voicemail from Pa

"Lynny,

Where are you when I need you?

We got an elk on the mountain and we need to pull it off.

Anyway, just calling to say hi.

Bye."

13 November 2012 3:47 p.m. PST


I miss you too, Dad.

30?

That's how many years I'll have in two and a half weeks.  I've been thinking about this ever since November started, and I still can't wrap my mind around it.

when i revert to being a big bad bookworm

I haven't simply read for the pleasure of reading for a while, and boy did it show these last few days.  I checked  out The Perfect Mile on Saturday and had it finished by Monday. I checked out Left Neglected and Breaking Night on Wednesday. I read the first on Wednesday and the second yesterday.  It was nice to zone out in a few books, but I haven't focused on other things as much/well as I should have.  Andrew and I are both giving talks on Sunday and I need to get to work on my talk.  Laters.

thoughts

When I look at pictures of 3-9 month old Eamon, it's strange because I remember him being chubby, but he really was a chubster.  So cute.

The book I requested from the library is in.  I'm excited because I haven't really read anything since we moved.  I've been slowly making my way through Rough Stone Rolling, but I'm ready for something a bit more "recreational."

I'm loving our current weather. I could live like this for a long time.  It's so much better than those 100 plus afternoons.

Just found out my brother, his wife, and their new babe will be coming back to Utah for Christmastime.  I'm so excited to kiss and hold that little baby!!!

I also can't wait for Thanksgiving in Utah.  Can't wait to see everyone and spend time with them. Huzzah!

Eamon is still sleeping in!  Love it.  He's usually up by 6:30 and it's 7:51.  Oh, now I hear him.

Laters!

a Sunday drawing

Click on the picture if you're interested in the full masterpiece.  Ha!

another reason for loving words

I came across this poem this week and I love it.  Now I share it:

blessing the boats

by Lucille Clifton

(at St. Mary's)
may the tide
that is entering even now
the lip of your understanding
carry you out
beyond the face of fear
may you kiss
the wind then turn from it
certain that it will
love your back   may you
open your eyes to water
water waving forever
and may you in your innocence
sail through this to that

"When do you write your poetry?"  Rachel asked me.  She's great.  She actually believes what I write can be termed poetry.  She also inspires me to write.  Because I haven't been.  Besides the occasional journal entry or entry in Eamon's book, I haven't written anything creatively for a long time.  But as I read over old ideas, the spark reignites.  I love writing.  So I think I'll give it a go and start sharing some stuff again on my writing blog...as long as E naps, but he's up now.  Maybe tomorrow...

moving and missing

i knew the hardest thing about this move (for me) would be leaving behind so many of our lovely family members.  but i never thought i would cry when we started singing "shake your sillies out" on one of our first nights here.  it simply wasn't right in my heart to know i won't see these two blond-headed boys shaking, clapping, jumping, and having a grand old time together on an almost daily basis anymore.
it hasn't gotten any easier yet; we've only been here a week.  but technology is awesome and we've already been able to video-chat with some of those we moved away from.   
so we go.  and keep going.

Ray Hardy Clark: 14 September 1925 – 30 July 2012

My grampa passed away yesterday.  Boy, am I going to miss him.  I'm glad he got to go peacefully, though.  He's such an incredible example to me.  I love you, Grampa.

only three more days in May

too fast.
i want to slow everything down.
everything for me.
selfish?
so
i can hold my boy a little longer before his nap.
so
i can gaze at the mountains more deeply on a rainy morning.
so
i can rest side to side with my love and speak a thousand more soft words.
so
i can run another mile and feel stronger and braver for the day ahead.
so
i can call everyone i've been meaning to call but haven't because by day's close i'm beyond ready to curl up in bed.



just some thoughts.



i cut up mushrooms, peppers, and olives in mom's kitchen tonight.
dad said, it goes by too fast.  he looked out the window at eamon playing in the water with his uncles.

those are probably not his exact words, but what he voiced contained similar sentiment.

i responded, yeah, before i know it, eamon will be a dad.

mom quickly said, don't say that. 

it's true, i thought, though.  it's all going way too fast and i'm powerless to slow anything down but my breathing.  so slow it i will.  i will deepen it as well--for all the moments when i need to be present enough to remember the joy, sadness, beauty, happiness, or originality of a fleeting instance.

strength

Pilgrims on their knees.
Weary.
Knees worn and bleeding.

This is life.

Yes, I know. There is so much good in my life and in the lives all around me. The goodness of life is grand. All the joy. All the smiles. All the sunshiny moments.

But there's a dark and a troubled side too. We go and go and go and go, often past the point when we don't know how to keep going at all. So every time I hear "God Be with You Till We Meet Again" I now see a picture of endurance. You go and go and endure and go and endure. So tired in the end that you're left in a kneeling heap. Effort. It takes all you have to raise your head from your prostrate position at his feet. Yes, you made it. Come into my rest.

