For Mary Elizabeth

Tonight I received a phone call that I knew would come someday. But it didn't stop the sting and mix of emotions when it finally did come. My Dad's tearful voice on the other end of the line let me know that my Nana had passed away.

Part of me was in disbelief at first because I had just been talking to Justin about her, around the time my Dad said she actually passed. I was talking about how I wanted to see her. She and my Aunt Jody, who has so lovingly taken care of her, have been on my mind the past week. I was wondering how long she would have to remain in her infirmed state. It has been three years since her life-changing stroke and I wanted for her to be whole again.

My first reaction to the news was relief for my Nana. I had been thinking about how frail she has gotten and how hard every little daily task is for her. When I heard she passed, I imagined in my mind's eye her walking through the veil of this life and into the next. I imagined her body and mind being restored. I imagined her being welcomed by all those who had passed before her. And I was happy for her.

Then over the line I heard my own mother say "I am happy for her." and then her voice cracked as she continued "But she is my mother." In that moment my heart broke as I thought of my own mom and how this must feel. I immediately thought of how devastated I will be when that day comes when I have to say goodbye to her. My relief turned to sadness as the realization of the situation settled on me.

Through the mix of emotions though, I find myself so grateful for the life of my Nana. Her walk was not always easy, but she endured. She has taught me to endure and I am grateful for the legacy that she forged for me. After her stroke three years ago, as we sat in her hospital room, she kept talking about the light. She had lost almost all her verbal skills and yet she kept persisting about The Light. She saw a light. She was ready to go to it. She was prepared to meet her God. When she realized it wasn't her time she was upset, because she was so ready. But her work wasn't done.

Now, in retrospect, I am able to see the purpose of her staying. Of what a little, fragile, white-haired, mostly non-verbal woman was able to accomplish in her remaining years on Earth. And I am yet again amazed at God's goodness and plan for each and every one of us.

I feel a peace, as I sit here and type, that my Nana fulfilled her purpose and it was her time to rest from this mortal state. I will miss her so very much. The softness of her skin. The feel of her manicured nails as they softly scratched your back. I will miss the way she always coiffed her hair and sucked in her cheeks for pictures. I will cherish memories of her annual visits every Christmas as a child. I will cherish the memory of her standing outside her little house on Northview waving as we would pull away after a visit. I will miss and cherish the letters and cards I would find in my mailbox in her perfect, cursive handwriting. I will miss so much about the small but amazing woman I named my firstborn after. She truly touched my life.

I am grateful to my core for the knowledge I have that families are forever. I feel so much peace at knowing that this parting is but temporary. I find myself with even greater resolve to live my life according to God's plan, so that someday I can meet with her again.

Meatloaf Beatloaf

If the kids hadn't been at the table I probably would have turned into Randy from 'A Christmas Story' and started whining and chucking it around my plate.

Just for the record, I made the sickest meatloaf ever last night. And I don't mean sick in a good way like "Ah man, that meatloaf was sick!" It literally was sick. Disgusting. I spit it out in my napkin. Which was sad because I found the recipe on a site that is usually pretty good to me. This time...not so much.

You want to know the funnier part? My children loved it. Yes, those same children who hassle me practically every night about how much they hate this or that. They loved the sick-o meatloaf. In fact, they ate up theirs and then asked if they could eat mine up too. Go figure.

Thoughts on Sister Hinckley

“I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully, tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails. I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp. I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbors children. I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone's garden. I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder. I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived.”
-Marjorie Pay Hinckley

The first time I read this quote I was in my mid-twenties. I thought it was a lovely sentiment, but I remembered thinking "I don't know... I wouldn't mind a good manicure and some good looking clothes and a nice car. And being okay with sticky on you? Can't I be a good person and not want sticky on my shirt?"

The long and short of it was, I didn't get it. Of course there is nothing wrong with a good manicure. But what I failed to grasp five or six years ago was the feeling that when you lose yourself in living life, specifically a life in service to God and others, all those other things become peripheral. I failed to understand that you find more joy in helping others than you ever could in solely taking care of yourself.

I just love every bit of the way Sister Hinckley worded that. It gives me a feeling of peace that yes, my van may at times look like a rolling garbage can. Yes, my laundry pile may never be completely conquered. Yes, I may wear the same pants three days in a row...but fulfillment isn't just found in the things the eye can see.

I am okay if some things get put aside so that I can write a family member, or watch a friend's child, or make a pot of soup for someone you care about who is sick or whatever it is. Those are the things that matter. Not a vision of perfection, but the reality of solid relationships. The reality of knowing that this one life we have to live was spent in the ways that really matter.

Grateful Heart

I woke up this morning cocooned in warm blankets that protected against the nip in the morning air. I could hear the older girls playing happily upstairs in the playroom. I got up and walked into Devyn and Lauryn's room and was greeted by ear-to-ear grins and happy, little voices. I came downstairs and was welcomed with a smile from my husband and music filling the airspace around the breakfast table. As Devyn and I munched on our granola, she kept grinning at me and patting my shoulder. I LOVE it when she pats my shoulder! Brynna ran downstairs to give me a squeeze before she was off to play again. After finishing breakfast, I was off to go upstairs to get showered so I can meet up with my friend Laura this morning...and then I stopped and felt the moment. I said a prayer in my heart thanking my Father in Heaven for my life and for the many, many good things in it.

When I was in my twenties I thought that true happiness or contentment would finally be achieved when we had a beautiful home filled with nice things, new cars and could afford to go wonderful places. I thought happiness was never having conflict. I thought happiness was when the Lord blessed you with the things you wanted right away....

