Joy

This time of year, 6 years ago, life seemed to end for me. Zack and I lost our baby boy.

This time of year, 3 years ago, life ended again. I lost my brother.

For a long time I forgot what it felt like to truly feel joy. I was happy. I looked forward to the day when pain and hurt were gone and that brought some happiness. But there always seemed to be a dark cloud hovering around. Things were good, but they were also tinted with sadness all the time. It seemed we were doomed to just be cheerful through tribulation because the tribulation seemed to never end.

A few months ago Zack and I were talking about all the changes going on in our family. After waiting and praying for 7 years we had finally been blessed with a son and were "expecting" some time this year with another one. And if that weren't good enough, our kids would actually have 3 cousins their age because my three brothers were all expecting in the spring. To top it off, my cousin, plus two of our good friends were also expecting this summer. Life was good.

As we talked about all of this, I suddenly realized I was feeling good. Really good. A good that I hadn't felt in a long time. Excited, happy, put a huge grin on your face good. I hadn't realized how absent that feeling was until just then. I think for a while there I was afraid to feel that kind of joy because it might be taken away at any moment. It had happened too many times before.

Joy like that feels really good.

Things still don't feel complete. There's always the feeling that someone is missing and that won't change until we're all together again.

But until then, right now, it's so good to feel joy again.

I'll leave you with this picture because it makes me happy. And when I want to start crying today because I miss Jeff, I'll remember days like this one and I'll remind myself that while it's okay to be sad, it's okay to be happy, too, because I have an awesome family. Aaaand then I'll start crying because I'm so happy I have such an awesome family. Oh well. I guess I just can't avoid the tears today.

Sunday Has Come

I can't think of a better way to express how I feel this Easter season than with this talk by Elder Wirthlin.



Sunday has come. Our Savior died for us and was resurrected the third day. I cannot imagine the joy the apostles and disciples- all those who loved Jesus- felt when they realized that He was not dead, but He had risen. I can imagine a little how Mary Magdalene felt when He was crucified. And when she came that Sunday and discovered that His body was gone. How she wept tears of sorrow for Him. How much she missed Him. And I weep with her. But I know what's coming next. And I feel just a touch of the joy she must have felt when she realized the "gardener" she thought she had been speaking with was her Savior. When I read that account I cry tears of joy with her. He is alive! He is not dead!
Her Sunday had come.

Those of us who have lost loved ones, be they brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, husbands, wives, cousins, grandmothers and grandfathers, or friends, our Sunday will come. Because of the love of our Savior, and His atonement that broke the bonds of death, our Sunday will come.
Just knowing that, just having that promise, I can already taste how sweet that Sunday will be.
And I rejoice in the infinite love that my Heavenly Father and my Savior, Jesus Christ, has for me.

He is not dead, but He is risen.

Caleb's First Haircut

For the first couple of months after we brought Caleb home he was sporting what we fondly liked to call his "soul patch"- that little tuft of hair growing on the top of his head. A lot of babies start to grow hair on the top of their head first. That's normal. Caleb's hair was a bit more conspicuous than others because his grew straight up.

So, after much deliberation and because, well, it was just getting out of control, we decided to cut the poof off.

Here's the poof in all it's glory.

Making the first cut.

Caleb was very patient while I tried to make it somewhat even up on top.

Before...

After!

My, but my baby is looking dapper!

Picking Up Caleb

Here's a little video I've been working on since before we ever met Caleb. Okay, I haven't really been working on it since then, but I've been thinking about it.
The longer it took the finish, the more pictures I wanted to add to it. The kid is just so darn cute.

This is a video journal of our trip to Florida: Getting ready, flying there, picking him up, all the stuff we did while we waited for the 'okay' to come home, and then a little slice of life since we brought him home.

Enjoy!

Being a Mother

I have a great mom.

Ever since I was young I wanted to be just like her. I wanted to be a fun, loving, patient, always-there-when-you-need-her kind of mom.

(A moment in motherhood)

Fast forward 20 some-odd years and now it's my turn to be that kind of mom. Only now that it's here, I don't know if I'm any good at it. And I find myself asking, how did she do it? How does anyone do it?

I'm really not that great at mothering right now. I don't feel like I have that motherly instinct. You know what I mean, that seemingly innate knowledge that pours out of mothers to care for and nurture their child. I don't know which stores have the best sizes of clothes for certain ages. I don't know which toys will stimulate my baby's mind the best. I don't know where the best playgrounds are or which places offer free admission on certain days. I don't know what to do for colds, teething, tummy aches, rashes, colic, spit-up, or food allergies. I have a brief idea of what I'm supposed to do to help him learn to roll-over and sit up. I'm vaguely familiar with the term "tummy time". Am I damaging my child because I don't know what that is? I don't know always know what my baby needs or why or when or where...and sometimes I don't care. As long as he sticks to my schedule, I'm okay. I panic when I think of transitions to more solid food, less naps and sleeping without being swaddled. I'm kind of winging it here.

When we first picked up Caleb no one was there to help us but us. It was just me, Zack, a baby and a hotel room. Wal-Mart and Google were our friends. ("He has a cold! What do we do?! Google it! Now go to Wal-Mart and buy everything we've read about!")

