A sense of grief

 

               I have twelve cousins – eight on my dad’s side and four on my mom’s.  My parents are each the eldest in their families.  Dad has a brother two years younger and baby sister (they are about twelve years apart).  My mom has two brothers.  All of my dad’s family lived in the Salt Lake area except for the few years that my Uncle and Aunt lived in Denver for a couple of years – that could be a different post and was several decades in the past.

         My mom’s family lived in different parts of northern California.  My mom’s first brother and his wife had three children – a boy and two girls.  The youngest brother and his wife had adopted a boy.  We had visited our cousins on occasion but didn’t know much about them beyond their names. And even with that one I am not certain of his given name.  I had thought it was Joshua and they changed it to Josiah.  He went by Joe so I am not sure what is was. I am five years older than the oldest of my cousins on my mom’s side.  None of us are close.

         The eldest cousin lives in Oregon.  Richard, Jaime and I have visited him and his wife five or six years ago.  That was it.  Our only visit with him as an adult and probably only three when we were in our youth.  I’ve had contact with his youngest sister on facebook but nothing recent – until yesterday.

         My mom and her first brother passed away the same year.  His children had given us updates about his health. He died shortly mom had moved into assisted living.  Their youngest brother had come to see mom a few weeks after he passed. She passed four months after he did.

         And yesterday  both of my brothers recived phone messages from San Mateo welfare system – one viewed it as a scam but the other one answered.  The call was to inform them of the passing of our uncle and as his son had passed the year prior the posterity of his siblings would be the sole heirs of his estate.  Say what?  Steven sent out a text message to us and asked if any of us knew how to get a hold of our cousins.

         I messeged the two who are on facebook.  I felt like a heel not knowing their lives or what their position is toward our late uncle but informing them that not only has he passed but that it has been requested that someone from family assist in matters.  I included the eldest of my cousin’s wife in the conversation as she is on facebook and though my cousin has an account is not on often it at all.  He is in his final stages with Huntington’s and will probably be gone by next year. I have learned of three deaths have happened (or will happen) within the matter of minutes. 

         There were tears in my eyes – for Uncle Bruce was a loner and died alone.  I have no idea when or how Joe passed.  I’m not even close to these people though I do have memories.  Only a few memories.  It was a hodgepodge combination of emotions brought to the surface.  My vision made the messages received blurry.  I was involved in a text conversation with my brothers relating messages I’d received from messenger from my cousins – trying to correct what I’d transcribed before sending it.  I was an emotional wreck. I wish I knew better than I do.

3 anniversarys: fantastic, melancholy and tragic

                My brother no longer posts to his blog but has left MANY detailed posts on his facebook page.  Yesterday was a tribute to mom and some to himself for the grief of her loss.  He said he’d almost forgotten that it was 13 years ago yesterday.  His final note (after providing a detailed account of her final stages of life) was “hearts and wounds heal with time and that life continues moving forward”.

          Am I a terrible person for forgetting when she died?  She passed the day after Richard and I celebrated our 12^th wedding anniversary.  We were married two days prior to the bombing of the twin towers in New York – a day when our nation seemed to pull together to show their support.  A time when Rudy Giuliani cared about his city and seemed to be loved and respected.

          Having mom pass was disheartening, but I don’t think as disheartening as having her forget.  Having her mind in a different world apart from our own reality.  I remember that first week after we had checked her in. I remember watching a health-care worker spoon feeding one of the residents – the way one would a toddler in a high chair.  I was saddened by the sight thinking my mom would be in that position one day.  But she wasn’t.  She passed before going through all the stages.  I was glad of that.  I was happy to not have to see her being spoon fed.  I wasn’t happy that she had passed – but we had all lost her long before then.  Dementia had robbed us all.

          Three anniversaries in a row.  A great one for me and Richard.  A mixed-emotion one for my family.  A devastating one for the nation – though we do have a few positive results – the overall reasoning is just so heartbreaking. 

Restoring Legacies and Treasures

 

Richard and I will often watch BBC’s “The Repair Shop” (here) in which patrons bring their time worn heirlooms to be restored to another time.  It’s great to see so many attached to sentiments in our throw-it-out/replace/upgrade it society.  I don’t recall having any family heirlooms.

My mom had been raised in poorer circumstances with many relics that may not have been considered antiques at the time – certainly not of value either financially or sentimentally.  We threw things away and replaced them – though I remember my brother and I both hoarding “stuff” as sentiments.  Perhaps even now.  But nothing worth restoring . . . I don’t think.

I do have a set of scriptures that belonged to my mother.  The binding on the triple combination is torn in places and many of the pages have definitely seen better days.  But it is a treasure because I see where she has marked certain scriptures and written in the margin.  That for me is a treasure – something I would definitely have restored if I lived in England and could travel to the repair shop more easily than now.

The most interesting thing I think I have seen is a coconut scraper (which I had never even heard of before, but does make sense; just something the average person wouldn’t encounter or have need for) and the most touching has been with the restoration of a painting that survived war.  You can read about (and see the workmanship involved) here for one.  There are others if you would like to research it more.

