It all started with a baby

Angie was scheduled to have her baby today, three days after Christmas. Instead she came on December 21, four days before. Little Autumn Noelle Carley. We hinted that they should have come up with a middle name that began with B and then her initials would have been ABC. Angie already stole both of my girl names.

When we were growing up, there was a TV show called Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman. Dr. Quinn's first name was Michaela. All three of us girls fought over that name. Unfortunately Tyler wasn't quite on board and we went with Kiersten, which fits her perfectly. Angie was free to steal our childhood name. Then Alex came along, although we didn't know if Al was going to be a girl or a boy. Tyler and I had decided on two names -- Alex and Autumn. Yep, Ang stole that one too. I guess I'm excited that someone used one of our favorites.

Two sisters: Makayla and Autumn, one very much in love with her baby sister.

Oh, a baby for Christmas just makes the whole season that much more magical. I took the girls for a visit and we were in love. Three weeks earlier Kiersten brought home Ezra Northrup Ruggles Antoninus Pius Marcus Aurelius Pythagonus Charlemagne Muhammed Alpheus Ikemefuna, a fake baby for her child development class. That, by the way, is the name she christened him and is taken from a myriad of sources -- the Doctrine and Covenants; Mr. Henry, her history teacher; and English books. Oh, her poor children. We've had a long chat about how she is to consult her mother before naming any of her own children. I need to know that I can at least pronounce it correctly.

When she walked through the door with that crying baby, my heart melted. Oh how it sounded so real. So real that we even played dress up with the dress we were gifting to baby Autumn. After a few days of hauling baby everywhere, middle-of-the-night feedings, and constant attention, Kiersten was more than happy to hand him back.


Ash pretty much doted on that baby all weekend but refused to hold a real, live, squishy one when she had the chance.

Babies truly are gifts from heaven. And so are sisters.

Liquid gold

Our gift giving has commenced. Grandma and Grandpa came bearing gifts and stayed for a visit to watch Kiersten's orchestra performance.

They may not have brought frankincense or myrrh, but gold in the liquid form is pretty good stuff. Grandpa's bees bit the dust while they were away proselyting and left behind a glut of honey; we were the lucky recipients.

Shrieks of pure joy filled our house when the kids opened their box to find loaves of white bread. Um, Tyler and I have been spending too much if all it takes is a loaf of white bread to make them happy. I'm not a fan of white bread and therefore I don't buy it. So anytime it ends up in our house, my kids are in heaven . . . or when someone other than Erik brings the sacrament bread.

And what does Santa do with a letter like this:

It reminded me of the little story about the man who began praying for God to stop his fall as he was slipping off the roof. A nail caught hold of his pants, stopping him. He continued his prayer saying, "Never mind. I took care of it myself."

Never mind, Santa. Seems I don't need that calculator after all. Don't you think a smart kid would take care of his stuff so he wouldn't constantly have to ask for replacements. Notice the nice jacket item on there also? Yep. He can never quite seem to take care of his sweatshirts either. Well, the suspense has been building. Will Santa notice the change or not? Come Christmas morning I guess we'll find out.

The wrong sweatshirt

Tonight we headed downtown to see the lights on Temple Square and do a little shopping. It's a tradition and tonight was perfect . . . kids out of school, no storms, and no need to bundle tight.

On Monday we got plastered with a monstrous storm that continued all day.

You know it's a big deal when The Weather Channel has their guys out here and they've named it Winter Storm Echo. Lucky for me I hadn't taken a subbing job yet, so I took the day off to shovel and drink hot chocolate (I'll have to share my favorite, easy recipe some time). The ruler measured 9 or 10 inches; we've had bigger storms even though the following day the school district issued a late start day. It wasn't a snow day but heading to school two hours later was a real treat.

Well tonight Erik wore his BYU sweatshirt into Salt Lake. Not because he chose to but because he literally has no other outer clothing to wear. I've offered to get him a coat and he refuses my offer. He's at least graduated from constant short wearing to jeans with some length.

