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Drink
You know, I don’t really call myself a writer.
Even though:
I write as often as I can.
I am 9/10ths of my way through the first draft of my first novel.
I have submitted work to publishing agencies.
And I have earned a very small amount of money for words that I have put on a page, but I don’t think of myself as a writer. I feel like I have to reach a certain level first. A nebulous level of success that will only become clear once I’ve reached it. On that distant day, I will declare myself a writer.
I could sit and ponder why it is that I am loathe to name myself that way…
Hmm…could it be that I prefer not to be constrained by labels? Perhaps something from my childhood?
…but deep down, I know why I can not will not do not say I am a writer. It is because I am afraid of the scrutiny that I think it would invite. I am afraid people would disagree.
Oh Heidi, you are not a writer. You just aren’t. Not really.
I was talking to a friend today and I mentioned that I don’t look at a glass as half-full or half-empty; I just drink it. And that’s truly the way I approach life.
I do.
When I want something, I go for it.
When I want to know something, I find it out.
I try to live each day drinking life in instead of trying to figure our what it all means. I just do.
How can I bring these two parts of myself into harmony? The one who is afraid to declare what I want to be, and the one who picks up the glass and drains every last drop?
I can’t.
I can’t be both fearless and afraid.
I can’t be the both conqueror and the conquered.
Okay, maybe I can, but I don’t want to be.
I won’t.
So here and now
for the first time ever
I declare:
I am a writer.
Just don’t tell anyone, okay?
No wonder He said that
Eight is a big year for children in my church because at age eight a child can choose to be baptized. GW had been looking forward to last night for as long as she can remember. A couple of weeks ago, my shy terrified child shocked me by declaring that she wanted to tell the church how she feels about her God. She was so scared that she even cried a little on the way to the podium, but she felt like she really needed to do it.
This is what she said:
I want to share my testimony. I love God and I know he loves me. He is my very best friend in the whole world.
Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven. – Matthew 18:3
A Beginning
I’m too exhausted to write much tonight, but today has been a wonderful, special day for our family.
This evening my GW started a journey. She placed her (not so little anymore) foot upon the path as she chose to follow the example of Jesus Christ and be baptized.
I’ve never been prouder to be her mom.
A Whirlwind Romance – Part 2
Click here for part one of the greatest love story ever told (on this blog).
At this time in my life I was busy pursuing both a fine education (general studies at the local community college) and a career (customer service rep at Circuit City). On Sundays I attended a college ward (LDS terminology alert: ward = congregation) for young singles. It was not really going well. Remember how I mentioned that I had a bit of an attitude? To my intense surprise, my prickly personality had not won me any friends. I was considering whether I should continue going there or go back to my parents’ ward (snore).
Politically incorrect sidenote: Growing up, it was the standard joke that all of the people in my parents’ ward were either short, fat or retarded. Thankfully, I’m only 5′1″.
One afternoon at work I received my schedule and noticed that I was supposed to work the following Sunday afternoon. That meant that I would be unable to attend either ward. But I really did want to go to church. By a series of odd coincidences I ended up in a ward way across town. I had never been there and didn’t know anyone that attended there, but it met in the morning and I could go and still get to work on time. So I went.
I sat in the back, feeling slightly awkward. A few people smiled at me but I didn’t know what to say so I buried my head in the program. Hmmm…I noticed a familiar name. That one guy from the dance, my future husb- shut up! would be speaking that day – reporting back on his mission.
A I listened to him speak I realized that he was really a nice guy. And he seemed so confident, so sure of himself, which was exactly the opposite of what I felt. I felt bad for being so snotty to him when we met.
After the service, he saw me leaving the chapel. He caught up to me a grabbed me by the hand.
“Heidi, what are you doing here? Do you go to this ward?”
“Um, no I have to work this afternoon and- actually it’s really a long, boring story. I liked your talk. Welcome home.”
