Goodbye, Big Red

 

Eleven years ago we bought a GMC Savana 12-seater van. We had Lucy that year, and she was our seventh child. If you haven't noticed, society has drawn a line in the sand and decided that if you have more than six children, you are a freak show and no longer allowed to fit in a minivan. So we were now a mobile circus. We named our van Big Red, and we were completely in love. We even took a photo with it to capture the beginning of a new era for the Craig Family.

Big Red has seen some things, my friends. In the past 11 years, Big Red has made three separate cross-country road trips and has visited 37 of our 50 states. It's been the backdrop for countless family lip sync parties and videos. It has been changing room and moving van. It has served as a “tent” a number of times, when I’ve gone on campouts with church youth groups and preferred the comfort and insulation of Big Red over an actual tent. And a clothesline for the times that the tent and sleeping bags got drenched and needed an elevated place to dry out. And it might surprise you to learn that Big Red had a starring role in the movie “Once I Was a Beehive” – where it transported the young women and their leaders for their annual Girls Camp trip and even towed the Ark. Big Red really nailed that role, I must say.

My favorite thing, though, was whenever we all piled into the van together, and to make sure all children were accounted for, the little drill sergeant in Katie would come out and she’d look over her shoulder and yell, “Count off!” “One!” an enthusiastic Abbie would answer. “Two!” Garren would yell. “Threeee,” Connor would respond, not enjoying submitting to authority. “FOUR!” Roxanna would rally, excited about almost everything at that age. “Five,” Tanner would calmly answer, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself. “Six!” Becca would cheer. “Pffft,” Lucy would offer up – because even though she was very advanced, she was only months old and didn’t know words, you guys. Lower your expectations, please. And then, Katie would turn and face forward again … and about 82% of the time, she’d be crying. It's only gotten more intense as we added Hillary and even in-laws to the count. It’s an emotional thing, to recognize that you have birthed enough people to fill a bus. And it's an emotional thing to have your people all together – this team of wonderful people you love with your whole soul.

Alas, the time has arrived where Big Red has moved on. Our family is at a different phase of life. Gas prices being what they are, I also find myself swearing every time I have to fill the tank, and that’s probably not a habit I need. Big Red is showing its age, too – the paneling on the inside of the van is falling off and has been comically held together by – I hate to admit this cliché – duct tape. There’s an abundance of dents and dings on the outside of the van as well as those quirks that will never be explained and we have quit trying to remedy. (Back blinker lights, we're talking to you.)

We sold the van this weekend – but before saying goodbye to Big Red, we decided to take a few photos for posterity. Everyone tried to reenact their expressions from 11 years ago. So much has changed in the last 11 years – for our family personally, and the world at large. But one thing remains constant. When we are all together, there’s a really good chance Katie is going to cry.

You Have Goat to Be Kidding Me

 

In the part of my brain that makes up alternate realities for my life, there is one where I live on a farm. Not a farm farm, where you actually have to get up at 4:30 a.m. to get under a cow, grab its “things” and squirt milk out into a bucket. Not the kind where you can discern what part of the farm you are standing on based on the particular stench that is permeating the area and the number of flies building cities on piles of manure. And certainly not the kind of farm where I call Katie “Mama.”

I mean the kind of farm where I am magically and effortlessly living off the land, eating the freshest food, and enjoying the stillness of being removed from the hustle and bustle of city life. The Field of Dreams kind of farm, where the wind gently blows the cornfields at sunset and my dad walks out and plays catch with me. Where Katie and I sit on the swing on our front porch and drink lemonade with lemons from our lemon tree and we don’t feel the sweltering Iowa humidity. The farm where we go to the county fair to check out Zuckerman’s famous pig, who is a cartoon and isn’t gross. The farm where my neighbors are Amish and come over to help with a barn-raising.

In short, a farm that doesn’t exist; but I wish it did.

The allure is strong enough that last week, when Katie texted me about taking in a baby goat for a while, I was up for it.

We have some friends – Dave and Rachell – with a farm in Payson, and one of their new baby goats was “failing to thrive.” It was tiny and wasn’t eating or growing quickly enough. The usual remedy for this, according to our farmer-friends, is to give the baby goat extra love and attention and to diligently try to feed it. Our friends were also getting a flock of baby lambs that required a great deal of attention, and on top of that, Dave is an accountant and was incredibly busy at work. They were worried they would not be able to provide the care that this baby goat needed if she was going to have any chance of making it. And that’s when we stepped in.

