Love note from heaven

This afternoon I got the sweetest note in the mail.  The card wasn't signed, but I figured out that it was from a high school friend I haven't seen since graduation.  We reconnected on Facebook a while ago, and apparently she reads the things I post about my crazy real life both on Facebook and on my blog.  Her note was a tender mercy in my life.  Here's why.

Lately I have been sad and lonely.  I realize this is unjustified on so many levels (e.g. I am living the blessed life I have always wanted, and I know there are lots of people around me who love me), and yet the feelings are real. Some hard days are just hard days and I wake up the next day and move on.  Others, like that one day the other week, are harder to shake.  I have been having more of those kinds of days lately. I kind of can't believe I'm saying this out loud...

So the last few days have been especially rough.  I had kind of a bad morning on Saturday, so I decided to shake it off with a run outside.  Endorphins and sunshine are good, right?  I didn't get too far from home when the sidewalk began an ascent that my lungs didn't like.  As I trudged up the hill, with what seemed like gale-force wind blowing against me, I started to cry.  Have you ever tried to run and cry at the same time? Not super productive.  But I was pondering how running is a metaphor for life.  As I ran (I use that term loosely) up that hill, I lamented the mountains and opposition in my life that seem too hard. I set my sights on a light pole at the top of the hill and thought, "I can only go that far," which is exactly how I feel about my life right now.  I made it to that light pole and then staggered to a stop, lungs burning and tears flowing. I continued on in a stop-and-go pattern, usually stopping to walk because I was sobbing. (Valerie and Alexis, you drove by at one of those walking points...now you know.  Haha.)

After that I ran away (in a car) to the temple. It was one of those "Where can I turn for peace?" kind of days, and that's the only 100% guaranteed place of peace for me.  It was there that my desperate prayers started to be answered in ways that I could actually see.  After a lovely hour in the temple I walked to my car and ran into a wonderful friend.  It was pretty crazy to see her in the parking lot, since we're practically neighbors in Colorado Springs and the temple is an hour away.  We hugged and talked and cried a little, and then I had to get home.  As I drove I reflected on the way Heavenly Father placed Amy in my life...not just in that parking lot, but in this particular season of my life.  She is a ray of sunshine, and one of the few people with whom I can jump straight to a "real life" conversation and feel perfectly safe.

Sunday came next.  Oh, Sunday.  I'll say it out loud: I don't like Sundays.  I love my religion, and I love my ward, and I am 100% committed to the LDS way of life, but Sundays are hard.  It seems like everyone is grumpy most of the day.  The kids are crazy during sacrament meeting (my boys were actually punching each other during the last speaker's remarks) so it's hard to listen and feel anything spiritual.  I know some people adore their Primary callings, but I am struggling with the fact that the Primary room is too much like my bench in sacrament meeting, with the same net effect for me.  How's that for real?  Ha.  Sundays used to be my re-charge days, but now they are just as draining as the rest of them.

So last night I was lamenting the things I don't like about my life. I have a special talent for focusing on the negative.  It was kind of late (10-ish) and I was hiding in Kate's bedroom.  She had had a hard time getting to sleep (late nap for the fail) so I held her until she nodded off, and then just stayed with her.  And moped and cried, because I'm a 34-year-old baby.  At the exact moment that I felt like the most insignificant, invisible person in the whole world, my friend April sent me a text: "How are you?"  Another answered prayer.  Someone cared.

And then Lori's note showed up in my mailbox today.  She told me she wrote it months ago, but it arrived today, when I was feeling vulnerable and alone.  Heavenly Father is trying to tell me something: I matter.  My keys matter.  The things I feel matter.  My small spot in the world matters.  My mere existence matters. Yes, life is hard.  Yes, I've had some setbacks and disappointments lately.  Yes, there are times when I feel very alone.  I really don't know what any of it means, except that I'm not alone, even when I don't receive that miracle text, even when people around me don't understand, even when I'm frustrated about seemingly impossible mountains I have to climb.

So what's the moral of this story?  I'm sure there are lots of people out there who feel like I do, either all of the time or some of the time.  Maybe to you, their problems don't seem very significant, or maybe they do.  Maybe they look like they have it all together, but I promise you they don't feel like they have it all together. Regardless of your perceptions, regardless of your own insecurities, if you've been thinking about someone, call or email or text or write or whatever you can do to reach out.  Be present for someone who needs a friend.  Follow your gut when you feel like you should do something for someone.  It might be way out of your comfort zone to reach out.  Your efforts might not always be life changing.  But sometimes, when you write a note and don't mail it for three months, it might show up in the mailbox at the perfect time and allow that person to see the hand of God in her life.

