New Leaf

Last week, I randomly checked my Sitemeter because I wanted to see how low my readership can go. Apparently, I'm barely a presence in Blogdom lately. Maybe you've noticed?

Anyway, I am in turns amused, creeped out, stumped at the Google searches that land random strangers on this blog. But last week, I was . . . I can't even describe it. Haunted. By this search:

"what is the thing that makes a person happy in this life"

Oh, my goodness. I can scarcely begin to imagine what makes a sad soul look for this on the internet. If you're still out there, if you're still searching, you'll end up here now. Please keep searching --  you will find what you're looking for. Try lds.org. I find great solace in a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. His atoning sacrifice gives me hope when all else seems to crumble. Your shoulders may not be broad enough to bear your burdens, but His are.

So. I've been thinking about this little question for a solid week. It has been foremost in my thoughts as I have cleaned up the mess left after the holidays, felt the strain of my body trying desperately to recalibrate "normal" hormone levels and emotional baselines, and dealt with the stress of energetic and rambunctious little boys home from school and confined to the indoors by crazy amounts of snow, wind and a biting, humid, Arctic-worthy and uncharacteristic deep freeze from which I'm worried we may never thaw.

I have felt like a train with one wheel off the track, like my spiritual download was interrupted in transit, like patchwork seams that don't quite line up, like someone half-way erased all my clean lines and hard edges. And I have wondered, really, what is that thing? What makes us happy in this life?

There are so many answers. I know all of them. I have studied them in every Sunday meeting, seminary class, and personal session of scripture reading since I was old enough to comprehend it. My holiday season this year was a contemplative one, as I tried to figure out how, exactly, those answers are supposed to be able to help me bear the weight of this role -- the role that I have chosen to fulfill, the role that I truly and wholly love, but struggle to do well.

Today, we blessed our beautiful baby girl -- our Miscellany. She was held in the circle by her wonderful Daddy, two grandfathers, 5 uncles, and even a great-uncle. Her 10 little boy cousins (and Lucy!) watched as her name became official in church records and listened as she was given a lovely and inspired blessing. After church, the entire group of 27 gathered back at our house for a whole lot of togetherness and delicious soup. It was a choice day: laughing and eating, eating some more, a lot of gratitude, and some more eating. We know how to have a good time in this family, that is for sure, and it always -- ALWAYS -- involves food.

So, one tender mercy was followed by another, and I have slowly, slowly begun to emerge from my funk. I hear my husband make idiotic noises and faces on the off-chance that this time, she will laugh. (She just did!) I hear Lucy, my sister's little girl, call Miscellany her sister. I watch my little rough-and-tumble brood of boys pretend to have a sleepover in the upper tented bunk of MayDay's new big boy bed. I hug a mother-in-law we worried over as she underwent a dual kidney-pancreas transplant. I spend the evening playing cards with my mom and my sister and bask in that great feeling of being completely comfortable in your own skin, unapologetically yourself. I feel the strength of my husband's humble embrace as he tries desperately to hug me through the hardest parts. I feel needed, loved, supported, held up, gently -- or not so gently -- reminded that I am not just part of something bigger than myself, but essential to it. They always work -- those little moments. They always -- eventually -- give me the kick in the pants I need to stop dwelling on the bad stuff that happens in between all the good.

That's my new leaf, friends. I will not get stuck in a rough patch and refuse to remember the happy times that may have happened even 15 minutes before. The irony? Guess where you land if you Google "what is the thing that makes a person happy in this life"? It links you to the YouTube video I posted of U2's acoustic version of "Stuck in a Moment", and as much as I love the song, I didn't really listen to it until now:

You've got to get yourself together
You've got stuck in a moment
And you can't get out of it
Don't say that later will be better
Now you're stuck in a moment
And you can't get out of it

And if the night runs over
And if the day won't last
And if your way should falter
Along this stony pass

It's just a moment
This time will pass

This year, and in all future years, I will not dwell. The end.

And so it begins

Okay, I wrote about my booty nightmare in this post. And now I'm doing something about it.

We arrived home from Florida on Saturday and though we're not fully recovered (or even at all) it's time to get going on those resolutions.

I have a new sidebar. In it, I plan to keep track of miles run, calories burned and weight lost. I have to be accountable somehow and apparently answering to myself is just not enough of an incentive.

So, here I go. Watch the sidebar to see if it really works!

Another nightmare, even worse than the last one

I have a recurring nightmare.

Have you ever really paid attention to the stock footage used in news stories? Take note next time you're watching some 20/20 expose on the rampant obesity present in our country right now, or on the prevalence on high cholesterol in ever-younger patients, or any number of other topics. Invariably, at some point in the montage, you will see a booty zoom.

Do you know what I'm talking about? I would hate to be the poor camera man whose job it is to go to a crowded place and zoom in on the butts (not the faces, mind you) of the fattest people around.

Some of this footage is dated by the booty-licious fashion statements. Some is more broad in its applicability. But all of it is horrifying.

I generally have a good attitude about my body image and how I look in general: I just don't care that much what other people think about me. I like to look cute, but mostly because I don't want to worry about turning to stone every time I look in the mirror.

For some reason, though, I live in mortal fear that one day, I will watch that expose on 20/20. I will see the booty zoom. And I will recognize the butt.

Can you imagine that moment of clarity? Wow, good thing I'm not as fat as those people . . . oh, that looks like someplace I've been before . . . and I have a shirt just like that . . . OMIGOSH! I AM those people! That's my butt on tv!

That's why my number one resolution for 2009 is to get running -- faster, longer, farther, better. Is a marathon in my future? I think not. Half-marathon may even be a stretch. But 10k? A definite possibility.

Now I'm accountable, and do not be mistaken -- I will report. I will work harder because I know someone (hopefully?) is watching.

I will start as soon as I finish my brownie sundae.

And after we get home from DisneyWorld, of course, because I just can't give up that french toast loaf.

(Did I mention we're at Disney this week? Robbers, don't steal anything! And believe me, there will be one mother of a post as soon as I've recovered. I have made some life-altering observations about The Happiest Place on Earth. Well, maybe not life-altering, but it sure sounded good.)