Amazing Grace...

While I wait for my AMAZING sister to send me the AMAZING pictures from our AMAZING weekend I will share an AMAZING story with you about these...

Do you know what these are?

Perhaps you will recognize them in their original form...

Yes they looked like this until once upon a time last week when Paige and I went to spend the night at my sister's house. Being that it was her first night home from the hospital with her new baby, I wanted to be there to help. Of course it would have been better if our mom could have been there because Mom will do things like scrub the hard water stains out of your toilet bowl with a pumice stone when she comes to help with baby... I just went to bed (still exhausted from the all night labor and delivery party) and told my sister to wake me if she needed anything.

At two in the morning I was awakened, not by Laura, but by an urgent feeling that something was very wrong at home. It was a dark, desperate feeling that my family was in danger and I couldn't shake it. I contemplated waking Paige and rushing home as the feeling got stronger that my family was in danger... in danger of perishing in a fire. I paced the floor trying to completely wake up from what I decided must have been a bad nightmare, but I couldn't be comforted from the strong premonition of fire, danger, death and thoughts of Paige and I being left alone in the world. So I did the only thing I could do and began to pray. I prayed for my family's protection, I prayed for comfort and I prayed that everything would be okay.

Meanwhile back at home...

Around two-thirty in the morning (the very hour that I was praying) Rick was suddenly awakened by a very faint beeping sound. The sound led him to the kitchen where he found that the dishwasher's extra heat setting had become jammed. The dishwasher blazed with the heat of a scorching oven and Rick felt very fortunate that he had been able to prevent it from bursting into flames.

(our once tall, slender plastic tumblers are now short, fat and warped and that white cup in front used to be clear with colored spots)

Our dishwasher is ruined, our dishes melted, but as you can see the babies are fine and our testimonies of a loving Heavenly Father, who will only give us the experiences we need for our profit and learning, are stronger than ever.

AMAZING!
***********
And HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my AMAZING, hard water stain scrubbing, super helping, much missed MOM! I love and miss you and hope you have an AMAZING day!

Note to self...

Dear Self,

I know you're all happy about being forty and all, and I really am glad that you're so well adjusted, I really am. But here's the thing, and I'll try to put this as gently as possible, you are not as young as you used to be. Therefore it is time that you start making better choices. I'm sorry but you cannot stay up all night helping your sister with her baby AND forget to take your thyroid medicine for a week. You cannot do it. One or the other maybe, but NOT BOTH. That is why you feel like death right now, just in case you were wondering.

And you especially can't do these things when you are planning to run off and act like a teenager with your BFF and sister this weekend. Do you want to drive off a ridge while you're headed down to the valley? Hmm? Because I'm thinking you'll make your family really mad at you if you do. So go take your medicine (you did finally pick it up I assume) and go take a nap and lets try harder to be more responsible shall we. Okay good.

Love always (even when you don't deserve it),

Yourself

My forever...

WRITERS WORKSHOP PROMPT: Tell us about your crush



The first crush I can remember was in seventh grade (I know there were others before that because I skipped right over the “boys have cooties” stage and started crushing on them right away) he asked me to “go with him” (well his friend asked for him) and I whole-heartedly agreed (he was so cute). Even though he dumped me for the next pretty young thing that moved in we seemed to keep this little crush thing going for each other for years. It was fun. Although we never went out again, (aside from the one summer night in high school when we made out. fun.) my heart would still flutter a bit when I saw him and I could tell by the expression on his face that his did too.

I don’t remember any high school crushes. No specifics anyway. I know there were many a boy that I thought was HOT (did we say “hot” back then? I can’t remember), many who I held at a glance, staring deeply before looking away (do you remember doing that? So fun.) But who did I crush on? Hey Heidi, did I crush on anyone in particular?

