what is the goliath in your life?

I was thinking about this talk lately. About The Goliaths in our lives, the hard things that seem like bigger trials than we seem to be able to take on. But we do. And they are not forever. And with Courage, Effort, Humility, Prayer, and Duty we get through them. Usually not as quickly as we would prefer. And not always with the exact results we want. But they will one day be behind us. While we wait for or begin to take on another Goliath.

The Prophet talks about the details leading up to David taking out Goliath with his one stone and slingshot. My own summary can't do it justice. Then it leads into these parts below I like:

Well might we look carefully into our own lives and judge our courage, our faith. Is there a Goliath in your life? Is there one in mine? Does he stand squarely between you and your desired happiness? Your Goliath may not carry a sword or hurl a verbal challenge of insult that all may hear and force you to decision. He may not be ten feet tall, but he likely will appear equally as formidable, and his silent challenge may shame and embarrass.

One man’s Goliath may be the stranglehold of a cigarette or perhaps an unquenchable thirst for alcohol. To another, her Goliath may be an unruly tongue or a selfish streak which causes her to spurn the poor and the downtrodden. Envy, greed, fear, laziness, doubt, vice, pride, lust, selfishness, discouragement—all spell Goliath.

The giant you face will not diminish in size nor in power or strength by your vain hoping, wishing, or waiting for him to do so. Rather, he increases in power as his hold upon you tightens.

*
But the battle must be fought. Victory cannot come by default. So it is in the battles of life. Life will never spread itself in an unobstructed view before us. We must anticipate the approaching forks and turnings in the road. We cannot hope to reach our desired journey’s end if we think aimlessly about whether to go east or west. We must make our decisions purposefully. Our most significant opportunities will be found in times of greatest difficulty.

*

I like to think of David as the righteous lad who had the courage and the faith to face insurmountable odds when all others hesitated, and to redeem the name of Israel by facing the giant in his life.

Like David of old, “our cause is just.” We have been placed upon earth not to fail or fall victim to temptation’s snare, but rather to succeed. Our giant, our Goliath, must be conquered.

*

Gotta love the words of the prophet. I find he tends to be a good one to listen to and ponder the words of often.

rock the casbah

One of the interesting things I have recently noticed about myself (while learning how to be a mother of a special needs boy) is that despite a medical explanation and diagnosis for him, I still find in a public setting that my shortcomings must be obvious to others and viewed as the reason for my son's (at times) challenging behaviors.

Recently an old friend from college shared with me a compliment about what he remembered about me from the time we were friends. The timing of this compliment could not have come on a better week. I told him briefly of my family. About my amazing husband, adorable children and our current journey understanding Zane being on the autism spectrum. He told me about his experiences working with special needs children as an intern. Then he assured me that he imagined I am doing well by my children as, he said, he remembered that I always seemed put my everything into the things I do.

I came away from that message with a bashful blush, but a certain knowledge that he was right. I really do give my family everything I have. Even as I am aware I am not perfect and I have a high standard for myself, I can look back and know that with the experience and knowledge I have had with every step of parenting each of my children, despite my shortcomings, I have definitely, always given it my all. This realization brought me great comfort and tremendous courage to continue doing what I am really good at doing- working hard. And to let go of the worries of where I fall short in more spots than I care to admit.

****

Recently a nice woman in Relief Society quoted this part of a great talk from 1976:

We can distinguish more clearly between divine discontent and the devil’s dissonance, between dissatisfaction with self and disdain for self. We need the first and must shun the second, remembering that when conscience calls to us from the next ridge, it is not solely to scold but also to beckon.

The Savior wants us to remember that we give it our all. The adversary wants us to focus on our shortcomings, it pleases him when we beat ourselves up too harshly. The Savior welcomes healthy self inventory checks that inspire positive change within. I'd say there is a big difference between the two that is important to remember when engaging in self-reflection.

