Identity Crisis?

You might not know it, but I am an educated person. I have traveled Europe. I have acted in a number of plays, and even helped direct a few. I used to think it impossible to drive to the school or store if I weren't "fully dressed" (including that smile).

However, fifteen years and six pregnancies later, I have taken on a secret identity: I can be found wearing the same mis-matched scrubs I slept in --to drop the children off at school. My hair has always had a mind of its own, but these days I don't bother to tame it before making the "drop-off." I have even walked Millie into her class room in my bargain-pink- floral -granny-slippers from Big Lots. I am offering $0.50 incentives to my third born for getting ready for school without being nagged. I have dared to wear shoes to church without nylons (partly because Abbie borrowed them and find them). My baby sometimes has gunkus in his nose and crumbs on his clothes and I still take him in public, and kiss his messy face. When asked about "maturation topics" I hardly blink before I give an honest and (fairly) open response.

I no longer feel that praying can only be done on my knees, in private.

I wonder if my Secret Identity will become my Only Identity?

In some ways it might not be too bad.

Maybe I'll change it up a little with some circus scrubs or pink floral ones to match my slippers --only if I find them on clearance though.

At least my secret identity is a bit more "flexible."

A Bit of Rambling from a Sleepless Mom

"We are doing all we can, Father in Heaven, to reach to heaven," Elder Holland said during the dedicatory prayer. "We ask Thee with great affection, loyalty and love that Thou would bring heaven down to us. We ask that Thou would receive us here, as we stand tip-toe to enter Thy presence, feel Thy Spirit and build Thy kingdom."

Spoken to the Saints in Rwanda, Elder Holland's comments were stirring. Ever since I read them in the Sept. 5th edition of the Church News, I have thought about his trip and the language he used. And now, after hearing his conference message on the Book of Mormon, and having recently studied and taught his April message, I believe this apostle was given the "gift of tongues." But rather than praise this St. George boy, I feel a need to praise his maker; Heavenly Father's love and awareness are more apparent because of this man's ability to speak to a variety of people, in their own love language.

After a long afternoon of piano, karate, dinner, grocery shopping, homework pleadings, and neighbor-children-keeping, I came across this obituary in the Deseret News (lest you think I sat down to read it, (or had any such leisurely moment), I was picking the paper up off the stove where my oldest had discarded it after devouring that day's Sports Section). I feel a kind of silly- almost moral--obligation to read the obituaries as often as I can,--to be mindful of families who are struggling. I'm always a bit more uncomfortable when I come across a person whose birth year is anywhere near my parents'.

James Richard McGhie Pearce

James Richard McGhie Pearce 1940 ~ 2009 James Richard McGhie Pearce died peacefully at home after meeting the challenges of ALS with optimism and faith.He was born May 2, 1940 to Richard Obra and Mary Isabella McGhie Pearce in Salt Lake City. During elementary school and part of junior high, he attended Stewart School on the U of U campus, graduating from East High School and the University of Utah, where he was affiliated with Sigma Chi fraternity. He married Virginia Hinckley September 10, 1965 in the Salt Lake Temple. They enjoyed, cared for, and loved each other immensely. Virginia and their family are grateful for thousands and thousands of priceless memories with Jim. (see more at http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/deseretnews/obituary)


As I skimmed through the article, I realized that this was President Hinckley's Son-In-Law. Brother Pearce is married to Virgina, the same Virginia who I watched give talks, and listened to on tape. I have also read many of Virginia's books and talks. She somehow speaks my language. And thank goodness. I have learned more about becoming more because I have read what she has written.

And so, on this cold, windy Autumn morning, I sit to gather my oldest children into the family room and around the fireplace. We will begin another day with sleepy scripture study --grateful for our warm home, indebted to the Believers who have sought their God, and written down His answers.

Our State Fair....

was a [pretty] great State Fair!

We had a super time at the fair in late September. We'd rented the old musical from the library and watched it and sang along, all the way to SLC. I don't remember ever having been to a state fair before --is that possible? Last year we celebrated Little Louisa's birthday at the County Fair, but this was a first (unless I am missing something from my childhood memories (which is entirely possible).

