giving some thanks

I love November. 

My Grandpa Gubler turns one year older each November. This year he turned 80 and all the family gathered to celebrate. 

My grandpa and grandma are darling. There are more than a few pictures through the years of my Grandma flashing a beautiful smile while my Grandpa looks down at her (literally) with doting eyes. He is a cattle man, and she wears pearls while she cooks and cleans. They are the perfect pair. 

Emily was called on a mission this November (wish I had my own picture of it!). She's off to New York City in just two months. Aunt Em is leaving Olivia and me with huge shoes to fill, as she is the only daughter in that family of eight. But, clearly, our darling babe will do a good job of filling at least part of the girl-void that Em will leave behind. 

The Awerkamps loved on Olivia. I think "babies" and "love" are the same thing to all of them - evidenced by their family of eight children, and in the desire of Ryan, BJ, and Emily, at least, to have large families of their own. Olivia loved their attention. She jabbed and jabbed as they ooed and ahhed at her and petted her. She was in heaven!

November also brings my older brother, Shandon, a birthday. To celebrate, we ate pancakes with buttermilk syrup in his honor, and he specially feasted on the red birthday plate while drinking a zuka-made-by-dad in the red birthday cup. That's tradition. 

There's no one on earth quite like Shandon. He is smart and so hardworking. We went around the table and said what we love about him, and my dad couldn't stop talking about the "Mr. Fix-it" and "Mr. Builder" that Shandon has always been. No wonder he is studying to become a master builder of homes...I'm so impressed with his desire to fulfill a dream and to do so in the best way he can. 

Shandon is the genius behind our family's themed parties each holiday season (i.e. Ugly Stache & Sweater Party & Redneck Party) because Shandon is funny. I love his made-up words and his ballads for TJ - I often hear him singing his own welcome home song to TJ boy across the way as the day ends. I love my brother! He is a wonderful father, brother, and friend. 

This November also brought us Olivia's first bath! 

Okay big jk. Olivia has been bathed every day of her life on earth thus far.

These pics just show that I got to be in my sweet mother's presence again over the weekend as I took care of my baby. Oh how I love seeing my mom's hands around her little body. Olivia feels as safe and happy in them as I do - she told me so :) 

Cheers to this blessed month of November! I have felt a new and improved type of gratitude growing in my heart throughout its days so far. 

I am so grateful for family - they mean everything to me. Becoming a little mama myself has helped me turn and see more clearly how much my family has done in making me "me," and for that, I give a little praise to my every aunt, grandparent, cousin, uncle, brother, sister, and to my mother and father:  you're all wonderful, do you know it?

Grazie. Merci. Danke. 

Thanks.

weeks 4 & 5

I am really, really grateful for hard days, nights, and even weeks - once they're over and I am one step away looking back at them from a distance. They add a lovely contrast to the light in my life, making the bright places stand out even more. 

Weeks 4 & 5: they have been wonderful - still hard at times, but wonderful. 

Olivia and I went running just twice. The weather was perfect and I couldn't resist because the cold is coming. Running with my baby's weight in the stroller instead of in my stomach was exhilarating - I felt like sprinting - and so I sprinted. 

Note: my short legs don't sprint, actually, but sometimes it's fun to pretend. 

I went crazy with a camera one day during Olivia's "wake time." How I love those baby faces. Sometimes I wonder if she ever feels out of control, all those muscles moving so spontaneously. Her arms and legs are the best - leg jerk here, fist pump there, squirms all around. As I watch her I wish I could remember what feeling is like for the first time, so that we had more to goo and gaa about. Luckily we have the sweetest eye contact and I swear she smiles back at me...

Olivia watched Ryan as Ryan watched the debate. 

My dear daughter, do you understand the potential you have for greatness? Look at those legs. They're in your genes, girl. You're already showing signs of being long and lean - your fingers and feet - they are long! They are just like Daddy's.

P.S. So glad you already adore him.

The contrasting stroke of the fifth week: getting mastitis. Yep. That mama right there is just half of the image of nastiness, thanks to antibiotics. 

The surrounding strokes of light: Olivia is healthy, she loves bath time, and she smells of Johnson & Johnson baby lotion every night (the most heavenly scent). 

