More than Butterfly wings

I'm just a future butterfly
Sitting here in my cacoon.
I'm growing stretching, moving toward being greater than the moon

Others see a snake egg
Others just a rock
It doesnt bother me
for I know who I am as I take my stock
A person of great worth to God, For He sent His only Son
I am worth more than  their vile thoughts.
a broken vessel here to dwell to somehow heal myself
He helps and points to broken pieces
He helps me with control
He helps me remake the broken
He helps me see the others who
are more than they think they could be.

There eyes see only outside, He see's the entire me
I know  what I mean to Him and what I'm meant to be

I'm worth the pain He went through
I'm worth the continued search
I'm worth more than any precious gold
That you could find here on this earth.

For I am more than Butterfly wings
and pretty little spots
I'm more than flutters in the wind
I'm more than what you thought
I'm more than what the others say, or think or feel toward me
I'm trying to be what my Heavenly Father meant when He planted me

I'm more than just a little butterfly
growing stretching,being more than just mere thought
Heavenly Beings up above, who saw what I could be
planted me; pruned me; grew me; into something more than what you see.

The dish!

When I was a little girl my parents had a small dish in their bedroom that sat on the dresser. It was a very old dish that had a great family history. It was a family heirloom that I was only allowed to look at. My Dad would put his loose change in it .When the dish was full he would then empty the dish and put the money in an old pickle jar in his closet. The jar was so big and full and there was never a time that I could lift it. The dish was white and silver and purple and was the shape of an oval. It was very old, it was handmade and hand painted, of some type of china. I’m not sure what kind, I just knew it was delicate and very precious to my family, and could be easily broken. For as long as I could remember that dish sat on my father’s dresser. This dish was very special as it was not only old but because of the story behind it. My ancestor Karen Marie Neilson made and carried this dish all the way from Denmark when she came to America and then on to Utah. This dish was the physical symbol of her courage, sacrifice and dedication to the church. It was the living embodiment of her testimony. It had come to represent all she had given up and done for our family. When I was a grown married woman my mom decided since her children were all grown that she could put it on a shelf to show the importance of the dish. It lived on the shelf for many years with grand kids and friends visiting their home and an occasional admiration of the dish. and when anyone would ask she would proudly speak of the sacrifice it took for her ancestor to come to America and join the church. We were all proud of the dish. One day a family came to visit that was traveling through town on vacation. They were the family of my sister’s friend who was home from College. It was a large family and they had just enjoyed a good meal and the younger boys were beginning to get anxious to move as boys will do, when have been in a car all day. One of them had a ball and they began to gently toss it back and forth. The quiet game quickly became more than it should have been. My mom saw the lack of wisdom such a decision could be so she began to gently suggest they go outside with the ball to play. The ball hit the shelf, knocking the dish to the floor. The plate shattered. It was broken beyond repair in such small pieces that it was difficult to salvage all the pieces. The mother of the boys was mortified and began to help cleaning apologizing the whole time. She unknowingly, was making the matter worse by vacuuming up any useable pieces and throwing them away. My mom smiled and graciously said thank you it was just a plate. Don’t worry about it, it was nothing important. Later my mom went through the garbage to try and salvage any bigger pieces hoping she could do something with it. She also cried in her room as she called me and told me what had happened. I was the one who  who was to receive it as her inheritance. I was the daughter who had been named for that long ago ancestor ,who had made all the sacrifice’s. As the I listened to my mother I asked her “did you get mad did you tell her what the dish meant?" I was shocked and little annoyed myself. Mom replied no it was over and done with, I didn’t want her to feel bad about it, there was nothing else to be done. I got off the phone and wept not because of the dish but because it was the forgiveness my mother had shown, the compassion she had shown the mother and the boys. I cried with the realization that this sacred family heirloom was not the dish, it was the testimonies that have lived on down through the generations. It was living as Christ had, it was through staying true and honoring Karen Marie's sacrifice by making my own sacrifice's. That was the true heirloom. Some heirlooms can’t be held or seen. Some are shown in who we are. Some are shown in how we live our lives. We all have people, who have done something that tempts us to not forgive, or have done something hurtful on purpose or by accident. We all have Moments in our lives, when there is nothing else to be done, but to just forgive. Just like this dish was fragile, our testimonies are fragile too. I hope I can recognize the true heirloom to be received and to be given.

