Tonsils, Birthdays, the Letter J, and so Forth

I had an adult tonsillectomy 12 days ago. 

(It felt necessary to insert the word "adult" in there [even if it does sound scandalous]. Obviously I couldn't have had a child's tonsillectomy at age 47. But then, that is exactly what I wanted you to understand.)

I actually felt the cocoon of prayers and priesthood power all about me going into this procedure. And I had none of the possible complications that can attend the recovery phase (extreme nausea, bleeding, etc.). I think I probably had one of the smoothest experiences one could expect. 

And it was still miserable.

(I say was. Hmph. I have at last turned the corner [as they say]. That is true. But I strongly suspect it will be another week yet before I feel normal. So I can't quite speak of this as a was experience.)

Still, life goes on as it needs must. (In fact, multiple times during the last week I've been to the grocery store or to a school function and I've thought, "I look so perfectly normal. I really should be wearing my head all bandaged up or something to let people know that I am not perfectly normal and should be receiving all sorts of exclamations of 'you poor dear' and 'you brave soul'".)

In any case I've made up my mind: no more getting my tonsils out ever again unless I am only five years old. (It shouldn't be too hard a rule to stick to. Unless I get reincarnated and forget. Heaven forbid.)

But back to life going on--with or without tonsils:

Our fogs are back!!! (Well not really back back. This was the first one I've seen since our last fog season. But oh I love how it makes everything feel a mysterious and otherworldly. And neither of those are even the right words. What does it make everything feel? The way it just sort of quietly washes away--like it was never there at all. It makes me feel like I'm glimpsing something secret and magical.)

And here is a nice early-morning moon. Was it the Harvest Moon? It's been on my camera roll for a few weeks so I can't recall for certain. I just sort of ... hope so?

Penny went to Homecoming.

Here we have Jesse trying to convince Hans that no, a 2nd grader named Kristina (whose strength Hans is shockingly impressed by) could not in fact beat Jesse at arm wrestling (as Hans had insisted she could):

Despite his own sound thrashing from Jesse, Hans remained unconvinced. And it ended with Abe promising he would come beat Kristina up if Jesse needed him to. (Though perhaps this mustache he came home wearing the other day might be enough to intimidate any seven-year-old would-be attackers.)

Here Jesse is building something at the farm. And also goofing around at a park we took all the kids to one evening.

Anders turned 13!

Our 6th time introducing a child of ours to their teenage years. 

I reminded him, the night before his birthday, that he had in fact promised me many times in the past that, when he became a teenager, he would not engage in any of the less-than-ideal teenage behaviors he may have at times witnessed from his siblings. 

"I was crossing my fingers when I said that," he informed me. 

In essence: he has promised nothing, and we are most likely doomed. 

(Giving him a skateboard probably only cinches that certainty more tightly.)

Yes, I made his Over the Garden Wall (the strangest little series imaginable) cake. (It's Enoch. The leader of Pottsfield.) Considering I have neither the aptitude for nor the interest in cake decorating (not even the patience to put any frosting into a frosting bag), it turned out remarkably! Ha!

Two signs I especially liked. The first was from Jesse. (If you know who Dean Higgins is, I am well pleased with you. We adore Dean Higgins.) The second was one Goldie sent. I just like her charming little drawings. 

Here Anders (who had school off for parent-teacher conferences) and I are at Starling's kindergarten "Alphabet Fashion Show" where each kid walked the runway sporting something that went with their assigned letter. (When Starling got the letter J, I tried all sorts of J things--we could have her wear jammies or be covered in jellybeans, etc. But she just kept getting weepy and saying, "I don't know what I'm supposed to be"! We finally realized she felt all at sea just having J things on her and felt certain she had to be something. 

We found her this jaguar outfit (which we were careful not to call a cheetah or a leopard) and she was happy as could be. (And has worn it ever since.)

Mette in Magna-Tiles boots.

An Activity Days temple activity for Summer and Mette (front row on the left).

The End.

Allred Ties and "Coincidence"

"Are you an Allred? You look just like the rest of your family!"

