CHRISTMAS AT THE OLD REC HALL

The Old Rec Hall in Sandy holds many fonds memories for me. Each year, friends and neighbors would gather there for a special Christmas celebration. I remember the long walk to the Old Rec Hall with my sister and I thought we would never get there. It seemed that hundreds of people attended. There must have been some sort or program--although I don't remember any of it. I remember the squeaky floors and the long line of people waiting to see Santa up on the stage. The stage had maroon drapes but it seemed that blankets were hung to section off the room for I remember walking down the make-shift isles to the stage where Santa sat.

I felt afraid of him and timidly approached him to get my sack of goodies. It had an orange, peanuts, and hard-tack ripple candy. I remember the fibers of the peanut shells sticking to the sticky hard-tack candy. So, in order to eat the candy, the fibers had to be licked off. I was secretly disappointed with the bag of treats but eagerly received it anyway.

The hard-tack ripple candy was a favorite of my mother's and it seemed to find its way into our home every Christmas. I believe my mother was the only one who ate it however. It reminded her of her childhood and her years as a young girl on the farm when a single piece of colorful candy would be sucked on for hours and made to last the whole day. Mother's candy specialities were dollar mints and chocolate-peanut clusters. She always had a stash of her favorites in the bedroom and every time she went shopping, she would buy another bag. She was always generous with her candy and would surprise us with a little treat when least expected.

Today I am grateful for the memory of such a simple bag of goodies. Things were different then. Children did not expect the sun and the moon and the stars under the tree. I think it was better then. People seemed more focused on the simple joy of celebrating Christmas. I love returning to the Old Rec Hall every year. It brings back such fond memories for me.

A few weeks before Christmas, we would go as a family to buy a fresh tree. Dad would drive us there and let us pick out the tree we desired. But the truth is that I always picked the one that I thought he would like best. He brought twine and would tie the tree to the roof or the trunk of the car. He always had to build the tree for it was never perfect and seemed to always have a gaping whole in it. So he would saw off a branch elsewhere and somehow attach it where it was need.

One year when Loraine and I were young, the family had decorated the tree the night before and it was magnificent. I had never seen such a splendid sight. Why it was the most beautiful tree in the entire world. It had bubble lights and icicles and all sorts of colored bulbs. Loraine and I loved it so much that the next morning we got up early to view it with the lights on and noticed that the windows were steamy. So we got some rags to wipe off the front window. Unfortunately, as we were eagerly cleaning the window so that everyone could see it, we knocked the tree over, water and all. We then had the task of going into Mother and Dad's bedroom to tell them that we had just knocked the tree over and water was everywhere. They must have understood how excited we were, for they simply got out of bed, cleaned up the water, and put the tree in its upright position. It is a delicious memory for me--even with the ripple candy and peanut fibers. Yum!

HIGH FLIGHT

(The poem I wish I had written. My heart fairly soars as I read these beautiful, insightful words.)

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
and danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds--and done a hundred things
you have not dreamed of--wheeled and soared and swung
high in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
my eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long delirious, burning blue
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace
where never lark, or ever eagle flew--
and, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
the high untresspassed sanctity of space,
put out my hand and touched the face of God.

(Written by Pilot Officer John Gillespie Magee. He died a few months after writing this beautiful poem on a scrap of paper and sent it to his parents. He wrote the entire poem on flight as his heart with filled with inspiration. He died at the age of 19. It makes me appreciate even more the magesty of creation. He was truly inspired.)

BLIGHTFULLY UTAH

I took the opportunity to drive past my parent's home last week and I was amazed how it had changed over the years. It is an older neighborhood but had a certain charm. As a matter of fact, the bottom of Pioneer Avenue is littered with once lovely mansions. Today, however, it has become a street with blight and decay. I am very sad. The street that was once nicknamed "Blossom" now looks like the faded bloom of a withered rose.

I remember when Lady Bird Johnson campaigned for us to clean up our yards and to beautify the land. As the First Lady of the Country, her strong voice was heard as she encouraged us to take stewardship of our property and to care for our yards. I believe she was able to make a difference in the attractiveness of the neighborhoods across America as she admonished us to clean up, put away, and even get rid of those things that did not add to the beauty of our country. She taught us to have pride in our yards by taking care of them and then by being an example to others.

Under her tutelage, private and city properties were groomed and tended and beautiful beds of flowers were planted for the enjoyment of the entire community. But that was many years ago; and it is time, once again, to remember her admonition to "beautify the land."

The cooler temperatures, the shorter days, and the occasional rain may give us cause to think that it is time to curl up in front of the fireplace and to drink hot chocolate. This, of course, is true. However, there will be plenty of warm, golden days ahead where we can work in our yards to pull weeds, to groom the lawn, to sweep the gutters, to clean up our porches, to pick up debris which have blown in, to put away tools and toys, and to get the garden "ready to be put to bed." Then when winter finally arrives, our neighborhood will be so much more beautiful with yards which have been cared for in the fall.

We are truly fortunate--for living in our neighborhood is an awesome blessing. Where else on earth will we find such wonderful people than our own little corner of the world? Let's join together, each one of us taking responsibility for our own property, to groom and beautify our yards, so that we may visually enjoy the neighborhood during the season ahead.

SCHOOL NERVES

The first day of school has always made me feel so nervous. I remember my stomach churned and I fretted about who my new teacher would be. But mother said I would be just fine and not to worry--but I did anyway. I have always been so nervous.

Last year, I stood in line at the second grade door and now I have to stand in line at the third grade door, and I am afraid that I will get mixed up like I did last year. So, I stood outside the school's door like a tin soldier with my arms straight down by my side and my head straight ahead so that the teachers would see what a nice girl I would be. But they did not seem to notice.

The teachers finally came to call roll and I secretly wanted the pretty teacher with the Ipana smile to call my name. She never did. The old teacher with the frowning face did. She did not look like she was going to be a bit of fun--so now I really felt nervous.

Then one day she said, "My, look how round your 'O' is." "Oh, your 'P' is perfect." "Wow, I like the way you color inside the lines." Then I noticed something sort of strange. Her frown turned upside down and I was surprised to see that she had an Ipana smile too. So now school does not make me nervous any more.

The first day of school has always made me feel so nervous. I remember the first day I taught school. I was so nervous that my head ached and I fretted about who my students would be. But my husband said I would be just fine and not to worry--but I did anyway. I have always been so nervous.

Last year, I taught third grade and now I will teach fourth and I am afraid that I might get mixed up like I did last year. I opened the school's door nervously and stood with the other teachers like a tin soldier with my arms at my side and my head straight ahead so that the children would see what a nice teacher I would be. But they did not seem to notice.

School was to begin and I secretly wanted to call the names of the students who were bright and shiny and had Ipana smiles, but they weren't on my list so I called on the students with frowning faces. They did not look like they were going to be a bit of fun--so now I felt nervous for sure.

Then one day, one of the students said, "My, look how nice your writing is." "Oh, I like the way you draw." "Wow, you really know how to read a good story!" So, now school does not make me nervous any more.

CRACKS IN THE SIDEWALK

Old habits are very hard to change. I remember as young girl walking with my sister along Main Street in Historic Sandy to go to the store for my mother. The stride of my walk was very irregular. Some steps were short, and some were extra long because I was cautious not to step on a crack for I did not want to "break my mother's back." It must have been very odd watching me walk for I kept this up the entire length of the cement sidewalk. I wonder where on earth that old sage advice came from and what made people think that stepping on a crack in the sidewalk would cause bodily injury to someone else. I am sure its origin must be unique. I can only say that because of my cautious nature, my mother never had a broken back. The conclusion is that the old saying was justifiably true.

Even today, I find myself being cautious not to step on a crack--wouldn't want my mother, who now residing in Heaven, to break her heavenly back. Sometimes I say to myself, "This is complete nonsense to think that I am hurting my mother by stepping on the crack!" Not wanting to keep up this craziness, one day I intentionally stepped on a crack just to prove the old saying to be wrong; and wouldn't you know it, as I deliberately stepped my foot down on the crack, which also had weeds growing out of it, I twisted my ankle. From that time forward, I have become a believer. I am now convinced that a crack in the sidewalk must have some kind of secret powers and, if you are not careful, it will indeed break your back! Craziness or not, I now have a healthy respect for all sidewalk cracks. I don't try to second guess them for they lay in wait for their next unsuspecting victim. I am convinced they can see you coming!

ENCHANTING

I've noticed the two of them on several occasions in the same cloth store which I frequent. They obviously enjoy their friendship with each other and even their lunch as they spread out their sandwiches, potato chips, and carrots on the cloth-cutting table--apparently oblivious to those around them who have come to the table to have their cloth measured and cut. I've wondered why someone has not say something to them about getting mustard on the yardage. But I figured that if it does not bother those getting their cloth cut, then it does not bother me.

As I've observed the two, I've discovered two very delightful and intelligent women whose friendship is rare. One woman is in a wheelchair. Her body is ravaged by some dreaded disease which has caused her to be twisted and slumped over. The other woman is in better health, or at least she is walking around, but seems to have challenges of her own. It is obvious that they go to the store for the same reason that I go to the store which is to be visually and mentally stimulated.

