They are only four years old and look, already, what’s happening.

Must have something to do with this:

“ALL HUMAN BEINGS—male and female—are created in the
image of God. Each is a beloved spirit son or daughter of
heavenly parents, and, as such, each has a divine nature and
destiny. Gender is an essential characteristic of individual
premortal, mortal, and eternal identity and purpose.”

From: The Family, A Proclamation to the World

Man, I love this inspired document. Aren’t we blessed to have it?

Wrote Mr. Shakespeare.

And that guy knew what he was talking about.

As I drove our babysitter home tonight she and I talked about her brothers. She is the only girl in a family of six. We talked about what a mystery a brother is. I had spent the evening with one of my brothers who when we were growing up was a complete and total mystery to me, and as an adult has become one of my most cherished companions. I actually feel this way about all of my brothers. Ive always loved them – but for the first part of my life I felt that I didn’t KNOW them. Now that we’re all grown-ups I think I am starting to get them.

Back me up here if you know what I’m talking about.

I asked this sweet girl, our babysitter, if she ever felt lonely, not having a sister.

She said, “Yes.”

Then I told her about a conversation I had with Millie earlier that day as she and I drove to Staples together:

Millie: Mom, I want you to only pay attention to me not to Clara any more.

Me: Is that right?

Millie: Yes.

Me: Well, Clara is a baby and she needs me. What if she cries? What should we do about that?

Millie: Dad can get her.

Me: What if Dad is busy?

Millie: Well…we can just let her play.

Me: Hmmm. So you want more attention, huh?

Millie: Yes.

Me: Well, I am paying attention to you right now.

Millie: But Clara is asleep.

Ah, SISTERS!

If I know anything. I know sisters.

Mills, it is tough, right now. I get it. I remember searching for ways to get my mom’s attention too. I don’t think I ever came flat out and asked for it – but man, did I try to get it.

The truest and best kind of love, the love that Shakespeare was writing about, runs for years and years over the jagged rocks of “experience” that make up our relationships. The course is crazy – from the times when you put masking tape down the middle of the bedroom to the staying up late and giggling into the wee small hours of the night. When you’re inseparable, then when you can’t stand to look at each other. When tragedy strikes and you find the hope and strength you lack in your sisters’ eyes. Through all these ups and downs the most remarkable  LOVE emerges.

Right now she bugs. And she may bug you for a long, long, time – but the time will come when you wont be able to live without her.

I promise.

Right now you think this is the answer…

But as crazy as it may sound,

this is even better…

Happy, happy, happy birthday to YOU!

Let this post hereby be a testament to my profound love for you…in the last 48 hours I have suffered through severe food poisoning, while hosting my in-laws, while having all the valiant boys over to my house for a “bonding” session, while caring for my small family, while trying really hard not to lose my mind (you can’t lose your mind and your lunch at the same time – otherwise it is all over).

But here I am. To tell the world that I adore you and to take this opportunity to celebrate you on your birthday!

Cara, my sweet, dear friend – you are a treasure to me. Oh, what a treasure! I am not even sure where to begin…

For those of you who may not know Cara, let me tell you just a little bit about the wonder of her.

Cara is one of the kindest most positive people I know. She is simultaneously down to earth and as real as they come. She is a person you can trust your heart to. She is a great listener – and after she listens she showers her positive goodness all over you. The reason I know how much Cara means to me is that I often long for her most when I feel totally beaten down by the world. When I am at my most vulnerable is when I find my heart aching for her. And THAT is the mark of the truest and best kind of friend.

When it is raining and horrible – she is right there with open arms and a box of tissues and when the sun is shinning and you’re ready to party – YUP! she’s there then too!

She is a total and utter BLAST. Most people spell the word fun like this, F-U-N, but I like to spell it, C-A-R-A. Holy cow, is she fun! The laughs we’ve shared together have been colossal, stupendous, ginormous. Even the simple activity of trying things on in a dressing room together can turn into Saturday Night Live. I don’t know how she does it, but she  does it. She takes the ordinary moments and makes them sparkle.

She is so considerate of people’s feelings and the needs of those around her. If ever I have faced something particularly difficult – she has always been there. Once I remember I had something really hard happening and I had gone out of town. She knew the circumstance and she called me to check in, just to make sure I was okay. That is Cara. She is so kind and so considerate.

