What Matters Most

There are so many things I want to write about and I just can't seem to get to the computer and get it done. I want to share my experience in Washington D.C. when I went with my husband and mother-in-law to the American Mother's National Convention a couple of weeks ago. I want to share the amazing experience I had the following weekend when I attended a Power of Moms Retreat in Park City at Richard and Linda Eyre's home. I want to write about daily life and all I am learning, plus much, much more and hopefully I will get to it. But today, I have something weighing heavily on my mind, and so I just have to get it out.

What matters most in your life?

That is the question I have asked myself over and over the past couple of months as I found myself feeling over scheduled and overwhelmed. I, like many mothers out there, love my children to pieces and feel like they are amazing people who could capture the moon if necessary. I mean, they are smart and funny and oh, so capable. On top of that, they are good, good souls who can make such a difference in the world if they chose to. So, I've done what I thought a good mother would do.

I've provided numerous opportunities for them to develop their talents, hone their skills, learn responsibility and teamwork and goal-setting, and so much more by encouraging them to be involved in a lot of different things. On top of that, to set a good example and use my own skills in productive ways, I have added a heap of responsibilities to my own plate. And you know what I have reaped in return?

A bit of chaos, unrest in my soul, weariness, and a strong desire to change things.

The truth is, although my children are fabulous, they are really nothing more special than anyone else's children. They probably won't be president of the United States some day or find the cure for cancer or be Olympic gold medalists. And you know what? That's OK with me. Those things are all worthy goals and wonderful accomplishments, and I would be thrilled if any of my children achieved any one of those things. But not at the expense of what matters most.

And what matters most to me is this: that my children choose to be committed to the gospel of Jesus Christ and that each one becomes a better parent than I am.

Period.

If they don't play college sports or become valedictorian; if they don't master the piano and a foreign language; if they don't ever make football captain or become a volleyball MVP, I can live with that. Because, although all of those things are awesome and require valuable skills such as dedication and hard work, they are not what matter most. Yes, they can build self-esteem and team-working skills. Yes, they have value and they make life more fun and rewarding--all of which I am in favor of--but if my children do all of those things and yet do not choose to live what we believe or to be dedicated, loving parents, then what would be the purpose?

Now, don't get me wrong. I love sports! I love music! I want my children to develop their talents. I want them to be involved in activities they enjoy. And I am in no way implying that anyone else's family is too busy or needs to make a change. I am speaking solely of my own situation. And I know we have to be more careful. I am blessed to be married to a man who cares as much about our family as I do and who really wants to work with me in raising our children. Together, we have to be so wise. It's not easy. There is a lot of enticement and pressure to do many things. Good things. But I am simply not satisfied with spending too much of our time, energy and resources on good things.

I want more.

Three weeks ago one of my huge commitments ended. I was coaching a club volleyball team that required me to drive to Weber State two nights a week for practices and of course be at all of the tournaments (there were nine in all--one in California). I love volleyball and I love coaching. But when it was all over, I felt something I hadn't anticipated. Complete and utter relief and freedom. I went outside and played with my kids when they got home from school. I laughed. I soaked up the beautiful weather. I hugged my kids over and over and told them how much I loved them. It was almost like I had missed them, like I had been gone or something, when in fact, we had been living under the same roof all along.

But it had been too much. And the past three weeks weeks since it all ended, I have been able to give myself to motherhood again. I have been able to plan for our summer, get organized, and work on important family matters. Our days have been full of hugs, giggles, stories, work, play, and so much more.

And it has felt wonderful!

This is the life I truly want to live. Giving the best of myself to my husband and children. Not signing up for more than I can handle. Not having so many commitments that I go to bed at night exhausted at 9:00 p.m., having not spent most of my day's energy on my family. Not being overwhelmed by schedules and commitments.

