My Lord, My King

Today is Thanksgiving Day. I've saved the best for last. As always, on Thanksgiving Day I express my gratitude for my Savior, Jesus Christ.

More than anything else, my life revolves around my Savior. I want to be like Him. Every action I take in my life is taken with that at the forefront of my mind. Every aspect of who I am is tied to my faith in and love for Him. It's so deeply a part of me, that it's completely shaped my life. I would be a completely different person if not for my relationship with Jesus Christ.

I am a daughter of God. Heavenly Father is the father of my spirit. And Jesus is my older brother. He has a personal interest in me, and in each of us. Not only does He love us the way one sibling loves another, but He loves us as our Master, our Savior, our Lord.

Without Christ, none of us would have any chance to be with Him or our Heavenly Father again. No unclean thing can dwell in the Lord's presence, and no one in this life is perfect or without some degree of sin. Even the best people in the world are sinners. None of us are good enough to return to our Father's presence on our own.

The Lord has laws for a reason. There is a certain way we're expected to live. We can't be with our Heavenly Father if we don't abide by His laws. And if there is no punishment for a broken law, the law becomes meaningless. There must be justice.

But there is no one among us who is strong enough to take that punishment on our own. We sin every day, even just in small, seemingly inconsequential ways. All of those sins add up. Over a lifetime, the number of sins we commit - even the most good-hearted, righteous among us - adds up to an insurmountably huge amount. The cost is too much for us to pay alone. We require mercy if we're to have a chance at returning home to our Father.

Justice is necessary. But so is mercy. They seem to be at odds with one another.

That's where the Savior comes in.

Here is a parable that illustrates what I mean:

“Let me tell you a story—a parable.

“There once was a man who wanted something very much. It seemed more important than anything else in his life. In order for him to have his desire, he incurred a great debt.

“He had been warned about going into that much debt, and particularly about his creditor. But it seemed so important for him to do what he wanted to do and to have what he wanted right now. He was sure he could pay for it later.

“So he signed a contract. He would pay it off some time along the way. He didn’t worry too much about it, for the due date seemed such a long time away. He had what he wanted now, and that was what seemed important.

“The creditor was always somewhere in the back of his mind, and he made token payments now and again, thinking somehow that the day of reckoning really would never come.

“But as it always does, the day came, and the contract fell due. The debt had not been fully paid. His creditor appeared and demanded payment in full.

“Only then did he realize that his creditor not only had the power to repossess all that he owned, but the power to cast him into prison as well.

“ ‘I cannot pay you, for I have not the power to do so,’ he confessed.

“ ‘Then,’ said the creditor, ‘we will exercise the contract, take your possessions, and you shall go to prison. You agreed to that. It was your choice. You signed the contract, and now it must be enforced.’

“ ‘Can you not extend the time or forgive the debt?’ the debtor begged. ‘Arrange some way for me to keep what I have and not go to prison. Surely you believe in mercy? Will you not show mercy?’

“The creditor replied, ‘Mercy is always so one-sided. It would serve only you. If I show mercy to you, it will leave me unpaid. It is justice I demand. Do you believe in justice?’

“ ‘I believed in justice when I signed the contract,’ the debtor said. ‘It was on my side then, for I thought it would protect me. I did not need mercy then, nor think I should need it ever. Justice, I thought, would serve both of us equally as well.’

“ ‘It is justice that demands that you pay the contract or suffer the penalty,’ the creditor replied. ‘That is the law. You have agreed to it and that is the way it must be. Mercy cannot rob justice.’

“There they were: One meting out justice, the other pleading for mercy. Neither could prevail except at the expense of the other.

“ ‘If you do not forgive the debt there will be no mercy,’ the debtor pleaded.

“ ‘If I do, there will be no justice,’ was the reply.

“Both laws, it seemed, could not be served. They are two eternal ideals that appear to contradict one another. Is there no way for justice to be fully served, and mercy also?

“There is a way! The law of justice can be fully satisfied and mercy can be fully extended—but it takes someone else. And so it happened this time.

“The debtor had a friend. He came to help. He knew the debtor well. He knew him to be shortsighted. He thought him foolish to have gotten himself into such a predicament. Nevertheless, he wanted to help because he loved him. He stepped between them, faced the creditor, and made this offer.

“ ‘I will pay the debt if you will free the debtor from his contract so that he may keep his possessions and not go to prison.’

“As the creditor was pondering the offer, the mediator added, ‘You demanded justice. Though he cannot pay you, I will do so. You will have been justly dealt with and can ask no more. It would not be just.’

“And so the creditor agreed.

“The mediator turned then to the debtor. ‘If I pay your debt, will you accept me as your creditor?’

“ ‘Oh yes, yes,’ cried the debtor. ‘You save me from prison and show mercy to me.’

“ ‘Then,’ said the benefactor, ‘you will pay the debt to me and I will set the terms. It will not be easy, but it will be possible. I will provide a way. You need not go to prison.’

“And so it was that the creditor was paid in full. He had been justly dealt with. No contract had been broken.

“The debtor, in turn, had been extended mercy. Both laws stood fulfilled. Because there was a mediator, justice had claimed its full share, and mercy was fully satisfied” (in Conference Report, Apr. 1977, pp. 79–80; or Ensign, May 1977, pp. 54–55)

We needed the Savior. He is our mediator. He came down and paid the price for all of our sins. He felt every bit of our pain, our joy, our sorrow, our guilt, our love. And I believe He felt those things for each of us individually. He took the punishment for our sins, so that we don't have to. Through Him, the payment for each of our sins is met, satisfying the demands of justice. And through Him, and His love for us, we are given the gift of mercy. All we have to do to take advantage of His merciful act is to repent of our sins. To be truly penitent, make it right, and try to never do it again.

