"It is well with my soul"

"Goin' Home" Alex Boye and the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.
https://youtu.be/AAw78FOkhZs

It has been quite some time since I last wrote on this blog. Mainly because there has not been too much that I wanted to blog about, until today....

The past couple of weeks have been challenging. My daughter has been going through some struggles, and I lost a dear friend, neighbor and mentor to cancer and congestive heart failure. It is my friend, Rachel that I want to blog about today.

Rachel was a special soul. She loved everyone unconditionally. She never said an unkind word and always made you feel like you were "her favorite" when you would visit with her. She never had a lot in the way of worldly possessions, but she was rich in so many other ways. She would always welcome your visit and never made you feel like it was inconvenient for her.

Rachel lost her dear husband about 2 1/2 years ago, they were inseparable. She has missed him greatly over the past few years. On top of losing her husband (the love of her life) she also lost a daughter and a brother in the past two years. It had been a long and difficult few years for her.

Over the past year or so, I would make it a point to check on her or go and visit her on Thursday afternoons (my day off of work). We would talk for an hour or more, and we both came away supported, uplifted and able to carry on with the tasks of living. However, in mid-October, Rachel's health began to deteriorate rather quickly and we knew it was just a matter of time until the inevitable. Rachel had chosen not to seek treatment for her conditions and so we knew it was only a matter of a few weeks until she would pass through the veil to join her loved ones there.  She made it through Christmas and her granddaughter's birthday, and then it felt alright to go "home".

I saw Rachel the evening before she passed away. It was a Monday night. My husband, daughter and I went to visit her at the hospice where she was being cared for. Her oldest son was there with her. She was unconscious and her breathing was labored. Because of the experience I had when my own mother passed away, I knew it was just a matter of hours before she would leave us. She passed away quietly at 1:00 a.m. on Tuesday morning.

When I awoke on Tuesday morning I did not know that she had passed, but when I checked my Facebook feed I had a feeling that she had crossed over. A video clip was posted by Alex Boye of him singing the spiritual "Going Home" along with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir,and I had a feeling. The words to a scripture came into my mind...the same one that brought me great peace and comfort following the death of my mother 15 years ago.

 "Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid." (John 14: 27) ... and I knew.

I soon had word that she had passed away. Before Rachel got so very ill, but when she knew she was going to die, a few of us sat down with her and pre-planned her funeral. She requested that I and two other friends dress her body in preparation for burial. She also requested that I play the organ at her service, and she requested a special musical number "It Is Well With My Soul" be performed at the service. She wanted my husband to give a talk, along with two other individuals, dear friends. All of her wishes were honored.

Fast forward 10 days... to today. The funeral has passed and we are all beginning to adjust to our life without Rachel in it. It is Thursday, the day that I would have usually made my connection with Rachel. I was feeling a little down, but that is not unusual under the circumstances. In preparation for a church activity tonight I needed to go to the store, Meijer, to pick up a snack to share. While walking through the store I came across a plaque with the words "It is well with my soul" printed on it, and I knew...it was a message from Rachel to me. It was the last one of its kind, on sale, at Meijer (where I used to always see Rachel and Ted), on Thursday. It felt like a Rachel was telling me that all was well. It was very unexpected, but also very welcome.

After my shopping trip I decided to drive over to where Rachel and Ted are buried to check on the graves. On my way home from the cemetery I heard the song "I Will Remember You" by Sarah Mclaughlan on the radio....the song that connects me to my mother. Coincidences you might ask? Perhaps, but I don't think so. I don't believe in coincidences, but I do believe in divine intervention and divine communications, and that is what I believe happened today. The veil can be very thin sometimes, and it would be just like Rachel to want me to know that she was fine and all was well. It was very reassuring because we had had a few discussions since her husband's passing that were filled with some doubt and uncertainty (on her part) about life after death.

I will miss Rachel very much. She was like a second mother to me after my mother passed away, and a substitute grandmother to my children for the past 17 years that we have been neighbors. She was a dear friend, a great support, a mentor and a care giver. We shared many good and bad times together and we helped each other through some of the hardest things mortality can bring. I am so thankful to have known this sweet soul, and I look forward to "goin' home" and seeing her again someday. For now I must be content to know that she is not far away, just out of sight.

Thank you, Rachel for another Thursday visit. I love you, dear friend..."I will remember you".

"It Is Well With My Soul"  - Chris Rice
https://youtu.be/ulfBlMdkT-E

"I Wish You Enough"

Leaving on a Jet Plane (John Denver)
http://youtu.be/H9qvjRVty7Q

     Our son and his wife recently left us to return home from spending their Christmas holidays here. We really enjoyed our too short time together. We laughed, played, sang, talked, shared and even cried a little. Finally the time came when we had to drive them to the airport to return back to their home and lives elsewhere. We arrived at the airport and stopped by the curb to unload their things. We gave them a lingering hug and then waved good-bye to them as they made their way into the terminal and we returned to our car. (Sadly, long gone are the days when you could actually accompany them to the gate and say good bye there as they walked down the boarding corridor).  As we drove away from the curb and made our way out of the airport, thoughts returned of the many, (too many) times I had done this same thing at various airports and times in the past.

     I remember an especially poignant departure from that same airport on the day my father flew away after his last visit to see us. It was his return flight home after the occasion of attending this same son's high school graduation. Little did I know at that time that it would be the last time I would see my father alive, our last "good bye". He passed away suddenly a few months later from a heart attack.

