“The only tyrant I accept in this world is the 'still small voice' within me." -- Gandhi

I walked alone to church this week, trusty yellow rain coat and my bag of entertaining-to-four-year-olds books bouncing up the hill on my hip. It was the kind of sky and day that makes you feel like maybe you're not in Utah, too wet and tentative for our mountain desert. But lovely air to be breathing and walking in.

I didn't really want to go to church actually. I had had a combined total of about 90 minutes sleep that night, with all the wiping noses, tiny ferocious coughing fits, and soothing sweaty curls.  There was no way she was going, and Eric isn't allowed to teach our primary class solo. Eric and Anna's church plans then were to go for a walk, watch some mormon messages, and pray and sing together in our little red-brick house.  

As I sat there alone before the meeting started, I felt a goodness wrap around me. These people are in the right place, trying to do good to each other and with their lives. And so am I.

The topic of first hour was the Holy Ghost, which though an oft talked about and in many ways the most personally known (experienced) to me member of the Godhead, remains entirely confusing when I think beyond how it works in my life and on into what he/she is, what his/her role is in the eternities, relationship to the Father and Christ, substance etc. (This really pushed my thinking about this earlier this year.)

One of the speakers in talking about who the Holy Ghost is, read the scripture about It not being like unto a man, otherwise it could not dwell with us. Simple enough, but for some reason that familiar scripture today started me thinking about how the Holy Ghost's lack, enables It to do different things, things even (apparently) Christ and the Father cannot do. And I began to think about my personal lack, and the possibility of dwelling not on what I don't have but on what that not-having enables me to do. Yes, I would love for Anna to have a sibling. But not having one yet does indeed enable us to remain involved in so many of the things we love to do.  Not having _____enables me to ______.

Another thought had while listening (that had nothing to do with the talk really, but more on best approaches to making my life and myself the best it can be) was again a shift in focus. From the things I would like to see/do/have/add to my life and instead seeing the process more like sculpting. That perhaps sometimes it is more in the taking away, of things/habits/thought patterns/possessions  that I can create the best version of myself.

speaking of getting rid of things, here's a couple potty portraits:)

the weekend

After more internal back and forth about my like/dislike of blogs, I think for the time being I'm going to use mine here as a mix between a simple recording of the events that fill my days (as I love to read in pioneer women's journals) and a few thoughts about them. No attempt to have beautiful heavily edited pictures of my kids or myself in bright clothing taken by expensive cameras, everyone looking coordinated and well rested. Just things that happened. So I can remember. If anyone else would like to read, they are certainly welcome to, but I'm writing this more as a record of things as they actually are, for me.

Friday morning, we drove up Millcreek Canyon with my dear friend Mo (and Anna's equally dear friend, her son Jesse) to the Porter Fork trail. The snow was soft, but slightly packed, ideal walking and sledding conditions for two year olds. Everything so clean. We picked up cool sticks, took turns pulling the sled, and discussed the merit and complexities of social media and all social interactions these days.  Had a snow picnic of seaweed and fruit snacks. Happiness felt. Then home for delicious homemade squash soup and rolls.

At the mouth of the canyon I got a text from my dad "Are you still good to meet at 1:00?" Had no idea what he was referring to, but called to find out he'd bought tickets in conjunction with the temple studies group we're a part of to attend a lecture at the Leonardo on the Dead Sea Scrolls. So downtown I went. And ended up with some really fascinating new (really old, actually) things to think about. Her speciality was the origins of Judaism and Christianity, and how the common background of the Israelite religion serves to make them more of a sibling relationship than the traditional parental one often held by Christianity. I've also been taking a free online course on the letters of Paul from an awesome professor at the Harvard Divinity school. It was a happy place in my brain that afternoon, all these newly learned facts, and recently acquainted ancient people getting along so nicely.

From there it was over to Abel's house for tutoring and making my way through a huge plate of Eritrean crepes and spicy sauce while we navigated story problems and divided decimals. And a miniature old man sat on the floor with their mom, drinking hot coffee form a tiny cup, smiling.

Back home, took Anna to my parents and Eric and I were off to a discussion group where Maxine Hanks had been invited to share her story of the journey of her life in relation to religion. The living room, walls covered in Mark England's paintings, was filled with chairs holding Mormons on all levels of belief,  age, and activity. She herself was born Mormon, served a mission, became a radical feminist at BYU, then atheist, agnostic, pagan, compiled/edited a book on Women and Authority, got excommunicated, did research on the feminine divine, Mary Magdaline, became a chaplain, then was recently re-baptized into a Sugarhouse ward. It was quite honestly a life-changing night, in a very uplifting way, so much felt and explained and introduced. She has reached a place of such peace and honesty and seemed quite simply, wise.  Discussion afterward with Eric and Colin on into the wee hours of the morning. I'll write more about it later.

Saturday morning, Eric left to a conference, and I went with Mo to an Ordain Women get-together/brunch. Then home for naps, back to Abel's house to pick him and his siblings up to go to the Leonardo, yet again. (The IRC had free tickets) They were not incredibly interested in the scrolls, but we had ourselves a great time making collages, clay hearts, stacking chopped up aspen trees, and sketching still lifes (lives?) in the art lab.

(We're holding up our little works of art, if you can't tell. Also, it's fun to pretend I have 4 kids.)

After taking them back to their appartment, we were on our way to meet up with Eric, and Anna peed her pants. So home we went for a quick wardrobe change and carseat clean-out.  Then to Lamb's Cafe to eat with Baba and the Chinese colleagues that had been working on developing a functional Chinese curriculum for secondary students all weekend. Salt Lake is so beautiful in the rain. And with the twinkling Christmas lights all still up (not sure why?), even more so.

Now it's Sunday morning, which we've spent giving bubble baths and getting our lesson ready for the four year olds we have the great pleasure of teaching each week.

daughter mio

Last night,  3:18 a.m. I heard a "Maaaaammaaa!" sneak under the door, down the hall, and into my ears. Since becoming one of those--a mama-- my ability to awake at the slightest anything has developed into somewhat of a super power.  In her room, I found her sitting up at the top of her new (ish) big girl bed, blinking. "I'm awake!" Indeed.

She wanted to get out and play, but upon consideration decided it an equally appealing idea to crawl back under the covers and snuggle. And after making sure I had a stuffed animal to hug, and enough room on the pillow, she commenced stroking my face gently. "Mama, I like you."

There we lay, content and quiet in the dark, air going in and out of tiny nostrils and me thinking how full and happy my whole everything feels at moments like this, and whenever I stop to realize I really am her mom and this really is my life. Thinking she has drifted off, I sat up to leave. "Mama?"  Yes? "Mama thanks for snuggling me. I love you"

libraries, climbing trips, and chinese new year