This is the beginning of my journey to independence I suppose. My chance to show a special angel in heaven that she helped me grow some awesome wings and taught me to fly high.
Over the last 4 days I have tried effortlessly to sit down and hash out a tribute to my mom but I just couldn't put together one cohesive blog. Everything seemed like an ADHD kid hyped up on energy drinks and Valium. I'd rush headlong into the effort with a powerful opening statement but I would end up hitting a brick wall of emotions three sentences in and end up sitting on the couch, crying until I was numb.
And it seemed that every other sentence formed in my head was "THIS SUCKS!" so why bother trying right? Well we are down to no days left and it is time for me to put to rest the body of my mom. Tonight is her viewing and tomorrow is her graveside services so this is probably my last chance to give her a tribute that will make the angels in heaven know just how special that woman is to one little girl down here on earth.
But where do I begin? Do I start with the most recent memories and talk about the woman she was at the end of her struggles? Do I talk about the woman that was emotionally burning bridge after bridge because of her anxiety driven actions? The woman who let a fear of falling destroy her chances of regaining her health. Or do I start with my earliest memories? The woman who held us together through countless moves and transitions, And who stood strong by my dad's side as he chased his career all over the globe.
How about I start in the middle. I will start with the woman who kept me from dying.
When I was 16, I was a rebellious mess.. lol But then again show me one emotionally stable 16 year old on this planet! lol But I was lucky because I had my mom. The beginning of that school year I kept getting into fights with my dad about some of the dumbest stuff on this earth. And like all headstrong and stubborn teenagers I was trying to see exactly how powerful I was by pushing his buttons until he broke. And break he did, because heaven forbid he be allowed to lose his temper with his rude and disrespectful daughter!
This series of events led to me slipping into a mental disorder called Clinical Depression. If you want more details, look it up! It ain't pretty to say the least. And for the period of about 4 months I lived in the bottom of my closet constantly crying and wishing I had enough courage to kill myself. Dreading doing such mundane tasks as going to the bathroom because it meant I had to look at my pathetic self in a mirror. I was quiet and apologetic to everyone for everything and it seemed I found some convoluted way to link every wrong thing that happened in the universe back to me and my useless life. Sound like fun so far?
Through all of this I can only imagine what my mom saw as she watched me slip deeper inside my shell and draw further and further away from life. I can only cry for the pain she endured seeing her baby mentally mutilate herself and not know how to throw me a lifeline. It must have been a grueling hell that I pray I will never know.
I remember wanting desperately to reach out to her but saw her as "sleeping with the enemy." There were even countless times that she was holding me during a bad moment, with tears in her own eyes, as she gently reminded me that I was her daughter but "he" was her husband. I was torn and she was torn. It was a family in shreds and it was a nightmare.
Then one day she asked me what I wanted and I made the mistake of telling her what I thought I wanted, which was to end my suffering and to just go away. THAT was the day that she found her strength and found a way to throw me a floatie. She grabbed me fiercely and told me point blank I was not allowed to leave her... EVER!!!! And she vowed to help me get better no matter what it took. Somehow through all my pain and anger I believed her and I had faith that she could do it.
Over the course of the next couple of months we started the discovery process that involved several doctor visits and blood tests to see if I had a chemical imbalance. The results came back with only a slightly off center result but the pediatrician who was our guide, decided to put me on a medication. All seemed good until that jerk decided to throw in one last statement. He said " And it will help with your weight problem." To me that was the final blow and I finally struck bottom. Because now I was not only having a happy problem but I was fat?!?!? Seriously, who gave him his license for destruction? They needed to revoke it immediately!
I walked out of that office feeling less than the poop scrapped off a shoe onto the curb and fully deciding that I would rather die than live. Now you would think that I was fated to exist in a chemical induced emotional coma just waiting for the day to come that the meds stopped working so I could end my own life but it didn't happen that way at all. Mom and I trudged to the truck and hopped in to run the prescription over to the pharmacist; quiet the entire trip. As the pharmacist stood there and patiently explained that I had to take this medication every day without fail at the exact same time, tears slid silently down my face. My mom held my hand as he continued to list the perils and possibilities that it might make me worse or that I might go crazy if I stopped taking it. LIFE SUCKED right then and there worse than it ever has since.
Sullenly, I walked back out to the car with my mom two feet ahead of me. I slid into the truck beside her and she looked at me crying and with tears as big and numerous as mine streaming down her own face, she asked me what I thought. And then she did something I had seen her do countless times but had taken for granted each and every one of them. SHE LISTENED TO ME. I turned to her and broke down completely and begged her not to make me take it. I just knew it would be the end of me and I was terrified that I would give in to the darkness lurking within me if I forgot ONE day. So instead of asking me to just try it she said "Okay." no arguing no badgering just a simple and sweet "Okay." It had the same sound to it as an angel's song from heaven and there appeared on my event horizon a tiny speck of light.
