True

I am often asked "How is Young Women going?". I find it difficult to limit my answer to a simple "great" or "good". Perhaps it is because numerous expletives and expressions of unbelief were exclaimed in my overdue-soon-to-be-mother-of-4-in-5-years presence. Or maybe it is simply because of my own initial confusion and state of overwhelmed ignorance. For whatever reason, I feel the need to express my thoughts and experience, if only for the sake of integrity.

My previous experience in the YW program had been very limited. When I say limited I mean, I attended YW 18-24 years ago. I came to be president with no service under a former president, no preconceived ideas-no ideas at all.

The first 2 months, I drew blanks every time I held a meeting and every time I tried to start a conversation with a young woman. In those first 2 months I held back my tears until I reached my car or my knees in prayer. I was exhausted and so inadequate. Many nights I held internal conversations with God about how I just wanted to relax with my newborn, rock her to sleep, watch a television show, or have a clear mind with no burdens. But I had accepted the calling, and accepting meant I had to trust. I had to trust because I felt the spirit testify to me when my Bishop was called(the week before I was called)that it was the Lord's will. And I had to trust that the Bishop was sincere in his calling of me. So I put one foot in front of the other and the Lord has provided.



28 years ago I took upon myself the name of Christ. Almost six years ago, I took on the name of mother. My prayers have consistently been filled with pleas of help me be-a better mother, a better wife, a better sister, a better friend, a better daughter-just help me be. I know answers don't usually work overnight; I rarely have new found patience the next morning, a droopless smile fixed permanently, and an unceasing gentleness constituting my demeanor. What I am really asking for are opportunities to develop and learn what it means to take on the name of Christ.



I can't speak for the YW and my service with them, I can only speak of the byproduct of my service. This is what I know, the Lord's grace is sufficient. As I've asked for my heart to be filled with love for these girls, I have felt His love flow through me, He is the source. And with this love comes help. His love multiplies and divides itself among the needs of my children.



It devours fear, pride, and pain.



It blankets my home with peace and a heightened desire for good.

Little did I know that when I was extended this calling, I was extended an answer to my prayers and a hand to follow Him.

Garden Variety

I once had a favorite sweater.



I purchased it years ago with wages earned in small doses.

Burgundy and trim, it flattered a waistline not yet expanded by budding life.



The wool warmed my free, young arms; arms that were not yet filled by children with delicate wool-objecting jowls.



Tucked in reserve behind easy and accessible tees and tops, the sweater sat.

Reclaiming my waist(ever so slightly), I pulled out the sweater. Could I once again, regain the grace that was featured in this sweater?



I bathed it gently in the hand wash cycle on cold, anticipating an air dry. A dutiful but naive sweater launderer switched loads on me.
I found my sweater small, boiled, felted, never again to be reclaimed.



Perhaps it is best. Regaining 25 was a pipe dream. My hips and breast will be heavy with motherhood for years to come. But what is 25 when 36 looks like this?

A Star-Crossed Apple

Holiday?

As the flames of Valentines cool to a simmering glow, President's day dawns gray and blustery.

I brave the store, 4 children full,







like a mother duck, trailed, circling, and squawking.



Attempting to exercise, my children tease and poke fun at my athleticism, and I am required to exercise more than my muscles.



I piece together scraps hoping they will spontaneously fabricate themselves into a pillow case.



Leaving the children alone in their quarrels, I sew rosettes out of my great-grandmother's handmade lace, and embellish a tee.



Since I am no longer allowed to hang anything on the wall(according to my husband, I do not understand the laws of physics), I collaged photos on the floor and he meticulously hung them. I admire his handy work.



I count the days the remaining collage remains on the floor, unhung.

I consider mutiny.

Two Fold Mission

There are two matters of business that I wish to discuss today.




1. Prompted by Brooke, Norah, Lulu, and I made homemade valentines.





This can clearly be interpreted as A)an attempt to win, at what I don't know, but it's a competition yo(I feel the best time to use "yo" is at 36, when you are quickly slipping into the abyss of old age and uncoolness); or B)as a future reference for proof of love when at 13-15 my daughters exclaim that I don't love them and that I am ruining their life. I'm totally smart like that.





Business matter #2-



On this Friday the 13th, half a year has raced by in the life of sweet Rosemary.



