Daily – Sunday, 7/26/2015

Friday Matt had asked us to tend Kiara so that he could take Lilian to see Avengers 2, but after I’d packed food for us to eat at their house (no time or $$ for dinner), and had driven to Vic’s office to pick him up, Matt called and said that it wasn’t going to work that night, and Vic suggested we could help out on Saturday instead. Matt said he’d check with Lilian. We went back home, thinking about going to see Antman, but just relaxing home instead.

So Saturday, about when we were trying again to figure when we were going to see Antman, Matt called to see if we could tend, so we met them in Pleasant Grove, took over Kiara, and they went to the movie. We took her to Arby’s because Matt said she LOVES their beef sandwiches and curly fries. She ate none of either, then we found a park where there was a nifty playground, an old fenced Sons of the Utah Pioneers cabin, an old wooden bridge, PLUS a large area of sand. We played for about 45 minutes on the playground, then headed over the bridge to the sand. She spent the rest of our time there just playing in the sand, now and then with a stick. When it was time to go, I had to carry her, kicking and screaming literally, towards the car. Once she saw the playground again, and Grandpa, she was happy, until it was time to leave the playground, then Gpa got to carry her kicking and screaming from there to buckle her into her carseat, where the odor made it clear WHY she’d been so happy in the sand for so long; she’d been busy! We went to the theater parking lot where we laid her on the grass and changed a really full and gross diaper (GOOD thing I’d thought to bring wipies of my own, since Lilian hadn’t packed any.) Right about then M&L came out of the theater, and we headed home. We went to see Antman a little later – it was FUN. I’ll like it much better the second time around, since I know that no main characters die.

Kris had gone clubbing with Cousin ReNae, and we were asleep when he got home.

This morning when I went out to the living room, the front door was ajar, although the deadbolt was out, as if someone thought they’d engaged it without realizing that the door wasn’t SHUT. Weird. Then when Vic and I were headed for the car for me to take him to his 8:30am meeting, I saw Kris’s backpack over at the side of the house, with stuff scattered around it. As I looked closer, I realized I was looking at a small bong, some clumps of marijuana (I’m assuming), another empty plastic bag and little Tupperware container. I grabbed all of it and went in and tossed it on his bed. He was awake enough to be aware of what it was.

I’m still trying to digest and figure what to say or do. What would the Savior say or do?

Friday, 7/24/13

gospel thoughts

Last Monday, as we do once a month, we hosted the YSA ward Vic is attached to as the assigned High Councilman. (Provo YSA 138^th Ward, YSA 13^th Stake.) We provide the refreshments, and they provide the games and the lesson. Taylor Ellsworth gave the lesson, talking about his ancestors who were among the first in the handcart companies. He spoke of Moroni 7:37, about miracles being wrought by faith. (Behold I say unto you, Nay; for it is by faith that miracles are wrought; and it is by faith that angels appear and minister unto men; wherefore, if these things have ceased wo be unto the children of men, for it is because of unbelief, and all is vain) and shared this experience of his hand-cart ancestors:

Part of the way into their journey, their only ox sickened and died. (I’m not sure about an ox in the handcart company, but it’s Taylor’s story.) They could not hope to continue without this ox, so they made it a manner of prayer and supplication to the Lord. Not long after, one of them spotted an ox up on the crest of the hill before them. The animal permitted the men to approach him and yoke him, and he pulled their cart into the next town. After un-yoking him, they turned around and he was gone.

This wasn’t part of his lesson, but a little further into the chapter, in verse 44, it talks of, “confess(ing) by the power of the Holy Ghost that Jesus is the Christ…” I thought about that, and could only think that having that kind of testimony, that you would confess it by the power of the Holy Ghost, is a gift of the Spirit. A powerful one. I’ve heard of bearing your testimony with the power of the Holy Ghost, but the phrase about confessing it, BY THE POWER OF THE HOLY GHOST, just caught my attention and gave me some thoughts and food for reflection.

I subbed in the temple last night. I felt that the shift supervisors were a little less than warm and fuzzy; especially one. She just doesn’t appear happy, and tends to cut people off. She’s very abrupt.