One sunny afternoon, as I was in the cloth shop for my weekly jaunt, I saw them as they strolled up and down the isles--one walking and one in the wheelchair--and they stopped at each display to study each treasure. After sometime had passed, and to my delight, I over heard one woman calling to the other (for they had separated and were on different isles) and she wondered where her friend was. The woman in the wheelchair sweetly called back that she had become "enchanted" with some decoration and that she had been studying it for some time.

"Enchanted." What a lovely word. I had visions of a beautiful piece of art work which had been creatively, exquisitely designed and crafted and was now on sale. I thought that I must surely go see what the item was that was so "enchanting." So after the woman in the wheelchair left, I looked and looked around the display case but could not see what had been so "enchanting" that it caused her to hold it, feel it, study it, and enjoy it.

I had a slight pang of envy for I, too, wanted to be "enchanted" by something rare and beautiful. It was then that I realized that "enchantment" is in the eyes of the beholder.

VIGNETTING

The technique of vignetting, a term used in oil painting, which means to shade off gradually into the background, blends the oils and mixes the colors nicely. The artist loads an ample amount of paint to the tip of each brush and then strokes the brush in a crisscross fashion across the canvas. Although the colors blend beautifully, as the light hits the canvas at different angles, to my way of thinking, the technique sometimes looks rather artificial.

Tonight, however, as I was admiring the beautiful sunset and thinking how wonderful it would be to have such a large canvas on which to express myself, I noticed bold strokes of color which crisscrossed and remarkably resembled the technique of vignetting. Splashes of color--Alizarin Red, Cadmium Orange and Yellow, Moss Green, and hints of Sepia--dotted the horizon. I imagined a gigantic sable paint brush dabbing and stroking against the canvas of the sky. What Technicolor! What technique! What splendor! But with each passing minute, the hues and texture of the sky morphed and gradually the sun lowered behind the mountain leaving only a hint of color and the faded memory of Chinese White, Payne's Grey, and a dab of Thalo Blue. The Technicolor sky was almost gone but the Great Artist's impression of vignetting left a lasting memory of beauty. What a marvelous sight!

AMERICA, THE VISION

Carl Sandburg once wrote, "I see America, not in the setting of the sun of a black night of despair ahead of us. I see America in the crimson light of a rising sun, fresh from the burning, creative hand of God. I see great days ahead, great days possible to men and women of will and vision."

I, too, see America in "the crimson light of a rising sun." I see America as a land where precious freedoms are preserved through the united efforts of honest men and women. I see America ripe with opportunities where those with great expectations and enterprise may take flight; where those willing to work hard and to be inventive may achieve their vision; where dreamers and visionaries lively with imagination may reap the reward of abundant success. I see a land where individual rights are protected and where individual voices may be heard. I see a land rich in optimism and a land enveloped with hope.

Sadly, I also see America filled with elements of despair. I sometimes see America as a land where those in high places with their swanky suits and high-priced ideas, corrupt and self-serving, a cancer to society, flourish at the expense of the common man. I sometimes see America where greed is common and honesty is rare. I sometimes see America where the eyes of indifference turn away from poverty, neglect, and abuse. America is an interesting contrast of "blight or bright;" and where you live, in your neighborhood, or in your mind, dictates the America that you see.

And yet, and yet...

I know it is a land which can be filled with exceptional goodness. It is a land which can be filled with high morals and values. It is a land where freedoms reign supreme and where patriotism runs deep.

As a school girl, I had the unique privilege of having those precious feelings of patriotism embedded deep within my heart. At the old Sandy Elementary School, a patriotic devotional was held faithfully each morning. I loved the devotional and held it with the greatest of respect. Each day, it began with a magnificent rendition of "The Battle Hymn of the Republic."

"Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord; He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored, He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible, swift sword; His truth is marching on...."

And then the teacher would say, "Class, please stand to recite the Pledge of Allegiance." Standing at attention with hands over heart, the Pledge would be recited. Eloquent, meaningful words of Abraham Lincoln then followed; and finally a prayer was given. It was simple, yet powerful, and most memorable.

Thoughts of patriotism and thankfulness course through my mind at the very sight of the American flag. The opening cords of the National Anthem will cause emotional feelings to well up within my bosom. How blessed we are as a nation to have the right to stand tall with the conviction to do good and to have the ability to make a difference. How blessed we are to have the right to choose good over evil. How blessed we are to have a nation founded by our forefathers whose ideals, purposes, and design aligned with Deity. Yes, I embrace the thoughts of Carl Sandburg that we are, indeed, a blessed nation where we may "see America in the crimson light of a rising, sun, fresh from the burning, creative hand of God."

MY CHILD

...the creation of the stars in the
Milky Way
pales in comparison
to the creation of you,
my child...

SONJA--ANGEL EYES

My first child, Sonja:

"...her hair flying this a way and that a way in the wind..."

ANGEL EYES

Sometimes when I gaze at those angel eyes
I think I am looking at Eve,
or is it Mary, or Heavenly Mother
that I think my mind conceives?

No, its none of these that my mind preceives
but someone who is fair and wise.
Sonja, my child, it is you that I see
when I gaze at those angel eyes.

Sometimes a small glimpse of what you will be
comes forth in an admirable way;
When you tell me you love me or say that you're sorry
or help me with work through the day.

And, sometimes I see the woman you'll be
by the way that you comb your hair
or when you whisper sweet secrets to me
or by the things that you share.

Sometimes I wonder, "How can this be so.
Did you really choose me for your mother?"
But when I see those eyes look at me
I know that we each chose no other.

ALEZA--FAMILY SECRETS

My second child, Aleza:

"...how do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?..."

FAMILY SECRETS

A certain little girl of mine
keeps me breathless most the time.

Telling stores short and tall
Family Secrets--one and all.

"Why, Uncle Brent should be in jail.
He stole a kiss and winked as well."

"Aunt Loraine's a kangaroo.
She's got a baby coming due."

"Grandma, dear, 's a silly goose.
She drinks some stuff to make her loose!"

"Aunt Cheryl's beard's in a funny place.
Not on her chin, but above her face."

"Mommy's a pirate with treasures of old.
Her teeth are filled with silver and gold."

But Gramp's the smartest of the lot.
He reads the paper while on the pot."

Yes, Family Secrets are fun to tell
and Aleza sure can tell them well!

SPENCER PONDERS THE THEORY OF GRAVITY

My third child, Spencer:

...I'm gonna shoot for the moon but I'm sure I'll hit the stars...

SPENCER PONDERS THE THEORY OF GRAVITY

His eager mind thought and thought
as he laid in bed one night.
He could not hold his young mind back
as his many thoughts took flight.

"I wonder what is going on--
up in the sky," said he.
"And just exactly what is this force
known as gravity?"

So he gathered all his science books
and he studied night and day.
His mind absorbed many wonders
and his study became his play.

Is it up or down? I've just got to know.
And he pulled plans from his pocket.
"I'll get me a can of super fuel
and I'll fly me an awesome rocket."

Never mind that the fields are very dry
And that fires can be dreary.
'Cause, this gravity's got me puzzled
and I've got to test my theory."

So up he shot that high tech "rock"
And it came down in a flury.
"Why gravity must be down, not up,
'Cause it landed in a hurry!"

AUTUMN--BEAUTY INTERTWINED

My fourth child, Autumn:

...her reason--motherhood
...her season---motherhood
...for pleasin'--God

BEAUTY INTERTWINED

Beauty that's outer
dazzles the eye.
It shimmers, it sparkles,
it shines.

Beauty that's inner
catches the heart.
It's gentle, it's warm,
it's kind.

But the beauty that's fair
and considered most rare
is the beauty that's intertwined.

TRENT--BUILDING A SHOE RACK

Trent, my fifth child:

...he gathers nuts 'n bolts 'n bits of string...

BUILDING A SHOE RACK

I think I'll build a shoe rack;
it's a very useful thing.
I'll search the many junk drawers;
just to find a bit of string.

I need a hanger for the frame--
nothin' else will do.
I'll use a stretch of masking tape,
and a tiny dab of glue.

Now this contraption may seem odd
and look a little strange.
'Cause I took the light bulb
from the hood above the kitchen range.

I'll take a needle and some thread;
and sew it all together.
And paint it colors of every hue;
it simply can't get better.

Now there's a pocket for every shoe--
it's really very handy.
'Cause I can fit my socks in too,
and a bit of hard tack candy!

TRAVIS--THE DREAM

My sixth child, Travis:

...electricity flows through his veins. Plug him in and watch him light up!...

THE DREAM

Now here's a boy whose got a dream;
it can hardly be contained.
His ideas are twirling in his head;
and he's always feelin' drained.

'Cause he stays up half the night--
workin' on some new scheme;
to build a little movie house;
to satisfy his dream.

So he bought a pile of timber,
some plastic, and a sheet.
And he stretched and nailed each corner
'til the big screen was complete.

He bought quite a projector,
that shines upon the wall.
The picture is gigantic,
and 'luminates the hall.

His first projector was really great,--
until it blew a fuse.
A small explosion shook the room,
and Dad was not amused.

The celluloid melted fast away,
the fire was soon contained.
But he didn't give up--no not he;
the story has been famed.

