Happy Birthday!

Happy birthday to our granddaughter, Avey Elaine, who is one year old today!

the wish of my heart

Our family has been asked to provide a special musical number for church services this morning. We have chosen to sing a double quartet of a familiar number based on these words of the prophet, Alma, “Oh that I were an angel, and could have the wish of my heart…” Our rehearsing has caused me to ponder, can angels have the wish of their hearts? What is the wish of my heart? Alma’s wish was to go forth and speak with the trump of God, a voice to shake the earth, and cry repentance unto every people! His desire was that all men would hear and understand the great plan of redemption, repent, and come unto God; that there would be no more sorrow upon all the face of the earth. Alma then realizes the boldness of his wish and thinks of it as sinful, for “I ought to be content with the things which the Lord hath allotted unto me.” Oh Alma, if you only knew then how your words would touch millions! Your wish has been granted a thousand fold.

As for me, my simple wish this morning is that we do justice to his words.

snow day

The spring Isaac turned 10 he got a new bike. He was very excited to ride it to school on Friday. But Thursday night we had one of our famous late spring snow storms. Aaron shoveled our walks and driveway before early-morning seminary, but the rest of the neighborhood was covered in 6”. Isaac was devastated when we told him he couldn’t ride his bike to school that morning. We became the enemy and had to endure the rantings of a very frustrated and disappointed 10-year-old that escalated as departure time drew nearer. Then I offered a suggestion: we could let him ride to the corner and if HE felt like he could get all the way to school without too much trouble, he could go on; but if the going was too rough, he could come home for a ride in the car. That was agreeable to all parties and he took off. I watched from the window as he went along fine until he hit the neighbor’s walk and immediately went down. He picked himself up, turned around and rode home. He came into the house and calmly announced, “I’d better ride in the car.” He realized that we weren’t the enemy, it was just the reality of the situation that gave him no other choice. I told him how sorry I was and that I understood his disappointment. I did not give him an “I told you so” or “See why I’m the Mom” or “You should have listened to me.” (Sparing him some of my own importance?!?) Consequently there was no resentment on his part, and, having come to the decision on his own, no feeling of, “I wanted to ride my bike but my mean parents wouldn’t let me.”

Although we often know more than our children, sometimes it is important to let them come to their own understanding about things. Then our role as parents becomes to be patient and compassionate, especially when “understanding” the truth about things is painful…

Jesse's adventure

Dear Friends,
I am back in my home, well, half of it. My computer is the only thing in the basement, just because we can't live without it. It will be a while before life is normal again. My son, Jesse, sent me an e-mail about this wild adventure, and I thought you would enjoy it, too...

You know it's been an exciting day when you can compare it to an episode of The Office. Here it goes: I was sitting up on the 2^nd floor of the Community building showing a resident more art techniques (actually the same techniques), and he saw what he thought was a bird over by the stairs. I looked and, with my vast knowledge of the animal kingdom, realized that it was not a bird. Upon closer inspection, I instantly realized that the erratic flight patterns were that of a bat (in the order Chiroptera).

We immediately coerced it into the hallway on the East side of the 2^nd floor of the CB and promptly shut the door. We then searched everywhere for some kind of net we could use to catch the bat. After being thwarted in our search, we settled on a trash bag. I geared up with some heavy gloves and a ninja outfit (well, I imagined the outfit anyway) and hurried up to the hallway. I was brilliant (if I do say so myself). If you want an idea of how heroic I was, watch The Office Season 3, the episode called "Business School," and multiply Dwight by 20. That's me.