Yes I know I had high school boyfriends, but I can’t really say that we spent anytime crushing on each other. I normally met my beaus in class or at an event of some sort where we’d talk, become friends (sorta) then (in most cases) I’d ask them out, yes I am a very modern woman. I asked guys out, usually to dances, but sometimes to other places or events where we’d ensnare each other with our lips, becoming a “forever” couple for the next few weeks at least. Because my name is Jeanette and I am a kiss-o-holic (I almost said former, but I still love to kiss only now I limit my kissing to one feller) and I’m not afraid to admit that because there are worse things than being a kiss-o-holic, course there are better things too but whatever.

And to save myself from having to write another post to my girls and other young people who read this blog, let me just tell you that kissing is a very stupid reason to start a relationship. Get to know a guy first. Find out if you have anything in common besides kissing. Yes, that would be a very good idea.

But that’s neither here nor there because my biggest crush, the one that changed everything, came later in college when a young man walked past my desk and angels sang (they really did) they sang and I was hooked. He was all I wanted all I thought about. He made me want to hang up my kissing lips (for other fellers at least) and when I didn’t and kissed another boy from the Spanish class we shared I cried to my BFF Heidi, “But I like someone else in our class.”
“Who, Rick?” She guessed. Was I that transparent? Oh yes, I had it bad.

So I pulled myself up by my modern girl bootstraps and asked him out. Only this time I saved my kiss-o-holic lips for talking, laughing and never ending smiles. We didn’t kiss at all that night but when he held my hand in his I felt the surge of a thousand kisses, becoming his “forever” girl (in my heart) right there on the spot. It was the crush to end all crushes. A crush that I took with me when I went away to college, a crush that remained in my heart when I temporarily lost my way, and a crush that leapt right out of my chest when I returned to find his loving arms opened and waiting to take me in again.
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And the warmth in my cheeks as I write this post tells me that I really am his “forever” girl, still crushing on him 20 years later.

Of course it doesn't hurt that he's a great kisser too.

(our reunion kiss when he came up to see me at college. He drove all the way up to Idaho to spend the weekend with me. Hmm, seems he had it pretty bad too...)

Surrogate Grandma...

You must forgive me for being away,
I was busy having a baby...

Well, helping my sister have a baby that is.

And wow is he gorgeous.

So very,


very

Gorgeous!

Mama and baby are both doing very well...

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...but I'm tired. Waiting up all night for this little guy's grand entrance really did me in.

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Night all.

And welcome baby Amaron, we're so happy to finally meet you.

For my girls & any other young people who read this blog (but good for grown-up people too)...

"We learned about the media in class today." My teen daughters told me as we walked out to the car after church.

"Oh yeah?" I asked. "Did you learn about how bad it can be?"

"Yeah, and books too. Our teachers said that just because they don't have bad images doesn't mean that they're okay, words can be just as bad."

"I know, they're right." I said. "I just read a really bad book and they are absolutely right."



"Mom!" Both girls reprimanded (much like they did when I had a hickey) "Why'd you read it then?"

"I don't know, I shouldn't have, but it sucked me in."

It did too. It sucked me in from page one. Lolly Winston is a very talented author (I LOVE talented authors) I just wish she could share her talent without adding all of the extra unnecessary junk to it.

And while this book did help me to wake up and enjoy my relationship in a more plugged in, "I adore you more than anything else in this world" kind of way, I'm sure there are plenty of other good books out there that could have done the same thing without subjecting me to all of the other crap-o-la.

It's like the old cockroach in the soup analogy. The soup is quite delicious except for the dead cockroach that is floating in it, but just eat around that and it will be fine. And the soup (book) was good, very enjoyable indeed, that is if you don't count the dismembered bug legs that are now stuck in my teeth.

I don't like bug legs in my teeth, which is why I try to live by this creed:

13 We believe in being honest, true, chaste, benevolent, virtuous, and in doing good to all men; indeed, we may say that we follow the admonition of Paul—We believe all things, we hope all things, we have endured many things, and hope to be able to endure all things. If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things.

(taken from the Articles of Faith of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints)

Being close to the Spirit of God is far more important to me than picking through some old buggy stew. Besides there are so many other YUMMY, BUG-FREE SOUPS out there to choose from that are much more nutritious,

without the bad aftertaste.

Yesterday...

Watched Landon perform at Hebrews...