She is also one of the best moms I know. I feel it was such a gift to have her near me when I had Millie. I called her endlessly for advice – from what color to paint the nursery, to help on getting Millie to sleep through the night. And the proof is in the pudding – her kids are remarkable. I have watched her interact with them – studied her. I have noticed that when they talk she REALLY listens to them. She lets them be who they are – I think this takes real courage. I am learning just how much courage as I have to step back and let Millie be Millie (the good, the bad and the ugly). Again, she is fun. She takes true pleasure in her kids and in DOING things with them. She also doesn’t let them get away with being turds – this helps me too, to help my kids not get away with turd like behavior.

Cara is always pushing herself to be better. She is one of the few “A -type” personalities I know who only compeates with herself.  If Cara were competitive I might feel a little intimidated by her many talents, her vast drive and her ability to do so much and do it well. But Cara never tries to be better than other people – she just tries to do her best. It  so happens that her best is pretty stink’n awesome.

Cara is a doer – she wants to get out and DO. This is wonderful for me because I am more of a talker or a sitter, as the case may be. As the words of a great mind once said, “Sometimes I sits and thinks and sometimes I just sits.” Cara took this sitter in hand, and said, “So what should we DO?!”  I really miss our adventures together, now that we no longer reside in the same town. Although, one night Cara called me on the phone and said, “Hey, you wanna go to DSW with me?” and she and I had a shopping trip via the phone. It was such fun. Classic Cara.

My dear friend, how I love you!

How I love you.

How I love your beauty – that is both internal and external. How I love your kind heart. How I love your generous nature. How I have loved all that you have taught me by your shining example.

Happy Birthday!

(Dang it! I just read through this post and it only scratches the surface of all that you are…there is always next year to try to get it right!)

OH!

Where to begin?

Of the 34 years you’ve been alive you have spent seven of those years with me, your wife, Eliza J. Dawson. And I have endeavored to make your birthdays as wonderful as I could. (Remember when I tried to brow beat you into having a 30th birthday party – wasn’t that fun?!)

At least I am learning.

Slowly, but there is progress.

Now I just ask you what you want and give it to you — with only a small surprise thrown into the mix, like last year. (wink, wink)

Anyway,

I still remember when we were dating and you showed me your baby pictures.

That is when I knew I wanted to marry you.

Holy cow! Were you a little stunner.

WHAT would I have given to know you then?!

Seeing as you are a year older than me I can imagine that I watched you from heaven. I probably couldn’t help myself. You were so stink’n cute. I wonder if God let me be one of your guardian angels before I was sent to earth?

The other angels who kept a faithful vigil would see me swooning and wonder, “What is her deal?” and I would say, “One day that baby will grow up and be the man I marry. I’ll love him more than anyone in the whole world.” They would get it because you know, they’re angels and angels understand about love.

Anyway lets pull it back. Out of dream land and into reality.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

I know that I take your steadiness, your goodness, your kindness, your intelligence for granted every single day. So I am grateful for the chance to take stock and celebrate how much you mean to me and how grateful I am that you were born 34 years ago.

Would you mind if I briefly catalogued just a few of the reasons why I love you so?

I love how unflappable you are and I am grateful that despite my complete and utter flappability you somehow manage to just let it go. You even smile, a loving smile, when I go off on a tirade, have a spaz, or lose my mind. You let me be who I am without making me feeling like a total loser.  That is so kind of you, thanks.

I love to see you in action with our daughters.  You are not showy or flashy about the way you engage them – but with a gentle intensity you pay very close attention to what they are doing, and then you celebrate it. First by noticing how they are progressing and what they are doing, then you help stretch them further. You give them credit. You ask things of them that I don’t, then you show me, through your example that they are totally capable. They are so blessed to have you as a dad.

I love your brain. It is such a good one. Not only is it  packed with information, but I love how you take that information and break it down for me into bite sized pieces that I can understand. I love how your process all the information that you seem to endlessly cram into your brain. For example, I might read something about politics in the news paper that would outrage me. I would tell you about it and you would very calmly explain two or three other angles at which I could examine the story and come up with a very different conclusion.  You have an ability to do this with almost any subject in which you are well versed.

I love your sense of humor. I love your great big laugh. I can’t wait to share things with you in the hope that that great big laugh might come toppling out of you and fill my heart with delight.

