Mario Party is bringing back my sanity

Dealing with 3 year old demands, his no to many things, and general resistance to discipline have really sent me packing. I have been searching for something to get his attention and persuade him to be kind, stop yelling and stopping hitting an kicking things. When discipline lasts for more than 3/4ths of the day you know something has definitely broken down. I don't like discipline and definitely not the kind that makes us all grumpy all day long.

So...... how to help Hyrum stay out of timeout. My first attempt at making Mario Party DS (his new birthday game) the prize for no timeouts failed miserably. There were not enough chances for success. This failed attempt went as follows. Mommy says, "Hyrum if you do not get anymore timeouts until _____ time of day then you can play some Mario Party DS." Hyrum was really excited and really wanted to play, so it was not the motivation that failed. It was the fact that he only had one chance to succeed. Within 15 minutes he was in timeout and had lost the opportunity to play the DS and was even more miserable about loosing the prize than being in timeout. But mommy doesn't lie, so there was no going back on the deal, and all the build up of the deal had deflated in 15 minutes, no more chance no more motivation.

I thought and prayed about it some more feeling that there had to be another way. I came up with a DS chart with 5 spaces for Xs. We drew a picture of the DS and I explained that every time he earned an X he would be closer to getting time on the DS with mommy. He has a chance every hour to get an X. If he doesn't go to timeout once in a whole hour then he gets to draw the X (plan B would be to shorten the time for each X if we could not achieve success). It took a few explanations of what he needed to do and what he would get for him to begin to understand and get excited about it.

So, our first afternoon (yesterday), I felt like was a success. Hyrum earned two Xs which means we had two beautiful hours without timeouts and we were all happier too. I am perfectly willing to start the hour time all over after a timeout has happened, there just needs to be an hour before the next one. I remind him if he is starting to act up what will happen if he gets a timeout and it helps him remember often why he is going to choose to listen or be kind to me. Today he earned two more Xs, therefore with any luck he will earn the other one tomorrow and we will play the Mario Party DS game together for 10 minutes. Having some hours without timeouts has been so wonderful to me and sanity and the spirit are returning to our home. I am so grateful for Heavenly Father's help.

Written by Joy

Fasting, Joy, and Gifts

This post has been moved to our new family blog.

Random Thoughts on Suffering

Today for part of church some of us debated the existence of trials and challenges. My mind turned to Brother Brigham, second president of the Church. For a man who is as firm and straightforward as he, he does seem to come down on both sides of the issue:

"As to trials, why bless your hearts,
the man or woman who enjoys
the spirit of our religion has no trials..."

"The people of the Most High God
must be tried. It is written that
they will be tried in all things..."

"We are now in a day of trial ..."

"If the Saints could realize things as they are
when they are called to pass through trials,
and to suffer what they call sacrifices,
they would acknowledge them to be
the greatest blessings that could be bestowed upon them."

These and many more excellent words of wisdom are here.

We did reach agreement at any rate that we pass through suffering. And one of the blessings of this suffering is the gaining of something called empathy. The example given was that when you break your foot, you learn to have empathy the next time you see someone with crutches.

I've been thinking about this empathy thing over the last few weeks. It seems that we, many of us humans anyway, do a good job convincing ourselves that we are so thoroughly unique and individual that no one has ever suffered or gone through what we do. Though prominent among teens, turning twenty does not remedy the opinion. We therefore only accept counsel or pity or acknowledge the suffering of someone who has suffered sufficiently similarly to us.

"No one knows my pain." Folks who have waited a long time to find their eternal companion (or to have a child or to graduate or to ...) discount the pain of those who had to wait less for those blessings. My sense of loneliness and not-belonging is greater than yours. My psychosis is bigger than yours. It's a perpetual game of Topper. Yet "charity suffereth long" and despite suffering a long time "envieth not and is not puffed up" - charity neither longs to exchange crosses nor is it proud because my cross is bigger than yours... charity doesn't compare crosses at all.

Even if trials are not universal, suffering is. We all suffer. Some more visibly, some more vocally, but all of us do. Why don't we a) accept others' suffering empathy or b) apply our suffering to others better?

J.K. Rowling had some wonderful things to say on the subject at Harvard's commencement 2008 (here's my summary, the original link is missing now). She started off, "I am not dull enough to suppose that because you are young, gifted and well-educated, you have never known hardship or heartbreak. Talent and intelligence never yet inoculated anyone against the caprice of the Fates." She then goes on to discuss why we need imagination: it's not just for bedtime stories of wizards, but "it is the power that enables us to empathize with humans whose experiences we have never shared."

