Going Home

Home has such a depth of meaning for most people. Its not where you live, but where you are. It is where you lay your head at night, and where you surround yourself with family or loved ones. At different points in our lives home may be a childhood bedroom with a twin bed, a dorm room with stacks of books, a small apartment which used to be a garage.

There are a multitude of images which the word home evokes for each individual. A quick Google search of the term, "Going Home," just spit out 339 million results. There are songs, poems, pictures. All about going home.

I chose to go home this Christmas, taking my daughter and my 2 dogs. To my childhood home, where my parents still live. It was an event preceded with much trepidation and anxiety. Our family was coming together, in its tiny entirety, for the first time in 5 years. It was a wonderful time. A true blessing. But I think we all know it could have gone either way- good or bad. We were blessed. The visit was beyond lovely. The whole time I was home, I kept hearing the Jenny Bruce song, Home,
in my head:

Mirror of life
Pillar of light
Blood of my heart
oceans of fate,
rolling and deep
could not keep us apart

I know they say you can't never go home again.
But all the world be calm
Going home...
you will walk into the light
there's fire burning warm and bright
open up the door to a room where they're waiting for you
and you feel so at ease you will know you're at home

all that I am
fruit of the tree
falling from grace
you are the sun, moon and the stars
no one can ever take your place

I know they say you can't never go home again
But all the world be calm
Going home...
you will walk into the light
there's fire burning warm and bright
open up the door to a room where they're waiting for you
and you feel so at ease you will know you're at home

Inside, faith is gonna find you
somewhere no one knows the word goodbye.


At 2 a.m., one blustery and dark morning, I took dog out. There I stood on my parents lawn, in the still black of the night, in my bare feet and pajamas. That song was running through my head, as were a multitude of other thoughts. Thoughts about the whys, the hows, the what comes next for me....and I looked up.

There in the still sky, shining as if just for me, was Orion's Belt. I was a kid who liked to think a lot, and always looked to the heavens. Orion's Belt was what I would look at every night before coming in, and again every morning before heading off to early morning seminary. After nearly 20 years of creating my own home where ever I am, I looked to the skies and saw a constant.

Like the hand of an angel, those stars instantly calmed my soul. Yes, came the answer. You can always go home. Faith will always find me, and home will always be where no one knows the word goodbye.

A Piece of Cake

My daughter requested a German Chocolate Cake for her birthday this year. Being handy in the kitchen (not bragging), I obliged. And in the process of making that confounded cake, I experienced an epiphany.

In preparation for making this cake, I did my homework. Since baking is not my forte, I researched everything from the etymology of German Chocolate Cake, to recipes, to people's reactions to said recipes. I carefully selected the best and began my prep work. I pulled out all the stops- we're talking cake flour, sifting, chocolate squares, whipping egg whites. Everything. The actual cake batter took me nearly an hour to complete. I was happy as a lark when I gently placed the cake pans in the oven, timer set.

When the cake was finally baked, I knew, right away, there was going to be trouble. The cake had not risen as much as it should have, and upon quick inspection, I noted the cake was FIRMLY stuck in the pans. How could this be?? I coated & floured the pans and followed every instruction to the letter. I hopped on line, furiously googling, "How To Get A Cake Un-Stuck From A Pan." No success with suggested methodologies. Finally, I caved. I knew there was only one way that cake was coming out of the pan: by brute force. And it wouldn't be pretty.

Using a rubber scraper, I scraped both pans out onto the counter. It was the saddest site I think I've seen (kitchen-wise). I picked up a piece of the cake and tasted: it was heavenly. I just stood there shaking my head. I re-read the recipe. I had done everything as explained. UGH!!! The birthday cake was dead.

I sucked up my pride, tossed the awesome tasting but now-just-a-pile-of-crumb cake out. I headed to the pantry, fingers crossed. Sure enough, there was a German Chocolate Cake mix on a shelf. With some doctoring, I had the new cake into the oven in about 4 minutes. I've still got home made frosting, and it will taste just fine. Plus, I'm not sure my kid's 12-year-old palate is sophisticated enough to even spot the difference.

