A Tribute to My Mother!

Mama, Mommy, Madre, Mamma, Mom, Mother, Hammy Shan!

Well, with the exception of the year I spent away from my family while I was out serving people, this will be the first time I am not with my mother for Mother's day. I miss her. And since I think that all too often we reserve our cherished memories or sweet reminisces until it is too late, I present to you:
A Tribute to My Mother
My mother has taught me a great deal about life. She is survivor. I can't even begin to think how hard this particular Mother's day will be--she lost her 'baby boy' last year--he went back to be with our loving Father in Heaven. Both my mother's parents have also left this mortal life. The holidays are a time of mixed emotions, but I am going to focus on the wonderful ones!

This is my mother as a little girl:
Isn't she beautiful?!? (don't worry mom, I won't put the year on it ;)

My mother is the second oldest child, the oldest girl and there are eight children in her family (five boys and three girls). As the oldest girl she grew up very quickly and learned to many things well to help out her family. This benefited her (and me) very greatly because she learned to be a great hostess--I learned to throw the best dinner parties and have people over. I love cooking with my mother. Only a few rules--if I taste the food too many times she'll threaten to smack me--but never will. Always cook too much food and always tell the story about when my "cousin Chad ate all the mashed potatoes" or when "Uncle Matt had to eat all his other food first because he liked Cranberries SO much..." Ah yes... and then we play "FAT DOG" together--What's not to love?!? Sammy eating world famous BBQ ribs!!!

My mother was very close to her older brother Lynn--he died 22 years ago. I never really thought about the impact this must have had on my mother because I was so little at the time--but even then--she did all she could for his six children, so much that we remain closer to them then many of our relatives. Only one example of my mother's great love.
This is a picture of her with her with Lynn.

Again--the most adorable little girl--that's my Mother :)

My Mom grew up in Bountiful (I found out recently that when she was tiny she actually lived in Georgia? when my Grandfather was in the service--kinda cool). They lived a couple blocks south and a block or so west of Winegars Grocery store on Orchard Drive. She Graduated from Bountiful High--the same school all her children attended (some of us learned a little more than others--Brad.) People from high school still remember and love her--and that says quite a bit cause that was a few years back ;)

My mom then attended Utah State and Weber State?!? She had already learned many life skills from all she did to help out at home--skills that are foreign to me--like how to sew a button on ;) My Mother has a beautiful singing voice! She sings alto and should have tried out for the Mormon Tabernacle Choir! She has served in various teaching and leadership positions in the church--which can't be easy without the support she deserved at home. My mother was never honored or cherished the way she deserved to be in marriage--she has helped me to see that a shared commitment to and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ is far more important than anything else. She also taught me from a very young age--that even if on the way to the temple you are not sure about the decision you are making--DO NOT GET MARRIED--I wonder if I keep getting older and remain single if she will withdraw that claim? Doubtful. My mother is incredibly beautiful! One of the guys I dated in high school saw a picture of my mom and said he would totally have dated her--I wasn't really sure how I should take that..? But it is true, see for your self:

Now I just want to brag a little about my mom. She is the most honest individual I have ever met. I learned from her at a very young age that you have one option: integrity. When I was about five years old, we went to buy dinner at a little diner in downtown Bountiful called "Eat-A-Burger." They gave us an extra order of french fries: 75 cents. She drove right back down and paid for them. I remember waiting tables about 2 blocks from there in high school and chasing after a young couple who had left over 100$ wait, wait, let me get you change I said--they'd left it on purpose and thanked me for the best/most honest service they had ever had--that was a credit to my mother.

Nightmares: I was born when my parents were getting older (that is a fact ;) and not really expecting another child--but I knew my mom really wanted a girl--She already had 3 little boys: Matt, Brad and Scott (Matt was adopted as a baby when she didn't think was able to have children.) And I must say "nightmares" does not refer to the frilly dresses, girlish pinks, silly sponge rollers, crazy dance classes and mini-cheerleading clinics she used to try to convince me to enjoy--but I had really bad dreams as a little kid and my mommy used to rock me in the rocker in the living room, "the piano room" as I called it. She would sing me songs and tell me stories and rock me to sleep. I remember being about five and going into my room and saying I went to sleep and had a bad dream and getting her to rock me--I guess that must have been before my lesson in honesty... I just wanted her to rock me to sleep.


