Breaking through the Darkness . . .

In July of 2014, I began to unravel at the seams – mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually. The pressure that had been steadily building since the birth of our fifth child a year earlier, was about to consume me. I felt like I was drowning, unable to keep my head above water in a sea of so many have to’s, need to’s, and want to’s. I felt lost and uncertain.

On a long cross-country drive with my sister-in-law (Melanie), the dam finally broke. As the tears spilled forth, I vocalized my frustrations, my insecurities, and my failures. We talked for hours as I cried. Melanie helped me to see that I had unrealistic expectations for myself as a mother and that I needed to “let go” of some of the things that used to define me. She offered her insight and imparted her wisdom upon me. As we pulled into my gravel driveway, I felt better. I was confident that things would improve. However, like organizing a closet – things tend to get messier before there is order. Such was the case for me.

Soon after, I fell off the health and fitness wagon I had meticulously built. Each and every time I began to rebuild it; I would mistake the wheel for a donut and sabotage myself once again. I reverted to my old eating habits, using food (sugar) as a crutch – my outlet for stress. However, food only added inches to my butt, thighs, and belly. Over the course of nine months, I ate the wagon seven times over and gained back nearly all of the weight I had worked so hard to lose. Excuse and rationalization became my constant companions. This unraveling of my physical self pulled me deeper into a pit of despair and darkness as my confidence plummeted. (I firmly believe that our mental, physical, spiritual and emotional selves are interconnected – when one area is weak or lacking, it tends to pull down the other areas as well).

A journal entry from March 14, 2015, sheds light on the battle that was raging within me:

            “Oh, how I’ve been struggling the past few months with a faceless, nameless enemy – my inner self. Until tonight, I hadn’t been able to pinpoint the source of my sadness and anguish. I’ve only experienced the weight of it upon my heart and the release of it as my tears fall silently down my cheeks. I had tried all of my go-to’s for problem solving – soaking in a hot bath, journal writing, heartfelt prayer, serving others – while all of these good things temporarily alleviated my sorrows, they couldn’t alleviate it completely because I wasn’t entirely sure of the root cause. My mom and mother-in-law are concerned for me, as is Adam.”

I’m not trying to imply that everyday was bleak and filled with sorrow. In the midst of this trial, I experienced days and moments of exquisite joy, laughter, and fun. I did my best to put a smile on my face and be “present.” However, just below the surface, I was hurting – plagued by my weaknesses, failings, and insecurities – all of which seemed to be pulling me deeper and deeper into a sea of darkness.

My dear husband was such a comfort and support to me. He would hold me in his arms and let me cry, listen to my ramblings, and offer his insight; but he couldn’t fix me or solve my problem. He offered to get me professional help, but I declined. Perhaps, I should have consented. I continued to struggle despite the love that surrounded me. I kept running through the motions, taking care of my family, and pleading with my Heavenly Father for relief, for help.

On a Sunday afternoon in May, my prayers were answered. I was finally given the tools to assist me with my struggle. My journal entry from that day (Sunday, May 31^st, 2015) reads:

            “I received many answers to prayers today through talks, testimonies, lessons, and the wise counsel of a friend. I feel like I finally know what I need to do to combat my health and fitness struggles – and it’s not a new diet! My friend told me about her journey with our church’s 12 Step Addiction Recovery Program and how she’s learned to utilize the enabling power of the Atonement. It was a light bulb moment as everything clicked and my mind was enlightened. I’ve realized that this is something I need to do. My mom told me that I haven’t really taken control of me yet. Perhaps, she’s right. I cannot continue the cycle of sabotaging myself and my successes. This extends much deeper than diet and exercise. God has given me this weakness to teach me something? What am I to learn from this? Adam has counseled me again and again to utilize the enabling power of Christ’s Atonement and lay my burdens at the Savior’s feet. I think I’m finally ready to do so. The Addiction Recovery Program (ARP) is the answer that will help me learn to do so. I’m ready to begin . . .”

And with that, hope was restored once more. I went about with a renewed desire to serve, uplift, and help others. I jumped into the 12-step workbook of the LDS Family Services Addiction Recovery Program. The next Sunday, June 7^th, 2015 I wrote the following:

            “The ARP is amazing! It has made me look deep within to figure out the why behind my actions. It’s been quite humbling. I have much to improve upon and will do so one step at a time! I’m beginning to recognize the connection between my physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual self.”

The 12-step program proved to be more difficult than I imagined as each step forced me to look within to get to the root of the problem. Each step offered support, scriptures, and thought-provoking questions to get you to dig deeper and address the real issues. My issue wasn’t food; it was the why behind it. Why do I continually sabotage myself? I soon realized that this program isn’t just for addicts – it’s for anyone and everyone who struggles to overcome their “natural man” and weaknesses. It’s not a quick fix. It’s a process, a journey that can sometimes hurt as evidenced by the following journal entries:

Tuesday, June 16^th, 2015

            “Today has been a rough day battling my inner demons – the voices who scream my insecurities, my shortcomings, my frailties. The voices who desire to bring me down to a state of misery – doubting my worth, my talents, and my abilities. I’m ashamed to say that I have fed these thoughts as of late and as such, I’ve wallowed in my own self-pity looking for outside sources to lift me up and offer hope. I had a heartfelt conversation with my Heavenly Father tonight as the tears    streamed down. In that prayer, my mind was enlightened to know that which I am seeking for to quiet the negative thoughts comes from Jesus Christ – His grace, His enabling power is the key. Therefore, I will press forward with faith and hope. I know God loves me.”

Tuesday, June 23^rd, 2015

            “I feel like I am in a pinball machine. I am the ball bouncing all around – at least when it comes to my emotions. The tears are just below the surface, ready to rain down at any given moment. I have felt such a sense of loneliness lately as I’ve come face to face with my inner demons. Although, I recognize I am never truly alone. My Heavenly Father is always there watching over me – sending relief through others and healing through our Savior Jesus Christ. I am learning to exercise more trust in Him. I know that this current trial is a part of the refining process to transform me from coal to a diamond. I am so blessed to be surrounded by people who love and care for me. I will get through this and will be better because of it.”

Peace finally came as I continued to press on and work through the program each day.

Friday, June 25^th, 2015

            “The storm that has been raging inside me has finally quieted. Oh, the peace and joy which have replaced it. The ARP program is really helping me. I begin most mornings by actually waking before my kids – praying, reading scriptures, and studying my ARP booklet. This is an incredible feat for me who is not much of a morning person . . . I realize that as I take care of the stuff between my ears the voices of negativity are quieting. The Savior is assisting me with that – of this I am certain. I’m figuring out the mental, emotional, and spiritual stuff one step at a time. Now, I feel the need to exercise my physical self as well. Let my body and spirit work together in harmony. I’m excited to see where this program takes me.”

By July, I was feeling more stable again – mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. It had taken a year to get to that place. Some may wonder why this trial wasn’t removed or taken away initially when I had prayed and pleaded for relief. Our Heavenly Father sees the bigger picture. He has a plan for our lives and He knows what we need to experience to reach our full potential, to fill the measure of our creation. I learned more about myself during that difficult year and grew in remarkable ways. I have greater empathy for those who struggle with depression and/or other mental health issues as I’ve experienced how real the mental struggle can be. I’ve learned that we are all broken in one way or another. Our addiction, whether it is drinking, drugs, pornography, or food, isn’t the real issue. It’s the why behind it. Why am I medicating myself? What am I running away from?

Through the Addiction Recovery Program, I finally addressed issues that I had been unconsciously clinging to for years. Step 4 was incredibly difficult for me as evidenced in the words I wrote in my workbook:

            “It’s hard to face those inner demons and acknowledge my weaknesses and shortcomings. Doing the personal inventory has been empowering and freeing. I didn’t realize that I had been harboring ill feelings and holding grudges based on past hurts or times when I felt I’ve been wronged. I feel as though I’m beginning to break the chains which have held me captive. I’ve realized that I can’t move forward without addressing the issues of my past that are holding me back. Being completely honest with myself has been difficult and yet empowering. The truth is setting me free!”         

