Jeri's Journal

Counting My Blessings

2011-11-02T21:38:00.000-07:00

There’s a book that I keep near my bed. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve read it. Sometimes I read it for the wit and humor, sometimes I read it for the wisdom. But for whatever reason I read it, it’s a book that I count among my favorites
.
It’s the book by Kerry Blair called, “Counting Blessings- Wit and wisdom for women” I am sure anyone and everyone who reads the posts on this blogsite has read it, but hoping it’s okay, I wanted to quote a little bit from Kerry’s book. For some reason, this has been going through my mind almost constantly lately.

“As latter-day Saints we are practically obsessed with anxiously engaging ourselves in good causes. Maybe it’s subliminal. Glancing through the hymnal last Sunday, I noted that as sisters in Zion, we who are called to serve are all enlisted to go marching, marching forward because the world has need of willing men to all press on scattering sunshine. We wonder if we have done any good in the world today, because we have been given much and want to do what is right, keep the commandments, press forward with the Saints, and put our shoulders to the wheel going where He wants us to go. However, as the morning breaks high on the mountain top, truth reflects upon our senses, and while we still believe that sweet is the work, we also realize that we have work enough to do ere the sun goes down. And thus we ask Thee ere we part, where can we turn for peace?”

Kerry goes on to not only answer that question, but she talks about that paragraph in a most excellent way. (Rather than me summing up her words, I highly recommend you read it!) As for me, I ponder that paragraph, Kerry’s wisdom, and I have learned from her words as well as her example and friendship.

This paragraph also makes me stop to think about my time management. While I surely want to be anxiously engaged in good causes. I also realize that life can be overwhelming and there are times I am not able to do all that I want to -- sometimes I’m not even able to do anything I need to-- but I am grateful to know where I can turn for peace.

I love this time of year that the season gives reason to stop and reflect on the things in which we are grateful for. The fact that no matter how crazy or difficult life can be, I am grateful there are places where I can find peace amidst struggle.

I am grateful for the blessing of such amazingly good family and friends who lift me up and even carry me through the tough times. They are the same who are there to celebrate and rejoice with me in the good times.

I have far too many blessings to count, but I do know I am grateful for each and every one of them.
　

Scouting

2011-10-05T21:53:00.000-07:00

I've asked my husband Brad if he'd be willing to be a guest blogger for me. So with thankful heart, I'll turn the time over to him:

I dont know how she talks me into these things, but anyway here it goes.

Well, here it is my favorite time of the year. For the 2nd year in a row I get to head up our wards Friends of Scouting drive. For those who don't know what this is, it is a fund raising drive to help support the local Boy Scout Council. To be honest, it’s a lot of work and all the money goes to the council, not the local troop, so it really isn't a lot of fun. This year there has been a good deal of negative press in the local papers about this event. It has caused me to reflect on scouting and why we should support it.

With our oldest son we had set a goal for him in scouting. We thought that he should earn the eagle scout award before he turned 16. If not then he couldn't drive or date. Well 16 came and went with no Eagle Award. We, however needed Tyler to date to give us a break from his crazy teenage ways, and we needed him to drive, for so many reasons. Shortly before he turned 18, he completed all the work necessary and was given the rank of Eagle Scout. When we got home Tyler handed it to Jeri and said here is your eagle mom.

Now Tyler is married with a family of his own. He is a hard worker and has been very successful. Everytime there is an Eagle court of honor, he proudly sits in the eagles nest. Although he speaks of his hard work and effort in earning his Eagle -- he laughs and grins and we know he is very grateful for the encouragement his mom and I gave him in earning this award. It means a lot to him. I proudly wear my eagle dad pin on one of my suit jackets, it means a lot to us too.

Over the summer I went with our older scouts in our ward on a high adventure trip to the Tetons. While there, we did face some challenges and even some dangers, but we learned from that and became stronger because of it.

I recently attended a meeting that focused on venturing (16-17 yr old scouts) and the LDS church. These are young men at a critical age, and in the church we lose so many of them from activity in the Church. One of the leaders that spoke said, “In scouting we don’t wait for the young man to come to church, we take the young man on an adventure where they will come to know their Maker.” There is a reason LDS church leaders have deemed scouting the activity arm of the Aaronic Priesthood. Sir Robert Baden Powell, the founder of boy scouting said, “There is no Religious side to the movement, the whole of it is based on religion, that is on the realization and service of God.

On the Sunday morning session of General Conference, Sis. Dalton taught a great lesson on the influence a father can have on his daughter. That lesson can be directly applied to a mothers influence on her son. I am not sure I have seen a young man who has earned his eagle award, who didn’t get there in large part because of a mothers influence.

President Gordon B. Hinckley has stated:
"I love the Scouting movement. If every boy in America knew and observed the Scout Oath, we would do away with most of the jails and prisons in this country. This program builds boys, builds their futures, leads them on the right path so they can make something of their lives. Every man or woman who helps a boy along the road of life not only does a great thing for him but does a great thing for society as a whole."

So while it is sometimes easy to get lost in the politics and some negative aspects that sometimes surrounds this movement, let us not forget all the good that can and does come from this program. Powell said “We must change boys from a ‘what can I get‘, to a ‘what can I give’ attitude.” Isn’t that what the Savior wanted us to learn?

Book Review

2011-09-12T06:53:00.000-07:00

IF I SHOULD DIE by JENNIE HANSEN

One morning on a routine jog, Kallene’s running partner, Linda confides that she’s filing for divorce. The next morning, she’s gone without a trace, leaving behind her frightened young daughter. Since Linda’s enraged husband refuses to notify the police, Kallene steps in to initiate a missing person search, not knowing it would soon become a murder investigation-- or that she’d soon fall for the charming lead detective. With Linda’s handsome brother also on her mind, Kallene must navigate the rapids of a double romance as well as the deepening suspicion in her upscale Utah neighborhood. Intrigue turns to danger as Kallene faces the consequences of hasty judgments. And when startling new evidence casts Linda’s murder as the work of a determined killer, Kallene needs the intervention of unlikely heroes to avoid being the next victim.

Out of all of Jennie Hansen’s books, I think this one is my favorite. (Believe me, it’s hard to choose considering she’s written over twenty!)
If I should Die had me wondering what was going to happen next at every turn. I couldn‘t put it down.

One example of that was at the very beginning. (Have no fear readers, this is not a plot spoiler) Kallene and Linda are out jogging as they did each and every morning, when Linda confides she’s filing for divorce. The last thing Linda says to Kallene before they part is, “I have a plan.” Linda comes up missing the very next morning and her husband Carson won’t notify the police. I am left wondering why? Is he our villain or is Linda really missing and Carson is on to her “plan?”

Jennie placed all kinds of things like this in her book that keeps the reader guessing. Like, why does the border of roses along the fence line look like someone may be buried beneath them? Intrigued? You’ll have to read the book to find out what happens to Mr. Haney’s suspicious looking roses.

If I Should Die captures your attention from start to finish as the search for a missing person turns to a murder investigation. A real page turner, this book keeps you involved with trying figuring out what the real story is behind a neighborhood of suspicious, likeable, lovable and yes, even questionable characters. Don’t forget, it also has a great storyline for romance lovers..(You know how I love romance!) It includes not just one but two handsome men for Kallene to choose from. On the one hand there is detective Scott Alexander, on the other there is Linda’s brother, Jon Pierson. Who will win Kallene’s heart? Which do you hope she’ll choose?

If I should die is filled with characters you love to hate. You’ll find yourself cheering for some, creeping out at others. J You’ll feel the loss, question your judgments, but most of all If I Should Die will leave an impression on your heart. It’s a must read! Way to go Jennie, you have another winner!

Heavenly Father, Are you really there?

2011-08-24T09:13:00.000-07:00

The biggest thing on my mind at this time is that many people who are close to me are facing several tough challenges in their lives. Some are dealing with death by tragedy, serious health issues, financial difficulty, family discord, and some are even dealing with several of these trials all at once.

I am at a loss at what to say or do. I certainly pray for each of them and keep them in my heart and thoughts but am left pondering the statement that really bad things happen to really good people.

It’s very easy during times of heartache and struggle to question where God is and how he could possible let these things happen, but I believe that question is answered by President Spencer W. Kimball in his book,
Faith Proceeds the Miracle

“Is there not wisdom in his giving us trials that we might rise above them, responsibilities that we might achieve, work to harden our muscles, sorrows to try our souls? Are we not exposed to temptations to test our strength, sickness that we might learn patience, death that we might be immortalized and glorified?
If all the sick for whom we pray were healed, if all the righteous were protected and the wicked destroyed, the whole program of the Father would be annulled and the basic principle of the gospel, free agency, would be ended. No man would have to live by faith. If joy and peace and rewards were instantaneously given the doer of good, there could be no evil–all would do good but not because of the rightness of doing good. There would be no test of strength, no development of character, no growth of powers, no free agency, only satanic controls. Should all prayers be immediately answered according to our selfish desires and our limited understanding, then there would be little or no suffering, sorrow, disappointment, or even death, and if these were not, there would also be no joy, success, resurrection, nor eternal life and godhood.”

It may not make the trial easier, but it helps to keep a clear perspective on what it’s all about.

“No pain that we suffer, no trial that we experience is wasted. It ministers to our education, to the development of such qualities as patience, faith, fortitude and humility. All that we suffer and all that we endure, especially when we endure it patiently, builds up our characters, purifies our hearts, expands our souls, and makes us more tender and charitable, more worthy to be called the children of God . . . and it is through sorrow and suffering, toil and tribulation, that we gain the education that we come here to acquire and which will make us more like our Father and Mother in heaven. . . .” (Orson F. Whitney as cited in Spencer W. Kimball, Faith Proceeds the Miracle, [1972], 99).

When others are suffering and struggling this is an opportunity for us to look for ways to be of service, to show that we care and that we love them. It’s not always an easy thing to do. But with prayerful consideration I believe any act of kindness would be appreciated.
People just need to know they are loved, that other’s care, and that they are not alone.

I know that people have come through for me at various times of struggle and trial. It’s at those times that I know my Father in Heaven is aware of me and my needs. It is through those people that he and blesses my life.

Pioneers Then and Now

2011-07-27T09:17:00.000-07:00

Hanging on the wall of the visitors center at Martin’s cove in Wyoming is a carved wooden sign that reads simply, “It is good to look to the past to gain appreciation for the present and perspective for the future.”

As I think of my own family history, I am reminded of a couple of years ago. My dad and I were sitting out on his porch swing and he was telling me the story of James Duncan.

James Duncan comes from my grandfather’s line from England. In the early years of the church, James was well to do, raising champion race horses was his trade. He gave a prized horse to our prophet Joseph Smith which came to be known as the Joe Duncan horse.

James immigrated to Salt Lake City with the early pioneers. He brought with him a casket of gold. He carried the gold this way to throw off any thieves making them believe he was transporting a dead body. Once he arrived to this valley, he gave a carriage to our Prophet Brigham Young-- the carriage is now downtown in the Church museum, and then helped to settle the Bountiful area. He owned 300 acres of land which he gave away in 10 acre lots to the immigrants as they came.

James’ story can be found in a book of the history of Bountiful. I love to hear and learn of James and other family members like him.

Generations later, I am thankful for James goodly name, for his faith and dedication, sacrifice and service. He lived well and was willing to part with his means to help build up the church. As part of his lineage it is my desire to emulate those same virtues that he was known for.

That same day as my dad and I sat and talked, I would just like to insert here that my dad and I have spent many hours on that old porch swing talking. I have been taught some valuable lessons, learned some life lessons, heard some great jokes, and been blessed with priceless memories there. It’s one of my most favorite places to be. It’s just one more thing I love my dad for. Anyway, we got on the subject of Martin’s Cove and Rock Creek. I had never been there. So My dad took out family there last summer. It was a short trip but one I am sure I will never forget.

There is a bronze monument and granite marker with the names of the thirteen people buried at Rock Creek. On it is a dedication from
Pres. Gordon B.Hickle,

“Rock Creek is sacred and holy ground… how tremendous their heroism in the face of odds that are almost impossible to understand… in terms of self sacrifice, in terms of courage, in terms of faith, in terms of facing up to adversity, there is no greater example in the history of this nation… we have a great inheritance… a tremendous responsibility to live up to it. God bless us to be faithful, to be true to that which meant so much to those who died here…”

As I look to the past I have a great appreciation for the present as I think of another pioneer who has had a tremendous influence on me.

That would be my own mother.

Many church members have no personal relation to pre-twentieth century Utah pioneers. But there are other pioneers. Many members of the church themselves are pioneers in the fact that they are the first in their family to accept the gospel. This is where my mother comes in.

She was a covert to the church in Denmark when she was 18. The Tabernacle Choir played a big part in her initial interest in the Church, which a few years later, she became a member of the choir.

She could identify with friends and relatives turning away from her for her beliefs. The day she came by ship to America there were very few family members to see her off. Indeed she put up with misunderstanding and unkindness for the sake of her gospel beliefs. But she had a testimony that could never be questioned and it was her faith and her testimony that defined my mother to her dying day.

She passed away of cancer eight years ago. Even when she had become bedridden, the love of her Savior was very evident in her actions. She had somehow managed to turn herself over onto her stomach and tucked her knees up under her to pray. She insisted that kneeling in prayer was a form of humility and respect for our Father in Heaven. She loved our Father in Heaven and had so much faith and respect for Him that even in her sick and weakened condition, she wanted to do all she could to show her reverence to Him.

Shortly after she passed away, a very young Bryan found me crying over my loss. He came and hugged me tight and while he patted my head, he told me not to cry. He told me he knew where grandma was. She was singing to Jesus with the other Heavenly Angels. I hope he’s right. That’s exactly where she’d want to be.

Her actions through her song and testimony is a great example of love for our Savior that I will always hold dear and cherish that memory in my heart.

Our later day Prophet Thomas S. Monson spoke of how we each can learn much from our early pioneer ancestors, whose struggles and heartaches were met with resolute courage and an abiding faith in a living God.

“We honor those who endured incredible hardships. We praise their names and reflect on their sacrifices."
“What about our time? Are there pioneering experiences for us? Will future generations reflect with gratitude on our efforts, our examples? You young [people] can indeed be pioneers in courage, in faith, in charity, in determination."
“You can strengthen one another; you have the capacity to notice the unnoticed. When you have eyes to see, ears to hear, and hearts to feel, you can reach out and rescue others of your age."

Elder Holland tells us in this months Ensign,

"What are we seeing in these examples of faithful pioneers? It is what we have seen down through the dispensations of time and certainly down through this dispensation.

We are seeing what we saw when the Saints fled New York and Pennsylvania and Ohio and Missouri and then fled their beloved Nauvoo across an ice-bound river with the temple soon burning in the distance. It is what we saw when those same people buried their dead in large numbers at Winter Quarters, followed by leaving isolated graves, sometimes as tiny as a bread box, in Wyoming near Chimney Rock or at one of the many crossings of the Sweetwater River or in a snow bank at Martin’s Cove.

What we saw then and what we see now among the blessed Saints the world over is faith in God, faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, faith in the Prophet Joseph Smith, faith in the reality of this work and the truthfulness of its message. It was faith that took a boy into a grove of trees to pray, and it was faith that enabled him to get up off his knees, place himself in God’s hands for the Restoration of the gospel, and ultimately march toward his own martyrdom scarcely two dozen short years later.

I don’t know how else mothers and fathers could leave those babies in those makeshift graves on the plains and then, with one last look, weep their way forward toward Zion. The fundamental driving force in these stories is faith—rock-ribbed, furnace-refined, event-filled, spiritually girded faith that this is the very Church and kingdom of God and that when you are called, you go."

I am grateful for my pioneer heritage then and now.
These stories I have shared and more are indeed faith promoting, they are a source of inspiration to me, they give me courage, they strengthen my faith, and these people are a blessing in my life. I marvel at the courage the pioneers had. They have set the way and made an example of the way in which I would like to pattern my life with their determination and their devotion to our Savior. May I find in my own life through good times as well as trials and tribulations, that I can have the same kind of dedication, fortitude, commitment.

Quilts for all Occassions

2011-06-29T22:17:00.000-07:00

I always look forward to the 4th of July.

Every year we spend it at the Nephi Carnival. We have done this for many years. The biggest things I look forward to are of course, the crafts and home baked items at the Country Store, but even more than that is the quilt auction.