Oh, Kate...

"Don't look at me, Mommy."

This is what she says as she stands naked behind me, covering her privates with one hand and her eyes with the other.

This is what she says several times a day after she takes off her poopy diaper somewhere in the house and attempts to clean up the mess.

This is what she says after she raids the purple nail polish for the umpeenth time and drips it across the wood floor, the granite counter tops, her back, and her face.

This is what she says after she drenches herself with milk, thus soiling the fourth outfit of the day.

This is what she says after "nap" time, during which she empties all of her drawers and her toys, then pushes her mattress to the floor and strips it of sheets.  And then strips off her clothing, just because.

And this, my friends, is what Hurrican Kate looks like, in a frog costume, approximately three seconds after we start driving.  Being two must be utterly exhausting for this child.

I definitely yelled a few times today, and she definitely spent more than a few minutes in time-out today.  But there were also many moments today when I reflected on the nightmare that was my pregnancy with her, and then remembered what a gift of a child she is.  How lucky I am that we have this time together after such a treacherous beginning.  So then I look at her in her various disheveled states, and then hug her and kiss her and tell her I love her.

And then I get her dressed.  Again.

Ah, Thanksgiving

It's just us this year: seven little people celebrating Thanksgiving in a cozy house in Colorado Springs.  We have had such a nice, quiet day.  My Thanksgiving goals: stay in my sweats all day, eat lots of pie, and catch up on my blog. Check, check, check!

This morning Garry and Zach went to our ward's Turkey Bowl, an annual flag football game.  Zach earned the MVP award for his "gorilla glue" hands that caught every pass. Garry was glad that Zach was his first draft pick.  They had tons of fun.

Yesterday I made homemade stuffing and crescent rolls from tried-and-true family recipes.  I also tried new recipes for pie crust, sour cream lemon pie, and banana cream pie.  They were all fantastic!  Today we cooked a turkey breast in our long-neglected rotisserie grill. Garry's marinade and butter rub made it the most finger-lickin-good turkey I've ever had. Garry's mashed potatoes and gravy did not disappoint either. I brought out a fancy tablecloth (Lexi: "What's that thing on the table?") and our crystal goblets for the feast.

Before we ate, I wanted to take a family picture.  We couldn't find charged batteries for our camera with a timer, so we opted for a cell phone shot of just the kids.  I made the mistake of asking Lexi to un-tuck her shirt from her clashing skirt.  She burst into tears.  Dinner was getting cold, so this is our family portrait for the day.  Excellent!

As we ate, we discussed our blessings, especially those we take for granted.  Thanksgiving will close with the Ravens vs. Steelers football game on TV and some family together time. Being together is pretty high on my gratitude list.  Happy Thanksgiving!

No hands!

A couple of weeks ago, when the Beehives were in charge of a joint activity (all youth from 12-18, about 40 youth and their leaders), we put together an "I can do hard things" experience.  We were inspired by a video I found online (see below) about a teenage girl who was born with no arms.  Despite her disability she can function just about like a normal teenager.  I'm especially impressed with her ability to put in contact lenses, participate on the cheer squad, and drive!

For our activity, we encouraged the youth to try to use their feet for several everyday tasks.  We had stations for writing and painting and opening a combination lock; dressing, brushing teeth, and shooting a basketball; and texting, setting a table, and making a peanut butter sandwich.  The results were quite funny, but also pretty sobering! 

We closed with a video a man with no arms and no legs.  (The one below is different but more comprehensive.) He is absolutely incredible, and has an inspiring message for people around the world.  Hopefully the youth went home with a greater sense of gratitude for their capable bodies. 

Zach watched me prepare for the event and was quite intrigued.  Since he is required to teach several Family Home Evening lessons in order to earn the Family Life merit badge, he asked to do a "no hands" activity for our latest FHE.  They chose some of the non-messy activities: writing, opening a lock, combing hair, and brushing teeth. I had to attend a youth fireside at the time of our family's activity, but Garry reported that it was a success.  And of course he documented it for me.

 

I'm definitely grateful for a body that functions normally.  It's something I often take for granted, but these activities have certainly heightened my awareness of my blessings.

My oldest friend

I am lucky enough to visit teach a true gem.  Her name is Barbara, and she is 85.  In addition to our official monthly visits, I call Barbara and pop over to see her occasionally. Barbara is spunky, witty, wise, and in all ways delightful.  She struggles to hear and to move around, but that doesn't stop us from having great conversation.  Today we had a date to play Phase 10 at her kitchen table.  It came down to the last hand, but Barbara won the game.  Even so, she wasn't thrilled about posing for a picture.

