Delight in the Hard Times

Attending church on Mother's Day is always a treat, but today it was especially wonderful to me.

My favorite thoughts came from our (now former as of today:/ ) bishop's wife, also known as Sister Call, who is both a great speaker and an inspiring woman.

She urged us to savor this time of young parenthood--for her it was the best time of her life and she misses it. This really made me think. Like my post yesterday, it made me again ask am I enjoying this time in my life? Am I appreciating it as much as I should? Probably not. Will I be able to do so fully? Probably not until many years down the road. But I probably could be finding a little more joy in the every day.

Sister Call then added that those hards moments, the ones when your kids put peanut butter on your furniture, and make messes, and say and do embarrassing things end up making the best stories and memories later on. And I realized how true that is of my own life so far. I am so grateful to her for reminding me to have that perspective. It won't always be easy in the moment, but it's so much better to laugh about these experiences than to get angry, which only hurts everyone.

So the next time (because I know we're not past these things yet) Tenley puts on my makeup or hides my phone in the rice cooker or draws all over the fridge, floor, and her body in marker, I'll try to remember that in a few years she won't be doing these silly little things anymore. And in a few more years, she will be leaving home and I'll miss her to death--messy bright green hands and all.

Smell the Roses

I need to stop, breathe, and relax.

Sometimes I just need to remember to take some time to smell the roses.

Especially when there is something to look forward to, I tend to live for that thing and not enjoy the present and the gift that it is as much as I should. 

But I'm working on that. I have two precious young and growing children who need me to be my best and happiest self right now. Not in a few weeks or months. I frequently feel like I need to be doing to feel like I'm living, and that's a hard thing for me to get past. 

I use the excuse of school a lot. "When I finish school, then I'll do such and such." But I need to do some of those things now. Make more art, write more frequently, worry less, pray more. I need to try and enjoy the fleeting hard times and try to see that they ultimately are helping me to improve, and change, and grow because who knows what could happen in the next many months? And who knows what I could miss?

Like the beginning lyrics of Little River Band's "Lady":

Look around you, look up here

Take time to make time

Make time to be there

Look around, be a part

Do you sometimes struggle to live in the present the way I do? 

A Letter

This was another English assignment--to write a letter. No other requirements. But once I started this letter, I couldn't stop [crying...]. I've decided to share it because I know that many, many parents feel like I do. They feel like their love is so great for their children that no one else could possibly love their babies more. That's definitely how I feel anyway. So I wrote a letter to my children, because besides my Savior and husband, there are no beings I love more. 

Dear Tenley & Declan (& all my babies to come),

I want you to know with certainty that I love you. I hope there won’t be but expect there will probably be a few times when you wonder if that’s true. I promise you it is. The days that you were born were some of the physically hardest but most wonderful of my life. The only greater day was marrying your dad in the Boston temple for all eternity and by doing so, insuring that each of you would be sealed to us forever and ever. 

I am so thankful for the gift of eternal families. I want to be with each one of my amazing children forever. I know that one day, each of you will find an eternal companion to form your own families with. I will be happy for you at this time, but also sad knowing that you do not need me the way you do now. I think of how I feel toward my own parents right now. I love them so much, and hope I get to be with them forever, but even more, I love my husband and children and never want to part from them. Because you are mine. But you are also someone else's. 

As much as I hope you will always love me the way you do as my little babies, I want you to love someone else even more your whole life through. That person is your Father in Heaven. I can’t imagine loving you any more than I do. But somehow, your Father in Heaven’s love surpasses my own. That love must truly be infinite to exceed the love I feel for you. I hope you will always love Him, and your Savior Jesus Christ more than you do me. Nothing will bring you greater joy than loving your Savior.

I want you to know something else too concerning your faith. It’s okay to wonder, it’s okay to question. You must do the work yourself to find out the truth. People receive answers in different ways. Some receive actual answers from another person or a whispered Voice, some feel warmth, and some think they are receiving no answer at all. But learn to be patient. Trust in the Lord’s timing. He will answer you if you wait. As you grow up you lean on the testimony of your parents. You cannot do this forever. Someday you must take the time to start asking and studying for yourself. Pray for understanding and faith. Ask for help from us, your parents, and from other trustworthy leaders of the Church.

