EVE DENTON

With the absence of real school every day, private personal learning has become even more valuable. Eve is still working with our favorite teacher of all-time, now retired and teaching kids at home. Her recent assignment was to create a photo collage to represent every letter in her name. Eve took this assignment very seriously, stressing over each image and whether it could be discerned by the other kids on the Zoom call. See if you can guess . . . 

(This letter has two pictures)

Just in case you struggled through, here's the key.

I've always appreciated LMK for her work but never more than now.
Quarantine has created its own rhythm, and sometimes it's relaxing and good, and other times it's a slog. Thanks for giving Eve something to look forward to each week.

Holy Saturday

Yesterday was Good Friday. And it was so good for our family. We participated in the Worldwide Fast to combat COVID-19 and it was a subtle, bonding experience for all of us. We have faith that miracles await us, including miracles inside that change our hearts and draw us closer to God.

When I woke up this morning, I couldn't shake the feeling that today was the darkest of the dark days for Christ's followers. Until His body was off the cross and in the tomb, I'm sure someone held out hope that He would wield powers from heaven and smite the Romans and the Jewish leaders with lightning and God's wrath.

But that didn't happen.

How would that feel? To place all of your trust and faith and freedom in a Man. . . and for it to die, just like any other person who ever lived? Rome beat the King. Judah beat the King.

He lost. And they lost.

That must have been the most confusing and painful Sabbath ever for Christ's followers. It was the Sabbath of the Passover--supposed to be their holiest celebration season of the year. And it wasn't. How could it be? 

I pass this prickly pear cactus on my daily walk, and most of the time I see the spines and potential pain. But this time of year, it's almost ready to bloom, loaded with the potential to be something beautiful. No one knows the day that it will change, but when it does, it is beautiful.

Christ's followers thankfully only had to wait one excruciating day and two nights before the miracle. Christ was King. He defeated not only the Romans and the Sanhedrin but the greatest foe we all face.

Our current circumstance is much like this tea rose that has intertwined its thorny and blossoming self with the cactus--two spiny plants that in spring share their beauty with the world, but beware the thorns.

How can I make this time in history not so dark for me personally? How can I focus on hope and the future and the flowers? That's what I'm looking for today on this dark Saturday when the tomb was still sealed, the heavens were silent, and Christ's people were broken in a way I will never understand. The miracle was happening behind the stone, just as it must be today.

That Holy Saturday must have been the darkest day in all human history for believers. Yet, as Joseph B. Wirthlin so beautifully said, Sunday came. Not everyone who knew of Jesus's death witnessed or even believed the miracle of His resurrection. But for the believers, it was glorious, faith-affirming, and life-altering.

This fast will have the same reaction. Some will see God's hand in the results. Others will justify them away or refuse to believe anything even happened. That's ok.

No one celebrates the Saturday. No one makes special meals or sings special songs. It's just the day in between the worst and the best. And that's where we are right now--almost to the solution, almost to the end, almost to the miracle--waiting for what is bound to be glorious and hard and beautiful.

I'm going to celebrate the Holy Saturday today. I'm going to remember those people who loved and lost not only their Savior but their friend, their brother, their son, their teacher, and leader. I'm going to mourn with them as they must have mourned, just as I mourn with the world today and those who are sick, have lost loved ones, or are fighting every day to find vaccines, tests, and cures. But the difference between them and me is that I know the end of the story. I know the miracle of Sunday.

Sunday will come for us, too.

Sewing Lesson in Quarantine

I've always felt like I needed to teach my kids how to sew like my mom taught me. But . . . I never really did. Mom has taught a few my kids to use a machine, but I only remember one sewing project one time I completed with one of my kids . . . until coronavirus.

On Wednesday, I taught my kids to sew.

How to sew masks.

 They were crudely cut, not very carefully sewn, and unappreciated for the skills taught.

 Well, unappreciated by one, who will remain nameless.

And we wore those inexpertly created masks to the store yesterday. 

I was surprised (since I haven't been out in a week) that so few people were actually wearing masks--about 25%, I'd guess.

I don't know how I feel about masks, to be truthful. Wear them to protect yourself, and you're stupid. Wear them to protect others from your germs, and you're community-conscious. I don't know exactly why we wore them or what I think about them. I do know that we are encouraged to limit the number of people who go to the store, but I find it important to occasionally show my kids what is happening around them. How the stores went from crazy zombie apocalypse to returning more to normal this week. They've been to the stores with me a total of twice, and that has been good for them to get out (for us ALL to get out). And I'm glad they learned a new life skill . . .

I can't explain how I feel about all this. Weird is the only word that keeps coming from my lips and that is woefully inadequate to describe what is going on.

And on and on and on.

General Conference During Quarantine

I don't know if I've ever anticipated General Conference like I did this time. I didn't demand the kids take notes, but instead we just sat and listened as they did silent activities alongside my note taking. I will admit that my notes were less feverish this time and more inspired.

 We have a few GroupMe threads in our ward, one of which addresses food issues during the quarantine. When I voiced concern (complained) that I had three birthdays and cinnamon rolls this month and needed powdered sugar, this bag appeared overnight on my doorstep. We live in a good world.

And here we are today--April 10th--fasting along with many in the world as directed by a prophet. Fasting that the effects of the pandemic will be weakened. That economies will rebound. That caregivers will be safe. And that our lives can normalize.