His mind's been twirling ever since;
his ideas are really hot.
He did some hefty figurin';
and he's a workin' out his plot.

He wants the biggest movie screen,
the world has ever found.
He'll stretch that screen wall to wall;
and blast that blessed sound!

LETTER TO A FRIEND

It seems almost like yesterday when we first moved into this neighborhood that I noticed your darling home decorated according to season. First it is snowmen and valentines,and then spring blossoms. From there it goes to bird houses and sunflowers, and then autumn leaves, and finally holly n' berries. Then it begins all over again—just like clock work!

Each time I round the corner, my eye catches a glimpse of something new and delightful. It is a pleasure for me to watch the seasons unfold on your front doorstep. I admire your ability to decorate and to pull beautiful displays together. It is such a beautiful talent that you have been given.

Soon, I began hearing about a beautiful back yard—a secret garden —as such, filled with magnificent perennials. And, my, what a breathtaking sight when I first entered your splendid yard. It reminds me of what I envision the Garden of Eden to be like.

I so much enjoy listening to you talk about your flowers. You can name every one of them and know exactly what season they will bloom. I learned that you lovingly planted them in the perfect spot so that they will grow and flourish and mature to full bloom. I admire and love great gardeners. People who live close to the earth, like you, understand things about this world that the rest do not.

I next discovered your delightful character. Full of fun and mischief. Always, always with the fresh idea. Always wanting to make "things" fun and memorable.
To the point, and always truthful. I admire all of those qualities. You are a wonderful example to me in so many ways.

You have left your beautiful mark on friends in the neighborhood. They speak of you often and express their love for you. I add my love to theirs and thank you for your precious friendship. You are a beautiful Daughter of God. It is a joy knowing you.

GRANITE BOULDER AND TENDER SHOOT

Mother Nature often teaches us powerful lessons about life. I learned one lesson about the importance of "letting the light in" through a boulder and a tree.

It is not unusual for a tree to grow next to a boulder, but it unusual for a tree to grow in the center of a boulder. Such was the case of a large granite boulder near some farm land. Amazingly, the granite boulder was split in half with a large tree growing out of the center. Imagine a tiny seed germinating deep beneath the earth under the boulder. First a ray of light, next a trickle of rain, and then somehow the impossible happened, a tender shoot sprouted and grew up into the porous rock. It eventually cracked the boulder in half and grew into a beautiful tree. Now that was rich soil.

It seemed impossible for the seed to take root, grow, and then flourish as a beautiful shade tree, but it did! What may seem like an insurmountable goal can actually eventuate. When the ray of light shines through, and moisture comes, the seed will germinate and grow. If it is a good seed, it will grow when nourished whether it is spiritually, mentally, emotionally, physically, socially, or financially.

A few years ago a problem was posed to a group of engineers to which they were to find a solution. They were challenged to design an asphalt type substance which could not be penetrated by the sun, rain, sleet, or snow. Finally, a near perfect product was produced and was laid. Months passed and the product seemed to be the answer to all their problems until someone noticed a single blade of grass growing up through this asphalt. How did the light get in? It seems that a hairline fissure barely visible to the naked eye cracked open. A single blade of grass felt the warmth from a small shaft of sunlight and grew and grew. Remarkable!

Within each of us is that great and noble desire to let ''the light get in.'' I personally believe that it comes from the fact that we were all born with the Light of Christ and that there is a yearning to keep that light alive deep within our souls. Joyful living comes to us when the ''light gets in.''
(Excerpt from "Finding Fulfillment" by Lorae Stirling)

ANTS ON A LOG

Ants on a log--
all in a row.
Tell a tale of wonders
of all the things they know.
Tell us your tale
of the wonders that you know,
as we all sit together
like ants in a row.

THE OVERWHELMING, IMPOSSIBLE TASK

It is important to set goals and then strive to achieve them. A great measure of joy came to my life when a monumental goal was completed a few years ago. The amazing thing about this goal is that it started some forty-five years ago when I was a teenager. I am sure it was through my father's example of collecting poetry, quotes, and stories that I started my own collection. You can imagine, after so much time had passed, the vast amount of written materials I had gathered.

One day, I opened the filing cabinet and made the decision to either get rid of the collection or actually put it in some type of order. It was on every kind of paper imaginable from old envelopes, bits and scraps of paper, to faded mimeographed sheets. In its present form, it was a just a heap of paper, unmanageable, and certainly not very useful. I knew I had to do something with it; and thankfully, I could see the possibilities of a wonderful book. So plans were made to get started on what looked like an overwhelming, impossible task.

The objective was to work on the project a few hours each evening and on weekends during the long winter months. At first, it seemed like a boring, endless job—all the sorting, tossing, typing, proofreading, and printing that needed to be done—but I kept in mind that I did not have to complete the project all at once; I just needed to finish one page at a time.

As I completed the final pages, I had feelings of satisfaction and fulfillment in my heart for I had accomplished a monumental task; and to top that off, my goal was realized. My time and effort had been well spent and the end product was worth the many months of hard work devoted to its completion. I add fresh material to the book yearly and find pleasure in thumbing through the pages on a quiet afternoon while relishing in the fact that what was a forty-five year collection, a “useless heap of paper,” is now a beautiful book and a completed goal.

THE 'JUST IN CASE' POTS

Jim, every time I travel down this road, I notice that you keep lots of empty pots on your front porch.

Well, there’s a reason for that. These are my “just in case” pots.

“Just in case” pots?

Yes, every time something happens that I don’t want to forget, I put a pot on the front porch. Then I can go out each night while I’m by myself, sit in my rocker, and think about all the things I don’t want to forget. Yes, it helps me remember things “just in case” they happen again.

“Just in case” what happens again?

Well, “just in case” things happen that I don’t like. So, if it ever happens again, I can remember that it happened before. See how it works? Then I don’t have to charge up my memory and trigger thoughts that might otherwise have been forgotten. That way I can be quick to be all fired up, fuss and stew, and put up my guard for the next time when it happens. See how the pots jar my memory and save me time?

Well sort of. But what kind of things do you want to remember “just in case” they happen again?

Well, see that fellow over there. Why, when he was about ten years old, he and some other kids in the neighborhood were out back playing ball. I’d been yelling at them all morning to quit throwing that ball when all of a sudden it went right through my kitchen window and nearly hit me. The boys flew in every direction and I didn’t see one of them until later that evening when he came back to apologize and pay for the broken window. Lickity-split, I put a pot right there on my front porch so that I would always remember what kind of a kid he is. I figure he will never amount to anything. Besides that, I don’t like the new window. It lets in too much sunshine.

So, when you were a kid, did you ever throw a ball and have it break a window?

Well, yes of course, but that’s different because when I did it, it was an accident.

Well, did you ever apologize and pay for the broken window?

No, not really. I was scared, and besides I didn’t have a penny to my name.

Oh, I see.

Then one day, I was at the feed store when that same kid showed up. He asked if he could help me carry my bags to the truck when all of a sudden he tripped and fell and everything scattered all over the ground and a couple of things broke—you know, that kid can’t do anything right. So, I got real fired up and went home and immediately put another pot on my front porch.

Well, did you ever try to help someone and it sort of back fired?

Sure. But it was their fault and not mine!

Uh, huh.

You won’t believe what happened next. A couple of years later that same kid was at the gas station pumping gas when all of a sudden smoke started coming out of the hood of my car and he started running toward me and shouted right there in front of everyone, “Hey, Mister, you’re a liar.” I have never been more embarrassed in all of my life. Later he tried to cover up by saying that he really said, “Hey, Mister, you’re on fire!” This boy is all trouble. After he put out the fire, I went right home and put out another pot.

Have you ever say anything that was misunderstood?

Well, sure. But that’s different. I didn’t mean it.

Oh, yes, I’m getting the picture now.

Next time I went down the road and passed Jim’s home, I noticed that all the pots were gone and there sitting beside the old man rocking and talking was that same young man who Jim said would never amount to anything. I yelled over, "Jim, where are the pots?"

“Well,” Jim said, “You got me to thinking. I decided I really did need help carrying my things out to the truck, and I sure appreciated it when he put out the fire. But most of all, I like the new window because it lets the sunshine in.”

THE HANKY

Some linen cloth of perfect white.
A hem of lace or tatting tight.
A hanky--what a lovely thing.
Oh, the memories that it can bring
of a birth, or a baptism, or a wedding day,
or for a special "Thanks" when its hard to say.
So tuck it among your treasures untold
for the day when you need "Something Old"....
(1981)

THE THINGS I DID THAT TWERN'T SO NICE

I detest this voice that follows me
each day as on my travels be.
It whispers:
Time will come when you'll regret
those little things you did, and yet....

How innocent it seemed to me
when I merely ate the grape to see
if it twer' ripe or sour be.

There ain't no use in losing sleep,
after all, it were just a tiny heap
of trash we left behind that day
as we quickly, quietly sped away.

It's no big deal to run a light
if there ain't no sneaky cop in sight.
They say a crime just ain't a fact
unless you're caught right in the act.

The neighbors, they'll not ever no
twas' me, the one who took the hoe.
I needed it, twas' plain to me,
the weeds that grew made it hard to see.

