Category Archives: Divinity

The spiritual side of motherhood.

So here’s the thing about resolutions. Or, how children ruin everything.

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Obviously the Blogosphere is full of posts about New Year’s Resolutions– some serious, some sarcastic.  I like the idea of resolutions, I really do.  As my life gets more and more busy, I’ve found that taking time to inventory my goals helps me stay focused, and it keeps some of my dreams from slipping through the cracks.

When we first got married, I rolled my eyes at Matt and all his Franklin-Covey Core-values life-planning goal-sheets with step-by-step plans from today to exaltation.  I just liked to live life from day to day doing the best I could and figured that as long as I was pointed in the right direction, I’d eventually end up in the right place.  I was fine with that.  And it worked for a quite a while.  In some areas, it still does.  But once my days became divided between three little attention-parasites and a husband who wants me to remember he’s still around too, plus church and civic commitments… well, I got confused.  The whole “resolute” part of resolutions is the most difficult part.  It’s hard to keep track of everything without really thinking through what matters most and making sure it gets done.  It’s easy to get distracted.

I’ve tried list-making and note-taking.  I’ve posted goals on my bathroom mirror and kitchen cupboards.  But the thing that finally clicked for me came after I heard Sister Julie Beck’s talk about “intentional parenting” last Spring.  I learned that I needed to think about what I really want to accomplish with my family and build those related activities into our routines.  On purpose.  So, for me, goals and resolutions have turned into schedules and calendars.  I’ve found that when I actually PLAN my goals, they don’t disappear.

Do I want to make sure we make it to the temple?  Put it on the calendar!

Do I want my children to learn how to serve and how to work?  Put chores and service in the weekly routine.

I’ve spent the last week or two trying to think about what things are going well in our family, what things need to go, and what are things have been neglected.  Less TV?  More one-on-one time with kids?  Regular temple attendance?  More or less extra-curriculars?  When’s the best time to schedule in my scripture study so it has the greatest chance of getting done every day?  You get the idea.

It took days of thought and hours of document design, but this is the final result.  (Don’t you dare laugh at me.)

So, this is what I’ve become.  I would have never imagined.  Then again, I shouldn’t be shocked since I do have a minivan and a mommy blog– a couple other things I probably didn’t originally have on my young, naive list of future plans.  Anyway, I was so proud of my new weekly schedule.  I showed it to the kids with optimistic enthusiasm.  They’re used to my constant charts and signs, so they were on board.

And then like a dark cloud, the holidays were over and today was back to school, back to real life, and test-drive day for our new weekly schedule.  Please tell me that your children go through post-holiday detox too.  They were out of control.  No more presents to open, no more grandparents to entertain them, no more unlimited access to movies and computer games, no more days off of school.  If I could describe the day in one phrase . . . it was a day of time-outs within time-outs (breaking rules upon rules while still being punished for the last broken rules).  I really wanted to throw out the schedule and tell them to go watch TV until bedtime.  Needless to say, my twinkly dreams of an organized and peaceful New Year went up in flames by about 3:00 p.m. and my children’s chances of living through the month were almost completely diminished by 6:00 p.m.

And this is where the whole “resolute” thing comes into play.  Are the goals important to me?  Yes.  Is it worth sticking it out and being consistent?  I think so.  Will my children be incarcerated in the process?  I hope not.  I have to believe that with commitment and consistency, we’ll fall into a routine that reflects what kind of family we want to be.  This is not a new concept around here– there was a summer schedule and a Fall schedule and this one is just adjusted for changing family needs.  (As a side note, I’m not a nazi about the schedule minute-to-minute, but it gives direction and focus to each day.  For example, a day with emphasis on service, one on outings, one on chores, etc.)  They’ve learned to thrive in the routines in the past and they’ll do it again, if I can survive the first two weeks.  Wish me luck.

Here are three talks (in addition to the Sister Beck one I mentioned earlier) that have really helped me in trying to figure out what kinds of things need to be part of our family’s patterns.  The first two are both by Elder Dallin H. Oaks, and the third by Elder Bednar.

“Good, Better, Best”

“Focus and Priorities”

“More Diligent and Concerned at Home”

Happy New Year!

