This morning I checked facebook to find that my eleven-year-old niece had written about how her little sis, (who is five), often forgets that their Dad is dead. When she teases her, the little one replies, "I'm gonna tell my Daddy on you!"

I

Thanksgiving Memories

I know how hard it is to have Thanksgiving without your Mom around. Today I put the CD of my Mom's songs in and listened to her voice singing the words she wrote. It was magical. We will always have the memories. Moms and Thanksgiving just seem to go together.

Since I had two, I'm gonna share a few.

My favorite memory of Paula, (my Step-Mom), was how Thanksgiving seemed to be the holiday made just for her. I LOVED to get to set the table for it. She LOVED to cook and we always had her FAMOUS green tomato pickles on Turkey-day. She introduced me to cranberry sauce that DIDN'T come out of a can. She always set the table with her beautiful brown and white expensive china on thanksgiving and it was a very formal affair. We had fruit salad with marshmellows and sour cream and cucumbers in sour cream and amazing stuffing/dressing with little green apples cut up in it. Her turkey was always juicy and never dry and her gravy was phenominal. Her mashed potatoes were made from red potatoes with a few of the skins left in and a scoop of sour cream, plenty of butter and parsely. I think I got to cook with her as much or more than most of you. I learned a few of her secrets.

On Sunday I watched an old episode of The Lawrence Welk Show. It was an old Thanksgiving special. Two of the songs Mama loved and sang often were featured. Sammy watched it with me and I told him his Gran loved those songs. They were "Bless This House" and "My Cup Runneth Over with Love". They were back to back and when the next song started Sam asked if my Mom loved that one too. So cute. Mom was, in my mind, an individual who knew how to express gratitude. She often played and sang those songs and many others that expressed to God and the mortals in her life her gratitude to them. Her fruit salad was amazing too! Green apples, mandarine oranges, pomegranites and whipped cream. Yum! Sierra says I have to make two. One with cream and one without, for her and the other healthy minded people in my fam. party poopers.

Mom used to cook thanksgiving dinners with several different birds. Not just a turkey. I think because Ben went hunting...there was goose, duck and morning doves. That was my favorite T-day of all time!

Ren Lyman's Life in Pictures

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6JEiFZ7Ag6o

Laughing Through the Grief and the Nightmares

I wrote this sometime in September and October. I'm slow to post. I guess I'm just now healing enough to share. Part of the healing IS sharing. So here are some more thoughts:

About September 1st

My siblings and I are all getting pretty good at death. Ren is our third sibling to die in less than two years. We cry and we laugh at the memories and at our own awkward mourning and bumbling with words as much as we shed tears. Someone told me that when you mourn your brain doesn’t work well. Holly and I agreed that between the two of us, we had half a brain.

Because there isn’t enough drama and excitement in our family, Sandra broke her arm the night before the funeral. She was outside with her little four-year-old granddaughter. Little Annah climbed on her back and she fell and pain shot through her body. We all helped her across the street to the hospital. What a funny sight that must have been but we were all so worried about her and she was in such pain. We all sat around the hospital while she was examined and had some more time to visit. She was taken care of, her arm set and given some serious pain medication. This made for some especially funny moments. Kathy and I laughed at how off tune she sang when she and Kathy did the backup singing for Alyssa’s song. She didn’t seem to notice or even care. Her arm was in a sling and she just sang as if she was on key, but she wasn’t.

Later on the next day when we were cleaning Holly’s house and Sandra was “chillin” on the recliner, she said to Mary, “Mary, I want to be a better brother to Luke.”
Mary replied, “Good Luck on that”.

Mary and I burst out laughing and it took Sandra about ten minutes to figure out what we were laughing about. Laughing felt so good.

Poor Sandra. She was in serious pain...and on serious meds. Today is her b-day. Please stay healthy sis.

October 1, 2010

I’m driving through the desert where Ren took his life. He took this same road. It is beautiful. It is early in the morning and the light is rosey and the autumn colors are glowing. Deserts get fall too you know. Ren didn’t see the beauty. Couldn’t.

October 11, 2010

Yesterday was Ren’s birthday. He would have been 43. I talked about him in Gospel Doctrine. I told the anthill story.
I’m considering writing a grant to fund the last quarter of my practicum and spend that time doing research on suicides in down winder communities.

I had a horrific dream in which Liz and I were at the base of a big building in a metropolis. There was a baby on the roof and he was toddling around and running away from his dad who was chasing him. We were so worried he would fall and we both were trying to help. We ran to the other side of the building and there was a big group of people who were watching from that side. We looked up and we couldn’t see him anywhere and people were asking what happened and if he fell or not. Then all of the sudden I saw him come down and he was falling so fast I couldn’t do anything about it and he landed right in front of me and I heard the thud and crunch of his bones and saw his little white face and his dark hair and then I woke up.

It was 5:55 in the morning.

I lay there breathing in a panic. I was so relieved it was a dream. Then I remembered Ren’s death. That baby was my brother. He was the first baby I ever knew. I lay there under the quilt. The darkness caved in on me. Doug was out of town and I was alone. I knew I wouldn’t go back to sleep. I didn’t try. I got up and opened my laptop and logged onto the internet. I missed my brother. I looked up the video I had uploaded to youtube. It was the montogue video of his life. One of the first pictures I saw was the photo of Mom holding Liz and Ren. He was only a few weeks old. It was the same face as the baby in my dream.

Thoughts About the Suicide of my Brother...

August 8, 2010

I can’t begin to put down on paper the last few days. I keep wondering how I’m supposed to handle this and then I realize that mercifully, I am beside myself. I feel like I’m on the outside looking in. Even the words seems strange. I say them and they are just too unreal.

The Spirit told me I needed to be to Ren what Kathy was to Ben. I felt that so strongly as I was driving home from Ben’s funeral last year. Kathy took care of Ben in the final stages of his battle with cancer. The problem was, Ren’s alcoholism was a much more subtle disease. There was no way to fight it. I tried what I knew to do. I feel like I failed.

Holly told me this morning that for the last few years Ren was surrounded by demons. One in particular has been on him continually.

August 14, 2010

It is all over. I am at Lake Powell with Doug and the kids and Dave and Susan’s family. I feel so guilty for simply being alive, let alone doing something I know Ren would have loved. But my role needs to be wife and mother too. I really don’t want to be here. I would so much rather be in Delta, going to Curly’s, the ballfield and everywhere else Ren spent time just so I could figure out what happened to him. Get some serious answers. I wish I could relive the last few weeks. I knew I needed to come visit him. I told Jeannie that before I got the phone call. Oh @#*^. I am so mad at him. At myself. At everyone. But I’m okay too.

Ren didn’t open up to people. Dad helped hundred with alcoholism yet his own son died of the disease.

August 14, 2010

Today is Matt’s birthday. I need to be a better sister to him. What if he died? I don’t even know him very well. I know Robin Better. This last week has done nothing but help me see how little I really knew Ren. I am so ashamed that I never even went to one of his ballgames. All of my brothers and sisters are saying that I was the one who was close to him and the pathetic thing about that is that when compared to the rest of them, it is true – but I wasn’t very close to him. It isn’t saying a whole lot.

Don’t ask “Why” Questions

It is easy to look around at others. I look at youth who have been blessed with loving families and parents that protected their children from abuse and stayed together and wonder why my brother got the shaft.

I wore one of Ren’s t-shirts for several days after his death. I was so sorry for not understanding just how much emotional pain he was in. Putting on his shirt felt symbolic of attempting to understand his pain.

His friends don’t understand the perspective his family has. They seem to want to blame someone. His best friend is a policeman who is in charge of finding missing people. There have been dozens of suicides in the last few years in our home town. Justin once said to Ren, “You wouldn’t do that to me would you? I would be the one to have to look for you.”

Ren promised that he would’t be added, “If I did, you wouldn’t find me.”

It took the search and rescue team 2 days to find my brother.

I texted him a message a few days before his death. I wrote, “Whazzup?” He texted back, “I don’t feel like talking.” I texted back, “I love you.”
The last thing I said to him was, “I love you.”
I’m so glad I sent that text.

But…

I wish so badly I had just called him and asked him what was wrong. I wish I could have helped him somehow. I knew I needed to talk to him. I will never again let someone get away with, “I don’t feel like talking right now.” I think that old adage, “When you don’t feel like praying is when you need to pray the most”
Also applies to discouraged people. When they don’t feel like talking is when they need to talk. But I didn’t call him and ask what was wrong. Instead, I sent my love in a text and gave a talk at his funeral.

Memories of Melvin Anderson Lyman M.D. (My Dad)

My earliest memories of Dad include waiting and watching for him to come home. When I finally saw the white cloud billowing up behind his vehicle on the dirt road, I knew he was on his way. At that point I would run to the back door to await his arrival. When he opened the door, I would jump out and “scare” him. He would pick me up and toss me and hug me and then we would settle into our evening ritual of reading the illustrated Book of Mormon. I loved this time with Daddy. Lizzie and Rennie and I would vie for the best place. It wasn’t difficult to get cozy and be near to Dad. His body was so large that three children seemed to not be much of a problem. Daddy often fell asleep on the couch and we all curled up around him and dozed with him. We felt so safe when he was home.

I remember not feeling safe and knowing I would be if I was with Daddy. Mom was in the hospital and often, Daddy would take us with him rather than leave us. When I was about five years old, I saw his car leaving without me! He must have been called into the office because I didn’t realize he was leaving until I saw his car heading down the dirt road into town. I ran after it calling to him and I remember getting as far as the turn of the road and realizing I had never gone that far so I might as well go the rest of the way. Sandra told me I walked all the way into Dad’s office when I was five. I believe it was on this occasion.

