"Education is not the filling of a pail but the lighting of a fire." William Butler Yeats

I came home from town the other day to a house full of children and an unflushed toilet full of mess. Of course, no one would claim it. I wondered whether or not the q-tip that was also in the bowl would make it safely through the turns and bends, and what the chances were that it would get stuck and cause a greater problem than that of accepting what had to be done and sticking my hand in that bowl. I pondered my position. 

The glamour of motherhood, if there had ever been any to begin with was swallowed up in the plastic bag I wrapped tightly around my arm. 

You see,  I have this longing within to be great. I want to be super at something. I want to achieve and do and grow and be. 

As the day wore on and I went about my responsibilities God breathed wisdom into my mind: Maybe my greatness will be that of my children's. Greatness is in everyday ordinaries.

It is in the preparing of a grilled cheese lunch.

It is in the putting of a camera in little hands and seeing life through her eyes, her world.

It is in the making of lemon Jell-o.

It is in the strokes of a paint brush.

It is in the workbooks, the math, and even in the frustration.

(Tate is attempting to "disarm" me with his "wand" as I attempt to instruct him in math. Expelliarmus!)

It is in the cutting of oranges . . .

 and the folding of dishcloths.

My greatness may never be awarded or noticed. It will not be in fame or fortune. Instead, I have the opportunity to be the catalyst in the lives of these children who call me mom. I am the cheerleader, the catapult. I am the one on the sidelines who calls out their names, who jumps for joy at their victories, and praises their attempts. I am the one who wipes the tears and comforts the sadness. These children will grow in the knowledge that their mom is quite often a big ol' mess. They will see me at my worst, as well as my best. Through me they will come to understand that life is hard and hearts can hurt so bad. They will become acquainted with perseverance. They will learn to pick themselves up and to be of good cheer. They will hear, over and over, as long as I live that NOTHING is impossible, and to never say can't. And even though life does not always look like the vision we had planned it is beautiful beyond measure in its imperfection. Greatness is in never giving up, even when you feel a failure. My greatness will live in the hearts of my children. I cannot imagine a purpose more noble nor a greatness that is bigger than that.

weekending

Friday morning I took a ride in an ambulance, not for pleasure. 

But don't worry, really. I am just fine. 

But because of said ambulance ride, Darren stayed home from work. 

He and the boys spent a good part of the day working on a bike trail they are constructing out behind our house.  

Bergen is getting pretty confident on his bike, while Tate doesn't need a bike at all. 

He got some pretty good air!

Saturday evening minutes before Darren walked out the door for a Priesthood meeting, and already feeling worn out, I hit peak frustration. I wanted nothing more than to go to bed with a good book. That was not an option. So instead of losing my cool and tearing my hair out, I packed our bags with swimsuits and towels, piled the kids in the van and against every feeling in my bones I took them out. Our first stop, the grocery store to get popcorn kernels, so that after swimming we could pop some corn and watch a movie together. The craziness continued on just as it had at home. I was not feeling very successful at this thing called parenthood. By the time we finally got to the pool I was exhausted.

I stayed within my obligatory arms reach of Nya, playing with the girls, while trying to catch glimpses of the boys who had gone off together to swim. And what I saw melted my heart and filled a deflated soul right back up again. Two boys, thick as thieves, not fighting, as is the usual lately, but playing and laughing. Older brother piggy-backing younger. Then I looked down, and there at my side, the same thing was happening with sisters. Tension melted away, leaving behind tender new sprouts of hope and a renewed sense of determination.

Sunday afternoon between sessions, I was in great need of some fresh air and a view beyond these four walls. I announced that I was going on a walk and that anyone who wished to join me was more than welcome. Fifteen minutes later the seven of us were piled in the van and on our way to Eves Park. 

Counting rings. Darren's guess - 65. My guess - 45. The real answer - 43.

Bergen thinks I cheated. Not so, I'm just good!

Emma - she is my hippie at heart. 

Everyday she reminds me that if you like it, than forget the opinions of others. 

Be happy in the skin you're in, is her unspoken message.

Whenever we go on walks I am sure to hear, "MOM, come here!" more times than I can count. Whether it is to see a heart shaped leaf, fungus growing on a tree, new buds, tiny flowers, rocks or pine cones, these kids will always find plenty of natures treasures in the great outdoors. This is what they teach me - Don't overlook the every day wonders God has placed here for us. Be grateful, watchful, and observant. Nature heals the heart.

Emma, who is obsessed with anything lemony, was on "treats" for Family Night, so Monday afternoon we scoured pinterest for lemon recipes. 

We found these - Lemon Crinkles.

They looked good and sounded easy, so away we went. 

I have it on good authority that they are delicious!

( you can find the recipe through the link above)

They don't ask a lot, not really. They just want my time. And that is all I can offer anyhow.

Play a game, bake some cookies, listen to them talk, even if, and especially when, I don't feel like it.

Because they can tell. They can feel my disconnect. 

And I understand - If I am too busy to bake cookies or blow bubbles than I am too busy.

Later that night we went out back to roast marshmallows. 

(We have learned that when it comes to roasting marshmallows hair is better piled up on top and out of the way.) 

A little unexpected mixed with a whole lot of ordinary, that was my weekend.

And at the end of it all, these words were whispered in my ear as little four-year-old arms wrapped tight around my neck, "Momma, I was so worried about you." 

My heartstrings were tugged. 

I reflected back over the last few days and I knew - all is well.