Kids Say (and do) the Darndest Things

My absence from blogging has been filled with 5 and 6 year olds and the fun things that they do and say. There are always more, and I wish I had recorded them all, but here are some that I can share with you!

On the first day of extended day kindergarten, one of my new all day kids said, "When I grown up I am going to be a police officer and arrest you for teaching kids!" When I asked how he thought he was going to get away with that he used the very simple logic, "I can arrest anyone I want!"

This poor girl, the first day that she did fluoride somehow missed the direction to spit her fluoride back into the cup when the minute was up. (SUU students help kids with this in the hall) She is generally quiet, so naturally when she walked up to me and started gesturing with her hands I told her to "use her words." I felt AWFUL 40 minutes later when she gestured from her mouth to the trash can and I had the awful realization that she still had fluoride. I promptly told her, "Yes! Spit it out!" and apologized. Later I had to laugh because that was pretty remarkable that someone of any age could maintain that fluoride for so long without spitting it or swallowing it! When I told her mom about it she had the grace to see the humor in it also.

Our playground has one of those big tic tac toe boards on it. One of the kids came and told me, "I am playing tic tac toe, I am the o and Olly is the tic!"

When I picked up my class from PE one of the boys said, "My hairs are hot!"

that 

The school counselor would come every other Friday and talk to the kids about skills that help us communicate better and to have friends. One day she asked the kids how much sleep they should be getting, my favorite answer was, "90-40-2!"

The speech therapist came to the extended day class and did some group lessons with them. When they were working on the /g/ sound she had them each tell her what their imaginary goat would eat. One of them said, "I feed my goats humans." When I looked at him in surprise he said, "What? He is a mean goat!"

I wish I remembered the context for this one, but part of what made me laugh about it is that it was one of my "tough guy" students. At some point this year I said something that caused him to respond with, "You're going to make me faint!"

One of my students made me completely question the decision to read them a story called Santa's Underwear because of how he answered a question. The story is about Santa looking for his favorite Christmas underwear so that he can go out and deliver presents without getting cold. At the end, there is a new pair hanging in his closet with a note from the reindeer saying that they had noticed the year before that he was badly in need of a new pair (it showed the old holy pair hanging on a clothesline). I asked them (poor decision on my part) how the reindeer knew Santa needed new underwear. Without missing a beat one of my students flipped around in his spot and said, "because they saw this!" and promptly mooned me. Surprisingly, and thankfully, I don't think that the class really picked up on what had happened.

On 100's Day we all dressed up like we were 100 years old and one of my students declared that "old people look like potatoes!"

When I asked the kids why they thought the ocean was salty my favorite answers were: 1) "People put a lot of salt in it" 2) "So the fish can breathe" and 3) "The salt comes off the fish."

One of my students, ever a peacemaker was playing with toys one day when someone knocked over their house. I watched with some concern as he turned to that kid, put his hands on either side of his face and said, "Don't break our house you silly goose!"

One morning when the kids were playing with toys I heard a bunch of them chatting together. One of the girls said, "I can even beat up 11 year olds." 

One of my sweet students struggles with the art of communicating. One day I was trying to explain to them that they are not allowed to hit someone when he came back with, "Teacher you don't love me!" I assured him that I did, but even though I love him I can't let him hit people. "No, you don't! You don't love me! You're mad at me!" Though I hope that one day he understands better, I also hope that he maintains his sensitivity. If I ever made a sound, even for a character in a story we were reading he would say, "Are you okay teacher?!" Bless his sweet soul.

Towards the end of school I was picking up my students from the computer lab, the computer teacher told them they could line up by me when they were finished. One of them jumped in line and said, "Teacher, I am done as a bun!"

