Monday, Monday

Like probably every one of you, I’ve been disappointed as I’ve watched the weekends wave goodbye and to see Monday peeking its head around the corner.  We love Thursdays and Sundays in our family, but with those come Mondays.  Just as often.  But I decided that’s such a negative attitude to have; surely Mondays have their merits and so in looking for the good—as certainly always seems to be the case—I’ve found it.

I like getting up early again.  I feel kind of sluggish on the weekends, sometimes lacking purpose or direction.  But come Monday, I know I’ll wake up at 5:30 and exercise, the kids will be up soon after, we’ll do our schedule and life will fall back into place.

I love coming down to popcorn and ice cream bowls, remnants of an enjoyable Sunday night, another memory as a family.  I love that we made it happen, that we were able to spend the weekend together.

And so I love doing the dishes on Monday mornings, seeing all the parts of Sunday night pass through my fingers.  I love putting my kitchen back together.

I love that it’s trash day.  I relish the thrill of collecting the refuse from every single basket in our house: under the desk, the laundry room, all the bathrooms, including all the bits Finn has taken out, chewed on, and I’ve put back.  It all feels so tidy and ready for the week.

I love emptying my laundry bag and sorting the clothes, the towels.  It’s a little review of the weekend: working outside in the yard clothes, church clothes, tablecloths and placemats.  It feels so good to begin the process of transforming dirty to clean.  So satisfying!

While I honestly hate making my menu, I’m glad that on Mondays I know what’s going on for the rest of the week.  I like having a plan.

I like the recommitment to eating well and exercising.  Kind of like a mini New Year each week. We kind of fall off the wagon on the weekends.  Which we plan for and expect.  Just nice to know we’ll be back to normal come Monday.

I like having the house to myself again.  I get a little overwhelmed by all the people and activities and commotion of the weekend.  I like kissing everyone goodbye and getting to work.

I like having our Relief Society meeting some weeks.  Fun to gather with my friends to plan the month, to organize ourselves, to generate ideas.  I feel like I’m part of a team, so much stronger than I am on my own.

I like getting the hard parts of my week crossed off early in the week.  It feels like the rest of it is all downhill from here. 

I also like weeknight meals—easy old-school fare.  I like gathering again as a little family.  Weekends sometimes we’re scattered; Sundays we sometimes have other families over.  It’s nice to just be ourselves and to catch our breath.

I look forward to our family night traditions.  We calendar the week, we sing, we talk about the gospel or learn something new, we sometimes watch a short video or play games.  Or take a walk.  Have ice cream.  Sometimes we have others join us, and that is just as pleasant. Todd and I watch a little show after the kids go to bed and our company leaves.  Or we’ll do our puzzle.  Too late by this point to start a project.  We don’t really have meetings or other commitments, so we have a little window all to ourselves.  Which I absolutely love.

And yet I know I can find the good because it’s easy over here.  We have a family to gather with.  Todd doesn’t have to start a grueling week of travel, of getting up early for a daily commute like our friends do.  I didn’t spend the weekend grading papers or writing papers only to start in with classes come Monday.  I hardly have the street cred to write any of this.  But maybe you could write your own lists.  Maybe, if we all dig deep enough, we can find some happy things about Monday.  And maybe—just maybe—there is good to be found in every day.

Because of Him

It’s a rainy Easter morning, chilled, darkish.  But this is my favorite kind of day ever.  I love lying in bed listening to the raindrops, I loved the thunder and lightning last night, I love the contrast of dark skies with bright green lawns.  I love feeling cozy as the rain comes down, secure and warm inside.

In thinking about Easter, of course, my thoughts center on Christ.  And the impact he’s had on my life.  There’s no way I could capture or recall all the ways He’s made a difference—the difference—in my life.  His influence reaches every part of my life, it’s immeasurable.  But in every way, my life is enhanced because of my knowledge of and love for Him.  His love—His message—is simple.  And so are my feelings about Him.

Because of Him, I don’t worry about death the way I used to.  I know we’ll be with our families again and that He will carry me through the heartache of loss.  I felt that strength as He helped us deal with the death of my dad, of friends, of my grandparents.  I know they’re alive and well and happy and that He made that possible.

