Thankful for Home, 27 November 2014

Today will be the largest dinner I've hosted yet: Including my sons and little nephews, we'll have 18 for Thanksgiving!  Two of the nephews don't have enough teeth for turkey, but I'm still roasting 33 pounds for the rest of us (12.5 lbs went through the oven yesterday; the other 20.5 get going in an hour).

This year has the extra-special added element of an overseas visit from my sister Kay's family, who we haven't seen for two years.  And the extra-extra special part of their visit is that now they have Baby C...who I've been longing to meet since his birth 10 months ago!  Kisses over video chat just aren't the same thing as mooshing on plump cheeks in person.  Today will be the first time all five cousins--my two boys, Claire's two boys, and Kay's--will be together.  This Auntie is beside herself anticipating all those fuzzy heads whooping, crawling, or drooling all over her house.  It will also be such a joy to see my Dad with his grandsons inevitably piled all over him.

But on that note, there is also inevitable sadness because my Mom isn't here to see and know her grandchildren.  G is the only one who remembers her--and it's hazy at that, since he was only three and a half years old when she died--and she never got to meet the youngest three boys.  Holidays are full of mixed emotions anyway, especially for this tradition-oriented family.  We did things basically the same way every year, from the location to the food, and it's been a slow grief process to gradually form new traditions.

Some of our traditions have remained, however--like having our big dinner at noon and enjoying leftovers and pie for supper--and since this is Kay's first American Thanksgiving in six years, we're leaning on our traditional growing-up foods, too: Turkey with from-scratch bread stuffing, Boston brown bread, steamed green beans with slivered almonds and sour cream, red garnet yams with butter, mashed potatoes and gravy, jellied cranberry sauce (no whole cranberries allowed; my mom tried to introduce that but there weren't enough takers), and six different pies.

Not that different from many other Americans' Day of Thanks fare, but these particular dishes taste like home to us siblings...and I am so thankful for home--for the loving home I grew up in, for the welcoming home I have now, and for the eternal Home my mom has already gotten to.  In some ways, no matter what the joy or sadness, with my Heavenly Father at my side I'm always home.  Wherever you are today, may you feel welcomed home too.

Happy Thanksgiving, friends.

Introvert Meter, 07 February 2014

Know what my favorite part of being alone in a quiet house is?  The quiet.  Oh, and being alone.

Today I awoke with one main objective: Recover.  No, not from the flu or a nasty shock or an injury, but from people.  Perhaps some of you don't know this, but I'm what I like to refer to as a "high-functioning introvert," which means that I--generally--don't hide in the corner during parties and--generally--love having people over at my house and--generally--can keep up an animated phone conversation, but all of those things expend energy that isn't recharged until I get some alone-time.  The more people-energy I use up, the more recharging I need.

Like this.

Yesterday I made a big mistake and skipped my normal two-hour siesta (my daily prescription of being alone in my bedroom with the door closed, during which I read some Scripture and then sleep).  I've skipped my naptime before without my Introvert Meter reaching critical lows, but the combination of 4 hours of office work Wednesday morning, followed by 2 hours of rowdy kid music classes, followed by co-leading a worship service, followed by a choir rehearsal; and then on Thursday driving five goofy kids 20 minutes to school, followed by grocery shopping (yes, being in a grocery store uses up people-energy, especially if one of my kids is with me), followed by a visit to a children's museum with a friend and her son--great hang-out time, but still depleting the Meter--, followed by helping both boys in woodshop at school, followed by driving goofy kids back from school, followed by making some work-related phone calls, followed by making dinner, followed by doing homework with the kids...!!!

I drove away from the house yesterday evening for my 7 p.m. Al-Anon meeting, but when I got there, I parked my car and sat staring out the windshield for about 5 minutes.  Each time I pictured getting out of the car and joining my friends in the meeting, I felt like throwing up.

I think even this kind of meeting would have been too much for me!

It was at that point I realized I was running on empty, and I drove straight back home, put on my pjs, closed the bedroom door, and sat in bed under the covers.  All I could do was stare at the wall.

By 8:00, I was asleep.

I'm gonna give myself credit and say that I look a bit chippier when I have a full tank than this fellow does, but I'm pretty sure Jay would attest that last night my expression looked exactly like the one on the right.