Yet, this voice that follows me
will simply not let this matter be.
It says a day will come in time
when I'll regret this trait of mine.
Cause I'll be the one to pay the price
for the things I did that twern't so nice.

(Written for lesson on honesty.)

THE HOLY PLACE

Many years ago, we went to the mountains on a camping trip and sat under the canopy of the beautiful evening sky. The stars were sparkling and appeared to have a silvery shimmer. They looked like little punctuation marks. The silhouette of majestic pine trees, reaching toward the heavens, completed the picture. It was awe inspiring. My eyes followed the slender trunk of the pines from the bottom to the top. The branches were outstretched like welcoming arms and were evenly positioned. I was impressed by the pine's perfect shape. So majestic and regal. Beautiful! Banners were displayed at the base of the pine trees and one caught my eye that said, ''Stand ye in holy places.'' I thought to myself, "How perfect the setting," and that it was indeed a "Holy Place." Where else on earth can one go to feel the presence of Heavenly Father? Surely, this would be considered a holy place.

Our camp site was surrounded by beautiful groves of pine trees; and as I relished in my feelings of closeness to Heavenly Father, it dawned on me that the story of life was told in this setting. In the middle of the grove were two dead trees--elderly husband and wife, I believe. They were the grandparents and had lived a long time on earth. Their time was over and only their lifeless brown branches remained. Seedlings were growing everywhere--grandchildren. They were new to the earth--stretching and growing towards the heavens. Their boughs were colored bright kelly green, whereas the more mature trees, their parents, were dark forest green. Mom and Dad grew side by side showing them the way. ''Grow straight and tall and look to the heavens," they whispered as the wind rustled through their branches. Our lovely wooded campsite, home to us for the weekend, indeed, felt like a holy place.

THE PRECIOUS GIFT

One autumn day when the sky was golden and the air crisp, my husband was raking fallen leaves from our back lawn. I was watching him from the window when I saw him stoop down to collect a bird's nest which had fallen from the large maple tree. He gently held it in his hands and turned it over and over to examine the architecture of the nest. I saw a look of wonderment in his eyes. The nest was large and well built with twigs, straw, and mud. He looked up and saw me in the window, smiled, and then brought it to me. My heart soared and I felt abundantly blessed with his offering. It was a precious gift. I will add it to my eclectic collection of nature's wonders and will marvel at the handiwork of God. I will forever love the gift presented to me by my tender-hearted husband. It was a precious gift.

ENOUGH ROOM FOR ALL

The tree teaches a masterful lesson. Hundreds of leaves grow from the same tree whether it is an elm, a maple, or an oak. In springtime, the leaf will bud, unfurl, and then come forth. Miraculously there is enough room for all to grow. One leaf does not crowd out another leaf. If one leaf receives moisture, they all receive moisture. Only at harvest time, does the leaf need to fall in order for a new bud to appear.

The tree teaches a masterful lesson. I do not have to lose in order for you to win. You do not have to lose in order for me to win. There is enough moisture and nutrients surging through the trunk of the tree for all of us to live and flourish, to grow and blossom together. There is enough room for us all. We can all bud, unfurl, and grow to be as mighty as we desire.

SIMPLE, EXQUISITE BEAUTY

A few weeks ago, I received a phone call from my son. I could hardly hear his voice and asked why he was speaking in such a low whisper. He told me he was taking a hike by himself and had come across two beautiful doe grazing in a lovely field. He watched them quietly as they fed for a long time. He described the field, the doe, and the trees. It was simple, exquisite beauty--an awesome sight; and he wanted to share it with someone, so he called me. I could hear from the tone of his soft voice that the moment was magical.

How privileged I felt to have him want to share this tender moment with me. My heart thrilled and tears filled my eyes as he described every detail of the field, the trees, the doe, and even the slight breeze. It was breathtaking! What a shame it would have been to have missed that special moment with my son. The simplicity of the experience was precious to my soul. How grateful I am that he embraced the moment and then desired to share it with me.
(Excerpt from book, "Finding Fulfillment" by Lorae Stirling)

S & H GREEN STAMPS

What makes one man think he is better than another? Why it is prejudice coupled with ignorance. Someone once said, ''A man thought he was better than me, and he was, until he thought it.'' Makes one think, doesn't it? Prejudice and ignorance seem to march hand in hand.

A few years ago, I found myself in a very difficult situation. It was when I was working part-time at a company which hired temporary employees. Because of the nature of the business, it attracted people who were in-between jobs, or in-between no-jobs, and even people who were down-and-out. Many of the clients who came to the company were homeless or on welfare. Some were illiterate and others had only a few years of education. I recall one man was just out of prison and others were drifters. Several were here from foreign lands and spoke very little English. Many single women with children came who were desperate to earn a living. It was quite a collection of humanity.

For some reason, my heart was touched by each of their situations and, although it was challenging, I enjoyed trying to find work for them. I respected their desire to earn a living—as humble as it might be—and to become independent and self-supporting. The office staff, however, had worked there for many years and had grown weary of the difficult cases which showed up at the door. They considered many clients to be "throw-aways," "disposable," "of little worth." They were generally tolerant of the clients, face to face, that is, but were very degrading about them soon as they left. I found this to be distasteful and began to feel compassion for them. I grew more and more interested in the plight of the ''weary traveler''—so to speak, and my desire to treat them with respect hightened.

My heart felt heavy over this situation, until one Sunday, as I was sitting in church listening to a speaker, my mind was wandering when I heard the speaker say the word "redemption." REDEMPTION! REDEEMABLE! Why that is it! S & H Green Stamps—they are redeemable. We are redeemable. All people are like S & H Green Stamps. Redeemable!

Soon after that, two middle aged men, drifters, who were obviously good friends and had a great amount of respect for each other, entered the office. It became my responsibility to give them an initial interview and test. The written test was administered and one of the men failed miserably. It was humiliating for the man; and the two of them sat in silence for a few minutes when one man spoke up and said, "He might not be able to pass this test but he is very good with his hands." It was one of the most tender moments I have ever witnessed between two friends. They knew the worth of each other and they each valued their friendship. They indeed were like S & H Green Stamps. They were redeemable! Thank goodness we are all redeemable and of great worth.

LESSON FROM THE GARDEN

One hot summer day, I was very hungry and only a tomato could possibly quench my hunger pains. So, I meandered down the garden path to seek out a nice juicy red tomato. I found the perfect one that was pleasingly plump and warm from the sun. Delicious!

Dad, always busy building something, had started a wood pile just off the path. As I was walking barefoot and eating the tomato, I somehow ran my foot into an old weathered piece of wood and jammed a huge sliver into my foot. Oh, I couldn't believe it. It was so painful. How could I have been so foolish as to walk down the garden without shoes? I was really paying for it now. I ran up to the house but did not tell my mother because I had been warned many times not to go barefoot in the garden.

After a couple of days of suffering silently, I showed my infected foot to my mother. Out came the needle and the Mercurochrome. It seemed that the digging went on forever and it hurt like the dickens! Finally, the sliver was out and the Mercurochrome was dabbed onto my foot. What a relief! I have had other slivers, although that one was the most memorable, and I am always so amazed how such a small thing can hurt so much and feel so big.

There is one very valuable lesson I learned from the garden that day--always, always wear shoes when going into the garden because slivers are just waiting to hitch a ride in your foot; and once they are in, they do not magically fall out. Ouch! Actually, I learned a much greater lesson that day--there is wisdom in listening to and obeying mothers!

INTEGRITY

Many years ago, I was dutifully being the mother, wife, housekeeper, and family manager. At that time, I decided to buy a side of beef because the meat would be of a much greater quality and the cost would be much more affordable. The meat came cut, packaged, labeled and ready for the freezer. It was at that time that I rented a meat locker to store my newly purchased meat. I was so proud of my accomplishment and planning for my little family. We would have delicious, high quality meat for the next six months. I would plan out our menus for the next two weeks and then would go to the meat locker for the meat.

All was going well and I was so proud of myself as a little homemaker. After a couple of months, however, I noticed that there did not seem to be the same amount of packaged meat as there was the time before; and also, I was getting home and there would be liver and other inferior meat that I had no idea belonged to me. I was a little confused but thought all was well and that I just didn't know what I had purchased. Soon the meat was gone and I decided not to go that route again—you know, such an inconvenience to have to go back in those dark freezers to pull out meat.

A few years later, I learned that the owner of the meat locker was actually stealing the meat from unsuspecting renters for his own use. The light bulb went on. So that is what happened to my delicious, high quality meat. He was replacing it with inferior meat--taking two of mine and leaving one of his. Needless to say, I felt totally violated and disgusted with him. It was not surprising to learn that he went out of business. Life has such a way of paying us back for what we do to others. As I think about the owner of the meat locker, I am still appalled by his lack of honesty. However, I only lost meat, but he lost his integrity!


Integrity, to me, is the state of living, thinking, acting on a higher moral level. It is to have a ''high heart.'' Only the finest of qualities may be associated with integrity. Honesty, truth, sincerity, kindness, righteousness. I believe integrity to be the pinnacle of all human characteristics and one that should be honored and constantly pursued.

I REMEMBER WELL

I remember, yes, oh, so well
those faces that once looked down at me.
And now through the passage of time,
I look down at you--
and I felt as I did when a child.

