Missionary Mom

I received a letter this weekend from a missionary.  It made me so happy.  There wasn’t any bittersweet to it.  There wasn’t any hurt or wishing things were different.  It surprised me.  He’s Ian’s companion.  Yes, that’s what I said—Ian’s companion.  He told me he has a photo of “Elder Gleason” in his scriptures;  He told me he feels him there;  He told me he heard Ian’s voice when he went through the temple; and he told me his motivation for going at all was Ian.

How can I feel anything but excitement?  Pride?  Love?  He  told me he’s serving not only so his mom can be a missionary mom, but me too.

I got to raise the coolest son—I will finish that job someday, and I’m so glad that he is still influencing people.   I can’t really put into words how I feel.

Lucy Wins; Team Doesn’t

 Today was a full day.  We picked up another member of the Venture Mock Trial Team and had to be at the county courthouse downtown by 7:45am.  First trial of the day started with my daughter behind the attorney table.  She argued Miranda Rights in a felony hit and run case.  Can I just say, she smoked her opponent.  Smoked.
Usually, by the time the trial is over the scoring officials—most from the D.A. or public defender’s office have completely forgotten the pretrial motions and give no feedback on what was said before the actual proceedings began.  Not today.  At the close of the case, my daughter was told that her argument would be used the next time Miranda Rights was being argued.  The judge even tossed the confession based on Lucy’s monologue.  That is, after he interrupted and asked her a million tricky questions.
That trial put them in the finals.  Unfortunately for them, they were assigned the prosecution side of the case and it is the weaker side, by far.  Lucy doesn’t participate on that side.  She was off the hook and just had to watch with the rest of us.  It was close, but the team lost.
At the awards ceremony later in the day, our team took home 2nd prize.  Lucy brought home a plaque for outstanding defense attorney.  It’s hard to be too disappointed when you get accolades from professionals and an award from your coach.  I’m very proud of my daughter tonight.  I’m also very happy she is still out with friends.  She needs some good friends.  I wish they weren’t all seniors, but beggars can’t be choosers.
She’s such a good girl.  She really knows her stuff.  She’s wallpapering her room with posters from all the universities that say they want her.  She looked beautiful today in her suit that is now hanging off her hips.  Overall, great, great day.
Footnote—I haven’t mentioned I have to take her shopping for a prom dress.  Prom is on her 16th birthday 2 months from now and she already got asked.  The stars are aligned for her right now.  Maybe I should write a braggy Christmas letter tonight while I’m still feeling it!  Nah!

Tender Mercies

It’s really quiet most days at the institute.  I’m there with few people and few interruptions.  Most days I have to turn on some music.  The lady who trained me said I could listen to the radio but I decided that if I’m going to be in that environment, I should keep it appropriate.  I’ve discovered Pandora and have a channel or 2 that I listen to.  One is titled LDS worship.  I don’t really understand because a lot of things come up that aren’t LDS and aren’t necessarily worshipful.

There’s a song I like the melody to and the words of the chorus sound pretty good so I googled the lyrics.  It’s got a good message especially for people who are sure that every prayer gets answered.  (that didn’t come out right.)  I believe that prayers are answered;  I also think that there are an infinitesimal number of  conditions that determine how, when and where prayers are answered.

Here are the lyrics—they are more beautiful set to music.

We pray for blessings, we pray for peace
Comfort for family, protection while we sleep
We pray for healing, for prosperity
We pray for Your mighty hand to ease our suffering
All the while, You hear each spoken need
Yet love us way too much to give us lesser things

Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops?
What if Your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You’re near?
What if trials of this life
Are Your mercies in disguise?

We pray for wisdom, Your voice to hear
We cry in anger when we cannot feel You near
We doubt Your goodness, we doubt Your love
As if every promise from Your Word is not enough
And all the while You hear each desperate plea
And long that we’d have faith to believe

Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears?
What if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You’re near?
And what if trials of this life
Are Your mercies in disguise

When friends betray us, when darkness seems to win
We know the pain reminds this heart
That this is not, this is not our home
It’s not our home

Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears?
And what if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You’re near?

What if my greatest disappointments
Or the aching of this life
Is the revealing of a greater thirst
This world can’t satisfy?

And what if trials of this life
The rain, the storms, the hardest nights
Are Your mercies in disguise?

The name of the group who sing it is Mercy River. 

Oh, I just looked at YouTube to see if I could find a link and found out that if I was a good little Mormon girl and went to time out for women, I would have seen this trio.  I have to add—being part of  the Deseret Book Selling Tour disguised as a church endorsed meeting turns me off a little.  When I’m an author and am approached by that marketing machine, I’ll have to change my tune.

Should be Happy

It would be so great to have a sister.  I really need  a sister sometimes.  Someone who would know by the tone of my voice what mood I was in and where to begin a conversation.  An identical twin sister would be even better--one who has had all the same experiences as me and the would react in the same fashion.  Somebody who I wouldn't have to explain why I'm down or confused or ornery.  I know everyone who has a sister must think this notion is ridiculous.  Who cares?  To someone who has never had one, it sounds incredibly reassuring and helpful.

