Too Legit to Quit.

Just mailed this little guy a package to Guatemala.
A special birthday package.
It will be his 21st birthday.
(obviously this is not the most recent picture of him but one of my favorites.)
To most young men his age, it is a huge milestone.
He is legal
Legit in every way.
His drivers license, if he were here to spend the 3 to 4 hours waiting in line at the DMV,
would be changed from vertical to
horizontal.
I would be thinking about planning a big party
maybe a surprise party...
(he would hate the big fuss)
He might want the latest technology....
something with all the bells and whistles...
that would exceed my financial comfort level
but with his patient sweet persistence he might prevail.
And I would hug him....
A LOT.
And he might make a face or two but he would be patient with his silly mom because he is Jack.
But not this time
Instead I mailed a box.
Inside it was:
60 dark Hersheys Dark Chocolate Bars; enough to eat one each day from Monday through Friday and have just enough for him to share the last one with me in September. (I would have bought more, one for each day but I cleaned out my local grocery store. I think the checker was judging me for it too.)
1 leather belt that can switch from black to brown.
6 pairs of black dress socks with colorful toe and heel inset so that maybe he won't lose them as fast.
1 jar of dark cocoa powder almonds.
1 medium Tshirt that said 'Texas Pride; The Lone Star State" and has a detailed map of Texas as the background. A shirt that he would never wear here in the states. He might not in Guatemala either.
1 bag of Hershey dark chocolate pieces and
As much love as I could cram into a flat rate mailer.
The value of the presents inside: about 50 dollars.
The cost to mail it to Guatemala: 53 dollars
Not your typical presents for a 21 year old male.
So on that special day in July.....
there will be no parties or fancy gifts
no balloons or birthday cakes
and there will be nothing in his behavior to suggest the change from young man
to legal adult.
He will spend the day quietly serving the people of Guatemala
bearing testimony of Jesus Christ to anyone who will listen.
I could not be prouder...
(and I will get that hug 84 days after my baby boy turns 21)

Refueling...

Hello friends...
Did you notice I have been missing again?
Bloggone it!
I have sat down at least a dozen times this month with the intent of blogging
and ended up playing a rousing round of hearts instead.
Curiously though I have had a lot to post about.
But I was waiting for the perfect post.
You know the one.
The post that flows so quickly and freely it is as if
It writes itself.
Obviously that has not happened.
But one of your comments brought me back to my senses.
It was a comment written in Chinese.
I seem to get a few Chinese comments now and then.
Some of them seem like they are just from those hacker type programs that
just want to mislead you.
Some of them read like the fortunes from a cookie.
But every once in awhile there is one that makes me think that they read my blog and liked it.
How can I read them you ask?
(well that's a fine question)
I google translate them...every one of them.
I have an insatiable need to read and words whether Chinese characters or American letters are
food.
I don't think that the Google translation is a very good one because they always come out sounding a little strange like the dwarf on the show Twin Peaks who spoke backwards.
I don't blame my Chinese reader.
I know that if I spoke their language it would make perfect sense.
Still I try and figure out what they meant to say to me.
The one this week said,
一定要保持最佳狀況呦，加油!!!期待你發表的新文章！
which roughly translated (and I do mean roughly):
Must maintain this level of Yo, refueling!!! Look forward to your new article published!
I don't know what level of Yo I am on but,
I took this to mean that they wanted to read more.
I didn't need to wait for the perfect post
And they knew that my lapse in blogging was nothing more than my
refueling.
I like the idea of refueling
as opposed to my label for it; laziness.
So thank you reader who speaks Chinese.
You helped me refuel.
I am not sure if my blog translates into anything more than gibberish
or if you read in English and write in Chinese
but I didn't want to let you down.
I will strive to live up to higher standards.
Mean while enjoy a picture of two from my refueling sabbatical.

I am so proud of Peanut!! 
She did it!
I did it!!
My last few moments of public education documented in these smiles.
I have a lot to say on that matter but will leave it for the future and 
the perfect pos..........
Oh never mind!