"My Parent's would kill Me!"

What my kids really mean when they tell you that their parents would kill them.

 As I have seen my children hit puberty and embark on the oh so joyous High school years I am finding myself encountering a whole different philosophy of parenting that somewhat surprises me and I find myself at a loss for words.  I know,  Karen at a loss for words? Is that possible? Yes how do I address without stepping on your parenting toes, but when I thought about it, I came to the conclusion that I must. In fact you will find by the end of this article that you in a way are stepping on my parenting toes. So I decided to lay all the cards on the table and let them fall where they may. If I offend that is not my intent. My intent is to tell you where I am coming from, and what I see.

When my parents grew up in the 50's they both came from a simpler time in a lot of ways. They talk of how everyone knew who the  kids were that pushed the rules and what they were doing by what they wore. The girls who were loose,  pierced their ears and wore leather skirts and the boys who were rough and drank and smoked, slicked back their hair and wore leather jackets.  They had parties with drinking just like young adults did in the 70's,80's and 90's, and yes even today. My own mother was taken to one on a date. There of course was much more than drinking going on at these parties.  She left by the way.

In the 70's this happened as well. Young adults getting together to party on the weekends. Drinking was still available. There is always someone's parents who not only turns a blind eye but actively participates in buying the booze, in order to feel loved, appreciated, or so their child will be the cool kid in the class. The drugs were harder by then and the sexual revolution was in full swing so of course there was much more sex. The music was hard and loud and whatever you wanted to do, you could as long as you didn't hurt anyone.

The 80's hit and it was the same story all over again with kids going to drinking parties. Nothing was different it was the same old story told every decade, and every decade thinking they were the first to sneak past the parents and fool them. Wait a minute this is where it goes a little different. 

When I was in High school there were a handful  of later -day Saint parents who started telling their kids it was o.k. to go to the parties as long as they didn't drink. Tell their children that they in fact are doing the drinkers a favor as your friends are going to drink anyway and they need someone to be the designated driver. You are preventing a serious accident. (enabling at it's best) Another argument was my kids are going to go anyway I might as well know where they are so they aren't afraid of calling if they get over their head. 

All of these excuses sounded good to a young adult, who wants to be with their friends and not appear to be all that different. Remember when being different was the worst thing ever. Remember when having a certain hand bag or the right shoes was a must? I remember and I understand. You want your kids to be popular you want your kids to fit in, you want your kids to have friends, you want them to be happy.  ( Remember that Wickedness never was Happiness)

It doesn't end here with just your kids though. In your mind you start looking at so and so's kids and you wonder why their parents are so mean. Why won't they let their kids attend this kind of party? You tell yourself what your doing isn't wrong so what's the problem with Brother and Sister so and so? The next thing you know you are lecturing the a fore mentioned parents on them holding their kids back. With questions like don't you trust your kids? Don't you think they can handle the peer pressure? Don't you want to give them an opportunity to prove that they can handle it? They have to be tested sometime, what better time than when they are in my house and I can help them? 

You question the members kids as to why they don't go to the parties and they being awkward teenager's tell you the first thing that pops into their heads....no really it's the second thing that pops into their heads. I will tell you the first thought later. "Mom and Dad would kill me, I could never go to a party like that." You are now vindicated they are just too controlling of their children. You couldn't possibly be wrong because you were in High School and you don't want your kids to go through what you went through, or what ever your reason. 

Let me take the time to tell you the answers to the questions you just posed in the previous two paragraphs. 

Why don't I let my kids attend drinking parties? We have been commanded to stand in holy places. I want my children to be in holy places at all times. A drinking party with drugs and other questionable behavior is not a holy place for any later-day Saint to be. 

Don't you trust your kids? Actually I do. I think they are the best kids ever and can handle just about anything Heavenly Father tests them with in this life. What I don't trust is your kids and everyone else that is at said party. I don't trust them to leave my kids alone when they say they don't drink.I don't trust them not to put something in their drink, just to see what would happen.  I don't trust the adversary to stay away and not tempt them when they are at said party. I don't trust what the consequences might be, if my kids were at said party.

