A message for our youth... stand steadfast and unmovable

This is our dreamer, our writer, our reader, and our oldest daughter.  Her smile can brighten a room.

Honey Jar

Here is what I give to all my friends who are getting married, not because I'm cheap, but because I believe in symbolism. These items are to remind the reciever of what it would take to stay happily married. I call it a “Honey Jar” because it is filled with love and love truly makes the world a little sweeter. Over the years, I have my own “Honey” jar to which I have added each of these items. Each is symbolic to me and I hope it will be to you as well. Here is what they symbolize:

Film – Both of you should take pictures of the world around you. When you compare photos, instead of criticizing the other for wasting a shot on something you wouldn’t have taken, thank them for opening your eyes to a new way of thinking. These pictures will serve as a reminder that even though you may both be looking at the same thing, you will each have a different perspective and that is what makes life more interesting.

Tape Measure – Because you will both have different perspectives, the tape measure is there to remind you that sometimes you will have to compromise and meet half way.

Paper Clips – To remind you to stick together and support each other in your decisions.

Scissors and Glue – If you are doing something that may be hurtful to your mate, “Cut” it out. Remember, what you take apart you may need to put back together again.

Hi-lighters – To remind you to bring out the best in one another.

Tea Bags – Instead of reacting harshly to something that may bother you, go make some tea. In the time that it takes to steep a cup of tea, you can gather your thoughts and maybe even have a chance to see the other side of the story. Tea also reminds you to take a moment to unwind at the end of each day.

Band-Aids – To remind you to heal wounds while they are fresh. Saying “I’m sorry” is perhaps one of the greatest healer of wounds. Even if you are not the one who caused the hurt, letting your loved one know you care can be a great healer too.

Rubber-bands – To remind you to stay flexible. Both outside and inside forces have a way of taking their toll on relationships. We need to remember to bend and flex from time to time. Relationships are made of give and take.

35 Cents - To remind you to be courteous to one another. If you’re going to be late, call. Don’t make your other half worry needlessly.

Last, but not least, plenty of Hugs and Kisses – Because you should start and end each and every day with a hug, a kiss, and plenty of love.

The Longest Year

It's been a year now since my friend Cece moved to Colorado with her husband Sheldon and their 3 children.  The move wasn't sudden, but it felt like it came out of now where.  I knew that they needed to make a better life for themselves.  There was so much holding them back here in California.  Sheldon's family, actually, the evil sister in-law is the one I think drove them away, but I know, ultimately, it was there decision to make.  When they left, it felt like a piece of my heart had been ripped out, leaving a gaping hole in its place.  Cece was my best friend.  She knew me.  She understood me.  I could just be myself with her.  There was no need for facades, no desire to create disillusions.  We could sit quietly in a room, with her massaging my feet (her stress relief - and mine), or we could talk for hours.  It was natural with us.  It came easy.  Whether I saw her every day or once a week, it was though seconds never passed.  She was my spiritual rock, I was her voice of reason.  Our families were close, her kids were my kids, my kids were hers. That's how it was with us, simple, but beautiful none the less.  And then, one day in April, it all changed.  

Cece had prepared me the best she could, but I didn't want to believe it would really happen.  They were going to move to Colorado to start a new life.  One without reminders of life here, including me it seems.  I don't know what is happening with them.  Sheldon calls Rich's cell from time to time, but other than that, there has been no contact.  I get the feeling Cece needs that right now.  I can't put my finger on the reason exactly.  I try to understand, sometimes, I think I actually do.  But that doesn't stop the hurt.  I think about Cece almost everyday.  There is always something that conjures memories of my dear friend.  I have to believe, for my hearts sake, that this is just a phase.  That one day, she'll come back into my life.  And when she does, I know that a piece of my heart will be given back to me.  She will always be a part of me.

I Know That My Redeemer Lives

A Tribute to Gordon B. Hinckley

January 27, 2008

Cece and Lara

My sister.  My soulmate.  My friend. 

Where did you go?  Why did you leave?  

I can't figure out if I did something wrong,

I wonder how I could be so naive? 

Why do I pretend to be so darn strong?

