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.

GREEN SUMMER STIR-FRY (ZUCCHINI)

 A little something to experiment with in the kitchen
-might serve 2 or 3 vegetable lovers.

read first

Mince 1 or 2 small cloves fresh garlic.

Chop 2 small or 1 medium fresh onion(s) include tops if fresh and green (or add chives)

Chop (slice) freshly picked green beans diagonally (or French cut) to expose swathes of tender insides – about 1 cup. Yellow wax beans are also nice in this mix.  

1 medium freshly picked zucchini no larger than 2-3”in diameter quartered and sliced – about 2 cups. Very small squash may be simply sliced into 'coins'. Smaller tender summer squash may be substituted.

Lemon Pepper

Snip fresh dill fronds with kitchen scissors directly into pan near end of cooking

1 Tbsp butter (or olive oil)

Parmesan Cheese optional

Pick and prepare vegetables. This can take all morning if you pull a few weeds and eat some fresh peas or apricots/plums in the shade.

Be sure to dig a hill of new potatoes to zap and enjoy with your greens. 

Prep time from start of cooking until eating – minutes. Be sure to prick the new potatoes and toss them into the microwave before starting the following:

Do not let any of the ingredients brown or scorch - or become mushy.  

Turn down your heat if necessary.

Melt butter in heavy cast iron pan.  Add garlic and onion.

Stir constantly. As soon as vegetables get 'sizzle hot' and nicely coated with butter add green beans.

As pan regains heat and beans begin to sizzle (still stirring and tossing) add zucchini slices.

Continue to stir/shake until pan again sizzles and zucchini is well coated and warming up. 

Sprinkle with Lemon Pepper to taste – perhaps ¼ - ½ tsp

Then snip dill fronds (about 1 Tbsp total) directly onto vegetables – to taste – be liberal.

 Be sure to continue to keep veggies moving to prevent browning. 

As zucchini softens the moisture from it will ‘steam’ the beans. Spill onto center of a small platter, arrange potatoes artfully at corners or sides, sprinkle lightly with fresh parmesan cheese and serve immediately.

I admit my hubby likes sour cream with this dish and we indulge liberally with grilled fish or other grilled meat in the summer.

SCHOOL OF HARD KNOCKS

Nursery is good preparation for the ‘School of Hard Knocks’ otherwise known as LIFE. Since most children that age (about 2 usually) are not articulate enough to tell me about their nursery experience I have to describe it from my own point of view.

If you enter the classroom and claim the nearest or nicest toy as ‘mine’ a variety of options may occur: someone may ‘share’ with you, someone may grab it back and yell/cry ‘mine’ themselves or an adult may mediate turn taking or time out of some kind. 

The first time a 2 year old announces ‘mine’ even the other young children are likely to share and give the newcomer a bit of space to adjust. After that it becomes only a matter of time until anyone that ‘greedy grabs’ constantly will find themselves in a fight – sometimes a vicious fight with scratching, kicking, punching, biting or all of the above and more.

Cynthia, my 2 year old granddaughter, attended nursery yesterday.  Suffice it to say it was not a very happy day.  She discovered that most adults uniformly expect her to share and that failure to do so has consequences.

WOW! Same thing as happens at home! Novel eh?

I am learning a lot from this 2 year old – again.  I think I learned some of these things repetitively in the past, with all of my own 6 children and several of my other grandkids.  I ponder anew my responsibility to share my place and position on the planet.

In scripture Jesus taught that the first commandment is to Love God and the second is to Love Our Neighbor As Ourselves. I have to ask myself, do I? really, do I? even the ones that rob me or punch or bite me?

After teaching the 1^st and 2^nd commandments Christ then instructed that ‘there is none other commandment greater than these’.

NONE? None at all?

Not much wiggle room there me thinks.  Maybe I will have to repent – again.  And you - no more greedy grabbing K? or punching or biting, K?!

Let's play nice. ;)

AGELESS

There is a two year old that lives at my house – no silly, not me – a real genuine 2 year old – my granddaughter, Cynthia.

