Good(bye) Friday

Bob and Dad early 1940's, Logan Utah

Good Friday.

What a dumb day to die...

That's something I thought just hours after saying a final good bye to my Dad, Easter weekend , a year ago. Not because it was Good Friday but, because I realized that there would most often be two days a year associated with his death, Good Friday and the actual date....Nice, just the thing I want to remember twice a year....

I can't believe (almost) a year has passed, since the Good Friday we said good bye, but time, simply moves on. Grant took me away this weekend to celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary (a week from tomorrow) and it was lovely. Spending Friday with dear friends, in a beautiful place made for a happy day. My heart at times felt the pains of grief, I can't deny that but I was quickly reminded that I am loved and have dear friends and a not too shabby husband that ease that heart ache, mostly without even knowing it.

Then today...
We caught Church in Port Alberni our old home ward, on our way home from Ucluelet.  One of the speakers quoted one of my favourite talks of all time. Sunday Will Come as part of his talk.

On that Friday the Savior of mankind was humiliated and bruised, abused and reviled.

It was a Friday filled with devastating, consuming sorrow that gnawed at the souls of those who loved and honored the Son of God.

I think that of all the days since the beginning of this world’s history, that Friday was the darkest.

But the doom of that day did not endure.

The despair did not linger because on Sunday, the resurrected Lord burst the bonds of death. He ascended from the grave and appeared gloriously triumphant as the Savior of all mankind......

 

Each of us will have our own Fridays—those days when the universe itself seems shattered and the shards of our world lie littered about us in pieces. We all will experience those broken times when it seems we can never be put together again. We will all have our Fridays.

But I testify to you in the name of the One who conquered death—Sunday will come. In the darkness of our sorrow, Sunday will come.

No matter our desperation, no matter our grief, Sunday will come. In this life or the next, Sunday will come.

 

 

As I have had a year to reflect on the Good Friday we said goodbye...yes that day felt earth shattering, overwhelming and devastatingly lonely but..... We stand here a year later.... stronger than before, sad hearts buoyed up with faith that we will once again see my Dad again and that that goodbye on Good Friday was only for now. Sunday will come.

 

I am thankful for the lessons of Fridays and oh so grateful for the blessings of Sundays.

 

Dad, I love you. Until we meet again.

 

D#$% That Bunny! :)

 

 

After Halloween, the Easter Bunny is my next least favourite holiday tradition...I have always felt it was rather pointless, I know bad parent.

 

Last week when the rug rats realized the Super hero and I were celebrating our 20th wedding anniversary far, far away from them and it was on Easter weekend...They started slathering the guilt on thick. "You skipped last Easter too!" Kay,  well by Dad passed away last year so I get a free pass...

 

But the slight guilt trip worked and today I got the Easter Bunny stuff so my "orphans" will not feel left out on Sunday...

 

 My thoughts exactly....and no I did not take that picture like that intentionally, well at least not consciously :).

 

 

I even sewed drawstring bag instead of baskets (awww always the perfect homemaker;)) ...Mainly to avoid that dang Easter grass, that stuff has been band in our home since 1996, same as glitter, those tiny freezies(the wrappers replicate), bubble gum, silly bandz and a myriad of other products that wreck my vacuum.

Don't Miss The Miracle

***WARNING....I'm a little Churchy in this one :)***


Dallyn and Superman are wrestling in the kitchen...We are sitting as a family watching a movie, after 8 pm...Superman offers to take Alex to the dentist...Our life is so normal, if I didn't look closer I would completely miss the miracle happening here.

For the last two years its been one crisis after another and I have often felt like we were just jumping from rock to rock in the midst of a lava field, hanging on for dear life, with no view or even possibility of safety...ever. And that was just the life we were destined to live...forever.

I couldn't see past Grant's illness; my Dad's death; the mountain of paperwork for lawyers, accountants in two countries, disgruntled teenagers, not to mention just the daily grind of life. All I could see was an immense mountain blocking our path.

When Grant was released from the bishopric, I hit a new low. And my mountain grew into an Everest. Our last piece of the normal life before Grant's relapse was now gone too. "My life will never feel normal again...ever"

Nobody will ever see past our trails, illnesses, weakness, mistakes or hardships, again...ever. We will always be THAT family......

How could anyone see past our difficulties if...if I couldn't.