You were the one I shared my soul with, 

Someone I learned to lean on.

My head says you'll be back again,

This distance doesn't mean you're really gone.

Perhaps you just need time to figure your new world out,

But my heart aches quietly for the friendship we had,

I struggle to understand what this silence is about.

When will I stop feeling so sad?

I try to move on from this place where we were

Try new friends, but they don't seem to fit.

It's easier to keep my feelings locked inside.

But it is harder than I choose to admit.

Slowly, cautiously,  I move through the motions.

Knowing when we again meet, our paths will not part

For you are my sister.  My soulmate.  My friend.

And forever a piece of my heart.

Why Did You Leave

I used to feel your comfort, Lord, as I read my scriptures each day.
I felt your Spirit abide in me, when I knelt by my bedside to pray.
In desperate times, when I called on you, guidance and faith you would send.
Giving me the strength I needed, so this broken heart could mend.
I felt you in my every hour, my soul never left alone to grieve.
But, now that my life is going so well, “Tell me Father, why did you leave?”
At first, I didn’t notice your absence, for the blessings you sent were so grand.
I thought you’d be pleased not to hear from me, calling on you to always lend a hand.
How relieved you must have been, I thought, that my needs were no longer so great.
Giving you the time you needed to focus on those whose prayers could not wait.
Now, as I listen for that still small voice of your spirit dwelling within me.
It seems I have to listen even harder. “Tell me Father, why did you leave?”
These thoughts go in and out of my mind, much more often that they used to.
Every time I’m feeling confused inside, my thoughts drift back to you.
I had drifted from Church awhile, so sure you would remember my name.
I longed to have you back in my life, wondering if it would be the same.
But I worried I wasn’t worthy enough to be a part of your fold once more.
How could I ever feel the love that you blessed me with before?
Could you really love me enough to grant my heart a reprieve?
This road I walk is so lonely now, “Tell me Father, why did you leave?”
Then one day I dusted off my scriptures and opened them up to read.
Peace and understanding held me, as your words filled my every need.
This is what my life was missing . . . the habit of your daily word.
To think I should carry on alone, was nothing but absurd.
Once again, I fall upon my knees, and ask my Father in prayer.
If only He will know my voice, I shall follow Him anywhere.
Then, I felt His arms around me and my heart did truly cleave.
I heard Him whisper, “Oh, my child, tell me, why did you leave?”

The Daffodil Principle

For the past 10 years or so, the story of “The Daffodil Principle” begins to circulate at this time of year.

This is one of the most inspirational stories I’ve ever read. It deserves to be read and to be passed along!

There is a saying “The best time to plant a tree was 35 years ago. The second-best time is today.”
May we all plant our trees (or daffodils) today.
The Daffodil Principle!

Several times my daughter had telephoned to say, “Mother, you must come to see the daffodils before they are over. “I wanted to go, but it was a two-hour drive from Laguna to Lake Arrowhead “I will come next Tuesday”, I promised a little reluctantly on her third call.

Next Tuesday dawned cold and rainy. Still, I had promised, and reluctantly I drove there. When I finally walked into Carolyn’s house I was welcomed by the joyful sounds of happy children. I delightedly hugged and greeted my grandchildren.
“Forget the daffodils, Carolyn! The road is invisible in these clouds and fog, and there is nothing in the world except you and these children that I want to see badly enough to drive another inch!”

My daughter smiled calmly and said, “We drive in this all the time, Mother.” “Well, you won’t get me back on the road until it clears, and then I’m heading for home!” I assured her.
“But first we’re going to see the daffodils. It’s just a few blocks,” Carolyn said. “I’ll drive. I’m used to this.”
“Carolyn,” I said sternly, “Please turn around.” “It’s all right, Mother, I promise. You will never forgive yourself if you miss this experience.”

After about twenty minutes, we turned onto a small gravel road and I saw a small church. On the far side of the church, I saw a hand lettered sign with an arrow that read, “Daffodil Garden.” We got out of the car, each took a child’s hand, and I follow wed Carolyn down the path. Then, as we turned a corner, I looked up and gasped. Before me lay the most glorious sight.

