Another new year has come, and I never wrote about the word I chose to focus on last year. Before I get too far away from the past year, I’d like to check that box.
In the year 2009 I chose, not a word, but a phrase: I Need Thee Every Hour.
I had no idea how much I would need that thought this past year.
One of the benefits of focusing on a word or phrase for an extended period of time is that your mind expands, and you gain a greater understanding of what you are thinking about. As I thought about why we need God, how often we need Him, and in what ways we need Him, I came to understand better that we do indeed need Him every hour. I learned that He is always there, that as we remember Him, He remembers us.
I also realized that He needs us. He needs us to think of Him, to know Him, to listen to Him, and to follow Him. He needs us to do that so He can make Himself known to us, so He can bless us, so He can guide us and use us in His strait way.
It has helped me better understand who He is, what He has done, and what He will do for us.
WHY “ I Need Thee Every Hour”:
** For life itself, for He is The Life that gives life to every man and all that in the world there is.
** For Light, for he is The Light that lighteth the earth and the heavens and those that dwell therein... The Light of Truth, of intelligence, and of Love. He is the Light in the darkness, and makes our burdens light.
** Hope, for His is the only name under heaven by which man may be saved, from sin and from sorrow, from discouragement and doubt, from death itself. It is by His merits we are saved, not by ours.
** To remember who I am, and whose I am, and that I was bought with a price, and am His.
** To be forgiven, cleansed, and sanctified, worthy of His presence.
** Love, for as I feel His love, I am filled with love for Him and for His children.
** Peace, not as the world giveth, but that which can only come from Him.
** For gratitude, to know from Whom my blessings flow, and who to thank for them.
** To be my shield and my protection from evil and from danger every moment of every day.
** He is Master, to help me withstand temptations, to change my carnal nature, to overcome the world, as He did.
** He is Teacher, a personal tutor for my particular curriculum in life.
** To be a Witness to the world as His light shines through me.
This scripture best expresses how I feel about this past year:
I say unto you, that as ye have come to the knowledge of the glory of God,
or if ye have known of his goodness and have tasted of his love,
even so I would that ye should remember,
and always retain in your remembrance--
the greatness of God,
and your own nothingness,
and his goodness and longsuffering towards you.
If you do this,
ye shall always rejoice,
and be filled with the love of God,
and ye shall grow in the knowledge of the glory of him that created you,
and in the knowledge of that which is just and true.
(Book of Mormon, Mosiah 4:11-12)
Truly, we need Him every hour.
Monday, January 04, 2010
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Declaration of Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving was instituted as a national holiday by Abraham Lincoln—in the midst of the Civil War! Some of the similarities of that occasion to our own today are striking. He noted that outside of the battlefields, life in America was passing in an orderly and peaceful fashion. Also, that in the midst of crises, we are prone to forget our daily bounties, and the source from which they come.
In 1863, Abraham Lincoln said:
"It is the duty of nations as well as of men to own their dependence upon the overruling power of God; and to recognize the sublime truth, announced in the Holy Scriptures and proven by all history, that those nations are blessed whose God is the Lord.
We have been the recipients of the choicest bounties of heaven; we have been preserved these many years in peace and prosperity; we have grown in numbers, wealth and power as no other nation has ever grown.
But we have forgotten God. We have forgotten the gracious hand which preserved us in peace and multiplied and enriched and strengthened us, and we have vainly imagined, in the deceitfulness of our hearts, that all these blessings were produced by some superior wisdom and virtue of our own. Intoxicated with unbroken success, we have become too self-sufficient to feel the necessity of redeeming and preserving grace, too proud to pray to the God that made us.
It has seemed to me fit and proper that God should be solemnly, reverently, and gratefully acknowledged, as with one heart and one voice, by the whole American people. I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November as a day of Thanksgiving and praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the heavens.”
Happy THANKS-GIVING!
In 1863, Abraham Lincoln said:
"It is the duty of nations as well as of men to own their dependence upon the overruling power of God; and to recognize the sublime truth, announced in the Holy Scriptures and proven by all history, that those nations are blessed whose God is the Lord.
We have been the recipients of the choicest bounties of heaven; we have been preserved these many years in peace and prosperity; we have grown in numbers, wealth and power as no other nation has ever grown.
But we have forgotten God. We have forgotten the gracious hand which preserved us in peace and multiplied and enriched and strengthened us, and we have vainly imagined, in the deceitfulness of our hearts, that all these blessings were produced by some superior wisdom and virtue of our own. Intoxicated with unbroken success, we have become too self-sufficient to feel the necessity of redeeming and preserving grace, too proud to pray to the God that made us.
It has seemed to me fit and proper that God should be solemnly, reverently, and gratefully acknowledged, as with one heart and one voice, by the whole American people. I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November as a day of Thanksgiving and praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the heavens.”
Happy THANKS-GIVING!
Monday, November 16, 2009
Lessons Learned in the School of Adversity
I am not yet as Job, or Abraham, or my pioneer ancestors, but I have lived long enough to call Trouble my friend. I’d like to share some personal things I’ve learned in the school of adversity, and the bumper stickers that see me through.
• Adversity happens.
Ann Landers, after decades of dishing out daily advice in her newspaper column, said this: “If I were asked to give what I consider to be the single most useful bit of advice for all humanity, it would be this: Expect trouble -- as an inevitable part of life…”
Somewhere we got the idea that the norm, or the ideal life, is one of ease and comfort, and that trials are the aberration that get in our way, but I think we have that backwards. (1 Peter 4:12)
• I’ve learned that lots of things can go wrong at once, and some things can go very wrong, but never does everything go wrong all at the same time. There are always blessings to be counted, things that are right, and evidence of God’s grace in our life.
• It could always be worse. Last week we had a plumbing leak at our house. A few days later I heard of someone whose whole house flooded. Even that can’t compare to having your house washed away in a hurricane -–which is nothing next to the loss of a soul.
• When I feel sorry for myself I think of the pioneers, and so many other times and places where people have suffered so awfully much. It puts my own problems into perspective.
• When you are suffering, you can choose to go around with a long face, or not. You have a choice. Pain is inevitable; misery is optional. Laughing is better than crying; it’s more fun and your makeup doesn’t run.
• Play it as it lays. We can waste a lot of time, energy and happiness by wishing things were different. It’s a lot more productive and peaceful to accept things as they really are, and go from there.
• Good things come out of bad things. For those who have eyes to see, doors will open, good will come, Beauty will rise out of the ashes. (Isaiah 61:3)
• Fear and worry cannot coexist with faith. You must choose one or the other. I like faith; it feels better. And when I cannot find it within myself, I pray for it.
• You can endure a lot more than you think you can, or want to. We’re fond of saying we’re afraid we could never have been a pioneer, but I wonder if we aren’t more afraid that we could!
• Although you may feel alone, you are never ever really alone. We do not suffer out of God’s view. No one else may know of our pain, but He does.
• Adversity strips the fluff down to the real stuff. The vain and trivial melt away, and we are left with the real us, real life, and those things that really matter.
• There is peace in the eye of the storm. "We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair, cast down, but not destroyed. " 2 Corinthians 4:8-9 Whatever storms are raging around us, we can find peace. I have been in that place.
• Adversity is not fun! No matter how much we know about it, and understand its purposes and promises, it still is not any fun at all. In fact, the pain is very real, and it can be really hard.
• This too shall pass, though not always in this lifetime. There are things we live through, and things we live with. But for the faithful, nothing bad lasts forever, and nothing can ever go permanently wrong.
• We can trust in the Lord that there is purpose in all things.
The sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us. And we know that all things work together for the good to them that love God. Romans 8:18, 28
• It took me a long time, but I’ve learned that Adversity is a gift.
1. To know ourselves—to know of what stuff we are made and what we can be.
“No pain that we suffer, no trial that we experience is wasted. It ministers to our education, to the development of … patience, faith, fortitude, and humility. All that we suffer and all that we endure builds up our characters, purifies our hearts, expands our souls, and makes us more charitable, more worthy to be called the children of God. “ Orson F. Whitney
2. To know others. It is through our common woes that we find love and compassion and friendship in meaningful ways.
3. To know God. “We know about our Savior, but it is often in our adversities that we truly find Him and know Him and love Him… “ Ardeth Kapp, “Pray Not for Light Burdens but for Strong Backs” BYUWC 2005
And so, Affliction comes to us all—
Not to make us sad, but to make us sober;
Not to make us sorry, but to make us wise;
Not to overcome us, but for us to overcome;
Not to punish, but to bless.
• Adversity happens.
Ann Landers, after decades of dishing out daily advice in her newspaper column, said this: “If I were asked to give what I consider to be the single most useful bit of advice for all humanity, it would be this: Expect trouble -- as an inevitable part of life…”
Somewhere we got the idea that the norm, or the ideal life, is one of ease and comfort, and that trials are the aberration that get in our way, but I think we have that backwards. (1 Peter 4:12)
• I’ve learned that lots of things can go wrong at once, and some things can go very wrong, but never does everything go wrong all at the same time. There are always blessings to be counted, things that are right, and evidence of God’s grace in our life.
• It could always be worse. Last week we had a plumbing leak at our house. A few days later I heard of someone whose whole house flooded. Even that can’t compare to having your house washed away in a hurricane -–which is nothing next to the loss of a soul.
• When I feel sorry for myself I think of the pioneers, and so many other times and places where people have suffered so awfully much. It puts my own problems into perspective.
• When you are suffering, you can choose to go around with a long face, or not. You have a choice. Pain is inevitable; misery is optional. Laughing is better than crying; it’s more fun and your makeup doesn’t run.
• Play it as it lays. We can waste a lot of time, energy and happiness by wishing things were different. It’s a lot more productive and peaceful to accept things as they really are, and go from there.
• Good things come out of bad things. For those who have eyes to see, doors will open, good will come, Beauty will rise out of the ashes. (Isaiah 61:3)
• Fear and worry cannot coexist with faith. You must choose one or the other. I like faith; it feels better. And when I cannot find it within myself, I pray for it.
• You can endure a lot more than you think you can, or want to. We’re fond of saying we’re afraid we could never have been a pioneer, but I wonder if we aren’t more afraid that we could!
• Although you may feel alone, you are never ever really alone. We do not suffer out of God’s view. No one else may know of our pain, but He does.
• Adversity strips the fluff down to the real stuff. The vain and trivial melt away, and we are left with the real us, real life, and those things that really matter.
• There is peace in the eye of the storm. "We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair, cast down, but not destroyed. " 2 Corinthians 4:8-9 Whatever storms are raging around us, we can find peace. I have been in that place.
• Adversity is not fun! No matter how much we know about it, and understand its purposes and promises, it still is not any fun at all. In fact, the pain is very real, and it can be really hard.
• This too shall pass, though not always in this lifetime. There are things we live through, and things we live with. But for the faithful, nothing bad lasts forever, and nothing can ever go permanently wrong.
• We can trust in the Lord that there is purpose in all things.
The sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us. And we know that all things work together for the good to them that love God. Romans 8:18, 28
• It took me a long time, but I’ve learned that Adversity is a gift.
