Thoughts On Change

There is a three word saying I’m sure you’ve all heard. 

CHANGE IS INEVITABLE.

In life, we seem to approach some changes with excitement and anticipation - the start of a new school year, the arrival of a perfect brand new grandbaby, the beginning of a new family when a couple gets married, the return of a missionary who has been gone for two whole years. And yet, other changes are met with dread, sadness and even fear - like the devastating loss of a family member, or the world shutting down due to a pandemic, or an unfavorable medical diagnosis, or the sudden end of a friendship, or a family member leaving the church, or a ward splitting, or even a beloved bishop being released (which happened to be my husband yesterday).

These are all changes that I have personally experienced in the last five years. Maybe you have experienced some of these changes too. I’ve learned that it’s really true: Change is inevitable. And sometimes change is just really, really HARD.

In the hymn Abide With Me, there is a line describing the Savior I love that says: “Oh Thou who changest not, abide with me.” 

Jesus Christ is unchanging in His love for us, in His ability to heal us, and in His role as our Savior and Redeemer. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever. Sometimes, especially when I’m going through a difficult change, I find it ironic that the one who changeth not, consistently asks me to do the changing. 

The author CS Lewis compared each of us to a living house that God is trying to rebuild. At first he makes repairs we know we need, like fixing a leaky roof. But then he starts knocking the house around in confusing and sometimes uncomfortable ways. “The explanation,” he wrote, “is that he is building quite a different house from the one you thought of - you thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage, But he is building a palace and He intends to come live in it himself.”

It has taken me a majority of my adult life to finally understand that our Father in Heaven and Savior know the beginning from the end and that the changes that occur in my life are A) meant  for my good, B) a sign of progress and C) helping me become more like Jesus Christ. 

Our son Soren, who is serving in Japan, recently shared a quote with us that his mission president uses often: “There is no growth in the comfort zone, and there is no comfort in the growth zone.” Boy, did that resonate with me. I often want things to stay exactly as they are because it is nice, and easy, and comfortable. But I know I’m not being stretched when that is the case and in fact, my progress has in a way halted. It’s when I’m willing or sometimes even forced to change that I rely more on the Savior and see myself BECOMING what he wants me to be, even if it is uncomfortable for a time.

It has been my experience that our unchanging Savior is willing and able to walk with us and even carry us through every change we experience in this life. I know that He is there in the stretching and growing and hard. I know that change, even when hard, can be for my good. 

I’m going to make a concerted effort going forward to lean into the changes I am experiencing in my life, good or hard, and find the Savior there in those moments. I know he is there. Because change is inevitable, but so his His help.

Literal and Figurative Face Punch

Have you ever punched someone in the face? 

I have not. 

When I was in Eighth Grade I did slap a boy hard on the face. He did something so infuriating and mean that before I knew it my hand was in the air and had made contact with his cheek, leaving a red handprint for about an hour afterwards.

Interestingly enough, I found no satisfaction in doing it. In fact, I quickly felt awful and very, very sorry. What he'd done did not deserve a slap in the face. I didn't think through the repercussions of my hasty action. I became that girl that slapped so-and-so, while what he'd done was quickly forgiven and forgotten.

This week one of my offspring punched someone in the face. Disclaimer: it was sort of an accident, but it happened nevertheless. The recipient happened to be a best friend. And she was stunned. Just like the boy I slapped thirty-five years ago, this current bestie was left speechless and deeply hurt, both physically and emotionally. Apologies were made. The friendship will go on. But now my child is the kid who punched so-and-so.

I had something happen to me this summer that was, in essence, an emotional face punch. Someone close to me, whom I trusted, told me something that made me feel like I'd been slapped or punched in the face. I was so stunned and and completely hurt. For an entire month I could feel the print left on my 'emotional face'. 

It has made me think very deeply about the way I treat other people - how I speak to them, what I share with them, how I might come across to them. I am trying to move past the place of victim crying, "I didn't deserve that hit" and into a place of, "Yes, I got hit, but the hurt is fading, and I'm okay." It isn't easy. It makes me grateful for a best friend who still on good terms with my child and a boy years ago, who forgave me for making a rash decision. I too, will be able to move forward from this figurative face punch with time.

