62 AND COUNTING

Today,
14 October 2010, my parents will have been married
for 62 years.

They expect to remain together forever,
through life and after death - through all eternity.

I have one outstanding, wonderful memory of my parents from 1980. It is from the day their house burned to the ground. I remember my father putting his arms gently around my sobbing mother and beginning to sing softly in her ear:

"Hey, hey, good lookin'
Wa-what-cha got cookin' ..."

And then they laughed, so did all the firefighters, neighbors and family helplessly standing by.

I don't even know if that memory is real.  Was I there? or did I only hear someone describe it? I was somewhere: I just honestly don't know where at that exact moment - doesn't matter, really.  It is as alive and real in my memory as if I were there. I can still smell the smoke and see the glowing red of our burning house as piece by piece it fell into the basement pit that would glow for days.

1980 - sigh - too many memories there, but this one memory of my parents I sift from the others and cherish.

May 19, 1980 dawned beautifully sunny in Southern Alberta.  As we ate breakfast, sent the children out to play, and began a typical 'small-farm-Monday-in-the-spring' busy day we did not know of an event that had occurred in Washington State that would impact our own lives. At 8:32 a.m. PDT on Sunday, 18 May 2010 Mount St. Helens catastrophically erupted.

Television signals did not really reach under the hill to the small rural property, in the quiet valley we called home, and news on the radio usually consisted of hearing the latest prices for wheat, rye or alfalfa hay, and cattle or hogs. That day, and the next, were not different - the radio had no unusual news.

New home on same site

About 10 a.m. MDT that Monday morning a strange murky white haze appeared in the SW over the mountains. As I stood looking out the west kitchen window, watching some of my children and several of their cousins playing outside, the haze quickly became a cloud and suddenly the day became oddly overcast - not dark, not cloudy. It did not feel or smell like rain.

Soon an extremely fine, powdery, grayish white dust began to be visible on dark woodwork. We puzzled and thought and discussed what it might be. We gathered into the house and closed off doors and windows but in that old farmhouse it made little difference.  The dust continued to filter in.

Was there a disaster?
A bomb?
Was the world as we knew it ending? changing?
WHAT? Especially the dust!
Was it dangerous?

My mother continued to work outside planting and then watering some poplars near my brother's across the valley. She said it wasn't making her cough or affecting her in any noticeable way so until she was told otherwise she had work to do.  She did agree the children should be sheltered and suggested calling the local radio or TV station.

Noon became as dark as most evenings at dusk.

Local media knew nothing. Signals originated from approximately one hour north in a larger city and the day there was still clear and sunny. Even later in the afternoon they still had no news except what people in our area were calling to tell them.  Although we stayed indoors for the remainder of that day no answers could be found. There was no Internet, no Google, no Ask.

Eventually we learned about the volcano.
Was the dust safe to touch? inhale? No one knew.
The skies cleared, the sun returned.
We dusted and life went on as always.

Until June.

Several rural families in the immediate area (at least 4) lost their homes to fire without apparent cause that spring.  One insurance agent speculated that volcanic dust had settled into everything and may have shorted out ancient electrical wiring.  My parents home of 30+ years was one.

THAT was a strange day.  The baby was already down for a nap when my mother called up the stairs and asked me to accompany her to town.  I was reading my 4 year old our usual pre-nap story. I told mom, "no, too much trouble etc. etc." She went to the truck, and then returned to the house and called to me again.  She just 'felt' like she needed me to come. I finally loaded up the baby, and a very 'happy-to-skip-a-nap' preschooler, to go to town - a 15 minute drive.

Later on, while we did business and errands, a man walking down the street said to my mother in passing, "Jean, was that your house that burned in Kimball today?"

In my heart I knew it was.  I think she did too. We went immediately home. We could see the column of smoke away and over the foothills as soon as we left town. My mother drove. My father was many hours away at work. He often worked out of town and returned on weekends or even only once a month.

There was little water from their shallow wells. Everyone did all possible - it was as nothing in quelling the roaring orange and yellow swirling flames.

Late afternoon had not quite given way to early evening when my father arrived.  Most of my 10 siblings had come quickly. The one that lived across the valley was there from the onset. His wife helped care for the children. I remember I stayed there with her mostly, but otherwise we stood around at a distance not really knowing what to do or say.  The neighbors stayed too, and came and went - so many people! So much coming and going - and already they were bringing whatever they thought we might need.  (Meals were provided around the clock for several days, at first to all the family  and firemen, and then to all helping hands.)

We knew dad was on his way.  Kind friends had tracked him down and called.  His boss owned a small plane and flew to the nearest airport.  I suppose we just waited.

My father and mother often sang; as they worked, as they drove to and from here or there, and especially as they relaxed.  An evening bonfire gathering was always an occasion for song, we knew many, our family often sang. My father used quotes and songs on all occasions. He loved to tease and sang many teasing love songs to mother.

His heavy cowboy boots drug into the gravel before the truck halted completely.  He went directly to mother and wrapped his arms around her from behind before she even knew he was there.  He was just shy of 6 feet, she was barely 5'2" - the top of her head did not even clear his shoulder.

