Disobeying a Parent

Yesterday I discovered there is a preschool .4 miles away from our house.  It is tucked away behind lots of trees and a few houses, so I have not noticed it during our two months here.

The first thing I did when I found out we were moving was start looking into preschools and schools for my children. I did my research and signed the kids up for a great quality, Christian preschool with a shining reputation on the day registration opened (and, incidentally, closed).  I did all of that long before we even found a place to live!

As luck would have it, we ended up finding a beautiful home to rent that we LOVE, but we are not exactly close to preschool. And that's okay. I don't mind the drive, especially if my kids are getting a quality experience while there. But I must admit, when I realized that a beautiful, new, spacious preschool was just .4 miles down the road from me, that it has a curriculum I like, experienced teachers, and warm and inviting staff, well...I was...a little annoyed!

So yesterday after I picked the kids up from preschool and as we were on our way home, I swung by that nearby preschool on a whim. I walked in with my kids hoping to get some information, and ended up being offered a tour by some lovely people. I was told they do not do any advertising, and that it is all word of mouth. No wonder I had never heard of it.

I did my best to keep the kids "in line" as we walked through the long hallways of the school and peered into bright, cheery, humongous classrooms with awesome student-teacher ratios. I told the kids more than once to stay near me, to stay right by me. I crossed my fingers that they would make a good impression on the director so she would want to let them in should I make the decision to move them.  But before I knew it, they were fussing at each other-- Ella Grace was on the floor acting like a cat and started crying because Julian had stepped on her tail...or something.  The director of the school was so nice and reassured me with a gentle smile "don't worry. I have two kids of my own. I know."

We continued our tour, and soon we came to the classroom that was directly across from the entryway to their chapel.  Before I knew it, Julian was running into those double doors. I excused myself for a moment from the gracious director so I could hightail after my son.  I had to laugh to myself as I began my brisk walk into the chapel because I knew that the facade of having it all together I was hoping to exude had already been broken down. The truth of the matter was that we looked like we had just stepped off the crazy-train. And the fact that that is how I feel most days had surely already risen to the surface.

I entered the chapel and saw Julian making a mad dash for the stage.  Flashbacks from the day before when he got to speak into a microphone for his first talk in Primary (kids' church) came to my mind, and I knew he wanted to speak into this shiny, new microphone he now spotted, as well. I called after my son "Julian! Come back." He kept running. "Julian, STOP." He did not even slow down. "Julian! One...two..." and before I knew it, he was climbing up onto the podium to reach that microphone, and before he knew it, the whole thing came toppling down on top of him.

Papers went flying as my son began crying. I ran to him to lift the podium up off of him, half of me praying his back wasn't broken, and the other half of me praying the podium wasn't broken. He was fine, the podium was fine, and the thought: "welp, looks like we are not going to be attending this preschool" went through my mind. The director, again, was so nice and seemed only to care if Julian was okay. We moved on, but inside I was exasperated. I wanted to throw my hands up in the air and then maybe cry a little bit.

I'd be lying if I said that instances like this one don't make me question and worry with thoughts and tears of "What am I doing wrong?" "What do other moms do that I am missing?" (or in yesterday's case: "Why didn't my son just stop and listen?") Julian knows the difference between right and wrong.  I do discipline consistently. He knows that good things happen when we make good choices, and bad things happen when we make bad ones. I am all. too. acquainted. with the fact that I make my fair share of mommy mistakes, but when I get hard on myself, I step back and think..."don't we all?" I'm trying to do what my mothering instincts tell me to do, alongside the things I've always been taught to do as a parent. We have family prayers, we have family nights, we teach him to say personal prayers. He gets plenty of outside time and time to just pretend and play. He gets plenty of cuddles and love, and he knows how special he is to us and to his family. He is a very sweet boy. He has a good heart and he appreciates so much when others see that in him, as most people would. He is so smart, and also so strong-willed.