I’ll be honest: it was the limited commitment that made me willing to roll with the situation. And then … well, if you’d seen this tiny goat, you’d know it was about the most adorable goat you’ve ever seen. We immediately loved Pinky. Sidebar: have you noticed how baby goats – which are objectively cute – get older and turn into hideous creatures known as “adult goats?” It is one of the most tragic metamorphoses to occur on this planet, but it is true. Of course, it’s not limited to goats. Lovely young creatures that turn into appalling old creatures is a marvel that has been well documented and is known in the farming world as “the Disney Channel Phenomenon.” (Hey-o!)

Pinky came to us on a Friday night. We bottle fed her and she ate a little. At bedtime, we laid out some puppy pads and closed her in her little kennel. Initially, we placed her in the living room and our three little girls – Becca (13), Lucy (11), and Hillary (8) – made little beds by her in the living room. We thought if she could see them, she would be comforted. Maybe she was … a little bit … but the unrelenting bleating that literally sounds like a baby crying “Mom” for hours and hours convinced us she was not that comforted. We eventually placed her kennel in another room, further away, and had the girls go to bed. She finally fell asleep. Then we finally all fell asleep.

On Saturday morning, she seemed a bit out of it. (You know, compared to all the other goats we were nurturing.) She ate only a little and was content to spend the day being held. And between our three younger girls, plus Tanner (16), Roxanna (18), and even Connor (20), she was held constantly. Our neighborhood was having an Easter Egg Hunt, and a baby goat seemed the perfect feature, so we brought her out in the front yard with us. Every neighborhood kid and most adults stopped in our yard to see her. Goats are super social animals, and we hoped the steady flow of attention and positive strokes would somehow be beneficial. Like magic.

That night, we put her back in her kennel and put the kennel in the kids’ room. We thought that being surrounded by the kids who she knew well by now would be enough to console her. We were fools. After a while, we put her back in the same space as the night before – far from the bedrooms – and she finally fell asleep.

Sunday was the best. She was the liveliest she’d been, she ate well, and we were thrilled. We put a diaper on her and let her walk around the house with us. She followed Hillary everywhere. Wherever Hillary went, Pinky was determined to be with her. Like they were instant BFFs. Pinky never showed interest in dressing like Hillary, and they didn’t braid each other’s hair, but they were inseparable. It was really, really sweet. Like a friendship you’d read about in a children’s picture book.

That night, instead of putting Pinky back in the kennel, Becca made a bed on the floor and Pinky snuggled up next to her. She even tucked her head under Becca’s chin at one point. She slept there all night. We all slept better. It had been a good day and we all felt encouraged.

Monday was … not encouraging. Pinky wouldn’t eat much, and that became our greatest concern. Katie and the kids went to visit Rachell on the farm and took Pinky with them. I think there was some hope that she might feel encouraged by the familiarity of the farm. But nothing measurable happened. If anything, she seemed more depleted. And for the first time, we were more concerned than hopeful.

Pinky slept on the floor with Hillary that night. By Tuesday morning, we had to accept the direction Pinky was heading. Katie was regularly texting with Rachell, giving her updates, expressing our concerns, and asking questions. Rachell was encouraging, quick to respond, and reassured us we were doing all the right things. (Regarding Pinky, I mean. We didn’t run the rest of life plans past Rachell to see if she thought they were “right.” I think we already knew what she would say about our bedtime routines, and I know she would not agree that all farms should be odor-free.)

I was working from home and was in the office trying to distract myself with work. When I walked out into the living room, Connor was holding Pinky. He was lying on the floor, and she was lying on a heating pad on his torso. He seemed acutely aware of her, even sympathetic. The three little girls were busy with school, but kept coming into the room, looking at Pinky, letting a wave of acceptance and sadness wash over them, and then going back to their work.

I sat by Connor and watched her. Katie got off the phone with Rachell and came over. “Rachell says if the inside of her mouth is cold, that’s bad.” She stuck her finger in Pinky’s mouth, then looked at me and her eyes watered. We weren’t sure how much longer she had, but we decided we’d tell the girls to come say goodbye.