Max and Sam were enchanted by the livestock,

Checking out the pigs


Of all the livestock --we liked this brand the best.
Millie loved the rides,
Zach and Abbie enjoyed the food, and I was pleased as punch just to have an evening all together and look at the displays (Star kept his promise to have his phone turned off).


Can you see Mill's delight?


Why would one willingly submit to such a ride? Does that look fun?

It looks like Sam was pretty impressed with the displays as well.

Some Catch-up (not Ketsup)

My blue-eyed boys (don't adjust your glasses --this one's just blurry for some reason)
On the first Saturday in September, my third born, Samuel Wells Hall was baptized by his Daddy.

Prideful? Perhaps a bit
Sam was ready and waiting for this big day. He was pleased with the program, (it featured a musical number by Abbie, Eliza and Madeleine; a talk given by Zach; and stories from Mom and Uncle Jed; Aunt Anita played the piano, and we all sang) he was peaceful about his decision. And when my Sam is at peace -- I am at peace. Grandma Hall was in town for Aunt Susie's birthday, and our faithful Aunt Lynda and Uncle Chuck attended (how could we hold a true Wells gathering without them?)

Some loyal supporters

Susie happily enjoying the luncheon afterward
We missed our Chicago and Vegas cousins, and especially our missionary grandparents, but they sent special notes, and loving well wishes. What a support group we have!

Receiving his scripture surprise (his eyes are closed in this one)

"Just what I wanted!"

More Bad News for Sinners

This morning in scripture study I discovered yet another reason to keep my "ducks in a row" as it were. If I don't, I might become like those in the last days mentioned in 2 Timothy 3: 2-4.

Not only would I run the risk of being "covetous, unholy, proud, disobedient to parents (I thought Star had just thrown that one in there for the sleepy children, but it's really there) unthankful, and fierce, but INCONTINENT as well.

Now that's bad news.
I've not wanted to deal with incontinence --ever.

Guess I'll try and shape up.

The Little Optimists

Every March, right around my birthday, tiny yellow flowers push their way clear of the frozen ground at the Grandview house. Dad called them "the little optimists." I always liked that.

Thurs. morning Sam was suddenly quite sick. He had a fever and a severe headache. I kept him home with me until Millie's afternoon Kindergarten when the children's Motrin was doing its job well, and he wanted to join his friends for their daily soccer game. He didn't come out when I arrived to pickup everyone from their school day. The secretary ran over to the car and told me Sam had fallen asleep in the office. I found him curled up in a little ball, sweatshirt over his head. He was confused and feverish when I carried him out to the car.

Friday morning a friend who works at the school called and suggested I take him in to be seen. I almost didn't. After all, he was still eating some, wasn't sneezing or coughing, but just ache-y and miserable. I called and was able to get him right in. When I described the symptoms and my embarrassment at bringing him in, she said, "I'm glad you did, I'd put money in this being the Swine Flu." He was fairly good about the nasal swabs, and then we counted the change in my purse while we waited for the results.

It came back positive. She faxed a Rx for Tami-Flu to the only pharmacy willing to compound the meds into a syrup. They worked quickly to fill the order and reminded me to get this in him as soon as possible. We had caught the virus in the first 24-48 hours. By taking the Tami-Flu we could shorten the length and severity of his bout with it.

I marveled that all those many minor miracles had occurred that put this in motion. I was almost exhilarated as I snuggled him into my red chair, piled him with blankets and kissed his blonde head. I knew what to do, what to watch for, and felt I was being watched over.

I knew it was possible for others in this busy household to catch it, but I felt optimistic.
I felt like those little yellow flowers --ready to face the sun despite the challenge.


PS We are on day four. The fever is completely gone, as well as the headache, and fatigue.

He is back to his imaginative and active self. We of course were confined to home during church. Sam created a time machine and some brotherly mischief.

Sam is inside his Kirkland time machine. "Hey --let me in too."

