Wisdom from the lips of Marmee: A plan for finding the perfect man

Throughout my life I knew that one of my momma's favorite books and movies was Little Women. But it wasn't until recently that I think I started to understand why. I think she looked up to Marmee as an example of an incredible mother. Throughout the storyline, Marmee mothers her four daughters alone while her husband is off at war. She does an incredible job of helping them through the trying times of the teenage years, including through the death of one of her daughters. In fact, I think she may be the greatest fictional mother in literary history.

Besides the countless times we watched the movie together, I distinctly remember Mom sitting on the hard wood floor in my bedroom, reading Little Women to me as I fell asleep. There is one night I remember in particular. We had just read the chapter about Meg's trip to visit Annie Moffat. (If you haven't read the book or seen the movie or musical, do it, because this will all make a lot more sense after.) While at one of Annie Moffat's grand parties, Meg overhears two women talking about the March family. They elude to the idea that Meg will one day marry Laurie, their wealthy neighbor. One woman says, "Mrs. M. has made her plans, I dare say, and will play her cards well, early as it is." Meg, as you can imagine, is shocked by this idea. Would her mother really carry on a friendship with Mr. Lawrence, Laurie's grandfather, in hopes that one of her daughters would one day marry the young man and inherit the family fortune? I would be willing to bet that Meg, knowing her mother's character, was wise enough to know that these were not her mother's intentions. Upon returning home, Meg tells her mother about what she overheard and asks, "Mother, do you have 'plans', as Mrs. Moffat said?" Marmee's response is beautiful:

"Yes, my dear, I have a great many, all mothers do, but mine differ somewhat from Mrs. Moffat's, I suspect.... I want my daughters to be beautiful, accomplished, and good. To be admired, loved, and respected. To have a happy youth, to be well and wisely married, and to lead useful, pleasant, lives, with as little care and sorrow to try them as God sees fit to send. To be loved and chosen by a good man is the best and sweetest thing which can happen to a woman, and I sincerely hope my girls may know this beautiful experience. It is natural to think of it, Meg, right to hope for and wait for it, and wise to prepare for it, so that when the happy time comes, you may feel ready for the duties and worthy of the joy. My dear girls, I am ambitious for you, but not to have you make a dash in the world, marry rich men merely because they are rich, or have splendid houses, which are not homes because love is wanting. Money is a needful and precious then, and when well used, a noble thing, but I never want you to think it is the first or only prize to strive for. I'd rather see you poor men's wives, if you were happy, beloved, contented, than queens on thrones, without self-respect and peace."

After finishing the chapter, Mom told me of the plans that she had for me. After all, all mothers have plans for their daughters. I wish with all my heart that I could remember exactly what she said and what she told me. I can't. But I can imagine what she said. I'm sure in some aspects, it was similar to Marmee's. That first and foremost she wanted me to be happy and content with my life. I bet she talked about the importance of the gospel in finding true happiness. In talking about her plans for my future husband, a worthy priesthood holder, a returned missionary, and an eagle scout were at the top of the list. I bet she also talked about the importance to find someone who respects me, who loves the Lord more than he loves me, and who will be a great father. And of course she would have talked about the temple and the importance of working toward a temple marriage and finding someone who was working toward the same. I can imagine her also talking about getting an education, being responsible and productive, and serving well in church callings. I hope to be able to become the woman she saw me becoming, but there is one thing that I am sure of. I have found a WONDERFUL man, who I know fits all of her qualifications.

Us on the farm with just a small portion of
my cute future nieces and nephews :)

Meeting and falling in love with Nathan has been the most amazing experience. It has been easier and more magical than I ever imagined. The smoothness of our relationship has made me feel that the powers of heaven have been involved every step of the way. There must be angels attending to us. Fairly early on in our relationship, I was talking to a friend about how absolutely perfect Nathan is for me. She said, "You know, I bet your mom picked him out." A truer statement has never been said of Nate. I wish I could find the words to explain why that is. I will try, in the best way I know how. 

If you are reading this blog, you probably knew my mother. Or if you didn't, you at least know how much I look up to, admire, and strive to be like her. The woman I am when I'm with Nate reminds me of my beautiful mom. He loves me and accepts me for who I truly am. He helps me make the gospel and service the center of my life. He loves my music and encourages me to pursue my passions. He encourages me to live an active lifestyle and take care of my body. He does not expect me to spend oodles of money on clothes, or hours on end doing my makeup. In essence, the things that he loves most about me, are the exact traits that my mother exemplified and instilled in me. 

So this is my cheesy post about my fiance. (I have so much fun calling him that!) He's amazing. I love him with all my heart. I'm so grateful that Heavenly Father sent someone so wonderful to sweep me off my feet! I never expected to find someone so wonderful. It's such a comfort to know, without a doubt, that Mom would approve of him in a heartbeat! The day that the two of them get to really, officially, meet will be a miraculous one. It's a thought that I will cherish in my heart until that day comes!

Mourning With Those That Mourn: how to help people without hurting them

You’ve just heard that tragedy has struck in the Jones family. Sister Jones has been diagnosed with a brain tumor. Thinking of the struggle the family is facing tugs at your heart strings. Your mind starts to whirl, thinking about what you could do to help them. Okay, let’s be honest. The only thing you think is, “I should take them dinner!” No other thought crosses your mind, because no other ideas have ever been presented. It’s probably what you saw your mother do for those in need. It’s what they ask you to do at church. It’s like our minds have set “take them dinner” as the default response to anyone going through a tragedy. But this method leaves so many needs unmet.

The summer that my mom was sick and passed away, I was heartbroken, stressed, lonely, and I couldn’t focus to save my life. My world was spinning out of control, and I couldn’t find a way to slow it down. People tried to reach out and help, but generally their efforts made things worse. In my rapidly changing life, I didn’t need people I’d never talked to before to ask me about my feelings. I didn’t need people to look at me with eyes full of pity, telling me they understood what I was going through. And I definitely didn’t need people stuffing our fridge so full of food that I couldn’t find anything in it. No, what I needed was a sense of normalcy.

Serve according to their needs

Everyone is different. Everyone has different needs. So if everyone has different needs, why do we treat them all the same? Why do we carry a parade of casseroles, jello salads, and rotisserie chickens into the kitchen of every family facing a tragedy? That was my worst nightmare. The only things in my life that I felt I could control were breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Making meals for my parents was therapeutic for me. Mom would sit at the counter an talk to me as I cooked, answering my cooking questions as I went. After she passed away, those moments I spent with my mom became some of my favorite memories. So when people insisted on bringing us food even when we asked them not to, I got frustrated, bitter, and even more stressed. Now, keep in mind that other people may need meals. That’s why the key in mourning with those that mourn is listening to and discerning needs. You have to find out what they really need in order to be of service. Otherwise the help you provide is, well, not helpful. 