Going to sleep early saved me from self-destruction, but it didn't restore my Meter to "full," so when I woke up this morning I set some parameters for myself: 1) Take a nap this afternoon.  2) In the evening, put on pajamas at the earliest possible moment.  3) Don't hang out with anybody anywhere tonight.

Which is why I'm sitting in a quiet house.  By myself.  The only noises I hear are the kitchen clock ticking, rain pattering on the skylight, and the soft hums of my laptop fan and distant traffic.  Bliss.  (Quick word to explain why I'm the only one home...the kids are with Mr. and Mrs. FIL tonight, and Jay--who is not an introvert--is hanging out with buddies.)

Slowly but surely, I'm recovering my sanity, which is just in time!  Tomorrow is Baby K's 2nd birthday party, followed on Sunday by leading a worship service, followed by a Bible study, followed by a group dinner/Olympics viewing at a friend's house.  Followed by work on Monday...

But no need to think about all of that!  I'm doing what I need to do to recover today--which, by the way, is something I've been learning in Al-Anon.  :-)

P.S.  Shout-out to Mrs. FIL for taking me to a lovely early-Valentine's day lunch today!  She picked a quiet restaurant with delicious food and we had some great girl time.  The perfect way to get me loosened up and relaxed before my nap.  Thank you!!

A New Season of Grief Begins, 27 October 2013

I am so tired of working through grief.

Today, three days before the second anniversary of Jay's mom's death, we told our kids their Grammy G is now in Heaven with Jesus.  This is the third grammy they've lost in 3.5 years, and the third mother-figure I've lost.

While Grammy is not legally related to us, she has been our closest family friend for the last 8 years, since before our son G was born.  I've mentioned her in a few posts, most notably in the strawberry jam adventure, but I'd like to spend little more time expressing how much she meant to us.

We met at church, got to know each other more while she and I worked for the same company, and fully adopted her into our lives as Grammy when Jay and I found out we were expecting our first baby.  I remember lounging in her living room one sunny afternoon while feeling morning-sick, and announcing the news of my pregnancy to her.  Her whole being glowed while she reached forward for a hug and said, "Oh honey!  I thought so."  She's been part of every major event--and countless humdrum ones--ever since.

Grammy isn't in very many of my photographs because I always knew I'd be seeing her again in a couple days; she's the kind of person I unconsciously assumed would always be around.  Just like we "happened" to go to the same church and "happened" to work at the same company, we also "happened" to live just a few blocks apart; we even lost our homes around the same time and both "happened" to move to new neighborhoods, which were again a few blocks apart from each other.  I'd often pack the baby (or babies) into the stroller and walk to her house for play time.  She had special toys she always got out for the boys, and going to her house was like going to Disneyland.  Even just last week, my 2nd grader and Kindergartner were asking to go Grammy's house.  They still excitedly play with the same toys (plus a host of others she's added to the collection over the last seven years).

Grammy has been to every birthday of both boys, plus every Christmas tree decorating and Easter egg hunt.  She took pictures of the boys in their costumes every October.  She counted their first teeth.  She interpreted their cries and first words.  When she retired a few years ago, she became our first-call baby sitter, equally available booked in advance or an hour ahead of time.  Even though plagued with back and leg pain, she occasionally took both kids for a night or two at a time--and I'm not sure who chomped at the bit for those visits most...Jay and I, the kids, or Grammy!

Grammy set up this informal photo shoot for G's first Halloween.

And for his third, she helped him make cookies.

Grammy has been more than a friend to my kids, though.  She has been a friend to me.

Being a "crafty" person, Grammy had a closet-full of party decor: ribbons, streamers, bobbles, candles, stickers, platters, centerpieces...plus a whole lot of ideas and experience.  When I hosted a baby shower, I went to her and her closet first.  When my siblings and I pulled off a surprise party for my parents' 30th anniversary, the decor was carefully packed from Grammy's closet and spirited away to the party.  When Jay and I had his parents over for their 30th anniversary, I used Grammy's dishes and tinsel.  As I prepared for Jay's sister's wedding, she tirelessly helped with decorating or watching my kids, as need arose.

At my parents' home, with Grammy's centerpieces and place-cards

This picture (and below) is at our previous home, celebrating my in-laws (on St. Patrick's Day); all decor is Grammy's, except the large painting and the China dishes on the table.

