A summer breath

I feel like this whole month 
I just throw stuff in the van as we run off to slather on sunscreen and splash away glorious summer hours, filled with little buddies and blue skies until we come home exhausted with pinkened cheeks, smelling of bugspray, and lil' boy sweat, as I throw the same stuff outta the van. Swimsuits, and floaties, lawn chairs and umbrellas, sad buckets and baseball bats. The paraphernalia of summer. 


The props for our summer play.

Today though, after a pretty rockin' night (of Aaron up at 3am, McKye, who's mastered the art of demanding "hot chocolate milk!" while I'm sure he's still dead asleep, and Levi deciding he needs our king bed all to himself again)  we declined invites to park hop, to swim, and to even go to the circus and just stayed home.


I've been packin in the Summer-fun pretty tight, loving that I don't have a babe in tow (on my hip or inside my womb!) but I think we all needed a day of regroup. 




I got cranky last night. While I'd been living life in my swimsuit and sunglasses, my house was feeling neglected, my scriptures had been a little too rushed for a little too long, and as a result I just was feeling run a little ragged.


In rearrangign our downstairs so Ben's brother could store his furniture here while he serves his two year mission in Africa, we found water damage. Combine that with my dishwasher acting up on top of the garburator  we just got fixed  and the mouse pad on the laptop seems to be getting finicky... I suddenly felt the fragility of our comfort.


And it made me stop.


And think about what I have. And what I need to not over look.


And so instead of writing my long over due post on our PEI trip, I felt like I needed to take this rare sliver of quiet and be grateful.


Grateful for friends who share their snacks with my kids and their hearts with me. 
Who I wish I was better at serving, who comfort and validate me so perfectly, but who when it's my turn, I often feel I don't know how to help, so I try and just listen.
Friends who will happily bring their kids over to my messy house and sit on my crumby couches and don't judge. Cuz they know, it's just impossible some days.
Friends who let thier eyes well up with mine as I blubbery tell them how long I've waited to watch one of my kids run off with friends...real little buddies, instead of orchestrating "appropriate socail peers". 
Grateful for freinds who care about mothering as much as I do, and worry about it too. Friends who are willing to text me in the morning and  ask, "So, what we doign today?" 

And who let me bale somtimes, without holding it against me. 
Easy-- there for ya friends, who help me think out loud so I can figure out what the heck I actually think. Who know I will do the same for them. That we can jump in the car and by the end of a good drive feel like we figured out life again. That we sifted threw all the half thoughts and unrealized concerns and found the essence of what we want and what we know is right. 
So grateful for friends.

















Grateful for a hubby who does so much and works so hard and balances out his wife so well. 


Grateful for a hubby I can flirt with (I know you'd never think it, cuz we're so non-PDA!) and that I can talk to. I love that he listens to me when I get crazy and tells me I'm doing just fine. 


Grateful for his friendship and his forgiveness and his patience (like when I can not for the life of me stay awake to watch anything past ten o clock!).










I'm grateful for my kids. 

For Aaron who makes me take nothing for granted and pushes me to my emotional limits and who continues to teach me the mysteries of love that I thought I already knew, but really had no idea.

Grateful for McKye and his silly faces and developing sense of humor  that how he already uses it as a defence mechanism and to lighten the mood...a peacemaker, like his dad. Grateful that he's my little buddy, that I genuinely enjoy him, and look forward to the adult he's becoming. Grateful for how he keeps me accountable--mirroring my own moods and tone of voice, in ways that keep me humble and in check. Grateful for his seemingly natural sense of confidence that reaches back though our shared DNA to heal my own insecurities. Grateful for his awareness and developing ability to see and meet the needs of others, especially his brothers, and his ever-needy mom.

