It seems I make New Years Resolutions every year. And at the end of each year I look at what I wanted to do differently and realize I failed miserably in most areas.
So, now I consider "matters to attend to..." each December and make a list in January and try to attend to them throughout the year. This year speaking kindly will be number one on the list, and I will return to my old favorites of scripture reading, (Made it through 1/3 of the Old testament this year. I was trying for all of it.), and Spanish. I will improve my Spanish this year. (that one goes on every year and for the past 7 years it has been a no go. *sigh*)
So, instead of resolutions and goals, identify your "matters to attend to..." :) It is that time of year.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Unkind Words
A woman spoke in our stake conference today. She told of an experience her 14 year old daughter had at school. She came home from school crying. Each student had been given an assignment to speak for four minutes on a topic of their choice. One girl brought her four year old sister to class to be part of her speech. You could see the little girl loved her big sister and was so excited to be part of her school day. She was happy to be involved with all the older kids. She smiled and looked at her big sister with such adoration.
The big sister took the little girl to the front of the class, and boosted her up on a stool. The little girl sat there beaming.
Then the older sister started her speech. She began a four minute tirade of negativity toward her little sister. She told how she was bratty, hung around when her friends were around, annoying, ate too much, was fat (not true). She went on and on. As she spoke the little girl’s adoring smile melted into misery. The woman’s daughter was devastated, in agony herself as she watched this take place. Her heart ached for this little girl who loved her big sister so much.
The stake conference speaker could not get through this part of her talk without crying. She cried as she told how devastated her daughter was as she sat and watched this unfold at the front of her class. She cried as she described her daughter sitting in the kitchen trying to understand what had happened. She cried as she asked us, the congregation, to consider what we say to others. Do we speak nastily to those who irritate us at work? Do we speak unkindly in jest? Do we speak negatively about or to anyone in any circumstance? She asked us to stop. Especially with those who live in our homes. Treat each other with kindness she begged us. It was obvious that this incident had dug a gouge in her soul. She was still feeling it as she spoke to us.
She continued. Nothing brings the spirit more quickly than kindness, and nothing drives it away more quickly than unkindness. Don’t let jealousy, contention or strife take over in our homes. We need to take the time to school our tongues. This is an archaic way of saying we need to think carefully before we speak, especially in anger or frustration, and especially in our homes.
Dad and I were struck silent by this talk. We made a commitment to each other at that moment to speak kindly, starting with each other. This will be hard for me. I tend to snipe at Dad on a regular basis. But, we are making this our new year's "matter to attend to"....
The big sister took the little girl to the front of the class, and boosted her up on a stool. The little girl sat there beaming.
Then the older sister started her speech. She began a four minute tirade of negativity toward her little sister. She told how she was bratty, hung around when her friends were around, annoying, ate too much, was fat (not true). She went on and on. As she spoke the little girl’s adoring smile melted into misery. The woman’s daughter was devastated, in agony herself as she watched this take place. Her heart ached for this little girl who loved her big sister so much.
The stake conference speaker could not get through this part of her talk without crying. She cried as she told how devastated her daughter was as she sat and watched this unfold at the front of her class. She cried as she described her daughter sitting in the kitchen trying to understand what had happened. She cried as she asked us, the congregation, to consider what we say to others. Do we speak nastily to those who irritate us at work? Do we speak unkindly in jest? Do we speak negatively about or to anyone in any circumstance? She asked us to stop. Especially with those who live in our homes. Treat each other with kindness she begged us. It was obvious that this incident had dug a gouge in her soul. She was still feeling it as she spoke to us.
She continued. Nothing brings the spirit more quickly than kindness, and nothing drives it away more quickly than unkindness. Don’t let jealousy, contention or strife take over in our homes. We need to take the time to school our tongues. This is an archaic way of saying we need to think carefully before we speak, especially in anger or frustration, and especially in our homes.
Dad and I were struck silent by this talk. We made a commitment to each other at that moment to speak kindly, starting with each other. This will be hard for me. I tend to snipe at Dad on a regular basis. But, we are making this our new year's "matter to attend to"....
On a late August day about 21 years ago, I watched J leave the house in a pink skirt and jean jacket. She had her backpack on her back and she was SO excited. I was excited for her. It was her first day of kindergarten. It would only last 3 hours.
J. was gone. I knew it would only last about 3 hours, but I was at a momentary loss. My life for the last five years had included her. She went almost everywhere I went. We did grocery shopping with a stop at McDonalds on the way home. We took weekly trips to the library to wander, read, find books, and listen to the lady who read to the kids. We did laundry and dishes, cooked dinners, made cookies, went visiting teaching and delivered newspapers on a 50 mile route. She was always there asking questions, telling me what to do and how to do it. That had changed.
