lajendi

Valley Forge

Today's outing with the Grandparents was to Valley Forge. (Did I mention they were visiting?) The weather was beautiful and we had an enjoyable time. 

Being the tour bus driver, I didn't have many opportunities to take photos. At Washington Memorial Chapel I couldn't resist handing Baby off to DH so I could take a few and enjoy the grounds. It is a gorgeous gem. Although, I did read in the pamphlet later that George Washington never set foot in the place, it's only 106 years old. So I felt a little misled, but it is a magnificent tribute none the less. 

 

R and A walking by the church
  
 

 

As we walked in I was overwhelmed by the smell of flowers. I thought it might have been incense, but as I walked towards the pulpit I saw that it was surrounded by potted flowers, mostly Easter lilies. I had a 'duh' moment when I realized that the chapel was full of Easter worshipers 24 hours before. 

   

Worshipers, that's a funny word when you break it down. I wonder if it is related to a Christian fact I read about in Humanities class. In the early days of Christianity churches were built in a specific way. There was an atrium or courtyard where the worshipers washed themselves before entering the main area of the church, or nave. The nave is where all those listening to the sermon would sit. My textbook said this area was compared to the hold of a ship. Believers felt they were traveling through life in this ship together and they would all, together, reach their ultimate destination - heaven, which was symbolized by another area of the church building.

If you think about the way rows of benches are aligned in a chapel it does remind you of the rows of benches in the cargo hold of old ships. I thought of it today while viewing this beautiful church today, with the benches neatly aligned.

(sorry, not a great photo) 

 Another interesting tidbit, the anchor was used as a symbol of hope. The sense I make of that is that Christ is the anchor of the ship, the church, and because of him believers have hope. It was neat to see these symbols today,  in a church built 2000 years after they were first introduced by Christian worshipers. 

there was an anchor on a ceiling medallion in the cloisters that is similar to this one 

This statue of a woman kneeling with a lit lamp reminded me of the parable of the ten virgins. 

 

A in the cloisters

 

J under the Magnolia tree
 
 

Notes from the Past

     Recently we found out that our youngest daughter's birth had not been recorded with our church. Today DH is attempting to fix that but he needed the date of Baby's blessing (similar to a christening, but it's not baptism). I couldn't think of it off the top of my head, cudos to you if you can, so I went searching through our important papers. 

     I keep papers. I come from a family of hoarders but I think I've toned it down a little. I don't keep every paper, I keep important papers. DH and I might disagree about what an important paper is. He would say this year's receipts for taxes are important papers. I'd say that the good bye card I got from my Colorado friend Stephanie is an important paper. Here's a little of what she wrote to me back in 2006:

     "I'm sending you off with 2 things people have said to me that I will always remember - both of which sum up how I'm feeling right now. First- you've been such a blessing in my life, and second - it's going to suck without you...  I hope your new adventure will be wonderful - and that you get to be still and enjoy it for a while. Thank you for your friendship and your wisdom and sharing so many things and eating M&Ms with me until the bottom of the bag! I'll think of you every time I see an almond!"

 

     It is written on a beautiful notecard from Russia, where she served her mission. This simple piece of paper reminds me of Stephanie and the times we had together. How could I not be inspired to be a good friend after re-reading her note?

     I keep thank you cards too, even if it's only the card and a named signed at the bottom. Today I found one that thanked me for helping with a Super Saturday craft day but the signature was so scribbled I don't know who it was from. I've helped with so many Super Saturdays that that info doesn't narrow it down a whole lot either! 

     There are also thank you cards from young women, those are especially precious to me now. Several from girls that I helped with their personal progress. I received my medallion at the same time as three of them because we were all working on it. Now one of them is married, one on a mission, one is about to graduate from college. It makes me feel old, but more importantly it reminds me to serve diligently in my callings because I can make a difference in someone's life. 

     Then there was this, from a young woman that I went to girl's camp with a few years ago. She made it and gave it to me as a thank you. 

     It says, "Proverbs 31:10 'Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies.' Thank you Sister P." 

     What I didn't find out until later is that this young woman's parents had recently gotten divorced. Her mother had left the church and there was great pain and turmoil in their family. When I found that out it wrenched my heart, this note seemed more precious than gold, and made me wish I had hugged that girl a few more times that week of camp.

     You can guess that reading through just one folder of my important papers meant I needed another important paper - a tissue. I cried as I read through the interactions I've had with wonderful people over the years. What a great life I have and how blessed I am to have had opportunities across the country to get to know people who have blessed my life and I have, in return, helped just a little. Life is good.

