the marriage relationship can offer so much strength

Communication is... everything... in marriage - I've decided recently.

I had a mental breakdown (I can honestly say that now, looking back) after I found out that my husband received the fellowship position starting in July, 2013.  I had not felt depressed before - ever - in my life.  It was a heavy feeling, but it was easy to ignore because my life is so hectic and crazy - almost every minute of every day.  Easy to ignore until things were quiet and calm, until I had time to think.  Gradually though, it completely encircled me, and I completely lost all energy or desire to do things that I used to love.  I felt like I couldn't handle anything.  And I started to assume that my husband felt that way too - not about himself but about me.  I avoided talking with him, thinking that he wouldn't understand and hoping that I would be able to just "get myself out of it".  But the vicious cycle continued.  I kept pushing him away and feeling worse about myself.  I honestly was starting to feel really nervous about how sad I felt inside.  I even made an appointment with my doctor.

Then, one night, my husband wouldn't let it go any longer.  He had taken me to the beach for a brief respite and I had ignored him the entire car trip home.  He said that we had to talk.  We were both upset, frustrated.  He asked me why I was pushing him away, why I was so unhappy whenever he was around, why I wouldn't talk, how he could help me.  I tried my best to explain how I was feeling.  We delved into major marital issues, like whether we would have married each other if we'd known what we know now, how we've changed since he started residency, how we really feel about each other, etc.  After a long exhaustive discussion, late into the night, it surprisingly ended well.  He expressed his love and support.  We talked about various ways I could avoid medication (for depression) and pull myself out of "the slump" I was in.

For weeks I had woken up with a heavy heart, no desire to get out of bed or do anything at all.  But after that night, after feeling my husband's unwavering support and love even despite my inability to function, I woke up feeling strengthened - not totally light and energetic like usual - but like I could make it through the day and that everything would be okay.  I was surprised by the strength I felt from knowing that my husband loved me.  Of course I knew this during the month and a half that I was feeling down, but after attempting to get through this difficult time without involving him, I know now that I cannot ever do that again.  I think it is perfect that we can choose people to spend our lives with and incrementally learn to love, forgive, support, and be kind to each other, even when it is extremely difficult.  Because, I think, if we can build a strong marriage relationship, the strength, the happiness, the goodness that fills our lives... all possibilities are endless... and wonderful.

the waiting place

I LOVE this quote.  It captures exactly how I picture myself sometimes during residency.

"The Lord’s way is not to sit at the side of the stream and wait for the water to pass before we cross. It is to come together, roll up our sleeves, go to work, and build a bridge or a boat to cross the waters of our challenges."  Dieter F. Uchtdorf, "Providing in the Lord's Way", Liahona and Ensign, November 2011.

This was in an email I received today from: http://www.lds.org/study/messages?lang=eng

It reminds me of "the waiting place" in "Oh the Places You'll Go!" by Dr. Seuss.  Every time I read that to my kids, I evaluate whether I am merely "waiting" for residency to be over... or whether I am actively working towards some thing, or a few things as it feels like most of the time.  I think this is Key to surviving these years well - not only for my own happiness, but for my husband's and my children's happiness as well.

using our energy to be envious

Every once in a while, I catch myself being jealous or envious of others.  It's unusual because I really do have a nice life, plus I am a pretty optimistic person... But, sometimes it happens when I want to sign my kids up for something that all of their friends are signed up for... or at the gym when I see a super cute gym outfit... or when a friend tells me about her annual trips to exotic, sunny, and warm places... okay, so I guess it happens.

But, not any more.  I need to conserve all the energy that I can - I found an article that points out some differences between being jealous and being envious, and explains new research on possible effects of envy: Envy May Bear Fruit, but It Also Has An Aftertaste.

Researchers found that envy "sharpens your eye and improves your memory" but also "depletes" ones ego and leads to mental fatigue.  The word envy "comes from the Latin "invidere," which means to look at with malice, or cast an "evil eye.""  Some researchers define envy in two ways, "benign envy" and "malicious envy."  Benign envy can be illustrated as "paying attention to superiors in order to emulate them, so as to raise your own standing."  Malicious envy, in comparison, is "paying attention to superiors to find weaknesses that will lower them toward your level."  One researcher said, "With benign envy, the eyes are probably wide open and eager... with malicious envy they are squinting and resentful."

Regardless of how 'envy' is defined, there are effects because "envy requires mental effort."

In another experiment, "after contemplating a wealthy, attractive peer, the students were asked to work on puzzles.  Compared with a control group, they gave up sooner."

Yes, it is energy that I need to conserve.  It is definitely not worth it.

I know - I'm a little late, but I need to write this

On Easter, while doing dishes after lunch, I listened to, Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing.  Here is a link to a sublime performance on utube.

The words are powerful.  They touched me so deeply on that Easter afternoon that I wept as I listened and cleaned the kitchen.

Prone to wander Lord I feel it.  

Prone to leave the God I love. 

Here's my heart, take and seal it  

Seat it for thy courts above.

Later that day, my in-laws had a discussion about Jesus Christ, stimulated at times by slips of paper with questions about our feelings for Him.  My eight-year old son read his question aloud:  "What would you give Jesus Christ if he were with you right now?"  He paused for a second, looked up at everyone in the room, and said, "Hmm, my heart."

I have pondered his response ever since.

So, my Easter was filled with not only a deep sense of gratitude for the resurrection made possible by Jesus Christ's resurrection, but also with a renewed sense of determination to give more of myself, my thoughts, my desires, my heart, to my Savior.

My knowledge that Jesus Christ lives, that the power of His Atonement is real, and that He loves me, is everything for me.  I would be nothing without it.

I can't believe Easter was last Sunday... it feels like it was weeks ago.  I hope everyone had a wonderful Easter like we did.

Spoons

I used to feel completely invincible, and totally capable. And I mean, Capable. I really honestly believed that I could do anything.

I don't feel that way any more. Is this what happens during the 30's?

This morning I was listening to a song from the movie, The Wedding Planner. The repeating words of the chorus somehow became stuck inside my brain, and the words started irritating me while I thought about them during the day.

"Each day is like a dream boat,
Go gently down the stream, oh,
Life is what you-oo-oo,
Make it, it's true-oo."
(Life is What You Make It, by Mishelle Bradford-Jones)

Now, I want to know, does this really ring true - for any-one?

If it is true, I should be relaxed right now, sitting on a warm beach. My kids are playing nearby in the sand.

I know, I know, it's all attitude. And I agree with that... partly.

I honestly don't know what has happened to me. I used to love the "challenge." I never thought about things before, or felt that something was too hard for me. Maybe I am being too introspective, too thoughtful. I honestly don't know what could have changed me.

