Wonder of Wonder, Miracle of Miracles!

So, you're probably thinking this means that I'm dating someone/getting married. It doesn't have anything to do with that. Sorry....

Last week I was subbing at Heath Middle School and was having lunch in the teachers lounge with a bunch of other teachers. One of the teachers, the choir teacher, was talking about how she doesn't like people saying "Merry Christmas" because she's Jewish and she thinks it's rude for people to assume everyone celebrates Christmas. She says she appreciates the Merry part, but would rather someone just say, "Have a good evening!" or something like that. I guess she has a point, but that's not the point I want to make. The story continues. Someone asked her about Hanukkah and what she did to celebrate it. First I want to share what Hannukkah is, since most/all of my readers are Christians/LDS.

In between the Old and New Testaments there is missing Jewish History found in the Apocrypha, including the story of the first Hanukkah. What happened was that the Jews re-took the temple from the Syrian King Antiochus IV. The temple was cleansed and prepared for dedication. At the dedication the Menorah, a sacred Candelabra, was lit in the Temple. I'm not sure what it symbolizes, probably the presence of Christ/God in the temple, His Holy House. The Menorah only had enough holy (consecrated) oil to burn for one day and night, but it burned for eight days and nights until more holy oil could be gathered. Hanukkah is celebrated to remember this miracle. The Jews celebrate for eight days by lighting one candle on their Menorah's every night, along with gifts and other games and traditions.

Anyway, back to my story. The choir teacher said that she didn't do much to celebrate and that it's mostly for the children. She said it wasn't a big deal because it's just a story for the kiddies, like Santa. She said that it was impossible for one days worth of oil to burn for eight, so it couldn't have happened.

While I'm not Jewish it shouldn't have mattered to me what her views are about Hanukkah, but it made me sad that she thinks this. I believe in miracles and I'm positive that God did allow the oil to burn longer than it should have. At this time the Jews were God's chosen people and they were doing His work. They came back to Jerusalem and rededicated themselves and the temple to God and His work. God was showing them their work was acceptable to Him and that He would again dwell in the temple. I was sad that she didn't have faith in her own history and her God to believe that He could do miracles. She didn't believe that God loved His people enough to perform miracles for them.

It reminded me of Moroni 7:35-38

35 And now, my beloved brethren, if this be the case that these things are true which I have spoken unto you [answered the ends of the law, and he claimeth all those who have faith in him, and advocateth the cause of the children of men; and he dwelleth eternally in the heavens and ascended to Heave to take His place next to The Father], and God will show unto you, with power and great glory at the last day, that they are true, and if they are true has the day of miracles ceased? 
36 Or have angels ceased to appear unto the children of men? Or has he witheld the power of the Holy Ghost from them? Or will he, so long as time shall last, or the earth shall stand, or there shall be one man upon the face thereof to be saved?

37 Behold I say unto you, Nay; for it is by faith that miracles are wrought; and it is by faith that angels appear and minister unto men; wherefore, if these things have ceased wo be unto the children of men, for it is because of unbelief, and all is vain.

38 For no man can be saved, according to the words of Christ, save they shall have faith in his name; wherefore, if these things have ceased, then has faith ceased also; and awful is the state of man, for they are as though there had been no redemption made.

So, Miracles have not only existed, they don't cease to exist. Because some of His children have faith. If you don't see miracles in your life, you're living incorrectly and you lack the faith to have miracles exist. Or you lack the wisdom to see them. God still loves us. He always will. He will never give up on us. He desires to bless us with miracles in our lives. He's granted miracles in my life, and not a few. Quite a lot, actually. And He will continue to do so.

The Joy From the Eye-Balls of Children

I love little children. They are hilarious. I love to spend time with kids because they remind me that we can find joy anywhere.

