Jul 27, 2010


In Old West Ranch where we had thought about moving. Already 30 homes have been lost. I think they need our prayers.

Jul 19, 2010


Ok so I'm answering the slice of life post.
Bugs are my friends!
You would think I was brought up in a home of Budist monks... instead of a bunch of Southern (swat/splat/spray) women.
I wasn't always so merciful. But I prided myself on being able to kill without running or screaming. I'd just stomp them with no fear. Except spiders, I'd stomp them but the fear was the motivation.
I don't know when, but I realized most bugs aren't out to get me and suddenly I can't kill them without reason. And that reason has to be more than just inconvience.
Now there's two slightly horrifying stories to go with this.
One. I ws explaining my feelings to one of my friends one day and she looked down at the side walk at some ants that were crawling by and stomped and twisted. Then she looked at me very pleased with herself and said, "Guess I'm not to that level yet." LOL. She's a corker. But I feel bad that my comment cost those ants their lives. Oh my.
Then there was my husband. He's been having to deal with this and one day (I don't remember what kind of bug it was) but he thought it had somehow tried to hurt me. So his defence button was pushed. I caught it in a paper towel and asked him to take it outside. He carried it about three feet then "accidently dropped it", then thud/splat! "Woops". LOL, yeah right.
I don't tip toe over them, but I try not to hurt them if they don't hurt me first.
PS Mom, misquitos and black widdows are exceptions to thhis. I must protect my babies after all.

Jul 15, 2010

The Price of Imperfection

I see you
Play peek-a-boo
Wondering what the world is made of.
How frustrating it is
That your arms and legs wont move
just the way you want them too.

I see you
Search the mirror each morning
for flaws and imperfections
How heart breaking it is
that your face isn't like
Those picturesque women
Everyone has come to expect

I see you
Complaining to your friends
Of aches and pains
And mysterious lumps
How sad it is
Your body is degrading
So early and so much

I would have chosen each chromosome
To make it perfect if I could
It never would have faded
It would have been immaculately beautiful
It would have learned so much more quickly

But all I could do
Was open up a door
And offer my body for yours

Not my best poetry ever, but this morning I'm sitting here hurting from having a lump removed. Then as I watch my daughter get frustrated that she can't lift herself up the way she wants to, I remembered being so hurt every time I looked in the mirror growing up. My body was too big, too pimply, to awkward.
Then I looked at my daughter and thought how perfect her body is. It isn't "perfect", in came from imperfection; but it was just the vessel she needed to come to this earth. I would have made it perfect if I could, but all I could do was invite her to come. I am grateful my mother invited me, I know I waited anxiously, this body is what I waited and hoped and dream of.
Then my thoughts turned to the Savior and the price He payed so that I could come down and have a body.
Well, lets just say, "You can color me grateful.", instead of frustrated.

What color is grateful anyway? Do you think it would go with my blue shirt?

Jul 13, 2010


Looking around this blog and my facebook, you wouldn't think there was anything special about me or the way I live my life.
I offer no instructions on how to do this or that.
I offer no intimate look at my life or that of my children.
I offer no insight into a topic of importance or even interest.
I can't even claim consistence in what and when I post.
So, why are you reading this?
Because you're my friend or family and chances are, you haven't checked this sight in a few months.
Oh dear, do you ever wonder why we do the things we do?

Jul 10, 2010

Just found this and it made me so happy!

Taken while up in the bay area.