Provo Tabernacle

Last night I finally took some time to see and document the charred remains of the Provo Tabernacle. When my mom called Friday morning to tell me it was on fire, I thought that someone had died. In some ways that insulated me from the feelings of loss that this damaged structure symbolizes to so many in the community. After the initial flood of relief that everyone in the family was OK I tried to block out the sadness that one of my favorite buildings was destroyed. Sometimes, like many, I try to protect myself from loss. So I figured if I didn't drive by and see it, perhaps it wouldn't feel like it had actually happened. Of course, I couldn't really keep myself away. Last night when I finally decided it was worth the drive to hit up the Fresh Market for some orange juice and thermometer filters, my camera practically begged me to check out its capabilities on a night scene. So off we went, sore throat and all, to say goodbye to an old friend.

I have so many fond memories in this building. I performed there, my mom performed there, we listened to beautiful music and inspired words there. I distracted my brothers from dropping stuff on the people below while they slid around on those long wooden benches during stake conference. As a teenager I developed a serious crush on "Nephi" while sitting on one of those elegant benches and I went back to see him perform as many times as I could while the play was running. My friend Shayla introduced me to Xtempo there, back when we were learning how to flirt with boys and still too young to drive. One time I went to see a silent film with my mom. She was laughing so hard that everyone around her couldn't stop laughing and pretty soon the entire bench starting shaking which just made us laugh harder. Another time she let me stay up until midnight on Christmas Eve to attend the "Messiah Sing In." Yep, a whole lot of good, fun, memories, were created in that gorgeous building.

Now it looks sad to me.

Friday night, before drifting off to sleep, I lay in bed remembering every detail that I possibly could about that building; taking mental pictures of that which is no more. I was surprised at how many details I could recall.

The pattern in the carpet

The cream colored linoleum in the choir seats and the tap, tap of my dress shoes as I made my way to my seat

The large stained glass windows and the way they would filter the morning sun

The stained wood of the window frames which is one of my favorite features of any old building in provo

The coat closets in the back of the building

The rounded staircases

The light fixtures and curve of the ceiling

All of the intricate woodwork and the curve of the banister

The mint green color of the paint

The pipe organ

Even the angle of the floor.

From the outside, I especially loved the color of the brick on a warm sunny morning. Something about it just seemed pleasant and warm. Last night it was hard to reconcile that memory with the darkened, mournful outline of the building. Perhaps it will be re-built. I hope so. I'd like that warm, sunny piece of Provo back again

Desert Musings

This week I've been a little short on optimism. It doesn't really matter why but I have been trying to find ways to change that. So tonight I started flipping through pics I took in Indian Creek two weeks ago. I have a new camera and I'm still trying to learn how to use it. Some of the pictures did not turn out as well as I had hoped but some of them brought me back to a simple hour of happiness/discovery that was all mine that weekend.

It was cold the night before and I only got a few hours of sleep. The night seemed to stretch on and on. Thankfully I had my cell phone charged so that I could check the time and at least mark that time had not stopped, and we were making slow progress towards morning light. When I could finally recognize the orange walls of the tent signaling the dawn I jumped out of my bag in order to hike some warmth back into my body and make use of what real photographers call "the golden hour." I watched the last morning star being swallowed by the sunlight. Then, a river of Cottonwood trees, gold & green, caught my eye in the distance. They were a good 20 minute walk away but I just had to go wander among them. I was pleasantly surprised to discover how massive they were. It is amazing to me that trees like that can grow in any desert setting. I mean really! It is a miracle.

When I finally reached the creek bed I found my way down a flash-flood-demolished bank and marvelled at the familiar shape of their branches. Trying to memorize the color which was not fully illuminating on film because the sunlight had not yet spilled over the adjacent red slab cliffs.

I took a moment to write myself a note: "Cottonwood trees are my favorite element in the desert. They are a sign that there is water & that something big & strong & beautiful can grow here. I thought about a couple of scriptures I rather like:

"The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them; and the desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose." Isaiah 35:1

"and in the barren deserts there shall come forth pools of living water; and the parched ground shall no longer be a thirsty land." D&C 133:29

Those are good reminders that things are not always as drab as they might seem.

Every long, cold, night is overtaken by the sun, Every desert has a secret oasis, and even an average girl with an average life can hope to grow into something strong and beautiful like a tall desert cottonwood. How's that for optimism?

