Ward Family

2020 marks the twentieth year we've lived in our ward, and recently I've become highly aware of how lucky I am to live here, surrounded by people who love us, know us, and constantly serve us. They are genuinely good people who make me laugh and share my tears. I am incredibly blessed to live here.

My friend's daughter (in the middle) was leaving for her mission to Spain, and all the men lined up according to height. See the Denton men on the shorter side of the picture? Micah is almost six feet tall and still didn't hit the halfway mark. Lined up all the way from Hyrum at 5'3" to our former U of A football player friend at 6'8".

Eve, Not a Baby Any More

I like to picture my Evie as a baby with blond fuzzy head and long dark lashes. My baby.

She isn't a baby any more. She's growing up into an incredible tween.
She loves organization (like her mama) and created her own "planner station" (also like her mama).
She practices the piano and often transposes entire pieces into new keys. She even changed her Christmas song, "Angels We Have Heard on High," into a minor key.
She LOVES school and her teacher. She stresses about good grades and doing her best, qualities I love but have to temper with "It doesn't have to be perfect" pep talks.
She and her best friend, Claire, created "Claire and Eve's," a pretend restaurant where they answer reservation phone calls, drew up menus, and serve customers (sometimes pretend, sometimes real) food. I love that they still do this.

She's working on a roundoff, back handspring, back tuck and tumbling, and she's recently discovered the joy of basketball.

She may not be very tall (here she is next to the tallest girl on the team who is actually almost two years older than she is), but she is feisty.

And intense. That girl can play D at the top of the key.

In her first game, she stole the ball and went down court for a layup. It was fun to watch!

She's at the cusp of teenagerdom, having "The Talk" at school and learning to wash her face daily to avoid too many pimples. I can't wait to see where her interests take her and where she decides to focus all of her energy.

But she will always remain my bald baby with the huge green eyes and show-stopping eyelashes.

Hyrum, the Boy/Teen

Hyrum. My baby boy. He's growing up and almost a teenager now.

He's invested in his Rubik's cube, spending hours watching Youtube videos and talking to friends about solutions.

He's almost there.

He and his buddy Landon worked together on their science fair project, and they did a great job. I was pretty proud of them, because this was a student-led, student-completed project. I only gave them a few suggestions and cut out a few pictures. They did the rest.

Can you spot the mistake??

Luckily we caught it before he turned it in! It's hard when you're gluing letters on upside down and said letters look like different letters from that perspective!

He's also playing his first year of rugby.

I'm still fuzzy on all the rules, but it's fun to watch. He plays wing, and even though their team is experiencing what is kindly called "a building year," he's learning a lot about the game and scoring a few tries every game or so.

When I take the time to really look at him, I am amazed at how he's lengthening up, thinning out, and getting broader.

My last baby boy. When did he get so big? I miss the bald baby he used to be.

Sugar Rush

TV choices reflect real life around here. Eve's favorite show is Sugar Rush, and that influences how she wants to spend her time.

Baking cakes

Or cupcakes

Their favorite part is filling the piping bags and frosting their creations.

Hyrum has loved baking for a few years and can frequently be found in the kitchen concocting something delicious.

Since Tucker's family lives so close, Eli and Annie (and even Caroline) are frequent assistants. Sometimes, Hyrum will text Karli and ask if her kids can come help him make cookies.

I don't know where they got this love for baking, because they surely didn't inherit it from me!

Not that I'm complaining . . . 

This Is All of Us

Recognize this picture? This used to be my blog header. 

The original Dentons and our first in-law.

Now look at us.


All 22 of us.

I had big plans for a great family picture just before Thanksgiving dinner this year, but I forgot to charge my camera battery, and we only got a few mediocre shots.

But look at all these people that I love.

I'm so blessed in my life. That's the truth. Can you identify everyone from their Memoji?


Look out, 2020. Here comes everyone from the Denton Sanatorium!

A Little Sightseeing

I spent all of last week in Richmond, VA, researching my master's thesis. While I did spend eight hours a day deep in the Library of Virginia's belly, I was able to carve out a few hours Sunday afternoon and an hour Saturday afternoon before my flight adventure I talked about yesterday.

I spent over an hour wandering through the Hollywood Cemetery. My mom instilled in me a love of cemeteries, and as I wander around, I wonder what stories the stones hide. Each was someone loved. Each was part of a family. Each has a story.

Guess that's why I'm a historian . . .

