Fair vs. Not Fair

Sitting here...attempting to work on my gospel doctrine lesson. It is amazing that I always have 3 weeks to prepare and still end up doing it Friday or Saturday. I am usually thinking about it for all of 3 weeks, but just have to sit down and focus to "finish" it. It's the "focus" part that I usually get stuck on...no big surprise there...

I am not at my house tonight...watching a good friend's children today and tomorrow. Adorable blonde-haired, blue-eyed little wonders...almost 3 and 5...tonight included several rounds of "Don't Break the Ice," dinner, a t-ball game where big brother did fantastic and I learned that little brother is pretty impressive at throwing and catching a ball. Then bath time...snuggle time, stories and songs. I always hope they won't ask for singing because their mom has an amazing voice...and...well...mine is...just pretty average. But when they DID ask for songs tonight, I thought maybe if I mixed it up and sang in Spanish, that would present enough of a distraction...kind of worked. The youngest is especially intrigued with Spanish and as I sing, I laugh and imagine this fair-skinned, blue-eyed, chubby-cheeked cherub playing amid a big group of brown-skinned, dark haired, Spanish speaking kids his age...and the image always makes me smile. Love these boys, love how they talk, how they laugh...how the youngest says "Guess what, Julie?" to begin most every sentence and the oldest is so dang smart and always crumples his eyebrows together and tilts his head slightly right before he asks big questions. When I am with these kids (and many of the children in my life...clients, nieces and nephews, children of my friends)...I am usually thinking "I don't think I could love them any more, even if they were my own... Just adore them.

Which leads to me (in a long way) to my point...as I am spending time with these adorable boys and just eating them up...my brain and heart are kind of tangled up in some news I got earlier this week that I can't seem to figure out.

A sister from my mission passed away. At 32. She and I did not serve as companions, but I knew, loved and admired her. She was always positive, always kind, so easy to love. An excellent missionary and just an incredibly genuine person. And as I read comments so many have made on her facebook page and on her family blog in the last week...I keep thinking... "No, no, no, no no...32 year old mothers do not die." Especially when they have adorable children...ages 2, 4 and 6 who are captured in a "messy-hair, ginormous smile christmas morning picture" that hurts me to see-those faces...so innocent. Especially when the darling, gentle, soft and fun mom has a happy family and a great relationship with her husband...and a baby growing in her womb. No, no, no, no, no.

I have not met her husband or her children but I keep seeing the faces of clients I have had over the years who have lost parents or siblings...their grief...how hard/sacred/amazing that work is...with these gentle kids who ask questions such as "Well, I just don't get why Jesus got resurrected but my dad didn't. That isn't fair." And all I could say to the 6-year old that day was "You're right, it isn't fair at all right now."

It isn't fair that this sweet 32-year old mother's little 4-year old girl has already stated her concern that dad won't be able to do her hair like mom does it. And he won't. But what chokes me up is knowing that he will really try.

Life. Isn't. Fair.

It's not fair that some mothers who adore their children and the sacred role of motherhood die way too soon and others who find their children to be just a burden...live forever. It isn't fair that teenage girls get pregnant accidentally when grown women and their husbands ache over years of infertility. It isn't fair that there are kids in foster care who did nothing to deserve that kind of childhood. It isn't fair that my brain is full of details and stories from lives of my clients (from "tiny, tiny barely 3-years old and still in diapers" clients...to adults who have lived through some pretty amazing and difficult stuff)...details that I cannot share because I don't want them rattling around in anyone else's brain. It isn't fair that Ken, the man who has lived on the street corner near the agency I worked at for 3 years, is homeless. It isn't fair that I have wanted to be a mom since I was 3 and almost 30 years later...have not yet had that privilege. It isn't fair that my dear friend is on her 11th round of chemo and still has more to go. (Although, in some ways, it is very fair...that she is fighting this and that while still there is still a ways to go...things appear to really be heading in the right direction...so grateful for this).

But...it also isn't "fair" that I have a large group of amazing friends and family to whom I am very connected. It isn't "fair" that I get paid to do a job that I would (most days) do for free because of how much I love the work...when others have been unemployed for months or years. It isn't fair that I have the gospel of Jesus Christ that gives my life such purpose and direction when others all over the world are struggling to find answers to questions that don't bother me. Many friends of mine have expressed that it isn't fair that I could take a long, un-interrupted nap on the weekend. And to them I say "Yes, but it isn't fair that you get to wake up to bed-head snuggly toddlers whose lives and hearts revolve around you..."

So...I hope that "fair" comes to the family and children of my sweet friend who passed away this week...I hope that as they grieve the losses of their mom/wife/daughter/sister as well as their tiny baby sister/daughter/grand-daughter/niece, they are comforted beyond what is "fair." I hope math is easy for all three of those kids and that the 4-year old little girl has hair that is never tangly. I hope family and friends living near them do not stop offering support after the first 6 months and that many "moms" help to raise those kids.

And maybe, I hope that I can keep remembering that there really is no such thing as "fair." Life is full of experiences, blessings and trials. And as one of my close friends always says "life is a long time..." I know that fair isn't something we experience in this life. "Fair"...however, is what comes in the next....when everything is unraveled and we are able to understand the things that never made sense down here...and we are blessed with more than we deserve....all of us.