Yesterday evening we walked to the temple to soak up more of fall before it completely fades. Can I just say that I'm so glad she is with me?...it's been nice to have someone with me to enjoy every part of every day. She listens to me think out loud, cry out loud, and sing out loud. I'm keeping her. For eternity.

 Dark shades amidst the light - it really is part of the beauty.

All is well.

week 3, as told by Olivia

Week 3: even harder, longer, and sweeter than week two. Serious.

Olivia tells all in this letter she wrote to her Uncle Nick on Sunday, October 14 - he is a missionary in Germany. Her mother swears that she had nothing to do with this. 

Hello Uncle Nick!

This is Olivia. I'm sending you this message from the hospital, because I've had to stay here for a couple of days. It's been a party, let me tell you! 

We came because my stomach has felt terrible, and my whole body has been hurting. The doctors say I've had a virus. Having a virus made me weak and tired, so I didn't like eating for a few days. Also, for two weeks, hot, burning acid has come up my throat when I eat and I hate it. I hate it so much that I scream and cry about it. A lot. That means that my mom and dad hate the hot, burning acid problem, too, especially since I don't eat very much because of it. We've all just been feeling kind of sick about my sadness. My mom actually has cried about it more than I have.

On Saturday morning, mom and dad first took me to see the doctor, and he told us to go to the hospital so that I could have an IV (I was soo hungry and thirsty!), and the nurses needed to take some tests done on my blood, just in case I had a real big problem. After the nurses poked me a lot in my arm, my hand, and even my foot to give me an IV, I became very, very weak. My olive skin turned almost white, and I wouldn't even move a muscle (mother was terrified), so Dad and Uncle Adam gave me a priesthood blessing and that really helped me - I started to eat again! Also, everybody in the whole world was praying for me, so that's probably why I started to get better, too. And my mom - she even had a blessing. She was fatigued because I wasn't eating and sleeping well, and she cried so much when I slowly stopped moving that she felt sick, too. But now she has more energy to take care of me, and she is so happy again! Mom and me - we're big fans of the priesthood. I'm sure you're blessing the Germans with it, too. Thanks for honoring your gift. You rock. 

So after I took all the tests (tests are hard!), all the doctors said that there isn't anything nasty growing inside of me, but they gave me some medicine to kill any germs, and I started to eat better. Then I started to eat even better because mom started to feed me better! This really amazing nurse taught my mom some tricks about feeding a baby like me - one that has to deal with the hot, burning acid in their throat. Mom cried like, tons of tears of joy because she fed me in 20 minutes and I didn't even cry or spit up. Not once. Hallelujah.  

So, that's all. Tomorrow we're going back to our house. We're really grateful for the help we had here. My dad and mom are especially thankful to my aunts and uncles that came to take care of us - they were really, really nice to us. 

Can't wait to sleep in my own bed and to look around at my own home with my big, blue eyes! And now that I feel better, I'm going to eat wayy more. Yep, Mom and I are going to really have a good time together now. 

Sie sind ein guter Onkel. Why are you surprised that I know German? I'm an angel - I have the gift of tongues.

You're a great uncle and I love you. See you in about a year. Don't worry, I'll still be just as darling when we meet face-to-face. 

xoxo

Olivia

P.S. This is dad and me the night we got home. Of course dad just wanted to snuggle with me without any IV and monitor cords attached. He's kind of obsessed with me and I adore him. We're best friends. 

Okay that's all. See ya! Bye!

26 days

I have been changing diapers for 26 days now. They're tiny diapers, that when all wrapped up, resemble squishy, disfigured balls. They're pretty cute.

Never thought I would consider a diaper to be "cute," but hey, I'm now a mother.

And I can hardly wrap my mind around that fact. During these last 26 days, my heart has felt the biggest mixture of emotions yet of its young life. Giving birth to Olivia - the grand finale of her gaining a body - was the hardest test of my physical strength that I have yet endured, and it was the most elevating, sweet experience that my spirit has yet felt.

Then, after that fleeting moment of welcoming new life into the world, I really became "mother" and the nurturing began. Day-by-day I have felt more and more that caring for my daughter's tiny body which houses her very big spirit is an honorable work. And yet, day-by-day, I have realized that this job is work. By "work" I don't mean that it's super hard to change eight diapers a day, or that laundering newborn clothes and burp cloths all week long is just so hard, because it's not. Thus far I have learned that the hard work of motherhood lies within the constant, endless, infinite demand to love.

