Testimony

Millie's sick, which means I'm home from church today, grumpy about having to fast at home all day and sad to be missing testimony meeting. I know some people aren't huge fans of the first Sunday of every month, but personally I love hearing what the people I go to church with think, feel, believe, struggle with, overcome; in essence, how they blend their faith with their daily life and inner thoughts.

As I lay in bed trying to figure out how I could mimic that experience at home, because clearly it's not happening on its own with only a coughing kid to keep me company, I realized I could bear my testimony to myself. Dorky, I know. I thought about dusting off a journal and jotting it down there. I thought about just thinking it through in my head. Then I thought I could share it here. (Maybe my kids will even look back and read it someday! Maybe...)

Living the gospel is hard. No one ever said it would be easy, but for some reason I always find myself expecting things to ease up, for age and life experience to hand me the self-will, stamina, and courage I naturally lack. Of course we come to this earth to be tested, and of course agency and personal choice, our own and others', make that testing very real almost every day. There will always be difficult choices. There will always be sacrifices. There will always be distractions and attractive temptations that make those sacrifices seem too hard and not rewarding enough.

The ironic truth that I've painfully learned over and over again in my own life, however, is that doing what we want all the time doesn't lead to happiness. Selfish, lazy, prideful choices = a short-sighted fix. Sure, it feels good in the moment. How can it not? But then that moment ends and we're left with that same hollow emptiness, the same hole we had before. And try as we may to cover up that hole with more self-serving, self-indulgent, self-gratifying activities, we simply can't do it. That hole serves a purpose.

I remember a conversation I had with a friend many years ago. We were juniors in high school and part of a big group of friends, boys and girls, that used to get together on Saturday nights to hang out. We often gathered at Andy Dodel's house where we could play ping pong or pickleball, watch TV, and eat all their food, and Andy and I had become good friends. One night he and I got talking and he acknoweldged having a good family, good times (sports, skiing, friends, school), a good life; and yet he couldn't help wondering if there was more to life than that. He, the poplular rich kid who could make anyone laugh, went on to ask me why I think we're here in this life. It was the first time someone outside of church had ever asked me that, and it was the first time I realized I knew what I knew. I'd just taken that knowledge for granted since my days in primary, and even though I certainly wasn't living up to my spiritual potential--selfish dummy until I went to college--I knew that a loving Heavenly Father had sent me to this earth and that He wanted me to learn and grow and make my way back to Him.

God's love has become so much more real to me over the years. My darkest moments, the ones where I feel like I'm drowning in loneliness, confusion, hurt, rejection, sorrow, or regret, the ones that drive me to my knees out of desperation and longing, have surprised me by also being the moments when I've felt the most reassurance that He exists, that He does care for me, that He does want to help me, and that dark moments teach me lessons I'd never learn on my own or in a life full of light ones. I always waited too long to ask and get that answer, of course. If only I'd humbled myself and sought an answer earlier, maybe the darkness wouldn't have surrounded me quite so completely. But stubborn pride = my Achilles heel, so I put it off until the near breaking point. Maybe that's what makes His mercy seem so large and undeserved in those moments, the fact that I've procrastinated feeling it for such a long time. It's amazing how months of unhappiness can almost disappear after one powerful minute of feeling Heavenly Father's love for me.

Those minutes are few and far between in my life. I have learned, however, how to access that feeling on a more regular--albeit more subdued--basis. By putting others' needs above my own, by seeking God (through reading His word, living His laws, serving in His church), I feel that gift, that extension of His love--the Holy Ghost--filling that hollow, natural man hole with a peace and happiness that the world has never been able to provide for me. It's not a fleeting, temporary joy, the kind our society teaches you get from a drink, an outfit, a high salary, a movie, a shocking word or idea, a jean size, a smug attitude, a hook-up, a material possession, a powerful job, or five-hundred Facebook friends. It's a lasting joy that changes my very nature and changes how I treat and act toward others. It's closer to the way I picture the Savior living and loving.

Why Can't I Be You?

Originally written September 17, 2007

Eli has always wanted to hang with his older brother Bennett as you can see from these 2007 photos. It led him to riding a scooter before he was 2 with B and his friends, to wanting to go to kindergarten with his bro, to wanting to practice and play with Bennett's soccer teams. Almost 6 years later, nothing has changed. Eli is reading with a vengeance in kindergarten, trying to hit the wiffle ball as hard as he can and wondering why he can't go with us and play on Bennett's basketball team this season. So here's to all the younger brothers who want to be just like their older brother!

Our child indeed

Originally written 5/26/07

Due to Eli's unusually large stature, our pediatrician gave us the go-ahead for solid foods at his four month appointment (most kids don't start until six). I laughed and thought, "No way am I ready to pull out the high chair--that I so happily placed into storage only months ago--and start pureeing vegetables again!"

The highs and lows of boys

Written 4/29/07   (Benito's age: 2.5)

Bennett has a favorite friend named Reuben. They're the same age, the same size, and apparently the same kind of crazy. Bennett talks about his buddy all the time, prays for him at night, begs to go play with him throughout the day, and always asks if Reuben will be at just about every destination we drive to. According to Reuben's mom, he does the same thing--talks about Bennett all the time when they're not together.

