Miracles

How many miracles have you personally experienced in your life? In the last year? Today?

A recent post by Silly Marie has brought to my mind again just how many miracles I have been privileged to be witness to and personally experience over the course of my life. Here is how I might answer the questions I asked above, remembering, of course, that my human brain can't recall, or even comprehend, every miracle:

In my lifetime:

• that I am a part of a loving family who sincerely cares for me and my well-being;
• that I have received a wonderful and (almost) well-rounded education (I sadly did my best to avoid math at all costs, and for the most part truly succeeded);
• that I -- shy, timid, afraid-of-boys-in-general Lindsay -- actually got married.

In the last year:

• that I've adjusted so well to a move so far away from home;
• that the time has come, and circumstances are right, for Blake and I to finally get to start our family;
• that I have found several good friends and one incredibly good friend here in Muncie.

Today:

• that despite the fact that my work-day has dragged on extremely slowly, the hour between 2:00 and 3:00 passed by surprisingly quick making it more bearable;
• that out of the kindness of people I don't even know very well, I was lent several lovely items of maternity clothes;
• that my latest work project has helped me to jump a hurdle in my "fear of the telephone."
  

I have been blessed with big miracles, like the time I got a job just before our entire savings was depleted, or the time we learned that my miscarriage wasn't in fact viable. I have also been blessed with little miracles, like the fact that the sun came out today for the first time in a while, or that the city filled that nasty pothole on Tillotson Avenue.

The Lord works in His own time, and I've come to clearly recognize that. I've also come to learn that He requires faith which is both constant and as unwavering as possible. I do my best to give Him both, though it is not always easy. Sometimes I just want to throw my hands up into the air and ask, "Why must I keep waiting?" even though I know the answer to that question: that waiting helps me to grow, waiting helps me to be able to recognize the miracles when they come.

I agree with Silly Marie when she says that the Lord presents us with miracles when we most need to be reminded that He loves us and wants what's best for us, even if that means waiting on His time schedule. But such is indeed the nature of a miracle.

So apparently I'm starting to waddle.

At least, that's what Blake told me Sunday after he saw me walking towards him in the hall at church -- all in good humor, of course. But, yikes, I'm starting to look like a misproportioned, waddling pregnant woman? This strikes me as too early. Or maybe I can chalk it up to the fact that I felt pretty crummy on Sunday. Whatever. I'll have to just keep an eye on this.

I went back to the doctor yesterday, and everything is still looking good. It was reassuring to hear him tell me that, especially in light of the miscarriage trauma that we went through back in November and December. He said everything looks right on target. I couldn't be more pleased. The baby is getting bigger, as evidenced by my slowly-but-surely expanding mid-section, and the fact that last week I had to face up to the reality of that even though they're still a little baggy, if I want to be even remotely comfortable wearing clothes, they'll have to be in maternity sizes. Oh, and it still has a beautiful and fast little heartbeat.

The most exciting news, though, is that I now have an ultrasound scheduled. My doctor got me into the perinatal center at the hospital, so not only do I get to see an ultrasound view of the baby, I get to see it in either 3- or 4-D. How cool is that?! I remember back when I was in high school and those GE commercials advertising 3-D ultrasound technology started airing, I thought to myself, "Wow, I hope that by the time I have children I'll get to see them that clearly!" And look at this -- apparently I get to. Though, I have to admit I'm rather surprised that Muncie, of all places, has this sort of technology available. So anyway, March 19th is the day. Only two more weeks of waiting to have that visual proof that that this baby is using my bladder as a trampoline. If you feel so inclined, you are more than welcome to guess what you think the gender will be, but I want you to know up front that I won't be making any promises one way or the other as to whether or not you'll be right. After all, this little piece of information was decided on a while ago, and we're just now lucky enough to be privy to it. ;)

This just ruffles my feathers

Each fall, hoards of geese fly down from Canada to spend their winters here. (Why they think they'll be any warmer here than in Canada is anyone's guess.) They're beautiful birds, and they're everywhere this time of year. But apparently they're becoming a problem. The Indiana Department of Natural Resource, in partnership with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service has just made it very legal and very easy for property owners to destroy the eggs and nests of the geese to help control the population. All they have to do is apply online for a permit and they can destroy as many Canada goose eggs and nests as they want between March 1 and June 30.

Now, I'm not an extreme environmentalist by any means, but doesn't this seem a bit rash to anyone else but me? I know that geese are not by nature kind and cuddly creatures, and there are an awful lot of these surprisingly urban-loving, domesticated birds, but aren't there other ways to control where these geese lay their eggs? I just wonder if perhaps these geese-destroying measures will get out of control and before people realize it, more harm than good will have been done. And then casual bird watchers like myself won't have anything to ooh and aah over every winter.

