all my little heart needed

I could not let go of him.
I grabbed his arm the minute we sat down for the viewing.
I held onto it as we followed the casket into the chapel.
I squeezed it as soon as we took our place with the rest of the family in the chapel.

I could not sing the words to the opening song.
And I just cried and cried, going through all the toilet paper I had stolen from the restroom.

I looked over at him a couple of times.
I kept my hand on his.
I rested my head on his shoulder.
My heart felt so tender.

And I cried some more.
This time I sang the closing song while he cried.

When the funeral ended and it was time to say "good-bye", all I could say was, "So help me, Dad, if you die before I get married, I will never speak to you again."
And I meant it.

I just so want him (the good-to-the-core him that I end up with) to know him (the good-to-the-core him that is my dad). That just feels so important to me.

He assured me he'd be around for a long time.

I walked to my car while he walked back to the family.
I turned around for one last look at the scene.
of love.
of legacy.
of eternity.

And as I walked away, alone, I realized I wasn't.
And I felt incredible peace.
For once, I wasn't worried about my dad as I said "good-bye".
I didn't play the "what if" game in my head.
And I didn't worry about him all day.

I just felt peace.
My tender heart felt peace.

And that was all I needed today.
That was all my little heart needed.

my James.

I'm his aunt laurel.
He's my James.

We're both a "third child".
That might not mean much to you.
But, it means something to third children.

We are not the oldest.
We are not the youngest.
We're right in the middle.
We tend to be emotional...sometimes prone to dramatics.
But we are peacemakes. We like everyone to be happy.
We are independent. We have to be.
We are passionate.
We're creative and we dream big.
We have vivid imaginations.
We have a sweet side.
And we [happily] outgrow our not-so-sweet side.

James and I had a really special little chat right after his baptism last weekend.
I will never forget it.
And only the Lord knows why it was so important for me.

Of all the good things in my life, being "aunt laurel" really is one of the goodest.
I love each of my sibling's kiddos.
They bless my life in so many ways.

And this little guy, was a much needed blessing last weekend.
I love my James.

Sweet is...[Part 2]

I walked to my terminal after I said "good-bye" to my parents at the Richmond Airport on Monday.

And then, I felt a lump in my throat.

Suddenly I was a 10 year old little girl watching my parents go to their terminal as I went to mine. I felt the unbelievable pull to run back to them.

And hug my dad.

"Laurel. Seriously. You are 39. You're an adult. You're okay," I tried to tell myself.

But run I did.

I hugged my dad and the tears came.
Why on earth was I so sad?
Why do I worry that every time I say "good-bye" to him, it could be the last?
Why didn't I want to leave his side?

We didn't know when we would see each other next.
That was certainly part of it.
(Though I giggled when I landed in Atlanta to a text from my mom reminding me we have plans to see each other in 3 weeks).

But, it was more than that.

I have a fear of losing my dad while I'm still in this single state of mine.
I know plenty of girls who had have to bear that.
And I just have never felt like I had it in me to be one of them.
It's something I sincerely pray about.
Often.

"Please don't take him while I'm still alone."
I prayed that before my grandpa died.
But, I've said it much more intently ever since.

And so tonight, when I got home from the gym and I learned the father of one of my dearest friends (and also single-chica cousin) had taken a turn for the worse, I grabbed my jacket and my sweaty smelly self and rushed to the hospital.

I love my extended family.
I love them.
But, I rushed for her.

We both were impacted by the loss of our grandpa and have often talked about what we would do if we lost our dads. And I just couldn't bear the thought of what she was about to face. And I wasn't about to have her face that without me there.

Not because I thought she needed me.
But, I knew I was the only person that could walk into that room truly understanding what it was she was feeling.
Not because I've experienced it.
But because I fear it.

And why?
Why is it such a fear of mine?
What is it about the need a woman has for a man in her life?

