Here goes....
This is Lucy's mission shot.  This is the one the mission committee saw when they decided where she is going.  This is what her mission president will see.  This is the one that will be up on the big board of transfers that the APs ogle--and they will.
I don't know yet.  It's killing me.  It's killing her.  She will be incredible.

Ugh!

What has happened to our language that a word can just lose a letter?   One of my biggest frustrations lately is people mispronouncing the word frustration. IT'S NOT FUSTRATION!!!   People come on, read a book once in a while; take a class;  do something to keep that brain sharp.  The word doesn't come from the same root as fuss.  One of the definitions is "preventing progress."  Hello.  Do you get the irony?

Yeah, I'm Still Alive

I haven't written anything on this blog for a really long time.  Last summer, after four years, when Ian's death anniversary came and then his birthday came and then Taylor came home from his mission and then Halloween...It was too much.  Instead of making me feel better, it was making me feel worse to write, both on this blog and in my journal--which had become letters to Ian.  I chose to pull back from the hurt.  Things aren't all that much better now, just covered with more layers and not as close to the surface.

I was looking for a scripture the other night and couldn't find it in the topical guide or index and I thought I had written about it so I was searching through these posts.  Reading some of them made me sad, but there were some that made me remember how much pondering went into them and how cathartic it was.  I had completely, COMPLETELY forgotten that I named the book that I would someday write.  That was a good goal--even if my children will be the only ones who ever read it.

I'd forgotten that I had an outlet for all my weird thoughts and insights that always draw blank stares and chuckles in Sunday School.  I miss it.  I want to start again.  I hate that there are such big gaps.  I can't fix that.  I want to start again.

Smile

Not the best ever photo but it's the selfie Lucy took to sign up for the ACT so it's appropriate for this post.  She got a 34!  Is that great or what?  I thought the 2120 on the SAT was good, but she tells me that this ACT score is even better.

I promised her clear back in October that I would post about her being admitted to Southern Utah University with a full scholarship and I haven't done it.  This week she was admitted into the honors program and encouraged to apply for an honors housing scholarship as well.  Wouldn't that be great?

By the way, She applied to Northern Arizona, BYU, and Tulane in Louisiana.  She's stubborn--didn't want anything to do with a school in CA.  Couldn't talk her into applying to an Ivy League though.  She didn't want to waste the money on fees to a school that was too far away.  (Tulane gave her free application.)

She's having a pretty good school year.  She's still dating Austin.  She's in preconditioning for softball and leading the mock trial team.  She had grade issues again though--got behind while at Yosemite for a leadership trip and never really caught back up.  It's a good thing that AP classes earn a 4.0 for a B.

She asked me to hide her phone and tablet over the Christmas break so she can finish personal progress, not as much so she can feel the accomplishment, but more so she can skip Tuesday nights more and not deal with her leaders as much.  (No, I'm not one of her leaders anymore.)

I guess the thing that I'm most happy about is that she really likes me again.  We had a couple pretty tough years.  Losing Ian in the middle of her terrible teens made even more excruciating for both of us.  Now, she wants to spend time with me.  She even told Keith that he needed to sleep on the couch last night so she could be in bed with me.

nothing much

Haven't done this for a while.
I've come to many conclusions.

Having a broken heart and a contrite spirit means you're open.  You're listening.  You're able to feel.
Feeling is not necessarily  good.  Lots of things hurt your heart when it's open.

Taking the time to write down your thoughts means you took time to understand your thoughts.  Sometimes it's better to put your head down and power through.  Not all thoughts are productive.

Most people (me included) at most times are the natural man.  We don't like change.  We're lazy and we think of ourselves.  Pretty pessimistic.

I just wanted to say a little something because my blog has been inactive so long I don't want to lose access to it.  Is that possible?

Late for Mother's Day

I'm not a real fan of Mother's Day anymore.
Whatever.
Mine was fine.
It was what I asked for.
Quiet.
No Frills.
Just a picnic in a park.
I love the frame that I got at church last year for Mother's Day.
It has a quote in it.

"Motherhood is not a hobby,  it is a calling.
It is not something to do if you can squeeze the time in.
It is what God gave you time for."  ---Neil L. Anderson

I have personal pursuits; hobbies; interests; and avocations. Motherhood trumps all of them.
I'm glad it does.
I'm glad I'm a mom.
I'm even at a place where I can say I'm glad I got to have 16 years as Ian's mom.
That was a gift--
An extension of what I now believe could have been a lot less without all the pleadings and blessings and miracles.

Life after Delivery

I heard a cute story.  It's probably all over the Internet being forwarded around in emails but I still thought it was cute and had a good point.  Here it is with a few grammar corrections by me:

In a mother's womb were 2 babies.  Yes--twins.

One asked the other: "Do you believe in life after delivery?"  

      The other replied, "why, of course.  There has to be something after delivery.  Maybe we are here to prepare ourselves for what we will be later."  

     "Nonsense," said the other.  "There is no life after delivery.  What would that life be?"  

     "I don't know, but there will be more light than here.  Maybe we will walk with our legs and eat from our mouths."  

     The other said, "That is absurd!  Walking is impossible, and eating with our mouths?  Ridiculous.  The umbilical cord supplies nutrition.  Walking after delivery is to be excluded.  The umbilical cord is too short."  

      "I think there is something and maybe it's different than it is here."  

      The other replied, "No one has ever come back form there.  Delivery is the end of life, and in the after-delivery it is nothing but darkness and anxiety and it takes us nowhere."  

     "Well, I don't know," said the other, "but certainly we will see our mother and she will take care of  us."  

     "Mother??  You believe in mother?  Where is she now?"  

     "She is all around us.  It is in her that we live.  Without her there would not be this world."  

     "I don't see her, so it's only logical that she doesn't exist."  

      To this, the other replied,  "Sometimes when you're in silence you can hear her.  You can perceive her.  I believe there is a reality after delivery and we are here to prepare ourselves for that reality."

Interesting.  Makes me think.