When we got home she started calling our family physician to see if he had any other options for us and asked him many questions about non chemical answers. I numbly sat there at the table as she jotted down names and numbers to what, I had no idea. But as she ended the conversation she had a small smile on her face that calmed me from the inside out.
That day she made me an appointment with a man that I would later refer to as my "happy guide". And for the next year we underwent a transformation as a family that would last a lifetime. We learned to communicate and how to disagree without destruction and we learned how to appreciate one another as unique individuals with strengths and weaknesses. And we learned what our buttons were and how NOT to push them. lol
In addition, I learned that although I was not happy with my dad at times I still loved him very much. And I learned that I had a mom who would stand by my side and walk into hell to drag me back out.
Since then I have had countless chances to practice the lessons that my "Happy Guide" taught me and to find the good in everything. And I have had a chance to repair my relationship with my dad and to become a strong and confident woman. I am a warrior! And it is all because of one woman.... My MOM!
My faith believes that we will be reunited in the bonds of family when I pass on and that the family is eternal. This has it's comforts in a way, but it's not working to erase the emptiness the 30-40 years that stretch between me and our reunion brings to my heart.
It has been 4 days and already I have picked up my phone 4 times to call her. Nothing important, just piddly stuff like the name of our neighbors in Germany or the amount of juice needed for her yummy lemon bars. But now I am on my own and I am scared.
I look at my daughter and wonder if I will have to watch her self destruct as I did and I worry that I will not have the wings strong enough to carry her through it. But then I remember the woman I had to pull me out and I know that if I want to honor her and her life I will do what needs to be done. That doctor she got me was my "Happy Guide" but she has been and will always be my "Life Guide".
I LOVE YOU MOM. I MISS YOU MOM. AND I WILL SEE YOU ON THE OTHER SIDE.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Cecil Gene Shuck 5/18/38 - 9/12/11
Normally I am all about the funny but today is a very somber day. Yesterday, one of my best friend's father passed away and today is the first day of a family learning to deal with a tremendous loss.
Before I say any more, I want to tell you of the first time I met Gene Shuck. I had known Dusti for about 2 years at this point and had been out to her house countless times but it seemed her dad was always working during each visit. On this day though, as Dusti and I were hanging out and talking in the kitchen the door opened up and a stocky little man walked in with a confidence that blew me away. He was covered in dust and smelled of "money", as my grandpa used to call it, and he wore a hat that looked as though it were being held together by sweat and grit. But for all the grime that was just a part of his job, he also had a swagger that screamed of two things, confidence and pride. He was a man that any photographer would have given his left arm to capture because he was a real life COWBOY, crusty boots and all.
As his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the house, he finally caught sight of his wife, his daughter and me standing in the kitchen and a smile softened his face. He waltzed over and as he got closer I saw something that took my breath away completely. LOVE, as deep as the ocean, was shining in his eyes as he looked at his wife and youngest daughter and his joy in seeing them was a thing of pure beauty. The dirt disappeared from his demeanor and all that was left was the purity of a heart that was pleased to pieces with his life and his family.
THIS, my friends, is the man I came to know as my second father. A quiet, assured man who rarely yelled, but if he did it was for good reason. A man who worked hard and spent more time in a saddle than he did on his own two feet. A cowboy who loved the land and had a soft hand for his horse. A father who lead by example instead of needless boasting. A husband that took the time to whirl his blushing bride around the dance floor and spent long hours providing for his family. A father that was a moral beacon to his kids and his community. And a hero to all that came to know him.
Since then me and the Shuck clan have had countless memories together and the stories could fill an entire novel but I want to share one of my favorites. It was a nice sunny day in Mesa, Arizona. Not too hot and not too cold. The kind of weather that screamed for you to grab a chair and bask in the glorious sunlight. To those involved in this memory, I can feel the smile lighting your face already. Yes, this was the day that Gene Shuck decided he needed a tan!
At this point in his life, he had already retired from his work. The shakes his illness gave him had made him unsaddle his pony a few years prior and he spent his days walking around the house and watching TV. Not the life his restless mind could handle very well at all. He was constantly on the prowl for something to occupy his time and to give him a goal. Some goals were better than others for sure. This particular day he decided that his pail legs, that hadn't seem the outside of his worn and dusty jeans in 60+ years, needed to spend a little time in the sun.
He had already been wandering around with only his pants and boots on so it was a simple task to drop the jeans and yes, put the boots back on! And without further thought he stepped out into the back yard and sat down on the stone bench in the middle of the yard. A few minutes later, those of us in the house decided it was a nice day to go sit outside and chat for a few. So with our drinks in hand we stepped out onto the back patio to discover the sight.
