What I needed on a Sunday - - -

(fyi - above picture has nothing to do with post . . . just wanted to show how excited I am to be in that diner again, in Indiana, in three days!:)

- - - - was to remember. I don't often write in my journal, although I have around 20(I love notebooks and journals and compulsively buy new ones when all the old ones only have around 4 or 5 pages written on:), but when I come across things I have written that strengthen me in the here and now I want to dedicate myself to doing it more. I gave a lesson today and shared an analogy that had come to me during an experience last year, luckily I had written it down soon after it happened and sent it to myself as an e-mail; I needed it today and wanted to share it -

My mother visited the other night. It was a welcome surprise. I was watching The Blind Side and had taken a break to get me a Pero. I noticed the fiery red that danced upon the mountain rocks and decided that there must be a brilliant sunset that I did not want to miss. I walked to the porch, opened the door and . . . there was her car. I didn’t expect them to visit so I was surprised and not sure I was seeing things right. I didn’t see her or my father but the car was on the road. At that same moment a knock came from the side door and it was my mother. She was smiling and had brought me a book that she had bought for me. I let her in; we talked and had a good night. She finished the movie with me and it was great to have someone there.

It was getting late and she needed to leave. I walked her out, in pure Susy Chard fashion, and stood in the driveway as she got in her car. It was a clear night with a cool chill in the air. I stood in the driveway as she drove out of sight. My thoughts turned to all the times she had stood and watched me go. Even from my childhood I could always count on my mom to be in the bay window or on the porch watching us kids leave. She always watched until we were out of sight. I had a prayer in my heart that she would travel safely and thought about the many prayers that had been offered on my behalf – that had been offered with the hope and wish that I would return home safe. I then began to think about my relationship with my Heavenly Father. There has always been this distance that I know is on my end. I guess the truth is that, at times, it’s hard for me to see Heavenly Father as a father and not some distant All Powerful Being. I want to have a close relationship and feel the same kind of love that I do from and for my earthly parents. I thought about that moment when I left his presence to come to this earth. I believe that he came to see me off and watched until I was, figuratively, out of his sight. I want to believe that he might have paused and hoped that I would return to him safely. Of course, in reality, we are never out of his sight and he knows the paths that our lives will take. Even still, I can see him in my mind’s eye watching me go and with all of his heart wanting me back. He does love me as he loves all of his children. He wants us all to succeed. He has given us the way but it is up to us to follow.

Even as I read over what I have written there is still a corner of my heart that doubts. I doubt me. I doubt that I will be able to succeed and fear enters my heart as I think about the obstacles that I have faced, along with those of the people I know. I know that fear comes from Satan. The power of God has no room for fear – his light casteth out all darkness. In my heart I know that is true, spiritually I know it is true but my natural man often takes over and I doubt and fear. How can I overcome? It seems as if I do well for a day, maybe two, but then I falter and fall into the trap of self hatred, anger, fear, confusion and pain. I weary myself and those close to me with always feeling and talking about my same struggles. I want to overcome; I want to live with happiness and peace.

It seems that he is always there giving my little witnesses like this to help me along. The other day I went to the park down by Ogden canyon. It was cold; the wind was blowing and cutting across anything in its path. I sat on a bench looking across the vast field. Two men were there, flying kites. One was younger, maybe my age, while the other was older – father, grandfather maybe? The older one was helping the younger to get the kite in the air. He stood with the kite in his hands and would throw it up trying to catch the wind. The kite would hit a current and up it would fly. It spun and danced with quick rapid movements – it was fighting the wind. Eventually though, the kite would fall to the earth in defeat. The older man would once again pick it up and throw it into the wind. With guidance and kind words he would encourage the young man to keep it going. The young man would seem bolstered and tried with all his knowledge and energy but somehow, the kite would fall again. This pattern repeated itself a few more times.