Because of Him, I am comfortable questioning.  So many parts of life are simply a mystery to me.  I know He’s ok with me asking about it all.  He’s not threatened or anxious or worried by my questions.  I know He is the source of all my answers.  I know there are merely things I don’t understand.  That He does.  And so I trust that I’m just not there yet.  I remember how much I’ve learned so far.  And that life isn’t over.  That I’m young.  That I still have so much to learn.  Because of Him, I have faith that there are answers.  That He will help me find them as I’m patient and as I exercise faith.

Because of Him, I have hope.  That I can change.  That I’m not stuck in today.  That I can evolve—even transform.  That I can get better.  That I can put my past behind me.  Yes, I’ll continue to remember my mistakes and regrets, but I’m not tethered to them.  It’s so I can learn from them.  I’m ok with this.  They don’t define me.  They are simply stepping stones as I learn to walk like Him.

Because of Him, I’m understood.  So often I’m left wondering who I can talk to, who will understand the nuances of this situation, who won’t judge me, who will listen with empathy even when my heartache is embarrassingly small compared with the cares of the world?  But I always go back to Him.  However it works, I have no idea.  But when I open my heart, when I’m vulnerable with Him, I know He understands a middle-aged mom’s concerns about kids and family.  That He knows how it feels to be misunderstood, misjudged, left out, alone.  He knows about stress and heaviness.  He knows what the world is like and how to nurture my anxieties and worries and sadnesses.

Because of Him, I know what love feels like.  And, more than anything, this is how I want to live.  Because of Him, I get to practice, I have an exemplar.  In every instance, I have a choice.  And Because of Him, I know what I should do.  I hardly ever get it right, I flounder and am stubborn in my pride, but I’ve seen a better way.  And every now and then, I try it His way and can see how love is consistently the answer.  Charity never fails.  His love is always the key.

And so, just like my rainy day, the world can feel a little dark and dreary.  It may feel like the rain will never stop, that the sunny days were just a memory, that this is all there is now.  But Because of Him, there are rainbows ahead, warmth and light are not just a recollection.  I love the contrast of the gray world and the brightness of His love.  Even on the gloomiest of days, we know there’s hope of sunshine in the future—because of Him.

The pedicure

I got a gift card a couple months back to a local spa.  Good grief.  I can’t decide if I’d feel more comfortable in a bar?  So I sat on it, tucked it away in my planner, not sure what to do about it. Eventually, I pulled the brochure out because I hate things pending and unattended to.  I assessed the costly procedures I had no idea people had done to them.  None of it pertained to me; I simply don’t care that much about eyebrows, and I’m certainly fine to shave my own legs.  But I like to check things off my list, and this was tying up brain space, so I finally I settled on a massage because that’s one of my favorite things in the world.  Except I’ve been going every other week for months now for my back and shoulder.  I didn’t really need a massage the way I would appreciate one if it was just once a year.  And then the idea came for me to take my girls to get pedicures to get ready for spring.  Loved it! We went last Saturday and it is the cutest little retreat place ever.  Ever!  Front porch swings for the little seats, rustic furniture, fireplace, smelled nice, cute basins, a drink counter, music, little soaps and lotions for sale.  They were given a list of choices of soaking water smell and lotion scent.  They were offered sodas.  Just darling.  I was so content sitting in front of the fireplace reading my book, chatting with a friend, and watching my girls get their feet done.  I was in my happy place for sure.

So later when we got home I toyed with the idea of getting a pedicure myself.  I’ve had maybe four in my life.  My mom has treated me and I’ve gone with my sisters when we’ve had a girls’ weekend, but never just for no good reason. I didn’t want to spend that much since it wouldn’t be a gift card; it would be real money.  But I had the good idea to check with the beauty academy since it would be cheaper. I’m always embarrassed by my feet at this time of year because they have been neglected all winter.  It would be so nice to just start off the summer fresh and I could take it from there and maintain them.  I remembered that I don’t usually do things like this for myself, so I made the appointment for the basic package and went the other afternoon.

To be honest, but not mean, this place was a tad run-down. Kind of noisy, a lot going on; I noticed the torn footrest, the windows that were either too dirty or too old to see through, the worn tables. I came a couple years back with the girls, but didn’t think much of it since we don’t go to any place like this. I think the contrast felt a little stark because I'd come from the other spa experience just a few days back.  But I had my appointment with the sweetest girl ever.  She told me all about her life and we chatted the whole time, she did great and was super gentle, kind, and pampering.  But after an hour and a half she reached for the polish and I could tell we were wrapping up.  And I felt let down.  The part I love and want most of all from a pedicure is scraping off my dead and dry skin; I just can’t ever seem to get my feet as smooth as they can.  And it never happened.  We skipped that part.  Maybe that wasn’t part of the basic package?  But I liked the color she used; the massage and lotion felt good. It was so relaxing just to be touched and fussed over for a minute.  (Or nearly two hours.  Even I was running out of questions by this point.  And you know how I am.)

