Thankful Thursday: July 10th, 2014

Six years ago I was sitting in our duplex apartment, rocking at all hours of the day, and trying to carefully find my footing and balance as a new mother. Mr. H started graduate school, I left my job (and an office full of amazing friends), and there I was--fulfilling my dream of becoming a Mom...and more specifically, stay-at-home mother.

As the summer turned into fall, I found myself grasping for signs of my accomplishments, seeking out affirmations, and praying for insights on how to juggle my new life and invite calm even on the more challenging days.

I had been blogging our family blog (the old family blog, followed later by the new family blog) for a few years, but decided to start a brand new blog just for me--for whatever it might become. I imagined it to be a space for my own creative needs--sharing parts of my experience and encouraging myself to write. Writing for me always seems to bring a sweetness to the sours of life.

 I wrote my very first post on this blog  on the first of October (my baby boy was now 4 months old)--it was a story from my mission experience in Portugal. It felt great to write. It felt liberating to think beyond the confines of my sometimes very tedious feeling days. To have a space--just for me.

Not long after that, I posted a Thanksgiving post full of the classic "I am grateful for" items and joys. That felt amazing. I started posting Thankful lists on Thursdays--I decided to call them "Thankful Thursday" posts and made it a weekly ritual. I didn't realize it when I started, but over time I noticed something--my Thursdays were so much more fulfilling than other days of the week! 

My perspective of who I was and what my days looked like was changing. I found myself noticing the littlest things and keeping them in my mind to remember for Thankful Thursday. I was less stressed about the challenges I was facing, and I found myself feeling closer to God. 

Thankful Thursday posts gave me a time every week to sit and think about ONE THING ONLY--the {little and big} things in my world for which I was grateful.

The time I spent on the lists was changing my focus, and it felt fantastic!

I have tried to be consistent with my posts--going back and even catching up when weeks behind or posting several weeks for a month or more to stay on track. 

As of today--July 10th, I haven't posted a Thankful Thursday post since April 10th--that's 3 full months! I don't think I've ever been this far behind...and the thought of going back through my weeks to give accurate updates makes me laugh (or cry?). I have shared thankful thoughts on Facebook fairly regularly, though--that counts for something?

What I do want to say is--I am thankful for the power and peace that regular expressions of gratitude brings to individuals & families. I have experienced first hand that it can bring a level of clarity and calm that otherwise is difficult to maintain, without some kind of consistent one-on-one time with your thankful thoughts.

And I have missed this--I am ready to jump back in the game.

_______________________________________

Today is Thankful Thursday, I want to share an inspiring quote from this talk about gratitude:

Right?

So, friends...what are you thankful for today?

*Also, guess what? 

I'm blogging on the family blog again too! 

Not caught up by any stretch of the imagination...

but, I've posted this month!

A Day In My {Missionary} Life: November 20th 2002

From my Missionary Journal on November 20, 2002

"Today=windy blustery raindrops
This morning=studies trying to keep warm and a new scarf!
This afternoon= lunch, palestra-ogle-ing...projecto homen [a non-Church affiliated program where we taught a few English classes] (Christmas review; vocab; Rudolph song; Hokey Pokey)...home for hot chocolate (her) & cevada (me)...out again to teach...umbrellas = wind= swoosh! Laughter and shivers...a 1° on the floor of a bedroom [first discussion taught]...correlation w/our fiel Bento [our ward mission leader]...a walk home with contentment...tomorrow is P-day!"

___________________________________________________
This is exactly how it reads in my journal [the grey text is added for clarification]--I wrote it with green ink. At the end of a long day, I tried to as often as possible--at least write down a few details of our missionary day. I knew that I would not remember the moments and schedules forever, but I could encapsulate some of it, by writing in a journal. I feel strongly about journal writing.*

This Portuguese rural street view was magical in real life and I can still feel it. 

I took 24 rolls of film with me to Portugal. It felt like a lot when I left and I used them sparingly to make them last. We weren't supposed to snap photos everywhere we went (we weren't tourists!) so I only have a small sampling to look at now. My missionary albums seem incredibly sparse, especially with the hundreds-per-month that I take now and store on my computer.

