Makes Ya Think

This morning I attended a funeral of a neighbor.  He was a good man, father, husband, neighbor, and fellow congregant.  He was 66 years old.

His children--6 of them-- now all married and in their own rights good people, took part in the service.  As I listened to reminiscences or memories they shared I couldn't help but think what I would share if I was in their shoes and I was eulogizing my dad.  I'm not saying this to be morose, or to hurry anyone's demise, but funerals are designed to make you stop and think.

Many things came to my mind about my dad, and mom for that matter. As the older daughter of these two unique people, I have a lot of memories.  Some of those are possibly unique to me--but many are shared with others.  One of this neighbor's sons began by saying that his dad  would tell the same story, because he liked to tell it, and you'd listen because of that fact alone until you've heard the story a dozen times.  Immediately I though of the Black Pontiac story.  It's capitalized because it is one of THOSE stories.  I love watching my dad tell that story.  I've heard it more than a dozen times.  I can anticipate the next line and begin chuckling to myself long before I know dad is getting close to the zinger of an ending.

In the funeral the kids talked about their parents being a team in their family's business and in life.  I have seen that with my parents.  How they can still love each other after working all day together--for YEARS!  How they know the other one so well that few things surprise them, but they still try.  It is inspiring and heart warming and fills me with wonder.

They spoke about their dad's business and the "almost done" quality of his work.  How their dad (and electronics repairman) would stop on their way out of town for a vacation to help some granny adjust her TV before they hit the road.  Many times I remember picking up a part being part of the day's activity or running to a customer's place on their way to dinner.

A life long friend of the deceased spoke near the end of the service today of the joy they shared as boys and the appreciation he had of a true, life long friend.  Those kind of people are rare, and to have one is a real treasure.  My parents have a few like that in their lives, and because of my parents' decision to live in the same place and put down permanent roots, I have those in my life too.  he is absolutely right--they are treasures.

The whole morning was a tender reminder of the blessing I have to have parents with me still who not only love me, but love each other--still.  My parents recognize and value their family and they will be the first to say we are not a perfect example of anything, I know they keep trying because it is worth it to them.  And that makes it all the more worth it to me.

I'm even more grateful to have them here still, and while I live 900 miles away, my heart is always closer than that.  Separation is only insurmountable when your heart isn't willing to be there. and that is not the case with my parents.  What a tremendous blessing.  Like they always have been to me.

Notes From An Empty Nest

This blog post has been swirling around my mind for several weeks.  I just didn't have the courage to put it in writing.  The past 6 weeks or so, well, the whole summer, really, has given me many reasons to pause and think, and feel, and remind myself to keep breathing.

This is the most difficult summer I can remember.  Nothing tragic, or life-threatening.  Just a lot of change all coming at once.  Coming at the end of the summer. Coming sooner than I had imagined.  Hanging over my head; still, just coming.

As August began people would ask me, everywhere I went, "What are you going to do as an 'empty nester'?" Or they might word it differently, such as, "Ooooh, I bet you just can't WAIT to get that boy out of the house."

I'd smile and chuckle about "he needs this, and I need this".  But that was not an honest answer.

The truth was I had never thought of myself beyond my role as a mom.  In my head I know that I will ALWAYS be The Boy's and the Girl's mom.  But it isn't the same as an every-day, full-timing, best job in the world kind of mom.

With The Girl off on a mission for our faith, and The Boy leaving for his freshman year in college, I was suddenly without my true identity, my vocation, my purpose-filled role in our family.  Sure I had a job I'd been doing for work for the past 2 1/2 years.  But my focus was shifting.  My skill set and expertise were no longer needed in a day-to-day way.

In my heart I could hear myself scream "WHY didn't you have more kids?!?"  But I knew in my heart the reasons.  The two we have are great.  My mental health might not have survived (with whatever I have survived with at this point) another delivery and subsequent child to raise.  I know the peaceful feeling I had after The Boy was born that this was my set.  I had quite enough to be getting along with, thankyouverymuch.  I had had much to learn, and they were enough to teach me.

But being a mom: an involved, participating, full-throttle, hearts-all-in kind of mom was what I knew I was.  When he left for school, what would that make me?