Little Cottonwood October Love

Tonight I had a moment with the earth. A moment where I felt like I could hear what life is all about if I just listened carefully with my heart. I love little surprises like that. I like to think of them as gifts from God. Small glimpses where life feels full of possibilities and the simplest things make my soul rise up and smile. I never know when one of those moments will surprise me and perhaps that is why I love them so much.

Little Cottonwood Canyon was a regal place tonight. The fall colors are simply brilliant right now. I think I nearly drove off the road just trying to take it all in at one point. Did I mention I love this time of year? After roughing my hands up on some granite I had some time to take in the atmosphere of my canyon nook while my friend climbed and I belayed, below, in the dark. To the right was the silhouette of a large stone cliff, gleaming softly in response to the moon. There's something about granite that is simply majestic. Something that makes me feel small and big all at the same time, and really happy. Off to the side was a single, bright star leading the first path across the night sky. The air was cool but surprisingly pleasant with a hint of movement that was somehow satisfying. Off to the left the canyon walls converged to reveal a triangular slice of the shimmering Salt Lake Valley as people turned on their lights and began their evening routines. If only they knew what they were missing as I sat spying on the twinkling lights of their city. If I didn't have to work tomorrow I'd probably still be there. Leaning against my favorite rocks, smiling at the crickets, sharing gratitude with God for the abundant life I live.

To Derrick Lee on his Birth Week:

December 28, 2004  Happy Birthday/Week! I hope you're having a fabulous day and that you're totally indulging yourself in your own thing even if you have things you are supposed to do. It's your birthday. It's your day to think of you. Sorry to report that no package made it to my house today. Who knows. Maybe it will come on January 3rd or something. That would suck. I had yours sent to my house in Provo. You can't get it until I see it first. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! That is all. I'm going to call you in a bit. I am thinking of you quite a bit today for some reason. Be good. Derrick lee Grayson

To Derrick Lee on his Birthweek:

Derrick was the first person to introduce me to a celebratory birthweek. He called me every day of the last week in December just to drag out my birthday and make me feel special. Ironically enough, 6 years ago on October 9^th 2004 I was climbing, eating a “scrumptulescent” dinner, and watching a movie with Derrick Lee Grayson. I also had absolutely no clue that it was his birthday. He told me the next day. I was so mad at him for spending money on me on his special day. Especially when we were both starving students and totally broke. He just looked at me and said “What? It was a good day. I did everything I wanted to.” That was his style. And it was a fun day.

Several weeks later the movie “The Grudge” came out. We went to see it and rather than getting all scared Derrick would laugh at all the scary parts which made me laugh too. I'm sure that everyone around us thought we were totally annoying. I told my little brother he and his girlfriend should see it cause it wasn't that scary. Afterwards he came back and said “That movie scared the crap outta me!” I thought about it a minute and said “Oh, sorry. I guess I did watch it with Derrick.” Everything was a different experience with him.

November 23, 2004  What up kid? I didn't really get up until like 11:30 today. I'm very well rested and ready to go. That is all. I hope you're having a fab day! I'm on the way to get my hair did. I'm kind of excited about that one. I'll talk to you later. Derrick Lee Grayson

Because of Derrick I was able to experience new things, things that I'm pretty sure I never would have chosen if he hadn't come into my life. He helped me to overcome some of my biggest fears. I can even thank him for the ability to have embarrassing conversations without turning red (or as red) in the face.

Recently I started thinking about all of the good people I have in my life because of him and people I am continuing to meet as a byproduct of our friendship and time spent together. There are at least 45 people spanning the globe that I now treasure and love. People that I have laughed and cried with, shared utility bills and cupboard space with. People I have bonded with as we traveled long hours together and talked deeply about life. People that have supported me and recognized the good in me when I haven't been able to see it in myself. Many of the good things in my life today are a direct result of my friendship with Derrick. I have an abundant life because someone was willing to see the good in me and be my friend. In many ways he changed my life and I will never be the same again. I am so very grateful for that.

