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| Brent took this of me during our stay in NY a few years ago. He wants me to print a copy of it to have in his office. |
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| Before leaving to lead tours through the Ft. Lauderdale Temple, FL before it was dedicated. May 2014. |
I have been putting off
writing anything for the last months because I have felt so overwhelmed. We have started serving as temple workers on
Friday from 3 to 11:30pm at the newly opened Ft. Lauderdale Temple. My 25-year-old son, my husband, and I all go
together—and it is a wonderful way to finish the week—once we get there. Before that there are Monday, Tuesday,
Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday morning.
Then after that . . . there is Nursery.
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| Luna moth, Maryland, 2011. |
A few years ago I served as
the Nursery leader (class for children 18 months to 3 years old for two hours
every Sunday) and I loved it. I spent up
to 40 hours a week preparing.
We had two snack times and
after working with the children for a few months, they cheerfully and actively
helped to clean up between each activity.
They learned that the toys
and materials in the Nursery belonged to the Teacher and that I was sharing
them with each member of the Nursery.
This meant that each child
asked to play with a certain toy or set (Noah’s ark or a magnetic farm book,
for example) and then returned it to me when they had finished—to trade for
something else.
We had a Bean Box—a long,
under-bed storage container filled with small navy beans. We laid out a large vinyl table cover on the
floor and opened the container. Everyone
gathered around it and we played with converted sand toys.
We had time using home-made
play dough in different colours . . . the children got to pick which they
wanted to use. We had cookie cutters
and small plates and small plastic animals for the children to use.
A few times we made ice
cream.
That was before iPads.
That was before two hand
surgeries, a knee surgery, and a third shoulder reconstruction.
That was before a daughter’s
divorce, return to live with us for more than a year, and her second marriage
to a wonderful young man.
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| Last day of class in May 2014. |
That was before seven years of
full-time college classes with my son who has Asperger’s Syndrome. Writing papers with him, taking notes for
him, tutoring him to help him prepare for his tests: all of that has been pure joy—but also taken
energy.
I had cataracts removed from
both eyes last year and the lenses replaced in each. I had the surgery done because of the
degeneration of my sight in my left eye and constant headaches. Now the headaches are done with, but I still
juggle glasses with squinting and finding bright light to read by.
Now there are four to six
(occasionally up to eight) little boys.
One girl has just turned 18 months old, but has spent the last two weeks
napping on her father’s shoulder during Nursery time. The boys have listened to families on DVDs instead
of conversing with their own and seen animals in educational “games” instead of
running after them outside. We didn’t
have a TV until our oldest was 5 years old.
And there are some of the
parents . . . who do not like the way that I do things. I have been accustomed to being assigned a
calling and then fulfilling it as I felt was right.
My people skills often do not
translate into adult-level interactions.
And having spent the last seven years one-on-one, 24-7, working on
college classes with my son, I have not needed to extend myself beyond our
small, comfortable world.
*************
I have just re-read what I’ve
written. This started off as an essay,
but it has turned, instead, into a journal entry listing my complaints and
frustrations.
*************
Another challenge for me has
been the opportunity to work with the Relief Society President in fulfilling
the food orders that are made every two weeks.
I have finally gotten a handle on the paperwork. Kind of.
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| Red-bellied woodpecker Pelican Lake, Juno Beach, FL 2012. |
I look at others lately with
the same sort of pity and interest that concentrated my view of the world just
after my mother died. There are so many
things that weigh on me right now. None
of them are bad or even difficult – there are just so many of them. My
right hand is in a brace because it has still not completely healed and strengthened. My eyes bother me after a day of
study—staring at the computer screen and textbook, at worksheets and calculator. My body has taken certain exception to the
previous treatment it has undergone—I am getting old. I have two rabbits that need attention, but
do not like to be cuddled . . . after years of being treated as intelligent
beings, they get huffy when I give them baths and do not allow them free access
to cords and corners of the TV room. My
sweet husband is under pressure from his work and Church responsibilities—and
his body hurts more often than not . . . and I hate it when he is in pain and I
can do nothing to help.
All these things are good
things: my eyes still see, my mind still
learns, my body still works, the rabbits love to have their heads rubbed, my
husband adores me.
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| Pileated woodpeckers, Busch Wildlife Sanctuary, Jupiter, FL 2014 |
I got to go and take photos
at the nearby golf club last week—and I got so beautiful shots of heron, ibis,
native trees and weeds . . . I even got photos of a red-winged blackbird—I’ve
never see one before. I got video of two
pileated woodpeckers a month ago. My
daughter and I picked two pineapples from the yard this evening and we have a
stalk of bananas from one of our trees ripening on the porch.
I am safe. I am loved.
I have money and time to do things that make me happy and give me
satisfaction. When my back hurts too much,
I have a pain management team to administer shots so that I can continue to
walk, swim, dance and exercise. My son
does the dishes and helps with cooking and the laundry. I have a pool outside my back door and there
is a nest of mockingbird eggs in a tree in the side yard. I have dozens of people who care enough about
me to keep track of where I am and what I am doing and wish me happy birthday
on Facebook . . . and in person.
Life is full and I am
blessed. I have so much. I can do so much . . . I would not change my
life even if I could.
I just get tired
sometimes. But that is OK. It means that I am up and alive and doing.
In college, I remember
reading a poem about a person who spent an evening at a dinner party, listening
to soul-less chatter. As he left the
place, he pressed his hands onto the spikes of the gate—satisfied that he felt
pain for “only living flesh can suffer.”
And after I consider all of
this—like the Nursery children—I also have an iPad.
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