Tree (five minute post)

Tree (five minute friday from lisa jo baker)

As I child, my mom would read us The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein. I have loved that book since the first time I heard it.  Not only for the simple words and simple pictures, but for the simple and amazing message it teaches.  One of sacrifice, love and contentment with the gifts in life.  I am grateful to my mom for introducing it to me.  I have a copy of my own that the kids and I often read.

I thought it would be appropriate to share my favorite children’s book The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore with my mom for her birthday as a thank you.  A thank you for teaching me to love reading.  My reading has brought me to love writing as well.  In turn, my oldest daughter has gotten the reading and writing bug.  And my other kids love it as well.  My mom gave me the gift of stories.  The gift of finding an escape in a good book.  The gift of “You can never have too many books.”  

I was eagerly waiting for my mom to receive my favorite book.  When she read it, she said she loved it and it made her cry.  I originally thought it might be silly to send MY favorite book to her. Why not send her one of her favorite books?  But when you come across such a treasure, it must be shared.  I am happy that she loved it. And I hope that she can see why I love her.

Truth (5 minute post)

Truth

the Truth is that I am tired, but not too tried to drink a dr. pepper after not having soda for  months.

The Truth is that I would love to have our student loans paid off NOW, but paying them reminds me of our hard work and that an education is a great investment.

The Truth is that I would love to have a perfectly clean and organized house, but I don’t want to miss the time I have with my little ones in an effort of perfection.

The Truth is that I am  10 pounds from where I would like to be, but those ten pounds were hard won by 5 pregnancies.

The Truth is that I had a miscarriage in between Hailey and Spencer (hence the five pregnancies) but I can see why it happened now.

The Truth is that we want one more baby, but I am a little terrified of the pregnancy with four other kids.

The Truth is that Blake wants to get his master’s, but I am also terrified of non stop mom stuff.

The Truth is that I am proud of most of my mothering, but I wish I would laugh more.

The Truth is that I love hot chocolate, the gas station kind is the best.

The Truth is that I have a book my mom gave me called “Books I want t o read” and have filled it with hundreds of books, but have only read 3.

The Truth is that I fill out the “books to be read book” at Target while I am alone and can browse through their books.

The Truth is that I really enjoy exercising and I love the strength it gives me.

The Truth is I don’t think I am that great of a wife, but Blake does and loves me for it.

The Truth is that I have a big responsibility as a mother to teach my kids right and wrong, that they have a great worth and that they are special….and I am up for the challenge.

View (5 minute post)

View

Do you ever just look in the mirror and get a view of yourself?  One that is so different from the “you” you used to be?  I did.  I saw my wrinkles by my eyes, crows feet, as they are fondly referred to.  A patch of gray hairs on the right of my part, hidden by the way I style my hair.  Smile lines by my mouth, and thinking lines on my brow.  Those didn’t get me though.  What did get to me was my hands. they are looking softer and more krinkled.  More like a woman and less like a 20 year old.  They remind me of my mom’s hands.  The view I have of myself now is that I am no longer a college student or young mother, though in my heart, I feel like a 20 year old.  When I run into my son’s 27 year old teacher and I think I am in the same stage of life as her and I realize that I am not!  That I haven’t been for years and something inside of me hurts a little.  Hurts for that person that I was.  But also finds joy in the person I have become.  I have aged some, I am not considering myself “old” by any means, but it is amazing how time sneaks up on you.  And you wake up and have two kids in school and two at home and are thinking, “Wow, my last baby will be my last baby.”  And that stage will end.  And I view things in a completely different way.

Imagine five minute post

Imagine

I remember having an endless and unburdened imagination.  We created something out of nothing.  We spent hours playing in the desert.  We turned the back of my dad’s old truck into a “bakery”, using the machine in the back.  This was my life.  

Now, I get to see my kids have the imagination of champions.  There is no limit or end to their boundless imaginations.  It is a beautiful thing.  They created the “puppy goes to jail” game, where I am the bad guy and the mama dog, of course.  They created play do masterpieces.  They have drawn the most amazing pictures where imaginary animals are alive and can do things that they are not supposed to do.  

I still have an imagination, but it has been bridled by life.  I have had four kids in seven years. I have been busy. I have been exhausted. I have had stress and sadness and frustration.  I have also seen goodness, kindness, and love beyond measure.  Somehow these things have changed my imagination into something different.  From time to time, I will get a glimpse of my former imagination, when the kids want me to play their make believe games and i let loose.  And I realize that I still have that imagination. It is buried beneath laundry, dishes and work, but my imagination is so much more fun than those jobs.  And I try to remember that imaginative games are much more important, as well.

