Preserving Memories

I'm not sure why, but I've been on a canning kick lately.  It's something my grandma taught me when I was a little girl.  The last month of summer always meant jars and hot water baths and that satisfying little "pop".  It also meant peeling and chopping the never-ending supply of fruit and vegetables they grew.  My grandma's gardens were ENORMOUS!!!  Or, at least they seemed to reach into forever to my little eyes.

Perhaps, part of my canning kick has been due to a desire for those simpler days.  Days when my biggest concern was how many peaches I could eat before Grandma shooed me out of the orchard, or how many hummingbirds I could catch.  Oh yes, I was quite the hummer catcher. Built cages for them and everything.  

Perhaps the another cause for my kick are my winter memories - opening one of those jars I worked so hard on, smelling and tasting a bit of summer during the dreary cold months.  

No matter the cause, my family has certainly not been complaining about my latest craze.  I've put up more jars of jam than I care to count at the moment - apricot, apricot berry, peach, peach berry, and pear berry.  Almost all of the fruit came from either friends' trees or local orchards.  Their over abundance became my blessing.  

I looked online for recipes, then quickly realized that I was just going to do what Grandma did - throw it all in a pot, then add ingredients until it tasted good.

Each jar that "pops" reminds me of those treasured days with my grandma - days that seemed so ordinary then but are precious now.  I pray my girls have lots of those days to treasure when they're my age.

Suzie Homemaker Fail

I have accomplished nothing in the last 3 1/2 hours. 


My children slept that long.  Please don't hate me.


I took the opportunity to read blogs.  And fill my Amazon wish list with new books for my kindle (hint hint Handsome Realtor Man).  And fill my cheap random crap Oriental Trading shopping cart with bribery rewards and other such nonsense for school time.


And do nothing.


This morning, total Proverbs 31 woman.


That is, after the kids and I got up.  At 9.  Please don't hate me.  We totally wore them out with the random trip of chaos this weekend (more on that tomorrow), so we were all exhausted.


But, this morning, I unpacked from the trip, got caught up on the laundry, helped the kids sort their toys and books into Keep, Give Away, and Toss piles (Love that my children willingly and joyfully give their possessions away.  Disturbed that the toys seem to be procreating of their own volition.), and found more treasures for my china cabinet.  Oh yeah, I haven't mentioned the china cabinet yet, have I?


When my dad came home from Vietnam, he decided to go to college on the GI bill down in a little town called Durango.  Needing a job, he began working at a little furniture shop on Main called Wilson's Furniture.  Mr. and Mrs. Wilson became, over time, a second set of parents for my dad.  They provided much wisdom and support over the years. 


The first piece of furniture my mom and dad purchased for my grandparents was from Wilson's.  It was a beautiful dark wood and glass china cabinet.  I don't remember my grandmas house without that cabinet.  It always held the good dishes, the fancy cups, the cake topper from their 50th wedding anniversary.  Memories. 


I can close my eyes and picture where it was in this house.  I have never known my life at her house without it.


After my grandma passed away, my dad, aunts, and uncles have slowly been going through her house.  Sorting, separating, divvying up.  It has been hard, emotional work.  When my dad asked me if I would like her cabinet, there was no way I could say no.


The beautiful cabinet, with so many memories, now proudly sits in my living room.  My own good china, purchased by my parents when I was a baby, is proudly displayed on the top shelf.  My grandmas tea cups, and that precious cake topper, is now on the second.  I am eager to fill it with our familys treasures. 


But now, the children have awoken from their marathon nap, Handsome Realtor Man is home for a few hours before his softball game, dinner needs fixing (gotta love leftovers), and I must redeem myself for these last few hours. 


But, sometimes, its good to fail. 

Saying Goodbye

Sunday afternoon and evening was spent at my parents ranch.

My sister and niece are in town from Georgia.

My sweet grandma (here holding Katrina on her first Christmas)

was not doing well.

In truth, they thought she was going to die before Easter last year.  And yet, here she was.

But this time, it felt different.

For weeks, she had been telling my dad, uncle, and aunt that she was ready to go.  That she saw Grandpa in her dreams.  That she was trying to get to him, but could not.

She was ready to go.  But, for some reason, held on.

Back to Sunday night.

We left my moms house and headed down the driveway towards home.  As we approached my grandmas house, I saw my uncle catching a breath of fresh air on the front porch.  Now, the unwritten family tradition states that, when driving past Grandmas house on the way home, if someone is outside, you honk, wave, and head home.  No need to stop.

