The best of men

The phone call came early this morning.  And when I heard it ring, I knew.

I knew and I didn't want to answer it.

John's dear father had just passed away only minutes earlier. 

The emotions right now are hard to figure out.  

There is happy.  So happy for him.  He is finally free of the painful body which has kept him captive for the last 8 months.   Happy that he is finally with his parents and his brother.   It's been so many years since he has been with his mother.  The thought of their reunion is overwhelming to my mind.  

Then there is sad.  Sad for us as we are left behind, missing him so much that it physically hurts. Missing his wisdom, his smile, his laugh, his excitement over the car he has been restoring for as long as I can remember.  Missing him wearing his leather jacket that says, "Handyman Club of America, Lifetime Member."  Missing our "Flying Dutchman."  Missing everything about him.

Just missing him.

I just can't quite figure out what to feel.  And my heart is so full that I feel it will explode.   I thought if I typed out these feelings, that somehow it might help me to feel better.   I hope.

When Raegan returned from India in August we took her to see Opa in the care center.  She hadn't seen him since he became sick with that really ridiculously rude cancer.  I am so happy I grabbed my camera as I ran out the door.  The photos we have of them together are priceless.

This morning, when I told little Adam that "Opa died" he got a surprised look on his face, then he lay his head on me and after thinking for a minute said, "Well, it's kinda good because he won't ever die again and he's getting to see Jesus."

Is there anything more true and correct and beautiful than that?  Opa IS getting to see Jesus, and because of Him, our Savior Jesus Christ, Opa will never have to die again!

There isn't a more beautiful thought in the world.

M & M

Matthew and Martha. As in Martha Stewart.

Each month, around this time, there is much excitement and anticipation in our home, for this is about the time when the latest issue of Martha Stewart Living arrives in our mailbox.

Yes, excitement at its finest.

But not for me. Oh, don't get me wrong, I do love Martha...she is talented, creative, inspirational, and I have, no doubt, learned to make a mean cookie or two from her, complete with a "60% cacoa dark-chocolate ganache reduction."

But it's Matthew who most eagerly awaits the arrival of Ms. Stewart's monthly periodical. Yes, Matthew. My SON. Who is a BOY. And 10-YEARS-OLD!

This is an example of what takes place when he sees the newly-arrived magazine laying on the kitchen counter, which, consequently, took place last night...

Matthew: "*Gasp* It came, it came! Yessssss!!"

He then quickly whisks it away to some unknown corner of the house, where he can sit uninterrupted, carefully pouring over each and every page.

At first I was a little concerned over his adoration for such a, you know, "female-ish" magazine. Why couldn't my son be into Boy's Life or Ranger Rick or even Highlights? Those are great boy magazines!

"He'll grow out of it," I told myself, "Don't worry. He'll be fine, it's okay, he'll be fine, he'll be...."

But then, one day, I discovered the real reason for his affection for the mag. Much to my relief, I found that Matthew doesn't really care about learning how to hand mend a worn out knit sweater, nor does he care about the best type of galvanized bucket in which to place his freshly cut home-grown hydrangeas, and he most definitely couldn't care less about Martha's monthly calendar where he can learn what day she is polishing her silver, winterizing her entryway, and having her Bedford fireplace cleaned before the first fire of the season.

But this IS what he cares about. THIS is what he is frantically searching for when he hides away with the book:


The monthly advertisement for Fresh Step Cat Litter, where, each month, a different cat is featured; one who desperately needs to use the, um, potty. One who is always holding its crotch paws just anterior to its pubic symphysis and inferior pubic ramus.*

That's what my 10-year-old boy is looking for. And when he finally finds it, you hear a whoop and a holler coming from the depths of the basement.

And then he eagerly awaits the arrival of next month's issue of Martha Stewart Living.



*Raegan, being in the thick of her university anatomy class, was mortified of my use of the word "crotch" and, therefore, insisted I use the correct terminology.

Elder J.R.H. Oh, and me.

I think this makes up for my unfortunate missed photo-op with Donny.



Yup.

Me and Elder Holland.

In a photo booth.

