It takes an hour to get there.  One bus, two different subway trains, one street tram: I try never to make so many connections but the cemetery is as far away from the city center as you can get without entering the countryside.  I can see why Vienna’s Zentral Friedhof is a tourist destination.   It’s massive, it holds the graves of loads of famous folks, the Jugenstil cathedral is divine.  I’m not ashamed to admit that I’ve visited the cemetery just to take pictures, wander around, act like a tourist, completely carefree.

Today the trip is made with intent. (read more…)

I’ve never been a private person. The only time I ever got called into the bishop’s office as a teenager, it was for mooning a van full of our ward’s young men on the way home from Youth Conference. When Leslie and I were college freshmen, we never closed the shades to our dorm room at Deseret Towers. Years later, driving on 9th East one night we looked up at our old dorm room and realized what a peep show we had given to all of east Provo.

My DH, on the other hand, likes his privacy. He likes to keep his curtains closed and his online identity pseudonymous. Several years ago, his parents built a canyon cabin. They have neighbors, but compared with life in your average American subdivision, it’s pretty quiet up there. The cabin has no blinds or curtains on the back side of the house and the first time we stayed there, the lack of window coverings freaked my DH out. “I can’t relax,” he complained. “Who’s do you think is out there watching us?” I asked, “The deer or the fish?” (read more…)

If I hear it one more time I might scream, or laugh hysterically in the face of a well-meaning friend. Neither of which would be good.

“It” is this: Once you have three children, you can have more and not really even notice. (read more…)

I’m not going to kid you.

Losing weight is NOT a resolution this year.

And neither is less chocolate, more vegetables, less butter, more hymns. None of it.

My New Year’s Resolution this year is one I can absolutely and decidedly FULFILL. (read more…)

Three cheers for the sentimental sorts.  I am not among you.  I don’t notice dates, I don’t take note of names, and the only reason I remember my anniversary is that I might get a present out of it.  (read more…)

Ooh, we’re lucky today. I’ve persuaded Annie of Basic Joy to share a post that will inspire you for the New Year. Annie is the mother of 3 incredible children, loving wife to G, a fellow at Tufts University and an incomparable friend. She also runs the Letters to a Parent Project and she’d probably be thrilled if YOU submitted a letter this year. Enjoy!

Today as I was watching my daughter’s violin lesson, her wonderful teacher Cate asked “Maddy, do you consider yourself to be someone who holds pieces of herself back & tries to take up less room? Or do you think of yourself as someone who opens right up and shares with everybody and isn’t afraid to be noticed?” (read more…)

2008– it’s been a rough year to be a Mormon.

January brought the death of our beloved prophet, President Hinckley, a force of nature who had virtually led the church for 30 years. We’d scarcely had time to mourn before Mitt Romney’s presidential bid poured scrutiny and ridicule upon the church.

As a people, we responded with letters, blog posts and candid conversations with fellow Christians, “I don’t think you’re going to hell. What makes you so sure I am?”

Yet, just as we’d steadied our collective feet, the Texas Rangers raided an FLDS polygamist compound and GOODNESS! everyone thought that WE were THEM. My husband calmly answered phone calls from distant business associates, “Yes, one wife is enough for me.” and I told blogging friends in Florida, “No, no, I don’t have to wear a skirt every day.” (read more…)

Yesterday we pulled the boxes down out of the attic and performed in reverse the ritual we went through exactly a month ago: garlands rewound, ornaments rewrapped, Christmas stories packed away for another year. My mom always waited until after the New Year to pack up the Christmas decorations, but I was starting to feel claustrophobic, and eager to start off 2009 in a space where I’m not tripping over the Little People nativity eight times a day. Ring out the messy, Ring in the clean– that’s what Tennyson meant, isn’t it? (read more…)

There’s a particular kind of happy anticipation that comes when you know your loved one is going to open up a gift on Christmas morning that will put them over the moon. It obviously doesn’t need to be an expensive or elaborate gift, but this year we somehow managed to actually divine what each child was secretly opining for. More miraculously, they weren’t pricey over-the-top gifts.