As a side note, a spider decided to take a shower with me last week, and I felt absolutely no guilt as I placed my hand on the outside of the shower and used my other hand to punch him squarely in the face with all my might, killing him instantly. That is the only kind of face punch that should be allowed.

Shocked

On a video call with our son Soren, who is serving a full-time mission for our church in Japan, he confessed to me, "Mom, I found your blog and have been reading it out here in the mission field. It's AWESOME! You are an amazing writer, and you're so funny. I love it and feel like I'm reliving my childhood by reading it."

I was shocked.

Didn't I print the blog I wrote for seven straight years into books for my kids to just so they could read and remember? Hadn't I seen them all, including Soren, turning the pages of those books? Well, it turns out he, in particular, would just look at the pictures and pass right by the words.

It has been a hot second since I've even given thought to my blog. Blogs are completely dead, right? Even the authors of these prehistoric means of communicating to the masses don't look at their own past writings. I am no different. But something about hearing about MY blog through the words of MY son made me take a second look at what I'd written all those years ago when I was in the throes of motherhood and life.

And again, I was shocked.

I used to have words flow freely and beautifully from my mind to my keyboard. I used to chronicle some really hard parts of my life. I used to write about important turning points for myself and my children. I used to communicate with you - the readers of that silly little blog about nothing - and we heard each other, mourned with each other, lifted each other, and cheered one another along.

That time in my life when I actively wrote about daily musings and happenings is now a record of my life. I have reread multiple posts in the past two weeks and said aloud to Travis, "I completely forgot this even happened. I am so glad I wrote about it."

I keep having a nagging feeling. A feeling that I need to try writing again. A conversation with a dear friend who is STILL blogging after all these years gave me the final push to sit down today and pen my thoughts. So I am returning to this space after almost nine years of absence. And I am rusty. But that's okay. I don't know if anyone but me will see this. That is also okay.  I am not the same person I was nine years ago who needed affirmation that others were hearing what I had to say.  I plan to use this space to write about my life, my thoughts, my joys, and my sorrows.  If you find me here, welcome. If you're a past reader, welcome back! And if you've fallen off your chair because this Dragonfly is flying again, so sorry.

Try not to be shocked. :)

A Moment ...

I blinked and the Christmas holiday and Winter Break were gone. My never ending and seemingly never met goal is to create lasting and special memories and traditions that my kids will love and draw upon during their lives. It’s ambitious and I feel like a failure much of the time, but I can say we spent nice time together over the break and everyone was happy on Christmas morning. I was tired. Tired, but happy also.

I did manage to capture one sweet moment between Owlie and his Daddy during the break. The big kids were at church activities and Ollie was rushing around the house in a crazed frenzy as he is known to do in the near-bedtime-hours.

I suggested to the Hubby that he grab The Friend magazine (a children’s magazine our church puts out) and sit down with Ollie to read for a little bit. Out of all our kids, Ollie is by far the most fascinated with Jesus, his birth and celebrating them at Christmastime.

As they read story after story, Ollie sat quietly for a long time. That is a BIG DEAL for him. The two of them basked in the glow of the tree, snuggled up together and I grabbed my camera so I could always remember their heads poking up above the couch like so.

Ollie loved a story about “Finding Jesus” where a parent would hide a Baby Jesus figure from the family nativity set and the children would take turns finding it. We got our Baby Jesus and he hid it first while the Hubby and I closed our eyes. Then we hid it and he found it. He could have played hide and seek with Baby Jesus all night long. The idea, of course, was that we all need to take time to look for Jesus at Christmastime.


I love this moment. I’m glad I was there. And I’m glad Ollie loves the Baby Jesus and his Daddy so much.

A Scare ...

This boy though. The one we call RedDog. Do you see it? RedDog is sweet, spiritual, sensitive, mischievous, smart and funny. He is a crucial part of our family, balancing out quite a few strong, stubborn personalities with his calm nature. And last week he gave us a scare.

I got a call from the school nurse telling me Soren had passed out in the cafeteria during lunch. I rushed to the school, where he was in the nurse’s office with low blood pressure. He and I spent the rest of the afternoon at the doctor having multiple tests run.

