Sentencing
15 years ago
Monday, March 2, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Happy Birthday, Carly!
She's 15 now and keeps trying to get everyone to let her drive their cars! We went shopping on her birthday and her friends made her wear this sign and tiara around school all day. Then they threw her a surprise party on friday. What fun friends! :)
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Thank you Gearld Wright Elementary and West Valley Elementary
Some of the teachers my mom taught with from West Valley Elementary and Gearld Wright Elementary (Yes, that's how it's spelled!) got together and made us a quilt. Several people made squares that represented what our mom meant to them.
Thank you!! This means so much to us!
Thank you!! This means so much to us!
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Molly's thoughts about death and the afterlife, part five...
On February 27, 2001, Molly wrote a reaction paper for a speaker who had talked about hospice care for the terminally ill. In this paper, Molly tells us how she would have preferred her own death to be. She states:
"What a comfort to know that something like Hospice is available when one most needs to feel at ease. We all would like to be able to have a choice in the way we die. Hospice tries to make that as much a reality as possible. If I had a choice, I would like to be at home surrounded by family with the least amount of pain as possible and still be coherent enough to enjoy my surroundings at home with my family. It's nice to know there is an organization available that will try to make this wish a strong possibility."
The circumstances of Molly's death prevented her from having the choice she speaks about above. Even so, it seems that a greater regret for Molly would be an element of what she outlines in the following:
"I think it would be easier to die knowing you lived your life with the five things she [the speaker] described: not so much who loved you but who and how you loved, forgiving others and helping them to forgive you, showing others how much you appreciated them by thanking them and reminding them what they gave to you has meaning in your life, and saying good-bye. A lot of distress comes over the fact of not getting to say good-bye one last time. This does indeed help one to not just die better, but to live better as well. Living well helps one to die well. I think it brings more peace to one's heart and soul and less regrets."
I feel very strongly that Molly would have wanted to say good-bye one last time to those who she was close to. Some, of course, are people she knew for years. Some had been instrumental in her life at different points. Others may be people she knew only a short time. I think her heartfelt goodbye to all would have been framed within a sincere sense of how important each person is and her prayer that they find in this life those things that are most valuable and important.
"What a comfort to know that something like Hospice is available when one most needs to feel at ease. We all would like to be able to have a choice in the way we die. Hospice tries to make that as much a reality as possible. If I had a choice, I would like to be at home surrounded by family with the least amount of pain as possible and still be coherent enough to enjoy my surroundings at home with my family. It's nice to know there is an organization available that will try to make this wish a strong possibility."
The circumstances of Molly's death prevented her from having the choice she speaks about above. Even so, it seems that a greater regret for Molly would be an element of what she outlines in the following:
"I think it would be easier to die knowing you lived your life with the five things she [the speaker] described: not so much who loved you but who and how you loved, forgiving others and helping them to forgive you, showing others how much you appreciated them by thanking them and reminding them what they gave to you has meaning in your life, and saying good-bye. A lot of distress comes over the fact of not getting to say good-bye one last time. This does indeed help one to not just die better, but to live better as well. Living well helps one to die well. I think it brings more peace to one's heart and soul and less regrets."
I feel very strongly that Molly would have wanted to say good-bye one last time to those who she was close to. Some, of course, are people she knew for years. Some had been instrumental in her life at different points. Others may be people she knew only a short time. I think her heartfelt goodbye to all would have been framed within a sincere sense of how important each person is and her prayer that they find in this life those things that are most valuable and important.
Monday, February 2, 2009
The First Grandbaby...
...will be here in late August/early September!
Congratulations to Jaron and Lauren!
Sunday, February 1, 2009
I remember...
I remember listening to the radio and talking to my mom about how cute Jon Bon Jovi is.
When we would go on road trips, my mom would turn up the radio really loud and sing along, but she wouldn't sing the melody, she would sing the harmony and it drove us crazy. We would yell at her and say, "Mom, sing WITH the music or don't sing at all!"
My mom liked to put her feet on everybody. We'd tell her to knock it off and she would just do it more.
She would fall asleep on the couch in front of the window and open the blinds so the sun could warm her up. Then she'd grab one of the cats to cuddle with. We had only one cat that liked this. All the others were forced to cuddle against their will. "That's what kitties are for," she'd tell us when we complained to her to leave the cats alone.
When I was little, she would make me go to school in these ridiculous outfits that I hated. I remember I would fight and cry and she would just tell me, "Don't you dare change your clothes. You look cute, now stop it!"
When my mom and I were Christmas shopping one year, we got stopped at the mall by one of those guys at a kiosk selling rice bags that you heat up in the microwave to keep you warm. We asked him what was in it and he told us rice and tea. We looked at eachother and went, "We can make that ourselves." That's what we handed out to the neighbors and family for Christmas in 2006.
She really liked the movie Meet the Parents. She thought it was hilarious.
My mom would make us help her with yard work. She'd spend a whole saturday morning pulling weeds and edging the lawn and leave all the clippings all over the sidewalk and tell us to clean it up. We'd tell her, "You're the one that made the mess. You clean it up." That logic works for toys and spills but not yardwork.
