Can life get better than this?

I started this blog very, very reluctantly and skeptically just over two years ago. It's not my journal. I'm not keeping a record of my kids' growing up for my kids. I keep track of roughly how many people stop here, but those numbers don't matter to me.

One day my grandmother emailed me to find out how things were going and asked me if I had a blog, because she loved seeing pictures of my cousins' kids on their blogs. Very shortly after that, I started uploading pictures and writing little synopses for my grandmother.

Recently, three of my children's great-grandmothers have told me that they stop here frequently and enjoy seeing how our family looks, what we are doing, and how the children are growing.

When I first logged on to start blogging, I got to one of the first steps: name your blog. I sat at the computer for a few minutes and then gave up. A few days later I decided on a name, not because it reflects what my life is like every moment of every day, but because when I really think about what I'm doing during this season of my life, and what I may wish I were doing at this moment, and I am very honest with myself, there really is nothing of substantive importance that I would rather be doing.

In the past few days especially, turning my thoughts to complaining seems to come a little quicker than thinking of all I have to be grateful for. But every time I look at my own blog, I am faced with the question, "Can life get better than this?" And every time, I already have the answer, "I submit that it cannot."

Weighty responsibilities outside of my family are temporary, opportunities to grow and learn more about myself and who I would like to be, and ways for my children to learn about serving others and sacrifice.


Prolonged periods of working towards and waiting for more stability in temporal matters are also temporary, opportunities to develop and demonstrate faith, self-reliance, and skills that are necessary for any season of life. And I have to laugh at my past self.

Before I was married, I figured I had probably missed my opportunity to be a poor, starving, young married couple, whose lean days early on helped them grow closer together and develop a strong foundation for the rest of their marriage. I was disappointed that I would probably marry someone my own age, also finished with school, working, or that I would never marry, and that I wouldn't get to experience those character- and marriage-forging moments.


Then I met Jack. We are not starving, but we are definitely poor. And we have definitely had some trials by fire, with more to come, I expect. Be careful what you wish for.


All I really need to be happy is to remember, as a friend so beautifully puts it, that I am my children's (and my husband's) home. I have come to appreciate and love the idea of making a home.


I worked several summers during college and after my mission as a counselor for the BYU Continuing Education Department's Especially For Youth program. I heard a counselor say "I wish I could be an EFY counselor for the rest of my life." The session coordinator's response was something to the effect of, no you don't. You want to go on with your life, have your own family, and make every day like EFY for your own children.

I wish I could say that I have gotten to that point, and every day at my house is as fun, exciting, uplifting, motivating, and filled with learning and spiritual growth as a day at EFY. But let's face it. I'm not just the counselor. I'm also the cafeteria, laundry, first aid station, and security. I teach classes, give devotionals and firesides, and organize transportation. We do have our EFY moments, though.

I know could be a better mom. I could be a better wife. I could be a better housekeeper and homemaker. I could be a better lot of things.

But all things considered, with what I've been given to work with (my own self included), and the help I am offered constantly through the Savior's perfect grace, can life get better than this?

I submit that it cannot.