A friendly visit...

It was wonderful to have Carrie come and visit.  Of course she brought along her family, minus their oldest son who is a brand new missionary in Washington D.C.  I have pictures of him holding Maddison as a newborn.  We go back a long way...all the way to 1967 when Carrie and I were both in the womb of our respective mothers who were next door neighbors and wonderful friends. We emerged only about 4 weeks apart from one another and have remained best of friends.

To keep the love flowing, our daughters were born only about 6 weeks apart.

They have remained wonderful friends despite the miles.

We enjoyed a girls lunch, family dinners, lots of laughs, an over the top chocolate birthday cake (just for Carrie who loves her some chocolate) and a visit to the Mesa temple to see the Easter pageant.

It was a wonderful visit.  Lasting friendships are a priceless gift.  We should celebrate those relationships often!

Speaking of celebrating relationships...

I love this girl more than words can express.

(let's ignore the fact that I don't know how to spell pageant. although I just did spell it correctly, I didn't when I was editing my pictures.  oh well)

A walk to remember...

I spent a day with my adorable boy.
At nine years old he may cringe at the words "adorable boy" but secretly I know every child loves affirmation. 

I was able to chaperone a recent 3rd grade field trip to the Riparian Preserve.  We walked from the school all the way to the park.  In the cool of the morning it was a pleasant walk, although not a short distance, and I smiled as Cooper and his friends laughed and threw rocks and tried real hard to be cool.

They dug up some artifacts and listened to some interesting stories about our Arizona history.

They learned about the reproductive system of the flower world.

And as the day grew warmer, they enjoyed the stream and facts about the Riparian preserving the precious water of our desert.

The walk home wasn't filled with nearly as much laughter.
They were hot and wanted my one bottle of water.
I showed my preserving skills as I rationed one 16 oz. (not entirely full) bottle of water between 5 hot, tired and thirsty boys. 

My days of joining my children for elementary field trips are getting fewer and fewer.
I say that with a heartfelt sigh...
Sigh of relief as I realize my 45 year old body doesn't bounce back like it used to.
(I'm not going to mention here about what shape I'm in)
But mostly a sigh of many happy memories...
Dinosaur museums, rock museums, art museums, plays, parks, zoo trips, Stuffington Bear factory, science centers and the such.


Sometimes being the mom is hard on the heart.
Sigh...

My turn...

It's been a long while since I took the time to do my own nails.
It was fun and Maddison approved of the results ~ which is sayin' something!
Brent will smile too : )

We needed this last week...

Thank goodness for opportunities to kick back, listen to some tunes and get some sun.

It's good for the soul : )

Turning 45 was easy...

...especially when you can indulge in this chocolate heaven to end the celebration in grand fashion!


Thanks for making my birthday cake Sis! 

When a boy has his heart set on only one thing...

For about a whole month prior to Cooper's birthday there was a note on the fridge that said,
"The ONLY thing I want for my birthday is the cool bow at Bass Pro!"

So being the overly freaky parent that I am,
Brent took him to get fitted for the rig and I tagged along with my heart a bit shaky.

We met Stan.
If you ever find yourself a bit freaky about arming your baby with a weapon capable of bringing down a big deer, you must meet Stan. 

Cooper was measured and his strength tested and then he listened and learned.
He took everything very serious.  So serious, in fact, I wondered where his smile had gone!
Stan was so professional and treated Cooper like a fine young man that was ready for this step.
(I, on the other hand, still had a shaky heart)  

 

 

Once the bow was fit to Cooper like a glove, Stan took him into the shooting range where he could practice.

Again, Cooper watched and followed everything Stan said.

 

 

 

Then Coop went to work on his own.

 

 

Finally when we walked away and Cooper had the bow and all the other equipment in his hands, I saw what I was looking for... 

...the smile of my boy.
I'm telling ya...any mother's baby turning nine will break her heart to pieces.


Happy Birthday my mighty little man!

Back in November of 2010...

 ...we broke ground for the construction of a new temple.

The Gilbert Arizona Temple.
Just 7 minutes from our front door.

We took Cooper's baptism invite picture here.

I felt the significance of the foundation of the temple and Cooper starting his life as a baptized member of the church.

   

Coming along a year later December 2011...

And again in March 2012...

 Our Stake Presidency introduced a theme when the ground breaking occurred...

"Building a temple.  Building a people."

It reminds me of words from a favorite primary song...

"I wonder when He comes again,

Will I be ready there

 To look upon his loving face

And join with him in prayer?

Each day I'll try to do his will

And let my light so shine

That others seeing me may seek

For greater light divine.