The sweatshirt? No big deal, right? Except that tomorrow is a pretty big bowl game between BYU and the U of U and we were smack in the middle of Ute country tonight. As we were walking out of Barnes and Noble, a gentleman passed us on the way in. He stopped by Erik, gave him a friendly thump on the chest and told him his Cougars were gonna get their "butts" kicked tomorrow. He may or may not have used other words.

It was all in good fun although I think it caught Erik off guard.

Should be an interesting game. Ute fans and Cougar fans side by side. I hope they can behave themselves.

12 Days of Christmas

The 12 Days of Christmas has been a family tradition for a few years and most years I think we do a pretty good job of keeping things pretty inconspicuous. 

This year we had to switch families last minute and decided to surprise the cute little family across the street. It definitely was the easiest. No driving. No camping out, waiting for them to leave. Just peer out the windows and watch for good timing.

Ash was pretty much the designated delivery gal. To the top of porch and to the top of wall she ran with great speed.

These particular neighbors have a wireless doorbell like we do. There were many days this past summer when we would open the door after the doorbell had been rung to not find anyone there. We thought for sure it must be the cousins next door playing pranks. After several months, our neighbor discovered the mysterious doorbell ringing: our doorbells must be on the same frequency. We have a good laugh and wave when we both step outside to inspect the ringing.

After we had decided on these particular neighbors for our gift giving, we thought about how easy it would be to carefully place our gift, come home, ring our doorbell, and watch for the door to answer. To throw them off even further, we could step outside after they answered like we were opening our door as well.

It was a good thought, but it never happened.

Our plan was fail proof; we had been so stealth for the entire 12 days. Surely they would not know it was us. As I was coming down the hall at church, I stopped to talk to this neighbor and she thanked me for the gifts. I played stupid for a minute and then asked how she knew it was us.

Well, uh, dummy me looked for the perfect box for our last gift and discovered the right sized one in our storage room. I quickly wrapped it and sent Ash on her way.


However, did I check the labels???? No. My name was plastered all over that Amazon box.

Oh well. We were bound to get caught one year. I just feel badly it was my mistake. Lesson learned: don't use your own boxes or at least make sure there is no discriminating evidence taped all over it.

Three Levels of Christmas

Three Levels of Christmas 
by William B. Smart
Messages for a Happier Life

Christmas is a beautiful time of the year. We love the excitement, the giving spirit, the special awareness of and appreciation for family and friends, the feelings of love and brotherhood that bless our gatherings at Christmastime.

In all of the joyousness it is well to reflect that Christmas comes at three levels.

Let’s call the first the Santa Claus level. It’s the level of Christmas trees and holly, of whispered secrets and colorful packages, of candlelight and rich food and warm open houses. It’s carolers in the shopping malls, excited children, and weary but loving parents. It’s a lovely time of special warmth and caring and giving. It’s the level at which we eat too much and spend too much and do too much – and enjoy every minute of it. We love the Santa Claus level of Christmas.

But there’s a higher, more beautiful level. Let’s call it the Silent Night level. It’s the level of all our glorious Christmas carols, of that beloved, familiar story: “Now in those days there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus….” It’s the level of the crowded inn and the silent, holy moment in a dark stable when the Son of Man came to earth. It’s the shepherds on steep, bare hills near Bethlehem, angels with their glad tidings, the new star in the East, wise men traveling far in search of the Holy One. How beautiful and meaningful it is; how infinitely poorer we would be without this sacred second level of Christmas.

The trouble is, these two levels don’t last. They can’t. Twelve days of Christmas, at the first level, is about all most of us can stand. It’s too intense, too extravagant. The tree dies out and needles fall. The candles burn down. The beautiful wrappings go out with the trash, the carolers are up on the ski slopes, the toys break, and the biggest day in the stores for the entire year is exchange day, December 26th. The feast is over and the dieting begins. But the lonely and the hungry are with us still, perhaps lonelier and hungrier than before.

