This year, 43, was a good birthday. I'm starting to get to the point that others older than I am have expressed in not wanting to be celebrated on my birthday because birthdays mean I'm getting older. I know forty-three is quite young comparatively, and I give thanks for the years that I have been given and for the sacrifice my parents made to bring me into the world and raise me.
I told Michael that the only two things I wanted on my birthday were (1) a family picture and (2) for the kids to play well together. While I was getting ready for the day (a fast Sunday, which disappointed the kids because they wanted to bring me breakfast in bed, but which made my day a little easier), Michael went out to the living room to play with the kids and let me have some space. He came back into the bathroom and said, "Your gift will have to be a gift in progress. I think the best way for your birthday gift to be realized is if you go off by yourself and imagine the kids playing well together." :-)
Too true. There are definitely sweet moments, and hearing them laugh together is truly golden, but sometimes these days I struggle to see the forest for the trees and get so bogged down by the competing and teasing and bickering. I try to focus on the good choices they are making, which are numerous, but when one brother teases another and the second brother proceeds to punch the first brother in the back multiple times, my patience is often pushed to the tipping point. I continue to work on my parenting skills and learn from books, but I also recognize that acting like a disciple of Jesus Christ using a soft answer to turn away wrath is the best solution. If only I could achieve that more than a tenth of the time... I think much of it will be resolved when they just grow up and their prefrontal cortices are more developed. But that also means that the decisions they make then have greater consequences. Every season has its blessings and challenges, and I am trying to savor Clayton's sweet kisses and hugs around my neck, his willingness to tidy up, and how he likes collecting acorns in his pockets; Benjy's eagerness to play a game with me and his curiosity (which recently led him to taking apart his kaleidoscope so he could see how it worked); Henry sharing what he's learning about in school (currently the middle ages) and watching him play sports; talking with Robbie at night about school and watching him run super fast in cross country; and Clara asking me, "What's the plan?" multiple times a day and informing me, "I need a hug." She gives great hugs. I truly am a blessed mother. (Of course, I am typing this while sitting at an airport gate on my way to visit my parents; amazing how a little perspective helps spur gratitude!).
My friend, Joy Lansing, also met up with me for lunch at Keswick Hall in Charlottesville the week after, which made me feel loved.
The first morning, we rose bright and early and did a sealing session at the Orem temple. It was so beautiful and I loved the cherry blossom theming throughout the temple.
I'm so grateful for my parents who continue to serve, smile, and endure to the end despite health challenges and the difficulties of getting older.
. . . walks with my parents around their block, seeing their impressive dialysis setup for my dad and being amazed by their positive spirit through it all, errands with my mom, yummy dinner with Heather and my parents, sharing spiritual experiences at the lunch table,