"I know so many people are praying for your family Robin, good things are ahead, I just know it" a dear friend told me not that long ago...

I wanted to believe that a miracle was coming but...I just couldn't. So many times we had prayed for things to get better and they simply hadn't, sometimes things got much worse...I couldn't take that heartache again.

But then things started falling together...CPAP therapy worked...doing nothing new with meds worked and for the first time in two years I was seeing the real Superman returning....standing again... a little wobbly but standing...I was scared to take a deep breath...but ever so hopeful.

Superman was stable just three weeks...when we were asked to meet with the Stake Presidency.

I had told no one how I felt...that I was positive no one would ever see past his illness again, that he would never be able to serve again, that no one would ever give him a chance because, he's ill you know. No one knew how sad my heart was.

We were completely candid as we meet with the councilors in the stake presidency, Grant's struggles were something they were well aware of....

As the call was extended to serve on the high council, this thought came clearly to my mind....

"Robin you struggle to see over Grant's struggles, but your heavenly father does not, he sees Grant's heart and knows exactly what he and your family needs"

My heartache had been heard. I was floored. My Heavenly Father had heard my heartache even though I had never voiced it. That moment was a sacred one for me.

Stability has continued to take a stronger and stronger hold.

The miracles are in the small things. Grant wrestling with Dallyn, a big hug, offering a family prayer, attending a birthday party, a new calling  Most would never see those as miracles, but I don't miss the miracle. We are happy and grateful and blessed and know with certainty that we are watched over and loved.

Whales and Bunnies

It's a bird with a tail...a very bloated fish...

 it's actually a WHALE and proof that not every sewing project in my head, turns out as cute as I imagine. (not sure what to do with them now :) )

 

Now these turned out.... Simple bunnies out of felt. Took less than ten minutes each...

I made these with the extra kids I had on Monday, but theirs had faces. I love pinterest.

THOSE Parents :)

 

I am one of THOSE parents and proud of it! (okay hear me out on this one)

 

My girls play rugby. That fact always surprises me some, since their parents have no athletic ability....

Last week they lost to the Port Alberni Team but Maddie and Bailey each scored a try (goal, I'm guessing) and were the only ones to score, get trys on their teams. And you know what, their parents missed it. Grant got stuck in a meeting and we arrived for the last three minutes of the game. I know, awesome parents....

 

 

 

I am down to two kids in band. The middle whined her way out last year, so that leaves my favourite last two.... Last night they were both playing in bands of the round. A concert showcasing all the beginning bands in the district. They had to beg and I almost sent Holly to chaperon them, but Grant and went. Yay a good parent moment! Notice we only have a picture of Dallyn, I actually forgot to get one of Alex...Bad parent. Grant played on his phone the whole time and I turned into a music snob, snickering at the clarinet squawks and the kids who couldn't keep tempo no matter how loud the drum kit was. All while trying to ignore the fact that I could feel the lower half of my body because we were sitting on bleachers....

 

 

 

Yup, call me lazy, overwhelmed or laid pack, I am one of THOSE parents and I am actually happy about it.

 

Last week my sister posted something about trying to keep up with all the expectations of other parents. Holiday class treats, neighbour gifts and church treats....attending every function, performance and gathering. She has three preschoolers and is just beginning to navigate the perfect PTA psychosis world, heaven help her. I am so glad I am almost through it...

 She is an awesome mom, but has absolutely no desire to keep up or compete with  THAT parents that does everything...

 

 

I used to be THAT parent...

 

I sent in treats for every holiday.

I attended every assembly, sporting event and activity, no matter what it took to get there.

Checked in with teachers weekly.

Helped in the class room, chaperoned every field trip...

 

I would dress the kids in coordinating outfits for Church, parades and holidays...

Taught perfect lessons with handouts...

 

Then something changed. I hit my wall. And by hit, I mean smacked into it at highway speeds...

 

I remember it pretty well, the year my Mom died and Alex started kindergarten. I simply couldn't do it All anymore. I remember getting called in to talk to Alex's teacher...She chastised me for all the days Alex had missed, it wouldn't be tolerated next year and told me to be a more checked in parent. (ok I am sure now that she wasn't quite that blunt, but that's how I felt) Funny thing is that same kid was student of the year last year, her last year in elementary school.

