{ thankful }

 Last night I took dinner in to a dear friend who is just beginning the fight for her life against breast cancer and who had just returned home after a double mastectomy.

It surely makes all of the 'Black Friday'

hype seem downright silly.

I think tomorrow I will hug my grandchildren a little longer, call my dear dad,

kiss my sweet husband, express thanks for my four children and their great spouses and let someone else get the deal of the season.

I already have the gold.

{ wisdom }

Maybe it's the shorter days and longer nights,

or maybe it's the lengthened streams of sunlight

in the late afternoon

or the quietness that comes

with children back in school

and frost on the grass

but whatever brings it on,

I find myself more reflective in the fall

as I think about my life,

my struggles, my triumphs,

my life lessons learned.

I gained empathy while experiencing loss,

freedom while breaking crippling bonds,

gratitude while holding my children,

reverence while honoring my mother's life,

testimony while applying the Atonement,

healing while seeking forgiveness

and laughter while remembering to look up.

I heard this song and was a little taken aback

by the term 'beautiful heartbreak' but

as I listened and thought of my own journey

I was grateful again for lessons learned,

testimony deepened,

understanding broadened

and the healing balm

of my Savior, Jesus Christ.

{my life story}

Me in DC circa 1990

Our daughter, Elizabeth, has expressed an interested in 

Mr. W and my life histories.  

I have narrowed the list of titles for my autobiography down to two.  

I can't decide between calling it "My Fancy Nancy Life" 

or . . . . "A Series of Unfortunate Perms".  

I'm sure it will be a fascinating read.

Anyone have a favorite?

On second thought, I think I should consider 

"A Series of Unfortunate Outfits".

Hmmm, this is a lot to think about.  

I'll tell Random House to hold the presses.  

(I actually think it would be fitting to have 

Random anything print my life's story.)

{Pumpkin for President}

This may explain some of the Pumpkin/Mr. W conflict -

they're both running for president!

Move over Mitt & Jon . . .

{ * i * am * special * }

Daniel's in the green shirt - May 2010

Yesterday my neighbor, Daniel, said

(with great thought & consideration),

"Sister West,

the most special thing

about you is

Pumpkin

(our anxiety ridden, hair pulling, crazy cat)."

Yikes!

* Please excuse me while I go

work on broadening my 'specialness'.*

learning my times tables

A little over 18 years ago on February 19th I was in the recovery room after delivering my third baby, Jason.  I had a (barely) three year old and a thirteen month old (January 19th) waiting for me at home.  I was overwhelmed by the task ahead of me but grateful for the safe delivery of this new baby boy.  As I laid there, I sensed the presence of another child destined for our family.  Obviously, fertility was not an issue for me and I assumed that in a couple of years (once I got my feet back under me and my brood a little older), we would welcome that child in to our family.


But God had other plans for me.

I recognize now that God had me feel that child at that moment so that I would have the courage to endure what was ahead of me.  I think that had I felt that at any other time I would have written it off as being 'baby hungry' but, because it came at a time when I was definitely not planning my next pregnancy, I knew it was a quiet prompting that I would need to reference back to in the years ahead.


During the next eleven years and as a result of an infertility work-up, I was diagnosed with severe endometriosis.  I went through laparoscopic surgery, Lupron hormone injection therapy, miscarriages, D&Cs, tears, heartbreak, grief, pleading with God, frustration with women who were carrying unwanted pregnancies and long stretches of not being able to conceive or conceiving only to lose the pregnancy at two months.

One night, after yet another ultrasound showed no heartbeat, I sat in my rust velvet swivel rocker and rocked and cried and cried some more as I grieved the end of a pregnancy and prepared my heart and mind for yet another D&C.  I had come to know all too well the look on the ultrasound techs' faces when they are unable to find a heartbeat.  Each time they would look and look and look, then place the call to the radiologist to come to the ultrasound room to confirm their findings and then the news that this pregnancy, with all of it's hopes and dreams, is over.  I even had one radiologist look at me and say, "Don't go buy maternity clothes.  You won't need them."


But still I clung to that feeling in the recovery room and I pressed on.

Ten years later, I was 35, my endrometriosis was severe and I had an appointment with my doctor to schedule a hysterectomy.  I felt like God knew my heart and I had tried.  Two days before my appointment, I found out I was pregnant.  With guarded optimism, I went to my appointment and prayed for the best.  Because of my age and medical history, I was considered a high risk pregnancy but I was praying that this pregnancy would be blessed and that I could carry this baby to full term.