There will be sad times when you feel like you’ve failed. I have failed again and again in my life, usually at the same things over and over. Remember that the purpose of the Savior’s Atonement is to provide a way for us to fix those wrongs so we are not trapped in our sin and return to Heavenly Father. We do not fully understand the Atonement (I have been trying to my whole life) but we know that it heals us. We can be perfect again and again when we repent. Do not be afraid of repentance. It can seem like a scary or embarrassing thing because it means we have done something wrong. But repentance restores us. If you are repenting it means you care about being better. We should feel grief at our sins, but joy because we can fix them with repentance. Never feel that you are too unworthy to pray. You can always pray to your Father in Heaven. He will always listen to you.

My patriarchal blessing promised me great joy in motherhood. I can tell you I have never experienced greater joy than being your mother. I love it so much that I want more and more of you so I can have little children to love all my life, even when you’ve left to create your own families. Someday when you become a mother or a father, I know you’ll experience that incredible flood of love for your children and recognize in a small way the immense feeling I have for each of you.

I wish I could always make you feel the depth of my love for you. I know I get angry and frustrated and impatient too often. I am so imperfect. I want to be the best mother you could possibly have. I cry when you cry and cry when I get too upset with you. I do not feel deserving to be your mom because you are so wonderful that you deserve nothing but the best. But I can promise you that I will always try. I will always try to be better and love you with my whole heart.

As you grow, I am going to do my best to teach you right from wrong, but more important than that, I will teach you to have the courage to choose right. I hope that you are obedient to the standards of the Church. Not everyone is naturally obedient, but you can teach yourself to be obedient. You always have this choice. I hope you will have joy in the gospel and even when you question it, find your faith and return with your testimony stronger and firmer. Know that I am doing my best to hold weekly Family Home Evenings with our little family, and also daily scripture study and family prayer. Sometimes we have to call dad at work and do scripture study and prayer over the phone because of his schedule. I’ve even tried reading four verses a night and doing a separate prayer just with you, Tenley, to help you practice doing personal study so when you’re old enough, you can take over doing this by yourself. It’s not easy to do these things with two under two. It feels like you don’t listen at all. But I know you are feeling the Spirit when we do them. And I know you listen more than I realize based on how you always shout “Amen!” afterward. Nothing is more important to me than being with my family forever. So I continue doing these things, even if it often feels like I’m just going through the motions. I want you to be prepared for the world when you are older and feel as though you are armed with a fervent testimony of Jesus. Because of Him you never have to be afraid that everything will work out. It will.

If I could pick just five things to impress on you (though it’s hard to pick just five), I think the most important things I hope you to be are these:

Be Kind. There is too little kindness in this world and I want my children to be a friend to everyone. I want you to help those in need even if it means sacrificing on your part. If you love your brother, you will be kind to him. You will look at the man as you think God would see him and not as the flawed person the world sees. Heavenly Father will be happy to see you love His children.

Be Grateful. Be thankful to Heavenly Father for all He has given you. There are so many blessings. Be grateful to your Savior for His sacrifice. In your prayers, always be mindful to thank them for all you have been given. Have humility about all you have been blessed with and about the talents and gifts you have been given. A grateful heart is a happy heart, and more than anything I want you to be happy.

Be Genuine. This means being honest to others and to yourself. Treat others fairly. Be honest in your words and your dealings with others. Have integrity. This means having the courage to admit your mistakes when you have done wrong. Practice what you preach. In other words, be true to your beliefs and standards and refrain from judging people, especially for making the same mistakes you’ve made.

Be Forgiving. We are required to forgive all men. It is hard. There are truly evil people who feel no remorse for what they’ve done. And there are those who are hard to forgive because they were close to you and have betrayed you and your trust. But forgiveness frees you from anger and pain. It allows you to have happiness again. Those who do not have forgiveness in their hearts, can never be truly happy with the sins and mistakes of others burdening them. So choose to let it go. It will be hard to forget the wrong, but at the very least, let go of your anger.

Be Courageous. I want my children to be the ones to stand up for the right. I want them to be willing to go against the norm in order to help another. I want them to have courage in their faith and be willing to share it without fear of rejection. I want them to have the courage to admit when they are wrong. I want them to courageously love, even if it means getting their heart broken. I want them to have the courage to not take offense. I want them to have the courage to be kind, to be genuine, to be forgiving. These are not easy things and sometimes they do not come naturally to a person. But with practice, they will come easily and you will ultimately be happier because of it.