Her quote led me to find the talk from 1976, I think it provides great wisdom. Especially this portion:

Some of us who would not chastise a neighbor for his frailties have a field day with our own. Some of us stand before no more harsh a judge than ourselves, a judge who stubbornly refuses to admit much happy evidence and who cares nothing for due process. Fortunately, the Lord loves us more than we love ourselves. A constructive critic truly cares for that which he criticizes, including himself, whereas self-pity is the most condescending form of pity; it soon cannibalizes all other concerns.

strength thru obedience

I had a pretty crappy last half of the day today. And I started to write about it. But it didn't come out funny. And certainly not uplifting. So I will place this here instead. A quote from Thomas S. Monson. And now I feel better. While letting go of the crappy part of my day.

******

A Modern Example

One who had learned well the lesson of obedience, who had found the fountain of truth, was a kind and sincere man of humble means and circumstances. He had joined the Church in Europe and, by diligently saving and sacrificing, had immigrated to North America—to a new land, a strange language, different customs, but the same Church under the leadership of the same Lord, whom he trusted and obeyed. He became the branch president of a little flock of struggling Saints in a somewhat unfriendly city. He followed the program of the Church, although members were few and tasks were many. He set an example for his branch membership that was truly Christlike, and they responded with a love rarely seen.

He earned a living with his hands as a tradesman. His means were limited, but he always paid a full tithing and donated more. He started a missionary fund in his little branch, and for months at a time, he was the only contributor. When there were missionaries in his city, he fed them, and they never left his house without some tangible donation to their work and welfare. Church members from far away who passed through his city and visited his branch always received his hospitality and the warmth of his spirit and went on their way knowing they had met an unusual man, one of the Lord’s obedient servants.

Those who presided over him received his profound respect and his extra-special care. To him they were emissaries of the Lord; he ministered to their physical comforts and was especially solicitous in his prayers—which were frequent—for their welfare. One Sabbath day some leaders visiting his branch participated with him in no fewer than a dozen prayers in various meetings and in visits to members. The leaders left him at the day’s end with a feeling of exhilaration and spiritual uplift which kept them joyous throughout a four-hour drive in wintry weather and which now, after many years, warms the spirit and quickens the heart as that day is remembered.

Men of learning, men of experience sought out this humble, unlettered man of God and counted themselves fortunate if they could spend an hour with him. His appearance was ordinary; his English was halting and somewhat difficult to understand; his home was unpretentious. He didn’t own a car or a television. He wrote no books and preached no polished sermons and did none of the things to which the world usually pays attention. Yet the faithful beat a path to his door. Why? Because they wished to drink at his fountain of truth. They appreciated not so much what he said as what he did, not the substance of the sermons he preached but the strength of the life he led.

To know that a poor man consistently and cheerfully gave at least twice a tenth to the Lord gave one a clearer insight into the true meaning of tithing. To see him minister to the hungered and take in the stranger made one know that he did it as he would do to the Master. To pray with him and partake of his confidence of divine intercession was to experience a new medium of communication.

Well could it be said that he kept the first and great commandment and the second which is like unto it,11 that his bowels were full of charity toward all men, that virtue garnished his thoughts unceasingly and, consequently, his confidence waxed strong in the presence of God.12

This man had the glow of goodness and the radiance of righteousness. His strength came from obedience.

The strength which we earnestly seek today to meet the challenges of a complex and changing world can be ours when, with fortitude and resolute courage, we stand and declare with Joshua, “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.”13

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And just pretend there isn't a picture of a man in a tampon costume picture in the post below this one. Might be a spiritual buzz kill.

it just sounds like a good idea

Lucky for Mike, there will be kids at this party. Lucky for Mike, I am not a good planner. Sort of his last minute gal.

OR.

We would be going to the party with me as a Tampon. And I would make him be the period. Which would simply be a shirt with a black dot on it. There's no way he would wear it if it was a red dot. But I know he would still go with me dressed as a tampon. Cos that's just the kind of girl he married. And he would keep it all on the inside and let me do my thing. My tampon dressed mom at a party thing. If I planned well ahead.

You know, I don't know why I don't dress up for Halloween. It's the best excuse to find a ridiculous costume no one else would dare wear and totally rock it. I would rock a tampon. Don't even deny it. Although, it might be a little tricky to discretely nurse a baby in the corner of the room with this get up on. I imagine myself trying to be all smooth about wiggling it up far enough while still trying to keep it on somehow and situating my baby and her food source while holding a conversation with someone. I guess I could always cut out nursing openings in the costume that close up with velcro. Yea, that wouldn't be akward.

