Crap, I mean craft project

Fallingwater Home Frank Lloyd Wright

I consider myself an individual that likes simple unhindered design.  Art deco, craftsman, retro 60's.  Yet, when I look around my house, I find a lot of junk whose only object in its design is to collect dust.  Andy often says, Relief Society's favorite projects are taking something useful, and turning it into something useless.  (Though beautifying the home on a budget is certainly not its sole occupation, it certainly has a basis in real life.)  Okay, some has been acquired due to the "thoughtfulness" of my children (who would want to change that?)

Autumn, spring and summer wreath Elizabeth McLatchy

All that having been said, there is something enlivening about being artistic.  It refreshes the soul.  It enlivens the mind.  It occupies the hands (although we need to be certain it is not a foolish sacrifice.)  I've always had a zeal for living plants.  From the seasonal garden club with Emily to working in wholesale and retail floral sales (sadly, I was just the driver, could there is a more rewarding occupation...?  Everyone's always made happy by what you did for them, even at funerals.)  But it seems that my lot is silks.

Our tree... note the playhouse I made to the left of the tree in the background

Ironically, I have a black thumb.  I once received a gardenia bush FILLED with buds and ready to bloom.  They are beautiful flowers.  In Spanish they're most commonly referred to as 'smell of the night.'  The bush died before ANY could bloom.  I was given an ivy for a wedding present.  After 8 years of torture, I allowed it to pass from this life peacefully.  I once planted maple tree helicopters.  The next year when they began to spring forth, I cut them down because, if I remember right, my brother told me they were poison ivy.  (Thankfully my mother reminded me that I had planted them and to put the shoots back in the ground and water them... as far as I'm aware they are still alive and over 25 ft tall... The Lord obviously took mercy on the trees.)

Wayfarer's chapel CA near redwood forest Lloyd Wright

My dream vacation would be to the Redwood forest in CA.  Fall is my favorite season with all it's lovely colors, and my favorite colors from nature spring forth from the trees.  Even the scriptures about trees are my favorites (Jacob 5; 1 Nephi 11:  8; Genisis 3:6; Alma 32:41; Luke 13:19; Matthew 26:36; Joseph Smith History 1:13-14)  If I were to find out I'm absurdly wrong as to all my beliefs I was once a tree in a previous life.

Aspen Cathedral, Vail, Colorado

 Did you know the largest organism is a grove of Aspen that are all interconnected spanning 106 acres?

Okay, so who says perfect design and art don't interconnect?  Isn't he who designed the world perfect?  So I rest my case.  What was once crap, is now craft; skill, talent, ingenuity, seemingly random design, all combined with a purpose in mind.  What are you making?

What's in a name?

I was in a win-win situation for naming our eldest child, named after his dad and both grandfathers.  The other was just as easy after both of my brothers.  I've always been happy with my own, and all the nicknames that have fit me so well.  There is value and substance in a name that is beyond expression.  For example, "And under this head ye are made free, and there is no other head whereby ye can be made free. There is no other name given whereby salvation cometh; therefore, I would that ye should take upon you the name of Christ, all you that have entered into the covenant with God that ye should be obedient unto the end of your lives." Mosiah 5: 8  Perhaps that is why people are so easily offended when we don't remember theirs.  Sadly, names don't come easy to me.  Even after several years of knowing a person, I can draw a blank.  I suppose that living in the same area and having few move-ins helped to not exercise that part of my cerebrum.  Or maybe it was the hours practicing head stands that caused dain bramage.  But nothing was quite as trying as my mission, in regards to this skill, or rather lack thereof. 

For those that don't know I went Spanish-speaking.  Not only did I need to learn their names, and remember them, but many were names with which I was completely unfamiliar.  After reading Kevin!!! I remembered an incident from my mission.  I sat in a room with my companion, our member friend, who's name, of course, I can't recall.  He introduced us to a dozen of his closest friends and we taught them.  Nearing the end of the lesson, I felt more familiar with some of their names, and decided to use them instead of say, "Usted [you]."  "Calendario,..." I don't remember if I said anything else.  I was embarrassed for having said his name wrong.  And everyone was in gales of laughter at my expense.  So I asked him what his name was.  The response, "Candelario."  I thought, 'Well, I was close.  Besides neither makes sense; calendar, candelabra.  Same dif.'  Well shortly after my mission, I saw a couple in the temple (there are benefits to living in the same state where I served.)  I happily greeted a family who frequently fed us... "Sister Galavis!"  um.  It was Galvan.

So if you are greeted with a happy generic, "You."  Please don't feel I don't know or care about you.  I just don't remember names.  I'm all the more amazed, daily, that God knows each and every one of ours.  Exodus 33:17

Fabulously Freaky & Fantastic Fall

Old Rag Mountain, VA

Currently 52 degrees here in TX.  All functional windows open.  Listening to John Denver.  No candy corn in sight.  Living room as clean as it will ever be while I have children at home.  For a million reasons, fall is by far my favorite.

I grew up in VA near the Shenandoah, so the mountains, deciduous trees, acoustic guitar run in my veins.  Please bear with me while I wax sentimental.  Old Rag Mountain.  Hiking with Dad was the best of times.  He was always with the slowest hiker, which was me (we'll blame it on being the youngest, though I doubt that was the real reason.)  Bear's Den with Mike, my 'brother' and friend, playing his twelve string.  Sky Meadow State Park; 11 years old camping out with Dad for the first and last time on snow dusted hills.  Poor man, I forgot my pillow.  I laid on his arm ALL night (maybe men do know pain.)  Long drives down Great Falls Parkway as fast and smooth as I could corner.  Drives down quiet roads through untouched fallen leaves.  My husband and I were married in fall, my sons were born in fall.  And then there's my mother, a new Halloween costume for 3 kids every year, all the way through high school.

