The winds of change

Yesterday I was released as the Young Women president and I got a new calling.  I am a Temple and Family History Consultant.

Gulp.

On the one hand, I feel a bit of relief about the YW thing.  I mean, you know how I love not camping.  On the other hand, I will miss those girls!  They are some great girls.  The good news, I now have a short list of candidates my sons can marry.  I just need to convince my boys (and probably the girls).

Braeden handed me this during sacrament meeting:

Which was, you know, helpful.

I am sort of enthusiastic about my new job but also feel a bit of trepidation because I don't know much about family history.  The bishop gave me a xerox copied description of my calling from the Church News (apparently it's a new calling in the church).  The first line of the description said that you didn't need to be experienced in family history.  So I guess I'm qualified.

There were tears and hugs from the young women which sort of shocked me in a good way.  They like me!  I like them too.

I'll miss them.

A day in the life of I need Adam

Yesterday I was grocery shopping and inexplicably sprung a leak.  The knuckle on my thumb split open and started to bleed.  I use lotion, Badger Balm, Working Hands and everything else everyone ever suggests to me.

I texted Adam and told him that my skin is the worst.  He told me that I needed to put on lots of lotion and then gloves to sleep in.  I did that twice last night and I woke up with much smoother hands.

I need Adam.

Yesterday my alarm clock--which tells the date--didn't switch to March.  It had February 29 as the date.  I fiddled with it and messed it up further.  Adam was leaving for work and suggested I use the manual.

Where does he come up with these novel ideas?

I used the manual and got it all set except the alarm went off at midnight.  Then something beeped a few hours later and I just unplugged the thing.

Adam set it up for me initially and I'm going to have him do it again.

I need Adam.

Last night the laurels were in charge of the combined activity--the one with all the boys and all the girls.  We played human PacMan.  I ran all of my ideas by Adam and he helped me tweak them and figure out how to divide the teams effectively.  He left work a few minutes early so he could be there to help set up the course. 

I asked him to be a referee because I envisioned boys leaping over the chairs that were the boundaries of the PacMan maze.  (And yes, the first thing Mark did when he saw the maze was leap over some chairs.)  Also, I didn't want kids running.  I wanted no broken limbs on my watch.

Adam used his booming voice to explain the rules to a gym full of kids that resembled a gym full of puppies.  He oversaw the game and blew his ref whistle for infractions.  He has this presence that is hard to argue with.  He also knows how to facilitate fun.  He tweaked the game a little as we went and all the kids had big grins on their faces.  They were working together and red faced and panting (even though no running) and smiling.  Emma even thought it was fun.

I need Adam.

Everyone still has their fingers and toes

Friday night our young men and young women went tubing at Soldier Hollow.  This was the temperature at the beginning of the evening.  (It got colder!)

I managed to keep my happy face on though, because we weren't camping! (The original plan--which I had not been a part of making--was that we would camp, in marginally heated cabins.  When I did learn of the plans, I made a desperate plea on behalf of sane people everywhere that we not camp.  And it worked!)

The camping bullet had been dodged narrowly enough that my gratitude remained intact, no matter how cold it got.

Here are some of us, bundled up to the hilt.

You will notice in the picture, I am mid putting on my mittens.  They were a gift from Geri.  Between those and my base layer (also a gift), Geri pretty much kept me alive.  Later, Cortney asked me to take pictures.  I said 1) I am not staying out here that long (notice the nice warm lodge behind us) and 2) there is NO WAY I am taking off my mittens.

I stayed outside until I could no longer feel my face then I went into the lodge where there was a fireplace and hot chocolate.

It was a beautiful spot and had I been able to feel my face, I definitely would have stayed outside longer.

This picture shows the rope tow.  As a survival strategy, sometimes people would walk up the hill to get a little bit warmer.

My job became receiving frozen kids in the lodge and giving them hot chocolate and granola bars.  After they were sufficiently thawed, they would usually bundle back up and go back for more.  One girl (maybe one of my favorites, but shhhhh, I shouldn't have said that) came to me with FROZEN hands.  I rubbed her hands and got her back among the living and when her friend wanted to go back out, Rachel said, "There is no way you could get me to go back out there."

And no one blamed her.

Some of the boys came in and their faces were too frozen to make complete expressions.  One boy was touching his face with his fingers.  He said, "I can feel my face but my face can't feel my fingers."

I guess the moral of this story is that I was very grateful for the warm lodge, our warm cars and our warm houses.  We are very fortunate people.

And, we WEREN'T CAMPING.

That night, all the young women slept over at my house.  (It was the ace in the hole I offered to dissuade the camping nonsense.)  The younger girls made beds on the main floor.  They fished their toothbrushes out of their bags and patiently waited in line to use the bathroom.

