like penguins

I think God has been merciful this year.  Our January passed, and I had no complaints about the weather. There were only two real snowfalls. This was the second. William and Sophie and I met Grant at the kindergarten bus, and we threw rocks at the ice on the pond, and they rode the swings, and slid down the big hill "like penguins," since we had not brought the sleds. Then we went home for cocoa, of course.

january's big snow

seven days of stink

Judging by the archives, it would seem there wasn't much to say about January 2013.  But if there were just one word, it would be pollution.

Throughout the month Sam kept saying, "This is what I don't miss about Beijing."

And I kept wondering to myself-- Whatever happened to The English Beat?-- a band that will always remind me of Santa Barbara mornings riding from early morning seminary to high school with the Mormon kids in the Mills girls' Land Rover. The lyrics to Mirror in the Bathroom were stuck in my head, but just one line really.

Drift gently into mental illness.

 It seemed like that was what everyone was talking about... in Utah Valley... in the Salt Lake valley. It was about the terrible cold, and the terrible stink, and the cold that kept in the stink. Or was it the stink that kept the in the cold?



Toxins must have been on Ben's mind too. I walked into his room one January morning and found this Ben Raines pen-on-canvas newly displayed on the wall among the movie posters.

 One Saturday we drove to Draper, and as we ascended I prepared myself to enjoy the majestic view at the top.  Winding up the mountain road, just as we reached the summit where our friends live, we all gasped. It was like a B-grade horror flick.  The black, amorphous, mass--heavy and foul, hovered over the valley, and from our view point, threatened to envelope and smother the inhabitants with a blanket of particulates. Meanwhile, everyone below, though pausing to bemoan their mild displeasure with another stinky day, continued innocently to inhale and exhale.

Facebook was rife with comments.  And I started to notice a meltdown trend among the family.  One night after the next, this child or that decided that life was tragic and meaningless, and on about the fifth day of stink I started to agree.

The ill tempered children brought back affectionate memories of our time in Guangzhou, and the wisdom of our dear Chinese ayis.  If the children were depressed, throwing fits, or running a fever, the polite explanation was always kongqi bu hao--bad air. For that matter if the washing machine wasn't working, the traffic was terrible, the milkman was late kongqi bu hao could also be held to blame. At the time, I dismissed so much of their insight and carefulness--umbrellas in the sunshine, watermelon makes you cough, the fear of cold beverages...

 But years later, after just one week of bad air in this mountain paradise, I realized how right they were.  A little kongqi bu hao  and  everyone you knew had a cold or complaint.

At the same time, Beijing was suffering its own bad air crisis, with the particulate index at 725. That's 225 points off the U.S. Embassy charts, much worse than any day we experienced there.

 Even this February 2010 morning...can you even recognize this as River Garden?

Vice Beta blogger George Ding wrote this post, Beijing's Pollution Problem is Becoming Harder to Ignore including unbelievable photographs of the city shrouded in toxic air, and discussing the more serious effects of long term pollution, and The Sydney Morning Herald published this story, Canned Air for Sale in China about a Beijing business man who sold flavored air to increase awareness and concern about China's environmental crisis.


George Ding wrote, "Like with other global crises, self-delusion helps to get you through the day."  

Jobs were the big focus of our 2012 election, and shipping to jobs to China a big part of the discussion. Between all our competitiveness and complaints about our weakening national economy, do we give China any credit for bearing the environmental burden of global commerce?  While we've shipped jobs overseas, we've also shipped the bad air, taking advantage of fewer restrictions to decrease costs, but leaving our toxic mark on the cities and villages abroad. At some point we will need to set new priorities, for the sake of their children, and ours.

 This was the snow that broke through the inversion.  It came in with warmer air and cleaned the skies.



 This was the fairly impressive accumulation of several January snows.




 After a month of permafrost, we were blessed with a typical Utah melt.  While we were loading into the van one morning I noticed that Grant had paused in on this green patch and was quietly speaking to the ground. "Hello grass. I missed you."

love-loss-festivity-and ordinary days

And just when I think I might have opened a chapter called moving forward--I arrive again at Christmastime. The children's intense anticipation, the familiar music, the lights--blue and white against deep, dark, snowy nights, are at one moment a completely wonderful source of joy, and the next an almost unbearable source of melancholy. Here I am balancing and managing the magic with the to-do's as a single parent for the third year, hoping that I can keep that childlike love for this time of year alive in them, in spite of my inadequacies and exhaustion. 

Have you ever prayed so earnestly just to ask God, "If I can't have what I want now, could you please just let me know what You want."  