Grace

Five minute prompt from Lisa Jo Baker

Grace

Well, I wrote about mercy here and I didn’t admit to understanding mercy.  Now, on to grace.  Which goes hand in hand with mercy.  Grace, in a few words to me, is….

Poise.  Walking with grace and being very agile and demure and lovely.  I am a little more clumsy than I would like to admit, so this is a great vision.

Someone who doesn’t hate on someone for being mean to them.  They let that person slide by and because of grace and good behavior, they look over the cruelties done by another.

My Savior, Jesus Christ, who gives me grace because He loves me and knows me better than anyone else.  He offers me grace as a pass.  I do my best and I repent and try my hardest to change and Jesus makes up for the rest with grace.  And I try to emulate that in my own life.  With my own kids. I try to let them have a pass on the hard days.  I try to not be so hard on them that they are resentful and angry at me.  I try to give them grace and help them to see that being mean and hard isn’t the right way.  That there is a time for kindness and there is a time for insistence. I hope that I can figure out grace and share it with those around me.

33 years

Birthday

Another birthday has come and (almost) gone.  I usually don’t love my birthday.  Who needs a reminder that they are getting older?  Who wants to have a vision of a birthday and have it ruined by unhappy kids?  Well, last year, I wrote my views on my birthday here and I reread it a few weeks ago.  It helped me remember about my new goals when it comes to my birthday.  I was going to make my birthday happy and fun, no matter the weather, circumstances, kid’s moods, or messy house. Today was going to be a great day.  And you know what, it really was.

Spencer came in bright and early at 6:30.  You would think after a full night of trick or treating and Halloween, he would sleep in.  But he doesn’t. He has always been our early riser.  And that’s ok.  The kids had the day off of school, so it was nice to have some relaxing time.Then William woke up with a stinky bum at 6:45.  Changed him and tricked him into thinking it was still night time...and it worked!  Went back to bed until 8.  We made pumpkin pancakes.  The kids helped with the dishes.  Spencer was mad and Brooke didn’t do much, but Hailey helped willingly and that was great.  We read some books, all the kids snuggled around me. I love how they all have to be touching some part of me while we read.  That used to make me feel claustrophobic, now it just makes me feel loved.  I folded some laundry and they played and read.  Then we made kool aid play do.  They had fun with that for awhile.  

Then it was lunch and naptime.  William wouldn’t fall asleep out of sheer exhaustion.  So, I held him and he went right to sleep and I sat there and savored him.  And I thought, “Could this be any more perfect?”  I am so blessed to be surrounded by people who love me and just can’t get enough of me. I know this won’t last forever.  This overlooking of all of my faults and issues.  And I am grateful that kids are so forgiving and loving.  Then Brooke started to have a meltdown.  So, I put William to bed and got Brooke ready for a “nap”.  Really, I was hoping she would sleep because she is so tired, but she did stay in her room and lay down for awhile.  Hailey and Spencer made me a play do birthday cake out of purple cake (my favorite color), and bells (fitting, I know).  They were so proud and it was so creative.  

They went to do quiet time downstairs and I saw that I had gotten some wonderful messages on facebook from friends I love.  I took a nap, only 20 minutes, but that’s all you need for a pick me up!  I went downstairs to finish a movie with the kids and we all piled on an old green sofa chair.  It was cozy.  William woke up and I had to force the kids outside.  Do you know how hard it is to get kids to move after a busy Halloween night?  Well, it’s hard.  But we managed to get dressed (at 4 pm) and go outside.  We played superheroes. I was Logy from Thor.  We took pictures of the kids in the yellow Fall leaves and I had Hailey take one of me, a rare photo of mom dressed and with make up on, to document my 33rd year of life.  

We got ready for the church carnival and went and all had a fun time.  The kids went to bed nicely and I just couldn’t quit hugging them.  First, because they are really cute!  Second, because I was just overflowing with love for them.  Nevermind that Brooke had been crying most of the day, that William was clingy, that Hailey had an attitude and that Spencer wouldn’t lay off about playing video games.  I was proud of myself for having a good birthday despite what the kids would do and because they are so sweet and loving.  Blake worked out a “secret” plan to take the kids out in the morning.  Spencer was to excited to keep the secret. I asked what I was supposed to do while they were gone.  His response, “That’s not my concern.”    

