Have you received His image in your countenance?

I have so many thoughts right now... so many things running through my mind. Among them is a sense of frustration at the number of people who want to cast blame on all whites for the existence of racism. My heart hurts right now. It hurts for what happened to George Floyd. It hurts for the many other cases I may never have heard of. And it hurts for this country and for the rioting that is destroying property and threatening additional lives.

As I've thought about this, and as I glanced at this week's Come, Follow Me reading, I realized how timely these scriptures are once again to what is happening. One of the big problems right now is that everyone is casting blame. I can't even say I'm sad or frustrated with events without being labeled a racist and part of the problem. So I as I looked at the Primary manual, found the coloring page for today's FHE lesson, and thought about the scripture, I realized just how relevant and timely this lesson is.





"And now behold, I ask of you, my brethren of the church, have ye spiritually been born of God? Have ye received his image in your countenances? Have ye experienced this mighty change in your hearts? Do ye exercise faith in the redemption of him who created you? Do you look forward with an eye of faith, and view this mortal body raised in immortality, and this corruption raised in incorruption, to stand before God to be judged according to the deeds which have been done in the mortal body? I say unto you, can you imagine to yourselves that ye hear the voice of the Lord, saying unto you, in that day: Come unto me ye blessed, for behold, your works have been the works of righteousness upon the face of the earth?" (Book of Mormon, Alma 5:14-16)

I explained to George and Liam that in chapter 5 of Alma, Alma asks the people a lot of questions that were intended to help them (and us!) become better people. We focused on the question "Have ye received His [Jesus Christ's] image in your countenances?" I explained that "image" is like "picture" and that "countenance" means face. So Alma was asking the people, in essence, "When someone looks at you, can they see Jesus? Or can they see your happiness and want to know Jesus because of you?"

Instead of pointing fingers, we all (and I include myself) need to make time for self-reflection. How do I answer these questions at this time? How do you answer them? (I don't expect you to tell me, anymore than I will answer those for you here; these are very personal, and my answers are between me and my Savior, Whose image I hope I receive in my countenance.) One thing I know: I want to hear the voice of the Lord saying, "Come unto me ye blessed...."

So, when I'm accused of racism simply because I don't understand what others have suffered... I can't help but think that, while I don't fully understand, there is One Who does.

"And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people. And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death which bind his people; and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities. Now the Spirit knoweth all things; nevertheless the Son of God suffereth according to the flesh that he might take upon him the sins of his people, that he might blot out their transgressions according to the power of his deliverance; and now behold, this is the testimony which is in me." (Book of Mormon, Alma 7:11-13)

Jesus Christ has literally suffered all things in order to redeem us. He knows our every pain and sickness and trial. When it seems that no one else understands, He does. He knows. And though we may not receive just recompense in this life, we will receive it. His mercy and love are extended to all. The degree to which we receive them depends on our acceptance.

I could even add that I have experienced (and still experience) significant prejudice. Not from most people, no, but there are many ignorant people out there. Does it compare to the racism many blacks in our country deal with? Probably not. But I'll add further that when I am in tune with the Holy Ghost, I have the ability to "mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort." (Book of Mormon, Mosiah 18:9) I have had the blessing of understanding through more than one experience that mourning with those that mourn does not mean feeling bad/sorry for them. It means actually experiencing their sorrow with them. The Holy Ghost can teach and guide me and help me to become more like Jesus Christ, including helping me to mourn with those that mourn. The heartache I feel right now is not just for me. It is for so many who are suffering, regardless of race or any other difference we may have.

This isn't about me. This is about recognizing that we are all children of God. This is about coming to love each other as Christ loves us... with a perfect love. In this moment, I know that Jesus Christ is aware of me and of my concerns and doubts and fears, of any pain and frustration I may be feeling. I know that He is also aware of the same for all of God's children throughout the world. He lives. He loves us. He is the Prince of Peace. It is only through Him that we can find peace. And I am grateful that even in a world of turmoil, I can find peace in my home and in my heart as I place my trust in my Savior. I pray that others my see His image reflected in my countenance, that I can live worthily to be able to share the light and love of the gospel and of my Savior. I love Him, and I am so grateful for His atoning sacrifice on my behalf. Through Him, I continue to find light and peace.

