What I Learned On My Summer Vacation

As another summer rolls to its close, it's time for my beginning of the school year report.  The first week of May Steve had foot surgery.  The surgery had complications and because of that, our summer has taken on a very different shape from prior years.  Judging by our activities, we were not only empty nesters, but apparently we were about 75 years old.  Steve has used a wheel chair, crutches, cane and of course hobbling to get from point a to point b for the past 4 months.

Here are some of the things that I learned:

• I can be trusted with a lawn mower.  (I have suspected this for years).  Steve had always jealously guarded the tending of the lawn.  I have never known if this was from the fact that he was protective of me... or protective of the lawn.   But I've taken on this weekly task and kind of enjoy the process... and dog gone it, both the lawn and myself look just fine.
• I cannot be trusted with a week whacker.  (Steve has suspected this for years).  After having real success with the whole lawn mowing thing, I was ready to move up to edging the lawn.  I soon learned it was either the weed whacker or me.  After a 90 minute epic battle, the two of us parted company, each a little worse for wear.  So please, come enjoy the look of our lovely lawn, just pay no attention to the long grasses along the edges. 
• Elvis Presley is not a great actor.  I know!  I was shocked too.  But no matter how large a part The King played in Steve's youth, I am still eternally grateful that the Elvis Marathon on TMC is now over.  Steve has watched more old movies in the past four months than you can imagine.  That Elvis weekend was a real low point.  Steve did love being sucked back in time to when his parents would pile in all the kids into the station wagon in their jammies to watch Jail House Rock or Girl Crazy at the Drive In... and unfortunately, I had to pay the price for that this summer.
• I love coming home to having Steve perennially perched on the couch!   One thing that I really came to enjoy that whenever I flew in from work, my walk, a meeting, Steve was right there... typically with the Remote in hand.  He continued to entertain me from this spot on the left end of the couch.  When he finally went back to work part time, I was amazed at how sad I was to come home to no Sofa Sentry.  I missed his laughter and his interest in my day... even when his own day had been quiet, boring and lonely.
• Steve can be focused, to a fault.  He is reading "Killer Angels" a novel of Gettysburg.  You would think that the battle is still raging.  Steve is so upset with Buehl and so saddened for Longstreet... "why won't they listen to him?"  I keep reminding him that the battle was was over about 150 years ago... and that by most accounts, it's good that the north won... but Steve is still pretty stressed about the whole thing.  That brings me to the last great thing I learned this summer:
• I need to learn to be more in the moment.  More present in my own life.  For 27 years I've considered myself "the efficient one" of the two of us.  I can cram a lot into my day and feel good about myself in the evening when I've accomplished things from an imaginary list in my head.  I've often been frustrated when I'm waiting in the car while Steve was still getting ready.    I finally realized this summer that Steve has a quality of stillness that I lack.  He "is where he is" with few distractions and no apology.   So often when I'm participating in one activity, I'm spending half my energy planning the next one.  Sometimes I swear that I'm sitting above myself critiquing my behavior.  As I've watched Steve patiently handle a very slowed pace of life, I realize that he's been able to handle it so gracefully because he doesn't rush himself and doesn't judge himself by some ridiculous list.   

So my goal this fall is to take it all a bit more and not judge my self worth by how full my day is.  Thanks Steve for the lesson.  (I do still reserve the right to sigh and roll my eyes when I am waiting for him in the car).

Happy Happy Birthday Brian Dear!

Our Brian turns 20 tomorrow.  Of course he is always, always in our thoughts, but this week it's with an added measure.

Being Brian's mom has always brought so much laughter and joy... & just a touch of embarrassment from time to time!  Though this is the first year of Brian's life that we haven't spent physically together, I feel like I've learned so much about him in the past 11 months and 6 days (who's counting, right?).  The things I've learned most about him are about his character.

I've always known that Brian had a sunny disposition.  I've known that he is positive & optimistic by nature since he was an infant.  But I never realized just how deeply that ran.  I've come to see in the last year that even in times of incredible testing and challenge, Brian looks for, and finds the good.  He taught me a huge lesson this year in an email he sent me.  In responding to my question, "was this week a good one, or was it hard?"  He returned this thought to me that has rung in my ears ever since, "Mom, are you crazy????  Don't you know it can be both?"  I'll never forget that wisdom.

I've also learned a lot about the depth of Brian's faith.  I always sensed faith and conviction within him, but Brian has been one to hold those precious things close to his heart.  And so I silently prayed all through Brian's teenager years that he would be quietly gaining a testimony of His Savior.  Oh, how this prayer has been answered.  When Brian received his mission call, I was terrified.  How could he learn these two incredible difficult languages and then serve in such a challenging place?  I'm pretty sure Brian was a little terrified himself.  Being able to watch Brian tap into his faith and rely on his Savior this past year has been one of the great privileges of my life.  His work and prayers have brought about miracles that I couldn't imagine.  Brian's faith has strengthened mine.  His efforts have strengthened my resolved.  His service strengthens me... from 6000 miles away.

So on the eve of my son's 20th birthday, I give thanks to a loving Heavenly Father.  I thank Him for giving me 19 years with a son who brought more joy and happiness to his parents than was imaginable to me back in 1989.  And I'm thankful, as well, for the past year being physically apart.  I'm thankful for the unique lessons that Brian is learning from this sacred experience and I'm especially grateful that I'm able to learn a few of them as well.  Maybe Missionary Work is Vicarious Work in its own way.

I Give Thanks. 