Dad loved corn on the cob. He loved working in the garden and we all loved being in it with him. He always made us work along side him. He taught a strong work ethic in both his example and his expectations. He was never idle. If he wasn’t working in town at the hospital or office or “Missionarying” (as he liked to call it), he was working on the farm. If he was resting on the couch, he was sleeping. He never just sat around and watched television, with the exception of M*A*S*H and Perry Mason at night. He often had one or two children on his lap as he did farm work on the tractor. He often woke in the middle of the night to deliver babies and to change the water when it was our turn to irrigate crops. I heard it once said that he had a farm to raise children, not crops. He did it well. We all worked. We fed cattle, drove tractors, burned weeds in the ditches with a blow torch attached by a long black hose to a propane tank.

I once complained to Dad that it wasn’t fair that my brothers had all the interesting chores and I was expected to do housework. I’m not sure it was a good idea to tell him that. He never again hesitated to give me a difficult outside chore. I shoveled lots of manure and hay.

Dad didn’t just work hard, he played hard too. He loved to waterski and was pretty good at it. We always had a boat, even if it was an older model. The key hung on a rack and when I was a teen I used the boat like other kids used the family car. I loved to waterski. Dad promised to teach me how when I was 12. I will never forget waiting for him to come home from work that day. He had promised me when he took me to school that morning that when he came home that evening, he would teach me to ski. I waited and waited. I believe a woman had gone into labor, but Dad did not break his word. When he got home, I could see how tired he was, but in my selfish 12 year old mind, I reminded him of his promise. The key came down from it’s hook and we were off. I will never forget the feeling of skiing for the first time. I was flying. My Daddy took the time to teach me how to fly!

Which reminds me of his airplane and the many adventures we had in it. One day just he and I were flying. I was in the co-pilot’s seat. He asked me if I wanted to fly. I said, “Okay”. He let go of the steering wheel and leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. I WAS THE PILOT!!! It was a great feeling of power. Dad knew how to teach children that their personal power was their own, but he was still close enough to help if we "messed up".

Kind of like my relationship with my Heavenly Father.

Thanks for teaching me Dad. Thanks for being you and loving me!

Little Boys and Bears in Alaska

November 06, 2010
This morning I dragged (drug?) myself out of bed and hopped in the shower and got all ready to go to church. I also hollered for the boys to get up and get going. A few minutes before it was time to go Dougie Junior came into my room and announced we had an hour extra because of daylights savings time.

woot woot!

So we totally forgetting about Fast Sunday and I promptly pulled out the griddle and made chocolate chip pancakes for the boys.

I had half a banana. My tummy still isn't up to par.

Then I was looking through an old journal and I came across this little piece of writing:

To My Boys:

"Living in Alaska has taught us some important lessons. There are wild animals living close to where humans live. Mother bears are very protective of their bear cubs. They teach their cubs to eat healthy food. Bear cubs use their noses to figure out where food is. Sometimes they smell something yummy coming from humans. Like if a family is out camping and they leave stuff open. Or if a family leaves their garbage out. The other day a man came home and found a bear rummaging around in his kitchen. The bear was pulling food out of the fridge and eating it. The man had to shoot the bear and kill it. Human food is not good for bears. It's not good for them because of the high level of salt and fat.

Bears were meant to eat berries and salmon and moose. That is their diet in the wild. But nutrition isn't what is concerning. The biggest danger is that if bears eat close to where humans live, they could be shot and killed. What if a Mama bear didn't teach her cubs to stay away from humans? What if she taught them to eat from garbage cans?

Dougie, Joey and Christian, your little minds are hungry to learn. Just like your body needs fuel in it so you can run and jump and ride bikes and be strong...your brain also is growing all the time. What you put into your mind will determine how your brain grows.

Just like a mama bear may occasionally allow her cubs to eat a cheeto that a camper left behind in the woods, I think it is okay for you to OCCASSIONALLY watch Sponge Bob Square Pants. But watching dumb television shows all of the time won't let your brain grow the way it should.

A baby bear that eats from garbage cans could be killed. Little boys who fill their minds with passive entertainment could eventually die spiritually. Your brain makes pathways as it grows. If you are getting lots of information from reading books, the pathways in your brains will grow toward good knowledge. Your brain is really amazing. It wants to learn and be entertained. It used to be that the only way little children were entertained was by playing outside or reading.

When you play in the sun and use the muscles in your body - It actually helps your brain to create pathways of experiencing God's beautiful world. Reading will help a brain grow well too.

It would be easier, and may seem like more fun to sit around and watch television. It may seem harder to read, at first. After you get into it, you will find it is MORE fun than movies. Your imagination will create a better movie in your mind than Walt Disney could ever create."

From my Journal of May, 2008

After I read what I wrote in my journal to the boys. I turned off the television, (they had already plugged in a Veggie Tales movie in anticipation of getting ready for church an hour early and having time to "kill" before church). I took one of my favorite books of the bookcase and began reading. They protested but I told them, "Parents are in charge of the choices, kids are in charge of the decisions. You can decide not to listen, but if you don't sit still and be quiet while I read, you won't have television privileges after church".

We read the first chapter of "The Yearling".

Lost Idealism

My Aunt Mary Lou Bronson Salter Galer

Christian is reading Calvin and Hobbs outloud to me as I waste away. I am so sick. I feel like barfing constantly. I feel guilty about not being at work and letting down my clients yet it simply is NOT possible!!!

So sorry clients.

I was asked to speak at my Aunt's Funeral. Here is what I wrote about her:

Mary Lou’s Life can be summed up in three words:
Service, Family and Determination
Service:
Mary Lou lived a life of service through her chosen profession.
It isn’t always easy to be a wife, mother, sister, grandmother and social worker.
Cindy said, “It was hard to be a social worker. She took the time to have rapport with her clients.”
Mary Lou was a woman who knew service:
When I think of Aunt Marylou I think of strength. I think of feminine wisdom and power through service.
President Thomas S. Monson said,
“To find real happiness, we must seek for it in a focus outside ourselves. No one has learned the meaning of living until he has surrendered his ego to the service of his fellow man. Service to others is akin to duty, the fulfillment of which brings true joy. We do not live alone—in our city, our nation, or our world. There is no dividing line between our prosperity and our neighbor's wretchedness. 'Love thy neighbor' is more than a divine truth. It is a pattern for perfection."
Aunt Mary Lou inspired others through her work
Suzannah Lyman (great niece) said:

Aunt Marylou was the first person who really inspired me to want to be a social worker. I remember talking to her at some family function or another and she told me that being a social worker was a hard job but that the benefits and the joy of helping others made it all worth it. Although I am no longer pursuing that career, I am proud of the degree in social work that I do have and still wish to serve others in any way I can. Aunt Marylou was an example to me of following your dreams no matter the obstacles.




Determination:
Thomas S. Monson said, “Death is one fact that no one can escape or deny. Because life is fragile and death inevitable, we must make the most of each day.”
Aunt Mary Lou lived her life to the fullest. Grandma and Grandpa lived in an old brick home with a porch on the front. They tore it down and built apartments there and Mary Lou came up to manage them. Mary Lou was trying so hard to be successful as a single mom. She had six children at the time. She was working as both a social worker and an apartment manager. She always had an earnest look on her face. She was determined. One day she decided her kids were going to have bikes for Christmas. She managed to buy bikes for them and put them in a shed. On Christmas Eve she went out to get them and she saw bike tires tracks and she knew they were gone. When she opened the door, sure enough, the bikes were gone. She went down to Grand Central and talked the owner into selling her six more bikes.
Aunt Mary Lou would do anything for her children.
She went back to school and got her degree in Social Work and was a brave social worker who confronted people who needed to be confronted and comforted those in need of comfort.
Not too long after Marylou got home from her mission she was riding her Indian pinto pony whose name was butterfly. Marylou was riding her and she bumped into a bees nest. The bees stung the pony so badly it died. Marylou was stung trying to save her pony.
Mary Lou had a great sense of humor. Once she was nursing George and Simon was staring and Mary Lou said, “Wanna try this?”
Family:
“Children of the same family, the same blood, with the same first associations and habits, have some means of enjoyment in their power, which no subsequent connections can supply...” ~Jane Austen, Mansfield Park, 1814
Sandra Olsen’s Memories: Aunt Mary Lou said once, “It is hard to grow up in a family of performers when you don’t perform much”, I told that to Aunt Ethel and she said, “what is she talking about? She performed as well as the rest of us”.
Simon said, “When Marylou was young she was absolutely gorgeous. (all of my sisters were). Men were crazy about them. Marylou could recite epic poems that seemed to go on forever. Hiawatha was completely memorized. She still remembered them and recited them to her children and grandchildren. All my sisters sang together in harmony. They sang all the songs of the thirties, forties and early fifties. They doted on me like crazy. They gave me a kitten once. They hid it under the covers of their bed. They were all in bed and they pulled beetle bomb (name of kitten) out and gave him to me. Dad would milk the cow and squirt milk into the kitten’s mouth. When I was little and home alone and scared, I would call Mary Lou.”
In the cookies of life, sisters are the chocolate chips. ~Author Unknown
Sister to sister we will always be,
A couple of nuts off the family tree.
~Author Unknown
Kathy said, “Aunt Mary Lou always had a smile, if not on her mouth, in her eyes, every time I saw her. I used to think she knew something funny about the world around us that I was missing. When I was a child she seemed to have a calm approach to any storm brewing around her. She always made me feel like I was an important person, even when I was little. I felt accepted by her even if I did something naughty. I loved going to her home, and I loved that it made my mom so happy to be around her. They had a very special relationship.”
When Sandra was a baby (she and Cindy were 2 days apart), Mom and Aunt Mary Lou went on a trip together. Mom couldn’t breast feed Sandra but for seven days Aunt Mary Lou did. Mary Lou and Mom were always close. Mary Lou would come to visit us wherever we were. She enjoyed our Mom and Mom enjoyed her. The conversations were always intellectual, sophisticated and kind. There was never any kind of sibling rivalry between them. They enjoyed sharing knowledge and their children.
Thomas S. Monson
“To understand the meaning of death, we must appreciate the purpose of life. The most glorious, comforting, and reassuring of all events of human history had taken place—the victory over death.”
Lollie’s thoughts: “Goodbye Sweet Aunt Marylou. Thanks for being you. You were an inspiration to your niece and fellow social worker. When I think of you, I think of feminine strength. Power through service comes to mind when I think of your face or feel of your spirit. I know you are with your Mama again...and mine. Here's a hug to all who love you.”

