I am a Member of the Mormon Church, and I am Not Afraid

I have spent a good majority of my life afraid. It has nothing to do with physical danger or of any threat to me, or anyone I love. In my youth I was afraid of looking dumb, of being made fun of (and trust me, I was a chubby redhead with freckles, glasses, AND braces – there was plenty to make fun of), or not having any friends. As I grew the fear became not having any guy like me, of disappointing my parents, of not being good enough. Upon becoming a wife and a mother I began to fear for my family. Was I a helpmate to my husband? Was I a good mother? I also feared hurting others. Having been made fun of and chastened while growing up, I knew the damage an unkind word or correction done incorrectly could do. Looking back there are so many things I wish I could undo, but that would also take away all the lessons I learned from my mistakes. 

For the most part I’ve gotten over many of those fears, in particular through the last few years. I have grown to know myself better, and appreciate my foibles as well as those things that make me awesome. I can see myself more and more through the eyes of my Heavenly Father, and know He has a plan for me. One big part of that plan is to preach the Lord’s gospel, as is my duty as a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, or the Mormon Church.

Therein lie my greatest fears of today. Several months ago during a Fast and Testimony meeting I stood to bear my own testimony (or express the witnesses I had received from the Holy Ghost as to the truthfulness of the Lord’s gospel). The Holy Spirit had been working on me so hard during that entire meeting and I finally could not ignore it any longer. Before bearing my testimony I spoke of what I felt the Lord was asking me to say. You see, a trend had begun of telling many a story or experience before bearing the testimony, and often the story was longer than the testimony. One person was so focused on relating his experience by the time he began to speak to us of the testimony he'd gained he actually said the words, “Blah, blah, blah” to help relate what was supposed to be the entire point of standing up in front of the congregation.

On that Sabbath morning I stood and tried, in my imperfect way, to express the Lord’s desire: that the hour appointed to bearing one’s testimony return to it’s purpose. Stories and experiences are beautiful things, as they are what help to bring that special witness to us. But there is a time and a place for the stories, and we had forgotten this. Though the feeling in the chapel was warm, and sweet, and loving, the Spirit had to wait through the stories before it could do what it was meant to do: bear witness to the truths told by those who felt inspired to relate them.

How important is that special witness to our church? I would imagine just as important as it is in any church. Vital, even. In fact, once a month our main meeting is set aside from having regular speakers to allow those in the congregation to bear their testimonies as they feel inspired to do. Once a month! When done suitably the Holy Spirit is allowed to witness to all who are willing to listen, which not only strengthens the one standing at the microphone, but all others in the room as well. It is a beautiful, marvelous experience. One our Heavenly Father knows we need.

Let us go back to the day I stood, as prompted by the Spirit, to remind everyone of this. I know my words, my actions, did not sit well with many, and as the bishop’s wife both he and I are under major scrutiny. I also knew my husband might not be so happy with me. I even knew I might hurt those who had been at the microphone before I got up. Which is why it took me until almost the end of the meeting to finally obey, for it came down to this: whom was I more prepared to disappoint – my husband and people I love, or my Heavenly Father and my Savior?

I was terrified of the moment my husband got home, not because he’d yell or anything, but because I knew he’d feel let down by my actions. We chatted for a few minutes until I couldn’t take it any more.

“Did I do bad?” I asked.

“I don’t know, honey. I just don’t know.”

My heart broke. I began to doubt that I’d really been listening to the Spirit. Was it just me? Had I made a horrible mistake? We talked a little more and I agreed to at least apologize to those who had born their testimonies that day. Unfortunately in doing so I made one of them feel worse than if I’d just left it alone, which preyed on my more, and placed me on a cycle of self-recrimination I could not work my way out of.

I was a horrible person. I couldn’t differentiate between my own feelings and that of the Lord’s. I hurt people I purported to love. I disappointed my husband and placed him in an awkward situation that could get him in trouble with his own leaders. These thoughts and more circled through my head for days and days.

I began to try to make up for being such a wicked person. I kept telling myself, “If I just do this then it means I’m not bad.” “If I get this done then maybe I’m not so horrible.” “If I give up this and that it means I might be a good wife and mother.” By the end of the week I had myself so worked up I even had thoughts of harming myself. Because who was I to tell anyone else what they should or shouldn’t do? I. Was. No one.