I know my mom has always said that if she did her job right, my sister and I would be responsible, capable adults in our own right. That is the kind of mom I had striven to be.  In fact, if I was half as good as she was, my kids would probably turn out pretty great too.  But I wasn't home to watch her experience this empty nest thing.  I didn't see her model this behavior, teach me from her instinct. 

All I had going for me was a lot of self doubt, and heightened worry about The Boy with no way to immediately help him.  He was moving 274miles, and 3 1/2 hours away.  He knew no one there.  His roommate had no similarity of faith.  I only knew his sooner to be roommate didn't smoke, or at least didn't want to live in a roommate where anyone smoked.  Not a lot to go on.

But, The Boy went anyway.  His move was vastly different from his sister's from two years ago.  Much less premeditated.  Much less actually to pack.  Much less information shared with his mother.  He was behaving like, well, like, his dad.

Genius Golfer thinks over things extensively.  However, he shares those thoughts sparingly, rarely even.  But he is thinking about things.  The Boy was doing exactly that.  He was following the model he learned from.  It just wasn't me.

The Boy is incredibly bright, in his own way.  Where his sister is book smart, he has more street smarts.  But he is naturally very bright and when motivated he can do anything he sets his mind to.  This was HIS decision.  This was HIS school of choice.  This was HIS life he was deciding about now.  I had to let him make those choices.

That said, I would still love a phone call or text once a week or so, just so I know he is OK.  But if I also DON'T hear from the university, a hospital, or the police, I guess no news is good news.  I just have to trust him.  I also need to trust Him.

Never have my prayers been so sincere or heartfelt as when I feel out of control.  and now with my young, semi-adult children, I have NO control.  I have to trust the Lord that He will protect them, and guide them, and see to their needs when I cannot.  They were His before they were mine, anyway.  I just need to remember that. And keep praying.

So, I am adjusting.  I still don't love it, but I am seeing silver linings starting to show themselves in my cloudy situation.  I am only having to make dinner about 2 nights a week.  Since I don't know how to cook--much less for only two--we tend to have more then enough to last the week.  Or, GG gets a hankering fro something out, so we just go.  We can get by with our varied 2-4-1 deals.  It's almost cheaper to to it that way.

My evenings are my own.  GG is still golfing, as long as the weather is good, so I can do what I like for the most part.  No one is there to tease me about whatever book I want to read, movie to watch, or project to tackle.  And the Netflix is all mine.

The house stays MUCH cleaner with only two old people living here.  And GG takes his turn so there is less for me to do there too.

And when I do get a text (from The Boy) or a weekly email (from The Girl) I am absolutely thrilled to hear from them.  They are both doing great.  They have adjusted to their new situations better and faster than I have. They are becoming great kids--no, great people.  They are pretty terrific, if I do say so myself.  I am prouder than I have ever been of them.  I love them more than when they left.  And I know I will love them even more when I see them come through the door and I can hug them again as their mom.

Lesson Learned...But Not Perfected

I need to learn that I cannot just "puke" out all my confusion and inner turmoil in a blog post.  Mostly because it causes my mom needless worry when she reads it.  And she will always read it.

So, an apology for puking out my stress and frustration--and likely some hormones thrown in for good measure--on my last post.  It serve the purpose however, as I felt the relief of getting it off my chest.  But my mom did call to make sure I was okay.

I just want to write how much I love serving at the temple.  I am a new temple worker.  I began the beginning of June.  Today was my seventh week of serving there.  It was my first day after "graduating" from my training period.  I have never felt a most permeating peace than I feel in the temple.  It doesn't matter if I'm there as a worker or a patron.  The temple is a place of peace.  It settles my mind, my heart and my spirit.  Perhaps it does these miraculous things because the things we do there are the things that REALLY matter.  I like to hope that is it.  I know I don't always deserve that exquisite peace, but I feel it every time.  No matter what.


I want to share that I love my family.  Even when they make me crazy.  You know, in case anyone wondered about that.

And I have to share that I ADORE being a missionary's mom.  I'm uplifted, encouraged and delighted with her attitude and willingness to serve.  She shares the joy she finds in inviting others to Christ.  She finds excitement even when a situation isn't exactly what she'd like it to be. She works hard and is a terrific example--to me, to her brother, to our family.

