My Grandpa

I was cleaning carpets when my mom called Thursday afternoon. 

Christmas morning was magical. 🎄

Then, what can only be described as a "series of unfortunate events," unfolded.  Car problems, sleepless nights, children vomiting, super sick mom (never a good thing), unidentifiable rotten smell somewhere in the house threatening to take away my sanity… 

Which brings me back to Thursday afternoon.  

Extremely ill.  Cleaning carpets. 

I turned off the carpet cleaner and answered the phone. 

“Hey, mom.  What’s up?”

“I just got a phone call from my brother.  My dad passed away this afternoon.” {Silence} “I’m heading home to pack my bags.  I was planning to drive down tomorrow to visit my parents for Christmas, but I’m going a day early now.  I will leave as soon as I can get my things together.” 

She continued to talk as emotion filled her voice, relaying details from the past week or two of his life.  I listened and tried to take it all in.  How does one ever fully absorb that kind of information?  Perhaps everyone’s experience is a bit different. 

Shock

Hysteria

Anger

Pain

Sadness 

One of my sisters started sobbing uncontrollably.  My mom had to tell her to take a deep breath before she could continue talking.  

Numb

For me, there is always an emotional disconnect – a numbness – that occurs when I am given bad news.  Surreal.  As if I’m swirling above myself, witness to my mortal body standing, holding the phone and listening. 

That numbness serves as a protective mechanism while I wrap my head around the information I’m being given and attempt to process it.  And then comes the flood.  My emotions return like a desert summer storm – swift, powerful and overwhelming.  The waves of emotions continue to ebb and flow as memories and reality of his death hit me over and over again throughout the day.  

My grandpa is gone.  After 87 years, he has left this mortal life.  A legacy.  I knew he wouldn’t live forever.  I knew this day would come.  He’s lived a full life.  He’s been tired of this mortal existence for a long time and was not shy to tell you how ready he was to move on.  But I’m going to miss him.  A lot. 

This was the last time I saw my grandpa (on my way out the door to go hiking with my friend, Lisa)

I LOVE that we were laughing together...even if it was due to his lack of cooperation at taking a picture with me.  

Grandpa was one of a kind.  He loved garage sales and bargains.  He drove grandma crazy with his constant treasure-finding, but it was a trait that soon became endearing to the rest of us.  His great grandchildren were the proud recipients of many random ceramic creatures they excitedly picked out and brought home.  Grandpa was not the type to sit still for very long.  He always had a new project.  One year it was hauling a stuffed bear to state and county fairs. Later, it was raising pigeons and chickens in the backyard.  Now that I am a grown woman myself, I have to say my grandmother is an absolute saint!  She tolerated my grandpa’s crazy ideas and projects much better than I would have.  

Grandpa was a working man.  He dug ditches and could work a backhoe like no one ever. I’m not even sort of kidding.  A few years ago, a man who knew my grandpa told me, "Your grandpa could scratch someone's back with a backhoe and not leave a single mark behind.  That's how good he was."  The man was a legend working with big machines back in his glory days.   He loved working with his hands and using what he had on hand to fix something.  I cannot count the number of boats, trailers, RV’s and other vehicles he brought home over the years to fix up.  He also loved fishing, a fact that permanently bonded Dylan to his great grandfather forever.    

Last March, I took Dylan down to visit my grandparents for his birthday.  One day, we headed into town to get some clothes from JC Penney (where my grandma used to work).  Grandma pulled her white Cadillac out of the garage a little too close to the minivan and scraped all the way down the side as she backed out.  I assured her it was not a big deal since the van is old and worn out.  “It’s fine, Grandma.  We’re just hoping the engine lasts a little while longer.  Don't worry about it.”  She panicked a bit, turned her steering wheel the other way and pulled forward in an attempt to avoid doing any more damage.  In the process, the rim of the Cadillac grabbed hold of the protective shield on the bottom of the van and peeled it up until it was folded open at a 90 degree angle.  😳
Grandma was devastated.  In fact, I hesitated to tell this story for fear of embarrassing her.  But to fully appreciate my grandpa, you have to hear the whole story...  