"Oh yeah? Take that!"

Max's clever Mom finds a cool container for him too.
He's not falling for it. This is his disgusted look.

"Quit taking pictures of me Mom. I'm getting ready to pout..."

"Yep --here I go...doesn't matter how comfy a spot I've got. When a guy needs to mope, he's gotta do it now."

On the 7th week of School...

...I thought it high time I post the 1st day of school photos.






All four older children are together at Timpanogos Academy. The only time such a thing will happen due to the spacing of their grades.

Every time I have a SEP conference I feel so darn grateful for the faculty and staff over there. It's a wonderful chance for them to learn to be students and have such good values surrounding their experience.

Family...It's about....TIME

Remember when I wrote at Christmas that somehow, time was being spent on so many things, that my blogging (history keeping) would be a bit delayed?

I'm starting to wonder if I'll ever find that time again. I think it's gone Missing In Action. Supposedly we all have 24 hours in a day, 7 days in a week...but I don't think so. I recall trying to figure out how it was that Anita could get so much more accomplished in a day than I could. This was when our oldest children were very little, and she was writing her personal history, teaching seminary, and probably baking bread every day. I decided that I must have lost some of my minutes to decorating, and stewing over decorating, and she was faster at decision making on the whole than I was.

I have since pretty much given up on decorating, and every year get rid of more decor (I swear). But my laundry, dusting, food prep, grocery needs, and schedule juggling seem to have tripled (maybe quintupled). In looking back, I think I was managing fairly well until Max came along. I even did okay when he was a little less mobile. I could sit him on the floor with some toys, and he'd just be stuck there. Now however, he speed crawls from one room, grabs something like a remote, or batteries, or candles, makes a mad dash (still on his knees) toward the toilet, and lifting the lid --throws in the item with gusto. He empties my bathroom cupboards, turns on the tub; He stands and takes out all of my folded shirts and Jammie's. If kneel to fold and return the kitchen towels to their spot, he heads for the pantry and shakes the cereal boxes upside down.

I think the bottom line is that I have never been so busy. I keep wondering why I can't get on top and stay on top of my schedule (of Zach's and Abbie's, Sam's and Millie's too), but maybe, my expectations haven't been adjusted. Maybe I'm getting done the thick of the thick and thin stuff.

When on my 34th birthday, Star and I went to have an ultrasound for SkyMax, we were told there was a high possibility that he'd have down syndrome. My world crashed in around me that day, and for several afterward until I could make peace with the realization that I would love this child come what may. I already loved him.

So now as he climbs up on the kitchen table and happily throws the fake fruit, or crawls out of his high chair --onto the counter, unscrews the cinnamon bottle and dumps it out on the floor --I have to glory in the curiosity and the resulting busy-ness for me. When I spend 3-4 hours at parent teacher conference, I must revel in the process and chance to be on the team that will educate these little friends of mine.

And as far as blogging goes (and other things)...I just may be running a bit behind for a while.

Enjoying a FHE treat on the porch during an early Fall rainstorm

Secrets of Some Natives

Happy Days
I have known Star for many years now. I have found him to be ever industrious, ambitious, and willing to take a risk. After 9/11/01, when the start-up company he'd been with wilted like so many others at that time, he began a new full time career: job-seeking.

He had full faith when I wavered. He was optimistic when I was not. And eventually, he was offered a job in Loa, Utah. Now I am a native Utahn. My father was raised in Utah, my mother was raised in Utah, but we were not familiar with such a place.

Loa is a town in and the county seat of Wayne County, Utah, along State Route 24. The population is 525. Star became a commuter and a wilderness therapist. He would leave around 4am Monday mornings, and return 9pm or so Friday nights. Zach was in Kindergarten, Abbie was in Joy school, Sam was just over 6 months, and Louisa was on her way.

We lived like this until mid June when we loaded up a U-haul and two green vans to take up residence together in the old Leavitt house off of Main St. It was a wonderful season for us. As renters we had no weekend or evening responsibilities. Since the only grocery store in the county closed at 8pm and offered little, we found we had fewer needs. And since there was no cell phone coverage at that altitude, we had a Dad without distraction.