It's tough for me to get away from my house and responsibilities long enough to enjoy afternoons like this, but if I had my way, I'd spend most afternoons with Barbara, playing cards, sucking on lollipops, and laughing until our sides hurt.  She's the best.

All I want for Christmas

The children made Christmas wish lists the other day.  You know, because our family can't just be grateful for abundant blessings...we have to think of more that we want.  This is the spirit of the holiday season, right? [Insert a big fat groan and copious rolling of eyes.]

Anyway.

Gavin's list is utterly fantastic, not only because he wrote it all by himself, but because of what's on his list.  Can you interpret?

Translation:

Drums

Guitar

mp3 player

My own room

Spoiled much?  We encouraged Gavin to think of some more realistic requests.  P.S. Gavin already has his own bedroom.

Zachary's list was equally outrageous, but his handwriting and spelling weren't nearly so entertaining, so I will just type it up.  He began thus:

Cell phone

Dog

X-box 360

My own b-room (I assume he's not talking about a bathroom)

iPad

Go to Mountain Ridge (a middle school)

New/fixed Wii

Contacts

$$$$$

Snowboard trip

Zach informed us that the first three items are permanently on his wish list until he receives them.  Apparently ALL of his 11-year-old friends have phones and dogs.  Zach did put some reasonable items on his wish list, and he may actually get some of them.  But he will not receive a cell phone or a dog this Christmas.

Tyler made a pretty reasonable wish list (i.e. affordable items I would allow in the house), although his included some of Zach's wishes, too.  Here are the funniest items on Tyler's list:

Hot breakfast

Pool

New bedroom

Fun

How sad is it that "hot breakfast" made the list?  And what's the deal with new bedrooms, anyway?  I'm not gonna lie--I'd love a new bedspread and fresh paint and less/different furniture in my room. But I don't think that's what these silly boys are talking about.

The girls did not make lists, although when a toy catalog came in the mail recently, Lexi circled every single girly item in the whole magazine, indicating that whatever Santa brings her will be fabulous.  I'm a little surprised at how much I enjoy shopping for little girls, being decidedly un-girly myself.

What's on my wish list?  It turns out that mine is as unreasonable as Zach's list:

World  family peace

A cook and massage therapist on retainer

12 hours of sleep every night

Calorie-free baked goods 

Having my van detailed weekly

Like Zach, those first three are permanently on my wish list.  I think I'd better focus on what I have, rather than what I want.  Then I'll never be disappointed.

Stoned {a novel}

At the end of my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, my friends April and Elizabeth showed up on my doorstep with ice cream, Oreos, and the gift of their companionship.  We laughed and cried and relaxed in the comfort of home (so I could wear pajamas) and I went to bed at 10:30 with a smile on my face.

Four hours later, though, my smile was gone.  I woke up at 2:30 a.m. with pain in the left side of my lower back.  Initially I thought it was a muscle spasm or a pinched nerve, but I couldn't find a comfortable position or stretch in the right way, and the pain kept getting worse.  It wrapped around to my abdomen and the intense ache became cramping and searing pain.  I tried lying on a hot pad, which helped, but not enough.  By about 3:30 I was throwing up and crying.  I hurt so much.  Actually, I was sobbing on the bathroom floor, resting my head on the open (and very dirty) toilet so I didn't have to move my head very much to throw up.  Garry sat with me, his hand on my back for moral support.  He kept asking if I wanted to go to the hospital, but I refused.

I was having vivid flashbacks to the night before I was admitted to the hospital for my PICC line infection 20 months ago.  I was 13 weeks pregnant with Kate.  I was sent home from the ER with "the flu."  The next 36 hours were horrific as my fever spiked, my pain intensified, and I vomited relentlessly.  It wasn't until my temperature was nearly 104 (because a blood infection was raging) that I went back to the hospital and the ER docs took me seriously.  By that time I was so sick that I nearly died.

So even though I was in agony two nights ago, I did NOT want to go back to that place. The memories haunted me.  I couldn't face it.  Somehow I thought that the triage nurse would turn me away.  Or that I'd have to stay indefinitely.  I think I had a panic attack in the middle of my pain attack. It was crazy.

Then "call Karla" popped into my head.  Karla.  She's a gift of a friend, someone who happily came into my life when she moved here in February.  We had an instant connection, I became her visiting teacher, and now we get to work together with the young women in our ward.  I knew she would come and stay with the kids so I wouldn't have to go to the ER alone.  Once Garry called her (and of course she jumped out of bed and drove over immediately), some of my panic receded, I got control of my emotions, and I agreed to go to the hospital.