It is too bad I can't have a photo of every place and face...but even still. With a single shot (like the one above), I can close my eyes for a moment and imagine myself there. I can remember the brisk wind on my face and how it felt to skip around puddles of mud. I can remember the feel of cobblestone beneath my shoes and the sunlight arching angelically between the trees...just like that one day shown above.

I can remember large doors, the ominous cathedrals, and  the azulejos (Portuguese blue painted tile)...

Azulejos on a small cathedral...I'm in a matching blue hue

I can remember that day--November 20th, eleven years ago (I can remember, because my journal can refresh my memory). I remember that day was my first experience with my umbrella flying inside out--swoosh! I thought that only happened in cartoons! I laughed so hard. With time, I became quite skilled at tilting my umbrella (though I went through several) toward the wind to avoid such a thing.

On a bridge, in the rain. Coat, gloves, scarf, and a blown out umbrella. Still smiling.

I heard someone say this past Sunday that they take a day off of work every year on a certain date to commemorate the last?first? day of their missionary service years ago. He said he would take his missionary journals and go somewhere quiet all day long to read and to remember. 

I loved that. I think there are many experiences that we have in our journey that are for our enrichment and growth. If we take time to remember them, they can enhance our lives even many years down the road.


*I have posted about journal writing before. Two offerings:  HERE -J is for Journal and HERE-Thankful Thurs 10.08.09.  It is important! Write/type/blog!







Every day in November!  NaBloPoMo: National Blog Posting Month. Write a post on your blog every day in November. For the 3rd year, I've decided to tackle this challenge & enjoy the opportunity to switch to writing mode. Want to join me? Leave your blog link in the comments so I can follow you too!

Over The Rainbow

“The purest

and most thoughtful

minds are those

which love color the most.”

 ~John Ruskin

. . .

When I was in elementary school, 

my favorite color was

purple.

For my one-the-go needs, I was outfitted in purple. I had not one, buttwo purple lunch boxes (one soft, one hard), a purple back pack, and an adorable purple suitcase. The suitcase (I still have it) was a gift from my Grandmama and has always been extra special. Not only is it purple (my little girl most favorite of all), but it has my name monogrammed on the bottom right corner. In cursive. It felt very fancy to me as a young girl and I smile every time I get it out now (I have used it for packing Miss N's clothes on trips). 

I remember wishing there was a purple option for the radio/tape player that I bought with my homemade candy sales earnings. Alas, it was powder pink. And I did not like pink. My basketball t-shirt was pink...hot pink. Our team name? "Can't touch this." Oh yes. I'm a child of the 90's.  I remember now that was afraid to wash it; I didn't want the hotness of the pink to fade. So I didn't. All of those sweaty games...no washing. I just sprayed it with perfume. I wonder if anyone noticed?

My brothers were on a soccer team called "purple people eaters" which  I thought was a fabulous name. Kind of sounded like monsters. They got to wear purple shirts for their games. Lucky.(Were you both on the team or just one of you?)

By the time I was in high school, 

I had moved on from purple  to green. 

I loved green. I remember thinking it was such an appropriate favorite for me since my eyes are also green. In my closet you could find green shirts, green shoes, green jeans (guess what? those colorful jeans are back in style, folks!), a dark green silky shirt (those are too!), some plaid green converse-looking shoes, and a favorite necklace with green leaves on it.

I was still very anti-pink and had almost nothing in my closet with much more than a fleck of the feminine hue. I prided myself on staying away from overly girly/'prissy' attitudes/styles. (Go ahead and laugh) The earthy tones were the perfect backdrop. Green symbolized growth and learning...and I was doing a lot of that in those years.

In college, I combined green and purple...

to jump on the black is best bandwagon.

As a sophomore, I started to collect more sophisticated shades to my wardrobe. I really loved blacks and whites. I expanded my collection of black tops, chunky black shoes (early 2000's, anyone?) and watched my roommates put on eyeliner to hone my black-outlining skills. I still loved green but the darker shades held more of my interest.

By my early twenties, 

I was starting to notice the color 

I had been avoiding all of these years...pink.