That is the irony I've discovered in my short 26 days as mother: it is so easy to love your child incredibly much - I love Olivia to the point of bursting! - and yet that kind of all-encompassing, selfless, constant love has to be refueled. So the effort it takes to keep that unique type of love is the hard work. I pray for this love daily, and then I have to choose to be motivated by this love daily, because I have learned it really doesn't come to me that naturally. Mother Jeni is not always oh so patient, happy, and positive. Nope, not at all. I've cried just as many tears of frustration as I have tears of joy about all of this. But in the attempts I am making to meet my new demands with love, something beautiful is happening. My heart is changing for the better, and I am becoming (cannot emphasize the "becoming" part enough!) more like my sweetest Olivia: submissive, meek, willing to be taught, accepting of help, and eager to love without reserve.

Isn't she lovely?...just a few pictures from today on a whim - she was too darling after her diaper change to not capture. 

Yes, and my heart bursts for her more today than it did yesterday, and its capacity to perfectly love tomorrow will be even greater. I just know it.

Thank you, angel daughter, for helping me learn how to be a much better wife, sister, daughter, and friend by letting me be your mother.

xoxo for eternity, darling. 

flooding Santa Clara again...

Every time I talk to my mom she is happier. She has more stories about more people that have helped our family so selflessly. She is more whole. And it appears that most of the flooded families on Vineyard Drive in Santa Clara are feeling the same: a little more recovered, a little more relieved.

While that's true - recovery is happening - this is just the beginning.

Yes, amazing progress has been made with cleaning up the muddy mess left by the flood, but more than a few families face literal reconstruction of the majority of their homes. And most, left with so little financially, are feeling truly devastated.

Thinking about the dire circumstances of these people makes me feel guilty for just sharing my parents' story, whose situation is quite hopeful when compared to others' dismal situations.

Example A: my parents still have room in their home for comfortable living, but the children of a neighboring family down the street are staying in a camper parked in their front yard because their small basement - now totally destroyed - is where they slept. Those children will most likely be in that camper through the pending fall and winter...they may easily be there until reconstruction of their home can occur, and their parents don't know when that can happen.

Example B: some families' homes have been entirely condemned. Complete demolition of their old homes is required and building an entirely new home is necessary. Can you imagine being required to build a home without having any financial reserve or preparation to do so? The thought alone is so overwhelming...

Federal relief cannot come to these people - the magnitude of the devastation isn't quite wide enough - and yet they don't have the financial resources to recover. That is why a few beloved, good hearts have taken action in creating this outlet for anyone, anywhere, to help take the weight off the shoulders of so many nearly homeless fathers, mothers, elderly couples, and children:

FLOOD THE LOVE

The "Flood the Love" venture has taken hours of work in organizing, and it has so much potential to be successful. The goal of making $10,000 for the affected families is more than achievable! 

Since realizing how needy these families are, I have thought multiple times, "What if that happened to Ryan and me - and Olivia and three other children?"...and then my heart hurts too much to not give something. The fear in the hearts of these parents is more than real: they need help. 

Personally, I donated online through their website via the PayPal link on the right-hand side of the webpage. Ryan and I may be currently counting our own pennies, but if he and I needed help giving our little daughter a safe place to live, I would welcome - so gratefully - any assistance from another. 

I believe that is innate within all of us to do good. I believe that it is intrinsic to human nature to help someone that is sorrowing find solace. While the focus of this recent message from Elder David A. Bednar is on discerning light from Heavenly Father, a single phrase that he says in it has been on my mind all week long as I have heard story upon story about people who have helped the flood victims: 

"Everything that invites us and entices us to do good comes from God." 

As I have seen so many doing good to those in need in Santa Clara - particularly now through the financial relief, like "Flood the Love" - I more firmly believe that there is true goodness in our hearts, and that goodness comes from our living Heavenly Father. I also know that when we respond to God's guiding light to lift His children, He gives us what we need in return through another one of His Sons, Jesus Christ.

So give a little, and for doing so, expect more than a little in return from our Father in Heaven that loves us all deeply...more than we will ever ever grasp.

Flood the Love! 

"the pursuit of easy things makes men weak..."

