Category: Motherhood

Shedding

Only children take seriously the first October snow. Grownups know that early snow is a bit of a tease. Look, it’s nothing, it melts as it hits the asphalt. Today, this November snow is no tease. It seems like an iron door, swinging shut against the light of fall. Gold is out, silver is in. White crayons on black construction paper couldn’t be farther from the truth of a late afternoon winter snow. The clouds seem to be a blank, universal color, but which one? Purple? Steel gray? They are not white, but their feathers are.

So much shedding from something so still as a cloud.

I sorted my house last week, accompanied by stillness and my own thoughts. I shed many things, mainly childhood supplies we no longer need, which the self-assured young mothers in my life do not want. My heart is a nebulous gray as I shed the trappings of young motherhood, feathery memories floating in the air all around me as I fill bags and boxes. The act, like a silent winter storm, is terrible and beautiful. Objects of every color and memories of every shade, so many that it only feels blank and cold when the sorting is over and the shelves are bare. White.

Recap

This was the week Richard went on a scuba diving trip, the boys played their piano concertos to an audience of two, and our tree erupted into every autumn color. Paige and Michael helped harvest the last apples before the frost. Mark took up baking again, and I started playing Christmas songs on my violin in earnest.

Favorite memory? The concerto performances.

Shuffling

Last week we sold our old black 1999 Toyota Sienna. It sold immediately after we listed it, and the emotions caught us a little by surprise. I guess it symbolized the adventures of raising our kids. It was a hassle-free car, with very few repairs needed during the past 18 years we owned it. I gave it a good pat and said thank you before it left our house for the last time.

During the past few months we have sold the van, Richard’s car, and three trailers, but Timothy fills in the spaces with his hobby cars. One of these must go before the snow arrives.

Tim’s Covid cars: lots of ventilation and only room for two people.

The Lord hath Comforted His People

“I am optimistic about the future. It will be filled with opportunities for each of us to progress, contribute, and take the gospel to every corner of the earth. But I am also not naive about the days ahead. We live in a world that is complex and increasingly contentious. The constant availability of social media and a 24-hour news cycle bombard us with relentless messages. If we are to have any hope of sifting through the myriad of voices and the philosophies of men that attack truth, we must learn to receive revelation.
“Our Savior and Redeemer, Jesus Christ, will perform some of His mightiest works between now and when He comes again. We will see miraculous indications that God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, preside over this Church in majesty and glory. But in coming days, it will not be possible to survive spiritually without the guiding, directing, comforting, and constant influence of the Holy Ghost.”

-President Russell M Nelson, Revelation for the Church, Revelation for our Lives, April 2018

This is the phrase that stood out to me most from this passage:

“Our Savior and Redeemer, Jesus Christ, will perform some of His mightiest works between now and when He comes again.”

This is an exciting time to be alive. There is hope and comfort to be found in Jesus Christ. Some days I live from prayer to prayer, trying to stay focused on light and goodness. This week has been mentally challenging for me, and the message that kept coming to my mind was to humble myself and reach out for some counsel and comfort from Richard and my parents. As I did this, I found the stepping stones I needed to cross this deep water I am navigating.

I am going to California tomorrow with my parents to bring my grandmother to Utah. This will require finesse, love, and angels. I don’t like to leave my family, but my illness this year has taught me that they are strong. I have done all I can to prepare and to be healthy as we take this big step. Our extended family has come together in prayer and fasting to prepare. My prayers for my grandmother are for her comfort and peace, and that we will know, step by step, what to do and say. I lay my burden at the Lord’s feet, his glorious feet, every few hours, all day.

Isaiah 52:7-10:

7 ¶ How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace; that bringeth good tidings of good, that publisheth salvation; that saith unto Zion, Thy God reigneth!
8 Thy watchmen shall lift up the voice; with the voice together shall they sing: for they shall see eye to eye, when the Lord shall bring again Zion.
9 ¶ Break forth into joy, sing together, ye waste places of Jerusalem: for the Lord hath comforted his people, he hath redeemed Jerusalem.
10 The Lord hath made bare his holy arm in the eyes of all the nations; and all the ends of the earth shall see the salvation of our God

Pastimes

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.

Emotional tool kit

I have done some work in the family’s bedrooms this week, and this video speaks to the feelings I have as I watch my children’s rooms change as they grow and leave home.

Seven months ago, before the pandemic impacted our lives, I had an idea to create an emotional tool kit, with physical objects to inspire and comfort. I wrote down a list on a post-it note, and began to move the note in my day planner, putting it off for another time. Maybe I was in denial. “Oh, I won’t need this,” or, “If I make it, something will happen that will make me need this.”

Then came new levels of isolation, earthquakes, uncertainty about the evacuation of missionaries, challenges from distance learning in schools, canceled plans, discomfort and disfigurement from abdominal surgery, and the secluded hospital stay. And so on.

I have been comforted, even without my little tool kit, no doubt about that. Still, this week, I remembered that I hadn’t compiled it, and decided it was time. It wasn’t difficult. I gathered things into an old hat box and slid it beneath my bed. Who knows if I will ever use it as I envision I might. If nothing else, it is a time capsule, and a reminder of my faith that comfort can be found in Christ, always.

The objects are small and have personal meaning. Some things are soft; others spur memories; on the bottom of the box are the scripture notes I have taken this year, which follow my 2020 spiritual journey even better than my journal. I tucked in a Michael Buble album that I love.

At times, everyone needs reminders that things are going to be okay.

If you are doing well, share your energy with others. If you are doing poorly, consider handling some physical reminders that Heavenly Father loves you and sent His Son for you. Allow the Spirit to bring joyful things to your remembrance. (John 14:26)