Genes are weird

This week's question is going to be kind of a hard one, we'll see what I can come up with...

1. Are there any unusual genetic traits that run in your family line?

The word "unusual" is throwing me off; since these traits are in our family I don't really see them as abnormal, but I've thought of a few that might be diferent from most people.

- Red hair! On both my mom and dad's side there are a ton of redheads. We have ancestors from both Ireland and Scotland, which I'm sure is where it comes from. My Grandma Sharee was a redhead, and there are one or two aunts and uncles on both sides that are redheads. My mom always jokes though that it's the blondes or brunettes that end up with the redhead kids. Andrew and I have both always had red hair, although mine fluxuates in it's redness.

- Freckles? This is kind of an obvious addition to the red hair, but our family has very fair skin and almost everyone has freckles. Sadie doesn't have too many, but the rest of us do. 

-Moles... For whatever reason our family, from my dad's side, has a lot of moles. I have a lot, but they usually blend in with my freckles. This is probably where Jasmine's congenital nevus comes from, but there's no actual genetic evidence for that. 

-Humor. This might not actually be a genetic trait, but our whole family for sure has a great sense of humor. We don't all have the same sense of humor, but we're all able to laugh and joke our whole day through. 

Last November Post

I didn't post last week, but at least I'm consistant if not right on schedule, right? We'll answer two more questions today!


Have any of your family members died? If so, what did they die from? What do you remember of their death, and what were the circumstances of their death?

I remember three family deaths, although I'm certain there have been more that I'm forgetting. The first one I remember is my aunt Sarah Anne's death. Sarah Anne was my mom's sister that was born right after her. She and my mom always shared a room growing up, and I know my mom considered her one of her best friends. When Sarah was really little, she started having seizures, and was soon diagnosed with cerebral palsy. From the little I remember of her, she was almost always in a wheelchair, unable to feed herself or talk, and she would make loud sounds that scared me. I wish sometimes that I wouldn't have been scared of her so I could have seen what my mom saw in her. When she was I think about 31 years old, she got pneumonia and was in the hospital. They gave her an oxygen tank and sent her home once she got a little better, but Sarah knew it was her time to go. Grandma Sharee said that she kept trying to put the oxygen mask back on Sarah, but she would pull it off and throw it to the side. She died pretty soon after that. I remember when my mom got the call that she had passed away. She was on the phone in the kitchen and I saw her start to cry and walk away down the hallway. My mom was sad for a few weeks afterwards. We went to her funeral a week or so later, and I didn't know why but I cried the whole time. I could tell how loved and cherished Sarah Anne was by all her siblings and her mom, and that she was going to be missed; but at the same time, I could also feel the unspeakable joy that Sarah was finally back with her dad, and that she wasn't restrained by a body that didn't function the way everyone else's did. I almost thought I could feel her in the room with us. My mom spoke at the funeral, and I remember her and her sisters also singing If You Could Hi to Kolob.

The next family member I remember passing away was my Grandpa Conrad. I remember visiting him a lot when we would go to Utah, and looking around his old farm house and barn. I thought it was so cool that they had a barn and silos in their backyard. He would take us on rides on his tractor sometimes. I think he died a year or so after Sarah Anne, and he had pretty bad Alzheimers before he passed away. I loved his crazy thick, white hair and how he would tell us stories when we'd visit him. We always got a Fat Boy ice cream sandwich when we went to his house. I don't remember much about his funeral except that my mom and a few of her sisters sang again and that there was a slideshow of cool old pictures of him. I've always wanted to name one of my sons after Grandpa Conrad.