After a while, once the kite had been in the air for a while, the older man left his watchful post and walked to another part of the field. He bent down and picked up his own spool. He stood there calmly, making small but determined jerking movements. Far in front of him was his kite. With each of these movements the kite fluttered against the wind, trying to find the perfect channel to set it free into the sky. After a few moments, the kite caught the wind and up if flew. It was wonderful. I could hear the wind batting against the kite almost in a kind of rhythm that indicated that they had danced this way before. I watched all of this in silent awe. My mind soon began to flood with meanings and allegories. I felt like I was being given a private tutoring and that my Heavenly Father was trying to show me something. I thought about how our lives are like the kite. They are unpredictable –sometimes we are soaring high and all is perfect, other times we dip low and come close to crashing down. Many times we do crash. But, like the young man, we are fortunate to have someone there to help us pick up the pieces and try again. With help, we are thrown back into the turbulence, but again, things beset us and we come crashing down. We will succeed, however, it is in our nature. Our success comes not from winning but from never giving up.

Through out all the trials and missteps, there will come a time when we will be able to handle life on our own. We will walk to our kite pick up the string and get ourselves in the air, always remembering, however, that we are not truly alone. Our Heavenly Father and our Savior stand there helping us maneuver the difficulties, having taught us the way to get out kite in the air without help. We have been given the tools, in the form of the gospel, that teach us how to survive in the good and the bad times. There were many other things that came to mind as I sat witnessing a quiet moment of kite flying. It was a testimony to me that we can be taught anywhere and at anytime if we are watching and listening. I walked away feeling empowered and loved. Today, I look back to remember that feeling because it has faded and I am alone again. It’s a hard struggle, it’s a daily struggle and all I can say is that I want to try harder; I want to overcome and not give up.

Lunch Hour.

Who buys hard boiled eggs from a gas station?

Me. That’s who! Living life on the edge is a scary place to be. My hand shook as I reached into that Chevron fridge and grabbed my egg from the broken container with the sharpie-d .25$ post-it attached to the carton – pushin’ boundaries always comes with a price, my friends, always with a price.

Little did I know the price would be fate (or Satan or maybe Satan acting as fate) making the checkout line weave through the Easter candy aisle. Now, those that know me know I am a sucker for anything NEW, especially of the candy variety. White Reese’s, peanut butter TWIX, heck – the Take 5 candy bar alone feed my gotta try this habit for a few weeks; stick NEW on anything and you better believe I am a purchasin’ it! For that reason alone I stay away from the Holiday aisle. But there I was, stuck in a line that opened my eyes to a whole new Easter world – coconut DOVE swirl! chocolate covered peeps! DARK mini Cadbury eggs! two flavors in one starburst jelly beans! Seriously?! Are you kidding me? I could have filled my basket to the rim, had I been carrying a basket, with all the craziness offered. It took everything I had to make it through with only one NEW item in hand . . . the 2 in 1 Starburst jellybean.

By the time I made it to the cashier I was a wreck, what with the adrenaline pulsing through my veins for the egg risk and then the will power mustered to not take every new item in the store, I could have passed for Nick Nolte’s mug shot! Nonetheless, I made it through, and couldn’t be happier— the 2 in 1 was the best choice! Get out there and buy yourself some NEW starburst – remember they are only sold . . . for a limited time . . . . . . .

The trip that NEVER ends . . .

. . . or at least, the reporting of the trip that never ends. That's right, you thought this was over but Barcelona had barely begun! Looking back now it seems as if it never happened but oh, the fun that was had - - -

We both could never get enough of the beach - it was amazing!

Proof we were there:)

One of the most beautiful cities at night -

Can you see La Sagrada Familia?

Having our breakfast before we head out (we also were able to take a little for lunch, shhhh:)

Walking into Plaza Espana

Looking towards the Palace -

This one is for you Marcos - we found Honeynut!

I could totally live there - like right on those palace steps -

Riding the rails, the skyrails, on our way to Montjuic -

Nothing seems to interesting to me . . . yet

Castle entrance - starting to get interesting!

Taking a little lunch break and looking out on the view - breathtaking (my mother, not the water!)

Having some mate with our lunch - - -

until we could not take it any more and had to leave the view

- to become Julie Andrews. We lost it and began to see ourselves

needing to defend the castle! The enemy was on its way,

and we needed Stefan! He was our first line of defense from the many, crazy

arrows that were coming our way!

