Was Our House Ever Going to Sell?

“Hi, Gale,” mom greeted me over the phone. “We're coming down today to meet with the people who put an offer on the house.”

I was excited to see my parents, but not thrilled with the possibility that they might sell the house. These people had made an offer $300,000 under what the house was worth, and I hated to see dad sell too quickly. Butt dad was tired of waiting, and ready to sell, no matter what. I didn't really blame him. The house had been on the market for a year and a half. Still, it just didn't feel right.

“Something else,” mom hesitated before she continued. “Um, I talked to Sharon this morning, and Colton's boss has told him he can move to Snowflake and work from there, so they are coming up here. They want to be here before school starts.”

That was a surprise, but not really a shock. I had wondered how my youngest sister was going to take being left down in Gilbert while the rest of us moved to Snowflake.

“Sharon went looking for apartments this morning with Linda,” mom continued, “and they found a three bedroom one that is under $500 a month! That's a great deal, but they can't qualify for it because they make too much money. They thought, though, that if the house sells and you and Moe have to move, you would like it. I guess Sharon and Colton are going to move in with us until they build themselves a house up here.”

Now, that was a shock! Ever since dad put the house on the market I'd known we could live with mom and dad in Snowflake if we needed to, until we built a house on our land up there. It had been my backup plan, and given me sense of security, despite the uncertainty we were living in.

Mom and dad came in a few hours later. Dad was anxious, and spent the day walking around the house, picking up little pieces of whatever, and cleaning everything, although it was already perfect because I had cleaned that morning. But living makes little messes, I guess, and dad wanted everything to be perfect.

“Why don't we paint your kitchen,” he'd suggested when he first walked in. “It's getting really old looking.

“Dad, we can't paint it now, when people are coming this afternoon. It will make everything smell. Anyway, they're not coming to look at the house anymore. They've already seen it. They just want to try to talk you into their new offer.”

My reasoning didn't help much, dad was too keyed up. Mom, on the other hand, sat on the couch in her kitchen and read the new Harry Potter book. I couldn't decide what I was supposed to be doing. Just act normal, I guess, but it was driving me crazy!

In the end , the offer the people made was not acceptable, thank goodness. I did end up painting the kitchen again, though, and the girls bedrooms, and I kept the house really clean all the time. Still, I felt like I was sitting on pins and needles, waiting to see what was going to happen.

I registered the girls for school the first of August, like normal, and wondered where they would be by the end of the year. My brother-in-law's boss decided to have someone else cover the area including Snowflake, so they registered their kids in Gilbert, too. Then, on the first day of school, the boss called and told them they could move to Snowflake, after all. They went and took their kids our of school, packed their beds, and drove up to Snowflake so their kids could start school there the next day.

I didn't know what to think. Especially when a real estate lady called me that afternoon and asked if she could bring some people over to look at the house. It turned out to be the grandson of one of my Grandpa Russell's good friends. They were very interested in the house, dad was really excited, and I wondered what on earth was going to happen, now that my sister's family was living in mom and dad's house. Where would we go?

A few days later I broke down. I'd been outside working all morning. It had taken hours to cut back the blackberry bushes and rake up the branches. They were so thorny, and it was so hot, that I thought I would die. It was really hot, being the middle of August, and we'd been having record heat for the last few days. By the time I was through mowing between the bushes I was beat, and I still had to mow around the fruit trees and the front yard, and then water everything.

I loved living on two acres, but it took a lot of work to keep everything nice. It was noon before I finished, and I was really in a state. I guess it was mostly the heat, but I was so cross and angry and upset I was actually crying by the time I got in the house. This had been a hard summer, what with not knowing when the house would sell and what we would do if it did. I had been dealing with it, but I guess the stress had been building inside of me until I finally broke. I cried and cried as I showered, and shouted and stamped my feet and had a really good hissy fit since there was no one around to hear me.

I finally ran out of steam, and then was so tired I laid down on the bed and actually went to sleep for a couple of hours. It was wonderful. When I woke up I felt so much better. Maybe crying is actually good for us. It sure was for me that day.

The Good-bye Present

“What have you got?” my friend asked when she opened her front door.

I grinned and handed her a pan of iced cinnamon rolls. “I thought your family might like something to snack on while they worked.”

Karen was moving that week, so I had baked cinnamon rolls, bringing Kami along with me to deliver them.

“Oh, Gale,” Karen exclaimed, “they look delicious!”

“Yes they do,” Joseph, her twelve year-old son agreed as he joined his mother at the door.“Hey, Kami,” he added, grinning at my daughter. They were the same age, and had been friends for the past five years. “Can we have one, mom?”

“Sure,” his mother laughed, as Joseph grabbed the pan out of his mother's hand.

“What can I do to help you pack?” I asked Karen as I surveyed the the living room stacked high with un-assembled boxes.

“There really isn't anything, yet,” Karen claimed. “The movers are coming tomorrow, and they will pack everything for us. All I'll have to do is supervise, then clean when they are done.”

“Can I help you clean?” I asked.

“Well, if you really want to, but you've done enough just bringing the rolls.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Joseph said as he and Kami walked back into the living room, carrying cinnamon rolls on paper plates. He grinned at me, then stuffed a huge corner of roll into his mouth.

His grin faded as his eyes grew wide and a look of surprised distaste appeared on his face. “Yuck!” he said as he spit a mouthful of roll out on the plate. “What's in these?”

Karen looked at her son with a horrified look on her face, embarrassed at his rudeness, but Kami was spitting on her plate, too.

“Mom! What did you do to these rolls?”

“I don't know,” I said in confusion, looking between the two kids. “What's the matter with them?”

“Salt,” Kami and Joseph said in unison, wiping their mouths with their hands. “They're awful mom,” Kami added.

Karen and I looked at each other, then I reached out and took a tiny bit of Kami's roll and put it in my mouth.

“Uhggg!” It really was disgusting.

“I'm so sorry,” I apologized. “I don't know what happened, but these are disgusting.”

“I bet I know,” Kami told me with a wicked grin on her face. “Krissi's been trying to do practical jokes all week. I bet she added salt to the dough.”

“She wouldn't do that,” I defended my youngest daughter. But honestly, I couldn't think of any explanation for how salt got into my rolls.

In the end, Joseph and Kami discovered they could eat the top part of the rolls, the frosting was fine, but they threw the rest of them away.

I went home and tried to figure out what happened to my rolls.

“Krisann,” I called my ten year-old daughter to come into the kitchen. “Do you know how salt got into the cinnamon rolls?”

“Well, maybe it was in the sugar,” she told me sheepishly. I opened the sugar canister and stuck my finer in to taste it. Sure enough, Salt!

“What did you do?” I demanded.

Krissi looked at me cautiously, trying to see just how mad I was, I guess. To tell you the truth, I was actually beginning to chuckle over the whole thing. It really was kind of funny. I guess Krissi could tell I wasn't too upset, because she finally admitted emptying a whole container of salt into my sugar. That darned girl!