I guess he was excited to see a young familiar face. He dragged me over to meet his family: his parents and older brother. I really didn’t mind, they seemed nice. I felt strange. What was this feeling? The opposite of awkward, comfortable…
The next Sunday I went back to my college ward.
I walked in and no one said hello.
I sat in the back, alone.
What was I doing there?
I said a quick, sort of demanding silent prayer.
Hey, Heavenly Father?
I’m here because I thought this might be where you wanted me to be. And yes, I admit I haven’t tried quite as hard as I should, but still…I’ve been coming for months and I’m not even sure the bishop knows my name, let alone any of the people my age. I’ve committed to follow you, and I will. I know it won’t always be easy, but I can’t take much more of this. If you want me here you’ve got to throw me a bone. Here’s what I need: a friend. Just one would be enough. Oh, and I’d like to feel like I belong here please. Today. Or I’m never coming back. I guess I’ll join all the short/fat/retarded people and my parents…
Before I could finish the bishop came up and said, “Heidi, I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Could you meet me in my office after church for a few minutes? I’d like to get to know you better.”
“Um, okay.”
And then that guy from the dance walked in and said, “Why are you sitting here all alone? Come sit with me and my friends.” So I did.
That day I met his friend, Jay. Jay was nice and cute. So of course I said yes when he asked me out. Could be fun, right?
To be continued…
PS: Thirteen years ago today, Mr. Frantic asked me to be his wife and I said yes. I’d still say yes. Happy anniversary, sweetie.
Where He wants me to be
I was recently tagged for a meme on The Roost. She describes it like so:
This challenge is prompted by the book Not Quite What I Was Planning: Six Word Memoirs by Writers Famous & Obscure. by Larry Smith and Rachel Feshleiser. It’s a compilation based on the story that Hemingway once bet ten dollars that he could sum up his life in 6 words. His words were, “For Sale: Baby Shoes, Never Worn”.
Honestly, I have been having a hard time with this one because life has been? …let’s say it has been better.
Hey there’s six words: My life has been much better.
Or how about: Struggling, but keeping it to myself.
Or to get to the crux of the matter: Not where I want to be.
Three years ago my husband and I felt God directing us to a really big adventure. He told us to pack our things and leave our home: the place where our families lived and where we both grew up. We were to take our daughter and move 3000 miles from Oregon to Maryland. We had no concrete reason for doing so. Sure, there was a job there but there was a more secure job here. We were terrified, but we chose to obey. It was really hard and we were called upon to make huge financial sacrifices. Even so, it truly was the best time of my life.
It didn’t take me long to figure out what I was doing there. In his infinite love and mercy God moved us all that way so that I could be in the path of a young woman who needed me. Both our lives were changed forever.
And while I was there I grew to love Maryland. I love the trees and parks. I love the history. I love the food. I love the people I met.
I really loved the life I was living there.
I thanked God for my blessings even when it was hard. I was so grateful he placed us there and I never wanted to live anywhere else.
But He had other plans for us. The time came all too quickly that we were no longer needed in Maryland. A few months ago He called us home to Oregon; our family needed us here.
We obeyed but like Lot’s wife I have been unable to resist looking back. And I have been transformed into something like a pillar of salty, bitter tears. I have been stuck mourning for what I lost instead of building something new.
Yesterday, the tears I have been been trying to hold back broke through and I poured my sorrows out to my Lord. I felt no peace, just emptiness. Yet I pulled myself together and left for church.
And then He spoke to me.
It was He that reminded of Lot’s wife.
It was He that reminded me that I was merely pretending at obedience, for my heart wasn’t in it.
And then He comforted me.
During the service a group of young men sang a song that touched my soul so deeply that I could not keep from crying again. But this time the tears I shed were for gratitude that my God had not forgotten me.
Here are the words of the song:
It may not be on the mountain’s height
Or over the stormy sea,
It may not be at the battle’s front
My Lord will have need of me;
But if by a still, small voice
He calls to paths I do not know,
I’ll answer, dear Lord, with my hand in Thine,
I’ll go where You want me to go.
