Gratitude is the Root of Joy

It sounds kind of like a dentist-ceiling poster.  Especially with the word "root" in there. Maybe with an inspirations picture of a forest or something.  I read this yesterday-- posted by a Facebook friend who is quite inspirational.  And I thought about it a lot.  Since I am, after all, trying to become a Master of Joy, or earn my Masters of Joy, however this all works, I am interested in thoughts and quotes about joy.  

I think it's true.  And I think if gratitude is the root, or seed of joy, then love is the sunlight, and maybe service is the water.  Or maybe not, but I think it starts with gratitude, and recognizing good in my life and feeling God's love.  

Last night I woke up Peter at eleven to use the restroom.  And as most of us would be, he was grumpy and tired and our bathroom is cold, and he did not want to get out of his warm bed.  And I don't have to wake up his brothers, and it seems incredibly unfair to him that he has to deal with this.  And it is not really fair.  I got his tucked back in, and while changing the laundry I found a really nice, soft, thick, warm blanket, fresh from the dryer, and I took it down to him and put it on top of his other blankets.  

He was still grumpy.  And that's okay-- I mean he really is mostly asleep when he walks up the stairs and uses the bathroom, so it's hard to fault him for his sleep-grumpiness.  But I thought to myself, if he would allow himself to be thankful for the warm blanket, he would be a lot happier.  And allowing himself to let go of the frustration and the unfairness of it all for that moment of gratitude might let him see other things to be thankful for and happy about.  

I'm not going to suggest that making a gratitude list is the answer when you are really sad about things being unfair.  It rarely feels very sincere.  But being thankful for one thing, can start a natural chain reaction of gratitude and perhaps that can flower into happiness and joy.  Yes, I think it can.  

And now I need to get all those sleepy boys up, and dressed, and fed, and bundled, and be grateful for a good van with good tired and warm seats.  

Better get those booties on...

"I am really rare!"

Yesterday afternoon James was a very happy boy.  He is usually happy, but yesterday he seemed to be glowing with unusual levels of joy and excitement.  He bounced on all the couch cushions and made a little obstacle course in the living room.  I was busy planning in my planner-- which I really enjoy doing.  Peter was playing Minecraft-- since he was home sick.

James was thinking about his birthday, which is May 2nd, and seems a century away, especially when you are five and it is so snowy outside, and you know your birthday is in the springtime.  But he was getting excited about it.  He wants another Skylanders game for his birthday.  It's called Imaginations, and apparently you can create your own characters.  He has come up with one, which I later helped him draw, called Fire Tiger.  It looks like a lion/tiger with a bow and arrow.  They are fire arrows and he looks really cool and James can't wait to get that for his birthday.

"And you want a baby girl for your birthday, right Mom?" He asks suddenly in the midst of all his Skylander talk.

"Ummmm...yes, that would be nice, but I already have the best boys in the whole universe, so I'm really happy now."

"And you have the rarest kind of boy too--Because I have red hair.  We are, like, the rarest hair color ever!"

And then he has me ask Siri what the rarest hair color is, and sure enough it is red, and he is excited to hear that again, and we talk about how amazing it is that his hair is red and so bright, and I would agree with James and Siri that I have the rarest, most wonderful boys ever.

I am, among women, most richly blessed.

In Which I Try to Figure Out How to Stop Waiting for the Next Big Thing

First of all I want to acknowledge that I have not written every day so far this year...not even close, and I want to admit that I just finished eating a really delicious raspberry scone from Great Harvest.  Good to get that out there.  I'm still going to try and make daily blog-posting a habit, and I'm going to try to make healthy (no sugar/low carbs) eating a habit.  BUT I think I may skip a day now and again, and I think a scone every couple of days might help me actually stick to the eating plan the rest of the time. Which is another blog post in and of itself....


That said, I've been thinking that it is a very good thing that my husband and I had different experiences growing up.  He had a relatively stable life, all things considered.  His younger brother was quite sick when he was a baby, with asthma and breathing troubles.  Lots of time in the hospital when he was quite small.  I'm sure that took a toll on Ryan, but he was quite young, and other than that he didn't have a lot of challenges (according to his own account) until his mission to Ghana, West Africa.  And then he had malaria, and back at home his older brother struggled horribly with drug addiction--throwing the whole family into turmoil, and he had a companion that made him question many of his previously held beliefs.  It was a rough two years.  Good thing he had a really cute girl back in Ogden writing to him....

