two of my children had birthdays this month.

other than a birthday cake and song for k~ at the meeting formerly known as a farewell and a cupcake from the sweet tooth fairy for suze, we still haven’t celebrated.

this one was away at 5th grade camp on the day he turned 11

this one (left) was still recovering from the airport scene (we’re all still recovering from the airport scene, but trust me when i tell you i spared you the most heart-wrenching of the photos) and was with us at a family reunion in the uintahs on the day she turned 15

this week my mother is having hip replacement surgery. on the very same day i am also helping host a baby shower, to be held in my backyard. at the exact same time (i was informed this afternoon), i am supposed to be attending a training meeting of sorts for my new calling.

in my spare time this week i’ll preparing to present as part of the blogging panel at the first ever segullah writing retreat.

and waiting by the mailbox for letters from zack (posting them here), who, if i remember correctly, will have to use snail mail instead of e-mail until he leaves the mtc for the leeds mission. (i want a physical address that contains the words “lister hill,” i’m just sayin.’)

and looking forward to hearing about the reunion of the two elders rowley.

i’ll try to keep you posted.

lately i have developed what is the equivalent of a black thumb (as opposed to a green one) for event planning. i’ll spare you the sad details, but please trust me when i tell you that having my hand in the planning is essentially a DEATH KNELL for any event.

but this i think i can handle:

go here today.

go here tomorrow.

and go here on april 13.

and say HaPpY BiRtHdAy! already!!!

mkay thanks!

i don’t know what it is about birthdays that end w/ a zero. i still remember when i was just a couple of years past the big 4-0 and my good friend and neighbor was going on about how awful it was to turn 3-0 (why hadn’t i thought of that?). most all of the people i know leave town for the big 5-0. me? i don’t know. but at this moment, i say embrace it! i think i’ll have to take a lesson from this guy:

you know there must be something special about a guy when the girl who lives down the street regularly knocks on your door the second a car pulls in the driveway at your house and asks, “can mr. rowley come out to play?”

sweet little girl who lives down the lane

yes, everybody does love mr. rowley, but most especially the kids. and it’s easy to see why:

the beloved mr. rowley

because in many ways–most especially in his big generous heart–mr. rowley is still just a big kid himself, i think he’ll embrace the big 5-0 fearlessly.

as well he should.

the man can still out-shoot almost any 20-something at the baseline on either side of a basketball court.

he can still remember just about anyone he’s ever met (just last year he glanced at the avatar of my friend sharlee and told me he thought that she had attended his elementary school for a time. i didn’t believe him. sharlee was just as amazed as i was that he’d remember and confirmed that it was true.) and almost anything that has ever happened to him. the things we remember differently can easily be researched and confirmed because, among his many talents, he is also a wonderful journal keeper.

one day several years ago i got a call from a woman who was working as an aide in his class. she went on about what a marvelous storyteller he was and how she regretted not having brought a tape recorder to class over the year so she could record them so he could write a book. (i share her regret.) i probably should just start carrying one around in my pocket, because you never know what event or image will trigger a story from the life and times of mr. rowley.

just last sunday it was the sight of a pheasant in a field down by the lake that sparked a story about his past. we were on our way home from my brother’s house in spanish fork. by way of the provo river, of course (not really, you know, on-the-way-home) as we needed to see the new bridge over the river provo.

mr. rowley is one of those people who like to take the long way home. he will regularly drive hours out of his way to see an old friend, his sister, or a distant cousin. his visits, timely phone calls and seemingly accidental incidents of thinking about someone he hasn’t seen in awhile and then bumping into them a few days later help keep friends and family connected in significant ways.

i know those simple but thoughtful gestures truly mean something to people. i could sense it almost tangibly and see it in their eyes when a parent of some of mr. rowley’s former students brought together a handful of his friends during our sometimes-bleak last winter. i know with a surety that their prayers and those of all of mr. rowley’s beloved friends (as well as yours, dear readers–thank you!) had a hand in the miracle that was wrought.

mr. rowley and (just a few) friends

april first is an auspicious day. (i’m telling you cjane…).