 

I was spread thin and broken and tired, so I was forced to rethink this whole parenting thing...Sure I could have continued to be THAT parent and put on the front of THAT perfect parent...But I wasn't fooling anyone,especially me or my kids...

 

I missed things sometimes...

Didn't always send them with treats on their birthdays...

Sometimes cancelled Parent Teacher Conferences...

 

And you know what, my kids still loved me and thrived, even with out THAT parent.

 

It took a long time to let go of THAT parent and give up on the guilt that came with it...I stopped feeling guilty by the time Dallyn started grade one....Me and guilt are not good friends.

 

I am now one of THOSE parents and proud of it. My kids actually embrace it too. I am happy to be far from perfect.

 

Oh I can still be THAT parent, sometimes and I can still kick butt with a glue gun, but only if I want too. If it fills my bucket, then great. But if it overwhelms me or wears me out or drains my bucket then NO it's not happening.

 

There is nothing wrong with being THAT parent, if it works for you. THAT parent simply doesn't work for me.

 

Think what you want but we can all be awesome parents, regardless if you are a THOSE or a THAT kind of parent. Our kids will survive...I promise, if mine can survive than any can :)

 

I'm a Stake Conference Nerd

I think I am a bit of a Stake Conference nerd...I honestly love it an and don't care about the 5 hours of driving. Something I am sure my old YW leaders would think of as  a miracle, seeing how I never took Church seriously in the eighties (yes I am old). But some of the sweetest experiences I have had as an adult in the Church have been at Stake Conference. (shocking I know).

I'm blogging about this totally for my own benefit as I keep losing my notes and finding them (I even dug them out of the garbage after an over-obedient child cleaned off my desk....)

So before my notes vanish again here are Stake Conference highlights.....


A sister full of courage and beauty shared how we can always make the choice to turn back to our heavenly father and he will be their to help you.....

"Our choices show who we are more than our abilities do"
This was one of the best talks I have ever heard on the subject of choices.

******

A sister shared the sacrifices her father had made for not for her families freedom, but also a country's freedom. When asked why he had given so much, he said.....

"I did it for you kids"

I think of my Grandma Beena and Great Grandma Ash...I wonder if they ever thought about the foundation they were laying for their grandchildren and great-grandchildren. And if they could ever understand the faith, strength and hope we  would gain from reading and hearing their histories and testimonies. How many times I have thought "If Grandma Ash could walk across the plains...or if Grandma Beena can suffer unthinkable heartache and be cheerful and funny".... Then I can certainly keep going.So many times my grandmothers have been my strength.

********


This ensign article was refered to several times ....

The Enabling Power of the Atonement,

********

Our Stake President spoke on courage....

"What we can be, NOT what we have been."



"The strong carry on, their faith keeps them trying"



"Feeling good about ourselves is not about position, but DIRECTION


Something a Sister in Port, who has triumphed over tremendous hardships has always said...
"I have plenty of troubles but no complaints"
What a beautiful attitude to have.


"Keep your feet moving"

And tithing...
blessing come from obeying the sacred law of tithing...this was quoted....


"I didn't want anything my tithing funds may buy"

I couldn't help but think of how blessed our family has been by paying tithing. It is amazing and has nothing to do with math :)

I love stake conference and yes I am a total nerd.

Mourning With Those Who Mourn

We were honoured to attend a funeral this weekend, it was one we wouldn't have missed. Sister Ruttan was 91 and had had a profound impact on Grant and my life during our years in Port Alberni. She was an angel here who never really lost her wings in this mortality. Probably the most positive person I have ever met. She was kindness, love, charity, and acceptance personified. That legacy is now reflected beautifully in her family. Saying goodbye was a must.


******
"Mom, why do we have to go to funerals, they are just so sad?" one of my kids asked, as we were planning to attend Sister Ruttan's funeral, last week.

 I had forgotten it had been years since my kids had attended a funeral. For financial and logistic reason they did not attend either of my parents funerals. So Dallyn and Alex don't even remember attending a funeral when they were 5 and 6...

"We are encouraged to mourn with those who mourn," I say "and funerals are for those left behind more than the person who has passed away..."

"But Mom don't you find it hard, especially with Grandpa passing away, not that long ago?" "Sure I do but ...."

I realised in that moment that I have never told them why I personally make every effort to attend funerals....