But his childhood was, for the most part, stable.  He lived in the same house (where his parents still live) from the time he was two years old.  He had dozens of cousins on his mom's side who he played with.  They went camping and fishing and canoeing a lot.  He loved scouts.  He liked middle school! Seriously, who likes middle school?! But he did and he had some good friends in high school who are still his friends.  He was on the Seminary Council his senior year, and worked at roofing afterwards to pay for his mission.  He paid for most of it himself.  His family did not have a lot of money.  His dad worked at a few different jobs, but mainly he was a custodian for the school district, and his mom has been a lunch lady for twenty years.  They like(d) their jobs relatively well, and rarely complained, but they really enjoyed the summers when they could head up to the Uintahs with their family and camp. They didn't travel a lot.  Ryan didn't see the ocean until his mission.  Ryan loves his family and is very positive when he describes his childhood.  Christmases were always nice, but very simple. Every day life was nice, but simple.

My childhood was filled with change.  My parents loved me, that never changed-- but movement and change truly defined my growing up years.  My parents were in school for the first eight years of my life.  We moved to Detroit when I was six, and then back to Provo, and then to Ogden when they finished school and I was eight.  We went to Disneyland almost every year, even though we didn't have much money.  We traveled as much as we possibly could.  We camped and did road trips and we always talked about it travel and moving, even when we didn't actually do it.  We were always looking at new jobs and new homes and new ways of life--especially my mom.  She would watch a special on the Amazon and decide we should move to the Amazon and live like the natives.  Or Bali, or Zimbabwe, or Iceland.  I was aware that the world was big and that there were many different ways to live, and that maybe one of them was the very best way and we just needed to discover it.

When I was 9, my mom fell into depression, and after that my parents divorced.  And then came my illness, and my brother's illness, and my step-dad (who I love!) and step-sisters, and then my new little brother and soon after new little sister (both of whom I love!).  So many huge changes in such a short time.  And although some of them were very difficult I grew accostomed to change.  I could survive change, even when I didn't welcome it.

 I graduated from high school at 16, and went to college and went on a  mission where I changed companions every 6 weeks to 3 months, and went to more school and taught high school, and got married and had three sons, and moved 4 times and switched the boys schools 3 times and now....... Now I have no big changes on my horizon.  I have no hugely difficult problem to solve.  We know we never want to move. The boys love their school.  And next year all three boys will be there full time.  My siblings are all doing relatively well.  My parents are doing well.  We have figured some things out with our finances so we are pretty set for the moment.  We like our neighbors.  My heart has been doing okay.  The boys are healthy, thank goodness.

So now what?  I suppose that's original point for this year of figuring and this learning how to be a Master of Joy.  I just never looked at it in this particular way before.  I didn't realize how much movement I have always experienced or anticipated.  For my entire life I have anticipated, sometimes with gritted teeth, and sometimes with open arms, the next big thing. The next move, or next school, or next baby. Ryan didn't really do that.

He lived his days usually very well.  He looked forward to those camping trips.  He enjoyed his school days, mostly, and his work days.  And even today, he likes his job.  He likes his co-workers. He likes the weekend.  He likes his church callings. He loves his family.  He likes improving the house and his aquariums and his car.  He likes the fact that we are fixing up the basement and the garage.

And I like all those things too, but I still struggle to know where my focus should be.  What is that next big thing coming?  And if nothing big is coming what do I do?  My days are busy.  I love being a wife and mother.  But having elementary school age kids is a world away from the baby and toddler days.  Right now the boys are playing swap force and eating cookies.  In a few minutes I will make them come with me to help Grammy Rees and then we will come home and clean the house.  They like each other and they love me, but they don't need baby-style supervision.  I wonder if I am living up to my potential.  What a horrible word--potential! Do we ever truly live up to it-- in this life?  I know I've sacrificed things to be able to be home with my kids.  I sometimes regret not going to graduate school or traveling more before I got married.  But how would my life have been different? I would never want to live a life without my husband and kids? And now that I'm 37 am I too old to do some of those things? It can be paralyzing at times (like this morning) living with both the doubts that I have not done well enough with my life and talents and also with the question, "What's next?" buzzing around my head.

