20 Years of Marriage

Twenty years ago today I married the man of my dreams...

I've been thinking about this day for a long time.  I wanted to write something about marriage.  I wanted to write something about our relationship.  But neither of those things have been on my mind.  Not really.

Writing is a type of therapy for me.  It's important for me to be real, to share things from the heart in an open and honest way.  Not fake.  Not showy.  Just me.  So...if I'm being honest, marriage hasn't been on my mind at all.  Our anniversary has.

Several months ago, Marcos and I were discussing this upcoming milestone in our relationship.  Twenty years is kind of a big deal.   I SUBTLY (or not so subtly) reminded him of our discussions long long ago that we would celebrate big milestones like our 10th and 20th anniversaries with grand gesture.  🎉

The 10 year anniversary was less than impressive in its celebratory glory.  I get it.  We had little kids and the reality of planning something big was overwhelming.  So...we went to dinner.  And then went for a stroll in a beautiful nature park together.  Then real life happened.  I ended up getting super sick.  I'll spare you the details.  It was NOT a pleasant evening.  Not even sort of romantic.  Or maybe it was.  But not in the candlelight dinner, "I think we're alone now" kind of way.  Marcos loved me and cared for me and laughed with me when our evening took a turn for the worst.  I likely did not appreciate that special moment at the time, but behind our less-than-ideal anniversary date was a deep emotional connection in our relationship and an ability to endure stressful life situations with humor and love.

Our conversation continued.

Me: "I know we weren't able to do anything big for our 10th anniversary and I actually LOVE the memory I have with you from that day, but I really want to do something special to celebrate our 20th anniversary this year."  

Marcos: "Me too.  What did you have in mind?"

Me: "A trip.  Somewhere tropical.  Hawaii, Bahamas, Costa Rica, Tahiti, Belize...somewhere like that.  Wouldn't that be fun?  Beach.  Adventure.  Romance.  Don't you think?"

Marcos: "No.  We can't.  We cannot afford a trip like that right now."

My heart sunk.  A combination of sadness and anger.  And a knot.  A knot in my stomach.

At that moment, the social media world backfired on all my good intentions.  I rarely find myself feeling bad about my life after being on social media.  I know that's a real thing for many people.  I've found a good balance that usually works for me.  I check in here and there, post occasionally and feel connected for the most part.  But in a situation like this, all those happy beach pictures swirled through my head, and I found myself in a loop of comparison and jealousy.  I found myself thinking I DESERVED something more.

Let's just say that this conversation between Marcos and me has been occurring and reoccurring over the past several months with little to no progress.  Argh!!!  Okay people.  This is REALITY!  This is what marriage really looks like sometimes.  I'm pretty sure most marriages have a conversation (or two) like this.  It might be how clean the house is, whether or not to remodel (or what color to paint the walls), it might be distribution of household responsibilities, how each individual spends their time (office, play time, home/family, cell phone/online) but I'm pretty sure every marriage has these annoying little things that come up now and again.  Sometimes you have A LOT  of frustrating conversations.  Sometimes fewer.  But if you're in a real relationship where one or both people haven't completely checked out emotionally, you're likely going to run into these little glitches.

I've been slightly bitter about Marcos's declaration of impossibility when I opened up to share my dream of tropical celebration with him.  "Nope!  We cannot go on a trip for our 20th anniversary."  And that was that.  Could we at least have a discussion about when we could make this a reality?  Like for real?  But I was frustrated.  So I slipped into some not-so-awesome strategies for dealing with conflict.  Avoid.  Discuss.  Cry.  Yell.  Discuss.  Caveman (aka growl/grunt in frustration as the conversation continues to go in circles).

Marcos: "Babe, I know you want to go on a trip.  We probably can one day.  But we can't this year.  We took the kids to Disneyland.  We could have planned a trip for us instead, but we didn't."  

I knew he was right.  And I knew I would make the same choice again.  Our kids had been waiting and planning and saving and earning to go to Disneyland this year.  And we made it a priority to take them.  They were at great ages for us to prioritize a trip to Disneyland and I do not regret it ONE BIT.  But to be fair, I never knew I was choosing a Disneyland trip over celebrating our anniversary.  I want both.  Yep.  That's how this whole thing went.  I sounded like a spoiled toddler.  Maybe I still do.

I wanted to throw a stick at him or stomp on his toes.  I'd slipped to the maturity level of a toddler.  At the very least I wanted to yell at him.  "You're a mean old dummy!  Why can't we go?  But my mommy said we could."  Yeah...super mature.  I kept the immaturity to myself for the most part, but if I'm being real here, I was pretty much a 2-3 year old on the inside.

{Pause}

I had a boss back in my working days who made a statement that had a profound impact on the way I see the world.

"Maria, do you know what I spend most of my time doing?"

Eager to impress, I attempted to answer with something besides, "Um, no."  I don't actually remember what I said, but it doesn't really matter what I said.  His response hit me like a ton of bricks!

"Most of my time is spent managing expectations."

Jaw drop.  We had a  more detailed conversation, but I pondered the depth and truth of those few words and have reflected on them often over the years.

Most of my time is spent managing expectations.  

Expectations from different situations: church callings, family gatherings, work, parenting, marriage, home remodeling projects, budgeting, etc.

Expectations from different people: spouse, children, boss, church leaders, extended family, friends, neighbors, strangers...

...and MY OWN EXPECTATIONS.

Here I was many years later trying to put on my grown up pants and manage my own expectations.

Expectations about what an anniversary SHOULD look like and expectations of how we NEED to celebrate.

Ugh!  😡  I hate it when Marcos is right.  And mature.

