Glad I listened

It'll be way easier not to take him.
Take him, the Spirit urged.

He hasn't seen his dad all day, let them play, I justified.

Take him, was still the direction.

I was already stressed about my talk I wasn't totally sure about yet.
I should just go to the baptism by myself...they'll be others he can come to.

Take him to this one. 

Maybe because I'd been preparing a talk on the Holy Ghost all afternoon, I actually listened.

On the way to the church, as I tried to think about my talk, the Spirit kept assuring me it would be fine and directing my attention to my son, happily strapped in his carseat on the way to the "big church" that's "rea-wee far away"  (10 minutes instead of 2).

Help them feel and recognize the Spirit. 
Promise them blessings.

So much of of the things I learned as a missionary apply so directly to helping my children learn and be converted to the gospel of Christ.

"McKye?"

"Yeah mom?"

"Ya, know, I bet if you paid real close attention to how you feel during the baptism, I bet you could feel the Holy Ghost?"

I love attending baptisms. So simple. So powerful. Watching a son or daughter of God commit themselves to follow the Saviour.

The woman being baptized has a little boy too.  He sat right up front almost at the very edge of the font, and she looked right at him until she went down under the water. I could tell part of her determination to change her life had come from wanting her son to find the lasting  joy and immense peace promised to those who embark on the path of discipleship.
She told me later he can't wait to get baptized.

I was so touched by their interaction I almost missed McKye's reaction.
I looked down just in time to see it.
When McKye smiles, really smiles, you can see it all the way to his ears,
and that's just what he did.
The moment she came back up, dripping and smiling, an involuntary grin burst across his face and from my vantage point, holding him on my lap, I saw his little temples expand out to make room for the sudden swell of happiness.

As I carried him back to our seats, he whispered in my ear,
"That was weally cool!"

My talk went fine, threw most of my preparation out the window and just tried to help everyone recognize the Spirit we'd felt.

The Spirit my four year old son had felt.

How grateful I am for the Holy Ghost in my life.
For it's fruits of joy and peace and love. (Gal 5:22)

I'll always remember a man we taught on my mission, who, a few weeks after his baptism during a lesson on the Holy Ghost, had looked at me and my companion and said, "I didn't realize what a difference it would make."

That constant companionship, that influence that urges us to our best selves
and inspires us to  serve others.
That prompts me to repent and change, to say sorry and to forgive.
That testifies of truth and confirms pondered and prayed over questions and offers moments of clarity to be remembered when one needs the courage to carry through with revelation received. That heals and helps and comforts. "As the soothing voice of a loving parent can quiet a crying child, the whisperings of the Spirit can calm your fears, hush the nagging worries of your life, and comfort you when you grieve."(True to the Faith, pg 82).
Such wonderful comfort. And always hope.
The Spirit that, according to Elder Parley P. Pratt, "inspires, develops, cultivates and matures all the fine-toned sympathies, joys, tastes, kindred feelings and affections of our nature. [That] inspires virtue, kindness, goodness, tenderness, gentleness and charity."
That to a primary child "feels like sunshine" and
that to me, makes me feel that I am not alone. That I am truly loved.


The Spirit that I pray to be with me every day
so I can do and be what the Lord would have me do and be.
The Spirit that I too often push aside.

The Spirit that told me to take McKye to the baptism.
The Spirit that made him smile.

The Spirit that will hopefully help him always remember how "weally cool" he felt.

6 years ago, my perfect boy...

...was handed to me. He wasn't squished, or red or purple or waterlogged. He was perfect. 

I can still remember those first few days and the moments I'd be completely overcome with how much I loved this little person, for no other reason than he was mine, and I was his. 

And in 6 years, so much has changed and yet somethings haven't changed at all. 

I still look at him and marvel at the perfection. His own sort of perfection. Not the kind of perfection that heeds expectations or shoulds or oughts. But is it's own. Complete in itself and its own utter uniqueness.

I still have moments where I am overcome with how much a love this "getting so big" person. For not other reason than he is mine and I am his. 

Along with Aaron's development our relationship, in ways, has got to stay in that infantile infatuation (just longer, stronger).  Wordless staring. Meeting needs- feeding clothing. Sharing love--holding, hugging, kissing. He's getting to be a size that it looks strange for me to hold him, to rock him--even though we both love it. 

He's my baby. My first. The one who ushered me in to my motherhood. 

And he's been here 6 years.  Happy Birthday Aaron. 

I have a friend. An adopted grandpa, who has offered me ana incredible amount of love.
He's also a poet. He says just a ol' cowboy poet, but...he wrote this.  And I asked his permission to share it. Because it was too beautiful to keep to myself. 

