sometimes i have to write things down. somewhere. anywhere. because i want to capture a moment or a picture or a thought but (as you can likely tell by the shocking lack of photographs on my blog) i don’t have a camera on hand. all i have are words (and you know i will lose the moment if i just tuck it away somewhere in my head).

like my friend melody, who has written some of her loveliest poetry on the back of a receipt while stopped at a stop light, i have recorded memories on scraps of trash–a receipt, a napkin, a styrofoam cup–picked up from the floor of my toyota sienna. i wrote my best essay ever in red ink on the wrinkled back of my internet contract. i’m pretty sure there was a muddy footprint on one of the pages, but i was camping and it was all i could find.

yesterday i recorded one of my favorite moments of the day as my status in facebook. which is so much easier to write on that a styrofoam cup:

dear old(er) man sitting on your front porch in a fuzzy brown bathrobe this 34-degree morning as i drove home from the gym: yes, you did look a little odd, cold, and perhaps a bit disheveled. but if i could walk out my front door and enjoy the view you have of snow-covered mt. timpanogos i would probably breakfast on my front porch in my pajamas, too.

enjoy the view.

and thanks for wearing pants.

i am grateful that most people wear pants.

and i feel blessed to find pleasure, amusement, a smile or an outright giggle in the simple things in life:

like yesterday when, already half an hour after i had wanted to be home, someone with a pay scale much higher than mine adopted a laissez faire attitude over an error on an account for one of our biggest clients. i wasn’t willing to let it slide and was determined to make it right. but it wasn’t until co-workers started passing cheetos (i only ate two) over my cubicle and offering me chocolate (it was really bad chocolate but i ate a piece anyway) and saying, “here, want a burnt cookie?” (yeah, i ate that, too.) that i realized i may not have been exactly subtle in my frustration or my doggedness. at least i didn’t go all max hall on the guy.

or the fact that this bank robber politely removed his “disguise” of sunglasses and ski hat when asked by the teller to do so and then presented her with the note demanding she remove money from the till. i also love that he was wearing camo. you know, so he would blend in with the bank decor.

or when i was presented with this wordy but polite message in reader today:

Sorry, an unexpected condition has occurred which is preventing Google Reader from fulfilling the request.

read: page load error.

or as i watched my neighbor walk out to the sidewalk this morning in a short, thin, pink housecoat to get the newspaper. housecoats entertain me. so does the color pink.

this just in from sister pottymouth elicited a giggle from me as well.

whatever helps me make it through the week, right?

what’s making you smile today?

p.s. speaking of housecoats, here’s a little shout-out to my friend c jane. who turns 30 (again) today. every year i buy her a shamrock cookie from provo bakery in honor of her birthday. i eat it for her, too. cuz i’m nice like that.

not speaking of housecoats, here’s a shout-out to my friend b. you know why. i love you!

although i’m often driven to distraction and i’m more one of those people who need to be hit on the head or have a lightning bolt sent down, sometimes i unwittingly yield to the spirit and find myself in situations which i know are not mere happenstance. i want to record them. and remember. in hopes i will become better at recognizing them and responding.

several weeks ago i hurt my back. although i’m used to living with frequent pain in my feet, knees and occasionally my hip, this back thing was entirely new to me. and i didn’t like it. it was bad enough i couldn’t do everything i am used to doing and that i knew i needed to see a physical therapist. during my initial call, the receptionist happened to mention that the hospital had its own spine clinic, which was news to me. it turned out i could get in to see a pt in the next day or two, so i didn’t give it a second thought.

a few days later i was enjoying the brief minutes in some of my mornings between getting everyone out the door and rushing off to work, when the phone rang. k~ had left something at home and needed me to drop it by the school. stat. i was still wearing my sweats and kind of drippy with sweat, so i told him to watch for me out the window and come out to get whatever he needed, because i was not about to get out of my car and go into the school like that. mostly i was afraid to walk on the ice, because there had been quite a bit of snow the past two days and it was dangerous out there. i did not want to fall and further injure myself. and it was rain/slush/snowing. not a great day to be outdoors.

i drove up to the school and pulled into the parking lot, in view of the front door. and i waited. no k~. i waited some more. no k~. finally, and none to happy about it, i got out of the car and carefully made my way across the parking lot, the bus drop-off, and the sidewalk. as i got to the front door k~ finally ran out, grabbed whatever it was he needed, and headed back into the school.

