Light the World by Calming the Storms

John & I went through an informal food storage inventory last night; how are we prepared, in case of winter storms?  The race to the store for toilet paper, bread, eggs & milk is a cultural tradition here!  Bread shelves quickly empty.  I can imagine everyone huddled together making french toast until the power goes out.

We really should review the 72 hour emergency kits we have.  So many children have left home.  As Suzanna goes back to school in January, we only need 3.  It might be time to give away some of the gathered supplies to a younger family (paying attention to the expired vitamins & medicines, as our son in law has taught us, it isn't just a suggestion, but a scientific laboratory tested truth that ingredients have a shelf life, decompose, and will not work as they age, and can cause harm instead of helping.  Before Dean's teachings, I really thought that was a money making myth, just so we would buy more product.)

Bundle an extra clean pair of socks into the pocket in the car seat as emergency gloves.

Buy oatmeal-has a great shelf life!

Rotate what you have already stored.

Tell your college daughter that the TVP you are sending to her is vegan!  Life-sustaining, and cheap!

Light The World Honoring the Sabbath

My mom is the best example.  For the last 18 days she has consequently blogged of her experiences following the #lighttheworld project as seen here https://www.mormon.org/?cid=HP_FR_25-11-2016_dMIS_fmorg_xLIDyL1-A_ 

I haven't been reading her blog every day, so I had to play catch-up, this Sabbath morning. 

John leaves for a church meeting at 6 am, so we are awake early.  After he leaves I spend the time emailing my weekly letter to our missionary son, and briefly see what my long-distance family is doing.  We aren't in the habit of phone calls (we have an awesome brother-in-law who chats daily with his parents & siblings. DAILY!  I admire that), or visiting as often as I wish. 

Geography is a challenge if face-to-face communication is your love language preference.  Skpye is ok, but feels like an appointment, a little stiff.  Maybe it is the hugging I miss with the contact.  I crave the physical reassurance and communication of love through touch. 

A once-a-week check in with our spiritual selves, an assessment of our spiritual well-being and health makes sense.  I believe the Old Testament teaching that the Lord made it a holy day.  He sanctified it.  Our "keeping the sabbath day holy" is up to us, how we interpret that.  It will still be a holy day, with or without us.  The old Blue Laws that enforced store closures and alcohol sales on Sunday am have slowly been dismissed.  It has turned into a big shopping day, chore day, networking day, and even a work day for many.  And I will say right here, I am thankful for the emergency workers, doctors, nurses, police and firemen and their sacrifice to work all week.)

I have a memory of attempting to persuade my dad that my doing the dishes was breaking the Sabbath.  He pointed me back to "Honor they father and thy mother..." and there may have been some ox in the mud references.  I did the dishes.

Over the years I have tried different things, including no sewing, no painting, no school homework, no fun novel reading (just scriptures), no tv, newspapers, no facebook, no friends, no restaurants, and probably too long of indulgent napping.  The exceptions have been specific, for example, watching the First Presidency Christmas Devotional live the first Sunday of December ever year, or supporting family reunion restaurant gathering for non-member family (I would do anything for Great Grandma Billie).

It has been more productive to think of the yes-we-can-do instead of the no-don't-even-think-about-it restrictions for the day.

Do go to a worship service of choice.
Do spend time with family and learning about ancestors.
Do support good friends in achievements.
Do celebrate holidays!
Do community service.
Do rest from the craziness of all the other day responsibilities and burdens.
Do find time to pray and ponder life.
Do spend time remembering and renewing commitments and promises.
Do simplify and lessen the burdens of others. (Sometimes that means paper plates and less elaborate meals!)

I like to think of the Sabbath as a day to get back in touch with what God wants me to do.  I try to plan what my priorities should be for the week, to seek counsel on troubles and concerns, to brainstorm for solutions.  It is a good day to ask Heavenly Father for help.  Loving the Sabbath leaves me with a feeling of love, peace, joy, gratitude, and kind, swelling and warm feelings.  And that touch of grace makes my week flow better.

Martha and Giving Thanks

Last year I purposefully painted the kitchen floor (silver glitter sparkles!) making it "impossible" to cook a traditional meal.  I felt rebellious, angry, and sad, as we marked and endured the 2nd Thanksgiving after our son's suicide.  John bought frozen turkey potpies and the four of us left at home sat solemnly around the table.

A month ago, right after Halloween, I turned over in bed and announced to my husband of 27.5 years that we needed to have a social Thanksgiving.  Invite strangers over that would make us duty-bound to celebrate. 

Our Utah children were at my parents in SLC, cared for, fed, a chair for them at the table.  I was not worried about them.  Samuel is Elder Landbeck in Arizona, and I was confident one of the members was taking care of him and his companion.  We had our daughter home from her mission and our 15 year old baby.  Again, four of us, which seems like every dinner every night.

