304. Purple

Pride greed vanity
A cacophony of sound
Purple has limits

303. Race Day

Saturday I ran a 5K. It was my first time running a set distance outside in about fifteen years. Though I have been working toward this race for a few months now, I have only ever been running in a controlled environment on a treadmill, where I could see my pace and my progress. This race was different. I had no indication of how fast I was going, how far I had gone, or how much longer I still had to go. That ended up being the hardest part for me. Although the 42degree, windy morning was a close second. But I loved it. I loved the excited faces of the runners around me while we waited for the start. I loved the parents running with their kids, the two dad’s pushing strollers, the siblings encouraging each other to keep going. But my absolute favorite part was the final stretch. My chest hurt so badly that I just wanted to stop. I don’t do cold and I don’t do early and I don’t do long running. I wanted to give up. But as I approached the end, those runners who had already finished lined the final stretch and yelled words of encouragement to me and my fellow runners. They cheered for me to keep pushing through, to keep my feet turning, to give it all I’ve got. I was almost there. Just a little further. Finish strong. Their confidence gave me confidence and I was able to keep going and I did finish strong. I beat my expectations by several minutes. Apparently not knowing my pace made me run faster and harder than I thought I could. But those more experienced than me knew that I could.
I crossed the finish line with little personal fanfare. No one was there to greet me. The crowd continued cheering on those who were still coming. But in that moment when I saw my final time I was glad to have the moment to myself despite the mass around me. I was overwhelmed with pride in my accomplishment. I had done it, and in a time I had not thought possible for myself at this point. I will freely admit that I cried. I cried with relief at finishing, with pride in my time, and even a bit for the pain in my chest. Because I worked hard to achieve this goal and I had won.

302. For Tomorrow

Moses ran and Joseph fell

Abraham cried and Job was ill

Jeremiah ached with sorrow

Yet they all prayed for tomorrow

301. Blue

Patient and fluid

Moving to its own timing

Soothing calm and kind

300. Three Hundred Days

Three hundred days of rolling sweat
Three hundred days of smiles
Three hundred days of saying no
Three hundred days of wiles
Three hundred days of dinnertime
Three hundred days of wishes
Three hundred days of little toes
Three hundred days of kisses

299. Green

Fresh frivolity
Fear. Jealousy. Sickness. Calm.
Many sides to green

298. Yellow

excitement and cheer
effervescent happiness
yellow is joyful

297. A Dinner Bust

Some days you just fail with dinner. It happens far too often. One kid randomly decides he hates his favorite food. Another kid thinks her food would do better as wardrobe. It happens.
But then there are the bust days.
Oh, the bust dinners. When no one is satisfied. Those are the days that make a mother want to quit her kitchen forever. Today was a bust day.
I should have given up after the second, unsuccessful, hour-long shopping trip to find the rice paper spring roll wrappers. But I didn’t. I persevered and visited a third store, spent another half-hour searching, thinking my family would surely value my effort when I presented their delicious dinner. Ha. I stuck to it and found my ingredients. Fast forward to almost-dinnertime.
Janie was jumping up and down next to me as I prepared dinner, exceedingly excited to try this new dish. She wanted so badly to help, but the fragility of the wrappers and my patience prevented her assistance. She helped set the table instead. When all we finally ready, the food was blessed and she anxiously took her first bite. Her smile immediately vanished. To her credit she never once grimaced, complained, or asked for something else to eat. She soldiered through about half her plate before finally asking if she could finish it for breakfast (our way of asking if she could be done).
Thomas took a few bites, then asked for soy sauce. And more soy sauce. And more soy sauce. He was never satisfied. He finished about a third of his plate before he tried to leave the table.
Berto simply threw his food on the floor. I think he may have eaten a single cucumber stick.
Jay and I both ate two of the rolls, though without much gusto.

I ended up making kraft macaroni and cheese.

296. The Mormon in the Room

Twice a month I attend a meeting for moms of preschoolers held at a local Lutheran Church. The meeting itself is non-denominational. Most of the women are Lutheran, but some are Methodist, some Baptist, some Catholic, some without a designation. It’s not something that we make a point to talk about, but our religion and church attendance is a part of our lives, so our backgrounds occasionally are brought up. Today the women of my table learned that I am a Mormon. It came up naturally, we talked pleasantly about it for maybe three minutes, and then we moved on.
About an hour later, near the close of our meeting, one of the women, in a conversation near but separate from me, cussed. It was a mild word that didn’t faze me in the slightest and I probably wouldn’t even have remembered it except that she paused, looked at me and said genuinely “oh I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that with you here.” It was a small moment, but it brought to my mind the importance of living your standards. I had never mentioned that I don’t swear, and nor had she ever before apologized for swearing in my presence. I was not bothered by her choice of words. So to me it was obvious that at some point in her past, this woman knew a Mormon well enough to know that we, as a people, generally don’t swear, and that she respected that person, whoever they may be, enough to apologize to a completely unrelated person simply because we follow the same standards. I was touched that she said this little thing, made this little acknowledgement to my faith and culture. It was simple, but it warmed my heart. This is the importance of taking Christ’s name upon ourselves. When people find out I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, I no longer represent only myself. I represent the other 13 million members of this church. I represent what we believe and what we stand for, even if I am not actively proselyting. I can only hope that someday I will be the reason someone withholds an unkind word or shares a smile with someone I have never met.