Yes, I remember...
you.
Your soft sweet voice, your encouraging words--
when I was a child.

And I remember...
you.
Your tender heart and your gentle ways--
when I was a child.

To those old faces I spoke--
because I remember well.

But you.
I remember you too--very well,
your stern disapproving looks,
your harsh, unpleasant tones.
To you, I did not speak--
because I remember well.

I was afraid that old age had not mellowed
your stern disapproving looks,
your harsh, unpleasant tones.
I was afraid of you--
as when a child
for I remember well.
(5-16-79)

GRATITUDE SEEDS

Gratitude drops its blessed seeds;
The roots break through the earth.

The saplings stretch toward the sun;
Gratitude begins its birth.

The branches unfurl their budding leaves;
Cherished blessings are tenderly grown.

Now the sapling becomes a spreading oak;
Where gratitude seeds are sown.

MOTHER-CHILD

I wonder--
at what point in life did this metamorphosis begin?
Or, have you not noticed, Mother,
that you and I are changing places.
You as my frightened mother-child.
Me as your concerned daughter-mom.

I felt a sadness in my heart tonight, Mother
when I saw you as you must have once been--
a frightened child.
And I realized at that moment more than ever before
that the reality of growing old is really growing young--
childlike again.

"Now, Mother," said I,
"I know you are going to laugh when I tell you this.
But if you should become frightened tonight,
why don't you pray for comfort and courage to stay alone?"

We both laughed and then turned away with tears in our eyes
in the awkward, embarrassing way.
"See, Mother, I knew you would laugh!"
"Well,--I'll try just about anything...."

I wonder--
is this the way that it was meant to be;
first you to care for me through my childhood
and now I to care for you again through yours?

(First time my mother stayed by herself after the death of my father. April 22, 1979)

SMOOTH AND POLISHED

It was not by accident, but by design
that this little rock became smooth and polished.
Thousands of years
of rushing water
and torrents of winds
have made it so.
You, too, can become
smooth and polished--
day by day, week by week.
With just a little effort and a little time
you will be there--
smooth and polished.

GENTLE VIBRATIONS

I read once where we should seek out the good vibrations of friends. This thought caused me to wonder about vibrations coming from each other. Do we actually give off vibrations? Is there actually an energy that we each enamate? I have come to know that it is true. We can actually feel the good and the bad vibrations of others. We are naturally drawn to people whose vibrations are in harmony with ours. I believe this is why we are attracted to or pulled toward some people and not others.

We are much the same as the tuning fork which, when struck, causes sound waves to travel through the air until the waves reach the second tuning fork. The vibrations of the first fork then cause vibrations of the same frequency of the second fork. Interestingly, we desire to be with people of our same frequency so that we can vibrate in harmony together. This actually makes sense.

One evening, as my husband and I were out for our nightly walk, we came upon a family of crickets chirping. It was a lovely summer's sound and reminded both of us of our childhood. As we listened, we noticed that the chirping of the crickets were not only in unison, but in perfect harmony. If one cricket got slightly out of sync, it quickly fell into syncopation or rhythm with the others. Remarkably, they all stopped at once and then started up on perfect pitch, as if one had a baton and was leading the cricket orchestra.

I have a friend who always refers to me as her "kindred spirit." The first time she said it, I thought it was heart warming to hear those words; but in my conversations with her, I realized she knew things about me that other people had never picked up on. I was amazed that somehow she just knew things about me. I now realize that it was because she had similar interests and picked up on my vibrations. We have shared many wonderful conversations on our shared interest where I have learned so much from her. It has been a very rewarding friendship.

Is it possible to get into sync with people whose vibrations are not the same as ours? I believe that the answer is yes. I believe that it comes from learning to respect and appreciate differences. Some of my most favorite people in the whole wide world are completely opposite of me but I have grown to love our differences and find them to be wonderful. We have learned to feel the unique and gentle vibrations of each other. It can be extremely rewarding.

We once stayed in a motel which had big white rockers on the entrance porch. A group of us sat out one night and watched the rain fall and chatted about things both great and small. I noticed that it did not take long for our rockers to fall into sync with each other. Even when one person started rocking faster, the others followed. When one got out of sync, the others naturally slowed down and waited until we were in harmony with one another.

Ah, gentle vibrations--I have been drawn to the gentle vibrations of so many wonderful people and feel blessed to call them "friend."

THE WEDDING GOWN

My mother was a wonderful seamstress; and for my sister’s wedding, she lovingly made her wedding dress. Mother took pains-taking care of every seam and every stitch on the gown. She had worked on it day and night in order to get it finished in time. Eight little hand-covered buttons were sewn down the lower arm to the wrist. The dress was very elegant—something that Audrey Hepburn would surely wear.
One day, my sister was trying on the nearly-finished gown to make sure everything fit perfectly. And while Mother took a tuck here and a tuck there, I stood back and admired how lovely my sister looked in the satin dress. Without knowing it, I had pricked my finger on a pin and then touched the dress on the sleeve by the buttons. Oh, goodness, a drop of blood fell onto the sleeve. I was in shock. I thought I had ruined the entire wedding dress. For a few seconds, I did not know what to do, and my stomach started to churn, but I finally decided that it was best to tell my mother what had happened. She quickly dabbed at the satin cloth and got the entire stain out. I was relieved. Both my mother and sister went on about their business of altering the dress. I was afraid that I was in trouble, but they never said a word. I almost started to cry not because of what I had done but how my mother and sister had reacted to it. It is amazing how powerful kindness can be. My mother knew the value of remaining calm in difficult circumstances. I have always appreciated her hallmark quality of kindness. She was always a wonderful example to me.

LEAF PEEPING

One glorious fall day, my husband and I decided to go “leaf peeping” along the Alpine Loop. It was an absolutely gorgeous day and we were enjoying ourselves so much. We took a side road and ended up by a reservoir where could see an outhouse up ahead. So my husband decided to pull over.

Quite a crowd had gathered outside the outhouse and interestingly enough, they were all dressed in their nicest clothes. My husband jumped out of the car but I stayed in when a man turned to me and laughing hysterically, started giving me hand signals. He was plugging his nose and pointing downward, he acted as though he was jangling something in his hand. What was this all about?

I then noticed a handsome young man in a partial tuxedo. He had his jacket off, his sleeves were rolled up, and he was walking around almost in a panic. I soon discovered that this was a wedding party and after the ceremony, the entire group decided to take a drive to “leaf peep” along the golden roads of the Alpine Loop. It seems that the groom decided to use the outhouse and neglected to take his keys out of his pocket. Yes, you can see what’s coming, can’t you? The keys slipped from his pocket and landed in the pit below. The men held the young groom upside down over the hole of the pit while he tried to reach, in vain, for the sinking keys.

My husband came out of the out house as quickly as possible and we sped away frightened that they might ask for volunteers. To this day, I laugh hysterically to the point of crying when I think of that lovely day on the Alpine Loop. Just a side note, we never did see the bride. I am sure she was also fearful of being asked to volunteer and was in hiding. What a way to start a marriage!

BISQUICK BISCUITS

Did I ever tell you about my experience with making Bisquick biscuits for the State Fair? For a couple of years, my sister and I were in a 4-H club called The Busy Fingers. Our leaders were a mother and daughter team and they devoted an afternoon every week to teach us the basics of homemaking. It was a fun and yet a difficult experience for me because sometimes, being the young girl that I was, I just "didn't get it!" The goal of our leaders was to enter our Bisquick biscuits in the State Fair. Week after week, we would practice making perfect Bisquick biscuits--actually, I don't remember making anything but Bisquick biscuits! The older leader was an old no-nonsense woman who had little patience for the likes of me. One time I was measuring the flour and had emptied everything from the sieve into the bowl except the remaining flour in the rim. So, I turned the sieve over and dumped the remaining flour in. By the time she got through with me, I was determined to never, never, never dump unsifted flour into a bowl gain—not for the rest of my life! Anyway, that is beside the point. The State Fair finally came and we baked up a storm of Bisquick biscuits. I just knew that mine would take 1st place for sure and at the least 2nd place. Well would it surprise you to find out that my biscuits took 3rd place. Boy, that was a disappointment. I guess I could have become discouraged for the rest of my life and determined to never make Bisquick biscuits again. Actually, I'm not sure if I have ever made them again. They are not all that good. Anyway, my point is that I could have become discouraged and decided to never to cook or bake again. That would have been foolish on my part. I actually learned a lot from those biscuits. I learned to measure, mix and fold flour, to crack eggs, and to bake biscuits to just the right golden-brown. Accomplishments do not mean that we have to come in 1st or 2nd—they just mean that we have to learn from them.

ENOUGH SAID

Several years ago, my young family had gathered around the table for what was to be our usual evening meal. It was not long before my husband and I embarked upon what I call a ''peas and carrots'' discussion. You know, I was convinced that the answer was ''peas,'' and the more I insisted upon it, the more determined he was the answer was ''carrots.'' We were getting nowhere fast. Neither of us was going to be convinced to the contrary.

The dinner scene was becoming uncomfortable. Our children sat in dead silence as we each defended our personal position on the subject. He shifted back and forth in his seat and my stomach churned. The air was thick with ''vegetable soup'' flying around!

