Have you ever felt like you totally missed a holiday? Like it just went by and you barely noticed? That's how Easter was for me this year. It really couldn't be helped, but I don't much like it. We spent all Easter Sunday traveling, first in a taxi to the airport, then on two different flights with a 4-hour stop at Sea-Tac in between, and finally in our car driving between Bozeman and Billings. None of that felt anything like Easter. I missed being in church. The best we could do was listen to the Tabernacle Choir sing "Christ the Lord is Risen Today" on TV in the morning as we packed to leave Sitka. That was good, but not good enough. Easter is an important holiday. I won't lie; Christmas is, and always will be, my favorite, but when you think about it, Easter is when the greatest gift was given. I like to celebrate it.
Though we were unable to participate in any Easter traditions that day: no church, no festive dinner, no egg hunts, a couple things happened that caused me to reflect on the holiday, and for those things, I am grateful. First, Seth woke up sad that the Easter Bunny did not visit our house. Seth is nearly eleven and fully aware that there is no real Easter Bunny, so I thought he understood that he would get his Easter treats, just a day late. Nope, he was still sad on Easter morning. Apparently, Eli was texting one of his friends and mentioned Seth's sadness. This girl took matters into her own hands. She promptly went to the store and bought plastic eggs and more than enough candy to fill them. Then she came over to our house, and she and Eli put together an Easter egg hunt just for Seth. Before this day, she had never even met Seth, but she felt compassion for a little boy who was sad. "Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done [it] unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done [it] unto me" (Matthew 25:40). Thank you, Skyelar.
Second, one day last week, I had an experience that helped illustrate to me the care and concern of the Savior, his love and compassion, his grace. Do you know the word "Paraclete"? It's a Greek term meaning advocate or helper or mediator, a person who will stand up for you, have your back, remain on your side always. A week or so ago, someone did this for me. She advocated for me in a situation in which I was criticized. She didn't have to do it; it wasn't her duty. But she did it anyway, out of principle, out of care, and out of love. It would be nice if all of us had such a person here on Earth to be our advocate and our helper and Paraclete, but even if we don't, each of us has the Savior to be all of those things and more. He came into the world to be our advocate, our helper, our teacher, and our redeemer. I join with President Obama in celebrating this marvelous gift, and though I was on a plane most of last Sunday, in my heart, I celebrate mightily the Savior's precious atonement and resurrection.
Christ the Lord is risen today. Alleluia!
Friday, April 29, 2011
Monday, April 25, 2011
Sitka Snippets (hypothetically speaking)
When my friend Lisa who works for Alaska Airlines offered me two buddy passes to travel anywhere Alaska flies, I was faced with the most difficult quandary: Where should we go? I wanted to make the best possible use of these tickets. It's likely the last time I'll receive them; we are moving, and Alaska does not fly to Salt Lake City. We only had five total travel days, so time was a factor. Part of me longed for someplace warm after this wretched winter, but most of the warm places also had drawbacks. We wouldn't enjoy Disney (Land OR World) without our kids. I wouldn't go to Texas without Lindsey. Ultimately, we decided on Alaska because neither of us had ever been there, and who knows when we would ever go? It turned out to be an excellent choice in so many ways. Sitka is a small, coastal town, on an island surrounded by water (duh, most islands are!), with lush green hills and snow-covered peaks. It has scenery even lovelier than on postcards.
There is much I could say about our mini vacay, but a couple of tiny snippets come to mind, mostly because of their hilarity. Allow me to speak hypothetically; it will be easier to visualize. Trust me.
Snippet #1
Imagine a couple in a Chinese restaurant in Sitka, Alaska. They had tried to eat there the night before, but the restaurant was closed at 8:45, even though on the phone they'd assured the couple they were open until 9:05. That is not a typo, by the way; they really said 9:05. Anyway, the following day, the couple sat down and ordered lunch, a teriyaki chicken bowl for the man and sweet & sour chicken for his wife. Sounds simple, right? Are you familiar with that yummy orange, but very sticky, sweet & sour sauce? Well, for some reason, that particular day the wife (who is usually a very neat and tidy eater) could not get the food from her plate to her mouth to save her life. One bite of that delicious chicken fell onto her neck, then onto her sweater, then onto her pants, and eventually onto her shoes, leaving a trail of sticky sauce all the way down.
