Lucky 7

 

Each time the heavens open, someone is gathered home, or brought to earth.  I've given enough to the heavens, so I took one from it.  One of my beautiful daughters brought the house down with a new addition.  She's perfect, she's loved, she's amazing.  Ginger goodness - is what her mommy said.  Every prayer was answered, every moment played out perfectly, and she arrived at just the right time.  I'm pretty sure I'm in love - and I can't wait to see all the amazing things her parents will teach her.  I know she's a part of all of the healing I'm searching for.  My grandchildren are all just amazing and I find myself many times in prayer - thanking the heavens for opening in such a blessed way.  Welcome to our family - you are magical and loved... This little ginger is now not an only child - because this Ginger joined the family...



Thunner and Lightin'.....

This past weekend a nightclub in Orlando, Florida was the sight of the largest mass shooting in the states.  50 human beings including the shooter were killed - no basically slaughtered.  It broke my heart.  It may be far away from where I live, but yet it was right in my back yard to me.  This is the 20th mass shooting in the past 8 years - each getting worse, and more violent, and the loss of life and broken hearts is never ending it seems.  The shooter sided with an extremist group and also declared his hatred of LGBTQ groups.  In my faith I do not believe it the LGBTQ cause - but I do believe in the people - and I have many friends who I very much care for.  The plight will also make the Muslim faith a target yet again - and yet again, some of my sweetest, kindest, gentlest friends are Muslim.  All are children of God, all are precious, all are my brothers and sisters.  When I find myself afraid of being anywhere almost these days - my biggest fear is that my children will be hurt or their children.  Like out of no where a lightening strike hits.  Things can be replaced but people cannot.  I cannot even fathom the aching hearts from this horrid event.  As these events occur I find myself talking to each one of my children and checking in with them.  The night of the shootings, after injured after injured human were moved to hospitals, the rain in Florida started falling.  I pray it was to begin the washing or the healing somehow.  The texts from inside the building from injured and dying humans to their outside loves were heartbreaking.  Most were sent to their Mothers, telling them of their love for them.  Of Mothers pleading for them to hold on.  Then no more texts came. 

 

 

Today - it's a thunder and lightening day in my state.  The storms rolled in and pounded the valley.  I was called off of work today and so it was sweet to just be home safe and sound and away from the storm.  But my family was all out there in different places.  Even one of my sons experienced the storm after it left us and it hit the state he was on a business trip for.  We all seemed so far away.  But then the texts started.  Dozens and dozens of the funniest texts and videos of the storm were posted in our group text.  Some movie lines were quoted, and cartoons loaded, and a lot of funny comments.  I loved every one - because it meant we were still all ok.  We were still a family that cares.  The texts represented comfort and caring and our crazy sense of humor that exists.  When the moments of fear came we heard from each other, we made plans for the weekend, we lightened the moment.  How much it touches my heart that we have each other.  All of the storms of life that come - the moments of absolute sadness and helplessness that are comforted by a simple text of... hey I love you.  As long as I live I will try to live so that the word I say to my family are the ones that if they are my last - will ring true to the love I have for them, for the pride I feel for who they are, and the love and testimony that we chose a faith that we know where we came from, why we are here, and where we are going.  I cannot live with fear but I can live with faith.  This week we welcomed a Soldier back home, and we'll probably be welcoming a new little grand daughter into the world.  We were blessed to have family travel safely on a trip and return home to a safe home.  We have children traveling for work and know that they are watched over.  We have new homes going to be started and new memories to make.  In the storms of life - we have to still look to the good in life.  When lightening strikes, we need to be prepared at all times to call upon our Heavenly Father for strength.  Or to call upon him to comfort others where the storms are more vicious.  Perhaps to a mother on her knees in Florida asking why.  Are your ready for the storm?   

 

 



Betweens

Well - it's Springtime in Utah.  That means that it's snowing one day, and 60 degrees the next.  Utahans have a way of always saying - 'well we need the snow because we live in a desert' which in itself is an oxymoron.  I love it all.  I can't imagine living anywhere else - and no I'm not narrow minded or untraveled... I just like my seasons and the seasons between the seasons.  In February I went out and raked my yard, and tilled the garden with all of it's yummy rotting leaves from last fall.  The next day, I had my car in 4 wheel drive just to get down the street.  The betweens - I just love them.  Spring Summer between - where you still need a little sweater in the morning, but shed it by 2 pm.  Then the fall when the air starts smelling of orange and the sweater is worn mostly put on at 2 pm.  Then those pumpkins that just freeze up just after Halloween and become 100 year old pumpkins before the snow hits them.  I love the betweens.  I only know that because the calendar says it's Spring - but yesterday morning I put a coat on to go to the gym, but only wore my scrubs to work tonight.  Today it will be 70 degrees and on Tuesday - it's scheduled to snow.  LOVE IT.  Never a dull moment in this beautiful state. 

Come visit - and see for yourself. 

 

now let's see what I can dream up to plant in my garden this year...

Being a sitter...

When I was a little girl I would earn money for tending other people's children.  Funny, because I'm the kid that was/is afraid of being alone, AND being scared to death of the dark.  I would earn 35 cents an hour - and sometimes that was for 3-4 children.  I was fine right up to the point that all of the children were tucked in bed asleep that I realized I was in a strange house, alone, (well being the oldest person in the room at 12 or 13) and yes, it was dark.  I would flip the channels on the TV, make sure the house was clean and dishes done and put away - rooms tidied up - basically working myself through the fears.  But eventually reality would set in and I would become scared.  I've always been a scaredy cat - probably always will be.  I remember when my husband would travel for work for a week at a time several times a year - I would lay awake and just watch over the kids.  I know, weird.  After my children married and left the nest - when hubby would travel I would just stay awake all night - and try to take a nap during the day so I could then again stay awake again the next night.  I would have all of the lights on and the music on and the tv going..... I know, weird.  I don't think I will ever change.  I don't like to be alone.  I can't stay in my parents home now they are gone, alone - because it's an interesting home.  I'm pretty sure I'll need to cross to the other side before my husband does because I refuse to be here alone without him.