Our children watched and listened intently. Then our very sensible five-year old daughter could endure it no longer. Finally, she rose from her chair and stood by my side. Quietly, she whispered into my ear, ''Mother, this is getting sickening. And, can I have another drink of lemonade?'' Enough said!

That particular dinner was quite an eye-opener. I have marveled to myself at the great insight an innocent child can have. I realized the importance of eliminating ''peas and carrots'' discussions—especially in front of the children. They are fruitless and only cause greater misunderstandings.

In Alma 32:23 we read:

…little children do have words given unto them many times which confound the wise and the learned.

And so we have learned from an innocent child to have greater understanding and acceptance of another person's opinion. I hope that someday when I grow-up, I will be just like my five-year old!
Written in 1985

THE LOOM

We each sit at a loom and become the weaver of our life. Daily, we work the spinning wheel and interlace our life's tapestry with all shades of rich colors, textures, and threads. The design is interwoven with people who, by touching our life, have mingled their threads with ours. Various colors add to the interest and beauty of the tapestry and, miraculously, a single golden thread is woven throughout. As we run our fingers across the tapestry, it feels as though life was spun together perfectly making for a lovely pattern. It is beautiful—a sight to behold. But as one turns the tapestry over, many loose threads dangle—some have become tangled, twisted, and even knotted. Some threads have had to be cut off and others stitched up, and some have had to be replaced in order to become stronger and more resilient. Colors have dimmed and appear not to be as vibrant and beautiful as before. One can only conclude that many days have been filled with joy and satisfaction, and many days have not. Yet, daily we sit at the loom and diligently weave our masterpiece. Gratefully, at day’s end, we may see threads blended intricately together creating a beautifully woven tapestry—for a single golden thread of Deity was woven throughout.

HAVING IT YOUR WAY

My father was really a very wise man. On many occasions in my life, Dad gave me the opportunity to make decisions that would affect the entire family. I remember one time when my parents were buying a new car and Dad asked me what color I thought they should chose. Mind you, we did not buy new cars often and the color chosen would last for years. I thought about it for a minute and decided on gray as the perfect color. I secretly knew that gray was my dad’s favorite color and that gray is the color he would have chosen. Gray it was.

Another time, my dad had receive a small inheritance from an old uncle and it was decided by my parents to buy a stereo console--an extravagance for our family. Dad took my sister and me to help chose which console would be perfect for our home. I knew exactly which one Mother and Dad had in mind, and so I choose that one.

Every year at Christmas time, Mother and Dad would take us to pick out the family Christmas tree. Wouldn’t you know it, I always selected the one that I thought Dad felt was the most beautiful. This may not have always been the case for it seems that Dad would have to get out his saw and drill and rearrange the branches to make it more perfect.

The point is, I learned early in my life how fulfilling it is to leave selfish wishes behind and to make people’s desires more important than mine. I guess Dad knew that this was a lesson I needed to learn and he had a very clever way of doing it. I’m not saying that you should always put the desires of others above your own, but there are times when it is just not that important to have it your way.

STRAWBERRY SEEDS

I was taught a powerful lesson one morning as I rose from my sleep. One side of my mouth felt swollen and inflamed. It was so tender and hurtful that I was not able to eat my breakfast, and I concluded that because of the soreness of my mouth that I was in for some extensive dental work. While I was brushing my teeth that morning, I noticed a seed from a strawberry, which I had eaten the day before, was caught up under my gum. Amazingly, as soon as the seed was removed, my mouth began to heal.

Imagine, something so tiny having such a big effect on how I felt. It was fresh strawberry season and I, along with my family, had eaten a bowl of strawberries for dinner the night before. They were delicious, tasting almost like sugar, but the tiny seed, which seemed too small to matter, became a detriment to my mouth. Oh my, how wonderful it felt to have it removed from my gum.

I couldn’t help but think how small things in life can have such a big effect on us. I thought of those moments when I have been irritated with someone while driving or impatient with a sales clerk. I thought of the times when I did not take the opportunity to be kinder to someone or help them to feel better about themselves. They are just small things but they add up and are like having a mouth full of tiny strawberry seeds lodged in the gum line—they can hurt and become inflamed and actually be harmful to your soul. Now each time I eat a strawberry, I am reminded how small things can make such a difference not only in my life but in the life of others.

MRS. ROGER'S NEIGHBORHOOD

Where would Mr. Roger's Neighborhood be found? If you looked on the map, I believe you would find it on Pioneer Avenue in Historic Sandy. I was raised on Pioneer Avenue. It was a charming little street that had a dead end at the top. Not much traffic, except for those who lived there, and the school and grocery store were through the block. It was a great place to be raised. Not much going on. I guess you could say that grasshoppers and night crawlers were the biggest distraction in our little neighborhood. Crickets, June bugs, caterpillars, and butterflies--these were all a part of the comings and goings in our neck of the woods.

I recently attended a conference where Mr. Roger's Neighborhood was the main theme. I guess his neighborhood is the ultimate of all neighborhoods. It was one where everyone cared about each other, looked out for each other, and served each other. It was one where living next door really counts. It gave one special privileges and often paved the way for love and nurturing that sometimes is not felt at home. One man said, ''If you only understood how important you are to those around you, to the little people, you would take extra care to cherish and nurture them.”

Another gentlemen who spoke said that he had been searching for that one big thing in his life to make him feel like he was really doing something good. He discovered that for him that big thing was to serve the little people around him.

I feel so blessed to have been raised in my own little version of Mr. Roger's Neighborhood.

THICK GLASSES

Sometimes when I put my reading glasses on, things look out of sort and slightly blurry. My head starts to swim and I feel like my equilibrium is slightly off. I see things in a distorted manner and I think, ''What is the matter with my eyes. Why can't I see clearly?'' It never fails, I take my glasses off and realize that my right lens has fallen out. It is amazing to me that the missing lens would make such a difference in the way I see things.

Our nation is at war. Decisions have been made by old men who wear thick glasses to send our young men and women off to foreign lands to place their lives on the line in behalf of our nation and innocent people. The leaders in foreign lands wear thick glasses also.

The lens of our world seems to be distorted right now and I wonder how clearly we are seeing things. How is it possible for two nations to look through the same lens and yet see things so differently. I believe Attorney General John Ashcroft put it in a profound, succinct and most clear way when he said, ''Islam is a religion in which God requires you to send your son to die for him.'' ''Christianity is a faith in which God sent his Son to die for you.''

We are daily bombarded with news broadcasts about the last incident that happened just 15 minutes ago. I become captivated by the current maneuvers of our soldiers and then I see the men with olive skin, black eyes, and black beards. The thought goes through my mind, ''This man who is an enemy is some mother's son. I am sure she loves him as much as I love my sons. She has hopes and dreams about his future. She wants him to grow into an honorable, righteous man. How could our sons from separate worlds-- and yet loved the same by their mother's--view the world so differently?

As this war has unfolded, I have seen grown men with looks of despair weep as they run for safety with babes in arm and veiled wives close behind. The children seem to be confused and are ever watchful of their parents. As I look at them, I see that they are not so different after all. They are just a family who wants what we all want—food, shelter, protection, freedom. Perhaps we do see the world through the same glasses. Ghandi was once quoted as saying, ''When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love has always won. There have been tyrants and murderers, and for a time they seem invincible, but in the end they always fall. Think of it…always.''

This morning I witnessed, through our media, the statue of Saddam Hussein being toppled. Many Iraqi men clubbed the base of the statue trying to chip away at it. I am sure it was their way of ridding themselves of Saddam's evil presence. Some even climbed on top and threw a rope around the neck in an desperate attempt to bring it down. But it was not until the American soldiers came with their heavy equipment did the statue topple. The Iraqi men raised their voices in jubilation. One man said that for the first time is his 40 years he will finally be free. The streets are now filled with hundreds of men and children parading through the streets with banners waving, and shirts flying. Imagine, for the first time in years, the feelings of cautious freedom. Jubilation is a good word to describe the scenes I see.

Recently, we saw where the thick glasses of hatred and vengeance were taken off. One young U.S. soldier was taken captive and as hard as she fought not to be taken by the enemy, the Iraqi soldiers captured her, broke both legs, her arm and ribs. She was listed as missing but was actually in a hospital where a young Iraqi lawyer went to visit his wife who was also in the hospital. He saw the young American soldier and went to her bed and whispered, "'I will help you.'' He traveled back and forth six miles on foot several times in order to contact proper authorities. Did he place his own life on the line for hers? Yes. How thick were the lens of his glasses?

I believe we have it within ourselves as brothers and sisters living here upon this earth to take our thick glasses off. I believe we can see each other through the eyes of love and acceptance. It is a decision away. It is a choice we can all make. I know it is possible.

ACCUMULATON AND POSSESSIONS, AT WHAT PRICE?

At what price do we accumulate possessions? I worked for a fellow who from outward appearances had it all. He was constantly buying things for his wife and children—new carpeting, appliances, sofas, grand piano, and more. I was somewhat awestruck with what I thought was his wonderful financial abilities. After a while, I became aware that he was struggling with his business but little did I know that his finances were hanging by a string, not a rope, but a string. He was on the brink of financial disaster. Yet, the trucks arrived daily with new accumulation for his home and family. It was not until my paycheck started bouncing and the harassing phone calls from creditors started coming in for him that I realized the true depth of his indebtedness.