There is a beautiful painting done called something like, Spoon Tricks, by the artist, Brian Kershisnik, (he is one of my absolute favorite artists). While in college, I recreated this painting with water colors as a gift to my mom for her birthday (per her request). As I remember the painting, there is a man balancing three spoons, teetering in a precarious display in one of his hands. His other hand rests on the shoulder of a woman. They are facing the same direction, not each other. He is standing behind her. She is also carefully balancing a display of spoons, but many more than the man. (This one is just a bit similar.)

I wasn't married at the time. I didn't have children at the time. I knew nothing about "real" life. And I could not stop thinking about the possible insights of that painting. I re-sketched it and then re-painted it over and over again until I felt okay about gifting it.

It became part of me.

Last month, I thought I was attempting to balance too many spoons, but now... I know there is much more, much deeper, that I need to sort out. Though I would like to sit on a warm beach and feel little daily stresses melt away and drain through the deep sand below my toes, this is life - and I am so lucky to be experiencing it.

The beach would get boring... right? Or, is this "just residency life"? Can someone just tell me that, please?

Wealth and Happiness

In a dream the other night I visited the home of an old neighborhood friend. His family was extremely wealthy. I have no idea why I was there. As I stood waiting in the entryway, I immediately noticed that the beautiful wooden dining table in the adjacent room was filthy. Impetuously, I walked towards it and proceeded to meticulously wipe away the dust and debris along the top of the table and hidden in the cracks along the edges; since I did not have a rag, I used the bottom portion of my shirt.

While dreaming, I remember feeling that I should not clean the table, but... I could not stop myself.

Suddenly, three of my friend's sisters came walking in, chattering away, each holding multiple fancy shopping bags in each hand. Everything slowed down. They appeared to be dancing, full of laughter, bubbles, excitement, and innocence. I smiled at them; I wondered if they remembered me. Then, it dawned on me that I was cleaning their table. I knew they would not recognize me. This was confirmed when one cordially half-smiled back. Suddenly I realized that I probably appeared envious of their wealth-derived happiness. I wondered if I should stop cleaning - I wanted to stop cleaning. I wanted to explain who I was and why I was there. But, I could not stop cleaning.

I felt torn: I knew I could not explain my behavior, but I wanted them to know that I was not envious of their wealth.

Many thoughts and feelings flooded my mind and heart, yet, I continued cleaning the table.

A short time later, I walked out of the house. My friend appeared. I said hello, and goodbye, and then I left. And then, somehow I knew, even while dreaming, that I was there not only to observe the wealth, the riches, and the apparent happiness, but also to examine my own feelings towards money. Now, as I dig down deep inside and try to remember that dream and the feelings I had, I cannot identify any residual feelings of desire, regret, envy, sadness, or frustration.

Every once in a while I wonder if we have lived meagerly for long enough that my materialism has been completely squelched - enough that I can easily find happiness without money. I hope that it has. But, then, I see something for my daughter, and I can feel inside a small ache because I want so much to buy it for her. Maybe I do still need more time to develop a healthy relationship with money. I need to realize that my kids also don't need "things" to be happy.

Hopefully it won't take me too long to learn that one - we only have two and a half more years of residency left...

the Doctor and the non-compliant Wife

The other day, my husband bought two emergency flashlights and told me exactly where he had hidden them. He called the other night during a wind storm to make sure we had power and asked if I had one of the flashlights on hand. I had no idea where he could have put them.

Last Saturday my husband went out and bought chains for his car because a snow storm was predicted for the following Monday. On Monday night I realized I would be stuck at home for days and wondered why my husband hadn't told me to prepare also - by stocking up on groceries and library books. He said, "I told you, but you never listen to me." I had zero recollection of the conversation.

You get the point. And, this happens daily.

Before, when conversations like these occurred, I was always able to remember our conversations and explain my rationalization in choosing not to follow through with his instructions. BUT, lately, it seems that I not only do not follow his orders, but I also have absolutely no recall of him giving the orders.

As I have delved deep into why this may be happening, I think I have come up with two explanations. These explanations have given me huge insights into my children's personalities and why my current parenting style is completely dysfunctional.

The first explanation is: I don't respond well to people giving me orders.

I know, it sounds funny, but I really think it's true. If I feel overwhelmed by orders or requests, I start to tune them out - apparently very successfully. (This explains a ton about my 8-year old.) Maybe my siblings or parents will correct me on this one, but this could be a hereditary trait. My dad is infamous for this trait. My dad and I (plus more in the family) seem to be designed not take orders. We don't like to take advice from other people. We like to learn the hard way, to not only reinvent the wheel but reinvent the wheel better. While it might have its disadvantages, I think it is a wonderful trait to have.

The second explanation is: my husband is a doctor; he gives orders all day long.

The unlikely compliment of these two explanations finally dawned on me today, and it felt like an incredible epiphany for me: my husband is honing his skills to give orders, and I am honing my skills to avoid taking orders.

As I mentioned, the lessons I have learned from finding these explanations have been helpful in redirecting my parenting efforts, but as far as improving my marriage relationship, I'm at a stand still. This post will have to be continued later, as I'm currently unsure about what to do next.

It's Definitely a Sign

A clear, unmistakable, frightening sign that I need to get out more.

I was out with a group of girlfriends Friday night for dinner. One I know well, two I know pretty-well, and one I hardly know at all. I was maybe trying a little too hard to be fun and entertaining. Or maybe I was completely uncomfortable without four children hanging from both of my arms. Or maybe I just assumed that the same rules would fly as when I'm eating out at a restaurant with my husband.

While chatting and laughing, I double-dipped my pita bread in the mixture of olive oil and vinegar set out in the middle of the table. for. all. of. us. And, it wasn't just one, harmless, quick dip. The bread was OK but the dip was divine, so I was swirling it around, trying to soak up as much as I could.

Oh my.

I didn't realize it until a friend mentioned to me that she was turning her piece of bread around to avoid double-dipping. I was mortified. I looked at her like a deer in headlights. I told her I had been double-dipping the entire time. My face turned bright red and I started laughing. Another friend said she had noticed, but decided she wouldn't call me on it. Everyone laughed. I laughed so hard I cried, and could hardly breath. I couldn't believe what I had done. I was squished in a booth between two of the girls. Otherwise I would have made a mad dash for the door.

Ab-so-lute-ly mortified.

That hovering/flying and/or disappearing super power would have come in very handy - yet a-gain.

These were some of my "new friends" since moving here. So, if we suddenly move again, you'll know why: because I couldn't make any new friends. Geesh, I guess I assumed we were closer friends than we really were - like married or something.

But, I wouldn't blame them at all.

