Sarah McLachlan and Adoption

I used to have a very strict rule of No Christmas Music Until After Thanksgiving. But, I happened to marry a guy who likes to listen to Christmas music on random days throughout the year. As a result, I've found my rule slowly going out of style. So, this year I started listening to Christmas music on the Monday before Thanksgiving. Which, is a huge deal for me!

I love listening to old classics like Bing Crosby, Nat King Cole, Fred Astaire... they remind me of my Mom's old record player and picking out her records to play during the holidays. Such great memories! I expanded my Christmas music collection last year when I bought Sarah McLachlan's Christmas CD, which is full of great songs! Most CDs only have one or two really good songs... not this one. I love every single song on this CD. So, if you're looking for something new to listen to this time of year, I highly recommend Sarah's Wintersong CD (at this site you can listen to samples of all the songs on the CD).

Here is a video of Sarah performing the title song of the CD:


I first started listening to her music about ten years ago and she has become one of my favorites that has passed the test of time. I love her music, I love the depth of her lyrics, I love her voice... and I've recently learned something new about Sarah that makes me love her even more.

She was adopted.

Sarah McLachlan was born in Halifax, Nova Scotia, to a woman named Judy James (or Kaines; sources differ) and was adopted soon afterwards by an American couple living in Canada, Jack and Dorice McLachlan, who have two other adopted children.

From the age of four McLachlan was a singer and played the ukulele, and studied music later at the Nova Scotia Royal Conservatory. She joined a band called October Game when she was 17 but did not become a full-time musician until after completing her education at the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design.

It was during her time at NSCAD in 1986 that one source claims a friend remarked on her resemblance to another friend of hers, who turned out to be her birth mother. They now have a continuing friendly relationship.
(Information from http://www.adoption.com/)

I love hearing other peoples' adoption stories. I have grown to love all things related to adoption. So, on this last day of National Adoption Month, I just want to say that I love adoption. I am so grateful for the chance it gives us to grow our family. Not only do we look forward to welcoming a child into our home, but we also look forward to expanding our family to include the birth family, who we will love forever. Words can't express the feelings we feel.

Trailing clouds of glory...

Today my heart is full. I got a phone call early this morning from my little sister, Mandi. She was calling to let me know that she's at the hospital, awaiting the soon arrival of her first child, a baby girl. I am overwhelmed with feelings of love, joy, and excitement at her news. My thoughts and prayers are with her today as she has this most sacred experience of bringing a sweet little spirit into the world today.

I thought I'd post one of my favorite poems and a couple of my favorite quotes. Babies truly are miracles, such precious gifts from God.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting
The soul that rises with us, our life's star
Hath had elsewhere its setting
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forget fulness,
And not in utter nakedness
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God who is our home.

- William Wordsworth

About sixty years ago, F. M. Bareham wrote the following:

"A century ago (in 1809) men were following with bated breath the march of Napoleon and waiting with feverish impatience for news of the wars. And all the while in their homes babies were being born. Who could think about babies? Everybody was thinking about battles. In one year between Trafalgar and Waterloo there stole into the world a host of heroes: Gladstone was born in Liverpool; Tennyson at the Somersby Rectory; and Oliver Wendall Holmes in Massachusetts. Abraham Lincoln was born in Kentucky, and music was enriched by the advent of Felix Mendelssohn in Hamburg." (We might add, and Joseph Smith was born in Vermont, four years earlier.)

Quoting Bareham further:
"But nobody thought of babies, everybody was thinking of battles. Yet which of the battles of 1809 mattered more than the babies of 1809? We fancy God can manage His world only with great battalions, when all the time He is doing it with beautiful babies."

To quote Spencer W. Kimball on this topic:

"When a wrong wants righting, or a truth wants preaching, or a continent wants discovering, God sends a baby into the world to do it. While most of the thousands of precious infants born every hour will never be known outside their neighborhoods, there are great souls being born who will rise above their surroundings.....one mother gives us a Shakespeare, another a Michelangelo, and other an Abraham Lincoln. When theologians are reeling and stumbling, when lips are pretending and hearts are wandering, and people are running to and fro, seeking the word of the Lord and cannot find it - when clouds of error need dissipating and spiritual darkness needs penetrating and heavens need opening, a little infant is born."

