Surprise, Surprise

I have a compatible marriage.

In this world, there are two kinds of people: those who can be surprised, and those who surprise. My husband is a surprisee. I threw a surprise party for him more than twenty years ago. He saw the guest list. The day of the party, he saw the refreshments and completely bought the story that they were for a Relief Society activity. HE WAS TOTALLY SURPRISED. Since that time, he has been successfully surprised on more than one occasion.

I, on the other hand, am a surpriser. I can surprise others, but not the other way around. As I tell you this, I am picturing you thinking about how you are plotting to prove me wrong. In short, I am ALWAYS expecting the surprise. And it never comes. I can figure out what gifts are--whatever the occasion--without even trying. In fact, it is when I try NOT thinking about it that I have the most success in figuring it out. I'm not saying I enjoy this quality about myself, I am just saying that that is the way it is. I cannot be surprised.

Until today.

I am far from home, visiting my daughter and her family. My husband had asked me what I wanted for my birthday, and I had no answer. I told him that he could take me out to dinner next week when I get home.

Today there was a knock on my daughter's door, and she answered it and then came into the room holding a vase of flowers. I thought how sweet that someone would send her flowers, and asked her who they were from. She said that they were for me. I was stunned. Mind you, every year for Mother's Day and for the birthdays of my mother and mother-in-law, I send them flowers. And tomorrow is MY birthday. Still, I never expected it. I must be losing my touch in my old age.

Its great to be the surprisee for a change. Thanks, my love.

Happiness vs. Joy

Last night after I went to bed I was feeling pretty great. And I realized why that was. There is a profound difference between happiness and joy.

Happiness is getting a new camera. Or a new evening gown for the Marine Ball.

Happiness is going to Egypt. Or Sri Lanka.

Happiness is getting that super job you applied for.

Happiness is seeing that rerun of the only episode you missed from your favorite tv show.

Happiness is great. It is not, however joy.

I try to call all my children every week, since, when I'm living overseas, its not so easy for them to call me. I am not, at the moment, overseas, however, and I am not quite as filled with free time.

Saturday night my second daughter, Alyssa, texted me right as I was going to bed. I have a freaking awesome text alert on my new phone (put that alert, along with the freaking awesome new ring tones into the Happiness is... category). But it is really loud, and rather annoying when you're trying to sleep. So I put the phone on vibrate for the night, just in case. And then, on Sunday morning, I forgot to put it back on ring. And I left it in the bedroom.

I spent the day with my oldest daughter, Cassie, and her husband and daughter, Ben and Evie. Also with my youngest son, Joseph. I even went to choir practice with them. I've been having a wonderful vacation here. Later on Sunday afternoon, I looked at my phone, and realized that all three of my other children had called. I called Alyssa back and we had a great talk. Then I called Andrew, just in time for him to go to a meeting. He promised to call me when it was over. I called Daniel next, and right in the middle of our conversation dinner was ready. So we agreed that I'd call him again afterward. Which I did. Wonderful. Later, Andrew called again, and in the middle of THAT conversation, my husband, Sam, called. I detest call waiting; I think it's one of the rudest things ever invented, but when Sam calls from Africa I can't really call him back, so I take the call. Yet another super talk. I then called Andrew back, and we had a nice long talk.

After I went to bed I realized that what I was feeling was joy. Not the happiness that comes from buying something cool or seeing something new in the world, but the deep-down joy that comes from being surrounded with people you adore and who love you.

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland said something I was blessed to hear twice lately. I can't at all remember the exact words, but it was essentially that Heaven can't really be heaven if I'm not there with all my loved ones. These aren't just people I've grown used to being around. Its not just a nice idea for us all to be together forever. Make no mistake, I've got some really great friends that I'd really like to have around me in the eternities, but these people--my husband, children, grandchildren, parents, and siblings--are the ones that will make it heaven. These people are a part of me; they are infused into my soul.

And that's joy.

PS Lewis, I'm waiting for your call.

Super Samaritan Man

Yesterday I went out with my daughter for some child-free time. We had lots of stuff planned. Well, a little stuff planned, as we didn't have all day. But we were going to check out a place with lots of crafters and artisans, and then try to find the Russell Stover outlet that we saw advertised on the way to Branson. And maybe get a manicure.

We couldn't find the craft place, so we just got onto the highway and went looking for the Russell Stover place. We found it, and got some yummy chocolate. (Naturally, we went there first, and got to haul the chocolate everywhere we went afterwards, as opposed to leaving it in the car, where it would melt in the 100 degree heat. Remember this fact, as it will have bearing later in the story.)

Afterwards, we went to Walmart across the parking lot to buy a blanket for my frozen granddaughter, and then went back across the parking lot to a nail place for manicures.

Fresh from the newly drying manicures, we set off for the condo we are staying in. Just at our exit, we heard a noise like we'd driven over a stick or something, and then an ominous sound that meant only one thing: flat tire. In a tire that was less than a week old.

I've never changed a tire in my life, though I've seen it done. Cassandra either. And there we were. The one person in our party that could have done it was back at the condo with two children and no transportation. Good times. With her freshly manicured nails, Cassie managed to get the tire out of the trunk while I got the instruction manual out of the glove box. I then got the jack out. That was the extent of our knowledge. Mind you, the entire time we were striving to look as pretty and helpless as possible so that someone would stop. So far nobody had. Luckily, just as we were despairing how to use the jack, and wonderful good samaritan stopped. I think he had previously been by and circled back to save us. He was wonderful. He changed the tire and refused any reward.

