one year ago today

March 28, 2010 was the last time I had a coherent conversation with my mother. I was with my sister Susan in Pennsylvania; I had arrived the day prior (a Saturday) to celebrate Susan's birthday with her. We called Mom after church on Sunday, the 28th, to tell her about our fun shopping day together the day before. We told her about our birthday purchases, talked about what we were making for dinner, and what we were planning to do the next day--all of the everyday details we so enjoyed sharing. Mom said she hadn't felt like going to church that day, saying that she was just oddly tired and didn't feel well. I expressed my concern, said my usual I-Love-You goodbye, and hung up after promising to call again tomorrow.

The next morning my mother suffered a massive cerebral hemorrhage. Later that evening I was told over the phone by her attending physician that there was nothing more that could be done to save her and that I should get home as soon as possible if I wanted to see my mother before she died. She never regained consciousness. By the time Susan and I arrived home the following day, plans had been made to move Mom to hospice, where she died two days later.

As the anniversary of my mother's death approaches, I feel anew the sharp pain of missing her steadfast physical presence in my life. I long to talk to her about all of the things we used to share, and I can't tell you the number of times I've wanted to phone heaven for a quick answer to a recipe question.

In thinking about how I want to remember or mark the anniversary of her death, I remember that Mom always thought that spending ponderous time at a graveside was rather pointless and overly-sentimental (she was not the sentimental type). So--while I do plan to visit her grave and leave flowers (despite the fact that I can hear her in my mind saying, "Oh Honey, you don't need to bother with that!") I have decided that the best way I can honor her passing is to give service. Mom was always looking for ways to serve others. Even in her later years, with failing eyesight and aching joints, she would bake treats for her neighbors and friends, and for me. She was the true embodiment of the Relief Society motto, Charity Never Faileth.

On April 1st I'll be making homemade bread, using one of my mother's favorite recipes, and delivering it to people who might need a little cheer. I love you, Mom.

Happy Birthday CJP!

Today is my mother's birthday. She would have been 84. It's hard for me to believe that six months have already passed since her death. This is the first time in twenty-one years that I have celebrated her birthday without her (that's how long we've lived in Denver). But I decided that today should be a day of celebration, and not one of sadness.

My dad and I went to Sam's Club first thing this morning and bought a beautiful bouquet of Fall flowers. We picked up my sister Karen and her husband Daniel and drove to the cemetery to decorate Mother's grave. The day is bright and sunny, with just a hint of Fall crispness in the air.

After taking a few photos at the graveside we went to a favorite place to have breakfast: the Sunrise Sunset Cafe, a mom-and-pop establishment that serves tasty home-cooked goodness. We enjoyed being together and we like to think that Mom would have liked the excursion as well.

Now I'm home for the afternoon and plan to bake a cake in her honor, an idea Emily and I had separately and simultaneously. I still haven't decided what kind for sure, but I'm leaning toward the family favorite of Chocolate Cake with White Mountain Frosting.

This photo was taken one year ago, on her 83rd birthday. I was trying to remember what I gave her for her birthday last year and can't seem to recall. What I have come to realize, however, is that even in death my mother continues to give gifts to me--the gift of her enduring wisdom, wit, and expertise--and most importantly, the gift of her faith in and testimony of Jesus Christ.

Thanks, Mom. I love you and miss you, and am so grateful to know that you're not that far away.

Mother's Day, sans Mother

I had been dreading today, Mother's Day, since the day my mother died a little over one month ago. It turns out it wasn't so bad after all. My church meetings were uplifting (as opposed to the sometimes guilt-inducing or overly-sentimental Mother's Day diatribes), and I spent the day with my family--including two of my sisters. After church we drove to Ft. Logan, the cemetery where Mother is buried. We weren't sure if her headstone would be up or not and were pleasantly surprised to find that it was.

Since the graves in Mother's section are all relatively new, they don't yet have sod. Hopefully it won't be long before they do. There is something inherently pleasing to me about the orderly rows of identical headstones in the military cemetery.

Susan arranged a beautiful bouquet of flowers we took to church for the chapel, then came home and rearranged them--from the tall glass vase they were in to a low basket--to decorate the grave (better for not tipping over, should a breeze come up). It was, without doubt, the most stylish arrangement in the entire cemetery and one Mother would definitely love.

My dad held up well today and said that he felt Mother's presence at the graveside. It was a peaceful, happy feeling.

