Ghosts of Grocery Lines Past

The event that I'm about to share happened a couple of months ago, but the lesson I learned from it has stuck with me ever since... and I hope it always does.

I was rushing, as usual. This is really the only time I ever go to Allen's, our neighborhood grocery store... when I don't need much and don't have time to drive to, and fight the crowds at, Smith's. So I don't have to tell you what my mind set was like. Get in, get out and just get it done.

I grabbed what I needed and got in line in the only open checkout stand. There were two people in front of me.

The lady who was currently checking out was a middle aged Hispanic lady with three kids. The guy behind her, and right in front of me, was a young guy with one item on the conveyor belt and earbuds in his ears.

Within thirty seconds of getting in line, an older gentleman walked up behind me and took his place in our slow moving parade.

My thoughts were elsewhere. I was thinking of things I had to do that day... Things I wanted to get done the next day... My calling... My family... And suddenly I realized that I had been standing there a fairly long time, and we hadn't moved at all. The 'natural man' in me immediately kicked in as I came to the realization that there must be some problem. I leaned to my left to see what the situation was.

The Hispanic lady at the register was digging through her wallet for her change. I was relieved to see that she was almost done with her transaction, and tried not to be too irritated that she was using up her spare change. After all, I have been known to dig out the exact number of pennies and dimes to not have to break a bigger bill.

I could hear the older man behind me getting anxious. I could hear his restless movements as he leaned to his left, just as I had, to size up the situation. I could hear his fingers begin to drum on the handle of the shopping cart. I could hear his impatient sighs.

The young guy in front of me was simply oblivious. He was obviously caught up in his own world, filled with his music, and his thoughts.

I was surprised when we still hadn't progressed a minute later. The cashier was speaking to the woman in Spanish. It's been nine years since I've taken a Spanish class, so I didn't understand much, but there appeared to be a problem. The customer turned to her kids, the oldest of which appeared to be about ten. I barely picked up, "Where are the bags?" Her son responded, "In the car." "Bring them to me."

I was puzzled. The cashier was looking over the receipt that was still connected to the register. Hmm... she must have overcharged her for something.

The guy in front of me was still somewhere in oblivion, and the man behind me was now raising the volume of his sighs of annoyance.

The dutiful son brought the bags back to his mom and she proceeded to dig through them. She finally found what she was looking for and pulled out one can of tuna fish. She handed it to the cashier, and asked her something in Spanish. The cashier looked at the can and then at the register and seemed to nod in agreement. Then the cashier turned to the register and began punching buttons.

Immediately, I understood what was going on. It was as if a light bulb went off and I couldn't believe how foolish I had been. This woman was not getting rid of spare change, she was paying for her groceries with every last penny she had.

And she didn't have enough.

"I'll pay for it!" The words erupted from me startling not only my fellow customers and the cashier, but also myself. "How much is it? I'll pay for it."

The cashier looked at me, "Sixty cents."

Sixty cents. That was it. She was short sixty cents. She didn't have another sixty cents to pay for all of the groceries she had collected for her family. And so she was returning the one can of tuna.

I handed the cashier the ten dollar bill I had in my hand.

"Are you sure?" she asked me.

"Yes. Of course. It's not a problem," I responded.

The cashier took my money and finished the transaction. The Hispanic lady was thanking me profusely in broken English. The young guy in front of me had taken one of his earphones out of his ear and was obviously confused as to what was going on, after finally rejoining the rest of us here on Earth. The old man behind me stopped his drumming, and his shifting, and his sighing.

For one moment in time we were all very connected. Five strangers intimately engaged in one blip on the radar of life.

The cashier handed me my change. The Hispanic lady thanked me again and then walked out with her children. And it was over. The moment had passed and life moved on.

I share this experience not to solicit praise, or laud my good deeds to the rest of the world. I share it because of a blunt realization I had that evening as I relayed the story, in tears, to Jeremy.

How often have I been each of the two people that surrounded me in that grocery line? How often has there been someone in need right in front of me, and I have been too consumed with my own life to notice? How often have I been impatient and angry towards someone whose situation I am not aware of?

I will tell you this... I am sure I have been both of those other versions of me far more times than I am proud of. But thankfully, I was the right version that day.

So this one time...

I was a TOTAL slacker again! And I haven't written a post since March! No bueno!

I'm going through a period of personal improvement, and this is definitely something I need, and want, to improve. I have actually been REALLY good at writing in a journal for the last twenty days CONSECUTIVELY! So... if I can do that... I should be able to keep up on this. Right?!?!

Luck O' The Irish

I would have to say that St. Patrick's Day is my third favorite holiday behind Halloween and Christmas. I know it seems strange, especially since I don't drink, but I just LOVE it! I have a lot of Irish blood in me, and my mom has always made St. Patty's day special. Growing up there was always decorations, cute shamrock and leprechaun jewelry, fun Irish t-shirts, corned beef and cabbage for dinner, Irish soda bread, some green-themed dessert, Van Morrison and the Chieftans playing in the background, and then, of course, an annual viewing of Finian's Rainbow! I remember the MOST homesick I ever got during my freshman year in college was on St. Patrick's Day. I suppose it's because nobody really celebrates the holiday the way we did... and not having any of the familiar traditions was heartbreaking.

