Category: Motherhood

Two Weeks of Music


The boys had two very busy weeks of performances, from jazz band to piano recitals and piano concerto performances.  Richard took me to the Utah Symphony and Utah Opera production of Candide because he knows I like Opera.

With two children grown and gone, I see the little things such as reading, the arts, and music are part of my most precious memories. I have no regrets for the resources and time spent on lessons and books.

To watch a child do something well is one of the supreme joys in life. 2018 has been full of these moments. Well done, my children. You bring me joy!

Once Upon a Time

I drove past the masses of cars at the elementary school Halloween parade this morning on my way to an Old Testament class. And I felt old, but ok with that.

Once upon a time, I was a great costume maker for the cutest children ever. It is enough for me to just have memories now.

Update: It’s enough to have memories AND my youngest show up at the door with his friends. 😉

Catching up

Mark was honored as an Eastmont Patriot of the Month for citizenship, leadership, scholarship, and extra-curricular activities. Woot!

I helped make this quilt for a new baby in the neighborhood.

Every conversation at our house includes a status update on my massive painting project and Richard’s apple harvest. I stopped counting gallons of paint, but Richard knows exactly how many pounds of apples were produced.

Court of Honor

Missionary

BYU Homecoming Spectacular 3rd row seats. Awesome!

It’s Inktober for Paige on Instagram.

ONE page of a piece Timothy is working on. Legit!

Did I mention I am painting a lot? It feels like our house is finally becoming our own. I waited a long time to paint because I knew what a big job it would be and I didn’t have the time. So far, I have spent about 17 full days on it. I have not had this kind of time…ever in my life to devote to such a project. Someday I might post “after” pictures, but you could also come and visit.

New School Year

On the first day of seventh grade and tenth grade, I realized that summer wasn’t long enough. The routines were too familiar; the boys slipped into old patterns and we drove down the hill like summer never happened. “But wait,” I thought, as Mark left the car, “I really like having you around.” And when Timothy left the car, I decided to take the long drive home so I could be a little bit sad. Yes, yes, it’s all peachy and good they go to school. Yes, yes, they will grow and learn and have independence. Blah, blah, blah. Research, resilience, lights, socially adjusted and so forth. But for me, it feels like a continuation of a lonely, weary road today.

Consolation

Kindness is the most difficult thing to take right now because it brings out emotions I think I have already dealt with, but kindness also reminds me that I am understood. I may not be answering the door, but I am doing well. I am out each day doing Relief Society work. I have taken the kids to the mall and Costco and up the canyon for driving practice. I am preparing meals and cleaning the house. I am not crying all the time, but I am not yet myself. I am thankful for friends, whose gestures cannot all be pictured here. From eighty-five year-old neighbor Stanford called to check on me, to sixteen-year-old friend Lillie who decorated a cake for us, they represent many ages. Another special friend has left a succession of packages throughout the week. We were invited to dinner and received many flower deliveries. We have felt love from many states. There are friends from Texas and Arizona and high school who have taken time to write words of excitement for us. These gifts of consolation add up to quite a celebration, which is appropriate, considering we have a son who is worthy and willing to be a light.

D&C 31:3

We sent our missionary out today with a mass of other young elders at the airport. The empathy tears for other mothers and my own calm were surprises to me. I felt God was there, too. That was no surprise.

New lenses

At 2:15 on Monday, I captured the kids doing these things and asked them to pretend I wasn’t taking pictures.

Richard dreads the idea of having to wear glasses, but I have worn them since I was nine or ten years old and know how great it is to have vision restored. Like Richard, though, I sometimes fight the different lenses I need to take on with time: the lens of experience in saying goodbye at college or a mission, the lens of what it’s like to sit with someone who is in pain, and the lens to look outward when my own troubles want to dominate my view. The lenses of experience with disappointment, repentance, and wisdom after stupidity are particularly difficult to assume sometimes.

I think the most difficult thing I ever did was say goodbye to my friends who went on missions. Three best friends left within a year and I was shaken emotionally and physically. For this reason, I worried what it would be like to send Daniel, who is more dear to me, on a mission. I have my moments, of course, but I have something I didn’t have when I said goodbye to my friends when I was 18 and 19 years old. The lenses I have acquired over time teach me that a mission is not just a goodbye. It is everything good. I have seen it again and again. I am really as peaceful about this as I have ever felt over a big transition. I felt it when he read his call to me. I feel it now, even though we have less than a week left together. It is peace not earned by personal experience, since I have never sent a son before, but it’s evidence of a generous God.