I spent some time gearing up for what I assumed would be a moment of disappointment.

And it is.  Sort of.

But I've also spent a couple days focused on the reality of what I do have instead of what I do not.

REALITY:

-Marcos and I have managed to make it through 20 years of marriage together.  There were times I didn't know if making it through another year was possible, but with blood, sweat, tears (and a whole lot of laughter), we have worked through the ups and downs of real life thus far and lived to tell the tale.

-We still enjoy each other's company.  {Pause for another story}

A few months ago, Marcos and I were talking and trying to come up with some ideas for fun affordable dates.  Marcos said his favorite date was going out to dinner.  After taunting him for awhile about being boring and predictable, I let him finish his thought.

"I love going out to dinner with you.  It's quiet without the kids.  I get to look you in the eyes and talk to you without interruptions.  I could sit there forever and completely lose track of time.  I know this sounds strange, but I can't believe that after so many years together, I still find you so interesting.  You're my favorite person to talk to.  You're always reading and learning and having experiences that you share with me and I love that.  I find you incredibly fascinating!  When we go out to dinner, it gives me a chance to see that side of you.  I can look in your eyes and get lost in conversation with you.  I never thought we would still have so much to talk about after 20 years, but we never seem to finish discussing.  I love that we are part of an eternal conversation that just pauses and then continues when we are alone again."  

😳  Um...what the heck?  😳

😍 Yeah, pretty much the best compliment EVER!  😍

-We're geekishly romantic.  To this day, Marcos makes my heart race.  Twitterpated (remember Bambie?)  I still feel that.  So does he.  I call him my boyfriend.  He loves it! (I think).  It reminds us that we are more than our family and children and home and bills and a million bajillion responsibilities.  It reminds us that long before this crazy life we created together, it was just the two of us.

-He does things he doesn't like because they matter to me.  He takes pictures of me and the kids (even though he hates taking pictures and I tease him incessantly about his lack of photography skills).  He gets dressed up in somewhat matchy clothes and tromps off to a random beautiful location in nature every once in awhile for a formal family photo (probably the most despised event on the planet for most men).  Simply because it matters to me.

-It goes both ways ya know.  My deeper love involves listening a plethora of stats and details about sports teams and players I've never heard of with as much enthusiasm and interest as I can muster.  He knows I don't love it.  He's learned to have sports conversations with Esteban (his brother) or Dylan or a close friend if he wants more than a twinkling eye and smiling face in response.  But I sit through painful sports conversations (and occasionally attend sporting events) because I love Marcos and HE loves sports.  ⚽🎾🏉🏀

-We make an incredible team.  Our skills are different enough that they play to one another's strengths.  Whether teaching a class, working on a project or just making it through the bedtime routine with the younguns, we are definitely better together. 💪

I'm sure I could go on and list a trillion other awesome reasons I am excited about today, but I will stop before this post becomes a novel. 😱

In dealing with our current glitch in "marital bliss" we put off figuring out what we could realistically expect to do to celebrate our 20th anniversary until YESTERDAY.  That's right.  I'm embarrassed to admit it, but every time we tried to discuss it, we got nowhere.  So...while we drove up to Raft River yesterday, we decided to make a plan.  We managed to make a reservation at The Anniversary Inn next week and will celebrate our anniversary a little late when we have family available to help with the kiddos over night.  As for today, we're going hiking together and then making a delicious home cooked meal while the kids eat pizza and watch a movie.  Why?  Because I love hiking and Marcos is thoughtful enough to suggest an activity I will love.  Because we are learning to be healthy together (and cooking together is actually be super fun and romantic).  And because it took us until yesterday for me to manage my own expectations about this major milestone in our lives.

From here to Argentina and back...

...till I die and forever more!

Happy 20th anniversary, Babe!! 😘

Shepherds, Memories and Kindred Spirits...

Four and a half years ago, Marcos and Dylan had an incredible experience.  They had the opportunity to participate in a version of "Savior of the World" performed in Spanish (El Salvador del Mundo).  Marcos was Pedro (Peter) and Dylan was Natan (Nathan - a shepherd boy with a huge part and several difficult solos).  I watched and supported from a distance.  I had a house full of children including a toddler.  Scratch that.  I had a wild, bouncy toddler with the enthusiasm and endurance of the Energizer bunny who could get into mischief in 1.3 seconds flat.  My oldest baby (Dylan - who was 10 1/2 at the time) would have this experience with his father and a new group of friends.  I would be a silent supporter in the background this time around. 

Marcos speaks to our children in Spanish, but usually English is the default language in our home.  The kids understand Spanish, but don't speak it fluently.  Dylan is pretty close to fluent at this point though thanks to his amazing experience of traveling to Argentina with Marcos when he was 8 years old.  He rarely shies away from a challenge and he got super brave speaking Spanish to everyone and anyone with his little kid American accent during his 3 week stay in Argentina.  And so it was that our family set off on the adventure of a lifetime.  My son, staring in a play in a language he barely knew, and my husband rocking the testimony of Pedro in a powerful and beautiful way you would have had to see to believe.  I worked with Dylan on his speaking and singing lines.  He spoke some Spanish at this point, but he certainly did not read or write it yet.  And so I taught him.  I taught him to sound out the words in Spanish and to read and memorize and speak those lines like a pro.  Dylan is a rock star and learned much more quickly than I could have ever expected!!  It was an emotional time, but one of incredible growth and beauty.  I got to see my husband and my son shine from a distance.