I could call several (no, a handful of)  people today, but it would be awkward.  They would be busy and involved with their stuff and even after I told them what was on my mind, they wouldn't get it.  It really sucks.  I've burst into tears more times than I can count today. 

We found out Keith is being released from his duties as bishop.  I've been reflecting on it all day.  I'm going to have to get up on Sunday and say something coherent about the past 5 and a half years.  I don't know how I will do it.  I can't think of a single thing to say that is both honest and uplifting.  This time period has contained the worst time of my entire life.  It has contained the biggest hit on my testimony.  It has contained the time when I wanted  to attend church the least and the time when I had the most bad feelings toward the people around me.  I has been the time when I have felt the sorriest for myself; the time when I fought the hardest to not think God was unfair and cruel.

I can hear the members congratulating us on getting back to our normal family life and it will be all I can do to not unload and say that our normal family time is gone forever and we can never go back to where we were before.  I can look at sweet, young, innocent Mikey and think, yep, that's how big Ian was when we started this journey.  That's encouraging, right?

I thought about my dad being released from bishop today.  When he was called, I was at the Y.  While he served, I finished college, served my mission, got married and had a baby.  Reminiscing didn't really help.  He and mom left straight from the church after being released 19 years ago this month, with their bags packed and in the car to race across the snowy Sierra Mountains to be with us for Ian's first heart surgery.  He didn't get to bask in how wonderful it felt--that sense of relief, because he was worried for the life of my child.  Wow, I wish I would have that option this coming weekend.

So, I can fantasize that if I had a sister, she would get it.  She would understand.  She would know what to say.  She would  know that I need to talk about my feelings.  She wouldn't change the subject or make me feel like I should be over it by now.  Right?

Read More and Read the Right Things

Came across 2 really good thoughts this week--2 thoughts that are related.  I decided to share them without much comment.  They don't need much.  Unfortunately, this first one doesn't have a source for me to cite.  Just know that it's not mine.

On the table side by side
The Book of Mormon and the TV Guide.
One is well worn and cherished with pride;
Not the Book of Mormon, but the TV Guide.
One is used daily to help folks decide.
Nope not the Book of Mormon, but the TV Guide.
As pages are turned, what shall they see?
Oh, what does it matter; turn on the TV.
So they open the book from which they confide;
No, not the Book of Mormon, but the TV Guide.

The Word of God is seldom read.
Maybe a verse here or there before they fall into bed,
Exhausted and sleepy and tired as can be--
Not from reading the Book of Mormon
But from watching TV.
So back to the table, side by side,
The Book of Mormon and the TV Guide.
The Plan of Salvation is full and free,
But is found in the Book of Mormon, not the TV.

Now, besides the fact that my children don't even know what the TV Guide is (UGH), it's such a great contrasting poem.  And, I'm guilty.
I often am too tired to read my scriptures before bed because I had to watch something--mostly stupid--on TV.

The other quote is from an early general authority,  John A. Widstoe.

"It is a paradox that men will gladly devote time every day for many years to learn a science or an art, yet will expect to win a knowledge of the gospel, which comprehends all sciences and arts, through perfunctory glances at books or occasional listening to sermons. The gospel should be studied more intensively than any school or college subject."

 Isn't that a great quote?  I need to take them to heart.

Traffic Jam

We were caught in a bit of traffic jam  this past week--not  a huge one, just a half an hour or so of stop and go.  Keith gets tense in traffic.  His jaw tightens.  He squints.  I always offer to drive.  It doesn't get to me quite as much because I don't have to deal with it nearly as often.

This traffic back-up was like all the others with us in the front seats together.  Keith pulled out of his lane a little to try to see what was going on up ahead.  Usually he turns on the radio for an update.  I always ask the same question--What difference does it make why we're stuck? We're stuck.

This time, this traffic jam, I understood why it matters to him.  Knowing why something is happening makes it easier.

I wish I could see up ahead and know why I have to be stuck in this place.  Why my baby is away from his mom.  If I could get an update on how long I have to be without him, it might help.  If I could be assured that taking a different route or a detour wouldn't have prevented the being stuck here, I might be able to get back up to speed.

Why?  The question that never stops.  No matter how many days pass or how many lessons I learn, it's still there. 

Under the Tree

As if getting ready for the holidays wasn't hard enough--trying to appear like I care whether Christmas comes or not--going to the store and not buying gifts for my son.

This week has been such a struggle.  I know it's different, but I know what it's like to have your child one day and not the next.  All I've been able to think about all week is the presents already under a tree for children who don't get to open them.  There's probably legos and barbies and hot wheels.  Moms and dads have to pick up those wrapped gifts and decide what to do with them.  The homemade macaroni ornaments just became the most treasured thing they own.
I have kept my news exposure to a minimum.  The first day I heard reporters and police officers say the most asinine things.  "Healing" and "closure" and "back to normal".  I even heard one cop say it was as hard on them as it was on the families.  Wow.

Tonight I finally blew.  I started stressing about being with family for Christmas.  Everyone will be together--not.  We'll go out to dinner; there'll be photos and hugs and everyone saying how much the kids have grown.  Ian won't be there. 

I got 16 Christmases with him.  Some of 'em were touch and go.  Now they're just gone.