In the end, I emptied out the sugar/salt mixture, filled the canister with just sugar, and made a new batch of cinnamon rolls. The next day I took Karen the good rolls, and spent the afternoon helping her clean her newly emptied house. We said goodbye to our friends that evening, knowing we would probably never be neighbors again.

“But when Karl retires,” I told Karen after my final hug, “you really should think about coming back to Arizona and moving up to Snowflake with us. I promise, I won't bring you salty cinnamon rolls as a moving in present.”

Cheerfully do all things that lie in my power

Once we had found where we wanted to live, all we had to do was find someone to sell it to us. As soon as we got home Moe got on line and looked up the county records, which listed the owners of each parcel. He started at the top of the list and began calling people. When he got someone to answer he said, “I see you own property west of Snowflake up by Freeman Hollow Road. Would you by any chance be interested in selling?”

I thought he was kind of crazy, until the third man he talked to.

“I told myself if anyone ever offered to buy my land, I'd sell it to them for $50,000,” this fellow told Moe. “My mother gave me the property years ago, but the high altitude is bad for my health, so I can't get up there.”

“We want to buy it,” Moe told him immediately. $50,000 was amazing! We had called the number on the for sale sign we saw at the bottom of Malapai Road. The wife had told us she thought her husband wanted $90,000 for their five acres, but later when we talked to him he said he wanted $150,000, and that was at the bottom of the hill, without a view. It was hard to be sure, but looking at the parcel map Moe had downloaded, it appeared that the five acres we had found by calling was on top of the hill. Now, all we needed was money.

I had lived in our double home in Gilbert with mom and dad for seventeen years, paying rent to cover their taxes and utilities. “I'm going to give you $100,000 when the house sells,” dad had assured us when he put  it on the market. “You'll need a down payment, and you deserve something for all the work you've done   over these many years.” I was floored, and grateful to my generous father. The question now was, when would that be?

“Don't worry, you can live with us when the house sells,” dad had assured me when I worried where we would live until we found someplace else, “at least while you build your own home.” Interestingly enough, the same week we found the land, interest began picking up for the Gilbert house. Maybe we could move up to Snowflake that summer, after all, and the girls could start school up there.

We drove to Snowflake that weekend to see the land we'd found. I couldn't have been more pleased. It was on top of the hill with a beautiful view of the White Mountains in the far south eastern distance and a lovely view of the Snowflake Temple below us to the north east. It was perfect!  When we got home Moe called the owner to see if he would take $5,000 down, then hold it until we could pay the rest.

“No problem,” he told Moe pleasantly. “I'd be happy to hold it as long as you want. I'm in no hurry, so whenever your house sells will be fine.” And just like that, we had a place to build in Snowflake!

Then things began to go crazy. People made proposals on the Gilbert house, other people said they were interested, and dad went back and forth between Gilbert and Snowflake while I tried to keep the house clean all the time so potential buyers could walk through. Life became a roller-coaster ride, up one day, down the next. I tried not to complain, but jeesh!

Thank goodness the last Harry Potter book, “The Deathly Hallows” was published that summer. I'm a huge Harry Potter fan, and having something to take my mind off worrying was a real blessing.

Then, one Sunday near the end of July, a dear friend of mine spoke in church. She and her family had lived at on our street for five years, and were now being transferred to Ohio. Karen based her talk on a scripture in the Doctrine and Covenants, section 123, verse 17.

“Therefore, dearly beloved brethren, let us cheerfully do all things that lie in our power, and then may we stand still, with the utmost assurance, to see the salvation of God, and for his arm to be revealed.”

It felt like an electric shock went through me when she read that scripture. It was like I could hear the Lord talking to me, telling me that he loved me, and assuring me that everything was going to be OK. I just needed to cheerfully do what I could, then let Him take care of the rest of it. What peace that brought me, and how happy I was, at least for a few days.

Finding Home

“I really don't want to live out in the middle of nowhere,” I tried explaining to Moe. “The places we've seen are interesting, but I just don't think any of them would be right for us.”

Moe was not happy to hear me say this. He had been searching Real Estate listings around Snowflake for weeks, making a list of the most promising places for us to look at when we went to our family reunion. I was excited when we first started looking, but after a morning of driving down dusty, dirt roads, exploring desolate parcels of land, and seeing ugly, windblown landscapes, I was getting real discouraged.

“We need to be close enough to town for the girls to go to school,” I tried, knowing Kami and Krissi were Moe's week spot, and hoping I could discourage him from looking so far out in the boonies.

“I don't want traffic keeping me awake all night,” Moe grumbled in response. “I want someplace peaceful, where we can spread out and be alone.”

“Well, let's keep looking,” I sighed, knowing none of the pretty homes in town were going to fit Moe's idea of 'country living.'

We tried a few more places on Moe's list, all of them too far from civilization, too dry, and too run down for my liking, before driving back through town for a bathroom break and something to eat.

“You know what, Moe,” I said after we were back in the car. “We forgot to have family prayer this morning before we started. Maybe we should have a prayer now, and ask Heavenly Father to help us look.”

Moe agreed, so I said a short prayer, sitting in the Maverik parking lot, asking Heavenly Father to help us find a good place to live.

“When I took mom to the beauty parlor yesterday, I talked to some of the women  about nice places to build,” I began as we pulled out onto Main Street. “They suggested looking west of town, along a road called Freeman Hollow. Could we drive out that way?”

Moe shrugged and turned left onto the highway at the end of town. He hadn't found any listings that appealed to him on that side of town, but he agreed to look, just the same. We drove for about ten minutes, at last finding the road called Freeman Hollow.

“Well, lets try it,” Moe said as he turned south. We were higher here, and the countryside was greener, with cedar trees and grass covered rolling hills. We drove over a small hill and found ourselves driving between barbed-wire enclosed pastures covered with tall grass.

“It looks like the road to Young,” I whispered, my heart rising into my throat and tears filling my eyes. “It's beautiful.”

Granted, it was still dusty and dry, but so was the country around the cabin where I had grown up. True, there was no creek sparkling under tall sycamore trees, but I could plant trees and maybe even dig a pond, as long as we had a well. Anyway, none of that mattered. I loved this place. It felt like home.

“If only some of this land is for sale,” I hoped as we drove over another hill and found a side road branching off to the east.

“Malapaii,” I read on the sign as Moe turned right, and then I saw the small wooden board wired to the fence on our right. “Look, Moe! A for sale sign!”

We stopped the car and got out to walk around the piece of land. It was lovely, with grass as high as our knees and covered with cedar trees.

I wrote the phone number listed on the sign on a napkin I had in my purse, then we got back into the car and continued exploring the country. Malapai Road climbed west up a long hill, past more grass covered country, sometimes fenced, often not. It was a good dirt road, until it reached the top of the hill. There it turned into nothing more than two tire tracks through tall grass. We got out again, at the top of the hill, and looked behind us to the east and the south. What a view! We could see the White Mountains far away on the southern horizon, blue and amethyst and sage. East of us the Snowflake Temple stood on a hill, far away, but still recognizable.