I gave voice to my frustrations, mourned my broken dreams, and then let it all go. I developed a greater relationship with my Savior Jesus Christ and learned how to utilize the enabling power of the Atonement (I’m still learning as I am a work in progress). I’m not perfect – a long way from it, but that’s okay. I’m beautiful, perfectly imperfect me! I’ve recognized that without Christ, I am weak. Yoked with Christ, I can accomplish great things, do hard things, and overcome my weaknesses.

If you’re struggling, know this – you are not alone! There is help available, but you must be willing to ask for it. It’s a hard thing to do. Believe me I know, but it is more than worth it. Surround yourself with people who uplift, encourage, and inspire you to be your best self. Turn to God and seek for His light. I am grateful that I was able to breakthrough the darkness that was holding me captive; to behold the majestic sunrise and experience the warmth of God’s light and love again. There is always hope. Never give up! You too, can rise with the Son to experience the full splendor and beauty that life has to offer.                                                                                             

                                                                                                            ~Love me~ Kristen

           

Pulling Weeds . . .

I'm not one of those people who grow a garden because I think it's fun. I have a garden to provide sustenance for my family. To be totally honest, I had never even stepped foot into a garden until I married a handsome cowboy who introduced me to country life. He planted a garden for us our first year of marriage and taught me everything he knew about planting, weeding, picking, and preserving. We have been a successful team gardening together for the past 11 years with our tribe. This year, however, he wasn't able to help as much due to his busy work schedule. Thus, most of the gardening was left to me . . . especially the never-ending task of weeding (which I loathe). Here are a few life lessons I gleaned from my garden this year:

1.) Anger begets negativity, which then feeds neglect and leads to deeply rooted mammoth weeds that choke the life from your tender plants . . . I was angry that my garden didn't produce a sufficient yield of peas to put up this year, despite my many efforts. I felt cheated and wronged by my garden. Consequently, I chose to have a negative attitude and pretty much ignore weeding the rest of my garden in a foolish attempt to somehow "teach" my garden a lesson (not the smartest thing I've ever done). However, I was taught the greater lesson - passive aggressive behavior and anger do not bring forth good fruit, rather they yield noxious weeds to afflict and torment man. The longer you ignore the problem (weeds) the deeper the roots grow and the harder it is to yank it out.

2.) It is not wise to attempt to weed in dry soil, as the weeds will break off and continue to grow, and your labor will have been in vain. However, if you saturate the soil with water, you are better able to yank the weeds up by the roots. This analogy came to me the other day: To me, saturating the soil with water is coming unto Christ and seeking for His help. He softens the hardness of our hearts (soil) and helps us pluck each weed so that the we can continue to grow and flourish unencumbered by pride, addictions, and sins which might otherwise choke the life from within us. Christ can help us get to the "root" of the problem and permanently remove it.

3.) 600 feet of deeply rooted weeds, waist high - can be overwhelming to tackle, even with wet, saturated soil. However, with a few good friends by your side, gloves on, hair tied back, and ready to work, you can move forward with the daunting task of finding your potatoes again. The thought of weeding my mammoth garden by myself was so disheartening that I put it off week after week. Finally, I realized that I couldn't do it alone and called three friends to help me - two to weed in the garden and one to watch my littles. Each of them were eager to help me clean up "my mess" - without judgment. And oh the joy that filled my heart as we finished those rows. It felt as though a great burden had been lifted. As my beautiful mother often says, "Life is about helping one another. We can't make it on our own. We need each other." She is right - we do need each other!

So friends, learn from my gardening and personal blunders: 1.) Let go of the anger, resentment, or hurt you may feel towards another - no matter how justified it might be. Nothing good will come of it. It'll only deepen the roots of bitterness within your own heart and choke out the beauty and joy within you. 2.) Allow the Savior into your heart, let Him saturate your soul with His love, and allow Him to pull out those deeply rooted weeds. He has the capacity to do such because He atoned for all of our sins, heartaches, struggles, and weaknesses. He knows how to succor us perfectly because He loves us personally and infinitely. 3.) We can't make it through this life on our own - we need each other. Surround yourself with good people who edify, uplift, encourage, and inspire you to be your best self. Learn to ask for help and be willing to receive it, and then in turn, help another. 

~Love me~Kristen

BE STILL . . .

In Psalms 46:10 it reads, “Be still and know that I am God.” And in Job 37:14, the Lord tells Job . . . “stand still and consider the wondrous works of God.”  

These two scriptures have influenced my life in many ways. In 2011, these passages of scripture  spoke volumes to my heart and offered me peace in a sea of uncertainty. The following is an excerpt from my journal following the birth of our fourth child just two months prior:

“I had one of those overwhelming days on Tuesday.  I found myself in the midst of pity party. I was missing my family as they are all together on vacation and I am 1,000+ miles away. I won't relive my pity party for you, but I was feeling pretty blue. The kids were fighting and crying, Gabe had gotten hurt for the umpteenth time that day (he is accident prone), beds were still not made after having washed the sheets, Adam was working late, the house that I had just cleaned was slipping away into disarray and chaos, and I had reached the end of my rope.

            I decided to give myself a time-out before I lost it. I walked outside and let myself escape into nature. I stopped, took a deep breath - breathing in the freshness of the recent rain, and let my mind wander as I admired the beauty of my surroundings. The sky was alive with vibrant colors as the setting sun engulfed the remaining storm clouds. Shades of pinks, oranges and yellows swirled and broke through the bleak grays and blues. I don't know that I've ever stared so intently at the sky - trying to capture the beauty in a series of mental snapshots. (I didn't dare get my camera for fear that the moment would slip away). Birds were chirping and a cool, gentle breeze kissed my cheeks. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to get lost in the moment.

            And as I did, a thought entered my mind, almost like a voice declaring, "Be still and know that I am God." I slowly opened my eyes and realized that I was beholding the majesty and love of God in the sunset, the mountains, and the breeze. God's love is everywhere, for everywhere that we look is the fingerprint of God. He created this beautiful world and all things in it, even me. He loves me for who I am - weaknesses and all. I took a deep breath, threw my head back and gazed again at the wondrous sky. I then began to pray. I asked the Lord to strengthen me and help me be the mom my children need me to be, the wife Adam needs be to be, the daughter, the sister, the friend I need to be.

            I drank in the beauty and serenity of that moment, realizing it was just what I needed. Abruptly, my dreamlike moment came to a screeching halt, with crying and shouts for me, the mom. I walked inside armed with a little more patience, love, and gentleness. I had been strengthened and enlightened.  It's amazing how the Lord can speak to us if we but stop and listen. How many times have I missed such opportunities because I was too busy trying to tackle my never-ending to-do list? More times than I care to admit. I'm grateful for that beautiful sunset and the opportunity it gave me to ponder and reflect upon my life . . .”  (Kristen’s Journal – July 19, 2011)

            Elder Richard G. Scott asked, “Do you take time to discover each day how beautiful your life can be? How long has it been since you watched the sun set? The departing rays kissing the clouds, trees, hills, and lowlands good night, sometimes tranquilly, sometimes with exuberant bursts of color and form. What of the wonder of a cloudless night when the Lord unveils the marvels of His heavens—the twinkling stars, the moonlight rays—to ignite our imagination with His greatness and glory?” (April 1996 General Conference)

            How long has it been since you watched the sun set? When was the last time that you allowed yourself to “Be Still?” It is my hope that you will join me and discover the peace that comes from being still – allowing yourself to draw closer to our Heavenly Father through daily communication with Him in prayer, that you will find answers to your questions through scripture study, and that you will feel of His love for you in the beauty of His creations. It is a timeless formula that continues to provide me peace in the midst of fierce storms to the chaos of everyday life. Try it for yourself and see if it works for you too.

~Love me~ Kristen

           

            

           

            

Seasons of Loneliness . . .

I am a young girl watching my three older brothers wrestle around, embark on grand adventures with their bikes, and tease each other. I long to be one of the boys, to have the sort of relationship they have. Even when I’m invited to play, I feel like an outsider and am filled with loneliness.

