Finding Family on Facebook

In October of 2010, I got the idea to make a list of all the descendants of my great-grandparents Michael and Xenia Greshko. These are the folks who immigrated to the U.S. around 1902 from Galicia, Austria and settled in Pennsylvania. They had 10 children, my grandpa Bill Gresko was their 7th, and I'd always been vastly curious about them and the whole family.

All genealogists say to "start with what you know," so I began by laying out the family tree with the 10 kids and their spouses. Then I wrote down my own aunts and uncles and cousins since I am in contact with most of them. That was a pretty big group! My grandpa's descendants have been very proliferative. I also knew the daughter of my grandpa's sister (Joyce), so I got her address from my cousin, looked up her phone # with the online directory, and gave her a call. She was a delight, making me laugh with stories of her life in New Jersey. She was able to give me the info on her own family, that two of the Greshko siblings had not had any children, and the address of another of my grandpa's sister's sons. I sent this cousin a letter.

Lacking the patience to sit and wait, I began randomly searching names of relatives on Google, Dex directory, and of course, Facebook. My first success came with my cousin Andy Greshko. Somewhere in my mind, I'd stored that my first cousin, Michelle, had met one of our Greshko relations when she lived in Georgia. I even remembered that her name was Cheryl, so I began searching for "Cheryl Gresko or Greshko" on Facebook. I found a Cherie Greshko living in Georgia and sent her a message asking if she could be related. I also checked her friend list and saw that she was friends with an Andy Greshko, which is the name of the youngest Greshko child. I sent him a friend request, too.

Andy was the first to respond with this message: "Howdy from your Eastern cousins!"

Cherie quickly jumped on once she saw Andy and I were friends and I had a joyous couple of days sharing info back and forth. Their dad died very young and they didn't know much about the rest of the family, so they were eager to learn more. It was especially fun to me to learn that Andy has a daughter who looks exactly like our Aunt Alice! I told them about my search and they filled me in on their immediate family and were able to give some clues about others.

My next success came with an email from the cousin I'd sent the letter to: Jason Carriere. Jason told me he'd "google searched" me after receiving my letter and learned all about me from my blog! He and his wife were willing to get to know the rest of the family and to help with my quest. I asked them if they were on Facebook (they were) and they quickly accepted my friend requests. It was wonderful to see pictures of their kids and to learn their likes and interests so easily. I encouraged them to take a look at my profile, too. Jason was able to help me locate his only other Greshko first cousin (on Myspace) and to fill in the rest of his family. He and his wife are funny and smart and have two beautiful kids and we're all hoping to meet in person soon!

By this time, December was quickly approaching and I was preparing my Christmas cards. I also started making the descendancy list document that I hoped to send to everyone. I "friend requested" all of the cousins and sent messages asking for their mailing address. Everyone responded - it was amazing!

It was now the first week of December, and I had found all the family except for that of my grandpa's older brother Pete. I had the names and birthdays of his 5 children. The only lead I had was a letter from his daughter Carol to my grandparents written 12 years earlier which located her in Bullhead City, AZ. I sent a letter to the address on the envelope, but ...nothing. I contacted my dad's sister, Myrna, who is also a genealogist, and she told me that Carol was near her daughter and her kids in Apache Junction, AZ. Repeatedly searched sites all over the internet, again, with no luck.

One day on Facebook, I was randomly searching for the 5 names of the kids (again) when I found a "Peter Michael Gresko" whose age matched the age of the son. I sent him a friend request explaining who I was and asking if we were related. He also had a "Carol Gresko" among his friends, so I sent her a message, too. After two anxious days of waiting, Pete accepted my friend request. Once he did, Carol quickly responded and sent me a message. "I saw that you are friends with my brother Pete and that you have Gresko in your name. Are we related?" "YES! I think we are!" I replied.

Over the next few days with Carol's help, I was filled in on a whole line of family that I had known nothing about: 30+ descendants. Many of them were on Facebook and quickly accepted my friend requests. I finished the descendancy chart, printed it out, and sent it along with my own Christmas letter to 33 Greshko families. Over the last month, I have received Christmas cards back from many of these relations, often with a note thanking me for the chart and for finding them. I was tickled to receive a photo of my cousin Jason and his family and to see that he has the same dark, curly Gresko hair that my dad and Grandpa have! Several of the families have twins (which runs in the family) and so many of the boys have the classic Gresko "look" - very handsome men!

Thinking back on this whole process, it is just amazing to realize how quickly I found everyone, especially in genealogy timelines. In less than two months, I found over 50 people that I had known nothing about and was able to contact them and receive replies back. I've seen pictures of them, learned about their interests and families, and been able to establish a connection that I plan to nurture in the coming years. I am so grateful for the men in the family who were the first to respond to my friend requests, and the women who saw those friendships and quickly jumped on board to give information. How blessed I have been by this whole experience!

I spent Christmas with my dad and while we were there, I signed him up for Facebook. "It was the men who responded first, Dad. You've got to be on there so that we can find our family."

He happily agreed.

In Memory of the Provo Tabernacle

Early on the morning of my 40th birthday, the Provo Tabernacle caught fire. The irony of it was that just shortly after learning this, I received a cello for my birthday -- a wish that first began in the Provo Tabernacle.

