Signs that I am turning 30 soon

I turn 30 at the end of this month. On the 30th to be exact. Apparently that's a special birthday to have both numbers match up. I'll look forward to the magic.

I've been noticing a few things lately---other than the calendar---that indicate my age. The list comes with good and bad:

• My knee hurts. I don't remember doing anything specific to cause the pain, but suddenly I'm favoring it, taking ibuprofen before bed, and waking a few times with pain during the night. I'm not particularly in shape, so this comes as no surprise.

• Another sign of my body betraying me is that everything I eat is suddenly showing up in my waist and arms. This actually started when I turned 29, it's just taken me a year to realize that it's not a passing thing. Looks like it's here to stay, and if I want to do something about the weight I'm going to have to do more than think about it a few times. My mother said this would happen. Claire points it out to me weekly; bless her heart.

• I like me (well, so far today I do). While I certainly have and have not had this feeling in the past, it's different now. One thing I've realized is that it's really easy to like yourself when you are easy to like. Like when I weighed 115 pounds, and I was Miss Utah, and boys were lined up all around me, and I could play the piano so effortlessly, and I spent my days speaking and serving---that was easy. Now---far past the 115 pounds, I struggle to get through my few piano performances, sometimes no one listens to me, and sometimes I fail miserably at my responsibilities of being a mother and wife. Boys still hang on me, but usually it's a three-year-old who needs his nose wiped and help going potty or a husband who still insists I'm hot, but may just be saying that because I'm his only (ethical) chance at getting any. Although I do speak (sometimes loudly) at my children and serve them all day, the tangible rewards are far different. But I'm settling into an easy flow with my life and who I am. It's comfortable. I like it

• My long-complained-about acne problem seems to be resolving itself (knock-on-wood). Maybe it's age, maybe it's the face wash I found, but with that going away it's time to take a serious look at wrinkle cream. I've dabbled in it a bit before, but I think it's high time to preserve my skin. Suggestions? 

• We will register Claire for kindergarten in two weeks. I know that many of my peers have children well into the education experience, and that technically I should have sent her last year, but it still freaks me out to think I have a kid in kindergarten.

• We have time-consuming church callings. I actually love that this change is happening. We love our callings, and we love being useful. Nonetheless it's a sign of growing up. With T in the Bishopric and me in the Relief Society Presidency we have at least two nights of meetings a week and very busy Sundays. This week we both have overlapping meetings tonight and last night that we'll be passing the kids to each other and other people, and one or both of us will do visits at some other point. This is how our parents always were, and it makes us feel like we're doing something right to have our lives be so full and so blessed.

• We have a mortgage. While this makes us feel very grown up, it also makes us very happy to have the house we've worked so hard to have. We have done some painting and arranging around the house lately. I think we've finally realized that we're here to stay and not just hang out until the next move. The yard will continue to improve this year, and hopefully we'll get a great garden in. My roses are bursting to life as we speak (even in the cold), and being responsible for our little bit of earth makes me feel grown up.

• Our cars are almost paid off---yeah!

• Our marriage is better than ever. Not that it has ever really struggled, ever. It just improves with time, and I love that. We are definitely half of a whole, and I love who we have become together.

• As I've mentioned before, we are entering a stage of our lives where the people we love and admire are leaving this earth. In fact, Taylor's other grandpa is in the very end-stages of life and will likely be spending Easter with Jesus this year. This is the season of life that we are in. We've had a rushed and rough entry into this season, yet it causes us to grow, to reaffirm our testimonies, and to cherish our family a little bit more.

So I'll be 29 for a few more days. I love that I'll turn 30 in the late springtime of the year. I feel like it's symbolic of this time in my life. I'm definitely starting the summer of my life. I'm letting go of the spring, and I'm excited not to be a twenty-something. My twenties were ofttimes thrilling, life-changing, and rewarding, but the last half of the decade has been rough. I'm excited to be past that; I'm excited to be a grown-up. I know that I'm not likely to feel any different that exact day (Remember when Claire turned four? She got up, looked in the mirror and cried. "I still look like a baby! I don't look like I'm 4!"), but I know that it's something I'll grow into. And, despite the unfavorable parts listed above, I'm really looking forward to that.

Bad habits never die...

...they just get passed on to your kids.

Taylor and both of our kids naturally hold their hands this way. It's how we know they are his---and because they are practically little Taylor clones in every other way.

It's funny how much of us are in our kids. Kyle and I have identical tastes in food: we like mustard, spicy things, and chunky sauces. We will basically eat anything put in front of us, and we will do basically anything for chocolate---even for just one single chocolate chip. Taylor and Claire are anti-mustard, anti-spicy, anti-sauce, and take-it-or-leave-it when it comes to chocolate. Although Taylor has branched out as an adult (still no mustard or tomatoes or anything with a "funny texture"), it is reported that Toddler-Taylor liked everything "naked" from hamburgers to noodles to mashed potatoes. Claire has picked this up without encouragement or previous knowledge---not even ketchup on a hamburger, nor spaghetti or alfredo sauce on pasta, and no gravy on potatoes!

It goes the other way too: Claire has my eyes. Kyle has Taylor's. Both of their hands rest in the same odd position that Taylor's do. They're both super-smart---just like us. Just kidding---because only Claire shows signs of being super smart so far :) Anyway, it's interesting to see parts of yourself in your children. One disheartening thing I've noticed is that Claire has nearly every single one of my bad qualities.

