We have a handsome, intelligent, persistent, opinionated, resourceful wonderful young man in our home. A teenage man. I’ve read recently in a book hilariously titled “The Grown-Up Guide to Teenage Humans” that these teenage humans really, really need a few important things: belonging, fun, and control. In fact, they want these things so much that they will go out of their way to do the opposite of what their parents want just to assert their autonomy. Scott and I are learning about this delicate dance. I’m not going to lie–it’s a struggle sometimes figuring out how to be parents with rules and expectations while also allowing freedom to grow and choose. It’s extra hard for a set of oldest-child, somewhat type-A perfectionist parents. We are learning, I daresay, as much as our children as we go through this journey.
We expect a lot of our kids and we have a few things we insist on–family dinner, family scripture and prayer, a family date on Saturday, and church on Sunday are where we hold the line. Sometimes it’s pulling teeth to get everyone together. Regularly our cute teenage Zach says “Can we be done with now?” or “No, I’m not coming.” Or “I don’t want to go see Frozen 2 with you.” Or “I don’t feel like going to church–it’s boring.” We keep insisting. “Yep, come on up.” “Yep, it’s time to go.” Or “Yep, we’re going to give it a try.” It can be exhausting. Every once in a while I just want to cave and say “Fine, never mind. Do what you want.”
Last night it was a Sunday and we had gotten some good scripture time in during the day at church, and we said our evening prayer at the dinner table after a quick family council. It was late and I figured we could call it good. I had already gotten our super-social five year old, Sam, in bed and was walking toward the girls’ room down the hall with a hymn book to sing them a song as they were getting in to bed. Sam heard me mention something about a song and came running out of his room. “We need to do scriptures!” he said. I laughed and said, “Well we went to church today… but ok let’s do it.” Then Zach came in and climbed up to hang with his little sister on her bunk bed.
I read a quick scripture to them and sang a verse of one of my favorite hymns, “The Spirit of God.” I invited them to sing with me if they knew the words. No one knew the first verse, but during the chorus, Zach joined in singing with me. “We’ll sing, and we’ll shout, with the armies of heaven. Hosanna, hosanna to God and the Lamb.” He wanted to sing! My heart was full already. But then, I said goodnight and asked Zach to come on down and go to bed. Then he said, “But mom, we haven’t prayed yet.” I was stunned. “OK great, let’s pray.”
We never know when all the little things we are encouraging are settling in and becoming habits that our kids actually love and want. To me, last night, was a little rainbow after getting through some rain. I know this doesn’t mean the battles are over and we have officially arrived. In fact, as Zach was leaving for his carpool this morning I said “See you after school!” and he looked back and said, “Don’t be late again” and walked off. I called out, “Want to say ‘Bye Mom?'” And he half-smiled and called back, “Bye Mom” and got in the car. We continue the dance. But I’ve had a glimpse that the efforts are worth every reminder, every invitation, every insistence. We’ll get our rainbows here and there, and they are beautiful.
Last week the kids and I were reading about Nephi’s broken bow. Everyone in this scripture account other than Nephi was complaining. I can imagine it. They are far from home, they are tired, they are hungry. And the last bow just broke. “This is awful!” they probably said. “It’s not fair! How could you have let this happen? Why me?” Not Nephi though. Nephi simply went to find some wood and made himself a new bow. Then he went to his father with the Liahona and asked, “Father, which way should I go?” Everyone has broken bow moments. It’s when things go wrong. We can either whine and complain and toss ourselves on the bed, or we can be like Nephi.
Two nights ago I brought Scott up to Tollgate Canyon near Park City for a surprise, romantic getaway in a rustic cabin in the middle of nowhere. I was following the directions up these long stretches of abandoned roads, and the snow was getting deeper and deeper. Suddenly it was too deep. Our tires were spinning. The car was stuck. I had been told by the cabin manager that I would need four wheel drive (which we had) but what I didn’t know is that four wheel drive wouldn’t cut it in the wet snow from that day. We needed chains or snow tires, which we didn’t have. Scott and I got out of the car and dug the snow out around the tires. We took turns pushing the car. Nothing.