Oh, we would still do those things in the summer, on weekends, during the holidays, but things would not be the same. There was a split, a tear that would not be put back together, and should not be put back together. Her life would expand to include the world of school. Mine would be lonely for a while until I adjusted to this change.
I watched the bus drive away and I walked back into the house. I wandered through the kitchen and the family room. I walked upstairs and into the girls’ bedroom. I sat down by the window and waited. I waited until the bus came up the street. I ran out of the house and to the corner to meet her. She hopped off the bus as excited as she was when she left.
I had a similar experience this week. Dad and I spent two days with P, J and their little one. We had a great two days. As we drove home I had a little revelation. J and I had reached another split. I have never hesitated to tell her what to do, how to do it and why she should do it. (I learned it from her.) I have given advice and counsel whether she wanted it or not. Sometimes it was a good thing and sometimes it WAS NOT. The Spirit whispered to me last night that I was wrong. J can live her own life, she can make her own decisions, and enjoy or suffer the consequences of those decisions. I don’t need to give my two cents on every piece of her life. If she wants my advice and my counsel, she will let me know. It is a difficult change. I want my children to be happy and to live righteous lives. However important that is, it is more important to butt out, stand by and be ready to give counsel, pray for blessings for my children and their children… and love them.
This was a sweet moment, sad because I am letting go of someone I love dearly. She is my baby. My mom duties are finished and my grandmother duties have begun. I need to embrace them, enjoy them and not waste a minute of them. *sigh*
If I had Three Weeks
When D. told me about her dream of her idea of doing something fun with my last two weeks of life, I responded, “Oh, D. I only have two weeks left. If I had three weeks I would love to do something fun, but since it is just two weeks, I cannot.” WHAT???????
After that scene, I have made a promise that I will do something fun every week. Not every day, some days are harder than others, but every week I will be able to look back and smile about something fun that I did. When I die, I will look back and remember that every week of the second half of my life (yes that means I will live to be 112 years old) I did something fun.
After that scene, I have made a promise that I will do something fun every week. Not every day, some days are harder than others, but every week I will be able to look back and smile about something fun that I did. When I die, I will look back and remember that every week of the second half of my life (yes that means I will live to be 112 years old) I did something fun.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Preface:
I have always wanted to write. I have kept journals, written family newsletters (albeit short lived), and even started a blog or two (and then immediately discarded them). However, I will start again and see what develops.
A few days ago D. called me and said, "Mom, I had a dream about you last night. In this dream you called and said that you had some nasty disease and only had two weeks left to live. I said to you lets do something fun together." She went on to say that my response was, "Oh, D. if I had three weeks left, we could do something fun. But with only two weeks left, I just can't." We laughed together at the silliness of it, but I have not been able to get that comment out of my mind.
I often want to write to or tell my kids things that I think about concerning the gospel, their lives, my life, their dad and a myriad of other thoughts, concerns, ideas, principles... you get the idea. I have also often thought I would like to write a letter to each of them (I even start them now and again) that would be given to them when I die. But, when do I write such a letter?
Do I write it when they are young and still impressionable? (too late) Do I write it over a period of years and they would find it when I die and they are all teary eyed and sorry they didn't spend more time with me? It never came to fruition in any form.
So, now I plan to keep this blog, adding posts as I think of things I want to tell my children. They can read it or not. (When I send them those emails, they have to read what I write.) In any case it is out there for them and the rest of the world to see. I have not chickened out. I have followed through. I feel better already about what I will tell them.
A few days ago D. called me and said, "Mom, I had a dream about you last night. In this dream you called and said that you had some nasty disease and only had two weeks left to live. I said to you lets do something fun together." She went on to say that my response was, "Oh, D. if I had three weeks left, we could do something fun. But with only two weeks left, I just can't." We laughed together at the silliness of it, but I have not been able to get that comment out of my mind.
I often want to write to or tell my kids things that I think about concerning the gospel, their lives, my life, their dad and a myriad of other thoughts, concerns, ideas, principles... you get the idea. I have also often thought I would like to write a letter to each of them (I even start them now and again) that would be given to them when I die. But, when do I write such a letter?
Do I write it when they are young and still impressionable? (too late) Do I write it over a period of years and they would find it when I die and they are all teary eyed and sorry they didn't spend more time with me? It never came to fruition in any form.
So, now I plan to keep this blog, adding posts as I think of things I want to tell my children. They can read it or not. (When I send them those emails, they have to read what I write.) In any case it is out there for them and the rest of the world to see. I have not chickened out. I have followed through. I feel better already about what I will tell them.
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