Wisdom from the lips of Marmee: A plan for finding the perfect man

Throughout my life I knew that one of my momma's favorite books and movies was Little Women. But it wasn't until recently that I think I started to understand why. I think she looked up to Marmee as an example of an incredible mother. Throughout the storyline, Marmee mothers her four daughters alone while her husband is off at war. She does an incredible job of helping them through the trying times of the teenage years, including through the death of one of her daughters. In fact, I think she may be the greatest fictional mother in literary history.

Besides the countless times we watched the movie together, I distinctly remember Mom sitting on the hard wood floor in my bedroom, reading Little Women to me as I fell asleep. There is one night I remember in particular. We had just read the chapter about Meg's trip to visit Annie Moffat. (If you haven't read the book or seen the movie or musical, do it, because this will all make a lot more sense after.) While at one of Annie Moffat's grand parties, Meg overhears two women talking about the March family. They elude to the idea that Meg will one day marry Laurie, their wealthy neighbor. One woman says, "Mrs. M. has made her plans, I dare say, and will play her cards well, early as it is." Meg, as you can imagine, is shocked by this idea. Would her mother really carry on a friendship with Mr. Lawrence, Laurie's grandfather, in hopes that one of her daughters would one day marry the young man and inherit the family fortune? I would be willing to bet that Meg, knowing her mother's character, was wise enough to know that these were not her mother's intentions. Upon returning home, Meg tells her mother about what she overheard and asks, "Mother, do you have 'plans', as Mrs. Moffat said?" Marmee's response is beautiful:

"Yes, my dear, I have a great many, all mothers do, but mine differ somewhat from Mrs. Moffat's, I suspect.... I want my daughters to be beautiful, accomplished, and good. To be admired, loved, and respected. To have a happy youth, to be well and wisely married, and to lead useful, pleasant, lives, with as little care and sorrow to try them as God sees fit to send. To be loved and chosen by a good man is the best and sweetest thing which can happen to a woman, and I sincerely hope my girls may know this beautiful experience. It is natural to think of it, Meg, right to hope for and wait for it, and wise to prepare for it, so that when the happy time comes, you may feel ready for the duties and worthy of the joy. My dear girls, I am ambitious for you, but not to have you make a dash in the world, marry rich men merely because they are rich, or have splendid houses, which are not homes because love is wanting. Money is a needful and precious then, and when well used, a noble thing, but I never want you to think it is the first or only prize to strive for. I'd rather see you poor men's wives, if you were happy, beloved, contented, than queens on thrones, without self-respect and peace."

After finishing the chapter, Mom told me of the plans that she had for me. After all, all mothers have plans for their daughters. I wish with all my heart that I could remember exactly what she said and what she told me. I can't. But I can imagine what she said. I'm sure in some aspects, it was similar to Marmee's. That first and foremost she wanted me to be happy and content with my life. I bet she talked about the importance of the gospel in finding true happiness. In talking about her plans for my future husband, a worthy priesthood holder, a returned missionary, and an eagle scout were at the top of the list. I bet she also talked about the importance to find someone who respects me, who loves the Lord more than he loves me, and who will be a great father. And of course she would have talked about the temple and the importance of working toward a temple marriage and finding someone who was working toward the same. I can imagine her also talking about getting an education, being responsible and productive, and serving well in church callings. I hope to be able to become the woman she saw me becoming, but there is one thing that I am sure of. I have found a WONDERFUL man, who I know fits all of her qualifications.

Us on the farm with just a small portion of
my cute future nieces and nephews :)

Meeting and falling in love with Nathan has been the most amazing experience. It has been easier and more magical than I ever imagined. The smoothness of our relationship has made me feel that the powers of heaven have been involved every step of the way. There must be angels attending to us. Fairly early on in our relationship, I was talking to a friend about how absolutely perfect Nathan is for me. She said, "You know, I bet your mom picked him out." A truer statement has never been said of Nate. I wish I could find the words to explain why that is. I will try, in the best way I know how. 