I am a tomboy – chubby and larger than all of my adolescent friends during the awkward “tween” years. I am filled with loneliness as I long to be thinner, prettier, and garner the attention of boys.

I am a freshman in high school - pretty, curvy and slender (for me), outgoing, popular, and have many friends. Yet, I feel alone as I try to make sense of who I am and the choices before me. Sadness overshadows me as I allow my insecurities to take the wheel.

I am 18, standing in my dorm room, 1,000 miles from home, waving goodbye to my parents, the tears welling in my eyes. I feel that ache of loneliness as I seek to find my place, where I belong in this new realm of adulthood and college life.

 I am a newlywed sitting on the stairs of our first home together sobbing on the phone to my sister-in-law. The loneliness of living on a dead-end country road in an old farm house is threatening to ensnare me. I miss the hustle and bustle of life in a busy apartment complex surrounded by friends.

Fast forward just 20 months later; I am consumed with loneliness and uncertainty as a new mother – a huge wave of insecurity threatens to envelop me. As much as I love being home with my son, I long for interaction with others. The days are long. I talk my husband’s ear off when he walks through the door.

I am new to town, pregnant with our second child, and longing for a familiar face. My dad has just been diagnosed with cancer 1,000 miles away. Worry and loneliness consume me. My husband is worried about me.

I am living in an old log cabin up in the mountains, now pregnant with our third child. I love the beauty which surrounds me, living next to my in-laws, and raising our kids on the farm. Yet, I long for friendship – to find my place in this little community. It is a new sense of loneliness.

I am a 32-year-old stay-at-home mom of five, happily married to my best friend for the last 11 years, living the life we dreamed of together, richly blessed in more ways than I can count, surrounded with breathtaking beauty each day, encircled with loving family and incredible friends, and yet, I am pained with feelings of insecurity and loneliness once again. How can I feel so alone when I am surrounded by so much love?

As I look back on the seasons of loneliness I’ve experienced, there seems to be a common thread – CHANGE. Change brings about loneliness (for me anyway). I am currently working on improving myself and taking control of my life again – making some pretty BIG changes. It is a difficult process fighting the nameless, faceless enemy that resides within me – my inner demons. They scream out my insecurities, my faults, and try to beat me down – instilling doubt, fear, and even feelings of loneliness and despair. However, I am not in this fight alone. My Heavenly Father and my Savior Jesus Christ are fighting with me and for me. I know that they love me and desire my happiness. You see, I’ve never been alone. God has always been with me – providing relief through others, tender mercies, and healing through our Savior’s Atonement. Therefore, I will continue to trust and exercise my faith in my Heavenly Father. He will see me through this, as He has in times past. It’s going to be a difficult, even painful journey - but such is the process of transforming coal into a diamond.

Elizabeth George suggests, “Allow God to use the difficulties and disappointments in life as polish to transform your faith into a glistening diamond that takes in and reflects His love.”

Whatever season of loneliness you may be experiencing from the awkwardness of youth to finding your place in the world; to waiting for the next step – whether that be marriage, children, or a career to the ache of unfulfilled dreams and empty arms; to the chaos of parenthood and the silence of an empty nest; to the death of a loved one, the loss of health, and the sting of age. . .  YOU ARE NEVER ALONE! Our Heavenly Father loves you. You are His child. He has a plan for your life – a plan that includes refinement. Hold on and reach out to Him in the darkness of despair and loneliness. He will offer relief to the broken hearted and hope to the hopeless just as He has done for me. Seasons of loneliness will ebb and flow, just remember you are never alone.  ~Love me~ Kristen

Sorrow That the Eye Can't See

I've had these thoughts running through my mind for quite a few weeks now, but not a lot of time to put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard, as the case may be.) I finally decided that if I want to get this post done, I must MAKE the time, for it cannot be found anywhere.

A few weeks ago in Relief Society, we were singing one of my favorite hymns, and the lines struck a note in me. "Who am I to judge another, when I walk imperfectly? In the quiet heart is hidden, sorrow that the eye can't see. Who am I to judge another? Lord I would follow thee."

As I sat there, singing the words, a feeling of shame and sorrow washed over me. I thought of the many, many, MANY critical and unkind thoughts I had running through my head about my fellow brothers and sisters that week. I thought of all the unkind words I had spoken to my children, to my spouse, the ones I hadn't said to strangers but I certainly had thought them!!  I thought of the many ways I had failed to see the sorrows of my fellow man and respond in a loving and compassionate way. I thought of all the times I had judged another, without knowing the whole story, without mercy or compassion in my heart. My heart was heavy as I thought about all the ways I walk along this path so very imperfectly.

The truth is, we are all walking along this path in a very imperfect way. We are all struggling to do the best we know how, in a world that is fraught with sin, struggles, sorrows  and wickedness. The truth is, we are all, each and every one of us, sinners, struggling to get back to our Father. So, really, who am I to judge another, just because they sin differently than I do? Just because their weakness is not mine, doesn't mean I shouldn't have compassion for their struggle, their battle, their war. The truth is, they are my brother, my sister, fighting a battle I may not understand. Struggling with sorrows I cannot see.

The question then, for me, is this: How can I love my brother? How can I do a better job of loving and serving those around me? Does it matter that their sorrows may have been caused by their own actions? Shouldn't we still love and lift to the best of our ability?

I think back to a time when my own actions caused much sorrow in my life, and the lives of those who loved me. I am so grateful to those who loved me without judging me, who helped me find a way back to the path, who helped me to feel the love of my Heavenly Father, without condemning me, or criticizing me for losing my way in the first place. Where would I be without them? I don't know, but I am pretty sure it would be a much darker place than I currently occupy.

The truth is, every person you know, every single one of us, is carrying burdens that the world can't see. Sometimes they are giant boulders in our paths, like the death of a loved one, or illness, or addictions that have caused our world to spiral completely out of control. Sometimes they are pebbles in our shoe, that irritation that just won't go away. Always, we need the love and compassion of our fellow man to help us get through them.

So how can we love our brother?  A few ideas from my oh-so-wise Facebook friends:

• Pray: I, for one, believe in the miraculous power of prayer. When I feel helpless, like there is not one thing I can do to make a difference, I pray. It unites our faith with our Father, and can help bring about mighty miracles in the lives of those we love.  
• Be Kind: Be that safe place, that refuge. Listen without judging, without giving unwanted advice, without thinking in your head about all the ways you would have done it better. (I never do that, ever.) (Using my sarcasm font here, in case you were wondering just how self-righteous I can be.)     
• Serve: It doesn't have to be huge, a smile, a note, a nod at the grocery store. A Dr. Pepper left at the door of a friend you know is having a rough day. Sometimes, it is the little actions of others that let us know that God still knows we're here, struggling along, trying our best to keep swimming, Dory-like, even when we can't remember why. 

It comes down to love, Without judgement, without restrictions, without boundaries. It is looking at our brothers and sisters, and trying to see them as our Father sees them, with limitless potential and endless beauty. I know I have such a long way to go in this endeavor, but my hope is that, in writing this down, in recognizing the desire for improvement, maybe next time I sing those beautiful words, I can feel a tiny bit less guilty...  ~Kim

Just another episode of COPS, except I'm living it!

I'll never forget a particularly warm summer day three kids ago. . . I loaded up my boys and drove "oh so carefully" to town. I slowly pulled into the parking lot at Target and parked my grandma mobile. I decided to first get a shopping cart - (this is just far easier to do without my baby in my arms while trying to restrain my two-year-old from running in the parking lot). I pulled the cart around to the side of the car to get my toddler out. As I am lifting him into the basket of the cart, I recall a news story I read about people snatching purses out of carts. So being a "safe" mom, I threw my purse over my shoulder, checked to make sure my keys were in my purse, locked the doors, and then proceeded to get baby G out.

