Christmas Activities

Jan 102012
 

One of my New Year’s Resolutions is to update this page with family pictures in the same month in which the activities took place, starting with Christmas 2011. I especially want to be better since I posted 50+ pictures a month of newborn Paul and I want Caroline to feel she’s just as special a newborn.

I intended to post these pictures the last week of December. And yet, here I am well in to the new year, waiting for Paul to go to preschool to do so.

IMG_2334 At any rate, Christmas was wonderful this year. I baked cookies and fudge to enjoy for a month and to give away to neighbors. Paul was incredibly excited to countdown until Christmas and he enjoyed the activities we did.

Before Christmas, I was able to attend Paul’s preschool holiday party. I haven’t attended any of his parties before so it was fun to be there to help and take pictures, etc. This was a rather chaotic party; I wonder if preschool is always like this? At any rate, they had some carnival games, a few craft projects, and then a gym floor covered in bath sponges that were called “snowballs.” They were encouraged to have a snowball fight. Put 20 kids aged 3 and 4 in a room and tell them to have a snowball fight? Um… Paul reacted much as I would have. He threw a “snowball,” then watched people for a while. Then threw another. It was a bit intense.

Here are some of the best pictures of my little guy. The full album of the preschool is on flickr with a guest pass.

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Reindeer bowling


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He's proud he knocked some bowling pins down.

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We are low-key about presents (I do not want to raise a spoiled or greedy child who says “I want that!” for every toy he sees). I gave him a (plastic) kids microscope, books (which is what he asked for), and an inflatable globe, among some other smaller things. Grandpa Sorenson gave us a book of silly stories that he wrote and Grandma gave him a Thomas the Tank Engine puzzle. Grandma Peggy sent Trio blocks, which along with our Legos, have given me lots of time as Paul slips downstairs to create yet something else. (YES!)

We enjoyed the true spirit of Christmas. At the beginning of the month, he loved selecting some clothes for a “poor boy” from the library’s giving tree and talked for days about the boy who was too poor to get his own clothes. (He was particularly excited because the boy was FOUR just like he is so he knew just what the boy would like.) He loved selecting gifts for his cousins (we do a family gift rotation among my siblings). He loved the excitement of wrapped presents and waiting for them. I don’t think he was tempted to open them, he just loved shaking them and counting them and wondering. He was fascinated by the mystery of magical Santa (although *cough* the reindeer forgot to eat the reindeer food that Paul left on the front step. How’d I know he’d check that FIRST?! even before looking under the tree?).

And most importantly, Christmas was, for our family, about the true meaning of the season, the birth of our Savior. I love having Christmas on Sunday, because then church reinforced the real meaning of the season. I wish we had services every Christmas morning, but of course, that’s not how it works.

The not-so-materialistic goals we have worked well this year: we got to church at 10:30 and someone asked him what he got for Christmas.

“Ugh….I forgot.” he responded. (But he did remember to say that the reindeer forgot to eat the reindeer food he left for them…). So, at any rate, I know Christmas for Paul was not about the presents. Mission accomplished!

We also got to spend the afternoon with Grandma and Grandpa and Paul’s Sorenson cousins. It was lots of fun to watch the kids playing, and it was great to gather with family on a special day.

After Church Christmas Day

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31 weeks pregnant

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Cousins
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Grandpa Reading The Grinch
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Merry Christmas!

Reflections

Apr 172011
 
  • In Paul’s primary talk, he said, “Jesus rose for us.” He then, in a different context, saw the  picture of the Risen Lord appearing to Mary and said, “Look, Mommy! Jesus rose-ing!”
  • Normally during Sacrament Meeting, Paul sings “mah blah blah mah!” as loudly as he can in time with the music, as he or I points to the words on the page. Today, the speaker introduced the song, “Behold, the Great Redeemer Die!” Paul sang along with the correct words for the first two lines. I was amazed: he knows that song. I know that is because we go to church every Sunday.
  • Regularly, Paul stops playing to say, “Mommy, I say unto you, I love you!” This is how I know he really does hear the scripture study we do together, even though it seems he’s not paying attention.
  • Paul is regularly teaching me a lesson in humility and generosity, from his sharing his fruit snacks to his outpouring of love. From his example, I better understand the Savior’s injunction to be as a little child. I’m to approach life with sincerity, to love and give without thoughts of “scarcity” and selfishness, and to be honest in my thoughts, words and deeds. (Although I should mention that Paul has learned to lie, he is still for the most part a very truthful, loving, sensitive child.)

