My New Favorite Christmas Tradition: Tell Me the Stories of Jesus

Ever since I became a mother and realized that the duty of ushering in the (true) Spirit of Christmas had fallen upon my shoulders I have struggled to do anything that really made an impact. I tried to implement many old and new traditions, many of them fairly elaborate or expensive, all with little or no impact.

Maybe it was my delivery. Maybe it was the young age of my children. But all my efforts were met with great frustration and perceived failure.

Back in November of this year I decided to try something a little different and follow the mantra of "Let there be peace on earth at home and let it begin with me" by acting upon a Facebook challenge of reading The Book of Mormon in forty days. I figured what better way to bring the Spirit into my own heart and my home than by drawing close to my Savior through His words. This would be my gift to the Christ Child.

For almost two weeks I followed the reading schedule strictly and marched my way through over 250 pages of scripture. But did I feel an overwhelming closeness to my Savior? Not really. Instead I felt stressed and guilty as I cruised by passages I wanted to study more closely all in the sake of completing the daily reading assignment on time. Enter more stress and guilt for devoting so much time to rushed reading when my children were watching TV, mindlessly, or inciting my anger and frustration with unattended messes and sibling arguments. Once Thanksgiving week hit, I began to fall behind and just never could seem to get caught up.

I felt terrible on top of all that stress and guilt. I had failed at even this.

I beat myself up about it for a few days, feeling like once again my efforts to make Christmas mean something for my family was a flop. I toyed with the idea of just giving up. (But c'mon. We moms never truly give up, right?)

Over Thanksgiving we had traveled to Idaho to visit my family and while there attended church at my parents' ward. It seems to be common practice in the LDS religion to send home lots of little papers with their primary children. I confess, I recycle most of these with hardly a glance. While meaningful, they're often scribbled, wrinkled, and quickly forgotten.

But for some reason, one paper that came home that post-Thanksgiving Sunday caught my eye. It even made it all the way from that church building in Home Town, Idaho to Current Town, Utah, (a veritable miracle in a car packed to the brim with four young children and loads of other stuff).

This paper somehow escaped the car clean-out after our trip and the recycling bin. It just kept resurfacing in my house and eventually I found myself studying it and realizing that this simple little activity might be worth a try.



Each night, through the month of December, I pulled out the corresponding picture from our Gospel Art Kit and we read the related scriptures. This replaced our nightly scripture study. We fell behind a few times, but were able to quickly catch up by reading a couple of stories at a time. Sometimes if we were crunched on time we would simply read the summary on the back of the picture instead of diving into all of the scripture verses. After each reading we would say our family prayers. Then after putting everyone to bed I would tape the picture on the dining room wall so we could look at it throughout the month.

It all took very little time and even less effort.

But "by small and simple things are great things brought to pass" (Alma 37:6).

Let me be totally honest here. There were several nights where I was practically yelling by the end and our prayers were said with more than one child goofing off or sulkily saying "Amen". But there were also several nights when the Spirit poured into our home. As we learned about Jesus from the foretelling of his birth, to his childhood, to the miracles he performed, to his suffering in Gethsemane and his Crucifixion, the Resurrection, and his visitation to the Nephites, He became very real to all of us. Even I learned a few things I didn't know or remember. We were no longer celebrating the birth of a strange and distant God, but our beloved brother and Savior. The kids would ask questions and we were able to have several conversations, some kind of silly, but some very sincere and spiritual in nature. It gave me the natural opportunity to bear my testimony to my family and share my love of Jesus Christ and the gospel with them.

Every year I feel kind of sad and melancholy when I take the tree and decorations down, but it will be these pictures that will be the most difficult to see go this year. Maybe we will just leave them up...

This is such a small, simple Christmas activity, definitely easier and less time consuming than that monumental 40 day challenge I totally bonked out on. Instead of feeling stressed and guilty, I felt peace and comfort that I was spending time and energy doing what Jesus would have me do. While reading the Book of Mormon in forty days is not a bad thing, it wasn't the best thing I personally could have done at this season of my life. I officially declare this as our new family Christmas tradition and I can't wait to do it again next year. Hopefully, I can stay out of my own way and not complicate it and just let the Spirit guide.

A couple of notes: I'm not exactly sure where this activity originated from; I just saw the paper that came home with my daughter. But from what little research I've done it's possible it came from the December 2008 issue of the LDS monthly publication, The Friend.

Also, while I am of the LDS faith and appreciate that these stories include the Savior's visitation to the Nephites on the American continent, this could very easily be tweaked for someone of a different faith. Most of the scriptures are in the New Testament and Gospel Art Books are very easy to order online (and only $3.50!), no matter what faith you are.

