read this today. and loved it. it made my (completely inconsistent) “post of the week.”

there is something i love about true confessions. i am drawn to people who shoot straight and who are willing to tell me (and/or the entire world wide web) how they really feel. i find such honesty refreshing and endearing.

now it’s my turn. although i honestly try to keep it real on this blog, i’m now going to out myself on three counts–reveal three truths about me. these are the kinds of things for which i know i may be judged. but i don’t care. much.

1. i listen to ksl talk radio. i don’t usually find amanda annoying unless she is selling something (a book, hot chocolate, or the mayan). in fact, in the past, we have exchanged a few pleasant e-mails. i also listen to classical 89. and orem high’s KOHS. and rock 103. call me old. call me crazy. call me eclectic. it is what it is.

2. i don’t watch r-rated movies. i don’t care if you choose to. i just choose to not. i am not opposed, however, to watching them if they’ve been edited for tv. (or the airlines, either, except i almost never fly.) this fact can make the whole oscar thing incredibly dull for me, because i spend most of the night looking at the dresses and not having a clue what anyone is talking about. if i watch at all. sometimes it’s just easier to flip through the next people magazine or catch the best- and worst-dressed list the next day on the web.

3. despite my efforts to be grammatically correct and my utter discomfort over a misused apostrophe or homophone, as i have gotten older i catch myself making those same mistakes. all. the. time. and i know better. i see the correct version of the word in my head, yet my fingers type the wrong one. on a regular basis i find my treasonous digits typing, “there” or “their” instead of “they’re.” “it’s” for “its.” “your” for “you’re.” “to” for “too.” even such atrocities ad “sail” for “sale” or “past” for “passed.” i started to keep a list once, but i can’t find it. it’s just as well, because this is, thus far, the most depressing thing to me about aging–even worse than the arthritis.

by the way, if you ever see me write “irregardless,” i beg you to please come and put me (and the rest of the world) out of my misery.

feeling brave? want to join me? you are welcome to reveal three true confessions which you may not be inclined to blog about or post as your facebook status.

my father taught me to look people in the eye when i talk to them. it’s a lesson i’ve appreciated throughout most of my adult life.

they say the eyes are the window to the soul, but i almost consider them a conduit to heaven. to a place and time where we connect with people beyond the confines of the physical. where we–hopefully–have the courage and generosity to see beyond the trappings of physical appearances and discover truth and light. where we can see and love people as they truly are.

i ponder the perplexities of perspective. i know what i see looking out through my own eyes but consider how much i don’t know about how what i see reflected back at me.

i know how it stings when someone doesn’t see or know you as you really are. and how there really is nothing to be done about that except to be true to yourself.

i also know how completely comfortable and safe it feels to be in the presence of people who see you eye to eye and who love and accept you just the way you are.

tonight i thought about the sweet volunteers serving in the temple. strangers, yes. i do not know their respective stories–about their families, their homes, their lives. but as our eyes meet, i know this: these women love the Lord and have dedicated a part of their lives to serve in his house. i recognize the goodness in that act alone and i appreciate their service and their kindness as they–who have given so much more than i–sincerely thank me for being there.

tonight at the temple i felt like my offering–a little of my time, which given, reflects what is in my heart–was accepted.

tonight i read nie’s post and i realized she expressed, so much better than i, what is in my heart. how i am beginning to feel about the love of God for me. how i recognize and appreciate the way God finds simple moments to call us by name and remind us that

he sees us.

he knows our hearts.

he loves and accepts us just the way we are.

…that I’m already linking to my favorite Post of the Week and it’s not yet 7 a.m. on Monday morning?

It just means that I love this Vintage Chica’s blog and her post about perspective today perfectly sums up one of the most important tenets of my personal philosophy. I could tell you exactly at what point in my life I discovered that what she speaks today is true and tell you oh so many ways knowing this makes my world a better place.

But you don’t need to hear it from me.

Just go check out her blog and then get out there and have a great week!

Insomnia won again this morning. But it wasn’t so bad. I just read one of the best blog posts ever.

Thank you Lisa–I love you!

P.S. You look absolutely gorgeous in that picture. Really.

I don’t even remember now how I first stumbled across Jen Lemen. But she has the power to move me with her images and her words.

Today this spoke to me.

Perhaps because I am the mother to three boys I have always been interested in going “to the head of the river.”

Thanks Jen for the stories from Rwanda and for making me think.

In my search for something less brutal to read on the web I’ve come across a couple of links I thought I’d send your way:

Bad news first: The Romney campaign has turned into a bit of a school of hard knocks for the LDS faith. I think this has been hard for us for three reasons.

One, some of the bigotry has not exactly been subtle. I don’t want to add to the cries of “Poor us” we seem to hear now and again, but honestly, I’ve been surprised at what has been allowed and aware that if that kind of talk had been about many other religions, genders and/or races it may not have gone completely unanswered by the PC watchdogs.

