How carefully we prepare for the arrival of a newborn into our homes and arms. Our love for these little spirits knows no bounds even when we discover that being a parent is a 24 hour 7 days a week proposition and it soon dawns on us, if we hadn’t realized it already that we have just made a commitment that will last for the next eighteen years. If your children are still young and you long for the time when you won’t need to worry about them any more let me tell you a little secret—it isn’t going to happen. Even when they leave our homes we still keep them in our thoughts and prayers and stand ready to offer assistance if they should need it. We had a good friend in Wisconsin whose daughter was just beginning to become active socially after a devastating divorce. She had gone to a stake single adult activity that required a drive of several hours to get there and by the time the program and dance were over the hour was quite late. This caused her dad to become so worried that he phoned the police to report her ‘missing’. The police officer, after listening patiently asked this good brother how old his daughter was. “Thirty four he replied at which point the officer advised him to wait a little while longer before getting the police involved. My point is that we never stop caring about our children no matter how old they are.

Our Heavenly Father never stops caring about us either no matter how poor our choices or how much we ignore him. He is always there waiting for us to reach out to him.

We do our best to teach our children “all the things that are right” and in the process learn a little bit of what it must be like for our Heavenly Parents to send us away from their care and protection. What faith they had in us to be able to send us here on earth where we would gain a physical body like theirs. While a physical body was to be an important part of this experience it wasn’t the only reason we left their home. We were also to be given our Agency or right to choose. Moses 3:17 tells us that in the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve were specifically told by our Heavenly Father that the Garden was theirs to enjoy but there were two trees that were look at only’.

“But of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it, nevertheless, thou mayest choose for thyself, for it is given unto thee; but remember that I forbid it, for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die.”

I don’t think Heavenly Father was surprised at the choice they made but the consequence for them, and us, meant that we would lose the ability to talk face to face with Him as well as the memory of having once had that association.

Alma 12:31 tells us that having been disobedient and broken the commandment given them by God by partaking of the tree of knowledge of good and evil they placed “themselves in a state to act, or being placed in a state to act according to their wills and pleasures, whether to do evil or to do good. . .”

There you have it, we were to be allowed to come experience what it was like to have a physical body and I must add here that we had no guarantee as to how long we would stay on earth which is for some, the briefest of times while others would live to be very old with every possible variation of the length of stay and conditions in between. The other thing that we were meant to do was to have the chance to find out what it was like to “do according to our will and pleasure” and furthermore to do it where anything was possible. Like a child given free run in a candy store we were warned about the terrible stomach ache we would get if we at too much but allowed to decide for ourselves how much we would consume.

2nd Nephi 2:25 tells us, “Adam fell that men might be; and men are that they might have joy”. Of course the joy part comes when we keep our Heavenly Father’s commandments which shouldn’t be that hard to do, except, it is simply because we are so easily distracted by all the possibilities for pleasure and doing what we want that we often lose sight of what is really important.

So, here we are, in the year of our Lord, 2012 A.D., having this mortal experience with a veil of forgetfulness placed over our minds so that we truly can, as our youngest, when she was about two and a half years old used to say while stomping her foot for emphasis as we tried to help her put on some article of clothing, “Do it self”. We are doing it ourselves . So far, so good—Right? Umm, yes, except for one little detail, we could no longer return home by retracing our footsteps. When we lived in Iowa many years ago we used to visit family in Utah at least every other year. While there we would attend the temple in Salt Lake City as the closest temple to us at that time was located in Washington DC which was 18 hours away from our home. We often parked at a lot that had an interesting arrangement for entering. It had one of those thingy’s where you drove over curved metal pieces that retracted into a groove arrangement in the ground when your car went over it and then immediately sprang up once the car’s weight was off making it impossible to leave to leave by the way one had come in as the points on the curved metal pieces would shred the tires. The only way to leave was by paying the toll required at the exit. So it is with us now. We have arrived, will live, love, learn and then die but because we are imperfect we can’t leave this earthly life to return home without someone paying the price at the exit.