Now . . . stay tuned for tomorrow and some life changing videos - hint: Susy sings!

19+11= 19+11= 19+11=

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

GABRIEL!!!

Thirty years is a long time to know someone. I heard one time that sibling relationships are the longest relationships that we have through our lives, I am grateful forever that Gabby is one of my three long standing connections. From childhood he was my best friend, the person with whom all my crazy adventures took place. Growing older and getting into high school for some siblings would be a time of separation, but not for us - Gabby made sure of that. He was cool, funny and popular; I was shy, awkward and at times a loner. My happy Sweet Valley High moments only happened because he included me and saw me as cool and made sure his friends knew it -- three of my best high school friends were his first.

I remember a particular lunch hour that meant the world to me. I was sitting in the entryway reading and observing all the varying groups that high school brings and suddenly, before me, was one of the most popular student body officers. When you are a freshman, any senior, especially the SBO's, are the tops! He asked me how I was and handed me an envelope, saying someone asked him to surprise me. Opening the envelope I found two tickets to Matchbox 20 (seriously cool for the late 90's - don;t judge! :) and a note, "It would be the greatest if you would come with me!" I was stunned and excited and asked who it was from, Gabriel came in from outside at that moment with his typical grin and asked me, "Well, you excited? Will you come with me?"

Gabby - you made me feel cool then and I still feel happy now when I think of all the great times had and the future to come! Thank you big brother and happy birthday! Maybe I can pay you back and send you to this concert -

listen to it all! Each word is dedicated to you, just replace his name with yours:)

Better yet . . . . watch this - - -

Goodness . . .

I write with gratitude this morning – Gratitude to God, gratitude to community, gratitude that I live in a place where “a friend in need is most defiantly a friend indeed”. I also write to do what Elder Eyring has said in “preserv[ing] memories for the day that I, and those I love, will need to remember how much God loves us and how much we need Him.” Remembering the blessings of God and learning to recognize his love towards us, His children, becomes paramount in a day in which we forget easily that which is good, and seem to see only the pain that lies in wait to engulf us on every side.

The need to help, I believe, is innate to the human experience. Images flash across our televisions from far off lands overcome by the harsh reality of Mother Nature’s power – Chile, Hati, New Zealand and most recently Japan; we also glimpse the darkness of manmade pain in the form of wars, genocides, murder and all other forms of human depravity. It is in those moments I believe our hearts yearn to assist, to comfort, to sustain . . . but how? I live so far away, what can my contribution do? There are so many in need, it is too overwhelming. Cynicism can at times take over when we see such great needs and see a faltering in those needs being met. For that reason I am grateful that I was able to witness, on a smaller scale, that help does come.

Rain became an issue for our tiny community of Peterson last night. Homes were in danger and help was needed, the creek was flooding over. The main road was closed and worry for neighbors and friends was apparent. Through assessing the situation it was made known that sandbags needed filling in Morgan. I went and the outpouring of help and love from community was apparent. I arrived and forty or so people were there already hard at work, through the course of the evening that numbered swelled to around two hundred – men, women, teens, children and even a loving Morgan Stake President who rushed over without changing his suit and sloshed through the mud without worry or care. After talking with Gabriel later, I realized just as many individuals were on the Peterson end stacking and moving the sandbags that Morgan filled, with furry against the rising waters.

Goodness is what I felt, love is what I saw and remember is what I need to do. Moments often come when I am cynical and I have forgotten the goodness of God and his love towards his children, in even the smallest things. People can help and little things do make a difference. Prayers for those faraway lands can sustain, and the power and help derived from them can be as present as a sandbag piled high against surging waters . . .

COSTCO is as good a place as any . . .

to find out that - - - -

this awesome poet extraordinaire, who happens to be my brother :), is going to

STANFORD University for the next two years! Not only that but he is going there

with the Wallace Stegner fellowship! (FYI, picture is of the man himself, Stegner!)

There we were - my mother, my father and me, huddled around my cell phone in anticipation of what the grand news could be. Gabriel had called not one minute earlier and asked if I was with mom and dad and if we had heard, "Heard what?" I asked.