Paul’s First Primary Talk

Apr 152011
 

The subject Paul was given for his talk was “Jesus Christ is my Savior and Redeemer.” We got our favorite pictures of Jesus from the gospel art kit, Mommy put it in order, and to help herself, she wrote the words of Paul’s talk on a paper on the back. To her surprise, Paul was reading the words on the back. Here is Paul’s talk for Sunday.

We watched this video together and Paul said, “Mommy, I want to follow Jesus.” Yes, dear. I do too!

Eminent Women Redux

Apr 112011
 

Remember how last year when I went to Nauvoo I was a model for a painter? He was painting the eminent men and women who appeared to President Woodruff in the St. George Temple. I became incredibly interested in this event, and although I haven’t thought of it every day, the event is something I have recalled a few times in the past months.

This week I was reading the poetry of Anne Bradstreet. I wrote about Anne Bradstreet today on my reading blog. Anne Bradstreet was a Puritan, a dedicated wife, and a free-thinker, as she balanced being a mother to eight with being a pioneer in a 1630s New England settlement and a talented poet in her own right.

“I am obnoxious to each carping tongue
Who says my hand a needle better fits.” (“The Prologue” stanza 5)

Yet, given the fact that she was a woman of faith, a Puritan woman at that, she also has numerous poems about faith. Just like you and me, she struggled to come to peace with her life struggles and her faith in the beyond. Take this sample from a poem she wrote just after her house burned down.

There’s wealth enough; I need no more.
Farewell, my pelf; farewell, my store.
The world no longer let me love;
My hope and Treasure lies above. (“Verses on the Burning of My House”)

Or maybe these thoughts of faith as she suffered from insomnia one night:

By night when others soundly slept
And hath at once both ease and Rest,
My waking eyes were open kept
And so to lie I found it best.

I sought him whom my Soul did Love,
With tears I sought him earnestly.
He bow’d his ear down from Above.
In vain I did not seek or cry.

My hungry Soul he fill’d with Good;
He in his Bottle put my tears,
My smarting wounds washt in his blood,
And banisht thence my Doubts and fears.

What to my Saviour shall I give
Who freely hath done this for me?
I’ll serve him here whilst I shall live
And Loue him to Eternity. (“By Night While Other’s Slept”)

At any rate, as I read her struggles of faith, I felt the same things I felt when I have been doing family history. I felt she was right next to me as I read her poems of faith. I felt that the veil was incredibly thin. And I had a distinct impression that she was one of those eminent women who appeared to Wilford Woodruff.

I looked on all the sites I looked on last time. I could not find Anne Dudley or Anne Bradstreet on any of the lists. So I looked her up in New Family Search. I found that her baptisms were done in September 1879 in the St. George Temple. It was two years and a half after the eminent men and women appeared to Wilford Woodruff. Maybe she was not one of those who appeared on that day in 1877, but somehow her name got put in the system at the same time. (Those were the first baptisms for the dead performed in a temple, as the St. George Temple was the first operating temple.)

Bradstreet’s poems show that she already believed the gospel two hundred years before it was restored. Such good poetry. Read it at Anne Bradstreet.com.

What are you reading for National Poetry Month?

By the way, can you tell which face is based on mine in Bedard’s image? I don’t know for sure, of course, but there’s one that I think looks rather like me. The painting is almost done and so beautiful! See here.

Guess What Song Paul Is Learning in Primary?

Mar 202011
 

As he was eating breakfast the other day, Paul stopped mid bite and said, “Mom! I know who I am!”

I congratulated him. Then a few bites later. “Mom! I know God’s plan!”

Aw, how sweet!

He also told me “I know who you are, too. You are my Mommy. I know that because I love you.”

He also has been closing his prayers “In the name of Jesus Christ of latter-day Saints.” Combined with his recent confusion as to who to pray to, his prayers have been a bit confused lately.

 

2011 Goal Number 2: Do Family History Work

Mar 132011
 

I was walking the dirty and crowded back streets of Greater Manchester, England, in the summer of 1885, searching for them. Then I remembered their address, and asked a passerby for directions. I was a strange sight in my modern day clothes, but I hadn’t had time to prepare for my journey: I didn’t know I would be time traveling, after all.

