When Richard goes off on adventures, I stay home to fluff the flowers and pillows. This was our weekend.
This week, I am working on finishing a quilt and scanning certificates and awards for Timothy’s Sterling Scholar application. Most of us here are outmatched by assignments and work and concerns, but thankfully, Mark is not. I need to be more like Mark.
There aren’t enough batteries at our house. Maybe you can relate to that stalled little black car, just as I do this week.
This was a hike from Alta to Brighton, with encounters with high mountain lakes and spectacular views… or so these photos indicate. I dropped the family off in one canyon and picked them up in the other. They were smiling as I picked them up.
This post is brought to you today by Daniel. The 4-wheelers, planning, and execution of this trip were by Richard.
These weeks have not been easy. The not knowing, the not-so-good news, the waiting, painful conversations with people who heard Daniel was home when he was not, the constant school emails, and the work stress were rough. Things were complicated in Chile. Daniel helped print four different release certificates for himself in the mission office as his evacuation date moved several times. I prayed for peace constantly. One night, out of words to pray, I lay in bed praying the words to “Bring Him Home,” which was one of my more effective prayers.
Neither Richard nor I slept well the night before Daniel’s flight, and Richard tracked that plane constantly throughout the day. I kept busy, but felt my chest tighten as the day progressed. We drove to the airport together, two nervous wrecks. No, we didn’t think he would come home sick or harmed, but we were embarking into an unknown. Daniel arrived, full of light and reassurance. That night, I had my best sleep in years.
It’s not that we lacked faith. It’s that faith sometimes needs to be tested. Would we complain? Would we push our needs ahead of others who were suffering in different ways? Would we keep turning to God? Would we be overly dramatic about circumstances? Would we neglect the needs of our other children as we hyper-focused on our worries about international travel for Daniel? Would we stop acknowledging the blessings that flowed because Daniel was serving a mission? Would we forget hope? Would we neglect the little things like family prayer and scripture study in this sickly, dense fog?
There is much more to live before the resolution of this story. I don’t want to forget the comfort that only came through prayer. I don’t want to forget the light in Daniel’s missionary face. I don’t want to forget that there was a continual flow of understanding and concrete instructions as I read the Book of Mormon each day, pen in hand. These have been precious, soul-expanding days leading up to his return. Now that he is home, I am giving myself permission to breathe, rejoice, rest, and just look at Daniel’s face, in line with the rest of our children, all gathered together again.
The snow day, and its limitations and opportunities, has brought out different things in each of us. I pull into my familiar routines of comfort, warmth, and words. Richard makes gallant efforts every few hours to push the next 8-12″ off the driveway since the last pass. Tim has been gone since 5:45, earning money shoveling snow. Mark, feeling caged and frustrated, made toffee, then a gourmet lunch, and settled in for an afternoon of television. Whenever he surfaces, it is to complain how snow days seem like they will be great until they happen. Tim is driving our best snow vehicle, but we have no plans to go anywhere in this weather. I just watched the mail carrier’s truck fishtail out of the circle, despite chains on his wheels. No mail today. When storms like this come, it is often 24 hours before the plows can reach our home. 18″ of snow fell today. I will feel better when Tim makes it safely back to the driveway. I will make warm, starchy comfort food and keep alternating between two delicious books.
We had a video call with Daniel today, in a new area with a friend assigned as his new companion. Challenges include crime, no hot water, very high temperatures and no wind, and an empty area book. He smiles and smiles while telling me this, and I know he’s having the best time.
Good job if you made it to the end of this post. Most pictures are by our niece Rachel (Rachel Angela Photography). Most of my memories, thoughts, and feelings are recorded in my journal, where they will stay. If you were there, I hope you found your face in a photo or two. We are very grateful to all who came and all who showed their support in any way. It really was the very best day.
I didn’t realize this is how grown up our family looks. I’ve had lots of moments to reflect on life and our Heavenly Father’s plan of happiness in the past few weeks. This picture (even the absence of our adored missionary) represents all that the Savior has given us: absolutely everything that brings us joy. Here are just a few things this photo represents to me, made possible by our Savior:
repentance and forgiveness
the Gospel of Jesus Christ
covenants and ordinances
marriage
sacrifice
missionary work
miracles of healing and understanding
children
hope
testimony
faith in Christ
obedience to commandments
the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
patience
love
Letter from Elder Daniel Ross, serving in Chile, July 2, 2019
When I was younger I was a pretty picky eater. Broccoli soup was the wrong color, texture, flavor, and I just couldn’t do it. My mom tried serving it with crackers, goldfish, I took small bites with big drinks, hot or cold, it didn’t matter. I was quite sure I wanted nothing to do with it and was firmly set in my ways. Patiently my parents explained that it can take as many as 12 tries to learn to eat a food and that I had to keep trying it. Over the course of several years I did, though I didn’t notice a change for a long time.
