The Gifts of the Atonement

This morning, many of us might have woken up to little easter baskets with gifts of candy or clothes or other fun things. I’d like to add three very important gifts to your pile of Easter presents. All three of these gifts come to us courtesy of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. Which, Pres. Gordon B. Hinckley said “is the greatest event in human history.”

The first gift is The Resurrection. 

1.The Resurrection: This is not a free gift. In the pre-mortal realm, we fought a war. We sided with our Heavenly Father and His plan, choosing Jesus Christ as our Savior. As a result, we were sent to earth and given a body. Because we chose to follow Him then, we will all be blessed to be resurrected receive an immortal, perfect body. On this Easter morning, how beautiful the words spoken to Mary, “He is Risen.”

The second gift is the gift of Redemption.

2. The Redemption: This is probably the most talked about aspect of the Atonement. God wants all of us to live with Him forever. However, He cannot look upon sin with any allowance. No unclean thing can dwell with God. This is a law of heaven that cannot be undone. This Justice must be fulfilled. Just as true, we have all sinned. And we are probably not done sinning yet. Therefore, none of us could return to live with God. We are unclean. At dinner one night, we were discussing this very idea. 

“Teya, have you ever made a mistake?”

“Yes.”

“So, if you want to live with Heavenly Father, what do you have to do now?” 

She thought for just a second, and her face lit up, “Be baptized!” She is 7 1/2 and still has that redeeming event before her. 

“Yes!” I replied, “But, what if you make a mistake after you are baptized?”

“um’. I saw her face start to worry. She looked around the table and I could sense her sweet little mind wondering if she’d be able to live with her family and Heavenly Father after this life or if she were doomed. 

“Because No unclean thing can live with God.” I said. Her worries were deepening. Now, I normally don’t scare my kids about eternal damnation at dinner. Breakfast, maybe... but I really wanted them to understand the concepts of Justice and Mercy. Mercifully, Teya has older siblings who helped out.

“You can repent,” and “Jesus Christ paid for our sins.” Josh and Eden piped in. 

Exactly. There is another law of Heaven that allows for the sacrifice of one who willingly, and without sin of His own, pays the price for the sins and mistakes of others. The Atonement of Jesus Christ paid the price for our mistakes and if we repent and change, we can return to live with Heavenly Father, even if we make mistakes after we are baptized.  

3. Relying on Christ

Elder Bednar said, “Most of us clearly understand that the Atonement is for sinners. I am not so sure, however, that we know and understand that the Atonement is also for saints—for good men and women who are obedient, worthy, and conscientious and who are striving to become better and serve more faithfully. We may mistakenly believe we must make the journey from good to better and become a saint all by ourselves, through sheer grit, willpower, and discipline, with our obviously limited capacities.”

I LOVE THAT! I am guilty of trying to use sheer grit, willpower, and discipline to change my very nature all on my own. Elder Bednar goes on to say, “The gospel of the Savior is not simply about avoiding bad in our lives; it also is essentially about doing and becoming good. And the Atonement provides help for us to overcome and avoid bad and to do and become good. Help from the Savior is available for the entire journey of mortality—from bad to good to better and to change our very nature.”

The change from bad to good is the gift of the redeeming power of the Atonement. The transformation from good to better is the third gift: Relying on the Savior to change our very natures and become saints worthy of eternal life. 

In Ether 12:27 it says, “And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.”

I used to think that this scripture simply meant that we were given weaknesses so that we would become humble and seek help from Heaven to turn those weaknesses into strengths. After pondering this scripture and applying it over and over again to the weaknesses and shortcomings in my life, I now understand that that is precisely what it means. 

We are given shortcomings and faults SO THAT WE WILL TURN TO THE LORD. Not so we can see how tough we can be. Not so we can compare our strengths to other’s weaknesses or the more commonly accepted mistake; to compare our weaknesses to other’s strengths. 

We have weak aspects in our nature. All of us do. They do not make us evil. They make us human. Eventually, however, if we want to live with our Heavenly Father, we will need to change those weak aspects. And we do not have the capacity to do it on our own. No matter the amount of sheer grit, willpower, or discipline we apply. Our efforts fall short. We need the power of the Atonement. 