Moral of the story: Sometimes we do things right, like we should. We labor, we are obedient, we take the time, we follow the instructions. But that alone does not guarantee success. Sometimes, we still take a few stripes, waste some valuable resources in attempts to do good. Our efforts are met with opposition and even failure. The trick is to not just throw in the proverbial towel and walk away. The trick is to have a back-up plan and the tenacity to use it. Even if we fail the first time around, all is not lost. We have gained valuable experience (for example, I learned that Wilton makes a substance that guarantees the release of cakes from pans). We have gained wisdom, patience. But that is not all. We need to take the next step: Be willing to try again. If we stop at each failure, how will we ever progress? Whether it is our culinary skills, our personal belief system, or our very own salvation, we must have the ferocity, humility and character to persist.

So yeah, I made a cake mix for Chloe's birthday. Because, this girl will have her cake, and eat it too.

Thanks A Lot

I have so very much to be grateful for. I could make a list as tall as my house of great gifts bestowed upon me. My niece, my family, my friends would all be on it. But I will let the poet Folliott S. Pierpoint speak for me in his poem-turned-hymn, "For The Beauty of The Earth." I have long loved this hymn. I have found comfort in it year round and find it especially meaningful this time of year. Enjoy the message and may your day be full of Thanks. I am grateful for you and your roll in my life. Happy Thanks Giving to you and yours.

For the beauty of the earth

For the glory of the skies,

For the love which from our birth

Over and around us lies:

For the beauty of each hour

Of the day and of the night,

Hill and vale and tree and flow'r

Sun and Moon and stars of light

         For the joy of human love,
         Brother, sister, parent, child.
         Friends on earth and friends above
         For all gentle thoughts and mild. 
 
         For each perfect gift of Thine
         To our race so freely given.
         Graces human and divine
         Flow'rs of earth and buds of heav'n.

Lord of all, to Thee we raise

this our joyful hymn of praise.

WIsdom From The Shire

If you know me, you know my dog, a Shih Tzu, is named Mr. Frodo. Its no accident. Firstly, I am a nerd. I have always loved the stories of Tolkien. When I adopted my dog, he went by another name. He was a scruffy, 1-year old with a serious case of snaggle tooth and no sense of home. But he had the biggest, most loving eyes I had ever seen in an animal. And I wanted him to be a little companion to me. I was single, over the age of 30, and just lonely. I named my furry-footed companion Mr. Frodo after one of the most loyal, trusted characters in modern literature. Over six years later, the beloved  pooch has proven worthy of his name. In some of my darkest times, Mr. Frodo has, literally, been by my side. He's adjusted to the many changes of life, including the arrival of my niece and noweven has a canine companion of his own (Starbuck the cross-eyed mini-Poodle/Japanese Chin).

Mr. Frodo, my Mr. Frodo, has kept me going through thick and thin. Sounds silly, you know- because he's a dog and all. But it's true. And so I come to a quote provided by Samwise Gamgee, the loyal sidekick of Mr. Frodo Baggins. Its given me a little perspective lately and helped me to keep my chin up. Three cheers for good friends...and wise & loyal Hobbits!

I Can't Run But...

I am a notorious dreamer. Literally. I have been ever since I can remember (age 5-ish). Dreams are the way my crazy thoughts, often kept to myself, come bubbling up to the surface. They are also a way for the world and for God to communicate to me. Its just as much as part of who I am as my eye color or my hirsuteness.

Lately, I've been dreaming A LOT. Like crazy dreaming. Some dreams mean nothing. For example, the other night I dreamed I was lecturing a doctor from Grey's Anatomy on his love life, while using the example of the family trials from Wizards of Waverly Place. Not much meaning there...just a dichotomy of what's on the telly.

But for the first time since my childhood, I have been experiencing re-occurring dreams. Weird, right? Probably not. I know its my brain telling me to fix things. Ugh. Who likes to fix things? I'll share with you one of the dreams that pops up like an email reminder.

