Category: Life Success Principles

Practicing Calm — What the Boys Taught Me – A Series: Part 4

There’s an idea I keep coming back to: no problem gets solved by the same thinking that created it. We have to see things with fresh eyes. That’s especially true when it comes to staying calm because staying calm doesn’t happen by accident. It happens when we’ve thought ahead about what we’ll do the next time we feel frustrated, pushed, disrespected, or worn thin.

Many of us, without a plan, default to raised voices. We want calmer homes, but when the moment comes, we go straight to frustration and yelling because that’s the response we’re used to. Staying calm comes from knowing, ahead of time, how to respond when things are out of control or don’t meet our expectations.

One Afternoon

I have a friend whose home I’ve spent a lot of time in over the years. I have never heard anyone yell. This family communicates. They don’t lose control.

One afternoon I saw what that looks like when it’s been taught to children too. Her two sons, nine and five, were playing a board game in the living room, close enough that I could hear every word. It was going well for a while, but the younger one couldn’t quite follow all the rules, and it was hard for him to win. He began to fuss and complain quietly.

His older brother patiently explained a few things, but he was only nine himself, and he wanted to win too. Finally, he said, “If you keep fussing and having a bad attitude, I can’t keep playing with you.” The fussing continued, quietly. A couple of minutes later, the older brother repeated himself, then calmly packed up the game. The younger boy’s face fell, but there was no yelling, no tears. About five minutes later, they were playing something else and having a good time.

I know how that sounds. Some of you are shaking your heads, thinking, “Those kids aren’t real, mine would never do that.” I was surprised myself. But here’s the thing: I can guess how those parents handle disagreements with each other, and with their children, just from observing the two boys. They have a plan. They have a system. And their children have absorbed it simply by living inside it.

There’s power in staying calm and communicating clearly. Children learn from what they see, not from what we tell them. You cannot teach one thing and live another. If there’s conflict in your home, if you find yourself losing control, and your children doing the same, the answer starts with mastering yourself first.

Tuesday Morning

Such an easy thing to say, I know. Staying calm isn’t only about how we respond in the moment, as those two boys did. It’s also about the expectations we carry into a moment before it even starts. I experienced that lesson again this week.

I used to be a rager. It took having my eyes opened, realizing I needed to control myself, not blaming others, and having a plan to move forward. It has taken several decades of practicing to get where I am now, and I still have work to do.

At 7:30 on Tuesday morning this week, I was on my knees asking forgiveness for being abrupt with my mom. I felt embarrassed because I often ask forgiveness for the same thing. Calm has not been an easy lesson for me. But I have made progress. I am better. I am kinder. And I keep trying when I goof up.

Mom sometimes takes her Depends off at night, which leaves a mess on her nightgown and sheets. Tuesday morning it happened again, and I lost my patience getting her up.

After my prayer, some thoughts came to me. I was reminded that I wet the bed until I was twelve, and that the scoldings I got for it never helped; they just made me feel bad. I also thought of my daughter Jodie, who has a special-needs daughter in diapers and changes her sheets many times a week. Jodie doesn’t expect anything different; it is what it is, and she handles it. I realized my expectation was the problem. I kept expecting Mom to stop this behavior if I scolded her, when the truth is, her dementia isn’t going away, and this may continue for as long as she’s here. Another thought I had was simple: change the expectation from “this has to stop” to “some mornings there will be a mess.” Therapists sometimes call this reframing, catching the thought before it becomes the reaction. It works for Jodie. It will work for me.

Wow. One more step in a lifelong process of learning to be calm. My embarrassment evaporated into gratitude. I look forward to putting this new expectation into practice.

I shared the boys’ story because it’s a beautiful example of what can happen when we work on calm, so that our family and others can see the work we’re doing, even when we aren’t perfect. So don’t be discouraged if you or your children aren’t there yet. These boys have been practicing the example their parents gave. We need to continue practicing too. Perfection isn’t what we’re aiming for; progress is.

For me, that plan now sounds like this: if I feel my patience slipping with Mom, I stop and ask myself what story I’m telling myself in that moment.

That’s the plan, the system, the thing I can lean on, so I can help everyone around me build one too.

Practicing Calm — It’s Better to Laugh Than to Cry – A Series: Part 3

Story 1

This story from my family goes back decades, to when my youngest daughter, Kate, was still a teenager. The two of us were hurrying out to the car for a church event. I felt rushed. We were running late, and I hate being late. With seven children, you’d think I would have become more accepting of the occasional late start, but I hadn’t, and that day it made me feel anxious.

It had been a warm summer day, no rain in sight, the weather perfect. But as I stepped off the curb to get into the car, I found myself ankle-deep in water. I felt my hackles rising. Who filled the gutter with water? Asking who filled a gutter with water is not exactly a reasonable question. That’s how it goes when we let anger run over: irrational.

As we drove down the tree-lined street, I sputtered about how ticked off I felt, how inconsiderate the whole situation was, how being late seemed like a sign of disrespect, and on and on.

About five blocks from home, I pictured myself stepping off the curb into ankle-deep water. I saw my shocked expression, and myself looking down at the foot I was holding up while it dripped. The mental picture was so funny I started laughing, and the longer I laughed, the harder I laughed. I looked at my daughter, who had been very quiet until then (it might have been dangerous to make a sound), and she started laughing too. We laughed for a good two blocks.

Then my daughter turned to me and said, “Mom, it was funny when it happened.” Her comment brought me up short. She was right. It was one of those unexpected, funny situations that happen in life, and she was pointing out, kindly, that I could have saved us both a lot of stress if I’d just laughed in the first place. That’s often the best way to manage trouble and find happiness in the middle of it.

Story 2

In another season, we took a family vacation with our oldest daughter, Jodie, and her family. Kate was still living at home. We’d prepared for over six months. It was a big deal.