A tribute to (or perhaps from) Aaron and  (or perhaps to ) his family.

My thoughts will go to wandering,

Deep in the stillness of the night,

And problems seem beyond my cure,

When seen only by starlight.

But the sun will come up tomorrow,

And in the brightness of the day,

Those problems all will disappear,

And once again I’ll find my way’

Deep within my childlike mind,

My true identity is hid,

But God knows of my where abouts,

And I’m very close very Him.

One day I’ll furl celestial wings,

Then soar to exalted heights,

I’ll want you all there with me then,

For surely you have earned the right .

You’ve cared for me throughout my years,

You’ve buoyed me up, you’ve dried my tears.

You’ve kept my feet firm on the path,

You’ve fed my soul and made me laugh.

You’ve prayed for me on bended knee,

With faith, with hope, with charity.

For all these things you’ve given me,

The Tree of  Life I now will see.

Our Saviour's love will not forsake,

And from that Tree we will partake.

We’ll hold fast to the Iron Rod,

And find our way home, to live with God.

With heartfelt love, June 26, 2012.

From Sheldon L. Oviatt

Diapers on my path to faith.

Since it was mentioned in church, this conference talk "Faith in the Lord Jesus Christ"   by Elder Kevin W. Pearson, has been in my thoughts. A lot. 

And when things are in my thoughts, they come out my mouth, to my friends on the phone and then they think and talk about them too. Which can be very helpful.

Elder Pearson's 6 Destructive D's

Doubt, Discouragement, Distraction, lack of Diligence, Disobedience adn Disbelief 

 were so apparent patterns in our day-to-day lives!!!

When I would catch myself wanting distractions I could think, hmmm, why am I feeling discouraged? Had I been diligent and obedient about tapping into true, Spiritual sources of encouragement? or was I setting up my expectations based on others, or what I thought I ought to be accomplishing? 

Elder Pearson explained, "Discouragement comes from missed expectations. Chronic discouragement leads to lower expectations, decreased effort, weakened desire, and greater difficulty feeling and following the Spirit"

My friend and me, struck by the reality of this "pathway"  of destructive D's

decided to try and figure the path out in reverse...a path we could choose that would lead us to  greater faith, or at least one we could make a u-turn on, if we recognized ourselves heading int he wrong direction.

We decided you start with belief. (not faith yet) 

Just a desire to believe, like we learn in the scriptures (Alma 32)

Then we just need to obey. Just do what we know we're suppose to. Even when we're feeling rotten or lazy, or tired. Even when we feel like we can't possibly get anything out of our scriptures, or have time for service, or even stay awake for long enough to mumble a prayer. 

Just do it anyway, just to be obedient.

Obedience will grow into diligence. This is where following commandments becomes more habitual in our lives, a part of life. Less of a duty and more of a part of life we look forward to.

Diligence (in prays, scriptures, service) bring us closer to the Spirit which offers us a greater vision, and increased focus. With this eternal perspective in mind, the worlds distraction become less appealing, and loose their hold on us, allowing us to break bad habits, and make better choices. 

The Spirit fills us with understanding, and yup...faith. 

Not some "out of our hands", mystical faith, but faith we can actively work towards, faith that can be given to us. An endowment for trying to follow the Saviour.

Elder Bruce R. McConkie taught: “Faith is a gift of God bestowed as a reward for personal righteousness."

Elder Pearson further encourages us with this concept of our ability to choose faith! 

Desire, hope, and belief are forms of faith, but faith as a principle of power comes from a consistent pattern of obedient behavior and attitudes. 
Personal righteousness is a choice. Faith is a gift from God, and one possessed of it can receive enormous spiritual power.
We do have a choice. We get what we focus on consistently.

So often I act as though I have very little control over how I'm feeling. I am a victim of my own discouragement and dependent on my own favorite distractions. I don't want to admit that my own lack of diligence is at the root. 

I mop around thinking "If I can just get my closets to look like this bloggers" or "my wardrobe to be as cute as this friend" or my children as well behaved as this neighbour", or "my writing to be as clever as so and so..."

How can I be so quick to forget that the only true source of encouragement, of hope, or strength is the Saviour and my own willingness and determination to align myself to His Will for me!

I forget. But the moment I tap back in. 

The instant I finally give in and kneel, 

or open my scriptures, instead of another widow on my laptop. 

He flows back in. 

So close.

So ready to help.

And gives me light. 

(Which I then "high-light"  :)

Today he gave me these...