(The last picture of my father, taken at the airport with my son and me.)

     I remember landing at the airport near my home a few days prior to his funeral. So often I had looked for and seen his face in the crowds at that airport when I returned home for a visit, but that day it was not there. I remember how stark and sad that was for me.

     Airports are portals of arrival and departure. People we love come and go there throughout our life's journey. Birth and death are also portals of arrival and departure. We greet and part with loved ones through these portals of mortality. The goal is to make the best use of the time we have together between the arrivals and the departures. Take nothing for granted, because there are no guarantees in life. Make the best of the time together, "say what you need to say" and cherish the precious and few moments. Love, laugh, play, share, forgive and embrace because you never know when that next departure may be the last good bye.


(From an email, author unknown)

Recently, I overheard a Mother and her daughter in their last moments together at a regional airport. They had announced her departure and standing near the security gate, they hugged and she said, "I love you. I wish you enough."

She in turn said, "Mom, our life together has been more than enough. Your love is all I ever needed. I wish you enough, too." They kissed and she left.

She walked over toward the window where I was seated. Standing there, I could see she wanted and needed to cry. I tried not to intrude on her privacy, but she welcomed me in by asking, "Did you ever say good-bye to someone knowing it would be forever?"

"Yes, I have," I replied.

"Forgive me for asking, but why is this a forever good-bye?" I asked.

"I am old and she lives much too far away. I have challenges ahead and the reality is, the next trip back will be for my funeral," she said.

"When you were saying good-bye I heard you say, "I wish you enough." May I ask what that means?"

She began to smile. "That's a wish that has been handed down from other generations. My parents used to say it to everyone."

She paused for a moment and looked up as if trying to remember it in detail, she smiled even more.

"When we said 'I wish you enough,' we were wanting the other person to have a life filled with just enough good things to sustain them," she continued. Then, turning toward me, she shared the following as if she were reciting it from
memory:


"I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright.

I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun more.

I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive.

I wish you enough pain so that the smallest joys in life appear much bigger.

I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.

I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.

I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final good-bye."


She then began to sob and walked away.

They say "It takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them, but then an entire life to forget them"

My friends and loved ones, I wish you ENOUGH!!! 

Fly Away (John Denver/Olivia Newton John)
http://youtu.be/LNsLGHs89iM

Angels Among Us

"Our fathers and mothers, brothers, sisters and friends who have passed away from this earth, having been faithful, and worthy to enjoy these rights and privileges, may have a mission given them to visit their relatives and friends upon the earth again, bringing from the divine Presence messages of love, of warning, or reproof and instruction, to those whom they had learned to love in the flesh." (President Joseph F. Smith [1838-1918], Gospel Doctrine 5th ed. (1939), 436.

Angels Among Us (Alabama)

http://youtu.be/zCYFPMjCgKA

It was Thanksgiving evening, November 27, 2014. The events of the day, the dinner, the cleanup, the conversation, were winding down and we were settling in for the night. My husband was watching a ball game in the den. My daughter was sleeping in preparation for having to work from midnight to 6 a.m. on Black Friday. My married children were spending the holiday with their in-laws.  I was alone and restless, beginning to feel that longing for home, family and friends that I have known so often on past Thanksgiving days. We were alone and lacking in company this year, so I decided that I needed to do something, anything, that would help take away some of the lonely, longing, homesick feeling that I could feel creeping into my soul. 

I had some yarn and knitting needles that I had put aside to knit another dishcloth, like my mother used to make, so I decided to bring it out and see if I could get one done before the evening was over. I sat down in my chair and began knitting. I turned the television on and decided to see what was worth watching that might bring me some comfort. I noticed on INSP that they were playing a series of The Waltons for the day, specifically Thanksgiving related shows, one of which was titled "The Waltons: A Thanksgiving Reunion". It was set in 1963, the Thanksgiving following when President John F. Kennedy was assassinated. The entire clan was returning to the family home for Thanksgiving dinner. I had enjoyed watching this television series when I was younger, with my father sitting in his chair across the room, so I decided to watch is while I knit (something my mother usually did at home in the evenings). 

As I began to knit and watch the show I began to feel a warmth and comfort come over me. I have had this feeling before and was pretty familiar with what it meant - my father was nearby, checking in on me. He passed away near Thanksgiving 9 years ago. We we very close and I have occasionally felt his presence at times when I have needed him over the past 9 years. I think had he been visible on this side of the veil he would have been sitting in the chair next to me, he felt that close to me. l felt his presence there throughout the remainder of the show. I said nothing to my daughter, who later joined me, but I felt certain that daddy was there. It would have been so like him to come and check in when I was feeling so exceptionally down on this Thanksgiving because of the loss of a dear friend and brother just a few weeks prior. 

We usually spent our Thanksgivings with this dear family, but due to the current circumstances felt it better to allow them their privacy allowing them to grieve their great loss of a beloved husband and father. Thanksgiving was Bob's holiday, and we have spent countless Thanksgiving dinners seated at their table and enjoying the feast and company, so this year felt exceptionally lonely and sad. Each year Bob would lead the sharing for those of us seated around his table to tell the one thing for which we were most grateful this year. It was different without them this year, without the sharing, the laughter and the games of "Ticket to Ride" seated around their dining room table with a football game playing on the television in the background and a fire in the fireplace. Good food, good company and good times. I think that had I sat around that table this year the one thing I would have shared that I was most thankful for would have been for having had Bob and his family as such a wonderful and big part of my life and the life of my family over the past 15 years, and most especially over this past year. They have been such a wonderful and much needed support to our family through the difficulties we have experienced over the past year or so. They have truly been angels as they have offered love, support and service to our family, and I will miss the close association we have had with Bob. 

