"A morning prayer and an early search in the scriptures to know what we should do for the Lord can set the course of a day. We can know which task, of all those we might choose, matters most to God and therefore to us."
- Henry B. Eyring
"I urge you to examine your life. Determine where you are and what you need to do to be the kind of person you want to be. Create inspiring, noble, and righteous goals that fire your imagination and create excitement in your heart. And then keep your eye on them. Work consistently towards achieving them."
- Joseph B. Wirthlin
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I know more than ever (now that I am a mother) that life is infinitely easier when someone higher up is guiding me. He can see the big picture and truly knows and wants what is best for me. I wish I could remember this more often. Some days I'm just too stubborn and seem to want to take the hard road!
Tuesday, 22 May 2007
God grant me patience...
Colin: (makes the sign for drink)
Mom: Colin would you like a drink?
Colin: (nods. Mom gets him some juice in a sippy cup.)
Mom: Remember, the juice goes in your mouth.
Colin: (Smiles. Drinks. Pours juice on floor).
Mom: Okay. That means you lose your juice.
Colin: (Screams the entire minute I have put his cup out of reach)
Mom: Okay. Here is your juice. Don't pour it on the floor.
Colin: (Reaches for drink. Dutifully puts it in his mouth. Wanders two steps away, turns, smiles, and pours it on the floor)
Mom: Nope. You don't get your juice.
Colin: (Screams the entire two minutes the cup is out of reach).
Mom: Okay. One more try. The juice goes in your mouth, not on the floor. This time Mommy is going to hold the cup for you. (Struggles to keep his hands from tearing the cup from mine)
Colin: (Drinks nicely. Appears to finish. Takes three steps away, smiles, and spits the juice all over the floor. Is completely sated and doesn't care that I take the drink away again).
Mom: Colin would you like a drink?
Colin: (nods. Mom gets him some juice in a sippy cup.)
Mom: Remember, the juice goes in your mouth.
Colin: (Smiles. Drinks. Pours juice on floor).
Mom: Okay. That means you lose your juice.
Colin: (Screams the entire minute I have put his cup out of reach)
Mom: Okay. Here is your juice. Don't pour it on the floor.
Colin: (Reaches for drink. Dutifully puts it in his mouth. Wanders two steps away, turns, smiles, and pours it on the floor)
Mom: Nope. You don't get your juice.
Colin: (Screams the entire two minutes the cup is out of reach).
Mom: Okay. One more try. The juice goes in your mouth, not on the floor. This time Mommy is going to hold the cup for you. (Struggles to keep his hands from tearing the cup from mine)
Colin: (Drinks nicely. Appears to finish. Takes three steps away, smiles, and spits the juice all over the floor. Is completely sated and doesn't care that I take the drink away again).
More mishaps...
This morning we found Colin standing in his crib, diaper on the floor, and the entire bed soaked through! Somehow it seems he is discovering too many ways to make trouble for us! He seems a little young to be able to be such a monkey!
Monday, 21 May 2007
99 Balloons
God knows what we need and when we need it. Today I needed a video a friend passed along. Only three and a half months into the pregnancy, it seems like it will never end. I don't want to record all the downs I'm having, but suffice it to say I often feel like I want to rush through the next six months and be done with it.
This morning I caught a program on TV about three babies who were miracle births, none of whom were expected to live. Their parents spoke openly about their heartfelt prayers and the deep faith it took to get through each of their new baby's life. The children (now adults) spoke of the purposes they had found in life, and the roles they were fulfilling for the God who had let them live. It was a reminder to me just how delicate life is, and how none of us knows the course planned out for us.
Then this afternoon I watched a short video called "99 Balloons". It was a beautiful story about another miracle, a baby that wasn't even supposed to make it to birth. I won't write any more about the video, because I hope you do get a chance to watch it (link included at end of entry). It reinforced the message I'd been sent this morning, however. I didn't enjoy my first pregnancy and haven't had the best time this go-round either. But I hope I can learn to treasure these days a little more, because any one of us could be called home at any moment.
