Becoming a Matriarch

As I evolve in this earthly journey of womanhood, I find that I enjoy reading other women’s stories of child birth. We’re all very familiar with the story of Jesus’ birth in Luke chapter 2:6-7:

“And so it was, that while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.”

Of course, the story progresses with the witness of the angels to the shepherds and eventually through the city of Bethlehem that the Son of God has been born. We finally read something personal about how Mary perceived these events in a mere twelve words in verse 19: But Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart.

Someday, most certainly in another part of this eternal experience, I would like to attend an epic devotional—where all of the great Matriarchs of scripture share their birth experiences. Birth is an essential part of our mortal existence—the gateway to our Second Estate, the proving ground for deliberate and covenant-making and keeping disciples of Christ. We know that we qualified for this opportunity because we have these bodies created in the image of our Heavenly Parents. Our spirits are the children of a Heavenly Father and a Heavenly Mother in the most literal sense possible.

I love these words from the author, Sarah Bessey. I love what she teaches us about birth and becoming a mother.

“If more mothers were pastors or preachers, perhaps the nativity stories of Christmas wouldn’t be quite so immaculate. We wouldn’t sing songs of babies who don’t cry. And maybe we wouldn’t mistake quiet for peace….The whole story of birth—this creating out of passion and love, the carrying of an ever-increasing beloved burden, the seemingly never-ending waiting, the knitting together of wonder in secret places, the under-the-surface fear, the pain, the labor, the blurring of that line between joy and “someone please make it stop,” the “I can’t do it” even while locked in the midst of the doing, the delivery of a new life in blood and hope and humanity—this is the stuff of God. There is something godly in the waiting, in the mystery, in the fact that we are a part of it—a partner with it but not the authors of it. You know there is a new life coming, and the anticipation is sometimes exciting, other times exhausting and never ending. There is a price to pay for the privilege of life. I can assure you: there isn’t anything very dignified about giving birth. And yet, that was the moment when I felt my carefully constructed line between the sacred and the secular shatter once and for all. The sacred and holy moments of a life are often our most raw, our most human moments aren’t they? No experience can take away what many mothers the world over know in their heart of hearts, about loss, sacrifice, pain, and birth, raising babies to life, and real transformation: it is Love, and it is sacred in its very messy living out. Is there a story on your lips? Of how you saw the face of God in the midst of fear or pain or joy, and how you understood—really understood—the Mother Mary.”

Yes, I would like to hear Mary’s story. If birth is a metaphor for our earthly experience and Jesus Christ is our Savior, I would like to hear what she pondered in her heart and how it changed her perspective in that very mortal moment.

The scriptures are rich with stories of womanhood. These women whose struggles and life situations are not unlike our own. No two are the same. Some are affluent; others live in poverty. Most are married, but some are single. Some are born in the lineage of prophets, and others come from the cultures of the world. Some have children; others do not. Some make their contributions from within a loving and supportive marriage. Others bring about much good while being married to an absent, abusive or unfaithful husband. All of them have challenges, but each one has a divine potential to contribute to the Lord’s work.

We often refer to these scriptural women as matriarchs. What is a matriarch of the gospel? A matriarch is a female who is central to a family unit. She is known for her leadership, problem solving, and ability to guide and direct those whom she stewards. She is fiercely loyal and protective of those in her care. Generally, she is a mother, but it is not required, for a woman can become a matriarch by using her spiritual gifts to support, defend, and nurture those in her family unit. A matriarch is easy to identify because others are drawn to her goodness; she influences her family more than any other group or individual. A matriarch focuses on nurturing, not competition.