And finally I am grateful to have inherited, either genetically or learned, a sense of humor.  Life is hard enough if you laugh through it.  If your didn't laugh--you'd be crying.  Every day.  Laughing is much more fun.  Whether that was taught to me or what I was taught only developed my sense of humor faster, I'll take it.  Life is short.  Laugh.  Even at yourself.

The Struggles Are Real, People

It's July already.  My last entry was May.  That is no okay, people.  I feel like my life gets sucked away as fast as I get it some days.

I want to believe that life is getting better as I age--you know, like aged beef, or cheese.  But what I know is that my eyesight is fading--though, thank you glasses--who EVER thought I'd say that?!?  I know that my mind finally feels like its my own again and that very moment my body revolts and I feel decades older than I am chronologically.  Then, I make some changes to my diet, sleep, vitamins, you name it, and my mind is instantly scrambled.

I know that parenting never ends.  Even when I think I'm through the wicked wood of preschool years, the fluster of elementary school, the torment of junior high and the angsty kerfulffle of high school,  I'm now the parent of two young adults.  and they behave--some days--like they did as preschoolers, at least their thought process.  The only thing that is keeping my parenting head above water is knowing their frontal lobes aren't fully developed until about 25.  Luckily for me, they seem to be taking turns in this relm.  But the fight inside me is real.  Life lessons are hard to watch fromteh sidelines, knowing fullwell what is waiting around the corner that they cannot see.  I had no idea that becoming a life-longparent is equal parts heart breaking and awe insiring.

I know that things will get better.  Some day.  One of these days.  But the days and nights until that happens give my mind timet o worry, imagine the worst and blame myself for mistakes--honest, didn't-know-any-better, parenting goofs.  I also know I am not a perfect parent--but I know I am doing the best I can.  It doesn't make it easier.

I know that my faces shows me new wrinkles when I start to discover I am still fighting pimples.  What?!?  That makes me understand the confusion is as real to me as I feel it is for everyone else.  Skin care and parenting--who knew they were so interrelated?! Argh.

But I also know, undoubtably, that parenting the two children I was blessed to have in my life, is the greatest worthwhile challenge I will ever have.  I know that God loved these two kids before I ever thought of them. And He loves them now. Still. When I am dropped to my knees, not knowing what to do or how to help them, I know I can pray and have a loving perfect, Heavenly Father guide me as I try to parent His children, albeit imperfectly, on earth.

When I stop and think about who these two kids of mine are really, and Whose they are, I'm humbled and grateful and ready to give it all another go--no matter how my heart is aching (because of them, or for them). I'm grateful I'm not doing this by myself but that I have a partner who will share the burden and celebrate the joy.  Together.  That is what this whole struggle is--an attempt to be together forever.

It is the hardest, sweetest, most frustrating, most exhilerating experience of my mortal life.  That is what it was meant to be.  Knowing what I know, why does these bumps and dips surprise me so much?  You expect the big drop as you ascend on a clickety roller coaster.  Family life is no different.  Except the clickety sounds aren't always there in the trials and struggles to help you anticipate the joys and thrill of the descent.

And the thrills and joys are as real, and luckily, more everlasting than the struggles.  If that wasn't true every child would be an only child.  Who would do this again without a little payout once in a while?  The trouble comes when the struggles and trials and challenges cloud your memory and you loose sight of those blessed moments of wonder and thrill and exhileration.

At least I know the ride-loading drill: "Keep your hand and arms inside the ride until it comes to a full and complete stop". If I'm still moving, the ride isn't over yet.  And that gives me the hope to wait out the cloudy bits and the tear filled view of what is coming.  It will be OK.  It will BE okay. It WILL be okay.

That much I know.

Redundancy, Again: Identity Theft

I realize I am not posting as often as I had hoped, nor am I posting much in the way of earth-shaking news.  But I feel like I have been mulling over several interrelated feelings and thoughts that I am still digesting and absorbing. 

Does this sounds like a gastro-medicinal paragraph?