I Miss School

I've been doing a lot of studying this week which has led me to realize a few things:

#1. I miss school and want to go back someday. (Four plus years of college and all I have to show for it is a lot of student loans.)

#2. I would be a terrible student seeing as how Evelyn + sitting still + reading = ZZZZZZZZ

#3. I've gotten really dumb over the last ten years. (And I used to be kind of smart. Dangit.)

#4.  I really need to do this more often.

I also realize there is a time and season for everything. Right now I am in the season of young(ish) motherhood. I am busy raising these four little ones; changing diapers, helping with homework, supervising  vigilantly, struggling to create control out of chaos, shuffling non-stop around a semi-clean house, bleary-eyed and plastered in mystery stains. But one day...one day I will get my chance to get my homework on again. And then I'll complain about how hard life is then and how I long for these "simpler" days now. Ha!

While my studies have been of a more personal and spiritual nature, I did want to share this one gem that I found while "studying" Facebook.

"Be strong enough to be gentle. Too many parents equate being gentle with being weak or passive when nothing could be further from the truth. Gentleness requires great control, active connection, and intense calm. So, when your child needs discipline, remember that an iron grip isn’t the only way to go. You can accomplish great things by being the calm voice of authority and reason in your home." ~Hal Runkel

Good one, huh?

At this rate, I have a feeling that I'll have motherhood figured out the day Cee walks out the door to go to college.

Hey! Maybe we'll go to college together! That is...if I can stay awake.

Mad about Mondays

Crestfallen, Joe walked into our living room. It was Sunday evening. The end of another glorious weekend of General Conference, candy corn hillbilly teeth, marked off To Do lists, homemade stew, stolen naps, and early morning trail running.

"I don't want to go back to work tomorrow", he whined.

Patting him on the shoulder, I agreed. I didn't want to let him go back to work either. What a drag Mondays are...for the working father and the school kids.

But for the Stay at Home Mom...Mondays are glorious!

I remember feeling that pit-in-stomach dread when I was younger and had responsibilities and obligations to teachers, professors, and employers. Vaguely. That Monday morning repulsion faded long ago with the absence of deadlines and clock-ins.

No boss breaths down my neck asking for "the Johnson file".

The only ones breathing down my neck are the little ones begging for a 9 am "Snack, Mama! SNACK!!"

In the truest sense I suppose my children are my boss. And these supervisors are more whiny, critical, and demanding than most. But they're also pretty flexible and laid back. When I say, "Let's skip the house work today and play Barbies instead ", they don't mind. When we have popcorn for dinner instead of the chicken, vegetables, and potatoes that was on the meal plan, they don't complain. When one of them is sick or hurt, they'd much rather I drop everything and cuddle. Productivity be darned.

I don't mean to agitate the working moms out there, but I can't help feeling like I've hit the jackpot here. If I want to wear pajamas until noon, change into my workout clothes to exercise, shower, and then change back into a second set of pajamas...I can. If I want to interrupt my housework to take thirty pictures of a jar casting shadows on the counter top just because I think it's beautiful...I can. If I want chocolate chip cookies for lunch...then by golly I WILL have chocolate chip cookies for lunch! As long as I share of course.

Not that being a stay at home is all cookies and comfort. It can be pretty tough sometimes. The hours are long and never ending. The chores and chaos are monotonous and relentless. Many days it is too easy to feel insignificant or trapped. Sometimes I feel tremendously guilty that I'm not giving a "real" contribution to our household or world. Every now and then, I ache to return to school and the work force for the socialization, for the paycheck, or for the change of pace.

When I was a kid, my mom had a quote hanging on the wall that I read every morning as I slammed down breakfast in my rush to get out the door to school.

“The greatest work we will ever do will be within the walls of our home.”  ~Harold B. Lee

I read it over and over again until it was ingrained on my brain, but it wasn't imprinted on my heart until I was a mom. I believe my mom had it there for her own sake and sanity. Something to remind her to keep her head up in the midst of the melancholy and the maelstrom and the mediocrity.

Stay at home motherhood may not be charming every day, but today I am grateful for it and the happiness it brings me. I know that I am never as happy as when I am in my own home, working to keep it clean and comfortable, striving to be patient and loving with my children, helping them to do homework or get dressed. I feel incredible joy when my family is well-fed, my home is organized, pictures of a happy family hang on the walls, laughter and good music ring through the rooms, and love abounds from the rafters.

