Yearly Archives: 2012

It’s Christmastime. And the Maurer family sings.

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Christmas is in full swing ’round these parts. As is tradition, we trekked to a tree farm and chopped down our Christmas tree the day after Thanksgiving. That night we played Elf on repeat (I say this ever year, but seriously how is that movie so funny every. single. time?!) until we were finished decking our halls.

Apparently we’re real pros because it only took us one and a half showings of Buddy’s adventures in a magical place called New York City. Our first year decorating in this house, I think we watched it six or ten times before we were finished.

Our tree is darling as usual, and I love to sit on the couch at night and just look at her sparkle. Speaking of sparkle, I’m going to a dinner party tomorrow night at the fanciest hotel in Salt Lake City and I bought a pair of glittery gold spike heels to wear to it. I might be more excited about those shoes than anything else currently in my life. I’m not sure if that means my life is lacking or if the shoes are abnormally awesome. (Of course it’s the latter, duh.)

Christmas music is playing non-stop in my car and at home. I’m strict about my no-Christmas-music-before-Thanksgiving policy and this year was no different. But I feel like every year the holidays come sooner and end faster. (I know everyone says that.) And so now that I can listen to Christmas music, it’s all I want. I just don’t want to wake up one morning and have it suddenly be January (which is actually how most months creep up on me). I’ve been working on a list of things to do and see too, to help that effort. Let me know if you have any good ideas.

Speaking of Christmas music, I was working on my computer tonight, editing some photos with my holiday playlist on shuffle, when all of a sudden a blast from the past came pouring through the speakers.

Long ago, when I was still in college and even before my mission (so we’re talking 15-ish years ago), my family recorded a few of our favorite songs we love to sing together. It was nothing professional, just us standing in the sanctuary of a Catholic church with a microphone and a friend at the piano, but it was so fun to listen to. I hadn’t heard it in ages. I particularly loved listening to the tiny voice of my baby sister, who was somewhere in her elementary school years when we recorded it.

The song, “Sleep Little Lamb,” is one of my favorite Christmas “carols.” It’s a little fast for my preference in this recording, but I wasn’t in charge of that operation ;) so …

Anyway, I thought you might like to hear it too. Click Here to Listen. May the start of your Christmas season be as happy and sparkly as mine has been. xo

 

My Word of Wisdom Experiment: Part 5 [The Promises]

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Welcome back friends. I apologize for my delay in posting the final installment of this series. Up to now, we’ve discussed the spiritual and eternal importance of the human body. We’ve discussed what the Word of Wisdom is and why it was given. We’ve discussed the prohibitions in the Word of Wisdom. And we’ve discussed the prescriptions. If you haven’t already, I invite you to read those previous posts (1, 2, 3, 4) first in order to provide a better frame of reference for today’s discussion: The Promises.

The final verses of the Word of Wisdom state:

Doctrine & Covenants 89: 18-21

18 And all saints who remember to keep and do these sayings, walking in obedience to the commandments, shall receive health in their navel and marrow to their bones;

19 And shall find wisdom and great treasures of knowledge, even hidden treasures;

20 And shall run and not be weary, and shall walk and not faint.

21 And I, the Lord, give unto them a promise, that the destroying angel shall pass by them, as the children of Israel, and not slay them. Amen.

There are six promises identified in these four verses. They are that everyone who remembers to keep, and do, the Word of Wisdom SHALL (that’s a definitive) receive:

  1. Health in their navel
  2. Marrow to their bones
  3. Find wisdom and great treasures of knowledge (even hidden treasures)
  4. Run and not be weary
  5. Walk and not faint
  6. The destroying angel shall pass by and not slay them

But let’s take it verse by verse because people, these promises are amazing—more incredible that I ever realized.

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My Word of Wisdom Experiment: Part 4 [The Prescriptions]

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Welcome back, all. I hope you had a wonderful weekend. I’ve been thinking non-stop about this series and am excited to dive in to today’s segment.

