InLoveBlog

Sunday Pin: The Lower Lights

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Today at church we had a mission farewell. Another young man in our congregation will be leaving his family for two whole years to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ this time to Guatemala. The missionary program of my church is pretty miraculous. This young man and eight other members of his family sang a beautiful rendition of Brightly Beams Our Father’s Mercy.  I love the hymn and they had gorgeous four part harmony.

It sounded about like this but with a lot fewer voices.


Don’t you just love those lyrics?

Brightly beams our Father’s mercy
From his lighthouse evermore,
But to us he gives the keeping
Of the lights along the shore.

[Chorus]
Let the lower lights be burning;
Send a gleam across the wave.
Some poor fainting, struggling seaman
You may rescue, you may save.

Dark the night of sin has settled;
Loud the angry billows roar.
Eager eyes are watching, longing,
For the lights along the shore.

Trim your feeble lamp, my brother;
Some poor sailor, tempest-tossed,
Trying now to make the harbor,
In the darkness may be lost.

I would have never thought of this song as a good song to send a missionary out to the field with, but WOW, how powerful it was to think of this hymn in the perspective of a missionary being a lower light.

Speaking of missionaries, check out these musical geniuses. LG and I both LOVE this rendition. I do enjoy how Mormons love music.

I want to be a lower light. I want to rescue and save all the struggling seaman wherever they may be. I will trim my feeble lamp and I will go forward knowing God can work miracles with my teeny little lamp.

And I can’t think of the lower lights without thinking of one of my favorite music groups The Lower Lights. They combine my love for southern gospel and Mormon missionaries. Enjoy. This song better be sung at my funeral someday.

This was a great concert; I’m glad I got to be there in person.

African Proverb: The Village

In the past week my eyes have been opened to the fact that it is wonderful to belong to a church family.
In four different moments I had a deep sense of love for my neighbors and gratitude for my village of residence.

The first was during last week’s Relief Society (my church’s female organization) activity. We had the most fun back-to-school themed activity where we had workshops about lifelong learning, community volunteering, healthy lunches, and teacher’s gifts. After the great informative classes taught not by experts but by my fellow church-going women who studied and shared knowledge (thank you Pinterest) we had a fun recess and lunch. The ladies shown below made me laugh with their hairnets and it was just so enjoyable to sit and chat with other women while eating a cafeteria style lunch.

Then on Saturday we had a pretty big storm and a neighbor posted on Facebook that they had a large fallen limb threatening to crush their fence. By the time we got to the house to help the limb was not only dislodged but cut into pieces. Ten others had showed before us and working alongside them felt like a sacred privilege.

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Bella was really sad that for the third year in a row she wasn’t going to have a grandparent at grandparent’s day. She is sensitive like that and I wanted to be accommodating. My parents live four hours away and my in-laws live across the country. Lucky for me she has a special relationship with one of her previous primary leaders. When I called to ask Joyce if she would be willing to be Bella’s adopted grandparent she said, “It would be my privilege.” I hung up the phone with tears in my eyes.

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Later that day while walking through the neighborhood I saw two home-teachers out not just doing their home-teaching but going the extra mile and changing a starter in the car of a single mom. I got a lump in my throat and turned back to take a picture. I just knew that I had to share the joy of living among like-minded neighbors who all look out for each other.

I am so blessed to live in a pretty great village. Now, how do I get those home-teachers for when my transmission gives out? Just kidding. Kind of.

I look forward to sharing more African Proverbs. I’ve added a menu up top inspired by this query on pinterest.  I hit the jackpot on wisdom on Pinterest and in my choice of neighborhoods.

After I prepared for this post on Tuesday with the above pin, I went to pick up my girls from their activity at church and discovered that our family had been blessed this week yet again. One leader covered for another leader in emergency and by herself she forged through the originally planned activity. She single-handily did every one of these girls hair all pretty as promised. I have four daughters and I don’t think in my entire motherhood career I have done that much hair. The neighbors in my village are pretty phenomenal. I hope you are blessed with a village just like mine. If you aren’t, no matter where you are in the world, there is probably one just like them to be found at your nearest The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. By their fruits ye shall know them.

