A Good Man

Paul turns 18 tomorrow.

How did that happen?

Wasn’t this picture just taken yesterday?

I was going to try and write something clever; a list of 18 things I love about him, a poem or song made up on the spot about our greatest memories. Something truly worthy of the occasion. Something undeniably memorable and wonderful.

But I couldn’t do it. Not because I couldn’t think of enough, but because I could think of hundreds. For the sake of space and simplicity, I will keep it simple.

I will simply tell you why my son is a good man.

Paul has a great gift for loving unconditionally. I have seen it over and over again. He loves without reserve and without guile; even people in his life that may not deserve his love. He forgives and believes the best of those around him. He is always the first one to volunteer to help when someone needs assistance. .  He is considerate far beyond most young men his age. I panic slightly when I think of him leaving me in a year’s time. He always asks me “Mom? What can I do to make your day better? How can I help?”  Without ever being asked, he offers assistance to people who might need him when he sees a need; whether it’s helping clear dishes, sitting by someone who may be without a friend, or helping my grandparents out to the car. He is filled with gratitude. He always tells me how grateful he is for what I do for them and never complains about what he doesn’t have. He is tapped into spiritual things in a way I can’t even begin to understand, and bears testimony of what he feels is right and true in a simple and clear way with conviction I can only hope to have.  My six foot one son is gentle and tender with little children and babies (even when he makes them nervous because of his size), and patient and tolerant with people who may be different than he is. He was a peer tutor for a young lady who had developmental delays last semester and he treated her with such kindness and respect…the teachers were sad when he left the class for the term.

He is among my greatest blessings. A blessing I am forever grateful for and one I could never repay the Lord for letting me have. 

Of Bridges and Water

I can’t honestly remember the moment it happened. And it's not just because that moment happened more than 20 years ago. Nor because I’m almost 40. I’m unsure of it, because I’m not sure it was a single moment at all…but a series of moments. But suddenly we were there.

Melody and I were friends.

This is what I do remember… I was worried about moving from Wyoming after my sophomore year. We were traveling 1600 miles away from everything I had ever known. As a teenager I was especially worried about finding the right type of people to hang out with. And I remember what my dad told me; be the person you want to be and you will attract people who want to be that way too.

It was what I hoped for. It was what I prayed for. And it came from the most unexpected source. A Baptist minister’s daughter. I didn’t really see that one coming at all.

C.S. Lewis once said that friendship was born when one person said to another “What? You too? I thought I was the only one!”

That kind of sums our friendship creating moments up I think. We were peculiar for kids our age. Although our backgrounds were different, we both came from strict and religious families. We had similar restrictions, and similar goals. We liked similar things. We were both in choir, and we both played piano. But our closeness just kind of evolved. And we did it by building on similarities and agreeing to disagree on the things we didn’t have in common. And somehow it was always okay. Melody is central to most of the clearest “brain snapshots” I keep from those last 2 years of high school… driving in her orange Pinto, too many cups of coffee and Frisbee in the choir room, pancakes with peanut butter and chocolate syrup and chocolate chips, Homecoming cookies, Friendly’s after football games. It’s all there in my brain. And so is she.

After graduation our lives took divergent paths. Often far away from one another. But somehow, that didn’t matter. And God somehow saw fit to bring us closer in proximity to one another when we most needed it.

There have been so many good things; marriages, babies, educational milestones, and hundreds of tiny celebrations (“The bathroom is finished!” “I finally figured out how to make that cake.”).

And there have been moments of sorrow; She was there when I got married the first time. And she was there when my marriage disintegrated and I was left broken and lost. I cried with her when she was feeling a little friendless and forgotten in her new surroundings. She flew me to Chattanooga to see her a few months after my husband died so we could spend some time together. And there were many things that mattered in the moment but matter little now; boyfriends, breakups, car accidents and little frustrations about everything from potty training to stain removal.

We talked once about the benefit of old friends. You don’t have explain the water under the bridge. Chances are they were swimming in it with you before it even got to the bridge. And sometimes when things are hardest, as much as people around you want to help, it’s nice not to have to explain the water. It’s way less exhausting.