Barely tangible, these 6 months have left me refined. I've yet again, been taught that all things can be done in the strength of the Lord.



Rosemary patiently watches and waits as I sweep dirty floors, or dress little bodies.



She waits, mouth agape, as I feed little mouths, hoping for what is left.



She patiently watches as I help a young woman measure flour and sugar, just waiting for her turn in the spotlight.



And when it is her turn, she throws her petite arm round my neck, grasps my skin fervently-reminding me that we are one.

There have been past days that the 'need' has been burdensome and overwhelming, but currently, to be needed is divine. You are my teacher Rosemary.

On showing up to the eternal round

My parents don't have a perfect marriage. I've watched as they've argued, endured, and tolerated.

I've also watched as they've sustained, appreciated, recognized, and sacrificed.

Most memorably, I've watched them love and humble themselves.

As I fumble through life, waves of gratitude overtake me as I recognize the depth of beauty my family has blessed me with.

My parents married young-naive, but true. Their early journey brought them to Buddhism, vegetarianism, parenthood, homesteading, and eventually to Mormonism.



My parents are faithful. I find myself continually falling back on their pioneer example. Early membership in the church couldn't have been convenient or elementary. Yet they served, in any and every capacity, without complaint, without pride, and all while struggling to raise 8 children.

My agrarian childhood was happy. I had a father who taught me passion and mercy. I had a mother who taught me the importance of hard work and self-reliance. Compassion flourished and formed the fiber of our understanding. From the nurturing of stray cats(I would need ten hands to count the number of stray cats we cared for) and fallen birds, to the open home and open hands which welcome the intellectually challenged, students whose homes are far away, and those in need, we have always been taught to serve the "least of these". And I am happy.



I often look to my siblings for confirmation of my blessed life. "By their fruits ye shall know them" serves my parents well in this sense. My siblings are thoughtful and genuine. They seek opportunities to serve. I am often humbled by their sincere desire to love and to embrace. Recurrently, my favorite moments are those spent in the company of my siblings and their thoughts.



And here I am, setting out with a husband and 4 souls to tether.

As I stumble along the way, become confused, misguided, or overwhelmed, there is substance to draw from. When I am too tired or prideful to pray, when my scriptures can wait, and when my calling seems heavy, I have been taught better.

I have been blessed. My blessings come with a price. I am accountable to those who came before and those who lie ahead.

So here I continue to go.

Homemaking Crack

Something has taken hold of me. I am hooked on some kind of homemaking high(somewhat unnatural).
When I was called to be the YW president, I was asked to teach homemaking skills. Initially, I thought,"What is this, the 19th century?". Not really. Kind of. But then I prayed, and thought about it, and the Bishop was right. My greatest treasure(these days) is found in being a homemaker. There is great joy and satisfaction in serving in this capacity, and of course, the girls have loved it-almost as much as the karaoke.

But in the midst of teaching these skills, I've become an addict. I can't cool down. If I'm not involved in something 'productive' I begin to flounder.

Here, I'll show you.



So, I'm almost done with Norah's quilt. I just have a strip to sew down the back and then it's off to the machine quilter's. Then I start with Lulu's.





While I was at the quilting shop, I noticed giant ric rac. I conspired to produce pillows decorated with the ric rac for the kids play area. But it wasn't enough.

*this is Abram's rebellious do, meaning he rebels and I don't do it.



I saw some pretty little a-line skirts made from vintage polyester. They were $70. I decided to check ebay for vintage polyester. Yup, vintage polyester for $1.50. I now own it, and I will show you the results in a few days.

I started thinking about Easter dresses. I love this one at Jcrew. But 3 of those, at $118? Probably not. So this weekend I found a very similar pattern, decided to mix these two fabrics





and we will see how it goes. I have until April 12th, right? Maybe I can pass this off in my personal progress.





I also(finally)uploaded photos to Shutterfly(first time ever, because I am that awesome), got a number of enlargements, bought a million clearance frames at Target(a bit boring in color, but workable) and unfinished frames at Roberts. For family home evening we are going to have a painting party and by the end hopefully we have colorful frames and not broken fragments of discount store trash. I will let you know how this works out because I know you can't wait.

You are probably thinking that I need to lay off the hooch. You are probably right. But I need to seize the hooch while it flows, because soon enough it may dry up.

You know what I'm sayin?