Fake Santa

On the way home from our ward Christmas party the following conversation was had
James "that Santa was a fake!"
Mom "maybe, but Santa has lots of helpers. "
James "yeah, like elves, but that Santa was a fake."
Mom: "How do you know?"
J: "because that Santa had a white beard, the real Santa has a grey beard."
M: "I thought Santa had a white beard."
J: "oh, well, the real Santa was at the place where we get our teeth cleaned." (The dentist office is located in the town hall building, where the town Christmas party is held)
M: "How do you know he was the real Santa?"
J: "because he had a curly beard. This Santa just had a wavy beard."

So there you have it.  The Santa expert has spoken. Santa has a curly grey beard, and visits the kids at the Milk River town hall.

Made my day

While in Lethbridge today, I stopped in for a visit with my Grandma Paxman. Even though the visit was short and she really doesn't know who I am, I couldn't help but leave with a smile. There are somethings that are still very much grandma, somethings that dementia has not yet stolen. Like her absolute love of red hair. EVERYTIME James is with me for a visit she comments on how lovely his hair is, and it is a recurring theme for the visit. The other thing that is still very much grandma, is her positive attitude about everything. Dementia has yet to take her smile and sweet spirit. Oh how I love this women, and I miss the parts of her that have been taken from us. But I rejoice in all that is still grandma. How could I not leave with a smile on my face? Our ten minute visit totally made my day.

There Shall Not Be Room Enough

This has been a dry year, and I know many have suffered because of it. But here at the Courthouse, we have been blessed with bounty.

We picked our first cucumbers on June 30 and we just ate our last one a couple of days ago. That's three months without having to buy cucumbers.

I've been eating green beans for supper for weeks on end and I froze some for the winter AND I gave buckets full away to friends.

 And then there are our tomatoes, they just go on and on. I have already made all of the salsa that I need for the year, and I've hardly made a dent in our tomatoes. I've also made green tomato raspberry jam and spicy tomato jam, both of which I plan on making more of, and the rest will be made into tomato sauce and canned tomatoes...here's hoping I have enough jars.

As I picked the rest of our tomatoes today and they just kept coming, and coming and coming(as seen above) I was overwhelmed with gratitude and the scripture from Malachi kept running through my head "Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, that there may be meat in mine house, and prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it." Malachi 3:10

All that is left are the carrots, and those will likely be dug next weekend. As I looked over my harvested garden I was filled with joy. This sight, the sight of my garden freshly harvested, brings me as much joy as the creating of it and the beauty of it in all it's summer glory. 

A lesson in Gratitude

A friend of mine asked me if I would be able to take a meal over to a young mom in our community who had just had surgery. I said of course I would. So this afternoon I made up a delicious dish that I had made earlier in the week(you can find the recipe here) and took it to her, along with a copy of the recipe, as I was headed out of town. She was so very thankful, she couldn't say thank you enough times. I was so glad to have been able to help her out and headed on my way, not to think much of it again. Later in the evening, after the supper hour, I received a text from this mom, expressing her gratitude for both the meal and the recipe because it was just that good. She expressed how she has never had anything like this happen before and how she hoped to be able to return the favour sometime. Her gratitude was so honest and so sincere. I have had many opportunities to take meals to people in our church for various reasons, but I don't ever recall gratitude being expressed in this same way before.
 I have never felt it so deeply from anyone and that got me thinking. In the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, serving others in common place. We are taught by the book of Mormon Prophet and ruler, King Benjamin that "when ye are in the service of your fellow beings, ye are only in the service of your god."(Mosiah 2:17) 
Because this is much of who we are, especially in the Relief Society organization of the church, this kind of service is common place. And I wonder if, because it is so common place, if maybe we just get used to it, and maybe even expect it, and so maybe we forget to show our gratitude as we should, as this young mom showed towards me.
And that got me thinking some more, it make me look inward. It made me reflect on times that such service was offered to me. How did I show my gratitude toward those who were serving me? Was it just a casual "thank you" or did I try to really express how much it was appreciated? I am certain there have been plenty of time that my gratitude has not been as sincere as it should have been, but I also can think of a couple of times where I hope that what I tried to express, matched how I was feeling towards those who had offered their hands in service to me.
In the end, I have determined to be much more honest and sincere in my gratitude, both towards men and towards God.

