I hate it when good things come to an end.

I'm slightly blue today. Thank goodness I have Ronald Reagan to cheer me up. From a letter he wrote to his son before his wedding, via the Letters of Note blog:

Michael Reagan
Manhattan Beach, California
June 1971

Dear Mike:

Enclosed is the item I mentioned (with which goes a torn up IOU). I could stop here but I won't.

You've heard all the jokes that have been rousted around by all the "unhappy marrieds" and cynics. Now, in case no one has suggested it, there is another viewpoint. You have entered into the most meaningful relationship there is in all human life. It can be whatever you decide to make it.

Some men feel their masculinity can only be proven if they play out in their own life all the locker-room stories, smugly confident that what a wife doesn't know won't hurt her. The truth is, somehow, way down inside, without her ever finding lipstick on the collar or catching a man in the flimsy excuse of where he was till three A.M., a wife does know, and with that knowing, some of the magic of this relationship disappears. There are more men griping about marriage who kicked the whole thing away themselves than there can ever be wives deserving of blame. There is an old law of physics that you can only get out of a thing as much as you put in it. The man who puts into the marriage only half of what he owns will get that out. Sure, there will be moments when you will see someone or think back to an earlier time and you will be challenged to see if you can still make the grade, but let me tell you how really great is the challenge of proving your masculinity and charm with one woman for the rest of your life. Any man can find a twerp here and there who will go along with cheating, and it doesn't take all that much manhood. It does take quite a man to remain attractive and to be loved by a woman who has heard him snore, seen him unshaven, tended him while he was sick and washed his dirty underwear. Do that and keep her still feeling a warm glow and you will know some very beautiful music. If you truly love a girl, you shouldn't ever want her to feel, when she sees you greet a secretary or a girl you both know, that humiliation of wondering if she was someone who caused you to be late coming home, nor should you want any other woman to be able to meet your wife and know she was smiling behind her eyes as she looked at her, the woman you love, remembering this was the woman you rejected even momentarily for her favors. 

Mike, you know better than many what an unhappy home is and what it can do to others. Now you have a chance to make it come out the way it should. There is no greater happiness for a man than approaching a door at the end of a day knowing someone on the other side of that door is waiting for the sound of his footsteps.

Love,

Dad

P.S. You'll never get in trouble if you say "I love you" at least once a day.

Scraps of Father's Day sentiments

Laughing Dad. (And Mom doing the Q-tip. And Spencer shimmying maybe?)

Today I'm just flipping through old writings and recognizing how far my Dad has come, what he's accomplished as a man, a husband, and a father. And I just keep on being reminded, as I browse through old emails and journal entries, what a sweetheart this guy is. I'm so grateful for that quality in him, that tenderness that causes him to cry when he talks to us about our futures and his hopes for us all. It has humbled him over time and caused him to work through his natural man tendencies. It takes a big man to step forward and face flaws. Not that my Dad is afflicted with anything big. He just has always striven to be better, smarter, more thoughtful, more patient, harder working, and more communicative over time. And you know what? It shows. Thank you, Dad.

Tonight he's driving home from Provo, having just dropped off his baby, Miss Katie, at BYU. He steered that bird away from the nest this weekend. Congratulations, Dad! What a beautiful job you have done overseeing our household for the last... almost 27 years. I know Heavenly Father is truly proud of you. Happy Father's Day.

-----------------------------

{From an old letter I wrote to my Dad}

I am particularly glad to write about what our friendship means to me, because it is
something that I think has really grown and been strengthened this past year. Daddy,
you, with the help of your superb wife, successfully grew me up and released me into
the wild last year. Can we say that yet? Yes, I think it’s about time. And thus, while
your special calling of counselor and steward is still there, special facets of it are now
gleaming in ways never seen before… like the fact that I call you on hard days and we
can commiserate for a while, as equals… before you take over and dole out the fatherly
wisdom. Good times. Thanks for listening. I like those days when I look down at my
phone and know that the only speed dial number that will do the trick is yours. I’m very
thankful for the opportunity to speak to you and hear your thoughts about the plan God
has for us, and the love he has for us, for our family, for the members of our church, and
for everyone we will ever meet and more.

Since elementary school, friendships have been one of the most mysterious and cherished
commodities I have ever sought after. At ever stage in life it seems, I have to re-learn the
same simple principle: some things in life you can’t achieve by thinking. Some things
require only your heart’s guidance, openness, and leadership. Friendship is the first and
foremost of these kinds of mysterious attainments. I hope to be able to teach my kids how
to let their hearts swell with joy in the goodness, the fun, the wisdom, and the value of
others they meet. I hope to show them that by doing so they will be opening the doors to
real and true friendships, one of life’s most durable happiness makers.