If you are reading this blog, you probably knew my mother. Or if you didn't, you at least know how much I look up to, admire, and strive to be like her. The woman I am when I'm with Nate reminds me of my beautiful mom. He loves me and accepts me for who I truly am. He helps me make the gospel and service the center of my life. He loves my music and encourages me to pursue my passions. He encourages me to live an active lifestyle and take care of my body. He does not expect me to spend oodles of money on clothes, or hours on end doing my makeup. In essence, the things that he loves most about me, are the exact traits that my mother exemplified and instilled in me. 

So this is my cheesy post about my fiance. (I have so much fun calling him that!) He's amazing. I love him with all my heart. I'm so grateful that Heavenly Father sent someone so wonderful to sweep me off my feet! I never expected to find someone so wonderful. It's such a comfort to know, without a doubt, that Mom would approve of him in a heartbeat! The day that the two of them get to really, officially, meet will be a miraculous one. It's a thought that I will cherish in my heart until that day comes!

Mourning With Those That Mourn: how to help people without hurting them

You’ve just heard that tragedy has struck in the Jones family. Sister Jones has been diagnosed with a brain tumor. Thinking of the struggle the family is facing tugs at your heart strings. Your mind starts to whirl, thinking about what you could do to help them. Okay, let’s be honest. The only thing you think is, “I should take them dinner!” No other thought crosses your mind, because no other ideas have ever been presented. It’s probably what you saw your mother do for those in need. It’s what they ask you to do at church. It’s like our minds have set “take them dinner” as the default response to anyone going through a tragedy. But this method leaves so many needs unmet.

The summer that my mom was sick and passed away, I was heartbroken, stressed, lonely, and I couldn’t focus to save my life. My world was spinning out of control, and I couldn’t find a way to slow it down. People tried to reach out and help, but generally their efforts made things worse. In my rapidly changing life, I didn’t need people I’d never talked to before to ask me about my feelings. I didn’t need people to look at me with eyes full of pity, telling me they understood what I was going through. And I definitely didn’t need people stuffing our fridge so full of food that I couldn’t find anything in it. No, what I needed was a sense of normalcy.

Serve according to their needs

Everyone is different. Everyone has different needs. So if everyone has different needs, why do we treat them all the same? Why do we carry a parade of casseroles, jello salads, and rotisserie chickens into the kitchen of every family facing a tragedy? That was my worst nightmare. The only things in my life that I felt I could control were breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Making meals for my parents was therapeutic for me. Mom would sit at the counter an talk to me as I cooked, answering my cooking questions as I went. After she passed away, those moments I spent with my mom became some of my favorite memories. So when people insisted on bringing us food even when we asked them not to, I got frustrated, bitter, and even more stressed. Now, keep in mind that other people may need meals. That’s why the key in mourning with those that mourn is listening to and discerning needs. You have to find out what they really need in order to be of service. Otherwise the help you provide is, well, not helpful. 

Maintain the usual relationship

It seemed that every middle aged woman I knew came up to me, put their hand on my arm, looked at me with these sad, understanding eyes, and said, “How are you doing?” It was like they wanted to be a mother figure to me. I really just wanted to jerk my arm away, frown, and sarcastically mumble, “How do you think?” But I didn’t. I put on a brave face, put my emotional walls up as high as they would go, and said, “I’m doing okay.” Everyone seemed to think they had to say something to make me feel better, or to let me know that they were there for me. But the reality was, I just wanted people to treat me the way they usually did. 

I learned that teenagers are fabulous at this! They don’t know what to say or do, so they just don’t say or do anything. The people at school that barely talked to me still barely talked to me. My friends still vented about tests and boys and how annoying their parents were. I had one friend who knew just how to make me feel loved without saying anything or invading my privacy. He would drop off a bottle of Diet Dr. Pepper on my doorstep on days that were particularly difficult. He didn’t knock, just left it there for me to find. It was perfect for me, because I knew he was thinking about me and that I could count on him, but I didn’t have to talk unless I wanted to. He knew this was what I needed because he knew me. He knew that if I wanted to talk about it, I would call him. He knew that talking to me about it would probably make it worse. He found a way to show that he cared about me without hurting me. 