If this was not embarrassing enough, wait until you hear what happened when the couple tried to leave. As the man stood up and swung his backpack over his shoulder, the backpack knocked over a large glass of water which rapidly made its way to the edge of the table and began to drip all over the floor. As the man tried to remedy this situation, he inadvertently bumped the table next to him at just the right (wrong?) angle, knocking over salt and pepper shakers, which in turn caused a squirt bottle of some unknown substance to tip over and squirt the unknown, but very red, substance all over the table, the chair, and even the mirror above the table. By this point, the wife was laughing uncontrollably, but the restaurant staff was not quite so amused. They said nothing (well, nothing in English that is; they had plenty to say to each other in Chinese), but looked at the couple as if to say, "Please. We beg you. Just leave. Just get OUT of our restaurant!"
Snippet #2
So this same couple decides to rent bikes and ride the six miles and back to visit a Bear Fortress. (Alaska law requires orphaned bear cubs be killed, so this fortress rescues them and cares for them until they are old enough to be placed in zoos.) Keep in mind that the man rides his bike regularly, to and from work, five days a week, five miles there and five miles back, up and down hills. The wife, on the other hand, has not ridden a bike in maybe ten years? Of course the saying goes, "It's just like riding a bike," so she wasn't worried. Besides, she considers herself in excellent physical shape. She works out. She lifts weights. She walks 4 miles daily. She attends Zumba classes three times a week. She even does P90X for heaven's sake! This would be no problem.
Bikes in hand and helmets donned, they were off. All too quickly, the wife discovered two undeniable facts: (1) it is hard to pedal up hill when you don't know you're supposed to shift to a different gear and when your seat is too low, and (2) bike seats are about the most uncomfortable creations known to humankind! The nice husband was able to solve the first problem by teaching his wife how to shift gears and by raising her seat. But the second issue....owie!! Without being overly descriptive, let's just say that there are a couple of bones in the human body positioned in just the right (wrong?) place to dig mercilessly into a hard, plastic, bike seat.
The farther they went, the worse it got. To spell herself from the pain, the wife would occasionally get off and walk her bike, encouraging her husband to go on ahead. But the husband was too kind to leave her for long. Instead, he would ride his bike up ahead several yards, leave it, walk back to the wimpy wife who was limping along, and ride her bike up to where his was waiting. They eventually reached the bear fortress which was most enjoyable, but just the thought of the ride back made the wife tremble in despair. A true Montanan, she told herself to "Cowboy Up" because the only way back to food and a bed was on that bike.
As an epilogue, the wife thought perhaps her legs might be sore the next day from pedaling or maybe her arms from holding on for so long. But no, none of the above. What was sore? I mean seriously sore? Yep, those two bones.
So there you have it, hypothetically speaking that is.
There is much I could say about our mini vacay, but a couple of tiny snippets come to mind, mostly because of their hilarity. Allow me to speak hypothetically; it will be easier to visualize. Trust me.
Snippet #1
Imagine a couple in a Chinese restaurant in Sitka, Alaska. They had tried to eat there the night before, but the restaurant was closed at 8:45, even though on the phone they'd assured the couple they were open until 9:05. That is not a typo, by the way; they really said 9:05. Anyway, the following day, the couple sat down and ordered lunch, a teriyaki chicken bowl for the man and sweet & sour chicken for his wife. Sounds simple, right? Are you familiar with that yummy orange, but very sticky, sweet & sour sauce? Well, for some reason, that particular day the wife (who is usually a very neat and tidy eater) could not get the food from her plate to her mouth to save her life. One bite of that delicious chicken fell onto her neck, then onto her sweater, then onto her pants, and eventually onto her shoes, leaving a trail of sticky sauce all the way down.
If this was not embarrassing enough, wait until you hear what happened when the couple tried to leave. As the man stood up and swung his backpack over his shoulder, the backpack knocked over a large glass of water which rapidly made its way to the edge of the table and began to drip all over the floor. As the man tried to remedy this situation, he inadvertently bumped the table next to him at just the right (wrong?) angle, knocking over salt and pepper shakers, which in turn caused a squirt bottle of some unknown substance to tip over and squirt the unknown, but very red, substance all over the table, the chair, and even the mirror above the table. By this point, the wife was laughing uncontrollably, but the restaurant staff was not quite so amused. They said nothing (well, nothing in English that is; they had plenty to say to each other in Chinese), but looked at the couple as if to say, "Please. We beg you. Just leave. Just get OUT of our restaurant!"
