Sunshine...

From earlier posts, you have probably gathered that I am a lover of sunshine. Today the warm sunshine started to melt the snow and icicles, as I bathed in a pool of sunlight through our family room window. I felt as though the sun had broken through the clouds just for me, a little tender mercy in the middle of my crazy day of grocery shopping, cleaning, playing, potty-training, diaper changing, and so much more. Mmm, sunshine is beautiful.

Children...

My children are my beautiful thing today...and everyday...

I teach dance to children part-time, and as much as I love the children I teach, being with them always makes me miss my own children. Before I had children, my students were my children(so to speak). I thought about them constantly. They were the best and my most favorite children on the planet. Now that I am a mother of my own children, they occupy my thoughts constantly. They are the best and my most favorite children on the planet. Now, the children I teach outside the home are still special to me, but the more time I spend with them, the more I love my own children. Why is that? It is not because my students are not as wonderful as they used to be. They are all that wonderful and more. I think it is simply because my children are mine. Their wonderfulness surpasses any other wonderfulness because they are MY babies and I am their mommy. There is a bond unlike any other between a mommy and her babies. Motherhood is the most beautiful thing I have ever experienced. It is hard, but worth it. It is frustrating, but enlightening. Every day holds new and uncharted territory and opportunities for growth. Every day brings it's own challenges, but the joys far out-weigh the challenges. I love my children. They are the most beautiful, joyful gifts I have ever received. I am very grateful for the opportunity of being a mother.

Humility...

So, remember the time I thought I wrote a Haiku about icicles, but used the opposite numbers of syllables? I was so excited about my icicle poem that I shared it with my 3rd-5th grade dance class, before inviting them to write their own haiku poetry about winter. (We used the haikus as inspiration for creating our own dances at the end of class today.) Very sweetly, one of my little 4th graders pointed out that the haiku syllable ratio is 5-7-5, not 7-5-7. Oops! I had so loved my little 7-5-7 haiku. So, I had my dancers help me fix it. It now reads:

Icicles

Glistening, Dripping

Transparent, sharp, wet, hanging

Waiting for the crack!

I still like my original better, but I was grateful for the learning moment. I felt a little lame at first, but my students are very respectful, kind, and fun. I appreciated their help. :) It feels good to be humbled, on a small scale, once in a while. I wish I had more genuine humility and teachable-ness in me on a regular basis. So often, it is hard to accept criticism, even positive criticism. However, my students take it from me all the time. I think it is a sign of a healthy relationship between us, that they could be honest with me about my mistake, and we could laugh about it and fix it together. It was quite a beautiful moment, thinking back on it. I want to be more like that in my marriage, parenting, and other close relationships. For some reason that is harder, but life is more beautiful when we allow ourselves to grow with the help of those around us. There is a reason we were placed on the earth as part of families, communities, and other groupings. We need each other. We can learn so much from each other. My very simple, humble learning moment, reminded me that everyone is a teacher. Isn't that beautiful? We can learn something from every person we meet.

Icicles...

Icicles

 

Hanging, glistening, dripping

 

Transparent, sharp, wet

 

Silently waiting to crack

 

 

I think icicles are stunningly beautiful. My personal photo of them, however, is not. So, I found some others:

Yoho National Park in Canada

From Wikipedia

 

 

Alaska-in-pictures.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Service

My husband has had the flu this weekend. It always stinks to get the flu, but sometimes I think it stinks more for him than the rest of the world. He has Addison's Disease, and his body reacts terribly to fevers, and on top of the fever, achiness and congestion that come with influenza, he gets dizzy, cloudy-minded, nauseous, hot and cold flashes, and he doesn't sleep. That said, neither do I. He has been driven into comas twice in the past, that started with flu or some kind of fever. Knowing this, there is always an extra layer of worry when he gets really sick. I try to stay positive and he usually copes really well, but there is always that underlying question of "what if it happens this time..." This is not my beautiful thing of the day, and I'm not saying it to show weakness in my husband. He is very strong and amazing, he handles adversity like a champ, and he never complains. I'm just giving you an idea of where we were coming from when our "beautiful thing" showed up. We were all tired, our kids had not napped and were cranky and busy and out of control, Brian was still feeling yucky (though better to the day previous), and I was trying really hard to be strong, but feeling really weak and whiny inside.

Anyway, our neighbors across the street  knew that Brian was ill. The parents stopped by just to visit and see how he was doing, which was very thoughtful and much appreciated. However, the most beautiful thing today was the sound of snow shovels on our driveway. It had been snowing heavily for a few hours and we had at least 4 inches of new snow on the ground when our neighbors stopped by. A few minutes later, I just happened to walk past our front door and hear a scraping sound. Looking out our front window I saw 2 young men working with their dad to clear our driveway, front stairs and walk. It was the sweetest, most thoughtful act of service. I could have gone out to shovel, but it would have left Brian inside with two fussy kiddos. I'm sure they knew how much we would appreciate not having to do that. Service is beautiful. I feel grateful and loved. I believe this family was inspired to lift us up at a time that had been particularly difficult, without really knowing how difficult. I'm grateful they listened to the prompting to help us. I hope to pay it forward soon.

Pink Glow

I spent too much of today wishing I were somewhere else. The entire Wasatch front is covered in a nasty inversion, ad heaped upon that is a layer of thick fog.  The world was grey and white and cloudy, and I missed the sunshine. Around the time of sunset, however, I noticed that the greyish white fog had been tinged a very light pink, reminding me that the sun really was behind the clouds. Had I been able to see it, I'm sure it would have been a glorious sunset, but today was a "faith" day. I couldn't see it, but there was a hint that it was there, and I trust that the days of fog will end (hopefully soon) and the sun will shine brightly again.

There are many parallels I can draw from this experience, but the one that hits me most is that though our spiritual vision may sometimes be clouded and the future may seem unsure, "the Son," our Savior, is always shining behind (and even through) the fog, providing just enough light to see us through and reminding us that soon enough the path will be clear and we will understand the meaning of all things. Until then, we hold on in faith.

I'm grateful for the beauty of the pink glow today. I'm grateful for my faith in a loving Savior who is always there to guide and direct my paths. "Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him and he shall direct thy paths.

Ice Storm...

I almost didn't post today. Our world is covered in a record-breaking layer of ice. (pictures to come)Utah is not known for ice storms, this is the first I've ever witnessed, and while it is fascinating to see a shield of ice atop snow drifts, driveways, and asphalt streets, I think I would be okay if this was a once-in-a-lifetime event. ;) It is quite amazing to have witnessed it once however, and I must say that there was something extremely fun and gratifying about crunching a half-inch layer of ice before stepping into a 2 foot pile of fluffy snow. I also very much enjoyed pretending I was figure-skater a few times today in the driveway. Yes, I dare say that everyone should experience an ice storm once in their life, just to feel the crunch of ice immediately softened by a pillow of snow under their snow boots and to pretend they are Michelle Kwan for a minute in their own front yard. I also dare say that on that day, no one should be allowed to drive. Everyone should stay home, play with their families and drink hot chocolate. That is the way to truly find beauty in an ice storm.