i turned and was halfway back across the icy walks and roads when i realized someone was calling to me. it was a tiny, older, hispanic woman. she asked me if i could possibly give her a ride. although it was beyond time for me to be home, getting ready for work, i agreed to help her out. it was only then i noticed how gingerly she was making her way across the slick and icy walks to me. i turned back and gave her a hand to my car, then drove the opposite direction from my home. she lived down off the hill, in the old grandview school boundaries. as we drove she told me normally she would have just walked, but that she had recently fallen on the ice and injured her back, neck and head. as she described her fall and her pain to me i shuddered. her situation definitely put my little back tweak into perspective, but because of my own recent experience, i was definitely able to feel empathy for her pain. she went on to tenderly explain how her husband had given her a priesthood blessing, which had helped to reduce her pain and allow her to do what she needed to do. but she thought she might also need to see a doctor. the problem was, she had no idea who to see.

and then i remembered. uvrmc has a spine clinic. i told her what i had just learned about it and suggested they may be able to help her. then i dropped her off at her home, said good-bye, and headed back home.

and as i turned around and drove home it occurred to me that my little outing that morning had not really been about helping out my kid. it had been about getting me to the right place at the right time to help that sweet woman.

***********

a couple of weeks ago i found myself preparing to go somewhere–where, i don’t know and it doesn’t matter. i threw a bag of some things i needed to return to macey’s in my car–so i’d have them the next time i was in the neighborhood–and went on my merry way. later that day, after whatever event or events i had planned that afternoon, i found myself heading for home, mentally planning errands for later that evening. then i glanced at the time and thought, “well, i’m here. i may as well stop at macey’s.”

i parked my car, grabbed my purse and the bag of items to return, and walked into the store. as i entered i noticed a dear, dear friend of mine. one, who, for reasons not to be explained here, i hadn’t seen for some time. but whom i desperately needed to see. and hug. and tell how very much i love her. she was just finishing up at the check-out line, so i casually walked up behind her and, noticing her cast and her cane, asked in my very best macey’s-bagger voice, “would you like some help out with that ma’am?”

she declined, but the spirit said go, so i insisted. i pushed her cart out to her car, gently crossing a much-needed bridge to reconnect with her, and helped her load her groceries into her trunk. we hugged. we cried. we loved.

and as i turned around and drove home it occurred to me that my little outing that afternoon had not really been about a simple errand to macey’s. it had been about getting me to the right place at the right time to be there for my sweet friend.

as some of you may know, this isn’t my only blog. i keep another blog called oh simple things on which i sometimes take the time to list the things–whether large or small–that rock my world. well, to be honest, they don’t always rock my world. but they make me smile. or they brighten my day. or they help me get through the week.

and on some days, just getting through the week is even better than having something rock your world.

i am not very consistent in recording those simple things, but i do notice them. i notice them because, no matter how crazy busy my life is, i try to make it a point to look for them. it’s a little trick i learned from my husband. while everyone else is spinning around this swiftly tilting planet, he’s still a stop-and-smell-the-roses and check-out-that-great-sunset kind of guy.

most importantly, i appreciate them. i get excited about little things. they make me laugh, warm my heart, and brighten my day.

here are some of the latest on my list:

the absolutely brilliant orange, yellow, gold and red against the clear blue sky.
i love the stormy clouds and rain, but i have to admit this has been one of the most beautiful and comfortable falls i can remember. and even though my october flew past and left me spinning in its dust–the fall has lingered and i have enjoyed almost every minute of it.

the playful antics of the kit-cats that adopted us.
i know i’ve said this before, but we are not cat people. so i’m amused by the almost-irony in the simple pleasure i find in the deep black of mowgli’s fur (that i cannot touch because it will send me sneezing). and the way tigger–and the whole lot of them really, tigger is just the most obvious–shamelessly stops whatever he’s doing when i walk by and runs in front of me and rolls on his back trying to look irresistible. and even though it’s annoying–especially as i’m trying to get out the door for work–i’m still amused at how capone manages to sneak in the doorway between my feet. the other day i watched as mowgli patiently waited under our tree ready to pounce on each leaf as it fell. cats are curious creatures, even if one is allergic to them.

the little things.
simple kindnesses like a co-worker who always gets the door for me. the morning gym guy who tells me to have a nice day as i walk out (i know he says that to everybody, but remember how afraid i was of going to that gym?). the way my 10-year-old who wants to protect me from seeing the gory picture of my friend’s husband’s hand that got stuck in the sander at work. or when shane went to pick up dinner at five guys saturday night just because that’s what i wanted.

