Yes, It's a California Post

I'm in the lobby of a chain hotel with a lovely fireplace and the smell of free breakfast in the air: coffee, syrup, and sausage. The tv is playing infomercials (Nutri-Bullet right now,  before was Wen and before that Insanity) and I've been out here since about 5am.  I wanted to let the guys sleep. I only sleep about 6 hours at a time these days, so after getting in bed around 10pm, yes, I was up about 4:30. Awesome. It's become something of a routine, so I'm trying to make the most of my early mornings.

This past week, we've been traveling in California and I tell you, as a place to visit, it has become a favorite. I have no idea if I'd ever actually want to live here, but I sure like looking around. There are oceans, plains, hills, mountains, Joshua trees and cacti. There are mighty cities that give way to enormous fields of real food framed by endless orchards of nuts and fruits.  Beautiful vistas unfold everywhere we go. Admittedly, I'm easy to please and curious about anyplace that's not familiar, and many people would not be quite so thrilled with some of the things that thrill me, but that's okay. I'm having a blast.

We started out in Newport Beach last weekend. That town is seriously like a living museum of What to Do and Buy if You are Among the Much-Monied in America. Houses everywhere that when Zillowed (something you do when you are NOT among the monied) show prices in the multiple tens of millions. Dream cars. As in Lamborghinis and Ferraris and McClarens. Seen every day.  In Newport, a Mercedes C-class or BMW 5-series is the like a Camry or Accord in Real-World America. It is fascinating to observe as an outsider. I'm sure that life has its own kind of normal, and Sam, who served here for 6 months of his mission, loves the town and the people here. That's why we came. We got to meet one of the families who loved and cared for him on his mission, and that was the true treat. They were wonderful and their admiration for my son was evident. Thank you Sanders Family, for your goodness.

It really is beautiful though, both in natural ways and man-made. Here is the view from just outside the condo where we stayed:

I loved Balboa Peninsula for its cottages, set right next to each other; each unique but with a certain style that creates a wonderful, harmonious neighborhood. We had a lovely sunset walk on the beach there:

It's a bit surreal for me to be towered over by my sons in this photo, but it represents a happy memory of easy togetherness. Maybe that is why I love California so much. It is the place where many moments like this one have happened for me and my family. And now my early morning time is gone. More about the rest of the trip soon.

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And Now For Something Completely Different

Nope, it's not knitting, or photography, or even cooking. Not tonight. Tonight was rubber stamping. Yep, that thing I used to do constantly from the time I was about 14 years old but that I haven't done for about 5 or 6 years. 

I was SO rusty and it took forever to come up with something I liked and could actually handle. I stamped no fewer than twenty-five 1x2 inch white rectangles (on BOTH sides) with the words "thank you" before I remembered how to properly line up a stamp, and still the words are off center in every single one. So I distressed those little rectangles, and no one will ever know. 

I like distressing. It means to wreck something on purpose for artistic effect. I know! It's sounds great, right? You should try it. 

Distressing aside, I used techniques that are old and simple; nothing innovative or fashionable here, and please don't zoom in and look closely. There is little of the clean perfection that graces the pages of stamping catalogs. Actually, we probably should call it Wabi Sabi rubber stamping, so put away your rulers. I'm pretty sure Stampin' UP! does not have a Wabi Sabi section in their catalog, but I'm okay with that. 

I never was perfect, but tonight I remembered that I used to be pretty good at this and had some fun. I figured out a design I could mass-produce to send to Sara. It's good for missionaries to have cards and notes on hand, and I still have gobs of supplies, so now I have a cute little set of 10 thank-you notes to send to New Mexico for her to use to share the Love of God with others around her. 

I'm kinda proud of myself, because it really has been years and years...and years!  Every so often I get rid of a few more stamps and sometimes I think it's time to get rid of all of the paper-crafting stuff. Then I go and have a nice, productive evening like this. Sigh. 

Now that I've crashed through the walls of the past to the forgotten crafts, you never know. It might be quilting next. 

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My Part of the Story

Little Feet

Did you know? I'm a grandmother. I really am!  This past week I got to meet a new little person and it was amazing. She's not mine to introduce to you, but I can tell you some wonderful things.

But first, here are the answers to the questions:

It feels fantastic.
No, I don't feel too young.
Congratulations are definitely in order.
I don't mind a bit if you call me Grandma.

I think that covers most of the common ones. It's a pretty big deal, so my friends are curious, and that's okay. I'm 47,  which I supposed could be called young, but is actually a few years older than my mom was when my son Jeff was born. But really, becoming a grandma has nothing to do with age for me. It just feels perfect and right.  A baby is born and I get to take a small step into a whole new world. How lucky am I?

But, as I indicated, it's not really my story. Grandmas are supporting characters, as it should be. I'll have chapters to tell about in future years, but for now, my daughter-in-law and son are the ones who get to share the tale of this little girl, on their own time and in their own way.

But here are those wonderful things:

She has the sweetest, softest skin and when her little warm self curls up into that space on my chest just under my chin, I am pretty sure that the world actually stops spinning.

She's calm and, at under two weeks old, ever-so-drowsy yet. Occasionally though, she opens her eyes and looks at me with that other-worldly gaze that babies do--the one that looks like she is about to explain to me exactly how the world works, but then, just as she's finding the words, she blinks and goes back to sleep with a tiny sigh.

