An Epiphany...Of Sorts

Thank you to all of you for reading and commenting on my last post. I felt a lot better after writing that and you saved me thou$ands in therapy costs. As we are all poor folk these days, anything to save a little money is very much welcomed. 


10 years ago, when I graduated from high school and started college (sweet mother of Elvis, has it really been that long?) I already had decided what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to be a journalist. I was going to be on TV and was set to take over Barbara Walters' job on 20/20. There was no doubt in my mind that Diane Sawyer was going to eat my dust. It was going to be awesome. Oprah wouldn't be able to hold a candle to me. I knew I was meant to be a reporter and to be in front of the camera. Take that, Katie Couric!


My plan was going along just perfectly until one day, in 2003 at the University of Utah, I had an epiphany. I was in the middle of my magazine writing class when I started to laugh. And as I started to laugh, it slowly turned into a sob. A full-on-I-want-my-mommy sob. I hated journalism. I hated the classes, I hated the writing, and most of all, I hated that teacher that had just ripped my article apart because "she didn't understand why anyone would write something like that." It was an article about teenage girls in abusive relationships and the signs to look for. She said it made women look weak and that no real woman would allow herself to be in that situation. I wanted to walk up to her, all 4 1/2 feet of her, sit on her face, make a flarty, and not get up until the stink went away. (I know, it's a little graphic, but you should hear the desires I have to stab a current co-worker in the jaw with my pen.)


Every female journalism and communications teacher I had in college felt like they had to prove themselves to EVERYONE! They were just as tough as a man and would dress like it to prove it. I realized that I am not that kind of person. I don't have to prove myself to anyone but me and to my Heavenly Father.
So I left the journalism program. I decided to become an English major and study creative writing. That lasted for half a semester. I got kicked out of the program because I wouldn't analyze poetry and I looked at Shakespeare plays as a theater person, not an English major snob. (It also didn't help that I did all of this in the class that was taught by the department head's wife!) 


So I moved on. Finally, I graduated with my degree in playwriting. I know, it's been oh so useful in my life...but it has helped in certain occasions. I wrote plays for my after school program kids. I wrote plays for other kids. I have been the editor for three books. And here's what all of this comes down to:


I love to write!


I do! I love it. I can express myself so much better in writing. All of the witty things in my brain can come out and they don't sound as crazy on paper as they would of I were to say them out loud. (Except for the jaw stabbing thing. I do admit that it's going a bit to far. Don't worry, after tomorrow I will no longer work with this person. Praise the baby Jesus for that one!)


I think this is why I enjoy blogging. Because there isn't a certain format I have to stick to. I don't have to follow the inverted pyramid or the MLM. I don't have to regurgitate a bunch of stuff that my professor's expected me to do. This is me. It may not always be pretty, and it definitely isn't proper, but it's who I am. It's how I feel and think about life. And even if no one were to read this (I am VERY grateful that you do!) I know that I am releasing my thoughts into the universe of the world wide web and allowing the juices to flow. I am being true to myself and not letting anyone tell me that having feelings and emoting makes me weak. Because it doesn't. I believe that what doesn't kill you will only make you stronger.  And gosh dang it, if the past few years haven't killed me, then a little jaw stabbing action won't either. Nor does it show that I am weak.


It merely shows that I am human. And in the end, isn't that what this life is about?

A time to heal

(Wendi and my uncle Scott at our wedding)

So it's time for me to say a few things and to get some things 

off my chest. Here goes...

On March 17th, we found out that 

my uncle, Scott W. Johnson, had passed away.

As the day went on, we found out more of the details.

All signs point to the fact that he took his own life.

Police were called, a detective was assigned to the case.

He was found, dead and alone.

We don't know exactly when all the events leading to this took place, 

but it was determined that it was that day.

March 17th is already a hard day for my family.

Five years before, my grandfather, 

Lyle W. Johnson, also passed away.

He had been ill and mt grandmother had cared for him on her own.

He received better care from her

then he ever would have at a nursing home.

After several strokes, heart attacks and dealing with diabetes,

he was left helpless.

The night before he passed away, 

my grandmother had told the Lord 

that she had made peace and was ready to let him go home.

The next morning, on their way to the hospital for a treatment for his leg,

he fell asleep in the passenger side of the car.

He had gone home.

As the family gathered for his funeral, there was a sense of sadness,

but also a sense of peace.

He was no longer suffering.

He had moved on 

and was now able to do the work that he loved doing in life.

He was going to teach the gospel to those 

that had not heard it on this earth.

It was a peaceful farewell.

Ever since then, 

there have been moments where I have felt him very near to me.

He was at our wedding, just as he had promised me he would be 

at another wedding ten years before. 

When I was in the prep room for my gallbladder surgery,

he and my other grandfather, John Mike Gates,

were right beside me the whole time. 

I could feel them watching over me.

In a moment were I was alone, 

without my husband and my parents,

they were there to comfort me 

and assure me of their eternal love for me.

Families are forever.

After I had heard that my uncle had passed,

my heart began to hurt.