Marathon Madness

I came across this video the other day and it made me laugh so hard! It's title is: The Day after the Marathon. Those runners out there will really appreciate this:



My good friend, Camille, first introduced me to the idea of running a marathon while we were out running early one morning down the cobblestone streets in Mestre (just outside of Venice). She had run quite a few marathons before coming to Italy and assured me I could definitely do it, too. So, we decided when we were both back in the States the following year, we'd run the St. George marathon together. And, we did. And, then we did it again the next year. And... then... I got married.

I stopped running marathons for a couple of different reasons, but have always had the urge to pick it up again. The whole experience is so cleansing - physically, emotionally, and mentally. The months leading up to it require discipline in eating healthy and getting out to build up stamina and distance. And, then comes the day to run all 26.2 miles at the same time. The adrenaline is high, the excitement unmatched.

I don't know how it is for others, but I know for me there comes a point when the excitement wears off and the running is no longer about physical strength... it becomes completely mental. That's about the point when I start singing the chorus of this song (please enjoy this flashback to the retro 80s):



And, then before you know it you're coming down the last stretch... that ".2" that some people leave off when they talk about marathons, that ".2" that almost seems like ".2" more than what you can do after completing the 26. When I crossed the finish line in 2001, I was giddy with laughter. I had actually completed my first marathon and had accomplished my goal of running the entire time. Success!

2002 was a different story. I hadn't trained as hard, partly out of thinking I didn't need to since "I had already run a marathon," and partly because I had been too busy planning my wedding to run 10-15 miles a day. So, when I reached mile SEVEN I was in so much pain I told myself, "at the next mile marker, you can give up and be escorted down the rest of the way." Well, I got to mile 8 and thought, "okay, I'll just go to the next one, then I'll quit." Those thoughts literally went through my mind for the entire remaining 19 miles. My physical abilities helped me to only get through the first seven miles, after that it had to come from somewhere else. The moment I crossed the finish line, I burst into tears. Marc was waiting there for me and I collapsed into his arms with jelly-belly size tears gushing down my cheeks. The second marathon was much more emotional for me than the first.

Somehow I had finished. Somewhere deep inside I had found something to keep me moving forward. And, on that marathon course I learned a lot about the strength of the human mind and spirit. While my body was telling me, "you can't do this, you didn't train as hard as you should have, you don't have it in you to finish," my mind was telling me a different story - "don't give in yet, just go a little bit further, just one more mile." Those thoughts literally carried me to the finish line.

Sometimes life throws hard experiences our way, and sometimes in the midst of those hard things we are overwhelmed with negative thoughts that try to convince us to throw in the towel - "just give up now", "it isn't worth it", "you're not good enough", "you're not strong enough", "you'll never make it, so don't bother trying." Those are the moments we need to turn up the volume from deep within, relying on strength that surpasses all physical strength to get us through. Sometimes that is simply breaking down the challenge into more manageable pieces - just tackling it one piece at a time, or one day at a time, or even one hour at a time. And, before long, the challenge has been overcome and we have crossed the finish line.

There might be giant tears and achy muscles, but there will also be deeper joy than we would have ever imagined when we learn how strong we really are. And, the only way to really learn that is by going all the way through those hard things and then coming out on top and seeing how far we've come and how deep we had to dig to get there. And, the thing I'm learning is that the joy waiting at the finish line is always worth it. Always.

