Yesterday our ward had their annual Memorial Day picnic. I went for the first time last year, but I was still in such a fog from losing Ammon about six weeks previous that I barely remember the event. In fact, I believe that the Memorial Day picnic last year was probably the first event we attended, and most people were surprised to see us there. Today, the day (along with most from that period) remain in a foggy haze of pain.
This year, I was looking forward to the picnic with great anticipation. My ward is fabulous. They are kind, cheerful, and wonderful. I feel like such a part of our ward family--which is a weird thing to say, since I AM a part of our ward family. It's impossible to describe. I think, among all the wards that I have been a part of (and there have been many!) this is BY FAR the most loving and the best fit for my family. I mean no offense to those readers who have shared wards with me in the past--but the experiences my familyhas had in this ward have tied us together, and I am so grateful for the people here. They are my family--and I love them as such.
I could attempt to spell this friend's name, but I would fail. Her first name is Martha, and her last name is something to the effect of: Vandemwere. Or something like that. I know exactly how to pronounce it: Van-de-mere. But spelling? I know there's a 'w' in there somewhere, and it messes with me. In my cell-phone directory, they are are simply shortened to Brother and Sister VDM. It's just better that way.
This is sister Richardson, the missing third sister missionary from my TOFW pictures.
Our ward sprung for I don't even know how many pinatas. The kids had SUCH a fabulous time knocking the candy out of them. Alas, my boys missed the event, as one of the other father's in the ward had taken them for a short hike. Regardless, here are all the kids that took part. They were listening impatiently to Brother Cass, who is our ward choir director and another good friend.
Sammie is one of my favorite primary kids. She and her sister Morgan dote on Brooklyn, and spent the better part of the picnic chasing her around and holding her. In fact--probably the best part of the entire picnic was the freedom that my kids had. They disappeared almost immediately when we pulled up, and I only caught brief glimpses of them the entire afternoon. Only at a church gathering can I be so completely secure in their safety that I can relax and let down my guard like that. I was assurred that they would eat, play, and be completely safe with whomever they ended up near. I don't know if every parent in our ward experiences this, or if it's simply a mechanism of our family and our loss, but the lovely people in our ward absorb my kids. They hug them, help them, and dote on them. I cherish that interaction.
These are some people who have been meaningful in my life since we moved here, so even though most of you will never meet them, they are important to me--and being that this is MY journal--I'm going to share them. On the far left here is Catherine, the primary president. Sitting next to her is David, my home teacher. Sitting next to him is Brother who's first name I can't remember and who's last name I don't want to share with cyber-space.
Steve and Rita. They are the parents of Sammie (the girl holding Brooklyn in the picture above) and more dear friends. Rita served with me in the primary presidency before I was released this winter, and exercises with me on Saturday's. She is wonderful.
These are my two FAVORITE missionaries ever, along with my visiting teacher and her husband. I've mentioned Brenda before, she still comes over every Tuesday evening that she is able to and reads the kids stories, helps me tuck them into bed, and do my dishes.
Elder Bevington, who has been in our ward for an unusually long amount of time, dotes on Brooklyn. All the missionaries who have come through our area since Ammon died have been in fairly close contact with our family, and I have enjoyed all of them. This companionship--Elder Park and Elder Bevington--have by far been my favorite. Last I heard they escaped transfers until July, but I know at least one of them will probably be leaving them. I dread it already.
There were several games to be played after we all ate. The kids were having a difficult time with the apple bobbing--they couldn't quite figure out how to put their face far enough into the water and capture the elusive orb.
At least, until Elder Parker decided to show them how it's done.
He's not afraid to soak himself for a good cause!
Shake it off, Elder. Shake it off.
The fruits of victory. So, so sweet.
There where wheelbarrow races...
and potato sack races.
By this time, the rain had started. We stayed as long as we could--sticky, sweaty, and exhausted, we weren't ready for the fun to end.
Soon, the rain began in ernest. I shot one last picture with the missionaries, grabbed children and a spare watermelon, and raced to the car.
Until next year, Cincinnati Eastgate Ward!
