God is Good to the Johnsons

Reading . . . Writing Book . . . . . . Pen . . . . Paper. I curl up with a paperback And read quietly for hours Laboriously I scratch Ideas My brow spouts cold sweat showers I yawn and set my book down The story puts me fast asleep I struggle over the sentence I've been wording for a week I crease my brow in thinking The story grasps my full attention My hand cramps as I speed write My own adventure weaves suspension I fly in freedom winging As the story sweeps blue skies My fingers drag enduring Try to keep the writing alive It's easy just to read away And enjoy a sea of words But when it's  my  pen scratching I create my own bright world I can't decide the ending In a book or play I like But I make my own adventures  When  I  find the time to write.

L U L L A B I E S Little Boy, At night when we rock, and rock, and rock I sing you songs. I sing of webs like spider webs (made of silver light and shadow). I sing of the sandman bringing you a lollipop moon (although I still don't know what that is). I sing of the doggy in the window and the popcorn on the tree. But Little Boy, The songs I sing most are the ones about the man who built his house on the rock About kindness beginning with you and Jesus telling us to love everyone. And Little Boy, if you don't remember, if you don't believe any of the other songs I sing Remember those songs Believe the songs I sing most.

I was intrigued and touched last week by a BYU Ted Talk I listened to while folding my ominously large pile of laundry. Part of the talk is given by Moe Egan, who shares his incredible story about his past life as a convict and addict. He and his mentor, Tim Stay, share the story of his recovery and change through the help of true friends and his peers and mentors at "The Other Side Academy."  As I listened to Moe's story, my heart particularly cried out to him as he talked about his childhood. His moral education (among other things!) was neglected by his family and other adults who should have been looking out for him. This awful beginning spiraled him into a dark pattern of immoral and illegal behavior. BUT MOE WANTED TO CHANGE. He knew what he was doing wasn't right, but he hadn't had a pattern or example or friend group strong enough to aid him in that transformation. It wasn't until he landed in prison (not the first time he was there, I mi...

The sun stays with me all day now. His present energy seems so bright compared to the beleaguered guise he wears in winter. Instead of rising reluctantly, only to quickly retreat to his nighttime den beyond the mountains-- He bursts triumphant at 6am each morn, and doesn't retire til 10pm A day's heat and light and life brought, A day's sticky sweat and garden growth and summer swim's retreat accomplished, A day's rollercoaster rides and farmer grunt work and road construction and picnic play overseen. And while I said I'd have no favorites, because of you, oh precious star, Summer is the one.

Yesterday morning, around 9am, I went to the cupboard to pull out the formula--Charlie was nagging me about his hungry belly, you see. To my surprise a sticky note was plastered to the side of the formula box. It read: "I'll be your Gilbert Blythe if you'll be my Ann e  Shirley! Love, Kevin" My heart about exploded with the giddiness of a schoolgirl while nearly melting from the delicious sap of that darling little note. Especially the part where he underlined the "e." Dear Kevin has lovingly endured 9+ hours of watching Anne of Green Gables (and the sequels) over the past week. I haven't seen them for over 13 years, and when we had to opportunity to borrow them, I couldn't resist. The first film is definitely the best (I'll save my critiques of them for another post) and I giggled and laughed and sighed as I watched and reminisced and quoted... "Diana Barry is my bosom friend!... Would you call me Cordelia?... The Lady of Sherlot!.....

Two weeks ago I was checking out at Target. It was a large purchase, and it wasn't until the last few items were being scanned that I noticed that I had left my wallet in the diaper bag... in the car... flustered, I explained my predicament to the cashier who gave me a warm smile and told me not to worry, just to retrieve it. So I gathered Charlie in my arms, hurried across the long expanse of the parking lot (I'm one of those weird people that parks in the boonies) and hurried back. I thanked the cashier and gave an apologetic look at the woman behind me in line. She shrugged nonchalantly and said with a sincere smile, "we've all done that at least once." On my way out of the store, as I tried to carry my frustrated baby in one arm and push the cart with the other, a different lady with two elementary school aged daughters ambled up next to me and asked, "can we help you to your car?" To which I gladly accepted, and they did. Last Saturday, I was chatt...

Yesterday, I hiked. I strapped baby boy to my chest and met aunts, grandma, uncle Brett, and cousin kidlets at the trailhead And away we went! Up, up, up, and down, down, down, to the waterfall. Anne carried my backpack. I had a baby in tow and didn't know what all he'd need, so I over prepared. She helped save me from being too much of a pack mule And I helped save the worries of those that used the outhouse because in my over-preparation I had brought hand sanitizer. There were steep parts with slippery needles from pines There were trip wires made of tree roots And slick rocks worn from thousands of hikers' boots So 9-year-old Ben stopped to be my anchor I held his shoulder while I clambered down I hiked this trail before when I was 13 with my Young Women leaders and friends And it kicked my backside when I had to climb the steep parts But this time, I did it with baby boy strapped to my chest I surged ahead with stamina and a smile. It ...