Category: Family Time

Sparkle babies

We delayed my birthday dinner to a later night, hopeful that we could spend more time together. After hearing our plans, one of our sons showed us in a variety of ways that this was not where he would like to be.

My reaction when he asked how long this was going to take was to more fully define a line between us. I dug a canyon with steep cliffs, hungry mountain lions hidden in caves, and a raging river below with my words, and retreated to my bed, so hurt that I considered canceling the evening.

“Why do you say one thing when you really mean something else?” The Spirit spoke to my mind. “All you need to tell him is that you want to spend some time with him for your birthday.”

My opportunity came during dinner as my son slumped in the seat beside me, refusing to enjoy the meal.

“I said a lot of things, but what I really meant was that I just wanted to be with you for my birthday,” I said quietly, leaving out the reprimand.

We walked through the mall after dinner and stopped at the Lego store. When he saw my delight at the tiny baby Lego figures, he carefully pulled the box from the shelf when I wasn’t looking, scaled the canyon walls to reach me, ignored the mountain lions of bad memories, and bought them for me.

I think the Lego sparkle babies were his way of saying what he had really meant to say, too.

Snapshots of the week

Dresses and lots of wedding details
A salamander in our sprinkler box
Live music by our friend Jesse; desserts, good food, and celebration.
Up to the challenge
One handed
Dalton’s is for special occasions.
The things you find when you help someone move

Not pictured:

My look of relief when I realized that “making” kids love the Pauline Epistles is not essential to being a good parent.

The happy bride in her dress.

Mark’s concerto performance.

The best apple crisp I have ever made.

The trophy Timothy earned by learning three concertos over three years.

The view of the Salt Lake valley from my car as I explored above the University of Utah while the boys had a class. The trees, dressed in their fall colors, and the sky changing to gray with an approaching winter storm offered the view I needed.

The cake our family made together that tasted so terrible we had to throw it away.

The letter from Daniel’s mission president assuring us all missionaries are safe in their apartments as there are riots going on.

Healing

The dog is healing. He finds comfort in the boys after school and Richard in the evenings. During the day, he is stuck with me, the mean one who forces down medicines, locks him in the mudroom during errands, gags at the smell of his food, and cleans up his messes while muttering threats at him. I have never been a dog person because they scare me. This experience taught me that I like our dog a little bit, after all.

I finished my study of an important topic to me in the Book of Mormon in the early morning hours on Monday. This has been my steady work for months, and considering what it has given me, it seems funny it is only 16 pages. It is my record of reconciling some things I heard in a lesson at church and what the scriptures have to say on the topic. This study helped me see how things really are… And they are not what the teacher said, and not what I thought. Still, I could feel something was off, and now I know. And the Book of Mormon is, as ever, absolutely true, and a perfect manual for life. Amen.

Just Keep Going

In recent years, I have measured success in projects completed and books read, people visited and words written. By most of these measures, I failed this summer, seriously failed. However, the days were full. I did what I thought I should do each day. I put aside some things to do the invisible and unnamed. Some days I wasted time, other days I did too much. I learned that my goal to read one book a week is not a good goal. The goal should be to keep reading.

So, the lesson of summer 2019 is to keep going, even when it seems like it doesn’t make a dent. Eventually, I will finish that 900-page book, and hope to see that these days of unremarkable tasks were the making of me.

(Photos are from our Labor Day hike to Twin Lakes, which took us past Solitude Lake and Silver Lake)

Last week of summer break

Just as I was surprised last year by a serendipitous sunflower at Daniel’s departure, another one popped up in the garden on time for his one year mark. It brought me to my knees right there on the lawn. God knows our days.

Our boys performed at a piano recital on Monday night. Timothy played a Debussy piece and Mark played a Beethoven. We took them out for Chinese food and someone asked if Timothy was on his way to a mission. Aaack! Not yet! Mark pushed his food around his plate. He is full of cares.

I walked into the middle school with Mark this week, and through the halls of the elementary school to visit my friend’s Harry Potter themed classroom. I did not walk into the high school, but corresponded with one of Tim’s teachers. Still, I am in denial that they will be in school again on Monday. My homeschool memories clutch my heart and make me cry a little each August. Was I really so bad for my kids?

