At the end of May, Tim's parents came up to Utah to attend their grandson, Ethan's, high school graduation. Tim's sister, Melissa, drove up with them!
It was the first time we were able to meet Melissa's son, Burton, so we were especially excited! Or "Gus," as about 50% of the family likes to call him. [Burton Guster? Psych? Anyone? ...Anyone? ...Bueller?]
Grandma Devey with da babes.
Grandma and Grandpa Devey with Gus and Ellie.
Ellie loved to smother poor Burton with hugs and kisses.
Like, all the time.
He totally loved it. Obviously.
Cutest little buds.
We spent most of the time at Tim's brother's house, which is about 15 minutes away from Park City. Naturally, we had to make at least one shopping trip.
Melissa, Tessa, Me, and the babes.
Tim being mature with his new BFF.
Three of the four Devey grandbabies born in 2013. AKA "The Fantastic Four."
Ellie was born months before these two but is by far the smallest.
About to go for a walk with everyone.
Cute cousins.
It would be the perfect post if it just ended there, right? Cute babies? Family? Beautiful scenery? But noo. Tim decided he hadn't had enough attention and decided to dislocate his knee again.
I came back from a walk sleep-inducing attempt with Ellie just in time to see Tim's family surrounding him and taking pictures of him lying on the ground.
That puddle around Tim's head looks concerning, doesn't it? Don't worry, it was just Tim's SIL, Michelle, pouring water on his head.
Oh, poor Tim. Luckily, it wasn't nearly as painful as last time, since it automatically popped back into place as he fell. But. Let's be honest. It was still painful. It was so nice to have Tim's family there to help and give him a blessing. The combination of far less pain and having family around made me far less panicked, too.
Tim will have surgery next month, and after that, he'll have to find some other way to get attention. [Total sarcasm, y'all.]
Deveys, we can't wait for you to come back next month!
I still remember the first scholarly debate I ever had with my dad during my first semester of college.
Our points bounced back and forth, back and forth. Each family member's eyes began to glaze over as the discussion wore on, but our eyes only became more animated.
Finally, it was over. My dad smiled. It was a proud smile - a smile I'll never forget.
To say that education is important to my dad is an understatement. He spent the better part of 10 years receiving his Ph.D, continuing to devote the next few years to research. Eventually he landed as a community college professor. Biology was his subject of choice.
He's always taken an avid interest in his children's educations, as well. It's funny, though; as much as he joked that at least one of us ought to end up a scientist, he really didn't care much what we pursued - as long as we were happy, he was happy.
He'd never tell you that he received a Ph.D or that he reads scholarly books for fun. He'd never let on that he could talk circles around just about any circle he'd find himself in. Instead, he chooses to remain silent on most subjects, feeling confident enough in himself that he never feels the need for superiority.
It's that quiet confidence that impresses me the most. It's never arrogance - oh, no - although he sometimes likes to pretend arrogance around his family.
Dad: Your mom says I know everything. Mom: No, I said you were a know-it-all. Dad: Same difference.
No, it's not that. It's the kind of confidence that never allows him to belittle another person - only uplift. It's the kind of confidence I yearn for and hope someday to achieve.
He has that same confidence in the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
For years, I never questioned its truthfulness, because I knew no one had thought it through more completely than my dad. And he'd found complete peace with it, despite its sometimes seemingly-contradictory relationship with his beloved science. No argument, no question ever ruffles his feathers because he's already thought it through to his satisfaction. Even in my teenage years when I began to wonder, I found comfort in the knowledge that I knew that my dad knew.
I remember when some family friends raised their concerns about Santa Claus. How can our kids trust us about important things, like Jesus Christ, they said, if we've lied to them about trivial things like Santa Claus? My dad simply shrugged and said that he figured that his kids would be smart enough to notice that he didn't rearrange his entire life for Santa Claus.
Someone once suggested to me that I should try talking to Heavenly Father like I do my own dad. I realized I might have some abnormally long conversations with Him, and that we might laugh a lot, but it made prayer that much more real to me. I knew I could tell Heavenly Father anything, and that He would be one of my best friends.
It is still beyond my mortal comprehension how my Heavenly Father could possibly love me more than my earthly father - and that is perhaps one of the most amazing tributes I can pay to my earthly father.
If you don't have an earthly father like mine, I promise you: you have a Heavenly Father like mine. He knows your name. He listens to every word you say and every word you don't say. He cares about the things you are going through. He loves you. Oh, how He loves you. It's the kind of love that will stop at nothing to bring you home to Him someday.
People have been telling us to go to Bear Lake ever since we moved here. It's kind of a local legend. Turquoise water, sandy beaches, and raspberry shakes were mentioned to us numerous times before we finally decided to go.
And now I'm just wondering why we waited so long.
The first time we went, just a few weeks ago now, we weren't entirely sure what to expect. Would the water be cold? Do people swim in the water, anyway? Should we bring our swimming suits? Just how good are those raspberry shakes?
And as it turns out, the water wasn't that cold, people do swim in the water, we should have brought our swimming suits, and those raspberry shakes are the best thing this side of the Mississippi. And possibly the other side, too. One never knows.
Because Tim had just dislocated his knee again, we really only made it as far as this puddle. I promise the rest of the lake looks much more inviting, but in truth, Ellie could have cared less which part of the lake she waded in. She just cared about being in the sun, digging in the dirt, and splashing delicately in the "wah-wah."
Of all the beautiful turquoise water to choose from, we sat down next to this brown puddle. Lovely.
Ha! Love her sagging, wet diaper.
Totally looks like I'm posing for this shot, right? Really I was just digging in the dirt with my foot. Much less glamorous.
The next time we went, just a couple of weeks later, we joined Tim's brother Jeremy and his family. This time, we actually brought our swimming suits. Regular boy scouts, we are.
"Why are you still taking pictures of me?"
"Bud, you're supposed to dig with the shovel, not eat it."
"You mean I put the dirt in there?"
"Mom, are you sure he's my cousin?"
Let's make a pact right now that we won't judge each other about farmer tans. Sound good? Good.
The brothers and their babes:
Raspberry shake and a chubby baby finger. New favorite picture.
We've already decided we're going at least once a month while the weather is still good. My mouth is already watering for those shakes!