I woke up with a startling realization the other day. It was this: YOUR CHILDREN WANT YOU. I had just spent the previous afternoon playing 3-Square with my kids in the front driveway, laughing until we cried, being silly and goofy, enjoying time together. This had come after my children had begged me to go out and play with them, promising work and obedience if I would just give them ME. I realized all of a sudden that their desires to spend time with me was no small thing. It was nothing to be taken for granted. Surely there will come a day when I am not their first choice (or their second or third), so how can I not take advantage of this time in my life when my children really want me--my time, my energy, my focus? I simply can't let this opportunity pass me by.

Motherhood. Family. Our faith. That is what matters most to me. That is where true joy lies. That is where my heart truly wants to be. And so. . .

I'm going to reach out and take it. I'm going to choose it over everything else. I'm going to wear out my days in teaching, loving, guiding, working with, laughing with my children, and if it means we give some good things up in the process, so be it.

I only get one shot at being their mother and helping them understand and choose what matters most. I can never come back to this point in our lives and make a different choice. I have to make today count. And then I have to get up tomorrow and do the same thing. There will always be many choices. I want so badly to choose right, to be wise enough to go for the best things in life, rather than getting caught up in only what is good.

I make so many mistakes as a mother. So many. But I have to believe if I can accomplish this one thing--staying focused on what matters most--I will be a more successful mother. And although I know it will not be easy, these kids. . . well . . .

 

 . . . they are are oh, so worth it!

A Memorable Mother's Day

This is how Mother's Day started for me:

French toast. My sweet husband tried to copy a breakfast we ate (at Ebbitt's Grill) while in Washington D.C. the week before because I raved about it. So yummy.

Breakfast in bed. The "Special" plate. Warm, smiling children excited to present me with a plethora of Mother's Day cards and coupons.

And this is how Mother's Day ended for me:

A trip to Wee Care to get stitches.

Everything was going fine . . . until it wasn't. We had decided to go on a relaxing family walk together to enjoy the beautiful day and get some wiggles out. Dan and I buckled the baby in the stroller while the rest of the kids hopped on their bikes. Just as we rounded the first corner, we happened upon some friends. This was serendipitous due to the fact we were heading right to their home to wish them good luck in their upcoming move and tell them how much we would miss their family.

We started talking. In an effort to ward off boredom, some of the kids started riding their bikes in circles near the corner where we were standing. That's when my husband suddenly said, "Oh no." I turned just in time to see my five-year-old hop up off the gritty blacktop road and come running towards us, howling.

We were only about 20 yards away, but by the time we met (we running towards him and he running towards us), he was already bleeding profusely. Dan swept him up in his arms and we proceeded down the street back to our home, my hand pressed against his bloody head in the area it appeared the wound was.

We laid him on the counter and proceeded to try to clean him up so we could tell how bad he was injured. There was literally blood everywhere--on his shirt, on his feet--even his ear was full of blood. Not knowing exactly what to do, especially since it was a Sunday evening, which meant our medical options were limited, we called his Primary teacher, who just happens to be a nurse. She came right over with her medical kit. We finally got him cleaned up enough to tell he had a pretty bad abrasion and puncture in his skull above his left eye. She bandaged him up and suggested we take him to get stitches.

He was obviously not too happy about life at this point.

Ugh!

There is nothing like seeing your children in pain. This little boy happens to be a pretty tough kid, so hearing him constantly cry about his head hurting was agonizing. He had a humongous goose egg on his head and I was quite worried about a concussion due to the fact that he broke his fall off the bicycle with his head smacking on the road.

Thankfully, everything turned out fine. Four hours and three big blue stitches later, we returned home with a tired, achy, but happy, little boy.

It's amazing to me it looked this good in the end.

So, although it wasn't quite the Mother's Day I was hoping for, it was definitely memorable. And I just have to say it was meaningful as well. As I held my bloody little boy in my arms, waiting for our turn to see the doctor, my eyes filled with tears at how much I loved him. I thought of how blessed I was to be right there, holding my child in my arms, comforting him, trying to ease his pain. I thought of how much this little boy loves me back, despite all my flaws and mistakes as a mother, and I just couldn't help but feel part of something so much bigger and more important than anything else in the world. I looked into his trusting blue eyes and was humbled at the thought that God trusted me and his dad enough to take care of him and train him and teach him and protect him.

