I think it’s
interesting the things we remember about a person.
The first
thing that came to my mind when I was thinking of memories of my mom was
“Dirt.”
My mom loved
the smell of dirt. When driving to my grandparents house when I was younger, we
would turn onto the dirt road and she would let us roll down the windows
because she loved that smell.
Equally as
wonderful to her was the smell of rain. She would get excited about everything
about the rain. When a monsoon storm would roll in my mom was quick to run
outside with us and spread her arms wide and dance in the rain.
She, also,
loved leaves in the fall and would go out of her way to step on them to hear
the crunch.
At the
beach, she gathered sea shells and loved splashing her feet in the water and digging
her toes in the sand.
She had a
fascination with rocks. I would often see her studying them intently. And she
gathered quite a collection. That I don’t think my dad fully appreciated.
I was
looking through her camera this week and I loved seeing what she saw through
that lens—while there was plenty of her family, there was also so many beautiful
mountain-scapes, cactus, small flowers, grass, water, rocks.
Clearly, my
mom had a deep love of and appreciation for nature. What a beautiful example
she was to slow down and truly see and find joy and wonder in the beautiful
world that God created us—the smells, the sights, and the feels.
Because of her
delight in the world, she instilled a love of nature in me, and I’m sure in so
many around her. Like little Layla who has her own rock collection like her
grandma.
Thinking about
how she instilled this in me helped me realize something else this week.
I have
struggled with the fact that my mom couldn’t be there in the way that I needed the
last few years during some of the hardest moments of my life. This week I
finally realized I’ve been telling myself that but that just isn’t true.
If a tree is
going to withstand the wind and storms it needs deep roots. If a building is
going to stand the test of time it needs a strong foundation. Without those
roots, without that foundation neither would stand long.
My mom gave
me that foundation and those roots so that I can face whatever hard thing comes
at me. She is at the core of who I am and what I know and the childhood she
gave me, and my sisters, is our strong foundation. She had already given me
everything I needed and she will continue to do so because she is a part of who
I am.
She built my
foundation when she taught us to have fun in life. My all time favorite memory
was the day she let us put dawn dish soap on the floor of our kitchen and slide
all around with our friends. (Though my sisters remember the tears she cried
for the next few days as she tried to get the soap off of the floor.) She also
planned game shows like “double dare” and “the price is right.” She let us
spray our dirt backyard in Phoenix with water and cover ourselves with mud. And
she joined us! She gave us water guns in our easter baskets so we could have an
indoor water fight each year, with no worry about the water in the house. ‘water
doesn’t hurt and water dries” is something she would often say through out her
life. When we were young and had to wait at places like doctors offices, she
made up games like “stop and go.” She loved to play and live life to the
fullest and have fun. She knew fun, laughter, and play was the best way to relieve
stress, find joy, and feel truly alive.
She built my
foundation when she beat to her own drum. She never cared about popularity or
appearances. I think she had different priorities than many people. She valued
people over things, character over appearance, serving over wealth. She may
have ran around in sweatpants and flip flops and refused to ever put her hair
in a ponytail, but she was genuine and real. She was always true to herself.
One day when I was in elementary school and we lived in Mesa, a friend was
over. We had a love/hate relationship with the boys our age in our
neighborhood. One particular day, they had been teasing me and my friend and we
confided in my mom. She shared her wisdom with us and told us to hold our heads
up high as we walked by them and maybe even put our noses in the air and just
ignore them. I remember we did just that. That day became a lesson for life--She
knew that there would always be people teasing or mocking, trying to pull us
down, or distracting us. Keep your head up, walk confidently forward knowing
who you are, and don’t let other people bring you down. That’s how my mom
lived.
She built my
foundation by teaching me to walk. Yeah literally she as a baby she helped me
walk, but it was all the walking and the talking that I did with her,
especially in junior high, high school, and college that influenced me. She
would walk with her dear friends around Fraser fields every morning. On the
days that I could, she would let me join her. I learned the joy of moving my
body and engaging in deep conversations as we walked the neighborhood. On Sundays,
my mom and I would often go on “barefoot walks” down the sidewalk (when it wasn’t
100 degrees outside). And we had a zoo membership so even in college we would
meet up just to walk together around the zoo. My mom taught me you can solve a
lot of problems by walking and the power of connecting with people while doing
so.
She built my
foundation by encouraging us to create, imagine, learn, and explore. She
encouraged us in our imaginative play and allowed us free reign to build Barbie
and my little pony houses wherever we saw fit. She gave us lots of time and
space just for play and creativity—like organizing our own gymnastics Olympics.
My mom allowed us and encouraged us to make our own choices, even in the simple
things like letting us arrange and rearrange our bedroom furniture however we
wanted. She let us learn and figure things out by doing them. When Jacqui
wanted to make and direct a short film about getting locked into a church
building, she supported her fully, invited friends to be extras, and we all
took a role in the movie she made. Such a great mom to encourage that. When we
lived in west Phoenix and they didn’t feel comfortable sending us to those particular
public schools, she homeschooled us. We did plenty of book work and lessons in
the living room, but as our teacher, she took us out exploring the world and museums
and taught us through conversation everywhere we went. I remember one time when
she wanted to teach us about other countries, she set up chairs in our living
room and created an airplane to fly us to Australia. She gave us plane tickets,
in flight snacks, and when we landed, showed us a documentary on Australia and
gave us foods she made from traditional recipes. She was always creative and
fun in her approach to teach us. She loved reading and she shared her love of
reading with us. We were always at the library getting stacks of books. Late at
night, you could often find her with a box of cheeze-its and a book in her
hand. I also specifically remember her teaching me to read poetry with expression.