At first I was speechless to say the least. I mean how many times are you expecting to see a weathered old cowboy in his tighty whities and boots just relaxed in the sun? But that shock quickly faded and I found myself chuckling uncontrollably. I guess this was not his first tanning session, just the first I got to sit in on, so Dusti and Mom were giving him a work over in the rules of decency. You see the back yard was shared by 6 houses and a few more that had a clear line of vision from upper floors and NO, there was not a privacy fence to speak of. It was a 3 foot tall chain link number that did NOTHING to spare the neighbors from the sight of Gene Shuck's glaringly white legs.
When they asked him what he was doing he did not seem embarrassed or disoriented at all. He simply stated that he was "Gettin a tan." And that's what he did. Of course, over the next couple of weeks they did manage to get him to wear shorts but by the end of the week that cowboy had the prettiest beige legs a diva could hope for. Of course his color did stop just below his knees though. Because, although we got him to wear shorts, we never did get him to take the boots off.
And THAT my friends, is my favorite story of Cecil Gene Shuck!
You know, I can't help but picturing him standing up there at the gates of heaven. His glory shining around him and a garment of pure white encasing his body. The pure glow of a place that honors the strong and faithful of god's servants. As he is invited to come forward, the gown lifts and moves with his confident steps and yes, peeking out from underneath are those weathered and scuffed boots!
I love you Dad! Rest in peace and we will see you soon enough.
Before I say any more, I want to tell you of the first time I met Gene Shuck. I had known Dusti for about 2 years at this point and had been out to her house countless times but it seemed her dad was always working during each visit. On this day though, as Dusti and I were hanging out and talking in the kitchen the door opened up and a stocky little man walked in with a confidence that blew me away. He was covered in dust and smelled of "money", as my grandpa used to call it, and he wore a hat that looked as though it were being held together by sweat and grit. But for all the grime that was just a part of his job, he also had a swagger that screamed of two things, confidence and pride. He was a man that any photographer would have given his left arm to capture because he was a real life COWBOY, crusty boots and all.
As his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the house, he finally caught sight of his wife, his daughter and me standing in the kitchen and a smile softened his face. He waltzed over and as he got closer I saw something that took my breath away completely. LOVE, as deep as the ocean, was shining in his eyes as he looked at his wife and youngest daughter and his joy in seeing them was a thing of pure beauty. The dirt disappeared from his demeanor and all that was left was the purity of a heart that was pleased to pieces with his life and his family.
THIS, my friends, is the man I came to know as my second father. A quiet, assured man who rarely yelled, but if he did it was for good reason. A man who worked hard and spent more time in a saddle than he did on his own two feet. A cowboy who loved the land and had a soft hand for his horse. A father who lead by example instead of needless boasting. A husband that took the time to whirl his blushing bride around the dance floor and spent long hours providing for his family. A father that was a moral beacon to his kids and his community. And a hero to all that came to know him.
Since then me and the Shuck clan have had countless memories together and the stories could fill an entire novel but I want to share one of my favorites. It was a nice sunny day in Mesa, Arizona. Not too hot and not too cold. The kind of weather that screamed for you to grab a chair and bask in the glorious sunlight. To those involved in this memory, I can feel the smile lighting your face already. Yes, this was the day that Gene Shuck decided he needed a tan!
At this point in his life, he had already retired from his work. The shakes his illness gave him had made him unsaddle his pony a few years prior and he spent his days walking around the house and watching TV. Not the life his restless mind could handle very well at all. He was constantly on the prowl for something to occupy his time and to give him a goal. Some goals were better than others for sure. This particular day he decided that his pail legs, that hadn't seem the outside of his worn and dusty jeans in 60+ years, needed to spend a little time in the sun.
He had already been wandering around with only his pants and boots on so it was a simple task to drop the jeans and yes, put the boots back on! And without further thought he stepped out into the back yard and sat down on the stone bench in the middle of the yard. A few minutes later, those of us in the house decided it was a nice day to go sit outside and chat for a few. So with our drinks in hand we stepped out onto the back patio to discover the sight.
At first I was speechless to say the least. I mean how many times are you expecting to see a weathered old cowboy in his tighty whities and boots just relaxed in the sun? But that shock quickly faded and I found myself chuckling uncontrollably. I guess this was not his first tanning session, just the first I got to sit in on, so Dusti and Mom were giving him a work over in the rules of decency. You see the back yard was shared by 6 houses and a few more that had a clear line of vision from upper floors and NO, there was not a privacy fence to speak of. It was a 3 foot tall chain link number that did NOTHING to spare the neighbors from the sight of Gene Shuck's glaringly white legs.