Take for instance the other day:  The kids and I set out to clean up Claire's room. If you have ever seen her room, you know the monstrous undertaking this can be. It had probably been three weeks since any adult had made much of an effort to do more than hang up her laundry.

Claire's closet on a typical day.

So there we were; I was giving the orders, and the kids were supposed to be following the orders:

Me: Kyle, please throw that away. (And he leaves to do it)
Me: Claire, please put your pajamas in their drawer (She walks in the general direction of the pajama drawer but gets distracted by a doll. Kyle returns.)
Me: Kyle, please go hang this up. (Kyle heads to closet)
Me: Claire, remember how I said put up the pajamas? Put them up! (Kyle returns)
Me: Kyle, can you go throw this away now? (Kyle leaves.)
Me (annoyed): Claire, put your pajamas in the drawer or they will go in the garbage.
Claire: Well...it would be easier that way.

It went on that way for 2 hours. I think she accomplished maybe five things I asked her to do---in the end both of us got so frustrated that we quit when it was 90% done. She spent the next hour cleaning up (AKA playing with) her dollhouse. She gets it from me. Lucky girl.

I'm an awful housekeeper. I'm lousy at it. Nothing about tidying up a house comes naturally for me. At all. Never has. Probably never will. I know for a fact that since last August our entire house (every room, every bathroom, every surface) has been completely clean at the same time exactly two times. Two times in eight months! I have good runs and small victories. On Wednesdays the entire downstairs (minus the toy room) is clean because I teach piano lessons. On Mondays our bedrooms are pretty good because that's laundry day and it's easier to vacuum without clothes all over the floor! But on every other day of the week it's up in the air. Each day it seems that I wrangle something: the bathrooms, the kitchen (most days my kitchen has moments of being almost clean), my closet, the dreaded toy room, the loft. But if I do more than that it means I'll ignore my kids, and they are completely destructive to whatever part of the house I am not currently arranging.

I need to clarify that I don't need you to call the Hoarders show on me. Or the health department. Or even Merry Maids (well, maybe them if you're willing to pay...) We are neither pest nor mold infested. It's just the clutter that's the problem for me. It's mostly kid clutter, but I'll admit to being guilty for a part of it too. At least I must be the other responsible party, because Taylor is so seldom here.

And I try. I really do. But I'm not effective. This is evidenced by Claire's comments to me the other day: "Mom? Do you think I'll be a good mom?" I assured her she'd be great, and she responded, "Well, I'm just worried about it because all you do all day is clean---and I hate cleaning!" Clearly if I do it all day, and we're still not clutter-free, we do have a problem.

I think I improve by about 2.5% every year. So by the time I'm about 80 I think I'll have this down. In the meantime it kills me to see that this quality has been passed on to her. I'm pretty sure it's on the Nature side of the Nature vs Nurture argument, because my mom was great at this, she certainly tried to teach me. Repetitively and continuously :)

Claire has some other bad qualities of mine. I can already tell she's a "hair nerd" like me and my mother before me. It took me until probably last year until I didn't feel alone when I am in a group. I see that in her and it breaks my heart. Our moods are pretty up and down which might explain why we both love Elvis Costello's song "She;"  the lyrics describe us perfectly:

 She may be the song that summer sings
May be the chill that autumn brings
May be a hundred different things
Within the measure of a day

I do have good qualities I hope that she gains. She's a natural at the piano, so she's got that one down. Claire sings in public without fear and already really enjoys public speaking (just like me, but not the singing part). It's interesting that we all have different abilities though. This morning my friend Katie (who happened to be Miss America and coincidentally is good at singing) blogged about how she's not good at cooking. And you know what, I'm a great cook (probably Katie's house is always clean!). I love to cook, and I can even add, subtract, or substitute ingredients at will without things going horribly wrong. And I do it on a very, very frugal budget spending usually $200 a month and always less than $300 a month for our family of four. I'm also great at staying on top of laundry (with Taylor's help). I wouldn't consider it a forte of mine, but it certainly doesn't stress me out like it seems to stress a lot of people. I never have the proverbial mountain of laundry, so I must be doing something right.

Whenever I get down on myself about my complete lack of tidy skills (which is nearly every day) I have to remind myself about the things I can do: the cooking, the laundry, the sewing, piano, scrapbooking, and hopefully I can add blogging to that list. I can do some things! And I hope that one day Claire will be able to say that about herself---and about me! After all, going back to Costello's song, if you can get over the part of us that brings the autumn chill, the summer song part is pretty awesome. With Claire (and I hope with me) the end of the song rings ever true:

Me. I'll take her laughter and her tears
And make them all my souvenirs
For where she goes I've got to be
The meaning of my life is She. 

And for fun here's a link to that song, along with the clip from Notting Hill that made me love it so much:

(Un)Answered Prayers

I haven't posted for an entire month. I guess I've been trying to pull myself back together after all the funerals. And while I usually write to deal with things, it didn't happen this time. We've been busy though. Since I posted I was called as the second counselor in our Relief Society (our church's women's organization), so that's had me way more busy than teaching Primary (children's organization) every other week :)

One thing that has nearly overwhelmed my thoughts since the last time I posted was the subject of prayer. I've never considered myself an above-average public, out loud pray-er. While my paternal grandfather could orate for hours (literally, I'm sure it's been done), and both of my parents have this quality----as evidenced by their prayer pads (gardening knee pads) that they have conveniently stored under their designated family prayer couch. I likely have the genes for it, but somehow I freeze up whenever it's my turn in class or (gasp!) Sacrament meeting. Words tumble, random and generic things come out of my mouth somehow twisted from their traditional usage. Does everyone feel this way? I regularly speak at church services for almost an hour without blinking an eye, but giving the prayer gives me instant cotton mouth. Probably I just need more practice.