It looked as though someone had taken a great vat of gold and poured it over the mountain peak and its surrounding slopes. The flowers were planted in majestic, swirling patterns, great ribbons and swaths of deep orange, creamy white, lemon yellow, salmon pink, and saffron and butter yellow. Each different-colored variety was planted in large groups so that it swirled and flowed like its own river with its own unique hue. There were five acres of flowers.

“Who did this?” I asked Carolyn. “Just one woman,” Carolyn answered. “She lives on the property. That’s her home.” Carolyn pointed to a well-kept A-frame house, small and modestly sitting in the midst of all that glory. We walked up to the house.
On the patio, we saw a poster. “Answers to the Questions I Know You Are Asking”, was the headline. The first answer was a simple one. “50,000 bulbs,” it read. The second answer was, “One at a time, by one woman. Two hands, two feet, and one brain.” The third answer was, “Began in 1958.”

For me, that moment was a life-changing experience. I thought of this woman whom I had never met, who, more than forty years before, had begun, one bulb at a time, to bring her vision of beauty and joy to an obscure mountaintop. Planting one bulb at a time, year after year, this unknown woman had forever changed the world in which she lived. One day at a time, she had created something of extraordinary magnificence, beauty, and inspiration. The principle her daffodil garden taught is one of the greatest principles of celebration.

That is, learning to move toward our goals and desires one step at a time–often just one baby-step at time–and learning to love the doing, learning to use the accumulation of time. When we multiply tiny pieces of time with small increments of daily effort, we too will find we can accomplish magnificent things. We can change the world .

“It makes me sad in a way,” I admitted to Carolyn. “What might I have accomplished if I had thought of a wonderful goal thirty-five or forty years ago and had worked away at it ‘one bulb at a time’ through all those years? Just think what I might have been able to achieve!”
My daughter summed up the message of the day in her usual direct way. “Start tomorrow”, she said.
She was right. It’s so pointless to think of the lost hours of yesterdays. The way to make learning a lesson of celebration instead of a cause for regret is to only ask, “How can I put this to use today?”
Use the Daffodil Principle.
Stop waiting…..

*Until your car or home is paid off…
*Until you get a new car or home…
*Until your kids leave the house…
*Until you go back to school…
*Until you finish school…
*Until you clean the house…
*Until you organize the garage…
*Until you clean off your desk…
*Until you lose 10 lbs…
*Until you gain 10 lbs…
*Until you get married…
*Until you have kids…
*Until the kids go to school…
*Until summer…
*Until spring…
*Until winter…
*Until fall…
* Until you die… 
There is no better time than right now to be happy. Happiness is a journey, not a destination. So work like you don’t need money. Love like you’ve never been hurt, and, Dance like no one’s watching.
Wishing you a beautiful, daffodil day!

~ author Jaroldeen Asplund Edwards ~

More on the Daffodil Principle, from a LDS Blogger

http://discipleship.ldsblogs.com/2008/06/05/the-daffodil-principle

The actual daffodil garden is located in the San Bernardino mountain range. Tucked back in this humble spot are five acres of daffodils in many colors. This entire area was planted by just one woman, Gene Bauer, but think of the many thousands of people her field has blessed.

That’s the first principle this field offers. We have to stop and look. Sometimes the most beautiful things in the world, the best blessings from the Savior are tucked away in every day things we don’t notice. Sometimes they’re out of the way in places that seem difficult to reach. No matter where we find them, when we look the goodness and mercy of the Savior will overwhelm our spiritual eyes with peace, beauty and goodness.Now, let’s think about those statements for a minute. I talked recently about the principle of feeding 5,000 people. Did it seem overwhelming to think about your self providing 5,000 acts of service during your life time? Yet, here is a woman who knew how anything is done. One thing at a time. She may have started with a vision of unending fields of flowers, but she also gave herself permission. For what?

To dream of that field.
To have faith that she could make it happen.
To allow herself the time that would be needed to see it through.

