My Resolution

I wrote the following piece for my community writing group's January meeting. The theme was New Beginnings. 

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My family and I were on vacation in Oregon. It was the summer of 2003 and we were visiting my in-laws before they retired to a new home in a new state. I had five little kids at the time, the youngest was about a month old, if that, and we had all been enjoying our carefree stay at the family farm for the last time. None of this really matters or has anything to do with the rest of this story, but it's ingrained in my mind because I picture where I was every time I think of the phone call. 

One ordinary day on the farm, my dad called. When I look back on that conversation, the first words I think of are my dad saying, "I have cancer." He had been diagnosed with colon cancer and he wanted me to hear it from him. I immediately started bawling which is no surprise because I'm a total daddy's girl. But before you start feeling sorry for me or my dad, let me reassure you - my dad didn't die from colon cancer. In fact, he lived another 13 1/2 years before he was diagnosed with esophageal cancer and passed away ten days later. But that is also not the point of this story. I just felt like you might be wondering, so I wanted to share how that all played out. 

So back to the phone call. I don't remember exactly what was said or all the reassurances that were given. But at some point after my dad broke the news about his cancer, he said, "This is the best thing that's ever happened to me! Everyone should have the opportunity to look at their life through this lens." At the time, I disagreed with him, mostly because it felt like the worst thing that had ever happened to me. I couldn't bear the thought of losing my dad. But as I've thought of those words from time to time over the past 20 years, my perspective has shifted. And as I considered them once again last November, I decided on a New Year's resolution: To live like I'm dying.

I'm not dying, by the way, at least not as far as I know. But I'm trying to live my life as if my days were numbered. A little over three weeks into this new year, here is how it's going so far:

• I have a lot of stuff. I'm one of those people that holds onto things just in case I might need it again someday, even though I haven't needed it in, I don't know, three years? Five years? I mean, you never know! Don't get me wrong. I'm not a hoarder. And I'm not even that sentimental, but there are some things that were really useful in their day and it's hard for me to part with them. I've found it's a lot easier to get rid of things if I know of someone who can actually use them right now. Or if I remind myself that I can always buy it again if I ever need it. Or I think of the burden I'd be passing onto my kids if they're the ones who have to go through all of my stuff when I'm gone. There are some things I think they'll be glad I saved, but that's definitely the exception, not the rule. I'm realizing that now is the time to let go. And the more I get rid of, the easier it gets.
• I'm trying to be nicer and more patient with others, especially my family. Nobody's perfect and we all have bad days. So I'm trying to be more forgiving and reassuring; to quickly move on from frustrations and annoyances. Regardless of how much time I have left, life is too short to hold a grudge.
• On that same note, I'm trying to practice kindness. Whether that means taking cookies to my neighbor, paying for the person behind me in line, or simply giving people the benefit of the doubt, I want to be that person. I want to leave people better than I found them. 
• I've become more deliberate about managing my time. Sometimes I ask myself, "If not now, when?" If my days were numbered then there might not be a better time in the future so I need to make good use of today. I'm getting things done, but I'm also prioritizing so that I don't spend time on things that don't really matter. I'm finally going to finish that quilt I started two years ago... :)
• I'm more open to new opportunities and spur-of-the-moment experiences. I want to have fun! I want to live life while I still can! I have a reputation for being a tightwad, but there's a big difference between spending money on stuff I don't need and enjoying unique experiences with my family, like driving for four hours to see one of my daughter's favorite musicals. We've already booked our flight to Utah in March so we can hear my son's music group perform live. I can't wait!  

These are just a few of the ways I'm learning to live like I'm dying. I'm sure the fact that I'm not actually dying limits my experience to some extent, but even so, I appreciate the new perspective it's given me and the positive changes I've made so far as a result of my resolution. I'm looking forward to more progress, insights, and meaningful experiences throughout the year and beyond. After all, to quote my dad, "everyone should have the opportunity to look at their life through this lens."  

25 Years Ago Today

Twenty five years ago today was a big day for me.

Saying goodbye to my dad at the MTC. (I've always had a hard time saying goodbye to my dad!)

On July 1, 1992, I entered the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah in preparation for my service in the Scotland Edinburgh Mission (SEM). I was in the MTC for only 13 days. At the time, missionaries going to English-speaking missions stayed in the MTC for 3 weeks. However, the SEM was getting a new mission president and the outgoing president wanted to get us there before the change to lessen the load on the new president.

The classic MTC picture - my district pointing to Scotland on the big MTC map. I'm in the floral skirt.