For nearly twenty years my whole life has revolved around taking care of two smaller humans: The Boy and The Girl.  Sure there was some housework and cooking and some community volunteering--again, that dealt directly with whatever the kids were involved with at the time.  suddenly, with The boy's impending high school graduation this week that segment of my usefulness is over.

This past week I was recognized by two otherwise total strangers as I went about my day.  One lady recognized me and took several minutes to pinpoint where she knew me.  I gave her several choices: PTA, Strawberry Days, church?  Nope.  Finally she asked me, almost delightedly, "Did your kids swim?"  Of course, that was where she knew me.  I was the "Bullpen lady".  It's been two summers now since I did that.

The other was a gal that waited on The boy and I over one of our recent lunch dates and she knew immediately where she knew me from too--PTA at Central elementary.  "Do you have any other kids at Central?" she asked.  I had to tell her nope, that my baby was graduating from high school this week.  It's been MANY years since I did PTA at Central...but she knew me from that.

What kind of impact will I have now that this stage of my life is over?

That is really a rhetorical questions, as I am sure things will come to the surface and I'll figure out what to do next.  I do work.  I still go to church,  though in teaching Primary kids my reach is certainly shorter in distance and influence.  I will begin to work at the temple in another week.  But if I'm not a full time MOM, what am I really?

These, and other tough questions, pull doubt into my mind over my purpose and influence.  I know I will never lead a Fortune 500 Company, nor will I headline a TED talk presentation anytime soon.  My goodness, I rarely have more readers here than my own mother and a handful of dedicated (though a little bored) friends.  Is what I'm doing enough?  Is what I HAVE done enough?

I guess those questions will play out as The Girl and The Boy move on in their own lives and I can sit back and see the influence they have on others around them.  I'll bask in the reflected light they give off.  And that light will warm my heart like the sun.  I suppose I need to give it time.

Separation Anxiety

For his Spring Break, The Boy drove himself and his best buddy to California to send some time with the grandparents, fix a truck problem with Grandpa and do a little sight seeing.  Genius Golfer and I were both working, so off he went: alone and unchaperoned by a parent or guardian.

I thought I was ready for his transition to adulthood.  He'll be 18 at the end of the month.  He was driving through Las Vegas, due to snow over Donner Pass.  I thought I was ready.  I wasn't completely.

His week went great.  The driving was safe. He had a great time.  He check in with me throughout the week.  But, boy, did I miss him!

It isn't like it was with The Girl.  He rarely spends the WHOLE day on a weekend with me.  Maybe  a few hours if he is helping me with a project.  The Girl sometimes would spend the whole day with me.  It isn't that.

I'm struggling to put my finger on it, but I believe it rides on the fear that he no longer needs me.  The Girl doesn't really either, so this uselessness of a mother is a new sensation for me.  I feel like they have needed me for 18-ish years to this point.  Suddenly, they don't.  It makes me feel a little lost.

Don't get me wrong, I want them to be responsible adults.  I just didn't want it to happen so soon.

They have been the most fun as teenagers.  And I cannot believe how quickly that segment of their lives has blown past me.  I was just getting used to the phase they were in, and all of a sudden they have moved on.

Like it or not, my purpose is shifting.

I need to find a way to make the rest of my life as satisfying as my stint as a mom.

Signs of Age

This past week was one of gaining personal recognition and gratitude for miracles given by priesthood blessing.  You may not know but I work at a place that does medical equipment for hospice patients--a hospice nurse calls us and orders a hospital bed, wheelchair, etc. and our drivers deliver it to the patient.  But this week, I felt like the tables got turned and I was nearly the patient.

Tuesday I went to work like normal but sometime that morning I saw a wheelchair in the warehouse that wasn't where it was supposed to be.  So I bent over it and had every intention of lifting it up tot he shelf where it belonged.  Just as I began to lift, I heard/felt a ripping--much like when you tear paper towels apart.  It instantly caused me to drop the chair where it was before.  I felt horrible.  I have told the drivers to be careful how they lift things all the time--use your legs!--and here I did exactly the opposite of my own advice.  I thought "how dumb?!" and figured I would have to tough it out.  But the longer I stayed at work--I had two weeks of embroidery I was hoping to catch up on--the worse I felt.  It wasn't just tenderness.  It was really sore and the pain started shooting down my left leg. I began to worry that I had bulged a disc out of my spine, or worse --whatever might be worse?! I had texted my husband to come straight to my office to give me a blessing--thinking he would be home sooner than I'd be done.  But by 3:00 he hadn't responded yet, so in desperation, I asked my boss and a co-worker to give me a blessing before I went home. 