I had no idea that he was hurting as much as he was.

We had heard things here and there,

but he had become withdrawn from the family.

Even at this moment, 

I realized that I have not allowed myself to fully mourn.

I have great memories of my uncle.

He was always smiling and laughing.

He had the best sense of humor.

He had the biggest heart of anyone I know.

He hid his pain from us.

The last thing he wanted 

was for someone to worry about him.

He never asked for a thing

but he was the first to offer a helping hand.

My cousin, Tyler, got married two days after Scott passed away.

He and his lovely bride were married in the Idaho Falls Temple.

After the ceremony, my aunt, Tammy, was in tears.

It was an emotional time for all.

My mother asked her what was wrong.

She said that he had felt the presence of my grandfather there...

as well as the presence of my uncle.

He was at peace.

From that moment on, 

I knew that he had found the peace that he longed for.

I also knew that my grandfather was with him that night.

He was not alone.

A father would not leave his child alone in such an hour of need.

Just as our father, our Heavenly Father,

will never leave us alone in our darkest hour.

At my uncle's funeral, 

there wasn't the same sense of peace as at my grandfather's.

There was some bitterness.

Not only towards my uncle, but towards other family members.

There was a lot of finger pointing and blaming.

Even during the service, it was painfully obvious to see the family divided.

I was sitting at the piano in front of everyone.

But I was hidden behind a television.

I was playing the piano as my contribution to the services.

No one could see me.

But I saw and felt everything.

Including the presence of my uncle and my grandfather, 

standing in the back of the chapel.

They were watching, observing...

But there was a peace about them.

I'm not psychic or a "sensitive" as seen on tv.

But I am sensitive and as I have gotten older,

I have been able to understand it more.

But even though I know that he is at peace,

I still need to allow myself to mourn.

What's done is done, what's passed has passed.

No sense in blaming, pointing fingers or being angry.

The time has come to heal and look to the future,

And pray that we have learned from what has happened

in hopes that it may not happen again.

Thanks for letting me purge in a healthy way,

and not in the way of super models.

One of my favorite quotes ever is:

We write to experience life twice.

Once in the moment it occurs,

and again in the form of a memory.

(I'm pretty sure I slaughtered that quote...but you get the point.) 

PS - Ok, so this was not one of my more entertaining posts. Needless today, death is a heavy subject that is hard to not only talk about, but write about. But, there were some funny moments to the day of the funeral. As we were walking from the mortuary to the cemetery, Jeremy, Heather, Hannah and Jack found us. Once Jack was awake enough, he started to wave to us. After the grave dedication, Jeremy and company had to leave to go get their older girls from school. As I was turning to say goodbye to Jack, he kind of glared and gave me a thumbs down! His thing lately is to give a thumbs up to everything. But not at the moment! He gave his disapproval, and then waved goodbye. I still laugh just thinking about it. Also, thanks to Gary, my uncle's friend, the eulogy was NOT boring. Good times...good times. 

Oh Canada!

Well everyone, we made it. We managed to make it through another Olympics. It's hard to think that the 2010 Vancouver games just started two weeks ago, and now they are over and we have to wait until 2012 for the London games. We have had a great time watching the Olympics at my house. Every night after dinner, we turn on the games and watch them until 10:30 at night and then sometimes stay up and watch the late night stuff. Needless to say, there hasn't been much sleep the past few weeks at the Rohde house, but it was worth it.
Can you believe that it's been eight years since the games were here? That was us putting on the shows and trying to handle the chaos. My mother even learned to tap beer...on a Sunday...for Scott Hamilton! (Ok, he didn't get a beer, but whoever he was with did.) All the things that were learned and shared during that time...but I wasn't here. Nope! I was in Price doing King Lear at CEU. I missed the insanity and had to watch it all on TV on the late night rerun. But my mother had a great time and really enjoyed it, as did most of the volunteers. 
It's strange to think of all of the events that have occurred over the last eight years. Weddings, births, graduations, missions, funerals, surgeries...and we made it. By the grace of God, we made it. There have been many times where our faith in God, other people and ourselves has been tested. We have been through struggles that we never thought we would and prayed we wouldn't have to. But we made it. One step at a time, we made it. Be it by luck, karma, or by the sweet mercy of the Lord, we survived. And we came out stronger. 
I think the reason why I love to watch the Olympics is to see the human spirit try to over come adversity. We love the underdog stories of those who came from nowhere and melted our hearts. Like the poor luge athlete who died on the day of the opening ceremonies, or the strong Canadian figure skater who lost her mother out of the blue two days before competing and she took the bronze. Or the four man bobsled team that has ties to Park City. And who can forget my someday husband, Apolo Anton Ohno. I love him...and someday, he may love me too! 

(See? He's even holding my favorite beverage!)

So for now, we must bid adieu to the 21st Olympic winter games and go back to our normal, hum-drum lives...until the 2012 London games start in 18 months!  

House Cleaning = Nesting?