There are days, when I have used up my best efforts even before breakfast! How am I to continue without divine help? My poor family has all too often been the recipient of my unwillingness to access the Atonement’s strengthening power on those days, when Impatience is their after school snack and grumpiness the main course for dinner. 

We all have struggles. I know there are people who we might think have never had so much as a bad hair day. But that is simply not true. Some of our struggles are widely known, plastered all over Facebook for the world to see and sympathize and share. But, the majority of our trials are personal. Private. The tears hidden. The burdens camouflaged with plastered smiles on Sunday morning, to accompany those perfect hair dos. 

Some of these burdens are self-inflicted, but most are simply unfair. 

In The Book of Mormon, we read about the people of Alma. They had left their complacent existence under the wicked King Noah, to follow Alma. They had accepted the gospel and been baptized, covenanting “to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places that {they} may be in, even until death,” and to “serve him and keep his commandments, that he may pour out his Spirit more abundantly upon {them}.

Their peaceful new life was short-lived. The Lamanites discovered them, and, with the spiteful vengeance of one of Alma’s former colleagues at the helm, they were brought into essential slavery. They were not allowed to pray to their newfound God. They were forced to labor and carry around actual burdens to add to the spiritual burdens of not being able to worship. 

“And Alma and his people did did pour out their hearts to him; and he did know the thoughts of their hearts. And it came to pass that the voice of the Lord came to them in their afflictions, saying: Lift up your heads and be of good comfort, for I know of the covenant which ye have made unto me; and I will covenant with my people and deliver them out of bondage.”

The Lord came to them IN their afflictions, not after they were over. Likewise, He will come to us IN, DURING, WHILE we are struggling. And, we have made the same covenant the people of Alma made. The promise is the same. He will deliver us out of spiritual bondage. That is the future promise of the Atonement. We will all be resurrected and delivered from the bondage of our mortal bodies. If we repent we can eventually lay hold of eternal life and be delivered from spiritual bondage. But, in the next verse comes the here and now of the Atonement. For in the meantime, this is what the Lord promises:

“And I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs, even while you are in bondage;”

Even WHILE we are suffering. Today. Now. 

“and this will I do that ye may stand as witnesses for me hereafter, and that ye may know of a surety that I, the Lord God, do visit my people in their afflictions.”

“And now it came to pass that the burdens which were laid upon Alma and his brethren were made light; yea, the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord.”

The Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease. That gift of increased strength is part of the Atonement. He has already fulfilled His part. We simply must ask for help and rely on Him for that strengthening power. 

Today, I can stand as a witness. I have come to the Lord, asking for strength beyond my own capabilities to deal with certain challenges. And He has answered. He has strengthened me. He has come to me IN my afflictions. And He will do the same for you. I’m still working on submitting cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord. I’m a work-in-progress.

I love the story of Ammon in the Book of Mormon. He slays the wicked men with stones and swords, he helps convert an entire kingdom of people. Then, later on, when he and his brethren meet back up with their best friend Alma, Ammon starts recounting all the wonderful things that happened to them. His brother Aaron starts to chastise him, saying, “Ammon, I fear that thy joy doth carry thee away unto boasting.” I have to say, I’ve always agreed with Aaron. Until the last time I read this verse. Because now I agree wholeheartedly with Ammon. 

“But Ammon said unto him: I do not boast in my own strength, nor in my own wisdom; Yea, I know that I am nothing; as to my strength I am weak; but I will boast of my God, for in his strength I can do all things; yea, behold, many mighty miracles we have wrought in this land, for which we will praise his name forever.”

Brothers and Sisters. As to my strength, I am weak. but I will boast of my God, for in his strength I can do all things. I will never slay wicked men or convert kingdoms, but I testify that many mighty miracles have been wrought in my life. Brothers and Sisters, WE ARE THE MIGHTIEST MIRACLES. In this life, through the help of our Savior’s Atonement, we can change our very natures and become not just good people, but verifiable saints, worthy to live with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ forever. And for that, I will praise His name, even unto apparent boasting, forever. 

