Weekend

Can you go on a family history bender?  Is that a thing?

On Friday I was dutifully putting in a little time cleaning up files on my old computer (I hate boring tasks like that!) and I came across the file of the book I compiled for my grandma Jaynes's 80th birthday.  I had pestered everyone for months to write her letters but it felt worth it.  Some of the letters weren't there and some were in the wrong order, but I pulled out the book we gave to my grandma of all the letters and I typed up what was missing.

I also typed up the notes that the kids wrote.  I love these (and the people who wrote them):

I cried through reading some of the tributes to my grandma.  My mom's letter was beautiful as she outlined some of the amazing things my grandma did for her.  I was reminded when reading Olivia's letter of a song I need to teach QE.  Every letter spoke of her love, support, example, generosity and the fun that she brought to everything.

I want to be her when I grow up.

Once I had compiled the whole thing, I put it on Family Search.  I love having things on either my blog or Family Search.  Fire proof and flood proof.  

Another task I wanted to tackle this summer was organizing the box my aunt Jennifer gave me.  She said, "If you get the house, you get the box."  It was full of photos and newspaper clippings and other random documents and it was kind of a jumble.

I went through everything.  I sorted through things I thought some of my aunts and uncles and cousins might want (and I wanted to get it done before the reunion in July when I will see them).  I put all the pictures in an album.  I made an appointment at the Lehi Family History Center to scan some of the pictures.  I want to make a Snapfish book.  I put all the newspaper clippings in one box and all of the other stuff in another box and put one picture in a frame.

See the messy kitchen in the background?  This is what happens when I get obsessed with a project.

I snapped several pictures and sent them to my family along the way.  I think they're probably glad I'm finished so I'll leave them alone.

I loved this article about my grandpa as a mission president.  

This is from an article about him when he managed Deseret Ranches in Florida:

It was the little details like his familiar pocket full of stuff that made me miss him.

Also, the way he was sitting on this horse.  It was so like him!

These pictures are from their 50th wedding anniversary party.

I loved just poring over the faces of everyone and I love seeing the inside and outside of the house that burned when I was 16.

That is probably why I think about having my pictures in a fire proof location.

It didn't take them long to rise from the ashes.  Here they are and it kind of blows my mind that I now have that kitchen.

I could try my whole life and never look as classy as they do though. (Also, can you inherit a favorite color?  Is my love of red in my DNA?)

This picture is from their 60th wedding anniversary.  My grandma is on the verge of tears and that is where I get it!

I loved hearing her voice in the captions and handwritten notes.  I loved all the pictures she took of her flowers. They reminded me that although she would have rather stayed on their ranch in Nevada, she moved to Virginia, South Dakota and Florida with my grandpa.  Support of him and a desire to serve where called were her guiding lights.

The whole experience left me feeling very grateful.  My patriarchal blessing instructs me to be guided by my happy childhood.  When I think of my parents and grandparents, I feel so grateful that those wonderful people were the architects of my happy childhood.

I miss my grandparents.  Maybe I miss my grandpa Jaynes the most.  He died when I was 1 year old but his influence echos in my life.  My mom told me one time, "He loved you so much!"

They all four did.  What a blessing to know that!  I am looking forward to seeing them all again someday.  Of all the legacies they left me:  Grandpa Dahl's charisma and self confidence, Grandma Dahl's loyalty and kindness, Grandma Jaynes's generosity and support, Grandpa Jaynes's love of learning, the legacy I value most from each of them is their faith in Jesus Christ.  I stand on the rock they planted.

I'm not over it

Talking over with my mom about the destination of my grandmother's belongings, I want everything.  And the house. Please and thank you.  I want to keep it all intact exactly how my grandma left things, maybe cordoned off with some velvet ropes like a museum.

But not really.  

What I really want is my grandma.

I want to sit with my feet dangling from a barstool while I eat pop tarts and chat with her while she bustles around her kitchen.

I want to try to keep up with her at the mall during marathon shopping trips.

I want to pore over the newspaper, trying to decide which "show" to go see.

I want her to show me one more time how to frost a cake so it looks nice.

I want her to show me one more time how to make her Thanksgiving stuffing.

I want to sit next to her during one of my siblings' basketball games and be a little mortified by how invested she is.

I want her to micromanage me decorating the Christmas tree because it matters.

