Hugs from Camp Safety presentation today

HOW MANY OF YOU LOVE PICKLES?  Not just like them a little bit, but LOVE them?  I love pickles.  But my husband hates them, never liked them when he was young, still hates them.  We have 6 children:  3 girls and 3 boys.  So how many of them do you think like pickles?  Would it surprise you to hear, 2 don't like them, our oldest daughter and our youngest daughter.

If I told you I had a treat that looks kind of like a pickle, smells like one, but you’ve never tried it, would you do it on a dare?  If I made fun of you for not trying it, would you cave in to the peer pressure and eat it?  A pickled OKRA is still green, crunchy, salty, and the texture is similar, but not everyone who likes pickles likes pickled OKRA.  If you cook it wrong, it is gelatinous, like jelly or jello, slimy, really gross.    Would you try it if I tried it first, and you saw that I liked it?  Would you ask your friends first if they liked it, or ask your parents if it was ok to eat okra?  Would you google it, look up recipes, read about its health benefits, and would you believe it?

THREE THINGS:  1.  No secrets from your parents or family.  Surprises are ok, for birthdays and holidays and gifts, but not secrets.

2.  Decide today that you will say no to drugs & alcohol.  I was reading an article yesterday that talked about scientific studies showing it is easier to never do something than to try and do it in moderation, just smoke a little, just drink a little.  Some things are hard to stop, and they are addicting in dangerous ways.

3.  Be brave and confident making good choices.  Even if everyone around you is making a bad choice, those good choices will protect you, keep you safe, keep your brain cells, and you will be happier.

One of my pickle sons, is named Maxwell.

He was very smart, funny, but one of his bad habits was taking dares.  If someone dared him to drink hot sauce, he would try it, even if it hurt his tongue.  He liked getting attention from dares.

One day in high school, a friend dared him to smoke some marijuana, or pot.  The friend gave him a zip lock baggy full of green leaves for free, and promised it would make Maxwell feel like a little kid again; it would make him relax and happy and forget all the hard things about being a teenager.

One day while Max was in school, I felt like I should clean his room, maybe empty the garbage, and I found evidence.  I started looking in his desk, found a baggy of marijuana hidden under some papers, and some other things he was using to smoke it.  When he got home from school and went into his room, he could tell that someone had been in there.  I had to drive him to singing practice, and we had a long, calm talk.  I gave him the benefit of the doubt, asked him if he was keeping the drugs for someone.  I am thankful he was honest with me, said the drugs were his. 

We had a long talk, and I stayed calm the whole time, asking him questions, wanting to understand what his plan was, why he tried it.  He told me about how he felt.  And he promised he would stop.

But drugs trick you.  They are hard to stop.  Friends who like drugs will lie to you, especially if they are selling it.  Drugs are a way for some people to make money, and they don't care how much drugs hurt you, they just want to make more money. 

Max didn't have a job, but he had video games, shoes, some nice things that he traded for drugs.  How else do you think he got $ for drugs?

He stole it.  He would take grocery $ from our room and spend it on drugs.  I couldn't figure out how the $ was disappearing so quickly, thought maybe I was spending too much without realizing what was really happening.

Maxwell also shoplifted to get drugs, over-the-counter medicine, if you take it wrong, is really dangerous and can kill you.

This went on for 3 years, and it got worse, and scarier.  He would try to stop, and we helped him get into programs that tried to help him stop.  He picked up some bad habits while living with people who were also trying to stop using drugs.

One thing that doesn't help people who are using, is to make them feel bad, or shame them.  Never works to shame them.  We tried to be supportive, tell him we loved him, involve him the best we could in our lives, but he kept making some bad choices.

He died 3 years and 7 days ago.  I miss him.  1,102 days.

Your family would miss you, if you started making choices that make you unsafe.  Keep talking to your parents and family, tell them if you have friends making scary choices, and decide that you will be healthy, safe, and obey the law--which includes no drinking any alcohol before you are 21 years old.   Be brave, when people make fun of you for your good choices.  Know that you are not the only one.  Say "NO!" to anyone trying to talk you into a bad choice, or DARE you to try something you shouldn't.