Because of these and so many other moments, I am so very grateful I had the means and the availability to go visit my granddaughter in her brand-new-ness. I loved having her sleeping next to me as I sat on the couch, a tiny warm bundle breathing softly while I folded laundry or knitted. I loved being a bit useful to the new parents and letting them get a couple more hours of sleep. I loved that Ashlyn let me make her dinners and do her dishes. It's not so easy to let a mother-in-law into your life, and each experience I have helps me love her more and better.

Family life is the way to learn most of the best and most profound truths of the universe, and I definitely feel like I understand some of those mysteries perhaps a tiny bit better after holding close a baby who is not mine in most ways, but actually is mine in a few important, miraculous ways.

Welcome, my dear. I can't wait to get to know you better.

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The Present Day

I've been working so hard at catching up on the last 4 months that I've lost the thread of what's happening now. And I all have to show for the attempted traveloguing is a bunch of drafts. I have to get writing again about the things that I'm experiencing instead of focusing so heavily on memories. Maybe that lack of recording in real time is why I'm feeling restless and sort of unsettled right now. So, here it is, my actual daily life.

When last we met, Sara was heading out to the MTC. Her visa to serve in Brazil has not yet come, so she is still in Provo Utah. Her time there will end on Nov. 26, then she will be assigned to serve somewhere in the United States until her visa is processed. That could be anywhere that has a need for more missionaries, from West Virginia to California. She is hoping to go to the Deep South.

Her attitude continues to delight me, and her reports are filled with learning, hope and humility. Here are a few photos to give an idea of what she's up to.

Here she is actually leaving us at the airport:

I do love that spring in her step as she swirls away.

Here are more photos from the MTC:

The 4 women missionaries in her zone. 

She says this is from soon after she arrived. 

Yes, she and the other sisters are making silly faces. 

Sam ran into her and her companion while doing some work
at the MTC

Her last email included this sweetness:

I just wanted to say that life is great. We are so lucky to have the experiences that we have. Even the hard ones, especially since we have someone who knows EXACTLY what we're going through right next to us the whole time. I'm talking about Jesus Christ, if you couldn't guess. He loves us so much that he took on ALL our pains and sicknesses and sadness and of course our sins. Isn't that AWESOME?!?! For you! And you! And all of us! He did this so that we could give it all up to Him. So take advantage of that! Once you've tried your best and can't go on anymore, just pass everything on to our older brother and Savior. He's waiting. 

Now Evan and Eric and I are adjusting back to life as three, and much of that time is spent getting ready for Evan to go away. Just today he tried to have his wisdom teeth surgically removed, but an errant sip of hot cocoa shared by a friend (he was supposed to be totally fasting), then honestly confessed at the surgeon's office caused it to be put off for another 2 weeks. He's also nearly got his college application for BYU finished, and he has started on his missionary application. In between all that he has wrestling season starting up and an Eagle scout project to plan.

It's the busy season for me in both photography and knitting. Things just come up. And of course, I'm going to be a grandmother, which I don't even think I've written about on her yet in any meaningful way. And I've gotten very excited about the work opportunities in front of me right now. And I've STILL been traveling like a fool. And I've got to start making sense of it all.

This is not a particularly good post, and for that I'm sorry, but writing again from my heart, rather than only documenting facts and dates, seems important. I am restless and in one of those cycles where my connections to people around me seem tenuous. I keep getting defensive (and offensive) and saying wrong things and causing awkwardness with people I love.  It's tempting to want to move away and start over somewhere. We've talked about moving down so Eric could walk to work and we could live the urban life for a little while, complete with new sights and sounds and breakfasts at the local cafe and all that. I have to say, after typing that little scenario, it sounds refreshing and right, but it would be so much work to get this house ready to sell, and I'm not sure that is the best use of money right now. I need to consider it more, and remember that wherever I go, there I'll be, including my big mouth, so there are probably better ways to calm the tempest in my heart.

Question for you: Have you ever felt this way? Like you just can't get a human interaction right to save your life? Or is it just me?

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This Is Really Happening!

There is a sense of heightened everything in my life right now. From the mundane to the precious, it all seems exaggerated. 

This weekend, my 4th child and only daughter will be set apart from her peers and her usual pursuits and take on herself the role of full-time missionary. Thus the deeper meanings, this dissonance of temporary finality. It's not the end of anything, but it is the turning of a life's corner.  And so I notice that it's the last time for a while... the last time for this , the last time for that.

Probably the last time for a while Eric and I will be at a restaurant
with these two together (He's here, behind the camera).

Everything is happier. Or a tiny bit sadder. It's the 4th time I've sent off a missionary and you'd think I'd be better at it by now, more poised somehow, or less surprised at the tenderness, but it's like the first time every time because each child is so different. There is nothing routine about packing your child up to eventually travel nearly 5000 miles and live among strangers for 18 months. 

It's awesome in every way, because it's what she wants to do,  yet I'm reeling at the thought of her leaving. I'm so excited for her and all that she will both learn and accomplish, yet I'm not ready for her to go. I'm more than a little taken by surprise that her time at home can now be ticked off easily in hours rather than months or weeks or days. How does that always happen? I'm just going along, trying to keep up with the laundry and bills when, all of a sudden, wheeee! the roller coaster of my life goes down another giant hill and all I can do is put my hands in the air and give in to gravity. 

Swoop! 

