We are moving forward with carpet after nearly seven years in the house. I guess this means we are staying, although we saw a lot more of our families when we lived out of state. Living close to family means we’re everyday relatives, not destination relatives. In fact, we went to St George this weekend and neither we nor anyone else took a single photo. I’m a little sad that I don’t have pictures of the missionary, his pretty mom now out of the hospital, the cousins, the aunts and uncles, and the grandparents who gathered to celebrate his service. We are still treated like destination relatives, but our stays are shorter. I love being present for the big and little things for the extended family, and there are some very sweet memories that I will treasure from this trip that do not require photographs to recall.
May has been its usual busy self. Richard was away from home all but one weekend, I think. The sprinkler system has been down, but the rain has compensated very well. My new church calling has stressed me out, but with each “first” and introduction, I see that things will be fine. The boys have stayed up late. We have still not planted the tomatoes. I don’t remember the last time I mopped the floor. But sometime this summer, there will be soft new carpet in the house, and I have a pretty new plant. The woman at the store who cares for the plants was a little sad that I took it home instead of her. I kind of want to name the plant Shiela. Wait. Did I just share that online?
I asked the family if anyone remembered their 13th birthday. Mark said right away, “I do,” since it was the day before. Paige told me that she remembered her thirteenth birthday because she got braces and her hair cut that week. I remember being angry about being teased. Tim remembers going to a Star Wars premier at midnight.
I like to read old posts of how things used to be, so here’s one for the time capsule.
At age 13, Mark is interested in reading, Legos, Scouting, the Anthem PS4 game, and a Netflix show about mind games. Salted caramel anything? Yes, please. Dark chocolate is pulling out in front of milk chocolate. His birthday cake of choice is Violet Sanchez’s glazed lemon cake. Milky Way candy bars, chili cheese Fritos, and store brand cherry toaster pastries traveled down the conveyor belt at the grocery store this week in his honor. He likes to peruse the spice aisle and try new flavors. Favorite dinners usually include beef: meatballs, meatloaf, pot roast, hamburgers, and steak. He also loves smoked chicken and is a barbecue sauce connoisseur. He reads my cooking magazines and likes to make Aebleskivers.
He is fastidious in his hygiene, disciplined in his obedience, and keeps a cluttered space for his building projects. He collects movie ticket stubs, smashed pennies, baseball keychains, Archie comic books, and mementos from times with his cousins. He can read a book in an afternoon and we make a lot of library trips. He listens to the radio in his room, and he likes the music of AJR, preferring the radio edited versions of their songs. George Ezra? Yes. Collin Raye?(in Mom’s car) Nooooooo!
Language Arts and Math are his least favorite subjects this year. I think it has more to do with the teachers than the subjects. He loves science, history, band, and Raisels sour raisins for which he makes trades during lunch time at school.
He’s accomplished and smart, but I am most proud of the person he is becoming. His self discipline in piano practice and scripture study are uncommon in someone his age. He asks me how my day is going and still pats me on the back reassuringly and randomly. He is making changes in screen time habits for the better. His Primary president, Barbara Bartee wished him a happy birthday and delivered a handmade gift, even though he has been out of Primary for a year. He spent his birthday morning cleaning the kitchen at the family cabin, deep in conversation with his cousin, Kaitlyn. He ordered a caramel shake, a scone, a barbecue burger, and onion rings for lunch at the Hi Mountain Drugstore in Kamas for his birthday lunch. He picked out an orange Technic car from the Lego store to build, and we watched the Lego Movie 2 in the evening. Daniel made a video call to wish him a happy birthday from Chile. They spent most of the conversation talking about Lego engineering.
This is long, but I know from experience what little details will mean in the future.
Mark, you are loved and needed. You are smart and kind. You make great food and I like how you ask me questions about what I think. I like how you style the front of your hair standing straight up and keep the rest short. I like your laugh. It has a deeper pitch than last year, but keeps its essential rhythm, a long series of chuckles followed by a sharp intake of breath. Your features are more angular than last year, and you are inches taller than I am. You don’t read the blog, but someday perhaps you will see this and smile. I love you.
I heard lots of great music this weekend from my family: a trombone quartet at a State music festival, a piano solo by Richard at church, and a concert at the Cathedral of the Madeleine with our niece in the choir. And my father in law commented on our family picture wall all afternoon. That was a sweet melody, too.
In the shadow of sandstone formations, I watched the boys scale almost every surface they could. In the silence of the land, I walked a little with God and told him things I really want to do and felt his blessing. In the light of the temple, I saw more clearly who my sons are, and who they are becoming.
A neighbor observed that the views we seek most often are valleys, not mountains. I think we love the view of a valley because it reminds us how far we have come. We are ascending, after all.
The Finnish side of our family has been a mystery for so long that I just settled into the idea that Ida Maria was not going to have a maiden name. Today, with a few acts of faith and courage to ask someone to help me access a different website, I found my great-great grandmother’s maiden name, and traced her family back to 1760. She was one of ten siblings. I had access to all their names, the names of mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters in minutes. The Stake Family History consultant who helped me cried with me at the sight. This was a big breakthrough!
Ida Maria has been on my mind for 11 years, but more frequently in the past few months. I think she wanted to be found because I am no expert. I just showed up at a family history center and asked the questions that came to my mind. Many of us have put in effort to find her, but I got to be the one today, and that feels like one of the biggest honors of my life. I cannot sleep for the joy of it.
…drives the band in the school bus to and from state basketball tournament games safely…
…sees me and talks to me while checking my groceries…
…gives my sons rides home from church activities…
…stays up a little later to make a lesson plan a little more engaging…
…donates money so our daughter can have scholarships and art grants…
…feeds our missionary son and asks for the recipe of his favorite dessert, even though it is in a different language and has different standard measurements…
…takes time to visit the school to speak encouragement and tell fun stories to my middle schooler…
…reads my self centered words…
…takes time to write to me…
…remembers important days and acknowledges them…
…shares talents…
…RSVP’s to a party invitation even when I don’t ask for it…
…shares a real life experience with me, not a contrived version she thinks would be more palatable…
…inspires me to seek deeper meanings in my study of scripture…
…inspires me to be myself…
…notices when we are missing…
…sees that we are trying…
…asks good questions and listens to the answers…
…doesn’t try to define us as just one thing…
…delivers mail in the snow…
…takes away our trash every week…
…selected our piano for their showroom so we could find it in Tucson…
…planted the trees in the yard…
…selected our white kitchen cabinets…
…wrote the book I finished today…
…shared the Book of Mormon with my family/ancestors…
This clip won’t mean much if you have not seen the movie Coco. I didn’t like the movie the first time I saw it, but I now love it. The look on Hector’s face as he steps on the bridge of flowers makes me cry every time. Because he is remembered.
Our family has a “Hector,” and his name is Jose Sabas Antonio Sanchez. My parents found his grave this year in Merced.
Jose Sabas Antonio’s grave in Merced. All alone – says Joseph S. Sanchez.
I put up the Christmas decorations and realized I needed a new touch this year:
My Great-aunt Susan’s doll sitting on my Great-great-great grandmother Emma Louisa Boyden Ostler’s chair. (1846-1897).
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.
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.
