Zoom! On every level, this is the word that describes our time with Tim, not just the virtual classes during the pandemic. He’s one of our Austin babies, and from the start, he has surprised us with how ready he is to move forward in life.
I saw a funny post on social media about how to take your child to college. It was a picture of a mother wearing sunglasses with a piece of tissue wedged beneath each lens. Yes.
When I think of the many tears I cried as I anticipated Paige leaving home, I realize now that this was a little indulgent. Going to college was such a positive thing for her, and memories are not lost when a child leaves. In fact, memories improve with time. Yet those tears were part of my own steps to grow in understanding.
During the turbulent weeks of uncertainty leading to Daniel’s evacuation from his mission during Covid lockdowns and international borders closing, I felt so much fear, but now I know there was no danger. Yet that anguish and loneliness were understood and met as I prayed and meditated during those awful weeks. These were the weeks when I really learned about the ministering of angels.
The tears for Tim’s growing up have arrived. Perhaps these tears will seem unnecessary when I look back on them, and surely this ache I feel should be tempered with experience and perspective, but I can’t always be reasonable. I don’t feel less with time, I might actually feel more. Certainly, each experience of preparing children to leave home is unique and each child is loved so individually. How can I possibly think that I have any of this “down” and handle it any other way?
While my tears and feelings of loss may be like a child’s fear, unfounded and illogical, these are times when I learn the most about my children and my own status as a child of God.
I am loved enough that God sends help when I think there is danger, even when He knows there is no danger. He sends comfort when I fear things that He knows are unreasonable. Our Heavenly Parents understand our feelings because they have loved and said goodbye to each of us and know all about this part of the experience. Through tough goodbyes, I am given a gift of discernment to know how special each child is, not just to me, but to a larger circle than I can see.
Some people speak in paragraphs, others with a sentence, and Tim speaks in short syllables. He is unassuming and modest, so I won’t write paragraphs here to detract from the general presence he carries. It’s a good day to cheer for Timothy.
Mark and Tim won’t be required to wear masks at school next week. Someday these masks will seem distant, and our boys have had to wear them the most, as they attended school in person 4 days a week during the school year.
Richard and I enjoyed Mark’s first and only in-person band concert since 2019. He plays the trumpet as a freshman in an audition band. We couldn’t choose a favorite piece they played, we enjoyed them all. We have been allowed to go to many events at the high school this month, and aside from the masks on our faces, it is just like old times. It’s an encouraging sign of better days to be able to walk into the high school and cheer for our kids again.
He turned 15 without a lot of fanfare, but I know I thought about him every few minutes all day long. This morning 3 of us got up early, each thinking we would take him to his early morning rehearsal. We love this boy.
If I could choose a symbol for Tim right now, it would be his stack of work shirts on laundry day. It’s a point of contentment for me to know he works hard.
Another symbol might also be his 1980 Fiat Spider. Right now the car is an empty shell as Tim installs new carpet and paints the interior. It’s a daunting project, but he is chill about it. He knows how to work and have fun.
Tim has a regional woods competition this week. I can’t wait to show you his finished cabinet and bed. They are beautifully made.
For the first five or six years we lived here, I would pull out the tulip leaves before they would bloom beneath the trees because I was uncomfortable seeing leaves coming up through the periwinkle. We hadn’t planted the bulbs and it just looked messy to me. I didn’t see the potential. One year, I decided to let them come up and bloom and they have astonished me by their beauty ever since.
There are parallels in life. I find that the less I do to pave every path for my teens, the more they find their independence and flourish. It’s not that I give up entirely, but I trust the simple religious practices, family rules, and their foundation in the gospel to be an anchor and a guide. In tulips, the bulb and roots weather the winters, not the leaves and blooms. Latent abilities and futures are waiting to spring forth when conditions are right for tulips and for teens. It’s good to step out of the way and not get frustrated by the random leaves when they start coming up where I did not plant. Teen years, like these flower beds, are a bit messy and haphazard. As Tim approaches graduation, I am in awe at all that he has accomplished. In many ways, he has succeeded because I stopped trying to prune back his many random interests and pastimes.
One of the nicest things someone has done for me lately is to ask to read a short book of family history that I wrote. She not only read it, but took the time to compliment me when she returned it. She asked questions about people and noticed that I had written it when I was raising small children. She said she liked my ancestors. It really made a difference to hear every word from this valued friend.
The time my friend invested to read and tell me good job was like someone shining a light on a dark stage, recently darkened by the passing of my grandmother and our kids growing up. Thank you, J for shining a light.
Tim spoke in church and it was the longest I have heard his voice in years. He keeps it all to himself, the humor, the insights, the excellence. Some people just don’t show a need for approval, and he is the most independent person I have ever known. In only one class has he asked for help. Even when we were homeschooling, he would take his work to his room and do it alone. I came home from church and took a personal video of the recording of church services so I can hear his voice and his testimony whenever I need it, and I hugged him up and told him how proud I am of him.
Richard went on a trip to Moab with friends over the weekend, and our dog, traumatized by the separation, found a place in his suitcase as he unpacked on Saturday night.
We all self-soothe in some way about anticipated separations. I make a recording and the dog tries to stow away. I have found 3 gray hairs during my life so far. All have happened around the time of high school graduations.
This morning I awoke at 4:30 am and my mind was *on*. My notebook lay on the bedside table and I made the decision to turn on the lamp. Knowing how ideas, like butterflies, go, I wrote down what my mind had to say.
Later, in the human hours of the morning, I tried to deliver some flowers to someone, but her children wouldn’t leave the door to fetch her. Two red haired boys stood mesmerized as they looked at the flowers in my hands, and didn’t seem to understand I was asking to see their mom. Their eyes told me they should be the delivery people, so I handed them to the youngest and most eager, who immediately assumed new decorum as he marched forth. I stopped by to visit my mom for her birthday and found her giggling with her best friend of 30+ years. Lots of hugs today.
Mark and I were left alone tonight, so we ate out at Pizzeria Limone and sipped soda like pals.
I didn’t ask for anything from my grandmother’s home except the gray fox stole from the 1940’s, that is, if no one else wanted it. This and a few other treasures are now home with me. I don’t know if I dare wear the fur in public, but it is keeping me warm this cold evening. It snowed like it was Christmas today.
A year ago today, I was hospitalized and had just lost 53 cm of my small intestine. One minute I was well, and the next, I was not. A year later, I feel blessed to have this uneventful but active day.