As we drove home, he got a serious talkin' to, and when we got home, I put him in his room for some quiet time. I then wrote my little brother-in-law an email. He is serving a mission right now and each Monday we write emails to each other. I always try to send him lots of positive updates on the kids, and lots of encouragement to him in his work as a missionary. But yesterday, I told him what had happened at the preschool. He wrote back "I know J can be a handful. But just remember how Heavenly Father sees us and we act sometimes."

And that is so true. I thought more about it tonight and realized it's almost too perfect an analogy. We are all children of a loving Father in Heaven. He has sent us here and provided us with the tools and guidelines to follow that will help us to succeed and to be happy. But so often, even when we know the rules, we choose to disobey and rebel. We go down the wrong path willingly. Our Father in Heaven calls after us, His sons and daughters, with warnings and still sometimes we choose to ignore Him, and we continue down a path that will lead to no good. He never stops trying. He never stops loving. And yet still we go the wrong way. Ultimately, He always allows us to choose for ourselves, and sometimes the consequences of those choices come crashing down around us. And so we fall, and the magnitude of the bad choice(s) that we have made are all-of-a-sudden so clear. We are hurt and we need help. And we realize we can't get back up on our own, without someone to help us-- without Him.

Hopefully (and I think usually) we will wish we had never disobeyed in the first place. We realize how much easier it would have been had we just listened the first time, or had simply stuck to the "rules" which were set from the beginning. But hopefully, we will have learned from it all. And if we want to get back up and we want to change, we will feel His loving arms around us as He lifts us back up from off the ground and sets us again on the right path. (And side note, while this may not always be true in the case of us as mortal parents with our mortal children, the bad choices we make as His children are never a result of His parenting.)

He loves us so much. I know this. I know I have disappointed Him in my own life plenty, and yet He continues to give freely of His mercy, forgiveness, and love. He never gives up on us. He always wants to help encourage us to keep trying. He sees us for who we can become, despite our weaknesses, mistakes, and how much we still have yet to learn. Surely He's called after each of us throughout our lives, only to watch us make the wrong choices. I know it hurts His heart because He loves us so much. But He won't quit loving us, and he won't quit trying to teach and guide us back to Him.

And neither will I quit loving, teaching, and guiding my son.  I hope I will not spend another minute negatively obsessing over what I may be doing wrong. Instead I hope I will focus on improving as a mom, celebrating my son for who he is, reprimanding when it will surely be needed, of course, nurturing him with all the love and guidance of a tender parent, and praying fervently for His help and for my sweet son as a person...he most assuredly deserves all of those things.  I am blessed to be his mother. It is my sacred privilege to help him use that strong-will he has been blessed with as force for good in this world. I know Heavenly Father has entrusted His precious son and daughter to my care, and I will strive to make Him proud more often as He watches me watch over them.

Memory Lane: a letter to Stace before he returned from his mission

Yesterday I took on a BIG job...I had no idea how big of a job I was getting myself into.

You see, ever since Stace and I first started dating nearly 12 years ago, I have kept a "Stace and Kim box". In it I have saved all of the letters/ cards we have ever given each other*, ticket stubs to movies/ concerts, and plays, the ring boxes which held my promise, engagement, and wedding rings, the calendars I made him which contain our photos and inside jokes, newspaper clippings of Eagle Scout & marriage announcements, the ribbon that was wrapped around the gift he gave me when he proposed, Lucid Blue (his band) mementos, and even the lyrics to the song he wrote for his seminary graduation that his sister and I and a few others sang while he played it on the piano (we thought those lyrics were "gone forever"-- a LB reference;), and so, so, so much more.

*Except for the letters he sent me while on his mission-- those are in a separate album I kept while he was serving.*

I have moved this box five times over 12 years, and I've been wanting to try and make some organizational sense of it all.  I have been eyeing it lately and thinking to myself how I'd like to not have to lug this giant box around for yet another move.  So last night I started, and man!...I think I bit off more than I can chew in any decent amount of time...ha!

