tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15256405266913300242024-03-18T21:27:07.028-07:00The Dowd Crowd 2nd GenerationDowd Crowd 2http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255071547612986937noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1525640526691330024.post-70588750115556716152017-01-03T11:54:00.000-08:002017-01-03T11:54:19.772-08:00My Vocation is Motherhood and It Brings Me Joy!Inasmuch as I did not receive a diploma for my efforts in my Master's of Family Science at BYU due to some conflicts where the data I was processing and writing about was published before I completed my degree I often have felt like a failure, or that I wasted my education and that I am not good enough. All this changed this past month as I have seen the blessings in my children's lives because of my efforts as their mother.<br />
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In December our church choir performed a beautiful Christmas program during our sacrament meeting hour. My sweet Nicole sang a solo of the First Noel. I was so proud of her and felt so much love for her. Now mind you, her singing really has nothing to do with my motherhood, more of her father's training, persistence and encouragement, but she is still my daughter and I felt so happy that she is using her talents to bless the lives of others. But, as I looked up into the choir I saw her standing with some very sweet ten and eleven year old girls who would not be up there courageous and singing their tender hearts out if Nicole had not encouraged, invited and supported them. I also watched as a group of 10 and 11 year old boys sang the closing musical number as she led them and felt amazement that she could elicit such beauty from these boys. In the choir and in front of me I also saw my dear husband, my sweet son Richie and my oldest girl Rochelle. I felt such joy that I don't believe I could ever feel from a career or from teaching college which was my goal that was interrupted.<br />
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I also watched this Christmas season as a sweet young man with Down Syndrome came to our home to see Rochelle. She has worked with him for a few years. I saw the love she has for him and the love he has for her. I reflected on all of the special needs children that Rochelle has loved and cared for over the past seven years and of the love and support she has for her Uncle Carl who is autistic. I see their lives changed from her goodness and I feel such joy in my success as a mother to help raise such an amazing child. Everywhere we go people stop her and tell her that she has an amazing smile, that they noticed her on a flight, that she is the most beautiful person around. Her goodness shines through her smile and just receiving that smile lightens everyone's day. I am her mother and gratefully so!<br />
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Maddie, Josh and Carter came for Christmas. They spearheaded the kids installing a beautiful laminate wood floor in our bedroom and bathroom. When I came home from work the Thursday before Christmas I heard laughing and pounding and cooperation as they worked together with their Uncle Brian and cousin Olivia to give us this gift. They worked hard and long to complete this. I again felt amazement and joy in having raised my children and the choice that Maddie made to marry Josh who astonishes me regularly with his giving, hard working nature as well as his love and efforts to be a great husband and father as well as brother, son, son in law and brother in law. I was happy to have raised a daughter who married one as righteous as Josh. Having a grandson is a totally different joy for which I am so grateful for in my life. To watch Maddie and Josh work hard to provide a loving, nurturing environment for him brings me joy in motherhood.<br />
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I was only blessed with one son to raise and this past year has had some challenges, but I see his goodness emerging daily. I feel his desire to be good and to find himself and to love others and help them along the way. Richie grew his hair pretty long and to be honest I didn't like it most of the time. Once in awhile when it was a certain way I actually did like it. He asked me why I didn't ask him to cut it or complain much about it. I told him I loved him much more than I didn't like his hair. It's true. But, he sacrificed those luscious locks as a gift for me for Christmas. For a week he told me he wanted to take me somewhere for Christmas. I thought it was perhaps a breakfast or a movie or something. It was very sweet and brought me to tears when he took me to his friend's salon and she cut his hair to the style I used to comb his hair as a child! Again, such joy in my career of motherhood. He is a helpful, kind soul and is loved by all who know him. He can crack a joke or make anyone smile, especially me. I am so blessed God gave me this son to mother.<br />