Together.

Just me and him.  Oh, and the other General Authority who snapped the photo (although I don't remember his name.....you must understand I was experiencing a tad morsel of shell-shock because (HELLO!) I was standing right next to one of my ALL-TIME FAVORITE APOSTLES!).

I know, I look a little giddy in this photo.....it could be that the guy taking the photo (see above) had just told me and Elder Holland that we couldn't hold hands.

HA!

* A HUGE thank you to my amazingly-fabulous-photographer-friend Leah for asking me to be her "2nd photographer" for this wedding/reception.   It was So. Much. Flippin'. Fun.

Doin' laundry

Clunk....

Clunk....

Clunk....

is the sound my clothes dryer makes when something is in there that isn't supposed to be in there.

Thus was the sound I heard today.

Let's see, what could it be this time?

Oh!  I see something, poking out from under the clothes!  But I can't quite make out what it is.....

Oh, thaaat's what it is!   It's John's Brand. New. Cell phone!   Washed AND dried!

Whew, that's a relief.  I'm so glad it wasn't something, ya know, important.

It's officially over.

Summer, that is.

And this was my first clue...

And this...


And this...

My yard.  Three days ago.

Summer.

Gone. Finished. Kaput.

Terminated and executed by the cruel, cold snow.


For some reason, right now, I feel like writing an "Ode to Summer" (kind of like that John W. Schaum piano piece Sister Maggie Gammel made me play in Sacrament Meeting when I was twelve, "Ode to Joy." And even though playing that piece in Sacrament Meeting didn't bring me much joy, this particular past summer season did, so therefore I think an ode is perfectly fitting).

Oh, Summer 2010,
You were so good to us.
You gave a serious helping of joy to a child obsessed with Thomas the Tank Engine,
And you let John soar in a little (and nautiously bumpy) airplane high above our home.
(And for once, he found joy in the provided air-sickness bags.)
You let it pour rain on us during our one day at Lagoon, knowing that a day for us at Lagoon (or Disneyland, or Legoland) just would not be complete without us getting completely drenched.
But, as kind as you were, you gave us 3 hours of dryness before the heavens let loose.
For this, we thank you.
And speaking of wet, thanks to you, we stood under the falls at Niagara. UNDER the falls. What a thrill!
And this time we were more than happy to be drenched.
Wet with Niagara Falls water?
Yes, we were more than okay with that.
You let us pretend we were Nephites (and Almas and Harvest Dancers and Harlots) on a stage on the side of the beautiful Hill Cumorah.
And while there, we got to hang out with our adorable niece (while she continues to serve her mission).
That was truly the bomb.
Palmyra.
The highlight of our summer.
Joy, for sure.
Of course, the highlight for Raegan was a little different.
Working as a Medical Coordinator in the Leprosy colonies in India, I think, would be her top choice.
Yes. Definitely.
Then there was the annual 24th of July celebration at the cabin in the glorious mountains of Utah.
Complete with our yearly hike.
Gorgeous.
Wouldn't be summer without that.
Oh, and Oma's potato salad.
You brought us the birthday swim party where 7 children just had So. Much. Fun. finding out who could scream the loudest (all at once) inside our echo-y pool room.
While mom sat and listened.
Which, you would think, would make her so happy to see the joy that brought those little ones.
Just really, really happy.
But it really didn't bring her as much joy as you would think. 
Thank you for the sound of the ice cream truck music that sends the kids scrambling for mom's wallet. ("You paid HOW much for that .10¢ popcicle?!")
Then there was Matthew and cousin Thomas deciding that baseball was their "new thing."
Thank you, Summer 2010, for allowing Matthew to actually hit the ball.
Once.
It made him feel like he was King of the World.
(I borrowed that line from my all-time favorite movie, btw.)
Oh, summer!
Joy at its finest!
The fishing trip to Alaska which rewarded us with 200 pounds (and a 6-year-supply) of King Salmon.
(And of course the new freezer we had to buy in which to keep the 200 pounds/6-year-supply of salmon.)
Then there were our visits to Opa (John's dad) at the care center while realizing that life is too short.
Too fragile.
Too unpredictable.
But then you gave us rainbows which remind us of a Power much higher than us. One who is in charge, Who has a plan.
One who loves us.
The true definition of pure joy.
And finally, stunning summer sunsets; the ones you can only find in Utah.
(And maybe India).

