Kindred Spirits

I once read that books are the life-blood of a room, the soul of a home. There are books in every single room of my house. My husband will tell you there are too many; I will forever claim that there aren’t enough.

Most of my books are tucked away in the guest bedroom in our basement. Sometimes, when I am stressed or sad, I will go to this room and run my fingers along the spines of my treasured tomes, and suddenly I am not alone.

A week or so ago, an author friend of mine posed a question on facebook that gave me warm fuzzies: “Who were your best friends from the books you read growing up?”

I felt like I needed to run down the stairs to my bookcases so I didn’t forget anybody. The names came to me quickly: Ella of Frell. Molly McIntire. Ramona. And Beezus. Mostly Beezus, because I was Beezus. Laura Ingalls Wilder. Jo March. Anne Shirley. Naya Nuki. Fern Arable. California Lucy Whipple. Anne Frank. Caddie Woodlawn. Wendy Darling. Amelia Bedelia. Christy Huddleston. Wanda Petronski. Stargirl. Hermione Granger. Susan and Lucy Pevense. Nancy Drew. Matilda. Elizabeth, the Paper Bag Princess. Madeline, who lived in a house all covered in vines. Sarah, plain and tall. Jessie and Violet, who lived in a Boxcar. Molly, who was a pilgrim. And so, so many others.

These are the girls and women who shaped my childhood and adolescence. Although I have always been blessed with good friends, I was never one who could be deemed “popular.” Most of the time, my living-and-breathing best friends have earned that title with me because they also have a love of books.

You could call them kindred spirits.

There is a shelf, down in my guest room, which holds these friends of mine, stuffed close together and covered in dust. Occasionally, I still need one or two of them, and they are always there when I need them, for a paragraph or a page or simply to stick in my purse so I’m not alone when I’m out and about. My needs are not as frequent as they were, and most of the time I focus on making new friends.

But I have a daughter. And although her dearest friends right now are Cinderella and Pinkalicious and Fancy Nancy Clancy, I know someday she will need to meet Ramona, and Laura, and Fern. She will learn that everyone has bad days and good ideas, that sometimes she will have to do hard things, and sometimes she might be the only person who could save Some Pig. She will teach school in Cutter Gap and write stories in the Annex and deal with her own Ms. Trunchbulls. She might turn down stuck-up princes and she might stand up for her own Prince Char. She will pass through the Wardrobe, fly to Neverland, and ride the Hogwarts Express.

Parents don’t usually get to choose friends for their children, but if ever my daughter finds herself alone in the world, I find peace in knowing that somewhere in my basement, I have a shelf of adventures, escapes, and friends waiting for her. 

An Eye-Opening

My daughter said the prayer over dinner tonight. My siblings would be proud of her two-sentence prayer, not because of the substance, but because of the length. My family often groans when my Dad calls on me to say the prayer. I'm kind of long winded. Once I was even told that if the phone rang while I was saying our family prayer on Christmas Eve, I needed to say "Amen" and just be done. The comment was meant to be a joke, but about a minute into my prayer, the phone did ring and I did say "Amen" as quickly as I could. Even my husband rarely calls on me to pray--he claims it is because he knows I say every prayer during the day, but a few months ago I confronted him and as he blushed, he admitted, he rarely asks me because I tend to go on and on. "You say great prayers!" he tried to recover. "I just am really tired at night!"

Apparently my daughter takes after him.

That's okay with me.

Those that know me know I am a by-the-book person, not just because I love books but because I can't bear to break rules. When I was in the fourth grade, I overheard my teacher tell my mother she was afraid I would give myself an ulcer because I took life so seriously.

I'm learning, however, that living with that kind of personality doesn't mesh so well in my current line of work, because three-year-olds make their own rules and little boys are going to jump on the couch even when you tell them not to. Showering every day, which was once a main staple of my hygienic routine, is now merely a suggestion. Shaving my legs weekly? Putting makeup on when going out in public? Wearing a bra to take out the trash? Eating fruits and veggies with every meal? Vacuuming weekly?

Socially acceptable hygiene practices are considered guidelines anyway, right?