Giving: My mother would give you her heart. When we would eat watermelon on hot summer days--my mom always saved the best for last--unlike me--I devoured it first. But if I asked her to share with me--she always gave me the heart. Much the same with steak--she would cook a T-bone and give the tenderloin to the child whether it was me or my nieces and nephew. When I was on my mission and my mom didn't have a lot financially--she would send me money and tell me she was just wanting to do something nice for me. She wrote me at least once a week the whole time I was gone.

Kindness: When my great-grandma was alive we used to cut a tree out of our yard and put it up with her for Christmas. My mom would take us kids to visit "Grandma B" whenever the boys went to the Orthodontist in Sugar House. When grandma B died it was the first time i lost someone I loved--I didn't understand--I was in the 3rd grade and i cried a lot. My mom slept downstairs on the couch with me and just let me cry--she cried with me. I have since learned that grief grows out of love and you cannot avoid either and live a meaningful life.

Birthdays: It doesn't matter who you are--if my mom has heard your birthday once--she'll remember it--she may even send you a card or an e-mail. I think she has this photographic memory that applies especially to birthdays. And well, since today is Stockton's birthday--I just wanted to put this picture here!

Service: My mother has never turned down a call to serve. Even when she got called to work in the temple on Saturdays--mind you--she works five days a week and doesn't work or recreate on the sabbath--and is the head of a single-parent household--Saturday was her only day to do things like work in the yard--but she did it to serve God. Just like today when she is teaching Sunday School and meeting with the Bishop before church--and she probably didn't even want to go to church--but she will.

Legs: My mom has the nicest legs ever--lucky for me--I inherited them. Once our old bishop even announced that she had the nicest legs... again...how do you respond to that?

(Mine is the one on the right...Did I mention I inherited the same humor ;)

Humor: My mom is funny. If you get her going on a cheeky roll--you better watch out--she can dish it. Especially recently she seems to say it how it is--like when my uncle (who isn't the best brother to my mom) showed up and was pretending to care because he wanted something--she just plain said--don't act like you care--what do you want? Or the time we were at one of my friend (boy's) houses and she told him how it had been her dying mother's wish that I marry him--I said she is funny--I didn't say that sometimes I feel a little awkward after ;)

Just a really cute picture of Samantha the day my mom and I took her to have her pictures taken--we took her into the hall and this woman stopped to say--oh how beautiful she is--and Sammy belched right then she was so excited about the Pepsi display--I don't know what the woman thought after that...)


If you try to get her on the phone--you're probably wasting your time--if you are the mailman you already know that she gets more magazines than any other Utah resident. If you want to see the "sexy bikini walk" you are going to have to ask her... but if you want to see a mother that through a lot of hardship has really tried to love her children while respecting their use of agency--that's mia mamma--a nickname she earned while I lived in Italy--because together she and I make better pizza than the natives!

And mind you--she is the greatest "hammy shan" in the world! She loves her little Sydney, Stockton and Samantha so much! She sends them packages--and buys them jamies, and reads them stories, and let's them tear her house apart, and walks the floor with them at night and lets them climb in bed with her (and then kick her in the side all night--I'm sorry we're all "wiggle worms," recently she drove straight through 12 states with me to Florida. (we went through Ohio to see the little ones) and she played dress up with the kids--we were SO tired--but she put her whole heart into loving and playing with them while we were there!


I LOVE YOU ALL THE WAY TO HEAVEN, AND SO DO THEY!!!

Orange Seashells for Stockton!!!

The story that made some laugh and scoff... soon to come!!!

Love, Basketball & Over Time

forty-one seconds left in regulation, down by 5, after some lame attempts by the Jazz for three's, the game seems to be slipping away...they start to pull it together, with 10 seconds left, down by 3, Okur steps inside the 3-point line scores 2, down by one, a foul, missed shot, the Jazz tie it up--OVERTIME!

