Thursday, February 26, 2009

e t e r n a l

Now that I'm getting a little age on my back, I've been thinking about who I am, how I've changed, and why I could happily be buried in the Colorado River running silty through the Grand Canyon.

You see my point is, that I once hiked through The Grand Canyon and was annoyed to learn that the average visit time was fifteen minutes. And how if I tried to hike right now, I would probably cry and not even have fun. My body testifies of a different life. But my spirit remembers. And smiles.


And how I truly in my heart adore old friends who are sacrificing their taut figures, and degrees, raising little kids who love the Lord. Seeing them do this knowing that once we slept on the trampoline under the stars, dreamed about boys together, or jogged alongside Idaho wheat fields makes motherhood more inspiring to me.


And hearing stories about The Mister's Grandma B (of those yummy caramel marshmallows) and how she grew up in the Depression. Her dirt-poor folks scrounged to get enough sugar to make...lollipops. Just one lollipop for each kid at Little Bernice's birthday party. Excited, she invited her entire class to her birthday party. She proudly displayed the suckers as a rare sweet treat for her guests. Then she waited. And waited. and no one came.

And you know what? She refused to celebrate her birthday for years. Oh, she was giving and loving and serving. But when it came to her birthday, forget it. Get back to her tomorrow. In her 80's, her family finally said enough is enough and threw a surprise party for her.




She was surprised alright. And she cried like a little girl.

Her body testified of service, love, and hours of cooking for her five kids. But her spirit remembered. And what? maybe it was relief. I'm sure it was part love. plus a little sad. maybe.


Power mother and dear friend who was horribly abused by various men in her life, some related. Pulling up the past and looking at it square in the face and empowering herself to rewrite history:


"It was not my fault. I am clean."

A piece of her will always be rising above the pain to love, serve, and protect her family. And as a testament to the wondrous nature of our spirits (as divinely gifted by a loving Heavenly Father) she has powered through the pain to be filled with more compassion, more love.


A piece of me will always feel a sisterhood for female returned missionaries. A piece of me will always wish I was carefree and careless on Apache Avenue. A piece of me will always cheerlead a woman giving birth at home. A piece of me will always be a daughter. Now a wife. A piece of me...someday...will always remember and cherish little chubby arms reaching across my head, tripping me when I turn from the sink, crying when their toy is broken, and peeing their bed.

Okay, not the last one. Just checking if you were still with me.

And so I lay awake at night, and see SIXTY just around the corner. And hope to have some eternal friends who will look back with me, and remember, and smile. Because a piece of me will always pray, and hope, and yearn that my children will rise up knowing their divine heavenly parentage, and that...in spite of me...and maybe even because of me...they will be happy.










the end.



9 comments:

Lee Family said...

Can I be one of your eternal friends that will look back, remember, and smile?
i love ya.

KKB said...

KellYou seem so...you!
It is so to find all of these people that are out there...living their lives, and so full of what is good about us. I miss seeing you, Amber.

It sounds like you have some great kids. I love that wet mattress smell, personally. It just reeks of childhood. -Kelly B

Wade and Marilyn said...

That was beautiful. It made me cry.

earwaxtasteslikecrayons said...

Great post. I love that talk by President Uchtdorf. The story about your Grandma is one of the saddest things I've ever heard.

Wendy

Bridget said...

Wow I'm glad I finally checked out your blog- you are a really amazing and creative person and this was a great post, tho the constant reminders of getting older are still a bit of a jolt. I too remember sleeping on trampolines and hiking through so much of the west and constantly being amazed at the beauty and fully underappreciating my body's ability to carry me through. Now, get me a hotel and a balconey- maybe one day I'll be that outdoor woman again, but not today!

Mrs. Olsen said...

Kelly, I am so happy I was able to track you down through f-book. Thanks for sharing the love on the blah-g. I have spent considerable amounts of time a-looking for the one christmas letter that I thought had your address (but never found) b-looking you up through FL whitepages when I went back there in 2007 c-hoping you are well and happy.

And Bridget, you are cool. This post borders on a mid-life crisis and your comments always seem to lighten me up.

Niki, we will always be looking back and saying remember when? and laughing that we are mothers now and/or pretending to be grown-ups. I love you too!

Monica said...

When our kids are all grown, let's all get in fabulous shape and hike the Grand Canyon! What do you say? I never did anything like that when I was younger (you know, being 30+ years old since 1985). You can be our tour guide. I love your posts, Bos!

Napes said...

....it is when I read posts like these that I remember in my soul that there are other women out there thinking and breathing and drinking from the same well. Children, husbands, trial, humility, the gospel, and even missions that shaped who we are- and even who we aren't now adays. And to know we served in the same mission with the same president- same companions, same areas...it is as if we speak a language that only we can know.

Sometimes when I feel lost or lonely because no one understands, I read this blog. It is then that the language I have spoken once is legable for me to read and taste again.

It is then that familiarity sweeps over me in love. Mmm.

Mrs. Olsen said...

Monica, you're on sis. Please carry me when we start going uphill.

Napes, there is a treasure box of experiences to which you are one of the few that holds the key. How can I fully explain all that took place in the FLjax mission? I can't.

"Children, husbands, trial, humility, the gospel, and even missions that shaped who we are- and even who we aren't now adays." Love that they help shape who we aren't as well.