Memories

Last night we had Family Home Evening.  For those of you unfamiliar with the term, it is a night--usually Monday--that our church leaders encourage us to set aside once a week to spend time together as a family, getting closer to one another and learning more about the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  That is the goal, and sometimes we accomplish it.  Sometimes we attempt to accomplish it, but the squabbling and couch jumping get in the way.  But B and I are convinced that we'll be blessed for trying, so we do.

Sometimes our Family Home Evenings (which I'll refer to hereafter as "FHE") are better planned and prepared than others.  Some of our best lessons have been given by the children.  Seriously, you should have been there a few weeks ago for the lesson E taught about family history and journal keeping.  She's good--so good that she's already preparing her powerpoint presentation for next week's lesson.  But I digress.  Last night's lesson wasn't so well planned, maybe because I was attending parent teacher conferences for three children while B was doing the ballet carpool and feeding everyone dinner.  Way to go B!

I came home from parent teacher conferences to find everyone clustered around the computer.  And to hear the sweet sound of L cooing.  B had pulled up a bunch of video files that he hasn't burned onto disk yet, and he and the kids were watching them.  I joined them, and we spent the next two hours just watching ourselves and L.

It was bittersweet.  We all loved seeing L again.  I think E and I took turns getting teary-eyed as we watched.  (I'd post some video here for you to see, but I haven't figured out how to post video on my blog yet....and it is just as well, because I'm not sure I really want to share moments that now seem so private and special.)  The kids were fascinated by how much they themselves have grown and changed in the past two years.  E realized how much speech therapy had helped:  "I couldn't say S's!".  J could see that he'd become much taller and less pouty.  S was startled to hear her four-year-old self sound "like a baby."  We were touched to see how obvious L's love was for each of us.  Our memories haven't played tricks with us on that.

I was taken aback by the video record of how hard I worked to have L with us at home and to give her and all of us some sort of normalcy.  Sometimes, I tend to look back at that time of my life with a lot of self-criticisms.  I should have done this, or that, or made sure that this happened, etc., etc.  Last night I was able to watch myself on video with love and charity.  I was doing the best I could, under the circumstances.  I'm so proud of myself for trying.

There was one video, taken on J's seventh birthday.  It was in between a long string of winter hospitalizations for L.  It was mid-January, and all of our Christmas decorations were still up.  The house looked pretty disorganized.  The birthday cake was obviously from a bakery.  We only had five birthday candles.  I was carrying L in my arms, and a portable oxygen tank over my shoulder, which was attached to L.  Judging by how close I was standing to the flaming birthday cake with a tank of oxygen, I'm pretty sure we'd just been released from the hospital that day, and home health hadn't arrived yet to explain home oxygen use to me, yet.  (It is extremely combustible.)  There are dark circles under my eyes and my hair looks really bad.  E's clothes are mismatched and S's hair looks as if it hasn't seen a brush in days.  From behind the camera, B is complementing the girls on how well they wrapped the gifts, and I'm viewing some of the birthday gifts with clear displeasure--obviously, I hadn't been involved in the purchases.  E, J, and S are clearly starved for attention, judging by the number of times they jump up and down in front of the camera and turn somersaults over my feet.  L looks like she is struggling to breathe.

It almost gave me an anxiety attack watching.  That was my life.  Somehow I lived through that.

One of the last videos I watched was filmed with me behind the camera.  B likes to have us fade in to each new date, and as the scene fades in, you hear me saying, "It is about four o'clock in the morning."  I'm pointing the camera at L, who is lying on the spare bed in her room, happily playing with a small stuffed giraffe.  It is about a week before L died, and I'm filming something that was typical for L and I: a night with very little sleep.  In the video, I explain that L often tries to let her siblings have my attention during the day while they are awake, but she likes to have fun with me while they are asleep.  The camera follows L playing with the giraffe and batting at other toys.  She is clearly enjoying herself.

"Are you wide awake?" I playfully ask L.  She responds with a happy grin and an outstretched hand.

"Is Mommy tired?"  I ask L.  She looks at the camera and blinks a yes, then smiles widely.

