Callista gave a talk in Primary on Sunday. Here is one of her practices. She was very nervous. I was so proud that she staved off the giggles and the tears. She only needed a bit of help. With our life so crazy right now she only practiced the talk for a couple days. The poor little lamb kept saying, "Mommy, when will we be writing my talk?"

A Work in Progress

The absolute best part of this performance are her smiles and finish. Talk about gusto!

She can play this piece much better. She will be performing it again in 3 months at her next recital and for a piano competition.

Veteran's Day

Brent and I have differ and agree in our opinions on the Armed Services. He argues it is no longer a service because the military is paid. They voluntarily sign up, no longer a conscription or sacrifice of time and talents. I disagree. In my eyes it is still a service their pay is no way compensatory to the risk they run of losing their lives.

He and I both agree our country is imposing a specific way of life and government on others which may not mesh with their cultural and religious ideals. We seem to have become a self righteous. In war there is no right side. Everyone is a loser. Regardless of motives or results, war does not please or serve God, only the enemy of all righteousness. There is always a better way. I haven't always felt this way. I used to think you could be on the "right side" in a war. No longer.

Here is a little clip from Ellery's Veteran's Day program with the Elementary School Choir she is a part of.

We also agree our current wars are not defensive but aggressive. I have to believe most soldiers feel they truly are defending freedom and the "American" way of life, they feel is so threatened. They are innocent of motives of greed and power that may underlie things at a higher level.

I was born with my Dad's rosy glasses. Sometimes they serve me well. Other times they don't.

I wish our resources were diverted elsewhere, instead of building up the military-industrial complex. I am a far greater advocate for peace than I used to be. I remember feeling glued to the television, waiting to find weapons of mass destruction. Disillusionment has overtaken my zealousness. Far too many times I am wrong about things to be so bold as to try and impose my way of life on someone else. There are far too many good, peaceable people in the world of all faiths and political ideologies for me to be to pompous and think my vision of the world is correct.

Warm Pasta Salad

In household with no meat and very little dairy, pasta salads are a staple. Winter doesn't have to end the enjoyment. This particular salad is served warm, with crisp, slightly warmed vegetable. It is key to this winter salad not to overcook the vegetables. The zucchini is added raw. It softens just enough when mixed with the hot noodles. If you don't usually use whole grain noodles try them on this recipe! The nutty, earthy flavor of the whole wheat compliments the walnuts perfectly.

But one of my favorite thing about this pasta salad is my children can pick through it quite easily. One doesn't really like the olives, the other doesn't prefer nuts. They just work around it. It tastes great with all the flavors blended together, but is mild enough to be enjoyed by even fussy children.

Unless of course we are talking about Emmett who really won't eat anything on any given day.

Warm Winter Pasta Salad

(From the "Very Vegetarian Cookbook")

12 oz whole wheat rotelle

12 thin asparagus spears

2 small zucchini's, chopped

3 green onions, chopped

1/2 green olives or kalamata, quartered

1/2 c chopped walnuts

parmesan cheese

real salt and fresh ground pepper

extra virgin olive oil

Cook pasta as per directed. Toast walnuts in a cast iron pan for several minutes on medium high heat. Steam or blanch asparagus for 2-3 minutes. Immerse in ice water. Cut in 1 inch pieces. Drain but do not rinse pasta. Pour olive oil over pasta. Toss with parmesan cheese to taste (I just use a few tablespoons of a strong fresh cut for flavor). Stir in zucchini, asparagus, olives, green onions and walnuts. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Roasted Butternut Squash Soup

A rainy day, a Saturday filled with raking leaves, pulling down dead limbs from trees ready to slumber, these all reminded me of my favorite savory, fall squash soup. I came across the inspiration for this soup at a sampling table at my local grocer almost 6 years ago. I've tweaked it a bit over the years as my cooking and dietary habits evolve. Here is my most recent version.

Roasted Butternut Squash Soup

1 head garlic

Extra virgin Olive Oil

SeaSalt and Freshly Ground Pepper

1 bunch fresh sage

2 medium onions, quartered

4 carrots, quartered

2 ribs celery, quartered

2 T maple syrup (honey or agave work as well), divided

2 lbs butternut squash, peeled, seeded, and quartered

1 quart organic vegetable stock

½ c cream (optional)

Preheat oven to 300 degrees.

Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper and drizzle extra virgin olive oil on.

Place garlic cloves, onions, carrots, celery, and squash onto the parchment paper.

Drizzle with more olive oil, 1 T maple syrup and sprinkle with sea salt and ground pepper.

Let the vegetables roast until edges brown and squash is tender, about 2 hours. You can slow or speed this process by modifying the temperature.