I have spent the last three weeks in eager anticipation, somewhere between “I can’t wait another second until Christmas”, and “I hope this feeling never ends”. I was not let down. Christmas morning came, and watching the children open their gifts made me fairly burst with happiness. (read more…)

Five days from now is our contest deadline–now is time for the “tinker stage” of writing.

You can find details for our poetry contest here. As you revise your poems before submission, we recommend you read this post, by Sharlee Glenn, which explains the kind of poetry we’re looking for. You might also want to check out this post, which details the revision process involved in the poem “Ultrasound.”

Prose contest details can be found here. And I have a few final ideas for you as you revise your contest essays. You’ve got the honest heart; you’ve structured the pieces of your story in a cohesive way. Here are some more things to consider:

-The end and the beginning. (read more…)

Tonight I watched my kids dressed up in our family’s annual Nativity. My daughter was an angel. I had warned her ahead of time that she might not be Mary. “I don’t want to be Mary!” she informed me. “You made me be Mary the last time. I want to be an angel.”

And angelic she was, a reverent expression on her face as she stood behind Mary and Joseph. My older son was a yellow-turbaned wise man, who presented his gifts with a flourish. I meant for my youngest son to be a shepherd, but he boycotted the Nativity, until the very end, when he fought with his second cousin over who got to tuck in the baby Jesus’ blanket. (read more…)

Congratulations to Shauna, who won our giveaway! And thank you to everyone for your kind words. As I read them I felt a bit guilty, because I seriously fished for compliments, and I think I should have just said “comment here” not “comment and tell us how great we are.” So, my apologies. But also my thanks to you–I’m so glad you find a haven here. You have no idea how much I wish we could send a copy to everyone; I hope all who commented get a chance to read it someday. I wish you all much love, and a Merry Christmas.

This concludes a series of guest posts from lovely Leslie R. of Heaven’s Overlook. Many thanks to Leslie for sharing with us her poetic style, poignant insights and thoughtful prose.

If, as Herod, we fill our lives with things,
and again with things; If we consider ourselves so
unimportant that we must fill every moment of our
lives with action, when will we have the time to
make the long slow journey across the desert as did
the Magi? Or sit and watch the stars as did the
shepherds? Or brood over the coming of the child
as did Mary? For each of us, there is a desert to travel.
A star to discover,
and a being within ourselves
to bring to life.

~Anonymous

Seven years ago, just before Christmas, I lost my father. I nursed him through the last few weeks of his life, feeding him tomato soup and cranberry juice for lunch everyday. Two days before he left our family, I buried my head into his chest and begged him not to leave. (read more…)

I hear him talking to Sister S* on the phone.  He’s making small talk (quite a feat!) before inviting her to speak about charity on Sunday.  He’s happy, she must have accepted.  They continue to talk but their conversation fades as I look at the disastrous kitchen.  Because of a full working day and Christmas shopping (NO I’M NOT DONE YET), this room has been sorely neglected.

The breakfast dishes are scattered on both counters, so are lunch and snack dishes.  The table holds the remnants of the dinner meal (held at 8 pm) and on the stove is the mess that I made while cooking.  By mid-cleaning, I’m tired and ready for bed.  And then I see it.  The wax that covers the circular cheese that the kids ate for a snack has been squished into the grout on the floor.  It is mocking my ability to clean, making its bid for permanent residency.  I swear.  Loudly.  And then I hear hubby’s voice again, he’s laughing at me, at us.  Inviting people to speak about charity one minute, swearing the next. (read more…)

Announcing our Christmas thank you giveaway: comment between now and midnight December 24th, Utah time, and you could win a copy of The Mother in Me. Tell us why you read our blog, or why you want to win the book, or both.

And thank you for coming to our blog, for reading the journal (and The Mother in Me), and for being part of our community.