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Saving Ourselves and I’m Not Talking about Premarital Sex

saving yourselfA while back our marriage counselor said this,

“There is nothing that will make an individual sexier than for them to take care of themselves instead of looking outside themselves to be saved.”

We were discussing my ability to stay under budget and something that my husband needed to do for himself – I can honestly say I have no recollection of what his homework was. That’s a good sign that I am rightly focusing on myself.

She continued, “Alice, you need to understand that when you are staying under budget, it is a real telltale sign to LG that he can trust you to take care of yourself. When you do what you need to do to be financially secure, he will look at you with a whole new-found respect.In fact you will not only be trustworthy but sexy.”

Last night I screwed up. I didn’t go over budget. Yeah for me! I did let my husband down by not really knowing what to do once he was vulnerable in telling me his fears. In fact I totally floundered.

I just sent him off an e-mail – sometimes communicating through writing is so much easier than words. I tried to apologize and I also tried to explain that I need to feel the security that he can take care of his own problems. After I hit “send” I went over to Pinterest wasting time until preschool starts this morning and this pin came up.

This says exactly what I was trying to say in about 300 words less than I did. It also spoke to me as if from my husband. Ofttimes I go directly into save mode when people don’t need saving. I have a huge flaw in thinking that everyone needs saving and I mean EVERYONE. I can’t fathom the idea that people can actually manage their own lives. This incorrect principle at my very core makes it very hard for me to have healthy relationships with people.

Saving ourselves is so much more empowering than waiting for others to save us and yes it’s even sexy. If I can convince myself that the only person I need to save is me then my job responsibility just went down by 99.9%. When I look at it that way saving myself seems simple. I’ve gotten a lot better at saving myself. I now just need to learn how to not only let other people save themselves but also how to best support them while they do. It’s a whole new world that I am navigating.

Sugar-free No-Bake Cookies

Here is an old family favorite that I altered in my attempts at clean eating. They turned out pretty good.

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1/4 cup butter
1 1/2 cups of honey
1/2 cup milk
3 Tablespoons cocoa
1 cup all-natural peanut butter
3 cups oats
1 tsp vanilla

Combine butter, honey, milk, cocoa, and peanut butter in a medium saucepan and bring to boil on a medium high heat. Add oats and vanilla. Mix well and spoon onto parchment paper. Let cool.

Enjoy.

Lessons from the trail: Arriving

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I started running 22 months ago. When I started I was 235 pounds and couldn’t run a lap. I am now 190 pounds and have run a half marathon without stopping. My pace has fluctuated but has consistently increased. It’s been a long haul, but I have not quit. I have laced up those running shoes no matter what almost every T,TH,S for two years. When I started I thought if I could just run a 9 minute mile, I’d be happy. I was lucky to get a 14 minute mile back then.

Last week, I had a really great “I’ve finally arrived” moment. It went something like this: I was trudging along the trail, doing the best I could and running at what I thought was my typical 10-11 minute per mile pace. I glanced back (as I typically do in case there are any rapists following me) and saw three serious running ladies running towards me all in the latest running fashions. Their fluorescent colors were a dead give away that they were out to own that trail.

I knew they were coming for me. I steeled myself for the assault. Even though they were a good half mile back, I just knew they would be running past me any second. They wouldn’t be sweaty or even winded…they would just fly on by like all the real runners so often do. I told myself for the thousandth time that it didn’t matter. I was on the trail just like them. I was a runner just like them. Heck, we were all wearing the same long distance runner’s water belt and I even had on a fluorescent pink shirt. Showing up is what really mattered, but then something magical happened…they didn’t pass me. I kept on running and forced myself not to look back again. I focused and ran my little heart out. My running app alerted me that I had run another mile. My pace was 8 minutes 30 seconds. What??? No wonder they hadn’t passed me. Several more minutes went by before they finally did pass me. I snapped the above picture (mentally and literally) as the moment was a beautiful one for me.