Another favorite story of mine is about the brother of Jared. I have often felt that their journey was a parable of our mortal journey and their needed preparations a type or metaphor of the Atonement. They had three major dilemmas facing them for their journey across the ocean: they had no way to get fresh air, they had no light, and they had no way to steer their boats.

The gift of resurrection is like the air. The Lord gave them the solution with little to no effort on their part. Cut a hole in both the top and the bottom of the boats and open one when air is needed. Done.

The gift of redemption is like the light. The Lord didn’t just give them the solution. He required sincere effort on the part of the brother of Jared. Effort that can be likened unto repentance and turning away from sin. 

The Lord asked the Brother of Jared what he should do. He then climbed an exceedingly high mountain, carved out 16 stones and then returned to the Lord and said, “I know, O Lord, that thou hast all power, and can do whatsoever thou wilt for the benefit of man; therefore touch these stones, O Lord, with thy finger, and prepare them that they may shine forth in darkness; and they shall shine forth unto us in the vessels which we have prepared, that we may have light while we shall cross the sea.”

In my mind, it is like little Sarah from the story Eden read. “Here is my 61 cents, Lord. I know they are just rocks. But it is the best I could do. Please accept them, my efforts, and make me shine.”

 “And thus the Lord caused stones to shine in darkness, to give light unto men, women, and children, that they might not cross the great waters in darkness.”

Finally, they had no way to steer their boats across the entire ocean. They had to rely on the Lord. The Lord realized this and said, “For behold, the mountain waves shall dash upon you. Nevertheless, I will bring you up again out of the depths of the sea;  And behold, I prepare you against these things; for ye cannot cross this great deep save I prepare you against the waves of the sea, and the winds which have gone forth, and the floods which shall come.” 

Is there not a type in this? The Lord knows we will have many trials, shortcomings, and hard times during our mortal sojourn. But HE HAS PREPARED US and WANTS TO HELP US MAKE IT THROUGH. 

”And it came to pass that when they were encompassed about by many waters they did cry unto the Lord, and he did bring them forth again upon the top of the waters. And thus they were driven forth; and no monster of the sea could break them; and they did have light continually.”

When we are underwater, metaphorically speaking, we need to cry unto the Lord, and He will bring us forth, not allowing any monster to break us, and give us light continually.

Several months into my mission, I had an experience that I am still learning from today. We had left our apartment that morning with backpacks full of pamphlets and promise. We had several follow-up appointments and potential new investigators. Then, one by one, everything fell through. No one was home when they said they would be. Or, if they were, they said they were no longer interested in learning more. The fog that had settled in deeply over the night had never dissipated and the air was dense with our defeat. We returned to our tiny apartment and I dropped my backpack, still as heavy as when we had left, onto the floor and crawled onto my duvet-covered straw mattress. All I wanted to do was withdraw, retreat. I had a year left on my mission, and I didn’t know if I was going to make it through the week. 

I started listing the things that were wrong. Like kindling, my faults caught fire and spread quickly to every aspect of my life. I was a complete failure. The road before me was too steep and unknown. I started mumbling to myself over and over, “I can’t do it. I can’t do it. I can’t do it.”

And then, a single word pressed upon my mind so quietly, I knew it came from the Holy Ghost. “Alone.”

“I can’t do it,” I said, again.

“Alone.”

And then, an understanding sigh, as I put the two phrases together.

“I can’t do it alone.”

There are rare moments in life when learning takes place in an unearthly way. Where a principle taught is of such an eternal nature that it can only come directly from the Spirit. Such was this moment. 

What a difference a single word can make! “I can’t do it” implied despair and discouragement, failure and forfeit. As I spoke those words, I was giving in and giving up. However, “I can’t do it alone” represented humility and teachableness. “I can’t do it alone” implied that I could do it with help; that a solution was very possible. And that help, through the Savior and His atonement was there, waiting for me to simply ask for it. So, I did. And, not only did I make it through that week, I went on to enjoy my mission more than I ever thought possible. 

