"The family. We were a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another's desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms, inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending, and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together." (Erma Bombeck)
“To forget one's ancestors is to be a brook without a source, a tree without root.” (Chinese proverb)
"The sacred is in the ordinary."
“To forget one's ancestors is to be a brook without a source, a tree without root.” (Chinese proverb)
"The sacred is in the ordinary."
Ah yes, here I am: jumping on the blogging bandwagon in some vain hope that you will each remember me and your upbringing for some good things we've done together rather than merely dwell on the perhaps not-so-cool impatient out-of-shape, losing-my-hair-and-my-teeth (what a vision I'm creating, eh?!) old fat fart I am today. No, this blog isn't intended as Carol's pity party or a blow-my-own-horn production. It's merely an effort toward purging myself of the many thoughts swirling through my head which I've frequently wanted to express to my daughters, yet which I've avoided, neglected, or have been unable to express in actual face time (oops. run-on sentence). It is also hoped that you will sift through your early lifetime and find some gems of your own upbringing such that you employ them with your own families. I also hope that you can enjoy reading this blog as much as I have enjoyed writing it, and that these memories will be ones that you each sweetly savor. Treasure them, for they are the foundation upon which your current and future lives are built.
The Food Bank and soup kitchen are now consuming so much of my time that it's become a full-time job. That's a good thing for someone who requires distraction from the glaring reality that I am no longer the center of your universes. Yes change and reality sucks sometimes. I'm having to redefine the parameters of my happiness and am grateful that service beyond my home is becoming a greater part of it. Yet, at the original time of this writing (2011), I realize that I have precious little time left to spend with my two remaining daughters. Yet, how could I say "not now" to a Heavenly Father who had already marked out this charity path (the food bank) for your mother to readily pursue? Alas, 'seeking balance' and 'finding time' for other weightier family matters (i.e. my wonderful family) will be my byword as I extend my learning curve into 2012 and beyond. The sentiments in this blog are my own. Although your father probably shares many of them, I shall only speak for myself (perhaps I can get dad started on his own blog!) :)
As an older mother, I had the benefit of having a decade of contemplation behind me as to the sort of home I hoped to create and the type of mother I knew God wanted me to become. I wanted to provide you with a comforting, safe, happy and dare I say, near-perfect home and childhood. I wanted you to think and be comfortable in your own heads rather than rely on technology or others' thoughts, to fill them. Perhaps I was most influential in your younger years. Yet motherhood taught me where I fit in in the grand scheme of things. It was a perfect fit. Student, secretary, waitress, missionary, radio station employee, magazine editor, school teacher. These professions are nothing compared to my role as your mother. Prayerfully plodding through my map of mothering experiences, I endeavored to be as conscientious and divinely guided as was humanly possible for "a soul so rebellious and proud as mine" (lyrics from the hymn: I Stand All Amazed).
You're all very independent now, productively evolving away from the nest, as is part of the Plan, and that's a good thing. Yet the irony is that no such evolution occurs for mothers. We do not evolve away from our children. Despite your changes of drawing further away from home, a mother's need for, and focus on, her children never changes. Like all mothers, the present and future give us little say in the matter of how much our maturing departing children remain a part of our lives.
Each phase of your lives brought me new challenges and forced me to scramble and unconsciously reinvent myself to suit those ever-changing needs of yours. For at least 18 years, I focused, with lazer-like attention and energy, to your every need, until such time (in your young adulthood) as you felt that such attention is no longer warranted. When you were young, it paid off to be a super-focused mother, yet once you were older you labeled my focus as "too intense." haha. That was an understatement. In your younger years, you clung to my apron strings. In your adolescent years I was more of a nuisance to you. I remember being asked by you to depart when your friends were around because you were tired of the fact that I was around all the time --- as your YW president, your Primary president, your Achievement Days leader, your PTA president, your substitute, your seminary teacher. I did sympathize with that dilemma. But for the record, I never did, nor ever will, tire of you. As you can see, Motherhood is not for the faint of heart!
