Why a costume closet?

When I was a little girl my sisters and I would play dress up and put on shows for our parents. Later on in high school, I would sit in our theatre departments costume closet redesigning the costumes I found there. A costume closet is about reaching for your dreams.

Monday, November 11, 2013

Freedom is worth the sacrifice!


The year was 1944.  His message was short but held all the love he felt.  “My Dearest Wife and Children, Merry Christmas.  I miss you.  Chancy”  He was part of the “Greatest Generation;” a generation that left their wives, children, parents, and other loved ones to fight a terrible evil.  They knew full well the risk they were taking.  They knew that many would not return to see their children grow up.  They knew that any moment could be their last.  Still they marched on, pushing the enemy back and liberating town after town.  They knew the consequence would be horrific if they gave up.  They couldn’t let that evil flood the world so they sacrificed everything they had, sometimes their very lives, to stop it. 

My grandpa came home from the war but so many of his friends didn’t.  With the rest of the country he mourned the loss.  “Oh my friends, my friends forgive me That I live and you are gone.  There’s a grief that can’t be spoken.  There’s a pain goes on and on” (Les Miserables).  Yet he knew that their sacrifice was not in vain.  Good triumphed and freedom prevailed.  The price of that freedom was sealed with their blood. 

What lessons can the Greatest Generation teach us?  What can we learn from their sacrifice?  What hope can they instill?  What light can they give us in a world that feels so dark and alone?  What would they say to us today if they were here?

“Never give up!  Don’t you ever give up!  The way may be dark but there is light up ahead.  Keep on marching.  Keep on fighting.  Endure to the end.  Freedom is worth the sacrifice!”

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Gratitude


November is the month of gratitude and thanksgiving.  Facebook is filled with people listing daily things they are grateful for.  In the past, I joined in this tradition but this year I’ve remained silent.  It’s not that I’m not grateful but I’ve been so caught up with life that I find myself on my knees “asking” instead of “thanking.”  I’m starting to feel like a little kid asking her daddy for help with everything. 

Life is busy and never ending with 5 kids.  There are doctor visits, orthodontic visits, and driving to and from scouts and gymnastics and an array of many activities.  The laundry only takes hours to complete.  I’m exhausted just thinking about it.  I find myself pleading for strength and stamina to get through my day.  My need for blessings and help from my Heavenly Father always come first.

Tonight as I was scrolling through Facebook, I noticed a post from The Busy Mom about some advice her mother-in-law gave her.  She said, “Praise instead of pray.  Praying takes a sort of energy that I don’t have right now.  Praising, on the other hand, requires nothing of me except a thankful heart” (https://www.facebook.com/?ref=tn_tnmn#!/busyhomeschoolmom).  Thomas S Monson said, “Sincerely giving thanks not only helps us recognize our blessings, but it also unlocks the doors of heaven.”

I still have needs and require help.  I’m still that little girl crying to her Heavenly Father to lift her up and sustain her during hard times.  Life is hard and anyone who says differently isn’t living it right or is trying to sell you something.  But instead of focusing on my needs (of which there seems to be plenty to go around,) I’m going to be grateful for my blessing and praise my Father in Heaven who endowed me with those blessings. 

The help will come, of that I am sure.  God is in His heaven and He is in control.  I praise Him for His tender mercies and loving kindness.  I thank Him for the infinite Atonement of Christ, which is far greater and more vast than just a forgiveness of our sins.  I thank Him for love; love of my husband, love of my children, love of my parents and siblings, love of friends, love that sustains me and lifts me up higher than I can go on my own.   

Friday, October 25, 2013

What love is…

     I am a mother of 5 amazingly wonderful, talented and beautiful children.  (Yes my boys, I just called you beautiful…deal with it!)  2 of these children I gave birth to and the other 3 I married into.  I have always wanted a big family.  From the time I was a little girl, the perfect size family to me was one with 6 children.  (Hey, I’m just 1 away from the perfect size!)  Although, never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine that I would be a stepmother.  I mean, who in their right mind would? 

Stepmothers are vile, mean, ugly and wicked and there is plenty of evidence to back those claims up.  Ok, so they’re actually not “evidence” per se.  They’re known as fairy tales but you have to admit that fairy tales have ingrained a stereotype of stepmothers into our brains.  You can hardly say the word “stepmother” without thinking the words “ugly” or “wicked” beforehand.  In fact, I have actually had someone come up to me in all seriousness and say, “Oh you must be the wicked stepmother!”  Yet, here I find myself, smack-dab in the middle of my every own fairy tale, where I have the starring role as the stepmother.  (Please hold all applause until the end of the performance!)

After my divorce, when the possibility of being a stepmother became more real, I thought more about finding a good stepfather for my own children than I did thinking about the day I would become a stepmother.  To me it was never a question of if it would happen but when.  (In the Mormon community it is a rare thing to find a 30- or 40-something without children so I was quite certain the man I married would have children of his own.)  I heard horror stories from friends about their experience with step-motherhood.  Many times I heard the phrase, “I’m just not sure I could love them like I love my own children.”  At the time it didn’t faze me.  I didn’t worry myself sick whether or not I would be accepted as a stepmother or whether I would like let alone love my future stepchildren. 

Since my marriage to my darling husband and love of my life, I have pondered (many times in fact) my role as stepmother and the feelings and love that have come because of this role.  (Yes, you read it right! I love my stepchildren and I love being a stepmom.) 

Today, I was told that I couldn’t love my stepchildren.  That I may try but I could never them with the same love I have for my own children.  Why not?  Why can’t I love my stepchildren?  Why can’t I love my stepchildren as if they were my own?  For you see I do, I love my stepchildren so much!  I love them with a love I never knew was possible!  I didn’t give birth to them but I love them as if I had! And I defy anyone who says otherwise!

It seems so natural to me to love them with my whole heart.  I love the way their eyes twinkle at exciting news.  I love their laughs and giggles.  I love their playfulness.  I even love the way they roll their eyes at me, it makes me feel like a real mom.  I cry their tears of sadness and long to hold them tight.  If they only knew how my arms ache to comfort them, to sooth away the hurt, heartache, and sorrow they feel.  (I wish someday they will allow this of me.)

I did not give birth to them but is that really a requirement for love?  I don’t think so.  I think God sent them to me through a different manner than birth and expects me to care for them and love them as if they were my own.  I believe He has entrusted them into my care with the same expectations as with my original two.  And since it is God that is asking this of me, how can I say no. 

I want to love them.  I want to help them reach the potential that is in each of them.  I want to show them all the beauty and wonder this world has to offer.  I want to teach them the joy of service and the happiness the gospel brings.  I do not require them to call me mom or mother.  (That is an honor I would never take away from their mother.)  I’m ok with them calling me Rachel.  They don’t ever have to love me back for that is their choice.  I just hope and pray that they look back on this time and think of me fondly and know assuredly that I loved them and looked upon them as my own.