Sam Senior Tribute

Five Times.

I went to the hospital with active, painful labor contractions FIVE TIMES.  Each time they stopped about the time I walked into the labor and delivery wing.  Each time was the same.  

Including the fifth.

I tearfully begged my doctor not to send me home again as she finished the exam.  The baby wasn't even due for another 10 days, but I felt two months overdue.  As she flipped the lid open and snapped the gloves into the trash I hastily started in on the same "make the insanity end" campaign I'd been using for the past couple of weeks when she interrupted me, "You're dilated to 7 cm. The head's right there.  If you want an epidural you'd better say so quickly.  You're not going anywhere.  This baby's on his way!"

Hallefreakin'lujah!

Samuel John Keeley was born about 25 minutes later and was my biggest baby at 7 lbs 1 oz. 

We've dedicated each of our children to the Lord, and committed ourselves to raising them with His guidance.  Samuel is named after the baby Samuel given to the Lord in the Old Testament by a grateful Hannah.  This was the most hard-fought consecration and decision of my life at this point.  I truly thought that we might have to return this precious boy early, and I wanted God to know that I was grateful and willing.  We gave him the middle name John as we felt Christ's great love for him, and hoped that he would always feel beloved, and one day choose to give himself to the Savior.  

This he has honorably done, and we're so pleased with the choices he's made and the life that he's lived. 

We're thankful that we've been blessed to keep him in our home.

1st birthday cake attack

A helper before he could even walk

Because his older sister liked to plan a party for each day, Sam got in on a lot of fun.  

Living on the east coast meant day trips to Boston and Cape Cod, and fun trips to Washington DC, New York, New Hampshire, Maine, etc...

Many family members visited during that time and we had one adventure after another.

When Sammy was 3 years old we moved from Massachusetts to Boise where the fun continued:

He was so riotous in his Sunbeam class that we had him tested for  early-intervention preschool at the recommendation of the Primary President.  He didn't qualify. Preschool was a wash: we couldn't get him to go in and stay.  I worried about Kindergarten but shouldn't have even given it a thought.  He was totally ready and never gave an ounce of trouble.  I honestly don't remember even one time when he misbehaved in school!

Elementary school brought friends, learning and fun.  Sammy was incredibly smart--especially in math, but this wasn't his greatest strength.  I got many similar comments all through school, but his quiet, gentle 1st grade teacher put it best:

"I watched Sam for an entire day.  He's friends with everyone!  I can put even the most troubled child in a seat next to Sammy and he'll take them under his wing and help them."  She had tears in her eyes as she expressed her love for such a sweet kid, and wished there were more like him. 

When Sammy was 8, I was called to be his den leader in cub scouts.  That was one of the best games, EVER!  Those boys were so cute and such a fun group!  

Baptism 

 About age eight I was suddenly aware of another character trait--determination.  It wasn't easy having a brother who was 4 years older.  Andrew could do just about everything better and faster than Sam.  This might have discouraged other kids, but not Sammy!  Did Andrew beat the boss in the video game?  Then there would be a look of quiet determination on Sam's face until he caught up.  He probably did everything earlier than Andrew did, but he didn't get credit for it.  

He wasn't even doing it to make Andrew crazy, though it did have that entertaining side-effect.  He just wanted to be as good; and in his mind there was no age difference or ability gap.  He just needed to work a little harder. So. be. it.

We also discovered that he doesn't have the reflexes of a cat, or the ability to turn on a dime.  But he's calm and cool headed unless relentlessly provoked.  Once I learned to count to five after giving him instructions, our power struggles ended.  I discovered it was never a power struggle for him, he just needed a minute to process the directions.  He's careful and methodical, and that makes him a good driver!

We moved to Utah when he was about 9. He finished out elementary school, then chose to go to a charter school, Karl G. Maeser Preparatory Academy from 7th through 10th grade.

Scouting continued to play a big part in his life, but now his leader was Dad.  We had the ultimate scouting experience as a family at Philmont in NM.

As a young teen, Sam played ultimate frisbee at school and almost daily pick-up games of basketball with the neighbors.

His real passion, however, is board games. (One of his senior thesis papers was a solid research about Monopoly strategies.)

We've played hours and hours of board games around the table, and if you watch Sam for a while, it quickly becomes evident that while he enjoys winning, he's in it for another reason.  Sam is the Game Master.  He would rather control who wins (and who doesn't) than win himself.  It pays to be on his good side, and if you do something to cross him while you're playing, he'll quietly annihilate you, just for his own personal satisfaction.

After winning the game in glory for his team at the last second.  One of my favorite moments!

