What does your finish line look like?

It was a beautiful day for a run.  So I ran and I thought.  I think a lot when I run, in fact my best inspiration comes while running.   Today I thought about the last half marathon I ran.  The first 9 miles were down a steep canyon.  It made for a very fast pace along with very cramped muscles.   I worried at any point my muscles might seize up and I would be laying on the side of the road grabbing my leg in sheer agony like a few of the fellow racers I had passed.  It was not a pretty sight, it really didn't look fun and I really didn't want to join them.  Eventually, the steep canyon leveled out and flat land mixed with hills emerged.  I felt like I was running in quick sand.  I was barely moving.  The only thought playing over and over again in my mind was... Where's the end?  Around every turn I searched for any sign of a finish line.  I just wanted to be done.

 Finally, the end was in sight and I broke into a full out sprint to squelch the agony.  When I quit running, my leg seized up into a full cramp all the way down to my toes.  The very thing I had hoped to avoid I had hit head on.  I was inwardly freaking out and looking around for emergency aid.  I tried to pull my foot the opposite direction to ease the cramp out and I felt it releasing its grip.  Then I noticed tables for massages, I thought this would help my predicament.  It is here that I should mention that I wasn't running this race alone.  I had come with my sister and my son, Jesse and this was Jesse's first half marathon.  I knew my sister's pace would be around the 2 hour mark and Jesse's I thought would be a little before that.   I thought I had enough time to get a massage and still get back to see them finish.   The massage took longer than expected and I hurriedly hobbled off  in search of them.  To my disappointment, when I saw them they were already at the car.   My sister asked where I was. She was looking all through the crowds for me as she ran towards the finish line. ( And her pics on the homebound stretch verified that she was telling the truth- every pic. showed her with this searching look on her face.)  She was hoping to find me cheering for her,  but I wasn't there.  I thought I would have enough time to do both.  I didn't.

The consequences of not being able to see my son finish his first half marathon and cheer my sister over the finish line still fills me with regret.  I wish I could go back and choose differently, but since I can't...learning is my consolation prize.  I learned time is fleeting.  We may not have time to do all we want to do in life.  We have to choose.  We have to decide what is most important to us every day. If we don't prioritize, we will find ourselves in the thick of thin things.  I took a good look at myself and saw the things that I proclaimed were important to me weren't showing up on my radar every day.  God was important to me, but personal scripture study wasn't happening every day.  Some days were busy and I didn't get around to it.  If He is the most important thing in my life.... why were other things taking precedence?  Or my family, they are the greatest treasure to me on earth and yet again on some days I was so busy or tired that I didn't have time or energy left to spend quality time with them.

Whether we realize it or not, there is a finish line and there are consequences for the choices we are making here.  Some people don't believe it or don't care, but that doesn't change the reality.  The scriptures talk of judgement day for everyone and there is no way around it.  The way we spend our time and the choices we make determine destiny.

I hope to write a better ending to my life's race.  That when my sister looks for me, I am there cheering her on.  I hope when my son is accomplishing his goals that I am there to rejoice with him and I hope when my race is over and I am there before God that I can look up at Him confidently knowing I ran well the race He set before me.

Keep Trying... has victory written all over it.

It was Sunday- 2 days of watching General Conference (Talks from Prophet and apostles and leaders from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter day Saints) was over.  I listened.  I took notes.  I felt inspired and then what.  

Well, after having been scrunched together on couches in the same room for the majority of the two days- we needed out.  We went outside to bask in the sun.  Some just wanted to sit and let the sun warm them and not be bothered.  Others were full of energy and kept running round the house begging me to time them as they ran.  And so began my 1-mississippi, 2-mississippi counting as they ran faster and faster trying to beat the last run time.  Then began tag.  How do these things start?  At first it was easy- there were 2 other people besides myself who wouldn't get off the porch chairs so I would just lean over and tag one of them and then yell no tags back, insuring I had a little rest before I got tagged again.  Then one person moved from the chairs, now it was more complicated, if you were sitting and the person next to you tagged you, you now had to venture out to find someone else.  Ugh- I now needed to go get shoes- I grabbed the shoes closest to the door, my 10 year old daughter's, pink flip-flops.  I came out, she was the first to notice her shoes on my feet and her facial expression clearly revealed she was not pleased with my shoe selection, but her face quickly changed once I ran after her.  She then realized flip flops did slow me down and gave her a better chance of remaining tag free and she made no further comments.

