and now it's been 3.5 months...

Okay, I have to be honest, life after residency seems.... uh... very... similar.

A close friend had warned me about that years ago, but of course I shook off the thought of it... especially since my expectations of life after residency were literally carrying me - at times - through the experiences of residency.

But to be honest, I feel certain that much of our survival during residency was possible because of our faith. I had an incredibly optimistic view of life. Maybe it was a way for me to be compelled to pray, to be humble, to seek strength from God, and to move forward in faith. Lately many of my friends have started questioning our faith. Because of all that I have been through with the Savior during the last five years of residency and fellowship, I feel more certainty than ever.

So, would I want to go through it all over again?

Yes, definitely.

Could I have done it without my faith and hope in and love for my Savior?

No, definitely not.

There are a lot of questions about the LDS faith. This is a thoughtful explanation about garments worn by some Latter-day Saints. There is so much meaning and depth in thoughtful, regular worship. I cannot imagine going without all of those moments of introspection and supplication to the Lord, contemplation on scriptural teachings, and feelings of peace, strength, love, hope that I received during the darkest and loneliest moments.

But, I am grateful it is over?

Yes.

Definitely.

"...we stay in... we keep working... we keep believing..."

My emotions are bundled up and overwhelmed with worries about finances... again. It is amazing how immobilized I feel when I start worrying. I can hardly function. I barely made it out of my pajamas today before my husband came home - from a 14 out of 24-hour work day. I'm sure there is a medical term for my inability to function... but I don't want my husband analyzing me so I don't think I'll ask him about it.

After I realized how tied up I was (and finished cleaning the entire house), I started to read. I grabbed every book that I could find that I had started reading in the last few months but never finished (it's a bad habit...). I let my kids build floating contraptions, make bubbles in the bathtub and turn on a huge fan to simulate an ocean storm. I let them play football and soccer in the house. I served leftovers for dinner... and cereal for breakfast. It was not a day I would like to brag about - ever. I just needed to read - to immerse myself - to distract myself.

Then I read these words: "We can't worry about what might have happened. All we can do is keep looking." (In 'Because of Winn-Dixie' - a book my daughter told me to read because she liked it so much).

Suddenly I was reminded of how destructive worrying is, what a waste of energy it truly is, that I can actually choose whether or not to worry, it is an action, an activity. And I suddenly felt calm inside. I decided to stop worrying. I knew I just needed to keep moving, continueing to work to take care of my family, play with my kids, be happy, have faith, and stop wasting my time and energy worrying about the future.

This is a neat video... I really like the lessons at the end.

"We stay in, we keep working, we keep believing, keep trusting, following that same path and we will live to fall in His arms and feel His embrace and hear Him say, "I told you it'd be ok, I told you it would be all right." 

I just love that.

chores, challenges and happiness

Since designing a chore chart in December and enacting a regular system of chores, (which also includes a new behavior-altering strategy), my house has been clean, my kids have been nicer and better behaved... and I have received a new insight into... my life.

I have learned:
When my kids are working, they are happier.
When my kids are working together, they fight with each other less.
When my kids have finished their chores, they seem satisfied with themselves and are more confident and happy.
When my kids have regular chores, they do not complain when I randomly ask them to help me with something.
When my kids have regular chores, they are too busy to bicker and fight.
When my kids do not have regular chores, they are initially grateful and "happy", but then gradually and inevitably they seem to become completely ungrateful... for everything.
When my kids have not had chores in a while, they begin to bicker and argue more.
When my kids have not had chores in a while, they complain more (about everything, it seems).
When my kids have not had chores in a while, they whine endlessly when asked to help with any random household duty.  They are much less likely to serve others.
When my kids do not have regular chores, they are much less happy.

The correlation is simple: are we similar, as children of Heavenly Father, in our reactions to challenges and obstacles, and even the daily humdrum, in our own lives? 

Are we happier when faced with challenges that demand our energy, attention, problem-solving skills?  Are we happier when we are working hard at something and realizing that we are accomplishing something, succeeding at something difficult?  Are we happier after (and because) we have overcome an obstacle or completed a difficult task?  More particularly, are we happier when we recognize the blessings we have, the help we receive from the Lord as we overcome challenges, and feel firsthand of His love for us, and as we realize how much he has helped us and that He wants us to be happy?

