Captured by its Charm

This is the Potomac River as it winds through western Maryland, dividing it from West Virginia. The splotch in the middle of the photo is a tiny unincorporated community known as Little Orleans. It captured my heart the first time I was there, not for it's beauty, but because of its uniqueness. It was a step back in time.

One summer in the mid 1980's our Seneca Stake Young Women chose this area for some of the activities associated with that year's Young Women's camp. I don't remember who was in charge -- I was a ward leader -- nor how they found this quaint little "town", but I'm so glad they did. Our all day canoe trip began and ended here. There may have been homes in the vicinity, but I don't remember seeing any -- they were probably hidden in the wooded hills. There was a small primitive campground just down the road.






What charmed me most about Little Orleans, besides the feeling of stepping back in time to a simpler time, was the building pictured above. First of all, you can see this is a "vintage" building with little if any redeemable value. It had a worn wooden floor and, in the summer, squeaky double screen doors. There was a porch, not visible in the photo, that had rocking chairs or a swing on it. This building is the essence of Little Orleans. It was the mayor's office. It was the gas station, the grocery store, and the greasy spoon restaurant. It was the canoe livery, and the one stop shop for hunting and fishing licenses. It was the pool hall and local bar. There may have even been rooms to rent upstairs. Though I don't know who would have wanted to stay there, or how they would have found the place. Little Orleans is off the beaten track. Not exactly a honeymoon spot. Still, there was something about it that still won't leave me alone.

A few years after our Young Women canoe trip, Bob and I set out to re-discover Little Orleans and were pleased to find it unchanged from that magical summer day.

Somebody's having a birthday...

... and fortunately, it's not me. It's our daughter, Gayle, the light of our life. Several years ago on a cold, snowy night in Ohio, this girl was born and nothing has been the same since. Bob and I often have joked that since she was born on the night of a total eclipse of the moon, there has to be something really special about her. Well there is, but it has nothing to do with moons or eclipses. As all children do, she came to this earth with her own unique personality -- full of love, humor, determination, excitement, and more. Life is never dull with Gayle in the picture. And for that, and especially for her, we are grateful.



Gayle and Bill. Today while Gayle was having lunch with a few of her friends, in walked Bill with this bouquet of balloons. I wonder, but forgot to ask, if she slithered down into the chair like she did at Farrell's Ice Cream when several of their waiters came to the table to sing to her when we celebrated her 9th birthday. I'm sure she blushed and felt special, but she's not one who cares to be the center of attention.








Cori and Gayle. Late this afternoon, Cori came over to Gayle's to bring this "wabbie" from another friend, RaCail, and her. Made with love, and embroidered "Happy __th Birthday, Gayle, Love from Cori and RaCail". I'm sure Gayle will feel the warmth of friends' love each time she curls up with her "wabbie".

Become an Engaged Citizen

Yesterday the House of Representatives passed a huge "stimulus" bill ($819 Billion), that is filled with billons of dollars of wasteful government spending that will do nothing to stimulate the economy. Fortunately, our Representative, Jason Chaffetz, joined the rest of the Republican house members in voting against the bill in a show of solidarity for sound economic practices. The bill now moves to the Senate and will be voted on early next week. While some government involvement in stimulating the economy is called for, rampant spending in and of itself is not a solution.

If you want to play an active part in determining the direction of our country at this critical time, please take the time to contact your senators. Here's a link that will take you to a website that makes it very easy to do that. Our government officials prefer email as a way for you to communicate with them, and I can promise you that I have seen evidence that flooding our senators and representatives with emails does indeed affect their vote.

Here's a link to help you contact your elected officials:

http://capwiz.com/gopusa/issues/alert/?alertid=12515966&PROCESS=Take+Action

(I'm sorry that you'll have to cut and paste into your browser because the link feature isn't working for me.)

Please don't delay. Get involved. YOU CAN make a difference.

Daisy

A sweet face

So, what do you think this little guy is thinking?

Sabbath Musings

Bob and I were invited to spend a few days in Palm Desert with Gayle and Bill and the kids. We left Wednesday when Bob came home from work, arrived early Thursday morning, and spent two heavenly days in the sunshine and warm with five of the people we love most dearly in the world. Didn't do anything earth-shattering, but rather just relaxed while the kids played in the pool. Yesterday morning after briefly visiting the weekly street fair at College of the Desert, we got in our car, and they in theirs, and headed back this direction.

