So...today's lesson in Relief Society was on repentance. In the middle of a somewhat boring rendition of the lesson with no participation, a lady raised her hand from the back of the room and asked, "How can we have the desire to sin no more? I have repented in the past and had no desire to sin, then as time goes on and circumstances change, I begin to entertain the thought of rationalizing the sin again."
Then, she hung her head and tearfully asked, "What do I do?"
Well, as you can guess, the class collectively turned in their seats and raised their hands. Each sister, in one form or another, offered her own testimony, advice, comfort, and love to that sister. It was truly a remarkable occurrence. What a sweet ward! What a sweet moment!
I offer this up, not to tell of that moment, but to tell you what one sister said that seemed quite profound. She mentioned listening to the radio while coming home from work one day. There was a man speaking on the topic of what three things successful men have in common. She remembered thinking that she didn't like listening to that kind of talk, but yet, did not change the station. Next, the man proceeded to list those three things. The first thing on the list was that when these men got in their cars, they had DVD's of motivational speeches playing. Now this sister hated motivational speakers even more that to topic of successful people...and just about changed the channel, but before she could reach for the dial, the question was asked, "Why would men who were already motivated to succeed constantly surrounding themselves with more motivational tapes?"
Curious as to the answer, the sister withdrew her hand and waited to hear the response. Its simple answer came: "Because motivation doesn't last forever."
As the sister pondered that answer, it hit her hard. That is why we read the scriptures over and over again. That is why we pray over and over again. That is why we go to church over and over again. That is why we take the sacrament over and over again. We may have a testimony now; we may feel the spirit now; we may have the desire to sin no more now, but those feelings do not last. We must constantly feed our testimony. We must constantly repent. We must constantly do those things to keep the spirit in our lives so that we can always have a testimony, feel the spirit, and desire to sin no more.
This is nothing new. You all know it, but in the context of the story she told, it made all the sense in the world. Perfection is a lifetime process and enduring to the end means we read scriptures every day, pray every day, repent every day, and re-covenant every Sunday....because those righteous feelings don't last forever.
May it ever be so with my posterity and me.
Sunday, March 8, 2015
Sunday, January 25, 2015
Lock Your Doors...
I have often had thoughts enter my mind...what if this or that happened?...and then found myself in that very predicament in short order. This has happened so frequently that I picked up on the pattern of the power of my thoughts. I tell you one brief example today, because a Sunday School teacher helped me to find the answer.
When I was young, I thought I had fat lips. I was embarrassed by how fat they seemed to me in comparison to other people. It was my image of myself. As I look at pictures of me as a child, I don't see it now, but back then I thought many times that I must have an African relative for me to have lips that I compared to theirs. I secretly had this unspoken thought for years, then, one day, as a young adult at college, I happened to pass a house with a young black man entering, and I thought to myself, "I wonder if I were to kiss a black man would two pair of lips that were the same size make a difference in how it felt to kiss?" An odd thought. But, that thought kept running through my mind.
Before the week was out, I was at a dance hall just yearning to dance and still was on the sidelines. I watched the girls who got asked by all guys getting to dance every dance, and I was pretty despondent. (This is what usually happened to me.) As I sat on the sidelines, a black boy came in the 'all white' establishment. He watched those girls who I knew had danced with everyone there. I watched him proceed to ask every one of them. They all turned him down. Now I was angry with those girls. I was angry that Provo residents (they probably in hind sight were not Mormon, but then, I assumed they were) were so prejudiced that they would not even so much as dance with him.
You guessed it. To me, I was his last choice, but of course I leaped at the chance to dance, and I thought to myself that I was a good example of Mormons to him because I was not prejudiced. Well, you guessed it. Since no one else would dance with him...except me, we danced the entire night and I LOVE dancing...and the pheromones of music always contribute passion in dancing. He was not a member, so I felt even more compelled to show him that in this Mormon town, we don't treat blacks like he had been treated.
Without any more details, since I had walked to the dance club, he offered to drive me home. Upon leaving, those people threw rocks at us and yelled horrible names to both of us while that man protected me. I had no clue at the time why we were being so persecuted and I wondered if this was what always happened to black people. We ran to his car and drove in silence...and when he took me home, the kissing was so passionate I cannot tell you to this day if the size of lips made a difference because that was the least thing on my mind.