On February 19th, exactly eleven years after that day in the recovery room (and two weeks before my due date), I delivered a healthy baby girl with big blue eyes and curly hair.


God had kept His promise to me but it was in God's time, not mine.  And in doing so, I learned that God keeps His promises, He is aware of me, He knows me by name and He knows the righteous desires of my heart.  He was always there - through heartache and triumph.  But in the process, He allowed me to grieve and grow, to trust and love, to wait and listen and to always show faith.

My baby girl is know grown up and graduating from high school on Thursday.  She is a daily reminder to me of God's miracles and promises.  During a very hard time in my life, she was a reminder that God's time table is not always mine but He is there - always.


I thought I had learned all of my times tables in 3rd grade with Mrs. Shoell but I have found that I had one more to learn from God and, in learning that one, I have been blessed.

where's the beef?

I have a pretty hard and fast rule about attending 'parties' that sell things.  I don't go.  I am also very reluctant to buy things from door-to-door sales people (my apologies to the very nice Asian women selling egg rolls from the trunk of her car).  I am gracious up to the point that they get obnoxious and then all bets are off.  With a quick "no", "thank you for stopping" (now get off my porch), "do you have a business license for Provo", I close my door and they're on their way.


As with all of life, there are some exceptions.

Last year I needed a gift for someone who has everything and so I agreed to my second Cutco Knife demonstration.  I saw it as a win/win.  I really like the young person selling the knives and I thought a $60 paring knife would be the perfect gift.  I sat through the demonstration, ordered the knife, put Amie one demonstration closer to quitting her sales job and presented Bonnie with the perfect gift (unfortunately, she already owns the perfect knife but I'm holding out hope that she will leave me the second knife in her will).

Last night as I used my $2.99 grocery store paring knife to cut up tomatoes for dinner, I realized that I will probably be able to go through life just fine without a Cutco knife unless . . . I plan to start serving cut up pennies or rope for dinner because we all know you need a Cutco paring knife to do that.

{s}NO{w}!!!

Saturday . . .

Sunday . . .

To:  Mother Nature
From:  Me
REALLY!?!


I don't know much but I do know this - I would not make a good Alaskan/Norwegian/Siberian/North Poleian/Anywhere North of Provonian.  This has been a loooonnnnggggg winter!  I think my mental fingernails are worn out from 'hanging on'.  Come to think of it, that kitty poster - the one with the kitty hanging on to the rope - has always bugged me a little bit.  I think a picture of some glorious chocolate would be much more motivating.  And could they come up with a different acronym for Seasonal Affective Disorder?  Do we really need to call it SAD?


Well, I'm off to dig out the snow shovels.  An optimistic Mr. W. put them away yesterday.

Love

Love one another

and you will be happy,

it is as simple

and as difficult

as that.

- Michael Leunig -

Spring . . . where are you?

It is a sad commentary on our loooooonnnnnnnnnnnnggggg winter and my state of mind when I put off throwing away a sprouting onion so that I can have a little green in my kitchen.  


(It's snowing as I type . . . . . . )

Sometimes even wise men (and women) get lost

Last year when I was packing up the Christmas decorations, I could not find two wise men.  I looked under the couch, in the newspaper basket, between the couch cushions and in the toy baskets.  I finally gave up and figured they would eventually show up or be lost forever.


To my surprise, I found them a couple of months later hiding behind the dollhouse furniture.  They quickly joined the rest of the Fisher Price nativity set in the basement until time to decorate for Christmas this year.
 
As I pulled them out of the box for my nursery lesson/Christmas decorating, I realized there was a lesson to be learned from their adventure.  I've reflected on my own life and realized that Satan doesn't have to get me to sin to render me ineffective - he just has to distract me.


Particularly in this season of hustle and bustle, it can be challenging to keep the 'one needful thing' at the top of our lists.  It is no coincidence that the gospel is 'the iron rod' - straight, strong and unwavering.  That there are specific reminders and warnings to the rich and learned.  That Christ's birth carries great power in its' simplicity.  And that each Christmas season we are given an opportunity to praise and give thanks for our Savior's birth, life, resurrection and Atonement.

Baby Aidan - December 2006

I hope that I will always be wise enough to look to Him and, when I stumble, find balance as I cling to the iron rod.


