Book of Poems

I finished typing in all of my great grandmother's poems today. 

The Blessings of May

 Mayhala May Fuller was born on the 25th of May, 1877 in Springville, Utah. She married William M. Mooney on the 20th of December, 1902. Together they had three children, Nevada Fern, Josephine Jewel (my grandma) and Robert Reed. She died July 18th, 1947 in Portland, Oregon. Although my mom was only 5 when she passed away, she still remembers her standing by a wood burning stove with her nylon stockings hanging down around her ankles, cooking and loving everyone around her. I hope you enjoy reading the "Blessings of May" as much as I enjoyed typing, reading and appreciating her poems written over 65 years ago.

Hockey Every Day

Markus wanted to have his birthday party at the rink this year but I told him that they have hockey scheduled everyday so that he wouldn't be able to have it there. Then I found a time that start smart is normally scheduled and they had a break for some reason. I texted all his friend's parents and planned his 10th birthday surprise bash! He looked so surprised when he walked into the rink and saw all of his friends there ready to play hockey. He told me after that it was his best birthday ever!

"Your Mom goes to college?!"

A few Sundays ago, I sat in Relief Society reading the newsletter with tips from last months “budget night” as an Enrichment activity. (We know how to balance our checkbooks, sisters. Am I right? It’s not the know-how that’s the problem. It’s the discipline. Anyways . . .)

1. Pay the Lord first
2. Pay yourself
3. Pay your expenses

All good ideas, yes (in particular the last).

"Encourage women to finish their college degrees before they get married!” I thought.

Then I remembered all the responses floating around in my head when I was 18: “It’s expensive.” “It’s time away from Him.” “It’s so hard to do with work.” “That won’t help anything now.” “What if going to school makes it so my boyfriend leaves, never to return?”

My sister-in-law and  friend, Robyn, sent me an email today asking for help with her daughter Maddie. In it she said: As you may know (or not), Maddie has such great dreams of becoming famous (on The X Factor TV show or something similar) that she is not totally gung ho about college. I know that she is voicing her opinion and we are trying to be supportive AND realistic. :) I thought that I'd ask you college veterans, since you all went and some of you waiting a long time, to send a message to me which I'll share with her at the right time answering this question:


Why is planning on a college education the most important (or one of the most) things a teenager can do?

What did you love about college?

Why are you grateful you were able to go?

What has going to college allowed you to do that NOT going would NOT have allowed you to do?

What good is college anyway?? :)

********************************************

To Maddie,

Every bit of education you get after high school increases the chances that you will earn good pay. I just got a flyer from Max's Jr. High that said two-thirds of all Utah jobs by 2018 will require a post-secondary degree or certificate. The more education you get the more likely it is you will always have a job. People with higher levels of education are less likely to be laid off and unemployed in tough economic times. The average yearly income by education is $19,915 for a high school drop out, $37,990 for an Associate's degree, $54,689 for Bachelor's, $119,009 for a professional degree.

The idea of women—mothers—going to school, even when they have young kids, is more than a nice idea, or something to get you “using your brain,” or a way to not go crazy (although it served all three of those for me). It’s your most precious asset. To me, “provident living” means preparing yourself now for a future that’s years away, gearing up for emergencies that could (possibly, but not definitely) arrive. Having a college degree, no matter when you get it, is a way to help ensure your financial situation. A college degree doesn’t have to be obtained all at once. When I went back for my Associate's, I had two (and then three) little kids. I took one class a semester. At the beginning the road seemed incredibly long. But when it was over, I couldn’t believe how quickly the time went. Now that I have applied for nursing school, every day I have women who work with me in the neuro rehabilitation department who are doing the same thing: taking one class at a time. Eventually, if you keep at it, you will get that degree.