She's had a long wait since her assignment came in June and she's worked hard to prepare. We have a few tasks left to complete, such as some last-minute mending and alteration of clothes, and choosing a coat and boots for cold times, but all she really has left to do is pack her suitcases.  

Now it's my turn to get ready. She asked me last night if I would cry. I gave my canned answer which is, "Not in your presence." She is not a cryer. She will keep all her butterflies on leashes, stride off and probably not even look behind her at the airport security gate. I, of course, will stay and watch until she goes through the line, then through the scanner and then walks down the concourse, until I really can't see her anymore. 

But not yet. I have a few more days to hear her laughter and be amazed by the person she's becoming right before my eyes as she rises to this very big occasion. That's the very best part of all and that I will enjoy. Every single minute. 

Swoop indeed!

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Well, Now I Know

My eye, as sketched by me. 

Thanks Dr. Strong. This explains a lot. All my life, I've had to sort of turn on and turn off my eyes. I never failed an eye screening or struggled in school or to read, because I was really good at making the switch from double to single vision. I do remember that sometimes it was easier to just let everything go double and I would think of it as "turning off my eyes" for a while. I think everyone does this sometimes, but I pretty much had to do it all the time: decide to have single vision. I don't know if that makes sense, but it's really true. Because I adjusted easily and never exhibited any symptom or difficulty that would attract the notice of a teacher or doctor or parent, I was never diagnosed with any eye trouble whatsoever. My actual vision was always good, great in fact. Double vision is different than visual acuity. When I finally did get glasses a few years ago for garden-variety presbyopia (old eyes), things continued pretty much as they always had. Double vision doesn't show up in a regular eye exam, so no eye doctor ever mentioned it. It was such an automatic part of my life that it had become utterly sub-conscious and it never occurred to me to bring it up. Honestly.

Earlier this year, however, I started noticing that I couldn't keep the double vision under control. It was becoming the norm instead of the exception. I could still work to see things singly, but it was increasingly difficult and was causing fatigue, headaches, and sometimes, I actually couldn't refocus. I got a little worried.

I first assumed I'd sabotaged myself with too much work and started using timers to monitor time spent reading, using the computer, or doing handwork. I experimented with new light bulbs and lamps; adjusted screen resolution and brightness. No relief at all, and it was troublingly random. It seemed to have nothing to do with general eye fatigue or how much sleep I was getting. Doing the dishes could bring it on. And I was noticing it while driving.

I then assumed my glasses prescription was wrong or had suddenly changed. I went back to the eye doctor just 5 months after my last visit and he updated my prescription a tiny bit (remember, my corrected vision is awesome-don't worry all you potential photography clients out there!), and sent me on my way, but the double vision persisted. Finally I spoke up. He was immediately concerned and told me that double vision is never normal.  (Hello? Why did I never know that? I feel like that should be one of the posters in school rooms, right next to the Eleanor Roosevelt one about feeling inferior. Hey Kids-Double Vision is Not Normal, Even if You Can Turn it On and Off and You Always Pass the Vision Screening!). He referred me to a specialist eye care group, and I went yesterday for a two-hour eye exam that left me utterly exhausted.

Vision is important. You know? It's a big deal. During the exam I got so tired and then really emotional as my eyes responded more and more sluggishly and the doctors did more and more tests and I felt like I was failing them and started to think that maybe I really am losing my sight. It was a strange moment. Finally, in that blaze of unfiltered light as seen through fully dilated pupils, I drove home with a diagnosis.

The good news is that there is nothing medically wrong with me. I have no disease or degenerative condition that's going to rob me of sight in the near future. The interesting news is that my memories are correct and I've had this condition my whole life, but my 47 year-old eyes just can't do the extra work of keeping my eyeballs in sync anymore. I have a strange condition that's fairly common but that I've never heard of called 

Convergence Insufficiency. 

It's a neuromuscular thing that basically means my eyes don't work together properly because of muscle control. It is rarely diagnosed in a regular eye exam. In fact, kids who have it are most commonly treated for learning disabilities from ADHD to Dyslexia to even more profound problems (that they probably don't actually have) which has it's own sad set of consequences. Fortunately for me, I have a very quick mind and am a very good actress. No, really. It's true. I was never a star student, but I refused to give any teacher a moment's pause (I'm both a second child and an oldest daughter and we just don't make other people WORRY about us, you know?) and lived pretty much on that  righthand slope of the bell curve in terms of educational outcomes. I honestly do remember being frustrated often enough and feeling like I had to fake it a fair amount. It's so strange to think that it never once occurred to me to tell anyone about this or ask for help (See the previous parenthetical note.). I just soldiered on and flew under the radar. I feel like a lot of kids do that for a lot of reasons. I know my kids did in various ways. They've all come to me now and told me of frustrations or struggles that I had no idea about because everything seemed fine.

But I digress. I will say though that if your child is struggling to learn in some way and you're just not sure you have your finger on the problem, look into Convergence Insufficiency. I've seen figures indicating that 15% of children have it and don't know.

So, now I have ahead of me about 3-4 months of fairly intense vision therapy. I'll have 1 or 2 weekly in-office sessions of about an hour's length each, and several minutes of daily home exercises. The doctor says that even though my eyes are aging, the therapy is well-tested and effective. My chances are excellent for a complete cure!

