Daily Imprints

As featured first on Real Imprints today:

Ever since I was old enough to talk, I always said that I wanted to be a Mom.  I idolized my Mom.  I remember when my brother was born, I was eight years old and became his second mom.  We bonded early on.  I would wake up in the middle of the night when he cried.  As he got older, anytime he got in trouble or praised, he would reply, "Auna did it!"  I didn't know exactly what being a mom entailed, but the idea of holding babies all day long, feeding them bottles, rocking them to sleep, and reading them books, had me hooked.  Every woman I looked up to was a loving, nurturing mother.  I thought I could do so much, being a stay at home mom.   I would raise a nation in the walls of my home.  I would teach honesty, integrity, humility and love.  I would teach them their states and capitals, and maybe even homeschool.  I had a dream of a nice family of 4-6 kids, being raised on whole wheat bread, no TV, great literature and love.  

Don't tell my kids but, I don't know anything.  I basically wing it.  I shoot from the hip most days.  I use Google and Pinterest a lot.  I fail more than I win, but I try.  Somedays I'm more on my game, and then there are days like today, that I am still in my sweats with incredible bed head.  I am still in a crash course on mothering, eleven years and five kids later. I have failed Patience 101, too many times to count.  Along with Love 101, Nurturing 101, Listening 101, etc.   I barely graduated Infancy 501, and I’m now starting a new course, Preteen 101 and I am scared out of my mind.  

Here are five little professors that I am trying to attend to at the same time.  I will share a tidbit of what they have taught me. 

This summer we spent a lot of time on the road, and enjoyed our little family.  One of those trips was Lake Powell.  We had never been there as a family.  I had been in my youth and absolutely LOVED it, and wanted to share it with my family!  So we packed up and headed south.  I am from a fun loving, sometimes crazy family.  My Dad is always trying to kill us on the tubes, behind the boat.   We play a dare game of BUSHED, wee hours in the morning.  This trip was jumping off cliffs.  Many people were jumping and feeling the adrenaline course throughout their bodies, except Brigham.  He is a cautious kid.  He is determined to try new things and he will practice hours to get it right; although, cliff jumping just wasn't his thing.  As I gazed up from the base of the cliff, I totally understood. It took him two days and many counsel sessions with his Dad and Uncle, until he finally made the jump.  When he made it down, he popped out of the water with a look of triumph and pure pride.

Brig is an example of determination, hard working and a magnificent negotiator.  He forces me to try hard things and really enjoy life.  He reminds me daily how I need to be better.

 I never know what I'll get out of Elleigh Belly.   She likes to keep me on my toes.  She's funny, sassy and always keeps me guessing.  One of my favorite things about this five year old, is her ability to make a friend and make them smile.  She loves to smile and wave at people in the grocery store and say, "Hi! What's your name?"   I try to remind her not to talk to strangers, but she has it all figured out, "They aren't strangers any more."  She makes everyone around her happy.  She once asked her teacher, "Does my breath stink?" and then breathed in her face.   She is my mini me.  She is a socialite and isn't afraid to be the life of the party.  When I entered kindergarten, my mom filled out a questionnaire about me. At the end she said, "Auna is the kind of girl who will dance on top of the table for you.  Please don't stifle her enthusiasm."  I, in turn wrote that very same statement on Elleigh's form.  Elleigh has taught me to enjoy life, be a good friend and keep others laughing.

  Truman has ran holes in his shoes, literally.  This kid is meant for speed.  He took off last year in his running career.  At his school they have a running program.  He had three other boys in his class that he would run with.  They received their 10, 25, 50, 75 and 100 mile awards together.  They had a healthy little competition, and if one of them was out of town, they would be devastated that the others would pass him up.  One day I got an email from Truman's teacher.  "These boys!  They were running again today.  Heath fell hard.  I thought they would keep running because they are all so competitive.  However, they all stopped, picked him up and waited for him until he was ready to run.  Then they all walked a lap together and then ran the rest of the way with him."

