A Daughter Called Abundance

Take ye wives, and beget sons and daughters;
and take wives for your sons,
and give your daughters to husbands
that they may bear sons and daughters;
that ye may be increased there,
and not diminished. ~Jerimiah 29:6

 

Poets may try to describe Abundance, but the essence of rapture, wholeness, blessedness, and security cannot be compressed into a boxful of words, smashed down or unleashed, tied with ribbon, or thrown to the wind. Abundance will not be portioned by words, which is ironic, since abundance craves to be shared, divided and multiplied. It runs over and spills and diffuses joy like a crystal chandelier, washing everything to a glow and bringing out the vivid colors in a world that ordinarily appears...ordinary.

My Baby became Bride one week ago. All her life (and the hordes of people who adore her will attest) she has created Abundance: it goes before her, surrounds her, and leaves a wake behind her. She lives like the  exuberant child she once was: playful and joyous in a pool filled with Abundance; splashing all the rest of us, drenching all the rest of us, laughing at our surprise. 

Her bridal gown appeared luminous, reflecting the natural sparkle in her countenance. She glittered like a summer lake, enticing everyone to dive in and cool off in her. For those of us who have known her the longest and loved her the best, Hannah has long been such a refuge; a mountain retreat where we are refreshed by Abundance.

Wedding Day became the opportunity for all of us to return the favor. Fans and friends and family threw love and memories and gratitude and talents and hope like kindling into the fire Kenneth and Hannah had ignited, then stood in awe and watched the blaze until we thought it touched the stars. Breathless at the perfect beauty of living, we basked in Unity and Abundance for hours until they were carried off in fairy-tale style. Content in the afterglow, we sat around the fire of friendship after they left us, staying warm by the embers.

My baby became Bride one week ago. Just like one of the butterflies on her cake, or in her flowers, or around her neck, she fluttered into the cupped hands of her perfect man. He held her with wonder and tenderness; stunned that such a fine, delicate, thrilling creature had chosen to alight on him and kiss his face forever.

All the rest of us are delighted that it is his glass jar that she's chosen to live in. We know he will feed and protect and marvel at her and that together, they will transform life as we know it.

Abundance has a way of enlightening and enlarging everything.

 A mother's treasure is her daughter. ~Catherine Pulsifer

Inspirational Words of Wisdom

What's a Family For?

“Sometimes we want to have growth without challenges and to develop strength without any struggle. But growth cannot come by taking the easy way. We clearly understand that an athlete who resists rigorous training will never become a world-class athlete. We must be careful that we don’t resent the very things that help us put on the divine nature.” Elder Paul V. Johnson of the Seventy, General Conference, April 2011

His tiny face is dominated by the largest eyes I have ever seen on a baby and the thick shock of shiny yellow hair is a delightful contrast and surprise. His perfect head lay against the pillow on my lap, so that we could interact face to face while we rocked. It was our first opportunity to have a real interview – just Grammy and Little Boy Blue.

Of course, I had lots of questions and I asked them, but he was reticent to answer just yet. He knew I suppose, that his recollections of the home he’d left a week before were too brilliant for my dull brain; I might explode if he revealed too much. So instead, he kept his intelligence under wraps -- only he couldn’t keep the glow of it from spilling out of those huge, black eyes. I rocked, basked in his glory, and took up the slack in the conversation.

Grandma banter covers a lot of ground. For instance, Little Boy Blue is now oriented to nearly every Merit Badge. (I think he’s excited about Cubs.) Yet for all the talk, most of our bonding time was spent silently appraising one another; just staring; just considering the possibilities.

I must admit, when Old meets New like that, the bulk of “possibilities” are on a grand scale: what grandma doesn’t wonder if she is holding a future President of the United States or the genius who may cure cancer? On the other hand, and maybe because I had just attended Sir Henry’s memorial and graveside service, I realized with a slight shudder that “the possibilities” also included a great deal of loss and pain.

