1st Annual David Smith Memorial Uinta Trip

I really wanted to start our annual trip this year.  I had thought we'd go for a few days in July, but as my summer plans changed and I got a job in Arizona it became apparent that a trip in July wasn't really feasible.  So I propsed at the last minute to my little brother a quick over night trip in June right before I move.  He was game, and so was my brother Mike.

We packed up what camping gear we could find, loaded up the cars and headed off for a night in the Uinta's.  I've never stayed the night here.  It's amazing.  The stars are magnificent.

3 of my nephews came along with us.  As soon as we claimed a spot, we headed to the lake (Mirror Lake) and spent a few hours fishing and playing in the water.  It was gloriously warm and sunny.  Water has a power of it's own.

We then came back to camp, changed in to dry warm clothes, started a fire and roasted hotdogs and marshmellows.  The boys thought the fire would burn them.  They then spent the rest of their time killing "spiders."  Finally when the sun set and it was getting dark, we sat around the fire.

All the boys (big and little) are sleeping now.  I'm sitting by the fire, thinking of my Dad.  He would have loved to be here with his sons and grandsons.  I can picture him sitting on his camp chair by the lake watching them play.  He'd be so proud as he watched his own sons with their sons.  My brothers did note that he would be dissappointed in our food choices (it was last minute and we didn't want to bring all the gear to wash dishes).  But don't worry Dad, I'm sleeping in your mummy bag on a blue tarp tonight.  I think you'd be happy about that.

I hope to make this an annual thing... and for longer than one night.  Some years I hope to backpack into his favorite lake (Allen Lake) sans Llamas however.  But for now, I'm happy I got to go before I move.  I'm really happy to share this experience with two of my brothers and their boys.  And with my Dad.  He's always around.
This is what the first Annual David Smith Memorial Uinta Trip looked like....

Forgetting

Dad loved to wear a Santa Hat during Christmas

The thing I fear most is forgetting. Particularly forgetting what it felt like to hug my Dad, or have him place his hands on my head. I'm afraid of forgetting his voice calling me, "Goose" or making up songs and singing them as we drive or clean.

Sometimes I wonder why it's so easy to forget the good things of life. The happy memories and feelings. And yet so hard to forget pain, heartache and anguish.

I don't really have an answer to that. But I miss my Dad. I'm afraid I'm forgetting

There are two places I go where I feel like I can talk to my Dad again; both mountains. The literal mountains and the mountain of the Lord- temples.
It wasn't long after my Dad passed away that the fear of forgetting him started to swell up inside me.  I wasn't afraid that I'd forget that he lived or that he was my Dad, but that I would forget the tiny things- the quirks, the sayings, the expressions, the looks that made up my Dad.  It wouldn't be something that happened consciously, but more of a slow slip from my memory that I wouldn't know was happening until it was too late.

My friend Emily sent me a text message after she heard about my Dad's passing.  She had lost her Dad suddenly 2 years earlier.  I expressed my fear of forgetting... especially forgetting what he sounds like.  I still am.  In fact, I haven't heard his voice since December 27, 2011.  I miss it.

The Monday after my Dad passed away I went for a hike.  Hiking is therapy for me.  I escape a little bit from the busyness that surrounds typical life, and just get to enjoy the natural beauty of this earth, ponder, meditate and pray all while hiking.  Sometimes I stop and do it.  Other times I have an ongoing conversation with Heavenly Father as I walk.  That day I expressed my fear of forgetting my Dad.  I expressed how worried I was that my future family wouldn't get to know him in this life.  They won't know what it is like to be hugged my him, to sit on his lap, to hear him pray over them, to hear him sing songs he made up.  I mourn over those losses.  So as I hiked I wanted some inspiration of how to remember my Dad, how to carry his legacy on, and how to honor him and the people, places and things he loved in this world.

3 things came into my thoughts...

1. Keep his shirts and make a blanket out of them.  When I wanted a hug from my Dad I could wrap myself up and be surrounded by him.  I decided to also give my siblings something.  I didn't have enough to make them all quilts so I made them pillow cases and gave it to them on Father's Day this year.

