Do you remember that time when we changed the world?

I guess for most you'd've hardly noticed it. What with life moving by at thousands of miles an hour. What with cities crowded to capacity with people hustling and bustling their lives away. What with bombs and guns everywhere struggling to decide who is right and who is otherwise. What with our being infintisimally small in size to a reality, a universe, much larger in size. You'd've hardly noticed two honest young hearts knitting themselves together in a pledge to weather every triumph and hardship together. You'd've hardly noticed in a world of romantic divorce two honest hearts who pledged and had sealed an eternity together. Really you'd've hardly noticed that when everyone sees a world getting darker, bleaker, and more unfair there was a pair who said to the contrary.

I noticed though.

When there was only lust and hate we added love. When there was chaos and laziness we added order and a dynamic. When there was only the rest of the world we added us. And the world stands forever bettered by a love founded in Christ. A hope founded in the gospel. And a trust founded in one another. I love you--and one day the world will take note.

A Great Toe and a Great Doc

The medical reference for your largest toe is actually "great". They like to call it the Great Toe. (And here I've been cursing it for a good portion of my life.) Had I known this toe was supposed to be great and not just big, I may have held it to higher expectations. Maybe I would have seen a doctor a lot sooner than I did. Unfortunately, I didn't learn the correct terminology until Tuesday when I met Dr. Lindsey of the Surgical Associates of Ithaca.

Perhaps our acquaintance was meant to be. He was the perfect mix of friendly and direct, contained in the form of a large, older man with round, rosy cheeks. Any phobia of sharp instruments or misgivings about the procedure subsided upon first encounter. He told me the Association passed all foot problems off to him. He became a professional in fixing feet when he performed emergency procedures in damp Vietnamese fields. I was grateful that anesthesia and a dry, clean facility were available in my case.

And so he fixed my foot. At least I think he did. I made it through today without relying on coma-inducing Percocet, though I'm still waiting for the pain to relinquish and I'm still washing and dressing the wound. When the gauze is gone and my toe stops throbbing, I may start replacing "big" for "great" in my own terminology. I sure hope it's going to be great.

I Was Blind but Now I See

My eyes were barely functioning, Friday.

This happens sometimes.

I usually blame it on the age of my contacts. I tend to wear them until they tear. But this time, when I started my day feeling a bit blind, I knew I couldn't blame the contacts. They're brand new.

I mentioned my predicament to Mom. She seemed unconcerned --thought maybe it was cyclic or having to do with differences in water retention or something that would fix itself. So I went merrily on my sightless way.

Friday night we had a family dinner to bid farewell to my grandparents who were making their semi-annual migration over the weekend. I had been preparing a piano arrangement of my grandpa's favorite song for the occasion, but I had yet to memorize it (I really wasn't planning to ever memorize it). When I sat down to practice Friday morning, I realized my lack of sight would be detrimental to the performance because I needed to read the notes. I could not tell the lines from the spaces on the sheet music. We enjoyed dinner with my grandparents without any entertainment from the lady. Oh well. I'll see them again in 6 months.

Saturday was a new day. I was hoping it would also be a new day for my eyes, but the world was still mysteriously blurry. We visited the Science Center and Wegmans, then attended the evening session of Stake Conference. I drove my boys and June Howard home afterward so that Patrick could stay for more. All of this I did feeling oh so handicapped and headached and frustrated. But I tried not to let on. At home, the boys made it to bed long past their bedtime (feeling handicapped makes me move slow too). As soon as they were tucked in, I rushed to the bathroom determined to experiment with my eyes until I found a solution. And just as I reached in to take the right contact out, an idea exploded like a firework in my head: This is the left one.

No, I thought, this is the right one.

Just try it, the response exploded just like the first.

So I carefully made the switch, still feeling doubtful. I'm not that careless, I reasoned. Who switches their contacts? The result said it all. It turns out I am that careless and I did switch my contacts. It probably wasn't the first time either. I've trashed many many contacts thinking they weren't working because they were too old. Turns out, they probably had ended up in the wrong eyes. Now I know.

Around the Burg

Who ever thought that getting lost in the Finger Lakes could be so much fun?

All my thanks goes out to T-burg Mini Golf for being so much more than just a well kept miniature golf destination (which it is, I might add.) As the season for golfing is just beginning, those ingenious entrepreneurs have already devised a plan and begun planting. Those plantings sit in the background, (on the other side of a hedge, actually) and unfold slowly throughout the summer months. When the weather for golfing is a thing of the past, that inconspicuous field suddenly becomes the main attraction. And what an attraction! A map of the Finger Lakes etched right into a 10 acre landscape of corn is really quite amazing, if you ask me.

