Photo Essay: A Sick Day for Momma

No sick days.  No vacations.  No coffee breaks, lunch hours, or paycheck...And I wouldn't trade it.

Trying to Answer: Why Does God Allow Bad Things to Happen? (part 1 of a 3 part series)

Let me first say:  On the scale from 1-10 of "The Most Horrible Things that Could Happen" I live at a one.  Really.  I haven't known a lot of horror, lucky me.  I've had a few bummers to deal with.  All of us do.  And sometimes circumstances lead us to wonder, "Why does God Allow Bad Things to Happen?"  If he truly is God--all-powerful, all-knowing, omniscient Alpha and Omega--then why?  Why allow the innocent to suffer?  Or evil to go unpunished?  Why the needless destruction and misery?  Why, dear God, is life so unfair?

It's not a new question.  I'm not the first and will certainly not not be the last to wonder what exactly is going on up there in the heavens.  ("Hello, up there...Anybody home?")  It's a fundamental question of anyone of faith.  My own religious faith is so much a part of my guiding voice that I can not examine these questions without referring to it.

As a part of my faith, I believe that we lived with God before ever coming to earth, and I believe the answer begins there in this premortal existence.  There we were first given and exercised our agency--the ability to act according to the moral agency which God gives us and to be accountable for those choices. 

We lived with a loving Father, whose goal was and is to see us progress in light, understanding, and knowledge, so that we could become like Him and live with Him forever.  To do this we needed experience.  And Father set forth a plan where we would come to earth, receive a body, choose to act between good and evil, and progress.  Our agency was central to that plan.

The Book of Mormon 2 Nephi chapter 2 is an outstanding lesson on the gift of agency, and I'll borrow from it liberally to explain.  If we had not been given the ability to choose "we would have remained in a state of innocence, having no joy, for we would know no misery.  Doing no good, for we would know no sin."  And so God--knowing we would hurt, loved us enough to want us to grow and allowed us to act for ourselves, which would be impossible except that we be enticed by the one or the other.  Therefore, it needs be that there is an opposition in all things.  Righteousness could not be brought to pass, neither wickedness, neither holiness nor misery, neither good nor bad.  And so it needs be that all of these things--both the light and the dark--should be part of this existence.  Without this opposition there would be no choice, and without choice no agency, and without agency no progress.  And then the whole point of our existence here would be frustrated; we and the earth would be been created for a thing of naught; wherefore there would have been no purpose in the end of its creation.  It would have destroyed the wisdom of God and his eternal purposes as well as His power, and mercy, and justice.

This world was put in place to be the best learning lab for each of us. Yes, it is imperfect, and unjust, and unfair, but in all of that it is the perfect place for us to learn discernment, to practice choice, and to determine our responses to circumstances not of our choosing. I am not convinced that God "sends" any hardship into our lives, but I know that he created a place where they would certainly be encountered.


This opportunity we have been given to face opposition may be the most meaningful expression of God's belief in us.  Marion D. Hanks said that "He loves us and believes in us and has done and will do anything He can to help us, but He will not impose on our agency.  God so loved that He would not shield us from the perils of freedom, from the right and responsibility to choose.  So deep is His love and so precious that principle the He, who was conscious of the consequences required that we choose...freedom is precarious, difficult, but we had learned that the alternatives to love and freedom of choice cannot provide the climate for growth and creative capacity that can eventually lead us to a a stewardship like our Father's."

Why does God allow bad things to happen? Because he loves us. He knew we would hurt. That sometimes we would fail. That we would lose those we loved. He could keep us safe, but he loves us enough to let us go, to let us live, to let us learn, to let us grow.

(to be continuted...)

Retreating

Blogging for 4 years has revealed some things to me about myself.  The first being my consistency for inconsistency...but I already knew that, so that's not really a revelation.  But what I didn't know about myself is that when life punches me in the gut--or even jabs with its left a little--I retreat somewhere inside myself.  Not forever, but for a little while.