Satan worked me over thoroughly that week. It didn’t help that my doctor had toyed a little with my depression meds to see if it would help with my constant exhaustion, but they were not the true cause of my turmoil. Things came to a head Friday evening. I’d gotten some pizza for the kids for dinner and stood in the kitchen washing dishes. My husband, who’d just woken from a nap, came in and told me I didn’t have to do those. He’d do them later. In my mind came the thought, "But if you have to do them it means I'm not doing my job. I'll have failed you again."

I couldn’t stop. My headed shook no and I refused to look him in the eye. All week long I’d been able to hide the torrential storms of emotion I’d dealt with, but no longer. When asked why I wouldn’t come eat dinner I finally admitted, “If I can just get these dishes done, maybe it’ll mean I’m a good person.”

It took some doing but he finally got me into our room and we began to talk. I still couldn’t look him in the eye and I know I frightened him with my ramblings. At one point he asked, “Does this have something to do with what I said on Sunday?” He sounded horrified, which only confirmed in my mind that which I already knew: now I’ve hurt my husband. I really was horrible!

Because we hadn’t discussed my actions since Sunday I didn’t realize he’d been thinking about it too. Granted, it was not to the extent my guilty mind had done, but he said something that offered a tiny sliver of hope in my overtaxed mind: Did you ever think the Lord asked you to do it because I didn’t have the courage to do it myself?

It was the first mention that maybe, just maybe, I hadn’t goofed up as royally as I’d convinced myself. My husband, the sweet, remarkable, amazing man, then picked up the phone and called my parents to come down. My mother held me in her arms as we discussed what I’d been through that week, and gave voice to the words that maybe, just maybe, I was simply a soft-hearted woman who didn’t want to hurt those I love. When I’d calmed down more my father placed his hands on my head, along with my husband, and gave me a priesthood blessing.

Therein was my grace, the balm to my aching soul. I was told, in words that could not be mixed up, twisted, or doubted, that I had done exactly as He had wanted me to do.

I honestly don’t recall anything else from that blessing, but it’s okay. That was all I needed. Turns out I wasn’t a horrible person. Turns out I wasn’t imposing my own thoughts on Him and attempting to pass them off as His. Turns out I had done what was right. What I’d done wrong was fearing man more than I feared God, once my task had been done.

Since that time I’ve been learning more about what it means to do that which the Lord asks of me without fearing the outcome. I still struggle with what is me being a passionate person, and what is of the Lord or the Father. Perhaps I always will.

This morning I had the opportunity to attend one of the sacred temples here in Utah. From the moment I awoke there was an intense feeling of happiness at the thought of going. In the car on my way there I couldn’t stop tears from forming, my happiness was truly so complete. A part of me knew there was Someone who loved me deeply by my side, though I could not say whom that Someone might have been. Nothing grand occurred during my time at the temple, no angelic visitations or life-changing revelations as I might suppose would occur with such remarkable feelings. It’s more what I walked away with today that has reaffirmed what I need to do with some of my time spent here at home now that the kids are all in school.

It is time to teach. I was blessed with a desire to learn, a desire at times so intense I can hardly gobble up books fast enough to quench the thirst for knowledge. I was also blessed with a gift for teaching, something I love to do and am able to accomplish in my Primary class every Sunday. But more than this I was given a gift to express myself through writing, and it is this gift especially I have been told to concentrate on.

There has been a mighty focus on the Mormon Church with Mitt Romney running for the office of President of the United States. Media, much as it may try to keep from doing so, is biased and more often than not it is biased in the negative when it comes to this church. So be it. Many out there will choose to believe what they are told by the media, or what they hear by word of mouth, much of which is not, and has not, been kind.

There will also be those who will want to know more, and it is for them I am to begin teaching in earnest about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. This is what was confirmed to me today while at the temple. It is time to stop being afraid. No more fearing I might offend or hurt someone by what I have to say, so long as those words I put down are inspired of the Lord. No more fearing I might disappoint anyone but my Father and my Brother, and if I am doing what I do in faith then there is no need to worry.

There are three particular subjects I’ve avoided as much as possible, due to fear, that I will attempt to address in my limited ability over the course of the next few…well, however long it takes me. Those are polygamy, blacks and the priesthood, and homosexuality. My sincere hope is that in knowing where we come from, light might be shed as to why we believe as we do, and why and when things have happened as they have.

I love my Heavenly Father. I love my Savior. I am not afraid to show this, no matter what the consequences may be. If I am to disappoint anyone, let it not be Them.