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Then my most challenging child is serving a mission. For 17 years I wasn't sure if this girl would graduate from high school, stay active in church, ever go to college and certainly I NEVER thought she would serve a mission. Her father gets credit for being consistent and calm with her through her most difficult times. I get credit for staying by her side, listening to her endless complaints and whining, and helping her fight through social injustices. But, a dear friend gets credit for encouraging and inspiring her to find out what she can do. Carly herself gets credit for doing that, for realizing she could be successful, for focusing in her senior year with straight A's, for doing well on her ACT, for getting into college and succeeding there and receiving a scholarship for her efforts. She gets credit for preparing to serve a mission and working hard to do that. With Asperger's her whole life centered on her and we perhaps enabled some of that, but through the efforts of many she was able to complete a year of college, and now has less than four months left of her mission. The most amazing blessing from this time of service is that without us telling her a hundred thousand times, she has come to realize she is not the center of the universe. She has realized others have needs and that she can help facilitate fulfillment of those needs. It has brought her joy. It has brought me some shock and great joy.<br />
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Why God allowed me to be a mother to these five amazing children is beyond me, but He did and I am so grateful. Through prayer, hard work, persistence and love I have found success and joy in motherhood. It is my career and my joy and I will be forever grateful.Dowd Crowd 2http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255071547612986937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1525640526691330024.post-34648745944624106302015-01-30T11:49:00.000-08:002015-01-30T11:49:23.108-08:00Sometimes Mothering HurtsI sometimes wonder if I have something wrong with me because I love my children so much and I want to do all I can to help them, but sometimes when they share their pains and frustrations I physically hurt as if it is all happening to me multiple times of intensity than they must be feeling. I wonder if it is just pain of not knowing how to help them, or transference of their pain, but I really don't like it, but I guess I like it better than not being there for them.Dowd Crowd 2http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255071547612986937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1525640526691330024.post-32030899064316525852015-01-14T10:20:00.001-08:002015-01-14T10:20:31.799-08:00Mothering by the SpiritI think that I often feel guilty for shortcomings, for failures and don't look at what I do that is right in terms of mothering. This week my kids needed me to help with their education plans. One of them dropped two classes to add a practicum. The practicum ended up having requirements that weren't there when her sister took it two years ago. This meant she needed to drop it. She had already given up her spot in the classes. She was able to add one class, but not the other. We looked through available class possibilities and came up with a couple options. These options would make her credit load acceptable for her financial aid, but wouldn't help her progress towards her degree. I prayed. As I prayed, a very clear thought came to me that she should email the teacher and see if he could make an exception to add her to an already full class. She wrote him, explained the circumstances, and he gave her approval to add the class!<br />
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Another child will need two classes to fulfill his associate's degree. He is taking the math prerequisite currently, but he got an incomplete in another class last year. He had not been able to make contact with the teacher and thought this grade would turn to an F and he would have to retake the class. As I prayed about it, I had the clear impression that he should email the department and explain to them. I helped him do this and he immediately got a response telling him she is teaching a class this semester and gave him instructions on where she was teaching so he could connect with her. It happens that it was one floor down from a class he has. He went down to meet her, talked with her and she said she will email him the rubric for the only assignment he is missing. Once he completes the paper, she will change his I to a grade!<br />