I loved the MTC. Two districts totaling 21 missionaries had all been called to Scotland so we were a pretty tight group. 

My MTC district. I'm the one in pink.

I have so many great memories of my time in the MTC and my mission. If I had to do it over again, I definitely would!

Have A Nice Life

I attended my writing group again last night. What a great group of people! We laugh a lot and have a great time as we encourage each other and share our stories.

Each month, we bring a piece that we've written based on a prompt given to us at the previous meeting. But before we read those aloud, we are given a new prompt at the start of the meeting and we write for about 20 minutes. Then, if we choose, we share what we've written. Last night the prompt was a very general "gifts." That could mean a favorite or least favorite gift we've received or given. It could be a card or letter. It could be a birthday or Christmas or any other occasion. Whatever we thought of, we had twenty minutes to write. It took me a few minutes to get started, but here's what I came up with in the end.

It was 1988, my freshman year of college. I was at Ricks, a junior college in Idaho about 4 hours from my Utah home. I was still homesick when my 18th birthday rolled around just a few weeks after the start of the semester, so I was excited when a postcard arrived from my dad. I went to my room to read his note. 

"Dear Missy, Happy Birthday to you. ... Hope you have a great day, weekend, year, life, etc. I love you. Love, Dad"

As silly as it sounds, I sat down on my bed and cried. My dad had just told me to have a nice life. It sounded so...final. 

I've always been a daddy's girl, and his card reminded me that I was far from home, but I knew that my dad simply wanted me to be happy, not only on my birthday but always.

I still have that postcard, but I no longer have my dad. It's okay. Throughout my life he always made it clear that he wants the best for me.

He wants me to have a nice life.

 

A Message Meant For Me

Dad - the tall, handsome one in the back row - with his family.

Grief is a funny thing. It has a tendency to blindside you when you least expect it. I really thought I'd be doing better by now. It's been over 2 months since my dad's death and I feel like I'm doing worse now than I was in the first weeks after he died. At the time, I was overcome by so many tender mercies that I felt so blessed! But now all I can think of is how much I miss him and how it's SO UNFAIR that he was taken from us. I have spent way too much time feeling sorry for myself.

Just the other day, something completely ironic and funny happened and I just knew my dad would get a kick out of it. But I couldn't tell him. That left me feeling empty and sad for the rest of the day.

My dad lost his mom when he was 21 and his dad at 32. I don't remember him ever crying over his losses or wondering what to do with himself. He was ever the optimist. He spoke matter-of-factly about losing his parents and I grew up understanding that death was just a normal part of life. I had my dad way longer than he had either of his parents, but I still feel like I've been cheated.

Fortunately, there are still tender mercies that confirm to me that Heavenly Father is aware of me and what I'm going through. For example, today's message on the Mormon Tabernacle Choir's weekly broadcast of Music and the Spoken Word felt like it was just for me. Maybe my case isn't as hopeless as it seems.


The Absence of Someone We Love

From Music and the Spoken Word

One of life’s universal and unavoidable experiences is to lose someone we love. All who have lived and loved will lose cherished family and friends to death. Whether early or late, suddenly or gradually, dramatically or peacefully, death comes for everyone. And when it comes for a loved one, our whole world can change in an instant, and we may wonder how we can ever go on.

Death can be so difficult to cope with and so difficult to understand. Moving forward can seem almost impossible at first. But the only way to avoid such heartbreak would be to remove from life all loving relationships—so we do move forward, and little by little, as we attend to life’s daily demands, as we eat and work and sleep again, we begin to gain some understanding, even peace. We begin to gain strength.

And yet we never quite get back to normal; things won’t ever be just as they were—nor should they be. “Nothing can make up for the absence of someone whom we love,” wrote the great theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer, “and it would be wrong to try to find a substitute; we must simply hold out and see it through. That sounds very hard at first,” he acknowledged, “but at the same time it is a great consolation, for the gap, as long as it remains unfilled, preserves the bonds between us . . . and so helps us to keep alive our former communion with each other, even at the cost of pain.”¹

It’s this delicate balance between holding on and letting go that gives life some of its bitter sweetness. Because we know heartache and pain, we also know love and joy. And it just so happens that often the more our hearts are broken with pain, the more open they tend to be, and thus more able to receive and give love. Such love never dies. It goes on and on until the perfect day.<sup>2

1. Letter to Renate and Eberhard Bethge, Dec. 24, 1943, in Letters and Papers from Prison, ed. Eberhard Bethge (1971), np.
2. See Doctrine and Covenants 50:24.</sup>

#lighttheworld

Tomorrow is Day One of the #lighttheworld campaign for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. #Lighttheworld issues a challenge to follow the example of the Savior and be a light to the world (see John 8:12). There is a different challenge for each day of December through Christmas. 