When they asked him what he was doing he did not seem embarrassed or disoriented at all. He simply stated that he was "Gettin a tan." And that's what he did. Of course, over the next couple of weeks they did manage to get him to wear shorts but by the end of the week that cowboy had the prettiest beige legs a diva could hope for. Of course his color did stop just below his knees though. Because, although we got him to wear shorts, we never did get him to take the boots off.
And THAT my friends, is my favorite story of Cecil Gene Shuck!
You know, I can't help but picturing him standing up there at the gates of heaven. His glory shining around him and a garment of pure white encasing his body. The pure glow of a place that honors the strong and faithful of god's servants. As he is invited to come forward, the gown lifts and moves with his confident steps and yes, peeking out from underneath are those weathered and scuffed boots!
I love you Dad! Rest in peace and we will see you soon enough.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Time to weed the garden....
Ten years ago this was a beginning not an end. The beginning of hundreds of thousands of families being torn apart by a brutal act that, while it claimed the lives of nearly 3000 people, also spread the diseased seeds of hatred to millions more. Some seeds grew fast while others have lain dormant until they received the right (or should I say wrong) encouragement to grow. But all have busted up the foundation of our sense of security with their roots.
I am not anti-war, anti-government or anti-muslim but today I am definitely anti-hate! And today, I plan to take one of those seeds that have grown in my heart and pull it out; roots and all! Then I am going to use it to fuel a fire for change. I will use the light from that fire to illuminate truth instead of the lies that fertilize those seeds. And I will use the flame to light a fire under my ass when I grow complacent and forget to be vigilant in my gardening.
My name is Loreen Herman and I promise that I am going to support my country, love my soldiers, raise my children to appreciate freedom and promote understanding to all that meet me. Why? Because I am a child of god, I am an American, I am a supporter of democracy and I am the beginning of change.
I am not anti-war, anti-government or anti-muslim but today I am definitely anti-hate! And today, I plan to take one of those seeds that have grown in my heart and pull it out; roots and all! Then I am going to use it to fuel a fire for change. I will use the light from that fire to illuminate truth instead of the lies that fertilize those seeds. And I will use the flame to light a fire under my ass when I grow complacent and forget to be vigilant in my gardening.
My name is Loreen Herman and I promise that I am going to support my country, love my soldiers, raise my children to appreciate freedom and promote understanding to all that meet me. Why? Because I am a child of god, I am an American, I am a supporter of democracy and I am the beginning of change.
Monday, August 15, 2011
This one is for Jean
Most people call them monsters-in-law
But they never met the one that was mine
And while the marriage became a flaw
In the “monster” a true friend I did find
We’ve traveled some roads together
Both funny and painful days
The love has grown beyond measure
Though we often go our own ways
We touch base here and there
Using the kids to connect up
But even without them to share
The friendship was bound to develop
She’s helped me through countless crises
Jumped in to the heart of the fire
Her hand of friendship strengthens
When my life is stretched thin as a wire
This is my way to say thank you
For treating me so tender
And for all that you've helped me through
Your always my favorite “monster”
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Timing is everything
I had a religious insight today and needed to put it down somewhere so I chose here. Lucky I had this available or my little moment of pure genius might have slipped away with the next minor crisis.
Heavenly father gives a glimpse at the future but his timing is undetermined. He does not say when it is to happen just that it will happen. His words are without fail according to many biblical statements. So knowing this we should all listen and obey. Yet we don't. We prefer to procrastinate and hope to see tell tail signs to warn us only moments before the doom. And amazingly enough we have JUST THAT! We call it the Holy Spirit. He tells us it may happen and the spirit screams that it is happening NOW!
I have been told to be vigilant in putting my car keys in their proper place, in organizing things properly instead of stuffing, in properly reading my scriptures every day. Yet with all these small, medium and large instructions I have waited until I found a sign that something bad was about to happen. There have been countless times that the keys were lost to the underside of a laundry basket. A billion times of not being able to find scarves or gloves on the first snow day. And days filled with pain, anger and loneliness that could be relieved by reaching for the book that is a living testament to the joys, patience and companionship of my father in heaven.
But instead I wait for the signs. WHAT A MORON I AM! Do I really need to learn the lesson of the lost keys on the day I am late for a job interview? Do I really need to wait for snow flakes to organize my "stuff"? And do I need to wait for the still small voice to urge me to reach out for a solution? The answer to all of these things is NO!!!!!!!!!
So I guess I need to remember to prepare for that which my father has been warning me may come. And to stop waiting for the holy spirit to interpret the words with a sense of danger. His timing is one that has no determination but thankfully the holy spirit's prompting is much more knowledgeable about the time. So believe thy Father to begin with and only rely on the spirit as a reminder never as a final prompting.