I almost want to go wake Colin from his nap and give him a big hug (but I know better than to wake a sleeping baby!)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=th6Njr-qkq0
This morning I caught a program on TV about three babies who were miracle births, none of whom were expected to live. Their parents spoke openly about their heartfelt prayers and the deep faith it took to get through each of their new baby's life. The children (now adults) spoke of the purposes they had found in life, and the roles they were fulfilling for the God who had let them live. It was a reminder to me just how delicate life is, and how none of us knows the course planned out for us.
Then this afternoon I watched a short video called "99 Balloons". It was a beautiful story about another miracle, a baby that wasn't even supposed to make it to birth. I won't write any more about the video, because I hope you do get a chance to watch it (link included at end of entry). It reinforced the message I'd been sent this morning, however. I didn't enjoy my first pregnancy and haven't had the best time this go-round either. But I hope I can learn to treasure these days a little more, because any one of us could be called home at any moment.
I almost want to go wake Colin from his nap and give him a big hug (but I know better than to wake a sleeping baby!)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=th6Njr-qkq0
Friday, 18 May 2007
The beginnings of a melody
If there was any doubt there is music in Colin's soul, lay it to rest now. Colin has always enjoyed talking, to us, to the cat, to strangers, to himself. We may not understand his words yet, but he definitely understands what he is saying. Lately we've caught him singing to himself. Right now he's waking himself up from his nap and I can hear him lying contentedly in his crib, gabbing and singing away.
His favourite tune seems to be "Frere Jaques". He gets a little muddled in the middle (that third line has a lot of quick notes!) but gets through to the end, only to go back to the beginning. We've also heard "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" and a little ditty of James' that he created when trying to cheer Colin up.
I remember learning in my Music in Early Childhood that children naturally have music in them. Our teacher related a family story of her daughter arriving at a beach one sunny summers day, and with no other way to express her joy, she ran through the waves bursting into song.
Colin sings himself to sleep, sings when he wakes, while he plays and while he just wanders around the house.
His favourite tune seems to be "Frere Jaques". He gets a little muddled in the middle (that third line has a lot of quick notes!) but gets through to the end, only to go back to the beginning. We've also heard "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" and a little ditty of James' that he created when trying to cheer Colin up.
I remember learning in my Music in Early Childhood that children naturally have music in them. Our teacher related a family story of her daughter arriving at a beach one sunny summers day, and with no other way to express her joy, she ran through the waves bursting into song.
Colin sings himself to sleep, sings when he wakes, while he plays and while he just wanders around the house.
Tuesday, 15 May 2007
This?
James and I have had the pleasure of learning the never-ending fun game of "Why?" much earlier than we should have. Everyone knows the curious question of the pre-schooler: "Why?" I have always been of the ilk that I will not placate my child with a "Because I said so", or "It just is, that's why." I think curiosity is one of the most important characteristics a child can develop and I want to encourage it as much as possible. (You all have permission to remind me of this entry in a few years after Colin's three thousandth "Why?").
Colin doesn't really have any consistent words yet, but he does have "This?" Much of the day is passed in him pointing at an object in the house, in a book, out the window, anywhere his little eyes rest on, and questioning: "This?" We patiently touch the object and tell him what it is called. Traditionally, this game will endure anywhere from 20-50 "This?" at a time. Then we'll have a short rest, only to start it up again.
Luckily my patience hasn't worn thin yet, and I've seemed fairly able to cope with it. We'll see how things go a few kids and a few years down the road, but for now, I'm doing okay. And even though Colin's not speaking yet, I'm betting that one day he'll wake up and have this huge vocabulary we've built in his head and he'll just start talking as if he'd been doing it his whole life.
Colin doesn't really have any consistent words yet, but he does have "This?" Much of the day is passed in him pointing at an object in the house, in a book, out the window, anywhere his little eyes rest on, and questioning: "This?" We patiently touch the object and tell him what it is called. Traditionally, this game will endure anywhere from 20-50 "This?" at a time. Then we'll have a short rest, only to start it up again.