I want to hear her call me "honey" and hear her introduce me to someone as her "little namesake."

I want to play Rook with her and eat her Swiss steak.  I want to eat vegetables that taste delicious because she has drowned them in butter.

I want her to insist I have candy and ice cream and scold me for not giving Adam a bigger piece of pie.

I want to read her handwriting on a card for me.

I want to call her or have her call me.

I want to hear about "the game" and pretend I even know which game she is talking about.

I want just one more hug and kiss.

I want my grandma.

I love my grandma the best

My grandma's funeral was on Saturday.  It was a wonderful bittersweet weekend.

I met Braeden's family and Emma for a quick dinner and then we went to McDougal's funeral home.  It had to be McDougal's funeral home because my grandma said so.  Besides the fact that they did all her family's funerals, they were once her home teachers.  

The viewing was there and I got to reconnect with aunts and uncles and cousins.  At one point, I was talking to three cousins who are brothers, Cory, Bryce and Devin and I looked around at their salt and pepper beards and said, "You guys are grownups!" 

Cory said, "Well, Thelma, you're a grandma!"

I know.  But still.  As one of the oldest cousins, it's a little shocking that they're grownups overnight....

I looked at pictures and got a little bit misty eyed at the slideshow of pictures of Grandma.  My children and Adam tell me that it's OK that I'm sad.  It feels a little ridiculous to be sad; I can't explain why except that I'm nearly 50 and my grandma was 95 so how did I not see this coming?

I am sad. A huge part of my entire life has included my grandma.  She was all the things the best grandmas are.  She was always 100% in my corner, 100% classy and refined, 100% generous and kind, 100% an example of goodness.

When I turn 50, it will be the first time in my life my grandma has not sung to me on my birthday.

We went to my grandma's house after the viewing to visit and the Johnson girls were assembling boutonnieres for the pallbearers.  I picked up my grandma's Bible that was on the little table next to her chair.  I looked through it, reading some of her notes and the scriptures she had marked.  I loved just feeling it in my hands.  I love the righteous woman it represents.

I love being at Grandma's house but it makes me a little sad. I know I'll go back; I want to go and help my mom with the project of All the Stuff.  It isn't going to be the same.  Things won't be where she left them.  It will be less and less her house, until it isn't her house at all.

And I love that house.  I love the way I always felt there.  I felt loved and welcomed and like my very presence was a gift, when really I was the one getting the gift (and being entreated to eat candy or ice cream or at the very least some cashews).

My sisters and I practiced our song that my grandma wanted us to sing at the funeral, along with the wise additions of Emma and Clarissa.  Liberty was our accompanist.

Saturday we practiced again before the funeral.  We were in the primary room and I heard our good family friends, the Knudsens, out in the hall.  They grew up knowing my grandma and had come all the way from Elko, Nevada for her funeral.  It made me a little teary and that was kind of it for me.  I lost it when Tabor said the family prayer before the funeral; I cried a little when we sang (even though I tried to think neutral thoughts like Emma advised).  At one point I asked Marianne the state of my eye makeup and she said, "It's gone."  So I didn't need to worry about that any more.

I cried when my cousin Melanie delivered the eulogy and ended by singing the song Grandma sang to her that she also sang to me, "I love my grandma the best.  I love my grandma the best.  Of all the people in the west, I love my grandma the best!"

It was the kind of propaganda that I need to pass on to my granddaughter.

I enjoyed hearing the loving tributes about my grandma.  My mom told about her service in the church and how she'd had many callings, but the one that she wanted us to remember was that she had been a stake YW president and had to go to girls' camp and she hated camping, but she went anyway.

Her blood is in my veins and I even share her name, so if she could go to girls' camp, I feel like I can square my shoulders and do hard things too.

After the funeral we went to the Murray City Cemetery where my grandpa is also buried.  Here's my no-longer-little-kids cousins and brother being the pallbearers.

Craig, Cory, Devin and Bryce Jaynes are on the left, Brett Jaynes is in the back, then Will Jaynes, Enoch Dahl, Michael Rudelich and Shawn Jaynes are on the right.

My dad dedicated the grave and Braeden and Emma and Mark sang a song.

After that, we went back to the church for a nice dinner provided by the ward Relief Society and my grandma.  She left instructions that she wanted Honeybaked ham served at her funeral and she wanted to buy it.