Many of us hold righteous desires within our hearts that we have not given ourselves permission to explore. They seem to big, to different, to much outside of our comfort zone, so we keep them firmly tucked away instead of realizing that those desires come from the spirit of Christ and His love that we carry inside of ourselves. It is our desire to become like Him that plants those seeds within our minds and hearts. But to many of us, we feel the field is just too big and our time and efforts are just too inadequate. The Savior would have us know that this is not so!

All He asks of us is exactly what Gene Bauer gave: 50,000 gifts of love given one at a time, by one woman with her own hands and feet, with more heart than the world’s logic, and time to let her efforts grow. She began and saw it through. So can we.

Now, this field of flowers is not all the same. Not only was it planted over the course of many years, but it was planted with many different colors and varieties. One disciple’s efforts will not be in the same year, or color as another’s, but it is our bulb and our season to plant it. With the Lord’s help and love, every bulb will be beautiful.

There is one more thing to note on the subject of the Daffodil Principle. In 1999 fire destroyed Ms. Bauer’s home, the surrounding lawns, flowers and trees. It did not, however, destroy her field of daffodils. Have there been wildfires sweeping through your own life lately? What have you done with your bulbs of service as you waited out the storm? Don’t draw them back into yourself. Even when your own life seems overwhelming, as a disciple of Christ your hands are still His. He needs them to help and bless others so that the way will be opened for Him to help you as well.

Don’t stop planting. You still have work to do. Then, know that even as everything else around you seems to be destroyed, your life and the fruits of your righteous labors are still under His protection. Even when your life is over, the flowers and seeds of the gospel that you plant everywhere you go will continue to bloom and inspire more of God’s children.

I Cannot Find My Way

Dear Amanda

 My sweet Amanda,

    It saddens me to hear that you hate to play the piano because I want so much to see you happy, smiling, and laughing ALL the time.  There is a side of me that would like to cave in to your request and allow you to quit; just like we let you quit karate and kung-fu when you were tired of those activities; or like when I let you go to the beach with Lauren instead of going to summer school, or going on vacation with daddy when you should be starting and enjoying your first few days of a new school and a new phase of your life.  I call these making concessions, but since you are still probably too young to understand the real meaning of this word, I’ll rephrase it and call these moments when I cave in to your desires… compromises.  You know… that fine line where we meet somewhere in the middle.  You give me something, and I give you something back.  

Our compromise for allowing you to stop going to Kung-fu was that you would take piano lessons – something you really wanted to do.  Each of these activities costs your dad and me money.  We paid for a uniform and lessons for karate and kung-fu, and when you grew tired of that and wanted to play the piano, we bought you a keyboard and found you a great teacher who really cares about you, but someone who still costs us over a hundred dollars every month.  It was worth sacrificing that money because it made you happy and we LOVE to see you smile.  In a few months, I’m sure you will be complaining about having to take your running lessons too.  But that’s your job as a kid.  Our job is to make you do things you may or may not like to open your mind up to new experiences and provide influences in your life that will make you a better person – your job is to either accept and be grateful or complain about all those things we try to give you.

In school, I learned about a phrase called “opportunity costs”.  This phrase really hit home to me because it means that for every opportunity or chance to do something we want, we have to give up something else we would have liked to do or have.  We all have things we would like to do and we all have things we have to do.  Sometimes we get frustrated with the things we HAVE to do because we know there is something else we could be doing; something that we really want to do. (Like having to go to work all day instead of lounging around the house doing nothing with you.)  Your dad and I have “opportunity costs” or things we sacrifice every day so that you can have a happy life.  We want you to have things that we didn’t have when we were your age.  We want you to have opportunities that we didn’t have.  We want only the best for you, but to have the best for you, we have to give up things that we want to give you that.  We both work all day so we can give you those things.  We both work and live with aches and pains of aging bodies but we pretend like everything is always fine, because we don’t want you to feel our pains too.  I would love to have my nails done every week, but that adds up fast and to pay for my nails, I might have to give up purchasing something that you want – like a new pair of shoes or a new pair of skinny jeans.  That’s why we understand that by asking you to practice the piano; we know you have to give up something else that is more interesting to you.  Yes… even and 11 year old has to deal with things like “opportunity costs”.