As I approached the small cellar, I saw two men approaching, and I knew it was James (senior) and his brother Martin. James was a bit wary of me, but when I’d explained that I was his descendant, come to visit from 2011, he was willing to answer my questions. I asked him question after question, and I’m sorry to say that I cannot at this time remember what I asked, let alone the answers he gave me! Just one question I remember: why hadn’t he gone yet to New York looking for Margaret? She was his wife, after all!

As I tried to find my way out of the time warp, Margaret Ann and her father were starting to pack their bags. They said it would take a few weeks to get enough cash together, but they were ready to go to New York and find Margaret. They realized they’d waited too long.

The streets got darker as I stumbled along in the maze, and suddenly I was awake, Paul asking me for help with something this worldly.

It was just a dream. Upon waking, I knew immediately that I’d had some of the details wrong. James and his children did not live in the cellar at Back Acton Street: that was the address of Thomas Simmons and his family during the 1851 and 1861 censuses. What was his address in 1881? I should look it up for the next time.

Remember how I claimed that this year I’d make New Year’s Resolutions after I’ve accomplished something? I’ve been meaning to tell you about my resolution number 2, but every time I sit down to write about it, I get distracted on Ancestry.com or some other site. Tonight I’m determined to get it down for your sakes.

Saturday, January 1, 2011, my Grandma, Helen Ruth Wilson Benac, peacefully passed away. I shared some thoughts in January on my reading blog about the power of reading her personal history.

What I didn’t mention on that blog was that on Sunday, the day after her passing, I began to feel like I was supposed to be doing family history work. “I don’t know how to do that!”I told myself, shrugging it off.

I had tried for a few weeks when Paul was newborn, and I never seemed to have enough time to get into the groove before he’d need my attention again. In Australia, I had nearby access to a family history center, but I still didn’t make much progress. I had heard about James Simon and his wife Margaret’s mysterious disappearance, and I was fascinated by it. But I decided that there was a season for everything, and family history work was for those who had more time than I did.

This January, after Grandma’s passing, the urge to revisit James and Margaret’s story persisted for weeks. I kept thinking about Grandma, and I kept thinking about Margaret’s story. Finally, in the middle of January, on a Tuesday morning after I left my son at preschool, I stopped by the local family history center and said, “What do I do first?”

The librarian showed me how to correct errors on New Family Search, how to add information I’ve found, and how to start discussions. I left the Family History library praying that somehow I’d find Margaret’s mother, because I was certain the two of them wanted to be found. After just one hour of studying Margaret’s name and her mother’s blank line, I felt a spiritual bond with them.

I called my mom to say how excited I was about the progress, and a few days later, my brother Frank sent me an email saying he was working on these same people and maybe we should collaborate. Suddenly, there are three of us working on finding this family extensively.

It has been delightful, time consuming, exhausting, frustrating, exciting, boring, and over everything else successful.

Thanks to our combined research (and some funding from Mom and an ancestry subscription from Frank!) we’ve discovered Margaret Shield’s mother: Ann Dunlope. (See Margaret’s birth certificate). We’ve found so many more than just Ann, because we didn’t know much about these people. We have more than 20 new names to take to the temple for baptisms or marriages. Just a quick rundown: Margaret’s father is Patrick and she has two younger brothers (and a sister we knew about). James comes from a family of not three children but ten, and we have names for at least five of them, plus his parents (although their work is almost done!). We know when James and his family came to England from Ireland, and we may have found that James was actually born in England after their arrival. We’ve found that Margaret may have been married before she married James, that what we thought was the oldest child may have been from another marriage, and that our ancestor Margaret Ann (who was born to Margaret and James) was born a year before the two of them were married. In fact, Margaret may have been a bigamist, a thought that makes me, a reader of Victorian literature, rather excited to discover just what really happens at the end of this real-life family novel.

Each answer we get from the English records only opens up another set of questions.

Although my mind has been mainly full of Margaret Sheilds and James Simon and their children and their siblings, as I’ve thought of my open-ended goal to “do family history work” this year, I keep thinking of Ann Dunlop. To me, she is the image of success, for we have found Margaret’s mother. That is what Margaret wanted me to find back in January. As I left the family history center that first day, I felt Margaret’s presence along with her unknown mother’s as they asked me to find her so they could be sealed together.

Date for that sealing to be determined. I keep hoping that we’ll find a few more names this week.

I am the daughter of Ellen Margaret Benac, who is the daughter of Helen Ruth Wilson, who is the daughter of John Wilson, who is the son of Margaret Ann Simon (and Charles Edwin Wilson), who is the daughter of Margaret Shields (and James Simon) who is the daughter of Ann Dunlop and Patrick Shields.