“This is so perfect!” I breathed, gazing happily at the panoramic view around me. I loved the feeling of space, of being able to see for hundreds of miles. Distance always made my heart sore, as if it had wings and I could fly.

“Oh, Moe! If only some of the land up here on this hill were for sale.”

“Maybe it is,” he told me, also enchanted with the view. “When we get home I'll get on line and see if I can find out who owns this, and if anyone wants to sell.”

“I hope so!” I said enthusiastically. “Because this just feels right. It feels like home.”

Our Family Reunion

I really didn't mean to be grumpy, but I was. It was the 4^th of July, Dad's birthday, and all my brothers and sisters and me and my family were in Snowflake, seeing mom and dad's new house and having a family reunion.

I tried to be happy for mom as we toured her new house, but I wasn't. In fact, I was green with envy. Whereas the double house dad had built for us down in Gilbert had been very simple, this new house was almost extravagant, at least by my standards. Dad had built the old house himself, cutting corners and using the cheapest materials he could. The new house in Snowflake had been built for them, and their builder had not skimped on anything. The bathroom fixtures, lights, kitchen counters and appliances were all upgrades. The rooms were huge! The front room had a cathedral ceilings and a full fireplace with a two-story rock chimney. Mom and dad's bedroom was enormous, and had it's own corner fireplace, and their bathroom was bigger than my whole bedroom at home.

I had to swallow my pride, and my envy, so I could tell mom how lovely her knew house was and assure her I thought it was wonderful. I really did want her to be happy, she looked so tired and worn out, and I knew she hadn't really wanted to leave her old home, so I tried to sound enthusiastic as she showed me around, but inside I was grumpy.

I felt the same way about the family reunion. No one had asked me for my input, they had planned it without me, and I was put out. Truthfully, I knew I was being spoiled and I should grow up, but I was used to being the oldest sister and telling everyone else what to do, so I was just plain in a bad mood.

The first day of the reunion we played “fear factor”, where each family competed against the others by doing stupid tasks, like seeing who could eat sour candy fastest, or five pieces of hard licorice first, or put together a puzzle or catch the most fish in Linda's pond. There was only Kami and Krissi and I to stand against all the other big families, since my grown children weren't there. We didn't stand a chance, and that made me cranky.

We had a Bar-b-Que on the 4^th of July, and celebrated dad's birthday. Everyone was worn out by evening, and no one but us cared about going to watch fireworks that night. I tried to talk my little sisters into letting their kids come with me, but they wanted them to stay with them, so just Kami and Krissi and I drove into Show Low for the program, and that also made me cross.

I was pretty much reveling in my bad mood by the last night of our reunion, almost enjoying finding fault with everything we did, until after dinner when we all gathered in mom and dad's huge living room to play “Liars Club”. We were all sitting around their fireplace, on three couches, lots of chairs, pillows, and the area rug in the center of the room, when my sister, Linda, got up to explain the rules of this new game.

“OK, everybody,” she began. “What we do is pick pick three people to come up in front of everybody. Two of them have to make up a lie about themselves, and one has to tell something true that none of the rest of us knows. Then we all guess who is telling the truth.”

That sounded kind of fun, so I perked up a little.

Mom and Phillip and Heather were chosen to tell about themselves during one round. I can't remember the other stories, but mom said, “I've never told you this before, but when my big sister, your Aunt Amy, got married, me and my best girl friend stole a whole layer from her wedding cake and took it behind the house where her reception was and ate it until we both got sick.”

We all laughed, but no one could imagine mother being such a stinker, especially since she would have been at least sixteen at the time. Surely she wouldn't pull a prank like that at her own sister's wedding. We all guessed that mom's story was one of the lies, but we were wrong. Apparently, she really did steal Aunt Amy's wedding cake and eat it with her girl-friend.

When it was my brother-in-law's turn, he looked around at all of us, cleared his throat, and began: “You know how every Friday they made you take a spelling test when you were in elementary school? Well, in fifth grade my teacher made us pass our paper to the person behind us for them to grade it. I sat behind a really smart-Alec girl who always got 100% on her test, and it used to make me cross. So, one Friday when I graded her test, I erased all her corect words and wrote them in again, spelled wrong, and gave her an F on her test.”

We laughed again at this story, but I wasn't sure it was actually a lie. My brother-in-law might be a straight-laced, honorable fellow now that he was all grown up, but I could imagine what a cut-up he might have been in fifth grade. That time I guessed right: he was telling the truth.

That turned out to be a really fun night, and suddenly it felt like I was home, even if I was in a new house, in a new city, hundreds of miles away from where I'd grown up and spent countless evenings with my family, just like this, laughing, joking, swapping stories, and just loving each other. My attitude changed that night, and I realized it was going to be OK for mom and dad to live in Snowflake, after all. We were still the same family, no matter how close we lived to each other, and we still loved and enjoyed each others company. That was the most comfortable, happy evening I'd had in a long time, and it sure felt good to be back to normal, even if I did have to go home to Gilbert the next day and leave mother and dad up in Snowflake in their new house.

From that moment on I stopped resenting the changes and the lost past, and started looking forward to the future and moving to Snowflake myself some day. Most of all, I knew wherever I lived, my family would always be there for me, and they would love me, no matter what.

The Bad Grandma

Aren't grandmothers supposed to take good care of their grandchildren? I thought I was a pretty good grandmother, until the weekend I took care of Linnea's children.

The week after Stephen left on his mission and mom and dad moved to Snowflake, my oldest daughter, Linnea, left her three children with me while she and her husband went on a long awaited vacation to Lake Powell.

They dropped the kids off on Saturday morning, and we had lots of fun until Monday. I had to turn in my final projects to art class that morning, so one of Linnea's friends watched the kids Sunday night and Monday morning. I stopped to pick them up on my way home from class.

“I'm sorry, but Rylyn seems to be getting sick,” Stephanie told me at her door. “She was feeling OK this morning, but after I dropped Tais off at school, she lay on the couch and didn't even want to get up.”

I felt Rylyn's forehead. It sure was hot.

“I'm sorry, Stephanie,” I apologized. “I appreciate you watching the kids for me, and I hope Rylyn hasn't got your children sick.”

“Oh, no, I suspect it was my kids who gave it to Rylyn,” Stephanie told me as I took the kids out to my car.

I buckled Zan, who was two, and Rylyn, who was four, in, then drove to their elementary school to pick up Tais, who was six. Her school got out half an hour earlier than our elementary school, so I was home just in time to meet my Kami and Krissi as they walked in the door.

Kami, who was in sixth grade, had a project due in two days, making a full scale model of a castle. She could have chosen a partner to work with, but she decided she wanted me to be her partner, so we worked all afternoon gluing sugar cubes together, building a castle.

It turned out really cool, but there was a huge mess in our kitchen by the time we were done. I decided to Bar B Que dinner, so we could eat outside.

Rylyn had lain listlessly on the couch in the TV room all afternoon while we worked. I took her temperature again just before dinner, and it had climbed to 103 degrees.