In the first 58 seconds of OT the Jazz take a five point run, stay on top and come out 127 to 117! Fisher who was in New York this morning when his little girl had a tumor removed came in to help them out. The reporter had the nerve to ask him how he divides his loyalties--he said without hesitation "my family and my faith come first."

I stood by the bar in the Cheesecake Factory in South Florida and was the only one going nuts over the game. I think all the men thought I wanted them--no--I wanted the game. Which I proved as I politely, but with a just amount of annoyance ignored the multiple attempts to find out "what brings me to Florida," and "why I like basketball." Another word to the wise: Men, if a girl is into her game, and it's a push in regulation and then overtime--LEAVE HER ALONE--talking to her will only bother her--that is why there are commercials.

The fast fury of mixed emotions that buried me can be pretty well summed up with my game tonight. Sometimes you miss some crucial shots. Sometimes it feels like you're playing one man down, sometimes it seems like you just can't hit the clutch shot. Sometimes your head and your heart are not in the game. Today was a losing day. I was still in the game, but just hanging on by a thread--down far enough to feel the pressure of the clock and the fans and the other players and the media looking at me thinking--man what was that?

I love that Fisher shows up straight from the airport with his family in toe and gives the team the "emotional lift" they needed to pull them through the difficult time. Those emotional lifts were all around me tonight--with the exception of the time spent around a kid I ?dated? who doesn't know how to read the gray tones in my eyes that say, "I'm sad, be gentle, I may cry," no, he's so self-absorbed that he wouldn't notice another person's pain if Yanni wrote a song about it and played it for him on the Yacht.

There was the good friend who showed up at just the right time, or came to find me when I ditched the 18 people we were with and bailed to a balcony for some fresh air, it was a funny text from a friend at that precise moment in time, another friend who knows the week has been brutal and is going to Gainsville this Friday said I could catch a ride with him if I want to go to Orlando and visit the happiest place on earth ;)[I love that it sounds like DisneyWorld...]

From a book on surviving: "take it a day at a time and if you can't handle a day at a time, take it an hour at a time."

Let's just say that the hour broke into minutes, the minutes collapsed into seconds, the seconds seemed to drag like the clock in overtime. You could cut them into pieces and each one came with the conscious decision to put one foot in front of the other and breathe--and each breath had to be forced past the heavy constricted sinews of sadness and anxiety that grasp both body and spirit. *memory: when I was training for the St. George Marathon, and I called Scott to complain that it was hard and my legs hurt and i didn't want to do it anymore, and he said, "Remember Ash, it's just one foot in front of the other..." and then characteristic of him, in his little sarcastic aside, "it's just like running to your friends house--only you're friend lives really far away, do you have any friends." Of course by then, I'd forgotten that my legs hurt.

I woke up not knowing which way was up. I didn't know what to do with myself, so I picked up a book about God and started to read. I figured he suffered everything, so he's probably a pretty good source to turn to when I feel like no one understands, or when people tell me to "get over it" or "just snap out of it..." After reading a while and still feeling pretty despondent, my phone rang, and it was my angelic neighbor Maria who was calling to drag me out for a walk with her. It was a good reminder that God loves me and is aware, even if the pain can't just magically disappear like so many think it should. We live in a world where everything nearly-- everything is instantaneous--guess what--somethings require time and patience and just plain endurance.

I thought about that as I faced my daily option of the stairs or the elevator. I take the stairs about 7 times a day--I live on the 7th floor--that's a lot of stairs. Today i was tired and I just wanted to take the easy way up. But as I thought about it, I realized that although the stairs are not the quick fix, they require effort, it's hot, it takes time--such exercise also conditions. It strengthens, it enhances, purifies and in the end--I am better off for having done them.

I biked for a couple hours and walked until I'd wandered around long enough, and spent some time just soaking in as much sunlight as I could, then I read a book. My mind wasn't really in it, but it made me feel like I could label the day almost productive. I did a few nice things for my neighbors to try and boost my spirit (I know kind of selfishly motivated, but if you know me, you know my love for serving other people runs just as thick through my veins as the pain that propels me through life right now. I wrote my mom a little note, I miss her, I wish I could take away her pain--especially as Mother's Day approaches. I don't like holidays anymore and I hope I can get to the point where i do--as of now they just make me want to have my brother's over and cook for them and together eat a ridiculous amount of food and then go play "fat dog" in the living room while the little ones watch Bambi or Brother Bear for the 4th consecutive time.

