final thoughts

And here we are, the end of October with far fewer than 31 posts about contented living. This topic certainly has more facets to explore, but today I'll leave you with a thought that's been settling in me all month.

One of my friends commented on a post earlier in this series joking about how maybe I could divulge the key to contented living. The thing is that everyone's contented life will look different. What makes me content is different from what makes you content. And that's okay. The key, though, is simple. The secret is one that we all must discover on our own before true contented living is possible.

{If we are to live a contented life, we must listen to God to know when to move and when to rest.}

A contented life is one inextricably tied up with trust in the Savior. A contented life is defined by our relationship with our Heavenly Father, because the more we come to know Him and how He speaks to us, the better we can discern when to move and when to rest.

Contented living is as much about growth and evolution and change as it is about acceptance and peace and stillness. The key is knowing how to balance it, and the key to balance is Jesus Christ. I know that not all my readers believe what I do, and I hope I'm not alienating anyone by being so forthright. The truth is that everything meaningful and good in my life--contented or otherwise--exists because the Savior, and I can't pretend otherwise. The way I live my life is inexorably connected to my relationship with God, and I'm not going to hide that from you. 

I hope that as you go through your days that you can find manifestations of Heavenly Father's love for you, because it is real and unending and powerful (even if you're not sure He exists at all). I hope that you can find contentment within that love, that you can find peace and purpose, direction and motivation. A contented life is one wherein we relinquish control in favor of faith in One who knows us and loves us. Contentment is knowing and embracing that we are small yet important, weak yet bursting with powerful potential.

Thank you for following along this somewhat inconsistent series. I'll be back sometime in November with a good list post for you!

This post is part of a 31-day series on contented living. You can find the other posts here.

on knowing and not knowing

As a Mormon, I've witnessed plenty of publicized drama surrounding my church during the past several months. I have my own opinions about the movements and the activism that I'll sum up quickly: I don't agree with the activism, though I do wholeheartedly agree that it's okay to have questions and doubts. However--the ways in which we ask are just as important as the questions themselves. And that's probably where I part most from these more public seekers.

News about church disciplinary actions have been making their swift way through my social media feeds, and I have many feelings about it all. Mostly, I'm sad. I'm sad when one's seeking leads them down a hard road, when the men and women who surround them abandon them and draw lines in the sand. I'm sad when one's seeking leads others away from a gospel whose message is Come and join with us. I'm sad when the fallibility of members is confused with the doctrine of Christ. I'm sad when I see such division in a faith that has the potential to enjoy so much unity.

I don't have all the answers. I don't know all the details behind the scenes of these individuals' actions and choices. I don't know the full picture. And I don't need to. I know that we are fallen creatures, that none of us is perfect, and optimistically, that most of us are really trying our best.

So I try my best. I move forward with what I know--that Jesus Christ is our Savior, literally risen from the dead to redeem us; that God's prophet will never lead me away from God; that I can receive answers to my questions if I honestly and humbly seek; that I can feel peace in my heart even when I don't have all the answers.

I won't gossip about these news stories. I won't pass judgment, because that's not my job. I'll pray--for myself, for my family, and for those in the midst of spiritual struggle and turmoil. I'll teach my family how to receive their own witnesses and how to nurture their own testimonies. I'll seek my own personal witness of this beautiful truth and trust that "what [I] know will always be more than what [I] don't know."

Let's stop making this about them and us and focus on Jesus Christ, through whom everything will someday be made right. Let's address our own individual shortcomings before we assume the responsibility to pass judgment on another. Let's be faithful together, even amid our differences--let's find unity in our Savior. That's what this whole life is about.

an Easter walk

This morning I pulled out the stroller and took the boy on a walk with me. (We did this last year too, so maybe now it's a thing?) We walked around our little neighborhood listening to the birds and feeling crisp, fresh air on our cheeks. We saw fuzzy dandelions coated in a thin layer of frost and tulips blooming with abandon. We walked mostly in silence. We walked and noticed the spring and thought about Easter.

Every Easter morn I feel a stirring in my heart. It's unsettling, yet familiar, a stirring that reminds me of my own humanity, weakness, and humility. It's a stirring that makes all my expressed gratitude insufficient, because the gift He gave me is so momentous, so all-encompassing, so intimate, that nothing I could ever say or do will ever be enough to express those raw feelings in my heart. Every Easter I wake up with tears close to the surface, because without Him, I'd have nothing. Because of Him, I have everything.