This visit was all about the bridges. And it was nice to just let the water flow underneath us without a thought. I had been feeling I needed to plan a trip to Tennessee, but that seemed silly so I ignored the naggings in my head.

And then there was a call in February where suddenly that gut feeling made more sense in a new context. My healthy, wonderful friend had cancer. T-cell lymphoma to be exact. Now as far as anyone understands, it’s completely controllable. But there have been less than 40 cases ever treated in our age group. Most of the people who get this are old men. So some of it is unknown. There is so little to know, except for what is real and possible right now. At first I offered to come and be there to help with her family, before we knew what the treatment options were or how that was going to really look. The good news was that ultimately the treatment came in the form of a chemo-based gel. It wasn’t really going to be debilitating like radiation might be. But we decided I should come anyway.

“I don’t think I’ll need you physically by then, but I think we might need each other mentally.”

When we met at the baggage claim in Atlanta, we threw our arms around each other and tears filled our eyes. She was right. It was the right kind of medicine.

The next few days passed both slowly and quickly. We didn’t do much outside of the house… a few fun and wonderful and memorable field trips were planned and carried out. But the treatment makes her tired. Her body and mind are fighting this terrible battle, and sometimes Melody is the loser no matter which side is winning. And I know she was sad. She wasn’t herself. She wanted to be doing more. But I hope, I truly hope that she knows, that I wasn’t there to do. I was there to simply be. And because of that, every moment…even (and perhaps most especially) the moments when we were sitting in our PJ’s on the couch watching some sappy chick flick, mattered immensely.

But the days did pass. And the moment for me to go back to my family arrived. We stood on the curb for a moment as we said goodbye. We hugged, tears on our cheeks. “I love you my friend,” She whispered. “I love you too” was my quiet reply.

Life happens. Pain is real. We both knew that. We had both seen it. In our own lives and in each other’s lives.

But that moment of love was just as real as the pain. And far more powerful. 

“When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.” 

― Henri J.M. Nouwen, The Road to Daybreak: A Spiritual Journey

Past Perfect

"Every man is quotation from all of his ancestors"

-Ralph Waldo Emerson-

This past week was spring break for my kids. Since I wasn't able to be home with them during the week, and we weren't able to go anywhere for a break...instead we did little things throughout the week in the evenings after I got home.

Wednesday was without a doubt my favorite field trip. It all transpired kind of by accident. I called my Grandma Thacker and asked if she would join us for dinner. I thought we could go and see the graves of some of our ancestors; Baxters who are buried in the cemetery here in Pleasant Grove. As I thought about my plans early that morning, I remembered that there was a pioneer museum located not far from our home. On a whim, I looked up the information online and found the contact number. I knew it was last minute, and apologized as such, but asked if we could arrange for a tour that evening...just for our family. I told the woman on the phone (whose name was Ruth) that some of my family had been raised and buried in Pleasant Grove and gave the last name. I quickly found out she was also related to Baxters. She was excited to meet us that night at the museum...the oldest standing schoolhouse in Utah.

It was such a great experience! We discovered so many great things about the men, women and their families who first settled our new home town. It was amazing to know that some of them were our own ancestors. It was wonderful to see how things used to be; pictures of the old tabernacle and beautiful stained glass windows salvaged from the building before it was demolished; pictures of a sleighing party on the old Main and Center Streets; and a photo of a bed and breakfast style hotel that was operated by my great, great, great grandfather and his family. There were 3 log cabins, one of them the original first cabin built up by the mouth of the canyon where Battle Creek pours out into the valley. And of course dozens and dozens of stories.

This is the original school room. Notice the rounded ceiling. It was built that way on purpose, since the building was also used as social hall of sorts where plays were put on and musical concerts conducted.

Another relative, Sandy, show Maryn and Ashlyn how the pump organ works. Maryn pumped and Sandy took Ashlyn's hands and showed her how to play chopsticks.

The second school room, and all of the people we spent the evening with; Maryn, Conner, Ashlyn, Paul, Ruth, Sandy and Grandma Thacker.

