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...