I feel a Svithe coming on!

Being (very) sick this past week, I have had a lot more time to ponder things than I usually do. Mostly I've just been thinking "this hurts" or "this hurts ALOT," but I've also gotten to read and re-read a lot and I ran across one of the quotes that greatly affected how I think about life. I think I was 14-ish when it sank in for the first time.

Anne (Anne of Green Gables Anne in a later book, Anne of the Island) has a dying friend who is afraid of passing on because "it won't be what I'm used to!" Walking home from that visit, Anne reflects:

"When she came to the end of one life it must not be to face the next with the shrinking terror of something wholly different - something for which accustomed thought and ideal and aspiration had unfitted her. The little things of life, sweet and excellent in their place, must not be the things lived for; the highest must be sought and followed; the life of heaven must be begun here on earth."

The last phrase, "the life of heaven must be begun here on earth" resonated strongly with me because it made the whole "death is just a continuation of life" make more sense to me. Heaven had always been this outlandish glassy bright orb with trumpets galore and I wasn't sure if I'd really fit in there, but something clicked as I understood that I would feel comfortable there if it would be what I was most used to. And if I didn't feel like I belonged, I would probably be happier in Another Place.

Since I've been convinced that it's the place I want to be, I work on trying to fit in there.

Even when I'm sick.

A bit early, don'tcha think?

Today while reading about nudibrachs (sea slugs), the Dude misread the meaning as, "naked girls" instead of "naked gills."

Hmmm.

Wishful Thinking

When we were in the doctor's office (yes, again) yesterday, the Cita and the Dude were having a grand old time zooming around the room on the doctor's stool, climbing up on the examination table to kick their legs and hear that lovely rustling sound, and generally amusing themselves (the Cita only got to wash her hands once, though).

As soon as the doctor smilingly opened the door, the atmosphere changed from fun to terrifying. I think people in white coats are going to be on the Cita's blacklist for a while (well, if one of them made your mommy hold your hands down and another person to hold your head while they shined bright lights into your eyes or stuck many pricks into your leg, you might be wary, too).

Frantically waving her hands "goodbye, Goodbye, GOODBYE!" she scrambled into my lap and huddled there like a cold puppy. The doctor was a good sport and didn't take it personally. Rosita whimpered and struggled against getting her eyes ("goodbye!") and ears ("goodbye!")and throat ("GOODBYE!!!") checked. For some reason, she didn't mind getting her chest listened to or her tummy squished about. Maybe she thought the doctor was as interested in her bellybutton as SHE is.

Diagnosed as "nothing much to worry about," the Cita vigorously kept waving the doctor out the door, extremely satisfied that she had (eventually) succeeded in getting the nasty lady in the white coat to go AWAY.

Alien Spaceship Engine Causes Strange Effects Near Santa Cruz

Yes, I have finally visited the famous Mystery Spot.

Yes, a lot of the weirdness of the site is just tricks with perspective, but I can't explain a ball rolling DOWN a PERFECTLY level board.

Yes, I will be returning with my own level and compass and Extremely Skeptical Spozo.

Soon.

Thank you, Sister Beck!

Listening to General Conference today, Sister Beck made my day. Sometimes, especially living where I do, and even occasionally at church, I feel that being a full-time mother just isn't "enough." She just reminded me that what I am doing is what I am supposed to be doing. And I feel inspired to do a better job (especially that "house of order" bit) instead of feeling weighed down by more expectations. I look forward to reading and re-reading her talk in a month.

Also, thanks to Elder Dallin H. Oaks for the "good, better, best" - as it applies to using the internet (ahem!), and other ways of distracting ourselves from using our "free time" to the "best."

It's a little late.....

So it's been 10 years since I graduated from high school. In honor of this most momentous occasion, I publish for the first time ever a poem that one of my good friends wrote me as a going away to college present (she's now getting her PhD in Children's Literature - not surprising since she was writing stories then that were cousins to literature even then!) I ask her to forgive me for any typos that I make.

old blue pianos and unbrushed hair

just as expressive gestures
span oceans for a second, then
falter and die,
and laughter fills a belly with bread, then
becomes a stranger,

ancient keys and wild locks,
globes we palmed for a moment,
limp listlessly from us
full-grown and faded,
like all fleet things
we think we understand

and the significance of sometimes
hardens into a grayish golden hope that
rests within the instep
and hangs loosely from the joints that
persist in remembering it all

vividly.

Is anyone else excited

when they see the Family Resources catalog that accompanies the Ensign every October?