Repentance is certainly not always easy. Sometimes it may seem almost impossible. But that's not the case. Repentance is possible. It may be painful. It may be difficult. But Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ want us to succeed in repenting. They want us to take advantage of Christ's sacrifice and be washed clean through the His atonement. They will help us, support us, and give us the strength we need to repent.

I'm so incredibly grateful for that. If it weren't for the possibility of repentance, there is no way I could spend eternity with my family. There's no way I could be with my Heavenly Father or Jesus again. There's no way I could be freed from the burden of my sins. I wouldn't be able to really feel peace, or joy. I would be buried under a mountain of my own guilt.

What would even be the point of trying to live a righteous life? No matter how hard I try, without the atonement, there's no way I can make it. So why even bother? What's to prevent me from doing horrible things and becoming a horrible person? Nothing. Without Christ's sacrifice, my life would become meaningless.

But it's not meaningless. My life is beautiful. It's joyful. It's full of light and goodness, because my Savior loves me so much that He stepped in and satisfied the demands of justice on my behalf. He extended me mercy. He did it at great cost to Himself. I can only imagine the agony He must have felt when He suffered not only for me, but for every person who ever has or ever will live.

He was perfect. He didn't have to do it. He was the one person who lived a perfect life. He could get to heaven all on His own. The only reason He did it was because of His love for each of us.

For those who don't feel like they can really relate to what I mean, here's another story that I love.

****

There was a boy by the name of Steve who was attending school in Utah. In this school Seminary classes are held during school hours.  Brother Christianson taught Seminary at this particular school.  He had an open-door policy and would take in any student that had been thrown out of another class as long as they would abide by his rules. Steve had been kicked out of his sixth period and no other teacher wanted him, so he went into Brother Christianson's Seminary class.

Steve was told that he could not be late, so he arrived just seconds before the bell rang and he
would sit in the very back of the room. He would also be the first to leave after the class was over.

One day, Brother Christianson asked Steve to stay after class so he could talk with him.  After class,
Bro. Christianson pulled Steve aside and said, "You think you're pretty tough, don't you?"

Steve's answer was, "Yeah, I do."

Then Brother Christianson asked, "How many push-ups can you do?"

Steve said, "I do about 200 every night."

"200?  That's pretty good, Steve," Brother Christianson said.  "Do you think you could do 300?"

Steve replied, "I don't know...  I've never done 300 at a time."

"Do you think you could?" Again asked Brother Christianson.

"Well, I can try," said Steve.

"Can you do 300 in sets of 10?  I need you to do 300 in sets of ten for this to work.  Can you do
it?  I need you to tell me you can do it," Brother Christianson said.

Steve said, "Well...  I think I can...  yeah, I can do it."

Brother Christianson said, "Good!  I need you to do this on Friday."

Friday came and Steve got to class early and sat in the front of the room. When class started, Brother
Christianson pulled out a big box of donuts. Now these weren't the normal kinds of donuts,
they were the extra fancy BIG kind, with cream centers and frosting swirls.  Everyone was pretty excited-it was Friday, the last class of the day, and they were going to get an early start on the weekend.

Bro. Christianson went to the first girl in the first row and asked, "Cynthia, do you want a donut?"

Cynthia said, "Yes."

Bro. Christianson then turned to Steve and asked, "Steve, would you do ten push-ups so that Cynthia
can have a donut?"

Steve said, "Sure," and jumped down from his desk to do a quick ten. Then Steve again sat in his desk.

Bro. Christianson put a donut on Cynthia's desk.

Bro. Christianson then went to Joe, the next person, and asked, "Joe, do you want a donut?"

Joe said, "Yes."

Bro. Christianson asked, "Steve would you do ten push-ups so Joe can have a donut?"

Steve did ten push-ups, Joe got a donut.

And so it went, down the first aisle, Steve did ten pushups for every person before they got their
donut.

And down the second aisle, till Bro. Christianson came to Scott.

Scott was captain of the football team and center of the basketball team. He was very popular and never lacking for female companionship.  When Bro. Christianson asked, "Scott do you want a donut?"
Scott's reply was, "Well, can I do my own pushups?"

Bro. Christianson said, "No, Steve has to do them."

Then Scott said, "Well, I don't want one then."

Bro. Christianson then turned to Steve and asked, "Steve, would you do ten pushups so Scott can have a donut he doesn't want?"

Steve started to do ten pushups.  Scott said, "HEY! I said I didn't want one!"

Bro. Christianson said, "Look, this is my classroom, my class, my desks, and my donuts.  Just leave it on the desk if you don't want it."  And he put a donut on Scott's desk.

Now by this time, Steve had begun to slow down a little.  He just stayed on the floor between sets
because it took too much effort to be getting up and down.  You could start to see a little
perspiration coming out around his brow.  Bro. Christianson started down the third row.  Now the
students were beginning to get a little angry.

Bro. Christianson asked Jenny, "Jenny, do you want a donut?"

Jenny said, "No."

Then Bro. Christianson asked Steve, "Steve,would you do ten pushups so Jenny can have a donut that she doesn't want?"  Steve did ten, Jenny got a donut.

By now, the students were beginning to say "No" and there were all these uneaten donuts on the desks. Steve was also having to really put forth a lot of effort to get these pushups done for each donut.

There began to be a small pool of sweat on the floor beneath his face, his arms and brow were beginning to get red because of the physical effort involved.

Bro. Christianson asked Robert to watch Steve to make sure he did ten pushups in a set because he couldn't bear to watch all of Steve's work for all of those uneaten donuts.  So Robert began to watch Steve closely. Bro. Christianson started down the fourth row.

During his class, however, some students had wandered in and sat along the heaters along the sides of the room.  When Bro. Christianson realized this; he did a quick count and saw 34 students in the room.  He started to worry if Steve would be able to make it.