We have peach trees in our back yard and my mom canned peaches for about 3 years in a row. I think up until last year we were finding jars of peaches in our basement that said "92" and "94" on them. They tasted just as good as they did 16 years ago!
I remember waiting for my mom to finish the "Beat The New Year" race with my dad and brothers and sisters in the blue station wagon. We'd go to the finish line at midnight and look for her. She always left with a T-shirt and a plaque that said, "I beat 1992!" or which ever year it was. I think she has four or five of them.
In junior high, I got big enough to fit into her clothes...and she could fit into mine. It was all free game from then on.
She told me she got kicked out of Disneyland one year for throwing a rotten apple off the skyride and hitting Cinderella in the head with it.
She had this horrible perfume that she loved called Emeraude. When she put it on it would make the whole house smell.
Her favorite flavor for anything was peach.
She would put fake flowers in the bushes in front of our house to "give them some color."
Her favorite drink was to take a glass of water, squeeze as many lemon slices as could fit into it and then add salt. I don't know how she even got the idea for it.
She really liked the chips and salsa from Chili's.
When we would go on road trips, my mom would turn up the radio really loud and sing along, but she wouldn't sing the melody, she would sing the harmony and it drove us crazy. We would yell at her and say, "Mom, sing WITH the music or don't sing at all!"
My mom liked to put her feet on everybody. We'd tell her to knock it off and she would just do it more.
She would fall asleep on the couch in front of the window and open the blinds so the sun could warm her up. Then she'd grab one of the cats to cuddle with. We had only one cat that liked this. All the others were forced to cuddle against their will. "That's what kitties are for," she'd tell us when we complained to her to leave the cats alone.
When I was little, she would make me go to school in these ridiculous outfits that I hated. I remember I would fight and cry and she would just tell me, "Don't you dare change your clothes. You look cute, now stop it!"
When my mom and I were Christmas shopping one year, we got stopped at the mall by one of those guys at a kiosk selling rice bags that you heat up in the microwave to keep you warm. We asked him what was in it and he told us rice and tea. We looked at eachother and went, "We can make that ourselves." That's what we handed out to the neighbors and family for Christmas in 2006.
She really liked the movie Meet the Parents. She thought it was hilarious.
My mom would make us help her with yard work. She'd spend a whole saturday morning pulling weeds and edging the lawn and leave all the clippings all over the sidewalk and tell us to clean it up. We'd tell her, "You're the one that made the mess. You clean it up." That logic works for toys and spills but not yardwork.
We have peach trees in our back yard and my mom canned peaches for about 3 years in a row. I think up until last year we were finding jars of peaches in our basement that said "92" and "94" on them. They tasted just as good as they did 16 years ago!
I remember waiting for my mom to finish the "Beat The New Year" race with my dad and brothers and sisters in the blue station wagon. We'd go to the finish line at midnight and look for her. She always left with a T-shirt and a plaque that said, "I beat 1992!" or which ever year it was. I think she has four or five of them.
In junior high, I got big enough to fit into her clothes...and she could fit into mine. It was all free game from then on.
She told me she got kicked out of Disneyland one year for throwing a rotten apple off the skyride and hitting Cinderella in the head with it.
She had this horrible perfume that she loved called Emeraude. When she put it on it would make the whole house smell.
Her favorite flavor for anything was peach.
She would put fake flowers in the bushes in front of our house to "give them some color."
Her favorite drink was to take a glass of water, squeeze as many lemon slices as could fit into it and then add salt. I don't know how she even got the idea for it.
She really liked the chips and salsa from Chili's.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Friday, January 16, 2009
Molly's thoughts about death and the afterlife, part four...
Molly visited the Pleasant Green Cemetery on February 10, 2001. This is what she noted about the cemetery:
"This cemetery I visited on Saturday afternoon, Feb. 10th, located about as far west as you can go on the Oquirrah Mountains and Kennecot provided an interesting and unique experience. I was told that the nature of civilization can be judged by how the people regard their dead. It is not like the regular cemeteries found within the city with many ordinances and specifications. This cemetery is as distinctive as each individual buried there."On one headstone at this cemetery she found a quote by Helen Keller. She chose to begin her paper about the cemetery visit with this quote:
"The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched-they must be felt with the heart."She also spoke with a man who was visiting one of the graves. The man's 42-year old son had recently been killed in a traffic accident and the man would come to the grave two or three times each week. Molly wrote:
"As he talked about his son, he expressed a hope that life just had to go on after death. He told of how his son's baby daughter would look off into the corner of the ceiling and 'goo' at someone, even though no one was visibly there. He believed it to be his son visiting. He also told of how his cats would look wide-eyed at something in his son's room with expressed interest, again while no one else seemed to be there. I hoped that it was with comfort that he was able to express his feelings and thoughts about his son with me."Within the uniqueness of this particular cemetery, Molly notices Helen Keller's fascinating quote and lives it in her interaction with this man. Part of Molly's uniqueness was precisely in her desire to communicate with people in this way.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Grandma's Hands (One of the Many Email Forwards My Mom Sent Me)
My mom was a big email forwarder. I've been cleaning up my inbox and found this that she sent to me in April of 2007. I've been sitting here for 10 minutes, reading it and trying not to cry because I'm at work.
