They've Got Their Daddy's Toes

First it was the youngest son,

Twice.

Then it was the oldest son's turn.

Now the oldest daughter has proof too.

They all got their Daddy's toes - the ingrown ones that is.

Today I am thankful that

I have avoided ingrown toenails in my life, so far.
I got to spend some extra time with the hubby today.
my daughter brought me flowers just because.

How We Celebrate

Today was the hubby's birthday. He is now a year older than he was yesterday. It is our family tradition to go out to dinner to celebrate some one's birthday and the birthday boy (or girl) gets to choose where we go. The hubby chose to visit the Golden Corral buffet. We all got lots to eat except the grandson. He kept trying to get Grandpa to share

but finally he just had to resort to eating the table.

After dinner we hung out in the parking lot opening gifts, visiting, taking pictures and entertaining the other restaurant patrons.

Once again the son-in-law had to go to class instead of party. I guess that's what he gets for taking a class on Monday night.

It may not sound very exciting to you, but it's how we like to celebrate and I enjoyed myself immensely.

Today I am grateful for

MY HUSBAND! I am so lucky to be married to the most wonderful man in the world and I'm looking forward to celebrating a lot more birthdays with him.

Surprise sales at JC Penney that made the birthday gifts a real bargain.
beautiful spring evenings in Arizona.

Spanish Fork Bank Breakdown

In the fall of 1975 my family was in the process of moving from Heber City, Utah to Spanish Fork, Utah. My dad had been transferred to the Spanish Fork branch of First Security Bank and he and my mom had decided to build a new house a few blocks away from the bank after failing to find a home in the area that they wanted to purchase. When it came time for school to start my brother was a freshman at BYU and I was a junior in high school. It was determined that even though our house possibly wouldn't be completed until the start of 1976, I should begin the school year at Spanish Fork High School. This was not a very popular decision with me. I was still technically living in Heber, where all of my friends were, but spent most of my days in Spanish Fork, where I knew no one and I didn't like it.

Each morning we would arise early and my dad, my brother and I would head down Provo Canyon. My brother was dropped off at BYU and then my dad and I would continue on to Spanish Fork where he would deposit me at the High School before going on to the bank. I usually rode in the back seat of the car where it was easy to go back to sleep until we arrived in SF. I can still vividly remember the sound of the tires crossing over the cattle guard at the foot of the Spanish Fork freeway exit. That dreaded noise indicated that it was time to sit up and face a new day of anonymity at my new school when all I wanted to do was continue sleeping or go back home. When the school day finally ended I would walk the 2 blocks to the bank where I would check in with my dad, if he wasn't helping a customer, and then I would take up residence in the employee lounge in the basement of the bank until 5:30 or 6:00 PM when my dad could leave work.

As this daily schedule continued I began to feel that the bank was my home away from home. There were frequently treats on the lounge table that I could indulge in and always a pot of coffee percolating on the counter. I have never drunk coffee in my life, but that smell seemed very comforting to me for some reason, and made the little space seem almost homey. As I would sit and do my homework or read a book, the bank employees would wander in and out and ask me about school or my day. There were several women who were especially kind to me and I began to look forward to my visits with them. As I entered the bank in the afternoon I could always count on being greeted warmly by someone as I passed through on my way to the stairs. The bank started to become a place where I felt like I belonged, while I often spent the rest of the day trying to figure out where I fit in. I would still have preferred to be a Wasatch Wasp, but my time at the bank made the thought of becoming a Spanish Fork Don a little less painful.

At the end of December my family finally moved from Heber, where we had sold our home, and took up temporary residence in Payson, Utah with my Grandpa since our house still wasn't finished. Now that we actually lived in Utah County, my days at the bank became fewer and further apart since my mom or my brother could usually pick me up as soon as school got out. Then in February of 1976 we finally became official Spanish Fork residents and my afternoons at the bank became a thing of the past. However, every time I visited the bank, I still felt like I was welcomed as a member of the family and I continued to feel like this was a place where I belonged.