Because every time I hit rock bottom, it is the memory of the simple, uncomplicated joy
of laughing with someone that brings me back to reality, to peace.

Thank you, Dad, for the peace you bring. Thank you for trying your best. I love you. I
know Heavenly Father loves you. Happy Father’s day.


----------------

{Journal entry from the day Spencer was released as a missionary}

- We arrived earlier than President Parker, so we sang hymns around the piano while we waited, which he loved as he came in to greet us.
- He told us we have a special, righteous unity in our family, rare even for members of the church. (Just treasure this, don't be prideful of that though).
- Asked Spence for some of his favorite stories from his mission, more than one came from the time period near the end of his mission.
- "You have four people in this room who will be able to tell almost instantaneously if the girl you (Spencer) bring home is good- your mom and your sisters." Dad perked up and Pres. Parker affirmed that Dad is pretty wise, too.
-Go get education, hit the ground running, follow God's plan for you.
- As the president talked, we all held hands and cried or smiled as we sat there for over an hour hearing counsel as a family. President asked Dad his advice to us and, in the sweet, soft-cracking voice that Dad can get, he encouraged Spencer and me to marry up, just like he did.

Overt Drooly Girly Post during the NBA Finals

You are about to wonder if my blog has been hijacked.

Because all I want to do is record my thoughts at the outset of the 2012 NBA Finals, which I have been following judiciously with Spencie for the last month.

I think it was in Game 7 that Bass got a fantastic dunk over
Wade.  I almost cried I was so happy for Bass.
You know you've made it professionally when you can
dunk and come down on a surprised D.Wade.

I'm sad the Celtics lost. Real sad. But not ultimately surprised. Rondo, Allen, Bass, Pierce, and Garnett, I salute you. I have loved your team since my 2008 visit to your city. And now that your team lost and some of you slunk off the court crying like 12-year-olds, I have turned my allegiance over temporarily to my favorite NBA player, Dwyane Wade, and his team, the Heat.

I'm enjoying defending this choice, especially since everyone on FB and their mom has decided to bandwagon onto the Kevin Durant train. Granted, they have good reason. It's going to be a great series between two fantastic teams. But I hope the Durant-ians will ultimately be disappointed. Because, let's face it: it's LeBron's year! Uh, I mean, AND D. Wade's year (again!)

(Pause while I hand a tissue to a certain Clevelandite I know...).

Ok, so mostly I love D. Wade because he said in an interview during the 2008 Olympics that he has like 1,000 pairs of shoes, and because he is a fantastic single dad and a committed philanthropist. AND because he is far and away the best dressed player in the NBA. Multitudinous proof:

(Pause to wipe drool...)

Ladies, for making your Wednesday morning, you are welcome.

Ahem. I'll keep this short and sweet because, let's be real: I am a girl, I get into sports for their human performance and emotional aspects, and I don't want to embarrass myself in front of my analytics-able readers who actually know a pick-and-roll when they see one (actually, I finally learned what that looks like on Saturday night, thanks to Coach Spencer!).

Predictions:

Heat win in 6 (I want to say 5 but I'll say 6 for the Durant-ians' sake). Lebron MVP. Kevin Durant puts in a great show, gets hungry for a ring next year. Battier continues to surprise me with his ability to suddenly sink 3's and I actually learn his first name (He was my favorite player to hate last week v. the Celts). That is all. For now. GO HEAT!

PS For all of you who know how much I love USC/BYU football, no, I don't know where all this fanhood for East Coast teams has come from. Don't worry, it's limited to pro sports, aka the boring sports (compared to the NCAA and the Olympics!!!).

Honor

My friend Scottie was killed in a helicopter crash in Afghanistan yesterday. He commented on a picture of me and his brother on facebook two days ago. On Memorial Day, me, his brother, and a few of our friends did a huge Crossfit-style workout on the beach that left us all walking funny (136 pushups, 272 lunges, and 16 sprints into waist-high ocean), all in the name of remembering those who fought and served our country, but didn't survive. I can't believe it, I can't believe he is now someone we sprinted for just over a week ago. All I want to say is thank you, Scottie. I am so sorry this happened. Sorry especially to your family. You are loved and remembered by so many. I am proud of your service and humbled by your sacrifice.

Tact

I'm not lounging like I was at Duck anymore,
but I'm still feeling pretty swell hanging out
here on my couch this morning.