Luckily, a few minutes after we had decided this challenge was beyond us, one of the few neighbors on the mountain came driving up the road. She had tow ropes. Then another neighbor came by with a truck and snow plow, and he was able to pull us out. It was getting pretty late at that point. The light was leaving and the snow was falling. We had to decide what to do. I was cold and wet and frustrated. But I really wanted to stay at this romantic cabin. I looked at Scott–“What should we do?” He didn’t hesitate. “Let’s go get some chains!” he said.
We drove to the Walmart in Park City and walked to their chain section. We searched through all the options for a good 30 minutes. They didn’t have our size. By now it was 7:30 p.m. We hadn’t had dinner and it was officially dark. “Should we just throw in the towel and go stay at some other hotel?” I said. But Scott wasn’t ready to give up. He knew I had worked hard to plan this weekend. He jumped on the phone and called an auto parts store in Salt Lake, 30 minutes away, and asked if they had chains that were the right size for our car. They did. “Let’s call it an adventure,” he said. Like Nephi, he just figured out what needed to be done and pointed us in that direction.
By 9:30 p.m., we were back at the beginning of the snowy trail laying out chains behind our tires. The air was freezing, snow was falling, and we could barely see. I held my phone flashlight toward the tires while Scott studied the directions for how to put chains on the car. Thirty minutes later, we were ready to take another shot at the mountain road.
The chains worked! We drove through the snow and made it to one of the most beautiful, romantic, rustic, cozy log cabins I’ve ever stayed in. We spent yesterday reading by the fire, playing a card game, snow shoeing, making meals, and soaking in a hot tub. Mostly, we’ve just enjoyed the reward of being together. Now I am writing this with a blazing fire in front of me and a beautiful sparkling snowy hillside out the window.
I’m so grateful that Scott didn’t give up at our broken bow moment. He had the confidence and courage and patience to keep moving forward, even though at each tricky, cold, frustrating challenge we didn’t know if we would succeed.
I figure life is like that. Things will go wrong. Probably at least once a day I am faced with something I didn’t expect or some problem I wish wasn’t there. I hope that the next time one of those moments comes along, I’ll remember to just point myself in the right direction and get going.
One week ago today, I got a phone call from a number I didn’t recognize. I usually ignore those calls, as 9 times out of 10, someone on the other end of the line is selling something. But for some reason I answered the phone. “Heidi, this is Lisa,” the voice said. It was a neighbor who lived down the street. “This is going to sound strange, but I think your son is hurt.”
Those are words no mother wants to hear. Ever. Lisa told me the that her grandson had walked past my 14 year old son, Zach, lying in the road. I got in the car and raced to the spot where I found him there, surrounded by several neighbors. He was breathing, but incoherent.
He had been riding the new electric skateboard he had worked so hard to buy just a few weeks ago. The helmet had always been a point of contention. “You need to wear your helmet,” we had said. We showed him videos about head injuries and had countless discussions. We let him choose the one he wanted. He wasn’t wearing it.
The first to the scene before I arrived was an off-duty EMT. Then there was a nurse. And a family practice doctor. All who just happened to be going by at that time. I wonder what their stories are.
A firetruck arrived next, and then an ambulance. The medics put Zach on a stretcher and loaded him in. I said I would meet them at the hospital. I took the fastest road to Alta View’s ER and arrived before Zach and the ambulance. I paced for five minutes weeping, waiting, in the lobby. A woman brought me a tissue. When he arrived the doctors and nurses rushed to examine him and do x-rays and a CT scan. My husband and mother-in-law arrived shortly after. The doctors told us Zach would need to go to Primary children’s hospital because there was a five inch crack in his skull and some bleeding on his brain. My mother-in-law, Kerry, offered to drive me while Scott went in the ambulance with Zach. At first I told her I was fine to drive but she insisted I just sit. It was the first of my trying to be strong and only after an act of kindness realizing I was not.
I cried the whole 30 minutes to the hospital. Out of fear, out of despair, out of guilt. How could we have let our son bring something so dangerous into our home? I cried. It’s my fault he wasn’t wearing a helmet. It’s my fault. Please let him be OK. I couldn’t even see straight. I’m so glad I wasn’t driving.
