I may be in the minority, but there are some things I love about growing older. While I'm a little dismayed by the changes in my metabolism and skin, I figure those things are trade-offs for much better gifts. Over the next little while I want to consider some of the things I've traded my youth for and remember to be glad.
The thing I love most about getting older is the rich association I share with so many great people. When I was 18 I had a handful of friends and family members who enriched my life. When I turned 40 last week I realized I am blessed with a great multiplying of that number. I have a husband I nearly always adore, children of my own, brothers and sisters-in-law, nieces and nephews, a mom-in-law whose friendship I cherish, and hundreds of dear, dear friends met along the path of life in the various circumstances and places I have found myself. These people are in addition to my parents, siblings, grandparents, and the childhood friends of my late teens and early twenties. How could I ever exchange these people and the rich memories of their love and friendship for my youth? I love the memories made on my mission in the Dominican Republic walking down dusty streets and teaching by lantern-light people who were my spiritual equals and in many cases, my superiors. I loved my courtship and subsequent marriage to Jay and fondly remember our years in the student wards. The gang of friends we made and loved there helped support us through the loss of our first daughter and after all these years I still value and sometimes crave their companionship. All the family members who have come into the Burton family and the Hill family since and during our marriage have brought their own share of joy, comradery, and love. I think of them one by one as I write this and feel so grateful. The neighbors and ward members in Boise, Salt Lake City, and New Hampshire have contributed so much to the richness of my life. I almost hate lumping everyone together in such broad categories because I think of all these people in a most individual way and remember the personal ways they have touched and improved my life. Truly, how could I ever long to be 19 again? Things are ever so much more beautiful now.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Interjections!
Remember those old Schoolhouse Rock cartoons that came on each Saturday morning like Conjunction Junction, I'm Just a Bill, Unpack Your Adjectives,and so many more? Jay and I have enjoyed watching those again with our kids. Now that I'm a grown-up they seem so profoundly clever.
This week I'm thinking of one called Interjections! during which at one point a cartoon guy shouts, "Hey! That's not fair! Givin' a guy a shot down there!" right as the Doctor gives him a poke on his posterior. Last week I underwent surgery and spent a few days in the hospital and am still recovering. I planned during the recovery to organize my journals and recipe files and read several books. I had no idea that recovery time is actually needed for well, recovery. Five days after surgery I finally finished the last 60 pages of the book I had planned to finish that first night in the hospital. I haven't even glanced at my journals. My doctor was professionally vague about the recovery saying that I would be a little green on the first day but that I would be very bored by the rest of my hospital stay. I took him at his word but now I know better and I join that little cartoon guy interjecting, "Hey! That's not fair!" Encouraging me to set such unrealistic goals. I have another interjection for my doctor. "Hmph!"
This week I'm thinking of one called Interjections! during which at one point a cartoon guy shouts, "Hey! That's not fair! Givin' a guy a shot down there!" right as the Doctor gives him a poke on his posterior. Last week I underwent surgery and spent a few days in the hospital and am still recovering. I planned during the recovery to organize my journals and recipe files and read several books. I had no idea that recovery time is actually needed for well, recovery. Five days after surgery I finally finished the last 60 pages of the book I had planned to finish that first night in the hospital. I haven't even glanced at my journals. My doctor was professionally vague about the recovery saying that I would be a little green on the first day but that I would be very bored by the rest of my hospital stay. I took him at his word but now I know better and I join that little cartoon guy interjecting, "Hey! That's not fair!" Encouraging me to set such unrealistic goals. I have another interjection for my doctor. "Hmph!"
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Now I know
When Topher (now 11) was 5 or 6 his older cousin Shaina began taking violin lessons. She graciously agreed to play for our family on Christmas Eve. As she played Topher leaned over and whispered, "Mom, why did Uncle Brent and Aunt JeNeale buy Shaina such a squeaky violin?"
Fast forward 5 or 6 years and now we find Topher, already a promising young pianist playing tenor sax with the elementary school band. I am astonished at how quickly he is learning to play this instrument and in addition, the sheer volume of the practice sessions has cleared our home of common household pests! Sometimes when he is practicing he makes extraordinary high-pitched sounds in the middle of a well-known melody such as, say, Good King Wenceslas. These jarring nuances send him and our whole family into fits of irresponsible, irrepressible, irreproachable laughter.
