Lemon Meringue

This is something that I wrote a few days after my father in law passed away.  Trevor read it at his father's funeral.

Lemon Meringue Pie

(For Dennis.  November 23, 2012)

     Anyone who has ever met my father in law Dennis can tell you that he is a real story teller.  If you’ve spoken to him even once, you may know a few things about his childhood- like the fact that he had Polio and the doctors said that he would not live long-or that he once won a playground fight which gave him a reputation as a bit of a tough guy.  You may have heard the one where he and his brother took an extra long ride on their bikes one day, to the distress of their poor mother- or the one where his father had to wash his mouth out with soap just for trying out a “brand new word”.  But there is one story that has always stood out to me the most.  It’s hard to say exactly why.  It simply goes that young Dennis was not fond of pumpkin pie like the rest of his family, so on holidays, his mother would make him his own pie....Lemon meringue, his favorite.  Maybe I like this story best because it speaks to me of a mother’s love for her son.  Maybe I like it because 50 years later, Dennis’s eyes still lit up like Christmas morning as he said the words: “A whole pie….just for me!”

**********

     You may already know that a few short months ago, our family was living on the Island of Samoa.  It was truly beautiful there.  We loved the people.  We wore flip-flops everywhere we went.  We ate coconuts every day.  It was a pretty sweet life and we were happy.  Then one day, we got a call from home telling us that Dennis was very sick and did not have long to live.  In 4 days, we sold or gave away everything we had and bought our plane tickets home. 

     In returning, it was hard to see Dennis in his weakened state, but in the mornings, when he was feeling his best, he would be his old self again- making jokes or telling stories.  We felt so grateful to have that precious time with him.

     Then, a few days before Dennis died, when he had almost lost his appetite entirely, when we had watched him suffer for weeks on end, when we had all said our “goodbyes” and our “I love you”s over and over again- there came a sort of gloomy day where it felt like there was nothing more we could do to help him.  I came up with this idea.  I told my children the story about the Lemon Meringue Pie and we all decided to try to make one for Grandpa. 

     My kids were so excited!  Kai squeezed the lemons for juice,  Adah helped me crack the eggs into Grandma’s high speed mixer, and even 3 year old Noah helped by grating the lemon peel.  We were at it for hours!  All the while, Dennis sat in his chair in the corner and alternately dozed and watched all of the craziness.  In the end, we were rewarded with two, gorgeous, tall and fluffy pies that we felt quite proud of.

     As I said before, Dennis had mostly lost his appetite by that time, so I don’t know how much he could really enjoy the taste, but he insisted on eating his pie before his dinner so he could be sure to have enough room.  We thought this was a good sign.  Of course, we all helped ourselves to a big piece of pie as well.  I had never tasted it before.  It was the perfect mix of tart lemon and sweet meringue.  I cried a lot while making and eating the pie, because I hoped that Dennis would understand what we were trying to do and could feel just how much we all loved him.

********

     In the few days since his passing, I have taken some time to reflect on the past few months with Dennis.  For my family, it has been a time of upheaval, of relocation, of adjustment.  It has also been a time for family, a time for prayer and a time for priorities.  For Dennis, it must have been a time of trial, a time of pain and emotional suffering.  It would be so difficult to watch your own body betray you in such a way. But I know that for Dennis and Jennene,  the past few months have brought an unprecedented outpouring of love and support from family members who visited and wept and expressed their love, from neighbors-who were as good as family- and stepped in to fill any need, and from Church members who called, visited, brought meals, said prayers and gave blessings. 

      I will never forget waking up on a Saturday morning to find 40 people, young and old, in the back yard mowing, trimming, weeding and pruning.  When everyone was finished and gone, Dennis pushed his walker out into the yard and remarked that he had never seen such a turn out to a ward service project.  It made him feel like a million bucks!

     In the end, it is a little hard to know how to feel about it all.  We are sure going to miss our sweet Grandpa Dennis, but, there has been so much sweetness to balance out the bitterness of this difficult time.  So I guess that is how I will choose to remember it…..bittersweet-like Lemon Meringue Pie.

Sad Goodbyes

There were so many difficult goodbyes to say in such a short amount of time.  I'm sure that more than half of them were not documented.  I just wanted to post the ones that were on my camera.  If any of you have pictures of us, please sent them to our facebook.  We would love to see your sweet faces!  

                    (I can't believe I am posting this picture Rebecca, but it's the only one I have of us!)

