Making the House Move

The other day I sat watching Lucy spin 'round and 'round until she was so dizzy she had to sit down. Once she was down I watched her gaze at the floor, head still circling and eyes trying to focus. Once she got her bearings she got up and did it again. And again. And again. Although I enjoyed watching the insanity of it, finally I feared the cost of her and my amusement, so I said, "Lucy, please stop doing that." To which she replied, "Why? Because I'm making the house move?"

A Visit To Santa

We made our annual trek to the mall to visit Santa on Monday. It was Emma's turn to be in charge of the activity for Family Home Evening, so off we went, donned in gay apparel. Visiting Santa has a tendency to heighten my anxiety level - some of that may come from my own childhood experiences with the big bearded guy. But as a mom, when the girls were little, I was anxious about them sitting on his lap without a major fit of crying. I was afraid of traumatizing my child while at the same time not wanting the kindly Santa to feel bad because he was traumatizing my child. Now that they are past that stage the anxiety arises from what they'll say when they sit on his lap. This fear of mine is solely the fault of my cute-as-a-button youngest. When she was two she sat serenely next to her sister and when asked, "And what would you like Santa to bring you for Christmas?" the most astonishing thing escaped her lips - "A firetruck." I remember looking at Loren and mouthing, "A firetruck?" Needless to say, where that gift choice came from remains a mystery but to Santa's credit, Lucy found a bright red firetruck waiting for her under the tree on Christmas morning. This year, I wasn't very impressed with Old St. Nick's appearance. The past 3 years we've gone to the mall Santa has been far more authentic looking AND more outgoing. Perhaps he wasn't feeling quite himself when we visited but the girls didn't seem to notice and eagerly climbed up on his lap. (notice Lucy is holding his hand in the photo) So, the big moment came and I leaned in to hear their requests for the year. Emma's response, "A two wheel scooter." I already knew that; no sweat, took care of that on Black Friday. Lucy's answer, "Barbie on a moped..." not breaking news, we'd seen that at Toys R Us and a couple weeks ago they offered free shipping. But just as I thought we were in the clear she took a deep breath and added, "...AND an airplane with two wheels."

Happy Anniversary To Me!

20 September 1998 was the most defining day of my life. It was the day I was baptized by a missionary from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I remember that things were a bit disorganized, as baptisms can be when you belong to a small branch that doesn't have a font of it's own. There were no jumpsuits in my size, but the elders found a very large white dress of sorts that I donned for the occasion. As it turned out, the elder performing the ordinance bungled some part of the prayer so the initial dunking was for naught. After that the flowing folds of my frock floated above the surface of the water nullifying the 2nd and 3rd attempts. Finally, although it was a rather un-ladylike thing to do, I wound the abundance of fabric that swirled about me into a mass that I firmly squeezed between my knees before we proceeded with the fourth and final dousing. Afterward I teased the elder about messing up the prayer saying I wouldn't have had to get so waterlogged had he been more exact with his words. He, in good turn, professed I must have needed the extra submersions that I might stand truly clean before the Lord. In truth and hindsight, he was probably right.

That day in September eleven years ago was the start of a commitment the breadth and depth of which, I admit at the time, I had no idea. Do not misunderstand, I was well prepared and didn't go into things blindly, but as it goes with all of our learning in the gospel, things happen line upon line, here a little, there a little, and so it was and continues to be with me. The one thing that has stayed the same throughout is my unfailing, stalwart testimony that the Book of Mormon, translated by the prophet Joseph Smith, is true. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the only true church on earth and our prophet, Thomas S. Monson leads and guides its members as directed by our Lord and Savior, even the living, Jesus Christ.

I know that I was born with this testimony of the truth, yet it lay sleeping inside me for over thirty years until two missionaries teaching with the Spirit awakened that which I knew not I had. It truly was like coming out of a deep sleep. The elders would say something, (at the time a part of the lesson they had dutifully memorized,) and from somewhere beyond the far-reachings of my consciousness the long-forgotten truth would come through the haze to rest firmly, undeniably, before me. When the elders asked for confirmation of my understanding, many were the times I slowly nodded my head and replied, "Yes, I know...somehow I already know that."

Since then my life has taken many turns as all the while I've walked the straight and narrow. Every good thing that has happened in my life has come to me because of the actions of that September day eleven years ago. Life has not always been easy, but I have never felt a lack of purpose or direction as I did before I became a member of the church. I feel centered and rooted in the gospel - it infiltrates every aspect of my life. The way I walk, dress, speak and see others; what I eat, drink, watch, read, listen to and create; the atmosphere of my home, the way I parent my children, serve in the community and look at that world - all are influenced, all are determined by the teachings of the church. How much better, how much happier I am because of it...