As he began to softly sing, at first we could hardly hear. Then, as she turned to him, we heard his voice as she laughed - "Hey, hey good lookin', wha-whatcha gotta-cookin" - we all laughed. We still laugh.  That song has become an 'inside' joke ... a 'time-of-trouble' comfort to fall back on - it is an easy and answerable question - "Hey good lookin' - whatya got cookin'?

I have been born of choice 'goodly' parents.

Their powerful examples of faith and fortitude have continued.  With good cheer and determination they have overcome many, many difficulties. October 14, 2010 they will have been married 62 years. In trouble they seemed to turn to each other and to Heavenly Father instead of away.

What a bonfire that was.

 Hey Good Lookin’  Hank Williams 1951

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XSozIEo-Fuk
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bjCoKslQOEs

Say hey, good lookin’. Wha-wacha got cookin? 

Hows about cooking somethin’ up with me?
Hey hey, sweet baby, do-o-on’t you think maybe, 

We can find us a brand new recipe?

I got a hot rod Ford, and a two dollar bill; 

And I know a spot right over the hill.
There’s soda pop and the dancing’s free, 

So if you wanna have fun, come along with me.

Hey hey, good lookin’, wha-wacha ya got cookin? 

Hows about cooking somethin’ up with me?

I’m free and I’m ready, so we can go steady,

   Hows about saving all your time for me?
No more lookin’, I know I been cookin”,

 Hows about keepin’ steady company?

I’m gonna throw my date book over the fence, 

And buy me one for five or ten cents
I’ll keep it till it’s covered with age, 

cause I’m writin’ your name down on every page.

So hey, good lookin’, wha-aat ya got cookin’? 

Hows about cooking somethin’ up with me?

THANKSGIVING

In Canada,
where I was born and much of my family continue to live,
today is Thanksgiving.

Yes - REALLY! Canadians have their own Thanksgiving. 

Harvest should be done there.

If not it may have snowed on your crop already.

So what am I thankful for . . .

I can list generalities - the usual categories  

Family, friends, health, shelter, food, transportation, technology, talents, opportunities, knowledge about God, the earth and universe, books or music and other media -

I can cover everything in a few words. 

Sometimes my prayers are like that.

Thanks for all the wonderful blessings I have.

Please bless my loved ones and the poor, the sick, the needy and help those with cause to mourn.

Please protect us all today and help us be happy -

you get the idea ...

Many years ago, while on an overnight visit, I knelt with my Uncle Ken and Aunt June in their home for evening prayer. I was grateful to feel loved and  included in their day's routine.  They prayed very specifically and personally for each one of their many loved ones, children and their spouses, grandchildren and me. Yes that took time.  They took time. They made time every day, every morning and every evening to specifically talk to Heavenly Father individually and personally about each and everyone, and everything on their mind.

WOW! 

Not only that, Aunt June (in her 80's and frail health) with difficulty, did kneel. I kidded her a tiny bit about making such an effort at her age. She said that although she understood that some people are unable to kneel, that she considered it a privilege to bow in gratitude before her maker, a privilege to thank Him for His mercy and blessings and talk with him.

I knelt with them there. I have seldom felt nearer to heaven.

A serious injury immobilized me, at one time, for almost a year .  Physical Therapy and persistent effort and exercise helped me regain the ability to walk - and kneel - sort of.  I became careless about kneeling for prayer (or anything else).  I knew God would understand.  He hears my prayers in all the postures and places they are offered. I know that - really! He does - so what did it matter.  I learned that what mattered more than posture was attitude. Kneeling is one demonstration of mine.

That day I vowed to follow Aunt June's example - and Uncle Ken's.  Despite additional injuries, immobilizations, and illnesses since then, each time I work persistently to kneel again.  I don't always tell my doctors or Physical Therapists why but mobility is a desirable commodity they seem willing to help me achieve.

Today I can walk.

 It is a wonderful thing to be able to rise from sleep in the night and  get to the bathroom, or to the kitchen for a drink, without waking anyone else or needing their assistance.  It is wonderful to feel the muscles of my body as they help lift and move me or objects I want.  

When I start to name the abilities and things and people I am thankful for, one by one, distinctly and uniquely, I find greater gratitude for much that I take for granted. I feel more love for my family and my friends and even my neighbors - I see them each more as a person - another human being. Aldous Huxley as quoted by President Thomas S. Monson in October General Conference said, "Most human beings have an almost infinite capacity for taking things for granted." President Monson was teaching about gratitude.

On that day, with Uncle Ken and Aunt June, I began to pray for my children and grandchildren and other loved ones by name, every day. Amidst all the busy comings and goings in their lives and mine, my mind dwells more on their needs and my heart yearns for them to feel happy and have their physical, emotional and spiritual desires met. I learned to pray for myself with faith too.

So today, what can I enumerate with gratitude?

Instead of just being grateful that I can see/hear/talk what can I see/ hear/say?

I was looking at a preying mantis the other day - I think it was looking back! What a marvel! I heard a bird warbling outside the screen and whispered to my granddaughter to listen - then we laughed and tried to imitate that incredible sound.  Over and over it sang and we tried.  It was delightful.  My husband walking past might have asked what we were doing. I would have needed to speak loudly and repeat my answer if he was not wearing his hearing aide - and maybe even if he was.  Hearing is so incredible.

