A little nostalgia goes a long way

Ten of us piled into a battered three-tone Beauville full-sized van as we embarked on a trek west, or east, or south (for that matter). The trip would be smelly, there would be wet pants, hair pulling, threats, yelling and an astronomical amount of dirty looks, but time was spent together and these times are remembered with fondness and laughter.

Whether it was Mt. Rushmore, Lake Superior, or Zions, I am grateful for the family road trip.



Have you been watching The National Parks: America's Best Idea on PBS? Incredible.



Suburbia can get you down, I often feel a real disconnect when surrounded by artifice. We've been trying to regroup our natural bearings once a week as we go on hikes and wander through trails.







My best memories with my family have been in natural settings, where stillness and gratitude were easily felt, and where God's beauty whispered it's truths to me and I felt whole.

So here is my plan: buy a map, stake out national parks we would like to visit, learn about the history and treasures of that park, then drive to the park fighting, wetting, and screaming all the way. Hopefully the awe and wonder of our visits out weigh the threats and the yelling that will surely ensue. And hopefully the nostalgia for alfresco family time will lend it's legacy to my children.

Anticeptic

Tuesday was a heavy day, a morning meeting regarding Norah left me feeling a bit broken and fearful.



Life is so often rerouted from the anticipated course, and we are left in a heap of humility with only the essentials intact. Isn't it just like God to reiterate once again that my own understanding is very, very limited? And that I desperately need Him?

I'm not sure what all the answers are for Norah, but I am sure that there is room for more love, sweeter words, a gentler touch, and more direction from her Father in heaven. He loves her and I know that he wants to help us succeed as her parents, whatever that may mean.

Feeling lonely and achy Tuesday night, I reluctantly joined the young women for our activity. I sat cross-legged in a darkened room and listened to President Monson's words. "Never let a problem to be solved become more important than a person to be loved" soothed my aches and satiated my need. The problems this situation presents matter little next to the need to love.

And again, His perfect love casteth out all fear, and maybe this, in part, will help Norah.

A little bit of backlog

I've taken photos, when it occurs to me. I've mind blogged here and there-scraping it all for a library book or a shortbread cookie recipe.



I keep thinking I'll just post little bits of our days so that there is something to look back on, but than I think about the meat of our lives. Should I share? Is it an open door for those who feel the need to condescend? I, for one, have found support in the words of those who have similar paths.



Don't get me wrong, I'm content and enjoying my life, but there are things...




Do I write about Norah and her struggles?



Do I write about Lulu and her afternoon "school" at Autism Journeys?



Do I write about how there a few fleeting moments in the day when I want to cuddle Abram close and smother him with love but mostly I want to leave him screaming and yelling in the grocery store/library/Thanksgiving Point garden/park, and pretend I don't know him or his sorry mother?




Do I write about how being the YW president is often rewarding, always busy, and sometimes incredibly difficult? Do I write about how there are times it makes me feel lonely, alone, and sad? I know, "all these things shall give me experience, and shall be for my good". But there are days.




I'm content to let the world pass us by-to make a peach this or a peach that.



Finding the balance between simplicity/establishing a house of the Lord and charity/knowledge is a serious and ever evolving endeavor.



I'll continue to think about it while making another tart.





And while my baby smears her face with sugar.