Fast forward 35 years - I haven't lived in Spanish Fork for close to 30 years, my dad hasn't been the manager of the First Security Bank there for more than 25 years, and it has probably been at least 15 years since I have actually been inside what is now the Wells Fargo Bank at 99 North Main Street in Spanish Fork. I have promised my sister that I will stop there on my way to Idaho and sign some papers that need to be signed in order to stop my dad's retirement checks that my mom has been receiving each month. The person I need to talk to is helping another customer and so I take a seat and wait for my turn.

The bank has been remodeled several times since the months that I felt like I practically lived here. The bathroom isn't where it belongs and the back stairs to the basement have disappeared. All of the higher management desks are now surrounded by clear plastic sound walls that present a somewhat stand offish attitude and all of the tellers behind the counter look like they could be my sons. I am treated cordially and with respect, but no one is welcoming me home as their long lost family member. As I sit with my back to the large bank vault, that is still right where it is suppose to be, and watch the familiar wooden gate, protecting the front staircase, swing back and forth behind an employee on his way to the basement break room, I am hit by a wave of nostalgia and homesickness that takes me by surprise.
I miss my dad.
I miss my mom.
I miss my friends at the bank.
I miss the feeling of belonging that I use to feel in this building.
I even miss those long ago days as a Spanish Fork Don that ended up being much better than I could have imagined during the final months of 1975.

I feel the tears begin to well up in my eyes and hope that I can complete my transaction before I have a complete breakdown. Thankfully, it is soon my turn to be helped and I maintain my composure until I walk out the back door, which isn't suppose to be there by the way, and into the parking lot. The youngest daughter seems to be OK with the fact that I feel the need to cry from Spanish Fork to Bountiful and since she is the one driving it doesn't matter that I can't see anything anyway.

Today I am thankful for

a daughter that is willing to stop and shop the sales with me.
a daughter that makes hotel reservations and knows how to order pizza.
extra McDonalds napkins.

Family Night Farewell Picnic

Tonight we all enjoyed a picnic at the park in honor of the youngest daughter leaving the big city to return to small town Idaho. It was such a pretty spring evening and we had fun just hanging out together.

We ate lots of yummy food

and played on the swings.

The youngest daughter thought it would be fun to drink out of the doggy drinking fountain.

Perhaps that's how they do it in the country. I thought it was kind of gross though.

We attempted a group photo on the slide before we left. We laughed and laughed and laughed and took lots of funny shots, but this was the best pose we ended up with. The son-in-law had a class tonight so he didn't get to join us and the extra is the former roommate who is still occasionally a member of our family.

We are going to miss you youngest daughter. Don't have too much fun without us.

Today I am grateful for

a daughter who organized our family picnic.
laughter.
my family.

He Knows Better Than I

A couple of days ago one of my youngest son's Sunday School teachers died. He was quite young and has 5 children, ages 16 to 2, 3 under the age of 5. There is some question as to the cause of death, but it is most likely that he died of a drug overdose or committed suicide. He has struggled most of his life with some mental illness and drug abuse. He served a mission and married in the temple, but has had long periods of inactivity followed by a renewed desire to do what is right. His family only lived in our ward for about 6 months, but it was during one of his better periods and he had a very positive influence on my son's life. His death has been difficult for my son to understand and I have also struggled with how much information I should share with him as I hear rumors and stories from many different sources. I have chosen to discuss openly all of the possibilities that I can reasonably substantiate, believing that I would rather he hear it from me and we talk about it than he hear it through gossip and silently wonder and worry about it.

Today after church my son asked me "Why are some people's lives so much harder than others?" This is a question that I often ask myself. It seems like no matter how hard some people try they always have challenges while it seems that life just kind of flows along happily for others. I didn't really know how to answer his question. We talked about how sometimes choices that we make or that other people make result in consequences that bring difficulties with them. I also told him that I think Heavenly Father allows us to have challenges so we can learn the things we need to know here on earth and become the person we need to be. I didn't really feel like my answers had made a difference and I wondered what more I could say. I asked his dad and they discussed the subject for awhile with a lot of the same ideas brought out again. Still, I wondered what he was really thinking about the whole question.

Later in the day this son was sitting in the living room singing. He enjoys singing and I will often hear him repeating his current favorite song over and over again. As he sang I tuned in to hear what song was number 1 on his list at the moment. As he sang the same portion of the song a number of times, I didn't recognize it, but the words became clear to me. What he was repeating was a chorus that said:

You know better than I
you know the way
I've let go the need to know why
For you know better than I.

