Be Your ^Best Self

A prevelant theme in current popular thought is how important it is to just "be yourself." We're done with the overwhelming expectations of society, the unattainable ideals, and the narrow definition of both "acceptable" and "in." We are who we are, we're good enough, smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like us just the way we are. As I raise my children in this brave new world, I am grateful that they are reinforced with acceptance for their uniqueness, that they are taught to love themselves and not be ashamed of what makes them "different" from their peers. However, when I see the mantra "Be Yourself" engraved motto-like on posters and book covers, I always want to insert a little carat symbol and make one small change. I'd like it to read, "Be Your Best Self." We certainly should not overwhelm ourselves with expectations that are currently out of reach, but on the other hand, we can not fall into complacency in our quest to feel content with who we are at this moment. We have to find the balance between self satisfaction and self motivation, so that we are at peace with where we are, but are always reaching for something better. I could easily look at my shortcomings (housekeeping, lack of patience, or selfish use of my free time) and say, that's just who I am. I'm being myself. Don't knock me for having flaws. I could go on in my ways without the unnecessary stress of having to overcome something that is just part of my nature. Nobody's perfect, and that's okay. Well, it is, but not in the long term. I still have faith in people's power to change. I think we owe others that faith, and we certainly owe ourselves that faith. It may be a long and very gradual road, but I believe it is the only true path to lasting happiness and peace with ourselves.

Image courtesy of Matt Banks at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

The "Trust Fall" that is the Atonement

While praying recently, I thought over all the things I had done wrong that day and by extension all week--all the things I needed to repent of. I thought of all the times I had lost my patience with my children, the times I had sighed in exasperation when they asked me for something while in the middle of "my" projects, the minutes I had wasted in idleness. I felt the surge of desire to be better, that elusive ideal, the proverbial carrot dangling constantly in the distance that should be driving me along, but doesn't seem to do any more than aggravate me. Why do I fail so much? Why do I want so badly to be good and yet fail so consistently? Why can't I overcome my fatal flaws? Why is it such a struggle?

My mother let me read her journal once when I was struggling through a difficult time. I was pregnant with my fifth child, my husband was burdened with a challenging work situation, and we were both feeling overwhelmed by life. Mom brought me her journal that spanned her years from having 2 children to having her 5th. She thought it would be helpful for me to see that I was not the only one to have walked that difficult road. It did help, and it also gave me a special window into her soul that longed for the very same thing: perfection. She yearned just as much if not more for the same seemingly unattainable goal and felt just as much remorse over her lack of its achievement. But from the outside, to me she was amazing. She was as good as they can possibly get. She was close to the spirit, trying her hardest and doing her best. She lived what she believed. And yet she was still plagued by feelings of inadequacy and unworthiness. She struggled her whole life to be good, right up to the end.

And then she died.

As this thought washed over me, I wept. Mom struggled her whole life to be good, and probably never felt good enough, and then it was over. That seemed so bleak, so horridly hopeless. And she was ten times better than me. If someone like her could feel so inadequate, where does that leave ME?

But then a thought came to me: we can not make ourselves perfect. It is, just as we thought, absolutely impossible. And it is meant to be. We can't do this alone, so why do we constantly try to? Why do I constantly try to do this alone? I need the Savior. It is only through him, with him, and by him that I can become perfect. But in my mortal rebellion, I prefer trying to be perfect the way I envision. So I construct my plan for reaching perfection and I decide what I work on and work towards. But it always falls apart. Why? Because my vision of the perfect me is actually flawed and imperfect because I don't have a perfect persepctive. I cannot see the big picture, so how can I even think to make the blueprint to build the perfect me? Why would I even attempt it? Is it a power thing? Do I want to prove something? Or do I want to take all the credit for myself? No, I have to go to the master builder and ask him for the Plans. And then keep him by my side as he tells me what to build and which parts to work on first. I have to give commmand to him.