Today most of my family (and many of my friends) will feast on turkey, pie, and family love.  I miss you all.

So to everyone in Canada (and elsewhere celebrating today)
-  to Mom and Dad, Rex and Bet, Gene and Deb, Randy and Kathy, Tim and Karyn, Shane and Sharon, Rick and Necia, Scott and Teri, Becky and Kevin, Bonnie and Darcy, Wilfred and Charlotte, Jason and Ginger, Tad and Kurri, Marty and Kimber, Ryan and Nena, Benjamin and Casey, Clarence, Erin, Raanin, Avalin, Calvin, Campbell, Cody, Benson, Meg, Joseph, Jaeger, Jaidon, Quinton, Winslow, Zaymes, Mikkel, Beckham, Hendrix, Cynthia and my dozens and dozens of nieces and nephews, cousins, aunts and uncles, with all your spouses and more dozens of children, Happy Thanksgiving.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

I will spend the rest of the day thinking of each one of you individually by name, looking at pictures, remembering things we have done together and the many, many things that have made all of it possible.

Things like: Rook, Rummicub, mountains, trees, piñatas,a '54 Chevy or the 'purple people eater' truck - that used to be blue, tents and tarps, cameras, marshmallows, rocks, water balloons, Bocce, t-shirts, Kimball, Orion, Mt.View, western movies, windows, doors, floors, beds, pancakes, cackle berries, moo juice, poetry, hamburgers, cake, birthdays, hammers, shingles, paint, doctors, weddings, Bishops, church, the temple, schools and buses, pencils, books, stories, pictures, Necia Bennett, Cheez Whiz and raspberry jam, pepper sandwiches, baloney and mustard,  macaroni and tomatoes, fried potatoes (and therefore lard!) and ketchup, fresh bread, chokecherry jelly, rhubarb, bleeding hearts, hollyhocks, peonies, ants,  shooting stars, buttercups, buffolo beans, baked beans in the can, beans - in the garden, pebbles, jam cans, Roger's Golden Syrup, Brownie, Beethoven, Shep, Chic, Gravy, salt blocks, post holes, wire-cutters, Ross Lake, Rothe's, HorseShoe Bend, St. Mary's, Waterton, hiking, weeding, ragweed, cinders, coal, apples, Creston, Westcastle, the sun and sky and stars and northern lights, fishing, Grandpa, Grandma, Uncle, Aunt, cousin, ...

What are you grateful for?

ONE

Something needs doing,
Something needs done,
Who's going to do it?
I'm not the one!
I don't have time
I just simply can't,
I have too much to do;
My knowledge is scant.

Somebody ought to -
Someone really should,
If somebody doesn't
I sure wish they would.

Others might suffer
But I can't be the one
Who steps out boldly
For others to shun,
I can't be involved
How would it seem?
My family and friends
May think I'm extreme!

No not I . . .
But somebody should
And 'something needs doing'
Does no one much good.

Excuses and wishes
In thought and in deed
Often leave others
With no one to lead.
Somebody, somewhere
Might need to be me
A choice can be made -
What will yours be?

Occasionally my thoughts run about in my head in the fashion just written here. It puzzles me - are those my own words? or did I learn them somewhere?

I have memorized a few bits of poetry and other things.
But I think those words are my own. (At one time my memory was of great use to me. Just laugh - that was supposed to be funny!)

There are times when we fail to do things we know should be done.
We blame it on our memory or make some other reasonable excuse.

Just today I dialed a long distance call on my phone,
or at least I tried to.

I got a recording, "We're sorry, you must first dial a 1 when calling this number. Will you please hang up and try your call again." What? I swear I did dial a 1 -  why wouldn't I? I know the routine. I have done it a kazillion times at least.

I checked redial - there was not a 1.
CRAZZZZZY!!!

This was a fairly inconsequential thing - I dialed again, with the 1.

There are little things that seem unimportant.
I may negligently overlook them
or even deliberately refuse to take time for them.

Things like smiling at my spouse
or children
or even a stranger,
or letting the kid with only one item
(or the parent with a cranky child) go ahead of me in line
or opening a door for someone,
or speaking a kind word,
or saying nothing at all.

You could add to the list - didn't you wonder about  _______?

Sometimes * siiggghhh*
sometimes my choice is right and sometimes it isn't
and sometimes it doesn't even seem like a choice.
Sometimes it is like that pesky 1.
Sometimes someone else has to give me a reminder
about what is needful and important.

I hope you will remind me as politely as the recording.
Read it again or try it yourself
- go ahead
- you will get the same recording.

And IF I need to remind you, please don't be as cranky towards me as I felt towards that impersonal phone recording.

Yelling and crying or even silently pouting doesn't accomplish what you want or need.  I just needed to dial the 1.  I understand if you are incredulous about a reminder at times. I really did check redial.  I was sure the phone was broken and still wonder if the buttons were sticky or something. Excuses didn't connect my call though. I had to choose to dial the 1.

And the call was important.  If I don't get the required information it will affect many people that are counting on me. They might be very disappointed.

Sometimes I count on you.  Sometimes I am disappointed.  I hope we can talk about disappointments without grudges and recriminations, with kind and cheerful forgiving words.

Choices.

They CAN be such  little things.

I LIKED ....