My husband said he may never take me to a restaurant again. I sensed he was even more mortified than I was, which is hard to imagine. But, honestly, I blame it on never going out to restaurants with anyone but him; I can't even recall the last time I went out to eat with friends. Maybe I should make it a point to get out more - with-out my husband and kids.

Fondue, anyone?

Choosing to be Happy, and Cat-less

I asked my daughter tonight if she wanted to have her personal prayer with me or by herself. We discussed praying out loud versus praying with our thoughts. She said, "But, how does Heavenly Father know what you are saying if you say it in your head?"

I said, "By the Holy Ghost, remember? Heavenly Father knows everything, even our thoughts."

"Oh no!" she said, "Sometimes I have evil thoughts. Sometimes I don't want to listen to you. Sometimes I want to be mean. I thought I only knew I was thinking those things!"

I told her that it was okay, everybody has bad thoughts, even me. She smiled and said, "Mom, did you have bad thoughts when you were a little girl like me?"

"Of course." I said.

She laughed.

I told her about a few of the times I disobeyed my mom when I was little - and the things I was thinking at the time. Her favorite story was about the piece of toast I left on our new piano bench while I practiced playing my pieces. It left a permanent and perfect toast-shaped stain on the beautiful wood. My mom questioned me and my siblings. I lied and said it wasn't me. She didn't know who to believe, so no one got in trouble for it. Only years later when I was in college did I confess.

My daughter seemed super content while listening to my stories.

I don't want my daughter to think I am perfect, or that she has to be perfect. We are innately hard enough on ourselves, without greater expectations than necessary. This is why I love the gospel so much. I want my daughter to know that we are works in progress, that she can find happiness in making mistakes, repenting, learning, having faith, becoming wiser and better, and moving forward with hope. And most of all I want her to know how much her Heavenly Father loves her - unconditionally.

I had a dream the other night about a cat. I was working desperately, trying to get rid of the cat. I tried everything I could, but the cat clung to me, scratching constantly. (This was more like a nightmare - I'm allergic to cats.) I was quite perplexed by the dream after I awoke. It was clear to me that something in my life was threatening my peace and comfort, my happiness; but what, I was unsure.

After the conversation with my daughter tonight, I thought again of the dream. I think the cat may represent just that: unhappiness. The question now becomes whether I will choose to be happy now, or if I will allow my happiness and faith to be encumbered by unnecessary doubt and stress. Will I allow the persistent scratching and uneasiness until in the end the triumphant, immovable clawing cat becomes a part of my being.

I don't think so. I'd rather just be happy.

Plus, I'd rather be able to teach my daughter how to be happy - by personal experience, of course. I want to have a story about how I survived these years with my husband in medical residency - a few good stories that will make her smile just like she did tonight.

(An important side note to the dream: my husband showed up and helped me get rid of the cat. Maybe another lesson for me is to allow my husband to help me choose happiness now, rather than try to do it all by myself - like usual - since I have trained myself to "do it all" because, let's be honest, he is usually at work.)

Traditions & Priorities

I'm tired. Physically and mentally. Tired of trying to keep up with perceived expectations. Tired of never having enough time to just think. Tired of trying to take everything in stride cheerfully. My tiredness has driven me to jumble my priorities together in a large pot of delicious but complex soup. Each priority is searching to be realigned and find its place in my life.

It has been surprising and interesting for me to observe. The problem is that I am not a complex person. I am very simple, easy-going, and very easy to please. But, I also like to be challenged, I like to procrastinate and then work like a crazy woman to meet a deadline. I actually enjoy being busy like that - most of the time. I like to do everything. I'm pretty typical: it's hard for me to say no. I think my personality is combined of very different traits that are difficult to reconcile. I love to have projects to work on - but, I also love to stay in my pj's all day.

Last week I blamed my current internal jumbling on being spread too thin: volunteering to write grants for my kids' elementary school; Halloween costumes and parties (I can hardly type the word without my eye twitching); researching an idea for a business; blogging daily; working in my church Primary presidency, twice subbing for the chorister (more twitching), preparing for our primary program; meeting new friends in a new neighborhood and school; throwing birthday parties; driving the kids to various activities; correcting homework for teachers or volunteering in their classrooms; etc...

Not to mention: laundry.

But, the more I think about it, the more I blame reading The Glass Castle, by Jeannette Walls.

The other day my husband asked what I want to do for my birthday this month. I told him I don't want to do anything normal (a nice dinner with cake, ice cream, presents, etc.). Shocked, he said, "Liz, are you depressed?" I laughed. "No, I'm just tired of feeling like I have to stick to traditions, especially ones that cost money. I want to do something, maybe take the kids hiking somewhere cool - that's what I want to do."

Tonight my husband asked if I would like to plan a special trip in December during his week off. His brother and his wife invited our family to join them for two days at a resort hotel with an indoor water slide (they have discount tickets). "No," I said, "We don't have to spend money to have fun together. We don't have to do exciting things just because others around us are. We can find happiness in so many other ways." My husband didn't seem to agree but declined the invitation anyway. He grumbled something about hating being poor, but I told him we need to appreciate what we have. Life is so simple right now; if we can keep a healthy perspective, I believe it can be quite enjoyable.

The examples from The Glass Castle are extremes, to put it lightly. Everything in the book is extreme, really. But, it rubbed off on me, probably more than my husband is appreciating yet. There are so many other ways to live, to experience life and joy, besides what I feel like we have filled our life with thus far.

I don't know if I would recommend this book to another person. There was a lot of language and some uncomfortable situations that at two different places made me put the book down and decide not to finish it. I am glad now that I did finish it. I feel like it has helped me to re-prioritize and consider new ways to live my life and look for happiness besides the most common way which seems to most often include materialistic means.

The Obvious Explanation

I LOVE this children's book. My kids never tire of it and we always laugh when we read it. My 3-year old carried it around with him all day. It is just a silly and cute book that teaches that baby teeth are supposed to fall out, among other unusual bodily tendencies.

I also love how the book reminds me that children really do think and reason through things differently - and how important it is for parents to explain things so that they can understand them. I often expect my kids to just get it because it is really so obvious. Rarely is this the case, however.

But really, I should understand this better than anyone and thus offer greater explanations to my children. This is because I am usually one of the few who just can't seem to see the obvious answer. I draw conclusions that are the exact opposite of the obvious ones. Sometimes this comes in handy - but it's pretty rare. Maybe if I were in law school it would be a useful trait. But, more than anything, right now it just gives me a greater ability to completely empathize with my children.

A Day of "Jackaroo"

I just finished reading Jackaroo, by Cynthia Voigt. Yes, just barely.