Then when that blessed day is here,

He'll love me and he'll say

'You've served me well, my little child;

Come into my arms to stay.' "

 

How sipping a soda helped me share my testimony...

Before I went to work the other day, Brent treated me to an icy cold fountain soda.  It was lovely so I took it to work with me.

Sitting at the table in the work room, I was sipping my icy cold refreshment when one of the darling ladies looked at me with surprised worry and asked, "are you drinking soda?"

With the straw still between my lips I answered, "do you not want me to drink soda?"

She continued in a hushed voice, "i didn't think you could drink soda."

And at that I smiled, parted my hair and revealed my horns : )

Really though, it led to a great and somewhat lengthy discussion. Finally I said, "If you really desire answers to your questions I'm ready whenever you are."

I took a sip of my soda, scratched my horns and went off to my little first grade kiddos feeling grateful for my own answered questions.

Worth my time ~ again and again...

The BYU magazine that we receive each month always has some great stuff inside.

Interesting facts, funny stories, inspiring talks and so on but about a month ago Brent brought a certain article to my attention.  I'm so glad he did.  I am going to use this when it's my turn to for the lesson in FHE.  I'm going to give a copy of it to Sis and D and ask them to read it before hand. For Cooper, we'll read together and I'll talk him through it.

His Grace Is Sufficient , written by Bradley Wilcox has been my source of reading lately.  I've read it over and over.  Probably about five or six times now.  It is the absolutely BEST article written about the Atonement of our Savior. At least for me.

It is so worth while and speaks truth so clearly.  The first time I read it I was excited!  It felt so good to read and think to myself "wow!  this is amazing!"  And even better to read it a second time and think "truth is clear and simple".  Each time I read it I am able to feel the Comforter speaking peace, truth and hope to my heart.  There are so many little tidbits in it that I love, like the story right at the beginning...

A BYU student once came to me and asked if we could talk. I said, “Of course. How can I help you?”

She said, “I just don’t get grace.”

I responded, “What is it that you don’t understand?”

She said, “I know I need to do my best and then Jesus does the rest, but I can’t even do my best.”

She then went on to tell me all the things she should be doing because she’s a Mormon that she wasn’t doing.

She continued, “I know that I have to do my part and then Jesus makes up the difference and fills the gap that stands between my part and perfection. But who fills the gap that stands between where I am now and my part?”

She then went on to tell me all the things that she shouldn’t be doing because she’s a Mormon, but she was doing them anyway.

Finally I said, “Jesus doesn’t make up the difference. Jesus makes all the difference. Grace is not about filling gaps. It is about filling us.”

Seeing that she was still confused, I took a piece of paper and drew two dots—one at the top representing God and one at the bottom representing us. I then said, “Go ahead. Draw the line. How much is our part? How much is Christ’s part?”

She went right to the center of the page and began to draw a line. Then, considering what we had been speaking about, she went to the bottom of the page and drew a line just above the bottom dot.

I said, “Wrong.”

She said, “I knew it was higher. I should have just drawn it, because I knew it.”

I said, “No. The truth is, there is no line. Jesus filled the whole space. He paid our debt in full. He didn’t pay it all except for a few coins. He paid it all. It is finished.”

She said, “Right! Like I don’t have to do anything?”

“Oh no,” I said, “you have plenty to do, but it is not to fill that gap. We will all be resurrected. We will all go back to God’s presence. What is left to be determined by our obedience is what kind of body we plan on being resurrected with and how comfortable we plan to be in God’s presence and how long we plan to stay there.”

The talk goes on with an analogy, using piano lessons as its subject and it makes perfect sense to me.  Even if you or your children have never taken lessons, the point is very clear and a perfect parallel to what you may do in your family.  At the end of this analogy he teaches...

 Put simply, if Jesus didn’t require practice, then we would never become pianists.

The last section of the talk is titled Christ's Grace is Sufficient to Help Us.  It is so clear and easy to understand.  Brother Wilcox said...

I wrote him back and testified with all my heart that Christ is not waiting at the finish line once we have done “all we can do” (2 Nephi 25:23). He is with us every step of the way.

Am I the only one that at times sees the plan as a journey with Jesus Christ standing at the "finish line" cheering me on?  I know my Savior is with me along the way but sometimes in my mortal mind this is how I saw it.  While reading and learning and being taught by the Spirit through this talk, that image has been taken from my mind. 

Towards the end there is a part where he talks about the pioneers and the arduous journey that was continually in front of them and how they sang and understood the words of "Grace shall be as your day".