And if I get to wear pajamas while doing all that...Even better.

Bring it on Monday!

Happy Smothers' Day!

This morning I was lovingly greeted by an enthusiastic 5 year old daughter.

"Happy Smothers' Day, Mommy!"

She quickly corrected herself, but I kind of liked it better the first way.

We mothers, we like to smother. We will smother and cuddle and hug and kiss and and nag and worry and adore and cheer and support and loveloveLOVE you from the very first moment we hold you in our arms to our very last dying breath. And it's high time we received some appreciation for the smotherers we are.

So to all you smotherers out there...Happy Smothers' Day! May your day be absolutely overflowing with reciprocated smothering!

Is There Life After "Mommy"?

As a devout members of the LDS faith (and yes, that makes me a Christian too) I am repeatedly exposed to...well, let's face it...cheesy music.

Music can be very powerful and moving and spiritually fulfilling. It is by far the most effective way the Spirit speaks to me. But when it comes to the majority of contemporary christian/LDS music...I can't help but cringe. It is so sticky sweet and predictable and just downright weird. (Are we praising God or making out with him?)

I'm sure the people who write and perform these songs have the best intentions. They are trying to express their testimonies and love of God and the Savior through music. My hat is off to them for even trying. I mean, really, how critical can I be? Have I ever written anything that remotely resembles music much less something that others find worthy of being broadcasted and performed publicly.

Still, I'd rather not listen to most of it.

For all my contempt for church music, there is one particular person who in my opinion has found the perfect balance between sweet and spiritual.

Janice Kapp Perry.

The other day my husband and I happened upon a television program about her. I had no idea how many of my favorite church songs could be attributed to her. She has written dozens of primary songs, hymns, and other musical arrangements that have become part of the LDS culture and faith.

And here is the kicker: She didn't even start until she was 40 years old! This is when she received her "two lucky breaks": a broken ankle and a broken television set. Before this she had been busy raising children and playing sports.

Hearing that someone like Janice Kapp Perry didn't even find her groove until she was 40 gives me a lot of hope. Sometimes I feel like I have lost myself in motherhood. I can't help but wonder who Evelyn is anymore? Don't get me wrong. I love being a mother. I really do. There's nothing more important and precious to me than raising these four children right now. But what happens when they grow up and leave, as I hope they will someday. And not because I want to be rid of them, but because I hope I did my job right and they are wonderful, capable people who are busy doing good things. Good things like making chubby little grandbabies for me to smooch.

I will always be a mom, but I won't always be busy wiping bums, cleaning up messes, and reading board books. Motherhood can be so dirty and grimy and tiring and micro-focused sometimes that it blinds me to life before or beyond it. I am more than mom...I think. I used to be at least and I have hope that someday I will be again.

I don't know what things I will accomplish beyond being a mom, but after learning that someone who has successfully spoken to my spirit through music didn't even start until after they had done their time potty training, helping with homework, and breaking up sibling brawls gives me the courage to go ahead and plan on accomplishing something monumental after I build the foundations of these little monuments-in-the-making here.

It's always nice to have a little hope on your side.

A Day in the Life

I had these marvelous intentions to blog every day. And no. As much as I love you, it wasn't for you, dear blog readers. It was for me. Over the past year I kind of lost track of why I started blogging in the first place. That reason was to record our family life while it was still fresh and funny and frenzied. I got swept up in comments and followers and swaps and such. I lost sight of my primary purposes. I began blogging so that years from now my children (and maybe their children too) could sit with me (for I hope I am still around; I would hate to miss a good round of laughing and tears) and we could relive these stories of their sweet and bitter children-hood and my stumbling, bumbling adventures through early motherhood.

I can't help but feel like this precious, precious time is passing quicker than I have the mental ability to retain it. It's so strange how never ending it feels some moments. Then the very next second it strikes me how fleeting this time is as well. It truly pains me that I can't seem to grasp on to these moments, the good and the bad ones. My memory already fails me as I try to think back on my oldest being a baby, on only a year ago when the youngest was a baby. Before I know it they're going to all be potty trained. I'll blink and everyone will be in school. Turn again and we're attending the last graduation ceremony. And weddings and births of grandbabies and holidays and special days and boring days and on and on.

It's all so beautifully tragic and tragically beautiful.

Here I blubber and babble trying to pinpoint with pathetic little words my frustrations with this dilemma of time tick tick ticking on whether I'm ready or not...

It's all so futile, isn't it?

I'm never going to find the perfect, magic words that will freeze my little ones as they are now.