I know President Nelson is a prophet. I wonder what the effects of this worldwide fast will be, as the coronavirus pandemic creeps closer and closer to home. I know prayer is powerful, and I hope this joint effort yields an incredible blessing on our world, now and in the next few months, because I anticipate reentry will not be easy.

And the Walls Came A Tumblin' Down

During every General Conference weekend as long as I can remember my kids have built cup towers. They began with the tiny single-swallow cups from preschool then progressed to the 10-oz. size. It keeps them occupied, quiet, and listening through ten hours of talks and music, so I accommodate them by keeping them stocked in supplies.

Eve created this one, and when the tower grew beyond her reach, she enlisted Hyrum's help. 

Then it fell, as cup towers are wont to do.

 And they began again, with the clear cups this time.  It took them about twenty minutes to rebuild it, and then it reached heights that only Micah's monkey arms could reach.

 Don't mind Hyrum standing on the counter . . .

 They did it! They built a tower that touched the ceiling. Hyrum had to create a special cup to squeeze into the last few inches. Pretty cool, right?

Well, Mom decided that she needed this to be a teaching moment. She should have known better than to try and teach math, right? She asked them to figure out how many cups were in the tower. There's a formula to use, and after Dad taught them the formula, Micah calculated that there were 406 cups in the tower. Hyrum did it a little longer way, and he also came up with 406 cups.

Mom elected to count the cups and see if indeed there were 406 cups in the tower.

And Dad happened to capture that devastating moment when . . .

 . . . either my skirt or my notebook caught one of the lower levels . . .

. . . and the entire thing crashed to the ground.

 I've never felt so bad.

Guess it was a good thing that Mom knocked it down and not one of the kids, right? They were pretty forgiving of their klutzy mom . . . but no one built another tower for the rest of conference.

#20

Birthday #2 in quarantine.

Lily turned 20 on Saturday.

My girl has grown up. Quarantine has been hard for her--she's on leave from her job and there isn't much to do (and she is a DO-ER!), but she played with the kids and got Claussen pickles. So what more could a gal ask for?

Love you, Jane.

Quarantine Snapshots

There's been joy in this roller coaster journey. Small snapshots into what really matters.

I've been more aware of the light, watching how it changes my mood and affects my world.

People have gotten more creative. My neighbor set up a fun scavenger hunt for many of the kids on our street for the morning of St. Patrick's Day. That was when this all seemed new and fun and temporary.

My kids were pretty creative at the beginning as well. Eve made an Amazon box into a car that parked on our back patio for a week.

Hyrum used the wax surrounding a Babybel cheese as a seal on a letter requesting game time, and Eve wrote us the sweetest note. She frequently drops notes around the house for me, and I hope she never outgrows it.

I bought a new plant at the grocery store. Brad noticed water on it one day but didn't think anything of it . . .

. . . until he saw it again the next day. When I googled the plant, we discovered that this plant "weeps" when it's overwatered, but that it doesn't hurt it since it's native to the rainforest. See the drip on the end of the leaf here? Cool, right? I'd never heard of that.

Early in our quarantine adventure, I took the kids out to buy a few more pittisporum for our yard. It's funny how just looking at this photo from three weeks ago makes me feel like somehow we were doing something "wrong." 

God blessed us with an incredible rainstorm. AZ kids love the rain and never pass up a chance to run around in it--because it's usually warm. Not this time. But that didn't prevent them from getting soaked and laughing.

I took my fiddle leaf fig trees out, but the storm quickly blew them over and ripped a few of their leaves, sadly.

We are lucky that we get to spend quarantine with the Johnsons, the cute family that lives in our guest house. We share the yard and otter pops and and goldfish crackers and card games almost every afternoon. It keeps all of us a little more sane.

One afternoon they set up an obstacle course in the back yard, and Eve was the photographer.

Marc is the cool dad, and they even went camping in the backyard one night. Ruby stuck her head out and yelled, "GOODNIGHT JEN!" before they zipped it up for the night.

Strangely it was one of the coldest nights we had in March, and halfway through the night, Marc had to put on the rain fly so the little people didn't freeze.

There's been a lot of reading in this house that loves books and stories.

Tucker's family has been here most days, but that is the extent of our exposure to the outside world--six little people and their four parents. It's strange that the world has shrunk to that now.

We began our quarantine with lots of bike rides along the canal, but those have slowly lost their allure.

I was laid up after a minor bike crash a few weeks ago, but I'm back exercising and running along the canal I love. Before long, it will be hot and I won't be able to run any time of the day.

We watched this pair of ducks for weeks, hoping to see babies following along between them, but it looks like they either didn't lay eggs this spring or that none of them hatched. That idea made Eve very sad for the poor mama duck. And me, too.

I'm very grateful that Target has been deemed an essential store. I can get groceries and essentials (in theory, but still have yet to see TP on any shelf anywhere since this whole craziness descended) and chocolate-covered Peeps, since Target is the only place I've ever seen them.

Admittedly, I've purchased way more than my share of these delectable creations.

I've watched the night sky closer as well, since I lock the feathered ladies in their coop every evening. There's such peace in the transition from flaming color to darkness, and often I stand out there for a moment to remember how good life really is, despite all the crazy inconvenience and fear and everything else.