Christmas, Mary, and motherhood

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By Jeffrey R. Holland:

I’ve thought of Mary, too, this most favored mortal woman in the history of the world, who as a mere child received an angel who uttered to her those words that would change the course not only of her own life but also that of all human history: “Hail, thou virgin, who art highly favoured of the Lord. The Lord is with thee; for thou art chosen and blessed among women.” (JST, Luke 1:28.) The nature of her spirit and the depth of her preparation were revealed in a response that shows both innocence and maturity: “Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word.” (Luke 1:38.)

It is here I stumble, here that I grasp for the feelings a mother has when she knows she has conceived a living soul, feels life quicken and grow within her womb, and carries a child to delivery. At such times fathers stand aside and watch, but mothers feel and never forget. Again, I’ve thought of Luke’s careful phrasing about that holy night in Bethlehem:

The days were accomplished that she should be delivered.

And she brought forth her firstborn son, and [she] wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and [she] laid him in a manger.” (Luke 2:6–7; italics added.) Those brief pronouns trumpet in our ears that, second only to the child himself, Mary is the chiefest figure, the regal queen, mother of mothers—holding center stage in this grandest of all dramatic moments. And those same pronouns also trumpet that, save for her beloved husband, she was very much alone.

I have wondered if this young woman, something of a child herself, here bearing her first baby, might have wished her mother, or an aunt, or her sister, or a friend, to be near her through the labor. Surely the birth of such a son as this should command the aid and attention of every midwife in Judea! We all might wish that someone could have held her hand, cooled her brow, and when the ordeal was over, given her rest in crisp, cool linen.

But it was not to be so. With only Joseph’s inexperienced assistance, she herself brought forth her firstborn son, wrapped him in the little clothes she had knowingly brought on her journey, and perhaps laid him on a pillow of hay.

Then on both sides of the veil a heavenly host broke into song. “Glory to God in the highest,” they sang, “and on earth, peace among men of good will.” (Luke 2:14, Phillips Translation.) But except for heavenly witnesses, these three were alone: Joseph, Mary, the baby to be named Jesus.

At this focal point of all human history, a point illuminated by a new star in the heavens revealed for just such a purpose, probably no other mortal watched—none but a poor young carpenter, a beautiful virgin mother, and silent stabled animals who had not the power to utter the sacredness they had seen.

How true it is that many of the greatest moments of motherhood are quiet and sacred.  Since most of ours are not accompanied by stars and angels, they are often unnoticed by the rest of the world, but not by God.  Mary’s most admirable quality to me is her trust in God, and her willingness to do what he asked of her even when it seemed nearly impossible.  Christmas is certainly about our Savior, Jesus Christ, but like most things worth honoring, it began with a righteous mother.

Merry Christmas!  Have a peaceful, happy and blessed celebration.  May you feel the Spirit of Christ and also, like Mary, a desire to be a woman who puts her life in God’s hands.  What better gift can we offer?

Christmas wake-up call

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I cried.  I love Christmas.

You can still jump in to our 12 days of Christmas challenge (better late than never, right?).  And if you’ve been participating, please share some of your experiences there.  Good things happen when we spread some kindness in one-woman-at-a-time bulk.  🙂

And here are a couple Post-its to show off a few blog posts that have inspired me lately.

1.   Mommy J, who usually blogs over at Mommy Snark wrote this fantastic post as a feature over at MMB:  “I am mother.  That is enough.,”  which echoes so nicely what “Diapers and Divinity” really means to me.

2.  Heather of the EO wrote a post called “Ours” this week, and wow.  Just wow.  She captures so beautifully the shock and awe we feel when we become new mothers.

3.   My friend Molly, shared with me this post that her sister-in-law wrote for national adoption month.  I think it does a lovely job of highlighting the triumphs, challenges, and divine role of adoption.  I’ve often thought about how the Lord uses adoption into the Tribes of Israel in order to make his covenants and blessings available to all his children everywhere.  Parent-child adoption is a beautiful symbol of how this works and is recognized in God’s great plan of salvation.

4.   Another friend, Shantel, wrote this post recently, “Come Let Us Adore Him,”  about how she was able to overcome the Christmas blues and grasp the meaning of the season.  And when I say meaning, I mean some really cool insight into the symbols of the nativity and their relationship to doctrines of Christ.  It is awesome stuff.  A little long (like I’m one to talk), but if you stick it out, I promise you’ll feel enlightened.

Do you have any favorite posts you’ve read (or even written) lately?  Share them in the comments.