This wasn't really a new thought. I have realized many times in my life that I needed to rely more on Christ to help me overcome my weaknesses. I knew I needed him. But time after time, it seems I start forward with that in mind, then eventually slip back into trying to do it all on my own. I call it the "my do it!!" syndrome, because that's what my son says when he wants to do something all by himself, like brushing his teeth, or getting dressed. I let him try, and when he struggles the most and I try to intervene, he screams at me again and I have to back off. I try to wait patiently for him to wear himself out doing the thing that is almost impossible until he is the one that says, "help me."

I guess there are times when God does the same with us. There are times when he wants us to learn independence. He doesn't want us to come to him for every little detail of our lives. He wants us to be self-reliant and proactive. He said, "men should be anxiously engaged in a good cause and do many things of their own free will and bring to pass much righteousness." But there are things that we can't fix on our own, and the more we try, refusing the divine assistance we need, the worse things can get.

Handing it all over takes an incedible amount of trust. It makes me think of those "trust fall" activites meant to build team work. On the few occasions I have done this exercise, I barely knew my "team," but already felt a bond of friendship and even love. With my back turned to them, unable to see but hearing their chants of encouragement, I would fall five feet down into their supporting arms. There is always that moment of terror, that you've made a horrid mistake, or that someone you are depending on might fail you, and your stomach lurches. And then you feel the cradle of all those arms, braced to catch and protect you, and it's hard not to laugh in delight. In a similar fashion, I can't see my Savior, but I feel him, I hear him, and he has known me longer than I currently know myself. He calls out to me, "I'm right here. I promise I will catch you." I have to throw my life into his arms, and trust that he will break my fall and bear me up. I have to work hand in hand with him as we create the me he needs me to be. Only then can I be made perfect, because his atonement fills the infinite gap between what I am and what I need to be. As soon as I place myself in his command and stop fighting against myself, I am perfect and whole, and it feels even more exhilarating than landing in the outstretched arms of my friends.

Food is Love: I like to say it with cookies.

I had a friend who entertained me with stories about the Italian Mamma that would feed her while she nannied in New York City. "Food is Love," she would quote in her best Brooklyn accent, "I cook for you because I love you." For some reason it made me laugh, but as I have learned more about cooking, I often find myself returning to that mantra. Sharing good food with my friends and family is definitely a method of mine in expressing how much I love them. Food brings people together. It gives us a reason to gather, and something to share that we all enjoy. Over the years, one of the food traditions that we have enjoyed most is inviting friends over to have chocolate chip cookies hot out of the oven with ice cream.

I have a distinct memory from my younger years of a woman who came to visit my mom and brought the most perfect batch of cookies to share with us. I don't even know who she was, but I remember asking her very sincerely how she made such amazing cookies. I think she said she just followed the recipe on the bag of chips, but try as I might, mine never turned out like hers. As a young married, I was determined to find the big secret. Thanks to a jump start from scientific cooking guru Alton Brown, and through extensive trial and error of my own, I feel like I can confidently say, I did it! It's so good, in fact, that my husband never asks for anything else for dessert. If I want to bake something else, I do it at the risk that he will be disappointed, no matter how delicious or fancy it is. That's why these cookies have been dubbed "Dallyn's Favorite Cookies" or "DFC's" by some of our friends. 

There are actually about a dozen secrets to baking the perfect chocolate chip cookie. All points are calculated to increase the moistness, chewiness and flavor. As I've shared this recipe, a frequent response I've gotten is, "Wow, that sounds like a lot of work. I don't know if I can do all that." Personally, I don't feel like it takes any more effort than the recipe you find on the back of the Nestle chips bag. Most of the secrets are just better ingredients, but there are some method secrets. Anyway, my point is, if you want the perfect cookie, you have to be willing to put in the effort. Every pointer is for a reason. So here's the recipe, along with footnotes that explain some of the why's behind it:

Chewy Chocolate Chip Cookies (DFC's)

Ingredients:

1/2 cup (1 stick) good quality margarine (Land O'Lakes is my favorite)¹

1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter

1 cup brown sugar²

1/2 cup granulated sugar

2 1/2 cup bread flour³

1 teaspoon kosher salt⁴

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 egg

1 egg yolk⁵

2 tablespoons milk⁶

1/2 tablespoon Mexican vanilla (my favorite is Blue Cattle Truck Mexican Vanilla)⁷

1 bag (about 2 cups) Ghirardelli milk chocolate chips⁸

Picky about ingredients: I never compromise on the vanilla or the chocolate. These are my 2 faves.