Now, as another chapter has closed on that life that once was. I am sad. I, too, must take some time to grieve this great loss in our life. I hope to share more special and fun times with his family, but it will somehow not be quite the same without Bob there. I will miss his sense of humor, his smiling face, and his hugs. He truly was someone that I would consider an "angel among us", and I hope that he, like my father, will decide to check in on us once in a while and share his love with us once again. 

Angels We Have Heard On High
http://youtu.be/sb0Jg96bWMo

Of Apples, Walnuts and Honey

 "If thou wilt do good, yea, and hold out faithful to the end, 

thou shalt be saved in the kingdom of God, 

which is the greatest of all the gifts of God; 

for there is no gift greater than the gift of salvation." 

(Doctrine and Covenants 6:13)

The Homecoming (Hagood Hardy)
http://youtu.be/xXeHIfMBZtQ

Autumn always brings forward memories of home; memories of apples, walnuts and honey. Maybe this is why the high schools and universities always hold their homecoming events in the Fall. 

The home in which I grew up had an apple tree in the front yard. I loved that apple tree! When I was a child I would climb up into the tree and stay there for hours reading, writing or doing a handicraft. It wasn't a large enough tree in which to build a fort, but boy, the apples were the best in town! They would always ripen in about September and we could hardly wait to eat them, along with some neighbors and strangers who would walk by on the sidewalk and help themselves to the fruit. That used to make my father angry because it was dishonest to him and he hated dishonesty. One of the things that irritated my father the most about our apple tree situation was when the children from across the street would watch to see that we were not at home and then help themselves to several of the apples, but rather than eating them they would line them up across the busy street in front of our house and watch the cars run over them and smash them. As you can imagine, this made my father livid. I kind of think that was the purpose the children had in doing what they did all along - to make my father mad. There was absolutely nothing he could do about it, especially after he arrived home to find a line of smashed apples in the street in front of our houses. I think he spoke to the children's parents about the situation, but they never did anything to prevent it. To my Depression Era father, it was a terrible waste of precious food. My father worked hard to maintain the integrity of the apples on that tree. He pruned it, sprayed it and nurtured it so as to produce the best crop he possibly could from it. In fact, one of the only memories my children have of my father and visiting their house was when he got angry at them for losing their toys in the tree and climbing it to get them down. It was his baby. One of the great things about the relationship between my father and this apple tree was the fact that we could never eat or preserve all of the fruit that it produced, so my father would load some of the apples into 5 gallon buckets and deliver them to friends and neighbors in the area. It is rather funny because he would get so angry when the apples were stolen, but when he gave them away, well, that was a different story. Sadly the apple tree was cut down a few years after my father died and we sold the house. The next occupant neglected the tree and it finally died and had to be removed. Perhaps it too mourned the passing of my father in its own way.

One of the other trees that we had on our property was located in the back yard of our home. It was a Black Walnut tree. I remember the day my father planted that tree as a sapling. I remember asking him how big he thought it would get, and if it would get big enough to shade the back side of the house. He said that he imagined that it would, but it would take a long time to get there. My father cared for that tree as he did the apple tree and other trees on the property. He sprayed it, pruned it and cared for it and, like the apple tree, it produced an overabundance of walnuts that my father would gather and lay on newspaper in the basement of our house to dry out. Once the hulls were dried he could take them off of the nuts and would crack the nuts and put them in jars, or simply take the whole nuts, and deliver them along with the apples to neighbors and friends. It was a real source of joy to my father to be able to help provide for his neighbors and friends, and he enjoyed the visits that went along with the deliveries. My father loved to talk and could find friends or make friends most anywhere he went.

The other item that I always think of in conjunction with the apples and the walnuts is honey. My father helped to manage a honey production plant that was owned and operated by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It was part of the church's welfare system. When my father retired it became like another job for him to go down to the plant and oversee the operations and production there. It made him feel needed and was a source of pride for him. It was a sad day when the production was moved to Welfare Square in Salt Lake City and they decided to shut down his honey plant. It was like he was fired from a job, and he grieved it. I, and many others, were recipients of jars of honey produced at that plant. He was very proud of the job he and others did there.

At my father's funeral his friend and Home Teacher (for those who know what that is) spoke. He brought some visual aids to help him with his talk: apples, walnuts and a jar of honey :-). In his talk he used them as symbols for some important lessons of life, lessons that my father knew and understood well. The apples, he said, symbolized "the sweet taste of service". The walnuts represented "the hard knocks of life and enduring to the end". And the honey, he said, represented "the sweetness of the Lord, Jesus Christ, and his Atonement". It was a beautiful talk and one that I remember well. I have it on a CD that was recorded of that service and I listen to it occasionally, when I am missing my father and want to be reminded of his legacy. A legacy that has become a great blessing in my life. I watched my father serve others with love and compassion. I watched him and my mother endure many of the hard knocks of life, yet they both endured faithfully to the end. I know that both of them understood and applied the Atonement of Jesus Christ in their lives, and because of that Atonement I know that I will one day be reunited with them and "live together in love".