All of a sudden, I wanted to protect my Little Boy Blue from real life. And then I wanted to protect his parents. My imaginary umbrella grew and grew until it ballooned big enough to cover an entire group of people – the ones I call “family”.

What really saddened me momentarily was the thought that my umbrella was not made of some heavy Indian rubber, but was more of a parasol made of paper. Nothing I could do would ever shield my loved ones, especially Little Boy Blue, from the risks associated in the Plan of Salvation, nor would/should I desire such a thing. The prospect of growth, of growth all the way to perfection, over-ruled my natural instinct to squelch trouble and tribulation from having their sway.

And then there’s my baby girl, who will be married next Saturday. Talk about risk! I envision she and her Little-Boy-Blue-nephew jumping feet-first into very deep water, while I wait, somewhat helplessly, at pool’s edge to see how long before they come up for air. Each of them are surrendering all illusion of control, giving themselves wholly into the hands of others, with no other strategy or defense or protection other than love.

With that picture, the things I had been studying and musing about recently, finally all came together and sunk deep into my heart. The essence of it is this:

The rain and the sun in Father’s Plan of Happiness, his Plan of Redemption, our tailor-made Plan of Spiritual Maturation, is obviously not about deflecting pain. It’s about absorbing pain; greater and greater amounts of it. With each new addition to our family, through marriage or birth, the risks may be increasing, but from where else comes the joy of progress? Family life is not a way of hiding or shading from suffering, but a way of suffering purposefully. No family will ever come into being, or become ultimately successful,  who doesn’t accept that reality and relinquish control over life and one another, which, in fact, is precisely how love wins in the end and fills our lives with the peace and abundance we all crave.

I wanted to explain all that to Little Boy Blue as he lay on my lap: I wanted to teach him that instead of fearing “the possibilities”, he should completely and enthusiastically embrace them, even relish them, and that we, his family, would love him through every eventuality. But just as I was formulating the words, those great, dark eyes lit up, a quiver of a smile passed his lips, and I heard a petite voice say, “It’s alright Grammy, I’ll take good care of you. It’s gonna be so much fun.”

Related Musings:
Imagine a Life
What You Don't Have of Have Lost

Every Plan (and Parent) Has a Dream

Our Number-Two-Grandson was born this week: Number One to Number-Three (our son) and Number-Three-Plus-One (our daughter-in-law). I dug through my journal to find something I could share tonight as gift to them. I finally found this entry. My husband calls it "prophecy" because it was written on:

Friday, June 16, 2000

            "My own children have asked me: how did you and Dad turn out such good kids as us? (smile)  I've never had a really good answer, but as I've pondered lately, the spirit has led me to recognize one point in particular.

 .           It is: Planning Ahead.

             I don't mean just planning ahead to tomorrow, or next week, or even next year.  I mean - REALLY planning ahead: like a lifetime ahead.

            Even as a teen I was concerned about my future family. I worried over how I would  EVER know how to handle each child and every circumstance? Even at 13, 15, or 17, I realized that life was a parade of endless scenarios and unique personalities. There couldn't be enough how-to books in the world to cover every possibility. And I worried about that. No amount of preparation could possibly be sufficient.

            I was relieved when the answer gradually dawned on me: cultivate the gifts of the Spirit.  Learn to recognize and utilize promptings. The Spirit will customize revelation to fit any circumstance you might face as a parent.

            Of course!  So that is what I did. I learned to listen to and trust this constant companion.

            Then I met my Honey. As the reality of parenthood loomed before me, I worried again: surely the Lord expected me to gain practical knowledge. So, I looked for opportunities to work and play with children. While socializing, I observed and actually studied the parents and kids.  Everything I saw, questioned, or reasoned, I would bounce off my new husband. He enjoyed it as much as I did. I took family life classes at college and read many books on the practical side of parenting. I learned about child development, effective communication, natural consequences and discipline.  I learned about keeping a clean and organized home. I learned and learned and learned and learned!  It seemed wrong to me that the world invested so much of time and energy into preparing for a profession outside of the home, and yet ANYONE could "make people" with practically NO training!                        