November 29, 2004  What's up girl, I hope you're having a scrumptulescent day today. I haven't been on a computer in like a week, so I had tons of stuff to go through on my email. I have to do some serious catching up on school work. I hate school. So last night was fun. I just emailed my sister telling her about all of the jokes we made concerning "Fannie Packs" and "Wainkers". I hope she likes it. Yeah, I'm pretty sure I have to do some tutoring tonight until like 8 or so. I totally want to come to Thanksgiving dinner though. If I can come late I will, but if that's unacceptable, I would understand. I'm sure I'll talk to you about it soon. Be good kid. Try not to sell any garments. Derrick Lee Grayson

Derrick looked up to many of you. Once he taught Sunday school and I remember how touching it was when he got a little choked up talking about his mom and how she was his hero.

He loved people and people loved him right back. I think he would be so happy to see all of you

Gathered together

Enjoying each other's company

Basking in the gift of life

Enjoying simple things and good wholesome fun

Just the way it should be

If he could be here to celebrate with all of us for just one day perhaps he would leave the party saying something like this:

December 25, 2004

...I guess I'll go now. I hope you continue to have a great day and a great holiday. I look forward to seeing you again and being with you. Be good. Don't eat any laxatives.
Derrick Lee Grayson

Happy 30^th Birthday Derrick

We miss you!

Catching Up

I have been a bit of a slacker with posting my "September Favorites." Part of the problem was that my computer crashed and oddly enough it may take 30 days to create a habit but it certainly only takes one or two to destroy it. So here I am trying to catch up. I think some of these shots are worth the wait though...

Why I love September Reason #5:

The weather is perfect for biking in the mountains. That would be a picture of us driving down the mountain with our lovely two wheeled companions hitching a ride on the back.

Why I love September Reason#6:

Things that look drab from a distance are actually quite interesting and beautiful up close. I found these lovely "weeds" on the side of the road and I couldn't get enough of their shape and color.

My roommate and I were talking about how sometimes the weeds in Utah are kind of like people. We think we know someone, perhaps we even pass judgement on them as someone who will never amount to much or whatever. Then you get to know them and realize just how extraordinary they are, how brilliant their spirit shines when someone believes in them and loves them for who they are. I love things like that because I have a lot of "drab from a distance" qualities. I always enjoy the moment when that surprising discovery presents itself whether it's someone I come to know better or someone that discovers something likeable about me.

Why I love September Reason #7:

Fall Leaves. As I mentioned in a previous post. I am a fanatic about the fall leaves. I can't get enough of them! Look at that blazing color!

Why I love September Reason #8:

Dahlias. I see this marvelous sight every morning on my jogging route. I never get tired of rounding the corner and coming upon these cheerful, bright, packed in color flowers.

Preserving color & remembering

I have always been a fanatic about the fall leaves. In high school, I drew them constantly. There's something about their intricate shapes, blazing bright color, and delicate symmetry that begs me to inspect them, to keep collecting them, and tuck them away.

9 years ago I was working up in Provo Canyon's Aspen Grove doing a retreat with 6th graders. I was the camp cook and so I was free to roam the canyon between meals. I would wake up at 5:30 in the morning and hike down the trail under a brilliant dusting of stars. Sirius, my favorite, was always bright in the morning Autumn Sky. After flipping what seemed to be billions of pancakes I would head out for a run up to Stewart Falls and hustle back to start cooking lunch. It was the perfect job for me.

I can still remember the day of the attacks on the twin towers. Who doesn't remember where they were and what they were doing? We deliberated for some time whether to go forward with the retreat and after discussing it for a while we decided to proceed with it after all. The mood was solemn. After lunch that afternoon, I found a spot of sunshine under a tree. The air was golden; compliments of this time of year and I remember the quiet. Everything seemed to be so still. There I sat writing a letter to a friend who was serving in the Navy. Afterwards I hiked around and gathered some leaves. Something to remember the day by. And I laminated them so I would preserve and remember the color of that day.

Once Upon a Time...

When I was still in school, I used to dream about the days when I could come home and read whatever I wanted. I just knew I'd relish the moment I could delve into The Arabian Nights without having to think too much about plot and characters and symbols, etc. Imagine reading for pure pleasure! That is what I thought and now it is my reality.

One thing I especially love about this time of year is that I can curl up on my bed and read with the window open. Inviting in all that cool air wrapped up in the quiet murmur of crickets is so calming. Soft light and the night time hum are two of my favorite parts of the evening. It is soothing to the soul. Now that the air has cooled I can sleep with my window open all night long. There is something refreshing about breathing cool, crisp, quiet, fall air. I always sleep a little better when there is a little bite to the temperature outside.