Awesome

Got this soundtrack in the mail...

Love it

Watched this movie with the fam...

Funny

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I liked yesterday. Yesterday was good.

Real life happy ending... (princesses need not apply)

If you are a regular reader of this here blog, you've probably figured out that I was very close to my dad, he was my confidant and I miss that, but I still have treasures from our time together, some of which are letters that I had written to him while away at college. I shared with him many things that were going on in my life at the time and it is so fun to go back and read the wisdom (or lack thereof) of my 20 year old mind. One of my favorite things to read about are my relationship ups and downs of the day. What I wrote about a certain Mr. Rick is my favorite, a testimony that I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be (not that I ever have to question that. He's the best thing that ever happened to me).

( This is the college stationary I made from a caricature my very talented roommate drew of me. I wish I still had the original because I love it, it looks just like me don'tcha think)

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Lets peak in on what this funny little girl had to say about her future mate shall we:

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Hi Dad-

I miss you so much. I love you more than anyone on this earth. Throughout my life I have felt so close to you. We have always been able to talk for hours about anything. Not many fathers and daughters can say that. I wouldn't trade my dad for anyone or anything...

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(we'll skip past the life lessons I was experiencing and the epiphanies about my relationship with the one who can't be named--remember my promise from an earlier post--so we can get to the good stuff)

.

...I had very real, deep, undeniable feelings about Rick and it is very hard to turn your back on something so real. I'm not saying that I will ever be with Rick again but I cannot deny that it was right. It wasn't just my foolish emotions that time, it was real. It is such a different feeling when it's real. It brings such a natural happiness (more stuff that can't be mentioned) I know what real God sent feelings can be with the right man and I will have that again someday...

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(more unmentionable and personal stuff)

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...I love you Dad. I love you with all of my heart. Thanks for being so wonderful. If you ever get down, remember how I feel about you and look at the person I've become and know that you did a good thing.

I love you always and admire you above all others.

Love Forever,

Jeanette

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I love this letter because it is a reminder of not only how much I loved my dad, but of how much I loved (and felt so deeply connected to) my Rick.

It makes me smile when I read it because everything worked out and we got our Happy Ending.

.

But I know it's very important not to take happy endings for granted. Happy endings need to be continually nurtured, evaluated and strengthened. Happy endings must be treated as a verb, it takes action, which is why I loved and didn't put down the smut filled book that I spoke of earlier. It woke me from the subtle slumber that kills happy endings-- quiet, no special effort-- complacency.

I woke up, AND OH THE TIME WE HAVE HAD...

We're like newlyweds embarking on that happy ending all over again.

I'll tell you more about it later. This post is already way too long... (but remember, don't read the book, it's really bad).

While the mice are away...

WRITERS WORKSHOP PROMPT: What will you be doing now that the kids are back in school?




"Guys, I'm eating junk and watching rubbish! You better come out and stop me!" ~Kevin, Home Alone.

We got cable TV at our house during my impressionable pre-teen years and I loved it. So many channels, so many movies, so many scrumptiously edgy music television stars. Yes I did want my MTV. But I also wanted what I shouldn't. I wanted to slide the lever on the control box up to the forbidden channels. I knew they contained rubbish unbecoming to a young mind and I so wanted to sneak a (itty, bitty) peak. And this curiosity wasn't limited to the television set, I wanted to read "chapter nine" books too (my sister and I called them this because it was always around the ninth chapter that things got steamy) the shame of it all.

But now that I'm older and far more particular about what I want floating around in my mind (I really do try to seek after good things) I have tried to abandon unbecoming stories on television and in books alike. I don't want to hear or read bad language and I'm not interested in seeing or reading the explicit details of one's (or two's) personal business, no more chapter nine books for me. So I'm a little ashamed to admit that while my kids have been away at school I have been reading smut (and eating junk too. I got LOTS of chocolate for my birthday).

I told you in my last post about the book that I can't recommend, in good conscience, but that I couldn't put down either. This book is full of explicit language (really bad), explicit "love" scenes (bad, bad) and horrible--fist clenching, teeth grinding, MADDENING-- infidelity (I just wanted to jump in there and strangle someone) and you my dear friends still, even after my careful warning, can't wait to hear the name of it...for shame.