Well, that was not the end of that young man in my life. But I can tell you it would have been better for me that I had not met him. After finally having the willpower to end that relationship, I wondered how it had happened that so fast after my thought, I was placed in that exact predicament.
Well today's lesson answered that question. A person read this quote by President Kimball:
"It is extremely difficult, if not impossible, for the devil to enter a door that is closed. He seems to have no keys for locked doors. But if a door is slightly ajar, he gets his toe in, and soon this is followed by his foot, then by his leg and his body and his head, and finally he is in all the way." https://www.lds.org/manual/teachings-spencer-w-kimball/chapter-10?lang=eng
After the quote, the teacher said, "Sometimes all it takes is entertaining a thought to set the door ajar."
I was a little shocked. You see, we had just gone over the Joseph Smith translation to verify that the Spirit was the one who transported Jesus during his 40 days of fasting and Satan came to him. It was also after I had heard a talk about not entertaining time to research those things that the anti-Mormons preach against us, but to spend our time entertaining study and thoughts on what we know to be true.
I guess my reason for posting this is to help you all be ever vigilant in doing those things that keep your thoughts pure and always on the Savior. Though trite, the list is always the same: fast, pray, read the scriptures, keep the commandments, watch and listen to uplifting media, have family home evening, attend church and take the sacrament, and go to the temple. May it ever be so with my posterity. Lock your doors and throw away the key.
And if...per chance...you are human, you might have an inappropriate thought, then recognize it for what it is and do as the Savior did, and say, "Get thee hence, Satan," and shut that door again by immersing yourself in the scriptures, prayer or sacred music.
When I was young, I thought I had fat lips. I was embarrassed by how fat they seemed to me in comparison to other people. It was my image of myself. As I look at pictures of me as a child, I don't see it now, but back then I thought many times that I must have an African relative for me to have lips that I compared to theirs. I secretly had this unspoken thought for years, then, one day, as a young adult at college, I happened to pass a house with a young black man entering, and I thought to myself, "I wonder if I were to kiss a black man would two pair of lips that were the same size make a difference in how it felt to kiss?" An odd thought. But, that thought kept running through my mind.
Before the week was out, I was at a dance hall just yearning to dance and still was on the sidelines. I watched the girls who got asked by all guys getting to dance every dance, and I was pretty despondent. (This is what usually happened to me.) As I sat on the sidelines, a black boy came in the 'all white' establishment. He watched those girls who I knew had danced with everyone there. I watched him proceed to ask every one of them. They all turned him down. Now I was angry with those girls. I was angry that Provo residents (they probably in hind sight were not Mormon, but then, I assumed they were) were so prejudiced that they would not even so much as dance with him.
You guessed it. To me, I was his last choice, but of course I leaped at the chance to dance, and I thought to myself that I was a good example of Mormons to him because I was not prejudiced. Well, you guessed it. Since no one else would dance with him...except me, we danced the entire night and I LOVE dancing...and the pheromones of music always contribute passion in dancing. He was not a member, so I felt even more compelled to show him that in this Mormon town, we don't treat blacks like he had been treated.
Without any more details, since I had walked to the dance club, he offered to drive me home. Upon leaving, those people threw rocks at us and yelled horrible names to both of us while that man protected me. I had no clue at the time why we were being so persecuted and I wondered if this was what always happened to black people. We ran to his car and drove in silence...and when he took me home, the kissing was so passionate I cannot tell you to this day if the size of lips made a difference because that was the least thing on my mind.
Well, that was not the end of that young man in my life. But I can tell you it would have been better for me that I had not met him. After finally having the willpower to end that relationship, I wondered how it had happened that so fast after my thought, I was placed in that exact predicament.
Well today's lesson answered that question. A person read this quote by President Kimball:
"It is extremely difficult, if not impossible, for the devil to enter a door that is closed. He seems to have no keys for locked doors. But if a door is slightly ajar, he gets his toe in, and soon this is followed by his foot, then by his leg and his body and his head, and finally he is in all the way." https://www.lds.org/manual/teachings-spencer-w-kimball/chapter-10?lang=eng
After the quote, the teacher said, "Sometimes all it takes is entertaining a thought to set the door ajar."