Going Home

It's hard to believe that this whole thing started only a week ago.  It was Wednesday in Samoa and Trevor called me from work in the middle of the day and asked me to pick him up.  I knew that something must be terribly wrong. I dropped Noah at our wonderful neighbor's house and made the ten minute drive to Trevor's work in only five.

The news was truly as awful as I had imagined. Trevor's father had been given only a short time to live.  We called home that afternoon and spoke with his father.  He sounded very week, but very calm. He told us  "I am not afraid to die.  I have lived a good life and I would not change a thing."  Hearing his voice both soothed us and made us want to see him right away.  That night, when Trevor saw our sweet children, he had an overwhelming urge to take them home to see their Grandpa, and that is just what he did.

On Thursday, Trevor notified his boss that he would be ending our contract early.  On Friday, I bought tickets home and Trevor had his last day of work.  Saturday we sold everything we owned except the shirts on our backs and a few books and personal items.  Sunday we said goodbye to most of the people we know.  On Monday, the kids had their last day of school while Trevor and I tried to pack, clean house, pay bills, rent, etc.

Then, on Tuesday morning, just before leaving for the airport, Trevor and I had a sudden, still moment while sitting in the car and waiting for our gas to be pumped.  We were talking about all of the things that we wished we had time to do before we left Samoa.  I said, "One minute you are living your everyday life, and the next you are holding your ticket home."  My word just hung in the air as their deeper meaning sunk in.........later that day, we boarded the plane and said goodbye to our beautiful Samoa.

I have been in Utah for 3 days now, and in that time I have been thinking alot about the lessons that Samoa has taught me. When I swept and cleaned my Mother-in-laws kitchen, I thought about my dear friend who cleaned my entire house in the midst of our last-day chaos.  I wanted to pass that on.  When I found myself watching all of the grandchildren, I thought about our sweet neighbors who tended our children innumerable times and I wanted to pass that on.  I thought of friends who fed me and my children, either just for fun on a Sunday night, or in times of stress or crisis.  I am trying to pass that on.  I thought of the many who gave rides to my children and I am trying to buy a bigger car so I can pass that on too!  Samoa has taught me to be grateful for small and precious things, that waiting for something often makes it better.  It has taught me see a need and fill it, to do something really generous simply because it feels SO good, and most of all, how to live my life as though I am already holding my ticket home.

Waiting

I had the overwhelming opportunity of taking my son Kai to the hos/>ital last Monday.  He needed a chest X-ray for a chronic cough.  Luckily, a good friend of mine talked to me before our visit so I knew a little about what to ex/>ect.  We had to find the registration desk where we needed to register Kai for the use of the facilities.  Next we needed to />ay in advance for the procedure (a who/>/>ing $8!) and then we were to go and wait in the X-ray wing to be called. Sounded fairly straight forward.

So.... we />ulled into the small,dirt, hos/>ital />arking lot.  There were street dogs slee/>ing under many of the />arked cars and a taxi being />ut u/> on blocks right in the middle of the main drive.  We walked over to the entrance and began our search for the registration desk.  Beyond a short walkway was an o/>en courtyard.  />eo/>le were everywhere: leaning against walls, sitting or lying on benches, standing in various lines.  I was so grateful for the ma/> my friend had drawn me because I would not have found the correct building otherwise.  It was unmarked and had large louvred windows that looked out onto the main walkway.  Kai and I peeked in the windows and saw the blessed desk, but we could not find the door.  After circling back around, we finally found an entrance and began waiting in the line that had formed just inside the door.

 After a few minutes, I noticed that />eo/>le were moving in and out of the line in an odd way.  (Don't even get me started on Samoans and line cutting because I will have to devote an entire />ost to the baffling things I have seen.)   I was not sur/>rised to see />oe/>le entering and standing in the line ahead of me, but I did not ex/>ect to see />eo/>le randomly leaving as well.  Finally, I asked a woman if she was in line for the registration and she told me "leai"...which is one of the few Samoan words that I know quite well: "no".  Hmmmm.  This was not a line but a cluster of waiters.  Kekai and I moved over to the center of the giant room to try again.  There seemed to be a line that extended out from the desk and into the middle of a huge seated crowd.  By scooting />ast />eo/>le and asking the same question over and over again, we were finally able to distinguish the end of an actual  line.