My grandmothers grandparents; John Kelly Baxter and Elizabeth Morton Baxter. Grandma told us that John was killed walking home from church one evening well before Grandma was born. 

And some graves of the Mortons. I loved how our shadows were cast over them...it seemed like an appropriate thought somehow...a linking of past and present. 

Say what?

My girls have this problem. They mishear and mis-say things.
Some people reading this may not actually believe me. They are, after all, clever girls who have a great vocabulary and are pretty darn smart for their ages.
Which sometimes makes it funnier.
Allow me to present a comedy of errors...a comedy that will henceforth be known as "Say what?!"
Starring the amazing and talented Maryn and Ashlyn.

Scene 1:
The Camerons are attending the ward spring social, a breakfast somewhat early on a Saturday morning. Fade in. Mother is carrying on a simple adult conversation with other adults, their neighbors.

Mother (to neighbor): Why don't you plan on joining us for dinner. I'm making chicken and dumplings.

Ashlyn: What!?!? You're making chicken and DUCKLINGS?

Scene 2:
In the hallway after the social, Mother and Maryn are talking informally.

Mother: Maryn, can you think of anything we could do this afternoon when we have all those little girls over to play? Something to keep them busy?

Maryn: I think they'll kind of keep themselves busy.

Mother: We could make cookies I guess.

Ashlyn (who has just now entered in on the conversation because she was walking past): Why are you making TURKEYS?

(I dunno. Maybe to go with the chicken and ducklings?)

Scene 3:
A short time ago, the morning after Marcus has come for an evening visit wherein he enjoyed some tom-foolery with the children.

Paul: That was a great conversation last night. My favorite part was when Marcus (Ashlyn enters the room here) said that McDonald's causes cancer.

Ashlyn: What?! Marcus causes cancer?!

Scene 4:
Mother and Maryn are chatting in the car. Actually, Maryn is chatting somewhat incessantly and mother is both pretending to listen intently and trying to sort it out the gist of what is being said.

Maryn: (Cue talking without breathing)... So we were talking about some stuff on science and we read this part about cannibal mice and carnival mice... (keeps talking without breathing)

Mother: (Interrupting) Wait...what? Carnival mice?

Maryn; (Pausing to breath) Oh. Actually, I think I meant carnivore, not carnival.

Scene 5:
The house is filled with guests for dinner. One of the guests approaches mother and asks if they might be able to use the restroom. Mother genially points the way.

Mother: I really hope it clean enough...

Maryn: Don't worry. I'm pretty sure its edible...

Walking with a tassel on...

I don't do this very often...but I want to brag a little about myself.

Shortly after Dave died, I decided I needed to create a life for me and for my kids looking into our future with me as the only provider. So I decided to go back to school. I had completed 39.5 hours of credit before I got married. Choosing what I wanted to learn about was a process, as was determining where I would attend since I was definitely limited by location. After trying BYU long distance learning options, and finding out I was 1/2 credit shy of qualifying for the program, I chose University of Phoenix and majored in Psychology. After finishing that degree, I decided to continue with a Masters degree as well. It was a good choice. But it has been nearly 7 years of continuous work to get there.

And I did it! I did it while working and raising kids and still maintained a 3.5 GPA.

Here it is...the $60,000 piece of paper.

So my sweet, sweet Grandma Downs decided she was also proud of me, and that something like that is worth celebrating. And she put together a little party for me. So many people I love and am grateful to have in my life were there. All my aunts who live here and their families. My dad's brother and his wife. Grandparents. Siblings. Friends I've known for 24 years, and friends I've known for only a few months. Cousins and first cousins once removed. Dave's parents and his brother and some of his family. It was amazing. And I felt very, very loved. And a little embarrassed at the attention. But mostly loved.

My grandmother borrowed Garrett's graduation cap and tassel and had everyone sing Pomp and Circumstance while I walked across the room. So I did get to "walk" even though my alma mater is in Minnesota.

My wonderful sister in law Mandy made this neat little "card" and everyone signed it. 

It was really wonderful.

March

So I think I'm about due for a catch-up blog. Now's as good a time as any.