When vegetables are roasted, remove from oven. Squeeze garlic out of skins and use a knife to remove the squash skin.

In a large pot, add the broth, remaining maple syrup and chopped sage. Bring to a low boil and add roasted vegetables.

Lower the heat and simmer, uncovered, about 20 minutes.

If you have an immersible stick blender, puree the soup in the pot.

Otherwise, let the soup cool and working in batches, puree it in a food processor or blender.

I prefer a very smooth texture and use my Blendtec.

Refrigerate soup overnight. Usually we have some the first day too! Just before serving, return soup to a pot and bring to a simmer.

Add cream if desired, or just have some on the table, and salt and pepper to taste.

Garnish with cream and sage leaves.

This is best served with my Scrumptious Honey Whole Grain Cornbread. My children and husband had gobbled the entire pan, save a scant row, before the soup was on the table. They finished off the rest for breakfast this morning.

Denver Road Trip

Somethings we have to do as Mothers and Fathers, just about rip our hearts out. In fact, they can be downright painful. We wish so much we could trade places, and understanding with our little ones. We want to wrap our arms around them at the right moment and find the right words to talk them out of a locked bathroom at the hospital. The last 5 months have been that way with my big girl...

...and my baby girl.

Thankfully, this little boy is just happy to be alive and doesn't seem to know too much about what has been going on.

And this one, I worry about too. For so many different reasons. I don't worry about bronchiectasis and lung transplants, but I worry about the burden of being the only "healthy one." My sweet little pip who, hasn't needed a doctor since she was 6 months old.

Life took us to Denver last week. We packed 4 kids and Grandma in the car and headed through the mountains. Denver is the closest Center of Excellency for Pulmonolgy, and more specifically PCD. A presenting pulmonologist, I met in St. Louis at the PCD Conference, practices at Denver Kids. We spoke at length about the children. With his, and our local pulmonologist's blessing we took all three children out to Denver to participate in a diagnostic research study.

What seems "non-invasive" to an adult can be petrifying to a child. We spent 9 hours at the hospital on Thursday. We came close to falling apart at the end of the day, but we muddled through it somehow. Holding your child and whispering comfort as they are bound tightly in a blanket lying on a table is wretched. As Ellery and Emmet, each in turn, looked up at me sobbing with fear filled eyes, I barely held it together. Thankfully that procedure was only minutes.

These visits are hardest on Ellery. She is so smart, she isn't fooled for a moment about what is going on. She listens and absorbs. We know she is internalizing this, and I feel so unequipped to know the right way to help her process all this information.

Beyond the emotional stress, she has been battling severe ear pain for two months now. Her clogged tube is unresponsive to oral and topical antibiotics. Finally, this week her tube will be replaced and hopefully that will offer her some relief.

I felt the trip was successful.

Most telling was a test which measure Nitric Oxide levels in their nose. This one was a little fun, because with a squishy probe up their nose, they got to blow on party favors. This specific test is not available in Utah. Actually all four children were tested. A person with PCD is likely to have levels below 100, while the average person has levels above 800. Sure enough, Ellery, Emmett, and Berkeley averaged between 25-35, while Callista topped out in the 900's. I guess that particular test works.

Ellery's lung damage is consistent with Primary Ciliary Dyskinesia (PCD). Her right middle lobe and the corresponding area in her left lung both show significant damage, and permanent collapse. Her lower lobes are beginning to show signs of bronchiectasis, a permanent widening and damaging of the airways. However, her lung function remains excellent! Her body has found ways to compensate. These results from her CT scan were not better and not worse than what the doctor sees from PCD children of comparable age.

We had reassuring news from Emmett's x-ray. It showed no significant abnormalities. He will receive a CT scan here in Utah however, so all the doctors have a firm grasp on the progression of his disease.

The visit reaffirmed, PCD is a disease not well understood, even by the specialists. There were no good answers to my biggest questions. Those questions that weigh silent and heavy in my mind. What will life look like for Ellery, for Emmett, for Berkeley in 15 years? In 30 years? In 60 years? Will there even be 60 years? No answers.

And so I try to take hope because they don't have cystic fibrosis. I try to take hope as they are growing and developing into beautiful, unique individuals. I try to take hope they will be "lucky ones" not on a lung transplant list, or at least never needing their turn when their name comes up. I try to take hope that they aren't in the hospital dealing with pneumonia or psuedomonas or mycobacteria. I have much to be grateful for.

Now... on a lighter note...

A highlight of the trip was spending time with my kindred spirit Jessica. We ate dinner in her home (and that is truly what it felt like, not just a place a mom, dad and kids live), used her washing machine, laid out on the couch, and watched the children play. Our visit ended with a joint trip to the children's museum.