When the earth suddenly shifts, I am not ready to talk about it.  Not really to anyone.  Not in depth.  I just need to think.  To find that sure place inside me while the initial shock sorts out and the remaining dust settles around me.  That's where I've been for a little while.  Someplace quiet, waiting for things to settle.

We are in the midst of job changes again.  AGAIN.  (Argh)  Poor Mr. Wicke is the hardest working man I know, but these last few years have been a struggle.  (What?  Not just us?)  This time, due to government cutbacks (which we support, by the way) the research project of which he has been apart for Homeland Security--which was supposed to be a 6-year $4 million dollar grant--disappeared with government cutting educational research by 81%.  For us that means that about half of our income disappeared with it.  We have about 6 months to figure this out.

Did you feel the earth shift?  Shhhh...I need to think.

I've even gotten a little quiet with God.  Probably not a great thing, but like I told Him in prayer, I don't know how to pray about this any more.  I'm tired...and the words get all jumbled up with frustration.  I'm figuring it out in that quiet place inside me.  When I get clear, I will be ready to speak.  Maybe that is what all this quiet is about...just listening.  Hearing in the stillness.

Or maybe it's pride...
and anger...

Maybe it's all of it all at the same time.  That's what I mean about settling.  I'm waiting to see what remains when all those emotions fall away and I can hear my guiding voice again.  It's still there.  Somewhere inside myself.

Help Wanted

I have been asked to present a short class in October about fun and unique ways to do or participate in family history (aka genealogy/family lineage.)  I hope they are serious about fun and unusual ways, because I don't know a thing about serious genealogy.  I do, however, have a love for family stories, family recipes, old family pictures, and capturing today's moments for tomorrow.  That'll be my focus.  I think.  I haven't figured it all out.  That's where you come in: 

Do you have any ideas that you would like to share?  Or opinions?  I'd love to hear them. 

The Entrepreneurial Spirit/How to Raise a Capitalist

Yes.  She came up with the catch phrase "The Best in the West."  She knows a little something about advertising.

Well.  I was right.  The lemonade stand left me exhausted.  For those of you with Facebook friends from Arizona, you know it is still a million degrees here.  At least.  I find any excuse to avoid leaving the house, so Friday afternoon's many, many, many, trips outdoors (I knew it was coming) was slight torture.  By the end I was a sweaty, dehydrated mess.  I was so exhausted that my idea of making dinner was pulling leftovers out of the fridge and serving them on paper plates.  (Lucky Mr. Wicke.)

But this little girl?  Happy.  Gorgeously happy.

She was so cute pulling out the table, setting up the umbrella, getting her supply wagon all ready to go.  She took it really seriously.  No kidding around. 

And, can you believe she made $21.00???  What?  Selling glasses of lemonade and cookies for 25 cents each? 

I'd post more, but I've got to get outside and get a lemonade stand set up.  Forget the kids.  I need some bookshelves for my bedroom!

MOTY, Here I Come!

So...I don't know if anyone's noticed, but I have been posting like a real blogger lately.  Real regular and everything.  I haven't done 11 posts in one month in at least a year and a half.  If I could chart that phenomenon in concert with my baby's age, I think we might see some connection.  That's just a theory.  I can't prove it because I don't know how to use Excel...or whatever program would make a chart like that.  I just learned how to use Picasa.  I am on a need to no basis with technology.

But that's not what I meant to be posting about.  What I started to say is that I have been posting like a real blogger.  I even included pictures.  Any day now I am going to get my own TV show like The Pioneer Woman, I'm pretty sure of it.

