thomas family

Today, sacrament meeting was hard for me. When my 12 year old doesn't seem to remember she needs to close her eyes during prayers...I just want to scream. And then when she tries to argue, with her eyes!, her reasoning, I want to scream louder. It drives me absolutely crazy.
And I sat there and thought of all the things I was going to tell her...until the spirit touched me and I forgot my silent tantrum.

One of our high council members spoke on knowing our ancestors through temple attendance. He told a sweet story of his grandfather, his grandfather he had never known. This grandfather had large feet and so did his grandson (the speaker.) As he spoke, he got very emotional.
And since this morning, I've been remembering my grandparents.

Recently I purchased a set of cards that sit upon our dinner table. Each card asks a question. Most cards ask a question about family. Today, one card read: What is the best story you ever heard about your grandparents? We all took turns telling little stories. Lana told the story about Chris' grandma and how Chris told her she was fat. And then she slapped him. Someone liked the story about Uncle Brian spilling gasoline all over his face. (Not a grandparent, but a close family member. Maybe someday he will be a grandfather.)

I told a story about my maternal grandmother, Vella Bingham. (If I were to relive my 9 month gestation of Lana Lucille, I would rename her Vella. Just a little FYI. I also told the story of my mother, my children's grandmother, falling off a bike after making fun of a little girl. My mother broke her jaw. Then I told my children that's what happens when you make fun of others.)

My grandmother was beautiful. She was young when she met my grandfather at a dance. They married, secretly, when she was 16. No one knew. They went camping and slept in the same sleeping bag. All the family was aghast.

My grandmother also decided to go to the temple without her husband. He still needed to break some nasty habits. She left without him. But, he followed her, quitting those habits cold turkey, and they were able to be sealed forever. They gave this world 6 children. These children have 35 grand children. I can't even think of all the great ones.

When I was pregnant with Noah, Grandma Vella was sick. All her children, near and far, rushed to her bedside. All her grandchildren and great grandchildren, that were able, were by her side as well. They were there to be with this great women one last time. And because I was about to birth my baby boy, I was unable to touch her hand one last time, kiss her cheek and say my goodbye.

And it broke my heart. I remember sitting in my rocking chair, talking to my mom, hearing how my grandmother had passed away, and I cried with my mother. But I knew my grandmother was giving my little boy a squeeze. And that was good.

My grandmother with my grandfather and three of the six children.
My Aunt Jan and my mom (right) with her twin sister Judy.
After my grandfather saw this photo, he vowed to never pose for another portrait.
(I think Lana looks like my mom.)

My grandma was a strong women. She ran a real estate business. She taught Gospel Doctrine for years. She had strong opinions. She was generous. She collected dolls. She made her daughter's dresses and their dolls' dresses. She painted. She made delicious orange rolls. Her favorite color was violet. She didn't let her grandchildren play spoons with her silverware because she was worried we would bend them.

A small painting by my grandmother

She also had very fat feet and ankles. She didn't wear real shoes. She couldn't find any that fit her feet. She mostly wore slippers.

I have heard many say I resemble my grandma. And I'm flattered.
But I'm saddened every time I have to look at my ankles.
Because I have none, and I cross my fingers that I'll always be able to find shoes that fit.