a little bird once told me...

Every spring a mommy bird comes to our backyard and builds a nest on a small ledge high on the patio.
She works hard.
Back and forth she flys bringing a twig, string, feather or whatever else she feels will make a comfortable home for her soon to arrive little one.
It's an interesting process to watch.
I've seen her move one twig multiple times until she finally lets it be.
No wondering they call the final weeks of a pregnancy "nesting".

Once the baby's crib is finished to her satisfaction, the mommy-to-be will settle down and wait.

Soon the baby bird makes his appearence. 

After lots of attention and care the mommy will leave the baby to find nourishment.

Her first instinct...feed my baby.

It always surprises me that once the feeding begins it is not much longer until the mommy coaxes her baby from the safety of the nest.  She leads by example and soon her baby follows her to the edge and then she teaches her little one to spread his wings.

And then the once carefully constructed nest is empty.

I enjoy watching the process every spring.

I feel the mother in me relates to the mommy bird in many ways.

Build a home that is safe and comfortable.

Feed my babies - physically, mentally, spiritually.

Bring them to the edge, give them three squeezes of the hand and then watch them fly.

The process happens so quickly.

It stings my heart.

A refreshing monsoon...

On May 9th the rain came down.
It nearly flooded the back patio.

Buckets were falling from my roof top.
Usually the kids want to be out and play in this stuff but today they watched from inside.

Proof that water does come to quench the desert.

Progress...

photo here

I found this picture of the Angel Moroni arriving on site at the Gilbert Temple.  There was no announcement made (on purpose) of when it would arrive at the temple grounds but it looks like it came yesterday.  I thought it was amazing to compare the size of Moroni next to the workers.

I can't wait to get over there and see if for myself.

As for my personal progress in preparation for the trek...

Physically I have been keeping up with my walking and no soda.  Well, let me clarify the no soda thing.  In my home I have not had any soda.  I did have some when I went to lunch with Brent on his birthday last week and another time while I was out running errands I did partake.  My walking came to a stand still last week on Wednesday night when my throat started really hurting and waking up on Thursday I thought I'd like to cut my head off my my shoulders.  I took a percocet and used my oils liberally for the next three days to get through work and the days events and responsibilities.  It took a slight edge off but I truly can't remember hurting so much.  I could feel the pain all the way into my ears.  After getting no sleep on Saturday night I woke up Sunday (mother's day) and went to urgent care.  I was waiting at their doors when they opened.

Diagnosis...Strep throat.

Crazy!  I can't think of the last time I had strep.  Y E A R S ago for sure.

Anyway, thank goodness for the power of modern medicine.  After two days of antibiotics I am, thankfully, feeling so much better.

So that was the long way around to say that I haven't been walking as of last Thursday but plan to get back to it tomorrow.  Happy day : )

I have thought a lot about how easy it is to take my day to day good health for granted.

I go to bed, wake up, go about my day.  I go, go, go.  Form here to there.  To this thing and and then that thing.  I express my gratitude for a healthy body in my prayers but probably more out of routine than realization.  Myself and my little family are truly blessed to be healthy and not have any out of the ordinary illnesses that we have had to deal with.  A cold here, allergies there and the flu on occasion.  We truly are blessed.  As I've said my prayers over the past few days, my expression of thankfulness for my health is sincere and heartfelt. 

I am still reading and wondering with awe at the many stories I come across in regards to the early saints and my own pioneering ancestors.  It fills my heart to overflowing.  How did they do it with raging sore throats?  And that seems insignificant to know that it was much worse.  I found a journal entry about my Grandpa Willie.  I did not correct any spelling or punctuation...

"November 2, 1856 - Bros. Willie, Woodward, & Christiansen staid behind to bring up the sick. This morning we had not teams enough to haul the feeble that were left behind. After a short time several teams came on from the Valley & picked up the sick. The brethren that staid behind were late into camp. Bro. Willie’s feet were in such a bad condition from frost that he was unable to walk to the Camp; a wagon was sent for him."

And another comment stated this...

"This entry noted that President Willie and two other men stayed behind to help the sick. There appears to have been trouble getting everyone into a wagon. Through all they had experienced, President Willie kept leading and helping his company, although frostbite was taking its toll on him and he was having a difficult time walking."

Thank you Grandpa Willie for your faith, your courage and your testimony of our Savior Jesus Christ that kept you moving ever onward, ever forward.

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Trek is only 15 days away.

Preparing both in body and mind...

Day three was a repeat of day one and two.
Day four I mixed it up a bit and did a 20 minute Turbo Jam workout.
You know...one of those cheesy DVD workouts that I bought probably 9 years ago after I had Cooper.
Still no soda and that may prove to be the toughest challenge of all.

One of my favorite parts of all this preparing is reading so much about James G Willie, captain of the Willie Handcart Company.  He is my grandpa a few generations back.  Reading one thing leads me to another thing, then another link to another link.  Truly...the hearts of the children turning to their fathers is a beautiful thing.

photo here

*note the spelling of his last name is different in the photo than most records that mention him and the company.  it may have changed when he came to America (from England) at the age of 21*

Here is just one story I recently read as told by Betsy Smith Goodwin, a member of the Willie Handcart Company...

I will not dwell upon the hardships we endured, nor the hunger and cold, but I like to tell of the goodness of God unto us. One day, especially, stands out from among the remainder. The wind blew fresh, as if its breezes came from the sea. It kept blowing harder until it became fierce. Clouds arose, the thunder and lightning were appalling. Even the ox teams ahead refused to face the storm. Our captain, who always rode a mule, dismounted and stepped into the middle of the road, bared his head to the storm, and every man, as he came up, stood by him with bared head—one hundred carts, their pullers and pushers, looking to their captain for counsel. The captain said, “Let us pray.” And there was offered such a prayer! He told the Lord our circumstances, he talked to God, as one man talks to another, and as if the Lord was very near. I felt that he was; and many others felt the same. Then the storm parted to the right and to the left! We hurried on to camp, got our tents pitched, and some fires built, when the storm burst in all its fury!

journal excerpt here

I'm grateful to know that Grandpa Willie was a man who knew God and spoke to him in prayer like he would speak to a friend standing beside him.

Day two...

Seriously.  Two consecutive days.
I feel good about that.

Walk - 38 minutes.
then
20 jumping jacks.
15 lunges (oh. my. i. am. sore)
10 push ups.
each x 3
and
no soda.

This makes me feel good because when I'm out on my little walking route I'm getting passed by moms with babies in strollers and old men walking their dogs.
But hey!  I'm better off than those on the couch : )

Carry on!