I was a little shocked. You see, we had just gone over the Joseph Smith translation to verify that the Spirit was the one who transported Jesus during his 40 days of fasting and Satan came to him. It was also after I had heard a talk about not entertaining time to research those things that the anti-Mormons preach against us, but to spend our time entertaining study and thoughts on what we know to be true.
I guess my reason for posting this is to help you all be ever vigilant in doing those things that keep your thoughts pure and always on the Savior. Though trite, the list is always the same: fast, pray, read the scriptures, keep the commandments, watch and listen to uplifting media, have family home evening, attend church and take the sacrament, and go to the temple. May it ever be so with my posterity. Lock your doors and throw away the key.
And if...per chance...you are human, you might have an inappropriate thought, then recognize it for what it is and do as the Savior did, and say, "Get thee hence, Satan," and shut that door again by immersing yourself in the scriptures, prayer or sacred music.
Sunday, December 28, 2014
My Heroes
A talk today considered the topic of who our heroes are. I did some thinking and considered that I really didn't have a hero. By my definition, a hero is someone who has done some act of saving you from harm and someone whom you are in such awe that you more than praise them, more than emulate them; you worship them. I also think that for me to hero worship, the actual hero needs to be present. That counts out just about everyone. Christ comes as close to a hero as anyone, and if I were to be a bit more vigilant, I could consider Him my hero.
Anyway, it got me to thinking who my heroes are. I dropped the worship part of my definition. I dropped the part about being rescued. I dropped the definition of mine that meant they were present. And, I guess I started thinking about people I admired, people who had made a difference in the world, my life, or even just being exemplary in their own realm.
Outside of Deity, I thought of several people in the scriptures. I admire Mary, the mother of Jesus, whose soul did magnify the Lord. I thought of Ruth, who left all her past to cling to her new-found God, way of life, and her mother-in law. I thought of Esther, who was as righteous, intelligent, and humble as she was beautiful and risked her life to save her people. What faith!
Outside of the scriptural figures, I suppose that Abraham Lincoln is a 'hero' to me. He changed the small world by abolishing slavery, by saving the union of the United States. He never gave up. He was religious. He was self-motivated and learned beyond public education, but that which he read of his own volition. Do I want to be like him? Yes!
I thought of my childhood and how I wanted so much to be like my mother. She unfailingly prepared every meal...on time, table set perfectly (by her children no less). She was a teacher of homemaking. She taught me to sew, to cook, to clean, to do the laundry. She taught us to work. She taught me the Gospel of Jesus Christ through actual teaching, testimony opportunities taken every moment of every day, and most of all her actions. Do I want to be like her? Yes!
I actually had several heroes as a child that I did, in fact try to be like. Mrs. Ferris, my first grade teacher, who decorated my classroom with trains (even a life-sized one we could get in). She taught me to crochet and allowed me to work on it during recess rather than going outside. One day, I somehow got my underpants wet. I didn't know what to do. She washed them out and hung them on the radiator. When a boy asked who's they were, I saw her answer that she didn't know who's they were. What a wonderful hero to me! Mr. Skold, my 2nd grade teacher, Mrs. Randall, my fourth grade teacher taught me to draw. Mrs. Richardson, my 5th grade teacher let me sing alto and make up the music to a poem that my class learned to sing and perform. Mrs. Soucek, my 7th grade homeroom and social studies teacher, finagled a spot for me on the school newspaper staff when she saw that no one would elect me (the new student) to that post. Mrs. Lemler, the PE teacher, who knew I wanted to be in the dance talent show and let me dance with the girls in a jazz number that they had learned from their dance lessons and she even got me costume. I can't remember all the other teachers, my debate coach, my choir leader, the drama director, that continued communication with me long after I left high school, but I remember one of my PE teachers in high school. She had requirements for making an A in gymnastics, but she amended them for me because she said it was not safe for someone of my height to do one of them. She also took into account that I already knew how to swim, so she let me help teach that class. All of them were such good examples of a teacher. I knew I was loved. I felt like they taught me, as opposed to a class. When I was faced with a decision as to my future career, it was a 'no-brainer', you see, I made that decision long before; I made it when I sat on the front row in Mrs. Ferris's class and said to myself, "How can I remember her name forever, because I want to be just like her/"
I thought of Sister Hinkley. I saw her on a video in Time Out for Women. I heard her daughters tell stories of her. I read her quotes. She was a down to earth Godly woman, who was no respecter of persons. She treated everyone like they were her best friend. I didn't know her personally, but what I did know about her reminded me of someone I did know personally. She reminded me of KK Ellis. KK was always gracious, outgoing, and made everyone feel welcome and loved. KK was an example of always helping others and doing her best. KK always testified of Christ. Her heart was pure. Her motives were pure. One day, when we were having a presidency meeting (she was my counselor in the stake Primary) I told her how her son had said some things to hurt my son's feelings. She cried. She hugged me. She apologized for her son, then later talked to her son and reported back to me. What a sweet, Christ-like lady! Do I want to be like them? Yes!
