A Word to the Wise

*This is an old holiday post from several years ago. I wish you all a very blessed Christmas.

The desert summer's blistering heat is over!  Yeah!
That muffled noise the mountain folks can hear coming from Arizona's Valley of the Dadburned Sun is the cheering of the summer survivors. 
Now the days are glorious and the nights cool, just as fall is in the rest of the country.

The difference is that we lowlanders are now looking forward to planting season.
In the dead of winter.

Soon the petunias and johnny-jump-ups will roll into the big box stores and we can get to planting. 
Seven months of wonderful are on the way! 
Just yesterday the landscaping crews were seeding the neighborhood parks with winter rye. In a few weeks our parched desert eyes will feast on green pastures. (In December and January by the way.) 
When Christmas comes around we'll hear lawn mowers whirring and smell that fresh, new mown, green grass smell. 

Some people say they just can't get in the mood for the holidays with flowers all around instead of snow. 
Well that's ridiculous! The climate in the Holy Land is more like ours after all. There's no need to be singing about white Christmases and feeling left out and spiritless! 
I've often felt the words to that old song should be changed anyway. What about this?

            
            Bright Christmas

            I'm dreaming of a bright Christmas

            With every flower pot I pass

            Where swimming pools glisten,

            And children listen,

            To Dad who's outside mowing grass.

            I'm dreaming of a bright Christmas

            With every barbeque I light.

            May your days be merry and right,

            And may all your Christmases be bright.

Same tune with more appropriate words don't you think?

Anyway, the coming holidays bring thoughts of gifts, those to be given and those received. 
During this season one of the gifts I'm most grateful for is a particular counsel Heavenly Father gave to his children in the scriptures. 
The 89th section of the Doctrine and Covenants gives lots of helpful info on health. Included is the warning that alcohol and tobacco are not good for man. 
A word to the wise so to speak. And years and years ahead of common knowledge, too.

You see, I'm especially grateful because I grew up in a household with an alcoholic. That's easy to say, but only those of you who have had that experience will know what it means. I've heard it said that there's no hell like the hell of living with alcoholism. Somebody who lived with it probably said it. 

During my youth, Christmas was usually filled with extra-special alcohol induced pain. 
How grateful I am for the loving counsel Father gave us that has spared my children and grandchildren from the same thing. Because of His advice my holiday season has overflowed with family, friends and love for forty years now. 
Even so, it's strange how those dark times sometimes still haunt.

Then too, once or twice I recall being reminded that so many others still haven't gotten the message of that great gift.  Once was back when I was teaching high school. 

I remember sitting at my computer ready to take roll before the second bell. 
Kids were coming in, saying cheerfully, "Hey Mz Dub," as they passed. There was lots of the usual jabber as they made their way to their seats.
I recall that we'd been having some interesting discussions in our "Lifeskills" classes about underage drinking, a common recreational activity among my students.
But despite my best efforts they remained unconvinced of my point of view.

My kids all knew my story and my religion and were not shy about expressing their opinion that I didn't know how to have a good time and that I was too "churchy" etc.
I told them that I did too know how to have a good time, and I didn't need alcohol to do it either.
And "churchy" was beside the point because not only was drinking illegal for them, what might start out as just a little fun often ended up in a thousand different versions of disaster.
I had expounded on many of those versions to no avail.

Anyway, this day as the kids came in I heard snippets of conversation about the latest episode of somebody's favorite TV show, "Cops." 
A student was telling about the usual drunken brawls, beating up of wives and girlfriends and subsequent arrests when another kid walked by and remarked, "I've seen that show. All those fools on it are either drunk or high." 
The first kid thought for a bit and then said, "Hey, you know you're right." Others piped up in agreement. 
Then from across the room a girl chimed in, "Yeah, and their idiot, wasted girlfriends with the black eyes and broken arms don't press charges because they always say "I still love you baby!" 

Well, not being stupid, I stood up, turned around slowly, and called out dramatically to the entire class,
"And let their lives be a lesson to you!" 

They all got quiet and just looked at me. 
No arguments. Just silent stares and contemplation.

Best teaching moment all week.
Who says TV can't be educational?

Another was a few years ago on Christmas Eve. 
We had traveled to my brother Matt and sister-in-law Beth's house for their traditional annual party. 

Everyone looks forward to this night. It's always so lovely. The house is gorgeous, the food's superb, and best of all we get to see family we haven't seen in months. My brother Mark from California had been able to make the trip this year which made it even more special. 

We arrived loaded down with packages and food and went in through the crowd hugging all the way. 
I didn't see Mark anywhere but heard his booming voice call for me to come out to the patio where someone told me he was grilling the most enormous prime rib roast anyone had ever seen. I finally spotted him over in a dark corner by a huge grill, surrounded by people gawking at that stupendous roast. Mark takes great pride in his grilling and produces some astounding results. 
I was heading toward him with a smile, he opened up his arms to give me a hug, and just as I reached him I tripped over an ice chest full of his secret ingredients hidden in the shadows. I landed face first on a large saucepot which cracked me hard across the bridge of my nose, causing blood to start trickling down my face. It created quite a ruckus considering that it didn't hurt much. 

Anyway, I was escorted to safety, plied with ice packs and generally made a fuss over. 
Even so, after a remarkably short while my eyes began to swell. People remarked that both were turning black. When they were practically swollen shut I was made to go to the emergency room, as "Kath! You look just terrible!" was pronounced for the hundredth time. 
Larry and I reluctantly left the party to head to the nearest ER. We hoped to make it quick and be back in time for the guitar playing and last chorus of "Feliz Navidad". 

Well, we walked into a jammed packed ER, full of the injured remnants of too much Christmas cheer, certain now, considering the crowd, that this wasn't going to be a quick trip.

After a long wait my name was called and I went up to a weary looking receptionist. 
She took a look at my face and asked how much I'd had to drink. 
I told her I didn't drink at all. 
She said, "Oh, your husband's the drinker." 
I said, "No, he doesn't drink either. It was a prime rib roast that my brother brought from California." 
She gave me a strange look. 
"You had to be there," I replied.
I was sent in to a treatment room where a nurse came in to take my blood pressure. She looked tired. 
After one glance she said, "Been drinking have we?" 
I explained that I didn't drink, neither did my husband and it was my brother's prime rib roast. 
She shook her head and left.

The doctor came in and from across the room said accusingly, "You're nose is broken."

I replied, "I don't drink."

He said, "Tell your husband not to drink either. Do you want to press charges?"
I said, "No, he was in the house, I was out on the patio. It was my brother's prime rib roast from California. I swear." 

He sighed wearily and bandaged my nose.

When they let me go they made me ride in a wheelchair to the still packed waiting room. 
As I rolled in I could hear people gasp as they looked at my black and swollen eyes. I looked for Larry and finally spotted him clear across the crowded room.

I really don't have to tell you the rest, do I? 
It's just too obvious.

Of course I stood up shakily and called out loudly,   "It's okay baby!   I still love you!" 

As I was checking out I heard a kind of scuffle and recognized Larry's distressed voice earnestly explaining to the people around him.  "I swear!   I wasn't even in the same room!   It was her brother's prime rib roast from California!"

As we made our way to the car I could tell he was not amused.

I was amused though. 
In fact I thought it was downright funny. 

But more than anything I was grateful. 
As we walked together to the car on this Christmas Eve.......  Larry scolding,  me laughing.......  I was so grateful for the guidance given in the scriptures by a loving Father. 
That word to the wise.