The older girls were in the basement and were pretty much maniacs.  I think they were up until 3:30 AM and I've never been more grateful for a basement.  (Because I eventually retreated to my bedroom upstairs.)  The next morning I fed them Costco muffins and poured juice and milk.  One of them commented on how nice it was of me to spend hours making them breakfast.  Such cheekiness!  Actually, it was really good to just hand them a muffin on a napkin and sit around the table together, chatting.

Eventually the girls from the basement emerged.  Bleary eyed doesn't begin to describe their state.

Emma had gone to her room at some point.  Rose, the last basement girl to emerge asked, "Where's Emma?"  I told her she was still asleep.  "Well, I'm waking her up!"

I wished Rose luck as she bounded up the stairs to Emma's room.

She's a brave girl.

I took a van load of girls home and left the rest in the care of Adam and Emma until they were ready to leave.  (The conversation went like this:  "Do you want a ride home?"  "No, I want to stay longer."  and what was I going to do?) Julie Beck was speaking at our stake center.  She is probably one of the top three women I would like to meet/be neighbors with/follow around like a puppy.  I sat in the front row and soaked in every word.  It was wonderful and enough to wash away any weariness I felt from the raucous night before.

When I got home, our basement looked like a frat house and I gathered up cups and candy wrappers and swept and vacuumed popcorn remnants.  I folded blankets and collected pillows. I filled a bin with lost and found items.  The whole time, I thought, "I'm so glad I didn't have to camp!"

A full house

The thing with Christmas parties is that you can't very well spill outside.  Especially when the temperature is in the teens.

Last night we had a Young Women party at our house.  There were 30 of us.  There was lots of food and lots of laughter and noise and...lots of clean up.

We had a white elephant gift exchange with some really funny gifts and some really nice gifts and some really lame gifts (I'm looking at you can of green chiles).  I contributed 5 gifts because I wrapped up random stuff from the YW closet that no one wanted or had wanted for the last decade.  I conveniently didn't take a gift and then pawned all the leftover gifts off on the eager youngest girls (the leaders all brought extra gifts and I didn't want to get left with anything.)  It all worked out and everyone went home happy.

Maybe the only people not happy are the mothers of the youngest girls whose daughters brought home armloads of junk.

Luckily the gift Emma brought--some wrapped pictures of Nicholas Cage she printed off the internet--fell into the right hands.  Larisa laughed and then Emerie stole them from her and I think if one of the young girls had received them, they wouldn't have been very happy.

It was fun.  They're good girls.  I feel increasingly more comfortable around them.

I think they feel comfortable too.  When she was leaving my counselor, Cortney, herded a bunch of girls out too.  They may have stayed all night.

Which would have been OK.  I would have just gone upstairs to bed. 

Emma got Special Agent Oso.  I had no idea who that was.  Someone from Disney Channel.  Emma said Mark used to watch it.  I have no memory of that.  I think I was too busy to pay attention to what Mark was watching.

Words

Jennifer called me the other day.  She had a punctuation question for me.  There was a lot to love about that.  For one thing, I was flattered that she would ask me when my blog is peppered with grammatical mistakes.  Mostly, I love that Jennifer takes grammar seriously.  Like I told her, apostrophes in the wrong hands can be a dangerous thing.

She asked me her question (girls varsity basketball or girls' varsity basketball?) and I wasn't positive of the answer.  I wished Emma was there to weigh in.  I asked Jennifer if she'd googled it.  Of course she had, she said she found mixed results.  I looked up on MaxPreps and also looked in the Deseret News which always has lots of sports stories.  Both places supported no apostrophe.  So that was my opinion.

(When Emma got home, I asked her what she thought.  She said, wonderingly, "That is a good question!"

Then Jennifer innocently asked me how I was doing and I launched into a story about my anxiety about our YW activity and she possibly wished she'd just not asked.

Probably not though.  Jennifer is stellar and very kind.

Our YW activity was caroling at the local rest home.  Caroling is the worst.  I know that is a scandalous thing to say around my sisters, but I find it super awkward when carolers come to my door and so I don't like to inflict the awkwardness on other people.

My laurels wanted to do it though, so away we went.

I found some typed up carols in an envelop in a box in my YW closet.  (That YW closet is sort of like Mary Poppins' bag.  It is an unending supply of just STUFF and how does it all fit?!?)  I thought the typed up words may come in handy.

I handed out the words to the girls and we decided which songs we were going to sing.

Here was one of the songs, The First Nowell.

Did the person that typed these words just type them from memory and not know how to spell Noel?  Did they copy it from another source?  A source that had, "Nowell, Nowell, Born is the King of Israel..."

We all carefully didn't make eye contact while we sang the song, knowing we would start to laugh.

After every song, one lady would cheer and say, "Sing more!"

After our third song, a man who had been enthusiastic at the first, said, "OK, that's enough!"

Sometimes I meet other people that feel the same way as I do about Christmas caroling.