When he was a Freshman in High School, he heard that one of the Winterim classes that would be offered in the next year would be, "The Physics of Roller-Coasters."  This really appealed to him, and he determined to make it into the group.  All summer long he mowed lawns and saved money.  During the Fall he took an extra math class to qualify himself.  At the last minute, I (mom) was able to break away and chaperone.  

Sifting back through posts, I realize that I never included pictures, and now I can't find them!  Argh.  Anyway, it was an amazing trip made even more amazing when I discovered that instead of forcing me to recede to background so as not to embarrass him (as the other kids force me to do when I accompany them on a field trip), he actually sought me out and wanted me to join him and his friends.  It was one of the best times of my life!

Sam is super-chill. His ability to get along with everyone makes him an ideal date for Mayli's friends.  She set him up last-minute a lot!  (This was also ideal for him, as he enjoys dating, just not asking the girl out.)

They never dated each other, though!

Never too old

Working on his Eagle Scout Project finished in the nick of time!

 As a  Junior, Sam decided to transfer to another charter school, UCAS, which is on the campus of Utah Valley University.  Because of the rigorous schedule he'd kept at Maeser, he was able to slip in seamlessly and graduate with his HS diploma and an Associate's Degree from UVU, with high honors.  We're really proud of his hard work.

On Aug 7, 2019 he'll leave for Atlanta, Georgia where he'll serve the Lord on a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints for the next two years.

He'll return to UVU to complete his accounting degree.

He's the man who can be friends with anyone, even his mom, and I'm going to miss him every single day.  What a blessing to ride life's roller coasters with this guy!

Here's a poem I wrote with Sammy in mind:

TO THE GRINNING KID IN THE MIDDLE OF THE TWELVE-PASSENGER VAN WITH MISMATCHED SANDALS AND A CHOCOLATE CHIN

You're no slip-through-the-cracks kinda kid.

First Child stretched the untried Mother-Heart

     More than her torso.

Painful, unfamiliar, delightful, beautiful, surprising.

Second Child unique, yet repeated; adjustments, guilt, pleasures, expanding heart-bulge.

Third Child the routine-original, heightened anticipation, interwoven relationships,

     thin-spread surrender, deeper appreciations, soul-swell

More And More Children brought saggy-baggy mombody, greater capacities, familiar routineshandmedownsterribletwosthisisjustanotherphasewe'vebeenheredonethisseenitallbefore,

    webs of interactions, intense longings, unbearable varicose infatuations, chaos, despair, ecstasy.  You.  

The balloon which was the Heart of Mother stretched disproportionately with each new life.

Threatened to burst, terribly resilient.

Every babe a newnaked gift of

 self, stories, needs, hilarity, weaknesses, longings, challenges, blessings, trials.

Each bringing a greater poignancy to the previous, adding to the design, packing in friendship, meaning.

A stranger, uninformed, looking in might speculate.  What's one little kid in a such a big family?

Like marbles in a jar.  Take one out, shake 'em up, no noticeable difference .

Gold coins are only valuable in scarcity.

This is most untrue.

You are a balance-block in our Jenga Tower.  A steady ripple in our pond.

Pull your thread, our pattern changes.  Never the same beauty, something gone forever.

If your link breaks, what of the chain?

Watching the Grass Grow

My little bit is a worrier.  
    
It's starting to take over her life.  Spiders, alarms, tattle-tales, what people are thinking, what happens if, what happens next, what happens....

   

Her wise oldest sister (who also has anxiety--we have a lucky genetic disposition) pointed out something, and I just can't stop thinking about it--she's never alone with her own thoughts.  

Society is fast-paced, and our family is, too.  She never just stops to watch the grass grow.


Ever.

She can't self-sooth.  Because she's never had to.  (This is a good problem to have--she has so many around her that want to help her when she's sad.  She is a child who knows that she's loved.)  But she needs to learn to comfort herself, and how to be alone. 

What have we done!?!  I think I understand now why my mom keeps beating herself up about realizing that she needed to teach me to play in the mud because I never, ever got dirty (I still don't like to get dirty or sticky.  So sue me.)  It doesn't need to be perfect to be OK. 



Still and all, I'm going to have to teach the Caboose to watch the clouds roll by.  We could all use a little lesson in slowing down.

Possibly we would all feel better if we breathe a little more.



Without background music, and electronics.  

Just be.  Like kids should just naturally do.

Instead of reading about it in Calvin and Hobbes. (Reading is good, but not if it's the only way we experience real life.)



If the only way to stop and smell the roses is to schedule it in the calendar between therapy and soccer, then so be it.  Maybe if we do it enough, we won't need so much therapy!