The Latter-day Saint church alone among all the Christianities asserts that just as we have a Father in Heaven, so we also have a Mother in Heaven. We believe that all divinity is both male and female, such that our Heavenly Father could not be a god unless there was an equally yoked Heavenly Mother by his side who was also a god. Both President Harold B. Lee and President Spencer W. Kimball indicated that our Heavenly Mother possesses all the attributes of Godhood. She and Heavenly Father reared and taught us in the pre-earth life. She helped create this earth and formulate the Plan of Salvation. She stands beside the Father, as an equal partner and companion. In addition, these prophets stated that she can guide us here in mortality. President Kimball stated, “knowing how profoundly our mortal mothers have shaped us here, do we suppose her [that is, Heavenly Mother’s] influence on us as individuals to be less if we live so as to return [to heaven]?”

She is the great matriarch of our spirits. When we plead with our Father in Heaven and seek His counsel be assured that She is also there—sending personalized and specific comfort and peace. Sisters, we are here to learn to become like her; to become a matriarch.

Becoming a matriarch isn’t a step-by-step process. There isn’t one right way (yours) and the wrong way (everyone else’s). Our essential birth through the veil of mortality required the Atonement of Jesus Christ as the only way we could meet terms of justice. We will make mistakes; that was the whole idea.

Chieko Okasaki, former first counselor in the RS Presidency gave an excellent example of the great diversity in LDS homes. She held up two distinctly different quilts. She stated, “Both are handmade, beautiful, and delightful to snuggle down in or wrap around a [child]. Now look at this quilt. It’s a Hawaiian quilt with a strong, predictable pattern. We can look at half of the quilt and predict what the other half looks like. Sometimes our lives seem patterned, predictable in happy ways, in order. Now look at this second quilt. This style is called a crazy quilt. Some pieces are the same color, but no two pieces are the same size. They’re odd shapes. They come together at odd angles. This is an unpredictable quilt. Sometimes our lives are unpredictable, unpatterened, not neat or well-ordered. Well, there’s not one right way to be a quilt as long as the pieces are stitched together firmly. Both of these quilts will keep us warm and cozy. Both are beautiful and made with love. There’s not just one right way to be a Morman woman, either, as long as we are firmly grounded in faith in the Savior, make and keep covenants, live the commandments, and work together in charity. All of our homes can be righteous homes where individuals love each other, love the Lord, and strengthen each other.”

There was a period of time after our first failed adoption when I felt as if the hole in my spirit, in my soul would never be filled. I didn’t know how to fill it. I read everything I could on faith because I felt that if I would have had enough faith that I would have been able to move that mountain. I didn’t feel strong enough, or good enough to command a mountain to cast down a stone—let alone cast itself into the sea.

Time and experience create great spaces for mercy and love to reside. I use this story to illustrate how the Lord uses it in our process of “becoming”:

               Pastor Gaetan and his wife, Madame, had a dream for their little family of orphans: a real school. Their compound in Haiti was large enough to accommodate a school, but there was a large rocky hill in the middle, making it unsuitable for development. One day, a skinny Haitian man in his sixties showed up with a pickax and a shovel. With the promise of only lunch as his daily payment, he shouldered into that stone and dismantled an entire rock hillside, shovel by shovel, in the equatorial heat. Later, we asked him why he felt compelled to do this, what motivated this tremendous effort, and he told a story of always longing to go to school; and even though it was too late for him, it was not to late for Haiti. It took months of hard labor, but he leveled that hill with his own wiry arms and strong back, and they set up their tent school: more than 150 kids from the neighborhood showed up in little brown uniforms, many girls among them. Thanks be to God who moves mountains. And thanks be to God for men and women who pick up the stones, one after another, after another, until the mountain moves. Faith can, in fact, move mountains. And this is where I learned that sometimes our most holy mountain-moving faith looks more like spending our whole lives making that mountain move, rock by rock, pebble by pebble, unsexy day after daily day, casting the mountain to the sea stone by stone rather than watching a mountain suddenly rise up and cast itself.

Dear sisters, every time you pick up a rock—in faith, in your process of “becoming”—it matters. The duties and eternal responsibility of being a matriarch are perfected in the monotony of your daily tasks. Our biggest challenge in this world of constant competition is to lift where we stand; to do the work where it is needed. When we lift where we stand we gain confidence in our Heavenly Parents; in their eternal plan for us because we can see that overtime the little stones can make a difference.

