nurturing hope, creativity, family
Someone set a passa on top of the piano.
So, naturally, she had to get it herself. (?!?)
This is what I saw when I came around the corner:
I’m not sure what concerns me more, the fact that she climbed up there at all, or the fact that she was so comfortable being up there. As if she belongs up there with George Washington.
Deep breath.
Jennifer
Today we honor those who have risked and given their lives in defense of our freedoms. We honor and remember those we love who have gone before us.
In all our fun, in all the barbecues, in all the time outdoors and with friends I hope we pause to remember. We need our history to maintain our identity.
The picture above is from our National Archives. My grandpa is the gunner on that plane (the man closest to the camera). He and the pilot were responsible for rescuing those men whose planes had gone down in the ocean. The men were in the water, and the tide was carrying them toward the Truk Islands, which was occupied by the Japanese. To save them from being captured as prisoners of war, my Grandpa and Burns landed their kingfisher plane in the ocean and taxied around to pick men up, all the while under enemy fire. When they had collected all the men and balanced them on the wings so the plane wouldn’t capsize, they were picked up by the USS Tang, the submarine assigned to this battle.
I love this picture. I love the story inside the story, the story of rescue missions planned and executed within the larger story of the battle plan and attack. I love what it says about how much these men loved those who were fighting with them. I love what it says about the worth of a soul. It is part of my history, my identity. I’m so proud of my Grandpa.
Happy Memorial Day.
Jennifer
For the first time in almost 18 months my Sunday evening post is late.
It was a crazy week with feelings of relief and urgency mingling in every area of life. Some things wound down; others revved up. So many things crossed off the list; so many things yet to finish. The end of a school year is always like this.
There were a few moments here and there which were wonderful. I cooked artichokes to go with our dinner on Thursday night and it turned out to be a wise decision. We were all frazzled and tired, but because artichokes take a lot of time to eat, we lingered at the dinner table, discussing far more than we’ve had time for in recent months. I sat back and observed as big kids taught little kids how to eat artichokes. It was a magical moment, a deep breath in the midst of craziness and I savored it.
Friday night we drove to Denver for Memorial Day weekend. I lay in bed Saturday morning listening as all the children woke up in the same room in their grandparents’ basement. Their conversation together in the early morning light made me laugh and filled me with joy. So much of our time spent together is rushed and another great percentage of it is spent refereeing some disagreement. This was precious. It was unrushed, uncomplicated, unguarded. To hear them simply be together, to hear the sleepy (and hilarious) comments from some of them made me bury my face in my pillow and laugh out loud.
We spent the weekend with my parents who are caring for my 90 year old grandpa (written about here ), who had a serious stroke in April. I’ll never forget some of the precious moments we had. It was a special trip, one I’ll always be glad we took.
And so we’re back in Utah, back in the swing of the last week of school, with some things off our backs and others bearing down on us with great intensity. We had a family home evening lesson two weeks ago on finishing strong, working hard right up until the very end so we can look back with pride in our efforts and performance. I’m trying to set a good example for my kids and keep at it cheerfully, even when at 10:30 p.m. someone informs me of a last minute project due tomorrow.
Just a few more days and we’re done, jumping head first into summer life, which has its own brand of busy.
Life is good.
Jennifer