I’m not a big animal enthusiast. I didn’t grow up loving pets and while I can appreciate other people’s connections to pets or animals in general, it’s never been a part of my own personal life. But I looked at Pinky and my heart hurt. We had volunteered to care for her. I assumed that meant nursing her back to goat-health, and while I knew there was a risk of that not working out that way, I liked thinking it was low risk. I’ve just always struggled to accept possibilities that I don’t like or want, I suppose. And now here I was, running my hand over this tiny living thing at the end of her very short life. Her breath was shallow, her head was laying on Connor, and she was letting out these occasional small cries, trying to communicate … something. I don’t know what. A request that we stay close. A declaration that she was still here. A goodbye. An expression of gratitude.

I looked up at Connor, who had tears coming down his cheeks. “I’ve felt like this before,” he said, looking down at her. Connor has gone through some eras of depression over the last couple of years, and something about this baby goat lacking strength and ability to thrive was relatable to my son. That hurt my heart too.

The girls came into the room and gathered around Pinky. They were bawling, and being the sympathetic crier that I am, this was my final attempt at keeping a composed face as well. We watched her breathing grow more and more shallow until it finally stopped, and her neck sagged – all life having left her little body.

It might be the strangest connection I’ve felt to another life. I like to think that no matter the medical reason behind Pinky’s failure to thrive, she felt cared for and loved and comfortable. She impacted our family for good. She also added another feature to my unrealistic dream farm. It’s a farm where the animals are all happy and thriving … and maybe wear diapers, so when they become BFFs with your kids, they are easy to clean up after. 

25 Years in the Making: An Inconvenient Gift

 

This is one of Katie's favorite pics from our wedding. Sneaking a kiss, so stealthily. 

Katie and I are celebrating 25 years of marriage today. Some of you may think that sounds like I'm bragging. [I'm not.] Some of you might be condescendingly thinking, “Hmph, that’s cute. Tell me when you get to 40 years.” [I will.] Some of you may wonder what 25 years looks like. Well, I’ll tell you. At least, I’ll tell you a little of what our 25 years looks like. 

There’s the emotional shorthand of being able to skim or completely skip details because we already know the history, backstory, opinions, and feelings about sooooo many things. There are the millions of inside jokes, quips, and idioms … and for some of them, you really can’t remember how they began, you just know they’re a thing you say to each other. There are the hundreds of subtle, non-detectable-to-the-public glances you share that indicate, “We already know our feelings about that” or “That’s not how we would do this, but whatever” or “We’ll talk about this later” or “We’ll talk about this person later” or “I’m so grateful you’re the one I’m going home with after this party.” 

• We’ve been married 25 years. A quarter of a century. That’s 9,132 days. 

• We’ve lived in 9 different houses/apartments. 

• We’ve had 8 children – all 8 with a midwife, and 7 of them at home. 

• We’ve owned six cars – three of them vans, and one of those a 12-passenger van. 

• We’ve owned one cat, two goats, a dozen chickens, one guinea pig, two mice, one rabbit, and several subpar goldfish. 

• We’ve homeschooled all of our children since 2003. 

• We’ve watched the entire series of The Office, Seinfeld, Chuck, Cheers, and Parks & Rec. [And ER, but I don’t want to talk about that.]

• Together, we’ve been to Grenada, Israel, Portugal, England, Scotland, Canada, and 40 of the 50 States. [We were supposed to be in Europe for our 25th, but COVID punched us square in the throat, instead.] 

• We’ve had careers or side-hustles in copywriting, doula work, improv/acting, public speaking, account managing, philanthropy, and sales rep’ing – with three separate stints of unemployment. 

• We’ve lived in Las Vegas, where we never thought we’d live, and in Utah, where we never thought we’d live. And we've realized we don’t want to live in California, where I grew up and always thought I’d live. 

• We’ve met and fallen in love with some of the loveliest people that we get to call our friends. 

