Faith in Jesus Christ and Embracing the Priceless Gift of His Infinite Atonement

 Given at the adult session of stake conference on August 12, 2023, Gastonia Stake, North Carolina

President Sheppard asked me to speak on “Faith in Jesus Christ and Embracing the Priceless Gift of His Infinite Atonement,” and I’d like to begin by telling you how I prepared to give this talk. I promise that there is a purpose behind this if you hold on. 

I’ve studied faith for years for a lot of personal reasons, diligently marking scriptures about it, and analyzing the strength of my own faith. I’ve also felt the power of the Savior’s infinite atonement over and over again in my life. So, I thought I was well prepared to speak on this topic. I spent the last few weeks pondering, praying for help in putting my thoughts into words, and vigorously writing down what I wanted to say to all of you.  This past Monday, I even took my daughters and 3 of their friends to Carowinds, and while they went on waterslides, I sat, sweating with my notebook, handwriting my talk .

But despite my best efforts, my brain has been muddled. Not only has it been painful to write every time I’ve put pen to paper, I’ve been making countless human, but nevertheless embarrassing errors in my everyday life. So many of my attempts this past week at doing good -in my calling, in my family, with missionary work, and even temple work - have been riddled with errors caused by my faults and weaknesses. Whatever you are imagining, I promise it has been worse. It’s been so frustrating, and honestly, a little weird. I’ve felt like 16-year-old, immature, zitty and messy Katie, not middle-aged and graying, Relief Society President Katie.  

Last night at midnight, I was attempting to finish this talk once again, inwardly berating myself for not being done, feeling old feelings of shame telling me that if I had just done x, y, and z, I wouldn’t have been in this situation at all. Hadn’t I improved my problems with focus and procrastination? Couldn’t I manage to write a measly 15 minute talk a week in advance? I was mad at myself for not being done, while also mad at myself for thinking that my little talk mattered enough to be this worked up about.  I was telling myself, like my 17-year-old son, often tells me, “It’s not that deep.” Let me tell you, that’s not an ideal situation for feeling the spirit. In desperation, I knelt and cried, and apologized to God for getting myself into this situation, and being so angry and stressed, and I figuratively threw my hands in the air and said, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here.” 

It was a little startling to me how quickly I realized that my stress and inability to move forward was being caused by trying to write about what I wanted to write about. I had wanted to write well ahead of time to make sure I expressed myself perfectly, so that I felt calm in my assurance that I could share what I knew to be true. I wanted to be unfrazzled, prepared, and well-spoken. None of those things were horrible, but I had shifted from a place of humility to a place of pride. In my thoughts and preparations I had assumed that God wanted one thing out of me, when He had something else in mind. 

I had thought He wanted to use my strengths, when He had actually been waiting for me to admit my weaknesses. I wanted to speak about what I already knew, instead of being receptive to new light and knowledge that might stretch me. 

It was also astonishing how quickly - after He revealed this to me and I tried to repent by realigning my desires with His - that a certain scripture came to mind, and then another, and I was soon jotting down an outline. So, having told you this story, which I promise will be relevant to my talk, I’ve put aside the pages and pages I wrote well ahead of time, and I’m going to imperfectly share the words that were written today. 

One of my favorite scripture stories tells of Moses and the children of Israel in the wilderness. They have had the faith to follow Moses into the wilderness. They are bitten by fiery serpents. Moses makes a brass serpent, puts it on a staff, and all they have to do is look at it to be healed.  It seems to be one of Nephi’s favorites as well, because He references it more than once, and he uses it teach his brothers about faith in Christ. In Nephi 17, he says,

41 He sent fiery flying bserpents among them; and after they were bitten he prepared a way that they might be chealed; and the labor which they had to perform was to look; and because of the dsimpleness of the way, or the easiness of it, there were many who perished.

I love this story because it simplifies faith so beautifully and hopefully. It really is that easy - when we are sick with sin, panicked and afraid, we really just need to have enough faith in our Savior to look to Him for healing, and He’ll do it! I have no doubt that most, if not all of us in this room, have had that faith and have felt that healing, and that’s why we’re here at all.  

