Paths Part 1

Paths

One day I biked with David and Kate down our canal and across our little desert trail that loops us back to our neighborhood. It had rained the night before and everything was still wet and fresh. It smelled like desert rain and I took a deep breath of gratitude as I pedaled - it's these type of moments that I try to bottle up and keep forever - moments on paths with the people I love most.

The paths of my childhood included biking on Sunday afternoons to see farm animals, walking on the beach in search of sea shells, circling my cul-de-sac in rollerblades with neighborhood friends, searching for hideouts near my grandparent's house in Utah, and collecting wildflowers while hiking with cousins in Idaho. I love when present day moments touch these paths of my childhood - hiking, biking and walking in familiar or unfamiliar places. The nostalgia kicks in and I feel a burst of joy and childlike wonder. Jesus said that in order to enter the kingdom of heaven, we must become as children and I wonder if heaven is much more lively and playful than I've ever imagined.

Versailles 

The summer between my freshman and sophomore year of college, I studied abroad in Europe for six weeks. We studied on the road as we toured Rome, Florence, Cinque Terre, Venice, Pompeii, Bath, and London. I only had one weekend off where we weren't traveling to a new destination, which happened to be in London. My dad has only been on a few international business trips in his life, but as luck would have it, he was sent on a last minute business trip to London the exact same time I was there. After seeing Les Miserables together in London (and running into my cousin and her husband from Utah during intermission when we didn't even know they were in London - what are the chances?!) we decided to take the train to Paris for the weekend. I vaguely remember seeing the Eiffel Tower, touring Notre Dame, riding a double decker tour bus, and eating delicious savory crepes. However, I remember in great detail biking through the breathtaking Gardens of Versailles with my dad. I wondered for a split second when we were biking (when we skipped touring the Palace of Versailles all together to continue to bike) if I would ever regret not seeing the inside, but on the second day, when we skipped touring the Louvre in Paris to go back to Versailles to bike the palace grounds for a second time, I was having way too much fun for that thought to even cross my mind. I never regretted our two days of biking in Versailles during our weekend trip to Paris. No other experience with my dad has been quite as glamorous, but when we are in the mountains or by the ocean or in the desert, I think of our two days of biking in Versailles - an experience only made possible by a series of miraculous and unlikely events and a memory that is etched in my heart forever.

Screams
6/25/09 

To my dear, brave, daughter Annie on the day I leave to meet you in China,

Twenty-four and a half short years ago, I was your age. It was a snowy, December day and I was returning to Utah after studying abroad in London for six months. I was ready to be home after a wonderful adventure and I especially couldn't wait to see my family again. I anxiously waiting my turn to disembark the plane and looked forward to seeing the faces of those I loved. I had dreamed of this moment often in the months I was away. I don't remember ever being so excited for Christmas with my family. 

As I exited the plane and walked the short hallway towards the gate waiting area, something occurred that I hadn't anticipated. From the middle of the waiting crowd, I heard a noise far louder than the buzzing of the friendly people congregated there. "Alllllliiiiiiiiiiisonnnnnnnn!!!!!" my mother screamed at the top of her lungs. At that moment, there was nobody there but mother and daughter, a mother bird calling to her adventurous baby to return to the nest.

Recently I have been thinking about mothers' screams. I remember the sad, soft scream of my mother when Grandma Libbie called to tell her Grandma Baxter died, the enthusiastic screams of your grandmothers and great-grandmothers cheering at sporting events, my shocking screams when I was in labor with you and James (was that really me?), and my joyful screams following two phone calls informing me that Elizabeth and Isaac's birth mothers were in labor. I have concluded that screams just mean love.

So instead of packing and preparing and running, and cleaning, I am pausing to write you this letter to tell you how incredibly much I love you, how proud I am of you for doing hard things, how thankful I am to have such an amazing daughter, and to warn you that when I finally see you through a busy crowd in the Beijing airport, this mother bird with probably scream! I can't wait to have you return to our nest!!

When we met at the airport, we screamed, hugged, and then we hiked the Great Wall of China, we biked X'ian's ancient city wall, we rode scooters in the rain through the mountains of Yangshou (the most beautiful place I have ever seen) and walked the streets of Hong Kong. An adventure of a lifetime.

Logan

Growing up, I always thanked God in my prayers, but I think I truly learned to praise God on my many walks home from school while attending Utah State University. Somewhere between campus and home, the gratitude would encompass me and life felt hopeful and exhilarating and beautiful.

When I close my eyes, the leaves are changing and the air is crisp, and I walk east towards the canyon from the education building, past Aggie Ice Cream and Fredrico's, then turn north to my Great Grandma Libbie and Grandpa LeMoine's cute little brick home where I lived. I think of all the people I love who have walked that same path before and I feel grateful that Libbie and Lemoine's great great grandchild's first home was also their home, overlooking the breathtaking Logan River Golf Course. I am told that I have a Heavenly Mother, and when I think of Her, her hair is as white and her body as soft as my Great Grandma Libbie's.