She has been there for me with advice, laughter, and encouragement in the riotous, hilarious, exasperating moments of motherhood.  She's been the #1 fan of my garden and flowers (just last week I texted her pictures of five bouquets I'd made, and she responded with delight to every one).  Her startlingly-helpful wardrobe advice has resulted in the cutest outfits I have.  When I went to visit my sister abroad, Grammy expertly packed my over-full suitcases.  She has sent many texts to me over the years, encouraging and affirming me as a person.  When I look at my timeline of loss, she was my first call and the first tearful hug at each crisis.  She's folded my laundry, done my dishes, swept my kitchen floor.  Needless to say, Grammy's on my speed dial.

There are ways I've been a special friend to her, too, and I mention them here not to toot my own horn, but to demonstrate the kind of unique friendship we had.  (Besides, no matter how much I helped her with anything, it never felt like I'd done half as much as she had to help me.)  Grammy cried on my shoulder during some of her hard times, and I walked her through a number of them.  When her back pain became too much to bear at a desk job, she sat on my couch and we filled out disability retirement paperwork together.  When her mortgage turned upside-down during the housing crash, I scheduled and accompanied her to HUD consultations.  I attended her father's memorial service (she attended my mother's and MIL's) and spent hours listening to stories--happy and sad--of her childhood and youth.  Because she never had internet at her home, she'd sometimes come over for my help if the need arose to print something or retrieve information from a website.

In short, Grammy has been like a mom to me since before I became a mom, myself.  I never imagined raising my kids without my mother living, but I knew I still had Jay's mom...and Grammy.  I never imagined raising my kids without Jay's mom living, but I knew I still had Grammy.  And now...

...I simply cannot imagine my life without Grammy.  So I won't.  Not today.  Today had enough of its own burden as Jay and I prepared and sat with the kids to tell them about this third great loss of their young lives.  We hugged them and cried with them and hugged them some more.

My little boys will get more hugs from us tomorrow, and I know I have other dear friends and family who will give me hugs, too.  But oh! why can't I have a hug from Grammy?

Mostly Yesterdays, 30 September 2013

This morning I had a wonderful time getting to know our new pastor of children and family ministries.  Pastor Elle and I sipped coffee and nibbled a cinnamon roll while I got to hear some of her story, and she got to hear some of mine.  It's not every day that I sit down with someone and review the highlights of the last few years...and honestly, it's not an easy story to tell.  I'm so thankful for Pastor Elle's thoughtful listening, and for the opportunity to review some of my recent past.

Plus, how can you not enjoy a cappuccino when it looks like this?

When I got to the story of Jay's mom being killed just 18 months after my mom died, Elle sat up with big eyes and said, "How did you not just run away from God at that moment?!  How were you not ready to give up on Him?"

I stopped and thought about it.  But my mind was blank.  "I don't know," I replied honestly.

I'd like to explore the "how," but first here's the "what."  The following timeline is not a pity-party, but it helps explain Pastor Elle's question this morning.  (Please keep in mind that these are just the "highlights"; sprinkled throughout are babies' first steps, landscaping projects, family vacations, dishes and laundry, flus, graduations, and lots and lots of everyday stuff.)

2005-2009

January 2005 - Buy an 850 square-ft house at what--we discover later--is the very peak of the housing market, planning to sell and move up in three years

September 2006 - G is born

July 2007 - I resign from my part-time job to be full-time stay-at-home mom

July 2008 - Z is born; house is feeling smaller and losing market value

July 2009 - We take a hard look at our financial situation with a home that has lost 70% of its 2005 value

December 2009 - We enter the market for a new house, reserving savings for a down payment  and aggressively research options for dealing with our current house

2010

January 2010 - I attend a weekend retreat and learn about accepting grief; I recognize my grief about college music and find comfort in the lament Psalms of the Bible

February 2010 - My dad loses his job; the pastor who married Jay and me commits suicide at the age of 50

March 2010 - My mom (diagnosed with polymyositis in 2001) goes into the hospital for an emergency spleen removal; a young dad at our church dies of brain cancer while his tween daughter is at my house (I tell her and accompany her to say goodbye to his body); a college friend's brother dies in a ski accident; we put an offer on a house

