Friday, August 10, 2012

53 years old and hurricane season



We're gearing up for hurricane season here.  Filling up the red, twenty-some, 5-gallon containers with gas--starting the huge generator every month to be sure that it works; buying bottled water by the case and stacking them waist-high along one of the the hallway walls, Brent beginning to keep the Emergency Essentials catalogues that come in the mail and asking me to order canned butter and fresh, canned cheddar cheese.  I'm afraid that our idea of "roughing it" entails the absence of a dryer should we need to run the house off of the generator.  We've used it once for about 24 hours.  I'm glad that we have it--I'm also glad that we live near a charging station where the power comes in in huge volts and goes out in tight, little, expensive packages for people to use.  Our 72 hour kit includes a toilet seat that fits over a huge bucket and LOTS of tp and powder stuff that neutralizes . . . well, you know . . ., tents, battery powered fans, a chainsaw, a full tool kit, a first aid kit the size of a briefcase, a fire/water-proof lock box for birth certificates, etc--none of which I could carry out in a backpack—actually I couldn’t even carry any of it.  

We talked about what to do if a hurricane should come near Palm Beach, FL while Brent and Nate are driving west to BYU.  Brent thought about loading up the Expedition with everything we’d need to survive at a shelter.  I told him that, were a level 3 or 4 hurricane to even look at Palm Beach while he was gone, I would pack up the pets, the documents, emergency cash and a formal blue silk gown that I've never worn--and drive north.  We have flood, wind, fire, hurricane, and water damage insurance.  I also know the GPS coordinates for the house, so if it got swept out to sea, I would know where to return to after everything was cleaned up and re-built.  

When we got flooded in Texas, I was expecting to stay at the house with Brent until re-construction got underway.  Those of you who know me know how well THAT went.  
I am now even further from being the outdoorsy, camping, roughing it in the outdoor elements that I was as a teenager.

Now I get shots to manage the pain in my lower back 4 to 5 times a year, my right foot didn't heal properly (left top part of the proximal phalanges has splintered off and is floating about just below my little toe [or the piggy that went wee-wee-wee all the way home rests on a bone that is missing one side]) so I keep my right foot taped.  I did too much too soon after Dr. Acosta removed the pisiform bone from my left hand and so I keep that taped up, too.  When my left hand was immobilized in bandages, I overworked my right hand and so the ligament over my first knuckle is inflamed and needs to be taped each morning.  

Should our home be threatened today—I am done fighting the physical world and I am ready to run and take cover.  My determination to endure hardship has shriveled into a dry crust of my former bravado.  I am 53.  I am too old—I have banged up my body too severely—to continue to roof houses or to dig out dead tree roots or to spend 9 hours outside, in 95 degree heat, weeding the gardens. 

I am so adamant about this because it bothers me so much.  I want to be able to sit for an hour without having to stand up and walk around.  I want to saddle my horse and ride trails in the afternoon.  I want to be able to re-roof our house because it needs it and I hate the thought of paying someone to do what I can do myself.  I want to be able to do handstands and run along a balance beam and jump on the big trampoline—heck, I’d be excited just to be able to run.  I am tired and probably hungry and a little dehydrated.  The house is in a continual shambles—boxes of food storage from when we cleaned out the guest apartment for Lauren; toys and a high chair and two car seats are still in the living room and in the way out in the garage almost a month after the grandchildren are gone.
 
Boy!  Am I feeling sorry for myself.

For all of that I complain, I am so happy with my life—who I am—what I am doing—who I am with.

I could never have imagined being as happy as I am now . . . remarkable?

Yes.  Yes it is.

Saturday, June 30, 2012

Bones I Don't Have Any More AND Words Have Power Talk


It has just occurred to me this week that I only have 204 bones in my body now.  I know that amputees have less than most of us, but these two bones have come out of my left hand . . . one at a time, over a period of 7 years.  Taking the second bone out (the Pisiform) was such a rare operation that the nurses and admitting staff didn't even recognize what the doctor would be removing.