Truman has a heart of gold, his compassion surpasses an average 7 year old.  I love his snuggles and especially his daily hugs.  He knows I can't make it through my day without one.  I am taught constantly patience and love from this guy.

 This little bit of sunshine, Eva Dahlia is wise beyond her years.  She understands things that other 3 year olds wouldn't get.  This summer in McCall, we had Craig's Mom up for the weekend.  As any other grandma would be, she was a bit nervous with all the kids around the water.  By the second day we convinced her to try the jet ski.  As Eva watched her, she walked out to the dock and yelled, "It's okay Grandma.  If you need me I'll be right here."  It was so darn cute and what added to the cuteness was Eva wouldn't step foot on a jet ski.  Eva always has a kiss or hug ready.  She loves to snuggle at bedtime and wraps you up around your neck for a bear hug and won't let go.  She told me last week, "Mom, I be nice, if you be nice. K?"  She is constantly reminding me of our agreement.  She gives me a daily dose of kindness and sympathy.  I cry regularly as I watch her grow, hoping the world won't change her endearing sweetness.

Miss M is always teaching me.  I am not a perfect Mother and she reminds me every day. She calls me out on my bull crap.  She's only eleven, but she acts like my mom most of the time.  I remember fighting with her once and hearing, "Mom just stop!  It's not helping!"  Slap in the face of reality.  I hope that my guinea pig will turn out OK, and that I don't mess her up too much.  So far she's fantastic and I am loving having a little diva to share shoes with.  A few years back she was struggling with a girl at school.  The girl was bigger and older for her grade and made fun of Emme and her art work.  She came home in tears and wanted to "just die".  I sat with her and tried to explain why people aren't nice sometimes.  I told her she didn't have to be her friend and to just stay clear of her.  She had many friends that year and I encouraged her to play with someone else.  I even thought about talking to the teacher and asking for Emme to move seats away from this "friend".  Yup, my Momma instincts were coming out and I wanted to meet this girl and have a little "talk".  Well, before I could get any of my ideas out there, she came skipping home the next day, happy as can be.  As it turns out I have a very forgiving daughter.  She didn't take any of my advice.  Instead, she invited her to sit with her at lunch.  She acted like nothing happened.  She chose to not take offense and forgive.   She has taught me to forgive and love unconditionally. 

I am pretty sure this isn't your typically imprint story, but these kids have left some very deep imprints, if not holes, in my heart.   They push me to be better, to stand taller and to love deeper.  I hope one day I will be worthy of their love.  I am not much of a great student, but I love to learn.  I hope my little professors will be easy on me; I've never done this before.

secret pal

It was Christmas time over fifty years ago, in a small town of Connecticut, USA.  There was a young mother far away from her own closely knit family of sisters in Salt Lake City, UT.  She was newly married, with two very demanding children, the youngest demanding constant care being born six weeks early.  She married a man that swept her off her feet, weeks before his deployment.  It was a hurried wedding, and then a long time spent apart.  Naoma was her name, with crystal clear blue eyes, far skin, with brown hair.  She was far from your typical Utah Mormon girl; she was glamorous.  She even had a hint of mischief in her eye.

As the snow fell and her heart was weakened through the ugliness of home sickness there was a faint tap at her door.  She almost thought it was the wind.  She slowly opened the door, and there on her doorstep was a tiny wrapped present bearing her name.  As she opened the card, she read, "To Naoma, Love Your Secret Pal."

From then on every birthday, holiday and some times out of the blue she would receive a knock on her door or a random stranger giving her something from her "Secret Pal".  It was sometimes home made bread, flower from a garden, a nice trinket or just a sweet card, but Naoma always felt loved living in a little town across the continent from her home.