I can’t begin to tell you all the thoughts that went through my head while I was driving to get him. Mostly a lot of praying and asking God to please not let anything be wrong with my boy. There were also some tears as I imagined him in pain or being scared in any way. Oh, how these Momma emotions get me!

He had blood drawn for the first time. I could tell he was nervous, so I stood right next to him and talked to him while it was happening. He did great.

He also had an EKG done. We took this picture to send to Ollie so he could see that Soren is being turned into a robot. I loved that he thought of his little brother when all I could do is think of him.

All of his tests turned out completely normal. His blood pressure, which was read several times during the visit, was also normal. We don’t know why he fainted. But I am so glad he is okay.


I love Soren. He is so special to me. Even though this was a tough day, I’m glad we got to spend it together.

I Swear I Don’t Make This Stuff Up …

This post is going to be all about my last born child. He is cracking us up on a daily basis. It is important that we record his antics for his future children.

I took this picture last week while he was doing his most loathed chore: putting the silverware away. He’s so good at it, though, and I hate doing it even more than him, so it will be his job until I say otherwise. His hair is its own entity. We call it “The Wave” and he loves it. He won’t leave for school unless I’ve sprayed and gelled it up. It makes him extra spunky and cute.

Four Owlie stories need recording currently. Please bear with me.

1. Ollie lost a beloved Winter hat at school yesterday. When I asked him about it this morning, he told me he left it in the bathroom. I questioned the validity of that statement, wondering why on earth he’d have his hat in the bathroom. He very sternly reminded me, “Because that is the first place we go when we get off the bus, Mom! To wash our hands – you know – so we don’t spread germs!” Then he put his hands on his hips and gave me this look of sympathy/exasperation and muttered under his breath, “I think you need to go back to Kindergarten.” I laughed hard.

2. Ollie got some new shoes and sweatpants recently. The shoes are black canvas high tops. They’re hip. The sweats have a modern cut to them – tapered at the ankle (skinny sweats?) but baggier at the top. He wore the shoes and sweats to school before Thanksgiving with a shirt that said “EPIC” on it. His teacher texted me later that day and told me to ask Ollie if he’d learned a new dance at school. So I did. He then proceeded to bust out a perfect MC Hammer dance. It seems his teacher and teaching assistant are children of the 90’s, like me, and the minute they saw his pants and high tops they couldn’t help but think “Stop! Hammertime.” Ollie is a good sport who just happens to love to dance. Cracked me up!

3. I got another text from Ollie’s teacher this week. She wanted to know if I’d sent Ollie to school with money to give his friends. I quickly replied with a big HECK, NO!!! But then I remembered he’d earned $2 from doing some yard work for my mom over the weekend, so I mentioned this to the teacher. She then asked, “Are you sure he didn’t earn $40, because that’s what he’s trying to give his friend, Angelica.” Holy Cow! My six year old is trying to win girls over with cold hard cash! The money came home in an envelope and Ollie is forbidden from taking money to school from now on.

4. Ollie has had a pretty bad sinus infection for the last almost month. Lots of coughing, antibiotics and nose blowing going on around these parts. His teacher called me last week and I was immediately nervous when I saw her name on the caller ID. Turns out she was calling to see if she could text me a video of Ollie she’d taken at school that day. But first she had to give me the background behind the video. Apparently Ollie had been telling her ALL about his mucus for two weeks straight. He’d interrupt her lessons to go spit in the sink, after which she’d shout across the room: “RINSE IT! WASH UP!”. He affectionately referred to it as his “mucus situation”. Cue the video, which was taken after a round of Z-Pack antibiotics finally started drying him up. She caught him with his finger so far up his nose he was practically touching his brain! When she asked him what was going on, she got him on video telling her “My boogers have turned to rocks! They are hard and stuck up in there. So I have to work to get them out.”

I swear, I don’t make any of this stuff up. He is a keeper, that little Owl of mine!

The Test . . .

The Hubby and I made a conscious decision at the beginning of this school year that it was time. We were ready for Chris, who is a Senior, to really take charge of his life, his decisions and the consequences of his choices. We felt like we’d done 98% of the teaching we were meant to do, and now it was time to stand aside and let him put the teachings, advice, morals and principles we’d given him to the test.