Though very imperfect, dad I did our level and prayerful best as your parents. In what way, you might ask? In ways you were (and maybe still are) likely unaware of: I knew to never spank you; taught you all to read before kindergarten practically providing more books for you than the public library; employed the gospel fully in every corner of our home (songs, books, lessons, chats, at home, in the car, camping, etc.): frequent personal and family prayer each time we left the house, FHE, took advantage of your life's gospel teaching moments and chats; facilitated growth opportunities for you when you were younger such as sports, music lessons, drama (dad facilitated the church plays for you guys); provided fun home school opportunities/field trips to coincide with your public education; went to your games, plays, awards, performances; constantly worked in your classrooms or at your schools and involved myself in your PTAs; provided maximum at-home enrichment for you via books, learning toys, arts & craft supplies, clay, paints, etc. etc. etc. (remember the days before technology became pre-eminent?!); limited TV watching in order to encourage your imaginations to fly; always readied clothes and lunches and breakfasts for you before you scurried off to school (even during seminary) -- with an occasional note tucked into your lunchbox; taught you all about the importance of individual prayers as well as family prayers; facilitated occasional 'mental health days' from school so we could go have lunch or for you to just rest your weary minds from your hard work at school; started working so that we could make ends meet and provide you with all the bells and whistles you needed; always taught the importance of attending church and encouraged your involvement in church activities (this wasn't usually negotiable); made sure we almost always ate together at the dinner table; taught you the value of honesty such that your teachers and classmates always admired that quality in you all; encouraged success and discouraged mediocrity; taught and praised your modesty so you were confident with it; encouraged your pursuit of any interests; introduced you to all kinds of music and nurtured your musical interests (lessons, band, etc.); remained vocal against any injustices aimed at you (yes, I was your fierce mama bear); taught you to not care about what people think (within reason); hopefully taught you to believe you could do anything you set your mind to; made camping and hiking as fun (and organized) as possible; took you swimming, bike riding, etc.; tried to keep our home presentable so that you would be comfortable in inviting friends over and not be embarrassed by it; taught you to love all people, despite their color, religion, or 'different' attitudes and behavior; taught you to always use good manners; tried to keep our home free of any bad influences by minimizing t.v., bad language (remember how we couldn't say "hate" or "fat"?), inappropriate dialogue (until, of course, you attended PHS, where you were unduly exposed to icky things); made God paramount in our lives; morning devotionals over breakfast using age-appropriate picture scripture books, reading scriptures as a family (thanks to Aubrey's reminders); drove you to seminary till you could drive yourselves; used gospel-based entertainment a lot (Veggie Tales, primary song tapes, religious books, etc.); always brought age-appropriate gospel activities to keep you occupied during sacrament meeting (i.e. gospel coloring books and flannel board stories); opted out of carpooling (which would've been very convenient for me) or bussing to school because you didn't feel comfortable with it; tried to stay involved in your education so that I could intervene if necessary (i.e. one of your teachers would throw away your homework until I asked her not to ... so I collected it! :)); a daily kiss and a hug (also not negotiable :); successfully (for the most part) tried my best to avoid some tendencies which were engrained in me since my youth (i.e. spanking, listening to hard rock music; inappropriate language) while you were growing up so as to create the most conducive spiritual home environment and example for you (yeah, I weakened as you grew older :); raised you all in a not-too-strict but not-too-lenient home that was a lingually clean, spiritually thoughtful, appropriately entertaining environment until you were all old enough to manage what you saw and heard and make your own wise choices (and call me to repentance when I was making bad choices myself! haha). So yeah, I tried my best. And having been raised in a home where all of these things were largely absent ... and in seeing the types of women you've become ... I'd say that, despite my many shortcomings, you all turned out pretty well. I can't take all the credit because ours was a triangle of parenting: me, your father, and your Heavenly Father. I hope that time won't dim these long ago memories of me/us and that, when viewing your aging mom with your more mature, more critical gaze, that you render a bit more gentility and grace and forgiveness toward my current and future self. I wasn't always this way ... and I'll probably get worse! (haha) But remember, God isn't finished with me yet.