2. Start a yearly David Smith Memorial Uinta trip.  My Dad went hiking in the Uinta's each summer starting with the boyscouts in Oak City.  Those trips are the stuff legends are made of. 

3.  Hike the whole Pacific Crest Trail (PCT).  When we lived in California my Dad set the ambitious goal of hiking the PCT.  It runs from the Mexican to the Canadian Boarder.  Every now and then he'd go hike for a few days doing a section at a time.  Usually he took my brother Rob.  Once I got to go.  I've been fascinated by the idea of hiking it for a long time.  In fact, when my Dad came to Washington to move me back to Utah last year, I mentioned I just might go hike the trail.  Worried for my safety, he advised against it at the time.  But if I can rope people to do portions of it with me each year, I think he would approve.

These pieces of inspiration have brought me much comfort over the last 6 months since his passing.  I know these won't satisfy all my fears.  But I think that by actively participating in the activities he loved to do, I can honor and remember him.

Nothing brings me more comfort and satisfaction than seeing that my nephews still remember Grandpa David.  A few days ago I was browsing through some pictures, when my nephews saw a picture and exclaimed, "Hey, that's Grandpa David!"  They often ask me to show them pictures of him.  I loved going to Dad's grave and seeing notes about Grandpa David left there by my two oldest nephews. 

I also love to tell them things about Grandpa.  On the way up to camp this last weekend, Andy asked my nephew Danny if he knew why we were driving all this way to go camping.  Andy then explained that this was Grandpa's favorite place to come.  The next day I said something about how Grandpa loved it up here, and turned to Danny and said, "Did you know that."  "Yep, you and Dad told me that in the car."  I hope they continue to remember Grandpa, and share those memories with me too!

Home

They say "Home is where the heart is." And that's just my problem right now. My heart is in so many pieces, and I've left those pieces in so many places that I don't quite know where I should go or where I should be.

There's a piece of my heart on the coast of California wading in the Pacific Ocean. Those granite sandy beaches constantly shaped by the crashing of waves calls to my toes and feet. The seemingly endless sun rays always ready to kiss my freckled cheeks, nose and shoulders. The slimy strands of kelp clinging to my legs begs me to dive and discover the mysteries held in the giant kelp forests. My heart will always long to be close to the ocean.

Utah also holds quite a bit of my heart. The Wasatch mountain skyline is embossed in the depths of my soul. The quickly changing ecosystems from cold desert scrub to high alpine peaks is so tantalizing to me. Plus Utah is where I first experienced 4 seasons. Not to mention that Utah is where I "grew" up as in; I became a young adult while living in Utah. Those were good years to me.

The lush green land and grey skies of Seattle hold a very special piece of my heart. One I'll never get back. While I never intended to stay in Washington when I moved there for graduate school, my heart told me something different half way through and I followed it. I'm a better women for it.

Washington's turbulent weather is what first captured my heart. I didn't quite understand the weather patterns that were happening and I decided to dedicate a big part of my graduate years to figuring out how it all works. I never knew the conversation about weather could be so very fascinating.

The people of Washington captured my heart as well. I met such amazing people... hippies, liberals, free thinkers, open minded, kind, welcoming people. People who I connected with in a way I never had before. A part of me was discovered and released. I felt a part of something bigger when I am with them. Plus I have this group of valiant, stalwart women and men I was blessed to be surrounded with during the most heart-wrenching experience of my life. I found love and lost it. Washington will always be home.

Then there is the cactus studded skies of Arizona. I escaped to Arizona when I left Washington last year. Nothing is more polar opposites than Arizona and Washington. But that's probably what has allowed me to let my heart be open again. It is such a foreign place to me. I threw myself into trying to learn the names of odd looking plants during that trip. And into the arms of loving friends. For some reason I feel a growing connection to this place. This place of dry, intense heat... and yet still full of life. The plants and animals have learned to live here; I feel I can too. Last year my life was like this land of dry, intense heat...yet still so full of life. And so, my connection grows even stronger.