Don't you think they can handle the peer pressure? NO!  children's brains are not fully developed until they are into their early 20's.The part that develops last is reasoning and judgement. Are you serious? These are children. As an adult, I have a hard time standing up to people who are making wrong choices and pressuring me into things. As an adult it takes me time to reason out questions and situations. Why would I think my kids can handle it who are not fully developed, who are still developing self worth and confidence in their choices.

Don't you want to give them a chance to prove they can handle it? They have to be tested sometime why not when they live at home when you can help them?

I'm sorry to be rude but I can only answer this one with a question. Why would you want to put your children in this kind of situation? That is like saying my 7 year old knows that it is dangerous to take too many gummy vitamens but I'm going to not only give them the bottle to play with but open it. I trust them they know right from wrong. I have never felt it was my job as a parent to put my kids in situations to test them to see if they will pass or fail. It is my job as a parent to teach them right from wrong period. 

 The point of this life is to bring us closer to our Heavenly Father and the Savior. So we can repent and go home. It is not to constantly put yourself or others in circumstances that will put your eternal salvation at risk. 

My oldest son went on a mission  for our church. The goal is that he will come home spiritually stronger. On this mission he has certain rules that will help him stay spiritually safe. He chose this, we support him. We are counting on him to keep the rules. He may break some of the rules and if he does their will be consequences. These consequences could be spiritually deadly. Why not have rules in our home and family that will keep us spiritually safe?

On asking my children why they don't go to parties? Let me say I was  asked  the same question as a teenager and I gave the same answer. My parents would kill me. Now my children know I wouldn't kill them. They know there will be consequences though for doing things that we don't want them to do. They will be punished. If they sneak out, that is their right, they will do it knowing there will be a consequence. So brace yourself. When kids say their parents would kill them they are saying I don't want to. They are saying why do I have to explain to this adult why I choose to follow the Prophet? They are saying I trust and love my parents and I don't want to disappoint them. They are saying going to a drinking party is wrong and I don't want to participate. My husband and I have given our kids an out to any and all activities that border on maybe not church standards, and they know it. They can just pull out the my mom and dad would kill me card, and voila like magic they are off the hook of explaining to whomever is asking their motives. They don't have to explain to every Tom and Dick and Sally why they don't date before 16, why they don't drink, why they don't do just about everything that a lot of kids are doing.  Just blame me and Dad and we again save the day. Isn't that my job?

Now to all of you out there in internet land who are saying they have to stand up sometime. Your right they do, but it will be when they are ready, when Heavenly Father says they can handle it. Not as pre- pubescent 12 and 13 year old's or 14, 15, who psychologist say aren't ready for dating 16, or 17 year old's who are just learning how to say no thank you with out sounding like a jerk.

We have set our family standards and rules on the For the Strength of the Youth pamphlet given out by the church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. (the Mormons) So it concerns me when members  of our church ask me questions to the ones similar to ones I posed above, and yes I have gotten everyone of those questions. As latter-day Saints we should know the standards given by our leaders. The pamphlet to our family is not just a guide to use that we can slip or slide one way or the other, to us  it is scripture. To us it is a way to stay safe. I have to admit I like rules, I'm not a person who likes to think too hard on a subject. I like knowing that if I do a.b.c., then e.f.g. will happen. I know that if we place our trust in our Heavenly Father and listen to and follow the prophet we all will have less to worry about and be safer both spiritually and physically. So I'm sorry if our family choices as to how we are going to live make you uncomfortable, that is not our intent. In fact it does not reflect on you at all. We don't care what you do... well we do a little because we want all to be happy and safe, but you have free will and I won't judge you as I hope you won't judge me.