Melt the margarine and butter in a small pot.⁹ Meanwhile, add both sugars to your mixing bowl, sift dry ingredients into a medium bowl, and measure milk, vanilla, egg and egg yolk into a small bowl. Pour melted butter into your mixing bowl with the sugars and beat until smooth. Add milk mixture and beat well. With beater running, slowly spoon in sifted dry ingredients and mix well. Add chocolate chips and beat or stir until evenly distributed. Put all the cookie dough into plastic containers (I like to use two flat 3 1/8 cup Gladware containers) and put in the freezer. Chill at least 1 hour.¹⁰ Preheat the oven to 350° and move the rack fairly close to the upper element (not the closest, but probably the next down from that).¹¹ Shape dough into balls a little larger than a ping pong ball, smaller than a golf ball and place a couple inches apart on a parchment lined cookie sheet. Bake for 6 minutes and rotate the pan, then bake for 6 minutes more. Cookies should be just golden on the outside. Remove the pan, set it down and carefully move the whole sheet of parchment with the cookies onto a counter top or cooling rack.¹² Allow to cool a few minutes then serve in a bowl with vanilla ice cream, Hershey's syrup, butterscotch, or whatever you like best. Makes about 4 batches of 9-12 cookies.

I usually only bake one batch at a time, which ends up being about 1/2 a container. I just keep the rest in the freezer and we always have cookie dough on hand for those nights we want a special treat. Any leftover cookies (which are highly rare) can be cooled and put in an airtight container to be fought over for snack the next day. They will stay tremendously moist and chewy for a few days if they last that long.

Again, it sounds complicated, but believe me, every detail is so worth it and makes for one awesome cookie! Bon appetite!

Footnotes:

1. Butter is always better in my book, but there are times margarine is called for. This is one of them. Butter melts more quickly, and crisps up instead of staying soft, so all-butter cookies will flatten and be crispy rather than chewy. Using a stick of each is a happy compromise. Just opt for a good quality margarine which will have creamier flavor and less water content.↩

2. Brown sugar is more moist than white. Most cookie recipes call for an even amount of each. Increasing the brown sugar results in a moister cookie.↩

3. Bread flour is higher in gluten, which is what makes bread chewy. This was one of Alton Brown's recommendations.↩

4. Why Kosher? Not sure. I do know it is recommended for bread making because of the extra texture that helps in kneading the ingredients.↩

5. The yolk is the moist part of the egg. The whites tend to be drier when cooked. So again, adding a yolk increases moisture.↩

6. Adding milk, once again, adds moisture.↩

7. This is perhaps my biggest ingredient secret. Do not skimp of the quality of your vanilla! It makes all the difference. This brand is available in select stores in Utah, online, and if you live near me, I buy it wholesale, so I can set you up.↩

8. Good chocolate is just about as important as the vanilla. This is my favorite brand, and the chips are bigger, which we also like. You can of course substitute semi-sweet, or try other brands, but this is the one we love the most. Cheaper chocolates are higher in wax and other nasty fillers, so not nearly as tasty.↩

9. You don't need to soften the butter! Hooray! Melting the butter & margarine will make your freshly made dough runnier, which is why you will need to chill it before baking, but it helps the sugars to dissolve and incorporate better.↩

10. I guarantee it will be better if you wait several hours or prepare the dough a day ahead. If the dough is thoroughly frozen, you will need to thaw it on the counter about 15-30 minutes before you can cut into it, but you still want it to be colder than fridge temperature.↩

11. This was actually the crowning discovery in my quest for cookie perfection. It happened by chance on a night I had broiled something for dinner, and when I went to bake the cookies I didn't bother moving the rack down. The result was that the cookies browned more beautifully without overcooking the dough, which meant they kept their domed shape better when removed from the oven.↩