"Mario's news! It. Is. Big! Call him right now," he hung up without saying goodbye and we were left wondering if he had gotten into the U of U's doctorate program, little did we know it would be greater than that. I pulled our cart over to the side, dialed with the speakerphone and there we stood, next to bulk semi-sweet chocolate chips and across the aisle from the extra-virgin olive oil, "What's your news?!" I asked. He chuckled and asked how we knew he even had news (he should have known that news travels fast amongst the Chard clan, especially good news because if there is anything we are always ready for - it's a celebration:)

"I got the Wallace Stegner fellowship at Stanford!" Cheers erupted from our little corner of the Costco world and people stared as if we were crazy but we couldn't have cared less because in that moment we were in Lafayette Indiana with Mario, Wendy and Ethan and nothing else mattered.

I yelled out at random strangers, "My brother is going to STANFORD!" It was one of the funnest things I've gotten to do in a while and Costco was as good a place as any for that type of news:) The odds of recieving this amazing fellowship are less than 1% - incredible, right? I think I have a less than 1% chance of getting invited to Will and Kate's wedding or winning a million dollars or even becoming Kanye's back up singer, and that's really nothing that you want to be seeing anyway - but this, this is cool.

Mario, Wendy and Ethan - - - - we love you. we are so excited for this new adventure and we know it could not have taken place were it not for the unflinching and sacrificing support of Wendy and Ethan for the hard working, Mario. Mars, I know that what you have received in your life so far has come through dedication and hard work and I am grateful to you for that unyielding example!

Congrats my favorite Indiana family! You deserve it!

Focus

Yesterday I drove home late. I had spent a great time at dinner, getting to know a new friend. By the time we left the restaurant it had begun to rain and lightly snow. The wind was blowing and causing the snow to swirl in different directions and the closer I came to home the harder it became to concentrate on the road. The winter after I had turned sixteen I had my first experience in driving home alone in a big snowstorm. I had finished my late night shift at Jubilee and my nervousness caused me to call my dad and ask for his advice, but mainly I just wanted to hear him say that I could do it, that I didn’t have to worry. There is something about talking to my dad that brings just the right kind of comfort. He told me something obvious but that worked as I prepared to travel home, he said, “Just don’t concentrate on the snow, find the white line and watch it. If you stare at the snow you will only get disoriented.” Simple, right? It was, and that advice got me home safe.

Ever since that night the only voice I hear in a snow storm is my father’s. When I am tempted to be mesmerized by the snow, I think of him and try to focus my attention back to the white side line. Last night I was again drawn to his advice but in that, I was also given some spiritual promptings that I have desperately needed. The thought came to me that too often in my life instead of looking to the white line – to steady my course and get me through difficulties safely, I am following the swirling snow of problems, heartache, disillusionment and my own issues and in turn I become lost and disoriented. Last night I was awakened to my foolishness and strengthened in my determination. There is much in life that is good and many who are willing to help and love. The white line can vary from individual to individual but ultimately the core comes down to love, hope and faith; for me the love is centered in those I love and those who love me, the hope comes in understanding of gospel principles and looking forward and not back, finally, the faith is in Jesus Christ.

I am grateful for quiet moments and gentle promptings. Focus on your white line and know that while the snow remains, it does not have to be your focus.

You really want to see this . . .

I have a confession to make: I LOVE music. But really, don't we all? There has never been a moment in my life that could not be solved or enhanced through just the right song. Fourth grade brought me Mr. Mecham and "Rocky Mountain High"; John Denver taught me the power of metaphor and my life has never been the same because I've seen it rainin' fire in the sky. Jon Secada taught me to relish life and take many, many "Mental Pictures".

When I became a freshman in high school I thought The Verve Pipe wrote their song about me and my angsty mellow dramatic ways, I can't tell you the tears that were shed in my darkened room of pain. Not to mention a life altering concert at Saltaire that found me sitting off in a dimly lit corridor just soaking in the music only to have EMT's bring a passed out girl over to me and set her head in my lap until they could go outside and get a stretcher - - -awkward.