The ER was deserted.  Garry helped me hobble into the waiting room (I could barely walk, and was bent at a 90 degree angle).  Someone got a wheelchair for me.  I curled up in a little ball and flashed back to the morning Garry wheeled me into that same room 20 months ago.  The similarities were unsettling.  Thankfully, a doctor saw me immediately and a crowd of people attended to my needs.

Within a few minutes a nurse tried to start an IV.  I'm a hard stick.  My veins are crappy. She tried to get the line going three [verrrry slow] times, and the attempts were so painful. Finally the fluids--and the meds--started flowing.  Once the Morphine and the Zofran hit my system, I began to return to reality.  I could think and speak and open my eyes and hold still.  The world took on color again.  It was like an epidural taking effect after being in the throes of hard labor.  It was a miracle.

Why do I feel compelled to take pictures of my IVs?

Hanging out with my "knight in dirty old car."

A CT scan revealed a 4-5mm kidney stone.  I had classic symptoms, but I was oddly euphoric that my pain had a cause and a cure.  It was classified as a large stone, on the borderline between passable and surgical.  I had a kidney stone eight years ago, so of course I had considered the possibility that my pain originated there this time, but I was so relieved with the diagnosis.

This is my super-sarcastic, life-is-so-much-fun smile.  Note how red my eyes are from crying.

For me, the pain truly rivals natural childbirth--the moment when the baby is crowning and everything is on fire and the world is black.  It's really that exquisite.  The difference with kidney stones is that there isn't a beautiful bundle of joy at the end.  At least the pain stops.

Anyway.

Armed with a diagnosis, some drugs, and my CT scan on disc, I was discharged.  At 8:00 a.m. I made an appointment with a local urologist.  He could see me at 10:30.  I got in bed and starting texting friends to make arrangements for my little kids for the day. Amazingly, the first three people I asked were willing and able.  Such a blessing!  Garry got everyone ready for school and began delivering children to their various destinations.  He had just enough time for a quick shower before transferring Zach from the middle school to the elementary school, and then he went to work. He is almost out of vacation days for the year, and I want him home for Christmas, and I knew my friends would take care of me.  And they literally did, all day long.

My dear friend Melanie drove me to see the urologist.  I was pretty loopy, partly from my pain meds and partly from having been up half the night and purging my body of all nutrients.  She helped me walk and fill out forms and talk to the doctor.  Her nursing career and alert brain and witty personality made the visit so great (and kind of hilarious). Dr. Moody said the kidney stone was actually 6 mm.  After explaining things, he said I had a 5% chance of passing the stone on my own, and I'd be miserable and/or drugged up the whole time.  He strongly recommended surgery.  We scheduled for 7 a.m. the next day.

Having taken another dose of pain meds, I was really goofy and nauseated on the way out of the doctor's office.  Instead of leaving me in my empty house, Melanie took me to her house and tucked me into her guest bed.  She brought me tissues when I had a breakdown, and she fed me chicken noodle soup, and she sat on the couch and talked to me all afternoon.  Elizabeth visited, too!  It was so lovely to have someone take care of ME like that. Thanks, friends. :)

Melanie and Karla brought dinner for my family.  Garry rounded up the kids from Ashley, Jenny, and Desi.  He picked up my meds from the pharmacy (total cost for four prescriptions: $1.16!).  We all went to bed early and slept soundly.  Hooray for that.

This morning, another friend, Jennie, picked me up just before six and took me to the surgical center.  Garry stayed home to do the morning routine with the kids (it's complicated and pretty hard to hand off to someone else). Jennie got to be up close and personal with all my meds and health history as the nurses prepared me for surgery.  It was nice to have a good friend along for that!  I'm so glad I wasn't alone...and that she didn't take pictures of me in all of my early-morning, about-to-have-surgery glory.

Only 15 minutes passed between the time I walked toward the OR and when Dr. Moody showed up in the waiting room to tell Jennie that the surgery was successful. Hooray! Jennie took me home and tucked me into bed just as Garry left to deliver the non-school kids to their homes for the day.  I slept.  Later Jennie delivered my new prescriptions ($0.86 for three).

The rest of the day has been quiet and restful.  My pain and nausea are receding.  I have slept and watched a movie and talked on the phone in a perfectly quiet house.  Ashley, Audra, April, and Becky took care of the Littles all day long.  Garry worked at home so he could attend to my needs, hold my hand, and fetch my food. Julee is bringing dinner for my family in a few minutes. Hopefully the insanity of this week will soon be a distant memory.