Going retro

Stephen challenged me to post all the old drafts, or unfinished posts, that still occupy space in our log of blog posts. We're talking five years ago old on some of these.  And we're talking very unfinished "unfinished posts" on most of these.  Hopefully they make any sense at all.  If not, be patient with our slightly jarring trip down memory lane.  Here goes!

Back to Life

Is anyone else as sad as I am that Christmas break has to come to an end? Boo, hiss! That's what I say to the end of sleeping in, the end of family snuggle fests, the end of leisurely breakfasts with hot chocolate and crossword puzzles, the end of reading when and how much I want, the end of no nagging, the end of no rushing, the end of stress-free dinners, and the end of housework equality. 

To cope with my reluctance at returning to reality, let's glance back a bit: 

Days 1-10 = Homebodies
Stephen caught a nasty virus that kept him housebound for way too many days, poor guy. Therefore we had a quiet Christmas just the five of us. Besides a few family walks and backyard ball sessions, we honestly didn't go anywhere.

Days 11-17 = Make up for lost time

We did our traditional New Year's Eve with friends
Fondue, games, fireworks, fun

Hilarious watching the kids bust a move to Just Dance

New Year's Day at Lizzy's watching the Rose Bowl

Go, Stanford!  Stephen's parents even found some Rose Bowl t-shirts for the kids

Our first venture out of the house was to Crystal Springs Reservoir

We called it hiking, although Eli pointed out "It's not hiking if there's a stroller" (he's right)

The boys enjoyed taking photos of the mileage signs

We came prepared for some seriously cold weather

But the sun warmed things up nicely for us

If you haven't been there, go.  It's off 280, right near the Highway 92 turn off to Half Moon Bay.

Check out Eli: it looks like he has a halo or an afro in this shot.  Pretty groovy.

Next up: Alviso, the very south of the SF bay and once a bustling port
(and a mere ten minutes from our house)

until they put in a railroad in 1865.

Now the marina is silted up but the wetlands are alive and well,

as are the marsh birds.

We saw three trains go past

Dandelions and All Stars

You should know by now that fall means "futbol" in our house.
Soccer family are we.

This was the first time we've had both boys play the same season, however.
Stephen had had his fill of rained-out spring games, I guess.

I didn't like the idea.
There's something about being together to support one kid's game.

It was especially tricky with Stephen helping coach both boys' teams.
Thankfully their schedules varied enough that they only overlapped a few times.



Mr. Eli ready for action on the field

Ah, the refreshing goodness of an orange at half-time

Just let me play already, you guys

With the rest of his team, the Blue King Cobras

*This is where I passed the laptop to Stephen and had him write the rest of this post*

 

This was Eli's second season, but for some reason he was that kid.  That kid that whiffed at the soccer ball the way Charlie Brown does when Lucy snatches the football away right before he kicks it.  He was the kid who was in it for the treats.  He was the one who always wanted to play with a certain buddy on the team.  And yes, he was the one lost in the clouds, prone to just lay on the ground whenever possible and dare I say, pick a dandelion or two. 

But then a miracle happened.  Grandma Paula, Grandad Jory, Connie and Kendra came for one of his games mid season (the weekend of B's baptism).  It was night and day.  Eli was aggressive, attacking the ball, an intimidating collision ready to happen.  And he even scored a goal.  He didn't let up the rest of the season, although there were still a few Charlie Brown moments--at least he was being aggressive and trying to crush the ball.  We were amazed.

 

Bennett with some special Seattle visitors, Grandad Jory and Connie--hooray!

By hilarious coincidence, Bennett ended up on one of the Le Petite Blue soccer teams.  Hilarious because we'd always felt they belonged in a competitive league, not a recreational one.  They consist of mostly French coaches and players that attend the local French American school.  (That's not why we groaned every time we played them, however)  They always dominate every team our kids have ever played on.  I mean, dominate.  Anytime we'd see those blue uniforms coming, we'd hope for the best but expect the inevitable beatdown.  We figured it was poetic justice that our kid would play on the team we had dreaded for so long.  In the end, however, we all ended up loving this team, and not just because they win every game.

 

Bennett has always had the drive and talent to play well, but this season he had an excellent coach from Montreal, Zafer Diab, who coached him to a new level.  Stephen was the proud parent as Bennett was often recognized for his play in practice and in the games.  He was the shut-down defender who had to beg the coach to let him play forward or goalie.  But he was so good on the defensive side that Coach Zafer relied primarily on him to protect our defensive half of the field as well as to find open teammates and control possession of the ball. 

 

Coach Z recognizing the team for an undefeated season
(and offering them a glass of wine; that's a soccer party first)

Benito with his medal, and the glass of wine he didn't drink :)

B and his teammate Raymond, the high scorer on the team

Coaches' moment

Coach Zafer praised B for his vision on the field and called him an exceptional player.  Bennett's play inspired us to allow him to try out for the competitive team.  After two tryouts he made the Spring competitive team and will play with his friend Luis.  It's a big commitment, but we are curious to see how B does with a higher level of competition.