Friday, November 27, 2015

Real Pie Tastes Better Humble Pie

I filmed a wedding in Ogden Tuesday. This is the job I do when I am not doing the job called laundry, thinking of what to make for dinner, and chasing grandkids. 

I like this job. It makes me happy. It makes me think about love and new beginnings and the scary wedding dress I wore. It makes me think about toasters and honeymoons and studio apartments and occasionally gives me butterflies.

For some reason, I was worried I would forget to go to it and how bad would that be? So, I set an alarm on my phone everyday the week prior to the wedding, then 3 hours before, then an hour before, then 20 minutes before. #part-timers #oldage #brainrot.

The night before the wedding I dreamed that it was the next day and my husband and I were hanging around the house, when I looked at the clock and realized that it was noon and I was supposed to be in Ogden at 11:00. Then I dreamed that it was time to go and I found my camera on the front porch, which was really now the back porch (because that's how dreams are) where it had been all night with the sprinkler hitting it. Then I dreamed that I was lining my dead mother up with my high school vice principal whom I have never talked to or thought about and whose name I'm surprised I remember. Analyze that. . .  It was a rough night. I think this all means that I need some kind of therapy.

These are the kinds of dreams that give you heart attacks or make you think about changing your name and moving to another country because there are no do-overs for a wedding videographer. Thinking about it now turns those "wedding butterflies" in my stomach to bats and spiders.

I thought about my daughters wedding almost 2 1/2 years ago. We were going to have an ice cream sundae bar and rented a soft-serve ice cream machine, only, the reception started and the machine wasn't there. We kept calling the ice cream man who said he was going to be there any minute. Only he wasn't. He just kept saying he was coming which doesn't actually put ice cream in people's bellies.

As the reception ended, the ice cream man came with his tail between his legs and no ice cream. Apologizing profusely, he tried to hand me a wad of cash. I was annoyed. Why didn't he get the ingredients the night before, or plan more time into his schedule, or have a back-up contingency plan for emergencies because after all, there are no do-overs for a wedding.

I opened my mouth to tell him how he'd ruined our once-in-a-life-time and instead heard myself saying, "Don't worry about it. It was an awesome day. We've got a happy bride and groom. We're not going to let ice cream ruin it." I pushed the cash away. Teary eyed, he left. Unfortunately, those are not the words I had wanted to say. Fortunately, God takes over when I let Him and helps me say better words than my own.

After a night of dreaming up lame excuses of why I missed a once in a life-time event, I felt like pond scum. What if I'd actually had to give any of those excuses to the wedding party, especially if they had responded with any of the things that I had wanted to say to the ice cream man? What if I had said those mean, hurtful things I wanted to say to the ice cream man? After all, there are no do-overs for weddings. What if I had made it all about the ice cream instead of the bride and the groom and love and eternity and happily ever after?

God is good. I am good when I let Him in my life. He helps me see what's important. He helps me say what's important. This Thanksgiving I am grateful for God who helps me be better and focus on the important things so that I don't have to eat humble pie but can eat lots of real pie. And who doesn't like pie?

Saturday, November 21, 2015

Oh if I Were a Spider, the Web I Would Weave . . .

Fair is a place you take a pig and you win a prize. Or maybe you don't win a prize. Maybe your pig dies before you get to the fair or maybe you get a flat tire on the way to the fair or perhaps you don't even have a pig and you just go to the fair and eat too much cotton candy and see the goat with two heads and the bearded lady and ride too many rides and throw up and and step in gum. Or worse.

I've been thinking a lot about "fair" this past month mostly because of my daughter from another mother, Maci. She can't seem to get her dang pig to the fair. If I was Maci, I think me and my pig would be wallowing in the mud and waiting for more slop which is not the breakfast, lunch or dinner of champions and is not a Maci meal either because she has willpower and has winning habits even if she and her pig are not going to the fair.

Last year was her first year running track and she was fast. Her mom, the other mother who is organized, sums it up well in her FB post from April 19th:

"Proud of my daughter Maci McCleary, Yesterday at the Taylorsville invitational she took 3rd out of 70+ girls in the 200, first in the 4x100, and 16th out of 90+ girls in the 100. She has done great despite her lack of experience and her daily injuries." 

But then she got a stress fracture in her femur that ended her track season.  How did Maci deal with this? She got up the next morning, dressed up, blinged up her crutches, put on a smile and hobbled to school.

In the couple years prior to that, Maci had back surgery, a broken arm, a broken hip, a broken hand a fractured tibia . . . twice,  a blood infection, a bruised neck and a concussion. In other words, a lot of her seasons ended.