Both palms up together--they look almost the same.


From the back, its a little easier to see that something is different.


The scar is not all that noticeable.

Good news . . . The operation was quick and immediately took care of the sharp pain that had been radiating from the lower left corner of my left hand palm up through my fingers and down the length of my arm.  The doctor told me that after he opened my hand up, he found the bone--and looked for the cartlige that should have surrounded it.  There was nothing there.  So that's why it hurt--bone on muscle and nerves.  Nice to have that taken care of.

Bad news . . .  I did have an allergic reaction to something that got on my skin while the doctor was putting on the partial cast and bandages.  THAT event caused horrible itching--to the point that I tore off the bandages after only two days . . . to find skin covered with a rough, raised, angry rash that ITCHED.  Have I mentioned that it itched?  I would rather hurt than itch.  Much rather hurt than itch.  

It's all good now, though, and so two weeks after the operation, I am left with a small red scar that is fading slowly.  I can played the piano a yesterday . . . lots of weak muscles in a single hand.  I am typing with two hands right now, though, and am quite pleased with my efforts.

Better news, I got to give a talk last Sunday in Sacrament Meeting (one of my FAVORITE things to do) and I talked about the power of words.  I'll add a copy of the talk before I sign off tonight.   Time was short and so I cut my delivery to just 10 minutes--Brent tells me 12 minutes with my testimony at the end.  Pretty good.  I'm getting better at judging how much time it takes me to present.

WORDS HAVE POWER
 SACRAMENT MEETING TALK                                                             24 June 2012
                                                                       
Words have power, more than we can know
Words we say to others, land in the heart and grow.
By words, the earth created,  By words, the stars are paired
In words we hear eternity, by words our hearts are shared.

I would like to share with you my testimony of the power of words.

As I began to read the Book of Mormon this year, I added another key to look for.  Every time I read    w-o-r-d, I mark it.  My husband, Brent, has often pointed out that every project I undertake becomes a vehicle for language.  I paint the alphabet; I work for hours on cards to send and give; I have amassed literally thousands of pages of journal, essay, and poetry; one of my recent projects was a book made up of photos—each labeled with one word—trucks, cars, mom, dad, sister, trains, numbers and letters.  My one “real” paying job was teaching composition and literature to college students.

I am charmed by the magic of speech.  Odd sounds and discrete packets of vowels combine to make it possible for my son Nathan to tell a joke; for my grandson Jon to tell me “I wuv you, Gama Kaolin!  Tank you for ta red ca’!” when we Skype; for Brent to leave a message that it has been a really long day at work and he is really looking forward to coming home to me.

Words have power, more than we can know
Words we say to others, land in the heart and grow.
Will they bloom, sustaining life? or will they root and rot?
Will I be traitor-coward or be the hero sought.

Words have made all the difference in my life.   I remember a time when I was about 8 years old.  It was an early Saturday morning and I, my two younger sisters and two younger brothers had been assigned chores to do.  I happened to get the easy ones:  vacuum and dust the living room.  When I finished, I stayed in the living room and sat at the piano.  I began to practice my assigned songs with great vigor and volume.  About 5 minutes into this performance, my dad came in to the living room and sat down next to me on the piano bench.  He waited until I had finished the piece that I was playing and then put his arm around my shoulders.  “I’m glad that you have finished your work and are now practicing for your piano lesson, but the rest of us are still working.  Would you please come and help us so we can get the house clean faster?”

There was no acrimony; he didn’t yell from another room, “Why are you fooling around playing the piano!  Get in here so we can finish cleaning the house!”

My father’s kind words have stayed with, and become a part of me—a part that has bloomed.  Because of those words, I have tried to raise my children with the same respect and honour shown to me those 47 years ago.

Words have power to change lives.

Words have power, more than we can know
Words we say to others, land in the heart and grow.
Will they bloom, sustaining life? or will they root and rot?
Will I be traitor-coward or be the hero sought?