She wasn't about to have some cut rate ham served.

I know I've said a lot of words about my grandma.  And I also know that it doesn't even begin to cover it.  I'll leave it by saying this:  I treasure the legacy of love she left me.  I want to carry it onward.  

Grateful Friday

Yesterday my mom texted that my grandma rallied once she was home and was "ruling the roost."

I wouldn't want it any other way.

We went to visit in the early evening.  I saw two aunts, an uncle, two cousins and my mom.  And of course, my sweet grandma.

Adam and Mark and Steve and Michael moved a queen sized bed from downstairs up for whoever was there for the night to stay in going forward.  I pretended like I was in charge of the furniture moving.

I started to tell my grandma about a trade the Jazz had made, but I could only remember one of the names, so that wasn't too helpful.

My grandma struggles a lot to talk right now.  There was a social worker there at one point and she was trying really hard to say something to him and he didn't understand.

I said, "She's saying that I'm named after her."

I've never been anywhere with my grandma or met anyone, without her telling them that.

I wouldn't want it any other way.

I got my grandma a small dish of jello for her to try to eat.  She wanted to say a blessing before she ate.  I couldn't understand all the words she said, but I did hear her praying for people.

My love for her is too big to be contained and it keeps coming out my eyes.

A cup of good cheer

Yesterday we visited my grandma.  

The whole great great grandma thing is kind of astounding.  I can't imagine Eleanor bringing her granddaughter to visit me someday....

Sweet Ella was as good as gold.  She slept in the car, a shorter than usual nap, but she woke up happy just like her dad always did.  She was friendly and busy, but didn't touch all the things she was not supposed to touch, but wanted to.

Grace under pressure.

We hurried home to get ready for our dinner party.  Clarissa (Timeon had to work), Liberty and Nikki, Shuyan and Carolina came over for dinner.

Also, the most bizarre thing happened while we were scrambling to get ready.  I had just wrangled Mark to help me move furniture to set up the tables and there was a knock on the door.  It was a girl about Mark's age, wearing a dress and high heeled strappy sandals.  It was not exactly the weather for that outfit.  She was visibly shaken and said, "Is Mark here?  It is an emergency."

I got Mark and she said, "John was in a car accident and I can't drive."

Mark looked a little taken aback, but said, "OK," and left immediately with her.

Anna and Braeden and I puzzled about the whole situation.  Who was John and who was this girl and how did she get to our house in the first place?

Mark called a bit later.  He had as many questions as we did.  He met John a few weeks ago, playing Magic with his friends.  He had invited the whole gang to his birthday dinner so John and his girlfriend had come.  The girlfriend had the address of our house since Mark had texted the group the address.  He's known both of them for about two weeks.  He never got much more of the story.  He took the girl home and I'm glad he was ready and able to be a helper.

But it was bizarre.

Our guests arrived and it was so fun to see them all!

I regret that I didn't take a picture.

We had dinner and Braeden asked Clarissa all about the Tabernacle Choir, which that amazing girl is now a part of.  He talked German politics with Shuyan.  She delighted and charmed us like she does.  Liberty and I chatted a bit about school and Carolina and I a bit about The Home Edit, of which we're both fans.  After dinner, Eleanor went to bed and the rest of us went to the basement to visit.  We talked about books and the cosmos and lego sets and Braeden shared a brief FHE lesson (it included the cosmos).  I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

Adult nieces and nephews are every bit as fun as adult children (Carolina is not quite an adult, but she's fabulous).

Grateful Friday

Yesterday was my Grandma and Grandpa Dahl's birthday.  They share a birthday, just like Adam and I do. (Theirs are five years apart, but Adam and I are the same year too.)

I always think of my grandparents on July 7 because more often than not, it seemed like a holiday when we were growing up.  We'd always have a family party sometime around July 4-July 7.  Often there would be two birthday cakes, one for each grandparent.

I thought about my grandparents yesterday.  I think about them a lot since we bought their house and are renovating it.

Yesterday I was cleaning the laundry room and eyeing a vase that is in the basement.  I wondered how it would look in the house in Starr Valley.  (I seem to mentally parse our belongings into which I want to keep here and which I want to take there.) 

I had the thought, which I often do, wondering what they would think of it all.  Do they approve of us buying the house?  Making it our own?

It could not have been any clearer to me if someone stood next to me and spoke the words:  They don't care.  They just want you to be good.