Bro. Christianson went on to the next person and the next and the next. Near the end of that row, Steve was really having a rough time.  He was taking a lot more time to complete each set.

Steve asked Bro. Christianson, "Do I have to make my nose touch on each one?"

Bro. Christianson thought for a moment, "Well, they're your pushups. You can do them any way that you want."

And Bro. Christianson went on.

A few moments later, Jason came to the room and was about to come in when all the students yelled, "NO! Don't come in!  Stay out!"

Jason didn't know what was going on.  Steve picked up his head and said, "No, let him come."

Bro. Christianson said, "You realize that if Jason comes in you will have to do ten pushups for him."

Steve said, "Yes, let him come in."

Bro. Christianson said, "Okay, I'll let you get Jason's out of the way right now.  Jason, do you
want a donut?"

"Yes."

"Steve, will you do ten pushups so that Jason can have a donut?" Steve did ten pushups very slowly
and with great effort.  Jason, bewildered, was handed a donut and sat down.

Bro. Christianson finished the fourth row, then started on those seated on the heaters.  Steve's
arms were now shaking with each pushup in a struggle to lift himself against the force of gravity. Sweat was dropping off of his face and, by this time, there was not a dry eye in the room.

The very last two girls in the room were cheerleaders and very popular. Bro. Christianson went to Linda, the second to last, and asked, "Linda, do you want a doughnut?

Linda said, very sadly, "No, thank you."

Bro. Christianson asked Steve, "Steve, would you do ten pushups so that Linda can have a donut she
doesn't want?"

Grunting from the effort, Steve did ten very slow pushups for Linda. Then Bro. Christianson turned to
the last girl, Susan. "Susan, do you want a donut?"

Susan, with tears flowing down her face, asked, "Bro. Christianson , can I help him?"

Bro. Christianson, with tears of his own, said, "No, he has to do it alone, Steve, would you do ten
pushups so Susan can have a donut?"

As Steve very slowly finished his last pushup, with the understanding that he had accomplished all that
was required of him, having done 350 pushups, his arms buckled beneath him and he fell to the floor.

Brother Christianson turned to the room and said. "And so it was, that our Savior, Jesus Christ,
plead to the Father, "Into thy hands I commend my spirit." With the understanding that He had done
everything that was required of Him, he collapsed on the cross and died.

"And like some of those in this room, many of us leave the gift on the desk, uneaten."

****

Please, please, please don't leave your metaphorical donut uneaten. Christ suffered for your sins, whether you take advantage of that sacrifice or not. He did it for you. I plead with you to take advantage of His gift and repent of your sins. Otherwise, His suffering for you was pointless. His sacrifice on your behalf was meaningless. And considering what He went through to extend mercy to you, all because He loves you so much, it just seems wrong to throw His gift away. 

I'm so grateful for my Savior. I love Him so much. I wouldn't be who I am without Him. He is the absolute center of my life. And on this day of Thanksgiving, I am grateful for Him more than anything else.  

If I Tell You I Love You, Can I Keep You Forever?

I had a dream last night that I was with Ben. He was home. It was wonderful.

But there was this sense of dread, like he was shortly going to be leaving again. In my dream, I knew he couldn't stay. The Air Force was sending him away again. Only this time, he wouldn't be coming back. He was going to die.

He knew it. I knew it. So we just spent as much time together as we could while we waited for the end to come.

It was awful. I swear, I have the most gut-wrenching dreams when it comes to Ben.

I think it's because his job takes him away a lot. Even when we're reunited, it's just resetting the clock so we can begin the countdown to another separation.

We're pretty good about enjoying our time together and not dwelling on when he'll have to go away again. But apparently my subconscious likes to focus on the negative.

Stupid subconscious.

And, of course, there's always the concern that he won't come home. As a pilot, he's never been in the thick of battle. He's generally safe. It's really hard to bring down a C-130. And they always live on bases that are very secure - often even in a different, peaceful country.

But things happen. Car accidents, illnesses, brain aneurysms. And, as I've mentioned, my subconscious hates me. So it torments me in my dreams.

The plus side of this is that when I wake up from the kind of dream I had last night, I feel happy. He may be on the other side of the world right now, and I may miss him like crazy, but he's alive and well and (more than likely) coming home eventually.

Take that, subconscious!

I've never loved anyone the way I love my husband.

Before meeting Ben, I never really understood the phrase "better half." I figured it was just a cute way for married couples to refer to each other. I mean, I knew what love was. I loved my parents, my siblings, my friends. I even had a boyfriend or two that inspired thoughts of love. But I didn't think the "better half" thing was literal. I figured people were just being cheesy.

But it's a real, literal thing. When I say "literal," I don't mean that his body is actually the other half of my body. That would be freaky and gross. But I do mean that he completes me. His soul and my soul are completely intertwined. You can't really tell where one begins and the other ends.

And now I'm getting cheesy. But it's true. It's a love like nothing I had ever before experienced in my life.

I think that's why it's so hard to be away from him. There's a gaping hole in my heart, a piece of me that goes with him when he leaves. I can feel it like a dull ache in my chest.

You get used to it after a while. But it's always there. It never really goes away.

The best thing about Ben is that, no matter what happens, I get to keep him forever.

That was the quote we put on our wedding invitations: "If I tell you I love you, can I keep you forever?" It's from a movie that Ben loves and I think is stupid, but the quote pretty much says what we mean.

Because we were married in the temple, we're sealed together for eternity. No "til death do us part!" Our marriage is stronger than the bonds of death. Because we were married in God's house by someone with priesthood authority (direct from God!), when we were sealed together as man and wife here on earth, we were also sealed together in heaven.

It's a doctrinal thing, that might be confusing to those who don't understand our faith. But it's a gift that's available to anyone who wants it. Feel free to ask if you want to know more.

