Three.

We celebrated with a quiet night at home. Stella in bed, candles and lights, fondue, good conversation. 

Three years ago today it was a Saturday. A sunny day after a week of snow and the streets were wet and the sidewalks had dirty little puddles. You came and picked me up in the morning and we were jittery and anxious and sleep-deprived. We walked hand-in-hand through those temple doors with such resolve, such assurance, hope overflowing.


Hope that we would have enough money to survive. Hope that we were making the right decision. Hope that we would still love each other in fifty years time.


Today our marriage is a three year old. Old enough to talk, but still finding its voice. Still sweet and innocent and playful and curious. Just starting to make sense of the world and our part in it.


Life is beginning to slide into a comfortable groove. The dust is settling. Our roles are feeling broken-in. And although some days are hard and some arguments are seemingly endless - nothing has ever felt so right.

Digging Wells

I fear we may have a little Freud on our hands. Lately she's been known to take your hand, lead you to the nearest couch and squeak out these words: "Sit down. Let's talk."


SAY WHAT? 


The first time this happened I laughed and cried simultaneously because that is hilarious coming from someone two feet tall and WHERE HAS THE TIME GONE? Independent thoughts? A sense of humor? I can't believe this is happening already.


So when she pooped the other day and said to me, "Oh my gosh, it stinks." I thought maybe it's time to potty train? This will be the final straw. Potty trained and in a regular bed and she'll be an official person living in this house, no longer a baby.


It has been such a blur. I'm proud of myself for making it this far. I'll be the first to admit, I'm not one to stick with things and see them through. I'm not sure what I expected myself to do - kill over, maybe? But I haven't! I've woken up every single day for the past 21 months and kissed that little girl and changed her diapers and kept her fed, happy, healthy and learning! Miraculous!


It's like marriage for me. I just jumped into something that's so permanent. Something I've been historically bad about persevering through (relationships) and that permanence of a covenant has done it for me. Tipped the scales and allowed my heart to fully commit to one thing. To one person. It's like I'm digging a well in this one spot and if I hit solid rock, I'm busting out my jack hammer and I'll keep digging and digging till I hit water. Because really, what good does it do to make shallow holes all over the place? And really, there is solid rock in every hole you try to dig. You just have to commit, remove the option of quitting from your mind and suddenly you're not a quitter!


That was profound, you guys. I'm copyrighting that.

To Nathan, the Prophet

So, Nathan and I were cast as Joseph and Emma Smith for Youth Conference last weekend. He looked A-MAZING. I looked like a pioneer version of Cher crossed with a Hasidic Jew. Nevertheless, it was a really wonderful experience.


Dear Nathan,


You were a highly believable and very compelling Joseph. Unexpectedly compelling. 


I happened upon you teaching a workshop to a gaggle of teenagers in the morning. You were all kneeling in a circle with Joseph at the helm, and you were glowing. And the kids were listening to you with such intensity as you testified about your experience in the sacred grove, and even at a distance, barely hearing your words, the Spirit hit me like a truck full of bricks, ran me clean over. I picked myself up and blinked hard. I couldn't tell if it was really you or an apparition of Joseph Smith himself come down to testify.


I came and joined the circle after a while and you asked if I had anything to add. Words started pouring from my mouth that I hadn't plan to say. I hadn't planned to say anything. The words were these:


Joseph Smith had no money, no education, no great ambition to become someone of note, and yet he changed the course of the world. All he had to offer is what we all have to offer - an obedient heart, a desire to know what is true, and faith that God exists and that He hears and answers our prayers. Those offerings are more powerful and impactful on society than any amount of money, education or talent. I needed to hear that.


As the day progressed you were arrested by anti-Mormon mobsters on horseback. Snatched right out of the lunch pavilion, still chewing your sandwich. I jumped up and watched them drag you out. I was filled with a fraction of the emotion that the real Emma must have felt as she watched her husband being carried off to Liberty Jail.


By night-time Kirtland had been burnt to the ground and you led the whole group of us a mile down a torch-lit path through the woods to Illinois, which was a big outdoor amphitheater. As we filed in "Nearer My God to Thee" was played on the violin and a reverent silence had come over everyone. We watched you pace the stage and give your final instructions to the Saints - you knew your martyrdom was fast approaching. As you willingly marched off to Carthage I was moved to tears. Not only because they were taking you, but because in that moment I knew again that these were REAL people, REAL experiences. Joseph REALLY was a prophet led by God to restore His church. He was persecuted and hounded and eventually killed by men working for the devil himself.


I can't tell you how I felt, walking along beside you that night, along that rutted road after it was all over. What a sweet strength I felt, in you, in myself, and all around us. It was like one of those dreams where you're filled with some extravagant feeling you might never have in life.

On Ignorance and Bliss.

I was browsing through iPhoto archives, as I do on occasion when I'm feeling particularly vain and wanting to see photos of myself, and a thought came to me. Came like a gust 'o wind as I was examining my backside in an old photo thinking, "GAH! I KNEW those jeans were a bad idea." And the wind whispered,

ignorance is bliss.


And again when I spotted cotton-y white roots peeking through my dyed brown hair and thought, "did Nathan seriously let me go out in public looking like this?!" .... the thought,


ignorance is bliss.