He was becoming a nervous wreck and soon began coming to work with alcohol on his breath. I finally quit working there—couldn't take it any longer. I saw him years later coming out of a bar in the middle of the day. I think I know the terrible results of his need, or his wife's need, to accumulate stuff. He paid a terrible price for his indebtedness in order to have temporary, non-fulfilling possessions--for unfortunately, what he obtained and possessed was never enough to satisfy. The price was just too great.

CERAMIC DUCK

The excitement of expectation, the joy of anticipation, is such a deliciously wonderful way to live. There are certain things I expect from my life, my family, my work, my play. I learned a long time ago that each of us has our own expectations from life. What is good for one person is not necessarily good for the other. I am very grateful that we do not all have to be the same. That would make life to mundane and boring. I am grateful that our level of expectations are different—some are simple and others are complicated. It is all about what we want in of life.

One day a neighbor came to my home. She was on some sort of campaign against ceramic ducks. It seems that every home she went in to had a ceramic duck on its counter top. She insisted on knowing whether or not I had one. I was startled at her inquiry. I did not understand why this had become an issue with her but I was satisfied in my mind that my reputation was on the line with her. I was obviously on shaky ground so I refused to tell her whether or not I had a duck.

Well, the truth is, I loved my ceramic duck. It was white and had a blue poka dot ribbon around its neck. It was darling. I made it myself in a ceramic class. It made my kitchen look homey and welcoming.

As I have thought about that experience in my life, I have found it to be mildly amusing but have realized that our life styles are very personal. What works for one person does not work for the other. My ceramic duck made me feel good about myself and my home, but it obviously did the opposite for her. I was so sad the day the ceramic duck was knocked off the counter top and broke into pieces. Well, I'll just fill up that spot with something else that I have been anticipating!

SHELF BUILDING DAY

Today is a beautiful wintry day. A light blanket of snow fell last night and has enveloped the earth. I went walking just to clear the cob webs.

As the webs cleared, a beautiful idea marched forth. "Build some shelves today." On the first shelf, I will place large Kerr jars with new rings and lids so that they will seal properly. Into these jars I will place all hurt feelings and unkind words which have been spoken towards me. The jars will contain the memory of anything which has caused me hurt by others. After placing all the wrongs in the jars, I will seal the jars tightly so that no hurt feelings can escape the rest of the day. These jars I will label, "Forgive Others."

The second shelf will hold jars with mistakes I have made. They include hurtful words and thoughts about others or anything that might cause another to anguish at my hands. The lids are placed on the jars loosely just in case I need to put more in. How important it is to recognize our wrongs and then rectify them. These jars I will label, "Forgive Ourselves."

The third shelf will be filled with squeaky clean Kerr jars. They sparkle and shine. A brilliant light flows from each jar. There are no lids or rings found on this shelf for the contents desire to flow freely. I will fill these jars with good thoughts, good words, and all sweet and tender feelings--anything that is lovely and good natured. These jars, I will label "Christlike Feelings."

I will close the doors on the first and second shelves today. The third shelf, I will let fill my soul.

THE SEA, THE SEA, SHE BECKONS TO ME

It has always been my dream to watch the sunrise over the horizon of the ocean; so one perfectly lovely summer morning, I arose early to watch. The sky was already waking from a sleepy night for a hint of light was peeking through my window. Hurry, hurry, time is passing and the sunrise will not wait! It had been my desire to go to the sea to think, to feel, and to write.

Not wanting to miss a single ray of light from the rising sun, I walked briskly along the boardwalk. It was dusted with a layer of fine sand and stuck to the bottom of my feet. Tall grass swayed gently in the breeze and the meandering wooden fence sloped gently along the contour of the sand mounds which boarded the entrance of paradise. In the distance was the lovely view of the seascape and I could hear the thunder of the rolling waves. Oh my! I felt almost breathless as I considered the possibilities of inspiration, wonderment, and fulfillment which awaited me. There it was before me, a splendid array of color which was reflected on the surface of the ocean. It was simply beautiful and spectacular at the same time. To my surprise, a handful of people had also gathered to watch the sunrise. They were a distance down the beach and so I felt alone.

The sand looked warm and inviting, so off came my shoes so that I could feel it between my toes. I dug my feet into the sand and as the waves came toward me and then rolled back, the sand dissolved beneath my feet causing me to feel slightly dizzy. I felt like I was being pulled into the ocean. What fun! This beautiful picture of peace, tranquility, and serenity lasted for a long time. It felt surreal for I was truly living what I had dreamed of doing for so many years.

After a while, sea shells were deposited with each wave as it rolled in . They were, "Gifts From the Sea," just as Anne Morrow had promised. How could I resist? I simply had to have my gifts and so began gathering my own collection of shells.

I felt that I must tell my paper what my heart was feeling for I had anxiously waited for the moment when I could go to the sea to think, to feel, and to write. And so with paper and pen in hand, I began:

I have gone to the sea. I have collected my shells. "Her Majesty, the Deep," has flirted and tried to draw me in. She reaches with her foamy fingers and beckoned me into her belly. I wink back and am drawn further into the mesmerizing, flirtatious, beckoning of her majestic waves.

She teases me with her gifts as each wave lays on the shore the gifts which only she can bear. I quickly grab at them for her teasing ways will try to snatch them away from me. I have collected my treasures and my jar is full. I have selected the ones which please my eye and the others, I toss back.

My paper is moist, my pen skips a line, and the breeze causes the paper to flip. I have found much joy today and my dream to go to the sea has been fulfilled. The sea comes bearing gifts and I joyfully receive. But the sea, the sea, The taunting sea. She snatches the one, But leaves me three.

The breeze is gentle. The salty-sea air is cool. It is filled with moisture and I can feel the heaviness of it on my skin. Oh, the sea, the sea, she beckons to me.
(Unedited notes from my book "Finding Fulfillment" lpstirling)

CRUSHING BLOW

When I was in high school, I received a crushing blow. I was in an English class and had been asked to write a paper on an interesting character in my life. I knew exactly who it would be about and went to work immediately on the paper. It was one of the finest pieces that I have ever written. But much to my chagrin, when the paper came back I had received a C+. I could not believe my eyes. What was she thinking? Who did she think she was, the teacher or something? Surely, this was one of the greats in the world of literature. After all I was only following the examples of Steinbeck and Hemingway.

Although I was completely crushed by her evaluation of my writing abilities, I kept that paper tucked away; and a few years ago, I came across it in my box of stuff. I reluctantly read it not wanting to have to admit to myself that it was actually as mediocre as she had declared by her C+. Much to my delight, I found the paper to be well written, thoughtful, and worthy of reading aloud to my class of giggly teenage peers. I thought to myself, "This is clearly an A paper."

I came to realize, later in life, that my paper was just one in a stack of dozens sitting on her desk. Why on earth would I allow her to tell me that my writing abilities are only worth a C+? I am grateful that I did not become discouraged by the grade she gave me. On the contrary, I have continued to write and to express myself as only Steinbeck and Hemingway would have expected of me.

PROFOUND SENTENCE

The most profound sentence I have ever seen was short and to the point. One night as I was enjoying the heavenly skies, I noticed the silvery, crescent shaped moon. Next to it was a bright and beautiful star. They were side by side. Somehow my mind turned that visual into a sentence, which read: Moon-Period. I thought to myself that there was not much more to say. It was bold. It was simple, to the point, and most profound--"Moon-Period." The End.

THE CLOTHESLINE

I didn't know that God has a clothesline until one morning when I was out for my daily walk. I was innocently walking along humming a tune when I noticed the big round beaming sun, which had just risen in the east, and was about a good four inches above the mountains. "Hum," I thought, "she is beautiful today." I continued my stroll, when much to my delight, I looked to the west and saw the moon. It, too, was large and round and glowing, and to my amazement, was about four inches above the mountains. "Wow," I thought, "he couldn't be more spectacular." So I continued my walk when I happened to look up and saw a jet stream across the entire canopy of the sky. Wonder of all wonders, it connected the sun and the moon together. "Wow," I mumbled, "that looks like a clothesline." And then, unbelieveably, I noticed five birds in a row suspended in air just below the jet stream. I could not believe my eyes. Those poor birds were obviously drenched and had to be hung out to dry. That's when I first discovered that God has a clothesline.

KEEPING JOURNALS

We are admonished by so many people to write in our journals daily, to crystallize our thoughts so that we may learn who we are, what we think, feel, and what we dream about. A journal helps us to remember experiences, to glean new ideas, to laugh, cry, think, ponder, wonder, question, and to examine our inner thoughts.

I started keeping a "daily journal" years ago. However, there was so much going on in my busy life that it almost became impossible for me to record everything, and I felt somewhat over-whelmed. I then realized that I had focused on many negative things and re-reading them brought me sadness. That was certainly not the intention of my daily journaling.

I then started my "gut-wrenching journal" where I purged my negative thoughts and got all that nasty poison out of my system. I actually found this to be helpful for as soon as I was through madly writing, I would rip it up and throw it away. Bye Bye bad thoughts!