Giving Thanks

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! We had been planning on spending the holiday with Marc's family in Seattle, but plans changed at the last minute and we weren't able to make it. We were sad to not be able to spend this week with them... didn't get to go on a morning run with Calamity and didn't get to experience Carrot's Thanksgiving party that Martha Stewart would have been jealous of. We missed being with all of Marc's family, especially seeing all of our energetic nieces and nephews. Yeah, while we had a fabulous day yesterday, it really was quite boring compared to our usual huge family get together. We promise to make it up there... soon! :)

The worst part of not being with family this year was that rather than providing my pan of yummy yams, I had to provide everything (with Marc's help, of course). It wasn't the first time I've prepared a meal like this, but it was my first time cooking a turkey! In the past I've done other things like chicken breast stuffed with stuffing. But, I decided it was high time I learn how it's done. I was chatting with my little sister on Wednesday and asked her if she knew how to cook a turkey, fully expecting that since she's younger than me that there's no way she would already have learned to do it before me. Well, not only has she done it, she already has a "tried and true" recipe. So, then I really knew it was about time to learn. Plus, with the recipe came an emergency hotline, available all day, just for me! (Thanks, Mandi, you're the best!)

I was feeling quite overwhelmed with terminology like "gizzards" and "truss the turkey," and had asked Marc for moral support in the kitchen when I'd have to do those things. His response: "do I have to?" You see, my dear husband has an even more sensitive gag reflex than me. So, luckily I was wearing my Wonder Woman shirt (strategically). I took a deep breath and opened up that turkey, in true wonder woman fashion! Someone must have known that turkey would be coming to me, 'cause it was all cleaned out for me and I didn't even have to truss it! With all the anticipation and stress that went into making my first turkey, I was thrilled when it turned out great! It was juicy and filled the house with the most savory aroma!

Notice the "Wonder Woman" shirt! Honestly, every time I looked at my shirt, I thought about how blessed I am to be related to so many wonder women - my mom, my mother-in-law, my sisters, my sisters-in-law, and the list could go on and on - they all inspire me and bless my life so much! Thanks to them and their tutoring I'm not a complete failure in the kitchen!



Over all, it was a really nice day. I really enjoyed the process of putting together an elaborate feast for just the two of us. (Well, and Einstein and Watson were lucky enough to taste a little turkey, too. They didn't express any gratitude, but the ultra-fast movement of their licking tongues was really thanks enough.)


The thing I like the most about Thanksgiving is the reminder behind the celebration that we have much to be grateful for... because we really do! So, here's a combined "Top 5" blessings that Marc and I are grateful for: 5) a warm home, 4) the scriptures, 3) adoption, 2) family and friends, and 1) each other. And, just for fun, here are some other blessings that get honorable mention: foggy days, talents and hobbies, starry nights, socks, movies, hot cocoa with peppermint ice cream, toothpaste, chocolate, and (or course) Einstein and Watson. We really are so blessed!

You know, though, the overwhelming feeling I get around this time of year is wishing I could remember to be grateful for all of these things every other day of the year. So, as a closing thought, here's a quote from a really great talk about gratitude by Henry B. Eyring:

"[Y]ou could ask yourself, “How did God bless me today?” If you do that long enough and with faith, you will find yourself remembering blessings. And sometimes, you will have gifts brought to your mind which you failed to notice during the day, but which you will then know were a touch of God’s hand in your life."

What ice cream flavor are you?

*DISCLAIMER: I had to convince Marc to let me post his results, because he doesn't agree with the results at all. He thinks he should have been declared "Peppermint" (I'm not even sure if that is one of their possible results.) But, even when I tried to adjust his results to be something different, it still came up as Vanilla... well, and a couple of times it was "Coffee." I guess it's a good thing we don't depend on these silly quizes to define who we really are. :)

Marc is Vanilla - You're as popular and relaxing as vanilla ice cream. You go with the flow, and get along with all sorts of people. You appreciate peace and simplicity, so you sometimes find crowds and loud noises overwhelming. You are a chilled-out, calming influence on the people in your life, and your friends appreciate how supportive and flexible you are.


Megan is Strawberry - Your personality is as friendly and appealing as strawberry ice cream (especially the kind with chunky bits of real fruit). You've got a slightly sarcastic sense of humor, and you rarely stress out or take things too seriously. You are cute and sweet, but with a mischievous side. You are a bit of a troublemaker, but only because you're determined to avoid a plain vanilla life.