Susan and Fred came from Pennsylvania for the weekend--that's a Mother's Day gift in itself! Susan and I spent Friday and Saturday going through Mother's clothing and personal affects, sorting piles for distribution to family members, friends, etc. There were a few tearful moments, but more laughter and smiles as we reminisced together.

Karen came out for the day (Sunday) and was delighted with the things she received from Mother's stylish bounty! One of the items Mother wanted her to have was her gold wedding band. Dad bought a chain for it so Karen can wear it now without waiting to have it sized.

Mother had designated me as the recipient of her diamond ring, a beautiful ring that to me symbolizes 65 years of committed, loving marriage. My Mother's Day gift was to have the jeweler solder it between my two wedding bands. If you look closely, you can see the ring on my finger in the photo below.

Susan brought along some water to give the arrangement one last drink before we left. (Yes, those are fresh limes in the arrangement!)

Mother's headstone sentiment is a fitting tribute to the live she lived and the way in which she loved us all: Charity Never Faileth.

Today I feel grateful to see my mother's legacy living on in the women in my life, and hopefully in me. I love you, Mom.

Operation: Rejuvenation

I think I look forward to semi-annual Conference weekends more than almost any other event or holiday throughout the year--and not just because of Donut Night.

Last night's batch was pretty fabulous, however. My mom decided to throw a new variety into the mix, chocolate cake donuts:

Yes, they were pretty amazing, as is virtually anything that comes from my mom's kitchen.

As much as I love the donuts, however, they are the least of things I love about this weekend.

I love that the Priesthood holders in my life honor that sacred trust and take their responsibilities seriously. I love that John, who is now 15 1/2 (and, as you can see stands a good 3-4" taller than his dad) never balks at attending a two-hour Priesthood meeting with his dad and grandpa twice-yearly on a Saturday night. He in fact goes with a smile on his face. I love seeing the men I love in their Sunday clothes.

(I love that my dog loves my dad almost as much as I do.)

I love having my sister Patricia here for a visit, and I love that she selflessly did the dishes last night. I had been ironing for about five hours (no exaggeration), then cooking donuts for another hour or so. I was exhausted, but satisfied.

Most of all, I love knowing that the Gospel of Jesus Christ has been restored to the Earth and that I am a part of it. I love knowing that I have a purpose here, I am given direction and guidance, and that the Lord knows me personally and is mindful of my needs. I love knowing that I am sealed to my family for all of eternity. I love knowing that I needn't be afraid in perilous times, I need only hold fast to the Iron Rod and stay true to my faith. I love knowing that other people I love are striving to do the same.

I love knowing that a prophet of God lives on the Earth today and that he receives revelation from God and shares it with us. I love knowing that I find safety and peace in following his counsel. I love General Conference because I am reminded of all of these things and come away strengthened, rejuvenated, and empowered to be a better me.

packaging with punch

I have never noticed this inspiring little tag line on my bulk package of yeast before:

Maybe it's just my new Relief Society mentality, but what a great thought--we rise up and do the job we're supposed to do, enabling others to shine. I like it.

Conference Weekend highlights

For those of you who don't know what Conference Weekend is, it's The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints semi-annual broadcast from Salt Lake City, always held on the first weekends in April and October. There are five sessions total on Saturday and Sunday, two hours each, where our church leaders speak about everything from repentance to personal finance. I look forward to these two weekends each year as a time of personal revelation and growth, as well as a time of family tradition and togetherness. I always come away feeling motivated to be better than I am today, and feel an increased love and appreciation for my Savior Jesus Christ.

I also love the feeling of connected-ness (made up word?) I feel with the other 13 million members of my church, including my loved ones watching in faraway places. I love knowing that we're all hearing the same messages at the same time, having the Holy Spirit bear witness to us of the divinity of Jesus Christ and His love for us.

I can't wait to download the talks to my iPod. I didn't take notes because I was working on Easter sewing projects for Sarah and me (to be documented later). Going from memory--which at 46 isn't what it used to be--the messages that spoke to my heart are, in no particular order:

• Start where you are right now to become a better person. Start now.
• Worshipping in the temple with greater frequency and sincerity will bless me immeasurably.
• Learn to say, "We can't afford it."
• We are so blessed to have a living Prophet of God on the earth today, Thomas S. Monson.
• Don't be afraid of changes in life. Embrace them and work through them with the Savior at your side.
• Fear is the opposite of faith.
• We needn't fear the current climate of economic uncertainty. Hold steadfast to the truth, learn to live providently, and we'll get through it.
  
• Gospel principles remain constant and unchanging in a changing world. Standing firm by them is our sure hope for safety, peace, and happiness.
• It's always fair when you get to choose.
  