We invited two families from church with young children, an older couple with family out of state, and a young widower, 22 people!  Twin toddlers, an au pair from Argentina, happy kids on the trampoline and swings in our backyard were wonderfully noisy and full of life.  I gave away the plaster horse bust, made sure left-overs were bagged and in the fridge ready to go home with everyone.   I was so busy Thanksgiving Day that there was no time to mourn, no time to grieve or be sentimental about missing anyone. 

It was not until 2:30 am, after the flurry of cooking and chatting and cleaning up and 5 hours of sleep, that I had time to be still.  As a family we read Matthew 15  (or 16?) last night and the theme was "Abide."  I have never thought of that word as something I wanted to do.  It sounds too much like being still.  I caught myself in another scripture: the commandment to "be still." Jesus Christ urges us to "abide" with Him.   That sounds so quiet, relaxed and not busy, really not me.

John eventually woke up from his cough medicine-induced sleep and I told him my middle of the night thoughts.  I had spent the whole Thanksgiving Day purposefully busy and full of strangers that left no time to think of Maxwell or dwell on him missing from the table.   Asking for help to apply the Atonement to my grief, my missing Max, praying for others who have lost loved ones--hoping they are okay this weekend and comforted, knowing their holiday dinners are lacking everyone they wished were there, too…

John pointed out the burden of Martha (Martha & Mary, sisters) of staying busy, worried about details, maybe sharing that driven, and work ethic of busy-ness that I feel all the time.  I have to stay working because there is always more to do, more to take care of, and stopping makes me have to think, crescendos the feelings of sadness and loss.  Talking about feelings makes me feel them stronger.  I wallow, and am swallowed up in the intensity and become non-functional, unable to continue to do, work, move.  The work keeps me balanced, but it can be frustrating for John who wants to discuss, draw out the thoughts and feelings, analyze and put in perspective what is happening.  I want the words to disappear sometimes.  I do not want to sit still, by discipline or knowing that it will be harder to start working again.  John wants to plan, be thoughtful and make sure the discussion covers all contingencies, order the tasks, and visit, plan for the after action reports, etc.

How do I take time to be in the moment, be quiet and feel the Holy Ghost testifying that Heavenly Father loves me, knows my sadness?  For me, it is the middle of the night prayers with me begging for understanding and comfort.  Tears run into my ears as I try not to move or wake up my husband.  He wakes up anyway, listens to my thoughts, and gives me hugs.

Next year, what will we do for Thanksgiving?  I know we need to reach out.  I need to overcome my nerdy-rather-read-a-book holiday anti-social celebrating.  Work hard, delegate more, and not be selfish in my grieving/missing.  Open up our home to others struggling to overcome their grief, gather and count blessings.  Cook as much before hand, like a good Martha, and then settle and visit and be still and abide with those who come with heavy hearts, loneliness, sadness and fears.

See me Instagram

I was pondering why it has been so hard to blog even though I still read blogs.  When our oldest daughter blogs we see glimpses into her life that helps with the long-across-the-country distance.  I am grateful for the technology.

Maybe it is just me getting lazier.  The process to get a photo from the camera uploaded to the computer (whah whah)...

No real excuses.

There are some sporadic facebook updates. 

But INSTAGRAM!  At least once a week there is something posted from me.  Easy to search my name, jennilandbeck.

Two Someones Missing from the Family Photo

 This is the most recent family photo offering:  Suzanna will be home in 5 days, Sam will leave in 13, but Max is just not there at all, and I miss him.

Max had the voice of an angel-one singing deep bass.  He was charming, funny, and brilliant.  He could solve a Rubik Cube in seconds, no matter how mixed up it was to start.  He loved computer games, Avatar film, and his family.  He was a member of the Maryland State Boychoir for years and toured the world singing, including China as part of the Olympics 10 years ago.  He starred as Daddy Warbucks on stage, sang in "Evita," in "The Music Man," and one semester in BYU Men's Choir, singing with llamas at Christmas.

He was an addict, struggling to be sober.  Perhaps self medicating or the drugs triggered the bi-polar diagnosis with psychotic breaks when he got high?  His tox report on autopsy says he was sober. 

Rubbernecking is natural.  We all need to look, we can't help ourselves, and the disappointment when you realize it was just a flat tire backing up traffic for miles when all of us are squeezing down the road to the ocean… We have started a habit of the driver looking straight ahead, and someone else narrating the details.  Try it--see how hard it is to concentrate on just driving and not trying to see what is beyond the flashing lights, crushed cars, broken glass…

So I share the details for you so you know, to give you an idea of what it is like, so you can drive straight.  Or offer help, the kind that will prevent another death of a stranger, or a friend.