Anyway, I was at my first post, which, as luck (or Tender Mercies) would have it, was in the Celestial Room. I was standing, as the Matron is a stickler for NOT sitting), and feeling a little less than warm and fuzzy myself, thinking how “subbing” frequently in the temple had lost its charm; you know, end of the honeymoon, etc. My feet and knees were already hurting, and the shift had just begun!

Then of course, owing I supposed, to the fact that I WAS standing in the Celestial Room, it was almost inevitable that the thought came to me, “Who are you working for here? WHOM are you serving? Do you seek the approval and warm fuzzies from the shift supervisors or other Temple regulars? I thought, I’d better NOT be; I’m serving to benefit my family (ref Elder Eyring’s talk about our service bringing the Lord closer to our families), to honor my descendants, so then some of the Title of Liberty phrases came into my head, but they weren’t really a good fit. So I made up my own.

.In memory of my ancestors, in service to my Savior, for the salvation and exaltation of my family.

So every time I started to become distracted by achy feet/knees, etc, I brought this theme/mantra back to my mind.

Wow, it's been almost 2 years since my last post. Oh well. Will try to update somewhat later. 

So, Vic and I served in the Provo Temple for the last 2 1/2 years, until the Payson Temple opened and we began serving here. 

Last Friday, or maybe the Friday before that, as I was hustling to fill the veil posts (yes, I'm the Friday night veil coordinator) in the ordinance worker waiting room, I finally sat down and happened to look up at the painting on the wall directly in front of me. It's of the Savior in the midst of some men and a child, obviously teaching them. They are all very attentive, and you can see their focus on what he's explaining to them. It came to me: It's a literal visual for what's going on HERE, in the temple and at the veil. HE is teaching us. He is teaching the patrons who come here. We need to pretty much stay out of the way of them being taught; not draw attention to ourselves or in any way distract from that process - that spiritual interaction. The men in the picture are not interrupting, discussing, looking away...just focusing on the teaching of the Savior. 

So now, every Friday night, I make a point of taking some time between veils, if I can, and sitting where i can focus on that picture and make myself available to be taught by the Spirit.

Last night I subbed, and had a couple of standing posts, then some down time because they'd closed Name Issue and Initiatory, so after sitting down in the snack room for a spell, I went up to the veil. Got in on the last veil of the night. It was awesome. The first couple of sisters just rattled off the veil ceremony, but the next one was more interesting. She had either tattoos or some henna designs on the back of her hands that were beautifully detailed, and her demeanor was very humble. She almost knew it all, but was still fairly hesitant. Not embarrassed, but focused entirely on what she was saying, and learning it better, and learning from it. We as veil workers LOVE that. 

The next sister was maybe in her late teens or early twenties, and had Down's syndrome. She knew her stuff, though. She stumbled only a couple of times on key words, and some of the smaller words sort of went by the wayside on account of her speech, but  she KNEW it, and it was a pleasure and an honor to be there with her. The receiver seemed to pick up on her situation early on, and was very accepting of her efforts. He seemed familiar with her, and was very smiling and loving towards her when he took her through. 

When patrons speed through the process, it's easy to think that they're not even really paying attention. But I'm learning to not assume that. The last sister seemed to be speeding along, very efficient-like, but on the last token, she was sooo moved she could barely get her voice out; she simply wept through the entire name. 
What an amazing experience!

As long as I'm talking about this type of learning experience, I'll mention another time or two when I was surprised by the patrons.

In Provo once, there was a really young girl - seemed young enough to be a teenager, but
again, she knew the veil ceremony. (It continues to surprise me when they know it so well at such a young age!) She was sort of facing away from me, and she ended each of her comments sort of on an upnote, and I began to feel that she might be being flippant about what she was saying, but towards the end, as she turned towards me, I saw that she had tears streaming down her face. Taught again.

Another sister who with her husband was the witness couple, here in the Payson temple, seemed less than exact with her motions. Again, I found myself forming a judgement. (I know, when will I learn?) When she came to the veil, though, I felt to repent of my judgement; she was so earnest and so touched by the things said in that sacred place.
That's it for now.
"Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass...it's learning to dance in the rain."

River and Grandma Me at the OK Coral in Oregon!

