Seat at the End of the Table

    So, with two kids gone and two left at home, we're all working to recreate our humble and loving home life. Who will take which additional chores, who needs to drive who (where and when), new rooms to move into, empty space to clean up, and the remnants of two kids stuff to move into storage. Mostly sad stuff; just ask the kids taking on additional chores and cleaning. However, there are happy moments.

    When we eat dinner or any other meal together as a family, there is a certain precedence on who sits where. The biggest bone of contention is the seat at the end of the table, which I have reserved for the eldest child in the house. No Bar or Bah Mitzvah, Debutante Ball, Jugendweihe, Okuyi, or Russ for this family -- our rites of passage entail the movement from the bench to a chair at the end of the table. A symbol of increased age, responsibility, and prestige. Erin now sits happily upon her new throne glad, in this way, for her two elder siblings departure.

    Additionally, since we don't have the two older kids around to run herd on the two younger, it's more important that we be able to reach the two youngest by phone; hence, they each have basic phones and are still grinning ear to ear. I know I'm going to hear about this later. For Taegan, we wouldn't allow a phone until sixteen, Pat got his phone at fifteen, and now Sean and Erin have phones at fourteen and thirteen. I know we as parents have been unjustly cruel in the eyes of our eldest daughter, but there was some method to our madness.

    Most days I'm fine. I go about my normal routine and only occasionally miss Taeg and Pat. It's like having a small cut on your hand that you don't notice too much, until something acidic is applied. Then you remember the cut because of the burning and pain you're experiencing. When I go about my day and expect to see those two, and then don't, I feel it. When I get an email or letter I'm overjoyed, but as soon as I start to read I can feel a welling up inside. We received letters from Taegan and another letter/email from Pat. I'll probably share snippets here and there, but for now I'm cherishing and hoarding them for myself.

    So, that's it for now. We're just adjusting to the seat at the end of the table.

Guatemala MTC March 2013

(Pat is under the second window from the left)

Resilience

    YAY! Email from Taegan this afternoon. What a great way to end the day. Her email was great to read, and read, and read, and read to Erin, and read to Sean, and read again. Take a moment and go to her page and read it -- I posted it immediately. There was an "economy of words" driving home from work reading it with my sweet wife. OK, now that we've all read it I'd like to make a comment.

    My biggest fear of Taegan going on a mission: None. My sweet girl is tough. She's tough and strong. She's really strong. No, she's super strong. She's a super hero. A universal heroine. A Master of the Universe -- no that's He-man. OK, you get my drift. You read her post, right? She said she was scared about going. This is what I want to talk about because it's been on my mind.

    As a parent I feel it necessary to take away any discomfort, pain, or uncertainty my kids might endure. I don't, but it is an undeniable force I have to fight against. There is benefit in letting kids stretch, grow, and test boundaries. Of course, I sometimes have to put my foot down and say absolutely not because it really can't be any other way due to spiritual or temporal safety, but this also helps children grow. You must establish rules and consequences so they know the lanes in which they must operate. This allows them to feel secure enough to try new things. However, there are times they fail, and that's OK too.

    I can hear Pat saying, " You did that just to prove I was wrong." Yes, and no! I use it as a tool, not a stick. Yes, because I want them to get into the habit of seeking and recognizing wise counsel. No, because I don't want to hurt or belittle them because they chose a wrong course of action. I've heard them say to one another, when they thought I wasn't around, "Dad and Mom were right." Now I know I could only get them to repeat those lines under the severest form of torture, but even when I don't hear it, I know they're thinking it. Why, because I see them seek advice from adults they respect, act on that advice, and become more resilient in the face of adversity.

    Taegan was scared, but she went. She knew it was what she wanted to do even though it would have been easier to call us and say, "Come get me, I can't do it." So, my angst over the fear, anxiety, and pain my little ones might be experiencing was occupying my every thought. I know, trust in God brother (man, even Pat told me he was in the best hands possible). Then, sitting on the couch one afternoon worrying, I picked up our Church magazine (called the Ensign) and opened to an article. Blessing # 3: Raising Resilient Children, by Lyle J. Burrup. This article answered many questions that had been going through my mind; Did I teach them well enough? Have I made them feel strong enough? Will they feel our great love for them even when apart?