I've spoken before about the power men have in the lives of their daughters. What I haven't talked about much...what is much too close to my heart to talk about even know...is the space that exists in the life of a single girl. That space that is meant to be filled by a man. I don't necessarily understand it.

But, I know that's the way it was meant to be.

It's not about not being "complete".
It's not about not being a "whole person".
It's not about desperation or a pathetic state.

It's about the Plan.

And while you're "waiting" (oh so very patiently) for that space to be filled, your father (and/or grandfather) seems to take an even more critical role.

He is the voice of reason.
He is the constant.
He is the love.
He is the protector.
He is the hero.

Until the other "he" can fill that space.

I just spent more than three hours in a hospital room, drenched in the spirit of the Gospel and the truth of the Plan of Salvation and so much family love. I gave my sweet cousin one last hug and then I walked, alone to my car.

And I cried in the elevator like I had on Monday.
I cried hard.
I cried for my cousin who is now being asked to do the thing I've plead with the Lord to spare me from.
I cried for my aunt who is losing her partner for a time.
I cried for cousins who are losing their papa.

I cried for me.

But as I got into my car, even alone, I felt a sweetness come over me.
The sweetness that comes from a God who takes care of me.
The sweetness that comes from a Father who knows me.
The sweetness that comes from the knowledge of a Plan the promises that everything works out in the end.

This doesn't change the desires of my heart.
This doesn't change the hope I have that my cute dad will be around long enough to see this chica end up with the love of her life.

But it does change this fear I've had.
And the fear is gone.

Because I do trust that God takes care of me,
that He loves me,
and that the plan...
HIS plan
has everything working out in the end.

And as it turns out, tonight, that's the sweetest truth of all.


(Interestingly enough, I wrote the below post earlier today. I scheduled it to post tonight just in case I had anything else I needed to add to it. It posted right as I got home but I couldn't go to bed tonight without posting again. Because I definitely had something else to add.)

praying for mi papa

This guy is in the hospital tonight.
They're taking care of an infection.
You can't mess around with those, you know.


In this old photo, he's holding a big cookie I made him once. (I'm guessing this picture is from like 1984).
He used to go on lots of trips for work and in the beginning, when it was kind of cool, I made a big deal every time he came home. I was dramatic like that.

Ordinarily, my dad being in the hospital would kind of freak me out.
It just would.
He never goes to the hospital just for fun.
And sometimes it's been very serious.
We've had lots of close calls with tall dad, you see.
SO...I'd be tempted to get on the next plane to STL even when I'm told he'll be okay.

But, I'm optimistic now, you know...trusting all will be well.
So, I'm here.
While he and mom are there.

I learned tonight that I really was taught optimism by this padre of mine. You see, Dad took on the job at some point of making my school lunches whenever he was in town.
And Dad's packed school lunches = notes. Sweet ones.

I found a few tonight.
(Do you remember these, Dad?)

Hey Kid-
Just take it one day at a time and pray for help.
Your Father in Heaven wants you to succeed.
I love you.
[apparently even back in the day, I had need for encouraging words]

So what I want to know is,
are you having a positive experience so far this week?
Just look to the bright side of life.
I love you
[look at dad being all "it's a wonderful world" like]

Then there is this gem that shows he would lie if it would save him a buck or two (kidding, Dad. just kidding.):

Hi my dear Laurel
Please feed Otto Saturday night
[note: Otto was our dog. he really deserves his own post one of these days]
Don't turn the air conditioner past 79. Turning it way down won't cool it off any faster than 79. Thanks.
[um, really, Dad? Cause I gotta tell ya, now that I'm a grown up, I've learned this SO isn't true. You sly dog, you.]
I love you Laurel. Be good.

And I love YOU, Dad. I'll be good. YOU get better.
xoxo

Praying for mi papa...

aunt laurel

I never planned to be "the favorite aunt"
because you typically get that title when you're the "single aunt"
and I never really planned on that.

But, for now, that's where I'm at.