Because of Him, I have my family, and because of Him my family can be eternal.

Because of Him I can start over again and again and again.

Because of Him I can feel love.

Because of Him I have answers, and because of Him I have purpose.

Because of Him I can remake myself each day.

Everything good in my life--my husband, my son, my people, my friends, and even books and tulips--I have because of Him. He is everything good.


The sun rose this morning over my neighborhood, that same sun that rose that morning Mary found the tomb empty. The sun that melts the frost today is the same star that lit the days of our Savior. Every Easter my heart is tender and raw and full, because I know that He--Jesus Christ, the literal Risen Lord--is everything.

#BecauseofHim

a celebration for the believers, and even for those who only want to believe

What were those days like before Christ came to the earth? What would it have been like to live then? Today we have the Bible, which gives us an account of Christ's birth, life, death, and resurrection. We can choose to believe in words already written. In one sitting we can read the prophecies of a savior and see them fulfilled. We're on the other end of this story. But what would it have been like to live in the beginning?

For centuries before Christ's birth prophets prophesied of a redeemer, God promised to send a messiah. For generations and generations the people of the world heard promises and had to hold fast to them. These people didn't have any proof that Christ would actually come, no due date to mark on the calendar, no app to count down to His arrival--they believed because that's all they had.

{Mary Kept All These Things, Howard Lyon}

For a long time I wondered about the deep spiritual significance of Christmas--I know that sounds really bad. And here's the thing: usually when we talk about the miracle of Christmas, we talk about what the Christ child went on to do after He grew out of the manger. We talk about His sacrifice, His miracles, His redemption. And to me, those pieces of core doctrine--while paramount--are more suited to Easter. Redemption is what I celebrate in the spring when I celebrate the Savior's resurrection. And I know that it's never a bad time to reflect on Christ's grace, but something in my heart always told me that something was different about Christmas. So I ask again: What makes Christmas so special? Because we celebrate the rest of Christ's life on a different holiday.

What would it have been like to finally see the new star signifying that Christ was born? What would it have been like to be the shepherds who welcomed the angel? What would it have been like to be the wise men who traveled miles upon miles to meet a babe whom they merely believed would actually be in Bethlehem? What would it have been like to have been a believer when Jesus was born into this world?

{via}

Christmas isn't necessarily about redemption itself--it's about the promise of redemption, the promise of peace. For centuries--centuries--God promised His children a Savior, and for centuries those children had to believe that it would happen. Millions and millions of men and women died without seeing that promised fulfilled. Some probably even lost faith as they waited. The miracle of Christmas is that God keeps His promises. God keeps His promises. He promised us a savior, and in His own time He sent His own Son to be born among farm animals in a stable. He sent us prophets and signs. It might have been easy for some to doubt Heavenly Father, but He followed through anyway.

Even when we fail, Heavenly Father remains steadfast. His promises are sure, even if they're a long time in coming. Christmas is faith realized, belief proved. Christmas is evidence that our believing is never in vain, not if we anchor our belief in God's promises.

Christmas is a celebration for the believers, and it's a beacon of hope for those who don't believe, but who desperately wish they could. Because it's never too late to believe--that's the message the Christ-child brought with Him. That's the message we can hold to when we don't know what else to believe. Believing is sacred, believing is living. It's never too late to believe.

because it's what we do

Right now, church is the hardest thing I do every week. I'm almost not kidding. We dress up and try to keep Asher occupied for three hours. Three. In our church when kids turn eighteen months old they can go to the nursery for the second two hours. But Asher? He just turned fifteen months. So, three months to go. And from what other moms tell me, I'm in the worst part of pre-nursery days. And it's hard.

Asher is curious, restless, and loud, which is no surprise--he's a toddler. And it's not like church clothes are conducive to baby-wrangling. Every Sunday there's one moment when I wonder why we do this for three hours. Whichever of us has the boy doesn't really get to enjoy lessons or anything spiritually uplifting. When I have the boy during the last hour, I pretty much run out of the building, with Josh trailing behind swinging the diaper bag. So, again I ask, Why do we do this?

{via}

And I guess the answer is simple: we endure those three hours of baby chaos because it's just what we do. We go to church because it's what our family does on Sundays. Attending church isn't even really a conscious decision every week--it's just what we do. And even though it's really hard sometimes, I'm really really glad we do it. Because if I had to consciously decide every single week whether we would go or not, I think I might choose not to go more weeks than not. And I think the consequences of phasing out church in my life would have a much more lasting and negative effect on my heart--and on the heart of my sweet boy--than the consequences of crazy baby-chasing. I believe that in our family, consistently choosing church makes small impressions on his soul every week. And maybe those impressions will mean something big for him later, even if it means I'm crazy-eyed for a bit. 

