Sandy On My Mind

Yesterday was a long one.

I was glued equally to the internet and tv for most of the day

watching Hurricane Sandy's advancing waves to the

eastern US shores.

Growing up in Miami, Florida

and having lived in South Carolina thru Hugo,

and in Houston, Texas during Alicia

I know a little about the power of hurricanes:

if the water isn't the main concern

the wind certainly is.

Of course, my mind's concern and focus

was especially tuned into the force of nature this time

because of my girl:

who is serving a mission in New York.

I google earthed her apartment in Irondequoit

and found that she is surrounded by water--

less than a mile to the north is Lake Ontario

and on the east and west are both the Irondequoit Bay

and the Genessee River--she is less than a few blocks from the river.

All of those lakeshore areas had mandatory evacuations

and I kept checking the local news in Irondequoit for any news.

We got some information from her mission president assuring us

that our missionaries were all accounted for and safely tucked into their apartments.

I also got an email from Diana early in the morning,

here is a snippet:

Hey mom!

So we're allowed out of our apartment for just a few hours this morning to email and shop, but we're not allowed to work till wednesday. We're supposed to be the center of the storm, at least thats what we've heard. I've got my head light all ready to go, I bought a pair of cheap boots in case it floods and we made an early morning run to Walmart (6:30am...apparently Walmart doesn't open till 7 here! What the freak! So we stood outside looking like tired drowned rats till the doors opened) to buy some water and food. Apparently the electricity goes off all the time here when stuff like this happens. We're good though, there's just alot of rain.

That went along way to calm my heart, seriously!

But the reports coming out of New York and New Jersey
as the day went on,
were so dramatic,
that by nightfall,
I admitted to my husband that I was kind of a mess.

I went thru the motions of daily life
with a prayer in my heart
until bedtime and I
surrendered to my faith.

This morning came and again I flipped on the tv
to see the aftermath--
it is sobering to see the amount of damage up and down the east coast
and into the Appalachian mountains.
I checked online to see if Diana's apartment had electricity
or
if she too, is without power this morning.
When I pulled up the power companies' website map,
there, in the middle of alot of power outages,
her apartment shows that they have electricity!

And then,
we received this:

Dear Parents of New York Rochester Missionary

We did not see the predictions here in Western New York that were expected.  We had some rain and wind over night, cloudy and calm this morning.  Missionaries are all back to normal schedule.  We always appreciate all of your prayers and support.  We love our missionaries.

President Jack R. Christianson

Yes.

All is well.

We know that when a community where our missionaries are serving are hit with these kind of events,
they are called upon to get out and help wherever they can in the clean-up process.  I know my daughter will gladly put on those new rain boots and get out to work today.

And now, I will resume breathing on my own.

First World Problems

In an effort to keep perspective of the life
that is mine to lead and to own,
I have begun classifying my problems
as
"First World Problems".

Examples:

*We have our delicious hormone-free milk delivered
to our house
every Thursday morning.
It has been such since 2008.
And yet,
there have been heated discussions
in our home
about bringing the milk into the house
before yahoos leave for school.
Whose responsible?
Who did it last time?
Who did I tell to bring it in and they didn't?
And why oh why didn't I notice that two gallons of milk
sat in the little milk box
until mid-afteroon,
or worse--
until the next day
when it was surely sour by then?!

See?
First World Problem.

* Our icemaker in the fridge doesn't work.
Well, it actually does...
but then water leaks down into the fridge
when we turn it on.
This is a worse problem in the heat of summer
than it is right now.
But still,
now we must BUY our ice at the store;
which means we must REMEMBER to BUY ice.
There is currently in my freezer
Zero Ice.

*My ten year old people-movin'-Suburban
is a gas sucker.
It costs me $87 real dollars to fill it up
on Monday.

* Arianna's violin lost a tiny metal bit
that must be replaced
before she can play it in orchestra again.
I have procrastinated taking it into the shop
because
a) I don't feel like driving into town to get it done.
b) I drive a gas-guzzling People Mover.

*Mr. W's medicine for his arthritic knees costs $47.00
after insurance!
Forty-seven real dollars!
Outrageous!

*Remember when I had that surgery last April
and it was supposed to be the best decision of the 21st century for me?
Yeah.
That has proven to be Not So Much.
I have to go again and see "what else is about it?"

All of these things are First World Problems.