And so, at the end of the day, I went to bed happy and humble. Grateful my child would be OK and that his injuries weren't worse, grateful for my husband's strong arms and quiet reassurances, grateful once again to be a mother.

BERKLEY

It's hard to believe one year can pass so quickly.

One year ago today, we brought our beautiful baby girl home from the hospital. She was five days old.

She was tiny. Only 4 lbs., 13 oz. She was beautiful. She was ours. She was a miracle to us.

Berkley was born on May 5th, Cinco de Mayo. Because of her birthday falling on this holiday, her mother named her Maya. We had planned to rename her Berkley Fern (after my Grandma, Fern Nate, an amazing woman), but when we found out her birth mother had named her Maya, we felt impressed to add it to her name, thus becoming Berkley Maya Fern Conger.

A lot of names for one little girl, but each one was so significant, we couldn't leave it out. Besides, this was no ordinary little girl so of course she would need no ordinary name.

Dan and I could hardly believe this tiny miracle was ours. Having given birth four times before, I had experienced (and my poor husband with me) the progression of pregnancy and the anticipation of birth. But adoption is a bit different. There were no physical signs from my body warning me the date might be arriving; there were no sleepless nights due to discomfort; no contractions or heartburn or crazy food cravings.

There was only hope.

And yes, a little fear, too.

Not the usual kind of fear, like hoping I could endure another labor or hoping she didn't have my chin. This time, the fear was that we would anxiously await her arrival, only to be told she wouldn't really be ours.

That is everyone's fear who adopts a child. But for us, it was even more poignant because this very thing had already happened. We had anticipated two baby girls being placed in our arms, only to have our hopes dashed when the birth mother never showed up with her babies. It was excruciating pain. Something I hoped to never feel again.

I will never forget waking up the morning of May 5th to the phone ringing. It was the adoption agency. The birth mom was in labor! It was five weeks before her due date, so although we had been warned the baby might come a little early, we were not expecting it to be quite so soon. I was ecstatic, but frightened. Hopeful but careful. Would everything work out okay? Would the baby be healthy? Would the mother have an easy delivery? Would she sign the papers?

Thankfully, I didn't have to wait long. The baby was born shortly after her arrival in the hospital. She was healthy and strong, but tiny. How I ached to hold her in my arms! But it would not be so. The birth mom wanted a closed adoption, which meant we could not go to the hospital while she was there, which meant it would still be a couple of days until I could hold this sweet baby in my arms. It was an agonizing wait.

We talked. We prayed. We hoped. And we prayed some more. Finally the news came. Her mother had signed the papers and this baby would be ours! Oh, the gratitude Ifelt! After two long months of waiting for this birth, trying not to get our hopes up, but hoping just the same, she would finally be ours.

Still we waited. We were told we could not come to the hospital to see her but would have to wait until she was eating well enough to come home. I tried to be understanding. I tried to be paitent. Finally, I called the agency, and in tears, explained to them that my baby needed me and I needed her. They arranged a short visit. Berkley ate well for the first time as I held her in my arms and told her how much I loved her.

I am often asked how the bonding experience goes with adoption as compared to biological children. I cannot answer that for everybody, and my guess is, it's different for every person. But for me, the first time I laid eyes on Berkley and held her in my arms, she was mine. She was familiar. She was a Conger. Yes, it was sort of surreal, but it was also very real.

After five days, we were finally able to check her out of the hospital and take her home to four siblings who could hardly wait to get their hands on her. It was a joyous day.

She was, and still is, constantly kissed and loved.

Now, 365 days later, all I can say is that this baby has changed our lives. Each of our lives. Our family will never be the same. We are bonded by our love for this little curly-haired girl. She is nothing short of a miracle to us, just as each of our other children are.

Berkley's blessing day

I thank God this day for Berkley's birth mother. For one year now we have written her monthly letters and sent monthly pictures. I hope wherever she is, whatever she is doing, she will think of this sweet baby she so unselfishly gave to us, and she will smile, feeling our gratitude for her decision.