This year we got to celebrate in my parents' new house! :) And... my baby brother was up here visiting from NAU for Spring Break! We haven't all been together for St. Patrick's Day in a VERY long time! AND... as an added bonus we got to introduce Ms. Julia to the classic Hancock St. Patty's day. It was wonderful!



Mom and Jer waiting for dinner to be ready!

Delicious Irish Soda bread... It would have been better without so many carroway seeds... but it was traditional!

I love this picture of me and my baby brother!

Jeremy had to do some reading for school... but he made himself comfortable!

We also got in some basketball... it is March Madness time after all!

Lani watching TV... she has to wear little socks in "Grandma & Grandpa's" new house so she doesn't scratch the floor!

Digging in to the yummy food! I'm sure it was inadvertent that Dad's holding the knife towards Jeremy! ;)

Brothers-in-law enjoying the grub!



It was a wonderful meal, and a wonderful evening spent with people I love! And... EVERYONE STAYED AWAKE FOR FINIAN'S RAINBOW!!!! It was a St. Patrick's Day miracle! :)

Slacker...

Oh my goodness...

It has been just about six months since I posted on my blog... Fail...Fail... Fail...

I've found that my feeling towards my blog are right along the same lines as my feelings towards journals... I KNOW I should be writing... I really WANT to write... I don't do it... I feel GUILTY... I get behind... I don't feel like I can write anything until after I catch up on everything I've missed... I get so overwhelmed I never write again. Does this cycle sound familiar to anyone else?!?!

So I've decided to break the cycle. Starting today I'm going to write about new things (as they come up) and slowly work backwards to catch up on all the old stuff. So my blog might seem a little backwards for a while, but eventually I'll catch up (note my unwavering faith in myself) and then I'll never get off track again! Okay... that's just unrealistic... but I'm gonna try SO hard not to! :)

Love At Home

I am blessed.


I am blessed to be a part of a family that expresses their love for one another both verbally and physically. I am blessed with two wonderful parents who not only show unconditional love to me, my husband and my brother, but also to each other. I am blessed with a temple marriage to my best friend and eternal companion. I am blessed with a little brother who will stand by me through thick and thin and who I look up to. I am blessed with aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents who are an important and invaluable part of my life. I am blessed to have married into a wonderful family who has welcomed me in from day one. I am blessed with friends who are simply chosen family.

I am so blessed.

My parents are the perfect example to me of a successful marriage. They are not perfect. In fact, they bicker and snap at each other fairly frequently. But that’s why I think they are perfect. Marriage is not always easy and it’s not always fun. It’s being able to work through the bickering and the snapping that truly shows the strength of a relationship.

As most of you know my parents are currently building a house. Anyone who has ever gone through the process of building a house (and we’re talking from the drawing board, to construction, and soon furnishing) knows it is not an easy process. Because Mom and Dad have been staying with us through much of this process, I have gotten a front row seat to “the show”. Let’s just say that there have been a few “tense moments”. Mom is very opinionated and… so is Dad. We’ve gone round and round about window heights, stair widths, bathroom layouts, adequate storage space, heating vent placements and where to put the trap door to the crawl space. There have been raised voices, sharp tones, and some careless retorts. It has been “entertaining” to say the least.

One night, after a particularly rough day on the job site I was blessed with a reminder about the solid foundation of my parent’s marriage. Jeremy and I had gone to bed, but I wasn’t asleep yet. The acoustics in the back hallway of our house carry any noise from the kitchen straight downstairs and into our bedroom. As I was falling asleep to the sound of my parent’s “house” chatter I heard my dad say to my mom, “I’m so glad that I’m going through this process with you. If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be building this house. I love you, Sharon.” My mom returned the sentiment and I fell asleep. What a blessing to have heard those simple feelings shared between two of the most important people in my life. The scriptures say that the wise man built his house upon a rock, and, although this wasn’t exactly what the scripture referred to, my parents built their relationship on the solid rock of their love for one another. When the rains have come tumbling down for them, their house has stood strong because of that amazing and firm foundation.