Actually, I went in the hall and couldn't find the bat. I kept expecting it to fly out of nowhere and latch onto my face (which would have been pretty funny to an onlooker, but I imagine I would have been less than thrilled). Luckily, that did not happen. I looked for about five minutes until, fearing defeat; I started to head back to the hallway door. That's when it happened. I looked down slowly (like they do in those horror movies when something really bad –like a bat latching onto somebody's face- is about to happen) and there it was. I saw the hate in its eyes (even though it probably couldn't see me because most bats are blind) and the thirst for blood emanating from its teeth. Putting all my years of training to work, I gently placed the trash bag over it and nudged it onto the side of the bag until I could safely close it. I then danced around like a little girl and let out a blood-curdling scream of triumph. Or maybe it was a dance of triumph and a girly scream. Well, whatever it was, I had won. I stood supreme. We eventually let it go outside as a sign of good sportsmanship.

And THAT is why I think the mascot should have something to do with bats.

-Jesse R

PS: If anybody is missing a pet bat, I don't know where it is.

we did it!

It is our (my mother is here with me) last day as surrogate parents!  We are astounded and amazed at how smoothly everything has gone for us.  Well, if you don't count the fact that what I thought was de-tangling spray was actually mega-hold hair spray (poor little Elise, she has the worst bed-head I've ever seen, and, needless to say, hair spray is the LAST thing it needed).  Fortunately I discovered my mistake on the third day...  

Anyway, I finally figured out (had Maddi show me) how to get on the internet and thought I'd better check in since my access to a computer will be hit and miss for awhile.  The day before I left on my trip we had a flood in the basement back home.  There wasn't much water, but there was a lot of damage and at present the basement is totally emptied while contractors replace wall boards, base boards, carpet, etc.  So as much of an adventure as this past week has been, I think I have an even bigger one waiting for me when I get home tomorrow!

I will post updates as I can, in the meantime, you know how to reach me!

cross-stitch

for Summer in Washington

Black Narcissus

One of my favorite movie lines is from Black Narcissus. The conversation goes like this:

Mother Dorothea: Give her responsibility, Sister. She badly wants importance. Sister Clodagh: Do you think it's a good thing to let her feel important? Mother Dorothea: Spare her some of your own importance... if you can.

It is a mark of greatness to spare others some of our own importance. We do that when we let others tell the story we could tell better; when we rejoice when another receives a privilege/honor we wanted for ourselves; when we resist the urge to take over when others “don’t measure up”. Sparing someone some of our own importance is not giving offense, it is not taking offense; it is humbly letting something go. It is listening when we have much to say. It is sparing some of “our valuable time” to perform random acts of kindness; it IS a random act of kindness. Letting others feel important is a way to value them, and valuing others is the key to healthy human relations.

Thank-you, dear readers, friends, for helping me feel important. You are very special to me. I am leaving early tomorrow and will be away for a while, staying with my sister’s children while she and her husband have a much-needed vacation. Call my cell if you’d like to chat!

may we never forget...

In this year of election, many political problems and ideas are discussed and argued. We all have opinions, and in this nation of freedom, we can argue and discuss openly. Whatever our views on social or political issues, none of them matters without the security of our nation and its freedoms.
May we never forget the price that has been paid for our freedom; let us ever be vigilant in our efforts to maintain our national security.

garden woes

September is my favorite month. School starts, the weather tempers, the leaves turn, and the garden gives us its very best. This year our garden makes me think that Mother Nature is a jokester, for instead of my seeds growing where I carefully placed them in the spring, it looks as though I sowed them by flinging them in the air on a windy day! I have carrots in the asparagus, a tomato plant in the middle of the carrots, and a lovely acorn squash at home among the beets. I’d say only 10% of the corn came up and it certainly wasn’t knee-high by the 4th of July (Nebraska’s standard for a successful corn crop). Although this year’s garden is peculiar, it doesn’t really bother me, for I am still happy with whatever the garden is producing and I am happy that my plants are filling the measure of their creation, wherever they grow.
But there is another strange thing going on. The tomato plants are producing nicely, or so it would appear. But just as the tomatoes get ripe enough to “pick tomorrow”, they disappear before “tomorrow” comes. The neighbors report sightings of a pair of very large raccoons in the neighborhood. They come out at night and invade our yards and, I suspect, gardens. Early in the summer I would wake about 3:00 every morning when our dog dashed outside to scare something away. Hmmm. It isn’t happening anymore. I suspect that our dog, who is always on top of any invading mice, birds and squirrels, is too intimidated by those raccoons the same size as she is. And so she cowers inside, letting them have their way with our produce. Mother Nature may be a jokester, but I have a trick or two up my sleeve, too. From now on I’m not waiting until “tomorrow” to pick the tomatoes, I am picking “today”!

wise words

Heber J. Grant loved this quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson:
“That which we persist in doing becomes easier for us to do; not that the nature of the thing itself is changed, but that our power to do is increased.”