Successful explorers enter the maze at the bottom of the "S" in Finger Lakes, journey through all eleven Finger Lakes, learn a little bit about each lake on the way, find their way through a race car, a hot air balloon, a bunch of grapes, and a wine bottle, and exit at "Stewart Park" in Ithaca. There are checkpoints throughout the maze (eleven of them). At each checkpoint, you get information which helps you to correctly answer eleven questions about the Finger Lakes. If you answer all correctly, your name is entered into a drawing. The Grand Prize? An aerial trip for two over the maze and surrounding area (The Burg)! Sweet, huh?

You can make your way through this maze during any day of your choice, but if you wait for Friday or Saturday evenings, you can experience the wonder of this brilliant piece of work with a flashlight. If you wait for the flashlight experience Friday, October 3oth, the maze will be haunted! That's not really my thing, but I thought I'd put it out there.

PTB and I chose the flashlight experience. And it really was an experience. We were given the map all folded up and encouraged not to use it. We didn't use it (though at one point it was really tempting) and somehow made it out before closing time, but after we got back to home base, we opened our folded paper and just shook our heads in amazement --that we even made it out before the following morning. The opportunities to get lost are plenty. Read: 3 miles of paths! Therefore, if you plan on taking me up on this, allow for an hour. Our time: 45 minutes. But we were really lucky. And we ran through some of it. Yes, ran with our flashlight.

Trumansburg Mini Golf

1966 Trumansburg Road (Route 96) Trumansburg, NY 14886

That's on Rte 96 on your way to Jacksonville

there will be more laughing today

Julia came over for lunch. She and my boys sat at my kitchen table, playing with play dough as I finished up food preparations. I could tell that my boys thought Julia was something pretty spectacular. You should have heard them laughing. They laughed and laughed like they were being tickled. She wasn't even touching them. After lunch, Nolan whispered in my ear, "Can I play again...With her?"

Julia isn't a child, she is my friend, but she sure knows how to be fun for a child. After she left, I was still thinking about adjusting my sails, and I knew that I desperately need to be more fun. I want to hear laughter from my boys. Daily. Hourly. And not just when their dad gets home. I want to make them laugh like they're being tickled without even touching them.

The Acquisition of a Sister

April 2000: With the Livster

My mom mentioned that my sister is flattered whenever I write a tidbit about her. In her eyes it's a moment of fame (we won't tell her the truth). I don't know if I was supposed to take that as a hint, but assuming I was, this is a story of Olivia.

I always wanted a sister. I had a brother. He was hip. He did neat stuff. But I always wanted a sister. Until I was 12. When I was 12, I determined to be satisfied with a brother and ergo never gave sisterdom another thought. Until I was 14.

When I was 14, I had to get my wisdom teeth removed. If you ever know anything about me, know this: I have a phobia of needles. It has affected my life in countless ways. In this instance, it ended me up with a sister. Well, not exactly, but when I stood up --then fell down-- after the surgery, it seemed like it. Let me explain.

The anesthesia was administered through an IV. Had I known this beforehand, I would have opted to keep my wisdom teeth. Fortunately, for the sake of procuring a sister, I was unaware of any needle involvement and found myself sitting in the oral surgeon's squishy chair receiving the unexpected news that needles were, in fact, involved. At that point I freaked out. To put it lightly. I don't remember if my mom was in the room or if they had to invite her in, but she bent down next to the squishy chair and tried all of the secrets she'd learned over 14 years of mothering to make her phobic child calm down. She must have been getting frantic, because as a last ditch effort, she blurted out, "I'm having a baby!" That was weird. It was weird enough that I sat there in a stupor as they stuck me with needles, pumped me full of drugs, and began wiggling sharp objects in my mouth.

And that's how I got a sister.

Adjusting My Sails

enduring happiness... can be enjoyed even when the world is in turmoil and most are anything but happy

Thankfully, we choose our own happiness.

Happiness is not the result of circumstance or of the actions of other people. Happiness does not come by chance or by pennies flung at wishing wells. Happiness is the product of acting according to what one knows to be true. Thus, if you've recently been saying to yourself, "things around here have got to change", it's time to take a good look at yourself. Start acting more according to what you know is true. Try it out. You might first have to assess how you've been acting (or reacting, but if you've only been reacting, then there's your answer). It's more than plausible that you won't have to do a formal assessment. You likely already know how you could change. And even if you don't think you're the thing needing to change, I wish you luck in changing somebody else if they don't see you working on yourself.

If you're taking this to heart, little reader, or even feeling a little defensive, then great. Take it to heart. Go. Do.

We cannot direct the wind but we can adjust the sails {Vince Lombardi}

But the truth is that I'm writing this for me. (How selfish, I know.)