Lovely and joyous as the first level of Christmas is, there will come day, very soon, when Mother will put away the decorations and vacuum the living room and think, “Thank goodness that this over for another year.”

Even the second level, the level of the Baby Jesus, can’t last. How many times this season can you sing, “Silent Night?” The angels and the star, and the shepherd, even the silent, sacred mystery of the holy night itself, can’t long satisfy humanity’s basic need. The man who keeps Christ in the manger will, in the end, be disappointed and empty.

No, for Christmas to last all year long, for it to grow in beauty and meaning and purpose, for it to have the power to change lives, we must celebrate it at the third level, that of the adult Christ. It is at this level—not as an infant—that our Savior brings his gifts of lasting joy, lasting peace, lasting hope. It was the adult Christ who reached out and touched the untouchable, who loved the unlovable, who so loved us all that even in his agony on the cross, he prayed forgiveness for his enemies.

This is Christ, creator of worlds without number, who wept because so many of us lack affection and hate each other – and then who willingly gave his life for all of us, including those for whom he wept. This is the Christ, the adult Christ, who gave us the perfect example, and asked us to follow him.

Accepting that invitation is the way – the only way – that all mankind can celebrate Christmas all year and all life long.

Alex

Can you find him? He's incognito. This is where he tends to hide most days.

Or watching Short Circuit, which seems to be his favorite movie. I'd rather he didn't watch it. Hello. '80s movie. Need I say more. It's geared toward kids. Or at least I thought it was.

Last year I put him in an online preschool administered through the state of Utah. It's called Upstart and I was very impressed. His reading level is quite high for a kindergartner. They tested him at the start of the preschool and again at the end. They didn't share the results from the first test but eventually mailed us the end results.

His favorite series right now is The Magic Treehouse. He's up around book 30 and can almost tell you the name of any one book he's read. You ask him what #14 is and he'll tell you right off that it's Day of the Dragon King or that #3 is Mummies in the Morning.

He's also been getting quite annoyed with everyone lately. "You are annoying me." I've pulled him aside a couple of times to talk to him about it, and I've told him that he has a choice. He can choose to be annoyed or not. As a parent you never know whether they are really getting what you are telling them.

This morning Nate was bothering him. Alex looked at Nate and said, "You are annoying me, but I choose not to be annoyed."

Ha, ha, ha. Good one Alex. I guess he was listening.

He is loving school, especially his teacher Mrs. Burge. I've been called Mrs. Burge a few times at home.


The other day he told Kiersten she did something perfecto. "I used a Spanish word. Do you know what it was. It was perfecto. Do you know what that means?" --Age 5

I was folding towels and one had CTR on it. I asked him if he knew what it meant. "Choose the Right," I said. "Choose the right every day." Alex thought about that for a minute and said, "But sometimes we go left." --Age 4

"Brinley doesn't know anything. She told me she is taller than me. But I told her 2 (years old) isn't taller than 4 (years old)." --Age 4

"They call it a mug room because they are the Ruebush." --Age 4

He shares a room with Erik and they are not the best housekeepers. This was actually taken on a rather mild day. Every week they clean it . . . and every week it looks like a tornado touched down.

Buddhism and the lost ten tribes

Our lecture material from last week's Buddhist workshop said that Buddhism came to be about 2500 years ago or 500 bc.

Well, that got me thinking. And wondering.

Right now in our family scripture reading, we are in Exodus where Moses is preparing to lead the Israelites out of Egypt. One day we'll get to the part where the Assyrians come in and conquer and lead ten of those tribes away. What that exactly means, I don't know. But the date is somewhere around 721 bc.

So what if a group of people were led East to the area of India and China. It seems to me that every religion has one or a few things in common with each other.

Could Buddhism, which came from Hinduism, have originated with one of the lost tribes?

I don't know. But it's given me something to think about for a few days.

Another driver

We've got another driver behind the wheel.

A good lookin' one too.