I want to tell you about a friend of mine who has been on my mind for the past several days. She and I are made from completely different molds, except that we happen to be the same race and gender and grew up with the same religion. We shared a dorm room with four other girls for 19 days in August 2008. Those days were stressful. We were going from college co-ed lifestyle of jeans and textbooks and dating to a celibate, skirt-clad, white-handbook ruled life for the next year and a half and it was a difficult transition.

We all embraced missionary life in our different ways. I took the "Nun" approach--I did my very best to follow the rules to a "t" and I expected every one around me to do the same. My friend? Well, she was more of a "Maria" (you know, like from the Sound of Music). She and I had the same purpose--but whereas I was trying to leave absolutely everything behind, she was trying to figure out how to be a missionary, but not lose sight of herself. Each of us thought we were taking the correct approach, and we stepped on each other's toes and hurt each other's feelings. The difference being, I hate confrontation and avoid it at all costs (not an effective form of open communication) and she wasn't afraid of asking the hard questions and having the hard conversations (she is very effective at communicating).

How do you solve a problem like Maria?

The thing is, she wasn't a problem. Not in the least. She is an amazing person, and she has taught me more than she will ever know. Oh, how she humbled me those days in the MTC. I remember the aftermath of a particularly hard confrontation accusation conversation--how I got on my knees and I realized she was right and I was wrong and I had to own up to that and apologize. Admitting my mistake was the hardest thing my mission had asked of me to that point--but also exactly the lesson I needed. I remember getting off my knees, walking over to her bunk, and kneeling down next to her and waiting for her to finish praying, then asking for forgiveness and admitting that I really needed to take a chill pill. It was a lesson I learned over and over again for the next two years as I tried to merge Marinda the Person with Marinda the Missionary.

I remember one night as we were gathering with some of the other girls in our assigned group having a nightly prayer. It was supposed to be a bonding ritual. During the preparation for this prayer, this particular Sister Friend of mine admitted that she pretty much never closed her eyes during prayers.

My first thought? SINNER! Isn't that like the first thing you learn as a child? When you pray, you bow your head, close your eyes, and fold your arms or you aren't doing it right?

"I can concentrate better on the prayer with my eyes open," was her explanation.

Fast forward six or so months. I was teaching my investigator--the one I'm convinced I was sent to Texas for--and he asked me, "Why do you Mormons pray with your arms folded? Can't you pray with just your hands clasped or something?"

I laughed and explained that folding arms was probably more of a way to keep children reverent than a requirement for prayer.

Light bulb.

A couple of weeks later, this same investigator joked with me about how you can tell kids who are Mormon: when their schoolteacher asks them to line up in the hall, they always fold their arms.

Fast forward five years, to my dinner table, covered in "Germmy" (German) Pancakes and Bacon because we've already had pasta for dinner three nights this week. My daughter volunteers to say the prayer, because dinner is the one prayer she will consent to say each day, and she tells us she is going to do it herself.

And after she begins, I quickly open my eyes. I glance from my son, who is "folding" his arms by pressing the backs of his hands together, and my daughter, who is staring and her plate and thanking Heavenly Father for "the food and everything we did today" and saying "Amen!" Her arms are barely folded, her head isn't bowed, and to my knowledge, she has yet to close her eyes during a prayer.

I don't bother to correct her, because I don't think there is ever an incorrect way to say a prayer (Rameumption aside). I don't even care that she uses the same lines during each prayer, because it is hard enough to get her to pray and in my opinion, if a child is praying, he or she probably has a more direct channel to Heavenly Father than any adult, except maybe the prophet.

Merging Marinda the Person with Marinda the Mommy has been difficult at times. I am still learning that rules can, and sometimes need, to be bent. I am still learning what Mother Teresa taught so many years ago: "When you judge people, you have no time to love them." Sometimes I get so busy trying to figure my children out that I forget that by loving them, they will be the ones to show me their true selves. Sometimes playing paper dolls is more important than doing dishes. Sometimes reading the "Goodnight Football" book for a sixth time in three hours means that my son isn't so much learning the game of football as the fact that his mother loves him and will make time for him. Sometimes the things I think I'm sacrificing--careers, showers, half a Starburst that the toddler pulls out of my mouth--aren't sacrifices at all.

As Daniel Tiger says, "Look a little closer and you'll find out what you wanna know."
You sang that. I know you did. Don't lie.