My father passed away near Thanksgiving of 2005. In tribute to him each Thanksgiving I make a special salad that contains - you guessed it - apples, walnuts and honey! It is a sweet reminder to be thankful for the wonderful legacy of a wonderful father, friend and mentor who is greatly missed in my daily life.

Homecoming (Jim Brickman)
http://youtu.be/zp4a0Cmn4ag

Life Is Like a Piano....

Cristofori's Dream (David Lanz)
http://youtu.be/9wxrB41PMhw

     It's been quite a while since I last wrote. A lot has been going on in my personal life. Without going into detail, it's been a wonderful and challenging few weeks. I have been reminded of the life lesson (see photo insert) that "Life is like a piano: What you get out of it depends on how you play it.".  As a pianist, this one resonates with me.

     It seems to be the time of year that can be very unsettling for many people. Back-to-school preparations, moves to colleges or new job locations can disrupt and unsettle us. Fall seems to be the time that if someone is going to move or relocate, they are in the "short rows" to get moved and settled in before the snowflakes fly. We have moved multiple times in our married life and most of the time the moves happened in the Fall or Spring. 

     Our first move to Georgia from Utah took place in October 1987, 26 years ago. My husband had just finished his Bachelor's Degree and we got his first "real" job there. Our son was barely 4 months old. We arrived in the small town of Warm Springs, Georgia the day before Halloween. If you have ever been to Warm Springs, Georgia, then you know that this small town closes down fairly early in the evening. We drove into town and had no idea where we were going, nor how to contact the landlady for the home in which we were going to rent. There happened to be a Fall Festival that night at the school that her grandchildren attended, so she wasn't available at the number that we dialed on the town's one pay phone. (Yes, folks, it was back in the day before there were laptops, cell phones, email, Skype, Facebook - and, the pay phone only cost 25 cents to make a call). The town was so small that the sheriff immediately knew that we were strangers. He saw us at the phone booth (yes, that's what they had such a thing back then) and asked how he could help us. We told him of our dilemma and he knew exactly who we were talking about and how to get in touch with her. To make a long story short, she came over to the house (a double wide trailer on cinder block stilts - that that's a story for a different time) and opened the place up for us. We laid out our sleeping bags on the mattresses and crashed. It had been a long and eventful trip (also a story for another time). Talk about your culture shock!!!

     Seven moves later we settled into the home in which we now reside, and have resided for the past 14 years. Most of our moves have been job related, but a few of them were because I wasn't too happy where we were living. Most of the places where we lived up until moves 6 and 7 were rental places and so we were forced to move for various reasons, i.e. new job, new tenants that were related to the landlady that wanted to live where we were living, return to graduate school, rent increases, job changes. Once our children got in school we were much more careful about where we were located and how often we relocated. It can be very disrupting to a child in school to relocate and we wanted to minimize that as much as possible. 

     At the time of move number 5, my husband told me that I had better be happy at the next move because he wasn't too excited about doing it too many more times! Frankly, I wasn't either! This got me to thinking about what it was that made me happy and how it was more than just the house or place that we lived that contributed to my happiness.  You may have heard the phrase "Bloom where you are planted". I believe this is a pretty valid and wise philosophy. I have found that if I made the choice to be involved and contribute to the community in which I was living, I was a much happier person than if I just decided to sit back and wait for the community to come to me. The community didn't know me nor what I had to offer, so it was really my responsibility to decide how I wanted to live, how much I wanted to be involved and what I wanted to contribute to that community. At times it was refreshing to be able to relocate and "start fresh" where no one knew me nor anything about my past experiences. Sometimes that is what it takes to be able to "start over" and make life better. I hope that I have learned some things along the way..

     It isn't easy to "start over" when you move, but it can be an opportunity to decide what you need to change in your life. For example, if I have been a slacker in one location, I can change that attitude and step up to the plate and fulfill my responsibilities better in the next location. Another thing that is wonderful about the moves was the ability to take what I had learned in one location and share it with others in the new location. This would help to build up my skills and the share experiences  and what I have learned with others in the new location. It helped to build a better sense of community for me. These were priceless opportunities for growth for both the giver (me) and the receiver (them). Not to mention, the joy of being able to clear out and throw away some of the clutter and "stuff of life" that I had been collecting over the period of time before the move. Believe me, when you move as many times as we did, you learn what you can live without just so you don't have to move it again! What becomes important to you becomes very clear. 

    Some of the things that I came to appreciate through my moves were my family, my friends and my faith. These were the things that were constant and enduring throughout all of my moves. As a family, we learned to work together to support and help each other adjust to our new surroundings. I made some wonderful and enduring friendships in the different locations where we have lived and I value and treasure these true friendships. My faith is what has helped me to remain connected to what standards and values I need to maintain and on which to focus during the times of disruption and turmoil. Church has been my anchor in the turbulent waters of the moves, especially when I wasn't even sure where we were going to have a place to move into when we got there. God has put special people in my path at just the right time when I needed them to be there, and I will be eternally grateful for that. 

    I guess the bottom line is this, "it's not about where you live, but about how you live". Home truly is where the heart is, and if your heart is in the right place then "home" can be anywhere.

Home (Blake Shelton)

http://youtu.be/kkoT1nZOexY

     

I'll Be There, In My Daughter's Eyes

The world is round and the place which may seem like the end

may also be the beginning. - Ivy Baker Priest

In My Daughter's Eyes (Martina McBride)

http://youtu.be/eLS0Y40WwlA

"In my daugther's eyes I can see the future

A reflection of who I am and what will be.