For me, true love means that having a lifetime together isn't enough. This life is so brief. If we really love someone, that love can and should last forever. It doesn't make sense to me that we would entwine our souls so deeply with that of another person, and then BOOM! it's over when one of us dies, like it never existed in the first place.

That's just the saddest idea I've ever heard.

Our love for someone doesn't end when they die. So why should our connection to them end? Why would a loving God design things that way?

He wouldn't. He didn't. He wants us to be with our families forever. We are His family, and He wants to be with us. So why wouldn't He want us to be with our own family units as well?

Anyway, my point is, it gives me some peace of mind to send Ben off to war when I know that we'll be together forever. No matter what happens to us in this life, if we live righteously, we can and will be together in the next. The day will come when we will never have to say goodbye again.

So while I miss him terribly when he's gone, I can take comfort knowing that he will always come back to me.

He loves me. He adores me. He thinks I'm the most perfect woman ever to walk the face of the earth.

That's crazy, of course. But that's love.

My husband is the greatest man I know. Not "great" in the sense of being strong, powerful, mighty, or anything like that. "Great" as in absolute best.

There are the obvious traits, of course, that make him wonderful. He's handsome, smart, talented, loving, strong, witty, charming. Those are the kinds of things that most women look for in a husband.

But more important than that are the quieter traits. The ones that aren't so obvious. The ones that you really notice the more you get to know him.

He's patient. No matter how emotional or neurotic I'm being, he's calm. He never loses his temper or lashes out at me.

He listens. He's very thoughtful about it, too. You can tell he's really trying to understand your point of view when you talk to him. He really wants to know what it is you're trying to express.

Going along with that, he thinks before he talks. He almost never spits out a response without thinking. He's very deliberate. This allows him to express himself more clearly, and prevents him from sticking his foot in his mouth or saying something he doesn't mean. Usually. ;)

He's gentle, both physically and temperamentally. He doesn't try to intimidate anyone physically. He doesn't raise a hand to me or Evie, ever, or even get mad and punch a pillow. But he's very affectionate. He's constantly reaching out to me, holding my hand, touching my back, finding little ways to be in contact with me as much as possible.

He's a wonderful father. He's patient with Evie, and treats her with respect and love. He plays with her, and teaches her little life lessons whenever the opportunity arises. Evie adores him. When he's gone, she misses him almost as much as I do. He also sets an example for her of what a husband and father should be. He treats me like a queen, and isn't afraid to let Evie know how much he loves me. He never says anything bad about me to her, or to anyone else. He's teaching her what kind of man she should look for in a husband when she grows up, purely through his example.

He loves God. He's a worthy priesthood holder. He gives us blessings when we need them. He leads our family in prayer and scripture study. He bears his testimony in dozens of different ways every day. He tries to live a righteous life.

He's always willing to help me out. With anything. If I need help with cooking dinner, taking out the trash, taking the car for an oil change, emptying the dishwasher, bathing the dog, anything, all I have to do is ask him. He'll get up, without hesitation, and do it. He never complains about it or rolls his eyes. He feels that part of his job as a father and husband is to help me with whatever I might need. I take care of most of it, but when I'm feeling tired or overwhelmed or I have my hands full, he's always ready to step in.

He's passionate about me. Ben is not a guy who gets very excited about things. He never shouts for joy, or yells at the TV, or does a happy dance. He rarely even laughs out loud. When I told him we were pregnant with Evie, after 9 months of trying, he just smiled. He's very understated, and moderately introverted.

But when it comes to me, he's expressive. He's complimentary. He's loving, and affectionate, and silly. He tells me things he doesn't share with anyone else. I see his pain, his hopes, his joys, his fears, his soul. He's a completely different person when he's with me. And when he looks at me, I see in his eyes that his heart is mine, forever. He literally doesn't even notice other women. I've observed him, and he's honestly oblivious to all women who aren't me. He has been more real, more himself with me than with anyone else in the world.

I have no idea what I did to deserve such a man. I'm pretty sure that God was trying to show me that He blesses us way beyond what we deserve when He put Ben (and Evie!) in my life.

So no matter how many sad dreams, anxieties or military deployments I face, I can't complain. I am so incredibly blessed. Ben is my heart, my soul, my better half.

And literally the man of my dreams. ;)

Evelyn

As I'm sure you've figured out from past blog posts, my kid is awesome. She's an angel impersonating a human being. And even with her current Jack-O-Lantern smile, she's the cutest thing on earth.

First off, I just want to say that God clearly was blessing us with quality over quantity. We may not have (anywhere near) as many kids as we'd like, but the one we have is the best one there is.

Most people have kids who don't heed their parents' warnings, and have to find out the hard way that touching a hot stove/climbing on the car/putting forks in an electrical socket/using the bookshelf as a ladder is a bad idea.

We have a kid who listens to us, understands the logic behind the warning, and is very cautious about not doing anything too dangerous.

Most people have kids who live by the philosophy "What's yours is mine, what's mine is mine, and whatever I might want is mine."

We have a kid who is (usually) really good about sharing. Not always, but usually.

Most people have kids who believe they are the center of the universe, and everyone around them is merely an extra on the stage.

We have a kid who actually seems to understand empathy. She notices when other people are feeling bad, and goes out of her way to help them or cheer them up.

Most people have kids who refuse to sit still for a picture, or even look in the camera's general direction.

We have a kid who smiles for the camera - a real smile, not the fake, scary ones that most kids do. She actually enjoys having her picture taken, and is very photogenic to boot.

Most people have kids who throw tantrums when they don't get what they want.

We have a kid who says "Please? Please? Please?" a lot, but who takes it without a fuss when the answer is ultimately an unchanging "no." She's not necessarily happy about it, but she doesn't throw tantrums.