Perhaps today there are loving words
Which Jesus would have me speak,
There may be now, in the paths of sin,
Some wand’rer whom I should seek;
O Savior, if Thou wilt be my Guide,
Tho’ dark and rugged the way,
My voice shall echo the message sweet,
I’ll say what you want me to say.
There’s surely somewhere a lowly place
In earth’s harvest fields so wide,
Where I may labor through life’s short day
For Jesus the Crucified;
So, trusting my all unto Thy care-
I know Thou lovest me-
I’ll do Thy will with a heart sincere,
I’ll be what You want me to be.
Chorus:
I’ll go where You want me to go, dear Lord,
O’er mountain or plain or sea;
I’ll say what You want me to say, dear Lord,
I’ll be what You want me to be.
In that moment my heart was lifted and my resolve strengthened.
So here are my new six words:
Peace comes when I serve Him.
No matter where that might be.
*******
And now I have to tag five people (gag).
Here goes:
Desperately Seeking Sanity
She Just Had to Say It
Huh? And Other Profound Reactions to Life
Little Mama and Company
We are THAT Family
Here are the rules:
1. Write your own six word memoir.
2. Post it to your blog including a visual illustration if you would like.
3. Link to the person who tagged you in your post and to this original post if possible so we can track it as it travel across the blogsphere.
4. Tag 5 more blogs with links.
5. Don’t forget to leave a comment in the tagged blogs with an invitation to play.
Home Improvement
I married a real “fixer-upper”.
No, not a man who needs fixing-up, but one who does the fixing-up.
Here he is putting in a new front door:
What was wrong with the old one?
Nothing, if you like pirates. I mean really like pirates.
Read more
Storytime
Girl Wonder loves stories. Old stories, new stories, made-up stories, true stories… stories that don’t unintentionally rhyme.
But the story she loves the most is the story about how she came to be our girl.
Once upon a time Daddy and I decided to have a baby.
We began praying that our Heavenly Father would send you straight from heaven.
But He said, “Not yet.”
I cried. I pouted. I said, “Why not?”
And he said, “I love you. Not yet.”
I begged. I pleaded. I said, “I want to be a mom.”
He said, “So did your sisters, Sarah, Rachael, Rebecca, Hannah… They all had to wait and so do you.”
I said, “That makes me really angry.”
He said, “I still love you.”
I said, “This hurts.”
He said, “I know, but if you let me I will bring you peace.”
I said, “I don’t know if I can. I’m still mad.”
He said, “I’m here when you are ready.”
I cried. I pouted. I said, “I’m not going to talk to you anymore.”
He said, “I’ll miss you.”
I said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
He said, “I know.”
I said, “Please help me. I don’t know how to do this without you.”
He said, “I’m here.”
I said, “I trust you.”
And I gave him my broken heart.
He held it and promised to heal it, in time.
Sometimes I was tired of waiting. Sometimes I took back my broken heart. I tried to carry it myself, but it was too heavy.
He always took it back when I was ready to give it to him.
Five years passed.
One day He told me and Daddy to get ready. You would be coming soon.
He told us that he was carrying another broken heart. One that belonged to your birthmother.
She had prayed. She had cried. She had listened when He told her that you belonged to Him and that He wanted you to be with us.
She said, “That hurts.”
He said, “I know.”
She said, “Thy will be done.”
You were born on a Friday.
It was time for your birthmom to say goodbye.
It hurt. She cried. But her love was stronger than her pain.
We came to the hospital on Sunday. We met with your birthfamily.
We all cried. We all prayed.
The hospital chapel seemed too small to hold so much love and joy and sorrow.
She went home without you but she was not alone. He was with her.
Daddy and I rode the elevator to your floor, but we were not alone. He was with us too.
And then we were all together for the first time.
I said, “I’m your mom.”
