Beauty

Last weekend I watched a chick flick. There was a scene that I keep replaying in my mind. I'm not sure why, but I think it has to do with the truth that it holds.
A young couple was observing an elderly couple, walking, helping one another. The young woman says (and I'm paraphrasing because I can't quite remember the exact dialogue), "Now there's love. I'll bet that couple has been together for at least 50 years." to which the young man says, "See that's the problem with our day; everyone is too concerned with making themselves younger, better-looking, etc. The beauty in a relationship is being ABLE to grow old with someone and still love that person unconditionally."
Growing old with someone. There is beauty to growing old. Having someone right along side you for the journey creates balance in a way. Todd and I are coming up on our 10 year anniversary. We both have a few more wrinkles and gray hairs than we did 10 years ago, but I wouldn't take any one of them away. Each represents an experience we shared; a joy, a fear, a heartache, a worry, a smile. It has shaped our relationship. What's so exciting is how many more there are to come. How is it our world has been blinded by counterfeit beauty?
I watch Todd's Grandpa now in his last days on this earth. He and his sweet wife have loved each other for over 60 years. You'll still find them caressing one another, kissing, holding hands. When I think of them, it's hard to imagine one without the other. They are one. Their love is real, unconditional and eternally rooted and bound. There is beauty to that.
Out with the fountain of youth obsession. My vote is to see more of the real stuff.

Just Wrong

I had a "mommy moment" this week that I would just as soon forget. In fact I wish I could have lived my entire life without experiencing it. It was Tuesday, my crazy morning days, I had just returned from taking the girls to an early-morning violin lesson. It was 9:10 a.m. and I had just dropped them off at school. I had Joy School at my house this week, so 6 preschoolers were arriving at my house in 5 minutes. Was I ready? Was the house in order? Did I know where the Joy School cd was that I needed for that day's lesson? These and many other thoughts fleeted through my already tired, scrambled mind. As I walked in from the garage and through the laundry room, I smelled something bad, nay nasty. I remembered that I had put in a load of laundry the night before, so as I dashed in to put violins away and make sure all was in order, I made a mental note to switch the laundry. Could they be that stinky already? I brushed the thought off, thinking they'd be just fine if I could get them into the dryer.
I quickly found the cd, pushed play for welcome music, got Todd sweeping up breakfast off the floor and getting breakfast dishes in the dishwasher, found the weather and date charts I needed and then the doorbell rang. I shuffled the first child through the door and remembered I still needed to change the dang laundry. If I didn't do it now, they'd only get stinkier.
Before anyone else arrived, I ran into the laundry room and started throwing the wet clothes into the dryer. Whew, this stuff really smelled bad. Knowing I didn't have time for anything else, I threw the last of it into the dryer, the last item being a very water-logged empty diaper! My brain circuits started to connect as I realized what I had been smelling. I opened the washer to find it covered with chunks of poop, some large, some small, smeared around the entire inside. Jaw on the floor, I went back to the dryer, looking at the clothes and upon closer examination I found many more chunks of poo throughout the whole batch of "clean" clothes. I closed the doors, all of them, grabbed the air freshener, hoping to mask the stench before all the moms arriving thought they were sending their kids to Cesspool School. Disgusting. Gross. Just Wrong.
Finished Joy School. Sent them out the door and knew I had to clean up the mess. How do I do that? Lots of bleach, lots of hot water and lots of cycles. Here's hoping I got all the chunks.
I couldn't fairly put the blame on little Andrew, who did help me put the laundry in the washer the night before. Here's the most accurate explanation I can come up with, however weak it may be: Sometimes when I load up a basket of dirty clothes to bring downstairs, and if I have a fresh poopy diaper I need to bring as well, I'll stick it into the corner of the basket that is already going down, POSITIVE that I will remember to put it in the garbage before I decide to dump the load into the washer. I should have learned by now not to rely on my non-existent memory.
So to all moms out there, here's a fair warning: don't dump, sift the laundry. Then you will know precisely what is going to be washed. No, there is no such thing as "clean poop".

Can I Give Him Five?

A few weekends ago, Todd and I took the kids to the first BYU home game--go Cougs! We sat close to the front, on an aisle seat. Those of you who know our little Drew also know that when he sets his mind on something, he perseveres until he accomplishes what he has so-stubbornly decided to do--(heck, I think I could say that about the other 3 as well!) Because we were so close to the front, he had a clear view of Cosmo and was determined to "give him five". Todd's mom, sweet, compassionate and the pushover-grandma that she is, picks him up and marches him right down to the front. All it took was a few shouts of his name and, even through the costume and all the crowd noise, he turned and came over to perma-grinned Andrew. He held out his hand and scored his own little touchdown with a high five from Cosmo the Cougar.
About a week later, we were in church, trying to listen to the speaker. Andrew was on the ground, playing with cars and the speaker was quoting a scripture or something where the name of Jesus was said. Andrew's little ears perked up and he suddenly got a sad look on his face and said, "Mommy, I wuv Jesus, I miss Him." It was so sweet and tender that I had to scoop him up and hold him and tell him that Jesus loves him too and that we will see Him again. I told him to talk to Jesus any time he wants to through prayer.
About a day or so later, we were driving in the car somewhere and again, he brought up Jesus. He understands that He died a long time ago and he understands a bit about the Resurrection, but he doesn't understand why Jesus is not here with us right now. He said, "Mommy, I want to give Him five." I didn't know whether to laugh or cry in that moment. It exposed his inner 3-year-old feelings, expressing them in the only way he knew how. I think I'd be safe in saying Jesus will be waiting at the pearly gates, hand extended up for a high-five for Andrew. I hope I'll be there to witness it, fully aware of what that will mean to my little Drew. I'm sure he'll be wearing the same perma-grin then as he did for Cosmo the Cougar, knowing he scored yet another "touchdown" of his own.

We remember Sept. 11

As I was getting the kids ready for school this morning, I pulled out our US flag and positioned it in its holster on our front porch. As I chatted with the kids during breakfast, I asked if they understood why we were flying the flag today and what special day it was. Kendra's teacher talked about it with her class a few days ago, so she and I shared the details of Sept. 11, 2001 to captivated, wide-eyed Alli and Andrew. I guess I had not ever discussed this tragedy with the younger kids. We had a very open conversation about terrorism, death, pride for our country and everyday heroes. I shared with them my visit to Ground Zero and my feelings. Alli seemed surprised to hear that people died, to which Andrew piped in very confidently, "Yeah, but Dad saved you huh?" The only thing he was completely sure of was that his dad was indeed Superman.
Even as Todd now watches the replay of that tragic event on the History Channel, I feel a growing nausea in the pit of my stomach. That kind of hate and disregard for so many human lives is astounding and disturbing. I remember being glued to the television, unable to make sense of any of it for nearly a week. Our country came together for a brief moment, turned religious for a few weeks and then somehow, suddenly we forgot. Segregation and hostility crept in again and here we are, no more unified than we were prior to 9/11. Can we all just remember?
I hope the dialogue begun this morning with my children will continue not only about this, but with every major incident that so impacts our country, their future and any decision that affects how they treat another person.