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Cousins Jessica and Paul with Great-Grandma in November

If you are a part of the family, log in to the New Family Search and you’ll see it for yourself. If any of you, especially those related to James and Margaret, want to be in on our email discussions, please let me know in the comments and I can send you our emails. Sometimes I send five in an evening, just so you know.

“And She Ministered Unto Them”: Thoughts on Work and Life

Feb 202011
 

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Peter’s wife’s mother was sick with a fever. The Savior came in and healed her, “and she arose, and ministered unto them.” (Matthew 8:14-15).

The Sunday school class last week was discussing the miracle of raising her from her sick bed. I was thinking about how she didn’t even get a break. One minute she’s sick in bed, and the next minute she’s making supper. She was probably the Relief Society president, poor lady.

That observation about the women in the New Testament times has been with me as I’ve gone about my week, because it’s not just New Testament times. Women simply don’t get a break from life: there is no running away. I think of when I’ve been sick and Paul hit me with his toys all day long. I think of when I’m in a cranky mood. I can’t just stomp, because I have to remember that Paul has needs. Even when I’m away at book club, I’m still thinking “I wonder if Paul’s in bed yet, otherwise he’ll be cranky tomorrow,” etc. Mothers never get time off. It’s the way it is. “Women should be women and not babies who need petting and correction all the time.”

The Relief Society Visiting teaching thoughts reminded me of the role I have, as a Relief Society sister, in this age:

“Just as the Savior invited Mary and Martha of New Testament times to participate in His work, women of this dispensation have an official commission to participate in the Lord’s work. … The organization of Relief Society in 1842 mobilized the collective power of the women and their specific assignments to build the Lord’s kingdom.” (Sister Beck)

Then, this afternoon, Ryan asked me about the cup of syrup spilled on the bottom of the fridge. I was a bit annoyed, angry, and upset. Yes, far too much. I didn’t want to clean that up. I want nothing to do with cleaning up that sticky mess. Grr! I didn’t knock it over! Yuck! What a pain! I just cleaned the fridge last week!

Less than ten minutes later, Ryan and I had a conversation about when I almost died, almost ten years ago now.

One minute I was eating a slice of meat in a café in Bolivia, not thinking much about life, and the next minute I was turning blue, literally choking from want of air. There was panic initially, but then an overwhelming feeling of sadness came over me. Mostly, I was sad to be leaving the world. I thought of all the wonderful things I’d experienced. Even more, I thought of all I had hoped to happen in my life: falling in love, becoming a mother, and seeing my parents and siblings again, telling them I love them. I wanted one more chance to do something wonderful. I didn’t want my physical body to be dead.

Why was I so incredibly sad? After all, life continues after this one. Why should I be sad when I knew I’d have chances, at some point after this life, to marry, to raise children, and to otherwise continue to progress? Why be sad at the fact that I was done with this life when I’d be soon rejoining the Maker in an even more glorious world? The life after this one is glorious, and this life is rather hard.

But when I got that precious little breath of air once more, about 3½ minutes later, and I realized that I wasn’t going die, that I was okay, that I would make it home again! That I might still fall in love! Be a mother! LIVE! I was so grateful.

So I should not complain so much now. I shouldn’t be so annoyed at the spilled syrup. (All. Over. The. Fridge.) I should be grateful I’m still alive, that I’ve lived to have a husband, and a son, and a home, and a fridge, and maple syrup to clean up.

That, I think, is why Peter’s mother-in-law was so grateful to get right back up and serve the Lord. And that is why we, as women, should likewise rejoice in service. These relationships and opportunities are just what we are here on earth to do.

Today’s Relief Society lesson was also about the glorious principle of work: why should we as home-working women, resent the housework so much?

I need to remember that memorable bite more often. Life is so glorious!

P.S. The photo above is from the horseback ride we went on shortly after my experience. I didn’t take the picture, since my camera had been stolen; one of my friends took this picture.

P.P.S. The Heimlich Maneuver works, if you wanted to know. Please learn it!

What Makes a Prayer a Prayer?

Feb 102011
 

The other day, Paul, who is obsessed with the ABCs and sings the “ABC Song” a dozen times a day, said he’d say the prayer for lunch.

“This is the new prayer, Mommy.” And then, in the melody of the ABCs, he continued, “ABCDEFG, Thank you, God, for everything.”