There have been times when I have experience something and a song pops into my brain and I am immediately taking mental notes so that in heaven when I get to edit my life and put it to music, I use only the most correct song - I mean, how embarrassing would it be to have Air Supply playing when the reel of my mission is going and what really fits is Stop this Train by 'ol Johnny Mayer himself (I kid, I kid - loved my mish:)

So today, dear friends, I want to add to your repertoire's of heaven editing music with this great song by Sara Bareilles, Let the Rain. If you do not own this album stop whatever you are doing and get it! I mean it, get - - -it! Like . . . . . . . NOW. I have only survived the last five months because I had Sara and then yesterday I survived because I found this crazy but endearing music video by a bunch of kids . . .

Let the Rain

Pay close attention to:

- the singer looking off camera to read the lyrics

- the intensity of the drummer - he has the same face the whole time

- the mad guitar skills that rival even mine

- and last but not least . . . . the clapping! So, the best part!

Love these kids, love Sara Bareilles, love music!!!!!!!!

The tale of the Dreaded Chowder

Life is full of tales, is it not? The tale of Hansel and Gretel, the tale of Despereaux, the tale of two cities, even the tale of Snooki and the Jersey Shore. So many stories that move us to tears, that inspire and motivate or sadly, that cast terror into our lives at the very thought that people do really live and act like the Situation and his friends. The tale I want to leave you with today will most likely not kindle any of the previous mentioned feelings, but tell it . . . I will!


As long as my eyes have been blessed to open and awake each day in this world I have lived a life as a Chard child. There are many intricacies to that life that only a fellow Chard child could understand but it is our challenge to educate those around us and I take that challenge to heart. One aspect of our childhood that will set the stage for my tale comes from a carefree happiness and a “live in the moment” outlook on many endeavors into the life experience. Now is it right or wrong? I say, do not judge only enjoy, because we sure did!

The first of the month was a cause for celebration, money was comin’ in and we were a goin' out! A fun family film, a night in a nice restaurant with those you love (Chard children does “Christopher’s” ring a bell:); are these moments not what life is about, the simple pleasures? I dare say it is, dear read, I dare say it is. Another pleasure is, while being at the nice restaurant, ordering food that you love and that makes you glad that you have opposable thumbs – that food for my mother is . . . soup. There has almost never been a time in my life, with my mother, when an individual was setting a water glass down in front of me and introducing themselves as “Chip” or “Ronda” that my dear mother hasn’t looked up and asked, “What is the soup today?”


At this point in our little tale you might wonder, “Well, Mia, there are many options to that fine question.” Well, you are wrong. In my mother’s world there has only ever been one answer – Clam Chowder. My mother has only ever had one hatred in this world, seafood. Ironic, isn’t it? This child of the ocean, a woman born clutching sand and sea in her little palm, grew to have a full blown disdain for any meal that could be concocted from an underwater sea creature; most prevalent being the dreaded Clam.

If the calendar is correct and unless you are Mayan or Chinese, then this first of the month deluge of money has arrived and so out to the restaurant we went. Saturday took us to Applebee’s. We were going to a wedding and stopped at our neighborhood hangout for a hamburger with some friends while we watched the big game with our feet dangling from bar stools. The waiter arrived and without fail my mother asks, “What is your soup today?”

His response, “Well, its Friday, so, Chicken Noodle – oh wait, no, Saturday - - - well then it’s CLAM CHOWDER. Can I get you a bowl?”

My mother’s lip curls and her eyes brim with moisture, “Umm, No.” I laugh and we move on. Food is ordered, conversation flows and we soon are out in the cold again, on our way to Hooper.


Yesterday rolls around and we find ourselves in Logan, its dinnertime, we are still in the funds – Bluebird it is. After twenty years of asking the same question and getting the same answer, would you still ask it? My mother the optimist would, “What is your soup today?”

Before the words are out of waitresses mouth, my mom is shaking her head and casting her eyes to the menu; she knows the shape lips take before they speak the words, Clam Chowder.

Heart Attack? No, no silly - just a very respectable Panic attack!