Heavenly father gives a glimpse at the future but his timing is undetermined. He does not say when it is to happen just that it will happen. His words are without fail according to many biblical statements. So knowing this we should all listen and obey. Yet we don't. We prefer to procrastinate and hope to see tell tail signs to warn us only moments before the doom. And amazingly enough we have JUST THAT! We call it the Holy Spirit. He tells us it may happen and the spirit screams that it is happening NOW!
I have been told to be vigilant in putting my car keys in their proper place, in organizing things properly instead of stuffing, in properly reading my scriptures every day. Yet with all these small, medium and large instructions I have waited until I found a sign that something bad was about to happen. There have been countless times that the keys were lost to the underside of a laundry basket. A billion times of not being able to find scarves or gloves on the first snow day. And days filled with pain, anger and loneliness that could be relieved by reaching for the book that is a living testament to the joys, patience and companionship of my father in heaven.
But instead I wait for the signs. WHAT A MORON I AM! Do I really need to learn the lesson of the lost keys on the day I am late for a job interview? Do I really need to wait for snow flakes to organize my "stuff"? And do I need to wait for the still small voice to urge me to reach out for a solution? The answer to all of these things is NO!!!!!!!!!
So I guess I need to remember to prepare for that which my father has been warning me may come. And to stop waiting for the holy spirit to interpret the words with a sense of danger. His timing is one that has no determination but thankfully the holy spirit's prompting is much more knowledgeable about the time. So believe thy Father to begin with and only rely on the spirit as a reminder never as a final prompting.
Friday, July 1, 2011
We are the "Peanut Brittle Family"
We are the "Peanut Brittle Family". To those that read this and wonder what it means then read on. To those that know, and are smiling from ear to ear, well you can read on to....
Today I did something that I have been thinking about for a month now. I created a Group on facebook to gather together all those awesome people on facebook that I call "Kin folk". And with this group a chance for us to carry that spirit of the family reunion from day to day or week to week (depending on how often we all facebook).
I did this because at the reunion this year I only knew about 10% of the people that were there and the ones that I thought I knew their connection I was often WRONG. It's doubtful that my memory issues can be blamed on old age at 37 so I am going to put it down to an addled brain due to input overload. In other words-- We have gotten too big for my memory banks.
I used to be so proud of the fact that I could identify My Great Uncle Odell's grandkids from the crowd but that was an easy one; tall, skinny and buzzed hair cuts if they were boys! Now I am being introduced to Great Aunt Marian's Great great grandkids and my hope of identifying them without them being attached to their momma's leg is darn near impossible.
When my daughter made a new friend at the resort playground I was pleased as punch that she had a diversion for entertainment other than ME, but later that night when her "new friend" wandered into Margie's campsite with her Grandma Karen I just giggled. Oh Great! They are cousins! And this was the theme for the weekend. Yes, "We are related?!?" was a common thought in my head during the next 4 days and I realized at the end that I needed some how to figure it out.
So here is a chance for us all to join in the fun, gather our knowledge, share the pictures, identify the parents!!!, catch up and laugh at or with each other as only family can.
For 37 years now I have been attending the "Hatch" family reunion and consider it to be some of the best times of my life. After all, let's face it, THESE PEOPLE ARE CRAZY JUST LIKE ME! Who else can better identify with my weirdness than those that share a bit of my blood and so many of my memories? I hope that this group gives us all a chance to come to appreciate our past and meet the generations that will be making our future. After all we are the "Peanut Brittle Family!" because sometimes it takes a whole lot of sweetness to keep the NUTS together-------------
-------------And I love every one of you.
Today I did something that I have been thinking about for a month now. I created a Group on facebook to gather together all those awesome people on facebook that I call "Kin folk". And with this group a chance for us to carry that spirit of the family reunion from day to day or week to week (depending on how often we all facebook).
I did this because at the reunion this year I only knew about 10% of the people that were there and the ones that I thought I knew their connection I was often WRONG. It's doubtful that my memory issues can be blamed on old age at 37 so I am going to put it down to an addled brain due to input overload. In other words-- We have gotten too big for my memory banks.
I used to be so proud of the fact that I could identify My Great Uncle Odell's grandkids from the crowd but that was an easy one; tall, skinny and buzzed hair cuts if they were boys! Now I am being introduced to Great Aunt Marian's Great great grandkids and my hope of identifying them without them being attached to their momma's leg is darn near impossible.
When my daughter made a new friend at the resort playground I was pleased as punch that she had a diversion for entertainment other than ME, but later that night when her "new friend" wandered into Margie's campsite with her Grandma Karen I just giggled. Oh Great! They are cousins! And this was the theme for the weekend. Yes, "We are related?!?" was a common thought in my head during the next 4 days and I realized at the end that I needed some how to figure it out.
So here is a chance for us all to join in the fun, gather our knowledge, share the pictures, identify the parents!!!, catch up and laugh at or with each other as only family can.