So after I paid, I walked across the somewhat sketchy parking lot to my van and just about started to cry.  Or maybe just tear up a bit.  (I think I was having an emotional couple of days; I teared up being with my old ladies the day before at lunch too.)  I kept telling myself it was ridiculous to be disappointed with something sooooooo small and dumb.  I don't think of myself as a shallow person, I don’t want to be the kind who gets all worked up over such silly things. So while I drove, I just tried let it go and be grateful instead.  I was happy to get my nails painted for the season and to have spent some time doing something completely different from my real life.  It all felt so nice.  And I wondered if my time with my new student friend was maybe meant to be.

But none of this was about my nails.  The experience just underscored the reality that  I’m sometimes prone to pushing myself aside, mostly when it comes to spending money on myself.  And that I need to model something better for my kids.  The difference between the girls’ visit and my experience was a mere $5.  And not that mine was entirely negative, not at all.  It just felt like I was being a martyr for nothing and all I did was subconsciously tell myself I wasn’t worth the extra money.  I felt like I was riding steerage instead of with my family on the upper deck.

You have to remember where I'm coming from.  I read the likes of National Geographic.  It makes my heart ache.  I’m into documentaries and non-fiction. I think of the kids who are starving, who are in abusive homes, who have no homes.  I think of the refugees, families scrambling for a better life.  The war-torn countries.  The families in our own area who need help heating their homes and paying for basics.  My mind constantly goes to these people of the world and our nation and our neighborhoods.  And so I hate to pamper myself even more when I already have so, so much.  More than enough.  Way too much in fact.  It's not fair, and so I guess I try to even it out a bit by pulling back. By proving to God that I care about these people, that I'm aware of how blessed.  With that frame of reference, of course I ask myself, Feet and nail polish, seriously Caren?

That said, I guess this is where I am.  I am using this unexpected display of almost-emotion to remind myself to value myself a little more.  To not relegate myself to the back or the side or to disregard my feelings altogether.  Yes, I can see why I feel uncomfortable about spending money on myself when there are so many unmet needs in the world as well as close to home.  But I also need to remind myself that we are trying to be generous in helping where we can and that to do something special and fun and uplifting for ourselves every once in a while is fine.  And even good.  You know me, I’m all about saving $5.  Any chance I get.  But this wasn’t the time.  At the stage of life we’re in, we can afford the little extra.  And we can afford for me to get a pedicure once a year—dreamiest indulgence I can think of besides a massage.  Just a good take-home lesson to value myself as much as I do the others in my family, to model that, so when my girls someday become grown-ups and maybe even moms, they will know it’s ok.  That yes, we take care of others, we serve and try to be generous with the world, but that it’s ok—and good—to do the same with ourselves.

Cute little video somewhat related :)

For the best

Avery wanted a nice pair of sandals.  She did her research, found a company she respected and noted the favorable reviews.  When they arrived, they were just what she wanted, they were so cute, real leather, and just perfect.  Except they were just a tiny bit big, so she wanted to return them for a better size.  Days passed, then weeks.  I told her it was her job to make arrangements for the return and I’d leave her to it.  After more than a month I finally decided to take care of it.  But by this point, I realized they wouldn’t accept returns.  So we were stuck with an expensive pair of sandals that no one in our house could wear (they were too tight for me and they aren’t really B’s style).  She put them out there on Instagram, but nothing.  Out of the blue, I decided to take a  picture and see if my sister would be interested.  And to ask what size shoe she wears.  She thought they were cute and would work, so I mailed them.  She loves them, and they fit just right.  I can’t tell you how elated I was/am that we found the right home for them!!!!  I told her they would be part of her birthday/Mothers Day.  It was sort of interesting; usually, I like to do a bit more for her birthday, but this year I had only gotten her a little gift card for some reason.  I felt weird that I hadn’t done a little more, but every time I thought about what else to get, I would just feel blank.  So this was the perfect addition to her gift card, and I’ve been so happy every time I think of her and the sandals.  It’s like it was meant to happen this way.

