A Growing Time

When I left my first teaching job in Ogden, Utah for a closer-to-home job, the staff gave me a gift certificate from a local nursery so we could use it to help beautify our unfinished yard in our new home. I had a difficult time saying good bye to my colleagues at Mt. Ogden Middle School, and wanted to have a reminder of their love and support, so I asked Brett to pick out a beautiful blue spruce with the certificate. We planted this little tree in the corner of our back yard and watched it grow. Every time I looked out my window and saw the majestic symmetry of the small evergreen, my thoughts went back to those wonderful teachers and support staff who really showed me what my new teaching career was all about.

Here is a photo from May 2004, and you can see our little tree just over Abbey's shoulder. Unfortunately, this doesn't show the perfection that the tree started with because a winter storm had already broken off two delicate branches with heavy snow.

Our tree has grown quickly over the last fourteen years, and in spite of the harsh conditions of Utah summers, Utah winds, and the neglect it has endured, it stands today. But it is definitely a much different tree now.  When we first planted it, the blue spruce had a perfection about it that I was so proud of. If there had been a photo of the perfect evergreen in the dictionary, it would have been of my little tree. Even though it survived some of the big wind storms at the beginning, as it grew, our tree became more susceptible to the monstrous winds and winters of Bountiful, Utah.

I really noticed the toll our tree has taken when we came home last summer after living overseas for four years. The 2011 winter had brought a dangerous wind storm in December that tore down fences, flipped shingles everywhere, ripped trees out of the ground with their roots, and prompted a county wide disaster clean-up on a Sunday with church meetings being cancelled. We had to watch that storm, with its 100+ mph winds, play out on the internet in Qatar, and we prayed that we would still have a house standing when it was all over. Thankfully, our house had damage that could be repaired, but our precious tree in the corner had been unearthed. The photos our son sent to us showed the naked roots above ground that were as vulnerable as a compound fracture. The tormented tree lay prone on its side. The fence was gone too and made the tree all the more hopeless and exposed. The work of repair and clean-up would have to wait until summer when we could orchestrate the monumental task, so the leader of our back yard forest had to bide its time. I gave it up for kindling and prepared myself to watch it be chopped up and hauled away.

It is difficult to see in the photo, but this is one of the insurance photos that shows the fence gone and our tree laying on its side with the roots exposed. So sad!

When we finally returned to Utah in June 2012, standing next to my tree was even worse than looking at the insurance pictures, but remarkably the tree was still growing. I don't know how the spring had won over this hopeless cause, but life was definitely left in my Mt. Ogden memory tree. We didn't know what to do. If we tried to straighten the tree and replant the naked roots, would it die? What if we removed the exposed roots to make it look more "normal"? Would it survive the makeover?

Here you can see the exposed roots of the tree.

 

Well, sometimes there are too many decisions to be made, so some go ahead and make themselves. Our tree went ahead and kept growing while we kept working out the other issues. Maybe it was our way of letting nature repair itself or not wanting to face the inevitable demise of the tree. It wasn't my perfect tree anymore, but it was alive and it was thriving. There were new knobby starts on the ends of the branches. The exposed roots were settling into their new environment and standing firm. So the other repairs and decisions took priority.

When fall arrived, the growth of our tree was remarkable, and instead of growing in the horizontal direction that the top had been pushed to, there were inches and inches of growth shooting at a 90 degree angle for the vertical sunshine. This was one tenacious tree. I could only stand in awe and take pictures of something that would not be stopped or deterred from its mission - to grow.

So now our tree has survived yet another winter, and a harsh one at that with more snow than we have had for quite a few years. It isn't the perfect little tree we once planted, but its remarkable shape is inspiring and even more forcefully reminds me of those in my life who grow and bless others with their love in spite of their challenges. Our blue spruce continues to grow towards the heavens and believes it will brush up against the glories of God one day to be ushered into the forever forests of the next life. This brave tree has made me believe the same thing, and not only about my tree, but about myself and anyone else who keeps bracing themselves against the winds, worries, and disasters of this life and keeps growing towards the Son.

Autumn Blessings

We are so happy, so peaceful about being home in Utah again after our four year adventure in Qatar.  We took some time today to enjoy the fall colors as we drove home from Provo via the Alpine Loop (which is where Robert Redford's Sundance is for all you non-locals).