I next started my "happy journal" where I wrote about experiences which brought me a great measure of happiness. I enjoyed this for a time, but felt a little unfulfilled with that approach.

After that I started my "gratitude journal" which is a delight to read but did not paint the whole picture.

I finally started writing a "purpose" journal and I found true gratification.

So, now I have my "daily journal," my "gut-wrenching journal," my "gratitude journal, " and my "purpose journal." I have since added a "thought journal." I feel so inspired!

Yes it is true, I have been a bit fickle with my journal writing. Yet, I continue to enjoy writing my experiences, feelings, and inner thoughts. Sometimes my thoughts are funny, sometimes they are sad. Sometimes they are profound, and sometimes they are glad. It has taken me many years to sort out which thing should go into which journal. I am afraid that some day, when I am old and senile, I will probably get mixed up and rip up my "happy journal" and save my "gut-wrenching journal."

Oh, this world of journaling has become so complicated for me. I may have to start another journal "How to keep track of my 'daily journal,' my 'gut-wrenching journal,' my 'gratitude journal,' my 'purpose journal,' and my 'thought journal!'" Is there enough room on the shelf? Woe is me!

GOODNIGHT

Each night before I go to bed,
I say goodnight to the moon and the stars.
I wonder, "Who created you?"
"I know, I know!"
Some how I feel comforted knowing
there is Someone greater,
much, much greater,
who is watching over this old world.
I say "Goodnight, my friend, the moon.
Goodnight, my friends, the stars.
Goodnight Father, my Peace!"

AN ORDERLY LIFE

I have just a sliver of memory when I was toddler. I distinctly remember that the plastered walls of my bedroom, which I shared with my twin and probably older siblings, were painted dusty rose--my father's favorite color because it reminded him of his flowers. My crib was against the corner wall and a regular sized bed was next to it. A chest of drawers with bobbled legs was placed by the entry door and was stuffed with clothes, treasures, odds and ends, an all sorts of things.

It must have been in the morning, for the bed was not made and the room felt cluttered with clothes and toys on the floor. I remember standing in the crib in my pajamas. My hair was tangled as though I had been tossing and turning all night--straggly as I remember it. I had woken up and my mother came into the room to get me out of the crib. I told my mother that a "too too train went through my bed last night." She thought that was so cute. I do too. It was cute. I was cute!

Although I was just a toddler, I remember vividly how I felt. I didn't like the room that particular morning. It was displeasing to me. It felt unkempt. I have never liked that feeling. I like order in my life, in my thoughts, in my actions, and in my home. I think I was an orderly person in the pre-existence. It seems to be a predominant characteristic of mine. I love cleanliness, order, and a certain routine. My soul wells up with feelings of anxiety if my life is not in order. Thank heavens for files, folders, and organizing boxes. It just makes life so much easier for me. I can think, feel, and function more clearly if I have order in my life.

I am grateful for my memory, although just a sliver, for it helps me to understand myself better. I was born this way. After all if a "too too train" is going to run through my bedroom at night, I had better have the room in straight and in order. Wouldn't want the passengers to see my room out of sorts!

ONE DROP AT A TIME

One day many years ago, as I was irrigating, a gentle flow of water filled the ditch and meandered throughout the garden. It was an easy, smooth flow and was quite manageable. The water crept along the dirt and soaked deep into the dried, parched ground. This beautiful little scene lasted only a short time for someone opened the valve at the head gate allowing a massive wall of water to come shooting down the ditch. I was amazed. What had been a gentle flow of water just minutes before was now an angry rush of water. Quickly, the ditch bank over-flowed and became completely washed out. I placed wooden checks throughout the yard in order to manage the gushing flow. Our yard was saved. Unfortunately, the garden of the neighbor was completely flooded and mud was everywhere. What a mess.

Water is very powerful. Even the slightest drip from a leaky faucet can, over time, wear down a porcelain sink. I have seen it happen. I have actually seen rocks which were worn and hollowed from the constant flow of water. Caves have been carved out from water and worn down by the wind. It is all so amazing.

Just as the water and the winds have carved and smoothed the rocks, I, too, desire to be smoothed and polished. My jagged edges need a constant buffing in order for me to become the refined woman I desire to be. It does not happen all at once. It takes a great deal of time.

I have learned that we are smoothed and polished by design. It is our purpose in being here on earth. Over the years, I have had my own collection of rocks, or burdens, which have needed polishing. Thankfully, I have seen refining take place for I am not as quick to judge. I remain silent more often. I feel more pain and suffering in my weaknesses. I see more good in others. I express my love openly more often. I genuinely respect and admire others who at another time may have caused me jealously. I feel compassion and rejoice in the accomplishments of others and feel sorrow for their failures. Yes, I believe that time has smoothed and polished me somewhat.

Sometimes a jut or jagged edge sticks out but I know that through the natural process of rippling, flowing waters that they too will be smoothed and refined. "A river comes from a stream. A stream comes from a creek. A creek comes from a drop of water. (anon.)" That is how the polishing takes place--just one drop at a time--and then a river flows. What are the little drops of water that turn into a creek, and then a stream, and then into a river to polish and smooth our souls? The answer is found in Alma 7:23-24: ...be humble, and be submissive and gentle; easy to be entreated; full of patience and long-suffering; being temperate in all things; being diligent in keeping the commandments of God at all times; asking for whatsoever things ye stand in need both spiritual and temporal; giving thanks unto God for whatsoever things ye do receive. See that ye have faith, and charity, and then ye will always abound in good works. (Taken from my personal notes of "Finding Fulfillment.")

EVENING IN PARIS

When I was in junior high, I took library science as one of my elective classes. Miss Pinigree was the librarian and I got to know her only as an immature junior high student could get to know an adult. Miss Pinigree was a rather unattractive, unpleasant, and difficult person to be around--or so I felt. I thought she was bossy and I caught on quickly that her sharp tongue could cut deeply and her flashing eyes could pierce clear through you. Her short temper seemed to be near the surface and caused the students to step lightly in the library. She was a short, squatty woman, built like a box. Her dark brown hair was streaked with gray and tight finger waves surrounded her face. She had a rather gaudy yet flamboyant style of dress and often wore garbs that were enhanced with sparkles, bangles, and bobbles. Gold bracelets, necklaces, and dangling earrings were draped over her body. I had never seen so much jewelery on one person at one time. To top that off, her cheap perfume made my stomach churn as she passed by. I believe it was "Evening in Paris." I felt very uncomfortable in her presence and did not like being in the library with her. It was like living on the edge of terror from one moment to the next.

One day, however, she confided in me that she would be "receiving a gentleman caller" that evening. She was so happy and I could sense in her that she thought he might be the "special one." But I knew within my heart that the relationship was not going anywhere. I concluded that there was a reason why she was a old spinster--it was her unpleasant personality. Sure enough, she never mentioned him again. I wondered at the time if the anticipated "evening in Paris" was like an "evening from purgatory" for the "gentleman caller."

I don't think she lasted too long at the school. She didn't seem to fit in. She was different from other people in the area. Her difference should have made her interesting to be with and a joy to be around but it did not.

When I think about Miss Pinigree, I wonder if I had met her as an adult if my experience would have been different with her--I am sure it would have. Really, was she all that bad? I am sure she was not. After all these years, I wonder if she ever found a "gentleman caller" who decided to stay. She was most likely just a lonely lady who wanted someone to care for her and to love her. I have concluded that we often misunderstand others when we are immature and do not have the ability to see the picture clearly. I can only say, "Miss Pinigree, I hope you finally had a wonderful "evening in Paris" with a "gentleman caller" who saw you not as an old spinster but recognized the loveliness within you.

WORDS, WORDS, WORDS

Many years ago, I was watching an old-time movie. The actors were very colorful and rich in character. In addition to being a black and white movie, the language used was very dated. One fellow said to the other, "You insufferable odeous lout!" Why, I had never heard those words before. They were very descriptive and brought a smile to my face. Because I did not exactly know what that meant, I immediately took out my dictionary and discovered that insufferable means intolerable or unbearable. Odious means loathing, disgusting, or offensive. Lout means clumsy, stupid fellow or boor. So, to translate the phrase, it could be said, "You intolerable, disgusting, boor!"

We have lost so many of the quaint words and phrases from yesteryear but have gained new ones like "totally rad." Words that were so innocent years ago, like "gay," which meant to be happy or blissful, have now taken on other meanings. I remember when the word "awesome" meant "inspiring wonderment." It now means, "cool." "Cool" use to mean "temperature slightly warmer than cold." It now means "totally rad." "Totally rad or radical" use to mean "complete, extreme change." It comes full circle and now means, "cool!" It is all so confusing. Words have been overused and misused so often that they do not quite have the same meaning. Sometimes, I get mixed up and say "thongs" meaning beach shoes but the whole world thinks it mean "skimpy underwear." "Britches," on the otherhand, is another word we seldom use any more. It use to mean, "pants," both inner and outer! I'm not sure what it means now. I personally like to use the old phrase, "okie, dokie" because it is crystal clear, to the point, and very difficult to get mixed up. All in all, words, with their old or new meanings, give me a "hankering" to use them more often and in a "muiltiplicity" of ways. Words--use them often, "okie dokie?"