A moment in time -

This is not a very "polished" set up - I was cleaning the glass in a photo montage we have - but I was thinking that this is truly a "snapshot" of a particular time in our lives.

A year after these photos were taken, we were at another "crazy spot" in our lives:  one in college, one in high school, one in middle school, one in elementary school, one in nursery school, and one at home in diapers!  Now that was a hectic, busy time!!

But all too soon it seemed that everyone had zoomed on to new horizons, and we were empty-nesters.  We still are in fact!

Sometimes I look at or listen to young moms, and I want to say, "It's not earth-shattering, what you are fretting over. It will end all too soon.  You will look back and see it as the easiest time of all!"

When we were at the U, and we only had Bonny, our bishop said, "You are not going to believe me, but these are the easiest times of your life.  It is only going to get harder, more complicated, more difficult - and you will look back in longing for these slow, easy days!!'

He was right - we didn't believe him.  I thought he was just waxing poetic for effect.  And he was right - they were the easiest times of all.  I look back on them fondly.

I mostly wish I could remember more details - wish I'd kept a journal, taken more photos, stayed in touch with everyone - but the memories that do linger are lovely ones.

As are the memories of having six beautiful children under one roof for a brief but happy time.

Some holiday thoughts -

Last year the house was in an uproar because of the water damage we had suffered and the subsequent remodeling that occurred.  We did not put up a tree.  We did not decorate much either - mainly poinsettias on the porch as I recall.

We traditionally don't do a lot of gifts at Christmas.  Harry and I gave up giving gifts to each other several years ago, so we just got some gifts for Noah - who's happy with just about anything you get him.  Individual families have their own celebrations, and we try to make a big deal out of birthdays for the grandkids - who draw names with their cousins for the holidays and seem to love that.

And the big Terrill celebration is on New Year's.  We go on a big bike ride, courtesy of Bruce's fine collection of vintage bikes.  We have breakfast at Clocker's Corners and watch the morning workouts.  We have snacks and tiny hats and talent shows and gift exchanges on New Year's Eve.  We break out last year's predictions and chortle plenty as we read them - and then write new ones for the coming year.  Everyone sleeps over for New Year's and there is usually a goodly amount of Plunkets to be had.  (should that be "there are a goodly amount?")

So when I suggested not getting a tree this year, there was a hue and cry and a general consensus that I was being Scrooge-like in my attitude.

So I have repented and gotten out some decorations.  Even hung Christmas towels in the bathroom and got holiday themed Kleenex boxes!

Of course the carols are in the cd player in the house and the car.

And I'm once again thinking I might get all my cards out before January - a feat I have never accomplished!!

But mostly I'm excited to think about seeing all our kids together.

I love our kids.

I love memories of other Christmas traditions - the Terrill Family Party at Helen's, the Pizza and Pinata party at Grandma Mary's, wrapped boxes of mac n' cheese and dry cereal, new pajamas and matching tee shirts, golden walnuts, toilet paper roll angels, and movies on Christmas afternoon.

"It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas!!"

"Trailing clouds of glory do we come, from God, who is our home. . ."

Today marks the one year anniversary of the death of our sweet baby Jonah.  He only stayed a short time, but his time with us was very significant.

He taught us all many lessons, right from the start.

Let me begin by saying that I was concerned that possibly I wouldn't "bond" instantly with Jonah.  I feared that his condition might be such that we could not hold him or cuddle him or do anything for him.  As we waited in the hospital waiting room for the word that he'd been safely born and we could see him, our anxiety was palpable.  Then Harry came and told us he was here and that we could come in.  

As we walked down the hall, we heard his little newborn cries.  Never have cries sounded so musical.  He sounded like a newborn baby.  I felt better already.

We all took turns holding him.  When my turn came, I held the soft bundle that was this precious little boy.  A little boy who had many earthly defects, but who felt like and smelled like and was a newborn baby first - a child of God.  Of secondary import was the catalog of characteristics that weren't quite right.

Every time I come across this photo of his soft, sweet hair, I am reminded that we should first see others as they really and truly are - children of God.  Secondarily we can consider the other factors that define them.

As we often say, our sweet baby Jonah had only 11 days with us - 11 days of life . . .  a lifetime of memories. May the memories of the lessons he taught us all never fade.

In memory

I was thinking, on this Memorial Day, about people in my life who have died.  At first I was thinking there weren't that many, but as I scrolled through my photos, there were lots of faces that are no longer in my life.  Like my Uncle Steve.  So many memories from my childhood.

 

Bill and Margaret - my dad's cousins - they owned a clothing factory - and sent us the "seconds" and it felt like Christmas when the box came.

My sweet Aunt Audrey - I'd sleep over at her place to spend the weekends with Harry after we got engaged.

 

 My Uncle Harry - reclusive and a bit prickly - but a good man.

My Grandpa Stevens - a wonderful grandpa - will never forget the Christmas Day he taught me to roller skate.

 

Jim Terrill - we miss him all the time.

 

 My Grandma Stevens - a caring woman, who had the courage to change her life at a point when many would have not bothered.

My dad - at the shop - where else?  A good man who figures prominently in our lives still.

