Distractions

I don't know how you feel about these people:

Apparently, they are quite controversial. For the most part, I really admire them. I don't agree with all of their philosophies (and Greg cannot stand that his name is "Jim Bob." Every time the show is on, he always says, "Why doesn't he just go with 'Jim'?" I think his name is actually James, which makes me wonder how one gets "Jim" from "James" or "Bill" from "William" or "Dick" from "Richard". It just doesn't make sense. They aren't shortened nicknames, they are completely different names. Why don't people just name their children the name by which they will be called?).

Anyway...I digress.

I don't agree with all of their philosophies, but I greatly admire parents that are willing to bring so many children into the world and teach them all and love them so much. It boggles my mind how a mother can plan and prepare just to meet the physical needs of 19 children, but Michelle Duggar seems to do that and manage to truly love each child and find joy in having them around with astounding patience and true dedication. It is amazing.

The other day, I had their show on while folding laundry. Doing laundry for 7 people seems so manageable when I compare it to their household. Anyway, during this episode, Jim Bob and Michelle were sitting at the kitchen table trying to finish up their 2nd book. Every couple of minutes, another child came up needing something-a face wiped, a diaper changed, help with some schoolwork, a snack, etc. Then, it had a little clip of Jim Bob (cheerily) explaining that it was a little challenging to get their work done with all of the distractions.

The point of my post and my lesson for the day:

Next, it had a little clip of Michelle responding to her husband's statement. To paraphrase, she said something like this: "Well, I wouldn't call them 'distractions.' The children are our priority; the book is the distraction."

I don't know how many times I am trying to get something done, and I get frustrated and lose my patience because I am distracted by my kids. I don't know how many times I get on the phone or the computer to make an important call or send an necessary email and all chaos breaks loose in the house. The other day, I caught Kade jumping on a bag of chips to get it open while I was trying to fill out insurance papers. Or right now, as I write this, Spencer is "coloring" on the table while Kade is pushing all of our chairs to the corner of the house. The only problem, Spencer was sitting on the chair and I intervened as Spence was holding onto the table by his fingertips. Last week, Paige managed to go through an entire box of Band-Aids during a piano lesson.

I need to change my attitude. These kids are my first priority; everything else comes second. These kids were not given to me to be an afterthought. These kids are my greatest blessings and I have no right getting frustrated when I perceive that they are"interfering" with my life.

The First Concerto

Love this kid:

He turned 10 yesterday...TEN! I'm not sure how that happened. I remember when I turned 10, and my grandmother told me that I'll be double-digits for the rest of my life. T.E.N. (But more to come on his birthday). I took this picture at swimming:

While I was editing it, it struck me that I'm not looking at a little boy anymore. This is a picture of a big kid. His chest seems wider to me or something. It was a surreal moment.

In May, Austin started with a new piano teacher. When we met for the first time, she was explaining her protocol with me and recitals and festivals, etc. She mentioned that they do a Concerto Festival in November and asked if Austin would be interested. I thought that he would, but didn't think much more about it.

A few weeks later, Austin was assigned his piece for the festival: a 31-page Concerto duet meant for 2 pianos. Granted it is a duet, but still...31-pages?!? When I was 9-years-old, I had never played 31 pages (or even 16 pages, if you account for the duet). In fact, I'm pretty sure that I have never played a piece even close to 16 or 31 pages. I was quite surprised by not only the length, but the difficulty of the piece. After Austin had gone to bed, I sat down and played it. It is a pretty challenging song. I was quite doubtful that he would be able to pull it off. I wondered if perhaps his teacher hadn't evaluated his level correctly or something. Of course I never vocalized any of these doubts in front of Austin, but I was definitely concerned that he had gotten in over his head.

Although he never said anything, Austin was quite overwhelmed at first. But I just tried to be really encouraging and I helped him as he started. The first week, he didn't even play anything; he clapped the rhythm every day. And he just started with the first little section-maybe a page and a half or so. After that, he practiced that small portion with his right hand only. A week later, he started on his left hand. Finally, and very slowly, he practiced his hands together. Once he got that section down, they repeated the process on the next small section of the song. Occasionally, he needs to go back and practice a handful of measures over and over again to perfect the notes or the timing. He just keeps working at it, and before he realizes it, he has another small section learned.

The other day, I picked up the music and realized that he is already 11 pages into this song, essentially 1/3 of the way. I was shocked that by following the process of practicing small chunks, starting slowly and gradually building up to speed, and really focusing on those areas that need a little extra attention, he has progressed quite far in just 2 months. I am absolutely positive that by the time the festival rolls around in November, he'll be ready. I'm so excited to hear the finished product.

I've thought a lot about how this is a parable for our lives. Sometimes, when we are given trials or challenges, it seems like a large mountain stands in our way (or in Austin's case, a 31-page concerto). It seems too overwhelming to conquer if we are looking at the entire scope of the situation. It seems like there are no answers. And yet...we are asked to wake up every morning, get out of bed, put one foot in front of the other, and try our best. We try to conquer just what that day has given us (perhaps a small section of the overall problem or challenge). We take it slowly and carefully and (if we are smart) asking for assistance through prayer. Eventually, we look back and realize that we have actually made a little progress. We realize that the more we try, the more we work, it may even become a little easier (sometimes). We realize that we really have no choice but to try and endure and do our best.

Sister Marjorie Hinckley sums up everything I am trying to say:

• There are some years in our lives that we would not want to live again. But even these years will pass away, and the lessons learned will be a future blessing.

• God is what He is because He knows everything. And the beautiful thing-perhaps the thing I love most about the gospel-is that everything we learn we can use and take with us and use it again. No bit of knowledge goes wasted. Everything you are learning now is preparing you for something else. Did you know that? What a concept!

• Elder Neal A. Maxwell once said, "We are here in mortality, and the only way to go is through; there isn't any around!" I would add, the only way to get through life is to laugh your way through it. You either have to laugh or cry. I prefer to laugh. Crying gives me a headache.