I know what I would tell Charity if I were my mom.  I would tell myself that I was doing so very well.  I would tell myself that having a wonderful house, job, husband and kids are not happenstance, but that we worked hard to get here.  I worked hard to get to this point.  I would tell myself that I don't need to figure out everything today.  I would tell myself to be mindful and enjoy the days without crises.  Because inevitably things will change.  I would tell myself in the meantime-- until I figure out whether or not I want a job, or whether or not we will pursue another baby to strengthen.

This is the time to let those roots grow deep, and the branches tall.  This is one of the full years when we can add some thickness to those rings that make my tree and our family tree.  This is a time to read lots of books and go on lots of hikes and get healthy.  I have not felt that I had the time or the energy to really lose weight, or write my books, or hike those mountains.  Well, now I do.

So maybe I'm hard-wired to like a certain amount of uncertainty.  Maybe I'm always geared up for change.  I want to learn from Ryan, as he has learned from me.  And I want to find balance.  I want to enjoy the calm and the storms.

This is a time to thrive, not just survive.  And I know that sounds terribly cliche, but it is true.

Funny Things My Brave Boys Say

James, after we discussed the weather for the week: snow, freezing temperatures and more snow, said, "We are all....DOOMED!" It was how we were all feeling, but he was the only one with the courage to say it.

William asked me before Christmas if Jesus drank wine.  I told him, yes, that He did, and that now we have water for the sacrament.  We've been watching short little movies each day for the Light the World program the church has been sponsoring.  Each day the video shows something Christ has done, "Christ fed the hungry. Christ blessed the children."  And then all of them say, "You can too."

So William with those amazing wheels in his head turning says, "Christ drank wine.  You can too."  I was dying!!! Then it was, "Christ wore sandals. You can too. "Christ went fishing.  You can too." He continued to think of non-service oriented things that Christ probably did and then "You can too."  Maybe the church will ask for his input for next year's Christmas-time program.  But probably not.

And Peter, as we were watching The Force Awakens told Ryan that he wouldn't kill him (Like Kylo Ren killed his father, Han Solo) "Unless we have some kind of tragic backstory."  He was completely straight-faced and sounded 20 instead of 10.  Where did he learn to be so funny?! Not from me!

I love my boys.  Loved singing songs with them on the way to school today-- all the "fight" songs were playing, "Roar" and "Fight Song" and "Brave".  They make me think of the sad results of the election, since Hillary often played those at her events, but also made me hopeful.  The boys and Grace had tons of questions about Trump and Putin today and I answered them as honestly and hopefully as I could.  The next generation has so much going for them--especially in this family.  I hope and pray America's greatest days are ahead of her.  And singing those songs with them I do feel a bit braver.  

Day 3 is a Day Late....And That's Okay! (So It's Day 4 Too)

I remember a book that I always thought looked really funny-- sitting on my Grandma Rees' end table when I was probably about 8.  It's title was, "I'm a Day Late, and a Dollar Short and That's Okay!"  There was a cartoon picture on the front of a middle-aged woman with messy hair, a curler or two falling out, wearing a bathrobe and drinking coffee and smiling, but looking very tired.  She looked like someone who would make other people laugh--and feel good about themselves.  When I was a little older I borrowed two of my Grandma's other books that looked funny, by Erma Bombeck:  "If Life's a Bowl of Cherries, What am I Doing in the Pits?" and "Family Bonds, the Ties the Bind and Gag!" I thought they were hilarious as a eleven or twelve year old.  Why didn't we have more of these funny books in our house?  Someone gave me the book "Gym Suits and Braces: A Youthquake Survival Manual"when I was twelve and sick in bed for the year.  Also hilarious.  I was a little embarrassed reading these books.  I knew that they were not great literature, but they were funny.  Sometimes laugh out loud funny.  And I like laughing.