The last one I remember was the saddest. The oldest boy cousin on my dad's side, Peter, had put his mission papers in and was a few days away from leaving when he was in a four-wheeling accident that killed him immediately. I was over at my friend Megan's house making cookies, and my mom knocked on the door and said I needed to come home right away. On the short walk home, she told me my cousin Peter had died. I couldn't believe it. When I got home, all my siblings and my dad were in the living room, and my dad asked us all to kneel down to pray together for Peter's family. That was one of the most powerful prayers I have ever experienced. I hadn't heard anything except for that he had passed away, but I felt a peace and power in that prayer and I knew everything would be okay. My story here might not be completely accurate, but I felt like recording it anyways. I was told that after Peter crashed, his brother Jacob ran down the hill to get help. On his way down, Jacob saw Peter's spirit, and Peter told him that everything that was happening was part of God's plan, and that it would be alright. Peter had important missions to do on the other side of the veil. I didn't go to his funeral, but I think my dad did. We visited his grave a few years later hen we went to Utah for a family reunion.

What kind of hardships or tragedies did your family experience while you were growing up?

This is actually kind of a hard question. I can think of a lot of hardships in my life right at the moment with a baby, finances, school, etc. And I could probalby list a few that were probably hard for my parents, which are about the same: babies, finances and school. But looking back on my childhood and growing up, the things I remember as a family as being hard were probably moving, and that's about it. We moved I think 4 or 5 times from when I was born until I was in elementary school, a few times around Utah, to Houston and back, and then finally up to Washington. It was always hard to go to a new place with new schools and new wards and no friends, and I'm sure it was that way for everyone in my family. I know my parents don't like living so far from their siblings and parents, and making new friends in a new ward is hard no matter what age you are. When we moved up to Washington when I was 6, it was in the middle of the school year, and that was pretty hard. Then I changed schools again when we moved to the house we're in now on Quinault, and that was even harder. All of that being said, my childhood was pretty rosy and fun. I don't remember ever going without, we always got along, had fun as a family and made do with what we had. My parents have done pretty dang good at keeping us as a family together and happy no matter the circumstances.

More about Mis Padres

This weeks question is about my parents again!

What kind of work did your parents do (farmer, salesman, manager, seamstress, nurse, stay-at-home mom, professional, laborer, and so on)?

From when I was born until I was 6 years old, my dad was going to school to become a Physical Therapist. During that time he worked with my Grandpa Don, doing what he'd done in high school before, working as a brick mason. I don't remember this myself, but my mom told me when I was older that he would go back and forth between working and taking classes. We moved to Houston when I was 5 for him to go to Graduate School, and then when I was 6, he got a job in Pasco, Washington as a Physiscal Therapist for Columbia Physical Therapy. He has worked at that same clinic for the past 14 years, and I believe he's the manager now. I remember visiting his clinic every once and a while as a kid, usually to do the yard work around the building. The company's owner, Richard Wright, would pay each of us per hour that we worked if we would weed/sweep/wash windows/ect. After we were done working, there was a hot tub inside that my dad would fill up and we would swim around in there for an hour or two. Sometimes Dad would roll a TV in and we would watch a movie while we sat in the hot tub. One year, Cameron decided he wanted to go to the clinic's hot tub for his birthday.

After I graduated high school, my Dad hired me to work as a PT Aide in his clinic. It was such a fun experience working with and for my dad after hearing so many stories about crazy patients. I learned a lot from watching him interact with people and caring about them. Even though his job was to take care of people's physical injuries or weaknesses, my dad is a fantastic listener, and I watched a lot of people confide in him and get some emotional therapy along with their physical therapy.

My mom has been stay-at-home mom ever since I was born. I remember many times my dad telling us how lucky we were to have our mom at home and how much she had sacrificed for us, but I didn't truly appreciate it until I had Jasmine. I'm sure my mom was a lot like I am: she had dreams and goals and a career she had been planning on persuing, but she gave it up because she loved us enough to put us first. I have such fond memories of playing with my mom and spending my days with her, and I am so grateful she was able to be at home with all of us. She's worked a few random part-time jobs that I remember; she was a gymnastics coach when I was 6 or 7, and then again while I was in high school, and she worked for Sunset View Elementary school for a year. Right now, while still doing everything she's always done as a mom and wife, she's taking online classes to complete her degree. If I can be half as successful a mom as she's been, I will have lived a happy life. I know my life was so much richer having my mom always home with me.

