I am a mother who knows Christ will not leave us comfortless.

Today is Addy Day.  It is the day she returned to our Father in Heaven 13 years ago.   Here is some of what I wrote at the time.


Addy came to our home as a gift from our loving Father in Heaven.  She came to gain a body, and complete a short but important mission in this life.  Our family is greatly blessed to have had her. When I first realized that Addy had died I was scared, hurt, confused.  But very quickly my Father in Heaven blessed me with a sweet peace, and the knowledge that Addy's life on earth was complete, that he had called her home to do his work on the others side of the veil.  I know that Addy is with her Savior, and is happy.  I feel that she misses us with the same sweetness that we miss her, but her spirit will always be near to our family, And Kate will have a sister on the other side watching out for her, as a guardian angel

Addy was beaming, Kate, not so much

My Heavenly Father knew how quickly my heart would break when Addy left us.  he did all he could to prepare things to ease my pain.  The week before she died we had our first ever family picture taken..  Addy beamed for the camera.  The last day that I had my sweet Addy was the day before we had planned to go home for Christmas.  I wanted to have pictures to take to Grandmas and decided to use up the last of my film in the camera to try and get a current picture of Addy, and of Kate and Addy together.  I took pictures of my sweet , happy girls and took them to be developed.  The roll came back with some wonderful pictures.  We had bought a couple of special stories to give our girls for Christmas.  That day, because everything was going smoothly, I took time to write a letter to Addy inside the front cover of her book.

I put two happy girls to bed that night, and finished wrapping a few last gifts and put the last of our clothes in suitcases to go hoe.  I finished at 11 and just then Addy started to wake up.  This was not usual for her. and if I had followed our "rules" I would have let her cry it out to keep her sleeping through the night, but instead, because I was still awake, I got her up.  She was happy and seemed playful so we sat on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, and played.  She crawled across the floor to me a few times and gazed at the Christmas lights.  She sat on my lap, and played with my hand, patting it, and waving her hands.  Then I went and nursed her.

 After eating well she still was not sleepy, so I took her in her room and rocked her and sang to her all my favorite carols. I started with Silent Night, then God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, O Holy Night, Away in a Manger, We Three Kings, many others I don't recall.  I ended with Hush Thee My Baby, and one more time of Silent Night.  She snuggled in my arms and after a while, settled down.  I laid her in her crib, covered her up, and kissed her goodnight.  This sweet little baby knew she was leaving and said her good-byes to ease her mother's pain.  I did not know it was good-bye then, but I am so grateful for such a sweet last memory.


Years later I can say that I still miss my little girl.  I know she watches over our family, I feel her near when I am at the temple.  She is a tangible anchor that keeps me striving to return to Heaven myself.

Most of all I can say that God knew what I needed to experience in order to make me really change and learn and grow.  He gave me the sweet and bitter experience then, to prepare me for other experiences later on, and so that I can have empathy for others.

Each time I turn to God for comfort, with real faith, and purpose of heart, He does give me solace. He lets me choose to turn to Him for peace or to try and fight through on my own.  I have tried both options at different times.  I can definitively say I prefer the peace and comfort that He offers to the pain and loneliness and despair that I find on my own.  He has shown me his working in my life, in the little details, like a picture taken on certain day, and in the big over-arching direction of my life.  I have felt His presence, I know He is there.  He has not left me comfortless.

I am a mother who knows peace.

Merry Christmas 2014!

Twas the night before New Years and all through our house,
There was peace and rejoicing, for me and my spouse.

The children were tucked all snug in their beds,
While visions of happiness danced in their heads.

I had thought through this past year and saw good and bad,
Some hard times of sadness, and the miracles we had.

Our measures of progress were scarce to appear,
Our lives looked the same to those we call dear.

But if you could open and see in our hearts
They now are fast made with much stronger parts.

We learned from our garden that God has a plan.
His cycles teach patience to impatient man.

Bright Kate found her dream to teach others truth
through music and stage about Esther (and Ruth?)

Good Cassidy has served her family in love.
Our expectations she exceeds beyond and above.

Boy Wyatt has grown to love working with Dad.
Also reading, eating, and flying are times to be had.

Joy! Mille has taught us to always keep trying,
Though sometimes life's hard and we find ourselves crying.

Estella Jane's walking and smiles remind
that her health is a miracle from a Father, kind.