Dale and I talked and talked and planned and planned.

            The irony, or blessing of it all, is that our firstborn was severely disabled and our self-imposed education came to a new crossroads. We set out on a whole new avenue of exploration as we passed through an intensive formal course in the treatment of brain injury and the raising a very special human being.

            Nevertheless, in one of the photos of Ashley and me in our very first days together on this earth (and before we knew of her challenges), one element now leaps out. I am cradling my six pound daughter in my hands, holding her tiny face up to my lips. We are in her "nursery", which gave me so much joy to design. Behind us is a bulletin board with carefully arranged pictures representing basic gospel principles like scripture study, families, church going, tithing, the Savior, and even the temple --in a nursery!

            And that’s the key: I had already planned for my infant going to the temple. I was already treating her like the old, intelligent spirit that she really was, capable from the first moment of life to absorb truth. I believed that she was very, very GOOD. 

            As three more children joined our family, I was forever thinking ahead. One foot was always in the present and the other in the future. My visualizations knew no bounds. Some were of everyday choices and routines. Others were on a grander scale. The realization of some were only a few years away, others decades away. I was seeing my children's future when I still had only myself to converse with during the days.

           And through it all, there has been plenty of room for their own dreams. I never went so far as to "plan" their careers, interests, talents, or friendships. I have relished in the passing years, a sense of wonder and surprise at their choices and creations, all within the context of goodness. Their independence from me and their father is my "ultimate" plan.

            Now, a note about "wishes" verses "desire" should be inserted here: these were not just pretty pictures I painted in my daydreams, nor were they set forth on a piece of paper that might someday be lost or obsolete. These were LIVING goals, burned into my heart, my very being! The images were so real, that if there were some way to navigate time, I could have reached out and touched them. It felt (and feels) like they already DO exist, just in some other dimension that I will eventually and inevitably catch up with. I didn't just "want" these things to come to pass, like "it would be nice if...". My desire was very keen. I had absolute faith that they would happen. The Lord speaks of "desire" as in "desiring the things of righteousness." It is very clear that he did not mean fantasizing to be sufficient. True faith and desire motivates to action and a reliance on the Lord Jesus Christ. This is what I had.

            In consideration of the principle of "action," I believe I can say without exaggeration that in my adult life, every single choice, whether very tiny or very great, has been based on a single criterion: how will this bless or harm my children? Will this support or detract from the vision? As an example, I am, in fact, writing even these thoughts primarily for my children as parents. I see myself making a gift of this little book of counsel and experience to my daughter or daughter-in-law, as preparations are made for her new baby.

Living within this paradigm is not to say that I have no life, or ambitions, or talents of my own. As I grow old, I will be able to rejoice in a rich assortment of happy personal accomplishments that are dear to me, but none were realized at a price to my children. Any assignment or pursuit was only undertaken when I was satisfied through personal revelation that it would actually enrich my family. And the Lord has never disappointed me. Each of my own experiences has truly, truly blessed my children in some way. And in return has blessed me! I have never felt "sacrificed" in any way. The resulting sense of "fulfillment" and gratitude and joy and personal growth is beyond expression as any "professional" mother will tell you. These precious feelings of the heart and mind are far, far, away, and superior to the glitter of worldly attainment.

            I know that someday, such a keen awareness of my every move will not be of necessity, omnipresent in my thoughts. My children will have lives and families of their own: good lives, I might add. I know, because I have seen them! In that same vision, I see myself as a grandmother, matriarch of a marvelous extended family who enjoy and support one another and celebrate life together! Yet even as the children will no longer be under my direct care, and my husband and I will be "free" to devote ourselves to other forms of service in the Lord's kingdom on earth and in heaven, I see clearly that my "motherhood" will never end.

       
I believe in family for all eternity, and already -- I am planning ahead."

