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