As a missionary, I had to dress conservatively (you Sister missionaries now get to wear the cutest things!) but packed a few colorful tops just to mix things up a bit (since I would be wearing the same things over and over and over and over and over and over and over again for 18 months). This included one single pastel pink button up short sleeved top.

A switch was turned on. Pink was the new black. Or green. Or purple. When I came home, I started to notice pink everywhere. I remember wearing a pair of pink capris when Mr. H and I spent an afternoon in Nashville (post-mission, pre-engagement). I loved it. I still love it now and my favorite winter wear is a pink pea coat.

In my mid-twenties, I found myself balancing out--unable to choose "one tip top favorite"; I now had many colorful favorites. 

In those working/school years (post-marriage, pre-baby), I painted a room in lavender (shout out to my early purple years), discovered the flexibility in greys-whites-blacks, fell in love with green all over again, accentuated with pink, and had flip flops in almost every other color in the rainbow.


Last year, I discovered a color that I had mostly ignored and never considered a qualifier for a "favorite list"...and now you can see me wearing a pop of this color almost every day.

Yellow.

When sisters-in-law and I were looking for a fun color combination for family photos, we saw a picture of a family using  yellow as the coordinating color. Soon I found that as I was searching for the little yellow elements to add to our family's outfits, I started seeing yellow everywhere...and liked it! I now have several yellow elements to add to my day (yellow watch, flats, earrings...) and people often ask me if it's my favorite.

. . .

I've been through a rainbow of favorites over the years. I don't have "one favorite" these days--more like a kaleidoscope of favorites. Do you have a favorite color?

Every day in November!  NaBloPoMo: National Blog Posting Month. Write a post on your blog every day in November. For the 3rd year, I've decided to tackle this challenge & enjoy the opportunity to switch to writing mode. Want to join me? Leave your blog link in the comments so I can follow you too! 

Instagram Great Gram {Family Proclamation Celebration Kickoff!}

Today is "Instagram Great Gram Day"

to kickoff the Family Proclamation Celebration Week

Meet Elizabeth:

(& Samuel)

 I spent some time today "getting to know" Elizabeth through the life story that we have recorded in an amazing book filled with records, dates, stories, and photos. I am grateful for the many hours spent in making this book and that my family & I have it as a resource and record to enjoy and connect with our Jackson roots. 

I am honored to share with you some of what I learned about my great-great-great grandmother, Elizabeth.


"Elizabeth Bott Brough was born March 9, 1838, at Seighfod, Longton, Staffordshire, England the eldest of nine children of Benjamin Bott and Elizabeth Abbott Bott. 

She belonged to the Church of England. When [she] began going with Samuel Brough her parents were bitterly opposed because he belonged to the Mormon Church and in every way tried to oppose it. She went with [him] every chance that she could and was converted and he baptized her. As soon as her parents found out, they turned her from her home. Soon after, she married [Samuel]."

Having family disown you for your religious convictions would be a terribly lonely and heavy burden to bear. Elizabeth was strong in her faith and, hand in hand with Samuel, kept her eyes focused on their commitments to each other and to the Lord. I need to find ways to focus in and march through those lonely experiences.

Four children were born to them while they lived in England in an additional room that Samuel built onto his father's home. I imagined what that would be like to be newlyweds and with a young family--living in an extra ROOM built onto my in-law's house. Wild.

"They left Liverpool on May 30th, 1863, on the ship Cynosure and came with a company of 754 Saints under the direction of David M. Stuart. They arrived in New York harbor on July 19th, 1863."

Two months on a ship. With four small children (by then the oldest was 5 & the youngest was 3 months). I feel a little silly to have stressed out about about our three week trip which was pretty luxurious compared to their ocean crossing travel (and really not at all comparable). Elizabeth was a courageous young mother. I want to be courageous too.

"While on board their little boy Sammy had measles and was very sick. Several times they were afraid he would die and have to be buried at sea. From here they traveled part of the way to Florence, Neb., in cattle cars and crossed the river to Florence on the ferry. Shortly after arriving in Florence, Neb., Sammy died with the aftereffects of measles on August 7th.