And, best of all, my mom is coming to town tonight!  We planned her visit for this weekend way back in September.  The timing now is wonderful.  I hope I'll continue to improve and be well enough to enjoy our time together.

Crossing the finish line (plus a giveaway!)

Remember when I got all excited about the Rim-to-Rim 10k in October?  Since I registered in August, every time I hit the treadmill or ran outside I visualized being in the race and, most importantly, crossing the finish line.  I was excited about reaching the goal I set for myself in January.  Back then I couldn't run for three minutes straight, but now I can run for an hour without stopping.  I'm really slow (mostly 11-minute miles; my high-school self is stunned), but I have built some endurance this year.  Well, due to last-minute circumstances beyond my control, I wasn't able to run the race as planned on October 6.  I was devastated.  I had worked so hard to reach my goal and didn't reach it.

After mourning my loss for a while, I decided to run a 10k anyway, race day fanfare or not. This week I plotted a 6.2-mile course on a map around my neighborhood.  I marked clear starting and finish lines, and even set a start time: 7:00 a.m. on Saturday, October 20.  I started visualizing my solo race: concrete sidewalks, hills, stop lights, and all.  Even though the last three weeks have not been stellar in my personal health and fitness realm, I hoped I could still complete my run and meet my goal.

And so, this morning, I woke up early.  I ate oatmeal and read my scriptures in the quiet kitchen.  I loved that I opened to Mosiah 4 and read, "...it is not requisite that a man should run faster than he has strength.  And again, it is expedient that he should be diligent, that thereby he might win the prize."  How appropriate! Then I brushed my teeth and slipped quietly out the door.  I jogged to my starting point (the SW corner of Research and Rangewood, in case you locals are interested), stretched for a few minutes, and with a deep breath and a click of my stopwatch, headed south on my first leg of the journey.

I ran unplugged--no phone, no music, no camera--and it was awesome.  I loved being alone with my thoughts and my breath and my stride.  The first three miles were great.  I made good time and felt strong.  But during a long hill on Lexington I hit the proverbial wall.  It kind of felt like the last couple of years.  I just couldn't do it anymore.  So I walked briefly to catch my breath and pressed on.

Reaching the corner of Briargate Parkway and Union (heading east) felt like a great milestone.  With only about 1.5 miles to go, I knew I could go the distance.  Just as I was ready to cross the street, Garry drove by in the van and cheered me on.  That was a pleasant surprise!  I had planned for this to be a solo journey, but the support was wonderful.  Garry followed me past the YMCA, shouting encouragement and taking a couple of pictures.

I was grateful for the downhill slope on Rangewood.  It helped me gather my courage for the last half mile.  At that point I was really fighting my sore muscles and tired feet and over-worked lungs.  I turned east on Research for my final stretch.  I had forgotten about the dip in the road...and the hill at the very end of my run.  I tried to pick up speed during the dip so I could power up the hill to the finish line.

That's when I saw I wasn't alone.  Waiting at the corner of Research and Austin Bluffs were Garry, Lexi, Kate, and a group of my friends!  They were yelling and cheering and taking pictures.  Two kids held a crepe paper finish line.  I was overcome with emotion and cried as I approached them.  Breaking through the crepe paper, surrounded by people I love, felt amazing. Not only did I reach my goal--in 1:07:18, which thrilled me--but I wasn't alone.  It was a very symbolic moment for me.

We all stood on the corner for a while as I tried to recover.  I laughed and cried and hugged everyone who came.  We took pictures (I'll post more when I get them from everyone), and I basked in the warm glow of friendship.  I couldn't get over the feeling of celebrating my success with my family and friends.  Victory was so much sweeter than I ever imagined.

Kym, me, Amie, Elizabeth, and April

......

To celebrate my personal victory, I'm sponsoring a little giveaway.  Leave a comment here or on my Facebook link to this post for a chance to win some fun fitness-themed goodies. I'll draw a winner on Monday, October 22.

Hooray for running!

Heidi: One Year Later

Kate's birthday is a huge milestone in my life as well as hers.  I am thrilled about all of the happy benchmarks Kate has hit in the last twelve months, but every month since her birth has marked my progress, too.  On this day I am reflecting on lessons learned, insights gained, and challenges conquered in the time since we found out Kate was on her way.