Over a decade ago, I was sitting in the Tabernacle listening to a concert by the Utah Valley Orchestra. There was a flier advertising an orchestra for people over 40. You had to be new at your instrument and you had to be over 40. I thought how much I wanted to learn to play the cello, but I was in the midst of having kids and raising a young family and so I decided, "When I turn 40, I am going to learn to play the cello and join this orchestra." In the years since, I have held onto that goal, and as my 40th approached, I made it very clear that for this birthday, I wanted a cello. In my mind, I could see myself on the raised platform in the Provo Tabernacle playing with the orchestra.

So it was the ultimate irony to receive that long-awaited cello at the same moment that the source of that dream was going up in flames. This year of 2010 seems determined to demonstrate the law of opposition for me. Did you know that my mom passed away on my 20th wedding anniversary?

The Tabernacle has been a place of important happenings for me: the aforementioned orchestra concert, our family's first Meridian Vespers Christmas performance, multiple stake conferences, a Messiah Sing-along, and most recently, my son's high school graduation. It was a place where significant things happened: events that celebrated accomplishments and evoked the Spirit of God and caused me to pause in the daily grind of life to celebrate that which is better. I was able to play the organ in the Tabernacle; an intimidating yet heady experience.

I think it is appropriate that last night at the memorial concert for the Tabernacle that I could not stop the tears from flowing. It may have been just a building, but it was also the place of some of my most tender memories. I will mourn its loss and rejoice in the experiences there that meant so much to me.

Read the story of the concert last night

The Forgotten Carols

We went to see Michael McLean's "Forgotten Carols" last weekend. It has been probably 18 years since David and I saw it as a young married couple. I remember we loved it, but that doesn't come close to describing the experience we had on Saturday. It might be that we are a little older, that we have experienced more of life and love and loss. From the first song, I was completely immersed in the Spirit of the Lord. It was confirmed overand over to me...Jesus Christ is real, His story is true. He loves you, believe in Him, follow Him, serve Him.

Our daughters were enthralled, and have been listening to the songs on the CD over and over since. If you haven't seen it, go. Do whatever you have to to have this experience.

Merry Christmas!

Another one down

I turned down a job offer yesterday.

This is the second one since Meridian closed suddenly in August and I found myself unemployed and my kids without a school. The first was a nursing job that I was seriously considering and even took steps towards, but then my mom passed away and when I came back from Arizona, the job just didn't seem like the right thing to do.

I am at home....which causes mouths to gape open in disbelief when I explain that's what I'm doing now. Maybe it's the frenetic, whirlwind pace I kept working fulltime at Meridian the last 6 years that explains the reaction. Or the passion with which I worked. I was so committed to Meridian and the things I (and all of us) were doing there that maybe people thought it was the job.

It was really about my kids. I would do whatever it takes to help my kids, and my kids needed Meridian and that meant I needed to work, so I learned the skills I needed to learn and did the things that needed to be done so that my kids could be there. And it was wonderful.

But now my kids need me at home. They need me to drive them to school in the morning and pick them up after. They need me to volunteer as the reading group leader and play the flute in the Christmas program and do the girls' hair for the ballroom dance concert and cheer at every basketball game. And I want to be there.

When I got home, I told David about the experience. I said, "What I am is a professional mom. My family is what I'm passionate about and where I want to invest my time and talents and energy. And I only have 10 more years to raise my kids and I don't want to miss anything."

He totally understood and supported me. (Bless him!)

So I'm home. And completely happy.

Ticket Update

So...I made the trade.

My good husband offered to take daughter #4 on a Daddy/Daughter date while the other three and I attended the MoTab/David Archuleta concert.

As he put it, "I think I would have more fun going on a date with my daughter than listening to David Archuleta sing." That sealed it and I made the trade. My tickets are now on their way to Kaysville & the new tickets will be arriving at my house on Sunday.

Thanks for your advice!

The Saga of the MoTab/David Archuleta Tickets

I was one of the millions of people who did NOT receive tickets to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir with David Archuleta Christmas Concert. I was pretty disappointed, so you can imagine my delight when a few days after the announcement, I received a card from my sister wishing me a happy birthday (my birthday is Dec. 17) and containing 4 tickets to the concert!

Enter the problem: the tickets were for Dec. 16 and daughter #2 has her ballroom dance concert that night. What to do? Maybe I could trade for another night? I posted my dilemma on Facebook and offered to trade my 4 tickets for another night. No takers.

Not ready to give up, I posed the same offer to the sisters in my ward during Relief Society. MANY were willing to take the tickets off my hands, but no one had received any themselves. One person suggested I try posting my trade on ksl.com - so I did.

By this time, daughter #1 had made the basketball team and had a game on Dec. 17, husband had meetings Dec. 19 morning, so my only available trade night was Dec. 18. I put that stipulation in my offer (Thursday for Saturday) but received only offers for Friday, Sunday morning & of course, "we'd be happy to use those tickets in your place." I also noticed quite a few offers to buy the tickets, but was focused on the trade.

Two weeks passed without success and I was beginning to contemplate other options: 1) skip daughter #2's concert & take some of my family on Thursday, 2) skip daughter #1's game & take some of family on Friday, 3) skip church & leave husband & one daughter at home and go to Sunday morning's concert, 4) sell? This was a bit of a dilemma for me because the tickets were free to begin with and it seemed a little off to get money for them. However, the tickets were also my birthday gift, and if I sold them, I could use the money to buy tickets to a different performance for my whole family. I really want to go to a performance and I really want all my kids & husband to come.