To let me know my labours aren't in vain, even though the laundry's never-ending, 

&my kids can make messes faster than I can deal with them.

That I can be content. That I can learn to love the up s and downs, the days of abounding, and the days of hunger and need. I think I thought "All things" meant great, or hard things. Today it meant a variety of seemingly small things, and things that are repetitive and relentless in their dailyness. It meant, I can stay calm when McKye is a booger, and I can find the humor in  yet another colosal mess, that I can keep  trucking along with Aaron, despite feeling totally burnt out with it all. 

I can. 

With Christ strengthening me. I can do anything He requires. 

But  He gets to choose. Not me.  

And finally, this:

"Let this mind be in you, which was also in Jesus Christ...[who] made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant"

Like a mom. 


As I read that (Phil 2:7), all I could think/feel was I'm choosing to be like Christ. How can I bemoan the my life as mundane, when I have the chance to try and learn to serve continually as Christ did?  Suddenly, the things I do everyday of "no reputation", like fishing the dirty diapers out of the toilet bowl (again),  ceased to be merely gross, inconvenient and unfair, but they became opportunities to humble myself, in a submission that one day may change me enough to lead to my own exaltation. 


How grateful I was, that I decided to stop and "recalculate" my journey towards  doubt and discouragement, and instead said, 


"Lord, help be find a path of faith, and focus instead."


I still had to clean up the diapers. But somehow it wasn't so bad.

Valentines: Family Style

Valentines falls smack-dab in between my birthday and my hubby's. 

So February kinda has a lot of pressure.

I laughed so hard at the scene in last weeks "The Middle"  (one of my favorite shows, no one else seems to watch...it's funny people, really funny!) when the husband says to the wife, 

"Oh are we doing Valentines this year?" with slight panic in his voice, masked with fake-confusion. The line was a little too familiar.

Every year it seems like Ben and I are unsure of the expectation. 

(Presents no present? Surprise, no surprise? Going out, staying in?)

Unclear expectations in marriage can be a dangerous thing.

But with a little content communication  and a great suggestion from a friend 

we ended up having a great Valentines Day.

The suggestion? Well it was more just her describing her family's did V-day traditions. 

"It was a family holiday for us growing up."

My brain grabbed onto the idea. Hmmm, how would Valentines look, if instead of thinking it had to be all about romance and me and my "lover" (don't know why I quoted that, we have three kids after all), if instead of sitting at home all day waiting for my Valentine to get home from work, so we can go celebrate...

If instead, it was a day just about love. Lovin' my kids and using any chance I get to show them how special they are, even if that just means hearts shaped construction paper and pancakes.

It really transformed the day for me. 

I was on a quest to just make the day fun and memorable for my kids and in the process it became fun and memorable for me. Bonus.

And I was left thinking why didn't I do this before?

For one I think being a cynic has somehow got "cool"...and sadly I think I had, to some degree, bought into aspects of that unwittingly. That maybe I resist what I see as "going over the top" because I think it conveys a falsity---an ideal rather than the real. We all know (all to well!) that love is not all flowers and chocolates.

It's sometimes ridiculously hard to communicate and better yet understand each other (two separate things). There are misunderstandings and hurt feelings, and in my case a lot of imagined arguments, and just stress in general, knowing we really do care about a person but still managing to louse it up time after time.

And so maybe the chocolates and flowers are less about portraying some untarnished ethereal love, but more a token of the concept of, "I'm still trying."

Because to me love is a choice. Everyday we decide to keep trying to love better than we did yesterday. Love casteth out fear...fear that we'll never be enough, or that we'll never stop messing up; fear that would say "give up, stop trying".

Love is the choice to keep trying. 

And this Valentine's Day I tried a little harder.  So in between the constant whining, and never-ending fighting and squabbling of my "hands on boys"  there were a few more hearts cut out, a few more kisses and hugs. A little less focus on whether I was getting flowers or not...

...a few more smiles and a bit more love.

(and lots more picture taking, which always makes me happy;)

It was "pink and red" day at school and Aaron with a little help from his friend Paigie's  wardrobe, went all out!

My little Valentines stud!

Going through Aaron's school loot.

Stinking with the heart theme for lunch...man cookie cutters make everything fun!

But he always gives in

He always tries so hard to look unimpressed

"Oh no, I forgot it was Valentines!" (actually one handed peek a boo)

Peek a boo????....

....or pick a booger!!!!!

Our day was not all cookie-cutter bliss.
There was lots of the normal everyday messiness/potty-training/running out of toilet paper cuz Levi keeps playing in the potty/ McKye PLEEEASSSE put some undies on regular life.