Suicide clean-up can't be easy.  I am grateful for the 1st responders, the policemen and emergency help.  Our son was pronounced dead at the scene.  A police detective came to tell us, hours later, along with the chief of police-a personal family friend.  Just like in the movies, the doorbell rang when we were sound asleep; they asked if they could come in.  We couldn't see his body because they had already taken him down to Baltimore for investigation & autopsy. 

You've noticed the crosses along the side of roads, loaded with teddy bears or flowers or holiday-themed wreaths.  I understand that now.  The need to memorialize, mark the place that had ended his life.  As a parent you want it to matter to everyone, so they know either to be cautious driving there, look for bike riders or pedestrians, or slow down while you drive.  I wanted to do something! 

Down route 40 behind Advanced Auto the train tracks run behind wire fencing, I stood there gripping the fence looking up and down the tracks to see what Max would have seen.  It was a full moon that night  he died.  A train passed, and it was all I could do to stay standing.  I was thankful it had rained before I was there, or clean-up was thorough.  No evidence left on the tracks.  The violence of that big machine going too fast and too heavy to stop as my son stood up from the track he was sitting on and stepped in front of the engine.  

I don't know everything Max was feeling or thinking in that moment.  From suicide survivors I have heard the regret and wish for a second chance, knowing it was a mistake to try to end it.

John was able to recover Max's phone record (we never found his actual phone) and he had written texts to 5 people earlier that night. John texted them to let them know what happened, and only one texted back, recounting the back and forth that night, as Max became more and more irrational, writing that he felt voices were telling him to go down to the tracks and kill himself.  The friend did the right thing, asking him questions, telling him to get help, but then Max stopped responding.

That's the moment that I wish for a do-over, wishing that someone would have seen him, or asked him what was wrong and stayed with him, talked him down.  I don't blame the friend for not knowing more what to do.  A phone call to us, or 911 maybe could have made a difference.

Your efforts to pay attention to those around you, to notice when something is off, to talk to them, help them cope with whatever burdens they are dealing with--that is my encouragement today.  Be the kind of listener who focuses on what is really happening.  Notice things.  Be a little nosy.  And speak up when the warning signs show up.  Don't let them be alone---suicide is a lonely event. 

You have worth.  You are enough.  As you deal with hard things in your life, don't give up hope.  Life is worth living!  Take more photos!  Make memories and make peace with your loved ones.

Max would give really good hugs.  He was never the one to let go first.  The last words we shared were "I love you" and a kiss and one of those long hugs.

Anniversary Celebration

Summer is almost over.  We did make it to the ocean.

Once.  And maybe going again this Tuesday while Stewart is in town.

EmmaDean & Stewart came to celebrate grandparent's 50th anniversary.

It's a big deal to get John & all his sisters together.

And all the grandkids, minus Suzanna--on a church mission in Portugal!

Sam will leave in a month to serve in Mesa, Arizona LDS mission!

EmmaDean left this morning, back to work in Utah.

Stewart will stay with us another week.

Roxie is gearing up for school as a sophomore.  People ask all the time when she graduated, or what college she is attending.

My beautiful children!

Nice to have time together.

John is always obliging to kiss in public.

The End

Samuel

Happy Birthday Memorialized Eagle

I made a chocolate cake, buttercream frosting (needed more powdered sugar) and coconut, his favorite.  I had enough candles for all his grandchildren, a yellow one for Maxwell, and a red one for Dean.  We wouldn't all be here and connected without this great man.

Leading the music with his left arm, singing along...

Flowers and kudos to his mom, still going strong.  We ate our first crabs of the season, hamburgers, fresh corn on the cob, cantaloupe and sweet strawberries.

Sam finished his Eagle Project, painting fire hydrants yesterday.  Saturday's group did all but 4, and yesterday he and Bill Blakely finished the last ones up.

I was not allowed to help, so I took photos and made scones.

Couldn't find two groups as I circled around the area...The Pauls, Connors, Wainwrights helped, too.

My garage sale horse!

The Rest of the Story

You would never know the full story, just looking at these photos.  Context helps.  Details.  I am determined to ask better questions, give more complements, and to try and school my face. The weird, goofy looks we all make can be funny when the camera catches them.  I was having focusing problems in the dark gym.  The last two photos of Sam are for his mission application.  He chose the bottom one, without glasses.

Beach for a Massage Studio

After photo of a walk down to the ocean (East Coast), a barter job for a massage studio.  The before:

Paint changes everything about a room!  Does the base color make a difference?  Yes, especially if the other 3 walls are that color.  I think it is important to tie everything together and to make sure it looks good with the flooring.  You can's see the carpet in these photos, but know that it meshes well with the blues and grays in this ocean scene.  The sand and sky have a lot of the base color showing through, washes on top layers.