“That’s not reverent, dear.” I responded. “We don’t joke about prayers. That sounds like the ABC song to me.”

“But that’s my prayer,” he insisted, frowning when I asked him again to say a proper prayer.

Today, when I dropped him off at preschool, I was telling his teacher about the ABC Book he made, and how he just loves the ABCs.

“Oh, we have a new snack prayer they just love,” she said. Then she sang the song I’d heard from Paul, except at the end it said, “Thank you, God, for feeding me.”

“Oh, I get it now!” I responded, “Paul had told me that but I hadn’t believed it was a prayer.”

“Oh, well, it has the ‘Thank you, God’ so it is the snack prayer,” she responded.

And since then, I’ve been pondering prayer. Does really saying “Thank you, God” make something a prayer? To me, a casual “Thank God” sounds like taking his name in vain. People say that all the time, and how often are they sincerely thanking him?

That said, everyone prays differently, and I certainly don’t believe God ignores sincere prayers. The Lutheran service that my son sang at during the fall was a “contemporary” service, with a rock band. Yet, I still felt the spirit as I listened to the pastor talking about how we can all be more loving to each other. Just because something is done with a different degree of reverence does not mean there is no spirit or sincerity.

But to my sensibilities, it is irreverent. In my home, I don’t want my son praying by singing an ABC Song prayer that sounds like it’s using God’s name in vain. I want him to bow his head, close his eyes, and pour out his own words of thanks to his Heavenly Father, speaking to him as the son of God that he is. I don’t want my son sitting at the piano, making up a melody for a song with the only lyrics being “God, God, God.” (He wanted to sing that for Family Home Evening this week.) To me, that is irreverent. I’d rather he sing of his relationship with his Heavenly Father through primary songs.

I just signed him up for his second year of preschool at the Lutheran preschool he’s been going to. Now I’m wondering if he’s just going to be confused. He’s already learned the distinction that, “At home I pray to Heavenly Father, but at preschool I pray to Jesus.”

Is learning reverence for our Heavenly Father, especially during prayer, something I should worry about? I do want him to learn the gospel of Jesus Christ correctly, and maybe the Lutheran influence will only confuse him.

Thoughts on Presidents Gordon B. Hinckley and Thomas S. Monson

Oct 262010
 

Oh! How I loved President Hinckley! When Paul said he wanted to watch the October 2007 General Conference, I was excited to hear my beloved prophet speak once again. October 2007 was his last conference. He died in January 2008. October 2007 conference was the conference I watched as I was in labor. It is a special conference for me.

But is was so interesting that now, even though I still got a feeling of love when I saw him get up at the podium, I no longer got that warm tingly feeling inside when I saw him speak and heard his voice. That warm testimony now goes to President Monson, and it came when the camera panned over him.

It was amazing how seeing President Hinckley speaking felt so different, but it is a comfort to know that I do have a testimony of President Monson. He is the prophet for our day. God lets me know.

General Conference Revisited

Oct 262010
 

I mentioned on my blog how I was impressed by how much of General Conference Paul understood. Sunday afternoon I found out just how much more than I realized.

We’ve decided to make Sunday afternoon a “Church movie” afternoon. This means that Paul can only watch movies about the scriptures or church history: essentially, he can watch any of the dozen church DVDs that we have. Now, these are not normally geared toward three year olds, but it’s motivation to do other things on Sunday afternoons. Normally, Paul wants to watch the “Temple movie” (The Mountain of the Lord”) because he loves to see the temple (and not just in song).

The other day, I was listing the titles of all the movies he could watch and he didn’t seem interested in any of them. I came to the end of them and noticed we had October 2007 General Conference on DVD. I mentioned “Or you could watch General Conference from a few years ago.”

Suddenly there was interest. “Yes, I want to watch General Conference!” Paul exclaimed.

“OK,” I said, not expecting this to last very long.

Well, he got through the opening song and then President Hinckley got up to talk and Paul kept watching. And then they were panning through the other general authorities and I heard Paul get excited again.

“Look! It’s President Monson! And Look! It’s President Eyring!”

Now, I knew Paul knew the prophet. But the only way he could have learned President Eyring was through the fact that President Eyring had spoken at General Conference and he heard his name a few times. He remembered.

So never underestimate a three-year-old. They are listening.

(And in case you are wondering, I think Paul got through one more song before he’d had enough.)

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