I have never been good at puzzles! They require stillness, patience, and other skills that I do not claim as mine. Having said that, I have been in the mood to put puzzles together lately. I guess that it's just another one of the surprising changes and rearranges that are happening as I'm moving through life.
One of my favorite memories is of a dear Great Aunt. I met her when I was 5 years old. She had been widowed in her 30's. She was pregnant at the time. Counting her new babe she was left with 6 children to raise alone. Somehow she managed to raise strong, remarkable human beings.
On my first visit she gave me a beautifully hand pieced quilt for my doll. I still treasure that intricate little quilt. I probably will frame it and put it on my wall at some point.
Aunt Leone put together puzzles. She had puzzled lots and lots of puzzles. After she finished, she could not bear to pull the puzzle apart and put it away to put together again at a later time. So she would modge podge the puzzle, and frame it, and up on her wall it would go. At the wise age of 5 I did not understand why she would do that. I mean, it's fun to do the same puzzle over and over, right?
Now I understand. At this age...when the past seems more comfortable than the present or future, when time becomes more precious, I too have a hard time putting a puzzle together only to take it apart when I'm finished.
Life has many puzzles for us to solve. There is the puzzle, "Do I get a college education? What college would I attend? What major do I wish to pursue? Will I date? What type of person do I wish to marry? Where would we choose to live? Will I have children...on and on endless decisions puzzle our minds as we move through life.
When my husband attended Law School, and I worked as Executive Secretary of Finance, at the liberal arts college attached to my husbands law school, and we had two beautiful small daughters, I frequently would comment how happy I would be when he finished his schooling. I wanted to quit my job and just focus on him, raising our girls, and THEN I would be happy.
My sweetie stated one day, "If you wait to be happy at some mysterious point in the future, you're going to miss the happiness that you could have, RIGHT NOW!" He was right. Even in the hectic time of him getting his J.D degree, and me working fulltime, and raising our beautiful kiddos, there was much happiness to be had.
We made wonderful friends that I stay connected with all these years later. Nyle grew intellectually. I grew in job skills. Our girls grew as they watched their parents achieve worthwhile goals. It WAS a time of great happiness.
Sometimes however, it was easy to forget to choose that happiness. Did you notice the key word in that statement...CHOOSE? Most of the time in life happiness is a conscious choice that we can make. We CAN be happy IN SPITE of any struggles that we face.
Our family motto is "Happy not Crappy." That refers to this idea. We can choose to be happy even in negative life situations. Hard is not necessarily BAD. Often in hard times there are kernels of joy to be discovered.
Life can be easily compared to a giant puzzle. Each step of the way is like putting pieces together in that puzzle. I believe that when we have finished this life, when we've done the best that we could do, we'll be thrilled to look at the overall picture of the puzzle. Even the hard times, the struggles will lend texture and shading to that marvelous picture.
Some of the lessons that I have been reminded of as I have been puzzling are:
1. If a piece doesn't fit one way, try it the other three. I have been pleasantly surprised how many times just looking at the piece from a different perspective will help me find the position where it goes in the puzzle.
2. If you find yourself frustrated and not finding the pieces you need, quit working on that part for awhile. Find a simpler part to tackle until you've calmed again and are ready to tackle that trickier part.
3. When you start putting together the pieces you can't see the whole picture of how it will fit.
4. Each piece is separate. A piece of cardstock/cardboard cut out that will fit in some mysterious part of the puzzle.
5. Each piece is attractive alone, but MORE attractive and stronger when they have been connected.
6. When you see the entire finished puzzle you can look at it and think, "Oh, that's why that piece fits there, and this other piece fits there. It all makes sense.
7. There is a framework that goes around the edge of the puzzle. This frame anchors every other piece of the puzzle as you put it together.
8. There is not a single only way to approach puzzling. Some folks like to choose the exterior pieces and put them together first. Some prefer to put them together matching colors and working out towards the exterior. Some group the pieces by color. Each way can result in a completed, lovely puzzle.
There are so many opportunities for newness in this life. Every morning can be new! Every week, month, and year offers a chance to change and grow. For some of us, every decade can bring growth. In the creation of your puzzle be aware that we CAN overcome the past. We CAN choose to leave behind mistakes, and foolishness. We can improve and grow.
Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass....it's about learning to dance in the rain!
Tuesday, December 29, 2015
Wednesday, December 16, 2015
That First Christmas - After We Married
Nyle and I had been married for four and a half months on that first Christmas. Somehow I think that I expected that we would spend that very first one with my family. We had never discussed this idea...again I assumed. I mean, after all, his family were spread out quite a bit across the country.
Nyle had spent almost three Christmases by himself before we met, fell in love, and married. Those holidays that he spent alone were very sad days for him. One Christmas he was recovering from emergency colon surgery. The next one he was recovering from major knee surgery. His family were all living away from where he lived.
When I finally voiced my expectation about being with my family just a few days before Christmas he told me that now WE were a family. He wanted us to start, right away, to begin our own family Christmas Traditions. I don't know how many actual traditions we started that Christmas. We did, however, begin our own family. It was incredibly joyous for both of us when we discovered a few weeks before Christmas that our very first child was preparing to join us.
I bought an ornament, that 30 years later looks a bit grimy, that says "Our First Christmas." It still brings back the same tingles that I felt just looking at my handsome hubby during that wonderful time. I'm certain that we must have done some fun Christmasey things. All that I remember is feeling that I was the most blessed woman alive to marry Nyle Smith! (It goes without saying that he was extremely blessed to marry ME! Hey, I was quite a catch)!
Nyle was absolutely the best gift giver ever. He gave wonderful, thoughtful gifts. One of our last Christmases before he passed away, he gave me several sets of fleece sheets. I did not even know they existed. Flannel sheets yes...fleece sheets, NO! Those sheets were magical. In the icy cold winters of Utah, it was like climbing into a hug! I still treasure those sheets, more so now that he is not here to give me a hug.
He taught me the importance of giving gifts of caring. It was terribly hard for me to find the perfect gift for him. It was ironic, actually that he gave such thoughtful gifts, and I struggled to figure out what he would enjoy. To make things worse, we rarely had much money to spend, and he always had excellent, expensive taste. (That is not to say that I had poor, cheap taste...not then or now. I mean, come on, I married him proving my excellence in taste)! There was the telescope that he just desperately wanted...that I spent three years paying for! Or the time I put a bunch of nice pens as one of his stocking stuffers, and then he teased me about it for years, "Pens, really? That was the best you could come up with?" He never let me forget those pens...ok that's an exaggeration. He let me forget after 25 years or so!