The Miracle of the Marker

This year was the first year that I have had the opportunity to attend Young Women's camp since I was a teenager in the Young Women's program. It was a hoot. On Friday morning our ward was responsible for doing a morning devotional, it was to be on Testimonies, but the morning got busy and the devotional overlooked and we were off and running before we remembered. But all was good. The plan for the day was to hike to Forum Lake. We decided we would do a shortened version of the devotional once we reached the lake and we had already planned to do a little activity there to tie into the mornings devotional. The activity was to make "I believe" rocks, an idea that was sparked from rocks that our family has found in the Lake at Waterton with positive messages written on the and also from this blog post I came across. We had one young women that was unable to go on the hike because she had had back surgery earlier in the year, so  one of the other leaders stayed with her in the town site while the rest of us headed up the mountain. Before we split up I reached into my ziploc bag that contained about eight permanent markers and handed the leader one. I told her what our plan was once we reached the lake and asked her if she would do the same kind of thing with the young woman that couldn't go with us.

The hike was a good one, but these 12 and 13 year old girls did amazing. I thought I was going to have to coax some of them up the mountain, but they never once complained and they all just kept going. When we reached the lake they were in complete awe and everyone of them said that they were so glad that we had done this hike.

We sat them down on the shore and shared with them our shortened devotional about testimonies. Then I pulled out my bag of markers and told them that I wanted them to find a rock and write their own "I believe" statement on it and toss it into the lake, and then here, part of their testimony will always be. I passed out the markers, and one by one the girls handed them back telling me that they didn't work. I was stunned, I hadn't even thought about testing them, they were just markers that I had at home and were frequently used, so I had just assumed that they would work. But not one of them did. Here enters my 12 year old daughter to save the day. She had stashed in her back pack on black permanent marker because she had wanted to write messages on rocks and throw them into the lake, like the ones we had found earlier in the summer. She said it was just a last minute thing that she had thought to grab the marker when packing her gear, but by so doing, we were still able to accomplish our planned activity. But then my thoughts turned to the two we had left behind and how I had built them up for this great faith building experience, and then given them a dud of a marker and they wouldn't be able to do it.
When we met back up in the town site, the first thing I asked was if the marker I had given them worked, they looked at me surprised and answered that it had and that they had had a wonderful experience. I was dumbfounded. What are the chances that of all the markers in that bag, the one that I pulled out, was the only one that worked? They aren't that great.
But here's the thing that I shared with the girls later that night at our fireside testimony meeting. Heavenly Father knows each one of us personally. He knows what we need. He knows what we want. He knows what is important to us. And not only does He know, but He cares, and He cares deeply. He cared about our little activity at the lake, and so He prepared a way for us to be able to accomplish that activity by prompting my daughter to pack a maker her back pack. He also guided my thoughts as I looked into that bag and saw that dark green marker and thought "green will be a good colour to write on rocks with" and so I pulled out the green marker, not the blue one or the red one or even the black one. The green one, the only marker in the bag that still worked and that was the one that I had left behind. I told those girls, that Heavenly Father loves them each individually and He cares about they things they care about, the big things and the little things. In the great grand scheme of things, whether or not we made "I believe" rocks and tossed them into that mountain lake really didn't matter. But at that moment it mattered to us, and so it mattered to our Heavenly Father.
I encouraged them to always remember that Heavenly Father loves them and never to forget the Miracle of the Marker.

Lessons from Trek

This past weekend Daniel and I had the pleasure of being Ma and Pa at our Stakes pioneer trek. We were assigned 11 kids(5 girls, 6 boys) ranging in age from 13-17. I can confidently say that we were assigned 11 of the best youth in our stake...although I have heard most of the other Ma's and Pa's say the same thing...that must mean that our stake is full of exceptional youth.