I took off my headphones and hollered, “I’ve been waiting for you guys. You better pick up your pace, it took you a lot longer than I thought it would. You must be at the end of your marathon.” Yes, I haggled them. I’m obnoxious like that.  I think it is always a good thing to show the skinny runners that us fat runners are serious about our sport too. They chuckled and passed on by as I slowed to snap their perfect silhouettes against the sunset. One lady took a second to turn back and say, “We just started, you’ve probably been out here longer than we have.”

I put my phone back away and ran along behind them for a long time. I ran right behind them for another mile until it was time for me to turn around. Tears came to my eyes as I couldn’t believe that I somehow managed to run at the same pace as the ladies in the big league for several miles.  I didn’t know how that could even be possible. My feelings of pride and self-satisfaction alone powered me the two more miles home when I was stunned to see I had run seven miles at an average of 9.3 minutes per mile. Those girls had put a little pressure on my mind and my body and my legs had responded with ease. I had upped my pace by about a minute per mile and I had gotten pretty dang close to my original “I will have arrived when I get there” goal.

A few days later I ran five miles in a row with my coveted nine minutes per mile pace and last Thursday I ran another four at a 9.5 minutes per mile pace. As I go out and work hard on the trail to keep a hold of this faster pace it is challenging. I am at a new level of competition. It’s competition with myself to see if I can perform at my fullest every time I get on the trail without other runners chasing me and putting on the pressure. I can’t stop thinking of those three runners and thanking them for the push that I didn’t even know I needed.

And my lesson from the trail: I arrived but the fierce sense of satisfaction only lasted for a short moment. I now have a new arrival goal, so I plan to try and just enjoy the journey, it lasts a lot longer than the arrival.

Sunday Pin: My Treasure

Two beautiful works of art have touched me deeply this weekend. I hope I can do them justice as I piece them together to tell you of the profound inspired message they’ve etched on my soul.

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The first was this painting that hangs in the LDS Church History Museum in Salt Lake City. It is entitled Lehi’s Dream by Steven L. Neal. This copy I found online doesn’t do the original justice. The piece is absolutely beautiful. When an artist can make light illuminate from his brush strokes it always leaves me in awe. This piece won first prize in the 1987 Fine Arts Competition and hangs right outside the bathrooms on the main floor of the museum. It’s a good thing we needed a pit stop or I might have missed it all together. I find it very curious that although we went to the museum to see some Norman Rockwell originals (I love Norman Rockwell) this piece touched me so much deeper.

For those of you unfamiliar with Lehi’s Vision, this piece references 1 Nephi 8 from The Book of Mormon. Lehi was a prophet who shared a vision about the tree of life. In the vision, those who cling to the rod (scripture) will be lead to the tree to gain eternal life. The great and spacious building is depicted on the right – it represents worldliness.

What struck me so powerfully in this masterpiece were the people who had reached the tree. They are at the bottom of the piece and they are all holding a portion of light in their hands. Directly above dreaming Lehi, the mother is holding the small child and is kneeling across from the father who is holding the child’s hand. Their circle of love brought tears to my eyes.

Could it possibly be that simple? Light and joy is found in the family? When you find it you have no need for the great and spacious building or anything limited to its realm? Those with the light in this painting don’t even seem to notice the grandiose structure which holds kings and queens and treasures galore much less the college degrees, prestigious titles, fame, and the slew of other stumbling blocks to real happiness. While looking into this painting, I received a message just for me. It was an answer to a conversation LG and I had just the evening before. I wondered what would make me really happy. What did I need to feel completely fulfilled in this life? Surely, the answer couldn’t just be motherhood. What would happen to me if my kids grew up to be total losers? Surely I can’t allow my happiness to be contingent on them.

A tear ran down my cheek. Besides my own salvation, the only other thing that matters to my eternal destiny is whether or not my family will be with me on the side of light or not. All the other things I have worried about and considered to give me the personal happiness I’ve been lacking are just me stabbing at the facets of that great and spacious building. I have everything I need within the walls of my own home, I’ve just been too prideful to see it.