I love this video. My favorite part is how it shows Christ helping someone and then it shows someone in our day performing a similar service. I got all teary-eyed the first time I watched it because it reminded me of my last days with my dad. I would sit with him for hours, even as he slept, and it didn't feel like a burden. His last night at home, he was up every five or ten minutes - in too much pain to sleep and needing to clear the mucous out of his lungs by gargling and spitting. It hurt too much for him to cough and he couldn't swallow. We wiped his face and made sure he had what he needed. We tried to make him as comfortable as possible, but it was heart-wrenching to be so helpless to relieve his suffering. I know that any of us who were caring for him would have done anything to give him even a few minutes of relief. It was a blessing to serve him. The video above shows that spirit of service.  

Tomorrow the challenge is to participate in the Worldwide Day of Service. Just find a way to serve someone else, big or small. 

If you go to mormon.org, you can download the "In 25 Ways. Over 25 Days." advent calendar. (Just scroll down a little from the video.) It spells out the challenges for each day. 

I'm excited. :)

Thankful for Dad

Before my dad passed away, he was involved in making many of the arrangements for his funeral and burial. One of his requests was that each of his kids would speak for five minutes at his funeral. This was a heavy task for many of us. How could I sum up his legacy in just five minutes? How would I be able to talk through my tears? 

In the end, I was grateful for the assignment - not only because I was able to pay tribute to my amazing dad, but also because I was able to hear about him from the perspective of each of my siblings. We each focused on something different and, having grown up as the second oldest child, I learned things about my dad that weren't necessarily a part of my experience. Again, we laughed and we cried, but overwhelmingly, we expressed gratitude for our dad and the wonderful man and father that he was. 

Chantal, my dad and me.

For what it's worth, here are my five minutes...

My Dad was no stranger to hard times. He lost his Mom when he was 21. His youngest brother was killed ten years later in what was called an automobile homicide. His Dad passed away a year later from cancer.

He suffered financial setbacks, like when he got a second mortgage on his home to loan his best friend $30,000. His friend never did pay him back but somehow the friendship survived. Years later, while working as a stock broker, Dad was sued for 3 million dollars. His brokerage license was eventually reinstated as they could find no evidence of wrongdoing on his part, but by then he’d moved onto other jobs to support his family and to pay for the $20,000 in legal fees. He was never the type to sit around collecting food stamps.

As we all know, Dad didn’t escape health problems. Most of his teeth were knocked out in a car accident shortly before his marriage. He was diagnosed with colon cancer in 2003. When Dad called to tell me this news, he said “Everyone should be given a chance like this to look at their life through this lens.” When they found out the cancer had spread to his lymph nodes, Dad didn’t change his tune. He said, “I’ll treat this to a point, but I’m not going to jump through hoops to spare my life. I don’t fear death.” After all was said and done, he said he felt better than he had in 20 years.

Despite many trials and setbacks, Dad has always been an optimist. He always saw the glass as half full. More than once I’ve heard him say, “I refuse to worry about this.” On the other hand, I’ve heard my Mom say, “Dad refuses to worry about this so I have to do all the worrying for both of us!” While growing up I remember thinking Dad would be really upset about something only to find his “no sweat” attitude shining through. Take for instance the time I was driving his little car around and noticed some smoke coming out of the hood. In my limited understanding of cars, I passed it off as steam from the snow that was melting on the car. However, when I got home and walked to the front of the car, I saw that the front grille was covered with black oil. I was scared as I walked in the house and said, “Dad, there’s something wrong with the car.” He followed me out, saw the oil, popped the hood, and calmly said, “It looks like we’ve lost the oil cap. No biggie. I’ll take care of it.” And that was the end of it.

My dad and I both owned shares of the same stock. Once I called to ask his opinion when it dropped in price. His response was, “It’s on sale! I just bought more!”

Part of Dad’s optimism was a great sense of humor that took me several years to appreciate. My siblings and I were not allowed to date until we were 16. About the time my older sister turned 16, there was a rumor that if you wanted to ask her out, you had to have an interview with my Dad. One brave young man, accepting this rumor as truth, called and asked Dad when he could come for his interview. Dad, happy to humor him and torture his daughters, invited him over. My sister and I were horrified and I imagined how miserable I’d be throughout my dateless life! Following the date, my sister informed Dad that he would never do that again. And he didn’t. After that, what usually happened is that Dad would just chat with our date when they came to pick us up. They never knew they were being interviewed and I remember comments like, “Your Dad is cool!” as we left the house.

