Six Pack

Lizzie asked, "What's a six pack?"
Sam lifted his shirt baring his torso and said proudly, "THIS!"

Mother Pride

Today Sam had his Suzuki Viola Book 1 Recital. Sam has been taking violin/viola lessons for 3 1/2 years. At the end of his first two years he was halfway through book two. THEN, he started taking lessons with Denise Willey.  His first teacher Carrie was marvelous because 1) she came to our house 2) was very inexpensive 3) Did not require much out of Sam or me  and 4) instilled in him a love for the violin. We switched teachers because I could tell that it was time to take Sam to the next level and he wanted to play the viola instead of the violin. Mrs. Willey required perfection and knows how to teach it! She started Sam again at the beginning of book 1 and 1 1/2 years later  he JUST FINISHED the book. He has been the best sport. I am shocked by how long it takes to unlearn habits and re-learn new ones! I am amazed at the precision with which he plays and yet with all the demands placed on him for perfection he still loves to play. In my opinion that balance is the mark of a good teacher.

I loved watching him play those 26 memorized songs. He did such an amazing job! I felt so grateful for his patience and determination. I saw that his arms were getting a little tired yet he persevered. In French there are two words for "Proud": "Fiere" (pronounced fee-err) and "orgeuilleux" (or-goy-you). I always loved this distinction because for the French it is ok to feel the pride a parent feels when their children work hard and do well. (fiere) Of course even the French aren't allowed to feel ok about the other kind of pride where they feel that their children are the smartest, best children in the whole world and therefore they must be the best parents in the world!! (orgeuilleux)

Today I was proud (fiere) of Sam for who he is. I am thankful for his talents and hard work. Music and the discipline of the Suzuki program are molding our children into individuals who can do hard things. Best of all it is helping them to have humility. Who can be proud (orgeuilleux) when you are risking failure while performing for an audience? Who can be proud when they are overcome with the beauty of music? It is so much bigger than ourselves. Like looking at the night sky, when we are listening to (and performing) inspired music we can feel small and insignificant yet lifted to the highest heights through the spirit!

Car Talk

I overheard Anna in the car saying, "I'm a good girl! I don't say potty talk! I say, 'I'd be happy to!'"

Lizzie shared this joke:
Q. What do you say when you get 100% on your math test?
A. It's a mathterpiece!

I just read this post to Grant and he added his own math joke:
Q: What did the math book say to the pencil?
A.  I've got lots of problems.
Q: What did the pencil say back to the math book?
A: I'm not a therapist. Solve your own problems!

Apparently every child he has told this joke to at the door entering school this week has loved it. 

My Little Scientist

Sam went outside to feed the animals and came back with a bleeding tongue. Of course it is easy to figure out why...He wanted to be a Myth Buster! He wasn't sure if putting your tongue on a pole in freezing weather was a myth or not and so he did what every good scientist would do and tried it out for himself! Myth...not busted. Even with the pain, he still wants to be on the Myth Buster show when he grows up. It combines science with explosions and excitement! Every boy's dream come true.

What is Family?

Published in Logan Herald Journal from January 15 to January 17, 2013 

Our loving husband, father and grandfather passed away Jan. 12, 2013, after a courageous battle with interstitial lung disease. Greg was born Oct. 16, 1951, in Fort Sill, Okla., to Kenneth and Yvonne Howell. He was the oldest of seven children. Greg spent his childhood in Manti, Utah, and graduated from Manti High School. After obtaining a degree in Finance from the University of Utah, he spent the majority of his career as a mortgage banker. He was a man of integrity and valued honesty in all of his business dealings.

On July 23, 1981, he married Andrea Felt and they were later sealed in the Logan LDS Temple. They are the proud parents of five children. Greg had a strong testimony and faithfully served in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in various capacities. 

Extremely patriotic, he also served his country as a captain in the Utah National Guard. Greg was a commander of Battery C in the 145th Field Artillery Unit and continued his love for marksmanship throughout his life. He also enjoyed volunteering at the Cache Valley Public Shooting Range.

Greg had an unquenchable thirst for adventure. He loved world travel, aviation and riding his motorcycle. He was an avid outdoorsman who loved sharing his knowledge and enthusiasm with his family. Greg also enjoyed hunting - especially pheasant hunting with his dog. Handy with tools, he could fix anything and took pride in quality workmanship. He could often be found working on his Toyota Land Cruiser.

Greg's greatest pride, however, was his family. He is survived by his wife and eternal companion Andrea; children Megan (Michael) Bennett, Jordan (Rachel), Robert, Lauren and Rachel; daughters Allexis (Jeff) Owen and Candice (Grant) Beckwith from a previous marriage; 10 grandchildren; mother Yvonne; and siblings Deborah Mangum, Cynthia (Matt) Thalman, Kerri (Mark) Rawlins, Kathy (Max) Anderson, Loraine Mitchell and Blake (Jennifer) Howell. He was preceded in death by his father Kenneth and brother-in-law Mike Mangum.