Now everyone was up off the porch and scattered.  Nick, my 15 yr old- perhaps the fastest runner in the family, at home, at the time- (putting all the clarifications in)- had been tagged and I saw he was coming after me.  My first reaction was... Why are you picking on your tired, flip flop footed mom and then a prideful feeling followed...  (I'm not proud of it)  I'll make you sorry for picking me.  I ran out of the yard and through the orchards, where the bee man had recently left cubes of hives of bees everywhere for pollinating, so bees were everywhere. I thought for sure that would change his mind and he would go after someone else.  

After having run up several rows, I looked back to see where he was.  He was still there.  Seriously?  I ran on.  I did an elaborate scheme of criss cross through the orchard, making it hard to detect which direction I was heading.  I looked back, now out of the orchard and on to the other side of an open field.  I could still see him coming for me!  Really, this is ridiculous! 

 But I am not to be deterred... I  mean I exercise all the time, I have run several races, surely he will see there are easier targets than me and give up at some point.  I run on.. so does he.  I run crossing the water ditch canal and look back.. now out of breath... he is still coming.  I yell at him "Stop chasing me!!!"  He does not.  I realize I must run again.  This time around an empty plowed up field.  I see my mistake as I look back, the trail I have taken goes around and he is running straight across instead of taking the trail and has broken any distance I had created.  I now just run- no longer looking back. I now curse my quickly chosen shoe selection!  

Within another minute or two I am caught.  My only victory is that he is out of breath and sweating profusely.  He puts his sweaty arm around me proclaiming, "Sweet Victory!"  He is smiling ear to ear.  I can feel his happiness radiating beyond his being.  It is a tough half mile to endure home, especially with him basking in glory and me resigned to digesting a full helping of humble pie.

It is only after I get home that I decide to watch the only session of conference I had missed- Priesthood session and it is here that I discover the reason for Nick's victory.  Several talks were given encouraging one to never give up.  No matter how difficult a problem or trial- to be steadfast and keep trying and you will gain the victory.  It seems Nick had not only listened to the messages, but had taken them to heart.  I sat there no longer disgruntled over my loss, but smiling that my son had experimented upon the message, tried to live it and found for himself that it was true. His example led me back to my own conference notes I had taken and seeking the Spirit to find which ones I needed to work on. I found a few and hope that I will be just as committed as he was and no matter how hard the journey of change becomes that I will, like him, just keep trying until I have tasted sweet victory.

Something is beginning to grow...

I like to watch the news while I work out in the mornings.  Working out pumps me up.  I feel exuberant afterwards.  But this last week, I hurt my knee and I haven't seen the sun for days and with the latest news stories, I found myself in the dumps.  I watched story after story unfold, marijuana being sold in stores in Colorado and long lines formed out the doors, people waiting in the winter cold to purchase it legally.  I looked at the faces of the people buying it, they were regular folks, young and old and everything in between.  I couldn't believe it.  Then the next segment, a pop star in court twice this week for different incidents.  One of them involved with drag racing and being high on marijuana and prescription drugs and alcohol. Oh yes, drugs are such a good idea, let's legalize more... they make our world so much better!  Rounding off the morning segment is a couple who killed his ex-girlfriend, leaving two small children without a mom.  What a great world we live in!

I sunk in deeper to the gloom, feeling helpless to change it.  The world is spiraling out of control because of people's choices.  Really it all comes down to that.  And if I could get every person to understand one thing  it would be this... Yes you are free to make any choice you want, but your choices will affect more than just you. We are all connected.

 I share exhibit A.  When I was in this frustrated with the world mode, I was transferring how I felt to those around me unknowingly until my daughter voiced how she was feeling, "I just feel agitated and I don't know why."  And then I did a self check... oh yeah, that's me.  My frustration spread like a virus, infecting everyone I came in contact with. 