 

So, ironically, today I'm a sitter.  I work at a hospital in Labor and Delivery.  Some weeks we have a lot of babies and some weeks we are looking for pregnant women on the street to bring in to have their babies.  Ok kidding.  But due to scheduling we are called off out shifts and we have to use filler time off or we can be reassigned to another area of the hospital.  I've been in the ER and ICU as a sitter.  Sitting with patients that come in that are suicidal, overcoming overdoses, sometimes because of the effects of alcoholism, some from other severe needs that require 24 hour presence in the room.  We are required at my hospital to take a De-acceleration course to be allowed in these excessive situations.  Because of HIPPA laws I cannot comment on any patient by name or id but I can say that I've seen some pretty sad situations.  Sometimes my heart breaks, sometimes it makes me very angry at what people allow happen to their lives.  I guess I'm no different - being scared of the dark and of being alone, but there are more frightening things out there that people endure.  Today I'm sitting with someone that is withdrawing from alcohol.  This person can talk to me in random jibberish, but the words that I do recognize are fear, and home, and alone and darkness.  I watch them finally sleep - letting the medicine to help them work their magic on their mind and body.  It's a sweet sleep - no frantic fighting or fear of being left behind.  The need to be somewhere, the devastation that no one has come to find them.  Today is hard to watch.  I document things on a 15 minute basis - on a number system, vitals are taken, safety is an issue, for them, and for me.  Today I'm getting time and a half to be a sitter - a long shot from those years past.  But I find myself tidying up the room, turning the lights on, changing the channel on the TV, trying to stay awake.... and the fears of my past and my present are still alive in me.  When the darkness comes, this patient will be awake, fighting the fight to be released.  As I look at them sleeping now - they are beautiful.  They are someone's child.  No one would know the battle within from the peaceful sleeping human under the blankets.  I wish there was some kind of peace for them.  I take these images home in my mind and I have to file them away.  I think I'll stick with the babies... but now and then I need to be a sitter.  Because if I don't sit with them, they'll be alone.  Being alone is not something anyone should ever be.  If you're alone, I'll be there for you.  I might have the TV on, the lights on and be wide awake at 2 AM... but you won't be alone.  Take a minute and reach out to someone before they become the person in fetal position in the bed inches from me.  Everyone is worth it. 

 

Every electric bill is worth light, sound, and company. (: 

A few boxes here and there

 

 

It's been a year.

I seriously think someone posted this

thought on Facebook just for me. 

(Someday when I read this I'll say,

wow - remember Facebook?)

(huh, and you're saying - remember Blogs?)

 

I have not survived this year with grace.

Grace is a gift - and I keep opening empty boxes,

or I think they are empty.

What I have found is that they are empty for a reason.

They are meant to be filled again.

 

So during this night I have considered filling

these boxes that are waiting to collect moments

of gratitude, and hope, and love.

and there they were,

all of them.

 

 

 

New babies.

New jobs.

New sacred places to rest my broken heart.

New friends,

New hope for better health.

New goals,

New dreams

New eras of life that need to be explored.

New reasons to have more courage.

New abundances of blessings only dreamt of.

New states where my children live.

New homes where they will stay close by.

New baptisms in our family.

New commitments to my faith.

New reasons to pray.

New friends to cherish.

More, of all the good stuff

I'm looking for.

New Grace.

 

Happy New Year

 

(Most excellent family of mine)

and

Happy July

Little Miss Big Sister.

 

 

Um. Where have you been Momma Bear?

So apparently, life goes on if you blog or not... but it sure makes for long periods of time unaccounted for.  I think that this week has been the first time I've exhaled since last fall.  I credit my family for holding me up and keeping my faith in many things going.  Lucky me.   I feel that a million years has passed in the last 4 months and I have failed the blog world.  I hope that the stalker from the Netherlands has missed me.  Never the less - life has changed a bit... and I have no pictures.  Just some random words.

 

I left the Assisted Living world as a Med Tech.  I watched my most precious ancient leave this world.  I held her in my arms and broke the news to her that there wasn't going to be any Cheese Puff Balls in heaven.  She hadn't moved in a few days, and she broke out into a smile.  She left that night.  I know she's happy.  I have watched so many of them leave, and I was getting heart heavy, so I changed my plan.

 

I took a giant leap and tried for my millionth time to move to a local hospital in Labor and Delivery.  This time - they wanted me - and I nearly had a stroke.  I interviewed with some of the most amazing nurses, they were tough chicks, but they had to be.  I sat in the waiting room with those interviewing that were 1/4th my age, and my heart sank.  But I put myself out there and honestly answered the questions asked and left it all in their hands.  The day I got the job I cried.  I never thought I would.

 

I spent the next few months passing off all of my certifications to be able to be an OB tech.  I get to scrub in with doctors and pass all of their lovely surgical tools, and see people come into the world instead of leave the world.  I've never been so scared in my life - but felt that it was always something that the big guy upstairs helped me with every single time I bring the blade up to a doctor.  There are some sad days, but I know of the plan, and I know that those precious ones that do not make it, are safe and sound,  I care for their mommies and comfort them.  We do need to have experiences in all things. 

 

This new chapter has consumed me to this point.  Every single spare day was spent studying, and scrubbing in, and passing off, and failing, and trying again.  It stretched me to the limits of who I am and what I thought I could do.  But it came as a sacrifice, as I felt I've let my family down with Grandma things and family things - with random shifts and required courses.  For this I have beat myself up.  Today - I have to let that go - and see that it is what needed to happen.  Things may... (carefully said) chill out and I can enjoy only 3 12 hour shifts instead of endless hours.  I wish my mom could have known what I've done.  I wish I could be more, but I am good with the present smile at hand.

