Today...

*Maryn helped clean up like nobody's business and didn't complain once!
*Brynna read me a funny story she wrote about a vampire that eats all the candy instead of giving it to Trick-or-Treaters.
*Lauryn was her usual moody/hilarious/bossy/delightful self.
*Devyn smiled and her whole face lit up she she saw her Daddy.

Sundays

I was joking with my friend Laura at church today, after the Sacrament Service, that trying to keep four, young children happy and quiet through church can feel like Chinese water torture sometimes. Every little fight or fuss or whatever that breaks out while you are trying to preserve the reverence for those around you picks at your sanity until you find yourself feeling completely unraveled.

When I only had two kids, I oftentimes came to church alone without Justin. I wondered some weeks, even though my testimony was strong, why I even came to church at all. Instead of being able to be in the classes and meetings being edified (which I needed so bad) I found myself walking the halls with my children, constantly soothing someone else.

In retrospect I am so glad I stuck it out and kept it up though. My parental workload has only increased over the years and it would have been easy to just say it was too much and stay home with Justin. But I am glad that even if it put me at wit's end most days, that my children and my husband knew that on Sundays I woke up, put on our best and went to worship in whatever way I could.

What kept me going was the thought that our actions define who we are. I had a testimony and I couldn't just shelf it because life was hard. I couldn't just shelf it because more was required of me than others, it seemed like. Even if I felt like some weeks I went home with my own personal well still depleted, the Lord has found ways to bless me throughout the years for doing what I knew was right; even when it seemed like I was getting nothing out of it.

I am beyond grateful that Justin is now by my side at church each week. I am grateful that my actions, even when it wasn't easy, showed him where my heart was at and what was important to me. It helped him to find the desire to rekindle his own testimony. It means so much to me to be able to share my spiritual side with my husband. It means so much that even though life is crazy, I know I have my back-up right next to me. It makes all the difference knowing we are in it together. We are a team. We are unified in purpose.

Today as Justin took a restless Devyn from me to go walk the halls with her so I could go to class, I just thought about how much I love him. How grateful I am that he is my husband. While it was so hard at the time, I am glad that I weathered those Sundays alone. I am glad that I had to really think hard about my testimony and what it meant to me. Glad that I fought for what I believed even if it meant a lonely road for awhile.

I don't take for granted that even if we are a wild and restless bunch some weeks and it feels like Chinese water torture, we are all there. There is no one unaccounted for. I am grateful for the trials of the past because they have made the blessings of my present so very much sweeter. I am grateful for a husband who loved me enough to seek a change of heart. I am infinitely thankful for a loving Father in Heaven who has shown time and time again that He will find ways to bless and lift up those who earnestly seek Him.

Dear Keira...

This was a response to a sweet message sent to me by my husband's awesome cousin, Keira. She was congratulating me on the recent news that a short piece I submitted to be condsidered for publication in a collaborative book on motherhood was selected.

Keira, thank you so much! It's funny, like I said it is just a small snippet in a book full of other authors. But it's amazing what a boost it was to me. When I entered my submissions I remember thinking "This is such a waste of time. No one is ever going to pick me." Every time the people compiling the book would send out update emails saying they hadn't chosen the winners yet because they were working their way through piles of submissions and running them through different judging panels, I thought "I should just mark these emails as spam because even when they do pick the winners, I won't make the cut. Why waste my time reading all these update emails?" Even as I was reading the final list of winners, I was scrolling down, down, down and I was no where to be seen and I thought "See, I was right. I knew I wouldn't make it." Then in the last chapter, second to last on the list of authors, there was my name. I was shocked.

I was the girl no one ever told was capable of doing anything out of the ordinary. No one ever talked to me about grades, or pushing myself or college. My parents are wonderful people, but seriously, I think they were just happy to see me barely graduate from high school. I have spent my adult life scratching and working hard for any feathers in my cap. But in the back of my mind, I knew I wasn't really good at anything. The directionless girl starving for self-esteem from my teenage years haunted me, chased me.

The first glimmer of hope in myself came after I ran my first and singular marathon. I wasn't an athlete. I wasn't a runner. But I was tired of being a quitter. And so I literally ran away from that girl. That doubter. I ran away from the voices in my head that told me I wasn't strong enough to do hard things. That finish line was a new start.

But demons are hard to keep away...

So I could finish something. So what. I was still considerably dumber than those around me.