There are a lot of memories crammed into those 9,132 days. A lot of moments. Some of them are these unremarkable moments that somehow punctuated a feeling or an impression in that instant and stayed with me. Taking the kids trick-or-treating and looking over my shoulder at Katie, standing in our doorway to hand candy out to the trick-or-treaters coming to our house – both of us loving our stations for the evening. Holding each other’s hands at concerts. Making a meal together that we’re both excited about. Or like this one time when Katie and I were watching Saturday Night Live and fell asleep, spooned on the couch. I woke up when the musical guest was performing. Katie was still asleep in my arms, our house was quiet and still, the kids all asleep in bed – and I felt this warmth come over me like a blanket. I don’t know how else to describe it – it was just a sense that everything in the world was right. I didn’t move, worried that I would disrupt this glow. I just felt grateful.

There are other specific experiences that stand out as marriage moments. Those sometimes predicable or expected life moments that you share with your partner, because you are on this path together – but they are uniquely yours, because it’s your path. When we got to honeymoon in Hawaii and it literally felt like the world paused just for us. When we hid in the bathroom at my parents’ house on Thanksgiving Day to take our first positive home pregnancy test. When we bought our first house and realized we were committing to staying in Las Vegas longer than we’d planned. When Katie had a miscarriage between Becca and Lucy. When we decided to move from Las Vegas to Utah. The moment we both knew we were done having children and cried. When my dad suddenly passed, and I’d immediately left to be with my mom, and Katie joined me three days later and we found our way into a bedroom so I could tell her about the last 72 hours and I completely came undone and was unintelligible and just sunk my head into her chest. 

Twenty-five years holds a lot of unpredictability, with the occasional plan coming to fruition. When Katie and I were dating, I knew it was different from previous relationships. I had this spiritual, visceral confidence that we could build something happy together. And that was everything to me, because I have never had the gift of “vision” – being able to see what the future could look like. I’m not that savvy or wise – especially if you’re comparing me to Katie – but from experience, I can tell you that we’ve built our life and our home on faith, laughter, compassion, and quick forgiveness. And ice cream to fill in the cracks. And I would say we have definitely built something happy. 

As one of those non-life-events that was unremarkable and extraordinary to me, I thought I’d share something that I wrote for Katie some time back and never published. Please enjoy! Or don’t, I’m not the boss of you. [But you should know that this is the only thing I got you all for our anniversary.] 

An Inconvenient Gift

Timing is a crucial ingredient for romance. 

This is what Katie tells me every time I grab her bum in the kitchen and there are one or more of our children around. (And there is always more than one around.)

Timing hasn’t always been on our side anyway. Like, since day one. The day I met Katie, I was dating someone else. The day I decided I wanted to ask her out, she was dating someone else. And I’m not kidding, on the very day I mustered up the courage to ask her out, in the precise moment I walked up to her on our college campus with concert tickets in hand and my mouth open to say the words, she turned to me and with all the excitement of someone who had just figured life out, she said, “Hey! So, guess what – I decided that I’m going to serve a mission, so I’m not going to date this entire semester!” “That’s awesome,” I said, one hundred percent certain it was the least awesome thing I had ever heard in my entire life. And I had heard a lot of bad a cappella music in college. Including an a cappella version of U2’s Mysterious Ways that still offends me. 

Fortunately for me, Katie was easily worn down. And by “worn down” I mean I waited 24 hours for her to change her mind and/or completely forget that she’d said anything. And then I asked her out – and she said ‘yes.’ 

See?! Timing!

Decades later, the struggle is still real. 

It was early evening in late October when we met up with some friends for dinner in downtown Provo. Station 22. A restaurant that is so contemporary that it gives you one of those electronic buzzers that light up and vibrate to let you know your table is ready. This means you have the convenience of cruising around downtown Provo and visiting the cute shops instead of just sitting in a crowded restaurant while everyone except you is eating and enjoying the merriment of no longer waiting for their turn to eat. Oh, red vibrating buzzers … where were you in the mid-90s?! And why didn’t you stop that a cappella group from arranging Mysterious Ways?! Or at least Enya’s Book of Days, which was also not ok. 

Katie and I wandered into a nearby store called Here, a quaint little place that, among other things, featured art from local artists. Sadly, the store has since closed, so Here is actually no longer There. I was casually browsing pithy greeting cards and Katie was thumbing through some books when we suddenly found ourselves staring at the same painting … and we both stopped moving as our hands found each other and locked. 

Right before us was this painting, by Brian Kershisnik. It’s titled This Splendid Inconvenience. 

