Roots

One fall day, years ago, a friend stopped by my house in North Carolina with bags and bags of healthy, green monkey grass.  She had too much in her yard, I had too little in mine, so we were both happy with the exchange. I thanked her, removed the plants from the bags, and tossed them into the corner of my yard with the intention of planting them soon.

But fall turned to winter and they were buried underneath layers of leaves and an occasional skiff of snow. Winter turned to spring, spring turned to summer, and still that heap of monkey grass sat underneath those leaves.  Each time I glanced their way, regret pinged in my heart for never making the time to plant them. And so, when the weather started to cool again after a long North Carolina summer, I pulled the rake and shovel from the shed (because it was high past time to add this experience to my ever growing list of Lessons I Learned From Procrastinating), to throw the whole pile into the yard waste container.

But as I dug the shovel deep into the pile, instead of finding the heap dead, dry, and shriveled up, I found that it was thriving.  The plants had rooted themselves into the hard, clay soil - some were sideways, some were upside down, but all were absolutely alive.  And slightly traumatized when I had to uproot them again to place them in their new homes. 

I. Am. Monkey grass.

When we moved to Miami, I decided that I wasn't going to invest the time and energy into making new friends because it was such a temporary spot.  My heart felt just awful after leaving my North Carolina home, and I was sure I didn't want to go through that painful separation again.  But then all these people showed up in my life and, even though the surrounding conditions were poor, my soul started to root.

And my kids started to root.

By the end of our year in Miami, we had so much to say goodbye to.  Our last two weeks were filled with friends - friends that were just starting to reach that sweet-spot of comfortability and trust - and it was slightly traumatizing when we had to uproot ourselves again to come to our new home. 

Why am I thinking about this today?  I guess it's because... it's nice to have something to look forward to as I sit in this life spot of not actually having any roots.  Don't get me wrong... I like it here, and I think the people are nice and friendly, but... seven weeks.  Hardly enough time to feel rooted, you know?  So, I just want to take a minute to remember what it feels like, and to let myself feel excited for when it will someday feel that way again.  So, let me reflect on those Miami roots I left behind.


*Rooted in our home.

It was a place to live.  A place to create memories and to dream.  A place to teach our children and to watch the choices they made.  A place to laugh and to cry, to work and - best of all - to play.  It was a place to contemplate and to plan.  To ponder on the beauties of life and to be soothed by the ocean breeze and the sound of breaking waves. It was a place to learn and to love and to grow.  It was small, it was echo-y, it was expensive.  It was a reality that grew from a dream.  It was worth it.  It was ours, and it was home.

*Rooted in the intensive family time we had together.

Root Beer floats in an empty apartment after a long day of packing.

Never again will we have the chance to circle the wagons like we did in Miami.  Of course, family time will always be a priority, but the bonds that formed while we spent a year so together - away from many of the responsibilities and pressures of normal life - are a cherished and invaluable token that will remain tucked in our hearts.  How lucky we were to be able to have that year before the kids decide that friends are more fun than family. 

*Rooted in church

Our last Sunday

So many hearts in this branch... the sister missionaries that worked so hard.  Jackie who had so much love and acceptance.  Farah who never let that smile fade from her face, even though her life had hardships that rival anyone I know.  And Marjorie who never let the language barrier between us stop us from conversing and loving each other. 

*Rooted in work

The cornea crew (and, I totally posted this picture instead of the one of all of us looking normally at the camera because somehow the jiggle in my arms coordinated with the light in the sky to make me look super toned (I am not)).  Brian learned an incredible amount of stuff over the year.  Both about cornea, and about what he wants his life to be like (or not to be like).  I was so proud of him for putting in all the hours necessary - and for somehow striking a balance between his work and home life when the two seemed to be incompatible.  It's a gift of his... really it is.

The cornea department took us out in the ocean on our last Saturday, and we spent the day kayaking, paddle boarding, jet skiing, eating, and swimming. It was fun for me to get to know some of the people that Brian had spent his year with... and it was such a great way to relax. 

*And then, of course, (last but not least): Rooted in friends

The 'other' Alders threw us a goodbye party the week before we left. These people are some of the greatest examples.  And I hate to think of what I would have missed out on if I hadn't connected with them.  Brazilian, Russian, Canadian, and American... these ladies taught me lessons on diversity that I never could have gained without them.  

Watching my kids connect with other kids was wonderful, too.  We had the Marriotts over one last time for a dinner/pool/beach party.