Changes

It's not a secret to anyone that I spent the first part of my time as Young Women president scared to death.  I also didn't really want to be Young Women president.  It was a lot of work and the girls were surly so it didn't feel like it was worth the work.

Things have changed.  Last night the laurels came to my house.  One girl came to the first activity I think she's been to in over a year.  I've been doggedly reaching out to her in what felt like ineffective ways, but she came!  (She left early.)

We decorated cookies.  The girls sat around the table and created masterpieces and disasters with frosting.  They laughed a lot.  It seemed like everyone felt a part of things, even the new girl that moved in less than a month ago.

Rose is one of my girls and she's in a wheelchair (hopefully today she'll be able to graduate to a walker).  She had surgery on both legs and she is an inspiration to me of tenacity and optimism.  Her mom brought her early and Mark and Adam got her up the front steps.  They were gone to scouts when we were finished decorating and then we were going to deliver the cookies in our neighborhood.  We debated the best way to get Rose down the steps.  She was game to scoot down on her bottom but by then it was cold and the steps aren't that clean.  (I should sweep them.)

I was in charge of certification at Girls' Camp and inspiration struck.  Liz (another leader) and I did a two person arm carry.  Guess what?  It works!

That's why you go to camp, kids.

We got her in the van and Emma said maybe Liz and I could be an infamous duo.  Instead of Thelma and Louise, we would be Thelma and Liz.

I was just proud of us for carrying Rose.  (She's tiny so it wasn't that hard, but still.)

We had over ten plates of cookies.  We delivered cookies to a house in our neighborhood then asked for a referral of where to deliver the next plate.  It was fun and we made some people happy and made some people super confused.  One lady said, "But I don't know any of you."  She lives in one of the probably 4 houses in our ward boundaries that doesn't have a member of our church living there.  Everyone else looked at the group and knew it was a YW activity.

Running across the grass to the car, Heather wailed about her cold feet.  She was wearing sandals.

There were more changes afoot than just me having a genuine good time at a YW activity.  It was 73 degrees on Tuesday.  A record. 

Last night, it snowed.

I think that's the end of sandal weather.

Young Women in Excellence 2016

I. Am. Tired. 

Days like yesterday that are anything but calm, remind me of how much I enjoy the more calm days.

It was Young Women In Excellence which is one of the Big Deals in the life of a YW president.  My fellow leaders and I had been preparing for weeks.  I wrote a talk and then rewrote it yesterday morning.  Everyone's best friend, Pinterest, helped us with the idea.  This is where our inspiration came from.

I appreciate people that share their good ideas.

Our youth are doing a Small and Simple Things challenge right now so a Small and Simple Things theme seemed perfect.

We had eight leaders decorate eight tables, one for each value color.  They looked so pretty that I took a picture of each.  Except integrity.  Somehow I missed it.  I'm also realizing that I didn't take a picture of the refreshment table.  One of my counselors did it and it was amazing. 

Faith:  this was mine

Divine Nature

Individual Worth

Knowledge

Choice and Accountability

Good Works

Virtue

Each leader also gave a short talk about each value and we had the YW give talks about things they'd done for personal progress. 

Emma wasn't able to be there because she was in a performance at her school for her productions class (I had to miss opening night but there are two more shows and I will be there front and center--well, house left.  That's where Emma told me to sit for optimum viewing).  And if she had been there she would have had to speak because she finished her Personal Progress recently!  Happy Day!  I did have her create the program.  She is a font guru and can make Microsoft Word do magic tricks that I can only dream about. (I should have been taking notes.)

One girl spoke about how I'd helped her with one of her goals by sending her a text message every day for two weeks to remind her.  I was feeling a bit pleased with myself and then the next girl talked about how I'd asked her to speak and "when Sister Davis walks up to you at church that is never a good thing."

So don't worry about me holding onto any feelings of smugness for too long.

Teenage girls have a way of tempering any success you may experience.

It was a nice night though.  They're good girls.  They're worth spending time trying to create a sort of fancy event for.

Now I am off to restore order around here.  I was too tired to even unload the van last night. 

Sometimes

Being a YW president kind of reminds me of being a mom.  Every day you are succeeding and failing.

At the same time.

Every day you try.  Every day you feel like you could have tried harder.  There's always something more you could have done.

Then, sometimes, the planets align.  Sometimes, it feels like, this is working! In both motherhood and young women's, I don't take much credit for times like that.  Because then I would have to take all the credit for the failures too.

Our laurel activity (the girls 16-18 years old) was to go to the choir concert at the high school.  Six of our girls were performing.  Two of the girls who were not in the concert met me outside the doors of the auditorium 15 minutes before the concert started.

Mistake.

The place was packed.  As in, people were lining the aisles.  The Pleasant Grove choir concerts must give fire marshals nightmares.  

(And don't get me started about the sparsely attended volleyball game happening at the same time in the enormous and brand spanking new gym....)

We need a bigger auditorium, but sports will forever and always outrank performing arts.