I had just gotten my baby unbuckled when I realized the shopping cart with my precious cargo (toddler L) was gone! Bewildered, I looked up to see my son flying down the parking lot in the shopping cart. At that exact moment the cart hit a car that was backing up. Mortified, and the adrenaline pumping through my veins like Wonder Woman, I ran to my toddler at world record pace. He was smiling and absolutely fine. I quickly mumbled an apology to the teenager driver, who looked at me as though I were a mental patient. She smiled politely and left. I wheeled my precious cargo back to the car, grateful that he was unscathed.

However, in the midst of the shopping cart commotion, I had shut the door (the door that I had already locked). I then reached for my purse and realized it too was in the car with baby G. What was I to do? I couldn't very well just leave him in the car while I went in search of help. I'd be charged as a negligent mother for sure! Fortunately, at that exact moment a sweet old lady pulled in beside me (a tender mercy from God). I quickly explained the situation to her and asked if she could stand by my car while I went for help. She happily agreed. I ran into the store with my toddler tank on my hip. I scanned the store and saw a security officer. I flagged him down and he called the police to assist me.

I was waiting in the parking lot for a few minutes with the security officer, the sweet old lady holding an umbrella to shield the sun from my baby, and my toddler dancing in the cart, when a patrol car pulls up. The officer gets out assesses the situation and tells me he doesn't have the right tool to get the door open, but that another officer should be there momentarily. Baby G, who was unbuckled, is now crawling around the car enjoying his freedom. Then an officer on a motorcycle arrives. Again, he doesn't have the right tool. By this point, I'm beyond embarrassed as it appears I’m living an episode of COPS. People are staring, some are glaring, and there's not a thing I can do about it.

Another patrol car arrives. I'm now surrounded by police officers on all sides. The officers are chatting with each other; some are playing with baby G through the glass. Finally, a patrol car with the right tool arrives. At this point, a lady brings me a bottle of water – (another tender mercy). The officer gets the door open in a matter of seconds. I get baby G out, look him over, and decide that he is just fine - not even breaking a sweat yet. I thank the officers and the sweet old lady for all of their help as they leave. I want nothing more than to drive home, but I’ve driven 45 minutes to run my errands and I can’t leave empty-handed. So, I square my shoulder, take a deep breath, strap my boys in the cart, and proceed into the store . . .

Moral of the story: (other than displaying my many mishaps as a mom) despite our best intentions, things can go wrong. Fortunately, (as has been the case for me time and time again) God provides tender mercies – usually in the form of a kind person who offers to shield the sun from my baby locked in the car, to the many officers who responded so quickly to assist us in our time of need, to the kind woman who brought me a bottle of water. There is goodness all around us, if we but open our eyes to see it. To me, the kindness of others is but an extension of God’s love.

So friends, how will you help another today? Will you stand idly by, uncertain of what to do, worrying about what others will think of you, and how this may interrupt your plans for the day? Or will you accept the call to act and help another who may be having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day? It may be as simple as a smile, a hug, a note of appreciation, holding the door open . . . to the more complex tasks of making someone dinner, running an elderly woman to the grocery store, or helping someone change a flat tire. Whatever you do, I firmly believe that kindness returns full circle. So, let us be kind. Let us give people the benefit of the doubt. Let us be instruments in God’s hands to help and uplift those in need - we may just be the answer to their prayers.

~Love me~Kristen

The Wrong Line and Integrity . . .

So, I've come to the conclusion that I am magnetically drawn to the wrong line in the grocery store. You know the lines, where it's the cashier's first day, the bank card won't work, lady has more coupons than I do diapers for my children, etc. Such has been my experience more often than not. This is the infamous story of my adventure with three kids (three and under) in tow at a large grocery store for the annual caselot sale.

As we enter the store, my three-year-old spots the race car cart and decides that this is what we need for our shopping experience. I mean this thing is the Cadillac of shopping carts - just as large and awkward to steer as the Cadi's of the 60's. So, I oblige him and drag the kids back into a cubby hole filled with hundreds of carts. Fortunately, the race car cart was near the front so that I didn't have to juggle the carts too much. My young boys excitedly jump into their race car, ready to conquer the store. I, on the other hand, realize that I have a problem, a rather big problem. Where am I going to put my baby? I can't very well put her in the basket. I mean, I'm at the caselot sale and I have a long list of items, where would I put all of my cases of food? And did I mention this fancy race car, covers the bottom rack of the cart, so that is clearly not an option for stacking food. I try to convince my boys that we should get a different cart, but they wouldn’t hear it. It was like trying to convince my boys that liver and onions tastes better than ice cream - it's not going to happen. Anyway, I decide to break the rules, ignore the clearly marked posting on the cart that says, "Do not put your child here." I figured I could balance her car seat on the bar between the basket and the race car and she wouldn't fall. I was right. It was a perfect fit; however, I am what you would call, vertically challenged or short. With my sweet baby up on that bar in a car seat I could barely see over her to steer the cart.

So, I set off with high hopes of tackling my list in the shortest time possible and without any tears, fights, or whining. As I begin, I realize just how difficult it is to push this race car, Cadillac cart. Here I am trying to go up and down aisles in a grocery store that I am not familiar with, realizing that what I want is now behind me. I attempt to turn my cart around and nearly take out a cardboard display of soups. I decide to just back up. At this point, I realize that I need a little beeper like they have on the motorized scooters to warn other patrons that I am in motion. That and perhaps a wide load sign. You should have seen the looks I was getting. I don't know if they were looks of sympathy, frustration, awe, or please don't run my children over!

Somehow, I managed to find most of what I needed and a few other things that I didn't really need. I was truly becoming quite a spectacle. My basket was overflowing, I had boxes shoved underneath my boys' feet and I still needed buckets and rolled oats. After walking up and down 17 different aisles, I finally found the buckets. Now where to put them? I rearranged the items in my basket for the fourth time and managed to secure my buckets into the cart, however, now I can't see over Callie and the buckets. This creates quite the situation. I decided to press on. I was on a mission, you see and there wasn't anything that was going to stop me. I decided to stop and ask for directions to the rolled oats and was directed to a narrow cubby in the front of the store. By this point, I almost have to get a running start to even get my cart moving. I reach my destination and realize that the oats are in a 50 lb. bag. Now, I'm an optimist and a realist. I realized there was no way I could fit this into my cart. I decided to head to the check-out and let the cashier know that I wanted one of those bags of oats to add to my already bulging cart.

I found a short line and thought, "Yay me! I survived the caselot sale without any tears, fights or whining. My baby didn't fall off of the cart and I didn't run anyone over." I was feeling pretty proud of myself. I approached the cashier and jokingly stated, "You are going to love me with all these groceries!" He said something humorous in return and I thought I'll be out of here and on my way home within minutes . . . or so I thought.

I'm pretty sure it had to be the cashier's first day. He did fairly well at ringing up my regular groceries. He only deleted one item, however with my caselot stuff, it was a nightmare. Now, with most caselot sales, you just tell the cashier what you have and how many and they punch in the codes so that you don't have to unload everything. My cashier didn't know any of the codes and apparently wasn't given a "code book." So, the bagger boy, trying to be helpful, would read him the bar code. I watched in awe and stunned silence as the cashier typed only two of the 7-10 numbers bagger boy just read. The poor kid just didn't know where the numbers were or couldn't type fast enough. Then, cashier boy would say it didn't work. Bagger boy would then read numbers again and AGAIN it somehow didn't work. Now, I've been a cashier at a grocery store before and I know it can be a bit stressful, so I was really trying to be patient and understanding. But, as the line behind me continued to grow with people in a hurry (who seemed to think that this was somehow my fault) giving me dirty looks, I began to lose patience. Cashier boy finally found his book and entered a few codes correctly. Yay for him! But then he would accidentally delete the item and we would be back at square one. He entered a wrong code for applesauce and almost charged me over $50 for what should have cost maybe $8. I started unloading my Cadillac and putting items to be scanned, while bagger boy held my 50lb bag of rolled oats on his shoulder. I was almost to the point of getting mean and getting mad. Finally, somehow, by some miraculous means I was exiting the store with my Cadillac of carts overflowing with groceries and children after checking out for nearly 15 minutes.