What I didn't put together until rehearsals and performances was the fact that although Marcos and Dylan were doing this play together, Dylan was part of Act I and Marcos was part of Act II.  Their parts did not overlap at all.  I had a friend whose husband and son were part of our stake's performance of Savior of the World years ago, but her son and husband were both shepherds and rehearsed together.  That was not the case for Marcos and Dylan.  My 10 year old was with a group of strangers learning lines in a language that was still new to him.  Just the thought of it brings tears to my eyes even now.  When I watched my boy go on stage without his father by his side, my heart sunk.  Please let him pull this off.  I know he can do it.  During one performance, Dylan tripped going up a set of stairs to his next stage position where he would deliver more lines.  He caught himself, but his leg was hurt.  He kept going like a pro.  Delivered his lines and no one was the wiser.  After the scene, he was mad at himself.  He was incredibly hard on himself backstage in between his scenes.  He was embarrassed.  He felt like a failure.  But his dad couldn't comfort him.  He was on stage by the time Dylan was off stage.  And I was in the audience with three kids and no one to watch wild Caleb.  I know my son well.  I could feel his sense of disappointment from a distance.  I prayed for him.  I cheered him on in my heart.  And I hoped he would have what he needed to pull through.  What he had was a new family.  A shepherd family.  A group of friends that had become incredibly dear to him during his months of practices and rehearsals.  They encouraged him.  They helped him make it through when he didn't want to continue.

Dylan's favorite shepherd was a guy named Jesus (pronounced Hey-Seuss in Spanish...as in Hey Dr. Seuss, but without the Dr 😉).  For whatever reason, Dylan gravitated toward Jesus and Jesus to Dylan.  They were like friends from another lifetime.  Like brothers.  I like to call this kind of friend a kindred spirit (Anne of Green Gables, ya know).  Someone you meet for the first time and feel like you have known them forever.  I've had this experience several times in my life.  Sometimes it is an individual with a similar life calling.  Other times, it is someone who will prove to be by my side during a difficult trial or life experience.  It's hard to understand why when you first meet, but whenever I find myself with a person like this coming into my life, I give thanks.  And that is what I did when Dylan met Jesus.  He was there to love him and encourage him when he got down or frustrated about his lines.  He reminded him just how amazing he was when Dylan could not see past his mistakes or slip-ups.  Jesus was a true blessing to Dylan.  He even spoiled him with a remote control car...AND a tablet.  Yes!  Jesus was definitely like the older brother Dylan never had who spoils the younger brother simply because he loves him.

Jesus is married and has two adorable little boys now.  But our paths once again crossed during Marcos's indoor soccer games the past month or so.  Jesus is often there playing or watching the mens' games.  Dylan went to watch Marcos play the past two weeks and the two of them reconnected.  It makes my heart so happy to see Dylan reconnect with a friend that meant so much to him.  It's one of those friendships where you may not be in each other's lives the same way anymore, but the friendship remains strong and forever bonded by an experience long ago.

Thank you, Jesus, for being such an amazing friend to Dylan!  Thank you for loving and supporting my boy at a time when my role was in the bleachers watching, cheering and keeping young children and a wild toddler alive.  😜 A few things have clearly changed, but Dylan's love and appreciation for his dear friend have not.  You mean the world to our entire family!  Thank you for being you!!  We love you more than you will ever know!!

My Grandpa

I was cleaning carpets when my mom called Thursday afternoon. 

Christmas morning was magical. 🎄

Then, what can only be described as a "series of unfortunate events," unfolded.  Car problems, sleepless nights, children vomiting, super sick mom (never a good thing), unidentifiable rotten smell somewhere in the house threatening to take away my sanity… 

Which brings me back to Thursday afternoon.  

Extremely ill.  Cleaning carpets. 

I turned off the carpet cleaner and answered the phone. 

“Hey, mom.  What’s up?”

“I just got a phone call from my brother.  My dad passed away this afternoon.” {Silence} “I’m heading home to pack my bags.  I was planning to drive down tomorrow to visit my parents for Christmas, but I’m going a day early now.  I will leave as soon as I can get my things together.” 

She continued to talk as emotion filled her voice, relaying details from the past week or two of his life.  I listened and tried to take it all in.  How does one ever fully absorb that kind of information?  Perhaps everyone’s experience is a bit different. 

Shock

Hysteria

Anger

Pain

Sadness 

One of my sisters started sobbing uncontrollably.  My mom had to tell her to take a deep breath before she could continue talking.  

Numb

For me, there is always an emotional disconnect – a numbness – that occurs when I am given bad news.  Surreal.  As if I’m swirling above myself, witness to my mortal body standing, holding the phone and listening. 

That numbness serves as a protective mechanism while I wrap my head around the information I’m being given and attempt to process it.  And then comes the flood.  My emotions return like a desert summer storm – swift, powerful and overwhelming.  The waves of emotions continue to ebb and flow as memories and reality of his death hit me over and over again throughout the day.  

My grandpa is gone.  After 87 years, he has left this mortal life.  A legacy.  I knew he wouldn’t live forever.  I knew this day would come.  He’s lived a full life.  He’s been tired of this mortal existence for a long time and was not shy to tell you how ready he was to move on.  But I’m going to miss him.  A lot. 

This was the last time I saw my grandpa (on my way out the door to go hiking with my friend, Lisa)

I LOVE that we were laughing together...even if it was due to his lack of cooperation at taking a picture with me.  