Anyway.

My two girls and I darted inside, dodging people and looking for seats.  A girl from our stake who is friends with Heather and Emerie flagged us down.  Their YW group was there for the concert too.  "We have three seats," she said.  "Just for the 6th ward."

I gratefully thanked her and she said, "You're welcome!  I'm Jenna, by the way.  Emma's in my French class.  I really like her."

Hurray for Jenna!

(And how did Jenna know I was Emma's mom?)

I didn't have time to ponder that.  I texted Adam, who would be arriving late, that he was on his own and I couldn't save him a seat and then the concert began.

The reason why there are no seats (and Adam had to eventually enjoy the concert from the hallway), is that the choirs are spectacular!  It's always a thrill to attend their concerts.  I liked being there with Heather and Emerie too.  We nudged each other and pointed out our girls to each other when they took the stage.  (There she is!  Second row, third girl in...stuff like that.)

After the concert we joined the crush of people in the hallway.  There was no way I'd meet up with Adam.  I followed Emerie and Heather and they found Emma.  Rose grabbed my shoulder from behind.  We held onto each other's shoulders in a single line and waded through the crowd.  We saw Bekah and kept heading up the hallway.  Finally we found Larisa and a more open spot.  I stood back and watched the girls chatting.  The choir girls had shining eyes and happy faces as they drank in the attention and support from each other.  I sent an emissary to look for the other girls.  It was just a nice convivial time.  Gradually the laurels parted, drifting away with other friends.  I don't know if it meant as much to them as it did to me.  I loved seeing them connect.

It was a bright spot in my week.

The struggle is real

I needed to go to Deseret Book to pick up a Young Womanhood Recognition award.  It's a long name for the necklace the young women get when they complete their personal progress requirements.   I've gone to get the necklaces a few times so I know how the process works.

The lady working there did not.

I went back to the Distribution Center part of the store.  I explained my purpose.

"Oh," Store Clerk said, "Let me show you where they are."

So then I thought maybe they'd changed the system.

Store Clerk led me into the store, down the Young Woman aisle and showed me the torch necklaces.  They aren't any sort of award, just jewelry.

I explained again what I needed.

"We have chains?" Store Clerk said, sifting her fingers through the display of packaged chains.

Again, I need the Young Womanhood Recognition Award.

"Before," I said, "I had to get them in the back and only YW leaders can get them."

Store Clerk looked confused.

Store Clerk asked a fellow employee and Fellow Employee backed me up.  So then Store Clerk asked me for my phone number.  I told her and she said, "Thelma Davies?"

"Yes, " I said, "Well, it's Davis, but that's me."

"Oh."

Fellow Employee told her where to find the necklaces and she told me it would be $10.

"Before," I said, "they charged it to my ward rather than have me pay."  (Because the ward clerk lectures me if I mess stuff up like that.)

"Oh."  Fellow Employee was again consulted and again confirmed that I knew what I was talking about.

I told her the name of my ward (Grove Creek 6th Ward) and she typed it in.  She was unable to find it in her computer system though.

You guessed it, Fellow Employee was called over.

They studied the computer screen.

"I don't know if that is the correct name of the ward," Fellow Employee said.  "Maybe it's Grove."

So Store Clerk asked for clarification.  "Is it Growth Creek or Grove Creek?"

Growth Creek????

"Grove," I said, "like Pleasant Grove?"

"Oh."

So then she needed all my information again.  I told her my name and she said, "Right, but it's spelled like Davies, right?"

I said, "D-A-V-I-S."

I think we're just going to have to agree to disagree on the pronunciation.

Saturday night a bunch of young women were over here for a party.  I was telling them the tale of getting the necklace.

"It was a struggle," I said.

Emma said, "Larisa, you only had to do all the Personal Progress requirements, my mom had to go get the necklace."

Touché.

It is probably a bigger deal to complete all the requirements.  I'm telling you though, it wasn't easy getting the necklace either.

This is to say I made it back alive

Pictures from camp:

Emma

Heather's leg

OK, not really.  We had a mock disaster and the YCLs (youth camp leaders) dressed up with specific injuries and the younger girls had to use the first aid skills they'd learned to treat them.

There was a lot of teamwork that went into the scarily believable "compound fracture" of Heather's.  Here the fellow YCLs are blowing on the glue (Elmer's Glue) that she used to attach the "bone" which was part of a Styrofoam cup.

They're pretty ingenious girls.  And the mock disaster was a hit.

The girls are pretty much a delight.  Still, there were times when I was at camp that I would consider places like Cabela's.   There's an entire industry devoted to people that go camping...and they go camping on purpose.   It staggers my mind.  Who does that?