I had planned to be away thru Sunday evening at least, so I had let our Primary President, Sister Ashton, know I wouldn't be at church today. Bob and I planned to stop overnight in St. George and visit Snow Canyon this morning before heading back to Provo. But when we got there last night, I looked at him, and he looked at me, we shrugged our shoulders and decided to come all the way home last night.

This morning when we awoke to more fluffy white stuff on the ground, I admit my first thought was "they don't even know I'm home and I really don't want to go out in this. I could just stay home." Well, no I couldn't. I really wanted to. Really. But I found that I really wanted to go to church more than I wanted to stay home. And that was a very good feeling.

I received several immediate blessings from that decision. The first was the privilege of partaking of the Sacrament. The week always goes better. I think this week will be the same. Secondly, Brother Sorensen's talk on kindness gave me much to think about. By profession he is a psychologist, and besides the scriptural references he used (1 Corinthians 13:1-13, which is one of my very favorite passages of scripture, probably because I really need to work on it in my life), he also shared a few experiences that he has had over the years where kindness has made a difference for someone. I wish I could remember all that he said and had the time and energy to repeat all that I can remember. But I will not take the time now. But he showed by these examples that "charity never faileth" (1 Cor. 13:8) Being kind changes us, whether we are on the giving or receiving end of the act(s) of kindness.

Another of the blessings I received was to witness one of these tiny acts of kindness when I walked into the Primary room. Our dear Sister Baker, the sister who comes into Primary each week to present our birthday children, also has a birthday this week. One of the children who was to be recognized today for her own birthday came to the back of the room where Sister Baker was standing before Primary began, and quietly slipped into her hand a decorative cellophane bag containing cookies or some other goodies to her with a hug and a "Happy Birthday, Sister Baker." What a sweet, thoughtful thing for this 9 year old girl to do.

Sister Seifert is our chorister and music leader. Today she dressed as a grandma, shawl draped over her hunched shoulders and a white cottonball wig covered her own youthful dark hair. She sat in a rocking chair with her knitting and proceded to tell the children the Plan of Salvation through music. A song the children have been learning is "I Lived in Heaven" Sis. Seifert, in her own inimitable way, played the part of a story-telling-Granny and taught the children Heavenly Father's Plan of Happiness through this song. The children were completely engaged, and to tell you the truth, so was I. What a blessing it is to know that Heavenly Father has a plan for us, as His children, and that because of the Saviour, we can return to live with Him again, with our families. What a blessing it is that our children are being taught not just in church, but also and more importantly, in their homes.

This evening we went to Gayle and Bill's to celebrate Carter's birthday. Another of the countless blessings I am grateful for are my thoughtful and kind daughter and son-in-law and my three precious grandchildren. I can't imagine my life without them.

I'm grateful for the Sabbath, and this has been a particularly sweet day for me. I hope it has been for you, too.

Inauguration Day

It's difficult to put into words what my heart is feeling today.

So let me just say this: I love my country, and I want what is best for her. We all do. The difference comes in our individual definitions of "best", and how we believe is the way to achieve our own concept of "best".

Some words from one of my own favorite presidents:

History is a ribbon, always unfurling. History is a journey. And as we continue our journey, we think of those who traveled before us...and we see and hear again the echoes of our past: a general falls to his knees in the hard snow of Valley Forge; a lonely president paces the darkened halls and ponders his struggle to preserve the Union; the men of the Alamo call out encouragement to each other; a settler pushes west and sings a song, and the song echoes out forever and fills the unknowing air. It is the American sound. It is hopeful, big-hearted, idealistic, daring, decent, and fair. That's our heritage, that's our song. We sing it still. For all our problems, our differences, we are together as of old. We raise our voices to the God who is the author of this most tender music. And may He continue to hold us close as we fill the world with our sound--in unity, affection, and love--one people under God, dedicated to the dream of freedom that He has placed in the human heart, called upon now to pass that dream on to a waiting and hopeful world.

-- Ronald Reagan, second inaugural address --


May God bless our new President. May he be humble and wise, a man of integrity who takes seriously the oath he made to uphold the Constitution of this great nation. May we take seriously our responsibilities as citizens.

God bless America.

Journal in a Box

I left my hometown in 1976 when Bob joined the Army and we moved to Texas. Three doors down from us in Toledo lived a family who had become part of our lives – Becky was my “backdoor friend”. We visited each other daily, a knock and a ”Becky!” or “Pam!” called through the screen, and then sometimes hours sitting at one another’s kitchen tables talking over kids and work and neighborhood gossip.