I felt like crying from the joy of that statement.  Because I knew it was true.

  

It's true about my children and grandchild.  I don't care about much else.  I'm grateful to remember that some things matter more than others.

Seven squared

Yesterday was our birthday and it was a good day. I started it by seeing my parents!  They had stayed with us the night before and when I went downstairs for my breakfast, my mom was there, in a chair, waiting to say happy birthday.

You can turn 49 and it still feels more complete to see your mom and dad on your birthday.

They also took us to dinner the night before, which was very nice.  They went to Pride and Prejudice at BYU.  They loved watching Freja too!

On Monday, one of my students asked me what my favorite candy bar was.  I told her peanut m and m's.  She asked me what my favorite drink was.  I said, "Diet Coke."  She recorded both answers in a notebook.

She apparently spread the word because several students handed me diet coke or peanut m and m's when they walked in the door.  She's the same student that organizes other people's desks if they want her to.  She will make a great Relief Society president someday.

I also loved the already loved on pink bear...

Jamie gave me an Anne of Green Gables cursive writing book.  She said it was perfect for a 3rd grade teacher who was a kindred spirit.

Janelle hung a balloon on my door and gave me a gift card and treat.

There were cards in my box and the principal, vice principal and secretary sang to me.

Elementary schools are where it's at.  Almost always.  You get together that many (mostly women) who nurture for a living, they're going to be nice to you on your birthday.

I brought my class ice cream (which they'd earned as a reward) and birthday cake oreo cookies.  I also milked it being my birthday all day long.  

For example, when they wondered why I wouldn't unblock youtube during their few minutes of free time at the end of the day I said, "It's my birthday and I don't want to."

One of them said, "After all we've done for you!"

(He's not one that brought me anything, but maybe he felt like it had been a group effort.)

I said, "Even after all you've done for me.  It's my birthday."

Another of them said, "And she's the boss."

After school, my grandma called.  She wished me a happy birthday and Adam as well.  We chatted for a few minutes about me being a grandma, and her being a great-great-grandma.  We were about to hang up, and I started crying. 

She said, "Honey, what's wrong?!?"

I said, "Nothing, I just have to tell you.  I want to be like you.  When I think of what kind of grandma I want to be, it is like you."

I hope I can be.

My friend, Marie-Louise, teases me because one year Adam and I celebrated our birthday by going to Costco.  I think we eclipsed that glamorous destination this year though, we went to Target optical.

The day before, when my parents were there, my glasses broke.  My mom said, "Well, luckily, your dad is here."

He inspected the problem and said, "I'll go get my glue."

The man travels with superglue.

He repaired my glasses, but I decided it was time to face the truth that I really need new glasses.  I not only need frames that aren't crumbling, but I need progressives that make reading up close easier.

"But Grandmother, what big glasses you have!"

"The better to see you with my dear."

There were two pairs I was deciding between.  Adam took pictures and I said, "Text Emma."

The guy asked, "Your daughter?"

I love that that was predictable.  How wonderful to have a daughter!

Matriarchs

I remember one night in Connecticut.  Adam and Braeden were sleeping and Emma and I were not.  She was a newborn bundle of pink goodness...but not sleeping.

I was sitting in our rocking chair, rocking her.  Her tiny fingers were wrapped around one of my fingers.  As I sat there in the dim light, looking down at our hands, I thought about my mother, rocking her babies in other dim light.  I thought about both my grandmothers and their mothers, in different rocking chairs, in other dim light, on and on up the family tree. I felt linked to them in this common work of nurturing babies.  I considered that maybe someday Emma would be rocking her own baby.

I am grateful for my matriarchs.  They are noble women who loved their children well.

Yesterday, for Braeden's birthday, both my mom and grandma called me because they were trying to track Braeden down.  (He was in class...I too had been trying to track him down.)  My mom, Geri, and my grandmas showed me how to be a grandma.  They love their grandchildren well.

In the brief conversation I had with my grandma last night, she thanked me again for the Christmas gift.  Then she mentioned the past several Christmas presents I've given her and thanked me for each one.  If there's something I can guarantee in this world, it is that my grandma loves me.

My grandma Dahl loves me too.  She showed her love in kind words, showing up and making things for me. If I ever made a statement, she'd remark emphatically, agreeably, "Well, I'll say!"  Is there anything nicer?  My children are also assured of their grandmothers' love.  That, in turn, makes me feel loved.