By this point in time, grandpa used a motorized wheelchair when he was outside.  He kept a couple of them in the garage so he could get around more quickly. As Grandma put the Cadillac back into reverse to once again try to avoid doing more damage to the van, Grandpa comes racing up the driveway in his “Jazzy” to see what happened. Grandpa slowly shook his head back and forth (not really upset, but more in a “What in the world am I going to do with this woman” kind of way), steers the jazzy over to the side of the van, lifts his foot up and proceeds to kick the side of the van a couple of times.  The protective shield (or whatever it’s called) bounced right back out at a 90 degree angle, completely unfazed by grandpa’s kicking.  Dylan and I did our best to keep from busting out laughing as we watched grandpa take in the details of a new problem he would spend the afternoon trying to solve.  

We returned from our shopping spree to find a great big screw holding the panel of the van in place.  Grandpa drove the jazzy over to fill me in on the happenings, “I put a screw in the side panel for you.  That should hold it in place and keep it from flapping in the wind for your drive home.  You’ll have to take it in and have it replaced.  Just send grandma the bill.”  I never did take the van in to be fixed.  I still have a screw in the side of the van holding that panel in place.  I smile fondly and think of my grandpa every time I open my door.   

My grandpa.  Gramps.  I’m not sure what age you have to be to catch a glimpse of the true man.  Perhaps anyone could if they looked hard enough.  For me, it didn’t take much more than a smile or hug to see past the politically incorrect, cussing man with strong opinions and no filter.  He had a hard outer shell, but inside he was nothing but goo.  Grandkids and great grandkids were particularly good at finding the inner core where he would melt like butter in the palm of their hand.

A little piece of my heart belonged to my grandpa.  That part of my heart is broken, aching, and longing for a big bear hug embrace just one more time.  I love you, grandpa!  Till we meet again.  

Tender Mercy

My older boys spent several hours working hard today.  As in manual labor, really pushing themselves physically, good old-fashioned hard work.  While they were gone, I decided to take Marissa and Caleb to the park to play and have a picnic for lunch.  I left a note for the boys to join us at the park when they finished.  It was one of those amazing moments where the stars align or some other cosmic force is in play. We had THE ENTIRE PARK to ourselves. I was able to read/listen to a book and take notes in my journal while still spending time with my little ones. They were ADORABLE! They were playing so cute together and making up games and stories. No tattle-telling, no crying, no needy, clingy, whiney kids. Just two siblings who are currently best friends making memories.

I've been a parent long enough to realize these types of moments come and go.  Dylan and Preston used to be best buddies, but are currently in a friendship funk. Sibling rivalry is in full force. They need space. They compete with one another much more than they cooperate and help each other and the incessant teasing is making me crazy (although the teasing part is pretty one-sided).  I've learned to take it in stride and not assign more meaning to their ups and downs than is necessary. Stages of life don't last forever and they allow for growth and development. But...I love when the needs of certain children match up with one another and siblings get along more than usual. For now, I feel extremely grateful that Marissa and Caleb's age, gender and personality mesh really well. They have constant adventures, love spending time together and make more messes than I can even begin to describe (something I've come to refer to as creativity and imagination).
BLESSING!  It is a true blessing and I am trying to soak in the moments and enjoy these two little ones tremendously while it lasts. The time at the park was not a complete surprise to me, but I still found myself smiling as I caught a glimpse of them creating rules and regulations for their "tree house" and hauling cup after cup of water from the drinking fountain to create the perfect consistency for building a sandcastle.

DELIGHTFUL! That's the best word I can use to describe it.  It was delightful to watch them. And to still be able to find time to read, ponder and reflect while spending time with my kiddos was absolute PERFECTION.  I found myself expressing gratitude.  And feeling joy.  Real JOY.

Dylan and Preston pulled into the park on their bikes and I couldn't help but smile.  They were clearly tired, but obviously had a good day working hard, something I feel both boys really need at this stage in their development.  They were excited to tell me about their day and then informed me that Wendy's has $0.50 frosties this summer.  They  asked if they could ride over and get one with their own money.  I said yes.  My mind was carried back to memories of my own childhood, walking to Holiday Oil with my younger sister to buy a treat during summer break. It was a big deal to earn trust from your parents and become more independent. We were excited but cautious. We obeyed traffic laws and didn't talk to strangers. We took our privileges seriously and gained more and more independence over time. My boys are doing the same. I smiled at this flashback in time and felt more joy and gratitude.