Berkley's One Year Photos--Is it just me or is that the cutest little leopard butterfly you've ever seen?

Love her beautiful smile

Those chubby little legs are absolutely irresistible!

My life has been so blessed! To have given birth four times to four uniquely wonderful children, to have added another sweet spirit to our home through the miracle of adoption, to be married to a truly wonderful man.

I could never ask for more.

Amazing, Incredible Women

My head is literally swimming due to the fact that I've just spent two weekends at different conventions talking about motherhood and listening to others share their feelings/stories, etc. on this topic. Since I am way behind on life, I am going to try to catch up one post at a time; therefore, this week I am going to write about the amazing experience I had last week when I attended a luncheon to honor Utah mothers at the Little America Hotel in Salt Lake City (and hopefully soon I can share my experiences from being in Washington D.C. at the National American Mothers Convention, which is where I've been for the past five days).

The greatest blessing that has come to me from my association with American Mothers over the years, and especially this year, is unquestionably the remarkable women I have had the privilege of meeting and learning from. To rub shoulders with amazing women who are wearing out their lives in the best way possible--taking care of their families--is truly an unbelievable experience for me. From this experience alone, I was privileged to associate with women such as:

Emi Edgley, 2011's Utah Young Mother of the Year. A delightful, amazing woman who warms everyone's heart she comes in contact with.

Cynthia Richards, 2012's Mother of the Year. A woman of strength and intelligence and amazing musical talent and insight.

The American Mother's State Board--full of incredible, capable women who serve diligently in a cause they believe in (too many names to mention, unfortunately, but truly wonderful women).

A group of 18 women being honored as Mothers of Achievement for their outstanding accomplishments within their roles as mothers and also in other notable areas, women such as Elaine Dalton (Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saint's General Young Women's President) and Saren Loosli (co-founder of Power of Moms, an amazing organization that promotes deliberate parenting), just to name a few.



Just some of the women who were there. Sorry--not a very good picture.

Wow! It's a little staggering to think about.

I had the unique opportunity to be a guest speaker at this function. I know what you're thinking--probably the same thing I was: Why in the world would they ask me to speak when there were so many more qualified women to do it? The reason is simply that I am the Young Mother of the Year for Utah this year, and so they were graciously honoring me and allowing me the opportunity to share my thoughts and feelings on motherhood. And it truly was an honor.

After the luncheon, I had the opportunity to visit with many of these women, and I can tell you, I felt part of something great. I thought of the powerful force for good all of these women are (and many others there as well), and I could hardly believe I was in the midst of such greatness. And that's what I truly think dedicated mothers are living--lives of greatness.

My husband is always there to support me. He is absolutely amazing!

My sweet mother, Aunt Colleen and sister Katie came as well. I'm truly so blessed.

At the luncheon. Did I mention Ruth Todd, KSL news anchor was the Master of Ceremonies? She is another incredible woman! (I don't think that person speaking is her, however--I am realizing my pictures are awful).

You don't have to be the president of some organization, or have doctorate degrees in six different areas, or speak three languages, or spend hours volunteering to make a valuable contribution to society and to the world. You simply have to be a dedicated mother. After all, who else affects the outcome of our society more than the women who are raising the next generation?

I left this luncheon feeling humbly grateful once again for the blessing of being a mother. If I am never known for anything else in my life, I hope to always be known as a mother. If I do nothing more than raise children who grow up, marry well, and then become successful mothers and fathers, my life will be all I ever hope it to be. My goal is to raise daughters who become better mothers than I am, and if my sons ever became better fathers than their own father, well then, they would be absolutely remarkable!

To conclude, just let me say this: I am humbled by the greatness that surrounds me on a regular basis. I never cease to be amazed at the women I meet who are quietly making every day as a mother count. I am blessed by what I learn from each one. And I've decided that this opportunity to serve as the YMOY this year for Utah is truly awesome because I get to meet and associate with and learn from incredible women everywhere! It's fabulous!

(BTW, I was tempted to post my speech, or at least part of it because many people have asked me for it, but I didn't want to overwhelm any blog readers with pages and pages, so if you are interested, feel free to e-mail me: lori.conger@gmail.com and I can send it to you).