    Quote from the article: "Another mark of resilience is to see great purpose and meaning in life and people. A sense of purpose will help our children avoid giving up, in spite of setbacks and pressure to do so. If our children are becoming more resilient, they will develop deep values that guide them: charity, virtue, integrity, honesty, work ethic, and faith in God. They will involve themselves in what is happening around them and opt for commitment to values rather than feel alienated and avoid struggle. The gospel teaches and reinforces these values and perceptions." Yes, they were ready to meet this challenge.

    Then I received Taegan's email from the MTC and this was confirmed again.

    Love my kids and miss them desperately! They are heroes to me.

93 Million Miles

    So all-in-all things are going well despite the kids being away. Not much to say today because I'm still tired from a night shift last night. So, everyone sit back, relax and listen to this song that my parents sent to me (because they know me so well).

    Still no word on Taegan -- I'm thinking maybe her "Preparation day" this coming week we should hear something, if not in the mail sooner. I know she's hoping to still be around the MTC in Provo for Conference. If so, maybe we'll see her in the MTC choir. If not, she'll be attending in the Great White North, eh!

    Oh, everyone feel free to send letters to the kids. I'll put addresses up tonight. Thanks, enjoy the music!

p.s. - Blessing #2; my car insurance went down by more than half, dropping the kids. What?! Really, more than half? "Sweet Norma, goddess of personal conveyance (auto insurance agent), you are Ahhh-mazing!

Be Still My Soul

    Well, they say that blessings are given to the families of those serving missionaries. I can currently account for one. To say I went to my knees after the kids left is no exaggeration -- I prayed hard for their safety and comfort. Mostly, I thought about how our Heavenly Father sacrificed His only Son.

    I recognize some of what He went through, but I also know it had to have been so much deeper, because He knew His Son would experience unimaginable pain. Jesus underwent pain in the Garden of Gethsemane that is incomprehensible to us. Then He was subject to mock and scorn, and finally the physical pain of crucifixion and spiritual loneliness during the time His Father withdrew. As a parent I would want to come down and tear some Roman and Jewish butt up, but God knew the plan and the strength of His Son to accomplish it.

    This sacrifice was to pay for our sins, our physical pains and ailments, and the pain that others experience when our sins reach further than our own hearts and minds. The blessing I received was a peace and assurance that I am following Heavenly Father's plan, that my son and daughter know the plan, and that they are also strong enough to accomplish their parts. My favorite Hymn.

Be Still my Soul by Catharina von Schlegel

Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side.
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain.
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change, He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake
To guide the future, as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know
His voice Who ruled them while He dwelt below.

Be still, my soul: when dearest friends depart,
And all is darkened in the vale of tears,
Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart,
Who comes to soothe thy sorrow and thy fears.
Be still, my soul: thy Jesus can repay
From His own fullness all He takes away.

Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord.
When disappointment, grief and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past
All safe and blessèd we shall meet at last.

Be still, my soul: begin the song of praise
On earth, believing, to Thy Lord on high;
Acknowledge Him in all thy words and ways,
So shall He view thee with a well pleased eye.
Be still, my soul: the Sun of life divine
Through passing clouds shall but more brightly shine.

Patrick email #1

Today was a great day -- Patrick finally made it to the MTC in Guatemala. I have absolutely no details on his movement in Guatemala; I last heard from him as he boarded a plane out of Houston headed to Guatemala City. Anyhow, his words were like the Balm of Gilead in so many ways. Wish we'd here from Taeg. Enjoy!