OKAY SO MAYBE BEING A TAMPON ISN'T GOING TO WORK OUT THIS YEAR and perhaps I should let it go.

It's a hard-knock life

Yesterday my 2 year old was being, well, completely 2. Being exactly as he should. Melting at my feet and sobbing while I cooked dinner. We have a rule in my house that if you are whining at a time that isn't terribly convenient for me to fix the issue at hand, you go whine in your room. Normally this rule leads to perfect children that come back out 5 minutes later and realize wow it's so much better to use words! and then four leaf clovers grow out of the grass in the back and a rainbow appears leaving a pot of gold and dancing leprechauns. Parenthood is so funny that way.

So Evan forgets the rule about whining when I am busy being his slave, I mean cooking him food so he has to be placed into his crib while he thinks about this rule we have. I shut the door while the siren cry explodes into levels of volume normally heard by an ambulence racing to save a dying person. Not normally from a short person that can't wait 5 more minutes for food.

I resume my task and feel pleasure in gaining control of the situation and enforcing rules. Remembering it's a teaching moment dulls the sting of screaming kids sometimes. But mostly it's the closed door to muffle the sound that works best.

The baby begins to stir, she's getting sick of the swing. Drat. Zane is bouncing off the walls. And couches. Is there ever an age they hit where it's no longer a witching hour?

I hear a door open. Then shut. Then open. Evan strolls into the kitchen. He climbed out of his crib. I have officially been schooled. Only, he's totally cool about it. Like it didn't just happen. Like after 24+ months of his life he didn't just pick up a new trick that has removed the only sure way for me to contain him regardless of his temperment. He just walked past me and went about playing with toys like it was an everyday thing. It was funny to me how nonchalant he was about the whole thing. We sit down for dinner.

I ask: "Evan did you jump out of your crib?"

He shrugs his shoulders as if to say "Yeah, whatever. It's no big deal. Can you pass the salad?"

Until this morning. He did it again. Usually he screams for me to get him in the morning. Not today. He just rolled into my bedroom and walked around like he wasn't a freaking superstar crib jumper. Didn't even make eye contact or give any indication that he just broke out of his crib on his own. Acted as if he wasn't a bad A mofo. I am willing to bet he does a handstand on the crib rail on his way out of it. Then does a smooth tuck and roll as he lands on the ground. Stands up with arms in the air, a perfect 10. Maybe even struts to the door, giving off much bravado. Rolls up a pack of cigs in his sleeve and gives a wink to his stuffed animals. Chews up some glass on his way down the hallway. He might as well skip riding a bike and get a hog. This kid is just a little bit too tough for me. It's the coolness about his tough exterior that makes him completely rock solid. Little Evan. Our crib jumping biker gang kid. He is so tough.

Oh. Except when he has a temper tantrum. And prances on his tip toes with his hands bend at the wrist in front of his chest like a kitten begging on its hind legs for more milk in its dish. That's sort of not so tough.

Gotti

I remember when I first moved to New York I would hear stories about the mob. I learned about different neighborhoods rich with mobsters, old mafia tales, and more importantly mob family names. I had a friend who didn't like waiting for hours at certain restaurants, so when he would give his 'last name' for the list he would provide something richly Italian and famously known. Those times, he never waited for a table more than 10 minutes. Completely brilliant.

riddle me this

boy oh boy

I could photograph each of my children all day long. This One happened to be most available that day when I needed my photography fix. Oh, and btw, it turns out a #2 on the shaver makes for a really, really short hair cut. And ages your sweet, innocent two year old about three extra years.

I landed on this site today from Cup of Jo. I simply love it. Read every single entry. It's a father giving 1001 points of advice to his unborn son. My favorites:

293. Don't shout out requests at rock shows.
282. Never swing at the first pitch.
277. Fish don't have eyelids. Cast into the shade.
270. Stand up to bullies. You'll only have to do it once.
247. Twice a year, write down your goals.
234. Thank the bus driver.
226. Never ask about another person's grades or salary.
222. Don’t boast about projects in progress. Celebrate their completion.
220. Until you are a doctor, never answer your phone at the table.
That goes for emails, texts, twitters, and tweets.