For 37 years now I have been attending the "Hatch" family reunion and consider it to be some of the best times of my life. After all, let's face it, THESE PEOPLE ARE CRAZY JUST LIKE ME! Who else can better identify with my weirdness than those that share a bit of my blood and so many of my memories? I hope that this group gives us all a chance to come to appreciate our past and meet the generations that will be making our future. After all we are the "Peanut Brittle Family!" because sometimes it takes a whole lot of sweetness to keep the NUTS together-------------
-------------And I love every one of you.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Martha and Christian's Baptism
Martha and Christian ----Welcome to today. Your Baptism!
Although I am sure you know why this day is important let me share with you two a few of the reasons according to the church and then a few of the reasons according to what I have personally witnessed.
First We Must Be Baptized for the Remission of Our Sins. Consider the healing waters like a seal to keep our past from continuing to hurt us.
Second We Must Be Baptized to Become Members of the Church of Jesus Christ and through this membership we will have access to an army of amazing people to help us stay the path.
Third We Must Be Baptized before We Can Receive the Gift of the Holy Ghost for without that baptism we cannot offer the holy spirit a clean home for him to dwell within us as our constant companion.
Fourth We Must Be Baptized to Show Obedience for not even Jesus Christ was excused from this necessary process in Heavenly Father’s plan.
And finally Fifth We Must Be Baptized to Enter the Celestial Kingdom and receive our blessings on high.
When I woke up this morning not much stood out as being extraordinary. The sun was shining as should have been expected. My kids were bouncing off the walls as should have been expected and I was breathing as should have been expected.
But that is not true… Not all things are “as should have expected”. They are “as could be hoped for”. After all there are no guarantees on anything from the weather to the behavior of our children. But we do have some control…
You see when we came down from heaven to assume our mortal bodies it was with full knowledge that we would have to endure unexpected results during our existence; pain, suffering, disappointment and death. But we were also promised a chance to learn, laugh, love and choose.
So far not all my choices have been good ones. In fact if I put the good versus the bad on a scale I’m pretty sure the bad side wouldn’t even begin to lift off the floor but it doesn’t matter anymore. You see two years ago I made the same choices you are making today.
First I made the choice to give my faith to Heavenly Father and that there was a bigger meaning to life than to just react to the world around me.
Then I made the choice to ask for forgiveness and to accept that I was responsible for the place I was in through my poor choices.
And lastly I made the choice to change my path by getting baptized and accepting Heavenly Father’s plan for salvation into my life.
On that day the scale was cleared off. No longer was I burdened or stuck to the floor by my past. The weight was taken off my shoulders by someone who could handle it way better than I ever could. And I have been given the chance to start fresh and anew in filing the scale. Of course I need to remind you that he did not lift me to heaven on that day. I still have to remember to choose the right with everything I do. Heavenly Father simple cleared off the score from my past misdeeds.
I still struggle to make good choices on many occasions but thanks to the plan of salvation and my baptism I have a chance to see the scale stay pretty even and I can work diligently to tip the scales towards a righteous existence filled with all the blessings Heavenly Father wants to bestow on me.
Since then I have woken up to many many days (and hopefully many many more), and some days the sun is shining, some days the snow is sparkling, some days are heavy with rain and some days are all three seeing as we do live in UTAH.
But they are no longer just days. They are a chance for me to pray, to study my scriptures and to continue to develop my relationship with Heavenly Father. And they are a chance for me to recall my baptismal covenants and to strive to keep up my side of the deal.
So I guess what I want to say is that today is not just a day. It’s your baptism and I pray that you never forget your humble beginning or the spiritual cleansing you will receive on this day. June 18th 2011 the beginning of all days for you two. Just as I still remember Mine, April 24th 2009
And I say this in the name of Jesus Christ. AMEN
Saturday, June 4, 2011
They said: I said (this is on going dialogue)
by Loreen Herman on Sunday, May 15, 2011 at 8:33pm
Robert: Mommy MOMMY MOMMMMY! Here Mommy.. HERE! MOMMY HERE!
Me: (as I put out my hand I was VERY distracted) What ya got bud?
Robert: WOOK MOMMY!
Me: (LOUD SCREAM!) OMG IT'S A BUG!
(bare in mind she is a 5 yr old DRAMA queen)
Me: I'M JUST GETTING STARTED! It's gonna get worse!
Robert: NO PINCH ME MOMMY!
(During sacrament while the bread was making the rounds at full throttle lungs)
Me: Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
Atira: Mommy, I have skin right?
Me: Yes, you do. (?????)
Atira: So that makes me SKINny right?
Me: I LOVE YOU ATIRA!!!!! Me too!
Atira: (Various whining noises)
Me: Get out of my kitchen if you are going to just stand there and cry!
Atira: I'm not crying I'm BOOBING!