I loved getting the phone call from my parents singing “Happy, happy birthday, Heather dear.”  I loved hearing from my sister, Michelle, who I don’t get to talk to as much as I would like!  I loved hearing from my friend Sari, the one I play phone tag with for months before getting to talk.  I loved hearing from my one of my favorite friends, Laurie, who drank a dr. pepper (or two) in my honor. I loved getting texts from Las Vegas friends, college roommates, my family and people who thought of me.  I let go of my “perfect” birthday, ie. bath, food, silence and embraced my “present” birthday, messy, fun, loving and wonderful.  I hope I have 50sh more years of birthdays to come.  So, I can look back on my life and see the progress and see what I have done with these years that have been given to me. I am happy to say that I haven’t been lazy and that I have accomplished a lot in these years. I am excited to see what will happen in the years to come.  So, bring it on wrinkles and gray hairs!  I might be 33 in body, but I am much younger in spirit.

Together (five minute friday)

Here is my post for Five minute friday from Lisa Jo Baker's blog. I recommend these prompts to anyone stuck in a rut or if you just want to remember your life.

Together

I had a feeling of ultimate togetherness this morning.  I went to get my 18 month old, William out of bed.  He was happily jumping and babbling in his bed, so eager for the opportunity of a new day.  I pulled him out and smelled his new head, though not the same smell as brand new baby, he still has the smell of a new soul.  A toddler about ready to become a little boy.  The smell of heaven and sweaty head and just that sweet baby smell.  I laid him down to change his diaper and hugged him and as I hugged him, I just couldn’t stop hugging him.  We pressed our cheeks together, left cheek on left cheek.  He began sucking his thumb and making his happy sound, “mmm, mmm, mmm”.  The one he makes when his whole world is perfect.  I found myself tearing up because the sweetness of baby is one that is so fleeting and so short.  It is that smell, that soft baby skin, that happy gurgling and babbling and the clumsy walking. That is what makes my world a happy one.  His only interests are playing trains with me, sitting with me, running, laughing and eating applesauce.  For that moment, our warm cheeks pressed together and we were alone and still, it was the ultimate feeling of togetherness and I hope I never forget it.

Fall (five minute post)

Fall

I haven’t experienced many “real” Falls in my life. I have seen Fall leaves, but I have never lived in Fall.  I have discovered that I need Fall in my life.  There Is nothing like looking out the window to see a downpour of golden leaves, whirling towards the ground.  I can almost hear the sound of chimes as they gently move.  It is something everyone should see in their lives.  

I love knowing that we get a reprieve before the bleak winter.  Fall is a gift to us from an all knowing and all loving God.  One who knows that the stale white of Winter can certainly get old.  So before the Winter, He puts on a show for us.  A colorful show of purples, red, golds, yellows, browns.  When you rake and see the mish mash of colors in a giant pile, just begging to be jumped into, you know that there is nothing more perfect than this time.  Coming across a bright red tree, stretching so tall and wide that you when you take a picture of your 4 year old in front of it, she looks so tiny.  Then you hear her say in the back of the car, “Gold, yellow. Gold, yellow.” and you know she is naming the trees she sees.  Then you take a picture of the river with Fall trees in the background but no camera can perfectly picture the amazement that you feel.  And that is why I hope I will always have Fall in my life.

Listen (five minute post)

I have learned a lot about listening over the years. Not hearing, but listening.  They are two completely different things.  

Blake and I went on our first date on January 30, 2002.  We went to an Italian restaurant, Johnny Carinos, and talked until they closed.  Meaning, they turned the lights on and said they were closed.  We were so busy talking that we didn’t notice that we were the last ones there.  I wrote in my journal that night something like, “He really was interested in what I had to say. He really listened to me.”  And that is when I knew he was my perfect match.  

Over the years, he has continued to listen to me.  Sometimes better than others.  But on the important things, he has listened.  Like knowing, when I am about to lose my mind and needing a break.  Knowing that my secret dream is to open a bakery in a little nook of a small town and offer hot chocolate and treats and a calm atmosphere.  Knowing that I love writing and literature and my favorite poet is William Wordsworth.  Knowing that cala lilies are my favorite flower.  Knowing that I want to live in Ireland and experience that green, lush country. Knowing that our family is my number one priority.

He listens and hears and cares about what I have to think.  

