generations...

my granny used to call me "sheet-up."  she was brown and proud.  and her accent always made me laugh.  (sheet-up = shut up).  but when she would visit from texas, she would always say "oh, sheet-up!" and give me a sweet hug.  if she knew i was coming, she'd have a freshly made batch of warm tortillas wrapped in a dish towel.  if she didn't know i was coming, she'd start making them when i walked in.  i still can't make tortillas that tasted like hers, even with the same recipe.

she was average height.  salt and pepper hair which she wore just at ear length and parted in the middle.  sometimes she had bangs.  she always wore these canvas shoes that look somewhat like toms - way ahead of her time - either white, or black or navy blue.  i can remember years shown in wrinkles on her face, and her hands. i can remember how she smelled.  she liked to play skee-bo (skip-bo), chalupa, and bingo.  and she "never cheated."

my granny was my biggest fan.  she was my mom's grandma and was quick to tell her when she was treating me poorly.  i was perfect in every way.  to her, nothing was my fault.  and i could have anything i wanted.


the last time i saw my granny, i was 11 weeks pregnant with the twins.  bobby was 2 and a half.  that seems so long ago.  i remember taking bobby into her house that doesn't compare to anything here in california.  it was steps from a railroad track.  literally, steps.  the house shook when the train went by.  it was built sturdy, but looked rickety.  there were two rooms and they were very small.  the rooms and kitchen compared to the size of large closets.  i don't think it occurred to me it would be the last time i would go there.  i am glad i was able to take my son.  but he was 2.  and the house wasn't made for him.  i disciplined him alot.  for touching this.  for climbing on that.  as i tried to talk to my granny, i could tell she was mad.  she wasn't responding to me.  she would move her hand if i tried to touch her.  she would love on bobby when he would come to her, but would not acknowledge me at all.  i soon realized she was mad at me for how i was discipling my son.  because he was perfect.  to her, nothing was his fault.  and he could do and have anything he wanted.

my granny died the day i was admitted to the hospital to be put on bed rest during my pregnancy with the twins.  i think of her a lot.  i still have a music box she gifted me from a garage sale.  i have knitted plastic squares that she made coasters and placemats gifted for my wedding.  my granny didn't have much.  but she spoiled me in every way she could.

i miss her and think of her every. single. day.

this last week i was talking to my grandma about choices bobby was making during classtime (ie making a catapult in his class with a pencil and flying crayons).  she laughed.  and her response was, "well, if the teacher was teaching or keeping him busy, then he wouldn't have time do that."

oh, to have a great-grandmother.

my boys sure are lucky to "be perfect."

inspiration...

"Behold, my soul delighteth in the things of the Lord; and my heart pondereth continually upon the things which I have seen and heard.

Nevertheless, notwithstanding the great goodness of the Lord, in showing me his great and marvelous works, my heart exclaimeth: O wretched man that I am!  Yea, my heart sorroweth because of my flesh; my soul grieveth because of my iniquities.

I am encompassed about, because of the temptations and the sins which do so easily beset me.

And when I desire to rejoice, my heart groaneth because of my sins; nevertheless, I know in whom I have trusted.

My God hath been my support; he hath led me through mine afflictions in the wilderness; and he hath preserved me upon the waters of the great deep.

He hath filled me with his love even unto the consuming of my flesh.

He hath confounded mine enemies, unto the causing of them to quake before me.

Behold, he hath heard my cry by day, and he hath given me knowledge by visions in the night-time.

And by day have I waxed bold in mighty prayer before him; yea, my voice have I sent up on high; and angels came down and ministered unto me.

And upon the wings of his Spirit hath my body been carried away upon exceedingly high mountains. And mine eye have beheld great things, yea, even too great for man; therefore I was bidden that I should not write them.

O then, if I have seen so great things, if the Lord in his condescension unto the children of men hath visited men in so much mercy, why should my heart weep and my soul linger in the valley of sorrow, and my flesh waste away, and my strength slacken, because of mine afflictions?

And why should I yield to sin, because of my flesh? Yea, why should I give way to temptations, that the evil one have place in my heart to destroy my peace and afflict my soul? Why am I angry because of mine enemy?

Awake, my soul! No longer droop in sin. Rejoice, O my heart, and give place no more for the enemy of my soul.

Do not anger again because of mine enemies. Do not slacken my strength because of mine afflictions.

Rejoice, O my heart, and cry unto the Lord, and say: O Lord, I will praise thee forever; yea, my soul will rejoice in thee, my God, and the rock of my salvation."

shooting stars...

the other night i saw a shooting star.
it was the longest shooting star
i had ever seen.
i had enough time to think,
"wow, this is really long,"
and then have it still continue.
at the time i was in very deep thought.
about life.
about death.
about people.
about relationships.
but i saw this star,
and when it finally fell out of sight,
i looked in my mirror
to see
one of my little boys
in the back seat.

the little boy
that cried to go with me
to the store.
the store of all places.
at 930 at night.
(i know it was a delay of bed tactic.
the store = really desperate.)

my point is,
i could take him.

i am so grateful for my life.
i am grateful for my trials.
i am grateful for the perspectives they have given me.
i am grateful for knowledge i've gained,
and experiences that i've been able to...
experience.
i'm grateful for the capability to laugh again.
because there was a time,
i didn't know if i would be able to.
but i can see the joy in this life.
without the pain.

finding balance.
in this imperfect world.
with a perfect perception.

i'm hard on myself...

i think most of us are our own worst critics.

i mean, we are the only one that knows what we are thinking and feeling and saying and doing. and we remember most of it. and have the time to dwell on it.

i wish some days i could wake up and just ... be. and be comfortable with who i am and where i'm at in my life and in my head. and feel comfortable with my trials. and not worry about what people think or say or feel.

i'm sure i'm not alone in this.

am i?

it may sound silly, but i miss how i felt when i had cancer. this does not by any means i want it back. :) but, i miss my testimony. i miss my faith. i miss my reliance on my Savior. i miss seeing His witness in everything from a sunrise to a meal brought, to a smile on my children's faces, and to people serving each other sincerely and not dutifully.

i haven't forgotten what i witnessed. if anything, i remember it more. t's hard for me to lighten up. i feel serious. and uptight. because really, i'm still scared of my unknown future.

and i guess that is what it boils down to.

fear.

and as much i learned fear and faith cannot coincide, sometimes they very much do.

i know my body. i have "predicted" much of what has happened to me. and i find it funny now around new people (since we moved) telling me, "oh, you're fine. be positive." they don't know my history. they don't know my intuition. and really, they don't know me.

i have hope. and i believe. and i know.

now, i want to just be.