For an entire year the Relief Society women though out the Mona and Nephi Wards work at making quilts of all shapes and sizes to auction off at this carnival. The money raised from the auction then goes to support a local fund raiser so the women themselves do not get the return of the funds. The women simply do this for the love of quilting and for the love of serving others.

The quilts are a sight to behold. Surely they are some of the most beautiful quilts I have ever seen. I admire the women who do such incredible work. Some day (and I tell myself this every single year, I plan to be the proud owner of one of those gorgeous quilts!)

As I think of those lovely women who work endlessly year after year, I think of an incredible quilt at my parents home that was made with those loving hands.

The women in my mother’s ward got together and made a quilt for her when she was so ill with cancer. They each put their name on a heart that was then sewn onto the quilt in a border around the edges of the quilt. When that precious gift was presented to my mother, it was given with a book of letters from each of the woman who had written their names on those hearts. Quilts may bring comfort to us physically, but they have a way of uplifting us to great heights spiritually as well. I know that quilt did for my mother. She cherished that quilt and those letters to her dying day.

My mother and my grandmother both crocheted afghans that I absolutely cherish because of the loving hands that stitched them. I don’t have that gift. Now that both of these women have passed, those blankets are very sentimental to me. I have had them for years.

I had an aunt that taught me how to tie a quilt as a young teenager and I still have it. I love the time I spent with my aunt Jacklin learning to tie my very first quilt. Every time I see that quilt I think of her, She too has gone and miss her.

When my son and his wife were married, I was thrilled when they received so many quilts for wedding gifts. (I would have loved to take a few of them home with me!) I realize the love that went into making those quilts for them. Now, as we travel to see them, those are the quilts they share with us on our visits. Seeing them brings back such wonderful memories of their wedding day. I love those memories and I love the memories we are making as a family each time we get together.

Last summer we went to Martin’s Cove and learned of a touching story that had quite an impact on me.

There was a women traveling to Salt lake who had made it to Martin’s Cove and lost her husband during the freezing cold night. She couldn’t bear the thought of the ravaging wolves digging up her husband from the shallow grave so she begged the men to wrap him in her quilt and tie him high in the trees where the wolves couldn’t get to him. As they left the following morning, she turned back just before they round the bend and looked back. The last thing she saw was her husband up in the tree in her best quilt. (I believe some of the men were to go back later and bury him when the ground would be thawed enough for them to dig into.) I admire the faith and the strength of our early pioneers I love them for their examples of courage. I can’t think of this story without tears in my eyes and a stab at my heart.

Now, as my father-in-law is retired, he and my mother-in-law have started doing such a wonderful thing. This year as each grandchild has a birthday, he/she receives a homemade quilt made especially for them by their grandparents. My son Bryan says it’s the most comfortable (and the coolest) quilt he has ever had. I do believe he’s right! So much time and effort has gone into that gift. It was truly a gift from the heart and one that was very much appreciated. I know how meaningful it was to Bryan’s parents for him to receive such a gift. We know the effort that went into it. And we love them for taking the time.

As my son has had brain surgeries at Primary Children’s Medical Center, he has been given blankets, and we have had quilts brought for our use as we have had numerous stays at the hospital with our son. We have been grateful for not only the warmth they brought but the comfort they provided when we needed something to hold onto when we felt fear and heartache.

Now as I try to tie all these different thought together…

Last Saturday our Ward did a day of service. It was in dedication to the many ward members we have had experience with different types of cancer. We asked them what we could do to help be of service. From their suggestions, we did hygiene kits, yard work, scarves, treats for family members in waiting rooms, rice warming bags, activity kits for PCMC, and we made blankets.

I was working with the women who made blankets to send to the Huntsman Cancer Institute and to PCMC. I couldn’t help but think how much my own family, especially myself has benefited from those. I hope the blankets we made will be of comfort to those hearts and hands that they will reach.

To end this post I found a great poem about quilts written by: Terrie Johnson

“The Tattered Quilt”

A tattered quilt hangs by my bed
Upon an antique stand
My mind drifts back to years before
As the quilt falls on my hand.
Stitched with care and bound with love
A work of art indeed
This dear old quilt has been my friend
No matter what the need.

I still recall with memory sweet
How this quilt came to me
It was upon a Christmas morn
It lay wrapped beneath the tree.
As I opened up this precious gift
My eyes filled with tears
I realized this gift contained
The work of many years.

One day as we sat snug within
My quilt and watched it rain
I asked my gramma, “Why for me?”
And thus she did explain,
“I wanted you to have this quilt
For when you’re feeling down
I wanted you to have this quilt
When you move from town to town.”

“So if you’re feeling lonely
Or if you’re feeling sad
Just wrap yourself inside this quilt
And things won’t seem so bad.
No matter where you go in life,
No matter what you feel,
This quilt will be here for you
It’s something that is real.”

Oft times I’ve sat with my dear quilt
And thought of words she said
I realize that when she spoke
She spoke of years ahead.
For now that older I have grown
I have just come to see
My gramma is my quilt indeed
She’s always there for me.

As for myself, I wish I could thank the many people who made the quilts throughout my life that lifted my heart and comforted me with not only warmth but somehow brought me solace when I needed it the most.

Memorial Day Observed

2011-06-01T22:59:00.000-07:00

In my younger years, we always looked forward to Memorial Day, but shamefully I admit, it wasn’t for the noble reasons it should have been.

It was simply because this was the first holiday of the great season of summer. We celebrated it by going camping! Well-- that was after we made a stop by the cemeteries to place flowers on the graves of our dearly departed. To me, it was a minor inconvenience, although I thought the flowers were always very pretty and the flags looked pretty cool.

Okay, I admit I had some very immature and very selfish thoughts back then, and yes, my parents tried earnestly to teach me what Memorial Day really was about. I just didn’t understand or truly appreciate it. I wasn’t listening. My mind was on sleeping out under the stars out at the lake. Wahoo!, I mean, it was finally summer!

I was quite young when my Grandpa Lawrence passed away, although I remember how great it was to always get a silver dollar every time he came to visit. Back then a silver dollar could buy all kinds of things at the candy counter.

I wasn’t a whole lot older when my Grandma Lawrence passed away and though I have a few fond memories of her, what I wouldn’t give to have a few more.

My Grandpa Christensen is buried in Denmark and my Grandma Christensen is still living. She turned 101 this past April. How wonderful is that? Can you imagine the things she has experienced in her lifetime?

We usually decorated my Grandpa and Grandma Lawrence’s graves. Grandpa’s always had a flag from serving in WWI. I always thought that was really something special to see by his headstone. I do remember even from a very young age, how proud I was of him for “earning the right to have a flag.”

Since my own mother has passed away, we have started a new tradition in our family. Each Memorial Day weekend, we go to my Dad’s house to spend the night so that early in the morning on Memorial Day, we can get up and go to the little country cemetery where my mom is to see the sunrise ceremony put on by the American Legion for the fallen soldiers.

The flag is raised at half- staff, there is a 21 gun salute, and off in the distance, a bugler plays “Taps” as the sun rises over the mountains. Words cannot describe the feeling that comes over you during the ceremony. It’s beautiful, it’s respectful, it brings a lump to your throat and tears to your eyes.

Every person who has served their country has a white cross that holds the United States flag near their headstone, placed by a volunteer from the American Legion. A large board with two flags is placed in the cemetery with all the soldiers names listed and where they served. This stands near the flag pole so that everyone can see it during the sunrise ceremony.

Recently my dad has talked much of wanting a veteran’s burial with the flag over his casket when he passes. He loves this country and gets somewhat emotional when he speaks of his time in the service and when he listens to the haunting melody of “Taps." I saw it again at that early sunrise service this past Memorial Day.

My son asked his grandpa what Memorial Day stood for. We all got in on the discussion sharing the little bit that we knew, and then I decided to look it up. Did you know that…

Memorial Day used to be called Decoration Day. It was observed back in 1865 by freedmen (freed enslaved southern blacks) in Charleston, South Carolina in 1865, at the Washington Race Course, to remember the fallen Union soldiers of the Civil War. The recognition of the fallen victims was then enacted under the name Memorial Day by an organization of Union veterans to honor Union soldiers of the American Civil War. Overtime, it was extended after World War I to honor all Americans who have died in all wars. Now known as Memorial Day, it is a day of remembering the men and women who died while serving in the United States Armed Forces.

Many people observe Memorial Day by visiting cemeteries and memorials. A national moment of remembrance takes place at 3 p.m. local time. Another tradition is to fly the flag of the United States at half-staff from dawn until noon local time. Volunteers often place American flags on each grave site at National Cemeteries.(Taken from WIKIPEDIA)

As a mother, I hope I can somehow let my children keep the thrill of the start of summer in their heart, but somehow instill the importance of honoring Memorial Day.

I think my son is already years ahead of me than I was at his age years by even wanting to know and understand the purpose of such an important day suchas Memorial Day. I only hope I can help him appreciate the purpose of it.

The Meanest Mother in the World

2011-05-04T09:50:00.000-07:00

When I was growing up. I recall having a cupboard above the phone where we stored our phonebooks, bills, pencils, and other odds and ends.

For some reason I was searching for something in that cupboard one night when I found a newspaper clipping of an article called, “The Meanest Mother in the World”

Being quite young, I read the article with just a bit difficulty and remember thinking, “Wow, my mom does all of this stuff.” when I got to the end, I didn’t appreciate the message of the article but rather thought it was some lame joke.

Still, I have never forgotten that article. For the message of the article has stuck in my mind. Through the years, my view of the ending has changed quite drastically. I get it now. Whether that be a little more maturity, life’s experience, gratitude towards my mother, or that fact that I am a mother myself, I am grateful for the ending… and for the message of the article that has stuck with me.

Rather than putting the whole article here, it can be googled if you wish to read it in it‘s entirety. It’s written by Bobbie Pingaro in 1967. See? I told you I was young :) But here is enough of it so you get the idea:

I had the meanest mother in the whole world. While other kids ate
candy for breakfast, I had to have cereal, eggs or toast.

My mother insisted upon knowing where we were at all times. You'd
think we were on a chain gang. She had to know who our friends were and
where we were going. She insisted if we said we'd be gone an hour, that
we be gone one hour or less--not one hour and one minute.
The worst is yet to come.

We had to be in bed by nine each night
and up at eight the next morning. We couldn't sleep till noon like our
friends. So while they slept-my mother actually had the nerve to break
the child-labor law. She made us work. We had to wash dishes, make
beds, learn to cook and all sorts of cruel things. I believe she laid
awake at night thinking up mean things to do to us.

She always insisted upon us telling the truth, the whole truth and
nothing but the truth, even if it killed us- and it nearly did.

By the time we were teen-agers, she was much wiser, and our life
became even more unbearable. None of this tooting the horn of a car for
us to come running. She embarrassed us to no end by making our dates
and friends come to the door to get us.

Our marks in school had to be up to par. Our friends'
report cards had beautiful colors on them, black for passing, red for
failing. My mother being as different as she was, would settle for
nothing less than ugly black marks.

As the years rolled by, first one and then the other of us was put
to shame. We were graduated from high school. With our mother behind
us, talking, hitting and demanding respect, none of us was allowed the
pleasure of being a drop-out.

My mother was a complete failure as a mother.
Out of four children, a couple of us attained some higher education.
None of us have ever been arrested, divorced or beaten his mate.
Each of my brothers served his time in the service of this country. And
whom do we have to blame for the terrible way we turned out?
You're right, our mean mother.

Look at the things we missed. We never got to march in a
protest parade, nor to take part in a riot, burn draft cards, and a
million and one other things that our friends did.

She forced us to grow up into God-fearing, educated, honest adults.
Using this as a background, I am trying to raise my three
children. I stand a little taller and I am filled with pride when my
children call me mean.

Because, you see, I thank God, He gave me the meanest mother in
the whole world.

Last year around this time, I wrote a tribute to my mother in my post for Mother’s Day. I bring up this article now because as Mother’s Day rolls around, I not only think of my dear angel mother and all that she tried so earnestly to teach me, I think of myself being a mother and what I have tried to teach my own children. Have some of my mother’s traits passed from one generation to the next?

Am I the meanest mother in the world? There are certainly days when my children would vigorously nod their heads. Surely I had my days when I felt like I was the meanest mother in the world. We, together as a family have been on a learning curve since day one. However, I did have my mother as a wonderful example and I thank my Father up above that I had her footsteps to follow and to help me on my path.

As I reflect over the years of being a mother, I get teary eyed and my heart swells. My children are my pride and joy. They are truly the miracles in my life. Now I have a daughter and a grandson to add to my mother and grand-motherhood. What more could I ask for?

As the saying goes, (maybe I have tweaked it just a bit) but,

“Some of the greatest blessings in my life call me Mother “

I love being a mother (and grandma). There have been times that I have been accused of being the meanest mother in the world, and well, though I don’t cherish the name, ”meanest” because it carries a negative connotation, after this article, maybe it has a positive significance.

If that’s what taught my children to be all that they can possibly be-- and I learned it from a mother who taught me some very valuable life lessons about being the best that I can be, maybe the lessons and the teacher aren’t so mean after all.

May we all be the meanest mother in the world with the most honorable actions and intentions.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Book Reveiw

2011-05-02T06:20:00.000-07:00

Through my dear friend Cheri Crane, I learned of a special book and I was immediately intrigued. Now that I’ve read it, I am so impressed, I thought I would pass word on. I would highly recommend this book to everyone. (Seriously, everyone should have a copy of this.)

There are three friends of Cheri’s, all of whom were sisters. Their names are Susan, Jean, and Trudy.

Their mother had declining health and had therefore spent a lot of time in various hospitals. Though the mother had a mind that was sharp and very much in tact, her speech had worsened to the point that her she no longer could convey her needs. Often times family members had to try to translate to the hospital staff for her because they could no longer understand what her wants and needs were. It became extremely frustrating for everyone involved.

One sister reported that on more than one occasion their mother would ring for assistance only to be walked out on and left in tears because the hospital staff couldn’t understand what she wanted or needed.

Their mother eventually passed away.

It was only a few short years later that this family learned that their brother in law ( one of the three sister’s husband) had been diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s disease. While his mind stayed intact, his body was deteriorating. Speech was one of the things affected. Determined not to go through the suffering and frustration that they had experienced while their mother was a patient as she tried to express simple and basic needs, one sister was determined to find a way to help.

After much prayer and meditation, ideas began to form.

If they could write down simple sentences and he could point to that sentence, they’d know what he needed. The letters would be big enough for eyes that might find it hard to read and could be made out clearly. There would be icons with simple pictures for easy detection. All of this would be done in bright colors for cheerfulness, etc.

The sisters talked with each other and put it all their ideas together. As an end result, they came up with the book:

Communication for the Cognizant, Nonverbal Patient

The book was a success, there was a huge difference between their experience with the brother in law and the mother.

This book is very simple and easy to use. It’s designed to be used for those who have lost their ability to communicate verbally and gives them their voice back only to be heard in another way.
I want to add my personal experience and opinion about this book.

I have been a caretaker in a couple of different capacities. I know through experience how difficult and frustrating it is for the patient to lie there and have all their freedom taken away-- to be solely dependant on others for their well-being. Especially if they were once independent and liked to be the one who took care of others themselves.

For the caretaker, it’s hard to guess what the patient’s wants or needs could be. To burden them with a million questions can be frustrating for you and for them as well as you try to figure out a way to make them more comfortable. Doing so without communication skills can be not only frustrating, it can be stressful and even scary. In a patient’s most challenging times, you want to do all that you possibly can in such difficult circumstances. But without communication it can seem nearly impossible.

My grandmother is now 101. She is sharp and witty yet her health is declining. She has had strokes and other ailments that are causing her to lose clarity of speech. Her age is taking a toll on her dear sweet body. She lives in Denmark. We have decided to send this book to my aunt to help them communicate more easily with her. Though the book is in English, and my grandmother only speaks Danish, the pictures are universal and the words are in simple, large print, that it will allow my aunt to translate. I believe this book is just what they need. I hope to hear of their success with it.

I briefly told you the story behind the book taken from the introduction. You can read more about it for yourselves. It’s a very touching story. This family experienced many personal challenges and through their heartaches, loss, and absolute dedication and courage to their loved ones, a wonderful book has come forth to help us give those who have lost their voice another way to express themselves.

