Finding it

Just this afternoon I was looking for the microwave cover that we put over our plates to prevent splatters (please don’t barrage me with why that’s bad for our food and us, I’ve read the same stuff) but it wasn’t in the usual places, namely in our microwave, on top of our microwave, or in the sink.  But why on earth would I spend good time fretting about it, validating myself with, “I know it’s here.  Where else would it be?  It’s got to be around here somewhere.”  I already knew that.  I knew it’d show up.  It’s big and visible.  Who knows why items are in weird places in our house sometimes?  Like the Dawn dish soap on the edge of the jetted tub?  Regular-sized, orange-handled scissors in my make-up drawer in the bathroom?  Old nylons with the bee equipment?  (If you must know, a) they were washing our puppy and that was the least smelly soap we could think of; we didn’t want it trying to rub the smell of flowers or Axe off in the muddy grass. b) I like to have scissors nearby to cut my tubes of cream and foundation in half so I can get to the rest of the stuff inside—you know how I hate to waste, and I hate those loops of fabric or ribbon inside all my clothes, so it’s nice to have a way to get rid of them, plus I like to have scissors close so I can wrap gifts in my room.  c) The nylons are for straining the wax and impurities from the honey Todd collects.) 

Anyway, point being, I knew there was a logical reason our cover wasn’t nearby.  It’d show up.  I knew if I would just go about my regular tidying up, it would present itself in an obvious manner.  Which it did.  Later on I was emptying the dishwasher and it was right there, all clean, ready to go.  I’d almost forgotten I was even looking for it but was glad to have it back.

And our kids all know the drill.  When they come looking for something, they seem to stop and almost chant along with me, rolling their eyes (of course), “Clean up to find it.”  I guess it’s the efficient side of me, but I can’t stand spending time looking for items I know are here but that I just can’t seem to find.  The quickest and easiest way I know to find something I’ve misplaced is to simply go about my regular cleaning up, putting things in their places, just continuing on with life, not stressing about it.  It’s bound to show up eventually, I just can’t see why I’d let something like that get under my skin.

As I was continuing with my cleaning and tidying and emptying the dishwasher this afternoon, I thought how true this is with the questions we have in life.  Even with something as valuable as a tax document (still waiting to see where I put the vehicle registrations) or a foundational concern like “Why did He let that happen?”, we can essentially move on and quit stressing.  We do this by “cleaning up” (and by asking for a little help).

Just as I need to file my papers in order to find lost documents (done, I know I put them somewhere safe) or unload the van to find my lipstick tubes I’ve lost (on my list), we need to continue to do our part to find what we’ve lost in other realms of life.  “Cleaning up” is simply putting ourselves in order, doing what we have control over, and giving up the stress of not knowing.

To me, that means keeping up with the basics:  dishes, laundry, filing, so that things don’t pile up until we don’t have a chance in the world of finding anything.  Likewise, it means keeping up with the spiritual basics:  talking to God, reading and learning about Christ, living like Him.  If we’re far from Him, how can we expect to recognize an answer from Him even when it’s right in front of us? That’s all stuff we can control.  Maybe someone moved the flat iron or the drill without telling you, maybe you just haven’t heard much about what happens after this life.  Let it go.  It will all surface in due time.  Even when it’s important, leave it for now.  Is it really that urgent?  Worth the negative energy?  Getting upset over?  If your ring is in the little cap of your crockery on the counter and you just don’t remember that, it will still be there days from now.  Don’t go ruining everyone’s today making them all late simply because you have got to find it before you leave.  Settle. It will still be there, it will all work out.  Likewise, don’t pummel God because you didn’t get an answer the first time you asked and you’ve absolutely got to know today or else you’re done.  That’s dumb.  You should know by now He doesn’t work like that.  His ways are perfect, in their manner and in their timing.  Settle.  You’ll find your answers, they aren’t going anywhere.  Just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t there.  They haven’t moved.