While I am looking forward to teaching high school, I really love subbing for elementary students. I subbed for a kindergartn class last Monday and Tuesday. They were so cute! There was one that was barely taller than my knee-caps. They were so excited to learn and show how smart they are. They loved giving hugs, even to me who they hadn't known longer than 12 hours.
There were a few times with my literacy group (they're learning their ABC's, the sounds of letters, and putting letters/sound together to form words) I wanted them to listen to some directions, but I wanted to make sure everyone was listening. I told them I would know when they were ready if I could see their eye-balls. They had no idea what an eye-ball was, so I had to explain. They thought that was pretty funny, and while I talked some of them tried to make their eyes as big as possible so I could see their 'entire' eyeball.
When I picked them up from lunch recess I found a lady bug. I picked it up and took it inside and the kids came and crowded around me and looked at the lady bug. Some of them had never seen a lady bug before. They were so excited about this lady bug, even though it was just a bug. One of them told me I needed to take her outside because someone on TV said that we should leave animals in their homes. When we were about to take her outside, the lady bug flew to the ceiling. I told them the lady bug knew we were going to take it outside, but it wanted to stay in the classroom to learn and be with them. They were worried she would starve and at snack time one of them left a peice of their pear on the desk for her so she wouldn't die over thanksgiving break.
The kids were so loving to everyone. I asked them on the second day if they were glad I was back. They thought and one said, "We like Mrs. Ballard, but we're glad you're here!" The others agreed. I got hugs all day long and they were so excited to tell me everything that they did the weekend before, the night in between, what they were doing for Thanksgiving, and one kept telling me about a carnival that I would guess was the Greeley Stampede at the beginning of July. They were so excited to share with me; crayons, pencils, erasers, rocks, pictures, and anything else. They told me that I colored beautifully, that I sang beautifully, and that I was beautiful.
We read a Thanksgiving book about a little girl and her mommy. The little girl was asking her mom what she was most thankful for. Her mom told her to guess, so she got the photo album and looked through it. She guessed her camping trips, her talent show when she was younger, her soccer games, her wedding, and other things, but her mom kept telling her that even if those things were better, they wouldn't be her most thankful thing. The girl got to the part where she was born and her mom said that was her most thankful thing, the daughter. After the book was over I asked them who thought they were their parents most thankful thing. They all raised their hands. I'm sure, and I hope, they are.
I've been thinking about being like a child. They are so excited to learn new things. They are so kind and loving, and they are just so happy. I want to see things with the eye-balls of kindergartners forever. I want to see rocks with fun shapes and be happy. I want to see a lady bug and share food with it so it won't starve. I want to share with others and feel glad and not bitter or worried I wouldn't get it back. I want to make people feel good about themselves. I want to make other people happy.

And Now, Something Serious

In consequence of the recent suicides of several homosexual young men, I write this post. I work in a field that draws many homosexual men and women. As a Member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I do believe it is wrong to act upon homosexual tendencies. I don’t believe that God makes people homosexual. Nor do I think it is one hundred percent a choice to be gay. I feel that, often, people are labeled as ‘gay’ by their peers and they soon mold themselves to fit that label. I believe society 'makes' people 'gay'. I also believe that homosexual tendencies are temptations. Just like smoking is appealing for some and absolutely atrocious to others, so is being homosexual. It is a choice and a sin to ACT on those tendencies. It is NOT a choice or a sin to have that temptation. We don’t choose our temptations, but we can learn to overcome them with the help of the Savior. He has borne our grief and suffered our temptations so he can know and show us how to conquer them.

While I do believe these things, I do NOT believe that homosexuals should be shunned, teased, bullied, or beat up. Homosexuals are people, just like me and you. While we do not need to accept their lifestyle, we do need to accept the person. Why is it that we as Latter-day Saints are quick to accept our friends who drink, do drugs, have premarital sex, swear, smoke, lie, cheat, steal, and any other thing, but we are not accepting of people who are homosexual? Is it because we don’t see homosexuality as normal and we’re afraid? Why do we call things gay when we don’t like something, and why is that acceptable? It shouldn’t be.

Christ taught us to be accepting of all men and women. They are all our Brothers and Sisters. Christ loved them enough to suffer in the Garden of Gethsemane and die for them, just like he did for me, for you, and for all men and women.

CLICK HERE  for the church’s stance on homosexuality. I agree with this statement completely.

