Measure Me

I had a meeting this morning Lucy's school--the teacher, the counselor and the administrator.  We were trying to determine how  best to move forward since neither Lucy nor Keith and I are thrilled with the part of the high school she's in.  We are looking to move her and see if we can't get a better fit with challenging classes and electives that she can enjoy.  It was a good meeting.  I think they really want what's best.

After the official  part was over and it was just us and the counselor, I told her that I hope she can help Lucy with her emotions--frustration, anger, and grief.  We  talked about how she is doing.  Then the counselor asked how we were doing.

There's only ever one answer--unless I'm lying--"We're doing."  I choked up.  Just a tiny bit.  Then we were interrupted and I left.

There isn't an answer to that question.  There is no sliding scale with which to measure.  How do I know what is fine or good or bad or terrible.  There is no way to mark it on the door and watch it's passing.  All the quantitative things in the world have a way to be measured.  Not this.  Am I doing good if I haven't tried to commit suicide or abandoned my faith?  Am I doing horrible if I cry every damn day?  How in the world can I answer that question?  It would be great if there was  a  pattern or measuring stick or scale to measure against.  At least I think it would be.  Maybe it would just be one more way to judge myself.  Probably that.

I'm tired of trying to figure out how to answer that question.   Partly because many people who ask don't really want to know;  partly because I don't believe anyone should have to understand how I really feel;  and partly because I don't know how I am.

A grief yardstick.  That's what I need.  That way I could say,  "Well, yesterday I got to 30, but today,   I'm more like a 12 or a 700."  It could be universal and everyone would understand the scale--not like the metric system. 

I love my boy to a 6,000,000,000 and it's hurts like a 47,000,000,000.  Or vice versa.

Escalator



When I saw this photo  I just couldn't resist it.




I  had to read a few hours today to finish the book for book club tonight.  I really enjoyed the book.  It was light and even though the idea of a ghost being one of the main characters didn't thrill me at first, it was entertaining.  It was called  Twenties Girl  by Sophie Kinsella. 

Though there were lots of messages within the covers, I picked one to write just a sentence or two about.  At first, the main character,  Lara's life isn't too great.  She has relationship troubles;  career troubles; and lots of family troubles.  Her father gives her some advice.  He says,  (paraphrasing)  "Life is an escalator.  It keeps moving whether you want it to or not.  Make the best of it."

What a great visual.  When you see an escalator,  some people are standing still.  Some people are walking even though it's already moving.  Some people even think they can beat it and  try to see if they can go the wrong  way on it. 

There are a million conclusions to draw and analyses of every person you know.  All I will say is that when I  picture my escalator in my head it's an "UP".

Game Day

Well, Iwas going to write a deeply thought out post about what I read in the scriptures today but,  as it turns out,  I just finished watching another nail-biter Red Sox game.  I love the Red Sox.  I really love them.

My first professional baseball game included the view of the green monsterand the Citgo sign.  I've taken the T to Kenmore and walked to the park.  I've eaten the Fenway dog and even bought a jersey.  I love the Red Sox.  I was lucky enough to move back to New England and share my Red Sox with Keith and Ian and Lucy. 

I don't know whether Mikey ever got to experience Fenway or not.  We moved when he was 5 months old, so either way, he doesn't remember it.  But he has a ball hit by Big Pappy in the coliseum in Oakland.

Keith and I even spent our 15th anniversary at an A's / Red Sox game a few years ago, much to the surprise of his coworkers who thought he was nuts to buy sports tickets for his wife on a special occasion. 

As I watched the legendary closer Jonathan Papelbon end the game tonight,  all I could think about was how Ian would be commentating the game sitting next to me.  He loved Papelbon. And Lester.  And Wakefield.  And Beckett.  And Schilling.  And oh yeah Pedro Martinez.  Just to name the pitchers.  Then there's all the others.  He knew them all--and everything about them.