By now it was time to go to the church for institute (gospel instruction). And from there we went to the Cheesecake Factory to celebrate this months birthdays.

While I wish that the Jazz win yields pure bliss--I watched and was overrun by a myriad of emotions. Scott would be at the game. Scott loved the games. I used to give him so much crap because of the obsession with the sport--I mean who names their little boy Stockton? I just want him back. It's the first post season game I've watched--the pain is so much--the void is so real--he's not here to watch them with me. All the memories too new to be dead, and a death so new they're still sharp jagged memories. Like last season when we're at the game and both Brad and Scott get regulation warnings that are on record with the NBA for yelling at the refs, or the time that Scott yelled at one player that he wasn't as good as his play station character, and then another one that he wasn't even on PlayStation. The time that Sydney was sitting on her daddy's lap on the court and the Jazz bear came up to say hello and it scared her so bad she peed all over Scott's lap--so he bought her a cheerleader outfit only they didn't have any underwear to go under it ;)--she fit right in! Or the time Scott took Syd to build-a-bear at the Gateway to make her mom a mother's day bear and she had it all dressed and frilly in pink, then they went to name it and she pointed to one, and when Scott read it as Carlos--Syd quickly changed the bear into a Jazz uniform and said that it needed to be Boozer. Or how about the 2 tickets Scott gave me every year for my birthday--the game closest to November 26th (unless it was a really good team--then it was one ticket and he kept the other, and I was OK with that! Or the time he gave me 4 near court side and I couldn't use them--I was just a senior in high school--that was a lot of money to waste on fake high school friends-- so I took a date and he brought the girl he loved (who later became his wife). We picked up my date and he had on a black, ribbed, turtle neck sweater--exactly like the one my brother's wife was wearing with her leopard skin pants. Cause that's not embarrassing. Scott asked him if he could just take off his shirt. Or how the kids used to cuddle up beside their daddy and watch sports center--or whatever game was on. Sydney knows more about the NBA then most men I know (most, Robbie, I said most).

I survived another day of regulation ball. I'm sure one day I'll look back on these highlight reels and see that I learned the most amid the trials and tears--and even if I can't see those lessons beyond the pain, even if I never feel like I was able pull ahead in OT, at least I'm still in the game. To be proven. To be tested. To endure in faith. To love and serve God. To look beyond myself and help another.

Right after Scott died, there was a sign beside the highway by my apartment in Utah that had an injured basketball player and was advertising the local hospital and it read "get back in the game" I'm trying. I really do love the game. I love the players. I love the emotions. I love the sounds. I love the excitement.

After the excitement of the game tonight, I got into my car and away from it all-- my soul grieved the recent losses that were so vividly painted by the Jazz 'win' tonight. I even scrolled through my phone and looked at Scott's cell entry wanting to call him and race through the highlights--he'd have been so happy at the win. But he's gone. A reality that I am learning to walk with. One that will never go away--because no one will ever take his place. As I drove home, the longing for last season overcame me. I know our team didn't do so well--but who cares--all the players were here--isn't that what matters? The people, the relationships, the love?

Then another dose of the good people in my life: a comment from a new blogging friend Pat that inspired me to stay in the game. Real people, facing real life and finding beauty amid pain is what inspires me to stay in the game--thank you.

What can I say...?

You're a Romantic Kisser

For you, kissing is all about feeling the romance You love to kiss under the stars or by the sea The perfect kiss involves the perfect mood It's pretty common for kisses to sweep you off your feet

What Kind of Kisser Are You?

Ok, so I followed Robbie's link for the artist and it led me here...What can I say? Truth is truth.

Gratitude for the Quality People in my Life

I think I am surrounded by the highest quality people in the world.