But that doesn't stop me from trying I suppose. So...I'll keep promising to try to maybe blog and journal and scrapbook with the hope that I will be successful in my endeavors and capture little moments that can't be erased by clocks, poor failing memories, and children who refuse to not grow up.

As for today...

Today was like any other day. Nothing unusual. Nothing amazing. Just another day of survival and silliness. There were moments when I looked into my children's faces and wanted to squeeze them. What motivated the intentions behind the squeezing varied wildly. And I did manage to squeeze each of them a few times each. Mostly with love.

A rushed morning complete with a few harsh words.
Huge bear hugs from Dee and dainty cheek presses from Jeigh as I dropped them off in front of the school. A few cuddles on the couch with the two youngest.
A carefully timed treadmill exercise routine (two in school, one down for a nap, one watching PBS. And...RUN!).
A forgotten lunch rushed to the school.
$10 of gas in a minivan tank full of nothing but fumes.
A much needed lunch play date at Chick-Fil-A. Waffle fries and swapping of gluten free recipes. Homework. Snacks. Nap times.

We went grocery shopping. They asked 49 times if they could have this treat or that toy or this sugary cereal. And I said "NO!" 49 and a half times. We ate hot dogs, pizza, and lemonades at Costco for dinner. I patted myself on the back for feeding my entire entourage for a whopping $6.67 and tried to ignore the absence of health in hot dogs, pizza, and lemonades.
Home.
A failed Family Home Evening consisting of nothing more than sitting around eating Muddy Buddies together.
Too much junk food and not enough veggies. Sigh. Try again tomorrow.

And off to bed. Everyone hugged. Everyone kissed. Everyone pottied.
Everyone loved. Very much. By a very tired mother who wants to capture just another boring normal day. Because she sees the beauty in it. Because it was terrible and wonderful all at the same time. Because she knows one day she will miss days like this.

(Not) The End.

Dear Hanging by a Silver Lining Blog

It is 9:26 pm.

I have been trying to spend some time with you all day.

You were even on my list of things to do today.

Right below "write missionary brother" and right above "eat healthy".

I got the brother written and I tried to eat healthy and here I am spending a few moments with you.

See. You are important to me.

Even more important than eating healthy?

Meh.

Let's just say easier to do than eating healthy. (And yes! Chocolate covered strawberries do count as a healthy snack. Hello! Fresh fruit! Smothered in chocolate!)

Anyway.

I just put four little people to bed.

Yep.

At 9:26 pm.

On a school night.

But I made sure those four little people got kisses, hugs, piano practice, homework, family time, breakfast, lunch, and dinner, chocolate covered strawberries, and lots of love before their sweet little heads ever hit the pillow.

Doing all that all day has me plum worn out.

Sorry poor little neglected blog.

You're going to have to wait until tomorrow. I will put you on my to do list again.

Right above "exercise" and right below "make sure to do all you can to be the best mama and wifey you can today".

A girl has to have some priorities, ya' know?

Love,
Me

P.S. This song is my current favorite. It makes me wish I had a really tall building, a really big voice, and some really big chops to sing it at the top of my lungs to the world.

Repost: La Lament Le Laundry

I have been struggling with the same mountainous pile of laundry for the past three weeks.

No lie.

I thought a little repost, this one in particular, was in order as I spend the day taking this bad mamba jamba down.

Happy Thursday everyone!

P.S. You can find a fresh new post of mine over at MMB today!
------------------------------------------------------------------------

The laundry.



It lounges.
It loiters.
It lurks.

In a labyrinth of
lusty,
lugubrious
levels.



The lady of the land,

She is the luckless, laden laundress.

How was she leveled to this
loathsome,
lowbrow
labor?



Loyal to the love of the lord and the lodgers,

She launches herself lithely into the laundering livelihood, lugging the leagues from the lobby and the loft.



The landslide of laundry leans under her laudable lather,

But as the load lingers,
she languishes,
lachrymose for liberty...

...or at least a little lounge.



Landlocked by the lapels.

She longs and grows

lackadaisical,
lackluster,
listless.



But, liable to her loved ones,

she leaps off her laurels,
empties the lint trap,
and locates her liveliness again.



Little by little,
the laundry lightens,
laid in lithe loads,
localized in lockers.



The luminous lass is
laughing,
loquacious,
light-hearted.

What the L?!?!

The Invisible Mother

I really loath forwarded emails. Really. Utterly. Loath.

But.

My mom sent this forwarded email to me today and I couldn't help but share it with all you Invisible Mothers out there. Yes...YOU!

And you!