Carolyn Custis James writes: The community of God’s people should be the epicenter of human flourishing—where men and women are encouraged and supported in their efforts to develop and use the gifts God has given them wherever he stations them in this world…God never envisioned a world where [his disciples] would do life in low gear or be encouraged to hold back, especially when suffering is rampant, people are lost, and there is so much Kingdom work to do. He wants his daughters to thrive, mature, gain wisdom, hone their gifts, and contribute to his vast purposes in our world…God created his daughters to be kingdom builders—to pay attention to what is happening around us, to take action and contribute.

We do that best when we focus on nurturing rather than competing. God marks a heroine differently than the world does.

We do that best when we look to the attributes of Christ, who was taught by his mother, Mary:  “You must begin with your own life-giving lives. It’s who you are, not what you say and do, that counts. Your true being brims over into true words and deeds. You cannot be full to the brim with Christ’s love and peace without spilling over into the lives of others. You learn how to love by being loved. You yearn to heal once you are healed. We receive goodness and bread, and then, of course, of course, we want to point every other hungry beggar on the road to the source.”

We do that best when we are confident. Matriarchs are leaders. Teach with confidence and bear your testimony with conviction.

We do that best when we are powerful. Powerful because you are becoming a matriarch through making and keeping sacred covenants in the temple. The power in the priesthood is with you as you lead and guide your family. As you stitch your own type of quilt, the power of the priesthood will keep your stitches tight and firmly in place.

We do it best when we love. Love is the only way.

How grateful I am for your love, for your friendship, for your examples of patience and sacrifice.

I bear testimony of the existence of a Heavenly Father and Heavenly Mother. They know us, they love us—infinitely and eternally.

If you’re wondering if there is a place for you in the Kingdom; if you’re wondering if you’re type of quilt will ever qualify as good enough—don’t quit. Keep picking up the stones, even if you only have the strength left to grasp for pebbles. God’s grace will give you the power to keep going. There IS a place for you. Your contributions MATTER. We NEED your love. I know it—and so I testify, in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

The "Real" Mom

It’s not a secret that Jeff is the “real mom” in our home. Lachlan’s mentioned to me (and probably every one of her Primary teachers) on several occasions that she hopes that “dad doesn’t die before you,”—and maybe there would be mothers who would be sad or offended by such a comment, but in our house after such a statement we all just kind of nod in agreement (myself included). Case in point, last week Jeff worked late. On most nights, we get the kids ready for bed and then he deals with the “teeth.” On this particular night, Louisa brought me a whole box of floss and through a bunch of grunts and hand signals made it clear that she intended for me to floss her teeth. Kids’ teeth make me sick, but she was so insistent that I found myself dealing with the task.

Let’s be clear—this is no small task with Louisa—she has little tiny spaces between each tooth and when I looked inside her mouth there were bits of food, grass, gravel—maybe even some doll hair and plastic (only a slight exaggeration). In a word, it was horrific.

I had to do some positive self-talk, “Come on, Rose, you’ve emptied the contents of a cow’s stomach into a 55-gallon drum, sifted through it with your hands, weighed it, and put it back in the cow!” “Breathe through your nose, you’ve drained abscesses as big as your fist!”

Even then, as I’d be getting though the task, I’d catch a whiff of her hot little breath coming at me—laden with the scent of hard-boiled eggs and wet popcorn and it was all I could do not to grab the garbage can.

About half-way through the debris extraction process, Jack burst into the bathroom and asked me why I was sweating and crying, to which I croaked, “I’m trying not to throw up, now get out!” I heard him go down the hall and say to Lachlan, “Mom is in there cleaning Louisa’s teeth, she’s gagging and you do NOT want to go in there.”