I was impressed by the description of Gwyn's mother, the ever-present sadness in her voice, her statement that 'death is easy for us, it is life that is hard' clearly revealing the non-existent joy in her life. I told myself early in the book that her unhappiness was most likely due to the fact that she busied herself too much in her daily duties and responsibilities. I felt sad for her as a mom.

As I thought this, I wondered also if I get caught up in the motions with each day's duties - just as Gwyn's mother does in the book. I thought about my day today: making breakfast; encouraging the kids to do their chores; vacuuming the house; searching for a soccer uniform; finding outfits for each of the kids and encouraging them to get dressed; making beds; picking up children's clothing carelessly flung on the floor; cleaning up breakfast; switching and starting loads of laundry; changing poopy diapers; breaking up fights; driving; going through loose school papers, corrected homework, newsletters from teachers, and artwork; putting things away; collecting money from other soccer moms to buy gifts for the team's volunteer coaches; chasing my 1-year old around; organizing mail, bills, receipts and updating the budget; folding laundry; making lunch; looking through cookbooks to plan the meals for the week; driving; getting gas in the mini van; circling inside a Super Wal-Mart, too far away to visit often, while trying to appease four kids, visit the restroom for each of them, and try not to forget to buy anything necessary and comparably inexpensive; giving various lectures on why it is good to love and be nice to your siblings; making dinner; etc., and all this amongst continuous cleaning, mediating senseless sibling rivalry, and counting ("to 1, 2, and 3").

I am wondering how happy I appeared to be from my children's perspective. I doubt I was smiling, and I'm sure I wasn't whistling a tune for the majority of the day.

Wouldn't it be nice, I thought, if a masked horseman rode up and gave me a purse full of money, or deep clean my entire house? Would I want to be relieved of my duties, if even just for a short while?

As I continued to read, I recognized how wonderful it is to have work to do, to be busy and productive, especially in the service of others. I felt secure and good inside as I thought of how much I love to work, even though I don't make and knead my own loaves of bread or have horses to curry and exercise. I think work is constructive and calming to our beings. I have been quite unmotivated lately, more possibly than ever before in my life. I am not sure why this is, but I hope that these reflections of Jackaroo will affect me - and maybe even boot me out into the cold falling rain. (Yes, it is raining here - a lot lately.) Reading the descriptions of Gwyn's responsibilities brings me to my knees in gratitude. I thought of while my husband and I did dishes together last night.

In general, I liked reading Jackaroo, but not so much that I would read it again. I felt as if something was missing as it concluded. I read it quickly, most of it today, and longed for a bit more depth to the characters and their relationships. I guess I would refer to it as 'super light reading' but it was enjoyable nonetheless.

Service, Strength & Love

I went on a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when I was 21-years old.  During those 18 months I learned intensely about the importance of family, service and love. The depth of understanding I gained during my mission changed my life forever.

Before my mission I never wanted to get married. The thought of having children never even entered my mind. I planned to live in South America as a physician, living in a simple grass hut in some small remote village near the Amazon River. I loved the movie Medicine Man. When I returned from my mission, my goals were completely changed: I wanted to find someone to marry, I wanted to have a nice family to spend my life with. I quickly fell in love and married the man that is now my husband. I was certain that he was everything I would ever need or want. (He actually seemed a bit too perfect, but I went ahead anyway.)

It has been almost ten years since we were married. I never realized in the beginning how the traits I had never even seen in him when we were courting would become the ones most important to me, and to our family. His ability to love, work, serve, and enjoy life surprises me over and over again. He seems to have an innate way of seeing the needs of others, and finding within himself a way to serve them. I think if our family learns to serve each other from his example, our family will be strong forever.

When describing the people of Ammon, Alma wrote: "...when the storm cometh they shall be gathered together in their place, that the storm cannot penetrate to them..." (Alma 26:6)

When I read this scripture this morning, I immediately thought about my family, my loved ones.

I turned back to how Alma described the covenant these people had made; he wrote: "... and this they did, vouching and covenanting with God, that rather than shed the blood of their brethren they would give up their own lives; and rather than take away from a brother they would give unto him; and rather than spend their days in idleness they would labor abundantly with their hands." (Alma 24:18)

The people of Ammon had promised to serve and love their brethren; this allowed them to be unified and strong.

Then, I thought of my husband.

My husband eclipses me when it comes to serving others. If we are ever arguing or upset at each other, he immediately starts to serve me, especially in small, simple ways. When we were first married, this enraged me. I finally confronted him about it, not sure about his intentions. He said, "When we serve other people, our love for them increases." I was speechless, but no longer irritated. I was only envious of his ability to be unselfish, convinced that his intentions really were pure.

Since then, I have matured - but only by a little bit. He still surpasses me in his capacity to stand back and see things from an unselfish perspective and realize that he can offer something of himself, even if it is only in a small way.

One time, about six months ago, I told my kids about a friend's husband who loved chocolate cake. His wife had made a delicious chocolate cake for the family but because he was working late, there was only one piece left when he got home. The wife found out that an elderly widow also loved chocolate cake, and asked her husband if he would mind taking the last piece of cake over to him. He consented. I was trying to teach my kids about sacrificing for others. I said to my kids, "Wasn't that nice of the husband?" My oldest, seven at the time, said to me, "Ya, because if that had been you, you wouldn't have given it away, you would have eaten it because you love chocolate cake!"

I almost cried. I really want to be a good example to my kids of service. But, in the end, I must concede, that it is my husband that will teach them to truly be unselfish to those around them, not me.

But, hopefully, I will also keep learning from him too. Isn't that one reason we marry the people we do - because we sense that they will make us change and become better?

Next time... balloons are It

I cannot believe how relieved I am that Halloween is over. Late last night I was so happy I could have danced and sang with joy if I had not been so exhausted.

There is always drama with Halloween costumes, with at least one child, and this year it happened with all three. Last Thursday night, we finally found three costumes that they were all happy with. I still had to dig madly through my tub of material scraps to add details to the ninja costumes and speed-curl my daughter's hair and apply make-up the morning of their school parties.

My kids are definitely affected by eating sugar. The proof is undeniable. Luckily, they each agreed readily to trade in their huge candy-filled bags to "the Halloween witch" for a toy, so they only ate whatever candy that they consumed while trick-or-treating at a trunk-or-treat on Saturday, and while passing out candy last night at their cousins' house.

The kindergarten Halloween party was Friday. I spent the majority of the week cutting, gluing, researching, and stressing about my decorations. (Thanks for all of the recommendations via the blog and e-mail!) I stayed up super late on Thursday night, polishing off a few more spiders and ribbons and decorated dishes and holders, fancying up more pumpkins with costume details, and worrying. For a brief moment though, with my glue gun in hand, I actually enjoyed feeling creatively powerful. I think it was the glue gun.