I still didn't recognize the song, but the message of the song was familiar to me. I felt that this was in part an answer to my question of where my son stood following our discussion from earlier in the day. To me he was acknowledging his faith that I may not have all the answers, and his dad might not have all the answers, but his Heavenly Father has the answers to why. Along with that, the fact that he doesn't know why right now is OK, because God knows why and he knows better than any of us.

I asked the son what the song was and he said it was from the DVD "Joseph King of Dreams". I went online and looked up all the words to the song and was really touched by the entire message.

I thought I did what's right
I thought I had the answers
I thought I chose the surest road
But that road brought me here
So I put up a fight
And told you how to help me
Now just when I have given up
The truth is coming clear

Chorus 1:
You know better than I
You know the way
I've let go the need to know why
For You know better than I

If this has been a test
I cannot see the reason
But maybe knowing
I don't know is part of getting through
I tried to do what's best
But faith has made it easy
To see the best thing i can do
Is to put my trust in You.

Chorus 2
For, You know better than I
You know the way
I've let go the need to know why
For You know better than I

Coda:
I saw one cloud and thought it was a sky
I saw a bird and thought that I could follow
But it was You who taught that bird to fly
If i let You reach me
Will You teach me.
(Repeat Chorus )

For, You know better than I
You know the way
I've let go the need to know why
I'll take what answers you supply
You know better than I

I have developed a great love for the story of Joseph over the years. I am amazed by all the things that had to happen to Joseph in order for him to be who he was meant to be and for him to be in a position to literally save his family from death. If he had not been sold into bondage or thrown into prison what would have happened to him and his extended family when the famine occurred? Knowing the end of the story helps me to see the power of God's love and watchful care during the entire experience.

If I could know the end of the story would I better understand the difficulties that occur in my life and in the lives of others? Maybe, but I don't believe I am meant to know the end of the story yet. I need to have faith that Heavenly Father is aware of what is going on. I need to remember that He loves each one of His children, he knows the individual challenges that we each face and he sees the whole picture much better than I do. For right now that is enough for me to know and hopefully it is something that my son is learning as well.

Today I am grateful for

the opportunity to be at church in my own ward. Does it mean I have spent too much time on the road recently if the first thing I do when I sit down on the church bench is look for my seat belt and then I can't concentrate during the meeting because I don't fell safe because I'm not buckled in?
movies that contain positive messages and children who are willing to watch them.
a lesson reminded of by my son.

Random Questions from my Week

What is it I am looking for that I can't ever seem to find?
Why does the car seat always seem to be where it's not suppose to be?
Why does everything seem simpler in theory than in real life?
How was I so lucky to find the man I married?
Why don't I always appreciate him like I should?
Where am I going to put it?
How do you teach a baby to crawl?
Why would I want a baby to know how to crawl?
Why am I such a loser visiting teacher?
Why do I have a debit card in my purse that expired in 2008?
Do I have another one somewhere that hasn't expired?
Why tell me half the story if you're not going to tell me the other half?
Why does prom have to cost so much?
Why does a baby sleep so much better in someone's arms than in a bed?
Where is my son ever going to wear that ribbon shirt?
At what age do people stop smiling with their whole face?
How would I feel if my son didn't come home at night?
Why is General Conference not being broadcast on public television where I live?
Why does an airplane ticket from Idaho Falls to Phoenix cost $500 and require 2 layovers?
Why does punishing your children frequently require punishing yourself as well?
Why is it so hard for me to push the publish button on all the blog drafts I have written?
What's for dinner?
Who's eating dinner here?
Why did you buy pizza 30 minutes before dinner?
Why do people think making a bad choice will make their life easier?
Why do other people's choices have to affect so many people besides themselves?
Where could my library card be?
Why do we buy toys for kids when they would rather play with an empty soda cup, a water bottle and a pile of junk mail?
Why would anyone choose a hard boiled egg over one filled with money or one made of chocolate?
Why can't I enjoy the beautiful 80 degree weather instead of worrying about when it's going to hit 100?
Can post-partum depression last 26 years?
and the ever popular...
Why do I do the things I do when I know the things I know?