Through Another Person

TJ and I have been trying this crazy new thing called budgeting.  It's really hard.  And sometimes it feels like we should just continue to ignore our finances and hope for the best--because we seem to have less money now that we're paying attention to it.  And two weeks ago today we addressed the issue in prayer, asking for help in making ends meet.

That very night I saw a neighbor post on Facebook that her mom was giving away her oven, and I jumped.  Our stove had lost two burners in the past six months, and the oven element had finally given way as well.  Although TJ fixes everything himself, even paying for the parts was going to be expensive.  So Anna Field gave us her glass top stove for free and our problem was solved.  

Also, I've always wanted a glass top stove.  So...clean!!!

Spencer W. Kimball said,

 “God does notice us, and he watches over us. But it is usually through another person that he meets our needs. Therefore, it is vital that we serve each other in the kingdom."

Thanks to Sister Field and my two strong men, I now have a beautiful, fully functional stove.  

And our bank account is still (relatively) healthy.  

And this is what we found underneath the oven when we moved it.  Yikes!

Be Careful What You Pray For

So here's the story.  TJ and I have been in a community choir for the last two years, and it's been a lot of fun.  It just wasn't challenging enough, though, and since we've always batted around the idea of starting our own ensemble, we thought maybe the timing was right to do it. But TJ's over-committed and I'm under-qualified to lead a chamber choir.  So I started bugging my friend Rachel, who gave me voice lessons last summer, to head something up.  She is already balancing a career teaching at DSU with her busy and adorable four children, though, so as much as she liked the idea, it really looked impossible.

I spent all winter praying that we could find a way to make it happen.

And then, we did!  Rachel's dad approached Dr. Paul Wiens, a recently retired professor from Wheaton Conservatory in Illinois.  He liked the idea and agreed to have a trial run.  I could have danced a happy dance when I heard this news.

So we rounded up five or six singers per part, bought the music he wanted to try, and started practicing.  We had four very demanding, two-hour rehearsals with Dr. Wiens, and at the end he agreed to go forward.  My chamber choir is born.

Did I mention the rehearsals were demanding?  Dr. Wiens is like a master sculptor and he must find working with me just like using Play-Doh.  I practiced at least six hours a week and still seemed to come up short every single time.  Being called on the carpet in front of my peers is pretty much the worst thing ever.

It's just too funny.  In my pride and self-satisfaction I told the Lord that I needed something better than the choir I was in.  And He gave me a better one.  One so much better that I'm really not good enough for it.  Honestly, I think He must be laughing a little bit.

Humbled?  Oh yes.  But this is my dream come true, and I have no intention of letting it slip through my fingers.  This summer I'll be practicing music theory so that I can make the audition into the choir that I helped put together.

And I'll be praying, too.

Miracle of the Week

This morning, Mom and I drove out to LaVerkin to help Grandma with some housework ahead of Grandpa's arrival back home on Friday.  He had open heart surgery last week, and has beat everyone's expectations of how fast he could heal and come home.

When I think of Grandpa's sternum being sawed open so surgeons could fix life-threatening problems in his heart, I am scared all over again.  I can't believe how lucky we are to have him still a part of our lives.  Grandma, too, has had some serious health problems this year, and every time I see them I know deep down that my days with them are numbered.  So that makes every visit meaningful.

We were only able to spend two hours helping, but many hands make light work.  Lawson mowed. Eliza vacuumed and did cobwebs.  Naomi did mirrors and windows.  Mom and I did bathrooms, dusting, the kitchen floor, and beds.  While we worked, Mom told me a story which she titled "The Miracle of the Week," involving a lost Social Security card belonging to my prospective missionary brother.  It was found after five days of praying and worrying, blowing around the doctors' office parking lot.  I was struck less by the story than I was with my mom's attitude about it.  She has so many miracles that she needs to rate them, or number them, or have a miracle of the week.  This is how my conversations with her often go.  She always has evidence of God's love for her right on hand.

Going to LaVerkin is always food for my soul.  Grandma has never said so to me, but I am sure  I've always been her favorite grandchild.  She, Grandpa, and Uncle Harley always treat me like visiting royalty when I come out, and I never leave without armloads of fresh produce, hand-me-down household stuff, and whatever else they sense I need.

So many miracles in my life.  And since Grandpa's life-sparing operation was technically last week's mercy, this week I'm going to just say, my family is my miracle.  That they love me as much as they seem to.  That we have this life together.