Soon after her arrival her mother warned us she might establish some overt ownership.  When I got up from the couch to walk I found myself tugging vainly on my cane as she announced, “Mine,” and clasped it firmly in her death grip.

I felt like a 2 year old. I let go. I made do with my walker.

When I returned she was seated on the couch with my blanket and cane.  “Mine,” she said. 

I sat on a soft chair until she moved long enough and far enough that I could hobble to the couch and lay down again.  She glared at me and went directly to the walker.  “Cyndi’s” she claimed and entertained herself until nap time discovering its wheels and brakes, folding and unfolding it, and sitting on the seat that she accidentally popped into place. 

There is a funny saying about ‘what’s mine is mine, what’s yours is mine, if I see it its mine etc.’If anyone has it please send it to me - I want to post it on my frig.

 I am NOT willing to play tug-a-war with a child repetitively.  I pondered, “how can I get what is mine?” – hey, wait a minute, something about that word, mine, has a familiar  ring to it. Am I acting like a 2 year old too?  Is my attitude all about ownership, about ME?

I thought about my sweet little Cyndi and how much she must miss all that was known in her small world before she moved to this new place.  Even her daddy is far away and she only sees and hears him on the phone.  I realized she doesn’t even know what might be hers.  Do I know what is ‘mine’?

I felt a calm realization that nothing is mine and all I have and am I have been blessed with by my loving Father in Heaven.  He promises me that he will share everything he has with me and even tells me how to get it.  He tells me all the ways to achieve everything he has and is.  He calls those suggestions and directions commandments. He even sent his son, Jesus Christ, to show me how to obey and to set an example for me. I wonder if I can set an example for Cyndi.

The next time I need to walk and reach for my cane my granddaughter again grips it and emphatically claims, “mine”.  I smile at her and say, “OK Cynthia, it is yours. Will you share it with me? Please help me walk.”  She loves to help.  She handed over the cane and carefully supervised its use. 

Cynthia now owns most of my house and yard.  That’s OK because we share.  The more she ‘owns’ the more secure she seems to feel and the more willing she is to share and ‘help’. I consider all the things I think I own. I wonder if I am willing to share with others and 'help' them.  

Tonight I winced when I stood up from supper.  I am still having some residual pain occasionally. Sometimes the pain takes me by surprise and I don’t hide it well. Cynthia noticed my funny face.  “You K?” she asked; that surprised me too. When I initially was unable to respond, she asked again, “you K?” Then, in her baby angel voice she inquired, “walker?” and repeated, “walker?’ until I reassured her I was fine.

I hope I can follow her example of care and concern for those around me.  Perhaps I can become more able to follow the Master’s plan and example as I try to do so.  I hope I can always be willing to share too, willing to give – as well as to take; willing to follow a child’s innocent example.

Perhaps I can still learn it’s not all about me.

ABSITIVELY POSOLUTELY

I have not walked in Jerusalem, Bethlehem, or Judea.  I have not visited Gethsemane, Golgotha or the Sea of Galilee.  I have not visited Nauvoo, Palmyra, or seen the Sacred Grove or Hill Cumorah.  I have not attended General Conference in Salt Lake City, Utah and I have not met a prophet or apostle in person.  I don’t need to. Witnessing the physical realities of these tangible things, as compared with seeing them in film or on the internet, would not cause me to know more surely the intangible absolutes that I carry in my heart and mind.

I am a simple person that has lived a simple life limited primarily to my family, near acquaintances and friends, and those I have met through employment or volunteering in the communities I have lived in.  Few people have left a lasting impression on my memory and I suppose even fewer would remember me - I am OK with that - I know we all influence and are influenced in imperceptible ways and by imprecise, imperfect means.

One significant reason causes those that have made a lasting mark to stay fresh in memory: something they did – positive or otherwise - fundamentally changed the manner of thought I have and I became a different being than I was previously. 