Liam's birth story

I haven't really blogged since starting a family. But since I told George's birth story, let's go for Liam's, as well.

It was another very uneventful pregnancy. We did adjust the "due date" early on after two early ultrasounds that showed him as measuring 6-7 days ahead of our guess on dates. There's so little size variation that early that it just made sense. So instead of guessing March 20, we were guessing March 14. (It was probably about January that we scheduled the date of the C-section for March 5.)

We didn't settle on a name for Liam until the day he was born, though we did discuss a few. Throughout the pregnancy, he was just "baby brother," though Josh was regularly referring to him as "Erik." (I don't object to the name; I just wasn't sure yet.) We got George a doll for Christmas to help him prepare a little. While it's never been his favorite toy, he does love his doll.

Liam's movements during the pregnancy were very different from George's. He was a squirmer rather than a kicker, and sometimes that resulted in nausea for me. He was also far more likely to waken me during the night. But even though I definitely dealt with more nausea and stronger gag reflex as a whole than I did with George, I still didn't really have "morning sickness." Also, he was in a transverse lie position throughout the pregnancy (I could always tell that his head was toward my right side), which made it far more comfortable for me to continue functioning, including walking and interacting with George. On the other hand, it means that delivery probably would have been by C-section regardless of who the woman was.

I didn't make it in for blood work the day before this time. The doctor suggested that there would be plenty of time the morning of, so that's what we planned on. Unfortunately, they did not call a phlebotomist to draw blood or let anesthesia place the IV. The nurse struggled, and I definitely ended up with a bruised arm this time. Ugh!!! Also, I think I did have an occasional contraction in the weeks before he was born, but I was definitely having contractions that morning as they were prepping me for surgery. He probably wouldn't have stayed put any longer.

The discussions with anesthesia were more interesting this time--or at least we were more informed. They had their notes from last time, and they could see the tiny scar where the needle had gone in. What we learned, though, is that they actually went in from the side, at an angle. (Because my spine is fused and there's a lot of calcification, they had to find just the right spot for a spinal block.) This time, I feel like they got in much more quickly, even though I'm pretty sure it took just as long for me to get numb afterward.

Overall, I felt like the surgery itself was more uncomfortable than with George. I got through, though. I was once again pleased (as was Josh) to hear a good, strong cry from my baby. From the beginning, his cry was different from George's. He has always been a very particular baby and wants things to be done his way. And while he is generally very happy, he'll definitely let you know if things aren't going his way.

As with George, it was very helpful to me to have Josh holding Liam beside me as they finished putting me back together. It gave me something else to focus on, as I spoke gently to my baby and stroked his head. Josh and I had discussed names a little more about a week or so before he was born, and I told him that I still wasn't sure on a first name. By then, I had decided that I wanted "Werner" as his middle name, but I wasn't sure whether I wanted Erik or Liam. I needed to see him first. I think we were in the recovery room before Josh said to me, "It's Liam, isn't it?" (For background, Werner is my maternal grandfather. He really loves knowing that Liam is named for him! And I didn't want to use the name "William," because I don't care much for "Will" and even less for "Bill." But my maternal grandmother's line has many William's, including her grandfather, as well as her uncle Billy, who is the one who loaned her the money to come to the U.S. Using "Liam" was to honor her, as well.) Yes, he is definitely Liam.

As they transferred me to the bed to wheel me to the recovery room, I could see Liam rooting already as Josh was holding him. Once I was settled, I was able to hold him, as they wheeled me into recovery. Once there, the nurse suggested just doing skin to skin, since babies will often latch on to nurse naturally.  A moment later she turned around and commented, "Whoa!" He was born knowing what to do and was a great nurser. Our only trouble, really, was when my milk came in and his mouth was just too small.

I made it clear this time that I didn't want any oral narcotics at all--only the ibuprofen and Tylenol, alternated. And to be honest, I feel like my recovery was significantly easier this time around. I actually was not very consistent with pain meds after coming home; after George was born, we could keep things within my reach. After Liam was born, that wasn't an option, because that would have meant George could reach them, too. But I did fine. I don't think I took Tylenol at all after leaving the hospital, and ibuprofen only when I remembered I hadn't had it in a while.

