Life is made in moments that that your breath away

We laughed
Until we had to cry
And we loved
Right down to our last goodbye
We were the best
I think we'll ever be
Just you and me
For just a moment

Time goes on
People touch and then they're gone
And you and I
Will never love again
Like we did then

Someday, when we both reminisce
We'll both say
There wasn't too much we missed
And through the tears
We'll smile when we recall
We had it all
For just a moment

Jack & Grief

Recently, after President Hinckley died, Jack started to think about his great-grandparents. As Jack was laying in bed tonight, he wondered how old Great-grandpa Ira is. When I told him Ira is now 88 years old, Jack was thrilled because it meant that Ira has 12 years left to live.

I'm not sure where Jack got the idea that people "get" 100 years to live, but he believes it in his heart. We had a long discussion about how long people "get" in their lives, and that Uncle Dave only got 24, and President Hinckley only got 97. I also told him that grandpa's lungs aren't healthy and that they hurt all the time and that grandpa probably won't get 12 more years.

Jack's sensitive soul is sore tonight. I remember when I realized that people died, and Jack has been dealing with death for almost 3 years. He is now worrying that we won't get to see Ira this summer, and he cried because Vivian will be so lonely without Ira. His sweetness touches me.

Being a parent is so up and down. Earlier today, I was feeling very Joan Crawford. There are many days I feel like wicked-no-wire-hangers-Crawford when my goal in life is to be more like Princess Diana, arms wide-open-on-the-boat type mom. I figure if I have only 3 hours a day, I should always be wide-open. Unfortunately, I'm just me. I hope it's enough.

These discussions with my children, Xandri reminding Jack that someday I am going to die and he'll have to wait to see me, remind me that I'm all that my kids have in the mom department. It reminds me that I need to remember that---there's no back-up mom for these kids. I guess I need to get the poster of Diana, just to remind myself what I'm all about...

Ash Wednesday--Seek & Ye Shall Find

It's Ash Wednesday today. Lent started this morning. Christ Evangelical Church (where my friend Tracy is the church secretary) is doing 40 days of prayer that correspond to Lent, and they sent this as their "thought of the day"---it goes along well with what I've been thinking/doing with my patriarchal blessing:

FEBRUARY 6
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon Me and come and pray to Me, and I will listen to you. And you will seek Me and find Me if you seek Me with all your heart."Jeremiah 29:11-13 (NIV translation)

The King James Translation
11 For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.
12 Then shall ye call upon me, and ye shall go and pray unto me, and I will hearken unto you.
13 And ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your cheart.

"I'll seek the Lord early while in my youth, and He will help me to know the truth. I'll search the scriptures and find Him there, then go to my Father in fervent prayer. I'll seek the Lord early and I'll obey His living prophets and all they say. I'll keep His commandments; His love will abound; I will seek the Lord early and He shall be found."

NICU Tribute

Before I was a NICU- mom, I had thought birth was a natural event.

I couldn’t have imagined a full perinatalogy team all yellow-suited working to make my child breathe, how quickly one group of people could work together, or how quiet moments after birth could be. I had no idea that silence after delivery was deafening, frightening, and eerie. I didn’t know I would hold my own breath until my child took his.

Before I was a NICU-mom, I’d never suited up to enter a sterile center

I didn’t measure time in nursing rotations.

I didn’t admire neonatalogists, NICU-nurses, and grief therapists

I didn’t know that each hospital had a patient coordinator.

Before I was a NICU-mom, I didn’t know machines could be both beautiful and terrifying; that positive air pressure was a blessing, gavage feeding gentle, and kangaroo care healing.

Before I was a NICU-mom, I measured child development in weeks and months instead of hours and days. I didn’t worry that my child wouldn’t meet milestones; I simply waited for them. I had never worried that I would hear the word "blindness" or "cerebral palsy." I had no idea what it was like to wait to see how seriously my child would be impaired.

Before I was a NICU-mom, I thought that premature babies were simply tiny fighters, not a fragile future. I’d never measured time in the hospital as negative development time. I’d never feared a doctor’s visit, what he would say, or wondered if I’d ever take my baby home.

