Last week for a Relief Society activity, we did a modest gift exchange, keeping our purchases around $5. The gift was supposed to represent some of our favorite things. For the gift I brought, I included an extra fine point pen, some Jelly Bellies and some lipstick. Into the bag also went this paper with a few favorite scripture verses. I ran out of room before I could do much from the Bible. Trust me, there are lots of favorite Bible verses in my life.
Perspective is almost impossible to have without stepping back and allowing light, space, and sometimes time to give us necessary wisdom.
Mark plays a console game on our television after his school and piano work are finished. It is a 30-minute reward for his efforts. He doesn’t sit as he plays; he jumps and dodges on one spot of rug, mimicking the moves of the game. The inexpensive rug in the room is starting to show wear on his spot. Exasperated, one day, I pushed my laundry baskets over the area and asked him to play on a different square of carpet. Days later, as I vacuumed over and over the spot, trying to pull up the fibers of the rug so they wouldn’t look so matted, I realized that I was being ridiculous. If Mark were to no longer be part of our life, I would treasure that square of rug because it was his spot. I would be sad that I had been more concerned about the rug than him enjoying his reward for hard work. No more complaining about the rug.
I have on loan two books which commemorate 25 years of our neighborhood church history. On its pages I see the portraits of my friends when they still had their children living at home. I read the accounts of their service in the church, doing the work I do now. Younger, more vibrant faces shine up at me from the pages, showing my now elderly neighbors in their days of deep service in the Church and the community. We are living the same story, 10, 20, 30 and 40 years behind our friends. I see ourselves in our friends’ faces in the book, taking our turn to serve with the youth and Relief Society. We will keep changing responsibilities, just as they did, and find ourselves back in Primary or Sunday School, and perhaps back again. What do my friends in this book teach me? That these days are fleeting. They are the adventures we will look back on for years to come. The stretching we feel now can help us grow to be a little more wise and kind– a little more like our friends.
I am tenderhearted this week as I finish the end of an era of teaching home school. The books on the shelf have served their purpose. What will I do with them now? I am not ready to give many of them away. They are a monument to how we have spent our days together. I gained a bit of perspective recently as I mourned this loss. I realized that what I have given my children, and the bond we have because of it, will not be taken away, even though circumstances change. As I step away from the books, papers, projects, and especially precious time together, I begin to see the fruits: our relationships and abilities rise up and take their place. I am so thankful for these years.
11th birthday:
Dinosaur museum
Lunch with Dad, Paige, and Mom
Lego Store, Lego building
Pizza on the red plate
Bike riding
Pack Meeting
Arrow of Light (Cubs in our pack get their faces painted when they receive this award.)
New Boy Scout
Great-great grandmother Violet’s lemon cake
The sounds of rain stopped sometime after 4:30 am and several inches of snow, silent in its descent, fell on our new plants and young tree foliage. The Sistine Chapel blue of the sky reveals itself between the retracting clouds, and I can hear the thaw begin. Clumps of snow fall from tall branches and the roof releases the water held in crystals, water vapor rising, and liquid water falling, adding to the chorus of dripping water sounds that I hear when I step outside for a photo. There are several accidents on the roads on the way to work and school. The roads aren’t slick, but the snow seems to have shifted capacity for patience or reaction time. Mark may never forgive Nature if the snow is here for his birthday tomorrow. Richard carefully applies the blow drier to his new tomatoes to release them from the weight of snow. I stop at the store and pick up a movie, War and Peace to put on while I fold laundry this afternoon. Richard leaves a little later for work after his garden resuscitation effort.
Earlier this week my sister stopped by after a dentist visit with her children. Excused from public school and home school for a few hours, the children went on an “explore” through the neighborhood without their mothers noticing. Worthy of anything written in a Winnie the Pooh book, the children and baby left the backyard in search of Mark’s favorite hill. I should come with a warning: If you get into a deep conversation with me, you are likely to get lost driving (accidentally drive to Wyoming instead of the family cabin, ’06), burn your dinner (bread caught on fire in the oven, ’04), or lose your children for a while (the great explore of ’17).
We reserved our tickets to the Tucson Temple open House in June. I am so excited about it that I told my sister about it twice while she was here. We will see old friends and take a trip to the Desert Museum; we will eat at La Placita and take a drive to our old haunts. My heart will ache when we drive by our old house which sheltered precious childhood years. We will try to glimpse into the backyard full of lizards and the brick retaining wall that little feet ran across every day. I will be too warm there, but I am grateful to visit the place I was so anxious to leave and give it the proper thanks for all it was to us.
Did I mention we are going to Tucson in June?