Anyway, public prayer hasn't really been on my mind. It's more the personal kind of prayer. Three or four weeks ago in Primary my teaching partner, Bethany, gave a lesson on prayer. She asked class members to share examples from their lives where their prayers have been answered. I thought about what my example could be. I think I have prayed every single day of my life to find something that I have lost: shoes, keys, library books, my hair brush, my children (totally kidding), my mind (only kind of kidding). Really, I think I pray daily to find misplaced objects---and I usually find them quickly after the prayer, regardless of time spent searching prior to the prayer.

I pray for comfort, for the guidance of the Spirit, for healing, for health, for peace, for safety, for direction while driving, for my children, for my husband, for my parents and siblings and grandparents; my list could go on and on. And time after time my prayers have been answered.

I shared one specific dramatic answer to prayer with my Primary class. And I've thought about it over and over since that time. I don't know that I've had a more dramatic answer to prayer ever. I want to share it, not to boast of how great I am to have my prayer answered, but just to say how great God is. If ever I wonder if prayers are answered, I go back to this moment and get the resounding answer: Yes.

In a nutshell: I was 21 and set to go on a date with a boy. For a lot of reasons, it was important to me to be the one driving the two of us to and from the date. I requested that of him, and he thought I was being silly, that boys always drove on dates. So over lunch that afternoon my Mom and I prayed that things would work out and we would be safe. Probably within 30 minutes I got a call from him, and he said that he had a flat tire. The spare was also flat, and it looked like I'd have to drive. As I pulled up to pick him up on the side of the road I couldn't believe what I saw. The tire was not just flat---it was non-existent. It had literally blown off of the truck. Shreds of tire, none bigger than the size of my hand, were all along the roadside. He just kept saying, "I just don't see why this had to happen today."

Well, I knew why it happened. I drove and everything was fine. Maybe everything would have been even if he drove. We'll never know. And that's not the point. The important part to me was that my prayer was answered. Dramatically answered. And I have relied on that knowledge a lot.

One other thing that has got me thinking is unanswered prayers. I, for one, totally love the Garth Brooks song Unanswered Prayers. So many of the blessings in my life are products of unanswered prayers. I miscarried months before becoming pregnant with each of my children. Oh, how I prayed for those pregnancies to work out---but what if they had? I wouldn't have the children that I do have now. We prayed to get into dental school before Claire was born---what if that had turned out? I wouldn't have the friends I have now. We wouldn't live where we do now. We wouldn't be in the ward that we love so much.

Sometimes I pout when things don't go the way I planned or the way I wanted. I get upset when things seem unfair and unbearable---and sometimes it takes a long time for me to see past those things, but when I do I think of the found keys, the tire exploding, and of the sweet blessings that are mine because of unanswered prayers, and I do know that God is mindful and ever-present and always answering my prayers.




*Tire picture by Larry Page (not the actual tire from that day)
*Hands picture by Katie Tegtmeyer

I Am a Whale Barnacle

Barnacles on a Grey Whale

I took notes during Taylor's Grandpa's funeral. You would too if you were at a funeral where President Eyring was presiding and speaking. He said a lot of great things and read a special letter to Gramine from the 1st Presidency. During the middle of the funeral as I was contemplating how great Grandpa was and how great Taylor's whole family is I wrote this on the bottom of my the page in my journal: I am a whale barnacle.

Here's why: barnacles attach themselves to whales. They go where the whale goes, seeing the world right along with the whale. They go right along with being the main event in the ocean. A barnacle neither harms nor helps the whales, it just exists along with it. And while I do try to be helpful, I do feel like I am very, very lucky to be along for the ride with this group.

My own family is amazing, don't get me wrong---I just feel lucky to also be attached to Taylor's family. Grandpa accomplished more in his 88 years than most people could ever dream about. A quick read of his obituary will prove it:

Elliot was born in Panguitch, Utah, February 9, 1923, to Benjamin Archie Cameron and Leonia Sargent. He graduated from Springville High School and attended Branch Agricultural College (now Southern Utah University) where he was active in athletics and student government. He met his wife at BAC, and they were elected President and Vice President of the freshman class. They were married after a 15-month courtship. Elliot served as a Master Sergeant in the U.S. Army during World War II before returning to Brigham Young University, where he graduated with both BS and MS degrees in June 1949. He was a life-long educator, serving as Principal of Duchesne High School and South Sevier High School, Superintendent of Sevier County School District, President of Snow College, and Dean of Student Services at Utah State University. In 1962 Elliot joined BYU as Dean of Students and Vice President and served there for 18 years before serving as President of BYU-Hawaii for six years and Commissioner of the LDS Church Education System for three years. Upon retirement, he and Maxine served as President and Matron of the Provo, Utah Temple. While at BYU he completed a study of formal world-wide educational opportunities available to members of the LDS Church called "The Cameron Report." An active member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Elliot served as a bishop, stake president, LDS General Sunday School Board member, Regional Representative, and as a sealer in the Provo Utah and Laie Hawaii Temples for 36 years. He and Maxine served an LDS mission for two and a half years training temple missionaries. He also served as President of the National Society of Sons of the Utah Pioneers during the sesquicentennial year, 1997.