I don’t like talking about my feelings, and I know that not everyone is like me. A good rule of thumb is to maintain the same relationship that you usually have with the person that is mourning. If you would normally exchange a simple, lighthearted conversation, do that. If you have the “smile and wave” kind of friendship, just keep smiling and waving. But, if you have the kind of relationship where you eat ice cream, spill your darkest secrets, and cry on each other’s shoulders, then you better go buy some ice cream, because your friend is going to need you! 

Remember that you don’t know how they feel

“My dad passed away when I was 22, so I know exactly how you feel.” I heard things like that a lot. And again, my gut reaction was not very nice. “This is my mom, and I’m 17. How is that the same?” I have four siblings, and even if they had told me that they understood exactly how I feel, I probably would have wanted to punch them. But they wouldn’t have done that, because they understood that as different people, even in the same situation, we feel differently. We mourn differently. People telling me that they knew how I felt didn’t make me feel understood. I felt it belittled what I was going through. It was probably the least sympathetic, least helpful thing anyone could have said to me.

Recognize that they’ll be hurting for a while

The hardest point in the mourning process for me was about three months after my mom’s passing. I didn’t have a funeral to plan or thank you notes to write anymore. There was nothing to consume my mind and keep me busy enough to mask the pain as there had been right after she passed. It was then that I had to face the reality of what had happened in my life. I had to learn to live without a mom. But by that point, everyone else had moved on. No one sent flowers, cards, or put Diet Dr. Pepper on my porch anymore. It was probably one of the loneliest times of my life. Mourning is a process. Everyone has a different time line. But never stop being there for your friend! 

But don't keep bringing it up either
Even years later, people want to keep talking about my mom every time anything good happens in my life. When I graduated, when I got my mission call, and when I got home from my mission the phrase I heard most was, "Your mom is so proud of you." Even today a bitter, sarcastic thought still comes to mind first. "Don't you think I know that? She was my mom. I know her. And I know she's proud of me." I know people's intentions are good. But rather than making me feel loved, this reminds me of the single most painful fact of my life: that my mom isn't physically here to experience my triumphs with me. Instead of allowing me to rejoice in my successes and move on with my life, these well-intended people force me to dwell on something that I don't want to think about. I don't want to remember that she's not there. I certainly don't want to forget about her either. I will always remember her. But I do have to move on with my life. She would want me to celebrate my successes without single thought for her. She is with me, and in quite moments I feel her presence and I know that she is proud of me. Those are the moments that mean the most. 

Knowing how to help people who are mourning is almost impossible sometimes. You’ll probably mess up more often than you’ll get it right. But the key is to remember that this is about them, not about you. I knew people had good intentions, but many times I felt they did what they did because it made them feel better knowing that they’d done something. It was about filling their need to help, not about filling our needs in our trials. You may want to help them in every imaginable way, but what they may need is a little bit of space. Or, they may need your constant companionship. They may not need anything, or they may need help with the housework and yard work. Or maybe, like me, they just need to walk out their front door in the morning and find their favorite drink waiting for them. 

Faith and Femininity

A friend of mine recently eluded to the idea that dressing up and looking nice every single day is a sign of unintelligence. She argued that if you can't go out in public "looking like crap" then there is something wrong with your self esteem. As someone who finds joy in making myself look presentable every day, I have to admit I took a little offense at this. Since this conversation, I've thought a lot about my motives for doing my hair and makeup and putting together cute outfits on a daily basis. It's also lead to a lot of follow-up conversations with my friend. I've decided that's what it boils down to: society sees femininity as a sign of weakness.

More than once in my life I've felt bombarded by media and opinions that say it's not okay to be SO feminine. Women have to be tough, muscular, independent, strong willed, opinionated, outspoken, and, last but definitely not least, a sex symbol. I've even heard men talk about how they want a woman who knows how to play video games, hunt, is super athletic, and enjoys other masculine things. Now I'm not saying that any of these qualities are negative. Many of them are good and even desirable. But I feel that as a whole the world has moved toward discouraging femininity. 