My parents set a precedence for me regarding what a marriage should look and feel like. It’s okay to have hard times, just always remember the rock you built upon and be sure to appreciate the small and simple things you do for one another. Two nights ago I was at school until 11:45pm working with my thesis chair on my thesis. I was supposed to be home at 7:00pm for dinner, but obviously that didn’t happen. I walked in the door a little after midnight tired, but even more hungry as I hadn’t eaten since 2:00pm. I walked downstairs to find Jeremy and Lani asleep on the couch. The thought of going upstairs and cooking something was daunting and unwelcoming, but what choice did I have. I walked into the kitchen to find dinner waiting for me on the stove and a bowl and spoon laid out for me on the dining room table. I broke down. This simple act of kindness from my husband was enough to move me to tears. I left the food on the stove and ran downstairs. I walked over to the couch and hugged Jeremy. He woke up and immediately asked, “Why are you crying?” When I told him, his response was, “It’s only dinner.” Well sometimes that’s all it takes. “Only dinner” can mean everything. As a side note, however, I found out later that it wasn’t only dinner, Jeremy had also given our dog a much need bath, teeth cleaning, ear cleaning and hair trim.

I’ve had this topic of love at home on my mind for over a week now. It has been a period of reflection and gratitude for me. I guess it’s fitting that I finally wrote these thoughts down on my dad’s birthday. Not that it needs to be reiterated, but he and my mom are ideal examples of love at home. Jeremy and I are not perfect, but we also haven’t had too much practice. Our relationship has come a long way in our short four and a half years of marriage, and I’m grateful for every triumph and every trial. I hope that we continue to perpetuate the love in our home so that someday one of our children can write a journal entry about a sweet, silent expression of love he or she hears one of us say to the other.

There truly is beauty all around.

I am so very blessed.

An Exercise in Humility...

I can remember that it seemed like EVERYONE took piano lessons when I was a kid. And, almost always, they HATED it. Hated everything about it... lessons, practice, recitals. I suppose to a child there are a million better things to do than sit in front of a big wooden box and pluck out melodies on black & white keys. Well... I've said it before, and I'll say it again, I wish my parents had forced me to take piano when I was younger. If they had, I wouldn't be writing this post.

I love music. There are feelings and emotions that can only be conveyed through music... sometimes mere words just don't hack it. I always have music on... the radio/CDs/iPod while driving in the car, iPod while working out, iTunes on my laptop while cooking/cleaning, XM Radio through my TV while getting ready for work in the morning. Music is an addiction for me. I also love to sing. I'm no Celine Dion but I do just fine. :) All of this being said, I've always wanted to be able to play the piano.

I've been dancing hula with some friends for over a year now and just a couple of months ago one of my friends, Sheila, brought one of her close friends, Amy, to check it out. Amy was instantly hooked and now comes regularly. Two weeks ago, after practice, she was discussing piano lessons with Sheila. Come to find out... she teaches piano as a small side job. I immediately told her about my dream to learn piano and she told me she had an opening on Mondays. Right now, time isn't as much an issue for me as money is so I jokingly said, "So... I'll teach you hula and you'll teach me piano?" AND SHE SAID IT WAS A DEAL!

So yesterday was the first lesson of the season. Every first Monday of the month is a group lesson. It was great. There I was with two 5 year olds, two 6 year olds, two 9 year olds, and two 12 year olds. Each month Amy spotlights a different composer during our group lesson. Yesterday we learned all about George Handel and his music. It was fun and informative! Then we set goals for the semester (til December). I'm supposed to get to pg. 21 in my lesson book and (this may be a stretch) I'm hoping to be able to play either "Away in a Manger" or "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" by Christmas.

Finally, we picked out songs for our Halloween recital... That's right... In two months I will get up in front of a bunch of people (predominantly the parents of the other students) and play a song. Amy picked out mine first. She said it would be good because I don't have to have mastered sight reading in order to play it. It's called "The Haunted Clock" and it is embarrassingly easy. To add insult to injury, she assigned the two 5 year olds more difficult songs. Awesome... Oh well, you have to start somewhere... and apparently in this case, it's the bottom! :)

Although I'm not thrilled about being shown up by "little people"/my fellow classmates, I am SO excited about learning to play. Hopefully, I'll take to the piano like a duck to water and blow everyone else out of the water with my inspiring interpretation of "THE HAUNTED CLOCK"... A girl can dream, can't she?

The Unexpected

It's always so much fun when you think everything is going to be fine on any given day and then BOOM life hits you right between the eyes. Awesomeness. Jeremy and I walked outside this morning to go to work and found part of our front yard completely under water. Not knowing what the problem was Jeremy immediately turned off our water at the street. I must admit it was pretty cool watching the puddles and mini-lakes instantly start to recede. After twenty minutes of scooping water out of the sprinkler and water turn-off  holes, and another ten minutes of soaking up the rest of the water with a sponge, we turned the water back on and found our problem. A previous tiny little crack in our sprinkler manifold had now become a huge crack in our sprinkler manifold.

This made me think about all of the little cracks that sometimes work their way into our lives. A small problem here, a minor issue there... but if you don't take care of them immediately you could end up with a flood. In this case Jeremy did try to fix it but his temporary plastic cement just couldn't stand up to the immense pressure of the water flowing through the pipe. Sometimes a bandaid just doesn't hack it... or the repair can only last so long. So... moral of the story... in sprinkler systems and in life, nip your problems in the bud. If not you'll end up ankle deep in water and muck.