I didn't like walking through grass full of mice and ground squirrels (or pot guts as they're called around here).  I didn't like sleeping in a tent.  I didn't like traipsing across the way to use the bathroom in the middle of the night (although I so appreciated Adam going with me--Adam = wonderful).  I didn't like being dirty. The bottom of the shower was full of mouse droppings and there were spider webs ringing the top and the water was cold.  After the first time, I decided the shower wasn't worth a repeat. 

I admit to wondering what in the world I was doing?  I mean, I have a house.

The last night we had some guest speakers and then a testimony meeting.  I felt a unity and love for those girls and leaders!  I thought about the leaders that weren't there and I thought, they are missing out!  Then I thought, wait--does that mean I'm glad I'm here?!?

And I realized, yes it does.

There's a reason for the whole girls' camp thing.  It brings people together.  I got to know the girls in ways I wouldn't otherwise know.  There were a few moments when I shared a smile and laugh with some of the girls that are the hardest nuts to crack.  One girl squeezed my hand when she was getting a really nasty splinter removed from her finger.  Her eyes filled with tears and I wrapped my arms around her.  She's always been one of the cool kids and I'm...you know, not.  Where we were once polite but distant, she was now mine and I was going to take care of her.

So it's worth it.  I'm just OK with the fact that it only happens once a year.

I am what you call indoorsey

I am at Girls' Camp for the rest of the week.

Coincidentally, Ammon is going camping with some scouts this week too.  I'm not sure who would win a less excited contest.  Here's a text conversation we had.

From the ashes

Sunday night I took my third trip to the Provo City Center Temple.  It doesn't get old. 

Saturday evening we found out that the Young Women in our ward and their mothers had been invited to go to a special tour of the room where the brides prepare for their weddings as well as a sealing room (where marriages are performed).  I scrambled to get tickets and to let everyone know. 

Sunday was a busy day and by the time I sat in my seat before the tour, I mostly just wanted to go to bed. Then they showed us a video about Young Women and temples and...I cried.  Then a couple spoke to us.  The man found out where we were from.  He said, "So this is thirty minutes from your home and you passed a temple to get here.  Plus there is a temple the other direction even closer to your home."

He told us about his wife who is from Argentina.  When she was baptized in the '70s, the nearest temple was 12,000 miles away.

That is staggering.

Not for the first time, I had the feeling that I'd better make something of myself since I have been given so many advantages and blessings in life.

He talked a little about the Provo City Center Temple.  It used to be a tabernacle.  It was used for church meetings and concerts.  Adam and I had stake conference there when we were first married and when I taught at American Heritage School, we had our Patriotic Program at the Provo Tabernacle.  It was a beautiful and serviceable building.

Then it caught fire.

It completely burned except the brick shell.

The bricks were soft and since the building was built by pioneers back in the day, it was not anything close to earthquake proof or sturdy.

Our speaker told us there was a lot of debate about what should be done with the building.  Most everyone thought that it wasn't worth it to repair.  Someone suggested it be razed and a new post office could be built in its place.

But then at the October 2011 General Conference, President Monson made this announcement:

Late last year the Provo Tabernacle in Utah County was seriously damaged by a terrible fire. This wonderful building, much beloved by generations of Latter-day Saints, was left with only the exterior walls standing. After careful study, we have decided to rebuild it with full preservation and restoration of the exterior, to become the second temple of the Church in the city of Provo.

The speaker pointed out that God had a different purpose for the tabernacle.  He then said we are like the tabernacle.  He said, "You are beautiful and do good things now. If you haven't already, you will someday have a fire.  It may be small or you may really crash and burn.  Some people, including you, may think you're worthless, but the Lord just has a different purpose for you." 

He can make something magnificent out of the ashes.

The temple is stunning and gorgeous.  It has been strengthened in amazing ways and is glorious in its new purpose.

It was meaningful to be there with the young women (especially Emma).  As we walked through these elegant rooms that were enhanced by their significance in my life, it was a silent tour but I was sending them telepathic messages.  Urgent ones:  You want this in your life.  You want to get married in a temple where you will be sealed to your husband and children forever.  Don't settle for anything less.  You want this girls.

An attractive college aged woman was leading our tour.  At the end, when we were outside the temple, one of my girls, Rose, said to the tour leader, "I just have to tell you, you are beautiful."  The woman was taken back but smiled happily.  As we were taking the protective shoe coverings off our feet, the girls were still dazzled by the tour leader apparently.  They told her they loved her shoes.  "Thanks," she said, "I got them in New York when I was living in Connecticut."

That caught Emma's attention.  She asked where in Connecticut (south of Hartford).  Emma said, "I was born in New Haven."

"I love New Haven!" the woman said. "The best pizza restaurant in the world is in New Haven."

"Pepe's?" Emma asked.

The delight over being called beautiful and having her shoes admired was completely eclipsed by the Pepe's mention.  The woman grinned widely and gave Emma a high five.  Because Pepe's.

On the drive home I reflected on all I had to be grateful for:

1-close proximity to temples
2-opportunities to serve good girls
3-an eternal marriage
4-Adam
5-my kids who are mine forever
6-Pepe's

It's a pretty good life.