On Friday night we attended the Rindge Memorial School concert. Ronan and the other 3rd graders sang some wonderful Christmas songs (I know it's January, I'll explain in a future post) and Topher and his band played. The band consists of 2 alto saxaphones and Topher's tenor sax, 2 drummers, 1 trombone, 1 trumpet, and 700 flutes. When the band began to play I had an epiphany. Do you ever wonder about the origin of certain words, words like waft, seizure, or for that matter, epiphany? Who makes these words up? Who says them the first time and then who uses them over and over until they finally achieve dictionary status? In that 10 minutes of elementary musicality I pictured another parent much like myself sitting at her child's first band concert. Now I know how the word cacophony was born.
P.S. Can anyone tell me why all those parents bought their children such squeaky instruments?
Fast forward 5 or 6 years and now we find Topher, already a promising young pianist playing tenor sax with the elementary school band. I am astonished at how quickly he is learning to play this instrument and in addition, the sheer volume of the practice sessions has cleared our home of common household pests! Sometimes when he is practicing he makes extraordinary high-pitched sounds in the middle of a well-known melody such as, say, Good King Wenceslas. These jarring nuances send him and our whole family into fits of irresponsible, irrepressible, irreproachable laughter.
On Friday night we attended the Rindge Memorial School concert. Ronan and the other 3rd graders sang some wonderful Christmas songs (I know it's January, I'll explain in a future post) and Topher and his band played. The band consists of 2 alto saxaphones and Topher's tenor sax, 2 drummers, 1 trombone, 1 trumpet, and 700 flutes. When the band began to play I had an epiphany. Do you ever wonder about the origin of certain words, words like waft, seizure, or for that matter, epiphany? Who makes these words up? Who says them the first time and then who uses them over and over until they finally achieve dictionary status? In that 10 minutes of elementary musicality I pictured another parent much like myself sitting at her child's first band concert. Now I know how the word cacophony was born.
P.S. Can anyone tell me why all those parents bought their children such squeaky instruments?
Friday, January 9, 2009
Mission!
My parents got their mission call last night. They have been called as welfare missionaries to Moscow, Russia. My dad, who spent 6 weeks in Russia 12 years ago, is thrilled. My mom - is terrified. I am jealous. They are going to speak with the fellow in charge of welfare missions today and will be able to learn more about their assignment and then I'll know more. They leave April twenty-something and will serve an 18 month term. Hooray for them!
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Angelic Whirlwind
Today Susan called. She asked what I was doing. I looked around at dirty dishes and piles of laundry. "I'll be here at home," I demurely responded. "Well, I'm coming over. You have two and a half hours of my time this morning. I'll help you clean your house before your parents come." I quickly hid the underwear pile waiting to be folded on the couch and checked to make sure there weren't any others on the bathroom floor. I ran to the basement to clear a path to the Christmas boxes and brought up as many as I could so Susan would have absolutely no reason to go down there. I took out some trash and sorted through recycling because, heaven forbid, she might otherwise venture into the garage. I shut my bedroom door. I brushed my teeth. All the while I was asking myself, "Why is it so scary to let my friend see that life happens around here and doesn't always get cleaned up? Why is it so hard to be the receiver in this way?" I recently shared a very personal entry from my journal with her and that was easier than accepting her generous cleaning offer. Why is that?
When she arrived we took down the Christmas tree. She wrapped each ornament in paper and labeled it! We took down the Christmas village and boxed up the little trees, people and houses. While we worked we talked. I learned a little about her parents and we talked about our hopes and fears for our children. I wanted to say something profound and helpful when she asked my opinion on something she worried about but couldn't really think of anything. I remembered the time I'd been sick and she came with dinner and a family home evening lesson (it was Monday night) and even treats for afterward. Not to mention the time she learned that I had lost something very valuable and called offering to replace it with something valuable of her own. How do you repay someone who is, in every way, an angelic whirlwind? I don't even have time to write a thank you note for the previous kindness before another is extended.