April 2010 - We get keys for our new house; my mom dies at the age of 52 after six weeks in the hospital

May 2010 - Our church overwhelms us by fixing up our new house for us; we start negotiations with banks to resolve our first home's mortgage problem

June 2010 - We move into the new house and begin short sale proceedings on the old house

October 2010 - My sister Kay gets married without her mommy and moves to New Zealand

November 2010 - I start regular sessions with a grief therapist

December 2010 - After 6 months of bank b.s., our old house goes into foreclosure process

2011

April 2011 - Our old house forecloses; my dad sells our childhood home of almost 25 years

August 2011 - Jay's sister gets engaged and moves to California to prepare for her wedding with family nearby; I start homeschooling G for Kindergarten

October 2011 - Jay's mom is brutally murdered at the age of 55 by one of her sons; I take on setting up meetings with legal services, work on the memorial service, and accept the reigns of planning my sister-in-law's December wedding

December 2011 - Jay's sister gets married without her mommy

2012

January 2012 - I take a hard look at my life and come to terms with the reality that a dear friend is an alcoholic...and simultaneously realize that my own life choices have spiraled down in ways that parallel hers

February 2012 - My ADORABLE nephew Baby K is born to my sister Clare--he's the first grandchild never to be held by his Grandma

March 2012 - I start attending Al-Anon; write my first blog post after burying my mom's remains; and attend the trial prelim for Jay's brother

April 2012 - I begin helping my sister Em plan her June wedding

June 2012 - Em gets married without her mommy; my dad remarries the very next weekend

October 2012 - Jay and I mark our 10th wedding anniversary (delaying celebration until 2013); we mark one year since my MIL's death

November 2012 - The trial against Jay's brother begins

December 2012 - The verdict is pronounced

2013

January 2013 - Jay and I are interviewed and photographed for the local paper about our housing story; sentencing is completed

February 2013 - Jay's dad gets married 

March 2013 to the present - Our lives take on less of the unexpected and more of the peaceful; we have our 10th anniversary celebration; Z starts Kindergarten; I reconcile with music 

That's the "what" of Pastor Elle's wide-eyed question.  You have your own timelines, your own stories.  This just happens to be mine.

So now the "how."  How did I go through--and continue to live with--all of this without giving up on God?

Now that I think about it, the how isn't that profound.  While writing this post tonight, I paused to look at--and cry through--some of the journal entries I wrote over the last three years, and they show how I deal with the grief.  I get counseling.  I journal and write poetry.  I cry.  I yell.  I get hugs.  I get angry.  I eat.  I exercise.  I sleep.  I lay awake.  I pray and hope.  I read.  I connect with others.  I see small and big ways that God gives me grace and strength to face the day.  I learn to be more compassionate toward others' pain.

The more profound question, I think, is "Why?  Why haven't I walked out on God?"

The answer is another 'w' word.  It's because of Who I'm convinced He is.

In the movie The Great Muppet Caper, our favorite green guy, Kermit the Frog, asks Charles Grodin's bad-guy character, "Why are you doing this?"  To which the bad guy answers, "Because I'm a villain, pure and simple!"

C'mon!  Who holds Kermit at gun-point?

Well, my God is a good guy, pure and simple.

My God created a perfect world, a world full of people who make choices like He does.  When we mess it up, that does not mean He did anything wrong. He hasn't abandoned us, but keeps on offering right-now relationship and forgiveness to everyone...even the really, really bad guys.  (And btw, we're all badder than we think.  Ever hated someone?  You know, like brothers-in-law who murder their mothers?  Yeah, well Jesus said hating someone is murdering them in your heart.  Oh snap...)

I haven't given up, because I have this little thing called Hope. My God gives me a dried-in-blood promise that things won't be messed up forever; that He's going to wipe away pain, suffering, tears, injustice, hatred, and all evil.  Instead there will be joy, friendships, peace, excitement, wholeness, and pure love...forever.  (But why isn't that amazing eternity now?  I've asked that question in anguish many times.  But the more I think about it, the more I suspect He's the one patiently leaving room for us to step up and become the change in today we want to see.  I just might have to act on my convictions about the wrongs in the world!  Oh snap...)