Happiness, and I had to take a moment to record this so that my children know, isn't any of those things. Happiness resides in a home, regardless of size or furnishing, where there is respect and love. Happiness is knowing that even if your van has 118,000 miles on it, it is paid for and starts each time you load your kids into it. Happiness is knowing that you and the people you care about can survive tough times and live to love stronger and more earnestly the next day. Happiness is knowing that God loves you so much, that He knows what plan is right for you. Even if it means you have to wait and even if it means you have to work for it. Happiness is knowing that out of all the places in the world you could be, nothing compares to sharing a couch and staying in with a husband and children who love you with all the generosity hearts can hold. Happiness is having friends that you don't have to put on any pretenses for. Ones that love you like family and you know would do anything for you.

I have all these things.

My life is simple. But I want my children to know that I consider myself one of the most blessed women alive. Because I have everything that really matters. I have everything in life that I need. I think when we cultivate a genuine thankfulness for every need that has been met, our wants for the frivolous dwindle. Because we realize what is really important, what really matters and we find contentment and joy in those things. I know I have. I know that my life is blessed, beyond measure.

Penn State

Today I got red-hot, steaming mad as the situation unfolded at Penn State. For those of you who haven't heard, one of assistant staff members of the Penn State Football team was caught in the act, almost a decade ago, raping a 10-year-old in the locker room showers. It wasn't his only victim. NOTHING was done to stop this monster by the person who saw the act, other than telling his superior who then passed the buck to someone else. Nothing was reported to the authorities and they sat by, actionless, while this evil person continued 'mentoring' children through his underprivileged youth organization.

Have you ever had a disgust that you couldn't describe? I was there. Where you think of the children in your life and you know that if someone EVER did that to your kids, you're afraid of the place of rage you could go to. Where you know you would have to stop yourself, but all you would want to do is...

What's even more disgusting is that these kids didn't have an easy life, even prior to the abuse. They needed a place to turn. A person to trust. Someone to help them get a break. What they got was a wolf in sheep's clothing. What they got was wounds that many find hard to heal after a lifetime of trying. It just makes me so sick. This bastard that did it wrote and autobiography about himself detailing his life as a mentor of youth. You want to know what the title of that book is? "Touched." Let's talk again about the rage you fear you couldn't control....

What has been almost as disturbing as the reports of abuse themselves, is the amount of people that have defended those who brushed these heinous acts under the rug. For almost a decade after the discovery of that awful act, they allowed this man to walk free among children without calling the authorities. And yet riots have broken out and people have become so incensed that the university would hold those people, who allowed this to continue, accountable for their actions. People love their football and their coaches and their 'legacy' more than they care about human lives.

The whole thing leaves me sickened beyond description.

Going Flying

You can't see them, but Lauryn, Brynna and Maryn are all in this little plane! They had so much fun!

I am really not one for irrational fears, but the thought of flying in a little airplane makes me kind of nervous. Between Justin and I we have known 3 people who have died in small airplane crashes. Kind of a reason to be nervous if you ask me. Tonight though my friend Laura called me up and said that her husband Nick, who is an Aeronautical Engineer and pilot, had a plane and to come out and go flying with them. Justin had already committed to go watch football with a friend. So I loaded up the girls and we drove up to the little Cherokee County airport. Nick took turns giving everyone rides while we sat around a fire and cooked hot dogs. It was chilly and brisk, but fun to be out bundled up and enjoying the Fall evening.

Maryn was nervous at first about going. I told her she didn't have to go if she didn't want to. But when the question came "Alright, who's going next?!" Maryn, Brynna and Lauryn all stepped up to the plate! I watched them take off as I held Devy, knowing they were in good hands with Nick, but still hoping they would be safe and sound. When the girls came back from their turn they jumped out of their seats, raving about how awesome it was! How fun it was to talk into the microphone on the headset! How the cars looked like little toy cars! How they flew over Wal-Mart! By the last flight, after all the kids had had their turns, the kids had me convinced I needed to take a turn too. So I swallowed my nervousness and hopped into the cockpit and rode shotgun.

I must say it was so much fun!! Flying over Canton at night, seeing all the familiar places from such a different view. It was fun to hear Nick explain some of the technical stuff. And the landing was way smoother that any commercial flight I have ever been on! It was just a great time all around. I was really grateful I got to try something new and have such a great time with friends tonight!

Advice #1

As a mom, there is always a ton of advice that flies through my head, but I don't always have time to articulate it. So for my daughters I am writing it down. Some advice may be serious, or silly or just plain common sense but I am going to share what I can every now and then as it comes to me, in no particular order... Girls, you get half of your DNA from me, which means you have also been blessed with that whitey-white girl skin. I hope you can embrace it. But I will understand if the yearning for sun-kissed skin eventually hits you someday. But please, in your pursuit for sun-kissedness don't ever tan or lay out in the sun to the point of being orange or making your features indiscernible. (You know what I am talking about, where all you see is teeth and gobs of mascara and the rest just blends in to one monochromatic, unnatural shade of oompa-loompa.) It's just not a good look.

Love,

Mom

Today...

*Maryn helped clean up like nobody's business and didn't complain once!
*Brynna read me a funny story she wrote about a vampire that eats all the candy instead of giving it to Trick-or-Treaters.
*Lauryn was her usual moody/hilarious/bossy/delightful self.
*Devyn smiled and her whole face lit up she she saw her Daddy.