Nyle DID appreciate the gifts that I really spent time on. For example, I knitted him a six foot long, four foot wide Colonial American flag. He loved that gift. On the other hand, he felt odd using a flag to nap under. Flying proudly in the hot summer sun one year, I discovered that he had hung it from our patio. Nobody could miss that mark to our patriotism. I did wonder if they were confused by the fact that it only had thirteen stars on it. Again, I had knit a COLONIAL flag...not the current flag with fifty stars.
The best gift that Nyle gave me, is our two darling daughters. Their presence in my life keeps him alive. He was an amazing Daddy. His wicked sense of humor continues in our daughters. I am a rather intense individual, and can be VERY emotional. They have learned to simply say, "Don't go deep Mom, don't go deep." That is in reference to my intensity of emotion. He used to keep me from taking myself too seriously. Now they do.
These dear daughters insist on helping me with my disability issues. Nyle taught them that sense of love and honor by his example with his own Mother. His Mama was brilliant. She raised five sons, largely by herself. Her husband became an alcoholic during their married life. She tried to hold together their marriage, their family, for years. Finally divorce was the only possible option. Mom had not worked in around 25 years outside of their home.
She was able to gain an entry level job as a secretary/receptionist. The pay was negligible...around $380.00 a month. That was not much even in the 1970's. Within two years she had worked her way into the position of Detective, Consumer Fraud in her state. She was the FIRST female detective in her field in the state. She received many awards, and lots of accolades for her ability to look like a sweet, naive Grandma. The business owners were always shocked when she would come back and shut them DOWN.
Tragically the last five years of Mom's life she developed dementia. It was painful to watch this brilliant, wickedly witty, loving woman, lose herself. Nyle and Mom were the best of friends. He traveled once or twice a month across several states to take her to the doctor, and to the hairdresser. After years of discovering dishonest, or downright evil businesses, and then shutting them down, in her delusions she would not trust anyone unless Nyle was there. Sometimes she didn't trust people, even then.
She called many times and poured out terrible accusations directed at Nyle. It broke his heart. Yet, in spite of the false ideations she sometimes had about him, he still gave as much, and as loving, of care as he could possibly provide. I know that his example of love, honor, and duty towards his Mother made a firm impression on our girls.
You might ask, "How did these ideas about your adult girls, and Nyle and his Mom have anything to do with your first Christmas together?" My answer is, "Very little. Hey, how much sleep have you been able to get this holiday week? Me too." So forgive my tangent. It may be off topic, but interesting don't you think? Back to the subject.
Nyle made me promise that I would never send out a basic, newsy, Christmas letter. He always wrote very funny ones. He wanted me to continue the tradition. He actually made me vow (although I did NOT put my hand on any book, Bible or otherwise), I do NOT have his sense of humor. To give you an example of my sense of humor. Remember when you're sitting in a darkened movie theater watching a movie and some odd lady laughs really hard when everyone else is completely silent? Yes, sirree, that's me! Since I can't write zany letters, I will probably not write Christmas letters. However, when you get my New Year's letters, who knows what format they will take?
I wish to you all Happy Holidays, whether you rejoice with Channukah, celebrate Kwanza, sing Merry Christmas or find some other holiday to make you joyful. When you're with those you love, EVERYDAY is a celebration!
Nyle had spent almost three Christmases by himself before we met, fell in love, and married. Those holidays that he spent alone were very sad days for him. One Christmas he was recovering from emergency colon surgery. The next one he was recovering from major knee surgery. His family were all living away from where he lived.
When I finally voiced my expectation about being with my family just a few days before Christmas he told me that now WE were a family. He wanted us to start, right away, to begin our own family Christmas Traditions. I don't know how many actual traditions we started that Christmas. We did, however, begin our own family. It was incredibly joyous for both of us when we discovered a few weeks before Christmas that our very first child was preparing to join us.
I bought an ornament, that 30 years later looks a bit grimy, that says "Our First Christmas." It still brings back the same tingles that I felt just looking at my handsome hubby during that wonderful time. I'm certain that we must have done some fun Christmasey things. All that I remember is feeling that I was the most blessed woman alive to marry Nyle Smith! (It goes without saying that he was extremely blessed to marry ME! Hey, I was quite a catch)!
Nyle was absolutely the best gift giver ever. He gave wonderful, thoughtful gifts. One of our last Christmases before he passed away, he gave me several sets of fleece sheets. I did not even know they existed. Flannel sheets yes...fleece sheets, NO! Those sheets were magical. In the icy cold winters of Utah, it was like climbing into a hug! I still treasure those sheets, more so now that he is not here to give me a hug.
He taught me the importance of giving gifts of caring. It was terribly hard for me to find the perfect gift for him. It was ironic, actually that he gave such thoughtful gifts, and I struggled to figure out what he would enjoy. To make things worse, we rarely had much money to spend, and he always had excellent, expensive taste. (That is not to say that I had poor, cheap taste...not then or now. I mean, come on, I married him proving my excellence in taste)! There was the telescope that he just desperately wanted...that I spent three years paying for! Or the time I put a bunch of nice pens as one of his stocking stuffers, and then he teased me about it for years, "Pens, really? That was the best you could come up with?" He never let me forget those pens...ok that's an exaggeration. He let me forget after 25 years or so!
Nyle DID appreciate the gifts that I really spent time on. For example, I knitted him a six foot long, four foot wide Colonial American flag. He loved that gift. On the other hand, he felt odd using a flag to nap under. Flying proudly in the hot summer sun one year, I discovered that he had hung it from our patio. Nobody could miss that mark to our patriotism. I did wonder if they were confused by the fact that it only had thirteen stars on it. Again, I had knit a COLONIAL flag...not the current flag with fifty stars.
The best gift that Nyle gave me, is our two darling daughters. Their presence in my life keeps him alive. He was an amazing Daddy. His wicked sense of humor continues in our daughters. I am a rather intense individual, and can be VERY emotional. They have learned to simply say, "Don't go deep Mom, don't go deep." That is in reference to my intensity of emotion. He used to keep me from taking myself too seriously. Now they do.
These dear daughters insist on helping me with my disability issues. Nyle taught them that sense of love and honor by his example with his own Mother. His Mama was brilliant. She raised five sons, largely by herself. Her husband became an alcoholic during their married life. She tried to hold together their marriage, their family, for years. Finally divorce was the only possible option. Mom had not worked in around 25 years outside of their home.
She was able to gain an entry level job as a secretary/receptionist. The pay was negligible...around $380.00 a month. That was not much even in the 1970's. Within two years she had worked her way into the position of Detective, Consumer Fraud in her state. She was the FIRST female detective in her field in the state. She received many awards, and lots of accolades for her ability to look like a sweet, naive Grandma. The business owners were always shocked when she would come back and shut them DOWN.