I know she'll grow and someday leave,

Maybe raise a family.

When I'm gone I hope you'll see

how happy she made me,

For I'll be there

In my daughter's eyes."

This is a very bittersweet time in my life. My youngest daughter just graduated from high school and plans to attend college this Fall in a town 2000 miles away from me - and home. I'm not sure I'm ready to go through all of this again. I have been through it two previous times with my two older children leaving home and going off to college. They have since married and are living in places that are far away from home. Somehow though, this one feels different. I'm not sure if it is because she is "my baby" or if it is because she is last child living at home. We have have spent a lot of time together over the last three years and it has brought us closer. I will miss our times together and sharing similar experiences and opportunities. We have become good friends and I feel like I am losing her to something over which I have no control. But I have been here before....

A good friend introduced me to the above quote by Ivy Baker Priest when my father died in 2005. She gave me an ornament of an angel holding the world in her hands, the quote is engraved on her wing. The minute I read it I knew that it was something that my father would have said to me, had he still been here. This has come back to mind over the past week or so, because to some extent I feel like I am approaching the "end" of my world as I know it. I have been a stay-at-home mother for almost 25 years and suddenly I'm unemployed, laid off from the best job in the world - that I love. My son reminds me that I will always be their mother - which is true - but everything changes when your children leave the safety net of your home. I will no longer be close by to kiss away the tears, bandage the "boo boos" and give a hug and tell them that everything is going to be o.k. (even when I wonder that myself). The choices have larger and more impactful consequences, for better or for worse. I wonder if I have given them a foundation sufficient to get them through the hard times. I worry if they will be able to handle and manage the challenges that life can sometimes throw at them. Have I taught them, either by precept or by example, how to face the challenges and "storms" of life? How will I navigate the empty, quiet house and the longing to have her near?

I wonder if my own mother had the same thoughts when I left home. I remember my father telling me that she had a difficult time with the transition of having me, her youngest daughter, leave the nest for college - and I was only an hour away! Oh, how I wish she was still here so that I could talk to her and find out how she managed to get through this experience and carry on. Yesterday, I was finally sitting down and taking a break after all of the excitement and work of the past week, and a memory of my bedroom in my childhood home came to the forefront. The words to the song "Home" by Michaela Buble' came to mind. I think I was homesick. I wanted to go back home, back to "the innocent age" before all of the changes of life took over my life. I wanted to go "home" and have my mother kiss my tears away, bandage the boo boos and give me a hug and tell me that everything is going to be o.k. But there is no "home" to go to there anymore. Ironically, both of my daughters have chosen to attend college in the town in which I attended college, just over an hour from my "home". So, in a way I do get to go "home" when I go to visit them and/or take them to college. In a sense, my world has turned out to be "round" after all, "and the place which may seem like the end may also be the beginning." Time will tell.

Home - by Michael Buble - for those who are not familiar with it

http://youtu.be/RPJRAlfLlp8

The Innocent Age (Dan Fogelberg)

http://youtu.be/uunU0Aoup_I

Another Mother's Day....

“All that I am, or hope to be,

I owe to my angel mother”

-Abraham Lincoln"

Because You Loved Me (Celine Dion)

http://youtu.be/VMCTpQYqDLI

        May and Mother's Day always brings me back to memories of my own mother, and of course, memories of my experiences as a mother. Each year as Mother's Day approaches I brace myself for an onslaught of bitterweet memories and emotions. Admittedly, Mother's Day is not my favorite holiday. I miscarried my second child around Mother's Day 1989. I was about 11 1/2 weeks into my pregnancy when the symptoms began. It was a painful and traumatic experience for me both physically and mentally. I was living approximately 2000 miles away from my own mother, and at a time like that, that was who I wanted more than anything to be by my side. On Mother's Day that year well meaning friends and acquaintances tiptoed around me, not knowing quite what to say about the "elephant in the room". Thanks to caring and understanding friends and a loving husband, I made it through, but not without a few tears. As traumatic as this experience was though, it did help me to have empathy for and know how to console a dear friend who later experienced the same thing.

     My mother and I were able to spend Mother's Day 2000 together in my home. Unfortunately, on May 12, 2001 I received the phone call that my Mother was dying, it was the Saturday before Mother's Day. I arrived "home" early in the morning of Mother's Day 2001 and spent that day with my Mother, Father and siblings in the hospital as she lay dying. She was still coherent that day, but the Monday following (which I was also priviledged to spend with her) she was in and out of consciousness. She passed away on the morning of Tuesday, May 15. At her funeral service my cousin sang a medley of Mother's Day songs, and I played her favorite piece of music - "Somewhere, My Love" - on the piano. She loved to hear me play that song and would comment on it as I played it when I would visit home.

      At the top of this blog entry is a picture of my mother and my siblings, my older brother and my older sister (sorry Karen and Kim). I think I must have been about 3 in this picture. I really don't remember. I discovered this picture in a large box of slides that I inherited from my parent's home. After my father died in 2005, I became the designated family historian. In the six years since then, I have had the priviledge of going through many papers, photographs and slides the have given me brief snapshots into my parent's life. My mother lived with a Rheumatic heart condition, enduring 5 different open heart surgeries throughout her lifetime. She was a remarkable woman. My father was an equally remarkable and compassionate man. He stood by her side through all 5 of her surgeries and subsequent recoveries. They are my role models for showing unconditional love and support.