We had our traditional Donut Night on Saturday night, after the men's Priesthood session. I love seeing the men I love in their white shirts and ties. John changed out of his Sunday clothes before I could get his picture, and for some reason I didn't think to have him pose with his Dad and Grandpa for this post-Priesthood session shot. I love and appreciate the honorable Priesthood holders in my family and do not take for granted having this power in my home.

Mom decided that she felt well enough to help me make donuts at her house (she's the glazer, you know, but has been sick this past week). Since she's still coughing quite a bit, we didn't invite our usual crowd of friends.

If I do say so myself, it was one of our better batches!

We watched the Sunday afternoon session with my Mom and Dad at their house and had dinner together afterwards.

This photo is for Bella. Sorry honey, but we don't want "another dog." Even Grandpa has a soft spot for Moosey!

Until October, then.

recognizing God's kindness

In a General Conference talk given by Henry B. Eyring in October 2007, he admonished us to reflect upon, recognize, and remember evidence of God's kindness in our everyday lives. I love this talk, especially in light of my word for 2009, and before I go to bed want to record His kindness shown to me today.

I've had a very busy day, leaving the house shortly after 8 a.m. to go to the high school to measure the choir kids for musical costumes. After a couple of hours there, I ran home to pick up a set of plans needed at a jobsite (I work for a custom home builder), then picked up my mom and left for the construction site to deliver said plans. From there we went approximately 20 miles north for a slew of errands, stopping at Marshalls, Homegoods, Capabilities (a store with aids for the blind), Penneys, Lamps Plus, and Hobby Lobby. (Good thing my 82-year-old mother still has shopping stamina!)

I arrived home at 4:30 p.m., just in time to take the kids to their piano lessons, stopping at another store on my way home from dropping them off to make a quick return. After preparing, eating, and cleaning up dinner (by this time about 8:30 p.m.) I ran over to my friend Paula's house (nearby) to borrow a tool needed for framing pictures. We chatted for over an hour (so fun, as we haven't done this for a while) and when I got in my car to leave at 10:15 p.m. it wouldn't start. Would. Not. Start.

I tried the Wiggling-Wire-Trick that had worked for me previously in the parking lot of Sam's Club when my car had not started. I tried swearing at the car under my breath. I finally called Mark (who was already ready for bed) and I said a prayer that--if my car was going to die--please let it die a peaceful death at home, rather than behind my friend's car in her driveway.

Upon Mark's arrival, and with the help of Paula's handy husband--who used a broom handle to prod some contraption connected to the starter--my car started and I drove it home.

The hand of God, you ask? Think of all of the places my car might have died today, leaving my mom and me stranded far from home. Of all the stopping and starting my car did today, it gave out in the nearby driveway of a very dear friend with a very helpful husband. For this I am very grateful.

Guess I'd better look for an old broom to throw in the back of my car.

2009 word of the year

Of the many fun and relaxing things we did together during the Christmas holiday, one of our favorites was looking at family scrapbooks together. I started scrapbooking in 1995, and although I haven't always kept up-to-date with my albums, I have compiled about a dozen or more books through the years. We loved looking through the collection, marveling at how much younger everyone was (myself included), how cute the kids were as babies and young children, and reminiscing about various celebrations, friends, houses, and projects that have been a part of our family life.

Inspired by many of your New Year's resolutions, I had been thinking about choosing a word of the year, as many of my blogger friends do. After some thought and consideration, I have chosen remember as my word for 2009. Though a fairly mundane word at first glance, I have come to find many layers of meaning for me. As I was reading my scriptures last night, here are a few things I thought about:

• Remember to recognize and do the most important things first.
• Remember the happy times and be rejuvenated by them.
• Remember and learn from mistakes and hard times.
• Remember to look at the "big picture" when working toward long-term goals.
• Remember the things I need to take with me each day before I go out the door.
• Remember to think of others--and let them know that I am.
• Remember and reflect upon my baptismal and temple covenants.
• Remember and give honor to my ancestors.
• Remember the sabbath day to keep it holy.
• Remember to reflect upon and acknowledge how I "have seen the hand of God reaching out to touch [me] or [my] family [each] day." (President Henry B. Eyring, Oct. '07 General Conference, "O Remember, Remember")
  
• Remember who I serve--my Savior, Jesus Christ.

And now, my sons, remember, remember that it is upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your foundation; that when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because of the rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall.

Helaman 5: 12

My goal for 2009: Remember.