Friday morning, I stuffed my two young boys into the car along with the fancy, dressed-up pumpkins, spiders, balloons, ribbons, candy, stringers, etc. and zoomed to the school. There was no parking, anywhere. Apparently every other parent was also there for a Halloween party. I circled and circled and finally found a place in the farthest corner of the lot. Then came the discussions with my 3-year old over which shoes to wear, how much of his costume to wear, and whether I could use his pumpkin to decorate his sister's classroom party. And then came the problem of convincing my 1-year old (and 3-year old) to follow me while I carried a huge, heavy laundry basket to the door, along with large sacks in both hands through the parking lot and into the school. After that huge trek, full of encouragement and patience, we made it to the office. While I was signing in, they found a small toy in the office. We couldn't leave. I couldn't carry my 1-year old away from it with the huge load I was already carrying, and there was no way he was leaving the toy. More discussions. I finally had to carry one load a small distance, leave it on the floor, and then return for the other load. Back and forth. Back and forth. Until we finally reached the kindergarten classroom. The other parent that had offered to help me decorate at the last minute had already arrived. I asked him to bring balloons. He had bought a festive Halloween bunch of helium-filled balloons. They were gorgeous, already set out at the front of the entryway to the classroom. Parents were setting up stations for cookie decorating and craft activities. The room looked wonderful and was full of color. I left my huge load of paraphernalia on the floor by the door. The job was already done. Five or six parents stood in the back of the room, watching six or seven parents rush around organizing and preparing for the kids. My feelings were too complex to describe. I watched for a few minutes, gave my daughter a kiss when they came in for the party, took a deep breath, picked up my load and left. The long trek back through the school hallways, out the doors, through the parking lot, and the drive back home seemed much easier. My 1-year old actually followed me. I cheered myself up a bit as I decorated my own house. Then, I forgot about it.

Until later, when my daughter said, "Mom, why didn't you decorate my classroom with all that stuff you made all week?"

It's okay though. I learned a valuable lesson: next time, offer to bring balloons.

A Happy Birthday OR Good Health

I have decided that my children's birthday parties are bad for my health.

My daughter invited seven girls and one boy to her party today. She wanted to have a princess and queen party; it morphed into a pirate and pirate princess party. Mistake #1. My daughter has always loved treasure hunts. I honestly laughed to myself and thought: This will be easy! 

Sounding familiar? No wonder my husband is always telling me I'm "totally unrealistic." I used to argue vehemently and claim to be an optimist, but now I'm beginning to agree with him.

I practiced making a pirate ship birthday cake yesterday. Mistake #2. A friend had given me some helpful tips. I found examples on the Internet. I really thought I could do it. I spent a lot of time on it. It was totally lop-sided with frosting mixed in with cake almost everywhere. When no one was looking, half of it tipped over. I felt totally defeated. It looked awful. I let my kids stick in the toothpicks taped with orange flags with skulls and crossbones printed in black. My husband complimented it. Maybe he was so exhausted he was seeing double, or had forgotten what it was I was trying to build. Maybe he had given up offering constructive criticism to my attempts at creative projects. Or maybe the little flags really made a difference. Either way it didn't bolster my confidence or decrease my stress level. I made cupcakes today instead.

I decided I could save money and make my own treasure chest pinata. Mistake #3. It became a hugely stressful project as my daughter reminded me that "it has to look just like a treasure chest." Because it was so stressful, I left it for the last possible moment. I filled a US post office box with tons of fun little toys and candy. It was too heavy. I wrapped it with light brown paper. Carefully. And then realized I had forgotten to secure it with a string. Time was up. I had to cut it open. I laced the string through quickly. I taped it back up like a mad woman. I had to hide it quickly. After a treasure hunt with clues and spyglasses they found the treasure chest, but none recognized it as one. Then, I tried to string it up. The string broke. I casually tossed the contents onto the floor. They didn't seem to mind. I was devastated due to the huge amount of stress I had wasted on it.

I thought it would be fun for the kids to paint. Mistake #4. No explanation necessary.

I thought it would be simple and enjoyable for the kids to make bead necklaces. Mistake #5. Again, no explanation necessary.

A friend recommended we play "walk the plank." Mistake #6. I moved our sturdy art table alongside the back of the couch, leading up to a huge love sac (big cushion) on the floor at one end. When I showed another friend the idea and asked how long she thought it would keep the kids busy, she said, "Oh, I think they'll play that until you tell them to stop." She was right. There were four kids that refused to leave the "walk the plank" game, and any time there was even the briefest lull in activities, all ten kids rushed into our family room to walk the plank - or rather, run and twist/flip/launch off the plank. To avoid getting into additional gory and embarrassing details, suffice it to say that there was not enough adult supervision in the room with this game - which lasted the duration of the party.

All I know is that I cannot do this again. I feel like I've aged an extra ten years while planning and executing these latest two birthdays. Next year I am going to start saving early so that I can pay a large corporation to take care of their birthdays - the YMCA, a gymnastics business, a bounce house, even Chuck-e-cheese, ANY-thing will do. Actually, I think I'll start saving tomorrow.

Visitors During Residency

My mom and dad visited us this weekend.

Last year during our husbands' intern years - for the first time living far from our families - a friend told me: "Sometimes I wonder if the pain of saying goodbye to family after they visit is actually worse than them not visiting at all." I somewhat agreed at the time. My mom had spent two days helping pack our home, driven across two states with me when we moved for intern year, and had stayed for a day to help me unpack in our new home. I was eight and a half months pregnant. I cried and cried when I dropped her off at the airport. I could not believe the feeling of despair and emptiness as she waved goodbye and walked through the airport doors.

It was painful, again, to say goodbye to both my mom and dad yesterday at the airport. But, I would never trade this weekend with them for anything.

Upon arrival, my mom commented on how clean my house was and how I should not clean so much - she and my dad are the best guests ever. They oo'ed and awe'ed over our new home during my 3-year old son's tour, and his subsequent demonstration of riding his bicycle around in circles inside our garage. We took a short road trip to visit other family. We talked and talked. My kids jumped on our trampoline, showing off their tricks - with their grandpa.

We ate ridiculously delicious (fresh) salmon sandwiches and perfect fruit from a farmer's market for lunch. We talked and looked out across the water and enjoyed the sunshine. My daughter fell asleep on the couch, cuddled up close to her grandma. My parents went lake kayaking for the first time while my kids yelled helpful tips to them from the shore.