Okra really is safe.  Pickles are good.  But drugs are not.  Please be careful of your bodies, protect them.  You have so much to discover and learn and experience!

I hope you smile next time your family wants to take a photograph together.  Photos & memories are the only things I have left of my son. 

Family Communication Styles

Roxie had a project due in history, and she couldn't take her bow to school so I took 100 photos of her so she could make a powerpoint presentation.

I yarn bombed back yard tree for Memorial Day.  I had some red t-shirt sleeves from an old Max boychoir shirt...

We went to the temple

Memorial Day smores and baby holding!  Baby Lincoln and Baby Olive are our friends.  Aunt Candy was visiting Gma Sandy.  The party was at Wainwrights, and that is host on pole, since he was out on ship working and his wife had the party anyway.

I am thankful for family blogs, the honesty, the realness, the photos, the love.  We don't visit as often as I wish we did!  Since we live so far spread apart blogging is a good way to get a glimpse of what is going on.  My phone skills are limited to talking to John every day from his work at lunch time...

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.

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.

Found this while Pinning...

A Lovely Flock blog: My 1st Best Friend

My comment:

Thank you for honest, real writing.  I am the mother of a son who struggled with addiction (instead of calling him an addict).  We lost him 18 months ago after years of rehab, treatment, program after program, changing the locks, relapse after relapse, endless prayers, counseling & never giving up on him.  Reading the sweet early childhood memories you have of your brother was uplifting & a good reminder of what our Maxwell had with his siblings before the drugs.  I agree about NOT enabling, but loving and forgiving.  Good LDS link quotes, too!

From the Local Paper

We keep telling the same story.  A little different every time.  This last one, at the middle school where 3 of our children attended, we spoke last Tuesday night.

http://www.baltimoresun.com/news/maryland/harford/abingdon/ph-ag-aberdeen-heroin-forum-1016-20151014-story.html

I made sure all of the students attending left with a Defiance t-shirt.  Gave out the rest of our supply to parents on the way out the door.  And the sheriff's office ordered 16 shirts for their entire task force.  They loved the idea, the image, the word, Defiance, and the meaning we are attaching to it.

And that is the reason I am bleaching more today!  Trying to restock, have enough for next week in the northern part of the county where some of our children attended school before we moved here.

Same message:  be sober.  I always pray like crazy to know what to emphasize, what to say, what to leave out. 

Suicide Prevention Talk

 Wow---back from suicide prevention week on Aberdeen Proving Ground military post.  The first speaker, Tammy Woodard who works at the official suicide office, spoke about the worth of people.  She had a $20.00 brand new bill.  Asked who wanted it?  Then wrinkled, folded, stepped on it, smashed it up, now who wants it?  Still worth $20.00.  Good visual example.  She had a great power point with risks, danger signs to look for, resources (I want to take a photo of that slide on Friday, when she repeats her talk, and we do our 2nd one).  She threw the bill out into the audience, and Amy Landbeck Snyder caught it with her left hand!

John spoke first, then we showed Emma slideshow with Maryland State Boychoir singing, then me.  These are my notes, mostly followed, or paused and came back and read things.  I didn't know how emotional it would be, so I needed complete sentences to read, just in case...

1.  There are a lot of good memories in those photos.  

Thank you for listening so respectfully to my husband. 

I appreciate what Tammy said, grateful to be here today.  Max's youngest sister and brother are here, Roxie Jane & Sam, and his grandparents, John & Sandy Landbeck and one of his aunts, Amy Snyder.  Thank you for being here today, all of you.

2.  Bodies are precious gifts.  After Max was hit by the train they sent his body to Baltimore for autopsy and investigation.  When the funeral home picked him up, washed his hair & beard, let us come see him and say goodbye.  The funeral home pulled out one of his arms so we could hold his hand, hand a towel over the right side of his face and warned us to leave it in place and not move it.  I stroked his cheek, kissed my son, ran my fingers through his hair that was never that soft and full bodied in life. When your baby is born, you count all his toes, and fingers, make sure he is all there.  I touched his feet through the body bag, made sure he was all there by feel.