 

Tonight - it's a long shift.  There are tiny sounds of beautiful babies from the rooms.  There are moms to comfort, co-workers to team up with, and needs here and there.  I work in a safe, warm, beautiful place of beauty.  There are babies to bathe, heartbeats to hear, broken water stories to tell, and Lorna Doones to snack on.  I have a moment to breathe.  To count my blessings of this hard earned goal, and to finally wear those really fun hard earned green scrubs.  I learn new lessons every time I walk into an OR.  I share those moments of joy, and I, perhaps am guilty of having a tear stained mask.  All worth the sacrifices.  I'm excited for the new little ones that will come into our immediate family and my extended family.  They are obviously going to be the cutest ones ever.  Blessings.

 

Perhaps the Surgical Gods will allow me to be forgiven for neglecting my family - and rejoice in new plans for this new year. The leap of faith was worth it.  It taught me something very important about myself, and it was a humble lesson to learn. 

 

Gown up, it's time to work. 

little tender mercies

and so... the calls and tears of "I'm not pregnant this month" came to an end and the miracle of life began.  I watched my sweet daughter going through the heartaches of wanting to be a mom again and we shared those tears monthly.  She was grateful to be a mom to a handsome son already but her heart is so big she wanted to give more love.  This little amazing human being began his journey to earth.  Developing day by day and dream by dream.  I waited in the waiting room the day he was born.  Many nurses passed me by and handed me Kleenexes - and I assured them that they were tears of joy.  This little man came into the world strong and healthy.  This little man added to the tradition of the 'Merriman Men'... and oh such a handsome one he is.  So on this Grandparents day - I wanted to shout out to my Grandkids - all six - unless anyone has a secret... that you are magnificent - and grand - and important - and priceless - and wanted - and expected to be the best you can be in this life - by me.  "Every baby is the sweetest and the best"  Thank you big guy upstairs for sending yet another miracle.  Oh and thank you Mom - I know you held this one before he came - and put that gigantic butt dimple on his chin.  Priceless.  Enjoy Life little man.  You are loved.

mmmmm..... dirt.

It's time to dig in the dirt.  Oh I love dirt.  I have my rituals of picking out my seeds, and my veggie starts.  I love the smell of the greenhouse and adventures of finding two gardening gloves that actually match in my shed.  I pull out all the stops on tools, shovels, claws, rakes, and the hose.  My lawn greens up and I feed it and mow it.  It looks like velvet now that I actually have a mower that all the wheels are the same height.  I buy 4 new perennials every year, something strange that will come back every year and get bigger and then I split it up and make it grow somewhere else.  In inspect my trees and look at their bark and make sure they are healthy and strong... going to need some apples this year.  I uncover my birdhouses covered from the winter and know that the bees will live there yet again. I love planning out my garden - it's not my dad's big old garden - but I have sprinkled a baggie of his dirt in it once just for his magic.  I hate tomatoes - but I always plant them and watch them blossom, grow beautiful red and then I smash them.  My favorite moments are right before I bury any seed or plant any plant.  I pull up my chair right next to the garden and I just drink in it's vibes.  Crazy eh.  I visualize what this or that would do in which spot - or rotate spots from the year before to rest the soil.  Then I go into my kitchen and look out the window and think of what I want to look out and see all summer long.  Then I get to work lining up seeds the right distance apart and the right depth, rake over the soil, and wish them luck.  My little garden might not be very big but it yields growth like crazy.  I sing my songs to it, and I rid it of it's weeds, and I give it wonderful eggshells to help it grow.  When I step into it - the world disappears and it's just quiet to me.  The quail love to nest in the raspberries and their babies can be seen running along the little indents where the seeds will come up.  I love this gene in me, and the love my dad gave me for growing things.  I love that my kids love dirt under their fingernails also.  I love to plant... I'm excited to plant... I'm waiting to plant... I'm wanting to plant... but it's been raining for 3 solid weeks and all my seeds and plants are still tucked in a warm safe place until the sun shines enough to plant them.  Except for the tomatoes.... I left them out in the cold.  Leaves me more time to decide where to plant things I guess.  Can't mess with Mother Nature.

Hey Me Mudder...

Some people dread different things - events, or expectations - life happenings, certain days.  Today, it's the day I knew was coming and there was no stopping it.   On a day when people honor their Mothers and hug them and do special things for them... I am without, for the first time ever.  But I also know that most people that dread things, survive and look back on those times and say - it made me stronger.  I woke after about only an hour of sleep last night.  I watched the clock tick over to the 12:00 am red glare, May 10th, 2015.  "Here it is", I said.  I spent the rest of the night looking at pictures, playing videos over and over, and actually testing God's patience in asking to just hear her voice once more.  I talked out loud to her - silly but true.  I told her how sorry I was for letting her down so many times, and for not canning enough beans, and for taping up the hem of something instead of sewing it like she would have.  I told her that I actually didn't like her meatloaf, and when she made liver and onions I almost called child social services.  I thanked her for being the smile at the ball park, or the track, or the basketball or volleyball games.  I remembered her laughter and tears about life choices she had no choices in.  I spent a lot of time wishing her hand on my face, and to hear the words, "You just made my day" when it was actually her that had made mine.  I still didn't hear her voice, I still didn't dream of her.  I fretted over the cupcakes I needed to make and if they would be pretty enough or in the right paper, and I knew she had given me that silly thought. Our last words together were in prayer - I always had such a hard time leaving and driving the long ride home alone.  I would gather her hands in mind and kneel next to her wheelchair and we would pray together.  That is one thing I will always be thankful for - our prayers were precious, as they were expressions of love and concerns and brought peace and hope in our dark times.  Yesterday I wanted to see my daughters, the mothers of my grandchildren, the next generation of my mothers genes.  So. Much. Beauty.  When I'm with them, the crater in my heart from missing my mom is gently filling.  They buffer the pain, they tenderly expose the path ahead of hope and love.  Mom's day is a very special day.  Gratitude is such a small word for such a huge person.  Each memory of my mom is now a treasure, to reopen when needed and to hold dearly.  It's a gentle reminder that I need to be better at making a few treasures for my own kids, and grand kids.  But just for today, this long first time, this exhausting day of moments and thoughts and regrets and thankfulness... I might just be a little girl, her little girl.  Tomorrow - I'll be a Mom again.