Then I watched a link on facebook, where these two guys decided to perform random acts of kindness and videoed what happened.  It was awesome.  They paid for the lunch of the car behind them and the guy hears his meal is paid for by the car in front of him and a smile spreads across his face and he flips a thumbs up to those guys.  Then the same two guys leave $500 for a cleaning lady at a hotel.  This girl was having a hard time and when she pulls back the covers and sees the $500 in $20 bill increments, her hand goes to her mouth in incredulity, tears come to her eyes.  She can't believe it.  I feel tears start to come to my eyes and I feel goodness return.  I feel it again later that night when my small son comes to my room with a leg ache.  I rub his leg to try to make it better as he whimpers.  I then go to get medicine.  I watch as he still moans in pain and then I see him on his own, crawl out from under the covers and kneel to say a prayer.  Goodness envelopes my heart.

Though the world may be gray and gloomy, though not everyone has figured out yet that their choices matter and affect others, goodness is still here and if we want to find it... we will have to hang around really good people all the time or become it ourselves.  I realized if I wanted to change the world... I needed to start with changing me.  If I wanted to see goodness, I needed to create it. 

Yesterday it began as I took the time to sit and read with my child, then later smiled at a stranger in the store, then wished someone well that was sick and sent up prayers for them and others in need.  Today is another day to look around and plant some good seeds and I can't help but notice the dark clouds that loomed around for days and held me prisoner have given way to the sun.  It is shining bright and I can't help but think that something good is growing.

Battling for the Christmas Spirit

It's that holly jolly time of year, so they say. But just thinking about all the preparations of Christmas stalls me in my tracks. The decorating, the baking, the shopping (ugh), the wrapping (oh my), the trying to make it a special time that the children will remember and cherish always bring me to my knees. It requires a lot of work, a lot of get up early mornings and late into the evenings and exhaustion etched in my face and body. And so Christmas- is not my favorite time of the year and it kills me to admit that.

So when my daughter, Chrissy said "Mom let's put the tree up!" on November 28th. I thought, in my head.... NO!!!! But outwardly I said... (Hmmm. I don't think I said anything.) I think I was hoping my silence would say it all. But she did not take silence for no, she took it instead as let's do it!  And she did. Starting with the first problem.  Problem #1- Move the couch upstairs. This first hurdle was worsened by the fact that- a) Jordan wasn't here; we were down in man power and b) Dad fell off his truck tire and onto the back of his truck while trying to get in the tool box and fractured some ribs- Two men down significantly hampers sofa moving... upstairs no less. But Chrissy- now adorned in her Santa hat was not deterred. She emboldened the rest of us that we could do this. She reminded me of how strong I was... (This was true- I didn't get the nickname Muscle Mama for nothing :) (Wait- I think that was a self proclaimed title... and it really didn't catch on as I recall- nonetheless- she was remembering now and I was heeding the call!) We moved that couch upstairs like it was only a hefty recliner instead of the lofty couch it was! And then Problem #2- it didn't fit upstairs- rearranging was needed. So we rotated the furniture once- nope it didn't fit- then twice- it just didn't feel right. Three times- a full rotation now everything had now been moved and as we set the couch down- a scratching sound was heard, even downstairs where Duane was and he came barreling up the stairs to see what was the matter. Unfortunately, my spatial skills never have been very good and they didn't decide now was their time to step up their performance. Thus the couch came down on my side against the stair railing and nicked and scratched the wood all the way down until the couch came to its resting spot. CRAP! But the good thing is if anyone else had done it, I would have had a flipping conniption, but since it was me I could only blame myself.  Dang it! I was done. Moving 2 couches 3 times was enough and now I had a permanent souvenir on my railing to remind me of this joyous occasion. Ugh Christmas!

But Chrissy went on. She got out the Christmas tree that already had the lights on it. So that was one less stress for me to handle since that was always my job. Problem #3 It didn't look right. She asked me to come see the tree. I told her in my exhausted state that it would be fine. She didn't relent. I crawled down the stairs. She was right. The tree was too small. It was a corner tree and we had just taken the sofa up leaving the entire window area open for the tree to be displayed. This was no good. We would have to pack out Big Bertha and put her up branch by stinkin branch.

