I purchased my house just over 14 years ago in July and it was too late for a garden that first year, but you can bet that second year I was all in. Much to Paul and the boys dismay we had been gardening forever, prior to owning a home, I would come help plant, weed, harvest and prepare for food storage. We had been doing the easy stuff for years. Things like remembering to water, maintaining healthy soil, proper crop rotation, seed selection, I leaned heavily on my dad. And each year my garden has gotten a little bigger and a little better. Every spring it was our special planning session garden layout and design, which variety of tomatoes we wanted how to spilt the multi packs to get the best deals. Eventually I was trusted enough to go and purchase and divide the plants myself without specific lists and the post freeze enchilada sauce recipe was entrusted to me. And early each March as I start planning and humming Paul knows that while I am humming “The prophet said to plant a garden” I am singing My father said to plant a garden.
I am sure when I eventually sit down and give other’s a chance you will hear stories of what a great consistent provider my dad was and how he always served others. It was August and we had just finished building and moving into the dream house. Space and room for the five kids to grow and spread. Customizations and wishes granted. We had two water heaters and two a/c units! We had arrived! After months of cramped living in the tiny three bedroom apartment we were ready for space. And dad was let go from his job. We were in a heat wave but those a/c units were “broken” and didn’t start. I remember gathered together laying on the floor of the master bedroom fan trying to stay cool and my dad worried about how we were going to pay the mortgage, but school clothes and feed us. He was scared. I was scared.
It wasn’t easy for him to accept the help from the church that got those through those few months of unemployment. His pride was hurt he was the provider. But it was also the turning point. He showed us what it was to be humble and to serve with all your heart. I remember dad cleaning the church with such pride and care in exchange for whatever help the bishop was providing. And I know that from that point forward he took every calling with the most serious thought and care. When we were financially stable he was always the first to notice and know when other families were struggling. We started the 12 days to not just give back but I truly believe it embodied the pure love of Christ and serving our neighbors that had humbled my dad those months. I know he knew exactly what was happening with the families he was assigned to home teach and he prayerfully considers those in his quorum or his cub scouts even his nursery kids were prayed over.
It wasn’t work hard, play hard. It was work hard, serve harder and play.
Serving by building a room for his father-in-law what living independently was no longer an option. Serving by his post pandemic bi monthly Saturday visits to his mother to make sure her yard was taken care of, she was eating, take care of any house needs like installing shower bars and automatic curtains. Serving by hosting thousands of family parties. For playing Santa and making sure every cousin, boyfriend, girlfriend whatever had a present. I may be making this up, but I am pretty sure Santa visited Kiyna’s low income classroom a few times.
When I asked Paul what he wanted me to share he gave three stories. How he took in strays referring of course to himself, Paul’s belief that my dad didn’t know how to shingle a roof, and the time he lit my house of fire.
Paul jokes about taking in strays but that isn’t entirely untrue. Paul got to feel first hand the love and acceptance Dad would give to anyone in the family. Dad welcome Paul as his rough around the edge son who needed guidance, and he did a great job with retraining him. Dad has helped mold and shape Paul into being a great loving man, a hard worker, a provider. I don’t believe those descriptors would accurately describe the homeless, jobless man I tried to defy my mother with. Dad never questioned Paul’s previous children and eagerly accepted them into the fold as his own children. When we did foster care he was grandpa to all our kids equally as including them in the counts of grandchildren. When we were discussing how Dad could literally do anything and build a house from the ground up Paul said except for the roof. And I gave him a look because he was absolutely crazy, and Paul said he always made me fix the shingles. Dear husband, Dad could have fixed the shingles but we needed the money and he didn’t want you to feel like a charity case, he wanted you to earn it.
When we had been in our home about five years we decided it was time to finish the bathroom in the basement. It had the sink and shower, but needed tile and a toilet. Dad showed us how to tile, I think this was when he redid the blue bathroom and we tackled it together, honestly it turned out much better than anticipated we had a great teacher. Shortly after installing the tile we start noticing a wet spot in the hallway floor carpet. It grew and grew and eventually the entire floor was soaked. Clueless on how our tile install would have created such a problem we had dad come could to help solve the mystery. And after a great deal of sleuthing he discover the upstairs bathroom sink had a leak that had been dripping down the wall into the downstairs bathroom, this leak had previously just been contained in the bathroom and self draining but once we title and installed the toilet the leak was redirected and was no flowing under the wall into the carpet. The location of the leak was in the main beams of the upstairs floor in the wall. Dad was in the downstairs bedroom and Paul was in the bathroom as they tried to removed and repipe the leaky elbow. (This was before the shark bite plumbing fittings were popular.) Dad armed with the torch and soder and Paul was armed with the fire extinguished to put out the fire. Dad knew there was no way to repair this without a small amount of fire damage. And that is when my Dad and Paul intentionally lit my house on fire.
I’ve hit 4k words now if I am reading this directly without additions. And while I could easily say 4k more about when Dad became Grandpa I am sure there are others who would like time to share. So I will close with the final tender mercy I received last month. About three Sundays ago I was sitting in sacrament meeting when clear as day 7 year old Calder came to me and said, “Mom, I am ready to play with the 9 year old boy. I need him here for my birthday.” It knocked the wind out of me, I wasn’t ready. I had been trying for 20 years to give my dad a baby girl to hold a mini Kira and I just needed 4 more months. Could I please have 4 more months? And he firmly but gently told me we’d get Dad’s last birthday, but by his birthday it was his and Ollie’s turn. Last Wednesday, Calder woke me and told me it was the day, and that I needed to go buy peaches and say goodbye to grandpa because it was his turn. So I listened and found lemon albertas and went to say goodbye. Because my turn was over and there were people who have been waiting for his stories, forts, silly songs, and service on the otherside.
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