I may be physically distanced from "Operation Restoration" at home, but I am definitely not removed emotionally. I thought I felt as sad I could on Wednesday as I grasped my family's loss but then Thursday came. Shandon, Talli, Elise, and Annie all left for home to help, and I stayed behind. While I know my "cause" for staying here was "right" (clearly), I still felt that ache from being unable to help: I couldn't be a source of comfort to the weary, particularly to my parents and my little sister. 

By Thursday evening I finally got to talk to my mom. I had not spoken with her since Tuesday morning before the flood. As manager of "Operation Salvage" she was so busy and so far from having a few moments to talk. But then we finally spoke - I heard her voice - and oh how I cried. Why is it that your mother's voice brings relief beyond words, even to the point of tears? All she had to say was, "Jeni?" and I lost it. And I'm not going to blame it on being pregnant :) 

Poor woman. The last thing she needed was to bear my burden, but graciously and naturally, she did. She listened to me cry. She excused my apology for not being there for her and my dad. She consoled me with just a few words. She made me feel like all would be right again. She mothered me perfectly. 

"Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies" (Proverbs 31:10). 

My mother - trusty and true - is a priceless woman of virtue. 

So, I learned that I didn't need to worry - mom, dad, and Kimberlee were being taken care of. And from the pictures that I am being sent, it is more than clear that angels are surrounding them. Hundreds of people - family, friends, and strangers - are lifting some of the weight from their shoulders through incredibly selfless service, and for that our entire family is so grateful. 

While my mom has headed up "Operation Salvage," my dad has manned "Operation Remodel." Using hammers, axes, and pure grit, he and many kind volunteers have given the basement quite the makeover. Take a peek: 

The staircase

The living room

Elise's bathroom

The yellow kitchen, as we called it

Shandon's bathroom

Shandon's bedroom

The hallway

Yes, so much has been torn a part, but there is quite a bit being put back together.

Well, documents, letters, and pictures are being "put back together" as much as they can be. There is only so much to be done when dark red mud cements pictures and paper together, making them bricks of their own kind. But the miracle is that the effort has been worth it. Much is being saved.

As my family and our helping angels have worked at salvaging these treasures, memories have been recovered and reviewed. I can imagine the stories being told as another picture is displayed or as another journal entry is re-read...

That part of "operation salvage" has been most sweet...remembering.

Here is Shandon and Talli har at work in one of the many operating rooms

One of Elise's many journals drying out

Loving this original certificate of Annie's - I was the lucky recipient of this one. Isn't Annie's handwriting beautiful? If I was six months old when she honored me for my thumb-sucking (which I never knew I did!), then she was just about nine years old when she created this certificate. She is awesome. 

And the old pictures of my parents that have been found are wonderful. I may be biased, but my dad is so cute (I am obsessed with the freckles - please bless that Olivia has some freckles)...

And my mother is absolutely beautiful. My Aunt Sara made this "picture album," per se, for my mom around the time she married my dad. I am told that these plastic "books" were pretty neat :) 

The upper-levels of the house are decorated with table cloths lined with negatives and pictures for drying. The whole salvation operation is incredible.

But, of course, the best part of the "operations" has been the people that have come in to my parent's home and worked endlessly in their behalf. From family members (pictured below - cousins Branson and Chase with Shandon and Aunt Heather with Talli) to total strangers, the support has been overwhelming.

Actually, my mom said that her tears flowed the fastest in the first few days not because of the mess, but because of the people that kept coming to help..."angels," she called them, and selfless angels they truly are.

Food has been donated and meals have been brought to my family, along with the other affected families on our street. Homemade hamburgers flew off that portable grill, I'm told. Little Caesars has dropped dozens of pizzas by. So many have been more than generous...

How do you express enough gratitude? 

I love seeing glimpses of smiles and laughter!...it is so comforting. 

Some of the angel friends, Brock and Julie, and their littles, Thomas and Mason. Our family is so blessed to be surrounded by so many "wonderfuls," as I like to refer to anyone that is well, wonderful, as are all of these helpful people.

My youngest sister, Kimberlee, took a huge blow with this little crisis, as she is the last of us at home with our parents. Her tender, motherly heart has been weighed down with feelings of responsibility to ease some of the pain my parent's have felt, and bless her heart - feeling that responsibility is stressful to say the least. 

Luckily, she was given extra special relief in her time of playing "rescuer." Her dear friend dropped this package by full of goods that she loves loves loves to make her feel better...I am told that it worked. 

