Family Music

Not to be confused with professional music or even amateur music, family music is a special place in the world. The main requirement is a willing heart.  It helps also if the participant is a bit on the silly side.  I can't address all the aspects of family music in one post so I will start a new Monday Music feature.  Spontaneous family music will be today's topic.

Many of the songs I sang to my babies I learned from my mother.  She sang the classic, "When ducks get up in the morning they always say good day."  That song was best used for keeping wiggly little ones distracted and still during diaper changes, hair combing, face washing, etc.  She also sang the ever popular "There was a little house in the middle of the woods." But mom is gentle and didn't want us to be frightened or violently inclined so she changed the words "Shoot me dead" to "Tickle me red."  She had a very effective one liner she perfected as a school teacher.  When we talked loudly with lots of interrupting and little listening she would peacefully sing, "Only one can talk at a time."

My Dad is an excellent whistler.  He whistled at all the good whistling times, fishing, repairing things, working on my teeth.  I didn't think about it much until he came to visit me as an adult.  We were driving to the Midway airport in Chicago and cutting it close time-wise. It was before GPS was available. (Can I just mention that my life has been forever changed by this wonderful invention?)  Anyway, I was feeling the stress of not being exactly sure where I was going, and whether or not we were going to make it.  Then Dad started whistling,  a calming, warm sound that made me feel like he knew everything was going to be okay.  It's music that tells me to just move steadily forward, all the important things are in place.

What started out as spontaneous music became a traditional call to family scripture study.  Dad would come walking out of his room wearing his wooden shoes, (He said they were more comfortable than slippers), playing "Oh Susanna" on the harmonica.  That meant it was time to get out of bed and join my parents and siblings in the family room for daily scriptures.

I'm not going to say that we don't have musical talent in my family, but for some of us (me) it's more musical interest. I seriously want to be a good singer.  I awkwardly remember asking an elementary school friend to listen to me sing and tell me if I was good.  (Who does that?)  I go to choir every week.  One can always improve right?  I love being part of the beautiful sound that just doesn't occur when I'm by myself. One of the great things about being a mom is that my little kids liked me to sing to them.  And I really like them to sing to me. And now that they're not little anymore I still like them to sing to me.   I do make requests, but sometimes they just sing, and when it  happens it truly fills my heart with home.

Finding Miracles

Cute Mom and Dad at Eliza's wedding 11-11

My dad shared some inspiring insights in a phone conversation yesterday.  He had been reflecting on the numerous health issues that had challenged his life.  After a long illness in his twenties, the doctors performed an ileostomy. In his thirties he contracted  bells palsey which prevented him from working for a month.  In his fifties his kidneys failed and he was subjected to dialysis until my brother generously donated his kidney. (Thank you Peter.) Dad has allergies which in his later years  progressed to pneumonia several times.  At one point lung surgery was necessary.  Many prayers and priesthood blessings have been offered in his behalf, but he wasn't sure he'd ever seen a miracle. He was discussing this idea in a church class and a wise friend commented, "You're still here aren't you?"

My father realized this was true.  He is 77 and has outlived all the other ileostomy patients his age.  A kidney transplant is expected to last 12-15 yrs. before most patients go back on dialysis.  His transplant is 20 yrs. old. He volunteers in the temple 3 days a week.  He used to shuffle up the many stairs.  He set small goals for himself and  now takes 2 at a time.  He started riding his bicycle up the canyon.  At first, he would ride then walk, ride then walk.  He reached his goal of riding the whole way to his designated spot.  Then he set a new goal, ride up the steep incline 2 miles further to the rock power house.  He rode a little farther everyday, until he decided to just keep pedaling.  He made it.

The miracles are there, but many times they just look like life.  The miracle we usually want to see is "Take away the hard parts," but the experience is how God helps us develop faith, and love, and understanding and strength.  He's still with us.  He's just making something more of us than we had planned or thought possible.  Quoting Dallin H. Oaks, "We can trust in God's love and his power."

Thanks Dad.  I love you, and I'm glad you're still here.

Happy Birthday Annabelle

This little missy turned 4 today.  She told me she wanted to sing a song for me.  I'm sure you'll agree that this is one of the best songs in the entire universe.  Today we skyped a little, and I was reminded of the things I've learned from her.