If I lived in a Third World Country:

*I would not even have milk. Much less delivered to my door come rain or shine or sleet or snow. Not ever ever ever.

*If I was lucky enough to have electricity, I am almost dead-certain I'd not have a refrigerator. What would I put in it? One would have to have water to have ice.

*I would not own a car.  We bought it brand new off the lot. And I had the money to put the gas in it, despite the cost.

*My child would not get free music lessons at her public school. Period.

* As expensive as the meds are, we at least have insurance to help us pay for the meds so Mr. W gets relief from pain.

Yes, I think this line of thinking does wonders for my psyche.

Just yesterday,
as I was being toted around by my friend, Nan--
we went to lunch and then she had a couple of errands to run
in preparation for her 10-day vacation to Maui
which she left for this morning--
and one of the errands was to pick up her extra supply of insulin
at the pharmacy.
There was a communication problem with the insurance company
and my friend had to fork over $280 for two small vials of insulin.
(For which she will be reimbursed.)
She was stressing out over the inconveniance of it all--
but then I said,
"You're having a First World Problem. At least you have the money to buy
the meds before you go on vacation TO HAWAII." 

It's true.
It makes a difference when you take a moment
and put your trials into perspective
of the grand scheme of things.
What we might consider
unfair,
inconveniant,
frustrating,
or costly,
changes when we step back
and think on how very different our lives
would be
if we did, indeed,
live in a Third World Country.

Actually,
if we just look beyond the end of our own noses,
we don't have to look far at all
to see others who have it far worse than us.

So the next time you are ready to crack under pressure,
try a different approach in your contemplation
and see if you're really having
First World Problems.


Now, if you'll excuse me
I GET to go heat up some egg drop soup (that I picked up from a Chinese restaurant)
for Arianna
because she GOT to go to the Dentist this morning
and get a filling and an extraction.

A Good Old-fashioned Stake Shake-Up

So remember two weeks ago,
when I lamented that our Stake had the
"Special Conference"
that turned out to be a little bit of nothing?

Yeah.
I've gotta hand it to our leaders;
they got the last laugh for sure.

Yesterday,
we went to Church thinking it was just
another regular Sunday
but it wasn't.

It was the Ordinary Sunday that wasn't,
if you get me.

Our sweet Stake President came
and announced most of the changes
we were expecting--
with zero hoopla.
None.
It was actually very nice
and un-fussy.

So,
here's the deal:
Our ward had a little chunk taken out of it,
as did a couple other wards
while one ward was completely dissolved
and all of the members in those areas
were brought together to make a brand new ward!
Some more rearranging was done
and two more wards were created as well.
And the new meetinghouse was at least
acknowledged and spoken of,
as much-needed for the great growth
we're experiencing in our stake.

The only big gasp came
when our new meeting time was announced--
8 am.
That. was. funny.
It's only an hour earlier,
but the groans mixed with laughter
woulda made one think we'd been asked
to make bricks without straw.

Once the new boundaries' map was passed out,
we were asked to stand up with the rest of our
"new ward"--
more than 3/4's of our ward stood together
and looking around,
we could see clearly our members that would be part of the
other "new ward".
It was at this moment
that I got a little choked up:
I saw way in the back,
Joseph's scoutmaster, Brother Alcorn.
He wasn't standing up with us.
I quickly glanced over at my boy
and saw his head in his hands,
his little chest trembling under his Sunday coat,
his bottom lip trembling.
He had seen Brother Alcorn's family sitting too.

My son,
who at 12 years old,
wears a size 13 in men's shoes,
is nearly 6 feet tall,
was sucking up his sudden feelings of loss
for a quiet, gentle leader.

Tears filled my eyes for him.
I looked to Mr W, who'd also taken notice of
our boys' reaction to the changes
and his eyes too were welled up.

When you see that kind of emotion in your child's eyes
for another adult,
it does something to you.
It's hard to watch.
The words don't come--
what can we say, really?
Dad put his arm on Joseph's shoulder
and patted him softly.
Joseph didn't look up,
just kept wiping his eyes
to hide the evidence of his overflowing heart.

Brother Alcorn isn't a big loud personality.
He's an experienced father of boys,
Eagle Scouts,
and yet is a strong presence when he's needed to be.
Mr. W has alot in common with him;
they've been to alot of scout camp-out with
a dozen 11-12 year old rascally boys
and survived to live another day!