"Are you Tony's sister? We went to school together!"

"Is Dr. Allred your brother? He's my kids' pediatrician!"

"Is Gordon Allred your dad? I took biographical writing from him!"

"Oh are you Sharon's daughter? She's the most wonderful woman."

"Wait? Amy is your sister? Oh my goodness! She was in my last ward!"

Those unexpected connections have been, truly, a near constant occurrence in my life. (A teacher having taught siblings before me ["When I teach the last Allred, I quit!" one high-school history teacher wrote in red pen on one of my more exceptional essays], someone having read one of my dad's books and then made the connection to me, a stake president who grew up roaming the fields around Polk's End [the name bestowed on my childhood home] with my brother Rob, a friend's missionary son who is taken to dinner in TX by a "Brother Allred" that turns out to be my literal brother Aaron.)

And now, despite having no "Allred" moniker to obviously connect her to this side of her family, my Goldie has been experiencing this very same phenomenon! In Arkansas of all places!

Not long ago a visiting general authority came to her mission. Three missionaries were chosen ("at random" Goldie claims) to have an interview with him, and within very little time at all, they discovered that this general authority had been a student body officer with her Uncle John (my brother) back in high school. He knew my family and began reminiscing happily away with Goldie about her amazing grandparents who had opened their home to so many.

Only a few weeks later, Goldie emailed this crazy little experience to me and my mom:

Hey Grandma and Mom!

I've already got a lot to say in my main email this week, but I wanted to tell you about a cool experience I had! 

We walked up the stairs of an apartment building to see a man sitting out on his chair. Before we could say much at all he asked "you from Ogden?" I was delighted to say yes! After talking for a minute we made the connection of Weber State University. I knew it was a long shot but I couldn't help but blurt out "did you know Gordon Allred??" And he did! In fact, he worked side by side with him as an English professor. Many times in the following conversation he brought up what an excellent person he was. Incredibly respected and well loved, his classes always brimming with students. There was a lot to say about this good man. 

We left him a copy of the Book of Mormon, which he seemed very interested in studying. He said we could come back to talk about what he's learned. And he left us with a message to "tell the Allreds that Dr. Young wishes them well" I'm so grateful for Grandpa's ongoing example and the connections I've made because of this faith filled Allred family. And while nothing big came out of this meeting, I can't help but think that Grandpa Gordy sent me there.

Sure love you both and this family!!

Sister Harris

(Oh come on! Of course my dad lead Goldie there! What on earth are the chances that in some apartment building in Centerton, AR one of his old colleagues was living? One who had previously lived in Ogden without already having been a member of our church? And one that Goldie would "chance" upon in a city of 21,000?) 

These little unexpected ties and connections. 

These unlikely coincidences. 

I don't know. 

I think they are more than that. 

I don't know what exactly. If someone wanted some logical, well-expressed answer as to what I meant by "more", I would just sound bumbling.

But these things make me think of Elder Maxwell saying that what we call "coincidence" is actually "divine design" and President Monson saying "One day, when we look back at the seeming coincidences of our lives, we will realize that perhaps they weren't so coincidental after all".

There's something in these moments that makes me feel I'm catching tiny glimpses or flashes--lacking enough context to fully inform me about all that is going on--of God at work: weaving lives together, showing us that there is more significance in our connections than we could possibly guess, extending the influence of our sacrifices and imperfect offerings (like my parents' raising of so many children) much farther than they should possibly be able to extend. 

I don't know what any of it means! ... Only that ... it means something.

Elder Bednar once said that these tiny moments of surprise in timing and connection "do not occur randomly or merely by coincidence". He says, in fact, that it is the Lord's purposeful timing of these small mercies that is what makes it easier for us to "discern and acknowledge them". 

I just love the thought that, rather than feel we must dismiss coincidence, we can actually think that God made use of that tool for the express purpose of helping us notice His hand!

And speaking of those tiny types of coincidences, Goldie just got called to a new area of her mission--Salem, MO. 