One at a time

Yesterday after school, I was taking a group of seven youth to the temple.  One signed up, forgetting he had driver's ed. so he had to cancel.  Most of the rest of them (including Mark) were too sick to go. It turned out I was taking one girl.  Haley and I went together.  She is twelve and I like her.  She is at ease with adults and talked comfortably with me about her classes, what she liked and what she didn't.  She hasn't been to the temple too many times so she said she was disappointed no one else was there.  She said, "I'm afraid I'll forget the process."

I described it to her.  I said, "Does that make sense?"

"No," she said, "tell me again."

So I did.  "You got it?" I asked.

"Yes."

We were back to chatting about all sorts of other things.  She coincidentally has the same last name as me and I thought as they were checking our recommends that I wouldn't mind if people thought she were my daughter.

I settled into a chair with an Ensign magazine while I waited for Haley to do proxy baptisms.  She handed me her glasses to hold and sought my reassurance a few times from across the room.

As we were leaving the temple, she commented on the fog.  I said something about it being an inversion and she said, "I don't know what that is?  Is that science?"  (She said it like science tasted bad in her mouth.)

"No," I said, "It's weather." (Which is maybe science, but whatever.)

I told her I love weather and I told her what an inversion means.  We cranked up the heat in the van and she started telling me about her love for horses.  As we climbed the mountain toward our homes, we came up out of the fog a little and I pointed to the blue sky above the mountain.  "See?" I said, "Inversion."

"That's cool!" she said.

"I know!  Weather!"

Then she laughed at me a little because what kind of nerd loves weather and said, "Can I tell you more about horses?"

I said yes.

I dropped her off and told her I'd see her Sunday.  I felt happy as I watched her long blonde hair swing behind her as she walked up her sidewalk.

Sometimes being young women's president is overwhelming and hard and frustrating.  I need to remember these girls one on one.  One on one they are the same.  We all are.  We need reassurance for new experiences and want someone to be interested in what we care about.

One on one I am less intimidated.

On my mind

You couldn't pay me to be Young Women president.  It is just too hard.  Sometimes I feel like I have a target on my back and there are plenty of people with bows drawn, ready to take aim.  Sometimes it feels a bit thankless.  But I keep trying.  I keep working and messing up and hopefully learning from my mistakes.

I guess it's a true principle that you can't help but care a lot about something if you put a lot of yourself into it.

Last night we had New Beginnings at church.  It is a yearly event for the Young Women and their parents.  We welcome the girls that will turn twelve and join the Young Women organization this year and we tell them about the program and what to expect and look forward to.

It was a Big Deal.  I worked on it from noon on and I had spent a lot of time in the weeks preceding the event working on it too.  My counselors, who are amazing, put in every bit as much time as I did.  Probably more.

The room was decorated (I didn't take a picture but it was sort of elaborate).  The girls were there with their parents, dressed up and looking pretty.  They performed the parts they had been given, everything went more or less smoothly.  The new girls seemed to be happy.

As we were cleaning up and my knee was aching, I felt a little hollow inside.  I couldn't help it and I couldn't exactly name what was bothering me either.  I should feel satisfied, I thought.  It seemed successful.  It's over. 

But I didn't.

Then I realized why.

Not all the girls were there.

One girl had work and couldn't get out of her shift though she tried.  One girl was sick.  Others just didn't come.

They usually don't.

And I could finally name that hollow place inside of me.  I miss those girls.  I want them there.

Come fly with me

Last night we had out Young Women In Excellence which is kind of a year in review celebration.  We went with an airline theme.

In a big way.

It all started with Pinterest. (doesn't everything?)  Then the Young Women leaders sort of ran. With. It.

We had the Relief Society room set up like baggage claim and the Young Women room was set up like an airplane.  Complete with windows, an emergency exit, seat pockets with safety instructions.  We had a cart to push down the aisle, with water bottles and "flotation devices" which were tiny donuts. 

It was adorable and I didn't take any pictures so you'll have to take my word for it.

I decided I wanted music for the beginning, Frank Sinatra, Come Fly With Me type music.  I texted Adam, "What are some other songs like that?"

A few minutes later he texted me back a playlist he'd created.

Adam.

That guy never disappoints.

The bishopric was the team of pilots:

And I should add they were very good sports!

(And you don't know how hard we tried to get the broken curtains to close!)

Here are the flight attendants.  It's blurry, but you get the idea:

It was the first big activity that we have done that wasn't us scrambling to carry out the plans of the previous leaders.  It was all ours and it felt good. 

A few of us spent most of the day preparing and decorating.  It was exhausting and afterward, Adam was cleaning up and loading all of our cars with all of our stuff and moving furniture and being his normal Adam self.

When we got home, I told Mark, "Do you know how awesome your dad is?"  Then I outlined all the help he was to me.