We were never meant to face our challenges alone. That is the third gift of the Atonement. He suffered so that He might be there with us, helping us. Strengthening us. The next time we hear the words, “I can’t do it,” whether from someone else, or from our own mouth or in our own minds, let’s be quick to add ALONE. And ask for the help that is waiting for us. 

This Easter, may we open up all the gifts of the Atonement. So that when we return to our heavenly home, we will recognize the Savior, because he was a part of our daily life. At that final judgment day, before our Heavenly Father, our Savior will be standing as advocate next to each of us. I hope to hear, “She opened the complete gift of my Atonement. She has been resurrected and now has a perfect body. She has repented, sorrowed for her wrongs and applied the redeeming power of my gift. And during her time on earth, she relied on me. She opened ALL of my gift. She let me help her become who she is today.”

And In the words of Enos,  “I rejoice in the day when my mortal shall put on immortality, and shall stand before him; then shall I see his face with pleasure, and he will say unto me: Come unto me, ye blessed, there is a place prepared for you in the mansions of my Father. 

In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

"I'll take a compliment, with a side of hyperbole. Thanks"

Two years ago, I gave a talk in church, Naturally, I worked hard on it, as would anyone so asked. Afterwards, several people told me it was a good talk. Some even hugged me and said it was a ‘great’ talk. But not Sean Stapley. Such an ordinary compliment wasn’t in his vocabulary. He was the Executive Secretary in our ward at the time and after the block of meetings he said, “We had a vote in bishopric and decided that since you did such an incredible job today, you are going to be speaking every Sunday for a long time.”  

Yeah, it’s been over two years. I haven’t spoken in church since, but you can bet I haven’t forgotten Sean’s words. 

Last summer, the Stapleys took us out on their boat, as I’m sure they have taken just about every family out. I know his middle name is Christopher, but it should be “generous”. The same goes for Lori. They should have been called Sean and Lori “Generous” Stapley. But, I digress. 

We were out on the lake and it was my turn to try my hand at wake boarding. I’m not a talented water-skier. The same extends to wake boarding, surfing, etc. Eventually, I get up, but it’s all teeter-tottering and wobbling from getting up to colorful crash. So, the first time I tried wake boarding, I put my left foot forward. I got up for a few seconds, and then inevitably fell. The next time, I got up with my right foot forward, since it hadn’t felt comfortable at all the other way around. Again, I was up for a few shaky seconds before my face imprinted on the surface of Saguaro lake. I had about had it by this time, so I called for them to come around and haul me aboard. When I did, I was greeted with non-stop praises from Sean. 

“You amaze me! You are so talented!” He exclaimed, to which I replied, “What do you mean? You mean my falls were off the chart?” “No, he said, you can ski switch-foot! I’ve never seen anything like that at all! You are incredible!” He went on to explain what switch-foot was (being able to board with either foot forward). For the rest of the afternoon, he kept shaking his head in apparent disbelief and telling my kids, “Do you have any idea how talented your mom is?”  Remember, I had simply tried out boarding both ways because NEITHER way felt easy or comfortable. But, he went on an on about how amazing I was, that by the end of that summer, you could have overheard me bragging to my nephew up in Utah how I can board ‘switch-foot’.

That was one of Sean’s gifts. He made you feel worth ten times what you felt about yourself. And he made sure you remembered it. His compliments contained hyperboles and a dash of exaggeration to make sure you knew how great you really were in his eyes. Can you imagine having someone like that? That builds you up, up, and up? No wonder there is an uninhabited part of our souls now that he has returned to his Father above. No wonder we miss him. What a treasure of a person he was. What a fortunate lot we were to have known him. To have been the recipients of his compliments. 

I bet he’d want us to carry on his tradition of complimenting big, brash and bold. To make sure the recipient knows how valued they are. So here is my challenge to you. The next time you go to compliment someone (and I truly hope that is at least by tomorrow), exaggerate it. Add a dash of embellishments. Make it a compliment they won’t forget easily. Make it a Sean Stapley compliment. 