this... is going to be wonderful

I think that the most precious thing a daughter of God can do is bring forth beautiful babies and teach them to be wonderful human beings.  I rejoice every time I hear... 'we're going to have a baby'.  I love my daughters and daughter in law for making this dream come true for me.  My daughter asked me if I had any pictures of her when I was pregnant with her.   Well... I seriously didn't look this fantastic, and actually I only have a few pictures of me being preggo mammoth mountain - which I resembled to a capital 'T'.  But I always wrote the stories of when I had them - or found out I was going to have them... or afterwards how much I fell in love with them even before they came.  We celebrate each new life in our family - we recognize Gods plan for a Man and a Woman to marry in the Temple, a place where families can be sealed together, and their children become children Born in the Covenant.  I can't wait to hold this new little man coming so quickly.  I am anxious to see all of the things his big brother will teach him about pirates and leggos and magical places.  I cheer mommas tummies all over the world and pray that they arrive safely in their parents arms to become the next generation of Heavenly Fathers plan.  I celebrate my 5.5 grandchildren and hope that they know they are precious in every way to me.  Just like their parents were many times over.  Happy Tummy Day.  Oh... you want to know more?  I don't mind sharing...  LDS.org   Life is precious - don't waste a moment.

.....my heart will never be the same.

48 hours after returning from the hospital from my surgery, at which the doctor said, "Go home and DO NOT MOVE...."  my beautiful mother June Murray Hill Bowen passed away to be with my daddy on Valentines Day.  I woke up that morning and it was the day all of the tubes had to come out of my shoulder.  It was so painful and by the time I was able to get cleaned up and helped back into bed I felt I should call and talk to my mom.  The aid said that her breathing pattern had changed and she was probably going to pass in 24 hours.  I frantically gathered my things - so totally drugged up - not knowing how to get to Logan.., but within a hour the call came that she had passed.  I had missed it.  I let her down.  I wasn't there.  I had failed her.  She had slipped away on her own to join her glorious family on the other side.  I was alone when the call came, I cried a cry that I've never heard before come from my soul.  All that I had inside me was shattered in a million pieces.  She was the light of my soul.  There will be times I want to write about her - and the moments since then.  The privacy of my grief consumes me and I have hidden in the darkest corners of my soul.  I cannot breathe some days.  Other days I find myself thinking about what she would have done in situations and I find a moment of a smile.  I know she is happy - I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she is whole and beautiful and complete.  I know now that she knows all the things the Lord promised her before she came to this earth that he would help her with - he did.  Her soul, her life, changed the world for many people.  Preparing for her funeral, with the situation at hand with my surgery was more than I could bear.  Preparing words to speak about her - joyful and painful.  She lifted your spirit with just a flash of those blue eyes - and there will never be now or ever anyone like her.   How proud I am of her life, and her love, and her devotion to her family, her faith, and to my dad.  Tributes to her were precious and poinient.  My times with her were tender and precious.  We LIVED when we were together - we LAUGHED, we SERVED, we completed sentences the same.  She is my precious mother forever.  My children were BLESSED by her every being.  THEY GET IT - they will pass it on - for this... I can begin to begin again - because in their eyes - I see her.  There have been experiences that I would like to write about - but until now I just couldn't start to write again until I posted a few things.  Maybe she'll free my heart to tell those stories now.  I love you forever and a day.  I hold your heart, I hold your heart in mine.  I love you.

Rubber side down, Shiny side up...

In October of 2014, I had just enjoyed a beautiful day of completing yard work, house was clean, visited with my son Ryan, and was looking forward to tending my grandson that night.  The next day I would be picking up my husband, who had been out of the country on work for the previous 10 days.  I decided to go up into the canyon behind my home on my Road King Classic Harley Davidson... the leaves were exquisite and the timing was perfect.  I enjoyed the ride up to Snowbird and the many blessings of the previous week were running through my mind.  So many times my Heavenly Father had lifted me and provided me with strength and I felt my heart full of gratitude for his love.  On the way out of the canyon I had followed the flow of traffic - many cars going up and down the road and many beautiful sights to be seen are sure signs of distraction.  When I ride my Harley, first of all I always talk to it.  I say... "Ok - are you ready to ride?"  Then I tell it that my head has to be in the ride at all times.  Wierd - but it's a Harley thing to me.  The motorcycle is 1200 lbs and I have to let it know who's in charge.  So to quicken this story I would like to make a list of events in order - and stop and talk about a few on the way.  Are you ready to ride?

*  Following a Prius with enough space between us

*  Prius and old crusty people inside are looking at leaves and STOP in the road to look at them.

*  I had slowed because I saw their brake lights, but the brake lights didn't indicate stopping in the middle of the road and stopping traffic to see the leaves

*  I could see the impact that was going to occur, and I felt the bike lock up to line up my bike with the back of the Prius - so I pushed off of the bike with my left leg just before the bike hit the Prius.

*  I remember watching my long braid twirl through the air around and around - and then I felt the impact of the road.

*  When I came to, I could see my hand, sideways, and the road was sideways, and there were a lot of people screaming and a lot of lights - bright red lights - lots of people.  Fear.  Where was my bike.  Where is my leg.  Where is my arm.

*  At this point - I was surrounded by people - total strangers - holding on to me - trying to get information of who they could call.  Sounds of firetrucks, of officers yelling to block off the road.  Again with the...."who can we call?"  My husband was several time zones away... my kids... call my kids.  They are marked in my phone as aaaMatt, etc... so they would come up first on my contacts.  They asked me my name... I just kept seeing the sideways road.  I heard the paramedics saying, get the back board.  Where were my feet?  I was so tired.  I heard familiar voices - the paramedics were friends from my work, they recognized me - it was quiet.   They knew me.  They knew I was hurt.