Yesterday and Today Grandma was very sad.  Lately she has been so lonely.  She has lived alone every since my mom got married-- 38 years ago.  But the past few weeks she has been so lonely it has brings her to tears, often.  She has made such hopeless comments about life, "What is it all for, anyway? It's just one big pretense. I just think I should just walk right over the edge."  She has said straight out many times a day that she is just sad.  Before this month I don't think I've ever heard her say that she was sad--- or lonely.  

And today when she opened the door-- tears in her eyes and on her cheeks--I asked her if she was okay, and if she had slept okay last night.  She responded, "My mother just passed away.  I just got the call this morning."  Her mother died 39 years ago-- right before my mother got married and moved out.  It was a hard time for my Grandma.  She loved her mother, who died of cancer, but was only in her 60's.  Helen May or Mae.  Depends on who you ask.  But everyone will tell you she was strong and spirited.  She was a pickle packer and a cracker packer.  In a pickle factory and cracker factory respectively.  Her own mother died when she was just a young girl.  She and her little sister Mildred spent some time in an orphanage with abusive orphanage caretakers.  Then she rode the rails hobo-style with her father until they ended up in Ogden, Utah.  She married my great-grandfather and they scraped by most of their marriage.  They had 8 children-- 5 boys and 3 girls.  They loved to go camping, especially to Yellowstone.  Helen loved to travel anywhere.  Just like my grandma and my mom and me.  

My Grandma Rees, Leona, is the second child, and first daughter.  She helped raise her siblings, and helped her mom with everything.  They sewed little Christmas outfits for all the siblings-- working and laughing late into the night on Christmas Eve.  They made sure everyone had good holidays, even if things were tight the rest of the year.  She was her mother's right-hand gal. Even after she got married (and then divorced) my grandma lived close by or right in their home.  My mother spent much of her childhood in her grandmother's home.   And in her mind, her mom just died last night.  Of course she was devastated.  

I talked with her and tried to help her realize that her mother has really been gone for years.  "I wish I'd been able to meet your mother," I said, honestly, "but she died a year before I was born. She sounds like an amazing woman." 

"Oh, she was.  She was so strong.  And she was beautiful.  She didn't have an easy life, that's for sure." And Grandma began telling me those stories again.  It was good to hear about her again.  It feels safe and natural now to have Grandma repeat herself.

I did make her laugh once today when I reminded her about the fact that we almost forgot to put the sugar in the stolen-- twice! We both laughed about it while eating some of the non-sugar-free stolen and drinking our milk.  I think I'm old enough to like it now.  My Weidaur genes have kicked in.  My Grandma Helen would be proud.  And I think she might be visiting her daughter.  Helping her get ready to move on.  Time to get going.  And we all love to travel.  

Enjoying Half a Snow-Day, Burying our Sais, and Aiming for Joy in 2017

Can I just say first of all that tonight is so very different from last night.  It is hard to believe that just yesterday our house was filled to bursting with chaotic noise and smells and tonight it is dreamily quiet and dark.  And can today really just be January 2nd?  The days have seemed longer than usual lately, and I'm not entirely sure why.  The light part of the day is quite short.  The nights are long. But all evening I have guessed that it is about two hours later than it really is.  It was a crazy and exhausting weekend.  And the two weeks, plus two days Christmas break was wonderful, and also crazy and exhausting.  We spent so much of it sick and up late having (and worrying about) fevers and vomiting.  But it was truly a wonderful time. And the boys and I were, as I anticipated last night, not at all ready to head back to reality today.

Fortunately for us, reality was very, very snowy.  It was 15 degrees when we brushed the foot of snow off the van this morning and buckled in for the ride to school.  It was 8:01 am, and after picking up Grace and getting gas we headed towards the school at 8:16 am.  By the time we made it to Washington, after several slips an slides and a few tire-spinning, heart-stopping turns, it was 8:47am. Shortly after getting to Washington which was unplowed, because all the normal people in the world are celebrating New Year's today, unmarked and icy, I made an very adult, parental decision.  We would have our own snow day.  I called Ryan and Ally and I brought the crew home.  The children were not disappointed.  They began playing Minecraft with aplomb! They were happy to be home again with their Yorgason cousins, and Grace.  Just happy to be home.