{When my Mom passed away, my sister and I were 29 years old, maybe it was the nature of her illness but most people in her life had been pushed away years before. So when it came to planning a funeral Kelli and I were in most ways on our own...difficult, sad but our reality...

This reality was never more apparent, than as Kelli and I entered the chapel with our husbands at our side.. leading the procession into Mom's funeral... The chapel was empty...less than thirty were sitting in that chapel...no one had come... my grieving heart sank. The fact that the funeral was held in a large Stake Centre chapel made the sparse mourners even more obvious. I know that many factors lead to this. But it was horrible. At that moment I promised myself that I would never "miss" another funeral. At that moment I realized how important it is to mourn with those who mourn.}

It was a lesson I had forgotten to share with my children, until now.

******

Attending this funeral as a family was a beautiful opportunity not only to honour the Ruttan's but also to talk about and teach the importance of "mourning with those who mourn"

Beautiful things happen at funerals. I think it is because hearts a so tender and families are so close....

We heard the most beautiful arrangement of Amazing Grace on cello, played by Sister Ruttan's granddaughter. I have never heard the cello played more beautifully. A perfect tribute.

The following poem was also shared, one I had never heard before.....It explains our understand of death perfectly.

The Ship
By Bishop Brent
A ship sails and I stand watching till she fades on the horizon and someone at my side says She is gone.
Gone where? Gone from my sight, that is all. She is just as large now as when I last saw her. Her diminished size and total loss from my sight is in me, not in her.
And just at that moment, when someone at my side says she is gone, there are others who are watching her coming over their horizon and other voices take up a glad shout – There she comes!
That is what dying is. An horizon and just the limit of our sight.
Lift us up O Lord, that we may see further.

I am so grateful for all the ways Sister Ruttan has blessed my life and my understanding that death is simply a goodbye for now....

Hot Cocao Karma :)

This weekend involved a funeral in Port Alberni Saturday morning  and then Stake Conference in Nanaimo Saturday evening and Sunday morning. When we realised this also involved a time change and an 8:30 am interview Sunday morning, we made hotel reservations (smartest idea ever)....

So the hooligans (just Alex and Dallyn, H, B, M had work commitments)were actually up and ready Saturday morning with plenty of time to spare, looking sharp in their Sunday best, Dallyn in his brand new blue dress shirt and suit pants. So the Superman and I thought it was a great idea to stop at McDonald's for breakfast....

We have almost finished eating when Dallyn suddenly has his entire cup of hot chocolate down the front of him..."Its not my fault the cup split" Dallyn says trying not to cry in public. I give him the "oh. my. gosh. you are thirteen. how did you manage that." look...and the tears flow instantly (I know bad mom) As Grant ushers him out to the van I clean up the mess and join them.

We run to Wal-Mart for a brand new shirt(this time green) and pants and quickly run home so Dallyn can clean up while I iron the second new shirt of the morning...still rather annoyed and not hiding it from my son. Dallyn apologizing the whole time. (again bad Mom) In all actuality the delay only cost us 15 minutes and by the time we hit the Port Alberni junction was nearly forgotten about, at least by me :)....

Well the hotel in Nanaimo has a continental breakfast. Sunday morning we were up at 7am (really 6) got ready and about 8 am headed down for breakfast, all in our Sunday best....The hotel had one of these...

 

Waffle batter dispenser and maker....We became well acquainted with these during our trip to California in October.

 

Well superman went first and as his waffle was ready to beep, I walked up to the batter dispenser to fill my cup. I pull to release the batter and nothing happens, I try again with a little more might this time and just as Grant says I think you are supposed to push? There is a loud pop and the black spout flies off and under the hot waffle maker, waffle batter spuing uncontrollably out of the machine....

 

Robin?!?

It won't stop!

 

Get a bowl. Paper towel. Anything!

 

Grant is laughing so hard, he is little help to me, ...

 

Batter is now all over me, my hands, the entire counter and dripping all over the floor, and it just won't stop draining out of the machine..

 

...picture the I Love Lucy chocolate factory scene....

 

Grant retrieves the spout but his attempts to reattach it are little help to the spewing batter...

 

I  finally run to the front desk for help.