Grandpa was one of a kind.  He loved garage sales and bargains.  He drove grandma crazy with his constant treasure-finding, but it was a trait that soon became endearing to the rest of us.  His great grandchildren were the proud recipients of many random ceramic creatures they excitedly picked out and brought home.  Grandpa was not the type to sit still for very long.  He always had a new project.  One year it was hauling a stuffed bear to state and county fairs. Later, it was raising pigeons and chickens in the backyard.  Now that I am a grown woman myself, I have to say my grandmother is an absolute saint!  She tolerated my grandpa’s crazy ideas and projects much better than I would have.  

Grandpa was a working man.  He dug ditches and could work a backhoe like no one ever. I’m not even sort of kidding.  A few years ago, a man who knew my grandpa told me, "Your grandpa could scratch someone's back with a backhoe and not leave a single mark behind.  That's how good he was."  The man was a legend working with big machines back in his glory days.   He loved working with his hands and using what he had on hand to fix something.  I cannot count the number of boats, trailers, RV’s and other vehicles he brought home over the years to fix up.  He also loved fishing, a fact that permanently bonded Dylan to his great grandfather forever.    

Last March, I took Dylan down to visit my grandparents for his birthday.  One day, we headed into town to get some clothes from JC Penney (where my grandma used to work).  Grandma pulled her white Cadillac out of the garage a little too close to the minivan and scraped all the way down the side as she backed out.  I assured her it was not a big deal since the van is old and worn out.  “It’s fine, Grandma.  We’re just hoping the engine lasts a little while longer.  Don't worry about it.”  She panicked a bit, turned her steering wheel the other way and pulled forward in an attempt to avoid doing any more damage.  In the process, the rim of the Cadillac grabbed hold of the protective shield on the bottom of the van and peeled it up until it was folded open at a 90 degree angle.  😳
Grandma was devastated.  In fact, I hesitated to tell this story for fear of embarrassing her.  But to fully appreciate my grandpa, you have to hear the whole story...  

By this point in time, grandpa used a motorized wheelchair when he was outside.  He kept a couple of them in the garage so he could get around more quickly. As Grandma put the Cadillac back into reverse to once again try to avoid doing more damage to the van, Grandpa comes racing up the driveway in his “Jazzy” to see what happened. Grandpa slowly shook his head back and forth (not really upset, but more in a “What in the world am I going to do with this woman” kind of way), steers the jazzy over to the side of the van, lifts his foot up and proceeds to kick the side of the van a couple of times.  The protective shield (or whatever it’s called) bounced right back out at a 90 degree angle, completely unfazed by grandpa’s kicking.  Dylan and I did our best to keep from busting out laughing as we watched grandpa take in the details of a new problem he would spend the afternoon trying to solve.  

We returned from our shopping spree to find a great big screw holding the panel of the van in place.  Grandpa drove the jazzy over to fill me in on the happenings, “I put a screw in the side panel for you.  That should hold it in place and keep it from flapping in the wind for your drive home.  You’ll have to take it in and have it replaced.  Just send grandma the bill.”  I never did take the van in to be fixed.  I still have a screw in the side of the van holding that panel in place.  I smile fondly and think of my grandpa every time I open my door.   

My grandpa.  Gramps.  I’m not sure what age you have to be to catch a glimpse of the true man.  Perhaps anyone could if they looked hard enough.  For me, it didn’t take much more than a smile or hug to see past the politically incorrect, cussing man with strong opinions and no filter.  He had a hard outer shell, but inside he was nothing but goo.  Grandkids and great grandkids were particularly good at finding the inner core where he would melt like butter in the palm of their hand.

A little piece of my heart belonged to my grandpa.  That part of my heart is broken, aching, and longing for a big bear hug embrace just one more time.  I love you, grandpa!  Till we meet again.  

Tender Mercy

My older boys spent several hours working hard today.  As in manual labor, really pushing themselves physically, good old-fashioned hard work.  While they were gone, I decided to take Marissa and Caleb to the park to play and have a picnic for lunch.  I left a note for the boys to join us at the park when they finished.  It was one of those amazing moments where the stars align or some other cosmic force is in play. We had THE ENTIRE PARK to ourselves. I was able to read/listen to a book and take notes in my journal while still spending time with my little ones. They were ADORABLE! They were playing so cute together and making up games and stories. No tattle-telling, no crying, no needy, clingy, whiney kids. Just two siblings who are currently best friends making memories.

I've been a parent long enough to realize these types of moments come and go.  Dylan and Preston used to be best buddies, but are currently in a friendship funk. Sibling rivalry is in full force. They need space. They compete with one another much more than they cooperate and help each other and the incessant teasing is making me crazy (although the teasing part is pretty one-sided).  I've learned to take it in stride and not assign more meaning to their ups and downs than is necessary. Stages of life don't last forever and they allow for growth and development. But...I love when the needs of certain children match up with one another and siblings get along more than usual. For now, I feel extremely grateful that Marissa and Caleb's age, gender and personality mesh really well. They have constant adventures, love spending time together and make more messes than I can even begin to describe (something I've come to refer to as creativity and imagination).
BLESSING!  It is a true blessing and I am trying to soak in the moments and enjoy these two little ones tremendously while it lasts. The time at the park was not a complete surprise to me, but I still found myself smiling as I caught a glimpse of them creating rules and regulations for their "tree house" and hauling cup after cup of water from the drinking fountain to create the perfect consistency for building a sandcastle.

DELIGHTFUL! That's the best word I can use to describe it.  It was delightful to watch them. And to still be able to find time to read, ponder and reflect while spending time with my kiddos was absolute PERFECTION.  I found myself expressing gratitude.  And feeling joy.  Real JOY.