Water Babies II

Last weekend we had a Rowley Reunion.  It had been too long since we'd been together.  I forgot just how fun... and how loud we are when we get together.  It really was a blast.  Because the weather was hot and beautiful, and because the kids have the coolest grandparents EVER, a slip and slide miraculously appeared in the heat of the afternoon.  The kids were hysterical together...  Let's not wait three years to do this again!

Elizabeth Rowley making it look like water ballet

Cole and Mark Rowley 

Cole Edgell, or as I call him "Colby, Swiss and Cheddar" - Funniest Kid on the Planet

Brett Edgell

Mom and Dad and their 7 Children

With Spouses

and Grandkids!

Water Babies

Last weekend we took a beautiful drive through the Pass to Bruce and Gail's.  We had such a wonderful visit with cinnamon rolls (Gail totally spoils Steve), Chicken "Divin" and incredible company.  One thing you can always count on with Bruce and Gail:  where they are, their Grandchildren will not be far behind.  Enjoying pool time with Gibson and Madison was awesome!  I thought these shots were irresistible!

Who is having more fun??  Uncle Bryce Rocks.

Gibson jumping to Uncle Doug

Please note the water level in the goggles.

I've Made a Terrible Mistake

Sure.  Facebook seems like a good idea.  

Every one is talking about it: 

•  "You can get back in touch with really old friends", [with the implicit advantage of choosing only images of yourself that hide your wrinkles and those lb's that you've gained since you've last seen these old friends ]
•  "You can keep in touch with younger and hipper co-workers and nieces and nephews..."  
• And the surveys?  Heaven!  What's not to love? 

Well, an hour and a half in and I already have serious buyers remorse.

No one tells you the dark side:  getting 45 emails in seven minutes and being unable  to understand how to respond to the people who haven't bothered to contact you via a visit, phone call, or blog comment (you know who you are).

All of the sudden I am in the middle of 27 "conversations" most of whom are between people that I DON'T KNOW.  I can't keep up.  I'm confused. I now understand what it is like to be Doug Beagley at a family reunion.

I just want my blog....   I can take a week and a half to complete my entry if I choose.  No one interrupts me.  It's peaceful here.

Ahhhh.  I feel better already.

p.s.  and beware to all my younger and hipper family and friends:  if I'm on Facebook, it can no longer be cool.  Sell Facebook. 

Red, Whitish & Blue

NOTHING says  Patriotism more than Cherry, Lemon and Berry Blast Jello!  

I'm proud to say that this recipe is a Rowley Fourth of July tradition.  They may have taken our sparkler bombs and mortars with the recent fireworks ban, but they will not separate us from the tackiest dessert known to man.  It doesn't look good (as you can see), it doesn't taste good (as our guests can attest), but it screams America!  Sure Maine and the Great Northwest invariably slip off the plate and this year, we had a real problem with Texas drooping before Berry Blast was set, causing a tidal wave of blue sugar water on my freshly mopped floors.  But it was worth all the blood, sweat and three tiers to see this baby pop out of the mold and hear the ooh's and ahh's (or were those gasps?) of our fortunate guests.  Invariably there are turf wars (kind of like those in the game of Risk or between the Jets and the Sharks?) over who gets New York or California... standing rule is that you must have lived in a state to claim it as your own.  BTW, Cudo's to the rookie Tyler for taking it to Veteran Attendee Kory and staking claim to Florida.  Impressive.  Most Impressive. 

It's Manifest Destiny all over again.  I know that by this point you are unconsciously humming "I'm Proud to be an American"... and that's okay..  I understand.

If you are lucky enough to be invited to this social event of the summer next year, you may have the opportunity of savoring these bursts of flavor and celebrating the birth of our nation in the only way it was meant to be celebrated...  With J-E-L-L-O.  It will be worth the 365 days of anticipation.  But, if in the meantime you can't wait for your favorite shimmering dessert, you can pop down to Utah where it is always plentiful... the Jello may be green, but there will be lovely shredded carrots in it... and you can get it every day of the year.

God Bless the USA.

Whenever I Think About Pioneers

This month in church, we will be teaching the children of our ward about Mormon Pioneers and their trek across country to Utah. I love pioneer stories and have ever since I was a child. I love stories of their bravery, their humor and their quirks. While I don't believe I have any ancestors who crossed the plains, I feel like these incredible individuals are my heritage too.

I love that Steve comes from good ole' Pioneer Stock on both sides of his family. I chose an excerpt from a journal of a member of the Abraham Smoot Company. Steve's Great Great (I've lost track of the number of "Greats" to insert) Grandpa Ralph Nephi Rowley traveled in this same company. (Ralph loved Nephi so much he changed his middle name to honor him upon joining the church).

I love imagining little Levi and his mother bumping into the Rowley clan on a daily basis on that long dusty trail...
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Trail Excerpt:

Mormon Pioneer Overland Travel, 1847–1868
Source:
Wolstenholme, Levi, Life Sketch of Levi Wolstenholme Sr. 2.

The saints finally started for Utah. Mother, now a tiny woman weighing no more than 98 pounds was a widow with we three children to care for. I was the youngest. Just three years old and I had grown to be a fat huskey youngster. We came to Salt Lake in Abram Smoot's company. My parents had joined what was known as the ten pound company while in England therefore our transportation was paid. Nevertheless my mother had to walk a great portion of the way and also carried me. I have often heard my sister Lavinia and brother Daniel tell of how mother would pick up cloths on her way and when night came would sit down, and take off her worn shoes. She then would wash her bleeding feet and wrap them up again in the cloths she had picked up. We finally arrived in Salt Lake City in the fall of 1852.

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Kind of puts things into perspective, huh? I'll try not to whine if the bus is crowded on the commute home today... Even though I reallllllly miss my parking pass.