Thank you to those who have the skills to make the restorations possible and for those who choose to have their legacy live on in these items.  I love to hear their stories.  And I love watching the shared talent of others.

My Church Friend

 It must have happened shortly after

she was taken to the doctor for a

different medication.  I hadn’t seen

her for a few weeks.  I called and left

a message.  I had more than once. 

People were starting to worry.  Her

family hadn’t let us know that she

was gone. 

We could have offered our assistance.  Why

didn’t they tell us she had been called home to

our Heavenly Father?  She passed two

months ago and I am just learning about

it today.  Perhaps the family didn’t know

how to get in touch with us just as we

don’t know how to get in touch with them. 

At least I didn’t.  I didn’t know her for long. 

What an impact she has made.

Watership Fawns

 

              

               Between exit 112 and 110

 I see a couple of deer quite

close to the shoulder of I5 and I

think of the doe who tried to

outrun us in this post and wonder –

do these deer not see the cars as preditors?

  For the most part I have seen fawns – perhaps

teenagers making a dare – going for the most

luscious grass near the shoulder

(which I don’t believe has any vegetation worth the risk) 

I always think of “Watership Down”

only deer instead of rabbits.

car is moving to quickly to take an accurate

picture.  I see them only on the return from

Roseburg – never toward

Feeling Inspired

                In April I was asked to outline the RS lessons to correspond

with Come Follow Me lessons. 

I had only my notes and the titles of the 2020 “Don’t Miss This” Episodes.

It was right after general conference and so I didn’t have the titles of

the talks we had picked,

only the speakers.

Of course I prayed for inspiration on where to put the 11 or 12 conference talks that

we had picked for our lessons. 

There were six that were definitely set in stone but wasn’t quite certain

how to place the other talks. 

This week’s theme was spot on as the reading in Come Follow Me was on the Strippling Warriors (starting here) and the RS lesson was from this talk.  

Summer Mind Melt

 

               I have had ideas for posting 

– but have not made the effort to 

            communicate what’s in my brain to 

my fingers to type out what I thought.  

        It’s usually gone before the 

computer has booted.  I am so out of it during 

                        the summer.  Either fatigued 

due to the heat or knocked into 

a coma by the wind, fan and/or air conditioning.  

            Summer came early this year.  

            It was in May.  

 And now it’s August, but it 

                            feels like fall.  

I have been more alert this week.  

Not so tired and in a trance. 

            This morning I got up to turn on

the heater.  What is up with that?

Perfect Weather

 

        It has cooled off severely. 

High today is supposed to reach 67. 

How awesome is that?   

I wish that were the high all year long.

Pool Party Cancelled

                Since moving to Oregon I have taken a fitness each summer except for 2020.  The class has averaged 10 – 16 people except for this year.  Mass turnouts.  Each week we have had an average of two to six people who are new to the class or haven’t attended for several years.  If everybody that came to class at least one time this year were to show up for a pool party, I suspect we’d have between thirty and forty people (I am guessing closer to forty) Fortunately not everybody who has attended all summer long turns out every day because that is a lot of people for a workout group.

        I don’t recall which year the instructor decided to introduce the “pool party” idea that would take place the last Saturday before the lifeguards returned to school and the pool closed.  I have only gone to two.  Last year the pool party was closed due to the hazardous amount of smoke in the air. 

    

        Yesterday it rained ALL day.  Poured.  I hadn’t seen (or felt) rain that hard in Oregon since Easter of 2015 – before we had even moved to Oregon. It was pretty apparent that we wouldn’t have the pool party before it was even announced.  No big deal in my opinion.  I’d much rather be rained out than smoked out.  And we really needed the rain more than the pool party. 

 

I Didn’t Wish to Jinx it

                I have been quite lame about posting to my blog this summer.  The weather wipes me out.  Either I am so hot that I can’t think or I’m being sent to a coma by the a/c or fans . . . . or winds.  I have been feeling blessed with the lack of smoke that we have seen this month – although the last two days have brought a haze that I can barely see.  Richard and Jaime can smell it but I cannot.  I’ve had the windows open and just thought it was overcast.

               I’ve been checking the fire map and have not noticed any fires along I5.  Richard says this is blowing from the east of us and is the worst fire in all of Oregon history.  All the fires have been given names – usually after the area it is burning.  This one is called the Durkee Fire – just west of Boise, Idaho (here).  Oh, my heck! 

               We did have a fire in the neighborhood quite recently.  I missed my window of opportunity for taking pictures.  I did that on purpose hoping that it could be maintained and I we wouldn’t have to evacuate.  I heard the fire trucks and new it was close – but not so close that those who live in the adjoining neighborhood wouldn’t be able to get through on our street and would have to park their cars at the base of the hill.  I had never seen so many cars parked or people outside in the neighborhood since we moved in 2016.  But then again we didn’t have most of those neighbors before 2020.  Weird.