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

In Sister Russon's Book of Mormon Institute class we've talked about how memebers of the church are expected to have visions and dreams from God. We talked about if we try to understand our dreams, God will use them to teach us and communicate with us. So, when I remember my dreams, I ask myself, "What is God trying to tell me?" I think I need a little help with my dream from last night.

I was back in High School. Something happened to our quarter back, and I was recruited to take his place in our next big game. I changed into my pads, red jersey, and cheerleading skirt in the girl's locker room and tried to find where all the rest of my team was, since they were changing in the boys locker room and going through the tunnel to the playing field. While I was walking, I started listening to the announcer's comments over the loud speaker. He changed my name to make fun of me (I don't remember to what now), and I turned and gave him a dirty look. He was on the other side of the field at the very top of the bleachers, which was pretty far, but he waved at me and winked with a condescending look. I decided to ignore him and found my team.

The announcer was introducing all the players from the other team while my team looked on from the bleachers. I was sitting next to a fan from the other team. I knew she supported the other team because she was wearing blue. I turned to look at her. She was Denice from The Cosby Show, only younger and thinner. But in my dream she was my friend and not Denise from The Cosby Show. When I looked at her I remembered she had spent some time in the insane assylum and must have just gotten out. I took off my helmet, which had a shaded visor, and she recognized me, and we hugged.

Then I got a text on my phone, which woke me up and pulled me out of the dream. I'll never get to be a quarter back in a cheerleading skirt again.

I am now accepting translations before I consult Dreamdictionary.com.

Memo to the Recent RM From All the Single Ladies

My brother is coming home from his mission in Ecuador in 13 days! Needless to say, I’m excited. The only reason I’m not excited is that I have to move my stuff out of his corner of the basement, so I have to organize and move everything fifteen feet from where it is. And it’s dusty and there are spiders. But, other than that, I’m pretty excited. Anyway, I was at the Institute on Monday and I told Brother Coleman, the Institute Director, that Joseph would be home in 15 days (it was two days ago). Later I saw him taking two young ladies on the scenic tour of the institute to the missionary wall where Joseph’s picture is and telling them how great he is. I should have realized that he would do that, because he’s done that to me on a few occasions when other Elders were scheduled to come home. Later some girls who I’ve never talked to before asked me at FHE that night if I was excited my brother was coming home soon. I’m glad I was there to witness the Brother Coleman Tour because it made me realize I have to warn Jofis of what was about to happen to him when he comes home to a boy-crazy, low-testosterone, high-Estrogen, Singles Ward. I figured I would post my thoughts on my blog for future warners and warnees. Plus, I think it’s funny. The reason it’s funny is that it’s true. So, this is my warning, from a single lady to a return Elder. And other boys in general:

1. You can’t hide anything. Be honest with where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing, because we already know. We talk. We know you’re a return missionary, we know where you went, we know you completed your mission, and we know you don’t have a girlfriend. If no one knows, someone will facebook stalk you until we find out. Don’t tell us you took a two year break from school. We know that translates to mission.
2. We all plan on dating you. Every single one of us. The same boys have been in the ward for a while, and we’ve grown bored with them. They’re leftovers. You’re fresh meat.
3. The girls who come up and talk to you right away are insane and desperate. Be afraid. Run away from them. The girls who wait until you’re not doing anything to talk to you, like waiting for FHE to start or after church in the foyer, are the sane ones.
4. We check for garment lines. This applies to all boys, mostly the ones we don’t know if they served a mission or not. We want to make sure you’re not a preemie before we decide we like you. We do this by looking for a whiter part under your white shirt sleeve, or touching your leg around your knee. The leg one is more reliable, since the under-shirt could just be an under shirt. (I’ve never done this, but I’ve heard girls talk.)
5. We expect you to be awkward and look forward to breaking you in like a new pair of shoes by sitting close to you and inviting you to everything we’re planning, like dinners and group dates. We want you to get through this phase as soon as possible so you’ll date us sooner. And we figure you’ll date your friends, so sign us up.
6. Don’t expect the ward to be the same as it was when you left. Everyone is different. If you’re lucky you’ll know seven people, probably only five. All those other girls you liked before your mission are married, graduated, or transferred. Your friends are gone too.
7. We’ll like you until you start dating, then you’ll go out on a few dates and we won’t like you as much because you didn’t choose us.
8. The girls you do choose will think you’re planning on marrying them. This idea is encouraged by crazy friends, moms, and roommates. If you date more than one girl, prepare for drama. There will be war, girl style. A nuclear rumor war.
9. Make friends quickly with the other boys (or a reliable, non-insane girl, like a sister, cousin, friend’s girlfriend, sister’s roommate, etc.) so they can explain to you who is dating who, who to avoid, who’s cool, who’s a drama queen, and who’s a heartbreaker. Ask questions to your new friends about these crazy girls.
10. All girls who knew you before you left are secretly hoping you’re ‘the one.’
11. All girls who didn’t know you before you left are secretly hoping you’re ‘the one.’
12. Someone has told us how great you are, probably the institute director.
13. Your ego is about to shoot through the roof with all the attention you’re going to get. Arrogance makes you unattractive. Keep it under control.