I think being wise is not about knowing it all but rather being willing to stop and ask God for direction (and turning around if necessary).


My wise men have rejoined their fellow wise man and are quietly watching over the manger.  I think I will join them.

Bezzant Nativity - 2006

An angel & a wise man - 2006

Remembering Sarah

Sometimes angels

have green wings.

A New Low

Today I walked over to say 'hi' to our newest nursery member and to let her pet Pumpkin.  Her family is temporarily staying at Grandma's house while her dad looks for a job and she, for some unknown reason to me, LOVES our anxiety-ridden, hair-pulling, twitchy cat, Pumpkin.  This little piece of information came in very handy yesterday when she started to miss her mom during nursery.  All I had to do was start talking about Pumpkin and she was fine.

As I visited with her dad this morning about how well she had done in nursery, he shared what she had said when they arrived home after church yesterday.  She said, "Dad, Pumpkin's mom is my new teacher!"

I'd feel that way too if I spent
all day pulling out my hair!

Excuse me, I have the urge to go pull some hair out.

Lessons from the Ark

Maybe they should have left the woodpecker home . . .

Everything I need to know about life, I learned from Noah's Ark:
   
      10. Don't miss the boat.
   
      9. Remember that we are all in the same boat.
   
      8. Plan ahead. It wasn't raining when Noah built the Ark.
   
      7. Stay fit. When you're 600 years old, someone may ask you to do something really big.
   
      6. Don't listen to critics; just get on with the job that needs to be done.
   
      5. Build your future on high ground.
   
      4. For safety's sake, travel in pairs.
   
      3. When you're stressed, float a while.
   
      2. Remember, the Ark was built by amateurs; the Titanic by professionals.
   
      1. No matter the storm, when you are with God, there's always a rainbow waiting.

(Thought posted at Curves)

Forget Me Not

Last week I discovered that 

my forget-me-nots had bloomed 

in my garden.

Later that day, I rediscovered one of my favorite pictures of my mom in her beloved red Ford Taurus.

I took the picture of my mom parked in my driveway in Pleasant Grove.  She is holding a basket used for fruit.

I consider both discoveries

tender mercies.

It is said that the wearer

of forget-me-nots

will never be forgotten.

My mom must be wearing

them every day. 

Green Pears

Have I mentioned that one of my favorite treats of this summer/fall season is a green pear?  Other than being aware that one must carefully time the eating of green pears with any and all upcoming social events, they are a delightful treat that comes once a year.  They are best when eaten directly off a tree.


Over the years my dad has entered fruit in to the Utah State Fair.  One year he discovered a pear tucked away in one of his trees that would surely take first place in the 'Biggest Pear' category.  He watched it grow and planned on picking it the day before fair entries were due.  When the day arrived, he hurried over to the orchard to pick this prize-winning pear.  To his dismay, the pear was gone.  It wasn't until the other fruit from all over the state was entered and on display that he realized that his brother, Cliff, had found his prized pear, picked it, entered it and won first prize.  All of his tender loving care of that huge pear had paid off nicely - a blue ribbon in fact - it just didn't go to my dad.


He never really said but I think that was one lost ribbon that was a little harder to get over.  It's one thing to be beaten by someone else but quite another to be beaten by your own success and hard work.

Being a gracious 'loser' was a great lesson my dad taught me that year as I munched on the pears that didn't make it to the fair.  It wasn't so much in what he said but in how he acted.  In fact, it became part of our family's lore and always garners a laugh when we remember 'Uncle Cliff's' prize winning pear.


Dad, thanks for the lesson and thanks for the green pears.

Courage

- Mom & her dog sitting on the edge of her cot -

I love calendars that have inspirational thoughts on them.  I hang mine in my bathroom where I can look at it and ponder while I'm blow drying my hair.  When I turned the page on my calender to July, I found this thought - "Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage." - Anais Nin


Yesterday was my mom's birthday and, as I thought of her, I thought of this quote.  When my mom was about five months pregnant with me, she developed appendicitis.  At that time there were no laproscopic techniques in place that would have enabled them to operate on my mom and preserve the pregnancy.  Faced with the possibility of her own death and on the advice of her doctors, it was suggested that she agree to abort the pregnancy and have surgery.  With great courage and substantial risk to her own life, she asked if they would treat her with antibiotics and see if that would resolve her appendicitis.  The doctor was willing to try this but reminded her that if that failed, there would be no choice but to end the pregnancy.  The advances in neonatal care were years down the road and so there was no chance of me surviving at five months gestation.