So I, against my better judgement, will tell you...

It is called Happiness Sold Separately by Lolly Winston and I DO NOT RECOMMEND IT (but tomorrow I will tell you why I didn't put it down even though I should have, why I loved it, and how it has helped to make my marriage better than ever... all without giving away anything from the book of course).

Guilty as charged...

I don't have many guilty pleasures. I can say that rather confidently. I gave up soda years ago and by years I mean pre-marriage-- MANY YEARS, and I'm not much of a junk food junkie. I usually find it easy to turn a questionable TV show or turn off an "inappropriate" movie. And I can't tell you how many books I've put down due to language or other shady content, but I must confess that I have been away from blogging (one of my few guilty pleasures) for the last two days because of a very guilty pleasure, a book that I should have put down but didn't. I can't even tell you the name of it because I can't recommend it, in good conscience, because it is full 'o stuff, language and otherwise, that might offend you my dear readers.

So why bring it up, you ask? Because it's all I can think about at the moment. My life is temporarily intertwined with the characters and the events of their crazy mixed up lives that they've so kindly shared with me these past two days (yes, two days... it's that good. Would've read it in one if I could have).

And the best part is that it has changed me, this crazy guilty book that I can't recommend because of its crazy guiltiness. It shook me awake from the subtle fatigue that threatened to overpower me, running me straight into a ravine. I saw myself in the women in this book, so different than me yet somehow the same. In the most important ways, very much the same. And I woke up (at least in one particular area) Whew!

Don'tcha just love a good book?

P.S. If you really must know what it is leave a comment and I'll comment back, but be forewarned that it is at times disturbing, heart wrenching and maddening because it deals with life sorrows, INFIDELITY and the like in some (well more like great) DETAIL (so frustrating, so irritating... yet so thought provoking). But keep in mind that I DO NOT RECOMMEND IT. In good conscience anyway.

The Time Traveler's Wife...

The elderly women behind us... who talked throughout the whole movie (I thought the elder generation had been taught better than that) ... DIDN'T LIKE IT.
Our neighbors, who we ran into at the theater, thought it was "OKAY".
But I LOVED IT. Not only for the movie itself, but because of how it made me feel afterward. It's hard to describe the feelings I had, but as we drove home from the theater my perception of the world around me felt much different. I felt alive and light as I realized that my time here is meant to be experienced and enjoyed not controlled. I knew that this life experience is just a small moment in time and that there is so much to look forward to throughout the eternities.

And as if to confirm what I was feeling, during a quick stop at Walmart, I was visited by my very own special time traveler of sorts.

My dad's spirit came to visit me right there in the doughnut section, more powerfully than could ever be denied. I was overcome by the feelings of love that he poured over me and I sobbed quite uncontrollably amongst the other late night shoppers.

My dad's spirit testified to me that my thoughts were true, that there is so much more to this life and that we are all still very close together. There is no reason to fear or to be unhappy because we are together and this life is a wonderful part of our journey to forever.

I'm going to try to remember these feelings, to enjoy each moment and to search for the meaning in this my journey as I travel toward that place where time ends and forever begins.

If I had only known...

WRITERS WORKSHOP PROMPT: Your trip to the ER...

Next to my dad, my favorite place to be

I fell to the floor reeling in pain. Shuddering, sobbing, unable to be comforted. After months of trying to be a rock, stuffing, smothering and denying my feelings, I knew it was time to let go, it was time to cry.

"Go to the hospital." The prompting was precise and powerful. "Go to the hospital right now."

"Now?" I questioned. "But it's one in the morning. I can't go now." Though I remained inconsolable, I resolved to go to the hospital first thing the next morning during regular business hours. "Yes," I told myself, "I will spend the whole day there if I have to. It will be good."

My plan was confirmed by an early morning phone call from my mom, "Come to the hospital." She pleaded, "I need you here."