Maintain the usual relationship

It seemed that every middle aged woman I knew came up to me, put their hand on my arm, looked at me with these sad, understanding eyes, and said, “How are you doing?” It was like they wanted to be a mother figure to me. I really just wanted to jerk my arm away, frown, and sarcastically mumble, “How do you think?” But I didn’t. I put on a brave face, put my emotional walls up as high as they would go, and said, “I’m doing okay.” Everyone seemed to think they had to say something to make me feel better, or to let me know that they were there for me. But the reality was, I just wanted people to treat me the way they usually did. 

I learned that teenagers are fabulous at this! They don’t know what to say or do, so they just don’t say or do anything. The people at school that barely talked to me still barely talked to me. My friends still vented about tests and boys and how annoying their parents were. I had one friend who knew just how to make me feel loved without saying anything or invading my privacy. He would drop off a bottle of Diet Dr. Pepper on my doorstep on days that were particularly difficult. He didn’t knock, just left it there for me to find. It was perfect for me, because I knew he was thinking about me and that I could count on him, but I didn’t have to talk unless I wanted to. He knew this was what I needed because he knew me. He knew that if I wanted to talk about it, I would call him. He knew that talking to me about it would probably make it worse. He found a way to show that he cared about me without hurting me. 

I don’t like talking about my feelings, and I know that not everyone is like me. A good rule of thumb is to maintain the same relationship that you usually have with the person that is mourning. If you would normally exchange a simple, lighthearted conversation, do that. If you have the “smile and wave” kind of friendship, just keep smiling and waving. But, if you have the kind of relationship where you eat ice cream, spill your darkest secrets, and cry on each other’s shoulders, then you better go buy some ice cream, because your friend is going to need you! 

Remember that you don’t know how they feel

“My dad passed away when I was 22, so I know exactly how you feel.” I heard things like that a lot. And again, my gut reaction was not very nice. “This is my mom, and I’m 17. How is that the same?” I have four siblings, and even if they had told me that they understood exactly how I feel, I probably would have wanted to punch them. But they wouldn’t have done that, because they understood that as different people, even in the same situation, we feel differently. We mourn differently. People telling me that they knew how I felt didn’t make me feel understood. I felt it belittled what I was going through. It was probably the least sympathetic, least helpful thing anyone could have said to me.

Recognize that they’ll be hurting for a while

The hardest point in the mourning process for me was about three months after my mom’s passing. I didn’t have a funeral to plan or thank you notes to write anymore. There was nothing to consume my mind and keep me busy enough to mask the pain as there had been right after she passed. It was then that I had to face the reality of what had happened in my life. I had to learn to live without a mom. But by that point, everyone else had moved on. No one sent flowers, cards, or put Diet Dr. Pepper on my porch anymore. It was probably one of the loneliest times of my life. Mourning is a process. Everyone has a different time line. But never stop being there for your friend! 

But don't keep bringing it up either
Even years later, people want to keep talking about my mom every time anything good happens in my life. When I graduated, when I got my mission call, and when I got home from my mission the phrase I heard most was, "Your mom is so proud of you." Even today a bitter, sarcastic thought still comes to mind first. "Don't you think I know that? She was my mom. I know her. And I know she's proud of me." I know people's intentions are good. But rather than making me feel loved, this reminds me of the single most painful fact of my life: that my mom isn't physically here to experience my triumphs with me. Instead of allowing me to rejoice in my successes and move on with my life, these well-intended people force me to dwell on something that I don't want to think about. I don't want to remember that she's not there. I certainly don't want to forget about her either. I will always remember her. But I do have to move on with my life. She would want me to celebrate my successes without single thought for her. She is with me, and in quite moments I feel her presence and I know that she is proud of me. Those are the moments that mean the most. 

Knowing how to help people who are mourning is almost impossible sometimes. You’ll probably mess up more often than you’ll get it right. But the key is to remember that this is about them, not about you. I knew people had good intentions, but many times I felt they did what they did because it made them feel better knowing that they’d done something. It was about filling their need to help, not about filling our needs in our trials. You may want to help them in every imaginable way, but what they may need is a little bit of space. Or, they may need your constant companionship. They may not need anything, or they may need help with the housework and yard work. Or maybe, like me, they just need to walk out their front door in the morning and find their favorite drink waiting for them. 

Faith and Femininity

A friend of mine recently eluded to the idea that dressing up and looking nice every single day is a sign of unintelligence. She argued that if you can't go out in public "looking like crap" then there is something wrong with your self esteem. As someone who finds joy in making myself look presentable every day, I have to admit I took a little offense at this. Since this conversation, I've thought a lot about my motives for doing my hair and makeup and putting together cute outfits on a daily basis. It's also lead to a lot of follow-up conversations with my friend. I've decided that's what it boils down to: society sees femininity as a sign of weakness.

More than once in my life I've felt bombarded by media and opinions that say it's not okay to be SO feminine. Women have to be tough, muscular, independent, strong willed, opinionated, outspoken, and, last but definitely not least, a sex symbol. I've even heard men talk about how they want a woman who knows how to play video games, hunt, is super athletic, and enjoys other masculine things. Now I'm not saying that any of these qualities are negative. Many of them are good and even desirable. But I feel that as a whole the world has moved toward discouraging femininity. 

My 
"I'm playing a dainty
female in a musical" 
pose

It's gotten me thinking, where does that leave me? I like looking pretty every day. I like girly things, like pink and lace, and I really just love princess movies. The idea of finding a prince and having a happily ever after makes me almost giddy. I also love the sappy, unrealistic musicals. In fact, if I'm not playing an obnoxiously female character in a show, I'm probably less-likely to convincingly play the part. I'm not really in to the whole athletic thing; dance is my favorite form of exercise. Even in my emotions and the way I express myself I'm very much a girl. I definitely do the whole screeching, running, hugging thing when I see a close friend that I haven't seen in a while. I get worked up over stupid things that don't matter, I can be ridiculously boy crazy, and I'm not real good at masking the girly, hormonal emotions that I often feel.