My crush on Mister Rogers

I don't know if I have ever told anyone this,
But I had..have a crush on Mister Rogers.
I think of him every Monday as I am waiting impatiently for an email from Elder Nerent.
As I wait I realize that I should be doing something productive and so a song he use to sing comes to my mind,

Let's think of something to do while we're waiting
While we're waiting for something new to do.
Let's try to think up a song while we're waiting
That's liberating and will be true to you.
Let's think of something to do while we're waiting
While we're waiting 'til something's through.
You know it's really all right;
In fact, it's downright quite bright
To think of something to do
That's specific for you.
Let's think of something to do while we're waiting.


It always takes me back to my secret crush.
I never really paid attention to him when I was young,
Mostly because by the time his show was aired I was past my childhood prime.
I know my brother Baby Davey would watch,
And I as a know- it- all teenager  laughed at the Saturday Night Live parodies of him.
But then I became a mother.
And Mister Rogers more than any children s programming seemed to bring a sense of calm
and peacefulness to our house
Let's face it.
Sometimes he could be downright boring.
But it was a favorite of my children and it would buy me a half hour's peace.
I never understood why he needed to change his sweater and shoes all the time but hey...
Different strokes for different folks.
(btw: His mother made those sweaters that zipped by hand for him....ahhhh)
His puppets were crudely made and well let's face it again..
Lady Elaine was scary.

But there were days as a stay at home mother,
Where I didn't feel as happy or grateful to be home.
Attending to the mundane every day tasks that can seem never-ending,
I let thoughts creep in that maybe I wasn't always the best housekeeper
or the most patient mother.
Maybe I wasn't cut out for it.
Not every day.
But sometimes
and on one of those days I collapsed in a heap on the couch and just watched Mister Rogers.
He looked at me (I swear he looked right into my heart) and said
"You are special

Just the way you are."
And I believed him.
I watched him everyday after that.
Because he reminded me of something that I already knew...
But just needed to hear.

One of my favorite Mister Rogers stories is this about his accepting a Daytime Emmy:( excerpt from Esquire Magazine's coverage of the gala, written by Tom Junod)
" Mister Rogers went onstage to accept the award — and there, in front of all the soap opera stars and talk show sinceratrons, in front of all the jutting man-tanned jaws and jutting saltwater bosoms, he made his small bow and said into the microphone, "All of us have special ones who have loved us into being. Would you just take, along with me, ten seconds to think of the people who have helped you become who you are. Ten seconds of silence."
And then he lifted his wrist, looked at the audience, looked at his watch, and said, 'I'll watch the time." There was, at first, a small whoop from the crowd, a giddy, strangled hiccup of laughter, as people realized that he wasn't kidding, that Mister Rogers was not some convenient eunuch, but rather a man, an authority figure who actually expected them to do what he asked. And so they did. One second, two seconds, seven seconds — and now the jaws clenched, and the bosoms heaved, and the mascara ran, and the tears fell upon the beglittered gathering like rain leaking down a crystal chandelier. And Mister Rogers finally looked up from his watch and said softly "May God be with you," to all his vanquished children.


So to you Mister Rogers...
I thought of something to do while I'm waiting...
Ten seconds
to think of you and how you helped me to become who I am.
Thank you.