If you were keeping track, there really wasn't any bad news. This is not a big deal. It's been a weird and hard few months, and yes, I'm not really seeing these words (yay for above-average touch-typing and word-shape recognition skills!) but as soon as the office of Berger and Taylor opens at 8am, I am making my first appointment for therapy. The thought of seeing clearly again fills me with hope and makes me realize just how heavily this relatively small thing has been sitting on my shoulders. As I mentioned, I felt so fragile and upset yesterday during the exam and I was frustrated with myself for being such a wimp. Finally, finally... the thought coalesced into consciousness that I have been terrified at the prospect of losing my sight. Terrified, friends. I guess that's understandable, but I don't like to complain so I've pushed the fears pretty far down and repeated aloud that others have struggles far more challenging than a little blurry vision. But I was scared. I really was.

Deep Cleansing Breath.

Now I can move forward. It's always so much better to have a problem to solve than a nameless issue to simply worry about.

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Some Urban Outfitting, a Wedding and a Trek.

Today is one of those transitional days between summer and autumn that defines the word delightful. The scene around me is colorful with blue skies, golden sun, and green leaves; comfortable with cool air and breezes; and slightly magical with the noticeable change of the angle of light as the earth tilts toward equinox. I'm sitting out on the deck in the early morning sun to write this, and am glad for my woolly slippers and a cup of steeping tea against the welcome chill.

So, against this backdrop of the waning summer, I present what I learned during its beginning days, the month of June:

Sam hates shopping. A lot. Poor him, because I made him get all new clothes. We got it done though and he is now outfitted with a workable wardrobe that will serve for classes, dates, and the occasional formal occasion. Other than those traumatic moments at Kohls, it was so good to have these beginning days at home with him. He did get a job right away, thanks to a good friend who owns a small local business, but it was part time and left us hours to visit, catch up on movies and try and help him ease back into life without a set schedule and the constant feelings of spirituality that accompany missionary service. I really like my kids.

I like taking Wedding Photos for Friends. I happened to chat with a long-time knitting student in class one day and she mentioned her grandson's upcoming wedding, and that they wanted it to be small and not cost a lot. I mentioned that I would be interested in taking the photos and what do you know? I got to do it. What an awesome day. They got married at the courthouse in Annapolis, MD, which downtown maintains a very beautiful historic sensibility. They got ready and had their reception at a historic tavern right next door and everything was just beautiful. I loved being here with them and being able to document their lovely day.

It's good to be flexible. I spent a fair amount of my time and the church's funds to prepare for 4 hours of activities at a youth retreat called Pioneer Trek. It reenacts the 1856 handcart journey of the Mormon Pioneers from Iowa to Utah. The kids dress up and pull actual reproduction handcarts and have a grand time interspersed with some real challenges. On the day when we were supposed to have our 4 hours of workshops, which included cooking fry bread and buffalo meat over coals; making leather bracelets; washing hair; playing pioneer games; and playing with a pet lamb; the schedule was behind, the weather was fitful, and in the end, we needed to get 140 kids through 3 workshops in about 90 minutes instead of 5 workshops in the originally planned 4 hours. Yeah baby! If you have good plans, you can make things work in any situation, and I was proud of how we (my amazing committee and I) were able to retool on the fly and make a good experience for the youth.  You can see from the pictures (all courtesy of my genius friend Lancer Seaman) that the kids had fun doing what we were able to do, and the objectives of the workshops were met. I am glad that I could help and I am grateful for the other women and men who supported me and did their jobs with grace and flexibility as well. I loved being at the Trek site and more specifically amongst these amazing young people. They get on board with this stuff that we leaders plan for them, and the results are always magnified far beyond what we are able to originally envision.

And here are a few more pics of Evan's experience on the trek. You can't actually fake smiles like this and having a good time when it comes to teens, so this really was a phenomenal experience for these kids. my chance to play even a small role was most appreciated. (These photos are also from the multi-talented Lancer Seaman.) 

And June is remembered. Onto to the rest of the day. Then July awaits. 

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Sam Comes Home

As promised, here is the first installment in my retroactive recount of the last three months of Absolute Crazy:

The Odyssey Known as Summer 2013 got started on a wonderful high note June 4th when Sam got home from his mission to Anaheim, California. He was a hardworking and humble missionary, and I know that he did a lot of good among the fine folks in SoCal. He loved those good people with all his heart, and he loved the other missionaries with whom he served. It had been 2 years since we last saw him, so it was a pretty amazing homecoming. It is a very particular, intense joy that I feel at these times when I've welcomed my boys home from giving everything they have to a cause that is so important to them.

Adding to my joy was the presence of both Jeff and Ashlyn, who came on their dime all the way from Utah to be there for Sam's moment. We also were able to bring my nephew Josh out as well. He and Sam  are close in age and are good friends. It was so good to have them all home and have a full house again.

On the day he was coming in, there were the 5 of us at the house plus Eric at work all trying to meet up at Reagan National Airport right in the middle of rush hour. His flight was showing a slightly early arrival, and though we'd left when I wanted to, traffic was even worse than I anticipated. I started to really worry that we would miss Sam's first moments off the plane and was berating myself for not leaving 30 minutes earlier.

Of course that was a useful exercise.

Not.

I settled down and pretended that if our first reunion was at the luggage carousel, that would be okay.