So the question for the night as I get ready for bed, is: Is common suffering enough? Can we learn to accept another person's love and concern simply by virtue of their having suffered something else? Can we learn to empathize with others to say, "No, I don't know precisely what you are going through; but I know what it is to hurt, and I join you in that pain"? In short, to mourn with those that mourn and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, not just those who mourn the way we have mourned.

Hyrum vs. Chair

We mentioned a while back that we were reorganizing the house. We finally succeeded. We moved two bookcases into our bedroom (so now we can walk sideways everywhere!) and those have all the books. We moved my office out of his bedroom so the computer and my office chair are out here now. We bought a filing cabinet we have not yet filled efficiently that goes in Hyrum's room so we can store papers safely out of his reach and delineate a play area. After the first couple weeks teaching him to not touch the computer, it's working well out here. And he loves my chair:



One of the upshots of all this moving is that Hy can now run from one end of the house almost to the other (we still don't let him in our room). This also means his room is now safe for him to play in ... and be put in time out. He's gotten stronger so that holding/hugging him for time out doesn't work for Joy anymore, so now he goes to his room. The first time we did this, it was devastating. It is less bothersome to him now, and he's even learning for the first time to play quietly in his room before dinner so that he doesn't have to go crazy vying with the stove for Mama's attention. It's ... nice - makes for a more pleasant home for everyone.

The only downside is that it means Hyrum isn't in the main room, running to greet me when I come home. That was the best part!

Glad to be Alive

And here's one of the people to whom I owe that: Soviet Strategic Rocket Forces lieutenant colonel Stanislav Yevgrafovich Petrov. The full story is here with a hat-tip to economist Brad DeLong who got it from someone else I don't know from tnsgrl64.
To summarize, in 1983 Petrov was filling an extra shift for someone else who couldn't show up at work ... watching over the BIG RED BUTTON for the Soviets. The computer announced that the US had launched a nuclear missile at Moscow. That didn't make strategic sense to him: why only one? He guessed that it was a computer error and, despite protocls that told him to fire first and inform his superiors after, held off.

Then a second, third, fourth, and even a fifth missile showed up. Realizing that it could potentially be millions of Russian lives on the line and knowing it would definitely be millions of American lives if he gave the orders to fire, he held his ground as the rest of the officers present said he had to fire.

Seconds turned into minutes and it became clear that he was right. It turned out to be a computer error from some funky sunspots and satellites. He saved the world.

Bureaucracy being what it is, he was first praised and then censured for his actions. The above link claims he was forcably retired; Wiki indicates he always claimed otherwise. His story apparently broke in 1998 and a documentary is expected later this year.

From Wiki: "Petrov has said he does not regard himself as a hero for what he did that day. In an interview for the documentary film The Red Button and the Man Who Saved the World,^[5] Petrov says, "All that happened didn't matter to me — it was my job. I was simply doing my job, and I was the right person at the right time, that's all. My late wife for 10 years knew nothing about it. 'So what did you do?' she asked me. I did nothing.""

Wow. Another beautiful example of God putting the right person in the right place at the right time.

Life, Death, and Christmas

There has been a lot to think about this Christmas. I hope you'll forgive me for reciting the death toll for a moment before getting to the happier part, but in my more morbid moments it has seemed that Death has been delivering a great many telegrams this semester. If you'd rather skip all that, head on down to the dashed lines separating off Elder Wirthlin's testimony.

As you may remember, my good friend Evan Wade passed away earlier this semester. His death was quite sudden and unexpected. Timed as it was at the cusp of beginning so many wonderful things in life, it has made me feel particularly blessed to have been able to finish my own degree and be sealed to my wife. I commented to Joy the other day that I've been thinking of him regularly. I miss him, far more than I had expected.

Around Thanksgiving, Grammy had multiple strokes and the doctors also found there had been a heart attack at some point. This also was unexpected, and I find myself quite unprepared for the thought of Christmas without Grammy. In the last twenty years, that's been about the only time I've gotten to see her. Thankfully, Dad reports that Grammy is, to all appearances, fully recovered and doing miraculously well. But the realization of the fragility of mortality was hit home again. (This picture from the Ensign is of Grammy, though she doesn't actually need a wheelchair, then or now.)

A few weeks ago, Aunt Elizabeth died. I don't know that I ever met her or my great-uncle who is now left to mourn her loss. Uncle Calvin reported that she was "was released from the prison of her body" in hospice care after weeks of strokes and terrible pain. He is comforted that her death relieves her of the burden of that suffering, bringing her somewhere without the pain.