The interesting thing, the thing I can’t get over, is how often He helps me find whatever I’m looking for.  I hesitate to ask, especially with the little things.  I figure He’s got a universe to run, helping me find a book I know I own to loan my friend or my running shoe insert the dogs had been chewing on or just the quote I’d been thinking of should be pretty low on His To-Do List for the day. But I’m amazed, blown away, by how He comes through for me.  I’m in awe of how often my questions are answered (eventually), but it’s more noticeable when I’ve asked for help with something.  Even in a tiny, only-if-you-have-time-and-don’t-have-anything-else-going-on sort of way.  I try to write them down, which is how I know how often this happens.  Just this week I was getting frustrated trying to find an audio book to listen to while I painted, I’d spent a good fifteen minutes wasting my time on figuring this out, and then I thought to test Him, maybe He could help.  A quick, almost non-question, I was so embarrassed by how lame and unimportant it was.  Immediately—I mean immediately—an idea came to my mind.  Not just a random book idea, but the perfect book idea.

Maybe trite to think of all the items I can’t quite put my finger on as being on par with life’s questions that I just can’t make sense of or that I still don’t answers to still.  And yet, I know it’s a technique that’s always worked for me.  I keep my eyes open for the items that I’ve lost, and I keep a list of questions about life and death in the backs of my journals.  Every now and then I’ll find an item or an answer and immediately smile. I nearly chuckle as I thank God, because it was all so obviously there the whole time.  A million confirmations that He’s there. Just interesting how, as we put our worries aside for a time and refuse to get all worked up about them, as we go about our regular life, doing our small part to carry on with life, “cleaning” as we go, eventually we find what we were looking for.

Settle

The question posed to us most frequently—and obviously—these days is if we’re “all moved in,” are we “settled.”  I know it’s not meant to be a thought-provoking conversation starter, just more of a warm-up, a benign pleasantry.  But you know me, I’ve got to be honest.  And so I’m sort of at a loss as to what to say.

I mean, of course all our boxes have been shuttled from our newish old house to our new oldish house.  There are none in our friend’s trailer that’s still parked (lodged in snow is more apt) out front weeks later. Todd finally brought in the final bits from the car now that the trunk is no longer frozen shut.  We’ve been functioning, we’re getting into a routine.  But “moved in”?  “Settled”?  I might say something like,  “Pretty much.” Or maybe, “Mostly.”  But then sheepishly admit, “Not exactly.”

Because as we were setting up rooms beginning on December 15th, our sons were also tearing down trim.  And painting even through Christmas Eve.  Just as we finish up one room or project, we’re starting on another, necessitating shuffling boxes around, putting the unpacking of several on hold; they’ve become permanent fixtures in the middle of the hallway.

We’ve shared our bedrooms with our red air compressor, orange shop vac, and an assortment of hand and power tools for weeks now.  Decorations, puzzles, sleeping bags, and a million books are still packed in boxes we’ve peeked into but haven’t committed to unloading.

We’ve entertained a constant stream of traffic ever since we moved during that blessed blizzard. Around 40 people came that first night to help us move in on one of the snowiest weekends of our lives.  Our college son flew in the next night and more family flew in throughout the following week.  Where everyone should sleep, what beds they’d use, finding all the sheets and blankets, buying mattress covers and new pillows, freshening it all up, making it look like we didn’t just move in four days ago kept me from unpacking like I needed to.  Christmas dinners to orchestrate.  New Year’s Eve gathering to host.  Various groups just for fun.  All the fix-it people: cabinet guy, chimney sweep, plumber, internet guy, two different flooring people, the interior decorator friend.  The phone calls.  All sorts of package guys.  (Most amusing one yet was the package I found in between one of our six exterior doors and its screen just the other day, delivered way back at Christmastime.  I might not have found it till spring if I hadn’t been painting that door.)  Beyond that, every friend who’s come to play has a family who wants to see our fixer upper.  It’s rarely clean.  And why is my bed never made on those days?  And why is it always laundry day? We usually run into dog puddles.  I tell them to keep their shoes on; they’ll need protection.  But don’t worry, I console them; you can’t hurt this plastic laminate floor from 1984.

We switched all our insurance policies the day we closed; good grief.  Well shares, ditch rights, septic to call on.  Learning about reverse osmosis.  How much salt?  What light switches go to which lights?  Do the blinds even work?  Why is there so much wind coming through our windows?  Motion lights? What’s with this thermostat that looks like it came connected to the house back in 1984?  Why are there so many outlets up and down the walls?  And just two in the entire shop?  Old cable boxes and phone jacks.  Just so many nuances to a new old house.  A new discovery almost daily.