Becky’s daughters, Maggie, Pam and Karin, though older than Gayle, were an important part of her early childhood. Gayle, Pam and Karin played together daily, along with other neighborhood kids. It was Pam who convinced Gayle to give her brand new Pooh Bear a bath in the wading pool in our backyard, and Maggie who occasionally tended her when I had somewhere to go. Maggie also taught 4-year-old Gayle to ride a bike. When it was obvious I was going to be leaving the neighborhood and my home, it was almost as painful to leave Becky and other close friends as it was to leave my family.

There were hugs and sadness when Gayle and I left on that chilly November morning, and Becky and I promised to write one another. At some point we even had promised to save one another’s letters so that when we got old and gray, we would trade back our letters, and thereby would each have a record of what had transpired in our lives – a journal, of sorts, in a box.

This morning I opened my cedar chest of treasures and found a box of letters that isn’t with the other many boxes of letters stacked on a shelf in the basement. I pulled out one from Dad, advice that I had asked for and received many years ago. I found one from Mom, more solicited advice, and gentle encouragement to weather the storms of early marriage. I found a “Member Request Form” sent to me by the Church in the 1980’s when a friend had lost track of me and requested the Church’s help. We did finally catch up with each other, a continent apart. I found a letter from Sister Mary Coletta, a Catholic nun who had become a dear friend to Bob and me when we took children on weekend outings from St. Anthony Villa when we yearned for children, but didn’t have any in the early days of our marriage. And there were, of course, many letters from Becky. I pulled one out and read it, and memories flooded me. We’re still friends, though we have converted to writing emails, not so often, hurried catch-ups written in just a few minutes rather than the sometimes many-day epistles of the old days.

This is the day of email, and so few handwritten letters between friends and family members. Emails are often just forwarded messages of friendship, warning, or humor. When they are personal messages of substance, they often become victims of the “Delete” button. The typed page lacks the warmth and charm of flowered stationery and personal handwriting. Still, I save them, print them and keep them, someone else’s “journal in a box”.

Primary Blessings

They stood patiently outside the Primary room door, waiting for the room to empty of the other ward's children so they could go in. Seven year old Landon had his arm around 3 year old Oakley, and with his face close to his brother's ear, I could only assume he was speaking comforting words. Oakley looked a little apprehensive, though stalwart and tearless. This was Oakley's third Sunday in Primary. It must have seemed overwhelming after spending Sundays for the past 18 months in the cocoon-like Nursery. The Primary room is so much larger, and the almost seventy children can be intimidating. Even to the adults who serve there. His mother had come to Primary with him last week and the week before, and had sat on a tiny chair in the front row holding him securely on her lap. This week, she quietly told me where she would be, in the event that Oakley needed her. With a brother like Landon, he was in good hands.

Landon guided Oakley to his front row seat, and abandoning his own class to support his brother, sat with his arm wrapped snugly around his little brother's shoulders. Oakley made it easily through the opening prayer, scripture and talk, Sister Jensen's animated Sharing Time about testimony, and with Landon's help raising and waving his arm, was selected as a helper during Sister Seifert's music time.

As the time came for the older children to return to the Primary room and the younger ones to go to their classrooms for a lesson, I slipped out to help keep order in the hallway in the exchange. With the door open about halfway, from the hall eleven year old Connor caught a glimpse of Oakley, whose composure has melted away despite Landon's best efforts. Connor told me, "My brother needs me. Can I go in?" Of course.

I didn't see the rescue, but I know it was tender. Mom was summoned, and all was well.

Not all interactions between children in Primary are this heartwarming. Truly these are Heavenly Father's children and seeing them treat each other with such love and kindness is the blessing of being in the Primary organization.

Color Me White

A few weeks ago, our ward moved into a new building temporarily while our building is being updated to earthquake standards. The new building we’re meeting in, sharing with two other wards, is a substantially newer building, much more modern.

Knowing this chapel is much smaller than ours, and not wanting to sit in the overflow section, I went to church early and claimed a seat near the back of the chapel. I looked around. One of the first things I noticed, other than the general newness of the building, were these lights.

Crayons. They look like huge white crayons hung from the ceiling. How appropriate. We come to Sacrament Meeting to be cleansed from our shortcomings, mistakes and sins of the previous week, as we partake of the emblems of the Lord’s Supper, repent and covenant to take upon ourselves His name, to keep His commandments, and to always remember Him.

The blood of our Savior "colors us white". I am grateful.