After the fractured femur, the doctors figured that she had a weakness in one side of her body and came up with a plan to strengthen the weak side. Maci worked on this plan all summer. She spent hours doing physical therapy and practicing her basketball skills. She trained like a champion, and she ate like a champion, cutting all sugar and "slop" from her diet. She made it through tennis season injury free and had just started playing some preseason basketball when she tore her ACL and MCL.

Her basketball season ended before it even started. She is not going to make it to the fair. Life is not fair. All that hard work, all that time, all that discipline and dedication. . .why???? So not fair.

In the grand scheme of things, does this really matter? People died in terrorists attacks in Paris last week. People are murdered; people lose limbs and abilities; people lose loved ones; nations rise and fall, so why or how does this matter? That's what's been spinning around in my head along with the cobwebs.

I don't know much, but I do know this, I know that it matters. Champions are not made on the court or the track. They are not made in one defining moment--the swish of a ball, the crossing of a finish line. Champions are made from many moments, moments that crowds and newspapers and fans don't see. Moments of getting out of bed early while everyone else is sleeping, moments of practice while everyone else is with friends, moments of hobbling around on crutches with a smile even when you're dying inside. . .

I asked God one day, "Why?" He answered me with this question, "How has knowing Maci changed your life?" and I cried. I cried because I'm a woman with lots of horrormones, but also because knowing Maci makes me want to be a better person. Knowing her makes me want to do hard things, Knowing Maci makes me realize that I might not win, but trying will make me a winner.

So, if I were a spider with mad web spinning skills, I would haul my hairy spider behind over to Maci's and weave words like driven, inspirational, motivational and #OhIamsoblessedtoknowyou! over her house. I would probably use my glow in the dark silk so the whole world could see. And, if I was a spider like Maci, I would definitely add some bling.

The other mother doing Maci's hair, Tess painting her nails after the back surgery.

Maci at men's basketball game. It was a white-out. Love this girl. She doesn't do anything half way. 
Receiving the Riverton Choice Award this month. She would definitely be my choice.
(notice the ribbons and bling on the crutches :) )

I think Mother Theresa and Kent Keith sum up what I'm trying to say and how I feel about Maci. Don't do things because you want to be a champion or a winner, do things because you are a winner.

 People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered.  Forgive them anyway.
            If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives.  Be kind anyway.
            If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies.  Succeed anyway.
           If you are honest and sincere people may deceive you.  Be honest and sincere anyway.
            What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight.  Create anyway.
            If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous.  Be happy anyway.
            The good you do today, will often be forgotten.  Do good anyway.
         Give the best you have, and it will never be enough.  Give your best anyway.
         In the final analysis, it is between you and God.  It was never between you and them anyway.
-this version is credited to Mother Teresa

the Original Version:
The Paradoxical Commandments
by Dr. Kent M. Keith

Wednesday, November 11, 2015

Sour Patch Kids, Stephen Curry, Family, Friends, Prayers, Costco Cards, & Tender Mercies

"Physical restrictions can expand vision. Limited stamina can clarify priorities. Inability to do many things can direct focus to a few things of greatest importance." (Elder David A. Bednar, Chosen To Bear Testimony of My Name, Ensign, November 2015)

We were humbled to see all the people who came to visit Tess. They brought cookies and Sour Patch Kids and hugs and Sour Patch Kids and lunch and dinner and Sour Patch Kids and balloons and stuffed animals and well, you know, Sour Patch Kids. They listened to Tess’ animated babblings about crowd-surfing, college life and Stephen Curry. If you don’t know who Steph Curry is, please don’t tell Tess because she will cry real tears for you because you don’t know how wonderful he is. At least that’s how she was in the hospital. 
Family :)


And more friends with food.

(There are so many more that came that I didn't get pictures of. THANK YOU!!!!)

My daughter, Bri, took vacation days to be with Tess. She cleaned the blood out of her matted hair, and washed her body, and spent entire days just being there in case Tess needed something. As a mom, this is the ultimate payback—to see your children truly love and care for each other, to put their siblings needs above their own.

A cute boy that Tess had started dating about a month before her accident came to visit. He walked in with a stuffed monkey and Tess very excitedly asked where he got it. When he told her Costco, she was a little perplexed because how in the heck do you get into that place unless your mom is with you with her card?  “How did you get into Costco?” she asked.
“I have a Costco card,” he replied.
“You have a Costco card?” Tess gushed. “That makes you SO much more attractive.”