The past 15, 18, 20 years (at the original time of this writing) gave me complete license to do what I pleased in how I designed your upbringing. It allowed me to choose between nurturing you to be dependent on me, your mother and make me the center of your universes forever, such that I could delight in your constant company till I die, OR to facilitate your lives such that you grow and flourish into decent, independent persons, and raise you up to take flight of this roost wherein you were nurtured! I opted for the latter, yet how easily I could have opted for the former if I had a crystal ball into my future heart. Hahna has taken flight. Aubrey is preparing to do the same physically, and perhaps has already declared her independence emotionally. Two and a half more precious years with Baylee though! I'll savor those years so that your sudden disappearance won't catch me off guard like it did with Hahna (where I learned the meaning of "traumatic"! haha). And thank goodness Aubrey's going to college locally at first! Another hooray! Despite your insistent independence Aub, and frequent absence as you go off to hang with your buds, I will at least cross paths with you at home and savor those moments as well!
The Food Bank and soup kitchen are now consuming so much of my time that it's become a full-time job. That's a good thing for someone who requires distraction from the glaring reality that I am no longer the center of your universes. Yes change and reality sucks sometimes. I'm having to redefine the parameters of my happiness and am grateful that service beyond my home is becoming a greater part of it. Yet, at the original time of this writing (2011), I realize that I have precious little time left to spend with my two remaining daughters. Yet, how could I say "not now" to a Heavenly Father who had already marked out this charity path (the food bank) for your mother to readily pursue? Alas, 'seeking balance' and 'finding time' for other weightier family matters (i.e. my wonderful family) will be my byword as I extend my learning curve into 2012 and beyond. The sentiments in this blog are my own. Although your father probably shares many of them, I shall only speak for myself (perhaps I can get dad started on his own blog!) :)
As an older mother, I had the benefit of having a decade of contemplation behind me as to the sort of home I hoped to create and the type of mother I knew God wanted me to become. I wanted to provide you with a comforting, safe, happy and dare I say, near-perfect home and childhood. I wanted you to think and be comfortable in your own heads rather than rely on technology or others' thoughts, to fill them. Perhaps I was most influential in your younger years. Yet motherhood taught me where I fit in in the grand scheme of things. It was a perfect fit. Student, secretary, waitress, missionary, radio station employee, magazine editor, school teacher. These professions are nothing compared to my role as your mother. Prayerfully plodding through my map of mothering experiences, I endeavored to be as conscientious and divinely guided as was humanly possible for "a soul so rebellious and proud as mine" (lyrics from the hymn: I Stand All Amazed).
You're all very independent now, productively evolving away from the nest, as is part of the Plan, and that's a good thing. Yet the irony is that no such evolution occurs for mothers. We do not evolve away from our children. Despite your changes of drawing further away from home, a mother's need for, and focus on, her children never changes. Like all mothers, the present and future give us little say in the matter of how much our maturing departing children remain a part of our lives.
Each phase of your lives brought me new challenges and forced me to scramble and unconsciously reinvent myself to suit those ever-changing needs of yours. For at least 18 years, I focused, with lazer-like attention and energy, to your every need, until such time (in your young adulthood) as you felt that such attention is no longer warranted. When you were young, it paid off to be a super-focused mother, yet once you were older you labeled my focus as "too intense." haha. That was an understatement. In your younger years, you clung to my apron strings. In your adolescent years I was more of a nuisance to you. I remember being asked by you to depart when your friends were around because you were tired of the fact that I was around all the time --- as your YW president, your Primary president, your Achievement Days leader, your PTA president, your substitute, your seminary teacher. I did sympathize with that dilemma. But for the record, I never did, nor ever will, tire of you. As you can see, Motherhood is not for the faint of heart!
