Happy Mothers Day . . . to me . . . again

Nate's someday finally came!

 His long awaited mother's day gift was obscured by the bookcase in his room.

Answers to Prayer

The pattern of our lives determines our eligibility to receive the promptings of the Spirit and to hear the answers to our prayers. Again, let there be no misunderstanding. Heavenly Father does answer our prayers, but often we aren't prepared to hear him.
--H. Burke Peterson, Ensign, June 1981

Erik's Primary teachers are some of the best. In the past they've invited the children in their class over to their house for dinner and to practice for their Class Presentation Sharing Time. They come to baptisms and send homework home each Sunday. They are Brother and Sister Harman and he's our former bishop. During Sacrament Meeting I read through Erik's homework on prayer. I enjoyed the story, but particularly loved what Elder Scott said at the end.

NO ANSWER
by Michelle Van Tassell Nielsen

God will give me, if I ask not amiss (2 Ne. 4:35).

“Drat!” Ben slapped the water in disgust as he watched his scuba man settle at the bottom of his uncle’s swimming pool—again. His two plastic turtles floated just fine, but the plastic scuba diver kept slipping from his hand and sinking like a stone. Ben couldn’t dive to get it, so he had to keep asking his brother for help. Ben knew that Heavenly Father helped people who had faith. When he had the scuba diver in his hand again, he closed his eyes and said a silent prayer: “Please don’t let my scuba man sink.” As soon as he had said amen, he opened his eyes and dropped the little plastic man into the water. It sank right back to the bottom. “Why didn’t Heavenly Father answer my prayer?”

A few days later, Ben came home and found his mom cooking squishy broccoli casserole with slimy sauce. Ben hated broccoli. “Please, Heavenly Father,” he prayed. “Let me have ice cream for dinner instead of squishy broccoli.” But Mom still served broccoli and slimy sauce for dinner.  

“Why didn’t Heavenly Father answer my prayer?”

One afternoon, Ben’s mom said he had to clean up his room in the next 15 minutes if he wanted to play video games. Ben’s room was a big mess, with toys, clothes, and books all over the floor. Ben wanted to play video games, but he didn’t want to clean his room. “Please let my room be cleaned by magic,” he prayed. Fifteen minutes later when Mom came back to check, the room was still messy. Ben was not allowed to play video games. “

Why didn’t Heavenly Father answer my prayer?”

As Mom tucked him back into bed, Ben told her about the scuba diver, the broccoli, and the messy room. “Why does Heavenly Father answer some prayers and not others?” he asked. “Heavenly Father always answers our prayers,” she said. “But sometimes the answer is no if we ask for things that would be bad for us. He wants us to learn here on earth. What did you learn at the swimming pool?” Ben thought for a minute. “I learned that some things float and some don’t,” he said. “And that I have a nice brother who will help me.” Mom nodded. “Then there’s the casserole. I’m sorry you think that broccoli is squishy, but it’s good for you. Why do you suppose Heavenly Father let you eat it?” Ben sighed. “Because he wants me to be healthy and strong.” “And finally the messy room,” Mom said. “Why didn’t Heavenly Father clean it for you?” Ben sat quietly for a minute, thinking. Ben frowned. “Heavenly Father wants us to do all we can to help solve our problems.” “Sometimes the answer is yes, and sometimes it’s no.” “And sometimes it’s ‘not yet,’ ” Mom added. From now on, I’m going to try to ask for things that are good for me. Heavenly Father knows how to answer best.” Mom gave him a hug. “I think that broccoli is making you smarter already!”

"[Heavenly Father] knows what is best for us. …

When He answers yes, it is to give us confidence.
When He answers no, it is to prevent error.
When He withholds an answer, it is to have us grow through faith in Him."
--Richard G. Scott, “Learning to Recognize Answers to Prayer,” Ensign, November 1989

One can devote countless hours to examining the experiences of others, but nothing penetrates the human heart as does a personal, fervent prayer and its heaven-sent response.

--Thomas S. Monson, Ensign, October 2004

This story reminded me of the time we were coming home from camping and decided to take a shortcut. It was a prettier route but some of it was washboarded and bumpy. Kiersten and Erik were little and I was 7 months pregnant with Nate.