Honoring his wishes, no funeral or viewing will be held. A family graveside service will occur Wednesday morning at the North Logan City Cemetery. In lieu of flowers, please donate to the LDS Church Perpetual Education Fund.

We will miss his sense of humor, quick wit, hugs, playful spirit, listening ear and sound advice. Although we miss him immensely, we know that the separation is temporary and we will be reunited as a family again someday.

I've been waiting to post this obituary while I try to sort out my feelings.  I just felt like putting it up without any comments because not only are my feelings complicated, but when it comes to some things I am ashamed of how I feel.  I'm not proud of my personal pity parties or my thoughts of "It's not fair."  I would rather squash that part of myself and focus on the part of me that knows that there is a master plan and all things are as they should be.  I would rather only have grateful thoughts about how lucky I am to have a dad (Fred) who has loved me and nurtured me for nearly thirty years. But in an effort to be real, I am just going to lay it all out there.  Who am I to pretend to be perfect? (Especially when everybody who knows me knows that I am not!) Who am I to not allow others their grief, tears and weakness because I am not willing to admit mine? So here we go...

 
I think it is strange that I had to find out through an obituary things about my own father that I didn't know. I am not mourning his death but rather a lifetime of missed opportunities.  At the funeral home there was a slide show of his life. I was in two pictures. One from a day when I was five or so that I didn't even remember and one from last summer when we invited the whole family over for dinner. Why don't I have a single picture of him holding me or of us together? At the funeral I felt like I was some sort of fake or an interloper; pretending to be a daughter yet only a few of the people there even knew who I was. When the coffin was being closed and his children and wife gathered around him for their final, tearful goodbyes, my place was not in that circle. And at the graveside there where chairs set up for his wife and children but none for Lex or me. Which was not only OK since I had no tears to shed for him but also very strange at the same time. I felt sorry that when he was eulogized and described as a man who was always there for you that he wasn't there for me. I am sad and a little angry that I never got to hear his side of the story. What was his motivation in giving up his parental rights and allowing my sister and I to be adopted by my dad (Fred)? I want to believe that it was a gut wrenching, difficult decision that he made because he truly felt like it was the best thing for us. (And not because he didn't want to pay back child support like I was once told.) I want to believe that he prayed about it, agonized over it and even sometimes mourned over it. I like those thoughts better than the nagging ones that come to me about how he loved the idea of a fresh start with a new wife and family and without living reminders of a time that was unpleasant for him. After all, although he rarely (if ever) initiated contact he was often willing when we did! (That must count for something right?)  

Ok, ok, I have given those feelings enough air time. There is no room for those in a grateful heart right? Really, how can I be grateful and feel life is unfair at the same time? Can I? Because despite all the strange, uncomfortable, sad feelings I had that day, mostly I just felt so grateful that even with this dad gone, I still had one, and one that is full of love and attention for me. One who claims me as his daughter in a thousand ways, and not just in name alone. One that claims my children who share none of his blood as his grandchildren. Last summer when the Howells were over for dinner, Sam and Lizzie just happened to be in South Carolina because dad had flown them out to come and see him for a week! There is so much irony in this. And while I am on the topic of Fathers, I must express how grateful I am for my Heavenly Father who through the spirit pretty much nagged me for a year to invite the Howells  over for dinner. We were together for the first time in five years this summer for a wonderful evening and now he is gone and I feel no guilt for having missed an opportunity to see him one last time. That indeed was a tender mercy.  

So what is family? Is it a connection by blood and shared genetic traits? Yes. Is it an investment of time? Yes! Time most of all. It is being there at the crossroads. It is failing, trying again, failing again, starting over together, forgiving, loving despite weakness, learning together and never, never giving up. 

Our House is Still Standing

I'm trying to have a good perspective and a little gratitude. These are the things we have had to have repaired in the last three months:

1) Our dishwasher stopped working-it appears to be receiving no power. Last month the top rack broke, this summer it stopped working, and last fall it flooded all over our newly refinished hardwood floor because of a faulty seal. All this from a dishwasher that is only 18 months old!

2) Our garage door wouldn't close.

3) Our furnace went out. We froze for a few hours and paid $500 to replace the motor

4) Our washing machine stopped working.

5) The piece you stick the seat belt into broke and has to be replaced. 

6)  Our toilet keeps breaking

These are the things that could have happened (this is the gratitude part):

1) Our dishwasher could have exploded shooting shards of plates and glass all over our kitchen

2) Our garage door could have gotten stuck closed and we couldn't go anywhere

3) Our furnace could have been leaking carbon monoxide and we could have all died

4) Our washing machine could start putting rust spots on all our clothes like the machine we used in Russia instead of just not working at all.

5) The seat belt could have malfunctioned while we were in an accident sending one of my children careening through a window. At least it broke because the extreme cold weather we have been having cracked the plastic  and not while it needed to have some weight on it.

6) Our toilet keeps running, the handle falls off and sometimes it doesn't flush.  All of these things are better than a flood of sewage all over the house!

And above all else, our house is still standing! And we can afford to fix these things so we aren't living in a freezing house, with a perpetually open garage, and having to use dirty dishes and wear dirty clothes.