By afternoon, the other adult parent, made an even more adult parental decision to take the crew to school for the rest of the day.  The roads were clearer, and everyone could tolerate half a day of school.  It was a good warm up day, gearing up for a wonderful rest of the school-year.  The boys had a good day.  Peter stayed for his reading group and really likes Mrs. Christian.  It was Mrs. Jex's birthday and William made her a forest owl, since she is a wise teacher.  James didn't have to go back since he is in morning kindergarten, but he did go with Ryan to pick up a few new aquariums and a beautiful sand castle decoration for the frog tank.  He still remembers the address of the lady from KSL who sold it all to them for $10-- "We got it from 115" he explained to me when I got back with the school-goers.

The Yorgson's left-- packed all their belongings into their Odyssey and began their trek up North, where it is 30 degrees below zero! People are not meant to live in such cold! We will miss them, and now we know we can have house guests (and feed 17 people some really delicious roast-- still salivating about that roast!).

We enjoyed a warm and relaxed evening in the quiet of our recently emptied home.  We ate soup and chili and bread.  We finished off some Christmas desserts.  The boys played with legos.  I answered some texts and emails and got my living room back to beautiful.  I spent one last hour by the Christmas tree wrapped in our new soft throw with my mug of hot cocoa.  Tomorrow we will take it down and we will try again for a full day of school.

Later we had a family home evening about burying our swords (and light sabers and sais) like the people of Ammon, by giving up old habits or repenting of old sins.  2016 is gone, let our bad habits die with it---the year is dying let it die (such a sad hymn).  And we talked about aiming for the bullseye of the gospel.  We can't shoot our arrows and then draw the bullseye around where it landed.  We can't decide to just focus on our favorite piece of the gospel.  Christ has shown us the target and the bullseye when he told us about the two great commandments.  I read this amazing article by President Uchdorf about all of this and I absolutely love it! I find it so helpful in thinking about the gospel and teaching it to my kids.  Especially since both the burying of swords and the shooting of arrows involve weapons.  The boys acted the parts of the Lamanites and Nephites and I really think they understood it all.

And the two great commandments can be summed up so conveniently and beautifully in the word JOY.  To find joy and "hit the bullseye of the gospel" we must love Jesus and God, love Others, and love Yourself.  James incidentally can read the word JOY like a pro, and he said "Look! See the J on Jesus is also the J for JOY!"  He gets it.  I loved his excitement and love watching these kiddos understand things that I didn't until I was 21 or so and on my mission.  I truly want the world for these Keyes guys, and I want to give them opportunities and insights and lessons that will help them enjoy family forever, become their best selves, and help them be happy each day. Because those are the resolutions...

Why I don't like the new Cinderella

"You will love it!", two of my sweet sisters-in-law said about the new Cinderella with the pretty, super-blond actress from Downton Abby.  It looked fun, and possibly interesting.  It was there at the library, so it was free to check-out for a week.

It was one of 7 videos I checked out last week on my husband's birthday.  I drove over to the Pleasant Valley library-- so named because it is very pleasant and far from the downton, I mean the downtown, library that is being remodeled and is not so pleasant right now-- and as I drove,  I listened in the car, to former president Bill Clinton tell his "how I met and married my wife" story and his "why my wife should be your next president" pitch. It was a good speech by someone I don't totally trust, about someone I don't totally trust.  

We watched Brave, and Ninjago, and The Iron Giant, and Witches this past week, and then today I realized the movies would all need to go back, and we really should watch them first.  We still had Cinderella and two historical movies about Abraham Lincoln and Martin Luther King Jr.  They look like they'd be great for a fourth grade unit on American History, but the boys have not been very interested.  Nor have they been interested in Cinderella.  The cover shows the beautiful actress, photo-shopped and glowing, with her far-too-low-cut blue butterfly dress on, and her hair a bright blond crown around her perfect face.  The prince looks dashing, but mostly he looks bedazzled and smitten by this angel he is holding in his arms.  A few adjustments to the cover and it would be perfect on a romance novel.  So the boys had zero interest.  But it is 100 degrees outside, and I put the movie in without asking them what they wanted and so they watched it-- James wandered, and William chatted, but Peter sat and watched it and shushed his brothers as needed.  