Of course.

I have probably heard this correlation thousands of times, but it suddenly felt more real and more important as I thought about my experiences with my own children and my (lovely) chore chart during the past few months.  Initially, I enjoyed working alongside my children, observing their growth and seeing the benefits of their busy minds and hands.  Plus, their behavior improved significantly when I began to assign additional chores for negative behavior, such as fighting, name-calling, bickering, talking back, laziness, etc.  But now, I don't just enjoy all of this, I feel an urgent need to be consistent with the chore system - every single day.

(I love my chore chart... very, very much.)

And now when I face a challenge in my life, I must admit that I think about my kids working, struggling, keeping out of trouble, and learning gratitude, and I smile.  Similarly, I think about how pleased Heavenly Father probably is as He watches me face a challenge without whining, refusing to cooperate, but with a willing heart; knowing that I can do my best and He will help me overcome or accomplish something if I fall short and that it will lead to greater happiness, gratitude and love for others.  And somehow it makes everything so much easier.

advice worth giving

A friend was visibly frustrated the other day as her four-year old daughter had a fit, in a room full of people.  She said it had been going on for about two weeks and was driving her crazy.  She mentioned how much she has enjoyed her babies, so small and cute, but how she now feels completely inept as her daughter gets older.

I quickly sputtered some words of advice - a few super good ones - like, "It just gets worse as they get older!" and "I often cry myself to sleep with feelings of guilt as I realize that I've ruined my once perfect little baby and I will never be able to fix him or her again!"

Wow.  I think, more than anything, I wanted to give advice, but didn't give myself time to think about it - just blurted it out as the opportunity presented itself and I couldn't let it pass!  I just love to give advice.

Then I shared something with her that a dear friend shared with me over the weekend.  She had eight children in eleven years.  She said, "The greatest thing I learned after experiencing all of those years and knowing what I know now is that if I kept trying and doing my best, Heavenly Father would make up for the rest.  I wasn't perfect.  I wanted to have control, but I couldn't.  I made lots of mistakes.  But now, I look at my kids and I know, without a doubt, that Heavenly Father made up for my ineptitude.  My children acquired numerous traits, talents, habits, testimonies, etc. that my husband and I never taught them or demonstrated for them.  Heavenly Father filled in where I neglected to do so.  My children developed in wonderful ways, ways that I never would have predicted or expected because of how my husband and I raised them."

She is one of those people that I want to get a paper and pencil and take notes whenever she speaks.  She is so full of love and goodness.

Anyways, this weekend I appreciated this advice immensely.  I needed it.  More than anything, I think my children will teach me to be humble.  I hope somewhere in there I can teach them something, but I'm not sure if that actually ever happens.  I was grateful for my friend's perspective, her reminder that Heavenly Father is aware of our needs, and more importantly, our children's needs, and that he is invested in them and wants them to succeed, be happy, make good choices - all of the things we want for them - and He will help us make it happen.

Nail Polish and Insecurity

For years people asked me about my big left toenail.

Complete strangers would look at my toenail with crunched up faces and boldly ask, "What happened to your toenail?" I was amazed by their brazenness and wandering eyes, and was completely baffled by their perception and concern. I thought, again and again, "Why are people even looking at my toes? I don't look at other people's toes, let alone the details of their toenails. And why do people even care about my toes?" But, the question was inevitable, everywhere I went with my toemail parading around in flip flops or with bare feet.

Initially, I wasn't shaken by the question. I had embraced my toenail, or rather, the absence of one. In general I don't put too much emphasis on my appearance, so I wasn't about to let one of my big toenails give me a complex. Time and again, I responded to the question, baffled anew each time. But, rather than worry about my toenail, I legitimately worried about the people who asked me about it. I really worried about them because I simply could not console myself with sufficiently satisfactory answers to my own questions.

But, with time and continued recurrence, their question did begin to affect me.

