My Sabbatical

It's worth pondering today how my life can become utterly consumed with a never-ending to-do list.

I've been listening to and pondering upon President Uchtdorf's conference address much and was making good progress at slowing down.

I felt like I had my life in control.

But this moment of comfort passed like they all do, for the next day I got a new calling.

And I literally had to stop as I wondered how on earth I was going to fit this into my schedule.

I had it all worked out perfectly before but was not expecting what came my way.

And so this is where I've been.

This is why my hobbies (including picture taking and blogging) have not only taken a backseat, but have literally gone out of existence the last few weeks.

It's not all worked out yet, but the Lord has been guiding me and giving me just enough grace to get through each day...and each to-do list.

Today blogging wasn't on my list (it hasn't been for a long time now), but I felt I needed to write.

So here I am with only half of the items checked off for today and not really sure how the rest is going to get done with my sanity still intact.

But I trust Him.

I know He'll help me.  Because He has so many times in the past.

And I will return to post all of the beautiful photographs from October.  But it may not happen until November.  And somehow, though it goes against my grain, it's okay.  Sometimes things in our lives must be put on hold so that other duties can be accomplished.  And I'm learning how to live this principle.

But before I sign off, I must share just one experience I've had this month that has impacted me greatly.

A few weeks ago Patrick and I were moved to look into buying a painting that I've wanted for a long time.

Miraculously, with a lot of research and phone calls I located the painting I was looking for and found it to be on sale.

My dear, sweet Mother picked it up for me (since it was in a near where she lives) and brought it up to me.  While it was in her possession, I couldn't get it out of my mind.  I kept envisioning it hanging on our wall where I would be able to gaze upon it and draw strength from it.

The days seemed to pass slowly, but, finally she was here with my painting and a poignantly sweet surprise.  She decided that it would be an early Christmas/birthday gift for me.

And now it sits on my wall where, just as I imagined, I gaze upon it and draw strength from it hour by hour.

This beautiful piece was painted by Julius Sergius von Klever (1850-1924).  I first saw it hanging in my mother's living room some time ago and fell in love with it immediately.  Perhaps it was because I was attracted to his impressionistic style of painting...most notably his use of light...which reminded me so much of my favorite artist Rembrandt. {Interestingly, I found out as I researched Von Klever that he came to be known as the Russian Rembrandt}.

Or maybe I loved it because the story of Christ walking on the water with the poignant details of Peter has always been one of my favorite New Testament stories.

Perhaps it was the feelings it roused in my heart.

But most likely, it was a intricate combination of all of these reasons and many more that I can't quite put into words.

Needless to say, the moment I set eyes upon it, I knew that someday, somehow, this painting would abide in my home too.

 

And now it is and I can hardly believe it.  I experience the same feelings I first felt every time I look at it.  The day before my mom brought me my painting, I stumbled across a beautiful song quite on accident.  It's called, "I Will Show You Love," by Kendall Payne.  Tears rolled down my cheeks as I heard the lyrics for the first time.  They fit my life so perfectly that I wonder how she didn't have me in mind.

I Will Show You Love

I will show you love like you've never loved before

I will go the distance and back for more if you just say the word

You will come alive again, call the trying times your friend

Pain that you have suffered through will never get the best of you

You will hope in something real that won't depend on how you feel

When you call my name then I will answer, answer

I am on your side though the wind and waves beat against your faith

And you were on my mind when the world was made

Trust in me my child, trust in my my child

Walk out on the water where you have no control

Scared to death of failure to sacrifice your soul, please let that go

You have climbed an uphill road, you have worn a heavy load

You have cried through endless nights, nearly given up the fight

Watched your dreams like falling stars, heartache made you who you are

And looking back you see that I have always been there

I am on your side though the wind and waves beat against your faith

And you were on my mind when the world was made

Trust in me my child, trust in my my child

Where you gonna hide? Where you gonna hide from Me?

Where you gonna go? Where you gonna go that I can't see?