I also realize that for me, one of the biggest obstacles to going back to school is money. It will be expensive. I can plan and save and sacrifice. Student loans are also an option. I understand that many people aren’t comfortable taking out student loans and I respect that very much. But I also know that my work is (hopefully) going to pay for my nursing degree and IMC will be well on its way to being paid back, and will be paid back many times over by the employment opportunities (flexible, fulfilling employment opportunities) that open up for me once I graduate.
Going back to school after a long time away from the classroom can be scary, too. What if all those years of diapers and Barney have overtaken the parts of my brain that analyze bio-organic chemicals or memorize the periodic table of elements? To that I say “Bah!” and add to it “Humbug!” My mom brain is even BETTER suited to college than it was when I was twenty. I swear it’s true. Why wouldn’t it be? I’ve had years of experience. I can juggle a dozen tasks at a time. I’ve read books and had responsibilities and solved problems that my barely-post-adolescent brain couldn’t even fathom. And besides, I’ve had enough experience teaching skating to people-over-a-certain-age that I can tell you this: taken as a whole, they are the most conscientious, engaged, and enthusiastic students at the rink. They *get it.* And they want to be there. Grown people, in my experience, are a joy to teach.

If the main reason you’re not sure about going to college is because you’re afraid, remember the following words by President Hinckley regarding fear and making decisions:

“The problem with most of us is that we are afraid. We want to do the right thing, but we are troubled by fears and the world drifts about us. ‘Be not afraid, only believe.’ I commend to you these wonderful words of the Lord as you think of your responsibilities and opportunities.”

I understand that individual circumstances might make it impossible for some women to go to school, even if they want to. But if you can make it work? Consider it. Although a part of me hates it when people say, “Women should get their educations just in case their husbands die,” (because, of course, women should get educations because women should be educated) . . . it doesn’t change the truthfulness of the original statement. As women and mothers, it isn’t frivolous to be prepared for unforeseen crises. Just because school might sound fun doesn’t mean it’s self-indulgent. Sometimes things that are practical are also (gasp!) fulfilling.

And Maddie, even if you never end up “using” the piece of paper you’re awarded at the end of it all—even if you never end up earning one red cent—we all know that knowledge is one of the only things we take with us where ever we go. And what’s more important than that?

Love,

Aunt B

P.S.–Extra credit if you knew this post’s title came from Napoleon Dynamite. :)

Am I Nice?

It’s a fair question if you’re me.

I’ve never been the type of friend who tells you your skating dress is gorgeous when it’s obviously showing every bit of flab on your body.

And I’ll never just sit back and watch you make decisions in your life that will take you on a path away from Heavenly Father without telling you in no uncertain terms that you are being an idiot.

So does that make me nice? Before you decide, hear me out.

My sweet friend Kate,
and her daughter Lizzy

I’m not like this with everyone. In order to justify my honest comments you have to have made it to the rank of “best friend” which means that we already know the good, the bad and the ugly about each other and yet for some reason we still choose to hang out. With those I rank as mere acquaintances I’m tactful, smiling, polite and decidedly mediocre in my comments, but in my desires to meddle or even know about their lives, I don’t really care enough. But with my best friends, those people I truly love and care for, I invest a piece of myself in their well-being. Kate, my friend, piano teacher and skating student showed up at the rink last month after not seeing her for over nine months and I still felt like I could cry with her in her struggles and rejoice with her in her triumphs, and today I got an email from her saying I’m always here if you need me, no matter what. So when those people ask how I am doing or involve me in their struggles, I think I owe it to them to give an honest answer or an honest opinion – isn’t that what separates them from being just acquaintances? Isn’t that what shows them that I truly do love them? Honesty?

I live by the saying that if you’re going to stab someone you love, it’s best to do it in their front. There’s no joy in telling someone you love something that you know will not be pleasant to their ears, but every so often it’s just got to be done. “The other dress was better”, “Is going back to school worth what you’re giving up?” and “When was the last time you said a prayer?” are all blunt little statements that have come out of our mouths only to be greeted by silence. We will however, hold off stabbing you with our opinions until you ask for it, mostly, and if you’re really, really lucky sometimes we can even manage to do it with some tact. Like when Kate knew I was struggling with Morgen over taking piano lessons, she sweetly gave me the book, Anatomy of Peace, for Christmas. (Seriously, a life changing book, if you haven't read it, go get it today. It is THAT good.) But if the situation somehow gets to the point where my opinion is called for, you better be prepared for my honest one because that’s exactly what you’re going to get – as your best friend I love you enough to give it.