Two Questions

So last week Ethan, Jasmine and I moved from our apartment in beautiful Hawaii to my parent's basement in freezing cold Washington State. Between cleaning out our apartment, packing up everything we own into 7 suitcases, and moving thousands of miles with a 5 month old baby, and then taking a trip across the state 4 days later, I've been a little busy. So I'll do two questions today :) Luckily they relate to each other, so that should be fun.

1. Tell me about your father (his name, birth date, birthplace, parents, and so on). Share some memories you have of your father.

My dad's name is Clay James Smith. He was born on September 20th, 1968 in Salt Lake City, Utah to Pamela Jane and Don Mack Smith. He grew up in Utah with 10 brothers and sisters, who he would tell us stories about every night before bed as "Daddy Stories". After high school he went to Snow College on a football scholarship, then on a two year mission in the Lima North Mission in Peru. After his mission, he started courting, dating, and then eventualy married his best friend's little sister, my mom, in the Manti Utah temple on October 2nd, 1992. Two and a half years later I was born, their first daughter!

 

Growing up I remember thinking my dad was the tallest, strongest man in the whole world. He could lift anything, fix anything, and scare away all the bad guys. I remember riding around on his shoulders and dancing on top of his feet. When I was 4 1/2, he got into a graduate school in Houston, Texas, and we moved down there for a few years. I remember a few times emailing him while he was at school and getting so excited when he emailed back. I also remember him practicing his physical therapist skills on me before tests and laughing. 

My dad has always been the funny guy, and growing up I was always laughing at his jokes and trying to be funny like dad. He was always making dumb little jokes that I thought were the funniest things in the world. I think I got my sense of humor mostly from my dad and listening to him tease. Now we both joke together and it is so much fun. 

Dad always made sure we all had special time with him, and I have so many fun memories of daddy-daughter dates and outings together. He took me to dances, out to dinner, bowling with other daddy-daughter pairs, and even now that I'm married with a little family of my own, he took me out to lunch a few months ago and then we made a cheesecake together. 

My most favorite memory of my dad from growing up is that he would come into my room every night before I went to bed, and I would tell him all about my day, what was going on at school and with my friends, questions I had, and just my thoughts in general. He would sit and listen as I spilled everything, and he would give me advice and support, then we would pray together. When I moved away to college, I realized just how special those times were, and I missed talking to my dad every night. I knew he was always so busy, and exausted too, but he made special time for me every night and I loved that. 

Now as an adullt, wife and mother, it's so nice to be able to talk to my dad as an adult and appreciate even more the wisdom and advice I can always get. It's funny, but I'm pretty sure no matter how old I get, my dad will always be just that- my dad. I'll be 65 and still calling my dad for advice.

2. Tell me about your mother (her name, birth date, birthplace, parents, and so on). Share some memories you have of your mother.

Genene Mather was born on November 26th, 1972 to Sharee Genene and Garth Henry Mather in Provo, Utah. She was the fourth child of eleven kids, and the first of five girls. She grew up for the first few years in Provo, where my grandpa worked at BYU Provo, and then they moved to Highland, just a few blocks away from my dad. She went to school there, and we've heard so many stories growing up about their little house in Provo with her siblings and friends, and being on the dance team, doing gymnastics, and being a cheerleader. I always thought it was funny that my dad was a football/basketball star and my mom was a cheerleader. 

I remember my first years of life having so much fun with my Mommy. We went on walks, fed the ducks, went to the library, played dress up, walked to the park, cooked dinner, did dishes, and so many other things. I always thought she was the prettiest woman in the whole world. No one could ever be prettier than my Mommy. I always played with her jewelry and pretty things. 

Looking back, my favorite memory of me and my mom was our after school talks. Much like my dad set aside time for me at night, my mom would listen to me after school every day for at least 45 minutes while I was the only one home. I would tell her about everything, going through the day in my head trying to think of cool things or funny stories from my school day. I loved being able to sit while I was snacking and knowing that I had my mom's full attention every afternoon. 

