My First Thanksgiving

I wasn't going to write anything on Thanksgiving this year.  I didn't last year, nor the year before that.  But as I sat back, the urge kept hitting me to write.  I have many thanks to give.  The last two Thanksgivings I didn't feel like I had anything to be thankful for.  So much was on my head, so much was going wrong for so long my mind was weary as well as my heart.  I remember last year reading everyone's daily facebook posts for the month of November about what they were thankful for and I would almost cringe every time out of jealousy because I truly felt I had nothing.

This year, out of habit from the previous two years I think, I started to catch myself almost doing the same thing.  Then I sat back and thought about it.  My first thought was how could I have been so selfish the last couple of years.  Even though there was much tribulation all around me, encompassing me, I still had my health, I still had my little family, I still had my extended family, my friends, a roof over my head, my wonderful ward family, and so on.  The list could truly go on forever.  This year, it's so much more.  I was so focused on my trials and everything hard that I was having to endure and push through, I forgot to see any joy in my life.  I still struggle with that daily.  Having been hit with trial after trial since end of 2004 has really put me in a nasty habitual state of woes.

Maybe this is what my trials are about.  Maybe it is to teach me how to find the light in the dark.  All trials have a purpose, no matter how hard they hit you.  There is always a plan Heavenly Father has that He presents through the hard times that are bestowed upon us.  We just need to be willing to look for it.  Keep our minds open through whatever it may be.

I'm sure this entry is more for me, more for my soul; to serve as a reminder as I continue down the road of life.  This year, I want to make a list of things I'm thankful for, not just for this year, but every year that has passed that I have chosen not to voice.

I am thankful for (in no particular order):

• My life
• My Heavenly Father
• My husband
• My children
• My childhood
• My parents
• My siblings
• A roof over my head
• My friends
• Transportation
• Music
• The gospel
• Uplifting music to listen to
• Running water
• Heat
• Beds
• Clothes
• Food

This list could go on much more.  But all these things and more I have had despite what has gone on in my life through trials.  And I'm ashamed to say I failed to see this list.  But I now see one important fact.  Like this artwork I've posted, Christ lifts us up through any trials we may encounter.  He is there for us in any storm.  He has unconditional love for each and every one of us no matter what we've done in life or how far we've strayed.  We just need to be willing to receive his love and help.  We need to be willing to change our lives, our attitudes, our habits, our character for good.  We need to be willing to grab hold of his hand so he can lift us up out of stormy waters.

The Existence of Goals

So many times in my life I have felt like the woman in this picture.  Almost out of reach and at times, just not enough.  I know that the true meaning of this artwork isn't what I express.  But when I look at this picture I see a woman like unto myself that is constantly reaching, but more often than not, never obtaining.

There are many goals since child-age that have come and gone.  And many times I've told myself, stupid silly goal, not realistic, not practical, not reachable, not affordable, etc.  And only one time did I truly go for it and in consequence, only one time did I obtained it.

I have found myself many times getting so close to a goal and quitting right before I can touch it.  It's right there in front of me.  I can see it, I can almost taste it, but I quit.  Why?  What am I afraid of?  I think along with being afraid to fail, I'm also worried I might not be good enough in the end.  Maybe my expectations are too high.  Because I often feel that in order for me to be good at something, it means that I need to be perfect at it or it doesn't count.  That I need to give it more than what I've got or it's not enough.  This is what I struggle with.

Things happen in my life to make me question who I am.  Even if they are things that I haven't done but feel eyes watching me, it makes me question my integrity.  That in turn, blocks my path toward any goals I have.  Something this has trained me to do is put all goals aside and just...live.  Live to take care of my husband and kids.  Live to make sure I'm following what Christ would have me do.  One thing I don't know how to do is balance what I want out of life with what I have to do in life to make it by.

I want to be that person who is smiling all the time.  The person who can always find the positive out of any negative situation.  The person who makes a goal and attains it even through stumbles and obstacles along the way.  I want to be at a point where I feel like I can keep my goals unhidden and actually strive to fulfill them.

It was mentioned in class at church yesterday that this earth life is like kindergarten.  We are in an aggressive learning process that can sometimes feel overwhelming.  Maybe that's what I need to take with me.  Because even though kindergarten is where we learn all of our fundamentals, they also have plenty of play time too.  I just have to find it in myself to be okay with that aspect.  And that's where my personal goals will come in.

But one thing I do look forward to, the one goal that I actually don't have shoved in a drawer or swept under the rug is a moment like this:

 This is one precious goal that I will not let anyone tear me from.  A goal that I want my children to have.

Big Boy Emery!

Yesterday was Emery's 3rd birthday.  He woke up so excited and the first thing he said was, "My Humpty Dumpty happy birthday cake?"  For those of you who don't know, Emery has been obsessed with Humpty Dumpty for the last several months.  So much so that he gets up on the backs of couches and starts singing the song and falls at the appropriate time.  Constantly.  He owns several Humpty Dumpty books and loves to watch any preschool show featuring the famous egg.  Speaking of which, where did the image of an egg come from anyways?  Nowhere in the nursery rhyme does it mention Humpty actually being an egg.  Hmmm....something to think about.