A parallel story in the New Testament is one that Elder Stanfill spoke so eloquently about in our last General Conference. The disciples are on a boat during a storm, already scared, when they see Jesus walking towards them on the water. Peter has the faith to step out onto that water and walk towards Him, but,“when he saw the wind boisterous, he was afraid; and beginning to sink, he cried, saying, Lord, save me.”

Haven’t we all gained a love and an appreciation for Peter this year?  We are all Peter, the same way we are all the children of Israel. We have all looked towards, and stepped towards, the Savior, when we are scared out of our minds, and we have all relied on Him to save us when we are dying and drowning. That’s faith in Jesus Christ. If you remember from my topic assignment, that’s the first part - faith in Jesus Christ. Now I want to talk about the second part of my topic, “Embracing the Priceless Gift of His Infinite Atonement,”  with another Peter story.  

After this incredible experience, Peter has continued to follow the Savior, showing faith in Him, and learning from Him, and now He is sitting with him at the last supper.  Supper has ended. The Savior knows His time with Peter and the other disciples is coming to an end. If you want to read along with me, I will be in John 13, starting at verse 4, 

4. He riseth from supper, and laid aside his garments; and took a towel, and girded himself.

5 After that he poureth water into a basin, and began to wash the disciples’ feet, and to wipe them with the towel wherewith he was girded.

6 Then cometh he to Simon Peter: and Peter saith unto him, Lord, dost thou wash my feet?

7 Jesus answered and said unto him, What I do thou knowest not now; but thou shalt know hereafter.

8 Peter saith unto him, Thou shalt never wash my feet. 

I’m going to pause here for a minute because when I read this scripture during our “Come, Follow Me” study earlier this year, it was one of those moments where I could truly liken the scriptures unto myself. I had a visceral reaction when I imagined being Peter. The Savior has shown him how mighty, powerful, compassionate, kind and merciful He is. He has already pulled Peter from the depths of the stormy sea. Now He is kneeling before Peter, at the end of a long day, wanting to wash the filth from his sandal-clad, stinky, feet - pretty much my feet after I went to Carowinds the other day. I can’t speak for Peter and his hesitations, but I can imagine why I would hesitate. I would be embarrassed and uncomfortable letting the master of ocean and earth and skies even get a good look at my feet, let alone touch them, and then to use his own, clean towel to wash them clean? I might feel like, “That’s not how things are done - it’s all mixed up.”

or…

Can’t I do that myself?   I mean, give me the supplies and I promise, I’ll do it. I’m good. I might be embarrassed that I let my feet get that dirty to begin with. It’s like the equivalent of letting your clean-freak ministering sister scrub your moldering, overflowing refrigerator.  I don’t want you to know that while you are this clean, I am this dirty.  

Or

I might have thought, “I’m used to being this way - why bother? I’m just going to walk back out into the streets, and no matter my best efforts, my feet will get dirty again. Please don’t waste your efforts on me….and maybe?  Don’t remind me what it feels like to be clean because then feeling filthy again will be a very, very uncomfortable contrast.” 

So as I was imagining all of that, in Peter’s stead, the next part of the verse really struck me.

Jesus answered him, If I wash thee not, thou hast no part with me.

Peter, who has already shown great faith in Jesus, Peter, who has followed the Savior, who the Savior had rescued, would have NO part with the Savior, if He could not allow the Savior to wash him.  It was not just an act of service the Savior was offering, it was a necessity.

This is where I think the second part of my topic comes in - Embracing the Priceless Gift of His Infinite Atonement.  I could talk for hours about this, and indeed, wrote pages and pages, about how faith leads us to look to the Savior when we have been bitten by fiery serpents or we are drowning.  We often have faith that His Atonement is infinite enough to save us from those dramatic situations.

But this kind of faith that the Savior was asking of Peter when He washed His feet is less dramatic, more humbling, and somehow, at least for me, harder to exercise on a regular basis. This kind of faith may be acknowledging that the word “infinite" here might mean over and over and over again.  This kind of faith is also essential if I want to face God, “clean every whit.”