My MTC friend taught me to look closer at people, especially those different from me. My first reaction may be to think that they are in the wrong, but let me tell you, 99.5% of the time, I'm the SINNER! who needs a reality check.

She is now living a very different life from mine. She's building playgrounds in Africa and empowering women (she helps women in Ghana run this awesome custom-made dresses business)and discovering herself and  and I am using playgrounds and empowering children and discovering myself.

It turns out that even though our lives have changed and our roads are varied, we still have the same purpose: to love people and not judge them.

Remember how we just talked about not judging? 

A Mom of "Just" Two

Almost two and a half years ago, I wrote a post entitled "A Mom of Just One." A few days after I published it, a dear, sweet friend chastised me a little and suggested I take out the "just" in the heading. "Mothering is hard with one and it's hard with more, " she wrote. "Don't discredit yourself. You're not a mom of "just one", you're a mom. And you're fabulous." 

Folks, this is the kind of constructive criticism that works. I don't think she knows how often I have come back to her words to comfort myself when the rocky paths of motherhood trip me up and my soul is covered in road rash. 

No, I didn't take "Just" out of the heading then. I left it as a reminder of a day when I just felt down and I had forgotten my purpose. I can't tell you how many times in the past two and a half years I have had to revise conversations with myself in my head...if I can just get through today...if I can get through today...if I can just be a little better...if I can be a little better...if I can just be a little more patient...if I can be a little more patient...

Here is what I've learned: just is one of those words that distances us not only from our true selves, but from God's plan for us. 

Oh, how this lesson hurts me sometimes.

When you include the word "just," it is almost like placing a deadline on your efforts. When you eliminate that word, there leaves a lot of wiggle room--and I like to think that is what God would like mothers like me to give ourselves.

I'm going to be a little raw and a lot real here, because I have some words and thoughts and feelings and emotions in me that I really need to barf into cyberspace.

Today Sly learned to say the word "baby." We were looking at a book I made for him for his first Christmas, and as soon as I opened to the first page, he pointed to a picture taken on his first day of life and said, clear as a bell, "baby!"

I hadn't coached him. We haven't really talked babies with him. This really is no great coincidence, as his sister totes around babies all day long, but it still took me by surprise, and instantly I was transported back to when his sister was that age and Scott and I were discussing family planning and after a frustrating day, I told him we couldn't even think about another pregnancy until she could pass three milestones: 1. Walk on her own; 2. Sleep through the night; and 3. Say the word "baby." 

For the first two years of her life, Kevin was a little behind developmentally. We knew this was because of her premature birth, and we didn't notice it very often, but now that we've had more than a year with a full-term baby, I can see the areas where she struggled because of those lost eight weeks in the womb. She walked at about the same age, but sleeping was and continues to be much more of a struggle with her than it ever has been for Sly. And talking? She said enough words for us to not worry, but she didn't communicate clearly until just after she turned two (and, quite frankly, she hasn't shut up since). 

So I didn't worry about her hitting the milestones too fast, because I knew by the time she did our family would be ready. 

It's been different this time around. After Sly was born, I was so deep into depression and health issues that Scott and I both knew that giving ourselves some extra space before we attempted a third (and possibly, probably last) pregnancy was going to be not only helpful, but necessary. What we didn't anticipate, however, was the strong stirrings of baby hunger that started this past fall. Every time we go to change our plan, we remember just how difficult and different the last two pregnancies have been and we pray about it and we know that, once again, the timing isn't right...yet.

That doesn't make it any easier when Kevin asks me almost daily when we can get another baby from the "hospidal" and talks about a sister as if she was a real person and informed me last week that there was a baby in my tummy (when I could clearly tell that there was not).

Or when nearly every one of my friends that was pregnant when I was pregnant with Sly is announcing a pregnancy.

A few weeks ago, Scott and I were talking about this baby subject (it comes up a lot), and he turned to me and said, "I bet if your health were different, we'd be close to having three kids by now."

Here's the thing that confuses me though: my kids drive me nuts. Why would I want more? 

Why, on days when I've had to sneak down to the basement twice for a handful of chocolate chips and my son has colored on the walls and my daughter can't stop the floors from jumping out and tripping her, do I tell myself I actually want another child?