Remember that you are loved. I can’t tell you how much I love you and you will not understand until you are in my position yourself. But trust me.

With all my heart, I love each one of you.

Your mother in this short life,

Olivia O’Rissa Searle Gunnell

An Autobiography in Five Things

For my Creative Writing class, we were instructed to write an autobiography of ourselves though five things. Some kind of conflict was to be included. Since I dedicated a great deal of time to writing about these things, I thought I'd share them with you. Lots of writing for you, easy blog post for me. Win-win. 

Journal – My Day-to-day Life

I have 33 of them, all numbered, all capturing the mostly day-to-day, mundane pieces of my life from the age of 13 to almost 24. I cringe when I read what I wrote even just a year ago from a well-worn #31, it’s binding taped repeatedly, it’s pages stained with hot chocolate or salsa and crumpled from traveling all over with me. Here’s a greasy stain from lunch on this page. Here’s where my daughter scribbled a trail of drawings over eight pages when she managed to get the cap off a pen. My writing sounds horrendous to me. I try too hard or not hard enough. I like the way my handwriting looks except I hate the way it trails off like a crooked path as I am falling asleep. I am often complimented on the overall neatness of my penmanship. With ten plus years of daily practice, my handwriting better be flawless. I never write “dear diary” at the risk of sounding too corny. Sometimes when I read back what I wrote I feel like I’m reading the words of someone else. Is this really an accurate representation of my life? I wonder.

Temples – My Present

They’re everywhere in Utah. Honestly, they’re my favorite part about it. Especially seeing a handful scattered in the valley at night, like glowing white crystals. Our closest one back home is two hours away—in Boston. Here, you can be there in two minutes. I don’t have many favorites about Utah. It’s actually harder for me to say that as it’s spring now and the prettiest time to be in Utah. But even that prettiness is false to me. Almost all of the trees here are planted. The blossomed trees are beautiful by requirement. They didn’t occur naturally like my New England forests. They had to be watered and cared for. They aren’t resilient like ours. At least the mountains are green for now. They look like mossy slabs of rock to me. They are sharp, jagged cutouts in the sky, not soft, protective, comforting like the blue-green of my mountains. Most of the year, it is dreary here for me. The brown of the landscape bores me. The mountains alone do not impress me. The first time I saw the valley at night, the endless lights awed me. The sky looked bigger, but the longer I’ve stayed here, the smaller it makes me feel. The stars that gleam through breaks in the dark treetops at home are just as brilliant and I feel more significant there. Every moment in the quiet woods is my own. Here, I am forced to share those moments with all the people of the valley. I long for my shady, wet, green home. I sound like an amphibian and maybe I am one. No, I’m more like a turtle. Able to go on land as I please, but preferring to be in the water. But not in those brown, dusty, treeless lakes like they have here. I’m talking clear blue water, wooded islands, all surrounded by a fringe of greenery. Sure, the House of the Lord is a bit of a drive. But the Church is true there, too. And I think the scenery is infinitely better.

Paints – My Gift

I was born with an automatic connection to art. It wasn’t something I asked for or even something I initially wanted. In fifth grade I was embarrassed when my class rated me as “most artistic.” “Who cares about being an artist?” I said aloud. It’s more of a hobby than a profession. It’s just a talent that I randomly ended up with. “Olivia gets artistic abilities because—no reason.” Maybe there is a reason I got it, but right now it’s purely for my own pleasure. In high school, it was flattering. At least I got a superlative. And it’s better than “goofiest laugh” or “most changed since middle school” or “tallest” (though I did get voted shortest girl in middle school—fortunately I slightly surpassed someone by high school). Brushing color on a canvas serves as an outlet for me. It’s my reward for accomplishing everything else. I think about how much I’d like to work on a project when the kids are finally both asleep, but there’s always more important things to do when I finally have a moment to myself. Sometimes I give in anyway, and stay up far too late finishing a landscape I’ve wanted to work on for weeks. I used to sit outside on a grassy hill overlooking the ocean and sketch the landscape then fill it in with watercolors and a brush that felt delicate in my fingers. I miss that. Then I walk into the kitchen, pull my elbow-length rubber gloves on, and begin washing the dishes. Because clean dishes are more important.