They buried him there in the Mormon cemetery in a dry goods box and in a little colored nightgown. [Elizabeth] took the crepe off her bonnet that she had for her father's funeral the year before, and stuffed the cracks in the box."

They stayed for another week before starting to cross the plains to go westward. I imagine that Florence, Nebraska must have become hallowed ground in Elizabeth's heart--to bury her baby boy and then have to leave so soon after. I cannot fathom the heartache she carried (in addition to many other physical items) across the plains with her. 

Up to this point in Elizabeth's life she was rejected by her family, she lived in a small space with her in-laws, she travelled across the ocean (without many accommodations) with four children (all 5 & under), travelled by cattle car with her sick baby boy, and buried him in a little box before leaving--knowing she would likely never return to his gravesite again. Now I feel like a big wimp. My heart is aching for Elizabeth's broken mother-heart. 

"They were held up until the Tabernacle organ pipes came, so the company could bring them. Not much is known of their crossing. A bedridden woman rode in their wagon and [Elizabeth] walked and carried a baby part of the way. [Samuel] walked all of the way. Snow had already fallen before they reached Salt Lake City on October 15, 1863."

What an experience to have crossed the plains--walking, carrying babies, sharing wagon space with someone who couldn't walk, and having the unique opportunity to be in the company that carried the organ pipes for the tabernacle. THE tabernacle! The one we can still listen to today and hear the incredible sounds of sweet music notes. I love that physical reminder and connection with Elizabeth. I wonder if she imagined their significance?

"They lived in a dugout in the side of a hill. Just a hole dug in the hill and lined with adobes and with a fireplace on one side. The next spring when the snow began to melt...the water washed down the chimney and part of the wall."

Sweet, patient, amazing Elizabeth. She lived in a hole dug out of a hill. No doubt there was no other choice and having her own space (instead of boarding with another family) was likely top on her list. What would that be like? I look at my warm, clean house and wish I could have her over for lunch and let her stay here for awhile to rest. I want to be patient like Elizabeth.

"...Emma was born March 25th. This same year Liza died. They watched her all night before she died, with just the light from the fireplace. They moved into a two room log house just before William Thomas was born."

Elizabeth was blessed with another baby girl (5th baby!), and that same year, baby girl Liza slipped away to her heavenly home. I looked on the records, she was 2 years old. My baby girl is almost two years old. I can't profess to know what Elizabeth felt but I know it must have been overwhelming. Elizabeth was strong through trial and she relied on the Savior to walk through the valleys. I want to rely on the Savior more consistently.

Elizabeth & Samuel moved again, another baby was born. They moved again  another baby was born and finally moved to Randolph, UT in 1870. I talk about us moving "four times in the last 4 years" as being a huge deal. Elizabeth was a master mover. Granted, she probably didn't have near the amount of boxes that I do (it's ridiculous), but moving is hard whatever size of moving van (wagon!) you have.  In addition to all the moves, her husband would work out of town during the winters--so she would run the farm, house, & children while he was away. This woman knew how to get things done--even with her husband out of town for work. I want to have work ethic like Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth worked in the Relief Society and she ...[was] among the first members here. She was good to those in need and those without mothers." 

In addition to her eleven children, she raised two more who needed a home and a mother. Elizabeth knew how to serve and use her talents as a woman of God to bless others' lives. She understand her place in the Plan of Salvation and she had confidence in her strengths. She knew she was a daughter of God. I want to serve with a Christlike love.

"[Elizabeth was a] refined and dignified old lady, clean, and always neatly dressed. Her home was always spic and span." 
And I found this detail on familysearch.org: "She always had pretty bonnets that tied under her chin. The way she tied her aprons was to tie the bow in front so she could get the bows even and then slip the bow around to the back."

Clearly, Elizabeth knew how to keep her home (even through the many, small, and dirt-made ones!), self, and family well put together! Even with her meager circumstances, it was a priority for her to keep things neat, clean, and with a lovely presentation (really? bows even?). I admire her humility to live in so many unsettling places but to bloom where she is planted...and bloom beautifully. Now I am really wanting to meet Elizabeth--teach me how to keep a house clean even with little children...and oh those apron tying skills!