When I went to college, I really missed telling my mom everything, and I would call her all the time. Gradually though, I started getting really stressed out and overwhelmed with life, and for some reason the part of my life I decide to cut out was talking to my mom every day. I wil never forgive myself for cutting her out and neglecting the relationship she had worked so hard to build for 18 years. I remember even lashing out once telling my mom to stop bugging me so much, without even realizing that what I needed was actually to open up to her more. We had a really rough patch for quite a few months that took a lot of time, tears and pain to iron out.

Now, though, I feel like I can talk to my mom about pretty much anything. She's been there for me in the hardest times of my life, carried me through experiences that I thought would destroy me, and had always known just what I needed to make it through my roughest days. After Ethan, I consider my mom to be my best friend. Especially now that I'm a mom too, I appreciate so much all the work and sweat and blood and tears she has put into raising me. She has sacrificed so much, and continues to sacrifice so much for me and my family to stay safe and loved.

I have no idea where I would be without my incredible parents. I have been so, so blessed.

Week Number 2!

I'm doing it! Consistent for two weeks! I can do this.

Here's week number 2's question:

When and where were you born? Describe your home, your neighborhood, and the town you grew up in.

I was born on June 23rd, 1995 at 1:05 PM in the American Fork Hospital. We lived in Utah until I was 4 1/2, moved to Texas where I went to Kindergarten at Parker Elementary School, moved back to Utah for a few months and then to Kennewick, Washington, where we lived from when I was 6 until I left to go to college.

When we first moved to Kennewick, we lived in a little red rental home on Willamette Ave. I remember thinking it was so cool that we could see the river from our front porch! There were technically 2 bedrooms in that house, my parents in one and Cameron and Andrew in the other, and I got the fancy sewing room converted into my bedroom. It had a big window on one side looking out onto the front lawn, under which was my bed. The wall opposite that was covered in drawers! I thought it was the most awesome room ever! I had a door on one side leading into the hallway and french doors on the other side that led into the living room. I remember most of the house was wooden floors,  except for I think Mom and Dad's bedroom and the TV room down the hall (which I'm fairly certain used to be a garage.) We had two giant trees in our backyard, and a swing on one of them that Cameron and I would take turns spinning each other in. I remember that house and those years fondly.

The summer I turned 8, just a few weeks before my baptism in fact, we moved from the house on Willamette to the house my parents bought on Quinault Ave in Kennewick Park. Luckily it was in the same ward, but a different school. I started out in the bedroom upstairs in the left corner, then downstairs by the TV room, and eventually downstairs in what used to be referred to as "Grandma's room". It was in this house that I went from little girl to awkward preteen to awkward teenager to somewhat confident high schooler and then off to college and beyond. It was in this house I learned to play piano, started taking an interest in boys, learned how to roller blade, made some of my best friends. It was also where I learned that not everyone is nice, boys can break hearts, and that life is harder than fairy tales once you become an adult. When I think about my parents leaving the house it makes me so sad. I grew more physically perhaps the other places we lived, but that house on the corner of Quinault and Quebec is where I became who I am.

The neighborhood we lived in was a quiet one, a few kids our age around the block, and the chapel just down the street. Since we lived on a corner/cul-de-sac, our street was usually pretty quiet and we played a lot of kickball and soccer in the streets. I remember too climbing trees all the time, reading up there and trying to get high enough to see past the rooftops and electrical wires. We also rode bikes all the time; Cameron and I used to go to the church parking lot with our friends and pretend we were police guys on our bikes chasing the bad guys down.

When people ask what the Tri Cities is like, I often call it "mini Utah". It's not a lot of the same landscape, but our school was about 15% LDS. We had enough members in Kamiakin to have release time seminary every hour of the day! It wasn't a very "exciting" town, but there are a lot of great parks, the river, a good public library where I spent a lot of time, and the weather is usually pretty mild.

New Goal - I can do it!!!

So I know I'm really off and on about this whole blogging thing, but I saw a post on the Family Search facebook page that stuck out to me, so I'm going to do it. It's called "52 Questions in 52 Weeks". I've copied and pasted all of the questions so I won't forget them, so we'll see how this goes! It may not be very exciting, but it's going to keep me writing, and that's the goal.