*  I remember asking if anyone was hurt - and I heard yelling.  Later I was told that the old people in the car were angry because I had hit their car and there were other people yelling that they watched the whole thing and that they had slammed on their brakes causing the accident.  The old Prius people were asked to leave.  They didn't care that I was on the side of the road.  The police officer said he would never give me a ticket for what had happened - he was angry at them.  

*  I recall the first time I could think straight... it was when they took my glove off of my left hand.  There was my wedding ring.  I was worried about Del.  I was broken that I had ruined this beautiful bike.  I was sad that I had ruined everything.  But that ring reminded me - about a lot of promises we had made.

*  I was still on my side - they were trying to get me to move my toes.  I could move my fingers.  I remembered the numbers they gave me to keep repeating.  They said they would have to cut off my Leather Harley Jacket.... wait.... I never wear one - ever... I put it on just before leaving the house to put my things in the pockets.  It saved my body.  I screamed out - NO - they said they couldn't get it off without damaging me further - I said NO.  I said I would do the best I could.

*  They took my helmet off... wait... I never wear one - ever.  I also put it on before I left because I wanted to hear my music in my earphones.... the break in the helmet indicated the life it saved.  I would have been killed instantly.  The spirit told me to put the helmet and the jacket on - and it was so subtle that it didn't come back to me until later that this was the Lord's hand in my life.

*  Ride to the hospital - in and out - remembering numbers, asking questions, trying to stay awake, worrying about my kids, sick about my bike, angry at the Prius world.

*  When I arrived at the hospital - there were all of my kids, and my little grands.  The doctor just kept saying - there is no way you could have lived without your gear... they loaded me up with meds, and explained that I had bruised up my right side including my hip.  Destroyed my collarbone, shredded my right rotators cuff and tore the left one on the second roll.  (they estimated a 25 foot flight through the air)(jumping to save my left leg from being cut off gave me some good air).  I had a huge hematoma on my chest - and my bike was well... it was alive, but in really sad shape.

*  My sons and sons in law gave me a blessing - and my grandson Jake, held my toe for a minute during the prayer.  Oh how I love my children.  Oh how I adore that at any moment they are worth to call upon the Lord for help.  Oh how I love my RS Presidency and my neighbors that came to the hospital that day.  I was surrounded by my loves.  Except Del...

*  Matt picked him up at the airport... Del said... um... where's mom?  "Get in dad, it's a long story"

It's now been 6 months of recovery.  It took 4 months to get the collarbone strong enough to withstand surgery on the shoulder.  I am amazed at the human body, as it heals, and as you gently allow the process to take place.  I was surrounded by amazing human beings that fed us, prayed for us, and held us in their thoughts.  The bike - was rebuilt even more beautiful that it's original state by Del - each detail so exquisite.  My children helped me through many frustrating days, and my job was supportive.  I've realized that being left handed is even more special than I did before as this arm and had have sustained me.  Recently I have had recovery from surgery and I'm enduring Physical Therapy.  I also spent some time with the eyewitnesses from that day - and realized how very special the human race is - to step up and help in a seconds notice a total stranger on the side of the road.  I got to hug the paramedics - kinda awkward because I work with them - for their skills and tenderness and for telling me that I was alive and that's a start.  So far in my life - I've been through a propeller of a boat almost losing my left arm well and my life.  Now it's a Harley for the right side of my body... I'm a little nervous about the future of my other extremities at this point.  I found that in my most frightening moments of twirling and flying through the air - I was gently laid down by arms stronger than I've ever known.  Life exists that we may learn the lessons that our soul needs.  I want to put my thoughts and feelings about this aside and move on and get stronger.  I want it to be a lesson not a block.  But I needed to write the words - "Wow - did that just happen?" that the eye witness spoke to me a week later when he said, "I knew when I was to get to your lifeless body on the side of the road it would be a picture I would never be able to erase."  I think that my shredded 100th Anniversary Harley Davidson shirt will always be tucked away in my drawer.... right next to the note that reads... wear your helmet, put on your jacket... don't make me tell you again.    

It's time...

My love for writing stemmed from many years ago in a college class.  I believe I may have worshiped my instructor - she understood me very well.  The first part of our class was to empty the mind of clutter, and for 10 minutes we were required to empty our thoughts on paper, writing until there were no more words, or anger or feelings of joy.... empty.  Then to just write the word "word" until a new thought came and you would empty those onto the paper.  This has been my way of coping for many years - a gift, from someone that knew later on in life it would save my life in many ways.  Today - I just want to write a few words, and then move on... because my love for expressing my feelings has been suppressed by such sadness that my soul is void of of joy.  I feel it's hard to express my deepest thoughts as they are saved for a quiet place I hide in a lot lately.  I want to get these next two posts over with - not because of a cold hard heart, but because they are blocks to me, they halt my progression and they need to be brought out into the sunshine to breathe with lessons of love, of joy, of gratitude, and of hope.  Please just let me write the words..... they will be few, but important to me, and hopefully down the line after my heart is healed I can revisit moments and learn a bit more about life and myself.  Hopefully help someone else instead of just myself.  Let's get started....

word word word Thank you Mrs. Clarke word word word

Life in a Box

Well... as my mother entered the stage in her life that she would no longer remember why she had 400 boxes of family histories, pictures, town histories, weather reports, more pictures, more histories, letters, cards, decorations, more pictures, someone else's histories I can't identify, more pictures, and several hundred Ensigns...... tragic.