To order this book go to
www.mycompanionvoice.com

Or to see more you can visit My Companion Voice
www.facebook.com and click “like”

Affliction

2011-04-20T22:43:00.000-07:00

As I try to gather my thoughts together to write this blog, my mind keeps wandering to my family and friends. Many of them are suffering from all types of struggles and afflictions.

Although I recognize that trials of heartache, illness, and devastation is worldwide-- especially in these latter days-- it seems within our own circle of loved ones adversity affects each of us in one form or another in quite an abundance.

As I ponder this thought of why adversity is so prevalent, I am reminded of two quotes from this last General Conference, both given by President Uchtdorf. The first is, “Comfort the afflicted, afflict the comfortable.” The second quote is, “Answers don’t always come when we are on our knees, but when we are on our feet.”

The Parable of the Good Samaritan comes to mind…

When the Priest and the Levite saw the man who had been robbed and wounded laying by the roadside, they passed him by. They even crossed to the other side to avoid him. Yet, the Samaritan who was thought to be an enemy of the man, was the one who made the greatest sacrifices and helped him in his time of need. He gave comfort to the afflicted.

As for Pres. Uchtdorf’s second part of the quote, “… afflict the comfortable.” I suppose this can be taken in many ways depending on where the listener of the talk is in their life. One of my thoughts was that I believe many of us, myself included, can become too complacent in our lives if we are not careful. Should/Could we do more to help the afflicted? It’s an individual evaluation, I suppose. It’s a question I should ask myself frequently so that I don’t become too complacent and find myself not doing enough to “Comfort the afflicted.”

As for the second quote I mentioned, I believe it is a good reminder that some of our greatest blessings come when we are in the service of others. I know that when I am having a difficult time, the best way to forget myself is find ways to be of service to others

I need to thank all the Good Samaritans in my life, and believe me, there have been many. In times of my own affliction, it was such a blessing to have Samaritans to help me bear my burdens. I need to keep in mind all they have done and try to do likewise for others.

My Conference Tradition

2011-04-06T23:01:00.000-07:00

One of my fondest memories as a child of General Conference was watching the Sunday sessions on TV with my dad and sisters.

Each time the Mormon Tabernacle Choir would sing one of their musical numbers, we’d all race to see who could pick my mom out of the choir members. She sang second alto and we’d be thrilled if we spotted her. How excited we’d get if the camera man would show a close up!

Years have come and gone, and now my mother has passed. I still love to listen to the choir during conference. I desperately long to see my mother sitting there singing with the choir, but I realize the sweet spirit that can be felt any time a hymn is sung at a meeting.

One thing that has not changed, is my tradition of watching the Sunday sessions of General Conference with my Dad. To this day, I may have my own family now, but we all know that Sunday sessions are saved to watch with Grandpa. The tradition continues.

As I sat and listened on Sunday afternoon, I glanced over at my eighty two year old father who was intently listening to the speaker. My heart was full. I was grateful for the blessing of having him around to watch conference with.

I certainly love General Conference for all the reasons that everyone else does-- for the learning, the growth, for the messages of inspiration and the words of encouragement, of course I could go on and on.

But I am also very grateful for what it means to me personally and the connection I feel with my family. It’s a time when we come together in one purpose, we feel just so close. I wouldn’t trade those moments for anything.

It's All His Fault (The Villain Of Our Story)

2011-03-23T10:04:00.000-07:00

In our family, we’re getting ready for a wedding shower. In my attempt to come up with a couple of ice breaker games that aren’t too silly or boring, I searched the internet, grabbed a book and started making notes.

The thing is, the notebook I grabbed was one I’ve had sitting at my bedside for almost a year. It’s been moved around my nightstand from side to side so once I had my notes on wonderful shower games, I looked through it to see why I have been shuffling this particular notebook around and not just putting it away where I would have normally stored it.

“Good grief!” says I, (to myself since no one else was listening) the notebook had all my notes I had taken from a writers conference I had attended last year. They always give you a binder to take notes in, but this notebook was one I had taken myself and set aside because it had some really great useful stuff in it that I could have been using this last year while attempting to write my next book. Why do I always do things the hard way?!?

In my last blog, I shared some things I learned from my other notebook.(The binder I mentioned) Now I’ll share some things I learned from this one. I believe Jeff Savage taught the class and titled it: Villains: Creating characters we love to hate.

The thing that stands out most in my mind is that he mentions a few things I have never considered before. For example: when I think of the bad guy in a story, I picture him with evil, cold looking eyes, a scar across the cheek, a days growth of beard on his dirty, unwashed, face and greasy long hair hanging in his eyes. Can you see him? Maybe that’s a little too stereotypical but you get what I mean, right?

According to Jeff’s idea of a bad guy, picture someone who is charismatic, devious and intelligent. Maybe he has a good side and a bad side with no conscience and feels justified in what they do.

Whoa! A good looking bad guy? Who woulda thought? Okay, some writer’s have, but as a reader, don’t you find that very intriguing? I believe it leaves room to question whether he really is the bad guy or if he is a supporting character put in the story to throw off the reader. In other words, it adds more people to the list of possible suspects for the “who dun nit” list. It keeps the reader guessing. As a reader no one likes to know the outcome by the end of the first couple of pages, right?

In this class, we learned that heroes and villains are very closely tied.
They are both ordinary men who desire extraordinary things. It’s the motives that separate the villains from the heroes.

There are so many more notes with valuable information on this topic. I could go on and on.

Another way to get your reader to understand your villain’s motives is to get the reader to view things from your villain’s eyes. What happened in his life that made him the way he is? What is his actions supposed to accomplish? I think this is where you can help the reader know your villain without stereotyping or merely making your bad guy “look the part”

I guess the point I wanted to make is that it is easy to stereotype a character. Getting inside the head of your character and seeing/showing what makes them tick will help them come alive on the pages of your book for your reader. Their looks and their actions will act as a guide and help the reader get to really know them.

In ending I wanted to share one last note I had taken from the class that stood out to me.

The best villains are like the heroes if the hero had taken a different path. They can make people and hopefully the reader believe their goal was worthy, that they have struggled with their decision.

After attending the class and reading my notes, my villain could use some work, but these ideas get me excited to try some new things. Thanks Jeff, for the great info!

It's In The Doing

2011-01-12T21:09:00.000-08:00

I came across an inspirational thought I had to share.

“When our wagon gets stuck in the mud, God is much more likely to assist the man who gets out to push than the man who merely raises his voice in prayer-- No matter how eloquent the oration.
President Thomas S. Monson put it this way: “It is not enough to want to make the effort and to say we’ll make the effort…
It’s in the doing, not just the thinking, that we accomplish our goals. If we constantly put our goals off, we will never see them fulfilled.”
Pres. Dieter F. Uchtdorf, “Two Principals For Any Economy”
Ensign, Nov. 2009

Upon reading this quote, I couldn’t help but think what a wonderful message it gave and the important reminder it is-- “It’s in the doing, not just the thinking”

We have begun a new year. Many of us have set goals and resolutions for ourselves. Some may have set goals that have to do with their writing, others may be working on goals that focus on personal or spiritual growth, or whatever the case may be. This saying applies to all.

It’s not enough to want to make the effort, but it’s in the doing.

May we all have not only the desire to accomplish our goals in the coming year, but the will to do them!

Happy New Year!

Home of the Year

2010-12-29T10:47:00.000-08:00

As I sit and look around me, I can’t help but see the dust covering the shelves. Darn, I meant to get to that. The dishes, though not stacked nearly as tall in the sink as they were when I went to work yesterday (that would be thanks to my finely trained husband) are still in need of a good washing. Oops, meant to get that done too. And the laundry… well, we won’t even go there, since it’s well hidden in the basement and no one needs to know of its condition except those of us who are trying earnestly to tackle it. (That too is on my to-do list)

By the description of my home, you can tell, it’s not the kind of home you’ll see in Better Homes and Gardens. Sure, I wish I had more time for better upkeep. It really is a bigger priority than I make it sound, but there are some nights I lay my head just happy in the thought that at least it’s clean enough that it’s reasonably straight and we don’t live in filth.

Still, isn’t it every woman’s dream to live in a spic and span home? I feel like I grew up in one, if memory serves me right.

But would I really like to live in the perfect model home? Hmmmm…. I’d have to think on that. On the one hand I would instantly say yes. As I mentioned, my mother was a brilliant housekeeper and there are times I wonder if she looks down on me and shakes her head in disappointment if I go too many days without running the vacuum around.

On the other hand, I may not get the Home of the Year award sponsored by some well known magazine, but I sure love that feeling of coming home; to my home, my comfortable home.

There are no classic works of art, but there are pictures of Christ and the Temples, and there are my family’s pictures hanging which reminds me of all that I love and all that are important to me.

Sure, I may look at magazines and dream of those clean spotless homes. But they never look lived in. They don’t look loved in. They aren’t homey and comfortable. I think I’ll stick with the one I have. After all, “We may not have it all together, but together we have it all.”

The past several months, I’ve had to work far too many hours. I was away from home way too much and too many things were neglected from the home front. I’m not just talking about housekeeping, but I felt I wasn’t doing enough in regards to my family. My husband really had to step in and pick up wherever I couldn’t.

But I had the luxury of spending a few days at home over the Christmas holiday. I had a sense of renewal. It was so wonderful to be home. There is no place I would rather be. I crave more of it.

To me, I don’t need a magazine to tell me what it takes to make a “Home of the Year.” My heart knows what it takes. I believe I have one. I couldn’t feel more grateful for that.

In the coming year, I vow to spend as much time there as I possibly can. (Then maybe while I am there I can do something about those dishes, clothes, and dust bunnies. I’m actually looking forward to it!) :)

Oh Holy Night, Indeed!

2010-12-15T16:16:00.000-08:00

As a family we have started a new tradition in our home. On the first week of each December a stake in a nearby city puts on a live Nativity for all to come and see. It is spectacular.

As the night falls, you come upon the Prophet Isaiah writing on scrolls. His prophesies of the Savior who will come unto the world is foretold as well as the Savior‘s mission on the earth is read to all who will listen to the Prophet of old.. As you listen to his visions and prophesies, soon you hear the scriptural account of the days leading up to the Christ child’s birth. Waiting in line, it is a powerful reminder of all that has come to pass and all the promises that will be fulfilled. What a wonderful reminder of what that means to each of us in our lives.

Then as you walk along, you see the Shepherds out in the field (with their live sheep around them) watching their flock by night who first see the star and the wise men walking toward the star shining in the sky. Was it just me or was there one particular star shining extra bright for us that clear cold Monday night????

There were cattle, goats, and even a large (live!) camel was there to greet us as we all walked towards Bethlehem. Many people walked among us in robes suited for that era. Children walked with parents, elderly walked with their staffs in tow. We felt we had gone back in time. All around us sounds could be heard of people walking toward Bethlehem -- to the land of their inheritance.

Once we arrived in Bethlehem, we were met by a soldier who expected us to pay our taxes, and a man who--off to the side stood weighing in coins of every shape and size---which were the taxes paid--- before we were to enter.

Once were allowed entrance into Bethlehem, there were peddlers trying to sell and barter their trade. Women were weaving baskets and grinding wheat stalks into grain. Men carved from logs with tools while others sold vegetables and fruit from crates and stalls. Even a leper was shunned from public begging for a morsel from any merciful passerby.

We continued to walk through the “dirt road” of Bethlehem and saw women gathering water at a well with a rooster perched on top watching us with his steady gaze and even came upon an Inn keeper sending everyone away for there was no room at the Inn.. So much to see, and even more to learn yet no one spoke to us, but rather let us take it all in by observing what was happening at that time. No one spoke a word. No one needed to. The only words spoken were that of the Inn Keeper. It was enough, for then in the darkened city, around the corner not too far from a stall of a donkey, a light shone ever so clear. It was then we heard the sweetest sound we could have heard.

A newborn baby started to cry.

We came upon the only quiet, warm, corner of the barn in the small town of Bethlehem. The parents of the baby Jesus were kneeling beside the newborn baby trying to comfort him. It was an incredible sight to see a real newborn baby wrapped up in soft blankets in the barn on that freezing cold snowy night. It took our breath away.

As we left the barn, a woman dressed in robes whispered to us ever so softly, “Merry Christmas,.” She had tears in her eyes and so did we.

As we got into our car to leave, the song, “Oh Holy Night” was playing on the radio. What a beautiful ending to our beautiful night.

Of course there are so many reasons I love Christmas, but is it any wonder that seeing and hearing the story of the birth of our Savior brings with it a renewed sense of hope and love to all the world?

That night, being a spectator of the Nativity, brought a new vision of the Christmas story for me. I hope and pray that I will not lose the feelings I had in my heart as I witnessed the scene before me.

It was a witness to me of the accounts that happened so very long ago. It was an experience testified ever so strongly of the miracles and blessings that would come because of the humble beginnings of that wondrous night so long ago because of that sweet little baby that laid quietly crying in a manger.

Indeed, what a Holy Night it was.

Time

2010-11-17T07:53:00.000-08:00

I had an interesting experience yesterday that gave me an opportunity to stop and reflect.

I noticed a certain clock hanging on the wall. It was the kind that is ran by satellite and it couldn’t find its signal. Therefore the hands on this clock were racing around like crazy ticking away the hours of the day within only minutes.

At first I had to laugh as I surmised there are times I feel I am racing out of control like that.

Then I sobered a bit…

The hours in my day tick by like crazy and at the end of the day I wonder where the time has gone and what I have to show for the minutes that have sped by. Did I accomplish all that was needed? Did I do what was the most important in the grand scheme of things? Did I treat everyone the way I know I should be treating others? Did I spend my time showing my family how much I love them, and enough time caring for them?

I consider myself a fairly busy—even too busy at times— person. Though I am constantly justifying that all the things I am involved in and all that I am doing certainly need to be done or have their place in my life, I still find myself feeling guilty for the things left undone because I ran out of time.

For example, I had to work, so I didn’t spend enough time with my family… that one stabs at my heart almost constantly. I tell myself that on my next evening off I will do a really great family dinner and activity to make it up to them. Of course when the time rolls around, low and behold, I’m either exhausted, (or lately, sick) or sure enough, they have plans. Murphy’s law? So to remedy that, I have had to alter my plans.

Rather than making an elaborate evening out of our time together, we make the most of the time we do have together instead. Maybe we’ll catch a movie, or even rent one and have a movie night at home with treats or we’ll stay in and play a game. Last night I took my son Christmas shopping and we sang Christmas songs together. (Maybe a tad early for Christmas songs, but we had a ball singing at the top of our lungs in the car!)

Time is racing on.

I need to be conscientious of how I use my time. At the end of the day, I want to look back and know that I filled my time with the things that are meaningful to my family, my friends, myself, and of course to my Savior, rather than just doing activities that fill my time.

That Old Age Thing

2010-11-03T10:48:00.000-07:00

There was a time in my youth that I thought people who were the age that I am now were positively ancient. I laugh and maybe even cringe a bit at the thought. But I have to step back and think on that for a minute.

I don’t move as quickly as I used to. I was told I have arthritis in my knees and I suspect I have it in a couple of other locations as well. But, arthritis??? Isn’t that an old people disease? I won’t use this blog to list my other “ailments” that go along with aging, but rather, my point is there are a multitude of things happening to my body and yes, even my mind :) that have been changing thanks to the aging process. Suffice it to say, I am sometimes taken aback by the older person I see looking back at me in the mirror. I notice the changes taking place that I never thought would happen to me.

So what of aging gracefully? My mother and her mother aged gracefully. In fact, I dare say, they became more beautiful with age. Not only that, but all around me I see women whom I admire aging most gracefully. I have to wonder what the secret is.

I decided to google it. I came up with all kinds of hilarious jokes and articles on the humor of aging. Unfortunately there were far too many I could identify with. It was more depressing than funny. What I learned from that was that humor is one thing essential to aging gracefully. That is not all. I learned much more as I pondered this whole aging process. A couple of articles hit a few pointers right on the nail for me as well. I thought I would share what I have learned.

The whole aging process is an important one and denying ones age though it is a silly, harmless, game played, (i.e. “I’m twenty five again…” or “Still thirty and holding…” etc.) it can also be disabling. After all, those grey hairs, those wrinkles, those scars, well, they are all a big part of who we have become over the years and we have earned them through our lives experiences. Therefore, we should wear them without guilt or shame, rather with pride and joy having survived or accomplished all we have experienced.