This is what President Nelson has said about this:

“Nothing is more liberating, more ennobling, or more crucial to our individual progression than is a regular, daily focus on repentance. Repentance is not an event; it is a process. When coupled with faith, repentance opens our access to the power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ.7

Whether you are diligently moving along the covenant path, have slipped or stepped from the covenant path, or can’t even see the path from where you are now, I plead with you to repent. Experience the strengthening power of daily repentance—of doing and being a little better each day.” 

I propose to you this evening that this kind of faith - the faith to bring our dirty feet to the Savior, daily, to humbly let Him wash them, is what moves us from accepting the Priceless Gift of His Infinite Atonement to Embracing the Priceless Gift of His Infinite Atonement.  

It can be uncomfortable for you, maybe for the same reasons I proposed earlier - maybe you feel unworthy. Maybe it’s embarrassing. Maybe you just don’t feel like thinking about it. Maybe it’s discouraging. Maybe you feel like you should be past this. Maybe you’ve created your own assumptions about what a disciple of Christ should be, how strong you are, how you are going to deal with these problems yourself. Maybe you are ashamed that, as someone who has experienced great miracles in your life, you still need help with your little weaknesses. Maybe as you’ve studied the prodigal son, you’ve always been considered the son who stayed home and worked on his father’s farm faithfully, watching as the prodigal son blew his inheritance, and you’ve thought of repentance as being for those big sins that you haven’t even committed. 

Daily repentance requires us to admit to ourselves that we need daily repentance. It sometimes forces us to stop assuming that we know what God wants from us, and instead ask Him. It requires us to stop focusing on our strengths, imagining all the good that we can do for God because of those strengths, and asks us to focus on our weaknesses…… letting Him do what He wants to do with us, working on what He wants us to, and letting Him guide our lives. It wasn’t completely unrighteous for me to want to mold my future by having a well-written talk way ahead of time, just as it isn’t unrighteousness to want to shape your future in such a way that you don’t have to repent as often. But what is even more righteous is to acknowledge that despite your best efforts, you need help - to acknowledge that Christ has overcome all of this already, to acknowledge that no matter how much you try to keep your feet dirty, or how good you might have gotten at cleaning them yourself, He still wants to do it for you. To acknowledge, in fact, that it is still essential to have him do it for you! 

In our leadership meeting today, we read two contrasting scriptures. In Mosiah 5:15, in talked about how if we are doing good works, we are sealed to the Savior. In contrast, in Alma 34:35, it says that by procrastinating repentance, we are sealed to Satan. It’s surprising, I think. It’s not sin that seals us to Satan, but procrastinating repentance of that sin. Or, in other words, hesitating, for whatever reason, to let the Savior wash our feet.

I testify that anything that keeps us from that good work - shame, embarrassment, laziness, focus on other things, or even good intentions that have turned into prideful desires - anything that keeps us from daily repentance is a tool of the adversary. Don’t listen to him. He’s a liar. Feel the relief of daily repentance. Feel the joy of yoking yourself to the Savior, feeling your burden lift, and trusting that His way is the way. 

I know that our prophet speaks for God when he pleads with us to embrace the gift of our Savior’s infinite atonement by repenting daily. I say this things in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen. 

What I Felt in the Temple Today

Calm.

Quiet.

Relief from the worries that had crowded my mind.

Like myself. My true self - the one who chose this life.

Assurance that God's eye in on my precious sparrows.

Like Mother Eve, open to wisdom, knowing that I am missing something, but confident that learning is possible. 

Like Mother Eve, unafraid of work and sorrow.

So you've discovered the Ex-Mos. Now what?

 Dear children,

It's okay. It's okay to read their complaints, their evidence, their viewpoints. It's okay if you feel scared right now. It's okay if you think life might never be the same again for you. 

Take a deep breath. Say a prayer (because God is very real). 

There are a few things I want to tell you.