McKye requested "playdough cookies"
I don't think he actual knows you can make real cookies with cookie cutters,
cuz we never have!

McKye learned our last name and he's a tad obsessed. "Daddy Bretzke! Mommy Bretzke! Mckye Bretzke!"

The one on the right was only a little sarcastic

Aaron had my chocolates from Ben before I'd even seen them, signing "Open!"as fast as he could. 

I did get my flowers. Good job Benny.

I was brave and wore my glasses out for our date. 

Then we had a delicious dinner...

prepared by our talented friend

And even though we already had dessert.....

...we went out again!

Girls on one side...

Boys on the other. HA HA Bets Valentines date ever!

From the Bretzke Family!

Lessons in love

We had a lovely Relief Society lesson today on 

Loving Thy Neighbour as Thyself. 

In the lesson manual was this picture:

I love it. 

Did you read the caption?

"Go about radiating sunshine". 

What I love about it, is that at first glance one would think the young, energietic, blonde would be the one offering the sunshine, right?

But look again.

Who is shining?

Can you even look at the women in bed and not smile?!?

I just want to hug her! 

She is someone the world would look right past, but look what she has to offer?

Pure sunshine!

I'm sure the older women's spirits were lifted by the young lady's efforts to come and see her, 

but I bet ya, that young lady was far more affected by the encounter.

We hear it all the time: that service brings our own problems into perspective. But I think the true value of service is in what we feel-- how the Lord gives us little tastes of His love for others, and how that in turn teaches us of the depths of the love He has for us.

Whenever I think of really learning about the Lords love I think of the 

Mary and Donald.

Although I served my mission on Temple Square, I also served "off the Square" for a time in Idaho City.  The name isn't exactly accurate. It's a very small town, up in the mountains east of Boise. 

Mary and Donald struggled coming out to church due to various health issues. There had been some offensive situations that had also discouraged them from full activity, and Donald when I met him was struggling with some word of wisdom issues.

My companion (oh, she was thee best!) and I would visit with them weekly. Mary would welcome us into their humble home, a fifth wheel Donald had added an enclosed porch onto. Mary would greet us with hugs and her beautiful smile, which always erupted into a little giggles. She never held back her excitement that we had come, and expressed her gratitude multiple times during our brief visits. We would sit at their little table and Mary would treat us with lessons she'd prepared for us out of her old Relief Society manuals. Donald sat near by, at first with the TV softly playing and then eventually with it turned off...we knew he was listening though he never wanted to let on.

We didn't do much teaching, or challenging or committed at Mary and Donald's we just let them know we cared. 

One day Donald told us he'd stopped drinking coffee. We were elated. 

Then in his quiet voice, with his shy face turned down, he said how one night after our visit he decided he would stop drinking coffee. 

"As I got into bed," he said, "it was like I felt a large hand pat me on the back." He looked up at us through his tear-filled eyes, "The Lord loves me don't he?"

We all cried. 

And we assured him, "Yes Donald, the Lord does love you! He loves you so much."

And we felt it. 

We felt the love the Lord had for Mary. Sweet, kind Mary.

And we felt the love the Lord had for Donald. Timid, guarded Donald.

And because we felt his love for them so strong, so unconditional, so full...

we also felt his love for us. 

He loves us despite all our failings and weaknesses, that we knew all too well.

The picture of me Mary and Donald above, was taken by my friend Desi, on a trip we took back to Idaho City, on one of the rare occasions when neither of us had a new baby to lug along.

I hadn't said much about Mary and Donald before we'd gone to see them, but I had shared how excited I was to see them. 

When we left Desi was visibly moved. First by their humble circumstances, but mostly by the great admiration she saw I had for them. 

"They really are special aren't they, " she concluded. 

"Yup. They really are," I agreed.

"We all are, aren't we." She processed. 

"Yup. We all are. We're all very special."

I'm grateful for people like Mary and Donald who have taught me about true worth, real love, and the nobility within us all. 

 In my mind Donald and Mary might as well be a King and Queen, 

I wish I could remember to look for that divinity in all God's children.

Because it's there. In every one of us.

We just have to look.

We look upon all men as our brothers, all women as our sisters; we look upon the face of every human being that is in the world as a child of our Father, and believe that as each is in the image of the Father, so also each possesses a spark of divinity that if developed will prepare us to return to His presence. …I have never seen a child of God so deep in the gutter that I have not had the impulse to stoop down and lift him up and put him on his feet and start him again. I would like to say I have never seen one of my Father’s children in my life that I have not realized he was my brother and that God loves every one of his children.

    --Pres. George Albert Smith