Last week our stake president succumbed to the battle he's fought with his cancer the last few years now. I didn't know Calvin Gehen well, but he had a powerful spirit with him at each stake meeting. He radiated peace and compassionate service, in part because you would sometimes never know how much he was suffering to be there. Being with him reminded me in many ways of the opportunities I've had to shake the hands of one of our apostles. Joy is hoping to sing in the choir at his funeral on Tuesday.

A couple weeks ago, Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin passed away. This was not particularly surprising since he was the oldest of the apostles. Though I've known a number of people who knew him (my friend Darrell married his granddaughter and my first mission companion was Elder Wirthlin's home teacher - which provided some interesting stories), I never had the privilege myself.

So today, since I'm sick and unable to attend church, I thought I would get around to watching Elder Wirthlin's funeral, which the Church has graciously put on their website. It was a beautiful service. (Other friends of Darrell will see him and his wife walking out of the funeral at 1:11:42-1:11:56. She's in a red sweater.) In my favorite talk that he ever gave, he told of the Savior's suffering in Gethsemane on Good Friday, reminding us that no matter how bleak the Fridays are that must inevitably come to all our lives, "Sunday will come." During the funeral service, I realized that he gave that talk just after his sweetheart had passed away, surely going through his own Friday. How important the testimony of resurrection morning is!

Among the words offered during the funeral, Pres. Boyd K. Packer shared with the family Elder Wirthlin's final testimony (it's about 30 minutes into the video), which he had spoken approximately the week before. Let me share a piece of it with you:
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From time to time if we are living worthily, the Spirit of God touches our hearts, and minds, and our lives, and improves us forever. The warm feeling penetrates our hearts, a silent, still small voice speaks to us, communicating through the burning of our bosom the knowledge given to us from God. It draws us closer to Him, sanctifying us and strengthening our desire to return to His presence. During such unforgettable moments, revelation comes to us and forever alters our view - sharpening our focus on what matters most. We sense more profoundly our eternal relationship with Him as the literal Father of our spirits. We also feel more acutely our complete dependence on the merciful atonement of His Son Jesus Christ.

I had such a revealing experience. It was Christmas time in Bavaria in the Alps in 1937. I have always loved Christmas. There is a special spirit about it. The chill of the winter air is the perfect counterpoint to the warmth that should fill our hearts as we contemplate the message of salvation found in the birth, resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ.

I experienced that warmth many years ago while serving as a missionary for the church, just prior to the outbreak of WWII. As you might expect, the possibility of armed conflict was very intense, but as Christmas approached, our thoughts were drawn to the Savior. We rejoiced in the privilege of serving Him during that sacred season in the famous city of Salzburg, Austria.

On Christmas Eve, Elder S and I visited the village of Oberdorf, nestled securely in the beautiful Bavarian Alps. It was a clear, crisp winter night. We walked under the canopy of stars across the smooth stillness of newfallen snow to a humble little church where a familiar melody beckoned us with a message of peace and hope. [Pictured is the church to which he refers.]

Inside, a choir was singing in German a carol that brought warmth to our hearts on that cold winter night. Though we were far from our homes and families, we were filled with our Heavenly Father's love and comforted by His Spirit, as we listened to the calming strains of Silent Night, Holy Night.

Perhaps it was like the night that more than a century earlier inspired the assistant pastor in that quaint village to write the words to one of the most beloved hymns in all of Christendom. [He then tells the story of how the words and music came about.] As we listened to the choir's harmony while standing in the very same church where the first rendition of the sacred song was sung, we were spiritually moved. We were filled with the true spirit of Christmas.
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He told of how the Holy Ghost touched him and his companion at that time. As they walked the 15 miles back to their home, they spoke of a strengthened resolve to do what is right, to find a wonderful person with whom to spend eternity as husband and wife, and to keep their lives in focus with the principle and teachings of the Savior. He closed by saying, "I pray that our hearts and home may resonate with His marvelous message of love and peace during the holiday season. Forever with the apostle John, I testify that God so loved the world that He gave His Only Begotten Son...."

I've been looking forward to this Christmas all year. It's the first time I get to play Joseph. I've been a shepherd many times; I'm far too young to be a wise man; I've even been a dumb ox sometimes; but I've always looked forward to being the dad. No, Joseph wasn't the father of Jesus, but he was the man with whom God entrusted His Son, as He has entrusted me with a precious delight named Hyrum.

After all, besides death, this year has brought life. Wonderful, sweet life that has filled and changed our hearts in marvelous, miraculous ways. We are not the only ones so blessed. My dear friend Marcy and her husband have a dear little Emma after years of praying; our dear friends the Petersons just welcomed their third little one into the world; my former home teaching companion and his wife just received their first blessing; and there are countless more Corbins and Daniels and Timothies and Janes and Millies and more.