Yesterday, I received another offer from someone to take my tickets if I couldn't find a trade. I replied and asked if they would be willing to pay for the tickets. They replied back, " No thanks. You got the tickets for free and are not meant to be sold." I was a little miffed - it is no fun to be scolded, especially not by a stranger. I then checked KSL and Hurray! found a trade for Saturday. Within moments, I also got an email from someone offering $25/ticket.

Dilemma: do I make the trade and take 4 of my family on Saturday (leaving 2 at home)? or do I sell the tickets and go to a different show with everyone?

Black Friday

This morning I arose at the early (even for me) hour of 4:30 and headed off into the night to get a bargain on a Christmas gift.

Normally I shun this ritual - only once before have I partaken, and that was only to see what all the hubbub was about. I was completely unimpressed and have not ventured out again.

But this was a really good deal, and my husband said, "You'll do it, right?" So there I was at Walmart standing in a line with a MILLION other people. When I pulled into the parking lot, my stomach began churning when I saw that it was completely full. As I walked in to the store, I learned that some people had been there since midnight. Apparently my noble effort of arising at 4:30 am was child's play compared to these hard core shoppers.

At 5am, they began distributing the item I desired and at 5:04, I was faced with the ugly reality that I was the very first person NOT to get this item as they were all gone (supplies limited, you know?).

I stared in disbelief for a moment and then returned to my car. The radio announcer suggested some online shopping rather than facing the Black Friday crowds.

What a stellar idea.

On Salad...and other things

"Mom, you haven't posted since Halloween," said my daughter Kellie. "Yes, I did - I posted this month, see?" "But it was about Halloween, and now it's Thanksgiving, you need to post." "Okay, I'll do it." But it's hard to write a post when you don't know what to write about. Yesterday, it hit me. Post about salad. Yes, salad.

You see, I had a salad yesterday for lunch. A salad I made myself with my own hands. And even I was struck by the irony of the moment because for at least half of my life, I hated salad and refused to eat it.

I think it all began when I was a young girl and my job every night for dinner was to make the salad (and grate the cheese, but that is another story). I detested making the salad, number one reason: I knew I wasn't going to eat it. Why should I always have to make the one thing in the meal that I wasn't going to consume? But my mom persisted and the salad I did make.

As I entered my teens, and all my friends were eating salad because it was healthy and helped you be thin, I smugly consumed my powdered, jelly-filled donuts. Did I mention that I really hated salad?

As an adult, I flirted off and on with the salad consumption. All my friends would talk about this or that delicious salad they had made or bought at Wendy's and I thought, "Maybe this will be the salad I will like," so I'd try it. Inevitably, I would be disappointed. Salad just does not taste like donuts. But I was also having babies and worrying more about my health and I knew I needed to improve my veggie intake, so I'd force some bites down and pat myself on the back for the effort.

Oh, there are some "salads" I enjoy, but can you really call the salad at Cafe Rio a salad? Come on - it's mostly tortilla, rice, beans, meat, & cheese with a big hunk of lettuce stacked on top. I don't think that counts - but it is tasty and I have used it as a salad when necessary to appease my conscience.

This fall, I got serious about the lose weight/be healthy thing and went on the HCG diet. One of the great things (besides the weight loss) is that it cleanses the palette. This is a fancy way of saying that I was completely sugar overloaded and so natural food just didn't taste good to me. After two months of no sugar, I was pleased to find that fruits really were sweet...and yummy. And I also learned that I felt a lot better if I ate some veggies every day; hence, the salad for lunch. I still have to force myself to eat it (and a little cheese and egg on it help a lot), but I'm actually choosing on my own to make and eat salad.

And that is my post about salad...and other things.

If you want to know about the HCG diet, I highly recommend my dietician sister-in-law Becky who helped my hubby and me lose a total of 45 lbs. in two months. We look and feel fabulous! And we eat salad.

You go, girl

Right in the middle of cleaning my house today, I was suddenly struck with a longing for my Katie. She's only been off to school for a few hours, but I missed her.

She is my baby, but not really, because being the youngest, she is constantly striving to catch up to where the others are at. Only occasionally will she climb into my arms and let me snuggle her.

Katie is full of little "Katie-isms" that keep my chuckling. I do love to laugh, especially with my kids. Yesterday, we went to the dollar store to get a gift for a party and Katie used her tooth fairy money to buy a small tub of Noisy Putty. When we got in the car, she gave it a good squeeze and it let out a sound just like a fart. She laughed her head off.

In church, she was mad at Jenna for something and they were writing back and forth to each other about it. Jenna made a point which Katie had to concede to and she wrote "well (sigh)"...yes, she wrote the sigh in.

For Halloween, she wanted to be something scary. Originally, it was a vampire witch. I was hoping for a fairy. Then she moved to a chocolate chip cookie. Couldn't figure that one out. We settled on Astrid from How To Train Your Dragon, which ended up being perfect. She is spunky and sassy and gets to be tough and girlie at the same time. Her favorite parts of her costume: the double-bladed axe and the headband.