Kathy is giving the speech in my place. Cindy said she felt inspired to ask me. I think she was. I'm too sick to drive the 10 hours, (not to mention 3 sick kids), yet I still get to be a part of it all because I got to write the speech for Kath.

You know you are old when you think going to a funeral is a good time.

Yup. I'm old

and moldy.

sick as a dog...

I am sick.

Except why do they call it sick as a dog? Brinkley is never sick. He sleeps alot and never pushes himself tho...I could take a lesson from my pup.

There is sick, and then there is feeling like I do right now. I'm lying in bed next to my two sons who are also sick. The rule at our house is, if you are too sick to go to school, you can stay home and read or sleep. We are reading. We are taking turns reading Chicken Soup for the Teenager's Soul. First Drew, then Spenc, then me.

The plus side of being sick is that I effortlessly lost four pounds. Ah the silver lining of feeling like puking my guts out.

Plus I'm staying home from work...again. I really hate missing work. But I am so caught up in the challenges my clients are having, it is likely good. My professor told me the first step in getting past countertransference is recognizing that it is happening.

Now what???


Okay. I'm done blogging now.

My Brother Ren Lyman

Ren was born on October 10th, 1967. Family legend holds that he was meant to come to our family. The story of Ren’s life on earth began well before he was born. Mom often told him the story of his coming to our family. She said he came by detour. When mom was pregnant with my sister Elizabeth, she was standing by our big picture window and looking out across the front lawn. There on the gravel in the driveway she saw in her mind’s eye a little boy toddling bow-legged across the gravel. He fell but was not deterred. Mama felt his pain when he fell and longed to help him. He stood up again on his own and continued and then the vision was gone.
Mom assumed the baby she was carrying would be this little boy she saw.
When Lizzie was born, Mama knew there was another baby waiting for her. She was forced to have a hysterectomy after giving birth to Liz, so she applied to adopt a baby through LDS social services. He was adopted when he was nine days old and Mama adored him. I was three years old when Ren came along. She always told him he came to our family by way of detour but he was meant to be ours. One of my earliest memories was the day Rennie was sealed to us in the temple. He was all dressed in white and placed on the alter and we knelt around him and I knew he was as much my brother as those who shared my DNA.
I don’t remember a time when Ren wasn’t a part of my life. He could stand in a corner when he was a few days old. He learned to walk…er run when he was nine months old. My memories of him include a freckled turned up nose, course, straight hair, thick, long eyelashes. A little boy who was confident in his strong bowlegged little boy body and in his mothers love. Liz and I had Mama cut our doll’s hair because in our minds, all babies were boys. After all, ours was!
When he was not much more than a baby, he wandered off and found an ant hill to play on. Ren was fascinated by bugs, as most little children are. He played with them but they turned on him. When Lizzie and I found him, little Rennie was jumping up and down on the ant hill. He was covered with angry ants from head to toe and the ants were biting him and he didn’t know enough to get away. Lizzie and I tried to help him but we couldn’t get him off of the ant hill without being hurt by the bugs. We were afraid but we got Mama. Mama rescued him. She lifted him into her arms and brushed off the ants and bathed the bites and wrapped Rennie in a blanket and held him in her arms while she gently explained to him that he was jumping on the ant’s house and they laughed at how silly he was to do that. She rocked him until he was asleep and then gently laid him in his little bed. Then she found her quarto (little Mexican guitar), and she wrote this song:
Never Never No not ever
stand on ant hills
that's not clever
never never no not ever
that's not how we do!

It wasn’t easy on him to be named “LoRENzo” because he couldn’t say his “R’s”. He stuck out his lower lip when he was sad. He caught an eighteen inch catfish when he was four years old. Ren was my buddy in fun. When I couldn’t get Lizzie to join me in an adventure, I knew Rennie would. We sledded and ice skated in the winter and swam and flew kites in the summer. He was always moving. He seemed compelled to be moving and I loved that about him. We would often have swimming races. I beat him in races until I was about 12. He was nine when he started beating me to the bouy. He was amazing to watch on his bicycle. He spent hours making ramps and jumping off them. We all marveled at his ability to turn a simple bike into a springboard and gymnastic apperatice! Mom and I would sit on the porch and cheer at his ability to make a bike or motorcycle fly. Mama’s breath would catch when he would stand on his hands and ride by or do a wheelee for almost a block or some other dangerous move. He made anything athletic look easy.
Someone asked me the other day if Ren had a lot of baggage. I said, “No, he didn’t have any baggage. He had a Uhaul trailer he was lugging behind him throughout his life.”

Now my brother was a pretty tough guy. He lugged that trailer by himself for 42 years. There were those of you who helped him pull it, but as independent as he was, he didn’t accept much help. He was strong physically. He was gifted when it came to sports. We went skiing together last February. He hadn’t skied in 20 years and wore jeans. He was such a competent athlete he could do that. But he wasn’t strong enough to handle everything on his own.

A story is told about a dream a woman had whose brother committed suicide. She dreamed she was waiting for him in the designated meeting place and she had to wait a while for him to arrive. When he finally got there, he told her he thought he was taking a short cut but it only took him longer to get where he was going but he DID get there. He got home. It took a while, but he made it Home. (home with a capital H).

I believe, that just like Ren’s ant hill experience as a little boy, he was overpowered by the things of this world and couldn’t figure out how to get away from the stinging bites of despair. The Savior Jesus Christ often referred to himself in terms of a nurturer. He called himself a mother hen who would gather her chicks under his wing.

If there is someone you love who is struggling with addiction, you need to understand that you cannot rescue him. The reason AA works is because people turn their lives over to a “Higher Power”. When we attempt to be that power, we only get in the way of our loved one’s personal relationship with Jesus Christ. That doesn’t mean we ever give up. Years ago, President Thomas S. Monson challenged us to never give up on a loved one. My mind immediately went to my brother, Ren. I will never give up on him. I have not given up. He will be whole and I will be with him again. I know that. I will never give up on anyone I love. I am not capable of it. My hope for them is eternal. Hy hope is in Christ who loves them more completely than I do. He loves my brother Ren and is caring for him now in a way I could not.

Brenlee woke up early on the morning of Ren’s death, before most of us knew he was missing. She went into her mom’s room and asked, “Mommy, what is dead?” Holly explained death as when your body can’t breath and move anymore. I want to further explain to Brenlee the concept of death.

Here is Ren’s baseball glove. My hand represents Ren’s spirit. Before he came to earth, he was in heaven with God and Jesus. When he came to earth, (I slipped my hand in Ren’s glove), his spirit entered his physical body. He was very good at getting his physical body to do wonderful things. It could run very fast and ride motorcycles and play ball and pool and darts. It was very good at bowling, skiing, horseshoes and pretty much any sport he tried. When Ren died, (I slipped my hand out of the glove), his spirit returned home to heaven.

Brenlee, at the age of four, understands her Daddy’s eternal nature without any of us having to explain it to her in depth. We were driving around the other day, Brenlee and I, and I told her, “Brenlee, your daddy loved you very much.” She replied, “He still does”.

The other night I fell asleep thinking about Rennie as a little boy on that ant hill. I dreamed that bugs, spiders and other creepy crawling things were everywhere. They were hiding in ordinary things and were taking over. I woke with a firm understanding that things had taken over Ren’s life…his spiritual life, much the way the ants took him over physically when he was a little boy.
I thought about his little boy body being attacked by ants much the way his little boy soul was attacked and overcome by the darkness and demons. All of us are simply devastated. But Ren was overcome. He did not do this to us. He just thought he was taking a shortcut.
Please don’t give up on someone you love. I have not given up on Ren. I know with all of my heart that he is being cared for now. Just like Mama bathed him and wrapped him in a blanket, he is being held in the arms of his Savior. He is finally being comforted by the only power that truly comforts. Like Mama did, I think Jesus is laughing with him over the silly mistakes, but he is also unhooking the Uhaul trailer and tossing it away.


I love my brother. I always will. I’m so thankful for the knowledge I have that he is not judged by a vengeful God, but by a loving father who knows of his trials.

“It should … be remembered that judgment is the Lord’s; he knows the thoughts, intents, and abilities of men; and he in his infinite wisdom will make all things right in due course.” Bruce R. Mckonkie


There is no one to blame for Ren’s death. Our quest now will be to be present in the lives of his daughters. Ren won’t be here to bear their burdens. We will best honor him by allowing God to heal our hearts so our energy can be channeled in loving his daughters.

Too Young to Marry

My baby girl is thinking of getting married. Married. to a boy...well, she thinks he's a man. She is delusional. I'm coming to terms with it. She brought him home last weekend. He asked Doug for his permission to marry his daughter. He asked in a very Rocky kind of way. He stuck his head in the bedroom door and said, "Hey, you got a cute daughter, mind if I marry her?"

Doug actually said, "Okay".

I'm the one who put him through the ringer. I'm also the one who had an overwhelming feeling of love for the kid equivalent to the emotion that welled up in me each time I found out I was going to have a baby.

He is really a sweet kid. Come September, I'm going to be the official mother of eight. Count 'em, eight.

He offered eight cows for Sierra. I settled for him taking care of her for eternity. That is a more expensive option on his part. He is simplly adorable. My grandchildren will be adorable.

Thoughts on Mother's Day

Sometimes it feels like mothering is about doing chores. Since Dougie Junior calls me "Mom the bom", I've come up with some terms that help me understand my role better. Being "The BOM" means 3 things:

1. The B.O.M. (not bureau of land management), stands for Breathless Of Women. She is the mom who runs around like a chicken wither her head cut off because she spreads herself too thin and focuses more on getting things done than on being in the moment. The B.O.M. thinks of herself as a human-doing rather than a human being.