The second form of art came to me this morning via the local radio station that plays church music on Sundays. I don’t even think I have to tell you how this song touched me if I just tell you the title. It’s sung by Mindy Gledhill and its called More than The World. Take a listen and join me on my second journey this weekend into the beauty we call family.

As I sat down to write this post a scripture came to mind. I made it into a pin with a picture of my view while hiking with Abigail early this summer. We were headed down a beautiful mountain trail and in the moment as I snapped this picture I felt such a love and admiration for my oldest daughter.  In this moment, just as with the two pieces of art, I was able to capture my real treasure. I am so very blessed to be a mother and I am so grateful God has been patient with me as He repeatedly opens my eyes to the true happiness that I can only find here at home.

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Sugar-free Parmesan Chicken Soup

I have a lot of friends who are consultants for The Pampered Chef.
You can buy from either of my two most serious PC friends here (UT) or here (TN).
I recommend all their products.

Christine served this soup at her open house last year
and I made a mental note to make it at home because I liked it so much.
I forgot about it.

A few weeks ago Amanda posted a picture of this same soup on her Instagram.
I then needed my chicken parmesan fix that had been lingering in remission for a year.
I couldn’t shake it.
I tracked down the recipe and altered it to be sugar-free.
The soup turned out so great I thought I would share it with the rest of you.

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First, I had to make my own marinara sauce.  This one was o.k. but I will be searching for a sugar-free bottled marinara. I’m lazy like that. Until I can find one, I guess I will still with making a super large batch and freezing the excess for later use.

Chicken Parmesan Soup

2 cups of cubed sourdough bread (Most sourdough is sugar-free but I’ve also  made these croutons with my honey whole wheat bread and it works fine also)
2 tbsp melted butter
3 tbsp Johnny’s Garlic spread  (I buy this at Costco)
2 tbsp olive oil
1 medium onion chopped
4 minced garlic cloves
1 1/2 cups water combined with 3 dissolved chicken bouillon cubes for broth
2 cups sugar-free marinara sauce
1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes undrained
2 1/2 cups diced cooked chicken breasts

2 oz fresh shredded Parmesan cheese
3/4 cup shredded mozzarella cheese

For the croutons: Toss bread cubes, melted butter and 1 tbsp of the rub together, spread bread onto small cookie sheet. Toast in toaster-oven til slightly brown and crispy. Set aside to serve on top of soup.

The soup: In a large pot, sautee the olive oil, diced onion, and minced garlic over medium heat until onions are cooked through and tender. Add in cooked chicken just for a minute to let the flavors grab into the chicken. Stir in the chicken broth, remaining 2 tbsp rub, marinara sauce, tomatoes. Keep stirring until soup is hot.

(You can microwave this by throwing all ingredients together in a microwave safe dish. Cover it and cook on HIGH 11–13 minutes or until soup is hot.)

Stir in Parmesan right before serving. Sprinkle mozzarella cheese and croutons on top to your heart’s content.

Here is The Pampered Chef video tutorial for their original unaltered recipe.

Enjoy! My whole family sure did.

You Used How Much Laundry Detergent?

 

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I just read this awesome article about how my generation of parents is enabling, stifling, and protecting their kids too much. I have to say I 100% agree. In fact, I have been part of the problem. I am trying to change.

My marriage counselor helped me to see what outcome I should want to have: kids who at 18 can manage their lives for themselves. That means that they need to start doing their own laundry, taking caring of their own time management, being in charge of their own homework, and managing their own relationships. There needs to be clear rules and consequences to the acceptable state of the house for all family members and we all need to be held accountable. I needed to not rescue my children as often as I was rescuing them. I needed to stop taking the stuff up to the school that they forgot. I needed to make them order their own fast food. If I don’t do these things now, they won’t be ready. It was pretty eye-opening when I started to see everything that I do as a parent that has robbed my kids an opportunity to learn to do it for themselves.