However, one by one, everyone got sick. There was crying, vomiting, and exhaustion. We camped one night and then moved on. But it became hard to travel with the children, and so Jodie decided to head home early. She was ill the day they left, with two sick children in the backseat, and a nursing baby to feed. They were pulling a trailer, and on the way home the truck broke down. They were stranded overnight, and some family members had to travel to help them get home.

When I saw the pictures they took on that drive home, it was beautiful. There weren’t any complaining faces, despite the ruined trip, the months of planning, the lost time. Just smiles. They laughed instead of complaining about one of those unexpected situations that happen in life. Their children were small and not feeling well, but if they remember this trip at all, they’ll remember it as a good one, with adults who held it together by finding the humor in a hard situation.

Kate is now in her 30s, living in Washington with three kids of her own, ages 13, 10, and 7. She was here visiting in July. I found myself watching her the same way I once watched Jodie. I shared one of Jodie’s experiences in last week’s article. Kate was handling her three children with that same steady patience I saw in Jodie all those years ago, the kind you can’t fake and can’t rush. This is something I’m still practicing: it’s better to laugh than to cry or yell, almost every time.

It hasn’t gotten easier, but I do it more often.

Practicing Calm — The Honey Bucket – A Series: Part 1

I used to think staying calm with my children was a skill I’d eventually master and move past, something I’d graduate from once they were grown. I know better now. Right now, I’m caring for my 96-year-old mother, who has dementia, and I’m finding myself back in the same classroom I thought I’d left decades ago.

That’s really what this series of five articles is about. Not a formula, not a finished skill, but a practice, one that shows up again and again across a lifetime, in different seasons, with different people, in ways we don’t always see coming.

The stories in this series are from long ago, mostly from the years when my children were small, or my grandchildren were underfoot. But I keep coming back to them, because the lessons in them are just as true today as they were then. I hope these stories feel less like advice from someone who’s arrived, and more like company from someone still on the road with you.

I’m in a new season of practicing calm. My mom is 96 and living with dementia, and some days caring for her tests every ounce of patience I thought I’d built up over the years. I lose it occasionally. I hear my voice get sharp, or I feel that same old flash of frustration rise, and I have to stop and remind myself of something I learned a long time ago, back when my own children were small.

Staying calm isn’t a skill you master once and keep forever. It’s a practice. And you never know when life will hand you a new season that puts you right back in the classroom. I was reminded of that recently when I came across an old story from years ago, back when my grandchildren were small, and I was watching them for the day. It’s a good reminder that the practice never really ends, and that’s okay. Enjoy. : )

I was sitting at the table watching Mary today. She had a small bowl of popcorn and was happily eating. Every bite or so, she would look up and give me a coy little smile. I would smile back and eat a piece of my popcorn. After several bites and coy smiles, Mary got up, toddled over to me, and lifted her face for a kiss. I gave her one, and she went back to the popcorn, took another bite, gave me that same shy smile, and I returned it. Then she got up again, came over to me, and lifted her face for another kiss. We repeated this a few times.

20 Minutes Earlier

What made this peaceful, joyous moment so remarkable was what had happened just 20 minutes earlier.

In the kitchen was a large bucket of thick honey, straight from my own bees, with no water in it, so it was very sticky. I noticed that bucket the day before and thought, “Hmm, that lid isn’t on very tight.” Then, as busy people do, I went on my way and didn’t do anything about it.

Today my grandchildren came to spend the whole day. I was prepared with crafts and fun, and all was going to be great. But I was running behind, which meant we were late eating breakfast and getting dressed. It was after 11:00 when I was tying the last shoelace. Just then, Mary came into the living room dripping honey from head to foot.

I let out a shriek, grabbed her, and ran for the tub, clothes and all. I fussed the whole way. “Mary, what did you do? Why were you in the kitchen? Look at this mess!” All the things you’d expect me to say.

As I stripped her clothes off and washed away the very thick honey, I made myself think about what was happening. I had a real mess in the kitchen, I was sure. This was my last set of clothes for Mary, and she hadn’t even been dressed for ten minutes. I was angry, and honestly, it was my own fault for not securing that lid.

I forced myself to calm down and really look at her. She was perfectly happy being doused in warm water, and any sense of trouble had already evaporated into the joy of the bath. She’s just a baby, really, only 16 months old. She’s interested in everything, and I mean everything. I hadn’t secured the perimeter, so to speak, and now I had a mess to clean up.

More than that, I realized that damaging this precious relationship over her childish need to explore, and my own oversight, would be a terrible trade. So, I stopped fussing. I washed her off, kissed her as I dried her, and steeled myself to go face the kitchen. It really was a mess.

A couple of days ago, I was talking with a mom about staying calm. She told me she’d decided to practice it, and that it was making a real difference. She said the more she practiced, the better she got at it. Amen to that.

Staying calm, not losing your temper, being present, seeing a child as a person with needs instead of a problem to solve – these are all practiced skills. The more we practice, the better we get. That’s what I had to do that day: practice some more.

What I’ve Learned

I’m imperfect at this, just like most of you. I felt angry first. I fussed. But then I made myself stop and choose better. A few things I’ve learned along the way:

The sweetness of family life comes through when we stay as calm and kind with our children as we can manage.
Children aren’t small adults. They don’t think like we do or behave as we do, and that means they’ll end up in trouble often as they grow and learn.
Living with children means living with the possibility of mess, frustration, and moments that test our patience. But damaging a relationship over a mess is never worth it.
Staying calm takes practice, practice, and more practice, and we won’t be perfect at it. The better we get at it, though, the better we feel about ourselves, and it tends to spill over into the rest of our lives too.

And here I am, all these years later, practicing all over again. : )

Finding Your Two Mites

My sister Cindy has a job caring for a man with dementia. As I know well, this can be an overwhelming and consuming responsibility. Here was her text to me:

“Mary, I need advice. Taking care of D. is draining me. I didn’t go to the temple all week. I’d leave his house, and I had nothing left. He wants to be with me constantly. When I’m cooking his food, he stands right next to me, and I have to move away. He asks me what he should do about everything. It’s exhausting.”