And if the Lord needed me to be single for a season (because I actually believe He did...not forever though...let's be clear...but for a season), I assume He needed me to take the role of "aunt laurel" very seriously (and that part IS forever).
And I do.
Take it seriously. I mean.

I love these kids.
They are the source of so many good things that come in and out of my little heart.
And I'm grateful for siblings who share their children with that heart of mine...my mother heart.

I got to be with my family for a 48-hour Christmas (as a surprise...how fun is that?). It was delightful and much-needed and a blessing in many ways.

Sure, it was great to be with my parents and have my surprise appearance make them cry (because really...how fun is that?)

And sure it was great to see my siblings and have my brother David jump out of a closet and scare the living day lights out of me the first night (because really...how fun is that?)

But mostly, it was great because I give and get a whole lotta love from these kiddos:

(okay, so these kids aren't so much "kiddos" anymore. Isaac (15) and Hannah (13). Too tall. Too old. Too cool.)

(This is what "good-bye" looks like with my brothers kiddos. And I love it.)

Sometimes I think being aunt laurel is like the best job on the planet.
I get to just love them.
Without any of the responsibility.
Just love.

And though someday, I want to try my hand at the responsiblity part too, for now...
well, for now...
the Lord lets me be aunt laurel.

One of those times

This is a picture that sits framed on a shelf in my bedroom.
I look at it often.
It is one of my most treasured possessions.
It shows one of those times when the world had just taken the best of me.
And for whatever reason, I was sad.
And my mom was there.

She was always there for me.
I have very vivid memories of times when she was.

And the last little while has been one of those times when the world was taking the best of me.
And for multiple reasons, I was sad.
And my mom came here.

I do not have words for the way I felt when she walked into my kitchen Tuesday night.
But I cried like I was three.
My mommy had come to help me.
I was overwhelmed and grateful.
And she held me in her arms and just let me cry.

And then for five days, she took care of a lot of temporal needs that just needed to get done. She was a helper, cleaner, errand-runner, accountant, planner, organizer, partner, and FRIEND.

And just like when I was little, she was a comfort, a refuge, a safe place.

Sometimes a girl just needs her mom.
This was one of those times.

I love you, mom.
xoxo

"I still believe."

if you want to read a sweet little post about childhood innocence...and get a sweet little reminder about the power of believing,

read my little brother's post on his family blog.
(I loved this!)

My dad's neat.

My dad's neat.
My dad's nice.
My dad really does like rice.
If I have a problem,
If I seem sad,
My dad makes me very very glad.
If you like your pop
then give a little hop.
If you have a tear
my dad will bring you cheer.

Poetry like that just doesn't come around more than once in a person's lifetime (I mean, come on! I rhymed "nice" and "rice"!)
And so none of us were shocked to discover THE FRIEND wanted to publish it in the early 80s (it was on the kids page...you know, the one with the funny artwork?)
So, today I publish it again...in honor of my favorite dad.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Father 'o mine.

I love love love you.

Oh, and you really ARE neat...just so you know.

Still my grandpa

I think this week, more than ever before, I have been aware of and grateful for the sacred binding power of families...

There have been a handful of times this year when I've wanted so desperately to visit with my grandpa.

He would have LOVED the graduation.
And he would have gotten weepy when I showed him my book.
And I know I would have visited him several times the last few months and probably received a blessing of direction. He would have been hopeful about the prospect too.

He was so good like that.

I woke up this morning feeling all jumbled up.
I know part of it is that Heather is leaving tomorrow.
And part of it is my heart still feels a little confused.
But another part is I'm just feeling alone again.

Don't misunderstand.
I have so many friends and dear family all of who adore me.
And I have been blessed with an abundance of the spirit.
And, of course, I understand that we are never truly alone.

But, still...

And so after church today, Heather and I went up to the Salt Lake City Cemetaryand trekked through the snow to uncover this (and we really did have to uncover it).
And I stood there for a minute in the quiet of it all.

Heather asked, "I wonder what Grandpa is doing today?"

And I knew.
I knew.