When I was in college, I took ballet lessons at BYU.  We met in an old church building, off campus with echoing halls and warm, wood floors.  Our teacher made us work hard, but one morning, with 15 minutes of class left, we begged her to let us try some “really fancy stuff.”  She agreed and showed us a passage that went across the room.  She started with simple jumps and turns.  We did our best to be her perfect shadows.  Then she asked each of us to do our own combination—to let everyone else see us dance.  I have an idea of what steps I did, for I had done this hundred of times before in empty gymnasiums and down long, quiet hallways.  I just let my heart loose and danced.  My moment was over.  Class ended.

As I was standing outside, waiting for the bus to take me back to campus, one of the other dancers stood beside me for a moment.  “You dance so beautifully.” she said.  “I love to watch you dance.”  All I could do was say thank you before she turned and walked down the street.

Those words, blossoming still in my soul, sustained me when I was morning sick, or too depressed to look at myself in the mirror, or 30 pounds overweight because of medicines I was taking, wire- thin from a sickness that no one could name.  No matter what I was at that point, I was, and always would be, a beautiful dancer.

Words have power, more than we can know
Words we say to others, land in the heart and grow.
Will they bloom, sustaining life? or will they root and rot?
Will I be traitor-coward or be the hero sought.

The words we use change those around us.  An angry Sunday School teacher once took a noisy student out of class and told him to “never come back.”  And he didn’t.  He married and had a family and they stayed away with him.  Forty years later his Bishop visited him and his family and listened to the man’s story.  Bishop Wirthlin apologized for those words.  He then did his best to convince the man that his apology was real.  Over time, wounds healed and the family returned, gaining the blessings of the Gospel in their home. (Elder Wirthlin, April 2005 General Conference)

Never come back.  Three words that could have kept a family from having so much more than they deserved.

Words have power, more than we can know
Words we say to others, land in the heart and grow.
By words, the earth created,  By words, the stars are paired
In words we hear eternity, by words our hearts are shared.

One of the most evocative events in the Book of Mormon happened when Alma the younger was converted to the Gospel.  As with Paul in the New Testament, it took divine intervention to help Alma the younger to repent.  He relates his conversion story to his own sons:

 6 . . . I went about with the sons of Mosiah, seeking to adestroy the church of God; but behold, God sent his holy angel to stop us by the way.
 7 And behold, he spake unto us, as it were the voice of thunder, . . . and we all fell to the earth, for the bfear of the Lord came upon us.
 8 But behold, the voice said unto me: Arise. And I arose and stood up, and beheld the angel.
 9 And he said unto me: If thou wilt of thyself be destroyed, seek no more to destroy the church of God.
 11 And the angel spake more things unto me, . . . , but I did anot hear them; for when I heard the words—If thou wilt be destroyed of thyself, seek no more to destroy the church of God—I was struck with such great fear . . . that I fell to the earth and I did hear no more.
 13 Yea, I did remember all my sins and iniquities, for which I was atormented with the bpains of hell; . . .
  15 Oh, thought I, that I acould be banished and become extinct both soul and body, that I might not be brought to stand in the presence of my God, to be judged of my bdeeds.
 16 And now, for three days and for three nights was I racked, even with the apains of a bdamned soul.
 17 And it came to pass that as I was thus aracked with torment, . . . behold, I dremembered also to have heard my father prophesy unto the people concerning the coming of one Jesus Christ, a Son of God, to atone for the sins of the world.
 18 Now, as my mind caught hold upon . . . [these words], I cried within my heart: O Jesus, thou Son of God, ahave mercy on me. . . .
 19 And now, behold, when I thought this, I could remember my apains bno more; . . . .
 20 And oh, what ajoy, and what marvelous light I did behold; yea, my soul was filled with joy as exceeding as was my pain!   Mosiah 36

Alma’s belief in the words of his father saved him, literally, from “the pains of a damned soul.”