     During one of Mother's last heart surgeries, she suffered a slight stroke which effected her long-term memory, so for Christmas 2000 my father asked each of her children to write up some of their memories of their childhood for her. I took the time to reminisce and write them down for her and sent them along with a note of gratitude for all that she did for me. I also included the lyrics to the song that is posted at the beginning of this blog entry. We didn't always see everything "eye to eye", but the bottom line was (as I found out posthumously) we loved each other. How thankful I am that I took the time to do write those things down, not only so that my mother could remember, but so that I could remember too. Those memories have become more meaningful as I have worked through the grief of this loss. There is nothing quite as difficult as a child losing their mother, no matter how old they are.

    I find that each year, around Mother's Day, I must take some time to remember - remember my mother and remember the good times we shared together. Isn't it interesting how those are the times that stand out the most in the long run. I'm not sure I miss her any less as the years go by, but the memories seem to become softer and sweeter with time. This year my youngest daughter will be graduating from High School in May, another bittersweet memory of May - but that is for a later blog entry, so stay tuned. I guess the bottom line is that no matter how old we get, we still want our mothers to kiss away the "owies", give us a hug and tell us everything will be alright - especially on the days when we wonder if it will be. I miss my mother everyday, but especially on Mother's Day. "Mom, I will remember you, and I will always love you." I think that is what every mother wants to hear.

    "Someday, we'll meet again, my love.

Someday, whenever the Spring breaks through.

You'll come to me out of the long ago....

'Til then my sweet, think of me now and then.

God speed my love 'til you are mine again."

Somewhere My Love (Ray Conniff and the Singers -from Dr. Zhivago)

http://youtu.be/z7GGJUHpUt0

I'll Be Home for Christmas

"All hearts come home for Christmas"



I'll Be Home for Christmas (Bing Crosby)
http://youtu.be/EYOvd2PZoPU

Today is Christmas Day, and throughout this past Christmas season I have experienced some very tender moments and memories that have been shared by family and friends. I haven't lived in my childhood home for many years. In fact, I haven't been "home for Christmas" for most of my married life, as we have always lived away from our family and "home". Although this has been the case, "home" has always been in my heart at Christmas, and my heart has always been "home" during that time of the year.

This Christmas season one of my uncles passed away. Through the process of this I was in contact with three of my cousins that I shared my childhood with. One of my cousins commented about how much my aunt, the spouse of my uncle who passed way, missed my mother who died in 2001. Another cousin commented on how much she enjoyed my mother's infamous braided bread that she would make to share with friends and family over the Christmas holiday. The sharing of these moments brought a flood of memories to my mind of hand dipped chocolates, a multitude of Christmas cookies and, of course, the braided bread - all of which my mother so generously shared with loved ones. Sweet, tender memories. In reminiscing I could almost smell the scent of the bread baking, or taste the creamy and crunch peanut clusters (my favorite) and raisin clusters. Mother baked cookies by the dozens to share with guests and friends. Many of them ended up stored in containers that sat on our kitchen counter until at least the end of January! These are sweet memories that fill my thoughts of Christmases past.

This morning I awoke early and crept downstairs to sit in peace and quiet before the festivities of the day began. I was feeling homesick and lonesome for my parents, my childhood home and my own children who are far way on this day that is so much about home and family. I turned on the Christmas tree lights. I lit a few candles. I put in the fireplace DVD (since I don't have a real one, I have to improvise). I then sat in the chair in the living room, closed my eyes and reminisced.

I remembered the living room in my parent's home. Gold sculpted carpet, gold furniture (it was the 60's after all), a large picture window facing south. A large stone fireplace with a hearth and mantel that graced the east wall of the living room was always accented with a picture, a figurine or, at Christmas, a candle. On Christmas day a fire was always burning there so we could burn most of the gift wrapping. A large mirror usually hung above the mantel. Sometimes it held lighted Christmas bells, and sometimes it just reflected the warm glow of the lighted Christmas tree, which was usually located in front of the large picture window. Two gold chairs flanked the tree, one a rocker and the other a circular upholstered, cushioned chair. Across the room from the tree would sit a large round wooden table that had been hand crafted by my grandfather, a carpenter by trade. On the top of the table with it's hand tatted table cloth would sit my mother's antiqued gold nativity set. I can remember as a child helping my mother finish the set. I remember sitting and gazing at the set for hours as Christmas music, or just the noise that a family makes, played in the background. This nativity set now graces my own curio cabinet at Christmas. It is a precious family heirloom to me. Memories of days gone by, never to be experienced again. On one of the other walls of the living room, across from the fireplace, sat the piano. It was made of dark wood, a walnut finish. This instrument now also graces the wall of my living room, along with two end tables that once sat in the living room of my childhood home. As I closed my eyes I could picture each room in my childhood home. I could "see" the wall coverings, the carpets and floor coverings, the color of the walls and tile in the bathroom. I could hear the voices, smell the scents and feel the joy and love that was there, especially at this time of year. I remembered aunts and uncles stopping by to visit, and trips to visit grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins on Christmas day. Sadly, my own children have had too few of these experiences in their own life. A sigh, a tear or two, and then I open my eyes and the images fade.