A lonely clean sock

Here's another prompt, this one from two years ago!

You are a single clean sock that gets left in the hamper and covered up with dirty clothes.

"I'm next. I'm next" I thought. Obviously it was my turn next. The pressure stacked on top of me all day had finally lifted. I was free! Any second now, she'd reach in, pick me up in her wonderfully wrinkled hands and help me find my soul mate.

I had survived another rustle in my master's worn-out shoe. I had kept my strings together throughout the school day, not once falling down around his ankles like some other socks did. I had not complained when he threw off the protective shell around me to wallop in the dirty sand at the park. I put up with the grittiness when back into my shell I went for the ride home.

Then, into the stink. I awaited my cleansing. This was always the hardest. The darkness. The pressure. The smell. The endless wait 'til laundry day. But, I'd made it! I swam with ferocity, soaking up as much cleanliness as I could, then bathing in the pure rinse cycle.

My favorite part was the heat. The warmth, the fluffiness. It was like I was flying. Gravity had no hold on me in there! And now, here it was, my turn to be handled individually, to find my match.

Any second now...

Okay, maybe tomorrow...

What? More pressure? And smelly ones at that!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

13 wonderful years

Yesterday was our thirteenth anniversary. It was a crazy, busy day for Dave, and I decided his gift would be a clean house, so thats what I did all day. But, while I was cleaning baseboards and dusting, I kept thinking about fun things most people don't know about Dave. So, here are 13 things you might not know about David Paul Blaser.

1. He frequently (as in several times a week) does the dishes.

2. He mops the floor, cleans the toilets, and scrubs the shower more than I do.

3. I've often caught him asleep in bed with his ipad propped open to the scriptures, the Ensign, or the Church handbook of instructions.

4. He often has a bowl of sugar cereal while watching TV for his 30 minutes of wind down time at the end of the day.

5. Sleeping in for him is getting up at 7:00 a.m. on a rare Saturday instead of the usual 5:00 a.m. alarm.

6. He built Josh's bed.

7. He has given me 13 back rubs for every 1 that I've given him over the course of our marriage. (I'm spoiled, I know)

8. He has to wash his hair out immediately after getting it cut, even if they styled it at the shop.

9. He calls his dad almost daily on his drive home from work.

10. He enjoys reading political non-fiction books.

11. He flosses every morning.

12. Dinner and a movie is his first choice of a night out's activities.

13. He always tells each of us in our family every day that he loves us.

I love you Dave! You are a wonderful husband. People regularly tell me how great of a person he is. He's one of the good ones. Thanks for thirteen great years.

Love, Jennie

If iphones could talk... PROMPT

I have the immeasurable privilege of meeting twice a month with a writer's group. There are four of us ladies and we are searching for a great name for our group. Suggestions welcome. However, that is not the point of this post.

Each time we meet, we start off with a prompt. We then furiously scratch away for 10 minutes and then share what we wrote with each other. Sometimes they are silly, sometimes they are thought provoking. Sometimes they whet the literary appetite for an entire story to follow.

I thought I'd share some of the prompts I've written over the last two years. Now, keep in mind we are given these prompts cold and have only ten minutes. I have tried to correct grammar, but other than that, I've left the story as is. So, while this is not a New Years Resolution, I am trying to resurrect this blog just to put myself out there a bit more and declare: Yes, I am a writer.

Jan. 12, 2012

Prompt: A Christmas gift that you have wanted for a long time is finally yours. You put it away at the end of the day, and to your astonishment, it talks to you....

My response:

I finally decided to turn off my new iphone. Well, not turn it off, but plug it in to its charger and let it rest and get enough energy to deal with my insatiable desire for surfing the app store, playing words with friends, and texting.

For years my husband had told me to get a smart phone, that life would be easier with it. I'd shoved his sweet intentions away on basis of cost and necessity. Always the practical, responsible one. But, every marriage needs one. But, for Christmas, he had gotten me one and I had been too delighted to muster a complaint.