My kids fell into comfort with these kids so quickly.  Sweet, polished, beautiful kids.  They were remarkable examples to my own kids.  And their mother was a great example to me.

While we were busy scrubbing walls and tile floors after the movers moved everything out of our apartment, the Almeda's invited us over for a BBQ and to go kayaking in their backyard.  We said yes because... an Argentinian BBQ beats scrubbing walls any day.  Also, backyard kayaking.



Apparently an Argentinian BBQ is slightly different than an American BBQ in that in an Argentinian BBQ, there is only meat.  We had hamburgers, and hot dogs, and steak, and shrimp. And no vegetables.  Or buns. It was awesome.

And then, after scrubbing an empty apartment all day, we invited a few families over to watch the fireworks off of our balcony.  They brought camping chairs and pillows to sit on (because... empty apartment), and we ordered pizza.

Puerto Rican, Canadian, Brazilian, Haitian, Argentinian, American... I miss these people.

It was an especially fun night... and the perfect way to end our year in Miami.  The next morning, we filled our van and drove away.

But at least we left our mark.

Here's to creating new memories.  New friends.  New roots.

July Harvest

The alarm rings at the same time every morning. But then my feet seem to hit the floor a little later... and later...... and later......... and later....................... than the day before.  My walls are covered with calendars and sticky notes and chore charts and menu plans, but then the laundry isn't folded, the children are eating ordered pizza for dinner, and I keep checking to see if I'm wearing pants because it sure feels like I'm forgetting something.

Since when did moving cross-country feel like being sucked into a whirlpool?  There are a hundred and twelve balls being tossed in my direction and I've been instructed to catch them, juggle with them, and remember all their names. But there's a whirlpool, I want to say to my child's teacher who is throwing another ball my way. And it's sucking me in, I want to say to my children who seem to think that they need to eat three times, every day.  So I might die, I want to say to my husband who is convinced that clean underwear is important. 

But I'm choosing to ignore all of that right now, and catch you up on my July Harvest.  (I know your calendar says September... but don't worry about it.)

1 - Good Friends - My friend (in the striped swimming suit) threw us a goodbye party before we left Miami.  I miss her, I miss them, good friends make life beautiful.

2 - I know this guy already made it up on the blog somewhere... but he is just so beautiful that he deserves to be up in this post as well.
3 - I'm sailing!  I'm sailing!  I sail!  I'm a sailor!  I sail!
4 - Chattanooga, Tennessee.  (Wow... there are a lot of double letters in those two words.) Rock City just about made my whole life.  Loved the beauty there.
5 - Beautiful Flowers
6 - Meet me in St. Louis
7 - Atlanta, Georgia at my cousin's house. Something about a rocking chair on a southern porch, plus all those shadow-lines... beautiful! My cousin's husband thought I was crazy for crouching down to take pictures of his rocking chairs at odd angles.  'Um,' he said, 'I think we just got those at Home Depot or something.'
8 - Ten thousand years in the Cave of Wonders oughta chill. him. out!
9 - Hanging fern.  Pretty how the light sifts through the leaves, right?
10 - Back at my cousin's house in Atlanta. She maybe thought I was crazy as I took a picture of her front door.  I think I made a good impression on them...

11 - Laramie, Wyoming.  This picture is beautiful on so many levels... first of all, love the stormy clouds in the background, and the highlights on the kids (my phone did a decent job considering all the different levels of light!). Second of all, it was a perfect night after a very emotional day.  Driving through Wyoming is a little depressing when you're moving from a beautiful place like Miami.  But these kids had just as much fun in this park than they ever did in Miami and reminded me that we can choose to be happy anywhere.

12 - Who said that weeds can't be pretty?
13 - Road to the clouds.
14 - My handsome husband. Gosh I love him.
15 - San Francisco.  Can you guess at which pier we were?  (Hint: it was 39)
16 - Seagulls near Alcatraz, waiting for food to be thrown (or dropped...they weren't picky).
17 - I don't even know what this thing is, but it's so... symmetrical.  Beautiful.
18 - Beautiful breads at Mama's for breakfast in SF. 
19 - Foggy Day - amazing.
20 - Incredible supports on that giant bridge.