1. To know ourselves—to know of what stuff we are made and what we can be.
“No pain that we suffer, no trial that we experience is wasted. It ministers to our education, to the development of … patience, faith, fortitude, and humility. All that we suffer and all that we endure builds up our characters, purifies our hearts, expands our souls, and makes us more charitable, more worthy to be called the children of God. “ Orson F. Whitney
2. To know others. It is through our common woes that we find love and compassion and friendship in meaningful ways.
3. To know God. “We know about our Savior, but it is often in our adversities that we truly find Him and know Him and love Him… “ Ardeth Kapp, “Pray Not for Light Burdens but for Strong Backs” BYUWC 2005
And so, Affliction comes to us all—
Not to make us sad, but to make us sober;
Not to make us sorry, but to make us wise;
Not to overcome us, but for us to overcome;
Not to punish, but to bless.
One more thing...
I know my daughter said I could never speak again of my eventual passing or funeral, but I have one more thing to say, and it needs to be in a place where you can find it when the time comes.
So forgive me please, as I found a poem, now a song, that I would like printed on the program for my funeral.
Oliver Wendell Holmes so beautifully expresses what would be my prayer:
Thou Gracious God, Whose mercy lends
The light of home, the smile of friends,
Our gathered flock Thine arms enfold,
As in the peaceful days of old.
For all the blessings life has brought,
For all the sorrowing hours have taught,
For all we mourn, for all we keep,
The hands we clasp, the loved that sleep.
We thank Thee Father; let Thy grace
Our loving circle still embrace,
Thy mercies shed its heav’nly store,
Thy peace be with us evermore.
So forgive me please, as I found a poem, now a song, that I would like printed on the program for my funeral.
Oliver Wendell Holmes so beautifully expresses what would be my prayer:
Thou Gracious God, Whose mercy lends
The light of home, the smile of friends,
Our gathered flock Thine arms enfold,
As in the peaceful days of old.
For all the blessings life has brought,
For all the sorrowing hours have taught,
For all we mourn, for all we keep,
The hands we clasp, the loved that sleep.
We thank Thee Father; let Thy grace
Our loving circle still embrace,
Thy mercies shed its heav’nly store,
Thy peace be with us evermore.
Sunday, July 05, 2009
Landscapes
Whenever we drive to the doctors, or the medical center, or the hospital, we drive through major construction. It is fun to see the changes and the progress being made. I think it’s interesting.
But what I feel is something quite different: it feels like a metaphor of my life. Life right now feels all torn up, with detours along the way, it’s tricky to negotiate, and it changes every day.
We look forward to the time when the road work is all finished, functional and beautiful, even though the familiar landscape will be very different.
We can’t see the progress inside R’s body; we hope it’s improving and getting better. The part where it’s finished, functional and beautiful will probably come much later.
What we do know is, the landscape of our mortal life is forever changed.
But what I feel is something quite different: it feels like a metaphor of my life. Life right now feels all torn up, with detours along the way, it’s tricky to negotiate, and it changes every day.
We look forward to the time when the road work is all finished, functional and beautiful, even though the familiar landscape will be very different.
We can’t see the progress inside R’s body; we hope it’s improving and getting better. The part where it’s finished, functional and beautiful will probably come much later.
What we do know is, the landscape of our mortal life is forever changed.
Friday, July 03, 2009
Draw from The Well
The Sea of Galilee is not very large, but it must have seemed so to the disciples tossing in its tempest. In the midst of the storm, Jesus said to them: Be of good cheer.
To Paul who was in prison, knowing his life was in danger, Jesus said, Be of good cheer.
To a paralyzed man who could not walk or work or move, Jesus said, Be of good cheer.
To pioneers trekking west at great sacrifice, the Lord revealed, But with JOY, wend your way.
God meant it when he said, Men are that they might have joy.
We understand the joy we’ll have at the end of our journey, when we move on to a better world, but God meant for us to have joy in this life, even in the midst of storms, struggles, and sorrow.
It’s easy to be happy when things are going well, but how can we can have joy when they’re not?
The answer may be found in the story of the woman at the well.
She is a Samaritan, and comes to the well seeking water.
There she finds a Stranger, who asks her for a drink.
The stranger, the Savior, said, "If only thou knewest the gifts that God has for thee, thou wouldst ask water of me.”
What gifts did the Lord have to offer her?
What water did He have that one would never thirst again?
What can we draw from Heaven’s well of Living Water?
I can tell you some of the gifts that I have drawn from wells of salvation:
I have drawn Knowledge: that God lives, and not just that He exists, but that he lives nearer to us than we know. He hears our prayers, even the very thoughts of our mind and desires of our hearts, and He cares, and He answers!
I have drawn Hope –the sure assurance that there is meaning and purpose to all things, that our lives matter, that there will be a better time and place, and it will be worth it.
I have drawn Peace – the peace which passeth all understanding, not as the world giveth, but as the Lord giveth. I have stood in the eye of the storm, and felt the calm that comes from Him.
I have drawn Faith in the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, by whom all things are made possible, by whom all things can be made right, by whose Living Water I have felt cleansed, healed, and been given new life.
We can live happily, even with joy, even side by side with sorrow, as we draw out of the well of salvation the gifts that God has for his children.
Therefore with joy shall ye draw water
“Whatever hour God has blessed you with,
To Paul who was in prison, knowing his life was in danger, Jesus said, Be of good cheer.
To a paralyzed man who could not walk or work or move, Jesus said, Be of good cheer.
To pioneers trekking west at great sacrifice, the Lord revealed, But with JOY, wend your way.
God meant it when he said, Men are that they might have joy.
We understand the joy we’ll have at the end of our journey, when we move on to a better world, but God meant for us to have joy in this life, even in the midst of storms, struggles, and sorrow.
It’s easy to be happy when things are going well, but how can we can have joy when they’re not?
The answer may be found in the story of the woman at the well.
She is a Samaritan, and comes to the well seeking water.
There she finds a Stranger, who asks her for a drink.
The stranger, the Savior, said, "If only thou knewest the gifts that God has for thee, thou wouldst ask water of me.”
What gifts did the Lord have to offer her?
What water did He have that one would never thirst again?
What can we draw from Heaven’s well of Living Water?
I can tell you some of the gifts that I have drawn from wells of salvation:
I have drawn Knowledge: that God lives, and not just that He exists, but that he lives nearer to us than we know. He hears our prayers, even the very thoughts of our mind and desires of our hearts, and He cares, and He answers!
I have drawn Hope –the sure assurance that there is meaning and purpose to all things, that our lives matter, that there will be a better time and place, and it will be worth it.
I have drawn Peace – the peace which passeth all understanding, not as the world giveth, but as the Lord giveth. I have stood in the eye of the storm, and felt the calm that comes from Him.
I have drawn Faith in the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, by whom all things are made possible, by whom all things can be made right, by whose Living Water I have felt cleansed, healed, and been given new life.
We can live happily, even with joy, even side by side with sorrow, as we draw out of the well of salvation the gifts that God has for his children.
Therefore with joy shall ye draw water
out of the wells of salvation.
Is 12:2-3
“Whatever hour God has blessed you with,
take it with grateful hand,
nor postpone your joys from year to year,
so that in whatever place you have been,
you may say that you have lived happily.”
Horace, ancient Roman philosopher
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Half a Year
Today is the first day of July. That means half of the year has officially come and gone.
We will always think of this as the year R got sick, or more correctly, that we found out he was sick. Hard to believe it has been six months, half a year, of sickness.
It doesn’t seem that long. Everything was normal until Christmas. Then in January we started medications, and a very big change in our lives. The past six months have been a series of hospital stays, doctors’ appointments, poking, prodding, testing and waiting. We’ve had good days, bad days, scary days, dull days, things unknown and things to be decided. Each day a measure of pills, of body, of soul. Every day different from our life before.
Instead of being gone day and night, R now seldom leaves the house. Our children have come to visit, each a help and a joy to us. One of them has stayed on with her family, another change in our life, and a great help and joy to us. Friends come to lift our load and our hearts.
Time lays heavier, hearts are tenderer, daily routines changed. There are things we no longer do, places we no longer go. We find ourselves questioning life, past, present and future. We find more meaning in our past, comfort in our present, and an absolutely unknown future.
I don’t know what the next six months will be like.
But Que Sara, Sara, --what will be, will be.
Meanwhile we take each day as it comes, count our blessings, of which there are many, and find joy in the here and now, and hope in the times to come.
We will always think of this as the year R got sick, or more correctly, that we found out he was sick. Hard to believe it has been six months, half a year, of sickness.
It doesn’t seem that long. Everything was normal until Christmas. Then in January we started medications, and a very big change in our lives. The past six months have been a series of hospital stays, doctors’ appointments, poking, prodding, testing and waiting. We’ve had good days, bad days, scary days, dull days, things unknown and things to be decided. Each day a measure of pills, of body, of soul. Every day different from our life before.
Instead of being gone day and night, R now seldom leaves the house. Our children have come to visit, each a help and a joy to us. One of them has stayed on with her family, another change in our life, and a great help and joy to us. Friends come to lift our load and our hearts.
Time lays heavier, hearts are tenderer, daily routines changed. There are things we no longer do, places we no longer go. We find ourselves questioning life, past, present and future. We find more meaning in our past, comfort in our present, and an absolutely unknown future.
I don’t know what the next six months will be like.
But Que Sara, Sara, --what will be, will be.
Meanwhile we take each day as it comes, count our blessings, of which there are many, and find joy in the here and now, and hope in the times to come.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Happy Unbirthday to Me!
Some things are just worth blogging about. This is one of those things.
Today I got a birthday present. No, it’s not my birthday, but it is my husband’s.
Together we received a most amazing present from our eight children.
We’re going on a cruise!!!!
(Jump! Shout! Knock yourself out!)
They all put in together to give us a BIG chunk of money to make it possible. Wow.
I knew they were up to something, but I had no idea what.
The FedEx package arrived yesterday.
I had a feeling we shouldn’t open it right away.
My son-in-law Scott has been working very late every night. When he said he would be home in time for the party, and wanted to be here when it was opened, I figured it was something special.
I knew just enough to be more excited than my husband.
FINALLY the moment came to open it. We saved the best for last.
And that’s saying something since I had just given him a stationery bike for his birthday.
He opened the first envelope.
The second envelope said, Do Not Open unless properly supervised (by Mom). If hanging over him counts, check.
He opened the second envelope.
There was a small, hand-made folding card wrapped in ribbon. Aha. Jennifer had worked her magic.
He opened it and started to read. The look on his face changed. I got the Kleenex.
After silently reading two pages, I couldn’t stand it, and asked if I could read with him over his shoulder. Back to page one, then two. I reached for my own Kleenex.
Cute, clever poetry was slowly revealing what the gift was. Notes from each child to their Dad on every other page. He’s now officially a basket case.
While he slowly read each word, I am jumping out of my skin, reading quickly and wanting to get to the end. Finally there it is. The gift of money to take a much-deserved and much needed trip. Wow.
I’ve wanted to take a cruise for a while. Valerie thought I must know what the gift was because I mentioned it so often. But I didn’t.
Because of recent health issues, my husband didn’t feel we could do it financially, and wasn’t up to even talking about it. He’s up to it now.
And we’re stoked!!!!!!!!
There is nothing like looking forward to something to perk a person up.
Wow. I am still jumping out of my skin. I am on Cloud 9. I could just pop a button!
