Sunday Surprises

This past Sunday as I walked into my church building with my family, a newlywed couple of just a few weeks also walked in. Levi and Cecil had gone ahead and hidden around the corner, and jumped out at us while saying "BOO!" Austin and I pretended to be surprised. It was pretty cute.

I could see that this newlywed couple LOVED it. I imagine they were thinking about how their family could have a moment like that one day. It really helped me to highlight that sweet moment. They happen all the time--especially with our fun-loving boys trying to scare us! Cecil regularly waits in the dark in the van to say "BOO!" to me when I put the younger kids in their car seats. It's so predictable that I think I would be more surprised if he didn't make a sudden loud noise when I open the door to the van!

That Sunday morning, I was stressed from the tension of getting 4 energetic young children ready for church and out the door, but this couple saw the adorable part. If it wasn't for them, I might not have seen it.

The whole time we walked down the long hallway to the chapel, our boys were being pretty cute just by being themselves, and it was wonderful to see it through fresh eyes. Lincoln stopped at the water fountain to ask for a drink (as he does) and Levi had to be told to walk in the church. All this could be seen as obstacles to getting to the chapel reverently and ready to worship, but seeing my family through the eyes of this couple gave me new appreciation for the enthusiasm and zest for life that children have.

God's Love

I was 12 when I first felt and understood--at least to some degree--God's love for me.

It started at least a year (or more) earlier, when my sister Becky and I started sharing a room. Becky had the habit of studying scriptures and praying before going to sleep each night. I admired her (still do!) and thought I should try it out, too.

So each night before cuddling up under the covers with my stuffed dog Cookie and turning off the light, I would read from the Book of Mormon and pray to Heavenly Father. I didn't really have much of a purpose besides doing what I'd been told was right. I wasn't searching for the truth or looking for a manifestation of the reality of God. This was just me "doing my duty," as I saw it.

After several months of this, nothing had changed. Finally, one day as I was saying my prayers (not necessarily praying), I suddenly was overwhelmed by a feeling of immense, unconditional, loving LOVE! I had not asked for it; I was not looking for love or really much of anything from my Heavenly Father, but there it was.

Since then, my knowledge of and faith in God and His son Jesus Christ has grown and matured. I have felt God's love many times since then. I feel that every good, happy thing in my life is made better and happier through my connection with Him. It's definitely a relationship worth developing, and I am so glad that I know Him.

Spending time with three of my fantabulous sisters!
I'm on the far right. I was about 11 or 12 when this picture was taken.

Kicking it

I am so awed and thankful to be preparing to welcome another child into my family in just a few months. Life really is a miracle.

One of the things I've been doing during this pregnancy that I didn't do (but should have done) when I was pregnant with Levi is counting kicks. The baby is supposed to move at least 10 times in an hour (after you're far enough along), so you pick a time and count the movements. This baby (let's call him Stevi for now, since we don't have a name for him yet) usually gets the 10 kicks in five minutes or less, and keeps kicking after I've counted 10 kicks. Granted, I do wait to start counting until I feel him moving first. I remember Levi kicking, but I don't remember the frequency or the quantity of kicks. I'm glad I'm doing counting and that I've written about it here. So at 30 weeks, little Stevi likes to move!

One thing that happened yesterday is that Stevi pushed on me with his hand (or foot, but I think it was his hand), so much so that I was able to push back and feel the knob of his little hand under my skin. It was like he gave me a high five! It was pretty sweet.

Other things that are different this time around are: 1) I've experienced heartburn (blech!), 2) I've experienced a lot more physical discomfort, and 3) people ask me how far along I am before I mention that I'm pregnant (I'm not sure if this is a location thing or if it's because I'm showing more this time).

Rosella Marie, you matter. You are not forgotten!

So some of you may know that one of my hobbies is researching my family history. This post is about a really sweet experience I had just last night.

While researching my great-great-grandmother, I ran across what seemed to be a death record for her daughter Rosella. There was only bare-bones information on FamilyTree from people who had researched the family previously--a birth date and place, her name, and that she had passed away "about 1910".

Since I had found a probable death record that indicated that Rosella passed away in 1915, I started to do a little digging. How could I verify this information? Well, I got some help from people that know more about family history than I do and found the full death certificate. Rosella was 9 years old when she passed away from diphtheria, a bacterial disease now mostly eradicated in developed countries because of vaccines. Excited about my new find, I entered in all the new information I had on her, attaching the source to her profile as I went. When I finished, I stopped for a moment and looked at her fleshed-out profile with satisfaction. I looked at her sweet name--Rosella Marie--and was struck by a sudden feeling of joy that she was not forgotten. I felt that Rosella had been waiting and waiting for someone to remember her, to remember her short life in a busy city filled with many people apparently more important than her.

Rosella Marie, you are Important.

Rosella Marie, you are not forgotten.

I remember you.