Being a Mature Adult

In my opinion, a mature adult:

-open to new ideas

-not prejudiced against race, lifestyles, religions, etc.

-living as an example of their beliefs

-willing to agree to disagree

-thinks revenge is unnecessary

-keeps negative comments to self

-yet can be honest in a positive or kind way

-compassionate

-shows appreciation for the service given to them

-humble enough to accept help

-able to give without expecting anything in return

-capable of saying no when needed

-able to say yes when appropriate

-keeps all obligations agreed to or makes arrangements as needed to change them

-accountable for their actions; does not blame others for the poor life choices they have made

-defends those who cannot for themselves (i.e.children, disabled, shy, emotionally distressed etc)
-doesn't complain but looks for solutions
-accepts change as a reliable constant

-speaks up for themselves without arguing

-stands up for their beliefs/standards etc in a peaceful manner

-not passive-aggressive

-recognizes their own faults and is willing to work on improving themselves

-accepts and loves themselves in a humble way and not afraid to show their self-acceptance

-willing to laugh at themselves; not take self too seriously

-has a great work ethic

-willing to go the extra mile, offer help

-does service without needing/desiring recognition

-gives a kind word to all they know or meet

-refrains from beginning or spreading gossip

-refrains from foul language

-may feel hurt but lets go of negative comments others have made

-open to love and gives love and friendship

-knows that modesty is a choice not everyone is taught and looks past the clothing of others to get to know the person

-willing to let go of a negative first impression to find the good in others

-may be vulnerable

-forgives

-willing to mentor those who need/want someone to learn from and not be self righteous about it

-humble and willing to apologize

-makes mistakes, does all can to fix them or learn from them and moves on
-is humble enough to acknowledge a Higher Power exists.

I still aspire to be all these things. Everyone has all these potentials within and may have mastered some, many or all of these things. There has only been one perfect human on this earth. He lived more than two thousand years ago. He is my example. I love our Savior, Jesus Christ. I am sorry to anyone I may offend with my less than perfect behavior. I offer my gratitude to all those who call me friend.

Financial Stress

So, I've been very worried about finances lately but it really hit me how broke we are today. I had myself an actual crying meltdown. Luckily my husband had just come home from school and took over with the kids so I could sob in private. Why is it after a good long cry I feel exhausted. Seriously, I feel like I can barely keep my eyes open. There were lots of other little things getting to me but when I saw the bank balance today, I lost it. I know we are not the only struggling family but it's still a huge problem for us.

I run a licensed daycare in my home. For the most part we have had ups and downs with kids coming and going but this has been the toughest financial dry spell we've had. Currently there are 3 kids coming full time but we need 5 to stay afloat (I'm licensed to watch 8). Jason goes to school full time and works nights part time. I have the daycare and go to school in the evenings. I also sell Avon, DoTerra, and sew for a local boutique. My Avon and DoTerra sales are virtually nil and the sewing isn't steady. I am at a loss as to what else to do with the little free time I have left in a week. My husband suggested he quit school to go back to working full time. That was sweet but he is so close to finishing college, just a year and a half left. I have not gone through supporting our family this long while he's at school only to have him quit so near the end. I told him I would leave him if he did that...and I meant it.

I started going to Marinello's School of Beauty this past May. I will be finished by the end of next summer. At the moment that seems so far away. I am studying to be an Esthetician. I prayed a lot about going back to school and I felt spiritually shoved in this direction of education. I am loving school and all that I am learning. For me it has been a delight. I am hoping it will lead to a steady income once I have graduated.

In the mean time, what now? I am going to distribute more flyers in local stores and even branch out to schools and may even go door to door.

All I ask for in the way of help are your prayers.

An Uplifting Story

This was sent to me in an email. I couldn't help but get teary and feel uplifted while reading this story:

This is an excerpt from A Place of Knowing by Emma Lou Thayne

Many years into my adulthood, when asked by a Jewish poet friend why I stay in my Mormonism, I explained it with a story, the details recounted by my mother. It is my mother’s story transposed into an allegory about my believing.
When I was a little girl, my father took me to hear Helen Keller in the Tabernacle. I must have been about eight or nine and I’d read about Helen Keller in school, and my mother had told me her story.
I remember sitting in the balcony at the back of that huge domed building that was supposed to have the best acoustics in the world. Helen—everybody called her that—walked in from behind a curtain under the choir seats with her teacher, Annie Sullivan. Helen spoke at the pulpit—without a microphone—but we could hear perfectly, her guttural, slow, heavily pronounced speech. She spoke about her life and her beliefs. Her eyes were closed and when it came time for questions from the audience, she put her fingers on her teacher’s lips and then repeated for us what the question had been. She answered
questions about being deaf and blind and learning to read and to type and, of course, to talk. Hearing that voice making words was like hearing words for the first time, as if language had only come into being—into my being at least—that moment.
Someone asked her, “Do you feel colors?”
I’ll never forget her answer, the exact sound of it—“Some-times
. .. . I feel . . . blue.” Her voice went up slightly at the end, which
meant she was smiling. The audience didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
After quite a lot of questions, she said, “I would . . .. like to ask . . . a fa-vor of you.” Of course, the audience was all alert. “Is your Mormon prophet here?” she asked. There was a flurry of getting up from the front row, and President Grant walked up the stairs to the stand. She reached out her hand and he took it. All I could think was, “Oh, I wish I were taking pictures of that.”
“I . . . would like . . . ,” she said, “to hear your organ . . . play .. . your fa-mous song—about your pio-neers. I . . . would like . . . to re-mem-ber hear-ing it here.” All the time she was speaking she was holding his hand he had given her to shake. I liked them together, very much.
I remember thinking, “I am only a little girl (probably others know) but how in the world will she hear the organ?” But she turned toward President Grant and he motioned to Alexander Schreiner, the Tabernacle organist who was sitting near the loft. At the same time, President Grant led her up a few steps to the back of the enormous organ—with its five manuals and eight thousand pipes. We were all spellbound. He placed her hand on the grained oak of the console, and she stood all alone facing us in her long, black velvet dress with her right arm extended, leaning slightly forward and touching the organ, with her head bowed.
Brother Schreiner played “Come, Come, Ye Saints,” each verse a different arrangement, the organ pealing and throbbing—the bass pedals like foghorns—as only he could make happen. Helen Keller stood there—hearing through her hand and sobbing.
Probably a lot more than just me—probably lots of us in the audience were mouthing the words to ourselves—
“Gird up your loins; fresh courage take. / Our God will never us forsake; / And soon we’ll have this tale to tell— / All is well! / All is well!” I could see my great-grandparents, converts from England, Wales, France, and Denmark, in that circle of their covered wagons, singing over their fires in the cold nights crossing the plains. Three of them had babies die; my great-grandmother was buried in Wyoming.
“And should we die before our journey’s through, / Happy day! / All is well! / We then are free from toil and sorrow, too; / With the just we shall dwell! / But
if our lives are spared again / To see the Saints their rest obtain, / Oh, how we’ll make this chorus swell— / All is well! / All is well!”
So then—that tabernacle, that singing, my ancestors welling in me, my father beside me, that magnificent woman, all combined with the organ and the man who played it and the man who had led her to it—whatever passed between the organ and her passed on to me.
I believed. I believed it all—the seeing without seeing, the hearing without hearing, the going by feel toward something holy, something that could make her cry, something that could move me, alter me, something as unexplainable as a vision or a mystic connection, something entering the pulse of a little girl, something that no matter what would never go away. What it had to do with Joseph Smith or his vision or his gospel I never would really understand—all I know to this day is that I believe.

Emma Lou Thayne wrote Hymn # 129, Where Can I Turn for Peace ...

4th of July Nostalgia

I love the fun of the 4th of July celebrating our nation's birth and patriotism. This year though was more of a celebration of lives lived and an end to a beloved family tradition -

watching fireworks at Grandma-Great's. My husband's grandparents bought a sweet little home in 1953. Just beyond their back fence is a lovely park where their city's fireworks show is every year. I regret we didn't get to go every year but Jason and I went many times since we've been together.

There have been many 'first time without grandma' going on since she passed away a few months ago and for me this one was a bit more difficult. I was fine when we got there but Jason gave me a tour of the yard he practically grew up in, relating to me the stories of what happened and where. I realized that it was the last time he'd likely have to be there doing this. It was a play-land of happy memories. Nearly every nook and cranny had a story. It made me think of all the kids that grew up there with their own stories too (his mother and all her siblings). It was a true family home and sometime next year it will likely be sold and be given a breath of new life with someone else's family.

I took a picture of each site (I will only post a few) Jason related a story about. I won't go into any major detail because they are his stories to tell. My favorite though was the burial ground of his very well loved stuffed animal, Snoopy, he had named Dog. He loved it so well nearly all the beads had fallen out and it had become quite raggedy. It was time to let Dog rest in peace so they buried him in the back yard. Jason thinks he may have been about 5 years old at the time. So sweet.

The fireworks show was great. Rachel had a grand time playing with some cousins but when we asked her to sit and watch the fireworks, her response was, "I had enough of fireworks. I want to play now." My kid cracks me up.