Oh and you too...Yea, you. The one sporting the messy ponytail and "furry" teeth with macaroni and cheese residue smeared on your sleeve, baby barf on the other, and not a stitch of makeup on. YOU!

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?'

Obviously not; no one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all.

I'm invisible. The Invisible Mom.

Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more! ‘Can you fix this?’, ‘Can you tie this?’, ‘Can you open this?’

Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.'

Some days I'm a crystal ball; 'Where's my other sock?, Where's my phone?, What's for dinner?'

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history, music, and literature - but now, they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, she's gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. She had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself.

I was feeling pretty pathetic, when she turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.' It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: 'With admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'

In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:

1) No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names.
2) These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished.
3) They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.
4) The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.

A story of legend in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof, No one will ever see it. And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.'

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, no Cub Scout meeting, no last minute errand is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.'

I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for 3 hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, he'd say, 'You're gonna love it there...'

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible mothers.

Share this with all the Invisible Moms you know... I just did.
The Will of God will never take you where the Grace of God will not protect you.
To all the wonderful mothers out there!! God bless and keep you.

Did You Know...??? {The Four-Kid-Mom Edition}

Did you know...

...when you tell people that you have four children and their ages are 6, 4, 2, and newborn that people automatically assume you are a "planner"?

...that even though you said you were "done" at four that you may or may not feel a sense of resolution once that fourth baby arrives? And that it will haunt you in the wee hours of the morning?

...that poisoned apples are not only fairy tale fodder? Apparently they are quite effective on unruly two-year olds who refuse to nap as well.


...that a) if you are a blogger, b) if you have a baby, and c) that baby arrives around Valentines Day, blog friends will send you little goodies such as this? (Thank you again Mimi! Cee loves it... Can you tell?)


...an uninterrupted hot shower is like unto a week long vacation in the Bahamas?

...a week long vacation in the Bahamas is easier to come by than an uninterrupted hot shower?

...that if you are a four-kid family living in Utah, you look pretty normal compared to all the other out-of-control-rabbit-breeding crazies out there? (And when I say "crazies" I do so with much admiration and respect IF they're doing it right...)

...it is perfectly acceptable to wear your comfortable maternity pants and under-roos even if you can technically fit in your pre-pregnancy pants? Especially if you are too busy breastfeeding to do the laundry.

...breastfeeding your newborn is a legitimate "out" for laundry, dishes, making dinner, conversations with unpleasant visitors, boring meetings, and putting older kids to bed. ("Didn't you just barely feed the baby?" *shrugs shoulders* "Newborns. Sheesh." )

...hemorrhoids are no laughing matter and not good joke material?... JOE!

...the noise level in your house raises exponentially with the arrival of number four, even though the new addition may not be the source of noise?

...that teeny tiny itty bitty baby feet can make a grown woman cry?

...peanut butter sandwiches for dinner the fourth night in a row sounds like a perfectly lovely idea when contemplating whether or not to load up four kids in the van to go to the store all by yourself? Even if you are out milk...and peanut butter...and bread? In fact, nothing could make you leave the house with four kids by yourself unless a) you are out of diapers and not willing to wrap your kitchen towels around your newborn's bum, b) there's a veritable lifetime supply of chocolate waiting on the other end, or c) the house is on fire?

...no matter how "fluffy" you are, people will tell you how amazing you look "for just having your fourth baby"? And you will restrain yourself from giving them a big fat kiss and asking them to be your new best friend?

...it still boggles the mind to look at a new baby and think: "THAT came from me! Like from inside my body! I made that! Wow. "

...a new mother just can't resist showing off her baby, be it the first or the fourth? And a mother can see the subtle differences between 40 pictures of her baby all in the same position and MUST have a copy of 34 of those 40pictures?

Potty Fingers

I received an email today.

Hello

I am an seo consultant for http://www.bathroomboutique.eu

We would like to exchange links with your web site http://hangingbyasilverlining.blogspot.com/ as our sites are related by the topic bathroom.

"Bathroom"? Really?!

Do I talk about bathroom stuff that much? I mean I guess I did dedicate a whole post to finding humor in poop. And then there was that one time I actually took pictures of experiments performed on my pregnant pee.

But wait! Don't peg me for that kind of blogger! I mean...I can't even bring myself to type the "c" word on my blog. You know the one. It rhymes with trap.

I thought I was a fairly classy blogger, but it would appear that I am in need of more uplifting blog post topics. Ones that perhaps do NOT involve bodily functions.

But I'm a mom (soon-to-be) raising four children ages six and under...What else is there to talk about???