His career and church callings allowed him to become good friends with a number of prophets and many other people we revere in our church. It must be said that Gramine was by his side for all of that and is due just as much praise for raising a family and being wonderful all on her own.

I met Gramine and Grandpa sometime in the spring of 2002. I remember immediately loving them. Gramine reminded me so much of my own grandmother that it was easy to love them. In fact, I can always count on Gramine to play piano duets with me. Growing up I always wanted to marry someone who could play duets with me. Well, Taylor didn't stick with piano nearly long enough to keep up with me, but Gramine far surpasses my abilities, so it's super fun to play alongside her.

Grandpa performed our marriage in December 2002. It was so special to have that connection to him, to feel his love for us, to have him be the one who created our family.

As I sat at his funeral last week I knew that I knew he had done all of these amazing things, but it was almost overwhelming to consider. On top of all of the church-service spoken of at the funeral, the burial at the cemetery was a military function complete with flag folding, a gun-solute, and a very moving solo of Taps.

Gramine and Grandpa visiting Kyle in the hospital when he was one-day-old.

In the last nine years he has simply been Grandpa to me and Grandpa-Great to my kids. We loved him. We loved spending time with him. We loved that he was always in the temple, and we loved that we got his tickets when BYU games coincided with his assigned time in the temple. We will miss chatting with Grandpa about sports and church and life. I am glad that Claire was old enough to gain real memories with him that will hopefully last her a lifetime---maybe with a little luck Kyle will remember too.

We are slowly recovering from the whirlwind two weeks of death and funerals. I still find myself on the edge of sobbing sometimes whenever I breath too deep or think too much or have a sudden thought and realize that they are gone. It was kind of good for me to see the tsunami coverage and have something new to cry about.

But we are ever-grateful for the time we had with our grandparents. We couldn't have asked for better people to be in our lives and in the lives of our children. We have big shoes to fill!

BYU sent this amazing Y for the funeral.

And here is Gramine a couple days later. The deer ate every single flower at the grave! Look how picked-clean it is! (See how it says "Yo"? I had to smile a bit at that.)

I wrote a book once

At the cemetery after the funeral, March 4, 2011

I wrote a book once. I typed it, edited it, scanned over 500 (maybe 600?) pictures, put it into InDesign, and took it to a publisher. It was about my grandma's life story. I started it in 2001 and spent about 25 hours interviewing and typing up about 20 pages. Then again in 2003 as I finished up college I spent almost 200 hours scanning pictures and finishing her story up to the late 1960s. Then I got a job, had a baby, had another baby, and life happened.

The cover of the book

Then in 2008 I picked it up again right after Grandma turned 92. This time I spent hours and hours perfecting the story, adding forty years, adding hundreds of pages of memories from children and grandchildren, journals, ancestor histories, and much, much more. Probably 400 hours of work (or more) and nearly one year later I had a beautiful 503 page book. Grandma loved roses, so we titled the book "Roses in December" and included the quote on the cover: "God gave us memories that we might have roses in December."

The back cover of the book

It was a lot of work. I spent most naptimes and many late hours working on it. But it was a labor of love, and (especially now) I am so grateful that I had that chance to spend so much time getting to know my grandmother and her progenitors. What a treasure I have in the memories, the book, the pictures scanned and discussed, the hours of tape spent interviewing her. A couple days after her death I pulled out the tapes. I thought I'd break down when I heard them, but instead I just smiled at her strong voice, her quick wit, and her easy laugh.

Each child and grandchild wrote a little tribute for the book. I wanted to share mine here:



    My earliest memory of Grandma is from the morning the twins were born.  I was one week from my third birthday, and I vividly remember that I woke up, walked down the hall and saw her sitting on the couch. She was wearing a pink sweater and said “Jackie, the twins were born this morning!” Later that week over a package of diapers in her front room she taught me how to hold my chubby fingers up and say, “I’m three.”
    While the twins were babies I spent a lot of time with Grandma, sleeping over many nights. Every night before we went to bed she would read me a story, usually the “one with the clock.” I would sleep next to her bed, and as I would fall asleep she would reach down and hold my hand. One day we were having tomato soup at the counter and she put my hair in pigtails, tied with red bow because “Grandpa likes it that way.”
    Because we live only three blocks away from her, she would always walk us home when it was time to go. Grandma taught me how to skip during these walks  I can still remember following behind her, trying to mimic each hop and knowing that I had the best grandma in the world. She would drop me off and say, “See you later, Alligator,” and I’d reply, “In a while Crocodile.” 
    A few years later I went to the library after school on a cold, rainy day. Grandma put a stack of magazines on the old heat register, sat me on top of them and gave me a pile of books to read. I remember getting my first library card. I was so proud because my grandma worked at the library, the most wonderful place in the world. Sometimes I was very lucky and Grandma would let me help her go out to the old silver book drop and bring in the books.
    Grandma always had ice cream with any sauce we wanted, and we could put nuts on it too. We have Chex mix and slush for Christmas. On New Years we march around her block banging pots and pans. She visits on every birthday and makes chocolate nests for Easter. 
    Grandma and I love sunsets.  For as long as I can remember we would call each other whenever we saw a beautiful sunset. 
    During high school Lee and I would stay with Grandpa after school while Grandma rested or did other things. During this time I learned the true meaning of undying love and devotion. I could see the love and care in her eyes as she spoke to him.  I looked forward to the day that I could love someone so much. Grandpa was still worrying about her at this time, just months before he passed away. I remember answering the phone once to hear him saying that Grandma was sick and sleeping at the time; he wanted my mom to come check on her.
    Grandma is a sounding board—every time I am sad or frustrated or excited or happy I go to Grandma and she listens. She offers hot chocolate and gives advice only when asked for.  She is very animated if I have been mistreated. She is honest if I am in the wrong.
    Everyone who knows Grandma loves her. She is always a lady—beautiful and soft-spoken. She loves her children and desires nothing more than their happiness. She is the most selfless person I know. She is gracious and kind. She is generous with time and money. 
    For the rest of my life, whenever I see a sunset I will think of Grandma. I will imagine her waving to me from the carport window, one hand and then the other as she waves goodbye—and I will blow a kiss to say I love you.