Out in the middle of nowhere, our van got a flat tire. We'd only had our van a year or two and hadn't taken the time to figure out the spare tire. Tyler and I found the spare, but could not figure out how to get it off. All of our camping equipment came out of the van and we still could not find anything to help us. No manual, no instructions, nothing.

It was getting hot and I was to the point of starting to walk. We had brought the wagon and could haul two little kids if we had to. But before we did this I suggested we say a prayer. So out on a dusty dirt road, in the middle of nowhere, we offered a prayer of help.

We got up and continued to look for anything to help get the tire out from underneath the van. About 5 minutes later I returned to the back of the van. There sitting in full view was a white piece of paper detailing exactly how to get the spare tire off and change the flat. Just as we were finishing up the job (after being stuck for about 2 hours), a truck came along and offered to help. Heavenly Father knew we needed an immediate answer to our prayer, but we had to humble ourselves enough to ask.

To this day I have no idea where that white piece of paper came from. I know it was not anywhere in that van. We had literally unloaded everything and wouldn't have missed it just sitting there. Prayers do get answered. Most of the time we just have to be patient and wait. The answers will come.

AND in the words of Virginia Reed, a 12-year-old survivor of the Donner party: “Never take no cutof[f]s."

Shoes X 4

 Three pairs in 1 school year

Averages to:

One pair every 3 1/2 months

Can we afford this?

Monetarily, I guess. As it relates to my time, no. Tooele offers no decent place to buy a good pair of shoes. That necessitates a trip to Salt Lake. This last pair I spent a little more and hopefully got some that will last. At least outlast the boy who is terribly hard on shoes. I'm hoping he outgrows them before he outwears them.

Mother's Day gifts

You can feel the love emanating from that photo, can't you? My new word for Ash: obstinate. Clearly from this picture she was refusing to smile and no amount of coaxing was going to change her mind.

Kiersten gave me a set of note cards to use for various occasions. This was something they made in school. I was very impressed her teacher put in so much effort.

Erik gave me a coupon for a free meal or salad at the McD's in Lake Point. 

Tyler gave me . . . a surprise. He's been into surprises lately, totally uncharacteristic of him. His Amazon box contained an hour glass that kept time for exactly an hour. We used it today to time the kids in cleaning up the kitchen after a Sunday dinner of steak and baked potatoes (can I just crow a wee bit . . . he makes a darn good steak).

Nate's present is still in hiding. All week long he would not allow me to look in his backpack. Finally he removed his present and hid it where I wouldn't find it. Well, neither can he now. Someday, Nate. Someday we'll find that present.

And the Jazz pulled off a win. Take that Kobe!

Who couldn't ask for a better Mother's Day other than constantly reminding my kids to put their stuff away or the DI Monster might just gobble it up never to be reclaimed and having a minute meltdown over lost homework (Yes, me, the mom had the meltdown. I've checked out of school. I did homework for 16 years and I'm through doing anymore this year.). I hope my mom had as good a day. She deserves it after putting up with the six of us and for still putting up with us. I know that only as a mother have I come to really appreciate the sacrifices she made for me. Happy Mother's Day to a wonderfully awesome mom!

Hard first day on the job

I've decided Ash may never potty train. She loves her diapers too much. Yesterday we decided to start again. I put her in underwear and continued to set her on the potty even though she did not pee all day in the toilet OR her underwear. She finally outsmarted her dad by closing the bathroom door, putting her underwear and pants back on, and then commenced to pee them. In the tub she went, and after she got out the underwear went back on; later that evening she came to tell me she needed to go and did the poops. Today is pretty much the same story. Underwear went on, she refused to pee in the potty, and after lunch came to tell me she was going to take a nap. I put a diaper on her amid her giggles and she was out in minutes (she did wake up poopy, the little toad). Pottying is such hard work.

"I would finally have a stamp in my passport, and that it would say Italy on it."

It doesn't say Italy, but Ireland's close enough; they do both start with an I. I was a little disappointed I didn't get a stamp when we went to England. In fact entering both Ireland and England was a breeze compared to what we went through to get back into the United States. Customs was a nightmare, an experience I don't want to repeat for a long time.

