1. Moments of epiphany that bring me closer to who I am supposed to be.
2. The anticipation of upcoming road trips!
3. Excitement at the prospect of more schooling. I can’t believe I just said that.
4. Feeling rested and refreshed.
5. Recognizing what is happening in the world around me.
A reflection I wrote years ago.
“I left my home this morning. The sun was up, but not over the mountain yet, and I went to the cemetery. The air was crisp–so much so that I had to bring my hands into my hoodie sleeves for warmth. I walked the lanes, one after the other, in a brisk pace. The air was filled with an organic, earthy scent. As I walked I read headstones and thought of the hundreds of souls who rest there. I wondered about their stories and trials and challenges and came to the conclusion that there were so many more troubles buried in that little cemetery than there could ever be in my own life. It made me grateful to have the problems that I have, the burdens I carry, and that I have the hope of overcoming them no matter how small they may be. I realized that I was walking among friends, brothers and sisters, who now surely have an insight to the lifelong mysteries that we struggle with. Some of them, quite literally, are friends that have passed and have left their legacy of faithfulness behind. And one day, I will join them and leave a legacy filled with my own signature heritage. As the sun crested the mountain and hit the cemetery, (At long last! Warmth!) the dew on the grass became a carpet of millions of diamonds. The sunlight gave the moisture on the grass a different job now–to pave the ground with a sparkling celebration glorifying the stone tributes that so gracefully and prominently proclaim the lives of those who lay beneath them. It was beautiful. It really was.
It reminds me of another time, years ago, when I was in a cemetery in the morning. We were in Omaha, visiting Jason’s sister and family, looking in a cemetery a bit north of the Winter Quarters Temple. We happened to be looking for my great, great, great grandfather’s grave. Daniel Brown, that’s who we were looking for. It was misty and green and quiet, despite the fact that we were just a stones throw from a highway. It was silent and the air was thick with the feeling that this was sacred ground. It was Easter Sunday and I will never forget the impression that I had telling me that we were not alone there. It made me step a little lighter and whisper, instead of speak. There were spirits there, perhaps just for that day, and their message was drenched in the good hope of the resurrection. They wait for Him and have hope in Him and the things that only He can do. It was the strongest testimony I have ever had regarding the resurrection and the necessity to the family of man that it is. I felt it more deeply in my heart than anything else that has so reverently and beautifully been given to me and I remember how astonishingly lovely that place was. How amazing the atonement and resurection are. How deeply moving the compassion and love that our Savior has for each one of us is, even for those that have no earthy cares. I know he loves me and I know he loves you.
I never did find Daniel, though I did come to know that I probably walked on him at some point. He lies in an unmarked grave. I am sure that this man, who walked and talked with the prophets of God, has the same faith that his great great great grand-daughter has. His faith carried him from North Carolina to Nebraska. My faith carries me from one day to the next.”
A peaceful and warm Easter to all of us who wait in gratitude and hope.
1. Finding a friend I had lost many years ago. Learning of their success in life–the joy that comes from that is such a solid, satisfying feeling.
2. Spring! Spring is coming, I just know it! (fingers crossed…)
3. When my eyelashes curl “just right” and the mascara is perfect.
4. The realization that love is a cognitive, conscious decision. Yes, it’s true.
5. EMT certification done! Passed! Success!!
For one crazy moment in late winter of last year, I had a total lapse of judgement. In that brief spot of time, I found a dog for our family to adopt….after swearing that we would never again be a family with a dog. What is more, this dog was an ‘indoor’ dog. The kind that shares your carpets and furniture with you. Oh, so risky! (At least, thats what my insides were telling me as I contemplated bringing home said doggy.)
This dog was an eight year old Jack Russell Terrier. Insert horror story here:________________. Everyone I met told me that they were full of energy and had simply nightmarish stories to share. But did it dissuade me? No. In that crazy moment (which, looking back, seems more like a couple of days now that I think about it) I decided to surprise the family with the new Jack Russell. Her name? Jersey. We brought her home much to the surprise and delight of the kids. She immediately made herself one of the family, despite the attempts by her to eat another one of our family members, Gringo the parakeet. Every day that dog would stand at attention and look at old Gringo in his cage, salivate, bark and wag her tail as if she just KNEW how tasty a little bite of parakeet would be.
Oh, we experienced both the joys and sorrows of dog ownership. Sorry carpet! Sorry upholstery! Sorry nose! (It was sometime last month I finally came to the realization that I was allergic to Jersey. Uh oh!) We loved taking her for walks and runs. Even the occasional bike ride where she doubled as the slave dog and pulled us along. She loved us. She loved Luke and would happily sleep with him at night, the two of them curling up together. Buddies on his bed.