If you have any other warnings for Joseph, feel free to comment. I haven’t decided if I’m going to tell him all these things yet either, I don’t want to scare him into a family ward. Maybe I’ll coach him as he goes along.

Relocating

Hello Blogger! And everyone else! I am moving my blog from Wordpress to Blogger. There are a few reasons, but mostly, I'm irritated with the little amount of options Wordpress offers. I was with my new friend Dominque when she was changing her blog "theme" on blogger, and she could make her blog so cute! I was envious. So, I'm relocating. But I like all my posts, so I'm moving them too, one by one.
One thing that I did like a lot about Wordpress was how easy it was to add a picture into a post. It was pretty much copy, paste, and I loved it! But other than that, I think I like Blogger better. I'm getting fish soon.

So, here is my game plan. I tried to export my wordpress blog, so I could upload it to this one, but it didn't work out. So, I'm "packing" all old posts and moving them here. Then, since I appreciate comments that have been made, I'll move those after that. I have already learned that you can change the date and time of your post, so I'll try to make those match with the original Wordpress posts as accurately as I can. Then I'll write a fun blog post that I hope will be funny. But for now, goodbye. I have to pack.

I just re-read this before I published it, and it's kinda random. Oh well, I have things to do now. I'm a busy woman. That's the first time I've been aware I called myself a woman. I usually choose girl, but let's face it, I'm too old to be a girl. So, I guess I should use woman. Again, random. Goodbye.

Ropes to the Rescue!

The other night there was a mouse stuck in my window well. It seems that my window well is an animal trap, it’s caught and killed a mouse, and a baby bull snake, and it’s captured many beetles, a frog and a particular mouse that has led me to write this post. The other one has caught beetles and a baby rattle snake. I don’t open the windows because I’m afraid of what might sneak in them. And I just learned something, the singing group known as the Beatles spells it differently than the bug beetles. Spell Check told me. Hmmm, thank you technology for teaching me something today.

Anyway, the window well is about five feet deep and is right next to my bed. Right now it contains the frog and several beetles, giant beetles with red on their backs, like a black widow, but fatter, not as deadly, but just as gross. The frogs name is Wilbur. He’s the only thing that’s been in the window well that I welcome and that I’ve named. My sister Lexi and I were thinking of names and both thought of Wilbur at the same time. So that’s his name, and he’s my friend. He likes to dig holes and bury himself. I’m not sure if he’s suicidal, bored, or hibernating. Maybe he’s just a weirdo. Maybe being in a window well has driven him mad. Maybe he doesn’t like the name Wilbur. Maybe I should have named him Jeremiah.