1. I have read the CES Letter. All of it, pretty much - they might have added more since then. I was teaching seminary at the time and I wanted to make sure I understood what was in it.  It did indeed make me anxious and panicky, like it is supposed to.  Other things I have read: lots of ex-mo reddit threads that talk about everything under the sun, from Joseph Smith to the salamander letters, to polygamy (that's kind of an old school concern that was really emphasized and whispered about during my BYU days), to tithing concerns, sexual abuse by church members, and whatever is hottest at the moment.  I don't enjoy reading these things, but I have been - since said days at BYU -very concerned with truth and with making sure I have truth.

2. I'm not the only True Believing Mormon or "TBM" who has read all of this stuff. I am also not the most educated one to have done so.  I promise you that you don't even have to listen to just your mom here.  There are many very wise, very experienced, very educated individuals who have read just as much, experienced just as much, and have thought just as much as anyone on reddit, or Mormon Stories or the writer of whatever anti-mormon TV show is currently a hit. I promise that my decision, and their decisions to stay in the church, are not because we are willfully blind or ignorant. These aren't secrets that, if you and your dad knew about, we would leave too. There is a 99.9% chance that I have all the information anyone you interact with has - I have just reached a different conclusion than those who have left. Panic is not truth. Unanswered or cleverly asked questions are meant to make you afraid of digging deeper or giving up, or they are meant to make you think you already have the answer. 

3. Look some more. There are many public responses to the CES Letter that are full of better research than that document.  Here is one of them.  You will find that the CES Letter is not intellectually honest. It takes a shallow dig into "issues" - just enough to make them seem unsolvable. It doesn't actually keep digging to find the answers.  I have found that many many sources cited by Ex-mos are the same way. They are full of passion, anger, and fear, and claim to be more truthful than they really are. I think some are intentionally deceptive, but others are not. I think some ex-mos are intellectually honest, while some think that it is fair game to use whatever methods they can use to bring down what they have come believe is a cult.  By this point in your life, you have probably seen that loyalty-to-a-cause can illicit that kind of response - I have seen it when people defended our old adoption agency, I have seen it in the filmmakers of The Traffickers, I have seen it in politicians and their followers, I have seen it in patriots. You will see it on reddit because it is most often an echo chamber for like-minded individuals. They are no longer loyal to my religion, but they are extremely loyal to their own, and will (justifiably, in their minds), use anger and imbalance to prove their new religion. 

4.  On that same note, many many people are not being honest about why some people are excommunicated or why they chose to leave.  John Dehlin, the master story-teller himself, told the public at the time of his excommunication that he just wanted "truth." He was an honest truth-seeker, living all the commandments but not seeing the truth. He admitted years later that he was, at that time, completely addicted to porn, had been for years, and had hidden it from his wife. Does that mean his motives were completely false? I'm not saying that. I'm just saying that his motives and reasons for disconnecting from the church were complex. I don't know that he purposely kept things out of his narrative to make it more compelling, but well, I have seen plenty of people who leave things to make their point stronger. People will argue that what they left out wasn't relevant, but well....why did they then? Again, I have seen people do it over and over again, and you probably have too. Excommunication stories can be super compelling because the person who had their membership revoked can say whatever they want. It will always be one-sided because of confidentiality policies in the church. 

4.  I am not ignorant, blind, or a sheep for following the living prophet despite not understanding everything. Everyone, whether they realize it or not, is choosing to follow someone.  One time I was on a blog that questioned everything gospel-related, and they were asking everyone how they would re-do the plan of salvation to make it more fair and beautiful.  They all, sitting behind their computer screens, gave input about what the plan got "wrong." Some sounded really inspiring and loving, and my heart got that racing feeling that maybe I had been wrong all along to trust modern prophets....maybe there was something I had "missed" in my thinking. Then I realized I was putting faith in strangers. Strangers who had the gall to believe that they understood the eternities, the whole point of life, the way we should treat other.....  strangers who thought they had the intellectual, far-sighted, compassionate depth to create laws for all mankind that would be better than the ones given to us by God, through the authorities of the church. STRANGERS - I didn't even know if they were just trying to screw people up or actually believed it. I didn't know if they were people who actually tried to lead good lives or criticized others on the computer all day long. I didn't know if they were better-educated, more "spiritual," more interested in doing good than me. But I certainly knew they were less humble.  I could not claim to understand all of it better than the prophets, but they did so without hesitation.  Being humble... acknowledging that you might not totally get what matters for ALWAYS....isn't being blind, it's being self-aware and honest.