I thought of a lady in my ward. Sister Hunt, a young mother, who has about 5 children. The last year, her daughter had won many gymnastics tournaments. Apparently she is really talented in that area, so the practice time had increased with her level of competitions. However... this year, Sister Hunt's daughter dropped out of gymnastics. Why? Because her mother prayed to know if that was best for her or if it would interfere with her ability to associate with her family members and the members of the Church. You see, the practices had made her miss several church activities and had basically put the mother in the car constantly travelling to competitions. The mother presented the problem to the girl and asked her to fast and pray about it...all the while, the mother fasted and prayed, too. The little girl received her answer when her little sister, came up to her and said, "You never have time to play with me. When can we do that again?" This same Sister Hunt had her children draw names for Christmas presents...Christmas presents that were handmade. I saw the beautiful, thoughtful, kind things the children made. Everyone was astounded at the wonderful things the children had made, but I knew better. I knew the mother had done similar things for her children. I knew that she had set the example of how to lift one another, how to buoy one another. What an exemplary woman!
I thought of every divine quality I see in my own children. Kevin, for his service to others, Cheryl, for her guiding and teaching of her children, Linda, for her nurturing, loving of her children. David, for his loving, unpretentious heart and desire to be righteous. Janet, for her teaching and loving her children. Susan, for her ability to schedule, plan, and teach the gospel in her home. My husband, for his pure heart, for his desire to do right, for his unfailing desire to continue repenting...to continue being better, to continue reading the scriptures, to continue striving to be who God wants him to be. What exemplary spirits you are. You are all my heroes.
Anyway, it got me to thinking who my heroes are. I dropped the worship part of my definition. I dropped the part about being rescued. I dropped the definition of mine that meant they were present. And, I guess I started thinking about people I admired, people who had made a difference in the world, my life, or even just being exemplary in their own realm.
Outside of Deity, I thought of several people in the scriptures. I admire Mary, the mother of Jesus, whose soul did magnify the Lord. I thought of Ruth, who left all her past to cling to her new-found God, way of life, and her mother-in law. I thought of Esther, who was as righteous, intelligent, and humble as she was beautiful and risked her life to save her people. What faith!
Outside of the scriptural figures, I suppose that Abraham Lincoln is a 'hero' to me. He changed the small world by abolishing slavery, by saving the union of the United States. He never gave up. He was religious. He was self-motivated and learned beyond public education, but that which he read of his own volition. Do I want to be like him? Yes!
I thought of my childhood and how I wanted so much to be like my mother. She unfailingly prepared every meal...on time, table set perfectly (by her children no less). She was a teacher of homemaking. She taught me to sew, to cook, to clean, to do the laundry. She taught us to work. She taught me the Gospel of Jesus Christ through actual teaching, testimony opportunities taken every moment of every day, and most of all her actions. Do I want to be like her? Yes!