We pressed on with clenched teeth through the heavy city traffic (In Space Balls, Ludicrous Speed is going really fast. Instead, we were at the other end of Ludicrous and going so slow it was painful in the face of what was at stake). When the GPS got us lost at one point, I started to fail in my charade that it was all going to be okay. I really, really, really, REALLY wanted to greet him at the gate. I'm a pretty relaxed mom and pride myself on my independent kids, but this was TWO YEARS for pete's sake. Give me my mommy moment!! As brave and chipper as I was trying to be on the surface, my heart was breaking at the thought of Sam walking out of security and not seeing me there.

But it wasn't looking good.

Eventually, we got parked and did not just run, we sprinted through the airport with everything we had and reached the security gate maybe 90 seconds before we first caught sight of Sam coming around the corner with anther missionary. Talk about the nick of time! I was so relieved. Of course it was a joyful moment with our dear friend Laurrel and her kids there as well. I still well up with happy tears as I think of it.

One unexpected sweetness of that day that I especially want to remember is this: Throughout all of this anxiousness of getting to the airport, my daughter-in-law was a true heroine. (Can I just say that I wish so much that there was a better name for my son's wife? She is just so much more special than the very technical name Daughter-in-law would indicate. Just saying.)  During the Horrible Drive, she kept up a constant commentary to convince me that we had plenty of time (she did not let on that his flight was even earlier than I thought), and that I should park and we should all go in together, and in general took over leading the group so I could concentrate and was the key to us staying focused on our goal and RUNNING through that dang airport. My love for her grew in a very special way in those moments. A way that only comes through shared experiences like that. She perfectly complemented my weakness in a key moment and I felt grateful anew that she is part of our family.

Here are some photos (all courtesy of the heroic Ashlyn):

Our first glimpse. 

That awesome moment!

And Eric's awesome moment. 

Sam takes it all in. 

His companion for the flight home, another missionary he served with who lives in VA. 

With Josh

3 Brothers, probably on the phone with the 4th. 

Talking to my parents and Johnathan. 

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A Strange View

Sometimes I have so much to write about and so many other things to do that I get hopelessly behind, as I am now. So, I'm going to begin where I am and add in posts about the past weeks as I get photos organized and ideas captured.

One big thing that has happened to me is that my eyes have changed. I don't know if it's just the impending 47 in a few days or something else, but in spite of a new prescription for my glasses, attempts to change the lighting and positioning of my screens when I use them, and a LOT of muttering and complaining, I can only work comfortably in front of a screen or even read or knit for very short minutes at a time, then everything goes double. Everywhere. Yes, I am going to check in with an ophthalmologist, but in the meantime, all my screen time has been saved for work. And I've had work aplenty. With more to come. Which is a blessing.

But I miss my old eyes. Or my young ones, to be more precise. The ones before. You know what I mean.

So, here is Summer '13, briefly, through my new eyes. The ones that are now acting old. Because already I need to stop and look away.

• Sam came home from California. 
• Sara finally received her mission call. (I did already write about that, but it happened here in the timeline.)
• I helped out at Pioneer Trek, a youth retreat that reenacts the journey of the Mormon Pioneers. 
• I went on a fabulous trip west to see family. 
• I stopped in AZ for my parents' 50th anniversary party. 
• I went to San Diego with Eric and all of our kids. 
• I went back to AZ to spend some days with my folks. 
• I came home for 4 days. 
• I went to Girls' Camp. 
• I came home for 9 days. 
• I went to Chicago. 
• I'm now home for 5 days. 
• I will leave on Saturday to take Sam out to school and bring Sara home. 

Stay tuned, my 6 dear readers. I'll be back to catch up. 

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The Call to Serve

I haven't written about Sam coming home yet. I haven't written about all the fun things I'm doing right now, which is a LOT, but for the moment I'm going to write about this, then I'll get back to my regularly scheduled life, because I've been waiting for this for about 6 weeks, and now I feel like I'm over a fence that had me kind of going in circles. Time to move on.

Sometime in the middle to late part of May, my daughter submitted her application to be a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Usually a call to serve is received by the applicant about 2 or 3 weeks later. So we started waiting excitedly for that day to come.

2 weeks came and went. We were still within range. No worries, though it would have been awesome for it to come while I was there in Utah. No luck.

3 weeks passed. The anticipation grew, but her status had changed to "Call Issued," so now all we had to wait for was the vagaries of the US mail, right?

4 weeks passed. Just about every night, there was a text convo around 7pm when she checked her mail, and we would all chime in with encouragement, consternation and predictions about where she would go. It became something of a nightly ritual for our family.

Then about 10 days ago, something big happened. Evan went out to check the mail on Friday afternoon the 14th of June and came blasting through the door like a cuter, blonder Kramer and shouted, "I think we got Sara's mission call!!!!" He handed me a large white envelope with a Salt Lake address on it. Hmmm.

We noticed though, that it was from Travel Services, not the Missionary Department. That was significant. It meant she had travel arrangements to make, except we didn't yet know where she was going. We needed information. Sara wanted me to open the big white envelope, but as soon as we opened it, we realized it had specific info in it, and we didn't want to leak info that Sara might not want before the big reveal, so we shoved it all back in the envelope with only a few clues.

We now knew she would be going to a foreign country. Some of us knew which one.
We knew that she would need a tricky visa.
We knew when she would be leaving.