Snippet #2
So this same couple decides to rent bikes and ride the six miles and back to visit a Bear Fortress. (Alaska law requires orphaned bear cubs be killed, so this fortress rescues them and cares for them until they are old enough to be placed in zoos.) Keep in mind that the man rides his bike regularly, to and from work, five days a week, five miles there and five miles back, up and down hills. The wife, on the other hand, has not ridden a bike in maybe ten years? Of course the saying goes, "It's just like riding a bike," so she wasn't worried. Besides, she considers herself in excellent physical shape. She works out. She lifts weights. She walks 4 miles daily. She attends Zumba classes three times a week. She even does P90X for heaven's sake! This would be no problem.
Bikes in hand and helmets donned, they were off. All too quickly, the wife discovered two undeniable facts: (1) it is hard to pedal up hill when you don't know you're supposed to shift to a different gear and when your seat is too low, and (2) bike seats are about the most uncomfortable creations known to humankind! The nice husband was able to solve the first problem by teaching his wife how to shift gears and by raising her seat. But the second issue....owie!! Without being overly descriptive, let's just say that there are a couple of bones in the human body positioned in just the right (wrong?) place to dig mercilessly into a hard, plastic, bike seat.
The farther they went, the worse it got. To spell herself from the pain, the wife would occasionally get off and walk her bike, encouraging her husband to go on ahead. But the husband was too kind to leave her for long. Instead, he would ride his bike up ahead several yards, leave it, walk back to the wimpy wife who was limping along, and ride her bike up to where his was waiting. They eventually reached the bear fortress which was most enjoyable, but just the thought of the ride back made the wife tremble in despair. A true Montanan, she told herself to "Cowboy Up" because the only way back to food and a bed was on that bike.
As an epilogue, the wife thought perhaps her legs might be sore the next day from pedaling or maybe her arms from holding on for so long. But no, none of the above. What was sore? I mean seriously sore? Yep, those two bones.
So there you have it, hypothetically speaking that is.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Bridges
This past Christmas, when Shulamith, Mathew, Gerald, and I were discussing our anticipated move to Salt Lake City, Matt commented, "There are several bridges to cross in order to get from where we are now to where we want to be." My response was, "And we will cross them one by one." I like the image of the bridge. Bridges provide safe crossing from possible dangers below. They are generally high, so the view is clear. So long as we're careful which bridges we choose, they are steady and firm. I grew up in Portland, Oregon where several bridges cross the Willamette River. When I was learning to drive, my dad made me drive over these bridges, even though I was afraid. I was especially frightened of the Marquam Bridge. The lanes seemed small, and the on-ramp was curvy, and people drove so fast. Nevertheless, I drove over that bridge because it took me from where I was to where I wanted to be. If we let our fear stop us, we may miss out on much that the journey has to offer.
We just now crossed one major bridge on our route to Utah. Last evening, we came to terms with a buyer for our house and signed the buy/sell agreement. The timing is just about perfect; we will close May 26th, three days before Eli graduates. Some mini bridges await us between now and closing. Next week is the home inspection. I can't think of anything major (read: expensive) that could be wrong with the house, but you never know. I've been surprised before. This bridge is a little scary although when we buy our home in Utah, I'll be thankful for the inspection, so it works both ways. Next comes the appraisal. I'm pretty sure we'll be fine there. Then the buyer's financing needs to come through. She was pre-approved, so it should work, but still, nothing is certain. Mini bridges.
Matt was right. There are several bridges, but I'm happy to say we've begun to cross them. Some are a little stressful....scary even. Like the Marquam Bridge when I was 15. But I crossed that one back then, and we will cross these now, because that's what life is all about, crossing the necessary bridges to get from where we are to where we want to be.