And so Chrissy took down Scrawny and went back to the garage still humming a Christmas carol and dragged out the two tubs of Big Bertha and got little Cassidee to help her lay it out from largest to smallest to put it up. And so they did. Problem #4- Big Bertha did not earn that name by accident. She didn't fully fit in the tub and one lid was a skewed. The branches in that tree did not look right, neither did they smell right. There was massive dust balls gathered throughout the branches. A fainter heart would have shrunk at this point. But Chrissy got out the vacuum and sucked up all the dust and material matted on the branches and got the Christmas pine scented spray out and sprayed each branch and no one would have guessed their previous condition.

And now it was time for lights. I felt compelled to help now; she had been through so much without a word of complaint- still holly- still jolly. Problem #5- We need three strands of lights for Big Bertha and as we tested out the lights only 2 worked- of course. An idea emerged, take the lights off of Scrawny and put them on Big Bertha. So as I wound the first string of lights around the tree, Chrissy and Nick endeavored to take out Scrawny again-since she had already been put away and try to unravel a white set of lights off of her. There were white strands of lights mixed with red strands on Scrawny. It was another daunting task, but they prevailed. Once Chrissy got those lights untangled she held the lights for me as I weaved around the tree so they wouldn't get tangled. Putting up lights had never been easier!

It was then that Chrissy took off the Santa hat and wrapped a Christmas ribbon around her head in warrior fashion (and truly she had earned Christmas Warrior status). And soon thereafter I felt a wrapping go around my head as she tied one on me and her little helper Cassidee. It was ornament time and all the family emerged for this. Many ornaments triggered memories of Christmas's past. There was Jordan in Kindergarten and then his latest ornament with his missionary picture. I shed a tear. This would be Jordan's last Christmas with us for the next couple of years. Then they handed me my Dad's remembrance ornament. "Man among Men" more tears. And home made crocheted ornaments from a neighbor growing up and all of Mom's Welcome to Christmas ornaments and the precious ones of baby Jesus that we tenderly placed in the center of our tree. The tree was full and so was my heart. It was the best trimming of the tree I could remember. I never yelled once or ended up decorating the tree by myself. We were all there. Kids decorating. Dad taking pics.

And we had found it... the Christmas spirit.... in full abundance. There was laughter in the air, there was Mom remember this one?..., there was crazy poses for pics and there was love all around. I looked at my Christmas warrior daughter, yes she had fought the good fight and she had won. I felt such gratitude that she had never lost the Christmas spirit during the whole ordeal and that she had helped us all to find it.

My wish to you dear ones-May you also find the Christmas spirit and when you do.... don't let it go. Keep fighting for it during shopping, baking, outside light hanging, wrapping and trying to make it a cherished Christmas for all! May you remember the one who slept in the manger and hangs in the center of the tree and loves and lives for us. He is the reason for the season. May we be like Him and look to make someone else's burden lighter. May we spread the joy around and hum a tune when things are tough. Battle on Christmas Warriors battle on!  For finding the spirit of Christ... is worth the battle.

What I didn't know... what I know now

It's been a year today that I lost my Dad. I don't think anyone could tell me how it would feel.  Before he died, he was in so much pain, I just wanted relief for him. But I didn't know I would miss him every day thereafter.  I didn't know that every thing he ever taught me would re-surface as I thought of him. I didn't know that every time I chopped a potato I would think of him and how I knew he would tell me there is a more efficient way to do it and then go to show me how and end up chopping rest of the potatoes for me. I can't pick up a knife and not think of him. I didn't know that I wouldn't be able to listen to the song "Home" by Michael Buble' without crying every time I heard it, no matter where I might be. I didn't know how much I would miss seeing his anticipated look when we finally arrived at his home and of course the welcoming hug. I didn't know how often I would look back and think of all the times I could have spent a minute longer with him and didn't.  He wasn't a big talker by trade, but in the last months he didn't want to be alone so he would always try to keep a conversation going. I wish I had spent more time.  It just felt like the end would never come. I always would have another chance... but those chances are gone. The end does come and so does regret.