Jefferson Davis, only president of the Confederate States, is buried here. Look how beautiful this location is--overlooking the James River.

It was so beautiful that day. Look at that sky.

An entire section of the cemetery is dedicated to Civil War soldiers--18,000 of them in this cemetery alone. Much of the Civil War's fighting took place in Virginia, and the state experienced battle of some kind virtually every day for four years. It sobers me every time I think about it (and that's been much of the time lately, since my thesis centers around poetry published in Richmond's papers during the war).

If you ignore the slavery issue (and I know that's a pretty big elephant in the room), the Civil War was much more complicated and less clear cut than most Americans realize. And whether your family was blue or gray, your men still bled red and died far from home. Almost 700,000 of them, depending on which statistic you use. Think of the impact on society. On families. On politics. On the workforce. And for a few generations after as well. It boggles me.

I didn't understand the dates on this flag at first, but then I realized these flags posted on Confederate graves record the two dates Virginia "seceded"--the first from England, and the second from the US. I hadn't ever put the two dates as mirror images of each other. Southern mindset is so different from what I have always known, and I'm loving the opportunity my research affords me to learn more about it.

On Saturday, I wandered the Tredegar ironworks factory turned Civil War museum.

It has incredible artifacts that I've dreamed of seeing for much of my life, like this Sherman screw. From a distance, I thought it was a piece of machinery, but up close I realized it is a railroad rail. Sherman's troops would heat them until they were pliable, then wrap them around trees or posts so the South couldn't rebuild their railroads when the Union army left the area.

The museum must have the biggest (if not the biggest, then the most important pieces) collection of Robert E. Lee memorabilia anywhere. He probably rode Traveler to Appomattox Courthouse sitting on this saddle.

It's always surreal for me to walk where these figures of history walked. To sit where they sat. To ponder what momentous days and acts transpired on the spot where I now stand.

While I don't anticipate returning to Richmond (and there were many more sights to see, unfortunately), I left overwhelmed by the history of it all.

There is so much to see in this world. I'll never see everything I want to see . . . 

Maybe the Biggest Small Miracle of All

I spent most of my trip to Virginia in the library researching my master's thesis. By Saturday, not only was I ready to escape the academic cloister, but I was ready to be home.

I arrived at the airport earlier than necessary, turned in my rental car, checked my bag, then ate a late, leisurely lunch.

It was still 90 minutes from my scheduled departure when I got to the gate, happy to know that nine hours from that moment, I would be home.

I was wrong.

I updated my email and saw a notification from Delta that they were rebooking my flight.

What?

I knew there was a severe weather system in the South (I was connecting through Atlanta), but I didn't think much more about it. The gate agent informed me that our departure from Richmond would be delayed about an hour to allow the storm to pass over and not strand our plane in the air. I asked about my connecting flight, and we agreed that since my landing would be delayed, takeoff of my flight to Phoenix would certainly also be delayed. Although most people on my Richmond flight opted for other routes that night, I decided to stay with my original plan, since I was already booked on the final flight to Phoenix that night anyway.

It got later and later, and we finally boarded the plane about an hour later than scheduled. The pilot informed us that he would take a circuitous route to Atlanta, west over West Virginia then south over Nashville before approaching Atlanta from the west instead of the usual north. I relaxed into my completely empty row with Better Homes and Gardens, and I watched Richmond disappear below the clouds.

Ninety minutes into the flight, I asked a flight attendant to compare our arrival time and gate with my departure time and gate. Atlanta's airport is huge, and I knew a few factors had to line up for me to make my flight. We were scheduled to land at 7:55 pm at gate B7, and my outgoing flight was delayed to 8:24 at gate B24, so in theory, I could make it if I hurried.

And then

It was 8 pm and the pilot still hadn't announced descent protocol.

That's when I realized I wouldn't make my flight.

When we touched down at 8:10, I hurriedly checked my Delta app. It said the flight was boarding. I was going to be stuck in Atlanta, and I knew it.

I wanted to be HOME. I was done with traveling and the whole mess, but this was going to be fine. I guess.

I refreshed my app at 8:15 and it still said they were boarding. And we were getting closer to the gate. I said a quick prayer. "Heavenly Father, I want to be home. I want to go to church tomorrow with my family. I want to see my kids and be the mom. If you delay that flight another 20 minutes, I can make it. Please."

Ten seconds later, when I refreshed my Delta app, the screen indicated that the flight was still boarding, but the departure time changed--to 8:36. I had been gifted fifteen minutes. "Ok, God. I'll make fifteen minutes work. Thank you."