1.  Be thankful for my gifts.  When someone gives me a gift, I should not just say thank you.  I should say their name, look them in the eye, and thank them with love and a hug.  Then I should use the gift so they know that I really like it.  The next time someone gives me, say, a $1.00 stretchy plastic pearl necklace from Target, I will wear it with my ball dress, on the slide, with my pajamas, when I'm playing play dough, and practically every day.

2.  Be a good example.  Sometimes people are watching us and trying to learn the right way.  It's been said that everyone's either an example or a warning.  I want to be an example just in case my little brother answers all questions with the exact same answer I give. I want to love my new baby and then he will get kisses from me and  my brother.  I want to obey the rules, hopefully the first time, because as soon as I do my brother will obey also.  That way we can all have the blessings from choosing the right.

3.  Remember the kindnesses others show us.  It's easy to forget what people have done for us, but if I learn from Annabelle I will keep those memories in my heart for a long time.  If I'm at my grandma's and wake up in the night crying, and she comes down to comfort me so Mom and Dad can sleep, but I still cry and call for Dad, more than a year later I will tell my mom, "Remember when I was crying and Grandma came but I wanted Dad?"

Thanks Annabelle for being such a little sweetie and teaching me important things.

Annabelle's dad on his 4th birthday <3 <3 <3

What does a 52 yr. old mom have in common with a cool 17 yr. old boy, an amazing 14 yr. old girl and an awesome 12 yr. old boy?

My beauties practicing their "How to ruin a picture" poses.  "The choke."

"The nerd"  Well done Andrew.

"The barf."

Anyway, what I really want to talk about is playing with my children.  This weekend I wanted to do a little something fun with each child.  It wasn't a formal declaration, just something I was thinking about.  It was a little trickier than I thought though, and I discovered the answer to my title question...not as much as I'd like.  At the end of my weekend this is my report:

The 17 yr. old and I sat in the same room while he worked on his essay and I read.  I supportively answered most of his questions with "I'm not sure.  Let's google it."  I did know a couple of answers to some spelling questions, but his response was, "OK well, I think I'll google it."  Our most common ground is that  he likes to eat. So I sent him some teenage love and really made a good dinner Saturday night..

One would think I would have a better chance with the 14 yr. old, but this girl is so darn productive.  Last summer I had to trade her some time practicing the organ to see the Justin Bieber movie.  She wanted the organ practice.  I wanted the movie.  When I ask her if she wants to watch a movie at home she says, "Can I knit?"  She doesn't like to shop, but we did have a fun time at the gym on Saturday.  We both value exercise, which is very similar to liking it.  I think our workout  future is bright, although she did ask me if she could bring her homework to read while we do the elliptical.

I had a great idea (I thought) for time with my 12 yr. old.  I took him to the u-pick strawberry patch.  We were in touch with nature.  It was a beautiful day.  There was great potential to experience satisfaction for a job well done.    We started out with, "How long will this take?" and "How much do we have to pick?"   After walking down the muddy rows and encountering some beautiful berries but other smushy, gushy, overripe berries I heard, "You're doing a good job by yourself, Mom.  I don't think you really need me." Finally he queried, "How much does this bucket cost?  Couldn't we just go to the store and buy  jam?"  He was starting to make sense.  We filled our bucket and went home so he could go back to playing ninja Legos.  I should have known.  This child doesn't even like strawberries, but he does like ping pong...

FRIENDSHIP

I spent a delightful hour on the phone the other night.  I was talking to a friend I hadn't talked to for years.  The best part about it was the feeling that, as they say, we'd never been apart.  This is not the first time it's happened, but it just brought me so much happiness.  I came to this conclusion, I love friends.

Wess, Me, Dad, Susie, Allen, Evelyn

The first friend I remember was Wess.  I was probably 3 or 4 when our parents moved to Wolsey Ct. in Portland OR to attend Dental School.  We had some great times roller skating on the cracked sidewalks  between the duplexes, digging to China in the sand under the swings, making quicksand (I learned about it from Tarzan) in the sand under the swings, and fighting.  I was still learning how to be a friend.  Just like now.  I don't remember why we fought. He probably wouldn't let me have my way,  but we would kick and hit, and pull hair and then we'd play again the next day.  