I got that  pit in my stomach.  I was thinking "What will I do when they are all gone?"   When all the players we watched together are gone I won't be able to feel like he's right there with me when I watch.  Those players are still connecting us.  When I watch them,  I see my son smiling.  I see him excited.  I see him engaged in something he loved.  I'm so proud that we shared the Red Sox.  It's so silly, but for a mom,  I'm so glad he loved my team.  He wanted to play sports so bad.  I'm glad we shared sports really the only way his body would allow.

I was glad last year when the Sox didn't make the post season.  I didn't want to see them.  It hurt too much.  But,  this year, they give me the connection I need.  I hope they can win tomorrow and clinch the wild card.

Heartwalk

The heartwalk used to mean hope to our family.  It used to be about being thankful for all the research that made it possible for us to have Ian.  It was different this year.  It was about determination.  It was about resilience.  It was about proving to Ian that we won't give up the fight.  It was a way to show we haven't forgotten his struggle and how incredibly tough he was.  I suppose I could still say it is about being thankful for the research--we got 16 years longer than we would have because of medical advancements and  those who came (and went) before.

Almost at the finish line with the Ian's Superstar Sign

We had 100 T-shirts and we came home with 8.  We were very pleased and so grateful for good friends.  It was a sea of orange.  The volunteers all being dressed in the UOP orange T-shirts didn't hurt either.

The girls in Young Womens

 A couple more girls came after the photo was taken.  And in primary on Sunday, there were only 3 kids that didn't raise there hands when the primary president asked who had fun walking the day before.  Luckily they were the 3 who weren't there.


The group from Ian's School



It made me so happy to see kid's we didn't even know there walking and remembering Ian, even after not seeing him for over a year.  That may sound stupid, but teenagers have a pretty short attention span these days.

Keith and Chad--Ian's best friend

Even friends that couldn't walk with us made the day special.  When we went out to the car, we found candy messages, superhero symbols and our team logo on the van.  It was a great start to the day.

Johnsons are great!

It was a good day.  Once again, the anticipation and the let down after were worse than the actual event itself.  Except for seeing Ian's 4th grade girlfriend, that was rough.  Seeing her as a high school junior with her whole life ahead of her stung a little bit.  I'd like to think she wasn't just there as a volunteer for her school though, that some part of her was there to remember the day she walked it with Ian several years ago.

I'm One of His Children

I was canning stewed tomatoes again this morning and I needed the TV on to have some noise.  (Yes, the kids were home, but they were doing their homework.)  I turned on the View.  It was a tribute to the soap opera, All My Children because it's going off the air today.  It's been 100 years since I watched a soap opera, but some of the scenes they were showing were from the early 80's and I recognized the characters.

One  of the interviewers seemed to remember all the plot lines and  relate more to the characters than the actors.  It was weird to watch.  The creator of the show was there too--41 years later.  One thing all the actors kept saying really struck me.  They kept thanking her for creating theirs characters and giving them such great roles to play.

It made me think about thanking my creator for the role he's given me.  No--I don't think I'm just acting out a part that's already written for me, or that everything I say and do is predetermined.   I am just very thankful for the life I've been given:  the parents;  the time and location of my birth;  all the incredible experiences I've had all through my life;  my husband;  my children;  all of it.  I'm really grateful to the Father in Heaven who gave me this adventure.  There's a lot I wouldn't have picked, and some that I would trade, and a few things I'd like to ask questions about, but still, I'm glad it's mine and I get to experience it all.

Not Sweeping Changes, But Creeping Ones

The name of this blog means a lot to me.  It's implication is that God is in charge and I yield to him.  However, There are certain things I would like to have control over, but can't.  I can't control  whether my house is worth anything.  I can't control what my tax dollars are spent on.  I can't control who my kids make friends with.  I can't control how other  people drive.

The thing  that worries me the most is that I can't control the changes in the world that are bombarding my kids.  They don't even know they are being bombarded.  They don't know how things used to be.  They don't know that the simple principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ used to be everywhere.