I couldn't help but wonder if it's a bad thing to be so incredibly female, and if I am out of style and out of touch because of my seemingly old fashioned love of femininity. I was pondering on these ideas last night as I was going to bed, and a quote popped in to my head. After quite a bit of searching, I found it in a talk by Margaret D. Nadauld from General Conference of October 2000.

"The world has enough women who are tough; we need women who are tender. There are enough women who are course; we need women who are kind. There are enough women who are rude; we need women who are refined. We have enough women of fame and fortune; we need women of faith. We have enough greed; we need more goodness. We have enough vanity; we need more virtue. We have enough popularity; we need more purity" (https://www.lds.org/general-conference/2000/10/the-joy-of-womanhood?lang=eng&query=%22we+need+more+women+who+are%22). 

So what does this all have to do with my momma? This blog is dedicated to her, not my random soapbox rants, after all. The reason this quote so easily came to the surface of my mind, was because it had been engraved in my soul by the most exemplary women I've ever known. You guessed it, my beautiful mom! She loved this quote, and she is the perfect example of the desirable attributes listed. (Now, I'm going to speak of things that my mom IS, not that she WAS, because I know that she still embodies the attributes that she exemplified in life.)

My mom is the toughest woman I know. And yet she is also tender and gentle. She fights her battles with courage and strength, but also with grace and elegance.

She is the hardest working woman I've ever seen. She can paint and garden and move furniture with the best of them. But cooking, cleaning, sewing, crocheting, and doing other things that feminists might disapprove of are always were she loves to spend her time. 

Every morning at the crack of dawn, she was out jogging. Not in excess, just for about a half an hour each morning. She takes pride in her body as one of God's creations, but never allows that pride to make her prideful.

She does her best to look her best, but she isn't vain in any way. I remember her once telling me, "Do your best with yourself in the morning, and then once you've walked out the door, turn your attention to others." And that is exactly what she does. I don't remember her ever going out in public "looking like crap," but she isn't high maintenance. She doesn't need a lot of things. But she always tries to look her best, and then focuses on those around her.

She is a free thinker, has her own opinions, and can stand up for herself when she needs to. But mostly she listens selflessly as others express the desires of their souls. 

My mother is all of these things, because she lives what she believes. It is her understanding of her divine nature as a daughter of God that causes her to be a woman who is tender, kind, refined, faithful, good, virtuous, and pure. She understands that she has been selected by our Heavenly Father to care for her children, to bring them up in righteousness, to nurture them with kindness and care. And she knows that Heavenly Father blessed her with four daughters so that she could teach them to be women of God. 

If being feminine and enjoying doing feminine things make me more like the woman I call mom, then I'm okay with that. Heavenly Father made women to be more gentle with a purpose. It helps us to fulfill our divinely appointed role as mothers of the rising generation. My mom taught me everything I know about being virtuous woman. I hope that one day I can be the woman that she raised me to be -- the woman that she dreamed and prayed that I would become!

Little Notes

Over the years, I've saved many birthday cards and thank you notes. I have them stashed all around my room. Today as I was going through some drawers, I found a whole stash of them. Included were many from my sweet mom. I'd saved Valentine's cards, birthday cards, even a little note from my baptism day.
My favorite was this little gem:

Dear Lauren,
Thank you for the slippers! I love them. Every time I have to go out to the garbage can I slip them on and feel grateful. (And lots of other times too!)
Thanks for all of your help during Christmas. It was fun to have you around. You're always sweeet and thoughtful. My favorite words are always "What can I do to help" - as well as "I love you, Mom."
Thanks for the present and for being so good.
Love, Mom

Okay really, the woman wrote me a thank you note for giving her slippers for Christmas and managed to make it feel personal! I don't think I wrote a thank you note to her in my life. Shame on me! She was always wonderful at paying attention to the small details. I admire her for that!
Many of the notes I found include words of encouragement and love. I am grateful to her for writing those down so that I can benefit from them for years to come!

Small Mercies

So many events in our lives require preparation. And for a girl in her late teens, that usually means lots of assistance from her mom. That all changed for me when my mom passed away the first week of my senior year of high school. I prepared for a lot of things without her: Sterling Scholar, a few dances, senior pictures, graduation, my first semester of college, etc. At each of these events several wonderful women, often my sisters, stepped up to take care of me.
But since I got my mission call, her absence in my life seems to have been amplified. First it was in preparing to go through the temple. Then in actually going through. Recently, I've missed her care as I've recovered from oral surgery. But most frequently my mind has turned to the fact that she won't be able to help me shop for clothes. To alter the clothes that I find. To remind me that it really doesn't matter what I wear, because I'll be serving the Lord. I so miss her logic and love at this time in my life.
One day I was feeling particularly sad about this. I was thinking about it as I dressed for the adult session of stake conference. That night I picked out a dress that she bought me. In fact, it was from one of our last shopping trips together. At the time she was convinced that I needed more church clothes. I was pretty sure I had enough, but I wasn't one to argue when she offered to take me shopping.
As I pulled the dress over my head, I was wishing for just one more shopping trip like that. You can imagine my delight when I looked in the mirror and saw that this dress is 100% appropriate for mission service! It is long enough, has very modest sleeves, and is a light material that will be wonderful in the humid Houston climate. The thought came, "Mom helped me shop for mission clothes!" My eyes filled with tears of gratitude.
Shortly after, I put the skirt we bought that same day. Amazingly, it is long enough as well! I rarely purchase skirts and dresses longer than knee length, so the fact that I picked out two in one day is truly remarkable. I am grateful for the small mercies that the Lord provides for us. He knows the path we will take and prepares us perfectly for it. He truly is mindful of each of us!

The Perfect Companion

At the beautiful Hawaii temple during our trip to
Hawaii in 2008. Isn't this a great picture of my beautiful
mom? She was so at home in Hawaii, especially
near the temple. 