It was particularly special to be able to introduce George to his baby brother. He was more interested in all the machines in the hospital room, though. I'm very grateful to my mom and Christine for being here and staying with George during this time, and bringing him back and forth--and helping afterward. I once again spent only 3 days in the hospital. I feel like the nurses tried to make a bigger point of allowing me to rest/sleep this time, but it's still so much easier to sleep at home! I'm also super grateful to Josh for all he did and has continued to do. It's been a fun but rather eventful year. But I did feel the need to get down his birth story, finally. :)

Birth story... a year later

Sooooo... now that my baby is a year old, I thought maybe I could take a little time to write a birth story, finally. (For the first few months, I did try to make sure I wrote in my journal with some measure of consistency. Since then, many of the milestones have been marked through Facebook posts.)

I was blessed with a very uneventful pregnancy. Even though I chose to see a high-risk doctor, I was never considered high-risk. As the doctor said, "I expect this to be a very normal pregnancy, other than the fact that you will need to have a C-section." In subsequent appointments, he would tell us how "boring" the pregnancy was... which we all preferred. I never had morning sickness; the only time I really felt sick because of the pregnancy was before I knew I was pregnant and I went to church fasting. By the end, walking was more difficult, mostly because my belly was heavy and the pressure could quickly become too much, but I imagine that's not an uncommon symptom for many women. My favorite thing, by far, was just feeling him move, especially when I knew that it was in response to our voices. Even in the womb, he was very active for much of the day... including when I was walking. But he would hardly move at all at night, unless I got up--which was usually once each night.

We even made it to our scheduled date for the C-section, at 39 weeks and 3 days. I was grateful that the doctor wanted to make it that far, and I was grateful that both my body and the baby cooperated. Living at a high elevation means there can be a greater likelihood that even a full-term baby will need supplemental oxygen; that risk increases with a C-section. Josh and I were very much hoping and praying for George to have fully-developed lungs and not to need a NICU stay. (We discussed it beforehand, though. Josh told me if they had to rush George away immediately after he was born, he'd be torn about whether to follow or to stay with me. I told him he should follow and stay with the baby.)

I only ever had one real contraction, the evening before George was born. I guess maybe I was supposed to experience what a contraction felt like for me. But it was just the one, and nothing more. It was a blessing to be able to get a good sleep that night. Most of the people I know who had major struggles following a C-section also labored for many hours beforehand. When it's planned and scheduled, it's still major surgery... but not as bad.

The morning George was born, we took some time at home for last-minute preparations and to read scriptures together, since we didn't fully know what the day would bring--only that we would likely be exhausted by the time it was over. When we got to the hospital, we learned that the person who had been scheduled before me hadn't shown up. (I'd love an explanation of that. You schedule a C-section, and then you don't show? Really?) In any case, that meant that they could get me in more quickly than expected. In other words, there would be far less waiting around than we originally thought. Hooray!!! Waiting just produces more anxiety for everyone...

I had been in for blood work the previous morning to expedite things when we checked in for surgery. When I asked for a butterfly needle then, the nurse called a phlebotomist, as well. And they decided to have anesthesia, rather than the nurse, place the IV when we were prepping for surgery. Oh, the little things!!!! I must say: in dealing with everything else, it made a huge difference to have people who knew what they were doing, so I didn't end up with a very bruised arm.

We also had a consultation with anesthesia again before heading into the OR. The anesthesiologist there that day had a slightly different plan than the one we had consulted a few weeks previously. (For background, we had some concerns about getting a spinal tap or epidural, since I did know that my spinal column was too narrow for a Harrington rod when my spine was fused when I was 13. They weren't concerned about that, but the fusion was a concern; they wondered whether they would be able to get in.) The anesthesiologist that day mentioned that he had worked with a couple of other little people. He didn't like the previous idea of doing a combined spinal and epidural, because it would require going in with a needle more than once. He felt confident in a lower dose of the spinal and outlined the risks of it being either too much or too little--either way, it would involve me being put under for the delivery. Our hope was still that it would work as planned, that I could be awake, and that Josh could be in the OR. He would have to wait until they knew for sure, though.