Each year, their families and friends will celebrate their lives, putting on cone-shaped party hats and singing old songs off key and eating good food and giving presents to each other because they are so thankful that this precious child is still with us. Every year, we also celebrate with funny little red cone-shaped hats, singing old songs off key, eating good food, and giving presents to each other on society's best guess as to His birthday. For behold, a virgin conceived, and she bore a son, and she called His name Emmanuel: God with us. I am so thankful that we all get together as brother and sisters, friends, neighbors, and family to celebrate the birth and resurrection of our Savior as well, whose sacrifice and sacredness conquered death, inaugurated hope, and promised peace. God be praised for the matchless gift of His Son.

Gaining Weight

I haven't had the heart to write this post until now, since the emergencies with our baby appear to be over at present. It has been several days of real panic.

Sunday we found what we thought was blood in our babies diaper. Along with the fact that he just hadn't been eating enough to keep a bird alive this really was more than I could take and I wept much. We decided that we should give Hyrum a blessing and invited a neighbor, Michael, over to help Derrill give the priesthood blessing. We did receive some measure of comfort from the blessing. Derrill's mother suggested we call her brother Sherm who has worked in a Neo-natal unit and is a family practice doctor. When we called Sherm he said that the orange spots in his diaper where normal, called brick dust, and that they would go away (later we found out they are more normal for an infant that is dehydrated).

Sherm also talked to us about feeding our baby and suggested that we visit with a lactation consultant. He said that we needed to get 10 oz of milk into our baby a day. He also suggested that some things that would help me relax for trying to nurse and to use a warm cloth for 5 minutes before feedings. Additionally a good friend, Marcy suggested somethings that have been very helpful.

So armed with new advise, I was able to get Hyrum to nurse for 4 to 5 feedings before we saw the Pediatrician on Monday. I had been somewhat relieved by his starting to nurse. We set up a schedule and time for me to get done with feedings (so they wouldn't last 2 hours anymore).

Then we went to the Pediatrician and found out that Hyrum had lost at least 15% of his birth weight. A parent should be worried if the baby looses 10%. We discussed feeding options with the doctor and he suggested I see a lactation consultant also. I spoke to the lactation consultant on the phone and made an appointment to see her the next day.

PLAN: We would feed him mother milk from a syringe and pump 10 times a day, by Wednesday if he had not gained at least 2 oz then we would start to suppliment with formula, and if he hadn't gained any by Friday it would be the hospital and IV fluids for him. I was somewhat panicked and therefore fed him every two hours trying to get more than 10 feedings a day.

The visit with the lactation consultant went well and we rented a hospital type pump so that we could more efficiently extract mother's milk.

Wednesday we went in to see the doctor and happy day our baby had gained 7 oz in the two days that had past. I was so relieved! There is more to do, I still have the goal of breast feeding him, which is not happening at present. But I feel very happy with his health and that things are going in the right direction. Heavenly Father has been so good to us. I am so grateful for our sweet little one and have faith that things will continue to improve.

Baby Heroin

To briefly explain Joy's last couple posts: Hyrum does not like to feed. He has been a very hungry baby, and therefore a very unhappy baby when it's feeding time. VERY unhappy. Then one night, Joy came down with a solemn look on her face and asked if I had strong objections to giving him a pacifier. Well, no, I assume that all babies end up with one [though my mother tells me I didn't ever get one] and then you work on weaning them off that at a later time, but the peace it buys now is worth the deferred pain.

He LOVED it. He quieted down and baby-smiled at once.

When it fell out, I popped it back in because he started to cry. When he cried after having had it for only two minutes, I began to worry.

When it fell out the second time, I popped it back in and he put up one hand to keep it held in. I commented to Joy that I hadn't realized just how addictive binkies are. They're Baby Heroin! Joy of course already knew this and told me that was why she was so serious when she asked if I thought it was a good idea. Well.

When it fell out the third time, I stuck it in his hand and guided it into his mouth. He slapped both hands over it to hold it in. This being 2 in the morning, Joy and I doubled over laughing and I managed to get the picture before sleep overpowered him and it fell out again, without being noticed.


We were gratified in the next two days that he sometimes spat the bink out, and that he still liked our company and fingers even after discovering nirvana. The baby doc has since told us to ixnay the acifierpay to avoid ipplenay confusion [gotta watch the censors, who I hope don't mind mentioning heroin], and he hasn't minded.

We're really glad we did it because it strengthened his feeding reflex, and we feel it gave him some confidence. He has fed better since we gave it to him.

