I was up most of Monday night, sparring with some nasty intestinal bug. It hasn't given up the fight and I'm not ready to take up the sword again, so I am curled up in this quiet house, trying to accomplish productive things with my mind. High expectations, I know, and not likely, but for catching up my journaling, it may be a blessing in disguise.
I have been reveling in the after conference aura, wishing it was ever long enough to be one of those rare experiences where you reach spiritual exhaustion Trek, Academy, some long Sundays of YW meetings have each provided those wearied, but uplifting contentments, where you just can't take in any more and you are momentarily, spiritually content. Each conference I long for my spirit to hit overload--to have that same feeling that you get when you've put in a full day of manual labor and you sink happy and overwhelmingly weary into bed. But with me still eager, it is over before I am ever ready. I know it used to be longer. I wish it still felt as ongoing as it used to in my childhood days. I guess it's not meant to make us "content"; it's meant to make us driven. Even so, the present trumps the past. This morning, with the click of my fingers, I could start it all over again. At least today, technology is a gift.
Friday, Fred and I leave to gather my optimistically adventurous boy and my deeply quiet hearted girl into our arms and bring them home for good! Well...it's a transitory good, but will actually only be for 3 weeks and then Mikayla leaves for her mission in Colorado and Jordan flies to work in New Jersey. They will be brief and precious moments. The younger children will still be in school when they come and when they go, so for them the moments will seem even more fleeting. It's a varied time of life with children on so many different stages and me running to and fro between the wings and the auditorium, trying to get used to the fact that it isn't my role to be always "blocking", never quite sure if I'm supposed to be directing, acting, sitting in the audience or the temporary makeup artist. I love my children. I love mothering them. As they grow older I feel like I should be nurturing them differently, but somehow, even at 22 and 19 I often see a small, tow-headed boy, and ruby lipped little girl and my heart slips between rocking and cooing, to bracing and chalk talk. At times it must be frustrating for them, but I usually just see tender eyes and understanding. Home will feel different without them popping back and forth on so many weekends.
It is still a journey, but Eden is finally starting to fill out her lead spot in the children's line-up. The younger three are beginning to gravitate towards her energy and enthusiasm, though her presence, fully engaged, is still a transient thing. We are in constant competition with the bathtub's running stream, the clamoring of friends, and the quiet hum of text messages going in and out, but the moment's when she chooses family connection are like ringing in a new year--noise poppers, celebration and fireworks. It's loud, it's festive and it can be awe inspiring. How is it that this feisty, miniature, bundle of joy can have almost reached the age of Senior pictures and college planning? I'm sure she was just 12 a couple of years ago. I can't even imagine life without her flourishes and swaths of emotional color, streaming out behind her wherever she goes. She has been the spark to so much of my positive and personal, fiery furnaces. She has motivated me to dig deeper, to study harder, to find compassion--in short to YIELD to the whisperings of the Spirit She has motivated me to GROW. Heavenly Father knew what he was doing when he sent her to me--He always does.