Gas prices are rising! Food prices are rising! Jobs are being cut! Global warming is killing us - - -have you seen the weather around the world?! Terrorists can strike at any time! Education is falling through the cracks! Bipartisanship is a thing of the past, we all hate each other and we will never agree! Living in inversion is like being a chain smoker – watch out, you are gonna die! Better make sure you have your food storage! Better make sure you have money in the bank! Wait, never mind, banks can’t be trusted go back to hiding it under your mattress! It’s freezing in Florida, you will never eat an orange under six sawbucks a piece again! Heath costs are rising! No insurance? No problem . . . seeing you for a sprained ankle will now only cost $2,000 dollars – discounted rate that is, discounted rate! Hollywood is taking over the world! Integrity is a thing of the past!
And on and on and on . . . Doesn't it seem like some days a panic attack is your only option?
Phew.

How to act as if you've never seen a Hotel before . . .

First - this is the most important . . . stay in crazy European hostels for weeks prior to booking your Hotel stay so that when you finally see the inside of the good life, you will act as follows - - -

Begin taking pictures of the outside of your hotel like it was the holy grail, the Eiffel Tower of all hotel destinations . . .

Then turn on your Vanna White charm and show off every last inch of your room, including the closet -

Run around the room exclaiming, "They got curtains! I can't believe they got curtains!!"

Try to take a picture of your cool CD player as well as a fully stocked mini bar of non-alcoholic beverages (aka The Mormon Jackpot!)

Then completely loose your mind by taking almost a million shots of your private bathroom - the sink, waste basket,

lined up soap, faucet, hanging monogrammed towel,

the other robe, the bidet - - - and the ticket to know you've made it - a phone . . .

but that's not all because in your joy you've forgotten you've already taken a picture of the sink -

so move the camera on down below the sink and find your slippers, extra towels and various kits for your convenience - shoe shine, shaving and toothbrush!

And if you haven't gotten your point across through all the stand alone bathroom pictures, have your mother pose with the phone in the luscious robe . . .

then lounge around on the bed with an actual headboard,

and gaze at the ceiling in wonder.

Finally - - - crack open your mini bar beverage and

Enjoy - - - the - - - -

VIEW!

Don't make fun of my Castellaño . . .

Knowing the language in a foreign country? Awesome. Getting called out by an old man in a park because you are from Argentina? Not so awesome:) We made a few friends by hanging out in the park, because everyone hangs out in the park but anytime those friends were wise aged gentlemen, they made life interesting. One told my mom he would marry her and the other couldn't believe she dared have an accent, come from Argentina, then move to the U.S - - - to each his own though, right, to each his own . . .

Plaza Catalunia! (by the by . . . travel tip - bring a large scarf, one hour earlier, it was our beach towel)

Peterson Utah needs a fountain like this - can someone get on that?

Also, build a statue like this one and bring over the moon . . .

Architecture is king in Barcelona -

Give me a few months and I will turn my parents log cabin into this . . .What? I can do it, I was born to be a sculptor!

Next time you are in Barcelona, stop by the Argentine Embassy - we did:)

Then don't forget to walk down Las Ramblas, all the cool kids are doing it . . .

Pick out some flowers at the fresh market -

Or pose in front of them! Mom was in heaven, if she picks up leaves and rocks from everyplace we go, imagine how I had to hold her back from breaking off a few stems, madness I tell ya!

Now here is where it gets interesting . . .

La Bouqueria . . . best farmer's market in - the - world!

Want a fig? That lady will get one for you?

A piece of chocolate, some nuts - don't worry, they have those too

Cool fruit that looks like Medusa hair? Check.

Ever wondered what a gummy egg tastes like? Heaven - mixed with a little of "Holy Crap, that is a lot of candy!"

From now on . . . I only get fruit smoothies if I can have one of each -

- or if I can share with my mom because we were poor from all the loot we just bought Gabby -just sayin' . . .

But may I warn you, the mixture of seafood,

eggs (do eggs smell?),

and nuts, is a doozy! Not for the weak of heart. Buck up Sailor!