If you’re just joining us, I invite you read the previous segments (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3) first as each post builds upon information presented in the last. To this point, we’ve discussed the important role the body plays in our eternal progression, the history and basis of the Word of Wisdom, and the three things it prohibits. Today I’ll be presenting the four measures the law prescribes. I invite you to study along in the Doctrine & Covenants, section 89.

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My Word of Wisdom Experiment: Part 3 [The Prohibitions]

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I hope you’ll excuse the slight break in installments. There was a two-year-old in Arizona who needed my help with her Halloween costume and seeing as I am completely wrapped around her finger, nothing could come between me and that pink felt. (How I love being an Auntie.)

If you’re just joining the discussion, I would suggest going back and reading Parts 1 and 2 first, as each segment builds upon the information presented in the last. And now for Part 3 …

As we have discussed the essential and holy nature of the physical body and the need for guidance in how to care for it, as well as the history of the revelation, the question then becomes: So what is the law? What are the instructions?

The Word of Wisdom contains three prohibitions and four prescriptions. Again, I will be presenting the notes from my study of these guidelines and I invite you to follow along in Doctrine & Covenants section 89 as I dissect each verse.

Doctrine & Covenants 89: 5-7

5 That inasmuch as any man drinketh wine or strong drink among you, behold it is not good, neither meet in the sight of your Father, only in assembling yourselves together to offer up your sacraments before him.

6 And, behold, this should be wine, yea, pure wine of the grape of the vine, of your own make.

7 And, again, strong drinks are not for the belly, but for the washing of your bodies.

This is the first prohibition—no alcohol. The partaking of wine and/or strong drink is not good (or meet) in the sight of God. Pure wine of the grape can be used to offer up sacraments, but strong drinks are not for the belly, only for the washing of bodies.

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My Word of Wisdom Experiment: Part 2 [The History]

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Welcome to the second installment of my Word of Wisdom experiment. You can read Part 1 here, where I shared thoughts about the physical body, which are foundational to an understanding of the Word of Wisdom as well as the origins for this experiment.

On to Part 2 …

The Word of Wisdom was a revelation from God, given to Joseph Smith in 1833 after he made an inquiry of the Lord regarding the use of tobacco by many of the Church’s Elders. The Church had been officially organized for three years at that point, and in the absence of a temple, the first School of the Prophets was held in a small room in the home of Bishop Newel K. Whitney. Brigham Young recorded a scene which frequently presented itself during those instructional meetings:

“The brethren came to that place from hundreds of miles to attend school … When they assembled together … the first thing they did was to light their pipes, and while smoking, talk about the great things of the kingdom … As soon as the pipe was out of their mouths a large chew of tobacco would then be taken. Often when the Prophet [Smith] entered the room to give the school instruction he would find himself in a cloud of tobacco smoke. This, and the complaints of his wife at having to clean the floor [of tobacco spit], made the Prophet think upon the matter, and he inquired of the Lord relating to the conduct of the Elders in using tobacco” (Journal of Discourses, 12:158).

In response to his inquiry, the Lord gave Joseph Smith the verses of scripture we now call the Word of Wisdom.

As I set out to outline my lesson and craft my experiment, I knew my first step was to understand deeply and completely the entirety of the principle. I began with a prayer that my mind and heart would be open to the promptings of the Holy Spirit, that I would understand exactly what the Lord intended for me to do, and that I would be able to see clearly the wisdom in the law. I then dissected each verse.

In the paragraphs that follow I will share my study notes. Of particular importance to me were the definitions of important key words in each verse. A dictionary is as essential to my gospel study as my scriptures. I find that in understanding completely every definition for a word and the root from which the word comes, my comprehension of the Lord’s language increases ten-fold. It really is amazing (and completely exciting!) to study the scriptures this way. I invite you to study along in chapter 89 of the Doctrine & Covenants.