Grateful that for forty years no hateful, piercing, wounding words have been spoken in our home due to drinking. And alcohol hasn't been the cause of shame, embarrassment, lost jobs, arguments, fistfights, DUI citations, liver damage, broken promises, hearts or homes.  None of us has killed anyone on the highway. Nobody's been arrested, spent thousands on bail, fines and lawyers or contracted an STD while drunk. No one's had one too many and become a parent before a home was ready for a new life either.

None of that has happened at our house simply because we all truly believe that Father said alcohol wasn't good for man. 
Check it out in the scriptures. 
Essentially Father said, "Hey Kids, I love you. It isn't wise to use alcohol and tobacco."  
And He told his beloved children about this long before science finally agreed with Him.

Think of the broken lives that could be avoided if all of us heeded just that one, small bit of Father's counsel. That "Word of Widom" thing concerning alcohol and tobacco.

You're still thinking aren't you? 
That's because that much sorrow is simply too great to be measured. 

So, thank you Father, for the Word of Wisdom. 
From the bottom of my heart, thank you so very much.
I will always be grateful.
It's one of the best gifts ever.

By Small Means Great Things Are Brought to Pass

* This is a rewrite of a post from a couple of years ago.
You see, computers don't work well for me but alas I must use them.  If I had a good, old No. 2 pencil and a yellow legal pad there wouldn't be so many errors.




By small means great things are brought to pass.

That's what the scriptures say isn't it?
Well, not long ago we were asked to do a small thing by a couple of the Lord's apostles.
Since I figured that they might know a little something about how the Lord works, I paid attention.
I mean I want "great things to come to pass" just as much as the next sister. And even I might be able to do something right if it's small enough.

Well, you know what it was? According to them, apostles of the Lord no less, it's important to eat meals regularly with our families. Especially dinner.
 
Really?
That does seem like a small thing doesn't it?
And considering the realities of modern life....highly impractical.
When I first heard this I wondered in my "raggedy convert" way how that could possibly be of eternal importance anyway.
I mean we're talking burgers and meatloaf here.
   
I was still wondering the next day when I asked my 3rd period high school class what their favorite family dinner was.
 (Hey, it was only five minutes till the bell rang and 4th period was lunch!)
There were about 12 kids, mostly seniors, all hanging in there to graduate despite their various disabilities.
    
One piped up right away with a mouth-watering description of his Nana's tamales and his mom's enchiladas that made us all hungry. He said they have these for every birthday, anniversary, graduation etc. when all the family gets together. Aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins etc.
 I said, "How often does that happen and can I get invited to the next one?
   
He replied, "Sure Mz Dub, two or three times a month at least. I'll ask my mom." He also gave us a glowing description of his mom's spagetti, which he says they have at his house every Tuesday when it's just his family.
I heard teenaged stomachs growling and somebody threw a pencil at him.
   
"What about the rest of you?" I asked the class, "What's your favorite family dinner on a weeknight?"
     
I was very surprised that every single one of my other students said they never ate with their families during the week.
Not just seldom mind you. Never.
There were lots of reasons for this....parents worked, everybody got home at different times.... it just wasn't convenient. Most didn't eat with their family on weekends either, except on rare special occasions.
   
"So, what do you do for dinner?" I asked.
 Cereal, sandwich or microwave was the answer for most of them.
A heated discussion on the virtues of "hot pockets vs ramen noodles" ensued. One girl gave her recipe for grilled cheese sandwiches. (Toast two pieces of bread. Unwrap a slice of cheese. Put it between the toasts and nuke it for 30 seconds.) Those with cars said they relied heavily on the dollar menu at the fast food places. That started an argument about Jack vs Mac.
The bell rang before it was decided.
     
The class left and it was finally lunch.
So I unwrapped my peanut butter sandwich and thought that it was a little sad about their dinner situations.
What could you do, though? That's modern life.
I began to think about those modern lives as I chewed.

Several of my kids had family members in prison..... fathers, mothers, brothers, or cousins.
( Not the "Every Tuesday was spagetti" kid though).

In fact, a few of my kids had really close, working relationships with the juvenile justice system themselves. Complete with probation officers that I met with on a regular basis.
(Not the "spagetti" kid though)

I recalled that one boy had recently spent his entire Thanksgiving break in the Durango county jail.
He was highly incensed, not because he'd missed his family Thanksgiving, but because he'd planned to spend all four days getting wasted at parties.

None of my students lived with both parents.

Except for the Mom's spagetti on Tuesdays and Nana's tamales kid.

One lived with his father and five brothers, each of them with different mothers. One sweet girl was pregnant but would graduate at the end of the semester before the baby was due. She lived in the projects with her mom, who worked two jobs to support them.
 
I began to think harder about the young man who ate spagetti every Tuesday with his family.
His life was very different from the others.
I knew this student's parents well and had even met his grandparents at one of the school games. They all were involved in this boy's life.

I knew, too, that the culture in their family had included regular dinners together for more than one generation. It was just the way they did things.
Could "small means" have made a big difference over the years?  Is there something going on at dinner that I missed?
Are we talking about more than meatloaf here?
 
This was still on my mind the next Sunday during Relief Society meeting.
So I asked the sisters if they'd heard this "dinner together" counsel we'd been given.
I also pointed out that I was a raggedy old convert who worked outside the home. There was no possible way I had time to cook a fancy meal every night after the day I usually had! I believe I may have said, "Get real!"
   
The response was immediate and amazing. Some of it outraged, even. And boy, did I learn a lot!
   
First I learned that NOBODY has time to cook a fancy meal every day whether they work outside the home or not.
Then I learned that, "It's not about the food, stupid."

Apparently none of the apostles ever said a word about fancy meals.
They just said to eat together as a family.

One sister pointed out that nothing was mentioned against paper plates or "Taco Tuesday" from the local chain either. She says she serves said tacos with bagged carrots, sliced cucumbers, celery sticks and ranch dressing (which she counts as salad and keeps bags of in the fridge), and that her family looks forward to it every week.

Another sister says that any self-respecting LDS woman with half a brain could put a family meal on the table in 15 minutes anyway.
         
A deluge of dinner ideas followed.
I'll share some of them, but the women don't want their identities revealed. None of these meals would be featured, or even admitted to, on the cooking shows.
We're talking day to day, get the gang rounded up around the table, even when you just walked in the door 15 minutes ago, food. There's no arugula anywhere.
Remember there's 365 days in a year and that can be a long road full of potholes. Here's a couple of the things they told me.

RIDICULOUSLY EASY FAMILY DINNERS:

*Sloppy Joes  /Cottage cheese and pineapple/  Plus the no peel, raw veggie, ranch dressing for dip, salad thing.

I learned Joes are quicker and less trouble than burgers. Brown any ground          meat, drain and mix with bottled BBQ sauce.  Onion buns are better here.           Worth the extra money. 15 minutes to make dinner.


*Can Can Chile and Cornbread
(Boxed Crackers if the wolves are nipping at your heels.)

Brown 1-2 lbs of any ground meat.  (Or get 1-2 lbs ground meat out of the          freezer because you forgot to do it this morning when you were rushing out    the door.  Put frozen meat in a pan with a little splash of water, put the lid on and start cooking. Every now and then turn the clunk over and break it up until all is browned. Do this any time you forgot and need browned meat. If you flatten it before freezing it'll thaw faster.)