I hope that if I am remembered by anyone it is because I have helped them to know one surety - It is summed up in the 1^st Article of Faith of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints – I will quote and paraphrase it as I often find it in my thoughts.

I [ me – a simple, very ordinary and sometimes pathetic being] BELIEVE in God, The Eternal Father [a loving father who loves me and each and every single human being so greatly we cannot begin to understand it], in His son Jesus Christ [my Savior and Redeemer] and in the Holy Ghost [whose reality at times leaves me stunned in awe].

I know with absolute certainty that God is our father in heaven. I know that Jesus Christ is his son.  I know of their grace and mercy in my life and wish I could give every person I see and meet that same assurance of their reality and of their love. I have received that knowledge as a grand gift and it gives hope and peace and strength. 

These things are among the intangible absolutes that transcend even my own existence.  I know.

 God knows I know.  I know – really.

SONGS IN MY HEART

I learned the words to many songs during my childhood and youth – many of them were hymns – some mere nonsense and others music popular to the time.  The words and sound of most of those songs seem as much a part of me as my fingers or toes, my hair or my nose.

Ephesians 5:19–20 says, “… [Speak] to yourselves in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody in your heart to the Lord; giving thanks always for all things unto God and the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ."

At my request, my husband played the piano today – I said, “just pick something soothing-ish.” (He knows, btw, that I detest dirges). He sat and began to play a song that is one of my favorites: 

“Whenever I hear the song of a bird

Or look at the blue, blue sky,

 Whenever I feel the rain on my face

Or the wind as it rushes by,
Whenever I touch a velvet rose

Or walk by a lilac tree,

I’m glad that I live in this beautiful world

… Yes, I know Heavenly Father loves for me.”

I learned this song, 'My Heavenly Father Loves Me', intimately when I taught it to young children in sign language. (I was working as an ASL Interpreter for kindergarten students at that time and taught a deaf child that age in the Primary class at church that I was assigned to. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, also known by the nickname Mormon's, provides many valuable resources free of charge.)  Seeking just the right turn of phrase or culturally accepted idiom to transliterate is always fun: keeping it simple enough for a young child is doubly so.

My husband then began to play Hymn 142, "Sweet Hour of Prayer".  He says he chose it randomly. I found myself praising God for the magnanimous blessings I feel in my life every day. In 1946 George Albert Smith said, "I wonder sometimes if we realize the importance of music. I wonder if we know that the Lord himself is concerned about it. He has given us the information that the song of praise is a prayer unto him. . . . It [is] our privilege, yea, our blessing, to sing and . . . our songs should be sung in righteousness."

1. Sweet hour of prayer! Sweet hour of prayer!
That calls me from a world of care
And bids me at my Father’s throne
Make all my wants and wishes known.
In seasons of distress and grief,
My soul has often found relief
And oft escaped the tempter’s snare
By thy return, sweet hour of prayer!
And oft escaped the tempter’s snare
By thy return, sweet hour of prayer!

2. Sweet hour of prayer! Sweet hour of prayer!
Thy wings shall my petition bear
To him whose truth and faithfulness
Engage the waiting soul to bless.
And since he bids me seek his face,
Believe his word, and trust his grace,
I’ll cast on him my ev’ry care
And wait for thee, sweet hour of prayer!
I’ll cast on him my ev’ry care
And wait for thee, sweet hour of prayer!

Text: Attr. to William W. Walford, 1772–1850, alt.
Music: William B. Bradbury, 1816–1868, alt.
Psalm 55:16–17, 22
Philippians 4:6–7


And then my husband began a song I did not know well. I could only call to mind a snatch here and a phrase there, Hymn 157. I had to ask him the name and get to book to refresh it in my mind.  I remember "Thy Spirit Lord, Has Stirred Our Souls" but it is not a song I know well - yet it felt as if I did. Neal A. Maxwell taught, "When we rejoice in beautiful scenery, great art, and great music, it is but the flexing of instincts acquired in another place and another time." May Ensign 1984 pg 21 

1. Thy Spirit, Lord, has stirred our souls,
And by its inward shining glow
We see anew our sacred goals
And feel thy nearness here below.
No burning bush near Sinai
Could show thy presence, Lord, more nigh.