     Oh, I did eventually find a record of Baby's blessing day. It was beautifully done by a friend, without it I wouldn't have such a detailed record of that day. I should write her a thank you note. 

      Tell me about your notes from the past!

      Are any from me?

A Runaway Train

Yesterday was a runaway train day in two ways. We ran away, the kids and I. Not far, just to Ikea. But far enough that we were out of the house and everyone smiled at least once (it may have been the ice cream cones). 

It was also a runaway train day because everyone got on board and before I knew it we were on an adventure. All I said was, "We're going to Ikea!" There were showers and breakfast and coats, a stop at the ATM to get money for the toll-road and off we went-down the road that feels a bit like prison (only three off-ramps between here and Philly and you have to pay to get off). I missed our exit, turned around and got back on track with little hassle, considering that we were driving in Philly. 

It was a usual Ikea trip, sitting in fake rooms (Baby kept trying to turn on the fake TVs), finding nifty things we never knew we needed, and plenty of indecision. We're almost done with Rachel's room re-do but she needed a lamp. My girls don't make decisions quickly, it might have something to do with their mother who has to point out every pro and con. Eventually we got out, accompanied by two lamps, a poster frame, lightbulbs, a grocery bag keep, and innumerable stuffed things (puppets, animals, pillows, and us - we had lunch and ice cream). 

It was success because we got out of there before rush hour. That was my biggest fear about the trip because we had an appointment with the missionaries at 7. Back on that prison road things were sailing along very smoothly, considering all the snow we've gotten, when traffic slowed and eventually stopped. Pulled forward a little, then STOPPED. stopped. not one inch of movement. stopped for 45 minutes. My sanity was saved by peanut butter popcorn, the van DVD player, MP3 player & nintendo for the teenager, and Scrabble on my Iphone. 

Let me give you a tip: NEVER get on a toll road without at least a half tank of gas. For some blessed reason I had filled up my tank, but several others had not. I passed a poor woman in a mini-van full of kids, pulled over on the side of the road with hood up and hazard lights blinking- waiting. I mentally inventoried our food to see if there was anything I could give her but by that time the kids had scarfed down most of what we had. There before the grace of God go I. 

During this whole adventure I could not get DH on the phone. By 5:30 when we pulled up to the house I was genuinely concerned. His car was parked in the driveway and he was in bed, sick. Sick with the stuff the rest of the family previously had. Well, everyone else "had" it, I still carried tissues in my pocket. Which I used with increasing frequency the longer the day went on. 

After a few minutes of freakout and breakdown the kids ate leftover lasagna, I tidied the living room and pried DH out of bed. (I was not nice to DH - while I had the same sickness I took care of 4 sick kids.) The missionaries asked that I pick up someone they're teaching so I went out to the barely plowed inner-city streets to find her. 

As I trudged to the car I reminded myself that service is a sacrifice, it never comes at a convenient time. Usually the more inconvenient the better the experience... so I told myself. 

Back at our home with the missionaries, the young woman, DH and I (with kleenex box at my feet because my nose was running like a river), we sat down to talk about the gospel. 

It was a good experience. The things I have dealt with in my life are similar to hers, and because of that, what I said was what she needed to hear - even though I knew nothing about her. I'm hopeful that the gospel, the church, could give her an understanding of life and a support structure to improve her life, if she wants it. 

It's like a runaway train though, once you get on, it could take you anywhere. 

los ninos (the children)

My mother-in-law mentioned in an email that she enjoys seeing pictures of the kids on my blog. It pricked my conscience a little, because I don't post them very often. Since we're taking it easy this weekend and I have such lovely kiddos -

Ta Da!

Here they are! 

Last winter!

J's first lost tooth

  

R's fav.

With the AZ cousins

 
Eating cotton candy at a baseball game.

 
Hiking at the boulder field.

This is still how Baby tells us that it's dinner time, except now she puts them on the table.

 

 Mom and R.
 
  

 
In the backseat of Grandpa's car, like sardines. 

J. and Baby at Lagoon

Baby saying, "These Doritos are making me thirsty!"

A. and J. at the lake
 

Baby with her twin cousin (OK, I know they don't look that much alike). 

R. hiking with Baby.

Finally I got a picture of her reading! She does it so much you'd think it would be easy to get a picture.

 
J. with cousin J. (these initials aren't helpful really, are they?) 

All the kids with Great Grandma D.

  

A's Girl Scout award ceremony

Now it's time to take pictures again because they've all gotten haircuts!