5. You can talk to me about these things. I might have some insights you haven't considered. Yes, I have come to my own conclusions, and they might be different than your own, but I'm not going to kick you out of the family, I'm not going to disparage you to others, I'm not going to treat you with less love.  I believe that truth is truth, and I believe that if what I have is truth, whatever you believe isn't a threat to it. If it's uncomfortable, we will still get through it. I will love you just a dearly and truly if your conclusions are different than mine. 

6. If you don't want to talk to me about these things, that's fine too. Many people don't want to talk to their moms or dads about it because there is such emotional weight behind it. It's scary.  Plus, Dad and I aren't perfect. We have our own baggage. We've screwed up many times and you doubtless carry the baggage of those screwups.  I try really really hard to make things right, but I know I might not feel like the safest person to talk to. But if you do talk to others, give them at least the same level of scrutiny that you give us, please. We really really really do care about you.

7. I already stated this, but God is real. I have experienced Him over and over again in my life, and I would be a lying liar who lies if I told you differently. You really can pray. You really can accept knowledge from the Holy Ghost.  It's a legitimate way to learn. If you haven't turned to Him for help on this yet, please do. Please kneel down and talk to Him about your fears. Please ask Him how He feels about you. Please give the scriptures at least equal time to the ex-mos. Please give God a chance. He is real. His Son is real. This isn't about me wanting you to follow me. This isn't about my control over you. This isn't about making family gatherings more comfortable, or carrying on the traditions I was raised in. This is about a God who knows you and loves you, who I am trying to give you a connection to - a connection greater and more powerful than the one I have forged with you. I want you to trust HIM more than me. His love is pure and perfect. 

I love you (however imperfectly) and always will. -Mom

For the prison days

 Paul and Joseph were two men that taught me about feeling God’s peace in the hardest of times. 

 Before I can tell you about them, let me give you a little backstory. In January 2013, my husband and I both told each other that we thought we should make a decision whether or not to adopt.  We had thought and talked about it off and on for ten years - every time we had another biological child - and it seemed the time to decide once and for all if we should. We decided to take our question to the temple the first weekend in February. 

In the celestial room, I experienced one of the strongest and clearest answers in my life.  Both my husband and I came out of the temple feeling very strongly that, YES, we should adopt and that it should be soon. We both felt an intense urgency. After scrambling and stressing over paperwork for the next month and a half, we were matched with two little sisters from the DR Congo on March 27, 2013. We saw their faces through pictures, and again prayed and felt that they should be our daughters.

 At that point, our agency let us know that the rest of the process would take 9-12 months, which seemed so unbearable. How could I watch these little girls grow up through pictures for up to a whole year? I told myself that we knew God wanted us to do this, so He would definitely help us zoom through the process.  Maybe, I thought...maybe they would be home by the end of 2013.  Maybe by Christmas!  

By October 2014, they still weren’t with our family even though they were legally our daughters. The entity of their government that handled immigration would not let them, or any of the other hundreds of adopted children, leave the country. They had said they were suspending the process for a year, but that year had come and gone and there was no end in sight.  We hired a foster family to care for our girls and, having no idea when they would join us, I decided to visit them. 

That month I got to travel to Kinshasa, the capital city of the DR Congo, where my daughters lived.  I spent a week with them.  It was one of the hardest weeks of my life  - the exhaustion of traveling met with sickness, the difficulty of visiting a third-world country where I didn’t speak the language, the overwhelming task of getting to know and caring for a 3 and 5 yr old who didn’t know me or trust me.

It was also one of the best weeks of my life - seeing those pictures that I had watched for months actually living and breathing, hearing their laughs and adorable voices jabbering away in French, taking them swimming for the first time in their lives, feeling their little arms around my neck as they giggled in the cool water, snuggling close to them all night and just enjoying having them with me. 