AAAAAAHHHHHHGGGG!
Evan especially felt the burden of knowing these bits of information, but we determined we would not tell Sara so she could be entirely surprised when her call did come.

Sam called Travel Services and we discovered that her call had been sent on June 4, and they send out travel info about a week later! What?? She never received it, so they checked her file........No apartment number. The mystery was solved. Okay, now a problem that could be worked. No worries. We were transferred to another department to fix that problem but no one answered.

The excitement mounted and there were groans of..."Can this happen any more slowly?"-when Eric finally got in touch with the person who could help and they changed her address but said that nothing could be done till Tuesday the 18th. We would have to call back then.

That day dawned overcast and expectant, and when Eric got through to Salt Lake, they said they would try to print a new call and mail it that day or Wednesday. Relief set in. The waiting would be over soon. Surely by Thursday or Friday all would be revealed.

But no. Thursday-nothing. Friday-no call. Saturday-still nothing. When we called to check the status, all indications were that nothing had happened on Tuesday or Wednesday. The last note in her file was the conversation on the 14th in which they fixed her address and told us to call back. Sighing ensued.

Then another big thing happened. We were having a party for some kids at our house on Saturday night the 22nd. A big sister of one of the kids came in to pick people up. Her brother said she wasn't going to come in, but there she was. She is a good friend of mine from lots of youth activities, and she is going on a mission herself very soon. She joyfully congratulated me on Sara's call to _________, and I blurted out, "But Sara doesn't have her call yet!" My friend was taken aback and I'm sure felt bad, but it turns out she was the hero of the day, because she said something really insightful that caused my brain to kick into gear and I realized that her dad, our Stake President (an ecclesiastical position in our church) would have gotten notified about Sara's call and since he gets those notifications after the call is issued, it never occurred to him it was not common knowledge yet. AHA!

After a quick email to the Stake President at 11pm and his equally quick reply (bless him for being a night owl), we knew what we needed to know and Sara decided to announce so that we could start planning for real and so that she could be the one to share the news instead of hearing it backward through other people. It needed to happen now for that very important reason.

So, at 12:20 am eastern time on June 23rd, 2013, we convened a crazy, middle of the night skype meeting over the internet, conferenced in a couple of aunts and grandparents, and this happened:




So yes, my girl is going far away to the Brazil Curitiba South Mission for 18 months. I'm so thrilled and excited for her. I'll write more about that later. This just needed to be captured for my own sake. Thanks for reading and sharing our excitement!

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My kids

I spent the weekend in Utah visiting my kids who live out there. It was filled with some fun activities, many good meals together, laughter, talking and general good times.

It's nearly surreal to watch your children be grown-ups, yet at the same time it feels completely natural, and I love the way our relationships have naturally evolved into adult mode. I honestly enjoy being around them and thrill to the good, sensible decisions they are making. I like that they are exploring new things. Things I never exposed them to. That means they are still curious and are not dependent on me to get all their information about the world. That makes me happy.

It's a lovely time to be a mom.

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Tending Other Gardens

Last year, the scouts were gathering at my house to leave for a week-long camping trip. As we were standing around waiting, the leader, a man I greatly respect and genuinely like, and who is incredibly accomplished and knowledgable in many subjects, asked about a plant growing in my garden.

There is nothing like suddenly seeing something familiar through an outsider's eyes. Oh my poor garden. Rather than just say, "It's called Lamb's Ear," and move on,  I instantly became very self-conscious about the state of my yard. It was out of control with weeds, plants needed dividing, edgings were untidy and it had, in my eyes, a decidedly unkempt look, rather than the careless elegance of an English cottage garden I liked to imagine. Ha. I was mortified.

As is my way sometimes (what am I saying? It's my way every time!!), I immediately began making excuses about how springtime is always the busiest time for the kids in school and then usually I'm involved with church camps and youth conferences in late spring/early summer, so my garden is always more neglected than I would like. I was getting more and more embarrassed by the minute.

He looked at me kindly and said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, "So, what you're saying is that you were tending other gardens." 

His simple comment stopped my stumbling apology for my ragged garden in mid-sentence. He had seen my life for what it really was and summed it up in one soul-warming observation.

In the time since, almost a year now, that moment and his words have become treasures to my soul. I write about it now because I constantly thought of it yesterday as I considered how to conduct my day. I've been really busy lately, keeping my schedule as open as possible to help the missionaries, working on several deadlines for work, and trying to get ready for Sam to come home in a couple of weeks. A beloved friend was in town this week and we spent time together. The house was untidy and a bit neglected, my schedule was packed, and I was feeling a bit anxious and stressed.

In spite of that, all day long I decided to choose people and relationships over things and appearances. It was hard. Here is what was on my list that did NOT get done yesterday

• Vacuum. 
• Get the chipped polish off my toenails
• Repaint toenails
• Cook a meal for the missionaries
• Make the bed
• Unload the dishwasher
• Work on the new flower bed I'm designing in the front yard
• Clean the bathroom 
• Clean my office
• Pay bills
• Go buy a lovely card and gift for a newly married couple
• and probably about 6 other things that could be classified as important

So, I was mocked all day by my dirty house, my annoying toenails, dustbunnies that were threatening revolt, bare dirt in the front yard, piles of papers, and a messy bedroom. Sigh. 