Funny thing is I'm not as nervous with Erik as I was with Kiersten. I really think he's a better driver or maybe I just needed to be broken in. At least he's got a better sense of where he is on the road and his lane. And again he hasn't driven on a two-lane road yet. It's all been around Lake Point where the only thing you really have to look out for are the peacocks and mailboxes.

These guys were hanging out by the church doors when Erik and I came by for a driving lesson in parking.

Hoping to sneak in out of the snow, possibly?

Secular Buddhism

Last Saturday I attended an all day workshop with Tyler about Secular Buddhism. When he first asked me several weeks about going, I was hesitant. I didn't want to be a part of a religion bashing session. After doing a little research on my own, I came to the conclusion that this wasn't what it was about and decided to go. I saw it as a way to strengthen my marriage that seems to be rocky at times.

We were following the GPS, trying to find the address, and as we turned on to one street, I mentioned that I bet we're going to Larry Miller's house. We had been by it a couple of years before when Jacob, my brother-in-law, took us to see the lights he had done (he used to work for the Miller group, doing stuff like that).

Sure enough. We pulled up and entered this beautiful home where one of the guests introduced himself as Bryan Miller and explained that after the passing of his dad, his mom had decided to move somewhere else. He wasn't the one doing the seminar but had instead offered the place to his friend, the lecturer.

We went around the group and introduced ourselves. It seemed a good portion had either left the LDS faith of were on their way out. As it came nearer for me to stand and make my introduction, I wasn't sure how I was going to portray myself to this group. Do I simply say my name and who I was with? Do I declare my religious affiliation? I decided to do the latter. This was not a time to shy away from my beliefs. I introduced myself as being very much LDS. I explained that I had taken a college class on world religions and that they've always been an interest to me. I also explained that I came with Tyler as a way to strengthen our marriage.

After a day of lectures and trying some meditating techniques, I came away feeling like Secular Buddhism shows someone how to live a great life. Many of the things that were discussed I wholeheartedly agreed with.

*You should have compassion for others and be joyful in their successes.
*You should look at life through the eyes of death as a way to make it more meaningful.
*Suffering is not something to be endured and is nothing more than life or events not turning out as you'd like.
*Be happy with what you have.
*Everything is interconnected. Yes, your actions affect more than just yourself.
*Everything is in a constant state of change.
*Meditation is a great way to still and calm the soul.
*Karma is nothing more than choices and their consequences.

There were some ideas that left me befuddled like a line in our material that said, "The goal of Buddhism is not to achieve happiness; it's to achieve liberation." Liberation from what? I believe the basic goal of most people is they just want to be happy. 

It seemed to focus inwardly . . . I can handle my own problems and suffering . . . The only thing we really have is now.

I also didn't really grasp the idea of wise and unwise . . . There is no evil or good in the world . . . Those are just labels. I had disagree with that. There certainly is evil and good. Someone who has made an unwise choice cannot be classified with someone who has made an evil choice. Hitler could be said to be unwise, but for someone who committed such atrocities against people, there is no other word to describe him other than evil.

This was just a cursory glance into Secular Buddhism whose aim is not religious at all. I'm sure I could attend many more lectures and classes and learn quite a bit more.

All in all I felt like it was good material on how to live a good life. But it didn't address where I came from, why I am here on this earth, or what life is like after I die. Those are important questions for me that my LDS faith answers at the moment.

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Who Know What Is Good and What Is Bad
A Parable

". . . an old Chinese farmer lost his best stallion one day and his neighbor came around to express his regrets, but the farmer just said, 'Who knows what is good and what is bad.' The next day the stallion returned bringing with him 3 wild mares. The neighbor rushed back to celebrate with the farmer, but the old farmer simply said, 'Who knows what is good and what is bad.' The following day, the farmer's son fell from one of the mares while trying to break her in and broke his arm and injured his leg. The neighbor came by to check on the son and give his condolences, but the old farmer just said, 'Who knows what is good and what is bad.' The next day the army came to the farm to conscript the farmer's son for war, but found him invalid and left him with his father. The neighbor thought to himself, 'Who knows what is good and what is bad.'"