Anyway, I’ve been thinking about whether it is fair that we ask you to practice the piano for 20 minutes a day and go to a lesson once a week.  I mean… 20 minutes is a long time when you are 11 years old.  But let’s be honest about this, I ask you to practice for 20 minutes a day, but you usually only practice for about 5-10 minutes after I have asked you 3-4 times and since I only press the issue on days when I feel like I have the energy to fight with you over it, you really only practice a couple times a week – if even that.  Practicing 2 times a week for 5-10 minutes at the MOST comes out to 20 minutes in one week.

I know math isn’t your best subject and that “Piano”, as you said it, “doesn’t help with math”, but let’s try a little math here to see how much of your time I am really asking.  Let’s try it a couple ways:  The first thing we need to know is how much time is in a day:

1 week = 7 days

1 day = 24 hours 7 days x 24 hours = 168 hours

1 hour = 60 minutes 168 hours x 60 minutes = 10080

60 minutes x 24 hours = 1440 minutes in every day

168 hours x 60 minutes = 10,080 minutes in every week

The next calculation is as if you actually listened to me and practiced EVERY single day for 20 minutes. You have 1440 minutes in each day and we ask you to practice for 20 minutes:

1440 minutes/day – 20 min/day = 1420 remaining minute each day

This means you still have 1420 minutes to play, watch TV, eat, surf the internet, and clean up your room, shower, and sleep.

Just to be really fair, we should consider how much time we are really asking of you to practice each week.

20 min/day x 7 day’s = 140 min/week

10,080 minutes /week – 140 min/week = 9940 remaining min/week

Or

60 min/140 min = 2 hours and 20 minutes a week out of 168 hours that you have each week – which only leaves you with 165.8 hours per week to do whatever you want.  

What on earth are you going to do for the remaining 165.8 hours each week!!!

Look… I understand you not wanting to practice… I really do.  I remember how badly I wanted a piano when I was your age and when my parent’s bought me an organ, instead of a piano (which has a totally different sound!), I took the six lessons they paid for and then never played it again – at least not when they were home and could hear me.  I wanted them to know that it wasn’t what I wanted.  I wanted to hurt them for not knowing and getting me what I really wanted… a piano. The sad thing is, I think I did hurt them.  I know my parents didn’t have very much money and it was a very big sacrifice to buy me that organ.  But I was being selfish and only thought about me and how it affected me.  There were times though, when my heart felt sad and I knew I was all alone, I would go and sit at the organ.  I would slide my fingers over the keys and just wish I could play it.  That I hadn’t given up on something I wanted so badly once.  There is something about knowing how to play a musical instrument that kind of frees your soul when it is hurting.  I heard a saying once “when words fail, music speaks”.  Music has a way of helping you smile on the outside; it can warm you on a rainy day and comfort you when you feel alone.  Maybe that’s why I love to listen to music all the time… because I don’t have the ability to create my own.  I wish I could play the piano now and I am seriously thinking about taking lessons with you because I want that creative form of release in my life.  I want to be able to sit down at my piano and pour my heart into a melody.  I wish I had the ability to read music like you do.  It seems to come so easily to you.  When you want to play and open up your heart to the melody, you play so beautifully.  When I hear you practicing, even when you are mad at me for making you, I hear the sound of your future.  Not as someone who is playing music for everyone else to hear, but someone who has been given a gift to play for themselves.  You will be someone who will have the ability to make her own music when the world tries to steal your voice away.  