I got out of bed and plugged my phone into the wall charger. A soft ting confirmed it had landed. Then, I climbed back into bed, a smile on my face, and whispered, "Good night iphone."

"Good night, Jennie." came a husky, robotic voice in reply. My heart lurched out of my body before my mind could follow.

"Who's there?" I winced. I looked over at my husband's sleeping form to see if he was pranking me. He answered with a steady snore.

"iphone?"

"Yes?" The same voice answered. I looked over to where I had plugged it in.

"Can you hear me?" Trepidation in every syllable.

"Yes."

A sudden realization. "Is this Siri?" The newest iphones came with a lady's voice programmed to answer any question you might have. "This is Siri, right?"

"No, I'm not Siri. Siri can only respond when you touch her microphone button. I am your iphone. I've come to tell you an important message before you get so carried away with me that you wile away your life."

"I don't... um... are you alive?" Was I awake?

"No, I'm not alive. I'm your iphone. Now, do you want the message?"

"Um... sure, I guess."

"As long as you own me, I'll be monitoring your time, your thoughts, your words, and your deeds. And, at the last day, at the final judgment, I'll be there, ready with my report of your life. So, use me wisely."

Within minutes, the only apps on my iphone I still had were the gospel library, LDS tools, and the Mormon Channel.

A singular meal

“Good evening,” he said, a lilting accent giving away his foreign upbringing. “And welcome to Palo.”

We returned his smile, offering thanks.

“Is this your first time here with us?” He adjusted my husband’s seat.

Was this our first time? Most definitely. No, we had not dined in the exclusive adult-only five-star restaurant on top of a 14-story Disney cruise ship at night while docked in the beautiful and balmy harbor of Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. Our friends, Ward and Lisa, were also first timers along with us. We were just over half-way through our week-long dream vacation. Our kids were five stories below us, being served dinner at our regular table in the Parrot Cay, a wonderful restaurant on its own.

“Yes,” we answered, not caring if it was obvious how much we were enjoying everything about our present surroundings.

He knew our names. Once he determined which one of the men was Dave Blaser, who had made the reservation, he welcomed us all by name. Just another simple layer of Disney courtesy.

“My name is Nikola,” he said as he poured Mickey tap water into my glass (we had opted out of the Evian bottled water at $5.00 each). I shifted my gaze to read below his name tag to find out what country he was from. Serbia.

“Kako ste?” I blurted out, spouting the only Serbian I could recall. During my mission, almost half a lifetime ago, I had known a fair amount of Serbian, and could have carried on a decent conversation. Most of that knowledge had now fallen through the cracks of life, making room for more critical information like what bribes worked to get your daughter to practice the piano, and how to do seven loads of laundry on the side of an otherwise crazy day.

“Dobro,” he answered automatically. It took a second longer for him to realize I had just spoken in his native tongue. “Do you speak Serbian?”

“No.” I racked my brain for any more Serbian. How do you say “I lived in Slovenia?” I couldn’t pull it out. “Zivi en Slovenija.” I said, mixing bad Slovene grammer with a random Spanish article thrown in for added confusion. What?

But, he understood. The verb, ‘Ziveti‘ meant ‘to live‘ and the root was similar enough to Serbian. We exchanged a few more pleasantries about that area of the world, thankfully in English. This additional rapport was just another magical coating on our evening. It is a small world after all.

The entire night was marvelous. No, a three-syllable word does not do it justice. Sensational. Incredible. {Insert brilliant-sounding five or six-syllable word here.}

We started off with an entire antipasto bar, rolled directly to our table where Nikola doled out almost transparent slices of prosciutto, plump artichoke hearts, and parmesan cheese that had aged for over eight years, all drizzled with garlic-infused, hand-pressed olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Fresh, warm italian bread accompanied it.

The next course was soups and salads. The caprese salad had a beautiful twist. A perfectly ripe tomato, halved and peeled, adorned with generous wedges of mozzarella cheese amid a plate decorated with basil and oil mixed together and drizzled in the shape of a large tree branch. It was almost too appealing to touch, but one-bite did the trick, and soon Nikola was clearing out plates to make room for the margarita and quattro formaggi pizzas we had ordered. The thin-crusted margarita was perfectly italian. Crunchy crust, obviously cooked in a brick oven. Thin tomato-based sauce dripped off the ends of each piece, staunched occasionally by a stray basil leaf or a slice of mozzarella still trying to melt.