Tragically the last five years of Mom's life she developed dementia. It was painful to watch this brilliant, wickedly witty, loving woman, lose herself. Nyle and Mom were the best of friends. He traveled once or twice a month across several states to take her to the doctor, and to the hairdresser. After years of discovering dishonest, or downright evil businesses, and then shutting them down, in her delusions she would not trust anyone unless Nyle was there. Sometimes she didn't trust people, even then.
She called many times and poured out terrible accusations directed at Nyle. It broke his heart. Yet, in spite of the false ideations she sometimes had about him, he still gave as much, and as loving, of care as he could possibly provide. I know that his example of love, honor, and duty towards his Mother made a firm impression on our girls.
You might ask, "How did these ideas about your adult girls, and Nyle and his Mom have anything to do with your first Christmas together?" My answer is, "Very little. Hey, how much sleep have you been able to get this holiday week? Me too." So forgive my tangent. It may be off topic, but interesting don't you think? Back to the subject.
Nyle made me promise that I would never send out a basic, newsy, Christmas letter. He always wrote very funny ones. He wanted me to continue the tradition. He actually made me vow (although I did NOT put my hand on any book, Bible or otherwise), I do NOT have his sense of humor. To give you an example of my sense of humor. Remember when you're sitting in a darkened movie theater watching a movie and some odd lady laughs really hard when everyone else is completely silent? Yes, sirree, that's me! Since I can't write zany letters, I will probably not write Christmas letters. However, when you get my New Year's letters, who knows what format they will take?
I wish to you all Happy Holidays, whether you rejoice with Channukah, celebrate Kwanza, sing Merry Christmas or find some other holiday to make you joyful. When you're with those you love, EVERYDAY is a celebration!
Friday, November 27, 2015
Snurffle Day?
Oh the day was filled with wondrous activity. In one day we bought pajamas for the girls, then went to a Christmas tree farm. When we got home we decorated the house for Christmas. That is the bare bones of Snurffle Day. Let me enlarge that framework.
The holiday started as a Nyle B. Smith production. He would go and get a license from some small town in central Utah. Then he would take our four wheel vehicle up into the mountains and find THE perfect tree!
I would stay home with the girlies, or we would go out and purchase new jammies for them. We would all be buzzing with anticipation as we knew that our Christmas tree would soon be at home.
It was Nyle that gave it an official name. I believe I asked him, "We should have a name for this day." He did not even hesitate. He said, "Snurffle Day." I said, "Perfect!"
Over the years the day continued to evolve. Living in Portland we had very close access to all the Christmas trees that we could ever want! No more licenses and mountain climbing for a tree. We found a lovely Christmas tree farm that was about 20 minutes out from our home. We would ride in a van up to the hill, then we would peruse acres of beautiful Christmas trees before we made our choice. In typical fashion, the girls would chose one and then say, "Oh look, there's a better tree down there!" Then off they would sprint, adrenaline powered by Snurffle Day excitement.
I did not usually mind the chase for the tree. Well except when it was raining so hard that it was like a lake fell out of the sky. Then I was eager to find that dang tree, have them chop it down, and get us down to the cafe, gift shop and dry warmth! NOW!
More often, it would be a perfect autumn fading into winter type of day. The hill that we chose our tree from dropped back on each side. On the top of that ridge, I felt like a Queen perusing her kingdom. Acres, and acres of evergreens dropped into a valley with quaint farmhouses and barns in the valley below.
Sometimes it seemed as though low lying clouds would get tangled in all the trees. When that happened it was a completely different sort of scene. Then I felt we were walking through or maybe on top of the clouds.
After we chose the perfect tree, we had to wait for a tree chopper to come by to chop said tree down. Then we had to wait a little longer for a van to drive us back to the cafe/gift shop. Free hot cocoa was served there.
Most years, Santa would be there waiting to hear the wishes of all the boyzus and girlzus. Sarah was TERRIFIED of the Jolly Old Elf. We have a few pictures taken where Santa is holding her, and she screaming at the top of her lungs! It was only for a couple of moments, and she has not needed therapy to overcome the trauma!
Each year we, the entire family, would have our picture taken with the jolly old chap! It's so much fun to look at all the pictures taken over the years. Our youngest daughter never did feel positively about Santa. I guess I can understand, I mean, apparently this man is hundreds of years old and lives at the North pole? It did not help when we went shopping and she saw Santa's all over the place at the same time. (We explained that Santa had LOTS of helpers). That seemed to calm Sarah a bit. She just never appreciated sitting anywhere close to a man with an obviously fake beard. Sitting on Santa's lap? Never an option! In this era of "Stranger danger." I get it.
There are several years when our beloved neighborhood daughter was also in the picture. She brought us great joy. I loved having a fresh new perspective on Snurffle Day. I believe that she and her husband have their own traditions for Snurffle Day now. (We do not have a patent on Snurffle Day. Anyone may use it)!
One year we were too late. St. Nicholas had returned to the North Pole. He evidently had a new, improved, sleigh that did not fly so much as warp sped him home!
We were all ever so disappointed. Nyle excused himself to use the facilities. Several moments later I almost choked on my hot cocoa! He assured us that it was OK REAL Santa had gone home. Ghetto Santa was there to help us. Oh how I wish you could see this fabulous Santa. He had the traditional white beard, and moustache. They were made out of toilet paper. Hence the "ghetto" appellation.
Nonetheless, we were undaunted by his rather unique apparel, we took that family picture gosh darn it! That became my favorite of all the Snurffle days. I mean, come on, how many times do you get to have Ghetto Santa at your party?
After the traditional family pictorial if we became bored waiting for our tree to be shaken, bound, and tied on top of our car we would climb the stairs to a magical kingdom. In that place and space I felt like a child. Not a child AGAIN, because I never really left my first childhood! I firmly hold on to the right to be childlike. This means that I get to be truly astonished by the blinking of Christmas lights outside or on the tree. Glitering Christmas tree ornaments still give me wonder.
A few years my Mama was either living in Portland or had come up for the holidays. I had so much fun watching my 80 something Mama walk through that gift shop. As I watched her I realized who had taught by her example my childlike wonder. She too was mesmerized by the tiny Christmas villages, the ornaments of dizzyingly different sizes, shapes, and selection.
My Mom, myself, and our girls created three generations of Christmas joy! All too soon it would be time to head to the car. The car would be infused with the magical smell of evergreen. Not the tiny deodorizer evergreen that is common these days. No this was the real thing. The piquant, unique smell of a lovely hillside. It was the smell of clean air, pine sap, and happiness.
Sometimes we would stop at a store afterwards to buy those wonderful jammies. I still own a robe that we purchased for my Snurffle Day bed attire...I probably will have to put it on today!