Jersey loved to be scratched and rubbed anywhere it was convenient–and inconvenient! If I sat with my legs crossed she would strategically place herself in the absolute closest proximity to my foot so it would have easy access to her belly (aka. straddling my foot.) Then she would patiently wait. Some days it paid off for her. Some days it didn’t. She was never one to turn down a free belly rub, whether it be a pity rub or not!
She was a jumper! A bounder! A barker when the doorbell rang! A friend! A companion! She was ready to guard our home and could sound like a vicious guard dog. But she was a lover. She loved her people.
In March, we lost our Jersey Girl. In a mishap that couldn’t be re-constructed if we tried, Jersey ran headlong into the wheel of a moving vehicle. Lucas saw it happen. He scooped her up and ran home with her in his arms. When he reached our house and sat on the couch with her, she was already gone and our hearts were broken. Jason made her a casket and we all decorated it with sharpies–drawing pictures, writing messages and stories and trying to fill every space on the outside of that box with all of the love we felt for our little companion. She was buried in my parent’s backyard, along with every other family pet that has passed since the early 60′s. We didn’t want her to be alone and so, there she is planted among the other loves that have come and gone before her.
We only speak of her every so often, as her passing is still tender, but we can all feel that she is missing. When the house is quiet and the kids are at school, I miss her, keeping me company and trying to beg a belly rub here and there. She was my pal; my little shadow. She kept me on my toes.
As we go on and life keeps coming at us, we will forget the pain and remember Jersey as the spunky, loveable dog that left an impression on our little family. No other dog can take her place which is why we probably will never get another family dog again. Famous last words.
We love you dearly, Jersey Girl!
1. A warm, semi-clean house.
2. The unprovoked, innocent hugs of my five year old boy.
3. My comfy, overstuffed chair and ottoman. I could live on this, 24-7.
4. Only 3 weeks until the East Coast!
5. A lazy morning….and I do mean lllaaaaaaaaazzzzzzzzzyyyyyyyy.
1. Grateful I have eyes to see and hears to hear.
2. Sweet sleep.
3. New adventures that help me see the beauty in my own life.
4. Random happenstances that aren’t so random.
5. The love of friends.
Dear Nikki,
It was only two months ago that you and I sat in the lab chatting and doing our thing. Suddenly you said “Jen, I want you to sing at my funeral.” I remember chuckling and saying “Well sure, but that won’t be any time soon. Right?”
You died on a Monday. On the following Saturday, I sang at your funeral.
I am now realizing that ANY TIME would have been too soon, let alone the short month between that casual conversation and your funeral. But, I did what I said I would do and I almost made it through the entire song without shedding a tear, until I looked at your mom and dad. My heart broke for them. As my voice broke with my heart, I realized that I was sorrowing no longer just for me, but for those who lost their daughter, their sister, their aunt and their fiancée.
The Sunday night before your death, I thought that I should text you and say hello. Text you and tell you how much I love you. Just text you. Who knows why? I talked myself out of it because I knew I would see you on Wednesday. I should have done it. I should have told you what I wanted to say and since I didn’t, I am going to take a few minutes right now. I am hoping you will be watching over my shoulder as I type this–so that you’ll know just how much you mean to me. Truth be told, I have sent you a text message a few times since you left me and foolishly I sit there holding my phone, waiting for a response. But they don’t come. Somehow it makes me feel better knowing that still have your number in my phone. Like you’re not so far away.
A story is told of a man walking along a beach. As he is walking he comes upon starfish along the coastline–thousands and thousands of starfish. Down the beach he sees a young boy throwing the starfish back into the ocean, one at a time. He approaches the boy and asks him what he is doing. The boy says “I am throwing these starfish back into the ocean. I want to save them. I want to help” Hoping to show the young boy his wisdom, the man replies “You’ll never do it. There are too many of them. It doesn’t matter–don’t waste your time.” The young boy stops, poised to throw another starfish into the ocean. He turns and looks at the man as he says “It matters to this one,” and he throws the starfish out to the surf.
Every day I would come to work, do my thing and look forward to 4:00. The time when my Nikki would dance into the lab and giggle. That precise moment is the time that I felt like I was one of the starfish on the coast that was being rescued and cast out to sea…by someone who knew that it did matter.
It’s been almost three weeks of lonely and every day I come here and see the chair you used to work in and think of you.