Laundry (five minute friday)

Laundry

When I am folding the laundry, a routine and “boring” task, I come across

A baby sock, yellow with stripes

Why is this in here? This is size three months.

I don’t have any three month olds in the house anymore.

I take a smell of it.  It is so small, it is so sweet.

That baby smell remains.

When I am folding the laundry, a routine and “boring” task, I come across

Spencer’s favorite gray jacket.  

It is faded and getting too small. But don’t tell him that.

He would wear it faded, dirty and shrunk.

When I am folding the laundry, a routine and “boring” task I come across

Hailey’s jeans, the ones she wrote on in 2nd grade.

And I told her we weren’t getting rid of them and she said:

“That’s ok, I write on them when I wear them still.”

When I am folding the laundry, a routine and “boring” task, I come across

Brooke’s many pairs of underwear(s)

Because she changes them five times a day or more.

She changes them every time she goes potty.

But I am ok without because underwear(s) are a small piece of laundry.

When I am folding the laundry, a routine and “boring” task, I come across

William’s blue rag quilt that my mom made him

Before we moved to Iowa and knowing she wouldn’t meet him till he was much older.

I smell it and it has the smell of new baby, fresh, soft, real.

And I wish my kids would stay these sizes.

Rhythm (five minute prompt)

Rhythm

I was young when I read in a book that “rhythm” is the only word that has no “real” vowels. I thought that was amazing.  I have always loved words.  I have favorite words.  I love “luscious”, “wonderful”, “spectacular”, “smooshy” and many others. I do not enjoy the word “moist”. It has always grossed me out and my husband thinks that is hilarious.  I love that words put together in the right order make the most beautiful music.  That I can cry over words.  That I can become angry over words.  That I can feel excited over words.  Words can make a nation rise or fall.  Words determine how we feel about ourselves and our lives.  Words can make a person have confidence or tear them down. The power of the word is long lasting and never ending.  No matter if we have fancy clothes or houses or cars, words are the things that last forever.  I will always remember the words to the song my Grandma sang “Jack was a lonely cowboy.”  I remember my husband’s words and my kids praises. I remember any praise from my mom and mother in law.  Sadly, I remember negative words as well.  Sometimes those negative words are helpful and sometimes they are not.  But words said cannot be taken back.  Words create and break relationships.  Words are the foundation to families.  And words shared over dinner, bedtime, bathtime, playtime, while walking, while working, while hugging will be the words that shape us.  And hopefully those words will also shape future generations and they will understand the power of words.

In Between (5 minute post)

In Between

I have had issues recently with my life.  I have got stuck in the “humdrum” tasks. You know how it goes. Suddenly, you are just bored by things!  Which is not a good thing to be when you have four kids and lots to do.  And suddenly I am on a kick to get the house cleaned to pass the time because my 4 year old is driving me nutso and my 18 month old is so clingy.  And cleaning up is the only thing I can control and manage.  Because those two little ones are so wonderfully needy.  And that is their job.  And to teach me patience and empathy, but it can get so routine somedays.

My point is that in between laundry, wiping noses, making food, reading books, cleaning, hugging, blocks and puzzles, life happens.  In between the day to day “boring” tasks I need to do, life is happening.  It is in between the laundry load and the little conversation I overhear about toy cars.  It’s doing the dishes and looking down to see William banging with spoons and knowing that someday he won’t want to do that.  It’s bath time and the splashing explosion and the sudsy faces and hair and a “Santa face” on accident.  It’s the snuggling in bed and it becomes a family affair in a twin bed, where everyone is squished.  

I just don’t want to spend too much time on “tasks” that I miss the very important “in between” moments.  The ones that matter the most.

Beautiful

Beautiful

Beauty depends on what you think is beautiful.

Beauty, to me, is a wrinkle.  Or many wrinkles.  I remember looking at the hands of my grandmas and noticing the wrinkles and the stretchy, worn, smooth skin and admiring them.  Because you can truly tell a person by their hands.  You can tell if they are a gardener, a nail biter, a carpenter, or a helper.  You can tell if a manicure is a weekly occurrence.

Beauty is a wrinkle next to your eye.  When you smile, it crinkles and your eyes twinkle.  Your forehead has thought lines and you have smile lines alongside your mouth.  Wrinkles tell a story, your story.  If you smiled, if you laughed, if you had the time of your life while you had your life to live.  I celebrate wrinkles. I celebrate that you can keep your wrinkles and who cares if people know you age.  Who cares if they know you didn’t have time to put anti-wrinkle cream on your face.  If you look your age when you are 81, like my friend Jo Ott does, then you are blessed.  She looks as though she has lived a life of glory and kindness and happiness.  You can tell that she was beautiful as a young woman and that she is beautiful now, because of the life she led.  And the wrinkles tell that story.