I laughed when I recently told a friend about my counselor’s suggestion. She had posted a picture of a humongous pile of socks. I told her that at the suggestion of my counselor, all but one of my children are now doing their own laundry and that I no longer have to deal with the sock pile. It’s awesome. She replied to me, the same exact way I had responded to the counselor. “I’m not ready to manage that right now. I can’t handle it.” My counselor called me out on my control issues (I spared my friend) and said, “No, you can handle it, it will be easier to handle actually. You just aren’t ready to give up control.” Ouch. We immediately went home and started the new and improved way of doing laundry.

It’s a cinch. It takes no management. I won’t say my kids love it, but they are incredibly impressed with their new-found independence and responsibility. The three of them each have one day a week that they know is their laundry day. When they get home from school, without even being reminded, they immediately go and put their stuff in the washer (or dryer if they really had their act together before school). The consequence was clearly lined out. If they don’t do their own laundry on their own laundry day, they will have to haggle with someone else to share their day or they will have to go a whole week without clean underwear. Yes, it sounds a lot like real life. That’s the point. You will be amazed at how well your kids will manage when they don’t want to be without their favorite clothes for a week.

I chuckle as I think about telling the counselor that I couldn’t possibly let the kids do their own laundry. “They will waste so much water and laundry detergent. It’s just more efficient for me to do it all.”  She asked me this, “What is your goal for your children?” I answered, “I guess for them to be happy, functioning and self-sufficient adults.” She answered, “Well then, the cost of a little water and laundry detergent is what you are going to have to deal with – it’s what good parenting requires.”

I hate it that she is always right! And then while I sit here and blog while my daughter is running upstairs with her own laundry that I never have to worry about again, I love it that she’s always right. That session was the best $80 I’ve ever spent.

My Man Reads My Mind

 

marriageLast weekend our family attended a local safety fair. There was a variety of booths where we stopped and discussed different parts of safety for the whole family. We learned about being safe around the railroad, the hazards of smoking, wearing our seat-belts, having a fire escape plan, eating healthy, and touched on internet safety. One of the girls’ favorite object lesson was wearing the drunk goggles and trying to walk the yellow line. It was quite entertaining.

We happened upon a veterinarian’s booth. We discussed safety for pets (don’t let your dog drink anti-freeze) and then they gave us a free measuring scoop with a handle for dog food. I thought it was pretty cool as I have always just used an old cup. I asked the lady about how much food was the right amount to be feeding our 16 pound dog and mentioned that she seems to be gaining weight. The lady answered my questions and then went into her spiel about what other services their vet clinic offered.

LG was standing close by watching the interaction. As the lady mentioned that the clinic offered laparoscopic surgery, my interest was piqued. I started busting a gut and said, “I can’t believe there is such a thing for dogs. That just cracks me up.” The lady looked puzzled. My husband came to my rescue. He knew exactly what I had thought and completely understood why I was l laughing hysterically. The joke inside my mind was pretty dang funny. He was chuckling at me and my funny joke. He then burst my comedic bubble as he put his hand on my shoulder to shut me up and calmly said to the lady, “Excuse my wife, she confused laparoscopic surgery for gastric bypass surgery.” The lady then laughed along. I looked at LG in utter amazement that 1 – he knew the joke in my messed up mind, 2 – he thought it was funny too, and 3 – he had come to the rescue of this ditsy woman who confused her vocabulary once again.What could have been a totally humiliating moment became extremely entertaining.

I apologized to the lady through my snorting. The whole thing had put me into hysterics. I could not stop laughing. I gave my husband of 16 years a kiss after coming up for some air. He shook his head at my silliness. I stood amazed at our twin-like intuition. We are in sync! Marriage is a beautiful beautiful beautiful (and hysterical) thing. How blessed I am to have such a wizard of a man.