Mark said, "Isn't that what dads do?"

And maybe that's the best compliment Mark could give his dad.  Because as far as Mark knows, dads are always helpful and selfless and the go to person when you need anything.

(And Adam learned it from his dad.)

Living in Utah county

Braeden and I went to see Once I Was A Beehive.  It may or may not ever be shown beyond the shadows of the Wasatch mountains.  I don't know.  I do know I loved this movie!  (And you've got to admire the security of an 18 year old boy who would go to a girlie movie with his mom.)

It's about Girls' Camp and having gone to Girls' Camp as a young woman and having gone as a leader, I thought it was impeccable.  A little over the top and exaggerated because, you know, it's a movie, but I know people like the people in this movie.  A lot of them.  They are crazy and quirky and ultimately really loveable.

There's a lot of quirkiness about being a Mormon.  We are different.  Peculiar even.  (Hopefully loveable.) 

Living around here, I feel Understood.  I can let my freak flag fly.  I don't know, did I use that right?  Is being Mormon a freak flag?  It's a little surreal to live in a place where my religion is not in the minority.  Everywhere else I've ever lived, being a Mormon was Different.  Here it is The Same. 

I've decided that getting a missionary ready in Utah County is a luxury.  It feels like all the stores have my back.  First there was The Missionary Mall and then there was bicycle shopping.  Every mission is different and sometimes you buy the bike there and apparently sometimes you don't.  Braeden's mission let us know he could either send a bike from home (which he's outgrown and Mark has commandeered) or he could buy one there.  Braeden is the least likely person in the world to have retail experience or shopping skills.  He doesn't like to shop (unless it's for outlandish clothes at a thrift store).  Also, he has a shopping attention span of about 20 seconds (that is if he's promised a treat).  I felt queasy about entrusting him with a bicycle purchase.  We went to Fezzari bike shop.  They had great deals for missionaries (plus free shipping to his mission).  Also, they know what kinds of bikes missionaries need.  They measured him because they will build him a custom bike and the bike will be pretty much assembled when it is sent.  (I would send an unassembled bike to Mark, but not Braeden.  Braeden has a lot of talents and abilities but none of them involve tools.) 

I was elated when we left the shop.  I would like to give Utah County a great big kiss.

I made it!

There I am in my smashing sun hat that made my children mock me.  I did not get sunburned.

Girls' Camp

Not for the faint of heart.

I experienced a wide range of emotions.  I had anxiety (but only before it started).  I was tired.  I got a little annoyed (because sometimes people can be annoying).  I got a little cranky (at 1:30 in the morning when I was freezing cold and I couldn't get my sleeping bag zipper to cooperate.  I woke Adam up and he settled me down and fixed my zipper.)  I would look around on occasion and think there was no place I would rather be.

I can't tell you how happy I was that Adam was there.  Here he is with the other brave man that accompanied us:

They were our go to helpers.

We hiked in Zion National Park, which is stunning.

half the girls are still wearing swimsuits because we hiked in the Narrows

In keeping with our theme of camp, which was "Unsinkable," the girls made boats out of milk jugs:

Then we floated them in a reservoir.  They turned out really well:

these are the darling little first years

The actual camping part wasn't as terrible as I thought it would be (mostly thanks to Adam).  One of the other leaders put this sign on our tent.  (She'd had Emma text her the pictures of us.)

Then I laughed out loud for awhile. 

I like all the women who are also YW leaders even more after our time together.  Their true colors shined.

Our last night, we abandoned ship (ha ha) and left our campsite and stayed one night in some condos.  The original plan with the previous leaders was to stay longer in the condos but I'm glad we only stayed one night.  It was harder to connect with everyone when we were spread out like that.  (Although taking a shower was a very positive mood altering experience.)

In the condos, we performed skits.  The leaders did a synchronized swimming number which was dazzling.  First we giggled for about 20 minutes while we practiced, then we tried really hard to keep it together while we performed.  It was SO funny but the girls didn't really laugh.  They sat in sort of stunned silence.  It's always a little sad when you think you're funnier than maybe you really are.

So. Very. Synchronized.

notice one of the girls is scratching her head...what is going on here?

 
I laughed so much that my face hurt.

The YCLs (Youth Camp Leaders) of which Emma was a part, did a lip sync of a Backstreet Boys song.  Some of these girls are so funny that they should be able to charge admission just to be able to hang around with them.  

I loved spending time with the girls.  There are some good ones. I felt closer to them as we shared spiritual experiences and I saw them step up to the plate to serve each other and be kind and helpful.

Also, I loved being there with this girl:

I don't camp

In Paul Blart: Mall Cop, (Have you seen that movie?  Go watch it.  And the sequel.) Paul Blart says a few times that he doesn't drink.

He's at a party and says, "This lemonade is insane!"