I was flabbergasted this week to find out that Mikey is being taught a different set of names for the dating system that has served generations.  B.C. and A.D. are being phased out and B.C.E. and C.E. are replacing them.  Before Christ is now being taught as Before Common Era and Anno Domini (Latin for Year of the Lord) is now Common Era.  So, not only has Christ's name been removed, but it has been replaced by the word 'common'.  Could there be a more offensive alternative?

One explanation I found on the internet says it is in deference to archaeologists that are not Christian.  Political correctness and multiculturalism rear their ugly heads again.  I guess I should understand what's going on--Satan is taking more and more control over the minds and hearts of this world.  Evil is everywhere.  It doesn't have to scream.  The more subtle it is, the better--for him.  Things like this change are so quiet and presented only to children, who don't understand that it's a big deal,  without parents even knowing that it's happening.  It makes me wonder who has to approve a change like that.  Who says, "Yeah, that's a great idea, let's start with 10 year olds?"

This is only one example.  They are everywhere.  They are frightening.

Full of Sh**

I deal with a digestive issue on and off--mostly on.  Constipation.  I know, why in the world would I write that?  Well, there's a reason that I think is a pretty good one.  It parallels something else that's more significant than digestion.

When I'm really stressed out or really busy, my body doesn't work like it should.  If we are traveling, forget it--for many days.  Okay, enough of that.  It's just the metaphor.

When I'm really stressed or upset about something that I don't want to write about or I think I shouldn't write about, everything stops.  I am completely blocked.  Not even just on this blog but everything--my conversations with myself in the car;  my thoughts going to sleep;  everything.  And I really think it's actually good for me to take the time to write about things that are on my mind to clear it out once in a while --in many cases I go back and don't even remember what I've written about--which can be good.

Here's the disclaimer:  This is only my side of an issue.  I realize it's not the only side and know that I'm way off the perfect target.

I told my brother-in-law what I thought about him not ever trying to get involved with the Heartwalk and hurting Keith's feelings.

He lashed out at me so intensely that I can't seem to get away from it.  He wrote me an email which included things like how he tried to tell me how to care for Ian and it just "fell on deaf ears."   He said  he learned things at Ian's funeral about him that he didn't know before.  (Is that my fault?)  He said he and his wife--"of all people"--could understand all Keith and I were going through all those years with medicine regimens and doctor visits etc--why didn't we come to them?  (How could he possibly have any idea?)  That certainly wasn't all.  

Okay, so here's the deal.  How could anyone do that to me?  How could anyone choose now to criticize what I devoted myself to for so many years?  How could anyone--anyone--not know that those comments are out of bounds?  That they would stay with me and add to my already mountainous guilt over not being able to save my son.  How could anyone hate me that much? 

I just don't have the energy to play the game any more.  My mind and my digestive system need a rest.

Almost Ready

The shirts came for the heartwalk yesterday.  I like my design--with Keith's tweak.  It turned out great.  I wish I could hear Ian's comments and his edits.  One thing is sure.  He would like the color.

I guess we're almost ready.  Haven't raised nearly enough money but, it's hard to throw myself into it.  The day will come, and go, and at least I'll know we were strong enough to try.
Here's the link to donate for anyone out there that I haven't already solicited.  Ian's Team Page

Let Your Light So Shine

We have a box of "Strike on the Box" matches in the cupboard over the stove.  They are what I use to light candles when the house smells like broccoli or fish.  I've been thinking about them lately.
I heard a tease on the radio for some upcoming show.  The guy was saying that everybody could be compared to some kind of flame--book of matches, candle, etc.  It was just the preview, so there wasn't any explanation or follow up,  but I immediately thought of my matches that can only be lit with a little help from the box.

I hope I'm not "Strike on the Box" matches.  I don't think I am.  I hope when I need or want my "light" to shine, that it's not the kind of light that can only be ignited in one place, in one way.

I guess it's like hoping there's enough oil in my lamp to be considered wise instead of foolish.