“Grace shall be as your day”—what an interesting phrase. We have all sung it hundreds of times, but have we stopped to consider what it means? “Grace shall be as your day”: grace shall be like a day. As dark as night may become, we can always count on the sun coming up. As dark as our trials, sins, and mistakes may appear, we can always have confidence in the grace of Jesus Christ. Do we earn a sunrise? No. Do we have to be worthy of a chance to begin again? No. We just have to accept these blessings and take advantage of them. As sure as each brand-new day, grace—the enabling power of Jesus Christ—is constant. Faithful pioneers knew they were not alone. The task ahead of them was never as great as the power behind the them.

I'm excited that Brent and I are going to be serving as Ma and Pa on the trek for our Stake in May.  We plan to use that in our devotionals with our "family".  : )

Brother Wilcox ends his talk with truth so pure and hope so real that is pierces my soul each time I read the words...

 I testify that God’s grace is sufficient. Jesus’ grace is sufficient. It is enough. It is all we need. Oh, young people, (and might I add everyone else too!) don’t quit. Keep trying. Don’t look for escapes and excuses. Look for the Lord and His perfect strength. Don’t search for someone to blame. Search for someone to help you. Seek Christ, and, as you do, I promise you will feel the enabling power we call His amazing grace. I leave this testimony and all of my love—for I do love you. As God is my witness, I love the youth of this church. I believe in you. I’m pulling for you. And I’m not the only one. Parents are pulling for you, leaders are pulling for you, and prophets are pulling for you. And Jesus is pulling with you.

I know that I have practically copied the entire talk right here but I hope you'll follow the link and read the words...take the time to feel and learn from them as I did.  I am in no way saying that I completely understand the Atonement of my Savior.  That is something I will continue to seek for and learn of throughout my life but I know I was meant to read and reread this talk at this time in my life.  Our testimonies grow and are strengthened at different times for different reasons.  I'm extremely grateful to ponder the things that I'm doing and/or could be doing better.  Understanding this and working at it will bring me to where I want to be...

back with my Heavenly Father and Savior and to feel comfortable and at home in their presence.

Why pinterest works...

Because when someone pins a smart and/or fantastic idea a friend may repin it and then you end up with darling/clever ideas like this on your front door step!

I can hardly wait for the party to see what other fabulous ideas she uses!



Oh wait!  The invite wasn't  for me, it was for Cooper.  Dang!  Maybe I'll have to use my invisibility cloak to watch undetected.

Nails and other nonsense...

Maddison loves to have her nails done.  So do I , although I don't take much time on mine any more.  I used be a nail tech and spent many hours on my nails.  That's one of things that Brent noticed (and liked) about me on our blind date.  When I do take the time to fuss over my nails, he notices and it makes me glad I did it.
Maddie and I share other common factors...like how we enjoy jewelry, chocolate, shoes, a good book, music, a chick flick, carbs, our boys (dad, davis, coop), the dbacks, family vacations, laughing, our interest in pinterest and the list goes on.
I should make a list of what makes us different...like she CAN NOT stand to have someone touch her feet.  Me, on the other hand, I LOVE to have my feet rubbed - anytime, anywhere!  But that's a list for another day : )
Maddie saw this fun paint pattern on Pinterest and we decided to give it a try.
I think they turned out darling.
Forgive my shaky hand and the fact that I was using a paint brush to draw on the lines and laces but all it all we really liked the finished product.
I'm going to get the striping tape to make this easier next time.
Funny thing...I used that tape all the time when I was Maddie's age to create fun designs on my own nails.
I've always said the 80's were awesome!!!

Love sick??

I try to make the time I spend on Pinterest "productive".
So I found this idea and decided instead of just pinning it and saying "hmm...that's cute" - that I'd actually follow through and create it for my family.


For Valentine's week...

I love being productive : )

Love at home...

Here's a little of the love around here...



The little hearts frame holds a picture of a pink and purple heart that Maddison drew and colored for me for Valentine's day when she was three and a half.  It has remained in this frame ever since.

I'm a romantic for the old fashioned doily hearts.  I like to put them everywhere.
They remind me of a simpler time (that sounds like I'm oh so old) but I do remember these little lace-like hearts adorning the big kitchen window of my childhood home.
It's a happy memory.

When I turned my calendar on January 31st, this is the darling picture that greeted me for February.
The little boy burying his face in his hands over his mom and dad's romantic display is the cutest!
I heart Mary Engelbreit.

I made these X's and O's last year.  Chipboard letters, covered with scrapbook paper, then mod podge and some ribbon.  I like to put them right by the baby pictures that I can't seem to take down.  Sigh...

I love subway art.  Here is one of my favorite places to download it.