But it's been so fun to look through all of this! It has really made me so grateful for this life we have now.  I found the letter I wrote him in response to his thank you card he left on my doorstep, along with a really sweet and thoughtful box of gifts/ goodies, the day after he took me to his senior prom (our first date). I found his boutonniere from prom night! I found the ticket stubs to first movie we ever saw together ("Enough" with JLo...of all movies...ha!), and the list goes on and on!

I found one letter I wrote to him on March 28, 2006. I was studying abroad in London at the time, and Stace was set to wrap up his two year mission on May 4-- just over a month from then. I loved reading it and going back to that time in my life. It was before I started this blog and therefore before much of the content I have written about at the good ol' "Kim & Stace Place" had transpired.  This was  before I graduated; before we were married or even knew for sure we were going to get married; before we had a cute little yellow home to go to each day; before we taught a group of four-year-olds each Sunday about Jesus; before I had a job that I loved using my degree; long before we knew we would have fertility troubles; before we were subsequently blessed with three pregnancies and two babies who are better than I could have imagined; it was written before so much of what consumes my life now was ever thought of. I had a life before all of this, but that's easy to forget when you're go-go-go each day.

Reading this letter made me feel proud of the person I became while Stace was on his mission. I learned so much and honestly feel like I took whatever opportunities I could to grow and fulfill the dreams I had for myself. I traveled all over; I learned to hold conversations in another language; I taught children in that language in The Republic of Panama; I made friendships with people who made indelible impressions on my spirit; I studied my scriptures every day; I read various books written by general authorities; I went to the temple as often as I could; I attended every institute class I could possibly attend-- not only in Tallahassee, but also in London and in Panama. When President Hinckley asked members of the Church to read the Book of Mormon between August and Dec. 31st, I made a calendar and printed it out with a reading schedule, and I stuck to it. I kept a scripture journal and an everyday journal. I went out/ taught with the sister missionaries as often as I could. I was not perfect in any sense, but I really tried to grow. 

I've often said after Stace returned that I wouldn't have traded that time we had apart for anything. While I knew I wanted to be good enough for Stace when he got home, I didn't do it for him. I did it for me. I hungered and thirsted to GROW and become closer to my Father in Heaven. I needed Him and learned more so then than ever before how true that was.

When Stace left, my brother Chris gave me a blessing and said in it that that time would be my mission, too. It really was. Every once in a while, I have felt a little (and sometimes a lot) bummed because I never got to serve a full-time mission. I would have LOVED that experience. I know it. I absolutely would have LOVED it. And sometimes I just think "why didn't ya go?! Stace would have waited!" But he returned the month I turned 21, and the day he got home...we just knew it: we just knew we were going to get married. It was one of the best nights of my life...all of what was felt could not be put into words, but it was, in one word: perfect. After being SO worried that our "chemistry" would be gone when we were reunited in person, it was absolutely overwhelmingly perfect in how it was like no time had passed at all.  So I can't allow myself to get too sad about not serving full-time, and after all, the words in Chris' blessing were true: those two years were my mission.

On one of many adventures while Stace was on his mission. Here I am with my sweet friend from high school Andrea. She was awesome. I know she still is...even if we haven't seen each other in years!

It's all come down to this!

Well friends, I can't even believe these PhD years are coming to a close.  It seems so surreal.

It's so funny: five years ago, Gainesville was the. last. place. I wanted to go.  UF accepts four to five students every other year into its Finance PhD program, so on the one hand, we were thrilled at the fact that Stace had been accepted, but... 

Gainesville?!...Really? 

That word almost tasted bad coming out of my mouth. You see, I grew up in Seminole Country, and there "Gainesville" is pretty much a curse word. But moved here we did! And less than a month after doing so, the reasons why it has been an incredible blessing to be here in North Central Florida started knocking us over the head time and again. But I don't want to get into a whole shpeel about all of those reasons. That's not what this post is about. (Though I should make one of those!)  This is a post about the future... 

buh buh nuh nuh....