(My laundry room/kitchen)

My husband can be a very silly man sometimes. Today after church, and after a wonderful Sunday afternoon nap, I started doing some laundry. I cannot tell you how thankful I am that I have a washer and dryer here IN MY APARTMENT! I know that I have mentioned it before, and I will continue to mention it. After living without one for over a year, it becomes a selling point. I fell in love with this apartment the moment I saw it. And this baby was what sold me.

Anyway, I was doing some laundry to get work clothes ready for the week. The Mr asked if I was ok. I said yes and asked why. He said that I was "nesting" and it concerned him. So...discuss. House cleaning = nesting? Or just taking advantage of the amenities in my home? He's cute. I'll keep him.

Class Act

I think Conan O'brien said it best. Work hard, be kind and anything is possible. I heart you Conan!

Christmas Shoes

 I know, I know. Christmas was over almost a month ago. But some stories are good year round. And as there are many people who have asked for this, here it is. The story of the Christmas Shoes!

 About ten years ago, a Christmas song was released called "The Christmas Shoes". It's a touching song about this business man who is at the store on Christmas Eve. He is standing in line behind this little boy who is trying to buy some shoes for his mom because she is dying and needs a new pair of shoes to wear when she meets Jesus. The man in line is so touched by this moment, that he buys the shoes for the boy, who didn't have enough money. Then there is a chorus of children singing "Sir, I want to buy these shoes for my momma please. It's Christmas time and these shoes are just her size. Could you hurry sir? Daddy says there's not much time. Mom's been sick for quite some time and I know these shoes would make her smile..." blah blah blah.

Now, for those who are keeping track at home, I am not a heartless person. This is a touching song. It's based off a book by the same name and even had a Hallmark channel movies made about it. I have heard a similar story, but it's from the little boy's point a view, many years later. It is precious that a little boy wants his mom to be happy and have something respectable to wear when she passes on. I get it...

HOWEVER...

The two radio stations here in Salt Lake that become Christmas Central from the beginning of November until New Years plays this song a lot. And I mean A LOT! Ad nauseum! To the point, that about 4 years ago, my own mother said something that I never would have expected to come out of her mouth.

We were on our way to a store one November afternoon, and the Christmas Shoes song came on the radio, for about the fifth time that afternoon. I was very adamant about changing the station when my mother yelled out "Your momma don't need no shoe! She dead!" We had to pull over to the side of the road because we were laughing so hard! Why were we laughing? Well, DUH! My mother only spouts gold like that in rare times. I was laughing so hard I was crying. We were telling that story for the next year, and still laughing just as hard.

The next year came around and through a series of e-mails and conversations, my mom and I decided that we need to have a contest. We were going to present each other with some Christmas Shoes. However, there were, and still are, some strict guidelines for this. The main rule was that they were to be as ugly and gaudy as possible. Why? Well, whenever we think of Christmas Shoes, we think of cheap shoes with more bling then Mr. T could ever imagine. Think of something that your crazy great aunt would find at the Fashion Bug or TJ Maxx. So the contest was on! And ever since then, each year has gotten a little more crazy and a little more blingy.

So this year, I was pretty sure that I had won. I had spent days going to fabric and craft stores. I couldn't find gold glitter anywhere in the valley, until I found a Wal-Mart that's find of hidden away. There I found all of my supplies and spent that evening with some Mariah Carey Christmas music and a hot glue gun. So, with that said, I present my creation for Christmas Shoes 2009!

That's right, friends! There is fringe, glitter and bells! I took a nice, regular red ballet flat and transformed it into a work of art! This is something that my momma could wear to meet Jesus and these would get her into heaven! I was so proud of my work. I even received some pumpkin bread that was wrapped in some plastic and the little gold sparkley ornament. There were two. I hit the jackpot.

HOWEVER...

On Christmas morning, I opened the Christmas Shoes from my mom. And yet again...I was left speechless. I have never seen something so hideous.


We called it a tie.

Stay tuned for next year's edition of the Christmas Shoes. It is bound to be bigger and better.

Huh

So sad...and yet I couldn't resist!

Hello? Is anyone there? We have a 7:15 appointment!

     These photos were taken the day after Kiddie Kandids closed their stores. The creepy thing is that since no one was told that this would be happening, the computers were still on, the appointment book still opened on the counter and a sale sign that was advertising a 40% off sale that was to run until today...January 17th. Needless to say, that didn't happen! I was very irate to learn that none of the employees were going to be getting the paycheck that they had already earned! And they were told via e-mail. The dirty dogs that couldn't at least plan for that should be taken out behind the barn. Now if people want their paycheck, they have to go to court to settle it. It makes me sick. 

   But, as Mike and I are sick-minded people, we took this photo at South Town Mall. People were walking by, a little confused, but still laughing. It's sad to see that the world is coming to in these rough economic times. I hope the employees can find something soon.

    On a happy note, baby brother got married this past weekend. It was a wonderful day filled with good times, amazing food, and spiritual enlightenment. I will be posting more about that another time. As for now, have a great week and I hope to see you back here soon!