Bagger boy offered his assistance, and well, I had to accept it because there was no way I could get everything to my car by myself. Once at my car, I told bagger boy to put the buckets in my front seat so that I could get everything into my trunk. Bagger boy didn't listen and threw them in my trunk, at which point I dismissed him. I mean, he wasn't going to do it right anyway and I had had enough! Well, here I am with my three kids in the cart, unloading groceries when a lady who was behind me in line, comes up to me and offers her assistance. What a kind and sweet woman. So, together we loaded my car with several cases of food and other groceries. I thanked her for her help, loaded up the kiddos, started the car and was ready to finally leave the large unfamiliar grocery store, when a thought entered my mind, "check your receipt."

This seemed like a good idea, given the many complications that had occurred in the checkout line. I took out my shopping list and compared it to my receipt and what do you know? Cashier boy didn't charge me for a case of juice. Now, at this point you might be thinking, just forget about it. You deserve the free juice after your horrendous experience. But, I couldn't. A line from a *General Conference talk kept repeating in my mind, “Are you willing to sell your integrity for a 25-cent newspaper and three hotel towels?” My integrity was worth more than the $10 of juice. So, I turned off my car, unbuckled my children, and marched across the parking lot with three kiddos in tow to pay for the juice. I can't say that I had the best attitude about the situation, but I was grateful that I had done the right thing for my conscience was clear. The cashier was genuinely surprised as I returned to pay for the juice.

I don’t tell this story to boast of myself, but to illustrate that we each have opportunities to exhibit honesty and integrity daily. Sometimes those opportunities present themselves at the most inopportune times. We may be prone to make excuses to justify our inactions thinking no one will ever know. But dear friends, you know and our Heavenly Father knows and the guilt that follows can be a heavy burden to carry. I am by no means perfect or even close to it. I have made and continue to make mistakes, but I’ve learned that mistakes can be the best teacher, if we utilize them as opportunities for growth by repenting, improving and striving to be better. 

How will you respond when your integrity is on the line? Are you willing to sell your integrity for a 25-cent newspaper and three hotel towels (or in my case, a case of juice)? It is my hope that we will be men and women of integrity striving to do that which is right at all times and in all places.

~Love me~Kristen

* Link for the talk

https://www.lds.org/general-conference/2006/10/three-towels-and-a-25-cent-newspaper?lang=eng

At the Crossroads of Faith and Fear

I found myself at the crossroads of faith and fear following a dream. A dream that was so vivid and real that I could almost feel the flickering warmth and fading light of the infant in my arms and shredding pains of a broken heart. The dream left a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that I couldn’t escape. Although I was only a few weeks along in my pregnancy, I knew my unborn child was a boy and that something was dreadfully wrong.

I survived the next few months of uncertainty with prayer. However, the reality of my dream was confirmed during a routine ultrasound as I watched the technician’s face – her smile faded as the conversation ceased. She excused herself and left the room. I turned to my husband, “Something is wrong with our baby. I’ve known it all along.” My husband had known it too. I was surprisingly calm as we learned about our son’s diagnosis of a potentially life threatening defect in his lung – the Lord had prepared me. 

I held my emotions in check for a few days (without shedding a single tear), but then doubt and worry crept in. I felt as though the Lord had given my family more than we could bear: my husband was without work, there were bills to pay, a larger vehicle to purchase, three young children to care for, not to mention the stress and uncertainty with our unborn son. I felt overwhelmed and defeated. Finally, I gave in. The dam broke and the tears burst forth. I sought refuge in my husband’s arms and found solace in his words, “We can only worry about the things that are in our control – turn the rest over to the Lord.”

It was then that I found myself at the crossroads of faith and fear. I had to choose which of these polar forces would govern my future course. I petitioned the Lord in prayer for direction and comfort, searched the scriptures for answers, had a long therapy session with my journal, and received a priesthood blessing. It was in those still, quiet moments that I was able to feel of my Heavenly Father’s love and concern for me. The storm inside me began to subside as the Lord whispered, “Peace, be still.” With renewed strength and fortitude, I chose the path of faith – to trust in the Lord’s plan for me, my family, and our son – regardless of what the outcome may be.

Faith and hope sustained me through an even darker storm when our son showed the early signs of heart failure while in-utero. Family, friends, and church members united in prayer and fasting. The Lord, in His infinite goodness and mercy, revealed His matchless love with a miracle.  Our son’s condition dramatically improved within a week. His heart returned to its normal position and the cysts began shrinking in his lung. I cried, but this time with tears of joy and gratitude. I felt as though the Lord had opened the windows of Heaven and was showering my family with blessings as our burdens were made light.

More trials came our way with our son’s birth and complications with his heart and lungs. Yet, I was continually sustained with faith and a feeling of peace that everything would be okay. We found it fitting to give our son Cole the middle name of Ishmael – which in Hebrew means “God hears.” Cole is a living testament that God hears and answers prayers and that miracles still occur in our day.

Through Cole, I have learned to “Be Still and Trust God” in all things. I know that Heavenly Father loves us. We are His children and He has a plan for our lives. If we allow ourselves to “Be Still,” He will whisper to our hearts those things that we desire to know and will encircle us in His everlasting arms of love. So when you find yourself at your own crossroads of faith and fear, I pray that you will choose faith. Faith allowed me the opportunity to drink from a well of spiritual strength I never knew I possessed and to come to know my Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, more intimately.

Dancing with FEAR

FEAR is an ugly four letter word that we inflict upon ourselves. It is something that has plagued mankind since the Fall of Adam and Eve. For some, fear is a constant companion, while for others, a mere acquaintance. Fear can be the paralyzer of life, an experience-crusher, and the thief of dreams. Fear has a way of creating obstacles that stand in the way of our progression. However, as we learn to dance with our fears and face them head on, we can become stronger, wiser, more confident, and better prepared for life’s challenges. The following experiences illustrate what I learned from dancing with FEAR.

THE PARALYZER OF LIFE:

High in the mountains on cool, crisp autumn day, I unknowingly waltzed with FEAR. My husband, our three older children, and I spent the day under the cotton candy clouds cutting and loading firewood onto the trailer. It was late in the afternoon; we were nearly done, when the chainsaw became sandwiched in a tree. We sent the kids to stand by the truck while Adam walked me (his mechanically-challenged wife) through the plan: I was to hold the chainsaw like so, pull it out when I felt the give in the tree, and then run swiftly to the right and out of the way.

My heart began to race as the adrenaline coursed through my veins. I took a deep breath, and carefully placed my hands on the chainsaw. He began to push the tree back and forth when suddenly I felt that give. I pulled the chainsaw out in one smooth motion, suddenly aware of the unfamiliar feel and weight of the chainsaw in my hands. Then I began to run with the speed of a gazelle in flight. My knees high, bounding over the dry leaves and fallen branches. My celebratory thoughts were interrupted with Adam - yelling at me. I was perplexed. Why was he yelling at me? Couldn’t he see how swift I was running with the chainsaw in perfect position? Confused and frustrated, the profanity spewed from me lips as I yelled, “Why are you yelling at me?” He yelled louder, more earnestly, with a look of helplessness on his face, “Move now!” Huh? I darted to the right and watched the tree crash down.

While driving home, Adam related to me what had occurred (from his perspective). I had followed steps one and two beautifully, but apparently failed miserably at step three: run swiftly out of the way. You see, fear wrapped it’s tentacles around my feet (and probably my mind) leaving me paralyzed, running in place, chainsaw in hand while Adam gazed helplessly at me. Fortunately, his loud voice was able to pierce through the veil of fear that was holding me captive. I narrowly missed being crushed by the tree. In that moment, I realized the paralyzing effects of fear and vowed to give more heed to directions and try to remain calm in stressful situations where I feel inadequate.

THE EXPERIENCE-CRUSHER:

 On a warm, sunny winter day, I attempted to Texas-two-step with FEAR and ended up in tears. To begin, I am not a fan of heights (at all). However, I decided to be brave and try skiing again. I felt confident as I cut back and forth down the bunny hill. However, that confidence vanished as I neared the ski lift. FEAR took the reigns (overriding common sense) - which lead me to NOT notice the lap bar - which INCREASED my anxiety and caused me to play out several scenarios of me plummeting to my death – which caused me to MISS the bright yellow sign explaining how to safely exit the ski lift – which led me to PANIC and ultimately caused me to crash as I JUMPED from the lift (skis and poles flying).