2. “Did not our hearts within us burn?”
We know the Spirit’s fire is here.
It makes our souls for service yearn;
It makes the path of duty clear.
Lord, may it prompt us, day by day,
In all we do, in all we say.


Text: Frank I. Kooyman, 1880–1963. © 1948 IRI
Music: Alexander Schreiner, 1901–1987. © 1948 IRI
Mosiah 5:2
Luke 24:32 (13–35)

In Colossians 3:16 we read, "Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom; teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord."


Boyd K. Packer a prophet in this, our time, has taught many times about music. He tells us,  "The Spirit does not ratify speech nor confirm music which lacks spiritual substance ... the hymns of the Restoration are, in fact, a course in doctrine!" President Boyd K. Packer, Ensign, Nov. 1991, 22  


Other prophets have also instructed us extensively about the media we place in our minds. (See Russel M. Nelson, 'The Power and Protection of Worthy Music' or David A. Bednar, 'Things As They Really Are')


I am not a musician; you might cringe to hear my vocal chords attempt to sing; but gratitude brings tears to my eyes and silences my mouth when I hear such music. Spencer W. Kimball explained that, "We are in a position, as musicians, to touch the souls of those who listen." Teachings of Spencer W. Kimball (1982), 520 


The best I can do is to pass along great music I find and to listen to the media I encounter selectively.


The First Presidency teaches further, "The hymns can bring families to a spirit of beauty and peace and can inspire love and unity among family members. Teach your children to love the hymns. Sing them on the Sabbath, in home evening, during scripture study, at prayer time. Sing as you work, as you play, and as you travel together. Sing hymns as lullabies to build faith and testimony in your young ones" (First Presidency preface to Hymns, page x).


I think I will sing more. 
I think I will take the prophets at their word. 
I think my mother did. She learned it from her mother.


I am grateful. 

HOLLYHOCK DOLLS

My mother taught me to make dolls with Hollyhock flowers. She says she learned it from her mother.

I made 2 this morning to see if I could show a granddaughter - she was delighted.

Years ago when I asked, my grandmother said, "everyone knows how to make them - anyone could have [taught me]."

my maternal grandparents in their yard

July 24 is a day of celebration and commemoration for members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. It is commonly known and celebrated as Pioneer Day. We remember our ancestors and others that were pioneers in all contexts. Our family often spent it with my mother's parents.

Our family has many progenitors that came to North America from Europe seeking liberty and freedoms not readily available in their homelands in the 16th and 17th centuries. They settled along the east coast and as we study the founding history of the United States and Canada we find their names and deeds laced throughout our reading.

We find it fascinating!

Our heritage also threads through the history of the LDS church. Many of our 3rd and 4th great-grandfathers and great-grandmothers knew Joseph Smith and declared him an honorable, honest and noble man and joined their futures and fortunes to the church and its teachings. We have many of their journals, letters, photos and other documents (but no hollyhock doll instructions).

The lives of our ancestors consisted of work, hobbies and other pastimes that are becoming forgotten. Hollyhock dolls were a part of the play of many children of past centuries. This is my attempt to preserve a pleasure I took for granted. I remember helping my mother water the few flowers and shrubs near our home with buckets of water pumped by hand from a carefully primed well.

Every drop of water was precious and doled out with care. Hollyhocks grew near many pioneer cabins and dugout hovels because they survive with little water and, with the luxury of water left over from cleaning and mopping, they thrive.

Just a small aside here: liquids really could be scarce and were not wasted. Every edible liquid was used for meal preparation. Every bucket of water had many uses. After being used to wash dishes, water could be used to clean boots or scrub the floor. At bath time babies were bathed first, then ladies - just add another kettle to warm it up a bit, then children and lastly the caked-with-dirt-and-grime men; in the same tub of water! This 'bath' water also had many uses.  After water became 'almost mud' then the vegetables were watered and lastly the flowers.

