The Sleeping Bag

*Note
I'm currently revising some old posts to be sure that I've used the correct name for the Lord's Church on earth today........The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.
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The Sleeping Bag

The two sometimes surly angels I live with have urged me to take action purging and sorting.
It seems they have issues with my drawers and closet shelves.
The angels read some sort of clutter control book and at my age they feel it's time for me to "cast away stones."

Alas, while sorting as I was directed to do, I happened upon several stories gathering electronic dust in a computer closet called "Docs."
They'd never been posted or needed repairs.
Kind of like that new skirt with the tags still on. It never did fit.

So after dusting, here's "The Sleeping Bag."

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I have a confession to make.
As a convert to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints I've sometimes felt outside of all that it means to be a full-fledged member.
I know it's wrong to feel that way.
But now and then I felt as though I was looking in through a window at strangers whose lives were so very different from the one I'd known growing up.

I thought that all the "real" Latter Day Saint women had mothers who taught their daughters to bake bread and sew quilts.
Or that domestic skills were genetic traits packed into handcarts and passed down from ancestors.

I figured that I must have come from the shallow end of the gene pool because my mother taught me whether olives, lemon twists or tiny onions were best for martinis.

Intellectually I knew that it was wrong to feel like an outsider.
We're a church made up of millions of converts after all, every one of them a beloved son or daughter of Heavenly Father.
I knew I was a beloved daughter.
Nevertheless, there I was, often feeling on the fringe.

The problem for me was cultural, I think.
Almost a culture shock, if you will.

Well, I was surprised to find out that I wasn't the only one getting buzzed.

Even our youngest daughters admit to having these fleeting feelings, which is surprising since they were both born in the Church.

But looking back over the years, I do remember hearing them make remarks like,"Whoo hoo, look at you!" if they walked into their older sister's house to find her baking homemade yeast rolls.
She'd learned to make them in Relief Society.

They certainly didn't mean this in a mocking or negative way.
And they knew that homemade rolls don't have any religious significance.
It's just that yeast never made it into our shopping cart. Yeast wasn't part of our  culture.
Crescents from a can were as cultured as it got around our house.

Then our family moved from the big city in the desert to our beloved little town in the Arizona mountains.

Things changed.

There we found ourselves thrust right into the middle of a tight knit group of what we considered really "hard core" Latter-day Saints.

Our new hometown was chocked full of members of the Church.
Many of these wonderful mountain folks were descended from ancestors who came across the plains pulling handcarts, I'm sure.

Hardy souls, these were, with skills difficult to fathom for city slickers like us. Self reliance took on a whole new dimension at mountain altitudes.

These folks worked hard at jobs all day and then came home to grow, can, dry, and freeze their own food.
They raised, fished or hunted meat. They butchered it themselves.
And the necessities of life were obtained not only with credit cards, as we did, but with guns, bows, arrows, and fishing rods.

Both the men and women possessed amazing cooking skills.

More than once I've witnessed huge pits dug into meadows, then blazing fires started inside them and left to burn down to coals.
Enormous quantities of beef, chicken and pork were lowered down into the pits in huge black pots.
Then they were buried to be dug up later.

Cauldrons of home grown sweet corn, beans and peach cobbler bubbled on smaller fires nearby.
Yeast rolls perched on top of those cauldrons. There they baked surrounded by glowing coals.
Yes, you heard right.
Yeast in a meadow!

As the sun went down hundreds of hungry people came to feast.

I remember too, one sweet sister who made a six tier wedding cake that looked like a magazine picture. Exquisite roses and doves covered every inch.

Her friend, who was helping, explained to me that this can easily be accomplished using ten boxes of white cake mix for the base if you need to take shortcuts.
Bless her heart, she actually thought I might need this information someday!

The brothers built their own houses.
They did all the carpentry, plumbing, bricklaying and electrical themselves, of course.
Cars, snowblowers, chain saws and anything else with an engine was repaired at home.
Wood was used for winter warmth, and after chopping their own, they always left a cord or two for widows or those who were laid up.

I remember that we once had a huge Ponderosa pine that was a hazard growing too close to our house and garage.
Something had to be done.
So after much research into expensive options, we were told by someone in the ward to get the elementary school principal to come chop it down for us. He could drop it on a dime we were told.
He did.
Then he made neat cords of wood to dry for us or to haul off to town for some other person's future winter.
The only pay he wanted was man junk from Larry's garage.

Many of the sisters had amazing sewing skills, making everything from wedding dresses to men's suits to band uniforms.
I once complimented a student of mine on a beautiful quilted jacket she wore after Christmas break. I asked if she'd mind seeing what department store it had come from because I wanted to get one for my oldest daughter.
She looked at me oddly and said, "My mom made it. But she can show you how."

Sadly too, we learned that when the time called for it, these amazing saints even tenderly crafted coffins for loved ones who had been called home.

Well, inadequate doesn't begin to describe my feelings. My self esteem was in shatters.
No way could I ever fit in with this bunch!

Then a member of the Relief Society Presidency and the Bishop did something that changed my mind.