Sunrise

A little over ten years ago I was in the Missionary Training Center getting ready to go to the former East Germany. On one particular morning (6 am), I woke up groggy and stiff while my 'roommates' were dancing and shouting and carrying on. When I grumbled or something, they commented very smugly that I was clearly not "a morning person."

That didn't help.

I left to go collect myself. I went over to the stairwell that had a large window where I usually went to practice my singing (good echoes). It was still a dark purple morning and I began singing "I Need Thee Every Hour." As I finished, I saw one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen. Against the dark sky, a thin group of clouds suddenly lit up a brilliant rosy pink. Its brilliance overcame the fact that those aren't my usual colors. I stayed watching it for about 5 minutes until the effect faded away with the gradual lightening of the sky.

Then I started thinking about it. In the part of town I could see from our upper floor, no lights were on. Most everyone there was still asleep. There might have been only two or three other people in all the world who got to see that particular glorious shining, and I was one of them. It felt very much like the hand of God reaching out to tell me it's alright, to calm my soul, and help me find peace. Whenever I am reminded of Elder Bednar's talk on tender mercies, that's the first image that always comes to mind.

I've been thinking about that the last couple days. It's been a very difficult few months, and I've needed to reach out and rely more and more on God to reassure me in those things I cannot see or control. And on those days when I manage to reach out in faith without fear, the reassurances of the Spirit seem particularly beautiful. Like a beacon of hope against a darkened sky. They testify that the day will dawn and give me the strength to go on just a little bit farther. No matter how dark our Friday, Sunday will come.

True Story: Life and Love

I have been thinking about a dear friend this morning names Cheryl Lossie. She and I used to have many conversations about what made us happy and what life is all about. One of the things that we never seemed to agree on was the purpose of life and what the true meaning of love is.

This life has a reason! That reason and purpose begins and ends with Jesus Christ. Without him the words life and love would have no meaning. Since my name is Joy, I have often been approached by friends quoted scriptures that embody my name. "Adam fell that men might be, men are that they might have joy." That joy that ALL men, women and children are meant to have, live life in order to have comes through Jesus, who is the savior of the world.

We all came from God, our Heavenly Father. We began our existence with him. We learned all that there is to know about love with him and from him. His purpose is to help us learn to love and to have joy. He will not force us to be happy, nor will he force us to love (ourselves, each other, even him). When we lived with him before we came to this earth, our heavenly Father gave us choices. We were taught in heaven that we could go to earth.

Going to earth would be risky, because some of us would choose not to come back to live with heavenly Father. For there to be a choice God created a plan for our return. He would not force anyone to follow that plan (thus not forcing anyone to come back to live with him). That plan centers in Jesus Christ. Jesus also loved us so much that he was willing to sacrifice all of his earth time, not just some hours going to church or praying, but all of his time doing what our heavenly Father asked him to do.

Conversations that I have had with my sweet sister Cheryl that brought up the name of Jesus were confidently (by her) dismissed. She would tell me kindly that she believed that he was a great teacher, but nothing else. It weighs heavy on my mind, because I am not sure I was ever really able to explain to her how important his mission was. There is no other plan for us to return to live, life that is eternal, which is God's life or life with him, except through that immortal teacher, even Jesus Christ.

Jesus was a teacher, but he is so much more. He is our way back to the Father. Because he lived, loved, suffered, died and was resurrected, we can also live, love, suffer (life isn't easy), die and be resurrected someday. But we must take upon us His name and live what he taught and become through that living like him. Without Jesus, none of the other teachers of peace, love and unity would have any purpose or meaning. What peace are we striving for but God's peace?

So why is there hate, fear, and meanness in the world that could take away from our peace? It is because we all get to choose..... we must all choose will be have the life of peace that is offered by following the example the Savior, Jesus set for us and which other good people have exemplified (before and after the life of Christ) or not.

It is not easy to live a life following Jesus in a world where others may choose to create pain for their fellow brothers and sisters on earth. But when the end of this earth life has come and if we have learned to love and be loved, following in the steps of Jesus, relying on his power to change and save us, then we will be His because we gave ourselves to Him. If we are Christ's then we are God the Father's and will live with him in peace for ever. We must live for life, love, and peace but they are not to be found by agreeing (as some would consider peace on earth) with everyone they are to be found through the one who mastered them all even Jesus Christ and can teach us so to do.

I know these things are true. My heart yearns to share them with my dear Cheryl and with you.

Below is a video that explains in part through a story of how Jesus Christ makes up the difference for our sins. It is about 10 minutes if you want to view it. (explains some differences between justice and mercy)

If you happen to read this blog and would like to know more. You can find answers to questions about life, love and peace through the website mormon.org.