When you think about it, you can look back and say I am X many years old. I have learned X many years’ worth of lessons, X many years’ worth of personal growth, X many years’ worth of challenges and happiness, and X many years’ worth of accomplishments. Looking back there has to be some satisfaction for that growth and learning and that in turn can build self esteem. May you live that many more years and find much happiness in them! It’s something to be proud of.

Age doesn’t have to be a debilitating thing for us. We can age gracefully. After all, they say age is a state of mind—(I just wish my body would keep up! The physical stuff is a little harder to deal with!)

I know that as I have aged, my perspective has changed. I know now that the friends I have are the friendships I will always treasure.

I cherish moments with my loved ones as I realize there just aren’t enough of them. This is an about change when as a youth I hated it when my sister came near me or even touched me if I was angry with her or when she crossed to my side of the room after we had drawn the imaginary line.

I have strived to become more knowledgeable and therefore more stronger in my faith and my convictions which in turn gives my life reason and purpose.

I have become more forgetful, it is true. But maybe this isn’t all bad. In turn it has helped me to be more forgiving— for when I do finally remember, I have discovered that some things just aren’t worth being contentious over.

I have tried to become more at peace with myself and with my fellow man.

I realize more than ever I have much to do and mso much more to learn and suddenly I don't have all the time in the world, now all the answers to slove all the world's crisis's, but now more than ever, I want to do my part.

The list goes on. I am finding that maybe aging isn’t such a bad thing. I would never trade my adorable grandson for less grey hair or a flatter stomach and firmer end zone.

Life comes with broken hearts— there we learn strength and love and compassion, It comes with trials and struggles and challenges—there we learn faith, hope, patience and endurance. It comes with adventure and experience— there we can learn wisdom.

Each and every day that we have on this earth can be a blessing. We can either cherish it or go out kicking and screaming. It is my hope that I can learn to cherish it and age with grace.

And so, in ending this blog, I have to add some of the humor that goes with aging. After all, in the beginning I did mention we have to have a sense of humor with aging, right?

When I was younger, one of my favorite shows was “The Sound of Music” Now that does age me, doesn’t it? This may be a bit of that “denying my age stuff” but “The Sound of Music” was the best picture of 1965 and one of the best musicals ever produced.
In 1965, I was a little young to appreciate this fine film. But my mother helped me to appreciate it several years later.

This is a copy of a forward I received on Julie Andrews. It fit perfectly with my blog today and I couldn’t resist using it. I was unable to locate the original author: I could certainly relate to her feelings, could you? (Be honest and proud of it if you could!)

Julie Andrews turned 69 and to commemorate her 69th birthday on October 1, actress/vocalist Julie Andrews made a special appearance at Manhattan's Radio City Music Hall for the benefit of the AARP. One of the musical numbers she performed was "My Favourite Things" from the legendary movie "The Sound Of Music."

Here are the actual lyrics she used:

Maalox and nose drops and needles for knitting,
Walkers and handrails and new dental fittings,
Bundles of magazines tied up in string,
These are a few of my favourite things.

Cadillac's and cataracts, and hearing aids and glasses,
Polident and Fixodent and false teeth in glasses,
Pacemakers, golf carts and porches with swings,
These are a few of my favourite things..

When the pipes leak, When the bones creak,
When the knees go bad,
I simply remember my favourite things,
And then I don't feel so bad.

Hot tea and crumpets and corn pads for bunions,
No spicy hot food or food cooked with onions,
Bathrobes and heating pads and hot meals they bring,
These are a few of my favourite things.

Back pains, confused brains, and no need for sinnin',
Thin bones and fractures and hair that is thinnin',
And we won't mention our short, shrunken frames,
When we remember our favourite things.

When the joints ache, When the hips break,
When the eyes grow dim,
Then I remember the great life I've had,
And then I don't feel so bad.

Now there is a sense of humor from a lady who has aged gracefully! :)

*FYI The article I referred to in my blog for information was written by David Leonhardt on aging gracefully.

Happy Fall For All

2010-10-20T21:22:00.000-07:00

With a crazy work schedule today, my sweet husband agreed to blog for me. So, introducing my better half, Brad...

For many people, Fall is their most favorite time of the year. There are many great reasons for that. The weather begins to cool, the canyons are on fire with the changing colors of nature, of course there is the harvest, and for some, they look forward to the hunting season. My reasons for loving this time of year are far more simple, but in my opinion every bit as exciting.

Walter Camp is the one that can be blamed for this. He is the one that came up with the idea of a line of scrimmage, and the down and distance rule. Many others have made their contributions along the way, but Mr. Camp is widely considered the father of American Football. So I need to say thank you Walter for helping to make this time of year my favorite.

So what is it that makes this such a great time of the year for me? Football is a violent, almost gladiator like contest. It involves great preparation, strategy and execution. Those that participate at the highest levels are incredible athletes. I believe there is no other sport that requires more team effort than football. And while I enjoy these aspects of the sport, there are other things that are outside of the actual game that I also enjoy. What other sport do you show up for on game day 4 hours before the game starts? Not sure who the founder of tailgating was, but he is a genius. Hanging out with friends and family, throwing around a ball and just hanging out are a great part of the game. At least it is in my family. I have a son that doesn’t like sports all that much, but he rarely misses a game, because he knows it is important to me, and it is a chance for he and I to spend some time together. I appreciate that more then he will ever know.

Football has given me a chance to see several areas of the country as my brothers and I, along with our dad have had the good fortune to travel to many away games. That has been a great chance for us emotionally closed men to bond. I have to remember that because I love Saturday football games in the Fall, it isn’t for everyone. I should have never “surprised” Jeri with a trip to Rice/Eccles stadium and a game time bratwurst for her birthday one year. In my defense it was our first year of marriage and she didn’t have a chance to properly train me. However this year she got the same “birthday surprise”, what a great women to put up with me for 20 years with surprises like that! Jeri has also learned that there is more to the game then a bunch of over sized sweaty guys running into each other and hugging.

So by way of advice let me say a few things. Season tickets to your favorite team is a great birthday gift, if you’re a guy. Stadiums are the only place on earth where all the favorite “guy” food can be found in one place, that alone makes it a truly special place to be. Spending $52 dollars for donuts for a weekend road game is totally reasonable. We guys really do need a different team shirt for each day of the week. And occasionally a foam finger, painted belly, or even a cheese head are acceptable fashion statements in the right setting. Thanks for listening……Brad

Book Signings

2010-10-06T11:17:00.000-07:00

Recently I came across a subject of discussion on one of the writers lines I belong to. While I didn’t participate in the subject but was merely a lurker, It was interesting to me to read all the comments being said on this particular subject.

Apparently what started the discussion was a new author was about to embark on their first book signing and was asking for any helpful hints and suggestions to make their first book signing a success.

Many people wrote in with ideas – some of which I will share—but the topic of discussion got me thinking a bit.

It doesn’t seem like all that long ago I was asking the very same question of my friend Kerry Blair. I was about to do my first book signing and I had no idea what I was up against.

As always, Kerry gave me some helpful hints that have stuck with me and with time I have learned a few things along the way.

I know that if I were to ask each author on this blog, I believe that each of us would agree that with our book signings, we have all had those signings that gave us experiences that we will never forget, that we have met people along the way that have changed our lives in one way or another, and that there are times that we would look back at now and just plain laugh at or cherish the memory.

It’s a few of those that I want to share.

For starters… I remember at one particular book signing I walked into the store. They were obviously unprepared for me to arrive as there was no table set up for me, no poster to announce I’d be there, etc. I walked to the desk where the girl at the counter was helping a long line of customers. I had my hands full. I had brought a basket of flowers, (my main character was into landscaping- a small flower was given to each person who had me sign a book and to each sales clerk upon my leaving) I also had a jar of candy to help decorate my table, and a book of mint brownies for the store staff with a saying “I mint to tell you thank you for allowing me to come to your store today!”

As I stood there ready to drop everything, I overheard the girl at the counter going on and on about the wonderful author coming to the store to do a signing. She was EXTREMELY complimentary about the incredible writing talent of this mystery writer, how she can never figure out who the bad guy is, etc.

In the meantime, I was thrilled with the way she was gushing on and on about me. The customers kept looking over at me as they waited in line and my heart soared with this girl’s admiration of my talent.

Finally, one customer asked the author’s name. I was puffed up in pride by this time. The clerk looked up and said, “Betsy Brannon Green—she’ll be here next week and you just have to come back and meet her!” she squealed with excitement.

Lesson learned- Stay humble. I look back at that time and it certainly keeps me grounded. They had forgotten I was even coming that day.

Book signing hint- It’s the staff that sells your book. You want to leave them with a good impression. I have always tried to remember that. You are only there for a short time, but they are there every day. Letting them know you appreciate what they do in your behalf is beneficial to you. It’s them that gets your book into the hands of the readers. That being said, of course there are those that have made a name for themselves because of their talent alone. Me? I need all the help I can get!

At another book signing I had a gentleman come up and ask me all about my book. He acted genuinely interested in the plot and the background of how I came up with the storyline. I also noticed he went through the entire jar of candy as we talked, leaving all the wrappers from the candy crumbled all over the table. At the end of the candy he said, “Yeah well, I don’t read that kind of stuff anyway.” He acted disgusted by my book. I know he liked the candy though—

As for meeting people along the way—there are those signings that we get to meet people who want to meet us. Those are the ones who will buy the book and then write to you and tell you to keep at it. They keep you going. They keep you from getting discouraged and keep you from giving up.

Lesson learned—as writers we are our own worst critic. Life gets in our way and takes up our time. We write for the love of it, for the challenges it brings. There are those who lift you up and encourage you to never give up. They make it all worth it.

Book signing hint—I always try to give some sort of give away at my book signings that go with the plot of the book as a thank you for buying the book. While this certainly isn’t necessary, It’s just a fun thing that I like to do. I didn’t do it with my first book, my second book was the flowers, the third, Kerry Blair helped me come up with the idea and we gave away troll dolls—which had to do with the storyline.

I have seen other authors do this as well. I loved Kerry’s book party when she gave party bags away with her Samantha Shade series – they had puzzles and pencils and treats in them.

Michele bell gave away butterfly boxes when she began her Butterfly series.I love the box that Michele gave me.

While doing things is a personal choice, I do think it’s nice to have a little candy dish out or something to decorate your table with. Sometimes the candy only brings people over to meet you, but hey, it’s a nice way to meet people too. :)

Other hints that authors suggested was checking to spell names correctly—even common names can be spelled differently.

Some use a matching pen that matches the cover art.

Some authors will sign with clever saying that have to do with the plot or series, while others will sign a personal message to family and friends.

I could go on and on about this topic. Not because of my vast knowledge—I’m afraid I lack there—but more because I have had some really fun experiences and I have some very choice memories of book signings—like the Clinton signing when I was in awe while doing a signing with so many of my favorite authors. It was such a wonderful experience for me to be among them.

The last experience I want to touch on is the signing that changes your life in one way or another. For me that would be when I went to a book signing. Not of my own, but to have one of my favorite authors sign one of my favorite books.

It was a Saturday morning I had gone to the Seagull store on 5400 So. And Redwood Road I had gone there to buy the next book in the Heart series by Kerry Blair. I had read them out of order but loved them so much I wanted them all. A saleslady told me Kerry would be in later that day to sign if I wanted to come back. I debated it back and forth but finally decided, as scared as I was to meet her, I wanted to tell her I loved her books and had always wanted to be a writer.

Long story short, I went back and from that book signing, Kerry Blair has changed my life for the good.

Not only has she taught me most of what I know about the world of writing, for without her I would have never gotten a book on the shelves, but my life is so much better because she is in it.

She has introduced me to some of my very best friends that I now have—each of whom I consider a blessing in my life—and has opened a whole new world for me.

Lesson learned—There are angels in this world that come and touch our lives for good and no matter how you try, no matter what you say, there are just no words to express your love and gratitude for what they mean to you.

Book signing hint-I decided a long time ago that it doesn’t matter how many books I sell at a book signing. I need to be in it for the experience. There are times that I have done a signing where people refuse to make eye contact. They’ll walk past me as if they can’t move away from me fast enough. Then there are times where I have signed one book right after another. Either way, I have met some wonderful people that I’ll never forget, I have some choice memories, but most of all, I have enjoyed the journey.

Youth Conference

2010-08-11T11:19:00.000-07:00

My youngest son was asked to be a speaker at a devotional for our youth conference this year.

As a mother, I am quite proud of the way he gathered his thoughts together as he tried to speak on how the theme of the conference can help him in his life. So, I have taken the liberty to ask him to be a guest blogger and share with us the theme for youth conference and also share with us his thoughts (and his talk) that he gave. So, introducing, my youngest son, Bryan:

This year’s theme is, “Be strong and of good courage. Do not be afraid, neither be dismayed. For the Lord thy God is with thee wherever thou goest”

This theme can be a big help in my life because of the challenges I have.

I’ve had three brain surgeries because I have seizures. At one point in my life, I was having up to twenty seven seizures a day and who knows how many at night. Even after taking medication to slow them down, it was unsuccessful, so it was decided our only option was surgery.

These surgeries have made it difficult for me to explain what I think and how I feel. It’s also difficult for me to understand language skills. So learning and reading is a real challenge for me.

One surgery caused me to have a stroke. This affected my balance so playing sports is pretty difficult. To top it off, I still have seizures, but not as many as I used to.

My challenges can be discouraging at times and I don’t always feel like I fit in.

I have a motto whenever I have to face challenges or problems and that is to, “Face your fears.” I say that to myself and then I say a prayer to my Heavenly Father. I know He will give me the courage I need to overcome my fears and face my challenge head on. At those times He always sends me comfort and strength.

I have also been given Priesthood Blessings. I have seen what the power of the Priesthood can do. I have seen miracles in my life because of those blessings.

I know I have my trials. I have had these challenges my whole life. But I also know that my Heavenly Father is there to help me with my challenges. I believe he hurts when I hurt and he is there to lift me up when I need him the most. I know he has been there throughout my life. I am so grateful to him and I love him for helping me and blessing me through my challenges and trials.

I know he will do the same for each of you, because he loves you too.

Good Things to Come

2010-07-13T22:14:00.000-07:00

I tried to gather my thoughts together, wishing to come up with a topic to blog about.

I have to admit I had one post I had previously started, knowing my turn to blog was fast approaching. However, as I tried to finish it, nothing really came out sounding the way I wanted it to.

Instead, my mind kept wandering to other thoughts. That is, that so many of my dearest friends, or their families, and even members within my own family are facing many difficult challenges at this time.

While each and every one of us hold each other in our thoughts and prayers, often times I feel so limited with my words to offer and support.

So, I went searching. It was fairly easy thanks to modern day technology (the internet) and that great Church site we have – lds.org. I found a message from Elder Jeffery R. Holland entitled, Good Things to Come.

When I listened to this wonderful message, it made me smile, it touched my heart, and it gave me asense of renewed hope. I found the strength and comfort. It was a gentle reminder, and one I needed to hear at the moment.

To all my friends and loved ones who are facing their own set of challenges, I hope you know how much I love you and that I care. I hope Elder Holland’s message uplifts you the same way that it did for me.

First Impressions

2010-07-08T08:54:00.000-07:00

While recently working in the Temple cafeteria, I had the wonderful experience of serving dinner to Elder Richard G. Scott, Sister Madsen, (the sweet widow of Brother Truman R. Madsen) and their guest whom I am unsure but I suspect was a grandson of one of theirs.

I loved serving them and visiting with them. All were very complimentary of the food and service. It was such a pleasure to be in their company.

Upon returning to the kitchen, I was told by my fellow worker I had a green thing stuck in the middle of my teeth. Now, this was no small thing, it was a great big piece of leafy green lettuce. I was horrified considering the company I had just been in. Such is the way things go for me… I can laugh it off--several days later. But it has me thinking about first impressions.

First of all, I looked up the meaning of first impressions: It is a first consideration or judgment.

We are told we are not to “judge” or that we are to judge in righteousness. As I think of the definition and this warning coupled with the definition of “first impressions”—particularly the word judgment I can’t help but think how I am rarely correct with my first impressions of people. I find that often times those who I am most nervous to meet; that I feel intimidated by, are often the most down to earth and lovable people. In fact, it is true that in a some instances there are people I was terrified to meet, because I admired them so much for their talents, that turned out to be completely wonderful just by being themselves and not just defined by their talents. They became my some of my best friends. I admired them for first being who they are.