I have heard you cry and it breaks my heart for I love you so

I would never lie, this is not the end, there is still a hope

I am on your side though the wind and waves beat against your faith

And you were on my mind when the world was made

Trust in me my child, trust in my my child

 

{Scroll down to the bottom of the page and listen to this beautiful song on my playlist if you wish} 

 

In conclusion,

When I rest my eyes on this painting this is a small sampling of what my heart ponders:

~Jesus Christ is all powerful.  He performed so many miracles upon this earth...He is portrayed in the very midst of ones of these miracles in this painting.

~He is always there saying just as He did to His apostles, "Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid."

~I, like Peter, want to be beckoned by my Savior to come closer to Him.  And every time this desire is expressed, He answers, "Come."

~With the Savior's miracles, I, like Peter, walk on the water and accomplish things that would otherwise be impossible as I walk towards Him.  But then I often take my gaze off the Savior and notice the boisterous waves and wind around me and begin to sink.

~But the Savior immediately stretches forth His hand and catches me just as He did Peter so long ago.  Then He gently chides me, "O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?"

 

October Oddlies

Yes, I know Oddlies isn't a word...I probably should have called it Oddities, but Oddlies just kind of rolls off your tongue and seems to fit October...my oddly wonderful month. 

Thank heavens for Indian Summers that melt into Autumn leaving in their wake crisp air and golden sunshine.

The boys have probably ridden 20 miles up and down Gram and Pop's sidewalk

Been enjoying their "own" little table snacks and an occasional meal

Been on several exhausting adventures with me to town.  It's been wonderful to bring them with me...the first time I've ever attempted 2 hour errands...successfully repeated 3 times now.

I love my boys.

Even when my heart yearns for a little princess, I have been so blessed with sweet little princes that fill me with sunshine so many times a day.

Besides, if I had two girls, who would call me Sugar Pie?

{He really does.  Almost as much as he calls me Mommy.}
Easton, that is.  Tate has successfully mastered the words: Jesus, temple, Mama, Dada, Papa, Nana, Banana, more, cookie, Coco, Pop and is on the way to mastering Grandpa, Grandma, and Gram too. Yay!!!!!

Waiting....

...patiently...

...for Easton...

...to come pull him in the little red "nano" as Pop would say.

But then got bored and decided to push it himself.

Easton, on the other hand, abandoned his little car in search of something much bigger.

And then, a new experiment was tried.

Why do my boys only eat PB&J sandwiches if there's no PB?  They prefer theirs on a spoon.

Little Tater--worn out from a long day at the store fell asleep while watching Diego with Easton.

We have a funny tradition...the boys like to sit on the floor and have the laundry to be folded dumped on top of them.  This is after Tate has removed the articles from his head and has settled into the mountain of roupas.

A Letter to {my} Portugal

Dear Portugal,

I've been thinking much of you lately.

Reminiscing about your constant fragrance of flowers
 
 
 

your cobblestones winding through the streets
 

and the beautiful hand painted tiles.


Remembering your stately old buildings--ornate and regal,

 

your quaint little homes


 your cathedrals





your castles I've treaded.
 
 


I'm missing your city centers with shops spanning in every direction
 
 
 
 

I'm missing your warm, homemade pão (bread) sold for a few centimos in the little shops and the feiras that offered everything from fresh lobster, to handcrafted sweaters.

I'm missing your trains and your buses and your beautiful bridges


 and the Madeira Island

 
 

{Which was even gorgeous in the rainy winter}

I'm missing the walks and trips we took on P-days


how close we grew as a family

and all of the fun we had as sisters.




 

I'm missing our noble home that sat on the brink of Porto...

 

elegant staircases, dark wood panel wainscot, and {my} old ivory piano.
 

I miss the royal charm of our home.  I felt like a princess while I was there. And then I realized that I didn't need a home to make me feel that way...it was part of my Divine heritage.

I'm missing opening my two windows to the fresh sunrise and seeing how the rain had transformed the view overnight.
 

{These were the views from my windows}

 I'm missing walking to the market and coming home--arms laden with fresh fruit.
 

I'm missing the stares and the smiles.  The hard shells that crack so easily and invite you into hearts forever.
 