We laughed. My parents talked intently with my daughter about her friends, her kindergarten experience, her artwork, and her love for pink. Our family celebrated together with relatives and friends while my 8-year old son was baptized and confirmed. My kids cuddled up to their grandpa while he read them library books before bed each night. My dad woke up each morning with little bodies climbing and jumping around his head. My 3-year old disappeared for the weekend while attaching himself permanently to either his grandma's or grandpa's hands and attentions. My parents insisted on taking us on a shopping spree to Costco. (We should have lined up the kids, with one shopping cart each.) My 1-year old played an endless game of 'chase' with his grandpa. We squished into our minivan and went driving around looking at real estate on the water. My parents cheered on my 8-year old while he played in a soccer game, and later, meticulously built Lego creations. Late one night, my kids taught my exhausted parents how to play mario cart on the Wii.

My parents love to laugh, they are easy-going and kind. They constantly look for ways to encourage and improve the lives of those around them. My kids learned about their grandma and grandpa, they learned how much their grandparents love them, and their love for my parents was strengthened. My 8-year old hid one of their suitcases while they were preparing to leave for the airport. No one wanted them to leave. We stayed up late - too late - talking about life, parenting, current stresses - theirs and mine, future plans, loved ones struggling, past memories, and the little, important secrets to happiness. Twice, I laughed with my mom, so hard that I cried.

Yes, it is hard to say goodbye. I love to be with my mom and dad. I miss my brother and sisters and their families terribly. It is hard for me to live so far from them. But, I'll take that tearful goodbye at the airport any day - if I can have another weekend - just like this one.

Swimming, Praying, & Patience

PATIENCE

My parents signed me up for the swim team when I was eight years old. My dad told me that swim team would teach me endurance. As I grew older, I excelled in the 50-yard and 100-yard freestyle events. In other words, I was a sprinter. This may tell you a little bit about my personality: I don’t mind things that are challenging, but I like to get them done and out of the way quickly. Or, in the words of President Uchtdorf, I “don’t like to wait.”

When I told my husband that I was asked to speak on patience today, he smiled and said, “How fitting.” But, then, with a worried look, he quickly added: “Because you are married to the most impatient person in the world.” Unfortunately, he had realized too quickly that anything he said could possibly become “quotable material” for this talk. 

But, in all honesty, my husband was right, I am not a very patient person. In fact, I feel very humbled and unworthy to even attempt to share my thoughts with each of you on President Uchtdorf’s conference talk titled: ‘Continuing In Patience.’  However, as often happens, I feel this topic was divinely assigned to me at a time in my life when I most needed its counsel. President Uchtdorf taught, “Patience is a purifying process that refines understanding, deepens happiness, focuses action, and offers hope for peace.”

As a sophomore on the swim team, I competed in the longest race of my life. A new swim coach put me in a new event to see how I would do: the 500-yard freestyle. I was accustomed to swimming two or four lengths of the swimming pool, but the 500-yard freestyle is 20 lengths of the pool. I was a little nervous as I stood up on the diving block, but self-confident and naïve enough. The gun went off and I dove in, already kicking. I swam and swam, and within only a few seconds, I noticed that I was way ahead of everyone around me. I was already a bit cocky, but beamed inside as I continued swimming hard. Of course, I, the impatient sprinter, was swimming much faster than everyone else. The other swimmers were familiar with the importance of finding a slower pace that they could hold firmly for the length of the race. I was not. 

After swimming only five lengths of the pool, I knew that I was in trouble. I still had 15 lengths of the pool left to swim. I had started out swimming too fast and had used up too much of my energy. At this point, I actually began to feel scared, but I kept on swimming. President Uchtdorf taught, “Patience is not passive resignation, nor is it failing to act because of our fears.” I continued to stroke my arms, though my energy was spent. 

It was incredibly difficult. Each stroke, each breath, completing each length of the pool seemed to take forever. President Uchtdorf taught, “Patience require(s) actively working toward worthwhile goals and not getting discouraged when results d(o)n’t appear instantly or without effort.” At the time, I knew that I needed to focus my strength and swim harder than I ever had - in order to finish the race. I knew the race would last about 20 minutes more, and without patience and “steady and consistent work” and actively engaging myself toward my goal, I would not be able to finish the race. President Uchtdorf taught, “Patience is not simply enduring; it is enduring well!” I began to re-focus my efforts in order to use my energy more efficiently and wisely. Having patience allowed me to focus my strength, my strokes, and my actions. I thought this would be enough to get me to the end of the race, but it wasn’t.

Quickly, my body became almost completely exhausted. My muscles ached and my legs and arms felt weak. But, more than anything else, I desperately needed more air. The pain in my lungs was excruciating. I gasped and gulped with each turn of my head, desperate for more oxygen. I thought: people must see my struggling, why don’t they do something? But I knew that it was only me that could decide whether or not I would finish the race; no one was forcing me to finish. President Uchtdorf taught, “Patience means accepting that which cannot be changed and facing it with courage, grace, and faith.” Often we cannot change the trials we are in, but we can control how we react to them. I must admit that I did not feel graceful as I swam, but I was not willing to give up. 

The feeling of absolute despair hit me after only 10 lengths of the pool. I could see people when I turned my head to the side for air, but I felt totally alone. I wondered if I would drown, with all the people around me, watching. I knew people were cheering for me; but I knew they could not swim for me, or remove me from the situation that I was in. All I could do was continue swimming, and wait. President Uchtdorf said, “Patience means to abide in faith, knowing that sometimes it is in the waiting rather than in the receiving that we grow the most.” 

The desperation that filled my soul led me, or rather, drove me to prayer. I pled with Heavenly Father that He would not let me drown, that He would help me to finish the race. President Uchtdorf taught, “Knowledge and understanding come at the price of patience.” Because I do not wait “well,” when I am humbled through trials, I find that I lean closer to Heavenly Father when I am required to have patience, particularly when I cannot possibly imagine why things are not working out as I’ve planned. Of course, I really wanted Heavenly Father to remove me from the mess I was in, or at the least, to take away my pain and exhaustion; but, as President Uchtdorf taught, it is the process of patience that is important, and “Heavenly Father (always) ha(s) a purpose in requiring that His children wait.” However, patience alone cannot bring about the desirable and necessary results; we must also have faith. It was not enough for me to continue swimming and praying for help. I had to actually have faith that Heavenly Father would hear my prayer and answer it.

President Uchtdorf taught, “Patience…means delaying immediate gratification for future blessings.” I knew that I could stand up, or stop at one of the walls, and walk away from the race at any time. But, then I would not finish the race. I knew that my younger sister and cousin, also swimmers on the team, would be there, waiting for me, ready to pull me out and celebrate my finish. I didn’t want to give up; I couldn’t, despite the pain and desperation. President Uchtdorf taught, “in your patience you win mastery of your souls.” I knew I wanted to finish, and felt renewed strength as I prayed for help. And although the exhaustion in my muscles and the burning in my lungs persisted, my understanding had been refined; my body was able to continue swimming; I had witnessed an answer to my prayer, my faith had been strengthened, and I felt hope, rather than desperation. President Uchtdorf said, “the work of patience boils down to this: keep the commandments; trust in God, our Heavenly Father, serve Him with meekness and Christlike love; exercise faith and hope in the Savior; and never give up.” 