Feeling what I Feel

I really should do a lot of research before I write this, but if I just write it, maybe Keith will do the research and correct me if I'm wrong.  We were reading in 2 Corinthians in Sunday School today and I had to grab a pen and make a note because something struck me.  I don't know what verse we were even in or if it was about what came to me.

We read and talk about Christ having gone through everything we will ever have to go through.  In Isaiah 53: 4  it says,  "Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows..."  and in Alma 7:11-12 it says,  "And he shall go forth, suffering  pains and afflictiions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people.  And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death which bind his people;  and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities."
Him bearing every hurt;  every sorrow;  every everything--is there a chronology to it?  What I mean is:  Do we know at what point he had accomplished that? 

Had he faced all those things in his own life before he took them on for us?  Or has he gone through all of them through taking them on for us?  Does he know what it's like to be lonely because he took it on for every widow that ever lived?  Does he know what it's like to suffer disease because he took on every ailment for the sick?  We know he never sinned, but we believe he knows what it's like to feel our guilt and want desperately to be forgiven.  We know he never broke a bone because of the prophesies in the Old Testament, and yet we believe he knows every pain we feel.

Is it the atonement that, in fact, made he feel what it's like to be lame or dumb or outcast?  It may be a silly point that everyone but me already figured out, but it makes a lot of sense to me.  He knows what I go through, not because of what he went through on his own, but through his suffering for what I would go through. 

Sometimes my thoughts are only as clear as mud, but it's good to record those thoughts too.

A Lifetime Ago

Heartwalk 2005 Stockton Ca  Ian with Blake, Chett and Garrick

The heartwalk is fast approaching.  I want to raise a lot of money.  I want a lot of team members to walk.  I guess no matter what happens, I won't like the day and I won't feel like we're beating heart disease.

I miss Ian.

Representations

Lucy had to do a project for school a couple of weeks ago.  It's an autobiography, but with many different parts and I thought it might be fun to do it too.  I don't know.  I heard a song on the radio yesterday that maybe could fulfil the one page.

Song lyrics that represent you:

"Welcome to the real world,"  she said to me
Condescendingly
Take a seat
Take your life
Plot it out in black and white
Well I never lived the dreams of the prom kings
And the drama queens
I'd like to think the best of me
Is still hiding
Up my sleeve

They love to tell you
Stay inside the lines
But something's better
On the other side

I wanna run through the halls of my high school
I wanna scream at the
Top of my lungs
I just found out there's no such thing as the real world
Just a lie you've got to rise above

So the good boys and girls take the so called right track
Faded white hats
Grabbing credits
Maybe transfers
They read all the books but they can't find the answers
And all of our parents
They're getting older
I wonder if they've wished for anything better
While in their memories
Tiny tragedies

They love to tell you
Stay inside the lines
But something's better
On the other side

I wanna run through the halls of my high school
I wanna scream at the
Top of my lungs
I just found out there's no such thing as the real world
Just a lie you got to rise above

The song is "No Such Thing" by John Mayer.   You can listen to it here.   I used to love John Mayer.   It's a good song.  Until the last year,  I've wanted to go back to a high school reunion and show everyone how great a life I have.   I probably still have a better life than most.  I should feel thankful.

Anyway, to me the song is about all the "lines" we put around ourselves that really aren't there.  We think there are all these things that are so important and sometimes we find out that life is better when we live outside them--not in a break the law, break the commandments sort of way.  Just in a don't try to be so perfect way. In a stop trying to live up to what's supposedly expected way--because most of the expectations are self-imposed anyway.  At 14 or 16 or 18 we think we know everything--how life should be--black and white--just like the song.  When we actually grow up, at whatever age that happens, we see there isn't some magic formula of how it's supposed to be.

Lucy also had to pick a color and a food that represented her.  I think in giving her a suggestion for the food,  I was really talking about me. 

I said potato. 

I know--weird.  Here's why--I think most people see the green plant of the potato above the ground and it's okay, not the most beautiful plant or anything, but okay. 