Words have power, more than we can know
Words we say to others, land in the heart and grow.
By words, the earth created,  By words, the stars are paired
In words we hear eternity, by words our hearts are shared.

One of the most thought-provoking, joyous places on this Earth is the temple—where words help me learn better my relationship to Heavenly Father and how to become more like Him.  Brent and I were married in the temple 30 years ago.  Our words bound us to each other and to the Lord in an eternal family.  This promise has sustained us when we were just the two of us together in school, when we didn’t have enough money, when we didn’t have enough time, through job changes and moves to different homes, later, when my mother died, and each time I’ve been sick.

I am able to enter the temple—I am able to renew my covenants with the Lord—temples exist upon this earth–because of the words that a teenage Joseph Smith read in the Bible. 

Where Joseph and his family lived, there was “an unusual excitement on the subject of religion.(5)  “So great was the confusion and strife among the different denominations, that it was impossible” (7) for him to know who was wrong and who was right.  He read in the Bible, James 1:5
If any of you lack bwisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him. (11)
 He “reflected on it again and again, knowing that if any person needed bwisdom from God, I did; . . .
 13 At length [he] came to the conclusion that I must . . .  do as James directs, that is, ask of God. . . .
 14 So, . . . I retired to the awoods . . . . . It was the first time in my life that I had . . .  made the attempt to cpray dvocally.
 15 After I had retired to the place where I had previously designed to go, . . I kneeled down and began to offer up the desires of my heart to God. I had scarcely done so, when immediately I was aseized upon by some power which entirely overcame me, and had such an astonishing influence over me as to bind my tongue . . .  it seemed to me . . . as if I were doomed to sudden destruction.
 16 But, exerting all my powers to acall upon God to deliver me out of the power of this enemy . . . , and at the very moment when I was ready to sink into bdespair . . .I saw a pillar of clight exactly over my head, above the brightness of the dsun, which descended gradually until it fell upon me.
 17 It no sooner appeared than I found myself adelivered from the enemy which held me bound. When the light rested upon me I bsaw two cPersonages, whose brightness and dglory defy all description, estanding above me in the air. One of them spake unto me, calling me by name and said, pointing to the other—This is My fBeloved gSon. Hear Him!
I worship God, and revere Joseph Smith as a prophet who restored the full Church of Jesus Christ to the earth.  Guided by the words of James, he heard the voice of our Heavenly Father and listened to the words spoken by Jesus Christ.

Words can change history.
Words can change eternity.

Words have power, more than we can know
Words we say to others, land in the heart and grow.
By words, the earth created,  By words, the stars are paired
In words we hear eternity, by words our hearts are shared.









Saturday, May 26, 2012

My Lego Necklace


For the first time in years, I am wearing something that Nathan made for me.  Lego "track" with jewels set in . . . very chic.




I took the picture with my Mac built-in camera while I was talking to Megan on the phone. Not a great photo, but you get the idea.

Now, the essay:


While I was checking messages, I accidentally erased a voice mail from my phone.  I had the feeling, though, that it had come from the President of the Stake Primary.  I had been in Maryland visiting family all week.  When I got home, I asked Brent if she had been released as Primary president.  He told me that there had been talk of it in Stake Presidency meetings, but he didn't know if there had been anything done yet.

For the last few years, I have served as her 2nd Counselor.  I know that I will miss working with her.   In an email, I told her that I couldn’t “express adequately the joy that I have felt as I learned from you and got to know you better.”  She is an incredible woman.  

I drive Nathan to the airport tomorrow so that he can help his sister in Provo finish emptying her apartment and then he'll drive with her back to Florida.  She and her husband agreed to divorce just a few weeks ago--there are things going on inside her that she couldn't or didn't know how to share with me (or anyone)--I'm sure I'll never understand the full extent of all that she has put herself through during the last 6 years that she was married.
  