Except that night.  I just could not drive past my uncle.  I got out and talked with my uncle for a bit.  And I knew it was a divine appointment.  He needed to talk, to work out his grief, to hug, to cry.  We both did.

After a few minutes, we went into the house so I could kiss Grandma goodnight.  I had not seen my grandma since Christmas.  She has been steadily declining each week, and every time we were at the ranch she was sleeping. 

There was still a glimpse of my grandma in those clouded, pain-filled eyes.  I told her about sharing her beadwork with the children at church, and the joy they found in her treasures.  I told her about Katrina getting her first hit in baseball, and dancing all the way to first.  She tried to laugh, tried to react.  But the combination of intense pain and morphine overrode her efforts.  But I still saw the glimmer in her eyes.

I kissed her goodnight and told her I loved her.  I helped my uncle place the washcloth back over her eyes, hugged him, and got back in the car.

At 4 AM, she passed peacefully from this world.  She was greeted by her husband of 72 years, her son who died of lung cancer when I was a child, her son who died as an infant, and her savior. 

I rejoice that she is finally home.  I mourn because she isnt here.  I rejoice because she lived 96 amazing years.  I mourn because they do not seem enough.

Today, I gathered with almost the entire family.  She and my grandpa had:

6 children

19 grandchildren

46 great grandchildren

16 great-great grandchildren

4 great-great-great grandchildren

That is quite the family tree.

So today, we took her favorite flowers, the poppy

and the Indian Paintbrush

and laid them to rest with her body and the love of her life.

We laughed, we cried, we sang.

We remembered all the funny stories.

We tried to remember everyones names (trust me, its hard with that many cousins).

And we said goodbye.

Puppet Shows and Fat Lips

Well, today started well. 

The girls let us sleep till 8:30 (please don't hate me).

We headed in for a special breakfast/brunch at our favorite restaurant.

And they all got hot chocolate.  Happy day!

We took a side trip to the fish store to say hi to Nemo and Dorey.

Then, on to the library for a refresh on the bedtime stories and a puppet show.

After the library, we went to see Grandma, just to say hi.

And that's when all heck broke loose.

Violet loves the antique silver tea set that Pepe has.  She plays with it constantly. 

She was carrying the goblet when she missed the little slope up from the tile floor to the wood floor, and fell on her lip. 

The goblet decided that lodging itself between her lip and upper gum was a good idea.

And Jerome got to try to catch the streams of blood shooting out of her lip.

Not even exaggerating in the least - streams.

Violet freaked out, Daddy freaked out, the sisters freaked out.

I was stripping her in a desperate but futile attempt to save her beautiful little dress. 

Grandma found every towel in the house.

Once the bleeding stopped, Grandma/former nurse took a look at the inside of her lip and thought we should get it checked out.  If Grandma says we should go, we know its rough. 

Needless to say, Violet was not a willing participant in the photo op.

The Dr. at the ER took a look and determined that, while nasty, her cut did not need stitches.  But, you know that little ridge of skin in between your lip and gum?  Hers will probably not grow back.  That darn goblet sliced it clear off.  But, the goblet broke in half during the fall, so at least they're even.  And Violets attitude definitely improved when the nurse suggested ice cream to help with the swelling.

Does anyone know of a toddler Mick Jagger lookalike contest?

Is My House Somewhere Under Here?

Our Christmas was peaceful, serene, almost idyllic.














And then the children woke up.




The next few hours were filled with *gasp* sugar before breakfast, mounds of wrapping paper, clothes flying from every which direction, squeals of delight, and general mayhem and chaos.  I have no clue who got what for my kids.  All I know is that they are ridiculously spoiled.




The night before, we set out treats for Santa, even though my kids know he is pretend.  Sometimes, its still fun to pretend.  Except when Madi refused to sleep in the living room because Papa told her that Santa was going to come while she was sleeping.  Thanks, Dad.  Score one for the "Let's not make a big deal out of Santa" team. 




My mother got my children cameras.  I was forced to erase the internal memory in them at least 3 times Christmas Day.  I have a prolific paparazzi, apparently.  We will be featuring three little guest photographers, as soon as I can find my computer and the cords under all this stuff.  Be on the lookout for a lot of photos of my knees. 




We got to spend some time with my grandma.  We didn't think we would have this Christmas with her.  But, as the hospice nurse has told us, her body can, apparently, survive on pure stubbornness alone.  Grandma was too weak to open her presents, so Violet offered to help.  The joy of a 3 year old opening presents combined with the joy of a 95 year old watching her great-granddaughter is priceless. 