Then there was the time that I was riding shotgun with my dad in his 1961 Ford Econoline van. Embarrassed by the van, I ducked as we drove past someone I knew. Insisting I had offended his van, dad pulled over and wouldn’t leave until I apologized and kissed the steering wheel.

I’ve always been a Daddy’s girl. A few weeks before I got married, dad encouraged me to invite my fiancé, Jeff, to spend the night at our house the night before our wedding so I could ride with him to the temple the next morning. I extended the invitation, but as the wedding date approached, I started having second thoughts. After all, I would not be coming back home after the wedding. I would be Jeff’s. While I love Jeff and didn’t have reservations about marrying him, I decided I really wanted to ride to the temple with my dad. So the day before our wedding, I uninvited Jeff. I found out after we were married that Jeff was pacing the streets of Salt Lake at 4:00 in the morning the day of our wedding worried that I wouldn’t show up. I showed up and I’ve been happily married to Jeff for over 21 years, but I’ll always be a daddy’s girl.

More than anything else, Dad has always loved his family and loved having them around him. I remember the time I was living in Columbus, Ohio with my young family. Dad had a business trip 3 ½ hours away from us. As soon as he got off the plane, he drove the 3 ½ hours to see us, spent the night, then drove the 3 ½ hours back in the morning. To him this 7-hour detour was no big deal. He just wanted to see his grandkids. Then there was the time we flew from Columbus to Utah without telling Dad we were coming. My sister arranged a family gathering at her house. When Dad arrived and saw that everyone was there, he cried and said it was the best surprise he’d ever had. Twice while I’ve lived in Illinois, my dad rerouted business trips so that he could show up at Grandparent’s day at the elementary school. My kids have always known, without question, how much their Grandpa loved them! Last Thanksgiving, realizing that my parents and all of my siblings would be together in Utah, my family decided to drive from Illinois to, once again, surprise my parents. My dad said he would never forget that special surprise. I count that trip as a tender mercy from the Lord as it allowed us more time together during what we didn’t realize would be the last year of dad’s life.

I’ve learned so many lessons from my dad over the course of my life such as:

•          “If you see something you don’t like in someone else, change it in yourself.” It’s amazing how often that simple statement is the solution.
•          “Go Right on Working.” That’s a lesson he learned from his mother and passed on, by example, to me. After all, life is full of setbacks. Pick yourself up and keep moving.
•          Make the temple and The Book of Mormon a priority. Dad attended early-morning temple sessions often throughout my life and it’s not an exaggeration to say that he read The Book of Mormon more times than anyone I’ve ever known!

I could go on, but I hope that through these memories, I’ve been able to communicate my gratitude for the privilege of being raised by this great man. My dad had a great respect and love for his maternal grandfather. I can say the same of my dad as was said of his beloved grandpa by one of his sons: “To have such a person as a father doubles a person’s responsibility to make a success of his life. Not financially, not in the worldly things, but in the ways that really count: spiritually, morally and religiously. All the good things I have I owe to my parents.”

I love you, dad. I’ll miss hearing your voice say, “How ya doin’, baby?” when I answer the phone. I’m not sure how I will live without you, but I hope I can make you proud. And I can’t wait to see you again.

(If you are interested in hearing the rest of the funeral, a recording can be found here. Scroll to the end of the obituary and push play on the "recording of service." It's long, but it was really beautiful. ;) 

Dad's sister, MaryAnn's wedding. My dad in white
with his younger brothers - Robert, Randy and Leonard.
Dad's friend, Marty Yeager, is in black.

{Happy Thanksgiving. As you can see, I have so much to be grateful for!}

So Many Tender Mercies

Remember when my family drove to Utah last Thanksgiving and surprised my parents? Or when my parents and siblings were all gathered in the temple last June? Those were definitely tender mercies, but I had no idea how cherished those memories would become.

Let me back up...

You may remember that my dad suffered a stroke at the end of September. It was scary, but other than a slight facial droop, there was no paralysis and the doctors expected a full recovery. He was only in the hospital overnight and we were hopeful he would soon be back to normal.