While God loves us and sent us here to learn what it means to become like him He is bound by law. In this case the law of justice is in operation which we are told is that every sin must be accounted and paid for. I enjoy crocheting and have spent many a contented hour in this pursuit. Once a pattern is learned there is plenty of time to think thoughts, deep or otherwise, while the stitches are made one after another. Crochet stitches are based on the chain stitch which is quite easily undone by simply pulling on the working end of the thread. A thoughtless moment of inattention can result in hours of work swiftly coming undone. But enough of that. The thing I realized on that long ago day was this.

“Like the Gods we also travel, one Eternal round, by laws bound, lest all unravel.”

We are in a catch 22 situation aren’t we. Having fallen from Heaven in order to learn how to use our agency we are forbidden to return until we have learned how to repent which is made necessary by the aforementioned agency. Yes, we are going to goof up, that is simply a given and if a Savior, who could/would do for us what we couldn’t do for ourselves hadn’t been found we would be up the proverbial creek without a paddle. Or as Alma 34:9 points out, without mincing any words, I might add, “For it is expedient that an atonement should be made; for according to the great plan of the Eternal God there must be an atonement made, or else all mankind must unavoidably perish; yea, all are hardened yea, all are fallen and are lost, and must perish except it be through the atonement which is expedient should be made”.

If we are willing to learn from our mistakes, which is what repentance is and get back on the ‘Way’ that returns us home Alma 34:16 tells us, “If we. . . repent, the Savior pays the penalty through the Atonement, by invoking mercy”.

It quickly becomes obvious that not just any of our Father in Heaven’s children would be able to accomplish this this task. Moses 4:1-2 teaches that two came forward with a plan. One said, “Behold, here am I, send me, I will by thy son, and I will redeem all mankind, that one soul shall not be lost, and surely I will do it; wherefore give me thine honor”.

“But, behold, my Beloved Son, which was my Beloved and Chosen from the beginning, said unto me—Father, thy will be done, and the glory be thine forever”.

The rest as they say, ‘is history’.

Christ came to this earth born of Mary, a mortal being like all of us, which would allow him to die. He was the literal son of God thus giving him the ability to break the bands of death and open the door to eternity. His humble purity of spirit and body made it possible for him to become the mediator between our Father in Heaven, whose laws we had broken, and we His spirit children who wanted to return home to be with him once more. Thence came the Atonement where Christ, the only one who could do so, assumed all the sins and sorrows of everyone who had or ever would live in mortality.

Another way to think of Atonement is “At-one-with”. Christ was the mediator who balanced the books so that if we repented our sins we could meet God the Father’s requirement that only those without sin could return to Him which would allow us to continue our Eternal Progression. We would be one with God once more.

I don’t begin to understand the How of Christ’s atoning sacrifice. A process we are told was so agonizingly painful it caused the Savior to sweat blood from every pore. I do, however, know the Why. John 3:16 tells us, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved”.

We often sing the following words, penned by Edwrd P Kimball, as a Sacrament song:

God loved us, so he sent his Son,
Christ Jesus, the atoning One,
To show us by the path he trod
The one and only way to God.

He came as man, though Son of God,
And bowed himself beneath the rod.
He died in holy innocence,
A broken law to recompense.

Oh, love effulgent, love divine!
What debt of gratitude is mine,
That in his off’ring I have part
And hold a place within his heart.

The window over my kitchen sink looks out across the Cedar Valley where a constant panorama awaits my sight as the seasons pass in review. Right now I am enjoying Spring as she shyly works her way into my view with hesitant burst of tiny leaves appearing on bush and tree with here and there a willow already exploding into vibrant green.

As always, at this time of year my thoughts are drawn to the message this new life brings, a silent reminder, lest I forget, that Christ rose from the cold, Winter of the grave to live once more in full Heavenly glory with body and soul reunited never to be separated again.

Martin Luther expressed it this way: “Our Lord has written the promise of the resurrection, not it books alone, but in every leaf in springtime”.

May the joyous message of his atoning sacrifice and resurrection lift up our hearts.

He lives and so shall we.