Previous years costumes

And, as every mother knows, the tradition must continue...  This year is no different.  The same family celebrations blown out of proportion to build memories.  And an intense desire for my children to have as much fun at this time of year as I do.  So with the measuring tape around my neck like a noose, a shovel to dig out the sewing machine, and every useable scrap of fabric at my disposal (all of which, will likely not fit the bill.)  I sit to make the final decision for my children (since kids can't seem to pair down ideas to their favorites and it changes daily.)  Scott a mummy (a.k.a. mommy; Jim say's, "Mommy's are scary.")  And Jim a Fighter Fighter (a.k.a. Fire fighter), Scooby-Doo or Buzz Lightyear.  Maybe you can help me out with a vote...

Hanging on

Enduring has such a challenging connotation.  Who wants to hang on when there doesn't seem to be any end to waiting, suffering, loss, sorrow, laundry, dishes, diapers...?  I've been pondering this continually over the last few months.  How are you happy when everything seems to go wrong, dreams are lost, and tedium is the daily feast?  I mean manna would get a little tiresome after 40 years. (Ex 16:35)

Here's where the beginning starts, you stop expecting.  What?!  No hope, no ambition, no reward?!  No that's not quite it.  No entitlement, no vanity, no settling for less than the best.  Let me explain. 

There was a rich young man who wanted to inherit the kingdom of God.  He lived a virtuous life and loved the Lord and his fellow man.  He was told in order to inherit, he needed to leave behind all his riches. Luke 18: 18-27  Often, the story is left in the middle when the young man leaves sorrowing for, "he had great possessions."  Leaving the masses under the superstition that he didn't do as he was asked.  It is difficult to do what is expected when we are asked to leave so much behind.  But isn't faith stretching, reaching out to something better?  The scripture says, with God nothing is impossible.

Isn't it obvious that something need be left behind in order to not carry a burden when we are yoked with him. (Matt 11: 28-30)  What does He require that we leave behind?  To paraphrase, "On the path of life, sin is the only acceptable thing to litter."  Let me share a few personal experiences that demonstrate my relationship with the Lord.

It began one night as I knelt by my bed, seeking to know that path the Lord would have me take.  The options as a young single woman were so immense that I found it impossible to make a decision.  After an hour or more pleading to know the best route, the answer came in the form of a question, "What in your life keeps you from being closer to me?"  So I asked myself what it was that I wanted more than to be with Our Father.  Quickly I noticed my error.  I wanted to be married more than anything.  The only way I knew to ensure my not marrying (at least for a time) was to serve a full-time (18mo.) mission.  (One of the rules no dating during that time.) 

Then I wanted to go abroad.  The Lord said state-side.  Well at least I won't be eating Mexican... but then again I learned to love it.  Having seen enough of TX I was happy to return home... only to marry someone from TX.  Someone who hadn't yet completed his education and who was on my "just friends" list, are you seeing a pattern that He knows better?  Children... complications in conceiving.  How about a girl... I love my boys.  At least I can get my education... though I'm married to an instructor, no discount.  So, suffice it to say.  I'm familiar with giving up on what I want.  But having done so much of it, I've found I'm fiercely clinging to my last farthing Mark 12: 41-44. 

So truly the test begins when we are stretched.  It's hard to share the last Oreo.  It's painful to give the last of our free time.  It's excruciating to give the last bit of our dreams or hopes for sleep or having an adult conversation.  But the promise in every sacrifice is for something better.  The whole, salvation, becoming like our Savior...  And so the invitation to strive to give up EVERYTHING we are, EVERYTHING we have, EVERY talent we possess, EVERY selfish desire, EVERY sin.  But in return he promises that we can become like His son, having His image in our countenance Alma 5:14.  Is there anything more blessed than to count ourselves able to bear His cross.  Luke 14:27 and finish our refinement.  To be made whole, perfect.  Having given up everything in us that isn't divine.  Through the process of letting go we make our hands free to hang onto Him, our Rock (Hel 5:12).  And as we make ourselves one, we become like Him.  What a beautiful cross to bear.

So what's your last farthing?  Chocolate?  Sleep?  Personal time?  A trip?  A second toilet?  Talk to Him, and "if ye can no more than desire to believe, let this desire work in you."  (Alma 32:27)

It's good for what ails ya!

Look for me in future editions.

Disclaimer:  My advice comes with no medical license so don't blame me if this isn't a cure all.

There is a contagion of disproportionate amounts that is spanning the globe.  Its viral effects cause varying symptoms from hair loss to erratic appetite! There seems to be no race immune, nor indication of predisposition.  However, lest I strike fear into the heart, there is a cure.  And luckily, there is no concern of non-payment due to a preexisting condition!  The cure?  Laughter.  

This week alone I have been bombarded with self-doubt and self-pity.  I have seen yet another family torn apart due to divorce.  I have witnessed the physical manifestation of stress in multiple individuals.  Sincerely horrible plagues!  Incredibly serious afflictions.  And even contagious attitudes.  What do I say to myself or my friends with serious maladies?  Don't take it too seriously.


PLEASE, don't misunderstand.  I have the greatest empathy for the pain that is suffered.  I do not discount it, demean it, or disregard it.  Yet, be it by situation, others' choices, our own idiocy... there are only two things that can offer a cure or respite; a Savior and a sense of humor.  God sent us here to have experience and learn.  That doesn't mean fantasy land, or Utopia.  That means get our knees dirty and have a great time playing, even if we strike out!  Fix what you can.  Repair what you've done to the best of your ability and then let the rest fly.  The atonement heals victim and sinner alike. 

Misery may like company, but comedy needs an audience!  Take a dose and pass it on.  Hope your days are lookin' up by rising above what life throws at ya!