My 
"I'm playing a dainty
female in a musical" 
pose

It's gotten me thinking, where does that leave me? I like looking pretty every day. I like girly things, like pink and lace, and I really just love princess movies. The idea of finding a prince and having a happily ever after makes me almost giddy. I also love the sappy, unrealistic musicals. In fact, if I'm not playing an obnoxiously female character in a show, I'm probably less-likely to convincingly play the part. I'm not really in to the whole athletic thing; dance is my favorite form of exercise. Even in my emotions and the way I express myself I'm very much a girl. I definitely do the whole screeching, running, hugging thing when I see a close friend that I haven't seen in a while. I get worked up over stupid things that don't matter, I can be ridiculously boy crazy, and I'm not real good at masking the girly, hormonal emotions that I often feel.

I couldn't help but wonder if it's a bad thing to be so incredibly female, and if I am out of style and out of touch because of my seemingly old fashioned love of femininity. I was pondering on these ideas last night as I was going to bed, and a quote popped in to my head. After quite a bit of searching, I found it in a talk by Margaret D. Nadauld from General Conference of October 2000.

"The world has enough women who are tough; we need women who are tender. There are enough women who are course; we need women who are kind. There are enough women who are rude; we need women who are refined. We have enough women of fame and fortune; we need women of faith. We have enough greed; we need more goodness. We have enough vanity; we need more virtue. We have enough popularity; we need more purity" (https://www.lds.org/general-conference/2000/10/the-joy-of-womanhood?lang=eng&query=%22we+need+more+women+who+are%22). 

So what does this all have to do with my momma? This blog is dedicated to her, not my random soapbox rants, after all. The reason this quote so easily came to the surface of my mind, was because it had been engraved in my soul by the most exemplary women I've ever known. You guessed it, my beautiful mom! She loved this quote, and she is the perfect example of the desirable attributes listed. (Now, I'm going to speak of things that my mom IS, not that she WAS, because I know that she still embodies the attributes that she exemplified in life.)

My mom is the toughest woman I know. And yet she is also tender and gentle. She fights her battles with courage and strength, but also with grace and elegance.

She is the hardest working woman I've ever seen. She can paint and garden and move furniture with the best of them. But cooking, cleaning, sewing, crocheting, and doing other things that feminists might disapprove of are always were she loves to spend her time. 

Every morning at the crack of dawn, she was out jogging. Not in excess, just for about a half an hour each morning. She takes pride in her body as one of God's creations, but never allows that pride to make her prideful.

She does her best to look her best, but she isn't vain in any way. I remember her once telling me, "Do your best with yourself in the morning, and then once you've walked out the door, turn your attention to others." And that is exactly what she does. I don't remember her ever going out in public "looking like crap," but she isn't high maintenance. She doesn't need a lot of things. But she always tries to look her best, and then focuses on those around her.

She is a free thinker, has her own opinions, and can stand up for herself when she needs to. But mostly she listens selflessly as others express the desires of their souls. 

My mother is all of these things, because she lives what she believes. It is her understanding of her divine nature as a daughter of God that causes her to be a woman who is tender, kind, refined, faithful, good, virtuous, and pure. She understands that she has been selected by our Heavenly Father to care for her children, to bring them up in righteousness, to nurture them with kindness and care. And she knows that Heavenly Father blessed her with four daughters so that she could teach them to be women of God. 

If being feminine and enjoying doing feminine things make me more like the woman I call mom, then I'm okay with that. Heavenly Father made women to be more gentle with a purpose. It helps us to fulfill our divinely appointed role as mothers of the rising generation. My mom taught me everything I know about being virtuous woman. I hope that one day I can be the woman that she raised me to be -- the woman that she dreamed and prayed that I would become!