When the week was over, I took them back to their foster home and somehow said goodbye. My younger daughter was hysterical and had to be pried off of me. I felt a peace that could only come from my Heavenly Father as we drove away, back to my hotel, but my heart ached for her.  I wasn’t leaving until the next morning, and that night, all alone, I had a lot of questions for my Heavenly Father as I knelt in prayer. What it all boiled down to for me was this thought: 

What if we had been wrong to start this whole crazy process? 

I could trust that it was all going to be okay if I truly knew that God wanted us to adopt. But what if He hadn’t? What if we had been wrong that day in the temple? What if we were just messing up our daughters’ lives even more by making them live in this limbo?  How could I know this was what Heavenly Father wanted when it was going so badly? I couldn’t see His hand in this mess. 

I felt comforted that night, but received my real answer the next morning, as I was leaving my daughters’ city.  

The airport experience in Kinshasa is intense and chaotic, and several other adoptive parents recommended that since I was traveling alone I should hire someone to help get me and my bags checked in . His name was Paul.  He was Congolese and spoke at least four languages.  I had met him during the week as we had hired him to go a few places to translate. So that morning, Paul and his driver loaded my suitcases. Before we even left the courtyard, Paul turned to me and softly started talking about what a hard day it was for me.  I will never forget what he said. 

“Your children may feel like you have abandoned them right now.  They don’t understand why you can’t be with them.  They don’t understand what you are doing to bring them home.  But you know.

You may feel like God has abandoned you right now. You can’t see what He sees.  You don’t know what is going to happen.  But He knows.”

As I nodded my head and agreed wholeheartedly with him, he let that settle, and then we talked a little more about God, and he continued.

 “Look at Joseph in the Bible. He had a dream when he was a teenager. That dream did not come true for many many years. Even as he tried to do what God asked him to do, it was not easy for him. He was sold as a slave. He was accused by Potiphar's wife. He was thrown in jail.  And we know that it all worked out because we have read the ending. But while it was happening to Him, he didn’t know how it would end. He might have wondered if he had really dreamed that dream or if it was from God.”

I can still see the busy Kinshasa street we were on when Paul said this to me.  Time stood still as he taught me, from the Bible, and the Holy Ghost manifested to me that what Paul was saying was a direct answer to my prayers the previous night.  

I knew, in that moment, that my Heavenly Father had answered my prayers, not just from the previous night, but in the temple back in February 2013. He knew me so well that He had sent an almost-stranger to speak the very words I needed to hear, halfway across the world, in a language that wasn’t even native to him.

I thought about Joseph many times in the long months that followed. Every time we got bad news and it felt like our daughters would never join us, I tried to remember that God knew the ending, and He had not abandoned us. He had asked us to do this work, and His promises were always sure.  

We continued on in faith, even as many of our adoptive friends either gave up or illegally paid smugglers to sneak their children out with false documents. We visited Washington DC three times to meet with congressmen, representatives from the Department of State, and the DR Congo ambassador to the US. 

We kept serving in callings, praying, going to the temple, and paying our daughter’s foster family. 

Elysee and Simone finally flew to join our family on June 8, 2016, more than three years after we had first been matched with them. They were sealed to our family six months later. 

Now, after five years, I’m sure that people look at our family and only see the victory, the happy ending. They don’t know the agony and uncertainty that clouded our lives during those years. 

If you’re in that agony right now, please know that God has not forgotten you or abandoned you. Even when Joseph was in prison, Genesis 39:21 tells us: But the Lord was with Joseph.

God is with you.  

You haven’t reached the end of the story yet.

It’s not over. 

God knows you. 

He is working on your behalf in ways that you may not realize for years. 

We can always trust in His promises. 

That’s what Joseph and Paul helped me understand.

Winter by Carina

The trees' leaves are falling

And dying

I've never seen the flower 

Glower more

The moose and the goose

Have not been as loose

I doubt the peony 

Sprouts

The bird chirps weary tunes

The grass is a scarlet brown 

I better put a jacket on

It is winter now

War, by Carina

Everybody trying to make

A living out of fighting 

Everyday they train

In pain

Hoping to come back 

To the light

The might 

The right

But instead have to return

To the core war

Everybody stay put like a willow

Ain't going down like a pillow

Everybody follow me

This isn't a comedy

I want to go down strong 

Not wrong

This war could last on

Long

Our kids are growing!