Muse with me: What kind of "plans" (or dreams) do you have for your family? Which of your dreams have come to pass?

Related Musings: 
Wish List

Galaxy Quest: Advice for Parents Who Want to Know
Old Beginnings

Father's Day Detour

Thirty-four years ago, a boy who made me laugh, promised to make me laugh forever. We both knew he had no idea how to deliver, but at 19, laughter cannot be supplanted by practicality.

To see what has become of us, or rather, what has become of HIM, please visit my Father's Day musing at Mona's Musings with a Hint of Romance.

Happy Father's Day my Friend, my Friends, my Brothers, my Priesthood Brothers, my biological Fathers and Sons, and my Fathers and Sons in spirit!

May the women in your life appreciate and respect you.

You're Home Now

“This was a real, truly live place….I remember that some of it wasn’t very nice…but most of it was beautiful. But just the same, all I kept saying to everybody was, I want to go home. And they sent me home… And this is my room – and you’re all here! And I’m not going to leave here ever, ever again, because I love you all! And – on Auntie Em! – there’s no place like home.” Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz

Raising children in one corner of the United States, when everything I knew and loved best was 3,000 miles diagonally in the other corner was hard.

When parenthood overwhelmed me, I needed my mommy but this was before MMB, FB, AOL or IM (“long-distance” meant an expensive phone call and “leavin’ on a jet plane” was still exotic enough that the radio played songs about it).

And where were my friends? After high school or college, we’d scattered like the children of Israel.

Not only was this emotional terrain challenging to me, I refused to get comfortable with the physical environment. Palm trees, in my opinion, could never replace evergreens, and water in the air could never compare to water from the sky.

It scared and dismayed me--being so far from “home”.

This sickness turned toxic when it began to affect the precious relationships that had taken me to Oz: my in-laws, my children, my husband. At that point, Heaven knew it was time to intervene for their sake as well as my own, so a good fairy was sent on the errand; an angel named Aunt Athlene, my mother’s sister.

We talked for a long time over the phone —I mean, I talked for a long time, and she listened. After my whimpers were extinguished with just the right dose of sympathy, she turned me upside down with this profound perspective:

What you need to understand, darling,” she began gently, “is that you do not have “A” home. Rather, you have many homes -- or you WILL have many homes -- as a woman. There will always be the “home” of your childhood, but you also have the “home” of your college years; the “home” of your early married life; now another “home” of your young family life; and perhaps another in your mature years. They may even put you in a “home” when you’re an old grandma like me!”

She laughed.

“You will see with time,” she continued, “that each “home” in your life becomes saturated with its own memories, its own traditions and its own purpose. Think about this: your babyhood home must have felt very strange -- so different from the one you left in heaven – but aren’t you glad you made THAT move?”

I have mused a lot this week over that advice from long ago: in ten days we are leaving this little London flat for our three-story house, and I can hardly believe it was thirteen months ago I was leaving the U.S. for a place called England.

Experiences still too fresh to be called 'memories' are flooding me like the waters of the Red Sea on the armies of Pharaoh; I could almost drown in them. It is comforting to know that most of those experiences have been packaged in words and photos, blogs and journals. Even so, it is discomfiting that the flesh of it all, the people, cannot be shipped with the furniture. The only place for them is in my heart.

Aunt Athlene was right: life is all about creating a home, wherever you are and for however long, and the sooner you accept that and get on with it, the faster you can grow and the more love there is in the world.

So say it I must: good-bye wonderful London --you're (another) “home” now.

“I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself.”
Maya Angelou

Muse with me: are you "home"?

Click on the ruby slippers to watch a music video you may get as hooked on as I have:
"There Is No Place Like Home"

Wish List

My little grandson, who I've pet-named "Biscuit", pulled himself up onto the low stone wall surrounding the fountain with speed and agility. I held his waist as a precaution, visualizing his headfirst tumble into the clear water, which, now that I think of it, wouldn’t have been so bad on a February day in Florida. It was 80 degrees yesterday.