I'm sure that the difficult pregnancy will be gauge in my life for many years to come.  ("Is this harder than that?") I am still traumatized by it.  The other day I spent some time talking to a friend currently experiencing severe morning sickness.  I cried on and off for the rest of the day.  That was clearly an extreme response, and I am working on moving past last year's haunting memories.  But I am a stronger person for walking that road, even if I would never have chosen it.

That said, it's easy for me to see the great strides I have made in the last year.  Almost daily, I think to myself, "There is NO WAY I could have done that a year ago," even if that something is relatively basic, like vacuuming the family room or waking up before 8:00 a.m. or carrying two crying kids up the stairs.  I can take care of my family, serve in the church, throw a party, and help a friend--sometimes all in the same day.  I do NOT "have it all together," I am NOT Superwoman, and I still have more bad days than I would like. But I am feeling better and getting stronger, bit by bit, and day by day.  I am glad to be finding myself again.

In January, when I committed to improving my physical health, I set my sights on running a 10K this fall. Of course I hoped that a race date would help me get into shape, and it has.  My wedding ring finally fits again.  As of this morning, I'm two pounds away from losing my "Kate weight," which totaled 50 pounds.  I still hope to shed another 30 (my "Ty/Gav/Lex weight"). On Friday at the YMCA I completed a 10K training workout, which was a five-minute warm-up followed by a 17-minute run, a 1-minute walk,  a 17-minute run, a 1-minute walk,  a 17-minute run,  and a five-minute cool-down walk.  I traveled 5.1 miles in 62 minutes, and I was sure tired by the end!  But I'm thrilled that my body could do what I asked it to do that morning.

More than a physical training goal, committing to a 10K was a way to reclaim the true me: the Heidi  that feels most like herself when she is running.  It has been a long year and a tough battle (in January I couldn't run for three minutes straight), but I am finally finding that girl again.  The best part is that I am starting to feel like myself in places besides the gym or the treadmill.  My {super slow} mile time doesn't matter nearly as much as how I feel when I've accomplished something hard, or finished a task I didn't want to start.  I've learned that just showing up to attempt the difficult thing--in any part of my life--is lots more important than what I look like at the finish line.

I'm planning to run that 10K on October 6.  In fact, I registered for the race this morning. Just doing that much felt amazing.  I think the real Heidi is finally coming back...and I'm really glad to be here.

So grateful!

We just received some fantastic news.  Gavin has been accepted to the District 20 preschool program for the 2012-2013 school year!  This a wonderful answer to prayer, and we couldn't be happier.  We are certain that this is where Gavin needs to be as he prepares for kindergarten.  We are so grateful he has another opportunity to thrive in the district's amazing program.  

I am also quite pleased that Gavin was placed in another morning class, which isn't typical for Pre-K kids.  But this schedule means that twice a week, while Lexi is in preschool, Kate and I will have 2.5 hours just to ourselves.

God is good!

The gift of friendship

While in Mesa I had two awesome lunch dates with friends.

First I gathered with some friends from high school.  Heather, Julie, Erica, Christa, and I seemed to pick up right where we left off 16 years ago (man, we are old!).  We laughed and laughed and laughed, especially after Chad joined us near the end of lunch.  He took the picture below.  We all had such a good time together!

I also met with dear Melanie a couple of times.  We stood in the blazing heat to take a crazy picture that didn't turn out very well, but that doesn't taint my fond recollections of our lunch, which wasn't nearly long enough, or her daughter's wedding the weekend prior.  Getting my "Melanie fix" a couple times a year doesn't come close to satisfying my need, but I'm so glad she moved to my hometown so periodic visits are possible.

I am truly blessed with wonderful friends.

Fire update

Everyone who has heard about my parents' house fire last week seems to be clamoring for details, so here is an update.

My parents have excellent homeowners insurance and are well-covered for an event like this, but the restoration process is still staggering.  Two restoration companies (one provided by the insurance company and one called in by my parents) have assessed the damage and provided estimates called "the scope of work."  This covers reconstructing areas of the home damaged by fire, water and smoke, as well as restoring smoke-damaged personal belongings.  The contractors have taken measurements, crawled around the attic, and evaluated many things, both inside and outside the home.

Although the fire itself was contained to a fairly small area, it seems that smoke and water damage are extensive.  Both estimates call for completely reconstructing the three bedrooms upstairs, and possibly the ceilings in the rooms below them.  The insulation in the attic will be replaced.  Parts of the roof will be replaced.  The carpet will be thoroughly cleaned or completely replaced.  The entire inside (and part of the outside) of the house will be painted.  

