Surely special

Last winter (February-ish 2011), I was unemployed, snowed in, trying to figure out my life, and searching for things to do to make my life worth living. My lovely Aunt Jolene (Father's older sister) has been our family's main family historian for a long time (since before I was born--she's done a lot of research, travel, connections, etc.). But she had a really serious accident a few years ago and has had complications since. So, when I reached out to her, she passed along a project that she wanted done finished: transcribing my grandpa's mission journal.

Grandpa Whitney Checketts served in the Texas/Louisiana mission in 1948-1950. Grandpa grew up in northern Utah, the youngest of 15/9 children (15, 9 who grew up (or 8?)). His father was a bishop for a very long time and his older brothers had served in WWII. I'm not sure if any of them went on a mission. But anyhow, he came of age in a peaceful time and got to serve.

Grandpa is my only grandparent who I knew very well and that wasn't a whole lot. But one of the things that I have always known about him is that he was always a missionary. He loved to share with anyone about the gospel of Jesus Christ and his church. He'd talk to everyone when we were in public; when he sent us cards or letters, he'd write a note on the envelope telling the carrier to ask us about the church; for several years, while living in Oklahoma, he wrote a weekly letter to the editor, about various gospel topics (like his own little column); and he'd always encourage us to also share the gospel.  These things I knew.

Well, it's taken me well over a year (mostly because I took a many-month hiatus), but this morning I finished transcribing. And guess what I learned? Well, lots of things, but here are a few:

- Missions in 1948-50 had a lot in common with missions today: lots of contacting, working with members, people hiding from you/lying to you, getting sick and waiting while companions are sick, associating with/becoming close to other missionaries, eating with members, helping when people were sick or died or had other problems, ups & downs from news from home, teaching and more teaching (and don't forget more contacting), keeping records, dealing with weather, going to meetings, the joy of watching people accept the gospel, and the sweetness of feeling the guidance of the Spirit guide you.

- Missions then had a few difference. The most common being that they'd go to a fair amount of "shows" (movies). And they called a few things different ("lady missionaries" "cottage meetings"). And they paid for their stuff. They loaned and sold Book of Mormons (which the missionaries bought, not the church; now I understand why he'd send Uncle Thad boxes of Books of Mormon on his mission). But really, 50 years hasn't changed much in missions.

- I learned a lot about why Grandpa did the things he did to share the gospel (for example, he wrote to the paper and helped do a radio program, too).

I got to know Grandpa and to love him. To appreciate the heritage that he passed along. He was a young man then, but his love for and testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ shined through. So did his commitment to hard work and diligence. And I'm so thankful he passed that along. I also got to feel his love for his family (simple statements about letters to and from his parents and siblings, the pain he felt when his sister had a miscarriage, etc.); they're my family too and I'm thankful for the extra connections that I feel now.

I'm also thankful for him and the thousands of other missionaries who have worked to share the gospel through the years. Because he served in the rural south, with a small church population, many little things that came up reminded me of both things I've experienced and stories I've heard from good people that I grew up around. If they could see the organization that the church is now! I believe their hearts would swell with joy and I hope they would be grateful for where we've come.

I loved the language of the '40s/a country boy. One of my favorite phrases was his "surely."  "I surely am enjoying this work." "I surely am grateful to be working out here." "I surely do have a strong testimony of this gospel." "It surely was good."  Etc.

This morning I finished transcribing. He spent a couple of days saying good-byes to members and investigators, following up on some people close to being baptized. Then he packed his things, went to the mission home and was released. Got on the bus and went home. His parents met him in SLC and he went to see his sisters. Then he went home and started working on the farm that day. And it was over.

Only it was never really over, was it? It wasn't ever over and I think that's part of why 6 of his 7 children served full-time missions (including his daughters), many of his grandchildren served full-time (one in Texas!), one his sons & wife have done a service mission and two of his children and their spouses are right now working on papers/waiting for calls for more full-time missions. So, no. It's never completely over.

But the full-time part ended. And I cried. I'm still crying.

I surely am grateful for the special experience this has been.

Hey, that's me!

