Missionary Thanksgiving

This is our first Thanksgiving away from Kiarra and after much Pinterest and Google searching and hunting....I concluded none of them possessed the ides that I was looking for. I knew what I was looking for, except I did not know what it was but, I would know it when I saw it....in my head that makes sense :/

I know Kiarra...inside and out, I know her! I know what she likes, what she wants, I know what she is Thankful for...which gave me the idea for the perfect missionary Thanksgiving Day package.

I make her a Thankful Box, it contained ALL the items that I knew she was Thankful for.

I made little cards that said I am Thankful for.....and then the item, and I attached them to said item.

 

In keeping with her quirky humor I included:

 

I am Thankful for Toasty Hands - Gloves

I am Thankful for being Warm - Leggings

I am Thankful for Kids - Sour Patch Kids

I am Thankful for Prophets - Picture of the Prophet

I am Thankful for Smiles - Wax Lips

I am Thankful for Soft Skin - Lotion

I am NOT Thankful for Stinky Breath  - Pack of Gum

I am Thankful for being Dry - Mini SHAM WOW

I am Thankful for Cakes & Pies - Little Debbie Snack Cakes

I am Thankful for Family - Family Pictures with a note from each of us

 

There were more but I'm sure that gets the picture across.

 

We also included a postit note Thankful banner.

I got a pack of postit notes (the pop up kind, they open up still attached) and wrote:

Reasons we are Thankful for Sister Zubicki....and then we wrote a reason or word why on each postit note.

 

 

We mailed it out with a note written on the box saying DO NOT OPEN UNTIL THANKSGIVING!

I know it's not mashed potatoes and gravy with grandma but, I hope it brings a little joy into her day and puts a smile on her face.

 

We are SO very Thankful for Sister Zubicki!

Reality

I have come to the conclusion that I Must begin to live in reality! First...I AM about to be 40 and regardless of how often I tell myself I am still 30...that is an untrue statement!:(
Second my daughter IS gone on a mission! Even though I think if I don't go in her room, then I don't have to acknowledge that she is not in here...she is gone....
Lastly my son IS in jail!
I don't share the private details of my life because...well who puts ALL their laundry out there and to the ones that do I'm always like...whoa hold a little back sister!
Mainly I fear...I fear like most people fear...what if I'm judged, what if he's judged...I'm still a little redneck and to hear judgment passed on who, I still see as my baby boy, could and most likely would send me off to the crazy place.
The truth is...who wants to say, oh your baby just took her first steps, oh your son in on the honor roll? Yeah, my son said he learned 20 new card games since he's been "IN" <-----proud mommy moment!
Then there's always the "oh no! I'm so sorry!"
What? Why are you sorry, did you put him there? Was it you who broke the law and falsely accused him?! (See the catty coming out & this hasn't even happened!)
I know that those are just statements out of concern but, I don't want concern....I don't want help....because unless someone can bake him a cake with a fingernail file in it and then house, clothe, and support him forever after his escape...the reality is, there is no help. I don't need to discuss my problems, worries, stresses, drama...to make them smaller, they are what they are and no amount of mouth vomit will change that.
So, then what? I say "Yeah it's great to see you too, oh did I tell you my son is in jail and could be there for 10 years?" What do I expect someone to say? "That's great! you must be so proud".....I don't know! Who has the answer to that? What is the right response? Does Hallmark make a "Lets Party in Mo-town, your boy's on Lockdown" Card? No...not yet but, I should send that request in, it could save some from the awkward silence moments.
Back to reality...my son celebrated his 19th birthday in jail. He is awaiting trail on two felonies in one county and then faces two more felonies in another county. He dropped out of high school (last year) his senior year and became addicted to drugs...I'm not sure what, I think....everything...anything he could get. When found guilty, he will be sentenced one to ten years on each charge....those are hard words, even to type them takes my breath away.
I still see him as a baby, as innocent....as my son...perfect. I know that he is guilty and  I have not bonded him out as this is a lesson he must learn on his own. Leaving him there has been the single most difficult decision I have faced in my life thus far. We have five daughters, none of them know he is there. We have purposefully hid this from them as we could not see the value in them knowing this....why give them this knowledge, why cause them that pain. We do not want them to stress or worry over his situation when, they can do nothing to change it. I wonder now if that is a decision based on wisdom, or if it is just the easiest.
As a parent we question ourselves constantly, how should we react, how should we respond, what do I say, what do I do....there is no handbook, no way to know what is "right"....we can pray, ask our mom, do what worked when we were kids....but, how do we know? Looking back at my life as the mother of my oldest who is on a mission serving our Lord and as the mother of my second oldest who is in jail....I question myself endlessly.
I pray that my son will learn from this experience and never have to face being incarcerated again. I pray that he is strong enough to survive with who is his still intact. I pray he knows he's loved. I pray he doesn't give up or give in to the temptations that surround him. I pray that he can one day come home to me.
Not too long ago during a phone call, I asked him if he needed anything. He said "like what mom, a new ipod?!"
I said "Golden there has to be things you need, like socks, or tshirts, do you want some pictures?"
He began to cry and said "Mom NO! Do not send me those things, I do NOT want to make this place feel like home! THIS IS NOT MY HOME MOM!" 
Oh how it hurt to not be able to help him...to not know the words, to ease his pain. A few days later I received a letter from him and near the end it said "Mom, I am so afraid....I do not want to finish growing up here. I fear this is my home. I AM SO AFRAID!" 
My son is in jail, it hurts my very soul and my reality is those two things are my reality.