And I don’t know why, but I’m not motivated to clean it the way I was with our old house.  I think because there are so many on-going projects and materials in the way, so many daily dog accidents, dirt that was already here, windows that are broken, I just feel like it won’t look really clean no matter how much elbow grease I apply.  The showers are old and sort of corroded, layered with rust and permanent soap scum. I’m afraid to go too far into the cabinetry or to really dislodge the grime along the edges of the kitchen floor.  And I can’t keep up with the hair from three dogs or the mud from everyone who traipses through.

We added a new puppy January 2nd to the other two dogs and a cat.  We just set up 5 dozen chicken eggs on our kitchen table that will hatch in exactly 21 days.  Cows this Spring.

So are we “moved in”?  “Settled?”  Yes and no.  Yes, we’ve made the transition, just like when you have a baby or the kids go back to school or come home for the summer.   You let out the breath you were unconsciously holding, relieved that part’s over.  But now what?  And what does it really mean to feel settled?  Is it possible?

Again, I have to say yes and no.

It depends on whether we’re relying on circumstances to determine our state of mind or if we’re wiling to look beyond what’s happening to center ourselves.  If we’re basing our definition on life without change, we’ll never arrive at that settled state.  We’ll always feel like we’re in commotion.  But thankfully we can feel calm inside when everything around us dictates otherwise.

I was thinking of this as the snows finally gave way to warmer temps.  I think I heard the whole state exhale; finally, we all said in unison.  Our thoughts turned to hopes of an early spring, we disregarded the whole groundhog nonsense, we knew we were in the midst of a warming trend and felt comfortable that we’d made it through another long winter.  But really, we’re in the first week of February.  In Montana.  There’s no way we were home free yet.  And that’s just how it unfolded.  Just the other day I got into my car at -8 degrees; my friend’s said -12, little matter, just frigid.  I nearly crashed head-on with a truck driving through iced-up windshield down the middle of a snow-filled narrow road with ambiguous boundaries.  I knew then to keep my gloves handy, it wasn’t time to wash the winter gear and store it all in the totes.  I knew better than to get comfy.

And yet, I felt somewhat peaceful.  I’d been down this road before.  About 100 times since we moved.  I know the slippery parts; I know how far to start slowing before our driveway and the intersection.  I hate that I can’t just coast, but I know I can do this.  For as long as winter decides to hang around.  I can’t hibernate and wait till the chill passes.  I can’t curse the snow and let the icy storms determine my cheerfulness.  No, I just pack on the layers and lace up my boots.  And let the van warm for a good twenty minutes before heading out.

I guess the lesson is this. Life can be a mess.  One after another.  And if we’re waiting for the dust to settle before we deem ourselves finally there, I’m afraid we’re going to be in a constant state of upset.  Because you all know how it goes.  The minute you think you’ve got a handle on a particular phase, whether it’s the newborn stage or the teenage stage, something comes along to sort of shake things up:  she starts teething or gets an ear infection that changes the sleeping arrangements.  He gets his license or a new job, and that gives everyone a little freedom but a little more to worry about.  Or you move or get a new assignment or you find out some bad news about a family member that brings on tears whenever you think about it.  In fact, I can almost predict tomorrow’s storm by the sunshine I’m feeling today.  I’ve even started preparing myself for the next shake-up by noticing when I’m feeling a little too comfy.  That’s one reason that buying this house felt right.  I’d been feeling too easy about things. But then I was hit not only with a move in the middle of Christmas, but other personal issues that blindsided me at the same time.  If I was counting on the season to tick away like a normal joyous Christmas with my family, I was unquestionably robbed.  Thankfully, it’s up to us to determine what each season of our life will be.  Not that we get to pick the variables, but we do get to choose how we respond to them.  