Perhaps it is because I am getting older, but certain experiences and memories have become more precious to me over time. I can never go "home" again for Christmas, but I can bring "home" back into my Christmas each year as I take the time to remember, to cherish and to share my precious childhood memories of Christmases past. This year the Christmas carol, "I'll be Home for Christmas" holds a special place in my heart. I received a gift from my daughter of a book and DVD by David McCullough that tells the story behind this song. I found out that it was originally recorded in 1943 by Bing Crosby, during the height of World War II. It was meant to bring comfort and reassurance to the troops who were serving overseas and away from home. My mother would have been twenty years old when it was popular. I can only imagine how much that song meant to the men and women who lived through those frightening and trying times. What comfort it would have brought to them then. No wonder it was a special carol to my mother, and now it is to me as well. What comfort it has brought to me this year, though it has brought a tear or two as well.

Sometimes I think about my heavenly home. I think that the aching and longing that I feel  at times for the companionship of loved ones long since passed is a type of homesickness. I believe that I once lived in a heavenly home with my heavenly parents and family before I came into mortality. At times I can't help but wonder why it has to be so hard here. Sometimes the challenges and difficulties of this mortal world just seem to be too much for me to take any more and I long to just "go home". I think that this home would be a place where I can experience unconditional love and acceptance. A place of peace, joy and harmony and no more fear, sorrow or pain. At times I think Heavenly Father allows us glimpses of what life in our Heavenly home must be like.  These glimpses come in tender moments in- and sometimes tender memories of  - our earthly homes. I think that in heaven it will be that way all the time, not just occasionally.  I look forward to returning to that home again someday.

At Christmas when I reminisce of loved one long gone, I try to remember that they are "home" for Christmas and what a joy that is for them. Even as I miss them, I like to think that maybe they are missing me a little bit too.  My heart will always be "home for Christmas, if only in my dreams."

Heirlooms (Amy Grant)
http://youtu.be/4E7bc149Xe0

Homeless

"A house is made of bricks and stone,

A home is made of love alone"

    - Author Unknown

Homeless (Michael McLean)
(From: The Forgotten Carols)

Homeless, homeless
Like the Christ child was.
Homeless, homeless
But there is hope because
He came down to Earth to lead us,
He vowed he'd never leave us
Homeless, homeless,
For in His love there is a home.

Homeless, homeless,
was His humble birth.
Homeless, homeless,
and still He changed the Earth.
Nothing kept his heart from giving,
Though most of His life was living
Homeless, Homeless,
He showed it's how we live, not where.
When His homeless days on Earth were done
He went home to where we all came from.
And he went to prepare.
A mansion for us there.

He gave His whole life to lead us
And I know He'll never leave us
Homeless
For in His love there's a home.
We are not homeless.
There is a home.

  
      For a Christmas present my first Christmas away from "home", my mother sent me the Mormon Tabernacle Choir vassette tape of their album "I'll Be Home for Christmas" (no subliminal messages there, and yes, I'm dating myself ;-)). She knew how much I would be missing being "home" for Christmas that year. The first Christmas "home" to Utah after our move, I was introduced to this song by Michael Mclean. I instantly was enchanted by the words to this song. Particularly, because they could be related to such a variety of life experiences.

      I have relocated many times during my married life.  It has only been in the last 13 years of our almost 26 year marriage that we have lived in the same home. So, I know a little bit about relocating and feeling "homeless" at times. Usually these moves were meant to better our situation, either with a new job, further schooling or to change to a new environment. For a while we kept trying to find the "perfect location" where we could be happy. One day I finally came to realize that it's not about where you live, it's about how you live that matters most. Once I realized this, the moves stopped and the "real work" of building a joyful, happy life together really began. I don't know why it is that we always tend to look outside of ourselves to find the solutions to so many of our life challenges. We have a choice as to what we will focus on and how we will let it effect us. Some of the greatest growth comes as we learn to manage trials and find workable solutions, and still manage to be moderately happy.   Sometimes the answers are found in changing our current living situation, sometimes the answers are a matter of trusting God and His plan for us, and often the answers are found within each of us and how we choose to live our lives.

  Over the years this song had taken on new meanings for me. One Christmas that stands out in particular to me was the year after my father died.  Earlier in that year my sister and I had sold our childhood home. My son had just recently left home to serve a two-year mission for our church. I was missing him and feeling the losses through extreme loneliness. The words to this song had new meaning for me that Christmas. I realized that even though I no longer had my childhood home to return to, I wasn't really homeless. Christ never really had a home in his adult life, yet he managed to build a life of love and service that set an example that millions still follow today. Even though my son was away from home, living "as a stranger in a strange land", he wasn't homeless because he had the love of Our Heavenly Father and the example of His Son, Jesus Christ to guide him. I realized that even though I know longer had a "home" to return to, my parents had given me a firm foundation upon which to build and carry on my life.

     This year neither my son, nor my daughter will be able to be "home for Christmas" this year.  The past few years have brought a lot of changes to our family dynamics. Through it all I have I have learned that God knows us and our circumstances, that He loves us and will be there to help and guide us, and that "in His love there is a home" and so we are not truly ever "homeless". We may not be able to all be together physically for Christmas this year, but we will be together in our thoughts, our memories of Christmases past and in our hearts.  If "home is where the heart is" then the the heart is always home for Christmas.... "if only in [our] dreams".

I'll Be Home for Christmas (Michael Buble')
http://youtu.be/E4aA_K2MF5E

Welcome Home

"Where we love is home.