12. Moving the cookies to the counter top prevents the bottoms from continuing to bake from the heat of the cookie sheet. This is why parchment is essential. My cookie sheets have a 1 inch lip, so sliding them over the lip rattled the soft-set cookies too much and caused them to deflate. I found that carefully using my fingernails to grab the corners (which tend to curl up from the pan anyway) and gently lifting the whole thing up and over had much better results. Of course, if your cookie sheets are flat with no lip, you can slide them off. Just do so gently.↩

Getting Back Up

In April 2012, my daughter and I took a special Spring Break trip to visit some friends in Texas who own a large horse ranch.  They very graciously welcomed my daughter and I for a week of riding lessons.  Like most 10-year-olds, my daughter was a little obsessed with horses.  I remember well being the same way, and how my mother wisely arranged for me to get some first-hand experience working at a ranch. I thought I would be bobbing happily in the saddle on a daily basis, wind blowing in my hair, working on my sun tan. I imagined I would end each day with a little bushing of the horse's withers as she playfully tickled my cheek with her whiskerey muzzle before I latched her safely back in her stall. I never did get to ride, but I certainly learned just how much work horses are to take care of, and how feisty and uncooperative their personalities could be. It effectively quelled my longing to own a horse without crushing my love of them.  That was hardly my intention that week 2 years ago, as I have to admit, I was excited to get up in the saddle a little bit myself.

My daughter started off with a basic tutorial.  Our friend, the owner of the ranch, very patiently walked her through leading the horse, mounting, walking, steering and stopping.  The next day she tried trotting, and continued to learn how to communicate not only with her mouth, but also her legs and hands.  My daughter rode on three different horses during our stay, the last being a beautiful bay mare whom our friend's daughter had ridden when she claimed the Reining World Championship.  She was a very good, obedient mount, but still very spirited, and not always certain how to take instruction from the light-weight amateur on her back.  I knew it was possible that my daughter might experience a fall.  That just happens when you ride, and I prayed earnestly that if it happened, the incident would come without injury. It had been a little disconcerting to learn on our arrival that our champion friend had been thrown just hours before, leaving her miraculously alive, but with a hideous bruise that spread from her forehead to her eyes, darkening as the week progressed until she looked literally like she was wearing Batman's black mask. But my brave girl wasn't deterred. I watched with pride and a tiny helping of nerves as she went through her lessons, and was just starting to feel at ease when it happened. They were in the round pen, walking in circles as our friend stood in the middle with the long whip, guiding the horse with his gentle clucks and taps. Then something spooked the horse, or irritated her, and suddenly she took off at a run. My daughter held on the best she could, but the pace and the bouncing was too much for her, and she fell off into the soft bank of fine red dirt that had built up against the pen wall. To my huge relief, she was uninjured, just a little shaken. She dusted herself off, let us all check her over, but didn't even want for a moment to sit down for a while. She wanted right back up.

I was so proud of my girl. I was so grateful that she didn't walk or limp away from something scary, but that she was determined to try again. That spirit of bravery inspires me, and gives me the courage to get back up when I am down. Some falls are not without injury. Some carry with them permanent scars that don't go away over time, and finding the courage to get back in the saddle is a steeper hill to climb. But people do it every day, against incredible odds.

My daughter hasn't ridden since that trip to Texas, and she has definitely outgrown the darling boots and spurs our generous friends got her so she could ride in style. But I hope she will never forget the experience. And when life knocks her down now and then, I hope she will always get back up, dust herself off, laugh a little with those who love her and were there to make sure she is okay, then get right back in the saddle like the brave young lady she is. And I'm going to try to do the same.

In the round pen

After her fall, my daughter learned how to turn her mount,
which this particular horse was a champion at.

Food Review: Cheesecake!

The "Original"

This post first appeared on March 11, 2014. I continue to update with new reviews from time to time. The italicized part of this introduction is the same, so you can skip ahead if you've read before. New reviews are marked as such, and I've added a star rating and "richness meter" to help you out (see below). Enjoy!