Now, I don't mean to say that other people's kids are horrible. Not at all. All of the above things I mentioned in the "most kids" sections are perfectly normal! That's how most kids behave, because that's totally normal child behavior. My point is that my daughter is a freak. A wonderful, weirdly well-behaved freak.

That's not to say that she's perfect. Far from it. She moves really slow in the mornings and often leaves us running late to get to school. She "cleans her room" every day, but it still usually looks like a disaster. She almost always complains about doing her chores (although she's good about getting them done fairly quickly). She can be fairly bossy with other kids, and has a very rigid view of fairness. If something isn't fair, or someone is being "mean," she's quick to tattle. Not my favorite thing.

But all things considered, she's a pretty amazing girl. I'd say quite a bit above average, really.

She has a great sense of humor. She makes me laugh out loud on a regular basis - although not always intentionally.

She's always willing to take on a service project with me and help people in need. She also performs good deeds on her own, helping kids at school.

She's very smart. Ever since I told her she would get a treat for every 100% on a piece of schoolwork, she's been emptying the house of ice cream.

She loves to snuggle with me. This is very important, especially when her dad is deployed. She always makes me feel loved.

She has never once, in her entire life, smeared poop on walls (or any other surface) or hid it in a bucket under her bed (or anywhere else).

She has no problem adapting. She makes friends easily, and she's perfectly fine spending a few days with friends so Ben and I can go out of town. She doesn't get unduly stressed out about that kind of thing. She's very chill!

She knows all sorts of amazing things about animals, and can make a huge variety of fairly-accurate animal noises.

She draws pictures and makes cards for people. She's very creative and artistic with them, too. She made a pop-up apology card for her teacher earlier this year when she was unusually naughty one day. It was very innovative, especially for a six-year-old.

She's a graceful dancer, and has a lot of natural musicality.

She's got a memory like an elephant. Maybe because elephants are her favorite animal? She can watch a movie once, and recognize music from it weeks later. She also can quote all of her favorite lines after the first viewing.

She loves her Heavenly Father and Jesus.

Seriously, best kid ever. There's not a whole lot more to add to that.

I'm so lucky to be her mom!

Mama - and Papa - Mia!

I write about my parents every year since I started this blog. I'm pretty sure I've said so many great things about them that I'll purely be repeating myself today. But my parents are awesome, and they deserve to be told so as often as possible. So I'm going to say it all over again anyway.

Kids, give your parents some credit. Your parents have a reason for doing things the way they do. Your parents have your best interests at heart. Your parents love you more than you'll ever understand, even when you're so frustrated with them that you're sure they're conspiring to bring about your downfall. They're really not. They just want you to grow up to be your best self. They want you to become an intelligent, respectful, hard-working, capable adult.

Granted, this is not true of all parents. There are some real duds out there. And in that case, kids, find an adult to look up to who loves you and genuinely wants to help you get your best chance at life. They're out there. My parents are living proof.

If you have parents like mine, you are in great shape indeed. 

Like most kids, it took until I was an adult for me to really begin to appreciate what my parents did for me. I think it started when I was in college. I knew more than one girl who had no idea how to cook, or clean, or take care of herself (much less anyone else). In one extreme case, the girl got malnourished because she was literally living on gummy bears and Wheat Thins.

No free ride for these kids! Wait...

It was sad. These girls had parents who loved them, but who mistakenly believed that they needed to let their kids "be kids" and "enjoy their childhood," by never requiring them to do chores or fend for themselves in any way. Their parents waited on them hand and foot. So while they were very sweet, very fun girls, they were about as useless as a leaf blower in a tornado when it came to basic survival. They had no idea how to tidy things up, fix a basic meal, or even hold down a job.

I wonder how they handled things when they got married and had kids of their own? 0.o

"Let's learn to shoot our own food!"

The point is, when I reached adulthood, I was able to really understand how much my parents were looking out for me and helping me out throughout my childhood. I had to do chores, not because my parents wanted free slave labor, but so I would know how to take care of my home when I was on my own. I learned how to cook meals and bake goodies, not so my parents could kick back and feast on my labors (which I'm sure, especially at first, were not so delicious), but so I could eat well as an adult. They made sure I learned how to work. They cultivated my talents and skills. They even gave me an allowance to teach me the value of money.

None of those things seemed all that fun at the time (except maybe the allowance). But they gave me the skills I needed so that I could be a responsible adult, and a good wife and mother.

I feel sorry for kids whose parents don't do that for them.

The depth of my understanding about my parents grew even more when I had a child of my own.

As a kid, you love your parents unconditionally. They're your heroes. You can't imagine ever loving anyone more.


Then, when you have a child of your own, you realize that you never understood before how deep love can go.

A child's love for their parents is a drop of water compared to the well of love a parent feels for their child.

The only stronger kinds of love are the love we have for our spouse, and for our God.

And, to be fair, it's really just different kinds of love. I look at it like this: If I saw a car barreling down the street towards my husband, I would probably scream at him to run. I might even run towards him, or try to push him out of the way if for some reason he couldn't move himself. But, for the most part, he can take care of himself. A warning is probably all he would really need. And even though I love him more than anyone on this earth, I figure he can pretty much take care of himself.

Sharks, on the other hand...

A mother's love for her child, though, ties in to her very instincts. It's not just a heart thing, it's in every cell of your body, and hardwired into your brain. If you see a car barreling towards your child, you scream, yes, but you also sprint towards them with every ounce of adrenaline you have and race the car so you can get to them first and push them out of the way.

It's not something you have to stop and think about. You. Just. Run.

I'm not saying this from any kind of personal experience, but I can feel it in every fiber of my being. My love for my husband is deeper, but my love for my child is stronger in a different way. In a protective, mama bear, "you'll have to go through me to get to her" kind of way. My mother once sprinted across an apartment, when she was about 8 or 9 months pregnant, to grab my little brother who was hanging off the edge of a balcony. I doubt she had ever moved that fast before in her whole life, pregnant or not. A mother's love goes so deep, it's instinctive.