I gave him life.   We helped create that body, and it hurt me when he abused it, smoking pot, getting high, he picked up cigarette smoking in rehab, tripping out is scary---not just the crazy things he would say and talk about seeing.  

His self-medicating took him away from me.  Drugs hurt you.  They hurt my son.  

Suicide affects the whole family--siblings, cousins, we all miss him.  And we need to keep talking about him. 

Our youngest daughter, Roxie, was able to go to a grief camp with other children who lost a loved one recently.  They had a volcano room, where they could rip apart magazines, pound pool noodles against the wall, scream if they needed to, just to release the angry feelings that come.  Parents talk, but we need to remember the children that are affected by the suicide or death, too.

I have become a SOBRIETY ACTIVIST to try and help other parents know what to do when their children choose to use drugs.

3.  People ask all the time if DEFIANCE really is his middle name--and yes, it is.  Our firstborn son inherited the John Stewart Landbeck IV name of his great grandfather. 

Defiance=openly resist or refuse to obey

-not a sy-fy game, custom bolt rifle company

-The show takes place in the future on a radically transformed Earth containing new species, some having arrived from space,

The story begins in the year 2046. re-built ruins of St. Louis.  ALIENS = VOTANS

-Fort Defiance is a restaurant in Red Hook, Brooklyn,

 -Defiance College, OHIO yellowjacket mascot, -and a town in Missouri, beer company in Hays, Kansas,

We needed a good, strong name for son #2.  Nothing whimpy.  He needed a strong name, with meaning!  We gave him Defiance as a middle name with the prayer that he would defy the bad stuff in the world and that he would stand up for what is real and true.  We wanted him to fight for goodness. 

I don't know everything our son was feeling;  I have read through his journals and papers he kept carefully in a traveling file folder as he went from rehab and place to place.  Some of his struggles included worries about money & jobs, his love life and lack of confidence worrying that he was ugly, questions about God and where he fit into the world.  A lot of things we all have to deal with.

4.  Everyone feels self-doubts and insecurities, or trying to wade through grief or trauma, sadness, disappointments, depression to some degree.  That is normal part of life. 

I absolutely know that if I had talked more, during tough times, I would have been better off emotionally--in high school, struggling with postpartum depression…

FIND someone who will listen to you, and TALK and be a better listener!  A conversation can change your life!  Reach outside of your security zone, help someone, and be better at asking for help. 

5.  T-shirts are kind of a thing in our family.  When Max died he had no $ in bank, he had lost a lot of his possessions, but he still had some really cool t-shirts.  His 5 siblings divided them up, and I made a quilt for each of them, so they could all have a Max hug anytime they needed one.  They still smell like him.  (show quilt)  They opened them up at Christmas, and we had a lot of moments of silence, all wrote letters, what we would say to him and want him to know. 

This is a Defiance t-shirt, homemade!  We make these t-shirts with a stencil in our kitchen, using bleach, and then quickly rinse in vinegar to stop the bleaching process. 

You can show DEFIANCE of the complacency and acceptance of drugs, defy the people who can't remember how many inhibitions they let go of while under the influence.  Rebel against drowning your sorrows, be bold in being sober, challenge the drug humor, revolt against smoking pot.  Confront society's fear of talking about suicide.  THIS is what this t-shirt means to me. 

We have one for each of you today.  Thank you.

Free T-shirts with a Promise & Committment to be Safe & Sober

Best news ever:  One of my daily seminary early morning Bible School students reported seeing someone wearing a Defiance t-shirt at his school, two days after our presentation there!  I asked my student if he talked to him, said anything, or if he would recognize the student again to talk to him about sobriety, and explain he has a matching shirt....?

As part of my grocery budget $ I buy 100% cotton dark t-shirts to bleach through my stencil.  Thanks to my sister Laurajane for cool idea!  Below is a t-shirt gift she made.

Laurajane used nametag sticky rectangles to cut out letters and bleached around.

After spraying bleach--which will continue to bleach and eat away at the fibers, immediately put shirt in sink or bowl with water and a cup of vinegar or lemon juice to stop the bleach chemical reaction.  It will make the t-shirt last longer.  Then wash normally to take away vinegar smell.