The parable of the Ranch dressing

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I had a meltdown yesterday.  A put-my-head-down-on-the-desk-and-cry kind of meltdown.  I also cried in the kitchen and again in my bathroom, and up and down some stairs and halls.

I’ll tell you why.  (This may sound a little bit like complaining or self-pity.  That’s because it is, but I’ll get over it by the end of the story.)

I went to bed too late and my children woke up (as usual) too early.   I lay in bed listening to them crack each other up with jokes you have to be in kindergarten to appreciate.  Grant came to my bedside to tattle that Clark was playing the game downstairs that they’d been grounded from yesterday.  I sent him back to deliver a warning, and a few minutes later I could hear them both playing that same game.  I heard (and felt) bumping, laughing, wrestling, fighting.  They finally progressed to breakfast and scavenged around in the kitchen because I was so out of groceries.  The noise, scuffling, and lame jokes continued.  I tried in vain to hush the boys so that they wouldn’t wake up Natalie.  They did.  It was one of those mornings where I dreaded getting out of bed and starting the day.  (This happens occasionally when the day begins out of control before I’m even awake enough to face it.  It usually fades once I get up and start moving. This time it didn’t.)

Dishes in the sink. Cottage cheese on the floor, table, wall, door.  Grant couldn’t find his library book.  Hurry, you’re going to miss the bus and I’m not taking you. It’s so cold outside and I’m in a constant state of chill, even in my house.  No food, no milk, can’t put off grocery shopping any longer.  If I’m going out to the store, I should go to the Post Office too (dread, dread, dreaded task) to mail Christmas cards and a package that I’ve been meaning to send for at least a week.  “Matt, is the printer working yet?  I need to print the address labels for my cards?”  He’s been studying for finals and couldn’t get it to work since our Internet went down last week.  On his way out the door, he handed me a network code on a post-it note and claimed it would be easy for me to punch it in somewhere and make the computer recognize our printer.  I was bathing Natalie and told him to put it on the desk.

As I walked downstairs, I passed the waist-high reminder of laundry that needs to be done.  Sigh.  And, oh great, look what the boys did to the playroom this morning.  Where’s that blasted post-it note?  Not on the desk.  Called Matt.  Finally found it on my bed.  Tried, tried, tried to get printer to work.  No clue.  Frustration.  Called Matt again.  He can’t really help me over the phone.  Frustration again.  I tried a few more things and somehow managed to disconnect the Internet all together.  Huh?  Tried again to fix it.  Nope.  No Internet.  No printer.  No labels.  No Christmas cards.  Too late, will never get mailed on time.  I spent too much money on them.  No internet?  Now I can’t even transfer money to my account to go grocery shopping either.  That’s it.

I hit a wall, dropped my head on the desk and cried.  Pretty  hard.  Clark wanted to ask me some questions and I answered the best I could, but I wanted to get away.

The phone rang, and I composed myself.  It was my neighbor who wanted to borrow some Ranch dressing for her boys’ lunch.  A wave of frustration set over me because I remembered I had NO GROCERIES.  I told her I didn’t know if I had anything, but I’d check.  She assured me it was fine if I didn’t.  I opened the fridge and found some.  I told her I had less than a quarter bottle.  And it wasn’t even regular traditional Ranch, it was the three-cheese kind.  I sort of apologized I didn’t have more or the right kind, and she said it sounded totally fine.  We agreed Clark would drop it off when he got on the bus for kindergarten.  Then Matt called and asked about the printer.  I started to cry again and he (wisely) decided he’d just call back a little later and promised he’d help when he got home.  I managed to keep my tears to a minimum while I fed Clark and Natalie a piece-meal lunch and got him out the door for school.  I put Natalie in her room for quiet time, and the flood gates opened again.

There was no place to hide.  Every room had some glaring pile or reminder of something else I needed to clean or do or wrap or fix or fold or put away.  More crying.  I thought about my grandma who had a nervous breakdown once, but she had nine children and lived in an old drafty home and had no money to buy groceries.  My life is so much easier than hers was.  What is wrong with me?  All my thoughts started with “I can’t . . . I can’t . . . I can’t . . .  I  just can’t.”