["God loves you - don't turn and look at your neighbor -
I'm talking to you, this is about you"]!

 Elder Jeffery R. Holland was the first conference speaker after President Monson and witnessed powerfully to each of us of the love our Heavenly Father has for each one of us - and then thanked each 'helper' - everyone that in anyway makes the gospel a manifestation of that love and the life and example of Jesus Christ.

I think that is one of the most important things I need to know - God loves me.

Henry B. Eyring instructed us about TRUSTING GOD  and quoted one of my favorite scriptures, 'be still and know that I am God' from Pslams - then he mentioned hearing President Ezra Taft Benson asking us to stay debt free and pay off mortgages if possible- wow - sure President Eyring, with God's help I will be able to do that ... I will work to get that done as soon as possible - WOW!! If not today - for sure tomorrow ...

And of course Elder Richard G. Scott as he explained what character is, and how to get it or lose it. "... we become what we want to be by being what we want to become ..."

I feel a little stuffed - like I've been at Thanksgiving dinner or something. Hopefully no one has eaten red blackberries that are green - giggle!

Oh yeah, and 'thanks giving' was addressed by President Monson too - I think I may have enjoyed so much 'light' for so long I may fail to remember to give and have sufficient thanks AND praise for relief from the dark because I take the light for granted.

I think I will go for a walk - just because I can.

And what does this all have to do with flying airplanes anyway?

lol

I will long remember poor President Uchtdorf's struggle to speak as his voice gave way while telling us to 'slow down' - he stopped - took a drink of water, tried to power on through his talk, could not, slowed down and thereby became an object lesson of the very thing he was telling us to do.

GENERAL CONFERENCE

NOW - TODAY -

YOU are invited. 

Make time - You'll love it.

10am MDT [9am PDT] 

and 

2pm MDT [1pm PDT] 

Saturday AND Sunday

Where? lds.org 

Pick YOUR language - YES even American Sign Language

Kick back and FEAST

Listen/watch part of the time, or all of it. 

Log in . . .
any time of any day from anywhere - SWEET!!

TOMORROW

Tomorrow is the day!


This weekend is the time! 


YOU are invited. 
Make time - You'll love it.


10am MDT [9am PDT] 
and 
2pm MDT [1pm PDT] 


Saturday AND Sunday


Where? lds.org 
 or your nearest LDS building 
[check to see if they are broadcasting of course]


Pick YOUR language


Kick back and FEAST


Listen or watch part of the time, or all of it. 


The nice part is you can log in and listen/watch, any time of any day from anywhere - SWEET!!

LOVE HATE

I hate pears -

Well - no - that is so untrue -

They are delicious and I love them -

sort of ...

I never can be definitive on things like this.
Things like what is my favorite __________?

GOOD GRIEF! Do people really have favorites?

Doesn't that get a little boring? I love blue but please don't inflict it on me everywhere! And which blue? Except when I love red, pink - no yellow - wait - what about green,  but my bedroom is periwinkle - and orange is an age in and of itself ...

Pears are like that.

Each pear is its own category.  I prefer Bartletts, ripened just so, not grainy (uggh the skins!) but so good to eat in hand - except that stringy part near the core - and dried they are heavenly.

Canning them is the same.

 They must be peeled smoothly

(  This year my son's wife, Casey, was here to help out -she's fast! )

- and cored,

firm and white.

We like a light syrup - only 1 cup of sugar to about 4 of water - and yes always a hot syrup to start them off with.


It's such a process.

Just call me picky.

My husband knows

- he helps every time.

(he's fast and strong)

And since Casey was here, and she hasn't participated in canning before,

we demonstrate a jar of grapes and a jar of tomatoes.

But that's not the pears fault!

And you do have to admit they always look so satisfying all washed clean and lined up on the shelves.

I think I'm in love ...

FOR WOMEN

TODAY!!


6 PM MDT 


A Prophet will speak today - specifically to women. 


I will hear and see the speakers using live video and audio on lds.org 


Any woman anywhere in the world may listen today - AND may see, hear or watch the counsel especially for women living in 2010. Anybody. Anywhere.  Via internet anytime - at our convenience.


I am excited! 
Can you tell? What will be said? 
What counsel and direction will I get? or you?


I don't think it will be a rerun of Noah telling me to get on an ark.


I also don't think angels will take me out of my city like Lot's wife.


I don't think so.


BUT is the counsel from a prophet in 2010 any less important?


Will it be as difficult as the prophecies Mary heard?
Or as joyous?


I don't know. 


Will I listen? Will I hear? 


Will you?


It's a little choice - or is it?

3 OR 1300

originally posted Monday but unable to be edited

I read a book this weekend.

I don't know if I like it or not.

Did I tell you it's title or author - don't hold your breath! It is the story of a young Chinese bondmaid that loves the rich Jewish boy she is purchased to serve - I think ...

To me it is really a story about choices.

The central message I got from the book was that little things matter.

I made the choice to read the book. I also make the choice to not recommend it lightly. I was faced with a constant nagging unease - the beliefs of the characters were in conflict and so were mine: personally much of the book seemed like blasphemy - or was it? perhaps it was only a skilled author inflicting my conscience with choices like the characters faced.