The Ocean – My Thing

I have always felt an unusual possessiveness toward it, and specifically the Atlantic. It is mine. I tried to narrow down this feeling to a specific piece of it—a smooth rock or piece of sea glass. But those don’t sufficiently sum it up for me. It’s the whole thing that I love. I know I do not own it, but I try to. It’s a part of me—of my childhood. Back then I used to pretend I was a mermaid and play in the tide pools and imagine entire stories about my mermaid life. My brothers and I would dig in the soft gray sand and wade in the water competing to find the first sand dollar of the day. Some summers we would find starfish, of all the colors found in a sunset. Purples, pinks, oranges. My hair looks better there. The salty air and water leave it feeling more gritty and wild and I love that. The humidity leaves my skin dewy and beautiful. I much prefer the feeling to being dried out like a fish skeleton, left out in the sun to turn into a crisp. Foxes peek out of the bushes all over the place like spies, which, upon being seen, dart back into the safety of the woods. There are rabbits and deer, too. It’s kind of magical to catch glimpses of these woodland creatures with the swooshing sound of the waves in the background. I even love the rocks there. They are all shades of black, blue, gray—even green. And they are smooth. Each one is a heavy egg in my hand. My family has a private beach in Kittery, Maine. It’s not ours but not many people know about it and I suspect we have seen every inch of it. On the property, there are old forts from some war all over the place that kids climb on and stick their gum on and probably drink in after hours. One summer, my family super-glued pennies with our birth years on them to the fort in a secret spot. We also glued some to an outcropping of rocks that always peeks out of the waves, even at high tide. We watched the pennies fall off one by one over the months and wondered if the order was some sign of who would die first.

Fishing pole – My Past

My Grandpa French took all of us. Every grandchild went a dozen times at least. Most of us went much more than that. There were countless casts thrown, bobbers broken, branches caught, lines snapped, lures re-tied. I think most of us preferred using bait. It’s easier to master, and gives a person some quiet time to look at the water and reflect. We went most often to the lake or on a lily-laden pond, sometimes in his silver rowboat. He taught us to fly fish, but not all of us (me) got the hang of it so easily. I think I feared too greatly the stories told of Aunt Carolyn or Dianne getting hooked by one of the other sisters in the ear or eyebrow. Which was it? Either way, I was so scared of that happening to me that my fly fishing efforts were only half-hearted. Fly tying though was another story. Every time we caught a fish, grandpa was quick to pull out his camera and take a photo of us holding our catch by the jaw, its prickly teeth making tiny imprints in our fingers. Unless it was too big or too small, it came home with us. We are avid fish eaters in my family. We fight over who gets to eat the crispy tail. One time I caught one of those chains that people hook their fish to and leave anchored on the edge of shore so their fish stay fresh. When I hooked it, I thought I must have caught a shark it fought so hard (we were at a pond). It turned out I had caught six beautiful river trout. In one go. I was so proud (though let’s be honest, luck had played a bigger role than skill). Almost every favorite memory of my childhood happened at a pond, river, lake, or ocean. Since moving to Utah, I can count the number of times I’ve been on one hand. I can’t blame Utah for that, but it’s just not the same here. It’s so very, very different. I wish my grandpa were still alive. Maybe he could have visited us here and taken my kids and me. If only I could go back to my childhood and take them with me.

Declan is Three Months

Our sweet boy is already three months old. How?! I know I've said time flies over and over but I'm going to get even more cliche and say time flies when you're having fun! 

I love having two children! It's not always easy but it's not nearly as hard as everyone let on (at least on most days). I'd say 6 out of 7 days are good for each child (too bad they don't always have bad days at the same time so we can get them over with, right??;) 

But I seriously am so grateful for my children. As much as I always wanted to be a mother, I had no idea of the joy I would find (even though my patriarchal blessing promised it). It's amazing. 

Here's my sweet boy at three months to the day. He is two feet in length when all stretched out (which isn't very often since he's so wiggly). He smiles and giggles every day now and loves being read to and tickled. He also loves watching his sister and being worn like a little joey/baby kangaroo in our k'tan wrap. He's definitely a mama's boy and I don't mind one bit. 

Enjoy some photos of our little love bug:

My poor boy spits up. A lot. 

Is anyone aware of a formula that can slow down your kids' growth?? If so, give me a call.