I decide to go jogging. I get dressed up and ready to go. I head to a destination where I'm going to run- sometimes my neighborhood, a local park, or even down in Moab. By the time I get to the actual place where I'm going to jog, there is someone there to go along with me. I don't recognize this person (ie: they are not some one from my waking life), but I know they are a friend.

We start off walking to get our heart rates up, and then hit a very slow jog. Side note: I really hate jogging in real life. I will walk anywhere, but unless I'm running in a game or away from something scary, I'm not running. In my dream, I am making a HUGE effort to jog. But I'm not traveling any distance. It is as if my legs are stuck in translucent quick sand. They are moving slowly, painfully, but I'm simply unable to move forward. Sometimes I'm stuck in a cross walk and motorists honk their horns and yell scornfully.

Even more strangely, I start to apologize to my running partner and anyone who will listen. "I am so very sorry. I really can run, I just don't know what's happening right now. I feel like such a failure, I'm so sorry." The struggle continues on with me stuck in a bizarre stasis until I wake.

This is the story of my life right now. I'm in a situation where my career is in a giant hole. I know I need to get out of the hole (read: get a new job), but the harder I try, the less I seem to be able to do. I know I have people cheering me on in life, but I am that motorist. I am ever so frustrated with my own lack of movement. I call myself a failure nearly every day. I want to be jogging, but not for lack of desire, I'm simply kind of stuck right now.

To put all of this into perspective, life is OK. I'm alive. I have a beautiful, healthy and intelligent daughter. I have a lovely roof over my head, 2 little furry friends I call companions (not Hobbits- the dogs). I have family and friends who love and pray for me. I sincerely try to focus on the good. Blah, blah. I am just freaking annoyed with my current situation. To quote Paul Simon, "I can't run, but I can walk much faster than this."

Did Someone Hit the Repeat Button?

Life is an adventure. As a single, LDS woman raising a now 11 year old girl, some days are better than others. I joke that many days are like the movie, "Ground Hog's Day", where the hero of the film finds himself in a bit of a time warp, forced the live the same day over and over again (Ground Hog's Day, to be exact). In the movie, this character knows what's going to happen because, well...he's already lived it an infinite number of times. Some days, he is just desperate/apathetic/hopeless to move on to the next day which will never come. On other days, he does his all to make the best of specific circumstances. He tries to help out those in need and set right little wrongs along the way.

Ever experience De'ja vu?

Parenthood is just like Ground Hog's Day (the movie, not the national holiday). Moms (and dads) wake up every morning to assorted children. How they came into our homes does not matter. Adopted kids, foster children, birth children, nieces or nephews...they are our lives. And when they caw (or cry or jump) in the morning, we are suddenly at their beck and call.

I sat down recently to assess our little family dynamic with my niece- whom I call my daughter. Truthfully, we've been in a precarious state of late. She's sorting out the type of things pre-teens often do; kicking up a little bit of attitude and rebellion in the process. On the other hand, she's doing SO much better at school. We've gone from failing to A's & B's. Overall, I'd call our situation a "mixed bag".

But when people ask me, "How are things going?" I nod and smile and say, "Kind of like Ground Hog's Day." Then explain: Each day is new, and with it brings new homework and new micro-challenges, clean clothes and different menu options. But essentially, we just repeat the same days over and over again, until we learn whatever lesson God has planned for us, and then we move on to the next.

With enough nurturing on our part, LOADS of patience, and many hours spent on knees praying, we make it past that singular, repeating day. And our children are grown, entities unto themselves. We will then be parents of adult children (freaked out yet?).

I don't know what I'll do when that day gets here for me. Let me be clear: I relish, love, memorize each moment, every day and keep a mental scrap book of the ephemeral snuggles, giggles and high-fives. But until that day, I'll be parenting in Rinse & Repeat mode. I will continue to make little (and maybe big) changes & advances daily, but I do so with a life-time commitment to stick to it and do my very best. I'm pretty sure we'll survive the process no less for the wear, and perhaps just a bit wiser than we began. :)

Take Courage!