Spring Break?

Spring Break happened, but we didn’t travel. I put miles on the car going back and forth to shuttle Mark to be with cousins. I finally visited an antique mall in Springville and purchased some beautiful plates there. I sewed with friends one afternoon, and I think that I drove our cross-country-road-trip-conversation about funerals.

I spoke in a leadership meeting at stake conference, which is a rare opportunity, so I dedicated each morning of Spring Break to writing and practicing my delivery. When the meeting was over, I rested on the couch and didn’t move for a long time. Richard watched a miniseries, The Woman in White with me. He worked in the yard all weekend.

Daniel enlisted Paige to illustrate something for a biology project. Tim worked so much on his landscaping job that we rarely saw him. Two more of us received a vaccine for COVID-19.

Our dog has ailments, then rallies.

Today everyone is back to routines: school, work, music, etc. but I am lagging. On Mondays you usually find me at my best, but I need a rest from the “break” we had last week from routine.

Happy 12th Birthday to the Blog

Here we are on Easter. There is Richard who spent the day preparing food in his smoker, wearing one of his many blood donation shirts. I rushed into the day without thinking about doing my hair (typical), but tried to set the table beautifully and have a clean kitchen. Mark wears his favorite color and will go on to eat more than anyone sitting at this table. Tim teases us with the BYU shirt and remains mysterious about his plans for the future. I’ll add that he is so strong from his landscaping work. I notice that Daniel is wearing a new version of the teal and white shirt he loved and wore all through high school and his mission. He’s almost finished with his first year at BYU, and his friend, the lovely McKenna joins us at the table. Paige is effortlessly elegant and happy, and has spent the last year since graduating from BYU settling into working as a freelance illustrator. And there is handsome, hardworking, and smart Michael, who changed jobs this year and is enjoying more sleep (even in April… he’s an accountant).

The blog is less about our children than it used to be, but they remain the ones who occupy our thoughts and conversations. They are still the focus of our energy and time, and when they linger at Sunday dinner as they did this week, I can draw from that happiness for a long time.

Some of you have read this blog from the beginning. There are 1,919 posts in the archives. I owe you a diploma or something, not that I have anything figured out except perhaps how to muster a tiny bit of faith. To each reader, whether you have read for years or months, I send my love to you.

Adventure stories

Easter weekend is here. The Sanchez family has been busy getting ready for the memorial for my grandmother. Mixed in with music practice, writing her life sketch, and other things, I have been editing pages of my dad’s memoir of his growing up years playing in the hills. Paige finished the illustrations for the last pages. Our goal was to finish by Easter, and we have done it. His book is a cross between The Hobbit, John Wayne Westerns, and Hardy Boys mystery books.

At times, it has been an escape to work on these stories. We included a map in the book. I think this is one of my favorite illustrations she did. The blog can’t do it justice.

We are celebrating being alive, celebrating those who have passed away, and celebrating the Savior’s Resurrection this weekend in the sunshine.

I have been in a fog and suspended by grief most of February and March. On Saturday we were moving through the carwash and for a short time, everything came to a halt. It was like the car was doing a reenactment of our experiences of the month. We were stopped, uncertain of the future, anxious, blind to what was ahead, and unable to do a thing about it. I know I was alive during these past weeks, but I don’t remember much. Also, when I say I felt grief, along with some sadness, I physically ached. I have had a few better days recently, and my explanation is grace. Some people might give credit to “time.” I still say it is grace. Time seems meaningless right now, but God’s help is tangible.

Monday pep talk

Mondays are the definition of possibility. Sundays are about rest and vision and goals, but I set my feet on the path on Mondays. I haven’t met my mistakes of the week yet, so there is less to carry. My boys get back to their routines and I don’t have to wonder where they are. I have a lot on my mind, but it’s manageable in steps. Take courage now, let’s get started.

On the docket

Spring and winter have been at war all week. Sun and snow, wind and mild. Even our daffodils have hung their heads a bit in the fray. I went for a walk one afternoon that made my eyes water and my ears ache for the bitterness of the elements. But we must keep moving, keep our heads up (not just talking about the daffodils), and hope for the Easter weekend of our dreams. Next week, my siblings and parents will be gathering for the first time since Paige’s wedding in December 2019. We (and the world) could use some togetherness. So, let’s all hope for sunshine so we can stay outside for long talks as we watch our families hunt for Easter eggs.

On the docket for this weekend:

Get back to weekly scripture appointments with a friend.

Begin our family Easter study.

Make more edits for my dad’s book.

Read more from these books: My Antonia, Theodore Rex, and Dusk, Night, Dawn.

Make more guacamole.

Identify the function of each room of the house so I can tweak the design to reflect this season of our lives. I think I want to move the bookshelves to a completely different area of the house. This plan may also include getting rid of the elementary school science supplies, I don’t know.

Perform a scented candle intervention for this house.

Thanks, steady friends. I saw significant traffic on the post I wrote about fear, another evidence that sharing experiences is one of the important things we need to do. We are getting through these times together, despite distance.

Most of these are gifts from my children. They are tiny and sit inside an heirloom glass case at my kitchen window.

179 years old

As I drove past the church parking lot on an errand, I saw that my neighbor wrestled to manage a plastic tablecloth in the wind. The balloons, color coordinated for a Relief Society birthday party, knocked around perilously, and I wondered if they would still be there when the outdoor-socially-distanced-grab-a-cupcake-and-visit safely-party began. When I arrived twenty minutes later, there were just a few women, masked and shivering along the sidewalk, enduring the cold for connection. A sister I love noticed me and held my arm and inquired, for real, how I was doing. Later, another sister said she heard I had been through a hard time. Then she listened, just listened.

I had to leave quickly, but I am glad for the ten or fifteen minutes I shared with my friends. I know that in those minutes, two friends gave something vital to me. I was the only one there with church keys, so I was able to open the building for the women to take shelter from the wind. As I write this, I remember what Mark said when I told him the story, “Mom, you and your Relief Society hijinks.” Beyond the “rebellion” of a few women sheltering inside the church during a pandemic in order to talk for a few minutes, I would say Relief Society has always been about helping women and families come inside from the wind. Happy birthday, Relief Society.