smiles

hugs

puns

laughter

kids and teenagers

old ladies

friends

the thrill factor of a bunch of webelos being turned loose in the byu earth science museum

fulfilling a childhood dream of chipping away jurassic rock from a genuine apatosaurus fossil

penny lane

homemade curry and a good jasmine rice purchased from the nice lady at the asian market on 3rd south

seeing the goodness in my children manifest itself in various and sundry but often simple ways

resistance

breath

beat

the way my worries (usually) drift away when sleep comes

six almost-speckled brown eggs

the opportunity to share

the ability to keep trying to get things right

prayer

pajamas

dawn

what simple things either rock your world or at least help get you through the day?

my dad always used to say, “the sun will come out tomorrow.”

he’s right about that.

Several years ago as I was being whisked away to the ER with what I later learned was a life-threatening case of double pneumonia, my last words to my husband were, “Don’t you dare let anyone into the house.”

We had both just survived almost two years of his master’s program–he while working two jobs and me while raising four young kids–and I had been sick for weeks.

And things fell apart.

But as my ER visit turned into a week of hospitalization (let’s just say they don’t keep very many people my age on the 7th floor) during the busiest time of the year for my school-teaching husband, my good friends poured into my house in order to clean, catch up on the laundry and help feed the kids.

And it was then (and quite obviously as a result of cleaning my kitchen) one of my dearest friends, I’ll call her Belinda, forbade my other good friends to never ever give me another rooster. I think she may have made them make a blood oath to never do so.

So the other night when one of said friends knocked at my door I was surprised to see her carrying the sweet little rooster pitcher above.

“Shhh. Don’t tell Belinda,” she said.

Thanks O~. I absolutely love it! And I promise: Not a word!

You could actually draw a (mostly straight) line north and south through my neighborhood and mark homes of families struck by cancer. We used to be the one hole in that line, but not anymore. A friend of ours two houses north who survived her round gave me some good advice after she heard our news.

“Keep track of all the tender mercies that will come to you, because they will be many.”

I’m thinking I ought to get two notebooks. One for filing the medical bills and one for recording the blessings. My hope is that by the time we are all done with this, the blessing one will be fuller than the one for the medical bills.

We’ve only just begun, but so far that certainly seems to be the case.

I’m documenting most of the sweet blessings over on my other blog, but since, as most of you know, I have a tender place in my heart for teenagers, I’ve got one for you here today:

As a preface and on a seemingly completely unrelated note, you should know that the very last time I went grocery shopping I purchased something I have never in my life purchased before. Packets of gravy mix, including turkey gravy. Sure they were on sale, but gravy mixes…really?

Late yesterday afternoon found me feeling not very well. I was weak, fatigued and, for some odd reason, my right hand wouldn’t stop shaking. Not a great way to go into a fast. My husband was preparing for the usual run to the Saturday-night reunion held at the local grocery store because we were completely out of bread and milk. I usually have him pick up something for Sunday dinner as well. He asked me what I wanted and–this will sound completely wimpy, I know–at that moment the thought of making Sunday dinner the next day was completely overwhelming to me. Actually, the thought of even still being conscious was completely overwhelming to me.

Not 20 minutes later we heard a car engine running outside and someone knocked at the door. Our friends’ son Christopher–who grew up with Luke and used to be one of my cub scouts a way back when–was there with two huge trays of food. He and his mother (well, often the entire family) work for some other friends of ours who happen to be the best caterers in the valley (I’m pretty much including SL valley in that, too). Apparently there were leftovers from a dinner they’d done and I figured Christopher’s mother, Olga, had sent them. There was enough food for Sunday dinner and for Monday too (which is wonderful, because our appointment at Huntsman tomorrow is in the late afternoon and I have no idea when we’ll get back).

The trays of food were all sealed up, so I didn’t even open them. I’m sure Christopher must have said what they were, but I just refrigerated them and then drug myself to bed.

Today at church I went up to thank Olga and she asked, “For what?” I told her and she laughed and said that it must have been entirely Christopher’s idea. She hadn’t worked that night and didn’t know anything about it.

Now how many 18-year-old boys do you know who would do something like that? I love that kid! It may have been a simple thing in his mind, but it was a huge and welcome blessing in mine.