I'm grateful for Levi. How I can't even look at his sun-bleached hair and his baby thighs that run and jump in such boyish ways, without my heart just gushing with love. Loving every stage. Loving how he reminds me of all my boys, mixed into one and yet his own distinct character. And what a character. So bold and daring, so playful, in his moments of deliberate bashfulness, so carefully contrived to win hearts.  Grateful he snuggled in so well in our little established family, filling us up and filling us out with his eager grins, and knowing eyes.








But these are the obvious. Family, friends. 
Marrow to the bones of my life.


But I'm grateful for lots of little things too.


Automatic doors on my van.
Toe nail polish. (Thanks Rebecca ;)

For yellow pants ya didn't think you could pull off, but friends made you buy anyway.
Sister in laws who tidy the house before we come home 
and work themselves into the diaper rotation.

Long distance phone plans.
Shade. Under trees and trampolines.
Dry shampoo. (Rebecca, once again;)
Straws and cool liquids when my brain starts feeling a little fried.
Water hoses.

And how much laundry I can shove into my washer.

Running barefoot.
Scriptures that expose my soul to it's own desires, good and bad.
Memories (and picture to help retain them!)
Raspberries. (aren't they the best?!?!)





































Music that makes me run faster, and lyrics that make me feel deeper.
Books that inspire me.
People who hold up a fortitude and courage for life, that make me want to find the kindness and joyfulness they have reached. Who don't even know I'm looking.
Fans for hot bedrooms.
And purses that hold a lot.
Cute shirts and that I didn't end up totally regretting that I cut bangs.
Instagrams that make me smile. Even when they're of strangers.
And random Facebook messages from people who read my blog that make me want to keep writing.
Cereal for dinner. 
And thunderstorms.

And bedtime.




Mostly, I'm grateful for the way gratitude tumbles and grows and gains momentum, til you see everything with a grateful heart. Until you're grateful for the every heart beat, every breath, that we're granted to learn and grow in this life. 
Even for every ache and discomfort that leads to grater empathy and a grander perspective.






So today, when we are all too sleepy to be splashing, I am grateful, grateful this is my life, despite the sleepless nights or rough housing that inevitably ends in tears, despite feeling ridiculoud that after cleaning for an hour straight,  I can still feel so irritated that my freezer is such a sticky-melted-popsicle-mess!


To remind myself to breath and remember, I am blessed. 


So very blessed.

Highlights from 1978

 I was looking up this quote: 
"The cultivation of Christlike qualities is a demanding and relentless task—it is not for the seasonal worker or for those who will not stretch themselves, again and again."

Pres Kimball and his Camilla

by Pres, Kimball.  It was given in a special women's fireside in 1978. 


I love reading old talks. I love seeing how the answers remain constant. How the gospel is applicable whether we are teasing our hair into beehives or straightening it with flat irons. In a world that wants us "tossed to and fro, and carried about with every wind of doctrine"(Ephesians 4:14)...that can't make up their mind about anything, from which way to place our babies in their cribs to what style of jeans is most flattering, it feels so good to see that when the dust settles from of all the different opinions and swirling advice, the foundation of truth will have remained unscathed. 


That the way to happiness, how ever unfashionable, has and will always be unselfishness, righteousness, service and love. That fulfilment and joy are eternal quests, governed by eternal principles, whether we dwell in dessert tents or convenient suburbs. 


So here's some highlights. OR the whole talk "Privileges and Responsibilities of Sisters"


Enjoy.


[QUOTE]

Study the scriptures. Thus you may gain strength through the understanding of eternal things. You...need this close relationship with the mind and will of our Eternal Father. We want our sisters to be scholars of the scriptures...

You need an acquaintanceship with his eternal truths for your own well being, and for the purposes of teaching your own children and all others who come within your influence. 

Some young people think of happiness as a glamorous life of ease, luxury, and constant thrills, but true marriage is based on happiness that is more than that, one that comes from giving, serving, sharing, sacrificing, and selflessness. 

When I think of the women of the Church, I think of my own beloved Camilla and how greatly our family has been blessed because of her talents and leadership. What makes her—and literally millions of others of you like her—so trustworthy and so trusting? I think there are some realities to look at. 