Then his friend tells him that it is because it is a margarita.  So poor Paul gets unwittingly drunk.

Later, when he ends up with a tattoo on his back, he says, "It's the Loch Ness monster.  I don't drink."

I keep thinking about that with Girls' Camp happening next week.  All the plans are moving forward.  It's taken over my life and I dream about Girls' Camp, but here's the thing:  I don't camp.

I have anxiety about leaving my boys behind.  (Don't forget to water the plants, Braeden.  Also, keep your brother alive.)  I have anxiety about it all going smoothly and everyone getting along and staying healthy and safe.  I have anxiety that I'm in charge.

And then that detail:  I don't camp.

I am I-can't-even-explain-the-extent grateful that Adam is going with me.  His very presence is a comfort.  He's funny and a good go with the flow type person.  He keeps a cool head and knows how to set up a tent and start a fire.

He may have to bar the door (tent flap?) to make sure I don't make a run for the nearest hotel.  He's up to the challenge.  I will go.  I will do my best.

But if I show up with a tattoo of the Loch Ness monster on my back, remember you heard it here first.

I don't camp.

oh, boy...

Yesterday started with a text message that sent my day into a tailspin.  It was nothing life threatening, just a rather important kink in the planning of Girls' Camp, which is next week.  That kink unearthed some other pretty major problems in the whole Girls' Camp Plan.  Oh, and the camp director is on vacation and out of cell phone range this week.

The result was two different two hour long meetings, several phone calls, an enormous barrage of text messages.

And just a teeny tiny little bit of stress.

Which is, you know, no big deal for me.  I got this.  Stress is my favorite.

Except it makes my brain sort of melt.

I sent out a big group text to ten people calling the second of the emergency planning meetings.  People started answering me back and I was responding to their texts while I was trying to find the other numbers of the people that I needed to text and my poor little brain, which can't handle much at best, was in overdrive.  (Multi-tasking!  Bad idea!)

One girl answered back that she could make the meeting.  I cross my heart and hope to die that I  thought she'd texted that she couldn't make the meeting.  I texted her back with alternative times we could meet.  She texted back, I can make it.

Which, I of course, in my brain melting way, read, "I can't make it."

Wow, I thought, she can't come to any meetings?  I texted her again with more alternative times.  Her response of course didn't make sense because I had forgotten how to read.

So I did what any person would do.

"Emma!"  I yelled, "Come and read this for me.  I am not understanding this."

She picked up my phone and read it.  "She. Can. Come. To. The. Meeting," Emma said.  She didn't add, you are a crazy and deranged woman and pretty soon we're going to have to put you in a home so you don't hurt yourself.

(That was nice of her not to add the last bit.)

Before you start looking up the number of the insane asylum to refer me to, I am feeling better.  My goal today, besides hide my cell phone somewhere where I'll never be able to find it again (because I can't handle that guy, obviously), is to get organized.

This stack includes all the little notes that I've written to myself that need attention (because it's not just wrecked Girls' Camp Plans that are happening...there's all that other life type stuff as well):

If I can make sense of that stack and maybe put it all on one piece of paper (a rather large piece), I think I will be OK.

Wish me luck!

A random collection of randomness

1- I still know all the words to Kenny Rogers' song, The Gambler.  Don't let anyone ever tell you I don't have skills.

2- After a hiatus of three years, I am joining my sisters, hopefully all my sisters-in-law, my mom, one aunt and some cousins and going to Women's Conference at BYU.  When I think about it by chance during the day, I just grin.  I can't help it.

The program came in the mail.  I want to go to everything.  Twice.

3- It snowed several inches yesterday.

4- Emma didn't sleep one bit Tuesday night and then she spent all day yesterday at Disneyland.  She is ten thousand times stronger than I am. That would kill me.  Dead.  No more Thelma. 

5- Speaking of the name Thelma, I always, always have to spell it for people.  And it strikes me as a pretty phonetic word.  I've started saying my name is Emma when I need to give it at a restaurant or something.  It's easier because Thelma is such a stumbling block for people.  Yesterday at the store, looking at my account, a store clerk asked me how I pronounce my first name.  Take it slow...sound it out?  I'm not sure how many alternative pronunciations there could be.

6- Yesterday I talked to Tabor while he was driving.  He drove by my house twice in his travels and said he waved.  I didn't see it, but I'll believe him.  He was too pressed for time to stop.  That kid is definitely in the top three of my favorite brothers.  I love talking to him.  He is funny and empathetic and wise.  He always makes me feel better.  He said, "I wish I were there to give you a hug."

7- You know what, Tabor?  Me too.

8- I prepared some stuff for Young Women's and I felt like I was in an alternative universe where I do Pinterest-y type stuff.

9- I mean, look at me and my bad self.

10- But I didn't even get these ideas from Pinterest.  They are Thelma (how do you pronounce that?) originals.

11- Isn't that one pretty Emma?

12- I miss her.