So does this ruffle anyone else's feathers? If you want to read more than just my biased opinion, here's the article that was in the paper today.

...And in other feather ruffling news...the 5:30 news this evening reported something rather disturbing. [I'll wait for a moment whilst you glance through the article.] And now...what the heck? Why is it okay for two sixth graders (!!) to engage in illicit sexual activity in a classroom with witnesses and a teacher present (!!!) and then not do some suspending and/or firing? Or, for that matter, some official reporting of the incident? This happened months ago and school officials are still refusing to talk about it. What is wrong with this school district? This is just sick, that's what.

I think maybe I should stop reading the papers and watching the news. Good grief.

Dinner

We here at my house are all about quick, easy meals. Here is a recipe for a quick, easy (and very tasty) meal that I learned from a friend in my ward (and I suggest you listen up because everything this girl makes is amazing!):

Brown 1 lb hamburger; drain. Add 1 pkg taco seasoning, 1 can corn, 1 can black beans, 1 can chili beans, and 1 small or medium jar taco sauce. Simmer. Serve with corn chips.

(We like to eat it like a taco salad, with corn chips on the bottom, this mixture scooped on top, followed by layers of cheese, tomatoes, olives, avocado, lettuce, salsa, ranch, etc.)

I feel I must speak up for those who are afraid of beans, or corn, for that matter. As one who generally steers clear of things like beans (and sometimes corn), I think this dish is still delicious. It's like that bean blandness gets swallowed up in spicy and aromatic taco seasoning and taco sauce. So don't run from this one until you've tried it.

That is all. Now go eat.

My New Favorite Thing To Do:

Sometimes, if I sit real still and stare at my belly, I can not only feel the baby kick me, but I can see it, too.

"The love of learning, the sequestered nooks, and all the sweet serenity of books."

-- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I don’t think it would be too far-fetched to say that books make up an overwhelming percentage of who I am. I was very often read to as a child (thanks, Mom!); I spent my summers participating in the library summer reading programs; I spent another summer volunteering at the library; my favorite high school job was in a bookstore; I always have a “free-reading” book with me; I married a fellow book lover; we consequently own more books than shelf space; and I think an enlightened conversation somehow brings in a discussion about books. So, yesterday when Sara requested I compile a list of favorite recent reads, I pretty much jumped on the opportunity. I got a bit carried away, as you can see below. But even so, this list is anything but comprehensive. It includes some recent reads that I’ve enjoyed, as well as a bunch of you-can’t-go-wrong-with-‘em favorites. But I know I’m leaving armfuls of other books I’ve enjoyed off – I guess you have to draw the line somewhere, right? Anyway, thanks, Sara, for the excuse to think about favorite books.

Regional (i.e. Indiana) Favorites:

• A Girl Named Zippy: Growing Up Small in Mooreland, Indiana by Haven Kimmel
• She Got Up Off the Couch: And Other Heroic Acts from Mooreland, Indiana by Haven Kimmel
• In God We Trust, All Others Pay Cash by Jean Shepherd
• How Dear to My Heart by Emily Kimbrough
• The Innocents from Indiana by Emily Kimbrough
• Our Hearts Were Young and Gay by Cornelia Otis Skinner and Emily Kimbrough

Poetry I Couldn’t Live Without:

• The Collected Works of Edna St. Vincent Millay
• The Collected Works of e. e. cummings
• The Collected Works of Pablo Neruda
• Joyful Noise: Poems for Two Voices by Paul Fleischman
• Long Ago in Oregon by Claudia Lewis
• Reflections on a Gift of Watermelon Pickle and Other Modern Verse ed. by Stephen Dunning, Edward Lueders, and Hugh Smith
• Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman
• The Random House Book of Poetry for Children ed. by Jack Prelutsky and Arnold Lobel

You Can’t Go Wrong With Children’s Fiction:

• I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith
• Out of the Dust by Karen Smith
• The Betsy-Tacy series by Maud Hart Lovelace
• Princess Academy by Shannon Hale
• Walk Two Moons and Love That Dog by Sharon Creech
• The Trouble with Jenny’s Ear by Oliver Butterworth
• The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster
• Anything by Patricia MacLachlan (especially: Sarah, Plain and Tall; Skylark; Journey; and Baby)
• Anything by Beverly Cleary (especially: the Ramona series; the Henry Huggins series; Ellen Tebbits; and Otis Spofford)

Not All Non-Fiction is Boring:

• The Bronte’s: A Life in Letters ed. by Juliet Barker
• A Walk in the Woods: Rediscovering America on the Appalachian Trail by Bill Bryson
• The Radicalism of the American Revolution by Gordon S. Wood
• The Mother Tongue: English and How it Got that Way by Bill Bryson
• The Professor and the Madman: A Tale of Murder, Insanity, and the Making of the Oxford English Dictionary by Simon Winchester
• Reviving Ophelia: Saving the Selves of Adolescent Girls by Mary Pipher
• We Interrupt this Broadcast by Joe Garner

Also, Not All Classic Novels Are Boring:

• Anything by J. D. Salinger (including: Catcher in the Rye; Raise High the Roof Beam Carpenters/Seymour, an Introduction; Franny and Zooey; and Nine Stories)
• Rebecca by Daphne Du Marier
• Anything by a Bronte sister (especially: Jane Eyre (Charlotte); Wuthering Heights (Emily); and The Tenant of Wildfell Hall (Anne))
• Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald
• How Green Was My Valley by Richard Llewellyn
• Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury
• East of Eden by John Steinbeck
• A Room with a View by E. M. Forster

But I Don’t Just Enjoy “Old” Books:

• The Von Igelfeld series by Alexander McCall Smith (including: Portuguese Irregular Verbs; The Finer Points of Sausage Dogs; and At the Villa of Reduced Circumstances)
• The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger
• The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver

Personal Life-Long Favorites:

• A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and Joy in the Morning by Betty Smith
• To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
• Harriet the Spy by Louise Fitzhugh
• The View from Saturday by E. L. Konigsburg
• The Hundred Dresses by Eleanor Estes

Happy Reading!

I've been tagged!

I've been tagged for the first time ever. So, does this mean I'm popular now? Anyway, thanks Sarah!

1. Find the nearest book to you.
2. Name the book and author.
3. Turn to page 123.
4. Go to the fifth sentence on the page.
5. Copy out the next 3 sentences and post to your blog.
6. Tag someone else.

Let's see...

Ida B ... and Her Plans to Maximize Fun, Avoid Disaster, and (Possibly) Save the World
by Katherine Hannigan

I'd rush through my homework and lock myself in my room till dinner, then hurry through dishes and disappear till the next morning. I was working toward nothing less than the righting of wrongs, turning evil to good, and stopping the craziness that was steadily and surely taking over my valley. I was Ida B, Superhero Deluxe, Friend of the Downtrodden, Foe of Cancer, Meanness, Mindless Destruction, and Traditional Schooling.

I just started this book last night, and am not quite yet to page 123 (I'm on 109 of 246). Now, though, I'm intrigued and am looking forward to my lunch hour to find out what's going on. Sarah, I have to say, this book sounds a teensy bit more interesting than the one you were sitting next to. Children's fiction is where it's at. And Ida B is definitely a charming keeper.

Now who to tag? How about...AmyJane.

Very Short Stories

I've never been much of a fan of the writing of Ernest Hemingway. The Old Man and the Sea could have, in my opinion, been summed up in about 10 pages. The Sun Also Rises was clearly full of bullfighting symbolism -- none of which I understood. And I think the only reason I am not completely repulsed by A Farewell to Arms is because I'm rather fond of a "Why did the chicken cross the road?" joke that pokes fun at it (answer: "To die. In the rain."). Hemingway just doesn't do it for me.

But I discovered something this weekend that may have redeemed him (slightly) in my book. Apparently, according to The Internet, Hemingway was once challenged to write a short story, replete with all required story elements, in as few words as possible. This is what he came up with:

"For Sale: Baby shoes, never worn."

This, my friends, is six words of sheer brilliance. Of course, every time I read this six-word story, I get choked up. But maybe that's a sign of its genius. I don't know -- I'm not a literary critic by any means, and can't fully explain why this story is so good. But I can recognize that, wow: this is amazing!

I've long been a fan of short-short stories. I like to read them and I like to write them. When I was at BYU I saw one day, among the trillions of fliers adorning the hallway walls of the JKHB, an advertisement for an English department sponsored Short Short Story Contest. To enter, all you had to do was write a story, making sure to include all story elements, on one or both sides of a 3.5-inch index card. I took up the challenge and entered a 100-word story I called "Paper Snowflakes":

They were making paper snowflakes to decorate the classroom for Christmas. “I want this room covered in snow,” Mrs. Peterson said.

So they set to work with white paper, red paper, green paper, and scissors. They sat four to a table. Angie made beautifully symmetrical snowflakes, but Josh’s didn’t look like snowflakes at all.

“Here, Josh, let me show you how it’s done,” said Angie.

Ignoring Angie, Josh continued to cut his into strangely shaped bits of paper.

“It’s really not that hard,” said Angie.

“I don’t care,” said Josh. He hung them up anyway.

They looked very festive indeed.

To my surprise, I won 3rd place -- and a $10 gift card to Barnes and Noble.