WEEK ONE 

What is your full name? Why did your parents give you that name?

My full name is Lindsey Nicole Mulberg (maiden name Smith). My parents gave me this name because my dad liked Lindsey and my mom liked Nicole, so they put them together and that is my name! 

When I looked up the meanings of my names, Lindsey means "From the Lake Settlement Island" and Nicole means "Victory of the People". Smith pretty much just means any kind of smith (blacksmith, silversmith, etc). Mulberg comes from Muhlberg, and I'm not sure what it means. I should research that. I do know that it is German, so it's probably something strong and manly. 

I double checked the list, and it doesn't ask about my kid's names, so I'll put that in here too.

Ethan and I named our daughter Jasmine Chanel Mulberg. We fought over names for the longest time, until one day I got a text from Ethan that said, "What about Jasmine?" I was surprised to find that I actually really liked it, especially paired with our last name. I thought about a lot of middle names we could use, and I really liked the name Sariah. Then, while I was in the hospital being induced, Ethan said, "What about Chanel as a middle name?" It was perfect.

I did some research before Jasmine was born about what her name means. The jasmine flower is a small white flower, often used for brides to symbolize purity. It also has a very sweet scent that is used for meditation and peace as well as in teas. When I was reading about it, this flower is very precious and prized.

Chanel is the name of a close family friend of ours. She was diagnosed a few years ago with systematic Scleroderma, a disease that gradually hardens everything in your body; there isn't a known cure. Chanel has walked through it all keeping her head high and fighting with everything she's got. We want Jasmine to hold her name and look up to Chanel as an example of a strong, beautiful woman that she can learn from. 

Gratitude Letter

I know, three posts in three days??? What is this world coming to??

This morning when I woke up I knew it was going to be a hard day. Sometimes I have these days where I wake up and all I want to do is lay in bed and close my eyes all day long. I don't even care if I sleep, I just don't really want to be awake either. Lucky for me I'm a mom and a homemaker, so that's really not an option. As I was doing the morning dishes I decided I want to get out of this funk, so I googled "What to do on days I feel blue". The first suggestion that came up was a gratitude letter/list, so  here goes.

Lindsey's Gratitude List

I am grateful we have a roof over our heads, and a place we know we're going to in 3 weeks.

I'm grateful for a baby girl who is always so happy, even when Mommy and Daddy have rough days.

I am blessed to have food in our cupboards and the ability to feed my family.

I am so thankful for a ward who cares for us and helps us with whatever we need, whenever we need it.

The nice things we got for our wedding, even though we have to sell a lot of them

The internet, for connecting me to my loved ones and helping me with pretty much everything

Applesauce, just for being the glorious food it is

My health and quick recovery from giving birth. 

A car that gets us where we need to go; it's not the best car, but it runs and gets good gas mileage

The ability to pay tithing and see the blessings that follow

Robert and Sheila. As we sell all our stuff, I can't believe how much of it we got from them.

Footie pajamas. Jasmine looks so dang cute in them it's ridiculous

The Scriptures, for giving me guidance and strength when I don't know what to do

Parents who love and guide

Grandparents who set firm foundations for their children and grandchildren and made paths to follow

The rain we got yesterday. I hadn't had an adventure in a long time

McDonalds for saving me when I really don't want to cook.

My $100 gift card to the seasider for being my lunch money for the past 2 weeks

The Flakes. I have no idea where we would be without them taking Jasmine and saving my sanity every once and a while

Temple covenants and blessings. I feel their guidance and power in my life every day

I have a lot to be thankful for :) My day is starting to look up. I hope I can remember how much I am truly blessed.

Moving

I blogged yesterday and it felt extremely therapeutic, so I'm doing it again today.

I was just sitting on the couch waiting for Ethan to come home from taking an Accounting test, playing Candy Crush like a normal adult, and I started thinking about how we're leaving soon. Then I did the math, counted the days we have left, and it hit me. I've realized it a few times before, and it makes me sad, but this time when I realized I have less than 21 days left in the place I've made a home for the last 14 months, I got a pit in my stomach and felt sick.