Daddy said, “I’m your dad.”
I held you in my arms and we cried. But this time we cried because we were happy.
I prayed.
I said, “You were right. She was worth all the pain.”
And He said, “So are you. Each of my children is. This is love.”
And I wondered and marveled at all He has done for me.
I looked at you and began to tell you a story. An important story. A true story.
A story about love.
“Once upon a time, long ago in a land far away there was a baby born…”
Drive Across America – day 10: Welcome to Oregon!
Contemplating a long drive? My family and I have driven all the way across America. Twice. For travel tips, click here.
Sorry about the delay in writing this post, the last couple of days have been quite busy.
We made it! We drove all the way across the United States in nine days. (We didn’t actually leave until day two.)
Our little side trips added about five-hundred extra miles, adding up to a total of 3,547 miles. We spent about 58 hours driving. And we still like each other!
Our last day of traveling was on Easter Sunday. We attended church in Boise, Idaho. The people were so friendly! I shook so many hands entering the chapel that I felt like I was in a receiving line at a wedding reception. I asked who the bride was, and the Bishop kindly volunteered. (All Bishops are male in the LDS church.)
It is not an uncommon occurrence in my church to see older men discreetly sleeping through the Sacrament service. My own father calls in alternately “resting his eyes” or “thinking”. However, in this particular ward I saw something new. An older gentlemen had brought a little pillow to add to his napping comfort. He placed it on the back of the pew in front of him and leaned forward, resting his head on it. What genius! Perhaps I could market little Sunday Pillows and sell them at Deseret Book.
When we returned to the car, I gave Abby a couple of Easter treats.
Aren’t I a thoughtful mother?
Not really. In my travel fatigue, I forgot that Abby’s OCD prohibits her from eating anything cute. So, she had an adorable cookie and white chocolate chick that looked delicious but she could not eat them. So she cried. I gave her a Twinkie from the cooler and told her she could keep them as Easter decorations. Next week, I’ll go shopping for a new therapist here in Oregon.
For our boredom buster today, I taught Abby how to pump her fist at truckers and get them to honk at us. In our exhaustion excitement for the last day of driving, we felt it to be way funnier than it really was. My stomach actually hurt from laughing and a (week of junk food.)
Which reminds me: One of my goals for this trip was to drive all the way across the US and not eat at McDonalds. We succeeded! We did have DQ, Carl’s Jr., Sonic, and once we got to Oregon, Burgerville, but not a single McDs! Quite an accomplishment, I think.
Oregon welcomed us back with rain, but I wasn’t surprised. Since then the weather has been dry and mild.
We arrived and went directly to our new house. The next day we woke and got ready, ate breakfast, and went directly to Target and Home Depot.
Yesterday we painted Abby’s room.
Today, the moving truck will come.
Tonight, we sleep under our new roof.
Tomorrow: unpacking.
Stay tuned.
Drive across America – Day 8
Contemplating a long drive? My family and I have driven all the way across America. Twice. For travel tips, click here.
Mileage: 437
Total mileage: 2695
Today’s time in car: 6 hours 5 minutes
Starting from: Cheyenne, Wyoming
Ending in: Salt Lake City, Utah
States visited: Wyoming, Utah
Today’s boredom buster: picking up a cuddly hitchhiker at a truck stop store
Mood: bored, then energized
Today was just a whole lot of driving.
Here are the highlights:
• People in Wyoming wear these. In their honor, I am using lots of bullets today.
• We saw real mountains again. Sorry Pennsylvania, what you call mountains just don’t cut it.
• We crossed the continental divide. Now all the rivers run west toward the Pacific. Just like us.
• I finished “The Thirteenth Tale” and loved it. When I get a chance, I’ll give it five stars on goodreads.
• We are back in familiar territory. I must have ridden along on the drive from Utah to Oregon at least 25 times. At least. I found myself getting excited, thinking “We’re almost there!” Then I remembered that we still have thirteen hours of driving to go.