    I was blessed with the best grandma in the world. My heart is forever changed, forever a little sad at her passing. But I do know that I will see her again. I can't wait for that day---and I can't wait to meet her parents and grandparents too, because through her I feel like I really know them. I am certain that their reunion in heaven has been a great one. Maybe she can recruit them to find more babies for me! Grandma loved babies more than anything else. I'm sure she'll find just the right one for me. If that day comes, the moment I see light in that child's eyes and feel its warmth on my face I will treasure it, because I will know it came from her.

A final gift

During the first months of 1999 I decided to try out for the Miss Lehi Pageant. In doing so I found out that I needed to have a platform. Coincidentally during the time I had to choose a platform I had an appointment with my ophthalmologist who directed me to the Utah Lion's Eye Bank. I volunteered with the director of the Eye Bank who got me in touch with Intermountain Donor Services and other donation awareness organizations. Little did I know how life-changing that decision would be. I volunteered and worked for donation awareness sometimes full-time, part-time, and as needed from 1999 until we moved to Logan in 2007. Organ, Eye, and Tissue donation is and will always be a big part of my life.

I previously mentioned that upon her death my grandma was able to donate her eyes to research. This was something that Taylor's grandfather was also able to do. In fact we smiled thinking that their eyes were probably somewhere together at the Moran Eye Center waiting to be studied in their search to find a cure for macular degeneration. I was so glad that they were able to donate something. They were 95 and 88 years old, so I didn't expect to even be given the option.

I know a lot of you have grandparents who may consider themselves too old to donate. This experience made me realize, again, how important it is to talk to our families about donation, no matter the age. Macular degeneration is something that most of us will have to face in our older years. The people doing this study feel that they will be able to find a cure in the next 3-4 years. The eye donations of our grandparents that are happening now will directly affect how that cure will benefit us, our parents, and our children in coming years.

Because our grandparents were eye donors, they will be added to the list of names on the Celebration of Life Monument at Library Square in Salt Lake. It will be so wonderful to attend the next wall unveiling ceremony and see their names, to be able to show the names to our children for years to come, and remind them of the legacy and final gift that their great-grandparents left.

When you read this, please make time to talk to your parents and grandparents about being a donor---no matter their age. Lives can be saved and enhanced through transplants and through research. Also, check your state's online donor registry (click here for Utah's) and make sure that you're registered as a donor.

Grandpa Great

Grandpa-Great, Kyle, Claire and Gramine. Easter 2008

I, for one, am so glad February is over. It was rough. As I wrote previously we lost my grandma on Thursday. We spent Friday being pretty sad, and then on Saturday we decided to paint our bedroom to get our minds off of it. Halfway through our painting we got word that Taylor's grandpa was doing poorly and the out-of-state family was flying in to say goodbye. When we got the news about Grandpa we couldn't believe it. Having just lost my grandma two days previous we felt a little overwhelmed with grief.

There was a lot of debate as to whether to go down that day, but Kyle was just barely getting over his fever, so we decided to wait and leave early Sunday morning. Taylor and the kids actually spent Wednesday afternoon with his grandparents while I sat with my grandma in the hospital, so Taylor felt that even if he didn't get to see him before he went that he had had that afternoon a couple days before to say goodbye.

We got to the hospital in Provo just after he fell asleep for the last time. It was like deja vu to walk into his room. He looked much the same as Grandma while she was in the hospital with white hair and body that was half the size it once was. My kids were great and said goodbye to him as he slept. Claire did a repeat performance of Be Still My Soul. It seemed very appropriate that Grandpa passed on a Sunday. He was a spiritual giant and held many important positions. Shortly after we got there the LDS church brought in the Sacrament. They blessed it and gave it to everyone in the room. Gramine held the sacrament to Grandpa's lips. They also shared a scripture (which one was it?).