There are other such friends. Friends who have seen our family fall down and get back up again and again. Friends whose gifts of love are too sacred and precious to record publicly. While our family is a strong and happy family, we have experienced some challenging things together in the last few years. All my life I have been trained to be the giver, not the receiver. I felt like I was the one who could make life a little easier for someone else. But in these last few years, I have been the receiver of physical, spiritual and emotional support over and over and over again.
I remember once hearing someone say, "I don't accept charity." The person speaking made it seem that it was dishonorable to be indebted to anyone for anything. In the past I loved feeling like I was strong enough to meet all the needs of my family by myself. But that was the long ago past. I have since learned that I do need charity. I need a lot of it. I hope I am learning to accept charitable offers with humility and grace and in so doing, remember again how very much I need the Savior and His charity. And I hope that by being the receiver again and again I am learning to be a better giver - more generous and Christlike in my service, in my conversation and in my opinions. I hope that by finding myself in a humbler state as I have these last years, I might now turn my eye upon others trying to see them as the Savior sees me; with all my flaws, blemishes and weaknesses (things as they truly are)but with the ability to focus on what is best and most beautiful.
At some point during Susan's visit baby Michael, the youngest of her six children, needed his diaper changed and Susan asked to borrow wipes. I courageously led her upstairs to my bedroom and opened the door. There was the stack of unfolded underwear on my unmade bed; there was the changing table piled high with various and sundries that have nothing to do with changing a baby; there was the ironing board and 3 baskets full of wrinkled things; there was the stack of books and videos waiting to be organized and put away; there were all the dirty socks on the floor and the wet towels hanging over the bed rails to dry; there it all was. Susan reached for the wipes and said, "What a cute bed!"
When she arrived we took down the Christmas tree. She wrapped each ornament in paper and labeled it! We took down the Christmas village and boxed up the little trees, people and houses. While we worked we talked. I learned a little about her parents and we talked about our hopes and fears for our children. I wanted to say something profound and helpful when she asked my opinion on something she worried about but couldn't really think of anything. I remembered the time I'd been sick and she came with dinner and a family home evening lesson (it was Monday night) and even treats for afterward. Not to mention the time she learned that I had lost something very valuable and called offering to replace it with something valuable of her own. How do you repay someone who is, in every way, an angelic whirlwind? I don't even have time to write a thank you note for the previous kindness before another is extended.
There are other such friends. Friends who have seen our family fall down and get back up again and again. Friends whose gifts of love are too sacred and precious to record publicly. While our family is a strong and happy family, we have experienced some challenging things together in the last few years. All my life I have been trained to be the giver, not the receiver. I felt like I was the one who could make life a little easier for someone else. But in these last few years, I have been the receiver of physical, spiritual and emotional support over and over and over again.
I remember once hearing someone say, "I don't accept charity." The person speaking made it seem that it was dishonorable to be indebted to anyone for anything. In the past I loved feeling like I was strong enough to meet all the needs of my family by myself. But that was the long ago past. I have since learned that I do need charity. I need a lot of it. I hope I am learning to accept charitable offers with humility and grace and in so doing, remember again how very much I need the Savior and His charity. And I hope that by being the receiver again and again I am learning to be a better giver - more generous and Christlike in my service, in my conversation and in my opinions. I hope that by finding myself in a humbler state as I have these last years, I might now turn my eye upon others trying to see them as the Savior sees me; with all my flaws, blemishes and weaknesses (things as they truly are)but with the ability to focus on what is best and most beautiful.
At some point during Susan's visit baby Michael, the youngest of her six children, needed his diaper changed and Susan asked to borrow wipes. I courageously led her upstairs to my bedroom and opened the door. There was the stack of unfolded underwear on my unmade bed; there was the changing table piled high with various and sundries that have nothing to do with changing a baby; there was the ironing board and 3 baskets full of wrinkled things; there was the stack of books and videos waiting to be organized and put away; there were all the dirty socks on the floor and the wet towels hanging over the bed rails to dry; there it all was. Susan reached for the wipes and said, "What a cute bed!"
