Gastronomical Machismo

Elder Tyler’s email today told of his adventurous eating this week including guinea pig, turtle, and monkey.  Yes, that soup has a monkey hand in it.

That inspired this email chain:

OH MY.  That is a Monkey hand.  Makes blood sausage look like the Jr. circuit. ~DAD*

Try kran. Makes both look like jr. circuits.  ~Justin

Yada-yada-yada. ~DAD

Yada yada this. ~Justin

Back at ya Elder.  Blood Sausage ain’t as dainty as you think… ~DAD

"Mine's bigger."  "No, mine's bigger."  Men.  Whatever. ~Mom

I’ll concede.  As a victory award, I’ve ordered a couple of these for Justin and Tyler.  They can use it to wash down the Kran and the Monkey paws. I’m done. Savages. ~DAD

 

 

*  Jeff served in Germany and did, in fact, get served blood sausages on his mission.

And a Little Child Shall Lead Them

Every year our church family puts on a Christmas party.  Sometimes it’s a formal dinner and program, sometimes it’s a visit to a nursing home, whatever.  It’s fun to get together.

This year, the cultural hall (i.e. basketball court) was decked out to resemble a town square in Bethlehem.  Bad picture but you can kind of get the idea. 

Oh and, we were supposed to come in period attire.  I was sure that would be a deal breaker for Jeff, but he was a good sport wearing his sheets and sashes.

The Young Men were Roman soldiers, charged with guarding stuff.  They gave them swords.

The temptation was just too great.

Families piled together on blankets on the ground to eat breakfast.  There were bodies strewn everywhere.

There was a program.  Families arrived at Bethlehem to be counted.  The script was cute and corny.  Sample line:  “My sister Anna makes great incense!  I don’t what makes Frank’s incense so special!”  And, as a family with 6 kids enters, “How long…?”, “Are we there yet…?”.  So, you get the gist.

Then a couple starts wending their way through the strewn bodies on the floor.  The husband keeps asking if there is room for them.  We know how the story goes so people keep telling him no.  But there is a hush and a reverence.

There is a small girl sitting near me in the center of the room.  She is about 5 years old.  About the 3rd or 4th time that someone tells Joseph “no”, she calls out loud and clear,

“We have room!” 

She is immediately embarrassed because there is a rumble of chuckles that goes through the room.

I am instantaneously brought to tears by the purity of the offer from this child.  So ready to be of service, to help someone in need and to make room for Christ.

I think I will remember that moment for a long time.  I pray that I may follow her example.

Afterlife for Ty’s Ties?

I just saw this wreath idea on a Good Housekeeping page of MSN.com…

Hmmm… I might have to remember this when all these ties come home in two years…

Of course, I may have to sneak them out of his room in the middle of the night.  He loves his ties!

This Did It.

I’ve been getting grief lately for my lack of blogging (from the two people who seem to check it!).  I’ve been too busy living life to muse and write.  But I do miss it, and I will be back.  However, something took me totally by surprise the other day and so it’s worth a mention.

We kicked our Tyler to the curb on Wednesday.  Literally.  That is the “rip off the bandaid” method for depositing a piece of your heart in the Lord’s hands for two years as they serve a mission somewhere in the world.  It’s pure genius.  OK, inspiration.  Really.  More on that later.

Anyway.

Tyler has been sorting his worldly goods.  What to pack, what to save, what to give and what to throw.

It looks kinda like this:

(I made those last two piles, can you tell?)

Justin is away at school so Bryce gets first dibs on the give or throw pile (and I caught him going through the save pile last night!!).  The very next day he chose to wear one of his acquisitions.

As he got into the car, I flashed through the years in an instant.

And.

I lost it.

Yep.

Big sobs.

Ugly cry.

Sheesh.

In fairness, this wasn’t just any old tshirt.  This was a sweatshirt that Tyler wore on nearly every day that wasn’t 90 degrees. For at least the last four years. 

Here is a picture of him wearing it in 2008:

Seriously, its identity IS Tyler.  Tyler even wondered if he shouldn’t hold on to it until he returned but I actually encouraged him to move on.  Lot’s wife yada yada.  It had given its all.

Little did I know it was going to come walking out of the house the next day.

Apparently, it has a little more to give.

Sally Dixon

Tyler’s teacher for the 3rd and 4th grades was a brilliant educator by the name of Sally Dixon, PhD.

She was the kind of teacher that really loves kids.  Individually and collectively.  She made a difference not only in Tyler’s life, but in our family’s as well.

A little background here.