2. The bomb is closely related to the B.O.M. and she is constantly ticking. She may explode at any time. She identifies herself as a victim of her circumstances and becomes a perpetrator by exploding. She explodes as a result of forgetting her role as a nurturer including the importance of nurturing herself.

3. The balm is a calming, nurturing influencein her home. She has lots of control because she is a comforter first and a corrector second. She has a full bucket and she is able to share freely!!!

Letter to Delta Air Lines

Dear Delta,
On Saturday, May 8th, my daughter arrived home. Her arrival at the Billings Airport was almost miraculous. I want to thank you for helping that miracle happen.
Rachael was stranded in Paris and was scheduled to fly into SLC on friday, she missed her ride home with her siblings from Salt Lake to Billings. When she flew into Salt Lake on Saturday afternoon, she immediately spoke to a woman wearing a red jacket who helped her get to Billings. Poor Rachael was simply exhausted. She had flown from Scotland to Paris to Minneapolis to Salt Lake. One flight had been cancelled and she had waited in airports or been on planes for over 48 hours. I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for re-enlisting your fabulous red coats!!! When Rachael finally arrived in Billings we all were so thrilled. We joked about the army of red coats who battle for us at Delta Air Lines!!!

Laura Debenham
lolliejoy@yahoo.com

Rachael Debenham's Mission

We finally know where Rach is going on her mission!

I'm so sorry to keep you all in suspence. She wanted to be the one to tell but she gave me permission to tell the fam on the web site:

Don't laugh too hard:

Rach has been called to serve in CLEVELAND, OHIO!!!

Specifically in the Kirtland Visitor's Center!!!

Through a series of miraculously events Rachael was able to fly home on Saturday. We hiked to our rock above the Billings temple and said a prayer and watched Rachael open the envelope which had sat idle while she toured scotland. Initially, Rach was very dissappointed. She had her heart set on going somewhere exotic, specifically, Asia.
Her dissappointment did not last. She recieved a father's blessing and is comforted knowing she is needed where she is sent.

Her parents are relieved she isn't going to a third world country. The fact that we already know the area well is such a comfort. After all the moving around we have done it is a relief that she is going somewhere where we know many of the people she will be working with.

Rachael has a foot-in-the-door already with many of the people she will teach. She was a child there and picked strawberries on the John Johnson farm, picked apples there too, starred in the Footsteps of Faith play in 1997 and charmed all the African American children in her class with her memorization of the Gettysburg Address.

Brother Carl Anderson was the director of the Institute that I taght at in East Cleveland and he is the brother who showed Liz and I where Edward Partridge's home was in Painsville. He also is who the brethren turned to when it was decided to build a visitor's center in Kirtland. His daughter Emily was our babysitter there and she guessed Rachael would serve in Cleveland!

Rachael's Grandma Lilamae says there is someone in Cleveland who needs her. Rachael's Aunt Liz says that missionary work can be done everywhere on the planet, including Delta, Utah. Our Bishop's son asked Rachael what she did wrong to be sent to Cleveland. Rachael's mom says the souls in Cleveland have worth equal to those anywhere else on the planet that may seem more exotic...and quite honestly, Cleveland was another planet to me because of the difference in culture there!

Rachael already knows the dialect. She speaks Jive fluently and learned from the strong matriarchal culture there that women deserve to be strong and have a right to stand up for themselves and others when needed.

She wants to go to law school in the east and is hoping to be able to do research on her p-days.

We are all thrilled. Especially me. I will be able to picture my baby girl working in Kirtland, teaching people who may be related to her or she knew as a child.

Wahoo!

Oh. She leaves on June 23rd. Her farewell will likelly be in her ward in Provo at 8:30 A.M. on June 20th. Hope you can all come!

Has it really been that long?

Wow. Time flies. I haven't blogged on for over two weeks! Naughty me.

I've missed you blogees. No. My television is not the culprit. Little did I know when I swore off tv and went to grad school that my practicum and studies would take over my life. The irony is, I chose this program because classes are only one day a week and it seemed like the least invasive to my family. But lo, the path to MSWhood is packed with work I didn't even know I would love so much.

Lucky for me, just when I was at the point of total and complete exhaustion, my eight year old got a fever!!! um. That didn't sound quite like I meant it. poor little guy. The beauty of doing my internship with The Family Tree is that family comes first to them too. A sick kid is a completely acceptable excuse for not being there.

yesterday

"In Mormon culture females are supposed accept a calling. They are to be constantly smiling over their family of five. They are supposed to take supper across the street to an ill neighbor and then put up with their husband when he comes home from work and smile about it the whole time. There is this sense that Mrs. Jones down street is doing the same thing, and there is this undercurrent of competition. To be a good mother and wife, women have to put on this mask of perfection. They can't show their tears, depression or agony,"

From ABC News

I had the most depressing day yesterday. My brilliant daughter is slowly being convinced by the extended family and mormon culture that getting higher education is pointless for women.

I want to puke.

Alaska Uses More Duct Tape Than Your State

I promise to continue with the Doug and Lollie love story, but first I have to get this off my chest...

I just found out about a job opening in Alaska. dang. Problem is, its for me, not Doug. It is a job counseling families of the military. man. I would love to do that. I did do that when I was there. I miss my adopted home state. I wonder if I will ever get back up there again.

I miss how resourceful people are up there. They have to be. They are so isolated.

Alaskans use duct tape on everything. To apply the foil to the windows in summer, (to keep the midnight sun away so kids will sleep), to appy directly to skin in winter, (to avoid frost bite), even to duct tapes friends to walls who do a snow dance and bring on a spring blizzard.
sometimes I really miss you Alaska.

The Big Proposal

At Thanksgiving Doug asked me to join his family in Lindon and ride up with him. He was taking me home to meet his fam. Hmmm.
On the drive up there was a white-out blizzard. Cars were going off the road right and left. We passed one car and there was a man standing beside it. We passed him by and both of us had a VERY strong impression to turn around and give him a ride. It was tangible. In retrospect, I can’t help but wonder if all seven of our children were in the cab of the truck telling us to turn around! The man turned out to be the treasurer of University of Utah. We had a delightful conversation with him and dropped him off at the next town so he could take care of things.
I froze to death sleeping on the couch in the Debenham house where the Dad liked to keep costs down by turning off the heat at night.
But I LOVED Lila Mae.
Hmmm.
I can’t remember what we fought about. But by Christmas, we broke up. I told him I could NEVER marry him and there was no more point in dating. He mourned over the loss by taking out Christine Oldham (she asked him out) while I hung out with the Baileys in Washoe Valley. Kathy said I talked nonstop about Doug that whole Christmas vacation. I don’t remember that.
But only a few days after returning home, Doug was at my door. He said he got a phone call from the president of Dixie College and he requested that Doug bring me with him for a meeting.
Right.
I only partly believed him, but went along for kicks. Alton Wade invited us in to his office and sat us down. He read a letter he had received from the Treasurer of the University of Utah. That man told President Wade about being picked up by us and that his opinion of Dixie College was immensely improved by the impression Doug and I made on him. All he had was our names and that we went to Dixie so he asked President Wade to give us this check for thirty dollars along with the direction that it be used to go out on a nice date.
Dang.
We HAD to go out on a date again. Neither of us wanted to. (Well, Doug said he didn’t), But the president of the school said we HAD to. So we did.
And we went on lots of speech competitions. LOOOOOOONG bus rides and longer talks. We were buddies. He was my best friend and the person I wanted to talk to about everything. Everybody on the speech team was witty and clever and we all had a great time together. We were like family and we teased each other and played jokes on each other constantly.
But I was dating other guys as well. Like David Dispain, who was incredibly talented with music and his dad was an institute teacher. I was on the LDSSA counsel and got to meet all the top notch young men fresh off their missions. I was pretty sure Dave was getting ready to pop the question, so I was really glad when Doug asked me to go out with him for a Saturday date to Vegas. I really needed to have a good heart to heart with my best friend.
And the fact that we were going to Vegas was great because it would be our last date! Our first date was to Vegas, and our last date would be to Vegas. I even told Doug that on the drive down in his rusty orange truck. He just smiled. We listened to John Denver songs and Doug changed the words to “Ain’t it Good, to be back home again, sometimes, this old truck, seems like a long lost friend.”
He thought he was so clever. I thought it was funny that he thought that was clever, so I laughed. I always get his humor and he always can make me laugh. I think I said so. Mostly I talked about Dave Dispain and asked Doug's advice on how to handle the relationship. He didn't really talk too much.
We went out to eat at a German Restaurant that is no longer there. Then we went over to the big hotel with the naked statue in it. I didn’t really want to go inside but Doug was looking for somewhere quiet with atmosphere where we could sit and talk. He said he had something very important he wanted to talk to me about.
I was goofing off. Being silly. (Keep in mind how old I was. I was actually ACTING MY AGE), but I was completely clueless about what was going on with Doug.

Finally, we found a booth by the pool. I noticed it had a bar that hung across the top of it to hold out an umbrella. It looked very much like a jungle gym to me. I swung myself up and hung by my knees. He finally got me sitting upright and he said, “There is something really important I need to ask you”.
He pulled out a blue velvet ring box and my heart went to my stomach. I opened the box and inside was a paper ring cut out of a magazine add.
What a relief.
It was all a big joke. I laughed so hard there were tears coming out of my eyes. Finally I paused to take a breath and realized Doug wasn’t laughing.
Oops.
He asked me to marry him.
He had a little note that explained the paper ring, (he wanted me to pick out my own) and I read it and felt rather foolish.
I was subdued and didn’t talk much the whole ride home except to ask him important questions like “Did you sunburn as a baby? Because Kathy’s little blond kids get terrible sunburns and I don’t want to have to worry about my babies getting easily burnt.”
He dropped me off and we agreed I would think and pray about it.
I thought but I didn’t really pray. I mean, this was ridiculous. He was five years older than me and pure logic said it was insane to marry so young and I was planning on serving a mission so of course the Lord wouldn’t want me to marry Doug Debenham.
I mean, c’mon! He was Doug Debenham!!!
Besides that, he was too cute to be righteous and his cars and clothes were too posh for humility. Sure he would make a great father but he was a hunk and his jaw has that firm thrust to it and I really loved his sea green eyes and I just couldn’t trust how I felt around him. He smelled incredible and sometimes I would get all jittery and flub up on speeches. My heart would get all pitterpattery and I just wasn't as competent when he was around!
No. the answer had to be no.
So I found him the next day and said so.

