Dreams

The question was posed to me recently- “Are you living your dreams?” I think it was one of those divinely appointed perspective-attaining moments, the kind where your focus seems to pan out like the lens of a camera, allowing you to refocus from the harry details of the day to day, and see the whole picture of your life. Allow me to explain.

I feel that I have had the blessing of living my dreams. But the reality of a dream is very different from it’s inception.  Dreams have come to consist of fairy tale properties, lacking the certainty of defeat, set-back, tragedy and redirection.  As Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf put it, in his General Conference address Your Happily Ever After,

“Sandwiched between their “once upon a time” and “happily ever after,” they [speaking of the heroines in the plot of a fairy tale] all had to experience great adversity…In stories, as in life, adversity teaches us things we cannot learn otherwise. Adversity helps to develop a depth of character that comes in no other way. Our loving Heavenly Father has set us in a world filled with challenges and trials so that we, through opposition, can learn wisdom, become stronger, and experience joy.”

So, when I say I have lived my dreams, I’m sure people think that my little life was picture perfect. It indeed was not.

I have had many many trials in my life. Of course mine are what I can handle, and others are given seemingly greater challenges.  My journey to become a nurse included major set-backs like multiple rejections, repeating classes, two degrees, countless hours of studying, scary tests and well, nursing school itself.  And once I got to the finish line, I discovered that there were things about my dream that weren’t so very dreamy. But in the end, I love being a nurse, and I know it is my professional calling. Even my writing this, I am hindered by my sweet little one year old who wants my full and undivided attention. He’s even helping me type.  Dreams are not without hardship.

I have also observed that dreams do not effortlessly float into your lap. There is no fairy godmother who sprinkles pixie dust and everything falls into place.  Attaining your dreams is just like most of life: hard work and waiting.  Dreams aren’t often served up on a platter, especially not mine. When they are, I think we tend to appreciate them less. There is something in the toiling, the waiting, the struggle that teaches us, matures us and readies us for the coming responsibility.  Too many people I know throw out their dreams when they prove too difficult, or not exactly what they intended. That’s why the preparation, delay, and waiting is so important.

One of my favorite quotes is attributed to Gordon B. Hinckley, but really he’s quoting Jenkin Lloyd Jones, the newspaper columnist. The quote reads

“Anyone who imagines that bliss is normal is going to waste a lot of time running around shouting that he’s been robbed. The fact is that most putts don’t drop. Most beef is tough. Most children grow up to be just ordinary people. Most successful marriages require a high degree of mutual toleration. Most jobs are more often dull than otherwise. . . .

Life is like an old-time rail journey—delays, sidetracks, smoke, dust, cinders, and jolts, interspersed only occasionally by beautiful vistas and thrilling bursts of speed. The trick is to thank the Lord for letting you have the ride.”

Now doesn’t that evoke some visions of grandeur?  But, only occasionally.  Dreams are achieved little by little. Living them is the hard part.

I’d like to one day write a book.  I realize that this is a good idea in theory. At one point in my collegiate career, a writing professor of mine told me, “You wouldn’t know how intelligent you are by how you write.”  Was that a veiled compliment? I only heard that I couldn’t write. I changed my major.  (Now we know that was foreordained). It was years before I grew the courage to reengage in writing, and after much encouragement from my parents and others. Writing is challenging and a seemingly never ending process, but it is something I enjoy, a kind of soul catharsis.  But, writing aforementioned book will likely take years, and I have yet to really even start. Yet it is a dream.

As I live my dreams, of motherhood, of a family, of a happy marriage, of buying a home, it all looks so different than I had assumed.  That was the problem, though, I assumed I knew how the Lord would bless me with my dreams. Silly me. He wants to give me everything I ever wanted, but it’s going to look different, take time, hurt a little or a lot, and certainly require sacrifice and exertion. 

Remember the refocusing? The panning out?  When I stop, reevaluate and assess my life, I am living the beauty of my dreams.  But, I have to let go of the dirty kitchen, the stress of looking for a home, the loneliness of living half a world away from my former life, and enjoy my endearing one year old, my doting husband and my simple existence.  I have to focus a lot less on the fuzzy blades of grass, and see the panorama.

So, am I living my dream? I am. That's the funny thing about dreams, though. They seem to be colored differently in reality than they are in your mind. I think The Lord paints them. So, learning to enjoy His art is the one challenge of my dreams.

Aren't my dreams pretty?

Thirty.