My mom wasn't there the first week to help me transition into motherhood. In fact, even after we got home she wasn't there very much. She couldn't be. She was mothering her own mother at the time.

But I think watching her take care of her mother is teaching me more about being a mother than all the books and classes and google advice in the world. I've learned how to care for my baby by watching her take care of her mother. When I would see her doing something for my grandma, like adjusting a pillow, adding an extra blanket or adjusting the recline position on the bed, I would ask how she knew to do that stuff. Her reply was always, "I just think about what I would want if it were me and then I do that." Of course. So simple.

My mom wasn't born knowing how to take care of my grandma so well. She learned day by day. She talked to health care professionals, she learned about nutrition, she asked questions, she read, and she tried things. In the end, she gave my grandma the very best care anyone could ask for.

So, Mom, thank you for your example. I may not know how to be a mom, but I'm learning by watching you. I'll learn day by day. I'll ask questions, I'll read, I'll talk to my pediatrician, I'll learn how to give him the best nutrition and I won't be afraid to try things.

Thank you for teaching me how to care, how to love, and how to be a mom. As a child I wasn't mature enough to notice how you mothered me. I'm so glad that I was able to witness you being a mom from an adult perspective. I hope I can be half as good a mom as you are. And maybe someday my kids will love me just as much as your kids love you.

6 Months Old...At the Cabin!

Caleb is 6 months old today! I know people say that you should cherish each moment you have with your kids because they grow up so fast, but I just can't help being excited every month Caleb gets older. Maybe it's because the older he gets the more time he is with me and Zack. I'm waiting for the day that we've had him longer than anyone else. That day hasn't come yet, but it's coming soon.

We went to the Cabin this weekend ...to celebrate his 6 month birthday. Yeaaaah, that's why we went to the Cabin....

Anyway, it was Caleb's first time so we were prepared for him to scream all night long because of the altitude change (like other babies whose names will not be mentioned). Turns out he was just fine. He had one weird crying session in the middle of the day but I attribute that to throwing off his schedule and not feeding him when he thought he should have been fed.

We had a ton of fun and did lots of things. Most of them involved bundling up the little guy.

He loved his hat. (Or at least, with the magic of cameras, we can make it look like he loved it.)

He wasn't so sure about the snowsuit.

We hung out with Grandma and Grandpa and Caleb went cross-country skiing for the first time. On his first try! He just let his dad do all the work, that was his secret.

From behind he looked like a Candyland piece.
We watched "What About Bob".
We played games.

We went sledding.

Can you tell who's having the most fun? This was his face this entire time we were sledding. It's like he was just putting up with his crazy, snow-loving parents. At least he didn't cry.

Aaaaaand we cut Caleb's hair.

It was time.

He looks older now. And he feels more like he's mine.

And he's adorable. But we already knew that, right?

Oh, did you want to see pictures of his new haircut?
Maybe later.

Grandma's Legacy

When you die you leave everything behind.

My Grandma Perry died last night. She left behind her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Her clothes, her furniture, all her worldly possessions. She was a great artist and poet so she also left behind all her beautiful artwork and her poems.

I have a few things of hers in my home. Some of her dishes and platters, a few pieces of artwork. I treasure these things because they remind me of her, not because they are of any real worth to the world. This is a picture she drew with colored pencils and it hangs in my living room.

But of all the things she left behind, what I treasure most from her are the things she also took with her - her example and her testimony.

She was a hard worker. She woke up early and worked with her hands. She had a beautiful yard. Though I hate yardwork and have no green thumb whatsoever, I have a renewed desire to make my yard look pretty, just so I can feel closer to her. I'm hoping that she'll be watching over my shoulder and helping me along.

She was a great artist. I have some artistic talent, but not enough to talk about. Though I don't aspire to be a painter like she was, her painting inspires me to fill the walls of my home with beautiful artwork.

She had a strong testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ. After her divorce she went on a mission. I think that's awesome. She worked in the Salt Lake Temple for many years. She shared her testimony in her art and in her poems. I love that I can feel her testimony just by reading her poems. This instills a desire in me to make sure that my testimony is heard, whether I put it in a poem, write it in a journal, or share it verbally.

Grandma, thank you for your example and your legacy of hard work, beauty, strength and faith. I am proud to be your granddaughter. I love you.

The Bread And Wine
My Savior’s words are sweet to me;
From time’s meridian on they shine!
He speaks the words that set me free.

He calms my heart, that heaving sea,
I pour the water, it is wine.
My Savior’s words are sweet to me.

Like Lazarus of Bethany,
I hear Him and my shrouds untwine;
He speaks the words that set me free.

This wisdom comes with bended knee;
Obedient, thy will be mine.
My Savior’s words are sweet to me.

The blood that stains dark Calvary,
Still incorruptible divine.
He speaks the words that set me free.

"The scriptures testify of me,"
He said. I read them line on line.
My Savior’s words are sweet to me;
He speaks the words that set me free.

-By Lucille Rampton Perry
January 19, 1920 - February 2, 2010