Reason # 463 that I don't answer phone calls from numbers I don't recognize...

Not more than a half hour ago I was allowing myself a moments rest from thoughts of Kindergarten when my phone rang. As always, I look and see if I know the number. I didn't. The number was a Utah number, so I answered it like I sometimes do when it is an in state number and what do I hear? A really long and loud burp on the other end. A burp worthy of Elf. The burp is followed by, "Hello? I think I may have called the wrong number. Is this ________?"
*Sigh*
*Face Palm*
Whhhhyyyyyyyyyyy????

This experience is a first for me, and I hope it is not the beginning of a trend.

The Songs We Cannot Sing Leads Me to this Idea I Cannot Shake

"And Jesus listening can hear the songs I cannot sing." Elder Holland used this line in his April 2017 conference talk, and I have not been able to shake the following thoughts ever since then.

D&C 25:12 says, "For my soul delighteth in the song of the heart; yea, the song of the righteous is a prayer unto me, and it shall be answered with a blessing upon their heads." My previous understanding of this scripture has led me to sing hymns in a way that made them my own sincere prayers. I think that understanding is still important, but the line "And Jesus listening can hear The songs I cannot sing" in combination with that scripture has brought a new idea and understanding to me: Jesus listening can hear the prayers I cannot say.

Elder Holland, in that same talk, says, "Among the realities we face as children of God living in a fallen world is that some days are difficult, days when our faith and fortitude are tested. These challenges may come from a lack in us, a lack in others, or just a lack in life, but whatever the reasons, we find that they can rob us of songs we so much want to sing."

Sometimes life becomes so hard that I can only find the words for my prayers in a song, and when life is that hard I find that I truly cannot sing that song. My voice will break under the weight of all that I feel. In the very literal sense, those become songs that I cannot sing. At other times I find that my mind and heart will be so overwhelmed and cluttered that I can find no words, mine or otherwise, beyond, "Help me, please." And Jesus listening can hear the songs I cannot sing--the prayers I cannot say.

Abide with Me!

Abide with Me! fast falls the eventide;

The darkness deepens. Lord, with me abide!

When other helpers fail and comforts flee,

Help of the helpless, oh abide with me!

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day.

Earth's joys grow dim; its glories pass away.

Change and decay in all around I see;

O thou who changest not, abide with me!

I need thy presence ev'ry passing hour.

What but thy grace can foil the tempter's pow'r?

Who, like thyself, my guide and stay can be?

Thru cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me!

The above song is one that I cannot always sing. Occasionally it is just a line or two that says what I cannot say, sometimes more. Jesus listening can hear the song I cannot sing, and He answers, "with a blessing upon their heads." In one instance he answered this prayer in the form of another song:

Be Still

Be still and know that I'm with you

Be still and know that I am here

Be still and know that I'm with you

Be still, be still, and know.

When darkness comes upon you

And colors you with fear and shame

Be still and know that I'm with you

And I will say your name.

If terror falls upon your bed

And sleep no longer comes

Remember all the words I said

Be still, be still, and know.

When you go through the valley

And the shadow comes down from the hill

If morning never comes to be

Be still, be still, be still.

If you forget the way to go

And lose where you came from

If no one is standing beside you

Be still and know I am.

Be still and know that I'm with you

Be still and know I am.

I know that Jesus listening can hear the songs we cannot sing. I know because He has answered those songs with blessings upon my head. Whether it be with another song, the sealer at someone else's sealing, a line that stands out in a scripture or a talk, or a simple well-timed text from a friend--Jesus listening has heard the prayers I cannot say. Even when I could say nothing more than "Help!" He has answered. He understands us perfectly and is therefore capable of hearing what we cannot find the words to express. Though the darkness deepens, The Lord with us Abides.