To get to the other side...

Actual photo of Speedy* (*not his actual name)

This morning I was about (or exactly) 2.85 miles into my run when I came across a surprising sight. There in the gutter was a turtle...and this turtle appeared to be attempting to cross the road. Problem was...it a was a busy road. Little guy would stick his head out slowly, and wait...and after a few cars would pass and there was a lull in the traffic, he'd start to stick his legs out...and just as his toes (turtles do have them-I'm pretty sure) would touch the ground, a car would come whipping by and he'd pull all appendages back inside. And then it would all start over.

I watched for the first few minutes intrigued. Then I watched for the next few minutes because I was grateful to be stopped running...and my heart rate was returning to normal and I wondered if I cared about the turtle or just wanted an excuse to be done running... and for the next 2 minutes I was angry at the turtle for wanting to go THAT way because he had 3 other directions to walk in that would not most likely cause his tragic death. It was a narrow road, and as cars came by, several almost clipped him...especially the time his head was all the way out.

By now, my run is pretty much over and my attention has now shifted to thoughts on the peril of this little guy and wondering what my rights and responsibilities are to this tiny reckless reptile. (I was only in cub scouts for a few months, so we didn't get to that chapter in the book that spells out first aid for turtles, but I bet it's in there). I wanted to talk him into going the other way, but then I thought "maybe turtles are like horses or dogs...or other animals that know where they live..." "and what if some 6-yr old kid is crying that his beloved "speedy" has been missing for 8 days...and his mom isn't sure how to tell him Speedy's probably...well, not coming home... and is considering taking him to the pet store after school today to get a new one but maybe not because turtles really are so stinky" (yes, that IS how my brain works...welcome to the Inner Workings).

ANYWAY...as I'm watching Speedy...he gets a crazy streak of Brave and sticks out head and arms/legs (are they all legs? even the front ones? again, thanks for nothing Webelos...) in one bold move and moves about a quarter of an inch closer towards the other side of the road...and is not mostly out of the gutter and in the street. At this precise moment, a car that was definitely speeding came by and if Turtle would have been one second slower, I'd have witnessed a terrible turtle decapitation before my very eyes. It was at the moment I decided to take action, and since Speedy was now (luckily) safely inside his shell, I picked him up and walked him over the other side of the road...set him near the bushes on the safe side of the sidewalk. He was nice and didn't scratch or bite me or whatever turtles might be capable of doing to well-meaning but invited movers...and I set him down and told him to be free...and to "go THAT WAY, dummy!!!"

He stayed in his shell and I waited for a while watching him... until I realized I really needed to get going...but hoped he would make better transportation choices in the future. Like...mostly, not running away from home. We had a little heart-to-heart...and I went home.

About 1.4 minutes after arriving home, I decided to go back to take his picture. When I got back, I couldn't find him for a minute and thought, "If I just got outrun by a &%$^ turtle, I'm gonna kill myself." Relax reader, no turtle or human will die today...he was there all along. I snapped a few pictures...and you will see that for a turtle who just got his life saved, he sure doesn't look very grateful... And I especially enjoyed that after two photos, he suddenly popped out of his shell and started sprinting (in turtle time) away from me...like he was gonna "make a run for it," as if I was gonna hurt him after all that. For the love, turtle. You need therapy.

See, not very friendly, right?!

Anyway. I don't know what happened to turtle. I'm pretending he's at home happily eating...lettuce and resting in safe cage with 6-yr old Billy's face glued to the glass. I'm prolly not gonna drive on that street for a while for fear that he maybe got crazy and walked back out the other way...and...well, you know.

But I did think about him all day...and (cue the music where the moral of the story comes in...you know the kind)...I was thinking that we are a lot like turtles. (Well, when it comes to running, some of us are even MORE like turtles than others). Sometimes we have a plan of where we think we need to go...and sometimes...it's a pretty terrible and dangerous idea...but we can't see that because we lack perspective. But...Heavenly Father...he doesn't. He gets it...and sees when we're about to make a choice that could figuratively flatten us. Sometimes he snatches us...and takes us to safety or has others down here do it for Him. And sometimes, even after He has saved us...we try to "make a run for it" to get away from Him, thinking He is the danger...or the enemy. We book it away and he probably smiles at our "turtle sprinting" and is thinking "I can see you no matter how fast or far you run, so when you're tired of running, I'll still be here..." So. Now. Bless Speedy for providing a story for Sunday's gospel doctrine lesson and a post topic for me for today. And I guess for providing a reminder that I was probably needing...

Beat It...

Sometimes when people haven't blogged for a long time, they start off with "I'm sorry I haven't written for so long." I've done it in the past, but honestly, I resolve to not say that anymore because this is MY blog after all, and I'm the boss of it. So if you're offended...you can go peruse the blogs of other more faithful bloggers...It's 2011 and I'm taking charge. Or something.

But...you're online reading blogs right now...so you're probably either NOT busy or avoiding things you really NEED to do. Which makes me feel okay about what I'm about to write.

