Skip to main content

Not Forgetting....

Today, I was surprised to open the mailbox and find a small package inside.  I just about pooped my pants when I saw it was from Mark (I use that expression in complete honor of him)!  It was addressed to Johannah and John, both of whom had birthdays last month.

Mark has apologized, in advance, for these gifts.  Only being able to shop at the store at the MTC leaves few possibilities for anything, except t-shirts and shampoo (or that's what he says).  What he doesn't realize is that we just don't care--we're so thrilled to hear from him, and knowing how busy he is, we appreciate anything he does to show us he even remembers us!



John pulled out a t-shirt, and it was pretty cool.  A Germany t-shirt with a few handwritten words on it which loosely translate as "I am a super cool man."  John has an extensive collection of t-shirts, so it was a great gift.

John was sitting across the table from me, and as he turned the front of the shirt to himself, I gasped as I saw the back of it:


Here's what it says:

Ok, so Daddy, just like every year, I never know quite what is perfect for you, and considering I'm here on a mission @ the MTC, the ability to get anything is really limited.  But despite all that, I figured that you wouldn't mind having another t-shirt that just tells everybody how awesome you are :-) 

Happy Birthday!

Thank you sooooo much for all you do and all you keep doing for me!  Seriously, thanks so much, Daddy, for having me fix cars and work outside and build sheds cause it all has taught me how to be a Man-Dawg!!!  You're the REAL MAN-DAWG and thanks so much for all you do all the time!!!!!!

I love you!!! (written in Russian)

Mark

Thanks, Markie-Boy, for remembering your hard-working dad.  Just like him, you never forget about the people you love.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Quest for Birkenstocks

One of the main reasons I go to Germany every couple of years is to restock my supply of Birkenstocks.  I started buying them when I lived there, and I basically can't live without them now.  It just about kills me when a pair runs its course and needs to be thrown away.  I think in my lifetime, I've thrown away only three pairs.  One that never was quite right (the straps were plastic and would cut into my skin after a long day), one pair that I wore gardening one too many times (the brown dirt stains wouldn't come out of the white leather), and the pair that I was wearing when I broke my ankle (they were an unfortunate casualty of broken ankle PTSD because those purple and blue paisleys go down as one of my favorite pairs of all time).  I only threw out the garden ones a couple of days before I left for Germany, because I knew I would be getting a new pair. The only store where I have ever bought my Birkenstocks is Hoffmann's in Speicher.  (Well okay, t...

Like Dominos....

It all began with glare.  Simple, obnoxious, I-can't-stand-it-anymore glare. Our 60" rear projection TV in the family room was basically unviewable except after 10 o'clock at night.  The glare from the windows was making it impossible to see anything during my 10 minute lunch break each day, and something had to change. Too, the TV didn't fit in the entertainment center from Germany.  John, wanting bigger and better, hadn't considered that the space is only 40" wide.  For the past five years, I have been nagged by 6" of overhang on both sides of the TV stand. I went to Lowe's to price blinds.  $1,043 for five blinds, and that was at 20% off. I figured a new TV would be cheaper than that.  I was right, even with the state-of-the-art receiver and new HDMI cables that sly salesman told us we needed to have. But where to put the old TV?  It just needed a quiet, dark place to retire. Glo's bedroom.  Her TV was a relic from the paleoneoneand...

Your Life in Two Suitcases

I remember when Johannah told us that she wanted to serve a mission.  It was a couple of months after her freshman year had begun.  When she uttered those life-changing words, "I want to serve a mission," my heart sank.  Mark hadn't been home from his mission for very long, and the pain of having a child gone was still pretty fresh.  Let's just say that I wasn't at all encouraging. However, time passed, and when she actually submitted her papers, I was so excited for her.  I was excited for me too.  While I can't pinpoint any specific blessing that came to us when the boys were serving their missions, there is just a special kind of purpose that enters my life.  I can't really do anything without thinking about my missionary, and in some special way, my life is changed.  I write daily letters which, for an introvert, is cathartic.  I study my scriptures a little bit better because I want to be able to offer encouragement.  I'm constant...