• Elder Holland's Talk is titled Songs Sung and Unsung and can be found in the May 2017 issue of the Ensign Magazine
• "Jesus listening can hear The song I cannot sing" is a line from There is Sunshine in My Soul Today, Hymn number 227 in the LDS Hymnbook
• Abide with Me! is Hymn number 166 of the LDS Hymnbook
• Be Still is a song by the Fray, I found the lyrics on Google Play Music

Poisonous Bird

First Graders, they are generally adorable. Whether they are mixing the words "hand" and "sanitizer" (unintentionally) and saying "hanitizer," or they are roping me into a rousing (for me) game of Duck Duck Goose, or even telling me that they were gone the last Friday because they were at a funeral (I was concerned until...) where they had a blast in the primary room. Perhaps, though, my favorite part of this last week of school was when they found the giant moth pictured above. 

I was playing that game of Duck Duck Goose (where I was the goose almost every other turn) when three different kids came and told me three different tales. The first was the tale of a monster that fell from the roof causing all of the kids to scream. The second was, "Mrs. S! There's a poisonous bird over there!" The third was, "You have to come see the giant butterfly." The truth was some weird combination. The moth was innocently on the building when a kid knocked it down with a ball. It fell to the ground. As it tried to fly it appeared to be having a seizure (so observed yet another child) and kids were shouting about it being poisonous. Meanwhile the poor thing was being poked and prodded with sticks and fingers. When I went over there I made the mistake of asking, "Could someone gently pick up the moth and put it somewhere safe?" (Mistake highlighted for emphasis.) Immediately several shouts of "I can!" were heard while the moth was miraculously not squished by the many hands fighting to be the someone that I spoke of. Fortunately, after many shouts of, "GENTLY!" from me (which of course made me think of Princess Bride), the moth took off from someone's hand and slowly struggled through the air across the playground and to the other side of the street. We were all able to watch because it was big like unto a bird and colorful like unto a butterfly. That is the tale of the Monster Poisonous Bird Butterfly Moth.

The last day of school, the majority of the children abandoned their adorableness in favor of becoming monsters themselves. They pretty much decided that because the classroom was bare it meant the rules were not in place. When I entered the classroom Mrs. Olsen was with some of the students meeting their second grade teachers, but there were some kids in our classroom that had already met their teachers. They were running around and yelling. They had treats from their future teachers that they were not supposed to eat, but one boy came and said. "Mrs. Olsen told us not to eat these, but she isn't our teacher anymore so I don't have to listen!" I told him that Mrs. Olsen was definitely still his teacher for the day, and even if she wasn't she is a teacher and should be respected. He disagreed and continued to reign down chaos and lead the rebellion. Mrs. Olsen came back right about then, and I would like to think my speech about showing all teachers respect made the difference, but in all likelihood it is just easier to rebel against a teacher that is out of the room. Sadly (or maybe it is a good thing that will help me hold on to the memories of their adorableness) the rest of my time at school was spent without the children. 

Thus ends my 2016-2017 school year in First Grade.

BEWARE of Little Brother

Dan and I enjoying the Christensen Reunion

Once Upon a Time (I had to start that way because this is as grim as any of Grimm's Fairy Tales) there was an older sister that went and spent her Spring Break with what family was available to her. Among those family members was her youngest brother, Dan. He is smart, full of stories, and completely dangerous to innocent older sisters.

For example, one evening I was feeling the need of a snack. So I looked in the pantry and discovered that the Good Morenings waffle cereal was almost gone. Since Dan was also in search of a snack, I went downstairs to get a new box. When I arrived back upstairs with my fresh box of cereal, Dan came out of nowhere and snatched it out of my hand. I thought to myself, "Huh, he must not have known about the other box." So I pull out my bowl, my spoon and get the old box out of the pantry. I open the box and am about to pour when *poof!* that box is snatched out of my hand as well... Watch out for that smart boy that looks all sweet and innocent, he may snatch 2 boxes of cereal right out of your hand!