A month later, right about the time I left for the Virgin Islands, things still weren't right. My dad hadn't been able to sleep because, for reasons that couldn't be explained, his back hurt really bad. He couldn't eat solid foods. He could sort of tolerate soft foods and liquids, but it was hard to swallow and food just wouldn't go down. His symptoms were dismissed by his doctors and he was getting frustrated. Finally, after being told there were no appointments available, dad walked into his doctor's office on October 18th insisting that something was wrong. They gave him a muscle relaxer and sent him home. The next day, he went to InstaCare insisting that something was wrong. They gave him a steroid and sent him home. The next day, he went to the Emergency Room insisting that something was wrong. They admitted him.

Dad - finally resting in the hospital

To make a long story short, dad was in the hospital for 6 days. They found lesions on his liver and suspected a curable lymphoma. But after an endoscopy found a large tumor in his esophagus causing a 70% blockage to his stomach, they did a biopsy and the result was esophageal cancer. The same cancer was confirmed in his liver which meant it had spread. Stage 4. Terminal. No wonder he couldn't eat. No wonder his back hurt.

Dad left the hospital on Wednesday, October 26, the day he was diagnosed. By Thursday night, my brother was worried dad wouldn't be around long and encouraged us to come to Nevada. I headed out the next morning.

That weekend was another tender mercy. All seven kids were there and we had some really special moments with my parents. Dad told stories and shared memories. We discussed his treatment options. Dad needed to know that we were each okay with his decision to forgo treatment. We cried a lot, but there was plenty of laughter, too. Dad was too sick to attend church, but he wanted each of his kids to be there. Afterward, my brothers administered the sacrament for my parents which was a sacred experience I'll never forget. In typical dad fashion, dad took the biggest piece of sacrament bread even though he hadn't eaten any solid food for at least a couple of weeks. But then he asked if we had any question about his standing with Heavenly Father. We didn't. That's another tender mercy, knowing that dad was right with God and realizing the blessing of being raised by this great man.

The whole family together for two days. 

I stayed in Nevada from Friday to Friday. My brother, Rob, was there, too. Amy came back on Tuesday and we were so glad to have her RN experience. We had a couple of really rough days and nights as the pain intensified and dad could no longer tolerate his medication. That was the hardest part, seeing him in so much pain and being helpless to ease his suffering. I can honestly say that I cried more that week than I think I've ever cried before, ever.

When we called his oncologist to ask about hospice, she was shocked. She had seen him four days earlier and estimated he might make it six months without treatment. Even when hospice came in, I don't think they realized the magnitude of the situation. No one seemed to realize how rapidly dad was declining but us. Some meds were switched, but we were left alone to sit up with dad during the long, grueling nights. He had pain in his chest, his back and up and down his right side. He couldn't swallow his own mucous, but was too weak to cough. It was heartbreaking. For whatever reason, hospice nurses couldn't give him IV meds at home so the night before I left, he was taken to a hospice facility to try to manage his pain. Shortly after arriving, he slipped into a coma. We thought the new pain meds were finally helping him sleep. We didn't know he wouldn't wake up again.

I said my goodbyes as I left early the next morning. It was hard to leave knowing it would be the last time I'd see my dad alive. I wished I could hear just one more, "I love you, baby." I arrived home late that afternoon. Early the next morning, on November 5, my mom called to tell me that my dad had peacefully passed away.

Ten days from devastating diagnosis to death. But even in death, the Lord was merciful. We had time together at the end and dad didn't have to suffer for long. For those tender mercies, I am so grateful!

AWOL

This is just a quick post to tell anyone who cares that I have not abandoned my blog. I'll be back, I promise.

It's been a whirlwind few weeks with a babysitting job in St. Thomas then a week with my dad in Nevada after a cruel diagnosis. I'm heading out again today for his funeral. :(

I'll be back next week and plan to catch up!! Thanks for sticking with me.

1942 ~ 2016  

David Paul Martin, age 74, of Boulder City, Nevada, passed away peacefully on November 5, 2016 in Las Vegas, NV surrounded by family. Dave was born in Salt Lake City on May 15, 1942 to Paul Hawkins and LaVera Hardy Martin. On June 30, 1967, he married his eternal companion, Peggy Dawn Peterson, in the Salt Lake Temple.

Dave was an active member of the LDS church. He served as a missionary in the French East Mission from 1962-1964 and in countless church callings throughout his life. He was an avid walker and enjoyed gardening, reading, doing puzzles, and missionary work. Most of all he enjoyed spending time with his family. 

Dave is survived by his wife, Peggy Martin; seven children: Chantal (Jeff) Brown, Missy (Jeff) Stowell, David (Tanya) Martin, Steve (Jenny) Martin, Amy (Levi) Ernest, Rob Martin, Jeffrey (Katie) Martin; two brothers: Robert (Camilla) Martin, Randy (Debbie) Martin; two sisters: Mary Ann Loveless, Nancy Peterson; and 23 grandchildren. He was preceded in death by his parents and his brother, Leonard Martin. 