Never Kiss on the First 11 Dates...

Then he went to Alaska for the summer. We wrote a couple of letters. Not sure I actually sent them.
I saw him at the opening social in Snow Canyon. He was gorgeous. I knew he was entirely too good-looking to be humble. Not to mention the car he drove. He also had a beat up old truck and I preferred to go places in it rather than his jacked up black camero with the skunk stripe. But at the opening social he had his motorcycle. He gave me a ride home and took off in such a way that I HAD to hold on tight to his waist.
Oh the chemistry.
But still no kissing.
We asked our speech coaches if we could do a duet act together for competition. After talking it over they decided that it wouldn’t be a good idea to pair us up because things could get ugly if our relationship went sour. We later discovered that Christine Oldham had her eye on Doug for her duet act. She had her eye on him for other things too, but of course the coaches didn’t know that. Christine was the golden child of the squad. She was there on a full drama scholarship and was homecoming queen and of course, beautiful.
So I was paired with Mike Mayo. We went back and forth that year with Doug’s act winning in one competition and mine winning at the next. He had a pretty decent Informative speech on healthy eating but for ever trophy he got, I got three or four. I competed in everything. Doug got the grades though. He took physics with the head cheerleader and helped her with her homework. She is a physician in St. George now.
There were always women trailing Doug. It was disgusting. So I basically ignored him, thinking I couldn’t really compete with those gals. It was the best thing I could have done. I was the first girl who didn’t give him the time of day and he was very enticed by that.
He went to a lot of effort to ask me to a dance I already had a date too. That was good for him. I beat Christine Oldham out of Regional Speaker of the Tournament. That was good for me.
I was working for a family with six children. I cleaned their house and tutored their 12 year old. (Of the guys that stopped by to chat in the library where we had our tutoring sessions, Doug was his favorite). They hired me to babysit over a long weekend. I asked them if Doug could come over and take us to a movie. That was where I discovered Doug’s way with children. We piled everybody in the back of his rusty orange pick-up and took them to the drive-in. Doug joked that I was his wife and these were our six children. I thought he was hilarious.
That night we talked late into the night. I told him things about myself that I had shared with nobody but Liz up to that point in my life. It really bugged me that I would do that, but I found the words pouring out of me like a river whose flow could not be stopped.
He just listened and comforted and never told a soul.
After about 12 dates we finally had our first kiss. It was in the doorway of his boss’s house. It was very magical. I was leaning in the doorway holding a big bowl of something. I was just looking at him and he came up and gently kissed me. I think there was an orchestra playing in the wooded lot next door.

Dixie College Romance

12 years after the first time I met Doug, our paths crossed again.

I was practicing with the dance team at Dixie College. We were getting ready for a big performance at a basketball game at Snow College. Our Advisor called my friend Janet over. Janet was the most responsible college aged kid I knew. At 18, she was the manager of Taco Time and made regular car payments. With our Advisor was a guy. Jan and I had been talking about him. You could tell he was cute if it weren’t for the beard and plaid flannel shirt. Especially the beard.

Nothing scratchy about flannel.

Our Advisor asked Janet if she would be willing to give this guy a ride to Snow College. Janet agreed and came back and told me. I thought, “What a mooch”. But I knew it would not affect my status as Jan’s bff. (I was still sitting in the front seat)

Doug sat in the back on the ride to Snow between two gorgeous gals. He was especially interested in the brunette to his left but I was the person who helped him feel comfortable and chatted easily with him on the drive. I guess he was impressed by that. We talked about Delta when he found out that was where I was from. Have you ever noticed that EVERYONE has some connection to Delta? Doug wasn't impressed that I didn't know his brother Dan. He was going to highschool there when our fam did our famous Arizona stint. He entertained us all with stories of Dan's fiascos in Delta.

When questioned about why he needed a ride Doug would simply answer that he was visiting a “friend”. He never mentioned it was a GIRLfriend.
We stopped for a meal at McDonalds and for some strange reason I took a picture of him. I still have it. Doug looking back at me in a beard and plaid flannel.
Fast forward several months.

There was this really cute guy in two of my classes. His name was Rick Congdon. He was not a member of the church and I was always trying to convert him. We had speech and swim together. We debated evolution and saw each other in our bathing suits. He kept telling me about this friend of his. He said we would be perfect for each other and wanted to set us up.
As if.

One day he drove past my apartment as I was walking home and said he was having a barbecue and his friend would be there and I just had to come. I was busy. I said no. He kept it up and finally I gave in and a date was set for a Saturday toward the end of the school year.
Rick brought his friend into Taco Time to meet me. He had previously pointed me out on campus to Doug and they even said “hi” to me as I went past. Doug says I greeted him too. I have no recollection of this.
But I remember the Taco Time meeting. His beard was gone and his hair was blonder. He basically looked like your typical St. George Haughty. He and Rick were really into weight lifting and liked to show off their muscles.
I was enticed but cautious.

On our first date I saw naked people everywhere. I took it as a sign that this guy was entirely too worldly for me. We drove down to Vegas (I’m not sure I had ever been), and we saw Michael Angelo’s David, then a gal at the side of the pool was sunbathing topless and on the way home we stopped at a swimming hole only to catch some Mexicans enjoying a skinny dip.

Phee-you

After that, we spent lots of time together. Four days to be exact. We basically went on four dates in four days. I discovered he had just joined the speech team. So had I but I made sure he knew I was joining it anyway. (I didn’t want him to think I was following him around.)
I helped him with his campaign as he ran for vice president of the student body. I spelled his name wrong on a poster. Never thinking one day that name would be mine.

Doug is at the Iron Dog in Alaska. I miss him...

How I met Doug



The first time we met I was about 7 and he was around 12. I remember lying on the warm cement by the side of the city pool in Delta. It was the most wonderful place to be in the summertime. The cement was warmed by the sun and it felt great to just lay there and soak it up, even as a 7 year old. The only thing I didn’t like about going swimming at the city pool is that the lifeguards all took note when the Lyman kids came in because they had to keep an eye out for Robin. He had a cork in his tracheotomy tube and could drown if the cork came out. (Puts a new twist on the phrase, “put a cork in it”, doesn’t it?) Knowing that the lifeguards were all very aware was one thing, but having to bear the embarrassment of a whistle blow and yell, “Everybody out of the pool! Robin Lyman lost his cork!”, was something else in deed.
I remember the mix of emotion as I watched Robin and the lifeguard look for the black rubber cork. On one hand my beloved bro could DIE by getting water in the hole in his neck and on the other hand I could die of embarrassment.
But that’s another story.
In the end I decided I would much rather have Robin and the embarrassment wasn’t really that big of a deal.
The city pool was one of the few places where kids could play at adult social interaction. Mostly, I observed. But I learned a lot in my observing. One day, I noticed a group of boys who were older than me. They had taken over the diving board and were having a ball showing off and doing flips and dives that put us home folk to shame. I was impressed with their athletic ability but completely turned off by the audacious way they acted. They shouted and walked and dived in a very cocky manner. But they were interesting enough that I remembered watching them and wondering who they were.
Years later, Doug would tell me of his summer visits to his Aunt Dorothy’s house and trips to the swimming pool. I have to let my imagination fill in the gaps, but I doubt he gave a second glance to a skinny seven-year old who belly flopped off the end of the board and doggy paddled to the side.
But I can’t help but wonder and I can’t WAIT to see the great video tape in the sky that Heavenly Father keeps in his family room.

Melvin Lyman M.D. on Homosexuality

I have to give an oral presentation on conversion therapy which is where a therapist tells a client being homosexual is all about behavior and choice and you can be therapized out of it.

I have to present about the ethical issues behind 'forcing' clients into hetrosexuality. In other words, it is wrong to tell a person it isn't right to be gay or lesbian.

I really don't know where I stand on the issue.

There are studies that "prove" a genetic or physiological component of homosexuality and there are studies that "prove" it is all about behavior.

So I'm figuring it all out. Last night I couldn't sleep for anything. I opened about 12 different books and couldn't really get into any of them. I'm so sick of textbooks.

Then I came across my dad's book, Confessions of a Country Doctor. I lay awake for two more hours reading about adventures in medicine. My Dad was an amazing man. You know the movie It's a Wonderful Life? Well, my dad was the George Bailey of family practice medicine.

Here is what he wrote about homosexuality:

The Big Lie - Justifying Perversion

Homosexuals have made it very clear that by juxtaposing their lifestyle to "civil rights" they expect to gain equality. Their argument goes something as follows, "I was born gay and therefore I cannot be expected to act contrary to my nature. Therefore, when government, the military, or even private individuals or institutions impose restrictions on my basic nature, I am denied a civil right to equal treatment under the law." Our media and others find these arguments persuasive and even fair-minded, bit they are simply not true. The small percentage of people who have the tendency to homosexuality is not one bit different than similar small groups who have tendencies to other perverse activity.

What is Perverse?

Webster's Unabridged Dictionary of the English Language defines "perverted":
1) Changed to or being of an unnatural or abnormal kind; 2) Turned from what is right; wicked; misguided; distorted.
Will Durant wrote a very powerful book, the Lessons of History. In his chapter "Biology and History," he states categorically, "The third biological lesson of history is that life must breed. Nature has no use for organisms, variations, or groups that cannot reproduce abundantly."