Having them place the spinal tap was awkward, but they were able to get in. I stayed sitting for a few moments afterward, so it would drop into my legs initially. Then they had me lie down. They tested over and over again--I'm not really sure how long--to see whether I had gone numb. I know Josh was beginning to feel anxious... even without being with him, I knew he would hate the waiting game at that point. I was also beginning to feel anxious that I wouldn't go numb like I needed to, so I was glad when I finally did. They brought Josh in just after they began operating.

Even though the surgery was not scheduled until 11:30 am, George was born at 11:08 (though I didn't know the exact time until later, obviously). It was a beautiful sound to both of us (Josh and me) to hear his good, strong lungs as he entered the cold operating room. It was clear that our prayers had been answered, and he was prepared to breathe! Josh had stood up quickly when they told him to "get ready," and he quickly crossed the room as doctors and nurses did a quick exam and cleaned, diapered, and wrapped George. As soon as they let him, he took him; George's screams stopped almost instantly. (He still soothes very easily with hugs and gentle words.) I was left to wonder what exactly was happening, though; it took Josh a minute or two to realize that I probably wanted to see George, too. At that point, he came back up by my head with George, where I was able to touch him and talk to him as the doctors put me back together.

I know at one point, I shut my eyes briefly, and Josh asked whether I was okay. I just nodded. I didn't trust myself to talk at all right then. I was grateful to have him and George right there with me. Let's just say that no matter how well the spinal tap works, you still know they are working on you, and it's not terribly comfortable to feel organs being put back in place. I'm sure they weren't literally shoving things in, but it kind of felt like it. They also took a little longer than normal, because they were able to use stitches both inside and outside (no staples!!!!). I was very grateful for that later, since they didn't actually have to remove anything later.

When I was finally stitched up again, I was able to sit up a little and finally got to hold my sweet boy! I didn't want to let him go. I loved seeing Josh hold him. It also made me happy when we reached the recovery room and my mom and sister, Christine, got to meet and hold him, too. But it was so special to be able to hold my sweet son... the little one I had carried inside me for the previous 9 months!

All in all, I would say things went very smoothly with surgery and recovery, as well. I despise narcotics, but I handled the morphine that was part of the spinal, and they talked me into taking a single dose of narcotics post-surgery. After that, I said I really didn't want them; I stuck with mainly ibuprofen, though I alternated with acetaminophen for a few days. For me, the pain was well-managed just with those. I also experience very little nausea from the surgery and meds... really only once mid-surgery. By the time I was back in a room, I just wanted to eat. Of course, they only offered crackers at first, and I was little frustrated after they cleared me for real food and then the food services person came in and made me order all clear liquids for dinner. That got worked out quickly enough, though, and I was able to eat real  food.

As to the hospital stay as a whole... who actually sleeps in hospitals? Ugh! I was extremely grateful when they asked me a day earlier than expected if I wanted to go home. Ummmm... yes! Thankfully, George was also cleared to be released; he had lost more weight than they wanted him to, and we were definitely still working on getting comfortable with breastfeeding. But going home was by far the best thing for both of us. I had a lot of help from my mom in getting George to learn to nurse well, and both George and I were far more relaxed at home. And we were finally out of the clutches of the pediatrics team, who pushed so hard for us to supplement with formula, even making a note that my arms were "too short" for breastfeeding. (We did supplement a little with pumped breastmilk in the beginning, but George preferred nursing even then, for which I am very grateful.)

This past year has been a wonderful one with lots of learning for all of us. I may post more blogs later--assuming I find the time again. But I wanted to take a few minutes to get down the birth story finally. :)

RIP or Irish Jig?

Grandma Sommerfeld passed away early this morning. I'm taking some time to blog at work, it's true... but today is the day (once every two weeks) that I am allowed two hours for personal family history, so this is how I am using it.

I keep seeing "R.I.P." as siblings and cousins are posting about Grandma's passing. While her body is at rest, I don't believe that her spirit is resting. I think she has probably done a jig, like she said she would. And I'm certain she has been greeted by many family members who have gone before: her parents, her half siblings, two of her children (Ed and Kathy), a grandson (Robby), and others.

I feel truly blessed to have had Grandma in my life for so many years. I am so grateful for her strength, for her exemplary life, for her love of family and especially of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I am especially grateful for time I have had with her in the past few years--most particularly the time I was able to spend interviewing her and learning more about her. I will treasure that time, and I will always be grateful for those recordings that will allow me to hear her voice again and again.