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My Word of Wisdom Experiment: Part 1 [The Body]

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A couple months ago, I was asked to substitute teach the Relief Society (women’s group at Church) class last Sunday. This was all very exciting indeed because I love to study the Gospel and bonus!: I love to teach it. That is to say, it was all very exciting until I saw the lesson topic: The Word of Wisdom.

Really? Bleh.

Couldn’t I get a “good,” “meaty” (pun not intended, but it’s actually quite funny now that I think about it) topic like prayer, or the Plan of Salvation, or the Atonement, or something? Nope. The Word of Wisdom. (For those of you who don’t know, The Word of Wisdom is the Mormon law of health.)

A few days after being asked to teach, I ran into our Relief Society President. Frit and I are her Visiting Teachers* and I caught her in her yard one day, so technically I was doing our monthly visit “drive-by-style” while she fertilized her lawn. I’m nothing if not an efficient multi-tasker.

Anyway, she said she was so excited for me to teach and couldn’t think of anyone better to teach that particular lesson. Seriously, I thought? I clearly do not live by any sort of health code, let alone the one the Lord gave us for our benefit and longevity. (My thighs are nodding in agreement.) I mean, I do all the “nos”—no alcohol, no tobacco, no coffee, etc.—but I, by no means, do the “yeses” (we’ll get to them later). Or rather, I used to not do all the “yeses.”

Which is where this story begins. Aren’t you glad we’re finally starting?

I knew, that if I was going to teach this lesson with any sort of testimony, conviction, and understanding, I was going to have to take a more serious look at what the Word of Wisdom really is and learn for myself why the Lord gave it to us. And so I began an intense, prayerful study of the law, which is found in Doctrine and Covenants (a book of Mormon scripture) chapter 89.

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Fall Colors: Big Cottonwood Canyon

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It doesn’t happen frequently–I mean I’d take an ocean over a mountain any day–but every now and again, Utah surprises me.

Today was one of those days.

This afternoon, I got an itch to go for a drive–to somewhere I’d never been. So I pulled out my map and plotted a route from Salt Lake City, up through Big Cottonwood Canyon, and out to Heber City.

And was it ever a surprise, indeed. Every minute of that three hour drive was breathtaking.

I’m sorry to say it, Summer … but Fall just might be beating you out for that #1 Best Season of the Year spot.

Enjoy.

More pictures here …

 

Autumnal

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It’s the first day of the new season. We marked the day by pulling out the lingering overgrown tomato plants in the garden.

As much as I love summer, I’m feeling Fallish. And happy for cooler temperatures. And maybe a little rain? Please, just a little rain. I feel like this summer sucked me dry.

Anyway, we cleared out the garden, trimmed back the peonies, and uprooted an overgrown, half-dead freesia—half-dead because the morning glory (a.k.a. worst weed-plant on Earth) strangled it. Interesting isn’t it? How something so small and delicate and seemingly lovely can strangle everything in its path to death.

The tomatoes were fruitful this year though. And I even learned how to bottle some for the coming Winter months, when I’ll certainly bemoan the loss of warmth and sunshine and garden-fresh produce. I’ve kept the jars on the counter for days now because I’m so proud of them. And I like how pretty and red they look when the light shines through the window.

Did you know that Autumn means “a time of full maturity”?

I like that. And I like this new season. I have a feeling it’s got something delightful wrapped up in its golden fingers.

Moustache Bash (with a party-planning download)

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Back in March my very dear, very BFF Katie happened to be in town to take me out for my birthday. She and I were college roommates throughout our BYU experience, but she has since moved to California where she got herself a big fancy job, along with a pretty fantastic husband (holy smokes, did she find herself a gem).

So like I said, in March we were having dinner (at a restaurant that required reservations no less–sister knows how to treat a birthday-girl right!), talking and eating and talking and eating–appetizers, main course, dessert, the whole works–when I asked how the baby-making was going. I knew she and her husband had been trying and we’re close enough friends that I can pry and ask questions like that, yo.