Obviously, the course of antibiotics combined with tremendous faith and prayers allowed my mom to recover, deliver a full-term baby (me) and live long enough to see her seven children raised and 28 grandchildren born.

- Four Generations -

The story surrounding my birth would in and of itself be considered miraculous but the overlying miracle to all seven of our births was that my mom was told that she would never bear children.  She contracted rheumatic fever as a child and was literally bedridden for a full year, unable to even put her legs over the side of the bed.  The doctors told my grandmother that my mother's heart was not strong enough to carry a pregnancy and survived the strain of birth.  My mother received numerous priesthood blessings of health and strength and was able to have seven children.  After my oldest brother, John, was born, the doctor told mom that she should not have any more children.  Her mother (my Grandma Adamson) marched in with her at the next appointment and told him very directly that God had promised her strength and the ability to be a mother in Zion and that he would preserve her to that end.  She told him that it was not his place to question God's blessings and that his place was to give my mom the best medical care available.  (I'm sure the doctor was just watching out for my mom's health, he just hadn't met my grandma yet!)  I have been blessed by my mother's courage and her willingness to trust in the Lord.

Throughout my life I have witnessed great courage.  I also recognize that many battles are fought in private and that great courage can sometimes be overlooked because we are unaware of the challenge hard fought. 

- My courageous neighbors - Joan is currently battling

a serious strep eye infection &

Christina is on a South African adventure

with her husband & five boys for a year. -

For my mom it was the courage to have children.  For my father, it was choosing church activity while growing up in an inactive home.  Yesterday we celebrated our twin grandsons birthday.  I was humbled at the courage shown by Jason and Kelli with their decision to start a family in uncertain economic times.  

- Cousins checking out the binky - 

- Bradley & Jensen's Birthday Party - July 10, 2010 -

I have witnessed the courage shown by sisters who have been willing to right a wrong, bear the burden of depression, battle addiction, return to gospel fellowship, visiting teach, purchase a modest prom dress, turn off an inappropriate TV show, serve in 'high' and 'low' profile callings, bless a ward in South Africa by modeling open-heartedness, fill a cannery assignment, refuse to gossip, befriend new ward members, commit to church attendance regardless of their spouses activity, teach a difficult Primary class, influence a struggling teenager, serve a mission, accept a calling, choose to not take offense and so many other things.  The strength of sisterhood is directly affected by the courage of it's sisters.  You have proven to be courageous and fierce in your defense of the gospel.

- Some of the sweet RS sisters of the 4th Ward -

I am better for having been taught by the sisters of this ward.  I love you and thank you for all of your support and love.

Love,  Nancy

* My farewell email dated July 11, 2010 to the Relief Society sisters in my ward on the day of my release as Relief Society President after serving for 3 1/2 years.*

The Cat Whisper

This post is dedicated to Christina Vanfleet.  She hates our cat.

A couple of months ago, Mr. W. declared our cat to be 'The Most Annoying Cat On Earth'.  (Please keep in mind that Mr. W. is very tolerant of all living creatures but Pumpkin's behavior has pushed him over the cliff!)  Our cat pulls out her own hair - obsessively!  Wherever she can reach, she pulls.  She has created a sort of sad Mohawk running down her spine.  Please know that Mr. W. would not necessarily mind if she pulled out her hair.  The problem he has with it is that she pulls it out either in the garage (loves to do it by the door leading in to the house) or on our front door doormat.  Every night when he comes home, he vacuums up the hair in the garage.  We even have a vacuum cleaner dedicated to Pumpkin's hair.  Frankly, if you didn't know about the cat hair you would think that Mr. W. is the obsessive one who just loves to vacuum the garage.  You would be wrong - he's just trying to keep the cat hair from being tracked in to the house.  I looked at the vacuum canister yesterday and, if I had a spinning wheel and was so inclined, I think I could make a cat hair sweater out of all of the hair Mr. W. has vacuumed up.  We got our cat from Betsy Johansen (thanks a lot - I think there may be an issue of defective genes - just a guess :)  It could be worse, Bonnie Morrow has the bulimic sister of our cat and Bonnie's cat is an inside cat.  Yikes!

