Mina Chan Hearts Rilakkuma

This is a story about a little girl and her teddy bear. Mina lived her first 3 1/2 years of life in Japan. For her first Christmas, when Mina was 10 months old, she went with her family on a vacation to Tokyo. Here is a picture of Mina on this trip.

One night, while browsing through the Tokyo shops, Mina's always thoughtful mother, the lovely Rachel, picked out a teddy bear to give to Mina. Mina's father, the pragmatic Brett, assumed it would be just another stuffed animal, most of whom, he did not love at all.  This bear seemed pretty regular, except it had a dragon costume hat on and it was holding a baby dragon (I guess it doesn't sound that regular). And dragons around new years seemed to be some sort of thing. The back of the bear had a fake zipper and a "2012" written in yellow.

Here it is (well, just the front):

So, it turned out that Mina liked the bear. It was always her first choice. It soon became her oldest bear she had, and when she moved back to the US, it was her special Japanese bear.  When it was time to take something to show and tell, she would take this bear. When it came time to pack for a long drive back west, and she could only bring one stuffed animal, Mina brought the bear.

It's clearly her favorite. However, she never named it. She told the pragmatic Brett a few months ago that it is weird that she never named her bear, because a name that fit wouldn't come to her, so she said she'll just call it "Teddy Bear."  

Fast forward to spring break 2021. The bear is now 9 years old. Mina and her family were driving to Florida and obviously brought Teddy Bear along, like she always did.  A few days into the trip Mina and her family went to EPCOT. As Mina and her family made away around all the different countries that are represented, they found themselves in the Japan area. One building there was dedicated to "Kawaii", which was described as "Japan's cute culture." 

And who did they see?

That's right, Hello Kitty was there in all her glory. Showing off.

But who was next to her?  This guy!

What? It's Mina's bear. He is on display? There is a description about him? And best of all, he has a name!  Rilakkuma.

Mina's dad ran over to Mina, grabbed her hand, and showed her this discovery. They read the description, and it could not have been more pleasing. a bear that lounges all day and likes to eat pancakes? Just like the Garfield comics Mina loves to read. And he likes to dress in animal costumes? Mina loved it, and it helped explain why her teddy bear was in a dragon costume. 

And now it finally had its name. They just needed to learn to pronounce it.  Good thing on YouTube there is a stop animation show with Rilakkuma as the star.  

Then we saw Rilakkuma in other areas of Kawaii. Here he is:

And he's on shirts!

Mina was excited to get back to her Rilakkuma, who was waiting for her in the car. She could not have been more pleased.  She had no idea that a trip to EPCOT would lead to her discovering the secret identity of her favorite bear, who apparently has a lot of merch.  Maybe not Hello Kitty level, but still... 

She talked about it for days, it made her so happy. And we doesn't love a happy Mina Chan?

 

Learning Birthdays and Life in the Deployment Lane

In the first year of our marriage Brett learned how much I care about birthdays. I remember it very clearly. There was a U of I  football game that weekend that he was excited about it. We were all pretty busy, being each of our last year of college. We didn’t have much money so when we went to the Temple the Friday before we also went to Quizno’s for dinner. I said this could be my birthday dinner. (Said, not meant!) Anyways the next day we were, busy with this, that and the other. And I was devastated. We didn’t really do anything. My actual birthday was on a Sunday and I had expected Brett to do something nice before hand. But Sunday morning there  I was- crying at the edge of my bed. Feeling forgotten and then walks in Nigel. He came in quietly and calmly. I remember his big eyes, brown and wide and listening to me. I miss those brown eyes. Anyways, I can’t recall how exactly the message was relayed to Brett, but I’m sure there were more tears (And confusion on his part because I did “SAY” I was fine- ha, poor Brett!). As amazing, happy and sweet life was that first year of marriage, I cried ALOT. In retrospect this seems like the perfect introduction for Brett to prepare to have 4 daughters.

Fast forward 11 years later. It’s my birthday, and Brett is deployed to U. A. E. He sends me a message (in the form of a Power Point) that he’s got me a ticket to Dubai! Stephanie is set up to babysit the kids even. It would end up being probably the most amazing trip of my life. (If someone could of told Rachel to hold on 11 years ago- life is going to be better than fine!)

The deployment itself has been extremely hard but really good for me as a person and a mom. I started homeschooling the kids and am learning how to do new things. The most important thing I have learned is how to say “no” more and at the same time how to be more productive. The kids themselves are more productive, leaning piano even and doing chores. Its been stressful- that’s for sure. But I am so glad I made the harder choice because I find at the end of each day I am happier and there is a more “Whole” feeling in our family. The girls get to play more, be flexible and have created a tighter bond than ever. Its amazing how they love each other, especially Marie and Mina.