It was so glorious to behold the beauty of autumn, and we were especially appreciative because we haven't seen the fall colors in person since 2007.  It was long overdue.  I marvel at what God has made for us to see.  Enjoy these beautiful shots, especially those of you in the Middle East who have been on a fall fast for awhile like we have.

 I think there is a hawk in the distance in this one.

Abbey Turns 11 on 11-6-11

She has grown up so quickly and this last Sunday was just another reminder that our little girl is not such a little girl anymore.  It was her birthday and as usual it pricked my heart with memories.  I have always tried to tell each of our children, on their birthday, the story of their birth as their bedtime story - what happened on that day, how everyone felt, and what it was like to welcome each of them into our family.  This year, as usual, Abbey sat transfixed as I told her about her arrival on a cold, blustery November day in 2000.  She is in love with that story and especially in love with the part about everyone coming to adore her as they met her for the first time.  She looks worried when I tell her how she didn't breathe on her own at first and I had to tell her to breathe.  She gets a big smile when she hears the part about how Ben was the first one to hold her after Brett and I did.  Then she giggles when I tell her how nervous he was and was afraid he would drop her.  She always looks surprised when she hears how Kristy held her and told her that she was beautiful and perfect.  And the story goes on from there.

At Halloween Abbey got accused of being too old to trick-or-treat by one of our neighbors, but she just smiled and held out her bag anyway.  She has often been expected to act older than she is because of her tall, long-legged frame.  When she told me about the comment from our neighbor I wanted to go to his door and explain how wrong he was but I didn't.  I did get a little more upset about it than I should have though.  I guess you probably know why . . . well, Abbey's birthday was only a few days away and I was going to argue with anyone who put my baby in the "too old" category for enjoying any holiday as a kid.

Well, her big day didn't turn out to be very exciting because Brett and I were in the middle of dealing with the flu and all its fun.  Brett mustered up enough strength to take Abbey and two of her friends to the movie, and all she wanted from me was strawberry pancakes for breakfast and a red velvet birthday cake. Ha!  Easier said than done, but I was going to do all I could not to burst her bubble of innocence and confidence in me.  I was going to make that breakfast and bake that cake, even if it killed me, and it nearly did.  My flu tried to turn into pneumonia the next day, but some well-timed antibiotics staved that off luckily.

The pancake breakfast turned out okay, but as you can see from the pictures, the cake wasn't pretty.  (And you must know that it takes a confident woman to publish these photos on the internet among all the perfect Suzy Homemaker fantasy blogs.) The recipe I used was from a reliable internet source but sometimes, no matter what, the whipped cream (that is essential in the frosting recipe) in this part of the world cannot be counted on.  But being the wonderful girl Abbey is, she took it all in stride and called it her most memorable avalanche birthday cake ever.  Then she told me that her birthday wish when she blew out the candles was going to be that her mom and dad get well.  BIG points scored with that one!

A special thanks has to go to the Straight family for wanting to be in on the festivities and Skyping with us so they could help sing "Happy Birthday" and Jalisa could cheer Abbey on as she tried to blow out the candles.  Thanks, Jim, Jennifer, Jalisa, and even Sammy the cat for being our chosen family even while we are so far away.

Speaking of how wonderful Abbey is, I have to hand it to her.  She lives around expat kids who get a birthday party every year along with too much of everything else.  Maybe it's because their parents are trying to compensate for not being able to live at "home", or maybe it is this way in the states as well and children are just overindulged, but whatever it is, these kids are SPOILED.  Brett and I have been determined not to let that happen with our Abigail, so the birthday party is one thing we have held back on.  Our older kids had maybe three birthday parties each the whole time they were growing up and that was plenty for them, for me, and especially for our budget.  Even though our budget is a little better off these days, we have told Abbey that she isn't going to have a big party every year with her friends.  She isn't happy about it but she understands and doesn't complain.  In fact she gets involved and plans her own birthday activities.  When Brett and I suggested we all go to the movies she said, "No offense guys, but I really don't want to hang out with adults all day on my birthday."  Yeah, Abbey!  I love it when my children know what they want and stand up for it.  I hope she continues to be excited about and immersed in writing the rest of her "story" as she grows up.  She is extraordinary and I continue to sit back in amazement as she conquers her world.  And Mr. So Wrong Neighbor out there . . . Abbey will let you know when she is done with trick-or-treating, but luckily, this wasn't the year.

The Perfect Hot Spot, for Bread, That Is!

Finally, a positive use for the Middle Eastern sunshine of which we have more than our fair share.  No, I didn't bake it out on the front porch but I almost could have on the 118 degree day.  The bread turned out perfectly.