Shrouded in a wet, wool blanket of FEAR, my adventure down the mountain was terrifying! The sheer drop-off of the mountain within a 1/8 mile definitely didn’t help. I crashed several times over, struggled to get my skis back on and ended up slalom skiing a time or two down the mountain, and then there were TREES in the middle of the course! What the? Why would they do that? I was able to recall with perfect clarity the many stories I’ve read of people dying because they skied into a tree - which increased my ANXIETY even more! After several more falls, I had had enough. I took off my skis and WALKED down the rest of the mountain. Once I was safe on flat ground, the dam broke and the tears cascaded down my cheeks. I couldn’t believe how real the FEAR was and the control I had given it.

Following another round of tears, lunch, and comforting words from family, I decided to give it a go one more time. I couldn't leave knowing that I had quit and walked down the mountain. I charged the bunny hill and showed it a thing or two (and may have lost a pole and fallen over on the conveyor belt that pulls you up the little hill), but I gradually worked up the courage to try a green run again. The ride on the ski lift was less scary with a lap belt and I even managed to exit somewhat gracefully. My run down the mountain was marked with many falls (the ski patrol checking on me), some more slalom skiing, and a little walking, but I finished the run upright and on both skis. Nelson Mandela once said, “I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.” I wouldn’t say I conquered FEAR, but I didn’t quit (even though I really, really wanted to), so therefore, I am brave. I gained greater personal insight that day and learned the value of laughter.

THE THIEF OF DREAMS:

“There is only one thing that makes a dream impossible to achieve:
the fear of failure.” -Paulo Coelho

Following an explosive creative session with my brother on a beautiful spring day, I began to tango with FEAR. Having talked about writing a book together for years, we were finally together brainstorming and doing something about it . . . it was both exciting and frightening. I began to realize that it is far easier to talk about something than to actually do it. Upon returning home, self-doubt and fear of failure swept in. Am I up for such a task? Do I even have the time? Am I a good enough writer? Where do I begin? What am I thinking – writing a book? Who would read it? What if I fail? If I fail, if reflects not only on me but also upon my brother . . . And so, my thoughts gave way to FEAR which gave way to excuses, inaction, and guilt. My notes have been collecting nothing but dust for the past month.

Yann Martel author of Life of Pi, said, “[Fear] goes for your weakest spot, which it finds with unnerving ease. It begins in your mind, always ... so you must fight hard to express it. You must fight hard to shine the light of words upon it. Because if you don't, if your fear becomes a wordless darkness that you avoid, perhaps even manage to forget, you open yourself to further attacks of fear because you never truly fought the opponent who defeated you.”

I was talking with a dear friend the other day about my fears with the book. It was the first time I had voiced my concerns. She listened intently, offered insight, reassured me of my abilities, and then simply told me to start writing. Giving voice to my fears was quite liberating and empowering as I was no longer bound to FEAR like a slave, but free to pursue my dreams. Writing this piece has given me the clarity and the courage to pursue my dream. Therefore, I will follow the wise advice of my friend and start writing. I don’t have to have all the answers to my questions to begin. I just need to commence and cast the FEAR aside.

Is FEAR holding you back – paralyzing your life, crushing your experiences, or stealing your dreams? If so, then it is time to choose your definition of F-E-A-R:

Forget Everything And Run or Face Everything And Rise. 

The choice is yours.

It is my hope that we will rise and face our FEARS. In doing so, I know that we will become stronger, wiser, more confident, and better prepared for life’s challenges.   ~Love me~Kristen

MAGICAL MOMENTS . . .

There is a common misconception floating around that daily life is magical – the house is immaculate, the children perfectly behaved, dinners are gourmet, your spouse brings you flowers each day, you accomplish everything on your to-do list, and life is picture perfect . . . only life is rarely this way (at least for me). Most days my house is in disarray, dirty dishes are stacked in the sink, kids are screaming and/or crying, dinner is whatever we can put in a tortilla, my to-do list is crumpled under the stack of papers from school, and I am still in my yoga pants when my husband walks in the door. More often than not, life is ordinary as we simply run through the motions trying to take care of the countless have-to’s each day. If we’re not careful, we can find ourselves going through life on auto-pilot – not fully aware of the beauty around us, the power of human touch, or the joy to be had. I’ve come to the conclusion that while everyday life is not all that magical, there are magical moments in everyday life.

So how do we experience such magical moments in the busyness of life? We switch off auto-pilot, open our eyes, and become cognizant of the world around us.

I experienced a magical moment just the other night. Although, I was tired, dishes were stacked in the sink and I was adorned in my yoga pants, glasses, and pony tail – I took the opportunity to dance with my husband. I turned on my favorite song (the one that spoke the sentiments of my heart), took him by the hand, and said, “Dance with me.” He wrapped his arms around me and we slow-danced in the kitchen. Not a word was spoken as our hearts found rhythm with each other’s and we moved effortlessly across the wood floor. In that “moment,” it was as though time stood still – the stress, the struggles, and the worries of the day all melted away and were replaced with love – pure, sweet love. The tears silently fell as I burrowed my head into his chest. I was overcome with such admiration for my husband – the sacrifices he makes for our family, his honesty in telling me like it is, for the way he cares for our children, how he can frustrate me to tears, the security I feel in his arms, the way we laugh together, and the way he inspires me to be the best version of me. Within those four minutes, our hearts reconnected in the most magical of ways . . . without words. It was truly beautiful.

So when’s the last time you stopped to live in the “moment?” My challenge to you and me is this: stop feeding the misconception that everyday life is magical and start creating magical moments within everyday life. Find ways to connect with another person – take a walk together, play a game with your child, kneel in prayer with your spouse, watch birds together (if that’s your thing), watch the sunset – it doesn’t matter what you do – just be there 100%, no distractions. Upon doing so, record your experience, your thoughts and feelings, and then pay attention to your attitude the next few days. Yes, struggles will still exist, there will still be demands upon your time, and the never-ending to-do list, but there just might be a smile upon your lips, a skip in your step, and hope in your heart. It is such ‘moments” as slow dancing in the kitchen that can carry us through the darkest of storms to getting through the monotony of daily life. Let’s awaken to beauty and wonder around us and create magical moments with the ones we love most!

-Love me- Kristen

R.O.U.S. - AN INITIATION INTO COUNTRY LIVING

To preface this post: Gary Allan sang, "Life ain't always beautiful. Sometimes it's just plain hard. Life can knock you down . . ." The following experience wasn't beautiful. It was hard at the time and now, well, it's funny. This occurred some years ago following the birth of our third child. We had just moved to the farm and were living in 100+ years-old home. I was still adjusting to life in the country, when we encountered an R.O.U.S. (rodent of unusual size from The Princess Bride) It was the only time in my life, I wanted to pack my bags and run away . . .

 It was nearly midnight and my husband was doing work on the computer. I checked on my sleeping boys, kissed them goodnight, and proceeded into the living room when I heard the most unusual noise. I quickly took into account where everyone was - the boys were sleeping in their room, Adam was on the computer and my baby asleep in her bassinet. It clearly couldn't be any of them making such noises. I thought perhaps it was a mouse. I crept into the doorway of the kitchen and listened . . . there was that noise again - like a grunt and a thump. In an act of bravery, I turned on the light to find a . . .  rat - yes, a R-A-T!! That filthy varmint scurried across my kitchen floor and hid in the shadows behind the stove. I stifled a scream and bounded through the house, my feet barely touching the floor. Upon seeing Adam, I blurted out, "rat . . . kitchen . . . stove . . . kill it!"

Adam raced from his chair and into the kitchen. He grabbed the fire poker and began his noble quest to slay the rat. He got it cornered and then it disappeared. He raced to his parent's house and grabbed a few rat traps to place throughout the house. And then we waited . . . no movement for over half an hour. Sleep beckoned to us. I checked on the children again and said a special prayer that we would be watched over that night as the images from Lady and the Tramp of the rat and the baby haunted my dreams.