Though very imperfect, dad I did our level and prayerful best as your parents. In what way, you might ask? In ways you were (and maybe still are) likely unaware of: I knew to never spank you; taught you all to read before kindergarten practically providing more books for you than the public library; employed the gospel fully in every corner of our home (songs, books, lessons, chats, at home, in the car, camping, etc.): frequent personal and family prayer each time we left the house, FHE, took advantage of your life's gospel teaching moments and chats; facilitated growth opportunities for you when you were younger such as sports, music lessons, drama (dad facilitated the church plays for you guys); provided fun home school opportunities/field trips to coincide with your public education; went to your games, plays, awards, performances; constantly worked in your classrooms or at your schools and involved myself in your PTAs; provided maximum at-home enrichment for you via books, learning toys, arts & craft supplies, clay, paints, etc. etc. etc. (remember the days before technology became pre-eminent?!); limited TV watching in order to encourage your imaginations to fly; always readied clothes and lunches and breakfasts for you before you scurried off to school (even during seminary) -- with an occasional note tucked into your lunchbox; taught you all about the importance of individual prayers as well as family prayers; facilitated occasional 'mental health days' from school so we could go have lunch or for you to just rest your weary minds from your hard work at school; started working so that we could make ends meet and provide you with all the bells and whistles you needed; always taught the importance of attending church and encouraged your involvement in church activities (this wasn't usually negotiable); made sure we almost always ate together at the dinner table; taught you the value of honesty such that your teachers and classmates always admired that quality in you all; encouraged success and discouraged mediocrity; taught and praised your modesty so you were confident with it; encouraged your pursuit of any interests; introduced you to all kinds of music and nurtured your musical interests (lessons, band, etc.); remained vocal against any injustices aimed at you (yes, I was your fierce mama bear); taught you to not care about what people think (within reason); hopefully taught you to believe you could do anything you set your mind to; made camping and hiking as fun (and organized) as possible; took you swimming, bike riding, etc.; tried to keep our home presentable so that you would be comfortable in inviting friends over and not be embarrassed by it; taught you to love all people, despite their color, religion, or 'different' attitudes and behavior; taught you to always use good manners; tried to keep our home free of any bad influences by minimizing t.v., bad language (remember how we couldn't say "hate" or "fat"?), inappropriate dialogue (until, of course, you attended PHS, where you were unduly exposed to icky things); made God paramount in our lives; morning devotionals over breakfast using age-appropriate picture scripture books, reading scriptures as a family (thanks to Aubrey's reminders); drove you to seminary till you could drive yourselves; used gospel-based entertainment a lot (Veggie Tales, primary song tapes, religious books, etc.); always brought age-appropriate gospel activities to keep you occupied during sacrament meeting (i.e. gospel coloring books and flannel board stories); opted out of carpooling (which would've been very convenient for me) or bussing to school because you didn't feel comfortable with it; tried to stay involved in your education so that I could intervene if necessary (i.e. one of your teachers would throw away your homework until I asked her not to ... so I collected it! :)); a daily kiss and a hug (also not negotiable :); successfully (for the most part) tried my best to avoid some tendencies which were engrained in me since my youth (i.e. spanking, listening to hard rock music; inappropriate language) while you were growing up so as to create the most conducive spiritual home environment and example for you (yeah, I weakened as you grew older :); raised you all in a not-too-strict but not-too-lenient home that was a lingually clean, spiritually thoughtful, appropriately entertaining environment until you were all old enough to manage what you saw and heard and make your own wise choices (and call me to repentance when I was making bad choices myself! haha). So yeah, I tried my best. And having been raised in a home where all of these things were largely absent ... and in seeing the types of women you've become ... I'd say that, despite my many shortcomings, you all turned out pretty well. I can't take all the credit because ours was a triangle of parenting: me, your father, and your Heavenly Father. I hope that time won't dim these long ago memories of me/us and that, when viewing your aging mom with your more mature, more critical gaze, that you render a bit more gentility and grace and forgiveness toward my current and future self. I wasn't always this way ... and I'll probably get worse! (haha) But remember, God isn't finished with me yet.