Trek is a wonderful opportunity to learn more about the handcart pioneers as well as about yourself. Trek is designed to encourage spiritual growth and to be physically challenging. Trek is not easy, and if by the end of it you haven't learned anything or felt growth in yourself, you have missed out on an incredible opportunity.

So here are 5 lessons I learned(or had reconfirmed)

1. I'm loosing my mind. Just before we arrived at the trek sight on Friday morning I started wondering where I had packed our flashlights. But for the life of me I could not remember what I had done with them the night before. The last thing I could remember was holding them in my hand after putting fresh batteries in them. After that it was a complete blank. That might have something to do with packing the last of our stuff at 3am. When we got there I looked through all of our stuff and couldn't find the flashlights, so I grabbed the little emergency one I have in the van and stashed it in our stuff with the hope that when we arrived at camp I would find the others. That never happened, I thought I must have left them at home on my dresser or something. But when we got back home they were nowhere to be found. As I was unpacking our bags, I found both of them tucked safely away in the front pocket of our duffel bag.

2. I am not a young adult anymore. My mind thinks that I am not all that much older than I was when we first got married. I certainly don't feel any older than I did then...but time has obviously gone by seeing how I have 5 kids and all. All I can say is that it was a really good thing that I had been training to run a 5K the months prior to going on trek, because even with that, it was tricky keeping up with these young kids at times. Their fast pace pulling/pushing the handcart was often a faster pace than my fast walking pace...and I wasn't pulling/pushing the handcart.

3. I didn't know I could be so fiercely proud of kids that aren't even my own. We had been trekking a long time. It was around 8pm and we hadn't done the women's pull yet, and everyone knows about the women's pull. The kids had been talking about it off and on through the whole trek speculating when it would be. But as time went on and in the distance loomed a hill our young men told the girls to back off, because they were going to need their strength for the women's pull that was likely to take them up that hill in the distance. And so our boys took over and pushed and pulled that handcart, and our girls refused to be told what to do and tried to push along. They were true gentlemen(a trait they get from their Pa), even if the girls were a bit stubborn(they may get that from their Ma). At the base of that hill, we stopped and sat in families so we could share the story of Jens and Elsie Nielson to help set the tone for the women's pull.

"October 23 was a day of heartbreak for Jens and Elsie. A blizzard and the long trek over Rocky Ridge challenged them every step of the way. Tragically, both young Niels Nielson and Bodil Mortensen died that day. Jens wrote of the excruciating circumstances at their camp in Rock Creek Hollow, where Niels and Bodil were buried: “We had to dig a hole and bury [13] bodies of our number, and my only son was among them, and a girl who I had along for Brother Mortensen.
                        I told you there were five men to the tent, but now the four were dead and I was the only man left, so I had to ask some of the largest and strongest women to help me to raise the tent, and it looked like we should all die”

Jens was also becoming weaker, and it seems that he was prepared to die. Elsie was reportedly less than five feet tall, but she had a spiritual stature and courage that matched Jens’s frame of over six feet. One of their descendants, Jay P. Nielson, told of Elsie’s courageous strength when Jens could no longer walk: “The end appeared to be near and certain for Jens. His feet became so frozen he could not walk another step, which caused his right foot to be at right angles the rest of his life. At this point Jens said to Elsie, “Leave me by the trail in the snow to die, and you go ahead and try to keep up with the company and save your life.” If you believe men have a monopoly on strength and courage, then pay heed to Elsie’s immortal words when she said, “Ride. I can’t leave you. I can pull the cart.”

It is not known how long Elsie pulled Jens in the handcart. One family history suggests that it was at least a day. Jens did not record the incident in his history. Instead, he recalled a covenant he made with God at that time. It was a covenant that Jens and Elsie were united in keeping for the rest of their lives:  “I remember my prayers as distinctly today as I did then. If [the Lord] would let me live to come to Salt Lake City, ... all my days should be spent in usefulness under the direction of his Holy Priesthood. How far I have come short of this promise I do not know, but I have been called to make six new homes, and as far as this goes, I have fulfilled my promise.  Speaking of the hardships of the handcart company—no person can describe [it], nor could it be comprehended nor understood by any human living in this life, but only [by] those who were called to pass through it."