For one thing, Mormon women are basically  

strong, independent, and faithful.

They have chosen to live by a creed and a way of life that can be demanding at best. From the earliest days of the Church, active membership has meant faith, fortitude, denial, selflessness, and good service.

Each of you should be grateful to be a woman! Self-pity is always a sad thing to see and especially when there is no justification for it. 

To be a righteous woman is a glorious thing in any age. To be a righteous woman during the winding up scenes on this earth, before the second coming of our Savior, is an especially noble calling. The righteous woman’s strength and influence today can be tenfold what it might be in more tranquil times. She has been placed here to help to enrich, to protect, and to guard the home—which is society’s basic and most noble institution. Other institutions in society may falter and even fail, but the righteous woman can help to save the home, which may be the last and only sanctuary some mortals know in the midst of storm and strife.

One of the important messages that emerges from the history of great women in all ages is that they cared more for the future of their families than for their own comfort. Such good women had a grasp of what matters in life. When called upon to do so, they could fashion a lovely city in the midst of a swamp or make the desert blossom as a rose. 

Selflessness is a key to happiness and effectiveness; it is precious and must be preserved as a virtue which guarantees so many other virtues. There are so many things in the world which reinforce our natural selfishness, and neither our men nor women should be partakers thereof. 

We have grown strong as a people because our mothers and our women have been so selfless. That ennobling quality must not be lost, even though some of the people of the world may try to persuade otherwise...We hope our women as well as our men will be conscious of the philosophies of the world which would attempt to reverse the wisdom of the Lord when he told us that we can find ourselves only by losing ourselves.

There is a constant need to develop and to maintain tenderness. The world’s ways harden us. The tenderness of our women is directly linked to the tenderness of our children. The women of the Church do so much to teach our sons and daughters and to prepare the rising generation. Let us make no mistake about it—the home is the seedbed of Saints!  

Women display a remarkable capacity to love, to cope, along with a remarkable empathy for others in difficulty, which moves women to service as they express their goodness quietly. 

Women, so often, are charity personified.

It is true of all of us that, as we progress spiritually, our sense of belonging, identity, and self-worth increases. 

Let us create a climate in which we encourage the sisters of the Church to have a program of personal improvement. It ought to be a practical and realistic program, which is determined personally and not imposed upon them. Yet it ought to cause them to reach for new levels of achievement. We are not asking for something spectacular but rather for the women of the Church to find real self-fulfillment through wise self-development in the pursuit of righteous and worthy endeavours. 

...Good women are articulate as well as affectionate....We know that women who will improve their relationships with the Father in Heaven will also improve their relationships with their neighbors.

The cultivation of Christlike qualities is a demanding and relentless task—it is not for the seasonal worker or for those who will not stretch themselves, again and again.

Each of you sisters has the right and the responsibility to direct your own life.This is a partnership. God and his creation. The Primary song says, “I am a child of God.” Born with a noble birthright. God is your father. He loves you. He and your mother in heaven value you beyond any measure. They gave your eternal intelligence spirit form, just as your earthly mother and father have given you a mortal body. You are unique. One of a kind, made of the eternal intelligence which gives you claim upon eternal life.

He has entrusted to his daughters the great responsibility of bearing and nurturing children. This is the great, irreplaceable work of women. It was never easy to bear and rear children, but easy things do not make for growth and development. 

Much is said about the drudgery and the confinement of the woman’s role in the home. In the perspective of the gospel it is not so. There is divinity in each new life. There is challenge in creating the environment in which a child can grow and develop. 

The Lord has never promised us that we will be free of problems and challenges. He has, however, promised that with faith we will have the strength to meet any eventuality in this life.

 Prepare for and live as full a life as can be your privilege.

[END QUOTE]

I think I will Pres. Kimball. I think I'll try today to live that life,  to remember the big picture and eternal significance of my efforts. The privilege my responsibilities are. 