Somehow, we fit everything into our minivan rocketship.  Well, everything except the rocking chair for the littles, wine goblets from my other grandma, a beautiful lamp from my aunt, and the behemoth stainless steel man grill of happiness from my parents.  Those got to take a special trip to our house in the back of Dad's truck.




And then, we got home.  And Christmas threw up in my house. 




And, I would much rather snuggle my babies (well, the two who got sick on Christmas anyways) than clean.  I have to go get memory cards for the girls' cameras, especially so that Kat & I won't have to share.  Because I appreciated the 347 photos of her toes, and my mom's butt, and the ceiling. 




I guess I could clean the house and declutter after the kids go to bed.  But my Christmas present to myself was Big Game Hunter for the Wii we bought as a family, and getting that mountain lion is way higher on my priority list than laundry. 




I promise, the next post will have photos.  But not of the Christmas regurgitation that is my living room.

Thankful Thursday: Precious Moments

Easter this year was bittersweet. For those of you who don't know, my grandma is not doing well. It seems like forever ago that we took this photo. It was Christmas morning, only 3 months. And yet so much has changed.

My grandma is simply amazing. She homesteaded with her husband to Monticello, UT, leaving everything she knew behind. She raised their children with a firm, but fun and fair hand. She helped her husband build a successful mining and ranching business. She was industrious, hard working, wise. But with an awesome sense of humor!






One year on April Fool's Day, she put cotton balls in the biscuits. Poor Grandpa fell for it, trying his best to eat Grandma's weird biscuits, not knowing that he had cotton hanging down his chin!


Since Christmas this year, her health has gone downhill. She is 95, and has lung & heart issues, but we didn't expect her to decline as fast as she has. We never know what kind of day it will be. Some days, like Sunday, she seems normal, herself. She talks to us, remembers what we are doing. Other days, it's like she isn't even there. There have been days that her caretakers (we have 24-hr live-in assistants for her) have a very difficult time waking her up. We also found out this week that her kidneys have begun to shut down.





Her body is simply done. And she is ready to go. Each time we have seen her lately, it is like she is trying to express to my kids how much she loves them, how proud she is of them. She is trying, in her way, to say goodbye. And it breaks my heart. I know Katrina will have precious memories of her Old Grandma, but I'm not so sure about Madi & Violet.




I have been in turmoil these past months. You see, after I accepted Christ, I tried to talk to her about it. But she was never willing to. I was able to talk to Grandpa before he died, when his mind was still there, for lack of a better phrase. That conversation reassured me that when my Poppa took his last earthly breaths, Jesus was waiting to greet him. But Grandma would never talk to me.





Jerome spent many nights holding me these past few weeks as I have sobbed, terrified. I had seen glimpses in the last year that perhaps, maybe, she had accepted Christ. But I honestly could not trust our conversations. Mentally, most of the time she is not there. So I never knew if it really was my grandma talking, or a delusion brought on by her illness.





Last Friday our church had a special worship service. It was amazing. Honestly, it felt so good to just be able to lay all of my burdens down and simply enjoy God's company. And that's what I was doing. I wasn't thinking about anything, wasn't worrying about anything. I was just being.


The worship team began to play this song. To hear it, make sure you mute the music at the bottom of the page first:










All of a sudden, God gave me a vision. He gave me a glimpse into Heaven. Please understand, I am not one to receive a vision on a regular basis. Maybe once or twice have I seen something in my mind that I have known was from Daddy. And this came so suddenly, from so far out in left field, that it could only be from Him.





I saw Heaven. I saw Jesus and my grandpa standing there, just talking. Grandpa had his thumbs hooked into the pockets of his jeans. And then they reached out for someone. It was my grandma. She had taken her last earthly breath, and was being welcomed by her husband and her Husband into eternity. It was so joyful, so peaceful. There the three of them stood, arm in arm, together. And then it was gone.





And then I heard my Daddy say to me, "Don't worry child. She is mine."





Needless to say, the rest of the evening was spent in tears, using the entire church stock of Kleenex. My Daddy cares enough about me to reassure me, to comfort me. When I hugged my grandma on Sunday night, it was peaceful, serene. I knew she was trying to say goodbye, but it was ok. I know when she takes her last breath here, with us, that she will be welcomed into eternity by the love of her life and the lover of her soul. And that is enough for me.





So you ask, what am I thankful for today? I am thankful for a grandma who taught me so much. Who loved me so much. I am thankful for a Savior who comforts and reassures. I am thankful for a life well-lived. I am thankful for a family that treasures every last moment with an amazing lady. And I am thankful for a promise.