My Grandma, My Hero

My grandma, Lois Tolley Campbell, was one tough woman. I will never forget the story my mom often told about her. A hardworking farm woman living in Rigby, Idaho, my grandma always had chores that had to be done, whether she felt like it or not. One day my mom, a young girl at the time, was playing out in the yard. When she heard that there had been a terrible accident and her mom's leg had been run over by the hay baler. She ran inside to see if she could do anything to help and was shocked to see her mother in the kitchen, her leg, swollen and black and purple with bruises, propped up on a chair while she made sandwiches for the men working outside. "Mom!" my mom said. "What are you doing?"

Lois looked up like it was the most obvious answer in the world: "I'm making sandwiches for the men." As in, how else will they eat if I don't make sandwiches? It's lunch time! I'm obviously not dead, so I'm well enough to keep working.

This was how Lois lived her life. I think she must have lived by the motto, "If there's work that needs to be done, do it. And if there isn't work that needs to be done, get off your couch and find something that needs to be done. And then do it." 

My mom often told me another story, usually in an effort to inspire me to do something hard. As a child, if she woke up in the morning and felt "too sick to go to school," her mom would tell her to go out and feed the chickens (my mother's least favorite chore, by the way). If she was well enough to feed the chickens, she was well enough to go to school. If, however, she passed out or threw up on the way, well, obviously she was too sick to go to school. There were very few times, if any, that my mom was actually too sick to feed the chickens. Once she got up and started working, she usually felt much better. And that's how we were raised, too, but minus the chickens (thank goodness!).

I remember many long weekend and summer trips up to grandma's house. She had one of the most amazing houses that a kid could ask for--a huge, impossible-to-open bathroom drawer full of old toys, a wood-burning stove to heat the house, the best dog in the world appropriately named Harry (Hairy?) Barker, a huge yard with trees to climb, a creepy old playhouse that was actually (from what I heard) the great-whoever grandparents who first lived on this property's house, an irrigation stream with a bridge over it in which we could float the boats from the toy drawer, a huge farm with 3-wheelers and old farm equipment and horses and huge stacks of hay bales to climb, a treehouse 10 minutes away from the house, a huge tire swing made from an old tractor tire, and a creepy cement basement that I was sure was full of rats. Every time my grandmother or mom asked me to go down there and get something out of the food storage, I tried desperately to find a way out of it. We thought we were brave if we went down more than the first three steps!

She had these awesome gadgets all around the house--a balanced metal fisherman-fish combo that would rock back and forth on the shelf, the yellow "people feeder" that you could put a penny in his hand, push down, and he would lift up his hand to his mouth and eat the penny, individual-serving Jello cups that we had almost every Sunday we were up there, a spinning easy chair that provided hours of entertainment to bored children, an ironing board that folded out from the wall, and a wood-burning stove that heated the house, making the room it was in 100 degrees while the rest of the house stayed freezing cold. I remember when my dad put a shower head in the bathtub, finally making showers possible, and when the electric heaters were installed around the house, making the wood-burning stove (and the prerequisite chopping of wood and hauling it to the house) no longer necessary. And I can't forget the "sugar drawer," another huge drawer filled with sugar and sugary treats--usually with about 5-6 different packages of cookies sitting on top of the sugar. And at Christmastime she would always make something like 2,000 different kinds of candies. At least that is what is what it seemed like to me. Chocolate covered cinnamon Santas, chocolate almond balls, caramel turtles, taffy, and her famous mints. Grandma's candy was one of the best things about Christmastime (in addition to the huge mini-village she had under the Christmas tree with the train that would go around and around!).

Seven years ago, Grandma Campbell decided to go on a mission with her sister, my great-aunt Clea, also a widow. They went to Nauvoo and spent a year telling visitors about the history of Nauvoo, the pioneers, and the truths of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. A few years later, I went on a mission. Missions are hard. Many days it was miserable. 100 degrees. 400 percent humidity. Wearing a skirt and riding a bike. Sweat dripping down my face and into my eyes. Riding a bike in the rain for half of the year. And some days I would think of my grandma. 82 years old on her mission, she had arthritis, a bad back, and the myriad of other problems that come with being 82 years old after a long life working on a farm. And I never, ever heard her complain about her mission. She loved her mission and the other missionaries she served with and talked about it all of the time. And when I remembered her joy in serving the Lord, it was a little easier to go out in the rain another day.

Grandma, on the left, with her sister Clea after one of the Nauvoo missionary performances

A few years ago my grandma moved into my parents' house--at first into a small room on the first floor, and then, when she came back from her mission, into a small apartment built by my dad that was attached to the house with her own entrance, a bedroom, livingroom, bathroom, and kitchen. Although it was hard for her to leave her house and her independence, she quickly made new friends in the ward, often attending the not-so-young single adult family home evenings, going to the temple, volunteering with the Daughters of the Utah Pioneers, working on family history, and of course keeping up with her mission friends. 