In fact,
just this week the scouts are taking off for a 3-day Front Range Trek
along the base of the Air Force Academy rampart range.
Joseph being the "Quartermaster" of the troop
has spent most of the weekend
helping prepare his troop for the trek.

Brother Alcorn uses his work vacation days
to serve the scouts.
Does that say enough about him?
His wife and kids let him do that.
How cool, hunh?

Now, I know that whomever gets called to take his place
will be a good man...
we have those in abundance in our ward--
but he will have a big pair of hiking boots to fill.

I love and appreciate that my children have been blessed
by the calibur of adults they've had as teachers and leaders
in the church their whole lives.
As hard as it is to go thru the changes that growth demands,
it is always a blessing to get to know and support
the new people who come in and do their part too.

So that was the Stake Shake-up of 2012.
We go thru this about every two years,
no kidding.
***

Oh,
and a big P.S.!
Nana is doing alot better!
Thanks for all of your love and prayers!

When It's Hard to Be A Missionary Mom

See that brilliant young woman on the left?
Her sweet pink argyle sweater and awesome black name tag?
That's our girl.
Our Nana.
Posing with her lovely Texan companion, Sister Clark
in the Palmyra Visitor's Center.
From my house to hers it is 1651.71 miles
according to mapquest.
Yes, I google-earthed her place.
Totally.
Thank you inventor of Google Earth.

Anyway,
our girl loves
her companion,
the people, the place, the mission.
But right now,
she is super sick.
Her mission president's wife called last Sunday to let us know
just how sick our girl is,
and what's being done for her.
She has a bronchial parasite,
plus another virus,
had a PCOS episode where a cyst burst,
and in general is feeling awful.
"But, her spirits are up!"--reports the MP's wife.

Now, I know my girl.
And she is a good hairy-faker.
She wouldn't want anyone to make a big fuss over her.
Not even a little.

This is one of those times
when being a Missionary Mom tests my will.
I want to be brave, faithful, true and courageous.
I also want to
hop on a plane and be at her side in 3 hours
to check her out with my own eyes.
I want to wrap my arms around her soft shoulders
and squeeze her up in a fleece blanket,
kiss her cheeks and make my not-really-famous chicken noodle soup
for her and her companion whose been taking care of her.
I want to do her laundry,
and wash their dishes,
dust the house and mop the floors.
Stock their fridge and feed them their favorite treats!
I want to sit and listen to her tell me how awful she's feeling,
but also hear all of the things I have missed out on since she
became a Sister Missionary on August 8th...
I want to hear it all,
the good, the bad, the ugly, the awesome.
I want to hold her always-soft-as-silk hands,
and just tell her how proud of her we all are,
in person..
all that boob-ish, non-brave stuff.

But
I am here.
1651.17 miles away.
One thousand six hundred fifty-one long miles away.

I'd settle for a phone call,
because as my friend DeNae says,
it's not like our missionary kids are hostages, right?
(Thanks for that, DeNae, btw)
I could just dial my girl right up
and check on her;
but I'd have to pretend to be a bright and shiny Momza
just calling to be sure she's doing okay
and there'd be absolutely no allowance for boobish tears.
No crackling I-miss-you-so-much-noises in my voice.

She gets her hairy-faker act from me.

So there will be no three hour flight
or even a phone call--
not today anyway.

Instead, we've followed the MP's wife's advice--
we've written long letters full of encouraging words,
hand-drawn doodles all over the envelopes
and a goodie package with vitamin drops and lip balm,
her favorite Orbit gum (sweet mint) and a Cadbury Fruit & Nut bar,
and a little get well card tucked inside.
We've fasted and prayed with the whole family for her health to return quickly,
and sent our love out into the Universe for our girl
so she can get back to doing what it is she loves doing so much:
being a Servant.

I should check Guinness's World Records to see the record
for how long a Missionary Mom can hold her breath.

I bet I've beat it already.

Gossip is Alive and Well, Pass It On

So,
way back in August,
an announcement was made in Church
that the whole Stake was having a "Special Conference".

Having lived in this area for most of 14 years,
we've learned that when these
"Special Conferences" are called,
it's usually because our membership has grown so much
that adjustments are made to our boundaries,
new wards are created,
etc,. etc., etc.

This is enough fuel all on its own
to fill the pools of speculation
by all the hens in the henhouse
and a few of the roosters too,
if you get me.