We then were put on silence, not a word was to be spoken for any reason and then we began to trek again. Slowly one by one the boys were pulled back and our 5 girls were left to pull and push the cart up the rutted trail littered with roots and rocks.

Look at the determination on there faces. As I walk alongside these girls my heart swelled with pride as I watched them putting everything they had into it. The hill was long and the ascent was gradual, and it was anything but easy. But they rocked it. We had some seriously tough girls. They never squealed or complained. Not even when it was time to kill, pluck and prepare the turkey. They just got right in there and got the job done.

4. God knows his children and their needs individually. A couple of times along the trail we would stop and share a handcart pioneer story with our families. A favourtie of mine and one that demonstrates how personally Heavenly Father knows the needs of his children is a story from the Willie handcart company. They were faced with trial early on in their trek.

"We started out in great spirits, grateful at last that we were on the last lap of our journey. When we started our weather was intensely hot and our feet were badly blistered. The stock had to be herded at night and this was a laborious task for men who had drawn carts all day.When we were well out into the wilderness, we noticed a storm approaching from the southwest. The terrifying thing was not the storm, but a large herd of buffalo stampeding right past our camp. Afterward, I thanked the Lord, that our lives had been spared, for we all could have been killed. As it was, we lost 30 head of our best oxen. They were swept away by the buffalo. The men hunted for them but had to give it up.This was the beginning of our great hardships and probably was the cause of most of them, for we had spent valuable time looking for the oxen. This loss in turn, reduced our meat supply and because there wasn't enough cattle to pull the supply wagons, a hundred pounds of flour was placed in each handcart."

"October 12, Captain Willie again cut the rations to 10 oz flour for men, 9 oz to women and 6 oz to children and 3 oz to infants. On the 14th another reduction was made and on the 19th, the last ounce of flour was given to the starving saints. The same evening the first snow came and by morning it was 18 inches deep on the level. They were at the three crossings of the Sweetwater. The Company was already eating boiled rawhide and wild berries gathered from the bushes.It was on this day that my Grandmother went out to gather buffalo chips to make a fire, and a man appeared to her and said that he had heard that her company had been put on rations, and were short of food. She told him they were very short of food, and he told her to come with him, and they went a short distance to what seemed to be a cave. In this cave there was plenty of dried meat; he filled her apron with the meat and she was so happy to get it, she turned to go. And then, remembering she had not thanked him, she turned and he had disappeared, and the cave had also disappeared. She took her meat back to her Company, and the leaders told her the man must have been one of the Nephites."

Not only were they blessed with food when they were in such desperate ways, but it was in the form of protein, something that they had been with out for such a long time.

This past weekend, stakes all around our region were fasting for rain....basically we as a trek group got out prayed. We were praying to not have rain until we were done trek while everyone else was praying and fasting for rain. It is interesting to me that about the time that the fast was to begin Saturday night, the rain began to fall, all across the region, everybody's story sounds the same no matter where they were, from Beazer, to Lethbridge and right down to Milk River. Suddenly around 7:30pm there was a large black storm front that moved in quickly bringing with it rain, and lots of it. And although our prayer was not answered to hold back the rain, it was answered in a different way. The forecast warned of possible micro bursts, strong winds and hail. Now imagine 160 youth and their leaders with only tarps strung up in trees for shelter. That forecast sounds terrifying. But we saw none of that. Rain, that we saw and lots of it, ALL. NIGHT. LONG. We were told that we had recieved 2 inches of rain that night, but the strong winds never came. Most families stayed relatively dry through out the night. I am sure that many Ma's, just like me, when they were awakened in the middle of the night by a flash of lightning and the rolling thunder, said a quick prayer that their families would be kept safe and dry. Safe we were, and dry we were mostly. Our prayers may not have been answered the way we wanted them to be, but they were answered in the way that Heavenly Father knew they needed to be.

