Family Week

I spent this week with my family in Utah and remembered what family feels like again. The way the chaos of little kids with running commentary is so familiar, and little arms always around your neck, and rubbing their little noses into your shoulder passes on colds and love all at the same time.
My niece is snuggling up to me now as I write, telling me everything. Really its been a miracle week for her, and for her little family - They were just sealed, and she was just adopted into our family. Her ability to be calm and at peace in the temple was a miracle we were all praying for.
Family time is full implications for me - like my dad's random commentary on my perpetual state of singleness . . . I can't help but smile. Besides inheriting colds from children, there are in-depth analysis of life with my sisters and therapy sessions about how to survive graduate programs and a quick jaunt to temple square. I feel irrationally proud of my sisters, I'm not quite sure how to describe it, but each of them are strong women who can make things happen, I like to think I can be a part of that.
This week I spent some time with my Mom going through an old chest of my grandma's who passed away last October. It was full of random nick-nacks, and part of her doll collection with little names and notes pinned to many of the dolls. I wondered why grandma had chosen to save the things that she did, one special little perfume bottle or a bunch of bobbins, but they reminded me of her, and most especially for my mom they were some part of her mother.
I inherited a harmonica from that chest and a small book, I think from the 1970s on how to play it. Learning how to play the harmonica just went on my bucket list.
I can't think of any other way that I'd rather spend a vacation.

Remembering Veterans Day

This morning on my way home from working out I listened to a clip on NPR about veterans from Vietnam who worked in the mortuary sending home the bodies of soldiers who had been killed. I was reminded of the weight that so many veterans bear. With the increasing coverage of vets who commit suicide, I felt grateful that it wasn't me who had to encounter so many brutalities of war . . . and then felt a little selfish for it.
http://www.npr.org/2010/11/11/131251081/vets-of-army-s-mortuary-unit-bear-unique-burden
In writing today I found my self trying to express gratitude without sermonizing on the pros and cons of wars previous and current. And because I don't really think today is a sermon day I won't.
Instead I remember Veterans Day growing up in Missouri- we had a parade for our local veterans and our marching band marched. As a kid, I liked the idea of getting out of school and going to the parade, and in Jr. High and High School I marched in the band. There was a fascination of the veterans who marched in that parade with us, for one day celebrities recognized for sacrifice in their own right. I'm not sure if many, or any, had thrilling experiences like the romanticized war hero. Making a sacrifice has never been a thrilling experience for me.
But somehow on veterans day I think back to our polyester band suits and Veterans marching together and feel pride to have been able to show appreciation in some small way for people who have kept my life relatively normal while their is often changed forever.

Just the kind of help I need

Its amazing how stress can make you feel a little crazy. I think yesterday was a high point in my craziness. After an early morning and long day of working on projects and presentations I finally made some headway. But thing that made all the difference? My roommate cleaned my room for me. You know people ask what they can do to help, but its kind of strange to ask someone to make your bed, or fold your laundry, but she did and I didn't even ask her. And ironically even though my to-do list isn't much shorter I feel so much better. Its these days that realize what my research on social support networks is all about - and think just how blessed I am to have so many people that will do the little things for me that make all the difference!

Letting Go

Letting go is something people say we should learn how to do. And for a lot of my life I think I've considered myself all to good at letting go. I've lived in 10 different cities in the past 10 years, 8 different states, and 3 different countries, some for a short time and some for a long time. Somehow in the middle of all that moving I've learned to really live for the moment, to take advantage of the present that I'm in, but when I move, to move on. My life has felt full of wonderful people and places and I have great memories. Still, I love looking to the future and the excitement of change.
Learning the transitions of letting go isn't easy, my mom described the way she moved on from her release from a calling . . . a transition of allow someone to take over, and not worrying, letting all the responsibility shift from her shoulders to another. Its not always easy when you've spent so much of your life and time invested in something and then the next day its not your job any more. I think the sensation is a lot like moving to a new place, a sense of sadness for what you're leaving behind in some ways, while excited about the prospect of more time or more people. Mom said for the first two weeks she spent a lot of time helping and training the new primary president but now . . . "When we pass in the hall I just hug her." What a nice way to move on in your life - support and hug. If only all transitions were that easy.
I'd like to think that somehow I've found the balance of moving on in a healthy way. New friends and old friends and great memories all blended up in my life. I work on letting go of stress, and pain and things people have done to offend me . . . and talk about the blessings of the atonement in healing. But sometimes I realize, like tonight that my ability to "let go" isn't strong as I would like.
Tonight I did something stupid . . . really bugged someone and made them mad, and now I'm regretting it. And despite my apology I'm having a hard time letting go. It seems ironic in a way, sometimes I can let go of the good things in my life so quickly - but my mind replays all the dumb things I've done in my life over and over again. That somehow this self-inflicted pain is going to help. I wish there was a way to stop the rewind, or even better just rewrite. But I can't.
I do what I can to remedy. Apologize, feel guilty and then get ready to let go . . . but here I am a few hours later still bothered and blogging. But then, I think about all of the times I have let go in the past, of relationships of hopes or of stress and I remember the healing process takes time and faith. And I feel just a bit hypocritical of all the times that I tell other people to be gentle on themselves and realize how hard that is. Maybe that's the function of this blog . . . a bit of self advice on letting go and somehow in the process I feel just a little bit better, taking my own advice.

Growing Old

"Live with enthusiasm. Nobody grows old by deserting their ideals. Years wrinkle the skin but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul. You're as young as your faith as old as your doubt. As young as your self-confidence as old as your fear. As young as your hope as old as your despair." - General Douglas McArthur

Have you ever received one of those things people intend as a compliment and it comes out all funny. Well this weekend was my prime for them. From 2oish-year-old guy: "You couldn't be 27 - you look really good for your age!" And of course, the "Andrea I would have never guessed how old you are!" :) Maybe that was why when my friend Matt (19) came up to me at the dance and said, "Andrea how do you survive these YSA conferences" I could smile so aptly and say - "A really great sense of humor!"

Its only about a month until my 28th birthday and to some that might mean I'm growing old. But taking the advice of Mary Ellen Edmunds I've just decided to grow . . . wise, kind or even better adorable.

Ok, ok so that might be a stretch but I feel like now more than ever I am settling in to who I am, or who I really want to be. I express more of what I think more readily, and have more confidence in listening and risking then I used to. Do I have things figured out? No way, but I am more confident that most other people don't either. That helps me relax a little more.

There's a woman in my parent's ward that inspires me to grow old- she's interesting and graceful and intelligent and incredibly kind. I think there is something beautiful about that kind of growing old. And I'd like to imitate it. My grandmother was one of those kinds of women. I didn't really know her well, but I remember little things about her that I loved, like how rosy her cheeks were, the way she wrote faithful letters to my mom because that was the easiest way for her to communicate, and the way that she was so quick give me those strong grandma pats (wacks really) and tell me how grown up and beautiful I was. Yes I can can be old. I'm ready to be more like that.