By labeling homosexual practice as "perverse" or "Unnatural," we must be fair and quickly remember that it is only one form of perversion. Consider gluttony and kleptomania. Both are innate tendencies which pose particular and, at times, overwhelming problems to the people affected by them, but when acted upon, leave an entirely different effect on society at large. The problem for society comes when a particular form of perverse activity is given moral equivalence to nonperversion. Since we cited it already, let's use kleptomania as an example. If I am caught stealing due to this overwhelming human tendency which I couldn't resist, should I be allowed to whip out my Official Kleptomaniac's Card, show it to the floor walker at the department store and then expect an apology because he collared me adn violated my civil rights? Aren't these all well-known tendencies among the population at large, and couldn't a case be made that each of them might well affect a percentage of the whole equality idea that is currently claimed by the homosexuals?

He goes on. But you get the general idea.

What do you think? I'm forming an opinion. and a powerpoint.

Alaska Songs

I'm missing Alaska today. Doug is up there running the Iron Dog. Here are some song about my old home state:

Nuka, Nuka (sung to "Daisy, Daisy" or "Bycicle built for Two")
note: Mistrukas are nesting dolls, Nuka means 'little sister' and a bidarka is the Russian name for kayak.

Nuka, Nuka
Warm in her coat of fur
My mistruka
will be carved just for her
It won’t be a lonely winter
we've polished off each splinter
and you'll look sweet
tucked in your seat
of a bidarka built for two


Sled Dogs (Sung to the tune "School Days")

Sled dogs, sled dogs
sleep without a bed dogs
curled up tight in a ball of fur
you don't complain while I'm saying 'brrr'
I was the dude behind the sled
Salmon in tow to keep you fed
Since you pulled me to Nome
no kids are dead
so thanks for the ride of my life!


Mush Little Doggies (sung to the tune "Hush Little Baby")

Mush little doggies
hurry along
You'll reach Nome
while I'm singin' this song
Curl up tight when the
wind begins to blow
Don't be deterred by
the ice and snow

Mush little doggies
don't you bark
I can start a fire
with a single spark
You can eat dried salmon
I'll have the stew
a tent for me
and a coat of fur for you

On Moving All Over the Planet

At last count I have lived in eight different states and moved countless times

The state I’ve lived in most is the state of limbo. Wondering where the next place we are going to move is.

It’s not that my mate is a derelict or running from the law or anything as remotely interesting as that. No. he is a radiation oncologist. A doc who nukes people for a living and can only live where there is a million dollar piece of equipment used soley for the nuking of people. Consequently, we have to live where a population not only has a high incidence of cancer but a population base high enough to warrant a radiation oncologist in its midst.

I’m an almost social worker. I can pretty much live anywhere and get paid squat. But we live off the money he makes and for some strange reason, the kids like food, fuel and shelter.

I’ve become an expert on packing up and shipping out. In past generations, mothers didn’t bond with infants because they knew the chances of the child not living very long were pretty good. Why bond when you could lose that bond so readily? The same phenomenon has taken place with neighbors. I have learned through self-preservation not to get too close to the folks I live next to. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I say hello and accept halibut and take over Christmas goodies and attend the occasional garage sale. But we don’t have dinners together.

Forrest Gump put it best when he said, “Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you are going to get.” Well, I’m one of those chocolate eaters who takes a bite and if I don’t like what I get, I put it back and try another one. If I’m in the mood for caramel and I get nougat, I keep trying. If I’m in the mood for nut and I get caramel, I’ve been known to leave the caramel and take a bite of nut, even though I actually LIKE caramel.

Every box of chocolates given to me for Christmas, Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, and Birthdays, (my sweetheart isn’t much for shopping) is thrown away with half eaten chocolates. Unless, of course, the kids get to them.

So, if life IS like a box of chocolate, maybe people can be classified into types of chocolate eaters. If you are the type who studies the underside of the lid in order to discover the mystery of the insides of the chocolate, you are likely to be the kind of person who studies maps, googles school districts, emails chambers of commerces before choosing where to live and actually staying there. If you are the kind of person who takes a bite and feels like you have to finish it, whether you like it or not, besides weighing more than you should, you are likely to be the kind of person who digs in where you are and sticks it out, whether you actually like the area or not.

But if you are like me, you not only eat chocolate in a random way, you move fairly often.

Love Day

My valentines day was mildly dissappointing. Except for the amazing valentine from an adorable little girl at church. When I showed it to the men in my life...(Doug and my three boys), They all looked fairly sheepish. Joey said it looked like the picture Napoleon Dynomite drew for LaFondah. I know. He got the characters mixed up. I loved it. It was a portrait of me. Yes my lips were huge and orange, but there was evidence of great care in drawing it and it was the ONLY valentine I recieved.

I know. What am I complaining about? Doug took me to Maui. Lila gave me a chocolate truffle. Joey and Christian wrote on candy from their classroom stash. The most fun I had with V-day was the creation of care-packages for my girls in college. I sent them treats from Hawaii along with stuffed animals of the valentine variety, hotpads, jewelry and dish towels. It is true. It is more blessed to give than to recieve.

But I think I will go out and get a nice boquet of roses and tell Doug that is what he got for me for valentine's day.

In Honor of the Olympics 2010

Okay bleaders. Now don't freak out. I gave in.

Yes.

It happened.

I hooked up the antenna to our living room television.

What can I say. I'm 100% marshmellow. My boys wanted to watch the Olympics. Hey now. Don't be like that! I didn't go back on my word. I'm still cableless!!!

He he he he

Now don't get all worried that I am going to give in to the Oprah side of the force or anything like unto it. Namely, Ellen.

These never held the attraction to me the history channel and HGTV did. Not to worry.

And thankfully, Sponge Bob is still banned from the home!

Montana Women's Prison

I had an epiphany. Yesterday I met with my practicum supervisor. We talked about the possibility of starting a Toastmaster’s club in the woman’s prison. Since it came up, I’ve had signs placed in front of me time and again that there is some amazing work to be done within the prison.

I read an article in the Ensign about Joseph Smith’s experience in liberty jail. I was explaining to my daughter what I learned and I heard myself say, “when your body is imprisoned your heart and mind are freed up to learn.” (Isn’t it interesting the things you hear yourself say when you teach by the spirit).

I read an article online about the toastmaster’s club in the Montana woman’s prison from 2003. It spoke of the amazing growth these women experienced as a result of participating in public speaking in a safe setting. Their confidence soared as they experienced success in front of an audience and their future job skills were enhanced as they learned to carry themselves verbally and non.

I’m so ashamed of myself. Before I read this article, I found myself stereotyping these women in my mind rather than allowing them to be unique individuals.

Another intern told me of an acquaintance who was an inmate and told her, “You have no idea what an important work The Family Tree is doing by helping the women in prison learn to parent, coaching them through their childbirth experiences and creating the opportunity for them to spend time with their children.”

When she spoke of that, I thought about Christ’s words to his disciples in Matthew 25

"When the Son of man shall come in his glory, and all the holy angels with him, then shall he sit upon the throne of his glory: And before him shall be gathered all nations: and he shall separate them one from another, as a shepherd divideth [his] sheep from the goats: And he shall set the sheep on his right hand, but the goats on the left.

Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: For I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me. Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungered, and fed [thee]? or thirsty, and gave [thee] drink? When saw we thee a stranger, and took [thee] in? or naked, and clothed [thee]? Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee? And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done [it] unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done [it] unto me.

What an amazing opportunity I have. To work with these precious women!!!!!!!!

Note to self:

1. Expect them to live up to their full potential
2. Remember they have likely lived in situations where they have been prone to manipulate and keep your guard up, but love them too.
3. I know, tricky balance, but you can do it!!!!!!!!!!!

Finding Faith

Can faith be found in concrete things?
Crosses, prayer shawls, rosary beads
Yamikas, CTR rings
Wayward coins and mustard seeds

Can faith be found in doing good?
Casseroles and bended knees
Doing things that Jesus would
Calming arguments and seas?

Can faith be just a simple thought?
Planted, but not just left there
Just a meager speck of hope
Nurtured, tended with great care

My faith is still rather small
Just a seedling in my heart
It will blossom, bloom and grow
If I choose the better part

by Laura Debenham

Valentines Day Newsletter AKA news - later

Dear Friends and Fam,

Hello from the Montana Debenhams previously known as the Alaska Debenhams. We are living in our 8th State. We are slow up here in the colder climates. When we left Alaska one of you said we are moving to the only state colder. How very prophetic. Molecules move slower in the cold. I remember Max Rose teaching me this fact by pointing out that boiling water bubbles because those molecules are jumping around while cold makes them hold still and freeze. My excuse for sending out a Valentine newsletter instead of Christmas is the weather. So much for global warming. It is 12 degrees below zero right now. We bought a house in a great neighborhood that was built in 1973. We love it but it is a project. We are hoping it will build some character in three strong-willed-in-need-of-projects-to-channel-energy Debenham boys.

Doug was thrilled to have more time off but that didn’t last long. He is now working two jobs to support five college goers. He is three days a week in Vegas and two days a week in Billings. We miss him but my adorable 21 year old niece Susannah moved in and is keeping us from being lonely. On weekends Doug makes up for lost time by taking the boys skiing and shoveling snow. He spent weeks finishing our driveway and is planning on taking on our tennis court as soon as the snow melts. Speaking of finishing…Doug finished all of the Board requirements and the St. George Marathon. He came in 25 seconds from qualifying for the Boston Marathon at 3:36:24 (For those of you who don’t speak marathonese, that is 3 hours, 36 minutes and 24 seconds).

Lollie mourned the loss of Lila when she went off to BYU Idaho. She sat in Lila’s empty bedroom looking at old pictures and sobbing and writing sappy poetry for three days after which she pulled herself up by the snoopy socks and enrolled in grad school. She is studying Social Work this time. Check out her blog for details of life from Lol’s laughing out loud perspective. Try not to laugh. I double dog dare ya. Lauradebenham.blogspot.com

James and Marie (24 & 24) are engaged!! They will marry sometime next year. Bren proposed on Christmas day. Em is finishing her degree in either Vegas or Flagstaff so they only have one more winter left in Alaska. They are both at UAA fulltime and holding down jobs as waiters. Bren also sings and plays pianos for weddings and corporate events. We miss them both like crazy and not just their gourmet cooking!

