(Editor's warning: This blog post is more of the journaling variety than anything else. You are welcome to read it, but will most likely find it immensely boring. These are just a few thoughts I wanted to put down for my children to read someday. Proceed if you like... but don't say I didn't warn you! )
Yesterday, I read a quote. It said:
"...you will never know the true value of a moment until it becomes a memory."
I am fascinated by which moments a mind decides to hold onto and which ones it lets slip away. What do you remember?
I remember my first conversation with Nathan. He was sitting outside his apartment reading a book. I was interested in a boy who enjoyed reading (because I'm a hopeless bibliophile myself) so I struck up a conversation. It went like this:
Me- Hi! What are you reading?
Nate- Poetry.
Me (giving brownie points to him mentally, because of all things, he's reading POETRY! He's already winner in my book.)- How neat! Would you read me some?
Nate (reluctantly)- I could, but you wouldn't understand it. It's in Russian.
I remember thinking, how often would a girl find a man who enjoys cultivating his mind with poetry, and in a foreign language to boot? That's when I knew I wanted to be his sweetheart.
When I was pregnant with Sarah, I was so sick I couldn't even drink water for several days. It was scary. I was barely surviving. After a doctor's appointment for IV fluids, Nathan wrapped me in blankets and took me to the park. He spread out a quilt under a huge tree and carried me there. He brought me bottles of bubbles to blow to boost my spirits. We laid on the quilt and watched bubbles dance in the breeze for an hour. This was a pattern he has repeated throughout our entire marriage. He is always helping me find joy in the little things in life.
One of my sweetest memories is the first time we saw Matthew on the ultrasound monitor during my pregnancy. The first thing I saw were his little fingers, shaped with the exact characteristics of Nathan's fingers. I was surprised at the way my heart swelled with love for this little person that I hadn't even met face-to-face yet. I'm surprised I recall this so well, because much of his actual birth is a blur. I don't remember holding him at all that day.
Another memory I have is playing in the empty farmer's field next to my house as a child. My sisters and I thought it was so fun to collect the old bleached animal bones in this field. We were so dismayed when my mother wouldn't let us keep the bone collection in our room. We used to explore for hours in this field, looking for similar 'treasures', like stray golf balls from the adjacent golf course. It was like pirate's gold to us, isn't that silly?
I remember taking Sarah to get her first immunizations as a baby. I remember the doctor's office perfectly. I could even tell you the picture on the wall (An embroidered picture of a mother rocking a baby...it looked like it was made in the 70's). I cried harder than she did. I thought it was a cruel thing to ask a mother to hold down her baby while it's being inflicted with pain. I cried with all of my babies when they were given shots, but with Sarah it was the hardest for me. After it was done, I rocked her and sobbed with her all alone in the room.
In second grade my mother told me she just couldn't bring cupcakes to school on my birthday. I don't remember the reason why she wouldn't be able to make the cupcakes. Was she sick, or too sleep-deprived, or too busy, or out of baking supplies? I don't know. I just remember I was so sad. My teacher felt bad for me and gave me some little suckers to hand out on the desks during recess. Just as I finished placing the suckers on the vacant desks, my mother walked into the room with decorated cupcakes. I remember feeling so relieved and happy. It meant so much to me. I'll never know what she sacrificed in order to make those treats. I wonder what little things like this my children will remember from me.
Every time I smell apple butter, I remember my grandmother's house. She would bake bread and spread it with either apple butter or honey butter. I loved her bread. It was so comforting to sit in her kitchen (where the decor seemed to never change) and eat her bread. I hear her voice and see her smile in my mind each time I taste apple butter.
My sister and I shared rooms for most of our childhood. We used to lay next to each other at night and pretend to 'draw' with our fingers on each other's backs. It was very soothing. We would talk while we made these imaginary pictures. I missed this after we moved into separate rooms as quarreling teens. I'm so immensely grateful we are good friends again.
I loved all the pets we kept in my childhood. It seemed like our house was teeming with a miniature zoo: gerbils, rats, mice, hamsters, hedgehogs, turtles, cats, dogs, parakeets, and the occasional stray wildlife we took in (like ducklings or snakes). My mother must have been driven crazy with the chaos of so many animals. I loved it and pitied anyone who was so deprived as to live without pets. We used to make colossal mazes for the rodents by taping together a hodge-podge creation built with toilet paper rolls and empty tissue boxes. I remember thinking this was the coolest way to spend a Friday night.