I didn't know what greatness was. I thought it was doing big things, having a big stage, touching lots of lives. I found it was instead in the small things. It was taking care of your family and always being there for them. It was reaching out to your neighbor and lifting another's burden. It was letting others know you love them and backing up those words with action. I found it was doing your duty day in and day out, whether you wanted to or not because you fulfill your responsibilities and don't let others down. I found it was doing the right things whether anyone else saw or not. I found my Dad to be a man of profound greatness. I knew it before, but so much more now.

When I got the call that he was going downhill for the last time, I sped the 10 hours home to be with him. He was mostly unconscious when I got there. I got to see his last words spoken though. It was to his neighbors, the Knightons. When Dad saw them, an urgency came across his being, he had something important he must tell them. But Dave spoke first and told him, " Ford, we love you and we will take care of Dianne. You don't have to worry, we got her." When my Dad heard that, the urgency left, his last responsibility was going to be taken care of and he was at peace. He made out the words, I love you...and those were the last words he uttered. I wish there had been more. I wish we could have had a big family hugging party at the end with him and all said the words in our hearts, but if they hadn't been said earlier they were left unsaid... I hope he can hear them now. I didn't know that I would still pray for my Dad after he was gone. I just tell God how much I love him and miss him and to let him know that... ok? I didn't know that at every special occasion, his absence would be immensely felt, but also on the flip side I didn't know that at some very special moments I would get to feel him so close that I knew without doubt he was there.

When I remember him, I think about those who didn't ever get to know my Dad and how they missed out. I guess they will have to get to know him through those whom he left behind. I think I can only honor him now by my life. Try to live the way he did. Be kind, be compassionate, have time for others, never leave a conflict without the other person knowing that I still love them, be generous, if someone else lacks and I have... to give- let it be theirs. I will never be the amazing person he was, but I will try to reflect what he taught me, so others can know my Dad. I can't help but think of the Savior when I think of him. He mirrored the Savior in so many ways. I know Christ must have meant so much to him because of how hard my Dad tried to live like Him. I can only try to do the same.
Dad- thanks for your example. Today I join with all the others to pay my respects and express my gratitude for having had you in my life. You made a profound difference and I will always remember and never forget.  I hope you know it.
Love always- your daughter Tina

Apples, Apples and more apples

If I had to describe my summer in one word it'd be... apples. This crazy little thing happened in the Spring- the thinning chemicals didn't work and we were left with a lot of self thinning on our hands.

One would think thinning apples would be an easy job. But it was hard to me because I felt I was determining the fate of each apple. With the snip of my clippers, they either lived on or died- never able to develop into their full potential. I realize most (maybe ALL other apple thinners in the world) do not feel this dilemma. But most days, I felt this conflict and the only way that I could come to terms with their fate is that my job was simply to cut the smallest so that the tree could give more of its nutrients to the ones that were big and growing. If they weren't cut, the tree would be overloaded, branches would break, most of the apples would be small because the tree was stressed and the market value on small apples surprisingly is small as well. It was that simple they had to be cut for the good of the whole. So I tried not to personalize it because if I were an apple, I would be a small one and meet the fate of the clippers and never have the chance to see what my full potential looked like.

This is our growing season. Don't waste it away. I can tell you this about apples. The ones that grew big- received nutrients and were in a position to receive more light and they were not hanging on a stressed out tree. So look at yourself today- Are you growing? Are you taking care of yourself making healthy lifestyle choices? Exercise, healthy food, self-discipline, overcoming addictions. Are you putting yourself in places where you can receive more light? On your knees, in the scriptures, at church, in the temple. Are you stressed? Turn it over to the Lord. Trust that He can make all things work for your good. I can't help but think if we follow the pattern of apples, we too will grow and one day realize our full potential.

And all of this from thinning apples.... who knew? :)

Letting Go

The day had come- the one you knew would,

since the day they entered kindergarten. Graduation. The night before I was unable to sleep. My baby boy graduates in the morning, then he'll work all summer, off to college in the fall and gone for 2 years on a mission. In essence, this was the beginning of good-bye. What could I do to make these last moments special. I decided to wake up early and decorate his car and make him breakfast.