Home were our feet may leave,

but never our hearts."  - Author Unknown

Welcome Home (by Jim Brickman, Victoria Shaw)
(From his album: Home)

You're a sight for these poor eyes.
You're the deepest breath I've taken
in a long time.
And I saved you a place right next to me,
like always.
Did you know I watched the stars at night
Wondering if you could see them too,
And if everything was all right?
Not a day went by
when you weren't in this heart of mine
All the time, all the time.

Welcome home, welcome home.
I've been praying for this day
since you've been gone.
Welcome back to these arms.
And I've waited for you for so long,
Welcome home.

I've saved all the cards and your letters too.
Oh, they helped be through each day
when I was missing you.
Do you know how good your laugh sounds to me?
It makes everything feel just the way it's supposed to be.
I'm gonna hold this moment
like a picture that I freeze in my memory.
The sweetest memory.

Welcome home, welcome home.
I've been praying for this day
since you've been gone.
Welcome back to these arms.
And I've waited for you for so long.
Welcome home.

Welcome home, welcome home.
I've been praying for this day
since you've been gone.
Welcome back to these arms
that have been waiting for you for so long.
Welcome home, welcome home.

     Today my son and his wife are coming home for Thanksgiving break. They recently moved to Arlington, Virginia for a job and further schooling. We are so looking forward to seeing them, and having them home for a few days. Unfortunately, my daughter and her new husband won't be able to be home with us this year. We both have been struggling with her living so far away and being unable to visit as often as we would like to. She did have an opportunity to come home a few weeks ago for a short visit and we were able to enjoy our brief time together. Through all of this, I began to think about various times in my life when I have struggled with homesickness.

       I can remember when my husband and I had been married about 22 months. He had finished getting his Bachelor's Degree that Spring and was about to start his first "real" job. We had had to relocate to a place that was far away from much of anything that was familiar - home, family or friends. When I awoke on the morning of my first Thanksgiving away from home I remember praying, "God, just help me just get through this day".  As I stood looking out of the window of our new home into all of the unfamiliar surroundings, longing for home, I felt a comforting peace come over me. The only way I can describe it is as if a warm blanket has been placed around my heart. I knew I wasn't alone. I knew that there were those who loved me, who were missing me as much as I was missing them. I knew that my Heavenly Father knew how lonely I was, and how much I needed to feel His love for me in my heart that day. I needed to know that He knew what I was going through, and that He would be there to help me whenever I needed Him.

     Fast forward eighteen years, to Thanksgiving 2005. My father had just died a few days prior to Thanksgiving day, and I had flown home alone to attend to things there. Once again, I was far from home and feeling lonely and missing my family and friends. The funeral had been the day before, and I was spending this Thanksgiving day with my sister and her family. A friend of hers had invited us over to share their Thanksgiving meal. As I awoke that day my mind flashed back to that Thanksgiving day eighteen years earlier, when I had felt those feelings of peace and comfort in my heart as I looked out the kitchen window. Oh, how I needed those same feelings that Thanksgiving day - and they came. They came through the sharing and caring of this dear woman and her family; and, as my sister and I were able to reminisce about memories of Thanksgivings past.

     Now I stand at another Thanksgiving crossroad. I am thrilled to have my son coming home, but I am missing my daughter and she is missing home. Oh how I wish I could give to her what I felt in my heart on those two occasions. The peace and love of a caring family, who is missing her just as much as she is missing them. And, the love and comfort of a loving Heavenly Father who knows her circumstances, her feelings and her need to feel his loving arms around her. As much as we wish we could all be together for this Thanksgiving I know, and I hope she knows, that she is never truly alone and that "home" is only a prayer and a heartbeat away.

A note about the song below:

     I first came in contact with this Barry Manilow song the Christmas after my mother died. I waited to share it with my father due to the tender feelings we both had that first Christmas without mom. Three years later I recorded it and sent it to him to listen too, along with a card for what would have been their 50th wedding anniversary. I found this tape in his home, near his favorite chair, as we were cleaning out my childhood home. I like to think that he listened to it frequently and that it brought him some comfort in the lonely hours at home. I also believe that:

that someday when my time
is drawing near
I'm gonna hear

welcome home
welcome home
where there wil always be
somebody waiting
there for me
when I go home
home sweet home
everyone smilin' just for me
when I go home

Welcome Home (Barry Manilow, Mindy Sterling)
(from the album: Here at the Mayflower)

in my life
I have seen
far away places
wild and serene
but nothing I saw
prepared me for
the mat on the floor
saying "welcome home"

time flies
see the moon rise
as I'm makin' my way
through another long day
but I'll go
to a place I know
in my heart I know
there's just no place like home

welcome home
welcome home
to that place
that's safe and warm
always a shelter
from the storm
I'm going  home
welcome home
roll out the wlecome mat
for me?
I'm goin' home

sometimes
I remember
all the days I never knew
if I would ever make it through
but just when
I'd give up again
I'd remember when the days
were stormy
home was always
waitin 'for me
sayin

welcome home
welcome home
where there will always be
a welcoming light on
just for me
when I go home
welcome home
no place
that I would rather be
than goin' home

in my heart I know
that someday when my time
is drawing near
I'm gonna hear

welcome home
welcome home
where there will always be
somebody waiting
there for me
when I go home
home sweet home
everyone smilin' just for me
when I go home
in my heart I see
somebody waiting
there for me

welcome home
welcome home
it looks like a
starlight symphony
I'm goin' home