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!

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.

 

“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.

The New Mormon.org

Jul 222010
 

I made a profile for the new Mormon.org. Have you?

Go to http://mormonorg.lds.org/profile to set up your profile. Log in with your lds.org site login. (Obviously, this is just for members of the church to log in to. You need your membership number if you don’t already have an lds.org account.)

I think this is a nice way for people to put their social networking to good use. I don’t know how many people (if any) will view my profile out of the thousands of interesting profiles on Mormon.org, but it’s nice to know I’m doing something. I look forward to adding much, much more. It feels so good to bear testimony of what I know to be true.

Micro and Macro: Thoughts on Reading the Book of Mormon

Mar 312010
 

Last July, when Paul was about 21 months old, I began reading him the Book of Mormon as we ate our breakfast. At first, of course, he barely noticed. He’d keep babbling to himself as he ate his oatmeal. It didn’t (and doesn’t) take long to read five verses. By October, we’d finished First Nephi and begun Second Nephi.

By the New Year, I began to notice something. Paul, now 26 months, enjoyed Book of Mormon time. He’d point to the book on the shelf as he ate and remind me. He’d request Book of Mormon time during lunch too. He’d repeat words (“Wo! Wo!”). He’d look for the pictures of Jesus in it.

I’ve learned a lot from the Book of Mormon by reading so slowly. First, most verses have some precious truth that even a two-year-old can understand. It sometimes felt challenges reading the Isaiah chapters to him. After all, I didn’t want him to remember the word “whoredoms” at age two and a half. Yet, even in the midst of God’s scoldings, there are verses of comfort, reminders to hear with your ears, and calls to come to God. All these are concepts that we need. When a verse says “Open your ears and hear,” my two-year-old can understand. We’re almost finished with Second Nephi now. I’ll let you know when we begin Mosiah (I anticipate it will be another four months).

In January, I began a personal study of the New Testament. When I thought of the Stake President’s request that we read the Book of Mormon by the next stake conference, I discounted myself. Surely that is guidance for those who haven’t read it a dozen times already! I wanted to keep reading the Bible. I’m unfamiliar with it in comparison to the Book of Mormon.

But by March, I was feeling seriously guilty. One Tuesday night, I picked it up and began at the beginning once again. Knowing I had a “deadline” of April 25, I purposely carved out time every night that first week to read the requisite 20 pages (or so). To my surprise, I found myself compelled by what I was reading, so much so that some days I read 50 pages or more. I wanted to carry it around with me during the morning, which I often do with compelling novels, and read it in snatches when I get a break during the day. I wanted to stay up late reading a little bit more before I went to sleep. I wanted to read it.

I finished it in about three weeks, and it was an interesting way to read it. I wasn’t stopping and reading footnotes. I wasn’t taking notes and pondering the teachings I was reading. I was just reading for the overall spirit of the book. What I got was so much more. I gained a stronger love for the Book of Mormon as a book worth reading and rereading. I was reminded each day of the testimony I have of its truthfulness. And ultimately, I was reminded of the hope there is for me, for as I call upon the Savior’s atonement and seek forgiveness for my imperfections, I can someday return to Heavenly Father, imperfect as I am. The people of the Book of Mormon were blinded by pride, by the desire for power, by hate for those around them. It is a tragedy, and yet the message for me is one of hope.

This read, I most loved the book of Mosiah. I remember someone telling me before that King Benjamin’s speech is not for one who is depressed: he only reminds us of our weaknesses and discourages us further. But on the contrary, I loved everything about the book of Mosiah, especially King Benjamin’s speeches. Rather than being depressed, I saw the hope for me, imperfect as I am. I was inspired by Abinadi’s teaching, Alma’s conversion, and the tales of the two groups of people who were enslaved and reacted in two different ways. Alma the Younger’s miraculous conversion reiterates the fact that there is hope for all: we can all be forgiven.

The other thing I learned from reading the Book of Mormon is the importance of the actual act of doing so. Because I was so enthralled by its pages, Paul saw me reading it, and whenever I sat on the couch to read a few pages as he played with his cars, for example, he’d jump up and say “Mommy! Paul’s Book of Mormon too!” And he’d race to get his own blue copy, the one we read every morning at breakfast. He’d pull himself up on the couch as well and he’d “read” his along with me. (This would often last about 30 seconds, but occasionally he would flip through all the pictures and babble to himself for a good 5 minutes.)

The bottom line is that the Book of Mormon is something to be appreciated on both a Macro and a Micro level. Whether you read five verses a day or 60 pages strengthens you. I’m hoping my next read (which will happen now, concurrently with my New Testament study) will be more in the middle of the two extremes as I ponder footnotes, cross reference, and actually study the words saved for our day.