So much love.

Where does it stop? 

It doesn't.

When Liberty and Nikki were married, when they were looking into the mirrors in the celestial room, I considered my granddaughter.  I considered generations extending on both sides.  How can I hold so much love?

I can't.

It leaks out my eyes.

I'm grateful for my matriarchs.  They hold the line.  They rock the babies and make the quilts and place the phone calls and give the compliments.  They've shown me how to grandmother.

I hope I can measure up.

Now, pardon me while I post excessive pictures....

Geri leading the charge of whitewater rafting

 This picture kind of makes me laugh because my grandma and I both look so unhappy.  We weren't.  Adam just looks handsome and SO YOUNG!

Pikkujoulu

Grandkids night

My mom's summer party

A fake snowstorm at the Vancouver Aquarium

At a scout function honoring Linn

Braeden and me visiting Grandma and Grandpa Dahl

Grandma Jaynes, surrounded by great grandchildren

Grandma and Grandpa Jaynes; Marianne and me

Great Grandma Jaynes, me and a bunch of second cousins

my mom giving us a tour in Nauvoo

the girls, posing where the Relief Society began

my mom, surrounded by granddaughters

My grandparents

A few days ago, Braeden sent some snippets from my Grandpa Dahl's life story.  First of all, I'm so glad that we have the life stories of all my grandparents and I'm very grateful to my mom for her hand in making that happen.

The stories are a blessing in our lives.

I love this:

Margaret is my Grandma Dahl and Homer is my Grandpa Jaynes.  I love that they knew each other and I love that my grandpa was mindful of my grandma.  Grandpa Jaynes died before I could remember him and each little story I hear about him is a treasure.  It pieces together a picture of what he was like.

I look forward to meeting him again some day.

Braeden also sent this:

I do have a lot memories of both my dear Grandma and Grandpa Dahl.  I know enough to know that my grandpa did try to be a good man and I saw evidence in the way they lived their lives that they loved their Heavenly Father.

Their goodness propelled them along during hard and good times.

I'm grateful for the legacy of all my grandparents and grateful we have records so my children can know too.

I agree with my grandpa:  sometimes our blessings are so abundant that we can't quite comprehend them.

Four of my incomprehensible blessings are Harvey and Margaret Dahl and Homer and Thelma Jaynes.

Happy days

 It was a busy weekend.

Friday we celebrated our graduates.   I made cupcakes and Geri tied pirouette cookies with ribbons to look like diplomas.

It was small scale but we had a theme and we were running with it.

My parents and my grandma and the Carlsons came to celebrate with us.  

We watched the virtual convocation.  

Heather, my former laurel and Emma's roommate spoke because she was the valedictorian of the political science college (yay Heather!). 

They scrolled through pictures and names of graduates and neither Braeden nor Anna were listed!  

Braeden logged into his account to make sure he had graduated.

They graduated.  So they tossed their caps in the air.

We had a lovely time eating lunch and visiting.  We took a few pictures.

My sweet grandma will be 94 next month!  Every time I see her feels like a gift.

My parents don't look all that happy in this picture, but they were happy.  I think there were too many phones and it was hard to know who to smile for.

Here are the two grandmas who graduated from BYU 50 years ago this spring (both in accounting).

Anna went to Les Miserables with a former roommate so we babysat Braeden.  Anna said not to give him too much sugar.

It was nice to have Braeden with us but weird without Anna.  We watched part of the Mariners' game and then we all went out for pizza.  Braeden and Emma and Mark sat at one end of the table and were engrossed in their conversation, which I love.

Saturday was moving day for Emma.  Geri and I went early to help her pack.  Adam joined us and we filled two vans with her stuff.  (How and why?)  We left her with Heather to clean.  

Emma came later, exhausted but happy to be home.  We're happy to have her.  She still has a few classes this spring before she graduates but her apartment contract was up and we're glad she's back.

Sunday was a busy day of meetings and the like.  I played a few hands of Phase 10 with the group but then I stopped because I can only handle so much of a slow moving card game.

This morning it's back to real life on a rainy Monday.

But I don't have recess duty, so there are silver linings everywhere.

Holiday weekend

Such a nice time.  It was the perfect mix of getting ready for Christmas, resting and spending time together.