We just now crossed one major bridge on our route to Utah. Last evening, we came to terms with a buyer for our house and signed the buy/sell agreement. The timing is just about perfect; we will close May 26th, three days before Eli graduates. Some mini bridges await us between now and closing. Next week is the home inspection. I can't think of anything major (read: expensive) that could be wrong with the house, but you never know. I've been surprised before. This bridge is a little scary although when we buy our home in Utah, I'll be thankful for the inspection, so it works both ways. Next comes the appraisal. I'm pretty sure we'll be fine there. Then the buyer's financing needs to come through. She was pre-approved, so it should work, but still, nothing is certain. Mini bridges.
Matt was right. There are several bridges, but I'm happy to say we've begun to cross them. Some are a little stressful....scary even. Like the Marquam Bridge when I was 15. But I crossed that one back then, and we will cross these now, because that's what life is all about, crossing the necessary bridges to get from where we are to where we want to be.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Go Ahead: Get Your Hopes Up!
Do you like my new blog background? Do you like the rainbow? As I've mentioned before, I am hopelessly inadequate when it comes to beautifying this blog. I'm so technologically challenged that I can't figure out how to do much of anything. I look at other blogs that are so lovely. Some have pictures floating by, one after the other, sort of like electronic photo albums. Others have a variety of colors and different fonts, pretty wallpaper that changes depending on the season. How do people do these things? The only thing I know how to do is go to "Cutest Blog on the Block" and change the two columns that sandwich this center text block. That's it. And even that is not easy. It generally takes me several tries, so I don't do it often. This week, though, I was ready for a change. I needed something brighter, and I chose the rainbow. Here's why:
1. As a kid I was a member of a service organization called Rainbow Girls. Actually, I was more than just a member; Rainbow Girls pretty much consumed my life between the ages of 13 and 17. Several of us former Rainbow Girls are still in touch through Facebook. A couple of us even envisioned a reunion this summer, but the idea simply didn't take off. Nevertheless, for many of us, just seeing a rainbow brings back fond memories of formal dresses; garters; crowns; DeMolay boys; the Order of the Pillow (Don't even ask!); and a 3-day slumber party each year (AKA Grand Assembly).
2. Rainbows are bright, and after a gruelling Montana winter, we need bright things. We need to know that even though it doesn't quite feel like it yet, spring will come. It will. And summer after that. Warm days. Gentle breezes. NO SNOW. It will happen.
3. Rainbows offer hope. In the midst of turmoil and distress, the rainbow reminds us of God's promises and how He always keeps them no matter what. I remember last year when Gerald and I taught this story in our Gospel Doctrine class. "I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth" (Genesis 9:13). Rainbows remind me of covenants, and I am thankful.
4. Really, this is more like #3 continued. You have all heard the expression "Don't get your hopes up." Its intent is to shield us from future disappointment. If we don't get our hopes up, theoretically we won't be sad when what we hoped for doesn't turn out the way we...well, hoped. Just today, Shulamith and I were texting about a circumstance that might cause us to get our hopes up, some initial interest in our house. Not a genuine offer, mind you, but some early interest. (In case you haven't kept up with the blog, our house is on the market.) Shulamith said, "But we won't get our hopes up yet, right?" I concurred.
Then I thought back to something a friend once told me. She sometimes reads this blog, so if you're reading, Susie, know that your wise words do not go unnoticed. Susie said that once we're in a position to say "Don't get your hopes up," they're obviously already up, so we might as well just enjoy the hope. Spot on, Susie! So I decided if I want to feel hopeful about this situation with our house, I will. I realize that it's early and that much could go wrong. Maybe the prospective buyer won't make an offer after all. Maybe he or she will, but we won't like it. And even if we do like it, perhaps the buyer's financing with fall through. Indeed, much can go wrong. Still, why not enjoy the hope while it lasts?
So here's my new blog background. Though you many not be a former Rainbow Girl, I pray that the rainbow reminds you of something sweet from your childhood, of brighter days ahead, of God's promises and covenants, and of never-ending hope.
1. As a kid I was a member of a service organization called Rainbow Girls. Actually, I was more than just a member; Rainbow Girls pretty much consumed my life between the ages of 13 and 17. Several of us former Rainbow Girls are still in touch through Facebook. A couple of us even envisioned a reunion this summer, but the idea simply didn't take off. Nevertheless, for many of us, just seeing a rainbow brings back fond memories of formal dresses; garters; crowns; DeMolay boys; the Order of the Pillow (Don't even ask!); and a 3-day slumber party each year (AKA Grand Assembly).