Beyond the mere fact that reading the Book of Mormon is a blessing, I also gained a stronger testimony of the Stake President’s counsel. Surely, there is a reason to obey.  I am grateful I did.

Spiritual Feasting

Sep 262009
 

I have the best husband in the world because he watched Paul tonight while I went to the general Relief Society dinner and meeting (it took six hours)!

“You know you could watch it at home,” he said as I got ready. I eyed the wide-screen TV and the leather couch. But I had decided to go last week, and since I was picking up a friend and our visiting teaching sisters, I had no choice at that point but to go.

Just after 4, I slipped out. I picked up three friends on the way, and by 5:20 we were at the Stake Center. The long drive went quickly because I was with my ward sisters, sisters that I hadn’t known very well. It was fun to get to know them.

The Mexican Fiesta dinner was lots of fun with the entire stake. I even saw a sister from the ward I was in when I was first married. She was shocked to learn that my baby is almost two years old.

Although I don’t like big social gatherings, this was just my type of gathering because I sat by a few sisters during dinner and had real conversations. (“Real” meaning they were about things other than airplanes and choo choo trains.) I practiced my Spanish (5 years rusty) with a sister in my ward that I’d never spoken to before.

At quarter to seven, we headed to the chapel to watch the broadcast together. There were more people than they anticipated: every bench was packed with sisters. The stake presidency hurried to set up chairs in the Relief Society room too to give more seating space. Our bench remained packed. I felt like a sardine. We joked as we kept bumping each other, trying to get comfortable.

But then the Stake President stood at the podium and mentioned a few spiritual thoughts as the image of the meeting in the Conference Center came in to focus behind him. Suddenly realized that I was about to hear the prophet! Or would it be President Eyring, whom I love? Or maybe President Uchtdorf who just puts things into such clear terms? I didn’t care, but I was suddenly eager to hear it all.

The music started and the meeting began. It felt so good. Sister Beck talked about the importance of visiting teaching, how it’s “more than just a visit,” and I thought of the sister at my side. It’s true, I thought: visiting teaching is a job that is never “done.” While we may not ever be best friends, there’s something to be said for (1) a one-hour-each-way drive to the stake center and (2) sitting like sardines in a chapel listening to our leaders. We were becoming closer. It was something good.

Later, Sister Thompson talked about focusing on not just knowing but truly accepting that I am a daughter of God. Accepting that makes all the difference, she said, her voice breaking. What a testimony that is, coming from a sister whose dreams didn’t turn out as she wanted them. Will any of ours? Will it matter if they don’t?

And then we sang. As we stood, shoulder to shoulder in crowded rows of sisterhood, our voices in the chapel joined together in a testimony to God:

The soul that on Jesus hath leaned for repose
I will not, I will not desert to his foes;
That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake,
I’ll never, no, never, no, never forsake,
I’ll never, no, never, no, never forsake.

Is there a reason we are to gather together as Relief Society sisters for such a meeting?

Tonight was a testimony to me that there is always a reason. Not only “Charity never faileth” but sisterhood strengthens faith.

I am so grateful I took six hours today to go to the Stake Center and be spiritually feed by the spirit with my Relief Society sisters at my side!

Where did you watch the Relief Society broadcast? Who was at your side?

Religious Education

Sep 232009
 

I still haven’t received any of the digital family pictures from my brother’s wedding, nor the two actually in-focus digital pictures from my in-laws from our time in Utah, so I don’t have any pictures to share with you.

But I have a cute story for you!

Starting in early July, I began reading Paul The Book of Mormon as we ate breakfast. We read about five verses a day. My brother and his wife were my inspiration, since I know they started reading The Book of Mormon to Daniel when he was quite young.

Now it is September, and we are still in 1 Nephi. Ah well. The most important thing is that Paul loves it.

If don’t get the book down, he points at it and calls out “Book! Book!” I get it down and we sing “Book of Mormon Stories” together (and lately “Nephi’s Courage,” as well, since Nephi is building a boat and all). Then I read a few verses while Paul finishes up his oatmeal.

Some days, especially at the beginning, he’d talk over me. Now he listens.

This week, we entered a new stage. We were eating lunch together (not breakfast, lunch) and he pointed to the bookshelf. “Book! Book!” and he started trying to sing “Book of Mormon Stories.” I read him five verses, and he called out “More! More!” So I finished the chapter.Today at breakfast, he also kept saying “More! More!” Five verses is no longer enough.

He’s young. My guess is he isn’t “learning” anything, other than that we love The Book of Mormon. And isn’t that way we do this?

I got a catalog in the mail from the church today. I noticed something: The Gospel Principles book is to be the Priesthood/Relief Society manual for the next two years. What a wonderful way to remind us that Sunday church meetings really is about being reminded of the basics!

I was excited, until I realized that, by being in Primary, I’ll never get those lessons. Ah, well.

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