For instance, this week was sad. I missed my brother and his family, I'm trying to figure out the million DOLLAR question "Ashley what are you doing with your life?" (Just a word to the wise--when a girl has tear-stained cheeks and looks sad and confused--please don't ask her what she is doing with her life.

If I knew...I'd probably be doing it.
(but until then I'll just keep walking in the right direction.)

Anyway, enough about being sad--while it is large part of my life lately--I want to focus on the happier part. So much of the good in my life is because of the incredible people God has placed around me. And for those of you that are reading this right now, no matter how long (or short) a time I've known you, regardless of the time that has passed since we've seen each other (or played a quality game of slaughter the overweight sister missionaries in basketball ;) despite the thousands of miles that separate us--I thank God each day that you are a part of my life.

A few examples:
First, there was a family in the last area of my mission--which was really only my 4th area,[apparently when your organs shut down and you have to go to the hospital and they think you are going to die--that isn't the most effective missionary condition to be in [please note the sarcastic tone]]. Back to this family--They are incredible! I don't think we taught them nearly as much as they taught us. Honestly, the love they have for each other and us--the time they spent doing stuff together, the sacrifices they made to go out and teach with us, to come visit in the hospital, to strengthen other families, to have community parties in the park and help us get the whole town there--they taught me SO much. And the cool thing was--they continued to care about me when I was sick and in Utah. The letters I got from them helped me to continue to live when the physical pain was so blinding I couldn't see straight and I didn't know if I would make it through the night. I remember one in particular from greatest girl ever--who thanked me for serving a mission and for "running down the road after them because of how she came to know God because of that." So why I bring this up--I haven't been nearly as good at staying in contact as frequently as I would like, and let's be honest, it is easier to stay in contact with people when you are happy and upbeat and feel like you have something to offer them. Sometimes life beats down so hard upon us that we begin to believe the lie that we don't have much to offer. The past 10 months have been like living in a personal concentration camp--only surrounded by people--and not feeling worthy of or able to connect with and love or accept love from anyone.

So 2 days ago i get an e-mail from the mother of this family--the most genuine, honest and loving person I know, who has been through more than I can imagine and has allowed it to make her better rather than bring her down-- how do you get an e-mail from someone like that--and still feel isolated, alone, and miserable? It's pretty hard--nearly impossible. It was just the reminder I needed that God was aware. Today in Relief Society (the women's organization) the teacher said: "when you are praying about something, if you don't get the answer, you will for sure still get the feeling that God heard you and is aware of you." And I can say I have prayed until my knees are bruised to find peace and consolation after losing my brother last year, and sometimes when the sadness is still there despite all I can do, and the problem doesn't go away, I can at least know that God hears me and is aware of me.

And then, just tonight I came home to an e-mail from that wonderful girl--who even after a rough week--was there to send me encouragement and to lift my spirit. Oh how I love you!

And then my phone rang Friday--and it was Sweet little Sydney McCale on the other end of the phone telling me of all the things new in her life and asking me to draw her pretty pictures and send her packages and reminding me how much she loves me, and then having Sammy say "ah-eee, ah-eee, ah-eee" there are no more beautiful words that anyone could have said to stir joy within my heart. Oh, but Stockton telling me how he is going to be all grown up and 4 years old and what he wants me to send him--that only compounded the joy a few hundred fold! I love them "all the way to heaven!"

Or the incredibly nice girl I met once in Miami who is seriously such a sweetheart--every time I see her it makes my day, and she comes up and gives me a hug--there are wonderful people everywhere! (and that makes up for the guy from Miami that forgot he knew me ;) But it made for a great and awkward back-peddling conversation for him!)

How about the sweet family from my mission that again, taught me far more than I could ever teach them--for instance I called them driving to the Orlando temple one day and commented on how it is 3 hours away--and she reminded me that they are about 3 1/2 hours away from Spokane and how they are temple workers there on Saturdays--such love and devotion--and then reminded me that still 3 years after serving in their area, they pray for me and my family daily, I love you!

How about the old college roommate who just happens to know when I could use the perfect crazy BYU social story and can still make me laugh like it's 3 am on a road trip--and can help me to see the sunshine in just about any situation? SMRT!