I am grateful for the woman who at 16 made the decision to join the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and who left her home and country at 18 to make a new life for herself. She worked hard in those first months to repay her Uncle Billy, who had loaned her the money to come to America.

She continued to work hard throughout her life. She raised seven children. She helped Grandpa in running his business. She attended university as a non-traditional (older) student, graduating summa cum laude in Russian, with a minor in German. She then taught high school Russian for several years. With Grandpa, she served three missions. In between, and continuing after the third mission (into her 70s), she would still substitute in the schools.

I am grateful for her example of love and loyalty. Grandma and Grandpa just celebrated their 61st wedding anniversary this summer. They have loved and supported each other for many years. They have also always been loyal to the gospel. In addition to three missions, they both served many years in the temple.

We wanted to do something special for Grandma's 80th birthday, two years ago. She didn't want a big party or open house, like we had done for Grandpa. She kept telling us, "I just want to go to the zoo. I haven't been for years." That was a fun day, as the children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren who were able to go went to the zoo together to celebrate Grandma's birthday.

I'm also very grateful for the qualities I know I have inherited from Grandma. Even when I was very small, I heard often how much I was like her. I only hope that throughout my life, I can live with the same grace and poise that she always showed.

I'm grateful that she was able to be part of my wedding day. It meant so much to me to have her there in the temple. And it meant soooo much that she and Grandpa were willing to share their backyard for our reception. It was wonderful to see her happiness that day. I wish I had seen her dance with Josh; I had already gone inside to change. I know she was blessed with extra energy and strength that day, and I am so glad.

It makes me a little sad that my future children will not meet Grandma in mortality. But I hope that through my mom and through me, they will know her, too. I hope I can instill in them the values that were so important to Grandma--especially the love of the gospel of Jesus Christ and of family. I hope to share with them stories and memories that will help them know their great-grandma and want to live up to the heritage left them by her and by others who have gone before.

Dear Grandma, I am so glad to know that you are no longer suffering. Your spirit is free to dance a jig, while your body is at rest until resurrection day. I look forward to that great day, when we shall meet again, when "God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away." (New Testament, Revelation 21:4) I love you, Grandma! Thank you, thank you for everything--for the person you have been and for all you have taught me.

Anxiously engaged ;)

I probably should clarify that I'm not really "anxious" -- just very excited. :) Since I know there are those who want the story, here goes.

Josh and I met probably 5 or so years ago (I've been close friends with his sister, Christel, for a while), but we didn't really have much contact after that first meeting. Neither one of us can remember exactly when that was. For the first couple of years, I saw him again at Christel's wedding and at a couple of other family gatherings after that.

People have asked whether we were set up. The answer is, no; he was interested on his own. A year ago last October, I got a text from Christel asking whether it was okay for her to give Josh my phone number. I said sure... but I didn't end up hearing from him. Around that time, though, we both started hanging out at Christel's a lot more often. Halloween of 2013, for example. That wasn't deliberately planned. Christel invited me to join them to take Hannah trick-or-treating, and Chris invited Josh. No coordination on their parts at all. But it put us in the same place at the same time--something that happened more and more over the next year or so.

Hannah's birthday is in January. So a year ago, when friends and family were gathered for her party, it came up that someone else had been to the zoo that day. I mentioned something about having a zoo pass, and Josh said he would like to go... and we made plans for the next morning. Technically that was our first official date, though it was a lonnnng time before the next one. (That is also still the only time that I've covered the entire zoo in a single day. There's something to be said for going without kids!)

Over the course of last year, we often ended up at Christel's. We discovered that "veggie parties" were a great way to introduce Hannah to some new (and healthful) foods, so we had dinner followed by a movie probably at least once a month throughout the year. Christel and I planned these for Hannah, but Josh was often invited as well. I think the only time he called me, though (other than if Christel asked him to give me a ride to her place) was to invite me to his birthday party.

In the November-December time frame, it seems the timing was finally right for both of us... the stars aligned, if you will. Josh did need a little nudge. I messaged Christel and told her I knew Josh was still interested and it was starting to drive me crazy. She suggested maybe we could double, but he had to call and ask me. That worked! That Friday night (December 5), we got dinner and went to a movie. Josh and I held hands in the movie for the first time. I think we would both agree that that date marks when we officially started dating.