 

 Grandma Connie - what a blessing in all of our lives.  She used to say that she had to keep learning.  If you stop learning she said, you'd get old!

 Grandma Helen, Uncle Ted - not a lot of memories, but they are all the more precious.

 My Grandpa Clayton - a man who was often "larger than life" in our eyes.  And a pretty good magician too!

 Charlie Graham - his spirit is still with us!

Ronnie Horton - a one of a kind kind of guy!!

 

  

Roger Menlove - and we miss having Launa living here in Monrovia!

Grandmother Taylor - a fine woman, gracious to the end.

 

Aunt Dorothy - a favorite aunt!!

 

Uncle Paul - everyone's favorite!

 

Baby Jonah - always in our hearts!  And seeing Karla in the photo reminds me that we miss Adam and David.

 

Bamam - no photo of Budd - but we loved having the chance to know both of them.

Bill - we miss him!

There are certainly others - if I sat down and scrolled through my life, there would be many - people whose lives touched mine - who are no longer here.  

It's probably a good idea to reflect on this more often!

Just another manic Thursday!!

Actually it was a pretty mellow day at Clifton. It was the Founder's Day assembly at the end of the day, so every period was 10 minutes shorter than usual, and there was no SSR.

Bill Card as principal at Clifton circa 1996.

Marcie got the Golden Apple award, and I was the presenter - so that was fun. It was also MJ's b-day, so I stopped by the homestead - it's always good to be with the girlfriends.

But I did deal with a rude parent. I hate that. I wish I could just say, "What is the matter? Why am I at fault for your bad day? Can I help you?" Instead I have to measure my words carefully so that none of them can be misconstrued.

It won't be the kids who drive me into retirement. It will be the adults.

Where Nothing is Long Ago

The title of this post comes from the title of a rather interesting memoir by Virginia Sorenson - and it deserves a post all its own. But for now, I want to focus on something that "came" to me today as I drove home from Santa Fe Middle School. I'm sure that part of this stems from the fact that it was 31 years ago this month that we came here. And the weather and sky and school and the town just brings that all back.

Our start-of-school meeting was held at Santa Fe, and as I headed out on to Duarte Road to go home, I was thinking about Ida Smith and her recent death. That thought seemed to segue into thoughts about my first forays into the neighborhoods around Santa Fe's campus.

I was a Primary teacher - back in the day when Primary was held during the week. I was pretty gung-ho and wanted to do the job right, so I took treats to my kids - especially those who were less active. This meant poring over the Thomas Guide to figure out where they lived. And then loading up into that yellow Ford truck we were driving back then. (Dad was still in Utah I think. He didn't join us permanently until September.) Bonny, Harry, Phoebe, and I squeezed into the front - I don't think seat belts were the law then - and roamed about Monrovia looking for my little lost sheep.

Ida was a good friend to me as I adjusted to a move that I had initially been very opposed to. Sometimes I think about how negative I was. I was not very kind to Harry about it either. Everything was his fault. Every bad thing that happened would not have happened if we hadn't moved. I am not proud of my behavior. Sometimes I think I'm still trying to make up for it!

(You all know the story - about how I came to know that it was not only not a bad move, it was definitely the right move! Sometimes we have to trust in something and someone and move forward. But that too is another post.)

Others in the ward were kind to us. I had great, thoughtful, caring visiting teachers who visited every month. I had Jan Holmes for an Avon Lady - how can you go wrong with that?? Polly was our piano teacher - and she didn't just teach us music. Connie Heslop was our baby sitter - kind, quiet, gentle Connie - who didn't feel better around her? Brother Holling was our home teacher - and he came each month with a message and Eskimo Pies! The high priest group leadership was there to unload when we moved in - Aulvie Bourgeous, LaMar Heslop, Ted Elwell, Tom Smith, Bishop Neeley. I was Mildred Muir's secret sister and she became our special friend. Yvonne Jorgensen shared her doll collection with Bonny. Blanche Card was the nursery baby sitter during sacrament meeting. The first Sunday we attended was the confirmation of the Dequer twins. I could go on and on and name names that would send some of you on a trip down Memory Lane. But that will be another post also.

For now, I realize the meaning of Virginia Sorenson's title. The past is always with us; it doesn't take much to call it back.

And aren't you glad for that??

And aren't we all glad Dad felt impressed to move back to California? And aren't we all glad that Grandma Helen found us a rental house in Monrovia? And aren't we all glad that we've been able to stay in Monrovia and build happy memories here??

I am!

Late Night Thoughts

Anna May posted this thought last week with the daily "Need to Know" memo:

"Memory is a complicated thing, a relative to truth, but not its twin."

Barbara Kingsolver

I was recounting the story about Bernie to some colleagues. I am often dismayed after telling the story when the listener equates me with Mother Teresa or something - because the way I remember it, I didn't really do a good job with this whole situation.

But when I see where Bernie ended up - I think, well, maybe we were just a step on the path, and someone had to start where it was pretty hard and not liable to be an easy way.

The truth is somewhere in-between.

And I tell the story to emphasize how important it is to intervene.

And the photo of Bernie and his bride seems to be a good "rest of the story."