Anyways, this post is supposed to be about the mouse, not Wilbur. So one night there was a mouse in the window, the kind with the big feet and a long tail and that jumps a lot. He looks like he belongs in Australia, not in Colorado, and resembles a kangaroo without the pouch or pointy ears. He was pretty cute, but I didn’t like him. He kept jumping at my window and freaking me out every five minutes. Every time he jumped at the window I think he gave himself brain damage and I was hoping he would stop before he killed himself. He wasn’t stopping, and he was keeping me up with the sound of his little body and head hitting the window every five minutes. I decided he needed out of the window well. I watched him for a while while I decided on the best way to get him out without touching him or letting him into my house. He tried to climb out of the well in three different areas. First, he would try to climb the metal wall on the side opposite the window. Then he would run to the corner by the window and try to climb up that. Then he would run and jump to the window, balance on the ledge there, and try to jump through the invisible force field into the house. Then he would fall off the ledge and go back to Plan A. He did this several times. Needless to say, his attempts were fruitless.

I enlisted my brother and went outside to help fulfill my plan. Jason helped me lift the covering of the window well off and searched for a red strappy thing that we use to strap things onto our car, namely our Christmas tree every December. We found one that would be long enough and lowered it into the hole. I figured his ancestors have been climbing ropes for centuries. That’s how the plauge came to Europe, the mice and rats climbed the ropes onto the trade ships and migrated. If they could climb a rope onto a boat and not fall off and drown, he could most certainly climb the strap out of the window well. We don’t have a real rope, so I decided the strap would have to do. He was afraid at first of the strap and didn’t move for a while. Then he tried to get out again in the same ways before the rope was lowered.

I saw the strap move a couple of times, but he just landed on it when he fell off the window ledge. I watched him run to his three areas over and over again, thinking, “No, go to the strap. Use the strap, that’s why it’s there! You can do it, just climb the strap out!” He didn’t catch on. Then I decided the strap was probably too smooth and his fat hands couldn’t hold on to the smooth threads that wove together to make the strap. So I went back to the garage in search for something that would be tall enough to reach up and out of the well, that had a rough texture that he would be able to climb out. I couldn’t find anything, so I lowered the hose. It was a little bumpy, more so than the strap. I secured it so it wouldn’t fall in while he was climbing it with two giant rocks that definitely weighed more than him. And if this didn’t work, at least some water would drain out of the end of it so he could have a drink of water.

The mouse soon stopped jumping into the window, or I was just too tired to freak out every time, and I fell asleep. When I woke up the next morning, he was still in the hole, even though I had provided him two escape routes. So later that day, my mom put a ladder down the well and went in with shoes that covered her feet, jeans, and gloves to get him out. She was successful, and she got him out, he didn’t even try to resist or run away. She took him to where he would be safe-ish, away from the where the two outside cats like to chill.

Anyway, the point of all this is what I learned from it. While it was running around and jumping onto one of it’s three escape routes, I had provided one that would actually work. Both of my exits reached the top and would hold his weight while he climbed out. I’m not sure he could hold on to either material without sliding back down, but I’ve seen a mouse climb a brick wall, so I think he could have done it. For the purpose of the moral, let’s say my plan was perfect. All he had to do was realize it.

As I sat, watching him struggle, I realized that this is how God feels sometimes with me. God provides a way to do something, to get out, a way to obey Him, whatever. But like a stupid mouse, I run around trying my three things over and over. God watches me and says, “No, I’ve provided a way, you’re doing it wrong, that’s the wrong way!” and I still don’t get it.

1 Nephi 3:7 I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them.

He will always provide a way for us to obey Him, and just because I don’t see it, doesn’t mean it’s not there. Just because I don’t understand what He expects of me, doesn’t mean that He hasn’t prepared a way. And just because it’s not the way that I would do it doesn’t mean it’s wrong. Like the mouse, I have little eyes. He can see the whole picture. He is smarter than I am. He’s always right, His way is always better. It’s THE way and it’s the perfect way.

Now there is a big ugly bug flying around in the other window well, smashing himself into the window. I thing the Ugly Bug Ball must be happening and the ugly bugs are flocking towards the light emanating from my window. I think I should cancel their party by turning off my light, so this is all for tonight. Go away ugly bugs. Go to the other window well so Wilbur/Jeremiah can have something to eat!