I am grateful that you always look out for me – and find ways to help me. I know you have my best interest at heart. I feel so safe with you. I know that you would never ridicule me or knowingly hurt me. Remember the other night I came home and you had put Clara down successfully with a bottle and you could tell instantly that I was upset. You just held me then when you looked at me and saw that I had tears in my eyes you held me even tighter. You didn’t even understand why this would make me sad, all you knew was that I was sad and you were instantly on my side. Then you gave me the time to explain how wonderful and  hard it is for me to give Clara independence.

I feel like our marriage is made up of hundreds of moments like these. Moments of kindness and understanding.

I am so happy to be your wife. You are such a source of strength to me. I am grateful that you are honoring the commitments that you made to God and to me when we are married. If God were to come to me and ask me, “So, how is he doing?” I would give him the mushiest, gushiest report of the swell job that you are doing – as a husband, as a friend, as a provider, as a builder of his kingdom (he knows already, but if he were to ask, I would not hold back!)

I also love…your complete and utter dedication to the gospel, your enthusiasm for baseball, that you love to play basketball, the kindness you show to my family all the time, your generosity and that you support me in my efforts to be generous, your love of all things technological (and the ways you spend your effort helping me out in this department – whether it’s putting conference talks on my iPhone or helping me start a blog), and how you always make my birthday the most wonderful day of the year (I hope I do half as good a job).

I love you more than words can express.

Happy 34th birthday.

Last year on your birthday I gave you

a gift never to be topped

May this year be full of all that is good, and beautiful and true!

Love,

Lize

Covet thine own child’s wardrobe.

And I don’t, except for when I do…

I love helping get Millie dressed in the morning. I have been trying to figure out why it brings me such pleasure. I think it is a creative act and that is what makes it such fun. I stand at the closet and try to figure out which combination would work together. Like a living puzzle with infinite possibilities. The challenge is that I get one shot at it. I can’t ask Millie to try on a bazillion different combos. Ya know?  So it is the creative endeavor with the added challenge of figuring it out fast and getting it right the first time.

I think most of the time I hit the target. I may be the worst judge of my own efforts but I think she looks pretty dang cute most of the time. There was something special about her in this crazy polka dot number, something extra special, that even attracted her dad’s attention. He was the one who insisted on capturing this particular ensemble on film.

I’m glad he did.

I think this outfit matches her energy and her general ZIP.

“May all your days be polka-dotty and striped.”

About a year ago the application process began.

Then an interview.

Then the prayers began.

For months Millie prayed the same thing every night:

“Heavenly Father, Please bless that Uncle Eno will get into Columbia.”

(It took some practicing to learn to say, CO-LUM-BIA. But eventually, it was mastered)

The letter we’d all been waiting for came.

By random chance I read it to Ian over the phone (he was in the process of moving, had it mailed to our folks house in Provo, UT and I was there visiting when it arrived).

The news wasn’t horrible, but it wasn’t what Ian wanted.

He’d been wait listed.

He had to wait.

And we were given more time to pray and exercise our faith.

Night after night the same prayer ascended heavenward.

“Please bless Eno to get into Columbia”.

Months went by.

Then another call came – and another conversation took place. This time between Ian and Millie. They talked for a while then Millie looked up at us and said,

“Uncle Eno got into Columbia.”

Cue shouts of joy and dance of happiness.

Today we had the honor of being taken around campus by none other than our very own Eno, aka first year film student at Columbia University.

After all that praying I was keen for Millie to experience what an answered prayer looks and feels like.

You wanna see too?

BEHOLD!

What he showed us…

Mom, this is the building where Ian is going to spend the next two years of his life. I took lots of pictures especially for you so that you could imagine him in his new place. It is called “Dodge Hall”. Alli said she likes to think of it as, “Toad Hall”.

As you walk through these doors to your left you see…

and to your right…

Then you take this elevator

Up to the third floor (John will help you push the button, don’t worry!)

As you get off the elevator to your left you see –

and to your right –

Further down the hall is the main lecture hall. Ian says that his entire class fits into this room.