A little after noon we went to lunch (does this sound familiar?). The cafeteria was only  a few doors down from Grandpa. When Grandma was dying they told us that the death often happens when the family goes to lunch. And so it was that as soon as we had our food on trays we got word that he was failing. We put our food on a table and rushed to his room. His vitals were down and his breathing was practically non-existant. We sang Our Savior's Love (and by the way, it was by far the worst I've ever heard that musically gifted bunch sing---I say that with love---it was impressive that words were able to be said at all) and he passed away while we sang. As we were singing the words rang so true:

Our Savior’s love
Shines like the sun with perfect light,
As from above
It breaks thru clouds of strife.
Lighting our way,
It leads us back into his sight,
Where we may stay
To share eternal life.

It was the perfect hymn and a perfect moment. Though the grief we feel at his loss is tremendous, we have the comfort of a life well-lived. I'm sure he received an amazing welcome to Heaven---surrounded by his prophet-friends and loved ones and probably quite a bit of applause :)

I have to note that the staff at Utah Valley was incredible. We were there with our kids for about two hours before he passed and the nurses went far beyond what was necessary and helped watch our kids so we could be with Grandpa. They brought in crayons and printed off coloring pages and even took them for a long walk during the final moments.

You may think I'm weird to surround my kids with death lately, to not shelter and protect them, but I'm glad Claire was there---and I don't know that Kyle really understood what was going on. Claire really loved her grandparents, and she really understands what happened and that they are with our Heavenly Father now. She sang to Grandpa and gave him hugs before and after he passed. I was so proud of her for being so great about it and so understanding (and honestly I think she's very fascinated by it all). And I have to say that it was helpful that our cat died last year.

The viewing for my grandma is on Thursday evening, and her funeral will be Friday at 11. We'll go from the funeral to Grandpa's viewing, and his funeral is Saturday at 2:00.

A short update on Kyle: I took him back to the doctor yesterday. He said his cheeks and ears hurt. They did a rapid RSV test and it was negative, but they sent the sample to be further evaluated for other infections. They had to suction out his nose. It was awful; it took three of us to hold him down. He does have an ear infection and a nasty sinus infection, so he's on antibiotics. She didn't feel that he was contagious (and hadn't been in the hospital, or we wouldn't have taken him.) She didn't like how his lungs sounded, I guess he was wheezing, so she had him do a breathing treatment in-office and we got an inhaler for home. He did a weird freezing cold and shivering then super hot thing after his bath today (probably I shouldn't have left him in there for over an hour), but he's running around now. Guess we'll see.

**Edited to say that the doctor called a while after I posted this and his lab test for RSV ended up being positive. I'm instructed to take his temperature in the morning and then we'll discuss chest x-rays in the morning. Lovely.

I'm so glad February is a short month

8**This post is super long. I wrote it a lot for me, but also for my family and relatives who were not able to be there with grandma during the last couple days.

February---the month known for love and romance---has taken on a new theme for me this year: Loss.

It started out with a friend from high school dying. Which was shocking and sobering. Then my friend David died. Then two more last week as another friend from high school passed away in a car accident, and then my friend Laurie lost a long battle with cancer. We went to her viewing on Monday. My parents sat with the kids in the car, and we went to dinner with them after the viewing. At this point I was feeling a little overwhelmed and very mortal.

Grandma, Me, Claire, and my mom. Halloween 2006

Late Monday night my mom's sister called to tell her that my 95-year-old grandma was having a lot of stomach pain and was asking to go to the hospital. They checked her in to the hospital and stayed the night while they assessed the problem. On Tuesday we found out that she had an intestinal blockage. Surgery was an option, but the chances of her surviving the surgery were slim. They weighed the options throughout the day planning that if surgery did happen it would be on Wednesday. My brother Jake was in town on business so I spent most of the afternoon and all of the evening with him. It was wonderful to be with him, as it just doesn't happen that often since we both have families and live more than 100 miles apart.

On Wednesday morning I was just stepping into the shower when my mom called and said to come quickly to the hospital. Grandma's kidneys were shutting down and her time seemed short. Taylor called in to work and got the day off. We threw everything in suitcases and plastic bags and drove rather quickly to the hospital (missing my shower the whole time!) When we got there there were probably 30 family members there. Grandma was happy and laughing and talking and really looking forward to being with Grandpa and her parents again. We sat with her and basically said goodbye. She reminded me what beautiful children I had, and we took a picture with her.

About an hour after that my brother and my in-laws arrived, and we took another picture with all of us and gGrandma. Right after the picture, Kyle (who was so sick of the hospital and starting to get sick) said, "Let's get in the car NOW!" Grandma laughed and said, "So cute! Such a joy..." Then Claire sang "Be Still My Soul" to her, and she fell asleep. Her sisters arrived right after that, but she really didn't talk to them, and I don't know that she was ever truly conscious after that.

Taylor took the kids and I spent the rest of the day with my mom and siblings (and other family) in the hospital. My sister and I painted her fingernails, and we spent some great time together. I went home for dinner and to finally shower around 7, then the kids and I went to my sister and sister-in-law's indoor soccer game (They won!) Claire and I went back to the hospital around 10 to say goodnight to my mom and let Claire say goodbye to Grandma again. As I left I whispered a small request for more babies in her ear. I hope she's good for that one :)

I slept at my parent's house (well, tried to sleep---poor Kyle came down with a raging fever and cough). I gave the kids a bath in the morning then took them up to Salt Lake to stay with Taylor's mom. I felt bad leaving Kyle there sick, but I also really felt like my mom needed me, and I really wanted to be with Grandma.