Reconstruction is probably the least complicated part of the restoration.  Cleaning all of the belongings is a time-intensive, complicated process.  The insurance company will send people to photograph, inventory, and pack every single item in the house. Workers will account for every spool of thread, every can of food, every book, every shoe, every earring, every DVD, every instrument, every piece of electronic equipment--and everything else!  They will then take all of the belongings to a warehouse for assessment and special cleaning.  They will determine whether the expense of cleaning exceeds the value of the item, and either clean and return it or give a "replacement value" financial settlement.  They will keep items like electronics and the piano in climate-controlled storage until the house is ready to be occupied again.

At the moment, my parents are trying to decide which of the restoration contractors to use.  The bids didn't determine a clear-cut winner, so they are carefully weighing their options.  Once they choose a contractor, things like a timeline and details on permanent housing will emerge.  One contractor's reconstruction estimate was six to eight weeks. The other estimated four to six months.  Friends who have had restoration work done suggest adding a month or two to any estimate.  My mom says she'll be glad to be back her house by Christmas, which seems so far away!

Neil and Andrea Jones on my parents' street were kind enough to host us from the time of the fire until Friday afternoon.  They were so gracious and accommodating and made our stay so comfortable.  Ryan, my brother, had planned to move out of my parents' home in a few weeks, so he accelerated that effort and moved to his new apartment on Monday night.  After I left on Friday, Mom, Dad, and Holly moved to a Residence Inn (paid for by insurance), which they say is quite comfortable.  It has two bedrooms and two bathrooms, a living area, and a small kitchen.  They will stay there for a week, which should allow time to choose a contractor, develop a timeline, and find some long-term housing.  They are hoping for a vacation home close to their house so that they can monitor construction progress and maintain the yard through the hot summer.  

While I was in town, I was so moved by the outpouring of service and generosity towards my family.  Often it was the little details--like the pitcher of water Andrea provided in the fire's aftermath--that meant so much.  Colleen Shumway loaned me contact cleaning solution when my eyes were burning Sunday night and I couldn't get my own solution out of the house.  Mom is scheduled to attend stake girls camp on Tuesday and was talking to a friend about needing to borrow camping supplies.  She said, "I don't even have a pillow!" The next morning, four brand-new pillows and pillow cases showed up on the Jones's porch.  The McKay family provided dinner at their home twice, loaned blankets for saving seats at Holly's graduation, and washed laundry.  The Shumways fed us and washed laundry, too.  Eric, my brother, and his wife did literal mountains of our laundry, and Eric ironed an unbelievable number of shirts for Dad and Ryan.  Many people dropped off wonderful gifts for Holly, and Andrea decorated her room with graduation signs.  It was a big week for my little sister, and those things eased the upheaval.  I am probably forgetting some of the angels who helped us, but all of us were so grateful for their service.

My parents are amazing.  They have been unbelievably positive, happy, and cheerful.  In a very stressful, life-altering situation, they have been calm.  They have always said that life is not about the things you collect; it is about the people you love.  Over the last week, Mom and Dad have said many times that they have their family, and if they lost everything else, they'd be okay.  They are certainly acting on their beliefs and demonstrating great faith that things will all work out.  I feel so blessed by their incredible example.

On behalf of my family, I extend many thanks to those of you who are praying for the Dixons.  Thank you for your love and concern and support.  All is well.

Fire!

Sunday morning began approximately one hour after Saturday ended.  It started with Holly rousing me from sleep and shouting, "Wake up!  The house is on fire!  We need to get out of here!"

WHAT?!?!

When my brain finally caught up with my feet, six fire engines were on the street in front of my parents' house.  Half a dozen firefighters in full gear were running to the scene.  A huge hose was spraying water at the garage.  Dad stood next to me, running his hands through his hair, staring bleakly at the home where he had raised his family for the last 21 years.

The street was full of fire trucks.

Dad told the firefighters what started the fire.

The entire scene was surreal.  It was 1:00 a.m.  My parents and brother and sister and I were in our pajamas, standing on the street in bare feet, watching the firefighters do their work.  We watched as they walked into the house with pick-axes.  We stared as the ceiling of the garage fell in a shower of sheet rock, foam, and plaster.  We couldn't believe that the house was actually on fire.

As we stood on the neighbor's lawn, details of the fire began to emerge.  Around 12:30 a.m., Ryan and Holly were watching TV in the family room downstairs.  Dad and I had gone to bed around 11:00 p.m.  My mom retired shortly after midnight.  We were all especially tired that night, having spent the day preparing for and hosting a wedding reception in the backyard.  It was a glorious event (post to come), but needless to say, we'd all earned some sleep that night.  Mom, however, was restless.  Eventually she got out of bed, set on taking some Tylenol to soothe her aching feet and legs.  That's when she smelled something burning.