Present (five minute prompt)

Present

Being present is part of life.  It is a harder part of life than one would think.  Before I became a mom, I knew I would be present in every moment of my kid’s lives.  I would notice everything.  I would look them right in the eyes every time we talked.  I would watch every amazing thing they did.  However, the reality of motherhood is that there is laundry, dishes, cooking, cleaning, tantrums, sheer exhaustion!  It is hard to always be present.  It is hard to always want to be present.  

I don’t disappear on facebook or pinterest or anything like that really, but I daydream. I daydream sometimes when I could be more interested.  When I could be more present in what is going on in my kid’s lives.  I am not sure they would ever know that.   But I know it.  Every night, I go to bed thinking I am going to be more present.  I spend one on one with each kid every day.  I look at pictures, somersaults, puzzles, lego buildings, bike ridings. I give hugs, kisses and laugh! I guess I just want to feel more excited about them all!  And most of the time, I am pretty dang proud of my kids. I love seeing their creations and learning about them and hearing their stories and being present!  But there are times when I am not.

I know I am only human and that I do deserve to be “Heather” sometimes and not “mom”.  I wish I didn’t feel guilt over this. Someday I hope to figure out how to be present, but also have time alone without feeling guilty about it.

Ordinary (five minute prompt)

Ordinary (Five minute prompt from Lisa Jo Baker)

A red radio flyer tricycle, plastic, not metal like those from my childhood.

A small girl, dark bob flying behind her

Shoulders hunched, legs circling wildly, laughter flowing

Hands grasping handles and holding tightly,

Wheel moving haphazardly, carelessly

Occasionally raising her legs into the air, screaming with laughter

At her wild and adventurous ways

“That is so cute.” an older man says one day

And smiles.  I am sure he is remembering days with his own young children.

An ordinary tricycle made extraordinary by a raven haired four year old

No inhibitions.  No pretentions.  

No knowledge of flaws or of an audience watching her.

Captivated by her free spirit and lack of concern for others impressions of her.

A cherry red tricycle, symbol of childhood and a growing girl.

One who can make an ordinary object become extraordinary.

Belong (five minute post)

Belong

Chubby fists, not quite a toddler, yet not quite big girl.  Still small enough to hold.  She turns my face to hers and whispers in my ear, “I belong with you.  You belong with me in my sweet heart.”  She nuzzles her button nose into my cheek and says, “Now say it to me, mom.”  And so, I do.  “I belong with you. You belong with me.  In my sweet heart.”  Her sweet innocence is one of her greatest qualities.  My round faced, raven haired, sweetheart.  She is a riddle and an open book.  You will know when she is angry, but still more when she is happy.  

She is young and innocent and wants to sing this song most nights and asks for it continuously in the car.  And she sings it in her own words, not the correct words, but her own words.  Which makes it all the better.  Because I know I will never regret whispering a sweet song to my Brooke and I won’t regret taking the time to let her whisper it to me.  Her little girl arms hugging my neck and spreading happiness and love to anyone who will accept it.  

Broken (five minute prompt)

Broken

I use a faded, holey, torn and well worn patchwork quilt to sleep with each night.  Ever since June 15sh, 2002, when Blake and I got married.  My best friend since 4th grade’s parents gave it to us for a wedding gift.  It is blue and white with stars throughout.  It is no longer my style, but I can’t seem to let it go.  It hardly covers, definitely doesn’t warm.  In the winter, I have to use two blankets, my holey patchwork and another less important blanket.  

I have never had a blanket attachment.  My sister did and I never could understand it, but I can now.  My mother in law tried to convince me to get rid of it when she came to visit and saw it’s condition, but I stood up for myself and for the broken blanket.  I couldn’t let it go.  It was the smell, the feel, the worn blanket I had slept with for 11 years.  I had grown accustomed to it.  Then my husband tried to convince me to get rid of it.  “Every time you move, it rips.  I wake up at night to a ripping blanket.”  But I still can’t do it.  It’s my security blanket, if you will.  

Now, Hailey has grown attached to it as well.  I was going through things in her room and found a piece of the patchwork.  I was bout to throw it in the garbage, when she grabbed it and said she slept with it at night.  I will hang on to this blanket until there is nothing left to it.  It will shrivel and shrink to a size that might not even be useable anymore, but I am using it and that is all the matters.