At Crossfit we're given the chance to grow muscle
that helps us at home and when life is a bustle.

But greatest blessing this year that I can recall
Is Christ's Atonement to lift us each time we fall.

Jesus came into our home through scripture and prayer
Our lives are changed for we felt him there.

May this new year for you bring a blessing so sweet.
Although the joy comes after tears at His feet.

Home-grown watermelon.  Can't we eat it already?

Home crafted costume of Glinda the good witch

Getting violins for first lessons.

Saying Goodbye to Raksaka

 

Airplane ride for 9th Birthday.

  

Hot date to see the lights.

 

I am a mother who knows what gift to give.

It is one gift that everyone needs:  my husband, my in-laws, my children, my friends, my great aunt, and my neighbors.  Even those who don't want it, and leave it on the front porch or trample over it, need it, they just don't know it.  It is beautifully simple, yet too magnificent for me to fully comprehend.  It is unique for each person who receives it.  It tastes sweeter than anything else I have ever tasted.  It is solid as stone, solid enough to build a house on!  It never runs out, the more I use it, the more there is available to me.  Someone else has already paid for it, so it is not really mine to give, but I can share it!

It is the gift of Jesus Christ!  His gospel.  His Love.  His Life.  His Atonement.

#Sharethegift

I am a mother who knows what I celebrate. Part 4

I celebrate Jesus Christ.  

This year for Christmas, I want our family's celebrations to teach of Christ.  Here is my vision.

The day after Thanksgiving, my children were excited to decorate for Christmas.  So we pulled up our two totes of decorations.  As we carefully consider what to put out we discuss how it reminds of Christ.  
Most of our decorations are nativities.  One for each room.  A couple that the young children can play with.  We put away the regular toy basket to make a place for the Christ Child.  Janey, 1 year, has loved wrapping up our baby boy doll and putting him in the manger.  "Jesus" is one of about 5 words in her vocabulary.
Lights on the front porch symbolize that Christ is the light of the world.

We hung stockings on the mantle, sharing the story of Saint Nicolas throwing money through the window of a poor family, and it landing in a stocking. His desire to serve and live like Jesus is worth emulating.  We also talked about the Secret Santa that our ward does for needy families and how it is a chance for us to do what St. Nicolas did.
All the lights on our fake tree were dying last year, so we got rid of it.  We have never had a real tree before, but this year we made a switch.  We actually, opted for a living Christmas tree, that we will plant in the spring.  This fit well into our new found love of growing things.  The evergreen tree symbolizes everlasting life, given to us by our Savior.  
We decorated the tree with strung popcorn, we had just read about that in Man of the Family by Ralph Moody, and our children wanted to try it.  The white represents Christ's purity, and that we can be made clean through baptism and repentance.
We have a star on top to represent the new star that signified Christ's birth.
There is a red cloth draped under the tree, to signify the blood of Christ, that he shed in our behalf.

We sing and listen to Christmas carols in honor of the choir of heavenly hosts who announced Christ's birth to the shepherds.
Our read aloud stories this month are about Christmas.  We just finished A Christmas Carol, and I found much of Christ in it, and laughed at my own narrow-mindedness of the past.

We are teaching our children that Santa Clause, and all the wonderful stories and traditions that have evolved around him, come from those who want to live like the Savior and "sell all that thou hast, and distribute unto the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come, follow me."  Luke 22:18.  In this light we are not asking for gifts, (i.e. lists for Santa) but focusing on what we can give.  If Santa visits, it is because there are good people in the world trying to live as Christ did.  We hope each of our children will become excited about doing the same.  

Our Christmas is simple this year.  I am choosing not to go to all the parties, not to spend much time at stores or pouring over catalogs and searching online.  I am thinking more of homemade gifts and service, or gifts that remind of  Jesus Christ: His gospel, His way of living, how we can become like Him, how we can prepare for Him to come again.

I really do want to celebrate the birth, life, mission, atonement and Resurrection of Jesus Christ.  I  want to talk of Christ, rejoice in Christ, and write of Christ that my children may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins, for healing from pain, for strength beyond their own, for guidance and truth, for happiness and hope.