The temple was always a very important part of Mom's life. In fact, I'm sure it still is. She was a great example of going to the temple as often as possible. And she encouraged me to go frequently and do baptisms for the dead. Just after I turned twelve, she got some of my siblings together to go with me to the temple for the first time. I remember the joy of coming out of the water and having her wrap a towel around me.
Mom also wanted to serve a mission. It was her dream to be able to go serve with my dad. I am saddened that they didn't get to experience that together in this life, but I know that she is working hard to reach everyone she can on the other side.
About April of this year, I started doing family history work. Since that time, I have found over 1000 names to take to the temple. Shortly after I started, I told Mom (sometimes I talk to her like that) that it was her job to make sure the people that I was finding had gained a testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel and were ready for baptism.
I was recently talking to Mama C (a friend's mom who has become a mother figure to me) about the work I've been able to do for the dead. She pointed out that I've been doing missionary work, and that I have the greatest companion. It's so true. I am so grateful to her for pointing this out. I'm grateful that I've been able to connect with my own sweet momma in this way. We are working together for a cause that we both dearly love.
This all hit me very hard tonight as I studied scriptures with some of the people in my dorm. We read D&C 128:18 which reads:
 "The earth will be smitten with a curse unless there is a welding link of some kind or other between the fathers and the children, upon some subject or other—and behold what is that subject? It is the baptism for the dead. For we without them cannot be made perfect; neither can they without us be made perfect. Neither can they nor we be made perfect without those who have died in the gospel also..."

I testify that this is true. I have been irreversibly linked to my mom and to those relatives whose work I am doing. Without the experiences of family history work and temple work, I certainly could not be made perfect. And I know that without my mom doing the work that I can't, this experience would not be nearly as sweet. 

I am so grateful for the temple and the experiences that I've had there. I'm grateful for a mother that I know I can count on to be the most hardworking companion ever. And I am so incredibly grateful for a gospel that teaches me that I will have an eternity to continue making memories with my mom. This is a very temporary separation. I so look forward to the day that I can hold my momma in my arms and tell her thank you for doing her part in bringing these wonderful souls to the gospel. I rejoice in the knowledge that that day will come as long as I live worthy of it.


I couldn't resist throwing this out there: Those 1000+ names that I mentioned desperately need work done! I have initiatory, endowment, and sealings left. I also offer FREE babysitting to anyone taking my names to the temple, as long as I don't have to drive too terribly far. I would very much appreciate help from anyone willing :)

Halloween is all about the costumes!

With Halloween approaching, I've been thinking a lot about the costumes I've worn over the years. The first Halloween I remember, I was Minnie Mouse. If my memory serves me right, we'd been to Disneyland during the summer and of course gotten Mickey Mouse ears. Mom dressed me up in a little polka-dotted dress with a bow on my mouse ears. Then she herself dressed as my Mickey. How darling is that? My cute mom dressed up for Halloween as the second half of my costume.
The summer before I started kindergarten took us to New York where we saw Beauty and the Beast. It was on this trip that I fell madly in love with musical theater. And naturally I wanted to be Belle for Halloween. (Apparently my summer trips have a very large influence on my Halloween costumes. Maybe this year I'll be a... Guatemalan?) Mom sewed me the most beautiful gold Belle dress and altered a slip we had on hand to fit underneath it. I felt like a princess! I remember one boy in my kindergarten class that year dressed up as a lion, and everyone joked that he was my beast. I'm pretty sure he was my kindergarten crush too. It was highly embarrassing.
In second grade, I wanted to be a princess. Not any specific princess, but a princess in a tower type princess. So mom made me another beautiful dress. It was cream and blue, I think. There was probably some pink in there too, because what eight year old girly girl doesn't love some pink? She also made me a hat. You know, one of those tall cone shaped hats with material coming off the top. I can't help but wonder if that was my idea or hers, and if it was mine how on earth I came up with it.
In fourth grade, I wanted to be a good witch. She made me a red robe type thing with silver stars on it plus a witches hat to match. The stars must have taken her quite a while to sew on, and I'm really not sure how she made the hat. But she probably thanked her lucky stars (haha) that I hadn't asked her to make me a Glinda the Good Witch kind of dress.
One year in middle school, I was a genie. Think I Dream of Jeannie. I'm pretty sure we threw that one together the weekend before Halloween because by that time I'd become a bit of a procrastinator.
Last year may have been my favorite costume of all time, though. I wasn't planning on dressing up at all. In the middle of making doughnuts that afternoon (because it wouldn't be Halloween without homemade doughnuts), I decided dressing up sounded fun. So I started hunting for a costume. I came across a darling green dress that was obviously homemade. To be honest, I have no idea whose it was. Maybe Mom made it for one of my sisters. I like to imagine it was hers. But whoever it belonged to was exactly my size! It fit me like a glove. Operating under the assumption that it had been Mom's when she was in high school, I ratted my hair, flipped out the ends, and threw a headband in my hair. If you know me, you know I should have lived in the 50s or 60s. I was in heaven!
I love that Mom understood my insane need to get all dressed up. She was so willing to sew me costumes and pamper me. It's made for a lot of wonderful memories! I hope to be able carry on the tradition and spoil my kids a little on Halloween.

Personal Progress: My two most prized possessions

From the moment I started working on Personal Progress, Mom was my biggest supporter. She made an effort to frequently check in on my goals and accomplishments. If I hadn't worked on it in a while, she was always the first to encourage me to pull my books out and begin again. Almost every Sunday, she would ask me if there was anything specific I needed to talk about for my Personal Progress goals. She helped me on countless value projects, spending hours working with me on one thing or another. For my faith value project, she taught me to plant and nurture garden. As we went we discussed faith and the importance of nurturing it with the same love and attention. For choice and accountability, she helped me sew a modest dress for the Christmas dance. I cherish the hours we spent working together on that dress, and the dress itself has become very important to me. When the new Personal Progress books came out, the Relief Society sisters were encouraged to complete the program, especially if they had daughters in Young Women. Mom of course started right away. We worked through the booklet side by side, signing off each other's assignments and supporting each other.
With all this support, you'd think I would have finished much earlier than I did. But I, being a procrastinator, received my Young Womanhood medallion my very last Sunday in my home ward. I wish I had finished even just a year and a half earlier so Mom could have been there physically to celebrate with me. However, I know she's just as proud now as she would have been then!

A fun fact about the dress: My dad had this dress made for my mom
while on his mission. I've inherited it and absolutely love it!

Unknown to me, my dad sent a letter to President Elaine S. Dalton on Mothers' Day explaining to her the work that my mom and I had done together. He mentioned that although my mom didn't have the opportunity to reach her goal of finishing in this life, he's sure she finished them in spirit.
Sister Dalton wrote a wonderful letter back which said that she was including my mom's young womenhood medallion for my dad to give to me after I had received my own.
My dad gave me the medallion on the one year anniversary of my mom's passing. I slipped the beautiful gold medallion around my neck, where my own silver medallion was already hanging. I haven't worn one without the other since. The two look beautiful together. But the amazing thing is the feeling I get when I wear them. I feel so close to my mom and my Heavenly Father. I know they are proud of me and that they are always with me. Their love surrounds me every day. They are my two most prized possessions.

