Sunday, May 30, 2010
Friday, May 28, 2010
Freaky Friday
BUT--we are taking a break (even though it's going to be rainy and 40 degrees for the next 4 days) and heading to camp in West Yellowstone for 3 nights and spend Saturday in Jackson, Wyoming. We are heading out in an hour or two. I will post pictures from our campground's wifi when I get a chance. Wish you were here ! ;)
Happy Memorial Day, everyone. I've been so emotional lately, I almost cried when the sweet man from the VFW handed me a crepe paper poppy today at the grocery store. God bless our military men, past and present. And an extra measure of gratitude for my ancestors this weekend--I am the culmination of a lot of great teachings, sacrifices, genes, etc...I hope I can live up to it all!
Monday, May 24, 2010
All God's Children Need Travellin' Shoes
Johnny was a peculiar guy
Brought up on love and the reasons why
but the reasons why ought not to be said
and so I'm left hands held to my head saying
I love you
It's a beautiful,beautiful, beautiful thing
It's a beautiful, beautiful thing
Chances, changes are all that you have
As you take the hard stuff lie on your back
The smoothness, strangeness fits like a glove
But the comfort of tease still rises above saying
I love you.
But is it possible, possible, possible babe?
Is it possible for me and you?
Gold and waves and Betty Blue are the images that lead
to the clues of why
I can't love you
It isn't possible, possible, possible, babe,
It isn't possible for me and you.
Friday, May 21, 2010
If they don't dance then they're no friends of mine
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Recent Photos
Tell me these mountains DON'T make you want to sing, "How Great Thou Art"--
A view of the festivities from the river
(you can see the pirate ship tree house we built last year there on the left, and the covered foundation where my inlaws will rebuild a house there center-right).
The kids can't wait to dig into Christina's birthday cake.
***
***
Next is a series of pictures of my kitchen. On this particular day, the kitchen was making me kind of crazy because everything was so cluttery. But then I thought I would take pix to show myself that THIS IS LIVING--we are LIVING in our house, and the mess is good.
This is my Mexican Pig. I love him. I bought him at a Mexican warehouse-type store in Tucson with my Grampy. To the left of Mr. Pig is the courting candle my inlaws brought back from Amish country and a jar of sand and stones from the beach at Lowestoft, England.
My medicine cupboard, of which a nephew once said, "Holy crap, this looks like some hippy cupboard...just tell me where the frickin' advil is!"
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Meet The Tribe
At some point in 1988, I met Rob Buchert, who was serving as a missionary in east Tucson (my hometown). My friend Paul’s dad was the ward mission leader and we had many friends with varying levels of interest in the gospel (“Is that was makes you guys so crazy and fun? I thought it was drugs…”), so we had lots of interaction with Elder Buchert and other missionaries. Paul and I stayed in touch with Rob (and Brian Jacobson, aka “Jake”) after his mission, and even got to meet his future wife, Georgia, while visiting Provo on Spring Break 1990. On said spring break, I made arrangements to move to Provo (I was “on a break” from college, having left Ricks college at winter break), registering for Spring term at BYU and UVSC, looking for a job, etc. Shortly after I moved, Georgia taught me how to earn my supper at the Krishna restaurant, introduced me to many good friends, and generally got me off on good footing in Provo. In August of that year, many loved ones gathered to celebrate the wedding of Rob and Georgia in the Salt Lake Temple. This is where I met Rob’s entire family, the nine-member band of creative genius tow-heads from Canada called the Buchert Tribe. They looked exactly like the poster for the movie, “Village of the Damned” (which we always called “Village of the Bucherts”). Many of Rob's siblings match up in age with mine, so it was easy to remember names and ages, and indeed, to adopt them as a second family.
Rob’s next-younger sister, Regina (known as Jeanne, pronounced “Jen”) had decided to live in Provo and was in need of a roommate. Georgia pulled some strings and found a newly-renovated basement apartment in west Provo that was perfect for us, so in August 1990, Jeanne and I moved in with Mary and started our official Provo life. We went to school, we went dancing, had parties, filched flowers, watched lots of Twin Peaks and In Living Color, rode bikes, saw bands, got death threats from our landlady, fell in and out of love, fought with our psychotic neighbor/neighbor cats, and grew up ever-so-incrementally over the year we lived together. That summer I moved to Frankenhaus and Jeanne moved home, but the following fall, I needed a quiet place to live and Jeanne needed a roommate at One Sixty-Nine, so we were reunited.