We learned at Primary’s that he had no broken bones. A second CT scan on Zach’s brain, 6 hours later, was required to determine whether he would need surgery. Thankfully, the scan revealed no further bleeding. Doctors told us they were confident Zach would heal with no permanent complications. We would just need to wait and see what his recovery would look like. The first day he only occasionally knew his name. He asked questions repeatedly that we had already answered. He didn’t know what month it was. He didn’t remember the accident. I was hopeful, and at the same time, terrified.
I’ve never really been in a position to desperately need the help of family and friends. I mean, I’ve been in the hospital when I’ve had babies and accepted gifts and meals, gratefully. But this past week, I truly needed to be carried through the trauma. At first, when asked, it was easy for me to say “I’m fine. I’ll be OK. I don’t need anything,” when people asked. But I watched as people didn’t take no for an answer. My mom and mother-in-law came to sit with me. A friend set up a “meal train” to bring our family dinners every night so I didn’t have to worry about cooking. Friends came to the hospital to sit with me and let me cry to them, and then brought me dinner. Zach’s football team dedicated their game to him and wrote his name and jersey number all over their arms and legs, then won 35-0. My mom brought us fuzzy blankets and cookies in the hospital, both of which made a dark situation a little brighter. My mother-in-law gave me her coat and socks because I left my house without anything and was freezing. Loved ones called and texted to ask how he was doing and how I was doing and how our kids were doing. People took over my carpools and offered to take care of my four year old. Our bishop and ministering brothers came to the hospital to give blessings and bring the sacrament. Our whole ward had a special fast for Zach. So many people offered prayers. I’ve never been on the receiving end of such intense love and concern.
David Brooks, a New York Times columnist, recently spoke at BYU. He said there is one skill at the center of any healthy community: “the ability to see someone else deeply, to know another person profoundly, to make them feel heard and understood.” I have come to recognize that this is my village, one where people have seen me deeply and made me feel heard and understood. Brooks said that there are “weavers” among us who are able to connect with others and be emotionally available. The weavers around me have allowed me to be vulnerable and have helped me know that I am tied to something greater than myself or my little family. They held me up when I could have easily crumpled.
In the Book of Mormon, the prophet Alma taught his people to have “their hearts knit together in unity and in love one towards another” (Mosiah 18:21). I understand now that phrase more than ever. With every visit, with every phone call or text, with every meal, with every carpool taken over, with every shoulder to cry on, with every prayer, and with every warm fuzzy blanket, I have felt knit together. These individual acts of kindness may seem simple on their own, but they have sustained me during this trial. I will be endlessly grateful.
Zach is home now. He knows his name. He knows what month it is and can remember more than three numbers at a time when asked. It’s going to be a long road. He is extremely tired. His head hurts. He is moody, more than his previously typical teenage swings. His back is having muscle spasm that wake him up in the middle of the night and cause him to shuffle around like an old man. But he’s going to be ok eventually.
I know the trials we go through come for a reason. I know they make us stronger and teach us important lessons. I am trying to be grateful for trials. But what I know for sure is that I am grateful for the weavers around me who have let me know how much I am loved. Thank you, thank you, thank you for holding me up.
I love that I’ve been on the planet almost 40 years and yet I can still have “aha” moments about how to go about my life. There is just so much learning to do! I was talking with my dear sister in law, Lindsay Poelman, who is a life coach as well as a super intelligent, kind person. She taught me something that I think could be an absolute game changer in terms of interactions with close family members who are less than perfect (as much as we wish they were). In every situation we get to choose what story we tell ourselves about what is going on. We can choose to be annoyed or offended or bugged. Or we can choose compassion.
Here’s how she explained it to me. Say I really, really want my son (or husband or daughter) to take out the trash. I ask him to, and he doesn’t. I wait to see what is going to happen and guess what? He doesn’t take out the trash. Here’s where I have a choice. (As Stephen Covey puts it, what makes us different from animals is that between stimulus and response there is a pause.) What story will I tell myself? This one: “He is so lazy! He never listens! He expects me to do everything!” Yeah, I’ve been there. I hate to admit it but I have. I believe that’s sort of a natural, self-preservation gut reaction. But here is the other option: compassion. I could tell myself this story: “Poor guy. He must be stressed. He must have a lot going on. I wonder what is on his mind.”