Dancing Around the House

I'm a lot like my mom in a lot of ways. For example, we both love to dance! I don't mean dance in the way it is often seen today: ballet, hip hop, jazz, etc. I mean we share a love for partner dancing, folk dancing, charleston, and so on. She taught me many different kinds of folk dance. In fact, she may have even taught you some folk dance through the years. She often taught at elementary schools and would sometimes practice the dances with me at home to refresh her memory. For a long time, I wanted to go to BYU just so I could join the folk dance team. I wish there were a folk dance team up here!
She also taught me to hula. Not that I was ever any good, but I did have fun trying. She taught me to waltz and would often waltz around the house with me. When I was really little I remember turning on music and the two of us would dance around the house. (I think she probably cleaned as she danced, knowing her.)
Today as I learned the charleston in my Big Band Swing dance class, I couldn't help but think of the woman who had taught me to charleston. How she had gotten out Grandma Fisher's flapper dress so I could charleston in it and feel like a real flapper girl from the 20's. I so wish that I could go home on weekends and show her everything I've learned. That we could, once again, dance around the house to a style of music that we both love. I miss those special moments and the love that we shared for each other and for dance!

365 long days

One year. Twelve months. 365 days. No matter how you look at it, that’s a long time to go without a momma. A year ago today at about 2 AM, my sisters and I gathered by my mom’s bedside to mourn her passing and celebrate her life. For such a hard time, those are sweet memories. The year that followed has held many more sweet memories and some very hard times. 

Warning: there are a few random rants. I thought about taking them out, but I believe that they are an important part of my journey. 

School: My first day of senior year was just days before Mom passed away. I so wished that she had been aware enough to talk to me about it! After her passing, I stayed out of school for a while. Going back was terrifying. I didn’t know how people would treat me. If you know me well at all, you know that I hated the words of “comfort”, the hugs, the questions, and the sympathy. But school actually turned out to be one of the easiest places to be. Sure, people gave me weird looks. They acted kind of awkward because they didn’t know what to say. But I was usually surrounded by friends who understood what I needed and could distract me from my pain. 

Seminary also became one of my favorite places. There I felt that I could completely relax. I could let my guard down and focus on feeling the spirit and learning about the gospel. I had many amazing experiences there that brought me closer to both my Heavenly Father and my mom.

Sundays, church, and the Coburn family: Sundays were my most difficult day for a long time. They were days that I generally would have spent a large part of with my mom. They were also days that I was expected to face my ward. These people had been such a large part of my mom’s life! They too were mourning. This meant facing the well-meaning ward members that would hug me, look at my sympathetically, and ask, “How are you doing?” To which I would always put on a brave smile and say, “fine” even though what I wanted to do was glare at them with a very sarcastic, “How do you think?” For weeks I would drag myself out of bed for church and at some point between getting out of bed and arriving at church, decide I just couldn’t do it. Sometimes I would even pull up in the parking lot and then just drive away. 

I remember one particularly difficult Sunday. I probably hadn’t gone to church, which meant that I had spent all day in bed with far too much time to think. By evening, I was practically hysterical. I needed moral support. I needed a mom. I drove to the Coburn’s house and burst in to tears basically the moment I saw Mama C. I will never forget the words of love and kindness she offered. How I love her! 

It wasn’t long after that that I started going to church with the Coburns. The whole family was so good to me! They took me in as one of their own and loved me. I’ll miss them when I’m far away in Logan. 

Turning 18: My birthday was one long month after Mom’s passing. My friends and family went out of their way to make it a great day for me! That took some of the sting out of my first birthday without Mom. It didn’t make it easy, but it made it better. Over all, it was a good birthday!

Halloween: Our family Halloween tradition has been to have the family over for dinner before the trick-or-treating began. Chili and donuts were usually on the menu. Halloween has never been one of my favorite holidays, but I wasn’t willing to give up the donut tradition. I’d helped Mom make them a couple of times, so I thought I might be able to figure it out. And I have to say that I did! They were tasty. I was so proud of myself!

Sterling scholar: Auditions for our school’s music sterling scholar came up quickly. And I experienced the stress of finding an accompanist. To this day, it stresses me out. Mom was always my accompanist! She felt the music with me in a way that no one else will ever be able to do. It wasn’t always perfect, but I knew I could depend on her to get me through the piece. I trusted her. We made a good team in that way.  I also had to put together a resume and a portfolio without her there to tell me where all the information I needed was. I looked through lots of boxes for random certificates and such things. 

It was then that I experienced my first “your mom would be so proud of you” moment. People mean well. I know that. But I don’t need anyone to tell me that my mom is proud of me. I’m aware. We had a close relationship before and we have a close relationship still. Times when people feel the need to say that are times when I should be celebrating, focusing on myself, and looking forward to the future. Mention of my mom sends me right back to the past and things that could have been, were she still with us. I hope that as life goes on, people will allow me to celebrate the way my life is now. I love my mom. She is a part of every little thing I do. I would rather not be reminded that she isn’t with us when I should be celebrating. 

Joseph: It’s been a dream of mine for a few years to do a show with my dad. I was so excited to be cast in Joseph with him! It was so fun to play his “daughter-in-law” and interact with him on stage. It was weird to be in a musical and not have Mom around. She and I had a lot of good times because of theater too. But it was so great to have a distraction and something to do!

Saying goodbye to my best friend: In April, my best friend left on his mission. It wasn’t an easy thing for me. He was my moral support, and I missed him like crazy! (I still do.) I felt really lonely for a while. Without either Mom or Taylor there to talk to, I was kind of at a loss. They were both such major parts of my life. How is it fair that they both had to leave me? But that’s the thing. Life isn’t fair. If it were, we’d never learn anything. I’ve had to learn to rely on the Lord first and foremost. I’ve learned to love myself without needing someone else to boost my self confidence. Mom is serving her mission on the other side, and Taylor’s serving his in Alaska. I look up to them both and am grateful for the service they are doing. 

Prom: Every girl expects her mom to be a huge part of her senior prom. But seeing as mine couldn’t be, my sister Rachelle took over. She went dress shopping with me and helped find a gorgeous poofy pink dress and all the accessories to go with it. Then she came and helped me get ready. I had more fun that night than I ever could have dreamed of!