I love Florida winters. For 13 years I loved rolling down the car window, letting my bare arm ride the wind, gloating at the top of my lungs: “Hello Buffalo! Hello Minnesota! I live in Orrrrlllaaandooo!” My little riders would giggle as they imitated me, which must have been a sight for the car behind us. By a fluke, our daddy’s career had transferred us from aspens to palm trees and I was determined to make the best of this foreign environment, which in truth, I was not all that fond of. There was something wonderful to be said however, for routinely spending family home evening at Disney World.

Home is now in the Douglas firs, on the opposite corner of the map, so this weekend I am not Resident, but Tourist in this world of “Worlds” (did you know there’s even a “Sock World” here???) It’s Biscuit’s fourth birthday, he still lives here, so Grandma’s back, and we’re doin’ Disney, perched on the fountain at the entrance to Epcot…

“Here’s a penny Biscuit. Throw it into the water and make a wish.”

He grinned and looked at me quizzically.

“A wish is something you would like to have - or to happen.”

He looked through the bubbles at the coins on the bottom of the fountain. “See? Other people made wishes here too.”

He still hesitated. I took another penny out of my wallet and squeezed my eyes shut. “I wish Biscuit will grow very tall.”

My penny flew through the air and splashed into the waterfall.

His eyes lit up. With a fling that surprised even me, his penny sailed to the very top of the tiered fountain. He was joyful. The whole tossing business proved great fun for the next ten cents, but he never did enjoin a “wish” upon his pennies. He didn’t get it and I couldn’t explain it.

Somehow, when I very young, I knew all about wishes. Clear summer nights in the Pacific Northwest are perfect for outdoor sleep-over’s and my brothers and I often toted our pillows and blankets into the yard. There I thought deep thoughts (for a little person) and wondered at the universe just out of reach. And I always made wishes. My Disney-inspired conversation with Biscuit made me realize that it’s a practice I’ve never outgrown.

As recently as last week, straightening my “writing” desk, I wished once again that I could find the time to finish my book. The dust was pretty thick. No one had touched that desk, that keyboard, that stack of books and notes for a long time. Of course, no one would, but me. Funny that I thought the auspicious moving of the table to the front room would make any difference. Just because it’s in plain sight doesn’t mean I’ll have any more time than normal to write.

I felt hopeless and was tempted to put all the dust-collecting paraphernalia away until a little cricket appeared on my shoulder and whispered:

Make a list. Take inventory of every wish you can ever remember making.

Exercising a rusty brain took some doing, but I finally had my list. I starred at those thirty wishes with amazement, including the first few which were made under the stars by a little girl with lots of faith. Twenty-five of the thirty had materialized and there was every possibility that the other five still might.

The first wish I ever made reflects a child’s priorities, but it was real and sustained and added-upon every time we took a family vacation. I had forgotten it altogether until I made my list. There must be at least fifty stars bearing the innocent aspiration:

I wish I lived next to Disneyland.

Just tonight, my sweet friend Dana shared with me a Meridian article written by H. Wallace Goddard entitled: “You Can Write Your Blessings—If You Do Right” which I strongly recommend for a fuller treatment of this subject. I quote the opening paragraph:

“Heber C. Kimball made an extraordinary invitation: “I have said often, you may write blessings for yourselves and insert every good thing you can think of, and it will all come to pass on your heads, if you do right.” (From an address in the Old Tabernacle, August 1853.)

I have loved “the right” all my life. I believe that God delights in my happiness, the way I delight in giving my grandbaby happiness. In the eternal scheme of things, among stars and comets and nebula, I am my Heavenly Father’s little girl. If a dream is a wish your heart makes, only He can know it and only He can fill it. And since compiling my "wish list" I BELIEVE more than ever that He will.

What do you think a wish is? I hope you'll share one or two... or if you make your own "wish list" I'd love to hear about it.

"When You Wish Upon a Star"
Video by Mona and Grant. Music by N'Sync. Photos by NASA.