I was rudely and abruptly awaken to the sound of jars crashing to the ground in the pantry and Adam shouting, "You rat bastard, you son of a b-----, I'm gonna kill you!" It took me a few moments to figure out just where I was and what was going on. Adam called to me to come help him. Me? Help kill a rat? He told me to stand on a bucket and shine the flashlight on the rat while he ran to get his BB gun. In my sleepy trance, I hit my head on the doorway and choice words slipped from my lips, but I bravely held the flashlight until Adam returned. He returned gun in hand and took aim at the rat that was hiding behind a bucket. He hit him, but it didn't kill the stupid thing. Instead, the rat bolted and slipped through Adam's traps and back into the kitchen. How frustrating! Especially for Adam. He searched and searched for that rat for the next hour, but couldn't find him. We fell back into the most restless sleep.

We had hoped to find a dead rat in a trap, but no such luck. That morning over breakfast, I prayed that we could find "that" rat and kill it so that our house could be a clean house, a house of order. When I finished I looked up to see Adam with the biggest grin on his face. In response to my question as to why he was smiling, he replied, "I've never heard anyone pray to kill something, especially a rat." Well, I decided that we needed the Lord's help in ridding our house of this most unwelcome guest. Adam set more traps before he left that morning. I decided that I didn't want to be in our house that day. So I spent most of the day outside with the kiddos and ran errands in town. I prayed many times that day that we could find that rat and kill it, as did our three-year-old son. But to no avail, our prayers weren't answered that day. . .

The next morning, Adam woke me with a kiss and a smile as he left for work and asked, "Do you want to hear some great news?" He then told me about how he found "that" rat dead in one of our traps in the kitchen. I've never experienced such a joyful feeling as I did in that particular moment! I felt like breaking out into song, like Julie Andrews in the Sound of Music, running down the road in my pj's singing, "We're still alive and 'that' rat is dead . . . " I know that God answered our prayers, helping us rid our house of that filthy varmint. We offered many prayers of gratitude as we scrubbed and sanitized the house again.

Unfortunately, our experience with the R.O.U.S was just the beginning. In the next week, I would discover that mice had invaded our storage shed - marked their territory, pooped on clothes, and chewed through blankets. At this point, I wanted to abandon life in the country all together - (irrational Kristen was at the wheel with her foot on the accelerator ready to put it in drive). Fortunately, my wise husband was able to talk me through our dilemma to help me see the good in these experiences. I thought of the experiences of Corrie ten Boom in The Hiding Place. She taught that we ought to give thanks in all things. She thanked the Lord for fleas while as a prisoner of war, not knowing until later that the fleas proved to be a blessing for her and others. (If you haven't read this book, you ought to. It is life-changing). I didn't give thanks for the rodents, but I did take time to ponder on the blessings our country life affords us. In doing so, I realized that, for us, this was the best place to raise our family (rodents and all).

 We also learned invaluable lessons: 1.) How to properly store things - Rubbermaid totes with the lids duct-taped shut. 2.) Install screen door to aid in keeping door closed because kids forget . . . everyday! 3.) How blessed we are that we have ways to rid our homes of varmint. 4.) We get to choose how we will respond to life's circumstances. 5.) God is aware of our concerns from the serious to the trivial. If it's important to us, it's important to Him. 6.) Outdoor cats are a great asset in controlling the population of rodents.


I consider that summer of the R.O.U.S.'s as my initiation into country living. Sure, it was a rather trying time for us - but I can laugh, and even smile, as I recount those long summer days. As Gary Allan sings, ". . . the struggles make you stronger. And the changes make you wise . . ." Those experiences (and countless others) have shaped me into the woman I am today and hopefully made me stronger and wiser. I thank God for such experiences. I still loathe rodents, but I LOVE our country life on the farm and know that it is the best place for our family.
 ~Love me~Kristen

You Might Be a Momma....

So it's late and I should be sleeping. Wish someone would inform my brain of that fact, because it won't go to sleep. Lucky for you, or not depending on how this post turns out.

I am a fan of Jeff Foxworthy. Maybe I shouldn't admit it, but his You Might Be lists crack me up. In honor of mothers everywhere on this our very favorite day, I give you this list. Now, these may or may not be actual events from my life, but only I will know for sure.

YOU MIGHT BE A GOOD MOMMA IF:

• You skipped your daughter's band concert to attend book club, then felt guilty as the discussion centered on the really wonderful mother figure who did everything for her surrogate children.
• You reached out to comfort your distressed son in your warm embrace, only to have him vomit all over you. 
• Your husband put you in "time out" during a LOVELY (Do you hear the sarcasm there??) Family Home Evening because of your raging pregnancy hormones. (In my defense, no woman is safe from crazy prego hormones.) Thankfully, said husband lived to see another day.
• You have a secret stash of chocolate that you never, ever share with your children.
• Your daughter informed her brand-new, never met before teacher that she helps mom with the new baby by bringing mom the BREAST PADS.
• You sometimes hide in the bathroom and pretend you don't hear those kiddos fighting while you read a book.
• You let the dishes, laundry, homework, bills and dinner go undone as you read a book, sew a quilt, or okay, I admit it, scroll Facebook.
• You were OH SO THANKFUL for your newborn babe, especially in that moment when that shirt that was maybe still a little too small after pregnancy popped all its buttons during Sunday School.  
• You have fed your kiddos Little Caesar's pizza straight from the box in your giant blue van as you watched one of them practice softball in the rain.
• You were belting out the lyrics to your favorite Bruno Mars and your daughter informed you that "your sex takes me to paradise"  was not a good song, Mom. 
• You have pulled clothes out of the dirty laundry hamper, sniffed to make sure they didn't smell too bad, and then sent your daughter on her merry way to school.
• You have found out on the last day of the quarter that your child was FAILING three classes and your response to them was: WHAT THE HE$#!!!
• You have stopped on the side of the road  in the rain more times than you can count to help a toddler go pee. Also you have probably ended up with said pee on your shoe (more than once).
• You celebrated the drowning of a beetle in urine on your FRONT PORCH because it was the first time your boy had actually wanted to pee all by himself. 
• You have cried for, prayed for, and wrung your hands in despair over your kids.
• You have looked at yourself and felt inadequate, or like a failure, and wondered what in the world God was thinking giving you this sacred responsibility.
• You have taken a nap in the blanket fort while the kids watched cartoon after cartoon after cartoon.
• You have held your newborn babe, and realized that you were part of a miracle...

On this day, mommas, I hope that you will read this and smile. I pray that you will see what a blessing you are. I pray that you will have joy in your home, and in your children. That you will be grateful for the journey that is motherhood. ~Kim

What Makes a Mother?

It is here, it comes every year, without fail.That dreaded day that mothers all over the world cringe at. Yes, you guessed it: Mother's Day. And why do we dread it you ask? Simply because we allow ourselves to look at every other mother in the world and compare their flowers to our weeds. We see their beautiful new dress, their lovely curls, their sweet, reverent children sitting there in the pew at church. Then we look at our little flock, and we see a wrinkled blouse with spit-up stains, hair that hasn't been out of a ponytail in two months, whiny, fighting children who probably won't last through the opening hymn, let alone through all those talks about all those wonderful mothers. And we allow ourselves to feel inadequate, worse, like the worst mother in the world. We wonder why in the world God would entrust us with His precious children, because, clearly, we are not up to the task He has given us. Please tell me I am not the only one who has felt this way.

Why do we do this? Why do we allow Satan into our heads? Why do we let him beat us up, tell us we aren't good enough, we can't possibly succeed? Why do we feel like if we aren't mothering perfectly every minute of every single day that we are failures? More importantly, how do we stop? How do we become the mothers that God would have us be?