"She never regretted the sacrifices she made to come to Zion and leaving her own people. She was 83 years old when she died."

I can sense in the photo of Elizabeth & Samuel that she carried herself with dignity and grace. What a gift of service and love--Elizabeth gave to her many children, grandchildren, neighbors, and friends. I love that the impression she left with her posterity was that of not having regrets for the sacrifices she made. What an inspiring woman who followed her sweetheart's testimony to find her own--raise a family in faith and journey through the challenges of life. I am inspired by Elizabeth's strength in faith, motherhood, and patience. I come from a long line of women who knew who they were and acted on it. My job is to honor their names by doing my part. I can do hard things!




So that's it! Probably a bit more than the "Instagram Great Gram" initial idea was about, but I'm so grateful for that nudging to help me learn and ponder Elizabeth's life story. I hope you've felt inspired by her story as well. Want to find photos of the women and men who came before you?

Go here!! to find photos of YOUR ancestors!

Quotes about Elizabeth's life taken from the Jackson Family History Book

pgs 443, 444

"I Just Saw A Fly"--An excerpt from my afternoon experience {Also-my conflicted heart}

{From my afternoon journal-as-I-experience}

August 28, 2013 Wednesday

4:18pm Jackson & Nathan are doing a dexterity craft--placing oatmeal flakes along a line with glue (to make a star)--Jackson is showing Nathan how to place them, what to do with extra glue on your finger (spread on paper), and how to spread the glue carefully. They are pouring their oats slowly on a plate and using them from there. Jackson says “don’t hold the glue...when I need some more, put it back”.

As they are crafting, I take a few photos. Jackson says “I’m doing a great job!” and I affirm it. Nathan says “me too!” I say yes you too! Jackson exclaims that raw oatmeal is delicious too! Nathan tries some and continues to nibble while Jackson makes good progress. Jackson asks me to come look, I do and compliment him. Nathan said “I not doing a good job. I eating it.” I tell him his star looks great and to keep going. Jackson follows up with an affirming “you’re doing an awesome job, Nathan.”

They keep working and Jackson says--“I dreamed I was in a huge car wreck. And the light went in a big circle up to the sky. So we drove our car into a truck. We didn’t get a wreck. Does wrecks hurt when they get on your car? When they come inside? A lightning wreck? We were like “there’s a wreck!” (whisper voice) and I walked around the corner and said “Hi there” to the man talking to someone else.”

My heart is pounding. My eyes are wide, trying to soak in the view of their little hands and focused faces. My ears take in every grunt of concentrated effort and sigh of trying-again. I am blessed to experience this natural learning/discovering/sharing environment AT HOME TOGETHER. Jackson is diligent in following the star lines perfectly, but has learned also how to praise his little brother (even if it isn’t perfect). He schools him “no more glue until your line is done...ok...that’s enough...keep going”. His tutelage is well received. “Now look a-mine star, Mom!” “We need moe!”

J interjects: “I just saw a fly. I didn’t want him to land on the glue and get stuck forever. I don’t want to have a sad bug. Do you want to have a sad bug in the world?”

THIS.

THIS is why I am aching to send my five year old to school all day (8:30am-4pm) I will miss THIS.

TRULY, I am so glad to have an accessible Montessori option (read: charter public/further read: free). It’s tiny doors, little “works” and child-centered environments make my heart sing. The trained ‘guides’ with their soft voices and involved, encouraging interaction will have far-reaching effects in the children’s learning, responses, and expansion of learning. I have been convinced of the benefits of this kind of education. Child-guided. Positive reinforced. Tactile-activity centered. One-on-one moments.

BUT.

They can never love them like I do.

And I can DO this thing (I think?). Our home is the original Montessori, right? In a way. In many ways. I don't have all the working mats or mini-glass cups or peg boards. I do have a drive to teach, enrich, inspire, and follow my children's lead through discoveries and academic/social/spiritual/all-things learning.

This is my struggle. I have been working through it for the last 6 months or so since we found out his acceptance to the Montessori school (and also registered him at a regular public as well--just to keep my options open). I read and researched. I questioned and pondered. I formed opinions of my own.