Did you feel the difference? If I can respond with compassion, that can change everything. I’m not saying that kids shouldn’t take out the trash when they are supposed to. I am saying that I get to be in charge of my reaction. Lindsay told me about how she learned to respond to her husband (who was going through severe depression and anxiety) with compassion instead of resentment. That tweak helped put her on a path to free herself to be her best, most successful self. It also allowed him the freedom and love to start healing as well. I give her huge props for her strength and love and compassion. At the end of the day, we can’t control the people around us. And we shouldn’t try. What we can do is love them and help them to be the best they are capable of being, in their own way and time.
I am not perfect at this approach, but I’m trying. I had the opportunity to test the theory out the other morning. Scott had said something to me when he was in a hurry to get to work and my first reaction was to be offended. Then I told myself to practice compassion. “Poor guy,” I said to myself. “He must be really stressed at work right now.” Amazing the difference. Sure enough, just a few minutes later he apologized and told me he had a lot on his mind and was super stressed (with a crazy busy business to run and a scoutmaster calling that keeps him hopping). What freedom this new approach could offer! Talk about saving energy–I would so much rather give the benefit of the doubt to the people I love than waste time letting my pride get a grip on my emotions.
So going forward, I challenge you to stop before you react when someone has done something you dislike and ask yourself, “How can I react with compassion?” That’s my plan. I’ll probably get it wrong a lot, but when I get it right, it’s going to feel great.
Finding peace in times of worldwide trauma is difficult, and finding peace in times of personal trauma such as a family death or tragedy can be overwhelming. Therapist Christy Monson professionally and compassionately describes how tragedy physically changes the brain and the body, and she provides powerful techniques to help heal those invisible wounds and cope with the turmoil of our day.
My review: I have never personally experienced a real tragedy. But I have gone through hard times, ups and downs, just like everyone else in the world. That is part of our experience and it is how we grow. Knowing how to handle our difficulties can make all the difference for our happiness afterward. Whether you have experienced a tragedy or would just like tools for dealing with hardship, Christy Monson shares great perspective both from her own experience and her knowledge as a therapist. I was fascinated by her discussion about how the brain responds to traumatic situations and by her clear demonstration of steps we can take to process difficulties in life. I appreciate the opportunity I had to review the book and would highly recommend it to anyone looking for insights to healing a troubled mind.
Christy Monson received her B.A degree from Utah State University, and a M.S. from University of Nevada at Las Vegas. After her six children were raised she established a successful Marriage and Family Therapy practice. For more information, go to www.christymonson.com.
I just read the most darling book for children about finding and understanding symbols around the temple. It is so simple and sweet and yet has powerful information about the meanings behind everything from flowers below to Angel Moroni up high. Author Cami Evans does a wonderful job presenting ideas for children to think about: flowers remind us of all Heavenly Father created for us; spires remind us to look toward heaven; Angel Moroni reminds us that Christ will come to gather his people; circles remind us of eternity and sealing eternal families; sun, stars, and moons remind us of three kingdoms of glory; white is for purity, pillars are for strength, and the gate reminds us of the first step we must pass by on our covenant path to God, baptism.
I’ve never seen a book that so beautifully lays out for children the meaningful symbols of the temple and invites them to participate in not only discovering them but also understanding them. I plan to read this to my children regularly as they come to appreciate these beautiful places of heaven on earth.
I’ve been thinking lately about how important it will be, as my children grow, for me to embrace each of them for who they are and not who I think they should be. This isn’t always easy. Let’s go back a good 20 years. I was the child that got a special award for being the only person in the elementary school to enter all four categories of the Reflections contest. I was the child who in 5th grade turned down going on Caribbean Cruise because I didn’t want to miss a week of school (I still regret that one). I wanted to get all As, I wanted to be involved. I aspired for greatness, but I guess you could say I was a little high strung.