After some pondering, because I do know firsthand what this is like, here was my response: “No matter what our current mission, we can survive and even thrive, but we must revive.”

Watching over others truly is a mission, whether it’s caring for an elderly person with dementia, several toddlers, a house full of teens, or navigating a work environment. When we take on the task of teaching, guiding, nurturing, loving, and serving others, it’s a mission, and an important one that impacts the world beyond the walls of our home. But caring for and interacting with others can be challenging.

Most of the time, I take Mom on errands with me when I would rather be alone. She loves riding in the car, even though she can’t recall going five minutes after we return home. But in the moment, she’s satisfied and happy. The challenge is that every few minutes she asks the same question: “What town is this?” or makes the same observations: “Isn’t it interesting what people do to their yards?” or “Aren’t the mountains beautiful?”

Those of you raising children know exactly what I’m talking about: Mom, I can’t find my shoes. Where are my Legos? Can I have a snack? Why can’t Jimmy come over? And so it goes. Or the opposite, wondering if your teens will ever talk to you and let you know how they’re doing and what they’re doing. It can be exhausting. And what about maintaining peace at work when someone is having a hard day?

My mother sits quietly in her room much of the time, often sitting with her eyes closed or her head in her hands. This requires that I help her engage in some way. It can take as little as saying, “Mom, crochet,” or as much as walking her outside for a while. My husband Don requires frequent care as well. But if I look, I can find time to rest. But do I?

You, as mothers, know what this is like too. Your littles are busy playing for 30 minutes without fighting, or running around the backyard having fun. Your teens might be napping or off with friends. There is a lull at work. Often in these less hectic moments, instead of resting and being still, we do what needs to be done: dinner prep, laundry, finally getting to the disgusting bathroom, and so forth. Even though we aren’t wrangling kids or others, we are still busy working and keeping an ear out.

Thursday at 8 am, after being on the go since 6:15, I finally knelt to pray. Just as I was finishing, I heard Don calling from the living room. His feet, which were soaking in a special water bath, were done, and he needed help — no time to continue kneeling quietly and listening. No woman I know is immune from these types of interruptions.

So how do we manage? How do we stay calm, feel peace, and be happy despite what life really is? We have to find ways to revive, and for most of us in this season of life, they need to be simple, manageable, and only use small moments of time.

What Fills You Up

Over the years, ideas have come to my mind, some still useful and others that fell by the wayside and were replaced. It’s been a process, not a one-time thing. Here is what I currently do to center myself, reduce stress, find reasons to smile, and feel calm and happy.

Singing. Each evening I sit in the bathroom, my bedroom, or go outside and sing. I love singing. I do it with vim and vigor and never worry about who might hear. It’s wonderful and rejuvenating.

Reading in stolen moments. I always have a book in my bathroom. I visit this room several times a day, and at each visit I read at least one paragraph, sometimes half a page. I love reading; it feels fun, and fun is always restorative.

Getting up early. Although I resisted the impression for several years, I now get up at 6 to 6:30 am. I have found that I can have at least thirty minutes to an hour by myself before another voice is heard. No questions, no needs to fill.

A morning routine that says, “I matter.” Early in the morning, I have a routine that sets me up for the day. I pray, take my nutrition, and get dressed. I put on a small amount of powdered blush and lipstick and give myself a spritz of a perfume I love. I hadn’t done either in years, but when I began this year, it wasn’t for anyone else but me. They are simply small ways of saying, “Mary, I love you.” It’s amazing what tiny acts of self-care can do for the soul. I write three things in my gratitude journal and read my daily affirmations. Focusing on gratitude and reminding myself of who I am matters deeply as the day revs up, the frustrations increase, and the weariness sets in.

Friends who really know me. I have several friends I connect with regularly. I have lunch with one every three months. We live far apart, drive quite a way to meet in the middle, and want to make it special. I schedule calls with others once a month to once every three months. I had one of these calls last week and another this week. What a gift and a relief. I can share hard things. They listen, have good ideas, and we laugh a lot. It’s deeply restorative.

My nightly shower. I shower most nights. I pray for someone else, then feel the water, enjoy the silence, and let the day go. It’s something I have done since I was sixteen and has never lost its power to soothe my soul, return me to calm, and center me as a daughter of God.

My next-day worksheet. Each evening I write down whatever is cluttering my mind on my next-day worksheet. Someone asked me recently if I wake up at night thinking about all the appointments, doctors, and problems coming up. I was able to say, honestly, never. It’s all on a sheet waiting for me in the morning, and I am free to relax and sleep.

Listening and responding. All day long, thoughts come to my mind: that wasn’t okay, try this instead, stop and finish tomorrow, sit down, you’re a silly woman so smile. I believe these thoughts come from God because I am loved and need the help. Following them has made an enormous difference.

None of these things are managed perfectly. I may miss a shower because it’s just too late. I may not read every time I visit the bathroom because someone is calling for me. Not everything in my morning routine gets done every day. But I manage well enough, and that’s why I’ve been able to do what I’m doing for nine years without falling apart.

Look Back to Find What You’ve Lost

My granddaughter Lizzy is a painter and does wonderfully creative work. She has had her paintings in several shows. Recently, she lamented in a Facebook post that she hasn’t painted a single stroke since her daughter Ila was born several months ago. I could relate.

I used to sing constantly, the songs my mother sang from the 1940s and the music I grew up with in the 50s and 60s. I sang while gardening, cleaning, and caring for my kids. When I wasn’t singing, I played music. Then somewhere in the busyness of caring for my mother and Don, I stopped. No music at all. As I have shared, I finally began singing again in the last year and a half, nudged back to it by a quiet thought I believe came from God.

Since writing my recent article on stillness and making space for yourself, I’ve begun playing music again, the music I grew up with and sang as a busy mother of seven. I have found it exhilarating. I hadn’t realized how much I missed something I had quietly let go.

As you look for what rejuvenates you, think back. What did you love and let go of in the busyness of parenting, working, grandparenting? What might still be waiting for you to return to it?