For a brief period of my life I actually fretted over the toenail. I only wore sandals that covered my toes, even while living in a hot climate. Every week I spent extra time smothering layer after layer of nail polish over it. I worried about going to the beach or a local swimming pool. I worried about allowing my big toenail to be seen in public - ever. I began to wonder what I could possibly do to change my big toenail, to cover it up, to replace it, to make it look normal again. Eventually I wondered why I had been dealt such a cruel hand, and actually began feeling sorry for myself - because of my toenail. I had allowed the questioning from people, strangers and friends alike, to actually get to me.

I had begun to care deeply about what other people thought of my big left toenail, of me.

Luckily, there was only so much worrying I could do over my physical appearance, and I had to move on. I stopped worrying. Maybe this too is genetic. Maybe I matured, maybe I got tired of stressing over something that I couldn't change about my body. Maybe I was just too busy for a complex. Maybe it was more of "the benefits of turning thirty."

People stopped asking.

I realized today that it's been at least two years since anyone has taken notice and inquired about my strange looking big left toenails. My toe looks exactly the same. I stopped covering it up.

Maybe it was my focus on and attitude towards my toenail that changed.

Is it possible that we sometimes fret over our physical appearance in such a way that we actually draw others' attention to it unknowingly? And even if we are not worried about an aspect of our physical appearance, are we open and curious enough to discover what people think about it, and therefore draw attention to it? How do we get over something about our physical appearance when the world around us continuously reminds us that it is not acceptable?

I don't know - I am totally baffled by the case of my big left toenail. But I do know that I wish I had just ignored my big left toenail during that brief period years ago. I wish that I had not let other people's questioning bother me, and lead me to my toenail, and myself, in a negative way. I wish that I had not felt so insecure and self-conscious. I wish that I had not focused so much mental and physical energy on avoiding disrupting others' views of my toes.

But, mostly I wish that I had never been insecure about my toenail, about myself. Maybe I have matured and grown out of all of that now, even without the help of the nail polish and toe-covered shoes.

Now, that would be nice.

A Mental Picture I Will Never Forget

The other day, my husband arrived home at 8:30 a.m. after a night in the hospital. It was my 2-year old son's birthday. When he heard the garage door open, he immediately dropped the dump truck he had been playing with and exploded out the door. My husband was waiting for him in a squat as he ran full speed into his open arms. My husband threw him into the air and said, "Happy Birthday!" My 1-year old was not far behind. He toddled towards his dad as fast as his little legs would carry him and arrived just in time to be scooped up by my husband's one empty arm. He stood with his back to me as he held both boys effortlessly, one in each arm, chatting and laughing with them.

I was hit suddenly and powerfully by the realization of how sweet that greeting truly was. In a flash I felt like my memory was taking a photograph of my husband standing there, young and strong, holding his two boys in his arms. Their adoration of him and his love and care for them were almost palpable. I realized that someday his body will be bent over with age and unable to easily pick up little children. I realized that someday, there won't be little kids that will run up to my husband when he arrives home. The thoughts that blasted me during those few seconds made it feel like minutes had passed.

My husband turned to walk towards me standing in the doorway. The realization came with such force that I had to turn away from him so that he would not notice my tears.

It was an unusual experience, but one that I later tied to an earlier experience.

About two weeks ago, I was heading away from my checkout isle at Costco, eager to get in line to have my receipt marked off. An elderly gentlemen was ahead of me. He pushed his cart along slowly, with much effort. We were far from the exit. Out of habit I swerved my cart slightly in order to quickly pass him on his left. Suddenly, I thought of how frustrating it must be for him to constantly have people breezing past. I thought: someday that could be my husband, hobbling slowly along, leaning on his cart, alone.

I pulled back. I couldn't pass him.

I wondered if he wished he could be young again, full of strength and speed. I wondered if he was lonely when he arrived home. I wondered if he was saddened that everyone overlooked him and zoomed past. I wondered if he had many regrets. I wondered if he was happy. I wanted him to feel recognized and respected. More than anything, I hoped that he had someone waiting for him at home, someone that adored him and appreciated him. Tears came to my eyes as I walked slowly behind him.

These experiences reminded me of how precious and temporary life really is. We change quickly, and inevitably, all of us. Our daily choices and experiences increase our love for others, our depth of understanding and compassion, and our inner peace and happiness.

Hopefully.