She said they were still trying and hopefully soon something would … she stopped mid-sentence … queue big smile followed by excited burst, “Can you keep a secret?!?!?!” (Because obviously she couldn’t.) Tears (the good ones) immediately began to brim in my eyes as she told me she was expecting. She hadn’t told anyone yet because it was all so new–she was barely a month along–but she had to tell me. “You’re by BFF! I have to tell my BFF! Kurt’s gonna kill me. You can’t tell anyone. Just you, me, and Kurt know right now.” And I just cried and cried, and laughed and laughed (because it IS kind of fun to be in on a secret like that!)–so happy for my friend.

Of course, I’m always happy when someone tells me they’re expecting–babies are such exciting and special news. But having such a dear, close, and important friend tell me she was pregnant–well that was a whole different experience.

Perhaps it’s because we’re older (by our Mormon-culture standards), actually–that’s exactly what it is. Kate and I have known each other for more than 15 years. We’ve seen, quite intimately, each other’s heartache and heartbreak. We’ve been the support, the listening ear, the hopeful cheerleader, when one relationship after another didn’t work, understanding completely the deep and sometimes painful desire to love and be loved, to be a wife, to build a home, to start a family. So when it happens … somehow … somehow, the waiting makes it mean all the more.

When I saw her this weekend–I mean of course I had to hostess the baby shower!–I felt like I might explode from happy. To see her round belly and expecting eyes, to celebrate her and the life she has created and will soon deliver? There really aren’t words.

I love you, Kate.

***

For the shower, we had a moustache bash. I had a blast planning and creating and I’m sure I only slightly scared the girls who helped make the food with my unyielding control-freakish-ness.

I kept saying, “Katie’s shower ‘this’” and “Katie’s shower ‘that’” and finally Frit looked at me and said, “Let’s be honest here. This is your shower. Katie just gets to go home with the presents.” Which, might be only slightly true. (Okay, it’s all true.) But look what a grande party it was!

p.s. I created a .pdf of all the party elements I designed, if anyone wants to host their own. Download it here.

In Three Years Time

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I sent a text to Frit today that said, “Do you know what today is?”

“Monday,” she answered.

“Yes,” I replied. “AND my three year anniversary!”

“From your dismissal?”

“Yep.”

“That’s right. And look at ya now.”

“And look at me.”

It’s been three years to the day since I drove home in the middle of the work day, with my entire professional life sitting in a box in the passenger’s seat beside me, feeling fearful, hurt, embarrassed, and angry–but relieved all the same.

It’s been two years to the day since I felt anxious that my life wasn’t moving forward fast enough, like I wasn’t working hard enough to make things happen–that I had nothing to show for the year I’d spent on my own. Shortly thereafter I sank into one of the darkest times of my life.

And it’s been one year to the day since I flew back to Utah after having spent an entire summer by the seashore mending that dark little broken life, recapturing my passion and purpose.

Three years. So much happens in three years. And yet, it doesn’t.

I do still feel angry, although it’s not as fierce as it was. And I don’t know if it will ever go away completely. Which, quite honestly, is fine with me. It’s not an anger that eats away at anything. It just sits there deep inside and only bobs to the surface (pun not intended, although my word choice there is quite apropos) when I’m reminded of my “dismissal.”

But, I’m not fearful anymore, or hurt, or anxious, or embarrassed. Although I do feel those emotions vicariously whenever I hear of anyone losing their job. It doesn’t matter if they’re strangers or friends or mere acquaintances, if someone loses their job, I feel that familiar pinch in my heart. It’s the pinch I felt when I sat across from my former “boss” (quotes used intentionally, queue said anger) and heard the words, “we’re going to have to let you go.” And then I cry for that person, whomever they are–because I know the grief that will soon ensue for them, and it’s a devastating experience.

But–then I promise them that it will get better and that even though it feels like hell today, there is in fact a light at the end of the tunnel. It might take a month, it might take a year, or it might even take two, but it does get better and there’s a whole world of possibility waiting on the other side of job loss.