Looking back, it’s obvious the times I’ve felt peace and the times I’ve felt out of control have had little to do with circumstances and everything to do with what I’m doing in my personal life that sort of buffers the sting of whatever I’m facing.  I know this was huge as we were moving and dealing with so many things at once.  I knew we couldn’t have the traditional Christmas season like we all look forward to because so much of our normal Christmas stuff was packed. So we made it a high priority to regularly talk of Christ and gather as a family and read about Him even if it was short or late at night.  We also continued reading about Him on our own and I inched my way through a book about the atonement most days, just a short chapter that left me something to ponder in the middle of packing and cleaning and painting.  I realized how powerful and valuable those small acts became. “As you dedicate time every day, personally and with your family, to the study of God’s word, peace will prevail in your life.  That peace won’t come from the outside world.  It will come from within your home, from within your family, from within your own heart.  It will be a gift of the Spirit.  It will radiate out from you to influence others in the world around you.  You will be doing something very significant to add to the cumulative peace in the world” (Elder Scott).

I realize the blessing those words have been for me in my life.  Sometimes I feel upset inside even when the details of my life should point to tranquility.  I’ve found that strange, and I remember a woman confiding in me years ago that she had everything she ever wanted and still felt unsettled.  I just don’t believe we can count on outside factors to bring us peace.  In our case, the chaos of moving and having company didn’t settle down for quite awhile; we’re still in the middle of ripping out trim, painting, pulling out floors, puppy training, and hosting all sorts of groups of friends. In fact, the personal issues we worried about over Christmas are still with us, without resolution.  

And yet, I feel immense peace.  I felt teary recently when someone at church quoted President Hinckley, who reminded us, “It isn’t as bad as you sometimes think it is.  It all works out.  Don’t worry.  I say that to myself every morning.  It will all work out.  Put your trust in God and move forward with faith and confidence in the future.  The Lord will not forsake us.  He will not forsake us.”  Likewise I lean on these wise words, “Strength comes not from frantic activity but from being settled on a firm foundation of truth and light. It comes from placing our attention and efforts on…Jesus Christ. It comes from paying attention to the divine things that matter most" (President Uchdorf).

I guess that’s how I choose to look at and handle the unsolicited—yet anticipated—vicissitudes in life. I expect I’ll simply have to be more honest the next time someone asks me if I’m feeling settled.  Yes, I’ll say, I suppose I am.

Decisions and Hearts

Indecisive?  Hard to say.  But I’m leaning toward a definite yes.  With potential for change.

My mind chatter goes something like this, Should we have another family over or just spend a quiet evening on our own?  We’re constantly tripping over this one.  We do a lot of both.  And maybe sometimes we really could’ve used a night at home alone as a family but instead we’ve invited a family over.  It was already a full week and we sort of pushed our limits, not giving ourselves much down-time over the weekend.  Or we decide we’re just going to cocoon ourselves with some quiet family time and then find out later the details of a family that really could’ve used a friend that night; maybe they’re new and feeling lonely, they’re in the middle of a move, they just got home from vacation and didn’t really have that much to work with. It’s hard to decide which is best; I don’t know if we ever really get it right.  But we try to be in touch with what our family needs; and if we feel like we’re in a good place (and even sometimes when we’re not but we’re going through less than another family) we’ll have people over.  But sometimes we’re just happy to be.  Like I said, we go back and forth; I want to get it right, but I wonder if we ever do.

I catch myself waffling over other smallest of decisions.  Should I send her a birthday card?  A gift?  Are we that good of friends?  What if I did this for everyone??  Can we afford this? Will it be awkward?  Am I just making work for myself?  Will it even matter?

Decisions!  We can’t get away from them obviously.  Some of you seem to be direct, matter of fact folk.  I guess I hesitate because I want to be right, I want to make the best decisions I can.  And so to weigh the options and assimilate all the information at hand takes time and energy and can sometimes be paralyzing.  I know it drives Todd crazy.  But, like I said, I’m working on it.

We’re rarely allowed to see the impact of some of our decisions.  So how are we to even know if we’re getting them right?  Or if we were mistaken and messed up?  Don’t you feel this pressure as parents?  Of course we’re doing our best.  Even if it’s honestly not our best.  We’re trying.  Yet we upset ourselves by worrying about everything we’re not doing or getting right.  We know better than anyone that it’s not picture-perfect.  And yet, our intent—our heart—ought to count for something.  And I believe it does.