Tyler struggled a bit in 1st grade.  Really good teacher.  Bad match for Tyler.  Tyler was not speedy.  He would come home with a lot of work he didn’t finish during the day that he would have to do with his homework each day.  He was a perfectionist.  His mind wandered.  He wasn’t keeping up.  He was frustrated.  I was frustrated.  There were a lot of long afternoons.  Teacher conferences were not reassuring.

I had settled in my mind that he just wasn’t going to be the kind of student that Justin was.  Everything came so easily for Justin.  I literally cried when Tyler’s first standardized tests came back and showed that he was actually quite gifted.  I had been fooled.  I hadn’t trusted in my own child and I had many regrets.

2nd grade was much better.  Different style of teacher and a much better fit.  Progress was made and we were all much happier.

But then he had Sally Dixon for the next 2 years.

Sally understood Tyler.  She taught me a new way to look at teaching him.  One size does not fit all.

Snippet from a Teacher’s Conference:

Dr. Dixon:  Tyler goes somewhere in his mind at times.  I can tell he’s just not with the rest of us.

Me:  (apologetically) I know!  We’re working on it!

Dr. Dixon:  Oh no!  He’s building rockets or inventing a new energy source or pondering life’s mysteries in there.  I don’t want to get in the way of that!

Teacher’s Conference the next year:

Dr. Dixon:  Something’s up with Tyler.  Is everything alright at home?  Any relationship issues?

Jeff and I look at each other.  We’re thinking about the question but unsure whether or not we should be offended. (She has a very direct way about her.) Then we think of something we’ve been semi-wondering/worrying about.  I say “semi” because we weren’t sure if it was ACTUALLY a problem or not.

Justin (oldest) had his own room at this point.  Tyler and Bryce (youngest) were sharing a room.  Bryce was in Kindergarten and randomly decided that he wanted to sleep in Justin’s room.  So he made himself a little bed of blankets in the corner of Justin’s room and slept there.  We thought it was funny and cute.  But then one night turned into two turned into a week, and before we knew it that seemed to be Bryce’s permanent bed.

After the conversation with Dr. Dixon we went home and we resolved to move all of the beds into one room.  Everyone would sleep together.  Apparently Tyler had been feeling badly about being left alone and making that change changed everything.

Those two years were a turning point for Tyler.  He found his confidence and his stride.  He never looked back.  I give Sally full credit.

Some may say that Sally was intuitive or perceptive.  To my way of thinking, she listened to the Spirit and the “still, small voice” and I know that she was a tender mercy in our lives for which I will be forever grateful. 

About the last quarter of Tyler’s 4th grade year, she had to leave due to a recurrence of cancer.  She never returned to full time teaching.

We have been blessed to call her a friend and we kept in touch through the years.  She taught some after school enrichment classes when she was feeling up to it, and she traveled as much as possible.  She was also a great humanitarian and contributed her considerable talents to many worthwhile organizations.

In 2011, she came to see her last class graduate from high school. We always thought we were her favorite, but now I strongly suspect everyone thought they were her favorite.  That’s just how she was. 

Sally passed away on August 16th at age 74 and today is her Celebration of Life.  I add this small, personal eulogy to the others that will be shared.  The world is diminished without her in it.

Brothers

When #1 son returned from serving the Lord in Mexico City for two years, we could not wait to see him.  We had exchanged emails each Monday for 104 weeks and Skyped exactly 4 times.  But who’s counting?  Suffice it to say, anticipation was at an all time high.

He did not push all others aside to seek first the woman who bore him.

He did not bypass that woman (ME!) to hug the father who so diligently wrote him Epistles (capitalization intentional) each week, supported his expenses, and loves him more than ice cream (ice cream is just one of the things that his father loves LESS than he).

NO. 

He walked right up and embraced #2 son.  His brother.

How could I feel bad about that? 

He’s loved him since he was born.

The Envelope Please…

It’s amazing to me that this little white envelope:

can hold the key to life—where will Tyler spend the next 2 years of his life?  These pivotal years where he will learn to rely on himself (he already does that really well—he hasn’t needed parents since he was about 9—except to drive him places and pay for stuff).  Even more, he will learn to rely on the Lord through moments of great joy and deepest despair.

These are the years which will develop his testimony and provide the foundation of experience upon which he will rely the rest of his life.  He will learn about service and sacrifice and demonstrate his love for the Lord.  All that we have is His, it’s really such a small portion to give back.

But, I’m feeling more like this:

I have spent the last 18 1/2 years trying to protect him and love him and teach him.  It has been my primary purpose in life and now it’s time to let go. 

I won’t lie, I don’t want to.

This is my service and sacrifice.