Learned and Inherited

My mom has always been a creative woman. I loved to hear her sing, especially the songs she wrote herself. She sang in a bluegrass band with her sister when I was a kid. On practice days, my little sisters and I danced in our living room to the music of the banjo, bass, mandolin, and guitar. That is one of my favorite memories.

Mom also wrote poetry. She usually wrote when she was sad. I still have one of the poems she wrote. She was sitting in the car in the rain, and it was written on the cardboard from a package of those yummy oval-shaped oatmeal cookies we often bought at the "merc." I wish I knew where I could get some of those cookies today.

This is what it said:

We are like raindrops of tears

Rolling down the window...pain...

Reminded of the years, so full of shame

Falling to the ground and waiting for the Son

To pick us up with His love,

And make us all as one. 12-21-1988

I don't think she would mind if I put her poem here. I wanted to share it because I recognize that many of the talents I possess I gained from my mom in one way or another.

I love poetry and music. Before I was a teenager, I saved my babysitting money to buy a $200 Casio keyboard. When I was a young teenager, I taught myself how to read music. My mom bought a used piano for me, and I learned to play hymns on it.

Later, I used the money I earned as a maid at a motel, a Saturday and summer job, to pay for piano lessons. Then I walked to the teacher's house once a week after school. My foster family paid for my lessons after I moved in with them.

They were also musical. I loved to sing Christmas songs with them, in four-part harmony. I started singing in the church choir when I was twelve years old. Over the years, I have sung in various choirs. There were times the music made such an impact on me, I felt I would never be the same as before. When I thank God for my blessings, music is always on the list. It has the power to strengthen me when other things have no power. God knew this about me. I'm glad He planted me where He did.

There Is No End to Love

It is hard to believe it has been more than ten years since my wedding day. That was a happy day for me. There is a page in one of my daughter's books that shows Cinderella looking at the palace from her window, dreaming of that "someday" when her prince would come. It reminds me of my first twenty years. Every time I saw the temple, I looked forward to going there someday to be married.

It was more wonderful and more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. The morning sunlight that flowed through the temple windows felt so warm, and it seemed to make everyone glow. The love of parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and very dear friends surrounded us as we knelt across the altar from each other. We made promises to each other and promises to God. We listened as the sealer told of the blessings that would come because of that holy union. Then we kissed a simple kiss (our mothers were watching!), but it was a sweet kiss, and it was a special kiss because it was our first as husband and wife.

The more I know about the world, the more I realize how miraculous our innocence was. We each gave our first kiss to each other, and in a society where virginity is usually lost by teenagers, we still had ours at the ages of twenty and twenty-five, to be given to each other in marriage.

I still think of our first date with fondness. He was so shy. I was so immature. He was so handsome. I was so thin! We dated for two and a half years before we got married. Unfortunately, there were thorns with the roses. A lot of people thought we shouldn’t marry because we were so different from each other. Some said he was too good for me. Others said I was too good for him. I almost gave up, but losing him felt worse than losing favor with family and friends.

We promised each other before we were married that divorce would never be an option for us. We vowed we would never speak of it, not even in jest. Through the years, we have shared and loved, fought and cried. We have lost together, prayed together, laughed together, and dreamed together. And after years of longing, we had children together.

There were times I wondered if they had been right. Maybe I deserved someone who was more kind. I’m sure there were times when he wondered if he deserved someone more competent. Thankfully, we have both come to know that we deserve each other, and our children deserve parents who love each other unselfishly. So we try. Most of the time we succeed, and I pray it will be enough to carry us through the eternities.

I’ve spent a lot of time with him, but I still want more. I’ve thought of him more than anyone or anything else for almost half my life, but I still like to think about him more than anything else. I guess that’s how it is when you are family and you love each other. And it makes sense that it would be that way if we plan to be married forever, right?

I wrote a poem for him for our anniversary. He understands calculus, but not poetry. So it is a simple poem, but I think it says it all. I gave it to him with a picture of us on our wedding day.

They say we are as night and day

And they are right–

Yet I only long for you to stay

With me day and night.

They say we are as black and white

And I look back–

But all was right with me in white

And you in black.

Full Circle

When I was a baby, my parents and I lived in a single-wide trailer. My earliest memory is of the first night-cry of my baby sister, born in the room at the end of the hall. I was three and a half.

My dad was making bricks for an adobe house from the dirt that was on our one acre of land. When I was about four, we moved into the new house. I still remember the day my old house drove away. I stood in the yard and watched it go: my first home.

Twenty years later, my husband and I ordered a manufactured home to put on our half acre of land. On the day of arrival, I was helping a friend in a neighboring town when I saw my new home pass by. With excitement, I jumped into our truck and followed it, taking pictures as I drove. As they backed it in, I recalled that childhood day when my house drove away, and how then my new home was driving in. I thought that was a full circle moment.
Six years later, we put our home up for sale so we could relocate for my husband’s career. As I packed our belongings, I kept thinking about how much I had loved that house. It was the first home that was our very own. It was the place where I took my tiny baby daughters home from the hospital. Then one last time we knelt together in a circle in the family room (with nothing left in it but my family) and thanked God for the sweet memories made there. As we drove away, my four-year-old and I waving, “Good-bye, House! We love you,” I realized that was really the full circle moment.

Mission Impossible

I read a blog post that reminded me so much of myself, I had to write my own version:

In the late afternoon, when I have finally taken a shower (because my two babies are napping), and have dressed and made the bed (sometimes), I make a goal to put my house in order. I start with the laundry, but while I’m there I realize the toilets really need to be cleaned (yes, there is a toilet in my laundry room). So I set out with the toilet brush and Ajax, but in the second bathroom I find that the trash needs to be emptied (it has a smelly diaper in it). I take the garbage outside to the trash can and notice the weeds in the flower bed. Because the babies are still asleep and my five-year-old is playing on the laptop (Go PBS Kids! Or is it PBS Kids GO!?), I decide to weed a 12-inch section. After 6 inches, my stomach starts growling and I remember, LUNCH. So I go in to eat leftovers at the computer. I am answering emails long after my food is gone when I hear a baby crying. Nap time is over. Mission NOT accomplished.