Our Baby is a High School Senior

Twenty six years ago, I was just beginning my life as a mother. I never dreamed it would be this wonderful or difficult. I had no idea how much my heart would change, how much I would love these beautiful, amazing babies.

For more than 20 years now my mornings have been filled with waking up sleepy children, packing lunches and sending them off to public school. My afternoons have been filled with helping in classrooms, serving on the PTA and throwing class parties. My evenings have been filled with checking backpacks, helping with homework, filling out forms and enforcing bedtime.

It all comes down to this . . . the last year of public school. My baby's first day of the last year of public school.

It's a bittersweet time. I never imagined I would feel melancholy about saying "the last time" to things like student registration, parent teacher conference and homecoming dances with many more coming as the year progresses. The truth is, I have loved every single minute of it, and I will miss a lot of things after this year is over and  I see my beautiful baby girl in her cap and gown with a high school diploma in hand.

I'm grateful to have had the chance to be the mother of such amazing and intelligent children.

Jesus Loves Me!

Dad was prepared! He had his funeral plans complete and paid for before he died. All we had to do was choose flowers, write the obituary, put the death date on the headstone, and put on a celebration of his life.

Putting together pictures and a display to celebrate dad was emotional, but brought back many memories of times past and helped me get to know him even better. We included items from his missionary service for the LDS Church in the Southwest Indian Mission, items from his service in the U.S. Army during the Korean War, items from his work life as a NASA engineer, items describing his service as a leader in the LDS Church, and most important - items that detailed his family life.

It was a beautiful celebration. Angels were present as earthly angel granddaughters sang "Come Thou Fount", a rendition composted by my beautiful Melissa Lynn. Not a dry eye was seen by the end of this performance.

In the limousine ride to the cemetery, all my siblings and I piled in - just like we did so many times before on family vacations. This time we were much bigger, much older, and missing our parents. On the drive over, we began singing the song our parents taught us in the many hours spent on the road, "Jesus Loves Me, Yes I know" in Navajo. It was decided that we would sing this song at dad's grave as a tribute to his love. I know dad was thrilled - he was there with us. I will not soon forget the feeling of peace and love that was felt by all.

Losing Dad

My dad . . .very capable, confident, independent, handy and smart. His dry and quick sense of humor was usually unexpected, but always appreciated. His nickname for me was his little Son (pronounced Sawn), and I never tired of hearing him say it. He endearingly called all eight of his kids "kitty cats" or "little toads". We in turn called him our "Daddy Toad".

Dad rarely, if ever, missed a game, performance, race, piano recital or parade when any of his kids were involved. If your car didn't start, your plumbing didn't work, you were in a fender bender, stuck in bad weather, or just simply needed help, he was there with his tools and wallet in hand. He taught us all how to snow ski, fix a car, cut wood, drive a car, water ski and jet ski. He let us help him pour concrete, paint, hang wallpaper, build a bookshelf, solder a circuit board or fix anything electronic. Every year he took his family on a vacation in a tent, camper, travel trailer or housboat. We explored many national parks, beaches, lakes, zoos and amusement parks. He drove many miles singing with us all the way. When dad was around, we knew all was okay.

Dad loved to build models, HAM radio, radio controlled airplanes, snow skiing, water sports, guns, and anything electronic. He was a NASA Engineer, and had an integral part in the space industry. He loved chocolate donuts, meat and potatoes, rice pudding, custard, and anything sweet. 

I never worried about dad, until he suffered a stroke. This humbling experience made me realize that I took a lot for granted about my dad. After a few months in the hospital, dad came home with me to continue his recovery. He worked hard to learn how to walk without a walker, then without a cane. He was determined to be independent again. I loved to watch this man, humbled by his health challenges, get up every morning with a new vigor to live life to it's fullest. I loved waking up to the clinking of his spoon stirring hot chocolate every morning at 6:00 a.m., hearing his "oh hi Son" when I walked in.