Then there are those who I feel I may have much in common with, seem to be the ones I end up least connected to and often the simple things we have in common, may in fact be our only link.

I have learned very well, to pay little heed to my first impressions, as they usually end up being nothing more than snap judgments and I would hate to lose out on some of the wonderful friendships I could have had because of a wrong first impression. (There is of course an exception to this rule when a first impression warns you that a person is dangerous or could harm you, etc. in that case I would pay very close attention and follow that prompting!)

If I have such a hard time with making a correct first impression, then do others have a difficult time as well? How do others perceive me for the first time? It makes me wonder. I may score more points if I don’t walk around with big green things hanging between my front teeth…

I have read that it takes 30 seconds to two minutes for people to make up their minds about you. This may be way overestimating things. I have also read it takes seven seconds to seventeen seconds to make a first impression. Whichever is correct, that doesn’t give a person much time to make a lasting consideration or to have a judgment placed on them. I do know that it is said, “You don’t get a second chance to make a good first impression.”

I found an article written by Bill Lampton who has a PhD,. He made a list of seven things that make a good strong first impression. I won’t quote him of the article in it’s entirety, nor will I quote him word for word in places, but I thought the ideas were good. And if I may, I’d like to add and eighth one to the list at the bottom. So here we go:

1. The greatest way to make a positive first impression is to demonstrate immediately that the other person, not you, is the center of action and conversation. --He says if the spotlight is only on you you’ll miss opportunities for friendships, jobs, networking, and sales, etc. If you show that you are other- centered people will want to see you again.

2. Closely related: Use superb listening skills. Using prompts like, “How interesting!” or “What did you do next?” shows excellent listening skills and positive verbal cues. Maintain eye contact and avoid looking over your shoulder for an escape route.

3. Using the name of a new acquaintance shows you paid attention from the start. It also makes the conversation more personal.

4. Be careful with Humor. Although a quip or two may serve as an icebreaker, you don’t want sarcasm to backfire. You don’t know a stranger’s sensitivities.

5. Follow Dr. Wayne Dryer’s advice, offered in his in his book “Real Magic,” by “giving up the need to be right.” Confrontations with someone you’ve just met will spoil any rapport you can have. Wait until you can establish credibility before you challenge another’s statements.

6. Appearance counts. What he had to say here applied more for work or job interviews. But I still think the way we take care of ourselves portrays a message no matter where we are.

7. As a communication specialist, I have to point out that an individual’s speaking style impacts a first impression, maybe more than we wish—listeners judge our intelligence, our education, our cultural level, even our leadership abilities on the words we select-- and by the way we say them.

8. And the one I wanted to add was to not walk around with green things in your teeth. Perhaps this falls under the appearance category?

I do know that I tend to joke around a lot and I know I take for granted that people know where my heart is at. I would never mean to intentionally hurt or mistreat any one. But what of first impressions? Number four caught my attention and so did a few of the others on this list. And it all started with #8.

I know that I’ll be more mindful of my first considerations of people because to me, no second chances at giving a good first impressions seems—well, it just seems a little too judgmental for my peace of mind. :)

A Father's Day Tribute

2010-06-16T20:33:00.000-07:00

I am certainly counting my blessings this week. As the weekend draws near and Father’s Day is rapidly approaching, I feel very grateful that I have both my father and my father in law in my life here to honor on that special day.

I have always been close to my dad. Growing up a bit of a tomboy, I could be found outside as soon as my inside chores were done. I’d stay out until I was forced back into the house in the late evening.

As kids we played baseball, did balancing acts and cartwheels along the top of the fences, ran around barefoot (until my mother would catch us and then I’d slip shoes on but only until she wasn’t looking again) I loved following my dad around driving him crazy with millions of senseless questions.

He was always involved with some project or another whether it was building barns, planting gardens, landscaping, taking care of all kinds of animals, building fish ponds and water falls. As a child, I thought he did the coolest things. Years later, at the age of 81, he is still doing most of those things and I have come to appreciate those talents of his even more. My dad may have an incredibly creative side to him, but there is so much more to admire.

When my mother passed away, it was pretty tough on him, as I know it is on everyone who loses a loved one. But after losing my mother, his wife, my dad, stepped in and tried to take over where my mother had left off. This was no easy task. She was like wonder woman and my dad was dealing with a broken heart. Still, each year, because Christmas was my mother’s favorite holiday, he has a big open house for neighbors and friends during the holidays. He serves refreshments and does it on a Monday night so people can come for Family Home Evening. The kids can see his Christmas village, that takes him over a week to set up, that comes complete with two running trains.

He keeps a calendar of family events so he won’t forget birthdays, anniversaries, and always makes sure he sends Mother’s Day cards and Valentine’s Day cards to his daughter’s and their families.

He is truly a man with a good heart. I love my dad for teaching me that when I serve others. I am serving my savior. Those are not just words he taught, he taught by example. He himself would give the shirt off his back if he knew someone was in need. I can’t tell you how many times he has helped me when I was in need.

I could go on and on but the one thing that strikes me is that for his 80th birthday, we made a DVD of his life. At the end of it, we recorded my dad giving a message to his family. The one message he wanted us to always remember if wewere to remember one thing, it would be, “To keep the faith. No matter what, just hang in there and keep the faith.” Throughout my life, when I have had struggles or trials my dad has given me much needed help and advice. He would talk to me, help me, tell me to pray, and, “Jeri, keep the faith.” One thing is for certain, my father has always kept the faith. His testimony makes him the honorable man that he is.

I am very grateful for the role my father plays in my life and in the life of my family. I can’t begin to find the words to tell you how blessed I feel to have him with us this Father’s Day. I am also thankful for the example he is to us.

I feel so wonderfully blessed to have my father in law in our lives as well. He too is such an amazing man. He has fought a battle with cancer with incredible courage. Steve is a man with charm and humor. He has wisdom and is full of wit and an inner strength and testimony that has had a great influence on his family. My husband is the tremendous man he is, I believe, because of the example his father is to him.

I love and admire my husband for so, so, many reasons but one big one is the kind of father he has been to our sons. He is an honorable man and has tried hard to establish a good relationship with his sons. He has tried to teach them to make good choices and to live in righteousness. Through his example he has tried to teach them to honor their Priesthood as he, himself does. Now my oldest son will enjoy his first official Father’s Day with his own son.

What more can a girl ask for? Is it any wonder that as Father’s Day rolls around, my heart is very full for the wonderful blessings I enjoy? I have some wonderful men in my life. I’m thrilled to celebrate this day, to try to express my gratitude for the great fathers in my life.

Taps

2010-06-02T21:09:00.000-07:00

As the sun rises over the mountains, one can hear the haunting melody of Taps being played by a lone bugler in the quiet little cemetery of Mona, Utah. The bugler comes to play every Memorial Day in honor of the service men and women buried there.

Our family has a tradition of going to the cemetery on Memorial Day to see the sunrise ceremony. The flag is raised at half mast, we hear the gun salute and listen to the famous military piece Taps played before we place flowers on loved ones gravesites.

Listening to the bugle play always brings a lump to my throat, tears to my eyes, and pride in my heart. My father served in the Air Force for four years, two of which were in a war zone in Korea where he saw the devastating effects of war both among people and land. He has a deep appreciation for our country, for it’s service men and women and therefore tried to instill within his own family that same appreciation. He is considering a military burial when that time comes as an expression of love for his country and the way he tried to live within it.

There is quite a story circulating in regards to the origin of the melody of Taps. The story is as follows:
It all began in 1862 during the Civil War, when Union Army Captain Robert Ellicombe was with his men near Harrison's Landing in Virginia. The Confederate Army was on the other side of the narrow strip of land. During the night, Captain Ellicombe heard the moans of a soldier who lay severely wounded on the field. Not knowing if it was a Union or Confederate soldier, the Captain decided to risk his life and bring the stricken man back for medical attention. Crawling on his stomach through the gunfire, the Captain reached the stricken soldier and began pulling him toward his encampment. When the Captain finally reached his own lines, he discovered it was actually a Confederate soldier, but the soldier was dead. The Captain lit a lantern and suddenly caught his breath and went numb with shock. In the dim light, he saw the face of the soldier. It was his son. The boy had been studying music in the South when the war broke out. Without telling his father, the boy enlisted in the Confederate Army. The following morning, heartbroken, the father asked permission of his superiors to give his son a full military burial, despite his enemy status. His request was only partially granted. The Captain had asked if he could have a group of Army band members play a funeral dirge for his son at the funeral. The request was turned down since the soldier was a Confederate. But, out of respect for the father, they did say they could give him only one musician. The Captain chose a bugler. He asked the bugler to play a series of musical notes he had found on a piece of paper in the pocket of the dead youth's uniform. This wish was granted. The haunting melody, is what we now know as "Taps."

While the story is certainly touching, historians have checked the facts only to find the story is merely a legend. Actually, according to a researcher from West Point, there is no historical evidence that a Captain by the name of Robert Ellicombe even existed in the Union Army. Historians from Arlington National Cemetery agree that the song did indeed originate in 1862 and it was while at Harrison’s Landing in Virginia, that the piece was written but that is where the facts in this story ends.

Taps was written by Brig. General Daniel Butterfield, an American Civil War General. The bugle call was to signal to the soldiers "lights out." Oliver W. Norton, Butterfield’s bugler, was the first to sound the new call. Within only a couple of months of it being written, both Union and Confederate armies used the call.

Today Taps can be heard at the conclusion of Military burials conducted with honors at Arlington National Cemetery, hundreds of ceremonies at cemeteries around the United States and at private funerals.

Each year Taps is sounded during the wreath ceremony at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldiers, and it is still played nightly at military installations in non-deployed locations to signal "lights out."

However, there is one more account that involves a man by the name of John C. Tidball. He was a Union artillery captain who ordered the call to be sounded for a fallen soldier.
Army Col. James A. Moss, in an Officer's Manual initially published in 1911, reported the following account:

"During the Peninsula Campaign in 1862, a soldier of Tidball's Battery A of the 2nd Artillery was buried at a time when the battery occupied an advanced position concealed in the woods. It was unsafe to fire the customary three volleys over the grave, on account of the proximity of the enemy, and it occurred to Capt. Tidball that the sounding of Taps would be the most appropriate ceremony that could be substituted."

This may not have anything to do with the origin of the song, it is however, the first recorded instance of Taps being used in accord with a military funeral. Until then the call sounded meant that the solider’s day was done.

How fitting then, that if the call signifies that a solider’s day is done and it is time for lights to be put out, that the very same call is sounded one last time as that soldier or veteran is laid to rest. I think of the connotations this has with death. As they are laid to rest, the day is done, lights out, they are now laid safely to rest. It is not only honorable for those who have served, but it can be quite emotional for the family to hear their loved one respected in such a way. To have the call sounded, we are called to remember those who have given us so much that far too often we take for granted.

While the original version of the call was of course an instrumental piece, lyrics were added later. These words were written by Horace Lorenzo Trim:

Fading light dims the sight
And a star gems the sky, gleaming bright
From afar drawing nigh,
Falls the night.

Day is done, gone the sun
From the lakes, from the hills, from the sky
All is well, safely rest;
God is nigh.

Then goodnight, peaceful night;
Till the light of the dawn shineth bright.
God is near, do not fear,
Friend, goodnight.

Another verse of lyrics were added to a recording done by John Wayne, though it is unclear who wrote the words of the verse:

Fading light, Falling night;
Trumpet call, as the sun, sinks in flight
Sleep in peace, comrade dear,
God is near.

As we walked away from the ceremony, we looked at the gravesites of those who have gone before us. The cemetery is a beautiful resting place rich with history. Gravestones now weathered and aged date back to the early 1800’s. Many have short poetic statements rarely found on markers anymore. It’s not only interesting but educational to walk through the graveyard, reading the headstones found there.

There are men, some merely boys, and women as well, who fought and gave their lives so that I may have mine. And they are still doing it today. May I never forget that and be forever grateful for it.

My Tribute

2010-05-05T17:21:00.000-07:00

Mother’s Day is just around the corner. I believe it was Abraham Lincoln that said, “All that I am and all that I hope to be I owe to my angel mother.” What a beautiful thought.

Without my mother being here to remind me of all I hope to be, which is to be just like her, I can only hope that all that I am is someone she can be proud of.

As I sit here today, thinking about my own mother, I think of all that she accomplished in her life. I have an endless list of ways I would like to be more like her, but the very first thought that comes to my mind in connection with my mother is her unwavering faith and the strength of her testimony.

She taught us from the time we were little to always kneel in prayer. It was a way to show respect. When she became bedridden near the end of her life on this earth, she could hardly move. Yet, twice a day she would roll herself over and tuck her knees up under her to humbly pray in her kneeling position. It was important for her show her love and reverence to our Father in Heaven. I will never forget that vision of my ailing mother. It brings a whole new insight to the Primary song the children sing,

“I see my mother kneeling with our family each day. I hear the words she whispers as she bows her head to pray. Her plea to our Father quiets all my fears and I am thankful love is spoken here.”

I went through the Temple for the first time on my mother’s birthday. I am grateful for the blessings that special day has brought into my life. Now I am a mother and a grandmother. There is no greater joy that I know of than sharing family times together.

So, on this lovely weekend that is upon us, I feel a bit emotional that I don’t have my mother here to share it with. But I am so very grateful for the rewards of motherhood. Both in the example of my own mother— for all that I hope to be— and in the blessings I receive through my children and my grandson. May I be to them all that my own mother is to me.

BOOK REVIEW

2010-04-27T16:54:00.000-07:00

The Thorn, book one of The Chronicles of Gan

Three tribes are at war on the planet Gan, unaware that the sign of Christ’s birth on an unknown world – Earth – is about to appear in the heavens.
During a bloody skirmish with Gideonite troops, Jonathan of Daniel spares Pekah, a young enemy soldier, gaining his trust forever. These two distant brothers from estranged tribes covenant with each other to end the war being waged by a self-proclaimed emperor, and soon discover the intentions of a far more dangerous foe named Rezon – a sinister general bent on ruling those he can bring into subjection and destroying all others In the end, Pekah’s selfless bravery is the means by which all the tribes are united. But there are dissenters, and Rezon escapes a well-deserved fate. When the promised heavenly signs appear, will there be peace at last, or will the malefactors once again threaten the safety of them all? (Valor Publishing)

I have to admit I read very little speculative fiction but this book has opened my eyes. From the beginning, The Thorn caught my attention and kept it until I turned to the very last page.

There are similarities and symbolisms in The Thorn much like the scriptures. Those who like scripture type stories told through fiction with thoroughly enjoy Daron Fraley’s book. It’s an excellent example where the good conquers the bad and righteousness prevails.

I do have to add one thing… in the back of the book there is a sneak preview of Heaven’s Garden, which is book two of
The Chronicles of Gan. (I HAD to read it!) Oh my goodness! It looks like it’s going to be another winner for Daron!

To purchase this book, here is the link:http://www.amazon.com/Thorn-Book-One-Chronicles-Gan/dp/1935546112/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1269972452&sr=8-1

BOOK REVIEW

2010-04-12T18:24:00.000-07:00

I'LL KNOW YOU BY HEART

If you follow my blog at all, you’ll notice I don’t review a lot of books. To date, I have reviewed exactly one. I’d like to start to review a lot more since I’m always reading and I LOVE books. So to begin with, I’d like to thank Valor Publishing for offering me this opportunity to read and review Kimberly Job’s debut novel, “I’ll Know You By Heart”

The book begins with a view into the abusive marriage of Stephanie Roberts and her husband Mark. The scene tears at your heart strings (and is written so realistically it makes you feel pain inside) as Stephanie’s teenage son tries to defend his mother from his father. For the first time Mark takes his anger out on his son as well.

In an effort to protect her children, Stephanie finds a way to run from her husband and narrowly escapes with her three children.

Stephanie does all she can to make a new start for herself and her children. This is not an easy task and of course an angered, bitter, husband makes things even more difficult. First Mark is determined to get Stephanie and his kids back, and then he is determined to make her pay for leaving him.

Jared Wakefield’s wife was killed in a car accident leaving him to help their young daughter deal with the loss of her mother. He is not without a few problems of his own.

Stephanie and Jared come together not realizing they had known each other before. Jared turns to Stephanie for help with his daughter, Stephanie turns to Jared for support—Jared soon realizes he needs more from Stephanie than she might feel she can give. There are so many difficult problems to overcome, how can being together ever be a possibility?