I am a mother who knows what I celebrate. Part 3

Real growth always includes an element of struggle, difficulty, often pain.  I researched the origins of my childhood traditions.  I found lots of information, then I had to sort through it all to decide what is truth and what is the philosophies of men.  What is good, what is not so good.  We are to judge something as good or evil by its fruits, if it persuades me to come unto Christ, and serve him, it is good.  If it inviteth or enticeth to sin, it is evil.



St. Nicolas as we know him originated from several different customs of different countries.  St. Nicolas was born in the 3rd Century A.D.  His wealthy parents had raised him as a Christian. Orphaned as a young man, he followed the Savior's counsel to sell all that he had, and give the money to the poor. The story is told of a poor family with 3 daughters,  They were to poor to provide a dowry for the girls, and hardly had money for food. The daughters were destined to become slaves.  Nicolas heard of their situation.  On the eve of the day that the oldest daughter was to be sold in to slavery, she washed her stocking and hung them to dry on the mantle.  That night Nicolas came and threw in a bag of gold threw the window.  It landed in one of her stockings.  She was provided a dowry and saved from slavery.  As the other daughters grew and were to be sold, he repeated his tossing of gold threw the window.  Some stories have it land in a shoe.  Thus many countries have children leave out shoes.  There are many other stories of Nicolas kindness and giving, especially as a protector of children. St. Nicolas' feast day is December 6th, the day he died.  In Holland children leave out shoes and it is the Christ child who leaves money in their shoe.

December 25 and Saturnalia.   By modern revelation we know that Jesus was born on April 6th.  Roman, pagan celebrations of Saturnalia took place for a week starting Dec 17.  The solstice, December 21, was considered a birth of the sun, as it was the beginning of days getting longer.  There are lots of conflicting views as to how benevolent or evil the celebration of Saturnalia was.  Likewise there a conflicting theories as to weather December 25 was declared as Christmas because of a calendrical theory or decision, or as a means of Christians molding a pagan festival time to suit their own beliefs.  Most agree the on the latter.  It was about the 4th century that Christians began celebrating Christmas.   There is a good case that Saturnalia's customs have influenced our Christmas celebration.  Singing in the streets, gift giving, worshiping of trees, and bringing them in the house, and general merry-making and revelry were all part of Saturnalia.  At times one time Saturnalia included human sacrifice, which was later replaced with eating human-shaped biscuits or what we now call gingerbread men.

I remember a Relief Society activity in California, where a sister who loved languages and history, and was from Norway, taught us about the history of the Scandanavian traditions.  She told us there were pagan origins of a visiting man leaving gifts, and the families having to leave him a gift of food in exchange, that origanited before Christianity and St. Nicolas entered those countries.  But eventually the traditions mingled.

Santa Clause as we know him today, a jolly, rotund character in a red suit, driving a flying sleigh pulled by reindeer, coming down a chimney with a sack full of toys for children, is a collection of many different cultures adding on traditions that derive from both St. Nicolas, the Christmas story, and Saturnalia customs. The origins came from different European countries mixing the ideas of the two holidays. Most of these traditions were solidified in the early 1800s by the poem The Night Before Christmas and a  cartoon by Thomas Nast that illustrated it.  Elves were added to aid Santa Clause in the work of making toys for so many children.  All of this quickly evolved into commercialism.

I first found much information that was very negative, even dark and evil, about the pagan origins of many "Christmas" traditions.  It really upset and angered me. It felt like Christianity had given up Christ and adopted pagan and worldly traditions instead.  For a time I let my pendulum swing to one extreme, so that I wanted nothing to do with any tradition that appeared to have a pagan origin, or that was not obviously focused on Christ.  In my early days, even Scrooge and the Grinch seemed to have nothing to do with Christ. (I know, reader, you are either laughing or cringing at that.)  They were just stories about being kind, I was angered that they left out Christ.  In my passion, I tried to share these thoughts with my sisters.  They were not warmly received.  :-) The Lord was patient with me though, and continued to teach me.

A turning point was when I found an article that discussed a motive for this merging of the Pagan and Christian holidays.  There is evidence of the Catholic leadership wanting to create a celebration of Christ's birth at Saturnalia as a means of helping to convert pagans to Christianity.  Another idea presented was that in predominately pagan countries, the minority Christians were forced into the festivals as it was a time when no business could be done, so to make the best of it, they chose to place Christian meaning to it, and create their own purpose for celebrating.  Both of those reasons fit under "good."  I was trying to use Christ's words of "by their works ye shall know them; for if their works be good, then they are good also."  Moroni 7:5

In this world there are so many experiences that can be good or bad, depending on what we make of them.  We can't choose what others do, or the consequences of their choices, but we can choose what we do...