I am up before the sun, finding an ability focus in the early hours that I don’t have during the day. I am a light switch kind of person with my abilities. If I have a high-intensity day, the next day I make sure that I am “off” in terms of expectations. Sunday was an “on” day, with many demands. Monday was an “off” day, where I rested, cleaned, and prepared a big roast that could be eaten for a few days. Tuesday I was “on” again, working on a funeral luncheon, with all of the details and interactions and laundry that come with it. You get the picture.
I think that people often wear being busy like a badge of honor, and use the word “busy” as an excuse not to do the important things. I am trying to avoid the word busy in my vocabulary. Instead of “busy,” I say “full,” because my life is full of choices for how I will spend my time, and I choose a full life. When I hear the word busy, I think of someone who is a slave to their commitments.
Even though I like the “on” and “off” formula for living, it’s not always possible. Sometimes I have to be “on,” day after day. I have seen a healthy dose of grace enter my life this week, allowing me some emotional, physical, and mental stamina that I don’t normally have. I have also felt some profound love and acceptance from my Heavenly Father through prayer that gives me more strength than any plan or formula for living that I come up with.
Acceptance and love are powerful motivators. By this, I don’t mean they are incentives to keep going, they are the fuel. We are loved by God, not because we did a good job; We are loved because we are his children. I have felt his paternal joy that comes from seeing me accept his help to climb a little higher.
The annual bouquet in our front yard tree is in bloom, and as I sit in the living room with it right outside the window I think there couldn’t be anything more lovely. We celebrate our anniversary this weekend. What has the past year brought in our lives?
Places we have been together: Fish Creek, the Weber, San Diego, Sparks, St George, Moab
Recreation: Scuba diving (Richard), racquetball, walking, hiking, skiing
Projects: garden, 4-wheelers, wiring, humidifier, furnace, painting, quilts, dolls, books
Disagree about: piano lesson times, entertainment, the allure of rock shops
Agree about: most things
Difficulties: watching children go through trials; sometimes feeling disconnected because of full lives
Happy things: watching children overcome challenges; annual family Christmas video; trips with the family; watching our children sing, draw, paint, dance, excel in school, and show responsibility at work and church; dinner dates
Things we need to improve: temple attendance; time together
Things I admire about Richard: he is a faithful, regular blood donor; he enjoys being Scoutmaster; he always has a project; he kisses me goodbye every morning; he drives a terribly uncomfortable car with only a tape deck to work, over an hour a day, and doesn’t complain. He is married to a sometimes aloof, always sensitive, high-strung person and is still standing. I try to make up for my faults by occasionally baking brownies, lemon bars, and cookies.
May has arrived. Our children are expected to be in 3 places at once sometimes. Baseball, extra piano rehearsals, church activities, work, school concerts, and performances pull them in many directions. With 4 drivers and 3 cars, we are just scraping by. But wait. Richard and I have to be in all of these places and more. I take it back. It is impossible. Last night there was no dinner. We just ate cereal or whatever we could scavenge. Someone said that she felt May was busier than December. It really is, but there is little baking required. No wonder it feels so difficult. May is December without the carbs.
A few weeks ago I was looking for something at my parents’ house that our family left there by mistake. I went into the craft room where my mom has a shelf for each grandchild to store things. She often uses these to put misplaced items after the grandchildren leave. Inside my kids’ baskets on the shelves, I found the most amazing assortment of notes, drawings, and cards to my kids from their young cousins, who have been using these baskets as mailboxes. My family didn’t know it!
For Family Home Evening last night we decided to write back. We will slip these into their baskets when they aren’t looking. Shhhh! It’s a surprise.
This is what Paige moved home to last week, but we finished and she has a bedroom again.
So much of my life, our lives, feels like it’s under construction right now. We are stretched. We are challenged.
Paige finished her second year of college, moved home for the summer, and begins her job search tomorrow.
Daniel learned to dance the Lindy Hop in ballroom. This is a seriously difficult dance.
Timothy is filming sketch comedy each day after school. I knew he would be drawn to this eventually.
Mark and Paige painted her room with me.
The boys have a big piano ensemble performance this week.
AP test weeks have arrived.
Richard left in a snowstorm to go camping with the Boy Scouts on Friday and came home happy.
Life is full. I am learning that many things I spend my time doing, thinking they will make the family happy, don’t do this at all. A few examples:
Clean house? Not important to them.
Clean clothing? Important to them.
Conversation at 11pm? Important to teens only.
Talking TO them? Not welcome.
Listening to them? Always important.
Milk and cereal always on hand? Important.
Telling them about what I am reading? Not important. A real turn-off.
Using what I am reading to be more empathetic? Important.
Seasonal decorations? Not important, except at Christmas time.
Freshly painted baseboards? Not important to them.
Much of what I do is just for me, after all. It’s ok to do what I love, but I need to be honest about who I am really serving. Wrapped up in things only I care about under the guise of serving my family is counterproductive. This makes me unapproachable and busy. This is not how I want to be.