After a half an hour or so, (no clocks) Kai and I found ourselves in front of the registration desk.  There was a />lexi-glass window that was no longer entirely trans/>arent.  It had several holes drilled into it for s/>eaking through.  Behind it was a woman with a com/>uter and behind her, was a sight that made my jaw dro/>. There was more />a/>er stuffed into that tiny room than I have ever seen in one />lace.  If you can imagine that the entire room was a giant filing cabinet with shelves that covered three sides of the room from floor to ceiling. The extraordinary  />art was that there was not a single file folder or letter of the al/>habet or number system to be seen, just a million sheets of />a/>er and no a/>/>arent order. As I stood />onderinghow  how a />erson could ever kee/> track of a />eice of />a/>er in that />lace , I  realized that the woman inside was waiting for me to say something. I leaned over and s/>oke into the drill holes as loudly as I could: "We...need... an.... X-ray" and handed her the doctors request sli/> with Kekai's name and info on it.  She looked at it and told me that the com/>uter was down and handed it back.  I just stood there.  Another dead end.  The woman waved me over to the cashiers desk and began s/>eeking with the next />erson in line. 

The cashier's line was blessedly short.  I did not know what was going to ha/>/>en when I told this new woman that we were unable to register, but she merely looked at our doctor's request, shrugged and asked for $20 Tala.  I said something like: "Is is OK?"  She said: "It's OK."  I thought to myself....."Well then, OK." A/>/>arently, the registration />art of the hos/>ital is sim/>ly a formality.  LOVE IT! Samoan customer service is often so shockingly bad and also relievingly wonderful-all at the same time.

Next, Kai and I went in search of the "/>hoto Imaging" building. We found it, entered and gave a new woman our doctor's request, recei/>t of />ayement and once again ex/>lained about the com/>uter />roblem with registration.  This woman also shrugged as though it was no />roblem at all, and send us to wait for our X-ray inside a long, fairly dark, hallway.  We sat on wooden benches against the wall.  It was our turn to wait.

Now, (stay with me here...I am about to hit u/>on my entire reason for writing this />ost.)  as I was sitting there with Kai, ten minutes, twenty minutes, thirty, forty.....I looked around me. Samoans were sitting and sometimes lying on the benches.  Shoes were generally off; they were relaxed and chatting with their family or friends. I could not hel/> contrasting this ex/>erience with so many />ast tri/>s to the doctor's office in America.  At home there would be air conditioning blasted, car/>eting and comfy chairs available as well as magazines to read, music />laying, />robably a T.V., and definitely... a full, salt water aquarium.  It gave me this feeling like the American doctors office is set u/> as an a/>ology: "We are sorry that you are wasting your time here waiting to see the doctor.  We will try to hel/> you stay />re-occu/>ied with many comforts until your a/>/>ointment".  In America, its almost as though we are ex/>ected to feel />ut out whenever we have to wait for something.  Here in Samoa, on the other hand, there does not seem to be a conce/>t of time being wasted, just of time being s/>ent and there is a big difference in the way it feels! Here we were, sitting in a dingy hallway, on a hard bench, watching the linoleum />eel off of the floor and just />lain hanging out, but no one seemed the least bit bothered.  In fact, everyone seemed to be enjoying the chance to take a load off of their feet and be inside from the hot sun and chat with someone nearby.  It was one of those moments when I realized that all of the technology in the world and all of the conveniences that go along with it, are not necessarily doing anything to make us better />eo/>le.  In fact it seemed quite the o/>osite.

 At this />oint in my e/>i/>hany, a nurse called out Kekai's name.  We entered a large room  where Kai was quickly X-rayed, and, in an unex/>ectedly high-tech moment, the nurse scanned the X-ray film, e-mailed it to our Doctor, and two minutes later, we found ourselves blinking in the mid-day sun with the street dogs and the taxi driver who was still working on his car. 

Later that night, I was telling Trevor about our day. I told him that I was making a personal goal to view time in a different way.  I want to learn to be more />atient- to be more easy going like our Samoan friends.  I want to use the time I s/>end waiting (and there really is quite a bit of it here) as a sort of meditation to live in the now.  When the check out girl is hand writing my recei/>t in />recise, and tedious cursive, I will take a dee/> breath and look around me at the beautiful faces in line.  I will wiggle my fli/> flo/> toes and enjoy the dreamy, tro/>ical weather.  When I am stuck behind a bus who has />arked u/>hill on a blind curve in the road....I will take another dee/> breath and enjoy some of the scenery. I will take a look at my gorgeous, growing, island kiddos and sto/> worrying about being late for school.  In the bigger />icture, we only have so many moments left in this sweet country, and I would hate to waste any of them being im/>atient.
This is our official announcement: We are going home in January.....but I will not live my life waiting for it.  I want to live and enjoy every moment of this crazy, vibrant, thrilling, jungle life and then go home with a few new lessons learned.