Luckily, for me, I do work with a bunch of returned missionaries and these two men were available and ready to do this for me.  One did the anointing and then my boss gave me a blessing.  It wasn't a blessing for instant healing, but one that promised me no major damage had occurred, but that I had to do what I could to make things better for myself too. In the blessing he told met hat I would be able to find relief as I took myself out of situations that caused me stress.  That I would be able to find relief from mediation and help from resting my body.  It was a comfortable feeling as he finished.  I knew it wasn't going to be well instantly, but that I would eventually be fine.

By the time I got home, I was hurting SO bad that I couldn't take my own shoes off.  I laid myself over the yoga ball in the family room.  I was relieved by stretching my back around the ball, but then I couldn't get up by myself once I was done laying over it.  I finally took a big ibuprofen and an old generic a pain killer left over from a  dental visit or something years ago--and went to bed very early.  The next morning I couldn't get out of bed. My husband told me to get into the doctor, maybe he cold prescribe a muscle relaxer and something for the pain.  I called the office about 9 AM but the scheduling secretary wasn't available--so I left a message.  My doctor was the Urgent Care guy that day, so the scheduler for the office told me to come on in.  I did as quickly as I could and once there, I had to wait for about 30 minutes.  I was standing then tried sitting, but either position was horrendously painful.  I was close to tear as I felt the muscle in my back spazaming and causing pain down my leg.  Finally I got in to see the Doctor and laid myself across the exam table to relieve the pressure on my lower back. When he finally came in, he tried applying pressure in a couple of spots on my back and sent me through the ceiling a couple times.  He quickly prescribed a muscle relaxer, a steroid, a pain killer and double checked that I had a 800 mg Ibuprofan to take.  He also gave me a referral to a physical therapist.

I got home after dropping off the prescriptions and immediately laid on the bed.  I called the physical therapist's office and they had a cancellation that afternoon, so I took it.  The therapist ended up being the same guy that worked on my shoulder after I did that surgery back in 2006, Chad. He started me off with some STEM and heat.  15 minutes of that was the best I'd felt for nearly 2 days.  Then he came in and did some stretching and massaged on the area.  Then put me on a ice pack and sent me home with some small exercises I need to do to not only heal my hurting back, but to strengthen the lower interior ab muscles that support my back too. 

I took the meds that my hubz had picked up for me and went to bed. I slept through the night and then most of Thursday too.  I was in bed nearly all the day--only moving to do the exercises and go to the bathroom.  I haven't slept that long--or that well--in ages.  I was careful to take the meds are prescribed and I started to believe that I might live. 

I woke up Friday feeling better than I had all week. I went to work, on the meds, but I knew I couldn't lift or man-handle things in the warehouse, or the UPS or FedEx shipments, etc.  I was even very careful how I was sitting at my desk, or getting up and down from the chair or the embroidery machines.  I worked a full day and went hoe about 4:30 or so.  I did have to ask for help a few times, but I know that it is OK to ask for help when you need it.

Now, I know that some of the relief I have felt comes directly from the medications the doctor ordered, and other relief may have come from the electrical impulses from the STEM, or the heat and ice.  While I do think those were all helpful, I have a strong feeling that the priesthood blessings was what has helped me get back to "nearly normal" this fast.  I know the Lord cares about my health and the functionality of my body as it is necessary to my work.  I know that He can bless me to be healed in an instant.  But this time I needed to feel some understanding for people who do live in pain.  Luckily for me, He also knows me enough to know that too much demanded patience would put me over the top.  He has begun this process of healing for me, but is giving me the time to learn to be more compassionate to others and to my own self--where my body isn't doing things as fast as I'd like.