It must be cool to be a father. Mike, you get to teach our boys all your secrets of the boy world. I hope they listen to you. Cos you're a great man and have loads of awesome things to tell them about the world.

Of all the lessons, I hope they pick up on the one about following The Prophet. It's sure helped us make some big decisions over the years.

Okay. Dressing a girl. I am starting from scratch. It's insane. INSANE how much there is to choose from. I am overwhelmed by the amount of crap stores try to get you to buy. They pull together wacky colors and themes from store to store on purpose so that it's impossible to mix and match different clothes from different stores together. Why can't there just be an affordable Americal Apparel for babies?! They are even vertically integrated! Because that's so important when selecting clothing!

So there I stood, thinking of my daugher's bright blue eyes and baby soft skin and really couldn't muster up enough courage to buy all the bright oranges and hot pink/ green polka dots on brown and funky color combos at each store I went into. It's the first full-on seasonal clothing need I am buying for her. Most everything up until now has been gifts. We have been very lucky that way, so many generous gifts.

I literally asked a sales person how this whole 'legging' thing worked. The walls in every store were filled with these legging stretch pants, but it didn't make any sense to me. They were all wacky colors that would require 7 parts of the entire outfit and nothing else in her wardrobe would corrolate to any of those selected leggings. And did I even want to dress her in leggings? What happened to pants? Where are the baby girl pants? Why does it feel like she is stuck in a baby wardrobe hell of leggings?

And who decided a dog would be cute? The whole clothing scheme for the season and all accessories revolved around this little dog image. And the next corner was a cat. Or a unicorn. Like some school mascot or something, but none were cute. Or cool. Why did it need a mascot? And why did all the mascots and colors surrounding the mascots clash? Why can't it just be basic colors with no animal or food or flower on it? If I had more time on my hands I swear I would figure out a way to sew and create my own baby clothing line. There is a need.

My head was spinning by the time I walked out of the 5th store confused about how I want to dress her and figuring out all the variations of needed clothing/ shoes and what color palate I wanted versus what I saw available. I'm starting over. Finding faves. And it's costing a lot more than I want it to. Dang it. Tell me if you have your baby girl shopping route/ path figured out to share with me. I'll need to figure out best place for jammies, church dresses/ shoes/ tights, everyday wear, extra cute outfits, etc. It's like I need a What Not to Wear for Baby Edition.

It wasn't until I looked in Janie & Jack that I actually loved the colors and design of the baby girl clothing. I cannot, however, feel good about the price of their clothing for everyday wear. Which is too bad because they have the colors, fabrics, quality, styling right. Where is my reasonably priced Janie & Jack!?

For my boys I learned the following:

1) Children's Place: argyle socks, ties, sweater vests, white buttom-up shirts, sweat pants. Nothing more should come from this store. Maybe jammies, only the kind without the flame resistant coating, though. Stuff always falls apart.

2) Gymboree: Pants (only those without special effects of wacky colors or animals on them- hard to come by at this store), socks, polos, blankets, jammie, onesies. Only from sales rack. Stuff never falls apart.

3) Old Navy: always buy the next size up (runs small), jeans, socks, undies, jammies, under shirts, T-shirts, hoodies, shorts. Barely makes it to round two with second boy.

4) Gap: church pants, T-shirts only on sale, church shoes, flip-flops, swimwear, shorts only on sale.

Stuff never falls apart.

5) Target: shorts, T-shirts, hoodies, ties, church socks, undies, under shirts, jammies. Never pants- they always wear out too soon. Sometimes falls apart, sometimes makes it another go-round with another kiddo.

6) Janie and Jack: sweater vests, button-up shirts, only on sale. Stuff lasts. Of course.

7) Vans: shoes.

8) Nordstrom: shoes.

9) H&M: Anything goes. Mostly T-shirts and hoodies are a score for the boys here. One should be opening soon out here!! Lasts, stays intact thru lots of washing.

or.

they could just be chair head and hamper boy for halloween.