As the years went on, the gifts continued.  Now Grandma Naoma was rather old and gray.  As once declared at age 16 by a palm reader, "You'll live so long that you'll dry up and blow away."  She loved telling that story and towards the end of her life she would get it all mixed up and say "I'm going to blow up and dry away!"  Fortunately for us the former happen and she died peacefully a few months ago at the age of 90.  We miss her so much.  We miss her constant love, listening ear, games played together, food fights and her famous chocolate chip cookies and fudge.

Naoma Elizabeth Logie

It was late in the evening when an elderly lady came into the viewing room in Bountiful, Utah.  She was sort of plain and stayed back for awhile.  No one quite knew who she belonged to.  As everyone started to leave she brought forward a tiny bouquet and set it next to Naoma's hand.  She whispered softly into her ear and started walking quietly away.  My dear mother-in-law walked up to her and ask how she was aquatinted with Naoma.  She replied, "I am not.  I am on an errand for a sister of mine in Connecticut.  She asked me to bring this tonight and to tell Naoma how much she loved her.  Years ago your Mother Naoma was having a pretty lonely Christmas, upon a request from her Bishop (pastor of our church) she dropped off a little present on her doorstep.  That sister of mine magnifies everything she touches!  You should see her garden! She hasn't stopped ever since that day and now she's pulled me into this plan when Naoma came to live with you."  My mother-in-law lit up with delight!  "Oh I know your sister!   She was the nice lady who lived around the corner, whose garden was envied by all the congregation.  She was the one who was my Mother's "Secret Pal". " They sat arms linked together and reminisced long into the evening.

Although I don't know this woman in Connecticut I dearly admire her.  The simple acts of kindness she rendered continued thru the decades and were demenstrated on a regular basis.  I am sure her heart is pure gold and she radiates sunshine with every step she takes.

You don't have to look far for someone to serve, they may sleep in your own bed.  I love the whole secret service idea.  It's so fun to do surprises!  The other day I planned a Surprise Birthday party for my husband in a very short 2 hours.  Although his birthday is in December I thought, he's too good not to be celebrated more often.  So I sent kids in all different direction;  benefits of having 5 kids!  Emme made the cake, boys mowed the lawn, and the girls decorated.  I cooked the dinner and wrapped presents; one of which was an old pair of his underwear (gotta love kids humor)! He came home in shock and confusion, sprinkled with pure delight!  I may be slightly delusional and this side of ADD but know that life is too short to not be a little crazy.

So try it.  Plan a little surprise service project.  See how long you can go undetected.  Make it a game.  Or you can be completely nuts and hire an artist to delivery a singing telegram for someone!  There are no limits.  Make someones day and by doing so you're day will be better too!

good things happen in 3's

I am going to start with a disclaimer, good things and bad things happen in threes.  One of my threes is an amazing sinus infection that left me in bed for 3 days, fever for 7 and still stuffed like a thanksgiving turkey.  The service that was rendered this week to me and my family, as hard as it was to receive, left me awestruck!   I had hand sanitizer, vitamins, bread, meals, kids babysat, etc.  I have been richly blessed and am praying to get better so I can start making my service deposits.  While  I wait I will reveal in the love that surrounds me through service and friendship.

This story took place not far away, not too many years ago:

As I sat down for sacrament meeting in an old building on the outskirts of town I looked around.  Hmmmmm.   It looked small and quant.  Um, pretty sure most the congregation graduated the same year as my great grand parents.  We felt like neon signs were flashing on our row, with children climbing under and over our pew.  We juggled 1, 3 and a 5 year old and a pregnant belly, the best we could.  Where had my husband moved me too!?  How was I going to meet anyone?  And I failed to mention we lived in Idaho Falls, Hell's winter cousin.  

I can't express to you the depths of despair I  fell into when we moved.  I had moved states away to California and flourished there.  Being four hours away from home, in the "armpit of Idaho",  I felt millions miles away in my mind.  My kindergartener and I would fight every day after school.  My one year old pushed my limits daily.  One day I found him butt naked on his bike pedaling to my neighbors for a popsicle.    My husband would hold me when I cried myself to sleep at night for weeks.  