Your Two Mites

As I wrote about recently, the widow’s mite teaches us that what we give from the heart, even when it feels small, is enough. My list will not work for everyone. I am an Upholder with a busy and energetic nature, so this approach works for me. You will need to determine what works for you. Then make a list. Be clear in your own mind about how you’re going to revive each day, regardless of your energy and temperament. A written list of your ideas can show you whether you’re on track or whether some honest pondering is needed.

We all bring what we have. Some days it’s more, and some days it’s two small mites. But given consistently and from the heart, it’s enough for those we serve and for ourselves.

We can survive and even thrive, but we must find ways to revive.

Stop Fixing the Cookies!

When you’re engaged in a project, what matters to you? For many adults, it’s the outcome. We want the cookies to taste good, the tomatoes to grow large and red, the dress to look store-bought, and the painting to be perfect. I know that doesn’t apply to every adult, but it does apply to many of us.

When children are engaged in a project, what matters to them? For the most part, it’s the process. Have you ever watched a five-year-old paint? They like digging the brush deep in the paint and swirling it around. They like lots of paint on the brush. Then they swipe it onto the paper. They smile at the brightness of the color. They aren’t usually concerned if the red bleeds into the green or if the red turns the yellow a tad orange at the edges. It’s the act of painting they care about. And when it’s done, no matter how it turned out, they are happy and proud.

We can increase our joy when working with children if we let go of the outcome. The act of creating is what children love. It’s what makes learning fun. Our job is to provide the materials and the inspiration. Theirs is to create the outcome.

A Party is a Perfect Venue

Any time we can encourage creative exploration, we are on the path to helping our children gain confidence and learn new things. Even a child’s party is a perfect venue for allowing a child to create without worrying about the outcome.

My mom gave me some amazing parties. I recall that in my seventh-grade year, I had a taffy party. I had seven or eight friends over, and my mom taught us to make pulled taffy. It turned out well. It was so much fun. We had a really good time, and each girl had a gift, a plate of taffy, to take home. My mom showed us what to do and then stood back and let us do it.

I followed my mom’s footsteps. One year we had a dress-up party. I collected dress-ups from thrift stores, and when the children arrived, they each designed an outfit. Then we had a wonderful parade around the block. I supplied the materials, and the kids did the rest. I didn’t help them put their outfits together. The outcome wasn’t the priority; creating was.

Another time I helped the kids make sugar cookies from scratch. They frosted and decorated them with small candies, raisins, and other edible treats. Then the cookies were packed into small boxes to take home. I didn’t fix any cookies that didn’t look perfect. It was tempting because what their parents would see might reflect on me. But I shut out that story and let the kids create.

When my youngest daughter was turning eleven, we had a formal tea party. The guests came in their best dresses and were served by mothers who had been enlisted to help. The ice cream was cut into little teapots using a teapot cookie cutter, and each girl had her own miniature cake. They were encouraged to converse. The other moms and I made ourselves scarce and allowed the girls to figure out how a tea party worked. They got the hang of it, and soon there was an ample amount of giggling and chatting going on in the living room. Each girl went home with a miniature tea set purchased at the dollar store. Kate said it was her favorite party.

One year my son had a relay party. All the activities were relay games. We found lots of ideas by asking his grandparents about games they remembered, games I recalled from my school days, and books from the library. The instructions were given, and then the adults sat on the sidelines and let the kids hash it out. They had a wonderful time.

What Would I Do Differently?

Although I stood back and let the children at the party do their thing, here is what I would have done differently if I could go back. I put together wonderfully creative activities, but I did all the planning, just as my mother had done. Wouldn’t it have been a great learning and growing experience to sit down with the birthday girl or boy and plan it together? I bet often they would have loved my idea. Occasionally they might have had a completely different idea, which would have required me to step back and change course, not always an easy thing. But doing that would have helped them work on skills they would need as adults, rather than just showing up at a party and having fun. Think of all the learning that could happen when a child and parent plan something together.

There is real value in stepping back and allowing our children to create without worrying about the outcome. I once read that the greatest teachers replace themselves. When children feel courageous and excited to venture out, learn new things, and then use what they’ve learned to bring joy to others, that’s something worth celebrating.

Any time we foster the skills of creation, thinking, and problem-solving, we are helping our children on the path to becoming capable, confident adults.

Drunken Snails and Other Miracles

When I moved from Montana to Utah in my late 50s, something stopped me in my tracks – the realization that I was responsible for my responses, no matter the circumstances or the people involved. This hit me hard. I couldn’t blame others for how I felt! I was mad and honestly didn’t want it to be true. But I am a learner, and the thought wouldn’t leave.

The Quest

I began a quest to learn more about receiving good into my life. I had grown up believing that everything was hard and a struggle. I was done with that story. One of my early mentors was Leslie Householder. I read her book The Jackrabbit Factor and its sequel, Portal to Genius, and attended several classes. What I learned changed everything. If I had faith, believed in myself, and kept a handle on my thoughts, miracles could and would happen.

I wanted all seven of my kids to understand what I was learning. Without meaning to, I had taught them through example that life was hard and a struggle. We live how we were taught. I wanted something better for my kids. I wanted them to have control over their thoughts and the results that come from holding to the belief that we are creators, not victims, and that we can have miracles.

Andrew was twenty-nine at the time. He had just lost a job he had given his heart and soul to and gotten very little back. He was feeling down about it. Every time we talked, and that wasn’t often, I asked him if he had read The Jackrabbit Factor. I knew it would help him see things in a more positive light. I have to admit I nagged just a bit!

One morning he called me and talked for about 40 minutes. This was out of the ordinary, as our calls usually lasted 10 minutes, with me asking questions and him answering with a yes or no. He wanted to share what he was learning and say thanks. Andrew is a quiet man and not demonstrative, but I could hear the happiness in his voice. He was excited and grateful. He even told me he was glad I had nagged!