Parenting as Partners

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It’s 3:14 a.m. and I had to come and write about the most profound dream I just had. I feel like it was a vision. I don’t quite understand it but I know it was meant to teach me something. I have the most deep satisfying sense of love and loyalty for my parents right now. It’s as if God allowed me to see them for the beauty they radiate…beauty that my pride has all too many times not allowed me to see in the past.

This dream is incredibly special to me, especially tonight, as LG and I both went to bed completely emotionally spent. We went on a walk last night and discussed some troubles in our marriage. LG feels like I don’t appreciate what he provides (when I do) and I feel like he doesn’t appreciate my role as the family nurturer (when he really does). Our perceived hurts from each other are really just our own insecurities about what we are unable to contribute to the family. Yesterday in church we had a lesson about The Family: A Proclamation to the World and one line kept reoccurring to me throughout this dream as it did while LG and I were trying to reconcile our hurts last night.

By divine design, fathers are to preside over their families in love and righteousness and are responsible to provide the necessities of life and protection for their families. Mothers are primarily responsible for the nurture of their children. In these sacred responsibilities, fathers and mothers are obligated to help one another as equal partners.

My parents, like LG and I, have made many mistakes. Many. They have screwed up and will continue to screw up until they die, but in this dream God communicated to me. He opened my eyes. Only one thing is needful in parenting. Only one thing. The one thing that God will judge us by is the fact that we loved our children. In this dream God showed me how much my parents love. He showed me how richly blessed I have been to have the kind of parents that I do, they are gems above any others on the earth because their love is almost perfect. They have learned total selflessness and complete fidelity. They are as obedient to God as they have the capacity to be and they love Him, they love each other; they love their fellow man, and they love their children. They will be exalted. Nothing else matters. They have learned the lessons that matter most. They have passed the test of mortality. They are good to go.

So after I tell you about this dream, you may wonder how in the world I draw my conclusions, but that is how I know this dream was from God. Only God can communicate to a person without an explanation. Mortality is full of distractions. Our natural man is given to us as our test, and once in a while, God will try to get around it to help to teach us. A series of images in a dream is our natural man’s broken way of receiving it.

So in this dream my brother Adam was living in a house. All my siblings and our spouses had all gathered at his request. My parents were dead and it wasn’t a recent occurrence, but some time had passed. We all went. All of us were looking for wisdom we didn’t know we were missing. The house where Adam lived was in one of the nicest places of our hometown. It had a beachfront view, yet it was extremely modest from the street. It was white with cottage style windows. We gathered in the garage to talk. Adam revealed to us that this home belonged to all of us. It was bought by my parents while they were living. All of use were astounded. My parents have always struggled financially. There is no way they could have afforded this home, yet there it was in all its glory. We became emotional, not because we now had this dream vacation home, but because my parents had sacrificed so much to give it to us.

Adam began to show us around. As the tour of the home (and the dream) progressed it became very apparent that this was not just some ordinary modest home. This place was a mansion above all mansions. We went outside to see the vast ranch-land. There were horses, enough for each of my siblings and our spouses. There was a cow and a pig and other farm animals. Someone had cared perfectly for each of the animals. They each had a beauty and cleanliness of the most cared for and primped animals with the blue ribbons at the fair. We were all astounded that a place like this could exist and that a place like that was ours and mostly that the only reason we earned it was because of the righteousness and love and loyalty of our parents.

Adam explained to us that he had been caring for the place since my parents had passed and that he was in a desperate situation to provide the necessary upkeep. There were servants to be paid and fed. He didn’t have any of his own means and it was too much for him to handle. It was more than he could afford, so he made the judgement call to sell off the only thing he had of value. He was completely tore up about it: he had sold four of the horses. He was ashamed. He didn’t want to reveal to any of us that he had not been able to care for my parents legacy with the ease that they had. They had somehow brought all of this to fruition but he was giving it to us without its entirety because of his own shortcomings. None of us cared. Horses could be replaced and none of us felt that we needed to ride them all together anyway. We could share the horses that were left or we could sell the rest if that was necessary. We didn’t care about the horses. We cared about Adam. We all felt such compassion and love towards Adam who had carried the burden of providing for our parents legacy without us. (I don’t totally understand that meaning of this part of the dream but I know it is significant so I am including it here for further pondering at a time when I am more awake)