This meant that it would require sorting.  Sorting things into, needed, not needed, pass it on to someone who cares, no one cares about, really - you saved this, does anyone know you actually have this information, does anyone know this exists, and WTFreak?  A daunting task.  A couple of years ago my sister-in-law (bless her soul) and I started with the top level of hoarding - er um.... treasures.  We would actually have to dispose of things in bags and take them somewhere or we would find them back in the house a week later from the garbage.  After dad passed on this process kind of was put on the back burner (believe me - some of it was burned).  My winter goal was to sort the 'really important family things' so that I could pass it on to family members where they need to be and not in a musty basement.  My mom seemed to have a love for saving the world one box full of love at a time.  But to me it felt like she spent more time with the dead than the living - and the dead - they just don't care.  So I wanted to get this done fast so that I could live among the living and do my own children's books before life takes my memories, stories and moments away from me.  (why did I go upstairs again?)  I have found more information about my cousins than I've ever found about Eric and I combined.  It's ok - I understand in many ways more than she knew I did - but I promised I would finish  her work for her.  The process has been very eye opening - and happy and sad and well - actually I think her plan was for me to know more than I did about their life - so she left me her boxes.

I typed up all of the Hill histories, and started on the Bowen ones - and posted them on the LDS family history site - so that I didn't have to make 25 copies of everything and stack them in a .... box.  Check...

I scanned pictures and they'll go up next - so I don't have to make 25 color copies and stack them in a .... box.  Check Check...

I made sure each aunt and uncles oldest child will have a copy of the history of the Hills and Bowens back to our friends Adam and Eve and they can find their own stack and put them in a... box.  Check Check and Check...

I put a box of Eric's things in a giant box... and I put mine in a small envelope - I swear I was adopted.  and Check again... (was I adopted?)

I sorted out every obituary from the Mendon City Cemetery to give to the Sexton of the town (which would be my brother Eric)... they're in their own... box.  (and will go in his basement)  Giggle Check...

I found things mom borrowed from people to copy and never returned.  Some were pictures we'll never ever ever ever know who they are.... so I stacked them to be returned in a ... box.

I filed many many many many things in the trash.  I decided to not collect the history of mankind and the weather reports from Cache Valley for the past 100 years.  (pretty sure they are stacked in a box in the weather library somewhere)

I found my parents histories and I want to spend more time there - because they were wonderful people... until I found some letters.... and I was really disturbed by a few of them.  Letters from different family members to each other that were hurtful and horribly mean letters to each other in a giant argument.  It hurt to read their words and it made me very angry to know that people could treat ones they loved with such hurtful words.  The last time I was in the home I sat there and looked at their pictures on the wall and I cried.  I felt sad feelings I've never felt before.  I was.... angry. Now mind you I've written a poison pen letter or two or ten maybe.  I'm no innocent little thing - but these letters were some I probably should never have found. I found myself being angry at my father - and it answered a lot of questions I've had lately about how he felt about me then... and even now.  Sometimes we should be careful what we find in boxes...  Thoughts for yet another entry - but for now - I think my mom collected things about other people's happiness because it was the thing that made her the happiest - more than anything.  I get it now mom - I understand why you left those boxes.  The world looks a little more clear now.  I know of your love for me.  Maybe now I can let go of a lot of things and move on.  I want my children to read my journals and letters and KNOW they were loved beyond words, and that their children are precious to me in every way.  Lessons Learned...from a box.  (mental check list)

Meanwhile - I still have 12 boxes of Hill stuff - and 4 boxes of Bowen stuff  (and who did she love more??)  I have learned great lessons from this experience and I can hardly wait to return those boxes that are now piled at my house - back to her house.  It's time to start working on the living....  because right now - their stuff is still... in a box.

Recently I spent a day with my daughter letting her sort through her boxes and decide what she wanted to keep in a book and what just didn't matter.  It may matter to me but not so much to her - and that was the beauty of it, we only kept what she wanted!  We spent the time telling stories of the pictures or the events and reliving the happy and sad.  We were able to discuss what we learned from experiences that perhaps we were not able to clear up, and we talked of the 'what would have been if..' moments.  These are 'treasure boxes' now - the ones that should and will be passed on.  Yes - it will take some time to finish up - but the outlook is good because I'm thinking 'outside the box'.

"The clearest picture is one taken and kept in the heart"

We had our family pictures taken this year at a wonderful spot, with wonderful weather, and all dressed to the 9's for the picture.  But I cannot get a big picture of that moment because of some random issue that I'll just leave at that (grrrrr).  But then this picture came along, and I've decided that even though Ryan and Del have their faces half cut off - it's actually the most beautiful picture to me in the world.  Here are the loves of my life.  Aren't they most excellent?  I think so.  This is the first dinner around a table at Matt and Bethany's new home.  The table is set with little memories of our family... obviously, a McDonald's coke, obviously something that is in a beer shaped bottle but isn't beer..., mementos from a grandmother here and there, and food to absolutely die for.  But it's what's around this table that is priceless and extremely important to me.  When Del and I started our family 31 years ago - if we could have jumped forward to this picture and see what would be... we would have started 32 years ago instead.... or 33 or 34 or 35.... well - ok - we hadn't met yet but we would have still started then...  We may not have many things in life - but we are rich in abundance of love and family... and even the families of those our children married into.  Rich I say.  There are secrets around this table too - some I will not utter... and some I will shout from the rooftops in due time.  This will be our last dinner together like this for a while as we will lose 2 to California.  Wait - we just got 5 here from Seattle, and now we're losing 2?  Maybe we'll convince them to visit often to feast with us.  This table holds great blessings - Mike is with us and we're not letting the Army take him again.  We continually pray for Bethany's health and are amazed at her ability to be so strong and able to to all she needs to do.  Everyone at this table is employed - and in this world that in itself is a blessing - and they are all hard workers.  Around this table are blessings of the gospel - each one serving in different positions in the Church of Jesus Christ - yep - the Mormons.  (I am one I know it I love it) (do you want to know too?) (we're available)  Around this table are miracles... of lives spared, and loves strengthened, and hope in abundance.  Around this table are the grandchildren that will be responsible for passing on this legacy - they are fiercely protected by all of us and are smothered with kisses every chance taken.  The best times of our lives as a family have been spent around a table somewhere talking over each other, passing on stories of life, laughing.  Joy, is around this table.  As this year starts - it's important to build upon our relationships, to secure our faiths, to give back to this world, to love unconditionally.  I'm pretty sure this particular family, that I love, and adore, and celebrate... is up for that task.  2015 - make it your best effort yet.  