Something I’ve been learning over the years is it’s more important for me to check my intent than to receive confirmation that it's absolutely the right decision.  Sometimes there's simply not time for that and we need to move forward using our best judgment.  When I can't seem to determine what's best, I go with my heart.  This simple idea has effectively uncomplicated my decision making, freeing me to go ahead with all sorts of ideas I would’ve vacillated on for too long in the past.

When our hearts have good intents, we can confidently move forward using them as our guides.  We still gather pertinent information, but we don’t have to simply rely on our chart of pros and cons. We allow our hearts to have a voice.  So even when something doesn’t make sense or seems risky, I’m learning to trust my heart. Because I believe even if I sent a love note or a text that was quickly dismissed or never replied to, I would rather err on the side of acting on an idea and getting it wrong than waiting for confirmation that it was a right but missed opportunity.  So if I feel like hugging my sons, even though they’re bigger than me and they might think I’m weird, I do it anyway because the potential good outweighs the temporary awkwardness.  Likewise, we keep trying to read scriptures as a family even though it doesn’t seem to make a lick of difference, because in our hearts we know there’s potential, it feels right.  Most of the time we can’t see the results of interactions like these.  But my heart is the best barometer I know of as I’m faced with a multitude of choices every day.

I remember one of the first times I went with my heart.  I was 21 and was finally told I wouldn’t be able to go on my mission after all.  I could hold out till I got my braces off and try submitting my application again, or I could wait a few months for Todd to get home from Norway and marry him.  I was elated with the option of getting married and putting a mission on hold indefinitely!! I didn’t analyze it for any length of time; when I found that door closed, I paid attention to my heart.  I immediately worked out my next semester’s classes that very night, I was happier than I’d been the whole five weeks my application was being reviewed and took that as a sign that it was right.

A couple years back I made a resolution to be more generous, to act on the feelings of my heart unabashedly.  And I’m surprised by the difference it’s made.  So many decisions are now automatically made for me, where before they would be issues for debate.  Should I put a dollar in the tip jar at lunch? I never used to; but now, absolutely.  A birthday card for a friend I haven’t talked to in forever but whose name just came to mind?  Of course!  Set up a group of ladies for lunch that I don’t know very well? Let’s try it!

Like I said, most of the time we have no idea what the outcomes of our decisions are. Occasionally we see what's going on, like when our son and daughter have been beneficiaries of the tip jar from work; those small contributions compiled bumped up their hourly wages, and it makes me happy to be able to do that for someone else.  I love, more than anything else, notes and letters from my kids about memories they have from earlier years.  Nothing makes me cry with gratitude more than realizing all the messes were worth it, that they have good memories, that some of the choices we made—maybe against the norm but that felt good to us and our family—seemed to have worked out ok.  It’s validating to hear back from people as we followed our hearts when we couldn’t decide what the right decision was.

For instance, I was super surprised to hear from a friend the other day after I brought her a little birthday gift.  I mean, a really little gift; just a pair of earrings that looked like her and a card. I’d vacillated, wondering if we were good enough friends for me to share a gift with her.  I decided I didn’t care, my heart wanted to show her in a tangible way that I care about her. She said it made her cry, but maybe it was more for me because it warmed my heart to know such a small thing made her happy.  And it boosted my confidence that I can continue to act on impressions and feelings I get.

But most of the time we have no idea what sort of impact we’ve had. Though I believe we will after this life. I sense we’ll be able to review our lives and know how our actions—and inactions, opportunities that could’ve really made a difference to someone that we ignored or were too afraid to take—affected people. Which motivates me to act on any good idea that comes to me.  Especially the random ones.  I’ve learned those are the ones most likely to be inspired.  

Basically, I’m learning to not over-think. If I feel inclined, if it makes me feel excited (not in a hedonistic way; a sweet way), if I think it will add something to someone’s day or life, that’s good enough. I try to ask God about it all; but to be honest I don’t get a lot of direction. I think He’s given us the formula and expects us to act accordingly, independently.  I love this guideline, I’ve relied on it heavily over the years as I’ve tried to combat my indecisiveness, “But behold, that which is of God inviteth and enticeth to do good continually; wherefore, every thing which inviteth and enticeth to do good, and to love God, and to serve him, is inspired of God” (Moroni 7:13).

And so, as decisions come at me, I want to know what He wants me to do.  And I want to follow my heart.  Interestingly, I’m learning that they’re usually the same.