Living with my family during the deployment has been the easiest, hands down best choice I have made this entire 6 months. Everyday goes by pretty quickly. With Malcolm home Mon & Tue its awesome to have an adult (who is funny) around to talk to. In the Fall Marcus would come by 3 times a week to work in his studio. He gave the girls piano lessons once a week and has helped them greatly. It was also really nice to hear him play his own medleys on the piano while the girls and I do school. He started classes at BSU this January as he is going for his second degree. We miss having him around so much. On Wednesdays we, or just Marie and Mina meet my Dad at Idaho Pizza for lunch. The girls LOVE this new tradition. I am so glad they get to spend this time with their Grandpa. How foolish it would have been to stay in Florida! My mom works so much, but when she is home she’s trying to help the girls paint, craft, or some other messy activity I don’t have the temperament for. She’s a great grandma. And also we have gone to Utah once a month and spend time with Aunt Stephanie and cousins. What an amazing addition to life for someone like me who is constantly seeking to add good family memories to her children’s mental “scrapbook.”

We have been so blessed. I am grateful for prayer. I have prayed soo much this last year. Its been harder than ever. I have also not prayed. I have had moments of hardness and anger and weeks and weeks without real scripture study. I am grateful for Gods patience when I am finally and intermittently willing to pray and put forth, what I will call, small blocks of effort. Apparently, in all his grace, He accepts those too. Even from one as needy and crazy as me.

Marie's Baptism

This is Marie.  I am excited to get baptized.  I got my interview today. The bishop asked me a question of why I want to get baptized.  My answer was that our sins can be washed away.  I know that our sins can be washed away because Jesus atoned for our sins.  I am getting baptized in Idaho Falls.  I hope that you guys can come.

Gratitude, Preparation for Loss, Endurance & Joy

 A year ago, I was a hot mess. Well, at least more than usual. 8 months pregnant and a 30 days to find a new place to live with 3 kids at home. Life was... lemons. As I wrote previously, I wasn't sure what the Lord had in store for me. This was a mean trick, especially after all the praying and fasting I had done to ask that the Lord help us live in the right house before moving to Virginia a year earlier.

 

Good news. We now live in the right house. It's smaller, but less expensive. We live in a great neighborhood. Our school is good and Marie's 2nd grade teacher was sweet and kind.  But our Ward... the Vienna 2nd- is everything I have needed in a ward. I meant to write a post about gratitude in October. To comment on the lovely little co-op preschool our ward does and how many friends Mina had made. How my visiting teacher, Cami White, cares about me and takes care of me. How our home teacher, Lance Walker, remembered my birthday while Brett was working out of the country. How the primary class I thought I couldn't teach turned out to be the most smart and mature bunch of kids, and how Marie was in there. So many things.

But I didn't know why I was really in that ward until Nigel passed on.

Nigel died April 12, 2016. It wasn't until then, and the crazy events surrounding his death did I realize the Lord was taking me out of my former, pretty good situation, and putting me EXACTLY where people would love me, invest themselves in me, and catch me when I needed it most. He was preparing me for loss by putting me in a good situation.

I am so grateful.

 

Some of what the Lord does takes forever to understand, but this lesson, it took about 10 months.

 

 

Nigel once said to me, "Rachel, don't have 5 kids. Have an even number. One always gets left out."   

Poor Nigel, born #3 of 5 kids, smack in the middle. He felt like he had no partner. We all loved him, but I think he always felt a misfit. But the real truth is, that his placement was no mistake. He was the center. He would connect us. He always brought our family back together.

 

Note: the picture below has a twin and I am bound to find it. Taken 20+ years earlier at the Yellowstone Continental Divide, we ranged from 2-9 years of age .  I love it, because he's not in the center in this one, he connects Marcus to Malcolm. And I connect Jesse and Marcus, aligning us tight together where we belong. It reminds me to be a better person. As close to the Lord as Nigel was, so that I do my part to keep us together.

 

 

 

 

Another trinket about Nigel is how relaxed his sense of humor could be. He was probably closer to Brett than any of my brothers. A lot because he lived with us for a year, but also because he was just so silly and easy to make Brett laugh.

 

 

He LOVED birthdays. Didn't matter if it was his or not. Just loved a good time and wanted everyone to be happy.  He never grew out of this.

 

 

He also love my kids. Above is him and Marie at 2 months.  He babysat her and she fussed and fussed. But he patiently held her in his big arms until she fell asleep.