When my family lived in Corvallis, OR my friends were the Johnsons.  They had some sisters. We had some sisters.  When my mom assigned my sisters and I to clean the garage, the Johnson girls would come over.  We'd all play in the dress-ups until the final moment when we'd hurriedly attempt to make it look like we'd been cleaning.  They were a bit better at cleaning than we were, so they saved us. One summer Kris Johnson and I played Monopoly, Life or Yahtzee every day.  We were in my room playing Yahtzee one day ,and the dice went under the bed.  I thought she should get it, because she rolled it.  She thought I should get it because I was closer.  No one budged.  She went home and I stayed mad for a week.  I realized it wasn't fun to be mad.  I wanted to be with my friend, and then we played again.

My memories of sweet friends are some of my fondest.  My memories of my struggling to be a good friend are some of my most embarrassing, but I like to remember so that I won't let stubbornness, or anger, or harsh judgement keep me from having friends.  John Steinbeck said love "Is an outpouring of everything good in you--of kindness and consideration and respect--not only the social respect of manners but the greater respect which is recognition of another person as unique and valuable."

Friends have saved me.  New mom friends talked to me and listened to me and shared husband and crying baby and tantruming toddler stories to let me know my life was normal.  They taught me how to craft and decorate and shop and laugh even when no one had enough sleep or money.  

When I was in my thirties my friends shared stories of children getting lost in stores or escaping from the house and walking through the neighborhood naked.  This helped me feel like I wasn't such a bad mom.  When my friends shared their heartache of infertility I prayed for their heart's desire to be granted and forgiveness for my impatience with my house full of wild and wonderful kids.

Friends with teenagers and I would reassure each other.  Yes, it's normal for teenagers to be embarrassed by their parents.  Yes, dating is trouble.  Someday they'll love their family as much as their friends again, and God loves them more than we do so don't worry. We're not alone in this project.

Sometimes my friends save me by just being themselves.  I know I need to do better, but sometimes I just don't know what to do about it.  Then I'll observe a friend who always speaks positively about everyone, or cooks with wheat flour, or doesn't buy what they don't need , or greets everyone with a hug and a smile. 

Then there are the friends that are angels in my life.  I have a friend that has visited me in every state I've lived in since I left her.  I have a friend who told me I could go to Japan by myself and to not be afraid. I  have a friend that called me when I was really in trouble because she felt  like she should. I have a friend that I called crying more than once.   I have friends that have walked and talked and walked and talked until I wasn't depressed anymore.  I have friends who tell me I'm normal and to just hold the course until I make it home.

Gardens

Did you know that they did a study and found that gardening (or working in the yard) is one of the top 5 behaviors of happy people?  "They" being I don't know who.  I read it in Readers Digest sometime last summer...2011.  You might as well know that I carry some facts along with me who's source I can't quite recall.  The numbers associated with these facts are usually wrong, but you can rest assured that I did, in fact, read them somewhere or hear them somewhere else and they are true.  

Grandma Miller, Me, Mom and Dad

I first remember being in the garden with my Grandma Miller.  I loved her pea patch.  I ate the peas from the plump, but not too plump pods.  Those were the sweetest.  She would sit on a chair outside with a bowl of peas to shell for her delicious creamed new potatoes and peas.  I might have helped her, but for sure I ate.  She also taught me how to make dollies with hollyhocks.  The flowers were the skirts and the buds were the heads.  They were attached with toothpicks. When I grew up to be a mom guess what I planted?  peas and hollyhocks.  One great May my first born came to visit with his first born.  We went out to the garden.  The peas were ripe and we ate.  It was like coming home.