Update: I just received a most delightful Snurffle Day surprise. One of my favorite holiday treats...Kisses that are white chocolate with little bits of peppermint candy! AWESOME!
For the rest of my life I will keep close to my heart the magic and wonder of Snurffle Day. It is a day when everything seems possible. The hardest parts of life are suspended for one entire day.
Nyle, the Snurffle Day Master passed away four years ago but he left behind two beautiful daughters who carry on his traditions. Nyle will be present, in spirit, at each and every Snurffle Day. We will hear his laughter, and relish the things he taught us.
HAPPY SNURFFLE DAY TO ALL...AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT! Well, that's after Snurffle Day, you know when it gets dark and it's time to go to bed...after Snurffle day is actually over, that's when you should have a good night...okay, I will now stop rambling...
The holiday started as a Nyle B. Smith production. He would go and get a license from some small town in central Utah. Then he would take our four wheel vehicle up into the mountains and find THE perfect tree!
I would stay home with the girlies, or we would go out and purchase new jammies for them. We would all be buzzing with anticipation as we knew that our Christmas tree would soon be at home.
It was Nyle that gave it an official name. I believe I asked him, "We should have a name for this day." He did not even hesitate. He said, "Snurffle Day." I said, "Perfect!"
Over the years the day continued to evolve. Living in Portland we had very close access to all the Christmas trees that we could ever want! No more licenses and mountain climbing for a tree. We found a lovely Christmas tree farm that was about 20 minutes out from our home. We would ride in a van up to the hill, then we would peruse acres of beautiful Christmas trees before we made our choice. In typical fashion, the girls would chose one and then say, "Oh look, there's a better tree down there!" Then off they would sprint, adrenaline powered by Snurffle Day excitement.
I did not usually mind the chase for the tree. Well except when it was raining so hard that it was like a lake fell out of the sky. Then I was eager to find that dang tree, have them chop it down, and get us down to the cafe, gift shop and dry warmth! NOW!
More often, it would be a perfect autumn fading into winter type of day. The hill that we chose our tree from dropped back on each side. On the top of that ridge, I felt like a Queen perusing her kingdom. Acres, and acres of evergreens dropped into a valley with quaint farmhouses and barns in the valley below.
Sometimes it seemed as though low lying clouds would get tangled in all the trees. When that happened it was a completely different sort of scene. Then I felt we were walking through or maybe on top of the clouds.
After we chose the perfect tree, we had to wait for a tree chopper to come by to chop said tree down. Then we had to wait a little longer for a van to drive us back to the cafe/gift shop. Free hot cocoa was served there.
Most years, Santa would be there waiting to hear the wishes of all the boyzus and girlzus. Sarah was TERRIFIED of the Jolly Old Elf. We have a few pictures taken where Santa is holding her, and she screaming at the top of her lungs! It was only for a couple of moments, and she has not needed therapy to overcome the trauma!
Each year we, the entire family, would have our picture taken with the jolly old chap! It's so much fun to look at all the pictures taken over the years. Our youngest daughter never did feel positively about Santa. I guess I can understand, I mean, apparently this man is hundreds of years old and lives at the North pole? It did not help when we went shopping and she saw Santa's all over the place at the same time. (We explained that Santa had LOTS of helpers). That seemed to calm Sarah a bit. She just never appreciated sitting anywhere close to a man with an obviously fake beard. Sitting on Santa's lap? Never an option! In this era of "Stranger danger." I get it.
There are several years when our beloved neighborhood daughter was also in the picture. She brought us great joy. I loved having a fresh new perspective on Snurffle Day. I believe that she and her husband have their own traditions for Snurffle Day now. (We do not have a patent on Snurffle Day. Anyone may use it)!
One year we were too late. St. Nicholas had returned to the North Pole. He evidently had a new, improved, sleigh that did not fly so much as warp sped him home!
We were all ever so disappointed. Nyle excused himself to use the facilities. Several moments later I almost choked on my hot cocoa! He assured us that it was OK REAL Santa had gone home. Ghetto Santa was there to help us. Oh how I wish you could see this fabulous Santa. He had the traditional white beard, and moustache. They were made out of toilet paper. Hence the "ghetto" appellation.
Nonetheless, we were undaunted by his rather unique apparel, we took that family picture gosh darn it! That became my favorite of all the Snurffle days. I mean, come on, how many times do you get to have Ghetto Santa at your party?
After the traditional family pictorial if we became bored waiting for our tree to be shaken, bound, and tied on top of our car we would climb the stairs to a magical kingdom. In that place and space I felt like a child. Not a child AGAIN, because I never really left my first childhood! I firmly hold on to the right to be childlike. This means that I get to be truly astonished by the blinking of Christmas lights outside or on the tree. Glitering Christmas tree ornaments still give me wonder.
A few years my Mama was either living in Portland or had come up for the holidays. I had so much fun watching my 80 something Mama walk through that gift shop. As I watched her I realized who had taught by her example my childlike wonder. She too was mesmerized by the tiny Christmas villages, the ornaments of dizzyingly different sizes, shapes, and selection.
My Mom, myself, and our girls created three generations of Christmas joy! All too soon it would be time to head to the car. The car would be infused with the magical smell of evergreen. Not the tiny deodorizer evergreen that is common these days. No this was the real thing. The piquant, unique smell of a lovely hillside. It was the smell of clean air, pine sap, and happiness.
Sometimes we would stop at a store afterwards to buy those wonderful jammies. I still own a robe that we purchased for my Snurffle Day bed attire...I probably will have to put it on today!
Update: I just received a most delightful Snurffle Day surprise. One of my favorite holiday treats...Kisses that are white chocolate with little bits of peppermint candy! AWESOME!
For the rest of my life I will keep close to my heart the magic and wonder of Snurffle Day. It is a day when everything seems possible. The hardest parts of life are suspended for one entire day.
Nyle, the Snurffle Day Master passed away four years ago but he left behind two beautiful daughters who carry on his traditions. Nyle will be present, in spirit, at each and every Snurffle Day. We will hear his laughter, and relish the things he taught us.
HAPPY SNURFFLE DAY TO ALL...AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT! Well, that's after Snurffle Day, you know when it gets dark and it's time to go to bed...after Snurffle day is actually over, that's when you should have a good night...okay, I will now stop rambling...
Thursday, November 19, 2015
Hard Things - Good Things?
My nephew was driving rapidly down the freeway. My niece was also there to give me moral support. Our route was right past the car accident. I should say THE car accident. The accident that my husband and two daughters had just experienced.