Perspective from playtime persnickety

per·snick·et·y/pərˈsnikətē/

Adjective:

Placing too much emphasis on trivial or minor details; fussy. Requiring a particularly precise or careful approach.

My McKye, is all about his "groceries".
It started because I didn't want him dumping the whole bin of fake food when he played "kitchen",
so I bought a litte second hand shopping basket and told him he could "shop" from the bin each day.

It was one of those moment I felt like a pretty smart mom.

Then he decided that little basket of food had to go everywhere with him. Out smarted, again.

"Get in the car McKye! Quick, we got a go!"


"My groceries!"
( he also dumps out my other sorted toy bins so he can put his play cash register in them and carry that around...so much for my brillant idea)



So the other day, I was at the computer and McKye was playing behind me. I, suddenly realizing he wouldn't play like this forever, grabbed my camera and started snapping pictures. 


Taking pictures make me really look at my kids. 


And as I snapped away I realized something. 

He was being soooooooooo particular!

Placing everything just so.

Replacing it if it wasn't right.
Coming up with his little routine of checking it through the till and getting all flustered if he did something "wrong".

I was so struck by it.
Who cares if the grapes didn't beep? But he did.

And that's when (once again) being a parent made me think of Heavenly Father.

How often does He look down at me, as I get fixated on little details of life that really don't matter at all!

As I get caught up in things being just so? Just because I've decided they need to be?

Made me think of Pres. Uchtdorf 

I want to tell you something that I hope you will take in the right way: God is fully aware that you and I are not perfect.Let me add: God is also fully aware that the people you think are perfect are not.
And yet we spend so much time and energy comparing ourselves to others—usually comparing our weaknesses to their strengths. This drives us to create expectations for ourselves that are impossible to meet. As a result, we never celebrate our good efforts because they seem to be less than what someone else does.Everyone has strengths and weaknesses. It’s wonderful that you have strengths. And it is part of your mortal experience that you do have weaknesses.God wants to help us to eventually turn all of our weaknesses into strengths,¹ but He knows that this is a long-term goal. He wants us to become perfect,² and if we stay on the path of discipleship, one day we will. It’s OK that you’re not quite there yet. Keep working on it, but stop punishing yourself.

Dear sisters, many of you are endlessly compassionate and patient with the weaknesses of others. Please remember also to be compassionate and patient with yourself.
In the meantime, be thankful for all the small successes in your home, your family relationships, your education and livelihood, your Church participation and personal improvement. Like the forget-me-nots, these successes may seem tiny to you and they may go unnoticed by others, but God notices them and they are not small to Him. If you consider success to be only the most perfect rose or dazzling orchid, you may miss some of life’s sweetest experiences.
For example, insisting that you have a picture-perfect family home evening each week—even though doing so makes you and everyone around you miserable—may not be the best choice. Instead, ask yourself, “What could we do as a family that would be enjoyable and spiritual and bring us closer together?” That family home evening—though it may be modest in scope and execution—may have far more positive long-term results.
Our journey toward perfection is long, but we can find wonder and delight in even the tiniest steps in that journey.

Next time I get stuck on thinking things hafta be just right, or even just my way, especially at the expense of others happiness (or even just time I could spend with those I love), I hope to these pictures will pop in my head and remind me.

Aaron's Kindergarten Grad and our thanks to CES

My handsome Aaron. All done kindergarten. 
Wasn't it just yesterday he started kindergarten?

Ben's mom always took full body school shots of her kids infront of pine trees...Ben walked up to me taking this and asked, "One for Grandma?"

His clamastes have taken turns being Aaron's partner when they go to the library or gym
Kids are amazing. They are naturally so accepting. So willing to connect. So free of so many fear that somehow along the way we learn to carry with us.

He looks excited, hey?