It is the week before Christmas and I sit down to write this as a mother about to see her son make a sacrifice. It has become apparent to me that I have been selfish. I am a mother who doesn't like to share her kids. I have always been exceedingly aware of how short a time I have with my children, from the moment that they entered my life.  When each of my 3 boys was born I immediately thought, if there is a war the Government has the right to take them from me through the draft. I know.... just a tad melodramatic. J1 is my first and he came into this world under difficult circumstances. The pregnancy caused toxemia, causing an early delivery that almost killed him. Which makes this all the more painful, as I send him out into the world, to in a way give him back to the Lord, for His use.
I am like Hannah of old who prayed for a healthy child, promising I would raise him up to the Lord for His service. Well the time to pay is now, and I am having a hard time. J1 does his part and like a good little bird is pushing me so I will push him out  of the nest. I want every moment to be one of me holding that little child in my arms.  This is not to be. I am so sad and yet so joyous at the same time. Is that even possible? It is part of my culture to raise our children to succeed and to jump early. A mission is one way they do this. They jump from our arms to the Lord's. I know he will catch him if J1 just asks and opens his arms.
 A mission for the church of Jesus Christ of latter-day saints is a BIG deal. It is a defining moment in our children's lives. It is something we do, it is part of who we are. It is expected and it is a let down if it isn't achieved.  It is a sacrifice of time, money, and energy and years of preparation. All this because we love what our Savior Jesus Christ did for us so much we want the whole world to partake of the blessing of knowing Him.  Life is happier knowing who you are and knowing you have a purpose.
As Christmas rolls around the corner and J1 prepares to leave for his mission I can't help but see the parallel of my life and Mary's. Who also gave her son to the world.  She must have felt apprehension even knowing who he was. He is all powerful and yet he is still her baby. That little infant who was born in a stable under difficult circumstances, surrounded by farm animals in a smelly barn. I can't imagine it any other way. I'm sure she could have.
Mary and Joseph raised Jesus with the knowledge of who He was and they still worried. He is the Savior the Son of God the Father and they were worried when they couldn't find him on a return journey.
My husband and I raised J1 with the knowledge of who he was. He knows he comes from people of faith who honor the name Jesus. He knows he comes from people who don't quite and put their all into what they are doing. He knows he is royalty as he is a son of God the Father above. As such he can do anything with this knowledge.
I trust my father in heaven and will put my trust in Him. My prayer is not that J1's trials will be gone. It is, that they will make him stronger. That they will make him closer to his Heavenly Father. They will make him who he is.  J1 can do this and so can I. It is time.

Seasons

The mornings have turned cold and crisp. The nights are a down right chilly, calling for a second blanket. We haven't turned the heat on yet, but fall is definitely here. It is October so I shouldn't be surprised, yet I am every time the weather starts to change. The leaves have changed to bright oranges, purples, reds and yellows and are now falling from the sky like giant snow flakes. It has rained every day since Monday and the wind hasn't stopped. This makes our days gray and dark. The sun peaking out in mid afternoon if we are lucky. Other people have started decorating their porches with bright happy pumpkins. We placed some  on our porch, and I planted some mums. I hope they survive the winter. My pumpkins never look as good as everybody else s.   I am not ready for the change. It seems I just get used to the season and I look up and it is gone. I feel this way about Jacob leaving for his mission. I am anxious and excited for him to be gone and yet I feel like it was just yesterday that Jason and I were in the Hospital waiting for him to come to us, not knowing if he would even make it to earth alive. He was so tiny and small. We of course didn't know to be scared of his size when he did come, as he was our first. We didn't know how scary he looked how fragile and delicate, until we had John who was double Jacob's  size and  he had twice his strength.  Jacob's leaving has made me more aware as to how fast everything moves. It is almost like in a moving train or car. You don't realize how fast you are going until you slow down. I want to slow this train down, and yet I don't. If it slows down it means the kids are leaving and I will have to entertain myself. If it doesn't soon I will loose my mind. I have given so much of myself up, in order  for my kids to be who they are. I would do it again. It wasn't a sacrifice. It was a joy. It is a joy. One long exhausting painful joyous moments wrapped up into one giant bow.  Like the leaves of a tree, I have served my purpose and my kids are shedding me to move onto something else. They don't understand the leaves will be back the next year and the year after that, for the entire life of the tree. I guess that's me continuing on in life, moving on, fertilizing my kids  helping them to grow even if they fight me as I do it. Coming back, always coming back, and glad to do it.