 

 

 

I ache that since we lived in Japan during most of Mina's life that I have really only this picture with him and her. It was taken at Yellowstone in 2014 after we moved back to America. Mina is most like Nigel out of all my children. A little stubborn, a little wild, very caring, and all heart.

 

 

 

This also was taken at Yellowstone. Though his last years will always be marked by his struggle with schizophrenia, it will also be marked by his strong desire to show his family, especially his nieces and nephew how much he loved them.

 

This picture is the final one I would take of him. I am so sad when I see it. Showing him Eve for the first time. He, in all his sickness barely able to convey emotion the way he wanted. But his eyes say it all. He loved that little girl. Full confidence in her goodness and what she and her sisters will do for the world they grow up in.

Maybe it doesn't make me sad.

The terrible loss of him brings me closer to the truth. What is real. What matters. His death sets me on that straight course back to God. That course, though strict, has many happy and joyous moments on it; Marie's baptism, more family time, more lightness through leaning on Christ. Maybe it brings me joy.

 

So thank you for reading, if you have made it this far. I will wrap it up with a picture of a good moment, and a poem from my late Grandmother Lucille Perry.  

 

 

 Quaint witcheries of memory

Enchant the past days I have known;

Mundanely lived, now poetry

With all prosaic features flown. 

 

Move #8

I am happy to announce I reached my goal of ignoring my blog for a really long time.

Actually, I've deferred to writing in the physical form of the Millburn family journal. However, I think the following post should be left somewhere in cyberspace for our posterity to find. I will never know if the physical forms will be lost or even make it through the next move. Which is what I am about to talk about.

7 moves. 9 years. I don't think that's something to brag about, but its just life. Most all of the moves were anticipated, planned months in advance, and had much excitement built up for them. In the next two weeks we will move for our 8th time. Unplanned and unprepared for.

Its a local move, so its not like the Air Force had anything to do with it. More of a long winded story about a landlord who was not easy to deal with in the first place and who decided that selling his 60 year old house was best.

But I'm pregnant. And about to have this precious baby in 4 weeks. The same week the lease is up. And there is no paid team of professional movers provided by the Air Force.

For the record, I just didn't think it would happen. When I got pregnant last November, a happy little surprise, I thought, "Obviously we wont move in August, because that is when the baby is due." And I recited that for the next 8 months.

Yet here we are and I have to confess I can't remember the last time feeling so overwhelmed, shocked, and heartbroken. I can barely make dinner without getting tired. So packing a house seems like a punch in the face. Not to mention leaving the few friends I have made. Mostly, my good friend Shazia and her family whose children my kids love, her oldest daughter who is the worlds best babysitter, and not to mention our much needed "grown up" chats after taking care of kids all day. She is my first Muslim friend and I am her first "American friend" she calls me. I love her and her family very much and am not looking forward to not being able to see her every day or every other day.

The first few days of this shock were a dead end. Especially the parental guilt you feel when you know you are going to change your kids life.... again. My dad was here though, just for a casual visit at first. But later it turned into a "how much work can I get my dad to do in 2 days" visit.

But he made me promise when I left I would ask my ward for help. A ward I don't really know as I've been here less than a year and been in primary (of course) the entire time. I finally emailed the compassionate service person and laid it all out for her. That felt really good. Sometimes its easy to feel like the people around you don't care or wouldn't be there for you, but that is just not the case. True, people are busy, but they want to care. And the Church is set up so perfectly organized that service can happen. Once I contacted one person the Relief Society president, Donna Doll, called me up the next day and offered every service in the world. Meals, babysitters, cleaners, heavy lifters, and my favorite, the Missionaries. I don't need meals, and shouldn't need babysitters, but when the Missionaries came over that day they did plenty of lifting I couldn't do. Simple things like lifting a box of books to take up stairs. Taking down the drapes. And hours in the garden that I had let overrun as I grew more tired with this pregnancy. Also, one the few friends I have from church watched the girls so I could girls so I could get more done. She has 3 tiny kids including a small baby. But I know the goodness in her, all the Christ like attributes she has came into play when she took the courage to ask if she could help. I know it wasn't easy, but she made it seem like it was.
It really is embarrassing to need help. But when people have Christ in their hearts they don't make you feel embarrassed, they just make you feel loved and lift your burden.

I love this church organization so much, because it brings my closer to Christ in ways I would have not designed for myself.

Our saga continues as we continue to pack and look for a new place, but my burden is lighter.

Reluctantly crouched at the starting line