So today, as we pause to celebrate the glorious-ness that is the blood and the milk of motherhood--let us not forget that for some of us we have to share the glory--because we really, REALLY, couldn't do it alone.

Celebrating a Birthday

 We were so excited to celebrate Jeff's birthday this year. The kids wanted to get him "a cake in the shape of beef jerky--cause he really loves it!" Our friend, Taryl, made a perfect cake. I made some Pork Lo Mein and we called it an official party.

 Not only that...but I got him a real present! Yay, Mom. My favorite moment of the night was watching all of them stare at the map and point out their favorite runs, favorite memories, and funniest moments from our ski adventures. Jeff has taken the time to teach each one of us to ski. He's been so patient and I'm so grateful that he has been willing to share this love with us.

Love it.

Some pretty bad pictures of Easter...

Oiy, for the record--the girls looked so pretty in these dresses. Some days you just can't get any blood from a turnip. I took twenty shots and THIS awesomeness is as good as it gets. Also, the buttons on Lachlan's dress kept popping open--she has worn the same size for over a year and this dress is unfortunately the first sign of us moving up a size. Good thing I got it on sale.

 We haven't been to the neighborhood egg hunt for a few years, but it kind of felt renewed because it was Louisa's first time. She was confused as most kids are--at least until it was understood that the candy went in the bucket.

 Perfect light--but one creepy eyes (Jack), tired grimace (Louisa), and forced smile (Lachlan).

 Best picture of the day...not my kid.

 This kid loves Doritos. We're talking poster child level.

Hogle Zoo

 Nanny Nancy bought us a Hogle Zoo pass for Christmas. We spent a day of our Spring Break braving the chilly weather and checking out how the animals fared this winter. The zoo continues to improve every year. The new exhibits are really well done. We even got a little sunshine during our lunch break.

 This picture was very uncomfortable for everyone...for some reason no one wanted to sit down in the big nest. I'm kind of laughing about it now because I forced them to do it--and it really is a weird thing isn't it?

 The bears were the most entertaining thing we saw all day. They're fighting some pretty serious shedding/hair loss, but at least they were moving around.

 Lachlan really wanted me to take her picture riding this lion. Note the vest on the outside of the coat--could not convince her to wear it the other way around. Now I'm noticing that Jack was doing the same thing...oiy. And poor Louisa, freezing cold day and guess who's coat got left at home. Never been so glad that I keep an old quilt in the back of the van--she wrapped up in it while she rode in the stroller the whole time.

 Well, except here...while we watched the tiger spray his scent on the fence.

 ...And here, while we rode on the carousel.

 You have to wait in line to have your picture taken on the trunk of this elephant.

 My favorite moment of the whole day was watching Jack get the attention of the meerkat. It's a lovely moment with his reflection in the picture. You can almost see that dimple in his right cheek.

 Funniest moment of the day is Louisa's face with this rhino horn up her rear end.

 Oh, Lachlan. Bless your heart. Look at Louisa staring at her...telling her to climb up, go up, get up...and then realizing that she better come and push her up from the bottom end. Babe, you're awesome, but we better start doing some push ups and work on some basic coordination skills.

Well, spring break has come and gone--not to mention two full weeks of back to school. I don't know how the time moves so quickly this time of year. It seems like winter will never end and then all of a sudden overnight I've missed the spring.

We spent last weekend doing yardwork. I have so much to accomplish this year because I let everything go last year...I just didn't have the strength to deal with all of it. I had to transplant several plants that were totally overgrown and a few more that were just entirely in the wrong spot.

The kids have been practicing basketball in the driveway after dinner. Jack told us tonight that he was finally good enough to play with the kids at school. It's been a goal for him since Christmas. He's been working so hard on dribbling and controlling the ball. I think it's awesome because he didn't really even know about basketball until last fall.