It breaks my heart to know that you aren’t going to talk to me for a while because you are mad.  But my job is to be your parent.  To see a little bit into your future and make life better for you if I can.  Playing the piano is a gift we give you now, that you don’t really get to unwrap until a time when you really need or want it.  Doing the work now, and practicing when you are asked without crying or complaining, will make your life better down the road.  You don’t see it now, just like Ms. Jill didn’t understand when her mom made her keep practicing, but one day you will.  It may be the money you make from teaching piano lessons to someone else or it could be the peace in your heart that you get from running your fingers across the keys when you need to let something go from inside you, like I try to do.  All I know is that I will regret letting you quit just like you would regret it one day many years from now.  I can’t do that to you.  You aren’t alone in this battle.  We have regrets for some of the things we made compromises on with Lauren and Breanna too.  But we have things that were important that we didn’t back down on either, like this with you.  If you ask your sisters, they will both tell you about things we made them finish doing because we new it would make their life better.  We wish we would have made Breanna keep playing softball, but we are glad that we didn’t let her quit high school when she wanted to.  We wish that we had made Lauren keep playing the piano and had giver her more responsibility around the house, but we compromised by giving up those things and not letting her quit water polo, even when she said her heart wasn’t in it any more.  When her grades fell, I didn’t let her give up because I knew how important it was for both, she and Breanna, to graduate with their class.

We haven’t been the best example to you.  We have been lazy about getting up and doing our job of going to church regularly and we are trying to be better.  We make you go with us because we know that each of us needs the opportunity to hear the still small voice within us and to have the light of Christ in our hearts.  This is another gift we want for you that you may not understand but is so similar to playing the piano.  Both gifts require work now and both gifts will bring you peace one day; both can give you hope.  So even though you just “hate, hate, hate” playing the piano, this is one of those opportunity costs in life that you must sacrifice.  You’re only 11 now and the maturity that comes with age hasn’t quite set in yet, so I don’t expect you to be happy.  But this is life… sometimes you just have to learn to smile, even when you don’t feel like smiling, and make the best out of each situation.  

You may not think so right now, but we really do love you.  We love you more than there are stars in the sky and for every one of those stars that shines; we say a silent prayer that one of your dreams will come true.

Forever and eternally yours,

Mom and Dad

We Believe that families can be together forever

Carry On

I sit in your empty room at night
Dreaming dreams that will never be.
The aroma of your toys and clothes
Bring you near to me.
We used to sing you lullabies
For our night time was never through
Until we sang that special song…
Oh sweet girl, I will always love you
I long for those precious nights again
Yes, I know I’ll have them back in time
Until then I have these memories of you
And of our fingers intertwined

Don’t cry mommy,
I am not gone
Carry on mommy,
Carry on, carry on

I can’t tell you how much I miss you
This has been so hard to understand
I miss your silly laughter
And having you take my hand
I wish I could blow bubbles on your belly
Or tickle your little feet
Everything is different now
It’s so hard to feel complete
I look for your everywhere
Like we’re are playing hide and go seek
I hope you’re happy up in heaven
I know you’re smiling down on me

Don’t cry brother,
I am not gone
Carry on brother,
Carry on, carry on

I used to plan my days around you
You were always there by my side
People seemed to swarm to you
Oh, how you filled my heart with pride
Now when I think of you, I smile
Though my heart still feels the pain
I go on because I know you would want me to
But living just isn’t the same
When I look at all the pictures of you
I think of how you touched our lives in so many ways
You visit me in my dreams at night
But I can never make you stay

Don’t cry daddy,
I am not gone
Carry on daddy,
Carry on, carry on

I sit here by Heavenly Father’s side
He tickles me like you
And Jesus sings my favorite song
Like mommy used to do
The angels take turns holding me
When I want to feel you near
And when you say your prayers at night
They always let me hear
So don’t cry family,
I am not gone
Carry on family
Carry on, Carry on

For the Motzkus Family

ka

A Father’s Kiss - In loving memory of Jessica Iris Motzkus

Her Father holds her in His loving arms,

And with a kiss He lets her go.

He sends his beloved daughter down,

To her family waiting below.

He knows that they will love her,

And take care of her fragile heart.

The temple bond He sealed them in,

Promises they will never truly part.

His Father’s intuition reminds Him

How faith can be shaken when in rough seas,

So He blows kisses from the heavens

To etch her smile forever in their memories.

A family kneels in prayer together.

Hearts breaking as they try to comprehend.

How the love and joy they shared with her,

Could come so abruptly to an end.

He tries His best to comfort them,

Somehow hoping to lighten their load.

The bonds of eternity begin to strengthen,

As she prepares their castle at the end of their road.

She sits, perfected, by His side,

As He watches the scene below.

Her father holds her in his loving arms,

And with a kiss he lets her go.