Funeral services will be held on Friday, November 11, 2016 at 11:00 am at the LDS Chapel located at 916 5th Street in Boulder City. A viewing will also be held there on Thursday, November 10 from 6 to 8 pm and again on Friday from 10 to 10:45 am. Burial will be on Saturday, November 12 at 3:30 pm at Larkin Sunset Gardens in Sandy, UT. Immediately following the burial will be a memorial service at 5 pm at the LDS Chapel located at 11420 S 700 W in Draper, UT. 

Only One Person Calls Me Baby

I answered the phone this morning and a soft, unfamiliar male voice on the other end said, "Hi. How ya doin', baby?" 

I was confused. In a split second, several thoughts ran through my mind. Who is this? Why is he calling me baby? Is this a prank? Should I hang up? And then a realization, Wait, only one person calls me baby... 

Immediately I was filled with relief as I enthusiastically said, "Oh hi, dad! How are you?"

You see, my dad suffered a small stroke on Sunday evening. It looks like he should make a full recovery, but he still has some facial droop and slurred speech. It's getting a little bit better each day, according to the updates I've gotten this week from my mom and my brother. 

Today was the first time since the stroke that I've spoken with my dad. I wasn't expecting his voice on the line when I answered, but I can't tell you how happy it made me! I was pleased to find that it was easy to understand him. He just sounds a little different is all. 

I'm just happy he's still around to call me baby. :) 

Season Opener

In true BYU fashion, BYU won their football season opener against Arizona with four seconds to spare. The final score was 18-16. Not a high-scoring game by any means, but we won and that's what matters. With a new head coach this year, this win was important to get us off on the right foot.

Of course, the game against our biggest rival this coming weekend will be pretty telling as well. The University of Utah has a five-game winning streak against us so a win against them would be awesome!

Anyway.

My favorite part of the game last night was that Sam was there!! Just over a month after returning home from his mission, he was back in his beloved Arizona. He loved being there. He told me he felt like he was home.

Sam with some members from his last area in Mesa

Sam drove down to Arizona with my brother, Rob. They stopped to pick up my dad for his very first BYU football game on their way down. Rob and I are the only ones in my family of 7 kids who attended BYU. My parents never chose sides (even though they went to the U), and sports weren't that important to them. But I'm happy that my dad finally made it to a game. It was a good one!

Let's hope this is the start of a great season!! Go Cougars! :)

Dear Dad,

I saved you a piece. I even burned the crust because I know you like burned stuff. (Okay, that was an accident, but still.)

Wish you were here!

Love,
me

Dreaming of Summer

My Dad was here last weekend.  It was great to have Grandpa to ourselves for a few days and the kids enjoyed spending time with him.  Unfortunately, the weather was quite cold while he was here so, other than a meal at Sadie’s favorite restaurant “Stink ‘n’ Shake” (Steak ‘n’ Shake) and church, we pretty much hung out at home.  On Tuesday he headed to Chicago for a trade show.  The weather got colder each day, the coldest day being Thursday the day he was to return to Nevada.  It was -8 degrees, but the real feel was -30 or worse.  In Boulder City where he’s from, it was 67 degrees that day.  So he experienced a 100 degree temperature differential in one day.  Crazy!

Usually Chicago is much colder than us at this time of year, but we had the same temperatures on Thursday.  In fact, Thursday and Friday were so cold that my kids’ school was canceled both days.  They were thrilled with an unexpected 5 day weekend as they’re also off tomorrow for Martin Luther King, Jr. Day.  We’ve had a fun weekend, but the cold really limits our possibilities.  So I’ve been reminiscing about warmer days and decided it’s about time I blogged our vacation last Summer (July 20-August 4).  You can click on any of the pictures to see a larger image.

Here are some of the highlights:

*The kids didn’t know we were going on vacation until we were in the van.  It was great to see their reaction as we informed them we had packed everything they’d need and we’d be gone for two weeks.  This is the 2nd time we’ve pulled this off and it’s my favorite way to go.

*We drove to Iowa the first day (about 6 hours) and stayed with the Christensen’s, friends from our student days in Ohio.  Then we left at 4:00 the next morning thinking we had about a 20 hour drive ahead of us.  Because we threw the tread on one of our tires about 3 hours into that day’s drive, we spent way too long getting new tires in Des Moines.  All in all, we were on the road (or waiting for tires) for 25 hours before finally making it to Grandma and Grandpa’s house in Idaho.  I’ve never been so glad to get out of the van.  Fortunately, there were some nice views along the way to make Iowa, Nebraska, and Wyoming less monotonous.