First. I grew up in a musical home. Well, let me rephrase that. I begged to take piano lessons, and then begged harder to stop taking them. I took voice lessons for a while and liked them for the most part but there were....complications which I shall not here explain. My mom had a very cool player that rotated and played about 300 CDs...and it was on most all the time (as I remember). I loved music from age 3 when I got my first fisher-price record player that played 4 primary-colored plastic "records." And I had one heckuva dance routine for Neil Diamond's "Heartlight" song not to mention my smooth moves for "Footloose." I was ahead of my time...sigh.

My friend Anita tells me when I sing to her every time she says a word that triggers a song (which is about 39 times a day, on average): "Julesy, the music is in you." And I smile and agree.

But today when I was running and singing along, I heard myself sing "shorty hot pocket...da da da da...it doesn't matter who's wrong or right" and then start to question the veracity (and possibility) of those lyrics. So I came home and googled the lyrics to "Beat It," by our dear Michael. Turns out...he's actually saying "showin' how funky strong is your fight, it doesn't matter who's wrong or right." I was close. Sorry Michael. (But seriously...showin' how funky strong is your fight??!?!" Really? That's not much more impressive than Shorty Hot Pocket, just sayin'...).

This isn't the first time the lyrics I sing are devastatingly different than what the artist intended. Like for instance:

"I've been through the desert on a horse with no MANE," is really "horse with no name," but honestly, both versions are just weird. (Imagine me as a 7-yr old wondering what I'd hold onto if there were no mane...because of course...a saddle and reigns were out of the question...in keeping true to the spirit of freedom the song portrays...).

And...

"she ain't heaven...she's my mother..." turns out to be "he ain't heavy, he's my brother." (Took a LOT of ridicule when my mom and the lady for whom I was baby-sitting that day (my dear Jan...still love you and if you still read this, I want your email address) tag-teamed teased me on that one). You both should be ashamed, I was just a kid. ;)

So...have spent much of today laughing about "shorty hot pocket." I am awesome. It's a fun time in my brain. Anita is right, the music is in me. Unfortunately, sometimes the lyrics are not...

Grateful for...Amazing Grace

This is one of my all-time favorite songs...

and hearing from a 7-year old...

kind of...amazing.

Grateful for...Emily

I stole this picture from Kim's blog...this is my darling niece Emily. I can't get enough of this cute picture and the fact that almost every picture I have of her looks like this...darling smile with one eye shut because it's....just...too...bright. Darling girl.

Trying...

Way too bright...

Aunt Jules gets smart...

Grateful for...Friends and Stuff

so. the thing is, sometimes life is just so good. a miracle didn't happen, i didn't win a bajillion dollars, i don't have a new boyfriend, i still do not run 7-minute miles, and i'm not yet at my goal weight...and my hair still sometimes decides to be curly when i've declared it a NOT curly day.


BUT...i do have amazing friends. like "too good to be true" friends. some i see often, some i see very rarely, but i am just lucky. i have friends who think deeply and laugh with me about "reeeee-diculous" happenings and friends whose darling babies call me "jew-ee blayo" or wink at me from their booster seats. (are you KIDDING ME...that was for sure a highlight of the year...darling blond big brother responding with a silent and oh-so-adorable wink and half-smile instead of a hello when i got in the car and said hi to him!). friends who live in utah and have darling children who sing "happy birthday dear jules" at everyone else's birthday party for months after jules' birthday passes.

i have a little sister whose cats "text" me on a regular basis and crack me up with their humor which is remarkably similar to that of their owner/mother, i have big sisters who teach me about hair, jewelry, shopping, boys and the importance of being grateful for the opportunity in my life at present to sleep (and go to the bathroom/read/shower/do anything without interruption from darling children) as much as i want. i have old friends that are so easy to be with and talk to, and new friends that i can't get enough of.

i have a job i really love. i live 2 blocks from sprouts where they sell the best apples (and produce in general) in the world. i own a bike and a car. i get to hike most every saturday all winter long. i have lunch every workday with a co-worker and friend that i adore...who keeps me sane, makes me laugh and is such an incredible sounding board for things both clinical and personal. i have 9 adorable nieces and nephews, including brand-new baby twin nephews and another new nephew...all of whom i'll get to meet in just a few weeks. i am friends with nutella. i have almost mastered consistency in tricking my dying toaster into actually toasting (not CHARRING) my bread...setting 2 and 3/4ths). my webelos are all on track, the church is still true, i survived teaching my isaiah lessons and i am sleeping in flannel sheets. life is good.

Grateful for...flannel sheets.

I am absolutely certain that flannel is the official textile of heaven. My mom teases me for sleeping in flannel sheets when I'm wearing flannel pants...she says "Do you get stuck in there?!?! It's like the old flannel boards for FHE from forever ago." It's a tricky thing...living in Arizona when I have such an affinity for flannel. But, dear reader, do not fret, I have figured out how to manage at least 6 months of flannel time here... AND the good news is that Utah for me is flannel YEAR-ROUND...especially because my parent's basement is about as cold as a cave...in Antarctica...which makes for great sleeping...cold, cold room...flannel sheets and tons of blankets... Best. Thing. Ever.