HaPpY BiRtHdAy Mr. rOwLeY!

we love you!!!

sometimes i have to write things down. somewhere. anywhere. because i want to capture a moment or a picture or a thought but (as you can likely tell by the shocking lack of photographs on my blog) i don’t have a camera on hand. all i have are words (and you know i will lose the moment if i just tuck it away somewhere in my head).

like my friend melody, who has written some of her loveliest poetry on the back of a receipt while stopped at a stop light, i have recorded memories on scraps of trash–a receipt, a napkin, a styrofoam cup–picked up from the floor of my toyota sienna. i wrote my best essay ever in red ink on the wrinkled back of my internet contract. i’m pretty sure there was a muddy footprint on one of the pages, but i was camping and it was all i could find.

yesterday i recorded one of my favorite moments of the day as my status in facebook. which is so much easier to write on that a styrofoam cup:

dear old(er) man sitting on your front porch in a fuzzy brown bathrobe this 34-degree morning as i drove home from the gym: yes, you did look a little odd, cold, and perhaps a bit disheveled. but if i could walk out my front door and enjoy the view you have of snow-covered mt. timpanogos i would probably breakfast on my front porch in my pajamas, too.

enjoy the view.

and thanks for wearing pants.

i am grateful that most people wear pants.

and i feel blessed to find pleasure, amusement, a smile or an outright giggle in the simple things in life:

like yesterday when, already half an hour after i had wanted to be home, someone with a pay scale much higher than mine adopted a laissez faire attitude over an error on an account for one of our biggest clients. i wasn’t willing to let it slide and was determined to make it right. but it wasn’t until co-workers started passing cheetos (i only ate two) over my cubicle and offering me chocolate (it was really bad chocolate but i ate a piece anyway) and saying, “here, want a burnt cookie?” (yeah, i ate that, too.) that i realized i may not have been exactly subtle in my frustration or my doggedness. at least i didn’t go all max hall on the guy.

or the fact that this bank robber politely removed his “disguise” of sunglasses and ski hat when asked by the teller to do so and then presented her with the note demanding she remove money from the till. i also love that he was wearing camo. you know, so he would blend in with the bank decor.

or when i was presented with this wordy but polite message in reader today:

Sorry, an unexpected condition has occurred which is preventing Google Reader from fulfilling the request.

read: page load error.

or as i watched my neighbor walk out to the sidewalk this morning in a short, thin, pink housecoat to get the newspaper. housecoats entertain me. so does the color pink.

this just in from sister pottymouth elicited a giggle from me as well.

whatever helps me make it through the week, right?

what’s making you smile today?

p.s. speaking of housecoats, here’s a little shout-out to my friend c jane. who turns 30 (again) today. every year i buy her a shamrock cookie from provo bakery in honor of her birthday. i eat it for her, too. cuz i’m nice like that.

not speaking of housecoats, here’s a shout-out to my friend b. you know why. i love you!

today’s assignment

photo courteously stolen from formerly phread you’ll see why in a minute

surprises.

i have mixed feelings about surprises.

i never wanted to know what gender the baby was when i was pregnant. i wanted to have something to look forward to after what was inevitably an extra long pregnancy and a long labor–there is something to be said for that “it’s a boy” or “it’s a girl” moment at the end of all that pushing.

but i don’t exactly want people showing up at the house to stay for the weekend after a crazy week during which the house has been turned upside down and/or neglected. and that would be like the week that was the whole last summer.

i really hate those surprises you get in the mail that inform you that you are late for a payment due on an overdraft you didn’t know you had or that you owe even more taxes.

or that punched-in-the gut i-can’t-breathe feeling you get when you find out someone you love has been in a terrible accident or has cancer. too much of those kind of surprises lately. please stop already.

that said, there have been a couple of good surprises i can recall. one of them happened to me. one of them happened for a friend:

my birthday is three days before christmas. as you might imagine, this is not the best time to get friends together for a birthday party. so i grew up never having them. (birthday parties, not friends.)

then one busy holiday season foggy almost-christmas eve a few years ago my friend melody decided she wanted to get some of my friends together for lunch. i told her not to worry about it because people were too busy (and i really was fine with that–it’s what i knew). she made plans anyway and promised me people would come. i told her it wouldn’t be the same if she had to drag hungry people in off the streets. (ok, it was funny at the time and melody laughed.)

you can imagine my surprise, then, when i walked in to macaroni grill on a cold day in december and saw a long table full of some two dozen (that’s like 24) women from my neighborhood. i almost cried. i hope they knew how much it meant to me. it’s one thing to gather a few friends together on some random thursday in the middle of novemberwhere. but when double digits worth of people i know and love would give up a part of their one-of-the-last-shopping-days-before-christmas (es) to celebrate the day i was born, well, that means something.

my heart was warmed again when, last year, at least a dozen of my friends braved one of the most beautiful and treacherous snow storms blizzards of the season to do the same.

i am blessed with good friends in my life.