21 - Pit stop across the country.  You all know how I feel about temples. :)

22 - 24th of July Fireworks
23 - A beautiful baby in a beautiful setting
24 - This. Kid.  He is gorgeous.
25 - Happy Timothy.  That smile is my favorite.
26 - My little niece Mia.  No description necessary.
27 - TK meeting his great-grandpa Alder
28 - Apparently I thought Miles was beautiful this month.  Sorry other children... I really do think you are beautiful, too.
29 - Weathered Flag
30 - Delicious AND beautiful.

31 - The aquarium in Salt Lake City.  There is a giant part of me that is pleased I won't have to worry about sharks anymore.  I hear they're quite rare in the desert.

Sunday

Church today left me feeling tender.  We are starting to develop tiny relationships with people in the ward but, being just two weeks old, the relationships are rather two dimensional and we are quite far from knowing the backgrounds and histories and personal stories that take all these names and faces and develop them into three dimensional friends. 

So when our relief society lesson happened to be about temples today and not one, but two women were asked to share their testimonies about the recent tragic deaths of loved ones in their lives, I felt slightly out of place.  I watched the rest of the women in the room fighting their emotions (some successfully, but most of them unsuccessfully) when the first woman, an older woman, stood up to talk.  But I didn't know her story.  And I didn't feel the emotion. 

There was something nice, however, about being able to feel the sweet spirit of her testimony without being tainted by the powerful emotion of sorrow (not that the two can't go hand in hand, because they can).  But it was obvious to me that I was missing a giant piece of the puzzle.

After she sat down, a wonderful new friend slid over into the empty seat beside me and whispered into my ear that the woman had lost her son two months ago, and that he had left behind a young family.  My heart tugged as I remembered sitting next to Brian's hospital bed, fearing for my own young family.

As the next young sister stood to bear her testimony my new friend whispered that this sister had lost her husband last Christmastime from a brain tumor and had left her behind with two young children.  From the diagnosis to the end was only nine weeks.  You can imagine the emotion in the room as she talked about what the sealing powers of the temple meant to her.

Halfway through her testimony, as the lump in my throat swelled so large I feared it might actually do some damage, I thought to myself I can't do this.  Memories of Brian's heart attack swirled through my head and found their way to mingle with memories of Jess and, for a brief moment, I just wanted to escape.  I don't know these people and their stories, I thought to myself.  They don't know me and mine.  I didn't want to cry there in that room, even though everyone else was, because I knew that they were all crying for her, and I would have selfishly been crying for me.  Plus, it just didn't seem right for me to cry about me when my husband was next door and hers wasn't. 

But then I looked closer at the picture this young widow had taken to the front and placed against the small pulpit in front of her.  It was a beautiful picture taken of her and what must have been her two children, maybe four and two.  She and the kids were all dressed beautifully and posed comfortably on the lawn in front of the temple, the spires of the building rising up behind them towards the heavens.  They were smiling in the photograph, all three of them, and one of the children held a framed picture of their dad.  To the right, there was a handmade sign propped up against the mother's knee that read 'Families can be together forever'.  It was a happy picture... not one meant to make you want to cry... and it touched me deeply.

It's okay, I thought.  Here this strong woman is, standing up in front of all of us, telling us through her tears that it's okay.  

The temple makes it okay.

And I sent a prayer of gratitude right then and there for the knowledge I have of this gospel.  For these sisters who were so willing to share their hearts with me, a stranger.  For my Savior who brings peace and love to even the most broken heart. 

And for the power and sacredness of the temple.

*All these pictures were taken at the Ft. Lauderdale Temple Open House last

April before it was dedicated.  We were able to take all four of our kids through.

It was such a beautiful experience for all of us.

Take off your flip-flops and stay awhile.

One.  Two.  Threefourfivesixseven.  Eight.  Nine.  Teneleven.  Twelve.  Thirteen.  Thirteen sets of visitors in twelve months.  Thousands of dollars in food, hundreds of hours of soul filling conversations, thousands of miles put on the van, hundreds of gallons of gas, one ripped set of guest sheets, over 50 late nights visiting, ten trips through the everglades, hundreds of crocodiles and alligators spotted (two touched - Dave (and, thankfully, zero injuries - Dave)), one trip to Disney World, one drive to Key West, and amazingly, only one popped air mattress.

Guest #1 - Brian's brother, Dave.  

(This man deserves some sort of medal.  You should have seen the work he had to do in order to help us move into our 11th floor apartment.)

One of the great things about blogging is that with all of these memories recorded, we will someday be able to look back and see through this window stories of the way things were.

Guest #2 - Brian's sister, Heidi.