But I have to tell you that my friend's wisdom came into my mind over and over again yesterday, the day before Mother's Day, the Great Holiday of Mixed Emotions, and I decided to tell my mind to cease and desist so I could tend the gardens that were most important, even though the results would NOT be worthy of anyone's putting them on Pinterest. So, here is what I DID do yesterday: 

• Participated in the Girls On the Run of Central MD 5K and reveled, (yes reveled I tell you-it was glorious!) in the joyful smiles of the girls I've helped coach toward this day
• Ran with two treasured friends
• Dashed & Stashed enough of the clutter to set the table and make a pretty salad for my young friend who SOUGHT ME OUT to have lunch with her. I almost called her back and said no, I just can't do it today, but what a delightful hour that was. It would have been a terrible mistake on my part to waste that moment with her. 
• Hugged a bride whom I've known for most of her life
• Hugged a few other not-often seen pals at the reception
• Spent 10 sweet minutes with an old friend AND got to see some of my photo work on display in her home-it was bringing joy, which reminded me of what I love about being a photographer (sometimes I want to give that up, too, because I think I don't measure up. To what? Not sure, but you know how that goes). 
• Made it out alive from Costco on a Saturday afternoon with enough food for two dinners that will not cause anyone any extra work. 
• Enjoyed some of that food and some wonderful conversation with those missionaries I love so much and our elderly guest who would otherwise have been eating alone. 

So there you go. The tasks in the first list are important, and I actually got around to a few of them late in the evening, or at least enough to keep the deadliest bacteria and the scariest dust bunnies at bay. Mostly though, I'm grateful I get to remember these scenes from yesterday and earlier in the week. 

This really, really is what matters most, and I know that, and I usually choose that better part (even if it is with an elevated heart rate) but I worry all the time that the untended gardens actually will count against me someday. Luckily, when I look at these photos, my heart slows down and I know once again that I've taken care of what's truly most important. 

My darling friend. She soothes my soul. 

The most beautifully prepared dinner I've
had in a very long time

We managed to get locked inside Piney Run park for two
hours on Friday night during a thunderstorm. It's the reason I
was so behind on Saturday morning, but Oh the hilarity
that two 45-ish year-old teenagers can have with that situation!
I wouldn't have missed it for the world!

Me and my precious pal. 

My dear friend and our surprisingly pretty lunch. Not bad for
15 minutes of preparation. 

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Changes Afoot

I'm renovating my blog. Stay tuned. Soon the url will lose the .blogspot, and I'm trying out new templates.

I'm also playing around with new names so that my blog can reflect all the things I'm interested in and be an easy place to find my family adventures, my photography, my knitting, my protracted ramblings, my transition to the empty nest, etc.

Thanks for your patience. All 6 of you. I love you from the bottom of my heart.

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Close To My Heart

In my church, everyone is an active participant in the actual organization. Unless you choose not to, if you come to church even semi-regularly, you'll have a job to do, either something specific on Sundays, during the week at auxiliary activities (Youth and kids) or else something general that you do to support other people. It's hard to be a passive Mormon, and that's good. We refer to these assignments as callings because we feel that our local leaders are inspired through prayer to know who should fill a particular assignment. It's a good feeling to know that you're needed, whether as the designer and printer of the Sunday program, the teacher of a class of 6 year olds, or the Bishop (lay pastor) of the congregation. All the positions are filled from the general membership. No one is paid, and no one can campaign for or get elected to a position, so there is a kind of equality. Your congregational leader might be the guy who fixes your air conditioner or the president of a Fortune 500 company. There is no differentiation in church service. There is no actual prestige attached to more visible callings, only more of a time commitment and different responsibilities.

This video explains my motivation for always accepting these assignments, even if they require time and effort on top of all else that I'm involved in.


For most of my life, I've worked with the children and youth, except for a couple of brief interludes doing other things.
But now...drum roll please....I'm a Ward Missionary.

Yes, my assignment, or calling, has changed. It is a bittersweet thing to end one calling and begin a new one, for lots of reasons. I have a feeling inside that is part sadness that I won't be working directly with the girls and women with whom I've had close association for several years, and part excitement to be working with the fine young men and women who are serving missions in our area. I won't be working with youth, which will feel strange and a bit lonesome at first, but I will get to do similar things to what my son in California is doing and my daughter will soon be doing.

My assignment is to find those who would be interested in talking to our full-time missionaries and learning more about the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. That's the main goal. Finding those who are interested or who have felt led to spiritual seeking means I have to meet people, set a good example, and be willing to talk to just about anyone. I'll also act as a general support to the full-time missionaries that serve in our congregation as well as befriend and support those who have recently joined the church.

If you're a friend of mine not of my faith, don't worry. Hopefully I won't really change my behavior at all. Hopefully you already know that I love you no matter what and would never force my faith on you, but instead will continue to try to be a good friend and stand ready to answer any question you might have, even the hard ones. If you're not interested, that's okay, but I want you know that the truth is out there if you want to investigate.

I'll miss the girls I worked with. Much more than they'll miss me, for sure. They'll hardly know I'm gone and I don't say that out of self-pity. I was a helper, not a focus. A shining beauty of the lay ministry of our church is that no one really has ownership of a method or program. It's all focused outward, on trying to build and help each other. So, the program I just left will continue on, with barely a blip, and the girls will find helpers in their new leaders. The other gal who was released along with me mentioned this-that we're the ones with the big hole left in our lives (I would say I spent anywhere from 5-15 hours a week on this assignment, depending on the intensity of the various activities). Fortunately I've always got plenty of adventures, both new and old, to fill my time. Hopefully the lovely girls I worked with will know, most of all, that they're loved and that there are grownups who care enough to work hard on their behalf. Then hopefully that feeling will confirm the feelings they have that they're loved by God and that He cares about them. If you operate on that basic feeling, it's a lot easier to stay anchored in this crazy world.