(Does the last line in my description imply that I want to avoid life with Marc? If so, then we really know these results aren't accurate!) So, what are you? I want to see who gets "Chocolate" and then between the three of us we'll be Neopolitan!

Adoption Article

The motto that LDS Family Services uses in regards to Adoption is: It's about love. The more we get involved in adoption, the more we have been able to feel the truth of that statement. We have experienced such deep feelings of love that at times it's overwhelming. We've gotten to know some of the most incredible people through adoption, and have witnessed examples of pure, selfless love. We love birth mothers who have taught us so much about faith, courage, and love. Our life is blessed in so many ways by knowing them.

The following article is a story about a young girl and her experience with adoption. We hope it might be a comfort and a help to someone out there. You are not alone!



“My Decision"

There comes a time in everyone’s life when he or she must turn to our Heavenly Father for help and have faith in His eternal wisdom. During times of trial and repentance, we feel only the pain. But after the pain has gone, we begin to understand.

As a young woman fifteen years old, I found myself in a situation that I thought would never happen to me. I was pregnant. My initial fear of being caught in my sins quickly changed to anticipation of the fairy-tale marriage of which I had always dreamed. However, I soon realized that marriage was not in my near future. The young man involved was not, unfortunately, willing to accept his share of the responsibility.

My life became a raging flood of emotions. I was excited as I listened to my friends talk of how wonderful it would be to have a baby. I was frightened as my mother lectured me about money problems, educational roadblocks, a strained social life, and the hardships of raising children. I felt guilty as I watched my father cry and thought about how much I had hurt him. I was angry and sorrowful as I cried over a lost love. And I felt unworthy of ever receiving forgiveness from my Heavenly Father.

Many people gave me advice. Some said I should have an abortion. Others talked of adoption. Public welfare was an option suggested by some. I considered the possibility of keeping my baby. An aunt even offered to take the baby and raise it so that I could visit at any time.

I considered most of these options but also spent a great deal of time trying not to think about them. Maybe I thought the problem would go away or that someone would make the decision for me.

My family and friends were supportive. They encouraged me, counseled me, loved me, and accepted me. My friends tried to include me in all their activities, but I didn’t feel that I belonged with them anymore. I felt alienated, and the things they were doing no longer seemed fun or important.

Soon my family moved to another town twenty miles away. My mother said she had wanted to move for a long time to get closer to her work. But I knew that she decided to move mainly to help me start a new life. I will always be grateful for the chance I had to start anew.

The day we moved into our new house, the bishopric came over to help. We had a good visit, and the bishop seemed genuinely concerned. Within the week, he had called me in for an interview. We had a good long talk. But when he asked me about my plans for the future, I broke down and cried. I didn’t know! There I was, seven months pregnant, and I didn’t have any idea what I was going to do with the baby or myself. After I had calmed down, my bishop made me promise that I would go home and pray.

That night, for the first time in a long time, I knelt down by my bed and poured my heart out to my Heavenly Father. Working through the process of sincere repentance, I begged for God’s forgiveness and asked him to help me know what was best for me and my child. I will never forget the overwhelming feeling of peace and love that filled my soul that night. I heard the Spirit speaking to my mind, giving me words of comfort and encouragement. I knew that my Heavenly Father loved me and had heard my prayer.

Each night as I knelt in prayer, I felt the Spirit near me. I felt as Enos must have felt when he prayed all day and night for a remission of his sins. (See Enos 1:2–8.)

As the days went on, I knew in my heart what the Lord wanted me to do. I knew that I must place my child for adoption. But I tried to deny it, desperately seeking other options. For eight months I had carried this baby. I felt his movements. I heard his heartbeat. I felt that special bond of love that any mother feels for her baby. My eyes ached to see him, and my arms ached to hold him. He was part of me! How could I give him away?

However, my denial eventually changed to acceptance. I couldn’t deny the words the Spirit spoke to me each night. This was my trial of faith. I knew that if I was to receive the blessings I sought, I needed to have enough faith to make this sacrifice.