In 2002, when Dallyn was new to the touring cast of Les Miserablés, we had a 4 week stop in San Francisco while they prepared to take the show across the Pacific Ocean for their big Chinese debut. This was my first exposure to the phenomenon that is The Cheesecake Factory, the distinctively decorated, almost always overcrowded restaurant and bakery with a menu so extensive they ought to bring it to your table using a forklift (it's spiral bound and has page numbers. Need I say more?). We spent the month in a little studio apartment just up the street from a CF, and I must admit, we ate there far too often. Dallyn was making bank. Every visiting family member or friend was another excuse to go, and even when it was just us, sometimes I didn't feel like cooking in my tiny, under-equipped kitchen and we would make an escape to the cheesecake haven in the sky (literally; it was on the top floor of the downtown Macy's). It certainly wasn't the extensive, convoluted menu that was the attraction. It was, of course, the cheesecake, dozens of them, more than we could sample. Well, more than we could sample in a month. Dallyn, bless his heart, humored me, since cheesecake is really not his thing, but he was still my perfect sounding board as we discussed the intricacies of flavor, texture, and presentation of each delectable slice. Our obsession followed us as we toured the country, and even in the subsequent years. We were thrilled when they brought the chain to Utah, even though we never lived closer than 40 minutes away from the nearest one.

Now that we live only 5 minutes from a Cheesecake Factory, and I've been needing lots of cheesecake (yes, there are times in life when it qualifies as a need) I thought I might as well put all that sampling to some use and provide reviews of all the varieties we've tried. When it comes to picking cheesecake, we often spend lots of time standing in front of the display case deliberating over just what we're in the mood for, so maybe we can spare you the trouble.  I'll start with my top 3 picks today and continue to add more as time allows. So if you want to have this list handy, bookmark it and check it out the next time you find yourself in the happy predicament of having so many cheesecakes to choose from and so little time.

Ratings: Out of 4 stars (*)
Richness Meter: 1-light & mousse like (there's always room for it);  2-about as rich as your average cheesecake; or 3-richer than a regular cheesecake (you'll want a glass of milk to wash it down. Do not attempt to finish by yourself after a full meal!)

Top 3 Picks:

These are our "go-to" flavors that we get when we just want an old favorite that we know we're going to love.

Chocolate Tuxedo Cream **** 1

This is a lighter more mousse-like cheesecake, perfect for when you don't have room for one of the knock-you-out rich plates, but hey, you're at the Cheesecake Factory, and how can you leave without dessert? Layers of cream and chocolate mousse topped with a super thin ganache.

Chocolate Raspberry Truffle **** 3

Ready for some rich chocolate paired with the perfect complement of tart raspberry? In my opinion, chocolate and raspberries were meant to go together, and this dessert is the perfect marriage. On the richer side, with just the right amount of fruity tartness. Make sure you scoop some of the whip cream to lighten it up.

Godiva Chocolate **** 3

Yes, you can get them mail order,
complete with fun dry ice to play with.
This was my birthday cake in 2008.

Dallyn and I are huge fans of Godiva chocolate. In our less lean years (I mean financially, but I guess I could mean the other thing...), no special occasion was complete without a small box of Godiva, and we would stretch the joy out as long as possible by sharing one piece only per day.  We would tease our children that Hersheys is for kids, Godiva is for grownups and is wasted on the young, and would point them to the stash of kisses in the pantry. (They did challenge us once to a taste test to prove their palates were sophisticated enough to tell the difference, and they sort of passed, so sometimes we are gracious and will share, but mostly we hide it.) Yes, we're obsessed. So it is no surprise that this cheesecake makes our top 3 list. It is rich. It is basic, but basically beautiful in its chocolate perfection. No fancy layers or trappings, it's just the most exquisite pure silky chocolate experience available. Definitely utilize the whip cream.

Everything Else:

(New Review!) Toasted Marshmallow S'mores Galore **** 3

Oh, wow. This was a surprise. We tried this one on a recommendation from a friend. Having seen it in the case, it looked like just another chocolatey one, and I wasn't really in the mood for that, but when I saw a picture the way it would be served with a perfectly toasted marshmallow melting all over the top, I knew I had to partake. Toasted marshmallows are my very favorite treat. Ever. We knew we had to have it on a plate at a table rather than the to-go boxes we typically grab (since presentation seemed pretty important), so it was a little while before we actually got to try it, but it was well worth the wait! The marshmallow turned out to be marshmallow creme rather than an actual marshmallow (the photo was a little deceptive), but it was still nicely toasted and tasty. The chocolate cheesecake was delicious and creamy, with little chunks of harder chocolate hidden near the base that added a scrumptious texture. Crunchy bits of graham were scattered over the lot, with a full square of graham cracker balanced attractively on top. The traditional graham crust was a perfect fit. This one is rather rich, so definitely grab a cheesecake buddy to share. I can't recommend saving the leftovers unless you first eat all the graham cracker parts, as those will get soggy in the fridge (as we sadly discovered).