the other party that comes to mind every time I hear the word birthday paired with the word surprise is ~j’s 30th birthday surprise. you can read about it here. (i started at the end, but you really should start at the beginning and read the whole thing. it was awesome!)

my luke turned 20 on tuesday. it was the first birthday ever on which i wasn’t able to give him a big hug or make him his favorite–a tart cherry pie (believe me, one handed or not, had he been here, i would have found a way). i don’t think he even got any of his presents, which were mostly simple gifts like cheesecake mixes, dried mangoes and a couple of mo tab cds. he probably didn’t have cake, but i hope he at least got a card or two.

i miss that kid. but i sure love reading his missionary e-mails. i love his pure heart and his earnest desire to be good. this world needs more people who just want to be good. i especially love how he is aware of his faults and not afraid to name them and say, “please pray for me. i want to do better.” what an honor it was for me to watch this boy allow truth to change his heart. to be a witness while this son–born in the covenant–chose to become truly converted to the gospel of Jesus Christ and leave his home and family and his country to share the truths in his heart with people in the u.k.

luke has been out almost a year now. by the end of the month i will starting marking the days on the big chart that’s pinned to the wall of his long empty bedroom. i haven’t been able to bring myself to do that yet. not until i knew there would be less days to mark than those that have passed.

part of me realizes luke will come home just in time to turn around and get an apartment and move away again. probably for good. but it will be nice to at least know he is near. close enough for a phone call or to come home and do laundry or to be invited over for dinner. i will still get to hear his voice and look up to him–this tall man who used to be my baby. and feel his loving arms wrapped around me.

today i was reminded of the little boy luke. of a time when instead of missionary work his thoughts were filled with wings. butterfly wings. luke’s interests have varied since then, but i think he has always known –whether it was monarchs, basketball, the stars, music or a mission — that i will always love him and encourage him to go after his dreams, even though it will mean moving further away from me. he knows he will never be far from my mother heart.

i know i’ve said this before, but fly luke. fly.

p.s. the little girl in the butterfly boy story photo? yeah, that’s this girl. they grow up people. i’m tellin’ ya.

I’ve missed a couple of birthdays–hopefully the words will come to write those. But this one needs to be written. Since I don’t scrapbook, these tiny tributes will be all my kids get from me.

Suze (in the black shirt and blondish curls, top right) and crazy friends at 8th grade promotion–in the next frame they have all fallen down at the hand of the boy on the far right

It’s about six a.m. on the morning of my only daughter’s fourteenth birthday. I’m sitting up on my niece’s bed, the window next to me is open and my ears are tuned both to steady fall of an early morning rain and the steady rise and fall of Suze’s breath (Suze is short for Suzie Q, one of my favorite nicknames for L~).

Around my niece’s room are stacks of books I have known and loved my entire life.

Twain. Tolstoy. Poe.

Even my favorite childhood book–Mandy. By Julie Andrews (yes, the Mary Poppins one) Edwards.

And of course, several volumes of Harry Potter in hardback.

I can’t wait for her return from a weekend activity so we can discuss these books and exchange recommendations.

It could be tempting to lament the fact that–at least at the moment–this is not the type of conversation I could have with my own daughter. (Although she does stand with me when it comes to discussing Twilight–the book. I think she liked the movie somewhat.)

But when I look down at the now mostly calm and still form of Suze–a form that, when awake, is almost constantly bursting with activity and exuding an uncontainable passion for life–I am content. Content to experience and enjoy and appreciate the way kids come the way they are.

And some kids are not afraid to be who they are.

Suze is one of those kids. And I love her for it.

Recently she spent the afternoon running errands with me. The entire time–and she did this with a completely straight face–she was sporting the big boxy three-D glasses she got at the movie Up. She knocked out the lenses a week ago and she loves to wear the frames. Just because they are there and because she can. And she doesn’t care at all what anyone thinks.

I like that.

Several years ago Suze played goalie for a competition soccer league. It was her first time playing soccer–she’d been recruited by the mother of one of the other players on her first softball team. They wanted her because even at the tender age of ten she wasn’t afraid of the ball.

That’s one of the things I love about Suze. She may be afraid of the dark. Of creepy clown slasher movies. And of being left alone at the mall…

But she is not afraid of the ball.

She lives. She loves. (Sometimes she hates–but really she is just angry). She does everything she does with passion and gusto…and a certain joie de vivre. Her spirit is larger than life and–I’ve come to discover over the years–it cannot be contained.