"You are right, Mommy is tired,"  I agree.  "So, do you think we should turn off the lights and go to sleep?"


L emphatically shakes her head back and forth, "No."  I laugh.  "You are so smart.  You know exactly what you want, and you are so good at telling Mommy."  I laugh again as she grins at me.  "I love to play with you, too."  I tell her.


I watched that video.  And I watched it again.  That was my life.  That was why I lived through the portable oxygen tank and the slapped together birthdays and the messy house and the long hospitalizations and the anxiety attacks.  For beautiful moments like that.

That was my life.  It was amazing.

Suddenly, I realized that FHE should have ended long ago.  It was 9:30 P.M., way past bedtime.  It was time for everyone to brush their teeth and say prayers and get into bed, and someone remembered she had a permission slip for me to sign.....and I looked around at the chaos of bedtime and felt so grateful.  Families are forever.  I have these three wonderful children and a husband to take care of right now, and they need me so much.  And I have L, who doesn't need me so much right now, but she's still part of our family and always will be, because we are a forever family.  And I'm looking forward to the day when I get to hold her in my arms again and she's well and whole and we can do things without a tank of oxygen strapped on my shoulder.   


This is my life, as it is and as it will be.  It is amazing.

See?  Blessings do come from having Family Home Evening.

It has come to my attention that I have neglected to post any pictures of child J.  Somehow, this blog seems to be monopolized by pictures of his sisters.  This was unintentional, as J is a very fine looking son, even when he needs a haircut.  These are two of my favorites, taken a couple of years ago.

One of my favorite things about J is his hair.  It is real, and it is spectacular.  I only wish I could get this color for myself from a bottle.  It is nice and thick, and it would curl if we let it grow long enough.  Lucky, lucky boy.

J has a great personality.  He is lots of fun, with a great sense of humor and a love of people.  A lot like me, I would like to think.  He is also very much like me in other ways: easy going, easily distracted, absent-minded, and a procrastinator.  This is a challenge for me.  It is hard enough for me to keep myself on task, let alone someone else!  I've been struggling with how to make the negative sides of our two personalities equal a positive when it comes to getting chores, homework, and other tasks done.  I'm constantly looking for patience, and frequently I can't find it when I need it.  But J is a trooper.  He keeps on trying. 

If J were to win a contest, it would be for Best Brother Ever.  I mean it!  He may be the only one they've got, but J makes sure he's the only one his sisters will ever need.  He is very kind and willing to try to see their side of things.  He is also very adaptable.  J can go from playing football outside with the neighbor boys to agreeably joining the girls for a tea party.  J would never be caught dead in anything that seems remotely feminine, but he has a great selection of Jedi robes and other manly costumes for joining in the dress-up fun that the girls always seem to have.  Some of my happiest memories of L include J, because he was never far from her and always tried to help her be happy and comfortable.  Like this:

If you look really closely at this picture, you'll see that J is being very careful with L.  This was back in the days when L had an NG feeding tube.  (A tube that went in through her nose to deliver food to her tummy.)  He is snuggling her to sleep on one of our beds, making sure she has her beloved binky.  Told you he'd win.  This is proof.

J has lots of interests.  He does very well in school.  He also is proving to be quite the athlete.  What J lacks in size, he makes up for in commitment.  Once J understands what his role is on a team--no matter what the sport--he gives it his all.  Baseball, basketball, and soccer are his current favorite sports.  Here is J playing goalie in a recent soccer game.

 

Nothing got past him that day.  Nothing.

J has inherited his father's love for the outdoors, running, and scouting.  His first 5K race is coming up this weekend.  Ever since J was a toddler, he has been going to the scout activities that B was involved in.  (No matter where we live, B invariably ends up helping with Boy Scouts or Cub Scouts.  Yep, I married an Eagle Scout.)  J has been asking when he could be a scout since he was old enough to talk.  So you can bet who was first in line at the recruiting table when the Cub Scouts came to school.

Anybody want to buy some famously delicious Scout Popcorn?

Voila!  There you have it--enough pictures of child J to even up the score a little bit.  And seriously, we do have three more containers of popcorn to sell.