Last night I read for a little while and then when I got tired I turned off all the lights and just sat there listening. Eventually I curled my feet over the edge of the bed and peered out the window, down into the reeds, my eyes curling along the banks of the skinny little stream that cuts across our backyard. I took a deep breath and imagined how I remember September smelling. I remember the air being fresh, with a little bit of earthiness mixed in. I remember the smell of campfires, old leaves, and the first few rainstorms of fall washing the summer dust back into the ground. It was kind of a nice contemplative moment. Although I am still trying to regain my sense of smell I still have my memory and my imagination and I still enjoy the memory.

Why I love September reaon #3: Tonight my window will be open all night long
Why I love September reason #4: Even though I can't smell right now I remember how much I love the smell of fall creeping in on the end of Summer.

Garden Tomatoes

I love how dinner can be nearly effortless around this time of year. Today, after a full day of moving at the office, I came home tired and hungry. The last thing I wanted to do was spend more time on my feet hovering over the stove. Thanks to my roomie and her marvelous garden I didn't have to. I walked ten feet out into our backyard postage-stamp-of-garden and plucked two voluptuous tomatoes off the vine. Can I tell you how much I love tomato sandwiches? I LOVE Tomato Sandwiches! Garden tomatoes are just so tasty. After I took a couple of minutes to fry up some squash I went outside and enjoyed this lovely view while munching on my dinner:


Why I love September reason #2:
I love all the fresh garden foods that are in season.

Celebrating September

September is deliciously golden...

kind of like walking into the backyard garden and munching on fresh grilled summer squash dusted with your favorite herbs...
or noticing the bright yellow sunflowers popping up out of a dark green field...
or remembering a good relationship in those happy moments before the other person discovered your flaws, or came to know them and loved you anyway.

Yes, everything about September I love (if you couldn't tell). There is something different about the air that makes me feel all giddy and happy inside. The sad thing is that it often comes and goes before I can fully enjoy it. So this year I am basking in September one day at a time so I will notice and remember all my favorite things about this time of year before it's gone.

Today is September 1st. Two days ago I spent 20 minutes in the middle of the night stealing wildflowers from the side of the road to cheer up our home. It wasn't on anyone's property mind you but I still felt a little guilty for picking them. Every time I saw headlights coming I dashed into the bushes and giggled out loud to myself. I kind of felt like a teenager that was out breaking curfew or something. Anyway, I checked the next day just to be sure and you couldn't even tell that I had hoarded a bunch of those vibrant yellow flowers for myself. Thank you mother nature for that lovely bouquet of happiness!



Why I love September #1
Because I love seeing these hardy yellow flowers soaking up the last bits of sunshine

Wishes...

This is a partial view of my mother's garden.
It is a magical place. One of the neighbors even thinks that fairies live there. I used to think the same thing. When I was 15 my grandma came to live with us. Her new residence became the walls of my room. My new space became the back porch and when I needed a little alone time I would crawl up into the top of that lusciously, leafy, apple tree at the back of the garden--hidden--sometimes catching a glimpse of the neighbor boy's cousin that I thought was so cute. I used to wish that boy was in love with me. Since that time I think I've made 1000 such wishes. Today I just wished that It wasn't so hot, that I didn't feel tired, & at one point that life didn't feel so dang overwhelming when I think too much about the future.

*Sigh*
Wishes can be a dangerous thing.
Dangerous because they blind me to the magic of moments I'm currently living.

Tonight my little niece KT ran up to me and said with all the exuberance that little child possessed; "Come here! I want to show you something!" We carefully walked to the back of the garden, her head wagging from side to side in concentration. We walked along the side of the fence, careful to step around the prickly weeds. Then through a couple of rows of dill and bush beans when she spotted them--
"Wishing plants!" she squealed. She made a wish. If you look carefully you can see miniature fairies floating on the wind. Blowing on a "wishing plant" at sunset is magical. Making a wish for someone else is sweet. I captured that brilliant moment in the back garden and then KT turned me and asked:

"Janae, when is your birthday?"