Unbelievable that our children would do this for us. But then, they are unbelievable. Unbelievably wonderful.
So we are going on a cruise.
And it will be even sweeter because our children made it possible.
It will be sweet from this moment until we go.
It will be sweet the whole time we’re on it.
It will be sweet the remainder of our lives that they did that for us, especially in these unstable times.
We don’t know how to thank them, except to invite them to go with us. That would be total, absolute, complete sweetness.
Probably they can't all come. We wish we could do that for them.
But they'll be there, in our minds and in our grateful hearts.
To our children and their families who made this possible, thanks, and thanks, and more thanks!!
We love you too.
Today I got a birthday present. No, it’s not my birthday, but it is my husband’s.
Together we received a most amazing present from our eight children.
We’re going on a cruise!!!!
(Jump! Shout! Knock yourself out!)
They all put in together to give us a BIG chunk of money to make it possible. Wow.
I knew they were up to something, but I had no idea what.
The FedEx package arrived yesterday.
I had a feeling we shouldn’t open it right away.
My son-in-law Scott has been working very late every night. When he said he would be home in time for the party, and wanted to be here when it was opened, I figured it was something special.
I knew just enough to be more excited than my husband.
FINALLY the moment came to open it. We saved the best for last.
And that’s saying something since I had just given him a stationery bike for his birthday.
He opened the first envelope.
The second envelope said, Do Not Open unless properly supervised (by Mom). If hanging over him counts, check.
He opened the second envelope.
There was a small, hand-made folding card wrapped in ribbon. Aha. Jennifer had worked her magic.
He opened it and started to read. The look on his face changed. I got the Kleenex.
After silently reading two pages, I couldn’t stand it, and asked if I could read with him over his shoulder. Back to page one, then two. I reached for my own Kleenex.
Cute, clever poetry was slowly revealing what the gift was. Notes from each child to their Dad on every other page. He’s now officially a basket case.
While he slowly read each word, I am jumping out of my skin, reading quickly and wanting to get to the end. Finally there it is. The gift of money to take a much-deserved and much needed trip. Wow.
I’ve wanted to take a cruise for a while. Valerie thought I must know what the gift was because I mentioned it so often. But I didn’t.
Because of recent health issues, my husband didn’t feel we could do it financially, and wasn’t up to even talking about it. He’s up to it now.
And we’re stoked!!!!!!!!
There is nothing like looking forward to something to perk a person up.
The third envelope fueled our excitement even more with information on several different cruises we might be interested in. Oh, we're interested. We want to do them all!
Wow. I am still jumping out of my skin. I am on Cloud 9. I could just pop a button!
Unbelievable that our children would do this for us. But then, they are unbelievable. Unbelievably wonderful.
So we are going on a cruise.
And it will be even sweeter because our children made it possible.
It will be sweet from this moment until we go.
It will be sweet the whole time we’re on it.
It will be sweet the remainder of our lives that they did that for us, especially in these unstable times.
We don’t know how to thank them, except to invite them to go with us. That would be total, absolute, complete sweetness.
Probably they can't all come. We wish we could do that for them.
But they'll be there, in our minds and in our grateful hearts.
To our children and their families who made this possible, thanks, and thanks, and more thanks!!
We love you too.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Resolutions
You may or may not be one who makes New Year’s resolutions, who sets goals and checks them off, but every follower of Christ should be striving to improve, striving even for perfection.
I heard recently this definition of a goal: to think about an ideal, about life as you want it to be.
What would your ideal life be? What would it look like? What kind of person would you be in that life?
When we have a vision of what we would like to happen, of what we would like it to look like, then we can better plan the steps that will bring us closer to that ideal.
Ideals are stars to steer by, not sticks to beat ourselves with.
Often the gap between the ideal and where we are is filled with discouragement, guilt, hopelessness, unhappiness. But a proper attitude towards the ideal should motivate us, and help us to see our way more clearly.
Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, or what’s a heaven for? (Robert Browning)
Without vision, we may find ourselves jumping, but only in one place.
We may not reach a goal we make, but the very setting of it improves our focus and efforts to try.
We aim above the mark to hit the mark.
Improving ourselves is really not an optional choice; if we are not improving we are probably, like water, taking the path of least resistance, the path of the natural man.
You are what you do--not what you want to do, or intend to do, or wish you could do, but you actually do do." (Paul Dunn)
If I remember the story right, Alice asks the Cheshire Cat for directions. When he asks her where she wants to go, she doesn't know. "Then," he said, "it doesn't much matter which road you take."
We know which road we want to take. It is the road to Happiness.
It may be steep and long, but it is worth it.
It would be well with us if we planned our journey.
May we, by the grace of God, have success.
I heard recently this definition of a goal: to think about an ideal, about life as you want it to be.
What would your ideal life be? What would it look like? What kind of person would you be in that life?
When we have a vision of what we would like to happen, of what we would like it to look like, then we can better plan the steps that will bring us closer to that ideal.
Ideals are stars to steer by, not sticks to beat ourselves with.
Often the gap between the ideal and where we are is filled with discouragement, guilt, hopelessness, unhappiness. But a proper attitude towards the ideal should motivate us, and help us to see our way more clearly.
Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, or what’s a heaven for? (Robert Browning)
Without vision, we may find ourselves jumping, but only in one place.
We may not reach a goal we make, but the very setting of it improves our focus and efforts to try.
We aim above the mark to hit the mark.
Improving ourselves is really not an optional choice; if we are not improving we are probably, like water, taking the path of least resistance, the path of the natural man.
You are what you do--not what you want to do, or intend to do, or wish you could do, but you actually do do." (Paul Dunn)
If I remember the story right, Alice asks the Cheshire Cat for directions. When he asks her where she wants to go, she doesn't know. "Then," he said, "it doesn't much matter which road you take."
We know which road we want to take. It is the road to Happiness.
It may be steep and long, but it is worth it.
It would be well with us if we planned our journey.
May we, by the grace of God, have success.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Testimony of a Friend
As I’ve thought about this past year, my heart is full of gratitude for the times and the ways I have felt the Spirit of the Lord in my life.
I remember a time some years ago that I consider to be the lowest point in my life. It was a time I felt very alone, like I had no where to turn, when there was no arm of flesh upon which I could rely. In the depths of that experience I learned that I did have a true friend, and it was the Savior. I knew that He truly knew me, that He understood, and that He would succor me. And I knew from that day on that no matter what happened to me in life, I would always have a friend in Jesus.
Well, things have happened in my life, and I’ve reflected on the times and ways that I have felt His friendship.
It is a wondrous thing to have a God who can read our very thoughts, who can discern the desires of our hearts, and who responds to them in particular and tender ways.
I am grateful for the times in my life that I have felt His arms around me, for the times that I have wept at His feet, for the times that He has come to my rescue and saved me, and for the times that I have opened the door to find Him just right there. I have learned that He is always just right there, though most of the time we don’t know it. But we can know it.
From the beginning of time, when He stood up for us in the Grand Council in Heaven, and for ever after He is our Advocate at the Judgment Bar, He has always been and will always be our very best Friend.
It is good to remember that we can be His friend too, as we seek fellowship with Him, as we value all he does for us, as we follow in His footsteps, as we help Him in His great work of salvation.
I have no words to thank Him for His tender mercies, only to testify of Him, of a true and living God who is nearer than we know and always our truest friend, for I have heard His voice, I have felt His touch, I have experienced the power of His love in my life.
Of this I testify. Of this I know.
I remember a time some years ago that I consider to be the lowest point in my life. It was a time I felt very alone, like I had no where to turn, when there was no arm of flesh upon which I could rely. In the depths of that experience I learned that I did have a true friend, and it was the Savior. I knew that He truly knew me, that He understood, and that He would succor me. And I knew from that day on that no matter what happened to me in life, I would always have a friend in Jesus.
Well, things have happened in my life, and I’ve reflected on the times and ways that I have felt His friendship.
It is a wondrous thing to have a God who can read our very thoughts, who can discern the desires of our hearts, and who responds to them in particular and tender ways.
I am grateful for the times in my life that I have felt His arms around me, for the times that I have wept at His feet, for the times that He has come to my rescue and saved me, and for the times that I have opened the door to find Him just right there. I have learned that He is always just right there, though most of the time we don’t know it. But we can know it.
From the beginning of time, when He stood up for us in the Grand Council in Heaven, and for ever after He is our Advocate at the Judgment Bar, He has always been and will always be our very best Friend.
It is good to remember that we can be His friend too, as we seek fellowship with Him, as we value all he does for us, as we follow in His footsteps, as we help Him in His great work of salvation.
I have no words to thank Him for His tender mercies, only to testify of Him, of a true and living God who is nearer than we know and always our truest friend, for I have heard His voice, I have felt His touch, I have experienced the power of His love in my life.
Of this I testify. Of this I know.
Sunday, January 04, 2009
New Beginnings
Life is full of new beginnings.
The start of a new year is one of the most marked.
Not one for setting goals, yet I feel a sense of wanting to get back on track, of renewing old commitments, of trying to do better.
Every season can be a new beginning, every turning of a calendar page, every start of a school year. We begin anew when we move to a new house, have a new baby, start a new job, make a new friend.
But the one that matters most happens with the rising of the sun each morning. Maybe we can’t sustain a goal for a year, but we can try again each day.
After the dark of night dawns a bright new day, full of new starts and new beginnings. Whatever we do wrong or fail to do today does not need to wake with us on the morrow.
Every day –
A chance to repent,
A chance to try again,
A chance to renew ourselves.
Praise be to God for the dawn!
The start of a new year is one of the most marked.
Not one for setting goals, yet I feel a sense of wanting to get back on track, of renewing old commitments, of trying to do better.
Every season can be a new beginning, every turning of a calendar page, every start of a school year. We begin anew when we move to a new house, have a new baby, start a new job, make a new friend.
But the one that matters most happens with the rising of the sun each morning. Maybe we can’t sustain a goal for a year, but we can try again each day.
After the dark of night dawns a bright new day, full of new starts and new beginnings. Whatever we do wrong or fail to do today does not need to wake with us on the morrow.
Every day –
A chance to repent,
A chance to try again,
A chance to renew ourselves.
Praise be to God for the dawn!
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
The Last of my 60 Snapshots from my Childhood
51. The backdrop of my childhood is the view of the lake from the large picture windows of the three-story white brick house I grew up in. Minor changes came with the seasons: small boats of fishermen in the spring, motorboats and water-skiers in the summer, changing colors amid the evergreens in the fall, and in winter the lake had been known to freeze over so you could walk to the middle. Lilypads, baby ducks, blue herons, Canadian geese, mudhens, otters and the red dock all were part of that view.
52. The long driveway to our house began at the white brick wall. The paved, curbed driveway ran parallel to the creek, and you would pass the “flower”, double cement ponds with a small stone bridge, and a large glass greenhouse. The driveway rose and then dropped down into a figure 8, with a rock pond full of pollywogs in the middle. We played traffic for hours, riding our bikes up and down the driveway, around the circle eight and around the flower-shaped brick garden. It was a great yard for evening games of kick ball or kick-the-can, tag and hide and seek. The long sloping lawn from the house to the lake gave us lots of room for somersaults in summer and snow angels in winter, Red Rover, family pictures, watching the stars, and just plain running and running and running. Mother mowed that lawn for years with a hand mower, the only time she donned shorts.