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Sometimes I feel like I am too involved in the education and lives of my children, but these two sweet inspirational experiences have brought me peace in two ways. One, it's ok that I am concerned and involved. Two, I need not feel guilt that may hinder such inspiration.Dowd Crowd 2http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255071547612986937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1525640526691330024.post-89154010380356224372012-01-25T07:42:00.000-08:002012-01-25T08:03:58.091-08:00Defensive MotheringPretty much from the time I can remember I wanted to be a Mom. Later in life the thought of marriage became more desirable, but even as a child I wanted to be a mom. I would like to think that I am a great mom, but I think that I am somewhat immature. For some reason I tend to be stuck at age 18 emotionally and sometimes I act that way.<br /><br />The main thought of my behavior that is bothering me today is that I take anything facing my children so personally and my immediate thought reaction, and sadly, yes, sometimes my behavioral reaction, is that of an 18 year old.<br /><br />When someone says or does something that offends one of my own, I get defensive. If someone brags about their child or shares some truly great noteworthy accomplishment, I tend to be more jealous than happy for their child. I will think things like, "My kid could do that." "Well, if given the same opportunity, my kid would whoop your kid." Sheez! What an immature approach to sharing parental joys.<br /><br />It's been one year almost since Richie left for his mission, and this experience has been so helpful for me. I share Richie's letters with family and friends and the parents of Richie's high school friends who are also serving. Likewise they share their letters with me. For the first time in my parenting career, I am feeling great joy in the successes of other people's children and not having the immature, jealous feelings I usually have. When one of his friends has a baptism I rejoice! When they share an experience that shows the strength of their testimony or the fruits of their labors, I am as happy as if it had been one of my own children sharing that experience. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisWLATlxqooVoIBrYGWFpfxcLig_Tjf7altV3iMmngzmL-qNLNI2jurmLNi9a_htHjSYdDnlOgrgWWiSYXv6GSTjIPfiaaLdTyGdhis7XQDC_whop8JV_seL7J5eM4zmiTSISH5YcGCbc/s1600/DSC_0417.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisWLATlxqooVoIBrYGWFpfxcLig_Tjf7altV3iMmngzmL-qNLNI2jurmLNi9a_htHjSYdDnlOgrgWWiSYXv6GSTjIPfiaaLdTyGdhis7XQDC_whop8JV_seL7J5eM4zmiTSISH5YcGCbc/s320/DSC_0417.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701599106507347954" /></a><br /><em>Some of Richie's High School friends who are now out serving missions</em><br /><br />I would like to say that I have adapted this same mature attitude with all of my parenting opportunities, but alas, last night one of my sweet daughter's was hurt by her friends and instead of taking a mature attitude about it I seriously wanted to call them or show up on their doorstep and yell and scream and rant and rave and possibly trip and accidentally punch them in the face on my way down! <br /><br />Oh well, one step at a time!Dowd Crowd 2http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255071547612986937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1525640526691330024.post-53577281971008164842012-01-17T10:48:00.000-08:002012-01-17T10:54:52.625-08:00Missing my MomWell, it's almost three years now that my mom passed away. When times have been tough in my life I would call my mom. I can't do that anymore and sometimes I feel so helpless and wish I could just call my mom or go see her and have her hold me. I was feeling that way today. For some reason I looked at one of my extended family websites and saw this picture of my mom holding me when I was two months old and for some reason it brought me comfort knowing my mom would always hold me when I needed it and for a few short moments I felt Mom holding me again.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgT9ZG7o1XYHaGW-z6OqOBRyJeV0A49bLeWXpR_P8acUjyU7uBkTRcJnjgqlhKu6EdnWyr77Tq7pDHp8kgCnxBui78BCnWRhsfsEgKZzNyJ0yl1-0SQtRXDCDlURbcYO4GYFhDEYfJdyk/s1600/Me+as+a+baby+with+Mom%252C+Fredi%252C+Rick.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 224px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgT9ZG7o1XYHaGW-z6OqOBRyJeV0A49bLeWXpR_P8acUjyU7uBkTRcJnjgqlhKu6EdnWyr77Tq7pDHp8kgCnxBui78BCnWRhsfsEgKZzNyJ0yl1-0SQtRXDCDlURbcYO4GYFhDEYfJdyk/s320/Me+as+a+baby+with+Mom%252C+Fredi%252C+Rick.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698675523632068818" /></a><br />Picture from May of 1957 of my sister Fredi, brother Rick, Mom and baby me!Dowd Crowd 2http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255071547612986937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1525640526691330024.post-46294421306886801462011-05-22T13:57:00.000-07:002011-05-22T14:02:53.121-07:00Message from HeavenYesterday we went to SLC to help Grandpa Turley. When we got to his old condo which he is trying to move out of, there was an envelope that had my name on it. I was alone in the condo, so I opened it and read it. I cried. Of course this is a message written by my mom in Spring of 1963, but to me it was a message from heaven.<br /><br />I love it!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIFVQ-LbqNWkjIbtdMWd2CjmpqiCgfkOWtfd3YSorZQ_edZL89SSpMwv2PVLF8mbDpBSauLqUk4AstaIgqhtmBYpEgdv6uV9QmoGuX2GCFDVevHgmgOH1lbU1ah4sag35otwEgPOsvQ8A/s1600/Picture.