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

A Gentleman at Age 6

At school every day two of us call kids out one at a time to read with us in the hallway. Recently we got a new student which meant that we now only have 3 chairs for the hallway. Problem? Not really, I spend much of my time at school sitting on the floor, and so easily took the roll of floor-sitter. The kids all loved being able to sit on a chair and be taller than me for a few minutes that day; with the exception of one boy. He came out like all the rest and sat right down on that chair. Before I even handed him his reading folder he said, "Mrs. S, would you like to sit here?"
"No, that's alright, you can sit in the chair today."
Without another word, he got off the chair and came and sat on the floor by me. My heart melted. I am lucky to have met a six-year-old gentleman!

Childish? On Second Thought, Childlike

Me: "You're so smart!"

First Grader: "I know!"

Me: "Wow, you look so cute today!"

First Grader: "I look good every day!"

Kindergartener: "Mrs. S, guess what?"

Me: "What?"

Kindergartener: "I am the nicest girl in school!"

At first when I heard things like that I thought, "Typical childishness, I should giggle." And yet, their complete sincerity made sure that was never a reality. Instead it has led me to ponder on a difference between children and adults, and one reason why (I think) the Savior told us to be as little children. The difference is illustrated in the examples above. Children seem to be naturally aware of their talents and abilities and can declare them to the world with sincerity and humility. Contrast this with many adults (myself included): 

Adult 1: "You're so smart!"

Adult 2: (With sarcasm) "I know!" 

     OR

Adult 2: (Voice oozing the obviousness of the compliment) "I know." 

     OR

Adult 2: "Not really."/ "You're too sweet." / "If only I was as smart as you." / Changes Subject / etc.

Somewhere in our lives we seem to get confused and start to think that accepting or acknowledging that we have any talents and abilities is prideful and should not be done; or we decide that indeed, we have those talents and abilities, and that puts us on a pedestal far above the rest; or we think we don't have any skills to acknowledge.

I think that, perhaps, when Jesus told us to be as little children, this is one of the things that He meant. He meant that we can humbly and sincerely acknowledge the talents and gifts that we have--we can acknowledge these things without setting ourselves (in our own minds) on the highest of pedestals, and we can acknowledge that He has given each of us (ourselves included) gifts and talents to use on this earth. In fact, Jesus himself is the perfect example of this. There are many instances in the scriptures when Jesus testifies that He himself is the Savior of the World. There is no gift or talent or duty greater than that, and yet He was able to testify with sincerity and humility that He was indeed that person, THE son of God and Savior of the world. Never once did He declare that with sarcasm, with pride, or with a, "Stop it, it's no problem, you hardly need any saving." Instead, as children instinctively do, He stated with confidence, "I am the light and life of the world." 

My hope, for myself and each of you, is that we can give that some thought and learn to thankfully acknowledge the gifts and talents that we have been given. That if we receive compliments we can confidently accept them. That in an interview or on a resume we can humbly, but with complete sincerity, acknowledge the skills that we have been given and acquired. Each of us, as children of a Heavenly Father, has gifts and talents. May we learn to be like the Savior and like children so that we can be a happier more confident people!

Kettle Cheese, Fluffy Ducks, and Angry Alligators

I am lucky (or fluffy) to be working in first grade! 

You may ask, "Why fluffy?!"

I am so glad you asked! One of the super cute kids in that class misheard the teacher when she said she was choosing some "lucky ducks" to work with me during math. When his name was called he said, "Yeah! I get to be a fluffy duck!" I enjoyed it so much that I continued to call the kids working with me "fluffy ducks."

Another day they were learning the "le" sound. She gave them the word "kettle" and asked if anyone knew what it meant. Hands were raised and waving. When she called on a boy, he said, "Ummm, I believe it is a kind of cheese." I would have understood if he had said "a kind of popcorn," but I am just not sure where he has heard of kettle cheese.

Lastly, first graders are at an age where they want to be grown up, but are still more than willing to throw a fit when they are upset about something. Not that long ago there was a day when it came to recess time that there were some that had to stay back and finish their math. There was a handful of girls and a boy. The boy happened to finish first and as he was leaving he said, "See you later alligators!" 

One girl was super upset, "Did you hear that Mrs. S? He called us alligators! I can't believe he did that!" 