When I got to the hospital they were taking her oxygen and blood pressure. At this point she was receiving oxygen, but they explained to us that the oxygen was no longer helping as her lungs would only take in a certain amount of oxygen no matter what air she was breathing (room air or oxygen saturated air). So they removed the oxygen and took out the tube which had been suctioning her stomach after the blockage. At this point they also realized that her kidneys had completely stopped working as well as her stomach and intestines.

She was still breathing and still receiving a lot of pain medication because of the pain caused by her bowels dying. She didn't wake up or call out all that morning. She wasn't on any monitors throughout the time we were there, and the only sign of life to us was her constant, sometimes labored breathing.

My brother Dan and I were there with my mom and her two sisters who were in and out of the room. Dan and I had a long time alone to just sit holding her hands and chat with her. Dan had the extremely thoughtful idea to bring one of Grandpa's favorite hats, and we placed it in her hand. We talked with her about grandpa, and about her parents and siblings who were waiting for her on the other side. She gripped my hand occasionally. I have to believe that she could hear me. She gripped especially when we gave her grandpa's hat, when I talked of her parents and grandparents, and when I talked about how she was going to meet her sister Idelia (who died at birth) for the first time. We talked of how free she would feel, how unconfined by her aged body she would be, how we would be okay but that we would never be the same. I put in a few more requests (okay, a lot more requests) for more beautiful babies for me and my siblings. She loved babies.

My sister-in-law Britten and my dad brought lunch for my mom in the early afternoon. Britten told me I was welcome to come to her house a few blocks away and have some lasagna (I have to say here that she makes an INCREDIBLE vegetarian lasagna, unresistable lasagna.) That was at 2:00. I said no thanks, that I wanted to stay. Then a nurse came in and took her vitals which hadn't significantly changed, and that lasagna was calling to me as I hadn't had a thing to eat all day. So I left with her at about 2:10. I got to her house, played a bit with my darling neice then warmed up and thoroughly enjoyed some lasanga. As I was finishing up my dad called to tell her that Grandma had passed. I hadn't turned my phone off of silent. My sister had tried to call and text, but I missed it. She passed at 2:20.

I got back at 2:40. I was devastated that I hadn't been there. I wanted to be there of course for Grandma, but I wanted to be there for my mom. However by that time my dad and little brother and sister were there, so she wasn't alone. Her sisters and brother were also there too, so it was fine,

Soon after she passed they asked if she had wanted to be a donor, that they could use her eyes to study macular degeneration at the Moran Eye Center. My mom gave a resounding yes. (You'll remember my platform was organ and tissue donation awareness. We spent hours talking with Grandma about donation during the last ten+ years. She even sat at donation awareness booths with me.) A few family members were unsure about what she would have wanted. It really stressed to me that it is important to have that conversation with your family, not just once but often. It is certainly something that we've talked about a lot, but when the pressure was on those conversations are not always easily recalled. This also made me see (again) the great benefit in the online donor registry which can show families that their loved one purposefully went online and purposefully signed up to be a donor (Have you? Click the Donate Life button on the sidebar to check.) In the end everyone agreed that it was the right thing to do (phew!) and her beautiful eyes will be studied and with lucky they will help find the cure for macular degeneration (they said they think they are 3-4 years away from actually curing it!).

My cousin Lee offered a wonderful family prayer, and we stayed with family and with grandma until about 5:00. We were surprised that she stayed relatively warm the whole time. It was comforting to give her a last hug and still feel warmth.

Taylor's parents were headed south so I got the kids from them in a parking lot. Kyle was burning with fever, although he had had a full dose of Tylenol about 1.5 hours early. I gave him Ibuprofen and headed home. I dropped Claire off with Taylor and went straight to InstaCare. Though his temperature was still high he had no ear, throat, or chest infection, so we picked up an amazing prescription (we've loved it before) for cough and congestion that should have him at least feeling better soon. For now he's still fevering terribly.

It's been a long couple days. It's been a long month. The funeral is set for this coming Thursday which seems like so far away. I will miss my grandma terribly. I have a lot to say about her, but that's for another post. But I read this today, and I loved it:

When you were born, you cried and the world rejoiced. Live your life so that when you die, the world cries and you rejoice.

Even as we mourn, I know she rejoiced to be free and to have lived such an amazing, joyful life.

In memory...

My mom and I went to a funeral yesterday. Our dear friend David Nemelka passed away. We met David early in 2001. He founded the Quest for the Gift of Life Foundation, an organization dedicated to furthering the cause of organ donation awareness and specifically to eradicating the organ shortage. The timing of this was impeccable as I was beginning my second (and winning) journey to the Miss Utah Pageant. He was beyond enthusiastic about me and about the cause that had been dear to my heart for the previous two years. His vision and generosity came to donation awareness at a vital and inspired time.

With David, 2001

During my year as Miss Utah I spent at least one day a week (usually more) with the Quest Foundation; meeting, presenting, planning, and driving around the state with the directors of the Foundation, Jeannene Barham (David's sister) and Lisa Hawthorne (and many others too many to name). We made a difference! Plans for the monument at Library Square were put into place and it was dedicated in 2004.  In April 2002 we launched the online organ donor registry, a unique and revolutionary idea at the time (which has since been created in nearly every other state in the nation). As of 2010 73% of Utahns had signed up on the registry---an amazing accomplishment. I traveled with Jeannene and Lisa to schools, businesses, hospitals, rotary clubs, boys and girls clubs, and basically anywhere we could go. The interesting thing about organ donation is that you never really can pinpoint exactly where the difference was made. You usually don't hear about how you directly affected someone's choice to donate (although I do have two or three such treasured personal stories). But lives continued to be saved, and the donation rates slowly and steadily increase---and much of the increase can be directly connected to David and the proverbial ball that he got rolling when he got involved in the cause.