I think that's why it must be so hard on parents, especially mothers, when they lose a child. I'm not sure it's something I could ever handle. If Evie died, I would probably collapse in on myself like a black hole. The only thing that would keep me sane is if I had other kids who needed me. If I had to be strong for them, I could do it. But it would still just about destroy me.

So, back to my original point, it's only now that I'm a parent that I can really understand how much my parents love me. I never really knew before. But I get it now.

My dad is one of my heroes. He works so hard, but he always took time to be with his kids, too. I think I'm like him in a lot of ways. He would sometimes bring us home little treats from the grocery store. And he always brought us souvenirs when he had to go out of town.

I can't be away from Evie for more than a couple of days without wanting to bring her a little present. It's how I show her that I missed her.

Dad is also the one who used pet names for us the most, at least to my recollection. He still calls me "sweetie" just as much as he calls me "Cassie." I'm the same way with Evie. I swear I use pet names for her more than I actually use her given name.

My dad is the one I get my singing talent from, too. He never used it as much as I do - I'm kind of a show-off, I guess - but when he does sing, it's beautiful. He's got rich natural tone and such a warm, baritone voice.

And, of course, I look a lot like my dad. I don't have all the really skinny genes his DNA brings to the table, but my eyes are 100% his. And he used to have brown hair like me, back before it all went white.

I blame Joseph for that. ;)

The biggest thing, though, is I think I have a lot of my dad's temperament. He wears his heart on his sleeve. When he's worried, it shows. When he's angry, you know it. When he's happy, he's goofy. And when he's extremely happy or sad, he cries.

I'm the very same way. Only I'm a girl, with crazy hormones, so I probably cry a lot more than he does. But inevitably, if I see my dad crying, I'll start crying too. It just kind of sets me off. I remember, in particular, the daddy-daughter dance at our wedding.

He said something along these lines, "My greatest wish for you was that you would marry a man who loves you as much as I love your mother. And I think you found him." And he cried. And I started crying, too.

For the record, he's right. My parents have a love that will last forever. My dad adores my mom. You can see the love in his eyes every time he looks at her. And she feels the same way about him.

That's exactly what I found in Ben. Overwhelming, passionate, mutual adoration. I give a lot of the credit to my parents, for setting such a great example of what a marriage should be.

My dad is all kinds of wonderful. And I love him so much. :)

My mom is one of my best friends in the entire world. Where I'm a lot like my dad, I think I married a man who's a lot like my mom in his temperament.

Is that weird?

My mom has always been the steady, calm one. She's great at thinking before she speaks. She's fun and quirky and funny, but she also has a quieter, more introverted side. She's patient, and kind, and loving. She always puts her family first.

Personally, I think those are great qualities. That's probably why I married a man who's got most of those same traits. I certainly didn't have a lot of them, so it was important for me to find someone who did.

See? Not weird.

Don't get me wrong, my mom is not always mellow, and she's never boring. She's funny, and always makes me laugh. She's willing to let out her goofy side, especially when hanging out with her family. She dances in the kitchen, kisses her husband in front of her kids and grandkids, and she's a theater geek, like me. She's the one who gave me such a strong love for musical theater, and performing onstage.

My mom was the one who was always playing soundtracks from musicals and quoting movies. My dad was always on board, and usually has a few good movie quotes up his sleeve, too, but the bulk of the enthusiasm came from my mom.

Most importantly, my mom set the example for me on how to be a great mother. There are so many times during each day that I find myself reacting to Evie the way my mom would have reacted to me. Or I'll find myself thinking "what would my mom do?" when facing a particularly tricky situation with my own daughter.

Nobody is perfect, I know that. But I figure my mom is about as close to perfect as a human can get, especially as a mother. If everyone in the world had a mother like mine, we would have world peace, without a doubt. I figure the best thing I can do for my own child is to try to emulate my mother as much as possible.

My parents deserve every bit of praise and thanks I can heap on them. I probably don't say it often enough, but my parents are the best parents in the world. I'm so grateful for them, and I feel so blessed to be their daughter.

Mom and Dad, sorry I didn't recognize your sheer awesomeness when I was a kid. I know better now. :)

We. Are. Faaaaaamily!

There are way too many people today who are rude, hypersensitive, obnoxious, lazy, narcissistic, entitled, and completely self-absorbed. I don't know who raised these people, but I feel like some parents definitely were dropping the ball. And, of course, these people are going to raise kids who are basically just like them, and the cycle will continue.

The world needs stronger families. If every family was loving, and kind, and tried to do what was right, the world would be a better place. By leaps and bounds.

Basically, what I'm getting at is this: If every family were just like mine, the world would be awesome.

Because my family is awesome.

I don't mean Ben and Evie, although I'm hopeful that Ben and I will be able to raise awesome kids, too. And yes, Ben and Evie are already all kinds of awesome. But I'm referring to the family in which I was raised.

I'll get into more details about my ridiculously super-amazing fantabulous parents tomorrow. Today, I want to tell you about my siblings.

They're awesome.

I suppose I could leave it at that, but I won't.

I'm the oldest child in my family. But I have three younger brothers and a younger sister. I'm freakishly close with them, especially the three just under me in age. The youngest took his sweet time and didn't make his entrance into the world until I was graduating from high school, so I didn't get to know him as well as the others. But we're making progress.

I'll go oldest to youngest, I suppose.

First up, at about two and a half years younger than me, is Andrew.

Andrew started life as a quiet, fairly nerdy kid. He was pretty scrawny, had crazy teeth, and sounded perpetually congested (thanks to, I'm guessing, a severely deviated septum). He was so cute, though. He had big blue eyes, and dimples that could stop a grown woman in her tracks and make her want to pinch his little cheeks.