Good things are often hard things, and sometimes doing good things don't produce immediate results. So we have to remember that they're good and that we should be doing them. Going to church every week is a hard thing right now. But it's also a good thing--a really, really good thing.

Ayla's Stocking: a post to warm your heart

If you're new to this space, you might not know about Ayla. I've written about her here, here, and briefly here. Ayla is my cousin Julie's daughter, who is almost exactly the same age as Asher. In January of this year, Ayla passed away from bacterial meningitis. This sorrow has affected me and our family in sacred and profound ways. (I wrote about that here.) Her mother, Julie, is a mountain of strength and faith. I can't even begin to tell you how much I admire her.

A couple of weeks ago, Julie announced a project called Ayla's Stocking. Ayla contracted the meningitis just a day or two after Christmas, and so Julie and her family spent the rest of the holidays in the hospital and in hospice. Julie's heart is especially tender for those parents and children who have to spend what should be such a wonderful time in such a not-homey place. She wants to ease the pain of those parents who might never have a normal Christmas with their babes.

{Ayla in her Christmas outfit and Julie}

Julie is collecting small gifts for children who are spending their Christmas in the hospital. Ideas include the following:

:: infant rattles, rings, teething toys
:: gift cards for families to places like Toys R Us, Wal Mart, etc.
:: pajamas of varying sizes
:: craft kits (with enclosed supplies) or small boxes of colored pencils, crayons, markers, etc.
:: musical toys (anything that plays sounds or music, push-button toys, etc.)
:: slippers for children and adults
:: one-size-fits-all stretchy gloves
:: winter hats (in Canada they're called toques!)
:: books (mostly infant and teen)

If you have other ideas, please feel free to donate those as well! I think this is such a beautiful way to remember Ayla, and if you have room to give, please send your gifts Julie's way. She will be donating all contributions to the hospital that treated Ayla.

I will be collecting items to send, and if you're in the Portland, Oregon, area, we can arrange a time for me to pick up your donations, and I will send them to Canada at the beginning of December. If you aren't around Portland and would still like to contribute to Ayla's Stocking, you can email me for Julie's address. (You can write me at charlottejane17{at}gmail{dot}com. You can find Julie's blog here.)

Ayla's life was short, but profound. I know that I will be forever influenced by her brief time here on earth. I am oh so grateful for the Plan of Happiness, which allows us to be with our families forever--Julie will be with her daughter again someday. Remembering the gift of our Savior--the gift of eternal families--is the best way to celebrate this upcoming season. Nothing is more wonderful.

living grace

This whole month the subject of grace has been percolating in my mind. I even had a friend ask me a couple of weeks ago what I thought about the relationship between grace and gracious. So here we are, the last Sunday of 31 days. And I think it's about time we talk about this.

Grace and gracious share the same linguistic root: Anglo-French, Latin root gracia or gratia. In this post, I'll be referring to grace as the gift of sanctification paid for by Jesus Christ. In my faith, grace is also called atonement and redemption. In the Bible Dictionary, a scripture study help, we learn that "the main idea of the word is divine means of help or strength, given through the bounteous mercy and love of Jesus Christ." So with this understanding of grace, and with the understanding of gracious that we've gained from this series, what's the connection?

Just about everything.

{"Prince of Peace," by Liz Lemon Swindle. I have a copy of this hanging in Asher's room. It's one of my favorite portrayals of the Savior.}

Gracious living is living with grace, living with the power and mercy of the Savior in our lives. (I know some of my readers don't believe in Jesus Christ, and that's okay. Because I believe that not only is Christ real and literal, but also that He loves each of us, regardless of our belief system.) Gracious living is a lifestyle of the heart, a lifestyle that can't help but manifest itself outwardly in how we treat others and in how we treat ourselves. Living with grace is seeking change within the Savior so as to be more like Him in heart and deed.

This connection between grace and gracious is perhaps best explored on our own. Its meaning is so personal that it's best examined in our own quiet moments and reflections. The crux of it all is that grace is inexorably tied up in gracious living. Grace makes gracious living possible, and gracious living is the outward expression of grace. The more we cultivate a gracious heart, the closer we grow to Jesus Christ and the more we are changed to be as He is.

