i’m posting on parenting over at segullah today. please come.

wherein i tell you…

i got my first e-mail today.

it was short and sweet and i loved every word.

i also loved that he had his first fish and chips.

and they were real chips.

yeah baby.

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and also the daughter got her learner’s permit.

i actually let her drive my sienna.

you all know how i feel about my sienna.

i hope my daughter knows howloudlyitscreams I LOVE YOU! when i let her drive the swagger wagon.

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and right now i’m looking at flight plans.

from manchester, england to slc.

august 19.

yeah baby!

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.

zack playing the cajon or “big box” and the tambourine

i glance at the silent drum pad resting on the chaise and unwanted tears well up. it’s going to be quiet for a very long time.

i still remember when one summer, as a short 7th-grade boy, zack emphatically stated, “i’m going to learn to play the sax.” we bought a beat-up used alto sax from a friend and before i could sign him up for summer band he’d learned his first song.

before the summer was out he made jazz band.

the instruments he’s taught himself to play and the bands he’s played in since are too numerous to name. but he picked up one of my favorites as a junior in high school when he tried out for the high school drumline. i wondered how on earth he was going to practice drums at home, but he soon borrowed my credit card (of all my children, he is also the most familiar with my credit card, but he usually pays me back) to purchase a drum pad and some sticks.

soon our home was filled with the rat-a-tat-tat of incessant drumbeats. even better–i spent countless road trips feeling to my core the pulse of percussion he tapped out as he beat the sticks in time on the back of my seat in the car.

most of you who read my blog know what happened from there. you also know i became the ultimate band mom, attending almost every performance and chaperoning every tour. never tiring of watching and hearing him play–whatever instrument, in whatever band.

zack playing cymbals as part of the byu drumline

zack giving up the music he loves for two years to go forth and serve his God and the people of england.

the quiet he will leave behind will be deafening.

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i still remember when one year, as a bright and curious 8th grader, zack excitedly reported to me that his science teacher had invited a guest to class that day. some sort of an expert in animals, i believe. the scientist thought it would be interesting to quiz the kids on various species and had brought some change to reward right answers with a quarter.

zack took him to the cleaners.

ever observant and appreciative of nature, zack can spot an interesting bird–osprey, bald eagle, whatever–from anywhere.

as i watch zack prepare to leave the nest i try to avoid contemplating the ache in my mother heart that the consequent empty space will bring. from the time a few summers back he left us to go work at fish lake to last summer when he left us several times to help run trips on the snake river, zack’s solo flights have always been longer and further than those of any of the others. his eyes seem eager to search for further horizons without looking back. his wings seem to feel the need to stretch further as well. i admit that our respective wings have bumped a bit lately, as he seems to have outgrown the nest and expresses a longing to fly.

zack would likely tell me i’m reading too much into what simply is. he may be right about that. or maybe not.

he will be deeply missed all the same.

it’s started already.

a couple of weeks ago a widowed sister in my ward stopped me in the hall at church.

“i’d like to buy a suit for your son for his mission.”

she wasn’t the first.

another widow–this one whose husband has been gone since before i was born–purchased a raincoat for luke before he left on his mission. luke had been her home teacher.

she pressed a check of equal value into zack’s grateful hands well over a month ago.

while we do live in what may seem to be your average–as far as incomes go–but aging middle-class neighborhood, we continue to be stunned and enormously grateful for the extraordinary generosity extended to us by our friends and neighbors. widows, widowers, a couple of small business owners, educators, contractors, only one attorney and maybe a couple of accountants. everyday people reaching into their not-so-deep pockets to help us outfit and send off another missionary.

just now i responded to a knock on the door. a retired gentleman greeted me. we are not well acquainted, but there he stood, extending an envelope with zack’s name written across it. i know what’s in it without even opening it. there will be more of the same next week after zack speaks in church just days before flying to the mtc in preston. i say this not because it is an expectation, but simply because it’s what the people around here do. they–even those who are currently supporting their own missionaries–do the same for all of the missionaries.

my good friend lil just came to the door to get some fresh eggs. we visited for a few minutes. lil and her husband, phil, though barely returned from serving as missionaries in New Orleans, currently serve what is almost a full-time mission in another area of town.

lil pressed a check into my hand.

“we’re sorry we can’t be there next week. will you please give this to zack?”