Stace has recently accepted a job offer from the Sam Walton College of Business at the University of Arkansas!  Wow! A real, grown-up, big-boy-britches job! Craazy! We are SO excited!!!

I shared this news via the social media interweb today, and thought I'd share a little more here on the ol' blogster-journal.

Stace submitted his applications for jobs back on Labor Day. I remember going to the beach husbandless that day with some of our bestest friends. As I sat there soaking in the rays with my kiddos on beautiful Butler Beach, Stace was at home submitting applications like a maniac. Soon afterwards he started receiving phone calls to schedule interviews. We started getting so excited as these calls came through each day! And as each call came and as each day passed, our prayers increased in fervency that we would just go wherever we were supposed to go.  I learned my lesson last time we were moving that I shouldn't bank on my own plans. I learned that if I just asked that we could go where He would have us go...where He knows it would be best for our family, then that is the absolute best thing I could possibly hope for...and that's all I wanted.

So then in October Stace went to a big conference in Chicago where all of the "1st round interviews" took place.  He had 23 interviews over the course of two and half days. IN.TENSE. While Stace was still at the conference, he was offered flyouts from two superb schools: we were over. the. moon. Later six more flyouts were scheduled.  (One of the schools-- good Ol' BYU-- offered to fly me out too...it was SO fun! Truly, one of the best experiences of my life.) So Stace was running himself ragged in airports and on the campuses of America for about a month and half.

One of the schools that offered to fly him out was the University of Arkansas.  Stace was quite excited about Arkansas from the get-go.  I could tell he was pretty darn pumped by the way he talked about the school and by how much he enjoyed his Chicago interview with them.

However, my first thought was "Arkansas? really?" (hahaha...it sounds awfully familiar, right?!) Now the reason I thought that this time is because I don't know anything about Arkansas! Do you!? I mean, I don't even know anyone who knows anything about Arkansas! (At least, I didn't think I did:)  But before I knew it, I started to hear little things here and there that started opening my mind and heart to the idea of AR, and even got me excited! Albeit shallow, the very first thing that got me excited was looking at homes online in the area. I found one that I absolutely L.O.V.E.D. So when I saw that house, I said "ok, Stace. We can move to Arkansas!" ha!!! ;D (Of course, they took it off the market a few days later, but still...it served its purpose for me. ;)

The next thing that got me excited about the idea of being a Razorback was that Stace got an email from a man who is not a member of our church congratulating him on the U of A interview. In the email he said he used to work at the Sam Walton College of Business with David Bednar.  Well, "David Bednar" is pretty much one of my very favorite people in the whole wide world.  I read his books and I love his talks. :) Before moving out west to become the president of BYU-Idaho (which he did until he was called to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles), he worked at the University of Arkansas. Stace's colleague told him in the email that Elder "Bednar moved away for a year, but then decided to move back to AR because he wanted to raise his family there." So! Now I knew of one person who had lived in Arkansas, and that one person just so happened to be one of my favorite people (no, I've never met him...it's my goal in life to meet him, Elder Holland, and President Eyring...but that's another story;), and he must have really, really liked it. That sounded promising! :)

Then we started to hear how beautiful the area is...about the Ozark Mountains...about the mild climate...about how nice the people are...about the low cost of living.  Every time we'd hear something, we got a little more excited about the possibility of Arkansas. (We have yet to hear a negative thing about the place! If you know something, don't tell me;)

Another interesting factoid is that out of his eight flyouts, Stace only sent me pictures while he was in one place: Fayetteville, Arkansas. And the pictures were so beautiful. I even posted those pictures to my Instagram with the caption "future home?" Could this place that I know nothing about really be our future home?  The trees sure looked beautiful in the fall...

When Stace got back from AR he told me "I was surprised by how much I loved it out there."