We sat on the front porch in the evenings and listened to our resident owl friends call to one another. We played store and school, we slid on blankets down the steep staircase, we read stories and played at the Fremont park.

The tree swing

Sam in his new Fish Lake b-day shirt

Millie takes a turn

These legs sure have gotten longer since he first spent time on this swing

When a promising job option became available up north, I tried everything I could to figure and re figure the budget to match the math. We knew we needed to return to our Grandview home that hadn't rented or sold yet. Within days of bringing the U-haul back to Provo, we were told of Louisa's fatal condition, and a whole new challenge surfaced for me.

Our time in Wayne county turned out to be the eye of the storm. We have returned almost every year since. And so even though it may not seem an exciting get-away for some, it has always served as an amazing reprieve for me. I breathe deeper there.

This year's edition:

The new park rangers

Their friendly replacements

So much time spent on the road just wears a fella out

An action shot of an athlete

Millie caught on quickly to the Frisbee concept

Master of the pioneer toys

Popeye?


Sisters

Brothers

Well --what would you do?

With the on-call Sheriff (he gets parked in a different town each day or so)

At the historic Fish Lake Lodge

Are you looking for peace?

Abbie reading in the window seat
Visit Wayne county, just sit and enjoy the breeze and watch the constant sprinklers at work on the acres of farmland. Go for a hike in Capitol Reef and study the petro-glyphs. Call Ted Winder and adopt him as your grandpa for a bit.

Ted Winder

Have a pastry at the Chuck Wagon Hotel in Torrey. Spend a Sunday meeting in the old Loa chapel with it's grand doors, red roof and tall open windows. Take a turn on the tree swing in the large maple guarding the Leavitt home. Breathe deep. These are secrets only a Utah native (who once called Wayne county home) can tell you.

Pictures of past and present

Changes in Energy

Did you know that the number eleven, as the fifth lowest prime number, has supposed power?
Those who recognize the meaning of number Eleven in their lives are quite sensitive to vibrational frequencies...
Pretty Wacko huh?

Abbie began her 11th birthday with a tour-guided hike with Sam, Zach, Dad, and Ted
(Who is Ted? An awesome guide who knew the ins and outs of everywhere).

Reaching great heights after surgery --quite a feat!

Her shirt reads "Fish Lake Girl."

The recipient of "Newsies" (a true family favorite)
When they returned we all headed into the heart of Fruita. We visited the one room school house, explored the Ripple Rock learning center, watched a short film on the way Capital Reef came to be, and relaxed with a picnic lunch and a game of Frisbee.

Odd jobs around the Fruita farm

hard at work grinding the corn
We then returned to Torrey and went swimming, and then to the new pizza place in town for dinner and a special Oreo malt for the birthday girl.

After a dip in the pool

1 and 1 equals 11, see?

Oh we've got trouble...with a capitol T that rhymes with P that stands for...

Abbie is a thinker. She makes correlations and witty comments that surprise me. Abbie is a talker. As a baby she refused to work on any signs --she'd much rather express her thoughts verbally (and she does). Abbie is a helper. She's determined in her efforts to be aware of needs, and offer to meet those needs before being asked (unless it involves my need to have her room tidy -- and then she'll reluctantly set about her task as long as she can listen to a book on tape while working). Abbie is no longer a little girl. She will begin middle school this year and is anticipating much change. She is restless to move out of primary, and is already offering her services to the Sunbeam teacher who seems a bit overwhelmed.

Abbie is socially confident with adults. She sets up her own hair appointments, made up her own "Summer School" and called all the moms with children in the ward. Phoning, selling --socializing are not my fortes, but I have encouraged it in her. I have wanted to have her feel that she has good wings, and that as long as they're pointed in the right direction --I'll allow her to fly.

I can feel it though --I can feel the "Tween" setting in and am a bit melancholy about the strength and increased energy in each new flight.

Looking forward....