Graduating: I never expected to experience graduation without Mom by my side. It’s a busy time, from senior pictures to the graduation ceremony. My sister Becky came to my senior picture photo shoot to help me with outfit changes and make sure my hair and makeup looked ok. She also went shopping for a graduation dress with me. It made the time that much easier.

I was excited to find out that my dad would be speaking at my graduation! It was a moment I had dreamed of since he was first appointed superintendent. And it was so fun to be on the program with him! It’s a day I’ll never forget.

Pirates of Penzance: Sometimes theater isn’t all fun and games. Sometimes you have disappointments and drama. I was overdue for some theater drama, since the last few shows I’ve done have been fun and carefree. But I’ve never had to face the music without my mom. Mom’s give emotional support that no one else can. They also give some pretty good advice! I’ve missed her a lot during this show. I wish she could have helped me through the rough patches. I have, however, learned to problem solve. It’s been a good experience to grow and learn. (And now the drama is over and the show is just fun. Come see it!)

Personal Progress: I just recently finished Personal Progress and received my Young Womanhood award. It caused me to reflect upon all the projects my mom helped me complete. We worked side by side on the garden one summer and talked about principles of faith. She helped me sew a modest dress for a dance. And eventually she started working on her own Personal Progress. We discussed many topics that the program outlines and signed projects and experiences off for each other. I am so grateful for the opportunity I have had to learn and grow along side my mom!

College: Tomorrow I embark on an adventure of my own. I am so excited! I wish Mom could have been here to help me get ready and to set up my dorm with me. I would have had such a great time telling her what I’m learning in my music classes. But I am so excited to move on! I know that she will be with me. And I hope that as I start this new chapter of my life, things will get easier. I have had many people tell me that the first year after a parent’s passing is the most difficult. I certainly hope that they’re right. I pray that this year will be less painful and more fun.

Momma, I’ll love you forever. I’ll like you for always! 

As long as I’m living, your baby I’ll be. 

I love you! 

Trips

As we've been preparing to go to Guatemala these last few days, it's been very exciting. But at the same time, I haven't been able to shake the strange feeling that's accompanied the anticipation. It had me confused for quite a while, but I've recently realized where it's been coming from. Mom won't be going with us.

My life has been filled with lots of vacations. It's something that always leaves my siblings whining about how spoiled I am. Many trips came because of trainings that Dad had to go to for work. Mom and I would spend the day playing while Dad was in meetings. And then in the evening the three of us would find something to do together. Some trips were far enough away that we took a plane and played games on the way. Others were road trips, and Mom would always bring Harry Potter to read to us along the way. When Harry Potter was involved, I didn't mind riding in the car so much.
I will never forget the summer after 8th grade. We went on three fantastic trips: Mexico, Hawaii, and Washington DC. Mexico and Hawaii were exotic and lovely. We enjoyed the beauty and adventures we found in each location. But surprisingly, the most important time of that summer was spent in Washington DC. I didn't understand at the time how much those memories would come to mean to me.
Kids Are Music was going to Washington DC on tour. Mom and I decided to go! (Dad didn't come with. I don't remember why.) We had so much fun together! Dashing across the mall in the pouring rain from one Smithsonian to another, scrambling to eat lunch while walking quickly from the capitol building to the Holocaust Museum, holding hands as we walked the streets of the city. We probably spent more time in the art museum there than anywhere else. I think it was the first time I knew that my mom loved beautiful art. With Mom pointing out the detail and the beauty of the artwork, I quickly came to love it just as much as she did. Experiencing it together was wonderful. We even got a hand-held tour guide type device that would tell us about different pieces as we walked through.

In a time when I could easily have chosen to go off with my friends, I chose to stay with my mom. I think that speaks volumes about the relationship we had. She was, in many ways, my best friend. I felt safe and loved with her.
I am so grateful that we took the opportunity to go on so many trips while she was alive. We learned a lot about each other and about the world as we did so. And I learned so much from her as she took the opportunity to teach me something on each new adventure. I will miss her very much as Dad and I embark on a new adventure, but she will be in my heart the whole way. I so look forward to the adventures that I know we will have together in the next life. Love you Mom!

Summer

Summer was always my favorite season with Mom. It seemed it was a time meant just for us! If you know either of us well at all, you know that it's the only time we're warm. We both adore the sun and the green and the flowers. And the fresh fruit!
The days seemed lazy and laid back, and yet they were so very full. They started with the two of us walking over to the track for a jog at about the same time as the sun was rising. She was patient with my knee; I have a hard time running on hard surfaces. I was patient with her slower pace. We had a lot of good conversations during those early morning walk/jogs. And of course, we admired the sunrise. Because nothing of beauty ever escaped Mom's notice.
Then we'd head home for breakfast and to teach our piano lessons. Sometimes later in the morning, we'd grab racquets and balls and head to the tennis courts. I wasn't ever very good, but I did learn how to hit the ball to the side of the court that she wasn't on and enjoyed watching her run back and forth to return the balls I hit.
After that we generally went our separate directions as far as schedule went. But I relished in those mornings. They were full of such happiness and joy! What I wouldn't give to share just one more of those mornings with her!

Angel

I tried and tried to write a post that would do justice to my amazing momma.  But this was impossible to do in just one post, so I turned to my usual solution.  Music!  I sang this song in Relief Society on Mothers' Day about five years ago.  I believe it was the first time (and one of the only times) that I've cried when singing.  I didn't realize then just how much this song would come to mean to me.  It represents everything that I believe in!  God sent an angel to watch over me, and she will never stop doing just that!  She will always love me and look after me.  I have felt her in my life more times than I could have ever imagined I would.  She's been in the flowers, the scriptures, the warm sunshine, and beautiful music.  She lives on through everything that she taught me and through the many ways that I am so like her.  I love her forever and always.  I am so grateful for my guardian angel on a daily basis.  I love you, Momma!

Things my momma always said

Everyone can relate to this.  Our parents have those certain sayings that only they seem to say.  Often they are met by eye-rolls from the children they are directed at.   But despite this fact, we learn incredibly valuable lessons from each and every one of them. 

Ah the classic momma saying.  "Don't give up what you want most for what you want now" was something I heard probably about once a week.  I don't know if that's how it was with all my siblings, or if she just knew how often I would need to hear this.  Yes, at the time it annoyed me.  But now I am so grateful to have been taught this!  Any time this phrase comes to mind, I know Mom is up there telling me to take a second look at my goals and the steps I'm taking to get there.