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Lights Out
Jay and I have no E-Mail at home right now. In Ruralville where we live we have only Internet option A and Internet option B and I have almost lost what is left of my mind trying to deal with A. Hopefully on to B in October. I'm posting from Jay's school this morning in hopes I can buy myself some time and that my 2 remaining readers won't give up entirely.
We had a tremendous rainstorm yesterday. No thunder or lightning, just steady rain all day long. In the evening we invited some friends over for chowder and cornbread. The Garcia family from our branch are good friends with whom Jay and I can practice our Spanish with no fear of scorn or mortification (I'm the only one who need worry about scorn and mort - Jay can still hold his own quite nicely). Also in attendance was out good friend, Francis Lizotte, who is a mentally challenged fellow about Jay's age whom our family has adopted. We had a nice dinner and later Jay and Fernando (Garcia father) left to take Francis back home. While they were gone the electricity went out and we were plunged into pitch blackness. Because this is not a terribly rare occasion I knew exactly where the flashlight was and we all cozied up in the family room. Cozying up anywhere in our house is easy because we don't have a single room in our entire house as big as JeNeale's master bathroom not including shower and closet. I brought out a fairy tale book that my mom used to read from when I was a child and we read in the dark The Six Travelers, Thick-Headed Jack, and The Twelve Dancing Princesses. When the daddies returned Fernando threatened to do what they do in Ecuador. They tell the children scary stories so that they are afraid to get out of bed. Hmm...I like it. Lacey Grace was downright terrified at the very mention of such an idea and may never trust Fernando, one of the nicest men I know, again. When it was time to go, Ryan, one of their teenagers asked to stay a little longer. The ultimate compliment - a teenager wanting to spend more time with a middle-aged couple and their young family. All of our children said as we were getting ready for bed that night by lantern light, "That was so much fun!" I couldn't agree more.
Favorite quote from Francis Lizotte, a devout Catholic on the issue of me not having developed film with pictures of him that he was eager to see, spoken with deep disappointment and with courage, "That's alright. I'm gracious, generous and merciful." Thank goodness because I still have some mission film I need to develope.
We had a tremendous rainstorm yesterday. No thunder or lightning, just steady rain all day long. In the evening we invited some friends over for chowder and cornbread. The Garcia family from our branch are good friends with whom Jay and I can practice our Spanish with no fear of scorn or mortification (I'm the only one who need worry about scorn and mort - Jay can still hold his own quite nicely). Also in attendance was out good friend, Francis Lizotte, who is a mentally challenged fellow about Jay's age whom our family has adopted. We had a nice dinner and later Jay and Fernando (Garcia father) left to take Francis back home. While they were gone the electricity went out and we were plunged into pitch blackness. Because this is not a terribly rare occasion I knew exactly where the flashlight was and we all cozied up in the family room. Cozying up anywhere in our house is easy because we don't have a single room in our entire house as big as JeNeale's master bathroom not including shower and closet. I brought out a fairy tale book that my mom used to read from when I was a child and we read in the dark The Six Travelers, Thick-Headed Jack, and The Twelve Dancing Princesses. When the daddies returned Fernando threatened to do what they do in Ecuador. They tell the children scary stories so that they are afraid to get out of bed. Hmm...I like it. Lacey Grace was downright terrified at the very mention of such an idea and may never trust Fernando, one of the nicest men I know, again. When it was time to go, Ryan, one of their teenagers asked to stay a little longer. The ultimate compliment - a teenager wanting to spend more time with a middle-aged couple and their young family. All of our children said as we were getting ready for bed that night by lantern light, "That was so much fun!" I couldn't agree more.
Favorite quote from Francis Lizotte, a devout Catholic on the issue of me not having developed film with pictures of him that he was eager to see, spoken with deep disappointment and with courage, "That's alright. I'm gracious, generous and merciful." Thank goodness because I still have some mission film I need to develope.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Don't give up on me
We are back in New Hampshire - home from a wonderful month spent with family and friends in Idaho. I have so much to write about but our internet is currently down and will be until a repairman comes to our home hopefully this week. I look forward to reading your Blogs and will be back online hopefully very soon.
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