Cheap Hotel

This is the view from our hotel on our recent trip to Los Angeles.
Every time I plan a road trip I spend weeks on the internet agonizing over every detail.
One of the biggies is the hotel.
The hotel choice can make or break a vacation.
(well maybe that's a little dramatic but you know what I mean)
I drive myself crazy reading every review and trying to stay within a budget.
Not too cheap but definitely not too ritzy.
L.A. was really a hard one.
The bigger the city...the more options there are.
I asked Baby Davey what his thoughts were since he lived there for about 8 years.
I told him that I was considering a Quality Inn in Hermosa Beach
He said that it was a good choice.
The whole two days drive to get to LA I wondered and fretted over my choice of hotel.
We would be staying there for 5 nights so I wanted it to be decent.
And it was...
decent.
It had a view of the ocean...kinda
And it was roomy and clean.
I was proud of myself.
After we got home my husband received a phone call from our credit card company,
asking him to verify some charges that seemed unusual for us.
He starting listing some of the places that we had used the card.
"McDonald's in Fort Stockton Texas"...check.
"Hotel room in Demming New Mexico"....check.
"Welcome center in Willcox Arizona".....check.
"Cheap hotel in Hermosa Beach"......?
HUH?
My husband asked him to repeat the last charge.
"Cheap hotel in Hermosa Beach"?
Mr. T replied,
"Well I don't know about that...It wasn't that bad a hotel..."
"No Sir" the operate replied....cheaphotel.
"The restaurant."
C-H-I-P-O-T-L-E.
"Oh Mr. T. chuckled, Yes we ate there."

I was reminded of that story while I ate at Chipotle today with Mr. T. and Peanut. For some dumb reason EVERY one in my family LOVES Chipotle. I do not share their feelings. My feelings can be best summed up by a quote someone wrote on facebook about Chipotle.
"Why It's Overrated: Eating in a Chipotle is like grabbing lunch in a high school metal shop. The hard surfaces create an echo chamber that turns table talk into a hearing test. The chairs and tables, welded into place like a bus station cafeteria, aren't conducive to the enjoyment of a 1,250-calorie burrito the size of a bed and breakfast pillow."
Today was particularly annoying as they had the temperature set at about 60 degrees and packs of adolescents kept coming in "talking" at the top of their lungs. Add some really really loud jungle drum music piped in and you have the makings of a massive case of indigestion.
Happy Saturday everybody!!

Happy Guatemalan Mothers Day

My mom doesn't think she is beautiful.
It is my experience that you cannot convince someone something about themselves.
Unless they want to believe it.
So here is my best effort....

My mother is beautiful.
She is from a generation that the world
will miss when they are gone.
She makes being a mother and wife seem easy...
and beautiful.
She was raised in an age where giving service to your husband and children
was not extraordinary.
It was expected.
But my mom WAS extraordinary.

She is an amazing pianist.
Her talents on the piano not only enriched her family's lives
but
served whatever ward she lived in.
I wish I had a nickel for every time she accompanied someone or played in the background.
I would be rich.

She was an excellent seamstress.
She not only sewed the clothes for my sister and I growing up. (matching of course)
but she made mini replicas of our clothes for our dolls.
I wish more than anything that I still had those dolls and their clothing.

Halloween costumes...no problem. Handmade.

even as hobos we were dressed to the nines.
Notice the curlers in my sisters hair.
Even as hobos we needed to be well kempt for church the next morning.

Pioneer parade.
The real pioneers only wished they looked as good.

Holidays and special occasions?
They were always special.
She could decorate anything and make it feel like magic.
Decorated cakes, centerpieces, handmade invitations
and do it all while rocking a swimsuit.
(sorry mom I had to put this one in)

She was pre Martha Stewart and her decorating empire
and made all of tablescapes from scratch.

Her holiday meals are now legendary.
I have only made my own Thanksgiving dinner a few times.
Why would I want to miss out on one of her feasts.
Happily I cannot compete.

She has patiently passed on her culinary skills to her granddaughters.
Which is good so that I always have a place to eat.

She skies alongside her husband.
To make sure that he is always safe.

She runs, jumps, tubes, bungee jumps, plays, and travels alongside her grandchildren.
Putting any of her own fears aside.
So that they have a cool grandma
and so they learn that they can do anything.

She slips them cash for things that their parents deem frivolous.
Things that make them feel a little cooler like
Doc Martins or
Vera Bradley purses.
She defends them when she thinks their parents are being a little too tough on them.
And there is no limit to the amount of time that she will tickle or scratch their backs.