This healing process will be steady and over a longer period of time that just a few days, but I'm on the mend and getting back to what I do every day.  Simply getting out of bed without help is a plus.  Being able to tie my shoes or pick up something on the floor is a big deal after how badly I hurt last week.  So that was the extent of my story this week.  I wish we could arrange a few days of bed rest to just catchup on sleep every couple of months or so, but that isn't real life.  I am grateful for the rest I've had and for the relief the meds and the therapy have given me.  Now to do the hard work of remembering these little exercises and condition my back muscles and core muscles to avoid this again.

 

Getting older really sucks.

Let's Do the Time Warp, Again

This is the longest I have stayed away from posting.  I'm not really sorry, to be honest.  I have needed the break mentally, and scheduling-wise.  But I didn't mean for it to be quite so long.

Since we last chatted, I have had a new title given me at work.  I've gone from the Customer service rep to now the Administrative Assistant/Office Manager.  I've worked more hours in the last 6-8 weeks than I have in all my weeks of work ever.  I'm physically exhausted at the end of the day and my brain is even more tired.  If that's possible.

Since we last chatted, The Girl has been on her mission--still--but she's now been gone for 6 months.  It has been the longest and the fastest six months ever.  But she's doing great.  So I can live with that.

Since we last chatted, The Boy has decided he wants to go to Dixie State for a year before serving a  mission himself.  He wants to be were there is warmer weather--though he has never lived through a July or August in St. George Utah yet.  He wants to golf year round, so there you go. Dixie it is for him.

Since we last chatted, the men in my house are getting weirder by the minute.  Genius Golfer has decided to grow hi hair until The Girl gets home.  The gal that cuts my hair called his do a "skullet" from my description of it.  Spot on, I'd say.

 

 Ewww.


Since we last chatted, The Boy has a good buggy names, Collin, who has decided to spend his Spring Break with The boy on a California trip to see grandparents, and fix an oil leaking seal on his truck.   Good thing they can entertain themselves.  Watch out, Grandma and Grandpa.

Since we last chatted, Genius Golfer had a second EGD done.  This one was to confirm what the first one in Janaaury found and allegedly  fixed.  This time, however, GG came out of the anesthesia with euphoric calls of "I LOVE GOLF!!!"  Yep, I know where I rank.

And since we last chatted, I have discovered I needed more glasses than the cheaper Dollar Store Reader/Cheaters.  I have full fledged glasses now.  Worse yet, they are progressive bifocals. I'm still getting sued to them, and I have a hard time driving with them, but it could be worse.  Right?  Please tell em it could be worse.

 That should keep you caught up for a while.  I'm hoping to get back into the groove of writing regularly.  But I don't want to make any promises.

My Girl, My Girl, My Girl, Talking 'Bout My Girl

This girl right here, is The Girl.  She is my older child and is currently serving as a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day saints in Illinois, speaking Spanish.  She is learning a lot, teaching more and more, relying on the Lord for strength, wisdom, and understanding. And loving every minute of it.

I'm thrilled for her.

But I miss her too.

Life Long Learning

This week I had a chance to sing with a women's choir as part of our stake's Women's Conference at church.  Sister Carole Stephens, the 1st counselor in the LDS General Relief Society presidency was our guest speaker.  The choir sang an arrangement of "The Lord is my Light".  The conference was terrific, and the song went well.  But I learned something that touched me deeply, even befor ethe openingprayer was offered.

I sat with a dear friend who, professionally, is a licensed clinical social worker. In the short time we had before and after the choir warm up and final run through Saturday morning, she and I exchanged details on the kids, families, husbands, work.  She finally asked me how I was doing.  She didn't ask like it w as throw away question. She asked like it was what all the other answers I had just given hinged on.  She was asking how I was doing, emotionally, spiritually, intellectually.

After explaining that I had gotten some medical help to get my hormone levels in check and that seemed to be going well, she asked some other deep questions.  Things that are prevalent in this stage of my life--children becoming adults, becoming "empty-nesters" sooner than later, shifts in responsibility changes in my work and volunteer life, and the changes that happen to a couple after being married for 20+ years.

Because she is my friend, I never thought she was holding my life under a microscope and looking at it for merely professional curiosity.  Because I trust her, I told her what was what.  I didn't mince words and I didn't really hold back.  This isn't what I thought my life would be at this stage of it.  I didn't anticipate the emotional heart ache I would have as my kids got to the edge of adulthood and took their first steps into the abyss.  I told her I had anxiety of being "just a couple" again after the years of beings a "family" at home.  She looked at me with compassion and understanding.

