Days of Yore

Some of the ladies at our playgroup

Today I was reminiscing over an event that took place shortly after we moved to Ann Arbor, MI to attend grad school.  We had just organized our (unfinished) basement, including putting down some plush pink carpet remnants that we'd picked up at a yard sale.  We had seasonal storage at one end, and toys at the other end.  Bub & I got up from naps one afternoon, and I walked down to change the wash in the basement.  As I stepped onto the carpet at the bottom of the stairs, I realized that the carpet was actually floating about 2 inches off the ground.  Even worse, a terrible smell permeated the entire row-house.  We found out later that our part of the sewer pipes had not been jetted out by the city, and so everything had backed up.  All six apartments in our row-house were affected. 

We became best friends with our neighbors.

To complicate matters, Derek was out of town and we were so new to the ward that I didn't feel like I could ask for help.  Fortunately, one of the girls in the ward saw me hauling stuff outside, found out what happened and started making phone calls.  Over the next couple of hours, many of my fellow ward members, mostly from family housing, showed up to help haul out furniture, soggy boxes, and waterlogged carpet.  I didn't know most of the people then (and to this day don't remember most everyone).  What was special about the whole event was how un-special it was.  This was just what my fellow ward members did.  When someone had a baby, they brought meals and provided babysitting.  When people moved in and out (not always other Mormons), they loaded trucks, packed boxes, and carried furniture.  When others had raw sewage flood their basement, they helped carry the stinking mess outside and cleaned (or disposed) of it.

One of the best investments we made during those lean years: a 6-person hammock...

Some of this closeness can be attributed to our similar stages in life: we were all poor grad student families, most of us having children, being relatively newly married, and learning the complexities of balancing family, careers, financial needs, and small living spaces.  (One of my favorite memories from those 6 years in Ann Arbor was seeing the rows of strollers all lined up outside the church doors waiting to carry the little ones the half mile back home.)

Our beloved Hemlock Cabin at Warren Sand Dunes--an annual vacation on Lake Michigan.

But there was more to it than that.  The culture in that ward, and that stake really, was special.  It existed long before there was a student ward, and from what I hear, it exists still. 

No youth (teen) group in the ward meant lots of family and father/kid campouts!  Oh, and a ward pinewood derby...

Perhaps I was just at an impressionable age, but I felt like I grew up in that ward.  I learned how to magnify callings and how to serve those around me.  I learned how to think of others first, and to value family and friends over material wealth.  Not that I'm anyway near perfect at these things, but I certainly was giving a lamp that pointed me down a correct path.  And it wasn't just the leaders of our congregations that were so exemplary--it was also the people that lived in my courtyard, next-door, or that I met on the blue bus.  It was the faculty adviser that mentored my husband and gave him a vision of what he could do with his career.  It was the Santa at the Dixboro General Store that remembered my children year after year and didn't complain at my incessant picture taking.  (We miss you so much, Santa!)

How cute is that?  Domba fell asleep in the car and Santa pretended he had fallen asleep reading to her...

I was just talking to a girl who has 3 little girls, and told her that I had 3 of my kids while in grad school.  She gasped and was very sympathetic.  I think I surprised her when I told her that I preferred it that way, and wished I had had them all there.  The support system there was terrific, and Derek's flexible schedule meant he could help with caring for infants (who were mostly born in the summer thankfully), attend elementary school events during the day, and even participate in some of our field trips to the cider mills, petting farms, etc.  (Not that it wasn't hard, especially having kids so close together.  But it was worth it.)

Plymouth Orchards

It's funny because when we moved from Arizona to Michigan, I remember looking around at all the trees and hating that it was so green.  I had grown to love the desert and the endless sun.  I vowed to myself that I would never love Michigan and would hold out for the day that I could return to Phoenix's blue skies.

Fall 2003

As the Biebster says, never say never, because one fall in Michigan was all it took to convince me of it's superiority in producing colored leaves, apple cider, and sugar donuts.  (If only the winters weren't so dreadfully long and cold.)

Easter Egg Roll with some friends

Derek gave me a blessing of comfort before we left Arizona, and in it, the Lord promised that we would grow to love Ann Arbor, and that the friends there would be friends we'd keep our whole lives.  It's been 5.5 years since we left Ann Arbor, and whenever I meet those friends again, we just pick up where we left off.  But even more important to me is the vision I gained of what I should be striving for.  And so I say thank you to all of my friends from Ann Arbor who showed me what I could be, and the family Derek & I could create.  Here's to many more wonderful decades of bumping into each other and picking up where we left off.

(Hansen-Conlin family)