One Fish, Two Fish, Dead Fish, Blue Fish

I went to bed at midnight Friday night. Not what I hoped. After all, I had an important speech on motherhood to give the very next day at Little America in Salt Lake City to an audience of over 100 people. I needed my beauty sleep. I needed a clear head. I needed everything to run smoothly the next morning so I could feel at ease and be focused on the task at hand.

Didn't exactly happen that way.

While lying in bed Friday night (at midnight), I mulled and mulled over how to spend my time the next morning. I needed to leave Kaysville by 10:45 to make it on time to the luncheon where I would be speaking. My son had a baseball game at 9:30, and although he plays 100 or more baseball games this season, this happened to be the only local one, so it was hard to pass up a simple opportunity to see him play. BUT, on the other hand, I knew I would be leaving my other children for a good portion of the day, and I had already left them quite a bit the day before, running errands. What to do. . . What to do. . .

I finally fell asleep, deciding I would see what the morning brought. The next day I woke up early and began my attempt at looking beautiful (after all, if the speech failed, I needed to at least look good, right?). Since I was so "on the ball," I was ready early and decided to go to the game. I knew it meant a lot to my son, and since I had been coming down a little hard on his behavior lately, I felt I needed to reinforce to him how much I loved him. I was a little concerned about smelling like a little puppy when I got to the luncheon from spending my morning outside, but decided my son was definitely worth it! Off I went.

After maybe 10 minutes, the phone rang. It was home. I thought to myself, What could possibly have gone wrong already? I barely left the house. I was tempted for a brief moment to not answer, but I have to admit I have set up a pretty catchy ring tone from home that makes it hard to ignore. It's the song from Lady Antebellum called, "I Need You Now," and the phrase that always plays goes like this: "I said I wouldn't call, but I've lost all control, and I need you now." So fitting. They always promise they won't call. They always do anyway.

I slid the green button on the screen and answered. It was my seven-year-old. She sounded a little panicked. Pretty soon I found out why.

It appeared our baby had eaten our pet fish!

Situated right next to Berkley's crib is a dresser (living in the basement, every room is jammed with furniture, making it impossible to situate her bedroom without a dresser adjacent to her crib). On the dresser is (was) the fish bowl. The blue beta fish is actually my five-year-old son's that he got for Christmas. It's been a very resilient fish. I mean, it's lasted a whole four months already, even though there have been times we've forgotten to feed it, or times when we've fed it too much, or times it's gone a little too long in between bowl cleanings. It seems it survived everything--except Berkley, that is.

I put Berkley down for a nap right before I left. She's kind of going through that in-between stage where it's almost time to bag the morning nap altogether, but some days she just has to have it. She acted tired, so I put her down. I guess she wasn't as tired as I thought. I guess Boston forgot to slide the fish bowl back into the opposite corner of the dresser when he fed it that morning. I guess Berkley thought it looked like a fun toy. I guess she was able to reach the fish bowl by standing up in her crib and pulling it over towards her. I guess she dumped it in her crib. Then my only guess is that our poor fish floundered around until it slipped away to fish heaven, and then Berkley, who puts absolutely everything in her mouth, ate it!

This is what our fish used to look like--pretty beautiful fish, don't you think?

I can only say "guess" at these events because, in reality, only Berkley knows what really happened. All that the rest of us know is that where there was once a beautiful blue fish swimming in a tank by her crib, there is now only an empty bowl. And since the only thing we could find of our pet fish was a few blue bits and pieces here and here on her crib sheet, well, the conclusion seems kind of obvious. Berkley ate it!

Does this look like the face of a little blue beta-eater?

So, although I hoped for a disaster-free, stress-free morning to help me feel confident and carefree as I left to give a speech on none other than motherhood, well . . . it just didn't happen. And all I can say is, "That's motherhood!"

At the luncheon that honors amazing women. More on this to come. It was an incredible experience. Those are just a few of the remarkable women who were there. It was hard to believe that I was speaking to them.