News Coverage of Elder Holland's 2011 Visit to the Middle East

Here is a link to a report about Elder Holland's visit to the Middle East this last April.  Jeffery R. Holland is one of the twelve apostles of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, someone Mormons revere and love as an ordained witness of Jesus Christ.  He has been here twice now since we have lived here - once before in 2009.  Last time Sister Holland came with him and the Relief Society sisters enjoyed a shopping trip to the old souq with her.  The Middle East political situation has changed a lot since that visit, so she didn't come this time.  Or maybe she didn't come because she was spending time with grandchildren.  Who knows?

It is amazing to know that the church is growing even here in a Muslim country where we cannot do missionary work.  It is a great comfort to know that our prophet and the apostles know how much we need their support and encouragement here and come in spite of the risks.  Elder Holland spent his time meeting with saints and building bridges with leaders and the communities here.  The three meetings I was a part of with Elder Holland were very uplifting and I had about twelve pages of notes after I typed them all up.  Again we got to shake his hand as we left the Doha meeting and thank him for coming and that was great.  I never know what to say when I meet someone I admire and look up to.  My tongue and personality get all goofy and I feel like a doofus when it is over.  Oh well, I hope he has the gift of tongues so he could translate my blather into coherent thanks and gratitude.

This Year's Mother's Day Gift

I had a surprising Mother's Day gift from Brett and Abbey this year.  They gave me a trip to Utah so I could go to BYU Women's Conference with my friend Lori, spend some time with Ben and Mary and my mom and dad, and then spend four days in Denver with Kristy and her family.  I think Brett and Abbey agreed that Mom was pretty much a lump and needed a big pick-me-up, so they knew a pilgrimage to BYU to get my spiritual and emotional cups filled up would do the trick.  They were right.  Seeing my grown-up kids and my two grandsons was a lovely bonus and did wonders for my happiness meter.

Ben and Mary picked me up at the airport - thanks AGAIN guys - and then took me to see their cute condo they moved into a few months ago.  It was so great to see their cozy home and feel their love filling up every corner and crevice as they prepare for this new little sweetheart who will be coming to rock their world this summer.  The baby's room is darling with the bed all set up, ready for my first granddaughter!  Oh, July will not come soon enough.  (At the end of my trip, while I was in Colorado, Kristy and I caught the buying bug and began the glorious experience of pink purchasing.  The outfits weren't ALL pink, but you get the idea.)  Mary looks so beautiful with her baby tummy and she and Ben are preparing for parenthood in such a thoughtful, purposeful way.  I'm so proud of them!  I forgot to take pictures of the baby's room or Ben and Mary, so you will just have to take my word for it - they are wonderful!

My friend Lori and I have gone to Women's Conference together a few times and have loved the time together learning and serving, so we were both very disappointed when we couldn't go last year because I was in the Middle East.  Well, Lori was pretty surprised when I called to ask her if she could make arrangements to go this year.

The conference was wonderful, as always, but this year both Lori and I took things a little more slowly and thoughtfully.  We kind of plodded our way through, so to speak.  Other years we have raced to get into lines for the more popular classes and worn ourselves out with strategizing and squeezing every last drop of opportunity out of the two days.  This time we promised ourselves we were just going to enjoy our time together and let the experience happen a little more naturally.  I think our ages and our health have forced us to come up with this new plan, but I really think it worked.

Lori is really quite talented!

My favorite classes had to do with having a merry heart, dealing with depression, and cultivating trust in marriage.  Both Lori and I felt the need to laugh as much as possible, so we gravitated toward the more hopeful class titles and let all the 20 and 30 year olds attend the supermom guilt-ridden lectures. 

We woke up to snow at BYU

This is the all important Women's Conference Bag.

One of my favorite general sessions was by Renata Forste and was entitled "Coming Together and Sustaining Each Other in Righteous Choices." She talked about how women sometimes sabotage each other instead of supporting and lifting one another.  Much of her talk was taken from a Dave Barry article entitled, "The Ugly Truth About Beauty."  If you google the title you will find a copy of the article and it is worth reading, framing, sending to friends on their birthdays, and passing on to your daughters.  Sister Forste said that as women we don't have to be victims of our socialization.  We need to step back and evaluate expectations of ourselves and see if they fit with our eternal goals.  We should also be mindful of the unnecessary expectations we put on other women to follow our same path.  She pointed out that personal revelation does not mean others must follow that same path.  We need to sustain each other as we make righteous choices.  This doesn't mean we can laud our testimonies and faith over other women and use them as a wedge.  She said that if we do we might meet some of these women we judged in heaven, and they will recognize us and say,  "Oh yes, you were a believer but you skipped the part about not being a jerk about it." It is funny but sadly true.