 

Carina - 56in

Simone- 60 in

Oliver - 62 in

Elysée- 67 in

Gabe - 68 in

Colin - 68.5 in

My word for 2020

Work. 

Work out to get healthier.

Ruminate less, work more.

Do temple work.

Work on my relationships. 

Works of faith.

Work hard, every day.

Do the hard work for repenting and forgiving.

It'll all work out.

My color of the year is white.

To remind me of the temple.

A fresh start.

Hope.

Purity.

Keeping myself clean.

My Nature Story, by Carina Coleman

In the car, wearing a mask, was Carina Coleman and her friends.  They were on the way to Forest School. When they got there, they went to park the car, and they all got out. They played over by the lake for awhile. Then Carina's mom told them to come make their foil dinners.  While the dinners were cooking, they sang.  After the foil dinners were made, two were burnt. They played in nature for awhile and then it was time to go back home. 

 

This weekend

Chad and I went to Lowe's to look for a cabinet to install in our downstairs nook.  Right now there is just the fridge and microwave, and we want to have in a built-in cupboard and counter top. We didn't find what we wanted, but we did buy grass seed and soil to cover up the pool area. Chad spent a lot of time doing that while Carina and I worked on outdoor Halloween decorations.  Then I transplanted some impatiens that were running out of room, tied up some dahlias, and pulled some weeds. We have mums in pots and green grass. I love fall. 

Elysée has struggled the last couple of days. Her food anxiety seems to have roared back to life, bringing with it mumbling and clipped arguments about everything. This evening during dinner Gabe said that grass is green, and she shot back, "Not always." Everyone laughed because they knew he had said it just to see if she would argue. Before bed, I hugged her and told her I would do anything I could to help her - that I love her and I know tomorrow will be better. I know she's dealing with old trauma. We ALL have our moments- even those of us who haven't been through so much. 

Here's to better a good day tomorrow- Oliver is the only one with school!

Also, the boys went to church before us to prepare the sacrament (for our once-a-month-socially-distanced meeting). When we got there, Colin was sitting with the Jeppsons. I kept glancing over at him to make sure he wasn't on his phone. I did this a half dozen times, impressed every time that he wasn't. Then I remembered he doesn't have his phone! Wah. Poor Colin. He had to sent it to Apple and they charged him $570 to fix a problem they caused and I think it craziness but at least Colin has been working almost 40 hours a week and could pay for it. He is such a hard worker! He also took the SAT yesterday and felt like he did well. I'm excited to see what his future holds! I have faith that he'll learn the things he needs to learn. 

A Little Child

I was up until 1 am last night, thinking about summer.  We have our above-ground (not yet set-up) pool, we have some running goals, and that's about it.  It's a summer without Carowinds and no travel on the horizon.  It's probably a summer when we say goodbye to our beach house.

There's a schedule mapped out in Google Docs now, just like the summers before.  But the kids are older and wiser (than me) now. I'm still struggling between giving them choices while also giving them responsibilities - giving them freedoom while also encouraging them to do something more than sit with a controller in their hands all day.

This is the constant struggle of being a parent - especially the parent of teenagers.  I want to guide them, not push them. But I have to create boundaries. I do. 

Sometimes I look back at the baby pictures and long for the simple parenting acts of those days: nursing, changing diapers, reading books, singing songs.  None of those acts were exciting or cool, but I felt confident in them.  I long for the simplicity of knowing that I am doing exactly what I should as a parent.

With the complexity of parenting young adults comes a new kind of delight: sharing jokes, making plans and talking smack about the latest conspiracy theories.  All of these moments reveal brains that have developed far past the basic infantile thoughts of food and comfort - brains that have experienced and learned things completely separate from my motherly influence.

When I feel the tug tug tug of rebellion, the straining to abolish my boundaries, the wild anxiety that manifests as anger every time I hold fast to the sureness of my decrees, can I picture those brains?  The brains that are still developing. The brains that will build connections based on my reaction, for better or worse.

I can try. I can pray. That's about all I can do. 