A sister in my ward had her blog address on the gchat sidebar and so I clicked on it and read a little bit. And low (or is it lo?) and behold, what do I see? A post about me! Well, kind of.  Here it is.

That's me, the sick sister. :) And I was sick. And I was SO happy to have them come visit me. I didn't want them to leave (do you become childish when you're sick). But the visit helped me make it through the next week in bed (and the following week of being sick--but not so miserable because I wasn't stuck in my room).

Service really is a lovely thing and even though it was a little odd to have all these people in my living room (I was super sick, in my pajamas hadn't showered for a couple of days), I felt loved.

Mothers, Part 3: Siblings

To break this up, here's another segment.

While talking to my mother, a point about imperfect mothering came up that I've heard from others. Many of the bad moments come while mother is pregnant or has a young child (this is just the report, not from me knowing). Between the hormones, the sickness, the exhaustion sometimes there's anger or neglect or whatever.

And my answer to that? Well, actually, I'll tell you in a second after I think about that for a minute. I've never been pregnant and I've never spend weeks or months of sleepless nights. In fact, the thoughts of sleepless nights are one of the things that terrify me about having a baby. I need plenty of sleep. After a couple of days of not enough (or even irregular) sleep I am not a happy person; I try to be, but I just struggle. I also think of the exhaustion from my mission and finals weeks and other such things. Of the emotions from PMS and when I'm sick. And I just can't imagine doing it for a long, long time. And then on top of that trying to be patient and creative and energetic and whatever else people try to be with young (or not so young) children. It makes me want to cry thinking about it. Phew.

Anyway, back to my answer now. Once upon a time I told someone this: "the best thing my parents ever gave me was my siblings."  Now, in the years since then I've rethought that superlative. Maybe not the best but pretty close to it. Probably an understanding and testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ is the the best thing they gave me, but I think siblings come next. And the truth is, siblings are mixed in with the gospel and all the other things.

My parents gave and give me lots of truly wonderful things. The older I get the more I realize how truly, richly blessed I am. My mother is amazing. So is my father. And the unit of them together, wow. They've given me education and travel and values of work and service and diligence. They gave me music (in abundance) and nature and physical exercise and reading (oh, reading. talking about parenting. these 25+ years later I still remember some of the power battles over reading lessons). They taught me to love people and understand many different kind of people. They respected me and taught me to respect others. They have always given me love and support and trust in my decisions and abilities. And on and on and on. How could I possibly quantify and qualify all they've given me and taught me? 

But mixed in and greater than those things, they gave me my siblings. I liked my siblings when I was young (95% of the time). They're the world to me now. In case you didn't know from knowing me in person or from reading my blog, I love, love, LOVE my siblings. So much. Every single one. To imagine life without any one of them is a terrible thought. I remember once a friend explaining that my parents could have had a perfect family--a son and a daughter (can you imagine Roland and me being considered a perfect family? haha), so why did they keep going? The thought made me sick then. Now it's just unfathomable and just happily not reality.

So, as a daughter of an imperfect mother, a mother who was pregnant or nursing a baby for the first 15 years of my life, I say--I accept the cost. Maybe I didn't get as much attention (at least from her) as I could have. Maybe I got yelled at a time or two that I wouldn't have if she'd had more sleep. Maybe I didn't have material things that would've come with money the other children "took up". Or, I don't know, whatever else that would have happened if she hadn't had all those children.

But for myself, I accept the trade off. Happily. Gratefully. Without a doubt. I can't say that everyone would say the same. But I do. The years of sharing a tired mother with lots of little children--they weren't that many. The years I have with my siblings--they're infinite.

Mothers, Part 2

This isn't the part 2 I had planned on (that's half written and will come).  But as I was praying last night, I thought about my blog post and I wanted to make sure the following was said so explicitly that you can't miss it.

I admire parents so deeply I can't really think of words to explain how it makes me feel. I admire you. I respect you. I love you. I'm thankful for you. Especially for you young parents. My peers, who I've watched start this journey and who have shared parts of it with me.

