Monday, April 6, 2015

Why We Love Mondays Around Here

Monday mornings are always chaotic, and everyone drags their feet to practice, dress, eat, clean, then get out the door.

One thing we love more than anything else is emails that come every Monday morning, sometime between 9:30-11 am. That's when we hear from Elder Denton down in South America.

So . . . something we try to make time for every Monday morning is writing emails to Ben. Lily uses her cell phone. Brad tries to write on Sunday night before bed, but if he forgets, he holes up in his office. The three little kids take turns on my computer. Hyrum dictates to me--quite reluctantly. I have to prompt and pull and beg for a few sentences about his week. Micah is always the most excited to write. He rereads his letter from the week before and continues the conversation. They talk about books and sports and boy stuff. Eve has always told me what to write, but this morning, she insisted that she type her own letter. She was already dressed with her hair done, so I allowed her to hunt and pick for a while.

Here is what she wrote after I typed the salutation:

Dear Ben,
we wr  at the kabiin we  wr  playing  gams  with  my  mom  and   my  bothers  we  wr  
playing  srry  that  is  the  game  we  playd   at  the  cabin  we  eat  gril chees  that  is  with (now it’s mom) bread and cheese. 

I love you!



She was not happy that school was beckoning and that I needed to help her finish. Can you figure out what she said?

Then, after the house is peaceful and quiet, I curl up in a chair and write to my son. I cherish those moments on the computer every week in a way that can't be adequately described. Just a few quiet moments with my thoughts and my heart.

Here is a bit of what I wrote him this week: 

Other than that, it’s been a good week. I felt like Conference was prepared just for me this time. I don’t remember a time when I listened and almost every single talk was written with me in mind. It was fabulous. Instead of taking notes on what the speakers actually said, I tried a different approach this time. I wrote what impressions I felt and what I thought about what they said, and sometimes I wrote what they actually said. It changed how I listened. I want to incorporate Elder Anderson’s talk about learning the dance steps and hearing the music the most here at home. I feel some big changes coming here at the Sanatorium! Hope I can maintain that momentum until October when they speak again.

Love you so much. So happy you’re where you are. So happy you’re learning and growing. Take care of yourself—spiritually, physically, and emotionally.

Ah, missionaries and their families. It's such a hard, great, awesome, difficult, singular experience.

Love that boy of mine!
If you would like to read about Ben's mission adventures, his latest letter is posted here.


  1. He punched a dog and felt tough?

    1. Many of the dogs in Peru are feral and travel in packs. They follow and attack pedestrians all of the time. Ben is a passionate dog lover, and I know that he would never do this for sport or for any other reason than to protect himself. If you read his letter the previous week, he and his companion have "adopted" one of the local strays that is really friendly.

      Third world countries have different perspectives of animals--why the locals "laughed." They think his fear of the dogs is ridiculous and don't care about them, but he's been attacked and chased on more than one occasion. He is currently serving in one of the poorest areas of Lima--a suburb called Villa El Salvador. Most homes have dirt floors and dirt walls with tarps or sheets for a roof. From what he has told me, many of the animals are vicious and completely wild, unlike anything he's ever seen here in the States. Hope that clears up your question.

  2. What an experience your second son is having!
    I remember the feral dogs in Peru and Chile. There were packs of them, all sizes and varieties of mongrels. It was quite intimidating. Even walking into a public building sometimes required getting past a pack lying in the shade if the building entrance.