During the following month, the pain seemed unbearable. Each time I knelt in prayer, I begged the Lord to give my baby a good home with parents who would love him and care for him—someone who would teach him the gospel and teach him to love the Lord. I always received a peaceful reassurance that he would have a good home, but the pain was still there.

In the days after I made my decision, I spent a great deal of time in prayer. When my mother and I met with the person who would be handling the adoption, I knew I was in the right place. My prayers had been answered.

I later learned that when the couple selected to adopt my baby was contacted, the wife cried. When her husband came to the phone, he explained that he, his wife, and other family members had held a special fast on the previous weekend for the purpose of asking the Lord to send them a baby.

Their prayers had been answered. My prayers had been answered. I knew that my baby would have good parents to love him and teach him the gospel, and that they could give him much more than I could as a teenage mother.

The day came when I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. Even though it was a time of sorrow for me and my family, it was still exciting to participate in the miracle of birth.

After a special priesthood blessing given to me by my bishop, I began to realize that this baby didn’t belong to me alone. I had no claim on his life. He was meant to be the son of a special couple whom the Lord had chosen. It gives me great comfort to know that through faith and repentance, and through making a difficult decision, I was able to bring to pass a miracle for someone else.

Even with that knowledge, deciding upon adoption wasn’t easy. I have never had any regrets about my decision, but even after almost eleven years, I grieve for my son at times. I pray that someday, in either this life or the next, I’ll be able to meet him and talk with him.

Over the years, the Lord has blessed me beyond measure. I was able to finish school and get a good job. I have had the opportunity to be married in the temple to a wonderful man who loves me. I will never forget the feeling of pure joy I felt as I knelt across the altar from my eternal companion, knowing that I was clean before God.

I am grateful that I was able to gain such a strong testimony of faith, repentance, fasting, prayer, and our Savior’s love for me and for all his children. I could not have accomplished all that I have without my Heavenly Father by my side, guiding me with his wisdom and mercy. He was truly standing at the door and knocking. All I had to do was open the door and let him in.

Feelin' Groovy

This week has been crazy... and I haven't had time to keep the blog updated. I had a big presentation for one of my classes last night. I was really nervous all week while preparing for it. It went well, though, and I was so relieved to just have it out of the way. I came home last night and the exhaustion hit me bard. Imagine fighting sleep at 7:30pm. Yeah, I was sleepy. In my half-sleep state I was able to enjoy some escapism while watching Survivor and The Office, then stumbled my way to bed.

So, today I took it easy. Organized my desk area, cleaned the house, took a cat nap with Watson, ran some errands with Marc, went to dinner with some friends, and watched a movie afterwards with Marc. It was a nice way to end a busy week, and the perfect way to start the weekend. Hooray for weekends!

I was trying to figure out how to describe my day today and the thing that seems to best represent my day is this fantastic song by Simon and Garfunkel:



This song would have been on my "playlist" in high school. Only, since we didn't have playlists, it was on many of my "Mix" tapes. You know, cassette tapes that you record all your favorite songs to and listen to over and over until the tape dies? Yeah, I think I finally understand how people older than me felt when they talked about 8-tracks. And, it makes me wonder what we'll have in 10 years from now that will make playlists outdated....

I love songs like this that make me want to sit back, take a deep breath and just live in the moment. I feel like I spend way too much time worrying about the past or fearing what the future holds (or doesn't hold)... and today (with some conscious effort) I was able to just enjoy today. Which, reminds me of a book my Mom used to read to us when we were growing up... I'll have to tell you about that tomorrow, though, because Marc is already at the intermittent snoring stage of his sleeping. He told me he was just going to stretch out on the bed for a minute. ;)

So, sit back, slow down, enjoy the moment you're in.

Life, I love you. All is groovy.

Get Ready to Laugh!

This is so funny! H I L A R I O U S !!! Marc shared it with me today, and I just had to pass it on! :)