53. And we had bridges. At the mouth of the creek was a little stone bridge that went to the neighbor’s yard, which got us into trouble if we went into their yard too often. Farther down the creek was a very high log bridge. We weren’t supposed to go on it, but it was a good shortcut to the bus stop, or to visit the gardener with his handicapped daughter or the nice lady who lived in the log cabins on the other side. The fish hatchery installed a green contraption across the creek to control the fish in the lake.
54. My playground included tall cedars, a favorite dogwood tree, a Hawthorne tree, a cherry blossom and a holly tree. We had a couple of trees that were really just huge shrubs that we played in so much we killed them. Laurel hedges ran the full length of our property and the leaves made great pretend money. I loved the rhododendrons, the rose garden, the sweet peas and pansies, the azalea tree at our back door, and the parsley that grew by the kitchen door.
55. I remember black and white television, with a test pattern when it went off the air late at night. Romper Room, Ding Dong School, Howdy Doody, Mickey Mouse Club with cute Annette, Lassie, Leave It to Beaver, Donna Reed Show, Queen for a Day, The Millionaire, Ozzie and Harriet, Dragnet, American Bandstand, Lawrence Welk, and westerns were some of the things we watched. I remember the day we got our first color television. We were the first among our friends. Sunday nights we put our hair in rollers in front of Ben Casey, Dr. Kildare, and the Wonderful World of Disney.
56. Having shared a bed with Sue and Kaye, and then a room with them for most of my childhood, I was glad when my brother moved out and I got the dark, musty little room in the basement. I loved the quiet and to be alone, and spent many spent hours in my little cave. I listened to The Kingston Trio, The 3 D’s and Theodore Bikel while I worked on projects, like paint by number kits.
57. When the addition to the basement was complete with its larger laundry room, and two large recreation rooms, I got the one bedroom that was created. It was new and smelled like wood, even if it was buggy. I couldn’t ever get warm enough in that cold climate, so I would run a space heater so hot my mother thought I might burn up all the oxygen and kill myself.
58. I thought if I ever woke up with a spider on my pillow, I would die. But I did, and I didn’t. It happened in my new room. Another time, I was going to bed one night when I saw a big spider behind me and a large cricket in front of me. I managed to get a can of Raid and empty it out on these helpless creatures, but they didn’t seem to die. After a very long time I dashed past them and went to bed, but it was a while before I could go to sleep though it was very late.
59. Pat’s parties. There was a second house on our property we called The Little House. Off and on an assortment of people lived in it. It was vacant when Pat had a big Valentines party there. It was all decorated with crepe paper and I got to watch the fun while they played Spin the Bottle. Pat had another big party, this one in the large bedroom upstairs that was the size of three bedrooms. Everything was cleared out for all the food, decorations and dancing. Those were magical times.
60. For my last snapshot, I don’t know whether to write about roasting marshmallows in our outdoor stone fireplace and presto logs in our indoor fireplace, playing hopscotch and jump ball on the front patio, tetherball behind the garage, the birds’ nests and archway on the path along the creek, going under the tunnel under the road, hearing the little local train across the road, playing Mother May I on our stairs, fencing in the upstairs bedroom, the fruit room in the basement, listening to The Platters on our new stereo in our new basement, getting my own desk for Christmas, or a thousand other memories of growing up in such an enchanted place. I have been ever grateful for my father buying that place, for my angel mother for making it Heaven on earth, and for my brothers and sisters for making it so much darn fun!
52. The long driveway to our house began at the white brick wall. The paved, curbed driveway ran parallel to the creek, and you would pass the “flower”, double cement ponds with a small stone bridge, and a large glass greenhouse. The driveway rose and then dropped down into a figure 8, with a rock pond full of pollywogs in the middle. We played traffic for hours, riding our bikes up and down the driveway, around the circle eight and around the flower-shaped brick garden. It was a great yard for evening games of kick ball or kick-the-can, tag and hide and seek. The long sloping lawn from the house to the lake gave us lots of room for somersaults in summer and snow angels in winter, Red Rover, family pictures, watching the stars, and just plain running and running and running. Mother mowed that lawn for years with a hand mower, the only time she donned shorts.
53. And we had bridges. At the mouth of the creek was a little stone bridge that went to the neighbor’s yard, which got us into trouble if we went into their yard too often. Farther down the creek was a very high log bridge. We weren’t supposed to go on it, but it was a good shortcut to the bus stop, or to visit the gardener with his handicapped daughter or the nice lady who lived in the log cabins on the other side. The fish hatchery installed a green contraption across the creek to control the fish in the lake.
54. My playground included tall cedars, a favorite dogwood tree, a Hawthorne tree, a cherry blossom and a holly tree. We had a couple of trees that were really just huge shrubs that we played in so much we killed them. Laurel hedges ran the full length of our property and the leaves made great pretend money. I loved the rhododendrons, the rose garden, the sweet peas and pansies, the azalea tree at our back door, and the parsley that grew by the kitchen door.
55. I remember black and white television, with a test pattern when it went off the air late at night. Romper Room, Ding Dong School, Howdy Doody, Mickey Mouse Club with cute Annette, Lassie, Leave It to Beaver, Donna Reed Show, Queen for a Day, The Millionaire, Ozzie and Harriet, Dragnet, American Bandstand, Lawrence Welk, and westerns were some of the things we watched. I remember the day we got our first color television. We were the first among our friends. Sunday nights we put our hair in rollers in front of Ben Casey, Dr. Kildare, and the Wonderful World of Disney.
56. Having shared a bed with Sue and Kaye, and then a room with them for most of my childhood, I was glad when my brother moved out and I got the dark, musty little room in the basement. I loved the quiet and to be alone, and spent many spent hours in my little cave. I listened to The Kingston Trio, The 3 D’s and Theodore Bikel while I worked on projects, like paint by number kits.
57. When the addition to the basement was complete with its larger laundry room, and two large recreation rooms, I got the one bedroom that was created. It was new and smelled like wood, even if it was buggy. I couldn’t ever get warm enough in that cold climate, so I would run a space heater so hot my mother thought I might burn up all the oxygen and kill myself.
58. I thought if I ever woke up with a spider on my pillow, I would die. But I did, and I didn’t. It happened in my new room. Another time, I was going to bed one night when I saw a big spider behind me and a large cricket in front of me. I managed to get a can of Raid and empty it out on these helpless creatures, but they didn’t seem to die. After a very long time I dashed past them and went to bed, but it was a while before I could go to sleep though it was very late.
59. Pat’s parties. There was a second house on our property we called The Little House. Off and on an assortment of people lived in it. It was vacant when Pat had a big Valentines party there. It was all decorated with crepe paper and I got to watch the fun while they played Spin the Bottle. Pat had another big party, this one in the large bedroom upstairs that was the size of three bedrooms. Everything was cleared out for all the food, decorations and dancing. Those were magical times.
60. For my last snapshot, I don’t know whether to write about roasting marshmallows in our outdoor stone fireplace and presto logs in our indoor fireplace, playing hopscotch and jump ball on the front patio, tetherball behind the garage, the birds’ nests and archway on the path along the creek, going under the tunnel under the road, hearing the little local train across the road, playing Mother May I on our stairs, fencing in the upstairs bedroom, the fruit room in the basement, listening to The Platters on our new stereo in our new basement, getting my own desk for Christmas, or a thousand other memories of growing up in such an enchanted place. I have been ever grateful for my father buying that place, for my angel mother for making it Heaven on earth, and for my brothers and sisters for making it so much darn fun!
Monday, December 08, 2008
60 Snapshots of my Childhood #41-50
41. I don’t know why, but I was the only one who school-hopped my first few years of grade school. I went to Washington for first grade, Chico for second grade, then I joined my siblings at Marion in third grade. Another girl and I were at the top of the class that year. That was fun. She was moved ahead to the next grade, but I wasn’t. I didn’t really mind, though I missed her friendship. Somehow I knew it was best.
42. Every summer growing up we took a family vacation. Most of the time my mother drove with eight small children and without Dad, with no disposable diapers or other modern conveniences. Once every few years we would go to California and Disneyland, but most often we headed for Utah. In the days before freeways, air conditioning and seatbelts, we would lay every direction in the station wagon, our feet and arms hanging out the windows. We would read or sing, sleep or play travel bingo or other games. Even with the Burma Shave signs the trips seemed interminable as we counted mile markers to each town.
43. Many summers we stayed at my Uncle Carmi’s farm in Tremonton, Utah, which was pure delight for us city children. I loved their little farm house, the sights and smells of the farm, the summer lightening storms. I have memories of milking cows and drinking their warm milk, playing in the hay in the loft, my uncle holding me in his lap and letting me drive the tractor (not very well), getting food from the underground fruit cellar, and playing endless games on the farm. We loved the old pump organ that was stashed in the barn. All my life I have been grateful for my experiences on the farm, and with my salt-of-the-earth aunt and uncle.
44. Every two or three years my paternal grandparents, Wilford and Josephine Spilsbury Bramwell, held a 3-day family reunion in Utah. One day was spent at Lagoon where we swam and rode rides all day. I loved the fun house! They always had a catered lunch and a program. Another day we dressed up for a nice restaurant dinner and went to Liberty Park for pictures. The third day we went to Ogden canyon to fish at a hatchery, picnic and play ball. I grew up knowing all my 60 or so relatives on my Dad’s side.
45. Sometimes for our Bramwell reunions we stayed in adjoining rooms at Scotty’s Motel on west North Temple. It had a deep swimming pool and a kiddie pool, with a tall water slide between them (for looks only) and life-size characters from Snow White. One day when I was still little, I wondered if I could touch the bottom of the deep end. I climbed down the ladder near the diving board and propelled myself to the bottom. I touched! But when I tried to come up it was much farther, and though I thrashed and paddled, I couldn’t find the surface. I was just beginning to panic when my older brother saw me and yelled at someone to grab me. I think it was Jane who pulled me to the top so I could breathe. I was very grateful to be saved from my stupidity, and humbly returned to the kiddie pool.
46. My baby sister Rhonda was born at Harrison Memorial Hospital, just down the street from Marion Elementary. One day we were allowed to run down to the hospital during school hours and talk to my mother from outdoors though the window. We were so excited for a new baby sister, and adored her.
47. My senior year in high school somehow I was elected president of the Chamber of Commerce, which put me in charge of Homecoming. On the night they crowned the homecoming queen, a teacher and I were the only ones who knew who it was. The lights were turned down, and then I handed bouquets to the escorts, who in turn would give them to their date when the lights went up, the red one identifying the queen. It was fun to be part of that, and to be a “mother-hen” to the most popular girls in school who were on the court. The new queen was Robin, a girl who had just joined the Church -- not pretty like the others, but the friendliest girl in school. Sometimes there’s justice – even in high school.
48. Every summer my father’s receptionist took a month’s vacation from his doctor’s office, and my sisters and I took our turns working in her place. It was my first job experience, and I learned a lot about my dad. One day, the summer after I graduated from high school, a patient came in that I knew. It was one of the most, if not the most, popular girl in my high school. She was pregnant. I don’t know how, but I managed to show her to the examining room. Then my father asked me if I had prepped her for her exam. “Dad, I just can’t!!!”, I pleaded. He understood and I didn’t have to. I’ll never forget how awkward it all was, how sorry I was for her, and how glad I was that I had the gospel. That was much better than being popular any day!
