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.

Mother

remains of the day

It's nearing the end of another day and here's what I've got to show for it:

A bill from the plumber who came to unclog my laundry sink drain in the basement:

A sad end to one of my favorite pairs of everyday shoes (I guess I shouldn't be surprised, they are 11 years old). After sloshing through the Costco parking lot with a cart full of groceries in the rain I noticed that not only was my foot slightly damp, but the hem of my wide-leg pants was out and they were dragging in the slush as well.

When I chose to document the demise of my shoes I realized that they have been much more ratty looking than I realized, and that I probably should have retired them long ago.

Leakage onto the cuff of my blouse from the ground beef I bought at Costco (and are those really horrid age spots all over my arm? Perish the thought!):

Spattering of both mud and spaghetti sauce on my blouse and sweater. I had to make dinner in stages, in between running the kids to and from piano lessons, stopping by my mother's house to frost a cake for one of her neighbors, and picking up Mark from work. (Yes, having one car is really fun--at least it's a good one!) I know it looks like I'm pregnant, but I'm not. I've never taken a SP of my stomach before and I haven't mastered the most flattering angle.

My homemade spaghetti sauce that, due to the above-mentioned running in and out, bubbled over onto the stove and made for a messy clean-up. Thankfully, I had help. Truthfully, my family was so excited to actually have me cook a meal that the mess didn't seem so bad.

The rain turned into a violent snow storm (really-in a matter of 20 minutes or so). It continues to pile up and Sarah is hoping for a snow day tomorrow. Welcome to Colorado weather, Linda from California!

At least now I'm wearing stretchy pants and my favorite ratty old wool sweater (one I refuse to give up--despite its condition-- and decline to photograph any time soon.)

Edited to add: Sarah got her fondest wish granted! We just found out that all Jefferson County schools have been canceled for tomorrow.

spoiled, but not a brat

As the baby of my family I long ago came to the realization that it's okay to be spoiled as long as you're not a brat. This position in my family has worked well for me over the years, especially as the past 21 have found us living close to my parents.

Case in point: My Sundays of late find me busy and often exhausted by the end of the day. While we have always enjoyed eating Sunday dinner with my parents, over the past year our pattern has evolved into my mother planning and making dinner at her house with very little--if any--help from me. To fully appreciate this gift, you must understand that a "normal" Sunday dinner at my mom's house consists of a beautifully-set table (nicely-pressed cloth napkins, always), nothing from a box or a mix (everything is made from scratch, be it gravy, salad dressing, or rolls), and an ever-changing array of our favorite homemade desserts to top things off.

This afternoon I arrived at my Mother's house to find this inviting set-up:

We found this tablecloth at HomeGoods a month or so ago and knew it would be darling with Mom's lime green dishes.

Corned beef brisket with horseradish sauce was on today's menu, accompanied by boiled potatoes, cooked carrots, artisan "rustic" bread, and Winter salad. Ah--a pleasing menu, indeed! But wait--that's not all. Mother surprised me with my all-time most favorite incredible dessert--my manna, as it were: Homemade Chocolate Pie. A moment of silence, please, while you gaze at this enticing photo.

Fights have been known to break out over who gets the last piece for breakfast. Usually I win.

So, while I feel somewhat undeserving, as well as moderately guilty for not contributing more to these fine repasts, I can't deny that I look forward to our Sunday dinners. I feel pampered, cared for, and loved. In my parents' home, surrounding the dinner table, I feel safe. I come away with a feeling of peace and reassurance that, though the coming week may be hectic and sometimes feel out of control, I always have this safe place to which I can return. And sometimes there's a chocolate pie waiting for me in the refrigerator.

Thanks, Mom.

a case against predictive texting

Last weekend was our Stake Conference and Mark, as the Stake Clerk, was at the church from about 3:30 p.m. - 9:30 p.m. I received a text message from him shortly before the 7 p.m. leadership session asking if I would please bring him something to eat, as he hadn't eaten all day and was famished. Having just ordered pizza for the kids, I quickly snatched the last few pieces and put them in a Ziplock bag, found an empty Target sack and added an apple, a granola bar, and a bottle of water to complete the feast.

Arriving at the church just minutes before the meeting was about to begin, and not knowing where Mark was, I decided I would hang the "bag of eats" on the door of the clerks' office for him to retrieve when he could. I stood in the foyer and hurriedly sent him a text message to alert him of the drop-off.

Thank goodness I proofread my message before hitting the send button, or Mark would surely have been confused!

Almost a week later I'm still chuckling every time I think of it.

happy endings

At the end of a rather long and harried day I was surprised today with two delightful and completely unexpected gifts: The first, a daffodil yellow Cuisinart hand mixer from my mother, and the second, two boxes of Cadbury eggs--one caramel and one creme--from my dear and thoughtful friend Linda J. (who had read a comment I made on Charlotte's post about craving said eggs).

Wow! That's just about all I can say, Wow! Well that, and Thanks!

. . . and this is what I hate about costuming

Our show closed last Saturday night--thank heaven! My friends often ask me, "How do you do it, Denise?" This is how: I let absolutely everything else in my life take a back seat--family (which encompasses laundry, meal prep, house cleaning, phone conversations with out-of-state loved ones, blog reading, etc.), church assignments (more difficult to do so this year--thank goodness I have supportive counselors and a fabulous Compassionate Service Leader), friends (sorry about never texting you back, Paula, when you were in town. . .), and of course sleep and healthy eating (and I wonder why I'm just getting over one of the worst sinus infections I've had in a while).

This morning, deciding that my sanity hinged upon "getting my house in order," I took yet another day off work and decided to try to make order out of chaos. Sadly, the following photos were not staged in any way. This is just the way my house looked this morning, after several weeks of neglect.

My bedside table/dresser. Note unmade bed in the mirror:

Both my kitchen and dining room tables were covered with weeks of miscellany. Of course, we never ate dinner at the table, so where's the problem? Note Emily's "cartoon" sunglasses I've had to resort to wearing, as mine broke and I have not had time to get them fixed or replaced. Also note the last of the Christmas decorations that have yet to be stored away:

Note bags from HomeGoods containing a design project for a patiently-waiting client, as well as miscellaneous coupons (likely expired by now) clipped who knows when:Another pile, in a different location, for a different patiently-waiting client:
The laundry center--not a pretty sight.
The ironing pile (which does not include all of the hanging items pictured in the back of the previous top photo). Most mornings the kids feel lucky if they can simply pull a rumpled something out of the pile to wear that day; hey--at least there's a possibility it may be clean.
No wonder I can't iron:
My sewing area. When things get so crazy I don't take time to clean up one project before moving onto the next, hence the pile of scraps and unused fabrics strewn about the floor:

It's gross, but I had to document the un-vacuumed floor. It's WAY worse in the sewing area. Yes, Jessie--those are the ever-present remnants of Moosey's favorite rope chew toy. Don't ask where the spare change came from!

My work desk, where everything from school, church, mail, etc. gets unceremoniously deposited. Yes, that is a wrapped Christmas box containing a church object lesson used last December:Part of my kitchen counter, representing the remnants of my last-minute pretzel-making-gift project (for closing night thank-you's) and my varied assortment of vitamins and cough remedies:

And, though (thankfully) not in my house, there's all of the waiting, dirty costumes at the high school to be dealt with--LATER.A self-portrait of exhaustion at the end of the show's run. What would I do without my dear friend and co-conspirator, Teri?
And whatever would I do without my ever-supportive and non-complaining husband Mark? This photo was taken after Thursday night's show, hence John in costume and makeup.

*sigh* Let Real Life commence.