And he did it so quickly that the chocolates were still nice and firm when we got them home. And also the manicures survived quite nicely, thank you.

She's a Rebel

Last week Joseph went to a school party, which included swimming. The nice thing was that they took his bus home from the party, so Joseph simply left his swim bag on the bus, in order to hold his seat, while he went to the classroom to gather his things. An oh, so helpful teacher's assistant saw the bag and took it to her classroom. Joseph found out about it when he got back on the bus and found his bag missing. The bus monitor told him that he didn't have time to go retrieve it, and that she would get it for him later. Saturday...Sunday...Monday (a holiday)...Tuesday. She didn't have it when the bus arrived in the morning, but said that she'd get it. After school she didn't have it, and told Joseph that he'd said that he was going to get it. Wednesday morning, I spoke to her and told her that he didn't know where the classroom was. She said she'd get it. Bottom line, the oh, so helpful teacher had just abandoned the bag on a table outside. It was nowhere to be found at the school, not even in the black hole that they call Lost and Found. One pricey swim bag, one swimsuit, and our best swim towel. Gone. Forever.

Perhaps you are wondering what this all has to do with the title of this blog entry. Try to imagine my feelings after trying to get this bag back for nearly a week, and then tromping all over the school in search of it today, this last day of school. Frustrated? Angry? Extremely annoyed? All of the above.

So, as we were making our way to the parking lot, we had to pass in front of the front bus in the line. A man--monitor? bus driver? who knows?--stopped me and told me that we weren't allowed to pass in front of this bus, because we couldn't see any traffic that might be coming up beside the bus, IN THE PARKING LOT. I gave him my what am I, a moron, look, told him that I was capable of looking for cars before stepping out from the front of the bus, and continued right on my way. In front of the bus. And I lived to tell about it. Go figure.

Ma Barker Lives! (In Kenya)

Today I met with one of my Young Women from church. I thought I was there to help her prepare a talk for church this Sunday. We did a bit of that, but mostly she wanted my advice on what she could say to comfort her grandmother. Here's the story:

Five years ago, her (granny's) son had a wife. A pregnant wife. Said wife went to the hospital one day to deliver her baby, and then later came back without said baby. She told everyone that the baby had been premature, and had to stay at the hospital. Apparently here its like in Romania, where only the mother of a hospitalized child gets to actually see the child in hospital. After a while, when the baby still didn't appear, the family began to wonder where it was, and then the mother said that it had died. Dad, as you can imagine, was none too happy about this, and wanted to see the body. Finally, the mother confessed that she had sold the baby for ksh 80,000 ($1000).

Dad and grandma were very upset, as you can imagine. Soon thereafter, grandma and the aunt of my Young Woman--I'm assuming this aunt is the baby's mother--went and took back the baby. The next day they awoke to find cops all over the place, and granny found out that they were looking for her. She turned herself in, and was arrested, and spent several days in jail before her family could raise bail.

Over the course of the ensuing five years, trial was set, and dna tests ordered. The father was advised NOT to do the dna test, as it was already known that he was the father. However, he did anyway, and apparently the baby purchasers bribed a doctor or two, and the blood sample was switched. Also, the father was poisoned, and subsequently died.

Grandma has been paying her lawyer with every shilling sent from her daughter living in Dubai, and with the dowery money she received a couple of weeks ago for her daughter's marriage a quarter of a century ago. But that's another story. The trial has been postponed several times, and this week the final judgment was due. Postponed again, presumably through bribery from the other side. The latest date is May 6.

The good news is that granny is officially too old to to to prison. But a hefty fine could be in order. This is the nicest sweetest old lady you'd ever want to meet. We have been to her home in the slums on more than one occasion. Humble isn't the word for it. But its home, and she deserves to be there, without all this worry.
This photo is of a
pot, yes, but in the
background is granny's
humble home.

The King of Multi-Tasking

Joseph has a bedtime routine. There are certain things that he must do every night. These things include putting on pajamas, brushing teeth, and reading scriptures. The other night I popped into his room while he was getting ready for bed. I found him sitting on his bed in his underwear, with a toothbrush in his mouth and scriptures in his lap.

Princess Please Give Me Something Worthwhile to Do!

Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess. This princess, however, didn't live in a castle. Her father, the king, had fallen on hard times, and the family was forced to make some changes. Accordingly, the royal family had sold the castle to a foreign corporation and moved into a modest three bedroom home in the suburbs.

The princess, whose name was Arabella, enrolled in the local high school, where she found that her fellow students were unaware of her heritage. They were not interested at all in Arabella's past life, but spent their time (free and otherwise) texting one another and hanging out at the mall. Arabella found this behavior puzzling, but, wanting to fit in, went to the mall to look for a cell phone. She figured that if she was seen hanging out at the mall with a cell phone, the friends would come.

That's all I've got. I just started typing and the story came to me. At least this much. I've got nothing more. I'm sure that eventually Arabella found some friends; she probably even found popularity. She was beautiful, after all. But maybe not. I really don't know. Perhaps she found her new life to be extremely lonely. Not that she had more friends when she lived in the castle. Just that now she knew what she was missing. Isn't that what its all about? We're fine, until we see what we've been missing, and then suddenly, with the same as we've always had, or sometimes even more, we are no longer fine. Anyway, Arabella may have made a better queen for her experience. Or maybe not. Maybe she started amassing uzis and grenades and killed everyone in her school, thus bringing democracy to her country. I really don't know. I just wanted to type something so that when my housekeeper came into the room she would think that I've been extremely busy, rather than knowing the truth--I was playing games, bored out of my mind while trying to stay out of her way.