Honestly, this is all I know about these two awesome boys: "These are dad's favorite helpers, Sam and Joe." Look at their smiles! Aren't they great? These are the some of the angelic "strangers" my parents keep referring to. I'm positive my dad would have never connected with these guys if it wasn't for this crazy flood. Good things, good things...there is always a sweetness to trial.

One of my favorite rescued treasures is this quote that my mom wrote to my dad while he served his mission in South Africa. It conveys the nature of both my mom and dad: diligently faithful and impressively confident in the face of adversity.

Beautifully said, sweetest mother.

Thank you to all the angels that are lifting my family and helping us heal.
And ode to my amazing parents. You have always told us that we can do hard things.

Shall we not go on in so great a cause? The future is as bright as our faith...

the bitter and sweet of loss

I am 40-weeks-great-with-child, so of course I walked a long distance this evening...I walked for as long as my legs could go.

On this walk, as I came upon a park, I noticed a woman ahead of me slowly ascending a hill into the park. She was thin. She walked slowly. Her head was wrapped in a royal blue bandana. She had lost her hair. Cancer.

Fifteen minutes later, now up in a neighborhood above the park, a mother called out to me "Excuse me!" - she was looking for two small people, ages five and two. She had lost her children. Not frantic yet, but concerned, this woman hoped I had seen the littles that she was looking for.

Then, now on my way home as I cut through the park, I saw a sandal ahead of me in the middle of the sidewalk. It was small and black with an elastic that wraps around the heel so that the child who wears it can run run run without losing it...but this child had lost the sandal. I imagined a chubby little foot fitting inside of it as I passed it by, and I hoped that that small, squishy sandal-less foot felt okay.

I ache for these people and their losses, from the smallest sandal to the large loss of good health, to the seeming loss of loved ones (luckily the woman's two children were just around the corner and they weren't truly gone for forever :) ) 

Loss can hurt so very much. It has been on my mind today, and not just because of the glimpses that I had of it on my walk this evening. My beautiful home in Santa Clara is, in a way, lost. Amazing, unexpected flood waters poured into my parent's basement yesterday afternoon, along with many other homes on their street.

The thick, dark red, muddy water had no mercy. It broke through the windows and climbed over four feet up the walls. And then it sat there and it soaked its new surroundings. When it was finally okay for my parents to start pumping the water out, it took four pumps working for over four hours to drain the flooded floor.

Yes, it's just a house, it's just a "thing," but it's still our home. Seeing it so damaged and thinking of the lost treasures held within its cupboards and closets made me cry, and cry I did for a long, long while.

our backyard: an instagram via sister, Annie, from last night's newscast

our basement: iTouch pics via sister Kimbee

our basement living room: image via The Spectrum

The basement is being gutted down to the drywall. A lot of our home was lost.

And yet, a lot was saved. 

instagrams via Annie & our family friend, Brock

Like this classic shot of my sweetest dad.

(Okay so I am in love with that!)

More examples:

Most of our childhood picture albums were stored in cupboards just above the water's highest line - they were saved. My brother, Shandon's, mission journal was snatched up by my aunt - his stories and memories are saved. Letters that my parents wrote back and forth while my dad served a mission in South Africa weren't washed away. The telling of their love story, via those letters,  is saved.

And let's not discount that the damage done to our home was secluded to the basement. Two-thirds of our home is saved. That is an incredible blessing.

Things lost and saved - the situation is bittersweet, to say the least.

I think I've cried the "I-don't-feel-like-being-positive tears" all away now, and I'm feeling again so grateful that our family has experienced the loss of things rather than good health, for example. And we still have a house. We still have pictures and treasures and memories. Best of all, we still have each other. Our family is already closer. The Santa Clara community is even stronger.

This loss has already made us better.

Granted, when I see more pictures of our home and city that will come my way tomorrow, I will probably cry again, especially since I can't be there to help. But amidst those tears, I count on whipping out that happiest picture above of my father and hearing my mom's voice in my head singing, "We can do hard things!"...and again this confirmation of peace will come.

*More images of our home and our neighbors' homes here

**How to help: Santa Clara officials have established a charitable relief fund to assist the victims of this week's flooding. Anyone interested in donating can do so to the Santa Clara Flood Relief Fund 2012 at any State Bank of Southern Utah branch.