*Everyone in Jeff’s family (minus one niece) was already at his parent’s house.  The kids enjoyed getting to know their cousins a bit better and we had plenty of food and fun together.  This is Jeff and Todd (Todd is the one with the monster burger).  They are 14 months apart in age even though they look like twins in this picture.

*There was plenty of water fun.  We enjoyed waterskiing, the Rexburg water park, and sprinklers.

*There was plenty of other fun going on.  We entertained ourselves with Karaoke, horseback riding, 4-wheelers, learning the Ripstik, crafts, movies, games and more.

*Spending time with both sides of our family was definitely the highlight of our trip.  We were finally able to meet our newest nieces/cousins, Taylor and Ruby.  We were also able to visit with my Grandma, not knowing it would be the last time we’d ever have that chance.  For that one reason alone, we’re glad we made the trip.

*After we left Idaho, we spent a few days in Utah at my brother Steve’s house.  We were able to get together with everyone on my side of the family twice and it was great visiting and catching up.  While we were there, my Dad took us on a tour of Salt Lake and we were able to visit many interesting sites and let the kids see some of the places I lived and visited as a little girl.

*We drove to Jeff’s brother Jeremy’s house in Colorado and spent the night with them on the way home.  We attended church then started driving with plans to stay the night in Kansas – a very long and boring state.  When the power source for the movie player went out in the van and the kids started getting irritable and grumpy,  Jeff and I decided we’d rather drive through the night than face another day in the van without entertainment for the little ones.  

It’s quite peaceful when the kids are all sleeping!  So we arrived home around 7:00 the next morning.

*Overall it was a great trip.  A little too much driving. I mean, you’d think it would get easier after making the trip so many times.  But it was fun spending so much time together and we’re all glad we went. 

I just looked outside and it’s snowing.  Back to reality!  Hmmm…I wonder if it will be warm over Spring Break…

Finding Faith in the Fog

I attended another meeting of our County memoir writing group last month.  While you can’t really call what I came up with a memoir, it is an experience I’ve thought of many times over the years but had never written down until now.  Here it is:

I was probably about 21, give or take, and living at home. An extra car was needed at home on this particular day so Dad agreed to take the bus to work. But the bus stop was at the Mall which was 2 or 3 miles away and so Dad, always the early riser, woke me before sunup to drive him to the bus. Even though I was quite familiar with the road, I was barely creeping along because it was an extremely foggy morning. It was still dark out and the headlights only reflected off the fog in front of me making it even harder to see. When I finally turned onto State Street, I found myself peering over the steering wheel straight down at the lines on the road so that I knew I was staying in my lane. We crept along like this for a while before Dad offered his advice.

“Look up,” he said. 

“What?” I wasn’t going to look up or I wouldn’t be able to see anything. 

“Look up,” he calmly replied. Then he added, “If you look up, you can see the street lights. They are bright enough that you can see much farther ahead. 

Cautiously, I looked up. Sure enough, I could see 3 street lights straight ahead, pointing the way to go. It was amazing how free I became to speed up and drive with more confidence. Soon we came to the traffic light signaling that we had reached the mall. There were a lot of lights now, scattered around the parking lot, and I easily found the bus stop and waited with Dad until the bus came. 

By the time I left, the fog had lifted enough that the drive home wasn’t nearly as scary, but I would have been okay anyway since I’d learned to look for the lights. 

Many times in the years since my foggy drive to the bus stop, I’ve thought of this experience and reflected on the analogy. We are creeping through life, sometimes frightened of where the next step will take us or unsure of what is around a curve in our journey. We continue on like this, getting by — until we are encouraged to look up. It is frightening to take our eyes off the road. What if we crash? What if we lose our way? But we do it. We look up. And we see the light. We see His light and realize that there is a better way. We don’t have to creep along unknowing any longer. We follow His light and find freedom we have never known. Suddenly our perspective has changed and we understand things we didn’t understand before. We are aware of possibilities we never knew existed until now. And all because we trusted Him enough to look up and follow His light.

Dad - The Eternal Optimist

 

I recently attended a “Memoir Writing Group” sponsored by our county Arts Council. Below is the piece I wrote. It’s about my Dad so I’m posting it here as a Father’s Day tribute to him. It’s called “The Eternal Optimist”, which describes him very well. I love you, Dad!