2. Rainbows are bright, and after a gruelling Montana winter, we need bright things. We need to know that even though it doesn't quite feel like it yet, spring will come. It will. And summer after that. Warm days. Gentle breezes. NO SNOW. It will happen.
3. Rainbows offer hope. In the midst of turmoil and distress, the rainbow reminds us of God's promises and how He always keeps them no matter what. I remember last year when Gerald and I taught this story in our Gospel Doctrine class. "I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth" (Genesis 9:13). Rainbows remind me of covenants, and I am thankful.
4. Really, this is more like #3 continued. You have all heard the expression "Don't get your hopes up." Its intent is to shield us from future disappointment. If we don't get our hopes up, theoretically we won't be sad when what we hoped for doesn't turn out the way we...well, hoped. Just today, Shulamith and I were texting about a circumstance that might cause us to get our hopes up, some initial interest in our house. Not a genuine offer, mind you, but some early interest. (In case you haven't kept up with the blog, our house is on the market.) Shulamith said, "But we won't get our hopes up yet, right?" I concurred.
Then I thought back to something a friend once told me. She sometimes reads this blog, so if you're reading, Susie, know that your wise words do not go unnoticed. Susie said that once we're in a position to say "Don't get your hopes up," they're obviously already up, so we might as well just enjoy the hope. Spot on, Susie! So I decided if I want to feel hopeful about this situation with our house, I will. I realize that it's early and that much could go wrong. Maybe the prospective buyer won't make an offer after all. Maybe he or she will, but we won't like it. And even if we do like it, perhaps the buyer's financing with fall through. Indeed, much can go wrong. Still, why not enjoy the hope while it lasts?
So here's my new blog background. Though you many not be a former Rainbow Girl, I pray that the rainbow reminds you of something sweet from your childhood, of brighter days ahead, of God's promises and covenants, and of never-ending hope.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Mom, Can I Take Piano Lessons?
Once upon a time, a little boy asked his mom if he could take piano lessons. Several years and several hundred lessons later, he performed Saturday evening with two other piano students in their senior recital. It was an evening to remember. Entertaining an audience filled with relatives and friends, Eli, Justin, and Jensen began by playing the song each of them played in his/her very first piano recital. Following these adorable but rather short songs, the students played the four pieces they played in district competitions during their four years of high school.
(May I insert a personal comment here? Of course I can; this is, after all, my blog. Another name for these district competitions is "adjudication." Yet another name for them: "mother torture!" Remember me telling you how much I hate spelling bees? Well, I hate piano adjudications even more! They are so awful; you don't even know. You sit in a silent room, while your precious son (or daughter) bravely walks up to the piano to face the judge. He announces his name and the name of the song he will play and then sits down at the piano. As a mom, you sit nervously, praying fervently that your child will play his best, that he'll get all the notes right, that he'll feel good about his performance, and that the judge will like it. Then you listen. You know the song measure for measure because you've heard it 5,000,000 times, but this time it seems to take hours to get through it. Finally finished, your child stands and awaits comments from the judge. He won't receive his actual score until later in the week. A "1" is good. A "2" is not so good. It's hard to wait.
Here's the thing. I'm just not into this. For me, playing piano or any instrument is miraculous. I don't know how to play anything, and those who do have my utmost admiration. Music is joyous in and of itself. It seems that should be enough. Why does it have to be evaluated? Why does it need to be judged? Why must people compete to see who does it better? Shouldn't the purpose of music be simply to make people happy? I dearly love to watch Eli perform, but these adjudications about do me in, so much so that at one point, Eli's piano teacher Elinore (pictured here with Eli and me) sweetly suggested that maybe I not attend them. I get too nervous. I make Eli nervous. He doesn't play his best. Downward spiral. You get it. I willingly agreed. What a relief to be excused from this torture! From that point on, I attended the performances, but not the adjudications.)