The past 15, 18, 20 years (at the original time of this writing) gave me complete license to do what I pleased in how I designed your upbringing. It allowed me to choose between nurturing you to be dependent on me, your mother and make me the center of your universes forever, such that I could delight in your constant company till I die, OR to facilitate your lives such that you grow and flourish into decent, independent persons, and raise you up to take flight of this roost wherein you were nurtured! I opted for the latter, yet how easily I could have opted for the former if I had a crystal ball into my future heart. Hahna has taken flight. Aubrey is preparing to do the same physically, and perhaps has already declared her independence emotionally. Two and a half more precious years with Baylee though! I'll savor those years so that your sudden disappearance won't catch me off guard like it did with Hahna (where I learned the meaning of "traumatic"! haha). And thank goodness Aubrey's going to college locally at first! Another hooray! Despite your insistent independence Aub, and frequent absence as you go off to hang with your buds, I will at least cross paths with you at home and savor those moments as well!
So, as I reel from this proverbial dilemma for which I'm somewhat responsible, and over which I no longer have control, I find comfort that technology provides me with this blog to my daughters, in lieu of those frequent opportunities of days gone by when I could walk and talk with any or all three of you over homework, during dinner, chat with you while I scratched your back before bed, or read you all a story, kidnap you for an occasional lunch date, etc. Ah yes ... when life was so simple, when you all had no cares or worries, and when I rejoiced in that time of your gleeful unfettered innocence. From Playdoh to chasing sandcrabs and building sandcastles to eating the blackberries that purpled your faces and fingers, to delighting in proms and dresses and worrying about each of your happinesses (is that even a word?), I savored each walk, chat, every fragment of our lives together which, though not always pitch-perfect, was as comfortable and cozy as slipping my feet into warm worn fuzzy slippers.
I carry memories enough of you three to fill the Library of Congress, and just to name a few (take a deep breath and walk down this memory lane with me if you dare): painting with water books, big crayons, gel pens, Barbies, legos, hot wheels, glow in the dark stars, being able to take any of you into a 2-hour meeting where you could quietly occupy yourselves with crayons or books, mastering Hooked on Phonics at ages 3 or 4, I Can Read books (Frog n Toad!), the pitter-patter of your little feet as you ran to our room and crawled into bed with us, what fun dinner time was with you, your running hugs when I came to pick you up after school, school lunches, little necklaces with glitter liquid inside, picking out your own backpacks and lunchboxes, your new-school-year-delight when we got to shop at Walmart for brand new school supplies, lace socks and light up sneakers, teaching you how to tie your shoes, little backyard pools, arm floaties in big pools, teaching you to roller skate and then having fun at the roller rink, Sporthaven pools, playdates at the park, picnics, naps and quiet time, bouncing on your beds, crawling into your beds, crafts, Achievement Days, YW, nursery at church, PTA stuff at your schools, driving you to school instead of bussing you, homeschool Fridays, savings bonds and other awards for your essays, art, etc., different sized carseats, Crabtree's pool, your childhood friends, each of your very unique dispositions and abilities/talents/interests, Hahna's stitches, Aubrey's energy, Baylee's mellowness, family campouts, learning to ride a bicycle, Disneyland trips, opting to raise you in a small town instead of the city of So. Cal, all of your musical interests and performances, magic acts at ward talent shows, our candle dance, Easter baskets, articles or pictures about you in the newspaper or magazine, Christmas elf hunts, your confiding in me your treasured private thoughts, playing for the creche festival, spelling bees, Hahna's billboard, shyness, over-the-top birthday parties and sleepovers, bubbly bath times, great dentist checkups, decorating Easter eggs, favorite foods, playing mud/water/ leaf pile games in the yard, soft pretzel animals, Mother's day t-shirts, bed tents, blanket tents, scary stories, Billy the Booger, the Multi-age school/classes, riding your tricycles from inside the garage down the driveway, building the upstairs playroom, growing up in Paradise and loving the outdoors, your spiritual groundings at home and church, our frequent family prayers and your sweet personal prayers when you were little, our morning devotionals with children's scriptures/scripture stories, storytimes at night, helping in your classrooms, chaperoning field trips, song tapes in the car when driving, or devotionals in the car when you were older, Joy School, the co-op preschool, all of your elementary school teachers who loved and trusted you all, learning to swim and do sports, trying out different disciplines until we got it right, speech class, family home evenings, snowcaves, snowsledding in the culdesac or up the hill, fun at home during power failures, first time driving experiences, crushes, your all being the kinds of girls I'd look up to when I was young, Mother's Day breakfasts in bed, handmade cards and gifts, talks in Primary and Sacrament Meeting, having sacrament meeting at home, your inquisitive minds and questions, your meaningful prayers, your sports activities (soccer, track, cross country, basketball, volleyball), your proms and stake dances, road trips, patriarchal blessings, fashion, haircuts, shaving/epilating, EFY's, getting your licenses, boyfriends, finding a dozen ways to kiss you hello/goodbye so it wouldn't embarrass you ...................... phew! Yet i could go on.
