Category: Adventurous kids

Stream of Consciousness

After a blustery night and as I enter a gray-brown day, I see winter-swept scenery through bare branches. I have some projects with fabric once the floors dry and I finish dusting. I need to do some clothing alterations. After that, I hope for easier weather when I have to carry my sewing machine to a friend’s house for quilt work with friends who will probably be dressed in gray sweaters. Sometimes the howl of the wind thinks it will remind me it is winter, but I need no reminders. The steely light permeates every corner of the house, a reminder that the sunlight is there, but has traveled through miles of clouds to reach us. Today, we just get the leftovers of sunshine. The views are bleak, but the snowflakes on my window help.

Even my church assignment (I still do not feel it is a “calling”) is about the dead. Shoulders hunched and eyes focused on computer screens, I study clues from handwriting of those long gone. I sit among people 20-30 years older than I am in research classes and feel young! Woot! I have never felt so isolated, but I anticipate connection with living people will be possible in this work, eventually. I am entering my fifth month away from church assignments involving people who breathe. My temple and family history assignment still is not defined, and I wait. It’s a busy kind of waiting, as I have so much to learn. I am giving many hours a week to a work that feels absolutely invisible, kind of like housework. Ha!

My assigned ministering route was changed and not a single woman wants me in her home. Some have had it with churchy things. Another just needs to get out of the house rather than have a visit. She helped me make the snowflakes on my window as we talked this week. I count it an act of trust when I get a text from one asking me to give her son a ride home from school. Discipleship and ministry are among the indefinable things.

I gift myself one day of study a week. In these books, I lose myself to a degree that I call indulgence. Church prophets have often told women they are needed and important, but now I feel I have been given a task to prove it. I have come to understand that my New Testament knowledge, gleaned over years and years, is needed in my family. I still apologize and feel insecurity when I let myself be seen by my family for who I am: a scripture nerd. I spend time coming up with activities that will allow my sons to come to love the New Testament as I do. It takes all my self-control not to spill out what I have learned and what I feel, and what the Jews did, and what the landscape is like, and what a different translation teaches, and literary techniques of Gospel writers, and, and, and, and…Mary kept these things and pondered them in her heart. In a house full of men who do not enjoy conversation, I do a lot of pondering.

A few weeks ago I realized that Tim and Mark have seen very few plays, so I bought tickets to The Wizard of Oz at Hale Center Theater for later today. This will be a good start to a four-day weekend for them, and we are all ready for it. There was a bomb threat at Tim’s school this week and half the student body stayed home on Wednesday. This week I have learned that I need to get used to my children being in mortal peril. Let’s celebrate by watching Dorothy get swept away by a tornado and flying monkeys!

Some good memories from December

We visited Temple Square on one of the warmest December nights we have known. We were able to listen to the Nativity narration outdoors and noticed for the first time that there is a star mounted on top of the Tabernacle. We had just fed the missionaries dinner before we came, and their message was to “Look up!” Amen.
Timothy and I played a medley of German Christmas carols at church and for family. He is a great pianist and accompanist.
Timothy got his license.
We had a birthday party for Tim and my parents came.
Mark made raspberry jam for his dad’s Christmas present. 😍
I shopped for stuffed animals. The giraffe!
Christmas morning fun

We were able to do a video call with Daniel and we didn’t need all of those questions we planned to ask. He talked non-stop, with enthusiasm, zeal, and happiness pouring forth. I didn’t know how much I needed to just see him and hear him speak. I didn’t take a picture of the screen, but imagine light, clothed in the Christmas tie that I was told he probably wouldn’t receive in the mail, a short haircut, sunburned neck, and speaking a mixture of Spanish and English, really fast. That was Daniel. Nothing sad about that.

Paige is with us, and moves from her room, where she is catching up on some reading, to the piano, every few hours throughout the day. Chopin, Debussy, and Jane Austen scores are now in the mix played on our piano. She is all things lovely.

The Season of Expectation

These pictures are my favorites from the week. We had a lovely time hearing Tim’s concerts and doing Christmas things.

At the beginning of the week, instead of filling my to do lists, I purposely left big gaps for rest. I was a little bit successful, considering it is the season of expectation. I find that Richard and the boys are clinging to traditions a little more this year. “When are we going to bake…,” and, “What Christmas movie will we watch tonight?” Maybe it helps fill in the holes in our family.

Spring Lake Thanksgiving


New rock walls under rain showed their deeper colors and cleaner surfaces, and with a backdrop of new spruce trees and freshly gathered leaves, vintage decor reminded us of loved ones now gone. Little feet ran to familiar haunts as small hands appeared from below, reaching for good bites to eat. Men discussed the carving of the birds as women finished whipping potatoes and set out fruit and rolls. A cousin confessed she had been looking forward to eating this pie for weeks. Quiet readers emerged from the corners to fill plates before retreating again, and tween cousins, too full after appetizers, chose the smallest portions. Each in turn, we named something we are thankful for. I heard myself say with a cheer and hands held high, “I am thankful for a missionary!” There were quiet declarations and strong, and all were sincere. And just like that, the meal was over, the many hours of labor, consumed in minutes. This year, we didn’t wait to serve the pies.

While parents slept, Grandma gathered children for gingerbread house decorating. And the Christmas season began.

Dark so early, we slowed down as the sun sank and we watched Charlie Brown Mayflower Voyagers and snickered through Snowball Express. This year, we delayed watching White Christmas and visited instead. As we should.

This year, we stayed two nights, cuddled under handmade quilts and fleece blankets, without alarm clocks. Blessed rest.

Home again, the busy task of decorating began, one box, one string of lights after another, until the house was full of cheer. And thoughts of Daniel were everywhere, in the ornaments, the food, and the music. Tears are not incompatible with joy. Tim took an early morning drive in the first snow with a driving instructor, and I mailed my last Christmas package as the post office opened. But mostly, we stayed home, feeling peaceful and bright.

Boulders, a Wedding Crasher, Pimpernel, and White Gloves

A month and a half ago, the mudslide at Spring Lake looked like this. But after more rain, it became clear that this mud was also full of boulders and rocks. My dad is a master with rock walls. The mountain couldn’t have gifted these to a better recipient.

(The family has been trying to dig out trees from the mud to save them.)

 

While the men and boys worked on the dirt and rock project, I organized the library at my parents’ house. The Sanchez family is a family of builders, minus me. I just like to be zen and organize decor.

I crashed a wedding gathering this week so I could see Paige as a bridesmaid at the Salt Lake temple. I sat in the sun on a bench on the south side of the temple, warm and bright, and couldn’t imagine anything I would rather be doing. I didn’t take any photos of the wedding party because I wanted the moment for myself. Plus, I shouldn’t have been there. The less evidence the better.

A friend took me to see this play this week and we ate Peppermint Crunch Junior Mints. Delightful. Except I can’t erase the guillotine scenes from my mind. HOW did they do that?

Mark had a band concert this week and Tim was a guest artist since they needed trombones. Ha! He and his two friends sat at least a head taller than the middle school kids. But he had his own dressing room with pizza. Mark has taken to wearing white gloves when he plays his trumpet. He is pretty dapper sometimes.

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.

Tim’s Great Game

He scores!

photo credit: Dean Brockbank

It was a glorious morning on Saturday with sun, pleasant temperatures, and a great Frisbee game to watch. Timothy is fast and made some great catches. His position is like wide receiver in football. He runs down the field for the long passes and there is a lot of glory when he scores points.

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.