I am also a romantic for old fashioned Valentine cards.

So sweet and lovely.

I think this will be a project for next year...print off these little darlings, mat and frame then set on my piano.

I'm down to just one child that exchanges Valentine cards with classmates.  I'm mixed between feeling happy and sad about that : )
Here is mine and Cooper's project this year.  These little tags attached to BLOW POP suckers.
I tried to convince him to do bubblegum and chocolate kisses with a tag that said "Blowing you a kiss, Valentine!"  But he wouldn't hear of it. 

Here's to love!

Superbowl sweetness...

Although the Superbowl doesn't cause me to loose any sleep, I do enjoy a good lazy Sunday afternoon with yummy treats to indulge in.

Today we are diving into this...

Yeah!  I know!!  It's so easy.  Layer your favorite chocolate chip cookie dough on the bottom, cover with double stuff oreos then a layer of box brownie mix.  I can taste the calories already but sometimes life calls for a celebration.


Recipe and photo from kevinandamanda.com  Check it out here!  Because I know you'll want to give it a try too!

Go Giants!  Not that I know one thing about the Giants other than one of the Manning brothers is the quarterback and he seems nice : )

Mr.Know It All...

 Kelly Clarkson has a great album out right now.  On it is a single titled Mr. Know It All.
I love it.  The words, the sound, the beat and the way she sings it...with attitude.

That has nothing to do with this post other than the fact that Brent is a Mr. Know It All when it comes to me and gently coaxing me away from the edge of the cliff called "I Can't Do One More Thing".

As was the case mid December when I was vicariously teetering on the cliff's edge.

He could of said something like "hey, i'm stressed out too" or "you're not the only one who is feeling tapped out right now" he instead steadied my slipping feet by placing a little something on my pillow one night.  It read:

On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me...
a box of See's candy.

And so began my very own 12 Days of Christmas.
From him. To me.

I cried.
Of course. 
It just meant so much to me that he would rescue me and help me enjoy my December.

Instead of four callings birds, I got a red angry bird!


and instead of 9 ladies dancing, I got a little penguin dancing.

I keep this in my kitchen window.  He is powered by the sun so he wobbles side to side all the day long.  He makes me smile.

As does my Mr. Know It All : )

the story of the fudge...

My mom was very ill at the time and I was looking for her fudge recipe. Not looking really as much as frantically searching. I had called my aunts and uncles that I thought might have it but nothing came up.  Could I have gone throughout my life without writing this one down? It was no where to be found in my mom's recipe files. Believe me...I had repeatedly flipped through the cards in  those little boxes!

You see, my mom had a knack for making fudge and I was responsible for passing it along so that generation after generation would know it's dreaminess. Why hadn't I paid closer attention when it counted?? Now I was desperate and felt I had let her down.

Nobody could copy my mom's fudge. It was her trademark and if you were lucky enough to receive some as a gift, usually during the holidays, it meant she loved you.

A lot.

She learned from her dad.  My grandpa.  I sure loved my grandpa.  He was a master at many things.  One of them being fudge, another being a gardener of flowers and vegetables, another being a raiser of mighty fine pigs, another being an artist with oils, or wood or what have you, another being good with a gun and another being so wonderful to my grandma. And the list goes on.


But I remember standing beside my mom many a time and watching the process unfold and being told that the tradition of this fudge would fall to me to learn and carry on.  She may have told my brothers the same thing but the importance rang in my ears and heart.  It was special and made with great care. The sugars were cooked to the perfect softball stage. Not determined by a candy thermometer, mind you, but detected by dropping a spoonful of the molten liquid into a cup of cold water and then manipulating it into a chocolate drop of melting fudge. Mom would set the cooled soft candy on my tongue and ask if I could taste the exact depth of chocolate and feel that the sugars had dissolved. I don't think I was paying attention to any of that stuff. I was just in it for the yummy gooey drop of warm chocolate in my mouth! ( I think I took turns with my brothers but I might have been selfish : ) It was no easy task but my mom was perfect at it and then she would take the boiling confection off the stove and pour it onto a perfectly chilled marble slab that had been sitting out on the back porch so as to stay cool until the moment she needed it. She would then beat it with a wooden spatula that my grandpa had made especially for the job of beating warm, soft chocloate into smooth and dreamy fudge. When the shine was gone from the surface it was ready to be shaped into long rolls that she stretched with the ease of an expert fudge maker along a piece of wax paper. While the fudge set, she would give me and my brothers a table knife to scrap the leftovers off the marble slab.
Mmmmm...that was so good!  Maybe the memory now, more so than the fudge itself.