Andrew had been practicing the principles Leslie taught, and they were working for him. He was still looking for a new job. Then his car broke down. For several months it just sat there. After reading the book, he set a goal to get it fixed and changed his thinking about it. Within a few days he got two calls, offers of help and less expensive parts than he had expected. The car got fixed. He also found work that suited him well.

What About Those Drunken Snails?

Here’s another fun example of the changes in Andrew’s way of thinking. Simple yet powerful.

He is an avid gardener. He had a very small yard, at the time, which he tended with loving care. One year he planted sunflowers which the snails promptly ate. He planted them again the next year. To ward off the snails, he put pans of beer in the garden. One night there was a huge storm. He was sitting in the living room worrying about his 1″ high sunflower seedlings. He had this thought, “Last year the snails got them, and this year it’s the storm.” Then he caught himself and remembered what he had learned from reading The Jackrabbit Factor. He changed his mind chatter to, “It isn’t morning yet, so I’m not going to sit here and worry about what hasn’t happened. They will be just fine.” When he went out to check on the seedlings in the morning, he told me that not only were they just fine, there seemed to be twice as many sprouts and the garden was filled with very happy, drunken snails!

This experience with Andrew happened in 2010. At the beginning of that year, I had made a list of things I wanted in my life. They weren’t physical things but quality-of-life changes. For them to happen would require miracles. Because of the principles I had learned, I wrote them down, read them regularly, and waited for opportunities. One of the items on my list was that Andrew and I would have more meaningful and regular conversations. The book and his experiences opened a doorway for us, and our communication increased.

We all are who we are when we begin. Our job is to grow and to help our children see, by example, a better way. We can teach them as we learn. Our mistakes are not permanent. We can impact even our grown children if it takes us that long to figure things out — and sometimes it does. A good parent never stops working on becoming a better person, and in doing so they impact their children for good. I mentored parents for over a decade and a half, and the one thing most of them needed to hear was this — it’s never too late.

You can learn, grow, and be the example your child needs. It’s never too late!

Two Mites and a Moment of Stillness

I had the privilege of cleaning in the LDS Syracuse Temple. It was enjoyable because of the building’s beauty, peace, and quiet. It was also wonderful because of my working partner, Melissa. We had a deep, interesting, and moving conversation about learning to slow down and being still.

This is something I’ve been tutored in for over a decade, but it still isn’t a habit for me. I’m a mover, shaker, and finisher. Stopping and stillness are not part of my natural energy.

So, what has my tutoring in stopping and being still looked like?

When working on a project such as organizing the garage or simply cleaning the bathroom, I occasionally have the thought to stop, to finish later. I know the thought isn’t coming from me because I’m a finisher. I look heavenward and think, “I could finish this!” The next thought is often, “It will wait. Go and….” Then something that matters more will come to mind: check on Maggie, see if Jodie needs help, hug Don, touch a grandchild passing through, see what my mom is doing, call a friend, or sit and rest.

And here is where an insight Melissa had fits in beautifully. She compared our experiences to the parable of the widow’s mite — what we give from the heart, even if it’s just two small coins’ worth of effort, is enough. Maybe all I got done was cleaning several shelves in the garage or just the toilet bowl. It’s enough, and it will hold until I can give more without sacrificing the things that matter most: rest, connection with a child or spouse, caring for another person, etc. (The Parable of the Widow’s Mite is found in Mark 12:41-44 and Luke 21:1-4)

Stopping and being still is valuable for many reasons. When we stop, even for a few moments, we can unravel problems, come up with solutions, rewrite our stories, and make wiser decisions. We can really see another person — a child or spouse, a friend or neighbor — and let them know we see them. We can appreciate the beauty around us, even if we’re feeling grief, sadness, anger, or loneliness. Stillness brings a measure of peace regardless of what’s happening in life. Over time, this practice of slowing down and being still leads to better health and a sense of well-being we might otherwise miss.

My favorite scripture has long been “Be still and know that I am God.” Psalm 46:10. It’s been a favorite since my early adulthood. In my heart I’ve always known that stillness, stopping for a few minutes, was a valuable gift I could give myself if I would.

Slow Down

This past Wednesday, I was introduced to the song “Slow Down” by Sissel, a singer from Norway.

In the midst of my confusion
In the time of desperate need
When I am thinking not too clearly
A gentle voice does intercede

In the time of tribulation
When I’m feeling so unsure
When things are pressing in about me
Comes a gentle voice so still, so pure

Slow down, slow down, be still, my child
Be still and wait, on the Spirit of the Lord
Slow down and hear His voice
And know that He is God

You may have another view of God and life, but I’ll bet these words still stir your heart as a parent, homemaker, working woman, neighbor, friend, etc. We are all busy.

An Incredible and Moving Thought

Monday morning, I got up at 6 am. I did my morning routine to center myself for the day. I took care of my husband’s health list, dressed, fed, and helped my mom with her needs, helped with Maggie, and so on. Around noon, I was in the bathroom resting, LOL, and I had this thought:

“Mary Ann, it isn’t what you do, but the pace at which you do it.”

That is why this song, and my favorite verse of scripture, touched me so deeply this past week. I know it’s important to be still, to slow the pace of life, even for a few minutes.

I’m working to be still, to slow down during the day, to sit with no agenda even for a few minutes: to begin my affirmations with purposeful silence and not rush through them, to intentionally give myself time to think and hear after prayer. I’ve been experimenting with sitting on the patio, looking out on the world, and not feeling pressed to move to the next thing for at least 5 to 10 minutes. : ) I’m managing it fairly well, and I’m looking forward to how this changes me, because I know it will.

And that brings me back to Melissa and the widow’s mite. Some people have learned to slow down and be still; it comes naturally to them, or they’ve cultivated it over time. For me, and for many of you, I bring my two mites, because right now that’s all I have, and as Christ and the widow taught us, it is enough.

If you’ve had experiences with stillness, I would love to hear about them. I can use the ideas and motivation, and I’m sure many of you can too.