Lachlan is learning about rocks at school. She went to the geology lab on campus this week and listened to her 4th grade buddies tell all about the different types of rocks. She really wanted to touch some of the rocks, but they were too special so she was excited when Jeff hauled out his childhood rock collection. No joke, who saves a rock collection, but Jeff Murray?

Louisa is still going to preschool. I keep waiting for someone to call and tell me they can't take it anymore. We are beginning to see some progress with her speech. She is very good at the "g" sound and even said, "Tiger" this past week. She loves riding the bus and her driver, Gloria. I think it's been really good for her to go more frequently during the week.

Jeff's birthday is next week. I got him a real present. I'm very pleased with myself because it is completely overwhelming for me to find anything for him. This year I had a huge burst of inspiration and was able to pull it together--yay, me!

Spring Break!

 We spent a day of our Spring Break visiting the BYU campus. I thought that it would be a good idea to show the kids where dad went to college. Jeff was able to tell the kids some stories and show us where he lived. Apparently, back in the day he did a lot of rollerblading to get around town. It's for the best that we didn't meet until a decade later. I'm quite certain it wouldn't have been an endearing quality I would have embraced.

We spent a few hours at the Museum of Art. The Carl Bloch exhibit was incredible. I'm so grateful that I've been teaching Gospel Doctrine for the past four years. It's given me such an appreciation for the bible. There were several pictures which I wish I could have stayed and studied--the kids were good, but not THAT good.

I also wanted to see this original nativity piece by Brian Kershisnik. It's probably my most favorite piece of artwork. Jeff gave me a print for Christmas. I rarely look at it without being incredibly moved and given a small breathe of the Spirit. I'm always moved by the blood on the hands of the midwives...the mortality of Christ and the necessity of caring and skilled women to help him begin his mission on Earth. [sigh] Amazing.

After lunch we drove by the tabernacle/temple downtown and were able to see that they were going to place the Moroni on the temple. I thought that they would expand the size of the tabernacle to make the temple a bit bigger, but it seems to be about the same size.

The next stop on our cities tour was downtown Salt Lake.

 We visited the Church History Museum. I have such great memories of the museum. Grandma Carver was a docent here for many years. I remember coming and having her give a special tour and sharing her love for church history. I had forgotten this large angel Moroni--it's two inches shorter than an actual statue--I was probably only a bit older when my mom took a picture of me and my sisters in front of it. There was a "Women of Charity" art exhibit. The art was wonderful. I wanted to take some pictures but it was heavily guarded.

 All my life I've wondered about the view from the top of the Church Administration Building...here it is. I thought for certain that you would be able to see out over City Creek, but the south view is completely blocked.

 The view to the North.

 We toured Temple Square, City Creek, and the Beehive House. The tour of the Beehive house was cut short when I realized the kids didn't have a clue who Brigham Young was, or what he did, or why we were even there. In fact, this trip highlighted a number of critical pieces of history they are missing. They know about pioneers, but they didn't know Joseph Smith was murdered. They knew people crossed the plains, but didn't know they came to Utah. After touring Temple Square for 15 minutes Lachlan thought, "it looked like the place we went to see the Christmas lights."

Sara and I took Brooklyn and Lachlan to the first General Women's Meeting. I also wanted to take Lachlan up to the newly added photographs of the leadership.

Louisa Skis the Beav

We started off Spring Break by taking the kids out of school a day early. I can't remember a season in a long time where we skied on a foot of new powder on nearly the last day. This is a quick video of Louisa learning to ski for the first time. We were pretty impressed with her 3-year-old skills. She was pretty determined to learn it all in one day--which says something about her true character. I did have to laugh because the next day she told me "yegs hurt. youch." Curse the snow plow. AND--Jack would like you to notice that he is practicing his backwards skiing at the end of the video. His goal is to ski down the whole mountain backwards and "spinning around."

Louisa is quite athletic. I'm always surprised by what she can do physically, even though she is small. Lately, she is obsessed with jumping rope. If you're within 20 feet you'll probably lose an eye or at least get a wicked burn from the plastic rope whipping wildly through the air. She jumps at least 50 times on both feet. If she could coordinate her arms and legs at the same time she could compete.