Anyways, the last minute party turned out cute and Emery had so much fun being big.  It's no longer my two  babies.  Now it's just one baby left.  This morning he woke up and said (after telling me his ear was gone) that he's bigger now.

He got lots of cool little toys and had a hard time going to the next present each time after opening one.  He wanted to play with them as soon as they were opened.  Christmas is going to be fun...

We had the celebration at Emery's cousin's house.  He was really looking forward to it and couldn't wait to get there to play with "my Hailey".

HAPPY BIRTHDAY EMERY!  WE LOVE YOU!

Culture Shock?

I am originally from the great northwest; Oregon City, to be exact.  I grew up there.  From birth to college, I called it my home.  I am also a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  Being a minority for me was normal.  A minority in my faith.  But it was all I knew.  I had many friends from church, but I also had that much more in friends that didn't practice my faith.  I loved all my friends.  And still do, as I have kept contact with many of them.  Despite having different values and goals, they respected me without me having to ask for it.  Some of them may have had other habits that I didn't do, but they never once pressured me into trying anything and I love them all the more for it.  I loved my home, I loved my school, I loved the geography all around me.

I grew up, I got married, and I started a family.

Then one day, as my husband was just laid off from work, we decided to move to Utah.  This move wasn't just a whim.  We had both been in Utah before as singles going to college at one point or another.  Neither of us finished school.  But we felt we should go back because that's where our original schooling was and my husband wanted to finish.  So, in 2003 we took our two children and moved to the desert.  I had every intention of moving back to Oregon as soon as my husband walked the stage to get his degree.  Eight years and two additional kids later, we find ourselves back in the northwest.  I won't go into detail about all the happenings in the eight years.  That's a story for another time, each with it's own honor.

But I can tell you this:  I am a different person, at least, I think I am.

Moving back wasn't entirely a choice.  It's always been in the back of my mind as I spent year after year in the high elevation.  But I wanted to move back on a positive note.  Not out of necessity.  But I guess, in the end, does it really matter how you get there as long as you get what you want?  Well, yes, it does.  It it matters more than I ever assumed it would.  You see, we have a funny thing called a brain.  And that thing; it holds all of our thoughts.  Our thoughts are what control our attitude.  When you have a certain goal in mind and a certain way you want to attain that goal, when things go off kilter, at least for me, my thought process about myself and why things didn't go my way turns into "what's wrong with me?"  It spins in my head over and over.

Being back in the northwest is a a bittersweet emotion for me.  Just before moving away from Utah, I had a plan.  I was going to move in with my sister until my husband found a place to live.  I knew I had at least two to three months before moving out of the state.  I was going to have a party with all my Utah friends and family in attendance.  I was going to say a proper good-bye.  That didn't happen.  Instead, about a week after imagining what the last two months in Utah would be like, we left.  It was a good thing.  It needed to happen.  But I wasn't prepared.  In my mind, the last eight years, I had been planning and plotting a way to get back to Oregon.  Pretty much since the day we left Oregon.  But I could never have prepared for the way I would feel coming back after having been away for eight years.

Something I never let myself in on, was emotional ties.  I kinda forgot about that aspect of living.  Utah seemed so temporary to me.  Ask any of my Utah friends and they will tell you how much I missed home.  I was so busy occupying my mind with the thought of "how do I get back" that I didn't notice how attached I was becoming to my Utah friends and life.  Don't get me wrong, I still firmly believe that Utah pales in comparison to the northwest's beauty (sorry Utah friends).  But when you spend eight years in one place, you slowly meld into your surroundings.  You become "one of them".  I remember when we first moved to Utah, my views on the church membership there.  I stereotyped it, big time.  And I'll still attest that many of them are true in many parts of Utah.  Be them good or bad.  It's different there.  The teachings and gospel are the same, but the people and the atmosphere are strikingly different.

When we moved back, I found myself thinking (a lot) "Why are they doing it like that?  Why don't they do it like such-and-such ward?" and "What the heck?  What's wrong with them?" referring to the church congregations in the northwest that I have attended since being back.  Then I immediately thought to myself, "Oh no, what did I just think?  What happened to me?"  Did I really become a Utahan?  I found myself strangely displaced in the congregations here.  A feeling I certainly never expected to feel being back home.  I guess it's more me.  I guess it's more mental.  I don't tell you this to pick at the way members of the church are in Utah versus the members of the church here in the northwest.  I am making an observation more about myself and how I changed but never saw it coming.  I never noticed it.  It just...happened.  And I'm not sure what to do with it yet.  It's something that I have just recently discovered.  In the beginning I was frustrated with myself.  Why am I struggling here?  The place I was born, the place where I grew up, the home that I know and STILL love?  That's when you truly do some sole searching.

I love the northwest.  My heart is truly here and I'm where I need to be, I know it.  But maybe this journey, for me at least, is to discover who I truly am.  I don't have to be just an Oregonian, I can be a Utahan too, and that's okay.  There's nothing wrong with blends.  Without blending different ingredients, how do you have a wonderful dish?