49. It was always interesting riding in the car with my father. Sometimes we’d go with him to the hospital, or on house calls, clam digging at the ocean, or to High Council speaking assignments (from Forks to Olympia) when he’d asked us to speak to use up some of his allotted time. He drove some interesting cars in his lifetime, including a little round lime-green Borgwaard. He loved a convertible, and would put the top down anytime it wasn’t raining, no matter how cold and miserable we were. It was always an adventure riding with him because he didn’t keep his eyes on the road much. He could always spot animals in the trees, identify flora and fauna on the side of the road, and loved to look at the scenery. He took different routes on the way home from work each day so he could look at people’s yards and gardens. It’s a mystery how he stayed on the road at all. He also liked to “straighten out the curves” on freeways and freely wove from lane to lane. Did my mother know the danger we were in? or what an education we were getting?
50. The most interesting thing about my Dad’s cars was the trunk. It was always full. Most days he fed his high energy with soda pop. He bought cases of it in glass bottles, mostly Pepsi, directly from the local bottling company. He always had plenty to hand out to others. If he found a Church book he liked, he’d buy a case and keep it in his trunk, to give to people he saw. At Christmas time he filled his trunk with game, usually frozen pheasants bought at a local farm. Then whoever was old enough to drive or help would load the family trunk and deliver them to friends, patients, doctors and pharmacists around town. My dad was known as a generous man for several reasons; much of that generosity came out of the trunk of his car.
42. Every summer growing up we took a family vacation. Most of the time my mother drove with eight small children and without Dad, with no disposable diapers or other modern conveniences. Once every few years we would go to California and Disneyland, but most often we headed for Utah. In the days before freeways, air conditioning and seatbelts, we would lay every direction in the station wagon, our feet and arms hanging out the windows. We would read or sing, sleep or play travel bingo or other games. Even with the Burma Shave signs the trips seemed interminable as we counted mile markers to each town.
43. Many summers we stayed at my Uncle Carmi’s farm in Tremonton, Utah, which was pure delight for us city children. I loved their little farm house, the sights and smells of the farm, the summer lightening storms. I have memories of milking cows and drinking their warm milk, playing in the hay in the loft, my uncle holding me in his lap and letting me drive the tractor (not very well), getting food from the underground fruit cellar, and playing endless games on the farm. We loved the old pump organ that was stashed in the barn. All my life I have been grateful for my experiences on the farm, and with my salt-of-the-earth aunt and uncle.
44. Every two or three years my paternal grandparents, Wilford and Josephine Spilsbury Bramwell, held a 3-day family reunion in Utah. One day was spent at Lagoon where we swam and rode rides all day. I loved the fun house! They always had a catered lunch and a program. Another day we dressed up for a nice restaurant dinner and went to Liberty Park for pictures. The third day we went to Ogden canyon to fish at a hatchery, picnic and play ball. I grew up knowing all my 60 or so relatives on my Dad’s side.
45. Sometimes for our Bramwell reunions we stayed in adjoining rooms at Scotty’s Motel on west North Temple. It had a deep swimming pool and a kiddie pool, with a tall water slide between them (for looks only) and life-size characters from Snow White. One day when I was still little, I wondered if I could touch the bottom of the deep end. I climbed down the ladder near the diving board and propelled myself to the bottom. I touched! But when I tried to come up it was much farther, and though I thrashed and paddled, I couldn’t find the surface. I was just beginning to panic when my older brother saw me and yelled at someone to grab me. I think it was Jane who pulled me to the top so I could breathe. I was very grateful to be saved from my stupidity, and humbly returned to the kiddie pool.
46. My baby sister Rhonda was born at Harrison Memorial Hospital, just down the street from Marion Elementary. One day we were allowed to run down to the hospital during school hours and talk to my mother from outdoors though the window. We were so excited for a new baby sister, and adored her.
47. My senior year in high school somehow I was elected president of the Chamber of Commerce, which put me in charge of Homecoming. On the night they crowned the homecoming queen, a teacher and I were the only ones who knew who it was. The lights were turned down, and then I handed bouquets to the escorts, who in turn would give them to their date when the lights went up, the red one identifying the queen. It was fun to be part of that, and to be a “mother-hen” to the most popular girls in school who were on the court. The new queen was Robin, a girl who had just joined the Church -- not pretty like the others, but the friendliest girl in school. Sometimes there’s justice – even in high school.
48. Every summer my father’s receptionist took a month’s vacation from his doctor’s office, and my sisters and I took our turns working in her place. It was my first job experience, and I learned a lot about my dad. One day, the summer after I graduated from high school, a patient came in that I knew. It was one of the most, if not the most, popular girl in my high school. She was pregnant. I don’t know how, but I managed to show her to the examining room. Then my father asked me if I had prepped her for her exam. “Dad, I just can’t!!!”, I pleaded. He understood and I didn’t have to. I’ll never forget how awkward it all was, how sorry I was for her, and how glad I was that I had the gospel. That was much better than being popular any day!
49. It was always interesting riding in the car with my father. Sometimes we’d go with him to the hospital, or on house calls, clam digging at the ocean, or to High Council speaking assignments (from Forks to Olympia) when he’d asked us to speak to use up some of his allotted time. He drove some interesting cars in his lifetime, including a little round lime-green Borgwaard. He loved a convertible, and would put the top down anytime it wasn’t raining, no matter how cold and miserable we were. It was always an adventure riding with him because he didn’t keep his eyes on the road much. He could always spot animals in the trees, identify flora and fauna on the side of the road, and loved to look at the scenery. He took different routes on the way home from work each day so he could look at people’s yards and gardens. It’s a mystery how he stayed on the road at all. He also liked to “straighten out the curves” on freeways and freely wove from lane to lane. Did my mother know the danger we were in? or what an education we were getting?
50. The most interesting thing about my Dad’s cars was the trunk. It was always full. Most days he fed his high energy with soda pop. He bought cases of it in glass bottles, mostly Pepsi, directly from the local bottling company. He always had plenty to hand out to others. If he found a Church book he liked, he’d buy a case and keep it in his trunk, to give to people he saw. At Christmas time he filled his trunk with game, usually frozen pheasants bought at a local farm. Then whoever was old enough to drive or help would load the family trunk and deliver them to friends, patients, doctors and pharmacists around town. My dad was known as a generous man for several reasons; much of that generosity came out of the trunk of his car.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
60 Snapshots of my Childhood #31-40
31. When we were small my mother had an old ironer where she sat and ironed all our clothes. I haven’t seen one like it since I was little. She often dressed us in little Buster Brown knit clothes, and even ironed them. We loved to run around the basement while she ironed. I remember a wringer washer too, though it was rarely used.
32. In the summers we were allowed to stay up and watch old black and white movies on TV. Somehow we got the idea that whoever stayed up the latest won. We stayed up even after the stations all went off the air and only the test pattern showed. When I got older I secretly tried to stay up later than my oldest sister Pat who was 3 years older. Gee, wonder why I’m such a night owl.
33. Our clocks were always set 10 minutes fast to help us get places on time. It didn’t work. We all knew they were fast. With 8 children, and most of them primping girls, we just never got anywhere on time. Gee, wonder why I’m still running late.
34. Birthdays were usually family affairs, rarely a party with friends, especially for us younger kids. One year I was really surprised when I was eating breakfast in my pajamas and my mother walked in with my friends for a surprise birthday party for me! I think it was my 8th birthday. I got fins for my birthday that year and I wore them swimming all day - for hours. When I got out of the water I found I had worn them too tightly and they had worn the skin away on my ankles. I had big wet scabs for weeks, and still have the scars to show for it.
35. My busy mother usually bought a bakery cake for birthdays, and told me later that she always felt guilty that she didn’t make them herself. When I raised my own children, I couldn’t afford bakery cakes and always felt guilty that they had to have home-made, even though I decorated some pretty cute ones over the years. To this day I still love bakery cake .
36. I learned to ride a bike while my parents were away on a trip (Nassau or Hawaii). I did it all alone, and hurt myself a little when I couldn’t stop and went over the cement curb into a shrub by the garage. I had to wait forever while they unpacked all their souvenirs before they would come see what I had learned.
37. I spent many hours in our front room pitching wiffle balls to my older brother who was the captain of the high school baseball team (and football and basketball). I was the one he preferred to do that, and my mother let us even though we had two large picture windows in that room. I got to be a pretty fair pitcher.
38. My father had a small plane and I loved to go anywhere anytime with him in it, even though I usually ended up wetting myself or getting sick. We went to parades in Portland, rodeos in Pendleton, dog shows in Canada, and lots of interesting places. It was always amazing to me to fly high above the earth and through the clouds. It always gave me a new perspective.
39. My little brother John never water-skied with the rest of us. One cool, cloudy day when no one else was home, John asked me if I would drive for him. I did a lot of the driving for skiers. I was surprised, but he was persistent, so I took him out. He fell a lot, but with every fall he got noticeably better. In a very short time he was skiing, on one ski even, almost as good as anyone else. It was a very cool thing to see. I realized that he didn’t want to learn in front of everyone else, and took advantage of the privacy of that day.
40. My memory of my own experience learning to water ski always fills my heart with gratitude. I was taught, not by my own family, but by friends of ours that were using our dock. I was having a lot of trouble getting up. We tried and tried for what seemed like hours. I had been around the whole 2-mile lake trying. I wanted to give up; I didn’t think I could ever get it. But the kind lady, Muriel, would not let me give up. I’m sure the male driver was dying. Finally, finally I made it up. How happy and relieved we ALL were! And I rarely had trouble ever again; I just needed to feel once what it felt like to get up. But I never learned to ski on one ski; I always liked the security of two feet on the water.
32. In the summers we were allowed to stay up and watch old black and white movies on TV. Somehow we got the idea that whoever stayed up the latest won. We stayed up even after the stations all went off the air and only the test pattern showed. When I got older I secretly tried to stay up later than my oldest sister Pat who was 3 years older. Gee, wonder why I’m such a night owl.
33. Our clocks were always set 10 minutes fast to help us get places on time. It didn’t work. We all knew they were fast. With 8 children, and most of them primping girls, we just never got anywhere on time. Gee, wonder why I’m still running late.
34. Birthdays were usually family affairs, rarely a party with friends, especially for us younger kids. One year I was really surprised when I was eating breakfast in my pajamas and my mother walked in with my friends for a surprise birthday party for me! I think it was my 8th birthday. I got fins for my birthday that year and I wore them swimming all day - for hours. When I got out of the water I found I had worn them too tightly and they had worn the skin away on my ankles. I had big wet scabs for weeks, and still have the scars to show for it.
35. My busy mother usually bought a bakery cake for birthdays, and told me later that she always felt guilty that she didn’t make them herself. When I raised my own children, I couldn’t afford bakery cakes and always felt guilty that they had to have home-made, even though I decorated some pretty cute ones over the years. To this day I still love bakery cake .
36. I learned to ride a bike while my parents were away on a trip (Nassau or Hawaii). I did it all alone, and hurt myself a little when I couldn’t stop and went over the cement curb into a shrub by the garage. I had to wait forever while they unpacked all their souvenirs before they would come see what I had learned.
