Stalwart and brave

I just got back from a walk with Marianne (Olivia was busy).  We saw Hannah and Aunt Olivia and hugged and chatted a minute.  I have run out of ways to say how much I love it here.

Yesterday Marianne and Olivia and I walked on the bridle path along Boulder Creek.  We were talking about rings and I mentioned the ring my dad had made me on the occasion of my first date. Olivia said, “What?!?  He didn’t make me anything for my first date!”  

Marianne said, “He made me a necklace for my first date.”

Olivia said, “What?!?”

I said, “I guess you’re not his favorite like you always think you are.”

We stopped at my dad’s because I had to use the bathroom.  We walked in the door and I called, “Hi Daddy!  I need to use the bathroom and Olivia has a bone to pick with you.”

When I came out of the bathroom, Olivia was sketching on a piece of paper how she wants my dad to fashion her ring, which broke, into a pendant for a necklace.  She said that would make up for not getting first date jewelry.

I know my dad loves us, but collectively, we are kind of a lot.

My phone has ceased to get along with Adam’s iPad so I can’t add a picture of the statue I got from my mother.  It had been my grandma’s. (On the bottom, my grandma had written Coralee so that it got to its rightful place.) It is a statue of a woman kneeling in prayer.   Both of my grandmas actually used to have the exact same statue (my Aunt Olivia has Grandma Dahl’s).  

 I love the statue because it reminds me of my childhood and visiting my faithful grandmothers.  They were women who prayed.  I love that the statue was passed to my mom and then to me.  My grandma taught my mom to pray and she passed that to me.

Firm as the mountains around us, stalwart and brave they stand on the rock our [mothers] planted for us in the goodly land.

I have been feeling incredibly grateful for my life and all the blessings I have because my grandparents taught my parents and they taught me.  I don’t deserve any of it, but I feel very lucky to have landed where I did.  I feel motivated to follow the examples they left.  I don’t want to let them down.  I don’t want to live below their expectations.

I also miss my mom so much it hurts.  Going through her things is like reopening a wound.  There is also a sting of finality about it.  We have questions.  We want to know more about everything she knew about.  I don’t know what to do about the questions.  Where did you get this?  What is the story behind that?

I was looking at the things I brought home yesterday.  There are valuable pieces of jewelry that were my grandma’s, there are beautiful silver pieces my dad engraved, there are all sorts of things anyone would treasure as well as things that are treasures to only us.

One thing I have is a little tool my mom used for quilting.  I picked it up off the table when it was my turn to pick something.  

I would give anything to spend an afternoon quilting with my mom.