stop this train

It's hard for me to wrap my mind around the fact that nearly three weeks have passed since Charlotte's wedding day. We planned, shopped, cooked, and sewed--anticipating the event for so long (well, six months)--and suddenly it's over.

I loved every minute of Wedding Week. There is very little, if anything, I would change or do differently. Thanks in large measure to the generosity and kindness of so many good friends and dear family members, my daughter's wedding was everything I had dreamed it would be. And Charlotte herself was the most easy-going, easy-to-please bride you could ever hope to meet. The entire experience was everything a wedding should be, and for that I am grateful.

I felt initially overwhelmed at the thought of blogging about it all. But now that both Charlotte and Michelle have done such fantastic jobs of summarizing the event, I'll just link to their blogs and you'll get a great overall feel for the occasion. I'll use my blog to try to record my feelings as a first-time MoB.

First off, I simply must state the obvious and somewhat trite sentiment (though so, so real): it just doesn't seem that long ago that Charlotte was the little girl in this picture, dressed to match her younger sister Emily.

Wood family, circa 1995 (Photos by Karen Rubin)

Thankfully, we did change somewhat after this first official Wood family portrait taken in the early '90's. Denim shirt buttoned all the way to the top--fuchsia striped jumpsuit buttoned all the way up? What was I thinking?!

Wood family, circa 1992 (photo by Karen Rubin)

Somehow, you think that--once you have all your kids--it's like, Ta-dum! This is my family--this is how it will always be. Wood family, circa 1998 (Photo by Barbie Jarvis)

And for a while, it is. School milestones, birthdays, holidays and the like come and go in a rather comfortable, cyclical sort of way.

Wood family, circa 2000 (Photo by Paula Woellhaf)

Yes, hairstyles and clothing trends change along the way, but this is our family: four kids--three girls and a boy. My family will always be this way.

Wood family, circa 2004 (Photo by Paula Woellhaf)

And then, before you're even aware of what is happening, the milestones start getting bigger--graduation from high school, acceptance into college, graduation from college. And before you know it, your little girl in the plaid taffeta jumper is wearing high heels and falling in love.

And here's the thing: I wouldn't want it any other way. She has done everything in the right order--she has a fantastically bright future ahead with limitless possibilities. It's what I really want for her, and yet--just for a moment--I wish I could "Stop This Train, I want to get off and go home again."

Wood family, redefined, October 22, 2010 (photo by Michelle Olivier)

I guess it really is all about defining a new "normal." And, as John Mayer so aptly states, "Don't stop this train, don't for a minute change the place you're in." I wouldn't change a thing.

stayin' alive

I’m not sure how or when it got to be September, or what exactly happened to June, July, and August, but here I am—still alive, despite rumors to the contrary. Here is a brief (and mostly pictorial) recap of my summer:

Exhibit A: Family Road Trip

June took us to southern Alberta to celebrate my darling father-in-law's 80th birthday. (He's in the back row--the one in the hat.)

Really, what can be better than hanging out with cousins?

I was fascinated by the beautiful colors and textures of the rocks in Waterton Lake.
They are the same colors as many of the walls in my house!

(I took this picture for you, Susan.)
The water was freezing, but oh-so clear and refreshing!

Exhibit B: Back to the Mundane

These table cloths are waiting patiently on my project table to be ironed. My mother used to iron all my table cloths for me, so this ever-growing pile stands as an ever-present reminder of how much I miss her.

Exhibit C: Wedding Planner

Nearly every square inch of my basement is covered in wedding-related items--that is, the part of the basement that's not covered in laundry and ironing.

There are the boxes full of decorations and custom-made aprons,

the boxes full of wedding-guest gift basket goodies waiting to be assembled in a cute and alluring presentation, and . . .

. . . then there's Exhibit C1: Sewing, Sewing, and MORE SEWING!

The summer began with a very large drapery project (pictured, in part, above). Five dresses, one skirt, one jacket, and two table cloths later I still haven't made a MOB (mother-of-the-bride) dress that's fit to be seen in public. I've decided to play it safe and go with my favorite dress pattern, made this time in an iridescent silk taffeta (vermilion and pink tones).

Sewing yet-to-be-completed: three skirts, one MOB dress, one temple dress (possibly to be remade in better, more comfortable fabric), and seven decorator pillows (the latter of which are for clients--not for me).

Exhibit D: New (actually quite old) furniture found on Craig's List!

It's amazing what the thought of having company will do to open your eyes to the atrocities around your house. My sun room furniture, some 21 years old, had been recovered once and was looking a little worse for the wear. I found these two pieces on Craig's List. I won't be able to have them recovered before the wedding, but believe me--they're much cuter and in better shape than what I had. You'll just have to trust me on this one.

Exhibit E: Canadian Family Vacation Reversal

In August the O'Brien's (Linda is one of Mark's lovely sisters) came to our house for a visit, bringing Mark's dad Kay along. We had four days of shopping, game-playing, shopping, and--did I say shopping? We also enjoyed a cookout in the mountains, FHE around the Sunday dinner table, and we threw in a Donut Night for good measure.