Now add 1 or 2 cans EACH of diced tomatoes, beans (like pinto or kidney), and Hormel or other canned chile.  Mix it up.  Season with chile and garlic powders. Heat, covered, while you mix a couple of boxes of Jiffy cornbread. 2 boxes fits in a 9x13 pan. My daughter adds 1/2 can of creamed corn to each box of mix, by the way. Ice cream for dessert. 20 minutes to make the whole dinner.  Missionaries like this.
 

*$5 Pizza from the pizza store /  Bagged fancy salad (Alright there might be    some arugula.)  /Peach sundaes (Vanilla ice cream, topped with canned sliced    peaches and a sprinkle of one of the following; brown sugar, granola, crumbled cookies or a squirt of whipped cream. If you put a bottled cherry on top everyone under 16 will be impressed.)
Families with lots of kids really like this dinner apparently.
               
     
*Crock Pot
Put something in it before you leave home. A big piece of meat works. Throw some unpeeled potato clunks in the bottom if there's room. Slice and season as you serve. BBQ sauce will do.
Serve with the instant salad /ranch dressing dip thing and rolls or biscuits you bake from a can.
Get a kid to set the table and it's 3 minutes cooking when you get home plus biscuit baking time.

 Alert!  Big Crockpot Bonus

The crockpot will make the house smell good.
One sister reports her son said that when he comes home from school or practice and smells dinner cooking, "It feels like a hug."  I've noticed that myself come to think of it.

Technology Update!

Several sisters said that their ovens have a "delay start" feature that makes it possible to place even frozen stuff in there and it will magically start cooking later so it will be ready at dinnertime. Comes with that "dinner smell hug" bonus too. (I looked. I think mine has it. Who knew?)

The list went on and on.

The point being that since this "small means" might end up making a big difference it's worth a little thought and planning.

Another thing. More than one woman said that presentation means a lot when serving simple dinners like these.

One smart sister bought a set of those little red  plastic baskets at the $1 store. The ones they use at fast food places.
She uses them on burger, Joe, or hot dog nights. She buys bakery buns with sesame seeds, not the cheap ones, because it doesn't take any more time and makes a big difference. Cottage cheese and pineapple plus chips rounds it all out.
She also uses a special red and white checked tablecloth and everybody gets a root beer on those nights only.
Her six year old calls her the " best cook in the world."

Every woman there said that a well stocked pantry and freezer make ten minute meals way easier.

One smart lady says she cooks large amounts of pasta, brown rice, and dry beans on Saturdays, puts them in zip locks and keeps them in the fridge or freezer for almost instant stir frys or spagetti.
She buys big bags of frozen stir fry veggies at the big box store to avoid peeling, and lots of on sale boneless chicken to slice before freezing. She starts cooking the chicken after just a few minutes on nuke defrost.
She says you'll need those cans of fruit and cottage cheese too.

In any case, the general consensus was........ don't get caught with your pantry down.

But then I mentioned the seemingly insurmountable problem of people getting home at different times.
What about that, huh?
There's no dinner bell that we can clang and have everybody run in from chores anymore.
Almost all of my students had mentioned this as a reason why they didn't have meals as a family.
Work, school and crazy schedules can wreck suppertime.

Someone piped up with something like, "The Lord gives no commandment save there is a way to accomplish it."
Another said, "Just do it!"

Then one sister said she too was frustrated by conflicting family schedules until she took the revolutionary advice of the BYU cooking show lady. Here it is.
   
                HAVE DINNER AT THE SAME TIME EACH NIGHT
                         NO MATTER WHO'S AT HOME.

Forget coordinating schedules, because chances are you can't.
Sometimes everybody will be there, sometimes not.

But WHOEVER is there "connects."

And, no matter where they may be, the whole family knows its dinnertime and that people who love them are gathered.
That's just the way things are done at their house.
   
One lady said that her family always prayed for any missing persons when asking the blessing on the food.
Her teenaged son once told her that whenever he looked at the gym clock at 6 PM during practice, he knew that his family was having dinner together and that they'd just prayed for him.

That might be an important thing for a 16 year old to know don't you think?

Someone pointed out that dinner is no time for discipline either. The only question anybody should be asked is, "What's going on in your life?"

Small means. Sure.
But just burgers and meatloaf going on here? I don't think so.
Maybe it's the connections that make such a big difference.
Maybe it's the encouragement and comfort we give each other as we pass the potatoes.
Maybe it's about laughter, love, belonging and family, and about being able to count on it regularly.

I'm not sure what it is, but the brethren have me convinced that great things could come to pass when we have dinner with the people we love.
How about you?

                         
             
                         

Self-Esteem and the Broken Plug

*Another Old One That I'm Trying to Fix



Self Esteem and the Broken Plug

The new school year is starting soon. My daughters are busy getting their classrooms ready and my thoughts have turned to the many years when I was in their shoes. I miss it.  Well, most of it anyway.  Faculty meetings are one thing I don’t miss. They can become truly scary for a lot of reasons. People have actually died in faculty meetings and not been found until the janitor comes in to clean up!
But the kids, the wonderful staff, the anticipation, the new possibilities…….those things I miss.

Our daughter Kim is busy getting her 7 kids ready for the new year. In there among the backpacks and new shoes she already has a conference scheduled for her pre-schooler. 
Good old parent teacher conferences. 
I must have been part of hundreds of these.
One thing I’ve been thinking about as I look back on teaching is the concern so many parents expressed during conferences over their child’s “self esteem.” They agonized and worried that their offspring would be scarred for life by the horrific effects of low self esteem. And even though a popular movie I once saw contained the line, "Low self esteem in some cases is just good common sense," I disagree. It doesn't make sense at all.  Low self esteem is a product of not understanding the truth about who we are.  And there are things a parent can do to help. 
Let me tell you about an incident in my childhood that taught me a great lesson about feelings of self worth.

I was in fourth grade or thereabouts. I had a lamp in my bedroom that wouldn’t work because of a damaged plug. I really needed that lamp so I asked my dad if he would fix it. He said he would and that weekend bought a little plug repair kit at the local hardware store. (There were no big box stores back then.) Well, he got busy with work and such and didn’t get to fixing my lamp. So one day I went to the garage and brought the repair kit to my room. I read the directions carefully, gathered the tools it said were needed, and replaced that plug myself. When I was done the lamp worked perfectly! “Look at that! Fixed by a 4th  grade girl!’ I thought proudly.

I’m an old lady now and yet when I think of that plug repair I still feel a little more confident as a human being. I can do something useful! I may not be much as anything else but I can fix a plug if you need one! There are other little competencies I have but I’ll spare you the details. (Okay……. I can make a heart cake without special pans and I can fix your jacket zipper with a razor blade.)

The point is this. Success…….. true success…… in any area builds confidence. Success doesn’t mean lavish praise for a mediocre job, or fake celebrations for a consolation prize. Kids know. They’re not stupid. Any of them. They know when they’ve done something valuable. And when they do something of worth it builds confidence in every area of their lives.

So, here are a couple of ideas for concerned parents who have a kid who needs a confidence boost.

