It's Not Over For Me

I went to see the marble slab  for Ian's tombstone today.  While it's not the best day starter,  I thought it was beautiful and was relieved,  feeling it was the right choice.  (Too bad it was cracked and another has to be ordered.)

I've been fighting an urge lately.  I told a friend about it today and she said it wasn't creepy--said it made perfect sense to her, so who knows,  maybe I'll act on it,  to what extent I don't know.   At the hospital,  Keith made all the calls and informed everyone that Ian was gone.  When we got home,  Keith sent out an email to let others know and tell them--I don't know what.  It's a blur.  I didn't want to call anyone.  I didn't want to talk to anyone.  In fact, truth be told, I don't think I would have let anyone know until the next morning.  When I finally did tell anyone,  it was a couple sentence email saying Ian's finished fighting heart disease and I don't have anything else to say.  Wow, that doesn't really proclaim my eternal love for him, does it?

So here's the urge:  I want to know what everyone said.  I want to know if they gasped.  I want to know if they cried.  I want to know who they called and what they said.  I want to know how they felt when my world ended.  Creepy, right?  Someone told me they knew when the phone rang what had happened.  I want all those  connections now.   Did they make 10 calls or did they sit and stare?  I'm sure it's another thing I feel guilty for.    I couldn't even call my own parents.  Maybe I'm thinking about it  because it's over for most of those other people and I don't want it to be, because it isn't over for me.  It's not going to get over.   I want to talk to all the people I didn't get to talk to at the funeral and hear all the incredible things they have to say about my son. 

Part of me thinks it's the dumbest thing in the world and would just make everything even fresher and more painful-- I should just stop thinking and analyzing and replaying and bawling, but I can't.  Another pare of me knows no matter how much information I accumulate,  there will always be a hole that never fills up and there will never be an explanation good enough to make me not wonder and question and want more.  He's not here.  That's not going to change and even if I could stop time and go to that precise moment in the 5 o'clock hour of August 2nd and see what every single person on the planet was doing, it still wouldn't make any sense.   I still couldn't be convinced that he needed to leave me.

For the Birds

I took this photo.  It's not one of the stock shots that I took off the google image page.  I love seagulls.  I love all birds.  I've recently turned into a middle-aged person who watches birds.  I always notice the hawks on the way to school.  I love the cranes and the herons we see in the winter when it's cold and misty.

I just read a book about  pelicans.  The author told of all the wisdom that could be learned by watching pelicans.  Then he said what I've he heard so many Californians say:  "Seagulls are garbage eaters; scavengers;  common birds who are loud and pesty at the beach."  He also said nobody loves gulls except the Mormons.   I told Keith about it and read him a quote.  He just laughed and said,  "Well, Michelle,  you are a Mormon."  

I love seagulls.  I think they are beautiful.  I always said when I was a kid that if I could come back as an animal,  I would be a seagull.  I'd be able to fly and live by the ocean.  No real deep meaning today,  just one more thing about me.

Best Book Ever

Book club is at my house this month.  It had to be a  Potok book.  I decided to choose the one that got me started.  I think I've read it twice before.  I started on Sunday evening.  I'm done with it.  If every author in the world was as good as Chaim Potok,  I would be a much more prolific reader.

My Name is Asher Lev  is a perfect blend of family, religion, coming of age, and art.  It makes me want to get out my easel.  It makes me proud of my Jewish heritage.  I couldn't give a book a higher recommendation than this.  Read it.

Same Everywhere

I'm glad we took this photo at the cemetery. 

Keith wanted to get a lot of flowers because he wanted it to look like more than just us had been there.  We went to Home Depot and got pots of beautiful blooms.  We filled one of our big Easter baskets with marigolds--bright orange ones just for Ian.  My parents sent the ceramic bird's nest back with us from Utah so that they could show their love on Memorial Day.  The rock is from a hike on the hill behind Grandpa's house.  It's got rings that circle it almost like a tree.

We put everything on the grave on Saturday.   Went back Sunday and Monday.  It looked perfect.  The cemetery removes flowers after 10 days, so I went to get everything today so we could plant them in the yard and always keep the nest.  All gone.  Just the rock is left. 

I've been watching my parents deal with people stealing things off my brother's grave for over 35 years.  I guess it happens everywhere.  It still hurt.  A lot.  I have to say, people who steal from a grave are just evil.  I'd say ignorant, but that's just not it.  It's evil.  I won't ever forget the year we went to Stan's grave for Christmas to decorate the blue spruce my mom had been nursing along for a decade or so.  Somebody cut it down.  Good place to get a free Christmas tree, huh?  They didn't even take the whole thing--probably measured for the ceiling height.

Like I said,  I'm glad we took the photo.   Maybe what the tombstone should say is   "Please don't steal my Flowers!"