I told her, "When someone says 'See you later alligator' you say 'In a while Crocodile!' and then they leave!" 

This completely turned her mood around, for whatever reason we had round two of him leaving, but this time she said (with great excitement), "In a while alligator!" Proof that they are learning!

Two Masters and the Mildew Mystery

Which master do you serve? For the longest time I thought that there was some tally chart somewhere keeping track of which master (God or mammon) that I have served overall. Being a perfectionist, and also aware of my imperfection, that always freaked me out a little bit. I was sure that when the scriptures say that a person can't serve 2 masters that I was coming out way too much on the mammon side. Not because I was TRYING, but because I am human and therefore make a lot of mistakes. At some point the Lord decided to take pity on me, and when I read the scripture again, "You cannot serve two masters..." the Lord supplied the thought, "in any given moment." It seems like such a basic thought, and yet it relieved all of my fears about that tally chart and instead allowed me to focus on my agency. I can't serve two masters AT A TIME, but I do get to choose which master I serve with every choice that I make. I may not always make the right choice, but I can make the correct choice in my next decision! So if any of you are nervous about which master you serve, just remember that we can choose each moment who our master is.

So now you know why "Two Masters" is in the title, now onto mildew! We have lived in Cedar City for 3 months now, and in that time we had not gone to the temple. So our temple bags sat in the trunk of my car until this past Thursday. We made an adventure out of the evening. We went to dinner at Texas Roadhouse and ate WAY too much food. Then we made our way to the temple to do sealings. As I pulled out my slip I thought, "This is kind of wet" then decided I was crazy and it was just cold. After I pulled out my dress I realized that my slip very likely WAS wet because my dress, and everything else in my bag smelled strongly of mildew. I changed anyway and met my friend who smelled the mildew, it struck me then that Trav's clothes probably stank too because they were sitting right with mine in the trunk of my car. I asked him as soon as we found him...Of all the weird things, his clothes are stink free! I do not think I have ever been so distracted in the temple! I had the compulsion to apologize to everyone that rode in the elevator with us. I also felt like I needed to walk really slowly to minimize any movement of air I might be making. With every inhale I was reminded of my stench. Trav, of course, thought it was hilarious and kept on pinching his nose when no one was looking, further adding to my paranoia. Needless to say, I was relieved to change back into my other clothes.

After we left the temple we went to Trav's brother and sister in law, and it cracked me up when she was worried about her smell when I hugged her. She smelled fine, but even if she hadn't, everything smelled fresh to me after that mildew! When we got home I investigated my trunk, which was dry, but does smell like mildew. The mystery is...why!? How did my clothes get wet? How did Trav's stay dry? Why does the blanket in there not smell like mildew either? I don't know if I will ever figure that out, but unless/until we do, I think my clothes won't be spending any more quality time in my trunk!

Unsung Heroes

During the Fuller Family Reunion in July, we were asked who our heroes from the scriptures/church history are. I did not answer at the time, but not because I did not know the answer. This blog is my answer to the question, complete with the why.

My family took a vacation to Nauvoo the summer that I graduated High School. On this trip we got to see many church history things, including Carthage Jail. I believe that it was outside of the jail that there was a statue of Joseph and Hyrum Smith. We often think of all of the things that Joseph Smith went through (he was my brother Jake's age when he had his first vision!), but in those last moments, and I am sure in the hours, days, weeks, months, and years between; by his side was Hyrum. I wondered then, if I, as an older sibling, would be as supportive of a younger sibling--if I would stand by them at the risk of my life, if I would believe the words of one of them enough to pray to the Lord for answers myself, even if I would be content to be a runner-up of sorts to a younger sibling. I came to the conclusion that Hyrum is the ultimate older sibling. That if there is anyone that I should aspire to be like in my family life, it was him.