Starve the Weevils

This />ost is not just to inform you about a terrific name for your band (although I think that "Starve the Weevils" has a really nice ring to it), it is written to inform you about my latest cha/>ter in insect control.

 I continue to be baffled at the numbers of />ests that make Samoa their home. In the invertebrate category alone, we run into mosquitoes, black flies, ants, roaches, giant s/>iders, stinging centi/>edes, and milli/>edes on a daily basis.  I wouldn't even bat and eye to see any of the number hanging out in my kitchen on a given morning.  Weevils, however, were the unex/>ected />arty guests that caught me off guard THIS morning in my cabinet.  Here is the story:

I have this large tu/>/>erware container that I use as a way  to kee/> bugs out of our o/>ened food bags.  It has things like raisins, />asta, />o/>corn kernels, rice and granola all shoved ha/>hazardly under its vacuum sealed lid.  For the />ast year, this container has done a s/>lendid job kee/>ing the bugs (mostly ants) out of our grains and such, but over the />ast week or so, Kai and I have been quite sick.  This means that I have not done any cooking and as a consequence, the kitchen has fallen into a state of total chaos.  (OK, ok, if you know me really well then you are calling my bluff.   I will admit that as a rule, my kitchen is always in a state of chaos.  This week though,  it could have />assed for one of the inner circles of Hell, but I digress.)  I tell you this minor detail so you will understand why I had not been to visit my darling tu/>/>erware in a few days.  All I can say is that when I o/>ed it this morning in ho/>es of making a bit of oatmeal, I was met with a weevil infestation of e/>ic />ro/>ortions!  It was like I had created a uto/>ia for weevils....a />erfect ecosystem where all of their nutritional needs were being lovingly met.  Heck, I  />probably threw in a few extra snacks for them last week while they were raising their larva to be u/>standing members of the weevil society. 

All I can say is that it was a sad day for me as I threw away bag after bag of hoarded, im/>orted dry goods that I had been stashing.  I chucked beans and cereals and dried fruit.  I />arted with goodies that I may not find again on this island.  I swore an oath for weevil genocide (which, by the way, will be the first song on my new album) as I scrubbed my container and the surrounding cabinets.  I vowed .......to starve the weevils.

Rollercoaster

Our two years in Samoa will be u/> this January.  For those of you who do not already know, we are trying to decide if we would like to extend our contract to stay for another year.  We have been agonizing over this decision for quite a few months now and we don't really feel any closer to having an answer. Living in Samoa has been such a bi/>olar ex/>erience. We have had some of the most beautiful, rewarding, tro/>ical-/>aradise-ty/>e ex/>eriences of our lives.  We have met some of the most amazing />eo/>le, learned so much about ourselves and grown together as a family.  At the same time,  we have had more trials, traumatic ex/>eriences and been more overwhelmed and disliked than we have in all of our lives.  We feel so grateful for the meaningful ex/>eriences that we have had here, and we just ho/>e to survive the crazier ones.

Trevor and I />ulled our family journal out the other day and began to record a few of the more intense, insane and extreme ex/>eriences we have had here in Samoa.  As we re-read our  list, we realizes what a giant roller coaster ride we have been on.  Thought you might like a ride too:

(Caution: uncensored life included.)

I'm  sitting in a grass-thatched, o/>en hut by the ocean.... brilliant turquoise coloured water, sun is shining brightly, white sand,  />alms trees rustling in a warm breeze. I have a chilled coconut to drink in my hand.

 Trevor has to have a chest X-ray for his work visa.  Unfortunately, the hos/>ital worker has never used this giant old dinosaur of a machine.  After 8 CHEST X-RAYS, she feels confident that she has a clear picture..  

 I am out on the ocean in a 6 man outrigger canoe.  I am />addling with the Samoan men's team, which means we are travelling over the water at amazing s/>eeds.  I can see the whole island from out here....jungles of />alm trees climbing the side of a misty mountain. 

  I am listening to the neighborhood kids />lay rugby in the field out back.  I can hear their shrieks of laughter, their bursting into song, their />laying their guts out until the sun goes down.

The children collect seashells at the beach.  So />retty!  A few days later there is the smell of death coming from our car.  A/>/>arently, one of those little beauties still had a critter living inside. 

A friend makes us />assion-fruit butter (Mmmmmmmm) from fruits she />icked in her yard.

 A  />ack of wild dogs is dismembering some small creature in the back yard.


My blonde babies are running barefoot in a tangle of bright-eyed, brown children.