37. I spent many hours in our front room pitching wiffle balls to my older brother who was the captain of the high school baseball team (and football and basketball). I was the one he preferred to do that, and my mother let us even though we had two large picture windows in that room. I got to be a pretty fair pitcher.
38. My father had a small plane and I loved to go anywhere anytime with him in it, even though I usually ended up wetting myself or getting sick. We went to parades in Portland, rodeos in Pendleton, dog shows in Canada, and lots of interesting places. It was always amazing to me to fly high above the earth and through the clouds. It always gave me a new perspective.
39. My little brother John never water-skied with the rest of us. One cool, cloudy day when no one else was home, John asked me if I would drive for him. I did a lot of the driving for skiers. I was surprised, but he was persistent, so I took him out. He fell a lot, but with every fall he got noticeably better. In a very short time he was skiing, on one ski even, almost as good as anyone else. It was a very cool thing to see. I realized that he didn’t want to learn in front of everyone else, and took advantage of the privacy of that day.
40. My memory of my own experience learning to water ski always fills my heart with gratitude. I was taught, not by my own family, but by friends of ours that were using our dock. I was having a lot of trouble getting up. We tried and tried for what seemed like hours. I had been around the whole 2-mile lake trying. I wanted to give up; I didn’t think I could ever get it. But the kind lady, Muriel, would not let me give up. I’m sure the male driver was dying. Finally, finally I made it up. How happy and relieved we ALL were! And I rarely had trouble ever again; I just needed to feel once what it felt like to get up. But I never learned to ski on one ski; I always liked the security of two feet on the water.
Friday, August 22, 2008
The Queen of Everything
The Queen of Everything is a character drawn by the artist Mary Engelbreit. You can find her image on t-shirts, mugs, calendars, stationery, and more.
There’s another place I think it should be etched:
in our hearts and minds.
One of the drawings of The Queen of Everything shows her with one hand raised high and in her other hand is a scroll with all her demands on it, so long that it falls to the floor and keeps on rolling. The caption reads, "The Queen Has Spoken!" That is not the kind of queen I’m talking about.
We are all daughters of a Heavenly King, and in His Celestial Kingdom, any girl can qualify to become a queen:
You shall inherit thrones, kingdoms, principalities and powers, dominions, all heights and depths—
you shall pass by the angels, to your exaltation and glory in all things.
Then shall you be above all, because all things are subject unto you. (D&C 132)
Doesn’t that sound like a Queen of Everything?
This is the promise given to those who enter into the New and Everlasting covenant, which includes all the laws and ordinances of the gospel.
The King of Heaven has taught, trained and tutored His daughters to this end.
The Prince of Peace has paid and paved The Way.
The only thing we need to do is to come to the Throne of God with credentials, proof of covenants made and kept, to enter into the Kingdom of Heaven and to be a Queen of Everything.
If you don’t, then you may be a Princess of Quite a Lot --
or a Prince of What’s Leftover.
But that’s never as good as being queen.
After all, “It’s Good to be Queen.”
Very good.
There’s another place I think it should be etched:
in our hearts and minds.
One of the drawings of The Queen of Everything shows her with one hand raised high and in her other hand is a scroll with all her demands on it, so long that it falls to the floor and keeps on rolling. The caption reads, "The Queen Has Spoken!" That is not the kind of queen I’m talking about.
We are all daughters of a Heavenly King, and in His Celestial Kingdom, any girl can qualify to become a queen:
You shall inherit thrones, kingdoms, principalities and powers, dominions, all heights and depths—
you shall pass by the angels, to your exaltation and glory in all things.
Then shall you be above all, because all things are subject unto you. (D&C 132)
Doesn’t that sound like a Queen of Everything?
This is the promise given to those who enter into the New and Everlasting covenant, which includes all the laws and ordinances of the gospel.
The King of Heaven has taught, trained and tutored His daughters to this end.
The Prince of Peace has paid and paved The Way.
The only thing we need to do is to come to the Throne of God with credentials, proof of covenants made and kept, to enter into the Kingdom of Heaven and to be a Queen of Everything.
If you don’t, then you may be a Princess of Quite a Lot --
or a Prince of What’s Leftover.
But that’s never as good as being queen.
After all, “It’s Good to be Queen.”
Very good.
(Trademarks of Mary Engelbreit)
Sunday, August 10, 2008
10 more of my 60 snapshots
21. One day in a youth Sunday School class we were learning about someone who didn’t believe in the gospel. I remember wondering out loud, “How can anyone not believe the Church is true?” A wise Sister Haneberg said, You say that now, but you just wait a couple of years and you too will start to have your doubts.
“Not me,” I thought.” I’ll never doubt it.”
Well, she was right. As I entered my teens I began to have questions about the Church. At first I was shocked that I would have doubts. Then I remembered what she said, and figured it must be normal to question what you had been taught.
I knew some people who sat in their box of “I don’t know” and I didn’t want to do that. So I made it a life’s quest to find the answers to the questions I had. It has been a very interesting journey, and truth has withstood any test I’ve given it.
22. My mother was a busy lady, so we got used to waiting for hours for her to pick us up, and sometimes forgetting about us altogether. One time she forgot I had a roller skating party after school. It was a Mutual night, so after waiting for hours I decided to walk home. It was pouring down heavy Northwest rain the whole way. I had a double-stack of heavy school books. The walk was probably about 5 miles, and, yes, much of it was uphill. I remember talking to myself the whole way home, going through the different stages of anger and forgiveness, misery and enjoyment, as I soaked through. My mother spotted me on a quick run to the grocery about half a mile from home. She felt so badly. She put me right into a hot tub, and nursed me the rest of the night. Then I felt badly for her.
23. We drove to Utah most summers (before freeways) and at one time had a black Kaiser, a regular sedan. Mom drove with 8 kids crawling all over the car, and no disposable diapers. One time the roof of the car caved in. And at least once all our clothes that had been strapped to the top of the car came loose and flew all over the highway.
24. In the “old days,” we bought marshmallows in a box, 12 to a box, with tissue paper and a very fine powdered coating. They were a nice confection, not the air-filled tasteless marshmallows of today. I snitched in them whenever I could. One Christmas I found a box, my very own box, in my stocking. That day I knew my mother really loved me.
25. My dad decided to enlarge the basement. Because we were little, he had us crawl under the house into the crawlspace to dig out dirt until he could fit in. It was very dirty, dark and spidery, and hard work. We would never say the word hell, or probably even think it, but it was not a fun place. Dad broke his finger one day pushing the wheelbarrow through the narrow cement opening that had been the little door, but continued to work into the night. It was hard to complain after we saw what he was willing to do.
26. We had a little red battery-run car for the kids to drive around the driveway. It had a “gas” pedal and brakes, a horn, lights, and really drove like a car. It was open, no top, and made of steel, not a plastic toy like today.
27. To give my mom a break from cooking, we often went out to dinner after morning church on Sunday. Most often we went to the back of Olberg’s Drug Store. I thought it was really fancy at the time, but realized later that it was just the back of a drug store. Dad never came, so I don’t know how much of a break it was for my mother to handle 8 very active kids in a restaurant. But those open-faced hot roast beef sandwiches sure seemed fancy.
28. I took a liking to cooking early in my life, and was often in the kitchen watching my mother, or watching cooking shows on television. For a while, my specialty was Puffed Omelet. It’s an omelet with beaten egg whites folded into the yolks to make it puffy, and we had a special pan that folded it in half. I made them every day after school.
29. All of us girls took dancing lessons. We took tap, ballet, and tumbling until high school. I think I was just getting into toe shoes when we gave it up, and I didn’t take tumbling long enough to learn flips with no hands. My mother made our costumes for our annual recitals. My favorite was my Little Red Riding Hood costume, with a tutu as always. My favorite ballet was to Waltz of the Flowers.
30. When I was still in grade school my mother let me go to the movies with a boy named John. She dropped me off at the theater and I think another couple joined us. After the movie we went down the street to a diner and had chili. I didn’t think of it as a date until I was there, and the boy was really, really nice (and tall), but I don’t know what my mother was thinking! I didn’t do that again for many years.
“Not me,” I thought.” I’ll never doubt it.”
Well, she was right. As I entered my teens I began to have questions about the Church. At first I was shocked that I would have doubts. Then I remembered what she said, and figured it must be normal to question what you had been taught.
I knew some people who sat in their box of “I don’t know” and I didn’t want to do that. So I made it a life’s quest to find the answers to the questions I had. It has been a very interesting journey, and truth has withstood any test I’ve given it.
22. My mother was a busy lady, so we got used to waiting for hours for her to pick us up, and sometimes forgetting about us altogether. One time she forgot I had a roller skating party after school. It was a Mutual night, so after waiting for hours I decided to walk home. It was pouring down heavy Northwest rain the whole way. I had a double-stack of heavy school books. The walk was probably about 5 miles, and, yes, much of it was uphill. I remember talking to myself the whole way home, going through the different stages of anger and forgiveness, misery and enjoyment, as I soaked through. My mother spotted me on a quick run to the grocery about half a mile from home. She felt so badly. She put me right into a hot tub, and nursed me the rest of the night. Then I felt badly for her.
23. We drove to Utah most summers (before freeways) and at one time had a black Kaiser, a regular sedan. Mom drove with 8 kids crawling all over the car, and no disposable diapers. One time the roof of the car caved in. And at least once all our clothes that had been strapped to the top of the car came loose and flew all over the highway.
24. In the “old days,” we bought marshmallows in a box, 12 to a box, with tissue paper and a very fine powdered coating. They were a nice confection, not the air-filled tasteless marshmallows of today. I snitched in them whenever I could. One Christmas I found a box, my very own box, in my stocking. That day I knew my mother really loved me.
25. My dad decided to enlarge the basement. Because we were little, he had us crawl under the house into the crawlspace to dig out dirt until he could fit in. It was very dirty, dark and spidery, and hard work. We would never say the word hell, or probably even think it, but it was not a fun place. Dad broke his finger one day pushing the wheelbarrow through the narrow cement opening that had been the little door, but continued to work into the night. It was hard to complain after we saw what he was willing to do.
26. We had a little red battery-run car for the kids to drive around the driveway. It had a “gas” pedal and brakes, a horn, lights, and really drove like a car. It was open, no top, and made of steel, not a plastic toy like today.
27. To give my mom a break from cooking, we often went out to dinner after morning church on Sunday. Most often we went to the back of Olberg’s Drug Store. I thought it was really fancy at the time, but realized later that it was just the back of a drug store. Dad never came, so I don’t know how much of a break it was for my mother to handle 8 very active kids in a restaurant. But those open-faced hot roast beef sandwiches sure seemed fancy.
28. I took a liking to cooking early in my life, and was often in the kitchen watching my mother, or watching cooking shows on television. For a while, my specialty was Puffed Omelet. It’s an omelet with beaten egg whites folded into the yolks to make it puffy, and we had a special pan that folded it in half. I made them every day after school.
29. All of us girls took dancing lessons. We took tap, ballet, and tumbling until high school. I think I was just getting into toe shoes when we gave it up, and I didn’t take tumbling long enough to learn flips with no hands. My mother made our costumes for our annual recitals. My favorite was my Little Red Riding Hood costume, with a tutu as always. My favorite ballet was to Waltz of the Flowers.