Quietly and without sharing with anyone in the family, invest in 3 boxes of brownie mix. (About $1 each on sale) Brownies are about the easiest baked treat on the planet. Get that 8 year old boy with no confidence and head to the kitchen. You sit in a chair ON your hands. Direct the boy in great detail in making the first box of brownies. Start with, “Get a bowl, wooden spoon, the pan we make brownies in.” Then, step by step explain how to do this while you WATCH only. Do not, under any circumstances, step in! Instead say, “Get a paper towel, wet it a little, wipe up the egg on the floor.” Continue until the brownies are done, cooled, cut, and on a plate neatly. If these are not really good looking, great tasting brownies repeat teaching procedure with boxes 2 and 3. DISCARD any inferior brownies without a comment. (It’s only a $1!) Do not give them to the family to try to be frugal! Repeat this procedure a week or so later if needed. When you are confident that this kid can be successful, casually say in front of the whole family that you are too busy to make treats for Family Home Evening but brownies will be provided. Send the kid into the kitchen by himself while you do the “busy thing.” At the appropriate time serve the treats to the wonderment of all present. After that, keep a good supply of boxed mixes on hand and sometimes “forget” baked goods that other family members need for the class party, or cub scouts, etc. Tell them to ask their brother nicely and maybe he’ll rescue them with his skills. This may take some time but you’ll see a change in his confidence level soon. This will spill over to school I promise.

Then, too, according to Kim, one of our young granddaughters who needed a boost was helped when it turned out that she could really clean a bathroom well. She was able to do this because Kim’s knee hurt and she had company coming, so she sat on the edge of the bathtub and patiently explained exactly how to do every task to this child. It was desperation not inspiration that was at work here. It took a long time but that bathroom looked good enough for company and was cleaned entirely by this small child who never seemed to be able to do much right. Well, the rest of the family was impressed! Now, when older brothers or sisters have the bathroom assigned to them, the littlest one must sign off on the quality of their work. She's even been asked to teach them how to do the job right. What a boost!

The point is that there are countless ways to help a kid who needs to believe in himself. Any success, no matter how small, as long as it’s real, will contribute to the cause. You may have to think a bit and patiently teach until true excellence is achieved but your kid is worth it, I promise. The Boy Scout manuals are full of ideas by the way. 
So teach someone you love to change a bike tire, or make a meatloaf, or paint a room. Better yet, teach her to do all three. You may soon be the parent of someone who feels that he can do things, he can contribute, he’s needed. She’s not a loser after all, because if all else fails,  at least she can fix a broken lamp plug!

A Burp Can Be Forever

This is another old post I'm trying to remove the most glaring errors from. See...there's a sentence ending in a preposition again.

A Burp Can Be Forever

Even though it pains me, I have to admit that television can sometimes be a blessing. 
I usually think it’s a waste of time, at best.  But then there is Conference, with its eternal truths.  And yesterday I watched that wonderful old musical “Fiddler On the Roof.” 
You know the film……..about Tevye…….. the Jewish milkman in Russia, during the cruel days of czarist persecution. He explains how he and his people survive all their hardships through an inspiring song called “Tradition.” It reminded me of a Relief Society lesson I once taught on that same subject. The lesson urged us to develop traditions in our families so they could become ties that bind us to each other for eternity. 
I agree. I remember using a spool of thread to wind, over and over again, around the clasped hands of a sister. This was to show how something as small as a thread, if wound enough times, is as strong as any rope in holding things together.

                                       
Nowadays though, holding things together isn’t as easy as it used to be. Our lives are very different from that of a milkman living in a small village centuries ago. Not simple for sure. In fact complicated and stressed might be more accurate. Everybody in the family is on a demanding schedule, even the kids. What with work, school, church, sports, scouts, etc. who has time for tradition?
Well, the relief society lesson said we should make time if we want to be linked to each other forever. And with a little pondering, as the Good Book says, we can see opportunities all around us.

The key here is to think small and to remember the thread. 
It’s just not true that meaningful family traditions have to be elaborate or expensive rituals reserved for holidays or vacations. Sometimes the most everyday occasions become the most remembered.

One sister told me about a simple tradition that’s become the favorite of her whole family. It came about quite by accident.
It seems that one day while shopping she ran across some bright lime green plastic plates and tumblers. They were on clearance for 50 cents each. She bought a bunch of them thinking they’d be good for barbeques and picnics. Instead, it turned out that in a moment of divine inspiration, those neon green dishes were brought out one night when someone in the family did something worth a little celebration. She happened to have some root beer on hand and served it in the tumblers along with a toast to the honoree.
Well, after that, if anybody in the family won a race or earned an “A,” or got a first job or a long awaited promotion, or learned to tie their shoes, whatever……. those lime green plastic plates came out. When the family came home and saw the “green” table they knew somebody had a little victory of some kind to celebrate. This smart mom also made it a habit to keep a few bottles of root beer hidden away for just these occasions. After the family gathered and prayed, someone was chosen to lead the toast.  Well, one time, the eight year old son was to do the toasting.  He had sneaked a couple of swallows of root beer before the prayer.

So,  he made his little congratulatory speech,  stood and raised his green plastic tumbler. Just as he proudly declared, “To Sally….for finally getting an “A” in science"…..a long, loud, root beer burp came rolling out. "BRaaaaaaaaaaaack!" 
Everybody laughed of course.
But sadly for our dear sister a family tradition had been born.
Now, at every celebration, the one giving the toast says…… “To blank……..for doing a wonderful thing ........BRaaaaaaaaaaaaack!"!

The whole family always roars with laughter. The first child who went away to college said this was the thing she missed most about her family.  Her younger brother said that whenever he hears someone burp, no matter where he is, he thinks about home and feels honored.

Traditions……ties that bind…….threads in the tapestry of family. Sometimes the simplest things can mean the most.
Pancakes on Saturday mornings. 
Watching the college game with Dad and giving that special, goofy cheer at every touchdown. 
Notes of encouragement in a shirt pocket or backpack. 
The most recently valiant family member being given the spoon and bowl to lick after someone makes chocolate frosting.
Popcorn and a Disney flick on Friday nights. 
A special song for cheering up, reading books aloud in the car on long trips, a wife’s secret code of a handful of Starburst candies placed in a husband’s briefcase, a hundred other small, everyday traditions. 

The trick is to repeat them, like the thread, until they have the power to bind.

Traditions. A single, simple thread, wound over and over again. Strong stuff.

Who knew that a burp could be forever?

Sending One Off

My oldest daughter Kim asked me the other day if having a missionary gone far away from home will get easier as the months go by.  Will that heart wrenching worry for their safety and happiness ease up some?

She says she knows people in her ward who've sent sons and daughters off around the world. When she sees them in church on Sunday she asks how everyone's doing. She says a lot of them still start sniffling even after months have gone by. One friend's son was returning soon from Chile and Kim asked her when it got easier. The sister wiped a tear away and replied bravely, "Not yet."

I only had that experience once. Sending a missionary off to serve.
It was our shy, quiet, child. The one who always had trouble being comfortable around strangers. The one who got a stomach ache if she was ever too long gone from home. She went clear across the country to live with strangers, speak only Spanish, and try to find people looking for the truth. She didn't speak Spanish before she left.

Now, our son Dane and his wife Lisa have sent our granddaughter, born and raised in the desert, off to serve in the land of blizzards and twenty-below zero wind chills.

And, just this morning, Kim and Scott put their oldest on a plane for Salt Lake and then to Brazil.

They speak Portuguese in Brazil.

They won't see her again for a year and a half.

Kim wants to know if it will get easier.

First, before I answer, I want to thank some people I've never thanked before.