We went into the house. We gathered in the kitchen. Adam showed us each our own rooms. One at a time. We didn’t have to physically walk there, we just could transplant ourselves into the rooms. In each of the rooms information was gathered by each of us that made a whole collection like pieces of a puzzle. My parents had left notes to each of us, hidden in places that were specific to each. The notes were found in places only we would know to look. and so Adam had not figured it out. They were handwritten and hidden by my mother. She thought she had done this without my father’s approval, but he knew about each instance and allowed it as he wanted her to have the joy of giving without the burden of taking from him.

As we explored our rooms of the mansion, each of us found two things 1-an insane amount of money that was designated from and for different purposes (past and present) and 2-a note of history and instruction. For instance, my find was a letter from the top dresser drawer. My room was beyond beauty. It had all the nicest furnishings and was really just a portal to my own personal mansion beyond. But the dresser looked just like my moms growing up. I recognized it as soon as I saw it. I was drawn to it. It was in perfect condition, not the make-do piece from the thrift-store. It was the place my mom kept all the important things she needed to keep track of while she was raising me. It was the place she had designated for the safe keeping of the most valuable items so they wouldn’t be hampered with by the children too young to understand. Apparently I was finally old enough to earn my right to the drawer.

I opened the dresser and found my letter along with a little filing box that seemed to go back as far as I looked. Inside were neatly tucked away daily, monthly, and yearly installments that were bought through her sacrifice. They were bought in many different ways: my mom’s service to her family, the sacrificial moments of her life when she paid for the needs of her children instead of something she wanted (i.e. piano instead of clothes for herself), and each time my mom had taken any small effort to remember her homeless brother God had made an additional very significant installment.

I knew exactly each little thing that the money I held was to be designated to in the near and distant future. I was to pass it on. Upon touching the money my awareness was complete and my desires to fulfill the 100% correct wishes of my mom’s heart were not just perfect but I knew would be the catalyst for perfect completion. The amount of money I held in my hand was impossible, yet there I was holding it, an infinite amount of impossible that measured a living legacy that was always misunderstood by me. I cried out in shame and sorrow. I didn’t need the money or the mansion. All I wanted to do was thank my mother. At that moment my dad appeared in the room. I thought I was seeing things yet he was there. I embraced him with tears running down my face. I didn’t need to express my feelings of gratitude or sorrow or shame as he just knew. He loved me all the same. He wasn’t hurt. He understood. He just said, “She never wanted you to know.”

We experienced all together other profound experiences and findings (we each had an invitation to witness each others) that represented the goodness, foresight, selflessness, love, compassion, organization, and amazing capacities of both my mom and dad. The capacities were way more than we ever witnessed in real-life. My parents seemed perfect. They had provided us with everything we needed and even more. My mom was able to show us (as my dad did for me first) of the many ways my dad had sacrificed and contributed for each of us.

They had both left us with an amazing capacity and the means to care for so many others. It wouldn’t have been half as significant if they hadn’t have both had the same desire. One envelope my dad instructed me to take at that very moment and give to two small girls (they seemed to be my grandchildren) nearby. My brother Adam discovered a check that he had overlooked originally. It was made out as STAMPS and was what my parents had left for him for food so he wouldn’t have had to sell the horses. We all knew he could use the check to buy back the horses and completely restore the legacy of my parents. It was never too late. Time didn’t exist and neither did the mistakes that we measured by time.

I cannot remember any more of the details. I believe I’ve written down the most significant. This may sound totally crazy to you, yet I know it is not. I know I have had the most amazing journey into God’s insight. I am richly blessed. I need to appreciate and love my parents now so that I will not have shame later. I also need to know that LG and I love each other and our kids and no matter how frustrated we may get with our situation, we are stockpiling indescribable blessings for our children and beyond.