The Bowler

I headed to the shed this morning for a couple of bins for school.  As I walked into the maze of everyone’s crap, I mean stuff, I saw from the corner of my eye, a most prized possession.  I was honored back in May of 2013 with the Mother of the Year award.  I understand that many women have received such notorious awards but I highly doubt anyone ever got a bowling trophy that already had a prior recipient.  The personalized taped paper attached to the front was a nice touch by Dillon and Lane.  I had a great laugh back then and I did appreciate their sweet attempt at gift giving.   I, like many mothers, feel awkward and inadequate at this time of the year as Mother’s Day soon approaches.  We never really feel as though we have done enough and base our grade on how well the kids turned out.  Being a mother is the hardest job I have had – with many extreme highs and many  disappointing lows. So the question is why I keep hanging on to that trophy.  I think I do because when I am honored it is like my children are telling me to hang on and keep at it., kind of like a cheer, or a pep-talk.  Maybe I am running the greatest marathon ever and they are on the sidelines buoying me for victory.  I am not perfect at being a mother and that is the truth.  I won’t give up though.  I want my children to know that I will fight for them, encourage them, rejoice with them and suffer life’s problems with them.  I’ll take the accolades, the trophies and the gifts.  I need all the love and encouragement because we still have a long, long road together and I always want to be standing right beside them.  I’m spring cleaning this weekend and questioned if I have held on to it long enough.    Heck no.  I earned that bowling trophy.

The Welcome Wagon

Many years ago, actually I believe it was when we moved from Richmond, British Columbia to Vancouver, British Columbia.  I remember my mother had a lady come to our home.  She was with “The Welcome Wagon”.  This very nice lady had a small booklet/pamphlet if I remember correctly that had loads of information about the new area in which we lived.  She also brought a few extra goodies too and I think some coupons.   The information had everything we needed to know, like dentists, churches, schools etc.  I have never forgotten that small organization and occasionally feel like I am part of “The Welcome Wagon” especially when I was Relief Society President.  So what brings this up?  Lastnight we flew home from Phoenix to Anchorage and we were welcomed once again by none other than “The Welcome Wagon.”  How you ask?  By the looks of my pictures you can tell that we had the most beautiful, welcoming gift of rigorous Alaskan terrain a person could ever ask for.  Any person on that plane that was a guest now had a wealth of information of how and why we live here by one look out their window.  The sunset was calming, salsa red and surreal, the mountains were rugged, jagged snowy white and the wings of the plane reflected a shiny glow of invitation.   I was received back to my homeland with the warmest of all welcomes.  “The Welcome Wagon” rolls on.

 

The Builders

Peter, Paul and Mary sang,  “Where have all the flowers gone?”  My rendition is “Where have all the benches gone?”  Two years ago we transformed an airplane hangar into a beautiful wedding reception for Micah and David.  One of our requests were benches for the seating.  Mike, Dillon, Devin, Herbie and Jeff Laurey met that expectation by building thirty-four benches without backs and four with backs all on one Saturday.  One might ask, what does one do with thirty-eight benches when the “2012 event of the year” is over?  I am here to report the following:  all the benches were used for seating for the Statewide Young Men’s Encampment that June.  Anything to help out Clay Dahl and Dr. Boston.  Two benches are in a restaurant in Wasilla as people wait to order their food.  Two benches surround a  flower garden memoriam to Virginia Victors at her home.  Two benches surround our fire pit for warm summer bonfires.  Two benches seat the children at Big Lake Elementary school as they enter the school and exit at day’s end.  Four benches are painted red, green, yellow and blue and they seated the eating tables in Room 7 last year.  They still adorn the classroom as seating for putting gear on.  Two benches are used for children to warm up from recess.  They are allowed five minutes on the bench and then they have to return outside. Two benches helped friends soak up the sun on their lakeside deck.  Four benches made a lady squeal with delight because they were exactly what she was looking for.  A few benches went to a family that stopped off after a day of fishing and they seemed to think the benches would suit them just fine.  A few benches still reside at our home.  One in particular, is signed by loved ones and friends with thoughts and well wishes for the newlyweds.  I get the feeling everyone is enjoying the benches and feeling the love and cherishing the memories as much as we did that great day.  So, quit worrying about where all the benches went – it’s all good!

