grace

"Davis, why are you dragging the rug upstairs?"
"I need it to make my guy."
"You can't take the rug upstairs, sweetie. Put it back in the kitchen."
"Oh, man!"

This conversation happened this afternoon and I didn't really think much of it. Unfortunately, many conversations I have with my bitty boo are like this: vague, nonsensical (it seems), and dismissed. He is hard to understand. Even though I can decipher so many more words now than I could a year ago, it is still often hard to catch exactly what he means, his intent, his heart.

In so many ways, my boy is so very capable. He is sometimes frustratingly independent... helping himself to whatever he wants in the kitchen; finding the hidden remote and turning on a show; trying to clean up messes on his own (and making a bigger one in the process). But, when it comes to words, it is often a guessing game for me.

I know there is so much going on in that head of his. Every day he surprises me with something he says, revealing something he knows that I didn't know he knew, but that he is very much old enough to know. He is nearly 5, but I often forget what my other kids did at that age. It is easy to treat him like someone much younger.

Tonight, when I walked into his room to help with the bedtime routine, I saw his "guy. He really was working on something.  It is hard to tell in the picture below, but he had taken the bathroom towels and stuffed them in the shirt and pants. He had tucked the pants bottoms into his shoes and borrowed Daddy's gloves from the garage for hands. I'm not sure what plan he had for the kitchen rug when I intervened, but my boy had, in fact, been making a 'guy' and I had dismissed it as something I wasn't understanding. Again.

I'm kind of a slow learner. I have been taught this lesson with Davis before: to listen and pay attention and not dismiss his words as something unintelligible. I'm sure my boy gets frustrated with a mom who can't seem to understand what is going on in his active, intelligent mind.

I'm just as sure that my Father in Heaven gets frustrated with me, too, as He attempts to teach me the same lessons, over and over again; the lessons of patience, love, charity, humility. I have been given experiences that should have (and did, for a time, usually) produced these things in me, and yet, often I fail to remember those lessons, those virtues. I am too quick to anger, too unkind, too selfish. But, just like my sweet boy seems to always give me another day, another chance, to figure it out, my Father keeps sending me chances to finally learn these lessons of life.

And, that is grace.

Me and My Double Life

This morning, after scriptures, Kate turned to me and said, "It would be so weird to be like you and have two lives." Hmmm...did she think I was secretly a spy?  She continued, "Because, you know, you and dad lived in the olden times, when there wasn't anything and then you had to get used to now days where we have iPads and stuff."

Yeah...that is one way to make your mother feel old.


In other news: I am a lousy blogger as of late, but am loving the world of 'micro blogging' that is Instagram. If you want, you can catch me, and lots of baby pics, there. @adrimurdock

Annie

'officially' announcing baby...

Baby

My new little one.

Isn't she amazing?

Dads

This Father's Day video had me in tears.  I'm so grateful to the wonderful men and fathers who have influenced  my life for good.  And, I'm especially grateful for my own amazing dad and my super partner in parenthood for the sacrifices they make in the name of fatherhood.

mercy

I haven't felt like writing lately.  I've been busy, yes.  I've been tired. But, mostly I've been uninspired.  Which is primarily because I haven't been looking for inspiration.  I have found that whenever I look, I almost always find something that uplifts, enlightens and inspires me.  When I'm too busy doing whatever needs to be done, I miss all those little moments.  It is easy to do, and a careless habit I fall into much too quickly.  But, over the last couple days I've been praying to be more aware of the goodness in my life. And, just like that, the tender mercies abound.

This morning, like most week-day mornings, was a rush. We have to leave the house by 8:05 am at the latest in order to have enough time to drive Davis to preschool (through two major, long-stoplight intersections) by 8:15am and still make it back to the elementary school (back through the long lights) by the 8:35am bell.  At 8:04am Kate and Davis were still not dressed.  (Neither was Lea, but she can ride in her pjs and no one minds).  We finally pulled out of the driveway at 8:14am and I was in a foul mood.  I hate rushing (yet spend the bulk of my life doing it). I was annoyed at children who dawdle.

Usually I have a book on CD in the car so the kids can spend the 30 minutes listening to a fun story.  But, I didn't have one today, so we popped in Primary songs.  Despite my love of the sweet, simple messages in this music, my heart was still barred behind the walls of my bad mood.  We made it to preschool at 8:24 am. I dashed Davis through the rain and dumped him off in his room (probably a little too quickly).  I jumped back in the car and started to zip out of the parking lot. Rushing.

Then, the song "A Child's Prayer" came on the player.  The three kids in the back started singing, and when it came to the third verse, they split, Kate singing one part and Dallin singing another in perfect, child-like harmony.  The Spirit flooded the car, and my heart, and even my foul mood couldn't keep the tenderness away.  By some kind of miracle, both lights at the long-light intersections were green.  We drove from preschool to elementary school in a record 5 minutes, and the kids bounded out of the car with at least 30 seconds to spare before the bell.  Mercy.

Goodness abounds.  And, sometimes the Lord is willing to answer my prayers to see it, despite my hard heart, bad mood and unwilling soul.

My dad has always been a good gifter, and Valentine's day is no exception.  When I was a girl, he always had a little surprise for me: a necklace, a treat, and, one year, when I was probably 7 or 8, "The Queen of Hearts Maze Book." 

I thought the maze book was a treasure. Each page had an intricately created maze and a rhyming poem, and I loved it. I loved it so much, that I never wanted to actually WRITE in it.  I solved the mazes with my finger, over and over, but would never ruin the beauty of my book with a pencil.

I saved my maze book.  It made its way into my Valentine's box year after year, and this year, my own 8-year-old found it. She immediately headed upstairs to find a pencil to work out the mazes, not at all thinking that this must be a treasure, which is why it has such pristine pages. To her, it looked like fun.

As she sat at the counter, working the puzzles, I fought  back my instinct to stop her; to teach her the 'value' in doing mazes with your finger instead of a pencil.  But, I didn't. The book has been around over 25 years. It is about time it was actually used.

It got me thinking about my 'saving' ways.  Saving, of course, can be such a good thing. But, I think I fall into the manic side of the spectrum.  At least, I used to.  As a kid I had a huge stash of 'saved' stuff: stickers I never wanted to waste on a page, crayons I couldn't possibly ruin by using them, candy hoarded for another day.  As I've gotten older, I have tried not to save to the extreme.  I have decided it is okay to use the nice dishes; to wear the new nylons instead of making due with the ones that have the holes in the toes; to use up the pretty paper to make a card for a friend.  After all, if I save it too long, the dishes will just be dusty and old, the nylons might lose their elastic waist, and the pretty paper will look out-dated and frumpy. (Not that I know any of this from experience!)

So, here's to enjoying the beauty of today.
And, finally finishing up that maze book.