Boys will be boys...

...and girls will definitely be girls.

Let me share two experiences we've had recently.

Experience One:
I was in the middle of explaining to Hiram how Terra dances or something and in the middle of a sentence, with my arms flailing, I punched him in the nose.

Me: [while standing up on my tippy-toes so that I can hug his head and kiss his cheeks and his nose] OH MY STARS! Hiram I am sooooooo sorry. I am so sorry. I didn't mean to do that. Are you okay? I am so. SO. So. Sorry.

Hiram: Cebre, I'm fine. It's okay. Really. Every time you accidentally hit me, you always make up for it by kissing me better.

Me: I've done this before?

Hiram: Yeah... a couple of times.

Experience Two:
Yesterday, I texted Hiram asking when I should pick him up from his internship. He responded, "Now?" which is abnormal as his response usually says sometime between 4:30 and 5pm and it was 3:30pm.

At 3:45pm he called and said, "Are you here now?" and I explained to him that I had just left work and I would be there in about a half hour, and he explained to me that he thought he broke his shoulder.

For the rest of the drive, I was emotional. Whenever a song on the radio was happy and positive, I switched stations. It wasn't matching my mood. Hiram was hurt! How could the radio be happy?

When I picked him up and he got into the car, he hardly moved his arm or head. As we drove, he explained. He had fallen on his shoulder while faking a leg injury for a film. Of course, he didn't tell anyone about it.

He kept saying, "This is stupid." I kept thinking, "This. Is. So. Sad."

By the time we got home, I couldn't hold any of my sadness back. Out of my control, the corners of my mouth were turning down to cry, and my eyebrows were creasing. I swear, when I start to cry I look like a baby.

I don't know whose baby this is. But that's what I looked like.

Well, after I started to look like a baby, I cried like a baby.

He has hardly expressed any pain, although you can see it on his face if you're watching as he moves suuuuuuper slowly. I've probably cried about seven times. And every time he tries to hug me, and I cry harder because I'm scared that it hurts his shoulder.

We've both agreed that I've cried more over his shoulder being hurt than I would have if my own had been hurt.

What we've learned:
1. Hiram doesn't react to pain
2. Cebre overreacts to everything
3. Our poor kids are going to receive such mixed signals from their parents

Love at Our Lighthouse

After almost nine months of marriage, we've decided to change my "cebreful" blog to a Jacob Family blog. Hiram regretted losing such a perfect adjective, but there was just no attractive way to add the name "Hiram" to that word. Hibreful? Cebramful? Uh...

We've chosen the title "Love at Our Lighthouse" for the following reasons:

1. Our life together began here - On a drizzly March day, Hiram knelt down on the wet ground in front of this lighthouse and asked me to marry him for time and all eternity (see photo at right). He was loving and patiently waited while I was unfocused, happy, and babbling.

Over a year later, none of that has changed. I still chatter, and he still loves me.

2. Love at home - We expect to use this blog to share all of our moments filled with love, excitement, laughter, and even sadness. We hope that by reading it, you'll be able to feel a little bit of the love we share in our home.

3. Like a lighthouse - As some of you may know, I use my blog sometimes as I would a podium and microphone on Fast Sunday. I love to share my thoughts, feelings, and testimony. We hope that someday we can be like a lighthouse to those around us, by shedding light and bringing them closer to God. We will continue using this blog to post our insights, thoughts, and ponderings about the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

This Easter Morn

Those who grew up in the LDS faith probably also remember participating in the Primary Program.  Each child in the ward would be given a part to read. My mother would help us practice at home. The older kids had longer parts, and we would sit on her floor and look in her mirror and practice. I'm pretty sure we even put the Step exercise equipment on a coffee table, and pretended it was a podium as our siblings sat on the couches in the "congregation".

After years of participating and practicing, I only remember one thing: it was what my tender brother Racer said.

Racer, maybe five years old, with his dark hair combed to the side and his shirt probably untucked from khaki pants, stepped onto the little stool they put behind the podium for children, put his mouth close to the microphone, and yelled.

"HE LIVES AGAIN!"

At the time, it seemed that he had made an error. I, as well as the many around me, giggled out of amusement and embarrassment for him. Now, I'm humbled to tears.

Those three words hold high significance. He lives again! He is risen! Why not shout them from the pulpits as a sweet child once did?

We have a Savior. He loves us enough to have suffered through all.  "[He] was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed." (Mosiah 14:5, Isaiah 53:5) He allowed himself to be mocked, beaten, and spit upon, suffering more than I could bear, simply so that you and I could become perfect through His sacrifice. After nails had been pierced through His hands, wrists, and feet, He hung on the cross. He had lived His life selflessly serving, healing, and feeding His sheep. He then died selflessly, for me.

It's hard for me to imagine this. It's hard for me to imagine that someone so perfect could give up His life for someone so selfish and imperfect as me. But He did. He did it for you as well.

People have maybe wondered why members of the LDS faith do not wear crosses like other Christians tend to do. It is not because we don't believe in Christ or because we don't believe in his Atonement. We most definitely do. The reason why we do not have crosses on our church buildings is because of the following three words: HE LIVES AGAIN!

What a beautiful message! Christ, our Savior, our Lord and Redeemer, lives! Such words make me feel warm, bright, and peaceful. As our beloved Prophet, President Thomas S. Monson said, "The most glorious, comforting, and reassuring of all events of human history had taken place—the victory over death. The pain and agony of Gethsemane and Calvary had been wiped away. The salvation of mankind had been secured. The Fall of Adam had been reclaimed." (He is Risen!, April 2010) Because of His sacrifice, we too can live.

Here, my Easter Morning is bright and beautiful, reflective of that significant day many years ago.  As I remember my sweet brother's declaration, I too, shout the joyful message,

"HE LIVES AGAIN!"

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Later comment from my mom:

Thank you, Cebre. There is a story behind why Racer knew that part so well. We used to read the Val Chadwick Bagley board book, "My Little Book about Jesus" often. Near the end of the book, if you remember, there were pages that were darker that showed a picture of Jesus on the cross on the hill. The picture and words were kind of scary and said, "Not everyone loved Jesus. Evil men killed him. But He didn't stop helping us." 

As soon as we turned the page, though, the picture was of springtime and the open tomb and Jesus standing there talking to Mary. In the middle of several sentences, it said, "He taught His friends that He lives again." 

I think Racer was so happy to see it change to joy and happiness that he would always shout out, "He lives again!" when I got to that part. It was so precious. Like you and your memory of the Primary Program, I'll never forget how much joy he felt when I turned that page.