Thank you to the mothers and fathers of all those young missionaries who came to our house so many long years ago. We knew nothing of the truth until a bunch of goofy teenagers brought it to us. You see, we went through about eight sets of missionaries before we were finally baptized. Most of them were teenagers. One mom and dad sent their son all the way from Samoa to talk to us. He could eat 17 tacos for supper I recall. This kid was huge, well over six feet tall, who'd helped his dad on the family pig farm in Samoa before his mission. That boy could eat. And he liked my tacos.

He left his family by the ocean and came halfway around the world to live in a desert for two years just to talk to us about the most important thing there is. Well, and to talk to a few others too. And along the way he learned that he liked tacos. He and his mom and dad had been saving for years for his mission. Now he was flipping a chart over, explaining eternal truths and wiping hot sauce off his fingers.

Well, that young man changed our lives.
For eternity.

I'm reminded about eternity when my daughter, a child of  raggedy old converts, tells me that she's had some of our ancestor's work done in the temple.  Seems that eternity goes back in time as well as forward. Missionary work goes backwards too, I guess.

So, I'd like to thank that young man from Samoa's mom and dad.
In fact, I'd like to thank all the mom's and dads of missionaries.

You loved them. You taught them the truth. You saved and sacrificed for missions. Once, many years ago, one couple sent their boy off halfway around the world. You knew you wouldn't see him for two long years. You worried about his safety and happiness. You wondered how he could possibly survive in a desert. You missed him every single day.

I want you to know that he changed our lives forever. A whole lot of lives changed it seems. Forward and back.
He brought our family the truth. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

And now, in part because of that young man and his parents from Samoa, we have two granddaughters off on missions. One to blizzards and one to Brazil.

And Kim wants to know if it gets any easier, having one gone on a mission. Will that wrench and worry ease up?

All I can say is that I'm eternally grateful to the parents of the ones that were sent to knock on our door, so many years ago. And I'm grateful to those goofy teenagers who came. They changed everything for our family.  Changed it for us, our ancestors and our posterity. Forever.
I hope that makes it a little easier.

I think it was Jeffrey Holland who once said something like, "The gospel of Jesus Christ is rolling forth to fill the entire earth on the shoulders of an army of teenagers." And some just barely older than that, I might add.

May Heavenly Father bless and keep that beautiful army safe and well. May he inspire them to work hard and lead them to those seeking truth. May he bless them all the rest of their lives for their missions.

And may he bless and comfort their parents too.

Kim's Hyacinth

My oldest daughter lifted my spirits today.
It made up for some of the trouble she caused when she was a child.

Her family recently returned from a long awaited and much anticipated trip to Disneyland. Their oldest of seven, Mackenzie, leaves for her mission to Brazil in just a couple of weeks. While she's away serving, the next oldest, Malachi, will graduate high school and turn 18. He plans a mission also.  It's the last time their entire family will be together for several years.

Disneyland holds a special place in all their hearts. But a trip for such a big group requires clever budgeting. There's not much money for being frivolous when you have to multiply frivolity by 9. One Dole Whip or Mickey ice cream may not be much, but the expense looms large if the whole family wants one.

Anyway, knowing this, Larry and I made up a bag with a poem and a little card with $10 in it for each of them.  The poem is one of my favorite great thoughts. A misquote goes something like this...

If of all the world's goods thou art bereft,
And to thee alone but two loaves of bread are left,
Sell one, and with the dole,
Buy hyacinths to feed thy soul.

Each was instructed to buy a hyacinth on the trip.  It was explained that hyacinths are flowers but theirs might look like a churro or Minnie Mouse key chain. Kim said it was great for each kid to have a little to spend without having to ask. Yea!
Mission accomplished.

Then today she told me about her "chrysanthemum" as she called it.  It took me a while to figure out what she was talking about.

It seems they had stopped at the beach on the day before they were to go to the parks. The kids all ran out to the ocean while she stayed at the van to make sandwiches. Hard at work she looked up to see a bedraggled woman pass by on the sidewalk. She looked worn down and possibly homeless. Kim thought of her $10 and ran with it to give to the woman. She actually had to chase her. The lady was so grateful it broke Kim's heart. So she touched the woman gently and asked her if she was hungry. Kim explained that she was making sandwiches and she had turkey and cheese or peanut butter and jelly. Would she like one? The lady said she'd like peanut butter and jelly.

Kim went back to make it.

While she was spreading peanut butter and jelly she said something very special happened.  It was almost like a voice actually spoke to her.

She heard, "You're making that sandwich for me."

She started to cry.

She didn't know what else to do.

So, still crying, she put more peanut butter.

Then she made up a little bag of "kid treats" to go with it.  Raisins, Vienna sausages, and the like. She took it and the sandwich to the lady.

I'm so grateful for my children.
They're all trying to live the truths of the gospel.
Larry and I may be raggedy old converts but our kids are covering up a multitude of our sins.

Sometimes with peanut butter and jelly.

May Heavenly Father always bless and protect them while they do what they can.
May He always bless and protect you and your efforts too.

The Alarm Clock of Youth

Why, oh why, must children remember the very things about their childhood that you wish them to forget? And why, oh why, don't they recall the many wonderful things, (I'm sure there must have been many), that are worth remembering?

My kids are all grown. One day, I was feeling uncharacteristically wistful about those long, lost days when they were newer.  I asked one who turned out well to tell me about a childhood memory.  I was looking for validation that I'd been a good mother, that I'd been a light in little childish lives.

Take my advice.  Don't do this. You may be sorry.

Dear daughter cheerfully replied that one of her most vivid memories as a young girl was being awakened every morning by the ringing sounds of pots and pans clanging together. This was coming from the kitchen. Then every so often,  after a particularly loud crash,  the shrill voice of her lovely mother would cry out in exasperation,  "Damnation!"

She doesn't recall that I was all alone out there, in the dawn's early light,  making breakfast and packing lunches for the rest of the still sleeping members of the family.  No, of course not.   All this before I had to get ready for work too.  Never mind that I wasn't cussing AT anybody for Pete's sake!  Plus, I didn't think anyone was listening, but that doesn't matter either.  She just remembers what she calls, "The alarm clock of my youth."  5:00 AM she said.  It never failed.  For years she awoke to the sound of pots and pans crashing loudly and "Damnation!" ringing out from the kitchen of our "little house in the big woods."  Now whenever she hears anybody shout, "Damnation!" she thinks of me.   Great.   Happy mother's day.

After this distressing little tale I asked her to tell about something nice.  A beautiful memory.  Something precious that we'd shared as mother and daughter.

She thought hard and said with a bright smile, "Nothing comes to mind off the top of my head."

If you still have kids at home think about this.  Let it be a lesson to you.  Children have very selective memories and good hearing.  And regret has a bitter taste in old age.

Watch yourself.

What Goes Around Keeps Coming Around

Since I retired from teaching three years ago I've given up on keeping up.

With local and national news broadcasts that is.

I used to watch every night.  You know....mindless, habitual viewing.....6:00 news with dinner, 10:00 news before bed.  But now that I've had time to think about it, I decided that as far as knowing what's going on, ignorance can indeed be bliss.