I spent the entire day at the hospital, just as I had planed to the night before, but it was too late. Too late for visiting, too late for hugs, too late for the exchange of "I love yous". My dad had slipped into unconsciousness, machines postponing the inevitable so that we could say our goodbyes, goodbyes that he could no longer hear.

It wasn't until later that I learned from a nurse that had cared for my dad the night before, that he had been awake and alert the very hour that I had felt prompted to go there. During that time he had spoken of his love for his family and his sorrow at having to leave us. A priceless conversation that I missed because visiting hours were over. I didn't know that I could have had access to my father at any time via the emergency room entrance.

It's the trip that I didn't take to the ER that I will always regret, but because of eternal families I know that I'll see my dad again, and oh the catching up we'll do. Starting with the conversation I missed that night in the hospital so many years before.

I cannot tell a lie...

"Ooo, you got a Sequoia." My neighbor said in a hoity toity voice.

"I didn't realize it was a "Sequoia" " I told her in the same hoity toity way. "Had I known it was a "Sequoia" I would have never gotten it."

(I really don't think it is a "Sequoia" do you)

I'm generally not a flashy person. I don't particularly like to draw attention to myself, especially with "hoity toity" things. So I can no longer go on with pretending that I got a Mercedes for my birthday. Can't do it. Even though it makes me sick that the cute little Mercedes (pictured in the previous post) just sits parked at our storage units year after year, never being driven or enjoyed by anyone. It's such a shame and if the owner wanted to give it to me I certainly wouldn't snub her. No I wouldn't. But as of late she hasn't done any such thing and I DID NOT get it for my birthday.

But I did get this...

Remember this bag containing the present that Marlee got me? Well I'm ready to reveal its contents.

A year or so ago, a lovely lady from my writers group announced that her daughter-in-law had received a book deal. Hooray (we writers love stories like that)! So when I recently found out that her debut novel had made it onto the NY Times best seller list and had been picked up by Disney for the movie rights, I was so excited for her and couldn't wait to read it. Knowing this, Marlee bought it for me for my birthday (love that girl).

It's called "Wings" and it's a fantasy about a young teen who learns that she is a faerie. It is a great story (suitable for teens to read) and I believe it is part of a four book series. Fun. It even has the whole "Edward" vs "Jacob" love triangle going which has led to some fun debates with Miss Marlee. It's not that I don't agree with her, I like the boy she likes too, it's just that I think a relationship with the other guy makes more sense and I'm all about finding the best mate for the long haul.

Now that the kids are in school it's the perfect time to get to reading so check it out today. I think you'll love it.

As for me, it's time that I get to writing. A book deal would be FABULOUS! So much better than a Mercedes.

Thank you...

I want to thank everyone for making my birthday so lovely...
Thank you for the lunch date
Thank you for the dinner date
Thank you for the surprise party
Thank you for all of the dark chocolate (yum)
Thank you for the pull-up bar (can't wait to use it)
Thank you for the shoe organizer (you know I needed that)
And I want to especially thank you for...

My new ride!

You really shouldn't have, but I'm glad you did!

I made it...

My dad worked with paint. A sign man by trade, an artist by gift. So when he showed up to work wearing brown dress pants and a crisp white shirt I was confused, “Why are you all dressed up?” I asked.

A doctor’s appointment, and a diagnosis. He had dressed up for Leukemia and less than eight months later, at the age of 48 he was gone. Because of this, I treat every year that I’m given as a gift. My birthdays are presents in and of themselves, they bring me joy.

And today is no exception, my most exciting year yet, FORTY. I can’t believe it’s finally here and I can’t begin to explain the exhilaration I feel from reaching this milestone.

Forty is the opening line to the second chapter of my life. I loved my first chapter, but I don’t mourn its loss. I remember it with fondness and reflect on its lessons, but I was never meant to stay there. If I waste one moment crying about no longer being “young” I’ll miss the incredible road that lies ahead. Today, just as it has every year since my birth, marks the first day of the rest of my life. The first day of my fortieth year and you can bet it’s going to be…
FABULOUS!!!

Here we go again...