Disclaimer: As a Type A, control freak, perfectionist type, this was not an easy thing for me to do. I wanted to hold his hand forever and tell my little white haired baby boy it would all be okay. Then I wanted to climb into his bed and snuggle him to sleep. Which would totally creep him out.

We assured him he could do it. And we let him know we’d be right here to advise if he needed us for anything. Then we held our breath and let him go to it.

At the beginning of the school year, the principal asked Chris and three of his close friends to lead the Raider Riot. It is the student cheering section at all sporting events and it is CRAZY. Chris and Co. are in charge of  maintaining enthusiasm and school spirit during games (despite losing). The leaders are extremely good at their jobs – dressing in crazy costumes, yelling their hearts out, tweeting an texting details for all games like what to wear and where to be. Chris takes the position seriously. The level at which The Riot excels is a huge matter of pride for the Senior class.

Two incidents have occurred while Chris has been a Riot leader so far this year that have tested him in big ways. We have watched as he navigated through them, making difficult but mature decisions. We have advised a little. We have mostly stood by in awe A LOT.

Early in the year a large, very expensive flag embroidered with the school name and emblem was stolen by a student from an opposing school while at an away game. Chris was responsible for the flag at the time it was taken. After looking frantically for the flag, he let athletic directors from both schools know it was missing, informed police who were at the game, and let his “inner circle” know what had happened so they could put the word out.

The unintelligent teenager who stole the flag posted a picture of it in his possession on social media. Within minutes of the tweet, Chris knew where the flag was. Despite wanting to go get the flag himself, Chris turned what evidence he had over to adults and let them handle the situation. And we breathed a sigh of relief.

Three weeks ago, his school played cross town rivals and won in a huge upset in the last seconds of the game. But it was what happened during the game that was a bigger deal to us. Two students from our school, in a show of very poor judgment, decided to bring a marijuana bong into the Raider Riot, pass it  around to multiple students and smoke it during the game. One of Chris’ cohorts reported it to the principal who was in attendance at the game.

The principle pulled all four of the Riot leaders aside and confronted them about the alleged drug use. She asked them point blank, “Is this true?”. They replied that it was. She then asked them, “Will you tell me who it is?”. Stop and think about what this question means to a teenager. She was basically asking them to snitch, tell on, rat out, and give up fellow students. They knew it would not go over well with the student population. They knew they were risking social ostracism. They knew what they had to do.  And they gave her the names. The students were removed by authorities immediately in accordance with the School District’s zero tolerance drug policy.

Within an hour of arriving home, Chris found that Twitter was alight with messages of hatred, anger and vitriol towards him and the other Riot leaders. Horrible things were said about my son, his friends, their religions, their character. It was bad. I have since decided that Twitter is a place where people hide behind anonymity and say the stupidest things they would never utter in real life. But I digress. Instead of engaging in the lunacy, Chris made a simple blanket statement. He told the Twitterverse (or whatever it’s called) that the Riot leaders had to make a decision that night. And they decided that marijuana smoking at football games is not who they are. It’s not who County Raiders are. It’s not how they want to be seen by other schools. To those who thought it wasn’t his business, he reminded that the Raider Riot is HIS BUSINESS. And if anyone was struggling with the decision made by the Riot Leaders, he offered that they come find him personally, listen rationally to what actually occurred and then make a decision about the situation. He told them to leave the other three Riot Leaders out of it. He would bear the responsibility for the choice.

To be clear, the Riot leaders made the RIGHT choice. And they were being persecuted for turning in students who made the choice to smoke illegal drugs at a school sponsored event where uniformed police officers and multiple school administrators were present. Um, yeah.

The frenzy died down after about a week, but multiple students we pulled into the office of the administration and warned to back off the social media bashing. A week after this happened The Hubby and I approached the principal after a volleyball game to say hello. Her words were all I needed to hear. “What a remarkable young man you son is,” she said. “We need more kids like Chris who are willing to make the hard choices when it counts the most. I am lucky to have him at my school.”

And so, the picture with this post is symbolic. The Hubby and I are actually standing next to Chris in the photo. You can see our shoulders touching his. We are here for him. But he is standing alone at the same time. He is making choices that count. And he is standing tall.

I truly couldn’t be more proud to call him my son.