30…

So, my twenties are over. And the way people talk, you’d think my life was, too! But, I’m not threatened by thirty, not one bit. And here’s why:

My twenties were pretty great. I accomplished quite a bit in my life.  I served a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, and learned Hungarian to do it.  I studied at a great university, and had a ton of fun doing it.  I got two Bachelor’s degrees, became a nurse, and worked for a few amazing organizations in healthcare. I met and married my best friend, Ken Buley.  We traveled a little: I got to see Maui, Washington DC, Yellowstone and the Tetons, Disneyland and California Adventure, and San Francisco.  I became a mom (and gave birth, but becoming a mom was way cooler and less painful than giving birth), and now I have the best gift ever: my sweet little boy, Benjamin.  We even moved across the country to Texas!

I think the reason the number doesn’t bother me is that I don’t have many regrets. I have loved hard, and gotten my heartbroken. I have tried a good many things and failed at a lot of them, but I have tried! I have suffered, had hardships, been through trials of faith and come out better, stronger and more happy. I have made a good many mistakes, but I have learned so much about myself, and about life in the process that they feel almost like milestones rather than setbacks. I have been blessed to have amazing friends, and loyal family by my side, and I achieved all that I really wanted to achieve. I think that life has really been good to me.

And I have so much left to do: more children (not announcement, just a plan), our first house (coming Fall 2013), more making memories, more fun! I don’t feel old at all (until I talk to someone younger), I just feel right.

So, thirty isn’t so bad. I feel like I’ve earned it. Why stay 29 forever when you might miss out on the rest of what life’s next phase has to offer? There’s plenty more life left in me, and I am excited to take it on! Bring your best, Thirty! I can’t wait.

Berry Picking

I am unfortunately a week late in posting our Saturday adventure. Yesterday was very rainy, and we simply didn't adventure like we have been. But a week ago, I experienced some fun southern traditions- berry hunting and picking.

Now,  in Utah where I am from, we have lots of berries. And, my mother and grandmother are very gifted at making jams, etc. But, I have never had the experience of hunting for berries an picking them myself! Ken grew up with this berry tradition, but this was a whole new ball game for me!

The Berry picking crew- Christina and I are picking,

 Colby and Anya are using their weapons to try to ward off the treacherous invaders

Christina, Ken's cousin, and my new bestie, has been talking about berry picking since I met her (about 6 weeks ago). She claims that to find the Dewberries (I had honestly never heard of them until I moved here), you have to scout the blooms on the vine-like raspberry-esc plants, weeks before the fruit becomes ripe, so that you can find them again. Otherwise, these yummy little berries will be lost forever.

Dewberrys grow on the ground, like raspberries and are black looking, much like blackberries. The are sweet when ripe, and tart when they haven't yet matured. They are smaller than blackberries like raspberries, but taste more like a blackberry. They come with danger, though, because where these yummy berries grow, there also tend to lurk snakes...

We were undeterred, though, because like all adventures, you must be brave and courageous to find our treasure! We came equipped with poles, bats, golf clubs and other things to warn the potential vermin of our invading (and we didn't see a single snake). I did come out with lots of little thorns in my fingers and more than a dozen misquito bites. Alas! The things we do for yumminess.

The final result! Yummy!

Kemah Boardwalk

So, Ken and I decided that we are going to make the most of Houston! We can't be a good host/hostess for when you all visit if we don't know the lay of the land! Plus, we ought to have a little fun in our new home! So, we are going to dedicate Saturdays (as much a we can) to adventures and exploring Houston!

This week's installment is Kemah Boardwalk! Pronounced Kee-muh, this boardwalk is right on the mainland side of the bay. It took us about 20 minutes to drive there, and we just happened to go during the Crawfish Festival. It is a cute little midway or carnival style boardwalk, with an aquarium, shops, restaurants, a splash pad and rides/ games. Benjamin is too little to enjoy some of the fun, so we basically just explored, and another time we may indulge in some more of the activities.

Daddy and Benjamin on the splash pad

Catfish, Catfish and more catfish. This whole little place under the boardwalk was full of catfish. 

They even have little food dispensers to feed them.

Sailboats!

LOL. Had to take the pic.

Ever had crawfish? Me neither until yesterday. They were yummy! 

(who knows if we were eating them right?!?)

Benjamin and Daddy being dunces! So cute!

All in all, we had a blast! 

A little Texas for me...

We're here! We have arrived in our new home. It's been a very busy week. Let me hit the highlights...