We each face seemingly innocuous choices every day, simple harmless decisions: should I wear a red t-shirt or a yellow one? brown shoes or black boots? drive the truck or the car? play with the kids or shop for their shoes? call now or later? come or go? keep silent or speak?

Some choices we know are hinge pins to the gates of direction in living. Gordon B. Hinckley speaking about this very thing taught, "Most of these decisions seem small at the time we make them, but their eventual outcome can be almost overwhelming.

 In the book the maid must choose her master's clothing.  She knows a certain blue may remind him of his rabbi and synoguoge and his people; she deliberately lays out the red clothing for him to wear as he disobeys (not seriously yet) some of the laws his mother has taught him.

While Gordon B. Hinckley was working in the head office of a railroad company a passenger train arrived at its destination without the baggage car. A thoughtless switchman had moved a piece of steel just three or four inches. That piece of steel was a switch point, and ... the car that should have been in Newark, New Jersey, was in New Orleans, Louisiana - thirteen hundred miles away. It had gone south instead of east. September 1985

Hinge pin choices faced every character in the book I read.  The mother prided herself on living a strict Jewish life but adds elaborate Chinese embellishments to her clothing that also is made of Chinese textiles. So what? Is she a 'good' Jew? Can she be a good Jew and do that? - or not? Eventually it does not seem matter because the Jews intermarry with the people they live among, and disappear as a separate people, culture and community - or did it? Perhaps it mattered very much to very many.

Her kind husband, a mostly happy and easy going, wealthy merchant poses a poignant statement to a questioning listener, "Perhaps I am unhappy sometimes because I know I am not a good Jew, ..."

I found the statement riveting.

Perhaps I am unhappy sometimes because I am not a 'good' _______ - what?

We may substitute any descriptor of religion, status, race, nationality, community or family for his word 'Jew'. Fill in the blank for yourself; wife, husband, son, daughter, mother, father, brother, sister, nephew, neice, aunt,uncle, grandmother, grandfather, Canadian, American, Australian, Catholic, Mormon, mayor, teacher, clerk, carpenter, student, friend - what would your adjective be? Each one of us might put a different word in that place to berate ourselves about decisions or choices that hindsight reveals might have had better options.

I am deep in thought today.  I could not sleep last night. I finished the book and read it again. I did not like it any better.  Like the Jews of the book I believe in one true living God, my Father in Heaven.  I also believe Jesus Christ, Jehovah, is God's son. I believe He lives. I believe Jews ARE God's chosen people. Like the Jews, I believe God speaks to Prophets and that they guide us.

I still do not recommend the book I read even though it was extremely thought provoking.

I do recommend the words of living apostles and prophets on earth now, today. On the 2nd and 3rd of October 2010 they will counsel anyone that wishes to hear: anyone, anywhere in the world.

Thomas S. Monson said in 2001 and again in 2008, "Whether speaking of your generation of mine, there are some constancies amid the changes of the times. The past is behind - we must learn from it. The future is ahead - we must prepare for it. The  present is now - we must live in it.
Years ago, I discovered a thought which is true. It is this: The gate of history swings on small hinges, and so do people's lives. I [chose] to discuss three gates which you alone can open. You must pass through each gate if you are to be successful in your journey through mortality ..."

He then asks us to open 'The Gate of Preparation' with genuine effort and avoidance of fear, 'The Gate of Performance' with responsibility and accountability that is not for the intention but for the deed, and lastly 'The Gate of Service' by looking to the example of Jesus Christ and considering what He would have each of us do.

These are all choices; my personal choices and yours.  Listen or not, act or not, be kind or not - and then accept the consequences - the blessings or lack of them.

"Fundamental to our theology is belief in individual freedom of inquiry, thought, and expression," taught President Gordon B. Hinckley, and we should use that freedom "... to move forward the work of the Lord, to strengthen His kingdom on the earth, to teach and build testimony..."

Without blame to myself and/or others can I make better choices today than yesterday, tomorrow than today?

I witness a great and exciting truth: God speaks to prophets now, today! I can be guided by prophets just as the biblical Children of Israel could follow Moses from Egypt, or not; and the people prior to the flood could listen to Noah and board the ark, or mock and not. I can tune my internet to lds.org and listen carefully - or not.

I can choose ...

It is a little thing - or is it?

MOTHER'S "DAY"

Once There Was a Baby

How did your mother spend her day?

Did she have a job or do volunteer work outside the home?

Journal answer 4 March 2001

I really don’t know how mom spent her day but I can surmise from things I do know. 

On the right is a picture of her mother holding her as a young child.

Our family always had everything we really needed. I attribute that to her frugality and diligent hard work and innovative efforts.

Mom with unknown child 

I remember arriving home after school on very few occasions that she was not there. She might go to Lethbridge, one hour away by car, [usually caught a ride with a neighbor, Betty Stewart, Orva Smith, Necia Bennett, or maybe Delaine Lowry] to do shopping or just for the trip out of town.

Finding her not at home was as rare as finding there wasn’t any bread in the large bread drawer (that accommodated 10 loaves with room to spare). The bread in the drawer was always a Piranha feeding frenzy after school. We often saw bread in process as we came in from school and if it were just out of the oven –  too soft and hot to cut – we would just tear a loaf into pieces to eat with dripping butter (actually margarine) and/or honey or jam. Mother baked 10 loaves of bread 3 or 4 times a week. (One of the few treats we had on a regular basis were the cinnamon rolls she made from any dough left over from making the loaves of bread.)