The demons were on my back again. So I went back to school last year with four kids, which in itself is completely nuts. But I had again found myself toe-to-toe with a breaking point in my life where I had something to prove. Priority number one in sticking it to those demons was, in addition to other coursework, was to start with Math classes. I hadn't been in school in over a decade and I was pretty sure I was crazy. I had previously repeatedly flunked out of Math classes in high school, because let's face it, I'm an idiot.

I worked my tail off and studied until the wee hours of the morning. I literally cried tears of frustration and pulled on my hair. I wasn't one of those who's mind was mathematically wired. But the shadows of underachievement stalked after me and so I pushed forward, in hopes of getting out of their reach.

Report cards came back and I got straight A's. The next semester, the classes got harder and once again I was able, through sheer grit, to pull off straight A's again.

We ended up moving and so I wasn't able to keep going to school. But those two semesters taught me that maybe being a worthless idiot was a lie I sold myself. Maybe it wasn't that no one never believed in me. Maybe their belief was just strangled by my own unbelief and went unrecognized.

Writing is something I am not good at, it's something that I enjoy. Any dreams I had of ever getting published or writing a children's book were ridiculous pipe dreams. Uneducated, unextraordinary people like myself don't have their loftiest dreams come true. They die with sweet visions of could-have-beens floating through the windows of their mind, knowing their life found meaning in other ways.

But seeing my name in the Twelfth Chapter of that book, which is ironically about 'The Power of Moments,' was the hammer to my thick skull that someone else saw the value in what I have to bring to this world. I know I will never be the fastest, I will never be the strongest, the smartest or the most decorated. But dang it, I matter. I'm worth something. I have something to contribute and share.

I don't have to be scared to try or to shoot for my loftiest dreams. Because at the end of the day I know I am of worth. Not because somebody else told me so, but because finally for the first time in my whole life I believe it for myself. And even if I fail and go down in a burning ball of flames, I have the confidence of knowing that at least failure teaches you sweeter lessons than the apathy of never giving a rip to push yourself.

Seeing my name at the end of that list triggered a new starting line in my life. One where I, finally in my heart of hearts, believe that I can run without the companionship of constant, nagging doubt. But rather I can run towards my dreams with lungs full of hope, breathing to life who I really can become.

New Digs

This is a bad picture pulled off the realtor's website. But Justin just signed the papers today on this little place for us! Our move date has officially been set for next week and while I will seriously miss being so close to my family, I am so excited to be able to be going back home to Georgia. It's kind of weird moving into a house that I have never been in. But Justin says he likes the different feel of it. There is an alley way behind the house where you pull into the garage/basement level. (I get to have a food storage room again!!) The main level has the kitchen/living/dining/office. The second level is three bedrooms and the third level there is a playroom for the girls. What I am familiar with is the neighborhood, Harmony on the Lakes. It is family heaven. Many of our very good friends, including my best friend Laura are a short walk up the street. The entire neighborhood has sidewalks, walking trails, lakes, tennis, swim, playgrounds. Basically I am just very excited for the atmosphere for our girls that Harmony provides.

Maryn and Brynna will be starting school at Cherokee Charter Academy. At first they were skeptical about going to a charter school. But have warmed up to the idea of smaller class sizes and uniforms, since as Brynna put it tonight "No one will be all worried about being fancier than everyone else!" We are excited for Lauryn and Devyn to be able to take their turn at Canton First United Methodist Preschool, where their older sisters had fabulous preschool experiences. Justin and I are beyond excited to be able to be back in the Hickory Flat Ward. Our hearts are with those members and we love them like family. Practically every time Justin calls he tells me "I am just so excited for you to get back here. Everyone is so amazing." Even my old job told me that they would love to have me back if I was interested in working whatever amount of hours I wanted.

Today the girls and I were dreaming of enjoying a Georgia Fall. I told them that since the driveways are behind the houses on our street, trick-or-treating will be super easy with no driveways to hike up! It's just the fast track to the candy lane! We are also dreaming of Burt's Pumpkin Farm, wassail made from fresh-pressed cider from Hillcrest Orchards. Maryn even suggested that I try my hand at homemade apple pie with some North Georgia mountain apples. (We always left the pies to Grammy, who now lives in Arizona, so it's time for me to step up to the plate!) I am not trying to idealize it, because we have had some tough times in Georgia too and I know life has it's inevitable ups and downs. But it is home. It feels right. After spending the past two years feeling kind of like an outsider, with a few exceptions, it feels good to be walking into open and loving arms and a great life for our children.