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My Adrenal System is Fine

Sometimes you get a call from your son at 6:03 am and you hear the beep of an open car door but no voice on the other end. You yell into the receiver and hear nothing, then the line goes dead. Panic rises in your throat, but you hope like crazy that he pocket-dialed you getting out of the car for seminary. You keep breathing.

But then sometimes another call comes at 6:04 and you hear the shaking voice of your boy say "Mom, I crashed the car." And you tell him you'll be right there. Adrenaline rushes into your bloodstream and you go into a kind of hyper-focused mode that compartmentalizes all other possibilities to the back parts of your brain.

You put on shoes and a sweater and remember your wallet and phone. You get in the car to drive away and realize it's completely coated in ice so you have to get out and take another 5 minutes to find some clear glass. You can't stand it after about a square foot of the front windshield is done and you toss the scraper in the car and go. As you drive away you plead for the Lord to clear your path so you can just get to your boy.

He calls again and says he's fine, but the adrenaline reaction is fully in play, so you keep racing down the hill and look everywhere for him among all the headlights you see. Finally you spot his tiny car, up against a guard rail and dug into the snow and mud. He's turned around and on the opposite side of the road that he was originally travelling.

He comes to you and you hold him in your arms and the compartmentalization fails slightly so you hope you're coming across as strong and calm for his sake, in spite of the now-jellied state of your heart and mind. He's shaken and miserable, but whole and healthy.

He really is. Totally uninjured. No air bags deployed, no serious damage to the car, just a terrifying loss of control, then a 360 across all lanes of of the road on a dark, icy morning. I actually know how that feels. Thanks to the early hour, there was no traffic and he did not hit anyone else. The car has little more than the plastic version of bumps and bruises. Thanks to my husband joining AAA last fall, the tow truck was there in minutes and popped the car out of it's muddy hole. Thanks be to God, as the darling driver reminded me with reverent awe, my son is okay.

We drove home and said a tearful prayer of gratitude together.

It's a minor thing, and will have few residual effects, but the mind is stubborn, at least for these few hours of aftermath. We are both reliving it now; he in his actual memory, I in my imagination. All those thoughts of what could have been are enough to sap my energy and keep me in a state of strange distraction. This has happened before with other kids and with my husband, and the feelings have been just as intense each time.

I'm shaky and weepy and can't think straight, but I have stuff to do, so I am writing this down and letting it go so I can get on with the rest of the day and continue to be strong and calm when he gets home.

Then I have to help him get back on the horse, so to speak. I can't let my shaky nerves or his hold him back-he needs to drive again as soon as possible and know that he's capable of moving past this.

Worse things can and probably will happen, but not to us and not on this day, so I will end with another whispered thank you to the heavens.

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Late Winter

I'm getting excited for the proper beginning of spring. I went outside yesterday to jump on the trampoline (more fun and less impact than running) and got a bit of a start on the yarn clean-up that needs to happen in the next week or so. Soon it will be time to plant things and start moving things around. 

I think being out in the light and air more and more will help me feel better. I've been fighting some faint infection for a week or so that makes me very tired and run a bit of a fever most days. It's not enough to give me an excuse to plant myself on the couch, but it is persistant enough to be extremely annoying. 

In the spirit of that physical slowness, I've taken a bit of a hiatus from electronic communication. For as little as I perceive that I use Facebook, it is often the first thing I think of doing when I open up my computer. This week I turned it off in support of Evan as he did the same thing. He'll write about it as a way to understand a bit about the Transcendentalists, like Emerson and Thoreau. I did it out of curiosity. Without Facebook as an option, it was fascinating to have that beat to consider what I really opened my computer for in the first place, and go straight to Lightroom or Indexing or briefly peek at my email then LOG OFF of google, so there were no little growly banners fading in and out of my right hand corner. I also, without much forethought, ended up cutting way down on texting. I just lost that need to read and respond immediately. I was slow to answer texts when they came and I did not feel the need to have my phone at my fingertips every minute. 

Not unexpectedly, I both liked and feared this arrangement. I (rather paradoxically, even I admit) enjoy not knowing too much about others/not being known too much by others as much as I enjoy revealing the little bits of myself that I do reveal online. And with certain friends, Facebook actually is a primary way of interacting, for better or worse. In the final analysis though, I liked being free of the beeps and sounds and buzzes that usually bring me running. 

I took this picture while riding in the car and did NOT
immediately broadcast it on instagram. Hopefully some
of the people who might have looked at their screens at that
moment were actually looking at the sky or
taking their own photos and didn't need an
alert to know the sunset was lovely. 

So, it has been a quiet week; a slow week; quite in keeping with all the napping and achy joints. It was not, however, a lonely or isolated week. I've seen the people I wanted to see, done the things I wanted to do, and have been very productive overall. It's a good reminder to continuously figure out a happy medium between feeling ruled by the always-increasing ability to communicate instantaneously with the world and choosing just how much and how often to connect. 

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