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! 

salt or pepper...

40 weeks on the left :: Bursting for his little girl on the right

Sweet baby girl,

What do you look like? 

Are your fingers short like mom's or long like dad's

Is your skin fair like mom's or olive like dad's

Will you be a chubby babe like mama or long and lean like dad

dark blonde or dark brown

eyes blue or hazel

are you salt or pepper...

or both?

Come on down here to planet earth and we'll find out!

You're 40 weeks old now, so it's okay to come.

Brimming with too much anticipation to see your perfection,

love love love,

mama & dad

"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. 

my dad's motto

For me, new school years are as bittersweet as grapefruit. They are refreshing, sweet, and sour all packed into one burst. I haven't always felt that way about them. It wasn't until I moved to Santa Clara in 2005 that starting school again became less than purely exciting. I was 14 when I moved. Those first months were hard. Even though I seemed totally fine on the outside, for a while I cried day-to-day as I walked home alone. I cried those silent tears that fall down your cheeks like quiet rain against a window. Lonely and unknown, I was a new girl. I was an underdog.

Growing up, my dad used to tell us, "Be kind to the underdogs!" every time he dropped us off for school. That was his motto, and the best part about his preaching it to us was that he lived it. I grew up watching my dad acknowledge those people on the sidelines that seemed to be alone. However, it wasn't until I found myself feeling that way - totally alone in a new place, almost sinking beneath the weight of all the changes around me - that I learned what my dad meant when he said, "be kind."

All those years he meant, "Smile at someone who looks sad. Really smile. Ask how they're doing and really listen. Don't just say 'hi,' talk to them. Learn who they are."

Never did I grasp the importance of lifting the heavy heart of another until my own became terribly weighed down. Never did I learn how an underdog felt until I, myself, became one. And never, until then, did I learn that helping another feel divine is the way that you yourself feel truly happy.

Those underdog feelings come back to me with every new school year, as I think about someone out there that feels as scared and alone as I once did. I felt them this year and I didn't even start school. Just watching Ryan run off to his first day of the semester was enough to make me ache for that new, freshman girl on campus that is quiet, far away from home, and so unsure about almost everything. I cried a few tears for her, and then I prayed that someone would give her a smile - a real one.

Really smile, really listen, learn who someone really is.

Thank you, sweet Dad, for giving me a motto that I will teach my own little girl: be kind to the underdogs. 

the bump funnies of week 39

week 39

Anxiousness for Olivia's arrival and my new, incredible size at week 39 has spurred some interesting conversations in this second-to-last week (hopefully!) of Olivia's stay in the womb. Can't wait for this little beauty to make her appearance so that talking about her (or with her, in my case) can be a real-life experience... 

Lolly Loves Olivia

Lolly (aka Lauren, my oldest sister's four-year-old daughter): Olivia Olivia I love you so much (kiss kiss kiss of the bump) you are just a little baby (rubbing of the nose on the bump) when are you going to be born, tomorrow?

(Noticing me for the first time, as if I've just encroached on the moment, said in an exasperated tone) Jeni when is Olivia going to be born?!

Me: Hopefully so soon! Maybe in just a few days?

Lolly: Ugh. Fine.

#endofstory #seeyabye

Costco Box Man

Me: May I have this boxed, please? And can you balance the box between the handle of the cart and the top of the little backrest of the seat? 

Box Man (said smiling, not condescendingly): Ohh so you're one of those picky people, aren't you...

Me (smiling back, he obviously can't see, standing behind the register, that I'm great with child): Yes, actually, I am one of those picky pregnant people. 

Box Man: Ohh oh oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't see you were pregnant (I step out from behind the register to receive the grocery cart: side view tells all)...oh yeah, okay yeah you are definitely pregnant. I'm really sorry about that. 

Me: No prob! Serious! 

#blesshisheart #classic

Elderly Gentleman (also at Costco, just prior to Box Man convo)

The Gentleman (voice a little shaky with age): Whennn's that little boy going to pop outta there?

Me (considered clarifying the gender assumption, decided against it after weighing the option): Within about 10 days!

The Gentleman (wheeze of laughter): Hallelujah! Just don't give him away...

#promiseiwon't #lovemylittleboy

Walmart Cashier Girl

Cashier Girl: Oh so you're pregnant? When are you due?

Ryan & Me: Next week.

Cashier Girl: Your lives are going to change, do you know that?

Ryan & Me (look at each other, smile): We bet! Do you have any kids?

Cashier Girl: No! I like, don't want to go through the whole poopy diaper thing and the labor, bleh, and the puking! But your lives are SO totally going to change, OH my gosh. 

Ryan & Me (picking up the sack to leave): Yes, they will! We're so excited.

Cashier Girl (literally calling after us): Change change change! Do you know it? Your lives!...

Ryan: For real? My life's going to change? Get out...

#howneatwasthat? #pleasewatchNeaturerightnow

Good times. I can only imagine the incredibly better ones ahead, because although pregnancy clearly has potential to be funny, kids are genuinely hilarious.

#anydaynow

a sweet start to labor day

in the oldest sister's cottage
the family ate and ate
a breakfast that looked like it belonged
on July 4
but the day was September 3
the littles played "tiger"
with grandpa and uncle shan
laughter bounced around the room
grandpa, all spandexed-up for the bike ride,
struck his favorite poses perfectly straight-faced
again and again and again
everybody laughed, especially grandma sue...
a growing fam
a cherished morn
such a lovely, labor-free holiday