Every time I had a problem that I was freaking out about, I heard this at least once.  And it was probably the most annoying thing in the world.  Little did I know, however, that I was learning not to sweat the small stuff, something I've never been any good at.  Mom must have recognized this fault in me and always tried to help me find a way to calm down when freaking out was not necessary.  Which, she taught me, it never is.  I'll be working on this one my entire life!  But she definitely gave me a head start when I was younger.

Here's another one I heard while I was stressed about things.  This one annoyed me too, but it is such an important lesson to learn!  Mom taught me to love, and to love unconditionally.  She taught that love is the best way to solve any problem and that anger only creates more problems.  She showed me that when someone hurt you or made life difficult for you, you don't retaliate.  You kill them with kindness.  You find a way to serve them.  I've learned that, not only does this act help me to forgive the wrong-doer, it also takes away some of the stress and hurt that they caused.

After Sister Dalton's talk on doing hard things, this became Mom's moto.  We had plaques with this phrase on it in several places throughout the house.  She even wrote a song about it.  I think if Mom could have only left me with one message, it would have been that I can do anything I set my mind to.  Nothing is too difficult or out of reach.  Anything can be done with a bit of hard work.

Most importantly, my momma taught me to look at the big picture.  This life is far from easy.  But, in the end it will all be worth it!  When I can look up at my Heavenly Father and know he is proud of me, when I can once again kiss my mom on the cheek and tell her I love her, I know that I will look back on the tough times I had here on earth and say, "It really was worth it!"  I will always be grateful to have been raised in a home where the gospel was not only the focus, but the way of life.  

Tangled

Tangled came out the winter before Mom was diagnosed.  I saw it first and raved to her about how darling it was.  She took the grandkids to see it soon after that and absolutely loved it!  (Who wouldn't?)

I was home one Friday night with cancelled plans and nothing to do.  Dad was out of town, I think, and due to the tumor, Mom's brain wasn't functioning as it once had.  So I took it upon myself to entertain her!  The movie had just barely come out on DVD and I was dying to see it again.  I hopped in the car, ran to Smith's and picked up a copy.  We spent the night watching it together :)  

She pointed out the wonderful similarities between the plot and our Heavenly Father's plan.  He desires that we look to the light and let it lead us back home. He hopes that the light will teach us our true identity... that we are sons and daughters of a King.  But he knows the journey won't be easy for us.  We will face wicked witches who do everything to keep us from learning who we are and people trying to steal our crown.  But she also pointed out that Repunzel went through the whole thing with a smile on her face and a song in her heart.  She changed the world around her along the way.  

I'm so grateful for canceled plans, and a mother who taught me so many wonderful things!

My side of the story...

I realized that I haven't really ever shared our family's story from my perspective, and though this might be an appropriate place to do so.  A lot of the details of the last year are blurred by pain, shock, and denial.  My timeline is a little hazy, so things may be out of order.  Accuracy isn't really what I'm going for here.
Just over a year ago, Mom started to be very forgetful.  It seemed to come on very suddenly and was very scary.  I am ashamed, now, to admit that I often got frustrated with her.  I remember looking for something one day for about a half an hour and not being able to find it.  About every five minutes, Mom would ask what I was looking for.  By the fourth time, I wasn't so patient with her.  Then there were days where I would come home with 15 minutes to gather my things and be out the door for a rehearsal or performance, and she would have picked things up in my room and put them who knew where.  I hope that one day I will be able to apologize for my frustration and impatience.
Mom had an MRI done the first week of April.  That's when they found the tumor.  I refused to freak out about it until I knew if it was cancerous or not.  I think I was in denial.  I was in the kitchen when Mom came home from the doctor a few days later.  I looked up and saw tears streaming down her face.  I asked her what was wrong.  She kind of sighed and said, "Oh, it's just cancer."  I hugged her and we sobbed together.  I know they told me the details of the tumor, it's official name, what stage it was in, how big it was, stuff like that.  The pain, shock, and confusion I was feeling blocked all that out.  The one thing I know no one told me was her prognosis.  That wasn't discussed until much much later.  At least not with me.  The day I found out my mom had a brain tumor was by far the worst day of my life.  The bishop and stake president came and gave us all blessings.  During Mom's blessing, I listened specifically for him to say that she would be cured of the cancer.  But he never did.  I think I knew at that point that we didn't have much time left with her.
The following weeks were difficult.  She was traveling to Salt Lake daily for radiation treatments.  I took over the housework and the cooking.  I was very anal about absolutely everything.  This really isn't that rare for me, but this was pretty intense.  I would freak out when people brought dinners.  I still can't really explain why, it just bugged me.  I couldn't control the downward spiral my world was taking, but I could control what food got placed on the table.  I am grateful for that time, though, because I learned a lot about cooking.  Mom would sit at the counter as I cooked and try to answer my questions.  She usually could.
Pretty soon, her sodium levels dropped.  In 24 hours she went from being able to go on evening walks with my dad to barely being able to get out of bed.  She became so frail and sick and so very confused.  It was so difficult watching my dad help her walk to and from the bathroom and try to get her to eat.  Dad resisted taking her to the hospital, but I think that's what ended up happening.  She returned to her previous level of health.
Some of the people that visited frustrated me too.  They would come and start talking to her and then start crying, and she ended up comforting them.  Or there were people that came and asked her for advice.  The poor woman could barely find things in her own kitchen, and people expected her to be able to give advice for hours.  She was always tired after people came to visit.  Socializing takes a lot of effort from your brain, and that made it difficult for her.  But she was still always sweet, understanding, and caring towards those that entered our home.
I was glad when summer came and I could spend my days at home.  I went on trek in July.  Not only did trek seem daunting, but I was nervous to be gone for that long.  I thought of her a lot as I walked.  And worried.  And prayed.  I was glad I took big sun glasses, because I also did a lot of crying.  I was grateful to get off the bus at the end of the week and see her waiting for me.
Soon after trek, Dad and I headed off to New York with Nessa for a shortened version of a trip Mom had started planning the previous fall.  We saw the sights of New York, including Wicked, of course, and then headed to DC for some sight seeing there.  My sisters took care of Mom while we were gone.  The following week, Dad had meetings in Virginia.  I stayed with Mom during that week.  My most vivid memories come from that week.  We started out the week very well, going to the 24th of July parade with Becky's family and to lunch with Uncle Byron and Aunt Joan.  She deteriorated quickly, though, as her sodium levels decreased again.  Rachelle came to help me take care of Mom one day and called the doctor. He came to see how she was doing and suggested we take her to the hospital.  Within moments an ambulance was there.  And so were the neighbors.  That was another frustrating thing in this experience.  We seemed to have absolutely no privacy and no space.  And we did some comforting of other people ourselves.