Anyway, there is a TV program entitled 'The Dog Whisper'.  It is about a man, Caesar, who owns the Dog Psychology Center is LA and his work is to 'train people and rehabilitate dogs'.  As part of the rehabilitation, he uses a firm finger poke, foot tap or finger snap to 'snap' a dog out of a fixated or obsessive frame of mind.  The other day when Pumpkin started to pull out her hair, Vanessa decided to try the 'Cat Whisper' approach to try to stop Pumpkin's obsessive behavior.  It worked . . . briefly, and then as soon as we came inside, she was back to her hair pulling.  What is interesting to me is that by interrupting a cat's/dog's pattern of thinking, you can change their behavior.  Caesar never lectures, yells, bullies or uses excessive physical force with a dog.  Instead, his focus is being calm and assertive and the dogs soon mirror his state of mind.

By now you're probably wondering what in the world this has to do with anything but here's the lesson I learned the other day.

The other night I was talking (obsessing) to Mr. W. about my frustration with a person who will remain unnamed.  I was frustrated with what I perceived as a character flaw and the impact it was having on me.  After listening to me carry on for a few minutes, Mr. W. turned to me and said (in a very loving, calm way), "You know, that's who this person is and, to a certain extent, it will always be that way.  That's just the way it is."  What was so brilliant about the way he said it was that it was essentially a 'poke, tap, snap' that challenged my obsessive way of thinking, talking and feeling about this person.  As I stopped to consider positive aspects of this person (yes, this person has them!), I was a little ashamed that I had let myself get in to a 'barking for no reason/pulling my hair out' state of mind when it came to this person.

A couple of days later, I thanked Robert for the mental 'poke'.  Frankly, I think he was grateful that I 'got it' and relieved that I did without resentment towards him.

Sometimes, I think we all need a 'poke'.  Years ago, in the midst of a very hard personality difference with a sister in my ward who was serving in a Relief Society presidency with me, a bishop told me to grow a thicker skin (I went in looking for sympathy).  I needed that poke.  One time I complained to my dad about my in-laws.  He reminded me that they had raised a wonderful son and that for that reason alone, I should respect them.  I needed that poke.  Last year I repeated some one's somewhat unflattering perspective of a woman I didn't know well and a good friend reminded me that my knowledge was, at best, second hand and so really I didn't know the truth.  I needed that poke.  Honestly, as hard as I've tried to do the right thing, I've still received a lot of pokes in my life.

I think we all get in to patterns of thinking - some we aren't even aware of sometimes until they're firmly entrenched.  I've been grateful for Mr. W., family, prophets, friends, scriptures and all other sources that have 'poked' me at times in to better ways of thinking.  If I have 'poked' the sisters of this ward at times, please know that it was done with love.  It's amazing what the Lord can do with us if, when we are shown our weaknesses (spiritually 'poked'), are humble enough to make the self-bettering changes.

I'm off to take a turn vacuuming the garage mat :)  And then I'll call Bonnie and we can feel sorry for each other all over again.  If I could just find my receipt for the cat I could take it back to Betsy - oh wait, it was 'free'.

p.s.  A side note - I have taken the cat to the vet to check for skin diseases.  She's clear on mites and skin problems.  I asked if there is an anti-anxiety pill for cats.  Unfortunately, there isn't.  He did say that Prozac works great for dogs but the only think he could offer is to try birth control (for the cat, not me) and see if it helped.  Call me cheap but I am NOT going to pay for 'the Pill' (not to mention trying to get it down her throat every day) when I have already had her fixed.  We did have a brief spell two summers ago when Pumpkin would hunt out and eat the brown mushrooms in our lawn.  We would find her with a somewhat glazed look staring thoughtfully up at the sky.  Vanessa dubbed her the 'shroom, rehab cat.  Unfortunately, last summer she refused to eat the mushrooms (even when I led her to them - I hope that doesn't make me a drug pusher).  I promise they were for medicinal use (Mr. W.'s sanity) only.  I'm not kidding, even if you don't have anxiety, you will if you sit and watch Pumpkin for very long.

One day Daniel Vanfleet (our 4 year old neighbor) looked at our cat (with hair hanging out of it's mouth) and said, "Sister West, I really like your cat."  I told his parents that I hope he 'raises the bar' before he starts to date!  Apparently, the bar is VERY low when it comes to cats.