Kristen Andrews 6/16/04

Who Am I?

Who am I?  I am the one who has helped raise your daughter for nearly six years now.  I helped her pull out her first tooth and tuck it under her pillow for the tooth fairy.  I noticed when she squinted her eyes to watch TV, though she only sat two feet away from the screen.  I convinced her dad she needed glasses and told her she looked beautiful and smart with them when you asked her “why she picked that color frame”.  I bought her new clothes for her first day of school, dressed her and curled her hair.  Then on the first day of kindergarten, I stepped aside so she could be with you and sat alone while her father took pictures of the two of you together.  I developed those pictures and added them to a collage for her room.  I dialed your number when she wanted to say hi and comforted her as you told her in some polite way that again, you were too busy for her.  I helped fight for her when you took her away, denying her the father she had seen nearly everyday of her life.  I held her father in my arms as he fought to understand how you could act so senselessly.  Then I held your daughter’s hand as we entered the door for her first counseling appointment.  Trusting a stranger to help put the pieces of her heart back together.

Who am I?  I was the room mom in kindergarten and the class aid in 2^nd grade.  I am the one who enrolled her in Girl Scouts and learned the Girl Scouts Pledge along with my daughters. I am the one who’s involved in her activities, as a Cookie Chair for Girl Scouts or pep squad for baseball.  I am the one who learned to stop introducing your daughter as my “ step-daughter”, because I could see she just wanted to be one of us.   I noticed, without blinking an eye, when she introduced me as her mom to her teachers and friends, even though my heart must have skipped a million beats.  I was the one who said it was okay to invite you to mother/daughter events with Girl Scouts and class parties and the one who prayed you wouldn’t disappoint her again.  I am the one who left work early countless times because she wasn’t feeling well.  I rushed to the school with a clean change of clothes when she didn’t make it to the bathroom on time.  I stared her classmates in the eyes and lied when they asked why she was leaving.  When I said she had a Dr.’s appointment, her teacher nodded in confirmation and winked to say she understood.  Afterwards, we went for ice cream, because we all need to learn to celebrate even our bad days.  I have woken up at two in the morning to rub her back while she vomited and help changed the sheets on her bed.  I helped introduce her to God.  Not through damnation, but through loving scriptures, family home evenings, and family prayer.  I’ve stayed up nights till midnight to finish typing a book report and have woken up at six a.m. to get your daughter to school for play rehearsals by seven.  I clapped even louder the night of her performance when I noticed you didn’t make it.  With tears in my eyes, I acknowledged her three months of hard work and commitment, her bravery and courage for getting on stage, and with pride I clapped as she re-entered for a final bow.  Not just for her performance, but because I noticed her eyes searching the room for her mother, hoping she would see your face smiling back at her.  I clapped for you, because you would have been so proud of your little girl.  As I clapped I realized again that what I had to offer her would never be enough to fill the shoes she needed you so desperately to walk in.  But I offered all the encouragement I could, because I am still her mother too. “ I may not be the one she chose to come to, as she waited in heaven above.  But I am the one that our Heavenly Father chose to help show her a mother’s love.  I may not be the one who gave her her first breath of life.  Maybe she’ll only remember me as her father’s second wife.  But something tells me all I’ve done, will be rewarded when this life is through.  Not because I played my part, but because I’ve accepted the part of two.”

Who am I?  I am the one who skipped lunch so your daughter could by something at a bake sale.  I go without new shoes so our children can have them.  I have worked all day, come home to make dinner, and then rushed out to attend Back-to-School night so our daughters would have a note from their parent in place of the picture they left behind.  So they can smile inside when their teacher says he met their mom last night and she was nice.  To see their excitement when they find their name on the class phone list because I took the time to fill it out.  Because I enjoy watching their faces as they explain the artwork we’ve brought home from Open House after watching them scurry around their classroom to show us all of their achievements.  It is with pride that I sit in on their student led conferences with their teachers.  I have stood on the sidelines of the football field as she cheered and of a baseball field as she made contact with the ball for the first time, looking back at her coach for a clue of what to do next.  I cheered, I clapped, and I helped rally other parents.  I would leave work early because I knew I would be the only one of her parents to be there to share her victory or comfort her defeat.  I was there because I wanted to be there, not because my family would have looked down on me if I didn’t go.  I have never walked away from being a mother, because I know our children are watching, both yours and mine.  I know that I must be the one that they find their examples from, that every word I say can either make or break their day.  We have girl’s night out on Friday’s  so we can spend time together, bonding.  They know they can tell me things I won’t repeat, they can ask questions I won’t laugh at.  They know I will speak the truth, plain and clear, in words they’ll understand.