At my fathers side she has traveled the world.
Sometimes in luxury but sometimes in the cheap
where a hotel room might have just a light bulb hanging from
a cord in the middle of the room.
She has hiked, walked, climbed, and posed through almost
every continent in the world.
Because she is curious,
but also just because she is a faithful traveling companion.
Russia, Peru, Greece, Japan, Holland, Spain, France, Brazil, Egypt, Morocco China,
and many other ports of call.

She has served faithfully in almost every calling that the church can ask.
She has been a ward RS and Primary president, a chorister, a seminary teacher, an organist, primary teacher, counselor, scout leader, Stake RS and Primary president and so on.
She recently finished a year long mission here in the Houston Texas South mission and is now the Regional Genealogy coordinator along with my father.
She is smart,
(Did I mention she was valedictorian of her high school class?)
funny, kind, hard working, loving, generous and devoted.
It is hard to imagine that she could have done anything more for her family and her God.
She has given me immense love and an example which seems impossible to ever measure up to.
But she has made it seem like she is just an ordinary mom
Doing what she can.
If that is not BEAUTIFUL....
then what is.

Happy Mothers Day Mom!
I love you
P.S. I am technically not late with this post as it is Mother's Day in Guatemala (really I am not kidding) and you all know how half of my heart is there anyway.

A New Helmet

I spent the day on memory lane today.
It's a nice place to visit but...
I needed to pick 20 pictures for a slide show for my Peanut to be shown at a church Senior Roast.
It is a tradition in the wards that meet in our building.
I did it for Raar.
I did it for Nerent.
And now it's Peanuts turn.
20 pictures to try and represent her from cradle to high school graduate.
20 pictures.
I scanned the first one....

I looked into those eyes and....
uh oh.
This was not going to be easy.

When this picture was taken I was in the thick of things
as it were
of Motherhood.
There didn't seem to be a minute that there wasn't someone needing something from me.
Sometimes I felt like if one more person called my name...
Mom mommy momma mama mother....
I would scream.
If one more person needed to be held or picked up or changed or fed.....
Sometimes when Mr. T came through the door I wasn't even sure that I could give him a hug.
I just didn't NEED anymore physical contact...from anyone.
It seemed like it would be that way
forever.

Wrong.
How could I have looked forward to this day so much.
And yet be so unprepared for it now.
It makes me think of the story I told the Primary kids on Sunday about faith.
The lesson was about how faith is strengthened through obedience.
I told about a time when Peanut was 8 or 9.
It was a rule in our household that if you were on something with wheels you wore a helmet.
And if the wheels were on a car...a seat belt.
I did a pretty good job of enforcing that rule.
Anytime the announced that they were going to ride their bike I would say,
"Wear a helmet"
(Groans and rolling of the eyes followed the edict)
But helmets were worn.
Peanut went to spend the night at a friends house.
I don't know if the rule was not followed there or if it was because the mom went out that morning,
But Peanut decided that just this once....
No helmet.
The phone call I received was a doozy
I could hear Lauren in the background screaming and crying.
The oldest child there was trying to get Peanut to talk into the phone but to no avail.
No one could tell me what was going on.
I finally yelled into the phone, "WHAT IS GOING ON? WHAT HAPPENED?
Peanut finally calmed down enough to tell me that she had fallen off of a bike and hit her head.
Her helmet-less head.
Mr. T and I rushed to the car and sped off. I prayed the whole way.
Please let this be OK.
Please don't let this be serious.
We got to the home and found Lauren crying.
Her yellow shirt was drenched red down her back
I was glad that she couldn't see how much blood there was.
I searched her curly tangled mop of hair for an assessment of the damage.
It didn't look too bad.
Whew.
We took her to the emergency room where they glued it back together and told us to watch for signs of concussion. The doctor said that she might throw up but if she did more than twice then we would have to call him to decide what was next.
She threw up three times.
I called and he said that we would give her just one more chance.
But no more throwing up or we would be back at the hospital.
We watched her all day and let her sleep.
I held her in my arms wihile stroking her matted curly mop of hair.
As soon as she felt better we would address the infraction.
The lack of helmet.
She was not prepared to ride a bike until her head was properly protected.