Little Notes

Over the years, I've saved many birthday cards and thank you notes. I have them stashed all around my room. Today as I was going through some drawers, I found a whole stash of them. Included were many from my sweet mom. I'd saved Valentine's cards, birthday cards, even a little note from my baptism day.
My favorite was this little gem:

Dear Lauren,
Thank you for the slippers! I love them. Every time I have to go out to the garbage can I slip them on and feel grateful. (And lots of other times too!)
Thanks for all of your help during Christmas. It was fun to have you around. You're always sweeet and thoughtful. My favorite words are always "What can I do to help" - as well as "I love you, Mom."
Thanks for the present and for being so good.
Love, Mom

Okay really, the woman wrote me a thank you note for giving her slippers for Christmas and managed to make it feel personal! I don't think I wrote a thank you note to her in my life. Shame on me! She was always wonderful at paying attention to the small details. I admire her for that!
Many of the notes I found include words of encouragement and love. I am grateful to her for writing those down so that I can benefit from them for years to come!

Small Mercies

So many events in our lives require preparation. And for a girl in her late teens, that usually means lots of assistance from her mom. That all changed for me when my mom passed away the first week of my senior year of high school. I prepared for a lot of things without her: Sterling Scholar, a few dances, senior pictures, graduation, my first semester of college, etc. At each of these events several wonderful women, often my sisters, stepped up to take care of me.
But since I got my mission call, her absence in my life seems to have been amplified. First it was in preparing to go through the temple. Then in actually going through. Recently, I've missed her care as I've recovered from oral surgery. But most frequently my mind has turned to the fact that she won't be able to help me shop for clothes. To alter the clothes that I find. To remind me that it really doesn't matter what I wear, because I'll be serving the Lord. I so miss her logic and love at this time in my life.
One day I was feeling particularly sad about this. I was thinking about it as I dressed for the adult session of stake conference. That night I picked out a dress that she bought me. In fact, it was from one of our last shopping trips together. At the time she was convinced that I needed more church clothes. I was pretty sure I had enough, but I wasn't one to argue when she offered to take me shopping.
As I pulled the dress over my head, I was wishing for just one more shopping trip like that. You can imagine my delight when I looked in the mirror and saw that this dress is 100% appropriate for mission service! It is long enough, has very modest sleeves, and is a light material that will be wonderful in the humid Houston climate. The thought came, "Mom helped me shop for mission clothes!" My eyes filled with tears of gratitude.
Shortly after, I put the skirt we bought that same day. Amazingly, it is long enough as well! I rarely purchase skirts and dresses longer than knee length, so the fact that I picked out two in one day is truly remarkable. I am grateful for the small mercies that the Lord provides for us. He knows the path we will take and prepares us perfectly for it. He truly is mindful of each of us!

The Perfect Companion

At the beautiful Hawaii temple during our trip to
Hawaii in 2008. Isn't this a great picture of my beautiful
mom? She was so at home in Hawaii, especially
near the temple. 

The temple was always a very important part of Mom's life. In fact, I'm sure it still is. She was a great example of going to the temple as often as possible. And she encouraged me to go frequently and do baptisms for the dead. Just after I turned twelve, she got some of my siblings together to go with me to the temple for the first time. I remember the joy of coming out of the water and having her wrap a towel around me.
Mom also wanted to serve a mission. It was her dream to be able to go serve with my dad. I am saddened that they didn't get to experience that together in this life, but I know that she is working hard to reach everyone she can on the other side.
About April of this year, I started doing family history work. Since that time, I have found over 1000 names to take to the temple. Shortly after I started, I told Mom (sometimes I talk to her like that) that it was her job to make sure the people that I was finding had gained a testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel and were ready for baptism.
I was recently talking to Mama C (a friend's mom who has become a mother figure to me) about the work I've been able to do for the dead. She pointed out that I've been doing missionary work, and that I have the greatest companion. It's so true. I am so grateful to her for pointing this out. I'm grateful that I've been able to connect with my own sweet momma in this way. We are working together for a cause that we both dearly love.
This all hit me very hard tonight as I studied scriptures with some of the people in my dorm. We read D&C 128:18 which reads:
 "The earth will be smitten with a curse unless there is a welding link of some kind or other between the fathers and the children, upon some subject or other—and behold what is that subject? It is the baptism for the dead. For we without them cannot be made perfect; neither can they without us be made perfect. Neither can they nor we be made perfect without those who have died in the gospel also..."