Writing is one of my favorite art forms, but today I've had a really hard time using words to express my feelings about all of this.  Maybe word-pictures are better!  As it so happens, completely apart from all the thinking I've been doing about this, Jay--with some help from the kids--came up with the word pictures below, which I'd like to share.

The bottom line is this:  Whatever happens in my life, I know I'll get through all the hows because I'm already convinced of Who the Good Guy is.  And that's why I'm not giving up. 

Doin' Good, 10 March 2013

Today before church, at three separate moments, people asked how I was doing and I answered cheerfully, "Good!"  They looked visibly surprised, tilting their heads slightly and raising their eyebrows.  Ha.  It seems people have gotten used to me answering "Okay," or "Today's a hard day," or "That's a complicated question."  And for good reason!

But today I really am doin' good (or "doing well," for those of you who appreciate non-colloquially-correct grammar).  The sun is shining, my wedding-to-funeral ratio for this calendar year is 2-1, and I've spent some wonderful time this week out in nature.

The first nature trek was another snow day, but this time my dad joined us.  When I was young, my family would do at least one snow day every winter, and my dad's the one who taught us how to dress and play to avoid cold, wet, and misery.  This past Friday was the first time I'd been to the snow with my dad for about a decade, and it was my kids' very first time going with him!

We had a blast playing, and my heart filled up with happyjuice seeing the snow-laden foliage, hearing the patter of falling snow off trees, and feeling the soft scrunch of drifts under my boots.

Plus, my kids are adorable in snow hats.  (So is my dad, in his own manly way.)

Hey, how come I don't get to ride?

Will G fly off the edge of the cliff?  No, Grandpa will catch him.  And hit him with a giant snowball at the same time.

The drive itself to and from the mountains was absolutely gorgeous, now that the grasses are green and orchards are beginning to bloom.  We got home at around 4 in the afternoon, long enough for me to throw dinner together, throw snow clothes in the laundry, and let Grandpa and the kids recover from the exertion of throwing snowballs.  My dad drove back to his house after dinner, and I'm pretty sure he slept loooong and hard that night.

The next day, Saturday, Jay and the kids and I had a leisurely morning capped off by Jay taking the boys out to do lunch and some errands, leaving me--drum roll please--all alone!!!

I considered pulling weeds, shoe shopping, writing letters, and sleeping, but in the end decided on taking a drive into the hills by myself and having a prayer/nature walk.  I checked on a map some side-roads I'd noticed on our way to the snow, and discovered there was an intriguing little road in the hills leading to a reservoir.

A sack lunch went into my backpack, an uplifting playlist came out of my iPod, and I was off.  

Just beginning the rise up from the valley, a line of cows graze along creek bluffs.

The stream and the glowing grass both sparkle.

After a glorious hour of driving (the last 5 miles of which were on a barely-paved one-lane road), I pulled off the road and walked the rest of the way to the reservoir, snapping pictures and praying as I went.  Perhaps beauty in nature doesn't affect everyone this way, but my heart feels so much closer to God, so much more receptive to the reality of His love and care, when I am surrounded by beautiful things He's created.

A barely-paved road of adventure...

...shared only by this group of cyclists and the rare SUV.  The valley floor is visible at the horizon.

This outcropping of rocks near my parking spot made a perfect high point for finding cell signal.

They were fun to climb!

View of the road from the top of the outcropping.

Birds must love having a roof like this!

When I pulled off the road, I actually didn't know how far it was to the reservoir; I hadn't looked that closely at the map.  But I quit driving because my eye was on the gas tank indicator, and I didn't feel like adding the "adventure" of running out of gas to my day.  So I decided to walk for as long as I wanted to, enjoying the views around me without being preoccupied by any particular destination.

A trickle of a stream runs through the bottom of this little gorge.

The micro-landscapes are amazing too!  These lichens and mosses are growing on a huge granite boulder.

Wild blackberries swallow everything in their path.

A gate: To keep cows inside or cyclists out?

After about 30 minutes of walking and taking pictures, a pickup hauling a dripping boat drove passed me, suggesting to me that I was not far from the reservoir.  Sure enough, ten more minutes of walking brought me suddenly into wide-open, windy spaces, with the lake's little white-capped waves lapping at the shore.

I'm guessing the brownish color is due to a stirring-up by recent storms.