The Blessings Behind a Broken Microwave

WE...are a microwave loving family. From warming up pancakes in the morning and melting cheese over corn chips for some quick nachos, to heating up a bowl of Chef Boy RD and defrosting chicken, this quick-cooking contraption has long been one of our favorite kitchen appliances.

Our white microwave died earlier this year. We were heartily saddened at it's passing, as it had been with the family for a long, long, long time. Many years, in fact. Of course, things were made to last back in the days we purchased it. Not so these days, as you will soon read.

Out my hubby and I went searching for an awesome-possum microwave. The color didn't matter. We just wanted to find something from a brand we'd trusted in the past, and were willing to pay a mid-range price for it. Not too expensive, as we're not rolling in waves of money. Not the cheapest either, as that typically says, "I'll break on you in no time."

We ended up picking a black one by Emerson. I put down the name knowing full well the company has a reputation of being good, and our one bad experience won't keep me from purchasing it again.

I loved our new microwave. It had all sorts of buttons, and popped the kids' popcorn to perfection - a very important consideration in our house. All four of them had tons of fun using it, which may have contributed just a smidge to it's premature death.

That's right. Only six months and our beloved new microwave passed away, refusing to heat a thing. It'll happily blow cold air on whatever you want to stick in it, but no more heat.

Sadness, I know.

One thing I haven't loved , but will accept as there's nothing I can do about it, is the sudden increase in the amount of dishes we must now do. We are not ones who have an electric dishwasher. Two hands and a sink full of suds is how we get things clean.

Our utter dependence on this one appliance for the nourishment of my children became apparent as suddenly my kids began to declare there's "nothing to eat!" In truth I realized they were proclaiming, "We don't know how to eat things you don't cook in the microwave!" Here we come to blessing #1.

1. Mom's cooking things for the kids again. Whether it's warming up last night's leftover burger patties or mixing up some pancake batter, Mom has actually been in the kitchen, at the stove, actively participating in the feeding of her children. And since she's already cooking up things for lunch, why not get a few things prepared for dinner! Which brings us to...

2. The evening ritual of dinner prep isn't as hectic. Don't get me wrong, it's still hectic, just not AS hectic. Yet it has freed up enough time to enjoy having the kids come in to help finish putting everything together, like preparing a green salad, setting the table, and slicing up some veggies. Of course, that's all dependent on what we're eating that night.

3. Another unexpected blessing has come in the form of teaching the younger ones to use the stove. Both of my boys are old enough, but until now I hadn't taken the time to do anything about teaching them until the last two weeks. I'm not talking about anything huge, just warming up a can of spaghetti and meatballs or cooking up some Ramen noodles.

4. The last blessing I have noticed in this short time has been an increase of my children's gratitude for providing a simple meal for them. It may not be exactly what they want, but the fact that I took time out of my busy day to prepare something just for them has been noticed, and I've felt the increase in gratitude and love.

I'm still hoping we'll be able to get a microwave someday soon, but until then I find myself oddly happy that for a time our microwave is broken.

The Value of a Dollar Earned

Our boys came to us about two weeks ago begging for a game. They really, really, really, REALLY wanted this game. Would we buy it for them? Pretty, pretty please?

The irony here is we've been talking about needing to cut back on a lot of stuff to get certain debts paid off. We're not rich, by any means. We don't spend an awful lot of money. But due to not enough income to supplement the inflation in prices, as well as several emergencies that have required the use of a dreaded credit card,  we're not doing as well as we have in the past. So looking into the faces of our two little boys who really, honestly thought we'd just buy them a new game was a wake up call in our need to help our own kids realize money is not always there whenever we need something.

A plan was devised to help them earn some money. The car needed a good cleaning both inside and out. There was a flower bed in desperate need of weeding. the pantry needed a thorough examination to see what had expired, what would expire soon, and what would last us a while longer. We agreed on a price for each job. These jobs plus a few others would help them to pay for their own game.

At first the boys were all excited. Halfway through the weeding job their excitement waned, especially when friends came over hoping for someone to play with, but they plodded on. Halfway through cleaning the car Mr. B was disheartened to hear about all the little places they needed to get in and dejunk, but he hitched up his shorts and kept going. I could hardly believe the commitment these two young boys had in regards to earning the money for something they really wanted.