Most often she was about some task: laundry, sewing, gardening, or other home-animal-and-farm care. She spent a lot of time taking care of the outdoors and indoors while dad was gone: wood and coal for the furnace, feeding animals, milking cows and separating off the cream, hauling water to drink and bathe before we had running water, and any other yard or garden chores that needed attention. Our garden was about ½ acre – I realize now that our diet consisted mostly of the vegetables raised in that plot and meat from the farm and hunting.

All else aside there were 10 of us kids and she spent much time keeping us all spotlessly clean and bathed, neatly dressed, and fed - I never remember ever being hungry; there were few treats but never were we hungry. In the mid 60’s mom and dad invited a student from the Indian Placement Program to live in our home for more than 10+ years. I heard her tell dad, “What difference does one more make?” 

One more meant one more around the 8'x 4' table adding up to 13, one more sandwich each morning on the lunch assembly line, AND one more helper: mom kept us as busy, and happily involved in all aspects of working and playing, as children can be.

I was so oblivious that I probably wouldn’t know she worked so hard if we hadn’t missed all she did when she was not home. Sometimes she would be visiting teaching or taking care of someone that needed help. Some days we knew to get off the bus where she was at – other days she would just wave the bus to a stop as it passed a house along the bus route where she happened to be and give some instructions to us and/or take the younger children with her.

In addition to all other things she served in many church organizations and callings. 

One of the adventures that was looked forward to each year was berry picking.  Everybody big and little, old and young went berry picking. We were always allowed to eat as many berries as we wished as long as we had a bucket and picked into it to contribute to the gallons of berries to be preserved for the winter months – except that they seemed to disappear VERY early in the winter - we loved to eat berries.  

Mother also took care of aging relatives. Some of my funnier memories are of grandparents living with us as their bodies and minds became feeble.  She was always so kind; to them and to us. We seldom went to a doctor - Mother took care of us – especially when one or more of us were ill.  It was amazing how she could discern the difference between fake and real illness.

My mother will celebrate her 80^th birthday Thursday.  

I honor the noble, hard working, gentle, upright example you provided to me every day of my life, mom. I pay tribute to your 80 years - 80 years of struggles and striving, 80 years of infinite faith, 80 years of living and loving.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY Mom.

August 2010 birthday trip

NOT SO SLOW SUNDAY

The first Sunday of most months is 'Fast Sunday' - the day, once a month, when LDS people go without food for 24 hours, may publicly express their feelings in church about anything that seems to be on their mind, and donate the approximate cost of the missed meals to help the needy.  (The public expression has guidelines but mostly I have to be creative to squeeze what is said into the prescribed parameters. It can be good mental exercise to figure out how or why what is said could be one of the things suggested; the first and foremost being that Jesus Christ is the Savior and Redeemer of this world.

Yesterday was 'Fast Sunday'! Although the combination of fasting and long meetings tends to make for a seemingly endless day that was not the case yesterday - I was lost in thought and it seemed suddenly gone.

I hate church - not really, you know, it is just very difficult for me to sit still for so long – and you have to sit still with ALL those other people that are sitting still too. ZZZZZZZzzzzzzz

(I especially hate Stake Conference. I have learned to take note paper to help direct, contain and channel my thoughts.)

Yesterday Elder Smalls [of course he is almost the biggest man in the room] shared his testimony. He said [and I paraphrase], “I love going into your homes. There is such a feeling of the spirit in your homes.”

Have you ever grabbed a load of laundry from the couch or stack of bills from an end table and chucked them into your bedroom or a closet when the doorbell rings? I had that furtive kind of feeling as he said that.  I often wonder how the spirit can be in my home when we are so imperfect. Wow, I thought, I wonder what I need to do so when he comes over to our house he will feel that way?  I wanted what he said to be true.

Elder Smalls continued, “And I am so grateful to all those that team teach with the missionaries. You share such great testimonies and are worthy men of God.”  As my husband sat a little taller, I looked around the chapel noticing that  Elder Smalls had the attention of most of the members and suddenly I remembered my favorite church meeting  - ever.

President Dennis Bullock stood in front of the conference of the Lethbridge Stake in the mid 1980’s and thanked the people; he thanked them for attending church, for paying tithing, for going Home/Visiting Teaching, for accepting callings, for having family home evenings, for doing genealogy, for faithful temple attendance, for … about a million more things like daily scripture study or personal and family prayer that Latter Day Saint people routinely do.  He kept saying, “If you do this you are [faithful, obedient etc ]” and outlined many of the blessings of doing each thing he talked about. 

I loved church that day.  Ironically many that usually like church did not.

I learned an important principle.

Gratitude validates what I am doing and encourages me to do more of what I should be doing – sometimes. Even when I am not doing it at all I may envision that I fit the category and what it would be like to belong to the category. My heart is turned to obedience.  I desire to choose to do better. (Just because sometimes I harden my heart and refuse to accept those impulses doesn’t mean I didn’t have them).

Gratitude brings us nearer to God. 