Fast forward a while and I was reading in First Nephi, and I discovered that Sam is much like Hyrum. The older brother to the prophet Nephi, having a front row seat to all of Nephi's weird habits and mistakes, but always having faith in the Lord and supporting his brother the Prophet.We hear very little of Sam, but we know that he is never lumped with Laman and Lemuel, we know that he was beaten with Nephi by those same older brothers, we know that his posterity were numbered among the people of Nephi.

Perhaps it is silly of me, but I have taken my role as oldest sibling seriously for many years. I am aware that children watch everything, and learn from what they see. I am inspired by Hyrum, Sam and others like them that were good examples to their younger siblings, and eventually their greatest earthly support as their siblings took on big roles in the Kingdom of God on earth. I hope that I can be like them--a strong support to my own incredible siblings and an example to them as they prepare for their roles in the Kingdom.

Sunshine and Lawn Chairs

This post is dedicated to my husband, who knows that sunshine and lawn chairs are important to me.

Curious?

Something about being in the sunshine lifts my mood and makes me feel like a day has not been wasted. So I try to spend some time every day in the sunshine--walking, sitting, reading, swinging, hiking, etc. In fact, if I do not spend this time in the sunshine (especially if I don't move around much in a day as well), I become a beast to live with.

My husband, being a smart guy, though not having much love of sunshine himself; decided to help me out. First step, we put a patch of grass in our back yard. Second step, he came home the other day and said he had a surprise for me. He made me hide while he set them up, then he covered my eyes and pulled me to the back yard (terrifying little journey). Before I could open my eyes he had me sit down (I don't have a picture of these lawn chairs, but they stand about 6 inches off the ground, if that much), so that was frightening. Upon opening my eyes,  I discovered that I was sitting on a comfy lawn chair that adjusts between sitting straight and laying down and is a pleasant blue color. Next to it was a matching chair, which means I can have a buddy in the sunshine too, and occasionally it might even be my awesome husband!

Now I have a nice chair to sit on, in the nice lawn we put in, in the fabulous sunshine, in the fresh fall air! I have been thoroughly enjoying it! Now when I come home from a walk with Chewy, we can go straight to the back yard and cool off in the nice breeze. I can read a book, and Chewy can squeak his toy, and we can both soak in that vitamin D (if dogs do that...)!

Commandments vs. Agency?

Lest I have worried some of you, let me put your minds at ease: I know that the commandments are not at all in opposition of agency. Yet, so much of the world seems to think that they are polar opposites. This has been something that I have been thinking about without really intending to think about it, but I have had thoughts on the subject pop into my head at random for weeks. You may ask, "what thoughts?" I will tell you, but I am going to leave you in suspense for a bit longer.

Before I tell you those thoughts there are a few things that you should know that may help to explain why this subject has been on the brain so much, whether or not I intended them to be. First is this: the gospel is ALL about families. We belong to the family of our Heavenly Parents, we are born into families here on earth, and eventually we create our own families so that we can return as families to our Heavenly parents. I have always known this, but lately it has struck me how important those families really are. I am so thankful for the family that I was born into, and I have been thinking that all of my decisions should be made based on how it may affect my own eternal family; I don't know if any other realization in my life has ever made so clear to me what my priorities should be. Second, all families have rules in place--earthly and heavenly. Third, as a student of education I have learned about setting rules in a classroom. Rules should support and help make possible what you want to accomplish in a classroom. For example, if my goal is to have a safe learning environment, I should set rules that are relevant to safety (physical and emotional) and to learning (what behaviors will help with this). Consequences are set in place to help children understand that these rules are important and for the protection of that safe learning environment.

Similarly, Heavenly Father gave us commandments (rules) to follow, following that same logic He must have been protecting His purpose. His purpose is to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of His children that choose that (He won't do it by force). By choosing to follow His plan in the premortal life, and through the resurrection of Jesus, we are now pretty much set on the immortality part; but we have to make choices every day that help us, or don't help us, achieve eternal life.

So what have my thoughts about commandments and rules been?