She was a little nervous as she would be heading there with a brand-new missionary (rather than first adjusting to the area with a seasoned missionary who already knew the roads and people and various situations there). She'd heard mostly negative things about this place, but when she got there, she just felt so happy. Just immediately. It made me laugh when she first messaged me about it. "It's just the greatest place ever!!! ... Mostly trailer parks and very small run-down homes. And just the greatest people!!" And later, in her letter for the week, she said, "Salem is my happy place. If I think about it too long I start to tear up. ..."

Outwardly there appeared to be nothing to love at all about that tiny town. 

But she loves it. 

When she expressed all of this, it reminded me of this scripture from D&C 111 that I sent her:

And the place where it is my will that you should tarry, for the main, shall be signalized unto you by the peace and power of my Spirit, that shall flow unto you.

When her p-day came, and she could reply to me, she told me that she loved that verse I sent her so much and that she went to read the entire section after I sent it. She then said, "[D]id you see where it was given?? It's the coolest thing!!"

I didn't know. But I went and looked. 

It was given in another Salem!

To Goldie it felt such a confirmation that the Lord was telling her that her Salem was just where he wanted and had placed her right now. 

In other coincidental or non-coincidental news, before Goldie left on her mission, one of the things I felt to pray was that she would be a comforting and soothing presence to her companions. That she would say and do things that would help them not feel homesick. That by just being around her they would struggle less and be enabled to share their own gifts better. 

This may not be related, but I think it is interesting that nearly all of Goldie's companions have been brand new missionaries. She had one companion train her at the start, and one other who had been out awhile in another area she went to, but other than those two, every companion has been completely new to the mission!

And that's all for tonight!

A Rather Lengthy Epistle

Sept 11, 2024

It’s 7:20 pm and I’ve come out on our little porch to write this.

Mike left a half hour ago to drop Anders off to a deacons’ service activity and to take others with him to the farm to check on the chickens (no geese to check on anymore 😪), so only Summer and Mette are here with me—Summer microwaving popcorn and Mette practicing her cursive on some sort of homemade Halloween decoration (“Summer! How do you make a cursive b?”).

I was sitting at our piano, well, keyboard (the piano didn’t make the move to the rental) when the brown dusk and sound of distant rumbling thunder called me out here. (And it is brown. It’s close to dark, quite windy, lightning [no rain] … and a brown haze over it all.)

Anyway, somehow it beckoned, and out I came.

————-

Sept. 12, 2024

It’s now nearly 24 hours since I began the above. My typing was interrupted when a few rain drops started to fall and I thought I better rescue several pair of kids’ shoes scattered on the lawn. (Do we consider pasture grass—which is all the yard here is—“lawn”?) And anyway, Mette was calling me in to see her small creation. (It’s a bit early for Halloween decor, I think. But how could one say no to this? Or to the tiny paper-doll-style jack-o-lanterns she taped on my dresser?)

In any case, that hazy brown that so beckoned me? That was actually something. Every window of our house and car this morning was covered in a film of dirty spots.

But it did look cool. (In its threatening haze state. Before it settled itself into spots. A shame.)

And now a few small things:

1. Today the high was only about 64 degrees. Starling and I made sugar cookies shaped like pumpkins. It seemed the right way to welcome the kids home from school on the first fall-feeling day of the season.

I thought to make sausage/potato soup as well, but the evening filled up with: activity days for Summer and Mette, an orchestra registration for Summer, and guitar for Penny. (I’m sitting outside her little practice room as I type—the sound of electric guitar floating through the door. [Does electric guitar float? Can it?]) No potato soup has been made. (No dinner at all in fact.) Likely we will pick up pizza on the way home.

2. I bottled peaches the other day.

No. I did not bottle peaches. The wrong wording tumbled out and made me a liar.

I don’t know how to bottle peaches.

(My having lived 23 years in my mother’s home learning neither to bottle nor to sew is a sign of some underlying character defect, I fear. How many dresses did my mother make for me? [Even my wedding dress for crying out loud!] How often did I begin a project with her (determined I should learn) only to drift away and leave it to her? And how many times was I there helping to bottle apricots and peaches without ever learning a thing? [Oh but getting to write the year on each bottle lid—while the jar was still hot—with wax crayon! That’s a happy memory. Of course, all of it was happy memories. The only fault was in my failure to learn.])

