Unbalanced and stabilized

I had a flat tire.  Adam wasn't there at the time and I was in my pajamas (and inept).  Ammon and Edgar came to my rescue.  Brothers (and brothers in law) are the best invention.

Later, Adam was going to take it to the one place in town that would be open on Easter Sunday and Enoch said he would go with him--because the people there could be a little...dishonest...but he knew them and would make sure we were treated fairly.  (Again brothers=best invention.)

We got on the road and we headed to Salt Lake City.  I rode with my parents so I could get in some extra visiting and Adam and the kids drove our van.  We stopped at the same rest stop on the Salt Flats.

And I was caught stealing a sip of Adam's soda before climbing back into my parents' car.

The next day we spent a day of mingled nostalgia and hopeful anticipation as we took our kids on a tour of BYU.  Adam pointed out the building where he first saw me.  I pointed out the building where I saw no boys, ever...well, hardly ever.  (The education building.)  We went to Temple Square and it was all delightful.

At least it was delightful until we had to take Adam to the airport so he could fly home to work.

It was pouring rain (isn't that what we were supposed to leave behind in Seattle?) and we went to the hotel where the kids swam a while and I didn't.

Then it was time for dinner which could only mean Cracker Barrel.  (How we love Cracker Barrel!  The peg game!  The insanely big breakfasts that are served all!  Day!  Long!)  On the way there, the light that indicates a tire problem went on.  It could be said that I freaked out.  I was sure every bump and road noise was the precursor to a blowout.  It was still raining and dark and my husband was on an airplane and there I was.  We got to Cracker Barrel and I sent the kids in for a table and I dialed the brother that was closest, Ammon.  It was the kind of thing where I was composed until he picked up the phone and said "Hello," and then I started to cry.  Great swelling sobs.  I think I was really tired and sort of stressed and obviously overreacting.  As I was sitting there on the phone, crying, I realized how crazy and unbalanced I was being but at the same time, I realized how blessed I was to have a brother on the other end.  Ammon calmly listened to me.  He ignored the unhinged crying and talked rationally about my tires.  He promised help.  Even though he was about an hour away, I am sure he would have come right then and gathered me up from the Cracker Barrel but I told him I thought we'd be OK.

Braeden got his siblings settled then came back outside to be with me.  With that sixth sense of his, he must have known that I was ready to crack.  Between the two of them, Ammon and Braeden,  I stabilized enough to go inside and have some chicken noodle soup and a blueberry muffin.  (I recommend both.)

Ammon, with sick children and himself threatening to be the same, was excused from tire duty and an amiable and nearly toothless man at the Walmart tire center the next day was able to get my tires fixed and allay my fears.

We went to my Grandma Jaynes' house. My Grandma Jaynes is the one I'm named after.  She's the one that tried to teach me to roller skate when I was little, but I proved too unathletic to keep up with her.  She's the one that grabbed my hand and Marianne's and ran with us to Star Tours when the gates at Disneyland opened and Star Tours was brand new.  Marianne and I, teenagers, tried our best to keep up.  She's always been a force to be reckoned with.  She could outshop, outclean, outgarden and outcook anyone I knew.  She could play the piano beautifully, by ear, and she embroidered fancy dishtowels for me when I got married.  She always gave me the most perfect and generous gifts.

How I love her.

As she's gotten older, she's slowed down.  Her medicine makes her a little dizzy at times.  Even though she may need to lean on my arm for support, she's still the one that stabilizes me.  She reminds me what is really important in life.  She reminds me that she loves me.  (And that is worth a lot.)  She has not diminished in my eyes at all.  She is still fun to laugh with.  She still gives good advice and is kind and generous and is my biggest fan.

I took her shopping.  Instead of me trying to keep up with her breakneck pace like I did all the many times she took me school shopping, we moved slower.  Instead of her running back and forth from the dressing room with styles and sizes for me to try, I got clothes for her.  I felt honored to be the one helping her.  I wish I lived closer to her so I could see her more often.

Back at her house, I tried to help her a little on her computer.  I called in Emma when I needed reinforcements.  (She understands computers better than I do.)

What I've been thinking about is how perfect, even when they're imperfect, families are.  It doesn't matter the generation.  It doesn't matter the age or experience or stamina.  What matters is that we're there for each other.  We all have something to give and we all have things we need.

Seems like I'm mostly on the needing and receiving end.

I have a lot to be grateful for.