On days when I feel like I can't take care of myself, I think of you taking care of yourselves and your children. And I feel so much awe.

On days when the world depresses me and the wickedness of the world is so overwhelming that I kind of don't want to live in it anymore, one of the main things that brings me hope is thinking about my friends and family raising their little families in the gospel. I mean that very, very literally. There are days when I think I can't stand it anymore and I think, very purposefully, of you.* Of Carrie. Of Meg. Of Megan. Of Cheryl-Lynn. Of Laura. Of Deanna, who has shared, perhaps more than anyone else I've ever known, the ups and downs of parenting. And of many more whom I know [you're just the ones I think might read this--so if someone else needs a shout-out--just let me know]; And then I just imagine the ones I don't know! I think of you teaching your children the gospel. Of singing Primary songs and telling scriptures stories. Of praying. Of teaching values and knowledge. Of loving and raising righteous little sons and daughters. And it brings peace to my troubled soul and reminds me that much is right in the world.

I think that perhaps that's why I feel sad and frustrated and even a little troubled when I hear good, righteous mothers apologizing for their imperfections. I kind-of want to shake them and say: Are you kidding me?  Don't you understand how very, very blessed your child is to grow up with you? Don't you realize how much you're doing for him/her/them? And for me? And for the other people around you? And for our whole entire world?  

You didn't have to be a mother. You chose to! And for that alone I respect and admire you and am grateful to you. For that alone you should feel the gratitude of Heaven and of so many people.

Truly, I cannot express the emotions that well up and as I think about how much I admire you mothers.

As I said last post: If I feel so much love, admiration and gratitude, I cannot begin to imagine how God feels toward you.


Two little postscript thoughts: Watching my friends and sisters-in-law (and cousins, etc.) being young parents, I have gained a greater love and appreciation for the "old" parents in my life--mine, my aunts and uncles and others who I knew as a young child. To me then, they were just parents. That's who they were, right? Watching now, I've gained so much love and appreciation for them and that's been a special thing too.

*For those of you who read this and are mothers and have your own blogs: Thank you for sharing pictures and stories from your parenting. I mean it quite literally when I talk about thinking of you and your gospel-centered homes to bring me peace and hope. And I'm grateful that you share parts of that (good, bad and otherwise) so that I have those images to hold onto.

Mothers: Part 1

[Most of what I am about to say applies to fathers, too. I just don't think any fathers read this and it was mothers and Mother's Day that precipitated many of the thoughts.]

I've heard a lot about mothering from mothers lately. Between Mother's Day and the fact the majority of my peers are young mothers, I hear a lot.  Then of course there's my own mother going through mothering pains of her own.  Anyway, as I've listened and read, I've had some thoughts that I really want to shout out to mothers. I mostly refrain. Then, I said a lot of them to my mother yesterday. But they're still very dominantly bouncing around my brain and since this is my blog I'm going to say them here. I hope they might be helpful to someone; if not, maybe they'll be helpful to me some day. Before we go further, let it be noted that I am NOT a mother. So these thoughts come from the perspective of a daughter and a student of Jesus Christ's gospel.

First of all, if God wanted perfect parents (in this life) He would have designed a different plan.
Really, it's that simple. Of course you aren't perfect. Really? No one is, especially at parenting.  And yet God keeps sending millions of his children down into these homes with imperfect parents. Don't you think he knows what he's doing? I do. So why are you apologetic and guilt ridden and all that for not being perfect? Stop it! (and see next paragraph) God doesn't need or want perfect parents. He wants the plan he has set up, which includes a whole lot of imperfect parents doing a great job of teaching their children and helping them come unto Christ. So, Trust God. Trust His plan. Don't try to out think him. Okay? Okay.

