This Ship. . .

The ship of my life may or may not be sailing on calm and amiable seas.

The challenging days of my existence may or may not be bright and promising.
Stormy or sunny days, glorious or lonely nights, I maintain an attitude of gratitude.
If I insist on being pessimistic, there is always tomorrow.
Today I am blessed.
--Maya Angelou

Faith From Afar

This week, I've been thinking a lot about people who have faith--people who have faith in themselves, faith in God, and faith in a perfect plan of happiness. It's amazing to witness faith in action. To see how it changes people, fills difficult times with more peace and hope, and helps provide a joyful perspective when the faithless would only see sorrow.

I've been attending my ward for a year now. It has been a great blessing in my life and has been an instrument in helping to build my own faith--a faith that isn't yet perfect, but is increasing one little drip drop at a time. The past few months, I've watched a young family in our ward face a difficult and life-changing trial. I've watched from afar. I've been amazed from afar. I've prayed for them from afar. And my faith has grown. That's a great gift to offer someone--to help them increase their faith through your example--unknowingly. And so, today, I offer my thanks from afar.

To read their story (prepared with a tissue and ready for some new drip drops of faith) click HERE.

To vote for Tiffany to win a bit of much deserved pampering, click here.

Don't Cry Over Spilt Cheerios

I should have known what I was in for today when first thing this morning I spilled an entire box of Cheerios on our kitchen floor. I had a personnel issue and didn't run this morning. My outfit was less than stellar. Time seemed to be dragging. At about 4:30, I closed my office door (very unusual) and called Lori. I vented. I cried. I told her I was tired and grumpy. Sometimes I confide in her because she's the only person who's had my job and lived to tell about it. She always offers a sympathetic ear and then, instead of wallowing with me--she gives me a bit of perspective so I can get on with the goodness that is my life. I've learned that semi-yucky days make you more grateful for all the good days. I can't wait for tomorrow.

A Weekly Reminder

Sundays and our services act as a weekly reminder. I know you're all hoping for some inspiring spiritual message. Some might be expecting a commentary on a deep doctrinal gospel topic or a narrative focusing on my recent enlightenment. Well, I've been enlightened all right. . .but probably not in the way you all might expect. You will recall that after over 10 years of attending singles wards, I recently (the last six months) made the move to our family ward. I can't tell you how much I love it. I love the meetings. I love the people. I love the spirit of our ward. It has been a great experience. It has also been an eye-opening one. You see--I'm finally beginning to understand from whence that glazed (I'm going to lose it any minute) look of motherhood comes. Its origins are apparent through the course of our 3 hour meetings. It starts with the process of readying the troops for Sabbath presentation. It comes from the weeping and wailing just outside the nursery doors. It continues when you are hunted down because your 3 year old has a poopy diaper. Shoot--Sarah forgot to tell you that she has a talk in primary today. At some point you realize that your skirt is sticking to the chair--perfect--a blog of grape jelly on your butt & your scriptures are now decorated with an inspired crayon. After battling through Sunday School with a wiggly 1 year old, you've undoubtedly exposed yourself because your skirt has been scootching up and your shirt scootching down. You don't really care. The real challenge comes with having Sacrament meeting last. Who would do such a thing to an innocent & exhausted parent? The once perfectly placed hair of your children is now in complete disarray. You don't care. You can't remember the last time you sat next to your spouse & you know the only thing keeping you from complete mutiny within the ranks is a tupperware container of Cheerios that you considered eating in RS because you skipped breakfast to hem your husband's pants. After another hour of threatening, praying, deep breathing, and endless distraction, you realize you can't remember anything said--BUT you are grateful. Grateful to have survived another Sunday. . .and wondering who the girl on the back row is & why she's laughing.