*Under Niagara Falls

(*No photoshop here! This is exactly how the sky looked. Srsly.)

Thank you, joyous summer of 2010, for three memorable months.

And welcome winter.  I'll try to love you, too.

But no promises.

a gift of love

As I was climbing into bed last night, I found this thoughtful little gift on my nightstand....



Homemade Lavendar Bath Salt, lovingly made by my adorable and sweet 15-year-old daughter Haylie. Attached was a note of admiration and love, on which she had beautifully written....

Dear Mother,

I thought I could give these bath salts to you, and maybe you will use them (although you never take baths!). I love you so much.

(Awwwww, I know what you are thinking..."Maryanne has raised the sweetest and most perfect child On. This. Earth!")

(Or maybe you are thinking..."Maryanne never takes baths?? Eww!")

(But wait! Hold your thoughts! It goes on!)

Thou art like a cherry blossom, newly blooming and fluttering in the Spring breeze, hither to a white-stained gazebo.

Love, Haylie


I have no idea what you are thinking now, because I have no idea what to think myself.

Other than...."What was this child smoking last night?!" (At Young Women's nonetheless!)

donny: my story

Several years ago, when we were living in Nebraska, I read in the Lincoln newspaper that Donny Osmond would be performing a special run of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat in Salt Lake City. (Honestly, I have no idea why anyone thought people in Lincoln, Nebraska even cared that Donny Osmond was performing 3 states away.)
Anyhoo, I turned to John and said, "I'm going to Utah for this, you can come if you want but I am going." Being the supportive guy he is, he begrudgingly agreed to accompany me.

So, we flew out to Utah to see Donny. As Joseph. In a loincloth.

He was awesome and amazing and glorious and all that good stuff.

(FYI, the rumor is true. I couldn't sleep that night after the show. I had just seen:
Donny Osmond.
Live.
In. A. Loincloth.
People, do you understand me here?!)

Fast forward 12 years to July 2010. The place is the Hill Cumorah in Palmyra, New York and our family is there because we are in the pageant. As were were getting ready for the show one night, I kept over-hearing people saying "Donny Osmond this, and Donny Osmond that." I finally asked someone why everyone was talking about Donny. The answer was, "Oh! You don't know?! He's here. Tonight. In the audience."

*Instant meltdown*

Donny Osmond was here, in my presence. He was going to watch me (ME!) dance the "Wicked Jerusalem Harlot Dance" on a stage.

Oh sweet tender mercy.

Every night after our performance we would have a devotional that started at 11:05 p.m. (I know, :05? It's true.) I got thinking about the situation and I just had this gut feeling that Donny would come talk to us at our devotional. Of course he would....why would he NOT? He was in this pageant once. He used to be one of us. So I ran to the Study Shelter (a covered pavilion on the side of the Hill Cumorah where our devotionals were held) and I threw my backpack on the seats front and center.

Boy, am I smart.

Donny came to the devotional. And his wife and his youngest son. And he stood right in front of me (ME!). He talked to us for about 15 minutes. He was charming and handsome (although a leeetle bit into himself, but oh well!). He made eye contact with me (ME!) several times! I think I took 108 pictures* of him. I wonder how he felt having my big ol' camera right in his face clicking away while he spoke.

(Actually, I think he liked it.)

He finished speaking and the closing prayer was said. The very micro-second that the word "amen" was uttered, the entire cast and crew of over 600 people swarmed Donny, like a pack of ravenous wolves going in for the kill. I thought, "I don't care, I'll wait here all night if I have to, just to get my picture with him."

There I stood, watching him, thinking of all the glorious things that Donny and I were going to talk about; we would talk about how great he was on Dancing with the Stars (even though I never actually watched him on DWTS, I could tell him that I heard he was really good!). He would in turn tell me how great I danced on that Hill Cumorah stage and how my shimmies, undulations, and come-hithers were nothing less than the best shimmies, undulations, and come-hithers he had ever seen.

