Gratitude

One of my favorite talks (I have it saves in paper form from an old Ensign) is one President Monson gave on "An Attitude of Gratitude" from years and years ago, long before he was ever prophet. I actually don't recall him giving it--I read it in a Dr.'s office while waiting to be seen and had them make me a copy. Only in Utah, right? I really appreciated the reiteration of that same sentiment by President Monson this past Conference.

I am really really really behind on my blogging. I never understood people saying they wanted to give up blogging, but lately I've felt it. It's so onerous! I have been taking photos but we had trouble uploading them and now I'm so far behind. I have photos from the kids playing, from the Pumpkin Patch, from our trip to Bandon and Crescent City, and from the Ward Halloween party! Ahhh!

The last thing I need to be doing is another boring wordy post. Yet, here I am. Today I was reading Whit's Aunt Jane's blog and it made me think. Growing up, I recall vividly feeling so happy when I would be at a friend's house and they suggested cereal for breakfast. We never had cereal growing up, except when my dad once scored like three huge brown moving boxes full of cereal that had been damaged in shipping for like $5 a box. It was like 60 boxes of cereal and we were painting that day, and I still remember that day felt like Christmas in spite of being up scraping and painting out in the heat on scaffolding because another house was going on the market...

But the point, and I do have one, is that those same friends loved to come to my house, where my mom woke up early every morning and made us pancakes, waffles, french toast, eggs, grits, bacon or sausage (sometimes), oatmeal and/or biscuits. She'd even make us cocoa rolls, or cinnamon rolls, or apricot nut bread some mornings. Every morning we had something delicious she had taken the time to make, and she ate it with us. Cereal might have exceeded her budgetary restraints but she maxed us out each day on her time. I never doubted that she made us her priority. My mom's so smart--she could have gotten a job and we could have eaten cereal every day, but that wasn't her goal--to keep us eating Lucky Charms. Her goal was to keep us feeling the love...and we always did.

She didn't read the paper, or watch a tv show, or Good Morning America. She talked to us, cleaned up after us and then prepared our lunches, just like Cali wrote about. She sent us with little notes in our lunches, too, and bought special snacks for us that we loved. Jesse loved those disgusting honey buns and I liked those weird oatmeal cakes, for some reason, or the apple turnovers. It was annoying to have to carry the tupperware home, but I always knew, knew deep down in my bones, that I was loved, cherished even.

Sure, I was a dork, a total nerd. I used to hide in the library and read during lunch, unsure if I wanted to brave the cafeteria where I might not have friends to sit by or I might be made fun of. I spent most of my time reading. And you know what? That was okay. Because, even when the kids made fun of me for my handmade clothing, and lack of designer logos, I knew without a doubt that my mom (and dad, though he was less crafty) loved me. Now, mom, the librarian glasses? You let me choose those horrid frames and those are still on you, but for the rest, I have developed an undying sense of gratitude for the time you and dad spent, devoted, dedicated, to your kids. You really made us your number one priority.

Now, in my life, I am able to witness something different. We have money, the money to buy all the capri-suns, hot lunches and packaged cereal we or our spoiled kids would ever want. Our kids won't have to suffer through dry sandwiches, or tupperware carrying at school. But I hope they will still know that their parents love them. I know for a fact their dad does. I see him out there, every single blessed day, whether he has to go into work at 5 pm to work until 5 am or not, playing tag, or right now, hide-and-go-seek with Eli and Dora. Eli hides (or counts) while Whitney (with Dora on his shoulders) does the other... hiding or counting. Then Dora gives away their position when Eli's looking by squeaking or cooing or babbling or Eli asks me where Whitney hid. Then Eli wants to hide wherever Whit just hid. He's no master at the game yet, but Whit plays with him, for HOURS ON END. I'm not exaggerating here. Whitney plays and plays with the kids, letting Eli climb up his body while holding his hands, lifting the kids and spinning them around, and so on. It amazes me, his devotion to me, his dedication to those kids.

Whether they eat cereal or not (and I confess, most mornings we do. I love breakfast food, but we often eat it after dad's gone to work for dinner because it's so easy!) our kids will never doubt their father loves them. Just as I never doubt my Father in Heaven loves me. I am so grateful--full to brimming with the blessings I've received. My kids cried today from about 5 minutes before their baths until almost time to get out and dry off--I'd estimate a good 20 minutes easy--both of them screaming at the tops of their lungs. And yet...

They're little angels. They also kissed each other today, unsolicited. Eli helps me by getting things, taking things to the trash and playing games with Dora. Isadora will come up now and give me a hug, or kiss, unasked for. They both make the funniest jokes, and Dora especially makes these hilarious faces and silly eyes. I just can't help but look at my life and rejoice in my blessings--I love my husband so much, and I love my family. The only thing missing, and he'll always be a little black hole in my overfull heart, is my little brother. Luckily, I know the gospel is true and he's waiting for me, to welcome me home when my time comes, on the other side of the veil. I know he's doing a good work in the interim. Eli tells me all the time that Uncle Jesse loves me, and I just know it's true. I love my family--I love my life. Thanks, Heavenly Father, for the richness and depth of my many blessings. I'm sorry I sometimes lose sight of them, but I promise to do a better job focusing on the wonder of my life. I hope you can all do the same. (All three of my readers--that's right, mom, Whitney and Emma.) Haha.