I'm not someone who makes friends very easily. In a group of people, or even with just one or two people I don't know well, I can be really shy and awkward. When we first moved into this ward, I would leave as fast as possible after Relief Society because I was scared someone I didn't know was going to try to come up and talk to me. Now, in that same ward, I have some of the best friends I've ever had, and it's taken me the last year plus two months to get here. Now we're leaving and I'm going to have to start all over again.

I will be with my family, so that's going to be fantastic. I'm just so worried about making friends my age. All my high school friends are in school still, and the ones that aren't are just barely coming home from missions. I don't know if I know anyone from high school that's in the same boat I'm in right now, married and with a baby. What if I don't make any new friends? I won't be lonely, but it is nice to have women in the same boat as you to cheer each other on.

Part of me wishes we weren't going back, both to maintain the independence we're so used to now and to keep the good friends we have here. I know we're supposed to leave, we can't afford to be out here anymore. But there's a rough road ahead of us. I only hope we can be strong enough.

Humility and Gratitude

So these last few months have been pretty hard, not gonna lie. Not only did we take on the responsibility of raising a little baby girl, but we've taken on the medical bills that come with it. Add to that the fact that we're already trying to pay for school and living in Hawaii, etc, etc....

Life is hard. And expensive.

For a while I was in denial that we needed help. I kept telling myself, "It's okay, we can do this. We should make enough money in the next few months to pay off our bills." Neglecting to think about the other bills that would come in those months.

Ethan and I finally decided we needed help. We're in a position where we just can't afford pretty much anything anymore. Moving home is going to help with that, and we've found clinics that will see Jasmine and I for $40 or less a visit, which is fantastic. But we somehow still needed to eat for the next month before we leave and we didn't really have a way to pay for that, so we went to the Bishop asking for help.

When the Relief Society president came by with the order form to help fill it out so we could get what we needed, I was still a little hesitant. I didn't want to take too much, and I still felt like there were probably other people who needed it more than us. But I swallowed my pride and told her how many cans of peaches and beans and spaghetti sauce we would probably need. She texted me later that week to say that Bishop would like if we could go ourselves to pick it all up to see what the Storehouse was like and where our food was coming from.

Saturday morning we drove down, and I was thinking it would be a little like grocery shopping, just with an order form instead of paying.

When we walked inside and they started helping us get everything we needed, I was overcome with a sense of both humility and gratitude. I realized how excited I was over cans of peaches and boxes of cereal, how excited I got over getting Jello and pudding, and I realized at the same time how much we really needed this help. I was so humbled by how much the church was able to give us, and so, so grateful. I thought about all of the times I had paid fast offerings and tithing, and the scripture in Malachi that says, "Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, that there may be meat in mine house, and prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it."

A few weeks before in a night of overwhelming stress, I had said to Ethan, "We're paying our tithing and doing all the right things and I don't feel like I'm seeing the blessings. Why are we still struggling?" I finally saw where those blessing were, right in front of me the whole time.

I had been denying the Lord the opportunity to bless me because I was still too prideful to accept help. I wanted to do it all on my own to prove how strong we were and how I was an adult who knew how to run my life. And I still am an adult, and I still feel strong. We've been going through some crazy hard stuff, and I know I wouldn't have been able to make it without the strength the Lord has blessed me with. And I'm learning to make responsible decisions that every adult should know how to make. Heavenly Father didn't want to take that away from me, He just wanted to lighten my burden so that I could focus on the things that matter most.

The Gospel.
My husband.
My daughter.
And even myself.

I can't express how blessed I feel to be a part of a church where we are so taken care of and loved. I was afraid going in that we would be looked at, and she would see the nice car seat and expensive diaper bag, both of which we received as gifts, and think that we were just trying to mooch. But as she led us around the storehouse showing us where everything was kept, she did it with love and compassion, and even mentioned that she wished we had come sooner.