Oh yes, it would be a glorious conversation.

Me and Donny.

My thoughts were suddenly broken by the sound of my husband's voice, "Come on, let's go! Now's the perfect time to get out of the parking lot while everyone else is in here!"
Suddenly, my dreams of meeting Donny Osmond dropped like a half-ton chunk of lead and shattered violently on the concrete floor.

I replied, "But...but...I just want my picture with him."

John looked at me for a few seconds then said, "Well....you can have your picture taken with me."

How was I supposed to argue with that?

So we left. Right then and there. And I am okay with that. I am okay that I passed on the a chance-in-a-lifetime to meet THE Donny Osmond. My one and only chance. Ever. I left.
I left while everyone else in the pageant stayed and mingled with Donny, took pictures with him, laughed with him, and probably partied all night and had the time of their lives with him! I really am okay that I didn't get to do all that. Because, you know, we were able to drive right out of that parking lot without having to wait behind one. single. car.
And that's got to be worth....something.

I. AM. OKAY.

I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm..........




There was a kid on the front row who had no idea who Donny was. Had never heard of him. Here Donny is telling the young man to leave the room.


With his son and wife, Debbie, singing "The Song of Cumorah."


The hungry wolves.

* The statement that I took 108 photos of Donny Osmond is a slight exaggeration, used for dramatic purposes only. I didn't actually take 108 photos, it was less.

Or more.

dad's old glasses

Ever since I had a garage sale 2 weeks ago, I have been on a quest to purge and de-junk every. single. inch. of. my. house. Cleaning and organizing is a weird thing for me. It's like a drug. A good drug. I get this weird euphoria whenever I organize something. I imagine the feeling being something like druggies get when they smoke meth. Or whatever it is they do with meth.

(Meth probably isn't smoked, is it?)

(Oh wait! I just googled it...meth is indeed smoked!)

Anyhoo.

Last week, when I was purging my closet, I found John's old glasses. I think he wore these when we were dating/first married. Well, unbeknownst to me, the kids apparently got a hold of the glasses AND my camera, a discovery I made today when I got my camera out to take some pics. This is what I found on the card. . .










And Adam surely couldn't be left out of the fun. . .

me and shawn

Me with the super-duper nice Shawn Bradley.
All 7' 6" of him.

All I can say is . . . Holy Tallness!

My daughter is a . . .

SCHOOL TEACHER!!!



We spent all day on Friday setting up Brooke's 3rd grade classroom. It has a jungle theme and is A.DOR.A.BLE!

This girl was born to be a teacher. We saw it in her when she was 18-months-old. And now finally, 20 years later, here she is, ready to be a great influence in many children's lives.

Her classroom is ready, her lesson plans are in place, and school starts tomorrow!


And for some reason, I'm feeling . . . old.

Next - rehearsals!

So . . . . we were cast into our parts on Friday night. Early Saturday morning, we started rehearsals which we did almost non-stop for the next week. It was hot. No, it was scorching. It was humid. Waaaay humid. We were outside ALL DAY LONG, every single day. It was tiring. Very, VERY tiring. My legs were killing me from all the lunges and, yes, undulations. By the end of each day were we were sticky, stinky, in pain, and ready to slip into a coma. We didn't get back to our hotel each night until mid-night and we were lucky to be in bed by 1 a.m. Then it was back at the hill by 8:15 a.m. to start it All. Over. Again.

But we loved it. Absolutely loved it. Every minute of it. It's difficult to describe, but despite the extreme conditions, we were on Cloud 9. I couldn't quite figure it out, until one day I was thinking about how hard this all was but at the same time we were all so happy. Then it hit me. When we are in the service of our Heavenly Father, we are sustained. More so than ever. We can endure hard things. This was indeed hard. But it was okay. WE were okay. In fact, we were more than okay. We couldn't think of anywhere else we'd rather be and we dreaded it it coming to an end.

Amazing, but true.

