Frogs....?

Growing up I had the opportunity to go on many hikes.  It would be a fair statement to say that I loved nature (still do) and would spend as much time as possible outside.  Many thought it was to avoid chores, and perhaps that was in the mix, however, I just loved the sights and sounds of being outdoors.

Early in the school year, during my 3rd grade year, I was transferred from one school to another due to a boundary change to help with overcrowding.  Even though the new school was a rather long walk, I didn't mind for most of  the year as the neighborhoods I walked through were owned mostly by older people, and the yards were beautiful.  However I hated the new school.  My only solace came at lunch time when I would take my home-packed lunch and walk the couple blocks to the church (you could do that then because lunch was an hour long, and you didn't have to stay at school, many went home for lunch and came back for the afternoon part of school.) Behind the church was the most wonderful creek called the most boring name....City Creek.

I would sit at the edge of the creek, in my own world, watching the water as it tumbled over the rocks, sounding like tiny silver bells, when occasionally a small frog would jump up and surprise me.  I would laugh and yes, I would talk with the frog as if it could talk back.  I would make little beds for them out of the moss and leaves beside the creek, playing with them as I would play later that night with my Barbie at home.  It was my own small secret world filled with joyful splashing water, pretty little flowers, the twig and moss fairy homes I had made, and frogs.

As I got to know some of the other girls at school, I would invite them to come and have lunch with me.  However when the little frogs would jump out of the creek, these silly girls would screech and scream.  I would roll my eyes and unfortunately the screech usually meant the end of a budding friendship for me.  Eventually I stopped inviting silly girls to my beautiful creek and vowed that when I became a mom, I would teach my daughters that nature was something beautiful, not something to be screamed at.

Just a little over 10 years ago that I met a new friend.  She isn't like those silly little girls who screeched and screamed when a cute little frog appears.  She adores frogs.  Her love of frogs extends so far into her life that she surrounds herself with them.  One day I asked her "Why frogs?"  My good friend Geri Crumb taught me a valuable lesson that day.  She said that frogs for her is a physical representation for an acronym.  F.R.O.G.

When I see a cute little frog, no matter if it is in nature or in a picture I always think of my friend Geri, yet in my mind, I hear "Fully Rely On God!"

Knitting, Writing and the Atonement....

 As a knitter, there have been many times when I have had to rip out my work: sometimes a few stitches-sometimes many rows or even the entire project because of mistakes made while knitting.  A stitch may have been made in the wrong place, or my count may have been off, perhaps even by only a stitch or two.  However several rows later when increases or decreases have been made, this can make a huge difference so I rip the work out...I call it frogging it..and begin again.

While in school, I took a writing class to help me write better papers.  This became more important the farther I went in collage.  This process began with research and usually a thesis statement, then a rough draft...or a first writing.  After the rough draft, I would usually let the paper sort of sit a day or two, and for lack of a better word, marinate in my brain a bit.  Then came the revisions.  Sometimes I would only revise my papers once and feel that all was well and it was ready to be turned in.  Other times I would agonize over the paper, looking for more quotes and doing more research before the final rewrite.  In both instances I received good grades for my writing and I was pleased. 

I was reading my scriptures, pondering the topic of the atonement when the thought came to me that like my knitting and writing, our Savior gives us a chance to revise or rip out our mistakes through repentance.  He blesses our lives by being there...right beside us, directing our paths.  There is no pain that he does not understand.  No illness that he cannot comprehend.  He has been there.  He knows!  Because He knows, and because He has paid the price, we can return to our Heavenly Father and live again.  But the atonement isn't just for the future.  It is for right now.  It is for everyday.  I know that my Savior lives.  He lifts me up with I am down.  He walks beside me and helps me through my everyday, ordinary things and blesses me with miracles each and every day.