Write (5 minute Friday)

This is my prompt from Lisa Jo Baker.  Write.

Write

Writing makes me a person.  My world is constantly constant, meaning I have four small children and one great husband, but I am a very needed person.  I am rushing and running and doing and cleaning and washing, like so many others out there.  I am frazzled, exhausted, frustrated, happy, excited, and so many more emotions.  

But when I am writing, I am an idea or a thought.  I have duties beyond the day to day.  I have  duty to share what I think and feel.  I have a still mind, spewing out words quicker than I can write them.  My mind clears and I understand myself.  My emotions are allowed to come out without consequence, without stopping.  I am not cluttered.  I asked a friend what he thought of my writing and he said, “You seem still.”  

I have been writing for years, since college and before that.  It has always been a place of tranquility and peace for me.  A place to commune with myself and with my Heavenly Father.  A place where I can say what I need to, without judgment, without anger, without retribution.  It is a safe and happy place.  It is a peaceful place.  One I enjoy going to.

Lonely (take 2)

Lonely (take 2)

I originally wrote my five minute prompt on “lonely” here, but when I got to the end, I realized that I had found my truly loneliest time in life, so going to write that now.  Although, it is hard to write about this!  So many emotions and feelings and really, a very sad, yet growing time in life for me.  I have always wanted to write about it, but am overwhelmed with it all. This post might make Blake look like a bum, but he was so great and very involved and this was all part of my growing experience. Here we go.

Waiting in a hospital room with my new baby, William, happy and healthy and a wonderful blessing.  Blake is nearby, resting, but who can rest with a new baby to love?  

I look out the window, a rainy gray day in Iowa.  I don’t even know where I am really.  I have only lived in Iowa for two weeks.  We went to the wrong hospital for the delivery! I couldn't find my way home if I tried. Yet, we found our way and here we are.  

No regular traditions this time.  No grandparents with a birthday cake for the new baby.  No friends to come meet him.  Texting and calling just isn't the same.  No In N Out, a tradition we started in Las Vegas, when I was so starving after delivering that I could eat a whole meal AND the chocolate shake. Nobody to share this new spirit with.

The rain is sad.  The moment is a bit tainted by loneliness and I cry.  I usually cry because of the joy of the baby, the fear of the baby, the excitement and feeling of success!  But this time, it is a pitiful cry of loneliness and wondering, how am I going to do this?  How am I so alone in the stark, sterile hospital.  

Yet, I know I am not alone.  I have never felt so carried in my life.  Never have I felt the presence of Heavenly Father guiding me so much, carrying me, guarding me.  I am lifted and honestly carried.  Given the strength to do this hard thing.  And knowing, but not knowing that I am doing this.  I am doing a very scary thing for me.  But I am not doing it alone.  Without my God, I would surely be alone.

And this is my lesson, I am supposed to feel this loneliness so I will know that I am not alone. I have never felt true loneliness, because I have always had my Heavenly Father to help me.  And He, who created my spirit, knows me perfectly and knows just how to calm me and help me to grow.  Growth, a painful state, but necessary to reach full potential.  And I am grateful for that time, because without it, I wouldn’t know my own strength or the strength of my God.

Story (5 minute prompt)

Story

story

My first story and one I love the most is one of

friendship, shared by two young girls

in the depths of fear, in the depths of trust.

A short story, around 100 pages

yet, so much information fills those pages.

Reread so many times and opened a door for me,

A door that could not be closed.

Learning about the Holocaust and first feeling:

How could something like this happen?

Then feeling:

The triumph of the human spirit.

The saviors, the rescuers, the risk takers

And the believers.  

Those who helped out of love, not out of glory.

Those who helped because they knew it was the

right thing.  Then I wonder: What would I do?

Would I help or ignore or pretend?

Would I put my safety on the line knowing,

Knowing that my life could be at stake

Knowing that my family’s life could be at stake.

Knowing that this story must continue to be shared.

To avoid repetition.  To avoid closed minds.  

To share it with my 8 year old daughter, but thinking

I don’t want this ugly world to taint her mind.

But knowing that sometimes ugly things have to be told

To help the world to heal, to help the soul to rise up.

To teach my children to think:

What would I do? Would I help or hide?

And what kind of legacy will I leave?

Number the Stars by Lois Lowry