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Sisters in Zion

Today Sarah and Lynne hosted a luncheon for the three sisters they Visit Teach, Maisel,

Genny


and me. They visit us each month individually, bringing their love, friendship, and a spiritual message but this time, they planned this special visit where we could all get together. It was such fun!

Sarah is about 7 months pregnant, so Lynne prepared the food, and Sarah hosted the gathering at her lovely home. She left her Christmas decorations up to catch a remnant of the season. Here's her gorgeous tree -- comparable to some of the most lovely ones I've seen at Festival of the Trees. She designed it and decorated it herself.



Lynne prepared a scrumptious salad, chicken fingers, and rolls, the recipes for which she promises to post on her blog soon. The salad was a Caesar salad generously embellished with marinated artichoke hearts, cremmi mushrooms, Lynne's own re-hydrated tomatoes (she grows small Italian tomatoes each year to dehydrate and make into savory tomatoes...mmmmmmm), as well as the black olives and freshly grated parmesan of the traditional Caesar salad. Lynne tossed the salad with a delicious garlicky dressing. We added our own "nutty chicken fingers", made with coconut and walnuts, to our individual salads. Lynne got that recipe from Carolyn, another sister in our ward. She also has duplicated Magleby's delicious rolls, rolled in butter, parmesan and parsley.


Lynne really ought to open a luncheon cafe. A very talented lady in the kitchen. Not to mention talented painter and writer.

We visited while we ate, and Sarah shared this month's message: Stand Strong and Immovable in Faith, and the scriptures that accompany it. She emphasized the quote from Elder Richard G. Scott of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles who said, "You cannot today remotely imagine what that decision to be unwaveringly obedient to the Lord will allow you to accomplish in life. Your quiet, uncompromising determination to live a righteous life will couple you to inspiration and power beyond your capacity right now to understand."
(From "Making the Right Decisions," Ensign, May 1991, 34).


Left to right: Maisel, Sarah, Lynne and Genny

The real heart of Visiting Teaching, tho, is the deep and lasting friendships and sisterhood that come as we visit each other in our homes monthly.

Thank you, Sarah and Lynne, for a really nice afternoon. I love you.

More on Unmade Resolutions

Remember how I said I wasn't going to make any resolutions this year? Well, I didn't, but all of a sudden I find myself keeping some of the ones I would have made if I were going to make them.

I think it has to do with commitment. Some people don't make commitments very easily. Maybe they're afraid of the weight of what they are committing to, or maybe they just like to take each day individually and do what they feel like doing. Unfortunately, sometimes we just don't feel like doing the things we should. That's where commitments come in handy. They lift us over the "don't wanna do that" to sliding through doing what needs to be done without hardly thinking about it. "Just do it," as President Spencer W. Kimball used to say.

I'm a little hesitant about some commitments -- the smaller less important ones. What if I forget to do something I say I'll do? What if I disappoint someone? What if I say I'll do something and then when the time comes to do it, I really don't want to? Or sometimes I'll agree to something, and then almost immediately, want to bite my tongue in regret.

So when it came to the "little things" called "resolutions" this year, I didn't write them down, and haven't spoken them out loud to myself or to anyone. But in secret I must have shared my ongoing shortcomings, spoken only in spirit, with my Heavenly Father, because I find that I'm doing better in the areas I was concerned about. He answers even the unspoken prayers. I am grateful.

The Little Things are the Big Things

This morning I noticed that our supply of toilet paper in the bathroom cupboard is dwindling. No matter. We keep a stash (though not a year’s supply) in our shed out back with other overflowed storage items. I made a mental note to remember to bring some in. A while later I went to the kitchen, and there was a huge package of 36 rolls that Bob had brought in before leaving for work long before the crack of dawn. I smiled. Bob always takes care of the Little Things. And the Big Things, too, but we all expect the Big Things to be taken care of. The Little Things are the frosting on the cake.

As an aside here, I have to mention that I had already been to the kitchen earlier in the morning and had not noticed the TP in plain sight and hard to miss because of its size. It wasn’t until I discovered a need that it “appeared”.

It was during one of our brief times apart when Bob was serving in the Army that it dawned on me that every car I drive has a bottomless well for windshield washer fluid. Maybe I was driving on a foggy day, or my windshield was dirty, but when I needed to wash my windshield, the solution appeared. I smiled and was grateful for all of the Little Things he always takes care of for me. Add to that car washes, oil changes, gasoline fill-ups and routine maintenance, and it becomes a really Big Thing. The short separations we had when he was in the Army provided the opportunity for me to remember all the often unseen little things he does for me.