I am feeling sheepish as I had a goal to write something every month. I of course did not follow through. I guess this is life. I am a mother and wife. I babysit from my home and I have been busy getting my oldest ready for his mission. I also teach Early Morning Seminary and was recently called as the Primary President. Needless to say I am overwhelmed. This is no excuse for not giving to me and my future generations.  Maybe this is why I am feeling overwhelmed. There is so much more that I want to do, and be and yet I have reached a time in my life when there is not even enough  time for me. I don't know where or what I could or can cut out of my life to make it easier and less busy.
 I recently turned 40. UGH! I know I know it is just a number. It is only half a lifetime if I am lucky enough to live to 80. Which means half my life is over... I know so pessimistic.  This is where I am though. I am full of joy and happiness at my life and where God has taken me yet so disappointed that I haven't grasped more. I wanted more of everything. I am disappointed at the time I wasted. I wasted complaining, whining and just not doing. I could have been and done so much more by now.  Mostly because I didn't understand my own potential, or how to manage my time wisely.
 My husband and I love to play a game on our tablets to unwind. Looking at myself honestly I think what a waste of my time. It is easy to get addicted to these time wasters. They make you feel as if you are accomplishing something and you are really just passing time.I am reminded of the episode on Star Trek the Next Generation when Riker brought a game on board the enterprise which ends up stealing the crew's will. It becomes a drug.  We justify it and say it is only here and there through out the weekend as we go about our business getting things done, waiting for our items to be made on the game. Yet in times past I would have spent that time drawing, writing, crocheting, reading,cooking, hiking, playing with my kids, or just plain doing. Doing other things that were productive for real.This fantasy life that I and others place ourselves in and portray online is not real. I want to feel real and do for real, both the good and bad. In one game you farm and make something out of nothing, in mere minutes, yet there is no opposition. The only one I can think of is when others  buy items just seconds before you can get it. Defeated you mindlessly tap on a screen until you can find another pick or axe. Nope no tornadoes, no famines, no floods, not even a single weed. No there is no real opposition, just accomplishment. I guess this is the draw as there is really no work involved. As if by magic and a swipe of a hand we can feel like Gods and make things grow. The patch of ground in the front of my house has been begging for me to make it peaty again. Yet I put little to no effort into it  because lets get real effort is hard. Effort takes time. Effort takes investment.  These programs  and games  aren't real and really I learn nothing except how to make sure my barn is full.   I for one am going to make a concerted effort to do and live a  more real life. Do is the operative word as these games are so wasteful and accomplish nothing except tell us we are smart, and look what you have accomplished! REALLY? I accomplished nothing.  I want to feel again. I want to feel the accomplishment of finishing something, something for me, something that is real. Something that is not wasteful of my time but feels like a contribution to making me a better, more accomplished person.
My father is one of these people who accomplished things.  He was born during WWII. He grew up dirt poor in Idaho. Let me tell you Easterners. Idaho is the West Virginia of the West. We all make fun of them and treat them as nothing more than country hicks.  Yet they know how to survive. They know how to do. Mom and Dad have talked about how everyone was let out of school in the spring to thin the beats and asparagus. All the kids in school worked. Dad joined the military to put himself through college. He went to college, then on to get his masters in a field that did not make him very popular in the early 60's. Nuclear Energy. When the country was giving in to flower power he was learning how to provide real power to these hippies. These hippies later would turn on him for working in a field that was so evil. He worked through his field while his wife stayed at home and had babies, six of them. While I was  Growing up he came home and worked on little projects around the house doing just about every little and big fix it job. There was nothing he felt he couldn't do. He is a person who accomplishes things. He has always in the past just done what ever he wanted. I don't think he understands the words I don't think I can. In fact he had me convinced that all men could do anything and everything. Until I got married, I didn't know that some men don't know how to fix things. We are loosing something as this era as men move on and age. I want to retain something of this in me. I want to be someone who accomplishes things.  This is how I want to live my life. Even if I feel overwhelmed and my body is tired I will push on and just do. I want to do EVERYTHING! I want to be someone who does, and lets face it 40 years goes fast. So I better get started.

      Years ago I had the desire to be a writer. That thought or desire to put words down has never really left me. When I speak words seem to get stuck in my head, but when I take pen in paper I can capture those words and express myself in ways that I can only imagine my tongue using. My oldest child is now turning 18, and it is now time to fulfill this promise to myself or at least try. I won't be writing novels or long overly wordy classics. I will be writing for me and for my kids. I will write of things that are  most important to me. I don't know if my kids will every read this or if they will even care, but I care, and I want to write things that I have kept hidden, a part of me that no one  knows about. I'm not sure how I feel about blogging. I'm not even sure if I have the privacy setting on. Oh well. I get what I get and I don't pitch a fit.