Hidden, where they can't see though,  is the best part.  I keep a lot hidden and so does Lucy.  I also thought of kiwi--scruffy and bland on the outside, but if you take time to peel it, it's the brightest colored, tastiest thing on the inside.  Or liver and onions--one of my favorites foods, by the way.  You really have to be a connoisseur of food to enjoy it.  You have to be willing to try it, even if your first impression is that it will be disgusting.

My color would have to be...I have no idea.  My mother-in-law says I wear brown a lot.  Somebody that came to the house once said that my sage green corian counters were just like me,  whatever that means.  Am I cold, hard, straight, beveled?  Whatever.  My favorite color is green.  The teal color that my mom swears is blue,  but really  is green.  The color red of Keith's hair has got to rank awfully high on my list.  Is there really a color that represents me?  Lucy picked orange.  Some quiz on the internet says orange is for flamboyance and exuberance and someone who demands attention.  She loved that.  I say she picked it because it was Ian's favorite color and she has taken over a lot of his favorite things. 

I guess maybe teal is a good representation of me, simply because some say it's blue and others say it's green.  

I've never gotten over the first impressions people told me they had of me.  They were so far off the mark.  I'm just not who I appear on the outside?

There have been issues with people being able to comment on my blog lately.  I hope it works now.  I know that maybe you need a google ID or some others.  Anyway, for the few of you that read this,  I'd love to hear the things that represent you and if you think the things I chose represent me.  It would be fun for me to hear someone else's  inner thoughts for a change.

Good Coming from Upheaval?

I actually took this photo at Yosemite.  It's not a stock photo from the internet.

I read a great book this weekend.   It's called The Weathering Grace of God by Ken Gire.  It's about all the beauty in nature that comes from upheaval on the earth.

One of the passages I appreciated most was about answering the questions of Why.  It went something like this:

Explaining the geological reasons for why a volcano erupted and destroyed a home doesn't really make the people who are homeless feel better, so why do we expect that explaining a theological reason for hardships in our lives to make us feel any better.  My words.  His were better.  I should have quoted, but I'm too tired to go get the book and find the page.

It's a super book.  I gave it to my father a couple years ago thinking it was just about nature and why people love to mountain climb.  He gave a copy to me last summer and told me to read it when I was ready.  Finished it in one day.  I was ready.

Feels Like Cheating

We got up early this morning.  We put the bike rack on the car.  Loaded 2 bikes.  Our friend Chris came over and we loaded the other 2 bikes in the back of her truck with her bike.  We went to Subway and got sandwiches.  Then we drove to Sacramento.  We got out at the American River Parkway.  We first rode through Old Town Sacramento and saw booths--one on the Mormon Battalion.  We tasted Sarsaparilla.
Then we got on the trail.

 It was a beautiful trail.  We rode along by the water in some places. 

We saw turtles,  river otters, herons, cranes and squirrels. 

We pick blackberries and snacked.  We visited along the way.  We rode about 12 miles as close as I could figure.

We ate our sandwiches and came home.  It was a good day. 

Felt like cheating on Ian  to do something as a family we never could've done if he were here.   Never would've done.

Super 8

I saw a movie yesterday.  It was called Super 8.  In the first 2 minutes the adolescent boy lost his mom.  I sat in the theater thinking all through the movie--It's better for a mom to lose a young son than a young son to lose a mom.  I would never want Ian to be as sad and lonely as that boy seemed.  And I would never want him to be as broken-hearted as I am.  This way he's busy and taken care of and hopefully,  not at all sad.  It would be nice to know he's missing his mom though.

It was a good movie.

Get Happy Now

Not me, but a group just like mine--11 elders and 1 sister.

I thought I already wrote about this but I can't find it.  It's amazing to me that I've written 178 posts on this blog.  I look through the titles and I don't remember most of them.  Anyway, this topic is timeless so it can be written about over and over.

"What is the purpose of life?"

There are always varied  answers when you ask that question. 

To get a body.
To be tested.
To prove ourselves worthy to be with God again.
To learn obedience.
Every once in a while you  hear the answer that I believe is the right one--To be happy.