Bob puts the toilet seat down. I hear jokes made about this all the time, but don’t think much about them. In 42 years of marriage, I’ve fallen in, in the dark of night, very few times. Not a Big Thing, but something I am grateful for.

He takes the garbage out regularly without being asked. Wednesday evenings, the night before trash day, he methodically goes through the entire house emptying waste baskets into a larger bag, changes cat litter, and peruses the fridge to see if leftovers are turning blue or old produce wilting and turning to mush. On the rare occasion I find the kitchen trash at the top of its container, usually because I have just finished some major cooking project at the sink, I just take it out. Asking him would be discounting all the good he does the hundreds of times between these occasional events.

Bob helps with laundry. I know that suggests that I must not do it in a timely fashion, but I can honestly say that even without his help, he would never have been without clean clothes to wear. He just likes doing the laundry. It’s a Big Thing, I know. In the early days of our marriage I didn’t always consider this a help. Many a treasured blouse was ruined, and he and I both wore pink underwear periodically in those years. And still do from time to time.

He does dishes. In all fairness, there’s no way this could be considered a Little Thing either. In the early days of our marriage, he felt the need to instruct me in the right way to do dishes. Mind you, my sister Kathie and I washed and dried the dishes by hand after dinner most evenings of our adolescent lives, and were well informed as to how to perform this task in a sanitary fashion. I’m not in the habit of leaving piles of dirty dishes for extended periods. A few hours, yes. A small number of them over night if we dirtied them in the evening and I was too tired to bother. But Bob quickly washes any dirty dish he finds in the sink. After he advised me early on that I didn’t know how to wash dishes correctly, I suggested that since he did, maybe he should wash them. We compromised. Sometimes I do the dishes, and sometimes he does, each using our own method without complaint from the other. Sometimes we do them together.

He changed diapers. His daughter’s, and all three of our grandchildren’s. He also gave baths. And played (and plays) for hours and hours down on the floor with blocks, Barbies, coloring or whatever with whoever needed (needs)a friend. Indeed, Grandpa is the playmate of choice. Ok, these aren’t Little Things either. They’re Big Things.

And I can’t even think of Bob without chuckling about his “Little Drives”. The ones that are sometimes 400 miles long. I can’t count the places I would never have been and the sights I would never have seen without his “little drives”. Because I’m not an adventurer and it would never occur to me to go some of the places he has taken me. Another Little Thing that really is a Big Thing.

Whether it be his bringing in TP from the cold dark shed, taking out the garbage, doing dishes or laundry, looking after and playing with his grandchildren or taking us on little drives, I am truly grateful for all the little things – that really are the big things – that Bob does for me and others daily without a thought. I hope to remember all these little things on my own, without a separation to remind me.

A new year.

You can see how far behind I am. It's already January 7 and I'm just mentioning the new year. If you haven't read this blog before, you probably haven't noticed that I have two previous posts that are a year overdue "to be continued" but haven't been. But I'm pressing on.

I'm not making "New Year's Resolutions" this year. I'm still working on the ones from last year, the year before that, the year before that, and probably a few that go back even further. If you haven't experienced this phenomenon, I find that each year I am making pretty much the same resolutions. So it doesn't matter which year's resolutions I'm working on, just that I'm doing it.

Yesterday morning, I called my daughter as she was getting her kids off to school. I talked with K., my 8 year old granddaughter for just a few minutes.

"Grandma, did you write in your journal last night?"

"No I didn't. Why do you ask?"

"Don't you remember our promise?"

Yikes! I hate breaking promises, and it seems my Forgetter was getting me into trouble again.

"Ooooo, I think you're going to have to remind me, honey."

"We're going to write in our journals every day this year."

"Oh, yes we are! Now I remember."

"I wrote in mine last night, Grandma."

"What did you write about?"

"Oh, just stuff."


Well, of course. Stuff. That's what I write about in my journal, and I'm not very anxious to share that either. I'm so thrilled that she remembered, that she reminded me about our pact, and most importantly, I am really thrilled that at the age of almost 9 she is starting to form an important habit.

I'm already 6 days behind this year, but thanks to K., I wrote in my journal yesterday. And I will tonight before I go to bed, and tomorrow, and the next day and the next. And every day this year. Because I promised. And because I want to.

I hope you do too. It's important. But you won't understand why until you do it for awhile. I think the same is true for making and keeping resolutions. I'll have to do that awhile to be able to report on it. Wish me luck.