Not a fan of hat wearing...wonder if I'll having a matchign picture come grade 1

His wonderful aid. 
(Doesn't Aaron look like a tota teenager in this one?!?!)

Free of his cap and gown and rather happy about it.

The following is the forst draft of my thoughts for a letter I want to send to the Palliser school division...very preliminary first thoughts


I'm so grateful Aaron was able to start out his school career at such a wonderful school.


People ask me all the time why Aaron goes all the way out to Coalhurst, or how on earth do they have money to drive him,or do swimming, horseback riding, gymnastics??? I smile and I say,  "They just get it."  


They don't just talk about inclusion or make it look good on paper or use the write buzz words in their reports.


Inclusion is not a policy. It's who they are. 


They are INCLUSIVE.


For the last 3 years, during Aaron's PUF years, the Coalhurst Elementary has show us what inclusion should look like, what it should feel like and that it is something that,to be successful, has to permeate your whole school in such a way that individual staff and students catch the essence of it. Inclusion is more than the right supports-- it's about the ways that daily interactions and genuine concern support and truly include each child. 


Inclusion is not just a body in a classroom with all the other bodies (unless of course that particular body becomes too disruptive).


No, it is so much more. So many little things you don't see written up in the IPP.


Inclusion is a school secretary who knows my sons favorite clock from her desks collection and holds out for a "hah"ed hello before she hands it over with a reinforcing "Good job, Aaron!"


Inclusion is a reading buddy, leaving her friends to come and crouch down to catch my son's brief eye contact, so she can offer a sincerely excited "Hi Aaron!" When she knows there will be no reply.


Inclusion is the helper kid of the day happily walking hand in hand with Aaron to Music therapy, feeling "special" that it's their turn.


Inclusion is 5 year old "mamma types" who kindly remind Aaron "time to clean up" helping him with a gentle hand over hand approach she's seen the aides use. 


Inclusion is seeing tears well up in a teacher's eyes as she describes to you how amazed she is at the compassion she sees the kids in her class so naturally offer Aaron.


Inclusion is an angelic army of assistants, who dont' just know their "assigned kid" but have stretched their hearts to make room for so many. Learning assistants who are enthusiastic to share with me little progressions and are quick to reassure me about how much my son adds to the classroom. Who have all endured countless kisses and endless hugs from my little boy. Who have let him run his fingers through their nicely done hair, just because they like to see him happy. Who tirelessly ensure a consistency of expectation that not only helps Aaron grow, but makes him feel safe. Assistants who undoubtedly go home exhausted everyday, and yet return all smiles and energy the next.


Inclusion is a teacher from an older grade calling down the hall "Brrrrrretz-keeeee!" because he knows that rubbing his shaved bald head brings Aaron massive amounts of joy. He let's him rub his head! Runs down the hall to give Aaron the pleasure! To the point where Aaron thinks any bald head he sees out in public is free game.


Inclusion is every child knowing that Aaron's all about high fives. 

Inclusion is a little girl who notices Aaron's getting anxious on the bus and just starts patting his hand while she continues talking with her friends.


Inclusion is the way each child knows what Aaron needs, that if his aid is distracted momentarily, they'll hand him a fidget or give him a little squeeze.  They know what he likes and what he needs and what sets him off and it's not "Autism" they see, it's just Aaron. Oh that's just Aaron. Sometimes he head butts you if you get to close to his puzzle. Oh that's just Aaron, sometimes he just starts laughing, so we laugh along.


Wheelchairs and sensory tools, speech paths and PEC binders at CES are a much of the school environment as back packs and markers. 


Inclusion is really just a fancy, more professional term for love.


That't what Coalhurst Elementary has offered my son--
their love.


Which is really all we want for him. What we give him at home and what made sending him off to school so scary.




But you patiently calmed all our fears, and wildly exceeded our expectations. 


In high fives and head rubs, you gave Aaron so much love.


And we will love you forever for it.