I wish we had gone sooner, but I'm glad we finally went. I'm so grateful for a husband who sat me down and said, "Look, we need help. We keep saying we can do this on our own, but we can't." I'm grateful for his humility when I was still so prideful. I'm thankful for a loving relief society president who went out of her way to help me and makes me feel loved and cared for at a time when I'm so far from all my family. I'm so thankful for all the people who volunteer their time and sacrifice their money to help families like us who are just trying to get by.

We may be struggling, but we are so, so blessed. I hope that I can always remember what I've learned this weekend.

Inspiration through Hymns

Wow, it's been a while, eh?

So this last Saturday I was asked to play the piano for Sacrament Meeting, and in our ward the pianist chooses the hymns. It actually works really well, this way whatever they've chosen they're comfortable with playing.

I was trying to find a sacrament hymn, and every one I looked at just kind of felt "meh". When I choose hymns I try to choose ones that really speak to me; since I can't sing and play at the same time very well, I like playing hymns I know well so I still know what words are going with the music I'm playing, which in turn lets me still contemplate the message the hymn is trying to convey. Well this time, none of them were standing out until I turned to hymn #187, "God Loved Us, So He Sent His Son". I saw it, thought "maybe", then turned to the next hymn. Right when I turned the page, I felt something distinctly telling me I needed to go back and play that hymn. It was a weird prompting, but I just shrugged and thought, "why not?" and jotted it down.

In Sacrament Meeting the next day, while playing I tried to look around. I watched to see if it was a hymn someone in specific needed that day, but it was just like every other sacrament meeting: most people singing, a few people on their phones, and Jasmine being cute and staring at all the new faces. The hymn came and went, and nothing seemed different. I was very confused. Why did I feel so prompted to choose that specific hymn? What am I missing?

While the sacrament was being passed, I decided to read through all the words to see if there was something I didn't hear while I was playing, and sure enough, there it was in the third verse:

"Oh, love effulgent, love divine!

What debt of gratitude is mine,

That in his off'ring, I have part

And hold a place within his heart "

At that moment, I realized that the person who needed that hymn was me. Lately I've been wondering if I'm doing everything I should be doing, if I'm really doing all that Heavenly Father wants me to be doing. I'll be honest, I've been feeling like a slacker and a bum for a while. But there in that verse was the reassurance I needed! It doesn't say that we need to pay our debt of deeds or diligence or perfectness. The only thing we're missing is our gratitude. That's it. To hold a place within our Savior's heart, all he asks is gratitude.

Now don't misinterpret me -  gratitude doesn't just mean saying "Thank you" and we're saved. Showing gratitude means we acknowledge His hand in our lives, and we live to show that we are appreciative of what he's done for us. We live to the best we can live, show our gratitude in the way we know how, and we have a part in his offering and a place in his heart. We don't have to be the perfect mother or wife or student or friend- we just have to try and allow God to lift us higher. 

I don't know if this is making sense to anyone but myself, but it was such a tender mercy for me. The Lord loves us and invites us into His fold. God loved, and loves us. He sent His Son as the perfect sacrifice and can't wait for us to take advantage of it.  

Praying for Patience

As is probably obvious if you know me well, I am not really a patient person by nature. If I try really, really hard and focus solely on being patient, I can do it. But it takes so much mental effort. I was thinking the other day about the question: "If I could wake up with one new ability or quality, what would it be?"

It was really hard to narrow all of the things I lack down to just one thing, but when patience came to mind I knew that's what it would be. There have been so many times in my life I either lashed out at people or gave up on something, sometimes myself, because I didn't posses the patience to see it through.

So of course I prayed the next day that I will be able to develop more patience, especially before our kids actually get here. I don't want to be a mom who gets mad fast, and from my history I can tell you that's the direction I can see myself going in, as much as I dread it.

Jump forward approximately 5 days: test number one has come, because that's how a lot of my prayers are answered. Tests. Experiences. Yikes.

I won't go into specifics, but someone said something to me that really made me upset. Maybe it's pregnancy hormones (wouldn't surprise me), but I couldn't stop thinking about it. I kept going over in my head why in the world anyone would say that, it felt completely unnecessary to me. Then, right after the though went through my head: "I can't stand this person! I've tried and I just can't!", my mind immediately went back to being Relief Society president a few years ago.