“Why don't you stay in here and eat your supper on the couch?” I suggested, but she really wanted to be with everyone else, so I finally gave her some Tylenol and bundled her up in a quilt so she could come outside.

After dinner, I took her inside to get her cleaned up and into pajamas. I left Zan and Tais with the big girls, but while I was getting Rylyn bathed Kami carried in a screaming Zan.

“Zan fell out of the swing while I was swinging him,” Kami explained when I asked her what had happened.

“Was he swinging very high when he fell?” I asked as I picked him up.

“No, I don't think so.”

Zan wouldn't stop crying and holding onto me. I put him in the tub to clean him up, and couldn't see anything wrong, but he wouldn't stand up by himself and wanted to be held all the time. I finally gave him some Ibuprofen and he fell asleep while I walked with him.

“I think if something was broken he wouldn't be able to sleep,” I told Moe later that evening. “And nothing seems to be swollen.”

I tried calling Linnea, but couldn't get through on her cell phone. Finally I put Zan to bed and took care of Rylyn. Her temperature went up so hot in the middle of the night that I put her in a cool bath to bring it down, as well as giving her Ibuprofen and Tylenol. That finally helped, and at last she fell asleep on the couch. It was a long night.

The next morning Zan woke up happy, but he wouldn't stand on his leg. I had to get the girls off to school, and then take Tais to her school. As I was driving out my driveway I passed our next door neighbor putting out his garbage. He was a pediatrician, so I asked if he would take a look at Zan's leg.

“I don't know, Gale,” Dale told me after looking Zan over. “I think his leg might be broken. You should take him to the emergency room so they can x-ray it.”

I drove Tais to school, then came home and tried to a hold of Linnea and Jason to see where to take Zan and what to do about insurance. Cell phone reception was not good up at Lake Powell, but I finally got through to them and got their insurance numbers. Then I called our local hospital to see if they could x-ray little kids legs, and if they could do it since I was just the grandma and his parents were out of town.

They said yes, so I took Zan and Rylyn down to the hosptial.

It was about 11:00 am when we got there. They got Zan in right away to X-ray his leg. He was a little angel, and sat on the table and never made a peep. Then we sat in the waiting room. Zan didn't seem to be in much pain, and Rylyn was feeling a little better.

We waited, and waited. I had put Zan in a little chair at a child's table, where he could play with some toys. After awhile he forgot about his hurt leg and tried to stand up before I could get to him. He collapsed on the floor and began to cry and cry. By that time the ibuprofen I had given him had worn off, but the nurse wouldn't let me give him more until he saw a doctor.

Eventually we were put in an examination cubicle, where we had to wait again. Rylyn finally fell asleep on the bed. A nurse came and told us Zan's leg was broken, and she had some Ibuprofen to give him. That perked him right up, and soon he was singing and playing while we waited for them to set his leg. They couldn't cast it at the hospital, but they put a brace around it until he could see his regular doctor, then they finally sent us home.

Linnea and Jason got home just as we finished at the hospital, so I drove the kids over to their house.

“I'm so sorry,” I told them over and over again as we brought Zan and Rylyn into their house. “You're not supposed to have to worry about your kids when you leave them with their grandma, but I sure did a bad job taking care of them this time.” Thank goodness they still loved me.

Mom and Dad Moved

I started painting pictures of a river and the ocean when I got home from seeing Stephen off at the airport. I only had a few days left before I needed to hand in my final projects in my watercolor class, and now I had something important I really wanted to paint.

My stomach felt kind of queasy, but I knew it was just homesickness and not the flue. My sisters came over during the morning to help mom pack. She and dad's house was almost finished in Snowflake, and mom had been dreading this part of their move, so it was nice of my sisters to come help. It really wasn't a good time for me, but I stopped painting for a little while so I could talk to them.

My sisters were really going to town when I walked into mom's kitchen. They were boxing up everything!

“Leave me some flour and sugar and stuff,” mom told them as they went to work on her pantry. “When dad and I come down I'll still need to cook.”

“Oh, you probably won't be doing any baking,” Linda told her.

“At least leave some cereal and canned food,” Mom asked them, getting up from her chair at the kitchen table to supervise.

“Go sit down,” the girls ordered her. “We'll do this for you.”

“I'll need a couple of those mixing bowls,” mom tried again when they started stripping her shelves. “And leave me some dishes and cups and silverware for us when we're here in town.”

“Don't worry about this,” the girls told her as they kept right on pulling stuff out and putting it into boxes. “Just sit there and rest, we know what we're doing.”

I stopped wiping off shelves and turned to my sisters. “Guys, you don't need to pack everything up today,” I tried to tell them. “Mom really is going to need a few things when she and dad come down, and there's plenty of time to pack her stuff up.”

“We're doing this, now. Today!” my sisters informed me huffily.

“But lets not wear mom out,” I tried again, wondering what their big hurry was? “And you really don't need to pack everything, you know. After all, the house still hasn't sold, and mom and dad will be coming and going on and off until it does. Mom's going to need some of her stuff, you know.”

That was the wrong thing to say, I guess.

“Mom and dad are not coming back to Gilbert any more!” the girls informed me angrily. “They are moving up to Snowflake, and mom is going to stay there!”

I looked from one sister to the other. What on earth? But one thing I did not do, and that was cause contention. Especially for mom's sake, I was not going to get into an argument with my sisters. I had to get my art projects ready to turn in anyway, so I went back to my side of the house and back to painting.

A few minutes later, my sister Linda came over to talk to me.

“I'm sorry, Gale,” she began. “I hope I didn't hurt your feelings just now, but I'm really concerned about dad driving back and forth between Snowflake and here, and I have been hoping I can keep mom up there with me from now on.”

“I understand,” I assured Linda. “It is a long, hard drive, and dad's driving isn't getting any better, I know.”

We had a good talk. Linda was afraid I thought she and Alan had forced mom and dad to move up by them, and I assured her that I knew it was best for mom to be close to Alan so she could get good medical care. In a way, I did think they had kind of pushed this on mom, she had told me quite a few times that she wished she hadn't been so sick last year when dad first decided they should move up next to Linda and Alan. She really, really didn't want to go, but it was too late now. Dad was set on moving, thinking it the only way he could keep mom with him for the next few years, and although I hated it, I was sure the Lord would watch out for them and everything would be OK.

To tell you the truth, I was feeling pretty bad for complaining. Dad, for whatever reason, felt like he and mom needed to move. Selling the house affected me, of course, but it didn't belong to me anymore than the cabin had. It didn't matter what reasons dad had for going. It didn't matter if dad was premature or unwise in the way he tried to sell the house, or in building such a big house in Snowflake. None of that mattered. I needed to stop complaining and just start supporting them.

And I really was excited that we might be able to move up to Snowflake, too. It was just hard having to wait in Gilbert until the house sold, and then trying to figure out how to have enough money to move. But again, I knew the Lord was in control and he would take care of things.