I was starting to get full. Our entrees hadn’t even arrived. I forced myself to abandon the second slice of tempting pizza. The conversation never got dull. When we weren’t whimpering in delight over each bite of whatever we were consuming, we were discussing our next possible vacations together. This was just the beginning for our families. We each had three children. Same ages. Same genders. It was ideal.

Nikola timed our entrees to perfection. My sea bass was a work of art. With each bite, butter and lemon exploded into my mouth and the flesh of the fish simply melted onto my tongue. We exchanged bites around the table so everyone could taste everything.

“You’ve got to try this” should be Palo’s catchphrase. We all must have said it a dozen times that evening.

Long before our entrees had even arrived, Nikola asked us if we wanted to try the specialty dessert: The Chocolate Souffle. And, yes, all three of those words deserve their capitals. It took just under a half an hour to cook one, so if we wanted them, we needed to get the order in then. We had been prepared. We had been told, no, almost commanded, that The Chocolate Souffle was a must at Palo. Essential.

Enough time had passed since our entree platters had been removed to just tickle the tops of our appetites. Though, even if we had been truly full, we were quickly becoming experts at eating more-than-generous portions.

With flair, Nikola adjusted a thin rolling cart containing our desserts near our table. On top sat four rectangular white plates. Each was centered with a white ramekin overflowing with The Chocolate Souffle. On one side, two miniature pitchers held vanilla bean and chocolate sauces. On the other side, a perfectly round sphere of vanilla gelato floated on a ceramic resting spoon. Steam emanated seductively from the ramekin.

After presenting us each with our platters, he removed Dave’s plate to use for demonstrative purposes. With the fork tines away from him, he gently prodded a small opening in the top of the souffle. Mist stole its way out in a puff. He picked up the vanilla bean sauce and pour an ounce into the hole. The entire souffle responded with a sultry bulge.

We all smiled in our own sinful anticipation of what was about to come. I gently poked a hole along the cracked lines in the surface of my souffle. Poof. A pocket of bottle fog crept out. I couldn’t decide which sauce to apply first. So, I chose both. I raised my small silver spoon and penetrated the opening I had created. Ecru cream poured out of the small container and was quickly swallowed up by the darkness inside. Milk-chocolate sauce followed and my spoon grappled around for a perfect mixture of vanilla bean, chocolate sauce, and chocolate souffle. I pulled it out with a perfect, delectable mass.

I blew on it slightly, looking up to see all three of my dinner companions doing the same. We shared a silly smile. Kids in a candy shop had nothing on us. And then...

Mmmm. How can something be crumbly and so moist at the same time? I swirled the sodden morsels around in my mouth, absorbing each burst of flavor. No need to say, “You have to try this” to anyone now. We were all equally drawn up in food euphoria.

Over the next too-rapidly passing ten minutes, we sat enjoying our souffles. I relished in each bite, pouring more sauce intermittently. Eating each bite slower than a bank teller returning to the long line of customers after her ill-timed break. It was simply sumptuous.

With each swallow, I tried to capture the entire essence of the evening. That day had been one of the best so far. We had started out eating breakfast with Mickey, Minnie and all their friends. We had gone for an amazing catamaran ride out to a secluded bay to snorkel. The ride back to the boat had been a highlight. All six kids were laughing on the catamaran ride back. Lying on their stomachs on the stiff netting watching the waves splash up all around us. Standing up surfing and trying not to get knocked over when we hit a particularly large swell. The sun beating down on our skin, warming us; the perfect contrast to the wind in our hair. Upbeat music blasting from the ship’s stereo. Now, we were all showered, and dressed up to the nines. Our children, who had been fed and taken care of by other people, were now all comfortably watching Cars 2 in 3D in the huge theater seven stories below us. The view was a dark, lulling ocean and blinking harbor lights. I had seen a sign that afternoon that read, “There is a better life out there, it just costs more.” I had laughed at the time, but I felt I knew what it meant. This moment. This was what it meant.

