The Value of Work

I was asked a couple of weeks ago to speak in sacrament meeting today. The topic was the value of work which is easy for me because my parents taught me how to work. But I was the last speaker which is a daunting position to be in. If you don't speak long enough there's an awkward gap where they either end the meeting early or ask people from the congregation to come and speak. If you speak too long people are looking at their watches wondering when you are going to be done. (I know because I do this.) But my 18-minute talk fit perfectly and I even added a few tidbits here and there. I just don't want to do it again in the next five years. Check me off the list.

I'm glad my parents taught me how to work. My mom taught me how to cook and bake, plant flowers, clean the house, do crafts, paint, create memories and read. My dad taught me how to use a screwdriver, measure and run a front-end loader. I've caulked, laid tile, pulled carpet, laid linoleum, painted, stained, tightened loose screws (I've had a few ...), sprayed squeaky hinges and more. I normally don't wait for Riley to take care of a problem, I just do it myself. I sometimes have to ask for help but many times I've problem-solved myself. It's because my dad believed in me and there was no "women's work" or "men's work." I hope I've instilled that in my own kids - it's a nice trait to have - a good work ethic.

Happiness comes in many forms

It made me happy to listen to the rain on the sunroom skylights this morning. There are newly-planted poppies in my front flower area (thanks Amy). I've always wanted poppies in my garden - they make me happy too even though the Wicked Witch tried to use them to kill Dorothy (And now, my beauties - something with poison in it, I think. With poison in it, but attractive to the eye - and soothing to the smell - poppies! poppies! poppies!)

I get sidetracked easily.

There are many things that make me happy besides rain on my skylights and poppies:

1) taco salad
2) reading the morning paper in bed
3) parties at my house
4) Riley
5) humming hymns
6) having so many friends
7) ice cream with chunks of stuff and ribbons of goo in it (not walnuts)
8) finishing a prayer and receiving ideas and inspiration
9) reading about someone doing service for someone in dire need
10) giving service
11) laying on the grass (especially in Paris last month ...)
12) that old friends from my past have found me on facebook!
13) Costco roasted chicken
14) real snail mail from a friend or family member
15) when the scale reads lower than the day before
16) knowing I have a date to meet my sister for breakfast or lunch
17) reminiscing with my mom
18) crossing things off my to-do list
19) finding money in a pocket
20) laughing with my kids

I guess the list could go on and on. There are just so many great things about life. There is sadness in the world and horrible news in the papers every day. But the good far outweighs the bad, the happy outweighs the sad. I think Heavenly Father wants it that way. He created situations just so we can be happy. And I am.

Weed pulling - an analagous exercise

I spent several hours pulling the first weeds of spring this week. It's not my favorite thing to do. My dad had my twin brother and I pull weeds every summer, maybe even every minute of every summer, when we were young. He had a gigantic garden behind the house next door and he'd bark in his fatherly voice, "You and Kelly get out there and weed today ..." He had shown us how to weed early on - making sure we pulled only the offending plants and not those we'd harvest to eat later on.

Last Friday I weeded our garden to get it ready for my friend Callie to roto-till. Yesterday I weeded the big berm out front of our house. Some weeds come out easily - their tiny little thread-like roots don't go very deep and they don't hold on tight when you yank them. Other weeds are more clever. Their roots are fat, finger-like and spread underground. You can't just pull them, you have to use a shovel to loosen them. I pulled all the easy ones first because ... they were easy. There is a quick, quiet satisfaction in ripping them out and dropping them in the bucket. I eyeballed the bigger offenders, saying, you'll get your turn next. And most came out with help from the shovel and a little more effort to dig deep to get all the roots. Yet some broke off, leaving snippets of roots far below the dirt to rise again.

As I worked among the new plants in the cool morning air I saw an analogy about what we believe in. If our beliefs are like the flimsy weeds it's easy to lose our stance on anything. We are easily dislodged from our beliefs and it's hard to take root again. If we are more like the stubborn weeds, hanging on tight where we are planted, it's pretty hard to let go of our beliefs - it takes a lot more effort to move us and even if we lose some ground, we hopefully have some snippets left in place for our testimony to rise again.

I don't like the thought of being like a pesky weed. The better analogy is to be like those plants that are wanted - the delicious vegetables and beautiful flowers that are welcomed and loved. Yet even those have differing degrees of sturdiness in roots. It's all about conviction. Are we grounded enough in our beliefs to stand strong and immovable, no matter what? Or are our roots weak and thin? Only the master gardener knows.

I have to start cooking again

When Riley leaves, be it two days, two weeks or a month, I quit cooking. There's no point in cooking a meal for one, maybe two if Amy is home. That is why fast food was created - not because it's fast, but because it's food-ready-to-eat.

Since Riley left nearly two weeks ago I've eaten at KFC, Red Robin, Rubios, Noodles & Co., Wendy's (several times), Iceburg, Baskin Robins and Dairy Queen. Wow. No wonder my pants are tight.

I just really like the idea of ordering food, having it delivered hot to my face, eating it, not cleaning up after myself and no dishes to do. I also like not having to shop for groceries and not having leftovers in the fridge that might get tossed because of neglect.

Riley comes home tomorrow. I wonder where we'll go out for dinner.

Dirt between my fingers

I got to do something yesterday I hadn't planned on doing. I planted flowers for my mother in her flower pots. She wanted to go to Diamond's to pick up her hanging baskets and while we were there she asked if we could get some flowers to plant. My initial reaction was, "I don't have time to do that today," but I decided I would take time. We picked out blue and yellow pansies and sunshine marigolds, coral geraniums and deep green ferns. My mother's eyes are dimming but she can still see the brilliant colors of the flowers. At her home I gathered up flower pots and dug out last year's dead plants and roots. I ran my fingers through the cool dirt to loosen it up and sunk the root balls of the flowers into the black richness, patting them into the dirt like tucking children into bed.

This simple act of gardening brought joy to me as I tended to her new flowers and joy to my mother as she watched and commented, yet again, on what a wonderful daughter I am to her. I have so many memories of doing things with my mom through the years and this planting of spring flowers dates back to my childhood. Of course back then I watched her plant them, or helped her as she moved along, sinking colorful flowers into many areas of her yard. Five small planters are all we can manage these days but they bring such joy to her in her limited world. I'm glad I took the time.