She fostered a love of learning, independence, and creativity. I think she saw
the great value in developing confidence by doing, thinking outside the box to
solve problems, and continuing to grow and explore throughout life.
She built my
foundation by loving, serving and appreciating others. My mom enjoyed baking
and I loved joining her in the kitchen. But it was an unspoken rule that whenever
we baked we would share with the neighbors or someone in the ward. We were
often running cinnamon rolls, snickerdoodles or her caramel popcorn balls to someone.
She and my dad welcomed everyone into our home with kindness and Christlike, non-judgmental
love—friends from school, multiple foreign exchange students, missionaries, the
neighbor boys who wanted to play our drums and guitars—everyone was welcome. I
know she was like a second mom to many of our friends. Together with my dad, they
would do anything for anyone--she housed one of my friends for a few months
when I didn’t even live at home anymore. I know they did that for multiple
people. My Eric told me his favorite thing about my mom was how she was fully
present with you. She treated everyone as one of her own. When you talked with
her she was fully engaged and made you feel so accepted and included. She
showed her love to my dad by her every day acts of service. When my dad left
early for work, sometimes 4 in the morning, she would get up to cook him a
breakfast before he left. She lived her life giving to others without holding
back. It was her christ-like love that was her greatest gift.
She built my
foundation by making music an important part of life. Listening to music,
dancing and performing in the living room, and singing along was at the heart
of the childhood she gave us. My mom raised us on the music of the Monkees as number
one. “Hey hey we’re the monkees” was pretty much our family motto. But she also
played the Chiffons, Beach Boys, and Buddy Holly and so much more. My mom would
get together with her friend Kathy Couch all the time and they would play
guitar and sing. I thought it was so much fun listening to them and watching
them perform at the ward talent show. She tucked us in so many nights by singing
“Brahms lullaby.” Every time I sing it to my kids, I think of her. My mom loved
concerts. Just a few months ago Kacin got to take his grandma to the last Monkees
concert. When I was in high school, Jimmy Eat World became one of her favorite
bands and I went to multiple concerts with her. The last one I went to with
her, it was Eric and I that wanted to hang back behind the crowd and she was
ready to push her way through the mosh pit to the front. When I was with her in
the ICU on Saturday, it was when I played the Monkees and Jimmy Eat World that
she opened her eyes for a few minutes and gave me her last beautiful, peaceful smile.
She left this world on Monday surrounded by her family and listening to the
song “Hear You Me” by Jimmy Eat World. She knew the power of music to bring joy
and fun, to express yourself, to comfort—music was a life line.
She built my
foundation by doing hard things. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been to
be a teenager in a full back brace. She had multiple back surgeries for her
scoliosis. She had severe allergies as a child. And as an adult she was always in
a lot of pain. Years ago my mom and I had a conversation about the motto “I can
do hard things” and it became the thing that we would take turns reminding each
other. “I can do hard things.” With my dad around her all the time, she needed
to remember that.😉 just kidding.
Most importantly, she built my foundation through her conversion to the gospel, living her testimony, and pointing me towards Christ. After my mom joined the church of jesus christ of latter-day saints as a young adult, I know there became some difficult things about that for my grandparents. There was always an abundance of mutual respect and love and they never really talked about it with me but I know it was hard. I never once saw my mom waver in her quiet, strong testimony of her Savior and the church. Her commitment was proof that she had a testimony of Jesus Christ and the restoration of His church. She taught me to treat the scriptures and the temple garments with such respect and reverence—never tossing either of them on the ground. We had a family rule that my mom enforced that we couldn’t get on screens each day before we had read our scriptures. My mom encouraged and helped us with that to make sure that we were prioritizing our day and putting God first. I remember waking up early some mornings and finding my parents praying together. My mom prayed with such ferventness and reverence. If you heard her pray, you knew that she knew that God was there and listening to her. She was a steady consistent rock in helping us develop our own understanding of who God is and how we can become more like Him. She had very high standards and kept our home free of influences that would drive the spirit away. (I only heard her cuss twice in her life and both times I was driving—oops. Sorry I drove you to that, mom). She exemplified the christ-like attributes of humility, patience, love, and sacrifice. She didn’t just talk about Christ, she tried to live like Him. It wasn’t just in one moment that she pointed me towards Christ, it was just by being her that I knew He was the one to look to for support, strength, and direction.
We all know
my mom was far from perfect. You probably see a lot of her quirks passed down
to her children, too—stubbornness, lack of tact, messy purse, or an anxious
nature. She carried a lot of heavy pain around. But you don’t have to be
perfect to build a strong foundation for someone.
My mom built
such a strong foundation for our little family.
So because
of her, I realize I was and I am perfectly prepared to face life. My sisters
are, too.
I hope today
you can think of someone who has helped you build your foundation. Go hug them
tight. Tell them how much you appreciate them.
I also hope
that you can in turn be that foundation for someone else.
All while
recognizing that the strongest foundation any of us have is Jesus Christ.
I’ll leave
my testimony with you today that I know we have a Heavenly Father who loves us.
I know our Savior Jesus Christ is our friend, our exemplar, our strength, and
our hope. I know that He lives. And because of that we will be reunited with our
sweet mother, grandmother, wife, and friend.
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