I did end up finishing the race that day, though not with first place as I had planned at the beginning. My happiness in finishing the race was as great as my relief, but it was deepened because of the process of learning patience that I had experienced. And truly, the finish of the race made the entire experience that much more worth it.  My sister and cousin were there at the wall, reaching for my hand. I remember my sister’s smile and her words: “Liz, you are amazing! You did it!” I gave her my hand, but had no strength to push myself up as she pulled. She quickly grabbed both of my hands within hers, and, with the help of my cousin, literally dragged me out of the pool. My sister hugged me and said, “I knew you could do it!” She then listened patiently as I described through my tears all that had happened during the race.

In preparation for this talk, I asked a few friends: “What tries your patience – the most?” The answers included things like: “kids whining,” “having to repeat myself”, “kids fighting”, “the bed time routine”, and “people who drive under the speed limit.“ President Uchtdorf taught that “persuasion, long-suffering, gentleness, meekness, and love…are the foundation of godly patience.” When I first read this quote and thought of my friends’ responses, I wondered if President Uchtdorf had forgotten how frustrating and difficult it is to have patience with children who are fighting, disobeying, and ignoring important requests. But, he also taught, “As the Lord is patient with us, let us be patient with those we serve. Understand that they, like us, are imperfect. They, like us, make mistakes. They, like us, want others to give them the benefit of the doubt.” Often it is most challenging to have patience with those that are closest to us, those we love the most. Patience truly does refine our understanding of the plan of salvation, the purpose of life, family, sacrifice, and love. 

Ironically, as a very impatient parent, I am constantly looking for opportunities to help my children learn to wait, and encourage them to be patient. A few days ago, my oldest son celebrated his birthday. He received some money and gift certificates to Target. He has been wanting one very large and expensive Lego set for a while, so I explained to him that if he waited, continued working, earning and saving more money, he would be able to afford to buy it. He was elated. But, then he insisted on going to Target - so that he could just “buy a little toy.” We further discussed his goal of the big Lego set, but he still wanted to just get something little right away. We went to the store and he spent time looking around. And then, he looked at me and said, “I think I’ll wait.” I was proud of him, but my happiness was nothing compared to the visible joy I could see in his eyes. I knew that he was feeling the happiness that stems from self-control and patience, the willingness to work for something that he really wants, and the choice to “delay immediate gratification for future blessings.”

In an attempt to have greater patience, I have found three activities that have helped me to do so: first, to be grateful; second, to trust in the Lord; and third, to pray and then to listen. 

During the past month, I have attempted to find a way to provide supplemental income for our family, without leaving the home. I have spent hours brainstorming and researching opportunities, praying and asking for guidance, but nothing has felt quite right, and nothing has worked out. This has been extremely frustrating for me. In my patriarchal blessing it states: “There will be times that you won’t understand why the answer that you’re expecting is not there, but all things will be for your good. You must have faith.” Initially, I worked hard at focusing my actions and trying to “fix the problem” myself. My frustrations became all-consuming until I realized that I was neglecting to recognize all of the blessings that we already had. I had narrowed my view to be able to see only what I needed, and was ignoring the huge wealth of all that we had. After I chose to be grateful, my ability to be patient during this trial greatly increased. 

Although I felt that I was exercising faith during this trial, it must have been merely a superficial faith because inside I felt only despair. It wasn’t until I put all of my trust in Heavenly Father and His purpose in having me wait, that my patience provided “hope for peace.” The problem had not been solved, nothing had changed, only my inner despair and frustration had been replaced with peace. I felt changed, and I was. President Eyring said about this life: “The Lord doesn’t put us through this test to give us a grade, he does it because the process will change us.” As I began to trust Heavenly Father, I was able to face my trial with grace and faith, and then my ability to wait patiently increased.

In addition to having gratitude and trusting Heavenly Father, I discovered that listening is an important aspect of learning patience. As a parent, if I explain something to my children when they have to wait, they are much more likely to be able to wait with patience. They are more able to trust me. I learned during this trial that I have to look for opportunities and allow time to listen to Heavenly Father “explain things” to me. I found that this happened during moments that I sought for experiences with my Savior, with His Spirit: most often while pondering after my prayers and during my personal scripture study. I immediately noticed that my ability to wait increased as these experiences did, almost exponentially. 

President Uchtdorf said, “The lessons we learn from patience will cultivate our character, lift our lives, and heighten our happiness.” I have felt inspired and strengthened from all I have learned this past month about the purpose of waiting, the process of learning patience, and things I can do to be more patient. In The Book of Mormon, the prophet historian Mormon recorded: “Nevertheless, the Lord seeth fit to chasten his people; yea, he trieth their patience and their faith. Nevertheless--whosoever putteth his trust in him the same shall be lifted up at the last day.” (Mosiah 23:21-22) I know this is true. As I put my trust in Heavenly Father, in His love, His knowledge, His power, I can be lifted and able to endure my trials with patience, faith, understanding, love, hope, and even happiness.

I am grateful for the atonement of Jesus Christ. I feel as Alma did when he expressed: “Who can say too much of (Christ’s) great power, and of his mercy, and of his long-suffering towards the children of men? Behold, I say unto you, I cannot say the smallest part which I feel.” (Alma 26:16) 

I know that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ live. I know that They love us. I pray that we can all have patience with those around us, especially those that we love. I pray that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ will continue to have patience with me.  - Talk given in Church, October 10, 2010

Talk Until She Insists that She Has To Go

I feel sorry for the few people that I talked with on the phone today. I am absolutely sure they wondered if I would ever stop talking. 

A friend called me - just to talk - she said. I doubt she realized I would interpret that as an invitation to talk for over an hour. I'm sure she wasn't aware of how many words I have to get out daily, and how challenging that is for a stay-at-home mom. On the days that I don't get all of my words out, my husband ends up listening to them - whether he is awake, totally distracted or peacefully sleeping. Since moving for residency, it has been difficult for me to get enough of my words out every day.

I really like to talk. 

Today, one of my little boys is fighting a cold, so I was aware this morning before her call, if not subconsciously, that the prospect of being with another adult was slim. I didn't admit to myself that I would have little opportunity to get my words out - if I didn't get them out with her, but somehow I must have sensed it. 

Finally, my friend said, "Well, I really need to go,... and pay some attention to my dog."

I got the hint. My time was up.
  