Luckily my patience hasn't worn thin yet, and I've seemed fairly able to cope with it. We'll see how things go a few kids and a few years down the road, but for now, I'm doing okay. And even though Colin's not speaking yet, I'm betting that one day he'll wake up and have this huge vocabulary we've built in his head and he'll just start talking as if he'd been doing it his whole life.
There are leaves on the trees
There are finally leaves on the trees outside my bedroom window.
Most of you probably think this is a fairly obvious statement, considering it's mid-May and by all accounts leaves on trees in May is not an unusual thing.
I have had the opportunity, however, to watch the bare branches of winter bloom into the shade-giving trees of spring. Much of the last two months I spent in bed were also passed in a fair amount of pain that made doing almost anything unbearable. So I spent most days staring out the window of our 5th floor apartment at the tree that stands outside. One day I noticed the bare branches had tiny little nubs on them, almost like little beetles. Slowly more and more nubs appeared, and each of these slowly grew into buds. Then the buds flowered (reminding me of "Popcorn Popping", an old Primary song from my childhood). Then...nothing. For weeks and weeks and weeks the little flowers appeared to have stopped growing. I would try to convince myself that I could see something emerging from them, but a closer look revealed nothing.
Then one day last week I woke up and looked out the window and was amazed at the pale green garden of leaves that had burst from the blossoms. Literally overnight, what I had been waiting for for so long, had happened.
Now I look out the window and wish for the beautiful white and pink blossoms again. There are a few late bloomers, some leaves still waiting to grow. I strangely find myself cheering them on, and yet reveling in their infancy.
Once again I have learned a life lesson in the beauty of nature. As much as I can't wait for the day when Colin can communicate with us, or when we can kick around a soccer ball, or I can help him with his homework, I'm realizing that one day (overnight) he'll be grown and I'll long for the days when a smile broke across his face when I woke him in the morning. I'll miss the days when he pulled me over to a chair, climbed up on my lap and plunked down five or six books for reading.
I can't believe I've already passed 26 years of life, which I'm sure has gone by even faster for my parents. I know that then next 26 years will be gone before I know it, so I'm going to spend more time on today and less time worrying about tomorrow. Let tomorrow take care of itself.
Most of you probably think this is a fairly obvious statement, considering it's mid-May and by all accounts leaves on trees in May is not an unusual thing.
I have had the opportunity, however, to watch the bare branches of winter bloom into the shade-giving trees of spring. Much of the last two months I spent in bed were also passed in a fair amount of pain that made doing almost anything unbearable. So I spent most days staring out the window of our 5th floor apartment at the tree that stands outside. One day I noticed the bare branches had tiny little nubs on them, almost like little beetles. Slowly more and more nubs appeared, and each of these slowly grew into buds. Then the buds flowered (reminding me of "Popcorn Popping", an old Primary song from my childhood). Then...nothing. For weeks and weeks and weeks the little flowers appeared to have stopped growing. I would try to convince myself that I could see something emerging from them, but a closer look revealed nothing.
Then one day last week I woke up and looked out the window and was amazed at the pale green garden of leaves that had burst from the blossoms. Literally overnight, what I had been waiting for for so long, had happened.
Now I look out the window and wish for the beautiful white and pink blossoms again. There are a few late bloomers, some leaves still waiting to grow. I strangely find myself cheering them on, and yet reveling in their infancy.
Once again I have learned a life lesson in the beauty of nature. As much as I can't wait for the day when Colin can communicate with us, or when we can kick around a soccer ball, or I can help him with his homework, I'm realizing that one day (overnight) he'll be grown and I'll long for the days when a smile broke across his face when I woke him in the morning. I'll miss the days when he pulled me over to a chair, climbed up on my lap and plunked down five or six books for reading.
I can't believe I've already passed 26 years of life, which I'm sure has gone by even faster for my parents. I know that then next 26 years will be gone before I know it, so I'm going to spend more time on today and less time worrying about tomorrow. Let tomorrow take care of itself.
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