When the pantry job remained Mr. J was called away to participate with a scouting event. I thought this might keep them from finishing with the pantry this week, but Mr. B surprised me by tackling this all on his own. He rocked it! I couldn't have been prouder to see him figuring out what could stay and what needed to go (though I have a feeling many things that could have stayed now reside in the garbage can).

I have paid my boys for these jobs. Someone will be paying them to keep watch over their house while they go on vacation.  It has been awesome to see their dedication to doing a job well done. On a whim I thought I should try looking on Amazon for the game. Not only did I find it for half off, but we found two controllers for a discounted price as well, something they eventually also hoped to earn money for. Their excitement over getting both put them over the moon!

I told them two things had to happen before they got their game and controllers. First, they had to pay tithing. Second, they had to pay me for the "merchandise."

Tithing is really important to me. I have seen the blessings that have come from returning to the Lord 10% of what we have been blessed with. Tithing is the first thing out of our paycheck. I want my kids to have that same reverence and respect for what they have also been blessed with. We have gone over exactly how much they'll need to pay, and both are so happy to do it.

I want them to pay me the money so that they can see this is not just something I did for them. This is something they accomplished though their own hard work.

Ms. M has had a babysitting job for the last two weeks. She works with a friend Thursday and Friday from nine to five watching a couple of kids. It's not an easy job, but she's very proud of what she's accomplishing, of the responsibility being handed to her. She too knows tithing is important, and is also planning to get many of her own school things so we don't have to.

The last unexpected blessing has been in seeing our littlest want to earn some money as well. Her skills are limited, and she wants to give up mighty quick. It's taken a lot of prodding to make certain she does the job she's been assigned, and does it well. We want to see her recognize even this early what it means to do a job well done, to know what it means to earn an honest dollar.

Today the boys' game arrived. Their faces as money was traded for the merchandise was awesome to behold. This was in every way their game! I may never get my living room back, but it's been worth it.

One last unexpected bonus: this week Mr. J was helping me with the grocery shopping. We were in a crunch for time and by the time we got home from the store and brought the groceries in the house I was desperate for a shower. "Mom," he said, "you go ahead and take a shower. I'll put everything away." "Are you sure?" I asked, both surprised and delighted by his offer. "Sure," he said with a shrug. I got in my shower, and he put the groceries away. A little act of service from a boy who'd been working hard all week. LOVE IT!!!

Could You Please Turn Off the Computer?

Earlier today my younger son, Mr. B, came in and asked if we could start reading a book together. Mr. J had just finished reading it himself and wouldn't stop telling his little bro about all the seriously cool stuff going on. Mr. B likes to have someone else do the reading for the most part, and seems to enjoy it when his Mama does the reading, hence his coming in to my room and asking.

Before Daddy came home and we left for a quick family outing, Mr. B would read one page, then I would read the next. After a while he was getting frustrated by the appearance of the others who kept grabbing my attention. He also wasn't digging the fact that I was trying to do something on my little computer at the same time, even though I proved I was listening to every word he read.

When Dad said, "Let's go everyone!" my little guy grabbed the book and said, "Should I bring it with us?" I said we'd better not, as we really wouldn't have a chance to sit down and read while we were out. At his disappointed look I promised, "When we get back home the two of us will read again."

Immediately he said, "Can it be just the two of us? With no one else?" I said yes, though I couldn't promise someone might need me here and there for the unexpected emergency...like not being able to put the toothpaste on the toothbrush. A feat not to be trusted to Dad, apparently.

"And can you please turn off the computer and just read with me?"

I laughed. I really did. He totally had my number. For a woman who was frequently after her kids for spending so much time on the computer and not doing other things, I was guilty of doing the same thing. From my lips came the sacred oath that, "Yes, honey, I'll turn off the computer and give all my attention to you and the book."

And I did :)

A Confuddled Mind

Well hello there. Yes, it's true. I am still around. Lately I've had so many things running around in my head it's been difficult to sort it all out. I used to be able to do that here, but one of the unexpected after-effects of the depression has been not enjoying the things I used to do. This has included, much to my dismay, blogging. Recent events has reminded me, however, that I made a promise to myself to try and represent my Heavenly Father, my Savior, my church, and my family in a positive and informative way. I've neglected that sorely as of late. So be prepared - this blog post is representative of a plethora of thoughts that have been rumbling around in my mind. Hence the post title. It won't flow nicely, and may make no sense whatsoever, but that's why I'm so confuddled.