The waiting game was the worst. Not knowing if any offers would come through was in a word: awful. The days seemed to drag on, and in the midst of all the sleepless nights of worry, I searched for peace through scriptures and quotes from prophets and apostles. One of my favorite quotes that I found went along with a Youtube video narrated by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland. He stated: "God loves us. He is good, He is our Father, and He expects us to pray, and trust, and be believing, and not give up, and not panic, and not retreat, when something doesn't seem to be going just right." It gave me a lot of strength and I tried to hold onto those truths when fears would start to creep into my mind.  I just knew Heavenly Father was aware of our situation. I knew that even if it all didn't end up perfectly, it would all end up alright, and what's more...it would all end up better than we could have planned for on our own in the end.

I knew that Stace had done all that he could do. He has worked SO hard over the last five years: oftentimes, all day and all night. He set up a work station at home where he worked after he got home from work. The nature of his program is not one where he can "leave his work at work." When we'd go on the road (which has been quite often), I would always drive so that he could work. It has not been uncommon to see Stace at our pool or at a get-together with friends with his computer. He has done his best to be an amazing dad and husband by always being there for the kids and I, but he's also done his best to be an amazing student by simultaneously working his heart out. Over the last five years, he has juggled his computer, his data, his own research papers, his professors that he has worked for & their data & research, his children, and his wife.  And may I just say, he's an excellent juggler. I am so proud of him. One close friend here in Gainesville remarked to me once that she didn't know anyone who worked as hard as Stace. He's given it his absolute all. And I know that when we do that, God can and will step in and take care of the rest.

As I reflected on my worries and fears and then back to my faith, I kept coming back to the fact that I know that God is in the details of our lives. I see it in his sweet tender mercies that happen all too often. I know it. I know He is there in the details. So if He is in the details of our lives, which He is, then surely He has to be in the big, huge, life-changing occasions of our lives, also. This was not only life-changing for Stace and I, but also potentially for our children. And if I know nothing else, I know for certain He loves them too much to just leave this up to chance. It was all going to work out.

And then it happened!!! On a cloudy day in mid-December, Stace received his first job offer! (The same day he received this offer, he got a phone call from one school that we loved saying they really liked him and that he was the leader in their running, but that they wouldn't be able to extend their offer until February, which was too late for us.) Fast forward to a week later and it was the afternoon he had to make his final decision. I was a hot mess with a serious fever and the kids were running a muck; meanwhile Stace was negotiating back and forth on the phone between two schools. It was not a pretty sight (maybe we're lucky either of the schools still wanted him;) Finally, the hour of truth had come and we ended up accepting the offer from Arkansas!

It all seemed so surreal. (It still kind of does:) We told my siblings that weekend at the family Christmas with my dad. Then it was Christmas, Christmas, Christmas. Then it was New Years. Then it was "oh yeah! We should order Arkansas gear and take a picture wearing it to share the news!" I asked Stace "why don't we just wear cardinal//black and call it a day?" and he was all "no, that's not nearly as cool." (Ha! Proof that I'm not the only cheeseball in this marriage;D) I was excited and ready to share our news, so we ordered some shirts. When they finally came, I realized I'd ordered the wrong size for J-Man...

So then I ordered him another shirt.

Fast forward to last night.

Last night we met Stace's grandma, uncle, and mom at Chick-fil-a in Gainesville after his grandma's doctor appointment at Shands. When it was time for my mother-in-law to get back on the road, J was not having it that he was not going back to her house. So he twisted her arm into letting him go with her;), and she came back to our house so we could pack him a bag. On the way home I realized that if J went with her, we wouldn't be able to take our Arkansas pic-- the shirt was supposed to be in our mailbox that day, but we hadn't yet checked. So when we got back to the house I asked if she would mind if we ran and checked to see if his shirt had come. If it did, we asked if she would be so kind as to take our family picture inside. Sure enough, J's shirt had arrived so we all got ready lickety-split and snapped a couple quick pics.

 

 

Finally! I could share the news online with a little festive family pic (the way Stace requested;) with those who may not have yet known. It has been so fun to share our news with everyone. Thank you for your kind words of love, support and encouragement as we begin to embark on this next big chapter of our lives.