The class on dealing with depression was the most helpful and meaningful one for me.  It was kind of a miracle that we went because I hadn't noticed it listed in the schedule, but Lori did at the last minute, so we went.  The two psychologists who spoke were very positive, and I came away from the class with a lot of hope and some great resources I am already using.  As we were leaving the auditorium where the class was held there was a young woman sitting on the very top row crying.  She was all curled up and truly in pain.  I can only imagine what she has been through and what the class brought up for her.  I couldn't just let her sit there and cry alone, so I asked Lori to wait.  I climbed the stairs and asked her if I could give her a hug.  Her cries turned to gasps and she allowed me to hug her.  She didn't talk.  She just kept crying, but she wasn't alone.  I asked her if I could help, but she just shook her head.  I still think about her and pray for her.  I hope that the presenters were able to talk to her after I left.

"Grandma, do you know what a fork is?"

My four days in Denver at the tail end of my trip was so wonderful.  My grandsons were exactly the medicine I needed.  Before we even got home from the airport, four year old Thomas was telling me that he was going to teach me how to play chess as soon as we walked in the door.  And yes, that is exactly what he did.  I learned all the moves.  I learned what a fork is (a move where you use one of your pieces to attack two or more of your opponent's pieces), and luckily I got a phone call and had to turn the game over to Jared, or Thomas would have beaten me soundly.  As it was, Thomas did beat his dad and proceeded to celebrate by writing an email to Grandpa Brett about how he had put his dad in checkmate "at last." Yes, he had to wait until the ripe old age of four to beat his dad in chess!  (Jared told me he went easy on Thomas this time.)

Kimball cuddled with me every morning and all during each day.  That boy is a lover AND a fighter (he tends to get into mischief quite a bit).  Kristy and I talked about books, music, mothering, and her goals and plans for their future.  Jared and I took the boys to their new public library while Kristy taught piano lessons.  Thomas and Kimball really know their way around the book stacks and even know all the librarians by their first names.  One librarian talked my ear off about my brilliant grandsons.  I didn't mind a bit!

Kristy entertained me while shopping.

Kimball is a caution!

Kimball fed a goat at the farm.  He has no fear whatsoever!

 Kristy's cooking was amazing and so delicious.  She made enchiladas, corn salsa, strawberry/rhubarb crunch, lamb gyros (with homemade flat bread), caramel cake, and many other tasty delights.  I felt so spoiled.  We went to the zoo, the movie, the Littleton Farm, and the temple.  We packed as much into those four days as my body could handle.  I flew back to Doha with smiles and memories to last at least until we get back home this summer!

Holes In My Hopeful Hot Air Balloon

A few weeks ago, in the middle of the night, I woke up to Brett talking to me, but making no sense. I was staring at the light fixture above our bed, wondering what was going on and why Brett's voice sounded all loud and excited. I tried to turn over. I tried to ask him what was going on. I couldn't. I had no control over normally easy tasks. Then it slowly dawned on me that I was coming out of a dangerously low insulin reaction. The light fixture remained fascinating to me for about five minutes, but slowly I could nod my head to Brett's questions, and I was understanding those questions as well. Eventually I became coherent and realized I was drenched, and I mean drenched, in sweat. My pajamas felt like I had been in the shower fully clothed. I slowly got up with Brett's help. I told him I needed to shower and change all my clothes. As I got in the shower I battled dizziness and realized that I probably should have had Brett hold me up or something. I finished rinsing off and SLOWLY got dressed. I was exhausted.

After getting dressed, I got back into bed and looked at Brett's pale, scared face. He was as worn out as I was. I asked him what had happened. He told me that he had awakened and heard me breathing with very shallow breaths. He tried to wake me, but couldn't get me to respond coherently. He ran and got orange juice and managed to get some down my throat before I spilled most of it all over the bed. He said I still had a glazed expression on my face and wouldn't respond. That's when he went for the glucagon kit. He injected me, then gave me more orange juice. I guess that is the point when I woke up looking at the light fixture. I don't remember anything before that silly light fixture.