When first starting my therapy sessions back when I finally admitted I couldn't work out my depression on my own, my counselor began what's called "Cognitive Therapy" with me. He was basically attempting to help me dispel some beliefs I had about who I was and what was expected of me, and then begin to look at the situations of my life in a different light. It sounds easy enough. Some I know have laughed at it. This was precisely what I needed, however. It's been a few years since I went through this process, but recently some things have reminded me I need to get back in the habit of seeing the positive.

Our Church is instituting a new portion of the missionary program in our area. It's going to take work. It's going to take a LOT of work. It's going to require much faith, much time, and getting out of our comfort zones. When we first heard about it my husband and I felt despair. How could we put in the required effort when we were all ready super-planned with other Church and kid related things!?!?!

Take this last week as an example. We attempted to get as much home and visiting teaching done as possible. Monday I went on a walking field trip with one of my kids' classes which took up the majority of my day. Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday my husband was asked by his work to head down to the Provo Temple cafeteria to work, which required an extra 40 minutes of driving time each way. M has had play practices, and then the play itself on Wednesday. M had youth activity on Tuesday night. Wednesday was Field Day at the school, and so I was able to help out with games all the day long! It was fun, but by the end of the night I was badly burned and exhausted! Friday was the last day at school. The assembly went for over two hours, then the car didn't start. That's right. The car died. So hubby and I spent a few hours in the heat of the afternoon trying to jump start the car, taking out the battery, getting a new battery, and finally being able to start the car again. Add to all this cleaning the house, getting laundry done, grocery shopping, and keeping the kids fed.

And that's not all! But it's enough. All that in one week. So hearing at the last minute that hubby has an extra meeting on Wednesday night that will keep him from seeing his daughter's play...let's just say neither of us, nor our darling M, was too happy. "Talk me down, honey," my hubby said. Then both of us had to help talk M down. We continued to have a bad attitude for a few days until we both realized a few things. 1> Neither of us was supporting our priesthood leaders. 2> We weren't setting a good example to our children. 3> The new program being presented that night to the leaders of each ward was inspired by the Lord. And 4> By proceeding in faith and a good attitude we would certainly be blessed.

Since those realizations came to me I have been constantly reminded of one of my favorite scriptures in the Book of Mormon. In 1 Nephi 3:7 we are shown so much of what sort of man Nephi was. When asked to do something not only hard physically, but emotionally and mentally he said, "...I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepapre a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them."

Those two words, "I know" are powerful things. Nephi had a firm testimony of what he could accomplish when obeying the Lord. How could I, who also "knows" what can be done when I act in faith, complain and whine about things being too much? Simple: I couldn't.

So I've done some major attitude adjustment this weekend. I went to our ward barbeque last night with the intention not to hide away, but talk with those who wanted to talk. Yes I felt rather drained when I got home, but I also felt a greater love for those I spoke with. I felt energized and ready to attack another day. All because I changed my attitude.

My camera died a few months ago. You have no idea how much this pained me, as I loved my camera. It had been given to me several years ago by my older brother and his adorable wife when our last camera even before that had died. I've taken some pretty awesome pictures with that camera. So it's inevitable death made me very sad. Until Mother's Day, when I officially took out my new camera :) It's a Kodak I purchased online through a discout site called Woot.com. Love that site. I'm still figuring out the intricacies of this new camera (it's purple!).

My dad had surgery on his back. That was no fun, for him or us. More so for him, of course. He's finally home and doing well, all things considered. I'd say more but it'll just make me cry. I really love my dad.

My oldest was a youth representative for this year's youth conference. It was held on a stake level this year. They went up to Utah State University in Logan, and had a great time. She lost her glasses, which did not make for a very happy mom and dad, but there's nothing we can do about it other than wait until she can get another pair next year :P

Both boys went to a school-funded camp. It was Mr. B's first serious time away from home, and he was having an extremely hard time leaving. Of course once he was gone he was fine. And once he was home he was so happy to be here. I'm very happy he went.

Mr. J had his new bike stolen. This made the whole family sad! He was having so much fun with this bigger bike. Having it stolen (and it's not the first time this has happened) was a serious blow. We've found another bike at a yard sale, but need to replace the tires before he can ride it.

I was released from the young women's program and placed in the Primary. I've been going through teenage girl withdrawal. Luckily I have one in the house and she brings her friends over. That way I get a thorough fix of teen drama. I'm teaching J's class in Primary. The first day I taught I managed through a series of unfortunate events to incur injuries on two of them, one of them being J who had a mighty bloody nose. When trying to look for the 'bright side' I decided any lesson that doesn't end in injury will be a huge success!!!