Hollyhocks come in many colors, sizes and varieties. They can grow well over 6 feet or more in height.

Some people claim they can be eaten so children that are inclined to taste things or put them in their mouths will not be harmed by them. I think they are fairly tasteless except for the white part - it is said to be bitter. 

Many years have passed since I made these dolls but when my daughter asked about how to do it I decided to try to make some even though I only had a couple of smallish pink and darker reddish Hollyhock plants that summer. 

This would be called a 'skirt' - larger is better - after all we want a 'full' skirt - but if you want a more narrow skirt pick a bloom that is not opened so far - use your imagination.

In the upper right is a partially open bud - this could be a head/bonnet or you could use a smaller tighter bud like you will see in the next picture.

My first try was just to stick them together. Since I couldn't quite remember how that was accomplished I used what was at hand, cheated, picked up a rusty nail and punched a hole.

Here is the first doll -

I didn't think it looked right and I remembered having to peel some layers and not using a nail or anything to put a hole in it - seemed like there should be a hole or at least a weak point to push the stem through ...

so I picked a new bud - red so you can see the difference and a bit more open (notice it has 2 layers of green around the base of the flower just above the stem that is pointing at you)

and I begin to peel away the first layer of green

being very careful to not damage the bud or deeper layers - I don't want anything falling apart (not that anything ever did - don't worry so much - it won't)
-

and this is a close up so you can see it coming apart

- popped right off - with the guidance of a sharp fingernail

and this is where I expected to see the hole but nope - I did see a softer area so I tried it - wouldn't push in there so -

cheating again - use every resource at hand - still have that old nail left in the flower bed (from after the wind blew away part of our roof and it was replaced) - no matter how many I pick up there seems to always be one more.

and I plunge it in and make a hole,

and push in the stem of the 'skirt',

seat them together

and I have a new doll -

but I think this takes way more imagination than we use to use -

where are the little eyes that I remember, and why did we so aptly pretend it had a bonnet like a Spanish dancing lady ...

and I do not remember using any sticks or tools to make them or hold them together  ...

what if I took away the second layer of green?

what is under there?

not much besides what I already had but what if I go a bit deeper - just on the flat 'base' end circle part that kind of looks like it should give way ...

I scrape away a scrap of green still clinging and viola

there it is - there is a tiny little hole in there

- just like I remembered ...

and the pinky on the right flicks out a piece of debris in the way

as I position the stem of the 'skirt' to go up into the 'head' - but the curl won't push in so I shorten it a tiny bit and then it will - it had to be a bit stiffer I suppose

and push it in

all the way snug against each other

OHH! Look! a dolly with eyes and a huge headdress - no wonder we had so much fun with these - we'd make a bevy of beauties and then they would socialize and play - their dresses all unique - short green bustles, aprons and collars, sometimes many layers of parts added on or pinched off.

I loved the variegated edged ones and some blooms were considerably larger and therefore longer than these; also the buds could be 'bent' from funny growth into curious oddities that might give it more personality -

see the bustle of a leaf that hasn't separated? Imagination is the key ingredient here.

And really no cheating (with a nail to punch a hole or things to hold them together) is needed.

I was quite surprised too when I left them in the sun on the step but several hours later was showing off to a neighbor that came by and they were still looking quite fresh not wilted - when I tugged on them to show her how they were put together they were stuck fast and difficult to remove - like the sap was a seal - COOL!!!

Sometimes, as a child, I would make believe the top was the body and her arms were thrown up in the dance with a swirl that hid the 'head' inside - sure enough - look inside and see the fuzzy pollen head.

With bit of fern like plants or grasses etc many fanciful creatures were created. Give it a try. If you e-mail me [ liforames@gmail.com ] photos of your creations I will add them here for everyone to enjoy. HAPPY IMAGINING!