After several years of college busyness, I realized that in my hurry to save the world I still had a lot to learn from my grandma. The few times I escaped from my responsibilities and visited my parents, I would make sure to go in and talk to grandma. I thought my busyness was pretty important--I was finishing college, had several jobs, was working on important papers and projects, and was interested in saving the world. US international policy, starving children in Africa, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, Puritan graveyard theology, John Donne's poetry, etc etc--these were all things that I was passionate about. And I would go in to talk to Grandma, and she would show me some hats that she had crocheted for some of her great-grandchildren, or tell me about this great book from Deseret Book that she had just read, or talk about a recent mission reunion. And my priorities in life would slowly fall back into place, helping me to see that a busy life does not always equal a successful life.

Grandma Campbell recently had a massive stroke that completely paralyzed the left side of her body. Several years before, both she and my grandpa had written living wills, asking that they never be kept alive by means of an IV administering food and drink. With the paralyzation as a result of the stroke, she was no longer to eat or drink. We knew that it would only be a few days until she would pass to the other side, so my parents brought her home from the hospital and waited. Every day I would call. "How's Grandma?" I would ask. And each time the answer was the same. "Well, she's still awake, still responsive, still able to hear and respond to what we say." Even in her final days Grandma Campbell accomplished the impossible. It really isn't possible for an 89-year-old woman to live for 12 days without food or water. But she didn't ask anyone if it was possible or not. When we were talking about why she was able to keep going for so long, my mom said that Grandma's body just didn't know how to stop working, because she'd never stopped in her life.

This past Wednesday, after slipping into a coma the day before, my grandma passed peacefully on to the adventures and responsibilities that awaited her in the next life. I'm sure it was a beautiful reunion on the other side as she was reunited with her husband and two of her sons that have passed on, along with many other relatives and friends that have been eagerly awaiting her arrival. 

Often living abroad has its challenges. In the past few years in my journeys abroad, I have missed many family events: 2 baptisms, 2 weddings, 6 births of nieces and nephews, and many other things. When grandma first had the stoke, I told my mom that I didn't want to miss a funeral just a few weeks before I came home. She said that I was going to have to deal with it. My mom always has practical answers like that. What I really didn't want to do was come home to a house without Grandma. But with several vital things to finish up the last week I'm here and 7 flights already booked, not to mention my more-than depleted budget of living on nothing for a year abroad without a job and the cost of changing my flight plans, going back isn't an option. It's heartbreaking to be so far away for illnesses and funerals of loved ones. However, I am buoyed up by the knowledge of the plan of salvation--knowing that because of temple covenants that grandma and grandpa made, that my parents made, and that I have made, I will see her again. And I look forward to that reunion.

Just before Paul the Apostle died, he wrote, "I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith." I think that verse of scripture describes my grandma perfectly. She fought a good fight, finished her course, and stayed faithful to the end. And when I die, I hope that those who knew me can say the same thing about me. Thank you, Grandma, for your faith and example to me. And hopefully there won't be any chickens to feed in heaven, although I'm sure there will be plenty of things to keep her busy there!

A Visit from Losaunne

My sister Losaunne came and visited at the end of February. It was an AWESOME visit, filled with excitement, randomness, and of course awesome people who wanted to contribute to my new life view (found in Spain) that people are wonderful and nice and loving. Here are just a few experiences from her trip.

*Day 1. Losaunne arrives and, after greeting her at the airport, we take the bus back to Jerusalem (I was a mean sister. Without a license I couldn't rent a car, so I made her take public transportation). Lugging her bags through the Central Bus Station, I stop to let a group of soldiers pass by. (Now, let me say that I usually only come in contact with Israeli soldiers at checkpoints. They do not inspire warm fuzzy feelings inside of me.) I see a male soldier eyeing me and my luggage. I pull out my phone so as to pretend like I am just checking my texts so he will just walk up the stairs and not offer to help (gut reaction--I initially reject everyone's offers to help). He waits for me. I put my phone away and go to pick up the bag. He walks over to me, looks at me and motions with his head, "Are you taking this up?" I motion with my head, "Yes." And he picks up the bag and takes it up the stairs for me.

*Later that day. We go to Hebron. It's full-on initiation for my sister, who has little first-hand knowledge about "the conflict" and "the situation" in Israel and Palestine. We see the soldiers, the checkpoints, the abandoned streets, the graffiti. Luckily it is raining and there are no settlers around to throw stones at us. We go into the Tomb of the Patriarchs, first the synagoge side and then the mosque side (passing through two different checkpoints to do so). We walk into the mosque. An old Palestinian woman, all of the wrinkles on her face turned upwards into smiles, walks over to me. "Welcome," she says in Arabic. I respond in Arabic. Her face lights up. "You speak Arabic! Welcome, welcome! How is your family? What's going on in your life? Is everything going well?" I exchange similar greetings with her and we both continue on our way.