I have one child in particular who has similar aspirations to achieve, and oh does that make my heart sing when I see her sign up and contribute and try her best. I feel some sort of pride watching her join Math Olympiads and the debate team and strive for excellence in her grades and with her music. I find myself thinking “Yes! You are aiming high and accomplishing! Good for you!”
But here’s the thing. Not all of my children are this way. They are motivated in other ways and get more excited to play and relax than to achieve. Sometimes I feel my younger self worrying. “But you can’t miss a day of school, or be late to class, or not study for a test!” Then I remind myself, “Oh, there are so many good ways to be in this world.”
Today I make a promise to myself to love each of my children for their strengths and their weaknesses, because both make them beautiful. And one of my most favorite scriptures (Ether 12:27) reminds me that it is in our weakness that we find our strength and that it is only through those weaknesses that we learn to rely on grace. Yes, my children are flawed. And that is by design.
For family night this week, we watched a video about a little bird sitting in a wet nest in the rain, waiting for his eggs to finally hatch while watching a beautiful, singing, hatching bird family next to him. The bird rolls his eyes in the drizzle and pulls out his cell phone, scrolling through images of other birds having fun and looking amazing. He tries to sleek his hair back to match one of the more handsome birds he sees, and his hair falls back flat in his face. He slumps down in the wetness. Just then another bird starts gathering a choir of all the birds around. The wet bird in the nest at first shakes his head no. Surely he has nothing to offer. But with a little encouragement from the choir director he finally flies over to join all the different voices. When he finally opens his mouth, he realizes he has a beautiful, deep baritone to contribute, making the music even better than before. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VlB0WoF18V0
I love the reminder that we are all important and valuable exactly the way we are. God’s choir is meant to have many voices. We all have our good stuff and our hard stuff. As a mom, my job will be to keep that in mind as I watch my precious little ones grow. I’ll keep encouraging them to be their best, but I’ll try to remember that their path to happiness and their best self will be different than mine. They will turn into exactly the people they are meant to be, and thank goodness for that.
I recently finished a wonderful book called “The Shell Seekers” that captures the story of three generations of family members. Some I fell in love with and some made me cringe. Within the family there are a few characters who prioritize material possessions, money, and status. Other characters find happiness in things like spending time in a garden, at the beach, enjoying a piece of art, or time with people they love. The book got me thinking about how often we chase the wrong things in the name of happiness. A shiny new car, another new outfit, a big promotion, a checked-off to-do list. Usually, though, joy is simpler than that. It’s right there in front of us, waiting to be picked up. Kind of like shells in the sand. Funny how good I used to be at picking up shells with my bucket on the beach. Grownups sometimes forget.
One day recently with this book on my mind, I was on a run with my dog. It was a sunny day and he was just leaping around in front of me, exploring the trail and bushes, stopping to look back at me periodically with his tongue flopping out the side of his mouth. I swear he can smile. I was listening to an NPR podcast about research on joy. Scientists, the host explained, had discovered something interesting about joy in a recent study. They had asked hundreds of people what brought them joy. The results were surprising. Joy, they found, wasn’t anything grand or complicated. People reported finding joy in little moments when time just dissolved. Maybe it was watching a child play with bubbles, or seeing hot air balloons in the sky, or sipping a cup of hot chocolate, or meeting a friend for lunch. I slowed down and thought about that for a minute. How easy it might be to miss those moments.
For me, as a stay-at-home mom, I probably have hundreds of moments in a day where I could pick up a little joy. Yes, at any given time, I might have laundry to fold, dinner to cook, bills to pay, a carpool to drive, dishes to do, a doctor’s appointment to make, a leaking fridge to address, and a toilet to unclog. But when my little four year old son came up to me recently and said, “Mom, would you snuggle me?” and gave me that look with his big brown eyes, I had a choice to make. I could think about what I wouldn’t be getting done, or I could pick him up, and lay down with him in the sunny spot in our window alcove and just snuggle together. Which is what I did. I enjoyed. En-JOY-ed. I wonder how many of those moments I miss.