I did some online shopping, tied ribbons on gifts we already have, and we decorated for Christmas.  Well, mostly.  We haven't done our big tree yet and we need to switch our regular dishes for our Christmas dishes.  (Christmas dishes make me happy.)

I am steadily feeling better, but I am still trying to preserve energy when I can so I had Mark and Emma carry all the boxes up and down the stairs and I was just the boss.  Doing the actual decorating was really fast.  Mark handled all the up on the ladder stuff and he doesn't mind when I say, "Move it port side!" because that is easier for me than right and left.

My kids think I'm crazy but having a weird mom builds character.

Emma wasn't here to help decorate last year and it was a huge difference having her back.  Arranging things is one of the few things I'm very picky about and she always does it to my satisfaction.  She also keeps Mark in line.

For example, we were decorating the small living room tree and Mark was just sitting on the couch and throwing ornaments at it and Emma put a stop to that.  

Friday night both kids were at work and Adam and I had a top secret purchase to make in Salt Lake City (our kids don't read this blog but what if they start today?).  Adam said there was a German restaurant he wanted to take me to.

It was called Bohemian Brewery and that confused me because I think of Bohemian style when I think of Bohemian and this place was decorated in an Alpine ski lodge way and served things like schnitzel and brats.

Adam said Bohemia was a place and I didn't know that (there could be volumes written of things Adam knows that I don't). So we googled it, like you do, while we were waiting for our food and learned that Bohemia is a German speaking part of the Czech Republic.  Also, the food was delicious.  

Saturday I pulled out some felt and Emma and I cut circles for tree skirts.  She has a little tree in her apartment and I wanted a tree skirt for my little tree in my classroom.  She was going back to her apartment Saturday night to watch an edited version of The Shining for her horror film class.  Why she would take a horror film class is completely bonkers but she didn't ask me.  I showed her how to blanket stitch and do a running stitch with candy cane striped embroidery floss so she could work on it while she watched.  She wanted to embroider snowflakes.  I said, "You're artistic so you'll figure that out easily."

Before Emma went back to Provo, she joined Adam and me on a Trader Joe's stop.  For our regular grocery store shopping, I always have a list.  At Trader Joe's, anarchy reigns.  Peppermint JoJos, ginger scented hand cream, cedar balsam candle, peppermint meringues all got tossed in the cart with abandon.  Adam asked if we had a reason to buy lemon curd.  I said yes.

Because lemon curd.

Later in the evening Emma texted me this.

I don't think I've ever taught her anything that she didn't immediately become better at than me.

Yesterday evening Adam and I went back to Salt Lake to visit my grandma and my parents who were also in town.  We have had very few visits with my 93 year old grandma or my parents since the pandemic, but sometimes it just feels warranted.  We had a nice visit and ate pie (and my grandma chided me for not cutting bigger pie slices).

This morning I am back to school and I'm excited to see those little faces again.  I want to see their reaction to our Christmas tree.

Grateful Monday

We were gone on Friday--more on that later--so today, Grateful Monday.

I'm grateful for fathers.

I'm old enough to have a lot to be grateful for from my dad.  I have a whole lifetime of him being there when I needed him, his wisdom and wit, him fixing everything that needed fixing.  I'm grateful that I get all those things from him still.  When we were there a few weekends ago, my classroom stapler that had been broken was sitting on the counter for me to take home.  He'd fixed it.

Olivia took this picture of my parents recently:

I love how happy they are together.  The way my dad treats my mom and always has treated her is a lot to be grateful for.  He taught me what to expect and look for in a husband.

I'm grateful for Adam's dad, Linn.  We miss him.  Adam's sister posted this collection of pictures of him on Facebook yesterday:

I'm grateful for what he taught Adam and the example of goodness he was to me.  I'm grateful for the kind of grandpa he was and the relationships he forged with his grandchildren.  I'm grateful for him present tense too though.  I know he is aware of us.  I know he is proud of his children and grandchildren and I know he'd love to sit down with them and hear their big ideas.  He'd love to take them all on a bike ride or for a swim.  He'd love Anna with her red hair!  I'm grateful for the eternal nature of families and the knowledge I have that we will be together again.

I'm grateful for Adam.  I love remembering the way he used to read to our kids and the world he introduced them to.  He's alway provided an anchor for all of us.  As our children have grown, they don't need to be swung up onto his strong shoulders when they are tired, but they still need him.