Another statistic (I heard this a few years ago, I don’t know how accurate it is now) is that the average person who joins the Church of Jesus Christ through full-time or member missionary efforts has had at least 7 distinct/separate experiences with missionaries. In the winters here in Chile (And everywhere else in the world, I imagine) the work slows down a lot. Very few people answer the door, and rejection is much more common. We’ve been working hard as a companionship to find ways to finish every contact well so that no matter how the person acts, we can walk away at the end and they will remember us as friendly and professional. Sometimes we harvest here, but a lot of the time we’re just planting seeds. We’re continuing in faith, hoping that some of the results come during our time here.
Does it work?
(A huge thanks to a nice sister in the ward that learned in a past lunch that I have fond memories of my mom’s soups and had her husband deliver some broccoli soup to us at 10:00 one night. My favorite meal this week.) -Elder Ross
Connection and progress happen in the undercurrents of the to do lists and during transit between appointments. The on stage, public displays are a pinnacle, not the mountain we have climbed. They don’t call attention to themselves, but tiny, daily actions are life. Today I elevate some of these menial and plain things and dress them up as headlines:
Late night conversation keeps parenting goals on track.
Work at home issues forth connection and order.
Meal preparation: a rock in the fortress of home, every day
She waited weeks for a convenient time to ask family to move furniture.
A child is struggling? Pray with him.
Camping gear is well traveled.
Mother makes another trip to the store for gear and marshmallows.
Reconciliation evident in non-verbal ways
He often works from home at night to balance high demands of employer and others.
To avoid criticizing someone, mother pulls weeds outside.
Foregoing personal hobbies and family time, Scoutmaster pushes on.
Despite past failures, additional attempts are planned for family spirituality.
Dead, maggot-filled animal buried early this morning in the backyard
Stranded motorist helped by a kind stranger
She kept paper for taking notes.
Entire family commits to watching together a movie only one person will enjoy.
They sat down together at the table.
They took the time they needed to make a plan.
He changed the station again and again without hearing frustration from the driver.
Strength to do dishes and laundry is a blessing.
After years of being too busy, mother helps organize son’s collections.
He remembered to text his mom to let her know where he was.
She smiled instead of criticized.
He practiced each day.
He let his brother stick an earbud in his ear to hear a funny song.
They kept praying together.
I made some new friends this week, three women I did not know before, but felt inspired to choose to serve with me at church. I spent time with each of them, one by one, talking about important things like families, dreams, and testimony and felt my heart warm. I’m not surprised that I love them. I’m surprised how quickly it happened.
I worried and prayed for a sister-in-law.
I enjoyed a date night with Richard for our anniversary, which included two restaurants and lots of roses. Then, lucky us, we had another evening together later in the week, each of us dressed in Scout uniforms, matchy-matchy. I thought I was through with my uniform, but I am delighted at some good memories that came when I put it back on.
I watched Timothy play in an ultimate Frisbee tournament and helped him with Prom preparations. I had a lot of time with Tim this week, and I am so grateful for that.
I disabled the family computer last week, which was mainly being used to watch YouTube videos. When the kids were little, there were times I would chant, “I’m a big bad mama and I’m not afraid of you,” (I know, I am ridiculous) aloud or in my mind when I had to do the hard things that young parents have to do: enforce bedtime, deny requests for sugar, insist on car seats, clean up messes, and react in a positive way to tantrums. Not even that mental chant helped boost my morale over the computer drama. The reality is, a teen tantrum is much more painful to endure than one from a three-year-old.
Richard came home with the best pictures of a Scout campout in Diamond Fork. He brought his smokeless fire pit and Chip brought his guitar, and the boys and leaders sang around the campfire and roasted marshmallows and biscuits as it got dark. Mark came home from the camp, hugged me, and asked what he could eat. Balance is restored.