He did return to independence, living in a small apartment close to my home. He made many friends and continued his love of life. Until the call I received that dad had blacked out and fell, severely hitting his head causing much damage. He never would recover. I spent many hours by his bedside reading to him, singing his favorite songs, holding his hand, and watching him sleep. The last words I heard him say were "I love you my little Son". He never woke up that next day. I knew that my job of caring for him was complete and that he would be off to a better place, the place he taught me about - Heaven. He would be reunited with my my mom, his sweetheart, who passed away 9 years previously. He was ready to meet his Father in Heaven, and his Savior. He was ready, but I wasn't. I'm still not ready to lose my dad. But, I'm grateful that he was my dad.

I look forward to being reunited with both my mom and dad, and I'm certain he will say "oh, hi Son" when I see him. That will be a glorious day.

Opening The Creative In Me

My need for structure, exactness and practical thinking can close the door on my creativity. The fear of being "incorrect" in a subjective world can hinder my artistic nature.

As a child of a logical minded Electro Optics Engineer, my early developmental years were a world where exactness in thinking did not include a creative, artistic, open learning environment. "Think logically", was a common phrase used whenever there was a problem solving issue waiting for an answer. Yes, the arts were a part of our family life as long as they followed existing protocols. Music was performed exactly as it was written, pictures were drawn with exact perspective and recipes were followed without changes. No "coloring outside the lines".

As an adult, my creative self was screaming to come out into the open. Every step has been painfully difficult in letting myself create without being hindered by my logic. Without realizing it, I began small by creatively changing family recipes to add flavors and textures that I loved. It felt almost sacrilegious at first, as if I was trampling on sacred ground.

Slowly, I was able to take baby steps in thinking outside the box, although keeping one foot on the line just to be safe. For example, I can doodle as long as the doodle is balanced with all the circles complete and the geometric shapes even. Once while doodling, my husband asked me to leave a circle incomplete and it was painfully difficult to do. That realization prompted this introspection of my creativity.

In contemplating my 10 year career in marketing, I realized that this logical, exact thinking when mixed with my creative talent is the perfect combination. Both are required in developing, designing and implementing a marketing plan, as well as leading a creative team to success in this highly competitive industry.

There are still times when I desire a complete openness to my creativity. Moving forward, I accept the challenge to give an unencumbered voice to my creativity, to break down the rigid walls of predetermined parameters that don't allow my complete self to be expressed, to stop the fear of others' judgment and to feel the air of complete creative freedom. But, keeping my analytical thinking is also an asset to which I have learned is just as important in completing the circle of my whole self.

For The Love of DOGS

Remembering the day I brought home my first new puppy still warms my heart. As a 5 year old child, the simple joy that Collie/Beagle brought into my life is still imprinted on my soul, even though the details are a bit fuzzy after so many years. So began my passion for these four legged creatures.

Why? If you have to ask you probably will never understand why dog lovers are head over heals for their pets. The unconditional love of our "Rovers" and the comfort they bring far outweighs the messes, the barking, the licking, and the constant vacuuming required.

After losing my beloved Golden Retriever, Nikki who I raised with my children, I thought my heart could never take another loss. I proclaimed that she would be my last dog. Three years past from that tragic day, when my husband announced to me me that we had to get a dog. I was a little bewildered since I thought the topic was closed. He explained that he had suffered enough embarrassment at my greeting and petting and hugging dogs before friends, neighbors or anyone walking down the street. He had watched me talk to dogs in cars next to ours at stoplights or simply driving down the highway. "It is time", he announced, "to give you what your soul longs for."

That next Christmas Eve Jade, a beautiful chocolate Lab, entered our lives. I was elated. A year later, our son's black lab, Alley, joined our family. Then, not feeling complete, Raz, a handsome Golden Retriever/Lab pup came home with our daughter.

It runs in the family! I believe this unique passion is passed from mother to child as I see my children yearn for this companionship. Our daughter and son-in-law just adopted the cutest beagle, our first grand-puppy.

They make me laugh, they listen to me cry, they lick my tears, they encourage me to play, they comfort me when I'm down, and they soothe my soul. How? The only explanation I have is that God loves us and has given us each a way to live life fully. The companionship of an animal is, I believe, a heavenly gift of which I am eternally grateful.