He is the go to person when any of us are in a jam.  He has perfected the process of changing Mark's sensor and keeping his diabetic supplies ordered.  He listens to Mark's recounting of things that I for sure can't follow.  He talks about music and French with Emma.  He teaches her Finnish because she loves languages.  He talks politics and governments with Braeden.  He doggedly works hard to provide all the things for all of us.  He calls us together for scripture reading and prayer.

I'm grateful to my Heavenly Father for organizing us into families.  The world needs good fathers.

Memorial Day Weekend

Usually, we would be gathering at cemeteries in the Salt Lake Valley today, remembering our kindred dead.  Even though that isn't the plan, it's still in my heart.  My grandma is in my heart and the stories she has told me.

Emma and I went and visited her Thursday in honor of her 93 birthday.  It seems like a really bad idea to visit a 93 year old during this pandemic, but earlier in the week, I had been in her neighborhood and not stopped by.

She called me and said, "I'm not happy with you!"

It is the first time I've ever heard those words come out of her mouth and let me tell you, they made an impact.

I sputtered that I didn't think she'd want a visit and she insisted she did.

So Emma and I went.  We wore masks and sat across the room and neither hugged nor kissed nor got remotely close to Grandma.

Yesterday we had the distinctive honor of being dinner guests at Braeden and Anna's.  They made pizza, having perfected their crust recipe and method.  They even tinkered with a recipe Adam had made up and their modification was a good one.  After dinner we took a walk on the lovely tree lined Provo streets.  They are heading to Logan today to visit Anna's grandma.  Braeden asked us what we were doing today and we said we were doing chores around our house.

Braeden said he was glad that didn't involve him.  He said, "We did our chores Saturday."

We said, "So did we."

I guess we have more chores.

It hasn't been all work and no play though.  We watched Jane Eyre this weekend.  More of the family canon we're introducing Mark to.  As Emma said, "Those Brontes don't pull any punches do they?"

During our first night of viewing, Mark said something about Mr. Rochester having a wife.

Emma texted us this:

Because sometimes you text when you're sitting next to someone on the couch.

Rejoice

Maybe because I recently came across this picture of my grandparents on Family Search, or maybe because Elder Oaks reminded me so much of my grandpa last week...I don't know.

But I have been thinking about them.

By the way, I love that picture.  I think I mostly love the goats and I love my grandma's handwriting.  My dad wasn't born yet when the picture was taken but I asked him about the goats and he told me some goat stories.  I said, "I did not think Grandpa was the type of person who would have goats."

My dad said, "Well, he did."

I am one of many grandchildren and one of many girl cousins about the same age.  As such, I didn't ever have a lot of one on one time with my grandparents, but I always felt loved by them.  I had the good fortune of having them nearby for most of my growing up years.  We celebrated holidays together.  They'd come to our house for birthdays.  We would roast hot dogs over a fire in their yard on willow sticks that my brothers and/or boy cousins trimmed with their pocket knives at least once every summer.

I also heard them speak in church and I heard them pray.  I saw them serve in big and small, but always consistent, ways.

I saw them react to really hard things that happened to them (like their house burning down or people they loved making bad choices).  I am sure they had private times of discouragement but from my distance as one of many granddaughters, I never saw them downcast or in despair.  I saw them optimistic and full of faith.

The older I get, the more there seems to be a potential to be weighed down by sorrow and discouragement and disappointment.  The more people you love the more worried and anxious you can become for their welfare and choices.

President Nelson said (and I think my grandparents lived this):

The joy we feel has little to do with the circumstances of our lives and everything with the focus of our lives.

One of my favorite passages of scripture is the second half of 2 Nephi 4.  I have been thinking about this sentence from verse 28:

Rejoice, O my heart, and give place no more for the enemy of my soul.

Once upon a time, my grandparents hitched up two goats to a cart and bundled their young family up and took a picture.  Then they sent it as a Christmas card.  If that doesn't make my heart rejoice, I don't know what does.

Grateful Friday

Emma's surgery was a success.  The last two days have been incredibly long literally and metaphorically, but I know I have a lot to be grateful for.

I'm grateful for modern medicine.

I'm (you don't even know!) grateful she is home from France.

I'm grateful for the power of prayer and priesthood blessings.