A few days ago Abrahm signed up to remove pruned branches from a long ditch bank for a ward member offering the job to any boy wanting to earn money for scout camp. We rarely send our boys, because it is so ridiculously expensive, but we have some highly motivated leaders who are helping to make it alluring to the boys and possible for the parents. Two young men signed up, but the man wanted the job done before it rained and couldn't get a hold of the other boy. I want my children to learn to do hard work. I enjoy it, but have an aversion to doing it alone and so I told him I'd go with him. I assured him that my work would be donated. I'm not sure if he felt bad about me doing "his" work or if it's not cool to show up at a job with your Mom, or a little bit of both, but he was a little hesitant. However, he's not easily embarrassed and I'm not easily swayed and so he agreed with the plan. Of course then I had to decide what to do with Lily and Sophie. I told them I'd have to take them along, but they weren't required to work if they didn't want to, as our labor would be volunteer. They came and they worked like champions. All three of them did--for two straight hours. Dad would have been proud! In fact, the job was for Bro. and Sis. Miner (Sally Murry's parents). He's 83 and was out there with his tractor the entire time, she in her garden bed. It would have taken them longer, but I have no doubt, even with a bad back and arthritis that he (and especially she) could and would have done the work themselves, if a young man didn't need a job and they were't so very generous. It felt rewarding to work alongside my "farm kids" and to get better acquainted with ward members. I hope at 83 that I'll have a tractor and will still be working the land! =)
Another treat this week was the opportunity to take care of one of my Sunbeams and her little brother while her mother was out of town for a wedding and her Dad was teaching seminary. Abe also happened to have school off that day and it was warming to watch him with these tiny, charming people. It reminded me of Joseph when my oldest kids were just little. Keturah is 3. Her younger brother is probably not quite 2. The morning didn't start out optimally because I turned on the vacuum first thing and Grayson was terrified. We have never met, but he was in my arms and clinging to my neck so fast that we formed an immediate bond--literally. He wanted held for the next 45 minutes and kept calling me Mom. His mother had been gone for a few days and I could tell that he was missing her enormously. Abe finally got him interested in some toys so that I could do my housework and Keturah followed me continuously, talking non-stop. Every sentence (and she was here for over 7 hours) she began with "Teacher" for the first two hours and then suddenly changed to "Sister Bloomquist". She didn't start most sentences that way--EVERY sentence. It grabbed my heartstrings so tightly I couldn't stop smiling all day. Abe stopped counting, but assured the rest of the family that her addresses to me were in the high hundreds. He was their indentured servant (as most sweet boys of his age usually become to little children) and I got to spend the day taking turns rocking them in the hammock and reading to them and watching Abe swing them and dig in the sand for them and put them on and off and on and off the trampoline while I took pictures. It feels like eternity since I was the mom of toddlers and I LOVED every minute of it. I wouldn't feel that way about watching every toddler for seven hours, but she is mine and they both were angelic. My heart gets all mushy when I even think of being a Grandma. Last night our family went to a Middleton Unplugged event (yes, it's here again) and I turned around in the huge group of people and saw a fragile, little thing staring at me through the crowd. I opened my arms up wide and she came, a little warily through the masses, but bright eyed. I finally returned her to her parents and as my family got ready to leave and walked across the school gym and out the doors, I turned--and then we all did--to see my little Keturah Sunbeam still staring after us. Every person in the church should be so blessed, just once, to have this calling.
This week I had two different Sunbeam birthdays. I visited Isaac on Monday. He was so excited about his tiny gift and our visit that when his Mother prompted him with, "What do you say?" He yelled, Happy Birthday!" and ran out the back door to show his siblings. I could hear him yelling to them as I walked back home. Maybe I will learn some of that wide, eyed optimism just rubbing shoulders with these little examples. On Friday I showed up at Kinsley's house. She's my shy little girl. She came up behind her mother at the door, sparkles in her eyes, twirling a new umbrella and wearing a princess dress. She took her Sunshine cookie from my hands and pinched it right in half, she was holding on so tight. And as I walked back to my car I heard a tiny thank-you from behind the door.
I also ran into a Sunbeam at the library and at the grocery store. Both times I waved and I could hear him shouting to his mother, "I saw my teacher!" They don't care who you are or what you look like or how much you know, if you love them, and they can tell, that word "Teacher" comes close after "Mother" in importance in their eyes. I've watched that loyalty and love with my own children and teachers who love them. Melt my heart.
I ran across this quote the other day. It's an Irish blessing perfect for my season of life: "May God grant you always...A sunbeam to warm you, a moonbeam to charm you, a sheltering Angel so nothing can harm you. Laughter to cheer you. Faithful friends near you. And whenever you pray, Heaven to hear you."
My back lawn needs mowed--it's looking like bright green, meadow grass--but the allurement of the bright skies can't compete with my aversion to strong, cold winds and so I look out at it rippling and waving day after day. Soon, I know, the stars are going to align again and beckon me outdoors, but not today. Today, I'm just trying to convince myself that walking up my short flight of stairs to take a shower, is going to be worth the effort. =)
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| Pre-Easter Cupcakes |
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| Easter Picnic |
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| Fun with Keturah and Grayson |