Before I was a NICU-mom, I didn’t know I’d need permission to touch, hold, feed, change, sing, and care for my own child. I didn’t realize that I could and would be denied simple actions performed by a qualified staff so that I wouldn’t injure my tiny baby. I didn’t know that bandages remove baby skin; IV’s have to be flushed and are painful; light has to be blocked but round-the-clock staff must still see; schedules are all-important, and each event recorded. Nothing is too small to note when your baby is in the NICU. It all matters.

Before I was a NICU-mom, I didn’t realize there was an entire level of medicine developed to provide for me and mine that I didn’t even know I’d ever need, or know that everyone there would want what I want for my baby.

Before I was a NICU-mom, I measured time in minutes, days, weeks, years; now I measure them in seconds, hours, days, weeks—each more precious than the last. I’ve learned to seize and savor those moments, because I was a NICU-mom.

Jillian Phippen

God Be With You Till We Meet Again

I have been especially touched by the line in my patriarchal blessing that says I need to follow the prophets because I've always simply considered the LIVING prophet. It reminds me that line upon line includes the important messages of the past: plant a garden, every member a missionary, be a worthy, temple attending people, have a year's supply.

I think what I will remember about President Hinckley is that he made me realize that even prophets strive to "stand a little taller" and that even those whom we consider perfect aren't and are consistently working every day to "get up and go to work." When people ask me HOW I do all that I do every day, I always reply, "I get out of bed"--and go and do the work.

My personal motto in life is from my favorite scripture "...that they separated themselves and departed one from another, trusting in the Lord that they should meet again at the close of their harvest; for they supposed that great was the work which they had undertaken."

Every day as I leave my husband, my little kids, my house, end a phone call with my grandparents, I have to hope that we will all meet again at the close of our harvest---when ever that close comes---and that when we meet again, we'll be thrilled to find that we are all "still bretheren in the Lord" and that what I have devoted my life to was a great work, and that my children will know it's a great work.

What I've been inspired to do since the prophet died is to learn for myself what it means to "go forth with faith" knowing that God has a plan for me, and that as I do my best to "stand a little taller" I can be all that He planned for me, that I can fulfill the measure of my creation so that at the end of my harvest, He'll say "Well done" and I can wait for the rest of my loved ones knowing that the work they do here on earth is what they suppose to be great.

President Hinckley was MY prophet---the first prophet I have had a real, true testimony where I knew HE was the right man for the right job, that God had led and guided to lead his church. Now, I will have to find that same testimony about President Monson, and I find that hard and scary, but I will find it because I learned from President Hinckley that "God is at the helm." Time after time he told us that, and I believe him.

I've been struck, over and over again, by how often "God Be With You 'Till We Meet Again" was played; for me, that reflects my hopes and dreams for my family, that we'll be together, encircled about by the angels of heaven; there are those on the other side who are waiting for us to close our missions so we can be together again, too, and when time is endless and forever, we will have all of that to truly be together, to grow, to share, to know. I guess I have never had a stronger testimony of the eternities as I do now, and that is a true blessing from the Lord.

Xanadu's Birthday Party

Well, her party was a BUST. Not one person from the Phippen family came, and only Grandma Max & Grandpa Bill came from the Preston side! Grandma Max brought a Costco sheet cake that said "Happy Birthday Xanadu" (done in a Valentine's day pattern Xandri picked) and we added the 6 princess PVC characters that Xanna loves.

To have help eating the cake, we invited the neighbors over. Jason Bird, my longest neighbor and daycare "Aunt" Jackie's husband, brought 2 of his kids, and my best friend RaeLyn and our favorite babysitter Kallie came to help eat cake. Then we sent lots and lots of cake home with them!

Xandri got lots of clothes, Dora Mermaid paraphenalia, some replacement Disney Polly Pocket dolls, and she wore a crown and costume to the party. I'll get some pictures postetd soon.

If you get a chance, wish her a happy birthday! She was thrilled to hear from Great-grandma JJ and Great-grandma Viv and Great-grandpa Ira. Those were wonderful phone calls for her. She's blessed to be a favored grand-daughter... No one can help loving our Xanadu!