Dan with Chewy, or rather, Chewy on Dan

Finally, as Chewy and I are about to depart from Payson Dan informs me, "You need to visit every Saturday from now on." Obviously I am flattered because he clearly wants to spend time with me. Then he goes on, "You need to come every Saturday to buy dog food because Chewy is staying here with me." Warm fuzzy feeling is gone. Not only did he have designs to steal my dog, but he also wants me to drive up every single week to buy food for that dog...

You have been warned. If you are ever in the presence of that little brother, beware! He may have designs on your cereal and your pets!

Girl Vs. Dog

Despite the title, I usually get along with my dog quite well, but there is one thing that always seems to set us at odds. This event occurs when I am trying to be a good and kind dog owner and recognize that my furry pal should have some exercise, and probably needs it more than I do since he has twice as many legs. So, like the kind friend to my dog that I try to be, I take him to the park. I look around to make sure that we are pretty lonely. I take him off his leash. That is when the battle starts.

I throw him a ball, and like the excited dog that he is, he runs to get it! The problem is, he does not always stop and come back. Occasionally he just keeps on running (trying to achieve his dream of being a bloodhound, I am sure). I whistle, I yell, I beg, I nearly cry and still I am faced with his tail getting smaller in the distance. What now? I have tried using my voice. (I know he can hear me, I test his hearing at home with whispers...) So what else is there but to go after him? I have discovered that when I chase him something in his doggy brain says, "Look at this! A new game! We are going this way and she is running too! She's calling my name? What fun!" Today I tried something new, today I thought, "Maybe if I throw the ball and start running the other way..." Nope.

Girl tries to do right by dog. Dog innocently starts war. Dog wins. Dog is completely oblivious to the whole battle. Girl comforts herself with the fact that the dog must love her a bit, because he at least always comes home with her...even if he doesn't always come when he is called. The end.

Off With His Head!

I do not know much about the Juvenile Court System, but I believe I witnessed first hand while on Lunch Duty why we reserve the "jury of our peers" for adults. Imagine a school playground. It is a nice, sunny day, with a light breeze carrying the sound of loud voices and laughter. The 5th grade is outside playing. On the baseball diamond there is a game of baseball going on with plastic bats and balls, surprisingly well organized. On the playground there are kids running, climbing, swinging and sliding. There are boys playing on the basketball court. There is a group of girls practicing their gymnastics. As I look around some of the shouts become more clear, "Red head!" As I locate the shout I see a girl with red hair chasing around a boy. Eventually there is a whole group of kids chasing each other, some shouting about red hair, others shouting things like, "Why did you get everyone to call her that?!" As I think about whether or not to intervene I see one of the girls run up to a different boy and say, "Whatever you do, don't say 'red head' or 'ginger' around Ashley!" Which of course means that he promptly looks over and yells, "Ginger!" and the chasing starts all over again.

As I watched this play out, I realized that this is how 5th graders socialize. I remember many similar situations on the playground when I was younger. For whatever reason, that seems to be part of our learning process on how to gain the attention of others. 

Fast forward a bit and they are lining up to go inside. I notice that one of the classes seems to be having a hard time and that one of they boys in that class is standing about 10 feet away from the line. Part of the class is yelling at him to line up so that they can go inside, the other part of the class is yelling things like, "Just leave him alone!" (Merciful, right?) They continue, "If he doesn't line up he doesn't deserve to eat, but we don't have to worry about it." (Nope, not merciful.) Then the first half starts yelling, "He needs to line up or go to skills!" The second half responds, "Just leave him, he can stay outside and not eat." By the time we get inside the kid is refusing to go into the lunch room, "I don't deserve lunch apparently, since I didn't line up I don't deserve to eat!" 

As I watched them all eat and tried to pretend that I wasn't starving, I thought about how we learn to behave socially. I thought about how it is such a long and awkward process since we start out fighting for attention in somewhat rude and inconsiderate ways. How even mercy is something that we have to learn, and if not mercy, at least finding a consequence that fits the crime. I thought about how good it is that in those situations teachers get to choose the consequence and not a jury of their peers, because apparently staying 10 feet back from the line is a crime punishable by skills without lunch. Finally I thought, "I am so glad I am not in that phase anymore!"



