Twenty-five and Counting

During the past week, I have learned (relearned, really) to crochet and made three crocheted scrubbies to give as gifts; traveled several hours to visit my in-laws for Mother's Day; watched my son Adam run in the "Wellsville Mile"; woke up very early to attend the "Breakfast of Champions," where Elisabeth was honored for her academic achievements; went to the local junior high school to see my son Joseph perform the role of The Baker in the musical Into the Woods; made and served three different pies to the cast of a local Shakespeare Company (which includes my daughter Elisabeth); become the grandmother of a baby rabbit named Pancake; gone to the Cancer Center to receive a treatment; laughed hard as I watched my sons Danny and Ben perform in the comedy improv troupe Horsing Around; attended Joseph's guitar concert; got all dressed up and attended the high school academy awards ceremony (during which Danny and Ben received many awards); and prepared gifts and a cake for my daughter Hannah's birthday.

Somewhere in there, my husband and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary.

Wes and I were married on May 13th, 1988, in the Salt Lake City LDS Temple. We were poor college students, and looking back I can see that we were a bit foolish and naive. But we were deeply in love.

And we still are.


There is no question that I married the right man at the right time and in the right place. We have had our ups and downs: we've struggled with parenting, finances, and my health. Neither of us is perfect, but we make a great team.


This is for you, Wes:

To My Husband, Who is Well
So long we've been together, love,
My faithful Valentine,
That now at night I lie beside you
And your heart beats with mine.

And it seems to me it's your pure heart
That pumps blood through my veins,
And I believe it's your strong will
That bears my deepest pains.

And when I stretch my fingers out
To lay upon your chest,
I feel quite sure that your clear lungs
Fill my weak lungs with breath.

So here's what I have learned, my sweet,
In my struggle to survive,
Your strength overcomes my weakness,
And your love keeps me alive.

The doctors say I won't last long
But there's something they don't know:
As long as you are here beside me
I'll never, ever go.

For Susan

My dear friend Susan Turley passed away last night, holding her beloved husband's hand. After years of chronic health problems, she finally left her frail body behind and now lives freely.

Her physical problems never slowed down her generous heart. When I was first diagnosed with cancer, she visited me, served me, and somehow, made me laugh. She sneaked into my house while I was at chemotherapy and adorned my home with seasonal decorations. She had a great talent for making things beautiful.

Her husband, her children, and her little grandchildren were her most precious jewels. Throughout her life, she loved them immensely and intensely. I know she still does.

I wrote this poem, with great love, in Susan's honor:

It will not be for men to say
Which breath shall be my last.
We know that there will be a day
When death is coming fast
And men will stand around my bed
And wait to say "She's gone, she's dead!
She's left behind her earthly ties –"
But you must not believe these lies.

I am not gone, I'm living still –
I always have, I always will.
I'm sealed to those I love the most
And that means I will yet stay close.
Though now you might not see me here, I promise:

I am very near. 

Can It Really Be?

Is it possible that winter is finally ending?

I don't want to get my hopes up, because I've lived in this cold northern valley long enough to know that as soon as I put the coats and boots and sweaters and heavy blankets away and reach for the short-sleeved t-shirts, the weather fairies will turn on me and dump more snow in my yard. But still, it has to end sometime. Right? Right?

I do love the beauties of spring. Not everyone at my house shares my opinion, though:

Approaching Spring

She said, "Soon there'll be no snow,

The icy winds will cease to blow.

And mountain streams resume their flow

To fill our ditches here below.

Then flowers will begin to grow,

And trees their scented blossoms show,

As the bright sun warms us with its glow.

And oh, the places I will go,

And oh, what happiness I'll know!

He said, "Snow will soon be gone,

And then, I'll have to mow the lawn."