One week I sat in Relief Society meeting as the sister up front began to talk about some tragedy that had happened on the other side of the world.
An earthquake or something had destroyed people's homes.
Winter was coming on. Little children and old people would be cold.

The stake had asked the sisters in each ward to donate their time, means and talents to make warm quilts to help those in such dire need.
A sign-up sheet was being passed down the rows of sisters.

In the heat of the moment I signed up.
I regretted my decision before the clipboard even got to the end of the row!

What in the world was I thinking?
I didn't know how to make a quilt!
All these other sisters could whip up some sort of "Texas Wedding Ring," "Log Cabiny" gorgeousness in their sleep!
I'd be a laughing stock for sure.

Well, it was too late now as I saw the Relief Society President pick up the clipboard.
So I went home to research the possibilities.

I learned about a blankety comforter-like thing that you could make using two sheets with some stuffing in the middle.
You tied it with yarn snippets.
The directions said it was easy.

Okay....maybe this was possible.
That was the plan then. I'd get on it right away.

In the meantime a table appeared outside the Relief Society Room door. Beautiful handmade quilts began to appear in stacks on top.
A glitter embellished sign explaining the project hung on the wall above.
Each week more and more lovely works of art began to appear. They draped over the table and were stacked on the floor around it.

My heart sank every time I passed that table.

I was going to have to get moving on this soon!
Procrastination wasn't helping matters.

That old Mark Twain quote, "If you have to swallow a frog it's best not to stare at him too long first," began to shake its metaphorical finger at me at the oddest times.

Finally, one dreadful Sunday the announcement was made that the project would end week after next.
I hadn't even started!

"Not to panic!" I thought desperately.
I knew our family would be heading the 37 miles down the mountain to the big box store on Saturday.
I'd get all the supplies then and have a week to finish. It said it was easy!

Saturday came, we arrived for our shopping as usual, split up at the door, each of us with our shopping assignments and separate carts.

I headed to the sewing department for batting, needles, pins, thread, yarn and then on to the sheets.
As I was throwing another roll of batting into my cart, life began to seem overwhelming, not to mention expensive.

Only a week to get all this done.  Wifeing, mothering and teaching full time to boot.
I dejectedly rolled on to the checkout line resigned to my fate. The wheel on my cart wobbled.
It was my own stupid fault!

But just then a tender mercy bestowed itself gently from above.

As I pushed my cart toward my doom I came across a huge bin practically blocking the entire aisle. There was a giant red "SALE!" sign above it.

The bin was overflowing with sleeping bags.

I slowed down. I slowed some more. Then I stopped.

"Sleeping bags were warm," I thought.
"Sleeping bags were probably just as warm as a quilt in fact.  These were nice thick ones with a zipper.
Not so beautiful as a quilt maybe........but wait.......here was a really thick, red one with a SuperHero on the front.
A kid might think that a thick, red, warm, sleeping bag with a SuperHero on it was beautiful!"

I opened it up and spread it out.

" A kid WOULD think this is beautiful!!" I thought joyfully as I examined the bright colors on the SuperHero's cape.

I threw it into my cart and headed back to the sewing department to put the batting, yarn, thread, pins and needles back. Then on to return the sheets.

The next day we arrived at church early so I could sneak into the hall and make my contribution without getting caught.
I got down on the floor and was putting the sleeping bag way underneath the table when the door to the Relief Society Room opened.

One of the sisters in the presidency stuck her head out, saw what I was doing, smiled, and said, "Thank you."
I mumbled something and dashed off to the chapel.
"Well, at least that was over." I sighed.

A couple of weeks later, in Sacrament meeting, the Bishop got up to give the announcements.
He began by telling the members about the tragedy in the faraway land. About how the people had lost their homes and that winter was coming on. Children and old people would be cold unless someone helped. He explained that the sisters in the stake had been asked to donate their time, means, and talent to make warm quilts for them.
He told how proud he was of our ward's generous response and contribution.

He said, "All the members of our ward will be proud to know that our wives, mothers, daughters, sisters, aunts, grandmothers, nieces and friends have donated thirty-seven beautiful handmade quilts to keep people warm this winter!"

"Oh wait"... he paused...."here's a note...."
He stopped to read before going on.
"Correction" he continued......"that's thirty seven beautiful quilts ......plus one warm, red, Superhero sleeping bag. Thank you so much sisters."

The sister from Relief Society was sitting just two rows in front of us. She turned to smile at me.

A minute later my husband looked at me questioningly.
Then he whispered, "Why are you crying?"
I just shook my head at him.

I was crying because in that moment I knew that the Lord and His Church had accepted my efforts.
What I could do was what I should do.

It didn't matter that other people could do more. I was supposed to help too, in whatever way I could. It was enough. And it did help!

Some kid really would like the warm, red, Superhero sleeping bag. His life would be better because of it.
A kid on the other side of the world, someone who had lost his home maybe, would be warmer because of something I was able to give.

The Relief Society sister was trying to send me this message when she gave the note to the Bishop, of course.
I'll never forget her smile.

And I've felt a lot less like an outsider ever since.

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"Every man shall give as he is able, according to the blessing of the Lord our God, which He hath given thee."

Deuteronomy 16:17