As I looked for 20 pictures of Peanut today,
20 pictures to represent her life....my life
I thought about that story
And realized that I am not sure that I am ready for this next phase.
I feel as if I am getting on a huge new bike......
Without a helmet.

I am definitely going to have to find new one.

It Started With a Wink post script

I wanted to add a post script to my story,
Of Mr. T and I meeting.
That has always seemed pretty amazing to me.
And I neglected to include it in the original post.
Mr. T and I grew up in the same stake.
For my readers who are not LDS
Church units are divided geographically into wards.
Those are the people that you see and worship with every Sunday.
The wards are then put together in unit called a Stake.
(sounds delicious but unfortunately there is no high end beef served there)
As a teenager you are constantly meeting with other teenagers in your stake
For dances and youth conferences and firesides.
(firesides are sunday meetings where there is a speaker...no fires.....no smores or anything)
Mr. T. and I grew up in the same stake
And I NEVER laid eyes on him until that amazing, heart beat inducing, photograph.
NEVER....
Trust me!
I would NOT have overlooked someone like him
Later I even found our names on the same committee for a youth conference.
An explanation, you ask?
That's a good question....
Fate, kismet, call it what you will
Sometimes things just work out like that.
Like on one of my favorite shows LOST,
They show the main characters in flashbacks walking by each other with no knowledge of their true destiny.
But when the time is right....
Dang!

And in other news.....
Here is what NOT to give me for mother's day....
Not that I thought you would give me anything
But just in case.......

I saw this on an infomercial at about 2 am.
You really have to see the commercial to appreciate the creepiness.
It is two stuffed arms.
They come in a box that looks like it might contain a dozen roses.
But no......it is two severed arms that you are suppose to wrap around your neck or waist.
But here is the best part....
You push a button....
And the arms talk.
In the voice of your loved one.
Talking severed arms.
Happy Mother's Day

P.S. again: After Mother's Day what do you do with your talking severed arms. Do you continue to wrap them around you? Do you put them back in the box until next year? Do you pass them on to someone else who might need a hug? Just wondering......

It all started with a wink ;)

The first time I laid eyes on Mr T. was with a picture.
This picture to be exact.