I have to be honest—when I first saw the book, I was excited to read and review it. I love romances and figured that that was what I’d be reading. When I picked up the book to begin, I had no idea what I was in for.

I thought I’d be reading a love story, but it was that and so much more.

I’ll Know you By Heart is a powerful, emotional, story about the impact abuse can have on lives. It’s about having the inner strength to overcome betrayal of love and trust. This book is about loss and struggle. It is indeed a story ultimately about love and what’s more, it’s a story about hope.

It's an excellent book that I highly recommend! I look forward to more books from this author! Well done, Kimberly!

Here is the order link: http://www.amazon.com/Ill-Know-You-Heart-Kimberly/dp/1935546139/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1269976374&sr=8-1

Limits

2010-04-07T14:55:00.000-07:00

I felt limited. Perhaps they were limits I had set upon myself, limits that my circumstances had placed upon me, and maybe even limits that were of my imagination because I had become too sensitive to everything that was going on around me. But nonetheless, I felt the burden of my limited state and it was causing such an intense feeling of frustration and I guess, even fear.

I needed a new job. That sounds pretty simple, but there were so many facets to that one main problem. I no longer work at the Jordan River Temple. I still work within the church but I was transferred to a new place of employment almost nine months ago and for far too many reasons to go into, circumstances had led for me to look for employment once again elsewhere. But after over thirteen years of working in food service—and needing to get into a new type of work—I was limited on what I was qualified to do. I needed something that didn’t require me to constantly be on my feet and legs, (yes, limited to the length of time I could stand) so maybe an office job of some sort? Here’s the kicker, I am a horrible typist and I don’t know several of the computer programs…limited, again. I do have over ten years of experience in that line of work—before my Temple days, that I thought at least that could give me some sort of credit on my resume, but the few applications I sent in, hoping for an interview, sent me a rejection before I even got my foot in the door. Limited—and insulted—and now discouraged.

Things haven’t changed. At least job hunting hasn’t, but I have come across something that has changed me.

I didn’t think that asking for a new job under the circumstances was so much to ask my Heavenly Father for. In my situation, I felt like it was a righteous desire. I realize how petty that sounds, even as I type it. I am really putting myself out there to admit that. I hate flaunting my weaknesses. But I needed my job—Heavenly Father knows all the reasons why. After all, I’ve moaned and groaned often enough to Him about it. He knows I have this job but He knows I can no longer work at this one. He knows all the reasons why. Again, I have explained all this to Him. I petitioned my Heavenly Father so many times for better days, for better jobs, for better health, for better anything that I got to the point that I didn’t even know what to petition Him for anymore.

I fasted and I prayed and then received a blessing. Then I went to some of my closest friends. Within minutes they were all there offering me comfort, advice, and support. As I pondered all that had been said, I started taking a closer look at my situation.

My eyes went directly to my son. He too was going through some of his own challenges at this time with seizures. Taking a closer look I was once again amazed by him. He too has limits, but he has such a tremendous spirit that refuses to give up. He is constantly finding ways to work around his barriers so that he can achieve all that he sets out to accomplish. He lives his life to the fullest and he does so with faith and hope and even laughter. He is as carefree as he can possibly be and when he does have limits, he only lets them bring him to a halt for a second before he figures out another way to work around them.

It made me stop and ponder. All those times I wondered if my prayers were heard, (yes, I know they were—I was just having a pity party and getting tired of being told no—but really, was I being told no? I don’t think so.) I now think of something my Bishop asked, am I forcing my will on the Lord’s? Yes, in many ways. I was. I wanted to get out of Dodge right then and there. Before going to that job, I had prayed and fasted about going there and I know with all my heart, I was meant to go there for whatever reason. Every time I felt it was time to leave, in my heart I felt it wasn’t time but my head and my knees and my feet said it was. I applied for jobs I knew I wasn’t qualified for thinking that if I had an interview I could beg for a job and tell them I’d go back to school and learn whatever they wanted me to. It doesn’t work that way; I know that. But I was desperate.

Well, with renewed hope I have undergone a real attitude adjustment. This is in thanks to some people I love dearly- namely my son, my husband, my dad, my friends, Bishop and of course, my Heavenly Father.

I know the things I cannot do, and in the things I need to try. I want to have the kind of spirit that my son has. To love and live life with the joy and attitude that he does and not be so hard and cynical on myself. It doesn’t matter what limits we may have, it’s how we work around them and what we do to work with them that matters and especially to have a thankful spirit for the bounteous blessings we enjoy. I have a job. For now, until I can find what it is I need, I am so thankful that in these troubled times I do indeed have a good job for a really wonderful company. I should have been more thankful to begin with. I have learned that valuable lesson as well.

I did find a quote in a talk I read once though the person who said it is not listed so I am unsure if the speaker wrote it or what but the talk was given by Stephen Jason Hall.

The quote says, “ The greater man is not the one with a hundred blessings which he takes for granted, but the man with one blessing who praises his God for his bounty.”

I still pray for the things I need, but more so, I pray for a grateful heart and the strength in spirit to keep the faith and refuse to give up. My son taught me that.

"Twitter" Me Dumb!

2010-03-24T19:39:00.000-07:00

Recently I have received several invitations from friends inviting me to join them on Face book and Linked In.

I hear kids at my son’s school walking down the hall speaking of “tweeting” someone back on Twitter. (Back in my day Tweetie was the yellow bird that always saw a puddy tat) Let me insert here to emphasize my point that I never dreamed of the time when I would say, “Back in my day…”

Every package you purchase with a cell whether it’s a Blackberry, Droid, or I-phone (like I even know what some of these are…) includes texting, Internet access, and email.

If you aren’t on board in the technological world, you could feel very lost. I unfortunately am one of the lost souls. I am way behind in the times.

On the other hand, as an author, look at what technology can do for us. Research is a matter of clicking and typing a few buttons on the computer as opposed to pouring through volumes of books in a library to verify facts.

Reaching people across the world is as simple as sitting down at a computer and using messenger and if you have the right equipment, you can even see the person with whom you are communicating half a world away all at the cost of a minimal monthly Internet access charge.

You can travel the world over and do virtual tours without ever leaving your living room. (It’s true that you still miss so much when you don’t experience the real thing, but when time, money, health, or other reasons factor against you going, what an excellent second choice!)

Your characters can walk the walk, and talk the talk of just about any plot or profession you can imagine if you do your homework thoroughly enough --all made simpler by technology without you as a writer ever having had any like experiences.

Modern day technology is certainly advanced enough that if used unwisely it can lead to trouble, but as a writer, it can make our lives so much easier. The world is at our fingertips.

My problem is keeping up with the fast pace in which technology is expanding. I still struggle with typing on a normal keyboard, let alone a tiny pocket sized cell phone. I’m terrified of Face book because I don’t understand it, and Twitter makes me feel like I am Twitter Dee-Dumb. I confess, I don’t even know for sure what Twitter is, let alone how to use it.

I do know that with the wide use of technology, we have a greater chance of getting our names and our books out to a much wider group of people. We can have a personal contact with each and every one of those people if we so wish. To me, that’s exciting. At one time it was inconceivable. Look how far we have come even in our own lifetime.
If you look back on your own life span, I am sure you would be amazed at the advancements technology has made since you were a child.

In a very real sense, technology has made the world a much smaller place. We can all connect with each other…if you know how. :)

Ice Castles

2010-02-24T20:01:00.000-08:00

We came upon it by accident, but when we drove up to the forty foot ice castle, we couldn’t believe our eyes.

Last Monday my family and I decided to take a drive up to Heber valley to visit an ailing aunt. When we found she wasn’t home, but rather had gone to stay with her son, we decided to go for a drive around the area.

Near the Homestead in Midway, there is a hotel called the Zermatt Resort. There in the front of the resort are the most incredible ice formations I have ever seen.

We immediately parked the car to get a closer look. If you pay $2.00 a person, you can walk on a path that winds around eighteen ice castles or towers and two hot springs.

What’s even more amazing is that the castles are made entirely out of icicles which were harvested with a sprinkler system and PVC pipe. There is no supporting structure. The detail of each castle is unbelievable when they light up the massive structures at night. Brilliant shiny colors are illuminated through the icy walls giving it a beautiful, almost surreal look. It’s most impressive.

Each castle grows 10-12 tons per day and their sculptor, a man by the name of Brent Christensen hopes that each one reaches between 30-40 feet in height. The largest, known as tower No.7 is one that you can walk through. When the weather is just right, the castles can grow up to three feet in a day. Brent works mainly at night sculpting away at the castles and working to keep the paths safe.

This is the last week the Zermatt Resort will offer us the opportunity to see the Ice Castles. With warmer weather coming, the path through the castles will no longer be safe. If you have the chance and you are in the area, I highly recommend stopping by to see it.

The older I get, the less I like the cold. But with something this beautiful to look at, I’m actually looking forward to seeing what creations Mr. Christensen comes up with next year.
(Photo courtesy of Deseret News)

Memories Are Made Of This

2010-02-10T19:26:00.000-08:00

I love Valentine’s Day. What a great day to remind those we love that we care about them and appreciate all they do for us. Okay, maybe we should do that every day, but I have to tell you—I know this sounds a little like bragging—but I have a young son who is going to make his future wife very happy one day. He’s one of those guys who love to spoil the girl in his life rotten. Luckily for me, right now, that’s his mother. :)

He is all for giving chocolates, perfume, flowers, homemade cards, favorite chick flick, a special dinner out, and a bear made at Build-A-Bear by him personally every year for Valentines Day. (He hasn’t offered to buy me a new house yet, I suspect that may be next. lol. He has a HUGE heart.) Granted, this can take quite a toll on the ol’ pocket book and half the fun is watching his dad squirm because, although dad doesn’t deny that his mother deserves the very best on this very special day, ALL of these things together can add up very quickly. In the end, it’s fun to see what the two of them come up with. They are both very good to me. In all truthfulness the very idea that my son would even think of wanting to do so much, touches me more than words can say.

However, there is something that makes me sad this year. Ever since my boys were young, I, along with each boy have had a blast thinking up crazy designs for their Valentine boxes that they would take to school each year. The more crazy and outlandish they were, the better. Wow! What good times we’ve had.

One year when Pirates of the Caribbean was so popular, we made a treasure chest full of coins and jewels. Another time we made a basket ball hoop complete with a basket ball, there was a guitar hero looking guitar, and we even made a toilet complete with bath rug and flusher that said “You make me feel all flushed.” We had some crazy boxes, but what meant more to me was the time I spent with each of my son’s making their boxes with them.

Well, after years of drawing, cutting, and gluing, my boys have grown up and those creating adventures are now only memories. My oldest is married and has a child of his own and my other son is going to his first Junior High Valentine’s Day dance. Gosh, I hate to see little things like this come to an end. We had such fun.

I still love Valentine’s Day and all that it represents. This year when I give my boys their Valentine’s, I’ll probably hug them a moment or two longer and tell them thanks for the memories that I have. I certainly cherish them.

“Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back
and realize they were the big things.”

Temple Service

2010-01-27T16:16:00.000-08:00

This month our Bishop has asked our ward to do an exciting service.
There are those within our ward boundary that are striving to become temple worthy.
There are those within our ward boundary that are temple recommend holders who do not partake of the temple blessings by attending the temple on a regular basis. And there are those within our ward boundary that have never been able to attend the temple. I suspect it is the same within all ward boundaries.
Our Bishop has asked each of our ward families to fast for all of these people.

He placed a calendar on his door and families signed up for one day to fast within as families throughout the month of January into the month of February lasting for forty days. It’s in remembrance of the forty day fast our Savior did at the start of his ministry. At the end of the month, we’ll have a ward Temple Day. The youth will attend as youth groups and the adults will attend throughout the day. That evening we have a session and a banquet planned where we’ll have someone in the Temple Presidency speak to us.

We have set a goal as a family to increase our temple attendance and our fast was just this week. It was fun for us to do as a family because this year our son is old enough to attend the Temple and to learn to appreciate the importance of temple work.

This all started with a gift from our Bishop given to each family. It was a beautiful 8x10
picture of the temple to hang in our homes to remind us of the blessings that are ours if we will make the temple an important part of our lives. On the back is a letter from our Bishop with a quote by our prophet, President Thomas S. Monson:

“ Now my brothers and sisters, we have built temples throughout the world and will continue to do so. To you who are worthy and able to attend the Temple, I would admonish you to go often. The Temple is a place where we can find peace. There we receive a renewed dedication to the gospel and a strengthened resolve to keep the commandments.

What a privilege it is to be able to go to the temple, where we may experience the sanctifying influence of the Spirit of the Lord. Great service is given when we perform vicarious ordinances for those who have gone beyond the veil. In many cases we do not know those for whom we perform the work. We expect no thanks, nor do we have the assurance that they will accept that which we offer. However, we serve, and in that process we attain that which comes of no other effort: we literally become saviors on Mount Zion. As our Savior gave His life as a vicarious sacrifice for us, so we, in some small measure, do the same when we perform proxy work in the temple for those who have no means of moving forward unless something is done for them by those of us here on the earth.”

Wow. I was really moved by that statement when I read it. I recognize the tremendous blessings that have been promised as we attend the temple.

D&C 109:22 says: “Thy servant may go forth from this house armed with thy power and that thy name may be upon them and thy glory be round about them, and thine angels have charge over them.”

And one of my favorite quotes about Temple attendance is by Elder Vaughn J. Featherstone:

“I promise you that all who faithfully attend to temple work will be blessed beyond measure.
Your families will draw closer to the Lord, unseen angels will watch over your loved ones, when Satanic forces tempt them. The veil will be thin and great Spiritual experiences will distill upon this people.”

We are indeed a blessed people to have so many temples in such close proximity. I love the peace I feel when I attend the temple. No matter what seems to be going on in the world, I can walk within the doors of the temple, and find solace and comfort.

I love that our Bishop has asked us to do this service. I am so excited to strive to make temple attendance an even bigger priority within our family.

Turkey Triumph

2009-11-18T18:51:00.000-08:00

When we realized my mom would soon be leaving this earthly existence, I set about recording her life history on tape. (Many of you already know this..) I asked her every question I could think of and thought I had some valuable memories and information recorded.

It wasn’t until that following November (She passed away in July) and Thanksgiving was about a week away that I realized, with all the interviews and questions asked, I had forgotten to ask her for all of her cooking secrets for making the best tasting turkey and stuffing anyone could dream of.

That year, I had been crazy enough to offer to take on the task of cooking the turkey for our entire family. I thought it was important to carry on the Thanksgiving traditions that were always so dear to my mom. Though this was our first year without her, I thought we needed to be together as a family. It didn’t hit me I had no clue how to cook like mom did and I was sure that that’s exactly what the family was longing for—just like I was.

I learned a few lessons that year. For one, no matter if you have recipes written down follow it to a tee, nothing is as great as mom’s home cooking. (I had located mom’s stuffing recipe—I was so careful, still, mine didn’t taste the same) I set about asking anyone and everyone what their secrets were for the perfect moist turkey. Not knowing which would work best, I tried them all. I’m proud to announce the meat fell from the bones. Sorry, I had to brag—I have never cooked a turkey quite as good as I did that first year, even though every year since then I have attempted to follow the very same tricks. Go figure???

So with this blog, I want to make it’s purpose two fold. I am cooking again this year and would love to hear everyone’s secrets for the perfect turkey. I need another turkey triumph. So please! Send me your no-fail secrets and fast. I’m in trouble again!

The other purpose is this:

This is my last post before Thanksgiving so I feel I’d be ungrateful if I didn’t count a few of the blessings I am thankful for this Thanksgiving season. I’d love for you to share with us what you’re grateful for as well.

I had a wonderful opportunity of hearing a dear friend speak of gratitude through adversity. The talk she gave was tremendous and gave me much to ponder about.

She suggested writing a gratitude journal in which you list five things you are grateful for each day. These things cannot be repeated. It’s amazing how it opens your eyes to the bounteous blessings we have been given. (I believe she mentioned they did this on Oprah?)

At this time of year I am reminded that each of the struggles and trials I have in my own life gives me the opportunity to grow closer to my Savior, for which I am very grateful. I am grateful for a Savior who helps me to weather through the storms in my life and though the winds may come and toss me about, I know it is only for a season. (Also something my friend spoke of in her talk) I know these things are for my own good. They will give me experience and increase my faith.

I am truly blessed in my life to have a wonderful husband and family who put up with my quirky ways—I am grateful for their support in all I do, and I have such good friends who stand by me and help me—bless all their hearts for tolerating me.