Exhibit F: Families Really are Forever
While going through some of my mother's belongings, I came across her current temple recommend. It doesn't expire until the end of September. I love knowing that--at the age of 83--my mother died the worthy bearer of a temple recommend.

Exhibit G: Sarah Turns 12!

I can't believe my baby turned twelve on September 4th. We had a fun-filled day on Saturday and she was so excited to attend Young Women for the first time on Sunday.

I think that Mom is really helping me out on the cake-making front. Sarah's chocolate cake with yellow-tinted White Mountain frosting was one of my better efforts.

Exhibit H: Back to School
Emily is back in Provo and Charlotte moved to Portland to start job-hunting. *sigh* Thank goodness I still have Sarah and John at home to keep things interesting!

six for saturday

1) This is the laundry pile that greeted me this morning. My dryer can't quite keep up with the washer, so the entire process takes a bit longer. Now it's 7 p.m. and I'm not quite half-way through it (all of the white fluffy stuff on the floor is costume laundry from the show--yes, I realize the show closed over six weeks ago).

2) Sarah has another sore throat, not sure if it's strep, but I think her tonsils are going to have to come out. She has been getting sick about once every month or six weeks. This is the pile of Puffs left in her wake. I can't seem to convince her that she can use each tissue for more than one wipe of the nose.

3) We took the car in today for a pre-road-trip diagnostic check. Mark says it runs sluggish when accelerating. I think only men (at least in my family) can hear car noises; as long as it starts and the A/C works, I think everything's fine. It turns out it needs new spark plugs and the fuel lines flushed. Who knew?

I like our local mechanic, Dustin. He owns the Lube and Latte.

4) John went on a Boy Scout camp out last night. They hiked into the campsite with all of their gear. This is John before he left on Friday afternoon (note Sarah's paper chain bedroom door curtain in the background--her own design):

And this is where his stuff got dropped this afternoon before he crashed for a nap on his bed:

5) I savored the last piece of my birthday cake (it had been patiently waiting for me in the freezer) which was a little more emotional than usual since it was the last cake my mother ever made. If I had known that when I had written the description on the Ziplock bag I certainly would not have added the exclamation point!

6) My dad generously took us all to Red Robin for dinner tonight. He and Mom used to like to go there for fish and chips regularly. They would always share an order, finding it to be just the right amount.

Tonight I shared the order with him.

tender mercies

As I resume the routines of my life, defining a new "normal" without the steadfast presence of my mother, I confess I have been somewhat daunted in approaching my first post-funeral blog post. Michelle, Jessie, Susan, Emily, Charlotte, and Claire have done so in ways that are at once moving and comforting. I find it a bit overwhelming, however, to try to recount and capture all of my feelings of the past two weeks so I have decided instead to focus on the "tender mercies" of the past two weeks--those gifts that the Lord has given me throughout this sad time to buoy me up and reaffirm that I am loved by Him and that He is mindful of my needs.

A few years ago (well, five to be exact) Elder Bednar gave a Conference talk I have never forgotten titled The Tender Mercies of the Lord. In it he quotes a scripture from the Book of Mormon, 1 Nephi 1:20:

"But behold, I, Nephi, will show unto you that the tender mercies of the Lord are over all those whom he hath chosen, because of their faith, to make them mighty even unto the power of deliverance.” Elder Bednar goes on to say, ". . I testify that the tender mercies of the Lord are real and that they do not occur randomly or merely by coincidence."

Mother always said that gratitude was the least stressful emotion to experience, and I have found this to be instrumental in my grieving process. When I feel empty and sad I need only start listing the Tender Mercies shown me to feel better. Here are some with which I have been blessed over the past two weeks:

• Mother didn't linger with disability or suffer long. I know without doubt that this is the way she ultimately wanted to go.

• My birthday was just three days before her collapse. I spent the entire day with her, shopping, cooking, and doing the things we loved to do together. She made a German Chocolate cake that was nearly 6" tall--my favorite kind of cake and her best ever.

• She died in the Spring--Easter weekend to be exact, reminding us all of the gift of the Atonement and resurrection. I'm so grateful that my first months without her will be full of bright sunny days and budding life outside. I'm also glad to have several months of adjustment before I have to face my first-ever holiday season without her.

• I was out of town when she collapsed and went to the hospital. While this may not necessarily seem like a good thing, in retrospect I am so grateful that I was with my dear sister Susan when we got the news that she would not live. There was nothing I could have done (more than was already being done) to help or save her had I been here, and having the strength of my sister's love was such a comfort.

• Although we had no idea where one of my sisters has been living in the Denver area, we were able to locate her in time for her to see Mother before she died and to all be present at the time of Mother's death.

• I have friends who would do--and have done--anything I've asked or needed of them, at the time that I really needed it. I am incredibly humbled to be the recipient of so much compassionate service, so freely and lovingly given.

• The day Mother died in hospice care her nurse just happened to be one of my good friends from high school--someone who knew what a beautiful, gracious, and kind woman Mother was.

• I have always said that if either of my parents died tomorrow, my kids would have firmly-grounded memories of them as an everyday part of their lives. Because we have been privileged to live near my parents for the past 21 years, my children will carry many fond and happy memories of their Grandma.