Scott brought home a pizza for lunch at 11:30 am (yup, that kind of a day) and we were talking about our newest nephew (we've gotten two in the last 30 hours!) and I said to him, "I'm sorry we aren't at number five." What I really meant was: I'm sorry we will probably never even get to number five."

And he looked at me with that handsome smile of his, pulled me close so that my cheek was resting on his worn gray fleece jacket, and said with absolute certainty something along the lines of, "Sweetheart, I'm just fine with that."

So, all day I've been telling myself that I'm fine being a mother of just two. 

And then, thanks to Savanah, I remind myself that I'm not just a mother of just two...I AM a mother of two children. And motherhood is hard with one, with two, with five or with six, If you ask any woman who has struggled or is struggling with infertility, she will tell you that motherhood is hard  even when you are just trying to have children. 

During this past conference, Elder Jeffrey R. Holland spoke of the verbs of motherhood: to bear, lift, carry, deliver...and how the roles mothers play in our earthly lives are similar to the role Christ plays in our eternal life. The talk was beautiful--almost too beautiful, and I thought, "surely a sinner like me doesn't deserve those songs of praise!" 

But then he ended his talk with these words, and I needed them just as much in October as I need them today (and I will probably need them in a month, a year, ten years from now):

"To all of our mothers everywhere, past, present, or future, I say, 'Thank you. Thank you for giving birth, for shaping souls, for forming character, and for demonstrating the pure love of Christ.' To Mother Eve, to Sarah (a mother of one child!), Rebekah (she only had two children!), and Rachel (again, two children!), to Mary of Nazareth, and to a Mother in Heaven, I say, 'Thank you for your crucial role in fulfilling the purposes of eternity.' To all mothers in every circumstance, including those who struggle—and all will—I say, 'Be peaceful. Believe in God and yourself. You are doing better than you think you are. In fact, you are saviors on Mount Zion,¹³ and like the Master you follow, your love never faileth.’¹⁴ I can pay no higher tribute to anyone."

His words aren't just to the mothers whose families are complete, or those who are up into the 3 to 5 times tables when it comes to "multiplying and replenishing the earth." They are to those who have never been able to have children, to those who are trying, to those who are pregnant, to those who have birthed stillborn babies or suffered miscarriages, to those with one child, and to those, like me, who have children but want more and are wondering if my best efforts and childbearing and childrearing are possibly enough to earn me that title of Mother. 

And he never once uses the word just, though I have used it 20 times in this post alone.

So, right at this moment, I may have to take his word for it that I am doing better than I think I am, and that I can find peace in my role at this moment, and that though my love for my children may falter on some days, when it comes right down to it, that love never faileth.

2016 Reading Challenge

I wasn't going to do a reading challenge this year, but out of curiosity I looked into the challenge for this year and decided that it looked much more manageable than 2015's (only 41 instead of 53!), so here I am, picking it up again!

For the printable list to complete your own 2016 challenge, go here.