 

The person behind the desk quickly comes to our rescue, apologizing profusely and I am too ashamed to admit it was probably entirely my fault (I pulled and I was supposed to push, Grant said later "You think after 5 babies you would know the difference between pull and push")

 

We are trying to lend a hand to the waffle batter mayhem, when I turn around just as our Vancouver Canada Mission president walks in for breakfast...just my luck, apparently his family was staying at the same hotel..."Hope you didn't want waffles this morning?!" I say trying to hide my embarrassment. He also offers to help clean up...

 

President T then comes over and asks Dallyn to give him a word to use in his talk that morning. When Dallyn couldn't think of any. He then asked for his name and promised to use his name in his talk (which he did, a cool moment for D).

 

We were all cleaned up just in time to head over to the Stake Centre. "I guess you can't really be mad at me any more for the hot chocolate mess, eh Mom?" Dallyn says with glee as we climb into the van. Nope I guess not. "Your mess was definitely worse than mine, Mom" "Yes Dallyn" Grant starts laughing hysterically all over again.

{hot cocoa karma}

 

As we walk into the stake centre Grant looks down at his shoes and pant legs. Both are covered in batter. He cleans up as best we could...but wastes no time throwing me under the bus when we had our interview....I sure do love him.

 

After conference we are leaving the stake offices when we run into President T and his family again...

"I didn't realize what a special day this was for your family," he says shaking Dallyn's hand..... "Give me another word you want me to use in my next talk he says," looking Dallyn straight in the eye...

 

"WAFFLES!" Dallyn exclaims with a look of satisfaction on his face.

 

"Waffles is a great word." President T says.

 

Oh how I love waffles..... and my family!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Called.

Thursday evening the Stake President sent a message  asking if they could visit with us (Superman and me) before stake conference Sunday morning (we didn't see the message until Friday morning)....Grant sent an email responding  in the affirmative and quickly headed out the door to work....

About and hour later superman sends me a text....

"So what do you think they want???"

I don't know...maybe advice on which tie to wear?  :)

Seriously Robin?!?


I don't know, honey it really could be anything ....I guess we will just have to wait and see :)


Then every three minutes or so I sent him a possible (completely bogus) calling. It's totally his fault, he asked.....

stake conference traffic control coordinator

stake library inspector

stake hymn book rotater

stake transportation coordinator

ROBIN STOP!!!
(but its me...and I couldn't)....

stake conference greeter

stake amen amen amen guy

stake handbook alphabetizer

stake testimony patrol

stake tie inspector

Very funny. But seriously STOP!!!

stake snow shoveller :)...okay. I. will. stop. :)
I love you! :)

We had much to do to get ready for this incredibly busy weekend. A funeral, stake conference, a birthday...so we didn't have much time to discuss the possibilities after those text messages of Friday morning...but it was never too far from our minds...

This morning after meeting with members of the Stake Presidency, Grant was called to serve on the Stake High Council

Surprised, humbled and honoured.

It is with considerable faith Grant accepted this calling. His improved health is only very recent, but after considerable council with the members of the Stake Presidency who are fully aware of our circumstances we felt loved, supported and understood and confident this is a wonderful opportunity for Grant to serve.

This was a wonderful weekend.

Crazy=Sewing :)

So the debate is still out on whether or not I'm certifiable...(no this not a request to vote)

Life is good right now, but the last few days I have struggled to not be grouchy, annoyed and oversensitive...

So when I feel the CRAZY coming on I either write or sew, this week sewing's my Prozac :)

 

I started with some stuff for our friend still recovering from a brain injury. He is doing amazingly well and we are oh so proud of him and his family....

 

 

A reversible smock (old t-shirt with flannel back) and chin clothes (terry cloth and flannel)

 

I was still feeling pretty CRA-CRA so I made a big I-SPY rag quilt out of all the different flannel I have collected lately (thrift stores)...It turned out much bigger than I planned but I love it and I am actually keeping this one, the kids can't even have it :)

 

The crazy seems to have passed now...so I guess I should do some laundry :)

Take A Number!?!

The superman had yesterday off and we knew we were headed to Port Alberni in the afternoon to deal with taxes and visit with friends. So we had a morning to waste...Breakie, haircut, wash the van...and to pay Grant's speeding ticket from last week (bad superman)...

To pay a ticket here you have to go to the Service BC Centre...BC's equivalent of the DMV. When we walked in the thirty or more chairs, in the waiting room (corner) were full and I give my superhero that nice we're going to be here forever look.

So we take a number, find the last two empty chairs, and watch the big black digital sign with big red numbers, there are 37 people in front of us.


