This week has been a little slower paced with some head colds in the family. Cooper and I are about the last ones (I hope...). Mark had a long day at work yesterday but came home in a subdued mood. He had just been on the phone for a long time with one of his business acquaintances who I met as we were checking out of Primary Children's after Cooper's last surgery. They were there with their daughter who had a double cleft palate. This daughter also had hips that never connected well and heart problems and others. She had been in the hospital for four months, and when the doctors tried a procedure to help her esophagus deal with some bad acid reflux, she had a cardiac arrest that left her partially brain damaged. Now she is home, but the doctors have said she probably has about 8 months to live. After a long day, it is so wonderful for us to look around at our boisterous, loud, whole and healthy children.
I've been reading the book Glimpses about Marjorie Pay Hinckley. I've always identified her with my own grandmother (also named Marjorie) who, although a tough-as-nails Montana tomboy, also had that fabulous gift of having everyone under her spell, telling her all their problems and feeling like they were the best, most important person in the world to her. I definitely do not have that talent, yet! Hopefully I can practice being more sweetmouthed and generous with my praises. I also need to be a better listener. I love a story in the book about Sis. Hinckley's daughter-in-law. She and the Hinckley's son were living out of town for a time, and they received a call from Pres. and Sis. Hinckley every Sunday night to check on them and share their love. Then, every Monday morning, when the men were safely tucked away in their offices, Sis. Hinckley would call her daughter-in-law again. "All right now, let's have some girl talk. So how are you really?" They became very close through those Monday morning phone calls.
My grandma heard lots of problems and secrets I don't think my parents ever caught wind of. My panic attack after my first solo drive when I couldn't remember which side of the road I was supposed to be on. (Hey, it's not so easy to remember when there aren't any other cars!!) My first big crush. My frustration at being a pre-teen girl placed in the Blazer's (for boys 10-12) primary class in our branch. There were only two students and they had asked my grandma to teach it. She actually refused this calling, I think because I was so upset. The name of my first child, whispered, the last time I saw her when I was 9 mos pregnant. No one else in the family knew.
I wonder what kind of tabs she keeps on me now. Anyway, I've definitely had lots of good examples to learn from, so there is no reason I can't change for the better.