Each year on July 2, I remember this was the day that I walked into our house for the first time and I knew that this was where we should live. It was a unique experience for me, where I suddenly understood the meaning of an old dream. This was my kitchen in the Salt Lake Valley that my dream prepared me to recognize.
I have filled books with our experiences, photos of youth activities and neighborhood parties, and handwritten cards from this era of our lives. It is the neighborhood connections with specific people, including our children’s spouses, Michael and McKenna, that make me I believe that the Lord brought us here.
Even though our numbers at family dinners are small, I still set a special table on Sundays. The rest of the week, we sit on bar stools around the kitchen island and eat from basic plates and drink from plastic cups. Whatever the setting, dinnertime is a sacred family rhythm. Amen.
These seasonal displays are a lot of work, so I chronicle them. Everything is old in this array except a few of the books…there are always new books. Do you see that poinsettia being amazing in June? Weird.
Richard awoke at 3:30 am on Saturday and had an impression that he should check the furnace room. He found the beginnings of a flood in this basement area, and bleary-eyed, we cleared out the wet boxes and vacuumed up excess water on the floor through the early hours of the morning. We were able to discover the leak was from the water heater. There was minimal damage, and the carpets are fine.
We were disappointed, as we had plans to go to Susanna’s wedding reception on Saturday, which we had to miss. We were also without hot water for a couple of days.
The thing that we will remember is that we were so completely cared for by the Lord.
He inspired Richard to wake up so he could protect our home. The flood began before we were scheduled to be away from the house. Mark was home on Saturday and could help Richard move out the old water heater and bring inside the new one. Richard had tools, knowledge, skill, and some helpful insights from others so he could install the water heater himself, long before any plumber could come.
I don’t know why we were spared the trial of a fully flooded basement, but I know who spared us.
I will never get tired of seeing all of these faces, even if it’s only possible through a video call because of distance.
Utah, Guam, Alabama…these are places we never guessed we would be. Our family is open to change, and this has enriched our life experiences. Sometimes, despite loving a place or a situation, we have left because we felt led to do it.
I have learned to not identify myself by where I live or even what I do. It can all change very quickly.
We have been through such a winter that our culdesac held a contest to see who could guess the day when the large mountain of snow would melt in front of our house. The snowplows push the snow straight up the street and leave the mountain in our yard and parking area. This year, it was taller than Richard.
This is a collection of photos our neighbors shared via group text as the contest became tight between the guesses of Richard and Blake. I have not included the video a neighbor filmed of the snowpile. These photos were taken by various neighbors, at night and day, from many angles. The number of text messages exchanged over the rules of the game and our neighbors’ enthusiasm to comment on this snowpile have been high.
Richard recorded its time of death Saturday, April 15, at 12:20 p.m.
Our lives feel like they are on pause in this endless winter with so much snow that our canyon is closed.
We watched general conference all weekend. For us, this looks like Legos and blocks on the floor, blankets on the sofas and chairs, a whiteboard and markers for making summaries of talks, and so many snacks. Every crumb of snacks that I poured into bowls was consumed. I made cinnamon rolls and broccoli soup, and served a key lime pie and lots of other things. We walked each day to restore ourselves after the stupor of watching television.
I write this on a scheduled lazy morning. We are expecting another pile of snow today. (Happy spring break to us!) I can’t get excited about this week of snow and the removal of Mark’s wisdom teeth. In fact, I dread, dread, dread the wisdom teeth appointment. (Snuggling deeper into a blanket) Maybe if I think about Easter and make some plans that will help.
I am also watching another flight for Tim. He is always chatty and energized when he gets a transfer, which for the Micronesia Guam mission means an oversea flight. Richard watches YouTube videos analyzing plane crashes for enjoyment when I am not around. He knows that I don’t need to feed my mind any more death scenarios. I will be glad when the little green dot on the website lands in Guam later today, which is tomorrow for Tim.
I had several unconnected conversations with friends last month that led me to pick up my orthodontic retainers and wear them again. Never stop wearing your retainers is my piece of wisdom for today. There are lots of retainers in our lives, not just orthodontic ones: Date nights, repentance, the sacrament, finding God in prayer, finding Jesus in scripture study… Never stop with the retainers.
I have a quilt to finish, but I think I will wait to shop for more fabric. My stack of books is growing. Last week I was a little sick, and one night I went to bed discouraged by what I hadn’t accomplished. But then I felt the impression to consider all I HAD accomplished that day, despite all. Sometimes we just need to make a backwards TO DO list, and simply list what’s DONE. For me, this is the ultimate self care routine.
I chose these oil portraits Paige painted in college to frame. I really love them. I suppose framing her work and hanging it all over the house is one way I am saying goodbye.
So wrapped up in my thoughts, I misread the clock yesterday and made dinner very early. With my extra evening hours, I redecorated the shelves to embrace February, ready or not.
It is ward conference season and I am thinking a lot about my stake speaking assignments and ministering to very different needs among the wards. I am thinking about Paige and Michael’s move, and I am on the hunt for all the places I can display Paige’s art. Thinking is work. Writing talks and lesson plans is work. Planning is work, and so is settling into a new reality. When I accomplish something tangible, like cleaning out a closet or desk, I call it a nice break from the more arduous and intangible work going on within. Thinking is work.
It is winter proper; cold weather, such as it is, has come to stay. I bloom indoors in winter like a forced forsythia; I come in to come out. At night I read and write, and things I never understood become clear; I reap the harvest of the rest of the year’s planting.
Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
This was a paragraph that I read today and continue to think about. I, too, like the winter habits of reading, being still, thinking, and writing. I can flourish in dark winter as long as I have reminders that I have friends out there.
This afternoon I hung a very large magnetic board to display handwritten notes and some art. You’re right, it isn’t arranged very well yet, but we’re on our way to something good.