(New Review!) Original ** 2

Several people said I had to try this one. I was skeptical. I'm picky about the consistency of my "plain" cheesecake. It has to be perfectly creamy and moist throughout, no dry cakeyness, and I especially love a sour cream topping. I usually like cherry pie filling on top, but in order to get the pure experience, I had it plain. It was good. Pretty basic. It was creamy enough, but not the to-die-for creamiest I've ever had. The best plain cheesecake I've had was at Junior's in NYC. There are so many other awesome options for cheesecake at The Factory that I'm not likely to have this one again, but if you really want one, go for it.

(New Review!) 30th Anniversary Chocolate Cake Cheesecake *** 2

This was my desert of choice for my recent birthday. It seemed a nice compromise between cake (for my husband) and cheesecake (for me), and truly it was delightful! The cake was moist and flavorful, the cheesecake creamy, and the moussey layers in between were luscious. The big ganache swirl on top was a bit much to get through, but a little bit with each bite was a nice addition.

Reviews to come:

Dulce de Leche

Key Lime

Wild Blueberry White Chocolate

White Chocolate Caramel Macadamia Nut

Mango Key Lime

Pumpkin Pecan (seasonal)

Reese's Peanut Butter Chocolate Cake

Oreo Dream Extreme

No Priesthood for me, thanks!

I have read a little about the Ordain Women movement going on in the LDS Church. I confess up front that I am not extensively informed on all the reasons behind the desire some women have to stand on equal ground with our brothers in the church and have the privilege of being ordained to the same offices of priesthood authority. I am not trying to downplay their very strong feelings or discredit any of their arguments. I just want to say for myself, no thank you. I do not want the priesthood.

If the Lord really opened it up and allowed that women be ordained to the priesthood, would it be optional? The brethren are expected to receive the priesthood at a certain age, and if they have not, they are not considered to be spiritually "on track" until they have. Their leaders work with them patiently and persistently until they are worthy of ordination. If I said I didn't want to opt in, would I be frowned upon as a less faithful member of the church? Would I be shirking my responsibilities to excecise all the blessings afforded me by the gospel? I hope not, because I would not want that responsibility. I would NOT want the possibility looming over me that I might be called to be a bishop, a stake president, an area authority. My hands are full enough already. I believe in obediently accepting every call to serve that comes through my leaders. If I had the priesthood I would have to be ready and willing at any moment to accept calls like that, even if it meant doing it while my children were still young. Of him unto whom much is given, much is required. I don't think having young children would be any excuse to not be given such duties. If God were to say, okay it's time, we would have to shoulder every call without complaint. I would do it, but please, I'm not ready!

And I don't think I will be in this lifetime. My motherhood responsibilities will not end when my children leave home. I expect I will be a grandma, and my kids will still need my advice, and my babysitting help, and want to have visits from grandma. I know my mom took no greater delight in anything than from doing all those things for us. If I had heavy priesthood duties, I would not be as free to do all those things. I know our families often have to make sacrifices when mom or dad have demanding callings, but really, can't we at least be guaranteed some kind of relief from how demanding it can get?

Giving Purpose to Pain

When I was in my early 20's I exercised my grown-up rights and adopted a kitten. She was an absolute doll. I picked her out of the litter because while all the others were frolicking on the floor, she lay in my lap and just started at me with her electric blue eyes, her wise little soul gazing deep into mine. It kind of took my breath away, and for the next 6 months, she was my best friend. I thanked God every night for her, giggling my way through my bedside prayers because she was nuzzling my face and begging for my attention.