I finished my paintings, and my sisters finished packing mom. The next morning mom and dad drove away. Our house felt totally empty, and I was all alone. My heart, my insides, ached. In fact, I felt like throwing up. It was just too much for me, saying goodbye to my parents and my son all at the same time.

“If only the Lord would show me where I was going,” I thought to myself sadly. “I feel so unsettled, so out of control.”

I got out my scriptures and opened up to where I was reading in the Book of Mormon.

“And it came to pass that we lived after the manner of happiness,” I read in the 2^nd book of Nephi, chapter five, verse 27. Really? Nephi and his family had left their home, their whole world behind them, and yet he said they lived after the manner of happiness, and they prospered. A little glimmer of hope sprang up in my heart as I pondered. I believed that was what the Lord had in store for me, too. Maybe I didn't know how it would happen, but I knew it would. And it did.

Sending Stephen Off On His Mission

“Sister Ashcroft,” President Greer turned to look at me, “would you like to bear your testimony for us this evening, before we set Stephen apart for his mission?”

I stood, looked around the room, at my parents, my husband, my children and grandchildren, the Stake President and his councilors, then back at Stephen.

“Thank you, President Greer,” I began, a lump already forming in my throat.

“Stephen, I've been thinking about you leaving all day, and wondering if I've taught you all the things I was supposed to? I'm so proud of you! I'm so proud of your desire to serve a mission for the Lord, for you willingness to give up two years of your life to teach the Gospel to the people in New Hampshire, and for your goodness and the love you have given me all of your life. You've always been my special little boy, and I'm going to miss you.”

I stopped, cleared my throat, then looked around at the people I loved again.

“This morning, when I was reading the scriptures, I came across a passage in the Book of Mormon quoting Isaiah in the Old Testament, where he laments that the people of Israel have not kept the commandments. He says, “if you had kept the commandments, then your peace would have been as a river, and your righteousness as the waves of the sea.” I love the imagery in that scripture. I can see in my mind a river, flowing continually towards the ocean. I would like to have peace like that, flowing on and on and never stopping. And I can see the waves of the ocean, like in Rocky Point, crashing on the beach or up against the rocks, one after another, unceasingly coming one after another forever. I bear you my testimony, that I know the Lord has given us his commandments, not because he likes telling us what to do, or because he enjoys seeing us obey, but because he loves us, and he knows what will make us happy and bring us peace. I want you to have the kind of unending peace and righteousness that Isaiah talks about. I hope I have taught you well enough. I pray every day that the Lord will teach you the things I've missed, and that you can learn to be obedient quickly enough to avoid heart ache and be happy now.”

“I love you, Stephen, and all of you, my family. I know that Heavenly Father loves all of us, too, and so does Jesus Christ. I know that He is my savior, my redeemer, and that this is His church. I know that through the atonement, and by living the gospel and following His commandments, we can learn how to become like Him and can come home to live with Him and Heavenly Father some day. That is what I want, more than anything else in the whole wide world. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.”

Tears were streaming down my face as I found the handles on my chair and sat back down. How could such a happy, spiritual moment, also be so poignant and make me cry?

President Greer called Stephen to come up to the front of the room, then he invited the Moe and dad and the other members of the Priesthood to join him in laying their hands on Stephen's head to set him apart as a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He blessed Stephen that if he would be obedient he would have a good mission and make a difference for the people in New Hampshire. He also reminded Stephen that he would be working for the Lord for the next two years, and he warned him that he would be discouraged at times because of the cold and his companions, but that he would be OK if he was obedient.

After being set apart, Stephen came home and finished packing his bags, then went to dinner with his cousin, Nathan, who just recently returned from his own mission. By the time he got home he was starting to feel sick, but hopefully it was just nerves.

The next morning we got up at 4:00 to take Stephen to the airport. We got ready, but Stephen was really feeling sick to his stomach. Moe and Grandpa gave him a blessing, and we packed the last of his stuff, then drove to the airport.

When we got there Stephen was really feeling miserable, but he looked excited and happy. Hopefully, if he had the flue, he wouldn't give it to all the rest of the new missionaries, but there was nothing gonna stop him from getting on that plane.

It was exciting and emotional at the airport. Kami cried, but the rest of us did pretty good until Stephen leaned down to give grandma a quick kiss goodbye. She grabbed hold of him, pulled him in tight, and made him give her a long hug.

“I'll be back before you know it, grandma,” he assured her with tears in his eyes, but I couldn't help wondering if mom was thinking this might be the last time she would see Stephen in this life? If only we had know what the next two years would bring, dad would have made him come back and give him an extra hug, too.

Then Stephen waved goodby, and he and another new missionary walked away through the security check points and headed off down the hall towards the gates and two years service in the New Hampshire Mission. I went home to paint a picture of a river, flowing to the ocean.

Another Blessing

“Gale, can you come over and help me?” Dad called anxiously up the stairs.

I dropped my brush and ran out onto the landing. “Sure, dad. What's the matter?”

“Mom's bad!” he called over his shoulder, already on the way back to his and mom's side of our double home. I ran after him; down the stairs, through my kitchen, our double living room, mom's kitchen, and up her stairs into their bedroom. Mom was half sitting, half laying in one of the two, big easy chairs that occupied the sitting area of their master-bedroom. She was as white as a sheet.

“What's the matter?” I asked her gently, catching her hand up in mine.

“I'm bleeding inside, I think,” she whispered.

“We called Alan,” dad jumped in. “He wanted us to come up to Snowflake, so we started to get ready, but mom's so weak I don't think she can make it.”

Mom tried to smile at dad apologetically, but she was too tired to even do that.

“I called Alan back and he said to call 911, so I did. The paramedics are on their way, but mom needs help to get dressed before they come.”

I looked closer at mom. Sure enough, she was still wearing her white, cotton nightgown. Turning around I saw her suitcase laying open on their unmade bed, a few odds and ends of clothing lying beside it.

“Where's your bathrobe, mom?” I asked, as the doorbell rang. “I'll help her get it on, dad. You go down and let the paramedics in.”

We got mom into her bathrobe as the young men came up the stairs. They knelt beside her, taking her vital signs and asking questions.

“I'm so sorry for the mess,” mom kept apologizing as they had to step around the packing boxes stacked next to her chair. Their new house up in Snowflake was almost finished, and mom had been collecting boxes for the move. “I didn't even get my bed made,” she worried as the paramedics helped her onto a stretcher and began carrying her down the stairs.

“It's OK, mom,” I tried to reassure her, “I'm sure these men have seen worse.”

“You betcha,” one of the nice boys agreed, and the other men nodded their heads. “You'd be amazed at what we've seen.”

Once they had mom out in the ambulance, dad got his car and followed them to the hospital. As soon as I had the girls fed and off to school I joined him. We'd asked the paramedics if they could take mom to the new hospital in town, Gilbert mercy Medical Center. It was a little closer, brand new, and we hoped less busy and more personal than the hospital she'd gone to before.

It was a wonderful change for the better. The staff was caring and calm. They treated mom and the rest of our family like we were the most important people there, and I was really impressed.