I was melting down.  I stood at my window and stared out across the street.  I saw into my neighbor’s house where she was feeding her children lunch at the table.  With my ranch dressing.  This is what my brain said (and I know it’s dumb, but this is really what I thought):  You know, Stephanie, maybe you’re like that ranch dressing.  It didn’t seem like enough, and it wasn’t the “traditonal” kind, and you assumed it wasn’t what was wanted or needed.  But it was.  It accomplished exactly what it was needed for, and everything’s fine.  It was enough.

I took a deep breath and thought, “What does Satan want me to do right now?”  (It seemed a little more concrete at the moment than “What would Jesus do?”)  He probably wants me to crawl into bed and never get out. I did get in bed, but I said a prayer.  I told Heavenly Father I can’t do this on my own– even stupid laundry and wiping cottage cheese off the door.  I needed help outside of myself to get this stuff done.  I sat up and the first thought that came to my mind was, “Start with the red coat.”  I looked at my coat on the floor by my closet for a minute and felt grateful that God gave me a place to start because I just felt too overwhelmed by the amount of stuff I needed to do.

And little by little, I made progress.  When the kids got home from school, I had some warm banana chocolate chip muffins waiting for them, and a long list of chores and three dice.  They rolled dice and did the chores with the matching numbers.  We all worked together for a couple of hours, and we got a lot done.  I felt lighter and lighter, and by the end of the day, I was myself again.  I felt silly about my meltdown.  It’s only happened two or three times since I got married a full decade ago, but it happened.  And it might again, but God helps me crawl out when I finally break down enough to admit how much I need Him.

And I don’t think I’ll ever see a bottle of Ranch dressing again without remembering that no matter how little I have to offer or how different I feel from what I think I should be, I am enough (with God’s help) to accomplish anything that really needs to be done.

A Christmas challenge: Are you in?

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Last night, I read my kids the last chapter of The Best Christmas Pageant Ever.  Grant and I both cried.  And after I tucked them into bed and was doing the dishes, I kept thinking about how I haven’t done much to act out the true meaning of Christmas yet this year.  And my wheels started turning, and I made a plan.  And I love it, so I wanted to invite you to join in.  It’s nothing super original– maybe a twist on two or three different ideas I’ve heard about before all lumped together– but I’m confident it will help me get my Christmas mojo back (can I be honest?  I’ve never really understood that word.), and more importantly, share with others the love of God and the spirit of the season.

So here’s the basic idea:  Random acts of kindness every day for the Twelve Days of Christmas. It can be anything. (Hence, “random.”)

Here are a few ideas I threw around in my head:  mailing a Christmas package to someone, paying for the next person’s order in the drive-thru window or swiping my card to pay for a particular someone’s purchase behind me in the checkout line at the grocery store, write a letter or make a phone call to someone who might need it, show up at another tired mom’s house and help her fold laundry or wrap presents, drop off goodies at the house of a grumpy or lonely neighbor, . . .  You get the idea.  No need to spend– just look for an opportunity for kindness and jump on it, whether for a loved one or a stranger.

So I’m going to start on December 13th (this Sunday) and spread some Christmas kindness every day through Christmas Eve.  And I’ll involve my children as much as possible– coming up with ideas, or making something together, or delivering or whatever– so that we can feel the spirit of it as a family.  Anybody want to join me in the challenge?

Here’s a button if you want one.  You can blog about it and invite others, or put it on your sidebar as a reminder, or do whatever works for you.

This post right here can be the gathering place for sharing the joy.  Come back and report each day what you did. (I’ll keep a link on my sidebar here for easy access.) And unless you’re in it for the glory, comment your “reports” anonymously or with initials or a pseudonym or something.  I just think it would be fun to hear about each other’s experiences and rejoice (anonymously) in the whole business of joyful service together. Plus, we can read and then steal ideas.

“In short, the Christmas spirit is the Christ spirit, that makes our hearts glow in brotherly love and friendship and prompts us to kind deeds of service. ‘It is the spirit of the gospel of Jesus Christ, obedience to which will bring ‘peace on earth,’ because it means—good will toward all men.’  Giving, not getting, brings to full bloom the Christmas spirit. Then each Christmas will be the best Christmas ever.” — Thomas S. Monson

I feel more Christmasy already.

p.s.  The reporting back is not necessary, but just helps with three things:  1) accountability/slacker prevention, 2) letting you “tell” someone about something you did that you’re so excited about, but you can still remain anonymous, and 3) sharing service ideas.  There’s no rule about reporting daily, just update us as often as you can or want to.