As we passed what was left of our daughter's car I began to sob. The car looked like metal spaghetti. I could not fathom how anyone could have survived such enormous trauma! I managed to sob out to my nephew and niece, "Don't worry, I'm OK, I just need to let out this sorrow so that I can then be strong in the hospital for my family."
As we continued hurtling rapidly down the highway an impression came into my mind. The impression was, "You are about to attend a master class on difficulties of many types, many levels. If you endure them well there will be gifts given, and lifetime lessons learned."
I didn't completely understand what that meant. When we entered the ER I could hear my husband shouting. No sound had ever been so lovely to me. Having him shout meant that he was very much alive!
Our oldest daughter was in a room with a badly broken right arm, and in shock. Our youngest daughter had been holding everything together, but when we arrived she kind of fell apart. That meant that I had three family members, in three different ER rooms. How could I be in three places at once? Our dearest nephew and niece had two children at home. They had left them in the care of Grandma. They spent their night helping me to make certain all three of my family had support at all times. We would rotate so that I could spend time with each one.
HARD? I kept telling myself, it could be SO MUCH WORSE! They're all alive...they're alive! At one point a Highway Patrol officer who had reported at the accident site came to the ER to find me. He said, "I just wanted to tell you that it's a miracle your family is alive. I reported at an identical accident last week. Every single person was dead!"
I thanked him, but was shaken by what he had told me. I also came to realize another miracle. I was supposed to be in the car with them that night. I usually sat behind Nyle in the car. Anyone behind Nyle would have been crushed. The trunk was pushed forward around Nyle, and his seat was pushed back into the trunk. I had decided at the last minute to stay home and take care of a procrastinated, and necessary errand.
The following six weeks were AGONY! My sweet husband had broken all 12 ribs on the right, punctured his lung, damaged his internal organs, broken his right arm, and right shoulder, and destroyed about 5 levels of his back. He was one giant bruise from head to foot.
Ardis and Sarah were adults. Yet every cell in my body cried out to be with them as they battled the consequences of this horrific experience. I will eternally be grateful for beloved friends that stayed with Ardis and Sarah for two weeks to make certain they were OK. They sacrificed lots of things to make time for their care of our girls.
Nyle was in horrible pain. (As you can imagine). He had many life threatening health problems before the car accident. So many that I did not dare leave him alone in the hospital. There were a couple of times that I was able to catch a mistake that the nurses almost made that would have killed him. He had one nurse that I felt comfortable enough with to actually sleep for a few hours. (I kept a foam mattress there and would stretch it out and sleep when I could).
I was overwhelmed with the support of friends and family, and our wonderful church family. When I reached critical mass, (beyond my own physical limits) many men volunteered to stay with Nyle around the clock so that I could get some rest, in my own bed, in my own home.
It seemed that anytime a need happened, a solution appeared. Our family car was very, very old. The accident was in 2009, the car had been a grand luxury car in the mid 1980's. All the luxuries were wearing out. For example, the electric windows. The windows had fallen into the track and would not come out. If I needed to drive somewhere during inclement weather, I would have to take a blanket to put over my left shoulder to keep from getting soaked.
Then we got a call from our niece. They had been about to turn in their old van to get a new van. She had felt impressed to not sell the old van. They gave it to us. To them it was an "old" van. To us it was about 20 years newer than our car. We needed a van. Nyle's mobility had been severely compromised before the accident. He had an electric scooter. Previously we had not been able to take his scooter with us (no car that would do that), and now we could.
Food mysteriously appeared on our doorstep. Money also mysteriously came to us. The outpouring of love and support was wonderful.
When Nyle came home from the hospital, it was even harder. At least at the hospital there was a nurse to help me with Nyle's care. His insurance ran out, and would not pay for in house physical therapy, so even though he NEEDED physical therapy, and care in a hospital, he had to come home.
I can't imagine how I would have managed without our angel daughters. We took turns caring for him in the night. That meant that usually we could get at least 4 hours of undisturbed rest. Often I would lie down and sleep on the floor next to Nyle's bed. (He had to have a special adjustable bed to sleep in due to his injuries, and lung disease).
The bed was another miracle. I had been crying on the shoulder one day of a dear friend. I confided that I didn't have any idea what I was going to do when Nyle came home and needed an adjustable bed. He literally could no longer breathe when he lay down in a flat bed. Also, the pain from his multiple injuries was worsened in a bed that was flat.
She said matter of factly, "We purchased an adjustable Tempurpedic bed for me. It was the best adjustable bed that we could find. I can't sleep in it. For many reasons I sleep in a reclining chair. We're going to give the bed to Nyle."
My response? "Shouldn't you speak to your husband?" Next I said, "No, we can't take that, it's too much. Unless, we might be able to pay you a little something once in awhile?"
She answered firmly, "This is the right thing to do. Nyle needs the bed, and I have the bed."
Her husband was not as quickly excited by the idea as his dear wife, but he came around. She would allow for no other possibility. She just continued to say, "This is the right thing to do...so this is going to happen."
Nyle had a rental adjustable bed that he had been using at home. We sent it back (thus ending the enormous rental bill), and men from our church group picked up the donated bed, traveled to our home, and put the bed in Nyle's room. Voila! Nyle was the proud owner of a very comfortable bed!
Some of the lessons that I learned in this fiery amalgam of experience?
1. Family and friends are the greatest blessings you can have in this world. Love, kindness, and constant support were poured out upon us as we faced this experience.
2. God was as close as a prayer. He did not take away the challenges, but he strengthened us to bear it. He also spoke peace to our souls while we struggled.
3. Our needs were met in a timely manner, and often in a miraculous fashion!
4. I love Nyle...forever...and for always. I loved him before the car accident. Having him almost taken away reminded me how much I loved him!
5. We have two amazing daughters. They came to the hospital everyday and spent hours lifting their Father's spirits, this even though both of them were still struggling with pain issues of their own. They did everything they could to support their parents with great love and humor.
There were so many gifts, lessons, and love that helped us through this almost indefinably hard time. My list up above just barely scratches the surface!
I would NEVER wish to experience anything like that, ever again! Yet I am grateful for the gifts of love that we received, and the lessons that I learned during this experience. Was this hard? Of course it was. On the other hand, hard does not always mean bad!
As we passed what was left of our daughter's car I began to sob. The car looked like metal spaghetti. I could not fathom how anyone could have survived such enormous trauma! I managed to sob out to my nephew and niece, "Don't worry, I'm OK, I just need to let out this sorrow so that I can then be strong in the hospital for my family."
As we continued hurtling rapidly down the highway an impression came into my mind. The impression was, "You are about to attend a master class on difficulties of many types, many levels. If you endure them well there will be gifts given, and lifetime lessons learned."
I didn't completely understand what that meant. When we entered the ER I could hear my husband shouting. No sound had ever been so lovely to me. Having him shout meant that he was very much alive!