In all that went on, my favorite part of this 4th of July was spending time with my husband, hearing all the stories of his childhood. Time moves on, things change, but we will always have our memories.

The Book Of Mormon

I haven't always been an active member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I was proud and selfish, into doing my own thing and trying more worldly ways. Granted the world has some ways that are fun but always left me feeling hollow and a bit lost by the end of the day. I began to feel my spirit was a great chasm of darkness. I felt lost.

Oddly enough, through this lonely road of exploration, I always felt there was a God, he loved me, and I continued to pray daily to Him. I felt His Spirit here and there. Then one day, I couldn't feel His presence in my life at all. I knew I had hit rock bottom. I wasn't wild (i.e. into drugs or drinking or those types of things). I just was into what I wanted not what He did. I felt the loss of Him in my life so poignantly, it made me ache inside. The loss of the Spirit is a place I never, ever plan to let myself be again.

At that point, in tears, I turned to a local Institute teacher for guidance. He gave me the advice to go have a talk with my Bishop to receive the guidance and instruction needed to get my life, my heart, and my spirit in tune with the Lord. I followed his wise advice and began a process of repentance I have never regretted.

My bishop asked me to follow all the pat sunday school answers: read the scriptures, sincerely pray through out each day, make friends with those that share the values I aspired to live, read good books, attend church meetings, etc. I had a hard time with the going to church thing because I felt so different from everyone there. So I started with reading the scriptures. I had never read the Book of Mormon from cover to cover before. I began reading a verse a day and then felt like my spirit was starving for what was within the pages of the Book of Mormon. I then not just feasted, but devoured the words. I let them sink into my mind and envelop my aching soul. The words within its pages, the stories, the guidance and insight were a balm to my broken and contrite spirit. I found healing and a new found respect for myself. I began reading it aloud with my grandmother so I could share this new found joy with someone I loved. We fell in love with the Book of Mormon together. I cherish those precious days with my Nonna. I may have already been a member of the church but I was finally a convert. My Nonna also become one but in the more literal sense and was baptized at the age of 71. I also began to study the New Testament and became more familiar with our Savior's teachings in both the Book of Mormon and the Bible. I could see so clearly how they complement and support each other as works of scripture and testaments of our Saviour, Jesus Christ, and his teachings to all people. I felt His and our Heavenly Father's love working in my life. I felt a return of the Holy Spirit. My heart began to fill with true joy and peace. The void, the chasm was filled with God's light and love; So much so, it was over flowing and I felt compelled to share it with others and chose to serve a full time mission.

Sure I have struggled with trials and temptations since that period of conversion but there is nothing the world has to offer that can even compare to the greatness of God's approval and comfort. I know God lives. He loves me. He loves you. We are His beloved children. He wants to fill our lives and hearts with His love and guidance. All we need do is turn to Him.

It can all start with:

"I Nephi, having been born of goodly parents, therefore I was taught somewhat in all the learning of my father; and having seen many afflictions in the course of my days, nevertheless, having been highly favored of the Lord in all my days; yea, having had a great knowledge of the goodness and the mysteries of God, therefore I make a record of my proceedings in my days."

-The First Book of Nephi : Chapter One-Verse One, The Book of Mormon

Wong Lives!

I love my husband's blog. He is witty and articulate. He tends to share more of himself in writing than he does in person. I miss his blog so much. He has put it on hold for a while. It was getting to be too much with school work and his job and home stuff. I hope he goes back to writing again sooner than later. If you haven't read his brilliance yet, check it out at:

http://wonglives.blogspot.com/

Enjoy!

Easter Weekend

I am grateful for a Savior and a time to celebrate his life works and the Atonement. Then there are the more secular celebrations with baskets full of candy and hunting for festive colored eggs. We have been struggling financially for several months now but this past month has been the most difficult. I was feeling kind of sorry for myself/us, so I posted a silly status on my facebook page,

"The Easter Bunny has made cut-backs this year. He won't be making it to our house. Maybe next year. *sigh*"

I didn't really give much thought to what kind of response I would get when I posted it. Then throughout the weekend four loving Easter bunnies came by with baskets of gifts and goodies for our daughter. One even came with a very large (laundry size) basket filled with groceries for a holiday dinner. We couldn't afford anything special for our holiday dinner and I had planned something simple like pasta. We were also extended an invitation to an Easter egg hunt.

How touched I am by the kindness of others we have been blessed with. I was brought to weepy tears of gratitude for them and to my Heavenly Father for sending these angels among us. I was quite humbled.

If one of these angels are reading this, Thank You much for renewing my hope and filling my heart with greater love.