Another weekend of running...and why am I still up?

Why do we wear ourselves out in the service of our God? Ok, other than the obvious, "because we are suppose to"? Because we love Him? Yep, check. Because we love the people we are serving? Yep, check. Because we are suppose to? Yep, check. Sigh... I'm ok with the first two. But I'm really tired of the "suppose to" one. Because when I fallback to that, I get a little bitter about what I am doing, and really, I'm motivated by the other two just as much, but there is still a part of me that...yes, you can see I'm conflicted by this.

I am constantly amazed at the amount of service that is provided by the ladies (and men) and church. And they do it with a smile and with love. And they keep on giving and giving. Of their time, their talents and their resources. Never stopping. It is amazing. Literally, I spent more time at church this weekend than I did at home--and I watched these people serve and serve and serve. They were in the temple, at the Stake Center, at church today teaching classes. I got to do simply celestial things thanks to the efforts of others.

Me? I'm pregnant. I find that I am short on patience and energy. I do what I can, but wish it were more and better, but then I realize, I need a nap! I know that as the Mom I do my thing there, but wow, we sure do have a lot that is expected of us. And we expect a lot more from ourselves perhaps than we should. I'm going to post Mosiah 4:27 on my wall and I suggest all you pregos out there do the same (or new moms, old moms, aunts, uncles, grandmas and overachieving Mormons, you KNOW who you are).

And see that all these things are done in wisdom and order; for it is not requisite that a man should run faster than he has strength. And again, it is expedient that he should be diligent, that thereby he might win the prize; therefore, all things must be done in order.

I'm going to try for some wisdom and order. Or order and wisdom. Whichever comes first.

I'm a Martha.

So another Sunday, another set of really cool lessons to think about. As we were sitting in Sacrament meeting, I was really aware of this thought: "I'm a Martha." (See Luke 10:39-42) I don't know why--we had great talks about other topics, but this one came. Maybe because I had to leave with children 2 times because I hadn't brought my own wipes. Maybe because I really wanted to be the Mary, but sometimes, we just have to be Martha?

You know Martha, right?:

38 ¶ Now it came to pass, as they went, that he entered into a certain village: and a certain woman named Martha received him into her house.
39 And she had a sister called Mary, which also sat at Jesus’ feet, and heard his word.
40 But Martha was cumbered about much serving, and came to him, and said, Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone? bid her therefore that she help me.
41 And Jesus answered and said unto her, Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things:
42 But one thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her.

Martha: Bad. Mary: Good. Martha: NECESSARY! Right? I'm a Martha. Maybe we should start a group. "Hello, I'm Alaska and I am a Martha." I am very good at getting the work of life, the church, the Mom and whatever committee I happen to be on at the time, done. I know how to plan and do. However, there are times where I think I miss the glory of the moment, the spiritual insight or maybe even the joy of something because I am "cumbered about." (Luke 10:40) And can I tell you I HATE that about me. I really struggle with this story because I know so well, that I do miss "that good part" I know that the things that last forever require quiet, pondering and listening. Like small children who need "one more story, Mom." Or sweet sisters with a life story to share. Or a husband that needs a hug and encouragement. And sometimes, I am a great Mary and do that too. But lots of time, I am the Martha.

So today we had a fab lesson on loving God--now, lest ye start snoring--let me tell you Sister Majeroni's lessons are NEVER snore-worthy and pay attention--the Martha connection will become clear. Today she led a spirited and fun discussion on what we are suppose to be doing in the love department: loving God and loving our neighbors as well as how to accomplish that. I loved her hand-out that had a chocolate heart in the center of a circle that reminded us to center ourselves on love: "Love is the great commandment. Make it the center of all you do." I love that (ok, way too many uses of the word love in that paragraph...) I love that because I believe that Jesus Christ is the center of all we do and He is Love.

I really appreciated (see: not just loved) the advice that others gave about how we show our love to God. Rachel Nielson (one of my s-heroes) spoke about a talk Elder Wirthlin gave where he said that when we love someone we want to spend time with them--do we want to spend time with God? Do I spend time with God? Hmmm....the Martha in me was rumbling. I bake cake and cookies and casseroles and salad for God (yes, I feed his sheep well.) I go to church to learn about God. I get on my knees and talk to God--oh, good, that is spending time with God, right? I suppose it is if my prayers are getting out of the room because they heartfelt and real. Sometimes, not so much.

As I think about these, I realize that my Martha tendencies do keep me from being with God sometimes. I could pray a little more and Facebook a little less...scripture read and meditate rather than nap... However, if we are making love the center of all that we do, we are actually taking part in that better part--if we do it in the right spirit. As I lovingly prepare a meal for my family, lovingly seeking to make it an enjoyable and nutritious experience, I am communing with God. And I can do better, even as I am Martha-ing away at it by inviting the Spirit to attend me. I need to invite Him to be with me. To help me. To guide my hands and heart. (Especially when the kids HATE the nutritious meal I made and tell me so...)