huddling close so as to be able to hear each other over the deafening rain

 5) God hears and answers prayers in his own time and in his own way, and sometimes his time is the same as our time and his ways are ours ways. Sunday morning all Ma's and Pa's were gathered together at 7am. As we stood huddled out of the rain under two large pine trees we were given instruction that we were going to be packing up and heading out. It was decided that we would be ready to trek at 10am. Breakfast was simplified to cheese buns, oranges and hot chocolate. We headed back to our family to give them the news. We asked them to pack up their gear but to leave it in the shelter until after we had eaten breakfast. As we gathered for breakfast, one of our youngest boys was asked to offer up our family prayer. It was short, and humble, as he asked that we have good weather for our trek out. I am certain that similar prayers were offered up in every other family. As we huddled together in our rain poncho(or garbage bags) to eat our breakfast, the rain began to subside. By the time we were done eating it wasn't raining any longer and Pa told the kids to pack up the wagon while it wasn't raining. It never rained again.

As we gathered as Ma's and Pa's one last time before heading out, we were told that all two wheel vehicles that were parked at the fence line would not be able to get out as the roads were in such rough shape and it would likely be about a week before they could be retrieved. I looked at Daniel and said "what are we going to do? How do we get home? We already sent word to Bishop to not come get his son because we would bring him home, and now they are telling us our van isn't getting out." But as we lined up the carts to start heading out word came that we would trek as far as the fence line, and then the two wheel vehicles would head out first, then the four wheel ones and then the carts would head out. Daniel went up ahead and I trekked with our kids. When we reached the fence line, I watch the vehicles drive out, but didn't ever see our van, so I inquired and was told that he had already left, but had gotten stuck. I went back and told the kids that if we were delayed it was Pa's fault because he had gotten stuck. As we began trekking again, our older boys commented that it was no wonder Pa had gotten stuck as the ruts were so deep and sloppy. Pa later told us, that there was no way he should have made it out with the low clearance of the van, but that at times he felt as though he was driving on a cloud, and there is only one way that that van made it out of there and that is no less than a miracle.


My prayer is that each of our kids, and in fact, each and every one of the youth who attended trek can look back at their experience and see how the hand of the Lord was revealed to them. I know that He was there each and every step of the way. I saw it. I felt it. I experienced it first hand. I hope that our "kids" know just how much we care for each and every one of them. I really wish we would have had those last few days to continue to get to know each other. I hope that as time goes by they'll still think we are cool enough to call Ma and Pa. I hope we don't loose touch.
I'd do each and every bit of it again if ever given the chance.

Grandpa Paxman

I just found this poem on my pillow. My oldest daughter wrote it for her English class. It is so beautiful, it took my breath away and brought tears to my eyes.

It reads

Grandpa Paxman

Mom tells me the stories he told,
From when she was young and when he was old.
She remembers his soft thick grey hair,
And his voice, calm with care.
She remembers his rough dirty helping hands,
His stories were like the ones of other lands,
She remembers not an angry or mad expression on his face,
He never ever got on her case.
Those stories she tells me,
Give me an image of him for me to see.

Remember me

When I was in high school I was a nobody. And I was happy with that.  I didn't play sports. I wasn't involved with school council. I wasn't a loser and I wasn't  popular, but I had friends that could have been included in either category. I doubt there is anyone from high school that would ever say "I wonder what ever happened to Mandy Forsyth?" And you know what. ..it doesn't even bother me.  I am completely content with that.  I have no regrets with how I played out my high school years.

However, this past month or so has been rough. I've attended two funerals and a memorial, and it's got me thinking. When I check out of this life at 77, or 82 or 94 years old, how will I be remembered? I am no longer satisfied with being a nobody. That was fine and dandy for High School, but that no longer appeals to me. I want to have left a mark on this world. So what is it that I want people to say of me after I have passed from this life to the next?