Or the woman in my ward who just happened to feel that she needed to call and ask me to watch her kids so she and her husband could go out and celebrate their 10th anniversary, that fell on the 10m anniversary of my brother's death. It was the perfect opportunity to look beyond myself. When I go there the first sentence out of the little boys mouth was (as I was holding his baby sister) "you wanna know when her birthday is? It is July 3rd 2006." Such a simple and loving reminder from a Father in Heaven that knows me. After all, who can keep feeling miserable when they are rocking a baby to sleep?

Next example: Have you ever met the kind of man you see in church videos and in the family commercials, you imagine they exist, but you're not really sure where they exist? I would just like to say that for the past week I have been surrounded by them. An old friend from college-who was an actual true friend when I most needed one--he and his cousin just happened into my life at a time of pure bleakness and despair. They are the epitome of chivalry. Their mothers ought to be pleased. In 3 days they had reminded me not only that good in men exist, but because of the loving kindness and respect they exhibited, reminded me that there was something valuable, even Divine left in me also, they made me not only want to be better, but to feel better about who I am. I learned more in 3 days about the Christ-like attributes of men holding the priesthood, who honor women than I have in my entire life, and in any various church or community position I have held. You know, the kind of man that not only makes you laugh while you are with him, but calls to make sure you make it home safely--I didn't know they existed.

Since then, it seems as though I am surrounded by good people, and maybe I am just more aware of them. The sweet little man James who lives in my building walked all the way back across the parking lot just to hold the door for me after I'd been to Costco, and then walked all the way back to his car and drove away--note:to walk across the parking lot is not an easy task for some of these adorable elderly people. How about Lehia, the Spanish woman who lives next door who doesn't speak a lick of English and came over to help me carry the ridiculous amount of books I took to institute on Wednesday? Or the quality guys recently returned from serving God full-time as missionaries that are in my stake--the ones that have chosen to retain the good habits they developed over the past 2 years--the ones who make me want to be better and serve more.

Or my friend who even though she is struggling, she calls and texts and stays in contact even when she feels she is merely surviving. It takes a true friend to look beyond personal pain and help another who is hurting.

In the Newsweek blog on Mormonism this week--I testified that to end the contention and debate all we need to do is to ask God to know for ourselves. A very bitter and antagonistic man who called himself RBC, told me that maybe I should do some research before bothering my creator with such a petition. I told him thank you, but that I would stick to studying the scriptures and communicating with God. He proceeded to tell me that long ago there was a young child who needed help with homework problems and her parents were busy and she she began to ask the neighbor--who helped her for weeks--the parents found out and were mortified--the neighbor was Albert Einstein and very well-qualified to help the child.

At the time, the man was likening himself to Einstein and me to the child--I'll be the child, I'm fine with that, I have very limited knowledge compared to many, and his story didn't really ring truth in me, because even if he was Einstein, I am not going to take his opinion on the matter of such great importance as God and His Gospel when I can just ask God and have been promised that by the power of the Holy Ghost I can know the truth of all things--I have already gained a testimony that the gospel has been restored. Where this man's story has impacted me is in looking back over the past week--the hardest one I have lived thus far, and to see that while I was praying to God that I might find peace and comfort--he was reaching out by the hands and hearts, and letters of nearly every individual that I came in contact with. So I guess when I ask God for help with my problems and my trials here in mortality, I need to be more aware of the enabling power that comes through those that love and serve and are trying to be like Jesus.

There are really no words to express how grateful I am for the quality people the Lord has placed around me. I realized this week that although the opposition and trials are great, I cannot fall, because I am surrounded on every side by good people. And if you are reading this--I just want you to know of my love and thanks!

Sydney

Wow! I can't believe how fast she is growing up! She speaks so clearly and has better English than--well--just about anyone I've met here in Florida ;) She got SO excited when she told me that it's almost time to go visit Utah for all the weddings this summer--I can't wait to see them!

Sam-ME

I think I spoke to This little one for about 30 seconds before Stockton took the phone from her... She say's "yes" "no" "me" and "Ah-eee" very clearly and then the conversation is pretty well over ;)