I am a mother who knows what I celebrate. Part 2

... Two Years Later.
In April I gave birth to a second perfect little girl. We named her Addy.  She was a happy baby that slept through the night from only a couple months old.  She reached every milestone- smiling, reaching for toys, sitting up, right on target. By mid-December she was learning to crawl.
The night of December 20, Jonathan was on travel, and I was getting us ready for a trip to Utah for Christmas.  Jonathan would be home in the afternoon and we would start driving.  I had the girls bathed, and in bed.  Suitcases packed and the house clean. The presents were all wrapped and carefully hidden in a large suitcase.  Just as I turned out all the lights - except the Christmas lights -and was going to head to bed, Addy woke up.  I picked her up, and she seemed wide awake, playful.  I was in an excited mood, and so I took her out by the tree and we played on the floor. She crawled back and forth to me.  After a while, I decided I should try to get her back to sleep, so I nursed her.  She was still awake, so I sang to her, nearly every Christmas carol I knew, by then she was still awake, but calm, so I laid her in her bed, and went to mine.  

The next morning 2 year old Kate woke me up.  I fed her breakfast and then went quietly into the girls room to get her clothes.  As I peeked in the crib, I was  --- there are no words for what I was --- my baby was dead.  Even now my body goes numb, and my mind blank, as I try to remember that moment.  

My life was eternally altered.  I was carried by the Lord through the next hours, days, weeks and months.  Eventually, the Lord set me gently back on my own two feet, and I had to really confront all of my emotions, thoughts, fears, and hopes.  I had to know what I really believed, about heaven and eternal families, yes.  But I had to know the details, what was my Addy doing as a Spirit.  What would it be like when I met her again? Would she be grown or back to her infant body? Had she died because of something I had done or was it really God's will and timing?    I began a quest for knowledge.  For Truth.  When my yearning eased, the pain of missing my baby came back - a physical aching in my arms to hold her, and in my chest - my heart.  I learned that to ease the pain I had to return to my quest for understanding.   

Through study, prayer, and personal revelation and more study my questions were answered.  I learned that I had to accept God's will.  Trust that his plan was for my happiness.  I had to forgive myself and God.  I had to get to the place where like our Savior, I could say, "Not my will, but Thine be done."  I cycled in and out of faith and hope, and despair and depression.  But always, a tiny thread at a time, my testimony was growing, and God was teaching me.

Once I learned, and really knew in my heart, that my child was in heaven, and I could have her back so long as I qualified for heaven, my quest changed.  How was I going to be sure and make it to Heaven?  I have so many weaknesses.  Make so many mistakes.  Like Nephi my spirit rejoices, but my flesh is weak.  Why do I wallow in depression when I know the truth of the Gospel?

I had to purge out all iniquity from myself and my home - that was the only way I could get my daughter back, or rather, qualify to go where she is someday.

Along my quest, I began to look at Traditions.  I found that I did have some false traditions.  Some traditions that were not serving to bring me to Christ.  I want everything to bring me to Christ.  As a mortal, I need all the help I can get.    How could I change tradition?  Its very nature and definition mean it is part of our culture, ingrained in us.  I had some more painful learning experiences ahead.

To be continued...

I am a mother who knows what I celebrate. Part 1

I celebrate the birth, life, mission, atonement and Resurrection of Jesus Christ.  I talk of Christ, rejoice in Christ, and write of Christ that my children may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins, for healing from pain, for strength beyond their own, for guidance and truth, for happiness and hope.

Several years ago, I started down a road of questioning all of my traditions.  There are many verses throughout the Book of Mormon that talk about the "false traditions of our fathers."  I wondered if I had any false traditions from my childhood, that I was passing on to my children.  I started looking at holidays and the traditions around those holidays.

What I learned took me on a journey and changed how I celebrate Christmas.