After this series concludes this week, above all things I want my readers to walk away with this understanding: Jesus Christ has the ultimate gracious heart. He is gracious to us always, and the more we seek to be gracious ourselves, the more light and peace we will experience in our lives through His grace. He is the point of everything, the reason for and source of gracious living.


We can't do any of it without Him.

This post is part of a 31-day series on gracious living. You can find the other posts here.

when music filled my soul

Today at church a young woman sung a beautiful arrangement of one of my favorite hymns. It was actually the exact arrangement that I played when I was a teenager. I remember practicing this accompaniment over and over, with no one but myself to sing the words. I remember feeling the powerful presence of the Holy Ghost as I played, played notes that penetrated me and filled me full.

He lives! All glory to His name!

He lives, my Savior, still the same.

Oh, sweet the joy this sentence gives:

"I know that my Redeemer lives!"

As the accompanist played the arrangement, I was brought back to moments in my life when I solidified my own knowledge of Jesus Christ as my Savior. Tears welled as I recalled those sacred impressions, and even now I shiver in joy when I hear certain measures from that music. I've said it before in this series, and I'll say it over and over and over, because this is the crux of everything: God is gracious. He loves us. Always.

This post is part of a 31-day series on gracious living. You can find the other posts here.

halfway there

First off, we've made it to Wednesday. Even as a stay-at-home mom, for me Wednesday means the other side of the hump. Also, I'm halfway through Gracious Living. Part of me can hardly believe it, and the other part of me is tired. Writing every day is hard. Some posts I've planned a few days in advance, and others I whip up at 10:30 at night. It's been an interesting experience for me, and I'm grateful to you for coming along for the ride.

For today I'll leave you with a four-minute video about a couple who live graciously in a beautiful way.



As Josh and I approach our wedding anniversary next week, I watch this and want to embrace such wholehearted gracious living. Marriage is perhaps the most important relationship that requires our gracious hearts, and the rewards are breathtaking.

This post is part of a 31-day series on gracious living. You can find the other posts here.

love and refinement

Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up,

Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil;

Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth;

Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.

Charity never faileth.

{1 Corinthians 13: 4 - 8}

But charity is the pure love of Christ, and it endureth forever; and whoso is found possessed of it at the last day, it shall be well with him.

{Moroni 7:47}

This post is part of a 31-day series on gracious living. You can find the other posts here.

filled with compassion

And it came to pass that when Jesus had thus spoken, he cast his eyes round about again on the multitude, and beheld they were in tears, and did look steadfastly upon him as if they would ask him to tarry a little longer with them.

And he said unto them: Behold my bowels are filled with compassion towards you.

Have ye any that are sick among you? Bring them hither. Have ye any that are lame, or blind, or half, or maimed, or leprous, or that are withered, or that are deaf, or that are afflicted in any manner? Bring them hither and I will heal them, for I have compassion upon you; my bowels are filled with mercy.

{3 Nephi 17:5 - 7}

Gracious living is healing, merciful, and compassionate. Gracious living fills our lives with grace.

This post is part of a 31-day series on gracious living. You can find the other posts here.

the seventh day

This is how Sundays make me feel now.

{Instagram post from a few weeks ago.}

Yesterday was particularly hard. Asher made it okay through the three hours of church (which is a lot of church even for adults, much less for an almost-toddler who isn't yet old enough to attend the nursery), but then he crashed during lunch. His nap was okay, but earlier than usual, meaning that he woke up five hours before bedtime. That's a long time to be awake for a one-year-old. And that's a long time for his mama.

So mid-afternoon when I was ready to implode from physical and emotional exhaustion, I proposed that we all take a sanity walk. We walked around Wilsonville for about an hour, and it was bliss. The sky was overcast and the air was a pleasant 65 degrees. I pushed the stroller while Josh walked beside me, and we talked about the Sunday battles and why they are the way they are and why moving to a different congregation has been hard for me (for Mormons, the congregation you attend is determined geographically, so when we moved, we moved into different boundaries). We talked about fall and ventured to say that Oregon falls are our favorite. We laughed as Asher pointed at all the dogs we saw, and we swooned over our boy's winning smiles.