Heber J. Grant believed this with all his heart and proved it many times over through persistence and hard work. Ralph Waldo Emerson was indeed a very wise man. Here are some of his other gems of wisdom:



“Whatever you decide upon, there is always someone to tell you that you are wrong. There are always difficulties arising which tempt you to believe that your critics are right. To map out a course of action and follow it to an end requires courage.”

“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.”

“To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children… to leave the world a better place… to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.”

Have a successful day today, dear friends!

"cat"-napped

I have kept pretty good journals over the years, particularly of the doings of my young children (I wanted documentation). Although I didn’t get down everything noteworthy, I am very glad for what I did write, it is an important insight into the workings of developing individuals. Jesse’s journal has been a source of great delight to the whole family; there have been times when his siblings would be blue or bored and suggest, “Let’s read Jesse’s journals!” In no time they’d be rolling on the floor laughing so hard at the antics of that boy. There was the time he kicked a greenie Elder in the shin with his cowboy boots just because “He was looking at me funny.” And the time he went right up to a stranger smoking outside the library and told him, “You are going to die.” (Thankfully, the man took no offense, but agreed that smoking is very bad and cautioned him never to start). By the time Jesse was nine, we thought (hoped) he was growing out of some of his impulsiveness. But then we had a wild summer full of unusual adventures, culminating with the incident known as the “kidnapping”.

Neighbors down the street came knocking one day, looking for their missing cat; had we seen it? No, hadn’t seen it. The next day they came again, “Are you sure you haven’t seen it? We think Jesse might have it.” No, still hadn’t seen it. I thought it was peculiar that they thought Jesse had it, I didn’t know where he would have it; but then Jesse got blamed for a lot of things. The next day they came again, “We really think Jesse has our cat; we think he kidnapped it.” By this time I was getting a little perturbed and the Momma Bear began to emerge. “Jesse doesn’t have your cat! How in the world could Jesse kidnap your cat? The cat can jump over the fence; the cat can crawl under the gate. What makes you think Jesse has your cat?” My husband overheard the exchange and came to the door. In his mind was the thought, “If anyone could kidnap a cat, Jesse could… if anyone would kidnap a cat, it would be Jesse.” He told the neighbor children he’d check into it. He approached Aaron, Jesse’s younger brother and likely partner in crime. Aaron was at that lovely innocent age when lying is still a foreign concept. “Oh, yes, Jesse has a cat. He has him in a cage made of wood scraps, hidden in the alley up the street a ways. He’s had him for three days and has been taking him food and water. Wanna see it?” Jesse returned the cat to its rightful owners, wrote a heartfelt apology letter, and worked hard all afternoon making homemade cinnamon rolls as a peace offering.

Just when you think you’ve seen it all, children have a way of opening your eyes a little wider…

divine direction

“It is said that the very hairs of your head are all numbered; is it not to teach us that nothing, not the smallest things imaginable, happen to us by chance? But if the smallest things we can conceive of are declared to be under the divine direction, need we, or can we, be more plainly taught that the greatest things of life, such as the manner of our coming into the world, our parents, the time, and other circumstances of our birth and condition, are all according to the eternal purposes, direction, and appointment of divine Providence?” (A Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life, William Law, Sovereign Grace Publishers, Grand Rapids, Michigan, 1971.)

as American as...