My husband is a truly God-fearing man--and he tells me frequently that he tries to find God in ALL that he does--even the laundry and the dishes. And I know he does. Hmmm...how very Mary in a Martha-way. This is something we Marthas need to take to heart. God is with us when seek Him and invite His Spirit. So, we need to ask him if the soup needs more salt, the table some flowers, or maybe if Child Number 1 might need to have a little extra tlc during dinner. We need to ask if the next visiting teaching appointment can wait a few minutes so the sister I am currently visiting can tell just one more story. Or maybe if the dishes really need to be done right now, if my baby needs one more snuggle and a family prayer.

In our "cumbering about" I also need to ask: Should I cumber, or sit and listen? And when I receive a "sit and listen," I need to SIT and LISTEN. However, maybe it is okay, and I need to finish the soup and then sit...

So, my cute handout from Sister Majeroni is on my bulletin board (minus the chocolate of course, I'm a Martha, not crazy.) I'm going to be a Mary a bit this week, I hope: I going to choose the better part more often. But when I'm Martha-ing, I'm gonna do it with love. And I'm going to invite God into my daily existence and humdrum chores even more. Because I do love Him--and I want to spend more time with someone who gave me so much and loves me with such abundance. Maybe then my Martha will be a Mary who multi-tasks. How about you?

New Year...new goals?

So, I didn't end 2009 well with my goal of having at least one posting a month--I missed December. I should probably have written in November and posted it in December because I knew I was going to be too busy. But I didn't. Such is my life. However, I am going to do better this year! January = new post. See, I'm so good.

January has been filled with angst and quite a bit of well, vomit. Can I tell you how much I was not prepared for the volume of bodily fluids that accompanied being a mom? Really. No one tells you how much vomit comes out of a 40 pound child when the stomach flu is upon them. I suppose if they told me, I would NOT have signed up for the job. I just really don't like to deal with it. It is bad enough if it is coming from me...which it has been. Oh yeah, the other part they don't tell you about parenthood: YOU have to vomit for a while before you get the bundle of joy. Yep, I'm in the middle of that early period of pregnancy where vomit happens. No, not just in the morning. I have morning sickness, I just-ate-something sickness, I need-to-eat-something sickness, twlight sickness and go-to-bed-NOW sickness. Pretty much the whole day...so, I'm a joy to behold these days.

My kids have been pretty good about it. They think it is hilarious that I can't eat potatoes--yep that food taboo is back in spades. Orion has taken to "reading" the labels (he looks for p's and asks if that is the word "potato") to make sure there are NO potatoes in whatever I'm eating. Xavier thinks it is hilarious to offer me food he knows has potatoes in it. I may just vomit on him. Bella just keeps asking if it is August yet. Or rather, if it is Daddy's birthday yet, because the baby's birthday is after his August birthday.

As far as edible foods go, I'm into pears, apple juice and bagels with cream cheese. Blueberries seem to be really exciting--I like blueberry poptarts, mini-pies (thank you Evil Walmart Empire for yet another really healthy food...) and muffins.

Matthew was the most surprised about our impending arrival. I gave him a positive pregnancy test on our anniversary. He looked at it and said, "Is this real? Where did you get it? Did you use the one out of the medicine cabinet? Or did you buy a new one?" I just sat there and looked at him and waited for it to sink in. Then he was really excited. "Really?!? YES!" He is as excited as Arabella and is handling my nausea with the neutral expression of a doctor. I only have minor urges to smack him.

So, with my friend Amber, my goal is to gain 10 pounds of baby. Yes, it'll probably be that big. Aren't they all? I guess my third goal is to see how much I can shock these Buffalo doctors and nurses with the size of my progeny...So, I'll be trying to keep the blog going with my oh-so-enlightening blogging at least once a month. However, if not, it is because I am working on my second goal and making a zillion cells a day to create Baby Starfruit (our nickname for him...long story.). Happy New Year.

Pie. Not the math kind.

Pie. I made the Thanksgiving pie. That was my assignment: make pie. How could I screw that up? Well, it was easy. And to do it in such an ironic and oh-so-fitting way? I must share with all of you.

I started out with the crust. Do you know that I am TERRIFIED of pie crust? Yep. I'll make bread, cake, cookies...even CREAM PUFFS for 200, but don't make me make pie crust. See, I never really learned from the master, my Grandma Mickey. She made pies that people travelled across the state of Alaska to eat. Her crust could make you cry. She never taught me that skill. Instead, she taught me to make cake. This is pretty ironic when you consider that she was the worst cake baker in town--she hated to make them because they always fell or cracked or were heavy or dry or--you get the picture. But she adored me and I adored cake, so the summer I wanted to learn to bake, she made a cake every day with me so I could learn to make cake. I make darn good cake. But I never learned from her how to make pie crust.