That chapter of my life ended with my kitten contracting a pair of fatal diseases and having to be put to sleep. I couldn't believe the pain I felt, the questions why, the emptiness of abandonment. Why, I asked, would God take the one thing away from me that I had asked him never to take? What would it have hurt if he had let me keep my kitten? For years, I had a small pessimistic feeling that good things were not meant to be mine, that anything I truly loved could easily be taken from me. It frightened me how painful it was, and I worried, if it was that hard to take my cat dying, how on earth will I handle it if I lose a child? I understood that experiencing loss is part of life, something we have to learn in order to truly appreciate the day when we will no longer be separated from those we love. It also helps us to better console each other by making us more sympathetic. I hoped these were the only reasons I was passing through that trial, but I think a part of me remained fearful that it was just a primer, a trial run of something far more heart wrenching, and something inside me has been bracing itself all these years.

So here I am, facing the first real tragic loss of my life. My mother is only turning 62 in 4 weeks. Until this disease seized her brain, she was active and healthy and in complete command of her mental faculties. I had normal conversations with her just 2 months ago, even though they were fraught with worry over the mysterious symptoms she was beginning to have. At least there's one advantage to being on this side of knowing the prognosis: I'm not worried about what might happen. I'm here, living in a kind of bad dream, and all I can do now is decide, like Gandalf said so wisely, what to do with the time that has been given me.

My feelings change frequently. Some days I think I'm okay. After we found out mom was going to die, I got to spend the week with her. There was a special spirit in her home, I presume because all the focus of everyone there was just making mom feel safe, loved, comfortable and happy. I felt like I was in a cloud of peace and comfort, and blessed with an amazing strength to handle this with grace and dignity.  I trusted I would be a far better person for passing through this fire.

Then I had to go home, drive kids and husbands to school, shop for groceries, do the daily load of laundry and try to fold and put it away before losing steam, cook meals, clean house, break up fights, do taxes, and always keep my cool. I think my peace cloud lasted less than 24 hours.

Thankfully I wrote down some of the things I felt would help me through, and even though sometimes it's hard to still feel strongly about all these things, I know they are still good advice. My mom gave her whole life to raise us and instill in us every bit of wisdom and truth we would need to live successful lives. I feel the greatest honor I can do her now is to carry on and make her proud. It hurts like heck going through this. My life is a minefield of cry-fest inducing memories. I can't walk through this house without seeing something mom bought me or made for my kids. Even my fridge isn't safe to dig through because it has things like the chocolate soy milk she got me hooked on, or the Jarlsberg cheese I got her hooked on. I could totally let myself drown in all the misery of missing her, or, I have counseled myself, I can give purpose to the pain, and let those reminders keep me on track to being a better person. Here are some of the things I'm trying to remember:

1. This experience gives me clearer perspective. Relationships matter. Families matter. The condition of my heart matters. Owning that cute necklace I saw at the mall does not matter. Being up to date on the most popular TV shows does not matter. Having a perfectly decorated Pinterest worthy home does not matter.

2. This experience reminds me that I don't have time to be idle. Life is short. Recreation is good, but idleness squanders one of God's most precious gifts to us. For years I have struggled off and on with a small video game addiction. I kept it like a naughty little pet, assuring myself that I had it under control, that I was still getting the important things done, and I just needed some time to unwind. One hour of gaming was a harmless way to do that. But one hour turned into 3 hours past my bedtime, and the resulting cold-cereal-for-breakfast, grumpy-tired-mom sort of day that happened far too often. I also started kicking myself thinking of the creative energy I could have been spending on art projects or home projects, with something to show for it in the real world when I was done, but all I ever seemed to crave was another jaunt in that artificial cyber-world. I knew something was wrong with this picture, but it took my mom dying to give me the wakeup call. I don't have a problem with video games in general, but I can see I did not have control of my habit, it was controlling me, and I am happy to take an extended break from it. Maybe I will never go back at all.