Dylan and Preston pulled into the park on their bikes and I couldn't help but smile.  They were clearly tired, but obviously had a good day working hard, something I feel both boys really need at this stage in their development.  They were excited to tell me about their day and then informed me that Wendy's has $0.50 frosties this summer.  They  asked if they could ride over and get one with their own money.  I said yes.  My mind was carried back to memories of my own childhood, walking to Holiday Oil with my younger sister to buy a treat during summer break. It was a big deal to earn trust from your parents and become more independent. We were excited but cautious. We obeyed traffic laws and didn't talk to strangers. We took our privileges seriously and gained more and more independence over time. My boys are doing the same. I smiled at this flashback in time and felt more joy and gratitude.

After a multi-hour park adventure, I decided it was time to head home. Marissa and Caleb asked if they could have a frosty too and I decided it was a perfect day for a treat on the way home from the park. I was also secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of the boys and make sure they were doing okay without looking like a was checking up on them.

I pulled into the Wendy's parking lot and THIS 👇 is what I saw.

My mama heart 💓 skipped a beat and I had to pause to catch my breath. MY BOYS! Look at my sweet, little (Um...I mean, not-so-little) boys! All dirty and grimy and sweaty from a day of hard work. Just LOOK at them!

The old school MasterCard commercial started playing in my head.

Two small chocolate frosties from Wendy's: 

$1

Bike and scooter for summertime adventure: 

$200

Brothers making memories that last a lifetime: 

Priceless

Cheeseball I know. But seriously! This picture was EXACTLY what I needed. I soon realized that what I originally thought was a priceless moment that I was fortunate enough to capture on my phone, was actually a tender mercy in disguise.  

It's been a rough week.  Busy.  Stressful.  And extremely emotional.  This picture reminded me that things are still okay.  Life is good.  There are blessings that surround me when I am able to slow down and be present.  When I don't push away joy for fear that darkness may lie just around the corner.  

Dylan and Preston are learning the value of hard work. They are gaining independence. They are working together AND playing together. They may argue and fight, but they also love and support one another.  

Marissa and Caleb are the sprinkles and glitter. They make life exciting and magical! They continue to amaze me with their creativity, and can turn anything into a game...or an EPIC ADVENTURE. Their giggles are contagious and their hugs can turn a hard, frozen heart into a GREAT BIG PUDDLE!  

 Fashion show

The BEST BREAKFAST EVER (just ask Caleb)!!

Their very own super hero changing space (on the front lawn) 

Constant adventure and excitement

I needed to know I was loved today.  I needed a reminder that joy can be found even during difficult times.  I needed a message.  And I received one.  It came in the form of a candid picture of two boys lounging on a dirty sidewalk outside of Wendy's with frosties, a scooter and a bike.  

A message of love.  

Of support.  

Of family.

A reminder to slow down.  

To breathe.  

To be present.

To walk barefoot through the grass.  

And feel the wind on my face. 

A reminder of simplicity.  

And joy. 

A reminder that I am still alive.

The Olive Tree

Marcos and I were recently asked to teach the mission prep class in our stake.  For those who may not be familiar with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, we have the opportunity to kind of train the young men and women considering serving a full-time 18-24 month mission for our church.

It was one of those callings that kind of caught us off guard (especially me), but within a very short period of time felt 100% right.    For whatever reason, we are meant to mentor this little group along at this specific moment in time.  And...I AM LOVING IT!!!

It sounds crazy because most of these kids are bigger than I am, but I feel like a mother duck with a flock of ducklings under my wing, ducklings eagerly following my awkward little waddle down to the pond.  They aren't newly hatched ducklings.  They are approaching adulthood.  And yet they still have a lot to learn, and we have been entrusted with their care.  We get to teach them the art of swimming - how to glide, how to paddle and when and where to make ripples that will continue forward and outward long after they have left the water.  It's an awesome yet humbling experience.

Yes I know they're geese, but you get the idea

We witnessed our first "mission call" moment yesterday.  One of our young women received her mission call last week.  She will be serving in Jamaica and leaves  in June.  I was so EXCITED when she told us about her call.  I may or may not have terrified her with my big mama bear embrace, but I COULD NOT help myself!  It was such a beautiful moment!!

We are learning all sorts of skills and covering all sorts of questions the kids have, but every week we leave a little bit of time for sharing thoughts, insights and experiences from the previous week.  It's probably my favorite part of class.  Yesterday, one of the boys from our class said he had been studying the allegory of the olive tree (Jacob 5), but that he read it differently this time as if the entire chapter was about him.  It was personal.  His words pierced my heart and I paused and reflected momentarily.  There were two scriptures I had been considering sharing and I still didn't know which direction I wanted to go with my comments.  Now I knew what I needed to say.  I silently thanked God for sending the Holy Ghost to direct me to the words best suited for our class that day.  I thought that was why his comment hit me differently.  I was wrong.

I knew I was close to that same chapter in my personal scripture studies, but I didn't realize that is the exact page I would turn to this morning.  I'd say it was a crazy coincidence, but the reality is that God is in the details of our lives.  It was a tender mercy, and I knew there was a reason I was reading the same chapter after a comment had been made in class yesterday.  The comment made by that young man echoed in my mind...
"It was about me.  It was personal."
As I started to read, an image of a beautiful olive tree took shape in my mind.

"...thus saith the Lord, I will liken thee...unto a tame olive-tree, which a man took and nourished in his vineyard..." (Jacob 5:3)

"And it came to pass that the master of the vineyard went forth and he saw that HIS OLIVE TREE BEGAN TO DECAY; and he said: I will prune it, and dig about it, and nourish it, that perhaps it may shoot forth young and tender branches, and it perish not."  (Jacob 5:4)

I started to cry.  This is MY story.  This is personal.  It is a story about me.  I am the olive tree that began to decay.  The reminder that Christ saw my decay, saw me wither and fail to produce fruit was a very powerful image for me.  The reminder that Christ came to prune and dig and nourish me when I started to decay brought tears to my eyes.    