A Spring Story – A Principle Taught

It’s spring — that season of newness, freshness, and quiet beginnings. It seemed the perfect time to share a story from Jaroldeen Asplund Edwards’ book The Daffodil Principle, because it beautifully illustrates something I’ve come to believe deeply: that lasting change happens 1% at a time. Not in grand gestures or overnight transformations, but in small, consistent efforts that grow into something magnificent. The story below is a beautiful illustration of this life-changing principle

Daffodil Garden

Several times, my daughter had telephoned to say, “Mother, you must come and see the daffodils before they are over.” “I will come next Tuesday,” I promised…

We parked in a small parking lot adjoining a little stone church. On the far side of the church, I saw a pine-needle-covered path, with towering evergreens and manzanita bushes and an inconspicuous, lettered sign “Daffodil Garden.”

We each took a child’s hand, and I followed Carolyn down the path…Then we turned a corner…, and I looked up and gasped. Before me lay the most glorious sight, unexpectedly and completely splendid. It looked as though someone had taken a great vat of gold and poured it down over the mountain peak and slopes, where it had run into every crevice and over every rise. The flowers were planted in majestic, swirling patterns, great ribbons, and swaths of deep orange, white, lemon yellow, salmon pink, saffron, and butter yellow.

“But who has done this?” I asked Carolyn. I was overflowing with gratitude that she brought me…This was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

“It’s just one woman,” Carolyn answered. “She lives on the property. That’s her home.” Carolyn pointed to a well-kept A-frame house that looked small and modest in the midst of all that glory.

We walked up to the house, my mind buzzing with questions. 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 very little brain.” The third answer was, “Began in 1958.”

There it was, the Daffodil Principle. For me, that moment was a life-changing experience. I thought of this woman whom I had never met, who, more than thirty-five years before, had begun – one bulb at a time – to bring her vision of beauty and joy to an obscure mountain top. One bulb at a time. There was no other way to do it. No shortcuts – simply loving the slow process of planting. Loving the work as it unfolded. Loving an achievement that grew so slowly and that bloomed for only three weeks of each year.

Still, just planting one bulb at a time, year after year, had changed the world. She had created something of ineffable magnificence, beauty, and inspiration. The principle her daffodil garden taught is one of the greatest principles of celebration: learning to move toward our goals and desires one step at a time – often just one baby-step at a time – 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.

The thought of it filled my mind. I was suddenly overwhelmed with the implications of what I had seen. “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 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 wise daughter put the car into gear and summed up the message of the day in her direct way. “Start tomorrow,” she said with the same knowing smile she had worn for most of the morning. Oh, profound wisdom!

What I Have Learned

In my 76 years, I’ve never seen anything truly great happen in a single burst. Every worthy goal, every beautiful thing built — a family raised, a skill developed, a grief endured — was accomplished through small steps, taken one at a time, for as long as it took. That is the 1% Principle, and it has become one of the truest guides of my life.

Here’s what it means in practice: rather than trying to fix or change everything at once, you focus on the best 1% — the one thing most worth improving right now. What I’ve found is that real progress in that one area quietly lifts everything else around it. You don’t have to splinter your attention across every problem. Consistent, focused effort on the right 1% creates momentum that spreads.

The woman in that daffodil garden didn’t set out to create a masterpiece in a season. She just planted one bulb. Then another. For 35 years. And the mountain was transformed.

You and I can do the same. We don’t have to have started 35 years ago.
We just need to begin today.

Listening, Trusting, and Following Through Make a World of Difference

The Day of Surgery

The day of my hip surgery, September 3, after returning home, I was going up and down our two stairs, caregiving, and managing as if I had never had surgery. One week out, I canned salsa. The doctor had told me I would recover quickly because I was so active. When I asked about canning, he said I could do whatever I had energy for because my new hip was made to stand on. That’s why I was in crazy mode for the first two weeks after surgery. And it was crazy!

Reality Is No FUN! Getting Help Is

At the end of the first two weeks, reality descended. I fell into extreme fatigue and became depressed. I couldn’t shake the feelings of worry, fear, sadness, anger, resentment, powerlessness, etc. My hip began to bother me when I sat or when I first began walking after sitting. I was totally unprepared for this. It wasn’t what I was expecting after two fabulously energetic and pain-free weeks. What had happened?

Caregiving didn’t go away because I was struggling. Mom and Don still needed help with everything. My daughter helped when she could, but she works full-time, has four teens, one with severe CP. I had to keep doing what was necessary because life goes on. This was the reality of my situation, but how could I continue when I felt so unable to manage myself and my feelings?

I was desperate for answers. So, I did what I do. I prayed for help, resources, and thoughts. As I knew it would, help came. I received information from two trusted sources that let me know that depression is part of the healing process. The body uses all the energy it can to do its healing work, which leaves one depleted. Knowing this, that there wasn’t anything wrong with me, that I wasn’t weak, and was in exactly the correct place, helped me cope with how I felt, until the depression and most of the hip discomfort went away in late December.

A Thought That Made A Difference

Today, I want to focus on one thought that came to me, which I immediately implemented, even though it seemed odd. Then I’ll share the amazing clarity I received as to why trusting the thought and following through made such a difference at a very challenging time.

The thought was to open the hymnal on my phone and sing 1-2 songs each evening. Really, I was living a very busy caregiving life. I had just had surgery and was struggling. I didn’t want to add something else to my already loaded plate! But I listened. It was fall and warm, so I went outdoors at sunset and sang. I couldn’t always sit, so I would stand. It lifted my spirits. It caused me to smile. I have continued this simple practice. Eventually, I couldn’t go outdoors because of the changing weather, so I would sit at my desk in the bedroom or in the bathroom before my nightly shower. The fatigue and depression, although still there, began to be more manageable.

In November, they announced the church choir would begin practicing for the Christmas program. I had quit singing three years earlier. It was too hard to take Mom and Don home, feed them, and then go back for choir. But for the two hours we were at church that day, the thought kept returning. “Mary, sing in the choir.” “Join the choir.” “Don’t forget choir.” Finally, I looked heavenward and said under my breath, “OK!!”, in a frustrated voice. I took Mom and Don home and returned to the church at 3. It was a beautiful and uplifting experience! I hadn’t realized how much letting go of my music had affected me. I had forgotten how much I loved singing.