National Parks by Ken Burns

Here's a reminder to watch the new Ken Burns documentary The National Parks on PBS. It actually started last night but I forgot to remind you.  If you missed the first episode in the series you can watch it online.

 I would be a different person without our family trips to National Parks.

I remember learning endurance when, as a tiny child, my parents tortured my small frail legs by forcing me to hike at Arches National Park. Only to then hike it as an adult and learn that I was being a whiner all those years ago. Then I saw the pictures and realized that they made me hike in a dress and then I  knew that they were mean!

We went to Yellowstone too, the National Park and an elementary school named after it. The paint pots were hysterically funny- What's not to love about a naturally occuring feature that smells and sounds like farts and makes bubbles?! Old Faithful Geyser is such a part of who I am that it is astonishing to me that my children haven't been there, how could I be so derelict in my parental duties? It is so fresh in my mind, but really it has been too long since I've felt the geyser spray on my face. The lake, the falls, the hikes that are too long because you want to see just one more rainbow pool. We've got to get back there.

I think it was there that my Dad first taught us about manners in nature. Pick up everything, but not the flowers. Stay on the trail. Don't touch animals, never feed them. Be quiet. Leave it better than you found it. These rules were sacred. I mean even more than when we were at home. I felt it when we were out there.

My parents were brave. There was a trip, in my faint memory, down to the dusty southwest. Mesa Verde and Carlsbad Caverns. Being the parent of children now I know they must have had a deep desire to see those places to be willing to drag four children along. It could not have been a picnic. At Mesa Verde there was whining about heat and lack of water. Now I wish, I really really wish, I could remember seeing it.

At Carlsbad my little brother freaked out so Mom spent her day sitting on the rim of the cave. Back then I didn't think a wit about what my parents were getting out of it. At Carlsbad I thought how cool it was to ride an elevator in a cave. Then I got chills, and not the scared kind, as I watched the bats rush out of the cave by the hundreds. When we got home I loved to tell my friends where I went on my summer vacation. Not to Disneyland, but to Mesa Verde and Carlsbad Caverns. It just danced off my tongue.

That's just a few I can think of this afternoon. Thank you to all of you co-owners in the National Parks. I've used more than my fair share of them in my lifetime, but I still need to see those Giant Redwoods and Yosemite.

Tell me, how have you used the National Parks? And which one do you want to see that you haven't yet?

Everybody, but not their dog, at the shore

We packed up with friends bright and early yesterday morning to get to the shore in our non-air conditioned van before the heat would bake us. It wasn't very crowded when we got there but they quickly made their way. If dogs weren't outlawed on the beach, it would have been us with everybody and their dog. It detracts only a little from the experience, you just have to get into that East coast mentality of being packed like sardines while pretending you're the only one that exists. The umbrellas  are pretty though. 

 

 

The theme of the day was sand. Baby was covered in it, head to foot all day (look at the picture up close). I did clean her off sporadically but it was ridiculous to even try. A. was so sand drenched that there is a pile of it embedded between her outer swimsuit fabric and the lining.

 

Ready for her close up. That's called the cheesey face, she makes it when Mom pulls out the camera. This time it really is cheesey because she had Cheetos.

 

Whenever the kids could pull me away they would beg me to attend them so they could play in the deeper surf. My kiddos have never been really into swimming so yesterday when they wanted to get into it, it made me happy. Besides, since I was out there anyway I had a little fun myself (perks of motherhood). The glaring exception in this was my youngest and the oldest. R was upset about something, most likely that a friend didn't call, so she refused to get in the water (no, it wasn't the common female problem). Baby also didn't want to touch the water, the surf scared her. Advantage Mommy though, because I just picked up her little body and went out. Can't do that with R, she's taller than me. They did all have fun playing in the sand. Success!

 

J. and his friend Ja. found a big hole that someone dug and then abandoned. It was the greatest thing of the day (even though I spent $20 on amusement rides).

 

 

This type of sand castle is R.'s specialty. You dribble wet sand and it forms peaks, then she carves tunnels into it. Baby was so intrigued that she watched long enough to figure out how to make them too.

We arrived home at 11:30pm. It was a 16 hour day, full to the brim with fun.

Happy 17 Years!

It's our anniversary today! Yep, 17 years :)

We had a friend stay overnight with the kids so we could have some time together, sans crying, diapers and dishes.

We went to Musicfest and were in crowds so dense that the temperature rose 10 degrees. We ate gyros (Yee-ros, not Ji-ros!), drank smoothies, and scarfed a funnel cake. We did happen to hear a little music, not as much as we'd like to though. It took so much time to get from one stage to another that each group was almost over by the time we got there. So we heard a song here and there but not so bad considering we didn't have to pay to get in.