I am grateful for my testimony, the atonement, and the peace that the gospel brings into my life; for the hope and direction I have because of it.

I am grateful for opportunities that have come my way; for the people who have helped make that possible, and the ones that have made my journey so enjoyable.

I am grateful to live in this country and for the freedoms I enjoy. I feel a great debt of gratitude to all those who have served our country to enable me the freedoms that I fear I may at times take for granted.

But before I end, I do want to say I am so thankful for my friends of the V-Formation. I consider their friendship an incredible blessing in my life. I love and admire each and every one of them. I am also thankful for the chance to gather my thoughts here (as haphazard as they may seem at times.) :)

I could go on and on, but I want to open it up to you. Here’s your chance to mention things you’re grateful for this year— and don’t forget, I need those turkey cooking secrets!

Have a safe and happy Thanksgiving!

Plum Crazy

2009-10-21T19:58:00.000-07:00

Lately I have taken notice that several people who contribute to this blog do a lot of canning. I am really impressed by the list of items they have preserved this season. Secretly, I am jealous as I am not much of a canning person. Though I LOVE seeing things I have bottled, My joy is short-lived. Once I open a jar of anything I have canned, I end up dumping all my hard work down the drain. My jam turns out looking like syrup with green fuzzy stuff growing on the inside of the jar, applesauce looks like rotten pie filling, my pie filling looks like a glob of toxic sludge (my husband’s definition- I’m not insulted, I thought he was being rather kind) certainly not fit for a pie, and my pickles are soggy and bitter.

Freezer jam. I can actually make freezer jam, but really that’s nothing to brag about since a first grader can make freezer jam.

Really, it’s just best if I don’t even bother to attempt to can food. So, I have learned my lesson. I have pretty much given up the idea of filling our pantry with home grown/canned items and instead, I try to hit the case lot sales for our food storage. No sense putting my families life at risk.

Putting aside my feelings of “canning inadequacy” I did decide to try one more thing that I had never attempted before. I went down to my dad’s to visit for a couple of days. He had two buckets of plums from his tree that he didn’t want to go to waste. He had been drying apple slices all week long so I came up with the brilliant idea that we could use his food dehydrator and make some fruit leather with the plums. How hard could it be?

I looked up a simple recipe on the computer and we proceeded to cut up the fruit. We decided to blend the fruit rather than “mash” it like the directions said. My dad was excited to use this high tech blender he had bought from my cousin who works for the manufacture of this supposedly wonderful device. The blender looked rather complicated to me, but my dad was so proud to try out his new gadget. So I shrugged it off and dumped the fruit in. I should have followed my instinct and gone for the blender made in the 50’s at the back of the cupboard-- “Good Ol’ Reliable,” she had never let us down yet.

I put the weird looking lid on the space age high tech machine and turned it on for all of two seconds. BOOM! The lid went flying off and purple mush flew all over the kitchen until my dad ran over to turn off the machine. I stood there in shock. Finally I looked at my dad. He had plum puree running down his face and in his hair. I couldn’t see his eyes through his glasses because they were completely coated with the globby mess. We had purple goop dripping off the ceiling and running down the walls. Clumps of plums and goo was slopping off my head and down my shirt. It was everywhere.

My dad took off his glasses and said, “What did you do?” I was speechless. I had no idea what I had done. After 45 mins. We got the kitchen cleaned up and we were ready to try it again. “I’ll do it this time,” he said., grabbing the lid from my hand. He put the lid on that crazy blender, tapped it a few times for good measure, and turned on the machine. BOOM! The lid sailed off and puree was everywhere AGAIN! I looked at my dad and said, “What did you do?” After a few choice words, “Ol’ Reliable” was looking better and better to him. We set about cleaning the kitchen for a second time. Then he called my cousin to find out what the lid’s problem was. It never occurred to us that it had anything to do with the operator of the machine. Third time, after being given specific instructions, it happened again. So once more we cleaned up the purple mess. By this time you’d think we would have given up, but oh no, we’re a stubborn lot. This lid would not get the best of us. It didn‘t take us quite as long to clean up the kitchen this time. We had gotten it down to a system. The kitchen was cleaned and we finally figured out how to work the blasted lid on the fourth try. There was enough puree to make a batch of leather. We did it! We were so excited!

Several hours later, we checked our leather. It was done. Once it was cool, we sat down to strip the leather away from the waxed paper and planned to roll into plastic wrap. There was such a sense of accomplishment to know we had finally achieved our goal after such an eventful morning!

We started to pull the leather away from the waxed paper, but what did we find? To our dismay, we learned that the leather had cooked into the wax paper and wouldn’t peel away from it so in the end, we had to throw it all away.

The good news is, my dad’s kitchen is really clean.

With the rest of the plums we made a small batch of freezer jam.

This is why I don’t can.

Book Review ~SHUDDER~ By Jennie Hansen

2009-10-13T19:36:00.000-07:00

I am constantly impressed with Jennie Hansen and with every novel that she writes. Her newest release, Shudder is no different.

Though somewhat different from all her other novels, Shudder still tugs at your heartstrings while the mystery and the suspense of the plot keeps you glued to the book to the very end.

Shudder is a story of a lifelong friendship between two girls, Darcy and Clare. The two have been best friends from preschool on through the years until college graduation. They have shared years of hardships, trials, struggled through the deaths of loved ones and even shared celebrations and triumphs.

Now the two friends find themselves in Boise, Idaho where Clare has not only found herself her dream job but the man of her dreams; or so she thinks. Darcy is busy pursuing a teaching certificate. She thinks very little of Clare’s overbearing, rude, boyfriend. For the first time in their lives, the girls find themselves on very different paths, with Blaine, Clare’s boyfriend becoming an object of contention. Eventually his domineering ways forces a separation between the lifelong girls. Blaine not only intrudes on the friendship, but their living space and Darcy finds herself without her friend or a home.

Though the girls reconcile, the distance between them is never greater. Blaine sees to it. Time spent together and calls between them are very limited. Eventually they are all but cut off from each other. The next time they see each other is at Clare’s wedding- which is nothing like what the girls had always envisioned it would be. Darcy is confused, hurt, and disappointed in Clare’s choices.

It doesn’t take long for Darcy to figure out that Clare is trapped in an abusive marriage to Blaine. But entirely cut off from any connection to Clare, Darcy’s hands are tied. Still, she makes any attempt possible to reassure her friend that if she ever needs her, she will always be there for her. Weeks go by with no word from her best friend.

In the meantime, Darcy has found a living arrangement with a woman by the name of Karlene who is in need of a live-in helper. The assistance she needs fits perfectly with Darcy’s teaching schedule and the two women become friends. Karlene confides that the accident that has rendered her a temporary invalid was no accident, she believes someone tried to kill her.

This is where the plot gets so many twists and turns that every time you think one situation is nearly resolved, the author surprises you with another. You have no idea if Clare will survive, and you wonder if Darcy will live to keep her promise to her best friend to be there for her if she were ever to need her.

Shudder is an excellent story as we all can expect from Jennie. It’s a novel that evokes many different emotions all in the same reading; anger, sadness, fear, and so many more. The mystery keeps you guessing to the point you have no idea who the guilty one is. The story of abuse is eerily, sadly, real.

I don’t usually read the acknowledgments before beginning to read a book but for some reason I did this time. It’s beautifully written message had an impact on me which set the tone for the book.

Though Jennie wrote a wonderful story the message is clear, abuse is not to be tolerated. It destroys lives and has a lasting effect. Her dedication and her last paragraph in the book brought a tear to my eye.

I highly recommend this book to be read not only because its another Jennie Hansen winner but because Jennie, in her classic way, brings us to remembrance (or maybe youth who might read this to an awareness) that women deserve to have trusting, lasting, relationships. There is a deeper message to the story and one that shouldn’t be forgotten or taken for granted.

Well done, Jennie!!

The Aaronic Priesthood Choir

2009-10-13T17:37:00.000-07:00

There he stood, dressed in a black suit, white shirt, and dark conservative tie. He had just walked into my bedroom, (I was laid up in bed from a recent surgery) and said, “Well, I guess I am ready to go now. Do I look okay?” My heart melted. Did he look okay? I got this huge lump in my throat that stopped me from answering and tears filled my eyes. “Are you going to cry?” he asked with a huge cheesy smile. There’s something about a mother’s tears that makes my son happy. I think he knows that every time he makes me cry, it’s usually in my most proudest moments. So he did the most manly thing he could think of. He walked over to the bedside and gave me a knuckle punch, then he hugged me, gave me a kiss good bye and promised to behave. He turned to walk out the door and said, “Oh yeah, I’ll also try to sing really loud--and try to not watch for the T.V. cameras. The director said if we watch for ourselves or start to laugh, it looks really bad. I‘m just gonna go and try not to forget the words and hope that if they show me, it‘s at a part where I’m singing good.“ That’s my boy.

This night my son was attending the General Priesthood session of Conference. It was only the second he has ever had the opportunity to attend, being that he just turned twelve last March. What made this night even more special was that for twice a week for the last month and a half he has been going to choir practices learning the verses of four hymns that he would get to sing at the Conference center for the Priesthood session.

Having a difficult time, but refusing to give up, Bryan was unclear which verses would be sung for each hymn. In the beginning, he didn‘t know any of the words to the songs, how to read several of them, or even what the words meant. The task to learn everything in time seemed overwhelming for him. So he and I sat together day after day working on memorization and comprehension. We sang together, talked about the songs, sentence by sentence, to gain a more clear understanding of what he was singing to clue him in to what he would sing next and why. Slowly I heard my son learn to sing the hymns with understanding and conviction as he comprehended what he was singing.

I too, gained a greater appreciation for songs I have sung for years but didn’t really take the time to listen to their meaning. What’s more, my son and I memorized all the hymns and all their verses so that he could keep up with the rest of the young men in the choir. It was inspiring for me to watch my son work so hard to accomplish so much in such a little time. It was hard work, but how I loved the time we spent together singing.

Bryan boarded a bus that took the Young Men to the Conference Center at 2:00 in the afternoon. The bus brought him back at 9:30 that night. It was quite a long day. While there, they practiced again and again. On the home front, I kept watching the clock wondering how he was doing.

Tradition has it that after the Priesthood session, the men in our family get treated to dinner. On this special night, Bryan got to choose the restaurant. I was anticipating their arrival home.

Finally I heard them come in the door and Bryan bounded up the stairs to my room. There he was with that big cheesy grin I love so much, “Well, I did it,“ he said. Bryan was so excited about his night. He went on and on about how much fun he had Then I noticed a reverence came over him. His eyes were shinning as he spoke of when the leaders of our Church entered the room. “You could feel Heavenly Father’s Spirit there,“ he told me. What an amazing experience he had had. My heart was filled to overflowing.

Brad found the broadcast on the internet. We all watched while my son sat beside me on the bed. The first sounds I heard took my breath away. Here was this incredible choir of young Priesthood men singing “High On The Mountain Top.” What an impressive sight! Within seconds, there was my own son, singing his heart out, keeping up with those around him. What a grand pay off!

We spent several minutes looking for others in our ward and stake, but when the last number came on, the tears poured down my eyes. (Insert here that Bryan rolled his eyes, said, “Dad, she‘s crying again and got another one of those happy smiles on his face) I just wish I weren’t so inadequate with words, but here were these amazing, handsome young men, the men who hold the Priesthood, singing “Rise Up, O Men Of God“. It was so powerful to me. And there amongst them was my son. Wow. I don‘t have the words to explain the love or the reverence that I felt in that moment as I watched and listened to those young men singing that hymn of praise.

Rise up, O men of God!
Have done with lesser things.
Give heart and soul and mind and strength
To serve the King of Kings.

Rise up, O men of God!
In one united throng.
Bring in the day of brotherhood
And end the night of wrong.

Rise up, O men of God!
Tread where His feet have trod.
As brothers of the Son of Man,
Rise up, O men of God!

I grew up in a family where music was an important part of our home. My mother was a member of the Mormon Tabernacle choir for over twenty years. Upon getting cancer one of the first things to go was her singing voice which nearly broke her heart, since she loved to sing to her grandkids so much. I remember clearly after she passed away, Bryan came to me and told me not to be sad. He knew where grandma was. “Where is she, Bryan?” I asked. I was curious to see what insight he would have for me. “She’s singing with the Heavenly angels” he said. I hope he’s right, because she would LOVE that. And for that night, I really sincerely hope that Heavenly Father let her catch a glimpse of her grandson sitting in those choir seats. She would have loved that too.

So that you too can enjoy hearing this really wonderful choir, here is a video of their final song. Who knows, maybe we'll see some of our future Church leader’s in this group. And if not, well, I think they're some really impressive young men!

Bridging the Gap

2009-09-09T19:31:00.000-07:00

I had a great opportunity this past weekend to observe something that put a big smile on my face.

As many of you know, my youngest son struggles with a lifelong seizure disorder. He’s had three brain surgeries, takes medications, yet his seizures continue to be difficult to control. This of course affects his education. Though he tries to do his best, learning from verbal instruction is something that doesn’t come easy for him. Yet, SHOW him how to do something and he catches on so much better. It’s the language that complicates matters. Many people without seizure disorders may find they are visual learners as well.

My father on the other hand, had a professional career in the education system. He started out as a teacher and within a few short years became a principal until he finally retired many years later. He is book smart and has an incredible knack for being able to reason and explain why things are the way they are. He can make sense of the 50 page instruction manuals that many get boggled down by. (Me? I can’t even pronounce half the words—very frustrating!) However, my father was in the education system back in the days before Game Boy’s, Wii’s, or even before computers were so common. And of course who ever heard of text messaging and tweeting?

I was excited to pack my family up for a weekend trip to visit my dad. While there, on several occasions, I caught my dad with his arm around my son, helping him to read a book, giving him clues how to sound out vowels, to read the words, and praising my son for his efforts.

It also did my heart good for me to watch my son teach his grandpa a thing or two about Wii games, Game Boys, and computers. The two of them sat and played games. I watched and listened as Bryan showed his Grandpa how this remote works and how to play that game. He even showed his Grandpa a thing or two on the computer. I kept hearing my dad say how “Smart that boy is,” and “Why am I so old that I have such a hard time learning these things?”

From my observations, the thought occurred to me that my dad has a wealth of knowledge from all his wonderful life experiences (as well as being book smart) that my son can learn from his Grandpa. At the same time, I loved the thought that my son has something that he too can share. That he was able to teach and help his Grandpa with a few things that he was struggling with. I have to admit the scenes before me brought a few tears to my eyes.

It’s a wonderful reminder to me, and one that I am thankful for, that we are all sent here with different talents, different struggles, coming from different walks of life, yet we can all learn and grow and gain so much from each other.

It's a boy!

2009-08-26T20:16:00.000-07:00

It’s a boy!

I’m so excited to announce I’m going to be a grandma. My grandson is supposed to make his entrance into the world sometime the second week of January.

My son Tyler and his wife Felicia are expecting their first baby and last week we found out the baby is a boy. He already has his name. I’ll save that surprise for the announcement of his birth. I just have to say I couldn’t be more thrilled. All I can think about is how blessed I feel.

It was in the freezing cold of last January that Sian Bessy made her way on a dark stormy night to find my son and his wife at their apartment. (They also lived in her same hometown) That day they had had a miscarriage and I was devastated as a mother that I couldn’t be there to help them, or be near them in case they needed me. I mentioned in an email that they had lost their baby and how terrible I felt. The loss of that baby was so difficult on us and as a mother I just wanted to be near them. Sian knew just what to do. Being such a loving, caring friend, she found their apartment and hugged them for me and told them I loved them. She took warm bread from the oven and homemade jam and spent time with them until she knew they’d be okay. She did all of this for me because I couldn’t be there. Then she called me to reassure me that in time everything would be okay. In turn she touched not only my heart, but my son and daughter in laws as well, in ways she’ll probably never know. That memory still brings tears to my eyes. I have the most kind hearted generous friends a girl could ever be blessed with.

Now, it looks like we’ll be meeting our first grandchild this coming January. What a wonderful blessing he already is to all of us who are so eager to meet the little guy.

Anyway, like I said, tonight I am feeling so incredibly grateful for this little baby. My water level is a little high and the happy tears aren’t drying up.

I’m gonna be a grandma!