1. Parents (Earthly and Heavenly) set rules for protection.
2. There are natural consequences to every decision, and parents may put other consequences in place as well.
3. Keeping commandments protects our ability to keep making choices
4. Keeping commandments protects families, which in turn may be our greatest support in decision making.
5. When we choose to break the commandments we also choose to give up some of their protection. 
6. On a similar note, loss of that protection may feel like punishment, especially to those that do not understand thoughts 1-5.

As per my usual, this was probably way longer than it needed to be to get my thoughts across, so those of you who stuck it out get to be left with this: I know we are all a part of a Heavenly Family, with our Father in Heaven at its head. I know that our families on earth are so important to how we learn and grow in this life. I know that even though my own family is just myself and my husband that our family unit is important to Heavenly Father and being a member of this small family is my most important job on this earth. I know that Heavenly Father gave us commandments for our protection--I know that keeping these "rules" protect our ability to choose in the future and protect that all-important family unit. Because I know these things, I know that Heavenly Father loves each of us as much as a perfect Godly parent is capable of (which is way beyond my comprehension).

Finally, I will leave you with this bit of unrelated joy that I witnessed today--imagine an old man with a long white beard, he was wearing a reflective orange vest and riding a a tricycle around town. Now smile, because that image should leave no room for unhappiness!

Kayli, Kayli, Kayli

I told Kayli (because she said that I should write another post now), that I was going to write about her. She seems to think that is a lousy idea...

So, in the process of moving and going through all of my stuff I found a bunch of pictures; most of them don't have dates on them, but they range from Kindergarten to College. Though I know we all seem to think that we will remember everything with perfect clarity, that simply is not the case. I can't look at all of those pictures and tell you when each was taken. I can't look at all those pictures and remember the names of everyone in them, or even identify cousins that are much bigger now. I can't look at the pictures and identify the occasion or even remember stories that go along with them all. The only thing that I know for sure when I look at those pictures is this: I have a SUPER awesome family. Even not knowing what exactly is going on in the pictures and when, I still look at the pictures and see happiness. I see that all of us look happy to be together. We look like we are enjoying wherever we are and whatever we are doing. Even if I don't remember exactly what was going on for a specific picture, it does trigger happy memories, or thoughts of gratitude for my family.

For example, there were several pictures of me holding my new ornament (Christmas time tradition). I don't remember every ornament I got, or even every trip to choose one. I do remember singing "Love Story" by Taylor Swift on the way to get ornaments. I remember driving around and seeing the Christmas lights all over town. I remember choosing between ornaments. I remember being excited to see what everyone else chose.

I saw a picture of a picnic table at Payson Lakes, and a few aunts and uncles. I don't know if that was a family reunion. I don't know how old I was. I don't know who I hung out with. I do remember paddle boat rides on the lake. I remember sitting and reading Harry Potter with aunt Tonya. I remember feeding chipmunks chips. I remember that the scar I have on my leg was because I tripped over some bikes there once. I remember swimming. I remember sitting on the retaining wall and just letting my feet get wet.

I saw a picture of myself and my siblings throwing rocks. I don't remember what cabin trip this was. I do know that we made it a family tradition to go on a walk and we would stop and throw rocks at a certain pine tree (we gotta test our aim and distance). I remember other cabin trips where we worked on our fort at the side of the cabin (seriously, we had benches, we decorated with pretty rocks, there was a trail in, and a branch that served as the "door"). I remember four wheeler rides (some on the back, some where I got to drive). I remember camping in a tent where the basketball court was going to be someday. I remember playing games. I remember that I always chose the same mattress every time we went to the cabin. I remember placing that mattress under the skylight and looking out to what I could see.

I could go on and on about what memories the pictures surfaced, and many of them are probably not at all related to "that one time that picture was taken." I do know that almost all of them involve family and happiness. I could even tell that in a couple of them that Connor was pretending to be Gus from Psych, though I have no idea what quote had just been quoted.

The moral of the story is: Even though it can be super frustrating to not remember everything, it is nice to see evidence of years and years with a happy family, and it is nice to remember time spent with them (even if it isn't the "right" memory).