Journal Entry - #3

I wrote this entry toward the end of last year...the situation, despite hope of change, remains the same. It's a hard thing...loving someone who's only return is a heavy dose of deep and aching hurt.

As part of my grade for a critical thinking class I took a couple of semesters ago, I had to keep a journal and write about various assigned topics. It was nothing special, just a writing exercise. But they are snippets of me and rather than letting them get shuffled around and lost, I thought I would post some of them on here...

Write about a bad habit, either of yours or that of someone close to you.

'Bad habits' evoke visions of something trivial in my mind. Like my daughter's thumb-sucking habit or my husband's nail biting habit. I wish all bad habits were one's who's greatest consequence were in the inability to scratch a good itch or who guaranteed yourself as a future patient to the local Orthodontist.

Tonight however, my mind is on habits that are far less innocent. Tonight, my mind is on my brother.

My Mom and Dad have both mentioned that out of all their five children, Matt showed great promise. He was one they saw as a child and thought would be very successful in life. Matt is 32 years old and living in a motel my parents pay for to keep him off the streets. He has no car, a minimum wage job he hates that is far below his abilities and has burned every bridge imaginable. He has lied to all of us, stolen from us and has held my parents hostage to witness the destruction and downward spiral of his life.

Matt is a drug addict.

Matt, the child with so much promise....

Despite being given every opportunity to succeed and for redemption and rehabilitation, he has managed to make a wreck of his life. One defined by bad habits, bad choices, vices and running away when things get too tough. With guilt I have many times pondered on the fact that Matt's hard road made mine easier in a way. I have still had to live through the hell of watching my brother destroy himself. But his actions helped shape my own paths of life. There have been nights I have cried, wishing more bumps in my own road of life if they could have meant my brother could have been clean. If he could have lived the life he should have lived.

I am just 18 months younger than my brother. I had a front row seat to watching Matt destroy himself. It took away any temptation in me put a toe on his side of the line. By the time we were both out of high school, Matt's bad habits included chain smoking, excessive drinking, gambling and every drug imaginable, he had done it or was doing it. I on the other hand had gone to the other extreme. Once in the ninth grade I took one puff off a friend's cigarette. That was the end of my foray into the world of vice. To this day, as a 30 year old woman, I have never drank alcohol, never done drugs and even chose to wait until I was in a committed relationship and married to have sex. Because of Matt, in part, I won't allow myself to have vice or addiction play even the smallest role in my life.

Not even an innocent morning cup of coffee or caffeinated beverage.

Matt has always been torn between loving me and hating me. I am after all his only sister. But I have seen him seethe at me as he growled "You stupid, goody-goody b*tch." I hated that he pigeon-holed me like that. Like the intention of my life was to make him look even worse. It wasn't. Never has been, never will be. I just couldn't bring myself to accept the risk of his mistakes for myself. As much as he struggles with hating me, in a way he helped mold me into the person he despises.

I am determined to make of my life what Matt wouldn't make of his own. To live and feel rather than numbly survive. To love the people in my life, not a chemical, not a feeling, not a high. To have goals for myself and work hard towards them, not wonder as I wander aimlessly towards the next hit what I could have done or been. The price was too high and I wish I could take it back; make it different. But out of all the heartache I have to say, thank you Matt, for helping me to take nothing in this life for granted. I owe you one brother.

She Did It!

My friend Beth told me I had to read this book. So I ordered it from Amazon and when I finally read it I was laughing out loud! It was like someone had been spying on my life and written a book about it! It's about "Four sisters, different sizes. Four sisters, early risers. Bouncing balls, climbing trees, tossing mud into the breeze..." Basically it's the tale of four, spirited sisters who were always getting into trouble and pinning the blame on each other....yes, it's a familiar scene here at the Young household!

With Justin in Georgia these past two weeks (and at least two more to go...) trying to get life set up for us there, it's just been me running single parent mode. Which with four, little busy bees is no walk in the park. (Not to mention I am trying to pack up my entire house in the process....) But I like this book because it reminds me that even if most days the kids are seeming to want to go all WWF on each other and I feel I can't take another minute of the bickering, that someday (hopefully sooner than later!) they will band together as sisters and know that despite their differences they can come together, create a united front and know the truly are sisters for life.

I Feel...

I feel hopeful.

I feel a spring in my step.

I feel like dancing.

I feel grateful.

I feel more centered.

I feel anticipation.

I feel blessed.

I feel perspective in my life.

I feel love.

I feel clouds lifting.

I feel like Sarah once again.