So here's what I've been thinking(in no particular order...except the first one I want to be first said of me)

1. I want to be known as a woman of faith. I want there to be no doubt that I held dear my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. That my faith in Him was my guiding force in all that I said and did. That I knew that I was a daughter of God and that my Savior lived, died and rose again so that I could return to live with him again through my faith in His name.
2. I want to be known as a woman who loved and loved deeply. Not just my own family, but all those that I held dear to my heart. I don't ever want any of them to ever wonder how much I truly loved them and how much they meant to me.
3. I want to be known as a woman who never spoke an unkind word about anyone. A woman who could always find the good in people and focus on that good.
4. I want to be know as a woman who made friends and lots of them, simply because I was pleasant to be around and could be trusted.
5. I want to be remembered for having the coolest house on the block. A place where my children's friends wanted to be. A place where parents knew their kids were safe and having a good time.
6. I want to be known as a woman who treasured the simple things in life and valued time spent with family and friends.
7. I want to be known as a mom who would do anything for her children and as a wife who respected and honoured her husband. 
8. I want to be known as a woman who valued community and was involved in trying to make her community the best it could be.

As I have thought through this list, I have come to the realization that I have some work to do. And I have noticed these past few weeks that my goals and attitudes have changed a bit as I have reflected on these points. I hope that by writing these down they will become more ingrained in my brain and continue to be a guiding light in the way that I conduct myself. 

If you happen to notice me acting contrary to these points, feel free to kick me in the butt and get me going on the right path again :)

What do you want said of you?

Let's do this thang

All 4 of Ella's bottles are currently MIA...that alone is scary, I hate finding a bottle that has been missing for a while with sour milk in it. GROSS! So I am taking this opportunity to end the bottle obsession. It isn't going to be easy. It's already been a rough morning. I don't anticipate it getting better today. But I'm just going for it. The kids will be off of school for the next week so I will have them around to help me distract her. Nights might be hard, but again because kids aren't in school, either Kathryn will be recruited to help out or I'll send her downstairs to sleep with the other kids. The hope is that she will get desperate enough to drink her milk from a sippy cup...hopefully sooner rather than later. And I finally found a sippy cup that she will drink milk from...a little bit, she hasn't yet finished off an entire sippy cup of milk yet, but she will occasionally drink her milk from it. I see this as a good sign. So wish me luck....I think we are going to need it.

Good advice, it's not all bad.

Have you ever had one of those days where you feel like you have really failed as a mom?  Yeah,  me too.  Today my cousin posted about such a day on Facebook and in the comments my aunt posted this little tidbit of advice. 

" Now tell us all something you did right too. Please!? Good for you being able to admit a blowout, now can you also admit the opposite? That helps keep us sane - just knowing if we did something, anything at all worth while. And if you can't think of what it is, think of what all these loving family and friends might say it was - we all know you did many good and right things too."

This struck me right in the heart.  These were words that I needed to heart too. And I need them posted in my house. ..everywhere, to remind me that even on the crappiest days, I've done at least one thing right. It is so easy to focus on the negative, on our failures and forget to acknowledge all the things we have done that were good and kind and uplifting. 

So I'm posting this here so I can always find it and hopefully don't forget it.  And I Plan to make an effort to also post something that I have done right in the same post that I write about things I have done wrong. ..balance is key.

For the Love of Milk

Mom's of toddlers, past and present, I need your help. My almost two year old loves her milk, so much so that that seems to be all she wants. When she asks for a bottle, I try to offer her something else first. Sometimes she accepts it, but most often she says no and insists on having a bottle. I can't even get her to eat at meal time most of the time. And then out of nowhere she will eat two or three helpings and I will think "Great, she likes this stuff" and then a day or two later I will feed her some left overs and she will refuse to eat it. I've come to the conclusion that she isn't a picky eater. When she does eat, she will eat just about anything. The problem is that she just doesn't eat most of the time. I know she must not be suffering much because the kid is solid. But lately she has been waking up once or twice in the middle of the night asking for a bottle. We had got out of that habit a year ago. But she just will not go back to sleep until she has had at least half a bottle of milk....I'm talking weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth. I know she's got to be hungry because she didn't eat anything through out the day but milk. Has anybody else had a kid like this? What did you do? Any great food and snack ideas that your toddler loved?

sincerely,
One Tired Momma

Out of Our League and Victory Without Winning.