For today, and hopefully tomorrow, I am recommitting myself to joy. When I have a minute to sit and listen to Ellie tell me about school, or when Addie asks me to brush her hair or play Uno, or when Zach wants to show me the latest dog meme that made him laugh, or when Sam asks for just one more bedtime story, I am going to say yes. I am going to pick up that tiny shell in the sand and know that this is what life is all about anyway. The lengthy to-do list can wait a few more minutes.
A few months before Christmas we warned our children that we did not want presents to be the focus of the season. We were going to think about what we wanted to give. No lengthy lists of all the items they wanted for Christmas. This season was going to be about the Savior and what we could do to be more like him. Shocking us, one of our children actually said, “I think that will help us all be happier.” Wise little souls they can be.
What we didn’t tell them was that our family Christmas present was going to be a surprise trip to Mexico, leaving the day after Christmas. On Christmas morning, they unwrapped a few little gifts they had gotten for each other and opened their stockings with treats from Santa. Then they each got one gift bag from Mom and Dad. As they looked inside and found a swimming suit, flip flops, and snorkel set, they got a little suspicious and all looked our way, waiting. We sat there and just said “Merry Christmas!” They stared. We giggled and then said, “OK, we have one more thing.” Then we gave them each an envelope with a bow. Inside the envelope, each child found a copy of a plane ticket to Cancun and a few photographs of the white sand, turquoise beaches we’d be enjoying for the next week. They jumped and screamed and Ellie even said “I knew you were going to do something like that!!” She’s very perceptive. So we packed our bags that day and took off the next morning for the Yucatan.
We had lived in Mexico when our oldest was just a year and a half and spent a month enjoying one of the most beautiful, geologically diverse places I’d ever been. Underground rivers, cenotes, tropical forests, beautiful beaches, Mayan ruins…it’s an adventure paradise. So I couldn’t wait to bring the kids back to explore. We decided to do our lodging on the cheap through Air BNB, which worked out great. Nothing fancy (as in, our place was on the fourth floor and the elevator only worked about 1 out of every 5 trips and when it stormed one day we had water leaking through window onto the bedroom floor). Still, we had a great view of the ocean from our balcony window, an infinity pool pool to enjoy, and awesome boogie boarding waves just steps away. The kids were in heaven.
Because we felt great about the money we were saving on our accommodations, we decided to splurge a bit on a couple of day-long excursions. Our first big outing took us an hour and a half south to an eco-adventure park called Xel-ha. The first thing I loved after we walked in was knowing we could go to any restaurant and eat whatever we wanted–and not have to worry about dishes. (I’m a mom cooking and cleaning for 6 daily so you see the draw.) Now we were on vacation! Zach got the biggest kick out of the soda stations where he could just stop, get a drink of whatever he wanted, leave his cup, and carry on to whatever cool activity was next on the agenda.
The park is nestled on the edge of the ocean where a giant, clear lagoon works its way to the coast from a ways inland. We rode bikes to the top of the lagoon, then snorkeled down. We floated in tubes, we zip-lined, we cliff jumped, we rode a giant waterslide down from the top of a lighthouse, and we zip biked through a rainforest (basically riding a bike in the air attached to a cable above so you can soar over cenotes, through caves, beside waterfalls). The girls and Scott even got to do a dolphin interactive experience, which they loved. We kept all our stuff in lockers so we could just walk around in swimsuits, playing, swimming, and stopping in restaurants when we got hungry. The weather was lovely, and after a short afternoon shower we even looked up to find a rainbow arching over the place. Heavenly.
We left Xel-ha wet, happy, and full of delicious Mexican food then spent the next day relaxing back at our condo. Then we were ready for another adventure. We had heard about a tour company called Alma’s LDS Tours, which offered a specific Book of Mormon emphasis to some of the Mayan ruins. We decided that sounded just right for us. The tour bus picked us up at 7 a.m. and we headed back down south to explore the ruins of Tulum and Coba. Tulum was a gorgeous civilization built between the 13th and 15th centuries right on the Caribbean coast. Our wonderful tour guide Arnie shared the history of the area and then pointed out interesting LDS tidbits, like the many carvings of what has been dubbed the “descending God,” a figure that looks like it is coming down from heaven to live among the people. Book of Mormon scholars think that the Nephite civilization could have been just south of this area so the story of a God coming down from heaven sounds a lot like 3 Nephi, when Christ comes down to heal and teach the Nephites.