He got picked on sometimes, but I remember a time when I full-on yelled at a kid who was being mean to him on the bus. I'm not usually very confrontational, especially with strangers, but there was no way anyone was allowed to pick on my little brother but me!!!

That's really one of the only times in my life I remember actually screaming insults at someone I didn't know. Somehow, it's easier to let stuff roll off your back when it's aimed at you. When it's aimed at someone you love, the tiger comes out. And, as the oldest kid, I definitely had a tiger inside of me.

As Andrew grew up, and we spent more time playing together (the floor is lava and all that kind of thing), I realized that he's hilarious. To this day, he leaves me laughing so hard that I end up having to run to the bathroom or risk wetting myself.

I think the first time I realized how funny he is was when we had just moved to London. I was about 12, so he was around 9 years old. I have no idea what we were talking about, all I know is that he said something that had me spitting water across the table from the unexpected laughter. And it didn't stop there. After that initial spit-take, things escalated quickly. And it hasn't really stopped in the 20 years since then.

Aside from being funny, though, he's also very intelligent and talented. He's a great cartoonist, and has been the artist behind some of my favorite gifts I've ever received. He speaks fluent Russian, and has an understanding of logic and math that goes way beyond anything I'm capable of. He can sing and act, too, and as he has often said, his hips don't lie.

My favorite Christmas present, ever!

Did I mention that he's handsome? He really is. Gone is the scrawny kid with the crazy teeth. Andrew is the tallest in the family, his teeth are nice and straight, and he still has the big blue eyes and killer dimples.

Welcome to the gun show, ladies

The thing about Andrew, though, is that he has no idea how handsome he is. He's so humble and self-deprecating most of the time, that I'd bet he doesn't even realize when girls think he's cute. Unless they're really over-the-top obvious about it, and most of the girls like that be crazy.

I know Andrew will say that I'm just biased, but I'm also very smart. And I have eyeballs. And I know him better than most people, so I know that he's awesome and doesn't give himself enough credit. He's amazing, and hopefully someday he'll realize that and become unstoppable!!!


Did I mention that he's coming here for Christmas? He found out that Evie and I were going to be alone for Christmas, since Ben is deployed. So he decided not to go to the beautiful, warm, foreign country where my parents live, and instead, is coming here to be with us. He's very sweet and thoughtful. And he's personally my hero, as I was dreading our lonely Christmas. He saved Christmas!!!

He's seriously one of the best guys in the universe. :)

I feel like there's so much more I could say, but I don't know how to put his epicness into words. So I guess I'll just leave it at that. He's awesome. I'm lucky to be his (little) big sister.

See? Epic.

After bumper-boating

Next in line is my only sister, Alyssa. She's only about a year and a half younger than Andrew, and looks enough like him that, when they were little, people sometimes thought they were twins.

She doesn't have the dimples, and her teeth were always much straighter, but the two of them definitely looked a lot alike as kids.

Alyssa is the sweet one in the family. The rest of us are more loud and obnoxious. It drove her crazy when we were little. We were all constantly teasing each other, and while it didn't bother me or the boys, Alyssa didn't like it. That, of course, made us tease her even more.

Poor Lu. But when she got older, she started giving as good as she got. I remember the first time I threw a quip out at her, not even really thinking about it, and she threw one right back at me. I was so proud! I don't remember what we said, but I remember grinning at her and thinking, "Good for you!" Especially because whatever it was she'd said in response was hilarious. Which is usually the point of the teasing.

Now, funny enough, she probably fits in with the boys even better than I ever did. She loves football, and considers herself a bit of a tomboy. Although she's also tall and thin and beautiful, which just means that her "tomboy-ness" makes here even more attractive. Just ask her husband, Lewis. Pretty sure he worships the ground she walks on.

Lyssa is still one of the sweetest people in the world, though. She's always had this amazing gift for empathy. I've gotten fairly good at empathy over time, but it's something I had to learn. Lu was born with it. She was one of those kids who could walk up to someone on the playground and instantly make friends with them.

Evie is a lot like her in that regard, actually. It's funny. Evie may look like me, but she's a lot like Lyssa, too. They're both naturally very sweet and empathetic. Evie is more sensitive than I was as a kid, too - more like Lyssa. They both make friends easily. They're both always willing to help someone in need. They both love the color orange. They even have the same birthday! Evie was born on Lu's 20th birthday, so they're exactly 20 years apart. Because of that, now I'll always remember exactly how old my sister is. ;)

I'm waiting for Lyssa to have a daughter who's goofy and musical and a bit overdramatic, like me. It's only fair.

My sister, just like the rest of my amazing family, is also very smart. She's got her degree in Elementary Education. Now she's got two beautiful kids, so she's not teaching full-time, but she does tutor kids. And I'm guessing she wants to return to teaching once her kids are in school.

Teaching is a perfect fit for her. She's pretty much everything I would want in my kid's teacher.

Lyssa is also like my brother - brothers, actually - in the regard that she doesn't realize how awesome she is. I suppose the fact that my family members are all so humble is a good thing. None of them really know that they're amazing. Not to the extent that I see. But they really are.

Lu has two adorable munchkins, and while I don't get to see them that often, I try to win them over a little bit every time I'm around. Eventually I will win their hearts! Seriously, though, they're too stinkin' cute. I would give all the credit to Lyssa, but I suppose that her cute husband, Lewis, helped a little. ;) Lewis is a good guy. And clearly, very smart, because he realized what a catch my sister is.

She's my favorite sister. ;)

Daniel is the most like me out of all my siblings. I'm not sure why, other than the fact that we look alike, but I've always felt the deepest connection with him. I figure that must mean we're similar somehow.