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIFVQ-LbqNWkjIbtdMWd2CjmpqiCgfkOWtfd3YSorZQ_edZL89SSpMwv2PVLF8mbDpBSauLqUk4AstaIgqhtmBYpEgdv6uV9QmoGuX2GCFDVevHgmgOH1lbU1ah4sag35otwEgPOsvQ8A/s320/Picture.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609648041674521154" /></a><br /><br />Side note: I was called Stevie or Steve until I was about 18 and insisted on being called Stephanie. Also, I went to Kindergarten in Draper, UT at Draper Elementary. In 1963 Kindergarten was a summer program, thus the mention of kids being out of school and me about to start school. My mom was in Missouri with my Nickle grandparents. Now, she is with them in heaven, and I am grateful that I was helping my Daddy when I read the heavenly prose!Dowd Crowd 2http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255071547612986937noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1525640526691330024.post-64126209185338717562011-04-12T07:32:00.000-07:002011-04-12T07:43:02.318-07:00I am a Daffodil<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_bPmSy5WpZ9lznIdcaCkOgW3DpzA5dHpOhT0N7tfiOjncnKzTxDruaTv0BTF1kvX36fSrOE1KlfQq5lwst4aBPyAOB14f52hfNl1jMBx-yw0liVUjpABwm5vIgqTmkIirEj-62JHRx7U/s1600/daffodil.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_bPmSy5WpZ9lznIdcaCkOgW3DpzA5dHpOhT0N7tfiOjncnKzTxDruaTv0BTF1kvX36fSrOE1KlfQq5lwst4aBPyAOB14f52hfNl1jMBx-yw0liVUjpABwm5vIgqTmkIirEj-62JHRx7U/s400/daffodil.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594707366557785106" /></a>Friday I was feeling very burdened by troubles and fears. It's been a rough year financially, and I allowed it to all come down on me. I kept crying, and feeling hopeless. It was a snowy, cold day.<br /><br />When I came home from work, my head down, my heart aching, I looked over to our little flower garden. The tulips have yet to bloom, but all the way to the left were the daffodils which had already bloomed. They looked like how I felt, downtroden, affected by the elements, and ready to give it up.<br /><br />Sunday, when I came home from church, there had been a little bit of sunshine, some light in the dark and dreariness. As I walked up the steps to enter our home, my eyes once again looked to the left to the daffodils. They had responded to the little bit of light and their heads were upward and they looked like they might just make it!<br /><br />I thought about how I went to church amidst my sadness and fear and felt the light of the gospel shared through others testimonies, my wonderful youth Sunday School class, and the Relief Society lesson. I, like the daffodils, had responded to light, my head held higher, feeling hope that I too will make it!Dowd Crowd 2http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255071547612986937noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1525640526691330024.post-83946538198506806242010-03-02T12:35:00.000-08:002010-03-02T12:59:32.867-08:00Fun Time with Mom<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitIyQWmXUrgyyFGT4cU6J-iUfCvVy2J0jprlwf85v05giF9JuWTfJI9USnpzrf73rACKVPad44mZeh0BgxedJDDASyU6uYrMWlyxubMhoy2Wcoxc5inCPwnR8c00EBkzhPiKJ58BrOBsQ/s1600-h/Martha+and+Mom.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444143766227123522" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 128px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 158px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitIyQWmXUrgyyFGT4cU6J-iUfCvVy2J0jprlwf85v05giF9JuWTfJI9USnpzrf73rACKVPad44mZeh0BgxedJDDASyU6uYrMWlyxubMhoy2Wcoxc5inCPwnR8c00EBkzhPiKJ58BrOBsQ/s400/Martha+and+Mom.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>On Sunday I wanted to cook some kale that I received from Bountiful Baskets, a local produce co-op, so I got my Martha Stewart recipe book as I was sure Martha had a good recipe for kale. Once I picked up the book, I noticed little pieces of paper marking certain pages of recipes. I smiled as I remembered my mother borrowing the book (she loved to read recipe books) and marking recipes that she thought she would like to try.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Now, this was probably about two years ago she borrowed the book. She was already unable to stand and cook at that point, so it's almost funny that she marked these recipes. But, maybe she knew something I did not when she marked them. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>As I looked through each marked page I had a very enjoyable time trying to choose which recipe on the page she was interested in. I spent a good 15 minutes or so smiling, even laughing, as I reviewed the recipes on the pages and knew EXACTLY which one she would have wanted to make or eat.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Later in the day Rochelle came in my room and I showed her the book. She and I smiled as she went through the pages and chose the exact recipe I believed Mom wanted! </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Then that evening we showed Blair the book and he too knew the recipe that Mom would have wanted to eat.