Sis Z's Delivery

I'm nine months pregnant (when this all happened, that was a true statement) and my feet swell at the thought of sitting for more than 5 minutes. Mikalla and Scout have testing this week (it's the end of the semester) and Piper can only ride in her car seat for 2 minutes before she turns into a gremlin. Based on all of those statements...daddy took Kie alone to deliver her to the MTC in Provo, Utah. They left on September 29th, with Kiarras report date being October 2nd.
Daddy and Kiarra meet up with Elders Strong and Wynn (they are Scott and Logan now but, we all have a hard time calling them that) and they set out to do and see all that they could. Dad hadn't been to Temple Square before and so there was lots of sight seeing and picture taking.

 

With General Conference being that weekend, dad went on a somewhat crazed "stalking" expedition trying to find President Uchtdorf......his efforts ultimately proved to be in vain.....Uchtdorf remained illusive.

I called and text as much as I could without being "over attached, clingy mom" and my heart hurt as the time drew near. The morning on the 2nd, dad and Kiarra had so much left to do that every call was rushed as they needed to still get this and pack that and were worried about arriving at the scheduled time. I was watching the clock, what seemed like every second, knowing that I had just under one hour until they would arrive and I would speak to her for the last, for a very long time. I was checking out at Joanne's (because even in despair, we still need to craft right?) when my phone rang. It was Matt I could hear him crying....what? Matt, what?! He said "She's gone!" WHAT???? I still have an hour! (At that moment is when I discovered Utah is an hour ahead of Arizona...USEFUL INFORMATION!)

I said "NO! You didn't call! Why didn't you call!" I couldn't wrap my head around the words he was saying...I didn't get to say goodbye....I had SO much left to say. The woman bagging my crafting goodies was looking on in dismay "Ma'ma are you okay?"...What, I thought, NO! I am NOT okay...They didn't call! My baby is gone and I'm buying freaking ribbon and why is he saying she's gone, I have an hour! I was quiet....I'm sure that scared Matt, I don't often search for words, they sit at the ready. My mind was far away, I couldn't reach my thoughts, they were there, foggy and distant and I was frozen at the sight of the numbers on the screen....pay I thought, pay and get out! "Matt, I have to leave here, I'll call you back".....he said nothing, only wept. I gathered up my bag in slow deliberate movements, my hands fumbled, the shuffle of my feet felt strained. One step in front of the other kept moving, get to the door, call Matt back!  As the day hit me when I exited, my eyes burned and it was then that I realized I was still weeping. Weeping is the "Oh I'm so small and petite and I cry little sweet baby girl tears" way of saying I was in the throws of a full on ugly cry! Tears covered me, snot was free flowing and I had the cry hiccups. I dialed my phone..."Tell me what happened!" Matt said they were so rushed and got there to unload and it was so quick and she was gone before he knew it and he was so sorry they hadn't called...it happened so fast. I don't know my words after that, I think I said it was okay but, I know inside me, I thought....drive home slowly cause if you arrive before my want to rip your throat out passes...you could be in extreme danger! I know I thought this is NOT fair! I needed to talk to her one more time. I know I felt loss like I never thought possible, I drove home I'm sure because I found myself there, broken.

Matt stayed in the "cry lot" which closely resembles the cell phone lot at the airport, except this lot is for departures not arrivals. I found my own cry lot next to my island, on the kitchen floor where I laid and wept.

I know she is serving the Lord and there is no greater service. As a mother I have never be prouder in my life. Yet, as a mother, I have never felt a more profound sense of loss.