Often at the end of the day I find myself wiped out and completely drained of, well, everything. That’s when almost inevitably Suze will bound into my bedroom to tell me something about her day. Only she doesn’t just tell. She practically acts it out. (There is no library voice for Suze. It’s loud and it’s live and it’s full of energy no matter what the time of day.) She uses words like amazing and funny and oh my gosh and you can actually hear the ALL CAPS in her voice. Suddenly I find myself invigorated and infused with her same energy.

Among the many things Suze does well, she is also the fastest prayer in the west. She can belt out an entire prayer in the time it takes some people to express the salutation. But somehow she still manages to be sincere about it and she always remembers to bless her older brother, Luke, that he will have a good time on his mission. That may seem silly to some. But if you knew Luke and know how serious his serious side is, you would also know that this blessing is exactly what Luke needs.

One of the other things I love about Suze (there are many) is her honesty. While in her earlier years she could call my bluff to involve teachers, witnesses and even the police, etc. to hold on to a lie longer than anyone I have ever seen, she can be starkly honest about other people and about herself. She doesn’t like to play games and even while a child she could see through people’s m.o.s and call it the way she saw it. She doesn’t hesitate to apply that same directness to herself sometimes–in such a way that completely captures my heart. Sometimes her passion puts her at odds with me, resulting in some pretty intense moments. When the fireworks have died down she won’t just apologize because she has to. She will wait until she can say it and mean it.

Suze doesn’t hesitate to tell me to my face that she is trying really hard to be kind and respectful to me, but that sometimes I just make her so mad.

I admire that kind of honesty. With all my heart.

Happy Birthday Suze!

We’re spending it on Cannon Beach. I cannot help but liken the impossibility of being able to hold back the waves to that of holding back the passion and energy of this daughter of mine. And who would want to?

May 12 is Limerick Day. (We celebrate it on this day because it is the birthday of Edward Lear, who, apparently was a huge fan.)

I’m all about celebrating birthdays, so please humor me and the distinguished Mr. Lear (may he rest in peace and with a darn good limerick chiseled onto his tombstone) by leaving me a limerick in the comments section.

There could be prizes involved.

(If you need a little help, see the how-to at WikiHow.)

Happy Limerick Day!

Happy Birthday to the artist formerly known as Z~. Zack just became kid #2 to transition from kidhood to so-called adulthood (I say so-called because all that changes are the responsibilities–it’s not like I feel any more grown-up and I’ve been playing house at being grown-up for quite awhile now).

Wow!

Where does the time go?

Just last year he went to his first prom and had his first date with this cute girl:

Just last night he went to his last prom.

And with the same cute girl:

And I kind of like them like that.

He had a sweet ride with his friend Mr. PHS:photo op only, he actually rode in the minivan. but it appears we’re moving up in the world. his little sister rode home from promenade in a block-long hummer limo. suh-weet!

Zack made his grand entrance down the grand staircase at the Library at Academy Square in typical Zack style–sliding down the banister. Because he could. And because not everyone else was doing it. Of course he entertained the resulting wardrobe malfunction with the same easy-going attitude that is characteristic of much of his life thus far. Were we not land-locked, I’m fairly certain Zack would have been the ultimate surfer dude.

And that’s part of what makes him so fun to be around. That and the fact that he’s really smart. He’s a thinker. He’s a nice kid. He’s funny. He can do just about anything he sets his mind to. And play any kind of instrument he picks up. Zack is one of those people who just goes for it. I don’t know about you, but I enjoy spending time with people like that.

Over the past year Zack also picked up an interest in photography. I know I’ve said this before, but I enjoy seeing the world through his eyes. I can’t wait to see what’s next.

Shane coming in from what we call “the lower 40″ after feeding the pigeons

To think just a few short months ago the trees were bare, the snow was deep, and our world had just turned a bit upside down.

Now tiny green buds are unfolding, our grass is the greenest on the block and we’re starting to regain our bearings.

A few short years ago (four, to be exact), I gave Shane more of a thank-you card than a birthday card on April 1st. I thanked him for making it to age 45.

This year my perspective has shifted a bit with experience and my gratitude for his sticking around runs a whole lot deeper—more than words can say.

So I’ll simply add my heartfelt Happy Birthday to the hundred and fifty so that resonated through a small cultural hall somewhere out in the vast Uintah Basin today (where family had gathered together after laying Shane’s sweet grandmother to rest) and to the numerous calls coming in via landline and cellular at the moment of our return to our happy home in P-town (the most recent from a student Shane taught in 1982–the kid has called with birthday wishes every year except the two he was in Australia serving a mission).

Happy Birthday, Shane!