I have today through Monday off from work, so be prepared to receive multiple blog updates from me. My bills are paid, my laundry is drying, and the whole weekend stretches before me, filled with good things to do and plenty of time to nap! Man I love my twenties, anyone else feel that way??

This post is actually supposed to be about my teens. I was trying to explain what teenage Lindsey was like to my friend Ray recently because he was SO sure teenage Lindsey was super opinionated and bossy. I had to tell him he was half-right. I was actually pretty quiet in high school (and DANG quiet in middle school!), but I did have my own small way of showing my strong opinions back then. Revelation: I had little-to-no tact as a teen. I said whatever came into my mind in conversations, and I had absolutely no recognition of how my statements helped or hindered my relationships with others. Did anyone else have to learn tact as a teenager? Sometimes I remember certain things I said in high school and I can't BELIEVE people didn't call me an idiot to my face, all the time.

There is a point to this rambling confession. I want to hi-light my genius mom one more time this month. While I was talking to Ray, I distinctly remembered a conversation I had with my mother that I think was a real turning point, a moment when I started to realize how to empathize with and make friends of others through talking. We were carpooling to school one morning and one of the other girls mentioned how much she loved the Creed song playing on the radio (Sidenote: BAHAHAHA!). My immediate response to her was the flat, gratingly honest statement, "Ew. I HATE. That. Band!" End of conversation until we arrived at school and thanked my mom for the ride.

When I came home that day my mom gently observed to me, "Lindsey, I know you hate that band and that's ok, but how do you think Sidney feels when she talks about something that makes her happy and you shoot it down? Do you think she will still want to talk about other good things to you?" And for whatever reason, what mom said at that moment clicked. I had the opportunity to make a friend, and I had kicked it in the face! I'm grateful mom had the presence of mind to teach her oddball 14 year old a superb, succinct lesson about empathy and communication.

It's a long process, learning how to ask good questions of other people and how to respond tactfully, charitably, happily, and respectfully. I'm not done yet. Sometimes you just GOT to say exactly what you think, and I'm still parsing out what things are ok to state and what things are better to keep to yourself. But it's a worthwhile pursuit, because the end results are genuine friendship and making people feel good about themselves, feel interesting and important. Does anyone have any rules they follow that they really feel has helped them talk to people better? Mine is just to start and end conversations with empathy, put yourself in their shoes.

Plagiarized Duck.

I went and stayed in a beach mansion in the Outer Banks with 30 of my closest friends and 800 LDS singles. I'm too tired to report it all so I'm referring you to the glamorous, witty Hannah, who was right there with me to witness the majesty of Duck.

Oh, except I must add: my friend Ashley tried to kiss a turtle. Ain't no one else reporting on that crazy event on their blog. Turns out, turtles bite. Hard. And her annoying friends laughed. Hard.

Some of the boys.

My girls.

Again, Hannah has great pics on her blog; go there for more. Happy summer, yo! It is officially June, the greatest month of them all!!!

Hello Good Bye

Said good bye to best friend Michelle tonight.

 

I'm sad.

I think I'll go to the beach for a week...


Thanks for everything, Michelle. You are one of those friends I will keep forever, no matter where on earth we live. I love you. You are SO much fun, and so amazingly thoughtful.  I love how brave you are. I love how much we think in sync, how we never have to apologize when we say what we really are thinking or feeling, because the other person already understands.You have made the last two years in DC so memorable. And there are many good times to come!


See you sometime before December. :)

Patience

From the Preach My Gospel manual (I don't know why I love this so much but I do! I've read it over and over again throughout my days and weeks):


Patience is the capacity to endure delay, trouble, opposition, or suffering without becoming angry, frustrated, or anxious. It is the ability to do God's will and accept His timing. When you are patient, you hold up under pressure and are able to face adversity calmly and hopefully. Patience is related to hope and faith-- you must wait for the Lord's promised blessings to be fulfilled.


You need patience in your everyday experiences and relationships, especially with your companion. You must be patient with all people, yourself included, as you work to overcome faults and weaknesses.

Rose window in the cathedral in Strasbourg, Germany. 14th century High Gothic. The earth tones make it one of the most unique rose windows in the world, and my personal favorite.

Rose and Driftwood. Ansel Adams. 1902. Gelatin silver plate.