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I want to leave these little papers in the book forever. When I need to be close to my mom I will open the book and smile believing she left these little pieces of her in my book for me!</div>Dowd Crowd 2http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255071547612986937noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1525640526691330024.post-1479536289720638242009-09-15T09:00:00.000-07:002009-09-15T10:12:05.017-07:00Simba, the Geriatric Goldfish<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq8HUXbcDeKw4xRS1zS9KpxGWrwJVgv05xs7JDVR3xdXd0J1uCpmsQbCbwSmREe0J7Y9t4fUSKf60Of9TrUOG0wmp5t4X7tT8tT90h0WM1ZTh0bEt-yqhPDJeSMMCdDX8G5dzyo3jz0wU/s1600-h/Goldfish.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381741177082155282" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 137px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 103px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq8HUXbcDeKw4xRS1zS9KpxGWrwJVgv05xs7JDVR3xdXd0J1uCpmsQbCbwSmREe0J7Y9t4fUSKf60Of9TrUOG0wmp5t4X7tT8tT90h0WM1ZTh0bEt-yqhPDJeSMMCdDX8G5dzyo3jz0wU/s400/Goldfish.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>In the past 15 years we have had the occasional pleasure (ha ha) of being the proud owners of goldfish. I have never gone out of my way to afford my children the opportunity of being goldfish masters, however, local carnivals, and whimsical moments have allowed them that blessing.</div><br /><div>Every fish that I have had in my home, both growing up and since marrying has not lived much longer than a week (I think). Most have left this earthly existence in a creative, though not intentional, manner. For instance, my dad was walking across the living room one day and touched the fish bowl. The electricity created from his shoes rubbing against the carpet created a shock when his hand touched the fish bowl that was sufficient to electricute the fish. </div><br /><div>My next experience was over eating. One fish was given so much food and obviously needed a lap band surgery as it overate and promptly passed away in a swollen state, I think its intestines exploded.</div><br /><div>My favorite experience, however, was when my sweet son was home sick and I thought he could be left alone in the house for about ten minutes. He thought the fish water was cold and thought he would warm it by putting the fish bowl, including the fish, in the microwave. I had this impression I needed to get home as soon as I arrived where I was going, so I promptly turned around and came home. I asked him if he was ok. He said tearily, "Mom, Fred is dead." My sister's name is Fredi, but I knew he was talking about the goldfish that Rochelle brought home from the Conejo Valley Days carnival. I felt sad for him, so I hugged him. He proceded to explain to me that he put him in the microwave for just a few seconds. I looked over, still hugging my son, and saw that Fred was actually folded in half from the experience. I started laughing so hard, but I did not want him to see me, so I held him tight. He thought I was crying from grief at the loss of this little creature, so he started crying. We held each other as I held in roaring laughter and he cried, thinking I was sobbing. I wasn't sure how to break the news to Rochelle, but as I arrived at school that day, I told her, "I am so sorry honey, but Fred is dead." "What?!" she replied? I repeated, "Fred is dead." She asked how and I had the painful experience of telling her that her brother put him in the microwave. She was angry, for a moment. Then she said, "Oh well, I guess we are having fish soup for dinner!"</div><br /><div>About two weeks ago, a girl with dark curly hair was caught running away from our front porch. On the porch was a ziplock bag with water and a goldfish. The orange sticky note said, "Richie, my name is Simba, treat me well." Richie came up, looking perplexed and asked, "What do I do with this?" I told him that we have a history of fish not lasting much longer than a day or so. He offered to go ahead and flush it down the toilet, but that could be construed by PETA as cold blooded murder, so I told him to get the big glass bowl out of the cupboard and create a makeshift fish bowl. He did this, we added some distilled water we use for our steam mop and iron, then put Simba into the bowl. It was Saturday I believe, and we observe the Sabbath, so unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, no fish food was purchased. Richie got some marbles and put them in the bottom of the bowl and we expected that Simba might enter paradise during the night.</div><br /><div>News for goldfish owners, believe it or not, Simba has lived for almost two weeks in our home. I am shocked and amazed. I couldn't understand how this fish could survive without food, UNTIL, my children informed me that they have been feeding the fish, of all things, CHEERIOS...yes, it's true, Simba has been surviving on Cheerios. It is whole grain, and not a lot of sugar, and I hear it is good for your heart, so I think I will have to switch my diet to Cheerios to see if I can outlive my life expectancy!