Christmas Books

We have a tradition of giving a Christmas book to each of our kids' families. The book for this year was Patricia Polacco's "The Blessing Cup," about a Jewish family's expulsion from Europe, a promise that they would never go hungry, and the precious last cup from the family's china set. It reminded me of a similar promise in our family history, and I wanted to make a book for our children and grandchildren that told some of our family stories including that one; and particularly I wanted to emphasize that the things that are important are not things. After a year of these ideas stirring about in my head, this was the result:

 

 At the end of this project I feel as though I've come across the plains with these people. I think I will know them when I meet them again, and I love them for their sacrifices, their faith and their unique contributions to my family history.

And yes, I spilled Chilean mate (a hay-like herb tea that I was drinking with a load of sugar so my hands wouldn't shake as I hand-wrote --eventually-- nine of these babies) all over one of the books instantly aging it like nothing else could.

I tried to credit my sources and to be accurate, but don't take this book as the authoritative word. Jay and I have discovered a wealth of stories on FamilySearch and Ancestry.com and other sites--some in conflict with others--but go there yourselves and read more to get the fuller picture.

One lesson for me is that those who wrote about their experiences get remembered. How many other experiences did our people have that are lost because they were not recorded?

Happy New Year everyone!

Knowing where I am in the world

Thanks to Lesley, I have the solution to my dysmapia problem. A darling compass I can hang around my neck! What an unbelievable gift. Much better than frankincense and myrrh or almost anything else I could think of. Thank you, thank you! On the back of this adorable ornament are the words, "To know where you are in the world," and a tiny map with Kaysville on it. Believe me, it may become a permanent part of my wardrobe until I'm back in Kaysville!

I've been thinking a lot about not so much my disorientation issues, but about how important place is to me. I told someone recently that I need to live in a place for a year before I really feel at home. I need to go through the cycle of the seasons and understand the place deeply. Chile has felt comfortable from the first, but more so every day. As we approach our year mark, I feel more possessive of this place, and despite my not knowing "up," I do know and love the eucalyptus smells--and that they are really fragrant after a rain; the screeching killdeer on steroids sounds of the birds and realize they nest on the ground and protect the eggs in the same way my playground killdeer do. I can recognize the edibles on our many trees--the big shade tree in front actually produces millions of delicious orange fruits called nispero (I'm sure the spelling is wrong but I remember the name by the association with "knee" and one day I was searching for the word and came up with the Spanish "rodilla"-something), the membrillo (quince) are starting to form fruits, the fig tree is unmistakable with its lobed leaves and the alamo--well, they have the same dry cottonwood sounds in the breeze that my Southern Utah cottonwoods do. 

When I was a student at Utah State I had the opportunity to fly to Logan from Yakima in a small plane. After making that 10 hour trip by car multiple times it was a revelation to see the highway down below and the canyons and mountains making sense of the twists and turns in the road. Not only was it beautiful, it was logical, and I couldn't get enough of watching the ground pass by. The added dimension of perspective was critical.

In heaven, I'm not going to be disoriented. That's motivation enough.