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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