Another thing you know if you've known me for a while is that I don't have a lot of girl friends. I don't hang out in groups of girls and go shopping or pain my nails or do each others hair or whatever. In fact, sometimes girls drive me crazy. It's not that they're bad people, it's just my personality. I get along a lot better with guys. And so to be called to be the president of a group of forty-something 18 and up girls was a huge challenge. And not only did I need to organize meetings and activities and visiting teaching and whatnot, but I was expected to love each and every one of them, to try and be their friend. I honestly had no idea how in the world I was going to pull that off without looking like I was faking it.

With all of this in my heart and on my mind, I went in to the bishop's office to be set apart, something I honestly just viewed as routine. He said the normal things, that I would be blessed with the knowledge of how to run things and whatnot. And then he said something that completely changed my whole perspective: "I bless you with the knowledge that the Savior loves these girls and with the ability to love them as He does." Holy. Cow. As soon as those words were said, a whole new part of my heart was opened and I felt this wave of overwhelming love for every girl in my Relief Society, even though I didn't even know them yet. I felt the desire the Savior had for me to share that love, to show these girls that they meant something, that they were so, so precious. I started crying, and the only words I can think of to describe it was tears of love. Even though I didn't know these girls, and probably wouldn't get along with some of them at any other time or situation in my life, the Savior's Atonement was able to erase any negativity I had (at that time) towards them and instead filled my heart with compassion and love.

As I remembered this tonight, I realized that it's okay that I feel like I can't stand this person. It's okay not to love every single person on the planet and be their absolute best friend. But when it comes down to it, Heavenly Father wants us to grab hold of the Atonement and let it fill what we can't do. It's not just for erasing our sins- it's to strengthen us and lift us to places we could otherwise never reach. It took me a long time to understand that concept, but I am so grateful for it now! And while praying for patience is never the easy route, I'm so glad I've been able to have my eyes opened to the Savior's point of view yet again.

March 9th

Haha, guess what we've learned since my last post? That's right! We're having a little GIRL! Don't worry, I was a little surprised too. And while this definitely wasn't what Ethan or I were expecting, here she is, and she's growing like crazy!

I'm probably going to start a little baby blog to document our little girl, so I'm not going to talk as much about pregnancy or whatnot today. I just want to vent about life. Sound good? Sweet.

So life has been crazy, as usual. We just got past midterms, and we both survived (hallelujah), so now it's just the home stretch to the end of the semester! There's only about a month to go and then we're free for at least a week, I think. Which means that's probably when all of our cleaning and laundry and shopping will get done, so it's not really a break, more just a change from one kind of busy to another. But in three and a half days Shaka Steel is going on tour to the Big Island!!! I'm super excited to get away from work and school for a few days and experience a different (and bigger) island. Although I'm realizing as I write this post that I'll probably have to take some biology homework with me to do at night.... shoots. 

On a different note, I am coming to really love and feel connected to our ward. Bishop Kinghorn is such a loving and funny guy, and I'm starting to make really good friends with our neighbors and ward members. It took a while, but now that we're settled in and comfortable it just feels so nice. I'm already sad that we'll eventually have to leave when the baby gets older and bigger and it won't be practical to have her in our room anymore :( If only there was a two bedroom apartment in this ward! There are, however, lots of families having babies or graduating, so by the time we have to leave it won't really be the same ward we started with. Dang student wards.

I realized the other day that the longer I'm away from home, the more I turn into my mom. Even just little things like organizing the pantry, planning dinner lists, getting random bursts of "I need to change my home somehow let's deep clean the entire bedroom"... They're all things that I watched my mom do, even laughed sometimes when she would randomly rearrange the living room, but now I do the exact same things. It's somewhat refreshing and reassuring to know that I'll have at least some of her traits and tendencies as I journey into motherhood; she raised pretty awesome kids, if I do say so myself, and if I can do even a little bit like her, I think I'll do okay :)