So why do parents have these feelings? Well, here's where we really go into Ruth's opinion. An opinion based on studying the gospel, as well as my own feelings from when I make mistakes at being a daughter, a sister, a roommate, a friend, a teacher, etc. I can only imagine that in parenting--a relationship of such greater significance than any of those--those feelings are magnified. And I cry quite a lot about my imperfections in those other relationships, so I can extrapolate and imagine that sometimes you feel pretty bad.
And that really makes me wonder why? Why, do we feel so bad sometimes? And finally I think, you should feel bad when you're impatient or yell at your children or don't want to ever see them again or whatever it is. Just like you should feel pain for all the things you do wrong. And then you should humble yourself, cry to Heavenly Father, do whatever else you need to to repent (including getting up and doing better--repeat, repeat, repeat), and then GO to church on Sunday, take the Sacrament and BELIEVE that Christ has cleansed you of your sins from this past week and start over. New. Fresh. And then you'll mess up again and then repeat. And repeat. And recognize that with Christ's infinite Atonement you can repeat an infinite amount of weeks. And be thankful that you get to go take the sacrament every week. [And hopefully, you have some quiet moment at some time to think about what you've actually done--I know with small children it might not be actually during the sacrament.] Oh, and forgive yourself.
I'm not a parent, but the same principles apply and I too am learning this. 

A few weeks ago I was talking to Rachel and she said something that seared into my heart and has really helped me turn around my life right now. I wish I could get it down perfectly, but here's the gist:  "That really is the greatest faith that I know of. The faith that Jesus Christ really does cleanse you of your sins and you get to start anew."  Wow. I've pondered on that for weeks now (including the week where I spent the entire time in bed--lots of time to ponder). I've thought of the other things I have faith in and I believe she's right. There are some pretty humongous things to have faith in: Faith that God will keep his promises, that I'll get married and have children, that the world will be at peace some day, that people will live again after they die, that God will take care of me when I have no money to take care of myself, that someone will heal from something, that a child will make a good choice, etc.  But (I'm really trying here to explain something that I can't exactly put into words, so bear with me) most of those things include help from outside sources and therefore you can kind of, sort of hope they'll happen. Or they include more tangible things so you can see when they do. But to believe--and live--that Christ has cleansed me from sin. That only comes from him and it is the greatest faith. Thinking of that as I took of the sacrament the next Sunday was liberating and powerful and good.

And then when I started thinking about these sad mothers on Mother's Day, I could see somehow how it fit. (Even if you can't understand my rambling.)  And I could see a little bit of why God is just fine with imperfect parents. Because in the process of wanting to be a good parent, you slowly but surely turn to Christ and work on the perfecting process.

So, of part 1 (because I now realize it's not all going to fit into one post), here's what I conclude. God designed a plan with imperfect parents, so stop apologizing for being part of that plan. And let your imperfections (at parenting and all the other things we do in life) bring you to Christ. Let the weekly sacrament cleanse you and heal you and allow you to start clean again (even if it last just a little while). Obviously, this isn't just for mother's, that's just where I've seen its need a lot lately. If I love you and appreciate what you do as a parent (and I do), I can't really even imagine what Heavenly Father feels.

Fancy Nancy

Five days after I got back from Washington, Nancy came to visit. We've been planing a trip for awhile, the timing just ended up happening. It made coming back to Boston bearable and then for a most wonderful month of March (and we won't discuss the aftermath, when she left). I didn't take nearly as many pictures as W! (let's be honest, Nancy and I aren't 5 and 2; plus she took a bunch on her phone for Brent, so I didn't take out the camera; and we both prefer to enjoy the moment more than capturing it), but we had WONDERFUL two week together. We discussed wedding plans, did some wedding shopping and planning. Ate tons of delicious things. Visited lots of fun places and dear people. Talked into the wee hours of the night. Prayed together. Biked all over (including a lovely trip to Concord and Walden Pond). Relished the summer days in March (70s and 80s--really?). Got my hair cut. And, for my part, just soaked up being with another person. Life is so much better shared. Something I realized from the past month is how horribly lonely my life is. Yes, I have tons of wonderful friends and I'm really very blessed. But at the end of the day, I was designed to be part of a family. And for a very long time I was part of a family. And nothing can replace that. With both R&S and with Nancy, some of my favorite things were family meals and family prayers, reporting activities at the end (and in the middle) of the day, checking in on the way to meet up, etc. Especially with Nancy, where I was partially in my regular life, I loved, loved, loved it!