The rumor mill was buzzin' to capacity
though
especially because The Church (as in Salt Lake),
bought 18 acres on our end of town,
and in case you're wondering,
that's enough land to build
a temple,
a Seminary building,
and a new Stake Center upon.

And it's about 2 miles from our house.

The chatter was loud and in unison that the
"Special Conference" was going to be a
Big announcement regarding that land.

It got a little ridiculous, actually.
One of our missionaries read a text outloud to us
that he'd recieved from a member,
"Can you tell me the dates when the new temple in Gleneagle will be built,
so we can plan on attending the open house? thanks."
Ridiculous.
Mostly, because the missionaries wouldn't know that kind of information
before the rest of us.

So, the weeks went by
and the chatter was flowing like melted butter on a hot bun...
"the new stake will be
The Flying Horse Stake",
"the temple will begin being built in December"
"this ward will be part of that ward"
"that Stake will be meeting in that building until the new stake center is built"
yada
yada
yada.
Endless.
And I'm a sucker for this kind of stuff, okay?
I would LOVE to have a temple closer than 65 miles away!
Love. It.

I was already daydreaming about going there every morning
before the yahoos got up for school,
n' going with my sweetheart for dates
every weekend.
Full-blown-high-def-surround-sound-fantasizing, ok?

SO.
The Big Sunday came.
We wanted to get a good seat in the chapel,
so we went to church 2 hours early.
And no,
we weren't the only ones there--
we weren't even one of the first families there.
Other folks had gotten there even earlier than us,
and within 15 minutes of our arrival,
the chapel was almost full.

The meeting was being satellite-broadcast to the other meetinghouses
in our Stake--
exactly as has been done in other "Special Conferences", ok?
So we're sitting there,
two hours early,
nervous energy about to spontaneously combust,
and all big smiles as the General Authority,
Walter F. Gonzales enters the chapel.
We also knew that Elder Holland was in the area,
as well as another G.A.--
so we're thinkin'--
"tem-ple. tem.ple. tem.ple. ooo yah ooo yah!!!"

I know it made no sense.
I know they don't announce new temples like this.
Okay, I know it.
Sorta.
That's what I've been told anyway.

So the meeting begins...
we  first hear a couple of talks--
one from a gal whose family has read the Book of Mormon this year
and her testimony of it,
and another one that I can't recall.
Then, our beloved Stake President stood and spoke of the glorious work in the temple.
This is it, I thought.
N' like coaxing a puppy to drop a sock,
I'm thinkin'
"C'mon....c'mon...drop that sock. tell us about the changes! Temple! Temple! Temple!"

But he didn't.
Hmmm.

Next the G.A. stood up to the podium.
Oh yeah, he's gonna be the messenger on this great day! Of course! It's only right."

So, I listened.
I listened with my ears,
and my eyes,
all my fingers and toes
and all the hairs on my head
were tuned into every.single.word.
comin' outta that man's mouth.

He was lovely. Inspiring. Equally touching and humorous.
And finished.

Nothing else.
Nothing about a new ward, new stake, new temple,
new-nothing.
Nothing, Nothing.

I looked over at Kent,
who shrugged his "I-wasn't-buyin'-all-the-hype" shoulders.
Talk about a let-down.

We pouted our way out to the car
and headed home.
Joseph said,
"They coulda emailed that stuff to us." to express his disappointment.

And yeah, I know,
it was just an absolute privilege to get to sit at the feet of a General Authority.
And that's exactly right.
The build-up was to blame for the let-down, no kidding.

Now, I forgot to share that Dara was not with us.
She didn't want to go two hours early.
She thought it was too early.
So she wasn't ready when it was time to go,
so we left her at home.
Even writing this now,
forces me see how stupid that was.

(live and learn, right?)

Okay so on the way home,
a brilliant light clicked on in my noggin:

WHAT ARE WE GONNA TELL DARA ABOUT THE MEETING?

Seeing as how the other two yahoos were with us,
I wondered how much I could get away with, ya know?

So,
I test the waters:

"Wow!" I said outloud in the car.
"We're gonna be in the new Stake That's so exciting!" I continued.
"And a temple! Can you believe it?!" I said raising my voice.

From the backseat:
{silence}

Okay, so the yahoos that were with us at the meeting,
didn't have a rebuttal, nothing.

Mwahahaha....