I love that not a single child in this picture is looking at the camera. Classic.

I wish I could spend hours upon end as a fly on her wall observing the tender, instructive way she interacts with her children. I have so much to learn from her.

And a final note...

Nothing against Berkeley, but I told Brent, I think I should have stopped at 3 children. This trip seemed to reinforce, I am teetering on becoming a frazzled, out-of-control mother. I cannot be on time for anything anymore, I seem to forget about every responsibility I have, and Emmett called 911 in the hotel room (remember this was right after we checked into the hotel with the children's hospital rate). Disaster.

My mom was so helpful and wonderful to have with us. She tagged along everywhere without complaining. We couldn't have done it without her. We even got to share a laugh on the ride home. Ellery gazing out the window cries out with excitement, "Daddy, Daddy, did you just see those two horses? There was a horse on another horses back. Dad can you believe that? What was that silly horse doing?" The adults in the car couldn't stop laughing. Poor Ellery was so adamant, she thought we didn't believe her. We didn't share with her why we couldn't stop snickering. We will save that lesson for another day!

Starting Early

Emmett: Checking out the ladies at the Roller Rink

...or as Brent said, maybe it was the bike.

Sunday Insights:Thoughts from Socrates

Now that I have few moments here and there (Berkeley is still sleeping like a dream on her new schedule), I thought I would try to put down some of my religious musings again. The danger behind this is that I expose my ever changing, or maybe evolving, ideas. I think I believe as Socrates said,

"As for me, all I know is that I know nothing." Republic

It just seems that way sometimes. The more I read and study and learn, the more I realize I really just don't know anything. I feel so inconstant. A precarious personality attribute. It makes me feel I am balancing on a fine line of being faithful to new truth, and being blown about by every whim. Which leads me to my second Socratic thought for the day,

"The unexamined life is not worth living." Apology

I can't say I wholly agree with this, because I do feel life is precious gift from God worth living, no matter the costs. But I think I understand what he was saying. I was listening to an interview this last week and the interviewee altered this quote slightly to mean,

The unexamined religion is not worth following.

This struck a chord somewhere inside me, because a deep examining is precisely where Brent and I find ourselves. I can only speak for myself because while our faith intricately connects us, it is very individual as well.

A note on authoritarianism....

I think it is important to note, looking back, this journey began as I found myself questioning the authoritarian model of understanding I have always leaned so heavily upon since youth. As I became disillusioned politically, my faith in mainstream anything started to fail me. The newspaper, television, books, the internet. But a conundrum arises. I cannot discover everything experientially or first hand. Therefore, there must be a place for authoritarianism in defining my personal ethos. I have to trust in the expertise of others in some circumstances. The question becomes, which authority do I trust? This dilemma arises in questions of nutrition, economics, politics, religion... basically anything that is important to me.

This post starts a series of posts pertaining to my examination of my religion.

I begin with a caveat: Somethings I do know experientially.

I know I have had the experience the scriptures describe as being "born again," or "becoming a new creature in Christ." I was 15 years old. I will never forget the circumstances, the overwhelming emotions, the understanding welling in my mind, the connection with the Savior. It was a grounding experience. Powerful enough to carry me through whatever trials of faith come.

Immediately following this came a similar experience regarding the Book of Mormon. Whatever questions I may run into about its origins or historicity, I know it is the word of God as revealed to Joseph Smith.

What these two experiences solidify in my mind is the reality of personal revelation. I think this is where the crux of my belief must lie. As my authoritarian view of life has crumbled and led to close examination of so many things, it has opened my mind quite a bit. Now my attempt is to seek for truth. Not truth as someone has already explained it to me. It is daunting, and even exhausting, but crucial. I feel I have a jump start, because some things I already know.

I also know a life of faith and devotion to the Savior, family, and the LDS church are for me. It is what I want for myself and my children. This search doesn't feel like an issue of losing or shaking my foundational faith. But instead, a reexamination of the origins of my religion, who and what I place my faith in, and what the doctrines of my religion truly are.

Here are some of the things I am working through, in no particular order of relevance...

the nature of God,

grace versus works,

the atonement,

polygamy,

prophets and apostles,

doctrine versus culture,

blacks and the priesthood,

women and the priesthood,

homosexuality,

authority,

changes in the Book of Mormon,

evolution...

It is both invigorating and challenging. I think that non-comprehensive list is enough to last me for quite some time.

Cyclops Potatoes a Healthy Halloween Meal

In an effort to reduce the junk fest of Halloween, this year I am bringing these Cyclops Twice Baked Potatoes to the annual family party. Simple, simple, simple.