At 6:30, I am outside with school color blue marker in hand writing how much we loved him and to Honk for the new graduate! Then I blow up balloons-4 blue and 1 big yellow one. On Big Yellow, I carefully write, "You are Our Sunshine"- That was the song we sang to him when he was little. I tied them all up on the passenger side. I looked at the decked out car and felt a masterpiece stood before me. It was done. Now for breakfast.

I'm off making waffles and homemade blueberry topping with sausage and bacon and I hear the graduate steps coming down the stairs with gown in hand- Can you iron this? Of course I can. I go to take it. He goes to walk back up the stairs when I hear a change of plans and the front door opens instead. He must have noticed my handiwork through the window. A second later the door closes again and back up the stairs he goes with no comments, like WOW! You got up in the wee hours of the morning and did this for me! Thanks Mom. OR Man! What great penmanship! or Those hearts were so artistically pleasing! Or Hey! that message on the balloon touched me right here as he points to his heart. No. Just a door close and pounding of footsteps back up the stairs.

He rushes back down after showering and finds Grandma had finished ironing his gown while I finished making breakfast. He sits to eat a few bites and declares it's time to go. The next thing I hear is the door opening and a loud "pop" and then he's back in the house with balloons in hand which he had cut off and threw on the ground and a defiant declaration- "Just so you know, the yellow one is popped." and off he went.

My heart felt just like that big yellow balloon. I was crushed. I wanted to cry. I thought I can't be mad- we have to go to graduation and if I'm mad then I'll ruin the mood for everyone else. So I tried to think happy thoughts. Duane also tried to offer me consolatory words. "It was your gift to him and he received it, maybe not the way you wanted him to, but it was his gift and he could do with it what he wanted."

"OK, I can let this go."

Letting go. That's what I was really doing wasn't it? Trying to find a way to let go of the baby who was now a young man and taking off. I reasoned with myself, keeping him home wouldn't be any good. I mean I would know he was safe and cared for, but he wouldn't progress, he wouldn't be tested and come to know himself and his strengths and abilities and he wouldn't become what he was meant to become. So I had to let him go. As these thoughts lingered, the parallels of eternal truths impressed upon me. And thus we had to come to earth to get a body and have this mortal experience so we could be tested and progress and become what we were meant to become. This graduation was but a dress rehearsal of life and our purpose here.

So I let the pain of popped balloons float off to oblivion and headed to graduation with a different attitude of letting go- this was just a step on his journey. Not the end and thanks to his antics, I was finding it easier to let go... the little scamp! :)

But once seated in the stadium next to the loud speakers blaring good bye songs and seeing the array of blue robed graduates entering the field- the tears came, dripping down my face like a leaky faucet. I needed to see my boy. Everything was a blur. I called out frantically to Duane, "Help me find Jordan!" He enlisted the kids' help and within seconds we spotted our sunshine amidst the sea of blue. Tufts of blond hair sticking out from his cap and with his laid back walking style like he was headed to McDonald's instead of on one of the momentous walks of his life. He jumped up and high fived his walking mate and then later receiving his diploma, did a signature move of brushing off his shoulder- like no sweat! The graduates were then moved out to the field with beach balls bouncing up in the air and tassels being switched to the right side and caps being flung into the air with gusto and whoops of elation exploding the arena. They had done it!

We rushed the field to find our boy and congratulate him. The darn tears were escaping again as my boy came into view. I reached the one who allots me only one brief hug a day at bed time and if it lasts any longer than a second, a push away is quickly applied. Surprisingly, he relented his one second hug rule, maybe it was the throngs of witnesses there, or he was in a nostalgic haze, or maybe he just had compassion on his emotional mommy who longed to hug her boy. Whatever the judgement call, he let me in and I laid my head on his chest and tried to hold back the wave of emotions ready to crest. I reminded myself, "Tina, we are taking pictures after this, do you want a mascara stained face looking back at you for years to come?" Well, that little self-chat did the job and I reined the tears back in and just held my boy. Yeah, this was the moment I would remember for years to come, when my boy let me hold him... without letting go.

Congratulations Graduates of 2011! You did it! And hugs to all the Moms out there- who are letting them go.