One of the not-so-great things about blogging is that it's nearly impossible to record the stories in their entirety and so, much is left out and much is forgotten.

I didn't write about all the visitors that came to visit throughout the year - not because I wanted them to be among the left out and forgotten, but because, frankly, it was quite overwhelming to keep up.  I had so much else to say and so little time to spend here saying it (it's that whole four-kids-at-home-all-the-time thing) that I knew if I devoted time to blogging about each visitor that that would be all I had time for.  And I knew I didn't want that, either.

 Guests #3 - My parents

But now, as I scan through the pictures of our year on the beach, I find myself lingering longest in the hundreds and hundreds I have of you. They're not the most beautiful, by far, in terms of composition and lighting and other technicalities, but they are the most beautiful, by far, in terms of the warm memories they bring back to the surface.

And it would be terribly sad and rather misleading to not spend some time stamping the memory of 'visitors' into this moment in time. 

Because it was such a big part of our year. 

Guest #4 - My sister, Michelle.

I mean, without Michelle, the above picture would have never happened.  Because I certainly was not brave enough to try gator nuggets without her.  PS - don't try gator nuggets.

I took a look at myself after our very last set of visitors caught their plane back home.  I smiled because the bags underneath my eyes were so puffy that it almost looked like I was wearing a cartoon mask. 

Guest #5 - My brother, Brian

(Sorry, Brian... I didn't mean for your picture to fall right after I said the words 'cartoon mask', because now everyone is thinking the words 'cartoon mask' as they stare at your face.  You don't look like you're wearing a cartoon mask... pinky promise.) 

I deserved those bags under my eyes.  I worked hard for them.  I earned them.  And oh, how I loved them. 

 Guest #6 - Heidi (again) and her boyfriend-at-the-time-turned-husband, Adam

I didn't love the way they made me look, let's be clear.  But I loved the way they made me feel.  

Those bags forced me to recognize my bone reaching tiredness, for sure; but what I found inside was that it was ultimately a happy and satisfying tiredness. 

Guest #7 - Brian's brother, Dave (again (this time he didn't have to move any furniture))

I guess it's the sort of tiredness that comes from living life.  From having fun.  From connecting with others.  From loving and serving and doing.  

Which, when I looked at it that way, made sense of my longing for more.  Please come! I said to those who expressed interest.  I tried not to be pushy, but in my own head I shouted Please come! at them for days afterwards.  

 

Guests #8 - The Birdnos

And while I ended the year exhausted, I started the year hoping we would be able to share our life and our home with our families and friends. Our year was more than we could have dreamed for - and I wanted to share the beauty with everyone I could. 

And they came.

Guests #9 - Brian's brave parents (they did the whole Disney thing with us this year)

You came!  

You came even though you knew we didn't have beds for you.  And we didn't have an extra bathroom for you.  In fact, we didn't have much square footage to offer you at all!  You didn't mind that we couldn't fit a kitchen table.  Anywhere.  And happily ate your meals with us on our couches and floors. 

(confusion buster: the kitchen table in the above pictures is in our rented room at Disney.  Funny that the only pictures of a kitchen table in this entire post come right after I mention the fact that we did not, in fact, have a kitchen table in our house.)

Guests #10 - My wonderful parents (again)

You brought out fun sides in my kids.   

You helped us explore new places.

 Guests #11 - The Larsons

And, best of all, you kept the beauty and the majesty of life alive in all of us. 

That last sentiment is true for not only those that were able to come and be guests within our walls (because I know there were more of you who wanted to come but couldn't), but also for those of you who shared our year through this blog, too.  With each fresh pair of eyes we saw the beauty all over again.  On my tenth visit to the everglades, for example, I saw just as much beauty as I did the first time... because someone was seeing it for the first time.

Guest #12 - My dear friend, Cindy

After staring at the same ocean and the same slice of beach from our windows day after day, we found new beauty and wonder from your comments and through your eyes.  Every time you'd gasp from the beauty, I'd see it again.  Oh yeah, this is incredible.  And since that happened so often, you helped me milk out the most enjoyment and the most fulfillment possible.  

So thanks for coming, guys.

Guests #13 - My sister, Michelle, and her boyfriend, Jake

And thanks, beach, for being a place that people wanted to visit.  You all made the year awesome.  (cue song and dance. Everything is awesome!  Everything is cool when you're part of a team! Everything is aweSOME!... You're welcome for that.)

Now.  How about a visit to Vegas? *wink*