Okay, back to the senior recital. After they played their district pieces, Jensen performed a lyrical dance. Elinore wanted to spotlight the kids for all their artistic work, and Jensen is also a dancer, so she danced. And beautifully, I might add. All three of these kids also sing, so following Jensen's dance, they each sang a solo, and Eli and Jensen played their own accompaniment. This might have been my favorite part of the evening. Eli sang the song 1,000 Miles. We asked ourselves, "Where in the world did this kid get such a beautiful voice?" Certainly not from his mother or father! After the solos, Eli and Justin sang a duet, their own made-up version of "Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better" from the musical Annie, Get Your Gun, complete with hand motions and Eli hacky sacking even! It was surely the comic relief of the evening. To conclude, the three performers donned capes, hats, and mustaches and played a finale all together. Six hands on the keyboard at the same time....it was fantastic!
Once upon a time a little boy asked his mom if he could take piano lessons. And he stuck with it all the way through high school. Congratulations, Eli. We love you and could not be any prouder.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Utah Weekends
Someone once wrote, "A daughter is a little girl who grows up to be a best friend." I know it doesn't always happen like that, but for me, this statement couldn't be any more true. Shulamith has lived in Utah for the majority of the past seven years. During college, she was home summers, but still, the greater part of the year she spent in Utah. In those seven years, I've been fortunate to have the resources to visit her often. I couldn't begin to count the number of trips I've made to Utah, dozens for sure. Since she was married just over a year ago, these visits now include her husband, Mathew. He is so very patient and understanding. I mean seriously, what new husband truly wants his wife's mother sleeping on his living room floor one weekend every month, sometimes for several days? But Matt just smiles and goes with it. He even thanks me for coming to visit when we say goodbye. Shulamith scored big time when she found this guy.
This past visit was similar to our other "Utah weekends" with one exception. We had the opportunity to attend one session of General Conference, our church's semi-annual general meeting which is broadcast to members throughout the world. Matt took this picture of us just as we were leaving for the Sunday afternoon session. It was my first time attending General Conference in person, and it was everything and more than I expected. I will never forget how it felt to be there. Snow covered Temple Square and fell gently upon us as we walked from the parking lot to the conference center. It is an experience in itself to sit in an arena that seats 21,000 and is filled to capacity; I felt very small. And yet, I also felt profoundly welcome. How edifying to hear our church leaders speak of the value of marriage and the importance of loving our children by focusing our discipline on nurturing who they are rather than punishing what they do. I was able to get five tickets, so we could take Matt's parents with us. It was lovely to be united both as family and in our common faith.
The remainder of the weekend, we played, played, played! One night when Matt had to work, Shulamith and I went to dinner at The Melting Pot. I'm pretty sure it's Utah's answer to breaking one's diet. A 3-hour dining experience, this meal consisted of four courses: Swiss fondue with French bread and apples; spinach mushroom salad; chicken burgundy broth with various meats, vegetables, and pasta; and (finally!) milk chocolate fondue covered with crushed Oreos, served with delicious dipping choices including cheesecake, marshmallows, rice crispy treats, pound cake, and fresh strawberries and bananas. Are you feelin' it? The most fun part by far was watching Shulamith attempt to locate a missing ravioli in the pot of burgundy broth. I was laughing out loud.
Surprisingly, we were able to walk, not roll, out of the restaurant. Somehow we even went on to enjoy many other marvellous meals including our standards: Cafe Rio, Pei Wei, and Cheesecake Factory. We also tried a new bakery for breakfast one morning, and on the way to the airport Monday night, we went to a place Shulamith and Matt recently discovered, The Red Iguana, where we ran into a couple from Billings who had driven down for conference. Small world. We had only a brief hour with Isaiah at Smash Burgers. Other than that, he worked the entire time I was there at that stupid (but necessary) job of his.
As for movies, we saw three. The best was Lincoln Lawyer. There was enough action to keep me interested but not so much to be scary/violent, and Matthew McConaughey always provides decent eye candy. Red Riding Hood and Source Code were also plenty entertaining. And let's not forget shopping. We found some great deals at Down East. In fact, the skirt I'm wearing in this photo and the shirt Shulamith's wearing both came from there. We each bought both, but decided not to be twins at conference.
It was another great addition to the history of Terrianne and Shulamith's weekends in Utah. I will go back for a few days in May when my semester ends, and perhaps that will be my last official visit?? After that, hopefully, we will be Utes ourselves!
A daughter is a little girl who grows up to be a best friend. Thank goodness!
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