Elizabeth (21) is graduating from BYU with her Bachelor’s in Social Work in April. For part of her internship she directed a choir made up of disabled young men who all adored her. Rach was released from her RS prez calling and moved to a cute little duplex for her last semester. She sings and plays the flute for the Celtic choir and will be going to Scotland this summer to perform with them. After which she is considering serving a mission to who knows where. Nervous Moms like kids close.

Pearl (19) bonked her head. She spent the summer studying traumatic brain injuries at the Montreal Neurological Institute, got back to BYU and promptly smashed her precious helmetless skull against the unforgiving concrete of a campus sidewalk while rushing to her pre-med club on a bike. She didn’t know who she was for several hours but is back to her mega-cerebral self and is majoring in Neuro Science and taking the MCAT in the spring. If you see her riding by without a helmet…feel free to nag.

Brianne (18) completed her first quarter at BYU Idaho which she loved and her Mom survived. She got a guitar for Christmas and was thrilled. Her music is amazing. I can’t help it that my eyes leak when she sings and plays. Something is seriously wrong with my tear ducts. They are directly connected to Lila’s voice. Since she is on the quarter system, she gets winter quarter off. We get three whole months to bask in Lila light. Lucky Billings gets Lila too. Little brothers are rejoicing along with Mom and Dad.

Doug Junior (12) is almost as tall as his mom. In July, in anticipation of puberty, Spencer’s appendix exploded. Nothing like having your innards bail out of the oncoming madness to usher in adolescents. We actually got him to the hospital before all of his internal organs were infected but not soon enough to protect the colon so Spence was hospitalized for several days doing intense antibiotics, (sound familiar?), and had his appendix removed several weeks later. He has recovered fully, was called as deacon quorum president, loves the Beatles and is living to snowboard powder at red lodge.

Joseph (10) has discovered racquetball & Mom is thrilled to see his energy channeled. He is thrilled, (along with his brothers), to be in a school that doesn’t require uniforms. Mom and Dad still insist on haircuts which is a trial but Drew carries on, shorn or not. He got a Wii from Santa & is highly motivated with the promise of game time. Drew writes clever poetry, plays piano & has more energy than the herd of deer in our yard.

Christian (8) is the unpublished author of two thick chapter books. He has a serious Calvin and Hobbs addiction and will only practice the piano when Mom says he has to in order to go on to more fun activities such as writing, reading, computing and frolicking with his brothers. Sam was baptized in July and was relieved to know he could repent weekly after having that first load of sins washed away.

Annah(21) is the newest member of our family. She graduated from Snow College with her A.S. & moved in with us. She is keeping us from being lonely with Doug gone so much. She is looking for a job in Montana & is hoping to attend more college here. She is a joy to have around as is only right since her middle name is Joy!!! Ah, labels.

Brinkley (18 months) found the Frisbees Santa was hiding and gave us no peace. He lives to play catch and produces no tears (because he is such a happy doggie), so we have to squeeze them into his eyes 3 times a day. Poor little Fairbanks native doesn’t understand warm weather and seems relieved when there is snow.

That is the news.

It has been one of those days

I'd rather not blog about it. So I won't. How 'bout if I blog about an imaginary day?
Okay.

This morning I woke up to a lovely day of sunshine, blue skies, a loving husband and a swimming pool in my back yard. The weather is a perfect 70 degrees. I slipped into my size 6 bikini and effortlessly swam 40 laps. I made a perfect breakfast for the entire family and cleaned everything before I left for school.

My children are sweet and kind and always obedient. They never fight or quarrel one with another and constantly complement each other. They are endlessly grateful for the work I do and the things I sacrifice for them. My school work is easy because I am so devistatingly brilliant. My professors are all amazed by my work and whisper reverently to each other in awe when I walk past. My fellow students respect my opinions and enjoy my friendship.

I have a fabulous job and my work is rewarding and I am well paid for my efforts. My supervisors at my practicum are amazed at my wisdom and skill and allow me abundant opportunities to demonstrate my talents and change lives right and left.

I am thin and blond and devistatingly gorgeous. I have truckloads of money and I can't find enough places to spend it all. My wardrobe is all name brand and my home is clean, beautiful and well kept.

Did I mention the pool?

Hawaii Hotel with my Hunny

I'm in a hotel in Hawaii with my hunny. Now you know my commitment to not watch television doesn't count when I'm in a hotel room. Doug and I have been watching Man Verses Food. It is the latest insanity on the travel channel where this crazy guy goes around to different resturants and accepts their food challenges. A food challenge is to eat a 876 pound hamburger with a 12 gallon milkshake or some equally gluttonous goal. It is beyond sick and twisted. I think the Alquida shows this program to the middle eastern countries to show them just how degenerate Americans are. They don't even have to lie.

I realize that I'm missing out on a ton of popular culture by banishing television from my life.

I don't really think I'm missing much.

I think I'll leave it off tomorrow and get out and enjoy Maui.

Process Recording the Group Experience

Description of group setting (purpose of group)

In our group therapy class we split up into small groups of four people. We were discussing our handout about the priorities individuals have in groups. I initially wrote that “pleasing” was my number one priority. Boy was I mistaken. We talked about our individual goals and after a while we all get together in one big group and talked about what we had learned. The names are changed to protect the innocent.

Group purpose/process in terms of member roles, social interactions & behavior

Dr. Cinnamon was the facilitator and he asked Bill to share his small group experience. So Bill starts to tell how Camille was feeling compromised at work by men who seem to take advantage of her youth and beauty and say demeaning things to her. Bill began to talk about how he helped Camille to see her own worth by sharing the lyrics of a Tupoc rap song. At this point I was mentally rolling my eyes at the audacity of Bill (a white male who makes constant cracks that are demeaning to women and other minorities), to make things better for Camille. It was incredibly offensive and sexist to me. The fact that it was a rap song, (which is a style typically demeaning of women), in a graduate level academic setting was almost comical in my mind.

I can’t remember all I said, but in a nutshell, I told Bill he was a misogynistic male chauvinist. I told him he couldn’t possibly understand Camille’s perspective and to talk to her the way he did wasn’t the least bit empowering. (Which, of course, put the whole class on defensive). Several people made comments and the discussion turned to the cultural attitudes that are demeaning to women. I addressed the nickname assigned to Camille and voiced my concern at an individual being called after a snack food. Camille seemed miffed that I was discounting the men who were rescuing her. But what I felt was an attack of all men. In my mind I was all women and I was standing up for myself and my daughters and every blind woman in the room who doesn’t get how marginalized we are as a group.

Student’s internal experience (personal thoughts and feelings)

I can’t even remember everything everyone said. What I do remember, is the horrible feeling of other people thinking I was the problem. Someone else told me that everyone came away from it feeling worse rather than better. We stereotyped each other, and I’m the one who started it. How could I have done it differently? We all fell into a group mentality. Even I, the scapegoat, felt like it was okay that I was being used to help further everyone else’s education.

One of the most important things I’ve learned so far in this class is that group therapy’s goal is to model a functional family. We did the classic dysfunctional family thing. Alice was the only one who acknowledged that there was something seriously wrong with this exercise. She pointed out that I was being a scapegoat.

Later on that evening Alice wrote on facebook “Today’s group was the Mailgram experiment.” One class member did what alcoholic families do when they deny that there is a problem. She told Alice to just go to bed. I broke the rule of acknowledging that there is something wrong by pointing out the sexism of our culture.

I was drawn and quartered in a social and psychological sense. But I learned from the experience. Note to self:

• Do NOT attack someone else when you are feeling personally threatened by their youth and/or maleness…even if you are rescuing someone else.
• Keep your comments to yourself, particularly if the thoughts are about the sexism in our culture and I am in the State of Montana.
• Work through your issues with men and do your best not to put all males in one group.

I recognize that poor Bill was confused. All he was doing was rescuing Camille. What I should have said to him in a calm, cool demeanor was, “You are rescuing Camille, rather than letting Camille rescue herself.”

I was trying to express that we are all products of a sexist culture. I also attempted to take control of the group. I thought “Pleasing” and “Comfort” were more important to me but this experience helped me to realize that “Superiority” and “Control” are my weaknesses and I need to check my own motivations before others feel inadequate or challenged because of my behavior.