Here's a few more shots of Jeff doing all the work. I'd love to say that I helped, but mostly I skied the powder. I took Jack and Lachlan with me. We did a few runs with no wrecks and a few runs where we all were covered. I'll admit that on one run I cleaned snow out of my helmet and pants.

 Louisa staring at her new ski pass. She wore herself out and fell asleep before we even got to the stop sign on the canyon road.

 Taking a lunch break. Lachlan told me that dad "made her eat 15 oranges" and it made her a little "seasick" on the lift later on that day. I asked her why she didn't tell him that she was full and she said, "I don't know, he just kept peeling them and I kept on eating them." Thank goodness she can do her "deep breathing" and keep it all down (unlike Jack, the vomit machine).

Our first family picture from the top of the Little Beaver lift. Jack was "practicing with his poles"--he hates skiing with them. He told me that they "wear out his armpits" and that he needs to get to the gym and get working on them to get stronger. Buddy, I seriously hope you never get strong armpits. Yuck. It also makes me laugh when I see him with those poles tucked up in his armpits. Hilarious.

Lastly, we had a cousin ski day a few weeks ago--it was so fun to ski with all the kids together. We need to get Erica and Landon out here! We didn't lose anyone and there weren't any tears! It's so fun for the kids to ski together. I was so bummed that we didn't get a picture of the kids with the Beaver at the Snoopy Carnival. Next year I will be better prepared. Lachlan was mad that I didn't tell her to wear her princess costume...

Current State of Affairs

 Let's start at the beginning, which is about four weeks AFTER this picture was taken...wherein I discover that both kittens have ringworm. Do yourself a favor and DON'T Google it. You won't sleep at night wondering if your pets have it. I Googled it after I purchased the special anti-fungal shampoo from Amazon.com--didn't sleep for three days. Once again, Aunt Carrie to the rescue. We washed every piece of bedding in the entire house, vacuumed every corner, washed every wall, bleached every floor...then we drank Diet Coke and took 800mg of Ibuprofen. Truthfully, there are worse things than ringworm but all the websites basically went on for pages about how you'll never get rid of it and then the kids will get it. Ugh. What a nightmare!

So today marks four weeks of treatment--I cried in the bathroom from sheer relief after washing the THIRD cat. It takes three hours to wash three cats, bleach the bathroom, scrub the laundry room, wash all of the towels in bleach and vacuum the whole house. I have done this at LEAST twice a week for the past four weeks. I haven't seen any new growth on any of the cats for a full week--which leads me to believe that maybe by some miracle I will actually be able to resume a normal life--free of chloromethelhexane! My advice to you is simple: go ahead and get a shelter cat--but you shouldn't leave until you've witnessed that animal under a wood lamp. If you don't know what it is Google it. You'll save yourself 4-6 weeks of detox.
No good deed goes unpunished.

 Well, next Saturday is the Pond Skim party at Beaver Mountain. I can't believe that we're through another season already. We are taking Louisa for her inaugural ski trip. We managed to get up to the mountain most Saturdays. I even took the kids by myself a couple of times, which tells you how much better they have gotten this year. Jack's favorite runs are in the terrain park. Lachlan's favorite move is the "squat and tuck"--elbows out. It's pretty funny.

 My favorite day of the season was with this lady. Can't get her to leave the Sev' behind these days...so it was awesome to have her all to myself for the whole day.

 And on an unrelated note: I took these pictures of my girls eating. They eat exactly the same way. Mouth so wide open that their eyes scrunch up and seal shut. Lachlan actually looks in pain when she bites into stuff. I always thought it was crazy until Louisa showed up and eats just like her! Is this an Asian thing? I don't know, but it is pretty interesting. Check out that vein on Lachlan's forehead--bulging out from biting down on pizza crust.