41 things to be grateful for on my birthday

1. knowing I have a Father in Heaven who loves me
2. a perfect Savior
   
3. a fairy tale marriage with prince charming
   
4. loving hardworking healthy parents
   
5. 8 great talented brothers and sisters who inspire me
   
6. that I have the privilege of being a mother
   
   
7. 5 beautiful active children
   
8. tender sweet-spirited nieces and nephews
   
   
9. America; my country that provides me with so many freedoms and opportunities and the men and women who fought for my right to vote and have equal rights
10. the beautiful city of Mesa
    
    
11. the Mesa temple
    
12. purified filtered water
13. the spirit I feel when I go to church and Relief Society
    
14. the kid’s club at the gym where my kid's play while I'm working out 
15. designer clothes I find at the thrift store for $1.00
    
    
    
16. a mother who thinks the world of me
    
17. kisses every morning from my daughter’s baby-breath lips
    
18. shooting stars
19. writing
20. dreams
    
21. book titles
    
22. a great romance book
    
23. General Conference
    
24. piano music
25. air-conditioning and ceiling fans
26. wild flowers
27. best friends (and the gifts of their friendship and time they share on my birthday . . . thank you, thank you, thank you)
    
28. a body that can heal itself
29. chocolate chips
    
30. Disney princesses
31. healthy food (and since I'm sugar-free, gluten-free, dairy-free these days, here's to my peach cobbler made with Ezekial cereal, stevia and coconut butter)
    
32. diving boards
    
    
33. all missionaries, especially amazing Temple Square sister missionaries of missions past
    
    
    
34. seniors who still see the world with the joy and innocence of children
35. Halloween, well actually halloween candy
36. a teenage boy who still kisses my before he heads off the school
    
37. orange trees
38. childhood memories
    
39. strangers who smile
40. people who are inspired to make a difference in the world like The Invisible Girl Project
    
41. Inspiring artists; musicians, writers, etc. K-Love and Air-1.  Here's to my current favorite song by Plumb.

I

A few days ago, I was listening to my boys resolve a dispute.

Generally speaking, this is what I got out of the conversation.

“I was going to do that,” one of them said.

“Well, I wanted to do it this way,” another replied.

(voices intensify)

“My way’s better.”

“I had the idea first.”

I.

For better or for worse. 

I believe Fraud called it ego.

A word with only one letter that means the entire universe to the person it belongs to.

Needless to say, I was frustrated because I wanted each child to see the others perspective.

This didn’t go over as well as I’d hoped and I started wondering what can I do to help them.

I am a deep thinker.  I blame this trait on my Ph.D psychologist father who leads the way in deep thinking.  Sometimes my contemplative personality serves me well, other times not so much.  For example, when I saw Les Mes I didn’t sleep for the two nights following.  I reflected much thought on the lyrics and portrayals of each character. I sang the songs over and over again in my mind.  I memorized the characters names and contemplated the symbolism in their personal struggles.  What did their lives teach me?  How could I change?  Finally, a trip to the nature store and some herbal melatonin helped me get through that experience, but needless to day; I am a reflector. 

With each of my individual child I interrupt who they are with much energy.  I reflect on their talents and gifts; their shortcomings and struggles and watch how they view themselves and react to the world.  I realize more and more their outlook on life is patterned very much on how I look at myself and the world.

Ouch!

Isn’t it fascinating and wonderful how parenting teaches you so much about your own weaknesses.

Time for some internal soul searching, but not in the typical sense.

Not in the I.

Not in the what can I get out of this.

Or.

How will this benefit me.

Because as a mother, I (there’s that word again) want for my children optimism and opportunity and love.  I want them to feel and search and achieve. 

Sometimes I forget they are just kids.  I try to remember what I was like at age 10 or age 7.  Remembering how much I missed my mom when I had my first sleep over or how upset I was when my favorite cereal was gone by the time I sat down for breakfast or how often I lost my little white church socks with the lace tops; these memories help me be more patience.  Still, I know I can do better.

Spiritually, I think the dilemma of looking at the world without our on self-interests front at heart is what we are to over come.  The natural man is self-centered and God knows this. 

 

The “I” is what might make us think we look fat in our jeans when somewhere else a woman watches as her children starve to death.