A Celebration of Ann

I am thankful for the opportunity to pray for my mom today, as part of my "assignment" given to me by my Relief Society teacher. I have been praying for her much more since I've lived out here in DC, but I intend to unleash some really FUN prayers this week on her behalf. I understand her and empathize with her experiences, her pain, her hopes, and her faith so much more when I talk to Heavenly Father about her. Heavenly Father absolutely adores her.

So do I. I have always been a mama's girl. There are people in the world who are meant to be mothers, and my mom was one of those people. You can't imagine what it was like to be raised by such a selfless, imaginative, thoughtful person. I just want to stand up and lead an audience in applause for you, Ann. You did it!!!!!!!!! I can officially say that this week because Katie, our youngest sister, has just graduated high school and will fly the coop in a few weeks. My mom will have finished a large and probably the most physically taxing stage of motherhood. And what an Amazing
Incredible
Inspired
Thoughtful
Sweet
Tender
Courageous 
Effective
job she did!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Is it prideful of me to say she was effective? I say no. My brothers and sisters and I have all gone to college or will shortly, we are as close-knit as they come, and I think they are all pretty cool, sweet, funny, devoted, brave young adults. Mom wins!

Thank you, Mom. You are so beautiful. Let's keep living life together, shall we? One step at a time...

Baby me and mom, at the National Gallery of Art ca. 1987

Ok this isn't even her kid, but it shows how warm she is and how she instantly forms bonds with little people.

I kiss my mother with that mouth, yep.

 Love you mom. Love you, all my friends who are moms. Thanks doesn't really cut it for all the work you do, but thanks nevertheless!!!!!!!!!!

{dragonflies draw flame}

Loving this girl's posts. Feeling like her in many ways. Ironically, only a few weeks after I wrote about being in a place of calm assurance from which perch I benignly assuaged the worries of my friends, I myself have been assaulted with that familiar discomfort that means Heavenly Father wants me to change something about my life, though I don't know what and I don't know when. Just trying to get ready for it, sound out my options. If you are an adult who graduated from college you probably know what I'm talking about. Yeehaw! The following verse went up on Hil's blog this week and it pretty much is how I feel right now (though I am NOT, by any means, into poetry, I like to think I really got the emotions behind this):

As Kingfishers Catch Fire

BY GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS

As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;

As tumbled over rim in roundy wells

Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell's

Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;

Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:

Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;

Selves — goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,

Crying Whát I dó is me: for that I came.

I say móre: the just man justices;

Keeps grace: thát keeps all his goings graces;

Acts in God's eye what in God's eye he is —

Chríst — for Christ plays in ten thousand places,

Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his

To the Father through the features of men's faces.

And because I keep playing these songs over and over to feel a little bit of stability, you can listen too (I'm taking my turn at being like DJ Milan!):

Sensei Cobb

The sweetest thing happened in a stake church meeting today. The visiting general authority spoke of unappreciated blessings in our own backyards, and then, with a happy smile, asked all the primary kids in the audience of 3,000 to stand up. Then he asked them to wave. Parents everywhere hoisted their kids onto their laps or their chairs as they waved to the rest of us. The GA let them wave to us for about 30 seconds or so, eventually inviting the young women and young men of the stake to also stand and wave. He asserted to us adults that we were seeing our own most precious natural resource. I absolutely teared up while watching the sea of little, exuberant hands;  I remember as a little girl being so happy and excited whenever grown-ups would give a shout-out to kids in church. I was always very aware and honored by the idea that I, a child, mattered. In fact, my favorite scripture (the only one I memorized before the required 100 scripture masteries of high-school seminary) was Matthew 18:1-4,

 1 At the same time came the disciples unto Jesus, saying, Who is the ^agreatest in the kingdom of heaven?

 2 And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst of them,

 3 And said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little ^achildren, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.

 4 Whosoever therefore shall ^ahumble himself as this little ^bchild, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven.

Cute little twins walking ahead of me
at the Ghana Embassy this weekend.

I felt the weight of the responsibility to be a good girl, to believe in Jesus and God and to trust them, and to love the people around me: parents, siblings, ward members, etc. Today I was so happy that the kids in my stake could have a moment of recognition and honor, and perhaps come to more fully feel their value.

I passed my one-year "nanniversary" with Cobb in March, and he continues to be a wonderful light in my life. However, I'm starting to covet jobs that actually constitute a career move. Eight more months until the long-awaited Master's degree is in my hand (I'm still hammering out the details of my two and five year plans. No, I'm not going on a mission... but travelling and learning languages is a large, and favorite, part of the plan).

Today I wanted to take a moment to document all of the wisdom I have gleaned fromCobb this year. What a wonderful, brave, kind little soul he is. He's taught me so many things I never would have known if I had been saddled into a desk job and thinking about myself and my own dumb stuff all the time.