Of Ships and little boats and such.....come mighty vessels.

I love that I took a moment to listen to the LDS Womens Conference report from September of 2014.  It included a talk from a lady (check out my knowledge on who it was... not)  that spoke of her and her husband were giant captions of a ship and all of their children were little boats bobbing around them in the harbor.  But those children grew up and became mighty vessels with strengths and abilities.  I love my vessels - they are indeed mighty.  Recently I enjoyed a night with some very special missionaries we served with.  We went around the table and talked of our children.  Of the 6 couples there - 5 had issues with their children - divorce, choices in their lives not in keeping with the gospel, lost children.  As I drove home that night I thought of the sacrifices that are needed to be made long ago as a young mother - and how I'm thankful that I was the meanest mom ever. We seemed to be outnumbered as to the parents that were given a glimpse into the future of good decisions.  So to my point here.....

When my kids sprout their wings and fly - and question why I wouldn't jump up and down because they are flying, soon and for good - for good things and good places - I'm questioned for my support.  Tonight I answered that child - and yes my child I will repeat myself over and over - it's not - not supporting you - it's called loving you so much it's hard to let go.  But never is it ever because I'm not incredibly proud of the great ship you've become.  It's just hard to not have you closer to my mother wings.   I will indeed enjoy all of the voyages you'll take - but my heart will always ache to have you nearby - because - you are worth that.  Thank you my little ones that gathered around a table yesterday and celebrated my birthday - and gave me that moment to see yet again - how you've all become captains of your own ships.  (Never forget your anchor - and that you are loved dearly)

Now go and set sail.

But paddle back here often

and tell me of your adventures.

...and I will look into your eyes

and see that you've become all you've

dreamed of being.

xoxo

I'm now the old speed limit old....

It's one of those reflection days.  The reflection in the mirror was a year older today - and it's humbling to think of the past year.  What a ride it's been.  Speaking of rides... nope not yet - not going to talk about that one yet.  I really do look in the mirror a lot but not for vane reasons, but rather for indications of me inside there somewhere and how I'm getting along with life.  It's interesting how when you hear your birth date said, or see it written, or on some milk carton as an expiration date - you stop and think - hey - that's MY day!

DECEMBER 3

Yep - there it is.

But the original ending date is actually December 3, 1959.  Making me the old speed limit before 65 came along, at 55.  Double 5's - big 55 - also AARP in the mail almost every week.  Let me look in the mirror and see if I'm REALLY THAT old....

When I look in the mirror - I still see my blue eyes.  They are my dad's eyes - I love that he gave me that little bit of genetic pass on.  When I wear green, they go green.  When I'm sad they go dark blue.  Then I cry that sadness out they turn bright blue.  I've seen a lot of things through those eyes. Some things I hope to never ever ever forget - first time I saw Del.... seeing him over the alter when I married him (my blue eyes love his brown eyes).....and all the 31 years of seeing him as my husband.  I hope to never forget the first time I looked at my beautiful children - wow - that was amazing - a miracle in every way - joy of my joys.  Almost as wonderful as looking at their spouses knowing that they both had a twinkle in their eyes and that meant good things ahead.  Can I ever forget looking at my grandchildren - the view was kind of blurred - because I know there were a lot of tears of joy.  Like I said, there's been a lot of things to see through those eyes.  It's important that I mention that through those eyes I've also seen pain and sadness like I've never known.  I think I was a lot stronger in the pre-existence - because I'm certainly not as strong as the promises I made in heaven.  But then when I came to this earth on December 3rd, I had that memory of strength taken from my mind and I've had to find it along the way.  I was saddest when I looked at my dad for the last time alive - even sadder when I looked at his beautiful face for the last time at his funeral.   I see my mom's eyes and I know that they sometimes don't remember my eyes.  I hide that sadness but my eyes always gave me away.  My eyes leak a lot.  I've had hard days when they don't look up to see the world.  Days where I've looked away.  Times when I've seen the cruel things of life.  It's always there to see - but I don't have to look at it.  These eyes have been good to me.  Coke bottle glasses and years of contacts over the years none the less but good to me.

Hopefully the most important thing that my eyes see are the good things that can come from seeing, actually seeing the things of life that bring light to my soul.  My soul, I believe is ageless - and is much wiser than the limitations of my human body that is a year older today.  My soul has grown in leaps and bounds this year, because I made that my goal last year.  I took that soul to places that it was safe.  I let it experience the temple every week where it could touch base with where it came from.  I let it know of joy.  I trust it to only the big guy up there to sustain it.  With that, when the winds of change - or age - come, I will see more clearly, the path to the next year.

It's already looking amazing.

Let's eat cake.

Strap down the children - the storm is here.....

It's the first really big storm of the season so I took a picture of it here:

It's a whiteout.

I love freakishly stormy days.  I turn into a nesting pile of warm clothes and there's random cups of abandoned hot chocolate mugs all around.  I turn the heat up - and Del turns it down.  I look at soup recipes and I want to make bread.  My memories of storms in Mendon take me to the front room where there were 3 windows - one each facing east, west, and north - when the storms came from the north - they were huge and frightening.  I've always lived next to a mountain range and I love watching the pending doom lower down into the valleys.  I'm thankful for shelter and warmth.