A great view for cleaning fish, if you're into that kind of thing!

Even though the walk back was a return by the same road, the scenery looked a little different going the other direction.  And it took my breath away to find gaps in the trees that revealed valley views I'd had my back to before.

Can you make out that very faint, thin blue line at the top of the valley's green horizon? Those are the hills all the way on the other side of the valley.  Thrilling!

It's been fun to share these photographs from my adventure with you!  I'm sure those of you who are still locked in snowscapes will appreciate the greens; and maybe this can be a reminder for the rest of us to get outside and enjoy them.  :-)

Twelve Years of Memories, 31 October 2012

Today I am thinking about my mother-in-law.  Today marks twelve months since we learned that she had been killed; and although she officially died on October 30th, the 31st is the day I began mourning for her.

Everyone grieves differently, and Jay was telling me that he didn't feel any particular extra grief approaching this date, but it helps me to take some time to sit down and remember her, so even though my brain would probably be better off in bed at this early hour, my heart needs to be here.

My first memory of Mom—as I called her from the first point I joined their family—is a bit fuzzy, to be honest.  I remember seeing Jay's family join him in our university dining hall for breakfast one weekend.  At the time, Jay and I were peripheral friends, belonging to the same Bible study but running in different social circles, but it was always fun to see families of fellow students.  The reason my first memory of Mom is fuzzy is because I was so shocked by how much Jay's dad looked and acted like him.  I can still see Dad standing by the salad bar, and me feeling slightly freaked out at their similarity.

The next memory happened about a year later, during our Sophomore year.  Jay invited a few friends to his family's home for a movie and snacks one evening, and amusingly, my memory of Mom is eclipsed by Jay's dad here, too!  At the time, I was “watching” Jay, trying to figure out if he had more-than-just-friends feelings toward me, and during the movie night his dad chatted me up a bit and enthusiastically pointed out how much the family dog seemed to like me.  (Real subtle, Dad, haha!)  But I know Mom was there in the background, making sure everyone was comfortable and well-fed.

Fast-forward about six months; and it's not that my next memory of Mom is fuzzy, it's that I don't think I actually saw her at all.  I was preparing to go abroad for a semester, and in the month before I left, I took a walk with Jay one afternoon to have a good long DTR (“define the relationship”).  It was about dinner time when we finished up our conversation, and he popped into his house for a minute before I drove away.  When he came back out he said, “My mom would like to invite you to stay for dinner!  She's cooking lamb.”  Although I declined the invitation, I felt incredibly warmed that she would think to include me in their family meal (and maybe I should have stayed—I love lamb!).

Memory Number Four again takes place in our university dining hall.  This time, Jay and I were not peripheral friends: It was the morning of our first date, which would be taking place that evening.  His family joined him for breakfast, and he invited me to sit with them.  Enter here my first memory of Mom's smile!  She smiled so warmly at me throughout the meal...she was so happy that Jay was so happy, and I was happy too, and I love remembering her happy beam.

Jay and I were engaged three wonderful months later, and that summer was full of taking turns driving to see each other on the weekends.  There were many meals Mom made for me during that time, and conversations about guest lists and bridesmaid dresses, and questions about apartment-shopping, and lots more smiles.  She looked beautiful at our wedding and I cherish the photos I have of her that day.

It would take many more paragraphs if I were to recount all my Mom Memories during the ensuing nine years.  She was there for  all the milestones: My senior recital, our graduations, buying our first car, moving to our first house, vacationing as a family.  Announcing to her the coming birth of her first grandchild is a highlight among firsts for sure!  Seven months later, she and Dad were at the hospital just hours after G's birth, and she became Nana.

G—and later Z—adored their Nana, and she them.  She watched G during the day once-a-week while I worked his first year, which reminds me of one of the things I appreciated so much about her.  Although Mom obviously had her preferred way of doing things and held her own opinions, she never told me what to do, or how to change my parenting.  Watching G during the day and then later having the boys over one night a week, she was always extremely conscientious in honoring our parenting decisions and techniques.  Meanwhile, she delighted in watching the kids grow, and her sparkling laugh would bubble over when describing or hearing about their latest antics.

