Good job if you made it to the end of this post. Most pictures are by our niece Rachel (Rachel Angela Photography). Most of my memories, thoughts, and feelings are recorded in my journal, where they will stay. If you were there, I hope you found your face in a photo or two. We are very grateful to all who came and all who showed their support in any way. It really was the very best day.
I didn’t realize this is how grown up our family looks. I’ve had lots of moments to reflect on life and our Heavenly Father’s plan of happiness in the past few weeks. This picture (even the absence of our adored missionary) represents all that the Savior has given us: absolutely everything that brings us joy. Here are just a few things this photo represents to me, made possible by our Savior:
repentance and forgiveness
the Gospel of Jesus Christ
covenants and ordinances
marriage
sacrifice
missionary work
miracles of healing and understanding
children
hope
testimony
faith in Christ
obedience to commandments
the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
patience
love
Richard and I came away from Paige’s wedding day without a single picture, which tells you what a great time we had. We will post more another day. These are snapshots from family and friends who have taken the time to share with us. Thank you!
Leading up to the wedding, we had a big week, including Timothy’s 17th birthday and Christmas, and a hundred other interactions and lots of music. We saw Star Wars and decorated candy houses, turned in two Eagle Scout applications, and finalized special gifts. I am very happy.
Last night I realized I was in a house of whispering couples: Paige and Michael on the sofa, and Timothy and Richard at the table.
Honeymoon plans?
And car shopping.
I finished the dishes and went to my room to play the violin so they could speak more freely.
This week, the kitchen table in its 104-inch majesty was our repository for stacks of paper for two Eagle projects, merit badge work, hundreds of wedding invitations, and handouts for 40 women for Stake organization training. I really like what all these stacks of paper represent, and neat stacks of paper, some of them so beautiful, were satisfying to see.
Today, though, I am tired. And I hope I didn’t stuff merit badge cards or baptism guidelines in the wedding envelopes by mistake.
That is all I have today. It’s just a full time. (You may know I hate the word busy…)
We delayed my birthday dinner to a later night, hopeful that we could spend more time together. After hearing our plans, one of our sons showed us in a variety of ways that this was not where he would like to be.
My reaction when he asked how long this was going to take was to more fully define a line between us. I dug a canyon with steep cliffs, hungry mountain lions hidden in caves, and a raging river below with my words, and retreated to my bed, so hurt that I considered canceling the evening.
“Why do you say one thing when you really mean something else?” The Spirit spoke to my mind. “All you need to tell him is that you want to spend some time with him for your birthday.”
My opportunity came during dinner as my son slumped in the seat beside me, refusing to enjoy the meal.
“I said a lot of things, but what I really meant was that I just wanted to be with you for my birthday,” I said quietly, leaving out the reprimand.
We walked through the mall after dinner and stopped at the Lego store. When he saw my delight at the tiny baby Lego figures, he carefully pulled the box from the shelf when I wasn’t looking, scaled the canyon walls to reach me, ignored the mountain lions of bad memories, and bought them for me.
I think the Lego sparkle babies were his way of saying what he had really meant to say, too.
Not pictured:
My look of relief when I realized that “making” kids love the Pauline Epistles is not essential to being a good parent.
The happy bride in her dress.
Mark’s concerto performance.
The best apple crisp I have ever made.
The trophy Timothy earned by learning three concertos over three years.
The view of the Salt Lake valley from my car as I explored above the University of Utah while the boys had a class. The trees, dressed in their fall colors, and the sky changing to gray with an approaching winter storm offered the view I needed.
The cake our family made together that tasted so terrible we had to throw it away.
The letter from Daniel’s mission president assuring us all missionaries are safe in their apartments as there are riots going on.
The dog is healing. He finds comfort in the boys after school and Richard in the evenings. During the day, he is stuck with me, the mean one who forces down medicines, locks him in the mudroom during errands, gags at the smell of his food, and cleans up his messes while muttering threats at him. I have never been a dog person because they scare me. This experience taught me that I like our dog a little bit, after all.
I finished my study of an important topic to me in the Book of Mormon in the early morning hours on Monday. This has been my steady work for months, and considering what it has given me, it seems funny it is only 16 pages. It is my record of reconciling some things I heard in a lesson at church and what the scriptures have to say on the topic. This study helped me see how things really are… And they are not what the teacher said, and not what I thought. Still, I could feel something was off, and now I know. And the Book of Mormon is, as ever, absolutely true, and a perfect manual for life. Amen.
In recent years, I have measured success in projects completed and books read, people visited and words written. By most of these measures, I failed this summer, seriously failed. However, the days were full. I did what I thought I should do each day. I put aside some things to do the invisible and unnamed. Some days I wasted time, other days I did too much. I learned that my goal to read one book a week is not a good goal. The goal should be to keep reading.
So, the lesson of summer 2019 is to keep going, even when it seems like it doesn’t make a dent. Eventually, I will finish that 900-page book, and hope to see that these days of unremarkable tasks were the making of me.
(Photos are from our Labor Day hike to Twin Lakes, which took us past Solitude Lake and Silver Lake)
Just as I was surprised last year by a serendipitous sunflower at Daniel’s departure, another one popped up in the garden on time for his one year mark. It brought me to my knees right there on the lawn. God knows our days.
Our boys performed at a piano recital on Monday night. Timothy played a Debussy piece and Mark played a Beethoven. We took them out for Chinese food and someone asked if Timothy was on his way to a mission. Aaack! Not yet! Mark pushed his food around his plate. He is full of cares.
I walked into the middle school with Mark this week, and through the halls of the elementary school to visit my friend’s Harry Potter themed classroom. I did not walk into the high school, but corresponded with one of Tim’s teachers. Still, I am in denial that they will be in school again on Monday. My homeschool memories clutch my heart and make me cry a little each August. Was I really so bad for my kids?
Tim invited a girl over to watch a movie and we all felt awkward and I found myself baking brownies as a bridge. Even their fudgy goodness couldn’t span the gap, but they were delicious.
This summer, the lawn care and landscaping business run by Tim and his friends has kept him outdoors all day, six days a week sometimes. This week, in addition to mowing, they decided to offer a garbage can washing service. Tim was in charge of transportation of the cans, just emptied by the garbage truck, to a new location where another boy pressure washed them. I have texts from happy customers about their sweet smelling cans. This is life with Timothy: unpredictable, but excellent.
Paige moves home tomorrow for a few weeks before her semester begins. There will be three “children” home for the next few weeks, with only one abroad.
Backpacking nearby, Richard is able to send me photos of the evening with Mark. What a blessing.
I remember the last night at girls camp in Arizona, I moved to a new tent by myself to make space for the Bishop’s wife to stay. That night, I noticed that there was cell service in this isolated tent, and Richard and I were able to have a precious conversation that I needed so much.
That was seven years ago, just before our move to Utah. Many miles and experiences later, the highlights of my summer are still moments of connection with Richard, whether on long walks or during fleeting calls from campsites with spotty service.
As I wrote the last paragraph, Richard called from his hammock, somewhere near Brighton. All is well there.