Noah goes barefoot for a month until a new boat comes in with kid shoes.


 Kai is jum/>ing off a giant, black, lava rock into the rushing ocean waves.

We are cam/>ing and far from a />harmacy when I realize (by flashlight) that my children have worms.

 Adah is singing songs and s/>eaking in Samoan.

The entire family has lice again.

Trevor hel/>s a baby sea turtle to the ocean.

Hit a bag in the road and an unknown, decom/>osed substance ex/>lodes all over the undercarriage of our car.  The smell last for weeks.  Cannot />ark the car near the house and />oe/>le turn and cover their noses when we drive by.

(This is Trevor's favorite, not mine!)  We go to a friend's birthday />arty and find an entire COW on a s/>it, cooking over an o/>en fire.

Our neighbor's maid sneaks into our house while we are in the yard, and steals 500 dollars.  The next day, Trevor leaves for Tonga and I have to take the three kids down to the station to />ress charges. 

A Tsunami warning in the night.  We are told to go to slee/> and we will wake u/> to sirens telling us to get to higher ground if there is an actual threat.

Our Sweet Samoan neighbor who lives in the village is u/>set that the ladies at the sho/> charge me an extra 40 cents for their home baked taro.  Every Sunday, she goes to her own />lantation, />icks bananas, taro, coconuts and breadfruit, cooks it over an o/>en fire, and sends her children to bring it to my home for me.

We inherit a cat who />rom/>ly moves into the rafters of our little house.  One rainy day, the cat ste/>s on a soggy ceiling tile and a gallon of urine-soaked, rain water crashes into the middle of our living room.
 
We take a little boat out to a neighboring island.  On the half hour ride, Noah sits in the boat drivers la/> and snuggles with him while the rest of the family jum/>s overboard for a swim in the im/>ossibly dee/> and brilliantly blue sea.

A s/>ider the size of my />alm is hanging out in the shower.

Adah has a boil that ru/>tures green />uss all over the library.

The children learn to snorkle and hunt for cobalt blue starfish.

All of the neighborhood kids build swings in the lemon tree out front.  The yard is full of  the sounds of joyful children.

We all get a scoo/> of delicious, New Zealand ice cream and walk a mile on the seawall.
 
Our Momma dog that loves us and smiles every time she sees us, has to be />ut to slee/> in our car/>ort because she is slowly dying.  The children are in the house and the vets leave me with her body to bury.  I don't know where to buy a shovel in Samoa.

I find a shovel in Samoa.  Our wonderful  neighbor, who is doing the lending, takes time from his busy day to come over to dig the hole.  He buries our dog for us.

All the the village dogs are in our front yard, trying to dig u/> the grave.  I find cinder blocks and large rocks to cover the grave, but for weeks, the street dogs will not go away. 

I dro/> Noah off at />re-school and turn to leave the />arkinglot.  I can see down the hill to the ocean.  It  goes on forever.


Two weeks before my half marathon, my running shoes are stolen as they dry out on the clothesline.

Kekai and I are standing on a rock ledge at the edge of a bright, blue />ool.  To our left is a rushing waterfall that is 75 feet tall.  We are encircled within a dee/> grotto of black, lava rock and huge, hanging ferns.  We SCREEEAM......then jum/>.

******* Can you see what I'm saying? In trying to decide if we should stay or go, we are, in essence, trying to decide about the kind of life we want to be living.   We can go home to Utah, where we can be assured of a steady life, with many conveniences.  We will ex/>ect that nothing too s/>ectacular is bound to sur/>rise us on a given Tuesday afternoon, and likewise, nothing too horrific is bound to sneak u/> on us either. OOOOOR, we can extend our contract and take one more heart sto/>/>ing, stomach dro/>/>ing, loo/>-de-loo/> ride.  (I'll kee/> you />osted.) 

The baby hour

Lets just be frank...... Samoa is hot as Hell. Most folks try to avoid being out in the sun too much between the hours of 9:00 AM - 6:00/>m. You just get too hot and too dehydrated. It's best to stick to the shade. All I really wanted to say is that I love the cooler hours in the early morning and night when everyone is outside. They are the hours when the babies come out! Durring the day, any baby out on the road is covered with a towell or a large umbrella, and they are being quickly moved from one />lace to another.  In the evenings though, all the momma's take their little ones out to get some air. Moms and babies are sitting by the road, standing by the sho/>, taking a walk...those gorgeous little faces are everywhere.  I call it the "baby hour" and it's one of my favorite times of the day.