</div>Dowd Crowd 2http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255071547612986937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1525640526691330024.post-61865827449303125692009-07-02T06:34:00.000-07:002009-07-02T07:26:24.328-07:00Life and Death<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEiccJuvY3s-yYzB-8uBV5gpCZW03XdQ2suVRreRWMuXQ8ZYx2OnIKOcm0BRxU30YjbCkszU1_QTZAKg7oQJZcVIt1r4W2layt-H-Rg63pd1DMJ8r9WWS1xBBuC5R_kkaKc8Y7XjuVolg/s1600-h/IMG_0154.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353868212765258338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEiccJuvY3s-yYzB-8uBV5gpCZW03XdQ2suVRreRWMuXQ8ZYx2OnIKOcm0BRxU30YjbCkszU1_QTZAKg7oQJZcVIt1r4W2layt-H-Rg63pd1DMJ8r9WWS1xBBuC5R_kkaKc8Y7XjuVolg/s400/IMG_0154.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Life is good right now. Blair and I are employed. Rochelle is in Mexico learning and growing. Richie is growing up and learning that responsibility takes time and is hard, but you can't play forever. Nickie is getting more and more beautiful each day. Maddie is growing taller and working hard on bball. Carly is 1/3 of the way through the summer and getting ready for burn camp.<br /><br />My mother passed away on June 2, one month ago. The whole experience has been fascinating to me. That may seem odd to some, but it is really my first experience in such a personal passing. I love my mother. She was my closest confidant. She was always there. She listened, she advised, she encouraged. I called her almost every day. If I didn't she wondered what was going on in my life. I loved to talk to her. I miss that, but now I call my dad.<br /><br />My mom was sick for years. She endured it well. I could tell from each phone call how her day was. She wanted to die several times. Last summer she nearly left us. It appeared she stroked and then stroked again. She was in a neuro ICU. We were told by the neurologist that she was sorry but there was nothing more to do. I went in and held her hand and prayed to Heavenly Father to take her. I told him she would not want to live without her ability to communicate her bubbly personality that cheered and built many lives. I learned much that early morning last summer when I heard so clearly, "There are more lives involved here than hers." A few hours when I went back into her room she said, "Stephanie." If she had stroked, she had been miraculously saved. No medical person has been able to explain to us what happened. They don't need to. I know. There are more lives involved here than hers.<br /><br />So, about a month ago I wrote Blair an email and told him I think she is going to pass on very soon. He told me to go visit her. So, I did. I spent Friday, May 22nd in the evening with her. I told my sister Fredi on Sunday, May 24 how I felt. She said she wished she had gone to see her, so I said, "Let's go." So we went and spent Sunday evening with her. Then on Memorial Day, May 25, 2009 Blair and our kids went to take Dad and her a Memorial Day BBQ and spend time with them. We ate and talked, my kids visited with her. I rubbed her feet and tried to rub her shoulders knowing in my heart that this could be the last time.<br /><br />That Thursday evening she could not take the pain any longer and had Dad take her to LDS Hospital. I got a call early Friday morning that she had gone in and they were checking her out. It turns out that she had a blocked intestine, and I am guessing from her not wanting to eat for a week or more that this had been going on for sometime. They gave her some treatments including a tube down her throat then after a day gave her three options - we can do invasive treatments, we can operate, or we can put you on hospice with a morphine drip and let you pass away pain free. They advised that all three would likely end the same, with death. She chose hospice and Dad concurred. This was the end.<br /><br />I went to the hospital early Saturday morning and spent the day. I took Rochelle, Nickie and Maddie. We held her hand, the girls sang to her. They started with "A Child's Prayer" which says,<br /><br />"Heavenly Father, are you really there? And do you hear and answer ev’ry child’s prayer? Some say that heaven is far away, But I feel it close around me as I pray. Heavenly Father, I remember now something that Jesus told disciples long ago: “Suffer the children to come to me.”Father, in prayer I’m coming now to thee.<br /><br />Pray, he is there; Speak, he is list’ning. You are his child; His love now surrounds you. He hears your prayer; He loves the children. Of such is the kingdom, the kingdom of heav’n."<br /><br />The thought of Him being near and suffering the children to come to Him made my girls realize He is there and their Grandma would be going to be with Him again. They cried and smiled and cried.<br /><br />They sang some more and then...she asked the tough one, "Sing 'God Be With You 'Til We Meet Again." They sang and cried and Grandma smiled.