Anyway, we are back on the radar. It's a little unnerving knowing that your phone doesn't work in a different country and you don't have access to the internet or email, especially during playoff season. How were we going to keep tabs on the Jazz (we did think of our kids once or twice too). It's nice to be home, connected again, and relieved the Jazz didn't falter in the first round.

IRELAND

Oh how the Irish love their beer, Irish tea, and potatoes. Every meal featured potatoes, one dinner even had four different varieties (don't think they've been introduced to funeral potatoes yet, however). Belfast was an interesting town and is actually part of England. After competing at different Irish games (I hit the bulls eye in archery!), we got a tour of Belfast in a black cab with a cabbie whose accent was so thick the four of us in the cab just smiled and nodded. It commenced at the shipyard where the Titanic was built. They have yet to built a replica, but the iron supports where it sat are still there. That was about the only thing to see. After that we continued on what became a very political tour, traveling to see the murals that are painted around the city depicting the struggle between Ireland and England, between Catholic and Protestant. We saw one mural depicting George Bush and their anti-American sentiments. That didn't really induce a feeling of safety.

We went hiking in Glendalough (pronounced Glen-da-loch). It really wasn't much of a hike . . . just a walk up a path to the lake, but it did have an old cemetery with a tower that reminded me of Rapunzel. The door was high and the only way to get in was by a ladder. We took a raft ride (it really was just a big inflatable raft) on the Irish Sea to a castle called Malahide and toured the Guinness Storehouse, Ireland's number one attraction. Didn't I say they loved their beer (glad to be away from the alcohol that flows so freely). We had dinner there and enjoyed a U2 tribute band who looked and sounded like the real thing. The final night was spent in Kilmainham Royal Hospital which is not really a hospital, but was an infirmary for the soldiers in the 1700s. It is now a museum. We were treated to dinner (yes, potatoes were on the menu) and awesome entertainment of Celtic songs and Irish dancing.

Overall, Ireland was a fun trip, but wished we had a little more down time to ourselves for shopping or exploring. Met some wonderfully nice people who work for Cuna Mutual.

ENGLAND

The first thought I had as we drove through England (other than praying we would survive their wacky roundabouts at most intersections) was about the pioneers who emigrated to the United States, made their way across this country, only to enter a very brown, desert Salt Lake Valley. England (and Ireland) was so green, so naturally green. I was trying to imagine how they must have felt coming down Emigration Canyon knowing what they left behind in England. I would have cried. We visited the old parish in North Wingfield where Ty's ancestors are from. No luck in finding a headstone, but we suspect they weren't wealthy enough and probably just had a wooden cross for a grave marker, something that wouldn't have survived this long. We were lucky enough to meet the lady curator. She took our information and if she comes across anything, she'll email or mail it. One morning we attended the local family history society's meeting and uncovered some names in one of the parish books they had available. We walked through an old cemetery in Belper, another ancestral town, and did some shopping in Derby (pronounced Darby with a soft r). Most cashiers were uncertain how to handle our credit card. Apparently in Europe everyone has a card with a microchip that is waved in front of the machine, no signature required. We did little buying since the dollar was not very good (for every euro or pound stirling it cost us two dollars), but we did find a pretty good deal on some soccer goals and even managed to get them home.

Overall, England was great. Loved the family history and old cemeteries. Hated the driving and Holiday Inn Express.

UK Expressions

TO LET=to rent or buy (I kept thinking they meant to spell toilet and left out the I)

"Thank you for your kind blows"=clapping

"The water looks a bit lumpy"=rough water in the Irish sea

Holiday=vacation

"How'd you find it?"=How'd you like it?

Take away=take out

Dual carriage=two-way freeway

Trolley=cart

Car park=parking

Lorry park=truck stop

Refuge=median or pull over area

Confectionary=candy

Redundant=unemployed or laid off

Bloke=guy

Rubbish=garage

Nappy=diaper

Lift=elevator

Wee bit=little bit

Brilliant/lovely are adjectives they use a lot

Put the word county first and seem to refer to counties more than actual towns, i.e., County Wicklow instead of Wicklow County