When I married Matthew, I discovered that his mom, Marilyn makes amazing crust. She has generously tried to teach me to make pie. However, she cooks like her son. Perfectly. Meticulously. And she can make pie and I am still scared and it is WAY easier to just let her make it. But she wasn't here last night and that was my assignment: make pie.

Now, other years, when I've been making everything else, I've taken the low road and bought frozen pie crust--hey, I'm human! But, since this was all I was suppose to do, and I would never dream of serving "fake" pie after my husband's amazing gourmet meal, I made pie crust. Long story short on the crust: yummy, but really very ugly. Buttery, flaky, crispy--ugly as sin.

To fill my lovely crust, I decided to make pecan--and chickened out. I was too tired after a day of pre-Thanksgiving crafts with 36 3rd graders, recovering from my birthday and cleaning for my arriving in-laws. So, we went with pumpkin and chocolate cream pie. Not just any ordinary chocolate cream pie--scratch double chocolate chocolate pudding and fresh whipped cream chocolate cream pie. Yum. I prebaked the crust and whipped up our favorite chocolate pudding. As "easy as pie". Pie number 1 done.

On to pumpkin. Now a little background on pumpkin. We have a standing family story about pumpkin pie that goes back to when I took Matthew home for the first time to Alaska. For some odd reason, my mother asked him to make a pumpkin pie while we were there. Unfortunately, we didn't have all the ingredients as listed on the recipe. For those of you who know my husband, you know that means: major issues. My hubby is stickler for recipe following. He and my mother had their first "fight" as he told her she couldn't tell him how to cook and she proceeded to make the pie filling and dump it in his finished crust. Unfortunately, the turmoil meant that she didn't quite get all the ingredients in the filling and the result: sugarless pumpkin pie. Not so tasty.

So, given a little background, I'm sure your avid little imagination can see where my foggy tired brain lapsed last night. After joking with Matthew: "Should I put sugar in it?" I somehow failed to put the sugar in. Yep, you guessed it. Sugarless pumpkin pie. Two of them. YUCK! Thank HEAVENS for the chocolate cream pie. And the fact that none of us were hungry--we'd all eaten way too much of Matthew's amazing dinner!

Got Church?

I love going to Church...Sundays are the best days--for the most part. I love them when I am busy doing the Lord's work and being with the Lord's children. In college, at one point, I would get up early, go take Uncle Delbert to church, go home, go to my ward, stay after for choir, go home, eat, have a little nap, visiting teach, be visiting taught/home taught or feed some one, go to a meeting or fireside and collapse in bed exhausted. It was one of the busiest days of the week for me. In fact, I always wondered how people had time to shop on Sundays--I am always too busy.

Now my Sundays are crazy still. And sometimes, peace is not found in abundance and at the end of the day, I wish I could have a do-over. I am working on that. It helps if I am uber-prepared and get myself ready first, turn on church music and try to focus on staying calm. Today was a good one. The kids were excited about their program, so were so anxious to get ready and look nice (they even let us comb their hair, which is a BIG step for them!) Bella even was okay with one of the 2 choices I offered. Grandma Susie was ready early and even the almost flat tire on the van didn't stop the driving machine that is Dad from getting us there on time. Hey, we sat in the cushioned pews--albeit on two of them, but we weren't in the gym!

The kids program was amazing. Orion told us all how he knows that Daddy loves him because he plays games with him and "nuggles" him at night. Matthew asked me if that was 5-year old blackmail for getting more of same in the future. Xavier shared the talk he gave at his friend's baptism this summer without a hitch--he spoke clearly and looked up at the audience. He was sincere and I was so proud. Then, he and 4 other friends sang a quartet. My boy can sing! He was on pitch (thanks Dad for that gene) and loud (thanks Mom for that gene) and he did great. Orion also kept the whole congregation from nodding off with his facial expressions. He was very involved in everything that the speakers were saying--listening intently and nodding...and grinning like crazy. I'd say Jim Carrey has competition in the future. Bella was a little put out to be left sitting with us and showed this for the rest of the day, but she'll get her turn someday.

As always, the kids headed to primary and I began the rounds of doing the Sunday business--Family History is a busy calling, who knew? And all those people we only see once a week. One of the hardest parts of living here is being 20 minutes from the church and up to 40 minutes from lots of the other members (not so far, but in the day-to-day craziness enough to keep us from getting together) is that we don't see each other, so we have to catch up on Sundays. I see that as part of my calling as a Mormon woman--don't you? Matthew, he moans and heads to the car. Me, it takes 20 minutes to get out the door and I probably have to run back in for one more quick chat. Then it is home to a ringing phone of appointments, calls and feeding of the urchins. We eat eggs and hashbrowns. Fast, filling and not too big of mess. Then everyone is off to "relax"...zzzzzzz if we are lucky. Usually reading, games and some creative play or crafting. Busy day? Yep. Add in a Stake meeting or a visiting teaching or home teaching appointment and craziness ensues...and my nap disappears.