— Jesus once was a little child,

A little child like me;

And he was pure and meek and mild,

As a little child should be.

So, little children,

Let’s you and I

Try to be like him,

Try, try, try.

Carina's Favorite Things

Food: Orange Chicken and Chow Mein 

Toy: Mr. Fluffer

Primary song: Close As a Quiet Prayer

Dessert: Popsicles

Book: Princess in Black

Activity: Swimming

Store: Target

Color: Blue

Flowers

Mom told me go and find as many different  color flowers as I could find. Elysée 

Well I have to write something so here we go. Im gonna write about my summer. I'm really hoping I can get my job sorted out soon so I can get out of the house. The Y has had a few days to respond but I haven't heard anything back yet. Ill give them a bit more before I send another email back. I'm actually kinda excited to be working there because I have a few friends that also work there that I'd hopefully be able to see. I haven't hung out with them in so long so it'll hopefully be nice to be able to talk to them in person after this long.
-Colin

Hosanna

I cut a sheet up, right along one sewn edge.  After hemming one square, I left the other seven with unfinished edges, knowing that they would probably be forgotten by the evening.  I wanted them to be precious momentos, but I have been a mom for seventeen years now, so I have had some hard lessons. One (that I still sometimes deny) is that when I push for a sentimental response from my children, they are more likely to remember a disappointed mom than a present one. Because they just don't care about the same things as I do. While I was making hankerchiefs, they were thinking about what they wanted to eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, rummaging through the fridge and pantry.

After laying the hankerchiefs aside, unfinished but ready, I moved onto a project that was just for me. I spent an inordinate amount of time looking for the newly purchased painters' tape, giving up on said painters', then using other painters' tape to block out a chalk-painting on my driveway that shouted, "Hosanna!". Because I am sentimental and I care about picture-picture moments, and I was going to do something to mark this holy day (even if it took all day).

When the Hosanna Shout came that afternoon, I had just finished a piece of Oliver's plotted and kneaded pizza. Simone sat next to me, yanking on her dolly's hair. Colin's hand itched to grab his phone and Chad's eyes squinted to stay open. I called Elysée and Carina in from wandering through the living room and into my bathroom and back again. They had my high heels on, smelled like they had been bathing in perfume, and looked like they had been rolling in makeup. 

I shushed and fussed and told everyone to grab their hankerchiefs. Gabe accused Elysée of grabbing his. Elysée has never met an accusation she isn't willing to fight to the grave, so I knew this conflict was not going to be solved in the brief moment we had before we needed to raise our voices together. I tossed my own hankerchief to Gabe and ran to my bathroom to grab a tissue that wasn't there. I heard the shout begin and ran back to awkwardly wave my hand in the air and pretend that it was a meaningful moment for me.

After the session was over, I went back to painting my chalk masterpiece with a Pinterest recipe that was too lumpy. I added water, then more cornstarch and more food dye and altered my plan in my head because the original simply wasn't going to happen. I looked for more cornstarch, found none, and grabbed some old potato starch. 

I thought about my kids and worried and felt no peace at all.  I prayed and asked for peace and felt the cool breeze and heard the birds.  

Nothing really changed but I kept painting and my kids left me alone. 

I thought about this old blog for some reason, and decided to revive it.

When I finally pulled the tape off my completed painting, after the second session, Colin was there. He said it was a mess, but I defended it. It wasn't what I had planned, but it was what I was capable of, with what I had on hand. I hadn't given up. It was mine and it was meaningful. 

I would take a picture in the morning and write about it. 

I laid in bed tonight after forcing the oldest two into theirs. I downloaded the Blogger app onto my phone. While typing the first few sentences of this post with faint little deet deet deets in the dark, Chad laying next to me with his earbuds in, I thought I heard a noise. 

Rain? 

Alexa and been consulted repeatedly and had insisted it wasn't possible.

I grabbed my phone to take a horrible flashy picture of my artistic offering before it streaked under the car and into the mulch.

 

Hosanna! 

Save me, sweet Savior!

Take my imperfect offerings and sanctify them.

Save me and my family from ourselves.