I testify that this is true. I have been irreversibly linked to my mom and to those relatives whose work I am doing. Without the experiences of family history work and temple work, I certainly could not be made perfect. And I know that without my mom doing the work that I can't, this experience would not be nearly as sweet. 

I am so grateful for the temple and the experiences that I've had there. I'm grateful for a mother that I know I can count on to be the most hardworking companion ever. And I am so incredibly grateful for a gospel that teaches me that I will have an eternity to continue making memories with my mom. This is a very temporary separation. I so look forward to the day that I can hold my momma in my arms and tell her thank you for doing her part in bringing these wonderful souls to the gospel. I rejoice in the knowledge that that day will come as long as I live worthy of it.


I couldn't resist throwing this out there: Those 1000+ names that I mentioned desperately need work done! I have initiatory, endowment, and sealings left. I also offer FREE babysitting to anyone taking my names to the temple, as long as I don't have to drive too terribly far. I would very much appreciate help from anyone willing :)

Halloween is all about the costumes!

With Halloween approaching, I've been thinking a lot about the costumes I've worn over the years. The first Halloween I remember, I was Minnie Mouse. If my memory serves me right, we'd been to Disneyland during the summer and of course gotten Mickey Mouse ears. Mom dressed me up in a little polka-dotted dress with a bow on my mouse ears. Then she herself dressed as my Mickey. How darling is that? My cute mom dressed up for Halloween as the second half of my costume.
The summer before I started kindergarten took us to New York where we saw Beauty and the Beast. It was on this trip that I fell madly in love with musical theater. And naturally I wanted to be Belle for Halloween. (Apparently my summer trips have a very large influence on my Halloween costumes. Maybe this year I'll be a... Guatemalan?) Mom sewed me the most beautiful gold Belle dress and altered a slip we had on hand to fit underneath it. I felt like a princess! I remember one boy in my kindergarten class that year dressed up as a lion, and everyone joked that he was my beast. I'm pretty sure he was my kindergarten crush too. It was highly embarrassing.
In second grade, I wanted to be a princess. Not any specific princess, but a princess in a tower type princess. So mom made me another beautiful dress. It was cream and blue, I think. There was probably some pink in there too, because what eight year old girly girl doesn't love some pink? She also made me a hat. You know, one of those tall cone shaped hats with material coming off the top. I can't help but wonder if that was my idea or hers, and if it was mine how on earth I came up with it.
In fourth grade, I wanted to be a good witch. She made me a red robe type thing with silver stars on it plus a witches hat to match. The stars must have taken her quite a while to sew on, and I'm really not sure how she made the hat. But she probably thanked her lucky stars (haha) that I hadn't asked her to make me a Glinda the Good Witch kind of dress.
One year in middle school, I was a genie. Think I Dream of Jeannie. I'm pretty sure we threw that one together the weekend before Halloween because by that time I'd become a bit of a procrastinator.
Last year may have been my favorite costume of all time, though. I wasn't planning on dressing up at all. In the middle of making doughnuts that afternoon (because it wouldn't be Halloween without homemade doughnuts), I decided dressing up sounded fun. So I started hunting for a costume. I came across a darling green dress that was obviously homemade. To be honest, I have no idea whose it was. Maybe Mom made it for one of my sisters. I like to imagine it was hers. But whoever it belonged to was exactly my size! It fit me like a glove. Operating under the assumption that it had been Mom's when she was in high school, I ratted my hair, flipped out the ends, and threw a headband in my hair. If you know me, you know I should have lived in the 50s or 60s. I was in heaven!
I love that Mom understood my insane need to get all dressed up. She was so willing to sew me costumes and pamper me. It's made for a lot of wonderful memories! I hope to be able carry on the tradition and spoil my kids a little on Halloween.