I was the first person off the plane, sprinting towards the door, when the gate agent chastised me and warned me I'd set off an alarm if I went through the door before her. "Please hurry! My flight is boarding and leaving in five minutes!" She rolled her eyes and said, "If it's leaving in five, they've already given away your seat." And she continued to saunter up the jetway.

I ignored her, pushing my way through the gaggle of people waiting in the concourse. I ran as fast as I could for as far as I could, repeating over and over under my breath, "Please. Please. Please. Please. Please" until I no longer had breath and had to slow to a brisk walk. People stared and parted to let the crazed lady in the brown hat through. I refreshed the app at my walking pace and it indicated the flight was still boarding.

Was this going to happen? Was I going to make it home tonight?

When the waiting area at B24 came into my view, it was empty. Not a soul but the gate agent.

But the door was still open to the jetway.

I ran the last few yards, plopped panting self in front of her, and asked if the door to the plane was closed yet.

"I already surrendered your seat. You're late."

I begged and begged as I gulped air and the last few breaths of hope.

A few clicks on her computer, a quick scan of my phone

and I was on the plane.

I made it.

I paused at the entrance to the plane, panting and happy. I made it.

I made it onto the plane, but my bag didn't. I didn't even care.

And after all that excitement, I landed in Phoenix only an hour later than scheduled.

Fifteen minutes--the biggest small miracle of all. God is mindful of us. Sometimes it all falls into place and we get the minutes we need to get home.

Research Miracle in Richmond

As I approach the finish line for my master's, I'm spending less time in class and more time buried in books and documents--a place I frankly love to be. When I narrowed my topic to poetry published in Richmond's Civil War newspapers, I knew I would need to spend a sizable chunk of time in Virginia.

And I was excited. Richmond, VA--here I come!

A week in the South? Yes!

Six days in a row in the gorgeous Library of Virginia? Yes!

 Eight hours every day to dive into microfilm and original documents? Yes!

It was hard. Much harder than I ever anticipated. In fact, after one day of researching, the sheer magnitude of my project swamped me. I wasn't finding what I needed--teeny, tiny needles in enormous haystacks--and sifting through it all was taking much, much longer than I had initially predicted. After one full day in the library, I had finished less than half of one newspaper--and I needed to look at . . . seventeen. How was I going to do this?

I called Brad in tears. Was this project even realistic? Could any single human do what I'd set my sights on? As much as I'd looked forward to this trip, I wasn't loving it. I didn't have time to see much of the historical city since the library was only open 9-5 and the sun sets around 5 in the winter.  I was discouraged.

But he gave me some great advice--go to sleep and things will look better in the morning.

So I took a shower then pulled out my scriptures to read before bed. I happened to be in 1 Nephi 3, since I'm following the Come, Follow Me assignments, and as I read the most famous of Nephi's words in verse 7, something new hit me. And hit me hard. "the Lord giveth no commandments . . . save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing that he commandeth them."

Wow. I wrote in the margin of my book, "Please prepare a way for me to accomplish my research." I articulated this same desire in my prayer, then went to bed.

The next morning I walked into the library, threaded the next microfilm on the reader, and that's when the really small but really big miracle happened. 

Suddenly the work thinned out. I could see the information I needed better. It began to make more sense to me.

And I knew in that moment that my prayer had been answered.

I had gone and done, and God prepared a way so I could accomplish my work.

Other small miracles happened along the way that week, including my keys not getting locked in my rental car and my flash drive with over 500 files of data not getting lost and the librarian showing me the scanner and granting me permission to scan the whole book (against library protocol), but the final miracle occurred in the last hour I was researching. The library isn't a very busy place (which astounded me, since it houses some of the coolest stuff ever and I'd wished I'd had more time to peruse their collection), and by the end of the week, all the librarians and archivists knew me by name. I approached the archivist in charge of inter-library material loans, asking what they had available to loan out of the final two papers I needed to search. Instead of me looking into it, Dave figured it all out for me. Copes of both papers (full collections) are available for inter-library loan--which means I will not have to plan another trip to Richmond, away from my family, in order to complete my data collection.

This all may not seem like much, but to me, it was everything. I knew the Lord's hand was in my study, in my experience, and in my life. I knew He was mindful of my struggle and what was important to me at the moment. It wasn't a big thing like buying a house or sending someone off to war, but it mattered to me--and thus mattered to Him.