“If I ever have to go to the hospital, I'm coming here!” I told my daughter on the phone that afternoon as I explained what was happening.

“Do they know what's wrong yet?” she asked.

“They did a colonoscopy, and found a tumor,” I told her. “It's bleeding, and they need to do surgery right away, but before they can do that they have to give her another angiogram to make sure her heart is up to it.”

The previous year, mom had been in the hospital for sixteen days waiting for emergency surgery. There was so much red tape, mis-comunication and wasted time that we all about had strokes before she finally had quadruple by-pass surgery. It was after that that dad decided to move to Snowflake where my brother-in-law, the doctor, could care for mom personally. This time, though, things went much smoother. The angiogram was done the following morning, it came back good, and she had surgery that afternoon.

“Everything looks really good,” the surgeon told us afterwords. “I think we got all of the tumor, and she did very well.”

A few days later mom was released from the hospital, weak, but much stronger than when she had gone in. The doctor called the next day with the best news of all. The tumor was not cancerous, after all. Yeah!

“Personally, I have to call it a little miracle,” he told mom and dad over the phone. “When a tumor like that bleeds, it is always cancerous, and I was just hoping we got it all. You are one lucky lady.”

Lucky? Yes. But blessed would be a better word, I think. Before her surgery, dad, my husband, my brothers and brother-in-laws all went down to the hospital and gave mother a priesthood blessing. Once again, the Lord had blessed her and she was allowed to stay with us. Maybe I was having a hard time letting her and dad move away. Maybe I wasn't very happy about them selling the house, the cabin, and changing everything in my life, but I was grateful at that moment that I still had my mother. There was still so many things I needed to learn from her!

Art Class

I had no idea what new trials or adventures would come my way in 2007, but one thing I knew: I had would take two three-hour college classes to keep my teaching certificate current.

I got my Arizona teaching certificate 1977, when I graduated from ASU. I only taught for seven years, but I made a point of keeping my certificate current, just the same. That meant I had to take a couple of college classes every six years, and I was due to renew my certificate in the summer of 2007. It was amazing to me to think that thirty years had gone by since I graduated from college, and very intimidating to realize I was going to have to go back to school. My brain had slowed down during that time, and I wasn't sure I could keep learn anymore.

The more I considered what classes to take, the more apprehensive I became. I'd taken history, interior decorating, writing, and teaching reading classes in the past to keep my certificate up to date, but I really didn't want to work that hard anymore. After all, I was over fifty, a grandmother, and plenty busy just trying to keep our house in shape for the occasional prospective buyer who dropped by, let alone having Grandma Day once a week; raising my last two daughters who were just finishing elementary school; substituting in our school district; volunteering as the History Lady; getting Stephen ready to go on a two year mission for our church; taking care of our two acre yard while dad spent most of his time in Snowflake overseeing the building of his new house; and drawing house plans for our own dream house that we hoped to build when Moe retired.

The more I worried about doing homework, studying for tests, and trying to make my brain remember all the information I was needed to learn, the more I dreaded beginning. Then I had a brain wave. Why did I have to take classes that would teach me stuff I really didn't care about learning? Why not learn how to do something I'd always wanted to know how to do? Like paint!

I checked with the state department of Education just to make sure art classes would satisfy my renewal requirements, then began looking for classes. I found a beginning watercolor and a basic drawing class, and quickly signed up. This was going to be fun!

The first day of class I was nervous. My drawing class was full of new little college kids, obviously taking the class thinking it would be an easy A. I sure felt like a fish out of water. The watercolor class was much more up my alley, most of those students were older adults like me, but I was intimidated by the fact that they were all returning students. Apparently, the beginning class was combined with the intermediate and advanced classes, and these people were good!

My teachers were amazing, but they didn't baby us along. We were given major assignments the first day of class. Within a week, most of the kids in the drawing class had dropped out, discovering that teacher wasn't easy, after all.. He immediately began us using charcoal, which scared me to death, but soon I discovered I liked drawing with charcoal as much, if not more, than painting. It was so cool!

All through that spring I drew, painted, and employed my creative talents. It was such good therapy. I might be stressed about selling the house, figuring out where we were going to live, preparing Stephen for two years of proselyting on the East coast, dealing with two pre-adolescent daughters, grandchildren, and a husband nearing retirement, but I was also making beautiful pictures that calmed my spirit, lightened my heart, and brought joy into my life. Having to take those classes, at that time, became one of the sweetest gifts I ever received, and I thanked Heavenly Father again and again for one more of His tender mercies that got me through that difficult time.

2006, A Confusing Year

“What a confusing year this has been,” I told mom as I sat beside her on the couch in our big family room. It was New Years Eve, 2006, and we were sitting in the big family room, visiting.

“It sure has been,” Mom agreed. “This time last year, dad and I thought we were getting ready to on a mission. I had no idea we would be building a house and planning to move up to Snowflake, instead.”

I smiled at mom. She'd already confided in me her uneasiness about moving. Dad wanted to do whatever it took to keep her healthy, and moving next door to my sister, Linda, and her husband Alan who was a doctor, seemed to be the best way to do that. But mom hated leaving her family, her friends, and her house in Gilbert.

“I really hate to think about packing,” she worried. “I wish we could just set fire to everything and start over again.”

I laughed, but understood. Mom was just now getting her strength back after being in the hospital and being diagnosed with pulmonary hypertension. She still had to use oxygen, which she hated, and she tired easily.

“When does dad think the house will be done?” I asked her.

“This spring. Hopefully this house will sell before then, but what will you do if it does?”

“I don't know,” I told her honestly, sighing, “but it will be fine. Moe can retire in a couple of years, and then hopefully we can move up to Snowflake, too. In the meantime, maybe we will rent something around here. We'll see. Have you tried this dark chocolate covered fruit? I think it's yummy.”

I passed mom a bowl with chocolate covered dried blueberries, strawberries, cherries, and apricots. They were good, and I'd bought them special as a treat to celebrate New Years Eve.

“Excellent,” mom praised the candy, taking a second piece. “One thing I've decided for sure, I'm going to eat more chocolate from now on. Obviously eating healthy hasn't done me much good.”

I laughed, and agreed.

“Anyway, this has been quite a year,” I began again. “You had quadruple bypass heart surgery. Dad decided to sell the house and move to snowflake. Grandma Ashcroft passed away. Alyssa had a baby girl. You almost died again and we found out you have pulmonary hypertension. Stephen is getting ready to go on a mission. Russell found out that Melody has divorced him, and we no longer have a cabin. Wow!”

“Wow is right,” Mom seconded me. “And next year is probably going to be just as confusing.”

“I suppose so,” I contemplated. “You'll move up to Snowflake, Stephen will leave on his mission, if the house sells we'll move.......someplace. I wonder what we'll be doing on New Year's Eve next year?”

One thing's for sure, I never expected to be celebrating it in our own home up in Snowflake.