After a multi-hour park adventure, I decided it was time to head home. Marissa and Caleb asked if they could have a frosty too and I decided it was a perfect day for a treat on the way home from the park. I was also secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of the boys and make sure they were doing okay without looking like a was checking up on them.

I pulled into the Wendy's parking lot and THIS 👇 is what I saw.

My mama heart 💓 skipped a beat and I had to pause to catch my breath. MY BOYS! Look at my sweet, little (Um...I mean, not-so-little) boys! All dirty and grimy and sweaty from a day of hard work. Just LOOK at them!

The old school MasterCard commercial started playing in my head.

Two small chocolate frosties from Wendy's: 

$1

Bike and scooter for summertime adventure: 

$200

Brothers making memories that last a lifetime: 

Priceless

Cheeseball I know. But seriously! This picture was EXACTLY what I needed. I soon realized that what I originally thought was a priceless moment that I was fortunate enough to capture on my phone, was actually a tender mercy in disguise.  

It's been a rough week.  Busy.  Stressful.  And extremely emotional.  This picture reminded me that things are still okay.  Life is good.  There are blessings that surround me when I am able to slow down and be present.  When I don't push away joy for fear that darkness may lie just around the corner.  

Dylan and Preston are learning the value of hard work. They are gaining independence. They are working together AND playing together. They may argue and fight, but they also love and support one another.  

Marissa and Caleb are the sprinkles and glitter. They make life exciting and magical! They continue to amaze me with their creativity, and can turn anything into a game...or an EPIC ADVENTURE. Their giggles are contagious and their hugs can turn a hard, frozen heart into a GREAT BIG PUDDLE!  

 Fashion show

The BEST BREAKFAST EVER (just ask Caleb)!!

Their very own super hero changing space (on the front lawn) 

Constant adventure and excitement

I needed to know I was loved today.  I needed a reminder that joy can be found even during difficult times.  I needed a message.  And I received one.  It came in the form of a candid picture of two boys lounging on a dirty sidewalk outside of Wendy's with frosties, a scooter and a bike.  

A message of love.  

Of support.  

Of family.

A reminder to slow down.  

To breathe.  

To be present.

To walk barefoot through the grass.  

And feel the wind on my face. 

A reminder of simplicity.  

And joy. 

A reminder that I am still alive.

The Olive Tree

Marcos and I were recently asked to teach the mission prep class in our stake.  For those who may not be familiar with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, we have the opportunity to kind of train the young men and women considering serving a full-time 18-24 month mission for our church.

It was one of those callings that kind of caught us off guard (especially me), but within a very short period of time felt 100% right.    For whatever reason, we are meant to mentor this little group along at this specific moment in time.  And...I AM LOVING IT!!!

It sounds crazy because most of these kids are bigger than I am, but I feel like a mother duck with a flock of ducklings under my wing, ducklings eagerly following my awkward little waddle down to the pond.  They aren't newly hatched ducklings.  They are approaching adulthood.  And yet they still have a lot to learn, and we have been entrusted with their care.  We get to teach them the art of swimming - how to glide, how to paddle and when and where to make ripples that will continue forward and outward long after they have left the water.  It's an awesome yet humbling experience.

Yes I know they're geese, but you get the idea

We witnessed our first "mission call" moment yesterday.  One of our young women received her mission call last week.  She will be serving in Jamaica and leaves  in June.  I was so EXCITED when she told us about her call.  I may or may not have terrified her with my big mama bear embrace, but I COULD NOT help myself!  It was such a beautiful moment!!

We are learning all sorts of skills and covering all sorts of questions the kids have, but every week we leave a little bit of time for sharing thoughts, insights and experiences from the previous week.  It's probably my favorite part of class.  Yesterday, one of the boys from our class said he had been studying the allegory of the olive tree (Jacob 5), but that he read it differently this time as if the entire chapter was about him.  It was personal.  His words pierced my heart and I paused and reflected momentarily.  There were two scriptures I had been considering sharing and I still didn't know which direction I wanted to go with my comments.  Now I knew what I needed to say.  I silently thanked God for sending the Holy Ghost to direct me to the words best suited for our class that day.  I thought that was why his comment hit me differently.  I was wrong.