• I have no regrets in my relationship with my mother.

• When Susan and I went to select flowers for the casket arrangement and luncheon tables, we were told we could come back the day before the service to pick out the luncheon flowers and glass containers. When we arrived to do so, no one had any idea what we were talking about and the wholesale part of the florist--the part we needed--was closed. Miraculously--and I mean miraculously--we got what we needed anyway.

• Mother was buried in a military cemetery (my Dad served in the Navy). The "graveside" service was actually held in a glassed-in pavilion and when it was over I felt somewhat disconcerted to drive off leaving my mother's casket behind. The funeral director drove us past the place where Mother's grave was being prepared so we would know where to look for it the next time we came. We parked for minute to note the location in the cemetery. As we sat in the car looking on, we noticed an arrangement of flowers being pulled out of the back of a black van parked near the newly-dug grave. They looked a lot like Mother's flowers, but no--we thought, that couldn't possibly be hers. Then workers pulled a beautiful pecan casket out of the van and placed it on the scaffolding above the grave. It was indeed Mother's casket and we got to see it being lowered into the ground. I have no idea how the arrival of Mother's casket to the graveside preceded ours, but it was a gift of closure and peace--to me, but especially to my father--to witness its descent into the newly-turned earth.

• As I sat down to begin writing this post this morning, I found this treat that had been left in my carry-on bag from my trip home from Philadelphia:

Again, quoting Elder Bednar:

"We should not underestimate or overlook the power of the Lord’s tender mercies. The simpleness, the sweetness, and the constancy of the tender mercies of the Lord will do much to fortify and protect us in the troubled times in which we do now and will yet live. When words cannot provide the solace we need or express the joy we feel, when it is simply futile to attempt to explain that which is unexplainable, when logic and reason cannot yield adequate understanding about the injustices and inequities of life, when mortal experience and evaluation are insufficient to produce a desired outcome, and when it seems that perhaps we are so totally alone, truly we are blessed by the tender mercies of the Lord and made mighty even unto the power of deliverance." (see 1 Ne. 1:20)

Today I give thanks for the Lord's tender mercies.

using technology to my advantage

After spending the greater part of the past three days in the hospital and on the telephone (or so it seems) I have chosen--at Charlotte's suggestion--to update my family on my mother's health via blogging. Ah--the wonders of the modern age!

Mom came home from the hospital late this afternoon, after a three-day/two-night stay. She arrived at the Emergency Room early Sunday afternoon via ambulance (her second trip to the ER in two days) to be treated for intense pelvic pain and also heart pain. Our first trip on Friday morning was rather unproductive. I highly recommend arriving by ambulance and having heart trauma if you want to move to the front of the ER queue and be treated in a timely manner.

After x-rays and an MRI, all the "bad" things have been ruled out, i.e., cancerous growths, infection, etc. Thankfully, surgery is not the recommended course of treatment for mom, as I don't think she could stand to go through another major surgery. Of course, neither do I think she could stand to continue living in the extreme, intense pain she has been in. While in the hospital she was treated with high-end pain killers and muscle relaxants and was completely immobile in bed. She feels much better now, though still in a bit of pain and rather worn out.

The primary care doctor is referring us to a Pain Specialist (I didn't know there were such titled doctors--shouldn't they all be pain specialists?) who is also an anesthesiologist. He will likely administer an epidural dose of cortisone, which is proven effective in treating her type of pain. I have made the necessary calls to get this plan in motion and am waiting to hear from her cardiologist, who also has to sign off on the plan. Hopefully she will receive this treatment sometime next week. Meanwhile, with adequate rest and medication (not to mention the replacement of the hideous hospital gown with cute satin pajamas) she will hopefully be moderately comfortable until then.

As always, her spirits are good, her attitude upbeat, and her humor in-tact. She was a popular patient on her floor. Dad is the most relieved to have her home, as he seems quite lost without her constant presence.

I actually had the presence of mind to pack along my camera this morning to the hospital, planning to take a few photos for documentation purposes. I took a picture of her sweet, gnarled little hands with the IV inserted--for a melodramatic effect. I was then planning to follow with a picture--at home--of Mom and Dad's hands together, as they are often to be found holding hands for comfort's sake. Sadly (very, very sadly) when I was packing up her belongings today in the hospital room and heading down to bring Dad's car around to pick her up, I found--much to my horrified dismay--that the almost-full water bottle I had tossed into my my purse at the last minute did not have the lid fastened on tightly. The entire contents of my large black-patent bag were soaked through, including my camera, which now flickers and sputters when turned on. I just can't talk about that any more right now.

I'll keep you posted on her progress. Thanks for all your love and prayers--I really appreciate the strength I feel from you and I know Mom does, too.

the aftermath

This box of Puffs was nearly full when I brought it up to our hotel room last night. After saying our goodbyes, this was the pile left by Charlotte, Emily, and me.

This is a view out of the car window of the weather that welcomed us back to Colorado for the last half of our trip today. Very appropriate, considering my state of mind.

That box of Puffs is now nearly empty.