When we give the Don't Do Drugs presentation at schools, we have been giving away Defiance t-shirts, either giving them to PTA organizers for door prizes, or my favorite--throwing them out into audience after we speak.

The best source of the t-shirts:  thrift stores.  Goodwill has 1/2 off sales last Saturday of the month, so 6 shirts for $5.00.  My favorite thrift store in Edgewood has 1/2 off certain color tags every day, and I look for solid dark shirts there.  A nice cashier asked what I was doing, so I explained my spiel about Drugs & Defying them, and by the 2nd shopping trip he asked for a finished one and said he would wear it once a week at work to help get the message out, explaining every time someone comments on his shirt what it is all about.  Encouraging sobriety.

Home Decorating note:  Brilliant daughter Roxie positioned this IKEA rug in our hallway lined up with North!  She did get in to the Science & Math Academy, so her dreams of rocket ship building are that much closer. 

Sobriety Talk @ Fashion Show Friday Edgewood High School

Everything has a price…sometimes the price is too high--you can't afford it.

As you are looking at the dresses tonight, adding up limo rental or gas for your beater car, flowers, the dance tickets, dinner---I want you to think of your future beyond high school.  It is going to be over soon, less than 4 years, but some of the mistakes you make during these years will affect you the rest of your life-or end your life too soon.

If I were a wealthy philanthropist with $ to burn, I would pay teenagers to be sober.  Every 2 weeks you pass a clean pee test, my dream sobriety program would put $ in an account for you so that by the time you graduate you have enough for a brand new car--that freedom that you crave, and need to grow up, be independent…

My son Max was amazing-he didn't do homework, but he took tests well, horrible grades, but made it to graduation and into a good university, but after his freshman year, he blew it all away.

We all have secrets.  Maybe he started earlier, but when Max was a senior in high school I was cleaning his bedroom, throwing out the garbage when I smelled that sick-sweet smell of pot in his garbage can.  I poked around, found a homemade bong, found a bag stash of marijuana in his desk drawer.  To give him the benefit of the doubt, I asked him, calmly, if he was holding it for a friend.

He had been taking long showers with the fan on, trying to disguise what he was doing.  What should be the consequences when you are caught?  Jail time/community service?  You know it is against the law.  Smoking and drinking for minors is protecting you, but the laws against using drugs, it's not just about being old enough to do them.  Do you ever wonder why?  What is the big deal?

I have watched the life of a smart, funny, talented young man with a future waste away to a hunched, sad, husk of himself from drug use.  He caved into peer pressure and said yes to pot, and then it was easier to say yes to alcohol.  He picked up cigarette smoking from an AA meeting.  And all the hopes and dreams for his future were blown away.  Instead of trying to figure out what to major in, he was trying to get a job and keep a job; we didn't trust him to drive our car, changed the locks on the house because he was stealing grocery money for drugs.  We kicked him out of our home because he had younger siblings and was using in front of them.  He got kicked out of aunt & uncles home, grandparents after he blew chances over and over to stop.

I know your life isn't perfect, everyone has something they are dealing with, and it is hard, but please, look for help.  Stay sober, and don't use drugs and alcohol to escape dealing with reality. 

Drugs wasted my son's life.  I miss him.  You would be missed, because you are loved and valued.  Whatever mistakes you have made, however much trouble you think you are in, please ask for help.  I promise you it can get better.  I care about your safety, your happiness and success, and invite you to choose right now to say NO when someone asks you to party with them.  Do it for Max, do it for your future.  Be sober.

People ask all the time if DEFIANCE really is his middle name--and yes, it is.  We gave him that name with the prayer that he would defy the bad stuff in the world and that he would stand up for what is real and true.  If you remember nothing else from what we say tonight, know that you can show DEFIANCE of the complacency and acceptance of drugs.  Drugs hurt you.  They hurt my son.  Again, I invite you to be sober.

Be Glad...while Sober!

We skyped with Emma in California after the kids opened up their Max quilts, wrote letters to him (what we would say to him today) and took pictures in front of the yarn bomb trees.  There are 4 (!) in front yard now.  The tree with lights is the black & white yarn bombed one.