"And it came to pass that after many days it began to put forth somewhat a little, young and tender branches; but behold, the MAIN TOP THEREOF BEGAN TO PERISH."  (v. 6)

Yes!  I remember that part too.  I began to perish.  For two years, I have struggled to thrive.  I barely survived.  I may have been alive, but I was definitely NOT living. 

"And it came to pass that the master of the vineyard saw it, and he said unto his servant:
IT GRIEVETH ME THAT I SHOULD LOSE THIS TREE...we will pluck off those main branches which are beginning to wither away and we will cast them into the fire that they may be burned." (v. 7)

More sobbing.  Christ DID NOT want to lose me.  And...there was definitely a need for a fire, to burn and destroy the dead and withering parts that were attempting to destroy my entire being.  Being pruned and burned is often a painful process.  But it was necessary.  

"And it came to pass that the servant of the Lord of the vineyard did according to the word of the Lord of the vineyard, and grafted in the branches of the wild olive-tree."  (v. 10)

"...It grieveth me that I should lose this tree; wherefore, THAT PERHAPS I MIGHT PRESERVE THE ROOTS THEREOF THAT THEY PERISH NOT, that I might preserve them unto myself, I have done this thing." (v. 11)

"Wherefore, go thy way; WATCH THE TREE, and NOURISH IT, according to my word."  (v. 12)

Oh my goodness.  Yes!  I was watched.  And I was nourished.  I was watched even when I didn't realize anyone was watching over me.  Even when I could not FEEL anyone looking out for me.  Even when the pain of the dead branches and the pruning made it impossible to see beyond myself.  I was watched and I was nourished.

"And it came to pass that the Lord of the vineyard looked and beheld the tree in the which the wild olive branches had been grafted; and IT HAD SPRUNG FORTH AND BEGUN TO BEAR FRUIT.  And HE BEHELD THAT IT WAS GOOD..." (v. 17)

Yep.  That's what's happening to me.  As the dead parts have been cast into the fire, the new tender branches that were grafted in are starting to take root.  I'm FINALLY starting to spring forth and bear fruit again.  I've been watched over.  I've been nourished.  And I am finally starting to bear fruit again like I used to before I began to decay.  I'm producing fruit again.  And the fruit I'm producing is good.  

"...Behold, the branches of the wild tree have taken hold of the moisture of the root thereof, that THE ROOT THEREOF HATH BROUGHT FORTH MUCH STRENGTH...Now, if we had not grafted in these branches, the TREE THEREOF WOULD HAVE PERISHED..." (v. 18)

The root hath brought forth much strength.  Yeah it has.  Another powerful reminder.  And a frightening thought.  Had this not happened, the tree thereof would have perished.  I was rescued from decay, from a state of withering and failing to produce fruit.  I was nourished and strengthened with digging, pruning and burning, with grafting and watering.  And if this hadn't happened...I would have PERISHED.  Quite literally.  I would have perished had I not been loved and nourished and taken care of by Christ and the angels on earth sent to help him save this dying tree.  And now...after a very long painful process, I am beginning to bring forth good fruit once again.  And who knows.  Maybe one day, I'll even be part of pruning and digging and helping to save another withering tree.  

Lucky Rose

Last Saturday was a big day, a first for our family. We adopted an adorable dog named Lucky. Well, Lucky Rose "TD" to be exact. The details in the name come from multiple children with lots of opinions. Marissa wanted to make sure the new female in the family wasn't mistaken for a boy so she chose Rose as an official part of the dog's name. "TD"  stands for "the dog"  and comes from the 13-year-old boy who  loves to throw in nicknames and slang to prove he's down with it, hip, fly and totally lit, yo!!  😉  As  entertaining as it has been to watch my children interact with Lucky, she has seriously been a blessing in our lives. Lucky  has healed hearts and brought joy to our family in a way that is difficult to describe.  She is the new best friend Dylan desperately needed.  She is the self-proclaimed "sister" Marissa has always wanted.  She is a calming presence Preston seeks, and the fun Caleb looks for in a playmate.  But the story of Lucky is so much bigger than a cute dog, pet rescue and adoption.  So much bigger.

Thanksgiving 2017 began like any other.  Marcos and Dylan headed out with the big boys for shotgun shooting in the morning.  I hung out with the younger kids while fixing mashed potatoes for dinner.  Dinner was great, my mashed potatoes were a hit, the kids got along great, gratitude filled the air...
It was a Thanksgiving to remember!

Marcos and I had taken different cars to allow for some early black Friday shopping since Dylan is now old enough to want a "big kid" gift and the shotgun he wanted was super discounted.  After the shotgun purchase had taken place, Marcos and Dylan headed back for pie and we finished the evening off great.  At some point, I realized it was super late and time to get kids in bed.  I took the younger two home in the van and Marcos headed out in the car with Dylan and Preston.