And as I look back over the last three years, and see all that I’ve learned and all I’ve become, I find that I can say with confidence and surety, I am so glad I’m here and not where I was.

Warm Washcloths At Bedtime: That’s the Stuff of a Happy Childhood

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I stood in front of the mirror, feeling more present, more deliberate than usual. Most days I race through the motions–floss, bush, mouthwash, eye-makeup remover, wash face, rinse face, apply skin repair serum, then moisturizer, then wrinkle cream, blow nose, wash hands, rub on hand salve, swipe chapstick–and climb quickly into bed. But for some reason, on this night, I was paying attention to every movement, every step, of my regular routine.

When I got to the “rinse face” step, I closed my eyes and moved the warm washcloth carefully over my eyes, across my cheeks, and slowly down my neck, holding the heat there upon my nape as a flicker of a memory burned in my mind.

My paternal grandmother’s name is Sally. She and my Granddad lived on Hilton Head my entire childhood and I really can’t recall any important event of my adolescence where my Grands weren’t in attendance, right alongside my parents.

As children we loved sleeping over at their house. We’d watch movies in the den and Granddad would read us stories. We got to take baths in Grandma’s tub, which was surrounded by her stacks of romance novels. She would fill the tub with more bubbles than water and we’d splash and play with the golf balls she had sitting in a plastic Cool-Whip container on the rim of the tub.

After a sufficient soak, she would dry us off and lather us in her yummy, smelly lotion. We then got to choose one of her t-shirts to wear to bed. I always chose the yellow Vagabond Cruises shirt with the tiny dolphin on the front. It was always perfectly soft and perfectly worn in.

We slept in the lilly-wallpapered room upstairs with the twin beds covered with dark green quilted bedspreads. On one bed sat a life-sized Raggedy Ann. On the other was Andy. And on the shelves above the bed sat every Care Bear in existence. Once Grandma started a collection, she finished it, by golly. My favorites were Tenderheart and Good Luck Bear.

Once we’d chosen a bear to sleep with, she would read us a story. My favorite was a book about Too-Loose the Chocolate Moose who would melt when it got hot and leave his chocolately footprints all over the forest.

After the story, we would say prayers and she would tuck us in under the yellow flowered sheets, which, like the t-shirt, were perfectly soft. And then that’s when it got really good.

As we got situated, she would get a really warm, really steamy washcloth from the bathroom and run it over our faces and necks and hands. She told us that her mother, our Mama Maude, did this very thing for her at night when she was a little girl.

And oh, was it cozy and warm–the most peaceful and happy thing right before bedtime. Then she would wind the music box, turn on the night light, and close the door.

As I stood in front of the mirror, with the warm washcloth pressed to my neck, I felt as though I were six again, draped in a soft yellow t-shirt, buried under soft yellow sheets, with my Grandma right there beside me.

Because it’s too funny to not share and I can’t stop laughing:

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So Frit was browsing an online dating site when she came across a picture of a guy who looked a lot like an old friend’s younger brother. This was surprising to her because this particular brother of this particular friend was actually married. So she clicked on his profile to see what was up to, if he’d gotten divorced, etc. but quickly realized that it wasn’t who she thought it was and left the page without giving it any more thought.

Well, on this particular site, you can see who has viewed your profile, and the guy (age 28–that’s important information) whose profile she’d clicked on, saw that she had done so and sent her the following message (mind you, she never sent him a message, just clicked on his profile by accident):

Awkward moment for me. Just wanted to say your to old for me. But I really hope that my future wife looks half as good as you do when she is your age.

Have a good day.

Tell me you’re not laughing hysterically right now.

“When she is your age” … I’m crying I’m laughing so hard.

(And let’s also, of course, take note of the fact that this young whipper-snapper didn’t use the correct “your” or the correct “to”. But then again, maybe it’s just us old biddies who use proper grammar.)

Oh man. The blogging material we’re getting out of these sites is well worth the price of the subscription. I can’t make this stuff up!