Selling the Cabin

October, 2006

I had to leave mom in the hospital in Show Low and come home at the end of the week to take care of the rest of my family. She was doing better, but I'd been away from my little girls too long. Of course, they hadn't even noticed, since they'd been staying at their friends house, and having a glorious time!

Alyssa and Matt blessed their first baby daughter, Kaylan, that Sunday. She looked like an angel. Mom and dad felt bad for not being there, but Alyssa understood.

Two days later, dad drove down from Snowflake to get some of moms stuff. She was doing better, but Alan wanted her to stay at his house so he could keep an eye on her. Things were pretty much ready by this time for mom and dad to start building their own house across the street from Linda and Alan, if only our house in Gilbert would sell so they would have enough money. Dad was determined not to take out a mortgage.

I had a Primary Presidency meeting that morning. Dad was there when I got home, and he came over to our side of the house to talk to me.

“Gale,” he began, “I met a man up in Snowflake yesterday who is interested in buying the cabin. He knows Linda and Alan, and his son has gone there with them.”

“Oh, brother!” I thought. “Here we go again.” I'd hoped, what with mom being sick and everything, that dad had forgotten his concern over what would happen to the cabin after he was gone. We'd discussed it in a family meeting a year ago, where he'd explained his fear that the cabin might become a source of contention eventually, with so many descendants all wanting to use it at the same time, but we hadn't talked about it since then.

“I sold it to him today,” dad said.

What?

“He really wanted to buy it,” he tried to soften the look of shock he must have seen on my face, “and he paid us enough to start the house in Snowflake.”

The room reeled around me. It was as if someone had pulled a rug out from under my feet and I was flat on the floor with the breath knocked out of me. It was awful! I know it's silly, but hearing that dad had sold the cabin was worse than having my husband walked out on me all those years ago. I belonged to the cabin. It was who I was; it was my dreams, my hopes, my happiness; and it felt as if a part of me had just been cut out!

Pulmonary Hypertension

“Mom,” Alyssa said, “you're wanted on the phone.”

I was? Who would be calling me at Alyssa's house?

I was spending the day with my middle daughter, helping her finish a tiny little blessing gown she had sewn for her new baby, Kaylan. The dress was adorable, like Kaylan, and I was having fun visiting and playing with her.

“Hello?”

“Gale, this is Keith,” my oldest brother told me over the phone. “I've been trying to get a hold of you all morning. Mom's had some kind of an attack, and is in the hospital up in Show Low.”

“Is she OK?” I asked in alarm.

“They don't know yet. I've been talking to Linda, she's with dad at the hospital, but they don't know anything yet.”

“What happened? Mom was fine when she and dad left this morning to go up to Alan's mother's funeral.”

“Linda says mom collapsed just after they got there. She and dad were a little early, so they went to Linda's house first. Mom was trying to get out of the car and she just collapsed. Linda and dad called 911, and they rushed her to the hospital. Alan had to go to the funeral, of course, he was going to go to the hospital right after, but his dad collapsed at the cemetery, so he's taking care of him.”

My goodness! What was happening to everybody? Alan was my sister's husband, and his mother had died unexpectedly the week before, passing out as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror, fixing her hair. It was totally unexpected, since her health was good except for a cough she'd been fighting. Moe's mother had passed away a month earlier, but she'd been declining for years. Now mom was in the hospital, too, and I was scared.

“Are you going up to Snowflake?” I asked Keith.

“Yes. As soon as Becky and I can get away. Do you want to ride with us?”

“Let me see,” I answered slowly. “Moe is up at Blue Ridge, elk hunting, and I probably won't be able to get him on the phone, he doesn't get reception at his camp. The girls are in school, but I could take them out, I guess. I'll have to see what I can do.”

“Just let me know,” Keith told me. “We won't go for a couple of hours.”

After hanging up and explaining the situation to Alyssa, I drove home. She would have liked to go to Snowflake with me, but Kaylan's baby blessing was that weekend, and she needed to get ready for that. On the way home I called my oldest daughter, Linnea.

“Honey, I won't be able to do Grandma Day tomorrow,” I told her. “Grandma Russell is in the hospital up in Show Low, and I need to go up there.”

I explained as much as I knew about the situation while I drove.

“I want to go with you,” Linnea told me when I was done. “Jason can get a discount on rental cars through his business. I'll call him and get him to rent one big enough for all of us.”

That sounded like a great idea to me, but I still wasn't sure about how things were going to work out. I sure wished Moe was home, or at least near a phone so I could talk to him.

In the end, neither Kami or Krissi wanted to get out of school to go up to Snowflake, but our neighbor, their best friend's mother, volunteered to let them stay at her house. That was a big relief. Linnea's husband was able to get a good deal on a rental car, and we were able to get off by early afternoon.

We drove straight to Moe's hunting camp. He was surprised to see me, but said as long as the girls were happy with their friends, it was fine with him if I went on over to Snowflake to be with mom. We didn't talk long, then we headed on over to Snowflake.

“How's mom doing?” I asked Linda on the phone as soon as we got within cell phone reception.

“She's holding her own,” Linda told me. “They are going to do an angiogram, to see if there's another blockage or something, but for now she's doing OK.”

We got to Snowflake just after dark. Linda's daughters volunteered to watch Linnea's kids, so we dropped them off at her house, then drove on up to Show Low, where the hospital was. Mom was still in ICU, but I got to see her for a minute, and talk to dad.

Later that night, back at Linda's, we talked with the rest of my brothers and sisters. This whole thing was getting old. Six months earlier we'd all been together when mom was in the hospital for weeks, finally having quadruple by-pass surgery. Now we were on pins and needles again, trying to find out what was wrong this time. At least here my brother-in-law, Alan, was able to coordinate mom's care and make sure things were being done the right way at the hospital. It sure was nice having a doctor in the family.

It made me admit, albeit grudgingly, that I understood why dad wanted to sell our house down in Gilbert and move up to Snowflake, across the street from Linda and Alan.

Mom's angiogram came back clear the next morning. She didn't have any more blockages. The cardiologist performed a number of other tests, and eventually diagnosed her with pulmonary hypertension, a condition that affected both her heart and lungs. Apparently there were two types of the disease, one that responded to medication, one that didn't. The final word was that they would try giving mom medicine, and hope it would help. In the meantime, she had to use oxygen to breath, and that helped a little, although she hated the smell, the dryness, and the inconvenience of using it. Still, she was able to come home, and within a few days was up and around again. Thank goodness for small blessings. At least she was still with us!

Time Passing On

Kami and Krissi started school in August, 2006, and the house still had not sold. Dad got fed up with the Real Estate Agent, who didn't seem to be pushing very hard to sell the house. Eventually he lowered the price again and decided to sell the house himself. Once in awhile someone would come by to look things over, but no one was really interested. Even though they would be getting a smoking good deal; two acres of prime Gilbert property and a 4,500 square-foot home for less than the price of bare land in our area, $750,000 was still a lot of money. People spending that much wanted to get a gorgeous house. They were looking for marble counter-tops, real wood floors, plush carpets, and upgraded stainless steel appliances. What they found was a nice, comfortable, simple farm-style home with no luxurious amenities. Oh well. I was happy staying put for as long as I could.