               I did not see the fire.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen the flames from any fire – only smoke.  White smoke at that – the water sprays were the same white color and the fire was out. I don’t know what happened but am very grateful that it was out shortly after the trucks arrived.  Perhaps I’ll create a follow up post if I should hear about what may have happened.

Growth and Shrinkage

           The last ward we attended in Utah was called Granger 14^th.  Boundaries were exceptionally weird, but we did have enough activity that there were two adult Sunday Schools. I don’t recall anyone having multiple callings.  It was a good ward.

          We had only been here for a couple of years when we returned to Utah for my late daughter-in-law’s funeral.  We had been invited to stay for a linger longer at the Granger 14^th.  A lot of people had moved out of the ward in that two years time.  A LOT.  I asked someone if a lot of members were on vacation.  Looking around she claimed that most of the ward was in attendance.  The ward had shrunk.

          When Jaime and I had gone back for a visit last year we were told that the Granger 14^th had dissolved. That's too bad.  Understandable, but still sad.

          The other day I received a phone call from my sister updating me on the boundary changes that had taken place within their stake (first area where Richard and I had moved to).  She, for one, was grateful for the change as there has always been an overwhelming amount of members who were not active and so did not have callings.

          Our current ward has had a lot of inactivity as well.  I have never lived in a ward where I couldn’t walk from one end to the other.  I don’t know how many miles the ward boundary covers.  I know there are some who if they visited others would take over an hour just to arrive at one another’s houses. 

          We have had six or seven convert baptisms just this year.  Most are still active.  There is one who is slipping and two that have received the discussions but have not committed to baptism – rather have listened to those who are against having them baptized.

          There is growth – such as having only six wards in our stake after we moved in.  We now currently have seven. There is also shrinkage. 

Lift Where You Stand

 

According to my Cryptogram puzzles Pope Francis said “God Never gives someone a gift they are not capable of receiving . . .” referring to the gift of Christmas, but I took it to another level and posted the following to the RS page:

“God never gives us gifts that we are not capable of receiving. He never gives us a calling that we are unable to fulfill. If we are willing and ask in faith for His loving guidance we can perform as an instrument in His hands. We can go from an unpopped kernal to desirable popcorn that we were meant to be.”

The last part of the quote comes from Ben Wilcox “Come Follow Me” lesson for next week (here)

          I know that there are people who struggle with their callings as they feel inadequate in the position due to their lack of knowledge or being able to relate to those they serve or those they serve with.  I do not foresee that in my current position or presidency, but I know when I was initially called back in 2018 there were some challenges that were in attendance.  I’ve served with three different presidents now and think we are at our best this year.

          Some presidents have delegated with no problem, others don’t seem to know the meaning of the word.  Sometimes the calling we are given is to serve those have trouble with delegating or handing the reigns to someone else.  Sometimes for those we serve.  Often for ourselves. 

          My mom accepted all callings she was asked to fulfill – often with a lack of enthusiasm or self confidence.  She had taught in primary, nursery, cub scouts and Relief Society and was diligent in her calling and always prayed for guidance.

          One year when my brother was about eight or nine she had been called to teach his class.  She had one rebellious youth who challenged her as he needed discipline and she seemed to focus on that aspect of her calling.  She made an appointment to see the bishop to ask if she could be released.  And then something amazing happened . . .

          Now this is in the day of landlines and long distant calls – costly at that.  She received a call one day (before her appointment with the bishop) and it was another student from her class.  She had gone out of town to attend the funeral of a family member and had been having a hard time with her emotions but then remembered something my mom had taught her in primary.  She was still out of town when called my mom (long distant) to thank her for teaching her about the Holy Ghost.  It was a confirmation to my mom that she needed to stay put in the primary class and not focus so much on the poor behavior of one student when there were several others who were learning.

          My mom often compared herself to others saying that she didn’t have the talent to lead music as well as Bro. Smith and felt mortified if ever he walked by while she was leading music.  Or teaching.  She didn’t have the same theological understanding of the scriptures as our neighbor Peggy for instance.  I would get upset with my mom and lovingly scold her because she was called to lead the music perhaps for her own growth – and I doubt that Bro. Smith ever thought, “I could do this better.  What was Heavenly Father thinking allowing her to lead music?”

          We all have our own talents and abilities.  We can’t all reach every single person in the same manner that someone else might.  I, for example, prefer the simplistic teaching as opposed to the theological scholars who speak in four syllable words and I have no idea what they’re talking about.  My brain is not that complex.  Nor was my mom’s.

          One day she was teaching her lesson and scolding herself for not knowing the lesson inside out, forwards and backwards and with her eyes closed.  At the end of her lesson a member who had not been to church for several years came up to her and thanked her for her simple lesson.  It had been easy to understand.

          “See,” I told my mom.  I don’t recall my exact words but I reminded her that we all have talents – some aren’t as polished as others, but that’s okay.  We are all here to learn and grow together.  Some might need a nudge to get going.  We all have potential.

        The title of my blog post?  I got that from a talk I read this morning.  Elder Uchtdorf's talk to the general priesthood October 2008 here