She is just ahead of me int he grand scheme of things.  Her eldest child is married and is living in another state while her daughter's husband is in school and she is working full time as a nurse.  Her middle child is attending a university nearby but no longer living at home.  And her youngest is nearing the end of high school and headed off to college and missionary service soon as well.  She gets what I am talking about.  She had been there, done that.  And she had a mother's heart.  She knows what I am feeling.

She gave me some great advice about how to protect my heart and let the kids grow up without going crazy without them.  She gave me a wonderful analogy too.  She said that she never understood why the scriptures tell us to "pray always" but we are taught that God knows our desires and our concerns and our thoughts.  Why do we need to tell Him what is going on in our lives, when he already knows it all?

She theorized that since we know our Heavenly Father is a wonderful parent--perfect, even--and He has had similar experiences that we are having now, He still wants to communicate with us and invites us to pray always so we can initiate that communication.  He will bless us, no matter what.  But He waits for us to ask for His help.  He isn't going to force Himself on us.

A good earthly parent wants to let their adult children to live their own lives, and to make their own decisions.  But that good mortal parent also has had similar experiences and may even have great advice or instruction to give their child to help them avoid trouble or costly mistakes. However, a good parent gives their child space to decide for himself.  But if invited in, will gladly offer whatever they can to help. 

I understood that.  I know my mom used to say that her job was to raise us to be good, hard working, honest, self-sufficient people.  If she did her job, she'd eventually work herself out of that job.  Yet, no matter what I have going on, when I pick up the phone or type a quick email to ask her something or run something past her, she responds with love and warmth and gratitude for being included.  He advice is always stellar.  And then I wonder why I didn't think to ask her sooner.

Life is all about the leaning.  Some times that learning seems to be about the kids.  Other times that learning is for me.  This weekend, it was a lesson I needed to hear, and ponder and appreciate.

Lessons from Lorelai & Rory

Once we got Netflix this  fall, a friend immediately suggested I should watch a show called Gilmore Girls.  I hadn't heard of this show before.  It began on TV in about 2000 and ran for 7 seasons.  It is a story of Lorelai, an independent, single mother and her brilliant, Ivy League-determined daughter, Rory, as they navigate the social world of their small town, the mine-field laden extended family, romantic relationships and the world in general as they both grew up.  From my friend's description I figured I would likely enjoy it.

Likely is hardly the right word.  With Netlix, there are no commercials, so the hour long show on TV is whittled down to about 40 minutes.  This shortened length makes it easier to "binge watch" several episodes in a sitting.  Consequently I devoured this little critically acclaimed show that I had never head of before. 

I finished the final episode last night.  My dear friend who suggested it didn't take into account the fact that I just sent my only daughter off into the world.  The finally episode was essentially a send of for Rory as she graduated from Yale and headed into the "real" world.  Heart breaking for this mom.  It certainly made my heart ache for my own girl.  And yet, for all of the twists and turns Rory and her mom, Lorelai, face as she nears that precipice of adulthood I was overwhelmed with the peace that came from knowing MY daughter had the gospel of Jesus Christ to guide her in her decisions, she has the Holy Ghost to guide her, and she had a desire to do what God wants her to do.  Her life will never be as uncertain as Rory's...and her choices will be significantly more moral than most of Rory's or Lorelai's.

Still, entertainment isn't always a morality tale.  But we can learn from fictitious story lines.  We can extrapolate actual truths from the virtual choices facing the characters. And we can see consequences of choices made in a back believe situation that might give example without having to make the same choices ourselves.

I crammed 7 seasons of this show into about 3 months of TV watching, without having to watch network or cable  or satellite TV.  While I enjoyed the characters I was introduced to in this show, I am grateful I have a better actual set of co-stars and secondary characters in my life.  My choices may not make much of a screen play, but I recognize the joy I find from doing what is right.  I have seen struggles offer many lessons and the outcome of strength and peace that comes from bearing the struggles.

But that doesn't keep me from thinking I live in a western Stars Hollow at some times too.