Two, while most of us are already aware of that it’s just common decency to be inclusive and tolerant, there are always a few people who need a little reminder. The church has been very public in recent years reminding everyone to be so. It can be a bit disheartening to make an effort to be more tolerant and then sort of get slapped in the face by the intolerance of others toward you.

Three, perhaps part of the reason we were surprised is that it seems of late (and in most places I have lived) people have generally been fairly tolerant and even friendly to us. You go to school and to work with people and you almost forget people of our faith were once horribly persecuted. It’s possible the level of animosity we have been made aware of through the press caught us completely off guard because in recent years we have, for the most part, been treated well by both the people who know us and the press–until now. We thought people liked us and maybe even understood us a little and now we’re finding out (and it seems to be a bit behind our backs) many really don’t. This flashback to junior high has been more than a little painful.

Next: As much as sitting on a big white fluffy cloud, sipping premium hot chocolate and chatting with friends might appeal to me right now, I’m sort of relieved that I already knew there is a little more substance to eternity than simply that. Whew!

Finally, here is a beautiful and tender post from our dear Sister Pottymouth. It gets a “post of the week” nod from me. Please keep Julie in your thoughts and prayers.

(The link to the post is here).
Mother’s Day Smother’s Day. I know it’s all so complicated. I remember when I was young and naive and as I heard various women express their pain over that quintessential Hallmark exploitation I wondered, “How can you not love Mother’s Day?”

Now I am older and wiser and have suffered a few unbearably painful Mother’s Days myself and I am no less conflicted. Yes, I know we should feel grateful and honored and blah blah blah. But it’s hard to feel all those things when the house is a wreck, you are dog tired and the kids are squabbling and everyone forgot or didn’t have time to take an hour out of their own busy lives to at least think about doing some honoring. But most especially, it’s hard to feel happy when you don’t feel like you are a good mother. In some ways I think we bring some of it on ourselves. On the other hand I will admit mothering can be a thankless job and our hearts get broken on so many fronts that sometimes making it a national “holiday” only rubs salt in the wounds.

The other night I was part of a lively discussion in which it was suggested that in order to have a good Mother’s Day we are responsible to make our wishes known to our spouse and offspring. Yet there is also an assumption that we should not want for anything and we are selfish to express the desires of our hearts.

Those of us with sons feel an obligation to prepare them now to honor the women they will marry and teach them to treat the women in their lives like queens. Yet we can be criticized for our inherent need to be treated as such ourselves.

I try to be of the mind that if you have no expectations, you cannot be disappointed. But the truth is I am not perfected enough in my mortal state to not compare some of the sweet and thoughtful acts I see taking place around me and somehow feel I must be less deserving if Mother’s Day seems more like an afterthought or–worse yet–an inconvenience.

And to top it all off we ourselves are sometimes burdened by the expectations of both our own mothers and our mothers-in-law on this day of days (ironic, no?). What’s a girl to do?

Sue has the right idea. And I am going to take it to heart. My usual wish for mother’s day is a clean house. Somehow it never seems capable of cleaning itself, so tomorrow morning I am going to don a happy red apron (thanks Lynda) and some very magical cleaning gloves (thanks La Yen), grab my sweet-smelling method Grapefruit all purpose cleaner and clean with a vigor and good cheer that will easily rival that of Cinderella. (yes, that was intentional.) Then when it gets too hot I will take time for me to spend half an hour or so with my long lost love–quilting. After a pedicure at five I will head for the weekly “family” reunion at Macey’s neighborhood grocery store in order to purchase groceries for crèpes for breakfast for my family and something yet to be determined for dinner for my mom and grandma later on Sunday.

That is the plan. But however the day rolls, I, Pollyanna (that, too) pledge to try to make it a good day.

Whatever this day holds for you, I would sincerely echo the sentiments of Sue and send out a big “Be good to you!” wish to each of you.

p.s. Here’s a question for you: If anyone asked you, what would you say you want/need/desire most on this Mother’s Day? Sincerely, openly and honestly. I’m just curious. And just so you know, if I had a magic wand, I’d love to make it all come true for you.

I am happy for Nie Nie and her perfect day!

(not to mention Mr. Nicholas and his most perfect cheeks.)

But here’s the thing. I don’t know for sure, but it is possible that Nie Nie’s entire day wasn’t completely perfect. She has this beautiful young family. Which means there could’ve been spilt milk. At some point in the day there might have been a skinned knee, tears or a small quarrel. Maybe a touch of fatigue. Even a moment of pure exhaustion. I mean I hope not, but I don’t know.

And that’s the beauty of her post. Recognizing and appreciating a perfect moment and making it into the perfect day. I’d guess even if many of us don’t have an entire perfect day in our near recollection, surely we all have perfect moments from time to time.

The trick is focusing the camera of our remembrance just right so the perfect moment is what the picture is all about and the rest fades into background.