Me: Well excuuuuuuuse me!
Atira: Why do I have to take a bath? I am already wet!
(used the water hose to spray off my patio while the kids played in the mud)
Me: Lick your arm.
Atira: Eww gross! No way!
Me: Now get in the tub.
Me: OWWWWWW! Robert do not hit me!
Robert: Sowwwy Mom!
(said with a mournful look on his face and him petting the impact sight softly)
15 minutes later
Me: Robert! Stop hitting the couch!
Robert: Sowwy couch!
(said with a mournful look on his face and him petting the impact sight softly)
BA HA HA HA- So much for feeling more important than the furniture.
Atira: It's NOT FAIR!!!!!
(said while huffing down the hall to finish cleaning her room)
Me: I love you!
(shouted down the hall)
Me: Damion!
(whispered softly)
Robert: Mommy! Wake up mommy! Come 'ere Mommy!
(at 3:30 AM as he drags me down the hall)
Me: WHAT DID YOU DOOOOOO?!?!?!
Robert: Is peddy huh mommy Is peddy?
Me: Oh honey! It is beautiful but where in the world did you get the markers from?!?
(said while scrubbing the kitchen floor of his Picasso)
Mother's Day Sacrament Talk ~ What does Motherhood mean to me?
When I was asked to give a talk about what it means to be a mother on Mother's Day I asked if it was because of Atira. You see, today is my daughter’s birthday and the day I became a mother for the first time 5 years ago. And boy what a journey this has been. As many of you have been here during the journey I want to just highlight a few of the things that this subject means to me.
First of all, it means that you pray in sacrament with one eye open.
It means you find countless tissues disintegrated in every pocket of every skirt, shirt or pant you put through the washer but never seem to have one when they actually sneeze.
It means that even a face smeared with peanut butter, jelly and what you hope is applesauce is still deemed kissable when requested.
It means you get to try to keep from laughing when they pray feverishly to Heavenly Father for “Mommy to give them some more of their Easter candy” in the Morning Prayer.
It means that as good as it feels to cuddle with them on the couch reading books, eventually I have to let them go and make a hot dinner because they already had cereal for one meal that day.
It means that your son’s heartfelt good job (given with two thumbs up) when you announce that dinner is done is all the praise you need to make your heart soar.
It means that when they fall asleep in the car you willingly burn off an extra $10 in gas driving aimlessly just so they have a good nap.
It means that broccoli is going to be the greatest war we will ever wage against our kids.
It means that a boo boo’s location determines if we kiss it or their fore head.
It means that when the ice cream truck rings its bell 10 minutes before dinner, I turn the volume up on the TV and hope they don’t hear it.
It means that when the entire chapel all giggles at someone’s talk during sacrament I am regretfully too busy mediating whose crayon was whose and missed the funny part.
It means that I am learning to temper my justice with mercy and to pick my battles. Especially during sacrament.
It means that I can no longer turn an indifferent eye or ear to the suffering of the world for I now know somewhere someone is living in fear of loosing their child too early.
It also means that while heavenly father has provided the plan of salvation I have to constantly remember to light the path for them. And that while I am new to the path and still find it a bit rocky at times still I know it is the path to joy.
Recently I was introduced to an internet blog or online journal of a mother who has two children. One of which is currently staying at Primary children’s while he is undergoing chemotherapy in an effort to save his tender young body from leukemia. While she stays there day in and day out her husband and other young son come to visit and play in the common areas of the hospital but because of her youngest son’s delicate immune system the two boys can have little to no contact with each other. You can feel in her words the desperation she feels to have her children together in one place so she can love on them both and the way she constantly struggles to decide if she has been neglectful of the older one because of the immense needs of the baby.
I think about how it is to want to be there for two children in two different places. About how there is so much we try to do for our kids but in times like this we are forced to choose where our efforts will be applied.
And I think about the one who is suffering and know that if it were me I would be in that hospital room too because ultimately, we would not want them to suffer alone. Seems like when our babies are sick or hurting is when a mother feels her full force. We learn that strength is not something you have but something you receive. Strength is our calling. Sometimes our strength is stretched so thin we feel like one more little jab and the whole balloon is going to pop. Yet when we are asked to be just a bit stronger or give more than we know we have left in us we still say yes and miraculously we receive just the right amount of what we need to continue to fight.
You see, through Heavenly Father, we have a never ending supply source of wisdom, strength, knowledge, flexibility and soft shoulders. We also need to remember that Heavenly father did not put us on this earth one at a time to endure to the end alone. He has provided us with an amazing support league who know what we are feeling and can empathize with our every struggle. It has a billion members growing strong and they are there to offer a knowing smile and helpful hints as we journey on the path of motherhood.