I stopped watching it after Cinderella got to the ball.  I do not love it.  I do not even like it.  Cinderella is a very good girl.  However, she has very little personality.  She looks like she's 16.  She is terribly immodest for a kids' movie.  She does not stand up to her step-mother, but magically has a fairy godmother who speaks unintelligibly, yet manages to make all her dreams come true.  

There is probably a twist, right?  She has to stand up to her step mother at some point, right?  The prince decides he's really attracted to her mind, not her body, right?  I could not sit still long enough to see! I think when a cartoon princess looks perfect, and is perfectly good, that is one thing.  That is an impossible standard for a woman, but-- hey, it's just a cartoon.  It's not real.  BUT when the princess is real, and is not only already so beautiful and young, but also has all the camera tricks going for her, then the standard is still impossible, but is perhaps more dangerous.  

I would not want to be Cinderella's friend.  If I had to be a mouse, I suppose it would be good to be her friend, but otherwise, I find her impossibly good, and beautiful and irritating.  

And my boys, who will someday (sooner than I'd like to admit) begin really noticing girls, and deciding who is cute, and who they'd like to ask out, and date and someday marry-- and even kiss (gasp!) do not need to have a Cinderella paraded in front of them, lauded and crowned as the ideal woman.  If my Peter-boy does ever meet anyone as impossibly beautiful and good as Cinderella I will give her a thorough vetting and be certain she is also interesting, human, flawed, well-read, well-traveled, and devoted to my son-- and able to change a poopy diaper, make macaroni with one hand, have her own opinion, be willing to vote Democrat, and quote most of Galaxy Quest.  I have high expectations for my future daughters in law, and Cinderella just doesn't make the cut!

"Ring out the false, ring in the true. The larger heart, the kindlier hand"

"Just listen to the words while we sing, and think about this new year-- and yes, this hymn is a weird one."

Our bishop gave us this counsel today from the pulpit, before we began singing the closing hymn, on this first Sunday--this first day of 2017.  New Year's Day is not the easiest time to switch to 9 o'clock church, after the entire family has stayed up too late celebrating. But we were there on time, all five of us lined up on our favorite pew in the chapel, hair-combed, faces washed, church clothes tidy, with clean socks and matching shoes on. If the boys hadn't brushed out teeth, I couldn't tell.

Ring Out Wild Bells is a strange, melancholy melody for a mormon hymn.  The words (which were written by Tennyson) that I remember most include uncharacteristically (for a hymn) sad, dark  and cold imagery, "The year is dying, let it die.  Ring out wild bells and let him die."  It is the solitary New Year's hymn in the book, right after the 14 beloved, joyful Christmas hymns. But today as we were singing it, after the bishop's wise words, some different and very hopeful words stood out to me: "The larger heart, the kindlier hand.  Ring out the false, ring in the true."

These words could be my prayer every single day of the year, but especially on this the first day of a new and much welcomed year.  I want my heart to be enlarged, to be big enough to love all who cross my path.  A heart large enough to love the driver who cuts me off,  the Facebook friend who reposts the hurtful political memes, and even the wretched incoming president of our nation.  I want to be able to love my own family and kinsfolk with larger and more genuine love even when I am most annoyed and frustrated by them.

And a kindlier hand.  What a beautiful plea! The idea of my hands being kinder-- or kindlier-- not just my intentions, or my thoughts, but my actual deeds-- makes me think about the fact that actions not only speak louder than words, they make us who we are.  We become ourselves through our actions.  I wish this year for my hands to be busy every day with kindness.  I tell my children dozens of times a day that I love them, but what do I do to show that? Do I really listen when they're telling me about their days or their pokemon? Do I take time to read with them, to watch a cartoon with them, to play in the snow with them? I will.  I want to.  I want my hands to be weary at the end of the day from serving with kindliness!

So we seek to"ring out the false, ring in the true."  It really comes down to sincerity. How real am I? How concerned am I about appearances? I already pray every day for help to be more genuine.  But I work too hard trying to make people believe that I am kind and good.  To put my best foot forward and to not let others see my "striving foot".  The reality is that I am imperfectly trying every hour of every day.  I am imperfectly working towards my best self.  And I am unable to do any of it without my Savior.  If I genuinely and sincerely believe Christ, then I can be unafraid to be true.  I can pray that with the new year with true can be rung in, the false rung out-- and wrung out of me.  I hope to be more honest, genuine, real, true, and to allow others to see my strivings and my successes.