It was my first day at BYU.
I was moving in and getting to know my new roommate.
She was a girl from my stake but we didn't really know each other that well.
Nothing more than casual acquaintances who said hello at youth activities.
She showed me this picture.
I can't remember why she did or what she said but I thought,
"Dang!
He is GOOD LOOKING"
Of course by her showing me that picture I didn't even consider him since every girl knows the "THE CODE" as it pertains to guys.
If you don't know what THE CODE and you are reading this scratching your head....you must either be a guy or raised by wolves.
Ask the nearest female.
But dang.
He WAS good looking.
A few weeks later I met him while having a impromptu birthday party for my roommate.
Mr. T stopped by for a piece of cake by her invitation.
And DANG!
He was even better looking in person.
The epitome of tall dark and handsome.
But I didn't give it much thought.
THE CODE....remember?
Plus I had my eye on his roommate by that time.
That is until Mr. Roommate turned out to be in love with someone else.
Himself.
Still I didn't really think about Mr. T as a possibility.....THE CODE!
One night though our paths crossed in the local 7-11.
He was with a football buddy and I was with my best friend.
We went there to buy a bag of caramels for a late night evening of girl talk.
I should have known I was a goner when I made my friend buy the bag of caramels.
I didn't want him to think that I would eat a whole bag of caramels.
The four of us walked back to the dorms.
We all stood outside talking for quite awhile.
After about an hour our friends made their exits, my roommate still holding on to the bag of caramels.
It was just Mr. T and I.
We talked for about 3 hours standing outside until we couldn't feel our fingers and toes.
DANG! THE CODE!
I actually was dating someone at the time who had asked me to the Winter Preference Dance that following weekend.
Mr. T had also been asked by an admirer to escort her to the dance.
I secretly wished that Mr. T would be my date for that dance since I thought of little else but him by that time.
I imagined that he might be sitting in his dorm room thinking the same thing
But I didn't know
He was kinda shy that way.
The night of the dance came and as I entered the Cannon Center,
(that's right...a dance in the cafeteria...how romantic)
I saw him with his date.
AGONY!
I have never wanted to be with someone more than I did Mr. T.
The heck with THE CODE!
It had been a whole semester and with the exception of that birthday party he had nothing to do with my roommate.
I came up with a plan.
Wherever Mr. T and his date were, be it eating or dancing
My date and I were there.
I am sure that my date didn't know which end was up by the way I drug him around the room that night.
I needed to make some type of move.
As slow romantic music came on,  I positioned my date and I,
dancing right next to Mr. T. and his date dancing.
I kept waiting for the moment when we would both be facing each other with our dates facing the opposite way.
It took so long to coordinate our movements to make for just the right moment.
Turn....no.....turn....no...turn.
It seemed like it was taking forever.
But then it happened.
And I winked
His eyes seemed to register shock.
We were now dancing in sync with each other
I knew it would take more than once.....
So that he didn't think that I just had something in my eye.
Turn.....
wink.
This time the look of realization came over his face.
Turn....
He winked back.
My heart almost burst out of my chest.
I was so happy.
I don't know how many times that we winked that night, but my date must have been pretty confused by sudden fits of giddiness.
(yes I feel guilty about it now)
As his date went to the bathroom..... I did too and walked by Mr. T and whispered,
:Come meet me after the dance at my window."
And the rest of the story is as they say....
History.

On this special day celebrating 27 years of being sealed for time and all eternity to Mr. T. I want to tell him publicly;
DANG!!!
You are my everything.
(wink)

And you are STILL the most handsome man I have ever laid eyes on.

Happy Anniversary my love.

Kitty and Baby Davey

The little boy in the in the red and white striped shirt who looks like Ray Charles is my baby brother.
His bloggy name shall henceforth be Baby Davey,
(Unless I think of something more fitting in the future)
The little boy girl in the front of the photo is unfortunately me. (We can talk about that awkward stage on another day....all I can say is pixie cut AND cat eye glasses....really mom why didn't you just write dork across my forehead in sharpie marker and be done with it.)
My baby brother is holding Kitty.
Kitty and Baby Davey
BFF's
Only Kitty in the picture does not resemble the real Kitty.
The real Kitty when first presented to BD (Baby Davey for short) was like most stuffed animals.
Soft and furry.
With plastic cat eyes and synthetic fur parts.
I don't remember that Kitty. I'll just have to take my mother's word on that.
I remember the Kitty in the picture.
All white cloth, smooth like a bed sheet, with eyes and nose embroidered on.
My hazy memory remembers  pink and blue stitching.
The legend of Kitty was that she was replaced literally one piece at a time.
As Kitty would lose a eye or a tail or a paw,
It would be replaced by a fix-it-all mother.
With an old bed sheet and embroidery floss.
At first it was only a tail..
Then a leg or an ear....
Until finally there was nothing left of the original Kitty
except for a little stuffing and a lot of memories.
Kitty was loved into a completely new being.
My brother BD is a little like Kitty.
He has gone through his own physical metamorphosis.
His body has been altered by an undiagnosed neurological illness.
He endured the scars and surgeries and skin grafts for flesh eating bacteria.
He recovered from severe burns to his hand after a handful of sparklers exploded like a bomb.
He doesn't really like to ever focus on those events and that is not what I wanted to talk about either.
I want to talk about his stuffing.
Because I don't know if I have ever adequately conveyed to him,
Just how amazing he is.
I have watched over the last ten years as my annoying, pestery, baby brother has morphed
into this
amazing man.
He never complains or reminds anyone of the things he cannot do.
Or the parts of him that were replaced.
He just moves forward with strength and dignity and amazing ability.
And I forget about what he has had to endure.
He is softer, kinder and wiser for the wear.
I am so proud of him.
I am proud that he is my baby brother.
Like Kitty he is different than what he started out as.
I think God has loved him into a completely new being.