That's my girl.

Letters

Today I wrote about the last week of my mom's life.

I had lived through it, and talked about it with people, but I hadn't written it down and something kept telling me, "Write it down or you'll forget something." So I did. I typed for four pages--single space--and I cried some. But it was done. Then I printed it out and I folded it up and put it in an envelope.

I told my dad that I did this.

"What are you going to do with it?" he asked.

"I put it in my 'Mom's funeral bag'," I replied. That is a bag I received with some goodies in it from a friend and I put all the cards and notes and letters I got from people about my mom in it and then I put in the pictures that I printed out from the funeral, and now it holds the story of the last week.

Oh, and a letter I wrote to Stephenie Meyer, the author of the Twilight books. You see, she helped my mom, too, only she didn't know it and I thought she should.

So I wrote to her, too, and printed a copy to mail and a copy for me. To put in the bag.

So I will always remember.

Spirit of Elijah

I have been bit by the geneaology bug...bad.

It got me for the first time last summer. I spent weeks and weeks sorting through info from my grandmas and organizing it in my new computer program and then I joined ancestry.com and found two different family lines previously unknown that went back 4 generations. It was incredible.

Then, it was time for school to start and I had to set it all aside.

These past weeks, the symptoms hit again and I have been at it with vengeance. I even looked into getting a second bachelor's degree in Family History. Can you believe BYU won't let you get two bachelor's degrees? Bummer.

I have always suspected I'd be a family history junkie. I love to organize and put things in their proper order; and I LOVE my family. But it was never the right season of life, you know? I was having babies and working full-time and I just couldn't give it what it needed. But I thought it might be something I could get into. I was right. I cannot get enough.

This past week I am sorting through the Bass and Hogg families. I can still hear my Nana's voice talking to me about them and telling me she just couldn't get them straightened out and that I would have to do it.

Nana, I am happy to do so.

Passing

My mom passed away last week.

Often, it seems surreal. Could this have happened to me? to my family? to my mom?

My mind keeps fixing on certain moments: her hand clasping mine so tightly in the ER just days before she died. Her last breaths when all I could do was kneel by her side and sob and say "Mom" over and over. How she looked reclining in the front seat of my car while we looked at the fall leaves in Provo Canyon and felt the cool breeze.

People ask me how it was. Hard.

People ask me how I am. OK.

The law of opposition is so at work here. It is good that she is no longer suffering. It is sad that we can't see her anymore. I am glad to be home and caring for my children. I worry about my dad and wish I was there to help him.

Last night, we read the letters my mom had written to each of us. They were all so personal and so filled with love. I told my kids, "I know that Grandma still lives, because this much love doesn't just go away."

A New Life

I hardly recognize the life we have lived the last two weeks...it is so different from the past 7 years.

For the girls, it is three different schools and three different schedules. The biggest challenge so far: the sheer size. All of them have said, "There are so many people!" Jenna had us rolling at the dinner table as she described trying to navigate in the halls between classes where you "turn to the right and your backpack knocks into someone else's backpack which hits someone else's backpack. Your best move is to put your friend in front of you and just push them through the crowds."

Kellie likes her ballroom and yearbook classes, LOVES the cafeteria (but not the long lines), and is not too fond of her science teacher. She also almost missed the bus today, prompting her to decide to get up 30 minutes earlier than usual.

Alissa has been quickly making friends and has decided to play the cello. Today after school, she came walking out with a friend and as they parted, they gave each other a quick hug. Ahhh....I think she's doing well.

Katie has become the queen of the tetherball, along with Sonny, the king of tetherball. According to Katie, "We beat everybody!"

And me? I get up at 6:45 and spend the next hour and a half helping girls get ready for school and driving them down the hill. Then I go running. Then it's some housework and errands--my house hasn't been this consistently clean since we moved in. Today I helped Josh pack up his stuff to go to college. (sniffle) Starting at 1:30, I pick up girls from school and transport them home and to various activities and then it's dinner and homework. It is so different.

David and I have been encouraging the girls to make new friends. Alissa and Katie have had an easier time with it than the older girls. Today, Jenna said, "Mom, you're going to be proud of me in the friend department."

"Tell me," I said.

"In my mixed choir class, most of the people transferred in with a friend who they sit by. All of us who didn't just sit alone. Today I was sitting alone and saw someone else sitting alone and I got up and went over and sat by her and introduced myself."

"Jenna, I'm so proud of you!"

"Wait, it gets better. Right after I did that, a guy who had been sitting by himself got up and went and sat by another guy who was alone. I set a good example!"

I think we're going to be okay.

(In the picture, Jenna is running in her first cross country meet at her new school.)

Endings

When I was in nursing school, I got my first job as an LPN on a medical/oncology floor. It was the only job available and I was desperate for money. Like most nursing students, I wanted to go into obstetrics or pediatrics. Nobody says, "I want to work with the elderly and cancer patients."

But when I finished school, they wanted to hire me as an RN. I liked the challenge of the floor and the hours they were willing to give me, so I stayed, and guess what I found out? I have a talent for helping when it's time for things to end.