They are all very different-Roxie's has a bunch of "Roxy" brand t-shirts I have saved over the years for her, Sam's includes some of his school shirts, Stewart a GEMS program shirt they were both in, Suzu's foot and hand print hot pink shirt, so they know which one is theirs.

I yarn bombed the red bud tree this morning, after doing a neighbor's tree after she said her little boys had been talking about our yarn and wouldn't mind being yarn-bombed for sobriety....her tree was so big and wide around the trunk that I couldn't reach around it, had to run around wrapping the t-shirts and got dizzy!

We opened birthday presents today, too, (Mom, thanks for the shiny sparkly purple hat!) and my mom's good advice to "Be Glad" is a theme for me, a reminder.  I am glad for these amazing children, their laughter, and support and hugs and tears.  They are stronger, more sensitive to suffering and distress of others having gone through this hard summer of losing a sibling. 

Emma is waiting for their Santas to wake up before she opens her quilt, and I hope she posts a photo, because I forgot to take one of completed quilt before I sent it off to her.

QUILT construction detail:

(these-above and just below-are from Emma's quilt in the making, auditioning position of squares) Smooth out t-shirt on cutting mat, use 12 1/2 clear cutting acrylic cutting square to cut front AND back of t-shirt.  Sandwich a same size flannel square inside; sew X from corner to corner; determine order of blocks and sew generous 1/2 inch seams to FRONT of quilt; clip with scissors to create fringe.  Remember to sew around perimeter to secure/stabilize outside edge of quilt.  They were heavy with just the flannel "batting."

Back of Roxie's quilt, smooth edges on this side, fringe on front which looks better after each washing.

I didn't wash these yet, they still smell like Max a  little.  It was very emotional to make them, surrounded by the memories of him wearing the shirts, thinking of him, missing him, but glad for the project to give the other children a memory to hug.

Yarn Bombing for Sobriety

Yarn bombing.  Harmless, decorative.  Knitters have decorated bridges, statues...You can google it, a real thing.  My sister told me about the yarn bombing in Pittsburgh on the bridges. 

For me, this is a way to use up the 3 foot high pile of t-shirt scraps leftover after making t-shirt quilts for Christmas.  The shirts came from our son, Maxwell, who passed away this summer.  I couldn't just throw them away.  This has been cathartic, helping me deal with the grief of missing him during the holidays.  I don't want any teenagers to go through what he did.  It started with pot, escalated.  Smoking spice hurt him. 

Being sober needs to be a choice.  A decision.  A want these yarn bombing trees to spread all over the city, and maybe it will help somebody else know that being sober matters.  Drugs hurt you.  Be safe.

 "Yarn Bomb a Tree in Support of Sobriety this Holiday Season!"
First tree, with brightest of Max's t-shirts.

More of his t-shirts:  black, white, & gray version, with Christmas white lights.

I took fliers over to the middle school craft fair and talked it up. 

And two families from the fair stopped to help.

The added blue yarn is scrap yarn.  They took pictures of their teenagers committing to be sober over the holidays.  I gave them each a big ball of Max t-shirt yarn to go home and bomb their trees.

Got permission from neighbor across the street to bomb her tree!

A view of both the trees in our yard.

Quick tutorial for cutting t-shirts into "yarn" here:

It is easy to cut off the bottom hem, and use the main body of t-shirt, but you can cut spirals from the sleeves, every part of the t-shirt.  Cut about 1.5 inch strips.

Tie a square knot to attach one strip to another.  Roll into a ball inside to make easier to pass around the trunk and branches outside in the cold!

Trains & Temples

I took the train Friday down to BWI close to John-husband's work.  Worse moment was when another MARC train came the opposite way and startled me, made me jump, heart racing.  I had ridden the train & subway in Manhattan 2 weeks ago, and it was ok, as long as I didn't think about it, dwell on sad things.  Trains are modern tools, and if Max had died in a car accident I would still drive a car, carefully.  I have an aunt who died in a small airplane crash, but our family still flies.  John had an uncle die in a motorcycle crash, and those are kind of a family off-limit thing now.  The intersection is 7 houses down from our home, and I always pause a couple of seconds longer, thinking about his uncle Mike, take a minute to be safe and look for motorcycles before turning left...So maybe it is okay to think of Max with every train ride and pray for the engineers to be safe and pedestrians careful...