Because I've had enough of some things. For one, I've left Sacrament Meeting in frustration one too many times. And I'm tired of feeling less than accomplished at the end of the day. Which doesn't mean I'm about to do more necessarily. Maybe my ideas and goals need to be adjusted. Or maybe I simply need ideas and goals. All I can say right now is "things around here have got to change." I'm going to change them. Because I choose my own happiness.

And because I want to be the best mom for these guys:

Around the Burg

October 16, 2009

The Burg, NY

We woke up to this:

It's not at all unusual to have snow of this quantity long before Winter's official commencement. We T-burgundians have come to expect and accept our fate. But the first snowfall still feels a little surreal every year. Not everywhere in the world can you annually experience heavy snow on colorful Maples. It's really quite mesmerizing.

Old, Broken Down, and Forgotten (thanks PTB)

Cemeteries fascinate... probably most people... but especially me. Especially on cold, rainy days (or so PTB claims, but it may be the truth). There is something both sad and hopeful in the combination of fresh rain on an old cemetery.

In the spirit of fascination as well as investigation, I included "visit cemetery" on my list of errands to run in Ithaca Monday. I've exhausted (for now) the need to search in the Grove, so I'm on to other towns... Danby, Lodi, Reynoldsville, Watkins, Auburn, and Ithaca. My people have been here for a very, very long time. They're buried all over the place and I like to find them. Anyway, we got a tarp at Lowe's, wasted time in Wal-mart, then made our way up the east hill to the sacred acreage located next to Cornell University.

First burial: 1790

Charity Vanorder buried: 1842

Cornell University founded: 1865

This cemetery is just as old as the one in Trumansburg, but there are some big differences. The cemetery in Ithaca is balanced precariously on a steep hill. The edge of it is a cliff. Grove Cemetery in Trumansburg is mostly flat. Unlike the Grove's map and records (which I once unwittingly complained a bit about) the organization and record keeping of the Ithaca Cemetery is lacking at best. To find Charity Vanorder's plot would require a lot of time spent staring at stones. This leads to the most noticeable difference: maintenance. I'm not talking about mowing the grass either. I'm pretty sure that Grove Cemetery is typical as far as cemeteries go. It's old and the older stones look old and some are illegible or crumbling, but that's nature. It's obvious that even the older stones have been looked after and reverenced. In some cases, they have been fixed up or even replaced. On the other hand, the cemetery I visited on Monday had been "taken care of" in the opposite manner and not just by nature. It's likely that I may never find Charity's stone because a large amount of vandalization has taken place in the cemetery between Stewart and University. The fascination I feel for cemeteries is tinged with reverence for lives that have been lived, struggles that have been triumphed, foundations that have been laid --for people to come. Unfortunately, not everyone feels the same way. The widespread scattering of broken stones on the edge of the cliff was ample evidence of that --perhaps the consequence of establishing a large institution for young (sometimes drunk) people right next to something so inherently fascinating. I left feeling sad and disappointed.

the potential for music

Our living room got a little smaller last night. If you've seen my living room, you may be wondering how that's possible. I'll use a one-word explanation:

piano.

This piano has been ours for two years now, but the last time we moved, we left it with my grandparents indefinitely. I've been hoping for it ever since. Not that it's the highest quality instrument in the world. My mom found it on the Ithaca Free Cycle back in the day. The piano was damp and cold, having been forgotten on somebody's porch for ages. It didn't make a sound the first time it sat down in my living room. I was genuinely worried, but resolved to wait (for a miracle?). Within a month it made noise. Just noise --so I kept waiting. By the time we left it behind, it was playing every key --at least sort of.

Last night, with the help of some friends, we dusted off our free upright and brought it home to be our own. The transition turned the once-dainty little thing into a mammoth of a piano. It looks extra long in our living room. PTB even asked me last night if it was larger than a normal upright. Though I'm sure it is the normal size, it takes up a third of the living room, leaving space enough for the couch, an armchair, and a path between. Nothing more.

Now our home feels a bit more friendly and inviting all because we miraculously squeezed three pedals and 88 keys into our ridiculously small living room. Isn't it amazing what a little music can do? Or even just the potential for music?

Around the Burg

Over the summer, Trumansburg took a momentous step toward joining the modern world as it welcomed a 24-hour business (the first and only). Now residents of our beloved burg can pick up some forgotten necessaries or fill their empty tanks -- after dark... and before dawn! The idea breathes freedom to a lady who has gone most of her life with the notion that if it's past 9:30 when you realize you've run clean out of milk or eggs, you might as well forget it.