Chiara

My big news? I got my Master's Degree!! Woo-hoo! I am very proud of myself to be sure, and my stress level has definitely tapered off to be replaced by new stresses I'm sure. I still like my job most days, but have admittedly been struggling a little lately in that arena. Trying to figure out why that could be. There are a few possibilities; one is money concerns that come with the looming fact that my son will be leaving on a mission in about a year and half. Another possibility is a change in the culture of my workplace. Anyway, I do like what I do and like the people I work with. So for now, we carry on as we are. Right now too, I have some great volunteers and interns. I am very proud of what that program has become using volunteers and am constantly seeking for new ways to strengthen and expand it. 

My days are filled with work. Then I gear myself up to come home and be mother. I also have a church calling and teach one piano lesson a week. I don't really have any hobbies but I do get the chance to spend time with people I care about and enjoy, and that's definitely a favorite pastime. Last night, for example, I went with Marcus to watch the National Ballroom Amateur competitions at BYU. So fun! I think he thought his commentary would annoy me, but I actually found it helpful. I got to watch one of my interns, Alex, dance. The night before we jumped in the car as a family and went to our friends the Thomases. We had dinner and played Rummy and talked.

I enjoyed a girl's night out a few weeks ago with the women who love my brothers, Mandy and Melissa. We went to Iggy's for dinner and a movie (Safe Haven) and really enjoyed their company. Last weekend I also had some ladies from the ward over and we played games and talked. Lots of fun. I am very blessed to have so many people who care about me and who I can enjoy their company.

Another thing in my life right now as well has been offering support to a neighbor who recently had the father of her four children pass away in a snowmobiling accident. They had been separated for some time, but the divorce had only been final for 2 days when he died. The most difficult thing of course was telling her children, who are very similar ages as mine were when their dad passed away. I was outside her bedroom door when she told them, and I can still hear their sobs as the realization hit them. Heart wrenching. In some ways its also been difficult for me, reliving some very emotionally draining moments. But I think there has definitely been a purpose in where I live. I am so grateful for the chance to hopefully make her path easier by having been there before. And now, its a bond we share. 

Paul

Paul is awesome. I know I'm his mother, and that makes me biased, but I also think I'm the first one to point out his flaws which drive me nuts. For better or for worse, our situation has made him take on some responsibilities sooner than intended. But in some ways it has been to his advantage  He babysat some little ones in our ward the other day at our house, and he was brilliant. He was engaging with the little girl, Sadie,  (who is 4), held the baby and meticulously got the little kids pancakes and eggs for dinner and settled them at the table. Sadie told me she liked Paul because he called her "beetle" and "stinkbug" and she thought that was funny. 

He seems to be enjoying school well enough, His grades are decent. He was a peer tutor last semester where he was assigned a special needs student to accompany and support during one period of the day. Not surprisingly, he was very good at it. He also did some testing to see if he still qualified for an IEP. He no longer needed services AND his writing score was the highest the psychologist had ever seen. He's mostly obedient and way more even tempered than I am, which is good since he is taller than I am and outweighs me. There is literally no way I can force him to do anything. 

Maryn

I hope and pray we survive each other. This is a difficult age to be and a difficult age to manage. Her moods are unpredictable. There are times that even as a woman I have no idea where all the spastic emotion is coming from. I also know it won't last forever. Which is consolation.

The upside? She is an amazing young woman. She was just made Beehive president and moved into the advanced orchestra placing 3rd chair cello. I can't even express to you what a awesome accomplishment this is. She also had a perfect GPA last term, and has risen to the challenge of gym class. She's really trying to change her habits and I think its really working for her. She is also immensely helpful and capable and does a great job of keeping things together for me when I can't be there. She happens to also be great with little kids and babies and is a sought after babysitter in our ward. 