When we got to Salt Lake, we checked into our hotel and then walked over to the Joseph Smith Memorial building for dinner at the Garden Room, where as an appetizer we enjoyed deep-fried pickles. They were actually quite good.
Here’s how I knew we were really in Utah:
• A random man on the elevator quoted an LDS (Mormon) General Authority (leadership in the LDS church) to us.
• We saw lots of women in really long skirts.
• The man at the table next to us at dinner was talking about how a difficult project at work compares to stories in the Book of Mormon.
• I heard a woman saying how she “loves a good dill”. I thought ‘pickle?’ but she was referring to shopping (deal).
After dinner we enjoyed a good swim in the hotel pool. Abby made shy friends with two little girls. They played Marco-Poolo with us (more fun to say than Polo). Later, we ran into them at the elevator and they both gave Abby hugs. She felt so good about herself and her ability to make friends at her new school.
Tomorrow: Museum of Mormon History and Art, visiting with family, more driving
Drive acoss America – Day 7
Contemplating a long drive? My family and I have driven all the way across America. Twice. For travel tips, click here.
Mileage: 523
Total mileage: 2258
Today’s time in car: 7 hours 16 minutes
Starting from: Omaha, Nebraska
Ending in: Cheyenne, Wyoming
States visited: Nebraska, Wyoming
Today’s boredom buster: new socks
Mood: inspired
Leaving Nauvoo yesterday, we had a decision to make. Should we go north to South Dakota and see Mt. Rushmore or stay on hwy 80, a path we have already taken when we drove east three years ago? We really wanted to go north, but given the time of year we decided that it would be more prudent to stay on 80. So, we continued along hwy 80, following the Mormon trail.
This morning, after unpacking and reorganizing the additional baggage in our car, we drove over to the Mormon Trail Center in Florence, Nebraska. This is where the early wagon companies built cabins and wintered over before resuming their journey west.
Last time we were here, Abby was only four; she has no memory of this place. And I have to admit, it was much more meaningful for me to be here after visiting all of the other historic sites this week.
A sister missionary took us on a tour of the center, recounting the hardships and sorrow the pioneers had on their trek west. A portion of the journey that should have taken four weeks took four months. Four months of slogging through cold mud that came up to the wagon boxes. That’s chest high for someone my size.
We drove the same distance in one day.
Even when they made it to Winter Quarters, death was a near daily occurrence. Children particularly, were susceptible to scurvy from the lack of fresh produce. Many were buried at the cemetery on the hill across the street from where we stood. After the tour, I stooped in the cemetery tracing the barely legible letters on this small marking stone. A-M-Y.
And yet, they kept their faith firmly wrapped around them and continued on. This statue in the cemetery shows a grieving couple standing over the grave of their baby. The sorrow is plainly etched on their faces, yet the man’s bent leg shows him preparing to take a step and keep going.
Why did they do it? Through it all, the sorrow, the hardships, even the monotony of walking 1000 miles across seemingly unchanging plains, burned a conviction that they were following God’s will.
They kept moving west. And they sang as they went.
One of my favorite hymns was written on the trail by one of these early pioneers. Journal accounts from the time indicate that it was sung nearly every day. Hear it here.
The tour had fun parts as well. Abby practiced loading her wagon, placing the important things in first, weighing what must be left behind. She also got to pull a handcart.
I hope all these memories stay with her. That she is able to lean upon the testimonies of her ancestors when life gets difficult. That she will be inspired to keep placing one foot in front of another even when she is so very tired.
Today’s drive was long. I read. Abby watched movies and drew. Bob just drove. We were bored.
I tried to keep in my mind’s eye a picture of the past, those that struggled along this same road all those years ago. I tried to be grateful.
Still, at our hotel this evening, I locked myself in the bathroom for just five minutes to myself.
Abby came knocking after two.
Tomorrow: A long day of driving.
Once upon a time there was a Heidi…
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