The 1991-92 school year was much more peaceful as Jeanne and I took school and church a little bit more seriously and settled in to reading, creating, planning our lives, and writing to our missionary brothers (Martin Buchert was in Germany—Frankfurt, right? and Willy Post was in Michigan Lansing, which coincidentally encompassed the U.P. stakes of which the rest of the Buchert Family were members). I worked as the soup-n-salad girl at the Smith’s Deli, then as an aid in Ms. Butler’s 5th grade at Maeser Elementary. I decided to go on a mission in February 1992, but wouldn’t be 21 until the following September. With my decision, however, I think the missionary spirit sort of settled over our apartment and things changed—improved—from then on. We made better friends and better choices. We invited the Spirit more and were kinder to one another and people around us. It was a very good season for us (well, I’ll speak for myself, but I think Jeanne would agree). In June, I went home to Tucson to prepare for my mission, but not before Jeanne and I hosted our little sisters on their spring breaks—Jeanne’s sister Heidi, who was 19 and in that silly Canadian grade 13, and my little sisters Dana (14) and Jill (12 ½). It was sad to say good bye to my “other family,” but I was excited to go get ready to serve. I got my mission call to the North Carolina Raleigh Mission (coincidentally encompassing Georgia’s hometown—her mama still lived there at the time in Kinston!) on July 18, 1992 and reported to the MTC on October 7th. I stopped and said good bye to Rob, Georgia, Jeanne and Heidi mere minutes before I went into the MTC and they were a fantastic support through the whole 19 months. Jeanne joined me in the field the next year, having been called to Brazil and re-routed to Texas for a time.
If you know the Bucherts, you know that they have marvelous minds. Each has some unique and brilliant talent, and most of them are gifted at the lost art of letter-writing, which happens to be one of my greatest hobbies—I love snail mail!—so this combination helped me to get to know Georgia, Jeanne, Mama Ellen, and Martin much better than I would have otherwise. When I returned to Provo after my mission, Heidi was well-established there and Martin was on his way out west, too. At the end of summer, I decided to move in with Heidi at Rupper Five, which would prove to be one of The Top Five Choices of My Life (up there with serving a mission and marrying Rich).
People talk about Zions Camp and School of the Prophets in the early church as times of preparation. I think of my time at Rupper Five just that way. Or you could say it was like going from the rehab of a mission to the sober living house of Rupper Five. It was a lovely transition back into real life—IN the world I used to inhabit, but not OF that world. Martin moved in with one of my dearest friends from home, Erin moved in with me and Heidi, and all was right in the world. Oh, sure, we kept dating idiots and eating bad food, but we belonged to a super- fun ward (BYU 66th!) , we had the House of Fun boys to entertain/ hometeach us, and Rob and Georgia right down the street. Of course none of us realized how sweet it was at the time, how blessed we were—until is was over, and each of moved on to make some of the most important choices of our lives. Heidi, Erin, and Martin were all married shortly after the magical year at Rupper Five. I FINALLY decided that I HAD to finish my BA, so I moved home to Tucson, buckled down, and gotter done over the next two years (and had some very choice experiences there, too). Luckily, these years brought the advent of email, and Georgia remained a great pen-pal (keyboard-pal?) and kept me up to date on Tribal Doin’s. The best thing that happened while I was in Tucson is that the whole Tribe—ma, pa, Johanna, Anneliese , and Chris—relocated to Provo! Lucky, lucky Provo! It was nice to be able to visit everyone together when I ventured north. There was a wonderful, short window when everyone was in town—wasn’t that fun? Grandbabies began to arrive, and it was so nice to feel like an auntie to them as well as my own nieces and nephews.