Humility

2009-07-29T20:39:00.000-07:00

Recently I changed jobs. It was a difficult step for me. I did this only because I wanted evenings and weekends with my family, otherwise I would have never left the job I sincerely loved.

After 11 ½ years of working at the Jordan River Temple I have transferred to the Printing Division for the Church. I have to insert here that it’s a way cool place--I work for the food services there. I must say I am really impressed with the ladies I work with. They work incredibly hard. Each day after my shift ends, I practically crawl out to my car from exhaustion, with tears of joy that I have survived yet another shift. My goal is to one day learn to keep up with them while actually carrying my share of the workload.

At my first job I had a lot of seniority and a job I could do in my sleep. I knew the names of the employees, their families, their grandkids, and many of the hundreds of workers that came through the line. Now, I am at the bottom of the food chain, I have no clue what any of the workers last names are that I work with except one—mine—and there are only five of us total.

I have cut more pineapples than I could ever count in my day, but yesterday I started to cut one and sent it flying across the room to land at my boss’s feet. (This exaggeration is not way off) and I am acting like a clod—as though I have never done this kind of thing before. Yeah, I know—it’ll take time to get into a routine and to learn their system, but I think it’s been quite a lesson in humility.

The employees work every bit as hard at the Temple but I finally learned the job there. It’s my hope it won’t take me 11 ½ years to learn it here. Right now I am feeling out of sorts and maybe a little alone in my new adventure. I have said many prayers this week in hopes of being able to learn, adjust, understand…cope with changes that have been hard for me. J

I did find a saying on the Church’s website under the topic of humility. It doesn’t say who wrote it. But, I really liked it. If I haven’t put everyone to sleep thus far with this blog, I’m hoping this saying will be of value to someone like it was to me.

Yes, this week really has been a lesson in humility, but I am grateful for the experience. I realize even more the value of the friendships I have made, I look forward to new acquaintances and hopefully making new friends and having new adventures, and above all, I am so grateful for the opportunity that has come my way to be with my family.

And now for that saying…

To be humble is to recognize gratefully our dependence on the Lord—to understand that we have constant need for His support. Humility is an acknowledgment that our talents and abilities are gifts from God. It is not a sign of weakness, timidity, or fear; it is an indication that we know where our true strength lies. We can be both humble and fearless. We can be both humble and courageous.

Website Contest

2009-04-27T20:19:00.000-07:00

AND THE WINNER IS…

Danyelle Ferguson.

Several weeks ago I had my first website contest. By going to my guest book and reviewing your favorite LDS book, fiction or non-fiction alike, names of all entries were put together and today, one name was drawn at random. The winner will receive a signed copy of my newest release, Shadow of the Crown.

I want to be sure to thank all those who entered the contest and took the time to check out my website. It was fun for me to see the wide variety of books that were reviewed. Several of which I have heard of and read myself. Others I am interested in learning more and there are those I would even like to read.

Again, thank you for making my contest a success. I appreciate it! Congratulations, Danyelle. It is my hope that you will enjoy my book, Shadow of the Crown.

I Love To See The Temple

2009-01-27T09:34:00.000-08:00

This Friday, January 30, 2009, my husband and I are taking our youngest son to see the Draper Temple open house.

Brad and I have been to a couple of Temple open houses before but Bryan has never been to one and so I look forward with anticipation for him to be able to go inside and see just how beautiful the Temples really are. I pray with all my heart that he will feel of the sacredness of such a holy place and that he will remember this experience, and that it will be one which he cherishes.

Bryan loves the Primary songs, one of which is, “I love to see the Temple”
I can’t help but smile as I think of the many times he and Brad have either dropped me off or picked me up from work that I have listened to Bryan quietly singing that very song from the back seat of the car. I think of that today as I am reminded of an experience last year.

Bryan was in the hospital for a twelve-day period undergoing some tests. On the day he was to be released, a nurse asked him if he planned to go to college to become a doctor. She had a knowing grin on her face; obviously she thought she knew what his answer would be.
Instead, his answer came as a surprise, “No, I’m going to college so I can learn to be a Temple worker, like my mom.”
“A what?” The nurse asked in confusion.
“It’s where I work,” I smiled as I tried to explain. Bryan and I walked away but as we did, I couldn’t help the tears that immediately formed in my eyes. Perhaps they were there because he was proud of what I do, but even more so, I loved that he thought so highly of the Temple that that is what he wanted to do when he grew up. I hope that all my son’s dreams come true... that maybe one day he will enjoy the blessings of being a Temple worker, in whatever capacity that may be.

The Temple represents many things. It is a House of order, glory, prayer, fasting, thanksgiving, learning, faith, refuge, and so on. With each of these descriptions, a multitude of blessings can be ours.

Seeing how the Temple was a house of thanksgiving for one particular young man touched me as I worked in the cafeteria one day really touched me. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-three years of age or so when he walked up to me and handed me two hundred dollars and said, “This is to pay for their dinner,” He pointed to the long line of people that had formed to get their dinner when he started to turn and walk away. “Wait, I don’t know who you mean,” I said. (Often times a family member will walk up and hand me money to avoid confrontation of who will pay for the others dinner in their group) I had no idea where this young man’s family began or ended. He stepped closer and said, “I came into some money today and wanted to show my gratitude. I’m sorry, but it’s all the cash I had on me. I just wanted to pay for as many people’s dinner as that money could buy.” He turned and stepped to the back of the line. He was all-alone. He had come to the Temple to show his gratitude for the blessings he had received that day. With thankful heart, he bought 38 people dinner with that money. Elderly people, single people, couples, and workers benefited from this young man’s expression of gratitude. It made such an impression on me. The outpouring of love and appreciation was inspiring. Tear filled eyes were in awe that a young man would be so generous. When told that their cup of soup and roll had been paid for, an elderly couple said, “Who would do that for us?” They were so shocked and humbled, they just stood there speechless, unsure whether to accept the meal or not. A sister who came alone said, “No, there must be some mistake. No one would pay for me. I came by myself.” She started crying. A couple kept asking, “Really? Really? Just because? Please tell us who would do such a kind thing. We have to say thank you.” They were so impressed. The reactions of the people were incredible. That young man touched so many hearts with his gift of gratitude.

The Temple is indeed a House of Glory. All you have to do is step inside and know it is a place where our Heavenly Father’s Spirit can dwell. I think it’s crucial for us to remember that you cannot enter there with a worldly attitude and expect to have a Spiritual experience.

The Temple is a House of refuge. It doesn’t matter how frazzled my day is outside of the Temple, when I walk inside, a calmness comes over me and I know all will be well. I love the people I work with, the people I serve, and the environment in which I am so blessed to be a part of.

The Temple is also a house of protection. I am reminded of a quote by President Vaughn J Featherstone: “I promise you that all who faithfully attend to Temple work will be blessed beyond measure. Your families will draw closer to the Lord, unseen angels will watch over your loved ones, when Satanic forces tempt them. The veil will be thin and great Spiritual experiences will distill upon this people.”

My work at the Temple has been a tremendous blessing in my family’s life and mine. As I come in contact with the people who enter the Temple to do their Temple work, in whatever capacity it may be, whether they are patrons, workers, volunteers or employees, I find my life is more richly blessed. I am incredibly grateful for the eternal blessings the Temple provides us as we make a commitment to be obedient I am thankful I have a constant reminder in my life that in this world we have a greater purpose and that eternal happiness can be ours.
I am so grateful for the House of our Father where I can find peace, solace, inspiration, and learning. The Temple truly enriches my life.

I am so looking forward to Bryan attending his first Temple open house. It’s my hope that this is only the first of many, many, more to come.

The Errand Of Angels

2009-01-19T10:38:00.000-08:00

My Sister’s Hands

My sister’s hands are fair and white. My sister’s hands are dark.
My sister’s hands are touched with age, or by the years unmarked.
And often when I pray for strength to live as He commands,
The Father sends me sustenance, through my sister’s hands.
My sister’s hands are lined and worn with burdens of their own.
And yet, I know should I mourn, I need not weep alone.
For often as I seek His grace to lighten life’s demands
The Father sends me solace borne in my sister’s hands.
My sister’s hands, compassion’s tools, that teach my own their art,
Witnesses of charity within the human heart,
Bearers of the Savior’s love and mercy unto man
I have felt the “Master’s Touch” through my sister’s hands.
(Author unknown)

Being the youngest of four girls, I have always had sisters around me. I didn’t always appreciate that fact. All my friends had cute brothers that bullied and protected them. I ended up with sisters to contend with. Whether it was fighting over chores, borrowing clothes without asking, (That was a HUGE no-no) or phone privileges, we found more ways to get on each other’s nerves, and get each other in trouble, that you would wonder if there was even any love between us. Oh, but there was. We actually had some great times and looking back now, we all talk and laugh over the silly antics we were always up to. The things we put our parents through…
Years later, I sit here and think of each sister, with the fondest of memories. I don’t think there has been a time I have appreciated them or felt more blessed to have them in my life as I do now.
Maybe it comes with age and therefore, experience, but I finally see just how blessed I am to have my sister’s around me.
I must say we are all different from each other as night and day but I don’t have a single doubt in my mind that if I ever needed one of them, they would be there for me. Sometimes they are even there for me, without my asking.
They have helped me through some of the toughest times of my life. How can I ever express my love and gratitude to them for being there, all the many times I desperately needed them?
I want to include all my other sisters, my sisters inside and outside of the Gospel. I am overwhelmed by the generous hearts of my good sisters who lift me up when I am down, who extend themselves to help me face the unknown when I am afraid, those who have had the patience to help me learn a new skill- maybe not because I have the talent, but because I have the desire. There have been those who care enough about my feelings and my family’s well being that they will sacrifice their time and talents to comfort us when we are heartbroken or weary, when we are discouraged they make us happy.
I love the song, “As sisters in Zion” The second verse says:

“The errand of angels is given to women
And this is a gift that as sister’s we claim:
To do whatsoever is gentle and human,
To cheer and to bless in humanity’s name”

I can’t help but be thankful for all the angels in my life. I somehow manage to
Keep them constantly on their errands, but I have to say my life is rich because of them.
Though I try to let them know of my appreciation, I know I will never have the words to express my heartfelt love and gratitude so it is my hope and prayer that my Father in Heaven will bless them for their efforts.
It is also my himble prayer that as I have had so many wonderful examples to foloow that I will show my gratitude by being the kind of sister so many have been to me.

My Aunt's Passing

2008-11-11T09:06:00.000-08:00

While working at the Temple, I received a phone call from my sister, Joni. An email was sent from Denmark that morning with news that my aunt had passed away.
The message was most unexpected. My Aunt Edel had cancer; she had diabetes, yet it was her heart that had finally had enough. So why, with all the difficulties she was facing, would the news come at such a surprise to me? At such a great distance between us all my life, with very few chances for visits, why would the news upset me so?
As I pondered the death of my aunt, perhaps it was because I knew that I never had the chance to know her like I wish I could have. Maybe it was sadness for what never was. I also realize that it hits a little close to home knowing it is my mother’s sister and makes me wish my mother were here. I feel a definite sadness that my Danish family doesn’t have the knowledge and understanding or the peace that the Gospel offers at the time of death.
Of all my Danish relatives, the ones I have been the closest to and have been in contact with over the years have been my Aunt Helen and Uncle Bent. They have kept us updated on news of my grandparents, Mor Mor and Mor Far (he has now passed away) and the rest of the family. It’s them I have known the most and have kept in touch with. Yet the passing away of my other aunt has been quite painful to me.
While she was here, my mother made a point of keeping us close to our Danish family and helped to make an awareness of our heritage. We had our Danish traditions at Christmas time, she sang us Danish nursery rhymes, and kept us in touch with our Danish family. Some of our favorite meals were my mom’s Danish recipes. We all learned as we grew up, to love the Danish side of our family. So whether we were half a world away or half a mile down the street it is still painful to know that one of our family has passed away.
I have a favorite talk about death given by Elder Russell M. Nelson that has really helped me. He said, “Irrespective of age, we mourn for those loved and lost. Mourning is one of the deepest expressions of pure love. It is a natural response in complete accord with divine commandment: “Thou shalt live together in love, insomuch that thou shalt weep for the loss of them that die.” (D&C 42:45.) Moreover, we can’t fully appreciate joyful reunions later without tearful separations now. The only way to take sorrow out of death is to take love out of life.” I love that line…the only way to take sorrow out of death is to take love out of life. We mourn because of the love we have and to me it is better to mourn than to not have love in our life.
He continues to say; “Our limited perspective would be enlarged if we could witness the reunion on the other side of the veil, when doors of death open to those returning home. I can only imagine the wonderful reunion my mother had with her sister and her father… He then says, “Life does not begin with birth, nor does it end with death.” I am so very humble and grateful for this knowledge.
“Returning from earth to life in our heavenly home requires passage through—and not around—the doors of death. We were born to die, and we die to live. (See 2 Cor. 6:9.) As seedlings of God, we barely blossom on earth; we fully flower in heaven. We need not look upon death as an enemy. With full understanding… faith supplants fear. Hope displaces despair. The Lord said, “Fear not even unto death; for in this world your joy is not full, but in me your joy is full.” (D&C 101:36.) He bestowed this gift: “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” (John 14:27.)
I am so grateful for the wonderful teachings of our leaders and the scriptures. I am in deed grateful for my knowledge that this is not the end, only a separation for a time.
I am truly grateful for the comfort the Holy Ghost offers and for that gentle and sure knowledge that Families really can be together forever.
It’s my hope and prayer that we can cherish each and every moment that we have here and live them well so that we may return to our Father in Heaven, our brother Jesus Christ, and be reunited with all our loved ones, that we may all receive the blessings of eternal life and everlasting joy.

A Personal Journey

2008-09-12T07:15:00.000-07:00

“I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails.I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp. I want to be there with grass stains on my shoes from mowing Sister Schenk's lawn. I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbor's children. I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone's garden. I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder. I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived.” ~ Marjorie Pay Hinckley

Last Sunday we sat in church, waiting to partake of the sacrament. I looked over at my son, Bryan, and noticed large tears welling up in his eyes. I gently elbowed my husband to ask if he knew what was wrong. He glanced at him and with concern on his face then looked back at me and shrugged.

I leaned over and whispered, “Hey, Bry. What’s wrong?” He looked down at his hands and said quietly, “I just wish sometimes I was normal.”

My son has dealt with a seizure disorder for most of his life. He has had three brain surgeries. After each, the seizures stopped for a period of time, but then always returned.
If you know Bryan, you probably think of him as the happiest, most carefree child in the world. He has a good heart and loves to make people laugh. He handles his trials so well that last Sunday caught me off guard.

Pulling him between me and my husband, I put an arm around his shoulder. “Who decides what’s normal, Bryan?”

He shrugged. “I just want to be like other kids. I hate seizures. They scare me and I don’t want anyone to see me have one.”

I nodded my understanding then whispered, “Well, there are lots of days when you don’t have seizures. Aren’t those normal days when you’re a normal kid?”

He smiled weakly and said, “I guess so.” I knew he wasn’t convinced.

After a silent prayer I added, “I really believe, Bry, that some of the most incredible things about you have come from what you’ve had to learn to deal with. You hate to see people feel bad, whether they’re hurt or sick. You’re a friend to everybody—especially people who some people consider ‘different.’ You have such a caring heart that you’ll do anything to help others whenever they’re in need. You go out of your way to make others happy. Besides that, you’ve been able to see miracles come to pass in your life. I think that’s because Heavenly Father loves you. He knew this wouldn’t to be easy for you, but He also knew that you could fill a very important mission no matter how hard it gets. Maybe He has something even bigger in store for you. In the meantime, I promise we’ll keep doing everything we can to help you through this. Okay?”

He hugged and kissed me. When the bishopric opened the meeting for testimonies, Bryan was the first one on the stand to declare that he “knew the Lord was true.”

Indeed He is, Bryan.

I love the quote by Sister Hinckley. I began my first blog with it because it says so well how I want to live my life.

I was terrified to begin to blog because, like my sweet son, I don’t want my inadequacies to show—I only want to appear “normal.” I feared that writing here regularly might flaunt my flaws. Thank goodness I have Bryan and Sister Hinckley to remind me that things aren’t always about me—the best things are what we share with others.

With that in mind, I invite you to read of my learning experiences and life’s adventures. I may or may not appear normal, and you can expect plenty of flaws! Here will be my thoughts, my hopes, and my dreams—a personal record that I was here and how I lived.