Let me tell you something. You don’t get something that accurate without having lived it. Dear Brian, we get it. That exact moment? We get it. The trying to take advantage of those last few minutes of snuggle time, only to be interrupted … but to be interrupted by your other favorite people? Timing is indeed everything. 

And without a word between us, we both immediately welled up. 

I knew in that moment that I was going to buy that painting for Katie for Christmas. Sure, it would be the third Kershisnik painting hanging up in our home. But so what? We aren’t hurting anyone. It’s not like we arranged an a cappella version of the Pointer Sister’s Fire and made people pay money to come listen to us sing it. (You also don’t get that kind of detail without having lived it.)

I wanted to surprise Katie, so I knew I needed to keep the purchase off bank and credit card statements. So I did what every single citizen of Utah County has done at some point in their life. I donated plasma. I donated a lot of plasma. This painting wasn’t cheap. But I was so excited to surprise Katie with this painting that resonated so much with both of us. 

On the day I wondered back into Here and purchased This Splendid Inconvenience, I felt like I had just won Christmas. It was worth all the times some random teenager with weird facial hair jammed a thick needle into my unsuspecting vein and promptly forgot all about me as he or she went off to flirt with coworkers. 

Here was kind enough to giftwrap the painting for me. It was a plain brown paper, but the string was tied in some fancy way that made the whole thing look pretty. I kept it at my office, safely hidden from Katie throughout the entire season. Each day when I walked into work and saw it by my desk, I got excited all over again. 

On Christmas Eve, I brought it home from my office and hid it in my closet. I was so stealthy, you guys. Like an a cappella group who decided that now that they had your money, they were going to blindside you with their version of Suzanne Vega’s Blood Makes Noise.  

Christmas morning had exploded all over our living room, and with wrapping paper everywhere and candy already eaten for breakfast, and toys and gadgets being played with … I turned to Katie and said, “Oh, I still have my present for you.” To which she literally, physically jumped up and responded with, “And I still have mine for you! Me first!” And she ran into the other room … and came walking back in with some very familiar-looking packaging. Brown paper with decorative string. The Christmas tree lights were dim compared to the light in Katie’s face. She was so excited for me to open my present. 

I tore off the paper – and there it was, in all its glory. This Splendid Inconvenience. I stared at it, and apparently my expression was not what Katie had anticipated, because she started to coax me. “Don’t you remember it? We saw it in that little store last October! While we were waiting to go to dinner! We were, like, both emotional! Remember?!” Of course, I completely remembered. Katie went on, “I babysat for our neighbor for the last three weeks so I could have the cash to buy it without you knowing. I wanted to surprise you!” 

I looked up at her and we smiled huge at each other and I hugged her and kissed her and thanked her and gushed. I was thinking how now I didn’t have this surprise gift for her … but I also so completely loved that we were both on the same wavelength and had the same idea and made similar secret plans to surprise the other one. I retrieved her gift, and as I walked it over to her and she recognized precisely what it was, her eyes grew even bigger, and I wryly commented, “You…don’t need to open it.” 

It was this uncanny Gift of the Magi moment. 

Maybe the timing was actually perfect. 

Pre-Marriage Questioning

Pre-dating. When Katie was playing hard-to-get.  

I recently came across an article on the Interwebs with the title 54 Questions to Ask Before You Get Married. (I assumed one of those questions would be, “Do you put an inordinate amount of trust into anonymous articles that you come across on the Internet?”)

I thought back to when Katie and I were dating, and how this article would have most likely inspired my own line of questioning. Mainly:

“54 questions? Who has time for that?!”
“Will this involve a polygraph?”
“How much will this cut into ‘kissing time?’”

…and so forth.

Dating. And time permitting, being adorable.

Since our courtship was before the invention of the Internet, smartphones, Ted Talks, or Robert Mueller, I didn’t have easy access to lists of questions I should be asking this highly attractive, hilarious, and wicked-smart love of my life. For me, when I was dating Katie, the Question List was much shorter.

1. Do you like me?
2. Do you think you could like me forever?
3. How do you feel about eating ice cream every night?
4. Do you consider it a hate crime that Bill Murray doesn’t already have a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame?
5.

That’s about it, I guess.

The Big Day.  

23 brief years later. 