My daughter plays on the school's Tier 2 basketball team. The team consists of 7 players, 6 of them are in grade six, Kathryn is the only Grade 7 on the team. They struggle, they are new and inexperienced, and little, both in size and numbers. Most teams they play have double the numbers and more experienced grade 7 and 8 players. They haven't won a game yet...never even came close. But they keep at it and for the most part with a good attitude.

This weekend they played in a tournament in Raymond. The other teams participating in the tournament were Stirling and Gilbert Paterson. We knew we were playing teams that were way out of our league. The first game was against Stirling. The final score was something like 57-6. Our girls were exhausted after a lot of running down the court after the other team. Not much game play was really going on. Our girls were really struggling to get their passes through, most of the opposing players were quite a bit taller and could easily snag almost every over head pass. Rebounds were next to impossible. It was a rough game.

The second game was a few hours later against Gilbert Paterson. Once again the faced a team that was bigger, in numbers and size. This team was a pretty skilled team, and at first it started out like any other with our girls running down the court after the other team and no real play happening. But then something changed. The Paterson coach started make his girls work their plays. Even when they easily beat our girls down the court and could have put up an easy basket, they would stop in their tracks, pass the ball back out to the top of the key and set up their play. It even looked as though they may have been told to make a certain number of passes before they took a shot. But it gave our girls a chance to actually play the game. To try and defend against the plays the opposing team was setting up. Our girls were still struggling to get their passes through. I don't know a whole lot about basketball, but one thing I do know is that a bounce pass is more likely to make it to it's intended target than on over the head lob...especially when the opposing team is significantly taller. Late in the game when we did manage to put in a basket, the entire gym erupted with cheers. The boys running the score clock had been cheering for our girls the entire time. With every shot put up there were "OH"'s at the near misses. The final score was something like 47-2. But it really could have easily been double that. I really appreciated what the Paterson coach had done there. And wished that I would have had a chance to tell him so, but didn't see him after the kids came out of the dressing room.

Even with the change in the way the game was played, our girls left feeling completely defeated. Kathryn was in tears on the way home, she was exhausted and sore and discouraged. I asked her about the bounce passes and why they weren't doing that, explained about how I knew that a bounce pass was better than an over the head lob and encouraged her to try to use it more in the game the next day...A game that I was afraid was going to be the worst one yet. But I was wrong.

We were scheduled to play Raymond. A good nights sleep seemed to do the girls good. They were cheerful and ready to play. The first quarter was the same as every other game they have ever played. But then, once again, it changed and Raymond started to play the same sort of game that Paterson had played the night before and our girls were clearly all using the bounce pass instead of the over the head lob, and guess what? Their passes started making it to their intended target. I wondered if all the parents had given their girls a talking to the night before about the advantages of the bounce pass. In the second half the game changed again. I noticed Raymond relax just a little bit under our own net and not fight for rebounds quiet as hard. And our girls started putting baskets up...and making them...after a couple of rebounds. You should have seen our girls faces. They were over the moon. And ever so slowly our score started to creep up. And with every basket the crowd cheered. The boys at the score table cheered. The opposing players sitting on the bench cheered. The Raymond parents cheered. We cheered. It was awesome. With less than 3 minutes left in the game we were at 16, and I said to Tansley, "wouldn't it be great if they could make it to 20, but I don't think they can do it in 2 minutes". The final score, 44-24. It honestly brought me to tears. Then the girls came out of the change room looking like they had just won the tournament. Kathryn told me that the Raymond team had crashed their change room and they all had a little celebration.

Hey Comets! You guys rock! Thank you for giving our little Novas a little taste of victory! That is honestly how they felt. Kathryn said to me as she drank from her Powerade that had been awarded to her as player of the game "This is the taste of Victory!" They left that tournament on top of the world. What a difference from the night before. Thank you for the wonderful show of sportsmanship! That is true class. You made a difference in these girls lives this weekend. Thank you, thank you, thank you!