And, suddenly, I didn’t want it to end. I looked down at my souffle, and even though I was absolutely full, I wouldn’t not have eaten the last bite even if I had room. I had to save it for later. To let it linger in my memory. To know that it was still there, unfinished, waiting for me. Waiting for the next time.

A Memory of my Mother

This is a quick memory I wrote, originally for Mother's day to my Mom. I finally finished it two months later. Happy Mother's day Mom. What are some memories you have of something your mother did that still stays with you today?

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The wind whispered to the trees, who answered with a disagreeable shake, covering me with a fresh coating of snow. Even though it wasn’t snowing, I was laden down and soaking wet, with each new gust reaching deeper inside me. I was beginning to rethink my decision to walk my best friend home, now that I had accomplished the task and had only my breath as companion. But, I hadn’t been ready to part ways when it was time, so I waved to my siblings and told them I’d take the long way home. An impetuous decision, given the weather, but done in the name of fourth-grade friendship.

Just a few more houses, and I’d crest the big hill. It would be the perfect sledding hill, were it not for the unfortunate fact that it was a busy road. I precariously placed each moon boot down as close to the sweeping drifts and plow leftovers as I dared. The sidewalks wouldn’t be visible or approachable for months. With each passing car, I turtled into my coat and held up my arms against the residual flurry, berating myself once again for forgetting my scarf. It now fruitlessly warmed the brick-colored tiles on the floor of the school coat room. A few more cars passed. A few more houses. I peeked out of my cocoon. Almost. Almost. There it is. Our street. Home.

Knowing what awaited me kept me going. I would have smiled in anticipation if I hadn’t thought my cheeks would break from the effort. I knew my mom would be waiting for me. And not just waiting. I knew she would have a warm, comforting snack. She’d help me off with my stiff gloves and thick coat. She’d rub my arms down to warm me up. How many cold days had I walked home? How many times had my boots crunched through snow to and from school? Other than my solitude, this one was no different.

Yet.

Decades later, I remember this particular walk. The grey skies were streaked with colors that pointlessly fought to be blue. It wasn’t because it was specifically colder than any other day. It was the warmth of the knowledge that my mother would be home, waiting for me, that engraved the memory of that walk home deep in my soul. How sure I was of that fact. I was more certain of her presence, waiting with a warm snack just for me, than I was that the sun would rise the next day.

And I was not wrong. Trudging up our driveway that would need to be shoveled once again, I almost broke into a run to prove to any wayward doubts that my mom was there. Immediately after entering through our garage, I shook off the last layer of snow and stomped my way inside. My mother was there in seconds, helping remove my hat, gloves and coat. I couldn’t help it. I smiled. For no apparent reason. Yet, I knew why. As my nose begin to thaw, I smelled it. Hot chocolate.

My siblings were scattered up and down the counter, hands surrounding their individual, steaming mugs. Content. I quickly joined them and their conversations, warming my soul with words and delicious drink. It was most likely hot carob, now that I think of it, but as a child, I honestly didn’t know the difference.

The rest of that day, and the majority of my childhood has since blurred into scenes of unspecific happiness. But the feelings of cold, tempered by the sweet knowledge of security live on. What a gift to have a mother waiting for us each day as we came home. What a gift.

I now live in the Valley of the Sun, where snow is so rare that the very rumor of it escalates into prime time news. So, I greet my kids as they ride home on their bikes and scooters with popsicles. Neon green, deep purple and some shade of orange that looks like the over processed tangelos in the store. We sit up to the table, where the ceiling fan is whirring away, as they plop their backpacks on the floor and kick off their flip flops, declaring this to be the hottest day yet. We lounge around licking and talking as they recount the wonders of their day. I may not be quite like my mom, in any regards, but in this one aspect I hope I’ve learned from her. What a gift to be at home. Waiting for my children each day. Waiting with open arms... and a snack.