Cobb + White House

And so, I present my list of Cobb-born Truths:

- Men are the same whether they are two or thirty-two. They just need hugs, kisses, food, and toys.

- Coming to work in a bad mood is like playing a very, very dangerous game of baby Russian roulette. Little kids have the intuitive ability when faced with cranky grown-ups to either morph into perfectly sweet angels that make your day, or to devolve into tiny monsters who mirror your murky mood and mire you in misery (Neal Maxwell himself couldn't have pieced together a better alliteration! Somewhere, he is so proud of me). Reveal your anger to a toddler at your own risk.

- You do NOT need to be rich to raise a great kid!!!!*

- When in doubt, dispense a snack.

Cobb climbing over the fountains at NMAI

- If you are not a kid person, just remember that even little people are incredibly moved when you show them empathy. This includes getting excited about things that they love (the cartoon on their shoe, the toy in their hand) and crying emphatically with them when the things they love most are taken away (parent, bottle, Curious George,  etc).

- Positive communication/discipline is not only possible, it really does work! Better! Instead of reacting to the bad in Cobb's behavior, I seek hourly to encourage him to do something right and praise the heck out of him when he does. His trust in me has been multiplied many times as a result.

- Afternoon naps are one of the greatest things that you can possibly do with your one o'clock hour.

- When you are in a fight, it's ok to take five and go outside on the porch to practice some very enthusiastic yoga breathing.

- Every day  you have a chance to start over. At least with little kids. Forgiveness is quick and beautiful with them.

-Patience, patience, patience. With kids you have to look at the long run. He might not pick up the word/food/behavior I want him to appreciate and understand right now, but I am laying a great foundation, day in and day out, over years' time. And it's worth it, to make a great little boy into a great young man.

- Don't freak out, talk it out. That's Cobb's parents' motto, and they practice it wholeheartedly as a family. I am so moved by the time they take to talk to me, every day, about their son, my worries, their plans, etc. I want to be as gracious a person to people I associate with/employ as they are to me.

-Finally, this one is just for me and Cobb: I have learned to recognize a glimmer in his eyes, a certain special grin that appears on his face multiple times a day while in the midst of playing. I must stop what I'm doing, sit down on the floor, and he will run at me full-speed and bowl me over with a giant hug. He loves me and wants to show me he loves me and that he is happy. These moments constitute the most precious parts of my week. I'm grateful for the opportunity to hang out with such a sweet little person. I believe Heavenly Father knew what he was doing when he dropped this job into my lap.

 Cobb and I having fun last summer.

*I AM partial to two expensive baby toys that make my life soo much easier: the BoB running stroller and the baby monitors with cameras in them. Take note, all my preggo friends. Also, one thing my boss says she wishes she HADN'T dropped a ton of money on is the baby carrier/car seat. The cheap target one gets the job done just as well as the designer moneybags one.

** This just made me laugh. For any mom out there who feels her education is taking a hit while she takes care of baby... here's a way to learn while you play!

From a sweet story in the Art History Newsletter:

Every good art historian has to know something about museums because that’s where the art is. They used to ask the bank robber, Willie Sutton, why he robbed banks and he said ‘because that’s where the money is stupid!’ And it’s true…There’s a group of art historians today that believe that theory is their province and that they shouldn’t have to deal with things and quite frankly that’s an attitude that has come into graduate schools and it’s just as wrong as wrong can be.

I just want to go on record, AGAIN, by stating how much I HATE working in theory (the writer can put me securely on the list of people who will survive graduate school in love with museums). Give me objects, give me artworks with a past, a present, and a price, every time, for the rest of my career. That's where I work, that's what I love. And guess what, theory-draped art historians out there in your dusty university offices?? Objecthood is the lens through which 98% of humanity discovers interesting and alluring aspects in our precious artworks. Objecthood and stories. It all goes back to these universal, easy-to-understand qualities.

In their pedagogy ('scuse me- in their attempt to create environments of learning) museums are places of empathy. To what degree each institution actually feels and fulfills its capability to be empathetic is a topic of eternal study and debate (and in today's cuthroat non-profit world, it can be a topic of controversy). But in the potential for empathy lies the gradiose possibilities of the public art museum. We all know it. Or at least we should.

A record was broken yesterday when Sotheby's sold a pastel version of Edvard Munch's The Scream  for $119,000,000. Where are these art historians that don't believe art should be spoken of as a thing, again??

MONEY!