3. This experience will make me more compassionate. One of my favorite quotes from the writings of Joseph Smith Jr. came from a letter penned just after he was released from a miserable winter spent in Liberty Jail. He had been unjustly incarcerated and rendered helpless to assist his friends and family who were being persecuted and murdered and forcibly driven from their homes. After all this, Joseph wrote to a friend, "It seems to me that my heart will always be more tender after this than ever it was before...For my part I think I never could have felt as I now do if I had not suffered the wrongs that I have suffered. All things shall work together for good to them that love God." I want to come out of this with that kind of faith and sensitivity.

4. This experience is teaching me how to keep it real. I am an emotional creature. I wear my feelings on my sleeve, and although I have matured a lot over the past years, there is still a lot of the melodramatic in my nature. I had a tendency to "put on the emotion" just a little bit, perhaps in a slightly manipulative way at times. It was usually subconscious, but on the very rare occasion it snuck its way into my conscious and intentional actions. (Do you hear how desperately I am trying to downplay this flaw?) Now that I have something in my life that seems genuinely tragic, I feel really stupid about everything I acted so upset about before, and I'm kind of tired of it. Grief can be exhausting. I don't know how Archie Craven or Mary Crowley could keep it up for months or years. I'm just tired of being sad. I mean, when you gotta cry, fine, have your cry, but there comes a point when you've got to go have a laugh at something or change the subject or you might just collapse. I think I have a better idea now of how much emotion is truly appropriate, and I don't ever want to go beyond that, especially intentionally. I feel much better equipped to handle hard things, simply because I no longer feel like I will be overwhelmed by the pure emotional burden of it. You can't carry those kind of burdens around. You have to put them down.

Which leads to #5. This experience is teaching me not to worry so much! I am a worry wort. So was my mom. She worried about planning and arranging big events. She worried about aluminum in anti-perspirants being a possible cause of Alzheimer's. She worried about offending people. I worry about raising my kids. I worry about getting things done. I worried about tragedy striking and how I would handle it. Now here I am, and I am finding it is a lot easier to handle tragedy when it actually happens than when you are waiting around for it to happen. Because honestly, there's very little you can do beforehand. We prepare for what we can, but then we leave it in God's hands. And if something happens that we weren't prepared for, we deal with it. Why waste time wondering what we would do, if we don't even have all the details? You can't solve a problem if you don't even know what the problem is, so why waste time trying to?

6. This experience proves that laughter is medicine. While mom doesn't say much, I think we all take great delight in still being able to make her laugh. Before I arrived when the family gathered 2 weeks ago, those that were with mom entertained her with a rollicking round of an improv game called "What are you doing?" One of our favorite teachers had taught it to us in elementary school. Word is, they had mom in stitches. While I was there, we also enjoyed watching some funny movies and shows, and some upbeat music videos with her. It tickled us all to see our mostly immobile mom tapping her feet, almost involuntarily, to the infectious "Smiles For Life." Despite his somber reputation, all us kids know better about our dad, that he is a big tease, and he still takes pride in being able to make mom smile at his jokes. Laughter and cheerfulness has made this whole process so much more bearable.

7. Because of this experience, I no longer want to waste any time being angry. This is perhaps the hardest lesson for me. Being a mom is incredibly challenging. Sometimes I feel like my kids are 10 times harder than me and my siblings must have been. I certainly don't remember quite so much yelling going on, and I could be certain we did our homework independently most of the time and never talked back disrespectfully to our parents. My room wasn't perfect, but I remember cleaning it of my own volition now and again, and chores were something we knew was just expected of us. We played on the computer, but that was only a small fraction of the creative things we did for fun. We were always coming up with new adventures in creativity. So where did these kids come from? Why do they challenge every thing I say? Where are all these messes coming from? Where is the fighting coming from? Why do they get bored with anything not shining out from a screen? Anyway, I'm drifting. My point is about anger. I don't want to go there. Sure this is hard, and lots of things frustrate me. But I can't spend my energy that way. It's counterproductive. People aren't perfect. I'm not perfect. We are all working on it, and we all deserve and owe all the patience that can be afforded. We all need to breathe more deeply and let things go a lot more, and lighten up.

If I can internalize all this, then my mom will not die in vain. She will have in fact given her life for my sake, sacrificing those 2 or more additional decades we could have had with her in order for us all to become more mature, more compassionate, more grateful, more productive. And the pain will all have a purpose.