Once I had Miss L I started a little ritual of walking in the mornings, just a mile before Craig had to be off to work.  He worked long hard days.  He'd leave early and arrive late at night.  I felt like a single mom a lot that year.  As I would make my way through the subdivision and take in all the beauty of aluminum siding and left over snow, I'd pray.  I had many good chats, one stands out from all the rest.  I remember praying that God would give me opportunities to make friends and serve.  

It wasn't long that I got the first impression to phone a neighbor who was recently pregnant and super ill.  I asked if I could bring in dinner.  What!?  I should have checked my fridge, because I was clean out of everything.  Luckily,  I had frozen rhodes rolls.  I put them out and brain stormed how I would load 4 babies, 5 and under and make it thru Winco without dying.  Time slipped by, Craig had to work late again.  So I loaded my kids up and drove over to Little Cesar's and picked up a $5 pizza. I felt ridiculous as I walked up to the steps with rolls and a hot pizza, while my crazy kids screamed in the car.   When she came to the door she began to well up with tears.  "How did you know?  I just got off the phone with my mom and she said, "Honey what does sound good?" and the only thing that came to mind was rolls.  How could you have known?"  I stood there and wanted to scratch my head and think how did I know?  But I didn't, only the Lord knew.  

Later that week I felt the need to bring cookies to a sister I had met once at church.  I didn't know anything about her, but felt the desire to get to know her more.  I went to make  my families favorite chocolate chip cookies, nothing too fancy, but a crowds favorite.  I went to grab the bag of chocolate chips only to find they had been eaten through, almost to the bottom.  So I thought of trying snicker doodles;  couldn't find any cream of tarter.  By now your thinking, seriously go grocery shopping woman!  But things were tight around our house and we were trying to make everything spread as far as it could go.  So I ended up making no bake peanut butter chocolate cookies.  I didn't even have a paper plate or ribbon or a cute little card; it was a good little home makers nightmare!   I dropped them off on her doorstep, because no one answered the door.  The following Sunday or should I say, Roller Derby, I ran into her.  "Thank you so much for those yummy cookies. I haven't made those in years.  They've always been my favorite."  I noticed a theme.  Do you?

Finally the last day of the week I decided to try making home made bread.  I was feeling a little domestic, so I pulled out my kitchen aid.  Now, I'd seen my mom do it a million times, she even invited me over to teach me.  But here I was a couple hundred miles away attempting to venture down a road I'd only dreamed about.  It took me all day,  I ground the wheat, fed a baby, let the yeast rise, changed a diaper, mixed the ingredients, let it sit, picked up a kindergartener, put in oven to rise, all lopsided and funny.  Presto!  50 min later a rather large loaf, if I dare call it that, was done.  I quickly buttered the top and wrapped it with a paper towel and wheeled down the street in my stroller, to a lady who had just come home from surgery.  I knocked, no response.  I gave the knob a jiggle, it was unlocked.  Dare I go in?  Of course!  I walked in, put the loaf on the counter, wrote a little note and dashed back out the door.  A couple weeks passed when I bumped into her.  She said, "Was that you who made the home made bread?"   I sheepishly replied, "Yes."  She went on, "It was soooo good.  I had gotten home from the hospital that morning and was too drugged up to get the door.  When I finally woke up I saw the loaf of bread.  I devoured it.  I think I ate the whole loaf in one sitting.  You need to teach me sometime how you make it."  

By this time I knew that it was all in the Lord's hands.  He knew what these dear sisters needed.  Were all three of this ladies good liars, just trying to make me feel good?  Possibly, but I felt divinely guided.  I lifted and inspired and in turn was blessed to see the Lord's hand.  I made three good friends that week. 