--The Bretzke Family

Back to the lambs

I need a new journal. Funny how my journals always tend to run out of pages just as changes come along in life. (Maybe I should start buying thicker journals!!!)

But for now I guess it'll go here...

I'd been home from my girl's weekend less than 15 minutes when my Ben told me the Bishop was coming over.

As I (quickly) tidied the kitchen, I wondered what Ben's new calling would be. After all I'd finally reached that point in my calling where I felt like I kinda knew what I was doing--that I'd "settled"in.
I should have known. 


Instead, as I glanced up at my reflection in our darkened kitchen window, the Spirit told me.

When the Bishop confirmed it, I had one of those flash before you eyes moments (no I wasn't dying, though I could have been in a little bit of shock). In each flash, I saw all these subtle ways the Lord had been hinting--no, preparing me.

Little conversations with friends currently serving in primary who shared their love of their callings. Who spoke of their time there as a privilege and their responsibilities as joyous...who just couldn't imagine a better place to be, then feeling the Spirit with the purest of our Father's children.


Random reunions with women who had lead and taught me in my first experiences with Primary. Sisters of energy, of faith, who absolutely shone with love. I'll never forget how the one president I worked with (who just happened to have an autistic son, and who was one of the first people I wanted to talk to when Aaron was diagnosed because I knew she'd say everything I needed to hear, and she did) applied the principle taught in D& C 89 to primary, by "[adapting] to the capacity of the weak and the weakest" of the children. Who was  so open to trying new things, and adjusting to the needs of the kids, regardless of what was typical done. Who served with such delight. And such enthusiasm--it made everyone else want to give a thousand percent too! Who told me, I was important, that what I was doing made a different and was contributing to the foundation of faith in these individual children's lives and the church as a whole. Who complimented me, and thanked me, who encouraged me to put forth my very best efforts and never give into the temptation to get too confortable or "wing it". But to prepare--not just great visuals or fun activities, but to prepare spiritually, to prepare my mind, my heart and my life so I could teach and testify with power.

Gratitude for the amazing teachers who have served my children in primary. Patient nursery leaders who have pried my crying toddlers from my arms and let them cling to them while they rock and wait for the toys and activities to induce them out of their trepidation. Is there anything you're more grateful for than a nursery leader that convinces your child to stay in nursery so you can (after a year and a half of hiding in the mother's lounge and pacing the halls) finally sit through a sunday school class and a relief society lesson??? I have deep respect for good nursery workers.




And then there's those who have helped Aaron.  I recently read this quote from Pres Eyring:

Many bishops in the Church are inspired to call the strongest people in the ward to serve individual children in the Primary. They realize that if the children are strengthened with faith and testimony, they will be less likely to need rescue as teenagers. They realize that a strong spiritual foundation can make the difference for a lifetime.

Oh when I read that line phrase individual children! Instantly I saw the many wonderful brethren who have sat in primary letting Aaron sit on their knee, play with their beards, and hug them to pieces. Could there be a more Christlike calling? Then to minister to one little special boy, week after week? Their kindness and patience for our different little lamb, who some days just needs to lay on the floor, or wants to watch the drinking fountain for half of class, or gets super squealing during music time or erupts into a fit of laughter right before a prayer, has made all the difference. They have been ministering angels not just to Aaron but to our family. They have helped us make church a "doable" thing, when I remember days I would be holding Aaron in some secluded corner of the church, sobbing and thinking I might never get to really "attend" church ever again, being tempted for the first time in my life with the thought that maybe it wasn't worth it. But inspired leaders were inspired to call great people who took my boy...took him to primary, and helped him belong, and made sure I knew they were happy to do so. Happy to help in what I will always consider a miracle.

Forgotten memories of beautiful spiritual experiences I've shared with sunbeams. Miracles, I'd given up on asking for, but that were nevertheless brought to pass by the inspiring faith of one little boy who told me he was gonna pray for my son, with such ferver in his face that I was chastised instantly for my own disbelief.