It's not a skill that you list on the your child's school information sheet when they ask you what talents you can share with the class. But it's invaluable when your neighbor who's caring for her terminal daughter calls you and says that something has "changed" and could you please come over and you get there and have to say, "Yes, she's close" and she passes away that night. People need someone at times like that who handle the hard things, and I can handle the hard things.

I'm finding my skill in much use these days as two essentials in my life are ending. The first isn't a person, but a place: Meridian School. I love this school. For the last 7 years, I have given my life to this school. And it is over. In the final moments, I had to say, "Stop trying to save it. It will not be what it should be. Let it go with dignity." I cannot tell you what it cost me to say that. I had to be strong and it was hard.

In the near future, this experience will be repeated with my mom, who I love more than I can express. I am grateful that I can be strong for her, can help as things come to an end; grateful that God gave me the skills to do so. I hope that she can pass with dignity and peace and that I can be there to help her.

It is difficult for me to talk about these things--my mom and the school--they are sacred to me because I have given so much of myself to them. I pray that God will increase my talent, increase my strength, that I might be able to do what must be done.

My mom and dad with Josh at his graduation from Meridian School in May.

Crying

A friend stopped me after church today to ask me how I was doing.

I started crying and said, "I want my mom!"

Now that the end is near, I find my desires becoming more and more childlike. How do you live without your mother?

My mom has been crying a lot lately. I have been crying, too. I feel....sad.

She wants to stay here with us, and we want her to stay, but that is not one of the options anymore.

Sob.

Summer

One month of summer is gone and I'm already feeling like it's rushing by.

I work like a whirlwind during the school year, so I've come to rely on the summer as a time to rest and refuel and do all the things that I have to put off the rest of the year because I'm too tired and I just can't do everything.

In this month, I've...

• caught up on my scrapbooking. Yes, I did. All six books current and cute (if I do say so myself). We couldn't eat at the table for 2 weeks while I worked, but it was worth it.


• cleaned my house. In the summer, my house is clean. Everyone does their jobs and I do more and it's so orderly that I never want to leave.


• read and read and read. I've been through so many books already that I can hardly remember what I've read. I'm actually a little tired of reading at this point - I need a break. :)


• put my house back together. Our remodel that began the first of May still lingers. I've painted the bathrooms and hung mirrors and had the carpets cleaned (so much furniture moving) - I even cleaned out David's office. The last things left are putting baseboards back and painting one more bathroom.

It is good. It is satisfying. Bless the summers for allowing me to just stay home. I'm always tempted during the summer to just quit working and stay home forever...but I know I'd soon grow tired of it and wish for something new. I need change.

So I'll just enjoy the moment and the joy of summer.

Making Plans

I am a planner.

I find it essential to my well-being and productivity to think ahead and plan what I (and my family) will be doing. Consequently, I have a very well-used planner that I always have with me that has writing on every single page (I prefer the old pen-and-paper method; it's just more satisfying to me than the electronic gadgets).

Today, my mom and I made plans.

What do you want to do as you get sicker? Be home with hospice or in the hospital?
Answer: Home with hospice.

Do you want family around as you get sicker?
Answer: I want my family to come and be with me, but I don't want anyone to do anything that makes them uncomfortable or afraid.

What do you want for your funeral?
Answer: I just want a graveside service, but I don't want everyone to be out in the heat (in Arizona). Just keep it simple.

What do you want for a casket/burial?
Answer: Don't spend a lot of money on it. It's just going in the ground. I'm not real particular about what city I'm buried in, just so long as your dad and I can be buried together.

These were hard plans to make because making them meant facing painful realities. We cried a lot...and after a bit, decided to talk about something else.

I'm glad we made plans. I'm glad I know what she wants and that she had the chance to tell me. I'm glad that we could cry together and plan for a future that isn't what we would choose, but one that we can face because we thought about it and talked about it and planned for it.

I think planning will give me strength for what is ahead.

My mom and I in 1974.

Cancer and Faith

There was once a woman with cancer. The cancer grew undetected until it weakened the woman, but once discovered, it was fought with courage and knowledge and most of all, faith. The cancer flowed at times, and ebbed at others, but at last, it seeped into new spaces with a speed that overwhelmed and frightened and pained the woman and those who loved her.

So, together, they clasp hands and pray and hope and love and look to God who is "aware of your sufferings and enfolding you in His arms."

A Joyful Graduation

Well, it happened.

My oldest child graduated from high school.

I don't think it has hit me because I didn't shed a single tear at the ceremony. A couple of people asked me how I was doing and if I was okay and honestly, I was doing great! I was happy for Josh and all the other kids, many I've known since 3rd grade. It was a cool ceremony - I wasn't even bored at all and usually, there is at least one speaker where I'm thinking, "Did we really need this one?"

I am excited for Josh and his future. I know he's ready to take the next step and move on with his life. And I don't have any regrets from his high school years because we went to everything that we possibly could: basketball games, soccer games, baseball games, drama productions, heck, I even went to his prom with a raging fever this year just so I could see the kids all dressed up (well worth it; I highly recommend it).

Maybe that's why there's been no tears. I know that he lived these past four years as fully as possible, and I was a part of that as fully as possible, and I feel satisfied and content. Like I've eaten a really good meal, just enough, not too much, and every bite was delectable.

I also know that this boy, my boy, will always be a part of my life.

So, no tears, just joy for all he's accomplished and for all his possibilities.