I remember visiting my dad in the hospital when I was seven. I seem to have more memories of my dad in the hospital rather than at home. In his closet was a box of candies. We were allowed to choose one at the end of our visit. I picked Lifesavers one week and was saving them so I could bring them along on a school field trip that was happening soon. My little sister ate my candies one day before the trip and I was devastated. After my mother came home from visiting my dad that night, she gave me a new roll of Lifesavers. It overwhelmed me that she did this. She had such heavy burdens to carry of her own, but she remembered my distress over a few paltry pieces of candy.
I remember my insecurities my first night in my new apartment in college. I felt so incredibly lonely and was just wishing someone would ask me to join their activity. I sat alone in my room, not knowing what to do with myself. I learned that I can't sit back and wait forever for someone else to take the first step. As soon as I plucked up the courage to introduce myself to someone new, I had a great time.
I remember being bullied in middle school. It was so heartrendingly difficult to just get through each school day. I dreaded interacting with anyone, so I walked to school instead of riding the bus. Even in winter. I think this is when I grew to love books so much. Books were never cruel to my heart. There were two classmates out of the entire school who stood up for me in the face of bullies. I'll never forget them or their names. They were my heroes. The value of courage was imprinted deeply on my mind from this. I also learned the meaning of true friendship.
The first time Nathan's mother met me, she swept me into a sincere hug where she held me tightly and whispered, "Welcome to our family! We are so happy to have a new daughter!" His little brothers and sister swarmed me with hugs and excitement. His littlest sister was seven at the time, and she had spent all her allowance money on little gifts for me. I felt so incredibly welcomed...they actually were eager to love me, little me!
I remember the way Daniel loved feathers. Instead of picking me blossoms like most children do, he would lovingly select the prettiest feathers from our yard. He'd bring a chubby little fistful of feathers and give them to me like it was the greatest treasure on Earth. I kept a tiny vase on my kitchen windowsill where I kept his feathers just like a bouquet.
I remember the night I gained my own testimony of the gospel for the first time. I had been reading one of my mom's books about the Book of Mormon. I felt so strongly that I should pray and ask if it was true. The answer came so unexpectedly strong and I was overwhelmed with love. I recall crying in joy for a long time in my room that night.
I wish I remembered more.
I wish I could remember the words Nathan said to me the first time we attended the temple together.
I wish I remembered my last conversation with my dad when he knew he was going to die.
I wish I could remember holding each of my babies for the first time.
I wish I remembered every special moment of my children's lives.
I wish I remembered every bit of advice my mother gave me.
I can remember times when I had to stick up for what was right.
I can remember being offered my first cigarette and beer, and turning it down.
I can remember my baptism day.
I remember learning the pain of sin, and the shame I felt when I admitted my wrongs.
I also remember the clean feeling of repentance, and the pure joy found through Christ's Atonement.
I remember laughing so hard with my brothers and sisters that tears streamed down our faces.
I remember a million positive things- Christmases, family trips, family games, service projects, feeling loved.
I don't remember how clean (or not) our house was. I remember the interactions I had, not the decor.
I am so thankful for our memories. They make me who I am- the mistakes I made and subsequent lessons learned. Aren't we each essentially a collection of past choices and memories?
I wish I knew what magical event occurs that turns a moment into a memory. There are so many important moments that I can't remember, even when I read the words I wrote about it in my journal. There are other memories of events that seem pretty trivial, but they are rendered in surprising detail in my mind, like when I cared for stray cats in college and bought them cat food even when I didn't have enough money for my own groceries.
I wish I could know which interactions with me are being recorded in my children's minds. I doubt my mother knew I would always remember the day she brought cupcakes to my class. I try hard to 'create' special moments that will linger with my children as they grow- like having a tea party with their favorite stuffed animals with teeny loaves of bread made into doll-sized Nutella sandwiches. I don't know if they will remember that party or if it is already erased in their minds.
I realized today that I feel such a close bond with my siblings because of my memories that are shared with them. Memories are what build our relationships with each other. I think it's crucial to our identity.
I'm hoping each time I create a unique moment, perhaps one of my children will record it mentally. Perhaps it adds just a little drop of glue to our family unity. That lasting value makes my efforts worth while.
I'm so thankful for each day we are blessed with, and I am thankful for each fleeting moment with our families. I hope I can use my time wisely.