A Primary song crept through my conscious mind -

All over the world at the end of day

Heavenly Father’s children kneel down to pray

Each saying thank you in his own special way

Saying thank you, thank you in his own special way

 Children’s Songbook

What am I grateful for?

What am I so thankful for that I fall to my knees to thank God that I am so blessed?

Do I ever tell you thank you? Can I do so too often?

Gratitude is essential to my happiness and yours. I pledge to look for all the things I can thank you for AND I pledge to thank you more often.  I especially pledge to thank God for all I have and am and can be. My mind reels at all I have to be grateful for.

With the psalmist I shout, I clap my hands together and sing, ‘Great is the Lord, Praise ye him!’

Missing Daddy

Cynthia, age 2 1/2, really really missed her daddy while he was gone far away for a couple of months.  She talked with him on the phone - face to face of course - every day at bed time. Even so she did not really understand what was happening or why.

(And one of our more amusing activities is now seeing her peer into non video phone displays trying to see the person talking with us or her - if daddy can be seen why not everyone?)

Today when Papa-pa prepared to leave for work she ran to the door ahead of him, said, "NO", very emphatically and then, "lock".  She then stretched up and locked the deadbolt to try to keep him in the house. (FYI - He made it to work on time).

Do you think that would work for me on the days I wish he could stay home?

Daddy had to go run some errands and Cynthia had to stay at home.  The ensuing tantrum was not pretty!

Funny - yes!  Really nasty - yes - mostly because she could stop the screaming shrieks instantaneously when she randomly felt like it.  At first I was almost feeling sorry for the poor child as she banged at the window and fell down in the throes of sorrow onto the bed.  Then, like pushing pause on the CD player, she stopped and when the item of interest passed, again started - at the same volume and intensity as if no interruption had occurred.

Thanks for the perspective Cyndi!  and yes I admit to laughing out loud when you did that.

I wonder what my Father in Heaven thinks when I throw myself down on the bed, and allow myself to wallow in self pity!

I am sure he wishes to comfort me at least as much as I wanted to comfort her.  She refused to let anyone, even her mother, touch her.  Even though Daddy and Mommy both said over and over that he was coming back she just didn't understand.

There is so much I don't understand! Can I just trust that it will be alright eventually? Not that I don't ... I just - what? just want my own way?

Perhaps she thought if she screamed loudly enough for long enough he would hear and return or we might take her to him - she usually gets what she reasonably can have just by asking for it - and most of the time she does not throw tantrums.

As I think about this I know that I usually get most of what I want too - at times even BEFORE I ask for it! I think I also get what I really need too.

When she finally wore down her fits to a few sporadic whimpers and began wandering around the house, she discovered her daddy's shoes by the front door.
"DADDY'S", she asserted.

"Yes, daddy's shoes," I reassured her, "he is coming back today,"I said again. "Daddy is coming home later".

Soon all was quiet - too quiet - the nerve racking dangerous quiet a 2 year old should not engage in.  The kind of quiet that parents and grandparents know to investigate - quickly!

I found Cynthia under the piano bench, near the front door, using one shoe as a pillow and the other tucked securely under her arm.

Poor little girl.  Now she alternates between hugging the shoes,

 wearing them,

 carrying them around with her and throwing them at things.

Temper - TEMPER!

 In-between-times we play as usual but then she remembers how hard done by she feels and seems to think having fun is not OK somehow.

And yes I AM still wondering just how old I am.

How like her I am at times!

I know Heavenly Father hears and answers my prayers - even when I don't say them sometimes.  He knows my needs and tries to help me.  So why am I trading happiness and joy for shoes and a binky in a dark corner like under the piano bench?

Does that really get me any closer to Daddy?

That is what we all long for - we want so much to be with him;
even when we don't understand,
even when we lose hope of seeing him again,
even when we are naughty,
even when we don't remember him anymore.

He remembers us. He loves us.  He wants to help us and comfort us. He has even provided us with instructions and everything we truly need to find joy IF we obey. He has a plan. Most of us are surrounded by family and friends just waiting to be with us and help us and love us -IF we will let them.

Perhaps he misses me too.

PEACHES

Fresh from the tree awaiting toast with cream cheese for breakfast

I love peaches!

Peaches grow almost effortlessly and a tree starts producing quickly.  (Not to mention they attract birds - and other things - all of which I am not sure if I love or not.)

a variety of fruit wood prunings 

In the dead of winter if you prune fruit trees and put the cuttings in water the cuttings will bloom.

 I swear it is true.

I make a bouquet of sticks every winter.

 I call it my
 'miracle of the sticks'.






(I look at them and feel a bit foolish - I am not sure why ... )

They always bloom - but what if ...

Try it - it is amazing to see the buds pop out of those dry sticks.

Naking Cherry branches - always prolific and usually first open

It will take more or less time depending on when they are cut and what kind of fruit the cutting is pruned from.

If they are pruned nearer to spring they bloom sooner than if they are pruned earlier - peaches open readily.

 Really - just put them in water, like a bouquet,  and wait.

Peach buds are gloriously bright pink and as leaves creep almost unnoticed into the cool of spring ...

the buds open slowly at first, held back by the cold

but then the tree is suddenly in full flower with buds and blooms everywhere - until many of them  succumb to frost biting just before dawn in many late springs.