The Trees

Today we witnessed our niece, Kaitlyn sealed to her husband David in the Gilbert, Arizona temple.  Most people do not understand the significance of a sealing but we do.  It was beautiful as was the temple.  Micah explained to us about the agave plant which is embedded in many parts of the temple.  Its beauty is seen in the stained glass which is the background for the real agave plants that are growing on the lush, landscaped gardens.  After the sealing and the pictures we left for a three hour hiatus before the reception.  We swung into In and Out and I was very amused and intrigued at the trees.  Two trees going in opposite directions.  Certainly not how a new marriage needs to begin.  If two people do not have the same goals and are heading the same way it just make not work.   We have many friends right now whose lives have fallen apart and divorce is eminent.  We desire to keep our eyes on the temple.  We desire to have our goals in line and streamlined.  We desire to live our lives that we can enter the Lord’s house at all times.  All the best to the trees.  I’m not sure you are going to make it.

GG

Coming to Arizona evokes feelings about the elderly.  Each event we have gone to I have witnessed their struggles, their determination and their love.  We went to In~n~Out and the couple next to us ate while each read their own book.  They would stop to talk and continue on reading.  At the airport we witnessed couples coming off the plane hand in hand.  It was a rare sight indeed, but very heartwarming.  I laid in the sun at the pool and listened as three couples shared their stories of medicine, medical tests and diagnoses.  They delighted me with their conversations but it was sad as well.  As age increases, the body decreases.   I admire more than anyone my mother-in-law Mary Jo.  She is always our pool companion, our game player, our late night talker and our fudge maker.  This trip however, she is a little laid up. She had knee surgery and her battle continues on.   We feel her pain and discomfort and wish she were “Grandma” as usual but she can’t be.  She brings life into our lives and our grandchildren keep her close in their hearts.  She is GG to her great-grandchildren.  I find my love for the elderly has increased more, and yes I am picking up a few more meds each year too.  Blaze, enjoy your great-grandma (GG) because she will be dear to your heart.

The Gold

We waited for the ticket agent to call for Gold Members.  Mike was listening, but I wasn’t.  You see I am not of such a status.  He ranks higher among the fliers of the world than me.  He told me to follow him, but in a weak, feeble, humble voice I questioned if I could?  Could his ranking allow the weaker, the lesser to hang onto his coat tails?  This time yes.  Getting on a plane is one thing but making it through life and facing our Maker is another.  We all want that Gold celestial status.  It is just me that gets me there. Eliza R. Snow, an author and poetess that I just love poignantly wrote, “I will go forward . . . I will smile at the rage of the tempest, and ride fearlessly and triumphantly across the boisterous ocean of circumstance. . . And the ‘testimony of Jesus’ will light up a lamp that will guide my vision through the portals of immortality, and communicate to my understanding the glories of the Celestial kingdom.”  I really am on my own path to get to the gold.  I assure you I follow an adage from an old friend, “I wish to reach the mountain peak but sometimes the way is unsure.  How glad I am to know that my Father waits at the castle door and when I look up for directions, He calls down, climb more.”  I truly am going for the gold.

Welcome, Michael
Member Name: MICHAEL A STYERS MVP Gold
Mileage Plan Number: 18067626
Available Miles: 9,366

TP

We had a great flight from Anchorage to Phoenix and surprisingly ran into old friends who actually ended up sitting next to me.  What are the odds??  We landed and of course I felt the Arizona 86 degrees permeate throughout my body and I wasn’t even off the plane yet.  We departed, used the restroom and then it came.  The nosebleed.  My family knows that I am prone to these disturbances quite often so out I came with a mini wad of toilet paper.  As we got to baggage, I stopped for more toilet paper.  I was a sight.  We got our bags and I noticed my toilet paper stash was low.  We walked out to the Car Rental Shuttle and we boarded the bus.  I was a sight still.  I must have had a panicked look on my face wondering where or how a roll of toilet paper would miraculously appear.  Right then and there, an angel got his wings and he was wearing a Simms jacket.  He handed me the largest stack of soft perfect kleenex.  I was a sight all the way until we rented our car.  God bless the good people in this world and I’m kind of thinking I may have earned my wings too.

This pic was me checking out my eyes for “pink eye” on the plane.