Anyway--so changes are whirling about in my head and heart.  Nathan will be transferring to BYU in August to finish his B.S. in Biology.  Lauren will be here (along with a very big dog--sigh) and our family dynamic will turn to a different shape.  

I was looking at my Facebook profile.  It is pretty empty.  I found an entry on-line about a friend who served in the same mission that I did--we were in the MTC at the same time.  He has just been called as a Mission President.  

I am dreaming away my life in a paradise with only my inner demons to duel. My children are ready for me to have a life of my own--Megan will look back on all the 10s of thousands of pictures I've taken of her two children and wonder if I actually did anything other than catalogue pictures taken of her family and wander from WalMart to Target looking for clothes and toys to send to her, her husband and her children.  (In all fairness, I also search for clothes and toys for Brent and Nathan and Lauren.)

Meg's husband is in Turkey for two weeks delivering a paper dealing with computational linguistics and language acquisition.  Brent has been back and forth to DC, working with legislators and lobbyists on a bill that will play havoc with the monetary system.  Meg, La and Nate are all dealing with decisions that will affect their eternities--marriage, children, and education.  

My greatest pleasure lately has been wandering around my gardens and singing aloud to the sky.  I have been given so much--


Anyway, this has turned into an essay on my personal philosophy . . . and on how much I am not looking forward to finding myself in a life that leaves too much to be desired..  

The woman, who has been the Stake Primary President, is seeing changes--her daughters married and grandchildren for her in the near future.  She is an anesthesiologist RN—a career that has been spent doing something that has been vital to my own body's ability to function.  It was a good opportunity to watch someone dedicated to helping others live the Gospel more fully.  

Nathan just presented me with a necklace made of Legos.  It is a good reminder of the good things I have done in my past.

Saturday, March 24, 2012

Even Brent Likes Them


Baby Squirrels' Visit

Since Nathan has begun volunteering at Busch Wildlife Refuge in Jupiter, FL, we have been able to take some of the babies home overnight for dinners and breakfasts. When Brent heard that squirrels were going to be staying with us--he was NOT thrilled. When we lived in Kansas City, MO, we had a home with a very old wooden roof. I went wild putting out seed and nuts for the wild birds--for the AMAZING wild birds--that passed through our area migrating to and from the North and South. As a result, I also attracted an excessive number of squirrels. There was plenty of food . . . but not enough trees to house all of them. They began to chew their way into any of the chinks existing in our roof. As a result, I had to climb up into the far corners of our attic and spray in that expanding-before-hardening yellow foam.

As a result, Brent is not crazy about squirrels . . . and I have learned to be discriminating in the squirrel or two to whom I choose to offer the odd peanut. My favorite for two years was a little female with a genetic quirk--her tail was only about two inches long. It looked like a puffed up pom-pom. After raising two litters, she has quietly departed the area--and probably the Earth.

After the first evening, Brent took to ferrying each squirrel back into the warming container after it was full of formula. One even fell asleep in his hands. Amazing what the love of a good man does when it is extended beyond its normal boundaries.

The smallest one is my favorite.

Snuggled together after being fed.

Lots more has been happening, too. But this is a good start to regaining my habit of writing.
Good night.