So
we get home,
change outta our Sunday clothes and sit down for the
crockpot dinner I'd begun the night before.

Daisie (Dara) comes upstairs and asks
"Well? What was the big announcement?"

"Oh, Day, you shoulda been there. It was awesome.
All kinds of changes are comin'.
First, we're in a new stake; the Flying Horse Stake,
and there's gonna be the new temple, stake center, and seminary building
just like everyone's been sayin'.
Oh and starting next Saturday at six a.m.,
all of the youth will be going to the temple site
to start clearing the land for the temple.
The Young Men will be digging the hole for the temple basement,
the Young Women will be using these screen things to sift the rocks outta the dirt,
the Primary children will scrub the foundation cement once it's poured,
to clean it before the flooring can go down--to keep it clean, right?
Of course, the Relief Society's assigned to feed everyone
and the Preisthood will be in charge of building the actual temple."

"What time do I haveta be there?"  Dara asked.

"Six a.m. Saturday."

"For how long?"

"Until it's finished, I guess." I answered.

"Hmmm. That's cool."

She turned to the yahoos, Joseph and Bee. "Is Mom right?"

Joseph and Bee just shrugged their shoulders.  (I was equally disturbed and happy at them: disturbed because they hadn't been paying attention to the meeting, and happy because they couldn't refute my big whoppin' tale."

Satisfied with her siblings response, she again replied, "Cool."

Now, I haveta say, it was SO STINKIN' hard to not crack a smile and confess the truth.
But, looking over at Kent whose face revealed nothing,
I just smiled and did not correct myself, yet.

Until.
Until later that evening as we were preparing for scripture study and family prayer.
We gathered upstairs in the loft,
and as if on cue,
Joseph asked, "Are we really in the Flying Horse stake, Mom?"

Finally!
I laughed and gave away my secret.
Dara's eye widened and she glared at me,
"You're ridiculous, Mom!"

"I know!", I hung my head.
I know.
And a little bit awesome.

Rocky Mountain High in Colorado...

We took to the mountains last weekend

 to catch our breath

to slow down for a moment

and 

just Be.

 Nature did not disappoint.

 We grabbed our coats, packed some food 

and started driving

without a plan,

no expectation.

Colorado mountains are beautiful

north and south

so we could fly by the seat of our pants

and our souls would still end up 

wonderfully

dilirously

fed...

 I felt my cares ever so gently being lifted off,

the golden aspens demanded attention

from all of my senses.

Fall + Aspens + Mountains= Euphoria

Welcome to the Cathedral of the Aspens...

let go,

come sit a spell,

find your "you" again... 

 As Mr. Wonderful and I sat on this ridge,

I felt the first emotional release rise in my throat

and sure enough,

tears well-up...

 I squeezed my man,

"Don't ever take me away from here. I love this land too much."

 These trees,

these glorious symbols of god's perfect design in nature,

open my eyes

and fill my heart with 

gratitude

for the blessings I have been given.

 These yahoos have to endure a life with a sentimental mother

who directs their eyes to look for the

wild beauty

and be grateful! dang it!

 These kids who've been at each other's throats 

since school started,

actually laughed and embraced 

welcomed each other back into their sphere...

 That's what happens when the Aspens call out to you...

all the good stuff that's been tucked away

under school schedules and team practices,

homework and house chores

pile up and squish your guts.

 Yahoos "photo bomb" one another's special pictures...

 And complete happiness wiggles right out of you....

 so that mom only gets one "good" picture for our missionary whose far away in New York.

 With the fall weather so mild still,

the boys packed their flyfishin' gear

 Is it really October already? In Colorado? 

 Give that boy a fishin' line, Pa.

 Pretty sure this boy's got the world by the tail right now....

 The Platte river was movin' slow and so low in places, 

this man-child could sit in it and fish...

seriously, 

cool.

 Little girl had to try the weighters on herself...

she waded out in the water,

took a tumble in,

got a little wet,

but when she decided she was alright,

she had a blast!

 This teenager is smiling,

definitely under the spell of the Aspens...

 She completely surrendered to the call of the wild...

A Colorado girl at heart, through and through...

If heaven has a church,

 nature leads the way to get there.

 NO reservations necessary,

but these heavens 

are only open for a season,

so grab your family,

your best flyin' pants

and take a trip 

to 

the Cathedral of the Aspens.