Conner

So Conner is kind of funny in the way that unless he's not medicated and all up in my grill, he pretty much flies under the radar. We hit a difficult streak for about a week when the impulsive side of things seemed to get out of control (He punched his sister in the face and got in 2 fights at school). But we did some talking and evaluating, some therapy and some med adjustments and he seems to be fine. He is actually our moral center since the world is still pretty black and white for him. He gets very upset when I swear. And he doesn't like it when people hurt one another. He is also remarkably self aware I think. Sometimes when he gets upset, he knows that what he needs is to be left alone and find a way to calm down. I should probably listen to him more often. I think it would save a lot of grief actually in the handling Conner arena. He likes to play Yu-Gi-Oh with his brother and video games of all kinds.

Ashlyn
Ashlyn is very Ashlyn-like. She's pretty clever and cute, and that works both in her favor and against it. She is my biggest challenge right now, but I love hearing things like the following story from her teacher. During conferences, her teacher was very complimentary. She said Ashlyn was doing well and was reading above grade level. Then she asked me if Ashlyn has said anything about her situation at school. I got a little nervous and answered no. And then timidly asked if there was something I needed to know. Mrs. Van Zant shared that there was a little boy in their class, Sam, who has Asberger's. He was high functioning, but socially could be a bit of a challenge. She shared that she was very careful who she put him next to because it could get difficult to manage kind of quickly. Apparently Sam had been next to Ashlyn for some time. "She's so good with him, and patient," she gushed. I was so proud of her. And I went home right away and told her so. I was pleased she was doing well in school, but I was thrilled that she was such a good person, and treating someone who needed her kindness in such a kind way.

Another piece of that conversation is that I told her teacher that what I really hoped for my children was for them to grow up to be good people. And that I hoped I was doing a good job, that I worry sometimes since I am alone.She quickly reassured me. "I couldn't agree more about the good people thing. And you have great kids. You doing your job makes me doing mine a lot easier."

Score. :)

Grandparent's Night

I love my grandparents.

 It’s true.

 And I’m not just saying that because my grandmothers read my blog. 

Even at the ripe old age of "closer-to-40-than-30", I am pretty privileged to have 3 grandparents still with me. I love all of them, and carry with me a profound amount of admiration and respect for who they are and what their lives have been. But this particular post is about my mom’s parents; my Grandma and Grandpa Downs.

So I decided a few weeks ago to call and ask my grandparents if we could share a Monday night meal with them. I wanted to take them out. Happily, when I called, my Grandma said yes. Then she offered to take care of a little lesson for Family Home Evening.

We met them at Golden Corral about 5 in the evening. It was perfect. There weren't too many people and we got to sit in a room all by ourselves so my grandpa could enjoy less noise pollution.

There was one funny thing that happened at the restaurant; we were standing in the buffet line, glancing over the offerings when Paul asks me “Where’s the steak?” I respond (typically) “I don’t know. You should ask. What do I look like, your mother?” Paul retorts, “Yeah. Unfortunately.” At this point, a strange woman standing next to me chimes in unexpectedly. “Wow. I’d make him sleep on the couch for that one!” I smile and reply, “Well, maybe. Except he really IS my son.” She pauses,processing for a moment,  and then stammers, “Oh, I thought he was your…you look really young.”

Ummm...yeah. That’s not awkward.

Anyway, we enjoyed the meal and the company immensely. The kids thought I was awesome since it was all you could eat, and everyone was happy because they got exactly what they wanted and plenty of it.

My favorite part though was when my grandpa (who rarely says anything anymore…he mostly just watches things happen and tells people to be quiet) catches my eyes and said “You have a beautiful family Chiara. All of you. You’re just wonderful.”

Best. Compliment. Ever.

We finished up and headed out the door to head back at my grandparent’s home. We gathered in the family room and my grandma presented a wonderful and thoughtful lesson on service. She even prepared little hands with situations typed out on them where an example was given on how people could serve one another. Each child had one to read. We closed with a few songs. For anyone who doesn't know, my grandparents are trained singers. Singing with them is an awesome experience.  And then we said goodbye.  I watched my grandparents tenderly embrace and kiss each of my children, and the “I love you” they genuinely lavished on each one felt almost like a blessing. The warm fuzzies I had been experiencing all night turned into a teary mist as I also kissed and hugged my grandparents and returned the blessing.

Seriously, a night I’m not sure I could have made more amazing if I had tried to.