I had high hopes as a youth that my Sundays would always be calm oasises (oasii?) of joy. We'd awake to the Mo-Tab early and pray, watch a conference talk and then walk (yes, I said "walk") to our ward house where all six (delusional child that I was) of my children would sit in matching (yes, matching) outfits and be perfect angels for all of Sacrament meeting. No activities needed. They would bask in the Spirit without a coloring book in sight. Maybe a journal for recording their deep insights. Yeah, not happening...I go to church armed with three kinds of treats, two bags of coloring books, activities and at least twelve toys. And yes, they still want to play with something out of my purse or Daddy's pocket. But occasionally they listen--and when learning occurs, I am reminded of why we are there. Xavier had to make a tough decision about keeping the Sabbath day holy a few weeks ago. He heard a story in Sacrament meeting about this very principle--and the miracle came. He made a good choice. Score one for persistence!

I find myself wondering how the pioneers got any rest at all on the Sabbath--they still had to tend the animals, water the crops, make the food (ummm, no frozen hashbrowns for them or eggs in a nice container in the fridge) and somehow get to church. But I know that like me, they found great joy in their Sunday routine of being with those other Children of God. Those special friends who shared their beliefs, the cares, the hopes and their dreams. Me too. And even on those Sundays when the alter-egos of my children take over (Zaviar the wicked, Stinkita, and Orion the Insane) and it is chaos and we are late and we sit in the gym, I am buoyed up by my faith and my attendance in God's House.

Let's pray.

Let's all pray--in whatever form it is you do it. I am asking because my Bella is sick--and I am worried. I am worried because 69 out of 400 kids at the local elementary school stayed home sick and even more were sent home. I am worried because my really good friend Kashann has a 5 year old little girl in the PICU with bacterial pneumonia--and she is up and down. I'm worried because my mom really shouldn't get this yuck that is going around. I'm worried because the guy up the street is kind to my kids and has poor health without catching anything new. I'm worried because of the sweet lady with cancer at church just had another treatment and still comes to church--her immune system really isn't up to this. I'm worried because my husband is worried. He is fasting for sick kids. I am praying for all of this. Sometimes that is all you can do. Will you pray with me?

I can't keep up.

I can't keep up. I just can't keep up. I keep trying to get ahead. And I can't even keep up. I try to do good. I try to be good, but all I seem to do is get behind! And as crazy as it seems, I seem to have gotten use to the idea that I'm behind, flaky and likely to stay there. So, I function in a "behind, flaky" kind of way. Which isn't really the way I want to be...it just is how I am. Or as Popeye, our favorite philosopher says, "I am what I am..." So the question then becomes: is that okay? Or should I try to catch up? And frankly, I just don't think it is going to happen...and maybe if I wait long enough everyone else will get so far ahead that they'll stop for lunch and then I'll catch up?

I remember a camping trip in Alaska. We were playing cards. Hearts--a terribly complicated game where you generally try to get the lowest number of points to win. A young friend was playing for the first time--she didn't really get the finer points of the game and was losing whole heartedly--finally after several hands said, "I think I'll sit this one out and let the rest of you catch up." Maybe she had the right idea.

Or maybe Xavier had it right when we were minigolfing and he said, "Look. I'm winning. I have the most strokes." And really, he was having the most fun--and getting the most exercise with all that swinging, I suppose. Maybe he was right.

I've been reading these great books by Eliot Pattison that take place in Tibet. Horrible things happen there. Horrible awful things have happened to people who have done nothing but tried to pray. I don't really understand the politics of it all, but in reading his delightful books, I have found a world of peace that the monks of his books inhabit. They sit and observe nature. They breathe and feel things. They say that the mountains talk to them. The rocks have life and tell secrets. I wanna go there--they are so far behind they are AHEAD of the rest of us. They transcend this life.

I think Jesus wasn't so very worried about being ahead or behind. He got left behind at the temple and didn't care. He was "about His Father's work." Maybe that is why I am behind. Because I am about My Father's work. I'd like to hope that at least sometimes, that is why I fall behind.

Yesterday, I taught a workshop to a bunch of children about family history. Yes--they didn't even snore too loudly. I've been stressing about it because I am so behind, I hadn't planned exactly what I wanted to do...but it all worked out. We played some games, colored a little and made family trees to put on our walls. I was behind, but you know what? They didn't care. They were just glad I showed up.

So, maybe it is ok. Maybe I will just keep trying. I'll try to be more accepting of myself, of my time and season. I know that I am not alone when I say: I can't keep up.