As her only daughter-in-law, it was my privilege to do little things for her, too.  She loved it when I cooked for her.  :-)  We had dinners at our house every so often, plus the occasional lunch I'd whip out for her if she happened to be running errands in the area.  Mom and I really bonded over food.  Jay and his Dad were in it for the conversations, sometimes forgetting to notice what was on the table, but Mom and I shared an appreciation for good food.  When she cooked for me, I made sure to voice my enjoyment, and when I served her, she made me feel like a gourmet chef!  “This looks like it could be in a restaurant!” was her highest praise, and words that I treasured.

And then I was there for some of her milestones: Their new custom house, 30th wedding anniversary, the birthdays and deaths of a number of her close family members.

But as many memories as I have of Mom, she beat me by having the first memory of the two of us.  A few years after Jay and I were married, Mom shared the following story with me.

“It was your first semester of college, and Jay took us into the dorm to introduce us to people.  In the dorm lounge, you and two other girls were sitting next to each other on a couch.  Jay told us your names and we moved on to the next thing.  The next year, when Jay sat with me and said, 'Mom, there's a girl at school I think I could be very good friends with,' I saw that couch with the three girls on it in my mind, and Rachel, your face lit up in my memory and I prayed, 'Oh Lord, please let it be her!'”

Mom, I cannot believe how blessed I have been to be called your daughter.  I so wish we could have had more firsts and seconds and thirds together, and I hate that we have lasts.  Thank you for loving me so much, even before you really knew me or knew how I would fit in your family.  I'm so glad you will always be part of mine.

Untangling My Brain, 21 August 2012

Today I woke up with a lot on my mind.  Maybe writing about it will help me sift through the stuff swirling around in my brain.  Oo, I know--I'll make a list.  Lists are awesome.

• I want to get away with Jay.  Far away, like for maybe two weeks.  Using the excuse of our 10th wedding anniversary, I'm trying to figure out if we can swing it.  Jay keeps telling me that what other people do or think doesn't matter, but I keep having this little voice in the back of my mind saying, "It's only the 10th.  People don't go on big vacations unless it's their 25th or 30th."  Being afraid of what other people think is one of the things I do best, so I'm working through that.
• When--and I'll say when and not if--Jay and I get away, how can we fit in all the things we want to do in the amount of time and money we have?  That's where creativity comes in.
• Yesterday I went to a new craft store that opened in my city.  The store's pretty awesome, but I had a very unexpected reaction as I browsed the aisles: I wanted to cry!  Didn't see that coming.  Maybe because I wish I were a craftier person?  Maybe because it reminded me of projects we did as kids...with my mom?  Sigh.
• While at the craft store, I started thinking about Christmas.  Kinda hard not to when hundreds of square feet are dedicated to holiday decor and merchandise.  Who in my family will be together this year?  Will we be at my house?  Will I want to put up stockings for everyone, or only the people who are present?
• My mom's parents are moving out of their house of 50 years this fall, and I'm having a hard time imagining life without my grandparents in that house.  The thick, soft carpet; the mirrored hall; the aroma of Old Spice and coffee; the brick fireplace; the floral bathroom wall paper and stained-glass dining room window.  Until the past few years, my family had every Christmas day there.  Hard to imagine Christmas without Grandma and Grandpa's house.
• Of course, we'll still be able to visit them...in their assisted-living apartment.  What will that be like?  It's a place I associate with my quiet, sweetly-wrinkled great-grandma, and I remember Christmases there, too. Every year growing up, the day after Christmas was a large family gathering with extended family in the community's club house.  It smelled like bleach and hard carpet (well, it did).  Will my grandparents' new place smell like bleach and carpet, or will it have the familiar scent of Old Spice and coffee?  I'm guessing Old Spice will win out, and that is comforting.

Now it's time to get the kids breakfast, and I haven't finished my list.  Other topics of note are a murder trial, an estate sale of my mom's things, the one-year anniversary of my mil's death, G starting first grade, being alone with Z during the mornings, a fall garden crop.

Thankfully, all this stuff does take a back burner when held up against my current desire for pancakes, which is rapidly overtaking all other thoughts in my brain.  Let me remind myself: I am taking life one day at a time.  Glad I acknowledged today's thoughts, but I'm not going to make them all today's concerns.

Hmmmm, buttermilk or sweet?  Butter and syrup...