HAP


We like to talk about the "best things" at dinner.  Last night Emma told us a great story.  She and Hap and Princess were out ice-skating on the ditch/pond in the borough pit in front of our house.  A rock jiggled out of place, leaving a puddle of water.  Princess hurried over to the the little puddle and lapped up the water.  Not wanting to miss out, Hap ran over to a smaller rock, pried it up out of the frozen earth, excitedly watched the water pool under it, and then he leaned down and lapped it up.  Emma told it matter-of-factly and without any questioning.  To her this wasn't strange, watching her brother lap up the ice-puddles like a puppy.
Does this reflect absentee parenting?  Did we forget the safe-drinking water lesson?  Have we come this far?  Our oldest son never left the house without his own personal bottle of hand sanitizer.  And now this . . .  Perhaps we are tired.  Perhaps we are lazy.  Perhaps we should sent Hap out the door with his little reminders:
"Did you remember to put your pants on?"
"Are you wearing clothes?"
"Please don't drink in the gutters."
It really is the little things that are most important.

"All the noise, all the noise, all the noise noise noise noise!"

 

Perhaps that familiar grinchy phrase best describes our home this time of year.  We fill our home with goodies, smiles, decorations, activities, music, lights, and trees.  Every year I tell myself, "this will be the Pottery Barn year.  The year of less and the year of class."  And every year I put up the same familiar decorations.  We listen to the same music.  Those decorations show more wear every year and the music gets louder and scratchier every year.  Once in a while I pull together some sort of L.L. Bean type magazine cover decoration, and that makes me smile.  But most often our home isn't going to make any part of any magazine.  And that's okay.

The best part of putting up Christmas is watching the wise men fly.  Years ago a chubby cheeked H remarked how cool it was that the Wise Men can fly because they have capes.  And every year since then they fly.  All season long!  This year I heard Emma explain which one was her favorite--and it was because of its cape.

The other day I stole a moment to look at our Nativities.  Golden sunlight danced across our heavy-laden fir tree.  The bright snow sparkled out the window.  The donkeys were all gathered on the window sill.  The wise men all gathered together on the couch.  In one scene, Mary, Joseph, the shephards, and angels all were walking away from the manger.  But there was no manger.  On the shelf I found 4 mangers, all fully of smiling swaddling Jesus's, completely deserted by any doting mother figure or heavenly messanger.  Another grouping near that had all the characters huddled in a circle.  "Sweet," I thought.  "Here is an Ensign talk coming"  Baby Jesus was no where to be found and the closest one was upside down on the piano. 

My mom gives us a Nativity scene each year.  My husband gave me a treasure the first year we celebrated Christmas together as a family.  These all hold dear places in my heart.  As the years pass, they become more dear.  My kids know that and they take care of them as gently as four year old fingers can.  And in years to come I will be grateful for all those flying wisemen.  Merry Christmas!

Matthew and Church

 

 

 

He loves riding Bodacious, playing basketball, and the color orange.

He despises church.

 

"Today is church day, Matthew."

"I am not going to church today.  It is not church day."

"Matthew, church is fun, you have nice teachers, and it makes Heavenly Father happy."

"But I am not a Mormon."

"Really?"

"Nope, I am not a Mormon, I am Matthew Frank Rees."

 

I love his bright eyes and funny crooked grins.  He scowls and growls and smiles and jumps and runs and does everything that a little boy should.  He picks up bugs and splashes in puddles and loves his puppy and sisters and the brothers.  I am glad he is mine forever.

 

"Girls have to not play basketball.  No, they can't play basketball.  Boys have to play basketball."



A Gentle Reminder . . .

 

 

Emma matter of factly explains what she will take to kindergarten as she stuffs dolls and books into her fuzzy pink caterpillar backpack.

Matthew listens attentively and offers advice.

Rachael craws and smiles.

 

Sometimes reminders come acutely and sting my heart--I know how fast the footprints in the snow melt.  I know that the eager hand I hold now soon won't be in mine.  I know that letters and numbers and sounds become essays and projects. 

 

And then I look into the eyes of my big boy and see a pure goodness and righteous desire.  Sure hope and faith overcomes that spirit of fear of change.  I look into the eyes of my second boy and see determination and decision.  I look into the eyes of farmboy and see humility and strength. 

 

And then I look into the innocent eyes of those little ones still mine all day.  These days are heavenly gifts.  I believe in the great expanse of eternity that we will recall these days. 

 

That will be a happy time . . .

 

 





Why I love America . . .

Rare, warm November sunshine bounced off my blonde-haired kids as we strolled through the schoolyard, through the gate, and into the Civic Center's parking area.  Two big American flags stood sentry on either side of the front doors, heralding a reminder that today was the day!  Vote here! Yet, I doubted anyone in this modern Mayberry would forget--this town pulsates politics.  The election judges call you out at church if you fail to turn up to vote.  I know all about this . . . it happened to me one November a few years ago.  It was a small election and I was tired and kid-weary and truth-be-known--I didn't really care.  Not only did I get a scolding at church, I also got a phone call from the county commissioner (who happened to be my mother-in-law) wondering why I didn't vote . . .

So, there we were yesterday--my five kids and I, lined up to vote.  They came with me to see how it worked and they helped me select the candidates.  They pushed the buttons, ate the licorise from the election judges, and proudly wore "I Voted!" stickers the rest of the day. 

But perhaps the greatest realization of the day came late that night.  The votes had been cast and our man lost.  Dissapointment dappened the hope of before, but as I reflected on the events of the day I realized how much I love these United States.  I realized that without any concern for my children's safety we walked through the doors of our city building and voted freely. 

And here I am tonight, thinking about these freedoms we've been blessed with.  Blessed by the sacrifice of generations and dreams long passed.  We are free to think and speak and vote and campaign and disagree.  We are free to worship and free from want.  We are free from fear.  These freedoms come to us because we were lucky enough to be born here.  But they can only stay with us if we continue to work for them.  Work will save us and our children and their children.  Work will save us from want and fear.  Active worship is work.  Making a difference is work. 

So on the day after this Presidential Election, I want my children to remember how the sun felt on their innocent cheeks, how it made the church steeple glow across the street, how the election judges smiled and gave them treats, and how the freshly-plowed fields held the promise of bounteous harvests yet to come.  I want them to know of the promise and blessings of freedom and the responsibity we have to protect this great blessing.  I want them to know that we harvest these freedoms from seeds planted long ago and that we plant seeds of freedom for those who come after us. 

A Bit about the Roost

 

And now a little bit about our Rooster . . .

Just bearly nine

Strong of will and strong of body

Athlete

Shy of soul

Sure of family

Friend

Patient

Early riser and intense player

Deep sleeper

Desire for right

Watcher and internalizer

My little boy, not so little any more.  A man in the making. 

Not for show, prefers to be in the back.

Non-conformist--he has his own drum and own beat

Definately one of the Chosen and Great Ones

Potential to the Divine

He is my boy, and always will be because of the strength of a Heavenly Vow

And the mercies of our Heavenly Father

He knows my Jared and loves him too and we share that love of boy and son

 

 

 

 

Moments

"Let's go see the most glorious thing in the world!"
(the pear trees in blossom at the school)

Rounded up cattle all day Saturday on horseback
Thinks, dreams, wears, and talks Aggie
Eats

Shrankie, inunciator, attacker, HUG MEE!

"What if instead of boys voices' changing, their face changed?  And what if in the middle of speaking in church it happened?"

Smiler, giggler, patient, soft fingers, almost roller, heart-melter, but not sleeper!

How do you capture forever?