Our oldest daughter was in a room with a badly broken right arm, and in shock. Our youngest daughter had been holding everything together, but when we arrived she kind of fell apart. That meant that I had three family members, in three different ER rooms. How could I be in three places at once? Our dearest nephew and niece had two children at home. They had left them in the care of Grandma. They spent their night helping me to make certain all three of my family had support at all times. We would rotate so that I could spend time with each one.
HARD? I kept telling myself, it could be SO MUCH WORSE! They're all alive...they're alive! At one point a Highway Patrol officer who had reported at the accident site came to the ER to find me. He said, "I just wanted to tell you that it's a miracle your family is alive. I reported at an identical accident last week. Every single person was dead!"
I thanked him, but was shaken by what he had told me. I also came to realize another miracle. I was supposed to be in the car with them that night. I usually sat behind Nyle in the car. Anyone behind Nyle would have been crushed. The trunk was pushed forward around Nyle, and his seat was pushed back into the trunk. I had decided at the last minute to stay home and take care of a procrastinated, and necessary errand.
The following six weeks were AGONY! My sweet husband had broken all 12 ribs on the right, punctured his lung, damaged his internal organs, broken his right arm, and right shoulder, and destroyed about 5 levels of his back. He was one giant bruise from head to foot.
Ardis and Sarah were adults. Yet every cell in my body cried out to be with them as they battled the consequences of this horrific experience. I will eternally be grateful for beloved friends that stayed with Ardis and Sarah for two weeks to make certain they were OK. They sacrificed lots of things to make time for their care of our girls.
Nyle was in horrible pain. (As you can imagine). He had many life threatening health problems before the car accident. So many that I did not dare leave him alone in the hospital. There were a couple of times that I was able to catch a mistake that the nurses almost made that would have killed him. He had one nurse that I felt comfortable enough with to actually sleep for a few hours. (I kept a foam mattress there and would stretch it out and sleep when I could).
I was overwhelmed with the support of friends and family, and our wonderful church family. When I reached critical mass, (beyond my own physical limits) many men volunteered to stay with Nyle around the clock so that I could get some rest, in my own bed, in my own home.
It seemed that anytime a need happened, a solution appeared. Our family car was very, very old. The accident was in 2009, the car had been a grand luxury car in the mid 1980's. All the luxuries were wearing out. For example, the electric windows. The windows had fallen into the track and would not come out. If I needed to drive somewhere during inclement weather, I would have to take a blanket to put over my left shoulder to keep from getting soaked.
Then we got a call from our niece. They had been about to turn in their old van to get a new van. She had felt impressed to not sell the old van. They gave it to us. To them it was an "old" van. To us it was about 20 years newer than our car. We needed a van. Nyle's mobility had been severely compromised before the accident. He had an electric scooter. Previously we had not been able to take his scooter with us (no car that would do that), and now we could.
Food mysteriously appeared on our doorstep. Money also mysteriously came to us. The outpouring of love and support was wonderful.
When Nyle came home from the hospital, it was even harder. At least at the hospital there was a nurse to help me with Nyle's care. His insurance ran out, and would not pay for in house physical therapy, so even though he NEEDED physical therapy, and care in a hospital, he had to come home.
I can't imagine how I would have managed without our angel daughters. We took turns caring for him in the night. That meant that usually we could get at least 4 hours of undisturbed rest. Often I would lie down and sleep on the floor next to Nyle's bed. (He had to have a special adjustable bed to sleep in due to his injuries, and lung disease).
The bed was another miracle. I had been crying on the shoulder one day of a dear friend. I confided that I didn't have any idea what I was going to do when Nyle came home and needed an adjustable bed. He literally could no longer breathe when he lay down in a flat bed. Also, the pain from his multiple injuries was worsened in a bed that was flat.
She said matter of factly, "We purchased an adjustable Tempurpedic bed for me. It was the best adjustable bed that we could find. I can't sleep in it. For many reasons I sleep in a reclining chair. We're going to give the bed to Nyle."
My response? "Shouldn't you speak to your husband?" Next I said, "No, we can't take that, it's too much. Unless, we might be able to pay you a little something once in awhile?"
She answered firmly, "This is the right thing to do. Nyle needs the bed, and I have the bed."
Her husband was not as quickly excited by the idea as his dear wife, but he came around. She would allow for no other possibility. She just continued to say, "This is the right thing to do...so this is going to happen."
Nyle had a rental adjustable bed that he had been using at home. We sent it back (thus ending the enormous rental bill), and men from our church group picked up the donated bed, traveled to our home, and put the bed in Nyle's room. Voila! Nyle was the proud owner of a very comfortable bed!
Some of the lessons that I learned in this fiery amalgam of experience?
1. Family and friends are the greatest blessings you can have in this world. Love, kindness, and constant support were poured out upon us as we faced this experience.
2. God was as close as a prayer. He did not take away the challenges, but he strengthened us to bear it. He also spoke peace to our souls while we struggled.
3. Our needs were met in a timely manner, and often in a miraculous fashion!
4. I love Nyle...forever...and for always. I loved him before the car accident. Having him almost taken away reminded me how much I loved him!
5. We have two amazing daughters. They came to the hospital everyday and spent hours lifting their Father's spirits, this even though both of them were still struggling with pain issues of their own. They did everything they could to support their parents with great love and humor.
There were so many gifts, lessons, and love that helped us through this almost indefinably hard time. My list up above just barely scratches the surface!
I would NEVER wish to experience anything like that, ever again! Yet I am grateful for the gifts of love that we received, and the lessons that I learned during this experience. Was this hard? Of course it was. On the other hand, hard does not always mean bad!
Saturday, October 10, 2015
Bambi Sings to Bingo
During our dating, Nyle and I made fun of silly people that were in love and calling each other foolish nicknames. You know, like Snoogybuns, or Booie, (Nyle rented a room from a couple for the first year of their marriage. They called him Baby Booie)! lol
When we married, we started calling each other silly names as a joke. OOOPS! Poor idea as so many of them stuck. Some where based on parts of Nyle's name...Nybrith, Nylie, Nyleanator, etc.
He pretty much just called me honey, honey bunny, or honeybunch. Nobody told us that those names would stick and be repeated for 27 years of marriage.
Nyle came to our marriage with MANY nicknames all ready. His beloved nephew called him Nagoo Nyoo. Apparently that name happened when the nephew was too young to say Uncle Nyle.
In his family of boys, each had a nickname that rhymed with their first name. Nyle's was Nyle the Pyle! He, for obvious reasons, did not care for THIS nickname. His family also called him "Dunky Doll," because he was admittedly one of the cutest little boys imaginable.