Since then, I've dabbled now and again in this short-short story writing (which is also called "flash fiction," or stories up to 2000 words, and "drabble," or stories that are exactly 100 words). Part of me wants to try my hand at this short-short story writing again. I enjoy this style because it's both simple and challenging to write. It's intensely satisfying to me to feel that surge of energy as I spit out, as succinctly as possible, a complete story. And it's a nice, little writing exercise that can be done with even only a small amount of time. The trouble that I tend to come across is that most of what I come up with seems very insignificant because it really has no point. So maybe someday I'll come up with something profound like Ernest Hemingway did. But in the meantime, I guess I'll just stick with my stories on mundane topics like making paper snowflakes.

Mutual Love

If, as an adult, you ever get the chance to watch the Young Men and the Young Women flirt with each other at a joint mutual activity, I highly suggest you jump on it. Because it's really, really, really funny.

Only then it gets a teeny tiny bit embarrassing as you remember that this was you and the youth in your ward only ten years ago.

But let's not dwell on awkward memories. Let's instead focus on what just might become the awkward memories of my ward's youth of last night's mutual activity.

You might recall that last Wednesday we were trying to dig ourselves out of a blizzard, and because we were all pretty much snow-bound, the Valentine's Day mutual activity the Young Men were planning for the Young Women had to be postponed. So last night all the boys finally got the chance to woo all the girls -- and with their priesthood leader's blessing to boot.

The activity was supposed to be a surprise for the girls. But after the Bishop announced in Young Women's on Sunday that the girls should not eat dinner before coming to said surprise activity, we all kind of had to raise our eyebrows.

And as we gathered in the Relief Society room for opening exercises, we chuckled approvingly as the Young Men marched in wearing suits and ties. And I, for one, laughed outright when the Young Men's President informed the girls that they were to sit at a seat in the cultural hall marked "F" for "Female" and Brady said "You mean, "F" for "Freaking Hot!"

In the dimly-lit cultural hall we were all ceremoniously waited on by the priests, while the teachers saw to it that we had water to drink, and the deacons passed out silverware and napkins. We then dined "romantically" on plates of pasta and sides of salad and garlic bread, and a dessert choice of carrot cake or pink cake a la mode. And meanwhile I watched the myriad of flirtatious comments and high-pitched giggles (which came, I feel the need to add, from the girls and the boys) going on around me. All hormone levels were happily high and smiles and pink cheeks abounded. It was really quite glorious. (Or embarrassing, depending on your point of view.)

As I drove home, I couldn't help but sigh in immense pleasure at the fact that I am no longer a soul-mate searching, twitterpated pubescent. It's reassuring to every once in a while be given a handful of good, solid proof that those days really do come to an end.

Tuesday

If my day yesterday was like Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, my day today has been rather like Tuesday:



...Only without the flying frogs.

Seriously, though -- it's been a strange day. Unusual. Abnormal. A little odd. But not terrible, horrible, no good, or very bad, thank heavens. And I think it started with the bizarre dream I had last night.

I dreamt that my brother, Riley, who it should be noted is 1) not yet married, and 2) is a BOY, was pregnant and due two days after me. He spent the majority of my dream showing off his expanding mid-section (while sporting his favorite pair of comfortable green scrubs), much to the annoyance of both his fiancee and myself. And it wasn't just his highfalutin tendencies that bothered me. It was the dramatic competition the whole affair naturally developed into. I mean -- whose baby would be born first? It couldn't very well be his because I, after all, am nearly four years older than him!

Anyway, very weird. I think I can safely label this one as a Crazy Pregnancy Dream, and it can go down in the books as the first baby-related one I've had (crazy dreams have never been a rare thing for me). Up 'til now it seemed that everyone else was having the crazy pregnancy dreams: Blake had one, my mom had one. But now I've had one, too. How...fulfilling (?).

So if a dream like that started off my day, it's only to be expected that the rest of my day would be filled with flying frog-like abnormalities. Here are a few:

• It's warm outside. We're supposed to reach a high today of 46 degrees. This, my friends, is what I, after experiencing several consecutive weeks of temperatures well below freezing, like to call "tropical." And tropical weather in Indiana in February is nigh unto unheard of.
  
• I was a solid 10 minutes early to work today. Ten minutes early! Normally, it's a scramble to get out the door each morning, resulting in my sliding into the office at roughly 8:01... or thereabouts.
• We are going to see a play tonight. Jane Eyre, to be precise. This is unusual for two reasons: 1) it's the first play I'll have gone to in, oh, a few years (the only "culture" we tend to associate ourselves with these days can be checked out for free at the library), and 2) the only showing of this play is not on a weekend night, but on a Tuesday night (Muncie must be low priority on the touring schedule).

Anybody else having a Tuesday-like Tuesday?