But! What I meant to say was that I froze peaches the other day. (Which included “blanching” them, so, it’s not as if I just tossed whole peaches in the freezer!) It was all very domestic of me (even if there were no bottles). I told Mike I felt half inclined to welcome him home from work with a pair of slippers and the evening newspaper in hand.

Penny has since made us several peach smoothies. (And every single time I get a horrible "brain freeze". I bet bottled peaches would not do that. ...)

3. Zinnias! I didn’t get around to doing indoor starts. I just planted the seeds straight into the ground.

And then they all died of cold.

So then I planted them again several weeks later. And this time they took! But it was so late in the season for something to be starting from seed that I had no flowers until practically the end of summer.

Still. Now? Zinnias!

They might be my favorite flower! (I’m leaving room for some other flower I haven’t considered. Our dahlias in WA were pretty amazing. But zinnias are at least high high on my list.) I haven’t been able to have them for years because our snails got so bad in our Pleasant View home that they devoured every zinnia I ever attempted to grow.

They aren’t perfectly safe here. We do have grasshoppers. And they definitely do damage. (It’s one thing to have them eating the leaves, but I feel indignant when I come out and find a flopped over flower head because some grasshopper ate through half a stem.)

Still.

Zinnias!

4. Mike has been working away on his parents’ tractor at the farm. (I am now several days beyond my Sept. 11th and 12th entries by the way.)

And now he can do things like this!

(He just pulled a fence post from the ground—in case you couldn’t tell.)

5. Abe got called into his singles' ward bishopric. Of course, it seems just wild to me that he should be serving in such a demanding role at his age, but I love that they have begun calling the counselors to the bishop in these student wards right from among the young men in them. What a great opportunity to learn to rely on and serve the Lord more. Of course, Abe is no stranger to that--having served a mission and all. But on his mission that was all he had to do. Now he will need to learn to balance that type of service with work, social, hobbies, and a very intense academic program. When I texted him about it the other night he replied: 

"Oh I'll be fine. You certainly can't give the Lord a crumb without getting a loaf in return. 

"Something funny was that after lunch I went out with McKay [the other counselor] to knock on doors and meet people in the ward. We did it for about two hours and had a great time getting to know people. After that I said, "Wow we met a lot of people! How many do you think we did?" We counted and it was 14 out of 156 total 😂. Anyway still lots of work to do."

Here we all were gathered around a table in the high-council room waiting to ordain him a high priest and set him apart in his calling. That's a lot of people to just be his family! (And Goldie wasn't even there!) We especially thought it was neat that Abe's grandpa Alma was able to come and ordain him. A cool memory for him for sure--as I don't know that many people's grandpas are around when they get ordained to that priesthood office. (Thank you Alma!)

(There was some joking that the bishop had not called two counselors, rather, ... two bodyguards.)

6. Penny has begun a videography class in school. It's fun to see your kids showcase a talent you (and they) didn't even know they had. She is quite clever and natural in the angles and moments she weaves together for her video assignments. I'm not sure if I can figure how to share them here, but for now ... here Penny is when one of our late storms whisked in on Sunday evening and the two of us ran outside for a minute. (Good call on wearing red that day, Penny. Actually, I think it was I who insisted she wear that dress that day when she worried it was too bold. Kudos to me!)

7. Some Misc. photos:

Mette on the swing set. With Bagel. (I believe that is the name of this particular pig?)

Two little builders. 

Summer in the sun that pours into our front room as the sun moves towards setting.

Mette doing ... I don't know what. 

Penny, Summer and Mette helping Mike load some straw they bought from Uncle Lynn.

Daisy tending Moses and Stella (cousin Devin and Melissa's kids).

Our trampoline and swing set view. My view of them anyway. It cost me dearly in mosquito bites. But still so lovely.

Anders the duck whisperer.

And now I shall end this rather lengthy epistle. (That seems like something my dad might say at the end of one of his family journal letters.)