- Benjamin learned to push himself up to standing
- Ken, my dad and two of my brothers: Nicholas and Jonathan drove the moving truck and our two cars from Salt Lake to Houston
- Benjamin and I flew down (by ourselves) to Houston
- Our family greeted us with open arms here
- Got introduced to one of the best parts of Houston (and Texas in general, as I understand)-THE FOOD!
- Ken randomly (or not so randomly) ran into the Stake Relief Society President
- The Elders visited
- Benjamin started to walk
- We bought a few new items to help us settle in- a TV, and a new dresser
- I got a pedicure, and an eyebrow wax
- I saw a darling school play- and Anya was great (Ken's cousin's daughter)

Needless to say, we are getting acclimated here. Ken and I keep saying to ourselves that it sort of feels like we are on vacation. But, we'll get used to it soon, I'm sure!

Blessings in disguise...

So, I have neglected my blogging world the last few months. Turns out, I’m not so good at this blogging game. But, due to recent events, I have felt like I should take it up again. Perhaps I will be better at it moving forward? Well, we’ll see.

The big news is already out: we are moving to Texas.  The long journey to find Ken a new job has ended in Houston.  And, it seems kind of surreal, that we finally have a destination, a place to be permanent. We have played the up-in-the-air game since we got married, and I have lamented over and over that I’d like to settle down, so I guess the Lord answered those prayers. Yet, He always seems to answer in a way that I never dreamed plausible.

It started when I was 16. My parents had moved my family to Mesa, Arizona five years previously. And through those tricky teenage years, I had struggled.  But, I had good friends, and I had just successfully completed a transition from Jr. high to a high school where most of the kids I knew didn’t go.  It was a growing year, but I had made great new friends, earned a starting spot on the varsity softball team (after a lot of hard work), had auditioned into one of the premier choirs (a huge accomplishment) and I even had a boyfriend.  But, this was the first time the Lord decided to challenge me- bigtime.

It wasn’t a shock that my parents decided to move. Our house had been on the market for two years. But, the Lord “blessed” our family that summer, and sent us back to Salt Lake City, Utah. And, I was devastated.

I remember unpacking the boxes in this new place, washing dishes in our new kitchen sink, and crying. My parents knew how hard this must be for me. Well, they thought that they knew, anyway. I had no friends, there wasn’t even a girl in my ward my age. When I started at East High, I thought I would die. Not only did I have no one to eat lunch with, there were two other new girls, both prettier than I was, so the new girl novelty wasn’t even there. And I felt so very alone.

The seminary theme that year was Proverbs 3:5-6. "Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not to thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths." It gave me a little peace, but it also paved the way for me.

Now, let’s remember a few things here:  I did end up making the best friends I have ever had in my life.  I did wind up in the perfect situation for me. I am eternally grateful to have gotten to spend so much time with my dear Grandma, who I lost about eight years after that move. I attended the right college, I learned so much in our new ward, and I can honestly say, almost 14 years later, that moving was a huge blessing in my life. But, at the time, I couldn’t possibly understand how a Heavenly Father who loved me could do such a thing.

But, this scene has played out in my life quite a few times since then. That feeling of “What was the Lord thinking?” has been almost a familiar feeling for me. I have learned that the Lord loves me enough to not let me get too comfortable. He wants to challenge me, teach me, help me grow, and maybe even use me for His own purposes sometimes. But, the Lord is in charge.

He did it when my best friend got married early in college. He did it when He wanted me to get a degree in Human Development and Family Studies BEFORE I went to nursing school. He did it when He wanted me to serve a mission- in HUNGARY. He did it when he needed me to speak Hungarian, when He didn’t want me to marry the person I thought I should marry (thank heavens He did it then). He did it when all my friends were married when I got home from my mission, when He wanted me rely on Him to find a husband, when I was in a tough ward situation, a tough job situation, and He guided me elsewhere. And, He’s doing it now.

I am struggling to make sense of His current call to change. He wants my little family and I in Houston. In Houston, where in spite of having family (thank heavens- they’ll save me!), I know hardly anyone at all. He wants to humble me, to teach me, to guide me.

I know this is the right place, I feel peace about our move. I feel like this is the answer to our prayers, and like this is an enormous blessing.  I feel like this  job is the one for Ken, like we are getting a special chance to be around family we never thought we would.  And, the part of me that knows all of this is very excited.

But, the other part of me can’t help but be sad. I am leaving my home, my family, my dear friends, an incredible ward where I have thrived, and all my comfort! My son will grow up away from my parents and brothers, away from my friends' kids, and away from the mountains.  Admittedly, I have tried really hard not to think too much about it, because when I do, I just cry.

The Lord knows what He is doing. I had a plan, and He is fulfilling my plan, He is answering my prayers, He is blessing me. But He’s doing it in His way. Again.

Probably the best example of the Lord's blessings in my life. My sweet family.