This began when I really paid attention to what was being put out there. It was negative, biased, incorrect, and usually depressing.  Almost always.  What's more, nearly all of it was outside my area of influence. There was never a thing I could do to help those poor souls involved in the latest shooting or drug bust, but still my stomach churned and my heart ached for the victims.  The despair never made my life any better.  And "knowing the news" never helped me to be a more effective person either.  In fact, I began to look suspiciously on more of my neighbors than deserved it.  And to make unkind judgments on whole categories of people.  Like media folks.  I'm sure some of them must mean well.

So now I pray hard and help whomever I can around me. And then I donate to organizations who may be able to make a difference to the rest. When being informed in order to be a good citizen seems important, I find other sources.

It was truly amazing how much peace came into my life with this one simple, "No news is good news" change. The sun rose a little brighter.  A positive viewpoint was easier to find.  It actually reduced the number of little pills I had to swallow for stomach and blood pressure problems!

In any case it seems like there's nothing ever really new anyway. The same old issues just keep coming around again and again. It makes me feel like we're not learning from our mistakes, which is depressing in itself, and one of the biggest mistakes of all.

Now my daughters tell me that an old issue is making headlines again involving the church.  It's about women and the priesthood.  I remember when this was part of the news cycle decades ago, back when I was a young woman new to the gospel. It concerned me then because, as a Mormon, I was being taught that God is perfectly just. I learned that we may not be able to see it now, but one day we'll all say,  "Father was fair with me."  It was distressing to hear that some felt the church to be discriminatory.  I needed to know.  So I read church teachings about this very thing.  I studied scriptures. What's more I tried to live the life of a Latter Day Saint woman. Somebody said that was the real test of the truth.

One day when I was trying to live that life something happened.  I was asked to substitute in a Sunday school class. It was for kids around 9 years old and called "Valiants" I think.  Ordinarily I'd try to get out of this kind of thing but as I said I was trying to walk the LDS walk to "see for myself" as a test.  So I said yes. Some frantic sister with sick kids dropped off a manual and gave me the lesson number. Late Saturday night I finally opened it to see what I was supposed to try to teach a bunch of rowdy 9 year olds in the morning.
I've remembered that lesson for decades now.

It was about what you can know for sure when you see any human being on earth. No matter what the circumstances you can know this is true. I remember three main points.

First, everybody you see is a child of God. The literal offspring of deity. (Think about that for a long time before going on to the next thing. It's deep.)

Second, since they're here on earth, everybody you see chose the Lord's plan once. In the pre-existence they voted with Father. So, no matter what they're doing now they chose right then. Too, since these are the last days and many valiant spirits have been saved for this time because of the great need, it's possible that they may be one of them.

Last, we know what Father said in the scriptures,   "Thou shall not esteem one flesh above another."
Not "All men are created equal." No mention of male/female, rich/poor, black/ white, broken/whole or any other categories.  Just flesh.  And esteem.

So.

This is what Mormons are teaching their children. All the little LDS kids around the world were being taught this same lesson. Not just word of mouth either, but published right there in all the manuals printed in every language.  Many of them would go home to families and be asked, "What did you learn in church today? Then a bunch of nine year olds would share eternal truths all over the world. Millions of people being taught these things in every country and culture.

So.

But what about those sisters in the news, the ones upset because only men were given the priesthood in the church? If Father loves all flesh equally can this be fair?

Then something else happened to me personally that I believe was a heaven sent blessing and message.  It was a sacred experience and I share it only in the hope that it may help someone else. It's not part of church teachings.

I had a baby.

And while giving birth I had a special experience. Though I've had several children, this only happened one time.

Right in the middle of the last stages of labor my thought processes turned to eternal things.  I seemed to be an observer of what was going on around me. I remember thinking and feeling,   "There's another person, not just a baby, but a person with a past and a future, who is coming THROUGH  ME,  right at this moment.  God is using my body to send someone to earth."  I began to think of how special the physical connections of childbirth were.  A bond between mother, child and God.  A special blessing reserved only for women.  A sacred experience that men cannot share. Suddenly I was sorry for my husband who could never feel what I was feeling!   Yes, while in labor I felt sorry for men!  They were missing out on one of life's greatest gifts. Then the pain came back and my attention was directed elsewhere.

That was all. That was the experience. Strange for sure.

I didn't know it then but that was only half of it.

Sometime later I was witness to a priesthood blessing, certainly not unusual and something I'd done before. I believe a little child was sick and was receiving a blessing of healing. As the men with the Holy Priesthood placed their hands on the girl's head I glanced up.

Then the oddest thing happened. Thoughts came rushing back to me from the delivery room!
There it is! I thought. Those men are putting their hands on a child's head and physically blessing her to be healed. Surely one of life's greatest gifts! Something reserved only for men. The laying on of hands. A sacred bond between them, the child, and God. Blessings of comfort, courage, healing, and sometimes miracles given by Father's faithful sons.

So I needn't have felt sorry for my brothers. I knew then in my heart and soul that Father is indeed perfectly fair to his children.

Just a note about a related subject.

Once I heard somebody say that LDS women are discriminated against by LDS men generally and not allowed to reach their full potential.

After I quit laughing I'll give them some input.

I advise them to walk the walk of a Mormon woman and see.

I have three daughters and eight granddaughters, all walking the walk.  I asked some of them about this very thing and this is what I found.

Never,  never,  never,  have any of them, ever, been encouraged to be anything less than their best selves. In fact, most often we are admonished to be better than we think we can possibly be. We are vigorously taught to develop all of our God given talents. We are exhorted to become as highly educated as our circumstances will allow. If formal education isn't possible then we're urged to study on our own, by candlelight if that's all there is!  We are counseled that we must read and learn "from the best books," in every subject. We are to be knowledgeable, accomplished, and to use our talents in every way to help make our homes and the world a better place.

I even remember one Relief Society lesson where the point was made that some of our talents may be hidden. We were advised to be diligent, discover them, magnify them along with the ones we knew about already, and then get busy using them to bless the lives of others!  In addition, all the while we're doing this we're to seek after everything that is beautiful, lovely and of good report.

Victims of discrimination? Not allowed to become all we wish to become?
Truth be told, some of the females in my family suggested that they could use a little rest from trying to reach their full potentials. Many times, I too have longed for a nap, but instead have been out there trying to develop something.

All the women in my family can testify of the truth of what I say.  I know they can because they're all tired.  Indeed all Mormons are taught from the cradle to reach for everything that they may become.
And when that reach pulls a hamstring we're instructed in first aid so we'll soon be well and back at it!

Sex, sex, and more sex

Sex seems to be everywhere these days. And often in the strangest
places too.
I'm old now so I've finally figured out some important things about this popular topic.  I thought I'd share because one thing I know for sure is that there's a whole lot of people out there who are doing it wrong.

Another thing is that sooner or later they'll figure this out too.
And then they'll be sorry.

How do I know they'll be sorry?
Because you can't sin against truth and be happy that's why.
Every person on earth is born with the light of Christ and knows deep in their hearts when something is wrong. You simply can't do sex wrong and not know it. No matter what people may say, they know.
No matter how much money they make or how popular they are, if they're doing sex wrong they know it.

I noticed this among my high school students. (You can read more about this knowing thing in an earlier post called, "Pornography is a Lie." It's about a test I once gave to a bunch of teens who regularly viewed porn.)

Anyway, generally my students who were messing around with unwise substances like drugs or alcohol were often troubled and unhappy. But I noticed that those who got involved with casual sex were more than just that. Sometimes they ended up feeling so deep down worthless that life seemed to them not even worth living. Why? What made being wrong about sex so much more damaging?
Well, maybe it's because of the sacred nature of sexual relations itself. Of all the aspects of being human, the truth about this one really needs to be lived if a person wants a chance at true happiness.