It is time to be thinking about the fall apple crop. Nearly 30 years ago, a friend told me about this recipe for home-processed apple pie filling but said she had tried it and it turned out horribly so she was reluctant to share it with me. I talked her into giving it to me anyway and I have used it all these years with wonderful results. I make several batches each year to have plenty on hand. It is wonderful for a quick, easy dessert; many claim it is the best apple pie they’ve ever had. Make it with the traditional double crust (I’ve included my own recipe for pie crust) or try it with the Apple Crumb topping in place of the top crust (that’s the way my family likes it). A jar of the filling makes a beautiful gift, too.


BOTTLED APPLE PIE FILLING
Mix together in a large pot:
4 ½ Cups sugar
1 Cup cornstarch
2 tsp. cinnamon
¼ tsp. nutmeg
1 tsp. salt
Add 10 Cups water and cook over medium heat until bubbly.
Add 3 Tbsp. lemon juice. Remove from heat.
Prepare 7 quarts of apples*, peeled, and thinly sliced. Pour syrup over apples, using a skewer to work out air pockets. Fill bottles to ½” from top. Cap and process in a cold water bath or steamer for 20 minutes.
*I use either golden delicious or granny smith, but any tart apple works well.


APPLE CRUMB PIE
Empty one jar apple pie filling (see previous recipe) into unbaked pie shell.
In a small bowl combine:
¾ Cup flour
½ Cup sugar
With a pastry blender, cut in 1/3 Cup butter until mixture resembles cornmeal. Sprinkle over apples.
Bake 40 minutes at 400 .


PIE CRUST
2 Cups flour
½ tsp. salt
10 Tbsp. butter
3 Tbsp. shortening
¼ Cup ice water
Mix four and salt. Cut shortening and butter in until mixture resembles cornmeal. Stir in water slowly, adding a little more if needed just until mixture will stick to itself. Makes enough for two crusts. *Roll out scraps, cut into squares, sprinkle with cinnamon sugar and bake for a delicious pie crust cookie.

school

It’s that time of year, the days turn ever so slightly shorter, the mornings are just a touch cooler, and school supplies fill the store shelves. I love this time of year, I love the exciting anticipation of school starting. I loved school, learning new and wonderful things, opening new books, sharpening new pencils (I used to name my two number twos and took care to help them last all school year). Clean white paper just cried out for words and numbers to be written on it. Perhaps that is why I wanted to be a teacher.

Now my excitement is in watching my children return to school. And all six of them have. Nate teaches history to 8th-graders by day and teaches a college history class at night. Eli is in a masters program (psychology) at UCCS. Jesse is in his last quarter at BYU (psychology) and Aaron is a junior there (speech pathology). Hannah and Isaac are both in high school, she is a senior and he is a freshman. One of my daughters-in-law is even a part-time substitute teacher!

I do my learning from books these days, finding great volumes at thrift stores. But I have an urge to buy my own school supplies; I could use some brand new number twos!

totally cool

Two weeks ago my 14-yr old son, Isaac, announced he was going “swimming” up in the mountains with his scouting friends and their leader. They came to pick him up and I asked if I needed to sign a trip permit of some kind. No, it was just an informal activity. As it turns out, they went cliff-diving! He had a fabulous time jumping off 40-foot cliffs into a pool too deep to even touch bottom. The only mishap was when he neglected to keep his arms tight against his body on one jump, smacking his forearm pretty hard. I was glad he had the adventure, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I was also glad I didn’t know about it ahead of time, you know how mothers can worry…
Then just this weekend my nearly-18-year-old daughter went to the shooting range with her older brothers. She got to try out Eli’s 40 caliber Glock handgun. She was totally into it, that fierce stance, arms outstretched, “Make my day” written all over her face. Thirteen shots emptied the clip, then she reloaded in a heartbeat, emptying 5 clips. She was so excited about the whole experience, she said she felt like Jason Bourne. She and Eli have a date to the gun show next weekend; she wants a 9mm Glock for Christmas this year…
I am so proud of my children!