295. We Will Be Bold

When life is a mystery
When fear gets us down
If trials o’ertake us
And errors abound
We’ll plunge through the darkness
Our swords for the fold
With God as our conqueror
We will be bold

294. Wonder Women

I am a recent convert to Wonder Woman. I fully admit that until the recent film I knew next to nothing about her. My only knowledge was that she has black hair and wears a scant amount of clothing. But I enjoy superhero movies and had heard good things about this one so I saw it and fell in love. This is a woman I want my daughter to admire. She embodies love and goodness and kindness, and THAT is what drives her. She fights for goodness and love, not revenge or justice. She is bold and fierce and strong. She is intelligent and curious and clever and responsible.
As Halloween approaches this year I have noticed an abundance of female superhero costumes. Most are the pink girly versions of male superheroes, but not Wonder Woman. She is her own stalwart lady. Last night I overheard a conversation between a mother and daughter in which the mother tried to convince her child to pick a different costume (I had just managed to snag the very last Wonder Woman costume for Janie) and the daughter told her “Batgirl is lame and Supergirl isn’t as strong as Wonder Woman.”
So I look at my daughter, who loves all things princess and sparkles and fairies and happily ever after, and it delights me that she chose to dress up as this mighty warrior this year. This is a role model that I can get behind. She stands up for herself, she knows what she wants and works to get it, and still makes sure to find love and joy in her world.

293. Orange

Anticipation
Fervor dipped in honesty
Excitement and hope

292. Red

Ferocious. Mighty.
Flames. Pain. Temper. Anger. Love.
Red is passion

291. Black

Standing steadfastly
Penetration is futile
Ebony absorbs

290. White

Pure and untainted
Reflecting blindingly bright
Forever to stand

289. Pumpkins

Three little pumpkins sitting by the door
Wait for a chance to roll across the floor
Watching every visitor ring the bell.
Who is coming? We won’t tell.

Two little pumpkin sitting by the door
Where’s their friend? He went to the store.
Twiddling their stems, these pumpkins bored to tears,
Soon their swapping stories and telling bout their fears.

One little pumpkin sitting all alone.
Somebody is coming; he sits as still as stone.
Peeking in a bag gets a great surprise
Ten more pumpkins greet him with excited “hi”s

288. The Prayer of Enos

One of the books in The Book of Mormon is written by and about the prophet Enos. In this story, we learn how Enos prayed for the salvation of his own soul, his people, the Nephites, and the enemy people, the Lamanites. I have known this story for as long as I can remember. And I’ve always read it and been taught about as Enos was a good man who prayed for himself, his people, and his enemies. Good for him.
But though I have known this story and its place among the rest of the Book of Mormon stories, today I was given a moment of clarity by a simple phrase, spoken in passing by someone teaching about Enos’ devotion to his people and his enemies. “Enos was Jacob’s son.” I knew this. It’s very clearly stated in the scriptures. But I never once before now made the next connection. Enos was Jacob’s son. He was Lehi’s grandson. He was Nephi’s nephew, Laman’s nephew. Lamar and Lemuel were Enos’ uncles. Their children were his cousin. His family. This is what finally dawned on me today. Enos wasn’t just praying for some obscure group of barbarians. They were his cousins. He was praying for the salvation of his family members. This wasn’t a prayer of general welfare. He was likely seeing the faces of individuals that he knew and loved. His father grew up with the people he prayed for. He probably knew each of them by name, and having read the writings of his father, Uncle, and grandfather, he knew the disposition of his uncles. He knew the chances his cousins had of learning the Gospel were slim to none.
That is why he prayed all the day and into the night. This wasn’t a plea for general world peace; it was an effort of love for each of his lost family members. It was a plea for the individuals that made up the group. How much greater, then, must have been his relief and joy when his prayer was answered with a promise of salvation for these people. He knew his cousins would find eternal peace despite his uncles’ hard hearts and unwillingness to teach their children truth. His family could have peace.