I was given a small solo, even though I had been gone for three years. Singing a solo was on my bucket list, and here I was at 75, doing it for the first time, after a three-year hiatus. A miracle. Singing daily in the evening and on Sunday with the choir was one of the things that helped my heart shed the burdens it felt.

The Christmas program was wonderful, and I did a good job. It was fun, and I was glad I had listened to my thought. The depression had gone, and I was managing well. But it didn’t end there.

On Sunday, January 18th, they announced there would be a choir for a larger church meeting held a couple of times a year. I knew the singers in this choir would all be better at the craft than I am. I don’t read music well, so I have to memorize my part, but I felt I would have time to do that. I really enjoyed the first practice, despite being in deep water. : )

Why Did It Make A Difference?

Driving home after that first choir practice, I was pondering the whole music/singing issue. Why had it made such a difference? Was it the singing itself, the music, being with a group, what? In that moment of thought, I got a download; it filled my mind and heart. It wasn’t about the music or the singing. It wasn’t about being part of something. It was the sense that I was caring for myself because I matter. I’m worth caring for. This is exactly what I know I am doing when I shower at night. I’ve been showering at night for over 30 years. Caring for myself is what I’m doing when I schedule those phone calls, walks, and the occasional lunch that I resisted doing for three years and recently told you about.

In each of these situations: creating regular connections with other women, taking a hot shower at night, singing in the evening, joining the choir, I was intentionally caring for my heart, my mind, my emotions, my healing, not just from surgery, but from the challenges of everyday living. It was mind-blowing and mind-opening. It made so much sense.

We all find ourselves in this place, maybe not from surgery or illness, but from managing a family, a job, and life. It can feel overwhelming. And we all must learn to manage the feelings this overwhelm can generate.

I mentioned some time back the story I’ve been dealing with for over nine years, “There is no time in my life for me.” I know it’s a story, but it hasn’t been easy to dispel because my life is packed with people to care for, and I gave up a carefully built career to take it on. In this moment of clarity, after that choir practice, I understood that the things I had been led to do by my creator were designed to help me care for myself, to say in a physical way, “I love you, Mary Ann. You matter to me as much as anyone!” The activities I have added to my hectic life in the last couple of years are making a difference, a world of difference.

No matter what your situation looks like, if you ponder and think about how you can care for yourself, thoughts and resources will come. Don’t dismiss them like I did when the thought came to create a group of women I could connect with consistently. Don’t dismiss them if they seem odd, like adding choir practice or evening singing to your already packed day. Don’t dismiss them if they seem frivolous, like scheduling walks or going to lunch once every three months. LOL

Every evening, I still shower, pray for someone, put on lotion, read a few paragraphs, and spend time alone. I can usually give myself 10 to 15 minutes. : ) I still sing every evening. I have my calls, walks, and one lunch preset so they actually happen. I’m diligently working on rewriting that old story, one God-given thought and then one action at a time. I’m sending the message loud and clear to myself,

“There’s always time for you because you matter as much as anyone!”

Transparency as We Begin 2026

I post once a day on my three Facebook sites and Instagram. For the most part, the posts are happy, upbeat, and about family. I do this for my readers, and I also do it as a way of documenting my family. Someday, these posts will be a series of books called 365 Days, 365 Ways to Be a Family.

Here is a post I made in September –

Two Wednesdays ago, August 20th, Don had a right hip replacement. He is recovering well, and it is a relief to have the pain gone. He has suffered for over a year while insurance, etc., was being worked out. This last Wednesday, September 3rd, I had a right hip replacement. Yikes, are we nuts or what? The fun part is that we are exercising together and doing PT together. Makes it a bit more enjoyable. I am only two days out, but I am doing VERY well! Thank goodness.

This elicited a response from an old friend: Hope you both recover quickly! I love how you make the best out of any situation. Kristine A.

Two weeks after this response from Kristine, my life went into the dumpster. I realized that most of what was happening would never be known by my family, followers, readers, and friends. Why? Because I wouldn’t talk about it or post about it. Why?

Almost thirty years ago, I began my journey to accept what God had told me when I still lived in Montana: You’re 100% responsible for your response. You cannot blame circumstances or others for how your life feels. I’ve written about this experience and the fact that it took over ten years to stop being mad about this information and to accept it; five years while still in Montana with a struggling family, and five in Utah, as I worked to understand this truth.

A few years after arriving in Utah, I took a class from Kirk Duncan at Three Key Elements. In that class, we talked about negative energy and how harmful it can be to spill yours onto someone else. They shared healthy ways to deal with negative emotions and experiences, without dumping on others. Then, I took several classes where I began learning that how I perceived a thing, my story, was within my power to control. It was a lot to take in, but I was eager to learn the truth of what I had been told by God and stop fighting against it.

Two weeks after my surgery, when I began struggling, I thought about Kristine’s comment. I was reminded how important it is that those I care about know I’m not perfect, my life is not perfect, I struggle, and I still must work and practice to live true principles.

I’ve thought a lot about this over the last few months, since my surgery, and I decided to share some of what I experienced because it may be valuable to you when things go wrong in your day or life.

It’s imperative to understand that no one’s life is perfect or pain-free, and no one responds well all the time. If we believe this, then we are less likely to compare ourselves to others because we know we do not have the whole story. This is true even of those we are close to.

After my hip surgery, I was told I would recover faster than Don because of my pre-surgery activity. I needed to bottle salsa because we were out, and my surgery was on the 3rd of September. I asked the PA if I could do this before the canning season passed. He said, “You can do anything you have energy for. Your new hip was made to stand on.” I took him at his word. I was going up and down our two steps the day I got home from surgery, doing my regular caregiving things, dozens of times. A couple of days later, I was making salsa. It turned out great.