So this year - we celebrate living in our home for 25 years here in the land of storms.  This past fall we took the plunge and put a new roof on our home, new windows, and heater/central air.  Can I just say that it's made all the difference in the world??  It's quieter - and it's brighter and it's cozier .  But this post isn't about the roof or the windows or the heater, but rather what it's made me feel inside.  For many years we couldn't afford those things to be done and it was always a worry.  When we seen how bad the shingles were when they were taken off, I realized how dangerously close we came to having it come down.  When I looked out of the new windows for the first time - I didn't know the world looked that beautiful - and we didn't put any blinds up anywhere.  Wait - disclaimer - the bathroom - because no one wants to see that right?  When the heater came on - I almost cried.  We had been trying to just get by for so many years - my heart was simply full of joy.

When I think about the things I'm thankful for this year - the list could cover several blog posts.  For just one post I wanted to say how thankful I am for these little things in life that we just quickly pass over.  The storm is raging outside, and inside our house is warm and safe - that's worth a million bucks to me.  Looking out the windows I see the season changing right in front of me - and the cold wind isn't rattling our home with it's threats or attacks.  To be safe and warm - a scene we witnessed not happening on our mission on a daily basis makes me want to just stop and say - thanks big guy up there - for the simple moments of safety and clarity.  For several years we worked very hard to pay off some major things.  Now we are challenged again by pending surgeries (post to come) and repairs (post to come) and me being out of work (post to come) and all of those worries that stressing over will not make better.  I have made it a priority to be grateful for the sweet things that I do have - and that how quickly they can be taken from us.  So for today - my roof is holding and my window are allowing me to see the "Let it Go" phase of the pending season and my toes are warm.  Rejoice in the little things today - it will make all the difference, and you'll also delight in hitting the knees and telling him thanks.  Another heartwarming moment that comes from gratitude.

"The weather outside is frightful"

But inside... I'm making more hot chocolate... 

Gettin' writin' hungry

Who the HECK is managing this blog?

Obviously not me.

APRIL 23rd??  The last entry.

I should be flogged.

Several hundred things have happened in the past um... 7 months.  Apparently none of them noteworthy to blog about?  I think not.  I have actually checked my drafts and I have several - but never posted them.  Sometimes I just want to write and not let anyone see what I write, well that's kind of dumb eh?  Believe me - some of what I write is really personal and those particular blog drafts have ample amounts of snot from crying when I write them.  I just attended a Writers Workshop and fell in love again with the concept of writing.  Ok - so it's not going to be showing up anytime soon in my blog posts that I'm any good at all - but I was inspired by so many concepts of  'why we write'.  I can think of many - happy, sad, frightening, and so on.  Some write to just be heard, many write to cure their hearts of aches, many boast - what - me?  (why yes I do) But the soul purpose I love to write is because one day - parts of me will be missing - set on a shelf with some pictures and a memory here and there - but no words.  I want to leave some words.  Mind you - not words of wisdom but words that are filed away in my little filing cabinet in my head.  Over the past several months I have re-typed and entered on line all of my grandfather's and great aunt and uncles histories.  Mighty people that have rich stories of bravery, courage and ample amounts of heartache.  I am amazed at how reading those stories have made it possible to identify in me the genes they left in my family line.  It's those powerful thoughts and words that I need to leave behind one day.  If I can do that - then I will have left a little bit of them here also.  Since my April blog post I have opted to post the most valuable post of all to me - that would be the previous post to this one.  This - beyond a doubt - is where my heart and soul exists - within the arms of this family.  Unexplainable  moments of love and goodness.  To which I have hauled out all of their scrapbook totes (most people have books but I'm not that far yet), and have experienced moments that were tucked away for this particular rainy season of my life.  I see a bit of the sun now and the desire is there to let it grow again.  But my posts here on this blog will continue to be mostly outrageous, many times with not apparent reason, and may or may not be true.  The need to write the words is greater than the need to hide behind my should haves and could haves of my writing.  When I had to categorize where my writing would fall in the large scale of areas it could fall... I hesitated.  I write like I live - with no boundaries.  If by chance I make a difference in someone's thoughts or actions or even brings a smile or two - then it's a good blog post.  If it's a bad post, then it's because I'm real and I just want to have some historical account of badness I guess.  I know people that put huge posts on facebook about glory and wonderfulness - and I believe I distribute a med for that at work called - 'really?'  Get a blog people - if you are reading this then I'm super happy - it means that you actually had to press a button to actually get to this spot, not be forced to read something so sappy that you want to push the 'unlike button'.  Well there now I've done it - I've posted several secret lines in this post that I want to write about now... I need to lighten up and just write.  I think that all 2 of you that read this have really made my day for stopping in.  Now - go write something - make MY day!  

What I surround myself with...

I love this picture - it's not complete though, because their spouses and children are not pictured here and they are an intricate part of our family unit.  Lucky us.  But for a moment I have to say - DANG... this is one beautiful moment - and YOU KIDS are loved and beautiful.  But sometimes they get put in the big picture and the little intimate moments before we became a much larger family are sometimes forgotten.  This is the original 'us' which brings the most touching moments back to my heart.  Evidence that we didn't kill them is also important.... Proof that they all had braces.... also an excellent observation... but it's what you don't see that is the most important to me.... their spirits.  In a world where they could be anyone they wanted to be - they became so much more than that in so many ways.  I see now - after 30 years of parenting - that every single moment of our lives together are all wrapped up in to one eternal concept - one that will always remain "A Family".  What you don't see here are their hearts and souls - I'm not sure the picture is big enough for that.  Good human beings are so hard to find.  But Hubbie and I found 4 amazing ones in all of the yelling and screaming and grounding and - oh wait - moments of pure bliss.  Life would not be what it is today unless the big guy upstairs put this puzzle together for us.  I can't let another day pass without telling my family how much I love them - and I know that when we were teased for having 4 kids in a world where some want none - I have to just kinda say.... read 'em and weep.  THIS is God's plan right here.... and when you get these things... he sends you these things....

and bits and pieces of perfection like these...

Life - is as beautiful as the people you surround yourself with.

I think I love my surroundings.