So my disease has come to this. I have tried so hard to control the uncontrollable for so many years. I have made myself a pin cushion, spent more money than I even want to count, and spent the equivalent of months of my life in waiting rooms and with medical professionals, all to combat this diabetic assault. I always thought I would be able to laugh and scoff when I looked at the bright red glucagon kit I would get every year at the pharmacy as a precaution and then throw away after it expired. Well, this one didn't get a chance to expire. I never planned to use the thing. My doctor, the inspired man that he is, wrote the prescription this time for THREE kits. I really didn't want to pay for that many, but forgot to tell the pharmacist to only give me one. When three showed up in the huge bag of medical supplies I had to pack for Qatar, I just threw them in the luggage because they were there, never in my life thinking they would be needed.

I think fixating on that red glucagon kit and what it represents is my way of not going completely crazy thinking about what is down the road with this disease. I have always been hopeful and positive, proactive about prevention and diabetic care, but the last few years have put some holes in that hopeful hot air balloon. Those holes are mostly about letting Brett down and being so dependent. I heard him tell his mom over Skype that he didn't ever want to go out of town without me, because that would mean I would have to sleep alone, and he couldn't allow that. It is pretty humbling to have to have a babysitter at the age of 46. I'm so glad to have such a wonderfully patient one. Brett never complains about all the costs this disease has racked up, and I don't just mean the dollar costs. He is amazing, but I was the one who was supposed to be amazing by taking care of the world! I want to be the caregiver, the vigilant one. It is also humbling to realize that I am a different mother to Abbey than with Kristy and Ben, and not just because of my age.

Well, coming close to my own mortality recently has made me reflect on many things, but I have mostly thought about the blessings of my life. Diabetes has been a blessing in the most twisted of ways. I have gained more empathy, more patience, more humility, and more realistic expectations for myself and others. Diabetes has forced me to let go of the excess that doesn't matter. I don't sweat the small stuff anymore. I just sweat the big, humungous stuff like insulin reactions in the middle of the night - literally.

Picture of the Week

Last Sunday we made a spontaneous trip to Temple Square to enjoy the flowers and the reverent feeling there. We timed it perfectly and stepped out of the car just as a heavy rainstorm ended. The temple is so beautiful and this is my favorite picture of this iconic building. I'm so grateful for a perfect plan that allows all of us to look towards eternity when we look at a temple.

Home Sweet Home

Hey, it's been quite awhile since I have posted anything, but recovering from salmonella, moving into a new villa, and traveling home to Utah have been the priority. Our flight from Doha to Salt Lake was a story all in itself, but let's just say one of us came down with the flu (Abbey) and the other two took turns holding a very good kitty in her carrier. All in all, the 28 hour flight could have been worse.

At least we made it home and were welcomed by a wonderful family. In addition to Ben and Mary, there were four surprises. As we were coming down to the baggage claim area in the elevator, Abbey said, "Hey, there's Kristy!" I thought she had just seen someone who looks like Kristy, but all I could see was a very unattractive woman, and I didn't know how Abbey could possibly think that woman was her sister. Then as Abbey was trying to explain, I saw Kristy poke her head around the corner of one of the airport shops. The surprise had been found out, but it was so fun nonetheless. I got to hold and squeeze my grandsons sooner than I had expected, and it was a good thing, because as we flew over Colorado before landing in Utah, a small part of me wished we had three parachutes so we could bail out and visit the Robinsons. Luckily, my sleep deprived mind didn't get that wish, because the Robinsons had come the eight hours to welcome us home. Other surprises included a newly finished basment room and bathroom and storage shelves courtesy of Ben, Mary, and Mary's expert family helpers. It was a great day, but we ended up at Instacare with Abbey having a 104 degree temperature. We spent the next few days laying low, recovering from the flight, and nursing Abbey.

Utah has had more than its fair share of rain the last few weeks, and most everyone here is pretty tired of it. We, on the other hand, love the crisp weather and the summer showers. Last night the sky was very dramatic as another storm gathered from the north. I snapped these shots of the beautiful sky and then the three rainbows we saw after the downpour. Brett, Abbey, and I stood on the porch and soaked in the spellbinding qualities of the rain. The wind picked up and turned quickly cool, and we watched the dark sky bubble over into streaking, headlong moisture in the distance. The mountains to the east picked up the clouds and they hovered so low that the peaks were covered. We finally had to go inside when the rain reached our front door. After a few minutes of blustering weather expressions, we stepped out to see three rainbows bending over the mountains, one for each of us. It is so good to be home.