Punk time

By Beckie Carlson

I saw a post on Facebook today where a woman announced she had been married to her husband for 10,547...(or so) days. It caught me off guard. I thought we had moved on to months or years for big stuff like that. I did make me think though, what if we did keep track of everything in days or hours or even minutes. I wonder if we would be more conscious of how we spent our time?

A week isn't such a big deal to spend on a project. But what if we said we spent 168 hours doing something. Much more impressive. Looking back on my life, I had to wonder how much more impressive my accomplishments would look/feel if I changed the measurement device. These are all approximate.....Enjoy:

I was pregnant for 38,880 hours of my life.

I was married for 170,820 hours.

I did laundry for 2600 hours.

I went to school (college) for 5460 hours.

I was in the kitchen for 54,600 hours.

I didn't want to add up the hours on Facebook or other pointless social media because I was afraid I would go into a severe depression and jump off something high.

I also didn't add up the hours I've spent at the gym...it would be embarrassing. I don't even know the hours my gym is open. I feel more like I should write the money I spend on my membership off as a donation. I pay, but I get nothing out of it.

When it comes down to it, I don't think the time we spend doing something is really the point. I'm much more concerned with the quality of how my time is spent. I may have spent way too many hours/days/weeks watching movies, but I was usually with my kids and we were laughing together. I may have spent an obscene amount of time reading, but now I am extremely well versed and seemingly clever. I may have stayed up for hours watching netflix, but now I'm...well, tired. I don't think there is really a benefit to that one, except I do leg lifts to justify it.

How ever you spend your time, it is yours. It's really all we have, til it's gone. So, use it!

Cause I said so.

Photo credit: ashleyssuperiorcadproject.wordpress.com

Planting Some Seeds

by Becky Porter

My kids go back to school this week which is insane even by Arizona standards.  

I know some amazing moms who get all dewy-eyed as they send their children off to the first day of school.  In fact, I know some moms who would be a wreck if they were in my situation: ALL FIVE of my kids will be in school for the first time ever!!  My youngest (I'm not allowed to call him "my baby") will be starting kindergarten!

Now, before you pull out a hankie and cue up the tears, I have to inject a dose of reality.  Sorry.  I adore my children.  Really.  I happen to know that they are some of the most amazing kids to grace the face of this earth.  But, I am not crying.  Oh no.  Friends, I am dancing!  I am absolutely giddy!  Think of all the wonderful things I can do for the three hours of morning kindergarten!  If you can't come up with any ideas, I can help you out there.

I have always loved the first day of the school year, even when I was a kid.  There's a line from that Meg Ryan movie, "You've Got Mail", floating through my head--something about a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils.  I adore office supplies.  I have a strange compulsion to buy colored binder clips, patterned file folders, and dozens of composition notebooks every summer.  I long to grab everything in those tantalizing stationery aisles and toss them into my overflowing red cart (ahem; don't judge my Target addiction).

But the main reason I love a new school year is because it signifies a fresh start, a clean slate.  It is the symbolism of a fresh pack of crayons and a blank book that speaks to me.  And so, I set goals in August or September.  I make lists and more lists (I have to do something with my cute new notepads and pens!) and make grandiose plans.  Too often, I lose my lists and my enthusiasm about the same time which is, oh, approximately two weeks after I start working on my goals.

As I was flipping through my August issue of the Ensign magazine, I read an awesome article by President Dieter F. Uchtdorf that made me ponder what I can do differently this year.  He states, 

"Just as earthly seeds require effort and patience, so do many of the blessings of heaven.  We cannot put our religion on a shelf and expect to harvest spiritual blessings. . . . God's answers to our prayers do not always come immediately--sometimes they do not appear to come at all--but God knows what is best for His children. . . .our goal and great joy is to walk in the footsteps of our Master and Savior and to live good and refined lives so that the promised and precious harvest of God's priceless blessings can be ours."

Patience.  There's something I've spent a long time not having.  But I'm working on it.  And this time as I set my goals, I'll be doing more of it on my knees seeking the guidance of my Savior so that I can become the person He needs me to be.  He created me for a purpose.  He is the Master Gardener.  It is my job to put down roots and bloom.

*What seeds are you planting?  Any goals you can share with us?* 

Silent Night--no! The Kids are Gone!

Back to School Already?

For most everyone, our kids are away for the day already, brightening their young minds with treasures of education. What is that I hear? Silence? What is that? It sounds so . . . so quiet! Is something wrong?

No! The kids are at school! Wow, what to do now. Clean or write? I am laughing. Why write of course! Do you know how long it has been to have a house this silent? An endless amount of time stretching before me so that I can indulge myself in my tale-spinning? How thrilling!

School, in our neck of the woods here in northern Utah, hasn’t quite started yet. I am like the kids in the famous poem, T’was the Night Before Christmas:

The backpacks were hung by the front door with care,

In hopes that early school morning soon would be there;

The writing mamas were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of whipping up plots danced in their heads . . .

Can you feel the anticipation, ripe and ready to pick? I can. I can feel my creative side biting at the bit, so anxious to freely write. (Writing late into the night this past month has seemed nigh impossible with so many familial goings-on cooking around me.)

I know there are those of us with preschoolers toddling—or even rolling around—the house. Maybe squeeze in some writing time during a nap? Their favorite one-hour educational show on the public viewing station? Yes!

What are your thoughts and what writing projects do you have in mind as soon as you send the last child off to school?