On the outside, he's clearly got the edge. He's always been the most athletic, the most popular, the most handsome. Where the rest of us got teased in school, Daniel was admired. I think that it may be because he knew how to handle it better than the rest of us.

Daniel doesn't let any embarrassment show. Even when he is feeling embarrassed, he plays it off. He laughs, or counters with goofiness. I think that might be part of why he's my mom's favorite. ;) Just kidding, my mom would never admit who her favorite is. But I do know that she loved how, in high school, he would see her in the halls and yell, "Mommy!" and give her a big hug. The rest of us would have been too embarrassed to do something like that, but Daniel just owned it. I think that's why so many of his peers admired him. If a person doesn't get embarrassed, you have no power over them - at least in high school. It makes you immune. It's like a superpower.

Granted, I was already out of the house by the time Daniel was in high school, so a lot of this is just what I've learned through what people have told me, but it certainly sounds like the Daniel I know and love.

The funny thing about Daniel is, while he's handsome, smart, funny, and all kinds of amazing, he doesn't get it. He laughs and jokes about how awesome he is, but I know him well enough to know that he's got all kinds of insecurities of his own.

It breaks my heart a little. He can get so down on himself. He's definitely his own worst critic. He tends to internalize whatever problems he's having, and hold on to guilt when things go wrong. He gets into his own head, and into his own way. His self-esteem is nowhere near as high as it should be.

And it should be high. I'm not saying he should be genuinely cocky, but he should feel great about himself and who he is. Because he's freaking amazing.

This is a guy who babysat Evie for a whole week when she was a toddler, just so Ben and I could go on a trip for our anniversary.

From one of said road trips

This is a guy who, more than once, has flown out to wherever I'm living just so he can turn around and help me drive right back to where he came from, so I can visit the family.

This is a guy who is always willing to jump in and babysit for me or my sister, and who won't accept any payment for it.

This is a man who is fiercely loyal to the people he loves. He stands up for what's right. He fights for people who can't defend themselves.

This is a man who would jump on a bomb or dive in front of a moving car to save someone's life. (Granted, I think any of my siblings would do that. But still. I know Daniel definitely would.)

This is a man who has a huge heart, and an amazing capacity to do good. He's selfless, and loyal, and always willing to serve. He's definitely one of God's chosen warriors. And I can only assume that that's why Satan tries so hard to keep him down. Because if Daniel really understood who he is and what he's capable of, he would be unstoppable. He's a white knight, a warrior of righteousness. He just doesn't realize it.

I wish Daniel could see himself the way the rest of us see him. The way I see him. The way God sees him.

He's incredible.

My brothers are both weird and wonderful.

I love him so much.

Joseph is the youngest, by a lot. He's about ten years younger than Daniel, so he's basically been an only child for the past several years.

I don't know Joseph as well as I know the others, since I wasn't there when he was growing up. But from what I've seen, he's every bit as special as the others.

Joseph is Evie's favorite uncle - although she's crazy about all three of them. Mostly because he's still young enough that he'll play with her, and play the kinds of games she likes. He taught her how to play Legend of Zelda on the DS, and all about Pokemon. He even showed her the Pokemon that (more or less) shares her name. Evie loved that.

This last summer, Joseph was finally old enough to start babysitting Evie. It was such a nice break for me! And he was always such a good sport about it. And, of course, Evie loved it. He's so much more fun than boring ol' Mom and Dad.

Joseph takes after Lyssa a lot, too. He's got more of her sweet temperament, and looks more like her and Andrew than like me or Daniel. He even sneezes in the sun like Lyssa does.

He's still learning how to be quick with the comebacks, but he's a really good sport about all the teasing his big brothers load on him. They like to invent games like "Kick Him When He's Down," where they kick Joseph every time he's on the ground. They're just teasing him, of course, and he's really good about playing along and taking it all in stride. Sometimes they forget that they're so much bigger than him and take it a bit too far, but Joseph is quick to forgive. I'm pretty sure he knows that they do it out of love. And because he's still littler than them. They need to get their fun in now before he gets to be bigger than they are.

This just says so much about my family...

Joseph is already growing like a weed. According to my mom, he finally passed her in height, which means he's officially taller than me now, too. I'm an inch shorter than my mom, so that makes me officially the shortest in the family, now that Joseph has passed me up. My brothers better watch out. Joseph is growing. And eventually he might even put on enough muscle to be able to fight back.

Of course, I assume that's when they'll put all of their focus on Evie, and Lu's kids, Jack and Poppy.

And so it begins...

Joseph is a great artist. He's very creative, and likes to invent his own Pokemon. He's pretty good at it, too. In that regard he's a lot like Andrew. I don't know that Andrew ever got into Pokemon much, but they're both definitely very artistic.

Since Joseph is still young, he's still trying to find his place in the world. He's at that awkward phase where you're not a kid, but not yet an adult. It's not an easy time of life. But he's doing his best. He's never petty or mean the way some kids are at that age. He's always very sweet and considerate. When they move back to the States next year and he starts high school, I think his personality coupled with his experiences living all over the world will give him a great edge. He'll be able to take on anything that life - and high school - throw at him.

Joseph is already growing up to be an amazing young man. If he can keep moving forward on the path he's on, he'll be such an incredible force for good in the world. He'll be able to make such a difference. Already he's made a difference in my life. He's one of the best kids in the world. I'm excited to keep getting to know him more and more, not just as a brother, but as a friend.

So there you have it. Those are the unbelievably wonderful people that I call my siblings. I'm pretty sure mom and dad were blessed with quantity and quality when it came to their kids.

I've lived all over the world, and I've known very few people who are as strong, and good, and selfless, and wonderful as my siblings. I'm so blessed to be part of their family; to be their big sister. I don't know that any of them really look up to me, but I look up to every single one of them. They've all taught me how to be a better person.

I love you guys, and I'm grateful for each and every one of you. :)