Traditions

Our granddaughter Carmen has been gone for almost two years now. She would be 10 if she were still with us. It struck me today, during a discussion at Church, that the reason I can feel some peace about losing her is that I believe in happy endings. I think the Lord is a "romantic" of sorts. He plans these happy endings for all who will look to Him and trust in His decisions. I have faith that her passing will somehow work to the good of all of us, including her. But I miss her.

While we were visiting Seattle, I saw a poem written about Carmen by my granddaughter, Gemma. Gemma and Carmen are the same age and were great friends. I was so touched by Gemma's poem that I'm including it here.

I am nice and imaginative
I wonder if I'll ever see my lost one again.
I hear the ocean's voice
I see a girl smiling outside my window
I want my Carmen back
I am nice and imaginative.

I pretend that there is an angel by my side
I feel sad about a meaning that just got worse
I touch a cobra
I worry that I will get turned into soap
I cry for my Carmen
I am nice and imaginative.

I understand that people can turn to soap
I say there are futures that are real
I dream that Carmen smiles to me
I try to play violin
I hope for a million guinea pigs
I am nice and imaginative.
(by Gemma Gendreau)

For his eagle project, a scout in Reed and Dorothy's ward decided to build a bench in Carmen's name, to be placed at her elementary school. He held a fund raiser at the Digger's restaurant in Brentwood last Monday night. We piled into Audrey and Cliff's big car and drove there for dinner. The place was packed, mostly with people responding to the fund raiser. I'm so amazed at the outpouring of love for Carmen, even now. Her life, and her death, has rippled through this amazing community in a wonderful way. Brentwood has endeared itself to us.

When I was a little girl, we visited Colorado every summer, during Daddy's vacation. Our grandparents and great-grandparents lived there. My great-grandmother, Eva Halfacre ("Gram"), made wonderful cherry pies. Her cherry orchard provided the most important ingredient. Gram cooled her pies in the window sill, just like you see in the story books. Her daughter, my grandmother Margaret, also made wonderful pies. My mother caught the knack of delicious pies as well. Pie is our family thing. It is the favored dessert. I like to think that I inherited a pie gift as well. My girls have only a passing interest in the family gift. But some of my granddaughters have shown an interest. Rayne is an excellent pie maker.

Our daughter-in-law, Jessica, called me this week and asked me to teach her kids to make pie. It seems her daughters, Alexis and Jacqueline, want to learn the art. So the whole Ben-Jes gang came over on Saturday for pie lessons. All five of the kids began the lesson but Alexis and Jacq managed to endure to the end. We made the pastry and then homemade pudding for the filling. Their pastry turned out tender and good (the secret to good pie). I was proud of them. So perhaps there is hope for the family pie tradition to continue. Yes, I know, pie isn't the most important tradition in a family, but a pie thread weaving its way through our family is a sweet thought to me.

Top picture is of Gemma and her brother, Miles with their pet guinea pig. Middle picture shows
granddaughters Abigail (with the binky), Jacqueline and Alexis. Bottom picture is of Jacqueline and brother William rolling our their pie pastry. It turned out tender and tasty!