My mother made Christmas truly magical.  There were 10 children in our family, so our house was always bustling, and there were always children young enough to get into the magic.  It took 3 full days of hard work to clean the house and put up the decorations, right after Thanksgiving. All the regular wall decor,  and knicknacks were wrapped up into boxes and in there place we put snowmen, Santa Clauses, elves, reindeer, holly boughs, tinsel, ginger bread houses, mistletoe and of course a nativity.  The pink and blue hand towels were replaced with red and green.  There were Christmas lights, in some form or another in every room of the house.  A beautiful, real Christmas tree upstairs, and a fun one the children could decorate downstairs.   Most of December you could hear Mannheim Steamroller and Johnny Mathis' Christmas Album playing, you could smell the sweet spicyness of wasail in the crockpot, ready when you got home from school, or came in from the cold.   And I'm sure there was always a foot of snow ;-)

Every night we would read a different Christmas story.  The first one was The Last Straw.  It was just on plain typed paper, long before the beautiful picture book was published.  Then we would draw names for Pixies.  That was who we got to secretly serve that week.  And each week before Christmas we drew a new name.  I loved this tradition and always liked to make a big deal of doing something for my person every day.  I also would anxiously look on my bed for love notes, and treats from my pixie.  I remember one year there was a week when my pixie didn't come - the first day, nor the second, nor the third.  I was getting very disappointed. Being young, I think I let that disappointment show to my siblings, in hope that my pixie would get on the ball, I also tried all the harder to be an excellent pixie myself, doing a chore and leaving a love note.  Maybe an after school treat, too. 
Finally, on Friday I came home, with the faintest hope.  Before going inside to look though, I went out to the woodshed to check on a new batch of kittens, - our cats always belonged to me, and I loved to play with new kittens.  As I looked in the shed, the first thing I saw was a streak of red on one of the little white and grey fluffballs.  My first thought was "Oh no, somehow she has been hurt."  But as I lifted her out of the shed, I saw that it was a red ribbon tied around her neck. Attached was a piece of paper with "2. Look where you wash clothes."  It was in my oldest, teenage brother's handwriting. (We almost always figured out who our pixie was, but we never let on.)   This was a piece to a treasure hunt.  That was always considered the ultimate gift a pixie could do. It extended the surprise to the maximum.  I was ecstatic, as I ran into the laundry room and searched for the next clue.  I went around gathering the clues one by one, all around the house, until I was led to the microwave where a cup of hot chocolate and some cookies were waiting for me.  I enjoyed it, although I felt bad for having complained about a slacker pixie.  Really I had the best one!  And after I ate my treat, I had the fun of looking for the first clue.  The fun lasted even longer.

I remember writing Santa letters and giving them to Mom.  One year, I got to wondering, though. I remember writing a different letter to Santa, putting it in an envelope and mailing it off.  However, I never was sure if I had the right address, and therefore, I always believed my test had not really been valid.  Just because I got what I had put on the list I handed to Mom, didn't mean Santa wasn't real.  It just meant she had the right way of getting it to Santa, and I didn't.  I have often been told I am a little too trusting!  

I remember Christmas Eve driving home from our cousins house, and watching the sky, hoping I might see Santa's sleigh.  I had a very real belief.  I remember my Grandma Wood telling me a story of seeing Santa one Christmas Eve night when she was a little girl.

My mom had a little bendable rubber elf.  He moved around our house to random places on a shelf, or end table, or the bathroom counter.  He was Santa's special messenger.  He was always watching to see "who was naughty or nice."  My mom was way ahead of the now popular "Elf on the Shelf"  My mother could have written the book on how to make Christmas magical.

Now jump ahead several years to my first Christmas with my husband.  You will probably laugh at this.  But I actually, was very sad and disappointed that I had to acknowledge that Santa wasn't real, and the only presents I would get from him would have to be put under the tree myself. I believe they call this the disease of Entitlement, that my spoiled generation is so prone to.  I had been taught well enough to not act on those emotions of selfishness, but I cannot deny that I grappled with them.

The next year, I had a baby.  Oh excitement!  I could start trying to be the amazing mother, I had been shown.  I delved into the world of making Christmas magical.  We were on a college student budget mind you, and I had a husband wise enough to have taught me about interest - that we want to earn it, and not pay it, and therefore we must not spend that which we did not have.  So I had to be creative and resourceful, but Christmas would be celebrated and magical nonetheless.

Then, two years later, my life changed forever.  Something happened that made me start to question everything in my life.  I had to know what was real, what was truth.  I had to start living more completely according to that truth.

Continued tomorrow...