Lately, when sitting quietly somewhere or going on a solitary walk, I often find myself fighting back the tears because I am overcome by this swirling wave of emotions that arise when I least expect: missing all of because of the distance between us, cringing at the thought of each of you departing, missing a life we used to have together, missing your vanished childhoods and my own younger, innocent parent self, and yearning for your physical and emotional presence as your lives carry you away from me. I momentarily reject any notion of this ongoing maternal transformation and having to let go again and again, with each visit and departure to school or wherever. I'm caught unawares when memories arise of every swimsuit you ever wore, of the sweet shivering little girls I'd take out of their baths and wrap up in warm towels and warm kisses, of the endless McDonald's happy meals we shared, of the buckets of shells and rocks and glass pebbles we collected, of the silly songs we'd sing in the car together, of the injured baby birds you'd try to bring back to life, of the smores we ate and the campfire stories we'd tell, of the sweet little cheeks I kissed every good night, of your velcro shoes, our late-night Halloween strolls to fill your candy buckets, the pitter patter of a sweet little babygirl (Aubrey) tiptoe-ing to the living room for a peek at her presents or Santa Claus ..... of Baylee's extreme shyness (though we learned that her 'still waters ran deep'); gads ... so many many indescribable sweet simple joys. Then I realize that there's love in letting go.
I carry memories enough of you three to fill the Library of Congress, and just to name a few (take a deep breath and walk down this memory lane with me if you dare): painting with water books, big crayons, gel pens, Barbies, legos, hot wheels, glow in the dark stars, being able to take any of you into a 2-hour meeting where you could quietly occupy yourselves with crayons or books, mastering Hooked on Phonics at ages 3 or 4, I Can Read books (Frog n Toad!), the pitter-patter of your little feet as you ran to our room and crawled into bed with us, what fun dinner time was with you, your running hugs when I came to pick you up after school, school lunches, little necklaces with glitter liquid inside, picking out your own backpacks and lunchboxes, your new-school-year-delight when we got to shop at Walmart for brand new school supplies, lace socks and light up sneakers, teaching you how to tie your shoes, little backyard pools, arm floaties in big pools, teaching you to roller skate and then having fun at the roller rink, Sporthaven pools, playdates at the park, picnics, naps and quiet time, bouncing on your beds, crawling into your beds, crafts, Achievement Days, YW, nursery at church, PTA stuff at your schools, driving you to school instead of bussing you, homeschool Fridays, savings bonds and other awards for your essays, art, etc., different sized carseats, Crabtree's pool, your childhood friends, each of your very unique dispositions and abilities/talents/interests, Hahna's stitches, Aubrey's energy, Baylee's mellowness, family campouts, learning to ride a bicycle, Disneyland trips, opting to raise you in a small town instead of the city of So. Cal, all of your musical interests and performances, magic acts at ward talent shows, our candle dance, Easter baskets, articles or pictures about you in the newspaper or magazine, Christmas elf hunts, your confiding in me your treasured private thoughts, playing for the creche festival, spelling bees, Hahna's billboard, shyness, over-the-top birthday parties and sleepovers, bubbly bath times, great dentist checkups, decorating Easter eggs, favorite foods, playing mud/water/ leaf pile games in the yard, soft pretzel animals, Mother's day t-shirts, bed tents, blanket tents, scary stories, Billy the Booger, the Multi-age school/classes, riding your tricycles from inside the garage down the driveway, building the upstairs playroom, growing up in Paradise and loving the outdoors, your spiritual groundings at home and church, our frequent family