I've thought about this word "Home" a lot. While some reserve it for the place they lay their head down at night. I use it freely to describe a place I feel alive and at peace. Home will always be a place created by ALL the places I've lived and the experiences I've had. Home is where the people I love are. Home is where I feel connected to the land. Home is where I feel most like ME!

I don't know where I'll end up living in the next few months. It may just be back where a piece of my heart is. Or it may be a new place that I will learn to love. That's one of my favorite things about me... I can find beauty and fall in love with so very many places. But this I know for sure: Wherever I end up living, will be HOME.

Unsettled

I need to write tonight. I'm learning that writing what is in my heart and soul is therapeutic and releases a burden my spirit feels.

I'm not really sure what is in my heart and soul right now. And I think that is what the problem is. So don't expect too much from this post.

I have been so anxious and unsettled these past few weeks. As I finished school a week ago, I've come to realize the time has come where I have to make new life decisions. I have to decide what my next move is going to be. And it's all been very unsettling.

Ever since I suddenly moved back to Utah, I've literally moved every 3 to 4 months. I guess you can say it's a lifestyle I've adapted to. Many of my favorite things from my life in Washington have remained in boxes. And every time I moved, less and less of my things have moved with me.

I thought I was ready to settle down. I was excited to pick a place to call my new home and move forward with life, until last week.

When the possibility of having to actually choose arose, I went into full panic mode. In a very emotional week, I came to realize why I was panicking; my next decision is in a very symbolic and real way me acknowledging that this phase of my life is done. That I am moving forward. There's no more little tiny hole for the possibility of reconciliation with Jeremy. While I didn't live the last year thinking that would happen... there was always the what if's lingering and a bit of hope. When I move forward with life. I am acknowledging that chapter of life is done. It's heartbreaking and scary.

It also means a life without my Dad. One that he isn't around to participate in. He's not here to give his input (even if I usually ended up doing what he didn't want me to do: move away), and that is really hard to accept. At least he knew this place that I'm living in now, and he knew I was going to be doing my student teaching. But now I feel like life is going to move past these milestones and he doesn't get to participate.

While part of me longs and yearns for a place to call home again, I sometimes wonder if I'm made to stay in one place for a long time. Maybe I'm meant to be a vagabond moving about. And then I remember my dear friends and can't imagine life without them.

Part of me longs to be out on an adventure, but deep down the core of me knows that no adventure is as fun by yourself as it is when you share it with someone else.

Most of my things will remain in boxes for months. I'm sure it will be a very emotional day when I am unpacking boxes that came from a different period of my life. Perhaps it will be a good emotional day. Perhaps I will finally feel settled again. Who knows.

And so while I wrestle with these realizations and the future possibilities I remain unsettled- heart and soul.

Flowers

As Valentines day approached this year, I was dreading it just a little bit. I've always like Valentines, but mostly because of my Dad and Mom. In my family there are two Valentines Day traditions. My mom always made heart shaped Sugar cookies with yummy pink frosting. And then she'd pipe our names on one in white frosting. I love those cookies. My Dad always sent me flowers and a poem he wrote. No matter where I was flowers magically appeared. But I knew this year neither of those would happen (because I'm not eating sugar, and Dad's not around).

At school the kids could buy a rose or a candy bar and have it delivered to the person of their choice. The day before Valentines one of my little 7th graders received a rose during class. She turned BRIGHT RED and all the boys in the class started to tease her. And in that moment I remembered the first time I received flowers from my Dad.

It was Feb. 1995, I was a freshman in my new small school, Delta High. I didn't have many friends just yet and I longed for a boy to like me (puberty I tell ya). I got called to the office and there on the counter was a giant bouquet of flowers. My heart skipped a beat. Did someone like me?!

Yes, someone did. My dad. I remember feeling really embarrassed that my Dad sent me flowers. And now I had to ride the bus all the way home with the group of boys I liked the most teasing me.