And back to Nancy. Nancy is the perfect little sister. I'm sure most people who know her think she's lovely. but for me she's extra great because she thinks I'm wonderful--when I'm completely myself, good and bad. I don't know know how to explain, exactly (especially not without sounding conceited) but both of my "little" sisters think I'm the most wonderful big sister. It's humbling, in so many ways. But it's also sustaining. And I feel it. Nancy also loved Boston! I think I could have convinced her to move here, if there hadn't been a fiance back home. We just had a blast together and I was able to become enamored anew with the lovely area I live in (which was good because it helped a lot when she left). I know this is so generalized, but without spending a few days, I think I just have to sum up the trip with: We had a wonderful time together and it was awesome! I love my Nancy so very, very much and I feel very  blessed that I got this wonderful time with her before she's married. 

Our St. Patrick's day meal (after a RS bball game): Homemade pasta with pesto (homemade) and Sofia's yummy green beans (her recipe).

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Look! It's spring!!

We forgot to take pictures most of this day and I wanted one with our bikes (this was the day we biked some 30+ miles). But my bike lock was (was! I bought a new one, hooray) a very obstinate thing and after I'd already locked it up this day I refused to unlock it. So here we are posing with the bike, locked to my stairwell. :)

I taught Nancy to make pad thai--this is what she "took back" as a souvenir for Brent.

Sometimes I love propaganda.

p.s. Sherilyn, you haunted so much of this trip. So much of what I showed Nancy I had learned from you. Especially true since this was during the exact same dates as when you and I went touring, getting to know Boston. :) So it was "Sherilyn this and Sherilyn that and Sherilyn the other."

Washington Love

In March I went to visit Roland, Sofia and Elisabeth and Vivian. They live on an island, that has a ferry to the mainland. I loved everything about it. I enjoyed being in a more rural area. I enjoyed eating Sofia's delicious food (she said I needed to stay longer because we only scratched the surface of the things she wanted to make for me). I enjoyed all the beautiful places we went.
I loved spending time with Roland and Sofia--I love them so much and I live entirely too far away from them. They are so wonderful. My one and only big brother--and the relationship is just different than all my little ones. Every day after family prayer, Roland would hug me for a long time and discuss how he could convince me to move closer. I can't even tell you how wonderful it was to feel wanted. I also had so much fun visiting with Sofia--she's been my sister in-law for 10 years now (10!) and I'm so grateful that we're family. :)
And of course, I loved, loved, loved being Tia Ruth. (tia = aunt in Spanish) My lovely sobrinitas fill my heart with love. We played and cooked and had a joyful time together. Elisabeth is growing and SO much fun! She's a lovely age and she still loves me. I met Vivian for the first time and she is so cute. I cannot get enough of her curls! And her cute little "shi" (si) or "yes" for everything. And both of them--just cute, fun, energetic and loving.

R&S went on a couple of day "anniversary trip" and I got to mother the girls. I loved it so much. I want to be a mother. I mean, I really, really want to.
Coming back to Boston was the only hard part of this trip. The whole time I was coming back--including when I was flying in, riding to my house--I kept thinking, "I live in Boston? Really? Boston, MA? That is so weird, first of all. And second, why do I live thousands of miles from my family?"
A couple of months ago there were a million more things to say about this trip, but now the important thing is to get this posted. So without further ado, I will post more pictures than you probably want to see. :)  (I need to learn to make the collages like Deanna has.)

Playing with Grandmother's Christmas gift (which I delivered, because I'm a good Christmas elf).

At Mt. St. Helen

Good thing Pa brought his boots!

She loves skirts, as you'll soon note. And it was SO pretty up there!

Love

This one LOVES to throw things. Especially if it's throwing it into the water.

Pa's truck. Doing donuts in the snow. Some things never change.

We're brown osos in the snow.

On the ferry.

 

 

Heaven = an hour or more on the shore where there are gazillions of rocks (and a few sticks) to be thrown into the water. I think she could have spent the entire day here.

One of my favorites about this little series is watching Ma in the background.

And Pa, making cakes for the chickens. I love him!