But not today.  Nope.  'Cause today I am busy trying to win mother of year.  (Would somebody please nominate me already?)  Here's what I'm busy doing instead of blogging like a real big time blogger.  (Thank you to the 5 people who read my blog, by the way.)  I am making lemonade and chocolate chip cookies this morning because Logan insists on running a lemonade stand the minute she gets off the bus.  She passed out fliers and everything, and I have to have the table "ready to go!"  Her goal is to make enough money to buy the yoga dog calendar from the school fundraiser catalogue.  A mother of the year doesn't mess with dreams like that, so I am going to have those cookies baked, gosh darn it!

Then I have to get the baby down for his nap at 1:00 pm sharp (I am sure this will run smoothly, of course) so he will sleep while Mr. Wicke works from home so that I can go to school and volunteer in Logan's classroom.  I ran into her teacher while making copies at the school for the PTSO Smoothie Fundraiser today (seriously, where is that nomination?) and she mentioned how she needs files organized and a bulletin board done...and well, I happen to be really gifted at bulletin boards.  (Ahem, I think that is a qualification category for MOTY--that's Mother of the Year to lay people.)  But seriously, I can really rock a bulletin board.  I don't know if that's an actual major at college, but if it were...Master's program, here I come!

Anyway, after that, I'm going to rush right home, and make sure everything is ready to go so that I can spend the next hour making a thousand trips between the house and the front yard while being bossed around by the lemonade stand coordinator.  Then I'll spend the hour after that cleaning up, after which I will make dinner and clean that up, too.  And if I don't get nominated by then, well, then I guess I have no other choice but to go back to being a big time blogger (hi mom!) because this mothering gig is wearing me out.

And that is why I am not writing a real post today or including pictures.  Ah nuts!  There went my TV show!

Pants

This morning Griffin's pants were too short.  And when I say pants, I mean  ALL of his pants.  What started with "Hey Griff, I have some bad news..."

"What?"

"Your pants are too short.  You're going to have to change them.  I know.  I know.  But it's your own fault.  You grew last night.  Stop doing that."

...turned into a minor fashion show in his bedroom.

"Nope.  Those are too short, too."

"What about these?"

"Yeah.  Those should work.  I think I just bought those...What?!  They are too short, too?  What size are they?  They are size eight.  They should fit.  Are you pulling them up to your armpits?  No?  Alright.  That's it.  You are in big trouble, mister!  How dare you grow out of all your pants?!"

At this point, his sister joined us.  "Am I in trouble, too?"

"Yes.  As a matter of fact you are both in very big trouble because neither of you will listen to me.  How many times do I have to say it?  STOP GROWING!"  They love this monologue.  They think it is soooo funny, and what good am I if I can't be funny once in a while.

"We can't help it!" they argue.

"Oh, really!  Well then I'll just have to take matters into my own hands, won't I?  Maybe I'll make you walk around with something super heavy on your heads.  That'll do it.  Ooh yeah, and then I'll chain some cannon balls to your ears.  So what if you're a hunchback?  I gotta' do what I gotta' do if you're not going to listen already..."  I could do this bit all day.

Except that I have to go buy my guy some pants... 

You know what they say about a joke.  That there is a germ a truth at the heart of it?  Well, there is that teeny tiny (not so tiny) part of me that really does wish they would stop growing--just for a minute--and let me catch my breath already.  Does it really have to go this quickly?  Most of the time I feel like their childhood is water running through my fingers, when I just want to catch it, hold onto it, and admire it for a minute.

Last spring, when I attended Women's Conference, singer/songwriter Hillary Weeks shared a little phrase during her performance that has tumbled around in my brain since then.  She said that over the breakfast table one morning, the thought occurred to her that we are privileged to know our children as children.

And she's right.  I am privileged to know these little people.  They will be adults before I know it.  They will spend the majority of their lives in big bodies with big problems and big worries.  But for now, I get to witness their joy and, perhaps, their spirits in their purest forms, before the awkwardness of teenage years, before the struggle of adulthood.  I get to witness hope undefiled.  I get to witness faith without cynicism.  I get to witness love without conditions.  I get to witness their childhood.

I only wish it lasted a bit longer.