She went upstairs to investigate and found smoke in two of the rooms and hallway.  She quickly went back downstairs and woke Dad.  They ran back up together and found smoke pouring out of an outlet in Holly's room, which is just above the garage.  Dad immediately knew that the fire was in the attic.  While Mom called 911, Dad ran into the garage and discharged two fire extinguishers into the attic entrance.  As Mom walked out the front door, Ryan (23) and Holly (18) went outside with her.  Just as Dad emerged, they all noticed flames coming from the top of the garage door.  Ryan and Dad used a hose to douse those flames.  Holly ran back inside, this time through smoke, to pull me out of bed.  I had the presence of mind to grab my purse.

Then the fire engines came--all six of them.  They quickly got to work, and though it seemed to us that the fire was out immediately, they worked for some time before declaring the fire contained.  Meanwhile, we walked to the nearest neighbor's house, where a group of concerned neighbors was congregated.  A firefighter treated Holly for smoke inhalation.  Eric (another brother) showed up to help and support.  Neighbors offered jackets and shoes.  Eventually one firefighter went into the house and retrieved our cell phones and flip flops.

Several firefighters were inside, too.

Holly received an oxygen treatment on the neighbor's lawn.

Mom and Dad talking to a firefighter about the damage.

The last fire truck on the scene.

When things calmed down, the firemen took off their gear.

Eventually a firefighter briefed Mom and Dad on the damage.  The fire had started with an outdoor light fixture above the garage.  It had apparently been smoldering for some time.  The firefighter said that Dad's quick action with the fire extinguishers saved the house from burning to the ground.  Five more minutes and the roof would have been aflame, and little could have been done to save it.  As it was, Holly's bedroom, as well as the attic and garage below, sustained structural damage.  The entire house was full of acrid smoke.  The firefighters had cut the power immediately upon arrival, and a man from the city's electrical company had also come and removed the electricity meter from the house.  The home was declared uninhabitable.

The garage was full of foam and water and lots of damaged property.

Another view of the garage.

Foam dripping from the burned eaves above the garage door.

Collecting belongings from the house.

Around 3:00 a.m., the firefighters left.  Dad, Mom, Holly, Ryan, Eric, and I went inside to collect a few belongings, none of which were damaged, aside from the terrible smoky smell that permeated everything.  We picked up computers and cameras and toiletries and shoes and some clothes to wear to church later on.  We had many offers for places to stay, but we ended up at the bishop's house down the street.  I was the first to go to sleep for what was left of the night (around 3:30), but the rest were awake for at least another hour, just processing the experience and working out details.

Before I woke up at 8:00 a.m., a neighbor had picked up our church clothes (including slips, socks, and underwear) and taken them home to wash.  They were ready in time for us to attend church at 11:00 a.m.  Eric and another neighbor were washing enough clothing to get us through the week.  So many neighbors offered food and beds and helping hands.  It was really quite touching.  And people at church offered more of the same.

We spent some time in the house picking up a few more things--sunglasses, prescriptions, cell phone charging cables, and other random things--and also watered plants and the grass, since the sprinkler system was no longer functional.  I took the opportunity to snap a few photos, too.

The charred eaves.

A view of the garage and the damaged eaves.

One of the fire extinguishers Dad used in the attic.

Some of the damage in Holly's room.

More of Holly's room.

FIRE LINE: DO NOT CROSS

A view of the garage ceiling from below.

The Sunday paper still showed up.

This must have been the time that the firemen cut the electricity.

A fine layer of smoke dust covers everything in the house.

This afternoon Dad called the insurance company and started making a plan for damage assessment and repair.  Mom and Dad have good insurance and eventually things with the house will be restored.  However, we have all been deeply grateful for a loving God who was watching over things far more important than a physical home.  We are so grateful for the guardian angels who kept Mom awake, and for the ones who directed Dad to spray in the attic.  We are thankful we all escaped the house without injury.  We are thankful for the firefighters who responded so quickly, worked so ably, and attended to our needs so compassionately.  I am so grateful that my children are safe and sound in Colorado and were spared the trauma of this experience.  And of course we are thankful to the charitable souls around us who have pledged unlimited service at this time of crisis.

In a few days I will return to Colorado.  I'm sad I won't be here to help clean up the aftermath.  But I'm so glad to know that my family has each other, no matter the physical distance that separates us.  That's all that really matters.