I got kids tucked in bed and started wondering what was taking Marcos so long when he drove up with the boys.  They were super excited, attempting to relay the story of the evening.  Apparently my mom's neighbors were coming out of their house as Marcos and the boys headed for the car, which was parked on the street.  It turns out their daughter fosters dogs who have been rescued from the shelter.  She was there with her own two dogs and a third who was a foster dog.  My kids fell in love with the little beagle they met and were eager to tell me all about her.  They had even taken her over to my mom's house and my mom loved the dog (truly shocking since my mother is super practical and not the type to encourage me to add extra responsibilities to my already overflowing plate).  The kids wanted me to meet Lucky and made sure it happened by telling Marissa and Caleb all about the cute dog they met that night.  To top it all off, Marcos took me aside when the kids weren't around and said, "Hon, I know it's weird, but I feel like she's meant to be our dog."  Sigh.  Outnumbered.  I was COMPLETELY outnumbered.

The next two weeks were a blur.  We met up with the foster family the following day at a park and got to know the dog.  She was really good with the kids and is great with other dogs as well.  What I couldn't believe was how she already seemed to be our dog.  She listened to Dylan and followed him around.  She snuggled up by Marissa on a blanket, lovingly arranged just for her. It was like Lucky had always been a part of our family...only we had just met her.  I wasn't sure I wanted another pet.  Actually, to be perfectly honest, I DID NOT want another pet.  Don't get me wrong.  I love animals!  But I get super attached to them and losing Dexter this summer was an emotional process.  Plus, I already have a house full of creatures for whom I am responsible and I wasn't sure my sanity could handle one more thing.  Marcos felt the same, although he can usually be persuaded a little easier than I can in situations like this.  But instead of feeling like he was giving in, he was pretty sentimental about the whole thing. It appeared this dog was going to join our family. It's like she was already ours.

At one point, we ran into a glitch and it looked like Lucky might not be available to be adopted.  The kids were already super attached and I knew it would break their heart if this dog did not become a member of our family.  And yet, I was NOT nervous or afraid.  Every single detail had fallen into place up to this point.  From the timing of Dylan noticing Lucky on Thanksgiving to the way she interacted with our children.  From the kindness and generosity we found in the couple who was fostering Lucky to the feeling Marcos and I had that she was meant to join our family.   It all happened effortlessly.  Somehow, even in the face of potential heartbreak, I knew it would all work out the way it needed to.

Lucky is sweet and gentle, poised and dignified.  She is extremely smart and has the nose of a hunting dog.  She brings a calm demeanor to our home, something we were definitely lacking.  It still shocks me that a dog can change the energy in our home so much, but she does. Lucky also has a bit of a stubborn streak and a little bit of mischief in her nature. At first those two facts scared me.  But if I'm  being honest with myself, it likely means she is ABSOLUTELY PERFECT for our family dynamic.  It took me a couple days to warm up to the idea of having a dog again.  I was mainly making my decisions based on my observations of my children with Lucky.  However, my heart continues to soften to this new creature more and more, and I simply can't imagine our home without her now.

The story of Lucky Rose is a story of FAITH, of HOPE, of LOVE.  It's a perfect story for Thanksgiving and Christmas, the very timing this true story took place.  It's a story of gratitude, kindness and miracles.  Lucky will always be a reminder of God's love and goodness, of His infinite wisdom and His ability to manage the details of our lives.

The Man I Love...

“To be loved but not known is comforting but superficial. To be known and not loved is our greatest fear. But to be fully known and truly loved is, well, a lot like being loved by God. It is what we need more than anything. It liberates us from pretense, humbles us out of our self-righteousness, and fortifies us for any difficulty life can throw at us.”          - Timothy J. Keller

I love quirks.  You know what I mean?  Those little nuances that make individuals unique.  I love them!  Some are annoying, but I feel like they are what bond us to others.  It's what makes us feel known and still loved by those closest to us.  

I remember the first time I watched Marcos get ready for a soccer game after we had been married.  I'd watched him play many times, but I'd never been privy to the pre-game process.  Oh my goodness!  I simply stared at him wide-eyed in disbelief.  After all, Marcos is a pretty chill dude.  What in the world was he doing?  He tucked his shirt into his soccer shorts, untucked it a little, tucked it back in a little more, untucked it on the side...  I'm not kidding.  This was a LONG process!!  I thought we were done with the "ritual" when he put on his shin guards, sleeves and soccer socks.  Holy crap!  The fold at the top of the socks had to be just so.  He pulled them up and folded them over a million times.  I kid you not!!  I get it.  With sports there are often superstitions and nervous habits that then become part of the routine.  I'm pretty sure that was the case with Marcos.  But it was like being in a different world.  Who in the world did I marry?  Was he going to be this nervous and precise about EVERYTHING?  I didn't comment.  I just observed.  As a sports-loving girl myself, I could NOT relate to this level of intensity.  Sure I got butterflies and would jump up and down a couple times to get my game face on, but I could be ready for a sporting event in two minutes flat, including double knots in the shoes and the retrieval of the water bottle.  

Our love was still young and flirtatious and I used my new ammunition to taunt and tease him just enough to keep things fun.  But his OCD sports ritual was eye-opening to say the least.  

Then there were the little annoying habits everyone talks about in marriage.  Marcos will use a different bathroom rather than change the toilet paper roll.  His habits in the empty toilet paper roll department have improved some, but he did not change a toilet paper roll for YEARS.  We have a little cup/dish that we keep stocked with q-tips.  He will choose not to use q-tips for weeks at a time rather than refill that little cup.  I used to tease him that we had a toilet paper and q-tip fairy that would go around refilling everything in our home.  For us, it was never the source of an argument, but certainly we had some laughs and moments of annoyance in this department.  Over time, those quirky behaviors have become endearing.  It's strange but true.  

Last weekend, we did some deep cleaning around the house.  Marcos cleaned bathrooms while I was working on the kitchen with Dylan.  When I went back upstairs, I found THIS in my bathroom.  I couldn't help but smile.