{Instagram post from yesterday's sanity walk}

That sanity walk was exactly what we all needed. Church is good, and attending is a high priority for me, even when it's hard. On those days when it is hard, I think that God gives me some compensation in the form of sanity walks, in the smiles of my babe, and in the hand of my man.

tchau, meu irmão

My brother left for his full-time church mission. He'll be gone for two whole years, and our primary method of communicating will be through letters and email. We'll get to talk to him on Christmas and Mothers' Day. I chose not to serve a full-time mission, so I can't say that I can relate fully to anything that he's experiencing right now. In the days leading up to his departure he was a little nervous, but he stayed mostly calm and focused.

Seeing my brother come into his own this way was such a beautiful experience for this older sister. He's still completely himself--witty, laid back, and silly all once--but there was something else there, something only God could give him. He possessed both confidence and humility, and that is a wondrous and powerful combination.

We all cried our fair share of tears, especially the night before he left, but really, this time was more exciting than sad for my family. We (minus Emily who was struck down by the flu) accompanied John to the airport and waited while he got ready to make his way to his plane. All of us gathered around the entrance to the security line and took our turns giving him hugs that will have to last him a long time. My eyes smarted a little, but what I felt was an even greater urge to smile.

We waited at the place in the airport where you can see all the security-cleared passengers go down the escalator to the train to the terminals. When we saw Elder Wood, we waved and smiled like goons and took a million cell phone pictures. Those moments will forever be etched in my heart, because even though I will be apart from my brother for a long time, I feel closer to him than ever before; he is fully engaged in God's work, and a shared love of Jesus Christ is the best glue for a family.

John is in Brazil now, and his mission president at the training center has sent us a few pictures. He looks happy. I pray for him every night and look forward to this time in two years when he'll be back in the States. But I don't need the time to rush by. John's mission is the most important thing he's ever done up to this point, and I want him to savor it and relish it and get lost in it.

You can go here to follow his mission!

close to heaven

In looking back through this blog, I realized that I never followed up with the story of my cousin Julie and her daughter, Ayla. Ayla passed away on January 15, at a little over four months of age. Julie joined us in Denver for part of our stay and had the opportunity to meet Asher. Her stay was full of tender moments, and we were sweetly reminded that heaven isn't so far away.

When Julie held Asher for the first time, I could see that Asher already knew who she was, Ayla's mother. He gave her big smiles and infectious giggles. We all agreed that Asher knows Ayla, that perhaps he is still close enough to the veil to interact with those on the other side.

Before Julie's arrival, though I was so excited to see her, I was hoping that Asher's presence wouldn't deepen her own pain. Julie expressed to me that on the contrary, Asher not only comforted her but also made her feel more closely connected to her angel babe. As we talked openly of Ayla and her life, I felt myself healed some. We shared both laughs and tears, rejoicing in God's plan of happiness for us.

Babes, whether in this life or in the one beyond, are sacred and precious. Though I felt it impossible, the love I hold for my son deepened further that weekend, for I witnessed the joy he could bring to a still-grieving mother. I feel the holiness of my calling to love and raise this boy. Both he and Ayla came straight from heaven, and both of their lives remind me that heaven is close.

For more about what I believe about mortality, heaven, and families, please visit here.

the importance of believing

I've had 25 Christmas Eve nights, but one in particular stands out to me. I remember sitting in my grandparents' living room opening our pajamas after our Christmas Eve program. All of my family was around and in the midst of Christmas excitement and conversation, I heard soft jingle bells. I called out, "Mom, did you hear that! That's Santa!" I believed that Santa and his reindeer had just flown over our house, and I believed it with all my heart.

Believing is harder now than it was all those years ago. Growing up is hard on believing, isn't it? All of us have dealt with broken hearts and unrealized dreams, with disappointment and grieving. Some days believing is just too hard. Sometimes the heart can't handle it. 

But what would happen if we all stopped believing? What would happen to our hearts? What would happen to goodness and innocence, magic and love? What would happen to our dear children?

So readers, with a heart heavy with our nation's recent tragedy and loss, I declare my belief. This Christmas, let's believe in Santa Claus again, believe in the magic of innocence. Let us strain our ears this Christmas season for the soft sound of jingle bells, for sometimes the good is hard to find, but find it we must. If we seek goodness and the light of our dear Savior, we will find it. We must keep believing.

Remember the Wise Men, who sought the Christ child, the shepherds who hearkened to an angel's call. Let our belief emulate theirs, let us believe in the saving and tender power of the Babe who would one day give His life for all of ours, for all of theirs.

I love Thee, Lord Jesus,

I ask Thee to stay

Close by me forever and

love me, I pray.

