Yesterday was painfully predictable. As a student of psychology I should have seen it. As a follower of the gospel of Jesus Christ I should have applied it. And as a grateful believer in the counsel of modern day prophets I should have done it. Silly me, once again. (As riveting as this blog post promises to be, if you only have time to read one thing, click on the link above and read that. It's not about religion - it's about life.)
If there's one great lesson in life I've learned it's that I shouldn't forget the great lessons in life I've learned. Lessons aren't meant to be 'once and done' like those days I've had lately. They are continuously applicable if we just open our eyes to see. Just in case you haven't clicked on the link above yet, I'll paraphrase a little story in that article that has been visiting my mind the past grueling week. When President Hinckley was a young man he was sent on a mission to Preston, England and when he arrived he was poor in health and in spirit. He wrote a letter home explaining that he was wasting his time and his father's money. The reply back from his father simply said, "Dear Gordon. I have your recent letter. I have only one suggestion: Forget yourself and go to work."
Bottom line: work is food for the soul. And the problem with my approach these last weeks is that I was hogging it all for myself.
Yesterday I woke the troops at 8:30am and by 10:00 we were loaded in the car with rusty tools, dingy work gloves and some apprehensive attitudes. It was explained to the children that in our family we take time each week to do service for someone in need. And as luck would have it, Pops and Winnie (our dear family friends) had a need. They have several acres of property they are in the process of clearing and it sounded like a perfect job for our crew.
We rolled in to the dusty drive and the kids started their mumbles. But one by one, they dutifully got out of the car and began the first assignment - trash pick up. Everyone except Ilona. With arms folded and hip cocked she announced, "Ilona no do this in Ukraine. Ilona no. Fu." To which I replied, "Ilona do this in America or Ilona no play in America." Again she said she would not do it. I walked away. It took less than 10 minutes of her defiantly watching the rest of us haul garbage before she joined in. We worked through the morning to move rocks, cut trees, pick roots, and clean the scattered garbage until we were exhausted from the heat and I felt like they had given a worthy effort.
This is where the day got interesting.
Happy voices sang along to the radio on the drive home.
After a stop at the grocery store, the kids helped carry the bags in.
Sasha cleaned out the entire fridge and organized it with the fresh food.
Ilona made eye contact, spoke to, and asked to go swimming with the girls to one of their friends houses (she is normally completely guarded when meeting new people).
Sasha said, "Sasha love you mama."
He helped prepare dinner.
Then he washed my car inside and out.
Ilona washed Aaron's.
When Aaron got home from work, I hardly took a breath as I recounted the days events to him. He laughed and said, "Tara, they're just tricking you!"
As I stood in the kitchen helping Yana put the finishing touches on dinner, I gave her the winky winky and congratulated her for threatening the kids and shaping up their behavior. She denied such talks and wrote me this:
And then she shrugged her shoulders and said, "magic!"
Yana requested that we eat dinner at the table that night. She clasped her hands together and said, "Makes kids feel close." Even though we eat dinner together every night, it's always with some at the bar and some at the table because of our numbers. I retrieved the extra leaf from storage and we arranged an intimate table for 10. Yana lit a candle and placed it in the center, explaining that it was a birthday gift she intended to use during dinner with each one of the special families she stayed with in America. And before we ate, she offered the prayer. The kitchen filled with noises of clattering plates, lively conversations, gracious thank you's and laughter that filled my ruptured heart with goodness. Yana was right. We felt close.
The time was late, but we indulged the pleading children in a game of tag. At just before midnight, with everyone tucked safely in their rooms, I melted wearily into bed. But not before I poured my heart out in gratitude to God. He handed me that day on a massive silver platter. And although I'm certain the leftovers in the coming days will probably never be that sweet, undoubtedly laced with grossities like salmonella poisoning, I'm relishing each satisfying moment of the day we forgot ourselves and got to work.
Fun times:
If there's one great lesson in life I've learned it's that I shouldn't forget the great lessons in life I've learned. Lessons aren't meant to be 'once and done' like those days I've had lately. They are continuously applicable if we just open our eyes to see. Just in case you haven't clicked on the link above yet, I'll paraphrase a little story in that article that has been visiting my mind the past grueling week. When President Hinckley was a young man he was sent on a mission to Preston, England and when he arrived he was poor in health and in spirit. He wrote a letter home explaining that he was wasting his time and his father's money. The reply back from his father simply said, "Dear Gordon. I have your recent letter. I have only one suggestion: Forget yourself and go to work."
Bottom line: work is food for the soul. And the problem with my approach these last weeks is that I was hogging it all for myself.
Yesterday I woke the troops at 8:30am and by 10:00 we were loaded in the car with rusty tools, dingy work gloves and some apprehensive attitudes. It was explained to the children that in our family we take time each week to do service for someone in need. And as luck would have it, Pops and Winnie (our dear family friends) had a need. They have several acres of property they are in the process of clearing and it sounded like a perfect job for our crew.
We rolled in to the dusty drive and the kids started their mumbles. But one by one, they dutifully got out of the car and began the first assignment - trash pick up. Everyone except Ilona. With arms folded and hip cocked she announced, "Ilona no do this in Ukraine. Ilona no. Fu." To which I replied, "Ilona do this in America or Ilona no play in America." Again she said she would not do it. I walked away. It took less than 10 minutes of her defiantly watching the rest of us haul garbage before she joined in. We worked through the morning to move rocks, cut trees, pick roots, and clean the scattered garbage until we were exhausted from the heat and I felt like they had given a worthy effort.
 |
| Ilona no do this in Ukraine |
This is where the day got interesting.
Happy voices sang along to the radio on the drive home.
After a stop at the grocery store, the kids helped carry the bags in.
Sasha cleaned out the entire fridge and organized it with the fresh food.
Ilona made eye contact, spoke to, and asked to go swimming with the girls to one of their friends houses (she is normally completely guarded when meeting new people).
Sasha said, "Sasha love you mama."
He helped prepare dinner.
Then he washed my car inside and out.
Ilona washed Aaron's.
When Aaron got home from work, I hardly took a breath as I recounted the days events to him. He laughed and said, "Tara, they're just tricking you!"
As I stood in the kitchen helping Yana put the finishing touches on dinner, I gave her the winky winky and congratulated her for threatening the kids and shaping up their behavior. She denied such talks and wrote me this:
And then she shrugged her shoulders and said, "magic!"
Yana requested that we eat dinner at the table that night. She clasped her hands together and said, "Makes kids feel close." Even though we eat dinner together every night, it's always with some at the bar and some at the table because of our numbers. I retrieved the extra leaf from storage and we arranged an intimate table for 10. Yana lit a candle and placed it in the center, explaining that it was a birthday gift she intended to use during dinner with each one of the special families she stayed with in America. And before we ate, she offered the prayer. The kitchen filled with noises of clattering plates, lively conversations, gracious thank you's and laughter that filled my ruptured heart with goodness. Yana was right. We felt close.
The time was late, but we indulged the pleading children in a game of tag. At just before midnight, with everyone tucked safely in their rooms, I melted wearily into bed. But not before I poured my heart out in gratitude to God. He handed me that day on a massive silver platter. And although I'm certain the leftovers in the coming days will probably never be that sweet, undoubtedly laced with grossities like salmonella poisoning, I'm relishing each satisfying moment of the day we forgot ourselves and got to work.
Fun times:
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| Boys introducing Sasha to American football |
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| Alina |
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| Running joke between the kids - teasing each other about who they love |
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| Yana and Sasha hanging high so Jaxon can't reach |
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| More inside jokes |
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