I continue to pray that this is the right place for us to begin this post-graduation journey, and I have to have faith and believe that it is. We will miss our family and friends in Florida and Georgia dearly, but we know that we are going where we are going for a reason, and we are excited to find out why.

Playing "this little piggy" with my girl...  

A Speculation on Princesses

Ella Grace is in a serious princess stage. She's been in it for a long time, to be honest, and I don't see her coming out of it any time soon. (But who knows?)  It all started with a 5 Minute Disney Princess Stories book one of her little friends gave her for her first birthday.  At the time, it probably weighed about as much as she did, so it fascinated me that that was the book she always chose to look through. She'd flip through the pages completely on her own. And then one day shortly after her interest piqued in the book, she became obsessed with the "Arel" pages. She'd always beg me to read her the Ariel stories.  Lots of little girls seem to gravitate to that half-girl, half-fish creation by Hans Christian Anderson and Disney, and mine is one of them.

I was thinking this morning about how interesting it is that she is so obsessed with princesses. I had  never bought her a Disney princess toy or paraphernalia of any sort. She had never seen a princess movie. The first princess encounter was with that book she received from a friend on her birthday. When we'd read stories, I never picked it out to read to her. She went to it. Every time. (I wouldn't pick it out today still...those stories are not "5 Minutes" long! haha!;)  Today, she has a variety of indoor toys to choose from: blocks, cars, play food, animals, etc. And while she enjoys them all, her favorite seems to be the princesses. (She always prefers to be outside though. She'd take the trampoline, the park, the scooter, or the tricycle over princesses any day.) So why?  What is it about princesses that enchants and captivates even young little girls? This was on my mind this morning.

There are studies that show that even newborn babies are drawn to more attractive faces, so maybe that's part of it. Also, princesses (or at least, the protagonist/ heroine sort) are always portrayed as kind, warm, nurturing, and loving.  Studies have also shown time and again that young children need that kind of warm and nurturing love to not only thrive, but to survive.

There are many other great qualities that can be found in the characters of the Disney princesses that I wouldn't mind one bit my daughter gleaning from: bravery, cleverness, intelligence, independent-thinking, and goodness of heart.

But with all of that aside, I thought, maybe...perhaps...the common and widespread love little girls have for princesses has a deeper underlying reason.

Now, I realize what I'm about to say may seem a bit far-fetched, and maybe even ludicrous to some of you, but just humor me here for a minute. 

Maybe the young's love for princesses has something to do with memory, and with their pure and still yet-undefiled confidence and sense of self/ knowledge of who they truly are. I believe that we all lived in heaven with God before we came to earth. All of us. We knew Him and loved Him there as our Father. There, the God of the universe individually nurtured us, taught us, and loved us immensely. We were His children and He was our Father. We knew this and it filled our souls with purpose and joy. He was (IS) the Almighty, and was inestimably greater than any king who would walk the earth. And yet we were His children. That meant something. It meant a lot. We knew our very natures were divine and that our worth was incalculable to Him, and His opinion was the only one that mattered.  He valued us and loved us beyond measure.  Being that our Father was an actual king, that made us, His children, royalty, as well. We are all daughters and sons of a King.

When we came to earth, a veil was placed over our minds, and our memories of life before we came here were washed away.  This is all part of His great Plan (which is truly great).  But it is commonly thought that little children, so pure and still so fresh from heaven, keep certain truths in their hearts from their pre-earth life.  So maybe something about this whole love of princesses has a deeper meaning than we realize. Maybe identifying with princesses has something to do with knowing of the royalty she has within her. Maybe it all resonates in that little heart of hers.

So for me personally, when I say that this little girl

is a princess, I am not saying it just because I think she is cute/ sweet/ funny/ ____ or because I am heavily biased. It is because she actually is a princess! (And I love to think about that!) But definitely the fact that she is so into princesses right now highlights that further in my mind's eye.

But who knows?  It was just a passing thought and an idea I had as a helped my children clean their rooms this morning. :)