Bless all the dear children

in Thy tender care,

and fit us for heaven

to live with Thee there.

{Away in a Manger, verse 3}

In the middle of this national grieving, don't forget or diminish the importance of believing. Listen for jingle bells and seek good. Our belief will prevail--through tears and heartache--and will lead us to the Light we so desperately seek.

on balancing and understanding, loving and standing

I don't think I've ever engaged in a political discussion on this forum before. This is a topic that weighs heavily on my mind often, so I feel the need to discuss it now: gay marriage, and why I'm against it.

I have many friends who will disagree with me, and that's okay. Because here's the thing: I understand the other side of this issue. I really do. And that's why making my stand is a hard thing sometimes. Back in high school, my stand on same-sex marriage was the same as it is now, but my approach wasn't very compassionate or understanding. Now, ten years later, my mind and heart are softened. I'd hope that any comments on this post, if disagreeing, will be respectful.

I believe in marriage. I believe that God created marriage to make us more like Him, created it for a man and a woman. I don't believe that marriage is taken as seriously as it should be; I see heterosexual couples disrespect and devalue marriage today, and that makes me sad.

I believe that homosexual men and women are no different from the rest of us. Some are good, some not as good. Some are kind, some are selfish. Some are compassionate, some intolerant. All of us are children of a loving Heavenly Father.

I believe in right and wrong, and I believe that I have the responsibility to stand for that right. I have a duty to teach my family right and wrong. Judging others is not something I need to worry about; standing for what I believe is. I believe in loving as Christ loves, regardless of our differences. I believe that He is our advocate, that He wants me to reach out to and love everyone. I believe that finding that balance between standing and loving is hard sometimes, but that continually seeking that balance is important and necessary.

I believe that there are things God asks of us that I don't understand. When marriage is doctrinally a union between a man and a women, I don't understand why God created some of us with sexual attractions to those of the same sex. I wish I did understand, but I don't. I believe that someday I will understand and that until that day I need to proceed in faith and prayer.

I believe that God gives us commandments because he wants us to be happy, and He sees a bigger picture, knows the best way to come to happiness, even when that way is hard. I don't believe that being gay is a sin; I believe that choosing to live a gay lifestyle is. I don't believe that choosing against what you feel is easy. In fact, I believe that those struggling with same-sex attraction struggle with something incomprehensibly difficult. I believe that someday God will compensate for that pain. Someday we'll all understand. Just not today.

Some say that legalizing gay marriage won't affect me or my family. But it will. It will affect my children and what they are taught in school. It will affect how I parent them. It will expose my children to issues and topics that they may not be ready to understand so young. I pray so fervently that I will know how to teach my children love and kindness and how to teach them right and wrong. I hope that I can teach them that balance between standing and loving.

I know we are all God's children. He knows us, and He loves us. As a Christian, judging others is not within my purview; both loving and standing, however, are.

If you want to know more about how my faith approaches same-sex attraction and marriage, read this official statement given in 2006.

memorial weekend parties

I spent my weekend in Denver with the family (Josh couldn't come--no vacation time and expensive plane tickets). My weekend was wonderful and busy. We were going from the time I got there to the time I left.

:: The little brother graduated high school (though little is poor word choice--John is a full foot taller than I am).

{Taking self-portraits with this graduate is just about impossible given his incredible height}

:: We celebrated graduation with a big family dinner, complete with marinated flank steak and grilled salmon. Plus two cakes. Obviously.

:: Emily went through the temple on Saturday. (This was the ultimate reason I came to Colorado for the weekend.)

{Super windy day}

:: My close friends threw me a delightful baby shower. Those newborn onesies just about kill me with cuteness.

:: Sunday night Mom made homemade donuts for John and some of his friends for another graduation celebration.

{Because who doesn't love a picture of a newborn onesie?}

I returned to Oregon yesterday and crashed on the couch in complete exhaustion--it was a great weekend, but right now, this girl is all partied out.

needed clarification

In light of recent political dialogue, let me set a few things straight.

I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints--I am a Christian. I believe that through Christ's grace--and only through His grace--are we redeemed from our sins. I believe that Jesus Christ Himself restored His church through the Prophet Joseph Smith and that we have prophets and apostles today who receive revelation from God.

I believe that Jesus Christ is the son of God, that He both lived and died for me, that through His atonement I am able to return and live with Him and His Father someday. My relationship with my Savior is what defines me.

I am a Mormon.

I am a Christian.