Below is a story President Monson told that is better expressed and close to my own I wanted to share:

Tiffany’s difficulties began last year when she had guests at her home for Thanksgiving and then again for Christmas. Her husband had been in medical school and was now in the second year of his medical residency. Because of the long work hours required of him, he was not able to help her as much as they both would have liked, and so most of that which needed to be accomplished during this holiday season, in addition to the care of their four young children, fell to Tiffany. She was becoming overwhelmed, and then she learned that one who was dear to her had been diagnosed with cancer. The stress and worry began to take a heavy toll on her, and she slipped into a period of discouragement and depression. She sought medical help, and yet nothing changed. Her appetite disappeared, and she began to lose weight, which her tiny frame could ill afford. She sought peace through the scriptures and prayed for deliverance from the gloom which was overtaking her. When neither peace nor help seemed to come, she began to feel abandoned by God. Her family and friends prayed for her and tried desperately to help. They delivered her favorite foods in an attempt to keep her physically healthy, but she could take only a few bites and then would be unable to finish.

On one particularly trying day, a friend attempted in vain to entice her with foods she had always loved. When nothing worked, the friend said, “There must be something that sounds good to you.”

Tiffany thought for a moment and said, “The only thing I can think of that sounds good is homemade bread.”

But there was none on hand.

The following afternoon Tiffany’s doorbell rang. Her husband happened to be home and answered it. When he returned, he was carrying a loaf of homemade bread. Tiffany was astonished when he told her it had come from a woman named Sherrie, whom they barely knew. She was a friend of Tiffany’s sister Nicole, who lived in Denver, Colorado. Sherrie had been introduced to Tiffany and her husband briefly several months earlier when Nicole and her family were staying with Tiffany for Thanksgiving. Sherrie, who lived in Omaha, had come to Tiffany’s home to visit with Nicole.

Now, months later, with the delicious bread in hand, Tiffany called her sister Nicole to thank her for sending Sherrie on an errand of mercy. Instead, she learned Nicole had not instigated the visit and had no knowledge of it.

The rest of the story unfolded as Nicole checked with her friend Sherrie to find out what had prompted her to deliver that loaf of bread. What she learned was an inspiration to her, to Tiffany, to Sherrie—and it is an inspiration to me.

On that particular morning of the bread delivery, Sherrie had been prompted to make two loaves of bread instead of the one she had planned to make. She said she felt impressed to take the second loaf with her in her car that day, although she didn’t know why. After lunch at a friend’s home, her one-year-old daughter began to cry and needed to be taken home for a nap. Sherrie hesitated when the unmistakable feeling came to her that she needed to deliver that extra loaf of bread to Nicole’s sister Tiffany, who lived 30 minutes away on the other side of town and whom she barely knew. She tried to rationalize away the thought, wanting to get her very tired daughter home and feeling sheepish about delivering a loaf of bread to people who were almost strangers. However, the impression to go to Tiffany’s home was strong, so she heeded the prompting.

When she arrived, Tiffany’s husband answered the door. Sherrie reminded him that she was Nicole’s friend whom he’d met briefly at Thanksgiving, handed him the loaf of bread, and left.

And so it happened that the Lord sent a virtual stranger across town to deliver not just the desired homemade bread but also a clear message of love to Tiffany. What happened to her cannot be explained in any other way. She had an urgent need to feel that she wasn’t alone—that God was aware of her and had not abandoned her. That bread—the very thing she wanted—was delivered to her by someone she barely knew, someone who had no knowledge of her need but who listened to the prompting of the Spirit and followed that prompting. It became an obvious sign to Tiffany that her Heavenly Father was aware of her needs and loved her enough to send help. He had responded to her cries for relief.

We too can go out of our way to serve in the tiniest of ways.
I probably could have made a grande meal with all the trimmings and it wouldn't have made any difference when all she needed was a roll.  I could have made the best chocolate chip cookies and all she needed was a taste if home.  We may plan out ways to reach out that take time, effort and energy.  But many times people just want the time, a listening ear or someone who cares.