Back downstairs is –

We got the chance to meet Ian’s buddy, John. He is also LDS and the only other person, besides Ian, who clapped when during an opening social they were calling out things like, “clap if you’re from New York, Clap if you love peanut butter and jelly.” — “CLAP IF YOU’RE CONSERVATIVE” — cricket, cricket — clap, clap — as the two lone conservatives, Ian and John, gave it their all! (Bless their courageous hearts! I’m not sure I would have had the guts to clap in that arena! Politics aside, I am impressed they had the guts to own up to their convictions the first chance they were given.)

Back outside – here is where you can get the view from Dodge Hall. I love this picture. You made need to click on it to really see it properly. It just captures every-one’s personality in such a fun way.

stroller escapee –

That is all I have steam to show you. (we’ll post all the photos on our flickr page)

One last thing.

As we were looking around Allison grabbed me and said, “Look at this!”

Right there carved in stone! A message from heaven. A reminder of what we are all here to do.

To my little brother Ian: I would imagine that these next three years will be full of trials, victories, good times and hard times. In all the hustle and bustle- if you ever catch sight of this motto as you’re running around campus photo copying,  studying, editing footage etc, etc… I hope it will remind you that we, in our circle of influence, will be trying to do the same thing you are doing while you are pursuing your education, and even more that we are still praying for your success!

Just the other day Jan was recounting to me about a study, recently conducted, where they discovered that people who muli-task end up doing all the tasks, which they are attempting to do simultaneously, BADLY.

Man, I could have just told them this! (I sure hope they didn’t spend a boat load of money to conduct this study.)

Case in point: ME

The other day as I was helping Millie put a super girl costume together while…talking on the phone, tidying the house, and attending to the needs of my almost one year old baby…In the midst of this flurry of activity, otherwise known as, “multi-tasking” I got distracted and one of the tasks only got half way completed.

See if you can spot which task only got half way done.

I thought for sure she’d crawled out of her diaper or somehow managed to muscle her way of out it.

Nope. Upon further investigation I discovered that the soiled diaper was wrapped up like a little football and  next to it was the diaper which never made it onto Clara’s sweet bottom, right where I’d left it.

Doomed.

That’s what I am!

To multi-tasking mediocrity.

Having recently graduated from the BY of U my brother Chas is on the hunt for a career.

Search no further, my bro. I have found it!!

You could be Ralph Finnes’ double! Or, even better, you could always play Ralph whenever a younger version of him was required. Eh? Eh? What do you say…

Check it out:

(Ernest, pensive – good, good! That is SO Ralph!)

(Like the intensity here, Chas – you’ll need that when you’re playing Ralph)

(Ah, the softer side. He does have that too, you’ll totally nail that!)

Oooooh, so now this gets a little harder. But Chas, if I could do Lady Macbeth – I know you could conquer Lord Voldemort.

Lets just break it down. (That always helps.)

Step one.

This doesn’t seem too hard, right? I mean you take the make-up and costume away, and this is what it boils down to.

Alright, yes, Chas!  This is going in the right direction. I mean, I think by involving a small vulnerable child you’re getting closer – but I think you need to be a bit meaner.

See, what he is doing here? Maybe if you did some scrunching motions with your hands like Ralph.

Okay, okay this is getting a little closer. Not quite there YET, but  there is time.

We’ll keep working on it. Remember to keep “Loose, relaxed, FREE!” and you’ll get there eventually.

Bro, what do you think? Are you seeing the massive potential here that I am seeing?!

My little girl starts her second year of pre-school tomorrow. I know I am not alone in the feelings I am experiencing tonight. I would imagine every mother the world over has been feeling more or less what I’ve been feeling.  A combination of elation, sadness, anxiety – – that oh, so special “back to school” pit in your stomach feeling that hits me every year even though I am no longer a student.

As I lay in her bed next to her talking her through what tomorrow will bring, listening to her fears I thought of my other family members who are students too. Tess starting her freshman year of college, sweet little Khali braving her first year of kindergarten, Parker battling the halls of high school, Brynn mustering all her courage to face another semester and Bette trying to look feminine on a film set (because a certain person has laid down a challenge) I also thought of my brother Ian who has also gone back to school this fall after being a professional for the past four years.

Ian and I spoke on the phone tonight. I listened as things just bubbled out of him; his strategies for dealing with all the darkness that film school entails – watching the R rated films, how to deal with his wacky directing teacher, which computer to buy, how to get into his studying rhythm and so forth. Ultimately what I sensed was him grappling with how to be himself, a conservative, Mormon film-maker in a liberal arts school.