So I stopped the class and to try to turn the attention away from this girl so her skin color could turn to normal, I told that story to my students. And about how my Dad never missed a Valentines day and that this was my first one (being single) without him. Then suddenly the arm of one of the boys shot up, "Ms. Smith, I know what you should do. You should take your Dad some flowers on Valentines day."

I just shook my head and tried to hold back the tears.

To my surprise just when I thought I'd have my first Valentines without flowers a large bouquet of flowers showed up to school.

I miss my Dad. And I imagine I will miss him most on Valentines Day. But I'll be taking him some flowers each year, as my thoughtful student suggested.

Love you Dad!

In my Element

I started my student teaching earlier this month.  I was placed at Olympus Jr. High here in Salt Lake.  I'm REALLY liking it so far.  I completely took over teaching the 7th grade classes this week and I'll be taking over 9th as well next week.  I was a bit nervous and worried how to switch from one teacher who has a different classroom management style than I prefer, but I just laid down the law for my 7th graders and they seem to be going along with it.

Today, my third day in charge, my mentor teacher left on a field trip.  I felt completely at ease and in control.  Each day this week, as I've began class I have just had a feeling like I'm in my element.  It's an awesome feeling.  It's not just feeling capable, but a reassurance that I'm doing the right thing.  I love that.

One of my new favorite words is Skelitive.  On Monday I did a little pre-assessment activity, and one kid listed under the different body systems- Skelitive.  It was classic. 

My biggest challenge, is doing all the details of my lesson plans.  I have great, big ideas.  But putting forth all the effort in the details to make the big ideas happen.... is a bit painful.  It's been that way my whole life.  Hopefully one day it will get easier... or I'll find a teacher who likes to collaborate AND who is good at details.  In the meantime, my Mom has offered to help (Perk #289 for living with my Mom).

Over and Over

"I don't want to start over."

That's what I told my mom last night.  Being at school with middle schooler's is such a nice distraction from life.  I'm really enjoying.  But by the time my mom got home last night, I just couldn't keep the tears back.  I was consumed by the above thought.

See, I spent Saturday afternoon with my friend Dave Ullah.  We've been friends since Fall of 2000.  That's 11 years!  We went to lunch at a Middle Eastern place (I wanted ethnic, Dave is Pakistani), then toured some geothermal homes I was interested in and ended up at the Millcreek nursery spending over an hour helping Dave pick some house plants and pots for those plants.  Conversation is always good with Dave.  We started talking about his dating life... then it turned to mine (I don't have one).  Dave asked the litmus question, "Was I ready to start dating?"  I've been thinking about it for awhile now.  And I told him yes!  It's even made it on my list of 24 things to do in 2012.  I was feeling optimistic.  I told him I intended to attend the single adult ward here in Salt Lake.  He said, "Don't go with high expectations.  I went once and I've never been back."  (He goes to his family ward)

I went to church, I wasn't too nervous because the librarian at my school is in my ward so I figured I'd have an automatic friend.  I'm friendly, and I like people, but I can be quiet and reserved when I don't know anyone.  I walked in to church and was completely overwhelmed with how EXTREMELY HUGE the ward is.  I'm telling you it's more like a stake conference than a ward.  Really.  I wouldn't lie about that.  I don't know how I'll ever see the same people twice.  Ironically, one of my oldest brothers good friend from California goes to that ward.  When I saw him in Sunday school he turned around and said, "Abbie, aren't you like still 18... you're not supposed to be here."

Needless to say, I came home from church feeling really lost and insignificant, and overwhelmed.  How am I ever going to make friends, meet people to date?  I told my mom that afternoon that I hope people I know, know people that they think I should meet and go on a date with because I don't think I can do this again.

Then snowpocalypse hits Seattle, and I'm feeling really homesick.  Homesick for those wonderful days bundled up at home with Jeremy.  Homesick for my friends in Seattle and other places.  I have THE most awesome friends, and I just want to be with you all... not trying to make new ones.

I'm trying to tell myself to stay OPEN (my word for 2012). 
I'm not giving up. 

(but seriously... know anyone you think I'd get along with?)