My Dad is no stranger to hard times. He lost his Mom when he was 21. He happened to be living in Switzerland as a missionary at the time and didn’t learn of her death until the day of the funeral. It’s not like she would have been there if he’d rushed home and he felt that she would have wanted him to stay where he was. About ten years later, his youngest brother was forced off the road and killed in what was called an automobile homicide. His Dad passed away a year later from cancer.

Then there were the financial setbacks, like when he got a second mortgage on his home to loan his best friend $30,000. His friend never did pay him back but somehow the friendship survived. Several years later, while working as a stock broker, Dad was sued for 3 million dollars. His brokerage license was revoked during the investigation. The legal bills amounted to over $20,000. Eventually his brokerage license was reinstated as they could find no evidence of wrongdoing on his part. He always maintained that he had done nothing wrong, but he had bills to pay and a family to support so he’d long ago moved on to other jobs. He’s never been the type to sit around collecting food stamps.

Dad hasn’t escaped health problems. Some things were accidental, like the time most of his teeth were knocked out in a car accident shortly before his marriage. Other things were just unfortunate, like when he was diagnosed with colon cancer in 2003. When Dad called to tell me this news, I immediately broke down. But then he started saying things like, “I think this is a wonderful opportunity”, and “Everyone should be given a chance like this to look at their life with a new perspective.” Whatever Dad! I just want to be sad about it, okay? When they found out the cancer had spread to his lymph nodes, Dad didn’t change his tune. That’s when he started saying things like, “I’ll treat this to a point, but I’m not going to jump through hoops to spare my life. I don’t fear death.” Okay, thanks Dad, but I kind of like having you around! He did have surgery to remove the cancerous portion of his intestine and then went through a round of chemotherapy which, by the way, he said he’d never do again. He eats well and walks several miles a day and says he feels better than he has in 20 years.

Despite these trials and setbacks, Dad is an optimist. He always sees the glass as half full. More than once I’ve heard him say, “I refuse to worry about this.” On the other hand, I’ve heard my Mom say, “Dad refuses to worry about this so I have to do all the worrying for both of us!” While growing up I remember thinking Dad would be really upset about something only to find his “no sweat” attitude shining through. Take for instance the time I was driving his little car around and noticed some smoke coming out of the hood. In my limited understanding of cars, I passed it off as steam from the snow that was melting on the car. However when I got home and walked to the front of the car, I saw that the front grille was covered with black oil. I was scared as I walked in the house and said, “Dad, there’s something wrong with the car.” He followed me out, saw the oil, popped the hood, and calmly said, “It looks like we’ve lost the oil cap. No biggie. I’ll take care of it.” And that was the end of it.

Part of Dad’s optimism is a great sense of humor that took me several years to appreciate. My siblings and I were not allowed to date until we were 16. Right about the time my older sister turned 16, there was a rumor that if you wanted to ask her out, you had to have an interview with my Dad. One brave young man, accepting this rumor as truth, called and asked Dad when he could come for his interview. Dad, happy to humor him and torture his daughters, invited him over. My sister and I were horrified and I imagined how miserable I’d be throughout my dateless life! Following the date, my sister informed Dad that he would never do that again. And he didn’t. After that, what usually happened is that Dad would just chat with our date when they came to pick us up. They never knew they were being interviewed and I remember comments like, “Your Dad is cool!” as we left the house.

Dad loves his family and just wants them around him. I remember the time I was living in Columbus, Ohio with my young family. Dad had a business trip 3 ½ hours away from us. As soon as he got off the plane, he drove the 3 ½ hours to see us, spent the night, then drove the 3 ½ hours back in the morning. To him this 7 hour detour was no big deal. He just wanted to see his grandkids. Then there was the time we flew from Columbus to Utah without telling Dad we were coming. My sister arranged a family gathering at her house. When Dad arrived and saw that everyone was there, he didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the evening. He said it was the best surprise he’s ever had.

Years ago Dad told me that his dream was to buy a large plot of land, subdivide it and give each of the kids a lot so that we could all live on the same cul-de-sac. With my parents now living in Nevada, my siblings in Utah, and my little family in Illinois, that dream probably won’t come true. But it’s easy for me to pick up the phone and get a healthy dose of Dad’s optimism when I need his perspective. For example, we both own shares of the same stock and when I called to ask his opinion when it dropped in price, his response was, “It’s on sale! I just bought more!”

One of my kids was being silly the other day. I jokingly told her she gets that from her dad. She said, “Actually I get it from Grandpa because he’s always funny.” I hope all of my kids will have their grandpa’s optimism. It helps to make this world a happier, friendlier place!