The answer is simple my friends, and it is right in front of you. In fact, it is staring right back at you when you look in the mirror. Please start seeing the beauty and good in the mother that YOU already are, instead of wishing and hoping and trying to be like Sister Jones, or Sister Smith. God knew what He was doing when He placed those precious children in your arms, and He still does. He knew you would make mistakes, that you wouldn't be perfect. He knew you would lose your temper, lose your patience, even sometimes falter in your faith. He knew you might (would) yell, maybe even swear when your patience was worn thin.  He knew you would get frustrated and angry, and sometimes lose your head (maybe even box an ear or two). He also knew you would repent, improve, and try a little harder to be better at this, the hardest, most noble of jobs.

I posed this question on Facebook today: What makes a good mother? I asked my friends to list one or two characteristics that good mommas possess. I was surprised how varied the responses were.  I heard great attributes like patience, a sense of humor, dedication, courage, wisdom, personal sacrifice and faithfulness just to name a few. But one stood out to me from all the rest, LOVE.

My friend Laura said this," We can look and "measure" how "good" we are, but in the end pure love is what makes a good mom. Not how good they cook our how fun of parties they throw, but love...A mother's love is what you feel when you need it most...a mother's love is what makes her a mother."

As I looked over the varied responses I received, I realized that my friends were listing different attributes of that same characteristic, LOVE. They were, in fact, stating the ways that they show or have felt love in their own lives. So what makes a good mother? That thing you already do so well, LOVING your kids, in the unique way that only you can do. Why did God place your children in your home? Because He knew what YOU could do, He knew the influence that you could be. He knew that NOBODY could take your place. That NOBODY could love your children better than you.

Marjorie Pay Hinckley says it better than me, in this my most favorite of all mom quotes:"There is no such thing as the perfect mother..We just do the best we can with the help of the Lord, and who knows, these children who are struggling to be free may someday rise up and call us blessed."

May you have a beautiful, not dreaded, Mother's Day, and may you know that God knows what He is doing, and He did not send you here to fail. May you celebrate the beautiful momma that you already are, and find joy and rejoicing in your children, today, and every day. ~Kim

MORE THAN ENOUGH

For all the mamas out there who carried a baby in their womb - who watched their bellies expand, their hips widen, the number on the scale creep up, the tiger stripes appear, and felt the first flicker of life within; for those mamas who experienced the devastating events of a miscarriage again and again; for those mamas whose arms ache and long to hold a baby, but are not able to conceive; for those mamas who opened their hearts to love a child not of their flesh; for those mamas who are not "technically" mamas but love, teach, nurture, and make the world a little brighter for a child; for those mamas who are in desperate need of sleep and long for a nap; for those mamas who are nursing sweet babies, changing diapers, and drying tears; for those mamas who are battling with a defiant toddler day in and day out; for those mamas who cried as they sent their child off to kindergarten; for those mamas who care for their chronically ill child; for those mamas with broken hearts who have had to bury a child; for those mamas who help with homework and in the classroom; for those mamas who stay-at-home and long for adult interaction; for those mamas who work outside the home and try to balance it all; for those mamas who have teenagers and feel under-appreciated; for those mamas who are empty-nesters; for those mamas who are now grandmas; for those mamas who long for sticky kisses, hand prints on the wall, and a sleeping baby on their chest; for those mamas who lay awake with worry for the future; for those mamas who feel overwhelmed, stressed, and alone; for those mamas whose husbands work late or out-of-town, for those mamas whose husbands serve in the military; for those mamas who are doing it alone - trying to fulfill the role of both father and mother; for those mamas whose favorite time of the day is when all the kids are asleep and the house is finally quiet; for those mamas who sacrifice their interests for the betterment of the family; for those mamas who long to go to the bathroom, shower, or change their clothes without the paparazzi of children in tow; for those mamas who have a wayward child; for those mamas who long to be as "fat" as they thought they were in high school; for those mamas who feel like they are drowning in the sea of life; for those mamas who feel that they don't measure up, that they're not good enough, skinny enough or pretty enough; for those mamas who feel like they don’t deserve to be celebrated on Mother’s Day . . .

TO ALL THE MAMAS OUT THERE - YOU ARE ENOUGH! YOU ARE MORE THAN ENOUGH. YOU ARE A DAUGHTER OF GOD. HE LOVES YOU. HE DESIRES YOUR HAPPINESS. HE CRIES WHEN YOU CRY. OUR HEAVENLY FATHER LONGS TO HEAR FROM YOU, COMFORT YOU, WRAP YOU IN HIS ARMS AND TELL YOU THAT YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL, IMPORTANT. AND DOING A WONDERFUL WORK!

Motherhood sure isn't easy. It's by far the hardest thing I have ever done. No one explains how difficult and trying it's going to be and if they did - I don't think we'd listen. It's hard to find adequate words to describe the wonder of motherhood. The highlights, the exquisite joy, the perks of motherhood come in all shapes and sizes in the various seasons of life - from a baby nuzzling against your neck, her soft breath on your skin, her sweet "baby smell," her breathing finding rhythm with your own; to your toddler singing you "Su-shine" and gently caressing your face as he drifts off to sleep; to being slapped with kisses, wrapped in hugs, and told, I Love You Mom; to watching your son “shake it” in an attempt to make you smile when you are sad and hurting; to hugging your son/daughter for the first time after an extended time away. These “moments” and countless others, triumph the heartache, the stress, and sleepless nights that come with motherhood. The days may be long, but the years are short.

I tip my hat to all the mothers out there - you are better than you think you are and you are doing an amazing job! The likelihood of your children ending up on a psychologist’s couch discussing what you believe to be your “many failings as a mother” is highly unlikely. Give yourself a break. God entrusted these precious children to you because He knew YOU were the best fit for them. Take comfort in knowing that we’re not in this alone, Heavenly Father will guide us, if we but ask. After all, He knows our children better than we do.

So dear mamas, be YOU - beautiful, perfectly imperfect you! I give you permission to enjoy Mother’s Day this year. Stop comparing yourself to the fictitious “perfect mother” of your imagination and celebrate the amazing opportunity you have to love and be loved in return. And remember YOU ARE MORE THAN ENOUGH! Happy Mother's Day!

~Love me~ Kristen

Be Consistent at Being You

            In today's world of social media with Facebook, Instagram, and Pinterest, we are constantly bombarded with images of perfection, from our homes and decor to our bodies and fashion to family life with matching clothes and well-mannered children to traveling the world. It can be difficult to stand firm and not get swept up in the whirlwind of competition and the notion that the grass is greener on the other side. I personally feel that men and women today have never felt worse about themselves – viewing themselves and their lives as inferior compared to the snippets and snapshots of friends, family, and even complete strangers. Bryan Arzani, boldly stated, “Stop trying to be something you’re not. Instead, be consistent at being you.” So, who are you?

“…you are the most valuable treasure on the face of the earth, for you know who created you and there is only one of you. Never in all the nearly 70 billion humans who have walked this planet since the beginning of time has there been anyone exactly like you.

 Never, until the end of time will there be another such as you. With all the combinations at [God’s] command . . . [He] could have created three hundred     thousand billion humans, each different from the other.

 But who did [He] bring forth?You! One of a kind. Rarest of the rare. A priceless treasure, possessed of qualities in mind and   speech and movement and appearance and actions as no other has ever lived, lives, or shall live.”   -Og Mandino 

            We are sons and daughters of God with endless potential and unique gifts and talents. He has an individualized plan for our lives. With that knowledge, why do we strive to be someone we’re not? Why do we hide behind a mask and a smile that all is well in our world, while we silently suffer and long for a hand to hold? Does it really matter if your house looks like a tornado just ripped through it, while your friend’s house looks like it was torn from the pages of the latest Pottery Barn catalog? No! Let us let go of comparison and focus our efforts on becoming a better version of ourselves by being open and honest.

            This blog is our way of putting the “REAL” back in reality. From my experience I’ve concluded that life can be messy and challenging, but it can also be beautiful and filled with joy. I invite you to laugh, sigh, roll your eyes, and cry with me as I share my life experiences – real, raw, honest, and unfiltered.  Along the way, you might recognize a version of yourself, find the strength to hold on a little longer, and discover your own  talents. It’s time to get real!

Love me-Kristen