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I did it to myself.  Really, I have no one to blame but me.  I should have kept my mouth shut and let them soldier on, but I worried about them and just wanted them to be happy.  I didn't see it coming, and I didn't anticipate it happening so quickly.  Yet it did, and I'm here now, saddened by the loss of my dream. Even though it's a recent occurrence, it really began back when I was thirteen years old.  I was set to become something great, but my mother didn't care about me or my happiness.  She decided to pull up roots and move from Texas to Michigan.  There was no recovery for me.  I tried.  I pulled up my bootstraps more times than I could count.  I had been climbing the mountain, and I could see the peak, but I stumbled and fell numerous times.  There was no one to pick me up and send me on my way again.  And to this day, I still lay there at the bottom of the mountain, wishing I could see the view from the top. I hoped that my children would climb the same

While I still feel very sad about being released as our ward seminary teacher last year, I can't deny that continuing to teach Glo seminary has been a huge blessing for our family.  In fact, I wonder exactly what John and I are going to do about scripture study once Glo moves away, and I'm no longer pushed into preparing a daily lesson. Most days, we wait for John to come home so that we kill two birds with one stone:  holding seminary for Glo, and having our family scripture study.  Plus, it's nice for both Glo and me to have an additional class member so that we aren't both doing all of the answering of questions! I'm reminded of the scripture from Doctrine and Covenants 87 that says, "...stand ye in holy places..."  More than one time, our dining room table, or our car, or our living room has been a holy place as we've studied the scriptures together. One of the most sacred experiences happened about a week ago, and I record it here for poster

Recently I read an editorial written by Beverly Beckham that ran in The Boston Globe back in 2006.  I don't believe I've ever read anything that better describes the feelings I have at this stage in my life.  Here it is, reprinted to remind myself that I'm not alone: I wasn’t wrong about their leaving. My husband kept telling me I was. That it wasn’t the end of the world when first one child, then another, and then the last packed their bags and left for college. But it was the end of something. “Can you pick me up, Mom?” “What’s for dinner?” “What do you think?” I was the sun and they were the planets. And there was life on those planets, whirling, nonstop plans and parties and friends coming and going, and ideas and dreams and the phone ringing and doors slamming. And I got to beam down on them. To watch. To glow. And then they were gone, one after the other. “They’ll be back,” my husband said.  And he was right. They came back. But he was wrong,