So does this make me a nice person? Or does this make me a great best friend? (Obviously I’m hoping for the latter, but you can be honest!)

What's New?

"Well, I'm here to release you, and extend the calling of visiting teacher, for the Relief Society" said Bishop Downs, sitting in his office after church in December.

"Will you accept?"

I knew a release was coming. Was kind of looking forward to it, actually, though I would miss the chaos and the spirit in primary.

"Of course I'll accept it." I told John, then grinned.

Bishop did his patented 'You are amazing, you know that?' sigh and head shake, then admitted "I know." Then he straightened up, said "Thank you for accepting the call to serve, Sister B. The Lord will bless you for your service."

Less than half an hour later I was texting Shawna, having taken an allergy tablet, and breaking the news about my calling to Shawna. "But that's MY dream calling!" Shawna wailed in mock grief and some genuine frustration, then we chatted and commiserated and worried in tandem about our sons', our callings and just what else was coming up, unexpected or otherwise.

"And we get to hang out in Relief Society together when I get back from my stake YW calling," she said.

She has ward conferences this month. And has New Beginnings to attend.

This month, I'm on my own in the deep, scary ocean of Relief Society. Without a lifeboat, or handy inflatable life vest.

I'm way out of my comfort zone once again.

#*^#*^#*^#*^#*^#*^#*^#*^#*^#*^#*^#*^#

Morgen has moved all his clothes over to Ben's house. I have no clue about what to do for him, or even if anything needs to be done.

Being the parent keeps me up too late at night, both physically and mentally. The ship is rocking beneath my feet, as if the waves are being pulled by a handful of demanding moons, and I have no idea which way to go or what to do to be the Mom the boys need me to be.

My hours at work are long and tiring. I work part-time - and that is more than enough - with the 12 1/2 hour night shifts I've been working. I had a melt-down last Friday. An ugly "I've had it and I'm cold and dirty and forgot to take the chicken out of the freezer for dinner and I don't WANT to cook dinner and my house is a mess and I'm TIRED TIRED TIRED TIRED SO EXHAUSTED" kind of meltdown. I didn't pack the boys lunch (parenting fail), threw my scrubs across my bedroom (temper fail), had to scrub my hair to get the poo and pee off (of which - I realised was from giving an enema - I wore gloves and a gown but no hair net, so major hygiene fail right there).

Shawna texted later that evening, and gave me a well-deserved pep-talk. She said something which right up to that moment I'd forgotten - "You cannot do everything on your own."

"What can I do for you? What do you need? What can I help with? Why can't I pick up the boys from school? Huh?" As I told Shawna, it hadn't even crossed my mind that it was an option. "What do you need? Dinners? Laundry? What?" I have no idea. I just do what I do, what needs doing. I don't think about it, apart from scheduling it all in my head, I just move and try and get it all done. "You have to realise we don't live alone. We don't have to go to every single thing. You don't have to go to the Primary meeting tomorrow! You're not in Primary anymore! You don't have to go to the Stake fireside tomorrow night. Just take the weekend and do nothing. NOTHING! You've overdone it, gf."

It was a shocker of a week and day. By the time I crawled into bed, I was scraped empty. Nothing left. No tears, no temper, just the hot mixture of failure and exhaustion. Saturday was only a little bit better. Saturday was when I realised just how seriously I had overextended myself. I did the grocery shopping, took Max and Marko for haircuts, and that was it. My energy was nonexistent - I was fried.

Sunday I felt a little better. My floors were unswept and sticky, laundry was piled in five separate mountains, but I had slept in until 8am, and woke to snow dancing down the sky and grey clouds kissing my bedroom windows. I didn't emotionally or physically feel like I was slogging through a swamp. I laid in bed for a while, talking to myself for the past two weeks' stubbornness and failures, cautiously tested the ever changing borders of my comfort zones, then did nothing but enjoy the sound of snow and the feel of stretching on a slow Sunday morning.