Monday, December 26, 2011

Red-shouldered Hawk on the Fence and a Bicycle

Day After Christmas Presents
Crane in my driveway enjoying lunch.
Red-shouldered Hawk just a block away.
It has been a very long time since I let myself take time and write about everything. Of course, everything would take a great number of centuries to document, so I will skip all of the weeks that I have missed and just write about today.
It is the day after Christmas. It is Monday. Brent and Nathan went to canoe on Peace River and look for fossils. Brent is, at this moment, on the internet identifying a Pleistocene hind deer leg bone. "Well, that was easy!" (direct quote). Nathan spent much of the day feeling frustrated since there were quite a few other groups also looking for fossils in the same bend of the river. Someone would yell "Hey! I found a megladon tooth!" "Hey! I did, too!" and Nathan would groan "Augh! I'm not finding anything." just loud enough for Brent to hear. They both came home with a large bag of odd-shaped black 'rocks'. Brent had a great time looking for fossils and using his new (used, but new to us) aluminum canoe. Nathan had a good time being with Brent and splashing about in the water and mud. He is 22 and a college Junior, but still, at heart, he is the boy who used to scout around each new house we moved into until he could announce "This is my mud spot! No one else can play in this mud." Actually, I think he is in his room right now, surrounded by tubs full of Legos--which, of course, no one else can play in.
Hibiscus acetosella full bloom that I planted from wild seed.
I worked on my Hibiscus acetosella project. It has been a wonderfully fun hobby this semester. Now, though, I am late in getting a finished project ready to submit to my horticulture professor. It is an independent study--under the guise of auditing one of his Botany classes--so I con't really even have to turn anything in. My pride pricks at me, though, having promised something solid and not yet possessing a finished product to turn in.
Wild Hibiscus acetosella--two blocks away.
After a few hours of that, I had to get outside. I took my bike and pedaled slowly around the neighborhood. I passed a huge bush with glossy, deep green leaves and some really cool coral red flowers. I didn't recognize it--so I will go back later and take pictures of it so that I can do what Brent does--he with dead bones, me with Florida fauna.
The most memorable part of my day was the chance to photograph a Red Shouldered hawk who was sitting on a chain-link fence at the side of the road. He watched me ride by. I watched him as I rode by. Then I rode home and got my camera. By the time that I had cycled back, the hawk was still waiting.
The hawk and I see each other--I am impressed by him; he pretty much ignores me.
At the end of the day, this is what I see before I go back inside for the night.
Of course I put my bike back into the garage, take the camera out of the basket and bring it in to get the photographs off of the memory card and into my computer. Also, the red Jeep is in the driveway as soon as Brent and Nate get home from Peace River. The canoe comes off the Jeep, Brent and Nathan come inside for dinner, and . . . well, I don't know exactly where the crane goes for the night. I know that she'll be back tomorrow. And tomorrow I can begin to work on the huge pile of laundry that Nate and Brent brought back with them from their trip.

Monday, November 21, 2011

Pneumonia


This is a picture of me being sick with pneumonia. After days and days of pills and laying around just hurting, not being able to sleep, I still feel gross. I wanted to write something, since I've done VERY little since I got home from MD.

I spent 5 wonderful days with Megan and her family. All of us but Anton came down with wicked head colds. I got on the plane with a mucky head and the change of pressure must have forced the stuff into the far reaches of my head and chest. "Just a touch of pneumonia in the left lung," the doctor at the drop-in clinic told me. With sprays for my lungs and head and pills for my lungs and head I came home. I am not impressed with my body at this point.

I am impressed with Nathan, however, who has ponied up handsomely. He has fetched and carried for me. I am so glad to have had him here with me. He is good at spoiling sick people.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

September 14 Post is Now Out of Editing and Up to View

The Family That Made My Life Today Possible: My Husband Brent's Family

Brent's family: (top row) Penny, Russ, Brent
(middle row) Dad Dallan, Matt, Kathy
(front row) Mikie, Mom Libby

Everyone now is married--Penny is living in Utah and often spends time with my daughter Lauren. Russ is living outside of Salt Lake City, (renting a huge, gorgeous home that the owner cannot sell) where he has just taken a new job. Brent is the most incredible person--and he is mine--and I am his. Kathy lives in Colorado and is taking care of her grandchild--with the help of her two beautiful and talented daughters--Karissa and Kara. Dallan and Libby are also in Colorado--as is Mike and his family.

I love seeing photographs like this one in geneology family trees. So often all I view are photos taken of mother and fathers and sisters and lovers when they were grown and much used by life. In these tender years, the eyes are clearer and the seed of the lives they will live and will change around them have just begun to take root and begin to reach for sun and rain.