Today it was back to school for the Sisters Four. The results are still coming in as to how the day went but so far the verdicts have ranged from,
"School was awesome! I'm so glad to be back!" To "Oh my gosh! Can you P-lease home school me?!"

So fun and only nine more months of this to go. Yippy!

And for the record, the world would have to be in an apocalyptic state or something close to it before I would ever home school. I'm just saying.

Count to ten before posting...

It started with one sentence. One sentence that I carelessly threw into the air, sending my life into a tailspin. One sentence that drove me to declare, "I must quit blogging forever." Or at least limit my posts to cute stories of the puppies, kittens and small children with dirty faces variety.

One sentence, undetectable to any one else, that made me learn the strength of words and doubt the strength of me.

One sentence that made me cry unto the Lord, "I don't like myself right now. Please show unto me my worth. For without self worth I am USELESS. I can't accomplish anything of value in this life if I don't love me first. Please show me how to love ME."

It was several sentences found in the Old Testament that beckoned me. Sentences that I nearly passed over before being told, "No go back and read the verses underlined in red." The prompting was strong so I obeyed. It was several sentences, His sentences, that stilled my breath and made me weep.

I am His. I have worth.

And I will try to never be careless again.

Read between the lines...

“You wrote about your ex-boyfriends?” He asked. “Are you sure there’s not a cryptic message in there?”

“You obviously didn’t read what I wrote.” I laughed. “That would be some cryptic message.”

Dear ex-boyfriend(s),

We had a relationship made for TV, maybe not Jerry Springer worthy, but a shoo-in for Dr. Phil.
We made each other miserable and I cried a lot.
Life (true life, happy life) for each of us began the moment we broke up.
In other words… I love you.
Call me (867-5309)

Jeanette

I then snuggled up to the true love of my life and said, “Here’s a cryptic message. What does this mean to you?”

Yadda, yadda, yadda… He went to bed with no more worries and a smile on his face.

Man I love that guy.

So here’s my new message:

Dear ex-boyfriend(s),

I have deleted all reference to you on my blog (even though my husband told me not to after reading my posts because he says I’m an amazing writer—I like hearing that from him).
And I promise never to mention you again, even if it fits perfectly into my story, because I certainly don’t want to be accused of anything shady ( and or therapy worthy).
But because each chapter of my life flows into the next, making me who I am—I can’t promise that you will never show up in one of my novels, but I will try to make you the handsome antagonist instead of the grizzly ogre because I’m nice like that.

.

Jeanette

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Life ain't nothin' if it ain't interesting.

So very, very interesting.

I wanna be sedated...

WRITER'S WORKSHOP: What are you afraid of...




“I can’t believe I’m here with you.” It was about the third time he had said it in ten minutes time. Although I loved this boy for loving me so, I’m afraid I didn’t love him like that. But still it was flattering to hear him carry on about me that way.

Summer school had brought us together (I wasn’t a bad kid, a release time seminary class had shorted my credits) and because I did love Mike, as a friend, I accepted his offer to drive me home, with the bonus of a quick game of pool with some friends.

It was a fun afternoon but soon the words “I can’t believe I’m here with you.” Flooded my mind as I found myself riding in a car with Mike and his darling little pot-head friends. Riding in a car with his darling little pot-head friends who were engaged in the act of filling their darling little heads with pot I might add.

Visions of being arrested and having to explain to my parents just when and why I had crossed over to the dark side of drug use plagued my thoughts until I was dropped safely on my doorstep without further incident, ending my short lived drug habit once and for all.

I am fortunate to say that I was never tempted by drug use because I hate normal medicine let alone something illegal and mysterious. So I honestly don’t know what it’s like to feel stoned. But from what I’ve witnessed from others, it seems at times to cause a pretty laid back, carefree view of life.

Part of this assumption comes from the experience of watching a group of semi-nude hippies dance in a fountain at a museum or visitors center of some sort (I can’t remember the details) while traveling back east with my family when I was young. If dancing in the fountain of a public landmark with your clothes hanging off isn’t carefree, well then I just don’t know what is.