In the ruins of Coba, first settled around 100 A.D., we found more Book of Mormon similarities, such as a carving of a tree with two men that looked rather unhappy and turned away from the tree, and another two men walking toward it. Lehi’s Tree of Life perhaps? Our tour guide also asked Zach to read from the Book of Mormon where we learned about raised roads that paved the way between cities (see 3 Nephi 6:8).
We read this scripture standing in an area where there is evidence of an ancient road raised off the ground (or “cast up” as it reads in the Book of Mormon). How cool is that? The Book of Mormon is a record of an ancient civilization that would have been near the ancient people of the Yucatan. I loved thinking about these histories and the way the people lived and loved and worshiped many hundreds of years ago. Plus, it’s significant to remember that Joseph Smith hadn’t been on vacation recently to the Yucatan when he was translating the plates. He just wrote down what he saw. Coba wasn’t officially discovered in modern times until 1926, 82 years after Joseph Smith died.
Our last stop was at a beautiful cenote (or pool of water in a cave fed by the underground rivers that run through the Yucatan) where my kids completely peer pressured me into jumping off the highest platform I ever have into the water below. I think it was Eleanor Roosevelt who said “Do one thing every day that scares you.” Check. We drove home, first stopping to drop off another family at an all-inclusive place that we were told cost $800 per person per day. The kids asked if we could do that next time. We laughed. “Um, probably not.”
All in all, the trip was an incredible success. We got everything we were looking for: family time, warm weather, the beach, culture and history, and lots of adventure. It wasn’t easy getting on the plane and realizing that in four hours the temperature outside was going to go from 80 degrees to 20. Luckily, these sorts of experiences don’t completely get left behind with the weather. We keep them in our minds and hearts and remember them forever. I have a feeling that this December we might just give our children the same warning that we will not be honoring wish lists for toys and clothes. We want to give something more–something that last a lifetime.
Last night for our family home evening we decided to work on setting some goals for the new year. We usually do this every January. Typically, we all will write down a few things on a piece of paper, wish the kids luck, and some weeks later completely lose track of the papers and whatever was written on them. Well, thanks to a little inspiration from a book by the amazing Linda and Richard Eyre called The Entitlement Trap we felt inspired to step it up a notch. This year, I gave each person in our family a thick poster board that they could write on and keep in their room to actually notice and remember what it is we are working toward.
When we finally had wrangled all four kids into the family room, I turned on a video as an introduction to the night’s purpose (it’s amazing the magic of a quick video to get their attention). This two-minute video helped me step back a bit as I asked what we are hoping to achieve. We are hoping, little by little, to become more like the Savior.
I loved watching this video for the reminder it gave me about what I want to become–more selfless, more kind, more loving, more humble. We have been commanded to “be perfect” (3 Nephi 12:48), but not all at once. Heavenly Father wants us to do our best to progress in this life because he knows our potential. He knows we can become like Him, because we are his children. He has told us that “by him, and through him, and of him, the worlds are and were created, and the inhabitants thereof are begotten sons and daughters unto God” (D&C 76: 24). What a powerful reminder–I am his daughter and I can become like him!
We’ll make mistakes. In fact, shortly after this inspiring video about becoming more loving and selfless, two siblings began arguing over who should be using what markers that may or may not belong to someone specific. And cute Sam was coloring with a marker that not only covered the entire board but spread all over his hands, feet, and face as well. Sigh. Perfection? We’re not even close. But that doesn’t mean we can’t start with the end in mind.
We won’t get there today, but maybe, just maybe, if we remind ourselves regularly (perhaps with a giant board in our room) we’ll be a little better next year than we are today. Thankfully, we’re not on our journey alone. God didn’t say “be perfected all by yourselves. Good luck.” He said, “Come unto Christ, and be perfected in him” (Moroni 10: 32). What an invitation! For me, that means remembering that His grace is enough to have me covered, with all of my flaws and mistakes. All I have to do is my best to become like Him, and try again, and again, and again.