Then we went back to our wonderful and gorgeous bed and breakfast where I soothed my aching legs in a clawfoot bathtub. Those things are comfortable, with the high back and enough room to actually get your legs all the way in. This morning we had a huge breakfast, I'm almost embarassed to tell you how much we ate! Almost- a belguim waffle, biscuits and gravy, potatoes, and an egg on top of a crisp tortilla - all made to order. There was also a huge offering of coffee cakes, cereals, fruits, juices, etc. It was great, we got our money's worth out of breakfast.

 We were sorry to leave that pretty little place but it was check-out time so we walked up and down main street. The most interesting things were in the antique stores. DH and I have a fun time saying, "I had this when I was a kid!" or "My grandma had one of these!" or "Wow, do you think we should get this buffet, it's only $100!" It was so much fun that we then drove around the surrounding hills peeking into more antique stores. At long last I saved DH from that misery and we stopped to play mini-golf. The weather was gorgeous. I was up by 3 at one point but DH got on a roll and beat me by 6.

We pondered hitting the bookstore but we were both so tired that we headed for home. It was a wonderful getaway that we needed after this past crazy week and the time we were apart while I vacationed in Utah.

An enduring marriage is the greatest underappreciated blessing in my life. I feel in a small degree the assurance it gives me as I go about my life, but really I take DH for granted. He has always been so concientious about taking care of my (and the children's) every need and in fact berates himself too much about how well he does it. He is so patient and kind as I'm blind to my imperfections yet so willingly point out his. I want to show my love more in the coming year. It is nice to have a partner in life, although we don't always agree. Marriage is difficult and imperfect- but it is worth it.

DH- Thanks for all the years we've had and the greater ones ahead!

present

    Utah is the place of my fathers, where my parents grew up, their parents grew up, and mostly where I grew up. Our family hasn’t been there in 3 years, and that is a long time for my kids. A child was born and my other kids changed in that time; they didn’t remember anyone who didn’t visit us in Pennsylvania. For me, because I’ve got more time under my belt and don’t want the years on my face, 3 years didn’t seem as long. I did yearn to go back though. It was interesting how many things changed, and how the familiar had an odd aftertaste.

 

    The places were warm and comfortable, like an old pair of jeans that fits again- Provo was still a college town with great Indian food and the familiar campus. But there wasn’t a person on campus that would recognize me, even my independent study professors know me by name only. As more years go by fewer people give me hugs when I visit my old church congregation, or my grandparent’s little town. Time marches on, on and on, through our mind, making memories we hold on to so desperately that the details ooze out. Seeing places and people familiar my consciousness is awakened, remembering the details of the sweet memories and rekindling relationships.

 

    While it was fun to see the places where I had great times, it isn’t really about the place. It is the place that helps me retrieve memories full of emotion and hope. While far away from those places I remember the good times, the ones I want to regain. They say that’s why women have more than one baby, they can only remember the good parts of pregnancy and birth. It is like that, only when I'm in Utah do I see the imperfections and recall the unpleasantness of the past. This doesn’t completely sully the experience for me, it just reminds me that the past wasn’t so grand that I would trade the present for it.

    There are the people too. Being in a familiar place brings the memories, and we long for the people who made the memories with us. Our vacation lasted a month, the first two weeks DH was there. The second two weeks DH had to return for work and a business trip. The first two weeks I had barely a thought about PA. Is it only coincidence that I got homesick during the 3^rd and 4^th week when DH was absent? We associate people and places so synonymously with each other that we think we miss the one when we really miss the other. Places are beautiful, amazing, and grand - but people are better. Maybe we’d nurture our relationships more if we realized it.

    So while I start anew on my count of days away from the homeland, I’ll try to remember that it doesn’t have to tug at my heart so tightly. If I keep close to the people and memories I hold dear the heartache will be lighter to bear. I always have those, no one can take away my memories or the relationships I hold dear. Only I can do that by failing to record the memories and neglecting the relationships. We have to keep both alive through our own efforts. It is about what we do now.

 

It reminds me of that silly saying:

Today is a gift, that’s why it’s called the present.

We're back

 

   After our flight back to PA I crawled into bed at 1:30 am last night. The plan was to go to lunch with DH today, but since most of us didn't emerge until 11, we postponed that plan.