Josh at age 8 and ten years later at (almost) 18.

Payback

Josh graduated from seminary yesterday. It was such a satisfying moment, especially when I thought of all the mornings that he didn't want to go and we insisted that he go and I got tired of making him go. I admit it; there were times when I wanted to just give up the fight and let him have his way. I'm glad I didn't.

One of the speaker's joked with the kids that they were changing titles in the church. Whereas before they had been "young men" and "young women", they were now going to be (cue ominous music) "young single adults." Josh says he's okay with that.

Yesterday in Josh's church class, they asked for a volunteer to be in the hot seat. Josh volunteered. They then proceeded to ask him all kinds of questions about his future plans, like what he was going to do for college and mission and how he was going to live and support himself and a family. Our bishop told me that the leaders all expected Josh to flounder at some point, but he didn't. Josh told me it was because I had already talked to him about a lot of those issues and we'd discussed what he would do (I got a big smile there).

I think this week is going to be one of those gratifying ones where as a parent you get some good back for all the work you put in to your kids.

Yay!

The Worst Wisdom Teeth Story Ever

A friend of mine took her two sons to have their wisdom teeth out last Friday.

It was a local anesthetic, they didn't put them under. I personally think you should always be put under when you have your wisdom teeth removed. Here's a good reason why:

The dentist had his tooth extractor in position to remove the oldest boy's upper left wisdom tooth when the boy coughed. This caused the dentist to jerk and shove the tooth clear up into the fatty tissue of the boy's cheek.

Really.

The dentist then spend 35 minutes trying to find the wisdom tooth. He couldn't get it.

So he left it there. Somewhere in his upper cheek.

He said that they'll leave it there for two months and hope that gravity causes it to migrate back down to his jaw where they can take it out.

If it doesn't, they may just leave it there.

Wow.

A Worker Bee

When people ask me to describe myself, I say that I am a worker bee.

I get the greatest fulfillment from jumping into a task and working like a drone until it is finished. And thanks to the genetics from my Grandpa Gresko, I can work and work and work and work. When my parents lived with us, my dad and I took on the task of renovating the house and yard. My dad, who is a great worker, told me, "You can out-work me, Kris. I don't know how you keep at it for so long."

When I was in high school, I connected with the scripture in 2 Nephi that talks about "being an instrument in the hands of God." That's what I want to be, an instrument.

This morning, a friend sent me this poem and said it reminded her of me.

TO BE OF USE by Marge Piercy

The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half-submerged balls.

I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.

I want to be with people who submerge
in the task, who go into the fields to harvest
and work in a row and pass the bags along,
who are not parlor generals and field deserters
but move in a common rhythm
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.

The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real.

That is what I ask. Let me be of use.

Senior Sunday

Yesterday was Senior Sunday in my church.

Never heard of it? Neither had I until we moved into this house 8 years ago.

It is a fabulous tradition.

A couple of Sunday's before high school graduation, all of the seniors in the ward who are graduating are the speakers for the main meeting (sacrament). They usually get a topic from our church's "For the Strength of Youth" pamphlet, like honesty, accountability, etc.

It is by far one of my favorite meetings (the other being the Sunday before Christmas when we sing carols the whole time). The kids are so excited about life and they're heading off to college or missions and the sheer potential of their lives just gets me all giddy. There is also usually a musical number by the youth that is a "put goose bumps on your skin" kind of piece.

This year was no exception. And especially poignant for me because, well, for the first time, I had a senior.

Josh's topic was education. If you know me, you know that education is a pretty important thing at our house, so I wondered how he would approach it.

Josh talked about how our whole life experience is an education. That we have the opportunity to learn formally through school, but also the responsibility to learn from all areas of our lives. He talked about the three things he had learned in high school: 1. To love other people, 2. How to work, and 3. Importance of faith.

He really spoke from the heart. It was personal. It was real. And it was by far my favorite talk (and the best, too, I think, but I might be biased).

All 9 seniors spoke, and they sang "Homeward Bound" for their song. David cried through almost the whole meeting. I smiled and beamed and was so happy.

It was a good day.

Has anyone seen my glasses?

I got new glasses. Aren't they cute?

I haven't had new glasses in, like, 15 years. That's because I have always sworn I would be a contact lens person. I love contact lenses. It's almost like you're just a regular person. No one can tell they're in, there's not a circle of blur around the edge of your vision, they don't weigh heavy on your nose and around your ears. I've avoided lasik (surgery? on my eyes?) because I've had such great results from contacts.

No more.

Contacts rebelled against me last fall. I thought it was just from overuse, but as the months went by, I still couldn't put them in.

Turns out, I have almost zero liquid in my eyeballs. The doctor put this dye in that's supposed to take like 12 seconds to evaporate if your eyes are well-lubricated. My eye did it in one blink. The doc says that rules out contact lens wearing for me. He did give me a trial pack of the daily wear lenses to see if that would work. They lasted 5 hours.

So, now I'm wearing glasses and semi-seriously considering lasik.

What do you think of my new shades?

Can You Say Remodel?

About a month ago, we were sitting around looking at our house and thinking, "You know, we really ought to fix this place up."

This is not a new thought. We bought this house 8 years ago as a "fixer-upper" and zealously set to work and we did really well for a couple of years, but then we ran out of money and we got tired. So we put our blinders on and just lived with it.