Tim invited a girl over to watch a movie and we all felt awkward and I found myself baking brownies as a bridge. Even their fudgy goodness couldn’t span the gap, but they were delicious.

This summer, the lawn care and landscaping business run by Tim and his friends has kept him outdoors all day, six days a week sometimes. This week, in addition to mowing, they decided to offer a garbage can washing service. Tim was in charge of transportation of the cans, just emptied by the garbage truck, to a new location where another boy pressure washed them. I have texts from happy customers about their sweet smelling cans. This is life with Timothy: unpredictable, but excellent.

Paige moves home tomorrow for a few weeks before her semester begins. There will be three “children” home for the next few weeks, with only one abroad.

Backpacking nearby, Richard is able to send me photos of the evening with Mark. What a blessing.

I remember the last night at girls camp in Arizona, I moved to a new tent by myself to make space for the Bishop’s wife to stay. That night, I noticed that there was cell service in this isolated tent, and Richard and I were able to have a precious conversation that I needed so much.

That was seven years ago, just before our move to Utah. Many miles and experiences later, the highlights of my summer are still moments of connection with Richard, whether on long walks or during fleeting calls from campsites with spotty service.

As I wrote the last paragraph, Richard called from his hammock, somewhere near Brighton. All is well there.

Our place

The Weber property has power over memory and time. Nowhere else can I feel my grandparents’ presence and influence greater. It’s here that I feel the tangibles of my childhood so well, but also slip easily into my place in the continuum of family roles. I’m the older aunt in the kitchen now, the one on the shore and bridge watching the children float down the river. I have been the child in the river and the teen lingering on the edges of traditional family games and songs. I have been the young mother chasing children and playing in the river with them. Now I am the older mother, no longer trying to get my children to eat something new, with a heart stretched by distance between us. The balance has shifted a little during these midlife years, and I find that I look ahead a little less than I recall the past. In childhood, everything lay ahead. In the quiet of this phase of life, I feel ancestors about me, and see that they continue to shape my life, my expectations for my children, and my definition of the good life. It is a beautiful legacy to visit each summer at the cabin.

Sherbet Skies

Feeling a bit low this week, I went shopping for a gift, and noticed a beautiful rug in the store. I took picture after picture and admired the price. But the thought came that buying this rug wouldn’t fix the way I felt. I remembered a friend in Arizona whose home was filled with expensive, beautiful rugs. When I complimented them, she told me that she bought them during a time of grief.

On this beautiful week of sherbet sunsets, long walks, porch conversations, and a midnight message that family traditions live on while apart, my lapse in courage does not need to be memorialized with a rug!

Finding courage is about gathering from a depth of being and experience we no longer remember. My courage this week came as I studied pictures and stories of ancestors, and from a small voice in my mind reminding me of the power within myself to handle this time in my life. It came as I trusted in my ancient and continuing relationship with God.

Wagon cookies for Pioneer Day
Paige’s wagon cookies
Spring Lake porch conversation
MMSK together
Buddies forever

Surprises

One surprise was this subtle, powerful song was the audience favorite at the Pioneer Day concert I attended.

Last Sunday, when I made my trusty plan for the week, I thought my highlight would be a small Primary Presidents’ luncheon for twelve women. It was to be a good, but basic week. But then, invitations came. All week, I have been surprised by the expansion of my plans.

One big change in plans was I was asked to accompany someone in church on the violin, only the music was written for the cello. Richard watched me trying to transpose music by hand and took charge and produced the music I needed using the computer. He intervened quickly, without my asking, and this was so helpful!

Another small surprise was being invited to perform our song at two family gatherings last night after playing the song in church. It was an honor to be invited to these two homes for a few minutes.

Do we know how powerful a home and family feel to someone stepping in? Even though I came from my own cozy evening with family, I felt honored and gifted by the family feeling (the Spirit of the Lord) in each of these homes.

Friends, I am certain that your brand of hospitality and your family, even if it’s one person, have power and goodness. That may be a surprise to you, but I know it is true. Invite someone to your home for lemonade or music or a meal. They will not forget it.