Nyle burdened himself with the nickname Bingo. He played a tiny role, in a tiny play, in a tiny theater at his college. Nyle was an ACTOR! He was very proud of his chops as an actor and rightly so! He was so embarrassed to be in this play, (with a tiny part) which his professor/friend had bribed him to be in, that he put his name on the program as BINGO SMITH. That backfired....big time! Imagine his surprise when he received an extremely prestigious nomination in college acting circles. The "Irene Ryan Award." Some of you may remember the actress as Granny Clampett in the show, "The Beverley Hillbillies."
Actually, NYLE Smith did NOT receive the nomination. You guessed it, BINGO Smith received the nomination. The nickname stuck. Many dear friends remember him with that name.
Bambi? Nyle and I faced many, MANY health crises in our life together. We developed a "gallows humor," approach to living with the distinct possibility of death. Between the two of us we faced cancer (both of us), Diabetes (Nyle), and many, many other life threatening illnesses. So we would joke back and forth, "If I die, I want you to remarry." He said it to me so many times I finally said, "Fine. If you die, I'll remarry. I won't remarry somebody wonderful because NOBODY could be as wonderful as YOU! So, I'll marry a Stupid Stud named Steve!" (Obviously we liked alliteration, but wait here comes the rest). He countered with, "I'll marry a Blond Bimbo named Bambi."
Somehow, someway, Bambi became one of MY nicknames. On a business trip, he sent me a postcard. It was a picture of three, extremely attractive, brawny, ripped, and tan, men. The postcard read, "Bambi, Heard the old man's out of town. We should get together, signed, Steve, Steve, and Steve."
We adored to sing together. One Karaoke night, Nyle excused himself. I was chatting with our other friends at the table. Suddenly I hear the DJ announce, "Now we'll hear a musical number from Bambi and Bingo." I looked up, and Nyle was standing by the DJ beckoning for me to join them. Of course, I did.
Nyle DID die before me, THE STINKER! I will NOT be dating or marrying any Steve's. I WILL be carrying on the best of the love we shared, and looking forward to being reunited with him in the world beyond this life.
I could NOT sing or speak at his funeral. I was numb, faced with the reality of endless days and nights without my love. In my mind I promised him that I WOULD sing a concert for him, and about our love and marriage. This coming Friday, I will meet that goal. I am also writing a book, "Happy Not Crappy," that is based on the true story of our courtship, romance, and marriage. Please watch for that book.
When we married, we started calling each other silly names as a joke. OOOPS! Poor idea as so many of them stuck. Some where based on parts of Nyle's name...Nybrith, Nylie, Nyleanator, etc.
He pretty much just called me honey, honey bunny, or honeybunch. Nobody told us that those names would stick and be repeated for 27 years of marriage.
Nyle came to our marriage with MANY nicknames all ready. His beloved nephew called him Nagoo Nyoo. Apparently that name happened when the nephew was too young to say Uncle Nyle.
In his family of boys, each had a nickname that rhymed with their first name. Nyle's was Nyle the Pyle! He, for obvious reasons, did not care for THIS nickname. His family also called him "Dunky Doll," because he was admittedly one of the cutest little boys imaginable.
Nyle burdened himself with the nickname Bingo. He played a tiny role, in a tiny play, in a tiny theater at his college. Nyle was an ACTOR! He was very proud of his chops as an actor and rightly so! He was so embarrassed to be in this play, (with a tiny part) which his professor/friend had bribed him to be in, that he put his name on the program as BINGO SMITH. That backfired....big time! Imagine his surprise when he received an extremely prestigious nomination in college acting circles. The "Irene Ryan Award." Some of you may remember the actress as Granny Clampett in the show, "The Beverley Hillbillies."
Actually, NYLE Smith did NOT receive the nomination. You guessed it, BINGO Smith received the nomination. The nickname stuck. Many dear friends remember him with that name.
Bambi? Nyle and I faced many, MANY health crises in our life together. We developed a "gallows humor," approach to living with the distinct possibility of death. Between the two of us we faced cancer (both of us), Diabetes (Nyle), and many, many other life threatening illnesses. So we would joke back and forth, "If I die, I want you to remarry." He said it to me so many times I finally said, "Fine. If you die, I'll remarry. I won't remarry somebody wonderful because NOBODY could be as wonderful as YOU! So, I'll marry a Stupid Stud named Steve!" (Obviously we liked alliteration, but wait here comes the rest). He countered with, "I'll marry a Blond Bimbo named Bambi."
Somehow, someway, Bambi became one of MY nicknames. On a business trip, he sent me a postcard. It was a picture of three, extremely attractive, brawny, ripped, and tan, men. The postcard read, "Bambi, Heard the old man's out of town. We should get together, signed, Steve, Steve, and Steve."
We adored to sing together. One Karaoke night, Nyle excused himself. I was chatting with our other friends at the table. Suddenly I hear the DJ announce, "Now we'll hear a musical number from Bambi and Bingo." I looked up, and Nyle was standing by the DJ beckoning for me to join them. Of course, I did.
Nyle DID die before me, THE STINKER! I will NOT be dating or marrying any Steve's. I WILL be carrying on the best of the love we shared, and looking forward to being reunited with him in the world beyond this life.
I could NOT sing or speak at his funeral. I was numb, faced with the reality of endless days and nights without my love. In my mind I promised him that I WOULD sing a concert for him, and about our love and marriage. This coming Friday, I will meet that goal. I am also writing a book, "Happy Not Crappy," that is based on the true story of our courtship, romance, and marriage. Please watch for that book.
Friday, September 18, 2015
Hero/Heroine? Hero/Shero
I wonder who in the history of our language decided that the female version of a hero should be a heroine? That is the name of a drug. Why would a heroic action performed by a female be called the name of a drug?
Actually if you look at the work HERO you can see evidence that the word itself referred to heroic females. HER O...spoken in the inflection Her OOOOOOHHHH!
Hero and Shero seem like a better choice to me. I would never wish to be called the name of drug for performing acts of service. I've heard people use the term hero for both male and female. I believe that makes some sense. If you need to be reminded, check the paragraph above.
This last week our youngest daughter had "Hero Day," at the school where she teaches 5th grade. It made me think about the heros, and sheros of my life. I have so very many, grandparents, parents, my beloved husband, but especially our two daughters.
When Nyle died, his income died with him. That left me attempting to pay all of our bills on my Social Security Disability Income. That teeny amount did not even begin to pay the monthly bills.
Our youngest daughter worked at a part-time job that she really did not enjoy. It earned money. So she stuck with it.
Not long after our oldest daughter got a job. They both stuck by me as we attempted to find a "New normal." I moved, and then we got smart and realized that having all three of us share the expenses of a home made the most sense.