Who am I?  I am the one who drives your daughter to your home because you want to see her for a couple days.  The one who watches to make sure she gets in okay, because I know you wont come out to say, “hey, thanks for going out of your way to bring her over.”  I am the mother who took her to the Dr.’s office when she was sick or when she came home from your house covered in flee bites.  I know her Pediatrician, her dentist, her teachers, her Girl Scout leaders, and the school office ladies by first and last name, because I have met them again and again.   I am the one who has sat next to you at the events you attended so your daughter could see us get along.  I have counseled your daughter when she was upset about seeing you fight with your boyfriend.  I tried to explain that adults, like sisters, have a hard time being with each other every day and night.  That sometimes, even though they say they need a break from each other for awhile, they still love each other.  That it’s easier to walk away from someone you aren’t committed to, but that one day, when you were married, that would hopefully change.  I am the one that you despise, though I have done nothing but love your daughter and treat her as my own.  I pity the need you have to constantly remind your daughter that I am her stepmother and that her sisters are not of her own flesh and blood.  It is not blood that makes you family, it is love.  How sad that you did not learn this in your own family.  I don’t know what it is like to have a mother who is controlling, who reminds you of your poor choices each day, who is more concerned about the family name than the family unit itself.  I don’t know about these ways in which you were raised, but seeing your true colors makes it easier to understand why you feel so threatened by me.  You say I have no right to get involved, that this is between you and your ex-husband.  How wrong you are.  I don’t know when it happened, but sometime between the day I met her father and this moment I am living now, she became a part of my heart as well.  I can not just stand by and allow someone call my daughter a liar or give her a guilt trip until she breaks into tears.  I made vows to the Lord above that I would protect his children and mine, and she is also my child. 

Who am I?   I am the one who has swallowed many guile words because I know that voicing them would not hurt you, but her.  Because I know that her pain is not worth my vengeance.  I am the name you removed from the emergency contact card at school so you could place your name in the spot as mother.  As though mothers were made up of women who have given birth.  How naïve you are to believe it could be so simple.  To believe you can wake up on any given day and say, “Today, I’m ready to be a mother.”  Just as I can not fill the shoes of the mother your daughter used to ask for, you will never be able to walk the path that I have walked, with your daughter by my side.  You can not take her hand in yours and feel her take your hand back like I have.  That is an experience earned by trust and loyalty and time.  Just because you have chosen to take an active role in her life again, because you are finally ready to put your daughter up higher on your list of priorities, because you feel you’re ready to put behind the things that make you happy – Is it fair to ask her to do the same?  Do you even care about how she feels?  A real mother would care.  You can call yourself her mother each day and tell her I am nothing to either of you.  But she and I know better.  To her, I have always been there.  In the good times and the bad.  Though life has not always been easy for us, we’ve managed to become friends, she and I.  I have gone nose to nose with a child who constantly asks why we have rules when her mother doesn’t have any.  But that’s okay.  My reward from not backing down comes in the package of wild laughter as she tells me how she waited outside until 8:00 at night, just to see if you would call her in to do homework.  She tells me how you take her shopping to buy her things she wants, but that she’s grateful because I buy her the things she needs, I take care of her when she’s sick, and read stories with them. 

Who am I?  I am the one who has never walked away from her or my family because that is the easier route or because my needs came first.  I am the one who gets on my knees each night and prays for her safety and who asks the Lord to watch over her and comfort her when her mind is confused and her heart is aching.  I am not just the woman who married her father.  I’m the one she introduces to her friends as “mom”.