I'm grateful for the sustaining power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ because sometimes I feel like I can't even and then I can.

I'm grateful for kind nurses who persist in kindness even when Emma is kind of grouchy (she's been in a lot pain).  I felt humbled when I overheard several conversations in the hall amongst the nurses about who was working on Christmas Day.  One happily said, "I don't have to come in until the afternoon so I'll have Christmas morning!"

I'm grateful we got a great surgeon.  He was not charming but all the nurses told us how lucky we were because he was the best.  One said, "Intimidating, but the best."

I'm grateful for a kind principal who texted me to do whatever I needed to do and not worry about it.  I'm grateful for my third grade team who sent me encouragement and promises that they had everything in hand.  I'm grateful for whoever substituted my class yesterday.  I know it wasn't easy.

While Adam tag teams the hospital scene, I'm going to go into school this morning.  I need to give my kiddos their gifts and hold up my end of the Christmas festivities. With my principal's blessing, I'm going to be a mom the rest of the day.  Emma may or may not get to come home today, depending on her lab results.

Those gallstones did a number on that girl.

I'm grateful for the support that reached over the phone when I talked to my parents and sisters.  I'm grateful for all of my families' texts and the gifs and memes from my brothers (mostly Ron Swanson related).

It all added up to feeling loved.

I'm grateful for my boys who love their sister and would do anything for her.  I'm grateful for the love we all feel from sweet Anna.  She is small in stature but large in heart.

I'm grateful for Adam.  He is a pillar of strength and generous with his insistence I go home and sleep while he takes the night shift.  I felt like a big wimp and a deserter but I was also dizzy and freezing cold and shaky and had a very sore throat.  We both knew I needed sleep and he made it happen.  He is who you want in any crisis.

I'm grateful for the Christmas season.  It is good timing for Emma and me to both have a break for her to convalesce and me to take care of her.  It is also good timing to stop and reflect on how grateful I am for Jesus Christ who sustains us all.

Father's Day

In church yesterday a speaker read this.  It's from a Mormon Message in 2013.  I love it.  

I'm awake.

I remember Him.

I gaze upon them before I part. They lie in their bed, unaware of me watching. I leave. They sleep.

The small home I help provide is their world. They play. They explore--learning to move, to feel, to see, to know--not once thinking of how it all came to be.

Crayons, toys, books--it's all for them.

The fridge opens, the pantry exposed. They expect food to be there. Not a thought. Not a doubt. Just hunger.

Cereal, milk, yogurt, messy fingers, messy faces--all fed. Tummies are full. Now it's nap time. My wife likes nap time.

Once again they lie in the comfort we provide--all while I work. I'm far but close, always thinking of them.

My phone rings. I only hear breathing. I smile. My wife's phone is now missing. I do it all for them.

I work that they may grow. They trust so deeply. How I yearn to do the same.

They see so little of how it all came to be--never questioning, only trusting. I come home to second hugs. Now I'm a horse.

We eat dinner, brush teeth. Jammie time. Finally it's bedtime.

Once again they lay their heads on the pillows we provide.

I will be their protector. I will be their gentle friend. I will be my wife's faithful husband. I am a father.

I am also a son. And while I may not understand all that He does for me, I do know that all that I am and all that I have is because He's a father to me.

I now stand very aware of how it all came to be.

The good men in my life have also taught me more about Heavenly Father.  My father worked and provided so I didn't have to think about food or shelter or opportunity.  I was just given it.  Adam works and provides.  I think I probably am more aware of his work than my dad's and I take it for granted less, but still, I take it for granted.  What a luxury to be able to take things like that for granted!

There is always food in the pantry.  There is someone to answer the really tough questions.  There is an anchor for me and also for our kids.

They have taught me about Heavenly Father.  I have a Father who loves me and provides me with what I need--even when what I need are tough mortal experiences that try me and teach me lessons I didn't know I wanted or needed.

I am grateful for good men and good fathers.

Adam and Braeden

me, Olivia, my dad, Marianne

Braeden and Linn

Linn and Mark

Mark and Mark

Adam and Mark

Adam and Emma

Me, Braeden, Grandpa Dahl, and Grandma Dahl

Grandma Jaynes, holding me; Grandpa Jaynes holding Marianne

Linn, Emma, Jackson and Kain

Braeden, Adam and Emma

There's no price tag you can put on good men being good fathers.