That is not all our girls do. They watch over me and my physical challenges with great love and patience. They pay the bills and keep an eye on expenses. They cook and shop. They make me laugh. They are patient with me when I chatter like a magpie.
Our girls are one of the very greatest blessings in my life. They ARE my SHEROES! I want them to know that I recognize this about them!
Actually if you look at the work HERO you can see evidence that the word itself referred to heroic females. HER O...spoken in the inflection Her OOOOOOHHHH!
Hero and Shero seem like a better choice to me. I would never wish to be called the name of drug for performing acts of service. I've heard people use the term hero for both male and female. I believe that makes some sense. If you need to be reminded, check the paragraph above.
This last week our youngest daughter had "Hero Day," at the school where she teaches 5th grade. It made me think about the heros, and sheros of my life. I have so very many, grandparents, parents, my beloved husband, but especially our two daughters.
When Nyle died, his income died with him. That left me attempting to pay all of our bills on my Social Security Disability Income. That teeny amount did not even begin to pay the monthly bills.
Our youngest daughter worked at a part-time job that she really did not enjoy. It earned money. So she stuck with it.
Not long after our oldest daughter got a job. They both stuck by me as we attempted to find a "New normal." I moved, and then we got smart and realized that having all three of us share the expenses of a home made the most sense.
That is not all our girls do. They watch over me and my physical challenges with great love and patience. They pay the bills and keep an eye on expenses. They cook and shop. They make me laugh. They are patient with me when I chatter like a magpie.
Our girls are one of the very greatest blessings in my life. They ARE my SHEROES! I want them to know that I recognize this about them!
Happy Birthday to Ardis the Great(est) Daughter!!
The doctor said, "It's a girl!" Nyle said, "How can you tell? All you can see is the babies head?"
The doctor said, "This baby has very feminine features. "I'm almost always right! about gender!"
Sure enough the baby DID have feminine features. She was beautiful from the first moment she drew air. Her hair was thick and black. Her eyes were a deep sky blue. I was ever so excited about her eyes. I thought she would have eyes the color of her Father's. I was a bit disappointed when her blue eyes turned golden brown. The disappointment didn't last. She has the same golden-brown eyes as MY Father.
Any place that we took baby Ardis she drew attention. People raved and ranted over her lovely features, and her amazing hair. We were surprised and amused at how many people told us that her hair WOULD fall out, and then grow back in. I imagine they were trying to be kind in warning us. Ardis' hair NEVER fell out. It just got longer, and longer. It was to her waist by the time she was three years old.
Ardis was a very easy baby. If she fussed you KNEW that something was wrong. For example, one night she cried, cried, and cried. We took her to the ER about 3 a.m. They discovered that she had a terrible ear infection.
From the first, Ardis was always good at self-comforting. Feed her, change her, give her a playpen, toys, and she would be happy for hours.
When I was pregnant with Ardis her Papa listened to some pretty rowdy music as "white noise." He was a very light sleeper but the music seemed to help him relax.
It had the opposite affect on me. I wanted to get up and dance to the music. After he went to sleep I would turn off the music and I would go to sleep.
When Ardis was about a month old I was trying to rock her to sleep one night. She could not seem to calm herself and go to sleep. She wasn't fussy, but she wasn't sleepy either. I put on some calm Barry Manilow music. That seemed to make her fussier.
Then I thought about Nyle's crazy bedtime music. I put on one of his cassettes and she was asleep in minutes. I do think that she eventually grew out of listening to loud music at bedtime, thank goodness.
Today is the 29th anniversary of Ardis' birth. I don't believe that we had any concept of the great things that she would accomplish. She was Valedictorian of the History Department at Brigham Young University. She went to London Study Abroad as part of her undergraduate work, and then also attended a term at Cambridge as part of a student transfer program. She then earned her Master's at Cambridge University.
Ardis volunteered with the Model United Nations program at BYU, and then at a National Level. She has helped teach students from all around the world about the Democratic Process of the United Nations. In this work she has elevated the lives of hundreds of young people.
Ardis has always been a deeply loving daughter. As parents we have always been hugely blessed by Ardis. She has helped us to reach higher in life, and to reach out more to others with love. Thanks RDK for being such an amazing human being. We love you!
The doctor said, "This baby has very feminine features. "I'm almost always right! about gender!"
Sure enough the baby DID have feminine features. She was beautiful from the first moment she drew air. Her hair was thick and black. Her eyes were a deep sky blue. I was ever so excited about her eyes. I thought she would have eyes the color of her Father's. I was a bit disappointed when her blue eyes turned golden brown. The disappointment didn't last. She has the same golden-brown eyes as MY Father.
Any place that we took baby Ardis she drew attention. People raved and ranted over her lovely features, and her amazing hair. We were surprised and amused at how many people told us that her hair WOULD fall out, and then grow back in. I imagine they were trying to be kind in warning us. Ardis' hair NEVER fell out. It just got longer, and longer. It was to her waist by the time she was three years old.
Ardis was a very easy baby. If she fussed you KNEW that something was wrong. For example, one night she cried, cried, and cried. We took her to the ER about 3 a.m. They discovered that she had a terrible ear infection.
From the first, Ardis was always good at self-comforting. Feed her, change her, give her a playpen, toys, and she would be happy for hours.
When I was pregnant with Ardis her Papa listened to some pretty rowdy music as "white noise." He was a very light sleeper but the music seemed to help him relax.
It had the opposite affect on me. I wanted to get up and dance to the music. After he went to sleep I would turn off the music and I would go to sleep.
When Ardis was about a month old I was trying to rock her to sleep one night. She could not seem to calm herself and go to sleep. She wasn't fussy, but she wasn't sleepy either. I put on some calm Barry Manilow music. That seemed to make her fussier.
Then I thought about Nyle's crazy bedtime music. I put on one of his cassettes and she was asleep in minutes. I do think that she eventually grew out of listening to loud music at bedtime, thank goodness.
Today is the 29th anniversary of Ardis' birth. I don't believe that we had any concept of the great things that she would accomplish. She was Valedictorian of the History Department at Brigham Young University. She went to London Study Abroad as part of her undergraduate work, and then also attended a term at Cambridge as part of a student transfer program. She then earned her Master's at Cambridge University.
Ardis volunteered with the Model United Nations program at BYU, and then at a National Level. She has helped teach students from all around the world about the Democratic Process of the United Nations. In this work she has elevated the lives of hundreds of young people.
Ardis has always been a deeply loving daughter. As parents we have always been hugely blessed by Ardis. She has helped us to reach higher in life, and to reach out more to others with love. Thanks RDK for being such an amazing human being. We love you!
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