So what are some truths about sex that we know.

First of all,  men and women are not the same.
This might seem obvious but a lot of folks out there don't understand this very basic concept. And it turns out the sexes are different not only physically but in their very natures.
I'm okay with this since Heavenly Father has said, "Thou shall not esteem one flesh above another."
He loves both his male and female children. They're different but equally valued.
Simple as this sounds, believe it or not, this "esteeming equally" is a radical idea in many cultures.

I understand these truths about sex and yet I'm still surprised at how often I'm still surprised. After all this time too.
It makes no sense, I know, but my husband's view of the world is very often SO not mine.

I used to think he was just plain wrong. "How could he possibly think that?
I often wondered, sometimes loudly, "What in the world is the matter with him?"
But I know that he's not wrong so much as he's just "Male."
With a capital "M."

He sees things as blue.   I see them as yellow.
But something happens when we see things together.
By some strange and mysterious power the world becomes green!
Then we have a case of the sum of the two becoming more than the sum of the parts.
Somehow one and one makes three!

That's part of why a marriage needs to be between a male and a female I think. Perhaps it has not only to do with sex but also to do with gender and its accompanying nature and point of view.
You can only get green by mixing blue and yellow.
Two blues just make more blue, two yellows and there's still only yellow.
Without both sexes involved in the process you always end up with only one.

It takes a male and a female to equal more than the math would seem possible.

Now about the sex itself. What are some truths about that?

Well, sex is a gift from God to his children who are married.
It's a great gift too. One that should be used as often as possible and appropriate for maximum happiness.
Some of life's greatest blessings come to people through it's use.

For one thing, becoming "one" with another human being isn't possible in any other way.
This doesn't mean only physically either.
When husbands and wives feel safe and brave enough to share what's most tender and vulnerable about themselves, their very souls can touch.
That's when they can really come to "know" each other.
And "knowing" one another is how the scriptures often describes sex, isn't it?
That doesn't happen with meaningless physical encounters.

And when Heavenly Father gets involved, children and grandchildren can come into your life.
Sex becomes a sacred light with power to light other lights. One of life's greatest blessings for sure.

There's another aspect of sex that doesn't seem to be common knowledge.  It's a critical element missing from every kind of casual sex.

What so many don't know is that to be done properly every single act of sex must be accompanied by a "tie that binds."   A small, silver thread that goes around a man and a woman and holds them together afterwards.

The sex itself might involve tenderness or hilarity, grand passion or therapy, recreation or routine.  Even those, "You better make it quick, Mister, the kids will be home soon," count. That part doesn't matter. What matters is the binding.

That thread must be there.

Those threads, combined with all the others that come with sharing a life with someone, hold a man and woman together more surely than a single rope ever could.

All those people out there leaving out that little silver thread that binds do so at great peril to their happiness.
Father intended sex to be a source of joy to his beloved children. But when the bond is missing it can become the opposite.
Instead of joy, those who steal the gift from Father find shame and bitter regret.

I believe the scriptures say something about, "Will a man rob God?"
Well, money's not all that can be stolen.
Universal truth applies here, perhaps more than in any other area of life.

I remember one of my daughters telling me of a teaching moment she had with one of her troubled high school students. He was really struggling with these issues and had asked her advice.
She thought a long time about it and then told him simply, "You can't do wrong and feel right."
She could tell by the look on his face that his conscience had just convicted him. He knew the truth.

No place in life does truth apply more surely than it does with sex. You simply can't do sex wrong and feel right.

So.  Many sincere and heartfelt thanks for that most wonderful wedding gift from Father. May we understand it's truth and always live it.
May we be blessed with great joy when we do.

Once I Saw...

The holidays approach.   So here's a tip.
When extended families get together the world will be a better place if controversial topics like politics aren’t served up along with the turkey. 

To avoid contention and indigestion you can play a lovely game called “Once I Saw.”  It’s very simple and all ages can play. 
Everyone thinks of a special sight in their memory bank that will stay with them forever because it was so beautiful or unexpected. Then they take turns sharing it. I’ll give you some examples.

The first winter that our desert dweller family lived in the mountains of Arizona was full of amazing new experiences. Those of you who’ve lived in cold climates perhaps would use a different word. 
We had moved from an almost always sunny city, some have even called it relentlessly sunny, to a tiny, sometimes snowbound fishing cabin in the woods of Forest Lakes.  Everybody we knew thought we were nuts, by the way. And I was pretty sure they were right.  
Annual snowfall in Forest Lakes was about nine feet altogether. Some of us in the family had never even seen snow actually falling before, only patches on day trips. Our only heat was a wood stove. 
I learned later that locals had bets placed on how many days after the first storm we'd last. I don't know if they meant stay or survive.
Anyhow, the snow thing brought me many “once I saws,” and I’m grateful for all of them. 
One time, after a storm left us over two feet of snow, I pulled on my new WalMart moon and snow boots and began to trudge my way slowly to the road to see if the plow had been by. The clouds had broken up and were clearing, and the sky was that impossible cobalt mountain blue with sunshine so bright it made everything sparkle. Lots of little, puffy, white clouds were drifting by. My cheeks and nose stung with the cold but everywhere else I was wrapped up and warm. Then, I looked up to see that inside each cloud there was a rainbow floating along inside it! An actual, perfect, miniature rainbow in each and every cloud! I suppose the sun was shining through ice crystals or something but it was a beautiful miracle to see. I never saw it again in all the years we lived there.

Surprisingly, that wood stove heating thing brought a “once I saw.” 
It took some adjustment but it turned out that we were never cold if we kept even the smallest fire burning. In fact we often had to open windows a bit to keep from getting too warm. I suppose it helped that the house was so tiny. Anyway, Larry’s and my bed was right under a window and one clear night as I got under the pile of comforters and put my feet on him to keep them warm, I opened the window just a ways for ventilation and high-tech temperature control. After a wonderful, snug night we awoke to the sight of a dusting of powdery, white snow covering the blankets for about six inches just past our noses. A storm had come up while we slept and had blown snow in through the screen where it landed softly while we slept.
Icicles were also an intriguing novelty to desert rats. They grew longer, drip by drip throughout the winter, with all of us watching them finally go from roof to ground by February. Then one morning, after a wet snowfall, we made our way to the car to head the 17 miles to school, and there on all the low branches of the huge ponderosa pines which surrounded the house were perfect little icicles sparkling in the morning light. They were everywhere. It seemed as if elves had come to decorate the whole forest during the night!

Animals make great “Once I Saws” too. 
Once, while walking on a beach in Florida I looked back to see Larry standing on a rise shouting and pointing out to sea.  I turned just in time to see the huge black and white belly of a whale as it made a perfect semi-circle in the air.  Then it crashed with a mighty splash back into the Atlantic.
Another time I was standing on a cliff overlooking the Pacific. We had just visited Cabrillo lighthouse near San Diego and had stopped to see the spectacular view. I stood on the bluff, a strong wind coming off the ocean. I turned my head to the right to find a seagull standing still in mid-air. It was exactly at my eye level, about four feet away, wings outstretched, not moving a feather, gliding on the strong sea breeze as it moved inland. Then it turned only its head to look straight at me. After several seconds it leaned to the right and flew off into the wind. A brief encounter that will last a lifetime.

