What Really Matters

Today a fire began in the house I grew up in. After talking about it with my parents and all my siblings, I still sit here trying to process it and it doesn't feel real. My sister, Melissa, lives there with her husband and two little boys. Her husband was at work at noon today when she smelled and saw black smoke in the utility room next to her kitchen. She took her sons and the phone outside and called 911. By the time the fire trucks made it there 15 minutes later (the house is in Spanish Fork Canyon, at least 10 minutes from any fire department), much of one end of the house had burned, and smoke was pouring out all over (this is from my sister - I wasn't there). 

Later, my sister and brother-in-law were allowed into their boys' room to get some clothes and diapers - that was the only part of the house they could access. We have heard that the inside is pretty gutted. Melissa and Alex lost pretty much everything they own. My parents lost a lot, including their 3 cats, newly remodeled kitchen, a table my grandpa made for my mom years ago, all mom's plants, the computer, and photo albums. We don't know the extent of the damage yet. My parents are in Arizona but are coming back to Utah on Monday to deal with everything. 

I spent a couple of hours with Melissa and her family at a Carl's Jr. They were on their way to Alex's parents' house in Woodland Hills. Luckily, Melissa and I are about the same size so she can wear my clothes. I was so grateful to be with my sweet family members. I was, and am, very aware that I could be mourning the loss of family members right now instead of just the loss of my childhood home. There is much to be grateful for. So much of what we value in this life can be gone in an instant. I am going to try to appreciate what I have more. And especially, hold fast to my family. 

Live in the Moment

First graders are great at living in the moment. I have been on recess duty this week, which basically involves wandering around the playground in the freezing cold, watching over about 100 6 and 7 year olds. I can see why all kids say that their favorite school subject is "recess". They run and shout and make up games and hang all over the playground equipment. They swing and slide and laugh. Every single one of them enjoys that 15 minutes to it's fullest. 

Today I was reminded why I didn't become a nurse. One of my students had a terrible bloody nose that bled all over him and my sink and the floor, etc. With my rubber gloves on, and trying not to think of what I was doing, I had to mop him up, then clean up after him. But the amazing thing was that after lunch he came from recess, happy as can be, saying that today was "the best day". The lunch ladies, hearing of his nose incident, gave him two lunches. And he got to wear a school t-shirt because his sweatshirt was not wearable anymore. 

Wow. I was still thinking about the bloody nose from an hour before, feeling drained and tired from my day. I realized that I need to make more of an effort to enjoy little moments and let go of burdens.

We are Here!

I love the messages that can come from simple places - books and movies and....cartoons. I recently watched HORTON HEARS A WHO again with my nieces. Now, if you are not familiar with this Dr. Seuss-based story, let me fill you in a little. Horton is a fun-loving, faith-filled elephant who finds a clover with a speck of dust on it. He hears a voice form the speck and comes to find that an entire town, "Whoville" lives within the speck. 

No one else believes his insistence that there is life on the speck, and Horton ends up needing to prove the existence of the "Whos" to all the other animals. So that everyone can hear the "Whos" and know they exsist, the "Whos" make noise and yell over and over, "We are here! We are here! We are here!" Now, you may think I am sappy, but I always have to try not to cry at that point in the story. I was wondering why that is, and realized that it reminds me of something said by Elder Marion D. Hanks: "Every human being is trying to say something to others. Trying to cry out, I am alive, notice me! Speak to me! confirm that I am important, that I matter!" 

Every once in awhile, I want to yell out my window "I am here! I am here! I am here!" But I don't.  Because I don't want my neighbors to kindly offer to drive me to the nearest shrink. But I always remember, as Dr. Seuss so eloquently stated in his story of Horton and the Whos, "A person's a person, no matter how small."