The “I” is what causes us to feel overwhelmed because we have so much to do before Christmas when somewhere else another is in a hospital bed dying of cancer.

How often we forget the world is not about us.

Maybe that’s why God calls us His children, because we behave in such childish ways.

I remember an experience I had on my mission.  I served in Salt Lake City, Utah on Temple Square; 10 acres of manicured ground with abundant history and spiritual conquest.  I was one of 160 sister-missionary tour guides to the roughly 6 million visitors who visited each year. 

For community service, I was assigned two-hours each week to teach English to immigrants on Welfare Square.  This was so much fun and rewarding to help in a way that change people’s lives.  One day after class, I walked into the women’s restroom.  In the back of the room in the last stall, a woman lay on the cold gray tile.  She looked dead.  I opened the bathroom door and yelled into the hallway for help.  I ran to the stall, but it was locked.  I dropped to the ground and crawled under the partition, sliding to where the woman lay.  She was unconscious and had blood coming from her ear.  Her dirty, tattered clothing and unpleasant body odor lead me to believe she was homeless.  She was a woman forgotten and I started to cry. 

Someone came in and I shouted to call 911. 

I knew not to move a person who is injured.  She was curled up and I lied on the floor with my arms carefully wrapped around her.  Her head was by the toilet.  I whispered into her ear everything would be alright.  For several moments, I was alone with the woman and in my entire mission experience; I’ve never felt closer to God.

I ran my fingers gently through her hair and offered words of comfort.  I prayed and literally felt the Savior join us on that dirty bathroom floor. At one point, I turned to my side, expecting to see Him there.  

The paramedics arrived and I sat up to unlock the stall door.  “We’ll take care of it from here,” one of them said.  “Can I go with her to the hospital,” I asked.  I never got an answer.  I never knew what happened to her, but for that short amount of time, the world was not about me.  It was about her and Him.  I cried when they wheeled her away.  

As a mother, I want to teach my children to see outside themselves.  

My New Year’s resolution is to try to step away a little bit each day from the “I” and focus more on others.  Example is a great teacher, but I realize I can’t do it alone.  I need God’s intervention.  

He allowed me to find that woman and to feel her pain.  He gave me the gift of those few tender moments to contemplate her suffering.  It was through his grace I was allowed into the intimate space of a total stranger and to feel the Savior's love for her.  

He is the great teacher and the great I AM.  How fitting to focus on His "I" instead of mine. 

Meeting one of my hero’s; song writer and musician Kenneth Cope

The pre-teen years weren’t easy for me (we’re they easy for anybody?).  My family moved from Utah to Virginia and Jr. High was a challenge.  I grew like a weed and was awkward in my new body.   I came from a large family of nine children and was teased at school for being Mormon.  Some days I just wanted to stay home with my little brothers and sisters and play dress-up. 

When I was 14, my family moved from Virginia to Mesa, Arizona.  I didn’t know anyone and sometimes felt alone.  I started playing tennis and ran around the track every day.  I met a few friends and started feeling like I could fit in. 

I meet a friend named Daryl Smith, read more about Daryl here (Daryl is the editor of Seeing the Everyday) who introduced me to the music of Kenneth Cope.  Kenneth is a member of the Mormon Church and writes songs about Jesus.  I played his tapes around the house and was amazed at the message of his songs.  Finding Christ, reaching out to others, being kind and seeing heaven all around us were so inspiring.  I felt my testimony for the Savior grow.

Kenneth’s music played a significant role in how I felt about myself and where I was going with my life.  It was easier to keep difficult days in perspective and I would sing along while cleaning my room or doing homework.  Soon, my brother’s and sister’s were requesting I play his music whenever I was home.

I also played the piano and spent hours each day learning Kenneth’s songs.  I saved up babysitting money and purchased the print music to His Hands and Never a Better Hero and others.  My mom would stand by my side, encouraging me and singing along.  This is how I spent a lot of my time in the evening.

I eventually started writing my own piano music.  A neighbor of mine named Crystal wrote poetry.  We started collaborating and wrote beautiful compositions together.  When I was 16, I auditioned to be the pianist for a musical group called Sound Celebration.  The group performed not just in Mesa, but around the country.  Kenneth Cope’s music was used in most of our performances, as our goal was to draw people closer to Jesus.