Then again I’ll always remember a mama bear and two cubs as they took off in a lumbering run through a ravine as we drove down a dusty dirt road on our way to gather pinon nuts. And once I found a skunk eating cat food on the front porch while a kitten stood on its back legs taking playful swipes at his gorgeous, fluffy tail. And there were often bald eagles roosting on a snag just off the highway next to the Circle K. 
One afternoon a herd of mule deer once suddenly appeared in our yard out of nowhere. They stood grazing silently just a few feet away when I turned with the hose to water the irises. They'd never made a sound. 
And one morning as we were getting ready for school an enormous bull elk with a huge antler rack raised his majestic head from the flower bed just two feet outside the living room window. A young daughter sitting inside suddenly exclaimed in alarm, “Holy Schnickey!”

There are lots of desert “once I saws” too.  I even have one from my brother that I never actually witnessed. He told me about a time when his family was boating up at Lake Powell. He says it’s astonishingly beautiful. They sailed under a red rock arch where water was trickling in a sparkling shower down to the lake below. His boys jumped in to swim under the drops which he said looked like thousands of diamonds. Then they just starting laughing as they dog-paddled under the gems dropping on their heads. Words failed, I guess.

I’ve often wanted to go there to see for myself. But then I know that’s not possible. Moments like that are gifts that only happen once.

The scriptures teach us that Heavenly Father made the beautiful things of the world to gladden the eye and delight the heart of man. Father sends “once I saws” to each of us as reminders I think. Reminders that he’s there. That he loves us and wants us to be happy. That no matter how hard, life can sometimes be incredibly beautiful.

Yes, precious little gifts from God. That’s what a “once I saw” is. I think all of us have been given some of these, and sadly sometimes miss them for one reason or another. We need to appreciate what they truly are. Tender mercies. Love notes from Father.

Once I saw. 
Share some of yours with family and friends this holiday season. Listen to some of theirs. It will make for far better conversation than politics, I promise.

A Life That Touched For Good

I’ve been thinking about the words to that lovely hymn we sing called, “Each Life That Touches Ours For Good.” 
Those thoughts keep rolling through my mind because a man who lived an extraordinary life just completed his earthly mission a short while ago. 
I don’t usually name names in my scribblings, but this time I will. His name was President Lewis Tenney. He was a Stake President and later a Temple President but much more than that for those who knew him. In my case, I noticed right after meeting him that he had an amazing quality. 
Each and every time our paths crossed, even if only briefly, somehow I was blessed.

You see, I am a raggedy old convert, which President Tenney knew…. and he was…..well…..President Tenney. He was an honorable, stalwart, valiant leader in the Church and one of the most respected men in all of northern Arizona. He and his dear wife Mary raised a large and exemplary family. Yet somehow that great man managed to bless me every time we met.

May I share a little incident or two to show you what I mean?

Once I was asked to speak at a large meeting of Relief Society sisters in Show Low, Arizona. Now, you must understand that the mountain towns and their surroundings are full of amazing LDS women. Many of the sisters who live up there have ancestors who came west pulling handcarts and it was truly puzzling to me as to why they wanted to hear anything I might have to say. I was nervous and felt completely inadequate.

On the day of the conference I put on my best dress and my daughter and I headed for Show Low. As we proceeded along Highway 260 I noticed a spot on the very front of my white top, so we stopped at Circle K to get a wet napkin to try to clean it. I took the napkin and began to rub the spot, not noticing that I was rubbing the ink from “Circle K” which was printed on the napkin, right into the cloth. I ended up with a big purple stain on the front of my dress. Nothing could be done now.

I sat up front with the rest of the speakers, including President Tenney, and nervously waited my turn. When my turn came I felt I really needed to explain the spot, so I told them, and added my reservations about being included with the others who were speaking that day. I pointed out that every other woman on the stand was impeccably put together and, in addition, had a waist, unlike myself. Also, I said with special anxiety, there sits President Tenney. I then gave my talk.

When it was time for President Tenney to speak he began with the most remarkable words. He said,  “Sister Wagher has inspired me to tell you something that I don’t share with many people.” (Me? Inspire him? How could that be?) Then he continued as I remember, saying something like the following. “Once I was in a similar situation,” he began. “I had a day crammed full of important Church meetings and had to travel many miles between them. I hurried from one meeting  to the next and was rushing to get into my truck when I heard my pants rip. I couldn’t tell by the sound how bad the situation was and due to my tight schedule I started off without investigating the rip. While driving, I decided to lean over to try to see if I could “get away” with these pants or if I had to go home to change them. As I was leaning over I drove off the road and had a minor accident. To make matters worse, when someone asked me later what made me drive off the road, (was it an elk or a deer?),  I said due to embarrassment, 'I don’t know.' It was just too hard to admit the truth.”

The audience chuckled at this dear man but I was touched to my very soul. 
A person such as this with a rip in his pants and a fib to boot! Admitting it to the whole world! I couldn’t believe that someone so far along in the teachings of the gospel, someone with such a long list of accomplishments, could ever feel like I did. 
I felt blessed by President Tenney’s candor that day with something special. I’ve looked for the exact word to describe that blessing. I think I’ve found it. 
The word is encouraged.

Another memory involves a time we were at Girl’s Camp. I was called as a Mutual teacher but had never had the smallest experience with camp. I was not only a raggedy convert but also a city slicker. Here we were digging fire pits to bury vats of food to dig up hours later for dinner, rubbing sticks together to make a fire and doing all kinds of choppings of wood, and stirrings of cast iron spider pans and other weird things. I was out of my element and covered with poison oak on top of it all.

One afternoon,  President Tenney and I were left to tend several pots of meat and gravy while the girls and other leaders went off to do something. He was sitting on a table watching the fire carefully as I clumsily removed each cast iron lid and stirred the contents as I had been told to do. As I lifted one lid, a gust of wind brought a shower of ashes to land in the gravy bubbling in the pot.
I looked up in horror at President Tenney. 
What an idiot he must think I am! He can see that I know nothing about anything and now I’ve ruined dinner for half the girls! 
He looked at me with a smile and said “Sister Wagher, if you just stir those ashes right into the gravy no one will know and I won’t tell.” 
The look on his face was priceless. It said …..“You’re going to be alright. You can learn this. It’s OK to make mistakes.” 
 I gratefully began to stir and then to marvel. The Stake President wasn’t shocked at my ignorance! He somehow understood. I really could do better someday. I could do better with lots of things someday! There it was again. 
I was encouraged.

Encouraged. Strengthened. Understood. And accepted anyway. These were all blessings I received from knowing President Tenney. I know there must be thousands of other people who benefited from his remarkable life.

His dear, sweet wife Mary has a broken heart today. The only true comfort will come when she is able to hold him in her arms, alive and well, once more. Thanks to the atonement and resurrection of the Savior this will surely happen. Christ has blessed the Tenneys with unending love and the assurance that their family will endure beyond time. 
Only for now their children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren will miss their father and grandfather terribly, as will the rest of his wonderful family and many friends. Not forever. 
I hope they know that hundreds of prayers for peace and comfort are being sent to Father on their behalf, and that love comes to each of them from all over the state. 
How special they must be to be able to claim such a man as their own.

President Lewis Tenney’s life was surely one that touched others for good. Generations to come will bless his name as he blessed those he crossed paths with every day. I will always be grateful to have known him.