The Parable of the Ski Hill

Last Saturday I went skiing with Ren, Holly and assorted sons and nieces. It was Alyssa’s first time. She is an athletic 10 year old and she spent the morning on the wimpy, I mean bunny hill. After lunch, Drew and Madeline talked her into going up a more advanced lift. She told me as she was riding up “Majestic” she felt pretty uneasy when she saw how steep the mountain was. She was pretty confident on the bunny hill and didn’t really understand what getting on a lift meant. Ski lifts all look the same from the bottom and if you have only been up the bunny hill you may not understand just how much farther up the mountain and more difficult the runs are. Drew and Madeline assured her all would be swell and she trusted them instead of listening to that naggy little voice that told her this really isn’t a good idea.
Her Dad and I warned her a few hours earlier, (as she was headed toward another lift that was experts only). We tried to tell her the difference between black diamond and green square. She is one gutsy kid.
After a while, Holly got a little nervous and called Alyssa on her cell phone. Sure enough, poor little Alyssa was stranded on a steep hill. Her cousins had abandoned her and she had lost a ski and was seriously stuck. She couldn’t ski down the hill because it was too steep for her skill level.
A few minutes later I got a call from Madeline. She asked me what she should do. I told her that it was her choice but if I was her I would hike back up to where Alyssa was and stay with her until we could get there to rescue her.
So Ren and I took off. We skied to the front of the line and ditched the 99 and nine (Sam and Alexa). When we got to the top we went I search of Alyssa, called Madeline’s phone and followed the clues she gave me and ended up about 300 yards below them. I sidestepped up as far as I could and called to them, encouraging them to skoot down as far as they could on their bottoms. In the meanwhile, I realized how steep the mountain was and knew I wouldn’t be strong enough to get Alyssa down. So I called Doug. Luckily, he is an expert skier, and was on his way up the very lift.
Alyssa made it to where I was and I got her skies attached to her boots, her helmet on her head and her bod vertical. I tried to do the thing I’ve done dozens of times with my own children. The problem was, I did this when my kids were four or five. I put my skies on the outside of hers, held our poles out in front of us horizontally with her hands between mine and with the tips of my skies together, attempted to ski down the hill with Alyssa. We ended up turning into one of those cartoon versions of a snowball with legs, skiis, arms and poles flailing wildly as we tumbled down the hill.
I simply was not strong enough to support her weight and mine. Ren just looked on and shook his head. He is incredibly athletic and strong but lacks the skill. There we were, two adults, incapable of helping this kid because of unmet potential in skiing ability on Ren’s part and lack of physical strength on mine.
So we waited for Doug. He came flying over the crest of the hill in his red ski suit like a heroic santa clause. He deftly straddled Alyssa’s skies and held the poles in front of her and away they went. Ren and I did our best to keep up with them. Doug was in complete control and within minutes Alyssa was safely back on the bunny hill.
I thought of how many times in a young person’s life they are tempted to get involved in some tempting activity. Others may tell them it is no big deal and then leave them when they get stuck. They may feel too embarrassed to call for help but adults that love them will call and even leave other responsibilities to help them. But no matter what others do, there is often situations where only someone who is far above the rest of us in ability can help.
Our Savior is there to rescue us. He will get us down from the mountain of sin, even if we got up there by our own stupidity! It may take the help of others who are willing to hike back up and sit with us until help arrives. We may have to sit alone for awhile and contemplate the situation we got ourselves into. Parents and Aunts who love us may be the ones who call for help. Once we are ready for his help, even if it means we’ve tried other sources and tumbled, He will be there.

On the Road...

Yo bleaders. One of these days I'll tell you about what happened to me this week, but not yet. I'm still too raw.

But today, let me tell you about today. Today was good. Lesson of the hour is this:

When you drive for six hours with three little boys and you get to the much awaited hotel room and you turn on the tv and flip around the channels...(when you have not been watching tv for months), don't be surprized if the violence and sex has increased and your young ones are traumatized.

Not sure I will go back to having it again.

God verses Darwin

I've been reading Finding Darwin's God, by Kenneth Miller. Think of the song "I Am a Child of God"...Now try singing this to that familiar tune..."I am the product of natural selection, genetic chance and environmental necessity" I know. It just doesn't sound as good, does it? That's because it leaves out purpose and hope and family. My brain is evolving as I read!!!

Okay, looking over what I wrote and reading it from the perspective of one who doesn't believe in God I recognize that I didn't write that exactly how I meant it. I don't mean to knock anyone else's beliefs. The book I'm reading is about how God and Darwinism fit together. But if you don't believe in God and you need scientific proof and logic for answers, you may feel frustrated at someone belittling your beliefs. I never want to do that. I truly believe we all have the right to our own opinions.

I guess I just want to be free to have mine, too!

My belief in the other side has so much to do with the emotional connection I feel with friends and family members who have gone before. I don't want here and now to be all there is.

"This is one of the hardest lessons for humans to learn. We cannot admit that things might be neither good nor evil, neither cruel nor kind, but simply callous - indifferent to all suffering, lacking all purpose."

Richard Dawkins...


I 'get' that lots of people can't fit science with religion. I'm not a serious student of hard science. I'm just reading a book and had a thought.

Here is how I see it:

If there isn't a God
and a life after this one
I haven't lost anything by believing there is.
and I've gained everything if I believe and there is.

Of course, I've been told that I may miss out on life experiences by limiting my belief and my actions to what fits in with my religious beliefs. The ole' "Eat, Drink and be Merry" idea. If this life is all there is, I should enjoy it.

But I do enjoy. I live within certain limits and boundaries and I get to enjoy the experience of home, family, stimulating conversation, intimacy, love in all its forms, and a connection with heaven.

I eat my veggies, I drink milk, and I am merry with my friends and fam without the use of mind altering substances.

My life is full.

I Am a Child of God...with a little help from Jesus, my parents and me

I've been reading a book Pearl gave Doug for Christmas. It is Finding Darwin's God, by Kenneth Miller. Think of the song "I Am a Child of God"...Now try singing this to that familiar tune...

"I am the product of natural selection, genetic chance and environmental necessity" I know. It just doesn't sound as good, does it. That's because it leaves out purpose. My favorite line from a movie, (this week), is from "Corrina, Corrina". The mother died and the maid told the little girl that the Mom was in heaven with the angels. The Dad explains to the little girl that people made up religion just to make themselves feel better. The little girl replied, "What's the matter with that?"

Love that line.

What is wrong with it? Why is it so horrible to believe in something that you can't see that may or may not make sense? Isn't that alot of what science is? Theories? They may or may not be true.

In speaking of the Darwinian universe, Richard Dawkins said, "This is one of the hardest lessons for humans to learn. We cannot admit that things might be neither good nor evil, neither cruel nor kind, but simply callous - indifferent to all suffering, loacking all purpose."

wow

How sad.

I like believing, partly because I like hope.

Hope is my friend.

I taught a lesson on The Creation last week. Have you noticed when you teach by the Spirit you hear things coming out of your own mouth you haven't heard before? I heard myself say that God delegated the creation to the Savior who delagated the dominion of it all to us. (not THERE'S a lesson in leadership).

And WE create our own world...in many ways. In the choices we make and the thoughts we think. We create pathways in our brains by our actions. We evolve every day. We help the world along as it evolves. Brains evolve, Cultures evolve, packaging of food evolves.

We were created by God, our parents and ourselves. And we are responisble for the planet...including the creation of our own bods. But ultimately, He CAN turn even our doozies of whopper mistakes into goodness. Because He is good.


Delegated

We take part in God's creations
Fires, plagues and infestations
Each unwanted pregnancy
And the wanted ones will be
Part of Heavenly Father's plan
Even stonings in Iran
All that happens in the world
From the smallest fallen bird
To the lillies in the field
Every stalk of grain we yield
Doesn't miss the Father's eye
If we live or if we die
Only adds to all the dirt
And the glory of His work
He will turn it into good
Omniscience does what it should


and thats all I have to say about that.

Lollie the Naughty Blogger

This is me Repenting:

I have been a naughty blogger. You might call me deglectful of my blog. Sorry folks. You know the only person you hurt when you don’t do what you say you will do is yourself. You start to not trust you. Especially if you are the only person you really promised anything to.

And lets face it. That is who reads this blog the most.
So self, blog baby blog.

About my life without TV I’m faced with a dilemma. My husband thinks we should get cable. I know. What is his problem? He thinks our boys would be inspired by watching the Olympics.
Okay.
I admit.
They would.

But almost in the same breath, he spoke about the latest article he read in American Family Journal about the sexually explicit programs on nickelodeon. And do you know what? You don’t, but I will tell you.

I really like not having cable. I like watching movies and reading books and I hate to admit it, I like not having to watch all of the devastation going on in Haiti since the earthquake. When people talk about how terrible it is, I feel a little out of it, but not enough to actually have to participate in the voyeuristicness of it all. I picked up a time magazine and saw some of the pictures. I listen to NPR every morning so I get the scoop. But people, I am so happy in my cozy little Cableless world. I study and play the piano and go hang out at the The Family Tree, (where I’m doing my practicum), and I get to focus on a smaller world of my own choosing rather than that big, nasty, ugly world the media likes to show us all.

Just call me Ostritch Lollie...burying my head in the sand.

I know there is good on cable. My argument to Doug is that I don’t want the temptation of cable. He says we should only have it for a month. I don’t think I could watch cable for one lovely month and then go cold turkey. I’m worse than an alcoholic. It is a serious addiction.

True confession.
TV is the black hole of time wasting. I know. You thought facebook was. It isn’t. Television is for me.

A&E’s Movie about Benedict Arnold

In the spirit of not watching Television, (but renting the occassional movie), I watched a great flick about that guy the yummy eggs are named after.

According to the film, Benedict Arnold was really a decent guy. He was considered to be a great hero at one point in time. His wife was an interesting piece of work. She was as different as can be from another revolutionary wartime hero. Abigail Adams encouraged her husband in goodness and much of the good that he did was following advice from his wife.

Ironically, Benedict Arnold’s wife was (according to this film), the motivating factor behind much of Arnold’s idiocy. Her tendency toward disloyalty was evidence in her choice to marry Benedict after making promises, (albeit unspoken), to her redcoat boyfriend. Arnold is depicted in this movie as being deeply in love with Peggy and willing to do whatever it took to make her happy. She wanted to be married to a powerful man and was in love with his potential to be king. It was interesting to watch the evolution of both of their personalities.

Peggy was a contemporary of Jane Austen and much of my understanding of the culture of the times is from Austen’s books. Peggy obviously married to enhance her power. She encouraged her husband to betray himself and his country even when he wanted to do the unselfish and difficult things. When he was busted, she told him to escape and helped him do it then blamed it all on him when Washington found her.

Arnold struggled with the decisions he made as a result of his wife’s advice…but he still made those decisions. The saddest scene was the very end where he challenges a long time collegue to a duel for defiling his name. Peggie is cowering in the carriage as the men duel. Both of their lives have disintegrated to nothing and Arnold recognized and states that future generations will categorize him with other traitors like Lucifer and Judas.

I was empowered by this movie because it really made me think aabout the decisions that I make not only in my personal life but in the advice I give my husband. Marriage can be very challenging and I often feel like my influence isn't really felt. Yet, as I look at these historic events, I realize that my general attitude makes a difference in his life, whether for good or ill. I wonder how much I have influenced the choices he has made.