Even though it was only a matter of weeks between then and Christmas, we both went to each others' extended family Christmas parties... and both of us survived meeting families. :) In fact, the first time he told me he loved me was after his family Christmas party.

I think I sensed pretty early on that Josh was definitely moving toward marriage, even if we didn't discuss it right away. The first that I was fairly certain, though, was a few weeks ago as he was driving me home. As we approached Temple Square, he started singing "I love to  see the temple." (Can I just say how much I love that he likes to sing and will just break out in song at times, especially the hymns and Primary songs! That wasn't the first time we'd sung something in the car.) By this time, we were also seeing each other 4-5 times each week, even if it wasn't always an official date.

It still was a little unexpected, though certainly not unwelcome, when Josh brought up marriage on Friday evening, February 6. Our conversation in the car was a little awkward, to be honest; I don't think either of us really had the words to express ourselves right then. He did say that he intended to propose officially on Valentine's Day. And we did then spend the rest of the evening looking at rings and picked out one we both liked.

What I did learn that night is that Josh wanted to give a Claddagh ring. It's probably not something I would have looked at otherwise, but I really loved that he had given it thought already, When we first started looking, I saw one with a green stone and liked that, so that was mostly what we looked at, But it took a while to find one where we both liked the style and where the hands were just right. The funny thing is, his grandparents were in the room the entire time and had no idea what we were doing,

Over that weekend, Josh also called and talked to both of my parents, This meant that my mom and I were both struggling with not being able to tell anyone else for a full week! That was tough, As my mom said, my Facebook statuses all week were definitely hints--if anyone had been looking. It was just so hard not to say anything!!! To compensate, I started looking at dresses instead. Turns out little girl dresses are the easiest, so I did pick out flower girl dresses for our nieces and sent the link to my mom. She went to get them right away and also found a suit for my nephew. I guess the kids are covered, anyway! There's still plenty of planning to do. But it occupied my mind at least briefly.

When Josh and I got together on Friday the 13th for dinner, I was happy to find out that he planned to come and get me early on Saturday. I think he had a hard time not telling one all week, as well.

So, Valentine's Day... Josh came at 9 am, along with his dog, Savannah. We went for a walk in Memory Grove, letting Savannah enjoy the off-leash area. For those familiar with the trail, there's a spot that looks like it is the foundation of a house--or maybe just of a wall surrounding a smaller building--with a couple of steps leading up to the enclosure. That's where Josh got down on his knees and asked, "Cathy, will you marry me?" And of course I said yes. He told me shortly thereafter that he had planned on proposing later, on top of the Conference Center, but that he couldn't wait any longer. I'm glad. I think he chose a good spot. :)

Once we'd grabbed Savannah again, we sat on a bench near the trail. Josh took a selfie of us--showing off the ring. We texted it to our parents and called his mom (and my mom called, as well). Then we also texted our siblings and a handful of other people--before I posted to Facebook.

The rest of Valentine's Day was also very nice--including a visit to the Great Salt Lake, a quick stop at the cemetery where Josh's dad is buried, dinner at Sweet Tomatoes (thanks, John and Megan, for the gift card--even if it took me six months to use it!), and watching The Princess Bride. It was a long but wonderful and very happy day.

I think that about covers it. And for those still wondering, we're planning on getting married in the middle of July--hopefully the 17th, possibly the 18th.

Oh, Christmas Choir Concert starts with "C"!

My mom wanted me to share a few thoughts on the Mormon Tabernacle Choir concert with Santino Fontana and the Sesame Street muppets, since I had the opportunity to go. I decided that would be easier to do in a blog post rather than an extra long status update, so here goes...

I think "magical" is probably the best word I have to describe the concert. I grew up with Sesame Street and loved it. I always loved Big Bird and Ernie, especially, but I was definitely a Sesame Street child. Being there for the concert made me feel like a little kid again: bright, shining eyes; huge smile; and very eager clapping. I don't think there was any point in the concert where I was not smiling. I just couldn't help it. But at the end, as I looked around at the other people attending the concert, I could see that it was the same for most of them. For the first time ever, children as young as 5 were allowed to attend (8 is usually the requirement), and as I looked around and saw so many happy faces following the concert, it almost seemed like all of us there were only 5 years old again. And the more I thought about, the more I realized how very appropriate that was for a Christmas concert. It really put the magic into this Christmas season and into our hearts. The love and joy we all felt as we left the concert is a major part of what Christmas is all about!