Today after church I opened up the trays to find the fixings for a fabulous turkey dinner: turkey breast, mashed potatoes and sweet corn. There was even a can of cranberry jelly sitting on the kitchen counter. I’d noticed it before but had no idea where it had come from.

All I needed was the gravy. And it had just so happened…

I left Provo last week after some of the most gorgeous (and latest) perfect fall days in recent memory. Every day at work I would confer with my co-supervisors (it’s hard to take a meeting when you’re working in a mini-cubicle) outside, face upturned, eyes closed, reveling in the warmth of the autumn sun.

Gentle breezes carried the faint trace of grapes on the vine, apples in the orchards and other remnants of fall harvest and as they rustled through the turning leaves, foretelling change was near.

All the trees were still adorned with shades of fire, amber and ochre.

It was still Mountain Daylight Time, which meant the darkness blanketed my mornings. I love being up before the sun.

As we pulled into town long after dark last night I could sense the shift in seasons before I saw it.

I felt the coolness of the rain through the large bus window.

I breathed deeply one of my favorite scents–rain on pavement.

I noticed the abundant leaves strewn about the road and sidewalks. Wind was gone, but it left a trail behind.

Today as the sun rose what seemed unnaturally early–symptomatic of the first weeks of Mountain Standard time–I noticed naked branches.

I closed my eyes and listened closely to the crunch of leaves underfoot as I walked across the driveway.

I knew winter would be knocking at my window soon enough.

My to-do list today is as long as my right arm and my head is still stuffy. So I’m broadcasting reruns. Maybe it will be new to you. Wish you all the merriest of Christmases and the happiest of new years!

It’s almost two a.m. On the average Christmas Eve (now evolved into morn) I’ve barely been in bed for half an hour, but I’ve already looked at the clock at least three times. Wild with anticipation, not for what might lie under the tree for me, but for the joy I hope to see on the faces of my children.

In a few short hours I will hop out of bed. Probably on the pretext of needing to visit the restroom or to fetch a drink of water. And my slippered feet will deliberately pound the wood floors–that just happen to be right over the boys’ bedroom–just a little too loudly. I might shut the cupboard door a bit too forcefully. Knowing full well if I can accidentally wake up at least one or two the excitement will spread through the house. Children will raise their sleepy heads and soon–quite soon–the moment of truth will arrive.

I lay there as the minutes tick by. Exhausted, but still wide awake. Will they be happy?

Tonight I wonder:  Was it possibly the same for our Creators?

Did they tremble with anticipation as they raised the mighty mountains of the Wasatch front, wondering who would be the first to glance up and stare in awe at their beauty?

Were they secretly pleased at how lovely Bridal Veil falls turned out when it was all up and running and could they not wait for someone to notice?

Did they take their first whiff of fresh lavender and almost clap their hands–barely able to stand it till one of us finally inhaled the earthy fragrance?

Can they hardly contain their joy each time they send down a marvelous sunset? Do they possibly ask, “Won’t so-and-so really love this one?”

December 2006

I don’t know about you, but I’ve been feeling a bit overwhelmed this holiday season. A reluctant Santa’s helper, if you will.

Catalogs, newspaper ads, retail. Stuff. It’s too much. Just the other day I was looking at a gift giving guide for teens in USA Today and most of the recommended gifts started at well over $80–most running between $300 and thousands.

Gag. (No, really. I thought I was gonna be sick.)

That’s ridiculous.

As for me and my house I really don’t want to buy anything at all. I’d just like to get away for a few days and enjoy some activities as a family. (We are going to spend a few days at some friends’ condo in St. George later in the year and we’lll run down to Vegas to spend a day here and I’m good with that. Thanks Mom–Merry Christmas!)

But I look at my eight-year-old and wonder who am I rob him of part of the magic of Christmas. I know I’ve got a little shopping to do one of these days and I need to put on my happy face. I also know I can also give him so much more.

So a big thanks to Laura over at Blog con Queso for putting me on to Twenty Five Days to Make a Difference, as well as Geo On Bright Street for hooking me up with a little wish list from the United Way of Utah County.

The magnitude of the need can be overwhelming. I have enough friends and family members in need right now to fill up entire days. I don’t have entire days.

But this thought from Helen Keller posted on Twenty Five Days encourages me to do my part:

I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do something that I can do.”

I know the power of simple things. I don’t need to abandon my family and quit my job to spend my days saving the world. But I can start at home and work and reach outward from there to help make the world a better place one simple act of kindness and goodness at a time. And that’s all I want for Christmas this year.

To make the world a better place.