I am forever grateful to those two missionaries that taught me, baptized me and confirmed me a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. They brought the message of love and truth that I was looking for. I am grateful for a loving Heavenly Father who knows me, cares about me, leads and guides me. I am grateful for all the wonderful people I meet through the church, for the example they set for me and the love and support they offer me. Truly, 20 September 1998 was the best day of my life.

Six Flags Great Escape

A Rite of Passage

All cultures have rites of passage - a test or a task that needs completion - something to prove a person is ready to move into the next stage of life. Well, last Wednesday, August 19, 2009, I completed a rite of passage. I had no warning I was about to be tested - no inclination that my life was about to undergo a monumental change....

We had traveled that morning to Lake George, NY and entered the Six Flags Great Escape park in the heat and humidity of early afternoon. We meandered our way to the "Loony Tunes" part of the park and the girls began knocking out the kiddie rides one right after another. The park had all the classic kid rides - the airplanes, the cars, the boats, the train, the swings, the hopper, the sky bus and even a roller coaster! The lines were short and more than once they were able to come off a ride only to re-enter the line and get right back on. They were having a blast.

I was hot. I tried to watch them going round and round from any small spot of shade I could find. I clicked pictures and energetically waved and smiled each time they came round for about the first 2 hours and then it got old. So I started to reminisse about my childhood and the amusement park rides that I loved. After a couple hours of that I wanted to do something - ride something. I wanted to move out of the kiddie area where one must be 54" or shorter to ride. The clock was ticking. It was nearing 5 pm. The park was on shortened hours of operation as the start of the school year was fast approaching. and would close at 7.

I talked the kids into moving on to find something to eat and maybe ride a couple of "family" rides. On our way to an eatery we came to the "Trabant." I was eager to ride - food could wait. I had been sitting out watching the fun for long enough - I wanted to feel the thrill of excitement - I wanted to enjoy the fun, not to mention the rush of the wind would definitely be a nice break from the heat.

Loren was up for it so we entered the gates and got right on. Loren rode with Emma and Lucy was with me. Before the ride started I snapped a couple of pictures and Lucy and I giggled in excitement.














Then it started. Around and around we spun. Faster and faster. Then the platform we were spinning on lifted and shifted up and down, side to side as all the while we continued to go round and round. The ride was in full tilt and Lucy made fun sounds like, "Whoaoaoaoa! Whoaoaoaoaoa!" At one point she asked, "Isn't this fun, Mommy?" I just took a deep breath and squeezed my eyes shut hoping that by not actually seeing the landscape spinning around me I might fool my body into thinking all was well and the overwhelming feeling of motion sickness would subside enough for me to exit the ride without the attendant having to clean up after me.

Maybe my idea worked or maybe my stomach was stronger than I gave it credit for. Either way I survived without publically embarassing myself. I told Loren I was feeling a bit green so he and the girls checked out the map for a nearby place to eat as I sat on a stone wall in the shade for a moment to gather myself. Once I was sure I wasn't going to need a restroom, I picked up my head from where it hung and opened my eyes. In front of me was the "Trabant" spinning and whirlling with a new set of passengers. It didn't look all that monumental. It didn't look life changing. It didn't look like a testing ground. But regardless of how it appeared, it was monumental. It was life changing. It had indeed tested me, and I had passed. No longer was I a member of the young, fun-loving, go-faster, give-me-more, let's-do-it-again generation. I had passed, officially, into the party-pooper, sit-and-watch, yes-I-know-I'm-boring group of people I thought one need be much older to belong to.

After that, I spent my time people watching from the side lines. I admired those my equal or older who dared take on such rides as the Pirate Ship and the Merry-Go-Round. I smiled meekly with understanding at others who sat out, looking in from the outside. I thought fondly of childhood and happy memories spun and whirled about me as I tried to come to grips with the fact that I would never again come out of an exit gate smiling.

A while back a good friend, (through a number of misunderstandings and errors that could have happened to anyone,) had a run-in with the law that landed her in the back of a police car with her young children looking on. The situation was eventually straightened out but I think my children are scarred for life after hearing her kids tell about their mommy being put in the back of a police car ready to be hauled off to jail! Now the standard response to my direction, "Buckle your seat belt," is something like, "Yeah, or the police man will get you, put you in the back of his car and take you to jail!"

Today we were at the gas station filling up and a State Trooper K-9 vehicle pulled in at the pump right next to us. There was a dog in the back and although you couldn't really see him - just the outline of his head and pointy ears due to the dark shades they had on the windows - you sure could hear him! He kept looking at me and barking so much that I wondered if I resembled someone on a wanted poster that lined the bottom of the his cage.

When I got in the car I said to the girls, "There is a dog in the back of that police car." They both turned their heads to look and Lucy asked, "Is the policeman taking him to jail?" I couldn't help but share the adorable comment with the officer and he was kind enough to give the girls one of CJ's official business cards!