And when I reached the newborn Stella photos and seeing them objectively realized that she looked like a frail old man with yellowing eyes and a pimply nose. The thought,


ignorance is bliss.


Okay, maybe not bliss, but certainly less painful than reality at times. 


This world we live in - what with its digital photos and videos with instant playback and the internet which allows us to learn what outfit our stylish friend in Australia is donning today makes it REALLY hard to stay ignorant in terms of self image.


The dressing room at Target, for example. Gets me every time. I walk in, catch a glimpse of myself from 4 different angles and think FAT.THIGHS.SHIRT.LOOKS.TERRIBLE.WITH.THOSE.PANTS.DO.SOMETHING.WITH.THAT.HAIR.


Ignorance. Bliss. Bliss when there were no mirrors and people loved each other ugly and un-plucked and all. Bliss when you had no idea what people saw when they looked at your backside. Bliss when memories past were only documented, filed and stored from the perspective of our own eyeballs.


I'm putting down the camera and getting back to that.

A Premature Goodbye

Grammie in 1948 - her 28th year.

Tonight I felt that feeling for the first time in a long time. I was talking to Grammie on the phone. She isn't sounding so good these days. Her voice was shakey and she rambled off a story, sounding anxious, almost frantic. Something about high blood pressure and Xanax and not getting her teeth cleaned at the dentist.


It started in my heart, like someone pulled the drain plug and all of my raw emotion came gushing out in three seconds flat. Once the dust settled I was left with a cold, aching hole in my chest. I sat there in silence listening to her mousey little voice and wishing I could bottle it up and save it forever. I can't imagine not being able to call her up and hear that tiny little voice tell me about the latest neighborhood gossip and which NBA players are on her bad list for having illegitimate children and not paying child support. I can't imagine going to her house and her not being there, asleep in her chair in the back room with soap operas on full blast and her decrepit old yorkie greeting us at the door with a hacking cough. I will miss our accupuncture dates laying face down with needles in our butt and laughing till we cried because we could never remember the name of the chinese lady and she always thought it was "Chewey".


That sickening realization that something beautiful may soon be coming to an end. 


I swear it was last week I was four years old playing with the hose in her front yard and watching Nick Jr. with Tanner in diapers. Now we sit on lawn chairs in her driveway and watch my daughter chase squirrels across her lawn and pick the leaves off of her azaleas. And in a blink I will be ninety-two looking back over my life, all of the beautiful moments and the painful ones too, like this one. I'll remember how I felt today. The feeling that life is wonderfully perplexing and that time is so fleeting. I want to inhale every second of it.




(I'm happy to report that what I thought was her imminent death turned out to be a simple change in blood pressure medicine. Grammie is alive and well and we're expecting her around for another 92 years.)

Fasten your seatbelts...

My little brother is getting hitched.

People generally give the same reaction to the news of an upcoming wedding. "Wow! Great! Congratulations!" With big smiles and lots of enthusiasm. I'd say this is for one of three reasons:

One. They're newlyweds themselves and being married is like, so totally awesome and stuff and they just want to share the love! And aww, isn't that sweet?

Two. Behind that enthusiasm is evil laughter because they've been married for a while now and holy crap, this is hard. And they really want to see that lovey kissey couple with wide eyes in a few years saying crap! Those people were for real! This is hard! Because there is some kind of validation in seeing people you respect being challenged by the same things you are.

Three. That is genuine, wise, tested and true enthusiasm for the dear couple because they've been married for a LOOOONG time. Long enough to experience the hard, overcome it (really, I'm just musing here. Is that even possible?) and have learned what marital love truly is. Respect, unselfishness, unselfishness, unselfishness, unselfishness, tenderness and a good sense of humor. And it has brought them insane amounts of heart pounding, eyes welling with tears, soul warming JOY.

Tanner & Sarah, congratulations. I'm thrilled for the both of you. (cue evil laughter....)

;)

a letter to my stella girl

Sweet Stella,

At one year old you are the embodiment of all that is sweet and heart-melting and pity-evoking and delicious. You have this uncanny way with dimples and rolls that leaves all onlookers melting into a pile of goo. I mean, just yesterday I went to get you out of bed, all in a hurry, and your big bright eyes landed on me and you started bouncing and shrieking with such contagious laughter that I found myself grinning stupidly and forgetting all about the meeting we were late for!

Sometimes your dad and me, upon hearing your first squawks of the morning, will lock eyes and then race down the stairs, elbowing each other all the way to your crib to get the first slobbery kiss of the day. Delicious, I'm telling you.

And there's "the lip". It sticks way out like a pouty little saucer right before your flood gates open and you just fall to pieces. That lip and those big eyes look up at me with such vulnerability and confusion that I impulsively scoop you right up into my arms and kiss that fat roll on your neck and say, "shhhh mama's got you" until you feel safe again.

When we rock and read books at night and you sit so still on my lap and rest your blonde, curly head right on my chest and your squishy little hand on my arm, my heart just explodes right then and there. It aches with so much love and peace and nurturing that it gushes up my throat and out of my eyes and there I am weeping reading Brown Bear, Brown Bear What Do You See?

You are the most perfect little individual I could have ever dreamed up and I am absolutely enthralled to be your mama.