My Kids . . . and More

I love my kids so darn much.

I mean, they (of course) can be difficult at times, and they definitely make life more challenging, but they also make it so worthwhile. They make me smile clear to my toes just thinking of each of them. I've sort of made up nicknames for each of them. For instance . . .

Hallee I lovingly termed "Hallelujah" (so clever, don't ya think?). It's because she makes my heart sing that very word. I'm so grateful for her! She's delightful and smart and clever and good to the bones. This is a picture of her playing volleyball, which by the way, I'm so proud of her for. She's a 12-year-old playing on a 14-U Power team, and although the year has held its share of challenges, she's done great.

Getting ready to pass the ball--see that intensity? I love it!

Jump serving. Wow--she's got hops!:)

The pose she always strikes in between plays

Isn't she just a doll? She's so grown-up for a sixth grader. Since she's so tall (now taller than I am), we share pretty much everything: shoes, clothes, accessories, but mostly a closeness that I am so grateful for.

Then there's Nate. I call him "Nate the Great" (not very original, I know). Why? Because he truly is great. He's one of those kids who can do anything well (ya know, the kind you want to smack?). He's especially good at sports and loves playing any type. Right now he's in baseball season. Here are a few pics.

But, Nate is also the tender-hearted type. He is so cute with our baby (see below) and he really cares about people. He has the best sense of humor of any kid I've ever known. He's one of those kids who can laugh at himself, and it's so refreshing. This morning he accidentally dumped a bowl of pineapple all over the kitchen floor. He did a pretty slip-slap clean-up job and then left a paper on the tile that said, "Wet Floor." Not exactly the kind of clean-up job a mother appreciates, but I have to admit it made me smile. Man, I love this kid!

Then there's Regyn, who I have lovingly renamed my "Ray of Sunshine" (we used to call her Ray, Ray, so Ray of Sunshine is so fitting). I call her this because she is such a bright little spot in my life. She is happy and helpful and just plain adorable in her own little way. Regyn definitely has a style and personality all her own, and I seriously don't know what our family would do without her. The other day she was working on homework and asked for help. She needed to know what number plus nine equaled nine (okay, don't think too hard); in other words 9+_=9. She simple could not figure it out. She was way over thinking it. Finally, she said, "My teacher just doesn't like me. She's always giving me hard homework like this!" Lol! That's Regyn!

Who can resist that beautiful smile?

Regyn with the American Girl doll she just had to have (but seldom plays with)

Boston is next. My nickname for him isn't very clever. It's "Bostonian." I call him this because it sounds cool:) And because he's a smart little boy (Smithsonian/Bostonian--not sure if it makes sense to anyone besides me). He's very serious. My favorite thing is when he wrinkles his eyes and forehead as he thinks about something. He is my little buddy. I seriously will miss him like crazy next year when he goes to kindergarten. He's so easy to have around, and boy does he love babies (as you can see below).

Is this kid handsome or what (Actually, that's my other nickname for him--Handsome)

He kisses our baby at least 100 times a day

Last, but not least, is Berkley, whom I lovingly call "Berklilicious." The reason is simple--she's absolutely delicious! She is the kind of baby that makes you want to have a dozen. I sometimes think she's too good to be true. She is delightful and beautiful and content. She has brought so much love and joy into our home, I've thought we would burst at times! What a blessing! We could never have imagined when we turned in adoption papers that we would get something (someone) so amazing in return, but I'm here to tell you, she's worth every penny and more. She's worth living in the basement for. She's worth starting over for. She is oh, so wonderful!

Seriously--Is that adorable or what?

This is what happens when she sneaks away for a minute without me watching--got into the Easter candy (malted eggs)

This is what happens when I'm blogging and not paying attention for a minute--got into the preschool cubbies.

So, these kids are definitely not perfect. But they are mine. And I love them with every piece of me. They are the reason I get up in the morning (and the reason I go to bed exhausted by 9:00 p.m. every night). They are the reason I try to be better, the reason I have hope, the reason life is good.


One of my favorite times of the day--first thing in the morning--when we all snuggle in my bed for scripture reading (good thing I have a king-sized bed!)