Last week I had just finished up at the temple and ran an errand and looked down at my planner to see where I was in my day.  I realized a group of friends was meeting at the zoo at 11:45; it was straight-up noon.  Sigh.  How did I forget that?  It was a beautiful day, perfect for walking outside, plus ladies from church would be there and I always like to mingle with them—both as their friend as well as, from a Relief Society standpoint, to see how everyone’s doing. I was too late and didn’t have my walking shoes with me.  Or a lunch.  But just then another friend and I were texting and she mentioned she was meeting a mutual friend for lunch and that I should join them.  I hate imposing.  I hate spending money.  I didn’t want to be inside a restaurant.  And I had a million projects to get back to at home.  And yet, they were meeting in half an hour.  I just had this last errand.  I love these two friends so much and I’d been wanting to see how the one I never really get to see was doing.  I knew she had a lot going on and wanted to see how she was feeling about it all.  So I went.  We talked for a good part of the afternoon.  And then I sat in my friend’s car and we talked for another hour.  It was perfect.  We connected, we talked about matters of the heart, we left feeling closer.  It was as if it had been orchestrated.

The week before we’d asked a woman to teach our Sunday class but during the week she was sick and told us she didn’t think she’d be able to help out after all.  Actually, she told her friend, who told us, and that friend volunteered to fill in for her.  It turned out to be the perfect experience.  We hadn’t heard from this sister in many months because she works with the kids during church.  She touched our hearts with her stories and experiences.  We had a great discussion, and I know it was uplifting to be with her friends in a spiritual setting.  In fact, it felt like it all fell into place for a reason.

I've felt irritated at myself when I’ve been late getting a birthday card out or when the mail service delayed a note I’d written to someone, counting on it arriving on a given day. Later I've discovered that the cards or notes had arrived on just the right day, one in which  women needed a little love from a friend, a little pick-me-up.  Interesting.

Todd’s been dealing with major changes at work for over a year.  We didn’t anticipate this and we honestly aren’t sure how it’s all going to play out.  But it helps to think that, although scary and unsettling, maybe this is exactly how it's supposed to be going.

I’ve felt embarrassed and rejected when I’ve scheduled lunches and one by one my friends will call and cancel the morning of.  But I have noticed that these gatherings always seem to feel as if just the people who needed to spend time together were able to.

We were pre-approved to build a house years and years ago in a cute little neighborhood where several friends lived.  It was just the right sized lot and house, it was perfect.  Until we completely forgot that we were working on building a house.  It just totally left our minds.  Months later we remembered that we’d planned on building and wondered why on earth we had been so negligent about moving forward.  Until a friend mentioned another piece of property for a good price.  We went ahead with it and our years in that neighborhood were priceless.  We met such sweet people who became close and dear friends and who still are.  It was as if this was where we’d meant to end up right from the start.

I loved the story given this past weekend in Conference about the missionary who ordered an overcoat in the states and didn’t realize it was far too small until he was in the mission field in Paris.  At which point he gave the coat to a fellow missionary and bought himself a new one.  He wrote home to his family and told them that the missionary he’d given his coat to was a convert of a few years and had only his mom and the missionary who’d taught him as support.  He’d been praying for a better coat.  Elder Hales explained that God knew these two missionaries would be serving together.  He knew the store in Utah would send a coat that be too small and that it would be an answer to another missionary’s prayers.

We can think of all the break-ups from relationships we were hoping would go somewhere or rejections from programs we’d applied to, plans that didn’t work out, all sorts of hiccups or mishaps in life, as failures.  There are all sorts of songs about this kind of thing, broken roads, and unanswered prayers.  I just wonder if some of the disappointments or setbacks or changes in plans really aren’t mistakes after all.  Maybe in all of it, God has something better in store.  Maybe He’s working things out for our good and for the good of those around us.

I’ve realized how much less anxiety I have when I apply this thinking.  When plans fall through or get switched up, when it seems that things are falling apart or we can’t understand why life seems to be going so different than we intended, I comfort myself by allowing that maybe this is how is all supposed to be.  We might not know why for years later, but in the meantime, I know that God wants us to learn and grow.  He wants to bless us.  And sometimes his ways are not our ways.  I know, just as he is aware of every sparrow, he absolutely knows us and is in the details of our lives.  And if we settle down and accept that maybe this is how it’s meant to be, we will see his hand in our lives more clearly and be grateful.

Elder Hales' talk