John was waiting on the sidewalk for me.  He towers above most of the commuters, so I could see him from a long distance off, very romantic and sweet of him.  He escorted me to the car, opened my door like always.  I don't want to take that gentlemanlyness for granted.  I count it as a blessing!

There was a huge accident on the beltway that we avoided taking 200, got to the temple in record time.   I feel such comfort and peace there and joy for the Atonement of Jesus Christ and the promised resurrection.  We talked about Maxwell and cried some together for almost an hour after our service.  My testimony of Joseph Smith (watch the film on the link to see my favorite actor portraying him) as a true modern prophet was strengthened tremendously this trip down.  I thought of him and the restored priesthood keys and ordinances revealed through him and felt a kinship/friendship that was new to me--like a reunion/remembering as I recognized his voice.

My eyes are squinty from the sun and allergies, but I am happy.  John is concentrating on pushing the right button.

This is a Good Place

Thanks to a friend at John's work, we stayed in a sweet little condo in Dewey.  Deserted off-season beach, beautiful full moon over the calm water, sunrise from a warm upstairs room looking out at the ocean.  Very relaxing and nice to get a weekend date, just us.  Cream of crab soup, crabs, lots of cheese.  Crayon drawing on the table waiting for crabs.  And 3 different thrift store shopping for sister missionary clothes for Suzanna!  (Wearing my altered tiger-t-shirt cut in half and sewn onto a sweat shirt front=easy project.)

Another place to add to the Max's ashes memorial.  Good place to remember him, honor him, tell him how we are feeling, how much we miss him.

Steampunked Kilts: Trunk or Treat

 

Sam & Roxie's kilts are 8 yards and 5 yards, fully pleated in back.  John and mine are quickly done, costume only, not even the right tartan, but close.  Roxie's is not quite Davidson clan, but she loves green and blue and it was in my fabric stash, conveniently.

I decorated our car trunk with silk flowers hung #56 tags, and the red satiny quilt (from Luanna) and the 56 days left sign:  Christmas countdown.  We won one of the trunk decorating prizes!  Scariest?

People, friends, have asked me this week how I am doing, really doing, and they made time to listen.  I have gotten teary-eyed and mushy and choked up and realized how much I am still grieving for Maxwell's loss.  I miss him, and still feel really sad.  It makes sense to me now the year of mourning in Victorian times, family wearing black, or at least black armbands in remembrance of their lost one.

   It has been easy to escape reading books and not having to "think" or "feel" or to stay busy, really busy, or get involved in serving someone else so I don't think about being sad.

One listening friend said, "I don't know how you are doing it, even waking up and getting out of bed."  

Holidays are sad, since we use them as gathering, food celebrating, and remembering.  Max was a blue-body suit man last year.  He asked me to mend his suit where it had ripped a little at the neck.  I fixed it but didn't get it back to him, he said he didn't need it until Halloween.  Every time I see Suzu in her matching suit, I think it would have been a fun picture/video of them together.  Regret un-photos=times you wish you had photographed, but too late.

 

Dealing with stress and grief--besides drinking more water, getting outside once a day, not eating sugar, reading scriptures on my own, doing something unexpected and nice for someone else at least once a week, and everyday being nice to myself (hot shower) and giving myself a complement--saying something out loud while looking in the mirror.  Something about me that I like and is real and true (not just something I do well, but an attribute describing who I am, inside.  Kind of like the pep-talk in "The Help" that the maid gives her boss's daughter "You is kind, you is smart, you is important").

 

And yes, our garage now has burnt orange diamonds, for Halloween.

Because I am a visionary woman.  I like to see changing colors in my environment.  The autumn trees are gorgeous and inspiring and I like to savor colors like flavors for my eyes.  (Haha, now I am laughing at myself.)

More Photos (because Deb asked!)

I am standing here with 4 moms who also lost children, plus sheriff office guys and organizer.

Roxie is third person in from right side.