P.S. Shhhh .....Don't tell BD about this post. He will only get the "big head". After all, he is still my pesky little brother.





 

As I promised......

The story behind the picture as promised.

It all started with Elder Nerent deciding he needed to bungee jump over the Royal Gorge.

He didn't just want to, he needed to.

It was the summer before his ninth grade year.

The beginning of that awkward transformation from boy to man.

Even his hair turned curly that summer as if to remind his mom that there would be big changes underfoot.

As soon as we entered the park he declared that he needed to do it.

(This is the bungee jump he is pointing to as seen from the other side..... the safe side of the gorge.)

For those of you not familiar with Royal Gorge in Colorado. Here is what it looks like.

The bungee jump flung you right over this!
But whatever.....he HAD too.
Problem was that he didn't HAVE to do it alone.
In fact he made it known to everyone that he would like one of us to join him.
It was after all a death sling built for two.
Mr. T was not an option from the get go on account of his major dislike of heights.
(You notice I didn't say the work "fear". Mr. T. does NOT have fears.)
Peanut was just out of elementary school and wasn't really a viable victim, I mean candidate.
I actually love rides that plummet (weird I know) but I am extremely prone to motion sickness particularly when I have to go backwards and when you are riding on a giant rubber band....well let's just say it can be unpredictable.
That left Raar.
(Insert laughter here)
Raar was the person least likely to try anything that could be construed as dangerous. She didn't learn to ride a bike until she was almost 9. She didn't climb anything or make any sudden movements. She was a thinker and a talker....not a risk taker.
So for sure that was not an option.
For the next two hours Elder Nerent asked and begged and wheedled and whined.
I even told him that he could go alone as long as he paid for it with his own money.
I thought that the money thing would stop him.
But no,
After a couple of hours he decided he would go it alone.
Man/boy versus gorge.
As we arrived at the jump and out of the blue. Raar says that she will do it.
I have had many twists and turns and surprises as a mother but this was one of the biggest.
I was in such shock that I didn't even have the wind to ask her,
WHY?
before she was whisked off to get in her harness gear.
They took my two children who started to appear younger and more fragile to me by the second to a board to go over the directions for the jump.

They explained all of the procedures and gave all the warnings. I think that possible death was one of them.
The picture I posted....my favorite and one of the ones I might rescue if in a burning building...
Was taken right after their instructions as they are waiting for their turn.

Here it is again
This is what fear and love look like side by side.
Note the look of terror on Raar's face.
Note the protective arm around her shoulder. (This was NOT a common occurrence for Elder Nerent since he is a sweet kind young man but not real touchy feely.)
I cannot look at this photo without a smile and sometimes a tear or two.
Because that is what every mother hopes for in their children.
Love and overcoming fear.
I will now post the pictures of the actual bungee jump.
But I am saving the best for last.
I will tell you what Raar said when she got off.
The reason why she did what she did.

Look at the fear in her fake smile

Being harnessed in. (I am a little nervous at this point and wondering what kind of mother lets her kids do this)
Raar is starting to cry enough that the employees are asking her if she is alright.

I love this picture too.
Raar's smile.
It could not be more real.
And the reason why she did it?
She would whisper it in my ear a little later,
after the congratulatory high fives, smiles and adrenalin died down.
"Do you know why I did it?"
she whispered.
"Why", I eagerly responded.
"Because I didn't want my brother to die alone."
(Insert tears here)