prayers and your sweet personal prayers when you were little, our morning devotionals with children's scriptures/scripture stories, storytimes at night, helping in your classrooms, chaperoning field trips, song tapes in the car when driving, or devotionals in the car when you were older, Joy School, the co-op preschool, all of your elementary school teachers who loved and trusted you all, learning to swim and do sports, trying out different disciplines until we got it right, speech class, family home evenings, snowcaves, snowsledding in the culdesac or up the hill, fun at home during power failures, first time driving experiences, crushes, your all being the kinds of girls I'd look up to when I was young, Mother's Day breakfasts in bed, handmade cards and gifts, talks in Primary and Sacrament Meeting, having sacrament meeting at home, your inquisitive minds and questions, your meaningful prayers, your sports activities (soccer, track, cross country, basketball, volleyball), your proms and stake dances, road trips, patriarchal blessings, fashion, haircuts, shaving/epilating, EFY's, getting your licenses, boyfriends, finding a dozen ways to kiss you hello/goodbye so it wouldn't embarrass you ...................... phew! Yet i could go on.
Lately, when sitting quietly somewhere or going on a solitary walk, I often find myself fighting back the tears because I am overcome by this swirling wave of emotions that arise when I least expect: missing all of because of the distance between us, cringing at the thought of each of you departing, missing a life we used to have together, missing your vanished childhoods and my own younger, innocent parent self, and yearning for your physical and emotional presence as your lives carry you away from me. I momentarily reject any notion of this ongoing maternal transformation and having to let go again and again, with each visit and departure to school or wherever. I'm caught unawares when memories arise of every swimsuit you ever wore, of the sweet shivering little girls I'd take out of their baths and wrap up in warm towels and warm kisses, of the endless McDonald's happy meals we shared, of the buckets of shells and rocks and glass pebbles we collected, of the silly songs we'd sing in the car together, of the injured baby birds you'd try to bring back to life, of the smores we ate and the campfire stories we'd tell, of the sweet little cheeks I kissed every good night, of your velcro shoes, our late-night Halloween strolls to fill your candy buckets, the pitter patter of a sweet little babygirl (Aubrey) tiptoe-ing to the living room for a peek at her presents or Santa Claus ..... of Baylee's extreme shyness (though we learned that her 'still waters ran deep'); gads ... so many many indescribable sweet simple joys. Then I realize that there's love in letting go.
And to what end has this multitude of experiences been rewarded? To an end far sweeter than I could have ever imagined: I knew that I raised and taught you reasonably well when we arrived at that point where you three would teach me or call me to repentance ... ironically, you three already began doing this when you were very young ; you are now three lovely young women (inside and out), all of you intelligent, well-adjusted, gifted in your own right, with a love and devotion to one another, to family, and to God. All of you will be wonderful positive contributions to our society and your own future families and wards, and above all, to your Savior, His Gospel, and a Father in Heaven who loves you all more deeply than even I do (that doesn't seem possible, but yeah). And finally, there's that inexpressible joy of knowing that we will spend an eternity together as a family --- yours, mine, and ours. Of all my Mother's Day gifts, past present and future, the very best gift you can ever give me will be to do your part in earning that gift and experience your own happiness in your own well-lived lives.
So then, from the deepest reaches of my heart, I take a deep breath, grab a tissue, and continue on.
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