This is me in the saddle with our granddaughter River, who is now (as of 8-18-13) over 6 1/2 years old! She's been on horses several times since this time, but this happened to be when we were all living in Hillsboro, Oregon, and it was her first time. We both LOVED it!

2 Years in a Nutshell

Yeah, it's been a while!

It has been over 2 years since I posted here on my own blog. To be honest, most of that time I felt that I honestly had nothing really worth saying. Then when I thought it might be TIME to post about truths and changes, the blogging/editing THING didn't work right. I seem to be blog-challenged! When I WANTED to post here, I couldn't find the right screen, but this time, when I have neither the mood to reflect nor the time to write, it just popped up! When I wanted to respond to Tom and Scorchi's mission blog, my comments wouldn't post on their blog either.
So I've let more time go by.
We lived in Cottonwood, AZ when I began this blog. Now we are in Payson, UT, and have been here going on 2 1/2 years.
A large game-changer for me has been the mission call for Anne and I to work in the Orem Family Search Processing Center two afternoons each week, from noon to 5PM. We're coming up on 2 years at the end of next month.The difference in the spiritual atmosphere of our home is amazing. When we began there, it was a fledgeling program to take some of the workload from the SL family history offices, and do computer work that prepares records for members all over the world to do indexing and arbitrating. The Orem center began as a 'pod' with just a few workers in the basement of one of the the old WordPerfect buildings in north Orem, under the mission leadership of Elder David Slagowski and his adorable wife. He was amazingly knowledgeable in all aspects of genealogy, plus he could slap Excel around like nobody's business, so was excellent at setting up and tracking our assignments. His wife has taught special education, and so was especially gifted at explaining, over and over sometimes, what we needed to do in our growing and changing assignments that came down from headquarters. 
Now our little 'pod' has about 75 missionaries covering an entire 2nd floor of the building,  working various hours, plus 2 other locations in SLC and Arizona. It's a growing field. Individuals and couples are called for various lengths of time. Most the wonderful people we've worked with have served 2 or more missions already and are not content to come home and just sit; they still want to serve. 
Vic said that my personality changed after I began working there at the Family History Center. Something about me not being as sarcastic any more. I haven't decided where to file that yet.
Also, for the last year, Vic and I have served every Friday night in the Provo Temple from 5:30-10:00 or so. We usually get home sometime between 10:30-10:45. This has made a HUGE difference in our home!
These callings have been amazing for us!
Also, I teach Relief Society once a month, and until a few weeks ago, Vic taught Sunday School every other week. These have given us launching pads for good discussions as well.
I wish to spend some time writing about deeper spiritual issues, but "today is not that day". 
At least this is a start.
Grandchildren have been born and grown. And grown! I will post pictures next time. And we've had FamCamps, and I'll throw in some pictures of those. You'll see! It'll be fun!

Faith in Every Baby Footstep

Is It Too Late?

I used to want to learn to sail. Heck, I still want to learn to sail! Motor boats are fine for skiing, and I'd like to do that again, too. But give me a silent, gliding-through-the-water experience over a noisy, smelly motorboat any time. Like canoeing or kayaking. I've done both of those only a time or two, and would like to do LOTS more of both of them. We always made sure the kids got turns before mom did.

Of course I always wanted to learn how to ride a horse...I've ridden, but got seriously thrown when I was young, and have never since been around any horses enough to get comfortable again. I'd like to take classes, nerdy tho that sounds.

I want my own dirt bike, and enough country nearby so I could go riding. A lot. And/or four-wheeling! I always ended up watching my kids try the four-wheelers out, especially my sons.

Here's the thing: I grew up as a tomboy! I grew up climbing trees, playing baseball (better than most the neighborhood boys), running full-speed around the neighborhood (faster than most the neighborhood boys). Then I became a girl. Then a more grown-up girl. Then I became a mom. And got to watch husbands and sons have all the fun, fishing, shooting guns, riding motorcycles, and got to cheer them on, when I REALLY bad wanted to get in that batting cage or go-cart or on the motorcycle or four-wheeler myself. Now, I'm 62, with no sailboats, canoes or kayaks, motorcycles nearby, no budget or need for horseback riding lessons, not much of a bucket-list budget, either. So I'm asking, is it too late?