And I have to admit that there is a part of me that longs for that kind of spontaneous, albeit ridiculous, behavior (minus the lack of clothing). I want to be a shoulder shrugging, “it’s all good” saying kind of girl (not in all things mind you, just those that hold me back). Because the thing that I’m most afraid of is being too afraid. Too afraid to go after my dreams, too afraid to be authentically me, and too afraid to live MY life. MY LIFE. Mine, no one else’s, just mine.

So I’ve decided to try to adopt this carefree, laid back way of thinking. If I bare too much of myself in writing I won’t care… It’s all-good. Make a fool of myself in some way, don’t care… It’s all-good. And for heaven sakes I am going to stop worrying about EVERYONE else’s feelings in EVERYTHING I do because… IT’S ALL GOOD (no I have not become callous or jaded, but sometimes I think I should because I am waaay too extreme when it comes to worrying about offending other people. COO- KOO).

So if you happen to see me dancing in a fountain (with clothes securely fastened) don’t be alarmed, and know that I’m not crazy… I’M JUST HIGH (but only on life, and hold the munchies please)

.…if you see me dancing in a fountain semi-nude, please call for help.

My once upon a time...

I am a storyteller. It’s what I love, part of who I am. Sometimes it surprises me, when the words flow out, “Who said that?” I wonder.

I am a storyteller. So when I blog I have a hard time making simple statements like, “Hey, guess what… my closets are really messy and I need to clean them.” Or, “My house is really depressing me right now and I don’t know what to do.” I bring it to you in story form because that sets my writing gene heart (from my grandma) all a twitter. It brings me joy.

I am a storyteller. But all of my stories are true. They all come from actual events that have shaped my life. I put myself into every word, which is why I sometimes feel uneasy about what I share.

I wish that wasn’t so. I wish I didn’t worry about it at all. Because truth be told, I would love nothing more than to be able to share my entire life story with you, every word, every event. Because it is a good story, a story that has brought me to this time of strength and happiness, a story of faith and hope.

If I felt like it wasn’t too much to share, I’d tell you that I have had a deep love for my Savior my entire life. I seem to have been born with it and it has never left me. But with this deep love and conviction came much opposition in my life, Satan has been tireless in his desire to destroy me. I would tell you that if I could.

If it wasn’t too much, I’d tell you that there were times that I suffered bitterly because of this opposition. I’d even share with you the dark hour of my eighteenth year when, with razor in hand, I locked myself in the bathroom ready to bid farewell to my pain. I would tell you that hopelessness had brought me to that state, but that I was spared when my parents returned home from the store at the very moment they needed to, and that hearing my Dad’s voice from the kitchen brought me to my knees. I could never hurt him that way.

I’d share with you, if it wasn’t too much, that through all of my trials my Savior has never forgotten me. He has fought for me and I have clung to His strength. I would tell you that it is because of His atoning sacrifice that I am here today, that it is because of Him the title of my blog is Bliss, and that because of Him I am full of hope and thanksgiving. He helps me through my darkest trials and daily stumbles. He makes me whole.

If I could I would tell you to have joy today and hope for tomorrow.
Because if I had given up on my tomorrows…
Just look what I would have missed.

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You're looking at the former elementary school Bar-Hang Master...

I have a confession to make, I didn’t workout at all while in Colorado. Unless of course you count my obsession with this pull-up bar.

I am in LOVE with this pull-up bar and I must have one of my very own. I asked Rick again last night if I could, “Please, please, please have a pull-up bar for my birthday.”

Of course he said yes and now I’m even more excited for my birthday to get here than I was before. Just one more week till pull-up bliss and I can’t wait.

...But even with my recent lack of working out I am proud to announce that with one week left to go before my BIG day, I AM BIKINI READY. Quite an accomplishment I know. To be honest I didn’t think I would ever get there, I have birthed six children after all, but after visiting the amusement/ water park in Denver and seeing the many bikini clad women/ girls walking around I realized that all of my crunches have just been a big old waste of time because... I HAVE BEEN BIKINI READY ALL ALONG.

Apparently bare, pot bellied midriffs are all the rage right now.

Who knew…