Our rehearsals were held both on the stage and out in "the bowl" which was the grassy area in front of the stage. At this point, the audience chairs weren't out yet, but soon there would be 9000 green chairs filling the bowl!

Front view of the stage, which is set on the side of the Hill Cumorah. Several rehearsals are going on here. (Extra brownie points to anyone who can pick out John. He's there, I promise!)

And here is the view looking into the bowl from the stage.

John with his script in early rehearsals for his scene as Alma. "King Noah" is sitting in his pretentious throne.

A few days later . . . this is where Alma pleads with King Noah to spare Abinadi's life. King Noah responds to Alma by saying, "I see I have a poisonous snake among my priests! You are no longer one of my priests! Away with you!" He then he knocks off John's hat and then the fun really begins for John as he leaps down the stairs and runs all over the stage while being pursued by the other priests, crashing through crowds of people.

John loved it. I swear they wrote this part with him in mind.



This is Jason. He portrayed Christ in the pageant. There were 2 young men who played Christ - one was the "Vision Savior" (Matthew) who appeared in Nephi's vision, and the other was the "Descention Savior" (Jason) who came to the Americas after His resurrection. Even though Matthew and Jason don't really look anything alike, once they were in costume I couldn't tell who was who. They were each amazing in their portrayal of the Savior.




A very moving part of the pageant. The Savior has just descended and is walking amongst the Nephites. He is touching the hands of the children, holding them, healing a sick child. It was a very emotional scene. Here a child touches Him on the cheek.



Jason (portraying Christ) walking among the Nephite children.



Right before Jason portrays Christ ascending back to the Father, he comes to this place on the stage where a few of us "New World Women" and a handful of children gather around his feet. Jason will come and stand on that black plate while we kneel around him. (Brooke is in the striped shirt.)



At this point, Jason (when in costume he is dressed in brilliant white with a wig and a beard) holds out his arms and says, "And now I go unto the Father." The "lift" then raised him up as we raised our arms towards him. I got a little too close to Jason a couple of times and he whacked me in the head as he lifted his arms out. (If you ever read this Jason, I AM SORRY! That was totally my fault! However, I am sure that no one in the audience noticed.) The lights then went out and in the pitch black we had about 5 seconds to get all of us AND the children completely off the stage. That was intense and I think we got caught on stage every. single. performance.
(Adam is in the orange shirt.)



The stage is made out of very hard, VERY SHARP fiberglass. To kneel on this is like kneeling on about 50 razorblades standing on end. You just don't do it. So, to make it a little less, um, painful, they have layed down red rubber matting. We always marveled at the beautiful patterns it left on our knees. Perfect little hexagons!
For the performances, I actually wore knee pads which gave me a whole new lease on life.



Our "New World" group - Matthew (who portrayed the Vision Savior), Andie, me (behind the camera), and those adorable children! During the descention scene, we sat on these stairs while Jason made his way down to our stage. Then we would run and gather around his feet.




The Nephite dancers in rehearsal. The girls had on part of their costumes at this point so they could get used to dancing in the skirts. These kids amazed me! It takes a lot of energy (and youth!) to be a Nephite dancer.



Haylie rehearsing the Harvest Dance in "the bowl."
See the white spray paint on the grass? They had painted an exact footprint of the stage on the grass for rehearsals, since we couldn't all fit on the stage at the same time. It was called "Cyber Stage." :)



Night time rehearsals. We had to get used to doing this all in the dark so some of our rehearsals were late at night.
John's scene as Alma. The man who is really white at the top (with the spotlight on him) is King Noah. John is to the left of him in the "mushroom" hat. John had to wear the hat in rehearsals so that King Noah could practice knocking it off John's head.
This picture was taken right before "the accident." When King Noah went to knock John's hat off, he missed the hat and jabbed John right in the eye! Dang.



Abinadi, with his hands in chains, preaching to Alma.


We rehearsed only 4 days before we performed in front of an audience. FOUR DAYS! It was a miracle that we could pull it off. And pull it off we did! There most surely was divine help. That was the only way it was possible to put together such an enormous production in such a short amount of time.