So there are signs everywhere instructing people what to do...

1. Take a number (big red circular thing, dispensing singular paper tickets, they've been around forever)

2. Find a seat, back chairs in the corner

3.WATCH for your number, the sign beeps LOUDLY each time a new number comes up.

Three steps, how hard can it be? if you make it to the black chairs you have ONE job.

My annoyance at having to wait forever soon turned into absolute amusement and delight.

People, oh people, oh how I love to watch people....

A lady walked in and exclaimed "Oh wonderful, no line!" and proceeded to stand a foot from the ticket holder and signs for at least 5 minutes until someone pointed out that those 40 plus people in the chairs in the corner were actually in front of her."Really?!?"

There were at least 5 more people that did the exact same thing in the following 20 minutes...like us people in chairs had decided to have a some R&R, who knew the service centre was the new Starbucks...

Then there were the people that couldn't quiet manage the ticket dispenser thing...pull down for ONE ticket(says the sign). Time after time people would pull up or out and get a 8 or 9 tickets, in a ribbon, thus defeating the purpose of the ticket system all together...And causing the workers to come out behind there shield to call...Do we have 83...84...85, finally 88 stands up. There was even one guy who said so "which numbers mine" staring at his 10 or more ticket ribbon...I guess the numerical system is a stretch for some people :)

So it was a miracle some people even made it to the black chairs...If you make it to the chairs you have ONE job left. Watch. The. Sign. Easy right? NOPE!

So the sign beeps loudly...93...94..95...the lady even comes out again to check numbers...93, 94, 95, 96? Bingo 96 proceeds to her indicated kiosk. Three minutes later, the guys sitting across from us looks up at the sign. "what happened to 93?" They called it twice ....Then a few minutes after that, a young kid in the corner sporting a tie-dye t-shirt says "Hey dude!?! (I heart Vancouver Island) where's 95 go"

Seriously?!? the red numbers the size of your smart car and the beeping that could wake a sleeping dinosaur. Threw you off??? Yup!

Oh people...its Darwin's theory in action at the service BC centre...

I was actually disappointed when Superman's number was called...it was just getting good and then we had to leave...Dang it. When ever my teenager make me feel like I'm dumber than a rock, I'm just going to the service centre and hang out in those black chairs for a while! :)

Pants Please!

***WARNING***

***I have been a mother bear this week...this post is as diplomatic as I can muster...stop reading now if you are easily offended or think yoga pants solve everything :)***


I have a daughter who hates shopping, clothes shopping... I can't blame her, finding clothing that is age appropriate, modest and that fits can be difficult and disappointing and near impossible straight off the rack...

My daughter is beautiful, strong, hilarious, out going, and acts like she is invincible, the life of the party. But underneath that is a tender hearted girl who has dealt with  not quite fitting in a body obsessed world since grade school. Bullied, teased, she has always dealt with it with humour and she is dang funny...So most don't have a clue how deeply and often hurt my daughter has been.

Then came the dilemma of the pants....

I was unaware of the pants dilemma until my daughter had already tried several ways of solving it herself...Pants or jeans were a requirement for this weekends activity.

My daughter doesn't wear or own pants or jeans. To her they are the equivalent of a torture chamber As her body shape makes fit, especially length near impossible. She wears long board shorts or capris and is always clean and modest. For us it's a non issue.

Her asking for an exception was not out of defiance or rebellion or disobedience, but simply a desire to be comfortable in front of her peers and in her own skin.

Just go to the thrift shop... Buy a pair of yoga pants, they fit everyone....

I have said all week just go in what you are comfortable in, but my Daughter didn't want to upset anyone or to be awkward or draw even more attention to herself. I couldn't blame her really.

Tonight we spent two hours in value village....searching and searching...she tired on more than a dozen pairs...all too small. My heart ached. Each time something doesn't work it only adds to her awkwardness. I just wish others, could understand how hard this is for my beautiful daughter...should jeans really matter that much.

Wear what ever you are comfortable in...but I don't want to stick out either....

Desperate for success, we try one last store....A pair of jeans that fits beautifully....the $90 price tag was pennies for a girl that needs to FIT in.

Oh how I admire my daughter. Willing to try, even when it wasn't easy to do what was asked of her. She is simply an amazing girl. But to me modesty is enough when it comes to clothing.