I remember that feeling very well. Trying to remain pure in very muddy waters. Trying to be brave, to be a witness to the good that is within you. Trying to stand up for what you believe.

Millie only faces pre-school, but she too must find a way to be who she is – and to shine forth – as she gets bumped and buffeted by the big bad world.

We all face this: The challenge to be true, authentic, to let the world see who we are.

I was looking through the pictures I took of my girls today and was reminded of one of my favorite pieces of writing. It has a special place in my heart because I adapted it for my drama school audition. It is from Annie Dillard’s,  An American Childhood. (I have edited it down a bit for the sake of this post).

It is an account of Annie walking home from school as a little girl. (The little girl in the photos Millie – thought I ‘d let you know seeing as she is “in disguise”, wink, wink.)

I was running down the Penn Avenue sidewalk, revving up for an act of faith. I was conscious and self-conscious. I knew well that people could not fly–as well as anyone knows it–but I also knew the kicker: that, as the books put it, with faith all things are possible.

Just once I wanted a task that required all the joy I had.

There were boxy yellow thirties apartment buildings on those Penn Avenue blocks, and the Evergreen Café, and Miss Frick’s house set back behind a wrought-iron fence. There were some side yards of big houses, some side yards of little houses, some streetcar stops, and a drugstore…

I ran the sidewalk full tilt. I waved my arms ever higher and faster; blood balled in my fingertips. I knew I was foolish. I knew I was too old really to believe in this as a child would, out of ignorance; instead I was experimenting as a scientist would, testing both the thing itself and the limits of my own courage in trying it miserably self-conscious in full view of the whole world. You can’t test courage cautiously, so I ran hard and waved my arms hard, happy.

Up ahead I saw a business-suited pedestrian. He was coming stiffly toward me down the walk. Who could ever forget this first test, this stranger, this thin young man appalled? I banished the temptation to straighten up and walk right. He flattened himself against a brick wall as I passed flailing–although I had left him plenty of room. He had refused to meet my exultant eye. He looked away, evidently embarrassed. How surprisingly easy it was to ignore him! What I was letting rip, in fact, was my willingness to look foolish, in his eyes and in my own. Having chosen this foolishness, I was a free being. How could the world ever stop me, how could I betray myself, if I was not afraid?

I was flying. My shoulders loosened, my stride opened, my heart banged the base of my throat. I crossed Carnegie and ran up the block waving my arms. I crossed Lexington and ran up the block waving my arms.

What’s a heart for?

I crossed Homewood and ran up the block. The joy multiplied as I ran–I ran never actually quite leaving the ground–and multiplied still as I felt my stride begin to fumble and my knees begin to quiver and stall. The joy multiplied even as I slowed bumping to a walk. I was all but splitting, all but shooting sparks. Blood coursed free inside my lungs and bones, a light-shot stream like air. I couldn’t feel the pavement at all.

I was too aware to do this, and had done it anyway. What could touch me now? For what were the people on Penn Avenue to me, or what was I to myself, really, but a witness to any boldness I could muster, or any cowardice if it came to that,

I wasn’t going to give up on heaven for the sake of dignity on earth.

I had not seen a great deal accomplished in the name of dignity, ever.

GO FOR IT! SHINE ON! F L Y!

You can do it!

are actually pretty dang swell.

1. Your mom makes you “a nest” on the sofa.

2. She sleeps in the bed next to yours all through the night.

3. She makes sure you always have this near you.

4. When you use this bowl, she holds your hair back, rubs your back and tells you, “everything is going to be okay”.

5. When you can’t eat anything your dad goes out and buys a special drink for you.

6. Your once grubby cats, Lullaby and Rosey, get “a bath” in the washing machine and now smell like lavender and vanilla.

I hear tell that some people say a trial can be a blessing.

A gift.

A joy.

What would you say, Mills?

One thing is for sure, your mom and dad love you.

P.S. Is it not cool that a blog post can turn two really hard days into a happy memory? You never thought a bowl used for catching  throwing-up could be romantic, did ya? But right here on dawesome, it is, baby!

P.P.S. Mom, I wish I lived closer so that I could take care of you too. Get well soon, my momma-dukes! Enjoy them percoset while the doctor says they are legal…