Finally

I wish I had something poetic to say on this, the last day of the elementary school year.
I don't.

1 of 7 deadly sins

I'd do whatever it takes to get a much envied Snuggie (short of actually buying one for myself), even if that means reading with a child.
Does anyone have a kid I can read with so that I can enter this drawing?
(Can you find and click on the three magic hyperlinks?)
If I win the Disney vacation and you win the Snuggie, I'll trade you.

A dream is a wish your heart makes

I hope that Cinderella wasn't right. I have strange dreams all the time.

I'm still at the dorms for a few weeks. I noticed yesterday that there were still several bikes left in the bike rack. I wondered what the housing director would do with all those bikes.
I dreamed last night that he clipped all the locks and gave the bikes away. I was so frustrated, since one of the bikes was mine, that I stormed into his office and yelled at him until I cried.
I just sent him an email (in real life) requesting that he save me the embarrassment and realize that one of those bikes is mine and not to give them away just yet.

And the night before (Saturday to Sunday), I had a dream that I was playing the organ for church services. My voice was hoarse from being so jubilant and silly on graduation night, so I couldn't sing while I played. I noticed that no one else was singing, either. I was so saddened that I started to cry. I couldn't be consoled. (If you know me, then this would be no surprise. Okay, maybe the crying would be a surprise, but the fact that I was so upset that no one was singing shouldn't surprise you. I love nothing more than the singing of the hymns.) Then some young man had the audacity to add to my grief by blaming me for playing poorly.
It was an awful dream.

I don't know why I've had two frustrating dreams the last couple nights. Maybe it's due to the fact that my family and I went to Outback Steakhouse on Saturday night. I used to have frustrating and stressful dreams all the time when I worked there. Serving in a busy restaurant is very stressful work. If you don't believe me, try playing Diner Dash.

Random post is now ending.

I'm a college graduate

It's official. I graduated from Dixie State College on Friday, May 1. It feels great to graduate.

(I'm no where near finished. I anticipate many more years of formal schooling and countless hours of independent study.)Will, my older brother, finished his degree requirements in December. I loved that we were a part of the same commencement.

A Mother's Hands

A dear sister shared the most beautiful tribute to motherhood today at church. I will do my best to record the words she spoke.
Sister Harker said,
A few weeks ago, my youngest daughter had her first baby. My emotions were very close to the surface. I repeated over and over that I couldn't believe my baby was having a baby.
After the baby's birth, the nurse was doing what she's supposed to do: scrubbing and cleaning and pricking. Ellie was doing what a newborn is supposed to do: crying at the top of her lungs. I decided to reach out and touch Ellie's hand in hopes of making her first few minutes of life more comforting. Ellie wrapped her little hand around one of my fingers.
Holding hands is one of the greatest ways we connect with one another.
As I thought about these hands, I reflected on the hands of my mother. She used her hands to hold me and comfort me as a baby. She held my hand as I experienced the new things in life. She used her hands to clap for me at my dance recitals even though I wasn't very good; she thought I was good. She clasped her hands in prayer in my behalf. She held my hand on my wedding day and let it go so that I could take the hand of the man who would be my eternal companion.
I don't know when it happened, but one day the roles reversed. I now held her hand. I held her hand as I guided her through the grocery store. I held her hand as I took her to get her hair done. I held her hand, aged and covered in brown spots and deep blue veins, as she passed from this life. I look at my own hands and see how they are beginning to resemble hers.
I find joy now as I watch my own daughters as they use their hands to comfort, guide, cheer, and pray for their own children.
I see a mother's hands, and I feel love.