Paws

Some days are just days.  I’m not sure why they start the way they do but I am sure happy they end the way they do.  As I was hurrying to get to work I turned off the hallway light and saw Tank resting his paws on the bottom stair.  Quite an odd thing for him to do.  A thought scurried through my mind as I stood contemplating his move, hope this day isn’t going to be strange.  After all, it is our anniversary.  Not expecting anything of course because each time I sit in my little MC I am so grateful not only for my car, but for the man I married thirty-two years ago.  He is kind and giving and I really couldn’t imagine being married to anyone else.  He puts up with me, he keeps me electronically up to speed and I am sure he will feed Suki when I am gone for a long stretch this summer.  I hope he does.  I sure do love him.  Changing gears now.  When you work in a special ed room each day brings new challenges and frustrations.  We had four children with ‘pink eye” this week.  Keep in mind, I board a plane early in the morning for Arizona.  If my selfie has me wearing sunglasses.  I got it.  We have a special olympics field trip tomorrow which I am going to miss but we were looking for our t-shirts when we found mice remnants in the corner of our room.  I dutifully cleaned and straightened while Mike R. (he looks somewhat like Tom Selleck so I call him Jessie Stone), took the kids out for recess.  Then came the odor.  I am sorry for the bluntness but when there is a poop smell – my radar is finely tuned.  We narrowed down the perpetrator immediately and tried to end our day with freshness but that never happened.  He had an issue.  I scurried off to the store and then to my presidency meeting.  Pink eye, mice and poop were all in the past.  We now spent a few hours sharing our ideas, our love and our concern for the most incredible group of Young Women any presidency could ask for.  I scurried home to pack.  Now, as I blog, I am so grateful for this great life, my wonderful husband, children and grandchildren,  a fulfilling job and even Tank.  Just not sure about the paw thing though.

 

Ugh!

I felt like Blaze today, in a rut and couldn’t get out.  I was getting ready for work and noticed Rhea had a pile of green balls piled up by her cereal bowl.  She informed me they were awful tasting and reminded me that I shouldn’t have bought so many boxes because they were on sale.  Ugh  Missed my first wave from a fellow Mini-Cooperite on Big Lake Road.  Ugh.   Got to work and realized I had left my work bag at home.  Ugh.  Had a request from a person to be my friend on Facebook and because I felt it good etiquette and genuine niceness I accepted and five minutes upon perusal of her post I regretted all gestures of kindness and wished I were meaner.  Ugh.  Had a message from Peggy, the teacher in our room, that she would be out all week.  We leave for Arizona on Wednesday.  Too many subs in our room for my coworker Mike.  I feel horrible.    Ugh.   Drove Rhea to Palmer to get her state ID and missed the Palmer exit and had to cruise another eight miles until I could turn around.  We were in a crunch to get there on time.  Ugh.  Drove up the driveway and saw a huge piece of plywood with spray painted graffiti, stuff left over from Dillon’s garage.  No more junk.  Ugh.  And so Blaze, Mom got you out of  your predicament and Elizabeth Taylor summed up my day for me with some great advice.  “Pour yourself a drink, (diet Pepsi), put on some lipstick, and pull yourself together.”   Aaahhhh  Feeling better.

Tradition!!!

Visualize me sitting on our roof with a fiddle in hand singing the popular song “Tradition” from the incredible production of  Fiddler on the Roof. In the Broadway show Teyve is explaining the traditional roles of people.  He, so passionately wants traditions to be kept the same in the ever changing world.  Right on Teyve.  Three thousand miles away in a basement apartment in Rexburg, Idaho traditions have been solidified and carried forth.  As my pan of funeral potatoes are ready to go in the oven, Kyla’s pan of funeral potatoes have just come out.  My strawberry jello with bananas and strawberries is chilling.  Micah’s is doing the same.  I wouldn’t say I have Teyve’s spiritedness about keeping traditions alive but my heart is warmed each time I know my girls are following in their mom’s ways.  Ham, funeral potatoes, jello, rolls and Sister Bramhall’s dessert are moving on down the line for many generations to come.   These type of traditions, however small they are, cement us together as a family.  I am sure the girls are following the admonition of Paul to the Thessaalonians when he said, “Therefore . . . stand fast, and hold the traditions which ye have been taught.”  Paul may not have been talking funeral potatoes but we sure get his point.    Bon appetit girls.