And then, of course, there is my husband--the father to all these kids. He's pretty much amazing. He's patient and good and everything I really hope to be some day. How my life is blessed!



Happy Birthday to Me!

Yesterday was my birthday. It's not something I usually announce because, well, the older I get the more I tend to feel a bit disgruntled about the date appearing so quickly again. But, over the past few years I have learned to really love my birthday. Not because of my increasing age and gray hairs, of course, but because I realize all over again every year how blessed my life is for the many people who are in it. From phone calls to Facebook messages, to texts and e-mails, I can't help but feel loved. And who doesn't love that feeling??!!

This year was no exception. I was showered with birthday wishes from a bundle of different sources, each making me appreciate how good my life is. My favorites, however, came from my very own home. Here are a few of the notes I received from my children.

My 12-year-old daughter (original punctuation--apparently, she loves exclamation points):

"Happy Birthday!! I love you! I hope you like my present! I drew it last night! (She had drawn a beautiful picture of a mother holding a baby's tiny hand--only wish it was bigger so I could frame it--it's really good). I thought it would be perfect since you are always there to hold my hand! Did you know that if I was a person walking in the mall just looking around and I looked at you I would think you were 31?! (I was hoping for 20 something, but I'll take it--I just turned 37, btw). I know you think you are a 98 year old big, fat lady, but NO! (Have I ever mentioned how much I love children's honesty and bluntness? It's priceless). Well, love you!"

Okay, seriously, who could read that note without smiling? It still makes me chuckle. And I have to add that I am totally grateful to know I don't look like a 98-year-old big, fat lady! lol.

Here's one from my seven-year-old daughter (original spelling, of course):

"I was gowing to give you a new phone but it was too much money so I am gowing to give you a card instead."

So simple, yet so smile-provoking. I mean, a card is the next best thing if you can't get a phone, right?

Lastly, from my husband. I have to explain the gift so it doesn't sound too quirky. I have had back problems our whole married life, and as time goes on, my back simply gets worse, of course. I have degenerative discs, plus other problems, so my back hurts pretty much all the time. By the end of each day, I am exhausted from the constant discomfort, and the muscles in my back are usually in huge knots from working to compensate for the weakness in my lower back. Anyway, my husband over the years has perfected rubbing the knots out of my back. He puts his elbows into just the right spots and rubs, working out the knots. It's my favorite thing ever as it releases some of the tension in my back and feels so good. Okay, now to the gift and the note.



I woke up yesterday morning and stumbled to the living room to turn the fireplace on (it's a little cold in the basement in the mornings still) and gasped as I nearly ran into a huge table in the middle of the living room. When I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, I noticed it was a massage table!

Me, trying out the massage table--looks pretty official, don't you think?

Wow! What a birthday present--definitely not something I was expecting (I mean, who gives their wife a massage table for her birthday?). Attached to the table was a note that read:

"Happy Birthday. I love you. Lifetimes massages for free."

So simple but so profoundly thoughtful. At first I felt like laughing at the uniqueness of the gift, but then I felt like crying at my husband's selfless, thoughtful gift to me. It  truly was a gift of constant service. I'm sure he would rather not spend his evenings with his elbow in my back while I moan, but he is the kind of man who doesn't think about what he wants or what conveniences him; he thinks constantly about what makes others happy.

Oh, how blessed I am!

So I gave each of my children 5-minute massages after Sunday lunch. We closed the blinds, turned off the lights, put in a relaxing CD of piano music, lit a candle, and wa la! A makeshift spa--right in our living room! Of course most spas don't allow constant giggling and talking during the experience, but this happens to be a family spa, so it's okay.

Giving my 7-yr-old a massage. No, my hair doesn't really look like that--I think it's the effect of the plant behind me!

I know most families don't own massage tables, and I'm certainly not suggesting they get one, but I just have to say that for me, it was a perfect gift! More evidence that my life is extremely blessed.

And one more perk? The table folds up to the size of a suitcase. Whew! I had no idea where we were going to store it!