My sister just forwarded an e-mail about a lecturer from a night class at Stanford. He explained that one of the most important things a woman can do for her health is to nurture her relationships with her girlfriends. "Girlfriend time helps women create more serotonin - a neurotransmitter that helps combat depression and can create a general feeling of well being." Apparently, according to this (possibly bogus) source, "spending time with a friend is just as important to our general health as jogging or working out at a gym. "

Wow, it just sounds too good to be true.

No wonder so many women used to live to be so old - even before all of the advances in medical technology and research. They lived with their mothers or mother-in-laws or sisters. That would be heaven for me - to live with my sisters or my mom. I could talk all day and they would never be able to escape. 

I'm sure my friend would appreciate it also, along with another friend, and my sister, who I also kept on the phone for a long time today. And I know my husband would appreciate the extra sleep without my incessant chattering in the background.

Addicted to FB?

The attraction of Facebook has become very clear to me during the last ten days of my life.

And, yes, it is dangerous.

Part of the problem is that I have always loved parties. Even now, I love to attend social gatherings, and for some reason, (I think it is hereditary, from my dad), I have to talk in depth with every. single. person. there.

This is usually exhausting, but my genes drive me onward. I rarely get to eat much at parties because I am too busy talking. Sometimes, I just stand by the food table, holding my plate idly, just because I am able to corner and talk with so many people that way. (It's all about strategy.)

The other part of the problem is that my husband is also a social butterfly. He loves to meet people and is truly interested in knowing about them. He prefers to host parties, but with his current residency schedule he rarely gets to. Instead, he, I think subconsciously but nevertheless consistently, finds ways to avoid leaving social gatherings before the very last person has left.

Together, we are a disaster.

I like to talk to everyone at the party, and my husband likes to be the very last person to leave. We can't go to parties, unless we know we can stay for hours. (This is challenging with the cost of a babysitter for four children in a big city.)

Enter: Facebook.

Facebook is like a party that never ends! It is seriously one of the most addictive things I have discovered in years. I have actually had a Facebook account for years, but only logged in every year or so to confirm friends, and nothing more. I never read any of the posts or realized the social opportunities it could afford a wife of a doctor, caring for four young children at home, cleaning and cooking endlessly, and often moving and leaving friends behind.

Can I just say, woa.

The reason I started getting more involved with my Facebook account was due to a comment from my husband. He said, "Liz, I think I have more friends than you on Facebook." That's all it took. For six days, both of us spent every spare moment on Facebook searching for family members and friends. I even invited old boyfriends to "be friends" with me, regardless of whether things had ended badly between us.

Pitiful? Yes.

My husband started inviting his entire medical school class and every medical resident he had worked with during his intern year. Was I deterred? No way. I kept brainstorming. Plus, I was having the time of my life connecting with friends and family. I absolutely loved it. I could even control the convenience factor of the human interactions throughout each day. I felt my life had changed, although I recognized that I would eventually need to find a balance or I could be swallowed entirely.

Suddenly, an unexpected and wonderful new project fell into my lap. The party was abruptly over: I had something new to work on during my free time, and at night. Facebook fell by the wayside. It had entered with such force; I was not even comfortable with the strong pull I felt from it. But now, looking back, I am surprised at how quickly I was able to suddenly ignore that pull, that daily human interaction, and shift my focus and energy to something else.

My view of Facebook and my understanding of its attention and praise is now evident. And I'm sure I will try to log in and visit with people - once in a while. Now my husband has so many more friends than I do, I'll never catch up to him. But, I'm okay with it. Really. Because the reason I will be at the party is to talk and catch up with everyone there, and not for anything else. And that is going to take me a very long time, hopefully, because I love projects almost more than I love people - sometimes.)

Turning 30 and Loving It

The other day I talked with one of my closest friends on her 30th birthday. She asked me if I liked turning 30.

I loved it.

She didn't believe me, so I stumbled to explain. Later, as I privately delved deeply inside, it all started to make sense.

A few months before my 30th birthday, my mom mentioned that she thought her 30's were the best. She talked about how much she loved having children, how much it changed her, and how much new confidence and happiness she felt she had.

As my birthday approached, honestly, I think I thought my life would change a lot -which it actually did.

While engaged, my (now) husband notified me that I should no longer wear "rambo" watches, (like this one). I laughed, and took it off. He bought me a cute, dainty, skinny, not water-proof, classy watch. I wore it, although I didn't like it at all, and sadly tucked my rambo watch in the back of a drawer.

The symbolism of this act was enormous for me. I had spent six years completely focused on and devoted to my husband. He was amazing, and I was so in love. I was determined to be, well, the perfect wife for him. Don't get me wrong, my husband was wonderful, loving, supportive, etc., but I was totally engrossed in becoming what I perceived he wanted me to become: the perfect doctor's wife. Very slowly, I was becoming someone that I hardly recognized. Was I happy? Yes. But, there was always a nagging, though completely suppressed, feeling that I became very good at ignoring. But, somehow, right as I turned 30, I made a very small decision: to find my rambo watch and wear it. This decision symbolized my allowing that feeling to surface. My husband immediately noticed, and assured me that the rambo watch did not look good. I laughed. But this time, I kept it on. I told him that it was me, it was important to me because I liked it, and I needed him to "give me space and let me fly."

This phrase was from Sister Marjorie Hinckley. It is in President Hinckley's biography, and was also repeated during an interview with her and President Hinckley in their home years ago. The interviewer asked President Hinckley how he avoided what some husbands do: "compel their wives to fit the standards of what they think to be the ideal." Sister Hinckley said, "From the very beginning he gave me space and let me fly... He has made me feel like a real person. He has encouraged me to do whatever makes me happy. He doesn't try to rule or dominate me." President Hinckley said, "Let her fly. Yes, let her fly!" I pulled this article out of the Ensign and kept it folded as a bookmark for years. It became important to me right around this time. I had never felt in our marriage that my husband was trying to fit me into a box of standards and ideals, but I was trying hard to climb in myself. He gave me space to let me fly, but I held back. I didn't have the courage.

But, yes, at age 30, somehow the courage came.

Little by little, I started bringing out my rambo watches - metaphorically speaking. It was a little bit rocky at first, which was totally expected. I'm sure my husband had no idea what was going on - or why. I didn't even understand it at the time. Eventually I even started a masters degree program, even though we already had two small children and I was expecting another, and my husband was in his second year of medical school. I had a lot of energy and new courage, and I felt like I could do anything. Luckily, I married a man who just let me go, supporting my new ideas and activities, and "let me fly."

I hope my friend has a wonderful experience turning 30. And apparently, it just keeps getting better. When I reminded my mom of our conversation, she said, "Oh, but my 40's were even better than my 30's!"