I learned a lot by reading this list of 54 questions, you guys. I’ve been married almost 24 years, and I’ll just say it, I kind of thought I was nailing it. But NO! I am so embarrassed. As I read these questions, I began to realize that after 23 years of marriage – there are still things we have never even asked each other!

I couldn't wait for our next date night, so we could get to the bottom of some of these. "Do you want kids?" I would begin. "How many?" "If it were up to you, when would we start having kids?" Katie would then wrinkle her nose and squint her eyes, like she was giving a lot of thought to my timely questions. Or like she was wondering when I'd started drinking in the afternoon, since the relevancy of these questions is questionable. "Why do we want to marry each other?" "How should I behave when you’re in a bad mood?" "If physical attraction were eliminated, what would be left in our relationship?" ("Ha!" she would answer. "Like we’ll ever have to cross that bridge.")

54 questions would seem like an exhaustive list, right? Wrong. Like, wrong wrong. You should be ashamed of how wrong you are.

Sit down, you adorable Gen-Z’er. Let me tell you the kind of hard-hitting questions you want to ask that flawless young thing sitting across from you right now … peering into your eyes … fully confident that you have never had body odor or blown your nose in the shower.

Wanna know who you are really marrying? Consider these 20 questions that you couldn’t possibly even know needed answering before you get married …

1. Does the Christmas season start on November 1st or the day after Thanksgiving?

2. Will using humor diffuse a situation, or throw gas on the fire?

3. Follow up: Is it more important to be right or to be funny?

4. How do you feel about having a conversation while one of us is sitting on a toilet?

5. What temperature is the thermostat going to be set at?

6. It’s midnight, but there’s a new episode of Brooklyn 99. Do we watch it?

7. The speaker at church is super earnest. I’ve decided to do an impression of him for you. During the meeting. But with an adorable lateral-lisp. How do you respond?

8. There’s precisely one serving of ice cream left in the freezer. Who gets it? (Follow-up question: And how did this happen when the carton was half-full yesterday?)

9. I have a story from when I was single and at a church social function where an older, married woman mistook me for her husband and stuck her hand in my back pocket. I will be telling this story at parties for the rest of our lives. Is this a problem?

10. When I feel overwhelmed with love or gratitude – or when our kids do something amazing – I will get emotional. In public. Will this embarrass you?

11. How do you feel about stints of unemployment or underemployment?

12. How do you feel about putting up decorations for every holiday?

13. I won’t sing in public. But I will sing to you. And those songs will usually be pop songs where I have parodied the lyrics to the point where they are about 85% innuendo. Do you find this amusing?

14. Do you feel lip syncing is superior to karaoke? Correction: Why is lip syncing superior to karaoke?

15. Dinner is almost ready, but I go to the pantry anyway and grab a bag of chips. Is this met with a) eye rolls b) sarcasm or c) death threats?

16. We agreed on a specific price tag for our Christmas presents to each other. I completely ignored it and surprised you with something way out of budget. Again. For the 23rd year in a row. Even though I promised you I wasn’t going to do that this year. How much trouble am I in? Why do I keep doing this? Do promises mean nothing to me?

17. We will most likely see U2 every time they tour. Despite the ridiculous ticket costs. Problem?

18. There will be moments in our life together when I feel inspired to take over the world! To do something amazing! Excited and determined, I will present you with my ideas and plans. After the music dies down and I realize my plans require a lot of work, I will go back to being just me. Will you be able to get excited with me and tell me how wonderful I am when I present my ideas – and then, will you be able to quickly forget them and not throw them in my face when absolutely nothing happens?

19. If neither of us is a doctor, are you still comfortable looking at weird things in unspeakable places and answering the question, “What do you think this is?”

20. How much of our lives is going to be shared on blog posts?

Merry Christmas in 2015!

2015. Let me ‘splain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up. 

I had the privilege of playing the Bishop in the beloved Once I Was a Beehive! I love the friendships that came out of this amazing experience. The producers also sent me to Las Vegas to introduce the film and do Q&As. To see so many friends come out in support reminded me that a part of my heart will always be there. And no, being in a movie hasn't landed me any stalkers. I don't even have my own table at Burger Supreme! (That's my barometer for knowing I've "made it.") 

Other highlights: Working at Food for Health, serving in the bishopric, finding grey chest-hairs. 