Red Shoes

Last week I spent all day walking around in my too tight, pinch my toes, but--very cute--match-everything-black shoes. Complete with a bow on top. I padded around the workplace. Pinch, pinch, pinch, pinch. I went out to dinner with friends. Pinch, pinch, pinch pinch. I ran to ShopKo to do a little shopping. Pinch, PinCH, piNCh, PINCH. At which point it came to my attention that it was becoming nearly unbearable to walk. It was starting to feel like I had been walking around in climbing shoes all day. So I decided to buy a cheap pair of shoes that I could wear around on the rest of my errands for the night. I was thinking something like flip flops, when a heavy dash of color screamed "LOOK AT ME!" I almost threw those gems on my feet and walked them to the cash register right then and there. I looked at the price tag, and nearly squealed--$5. I was sold. And look at that contrast with my turquoise skirt. I am nasiegirl and I love red shoes, fluffy skirts, and walking around like a lady on a summer afternoon.

Taking moments to be Still

I have so many thoughts I've been wanting to explore the last couple of weeks and yet I have been spending my time drinking up these fabulous summer evenings before they escape me. Often I revel in the moment just after jumping into bed when I can hear the water running in the brook outside my window and the crickets in the grass down below while tasting that dark deep green cool air that lurks in the shadow of a late summer night. Those are the moments when I reflect on my life and why it is that everything is just right or sometimes why I feel it is not all it could be. Either way, I think reflection is good and I'm grateful for quiet moments like that where I can just be.

This summer marks the 4th year and 6 month that I have struggled with multiple chemical sensitivities. It has been a frustrating 4 years in many ways. Kind of like a 4.5 year sinus infection that never goes away. Mostly annoying but sometimes really hard too. Sometimes it is hard for me to feel hopeful about my future because I feel like my health holds me back. Over the last couple of weeks I've decided that this blog is all about hope despite the things in my life that are frustrating and so I'd like to focus on that a little more often.

Last week I had a really sweet moment with my little brother. It came on a night when things were feeling a little bit bleak. In a tender, private moment he reminded me that there is a purpose in all things and that even though I feel like this trial is holding me back in many ways it is actually helping me to move forward. I thought about that a lot that night and as I was contemplating drifting off to sleep, trying to decide if I really believed that or not, I penned these words:

Sometimes those things that seem to be setting me back are actually moving me forward like:

-Helping me to "see" others, understand the things they suffer, and to love them more deeply

-To slow down and notice new things about the day

-To be happy and grateful for little joys and small triumphs


And perhaps most importantly for me right now...


To see and accept beauty in imperfection.

I am a work in progress. I think I will be for a long time. And though I don't always appreciate this journey I am on I do feel grateful for the lessons it is writing on my heart. Perhaps that is part of what being still is all about.

Favorite Things...

This is one of my favorite books. The pictures, the story line, everything about it I love. I mean what kind of witch is afraid of witches?

Picture this: An old couch with fuzzy 1970's floral print. My mom in the middle with two kids on each side, the baby on her lap and two children wrestling for the coveted spot on the back of the couch where they could peer down at the pictures while she read to us. This was our nightly ritual. We read story after story this way. And that's where my love of reading, and books and cleverly drawn illustrations was planted.

One of my guilty pleasures is curling up in my bed and reading all night. Sad that I feel guilty for reading, huh? Ok, well I don't always feel that guilty. It just seems like there is always an endless list of "other" things that should take priority, like cleaning my room for instance. This week reading has won out over the mess though.

Recently I've been revisiting some of my favorite out-of-print children's books. I don't know why but we just seem to belong together. As a child I loved the "older" books section in our school library. I would run my fingers over the heavy hardback covers that were built like a 1970's station wagon; made to last. I would pull the books with interesting titles off the shelf and thumb through the worn pages; soft with age. I can still remember the musty smell of old print. Our librarian soon noticed that I had an affinity for old books so she made a few recommendations such as The Velvet Room and Magic Elizabeth. I read them over and over again.

Back in those days our library had a loft where you could lay on the floor and read for a half an hour if you so pleased. That was back before schools thought about things like 'you can't have a loft because children might fall off a ladder', or a merry-go-round for the same reason. Not that I'm against keeping children safe, there was just more of a carefree nature to my childhood. And--the inner child in me wishes I still had a loft to curl up in and read a book.

A few years ago my mom surprised me at Christmas with an old familiar green hardback book. It was the very same book I'd read over and over as a girl, The Velvet Room. It turns out that my elementary school was selling off all of their old books to make way for newer up and coming titles. I was estatic to have that book in my hands for keeps!