• A book based on a fairy tale: Princess of the (Midnight Ball, Glass, Silver Woods) by Jessica Day George (***)
• A National Book Award winner: 
• A YA Bestseller The Fault In Our Stars by John Green (*** PG-13)
• A book you haven't read since high school  college: Eve's Daughters by Lynn Austin (**** PG-13)
• A book set in your home state: Christmas Jars by Jason Wright (** PG) --okay, so this might be a stretch, but the author seems local and no official setting is given, sooo..?
• A book translated into English: Sarah's Key by Tatiana de Rosnay (*** PG-14)
• A romance set in the future The Birthmarked Trilogy by Caragh M. O'Brien (**** PG-13)
• A book set in Europe  The Painter's Daughter by Julie Klassen (** PG-13)
• A book that's under 150 pages Ellen Tebbits by Beverly Cleary (**** G)
• A New York Times Bestseller The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh (**** PG-13)
• A book that's becoming a movie this year: Me Before You by JoJo Moyes (** PG-13)
• A book recommended by someone you just met A Night Divided by Jennifer A Nielsen (***** PG)
• A self-improvement book One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp (** PG)
• A book you can finish in a day Mr. Lemoncello's Library Olympics by Chris Grabenstein (**** G)
• A book written by a celebrity (or someone you know?): Immortal Writers by Jill Bowers (**** PG-13)
• A political memoir The Boys In the Boat by Daniel Brown (***** PG)
• A book at least 100 years older than you (or one set more than 1000 years ago?): The Legendary Inge by Kate Stradling (***** PG)
• A book that's more than 600 pages Romance Collection by Melanie Dickerson (*** PG) 
• A book from Oprah's Book Club
• A science-fiction novel The Vault of Dreamers by Caragh O'Brien (*** PG)
• A book recommended by a family member Fireweed by Terry Montague (***** PG)
• A graphic novel (well, this one had pictures, sooo) Library of Soulds by Ransom Riggs (**** PG)
• A book that is published in 2016 The Summer Before the War by Helen Simonson (***** PG-13 sort of)
• A book with a protagonist with your same occupation The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah (***** PG-13)
• A book that takes place during Summer: Summer of Sundays (** G)
• A book and its prequel Until The Dawn by Elizabeth Camden (**** PG)
• A murder mystery The Daring Ladies of Lowell by Kate Alcott (**** PG-13)
• A book written by a comedian
• A dystopian novel The Crown by Kiera Cass (*** PG)
• A book with a blue cover Keeping the Castle by Patrice Kindl (** G)
• A book of poetry
• The first book you see in a bookstore A Heart Revealed by Josi S. Kilpack (** G)
• A classic from the 20th Century Cold Sassy Tree by Olive Ann Burns (****PG)
• A book from the library The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield (*****PG-13 for sheer wierdness)
• An autobiography Etched in Sand by Regina Calcuttera (**** PG-13)
• A book about a road trip The Apothecary by Maile Meloy (*** PG)
• A book about a culture you're unfamiliar with: When Crickets Cry by Charles Martin (***** PG-13)
• A satirical book
• A book that takes place on an island The Princess Academy: Forgotten Sisters by Shannon Hale (*** PG)
• A book that's guaranteed to bring you joy Salt to the Sea by Ruta Septys (***** PG-13) note: this is not a happy book, but the way it is written brings me joy. I love Ruta Septys' work. 

And, in keeping with last year's tradition, here are my recommendations based on books I've already read:

• A book based on a fairy tale: Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow by Jessica Day George
• A National Book Award winner Ramona and Her Mother by Beverly Cleary
• A YA Bestseller The Book Thief
• A book you haven't read since high school To Kill a Mockingbird
• A book set in your home state The Guardian by Dean Hughes
• A book translated into English The Little Prince
• A romance set in the future Red Queen
• A book set in Europe The Forgotten Garden
• A book that's under 150 pages The Hundred Dresses
• A New York Times Bestseller All the Light We Cannot See
• A book that's becoming a movie this year The BFG
• A book recommended by someone you just met...
• A self-improvement book How Will You Measure Your Life?
• A book you can finish in a day Hattie Ever After
• A book written by a celebrity 
• A political memoir Benjamin Franklin's Autobiography
• A book at least 100 years older than you Little Women
• A book that's more than 600 pages 
• A book from Oprah's Book Club Ellen Foster
• A science-fiction novel Ender's Game
• A book recommended by a family member Enchantment by Orson Scott Card
• A graphic novel: 
• A book that is published in 2016
• A book with a protagonist with your same occupation
• A book that takes place during Summer: A Song for Summer
• A book and its prequel The Mysterious Benedict Society
• A murder mystery Killing Mr. Griffin by Lois Duncan
• A book written by a comedian Dad is Fat 
• A dystopian novel The Birthmarked Trilogy
• A book with a blue cover The Princess Academy
• A book of poetry: Where the Sidewalk Ends
• The first book you see in a bookstore (yay! A trip to Seagull book!)
• A classic from the 20th Century Anne of Green Gables
• A book from the library Anything By Sarah Addison Allen
• An autobiography Alicia, My Story
• A book about a road trip  Hope Was Here
• A book about a culture you're unfamiliar with  The Rent Collector
• A satirical book
• A book that takes place on an island The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society
• A book that's guaranteed to bring you joy The Book of Mormon

Someday I will finish filling out this recommendations list--clearly I have some reading to do!