The Art of Leaving Things Undone

“A wise man [Lin Yutang, 1937] once distinguished between ‘the noble art of getting things done’ and ‘a nobler art of leaving things undone.’ True ‘wisdom in life,’ he taught, consists of ‘the elimination of non-essentials.’ ”

“What are the nonessential things that clutter your days and steal your time? What are the habits you may have developed that do not serve a useful purpose? What are the unfinished or unstarted things that could add vigor, meaning, and joy to your life?”

President Dieter F. Uchtdorf

The Snickers Bar

Last night I was at Wal-Mart very late. I was on an errand to buy some stuff Rich needs for work, but couldn't find anything on the list. I came home with eight things that were not on my list. Gotta love Wal-Mart. I apologized to the poor Wal-Mart people for being one of crazy people who shop when normal people sleep.

While in the check-out line, my eye caught on a Snickers bar. My first thought was congratulatory. In my 20s, I'd often grab a Snickers at the check-out line and wolf it down on the way to the car. Now that I'm a mother trying to teach my kids to avoid such gluttony, I rarely indulge. I know what's in it, and I know it won't truly make me happy.

But this time the package called to me. Not just a Snickers, but a Fudge Snickers. Only available for a limited time, it said. So I grabbed it and bought it, secretly wondering if perhaps this new flavor of Snickers would make me happy like so many other Snickers before hadn't. I also secretly hoped that perhaps if I did something my 20-something self used to do, then perhaps I would remember what it felt like to be that hopeful girl, still living under the delusion that in my 30s I would be much wiser and disciplined and confident.

News flash: The Fudge Snickers was a disappointment, of course. But it did feel cozy and reminiscent to eat the whole thing with a tall glass of milk, in bed with my book, while the whole house slept in oblivion. Maybe next time I'll get a caramel Snickers and it will do the trick.

"It's Just All Played Out Like a Song"

Rich's Grandma Jane is the embodiment of wisdom and order. When I first spoke to her on the phone after Rich and I got engaged, I could barely understand her thick Texas accent. She can shoot a .22 better than anyone, lived in a tent for a while as a child, and has lived on the farm her husband loves for years and years despite her preference for city life. She read every single book in her high school library, got a college degree, and still devours books on any subject.

She has cared for her dying husband for several months almost entirely on her own. She's the one that came to my rescue after I gave birth to Isaac once my mom left and Rich went back to work. I was an emotional wreck and not recovering very well physically, and she swept in and matter-of-factly met my temporal needs and basically ignored my emotional drama, so I got over it. She did the same thing in the dark days surrounding the loss of our baby Samuel. She can diagnose an illness over the phone better than a doctor in person. She tells you how it is, then gets to work to do something about it.

Two weeks ago her husband Dick passed away in their farmhouse in May, TX at 84 years old. Rich got there about 40 minutes before he passed on, finding Grandma alone with Grandpa, needing him. I sent food for them to eat--leftover soup and lunch meat I had in the fridge. Turns out it was just what she was craving (Amy had tipped me off on that one, but I rarely have lunch meat in the fridge and happened to have bought some the week before). When she told me so on the phone yesterday, she said, "It's just all played out like a song," referring to the people and blessings sent her way at the just the right time by the Lord. I quickly scribbled her poetic words on an envelope, wanting to remember the moment. Later in the conversation when I wondered aloud how my kids end up escaping so many sicknesses, she said blunty, "Well, maybe you're just too stupid to notice, Mindy!" She's not delusional or euphoric, she knows what's what and isn't afraid to say it—one of the many things I love about her. So that's why "It's just all played out like a song" sounded so lovely in my ears. Poetic. Inspiring. The expression of a woman who has been touched by—no, embraced by—the love of the Savior.

Will l be singing that song two weeks after Rich dies many years from now? Earlier, about a week before Grandpa's death, she told me on the phone that the Lord had been filling her every need every step of the way in the past few months. She's all alone now on a farm in the middle of nowhere, and she's happy and peaceful and grateful. How does she do it? How did she get to that point or was she always that way? Is it possible for me to develop such faith, stamina, gratitude and pragmatism in the next fifty years of my life? Or am I missing the amazing genetic material she has and can only hope that my kids have some of it?

Why I Married the Coolest Guy in the World

(In no particular order and by no means exhaustive)

He does the dishes and claims he likes it.

He tells me I look hot in the morning straight out of bed. And then he makes the bed.

He likes it when I do brainy things.

He works hard even when I try to talk him out of it.

He fulfills callings simply, faithfully, and with inspiration.

He eats nearly everything I cook.

He made my laundry space in the garage functional with a ladder, some repurposed plastic containers and a garage sale find.

He took me to the temple and continues to take me there. Sometimes in the temple he looks at me from across the room with "smoldering" eyes, and I melt.

He has really cool ancestors who lived in tents, gave up their land for schools, wrote cowboy poetry, and a grandma who shoots rattlesnakes and rarely cries.

He knows how to talk to people at parties. He talks to our neighbors.

He tells our kids bedtime stories about how things work.

He knows stuff about just about everything.

He builds things out of microchips with Isaac and built the deck with the boys.

He eats ice cream sometimes because I need to.

He's got a great biker body.

He has endless confidence, and knows how to fake it when he doesn't feel it.

He's a great home teacher.

He gives amazing talks in church and at funerals.

He plays with the kids and works with them.

He does the bedtime routine almost every night while I decompress.

He rarely asks what I did all day.

Though sometimes he'd like to have another baby, he's willing to wait for when I'm ready.