When I was 23, I turned in my mission papers and was called to serve in the Temple Square Mission.  I played a lot of Kenneth Cope’s music as I prepared to serve the Lord.  His music kept me focused and the spirit stayed close to my heart. 

So . . . you can imagine my joy and utter happiness when almost a year into my mission, Kenneth Cope came to speak to the over 200 sister missionaries on Temple Square.  

He spoke for about an hour on how he developed his testimony and what he has learned about Christ from reading the scriptures.  He than asked if we would like to hear him sing a few songs.  I was the mission pianist, so my mission president asked if I would accompany Kenneth while he sang.  Of course I had been playing Kenneth’s music for years, but never did I think I would be playing while he sang.  I was nervous, but more excited.  Kenneth was kind and humble and I learned so much about Christ because of his visit to my mission.

Several years after I married the counselor, we decided to go to Utah and visit Temple Square.  At the time we had three little boys and stayed in Park City.  The day we decided to visit Temple Square, we drove through the canyons down the mountain to Salt Lake City.  My heart was full of joy, ready to share my mission for the first time with my husband and small children.  We drove past This is the Place, a landmark honoring where the first pioneers arrived with Brigham Young.  The story is when they arrived in the Utah Valley, Brigham Young said “This is the place.”  I’d always wanted to see the monument, so we took a slight detour and toured the grounds.  While walking, I heard Kenneth Cope singing.  At first I thought I was dreaming, and then maybe it was his CD being played over the loud speaker, but after a few minutes I realized it was live.  He was really him singing.  I told the counselor I had to find him.  I was like a bloodhound, walking from one end of the grounds to the next and finally found Kenneth, along with his band, rehearsing in a large barn.  I stood in the doorway and listened as he finished a song.  My eyes were full of tears and I explained to my son Chandler why I was crying. 

“That man up there taught me about Jesus,” I said.  I cautionsly approached Kenneth (I didn’t want to interrupt, but I had to!) and a bit emotional, I re-introduced myself to him.  He was so gracious and after visiting a few minutes, he invited me to stay and listen while he and his band finished rehearsing.  It was the highlight of my trip back to my mission.

You can see how this man and his gift for writing music affected me.  I can’t think of any other musician who has ever meant more.  Kenneth Cope is one of my hero’s.

Fast forward to this summer, where I have spent over four months helping my mom, author Sarah Hinze write her biography in a book we’ve titled The Memory Catcher.  More on this to come!  Her publisher Spring Creek Book Company will be publishing The Memory Catcher in October 2012. 

Throughout her life, my mom desired to know God and what He wanted her to do with her life when after a miscarriage, she had a “pre-birth experience” (PBE). The child she lost came to her as an angel, reassuring everything would be alright.  After the encounter, my mom wondered if other mothers had seen their unborn children in dreams or visions before their children were born.  She distributed flyers throughout her town and within a few days, a woman who had seen her own unborn child shared her story with my mom. 

Since then my mom has interviewed individuals from around the world and chronicled many of these types of communication from children before they are born.

Years later, she had published several books.  Her work has provided significant evidence that unborn children can warn, protect and enlighten us from the spirit realm. Most often these children appear to announce it is their time to be born. This communication can occur between the child and a parent, sibling, aunt, uncle, or grandparent, etc., as they come to warn, protect and enlighten.

Her first book Coming from the Light was published nearly 20 years ago.  Later, she published Life before Life (Pocket Books) with Simon & Schuster. 

My mom's latest book, We lived in Heaven, was given to Kenneth Cope by a mutual friend.  Well, Kenneth read the book and contacted my mom, hoping some day they could meet.  Since my mom and I were already collaborating on her biography and had planned a trip up to Utah, we meet Kenneth Cope together.  Here we our with his sweet family.

It was a dream come true. I finally had time to tell Kenneth what his music meant to me.  Kenneth is one of my hero’s and I am now sharing his music with my children.  While we were together, he played a few songs on his guitar, one of them being Broken.  

I hope you will take the time to listen to a few of his songs I have linked up.

Thank you, Kenneth for sharing your talent with the world.  It has made all the difference in mine.