We were going to replace the floors in the kitchen and dining room, just something small to start with, but that spread to replacing the countertops and then floors in the family room and basement and the bathrooms...and well, now I'm sitting in the only room on the main floor that is not torn to pieces.

The workmen are tearing out the tile floor we installed 8 years ago (why you ask? David did not like it). We must have done a good job because I have heard the word "jack hammer" tossed around a couple of times and one of the guys said "this is why I should have stayed in school."

I knew we were asking for trouble when we started on the bathrooms - the guys up there are pulling out floorboard and shaking their heads and saying things like "gonna have to pull out the whole thing" and "floor is sloping."

I may be messing up the workmens' vibe because before they realized I was here, I heard some profanity, but it stopped pretty quick once I was introduced. I can't leave--I'm sick, so I hope they find their mojo.

One guy said, "Pretty crazy, huh? It has to get worse before it gets better."

We shall see...

Photographer

I love pictures.

Taking pictures, editing pictures, scrapbooking pictures....pictures are just awesome.

So I was delighted when I learned that my husband was also into pictures. Well, into photography, and he was good at it.

Over the past 20 years, he has spent many, many hours and a lot of money developing his photography skills and in the process, I have benefited from his passion because I have fabulous pictures.

I was so proud when this book came out this week featuring over 20 pictures that my husband took when he went with the author hiking through Havasupai. There is even a picture of my husband taking a picture in the first chapter!

It is even more amazing because he had to backpack his camera equipment down into the canyon (60 lb. pack) and back up out.

Way to go, hon!

You can see more of David's work at his website www.legacyimagesinc.com

Run, Forrest, Run!

Perhaps you remember this line from Forrest Gump: "Run, Forrest, Run!" And Forrest takes off down the road and finds out that he is a speed demon and he runs and runs and runs.

That scene was running through my mind this week when my kids and I all ran a 5K. Not that I discovered I was a speed demon, but I was thinking, "Run, Kris, Run!" when my body was saying, "Stop, Kris, Stop!"

I haven't run (or even exercised) since school started last August. To say that I have been too busy is an understatement. So when Katie decided she wanted to run the 5K and she needed someone to go with her, I offered to do so with some trepidation. But hey, I thought, I ran for a good part of last year, I can do this.

All I can say is that it's a good thing Katie and her friends wanted to walk as much of the race as they ran. I needed the breaks as much as they did.

But we all made it, and we discovered that Alissa is a long-distance runner. She ran the whole thing in 28 minutes! Josh cruised (basketball & soccer have kept him shape) at 21 minutes. Jenna said that she was just relaxing and came in at 33 minutes and Kellie, who came in at 38 minutes declares that she's really a sprinter. Katie came in at 45 minutes and me, well, I'll take my 47 minutes and blame it on the two third graders I was responsible for who refused to run any more the last half mile of the run.

They needed me to protect them, right?

Note on my photo: I have been watching a lot of triathlons on TV lately and lots of them raise their arms triumphantly when they cross the finish line...so I did.

*Thanks to my journalism student, Muzna, for taking these great pics.

Victoria and Sweet Potato French Fries

I love how the Lord shows He's interested in all the little details of your life.

I had a student, a really fabulous student named Victoria who I just adore. She has had an amazing first year at BYU and is heading to London on study abroad next week.

For the last couple of weeks, I've wanted to see her, to say "hi" and give her a hug and tell her how proud I am of her. It's seriously been on my mind, so much so that I actually thought about asking her mom to bring her by the school so that I could see her.

But I didn't say anything. Because it seemed silly.

So instead, I went about my days and on the way to pick up Alissa from a friend's house, I had the thought, "You ought to stop by Guru's and get sweet potato french fries." No matter that I already had dinner waiting for me at home. No matter that sweet potato french fries are not on my current list of diet options.

But I listened, and got into the very long line at Guru's and lo and behold, who should walk by me but...Victoria.

I was so thrilled to see her and gave her that big hug and "hi" I'd been hoping to and well, it was just incredibly cool.

Afterwards, I was a little stunned, because you see, He cares about all the things in my life. The big ones and the scary ones and the overwhelming ones and the important ones and even the ones that aren't that big a deal at all.

And He throws in sweet potato french fries just to sweeten the experience.

Meet the Neighbors

Funny things happen when you go door-to-door asking for sponsors. Here's a few stories from Katie and Alissa as they have been getting sponsors for a 5K run they are in this week:

Katie: "Hello - I am going to be running a 5K to raise money for my school."
Neighbor: "What school?"
Katie: "Meridian."
Neighbor: "What kind of a school is that-public, charter?"
Katie: "It's a private school."
Neighbor: (snotty tone) "I thought private schools were supposed to be rich."
Katie: "We're on a tight budget, sir."

Alissa: "Would you like to sponsor me in a run for my school?"
Neighbor: "What kind of a school is it?"
Alissa: "It's a private school."
Neighbor: "Well, seeing as how yesterday was tax day and I have to pay taxes to support the public schools, I don't have any money to pay to private schools."
[door closes in her face]

Alissa knocks on the door.
Door opens.
Person takes a look at envelope in her hands and says,"We don't want to buy anything." Door closes.
Alissa to closed door, "I'm not selling anything."

