a good game.

School was important, but my mom used to keep us home on every good Friday to watch Ben Hur.  It was fully a part of our Easter celebration.  I thought about this when Jim pulled the boys away from their normal 8 p.m. bedtime last night to watch the Sun Devils beat the Wildcats (which was by no means certain until the end of the second overtime). 

ASU football is as much Religion to Jim as Ben Hur is to Cyndee. 

...and my Three Believers went to bed beaming.

why I love my husband

There are hundreds of reasons. 

But this one has stood out to me most lately: 

He is a phenomenal dad.

I was irretrievably smitten when I married the man. But I do remember having moments of lucidity during the courting.  And in those moments I'd always worry about just that - Jim as a dad.  He didn't like children much and expressed no interest in having any of his own.

But this was one area where I have been most surprised and most grateful. 

He spends time and energy with each of these lucky three.  And he teaches them.  

On Monday he taught us a simplified lesson on Jacob 5, which is anything but simple.  It was a chapter we had only skimmed over in our morning scripture study, and he wanted his boys to understand more.  So he came home from work fully prepared with handouts and enthusiasm.  Of course, the boys didn't understand the allegory fully, but they did understand that it was important to their dad.  And the lesson ended with Aidan saying, "that was really interesting". 

That night when Davyn knelt with me to pray, he said, "Bless us all so we can be good fruits." 

Amen.

Coming from the branch of my Jim, they have a good chance of being just that.

and so it begins

I remember the first time I dropped Aidan off at Nursery when he was 18-months-old.  It felt surreal.  My boy, my shadow, my firstborn, my child was going to have conversations, relationships, laughter, pain in which I had no part. 

Well, this morning a similar flood of emotions overtook me when we met his Kindergarten teacher.  I surveyed the room, craning to take in the maps, posters, books, blackboard that will come to fill his days...hoping desperately that he'll come home spilling stories and details.  Because I want to know who sits next to him, what he laughs at, what makes him sad, what makes him sigh.  Forever. 

Of course I won't.  We can't always own each other entirely.  But, still..

He sat at his desk today with surprising ease.  Surprising because last week's school shopping was witness to all too many worries ( "Can't I wait one more year?"). 

Luckily, his dad has a knack for assuaging trauma in us half-Hendrix humans.  I caught them mid-chat this morning.  And saw Jim's soothing words take effect.  He always tells his boys that they are powerful.  And it's true.  Tonight he gave each of them their first father's blessing.  Tonight is also the five year anniversary of our temple sealing.  I've never felt more grateful to be a part of this family..to be surrounded by these men..to have them now & Always. 

Even if the first bits of earthly separation start with Mrs. Cammack's a.m. Kindergarten tomorrow.

52 Blessings

During October’s conference, President Eyring gave a talk that impacted me deeply. When his family was young, he began writing down daily how he had seen the hand of God blessing their lives. Not surprisingly, he found that as he continued this practice year to year, he became more & more aware of God’s presence and love. I think this impacted me particularly because I met President Eyring years ago – before he was an apostle – and knew instantly that he was a man of God. He was speaking for a gathering of MBA students, and I was the lowly secretary given the task of seeing to his needs (ie. glass of water) before the dinner began. He sat in the corner of the pre-party empty room and I assumed he must be going over his speech, making last minute changes. As I got closer, I realized that was not the case. He was praying (silently & lengthily). This was not a church event or a spiritual gathering, but it hit me that to someone in tune with God, the *spiritual* compartment is not so tidily confined. It stretches into all.

I have no doubt that the man President Eyring has become is directly related to his practice of *blessing counting*. Counting blessings brings perspective. And perspective makes one look Godward.

Last night I was reading some writings by Henry Emerson Fosdick, a Baptist pastor in early 20^th century America. His words are meaty and sometimes dictionary dependent, but I loved what I read. I’m including a decent chunk, but I promise this analogy is worth a sit.

“The mystery of a ship at sea keeping its course day and night through all weathers lies in the fact that it moves in two worlds. On the one side is the ship itself, the sea it rides upon, the storms that beat upon it, the fogs that encompass it, and all the seen universe that surrounds it. But another world is there, invisible, intangible, playing with unseen magnetic fingers on the ship’s compass. That is so strange a realm that for ages man did not dream that it was there at all, but now the ship keeps its course by means of it, an unseen magnetic world that guides the mariner even through night and fog and storm.

“Human life is like that. We live in two worlds. Sometimes we call this bifurcation 'body' and 'spirit' – the one material, physical, visible, the other immaterial, invisible, intangible. Like some animals of the sea, whales and seals, that, though their habitat is the water, have another need, and must from time to time come up to breathe the air, so are we. Immersed in the flesh, yet we cannot live by flesh alone but must rise into this other realm of spirit, with its faiths, its ideals, its visions of beauty and right. Here is the mystery of human nature, as of a ship, that it lives in two worlds.”

I loved this and equally loved how hungry it made me for further thought. The title of his book is Living Under Tension and the tension he addresses is that between the physical and spiritual worlds…working out the problem of how we as Christians can live daily life while holding firmly to a world unseen, but powerfully present.

All that as an intro for the statement that I’m jumping on board with those doing the 52 Blessings documentation. I’m also going to write my daily blessings in the journal by my bed…even if it is only a sentence or two on some nights.

Because I need to visit the “unseen” realm of my being more often. Because I want to see God’s hand in my life. Because I yearn to be a truer disciple.

*** 

So, this is my belated week 1 (I'm planning to make this a Sunday practice in the future...and to actually take the picture myself in the future, as well!):

I remember the first “bless you” I said to a Jim sneeze. But that memory is mostly due to his reply: “You do.” And now I seldom hear a “bless you” without a musing smile. He spoke the words to charm & woo, no doubt. But I reverse them as the most genuine truth of my now. Jim became mine when I needed him most. When my family needed him most. When the ground seemed to have been shaken from beneath us. Now, ground regained, I look back and know that the timing of it all was not by accident. Jim was mine all along, but someone else was wise enough to know the crucial *When*.  And - for that - I'm grateful.

Blessing No. 1: "when" with Jim

my GQ boy(s!)

PART I:  Aidan wants a suit.

He's wanted one for ages, really.  I wasn't about to buy one while he was in Nursery, and last Christmas I cringed at the price tags attached to any that I deemed acceptable.  But this year Santa came through for the boy.  And the boy was all grins.  Now, A is not exactly a child who picks up after himself or puts toys away without extreme prodding.  But on the day after Christmas I was surprised to see his little suit hung neatly in my closet with all of Jim's dress clothes.  It warmed my heart. 

 

 PART II:  Aidan has a fantastic dad.

On the Sunday after Christmas we were going to be in the mountains outside of Payson.  To me, that means *no church*.  But Jim thought A would be disappointed, so he looked up the time for the little Christopher Creek branch and packed both of their suits.  Me:  "He won't really know if we wait until next week to wear the suit." 

But Jim knew his boy.  We woke the boys up early the next morning to jump in the car and be on our way.  The first thing Aidan said (and in a groggy state, mind you):  "Did you pack my suit, Dad?"

My heart warmed.  Again.