On the other hand, dad forged ahead building a home for mom up in Snowflake. At the moment, she was doing semi-well. Her legs hurt continually, there was something wrong with the sciatic nerves they though, but the doctors couldn't find any way to relieve the pain. Her feet were also numb or painful, but at least her heart and lungs seemed to be working better since her open-heart surgery. Still, dad was determined to get her up to Snowflake so Alan could keep an eye on her, and they spent a great deal of time up there as dad cleared the lot across the street from Linda and Alan and got it ready for building. Mom went with him, but she wasn't as excited as he was about moving. She loved her home in Gilbert, her friends from church, the neighborhood, and all the people she had grown up with, but most of all she loved being close to her family. She still had two sisters and a brother who lived in Mesa whom she was very close to, as well as most of her children and grandchildren.

Moe's mother, on the other hand, was slowly slipping away. By the end of the summer she had stopped eating, communicating, or even showing signs of recognition when we talked to her. Obviously, it was just a matter of time before she was gone. She died peacefully on September third, with Moe, his sister and his father, by her bed.

I went with them later that day to make plans at the funeral home. It was the first time I was actively involved in planning a funeral, although I'd been to many. They chose to use Bunkers Mortuary for the arrangements, and that was nice. I'd grown up down the street from the Bunker family, and it felt like home working with them.

Grandma's funeral was sweet. Perhaps I have a morbid streak, but I love funerals. Ever since I was a kid I've enjoyed hearing the happy memories, the inspiring stories, and the tender spiritual lessons presented at those occasions. Even through the tears, the spirit is always strong, and I love the feeling of being close to dear ones on the other side of the veil. It always reminds me of a big, joyful family reunion. Still, as I sat in the chapel at Grandma's funeral, I couldn't help wondering how long it would be before we had another one. Grandpa Ashcroft seemed so feeble just then, and was already in his late eighties. Also, in the back of my mind, I knew it was possible we might lose mother one of these days. How odd, that in the end mother outlived both Moe's father and my dad.

My Fiftieth Birthday

“Mom, there's someone at the door to see you!” Krissi called excitedly up the stairs.

“Brother!” I thought. “Now?” I was in the middle of trying to clean out the extra bedroom, the one we'd been shoving stuff into ever since the big kids moved out.

Picking up a bag of garbage to take down with me, I walked out onto our upstairs landing. There, standing in the TV room below me, were a group of my neighbors and friends, all laughing and visiting with each other. As soon as they saw me, they broke into singing:

“Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday dear Gale, Happy birthday to you!”

“What are you guys doing?” I asked, laughing. “My birthday isn't until tomorrow, you know.”

“We know,” they told me, “but we wanted to give you some important stuff before your birthday, so you'll be ready!”

Reaching around the kitchen door, JoEllen pulled out an old lady walker, with caution tape wrapped all around it.

“You'll be needing this,” she told me as she handed it to me, “since tomorrow you'll be fifty!”

“And we added a horn, so you can warn people you're coming,” Lari added, squeezing the brightly colored horn they had wired onto the walker.

“Thanks,” I muttered, but they weren't done making fun of me yet.

“We have something else for you,” Cynthia told me, presenting me with a metal “grabber”. It had a yellow plastic glove attached to the end. “We know you won't be able to bend down to pick stuff up much longer, so we thought this might help.”

I rolled my eyes, but didn't have a chance to say anything because Terry and Peggy rushed in, pushing a bright red hat with a purple feather and a book entitled, “The Red Hat Society” into my hands. “Tomorrow you can become an official member,” they proudly informed me.

To tell you the truth, I wasn't sure whether I should be crying or laughing at this point. I hadn't really worried about turning fifty before this. In fact, I'd kind of been looking forward to at last being as old as I looked. There's a certain peace that comes with knowing you have earned those wrinkles, and that you're not just prematurely old. Just the same, I wasn't sure I wanted everyone in the neighborhood to be celebrating my fiftieth birthday. But, then again, most of them were already ahead of me, so what the heck?

“Thank you,” I told my buddies. “You've made my day.”

“Your welcome,” they told me back. “Just make sure you pass the equipment on to the next person on the block who turns fifty.” And I did.

One Day at a Time

Our house did not sell right away. It was 2006, we lived in Arizona, and we were on the downhill slide into the housing recession. When dad first put the house on the market it appraised for just under a million dollars. Land, all by itself in Gilbert, was going for $400,000 an acre, and we were on two acres. But suddenly, no one was buying.

Dad went ahead with his plans to move mother up to Snowflake anyway. They bought a piece of land right across the street from my sister, Linda. She and Alan had built their house five years earlier, when Alan began practicing medicine in Snowflake. Dad stayed busy all summer drawing house plans and driving mom back and forth to see Alan.

At the same time, Moe's mother deteriorated more and more. Since her stroke she had been unable to walk or take care of herself, and gradually she stopped knowing what was going on, spoke very little, and ate only when she was fed.

Moe's father wore himself out taking care of her, and ended up in the hospital himself. Moe's sister came down from Utah to take care of her mother, but she was afraid to be alone with her at their house, so they moved in with us.

Moe spent Father's Day at the hospital with his dad. Grandpa was having a hard time being in the hospital, he didn't understand why or where he was, and the only thing that seemed to calm him down was having Moe with him. The doctor ordered a heavy sedative to help calm grandpa down, so Moe left to get something to eat and take a shower. He got back to discover grandpa tied hand and foot to the bed, still struggling.

Eventually the medicine finally began to work, so Moe came home for a few hours the next day to sleep.

“You won't believe it,” he told me and his sister as he walked in the door. “Dad actually broke the hospital bed trying to get loose last night. Then he told me that he dreamed about being captured by Indians, staked out over an ant hill, with his hands and feet tied to trees.”

We laughed, but I sure felt bad for Grandpa. After he got out of the hospital, grandpa wasn't able to take care of grandma by himself anymore. Thank goodness Moe's sister was able to move in permanently with them, working from home. A few weeks later, though, she needed to go to California for work, so both Grandma and Grandpa came to live with us for a week. This time we moved them into our big adjoining living room. Mom and Dad were up in Snowflake again, and it was easier to fit a hospital bed, wheel chairs, and the other stuff they needed in there. I got pretty good at changing diapers and feeding people, but I wrote in my journal that my life had gone crazy. “Nothing is the same anymore,” I wrote,” but we just keep going on from day to day.”

That was one long, hot summer. The temperature reached 118 degrees in July. Thank goodness all our neighbors had swimming pools, and they graciously let the girls go swimming whenever they wanted. As August approached, I worried what to do about the girls school. If the house sold, we would have to move, and I hated making them change in the middle of the year, but with no idea when that would be, it seemed inevitable that they at least start at their regular school. So, in the middle of August Kami began 6^th grade and Krissi began 5^th. I wondered where we would be by the end of the school year, but for the moment, at least, we were just taking life one day at a time.