I actually had several heroes as a child that I did, in fact try to be like. Mrs. Ferris, my first grade teacher, who decorated my classroom with trains (even a life-sized one we could get in). She taught me to crochet and allowed me to work on it during recess rather than going outside. One day, I somehow got my underpants wet. I didn't know what to do. She washed them out and hung them on the radiator. When a boy asked who's they were, I saw her answer that she didn't know who's they were. What a wonderful hero to me! Mr. Skold, my 2nd grade teacher, Mrs. Randall, my fourth grade teacher taught me to draw. Mrs. Richardson, my 5th grade teacher let me sing alto and make up the music to a poem that my class learned to sing and perform. Mrs. Soucek, my 7th grade homeroom and social studies teacher, finagled a spot for me on the school newspaper staff when she saw that no one would elect me (the new student) to that post. Mrs. Lemler, the PE teacher, who knew I wanted to be in the dance talent show and let me dance with the girls in a jazz number that they had learned from their dance lessons and she even got me costume. I can't remember all the other teachers, my debate coach, my choir leader, the drama director, that continued communication with me long after I left high school, but I remember one of my PE teachers in high school. She had requirements for making an A in gymnastics, but she amended them for me because she said it was not safe for someone of my height to do one of them. She also took into account that I already knew how to swim, so she let me help teach that class. All of them were such good examples of a teacher. I knew I was loved. I felt like they taught me, as opposed to a class. When I was faced with a decision as to my future career, it was a 'no-brainer', you see, I made that decision long before; I made it when I sat on the front row in Mrs. Ferris's class and said to myself, "How can I remember her name forever, because I want to be just like her/"
I thought of Sister Hinkley. I saw her on a video in Time Out for Women. I heard her daughters tell stories of her. I read her quotes. She was a down to earth Godly woman, who was no respecter of persons. She treated everyone like they were her best friend. I didn't know her personally, but what I did know about her reminded me of someone I did know personally. She reminded me of KK Ellis. KK was always gracious, outgoing, and made everyone feel welcome and loved. KK was an example of always helping others and doing her best. KK always testified of Christ. Her heart was pure. Her motives were pure. One day, when we were having a presidency meeting (she was my counselor in the stake Primary) I told her how her son had said some things to hurt my son's feelings. She cried. She hugged me. She apologized for her son, then later talked to her son and reported back to me. What a sweet, Christ-like lady! Do I want to be like them? Yes!
I thought of a lady in my ward. Sister Hunt, a young mother, who has about 5 children. The last year, her daughter had won many gymnastics tournaments. Apparently she is really talented in that area, so the practice time had increased with her level of competitions. However... this year, Sister Hunt's daughter dropped out of gymnastics. Why? Because her mother prayed to know if that was best for her or if it would interfere with her ability to associate with her family members and the members of the Church. You see, the practices had made her miss several church activities and had basically put the mother in the car constantly travelling to competitions. The mother presented the problem to the girl and asked her to fast and pray about it...all the while, the mother fasted and prayed, too. The little girl received her answer when her little sister, came up to her and said, "You never have time to play with me. When can we do that again?" This same Sister Hunt had her children draw names for Christmas presents...Christmas presents that were handmade. I saw the beautiful, thoughtful, kind things the children made. Everyone was astounded at the wonderful things the children had made, but I knew better. I knew the mother had done similar things for her children. I knew that she had set the example of how to lift one another, how to buoy one another. What an exemplary woman!
I thought of every divine quality I see in my own children. Kevin, for his service to others, Cheryl, for her guiding and teaching of her children, Linda, for her nurturing, loving of her children. David, for his loving, unpretentious heart and desire to be righteous. Janet, for her teaching and loving her children. Susan, for her ability to schedule, plan, and teach the gospel in her home. My husband, for his pure heart, for his desire to do right, for his unfailing desire to continue repenting...to continue being better, to continue reading the scriptures, to continue striving to be who God wants him to be. What exemplary spirits you are. You are all my heroes.
Saturday, October 18, 2014
Pain Defined
So the doctor's first supposition of my pain was wrong. He put me on a strict diet to lessen the pain in such a case. Fortunately, the diet also helped to alleviate the actual reason for the pain--in that the portion sizes were small.
The doctor originally thought I was having tearing of the skin on my liver. Not so...(however the tests showed that it was a matter of time before that would happen if I didn't change my diet). I kept telling Mike that I would experience immediate pain from my consumption of acidic foods. It turned out that I have some sort of lesion, cut, or ulcer in the upper, right quadrant of my stomach. That accounted for the pain being related to exact foods. That accounted for the pain when I laid down to sleep....as the contents of my stomach would flow to the level of the lesion and there would be a searing pain that even went around and up my back. That also accounted for me not feeling pain when I was in a vertical position.
Anyway, it is so hard to get any sleep due to the pain; I now see why the pain killers did not touch the pain but, in fact, exacerbated it. I have to eat very early and eat hardly anything for dinner so that the contents of my stomach will be nearly empty to allow me to lay down.