30. When I was still in grade school my mother let me go to the movies with a boy named John. She dropped me off at the theater and I think another couple joined us. After the movie we went down the street to a diner and had chili. I didn’t think of it as a date until I was there, and the boy was really, really nice (and tall), but I don’t know what my mother was thinking! I didn’t do that again for many years.
Friday, August 08, 2008
Snapshots from My Life
In honor of my 60th birthday, I decided to record 60 snapshots from my childhood.
I thought it would be hard, but maybe I’ll live to be a hundred since that’s how many I came up with.
I won’t bore you to death with them all, but here’s 20 to start with.
My sisters may rightly dispute the facts, but these are my memories.
1. My earliest memory is standing in the living room looking at my mother in the hall of our small project house. It snapped in my brain like a photograph. It’s the only memory I have of that house.
2. I remember seeing the big white house on Kitsap Lake for the first time. The upstairs rooms were huge, with floor-to-ceiling mirrors, walk-in closets and attics, and even a cool portal window in one of the closets. It was years later that I learned about The Secret Room, where bootleggers hid their wares during Prohibition.
3. In first grade at Washington Elementary, and there was a black boy who was in love with me. He always chased me at recess and wanted to kiss me. One day he cornered me. When everyone else had gone back to class, a teacher intervened to break the stalemate, and insisted I let him kiss me so we could all go back to class. I let him peck me on the cheek.
4. One day in 3rd grade I was standing around my teacher’s desk with some girls while the others were outside at recess. I don’t know what I said, but Mrs. Lumley said, “Georgia, just because your dad is a doctor doesn’t mean you are better than everyone else.” I was instantly horrified, totally repentant, and completely understood her, all at once. I knew she was right, and have never forgotten what she said.
5. When I was in the 5th grade, the small school library in our classroom. I was appointed the school librarian, a job I loved and cherished. I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but if pressed to answer I say I want to be a librarian.
6. I was a middle child and often had to try on hand me downs. Clothes were made of stiff cottons then, and very fitted, so I got stuck many times in dresses that were too small. I hated those try-on sessions. Maybe that’s why I’m claustrophobic.
7. Every Easter my mother would take us to the upper floor of Bremer’s, the local department store owned by Mr. Bremer after whom Bremerton was named, and buy us new Easter outfits. We got the whole deal: dresses, slips, underwear, shoes, socks, coats, gloves and even hats.
8. In the sixth grade Mrs. Baker made me write 100 sentences. You’d think I’d never forget what I did and what I had to write, but I have. It was the only time in my life I was punished so. She said at the time that she knew I hated her then, but that I would thank her for it later. This wise teacher was right on both counts.
9. We had a real jukebox in the big upstairs room. It stood about 5 feet tall and played records. We danced for hours and hours, and put on shows for the family.
10. We had a large stone patio, and we liked to jump off it onto the lawn below. One day I got brave and jumped off the higher ledge, and put my front teeth through my tongue. The gash bled a lot, but you don’t stitch a wet tongue.
11. Our first boat at our house on the lake was a little dinghy. We loved to go out in it and row around the lake. Then we got a white boat that had a little motor on it. That’s the one we weren’t supposed to play on, but we did, and Kaye fell in. I remember the long, hard run up the hill to fetch my mother, seeing Sue sitting on the bow, and Kaye on her back in the water waving her arms like she was swimming.
12. One day we came home from school and there was a BIG box in our driveway. When Dad came home we opened it to find a 16’ motorboat! We always joked that it came in a box. That was the beginning of our waterskiing days on the lake. I did a lot of the driving, and I mean a lot.
13. We were coming home one day and as we started down the driveway, Kaye said, “Look at me” as she stuck her head out an open window. I blinked and she was gone! She had fallen out of the car. Cool trick, Kaye!
14. My sister was driving us to dancing lessons one Saturday morning. I got into the old convertible, leaned against the door, and she took off around the corner of the circular driveway. I hadn’t closed the door tightly, and it flew open and I flew out! I flew a good bit down the cement driveway. I was okay, but I didn’t go to dance that day.
15. Our house had walk-in attics with low ceilings that were very fun. In the largest attic, we spent hours playing business, or we would play school where I taught my little sisters what I had learned. They claim it put them ahead in school.
16. Sue, Kaye and I slept in the big room upstairs, but not much. We kept each other up late most nights playing games. This was very frustrating to my mother. Sometimes she would come and stand in the hall. I would see her and get quiet, then my sisters would eventually get the hint. Or she would come into the room and turn on the light. Sometimes she would make us get up and clean up our messy room. Or she would make us go downstairs and do dishes, which sometimes ended up in another giggling session. Nothing she did ever cured us.
17. We went through a lot of milk with 8 kids. For a while the milkman brought it to our kitchen door twice a week. Sometimes we bought it in 3-gallon glass jugs, one which Kaye broke on the back steps when she was too little to carry it. She still has a scar from the gash she got. At one time we had a milk dispensing machine like restaurants have. It held 2 5-gallon metal containers and we dispensed it through a spout by lifting a handle. I think we had chocolate milk in it too.
18. In the 5th grade I learned to play the clarinet at school. What I really wanted, but never did, was to play the oboe. I had to give up the clarinet in 8th grade because orchestra was first period and I had a constant sore throat.
19. My mother was the ward organist most of our life. She didn’t do it often, but I loved it when she played the piano at home. That’s what made me want to learn to play. I took lessons long enough to learn to read music, but I hated practicing so I quit. But when the piano got moved from the living room to the privacy of a back bedroom, I renewed my interest in learning to play. One summer I played for hours and hours every day until I could play. The first song I learned with two hands was Beautiful Dreamer. I memorized Moon River so I could play it without looking.
20. My dad loved to go clam digging at the beach on the Pacific Ocean. We had to get up in the middle of the night to catch the tides. It was a long and winding ride in the dark. We played under dark gray skies on cold gray beaches while my dad dug for clams. We rode home on winding roads with smelly clams sloshing in the back of the station wagon. I don’t know how we did it on empty stomachs, but someone always threw up. And we always went back again. That Dad wanted to take us is still a wonder to me.
I thought it would be hard, but maybe I’ll live to be a hundred since that’s how many I came up with.
I won’t bore you to death with them all, but here’s 20 to start with.
My sisters may rightly dispute the facts, but these are my memories.
1. My earliest memory is standing in the living room looking at my mother in the hall of our small project house. It snapped in my brain like a photograph. It’s the only memory I have of that house.
2. I remember seeing the big white house on Kitsap Lake for the first time. The upstairs rooms were huge, with floor-to-ceiling mirrors, walk-in closets and attics, and even a cool portal window in one of the closets. It was years later that I learned about The Secret Room, where bootleggers hid their wares during Prohibition.
3. In first grade at Washington Elementary, and there was a black boy who was in love with me. He always chased me at recess and wanted to kiss me. One day he cornered me. When everyone else had gone back to class, a teacher intervened to break the stalemate, and insisted I let him kiss me so we could all go back to class. I let him peck me on the cheek.
4. One day in 3rd grade I was standing around my teacher’s desk with some girls while the others were outside at recess. I don’t know what I said, but Mrs. Lumley said, “Georgia, just because your dad is a doctor doesn’t mean you are better than everyone else.” I was instantly horrified, totally repentant, and completely understood her, all at once. I knew she was right, and have never forgotten what she said.
5. When I was in the 5th grade, the small school library in our classroom. I was appointed the school librarian, a job I loved and cherished. I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but if pressed to answer I say I want to be a librarian.
6. I was a middle child and often had to try on hand me downs. Clothes were made of stiff cottons then, and very fitted, so I got stuck many times in dresses that were too small. I hated those try-on sessions. Maybe that’s why I’m claustrophobic.
7. Every Easter my mother would take us to the upper floor of Bremer’s, the local department store owned by Mr. Bremer after whom Bremerton was named, and buy us new Easter outfits. We got the whole deal: dresses, slips, underwear, shoes, socks, coats, gloves and even hats.
8. In the sixth grade Mrs. Baker made me write 100 sentences. You’d think I’d never forget what I did and what I had to write, but I have. It was the only time in my life I was punished so. She said at the time that she knew I hated her then, but that I would thank her for it later. This wise teacher was right on both counts.
9. We had a real jukebox in the big upstairs room. It stood about 5 feet tall and played records. We danced for hours and hours, and put on shows for the family.
10. We had a large stone patio, and we liked to jump off it onto the lawn below. One day I got brave and jumped off the higher ledge, and put my front teeth through my tongue. The gash bled a lot, but you don’t stitch a wet tongue.
11. Our first boat at our house on the lake was a little dinghy. We loved to go out in it and row around the lake. Then we got a white boat that had a little motor on it. That’s the one we weren’t supposed to play on, but we did, and Kaye fell in. I remember the long, hard run up the hill to fetch my mother, seeing Sue sitting on the bow, and Kaye on her back in the water waving her arms like she was swimming.
12. One day we came home from school and there was a BIG box in our driveway. When Dad came home we opened it to find a 16’ motorboat! We always joked that it came in a box. That was the beginning of our waterskiing days on the lake. I did a lot of the driving, and I mean a lot.
13. We were coming home one day and as we started down the driveway, Kaye said, “Look at me” as she stuck her head out an open window. I blinked and she was gone! She had fallen out of the car. Cool trick, Kaye!
14. My sister was driving us to dancing lessons one Saturday morning. I got into the old convertible, leaned against the door, and she took off around the corner of the circular driveway. I hadn’t closed the door tightly, and it flew open and I flew out! I flew a good bit down the cement driveway. I was okay, but I didn’t go to dance that day.
15. Our house had walk-in attics with low ceilings that were very fun. In the largest attic, we spent hours playing business, or we would play school where I taught my little sisters what I had learned. They claim it put them ahead in school.
16. Sue, Kaye and I slept in the big room upstairs, but not much. We kept each other up late most nights playing games. This was very frustrating to my mother. Sometimes she would come and stand in the hall. I would see her and get quiet, then my sisters would eventually get the hint. Or she would come into the room and turn on the light. Sometimes she would make us get up and clean up our messy room. Or she would make us go downstairs and do dishes, which sometimes ended up in another giggling session. Nothing she did ever cured us.
17. We went through a lot of milk with 8 kids. For a while the milkman brought it to our kitchen door twice a week. Sometimes we bought it in 3-gallon glass jugs, one which Kaye broke on the back steps when she was too little to carry it. She still has a scar from the gash she got. At one time we had a milk dispensing machine like restaurants have. It held 2 5-gallon metal containers and we dispensed it through a spout by lifting a handle. I think we had chocolate milk in it too.
18. In the 5th grade I learned to play the clarinet at school. What I really wanted, but never did, was to play the oboe. I had to give up the clarinet in 8th grade because orchestra was first period and I had a constant sore throat.
19. My mother was the ward organist most of our life. She didn’t do it often, but I loved it when she played the piano at home. That’s what made me want to learn to play. I took lessons long enough to learn to read music, but I hated practicing so I quit. But when the piano got moved from the living room to the privacy of a back bedroom, I renewed my interest in learning to play. One summer I played for hours and hours every day until I could play. The first song I learned with two hands was Beautiful Dreamer. I memorized Moon River so I could play it without looking.