"And if that is too much to ask could you just please let me know that You are there?"

 Friday December 14, I took the little ones to preschool and started my Christmas shopping. By noon I had picked them up, returned home, and heard the first of the tragic news from Connecticut.  Prayer is long distance compassion, charity in thought and deed, opening up your heart in an attempt to share the burden of another person's pain that would be otherwise unbearable.  I saw the flags in mourning around town by evening, and they reminded me to pray.

 Saturday morning the children and I walked over to the church for the ward Christmas breakfast.

Little pumpkin.

 The primary children performed a few Christmas carols. Not hard to pick out Bethany.

Saturday was a busy day, so I was grateful that our friends from the ward brought over a mountainous pan of pancakes, and filled our kitchen counter with trays of leftover fruit and ham--which kept the kids fed all day as I shuttled the girls back and forth, through the snow--which I was grateful was atmospheric but light, to their dance dress rehearsals.  

In the evening...the long awaited performance. The girls were in several numbers. Bethany's ballet class danced to Ave Maria.

Saturday I went to bed with a great sense of accomplishment, having survived the dance recital super Saturday.  I am sure the girls did as well. I don't know why that mood has to be so fleeting...might have had something to do with the Sunday morning rush to church, for which I was no match that day. William and I arrived after my Sunday school class was due to start and the kids had already been separated in to other classes, and I remembered that prayer.

"Are You there?"

"Are You watching this?"

"Could You please give me a little insight into just where this is headed?"

Sunday evening I was playing Christmas carols on the piano and the bishop stopped by with an envelope. Said someone had given it to him to pass to me.  I remembered that prayer again.

"Just let me know that You are there."

We have been blessed every Christmas of our life as parents by huge generosity from others. One year, when we were just students with two little boys, a whole clan adopted us and filled our home with decorations, and food, and gifts. I was pregnant that Christmas, but in January I miscarried.  I was devastated, but one thing stayed in the back of my mind. It was the love that I knew God had for us, because he had sent that family to us in December. I knew that He was there.  Sunday I was overwhelmed again. And humbled that I had wondered to begin with.

 It snowed again last week. 

 Grant was proud of his work, as he should be. I was too weather wimpy to go out and help.

Wednesday was the last day of school for the week, a half day.  I went to the elementary school in the morning to help out with the Christmas festivities in Caitlin's class.  Ava's mom brought Rudolph Sandwiches. I passed out pretzels, and wiped up peanut butter, and snitched M&Ms. As I walked through the halls I could hear the buzz of excitement from the classrooms, and felt humbled by a huge sense of gratitude for peace and safety in our school that morning.  For some reason, it brought to mind my this clip of concentration camp survivor Gerda Weissmann Klein...and her words 

"I am no better... than those who never lived to know the magic of a boring evening at home," 

and I thought what a blessing it is to have another day to celebrate... holidays and ordinary days. 

october snow

While Grandma Martha was away in beautiful California, we had our first snow. 

                                                                       Everyday I have more respect for pansies.

Grant was excited to go out and make snow angels. Somehow I only got footprints.

When our neighbor Marie got off the kindergarten bus the kids made a snow dog.

The snow was wonderful for the apples.  Everyone in the neighborhood has been talking about how flavorful they are now--  almost lemony. I love having this tree in common.  I would live in a commune in a heartbeat.

My alyssum didn't mind the snow.  They are still in bloom.

 I went out to rescue the little green tomatoes. 

This was the day before. The plant had grown up on to the rose trellis. I wish we could have had an Indian summer. I had dozens of new tomatoes.

I have been so grateful for this little flower box all summer and fall.  It has grown so abundantly.

December 2011

2011 I had the Christmas tree up before December first, unusual for me.

I was grateful for a month of warmth days.

We only had one day of snow.  Grant was so excited to go outside and embrace what he could.

He said it was a "perfect day."

He wanted to stand underneath the run off water.

Sam had two DECA competitions. On the afternoon before one fieldtrip, I picked up Sam from school. He told me he needed a new suit.  I was feeling sick and ready to just go home and call it a day.  When we walked in the door there was a big box of clothing in the kitchen.  A friend of mine had told me she had some clothing for the boys to look through. On top of the box was a handsome suit coat.  I asked Sam to try it on and it fit perfectly.  There was a also a pair of very nice dress shoes, in his something like size 14 size!  Granddad took him out to buy a pair of pants, a new shirt, and a tie.  He looked smashing!  I was grateful that God knew our needs and answered them in that small way.  Sam took third place in parliamentary procedure, most notable because he hadn't even planned to compete in that event.