He loves and misses his mother.

He can fix just about everything.

Happy 10th Anniversary to Us!

The Lecture

The lecture on the way to school today was directed at the kids, but it was really for me.

Me: "We cannot live like this anymore. We cannot go to bed late, leave our stuff lying around, and lollygag all morning. What are you going to do tomorrow to get to school on time?"

Isaac: "We're going to start today by putting our stuff away when we get home, clean our room, do our homework and put it away."

Yea. How can I expect my children to do the things they should, when I don't? Up until 1 am sewing an apron and watching movies. My stuff lying all over the house. Me lollygagging around instead of doing the things that are expedient for the moment.

How many years must I struggle with myself before I conquer these silly habits? Will I ever grow up? Am I passing along the laziness and avoidance behavior to my children, multiplying it?

Can I Have Some of That?

I'd like some of Katie's discipline, some of Dawn's simplicity and consistency, some of Christa's love for people and laundry skills, some of Grandma's optimism and confidence, some of Nancy's organization, some of Miranda's passion, some of Hilde's poise, some of Mom's daily shower ritual, some of Janielle's clean, some of Cindy's cooking and sewing skills, some of Grandma Key's pragmatism and self-sufficiency, some of Cheri's way with people, some of Tricia's focus on her kids, some of Monica's perspective, some of Ann's teaching abilities, some of Kathy's leadership abilities and order, some of Dad's ability to make conversation with anyone, some of Ross's work ethic, some of Dani's dedication to music and exercise, some of Debbie's belief that tomorrow will be better, some of Aislinn's desire to reproduce, some of Cherie's confidence and competence, some of Rachel's calm, some of Russell's energy and awareness, some of Graham's love for everyone in the world, some of Isaac's motivation and optimism, some of Rich's can-do attitude and forgiveness, some of so many people. But not all. In the end I guess I'd rather be all me, relying on Christ for my strength and improvement because I always seem to get in trouble when I compare myself to others.

November Blast from the Past

So I've been thinking lately about what I was doing this time last year, 5 years ago, 10, 15, 20, 30 (am I that old??). A blast from the past . . .

1 Year Ago: 2008

We spent Thanksgiving in Katy, TX at Katie & Dave's house. Rich's parents were there, and Claudia had just started taking a new chemotherapy drug that made her so sick that she stayed in bed and didn't even have any opinions about how Katie and I cooked Thanksgiving dinner. But when it was time to eat, she got up out of bed, put on the blue skirt I'd bought her in India, and tasted all the food and complimented our work.

That night Ross reviewed with us the details of the family will again, just in case something happened. Rich and I felt creeped out by the gravity of it all, so we watched Joe vs. the Volcano late into the night to escape it all. Within a few weeks she was gone from this earth.

Thanksgiving this year is sad without Claudia, especially being in her kitchen this time, cooking the meal without her again. I made the turkey recipe I made the first time we did Thanksgiving together at our house in Austin in 2001. I could almost hear her generously complimenting my work again. I can still feel her presence palpably sometimes, especially when I am in her house, which is comforting and heart-wrenching all at once.

5 Years Ago: 2004

Before or after Thanksgiving (I can't remember which), we drove to Mississippi in our gray Volvo and cycled the Natchez Trace Parkway with Isaac & Russell on the back of our bikes. We took it at a leisurely pace, camping on some nights, staying in bed & breakfasts on others, enjoying the greenery, the friendly people, and the cotton of the South. We had Thanksgiving that year at the Cutlers, with Amy and James's new baby Max, and Grandma and Grandpa Key and Aunt Liz in town. We stuffed wedding invitations for Katie's upcoming wedding, and went to a wedding shower for her. Right around this time we got pregnant with Graham.

10 Years Ago: 1999

I received my endowments in the Salt Lake Temple. Felt amazed, confused, awed, completed, and accountable. Rich and I were frantically preparing for our wedding the next month, finishing our last semesters at BYU, and getting ready to move to Washington, D.C. I went to dress fittings, tried to get RSVPs for the wedding dinner, and got advice from everyone about our wedding, wedding night, and marriage. We spent long hours late into the night at the library, since that was the place we could stay together the latest in BYU Land. Rich would pass me love notes ("URAQT"), and fall asleep in my lap until the Hawaii 5-0 music would play at midnight that signaled it was time for everyone to go home.

15 Years Ago: 1994

I was in my senior year at Cottonwood High School in Murray, Utah. AP classes, Madrigals, and madly in love with Paul H. I was starting to apply to colleges, facing that giant decision with fear and excitement. Paul and I went to the temple to do baptisms almost every week during our AP Physic study period. Sariah and I wrote long notes to each other during school and cut class sometimes to go to Wendy's to get french fries and frosties.

20 Years Ago: 1989

I had just started the 7th Grade at Union Middle School in Midvale, Utah. I remember feeling invisible most of the time. Melissa Blockburger was my best friend, and I loved my English teacher Mrs. Keddington. I have a picture somewhere of doing a presentation in her class on how to get rid of the hiccups--I was demonstrating drinking water from a cup backwards with a napkin over it. I had frizzy hair, which I remember trying really hard to tame, and looked very awkward.

30 Years Ago: 1979

I was two years old. We had recently moved back to America from England to Indianapolis, Indiana, and my parents must have been so happy to be back in America again for Thanksgiving. Mom had just had a new baby--Mark. I must have either been getting used to not being the center of attention, or loving having a baby around to play with. I suspect it was the former. It was around this time I started exploring the vast world of Pinyon Court on my pink and purple big wheel.