And finally, a good one:
Alissa: "I am running in a 5K to raise money for my school."
Nice Lady: "What kind of a school?"
Alissa: "It's a private school."
Nice Lady: "Oh, I went to a private school. It was wonderful! What grade are you in?"
Alissa: "5th grade."
Nice Lady: "Oh, I loved fifth grade! What things are you studying?"
[Conversation continues sharing what they're learning and experiences.]
Nice Lady: "Well, here's $20 for your school, and I'll bet you're thirsty. Would you like a drink?"
[Nice Lady gives Capri Sun to Alissa]
Alissa: "Thank you."
Nice Lady: "Good luck!"

Thank you, Nice Lady, for being so good to my daughter and to all my neighbors who generously and graciously treated my girls so kindly.

Mom and Dad

It's really not fair to post this photo of my mom in her infamous blue robe, but I snagged this picture right before I left to come home from Arizona and it was early in the morning.

Mom and Dad....they have been the constants in my life. I cannot think of a single moment that they are not a part of, or at least the background to.

For them, family is everything, and I have a hard time explaining the strength that that gives me to go out into the world and try all kinds of things. I only know that I have tried to give that same feeling to my children hoping that they will feel the same empowerment.

When I worked in the hospital, one of the little old ladies I was caring for told me that her mother had recently passed away.

"I feel like an orphan," she said.

I must have given her a funny look (because she was 80+ and I was thinking she was too old to be an orphan) and she said, "No matter how old you are when you lose your parents, you feel like an orphan."

It's true. And I hope I won't know that feeling myself for a long time.

Love you, Mom and Dad.

Mystery and Eternity

We paid a visit to the Mystery Castle.

I was a little nervous because I had read two opposing reviews of it online. The first said it was the most interesting and favorite part of their trip. The second said it was creepy and unnerving and they would never take small children.

Hmmm....well, my children aren't that small, and this place is an Arizona landmark, and I read about it in a book and I wanted to see it, so off we went.

My girls were positive I was lost. First I went down Baseline, but then I thought, "No, I should get on a freeway (there are so many here to choose from), but after traveling south for awhile when I should have been going west, I turned around and came back to where I started from. Then we went west, but when we got to a key turning point, the road wasn't there, so we went east, all the way back to where we started from, again.

Finally, I called my mom and she said, "Go west. Go way west." So we did, and we found it.

It was not creepy. It was interesting and thought-provoking and it stirred the imagination. I wondered what my girls were thinking because they were very quiet. Afterwards, they could tell me every word that the tour guides said, so they were definitely paying attention. You can read about the castle here.

I bought everyone a soda to reward them for being patient with me while I drove back and forth along Baseline and then I said, "Let's go walk around the temple grounds."

I love the Arizona temple. It brings so many good memories to mind. Plus, it is gorgeous there right now and we got to see a bride and it smelled like orange blossoms.

We listened to the presentation on Jesus and sat and watched the water in the fountain and I asked Jenna why she was being a shlumpy teenager.

She said she wasn't and that shlumpy wasn't even a real word.

I said it was because I was using it and she knew exactly what I meant when I said it.

She rolled her eyes at me.

I chuckled and thought, "I'm so glad she's mine forever."

What an adventure!

We wanted to hike and we wanted to see cliff dwellings, so our plan for today was to go to Tonto National Monument.

I got the directions off their website, but was open to suggestions, so when my dad showed me his atlas and said, "Hey, this road is a shortcut," I responded, "Let's do it."

And thus began our adventure.

We were traveling on the Apache Trail going east from Mesa past three lakes: Canyon, Apache, and Roosevelt. As we drove along the very windy road, my parents kept saying things like, "I remember going on this road with my parents. It scared me to death." Why, you ask? Well, because for over 22 miles it is an almost one-lane dirt road through mountainous switchbacks. Not for the faint of heart (SEE 1st PICTURE).

My sister-in-law, Marne, who was following us in her minivan was scared out of her wits. We were up high on the rocks with sheer drops and blind turns. Apparently, she kept saying, "We're going to die!" Alissa, bless her faithful heart, answered repeatedly, "No, we're not." You always need someone to believe in you.

At one point, I thanked my dad for the great adventure. I told him I had looked online for a Jeep tour that would take us into the back country, but it was expensive ($45/person), so I'd ruled it out. Imagine my delight when we actually passed one of the Jeeps from the tour company parked at a scenic view area along the route. My dad saved me $225!

We went through washes and bumped along the road and saw beautiful scenery and finally made it to the Roosevelt Dam which is a piece of nostalgia for me (SEE 2nd PICTURE). My dad drove along the dam for many years as part of his mail route and my brothers and I would frequently accompany him. I'm telling you, that road to the dam and over it is downright scary and I have had many childhood nightmares about the dam breaking. The old dam is actually under water now because they built a new, higher one near it and let the water build up and cover the old one, but we could still see part of the road he used to drive on (SEE 3rd PICTURE).

Finally, we got to Tonto National Monument (an hour later than it took us to return home along the route I'd originally chosen) and after soothing our nerves with much repeated berating of Dad and laughter at our fear, we enjoyed the hike up to the cliff dwellings and the food we'd packed (especially the graham crackers covered in frosting). A great day!