You made me feel like I was important and lovely and worthwhile. You laughed at my jokes with your contagious laugh and would spontaneously throw your arms around me as you told me that you loved me. Your sense of humor and your compassionate heart made working in a place of illness and sorrow so much easier. You reminded me that silly is good and that when you feel something, you say it! Right then! Don’t wait! Even if it causes embarrassment and giggles! Go for it man! And yes, you cried with me too. When some things seemed just too much to bear.
Since your death, the ties that bound some of us who knew and loved you have been binding, indeed. We have forged better friendships and have leaned on one another through the moments when we internalize that you are gone. Sometimes thoughts of you pass between us like a charge of electricity and, more often than not, they go unspoken except for the knowing glance we share with one another. You have made us stronger, individually–much like the starfish–and as a band of individuals who knew you and loved you and learned from you. You have truly made a difference.
Finally, Nikki, I want you to know that the way you passed doesn’t matter to me. The fact is that you are gone. It has been a blessing for me to be able to contemplate the plan that I believe God has for each of us and to reflect on the comfort and security it affords us. I know you live, still, and not just inside those of us who were your fans and friends, but that your spirit lives on and that one day I will see you again! You will continue to be my friend and I will continue to be blessed because of it.
Love your face, Nikki!
Jen XOXO
The stats helper monkeys at WordPress.com mulled over how this blog did in 2010, and here’s a high level summary of its overall blog health:
The Blog-Health-o-Meter™ reads Wow.
A Boeing 747-400 passenger jet can hold 416 passengers. This blog was viewed about 3,300 times in 2010. That’s about 8 full 747s.
In 2010, there were 61 new posts, not bad for the first year! There were 22 pictures uploaded, taking up a total of 23mb. That’s about 2 pictures per month.
The busiest day of the year was July 31st with 126 views. The most popular post that day was The Ugly Name.
The top referring sites in 2010 were facebook.com, segullah.org, kristengregson.blogspot.com, ourdaisypatch.blogspot.com, and libbyfry.blogspot.com.
Some visitors came searching, mostly for peculiarandco.com, mission shoes, sunglasses with writing on them, segullah retreat poetry, and peculiarandco.
These are the posts and pages that got the most views in 2010.
The Ugly Name July 2010
14 comments
About Mrs. Peculiar… May 2010
3 comments
Women’s Pull August 2010
10 comments
Mission Shoes July 2010
2 comments
A Letter For Hope June 2010
Snazzy! Thanks, everyone, for stopping by in 2010!
1. Christmas break is over. Sanity has been restored! (…and I mean that in an “I love my kids” kind of way.)
2. Finding things in my home to donate to the local thrift shop. I love watching that donation pile grow.
3. Favorite books sitting prettily on my bookshelf.
4. Laughing at campy 80′s movies that I haven’t seen in years. ”Strange Brew” to be exact. Bob and Doug are such hosers.
5. The phrase “deeds of derring-do”. Maybe performing my own deeds of derring-do should be on my daily to-do list. Then it could be called my “Daily Deeds of Derring-Do To-Do” list. Mouthful.
I was going to be all cool and do some “2010 Countdown” and share tidbits of my year with you. Only there’s one problem: I don’t remember much about 2010.
Really. Upon careful consideration, I have decided that I have a terrible memory. I don’t remember much from my childhood, I don’t remember much growing up. I don’t remember much from this year. I DO remember some of the emotional ups and downs, but it’s hard for me to pinpoint if it was an actual event that caused them or just the feelings of everyday life.
As the days run together and mundane tasks are completed, the canvas of my memory is washed by the blah white of them. They seem to swallow up and fade the vivid colors of the “special” events of the year…leaving me with one of those monochromatic pictures that’s supposed to be funny: ”Snowman in Snowstorm”, “1,000,000 Snowflakes Among Marshmallows”, ”White Chocolate in Santa’s Beard”. Not that I really care what my canvas looks like. I do mind, however, not having any real memories that stand out.
So I am going to scrape the bottom of the barrel and re-cap my year with things I DO remember. Ugly or not.
I love the feeling of a new year, fresh with anticipation and wonder. I also love the feeling of the old year, melancholy as it may be. With the coming of a new year comes the expectation of change, hope and improvement. A new canvas to be painted on. A new masterpiece, maybe, or the glimmer of one yet to come.
I think Tennyson summed it up best with his poem, “Ring Out Wild Bells”:
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night–
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.Ring out the old, ring in the new–,
Ring happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,
But ring the fuller minstrel in.Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.Ring out old shapes of foul disease,
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land–
Ring in the Christ that is to be.
A peaceful, happy and warm New Year to you all. Wherever you may be.