That is something primary constantly does for me. It shows me the power of putting away all the doubt and fear and "grown-up" approaches to the gospel, so often diluted by our own biases and pride...and instead see and use the faith of a child.

I remember one little boy, he was attending our ward with his foster family. He'd only been coming a few months. Everything about church--the gospel, the Saviour--was brand new to him.

We'd been preparing for the primary presentation and I was asking the kids if they remembered who we were practicing to sing their songs to (expecting them to say their parents) This little boy looked up at me and with such excitement on his face asked, "Jesus?!?!?"

Of course! Why wouldn't he think Jesus would come listen to him sing? We'd been talking about Him, how much He loves us all. It made prefect sense, to this little boy that Jesus would show up!

And as I realized how real the Saviour was to this boy who had only been taught about Him for a few months, I knew I need to remind myself that He IS that real.

And if He did show up next Sunday...He's head to the primary room!

I love feeling the Spirit of the simplicity of the gospel, as it is taught to the believing hearts of children.


I remember, when we moved and how with a new baby on the way I was feeling a little relieved about saying good bye to my calling, as wonderful as it had been. But then sitting in the bishops office and watching as our our whole presidency was unexpectedly released. Watching my president crying because she loved serving so much. She was called right back in as a primary worker teacher. Had I not served with her and learned not only how to organize and delegate and "run" things effectively but how to make all our efforts spiritual endevers. She had the spirit of her calling directing her, helping her know what to focus on and what to let go, and always in all the administrating, never forgetting to bethinking and serving "the one".

Remember all these things, while I sat there in shock on my couch, nodding at the Bishop, helped me feel that the call had come from the Lord, who had both prepared me and would remain with me.
So it would be okay.




I went into GO mode after being called and tackled my RS binder to get it all cleaned out for the "hand off". I was just changing out the front conver picture when Ben walked in and said "Wow, you transition fast!"

And I looked at these two picture and thought, it's all just love.

I thought about the women I'd tried to know and serve and care about and welcome and pray for and unite with. I thought about how much I loved them.







I thought about all my new little lambs. (Have you seen the Seminary video about trying to save the lambs!?!) I thought about my own three little rambunctious sheep. Each so unique. I thought about the worry, about the hopes, about all th feelings of a mother's heart.
I thought abotu how much I already loved the mother sheep in our ward. How I know the constant worry of their hearts. How I've sat and talked with many of them as they've talked about their kids, with the fever of love only a mother heart can emote.

And I realized, I may be taking out this picture, but I'm still serving those mother's! I was filled with desire and determination to be the sister serving in primary that you hope your child will have. That when you prayer for help and support and for your child to "turn out"... I wanted to be part, however small, of what the Lord gave as the "answer".

Parts of this calling terrify me. But knowing that the Bishop sees that absolute chaos of our Bretzke bench at church every week, that surely would not make him or anyone else think, "Huh, see that lady who seems to have no control whatsoever over her kids??? bet she'd make a great primary president!"


Nope, the Lord knows my heart. He knows my many weaknesses as well, and blessed me with an incredible presidency to fill in my many gaps. I know the only reason I'm not paralyzed by my inadequacies is because I know I have them to lean on and rely heavily upon on their many amazing strengths.

Im gratful for callings and how they take us beyond our perceived limitations into areas were we can't "do it alone". Our service is perfectly orchastrated to help us rely on the Lord. Our Good Shepherd.

I gave a primary training once using Ezekiel 34 where the Lord talks to the shepherds in Israel. I'll never forget looking into those wonderful primary teachers eyes and saying, 
"We have the lambs." 
So young. So fragile. So eager for nourishment. So needing the protection and love of the fold.

So needing to be brought to and held by the arms of our Saviour, who knows His Sheep.
Individually. Perfectly.





I pray I can share my love for the Saviour with the little lambs in our little primary fold, because I truly do love Him and am grateful for His constant shepherding over me.