Nah...it was definately the fudge.

I have the tools that my mom used.  Her slab and spatula.  Now I just need to learn the trade.

I've tried once.  It didn't work.  It was a disaster actually.


I'll try again.

Somehow I think no matter how proficient I become at fudge on a marble slab it will fail to compare to the delicious bite of chocolate that was made by her.

But to have her recipe, found by my sweet Aunt Karleen, really takes the cake!

Going about doing good...

"God knows that some of the greatest souls who have ever lived are those who will never appear in the chronicles of history. They are the blessed, humble souls who emulate the Savior’s example and spend the days of their lives doing good."   ~Dieter F. Uchtdorf 

My Aunt Karleen was one of these blessed, humble souls.  She was just a tiny lady but full of warm kindness and genuine love for all those that crossed her way.
I was lucky enough to spend a couple of my young summers in her home.  Being the only girl in my family, it was always a great adventure to join my aunt and uncle's family where I instantly gained two sisters; Melanie and Maree.  Melanie, just younger than me and Maree young enough that I remember carrying her around on my hip.  I remember spending summer days soaking in the Dixie sun, playing on the back balcony for hours, watching fireworks from the top of the red rocks and getting my first stitches in my elbow from a fall in the back of Uncle Val's pickup truck.  I remember Aunt Karleen caring for me like one of her own seven.  Eventually she brought eight beautiful babies into this world and I thought her to be an elect woman for all she embodied.  I remember whole wheat pancakes with a yummy apple topping and homemade granola that beat everything else.  Eating healthy and seeing that her children did as well was a speciality of hers but I remember Uncle Val sneaking us out for a chocolate shake on a few occasions too!  I remember the matching dresses she sewed for Melanie and I ~ kelly green fabric with white ric rac sewn down the front.  I have a picture...I must find it : )  Thinking of it now fills my heart with tender memories of a such a lovely lady.  Even as I grew and became a wife a mother myself, it wasn't uncommon for the phone to ring and then hear her sweet voice on the other end just to check in and see how the family was doing.  Inevitably, she would put me on speaker phone so both she and Uncle Val could chat together and mention of a chocolate shake would somehow become part of the conversation.  I always hung up the phone smiling and being extremely grateful.

About two and half years ago, June of 2009 to be exact, I got an email from my Aunt Karleen.  She had found something I had been seeking.  Something of a treasure.  Her email was a follows...

Dearest Andrea,

Please read this all before screaming.  Now I know you will love me forever.  I was looking for a recipe ( my recipes are as disorganized as my mothers were and maybe someday I will do something about that!)
Guess what I found?
I'm sending the attachment so you can't see it right now.
I changed my mind.
Here it is:

(a recipe followed here)

The recipe title on my card is Aunt Joan's Fudge.

Love,
Aunt Karleen

The story of the fudge is a story of it's own but to have the recipe was a miracle.  It was an emotional time for me.  I knew I was losing my mom and trying to hang onto anything about her, of her or by her was important to me.  Aunt Karleen found the recipe I had been searching for just five months before my mom passed away.  That will always mean so much to me.

Aunt Karleen and I shared an email just the day before her own passing.  I'll be forever grateful that we were able to share that last expression of our love for each other, without knowing what the following day would bring.  And understanding my mom was waiting with open arms to welcome her home was a joyful moment to ponder.

I love you Aunt Karleen.  Now you and mom get busy going about doing good, after all, you are both so good at it : ) 

Colors of a new year...

Growing up in Utah brought the changes of the seasons and I looked forward to seeing the world, at least my little piece of the world, take on a new face.

The first fluttering snowflakes of winter.

The courageous little crocus flowers peeking up through the late March snowfall meant spring was on it's way.

Feeling the warm sprinkle of sun on my face meant a beautiful summer and

then the evenings would turn crisp and the leaves would color my backyard with shades of red, orange and yellow.

I love the seasons.  I miss them.

Living here in Arizona has meant giving up some of that.

Seasons exist it's just that it isn't happening right outside my front door.

We have to drive a couple hours north to find the snow or the really significant fall colors.

And identifying spring and summer as separate seasons really doesn't happen.  They melt together.

On my little street there a very few trees that actually change colors.  I think I can count two.

But one of them IS right out my front door.

I like to think it was meant to be.

And it makes me smile.  Especially when the sky is so beautifully blue behind it.

Every January for the past 11 1/2 years, this yellow beauty reminds me of a couple things...

1. Time to let go of yesterday's sorrows but hold close the joys that blessed my days.

2. Heavenly Father has a truly beautiful painter's palette.