"Scriptures that I Own"

Someday I will publish a book with this title.  I scribbled it down in primary of all places a couple of weeks ago.  I've pondered on it a long time, but I finally mapped it out in outline form and decided what shape it should take.  I think I'm excited about the prospect of doing something that's new.  I don't have much confidence in accomplishing any task right now, but I prayed about it and am prepared to give it a try.  Since my blog has been so "despairing" lately, I don't really have to worry about too many people reading it and squashing my idea.

We are supposed to make the scriptures our own;   put them into our context;  liken them unto us;  so, I figure as long as I'm not completely out of the doctrinal ballpark, I can write about what selected verses mean just to me.  There will be different sections of verses: 
1.  Verses that I inherited from family; 
2.  Verses I borrowed or stole from other peoples' talks, but tweaked to relate to me; 
3.  Verses I worked for and earned all on my own; and
4.  Verses that were given to me in the form of counsel or advice by people I'm close to.   

I will include the quotations and the date I 'acquired' that verse and the story of why it's important and what it means to me.  Then I think I conclude with encouraging others to "own"  the scriptures they read.

It's scary to put this out there, even if only Keith will read it.  It makes me vulnerable and I have to say, over the past 10 months, that's all I've been.   I always seem to look at the scriptures differently than those around me and come away with a totally different point of view.  While that's interesting, It's a little scary too.   If I write short, rough  attempts here though, it will give me a place to start.

I have a few favorites.  Maybe I should start with one of them. 
1 Corinthians 10:13 is normally quoted like this,  "...God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able;".    I feel very strongly about this verse.  I think so many people in the world are lulled by it when it's quoted that way.   In it's more full context it reads like this, starting in verse 12,  "Wherefore let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall.  There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able;   but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it."

I  have a dated notation written next to verse 12 which says,  "10-8-02  I think this may very well be the most pertinent of all verses of scripture!  The minute we feel unbeholden or independent of the Savior we better brace ourselves for a fall.  See Alma 13:28 and Alma 38:11."

What I mean by my note is that we can never think we're strong enough without help.   We never will be.  The devil is always going to be more experienced than we are.  There are lots of temptations he can put in front of us that we may not be able to bear without being prepared in advance.  Alma 38:11 says,  "See that ye are not lifted up unto pride; yea see that ye do not boast in your own wisdom, nor of your much strength."  If we look at the original, oft quoted scripture the way it's normally presented, we get a false sense of our own power--power that isn't really ours.  It's the power that comes from total reliance on the Spirit that makes temptations bearable.  That's an interesting word choice too.  Bearable isn't exactly a synonym for beatable or winnable is it?

I really like the footnoted scripture in Psalms 34:17, 19  that says "the righteous cry, and the Lord heareth, and delivereth them out of all their troubles.  We aren't just given trials we are able to overcome.  What would be the point of that?  We are given challenges that require us to seek for help from above.  The test is in whether we ask for it or not.

Finally, my answer whenever I hear this temptation verse quoted in a class or anywhere that lends to a discussion is Alma 13:28.  "But that ye would humble yourselves before the Lord, and call on his holy name, and watch and pray continually, that ye may not be tempted above that which ye can bear..."  This one goes on too, but for this particular answer, ending there is okay.  Doesn't that sound like it is  possible to be tempted above your threshold unless you are on your toes and being obedient?  It does to me.  It screams accountability, responsibility and the humility to not lean on your own strength when temptation (or anything else) comes.

So that's the first example of a scripture that I own.  I worked for that one.  Nobody handed it to me.  In fact, you can probably tell, it came from my unwillingness to accept  what was given to me.

Gentle Cycle

The first thing I thought of when I started to type was this:

Grief doesn't fade.  It's as real  today as it was 10 months ago today.

Mikey's 11

Mikey went to Mars for his birthday this year.  We all had to pool our funds to get him on the rocket, but we did it.  This is the only photo that made it back to earth, but at least we know he's okay.

NOT!

I haven't put any of the real photos of the big day into the computer yet so here's Mikey's B-day in a nut shell.

A yeti, and a skeleton--What more could you want?

Chess and Risk had a baby and named it Stratego.

Just in time for scout camp.

One last thing for his room and the saber glows in the dark.

Lunch.  May I say stolen gift cards cause problems when trying to pay.

Only Mikey's had chocolate drizzle.  Red velvet, yum.

There's never been a sweeter boy than Mikey.  When he was little, people would ask him what his name was.  I felt so bad when he answered,   "I'm just a kid."  I told him he was my little sweetie.  So from then on when anyone asked his name he answered,   "Mommy's little sweetie."   I don't think he said his name for a long time and I was fine with that.