*Later that evening (I let Losaunne sleep on the bus rides) we go in to Jerusalem. It's Thursday night and the Ultra-Orthodox are making, selling, and buying Challah for Shabbat. My friend Beverli just read about the 4 best Challah bakeries in Mea Shearim, the Ultra-Orthodox neighborhood, and a few of us go to compare them. With the recent protests surrounding the Ultra-Orthodox community, I am especially wary of my "secularness" with uncovered hair and pants. We send Greg, the only male in the group, into a restaurant to check and see if women are allowed because only men are present. When he waves us in, several people in the restaurant volunteer their opinions on the best food. We go to the bread store, where we are also the only women (4 women and 1 guy), and several people there also tell us which breads and cookies are the best. I am shocked. My stereotypes of and fears about two groups of people, soldiers and Ultra-Orthodox, are confounded in one day.

*We visited Safat. Nothing spectacular happened there, but I took this awesome picture--one of the only good ones that I've ever taken with my ipod.

*The next several pictures are from Nablus. I was so stoked to go to Nablus because I hadn't been...it is deep within the West Bank and therefore a place where few foreigners go. And even fewer foreign girls that speak Arabic that wander around acting like natives. We passed this one guy and I heard him mutter under his breath (in Arabic): "Arabs? Or foreigners? Arabs? Or foreigners?" I knew that if I was an Arab girl I wouldn't answer him, and if I was a foreigner I wouldn't understand him. So I just didn't answer. What can I say, I'm looking more and more Arab every day. :)

On our "reconnaissance" walk around downtown, Losaunne saw this delicious smoothie shop. We ran in to take a look, and I asked for "what the guy before us just got, because it looks amazing." What we got was a blend of fruit and ice cream, with strawberries sprinkled on top. When he asked which kind of ice cream we wanted (there were only two kinds), I hesitated. "Here," he offered, scooping up a spoonful and offering it to me. I stared at the ice cream scoop, wondering how to get the ice cream from the scoop to my mouth. Noticing my hesitation, he pushed his thumb into the ice cream to lift it up a little and give me a better grip. Wondering why I had never realized that ice cream was finger food before, I picked it up and ate it. Thankfully my "health code fears" disappeared long ago...

We finally found Facebook's headquarters. It's not in California, like everyone thinks. Nope, it's actually in Nablus, deep in the West Bank.

The church over Jacob's well in Nablus. Unfortunately we couldn't take pictures of the well, but it was deep. Very deep. This is where tradition holds that Jesus asked the Samaritan woman to draw some water so he could drink.

Despite the chilly weather, I convinced Losaunne to get in the Dead Sea, just to experience the crazy floating feeling. She was a little skeptical at first, but quickly became a believer. I LOVE the look on her face in the top middle picture. "I can't believe I'm floating!"

*We went through a quick jaunt through Hezekiah's tunnel (not without first discussing the political and societal impact of the City of David and its owners on the area, don't worry). We had a full day planned, so we got to Jerusalem at 7, ate breakfast, and waited for everything to open. We were at Hezekiah's tunnel at 8:08. The first ones in, we had to wait several minutes for them to open the lower gate (inside of the thigh-deep water). A man went down in front of us and, not wanting to get his pants wet, just pulled them off and waded into the water. We politely looked away as he emerged after unlocking the gate. It was a little awkward.

*It was FREEZING cold. Seriously. You wouldn't believe it by the amount of snow that we got in February (see the picture below), but it was SO COLD. And my apartment, by some engineering magic, is about 10 degrees colder than the outside temperature. Friday I had a full day of fun planned, including watching the Jews welcome Shabbat at the Western Wall. Instead, we spent the afternoon trying to stay warm and not get rained on inside of Dormition Abbey, a cathedral just outside of the Old City. We finally gave up and ran through the rain (and swam through the streets of the Old City) all the way back to the bus station. After a bus and taxi ride, we finally got home and peeled the wet clothes off. We donned dry clothes and ran over to stand by the space heater. Three minutes later the power went out. To stay warm, I lit my stove and Losaunne stood next to the fire. It worked about as well as it looks.

*Losaunne was privileged enough to celebrate her birthday with me while she was here! Always one to think ahead, I had a stash of pitas and nutella reserved for this very purpose. While she was showering, I was making her pita cake. Nutella frosting and a peanut-butter "L" finished the product. And a mask left over from my landlord's son's birthday a day or two before I moved in (and left in the cupboard) made the whole affair extra special. Best. Birthday cake. Ever.

At the monastery overlooking Jericho

Guys. These are the longest single-span cable cars below sea level IN THE WORLD.