Note: I really have no idea what the name of the red headed girl is!

Pioneers Wearing Jeans

Please excuse my "cold brain" (different than a brain freeze) as I try to tell you my thoughts about how we can be pioneers wearing jeans...

I have always enjoyed the stories that illustrate gospel points, but are ultimately fiction. Growing up, my favorite was the story about someone looking back on his journey, like he could see his life as footprints in the sand. As he looked he noticed that there were often two sets of footprints as Jesus was walking with him. He then noticed stretches where there was only one set, and he recognized those stretches as some of the hardest times in his life. Initially he was upset that Jesus would leave him alone at those times. He was gently told, or maybe reminded, that there was only one set of footprints because Jesus was carrying him through those times, not because he had been abandoned.

I realized that this is something that we can all be prone to doing at times, thinking we were alone when we were actually being helped along our path. On Sunday we talked about the pioneers and their great faith. I was remembering another story I had heard (this time a real one) about a pioneer pulling his handcart. I believe that he kept telling himself that if he could just make it to the next boulder, or up the next hill that would be enough. He continually made his goals, but unlike the guy looking at one set of footprints in the sand, the pioneer immediately recognized that he had received help. He was sure angels had been behind his handcart pushing him along while he pulled. Sometimes I have days that are emotionally like that pioneer's where I tell myself, "If I can just make it through this next half hour, that will be enough" or "if I can just make it until I finish this task, that will be enough." I think we often end up handling more than we think we can, like that pioneer, I hope we immediately recognize the help that heaven sends us, pushing us along when we think we can go no farther. I am sure, despite the help of the angels, the pioneer finished that trek with much more strength than he started with. I think as we keep going and keep telling ourselves "I will at least make it this far" that we will find ourselves blessed with heavenly pushes and stronger muscles. Perhaps this is what enduring to the end truly looks like--setting small goals and continually stretching for them until we reach the end.

Dear Santa

I realize that I am a little late on the draw here, but this was my letter to Santa this year! (Yes, I am 26 and still faithfully write him every Christmas Eve.) Lest you wonder, I did have a good Christmas this year, though it was a very different experience for me. I had grown quite comfortable in the traditions I have been participating in for the last 20+ years, and though this past year was different, I did enjoy it! It also brought a new appreciation for magic into my life, which is what this letter talks about. Enjoy!

Dear Santa,

I know in years past our letters to you have gotten more and more snarky. Perhaps you will find this year to be a refreshing change from that (though I can't vouch for my sassy siblings...)

This year, Santa, I find myself in a house full of non-believers. I am sure you know this from your year of watching and making lists, and you probably double check the turbine engine so you don't crash as you get closer to this house each year, but somehow it still catches me off guard. Last night, at some ridiculous hour, someone asked what the plan for Christmas was and the answer was "sleeping in," and "Santa's not real, no need to rush." (Sorry Santa, I know that's unpleasant to hear.)

Anyway, I found that view super depressing and found myself singing Amy Grant's song, The Night Before Christmas, in my head: "You don't have to be a child to love the mystery...The heart of this Christmas is in you and me." Santa, this Christmas I am thankful for the magic, mystery, generosity, fun, excitement, and belief you have brought to my life. I am thankful to have spent the majority of my Christmases with believers of magic and mystery, those that keep the heart of Christmas with them.

If my gratitude for these believers isn't a good enough indicator, I should probably tell you that these people have been good this year. In fact, they are all living up to your example of generosity and kindness. I hope you have brought them good things...it's okay if you skipped out on the corvette and other such extravagant gifts though (sorry Dad and Connor). I should also tell you that even though the house I am in is full of non-believers, that they have been good this year too.

Thanks again Santa for everything you have done for this child. Merry Christmas! Travel safely with the reindeer. Tell my family hello for me!

Love,

Trisa