Circle of Life

I come from a large family.  Both my parents come from large families.  I'm the youngest of 6 girls.  My dad is the 5th of 9 children.  My mom is the eldest of 8.  That means I have a lot of cousins. I mean A LOT.  I think my dad and I counted once and putting both my mom's and dad's sides together, I have somewhere around 70 cousins.   Yep.  I know.  It's crazy.  What can I say?  Mormons usually seem to have lots of kids.  Fertility is commonly genetic.  There you have it.

Where am I going with this?  Because of the nature of being part a 2 extremely large families, I've been to a lot of funerals over the years.  My Grandfather Waddell passed away when I was in 6th grade- the first grandparent I lost.  I've been to funerals for uncles, aunts, grandparents, friends, etc.  So far this year, I've attended 4 funerals.  2 were for uncles who lived full and abundant lives into old age.  2 were for young fathers who each left a wife and small children behind.  The latter 2 I mentioned have awaken a fear that's been my worst ever since my husband and I devoted ourselves to each other when we got married; what if he dies while our children are still at home and I'm left to be a single mom?  It's really hard not to let that eat at me, let my imagination run wild, and be crippled by fear.  Maybe it sounds ridiculous.  I can be pretty ridiculous at times.  But oh well.

Death is hard for those left behind.  It's so, well, final.  I have no idea what it's like for those who have passed on.  No one has come back to enlighten me.  My own father has been gone from this life over 11 years now.  Is he gone?  No.  I feel him close quite often and know he's watching over me, my sisters, and my mom his sweetheart.

So what about those funerals?  My Uncle LeMoyne was rough around the edges in his youth and over time he changed.  He learned temperance, love, forgiveness.  He was a highly-decorated Vietnam veteran.  My Uncle Fred was what some might call eccentric, but he owned it.  He was a fantastic musician, loved trinkets, and was big in to adventures.  The husband of Tyler's cousin lit up all around him, was always helping someone, and loved his wife and children like no other.  Tyler's high school friend was naturally happy, made his business (literally) to help others change for the better, and was determined to make the world a better place.  Since none of us know when our time is up, all of this got me thinking: what are people going to say at my funeral (not that I'm planning on expiring any time soon)?  Do I love as much as I'm capable of?  Am I changing for the better- at least most of the time?  Do I make it a priority to do what I love and do it often?  Do I invite happiness in others?  Am I service-oriented?

The one theme I noticed was each man knew what mattered and lived accordingly. Each man also was true to himself and let his individuality shine.  The thing I love the most about this is that their priorities were the same: faith and family.  I remember reading where C. S. Lewis talked about how Christianity makes a person more their true self.  He compared it to salt.  With salt broccoli tastes more like broccoli, a potato more like a potato, roast beef more like roast beef (yummers).  And so it is with us.  When we put Christ at the center of our lives we slowly become more of our true selves.  I know, sounds a little contradictory, right?  Well, the 4 men whose funerals I attended prove otherwise.  Besides, I've witnessed it in countless other cases.  I see it in myself, friends, family.

Self is probably the most elusive of said cases.  Sometimes it's hard to feel original and important in a sea of billions of people on the earth.  It becomes easy to wonder: does my life matter, can I really make a difference?

A million years ago I saw a little video clip of Steven R. Covey talking about priorities.  He had a rather large jar (probably about 2 gallons), a bunch of rocks, pebbles, small stones, and sand.  He claimed it all fit in said jar.  It looked a little sketchy.  I think he asked the audience what he should put in first.  I don't recall the order specifically, but I think the sand was put in first, followed by the other geological items.  They didn't fit.  Then he did his magic, but order mattered.  The largest rocks had to be put in first, followed by the small stones, then pebbles, and then the sand filled in the nooks and crannies (kinda like ice cream after a large meal).  He then compared the jar to the amount of time we have and the rocks, stones, and sand to thing we do.  If we don't put the largest ones in first, the rest won't fit.  It's the same with priorities.  We have to put 1st things 1st.  Sounds pretty rudimentary, right?  Well, I've tried to put the sand in my jar first countless times and of course it always fails.  I keep thinking "This time will be different."  Um, anyone recalling the definition of insanity?  Yep, that's right.

What are those bigger rocks?  I think they're things like faith, family, and personal care.  I'm sure some of them are a little more individual than that.  The fun part: the smaller stuff is where our personalities can really shine. They are different colors, shapes, designs.  Each jar can be like those super cool colorful sand jars, but with different sized  and colored rocks, jewels, stones, etc.  The trick is that if those 1st things aren't put in 1st, the rest doesn't all fit.  The fullness of our true selves doesn't get to shine.

The struggle I have is with the monotony of the larger rocks.  I know they're crucial, but they're not always very fun.  I don't always have an awakening when I read my scriptures.  Every prayer doesn't result in a life-changing revelation.  Getting my boys breakfast, dinner, doing laundry, getting them to school and such are especially monotonous.   Nor are Tyler and I aren't madly in love with each other every second.  So why bother?  Well, when it comes to laundry I keep asking Tyler when we're moving to a nudist colony, but he hasn't found one for us yet.  Still waiting on that, I guess.

I wish knew all of why these larger rocks can be so boring and tedious.  Perhaps that's a question for my Maker (my 2 big ones for when we meet are 1. Why are some people fertile and others aren't, and 2. What's up with entropy- why?).  Like most moms I want my Alice (think "The Brady Bunch") but I don't want to pay for her, not to mention the fact that she's not real.  I get tired of cleaning up dinner bombs in the kitchen- especially when it comes to the wake of the toddler in the house, rushing to be on time for church, finding time for pondering on the Word, making lunches, meal planning, and so on.  I could go on for pages, but I'll refrain.

Right now I think I'll go swim some laps.  It's Saturday morning and since I can't be out on a long run, I'll go swim back and forth in some water and chemicals.  That's close to the same thing, right?  Perhaps another day I'll touch on the mental anguish that is my running injury.  Let's just say I'm at least moving in the right direction, but painstakingly slow.  Patience and I aren't really friends.  It makes things a little difficult.  For now, I'll go get wet and enjoy the Thomas the Tank Engine that my Benjamin has transformed into.  Costumes are amazing like that.