I baked my potatoes at 350 degrees for an hour. Scooped them out. The insides I mixed with 1 cup of keifer and a little garlic and salt. Refilled and grated a small amount of raw cheddar cheese on top. The eyeballs are olives and the veins are red pepper slices. I also dashed on paprika. Bake again at 425 degrees until golden.

I also thought sun dried tomatoes would work well and smaller potatoes like yukon golds or little red potatoes.

Happy Spooking!

Save Nick's Eyes

Twenty-four years old and going blind. Not exactly what anybody expects to hear. Last week, Brent's friend and work colleague found out he has a degenerative eye disease, which has almost blinded his left eye, and is aggressively attacking the other. Brent began talking about this talented kid they brought on board around a year ago. With intense talent, vision and heart, he has been the impetus in bringing a new brand to market. However, all this is done with his eyes. First and foremost Nick is an artist.

I can only try to imagine the devastation. He needs immediate surgery to preserve his right eye. The surgery is not FDA approved (thus his good health insurance is useless) and only a couple places in the US perform it. This is Nick's only chance to prevent complete blindness. A $20,000 price tag is daunting, and enough for all of us to try and do what we can to help Nick and his wife surmount this mountain.

A few days ago, a campaign began in full force to Save Nick's Eyes. You can purchase a t-shirt, or just donate if you want. From all the generous souls out there, $7,000 dollars has been raised. It cuts a dent, but they need more. Nick, did a little info video where you can hear his story and all about the disease. (It is a heartfelt 7 minutes.) Click on the link below to watch and donate.

Video and Website Link

Pick up a $20 t-shirt if you can, but most importantly link to the website so you can help spread the word. Thanks in advance!

The website address is www.demondirt.com

Yoga Master

She's thinking about opening a studio soon.

Halloween Poems

Seasonal poems are always a favorite around our house. Here are our favorite spooky poems this year.

I have some cute videos of the girls saying these poems but they wouldn't upload properly. I'll see if I can't them to do them again tomorrow.

SOMEONE

by Walter del la Mare

Someone came knocking

At my wee, small door,

Someone came knocking,

I’m sure--sure--sure;

I listened, I opened,

I looked to left and right,

But nought there was a-stirring

In the still dark night.

Only the busy beetle

Tap-tapping in the wall,

Only from the forest

The screech-owls’s call,

Only the cricket whistling

While the dew drops fall,

So I know not who came knocking,

At all, at all, at all.

This poem is really fun, we just memorized the first stanza.

THE WITCH OF WILLOWBY WOOD
Rowena Bennett

There once was a witch of Willowby Wood,
and a weird wild witch was she, with hair that was snarled
and hands that were gnarled, and a kickety, rickety knee.
She could jump, they say, to the moon and back,
but this I never did see.

Now Willowby Wood was near Sassafras Swamp,
where there's never a road or a rut.
And there by the singing witch-hazel bush
the old woman builded her hut.
She builded with neither a hammer or shovel.
She kneaded, she rolled out, she baked her brown hovel.

For all witches' houses, I've oft heard it said,
are made of stick candy and fresh gingerbread.
But the shingles that shingled this old witch's roof
were lollipop shingles and hurricane-proof,
too hard to be pelted and melted by rain.
(Why this is important, I soon will explain.)

One day there came running to Sassafras Swamp
a dark little shadowy mouse.
He was noted for being a scoundrel and scamp.
And he gnawed at the old woman's house
where the doorpost was weak and the doorpost was worn.
And when the witch scolded, he laughed to her scorn.

And when the witch chased him, he felt quite delighted.
She never could catch him for she was nearsighted.
And so, though she quibbled,
he gnawed and he nibbled.
The witch said, "I won't have my house take a tumble.
I'll search in my magical book for a spell.
I can weave and a charm I can mumble
to get you away from this nook.
It will be a good warning to other bad mice,
who won't earn their bread but go stealing a slice."

"Your charms cannot hurt," said the mouse, looking pert.
Well, she looked in her book and she waved her right arm,
and she said the most magical things.
Till the mouse, feeling strange, looked about in alarm,
and he found he was growing some wings.

He flapped and he fluttered the longer she muttered.
"And now, my fine fellow, you'd best be aloof,"
said the witch as he floundered around.
"You can't stay on earth and you can't gnaw my roof.
It's lollipop hard and it's hurricane-proof.
So you'd better take off from the ground.
If you are wise, stay in the skies."

Then in went the woman of Willowby Wood,
in to her hearthstone and cat.
There she put her old volume up high on the shelf,
and framed her hot face with her hat.
Then she said, "That is that!
I have just made a bat!"