One of the scriptures I own was a gift from my MTC class in 1991. I don't know exactly what we were discussing, but I know a question came from Elder Barclay--one of the elders from Idaho that I had to sit in between--and I've never forgotten the verse.
It's  Mormon 9:14.  The chapter is all about the plan and Christ's part in it and all the different roles he plays.  Verse 14 is particularly about the judgement.  It says  "...he that is filthy shall be filthy still; and he that is righteous shall be righteous still; and he that is happy shall be happy still; and the that is unhappy shall be unhappy still."  I have a note written in the margin that says,  "Get Happy Now."

Being happy sure sounds  a lot easier than being tried and tested and proved, but I'm not sure it is.  Chances are if it's the thing Heavenly Father wants us to master, it's probably pretty tough.  I guess it's like every thing else.  It depends on how bad we want it.  Alma 41: 5 says,  "... one [is] raised to happiness according to his desires of happiness..."  At some point, no matter how awful things look, we (I) have to want to be happy.  Eventually, I have to be able to say I want to be happy again and mean it.

Alma 29: 3 says,  "...for I ought to be content with the things which the Lord hath allotted unto me."  I don't like what has been allotted to me the past year, but the all the years before that were a great blessing and there might be a few more good years in the future if I decide there can be.

I know I  have a reason to not feel happy.  I know many people don't  have a reason they can put their finger on and still don't feel happy.  We're conditioned to believe if we do what's right; live a moral life;  love those around us;  we will be happy--keep the commandments, prosper in the land.

Sometimes things just aren't as simple as the sayings we cut out of vinyl or stencil on wood.  Sometimes we don't have the answers--let's make that most of the time.  We just have to try our best to be happy, no matter what turmoil we're going through at any given minute and know there's a reason and somebody is in charge--even if we can't see Him.

Everyday

Families are Forever. 
Wow, that phrase holds a whole lot more meaning to me lately.  And not the meaning you might think.  First of all, I think, "Families can be Forever."  It's not automatic.   There's no guarantee.  It's dependent on faithfulness and obedience.  It's not a free gift.  The only freebie is resurrection.  Everyone gets that.  Being together forever is trickier.

Then I think,  "When does forever start?"  A statement with forever in it should include now, right?  It doesn't.  My family isn't together now.  We won't be completely together for many, many decades.  To most people the statement Families are Forever gives punctuation to the happiness they feel,  the closeness,  the unity.  To me, it's angst--like eternal truth versus what I can see.

I got away today.  I was alone for several hours.  Even when school's in, that doesn't happen often.  I went to the temple.  I rushed to get there.  I stressed and looked at the clock 500 times on the way.  When I finally got there, got changed, and sat down, the contrast in atmosphere was so stark that I began to cry.  I probably cried for 10 or 15 minutes.  Listening to prayers that I believe are making families forever was overwhelming for me.  One of the gentle, white-haired men brought me some kleenexes.  The woman next to me asked if the names being read were my family.  Nope.  I just had some idea how happy those people who I don't know anything about must have felt to be given the chance to be together forever.

As I left that room and was walking down the corridor, the man who gave me the kleenex approached.  He asked if I was carrying a burden today.  I said yes.  He said it was good that I was there and walked on.  I thought to myself,  "everyday,  I carry a burden everyday.  My son is gone.  It's everyday."

Before I got changed to leave,  I saw a woman I know.  She asked how I was doing.  I think a lot of her.  As we spoke she started to cry.  She was missing her sister and brother and sister-in-law who are all forever--but not right now.  She was also worrying about her mother, who "has good days and bad days."  I'd never seen this woman  be anything but strong and smiling and encouraging.  She was carrying a burden too.

It's not just everyday for me.  There are burdens everywhere--mostly hidden where only the person carrying it can see.  I'm sure the white-haired man has hauled his share around.  It's up to us how we carry them,  what we do with them.  Sometimes being good and serving God and others is easy and sometimes it's not.  It's still Everyday.