My doctor is not seeing patients now because he is changing locations, but the nurse read me the diagnosis. I am hoping the prescription Krogers keeps emailing me about is something he prescribed to heal the lesion...but, of course, the new Obama guidelines have delayed my being able to get what he prescribed and they are having to go back and forth till he prescribes what the insurance wants.
The doctor originally thought I was having tearing of the skin on my liver. Not so...(however the tests showed that it was a matter of time before that would happen if I didn't change my diet). I kept telling Mike that I would experience immediate pain from my consumption of acidic foods. It turned out that I have some sort of lesion, cut, or ulcer in the upper, right quadrant of my stomach. That accounted for the pain being related to exact foods. That accounted for the pain when I laid down to sleep....as the contents of my stomach would flow to the level of the lesion and there would be a searing pain that even went around and up my back. That also accounted for me not feeling pain when I was in a vertical position.
Anyway, it is so hard to get any sleep due to the pain; I now see why the pain killers did not touch the pain but, in fact, exacerbated it. I have to eat very early and eat hardly anything for dinner so that the contents of my stomach will be nearly empty to allow me to lay down.
My doctor is not seeing patients now because he is changing locations, but the nurse read me the diagnosis. I am hoping the prescription Krogers keeps emailing me about is something he prescribed to heal the lesion...but, of course, the new Obama guidelines have delayed my being able to get what he prescribed and they are having to go back and forth till he prescribes what the insurance wants.
Sunday, September 28, 2014
Earworms
No, I'm not talking about those nightmare-producing earwig things in Star Trek 2, I'm talking about waking up with a song playing over and over in your head.
I've had that before, like when I've been the Primary chorister and been memorizing a song that I've sung over and over. I've had the song so stuck in my head that when I've gone to sing it, I'm on the perfect pitch...and I just pretended that I did have perfect pitch when in reality it was that song playing over and over in my head.
Well, I've gone several years without that happening on a regular basis, but the last year I have woke up every morning with a different hymn playing in my head. Sometimes it is a little known hymn and I go find it in the hymnbook because I sure don't know all the words. I Googled it to see if anyone else has that phenomenon. Yes. A psychologist calls it a brain loop with several songs rotating, repeating through the brain. They call them earworms.
After reading the description, I don't think that is what I really have. I believe that somehow, someone is helping me sleep. I feel that somehow, someone is bringing me peace in the morning. They are always hymns. I don't listen to music before I sleep. I haven't even played them in years. It is something I want to continue.What tender mercies.
I've had that before, like when I've been the Primary chorister and been memorizing a song that I've sung over and over. I've had the song so stuck in my head that when I've gone to sing it, I'm on the perfect pitch...and I just pretended that I did have perfect pitch when in reality it was that song playing over and over in my head.
Well, I've gone several years without that happening on a regular basis, but the last year I have woke up every morning with a different hymn playing in my head. Sometimes it is a little known hymn and I go find it in the hymnbook because I sure don't know all the words. I Googled it to see if anyone else has that phenomenon. Yes. A psychologist calls it a brain loop with several songs rotating, repeating through the brain. They call them earworms.
After reading the description, I don't think that is what I really have. I believe that somehow, someone is helping me sleep. I feel that somehow, someone is bringing me peace in the morning. They are always hymns. I don't listen to music before I sleep. I haven't even played them in years. It is something I want to continue.What tender mercies.
Tuesday, August 5, 2014
Update
So...I'm back from dad's funeral. Although it was unexpected, I know from Mike's blessing to me that it was his time to go. Also, the night before, my mother had opened her genealogy on the computer and found 'deceased' written next to dad's name. Shocked, she refreshed it and it changed to, "living'. He passed out from a blood clot to the lungs. He was a month away from being 93 and had lived with early stages of dementia for the last few years. That, plus his hip replacement rehabilitation and the fact that he had passed out and fallen to hurt his back a week before, plus his prescribed liquid diet due to his esophagus being so narrow no food could go down it, had been physically and emotionally draining on my mother. In some sense, it was a relief to know he not suffering and in a better place. I was happy that each of my children came down to the funeral that could.
My mother wants you all to send her your memories of him. I remember his smile. I remember he loved the outdoors and the Boy Scouts of America. He was always helping someone or some troop with scouts. He loved to hear us play the piano and sing. He loved to put us on his crossed knee and swing us up and down as he sang out "Ride, ride a runkin," a Danish nursery rhyme. When we left the table we had to say, "Tak for Math" and he would respond, "Vel become di.' He loved to tell stories and would tell/read with great expression. I especially recall the Danish silverware with Hans Christian Anderson stories carved on each end. We would go around the table to tell the stories.