Katie turned 40 and we had a party, with amazing performances and tributes!

I got to be the emcee...and give the final tribute. 

Our friend, Patrick, who composed an amazing, original birthday song for Katie.

Katie's sister, Rachel, giving us "Katie's Hairstyles Through the Years."

Jonelle, paying a lovely, moving tribute like only she could. 

Katie and Lisa, improv-ing what their Provo-based talk show would look like. 

It's a crime that this show doesn't exist. 

The Craig kids, performing their dance interpretation of Men in Black. 

Eric D. Snider, performing one of Katie's favorite songs from his vast library of hits.

Other Katie highlights: Year 12 of homeschooling, serving as Primary President, had a BYU Freshman Roommates reunion. It was adorable, you guys. 

Also, Katie and I celebrated our 20-year anniversary! 

This 5-minute video represents those 20 years. How do you condense 20 years into 5 minutes? You make a hard and fast rule that any clips must involve dancing or dance-like manuevering. 

Other highlights: Katie and I also went back to our roots – where we first met – performing improv! A couple of times a month we perform at Comedy Sportz! 

 

We also starred in this Doritos commercial, which did NOT get selected for the Super Bowl [sad trombone sound], but thank you all for the support, anyway. We loved making it. 

Abbie is 18. Graduated high school and started college at BYU, moved onto campus, and got a lead part in a main stage production at BYU! She also sent us this video of her and her roommate, Sariah. 

Garren is 16. Driving, dating, and working at Comedy Sportz! He sort of makes me feel embarrassed that I ever thought I was cool at 16, because he is absolutely nailing it. 

Connor is 14. I'm telling you right now, this was his highlight this year. You can read about it here. Constantly creating - either in his mind, on a sketch pad, or with tools. I'm jealous of his creativity.

Roxanna is 12. She is officially a Beehive. She loves the cello, her baking skills are off the chart, and she is a smiley soul. (Pictured here with Grandma Fillmore.)

Tanner is 10. The Force Awakens blew his mind; and him venturing out into the Pacific with his little sister on a paddle board blew mine. 

Becca is 7. Loves the violin and has fully recovered from a traumatic head injury this summer. I still don't love talking about it.  

 

 

Lucy is 4. She makes up the best songs and is at my favorite age - where they say whatever comes to their mind and assume all their observations are completely accurate. 

Hillary is 2. She is speaking in full sentences. Her favorite one seems to be when you urgently ask her to do something and she answers, "Hold on a minute." 

Biggest Adventure This Year: We made a trip to southern California, where I lived growing up. 

What it looks like traveling in our van. With Garren driving. 

When I made all of us pull over in the Joshua Tree National Forest 

so my sons and I could re-enact the cover of U2's album. 

Santa Monica Pier

Hollywood's famous Pink's Hot Dogs. Also, if you look closely, you'll see the cutest thing ever captured on film. 

20-month old Hillary pulling Becca's face close to her for the shot. Can you stand it?!

That's the Hollywood Sign behind us. Objects in photo are closer than they appear. 

Touching the temple! The L.A. Temple, to be exact. 

At the beach. I loved this day. 

Stopping at my parents' house for a quick selfie. Don't they look amazing?! 

Visiting Katie's parents, on a mission in California - almond and pistachio farms. Delicious. 

The fields were ripe and ready to harvest! HAHAHA! I'm funny. 

Sailing and seal watching!

This is my cousin Lisa. I hadn't seen her since I was probably 10. We got to catch up on the last 34 years! 

I adore her and her husband, Mark. They are generous and kind, and I love claiming them as family!

Other highlights:

Stake Pioneer Trek at Martin's Cove.

Inspired by our incredible friend, Matti. 

First Portugal Lisbon North mission reunion in 20 years! 

We waited too long to take the picture, most people had left. 

Great to visit with some incredible friends. 

Halloween: Craig Wax Museum

Thanksgiving dinner. 

When I look back on the details of 2015, I am able to immediately recognize how much would not have happened without the influence, love, and help of so many. I feel my Heavenly Father's love manifested by the people He places in my life. I am blessed to have extraordinary family and friends play an immeasurable role in the good that surrounds me. I love this time of year. I am grateful for the Savior, Jesus Christ, and all that is available through Him. Merry Christmas! Thank you for being my friends!