The above words reflect some thoughts I wrote down last September; I've continued to mull them around, especially during the last couple months. There hasn't been a day since Tawna's passing I haven't thought of her. Every day I think of her strength and endurance; I marvel at her fortitude. She has blessed my life for good. Boy, I have a long way to go, but I'm grateful I don't have to go it alone. Every day I'm blessed by the smiles of others, by the love of my family, by the beauty of this earth, and by so many things I would never be able to stop counting.

cheep

My aunt got herself an early birthday present, in the form of chicks. We went and saw them last week. Sooo cute! Eamon learned a new word--cheep--and said it many a time as we sat there, watching them roam about on the grass.

I love spring! And I love all my lovely family that's so nearby. You know who you are, and you're the best. Happy first day of spring!

rest

My morning runs and swims free me from "forethought[s] of grief," especially with Tawna so close to the veil now. Too many thoughts swirling round. To simply sum up: I'm going to miss her, but she will be free from her failing body--and such freedom will be joyful and relieving.

The Peace of Wild Things
by Wendell Berry

When despair grows in me
and I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be.
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting for their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world and am free.

old emails make me smile

like ones from 2006, when I was in Ukraine, apparently pleading for my sister to send me some electronic mail:

rat-a-tat-tat-tatty

every week, i get my hopes up high, higher than jane and michael ever flew their kites, that i'll get an e-mail from you, and then every week my kite gets caught, cut, wounded, bloddied, clubbed, and rent in the likes of a whomping willow tree when i see that there is not a word from my beloved guya.

basically i almost die a bloody death when i'm left without anything from you.

because i love you.

and i want to hear from you.

i love you.

have a great week,

skabsislyn

Her response:
Well, I sent you a letter so you can't die a bloody death. You shall recieve it soon, hopefully. Also, are you allowed to abbreviate your name like that?

a Sunday morning

Eamon has some awesome mad-scientist hair after bathtime. The light came in his window so gloriously as Andrew was dressing him that I couldn't help taking lotsa pictures. My boys are pretty handsome.

Marmee gave E the cutest church outfit for his birthday. On a whim last week, I tried it on him; I thought it wouldn't fit because he's almost 14 mths and the outfit is 24 mths. Well, the top--white shirt, vest, and tie--fit perfectly but the pants were very many inches too long. So we dress him in his jeans on bottom and the rest on top. Thanks, Marm, for the fun and cute outfit. I just love the tie on him. Here he is with it on last week:

grammas and grampas: all great

Gramma wouldn't even let me do the dishes after supper. I stood at the sink ready to fill it with sudsy water, but she demanded I come sit back down at the table. I complied.

Dad ended up doing the dishes.

And watching my baby all weekend long so I could coach the swimmers at the meet.

Gramma and Grampa cooked a feast for breakfast as well. I savored my grapefruit, pancakes (with apple topping AND syrup), sausage, banana, and 2% milk. I felt like royalty.

They gave us a sackful, a bulging sackful, of potatoes and onions from their glorious garden.

As if all that wasn't quite enough, what sealed the deal was the surprise bottle of raspberries I found as I was unpacking our stuff last night.

I'm spoiled. Really. I'm so blessed I feel I can't return proper or adequate thanks.

By their fruits ye shall know them.

They are so good to me. Sounds like a primary song, no?

A bottle of raspberries. A tall cool jar full of the most delicious taste; it takes me straight back to Gramma Roth's kitchen. And then to her cellar. I miss her. I wish I could still go visit her and sit on her porch, made warm by the afternoon sun. I wish I could hug her and feel her arm around my waist.

I enjoyed a treat last night. I poured a mugful of those raspberries, along with the sweet red juice, and paired it with a graham cracker. Savored every bite.

Thanks for the lovely weekend, Gramma, Grampa, and Pa. Hoping to return thanks in some way by striving to possess as much goodness as you.

book report

One of my favorite people and teachers, Chris Crowe, recommended A Monster Calls to me. I bought it off Amazon using the gift card Rachel and Ryan gave me (thanks guys!).

About this book:

Wow.

It hit very close to home. I know that's a cliche of an idiom, but really, with Tawna not doing very well and having digressed so quickly the last few months, it made me think even deeper and harder about life, death, meaning, love, letting go, and many other things.

I loved the book. To me it's very touching in an almost disturbing way--a way I needed at this very moment in my life.

The art is stunning.

Image found here.

"The New York Times" review may be found here.

today

I miss writing here, in this space. Lots has happened the last two years of my life and that whirlwind, many parts good and a few parts hard, has swept me away from here. For some reason I also shy away from writing about what my life is now. But I'm going to try to get over that and post what I feel like posting and if it's too much of Eamon then that's just too bad because I spend most of my time with him and most of that time is glorious. He really is my sunshine, though sometimes he morphs into a bath monster, as evidenced below.


Today I'm grateful for: Andrew, Eamon, family, friends, my jogging stroller, sleep, food, my job, scriptures, our own little corner in the world, walks, snow, warm showers, prayer, family night, games, hot dog boats, and books.