287. Alone

alone alone
You’re not alone
When you are truly cherished
For though your heart is far away
For love will never perish

286. Mommy

Three
Children
Fill my heart
Hugs and kisses
Adventurous days
Sweetest angels by night
I adore their little hands
“I love you, Mom” brightens my day
Though some days bring frustration and tears
Nothing compares to being their mommy

285. Grout

Grout is the devil
Evil evil evil bad
Wonder how I feel?

284. Stinky

Sweaty as a lion
Tingling your nose hairs
I know that you can smell me
No really, don’t come near
Kangaroos would hop away
You really don’t want me to stay

283. Time Moves On

As our lives run ahead
Our day to say path
The changes we see
Hide from us

Why can we not see
Right under our nose
The growth of our baby
Into a child

All at once
It’s happened to us
Something has changed
Forever

282. if only

If only you knew how hard it was not to laugh
If only you saw
If only you heard the squelch of the mud on your face
If only you knew

If only you knew what you did to my fragile self-image
If only you were kind
If only you hadn’t been so self-absorbed
If only I hadn’t trusted

281. Moroni

Mighty and meek
Overlooking his people’s Destruction
Recorded the message of God
Only one left
Nephite wandering alone
Imagine the desolation

280. Tile

Time
Is
Laying
Eternally

279. Foxes

Boxes and boxes of foxes
Slink through a whole herd of oxes
Quicker than ticks on the clockes
Stumble on big mossy rockes

278. Forgiveness

I was listening to the radio while driving and a song came on that I’ve heard pieces of over the last week but never really listened to. This time, as I only had one child in the car and he was happily quiet, I was able to listen to the words. 

It was very emotional to me—a song about a woman realizing her strength after leaving an abusive relationship. But then, just when I thought “wow, this is strong. Good for her” she sang out “but some things only God can forgive.”

I was hurt. Hurt for her. Hurt for me. Hurt for any person who has been abused, whether physically or emotionally. Forgiveness is an immense gift, probably even more so for the giver than the receiver. Holding on to that anger and pain can not help anyone to truly break free of the bonds of abuse. That hate and fear stunts. I know that it is hard to forgive, but that freedom that forgiveness provides is beautiful. 

Two weeks ago my sister showed me a video of a concentration camp survivor talking about forgiving one of the men who worked at the camp. For her, like many, the idea and effort of forgiving her tormentor, was painful. But once she was able to release that anger, she, herself, felt free. She, after nearly fifty years, was no longer a slave to that trial. 

This past weekend I heard about a man whose four year old son was killed when hit by a car. The driver was a neighbor, a teenage boy. But instead of letting their sorrow overwhelm them, they forgave this boy. They were comforted because they refused to hold on to that anger. Instead of hard feelings, a loving friendship was formed. They later attended his graduation and his wedding. With Gods help, their ability to forgive created something beautiful for them, and created safety for this boy. 

With these two brilliant examples in my mind, I listened to this singer and wished she knew. I wished she could see how much stronger and braver she could be. I wished she could feel that freedom, that lightness, of forgiveness. Because there is nothing that ONLY God can forgive.

277. Real or Image

What if everything you ever knew was a lie—if you woke up one day in a different reality: mountains communicated to each other by changing dust patterns, birds were slaves to the waves.
What would you do? How would you cope? Would you ride along, pretending you understood this bizarre life? Would you ram your head repeatedly into a reflective surface, only to fall up into the mouth of a volcanic ocean? Who would you be in that new world?

276. Maybe You Are, Maybe You’re Not

Maybe you are

Maybe you’re not

Maybe you’re cold

Maybe your not

Maybe you’ve won

Maybe you’ve fought

Maybe you’re free

Maybe you’re caught 

Whoever you are

Don’t give it a thought

Just be who you are

Not who you’re not

Apastasaurus

Apastasaurus likes to eat his noodles plain and sticky

He’s not a fan of meatballs

He thinks they’re rather icky.

Apastasaurus throws his 

macaroni on the wall

He likes the way it slides down slow

And forms into a ball.

Apastasaurus is a fan 

of chicken fettuccini.

He slurps the strands and chomps the meat until it’s very teeny.

Apastasaurus blows his peas

Right through his penne tubes

He frowns when Mom makes carrots, which are cute up into cubes.

Apastasaurus always helps 

his mom wash up the dishes

So he can make a bigger mess

Giving orzo to his fishes

274. Prophets

The Father speaks through Prophets dear

If we will only hear

He speaks of kindness love and joy

His words we may enjoy

Repent, Remember, Be as one

Come, Follow Him

Love thy neighbor as thyself

Forsake your every sin

The Prophets and apostles say

The words Christ gives to them

Come listen to the Prophet's voice

He'll lead you home again