I've started making friendship bracelets - revisiting my past. Funny thing is Mr. B is the big one who has liked giving it a try. He's made a few bracelets for a few friends.

Are you all still here? Have you left this particular post thinking, "Don't know why I'm reading this!"? Ah well. Kuddos to those of you who have stuck around. Just for you, I have a funny brought to you by M.

The last day of youth conference she and her dad were dropping off one last person, whose house happened to sit where she could see into the driveway. "Oh no!" she cried in desperation. "What?" asked Dad. "Mom's not home!" In confusion he asks, "How do you know?" "Because, the car's not there!" Shaking his head Dad says, "Honey, we're in the car right now."

I love that girl!

Shhhh, Don't Tell Anyone I'm Here

I've been in hiding for about the last week. I have to do it, every once in a while. People are just plain lucky if I answer the phone or even type a few words in an e-mail.

I can say with confidence it's not depression, for I'm a happy little camper. I've even been mighty productive. Two or three years ago one of the maple trees in our front yard died. My hubby chopped it down, and a year later even managed to get the stump dug out. Not to long after that the stump in our back yard was removed as well. I only mention that one because it would explain our need for a giant pile of dirt. Not just any dirt. Oh no. This is awesome dirt given to us freely by our local cemetery. We have a friend who works there. It was he who told us we could get a nice large pile of dirt, no charge.

I'd never thought of where the cemetery's put their extra dirt. Well, I have a bit of an idea now :)  The giant hole in the back yard was filled (a significant feat considering the stump was three or four feet across). The hole in the front yard was filled, and then I had an idea to put in a slightly raised flower bed. I didn't think it was going to happen for a while there, as the sheer amount of bricks needed was going to cost a pretty penny. But this Spring I decided if we were to wait for the money to be there, we'd never get it done. So off to Home Depot I went and the first two layers are down.

I'd take pictures and post them but my camera died. Sad day for Laurie.

The first layer sits flush with the grass so my husband doesn't have to worry about how to maneuver the lawn mower around it. The next layer is of a different type of stone set a bit further back. I have a few stones to begin the second row, but it may be a while before I'm able to finish it. I'd like to go up one more set, but that may have to wait even longer.

My boys want to plant vegetables. I'm still debating. I definitely need to find a spot to begin an actual vegetable garden, but I want to wait until I know I can keep up with little things like...weeding (shudder).

I've also put together two picture collages that sit at the doors of a cabinet in our living room. I've talked about doing it for about two years, but finally managed to make it happen. And I must say it looks marvelous! Instead of focusing on pictures of my family, as I've done on the main wall of our living room, I put up more artistic pictures. One side is strictly black and white photos, while the other is color.

A few months ago I was asked to write a story for our ward's Relief Society birthday dinner. It was postponed for a few weeks, which turned out to be a blessing as I could not focus long enough to really get my thoughts together. I knew what needed to be portrayed, but figuring out how to make it happened continued to elude me. The idea of what needed to happen didn't come to me until the day before I was supposed to read it. I wrote frantically, prayed about it hard, and felt as though it was enough. I'll post it in my creativity blog if you decide to read it. It's called 'Nissa's Dream.'

So I've been a happy girl, but I'm tired. My brain has been drained, my emotions are running on low, and I've been pulling away from 'stuff' that keeps me busier than I need to be. I don't handle being too busy for too long very well. I begin to shut down, and need time away from people and things and activities so I might allow myself a chance to recover.

I don't know if I'm ready to come out of hiding just yet. It may take another week or so before I feel confident in my abilities to take on my world again. In the meantime I'm enjoying my family, especially my children and my husband. I'm enjoying some good reading time and music, and times to be creative. Feeding my soul, I guess you could say. Only this time, unlike the last several years due to depression and it's horrible effects, I'm enjoying every minute of it.

Teenage Girls

Just a quick funny.

The other day my husband went to pick up our teenage daughter and a few of her friends from school. The moment she got home M came into my room, plopped down on my bed, and said in a sorely afflicted voice, "Dad just doesn't understand what it's like to be a girl!"

Being the super understanding, serious minded mother I am, the first thing out of my mouth was, "I certainly hope not! We'll have a whole new set of problems if he does!"

She rolled her eyes at me.

Apparently I'm not as good understanding teenage girls either.