    Jumping right back into the mix- R. has youth night tonight, which means DH has youth night tonight. I jumped into the garden to pull the few weeds and the overgrown lettuce that is too bitter to eat. Picked a few yellow pear tomatoes (many green ones fell off as I saved the rest of the garden from it's infestation), two romas, two over-ripe green peppers, a handfull of jalapenos, and a few carrots. It has been so mild and rainy here that the tomatoes are happy with their green selves, no hurry to ripen up. I don't know where the yellow squash is, maybe the neighbors liked it or maybe it isn't producing for the same reason as the tomatoes. The gourds are coming out, they'll be fun to watch ripen. Here are before and after pics of the garden-

 

Before-

 

After-

 

There were two carrots that had become rather friendly-

 

A few pic highlights from the trip-

  

 

    

   

 

  

 

 

Thanks to all who loved and hosted us, but not necessarily loved hosting us!!

 

What do nightmares mean?

    When I wake up because of a nightmare I feel silly. As an adult it seems that I shouldn't be scared because of something that isn't real. I mean, as adults we are self-possessed and brave, right? Yet, at 4 am I woke up with a frantic feeling and a rapid heartbeat because of a nightmare. Usually I get comfort by cuddling up with DH, but he's a thousand miles away. So you get to be my psychoanalyst while I work through this crazy nightmare.

    Freud had many specific ideas about what dreams mean. You could buy a book that would tell you exactly why you keep having that dream about Heffleumps and Woozles. Not that I necessarily buy into that, but I don't think our night thoughts are meaningless either. There have been studies to show that we remember things better after a good night's sleep. So we should have 24-48 hours between study sessions to improve our memory. Sleep is the downtime our brains need to process and file everything that has happened during a day. I think of dreams and nightmares as our brain's subconscious way of trying to sort all those mental files, to make sense of life.

    My nightmare was alot like the movie The Game, with Michael Douglas. I was the person in the made-up game, with horrible things happening. But I wasn't alone in the game, 11 other people were in it too. Playing their parts and being manipulated by some unseen mastermind, until at some point I realized they were all actors working against me. There was someone I knew from high school in there at the beginning but they disappeared, leaving me alone to fight. It was not fun, complete with a decapitated hand, drugs, and at the end someone trying to break my bones is what woke me up. How can someone as non-violent and calm as me, have a dream like this?

    Did I tell you that after I awoke I realized that the faces of the other people in the game were familiar? They were the jurors on the trial I participated in just before we left on vacation. The person trying to beat me at the end? The woman who most passionately disagreed with me on the jury. The thing that happened yesterday that spawned this thing? I admitted to DH that I'm tired of vacation and ready to go home.

    It is hard living in Allentown, I feel alone much of the time. It is difficult to continue fighting to be the person I want to be. So unlike being in Utah where I feel supported by family, friends, and community. It is still strange to me to pass someone in a public place who is talking about their ward or home teachers. Or to have perfect strangers say a happy "good morning" on the street. Not to mention the obvious, and somewhat annoying, commercials aimed directly at Mormons. Such a contrast from Allentown. While the girl scout moms talk about how happy they are to have teams play their games on Sunday I just keep quiet. At bookgroup when they suggest going out for coffee or something stronger I just smile and head for home. Getting a scowl when you chirp, "good morning" to a stranger doesn't produce warm fuzzies either.

    Serious Mormons would probably tell me that these are great missionary opportunities. And I would tell them to try walking a mile in my shoes. In those situations people don't want a sermon, and I'm not looking to further isolate myself by being labeled a religious zealot. You have to be tactful and find people in the proper mindset to listen, not just throw out the BOM like a deck of playing cards.

    'In the world but not of it' is what we Mormons like to say. That's all well and good when your world is 60% like you and the other 40% knows what you're talking about. Being alone in a crowd is continually hard, beyond explanation. Just when you think you're OK and have found a rhythm an experience slaps you upside the head to remind you that you aren't in Kansas anymore Dorothy.  Even my church congregation leaves me feeling left out, with so many members speaking Spanish and only one other stay at home mom ,who lives 45 minutes away.

    While being in Utah I have thought to myself that surely God has a good reason for taking me away from this picturesque state and those that I love. Maybe one day I'll figure out what it is.

    I didn't have much time to process the experience of being on a jury before I left, I went straight to the preparations for vacation. It still haunts me that I knew I was right, while 10 other people (who I got along with) completely disagreed with me. (For the record, I still think I'm right.) So here I am thinking about returning to Allentown and those jurors are in my subconscious waiting for me to admit that I'm strong enough to keep being the odd woman out.

    Got some ruby slippers I can borrow?