He's still my grandpa.
And he's STILL looking out for me.

Sister's Keeper

I'm fairly certain the following conversations actually took place this week between God and my oldest sister, Heather. (& I admit some literary license in the retelling of said conversations.)

MONDAY
God: I need you to get on a plane to be with Laurel.
Heather: I know. I'm trying. But she's insisting she is okay.
God: You insist harder. She showed courage but this is rough on her. She needs you while she gets over this first week of "missing".

WEDNESDAY
God: Rough night, wasn't it?
Heather: She has no regrets. But she's so sad.
God: I know. I know. The heart's a tricky thing.


THURSDAY
Heather: Today was a good day. We took the gift card the boy gave her for Christmas (to use on pedicures) and she bought a new pair of running shoes. She wants to be a runner in 2010. I think she might actually do it.
God: Oh, she will. She was born to be a runner. I've tried to tell her that before.
Heather: It helps that the shoes are really cute.
God: Sounds like my Laurel.

FRIDAY
God: You do realize you didn't just come to eat really good food, right?
Heather: Oh, we thought that was part of the "healing process".
God: [laughs]

SATURDAY
Heather: She chose the temple over shopping today. And then we went and got pedicures with the gift card the boy gave her.
God: I thought she used the gift card to buy the running shoes!
Heather: Well, she did. But...
God: Now THAT's my Laurel.


Dear Heather:
This was going to be a rough week for your sister. But, you helped her ask the right questions and remember how she felt last weekend. You helped her make sense of it all. As much as I was aware and as clearly as I was speaking to her, she needed you. And so did I. Thank you for being...your sister's keeper.
Love, God


This is us right after seeing YOUNG VICTORIA. Stop whatever you are doing right now and go see it. Seriously.
This is a sampling of just some of the yummy food this week.
And it just happens to be one of my favorite restaurants in all of SLC.
We SO thought we'd have leftovers to take home. Ooops.
Heather...43 yrs old and a pedicure virgin.
Me? Not so much. I do it all the time. I told her the "mindless magazines" are part of the experience.
How pretty are our feet? I think Heather is converted.

"Give me twenty"

My dad traveled a lot when we were younger.
Many weeks he'd be gone 3 nights in a row for weeks in a row.
And he served in very committed roles in the Church and so sometimes he just wasn't around as much as we would have liked.

I remember that occassionally he would bring us little gifts from his trips.

For example, we used to play the "Alphabet Game" a lot on car trips as a family. (You know the one...you look for all the letters of the alphabet on billboards and the first person to "Z" wins.)
Well, there was never a "Q" when you needed one.
And so, one time my dad found little wooden "Q"s and gave them to us so we would always have a "Q" for the Alphabet Game.

But, I think my favorite Dad gift was a little nametag style pin.
It said simply:

"Give me twenty"

The intention was that whenever we needed time with our dad, we just had to wear the pin to let him know.

I'm pretty sure I was the only kid who thought wearing the pin was cool.
I'm pretty sure I was the only kid who wore it.
And I'm pretty sure I wore it a lot.
I was needy like that.

Well, last night my dad let me know in his own little way that he needed "twenty".
I was honored and delighted.
I love him.
And I love that he was needy too.

And so this morning in St. Louis, we set out to go to breakfast at this place:


And we were SO excited (how cute is my dad for playing along. Cute, right? And don't judge my "self portrait" skills. 6'7" dads are super hard to take self-portraits with.)

But, then, the excitement left. And we were sad (again, Dad totally knew the importance of the perfect pic for my blog).

Because of this...

So, we found another place for breakfast, though not nearly as yummy.
But, the yummy-ness didn't matter.
We weren't there for the food.

We were there for the twenty.

And we talked about stuff that was silly.
And stuff that was important...really important...especially for me right now.

And he told me things he hadn't said before.
And I shared things I haven't told anyone.
And we talked.

And we gave each other twenty.
A couple of them, actually.

We were needy like that.