So, this attractive boy with a Costco card sat by her side and didn’t mind that her hair was all matted and bloody because he came before the sister worked her magic. He listened to her talk about Stephen Curry and he understood what she was talking about. He held her hand while she slept and when she would pull the oxygen out of her nose and her monitor would go off, he would very gently stick it back in her nose. He called her at nights and read scriptures to her because reading is a hard thing to do with brain damage. He talked to her about her future, a future that did not include going to school that semester and a future that did include lots of therapy. He was supportive and kind and so much more helpful than Mom or Dad even though Mom and Dad have Costco cards too.

So, here is the part of the story that happened after the hospital:

About a month after her accident, Tess was cleared to participate in any and all activities except crowd-surfing. What was supposed to be months of physical, occupational, and speech therapy, ended up being a few visits. She has no lasting effects from her accident. No headaches. Her filter is working. She doesn’t cry if you don’t know Steph Curry, although she is slightly miffed. In short, her recovery is nothing short of miraculous. She literally floated on the prayers, faith and kindness of so many.

She is back in her apartment, though not attending classes. She just got a job coaching the Freshman girls basketball team at Logan High School. And although they live 4 hours apart, she is still seeing the cute boy with the Costco card. #blessed

Some of the great people that work at University Hospital:

Nurse Laura, they're still tight.

Nurse Jeremy, no sponge bathing for him--just lots of laughing together and consumption of Sour Patch Kids.

Celine from housekeeping. She sang for Tess and told her about the Rwandan Genocide where most of her family died--a very inspirational young woman. They are now FB friends. 

Monday, November 2, 2015


Eighteen years ago I had a baby. They put her in my arms and I cried, not because something was wrong, but because everything was right. I cried because I was old enough and had been pregnant enough to understand all that could have gone wrong. I was humbled that many don’t get to hold one baby, let alone six. I cried because she was perfect and pure and filled with love and light and everything good. I cried because her fingers curled around mine with complete trust. I cried because this tiny girl who had grown next to my heart, now held a piece of it. I held her through the night. Nurses came into my room to take her, and I wouldn’t put her down. I caressed her skin and kissed her tiny head. I felt the delicate puffs of her quivering breath. I was holding 7 lbs. of pure miracle.

At the end of August, I sent that daughter to Utah State. She made it until Labor Day weekend. Then she called us. She was hysterical, laughing one minute, crying the next. Something about a dance, a fall, her head…  Finally, her roommate took the phone. She was crowd-surfing (which is really just a trust exercise with strangers) and had fallen on her head. At first she experienced a temporary paralysis. Her first thought, “Crap, I’m paralyzed. How embarrassing.” After several seconds, she was able to move her arms and legs and jumped up and said, “I’m fine!” Only she wasn’t. The back of her head was bleeding.

Some smart friends loaded her in a car and drove her to the ER. Some other smart friends who are priesthood holders for our church jumped in the backseat and gave her a priesthood blessing. She was blessed that she would feel no pain. Her pain disappeared.

When they got to the ER, the doctor checked her and said she would need staples in her head, but everything else looked good. Immediately, she felt anxiety about having someone use a stapler on her head. (Why this anxiety failed to manifest itself while she was crowd-surfing is a mystery.) Her bishop came and gave her another blessing. He blessed her that her fears would go away and that she would have peace. Her anxiety vanished.

Before sending her home, they decided to do a CT scan. The CT scan showed that she had a brain bleed. When she hit the ground, her brain bounced off the back of her skull and hit the front of her skull and started to bleed. Not good. She needed to be at a hospital with a neurosurgeon. So, in the wee hours of the morning, they transported her from Logan to Salt Lake City.

When she arrived, she looked awful, but was in great spirits.

I found out later that the front part of your brain is where your filter is. Your dominant personality traits come out. People usually think you’re drunk or on something if you injure this part of your brain. Tess is an outgoing, friendly, go-go-go type of girl. So, we were seeing Tess on steroids. She had the ambulance staff and the ER laughing. Since there was so much laughing, I wasn’t too worried. They would look her over and we would be home soon. But we weren’t.

Apparently brain injuries can be funny and serious. The next few days the adrenaline wore off and the headaches came. I thought about what would have happened if the back of her head wasn’t bleeding and she didn’t go to the ER and the doctor wouldn’t have discovered her brain bleed. I thought about the baby I held 18 years ago.  I slid into the hospital bed next to her. I curled my body around her like a protective cocoon.  I listened to her quiet breathing. I felt the rise and fall of her breath against my sheltering arms and I cried for what might have been and I cried tears of gratitude for what was.  I cried because I would get to see this beautiful daughter who was full of light and love and goodness fly.