Losaunne discovered the deliciousness of hummus and french fries. WAY better than ketchup.

Learning how to fly.

Doesn't it look like she's hanging on that string? It was a total accident (or maybe I'm just that awesome of a photographer).

*We went to the Bahai gardens. As we walked up to the security gate, Losaunne was, as usual, chewing a piece of gum. "No gum inside," they told us, and pointed at the garbage can. After an awkward pause, they looked at Losaunne and said, "Do you have gum?" "I swallowed it," she said, and laughed awkwardly. They stared for a minute, confused, and then stepped aside. I guess normal people spit their gum out?

*The day before we went up North to the Galilee region for two days, I was still looking for a cheap hotel. I was using the internet at my friend Sahar's house because it was down (for the third day in a row) at my house. "Why don't you stay at the Mazouwi's in Nazareth?" she asked. Not wanting to impose, Sahar called them and asked for recommendation for cheap hotels in the area. "Yes, we know of a place," they said. "OUR HOUSE." These people seriously live in a mansion with their three children. And they have an empty basement apartment. "Why don't you move here?" asked Losaunne as we explored the incredible features of the house, including indoor heating and warm water. "The best part of staying here," Losaunne told me, "is knowing that when I get out of bed I'm not going to freeze to death on the way to the bathroom." I don't think it was THAT bad at my apartment...

There was a sunroof over this little hallway-room and a painting of a garden on the wall. When I woke up and walked out of my room, this is what greeted me.

*Nazareth was an interesting place to stay. It is a town of both Arab-Israelis and Jewish-Israelis, and I look more Jewish-Israeli than Arab-Israeli. Naturally, everyone was shocked when I spoke to them in Arabic. When we walked into one restaurant, I couldn't tell off the bat what the owner spoke, so I asked him, "English? Arabic? Hebrew?" He looked at me for a second, sizing me up, and then said, "Hebrew." So I struggled through an order in Hebrew, suspecting the whole time that he was Arab. Sure enough, while we were waiting for our order I heard him speaking Arabic to some of the other customers. When they offered me coffee (which I politely refused), the owner said, "She speaks Arabic!" They were all so curious to know why I spoke Arabic and SHOCKED to hear that I live in the West Bank. Yep, I know. I'm a monster.

*The first day in Nazareth we were trying to find the Mazouwi's house. I ran into a bakery to buy some cookies and ask them if they knew where the street was. Apparently the two late-teens/early-twenties (affectionately called shabab) men at the front had been talking about us, because they got really embarrassed when I greeted them in Arabic. "Why do you speak Arabic?" asked one, shocked. "Because they're Arab!" the other one said, with his tone implying, dummy! Why else would they speak Arabic? They're clearly Arab!

I'm taking it as a compliment. Basically I'm Arab now, everyone and their dog wants to help me or be nice to me, and my sister knows how to fly. It was an awesome visit. Did I miss anything Losaunne?

Crash, Boom!

While I was in Houston my sister and I visited an aquarium with sting-rays that you could pet. I fell in love with sting-rays when I visited just such an aquarium in Virginia, and I think it's easy to see why:

The stingrays are just so friendly! They come up wagging their tails like dogs and want to be petted. It makes me laugh every time.

My nephew Talmage clearly did not share my love for stingrays. He was terrified!

Don't worry, though. After some coaxing he did finally pet one or two of them.

Aren't they cute? This one has come over to the side to get fish.

Talmage was also terrified of this fake gorilla. It made noises and moved around when you got close (and let's admit it, I was a little terrified too--it was kind of creepy!) and he wanted to run away every time we took him near. Despite his mother's enthusiastic efforts to get him to make gorilla noises, he just looked terrified.

We went to Kema, which is a nice little waterfront area with shops and rides. I don't know if it was from the extreme heat or the fact that it was the middle of the day on a Monday, but it was deserted! It was a cute place but definitely a better idea to go when it's not quite so hot.

That night, instead of letting my sister put Talmage to bed, I distracted him (and her) by pulling out my camera. Talmage is so so skinny and in his pajamas he looked especially teeny. Isn't he cute?

We put him on the top bunk (he usually sleeps on the bottom) and he had the grandest time playing "Crash, Boom!" on the bed--a game in which he stood up, said "crash!" and then jumped in the air and sat down. "Boom!"

Apparently Talmage likes paparazzi pictures as much as everyone else...

We also stopped by the Houston Temple, which I have been waiting to see since I was in 4th grade and they started building it. I did a current events report on it and everything, but unfortunately we moved before it was finished. And now I finally got to see it! It was closed for cleaning, but we sat at the gate for at least 4 minutes in the heat and I snapped a couple of pictures.

This trip to Houston was another dream trip--no 56 hour road trip this time, but as a stop in the middle of my trek across the world, I'd say it was pretty awesome (orange-show type old town included)!