Proverbs 3:5-6

The hardest job, EVER.

As a nurse, there are these things called NANDA diagnoses. They are basically a nursing diagnosis, or a problem that nurses can identify and implement strategies to help with health, healing and the medical treatment.  In nursing school, they drill these silly NANDA diagnoses into your head, and you write care plan after care plan in order to train your brain to think like that: Nursing diagnosis: intervention, intervention, intervention, intervention.  Then, when you get out of school, you never see the format again. Probably because it is emblazoned onto your brain, so you mechanically think that way when you encounter a problem.

Recently, I have encountered my first true challenge as a mother: Sleep deprivation.  Now, you’d think that my son’s food allergy would have thrown me. Nope. I’m a nurse. I can handle that.  Or maybe my loss of intellectual stimulation (that may come a bit later).  But, we are now on our third week of Benjamin’s sleep strike. At first, I was sure that it was teething. And it might have been. But now, three weeks later, we are still having trouble and no teeth to show for it. And, I am going crazy.

Even when I finally get Benjamin down, I can’t sleep for fear that he’ll be up any second.  My brain won’t let me relax and get the sleep my body desperately needs.  I have succeeded in reorganizing half my apartment, moving my furniture around, even finding a new piece of furniture in my sleepless hours. But, after a while, I start to melt down.

I should be able to ask for help. My husband continually tries to encourage me to ask for help. But, I am stubbornly prideful, and I truly don’t want to inconvenience anyone. I had the baby, and I should be able to take care of him. I have to learn how. Even if it kills me.

I have tried a lot of things.  Tylenol for the teething, four infant sleep books, consulting with my husband, my mom, my friends, my doctor.  I thought it could be an ear infection for a bit. Yesterday I found out that my child is completely healthy (thank heaven), and that I am crazy.  Admittedly, I had mixed feelings when I left the pediatrician’s office.  I felt relieved that my nursing and mommy senses were right, and that I can spot a real ear infection.  But, I felt utterly defeated. I had expended every option, and even my doctor, whom I have know professionally for years and trust completely, suggested that it might be time to let my baby cry it out.  I have resisted this up until now, not wanting my baby to have to cry.  I’m afraid he will feel alone, he will think I don’t love him, that he won’t trust me.

My doctor also suggested that we start rice cereal, just to see if it might help him sleep through the night. So, I gave him some rice cereal. It was pretty entertaining- he had now idea what to do with it! It was really cute.  Then I gave him a bath. Then, we swaddled him, we read stories, sang a song, said prayers and put him to sleep about 7pm. My husband made me put earplugs in, put on white noise for me, and made me go to sleep.  He woke up at 10:30, 1:30, 4:30, 5:00, 5:30.  We were able to get him calm the first few times (I fed him at 1:30), but after the 4:30, we decided it was time to cry it out. The first time we lasted 15 minutes, the second 25 minutes, and I was also in tears.  I couldn’t take it any more, I went in and fed him, and we got up to play.

So, in the madness that is sleep deprivation, I have pulled out of my brain a NANDA nursing diagnosis.

Self care deficit related to sleep deprivation from routine motherhood. Intervention 1: shower, intervention 2: sleep, intervention 3: sleep, intervention 4: chocolate, intervention 5: sleep… you get the picture.

Once, a long time ago, a doctor told me that being a mother was way harder than being a doctor.  As a doctor, there are scientific, clear cut solutions to problems. You find the problem, you fix the problem.  If there are uncertainties, you consult with other doctors, you read literature, and you proceed with treatment.  And I liked that idea. I told lots of people about my wisdom- hah. Then I began to experience it.

As a mother, you live with the problem. You try what you know, seek new ideas, try them, and you continue day in, day out.  Then you try other things. It never ends.  You can’t go home, sleep on it, and come back with new, fresh innovative ideas.  You have a child who will never be cured, never be perfect or anything less than your responsibility.  And it’s exhausting.  Not just physically.  Emotionally, you want to the best for your child. Because they are not just a job, they are your everything.  You lose sleep, not because they are screaming, but because you care with everything that you are.  You want to fix it, you want to take away all the pain, all the hurt, all the hardship. You want your child’s life to be everything that yours wasn’t, and a million times better than you know how to make it.  

And the pay isn’t like a doctor’s.  You get paid in smiles, kisses, milestones, achievements, little hands in yours, funny imaginative games, sweet misspelled cards, shining faces looking into yours, hand drawn pictures, a tiny voice saying your name, and love. And joy, unspeakable joy. But, its way harder than being a doctor. It is the hardest job that anyone ever had, ever.