My Heart Is Heavy

photo from pbase.com

I feel like I am about to write an obituary.

Really, it is just a building. However, it is a building which for many, myself included, holds many memories as well as a rich history.

This morning Allen showed me the breaking news story on KSL which told of the demise of our historic Provo Tabernacle. It was up in flames, smoke billowing from the collapsed roof and broken windows.

photo taken from the mayor's blog

Just a building? I suppose. It's the building where Allen and I went to a few Sunday firesides when we were dating. It's the place where we have attended almost every Stake Conference we've been to in our married life. My kids have been honored and received awards in assemblies held in this place. Some of them have even performed there. I have been uplifted and inspired while inside. My kids have played on the spiral staircases within the four corner towers. The architecture of this building was incredible. Every time we sat inside its walls we marveled over the intricate woodwork and beautiful stained glass windows.

These memories are not only mine- they have been the same memories of others who have lived in Provo and been a part of all of the same things I have mentioned. The same meetings, firesides and assemblies have been held here for years. This structure has been a part of our community and our lives since the late 1800's. It is one of the oldest buildings in the state.

All of that is gone now. All that remains is an empty outside shell. All that the walls contained is destroyed.

As I drove Thumbelina to school this morning I passed our Provo Tabernacle. Smoke still poured from every available opening as firefighters continued to douse the building with water. It was a heartbreaking sight.

The cause of the fire is still unknown.

How does one describe the feelings associated with the demise of a structure? Words fail me. It was more than just a building, it was a part of our community. It will be a sad thing to drive past this corner of our city and see only the walls remaining.

Today is a sad day for Provo.

Seasons

Lately I've been thinking.

I've been thinking about a lot of things.

I've been thinking about being pregnant for the last time and trying to think of a way to express my feelings over the matter. Words fail me.

I have realized that as Curly passes through each stage and age it is the last time I will be experiencing it with a little girl. Why is this difficult?

I have wondered what it will be like to have my children leave for college and life beyond our home. Are they ready?

I have been noticing the unique and shared traits of each of my children and how some of them are distinctly from me and others are definitely from their dad. This makes me happy.

I have even thought about my blog - how I wish that when I started posting over 3 years ago I had taken more time to thoughtfully choose a blog name and address. (Gerb in the 'Burbs is so much more catchy than the boring Life As I Know It.)

I have thought of various things I could write about or take pictures of.

I think about relationships with family and friends. I wish I could choose a different person to visit with every single day. I wish I had more time for others.

I think much of who I have become in the last 20 years. I have not changed a whole lot in appearance but the core of who I am and what I think has gone through a complete transformation. And yet - I am really pretty much the same person I have always been. This confuses me.

I wonder if I will ever go to New York or Australia. I wonder if I will be disappointed with either if I do.

Like a child on the night before her first trip to Disneyland, I am filled with anticipation, nervousness and excitement over our plans for Halloween.

I understand that I am an introvert a great deal of the time and an extrovert the rest of the time. I do not understand what brings out either end of this personality spectrum. I wish I knew.

I cannot fathom our home ever being diaper-free. I wonder if I'm ready for that time.

I wonder if I have my priorities arranged correctly.

I realize that I love music, but because of this love for music I often cannot listen to it. Every song, every word that holds a memory for a time or situation in my life inspires some sort of emotion. There are certain emotions that are best left alone.

I keep trying to think of ideas of things to write on my kids' lunchbags each day. After 5 years of writing jokes, I ran out. I started writing inspirational thoughts but these do not go over as well.

I think about others often. Are they happy? Are they well? Are they eating something delicious and not telling me about it?

I worry that I am selfish. I worry that I am lacking. I worry that I worry too much.

I love that we get new family pictures every year. I have been wondering what colors and themes we should try for this time around.

I think about life, I think about death. I find beauty and sadness in both.

I have been watching the clouds and the mountains as the seasons change.

I suppose that what I am trying to say is that I have been doing a whole lot of thinking - and not much writing. I am hoping to turn this around soon, to transform this jumble of thoughts into words...

I figured this was the best way to start.

Minute Mysteries

Have you heard of minute mysteries? My kids go through stages where they love these things. I pretty much always think they're ridiculous because they are so open-ended that anything could be the answer.

Here's an example of a minute-mystery conversation in our house:

Kids: Hey, mom... Bob is a delivery man who is in a hurry. He's coming up on a railroad crossing as the barriers start lowering. He won't make it past before they close, but he doesn't have time to stop. What does he do?

Me: He crashes through the barriers.

Kids: Nope.

Me: How do you know? Were you there?

Kids: That's just not the right answer, mom.

Me: Why not? It makes sense.

Kids: Just keep asking questions and you'll get it.

Me: (exasperated sigh) Does he hit the train?

Kids: No.

Me: See? He crashes through the barriers without hitting the train. I win.

Kids: (rolling eyes) Whatever, mom.

Actually, today I have a few minute mysteries of my own to stump my kids with...

1. As some kids are leaving for school their mother asks them, "Did you make your beds?" "YES!" they all shout in unison, but when the mother goes to check, the beds are unmade. How is this so?

2. A woman puts a load of laundry into the washing machine, carefully checking that all socks have a match before putting them inside. By the time she carries the basket full of clean laundry upstairs, 3 socks are missing. Where are the missing socks?

3. The basement of a family's home has pictures drawn in Sharpie or crayon on every wall. When the parents ask who made these drawings every child responds with, "Not me." There is no one named Not Me living in the house. Who drew on the walls?

4. When a mother asks her kids if they would like a cookie, they all respond immediately. But when she asks if they have finished their homework or if they could help her with the dishes, no one seems to hear her. What is the cause of this phenomenon?

5. While searching for missing car keys beneath her couch cushions, a woman finds a candy bar wrapper, 4 popsicle sticks and some popcorn. No one is allowed to eat in the room where the couch is, so where did these items come from?

I can't wait to hear their answers.

And in case you were still trying to figure it out, Bob was the train driver.

Longing For Home

(That's me at my dad's knee. They called me the milkman's daughter.)

I watched parts of the movie Tarzan with my littlest kids today. I didn't intend to but I found myself strangely entranced. (I need to get out more, I know.) I wasn't sure what it was about the movie that caught my attention and had me transfixed until it came to the segment where the background music is the song "Strangers Like Me" by Phil Collins. That was when I realized what was so fascinating about it all: I am Tarzan, someone who is stuck between two worlds.

Most of you who read here know that I come from a family where both parents were Deaf. I was raised in what is known as 'Deaf culture', a whole separate world from the world of those who can hear. And I LOVED it. For me, this largely unknown Deaf world has always been the place where I feel most at home and this movie somehow got me feeling homesick again.

Words truly escape me when attempting to describe the love I have for the world of the Deaf. The people, the culture, the language... these are all ingrained in me. I embrace them and sometimes fear I will lose them completely. I never want that to happen - it would be like losing a part of my soul.

In my moments of greatest emotion the most frustrating thing remains to be the fact that I can not express myself in spoken words as well as I can in sign language. The difficult part is that the English language often does not translate the passion and depth of meaning behind the words in sign. This is why I love words. The more words I know, the more I have in my arsenal when trying to accurately express myself.

And the more I am able to integrate myself into this world of the hearing which still often feels like a new pair of shoes that are not quite broken in yet.