My dad didn't compliment or praise openly, but I remember when I was a choir director as a teenager, that he came to sing in it and made sure everyone in our family came to sing and support me. I remember coming out of an interview with the bishop as a 21-yr. old, relieved that the bishop had been inspired to NOT call me on a mission (as was his intention) and me telling my father that I would not have been a good missionary because I feared meeting people...and being shocked to hear him tell me that I would have been a great missionary because I always give more than 100% to every calling and that would overcome any fear I had. He loved music. I do not recall ever missing a family home evening; they were held like clockwork, even before the manuals were published. I do not recall missing family scripture reading. Every morning, we were up and reading. Every Sunday, we told what we learned about in church and read the scriptures. I do not remember ever missing Family prayer. It was every morning and every night. My dad obeyed the commandments. We actually took piano lessons and were instructed in music conducting as a result of his direct obedience to a church bulletin asking parents to instruct their children in both of those skills. He loved the scriptures and could recite them and quote a reference at the drop of a word. He would tell us his testimony and the miracles in his life as he followed the Holy Ghost.
He loved to learn. When he retired, he would study up on his 'hobbies' so that he became experts in gardening, baking bread, food storage, genealogy, as well as everything scouting. He would go to the library and county extension meetings to learn more and often end up instructing those who came because he knew things the instructor didn't.
He always had to be busy. I know in the latter years you always saw him sitting and snoozing, but when I knew him, he didn't know how to relax; he always had to be doing. He was a District President, a stake president's counselor, a bishop, a branch president twice, and had numerous scouting callings among some of them. He was a leader. He always went home teaching with my brothers. He gave us priesthood blessings. Although he wasn't perfect; (his temper) the things he did that were right overcame the things that were wrong.
Since the funeral, these are things I've pondered:
1. I don't communicate with my family enough. The only things that really matter are our relationships...with God/Christ/HG, our spouse/children/parents/siblings, and others. No matter how righteous we are, if we don't have a celestial relationship with someone, we won't want to be with them eternally.
2. What have we done with what we were given?
the gospel --Did we share it? Did we live what we profess?,
our talents--Did we magnify them? Did we use them to serve other people and glorify God?,
our weaknesses--What did we do to overcome our carnal nature or 'thorns in the flesh'? Have we repented?
3. Why do we hang on to things of no value?
New Topic:
One of the things I absolutely love about our new home are the windows--the light that they let in. In our master bathroom there is a huge window. I love it. I am never worried that someone will see me bathe or shower because they would have to be in our fenced side yard to see anything, plus the window is translucent, textured glass to block a clear image. Nevertheless, color and shapes are clear enough.
Well, yesterday, I was showering late, got out of the shower, and looked in the mirror to reflect a blue pole with a white swab on the end, cleaning around and across the window. Yikes! I grabbed a towel and lit out of the bathroom as fast as I could. Who would be cleaning my bathroom window? Was it a 'Peeping Tom'? As I rapidly clothed, I heard each window of my house being cleaned. Who was cleaning the outside of my windows? Was there even a service to do so? Would Mike pay someone to clean our windows without telling me? I don't think so.
I peeked out the front door and saw a pest control van. I wrote the name down in case they were not a valid company. Later, I went outside and discovered an itemized bill on our door handle for their work.Yep. You guessed it. Quarterly, without fore-notice, they clean all the windows, around all the openings of our home, and in the pre-created openings of the home. (part of the subdivision requirements???) Guess I'll be watching the calendar a bit more...or taking better note of the time of day.
My mother wants you all to send her your memories of him. I remember his smile. I remember he loved the outdoors and the Boy Scouts of America. He was always helping someone or some troop with scouts. He loved to hear us play the piano and sing. He loved to put us on his crossed knee and swing us up and down as he sang out "Ride, ride a runkin," a Danish nursery rhyme. When we left the table we had to say, "Tak for Math" and he would respond, "Vel become di.' He loved to tell stories and would tell/read with great expression. I especially recall the Danish silverware with Hans Christian Anderson stories carved on each end. We would go around the table to tell the stories.