Grandma, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. Shedidn't move, just sat with her head down staring at her hands. When I sat down beside her she didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if she was OK.
Finally, not really wanting to disturb her but wanting to check on her at the same time, I asked her if she was OK. She raised her head and looked at me and smiled. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking," she said in a clear voice strong.
"I didn't mean to disturb you, grandma, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK," I explained to her.
"Have you ever looked at your hands," she asked. "I mean really looked at your hands?"
I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point she was making.
Grandma smiled and related this story:
"Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served You well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled and weak, have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life.
"They braced and caught my fall, when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor. They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They held my husband and wiped my tears when he went off to war.
"They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band, they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special. They wrote my letters to him and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse.
"They have held my children and grandchildren, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand.
"They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body. They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day, when not much of anything else of me works real well, these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer.
"These hands are the mark of where I've been, and the ruggedness of life. But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home. And with my hands, He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ."
I will never look at my hands the same again, but I will remember, God reached out and took my grandma's hands and led her home.
I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel His hands upon my face.
-Author Unknown
Grandma, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. Shedidn't move, just sat with her head down staring at her hands. When I sat down beside her she didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if she was OK.
Finally, not really wanting to disturb her but wanting to check on her at the same time, I asked her if she was OK. She raised her head and looked at me and smiled. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking," she said in a clear voice strong.
"I didn't mean to disturb you, grandma, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK," I explained to her.
"Have you ever looked at your hands," she asked. "I mean really looked at your hands?"
I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point she was making.
Grandma smiled and related this story:
"Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served You well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled and weak, have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life.
"They braced and caught my fall, when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor. They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They held my husband and wiped my tears when he went off to war.
"They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band, they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special. They wrote my letters to him and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse.
"They have held my children and grandchildren, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand.
"They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body. They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day, when not much of anything else of me works real well, these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer.
"These hands are the mark of where I've been, and the ruggedness of life. But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home. And with my hands, He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ."
I will never look at my hands the same again, but I will remember, God reached out and took my grandma's hands and led her home.
I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel His hands upon my face.
-Author Unknown
Friday, January 2, 2009
But, To The Man of Faith...
How bitter must be the suffering and grief of those who see nothing beyond the grave except the beginning of eternal night and oblivion. For them that thus believe, death has its sting and the grave its victory. To them, even the glory of this earth is but the last flickering of a candle in unending blackness.
But, to the man of faith, death is but the taking up again of the life he broke off when he came to this earth.
-Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Heber J. Grant
I am eternally grateful to my mother for raising me with the teachings of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Because of this I know that families can be together forever. I know that following commandments yields blessings and not following commandments yields you being on your own. (Simple, yet so hard to get sometimes.)
Heavenly Father tells us what we should and shouldn't do to take care of our bodies. Doctors on this earth sometimes tell us things are okay that Heavenly Father says are not. I'm going to go with the guy who created my body and knows how it works.
This life is for us to experience and make choices. We may suffer the consequences of others' choices, and we will be judged on how we react and handle what we've been given. Do not let your heart be overwhelmed by sorrow, anger or hurt, because it is so easy in this situation. Believe me. (Maybe this is a personal post-it for myself.)
Heavenly Father does not want us to be unhappy and He has given us this gospel so we can be as happy as possible. (Once again, He made the earth and made us and knows how it's all supposed to work...gave us a user's manual and everything.) He gave us our agency so we can make choices and be held responsible. I believe that, like any parent, He is ecstatic when we make right choices and feels bad when we make wrong ones. We are supposed to learn from our experiences on this earth, including learning to better ourselves, and then leave and continue the life we had before we came here. That's the whole point.
But, to the man of faith, death is but the taking up again of the life he broke off when he came to this earth.
-Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Heber J. Grant
I am eternally grateful to my mother for raising me with the teachings of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Because of this I know that families can be together forever. I know that following commandments yields blessings and not following commandments yields you being on your own. (Simple, yet so hard to get sometimes.)
Heavenly Father tells us what we should and shouldn't do to take care of our bodies. Doctors on this earth sometimes tell us things are okay that Heavenly Father says are not. I'm going to go with the guy who created my body and knows how it works.
This life is for us to experience and make choices. We may suffer the consequences of others' choices, and we will be judged on how we react and handle what we've been given. Do not let your heart be overwhelmed by sorrow, anger or hurt, because it is so easy in this situation. Believe me. (Maybe this is a personal post-it for myself.)
Heavenly Father does not want us to be unhappy and He has given us this gospel so we can be as happy as possible. (Once again, He made the earth and made us and knows how it's all supposed to work...gave us a user's manual and everything.) He gave us our agency so we can make choices and be held responsible. I believe that, like any parent, He is ecstatic when we make right choices and feels bad when we make wrong ones. We are supposed to learn from our experiences on this earth, including learning to better ourselves, and then leave and continue the life we had before we came here. That's the whole point.
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