You can find my interview with her here
Who can argue with that?
I thought it fitting I pay homage by interviewing a chocolate connoisseur, Tristi Pinkston.
You can find my interview with her here
or by clicking on the link to my writing blog
in the sidebar.
May 14, 2009
Hat Day
Definition: a day when life is so crazy that
I don't have time to work on looking presentable
enough to go out in public, but I have to go out in
public so I throw on a hat and a pair of sunglasses
and hope no body recognizes me.
I you saw someone in a pink Gap hat and an old, ill-fitting
pair of sunglasses rushing around at warp speed today
it was probably me. The pink hat is for weekdays,
the moose hat gets worn on Saturdays.
Just kidding.
Actually, sometimes I wear the moose hat on Mondays.
May 11, 2009
The Weekend in Pictures
the kid
the ball 
the game
sidelined by the flu (no, not the swine variety)
the coach
loving what she does
sisters
the ball 
the game
sidelined by the flu (no, not the swine variety)
the coach
loving what she does
sisters
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