Watermelons from Dad's garden

My one-year old father in front of his family's cornfield

My Dad was another garden hero.  He fancied himself a farmer.  He had another job he went to, but farming was his love.  I wouldn't say he grew plants as much as he collected plants.  He had every species of peach and nectarine so there was always something in season.  Grapes were planted everywhere. He grew watermelon, musk melon, honeydew melon and cantaloupe.  On a good year we had a watermelon bust and the people from church would come for the juicy feast.  Probably my favorite "Dad crop"  was pomegranates.  I spent the fall season with stained fingers from my pomegranate consumption. When I was grown I knew my Dad loved me because of all his efforts to ship  pomegranates to me even though I lived halfway across the country.  Once he sent them in a box.  Another time he brought some with him on the airplane in a black garbage bag.  When the shipments ended a few years ago I found myself shamelessly walking into the store and paying $2.00 for one pomegranate. The fall ritual was so deep, the thought of going without threatened my identity and where I came from.

Lincoln, NE

This picture comes with a parable.  It's called the parable of the lilac tree.  We had just purchased our first house.  I walked the property to assess our assets.  There was a homely little bush planted in the corner of the lot.  I thought, "What a dumb little bush.  I wish it was a lilac."  I gave it a few whacks with my pruning shears with a guess as to what it might become in the spring.  Months later I was again walking my property and on this bush some little flower buds were revealed...lilac buds.  Sometimes we just don't know what we have.

This year's peas and tomatoes

Kohlrabi and banana peppers

I have never become the gardener that my father and grandmother were.  I have planted a lot, but didn't get to stay to see much harvest.  When I was in IL I planted a peach tree and some apple trees. After a few seasons we moved to our next home in MN. A few years later my son called to tell me he had been in Bourbonnais, IL and had stopped by our old house.  The woman invited him to the yard to see how things were doing.  He said, "Mom, your peaches are doing great.!"  This call meant so much to me.  Somewhere someone was benefiting from a choice I had made.   The law of the harvest is beautiful.  I don't know how long I'll live in Georgia, but I plant because it's right.

My mom taught me to love flowers.  I remember nasturtiums  planted in the borders when I was young.  Her home is decorated with roses.  I am actually a recovering rose catalog addict myself.  I'm realistic about my commitment level and only grow knockouts now.  I do have one unfulfilled wish.  I want to grow a Lady Banks climber.

I learned a life lesson early in my flower growing years.  I had just planted these tiny little annuals in the borders around the stepping stones.  My cute toddler son went walking and stepping on practially every young bloom.  I almost stopped him and then realized, maybe flowers have an even greater purpose than beautifying.  Perhaps one of their reasons to be is to soften the way of the tender sweet baby feet of God's children.

Azaleas welcome spring

Well, I don't have every species of grape.  I love to plant, but hate to weed.  Usually about midway through summer I look out at my parched plants and think, "Sorry my little green friends, it's too hot to water." But I keep trying and I do have two pots of wave petunia to welcome anyone coming home...and I think I'll order a pomegranate tree.

Couch pictures

 Whenever anyone comes home, or we come home to them, I like to take  pictures.  Inevitably there are pictures on the couch.  Not the most flattering, but couch pictures have come to be a tradition.  This one is at Charlie's graduation from Dental School.  He's joined by my mother and father and his daughter Abby.

 This picture was taken Oct. 11.  It introduces Joseph Erickson (Eliza's husband)  and includes Abigail (One of my kids favorite cousins.

 This Christmas couch picture was after Aaron's coming home from his mission.

 This was the day Nathan came home from his mission to Brazil and right before Aaron left on his mission to Korea.  I like it because they're sitting shoulder to shoulder, each involved in his own interests...just like life.

 This was a pretty good year.  All the kids except Daniel made it to the couch.

 Rebecca and Charlie's little girls.  A special visit with special people in Houston, TX.

 Daniel, Erica and Caleb came home for this couch picture.  A great one.

 Brandon and Mallory and their firstborn, Annabelle.

 Jacob came home from his mission to Peru.

 Thanksgiving 2011 with Nathan and Ariane and nephews Michael and David.

 We came home to Denver to be with Paul's sister.  Michelle joined the "texting" couch party.

 Annabelle's Christmas puppy.

 Charlie visiting from Pittsburgh.

 Paul doesn't usually make it to the couch pictures so this is a rare moment.  Below, we have the year we all drove to AZ to visit Daniel before he took his family to Japan.  Ya gotta love couch pictures.