Now, all you city folk are probably thinking, No big deal, we've had convenience stores, 24-hr groceries, and Wal Mart since 1910. I agree, it's fairly ridiculous to me that such an idea wasn't proposed fifty years ago. I'm sure that even my great-grandparents made their share of late night runs to Ithaca for something as silly as a loaf of bread. But I'm not taking you on a tour of the Burg each week so that we can all laugh at my parochial village. I'm here to tell you that this 24-hour business is more than the average. Allow me to list for you a few wonderful peculiarities of T-burg's latest:

• new and modern, but still fits a small village (i.e. it's almost charming)
• a convenience store, but not the 7-11
• clean and simple, but spacious dining inside
• an ice cream window
• non-hormoned dairy
• milk in glass bottles
• cheese from local cows
• a bazillion flavors of ice cream

Introducing:

(T-burg Style)

Come check it out. Located on Main Street in The Burg (just like everything else).

Pooka's First Haircut (on the top)

When I cut The Pook's unruly hair, Nolan attended the event. Gerret sat still for me and looked straight ahead. I was so proud of him. I can't even bribe Nolan to sit that still.

When the job was complete, Gerret reached his hands up and felt his fresh-cut top. His buzzed head felt so soft. His hands could not leave it alone. His eyes seemed a bit brighter (maybe because I could see them at last).

By this time, Nolan had lost interest and wandered off, so I called to him, "It's done!" He came running back and stopped mid-run when he caught sight of his brother. He was so astonished by Pooka's new look that his eyes got real big and he exclaimed:

It's a new boy!

Then quietly remarked,He looks like a rock star.

A Chilly Day at the Orchard

We picked apples before noon in the crisp air of mid-autumn. The season for picking is almost closed. Apples with their rotten bottoms filled the orchard floor.

The farm was friendly to visitors --even little boys-- complete with wagons, big red barns, a store of goodies, sheep, donkeys, goats, tractors, and Halloween displays.

Gerret picked one apple, then held onto it for dear life (except to show Grandma). Nolan insisted on dragging a bag full of fruit behind him as he excitedly ran between trees, collecting all he could off the lower branches. When he picked an apple, but got the branch, he squealed with laughter.

Our ride home, through the colorful hills, down Cayuga was picturesque. In fact, I petitioned my mom to stop the car so I could take a picture of the lake. So, once again, here she is:

Hey Lady, What'd You Do This Weekend?

This weekend, I heard beautiful truths. I listened with ears that hear and a heart that knows and understands. For that I was blessed immeasurably.

I was enveloped in warmth and filled with a peaceful assurance.

I experienced deep gratitude for and recognition of many, many blessings.

I knew, again, that I am a daughter of God, that I am loved, and that I am here to do something great.

I wondered if what I know is always reflected in what I do.

I understood more what is important and what is not.

I felt encouraged and more hopeful about living in what appears to be a failing world.

I acquired increased courage to continue working and accomplishing, serving and lifting, learning new things and acquiring new skills, creating beauty and planting seeds, teaching my children and building a family --even amidst such uncertain conditions.

I felt greater desire to love my husband, my children, my parents, my siblings, my friends, the strangers in my community, and the strangers across the world.

This weekend, I heard beautiful truths and they uplifted my spirit. They filled me with increased faith.

Faith casts out fear and motivates action. Do more. Do better. Be something. Faith offers comfort and security --as it is acted upon.

My faith was bolstered and enlarged. All. Weekend. Long.

So now I need to go and do and be.

You can listen too. Or start reading this Thursday.

Around the Burg

A Glimpse of the Finger Lakes

One thing I absolutely love about the Burg are the views. There are all kinds of beauties here, but today I would like to briefly touch on just two --Seneca and Cayuga.

The Finger Lakes are a chain of more than 7 north-south running, fresh-water bodies lined up neatly across much of Upstate NY. Seneca and Cayuga proudly sit together in the middle, the longest and deepest of the bunch. Situated along the hills between the two are a string of small villages. And when the inhabitants of these villages travel from place to place or within the limits of their own towns, they are constantly catching glimpses of these two lakes from high up on the hills. Oh my, those glimpses are like a piece of heaven, or at least a good reminder of what heaven might be like. Sometimes when I see even a small patch of lake from between thick rows of trees, I think perhaps this is why my ancestors settled here and never left.

Sound Advice and Old Pictures

I don't feel like writing yesterday, today, or tomorrow (though I may still yet). But here are two unrelated photos from deep in the archives. And I did find this inspiring...

Learn to like what doesn't cost much.

Learn to like reading, conversation, music.

Learn to like plain food, plain service, plain cooking.

Learn to like fields, trees, brooks, hiking, rowing, climbing hills.

Learn to like people, even though some of them may be … different from you.

Learn to like to work and enjoy the satisfaction of doing your job as well as it can be done.

Learn to like the songs of birds, the companionship of dogs.

Learn to like gardening, puttering around the house and fixing things.

Learn to like the sunrise and sunset, the beating of rain on the roof and windows, and the gentle fall of snow on a winter's day.

Learn to keep your wants simple and refuse to be controlled by the likes and dislikes of others.

by Lowell L. Bennion