Date: March 21, 2013
Area: Guatemala MTC
Companion: Elder Cooper

Mi familia, just wanted to let you guys know that I made it to the MTC safe and sound!! I hope you guys are all doing well and I'm loving the experience here at the MTC so far. My roomates are awesome and my companion is great!! Elder Cooper is a really fun companion to be around, and there are plenty of people here willing to teach me the language. I truly think six weeks in the MTC will go by so quickly, and I'll hopefully be ready to go out and teach the gospel to all of those people waiting for us missionaries! I don't feel homesick at all and it's just because the spirit here is so strong and always there when I need any kind of comfort!! I love the MTC and I will be thinking of you guys. I will keep you in my prayers and don't worry about me because I am in great hands!!

- Elder Hutchinson

I will get back to you with another email Wednesday, on my "P" day. I'm loving it here soooo much, you have no idea!!

Into the Wilderness

    There were flashes of memories flipping through my mind. Small glimpses of cherished moments I've had with my two oldest children. Jumping on beds, holding their hands, first days of school, high school graduations, camping trips, and such, all leaving my throat aching and eyes stinging with tears. My emotions so mixed it was hard to distinguish one from the other; happy, proud, honored, sad, and worried.

    My two oldest children left yesterday to serve missions for our church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. My daughter (22 years old), will be serving in the Winnipeg, Canada Mission. My son (18 years old), will be serving in the Retalhuleu, Guatemala Mission. Unfortunately, they both left at different times on the same day, which meant enduring two goodbyes.

    Last week we had many wonderful and precious moments as my four children, wife, and I went to the temple together, listened to Pat and Taegan's fair well talks, and watched/participated in their setting apart. There were many moments I felt overcome with emotion. My daughter gave me a hug after her last talk in church. I told her it was great and could say no more. I wanted to say, what!? A million things...I love you, I'm proud of you, don't leave me, don't grow up, I need you so much. She saw it all in my countenance. She teased a little later, but I told her I didn't say more because no more was needed, "I was practicing an economy of words." Mostly, while struggling to suppress a flood of tears, I wondered, "What have I done?"

   Yes, "What have I done?" Our male church missionaries (Elders) serve for two years and female missionaries (Sisters) for one and a half years. My family and I converted to the church about 11 1/2 years ago, after two very special missionaries knocked on our door (Elder Klingler and Elder Gardner). I remember it like it was yesterday -- since then, we have been preparing the kids to serve a mission of their own by discussing the mission, singing songs about serving a mission, how to keep yourself clean enough to serve a mission, how to pray for answers on whether you should serve a mission. Here's where the "what have I done," comes in. I taught them how to build a testimony utilizing the direction of the Holy Ghost, and they did it! Not only did they find their own testimonies, but they grew into a desire to be a part of something bigger than themselves. When do they ever listen? I tell them to do the same chores nearly every single day and yet they never (ok, hardly ever) get done without prompting. Now they listen? I'm joking...sort of. Children listen all the time, to every word we say, and more importantly, they look for the action behind those words. Now they are putting action behind their own words.

    At the airport, we all gave hugs to our missionaries and said goodbye. I again used an economy of words and watched as my two little ones walked away. As we drove home, it seemed that everyone was lost in thought. My mind kept straying to two little kids holding my hands, squeezing them tightly and looking up with smiling faces. They trusted in me to guide and direct them, play with and teach them, and love and console them. But mostly, to show them how to trust in themselves, find joy in life, love others, and be loved. Mission accomplished.

    Mostly, I'm excited to hear about their experiences and to help chronicle them, so they can remember the amazing work they've undertaken. This part of my blog will be for those purposes. To record things that are happening here at home in their absence, and to spread the news as it comes back to us from the mission field.

    The field is white Elder (and Sister) and ready to harvest. God speed.

p.s. - I would have said "God Be With You Til We Meet Again," but that hymn totally wrecked me two Sunday's ago. That is all.

First Blog

What does "Micawber" mean, you ask? One who is poor but lives in optimistic expectation of better fortune; however, I mislead you from the outset. While tis true the purse is bare and wearing a might thin, with only the meagerest of hope for improvement, I've done what every man spends his life trying to accomplish: I came from a loving home and made one of my own; watched others claw and climb for money while I attained riches untold; and found out that while love is magic, you still have to plant the beans and feed the goose.

This is our family and we'll fight you for it!