At the end of week two, I began having deep feelings of discouragement, depression, and anger. I was diligently trying to do what my reader said I was good at, making the best of any situation. I wasn’t succeeding, and I began to struggle with my story. Because Don was pain-free and I wasn’t, I must have hurt my new hip. I was a nitwit to keep up my caregiving routine, cooking, doing laundry, etc., and not spending more time sitting and resting. My husband was incontinent after his surgery, and I had to wash 4-6 pairs of outer pants every day. My mom still had dementia and needed help with everything. I didn’t see any way out. Because I was up and about and looked great, no one realized what was happening in my head.

I couldn’t lie down without pain, so I had to sleep in a borrowed recliner for two weeks. Don was in the other one. I need darkness, and he needs light. I wake at the slightest sound, and he can sleep through anything. I wasn’t getting good sleep at night. I woke up often. I would look at the clock each time and say to myself, “Agggg, I only slept an hour and a half. What’s wrong with me?!” Every day was filled with fatigue, but I am who I am. I would get up and do what needed to be done. It’s my nature, but it added to the mental and emotional stress I was feeling. A full month passed.

Despite not understanding what was happening and feeling so discouraged, I pondered and prayed a lot, searching for information, resources, and solutions. I kept reminding myself that I have control over my story and how my life feels. I knew I needed more information than I had, that I needed help. Experience had taught me these things, and even though I wasn’t managing well, I remembered. I knew I needed to take a step.

I finally did a wise thing and sought support. I talked to my daughter. She had already begun seeing that there was a problem. She has a 19-year-old special needs daughter and three other teens. I didn’t want her to pick up any of my load, but I knew I needed help. She began doing small things whenever she came into our part of the house. She emptied the potty in Mom’s room, put more pants and Depends in the bathroom for Don, filled water glasses, did a load of dishes, etc. She asked me if we would share her evening meal, so I didn’t need to cook three times a day. She’s been sharing dinner with us for three months now, and some days I know it was a lifesaver. Beginning today, January 1, I’m taking it back. I’m ready. : )

Remember those prayers I said and the pondering I did? I was seeking information and resources. A week after taking that small step and talking with Jodie, a resource came. I have a scheduled call with my friend Joy every month. I got brave and told her the facts about where I was mentally and emotionally. She reminded me of a tool I knew about but hadn’t thought to use, tapping for health. I took her advice and put the tapping instructions on the wall across from the toilet. I began tapping every morning while saying my truth statements/affirmations. From the first day, I felt different. I could feel the anxiety, mental fog, and depression lessening.

Joy also mentioned that depression is part of healing and wasn’t happening because I was weak. What!! Could this be true? Here was new information. A light bulb went on, and I felt that what she was saying was true. In that moment, the story that I was a nitwit or had hurt myself caved in.

That same week, I got brave and mentioned how I was feeling with Laurie, the hospice nurse who comes and checks on my mom. She said, “Mary, depression is part of healing. It’s a reminder to rest and breathe. You’re OK, and it will pass.” There was my confirmation of the new information I had gotten from Joy. Laurie also told me that when we’re healing, we wake up at night because it requires energy to heal, and most of our healing occurs at night. So, waking up was also OK. Whew. Now, when I woke up, I would say to myself, “Wow, you’re doing some great healing!” The old story disappeared for good, and a new story took its place!!

Within a few days, I was feeling more myself. Within another month and a half, the fatigue was almost gone, and I could manage much better. I’m now four months out from hip surgery. Don has no hip pain, but I still do, occasionally. I know I haven’t hurt myself or overdone it; it’s just my healing process. I’m staying on top of my story. To solidify my story, when Don’s physical therapist came this last Wednesday, I asked him about it. He laughed and said something like, “You’re so busy. Sometimes your hip reminds you it’s still healing, but you’re OK.”

Here is the point

of this very transparent, vulnerable, and lengthy article – we are all doing our best, but it isn’t always enough. There are times when we need help, more information, and resources.

When I was in trouble, I utilized what I had learned from experience. When you’re struggling, they may help you.

1. Don’t dump your negative stuff on people. If you’re feeling negative, sit in the car and yell. Go outside and hug a tree and dump out all your frustration and anger, all your hurt.
2. Then begin seeking solutions. Take charge of yourself. Be willing to take a small step.
3. Ponder, pray, read, talk to a friend, whatever works for you, and seek information and resources. They are there, but you must take a step to find them. You must move. My first step was talking to Jodie. I wish I had done it in week two and not a full month out. I wouldn’t have sunk so far, suffered so much, and would have made quicker healing progress.
4. Remind yourself you’re in control of your story. If it stinks, take charge and do what you need to, to rewrite it. Stay out of blame, even if you want to blame the young P.A. for his youthful words. : ) You are 100% responsible for your response to whatever is happening.
5. Never judge yourself by what is happening on social media, in your neighborhood, at church, or among your friends. Comparing is always a slippery road to take.

The Truth

I put my best out there because I can help others when I do, but I am not always happy, gentle, cheerful, or in control. I have tough days, and I’m always working on a story of some kind. Just know we are pretty much all alike, succeeding and failing at the same time, and it’s OK. Here’s something I say to myself every morning. It’s one of my truth statements/affirmations: Every day, in every way, I am better and better.

Please know I will always tend toward the positive because I have spent over 30 years learning how to take responsibility for myself and my life, regardless of circumstances or what others do or say. I am practiced at it. Also know that I struggle still. Life has its ups and downs. There’s always something new to experience and figure out. Sometimes I’m successful in an effort, and sometimes I fail. That is life.

I want you to be brave and do what I have done. Practice taking 100% responsibility for you. Forgive others. Forgive yourself. Talk kindly to and about yourself, even when you mess up. Give others and yourself grace. Be patient when you don’t know what to do, even if it takes years to figure out. Remember, it took me ten years to stop raging and another ten to accept that I had 100% responsibility for my response. If you keep pondering, praying, learning, growing, and changing, you will find the resources and information you need.