The novel is about a girl growing up in Depression Era America who discovers a secret passageway leading to a library in an old abandoned house. A library she endearingly nicknames "The Velvet Room." Someday, when I am neither rich nor famous perhaps I'll own a cute little cottage with a room like that...or at least a loft. Until then my extra comfy twin bed will have to do.

Here are a few of my favorite out-of-print titles:

Andrew Henry's Meadow
The Witch that was Afraid of Witches
Mumps!
The Velvet Room
A Tree for Peter
Pickles and Jake
Homer Price and the Doughnut Machine

Springtime in Utah

Last weekend my roommate and I rode our bikes down to the local greenhouse so we could dream about our yard in the upcoming summer months. On the way home we started talking about the lovely spring green that was abundantly sprouting up along the side of the road. That vibrant green color which is so fleeting in Utah. I appreciate it more after a long, cold winter.

I noted the traces of winter still mixed in with the new growing things. Old dry leaves, some of them turned to lace; brown bushes and such. And it made me think about re-growth in my own life. I've been through a few rough patches, just like anybody else. Moments when hope and growth and new things seemed but a luxury I could no longer afford. But thankfully, always, new things appear in sometimes unexpected places. New people to meet, new laughter to create, new places to see and smell and enjoy. Those things that feel like splashes of fresh spring green after a long winter of absence. It takes time to allow things to re-grow and blossom and fill in the winter gaps but life can still be beautiful in the meantime. That realization, though simple, makes me feel like I can be more patient with myself and more patient with life in general.

Anyone that has spent some time in Utah knows that springtime is a bit of a tease. One day you feel like you're well on your way to summer and the next you're throwing on a coat and drinking hot chocolate again. So I can be a little more patient with the traces of "winter" that surface in my own life from time to time. It reminded me of an article written by Jerry Johnston that so adequately captured those feelings of desolation we all face at one time or another and why we can always look forward with hope. You can read his article here

In the meantime I'm going to hop on my bike and fill my soul with another deep draught of fresh spring green.

To Mom And All of The "Village Moms" Out There

Last week I started running again. Outside. I love being outside in the morning. I get that from my mom. Perhaps that is because her cheerful whistling served as my alarm clock for 3/4 of my life. She is a definite morning person and I love that about her.

It just so happens that a giant lilac bush is also growing along my route. Of all the smells I miss right now,  Lilacs are one I miss most.

One time we went on a walk together, just me and my mom, down our usual route. It was about this time of year and as we neared the halfway point there was a lilac bush loaded with blossoms and spilling over the fence. We both stopped to take a look when all of a sudden she plunged her head right into the thick of that thing, trying to soak in the fragrance. I laughed and followed suit and there we were looking foolish on the side of the road with our heads swallowed up in that massive bush. The scent was wonderful. The moment, though simple, is something I'll never forget.

I told one of my co-workers about this walk one time. She loved it because she was a mom too and understood that sometimes you just need to go for a walk and plunge your head in a lilac bush.

One Spring day she came bobbing into work with the most beautiful bouquet of lilacs I think I have ever seen. It was shortly after I had moved out of my parents house and my little brother, and best friend, had just left on his mission. She simply said to me: "I had a dream that you were crying last night so I decided I better do something." It was such a sweet gesture and it meant so much to me. She is one of my adopted moms, one of those ladies that has also had a mothering effect on my life.

You've all heard the old adage "It takes a village to raise a child." Well I'd like to thank all the "village moms" in my life. Women who continually fed, encouraged, and occasionally reprimanded me. Those who invited me onto their porches to talk, endured long nights of giggling during sleepovers, hiked mountains, went to girls camp, rode bikes, chaperoned trips, and organized fundraisers. Women that have honked and waved, played taxi, and said hello at church. Women that taught me to ice skate, swim, and sew. Women that welcomed me into their families while I was dating their sons and have continued to hug and love me when I wasn't. Women that sacrificed their time so I could see my potential more clearly. Mostly, just women that know how to love. I cherish those moments and am grateful for the ways they have enriched my life.

For a few years I worked as a buyer in the textile industry and I kind of miss the familiar thick accent of one of our suppliers who always called me about this time of year.

"Hello gorgeous lady! How are you?"
"I'm great, thanks!"
"I'm calling to wish you a happy Mother's Day."
"Oh, thank you!"
"Yes, gorgeous lady. Do you have any children?"
"No, not yet."
"Well maybe next year...I will hope for you next year."
(We both laugh)
"Thank you."
"Of course, gorgeous lady. I hope you have a marvelous, happy, wonderful weekend!"