Part B of the moral of this story is: Keep up on your scrapbooking and you will probably not have to have those frustrating moments where you wonder what and where something was happening...

The second moral of the story is, that even though this post isn't all about Kayli, she is still in a lot of those pictures and memories, and that is great! She is great, and we will carry on in greatness (or lameness, depending on the day).

Love: Feeling vs. Acting

I have had a lot of time in the last week or so to reflect on love. My mom will probably write an awesome book someday about loving every day, we had a family reunion where there was some discussion about love and covenants, and then I came home and continued my reading of The Five Love Languages. It was during this reading that I came across an excellent concept--we are capable of feeling love, but also of acting with love; and they do not necessarily have to be happening at the same time.

This same idea was also presented in the book How to Hug a Porcupine, when the author talked about being kind and caring because that is who we are and not necessarily because the other person deserves it. In other words, acting with love, or making the decision to love for ourselves. I had read that months ago, but it took what I read today for it to really hit home that, "Hey! I can do something about this!" In The Five Love Languages he illustrated this point with the story of a woman that asked him if it was possible to love someone that you hate, or that hates you. Because she was a religious woman he went to the scriptures for help in answering her question and came across the scripture about loving our enemies, doing good to them that hate us, and blessing those that curse us. Luke 6:27-36 (There is a link the the scripture, it is not the King James Version, but the message is there). Anyway, it goes on to say that anyone can love those that love them, but how much greater are we if we can love those that hate us? To carry on, this woman said that she was willing to try, but struggled with the feeling that if she was acting how she did not feel that she was being hypocritical. Gary Chapman (author of The Five Languages), told her that he thought it would be hypocritical to claim to feel things that you do not; but to act with love and do something for someone else is a decision we make. He went on to say, "Certainly we do not have warm feelings for people that hate us. That would be abnormal, but we can do loving acts for them. That is simply a choice."

Though Jesus was perfect, and was therefore probably able to act and feel lovingly towards those that hated him, hurt him, and cursed him. I think that, perhaps, if we can focus on acting with love rather than feeling it that we will be fulfilling that commandment. There are days when I don't feel particularly loving in general, but I can still perform loving actions on those days. There are certainly people that I just don't mesh with or even like, but I can act with love towards them too. In The Happiness Project Gretchen talks about acting the way we want to feel, and many times she ended up feeling that way. Who knows? Maybe the secret to getting out of a grumpy funk is to act with love, and on a smaller scale "the best way to defeat your enemies is to make them your friends" (Loose Abraham Lincoln quote), maybe if we act with love towards those that make us crazy, we will feel a little less crazed. That would certainly make a lemony day more sweet!

A Chomping Bite of Nervousness

Hello World! (Actually, this has to be significantly less than the world since I haven't put this out there much)

Once upon a time I decided, "Hey, I should teach piano lessons." My supportive husband, mom, sister, etc. all chime in with, "you would be so great! So far, so good right? The thought is there, I live in a populated place (populated with what demographics I am not sure about yet), my family is supportive, I have been playing the piano since I was 6ish, I must have this right?

Well, over the last few days I have been putting real thought into it. I still want to do it, but man there is so much more to think about than I first thought. There is scheduling, how parents sign up, what times I should be available for lessons, do I write a monthly newsletter or a blog, what piano books would I prefer my students to use, how much should lessons cost, what policies do I set in place, is there a point where this is illegal without some form of business license, etc. Whew!

So, naturally, I go to the all-knowledgeable Google--where I find that teachers in other states find lessons in Utah to be ridiculously cheap, and think teachers should be highly trained and qualified (like college-level trained), that it would be a good idea to have a mentor piano teacher. There is endless debate on Alfred vs. Bastien vs. Faber piano books. There are ways to set up web payment/scheduling. Many of them were talking about interviewing potential students/parents.