I never had a Buchert roommate again after Heidi (although Johanna certainly would have made a good one—our college years overlapped a bit, I think), but we have stayed in close touch. Now that we have all scattered and are deeply engrossed in the work of family life, visits (and calls, and letters) are fewer and further between, but the Tribe’s influence remains a constant in my life. I suppose at this point, as I try to be the best mother I can be, Ellen’s (Mama Buchert’s) influence has become very important to me. I think about how I always feel totally loved and accepted in her presence, and also how I feel free. I watch her as she works or plays with her grandchildren (and my children) and I see so many ways I can improve if I want my child rearing to produce results that resemble hers. I see so much “joy in the journey” when I watch Ellen—so much more process over product—and I recognize that this is my weakness. I was born and have lived much of my life in an anxious rush to Be Productive--to “EARN” my place or the love I need. While I do recognize the value of Getting Things Done, there is a peace and a whole side of life one misses, the side of life that is not on anyone’s checklist or calendar, when one is busy Getting Things Done. Art and music and personal revelation and strong relationships and unconditional love have a hard time happening while you’re Getting Things Done. I’m just sayin’.
Some of Ana's beautiful creations--every Buchert makes beautiful things.
[Ana & Jacob in Hawaii]
I feel like the luckiest woman alive when I think about how I’ve been blessed with an intimate view of so many different ways of living and raising a family. Having been a part of my family of origin, then on the fringes of the Buchert Tribe, and now a Melin, I am reaping all the wonderful fruits from each of these families, blending them with who I have become and who I want to be, to produce what I hope will be a “hybrid family”—a family that enjoys blessings and broad perspective of all that Heavenly Father has placed in my path over my thirty-year journey to motherhood. I feel practically crushed with the emotion of thanksgiving when I look back at God’s hand in these relationships—all I did was kinda blindly follow what felt like good ideas at the time—and who knew that twenty years later, we’d still be together, thick as thieves, forever friends? Not me, but I am so thankful.
[Mama Ellen with Georgia, 2010, courtesy of Justin Hackworth photography]
Sunday, May 09, 2010
Some Mothers
My girls and me right after Heidi's birth in 2004
Thursday, May 06, 2010
A Spoonful of Truth
I have always struggled with the fact that my outside doesn't match my inside, at least in the way our world judges things--I am convinced that my inside is a slim, bobbed-brunette, bespectacled, 5-foot-3-inch librarian/nun. But my outside has always been a taller, curvacious, squishy, sunny blonde. Hard to match up.
And since I finished nursing James in 2007 and all the hormones settled in and the Graves Disease began to rage, that curvy body got even curvier, my head has ached excruciatingly almost everyday requiring a prescription which I rarely take because it makes me sleep and I don't want to miss even an hour of a day with my kids. The arthritis in my back and the disease in my system make each morning hard to face--I wake with the first burning pains between 3 and 4am and I flip on my heating pad. I start to pray that they will go away and I can make something of my day. I have found that if I skip my afternoon siesta (usually from 1:30-2:30), I have to sacrifice my evening because I will be (figuratively) face-down in my dinner plate. Exhausted.
At first I felt free to rest up because I was trying to "get well." But then it became clear that there is no "getting well", that this is my new normal--MY New Life--but the people around me seemed impatient for me to be well again. So I started pretending that I feel good everyday because that's what others need to think--that I feel good, that I am fine, that all is well.
And all IS well, but just for the record, I don't feel good. Ever. Whether or not I get all my exercise and supplements and medication and sleep, I will probably never feel good again. But I feel good enough. And I feel even better when I do the things my Spirit and my body want me to do. Sometimes meeting both needs--Body & Spirit--is like caring for two whiny, demanding children whose needs are at odds. My Spirit still has lofty goals and aspirations and good ideas and a desire to serve and learn and write, 24/7. My body would like 2 Excedrin migraine caplets twice a day with a Coca -Cola chaser, then fresh organic food, a yoga session, a massage, and 13 hours of sleep everyday. As you can clearly suss, it's a battle each day to just balance them out and do my thing. But the happy news is I AM NOT MY BODY. I will be judged on the desires of my heart--or, in other words, all the things my Spirit longs to do and be. To me, that really is good news.
FAMILY LETTER 07.28.19
Dear Loved Ones, We have just ...