With Lisa at the Alamo

On the River Walk in San Antonio with Jeannene

Obviously funerals are hard because they make the loss final and real. David will be missed for the love and warmth he brought with him everywhere he went; for his amazing generosity and community service. He was larger than life and accomplished more in 71 years than most people could in several lifetimes.

Yesterday his seven children spoke so lovingly and eloquently. The chapel was packed to overflowing. And I was inspired. He clearly lived by mantras; Some of which I had heard him repeat in person, some of which his family repeated yesterday. Two things stood out to me: First, he always said, "Family first and nothing second" His children said that he was not a perfect man but was perfect in his love. I love that. They also said that he was dedicated to making positive memories for them. It made me really want to consciously take the opportunity to create good, happy memories with my children now and in the future. Each of his children said that he was their hero---and I know that they meant that with all of their hearts.

Secondly a life motto for him was "I am my brother's keeper." I love that too. He exemplified this motto. His life was full of service, and I am sure he was greeted in heaven by hundreds of open arms and thankful hearts. Seeing Jeannene and Lisa yesterday brought back so many good memories. We spent every day that year (and years before and after) doing service for others. If ever I look back at a time in my life and say, "Those were the days," it will be in reference to those days---not the glitz and glamor of the pageant and the crown, but the quiet conversations and busy days spent in service.

Fittingly, last week I finally finished my scrapbook from 1999-2002, encompassing the years that I spent with Lisa, Jeannene, and David. In doing so, I read through my entire journal from that time, including much of my writings in my scrapbook. I truly walked among giants. I owe much to David---for his one-on-one conversations where he inspired me with talk of Mother Teresa and Don Quijote; for his wonderful foundation which introduced me to Lisa and Jeannene who became such vital mentors and beloved friends; for the way that he lived his life in love and service.

When I heard of David's passing my heart was broken for a moment, but I immediately had the image in my mind of him in heaven, giving big bear hugs to everyone who was there to greet him; then I'm sure he looked around and got right to work on his next adventure---his next great cause. And I couldn't help but smile. And it was the same yesterday---I couldn't help but smile; although the feeling of loss was real and heavy, his life was truly a life worth celebrating, and I was blessed to be associated with him.

Even though I haven't seen David very often in the last few years, just knowing that he was somewhere being a force for good was very comforting. I'll really miss him; and our little corner of the world will never ever be the same.

A softening heart

Remember this post about having an open heart? Well, I've been continuing with the experiment. So far it's been great. And it has actually helped me along with my New Year's Resolution to not be the Me Monster. I'm listening to others more and really hearing.

So here's the latest. As it is Valentine's Day, I thought it would be especially appropriate to share today. Today was the day I decided to refill my prescriptions. I needed 5 from two different doctors. The kids needed one each (which as luck would have it they expired four days ago!). I save it for one day because I hate standing in line at the pharmacy. I hate being on hold with doctors waiting to get the expired prescriptions filled (20 minutes 32 seconds today). And really, I hate the lady at the pharmacy at Walmart. She's always bugged me. She's just not nice, nor helpful.

So I made the calls, made sure they were filled, picked up Claire from preschool and then headed to Walmart. I gave Kyle a sucker and put a Dora game on my phone for Claire. The line was not too bad for a Monday (usually I avoid Mondays at the pharmacy and with doctors in general, but I really needed one prescription today). So there I sat, kids occupied and three people in line in front of me. And I saw the lady I don't like; the only employee working the registers. I'll be honest, my first thoughts were of dictating a letter to Walmart (that I would never really send) about how she bugs me. BUT, then I remembered to have an open heart, if for no other reason than to pay homage to the holiday.

I got to the front of the line and she told me that for my eye drops alone (three of them) it would be $215! Last time we had insurance I stocked up on meds, so I had no idea it would be that much. I just stared at her, unable to think of how I could reconcile paying that much for anything. (I say anything because ten dollars is a lot for me to pay for anything). Then she softly said, "Why do you need these?" And for the next few minutes while she was figuring out the rest of my prescriptions we talked about my eye problems and how the meds I need are to stop the constant itching in my eye socket which happens because I am allergic to the prosthetic eye. And how because of those problems I get my health insurance denied every time I apply. She was kind and genuinely concerned. While she couldn't change the prices, I at least felt like someone cared---in fact in her words she said that the prices were B--S---. 

I bought the least expensive (which fortunately is also the most important) eye drop and hope that my doctor will have some samples of the others. Or that I can find another way to pay for them/get samples.

The most surprising thing about my visit happened right after I paid for everything else. She said, "You're a really nice lady. I'm sorry about all of this." Wow. What a change from our usual interactions which in the past have had me walking away thinking, "You're not a very nice lady!" While I am totally bummed about the cost of my medicine and that I can't get health insurance, it didn't totally ruin my day like it would have had she not been so nice about it. It's amazing how this open heart approach can change me and the people with whom I interact.


**photo by seyed mostafa zamani