I keep thinking of the scripture, "All are fallen and are lost."  We are all broken.  But the great hope and joy and peace of the gospel is that Christ can fix us and make us better than we were before.  Recognizing my brokenness and imperfection and my absolute need for my Savior's healing hands allows me to partake of that joy in the midst of sorrow.

It has been a day. A full day. I am happy that we are in a new year.  I am happy to be stretched and to have the change to enlarge my heart and kindlier up my hands.  We have lots of family here right now, and I need to return to them.  Our home is full and loud and smells like roast and cookies and people.  The once clean house is a mess.  The beautifully prepared food is nearly gone.  The decorations are mussed and misplaced.  But people are here and they are happy to be here.  They do not want to leave our warm, comfortable, messy home.  I think they feel welcomed and loved, and this makes me happy.  I will sleep very well tonight.  Church, and new sunbeams (speaking of messy and loud and happy), and cooking a big full meal for all of Ryan's family--17 people--and presents.

I took a ride with the girls today--Callie and Tenley.  We went away to get out of the house while the other adults were napping and the boys were playing with legos behind closed doors-- no girls aloud. We went looking for deer.  We did not see any, other than some wire deer and a big inflatable one on various neighborhood lawns, but we had a lovely ride.  It was snowing lightly.  The girls were happy and talkative.  We listened to music from Curious George.  They like me and I like them.  And they like going for rides which my boys don't always like anymore.

Tomorrow the boys go back to school.  I am not ready for it.  We have had our share of sickness during this Christmas break, and although they had over two weeks, I want to keep them home with me forever.  But they need to get back.  And so it was to bed tonight-- earlier than they've been to bed all break (other than the days poor William and James were so sick they slept most of the day away and all of the night).  I need to think about clean clothes, and finding their boots and hats and gloves and back packs.  And wasn't there a library book that needs to go back?  Not ready for any of it, but so grateful for these weeks together.  I love my family.  I love spending Christmas all together the five of us in our cozy home.  I loved just being here together.  Perhaps the sicknesses--no, certainly the sicknesses kept us from doing some of the holiday activities we would have otherwise done.  But maybe that is not a bad thing since we had so much time just being together.

And now my oldest son is 10.  How can that be?! He looks and acts even older.  He loves having his birthday around Christmas time.  Which is a good thing, since it is.  He had a wonderful birthday building legos and making red velvet cake.  I'm so glad he is my boy and my first.  He gave a talk today in sacrament meeting-- as a ten year-old.  He wasn't the youth speaker and it wasn't the primary program.  He did so well.  He was confident and funny and sweet and sincere.  I was so proud and so was Ryan.  So many compliments from ward-members.  And he chose to speak about and sing his favorite hymn-- which is not Ring Out Wild Bells, but is Angels We Have Heard On High.  Hearing him speak and then sitting next to him as he sang the Glorias in the chorus, my heart burst with joy and love and pride.  He is growing into an amazing young man.  He already is one.  I hope I tell him that enough.

And so the year begins with so much learned in a day and a million things more to learn every day.  Welcome 2017! I truly and sincerely hope to be able to write every day this year.  I want to record what my boys and Ryan and I are doing.  I want to record the things I learn about life and specifically about love and joy.  My bungalow boys are true masters of joy! I found out today that my friend Sunni (who always seems to be five steps ahead of me) is expecting her fourth boy in June.  When I saw that on Facebook I burst into tears.  I don't often burst into tears, but I did-- I burst.  I love her and her family and she has wonderful boys.  But that is what I want more than anything. More children.  I love my children so much it hurts and I want to add to our family.  I'm not done.  And so we will try.  I suppose truly though, what I want more than anything is for my family (of 5 or 6 or more) to be happy, nay to be joyful.  I want them to believe Christ too, when He says He can save them and make them whole.  I want them to feel that hope and joy every day.  And I want them to love and be loved.  That is what I want more than anything.  And if we can make our family a family of 6 or 7 this year-- all the better.

"Ring out the darkness in the land.  Ring happy bells across the snow."  And it is snowing again and will be all week.  I love it.