On a scale of 1-10, bathroom decor rates a whopping NEGATIVE 50 for Marcos.  As long as he has the basics, he couldn't care less about the rest.  I get it.  He doesn't notice what the decorations say.  He doesn't need fancy towels.  But this habit of rearranging the bathroom decorations every time he helped out would bother me a little.  Nothing major.  More like "Can you please pay attention to what I told you last time?" kind of way.  It definitely wasn't a huge deal, but I would mention it.  "Hey, you know the candles in the bathroom?  They are supposed to say 'Live. Laugh. LOVE.' not 'Live. Love. Laugh.'  I switched them back, but in case you didn't know the order I thought I would mention it.  Will you try to put them back in the right order next time?"

Yes!  The order of the candles has been a point of discussion many times.  So...I was shocked to find myself smiling as I looked at the candles once again rearranged "INCORRECTLY."  My internal dialog went something like this.  "There is NO way Marcos is arranging things differently on purpose.  Nope!  He is actually trying to be helpful.  Somehow in his mind they are supposed to read 'Live. Love. Laugh.'  It's as simple as that.  Perhaps in his own subtle way, he's sending me a message.  Maybe subconsciously he knows I need more of a reminder to laugh than to love most of the time, something that is surprisingly easy for him, but can be a challenge for me when life gets rough.  Yep!  Maybe I need a reminder to LAUGH more often."  So...I left them.  I decided there must be a good reason for the reorganization.  And now every time I step out of the shower, I think about the man I love and the quirks that make him unique.  The simple yet profound things that make me love him more every day.

This past month has been really rough for me.  Really really rough!  I hesitate to use extreme words, but breakdown would probably be a fairly accurate description.  As I worked to try to figure out why life seemed to be collapsing all around me, Marcos stood by my side as a loving and supportive companion.  He took the kids so I could rest.  He sent me on a mental health trip for a long weekend to hike and bike and wander around in nature (something that truly makes my heart sing).  And he loved me.  When I wasn't cute or fun or lovable, he loved me.  When I crossed the line of being sane, he loved me.  He may have been quaking with fear inside, but he stood strong.  Strong, steady and immovable during a storm of immense proportions.  Few people will likely understand the immensity of those statements.  But for me, they are a sign of the truest love.  A sign of deep and lasting love.

When it comes to fatherhood, Marcos is incredible!  As I walked from the bathroom into our bedroom, I glanced up at his nightstand.  The man is simplicity at its finest.  He does not keep random things around.  He hates things.  He detests clutter.  But he knows how much it means to our little ones to see gifts they give him being treasured.  So he keeps a few sentimental things lying around to show them he cares.  Below is a picture of the lamp on his nightstand.  A butterfly necklace from Marissa draped around his lampshade and a Halloween toy Caleb gifted to him that he tucked in snuggly next to the butterfly.  Weird?  Yes.  Distracting?  For sure.  But one of the cutest things I have ever seen.  Truly.

In the midst of my "rough" month, I did very little shopping or cooking.  So...we took the kids out to eat last weekend after we had the house back in working order.  It was a busy night and the restaurant was super crowded and chaotic.  In the middle of our dinner, a little girl at a table next to ours pushed on the handle of a door that is an emergency exit.  A loud, obnoxious alarm went off and added to the already chaotic ambiance.  I heard a man from a neighboring table whisper, "I'm glad it wasn't my kid!"  I have to admit, I was thinking the same thing.  If you know our rambunctious group, it totally could have been...at this snapshot in our lives most likely originating from the bouncy bubbly four-year-old, Caleb.  As a mother who has been chasing kids for over 13 years, the idea that we hadn't set off the alarm was a HUGE relief.  I felt so bad for the little girl who set off the alarm and also for her parents.  You could tell they were totally embarrassed.

After a couple minutes of loud, obnoxious alarm-sounding, an employee with a key came to the rescue.  As the young man approached, Marcos started talking.  For a minute, I was tempted to kick him under the table with a subtle message from the spouse of "Please do not make this worse with your comments and teasing!"  But I didn't.  I just sat there as a silent witness of a moment I will likely remember forever.  Marcos began with all the charm he could muster, "I'm sorry, Sir!  I didn't mean to set off the alarm.  I really didn't.  I promise I won't do it again."  The teen employee smiled, laughed it off and told him it was okay.  We all laughed a little, breathed a sigh of relief and returned to our dinner.

A few minutes later, the mother of the little girl collected her children and belongings to head out the door.  She stopped by our table and leaned over to Marcos and said,  "I cannot thank you enough for your kindness.  That was so thoughtful of you!  My daughter was so embarrassed that she set off the alarm.  It's her birthday today!  She was trying to help me take gifts out to the car and chose the closest door.  Your act of kindness mean so much to me!  Thank you for taking an extremely awkward situation and making it better for her."
OH MY HEART!!!  The emotion was intense.  I could relate to this woman on so many levels.  And my husband - MY SWEET THOUGHTFUL MARCOS - had used his friendly, outgoing personality to completely diffuse a situation that was already extremely embarrassing for this little girl and her parents.

I sat there just staring at him after they left.  He was clueless.  At some point he said, "Why are you looking at me with googly eyes?  You're making me nervous!"  I just laughed and teased him back a little.  "What?  I can look at you however I want!"  Later that night, we talked about the situation.  I told him how much it meant to me to watch him be so kind and thoughtful like that.  It's the part I most adore about the man of my dreams.  Truly!

As the day of Thanksgiving approaches, I find myself reflecting on the intense gratitude I feel for Marcos, a spouse who loves and adores me, my children and every person he meets.