This was taken while Mom was at Huntsman.
It was Rachelle's idea.  She told Mom to smile, which
obviously worked.  I think Mom forgot she
was smiling, though, because that smile stayed
on her face for quite a while after the picture.
It was so great to see her smile!

Dad came home from his business trip a day early so he could be with Mom.  We transfered her from MacKay Dee to the Huntsman Cancer Institute.  It was there that we had to make incredibly difficult decisions.  We had to choose between continuing treatments and letting her go.  The chemo and radiation we had been attempting previously were not working as the doctors had hoped they would.  We decided to try one last treatment.  The next day, we moved her to a care center here in Ogden.  For a few days following the treatment, she seemed to improve.  She was more aware of her surroundings and was able to laugh and joke with us.  She went downhill after that, though.  We each spent hours helping her walk the halls of the care center.  If one of us was there, she was decently happy.  Otherwise she was sad.
She spent the last few weeks of her life at home.  We took turns taking care of her and talking to her.  And, for the first little bit, helping her walk around the house.  I helped her walk to the front room one morning and played and sang for her.  My only regret during this time is that I never really said goodbye to her.  I just couldn't bring myself to do it.  But I think she understood that.
A few days after my senior year started, I woke up about 11:30 with terrible cramps.  I got up and took painkillers, soaked in the tub for a bit and then moved to the tv room where I put on Anne of Green Gables and drifted off to sleep.  At 2:00 AM on August 26, my Dad woke me to tell me that my sweet momma had passed away.  My siblings came and spent the wee hours of the morning together.  We cried a little, but mostly we enjoyed each other's company.  We joked and laughed as we looked through scrapbooks and planned for the funeral.  I'm grateful that she passed in the middle of the night, because it gave us a chance to have some privacy and some time as just a family.  Those were probably some of the most peaceful hours of the whole ordeal.  At one point, just after everyone had arrived, we'd been joking and laughing a little and we looked over at Mom.  The corners of her mouth seemed to have turned up into a small smile.  It made each of us smile, knowing that she must have been looking down on us with a smile on her face too.

Sunday Evenings

I've thought a lot about Mom today.  I usually do on Sunday; that's what makes Sundays so hard.  During the week, Mom would get really busy.  She was always running around doing amazing things for people and my time with her was often limited.  That's not to say that she didn't take care of my dad and me.  The house was always spotless and dinner was on the table, no matter how busy the day had been.  I was usually busy too with music lessons and school, so there was not much quality time for my mom and I.
However, Sunday evenings were sacred for us.  It was our time to do what we loved.  To make music.  She would sit at the piano and I would grab my violin.  We'd play whatever I'd been working on, and maybe a few old songs.  Eventually I'd turn to her and say, "Mom, can we sing now?"  If she felt I'd done enough violin, she'd allow me to move on to my true passion.  This was my time to try singing absolutely anything.  I could put anything in front of her, and she could play it nearly perfectly.  Oh how I cherished those times!
If I could have one more day with her, I'd probably want to spend at least half of it this way.  It's not something we could do the last few months of her life, because playing became very difficult for her.  That was so frustrating for her!  But I will always look back to the times we spent at the piano as ours.  Just me, my mom, and our music.      

Musicals

This week, Dad and I started rehearsing for our very first show together!  I remember telling Mom once that I absolutely love Joseph and that one day, I'm going to play the Narrator.  She said, "You'd have to do a lot of memorizing!"  I responded, "No I wouldn't, I already know it all!"

It would be absolutely impossible to go through the audition process without thinking of Mom.  She always accompanied me and helped calm my nerves.  It will be even harder when the show starts and I don't see her face in the crowd.

Besides just helping me at auditions, Mom was always willing to do whatever needed to be done to get the show on the road.  She spent eons sewing costumes.  She also stuck with us through dress rehearsals so she would be on hand if anything needed fixing.  I remember her running to the store right before shows started to pick something up last minute.

She also spent hours and hours helping me with my hair.  When I was in Beauty and the Beast, she spent every night before a performance putting curlers in my hair.  With twenty six shows, that really adds up!  During Oklahoma! she came with me on my crazy pre-show errands, helping me pick out fake hair, eyelashes, and the right color of lipstick.  She never was a shopper, but she didn't seem to mind coming with me on these trips.  

Above all, she supported my crazy love for musical theater.  She always encouraged me to pursue my passion and to do it in a way that would make her proud.  Any time I was frustrated with a situation, she did everything in her power to make it easier for me.  This included offering to be a producer, helping me with dancing, and simply sitting down to talk with a director that needed some help.  I love her for all the hours I know she spent, and all the hours I don't know about.  

Marriage

My parent's anniversary was Sunday, December 18th.  My dad proudly announced that it was their 42nd anniversary.  They never made a huge deal of the event through the years.  We knew they gave each other gifts and that Dad brought Mom roses.  What I remembered that day was the wonderful example that they set for all of us of what a marriage should be like.
They never hesitated to hold hands in public or kiss in front of us.  Their kisses were always met by dramatic "yuck"s and "ew"s.  But I'm so grateful that I know my parents love each other.  Sometimes they'd have disagreements in front of us, but I know they tried not to argue when we were around.
I knew from the way they looked at each other and talked to each other that they were just as in love as they'd ever been.  They took care of each other through illness with such love and tenderness that you'd have to be crazy to not believe it.
I pray that one day I'll be able to find that kind of love for myself.  I'm so grateful that my parents taught what to look for and not to settle for less!

Christmas Cookies & Holiday Hearts

Our Christmas season always started with Christmas cookies!  I swear Mom spent at least 50% of the holidays in the kitchen.  The house always smelled delicious when I got home from school!  We kicked off the season with gingerbread houses the day after Thanksgiving (which I tried to do this year and failed at miserably).  I always ate so much candy and gingerbread dough that day that there was no need to eat lunch.
Closer to Christmas, Mom would invite the grandkids over to make and decorate sugar cookies while their parents did some Christmas shopping.  I hope that my nieces and nephews remember how fun those times that they got to spend with Grandma were!
One thing that always made Christmas feel Christmasy for me was the fudge.  Mom's fudge was delicious!  Hopefully I can find her recipe somewhere.  (And understand it.)  If I could be half as good at cooking as my momma was, I'd be one happy girl!