My conclusions so far: Lessons in Utah may be super cheap, but as a new teacher and one that hasn't taken music to the college level, that is totally okay with me. I must confess that the thing about college training got to me a bit (maybe because it was said with such little respect for those that choose to teach without doing this), but I remembered that I knew someone who was teaching piano in High School, and that I have a degree in elementary education which is super applicable to teaching piano. As for a mentor piano teacher, I am sure my old piano teachers would be willing to speak to me. On the subject of books, well, I have fond memories of the Alfred Series, and if I do a good job, it shouldn't matter what books they use, especially as beginners. Finally, scheduling. My schedule is my own. I do not have to teach at a time that just doesn't work for me. (Though I do need students so I am trying to be realistic and reasonable.) The things that freaks me out the most, is the whole process of trying to get students. Most of my Cedar City friends/acquaintances don't have children to teach. So I am waiting to get accepted to the Facebook Cedar City selling Group. I am also waiting for my husband to get back from his trip to help me set up a Facebook Page. Eventually we will be able to attend church around here and will be able to start networking and stuff that way. (What do nonmembers do without a church setting to meet people?)

Thanks for chomping on Trisa's Nervous Thoughts! Tune in next time for nervous thoughts about.... Just kidding. This pretty much covered the nerves.

"Kill 'em! Kill 'em!"

What am I averaging, one blog a year? Man, it should be easy to meet an improvement goal on this one!

You may be wondering, "why on earth did she title her blog "kill 'em! kill 'em!"? The simple answer? That crazy song that talks about killing people with kindness just started running through my head and the "kill 'em kill 'em" part is just hilarious to me. Also, I wasn't sure if I was going to talk about my whirlwind moving experience the last few weeks, or why I chose to title my blog as a whole "The Lemonade Stand." Heck, I even thought about writing about how applicable my ponderize scripture really is to my life right now. So naturally, with all of these awesome options, I chose "Kill 'em! Kill 'em!" 

I guess in reality, the moving story and the reason I named this blog The Lemonade Stand go quite well together. For the last 2 1/2 or so years I have been living in a town far away from all the things and people that I know. Though it is a gorgeous place and I had man happy moments there, my overall happiness level went down. That was a super hard change for an introverted people watcher. Strangely enough, one of the skills I have most appreciated in myself is the ability to find humor in normal situations. Whether it is laughing at myself and what I did or said at work or other places, or laughing at others (rude, I know) because of my perception as an outsider looking in. Because of this skill, even the days where life gave me many lemons, I was able to make lemonade out of enough situations in my day that no day was totally lousy. I was then able to tell friends what I did or saw that day and spread the joy. I even recall someone telling me something like, "Trisa, I don't know if these things just happen only around or to you, or if you just look at the world differently." I guess I can't be certain of that either, but I think it is the latter. However, my time in little town, USA, seemed to diminish that skill. There was nothing funny about the lonely inside of my house (though occasionally Chewy and some squirrels would help with that), or the empty places I went walking. I didn't mess up words with people I talked to, because I rarely had people to talk to. I didn't see anyone riding a unicycle around a campus, or wearing anything that looked like a shower curtain. Eventually my husbands job came into question too (he worked at a gas plant), they were talking about closing it or selling it. So we put our house for sale. Nothing. Nibbles, but no bites. Eventually we decided we needed to decide if we should go without our house sold. So we went to the temple and prayed. Though I should not be surprised, much of the answer that I got was related to Heavenly Father wanting us to have joy. Despite all my efforts to be happy where I was, that was not the best place for me to seek out joy! So that weekend we came to Cedar City and looked at places to live, applied for them, and a week or so later got one. Within the next week we had packed up and gone. Gone back to clean up. And are now here and almost done unpacking. "Men are that they might have joy." I know Heavenly Father has been helping us with the process. Though it seems like many things have gone wrong, whenever a door has closed another better one has opened. He really does want us to have joy, and I am hoping that my skill of finding the humor in the ordinary will begin to return!

The moral of this blog post is: Kill 'em with kindness, and go where you can share the most "life-lemonades." (For example, I almost wrote most with a lisp, why? I don't know.) 

Have a motht excellent day!