Peaches start out as funny elongated furry silver balls that get bigger

and bigger

and bigger

and as they get fuller and rounder

they stay very green all summer

even when they start to show some red under the fuzz.

Nevertheless the narrow leaves and plump fruit are pleasing to just look at - and anticipate.

 There is no hurrying peaches.

Whenever I remember how wonderful they are to eat I weed and water and dig about the tree and surrounding garden.

And as I walk past I pat the tree on the trunk or a branch or pet a nearby cheek of fuzz (carefully, lest an earwig is lurking along a crevice or in a leaf - yikes!!).

I admit I look to see if the peaches are coloring and I feel the heaviness that draws the branches into my reach.


I know to look for a ripe one when the morning bird choir and twittering swooping and hopping among the leaves becomes almost constant.

It is then a contest.  Who will win the battle of the peaches?

This year it was pretty much a dead heat - but they were cheating  - they started eating green, hard fruit -
and complaining did not stop them;
neither did shouting at them or waving my arms.

I suppose I am still greedy - at least about peaches. I even told Cynthia that the naughty birds were eating her peaches and encouraged her to run and shout, "MINE," at them.

I suppose I am still learning to share.

PRESERVED

Here are the 14 pints of peaches my husband and I managed to preserve from the birds.

We also managed to put some peach chunks into the freezer and another tray went directly down the hatch!

They are working on our apples now - birds AND wasps!

Pesky critters those! We are finding whole apple skins hollowed out completely and still hanging on the tree with the core intact inside.  Occasionally an apple like that will be zzzzzzzinnnzggg like crazy and inside it will have dozens and dozens of wasps in a frenzy.

I would try to get a picture but I stay as far away as I can - I am allergic to apples and wasps - frankly Scarlett, I don't .... uhm .... really care if the birds or wasps eat the apples - except of course that there are those that do care, and I care that they care!

Maybe they will take an interesting picture.

FEASTING

This is for the birds! Do you have cheese to go with this whine?

Our peaches are luscious this week.  You don’t eat them, by the way, you pick a ripe one from the tree and ‘drink’ it right there on the spot – honest – you don’t even have to chew, a few slurps and it disappears.

I am a bit frustrated when many of the ripe ones David brings into the house have been pecked at and partially eaten by birds. I use my half for cobbler or other treats and throw the leftovers into the compost pit.  Why is it that I don’t see any birds quarreling with each other to eat the ones on the ground over the fence or the pieces in the pit? 

Today I watched 2 woodpeckers, several robins, a dozen starlings and countless finches or sparrows fluttering around the trees and vines.  They are quite audacious. Even when a person stands under the tree the birds just fly up out of reach or onto a close fence.

The finches are the same naughty redheads that were plucking my apricot blooms last spring. I suppose they were tasting the nectar at the flower’s base but they seemed just bent on a search and destroy mission. 

 

A robin boldly hopped along, completely ignoring randomly thrown pebbles, under the grapes enjoying bugs and grapes – they aren’t even ready yet! And it hardly bothered to move away when someone walked by. I see that almost red tomatoes hanging near the ground are also partly eaten.  I didn’t see the robins do that but I do know they LOVE red fruit!

Some of the green peaches have also been pecked. I can understand the ripe ones but I was surprised to see that.  This morning I saw the woodpeckers – 2 of them – larger than robins with brilliant orange red tails and markings. They checked out every tree and bush here and at the neighbors.  I noticed they were even feasting on the green apples! That is way past audacious. 

I might not mind sharing if they ate the same fruit each time but, like a child unsupervised at a buffet with a finger licked here and a bite there, they peck here and eat there – here a little, there a little, everywhere a little bitty! Nasty birds! But I like birds. 

I plant sunflowers just for birds, and flowers etc with them in mind – not the meanies like the starlings - but I haven’t even been irritated by the greedy sparrows or messy flycatchers.

C’est le vie! I guess I don’t really feel up to canning yet anyway.  I might just as well share.

Come on over.  You and I will have a feast of whatever the birds don’t get first!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BECKY

Today is my sister’s birthday. A birthday is a magic day. It is the day she began life on earth. 

Happy, Happy Birthday, Becky dear

– may happiness come to you all year.

If I had one wish then it would be

A happy, happy birthday to you from me!    Children's Songbook

Each of us have a birth day – the day we were born on.

 I remember the first birth I ever saw – a lamb. I was about 14 or 15.  I was walking casually through a herd of sheep that spring day and saw a ewe strain and then drop the pile of … it looked like part of the insides of an animal being butchered.  I knew it was likely a lamb but wondered if something was wrong – for a part of a second nothing moved – then I recognized a small whitish hoof and then that moved.  Suddenly an ear flapped and with thrashing and the mother’s nudging a lamb flopped free of the birthing membranes; a real live, honest to goodness lamb – alive, bleating and very soon standing on its own.

What a wonder to witness.

Each birth is – a wonder, a miracle.

Each person is an awe inspiring, breath taking wonder. You are. I am.

I kind of tear up every time I see or hold a tiny newborn – newborn anything. 

Thanks mom for giving me life.  Thanks for this stupendous, incredible gift –  a birth day.

And to Becky and everyone else Happy Birth Day – even if it isn’t today.