I knew I was close to that same chapter in my personal scripture studies, but I didn't realize that is the exact page I would turn to this morning.  I'd say it was a crazy coincidence, but the reality is that God is in the details of our lives.  It was a tender mercy, and I knew there was a reason I was reading the same chapter after a comment had been made in class yesterday.  The comment made by that young man echoed in my mind...
"It was about me.  It was personal."
As I started to read, an image of a beautiful olive tree took shape in my mind.

"...thus saith the Lord, I will liken thee...unto a tame olive-tree, which a man took and nourished in his vineyard..." (Jacob 5:3)

"And it came to pass that the master of the vineyard went forth and he saw that HIS OLIVE TREE BEGAN TO DECAY; and he said: I will prune it, and dig about it, and nourish it, that perhaps it may shoot forth young and tender branches, and it perish not."  (Jacob 5:4)

I started to cry.  This is MY story.  This is personal.  It is a story about me.  I am the olive tree that began to decay.  The reminder that Christ saw my decay, saw me wither and fail to produce fruit was a very powerful image for me.  The reminder that Christ came to prune and dig and nourish me when I started to decay brought tears to my eyes.    

"And it came to pass that after many days it began to put forth somewhat a little, young and tender branches; but behold, the MAIN TOP THEREOF BEGAN TO PERISH."  (v. 6)

Yes!  I remember that part too.  I began to perish.  For two years, I have struggled to thrive.  I barely survived.  I may have been alive, but I was definitely NOT living. 

"And it came to pass that the master of the vineyard saw it, and he said unto his servant:
IT GRIEVETH ME THAT I SHOULD LOSE THIS TREE...we will pluck off those main branches which are beginning to wither away and we will cast them into the fire that they may be burned." (v. 7)

More sobbing.  Christ DID NOT want to lose me.  And...there was definitely a need for a fire, to burn and destroy the dead and withering parts that were attempting to destroy my entire being.  Being pruned and burned is often a painful process.  But it was necessary.  

"And it came to pass that the servant of the Lord of the vineyard did according to the word of the Lord of the vineyard, and grafted in the branches of the wild olive-tree."  (v. 10)

"...It grieveth me that I should lose this tree; wherefore, THAT PERHAPS I MIGHT PRESERVE THE ROOTS THEREOF THAT THEY PERISH NOT, that I might preserve them unto myself, I have done this thing." (v. 11)

"Wherefore, go thy way; WATCH THE TREE, and NOURISH IT, according to my word."  (v. 12)

Oh my goodness.  Yes!  I was watched.  And I was nourished.  I was watched even when I didn't realize anyone was watching over me.  Even when I could not FEEL anyone looking out for me.  Even when the pain of the dead branches and the pruning made it impossible to see beyond myself.  I was watched and I was nourished.

"And it came to pass that the Lord of the vineyard looked and beheld the tree in the which the wild olive branches had been grafted; and IT HAD SPRUNG FORTH AND BEGUN TO BEAR FRUIT.  And HE BEHELD THAT IT WAS GOOD..." (v. 17)

Yep.  That's what's happening to me.  As the dead parts have been cast into the fire, the new tender branches that were grafted in are starting to take root.  I'm FINALLY starting to spring forth and bear fruit again.  I've been watched over.  I've been nourished.  And I am finally starting to bear fruit again like I used to before I began to decay.  I'm producing fruit again.  And the fruit I'm producing is good.  

"...Behold, the branches of the wild tree have taken hold of the moisture of the root thereof, that THE ROOT THEREOF HATH BROUGHT FORTH MUCH STRENGTH...Now, if we had not grafted in these branches, the TREE THEREOF WOULD HAVE PERISHED..." (v. 18)

The root hath brought forth much strength.  Yeah it has.  Another powerful reminder.  And a frightening thought.  Had this not happened, the tree thereof would have perished.  I was rescued from decay, from a state of withering and failing to produce fruit.  I was nourished and strengthened with digging, pruning and burning, with grafting and watering.  And if this hadn't happened...I would have PERISHED.  Quite literally.  I would have perished had I not been loved and nourished and taken care of by Christ and the angels on earth sent to help him save this dying tree.  And now...after a very long painful process, I am beginning to bring forth good fruit once again.  And who knows.  Maybe one day, I'll even be part of pruning and digging and helping to save another withering tree.