Santino Fontana made his entrance in a hot air balloon, singing "The Candy Man," and it just got better from there. Once the muppets joined the performance, it was a lot like watching an episode of Sesame Street. Each muppet wanted a part in the show and chose what to do. Rosita and Abby Cadabby wanted to be in the choir, and they even got choir dresses to match what the women were wearing. Ernie and Bert wanted to help backstage, although they also got their chance to announce numbers, and Ernie "dragged" Bert onstage for his turn to perform. (With Santino Fontana at the piano, the three of them and others sang "Sing [a Song].") Grover wanted to direct--the show, not the choir and orchestra--so he went to the control room. Elmo wanted to record on his video camera as he learned how Christmas was "more." This included a visit outside to see the lights on Temple Square. Cookie Monster wanted... well, what does Cookie Monster always want? He continued to ask for Christmas cookies throughout the performance, although he also learned about Christmas: when he finally got a plate of cookies, he said he could just eat one and then share the rest. Big Bird couldn't decide what he wanted to do at first, but then he thought it would be fun to direct the orchestra and choir. That was entertaining. :)

The Count only made an appearance to join in Richard Elliott's traditional organ solo--a duet, this time. I actually wasn't at all surprised by this. I expected him to come on with Richard Elliott. And, of course, "Twelve Days of Christmas" was the perfect choice, since it gives plenty of counting. "My true love must have a thing for birds... ahaha!!!" Really, think about how many gifts in the song consist of birds. I also got a kick out of "Five golden rings!!! And five happy couples!!! I love weddings!" as Richard Elliott worked in Wagner's wedding march. For the first time ever (and quite possibly the last time ever), "Twelve Days of Christmas did not drag; in fact, it was not anywhere near long enough.

I was happy (though not surprised) to hear "Keep Christmas With You" as part of the show, as well. It didn't seem like many audience members were familiar with the song, but it captures so many feelings:

Keep Christmas with you all through the year.
When Christmas is over, save some Christmas cheer.
These precious moments, hold them very dear,
And keep Christmas with you all through the year.

And since some songs had to be arranged for the choir to join in, it also only made sense that they might change the words a little. As Cookie Monster was still grumbling about how C is for cookie and he really wanted Christmas cookies, Santino Fontana reminded him that C is also for Christmas; and for concert, which he was a part of; and for the fabulous choir behind them. "Oh, Christmas Choir Concert starts with C!"

I can hardly wait for the DVD to come out next year. It is something I will probably watch again every Christmas season. I'd also like to share the magic with my niece and nephew next year (and by then, their new baby brother or sister) and perhaps someday with children of my own. Truly, the best part of the concert was feeling the joy of a child and being awakened to the beauty and magic of Christmas!

When the inevitable finally happens...

It's already late tonight, but I've been thinking about this since yesterday afternoon. It was going to come up eventually. I've found myself wondering in the last while, at what age do children start to notice differences? Some of them never really say anything--or maybe they ask their parents at home. Now I have the beginnings of an answer.

At lunch yesterday, my nephew said to me, "Tia Cathy? Mommy and Daddy are taller than you. And Tia Sammy is taller than you. And Jenny, and Melanie." I smiled and told him, "Yep, you're right."

My brother actually surprised me more by telling him, "Jacob, that's not nice." It's always a little awkward, and it surprised all of us, but I wouldn't tell him it's not nice. He's just curious; even though he was making a statement, I think he was really asking a question.

I didn't have an answer for him right then. I'm not sure I have an answer for him now. All I can really tell him is that Heavenly Father made us all differently. In my case, I was born with a form of dwarfism, so I am smaller. He's absolutely right. His mommy and daddy are taller than I am. So are his other tias and tios. It's perfectly valid for a 4-year-old to wonder and express his curiosity. (I'd be more concerned if he didn't...)

I love my little guy! I hope I can come up with a good answer for him, for the next time I see him. It's all part of him learning and developing. :)