Whether you are a mother of children who are young, teenagers, grownups, adopted miracles, foster children, children that returned home early, or you have simply been seen as a mother by someone young in your life, you are a part of this movement and you know the goal; To impart our wisdom and the wisdom of heavenly father in hopes of helping them to find the smoothest surface to walk on and to encourage them to stay on the path.
Some days it seems like an uphill battle with little to no ground gained but every so often during our night time prayer I can get them both to cross their arms reverently and bow their heads without being urged to do so. At this point the well of hope and strength is renewed and I know that one day soon I can close both eyes in prayer at church.
First of all, it means that you pray in sacrament with one eye open.
It means you find countless tissues disintegrated in every pocket of every skirt, shirt or pant you put through the washer but never seem to have one when they actually sneeze.
It means that even a face smeared with peanut butter, jelly and what you hope is applesauce is still deemed kissable when requested.
It means you get to try to keep from laughing when they pray feverishly to Heavenly Father for “Mommy to give them some more of their Easter candy” in the Morning Prayer.
It means that as good as it feels to cuddle with them on the couch reading books, eventually I have to let them go and make a hot dinner because they already had cereal for one meal that day.
It means that your son’s heartfelt good job (given with two thumbs up) when you announce that dinner is done is all the praise you need to make your heart soar.
It means that when they fall asleep in the car you willingly burn off an extra $10 in gas driving aimlessly just so they have a good nap.
It means that broccoli is going to be the greatest war we will ever wage against our kids.
It means that a boo boo’s location determines if we kiss it or their fore head.
It means that when the ice cream truck rings its bell 10 minutes before dinner, I turn the volume up on the TV and hope they don’t hear it.
It means that when the entire chapel all giggles at someone’s talk during sacrament I am regretfully too busy mediating whose crayon was whose and missed the funny part.
It means that I am learning to temper my justice with mercy and to pick my battles. Especially during sacrament.
It means that I can no longer turn an indifferent eye or ear to the suffering of the world for I now know somewhere someone is living in fear of loosing their child too early.
It also means that while heavenly father has provided the plan of salvation I have to constantly remember to light the path for them. And that while I am new to the path and still find it a bit rocky at times still I know it is the path to joy.
Recently I was introduced to an internet blog or online journal of a mother who has two children. One of which is currently staying at Primary children’s while he is undergoing chemotherapy in an effort to save his tender young body from leukemia. While she stays there day in and day out her husband and other young son come to visit and play in the common areas of the hospital but because of her youngest son’s delicate immune system the two boys can have little to no contact with each other. You can feel in her words the desperation she feels to have her children together in one place so she can love on them both and the way she constantly struggles to decide if she has been neglectful of the older one because of the immense needs of the baby.
I think about how it is to want to be there for two children in two different places. About how there is so much we try to do for our kids but in times like this we are forced to choose where our efforts will be applied.
And I think about the one who is suffering and know that if it were me I would be in that hospital room too because ultimately, we would not want them to suffer alone. Seems like when our babies are sick or hurting is when a mother feels her full force. We learn that strength is not something you have but something you receive. Strength is our calling. Sometimes our strength is stretched so thin we feel like one more little jab and the whole balloon is going to pop. Yet when we are asked to be just a bit stronger or give more than we know we have left in us we still say yes and miraculously we receive just the right amount of what we need to continue to fight.
You see, through Heavenly Father, we have a never ending supply source of wisdom, strength, knowledge, flexibility and soft shoulders. We also need to remember that Heavenly father did not put us on this earth one at a time to endure to the end alone. He has provided us with an amazing support league who know what we are feeling and can empathize with our every struggle. It has a billion members growing strong and they are there to offer a knowing smile and helpful hints as we journey on the path of motherhood.
Whether you are a mother of children who are young, teenagers, grownups, adopted miracles, foster children, children that returned home early, or you have simply been seen as a mother by someone young in your life, you are a part of this movement and you know the goal; To impart our wisdom and the wisdom of heavenly father in hopes of helping them to find the smoothest surface to walk on and to encourage them to stay on the path.
Some days it seems like an uphill battle with little to no ground gained but every so often during our night time prayer I can get them both to cross their arms reverently and bow their heads without being urged to do so. At this point the well of hope and strength is renewed and I know that one day soon I can close both eyes in prayer at church.
"Spot" the Marble Molly - ??, 2011-March 29th, 2011
Bowl-side services were short but poignant. After Atira gave a brief opening prayer her brother Robert delivered the Eulogy which ended with two thumbs up and a heart felt "Good Job!" Pall bearer for the ceremony was "Mom" and honorary pallbearers were "Nina" the catfish, "Orange" the guppy and "Princess" the teddy bear. An account has been established with the Midvale City Water and Sewer Division to cover the funeral costs and condolences may be left under the comments of this announcement. Thank you all for your prayers in our time of need.
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