20. My dad loved to go clam digging at the beach on the Pacific Ocean. We had to get up in the middle of the night to catch the tides. It was a long and winding ride in the dark. We played under dark gray skies on cold gray beaches while my dad dug for clams. We rode home on winding roads with smelly clams sloshing in the back of the station wagon. I don’t know how we did it on empty stomachs, but someone always threw up. And we always went back again. That Dad wanted to take us is still a wonder to me.
Thursday, August 07, 2008
Landmark
Today is my birthday.
I'm another year older.
For the most part, I have enjoyed getting older.
There is, however, a point of diminishing returns.
They say “Older but Wiser”, but sometimes you’re just older.
Today I turned 60. 60, mind you!
The birthday itself doesn’t bother me.
I’ve never had trouble turning any age, except one. For me it was 50. The day itself didn’t bother me, but coming up on it did.
As I saw it, all the fun things of life were behind me: being a child, going to school, dating, marrying, having children. And what was there to look forward to? Not much.
It's now 10 happy years later, and I’m tired. I was born tired. I was so listless as a child my mother thought I had a disease. But now I’m really tired. I find that time moves faster and I move slower. I get less done. I am spent more easily. I rest more often.
I really can’t complain. My health is good. I still work and play and maybe can still do a handspring.
It’s small stuff that gravity is winning the war with my body, and that it takes me twice as long to look half as good. By the time I’ve applied eye cream, wrinkle cream, firming cream, moisturizer, make-up, and taken all my pills, it’s lunchtime.
Being 50 was okay, kind of middle-aged. But there’s nothing middle-aged about 60. I am officially old.
Growing old is not the same thing as growing up.
The real problem is that I’m not grown up enough to be 60.
The truth be told, I’m kind of proud to be 60.
I am at last grateful to my dad for my oily skin, and to my forever-young mother. I feel younger, look younger, and think younger than some people my age.
Maybe there’s something to Peter Pan.
Maybe I don't have to grow up.
I just have to grow.
You are always the same age inside. Mary Engelbreit
I'm another year older.
For the most part, I have enjoyed getting older.
There is, however, a point of diminishing returns.
They say “Older but Wiser”, but sometimes you’re just older.
Today I turned 60. 60, mind you!
The birthday itself doesn’t bother me.
I’ve never had trouble turning any age, except one. For me it was 50. The day itself didn’t bother me, but coming up on it did.
As I saw it, all the fun things of life were behind me: being a child, going to school, dating, marrying, having children. And what was there to look forward to? Not much.
It's now 10 happy years later, and I’m tired. I was born tired. I was so listless as a child my mother thought I had a disease. But now I’m really tired. I find that time moves faster and I move slower. I get less done. I am spent more easily. I rest more often.
I really can’t complain. My health is good. I still work and play and maybe can still do a handspring.
It’s small stuff that gravity is winning the war with my body, and that it takes me twice as long to look half as good. By the time I’ve applied eye cream, wrinkle cream, firming cream, moisturizer, make-up, and taken all my pills, it’s lunchtime.
Being 50 was okay, kind of middle-aged. But there’s nothing middle-aged about 60. I am officially old.
Growing old is not the same thing as growing up.
The real problem is that I’m not grown up enough to be 60.
The truth be told, I’m kind of proud to be 60.
I am at last grateful to my dad for my oily skin, and to my forever-young mother. I feel younger, look younger, and think younger than some people my age.
Maybe there’s something to Peter Pan.
Maybe I don't have to grow up.
I just have to grow.
You are always the same age inside. Mary Engelbreit
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
I Lived to See It
Sanford Porter, my 4th Great Maternal Grandfather
“Sanford is a strange boy. I cannot make him out.”
These were the words of his father upon Sanford’s nagging questions about God, the soul of man, the Bible, and the Afterlife.
When his father died, Sanford’s questions became even more intense.
An inveterate searcher of the Bible, yet finding no satisfactory answers, Sanford considered himself “very near, if not quite, an atheist or infidel”.
Troubled by questions for years, it got to where he paced the barn by day and the house by night. Finally, he could not eat or sleep, yet was not tired or hungry, and for three days he talked to no one and no one talked to him. He spread his arms out, raised his hands, and cried aloud, “O God, if there be a God, show me the way, the right way.”
Then he heard a Voice: “There is a God, and he has known the desires of your heart this number of years. I will instruct you three times this night the way that is right.”
He lay down to sleep, and when he closed his eyes an angel in a long white robe with a red sash appeared and bid him, “Come”. Sanford was shown the Spirit World, and the order of Heaven. He was able to ask his questions and receive answers:
Was Jesus Christ the Son of God: Yes, temporally and spiritually.
Is the Bible true? Many things are lost, but true enough for salvation if read by the Spirit.
If a child dies in infancy are they doomed to hell? “No, emphatically no!”
Are there any churches that are right? “No. But the time is shortly ripe for it to come again. You may not live to see it, but your children certainly will.” This was in 1816.
About 15 years later, a couple of missionaries came to his home to tell of a new profession. They were Lyman Wight and John Corrill. For three days and nights, almost without sleep, he studied the Book of Mormon with them, and asked his many questions.
On the morning of the third day, he said, “If you have told me the truth—and I have not the least doubt of it—your church is the right church, and the only one on the face of the whole earth.” Shortly thereafter, he and his wife were baptized into the restored Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
In his journal, Sanford wrote:
“I had a vision, and I know I had a vision,” though "they (promulgators of priestcraft) called me a liar, a blasphemer, a dreamer."
“We were in a dark chamber and could find no window or door that would admit light—groping in darkness—terrible darkness. There is still darkness on the earth and in the minds of men, but nothing to compare with the gross darkness that existed before the advent of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. The Gospel had diffused light and warmth upon the earth, and to some extent all men are partakers of it.
“I have lived to see it!”
Sunday, August 03, 2008
Georgie-Porgie
I, Georgia Bramwell, was born on August 7, the fourth child, third daughter of Glen Paul and Frances Bramwell, in the old Harrison Memorial Hospital on Marion Avenue in Bremerton, Kitsap County, Washington. My dad always introduced me as “#4”.
In those days, mothers were completely knocked out, so my mother didn’t know what she’d had until she came out of the anesthesia. She stayed in the hospital for two weeks.
I know very little about my childhood, except that I walked very late (but I’ve been slow and late my whole life), and supposedly I was a very sweet-tempered child.
When I was about 4 we moved out of Navy project housing and into a large 3-story white brick house on Kitsap Lake. Three of us, my younger sisters and I, slept in a double bed in a nook in what was called the “piano room”. When we outgrew that, we each got our own section of the large upstairs bedroom where we kept each other awake late into the night every night.
One day I was playing with my two little sisters on the dock, or, more correctly, the boat, which we weren’t supposed to do. My youngest sister fell into the water. We were too little to get her out. It took an eternity for my little legs to run all the way up the hill to the house. When I finally found my mother she was on a long distance call. I finally broke through all the shushes to tell what happened. I followed my mother down to the lake, at a much faster pace than going up, and watched her jump into the water to rescue my sister. My other sister was still just sitting on the bow of the boat, and the water was only about a foot deep, but, what can I say?—we were little and dumb. We took my dripping wet sister to my dad (the doctor)’s office where they pumped her stomach and she survived. Whew!
When I was 5, Kindergarten wasn’t part of the school system, but my mother, when she had time, drove me to a dark little house in the woods where someone was teaching kindergarten.
I was baptized at 8 into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but several months after my birthday. A new chapel was being built and I wanted to be the first one baptized there, but my mother was impatient to get me dunked, so I was the last one baptized at the old YMCA and my best friend got to be the first one in the new church. No one in my family came to my baptism.
I was considered kind of a sickly child, though I never had any serious illnesses. I had measles, maybe mumps, but I never had chicken pox nor had my tonsils taken out. I just didn’t feel well alot. It was probably psychological, but when I was in junior high I was diagnosed with a structural stomach problem that has been a small “thorn in my side” all my life. I had to quit the orchestra in 8th grade because playing a clarinet caused a constant sore throat, something I’m still prone to. Thankfully, I can’t sing for very long.
I followed three illustrious siblings into high school where they were student officers, team captains, cheerleaders, drill teamers, etc., but I laid very low and kept quiet. My senior year I was elected president of the biggest club in school, the one everyone could join. I was shocked! When I went to talk to the principal, he was shocked! “How can you be a Bramwell and I not know you!”
This late-bloomer was just beginning to bloom. During that time I was in charge of my high school’s Homecoming. I was Ward Chorister, Ward Dance Director, an assistant to the adult leaders at Girls Camp, and directed a Road Show. It was all a great learning experience for this reluctant novice.
And I hadn’t even left home yet.
In those days, mothers were completely knocked out, so my mother didn’t know what she’d had until she came out of the anesthesia. She stayed in the hospital for two weeks.
I know very little about my childhood, except that I walked very late (but I’ve been slow and late my whole life), and supposedly I was a very sweet-tempered child.
When I was about 4 we moved out of Navy project housing and into a large 3-story white brick house on Kitsap Lake. Three of us, my younger sisters and I, slept in a double bed in a nook in what was called the “piano room”. When we outgrew that, we each got our own section of the large upstairs bedroom where we kept each other awake late into the night every night.
One day I was playing with my two little sisters on the dock, or, more correctly, the boat, which we weren’t supposed to do. My youngest sister fell into the water. We were too little to get her out. It took an eternity for my little legs to run all the way up the hill to the house. When I finally found my mother she was on a long distance call. I finally broke through all the shushes to tell what happened. I followed my mother down to the lake, at a much faster pace than going up, and watched her jump into the water to rescue my sister. My other sister was still just sitting on the bow of the boat, and the water was only about a foot deep, but, what can I say?—we were little and dumb. We took my dripping wet sister to my dad (the doctor)’s office where they pumped her stomach and she survived. Whew!
When I was 5, Kindergarten wasn’t part of the school system, but my mother, when she had time, drove me to a dark little house in the woods where someone was teaching kindergarten.
I was baptized at 8 into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but several months after my birthday. A new chapel was being built and I wanted to be the first one baptized there, but my mother was impatient to get me dunked, so I was the last one baptized at the old YMCA and my best friend got to be the first one in the new church. No one in my family came to my baptism.
I was considered kind of a sickly child, though I never had any serious illnesses. I had measles, maybe mumps, but I never had chicken pox nor had my tonsils taken out. I just didn’t feel well alot. It was probably psychological, but when I was in junior high I was diagnosed with a structural stomach problem that has been a small “thorn in my side” all my life. I had to quit the orchestra in 8th grade because playing a clarinet caused a constant sore throat, something I’m still prone to. Thankfully, I can’t sing for very long.
I followed three illustrious siblings into high school where they were student officers, team captains, cheerleaders, drill teamers, etc., but I laid very low and kept quiet. My senior year I was elected president of the biggest club in school, the one everyone could join. I was shocked! When I went to talk to the principal, he was shocked! “How can you be a Bramwell and I not know you!”
This late-bloomer was just beginning to bloom. During that time I was in charge of my high school’s Homecoming. I was Ward Chorister, Ward Dance Director, an assistant to the adult leaders at Girls Camp, and directed a Road Show. It was all a great learning experience for this reluctant novice.
And I hadn’t even left home yet.
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