My dad didn't compliment or praise openly, but I remember when I was a choir director as a teenager, that he came to sing in it and made sure everyone in our family came to sing and support me. I remember coming out of an interview with the bishop as a 21-yr. old, relieved that the bishop had been inspired to NOT call me on a mission (as was his intention) and me telling my father that I would not have been a good missionary because I feared meeting people...and being shocked to hear him tell me that I would have been a great missionary because I always give more than 100% to every calling and that would overcome any fear I had. He loved music. I do not recall ever missing a family home evening; they were held like clockwork, even before the manuals were published. I do not recall missing family scripture reading. Every morning, we were up and reading. Every Sunday, we told what we learned about in church and read the scriptures. I do not remember ever missing Family prayer. It was every morning and every night. My dad obeyed the commandments. We actually took piano lessons and were instructed in music conducting as a result of his direct obedience to a church bulletin asking parents to instruct their children in both of those skills. He loved the scriptures and could recite them and quote a reference at the drop of a word. He would tell us his testimony and the miracles in his life as he followed the Holy Ghost.
He loved to learn. When he retired, he would study up on his 'hobbies' so that he became experts in gardening, baking bread, food storage, genealogy, as well as everything scouting. He would go to the library and county extension meetings to learn more and often end up instructing those who came because he knew things the instructor didn't.
He always had to be busy. I know in the latter years you always saw him sitting and snoozing, but when I knew him, he didn't know how to relax; he always had to be doing. He was a District President, a stake president's counselor, a bishop, a branch president twice, and had numerous scouting callings among some of them. He was a leader. He always went home teaching with my brothers. He gave us priesthood blessings. Although he wasn't perfect; (his temper) the things he did that were right overcame the things that were wrong.
Since the funeral, these are things I've pondered:
1. I don't communicate with my family enough. The only things that really matter are our relationships...with God/Christ/HG, our spouse/children/parents/siblings, and others. No matter how righteous we are, if we don't have a celestial relationship with someone, we won't want to be with them eternally.
2. What have we done with what we were given?
the gospel --Did we share it? Did we live what we profess?,
our talents--Did we magnify them? Did we use them to serve other people and glorify God?,
our weaknesses--What did we do to overcome our carnal nature or 'thorns in the flesh'? Have we repented?
3. Why do we hang on to things of no value?
New Topic:
One of the things I absolutely love about our new home are the windows--the light that they let in. In our master bathroom there is a huge window. I love it. I am never worried that someone will see me bathe or shower because they would have to be in our fenced side yard to see anything, plus the window is translucent, textured glass to block a clear image. Nevertheless, color and shapes are clear enough.
Well, yesterday, I was showering late, got out of the shower, and looked in the mirror to reflect a blue pole with a white swab on the end, cleaning around and across the window. Yikes! I grabbed a towel and lit out of the bathroom as fast as I could. Who would be cleaning my bathroom window? Was it a 'Peeping Tom'? As I rapidly clothed, I heard each window of my house being cleaned. Who was cleaning the outside of my windows? Was there even a service to do so? Would Mike pay someone to clean our windows without telling me? I don't think so.
I peeked out the front door and saw a pest control van. I wrote the name down in case they were not a valid company. Later, I went outside and discovered an itemized bill on our door handle for their work.Yep. You guessed it. Quarterly, without fore-notice, they clean all the windows, around all the openings of our home, and in the pre-created openings of the home. (part of the subdivision requirements???) Guess I'll be watching the calendar a bit more...or taking better note of the time of day.
Sunday, June 1, 2014
From my Sunday notes...
Dallin Oaks, We have faith in the future, and we are preparing for that future. To borrow a metaphor from the familiar world of athletic competitions, we do not know when this game will end, and we do not know the final score, but we do know that when the game finally ends, our team wins.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"Sacrifice means giving up something we love for the God that we love more."
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Blessing jar--filled with answers to prayers or special tender mercies...read them at the end of the year.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
"And Thus we See" in the Book of Mormon (in other words: "and now, here is the lesson that is important for you to learn.)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"Sacrifice means giving up something we love for the God that we love more."
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Blessing jar--filled with answers to prayers or special tender mercies...read them at the end of the year.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
"And Thus we See" in the Book of Mormon (in other words: "and now, here is the lesson that is important for you to learn.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)