The next year came, and the next, and the next and though I still don't have children of my own I am learning how to be a village mom.

Recently my brother and sister-in-law went out of town. My mom had charge over their kids for most of the week but I tried to drop by at night to help out and give her a break. Their youngest daughter who I endearingly call "Migsy" was happy to see me but did NOT want to go to bed.

I tried all the old tricks my mom used to use. I read, and read, and read, and read but she did not even blink an eyelid! I sang primary songs, played soft music when my voice got tired, tried the rocking chair, and gave her abundant snacks only to hear once again: "I miss mommy, I miss daddy, I'm hungry!!!" I knew that child was tired but she was pretty good at faking it.

Finally, my mom told me it was okay to leave. Somehow she'd figure out a way like she always does to get that little one to sleep. As soon as Miggs saw me grab my purse she began wailing like it was the end of the world. I couldn't bear it. So I sat down on the bed and held her in my arms and we talked until she let me lay her down and snuggle next to her. Slowly, slowly she stopped saying "I miss mommy" and her heavy breathing signaled she was asleep.

Later that night my mom said little Migsy woke up once and said; "I miss mommy, I miss daddy, I miss Nae." I guess I earned my right as a village mom. And it feels pretty good.

Mid-day Slumps

I've been feeling the mid-day slumps. Apparently it can strike anyone at any age. I'm thinking I should have a sleep shelf installed next to my desk to be used at my discretion. Of course I would camoflauge it with paper supplies and things. Perhaps my boss won't notice if I take a little fiver on the shelf every now and again.

Capture it, Remember it

Last weekend I went on one of those trips that you just wish you could bottle up and open on a bad day now and again. It was pure happiness, totally spontaneous, and a completely refreshing get away from the daily grind. I spent the weekend soaking up some sunshine, with good company, while climbing rocks. How can life get better than that?

Rock climbing has been a favorite past time of mine for the last 8 years. I can still remember the first time I went climbing as a teenager in the City of Rocks in Idaho. I nervously watched every move of the climbers before me. Trying to memorize their foot placement and beta so that I wouldn't look so awkward on the rock when it was my turn. When I finally got tied into the rope I think I prayed every few seconds "Please don't let me die, Please don't let me die..."

I never would have guessed that that experience would eventually lead me to be standing on top of a 100 foot rock tower in the middle of the desert. But there I was Saturday night. Basking in a certain satisfaction that is hard to describe except that it felt like I did something hard and because of that today means something.

Since that first trip to Idaho I have been able to look out over many a sunset while dangling from the edge of a tall cliff. I'll be honest though, even with experience and time I still sometimes battle the same fears. Thoughts like "Did I tie in correctly? Is my gear still safe? Is my belayer paying attention?" still roll through my head at the most inopportune moments. Last Saturday it just so seized me when I was merely 15 feet off the ground.

It started raining and the wind started blowing like crazy. I couldn't see or hear my belayer. I was stuck in a spot that I couldn't figure out how to get out of and to make matters worse when I shot a quick glance back over my shoulder I discovered I was the current roadside attraction for the tourists driving through Arches National Park. Lovely, everyone watching me through binoculars when I'm struggling through a rough spot. Don't we all LOVE having our weak moments magnified? I wanted to give up, and for a few minutes I think I did. Good thing the wind kept me from communicating with my belayer.

Finally the rain let up and I got a hold of my mental game. Anytime I am in a spot that starts to feel impossible I try to tell myself, "OK, if you can just get your feet up another 2" you might find something else to hang onto." It took me half a bucket of tries but I finally made it past that spot. I remember thinking, "FINALLY!!! The rest should be easy..." only to repeat the same awkward grappling with the rock 3 more times. It was frustrating to say the least, especially when I used to be able to climb at a much higher level. But I was so glad I didn't let my pride keep me from making my way to the top.

What a spectacular view it was! After gawking at our surroundings and admiring the sunset we rappelled down into the twilight and smiled back at this Desert Tower called Owl Rock. Later that night as I drifted off to sleep under a canopy of desert stars I was fully aware of the hard desert ground my hips were digging into but I was completely satisfied, and happiness was wearing in every wrinkle on my dirty face. I can't think of a better way to end the day.