My heart is conflicted. THIS is our environment. THESE are our works. THOSE are my babies and our ecosystem of familial fun and learning is the most joyous experience in my life thus far. Must I give it up now?

Update on the oat project--”Mom! My star is done! I will carry it carefully to dry. Let’s do another one!” Yes, yes--let’s!

30 minutes later--still munching on the craft in between making his straight lines: "Does paleontologists bring food when they are doing a really hard work job?"

P.S. Today was day 1 of the 3 "phase in" 2-hour days at Montessori school. Official first start day is September 3rd (6 days from now). This is J as we left today (clementine in hand). Notice the small door--all the Montessori stuff is geared toward their small size...adorable! He told me all about the "working mats" (he learned the special way to fold them and that you do not put your feet or body on them, only 'works'), the pet fish, pet bird, pet tarantula, & pet dragon (lizard). 

Reflecting On My Day

At the end of a busy day

it's still Monday?, I ask myself as I notice I already devoured the Toblerone deliciousness that I bought to last me all week

I love to sit down and think about the things accomplished, goals met, to-do's I was able to cross off, lessons learned, make a new mental list of to-do's, chastise myself for what I did NOT do, resolve to do better, and record a few lines of it all in my journal if I'm not too tired.

Mama bear & cubs                                     {June 2013}

Today started about 8:30 with the boys running in together requesting their oatmeal breakfast. I encouraged them to take advantage of the last two bananas while I took a few minutes to push the grog out of my brain and then we were up and running (anyone who knows me, knows I am not a morning person and do not do well with jumping out of bed as soon as I wake up).

We did breakfast, bricks, coloring, clothes, soap, teeth, towels, pbs kids, scanning the bunny ears for a non-pixelated version for pbs kids, laundry in, laundry out, clean clothes picked out of the clean laundry piles (you would not believe the mountain of clean laundry on our guest bed right this very moment), sent some emails, made a call or two, cleaned up from breakfast, printed a shopping list/weekly schedule, sent a text, put someone in time out, hopped in the shower (behind schedule, as usual), found word world on hulu, cut up some apples, discussed changing the world with a friend, got the princess up & fed & dressed, everyone out the door (finally!) to run some errands (my friend too!), first stop, second stop, back home, unloading, ice cream sandwiches melting, discussing dinosaurs, kids play outside, honkity honk honk their horns, Miss N down for nap, neighbor comes over & asks my kids names (more than 5x during her visit), my friend hugs & leaves, get the mail, instagram a photo of J with his first birthday card for his big 5, back inside to whip up a dinner (plus a box to share), kid play in mud, I play in creamy enchiladas, kids in the tub after muddy play, I label all the dishes & wake up the sleeping babe, shoes back on, out the door, delivery & chat with a new friend, stop at a lake for photos to turn in for a class, realize I left my memory card in my Mac, really!? decide to just stay & let kids play at the park, listen to amusing conversations between Mr. J and the rest, watch Miss N's glee as she climbs all by herself, take note of Mr. N's resilience and defensive stance, meet a fellow park family, share cookies & milestones, load 'em up again, home, unload, back in the tub, drinks, teeth, stories, scriptures, prayers, cuddles, pillows, hugs, lights out, laundry movin', dishes washin', de-humidifier hummin'...the motion slows and it's just me and my thoughts.

I tried to form a picture of what I was feeling (to share on the ultimate feeling-sharing place in all of the world--facebook, of course --*rolls eyes at self*) and this is what I ended up with :

"From the first awakening squeaks to the last nighttime pleas for 'just one more minute'--a mother's roller-coaster style work is full of happy, heartwarming ups and mundane, messy downs. (And those words don't even begin to truly capture it) Every day we get on, buckle up, and ride again--convinced that the brilliant views we enjoy at the tops of the ups far outweigh the shaking, loud, rumbling chaos of the lows. 



When my house is still and quiet (laundry rumbling, dishwasher swirling, house put back together again), I step off the roller coaster and I review my day's journey from a much calmer vantage point. The fantastic ups feel brighter and the frantic downs seem less dramatic; in those memory catching moments, my heart swells with gratitude for the chance to ride along."

Mama moments. Shoes on.                         {June 2013}