<br /><br />We went home, then Sunday morning, May 31, Nicole and I went up to spend the day with Grandma. Dad and I went to Sacrament Meeting at the hospital. That was nice to partake of the sacrament and remember the covenants I made at baptism and think of my mother and her great committment to the keeping the covenants and honoring the Lord.<br /><br />Nickie and I ended up staying from early Sunday until early evening on Monday. This was some of the sweetest moments of my life to be able to nurture my Mother to death. I know that sounds weird, but it was a lovely time. The morphine drip was put in on Saturday afternoon. My mom was giving up the pain that ruled her life for so many years. Many came to visit. Blair brought our children and his brother Brian after church. They sang and almost all the family came and we had a family prayer at my request, so Dad asked me to give it. I wasn't sure I could, but I did and it was good. What a marvelous family we have. What a great posterity Mother left.<br /><br />That evening Nickie and I stayed with Mom. She slept on the cot for the first four hours and I sat in the chair by Mom. I held her hand and stroked her forehead and just loved her. Then Nickie woke up and traded me places for a couple hours. Mom was resting peacefully. She wanted to go home to die, I wanted her to die in the hospital so that I wouldn't have to think of her dying at home.<br /><br />Monday came and around 4:00 in the afternoon we took my sweet mother from the hospital to her home. I rode with the transport team and mom in the hospital. It was odd, but then again not, to be in a shell of an ambulance. I guess all normal ambulances are meant to save lives and they need a lot of equipment. A hospice transport just needs a lock for the gurney. As soon as we got to their condo and opened the back of the ambulance, the sweetest feeling came over me. I knew it was right to bring Mom home to graduate to the next life. It was a beautiful day and I knew this was her last time to be in the fresh air. It was a lovely moment.<br /><br />We took her in and lifted her and put her in her chair. Hospice came and made sure her morphine drip was working. They left and here was my sweet mother in her favorite spot - the recliner chair that had been her home for such a long time. I knew this was where she would complete her mortal life. We stayed and visited for a bit, then Nickie and I came home.<br /><br />I wanted to be with my mom when she passed away. I am not sure why, whether it was because you read in obituaries about someone passing surrounded by their loved ones. But, I had a family at home that needed me to come home and I had a doctor's appointment on Tuesday, so I came home. I called a couple times that night.<br /><br />Tuesday, June 2, 2009 I went to work at 7 am. I left work for the doctor's at 9:00. It was not a fun visit, some things weren't right. I told him to give me some time as my mother was dying. I came back to work and called dad around 10:30. He told me to listen to mom's breathing. It was the death breathing I have heard about. Nineteen minutes later my wonderful mother left her mortal life and returned to her Father in Heaven. My dad's wish was to feel her last heartbeat. He put his hand on her chest and felt a breath and a heart beat, then nothing. His wish was realized and I am sure so was my mom's.<br /><br />My brother Rick called and told me. I was choked up for a minute, but did not cry. I left work and went to see Mom before the mortuary came to take her. As I walked in and saw her there on that chair I thought I would cry, but I was joyous to see the pain gone and to know her spirit was free from years of pain. I have been happy and have not yet cried for I know without any doubt that there is a life after this life, that we have a purpose in this world and that it is a mortal probation. I know that because of the atonement of Jesus Christ that we will live again and that life is eternal and will go on. I know my mother is in a better place, paradise, as she awaits the events of eternity that are yet to come. I know, so I am at peace.</div>Dowd Crowd 2http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255071547612986937noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1525640526691330024.post-58646166112716820722008-12-03T07:17:00.000-08:002008-12-03T07:31:16.193-08:00Finally Getting Into Blogging<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo9cg0BZP1vDypz120vlvlFZmQ6qOTiEtTM8X1hlfGxjztg9xoqIdbO-UkD_2DxMWDkdyAm58gGWinuEUvzWJWQ-BhaRMNRy1YGGygBLerbvDdxiddvlQNPpK0BXbI5qBPWOewsf1mNF0/s1600-h/Dowd+Family+175.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275585043770624770" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo9cg0BZP1vDypz120vlvlFZmQ6qOTiEtTM8X1hlfGxjztg9xoqIdbO-UkD_2DxMWDkdyAm58gGWinuEUvzWJWQ-BhaRMNRy1YGGygBLerbvDdxiddvlQNPpK0BXbI5qBPWOewsf1mNF0/s320/Dowd+Family+175.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>Well, so many of my friends and family have blog pages, so since I enjoy seeing theirs and have been asked to make one, I am finally getting into it!</div><div></div><div></div>Dowd Crowd 2http://www.blogger.com/profile/08255071547612986937noreply@blogger.com1