I'm missing the walks to seminary at our purple tiled chapel.
 

I'm even missing the bejinhos.  More than I ever thought I would.

I miss the Zone Conferences and the missionaries in their starched white shirts and suits.
 

I miss the daily feel of my testimony doubling in strength.

In short, dear Portugal, I miss everything about you and everything about me when I was there.
 
 

Most of all, I miss the ocean.
 

Sometimes I remember just how it sounded crashing up against the rocks in Leça da Palmeira.
 

The sun would set and the lighthouse would begin to glow it's perfect three-point light.

I used to pretend it was my lighthouse.

I still believe it is.
 
I spent hours pondering about life and the future and the gospel while looking up to the lighthouse as my inspiration.

With it's little cottage to the side, it stood as a symbol for me of what I wanted my life to be.

I started building "my cottage" while I lived on your soil--right next to my Savior's lighthouse.

And I promised myself that I would always be the keeper of the lighthouse.  Shining His light for others to see.  Shining for those who decided to play on the edge of the waves and were lost when darkness fell.  I often think of that symbol and hope I am living up to what I committed to do more than five years ago.

The last night I was there on your sacred ground, I watched the sun set by my lighthouse and knew that the sun was setting on a special, sacred chapter of my life.

  And I wondered if ever again the sun would rise for me in Portugal.

 

  I shed too many tears to count.  They were lost in the sand beneath my feet.

And then I came home and started another glorious chapter.

But ever since that time I have yearned to return to another sunrise--another sweet chapter in my beloved Portugal.

And while it will be a short chapter, my sweetheart and I have determined to return for the special sunrise that will accompany the dedication of the newly announced temple.

I always promised myself I would go back when a temple was built.

And I will.  We will.

This past year I have come to recognize how often the Lord shows His hand in our lives...that is, if we have eyes to see and ears to hear.

His hand was there just a few days ago on that bright Saturday morning of General Conference.

Little did I know when I woke up that morning that President Monson would annouce 5 new temples.  And the first...would be Lisbon, Portugal.
 

It wasn't a coincidence that my father, my mother, my two sisters, myself, and my husband were all seated together in the Conference Center for this session.

It was a tender mercy from the Lord.

Reminding me that He loves me and that He hasn't forgotten about my beloved Portugal...

or my family.

There was a rare stillness that hung in the air as President Monson announced the temples.  I honestly could not believe the words that I heard.  When the moment of electricity arrived, my heart tried to leap out and cry aloud for joy.  But I suppressed my emotion to silent, thankful tears for the miracle that had just occurred.

The next few minutes were thus spent in weeping as images flashed through my mind of all of my friends and acquaintances, the dear Saints of Portugal.
 


I could imagine the joy and surprise and faith in each face as they no doubt shouted in praise and cried and prayed.  Just as they did when we rounded the bend to the temple in Madrid, Spain--a nine hour bus ride from Porto, Portugal.

 

And how much greater and more joyful their praise must have been when a temple was announced for their very own land.
 

I wish I could have been in each and every chapel throughout the country when the temple was pronounced.  I wish I could have been a part of their rejoicing.

I still cry every time I even think about it.

Because I love them.

And you, dear Portugal, still hold such a large part of my heart.

I suppose you always will.

When you give up so much in behalf of a country and a people, you just can't help but leave a piece of your heart with them....forever.

It's hard for me to express my sentiments because they are too deep, profound, and sacredly sweet.

The closest I can come to transmitting the feelings of my heart is to quote the great missionary Ammon:

"Therefore, let us glory, yea, we will glory in the Lord; yea, we will rejoice, for our joy is full; yea, we will praise our God forever.  Behold, who can glory too much in the Lord?  Yea, who can say too much of his great power, and of his mercy, and of his long-suffering towards the children of men?  Behold, I say unto you, I cannot say the smallest part which I feel."

-Alma 26:17
 

But even without everything expressed, somehow you know, Portugal, what I am feeling.

Because I am a part of you, and you will always be a part of me.

Para sempre.

querido País.

Meu País.  Nosso País.

Com meu amor profundo,

tua Jamiezinha