December, 2011

My Mother was a master gatherer, whether it was morel mushrooms that only she knew where to find, or the tender asparagus sprouts that would shoot up in Spring along the fence following the side of Iowa Highway 2 which bordered our farm, or the hazelnuts that grew wild just waiting to be spotted by someone with a discerning eye and no fear of crawling through a neighbor’s barbed wire fence to reach them. Indeed, one could say that nothing missed her keen eye. She found all these delicacies because that was part of her heritage as a child growing up on a farm in Nebraska where ‘hard scrabble’ was the way of life and those who lived there learned, of necessity, to see and use all around them in order to survive.

Then, of course, there was the corn my sisters and I helped her glean after school in the cold of a November day which I remember as a time of frost-bitten fingers and toes as we complained bitterly while walking the rows kicking the downed stocks looking for the bright yellow ears of corn that were hiding in their brown husks having been missed earlier by dad with his mechanical corn picker. She used this corn to feed her chickens who in return provided us with eggs and fried chicken.

Mother was able to create beauty with what she had at hand. At least it seemed so to my mind as I watched her work her magic time after time in our home. This was a gift that served her family well as she and dad struggled to stay afloat financially on a small family farm in the 1950′s. But no matter how grim our finances were she always managed to provide Christmas for the family. I particularly remember one year when there wasn’t enough money to buy a tree (that isn’t surprising considering that both my sister and I were attending BYU) so she had dad go out to the back pasture and cut down one of the small cedar trees which, when strung with lights and ornaments did just fine as a substitute for the traditional pine tree. I remember her apologizing for it but to me it was beautiful—it was home. I like the thought expressed by Bob Hope: “When we recall Christmas past, we usually find that the simplest things-not the great occasions-give off the greatest glow of happiness.”

Gathering is what Christmas is about isn’t it.  Our deepest feelings are inextricably tied to family and the connections we have with one another.  I cherish the memories of my childhood home.  They are sweet to me.  Just as sweet are the memories of the family your dad and I were privileged to raise.  I treasure those memories.  I have lived long enough now to realize that the only ‘things’ of real worth in life are the relationships we build with each other.  How delightful it is to watch as each of you has gone on to create your own families which in turn gives us our precious grandchildren and now, for many, our great-grandchildren.

May this be a blessed Christmas for you all as you gather your families around you.

love, Mom

November 23, 2008

This last election has been an interesting one from many aspects. While I am a registered Republican I try to vote for the person I feel is best qualified to hold the office they are running for regardless of party affiliation. The choice for POTUS this time was horrible in both parties. An old war hero warrior on the one side who more accurately could be described as a Truman Democrat with an annoying habit of inserting ‘my friend’ into every thing he had to say, which wasn’t much, and a still wet behind the ears with a smooth way of speaking, at least when he had a teleprompter in front of him, supported by the media who were determined to see a man with a black skin elected. The insertion of Sarah Palin as the running mate alongside John McCain energized many of us who were in despair over the choice being offered. I found it rather amusing that while she was attacked for her lack of experience in governance should McCain die in office the same standards used to crucify Governor Palin didn’t seem to have any relevance when applied to the man running for the presidency of the country. Go figure.

At any rate, this mother of five with her no nonsense approach to getting things done has managed to turn the state of Alaska on its ear to the benefit and delight of its citizens. While extremely popular in Alaska the elitists, in the lower 48 states who very much do not want to see someone with common sense and no promises to keep to any except those who like this approach to government were terrified of her and the potential she has to upset the political applecart of many an entrenched politician of both parties. I have never seen anyone as viciously attacked by the mainstream media as she and her family have been in order to discredit her. Be that as it may, it is not what I set out to say, although it does involve Gov. Palin who is once again being excoriated, this time for standing in front of a man who was killing turkeys and letting them bleed out while she was granting amnesty to one lucky gobbler allowed while the rest of his band of brothers would go on to meet their fate.

How could her staff allow her to stand in front of such a scene was the question being asked be many in the lower 48 who were appalled that they were unwitting witnesses to turkeys being bled out. “Oh ick, oh yuk” went comment after comment. “I didn’t realize what was required”, said one, “I might have to rethink what I serve this Thanksgiving”. I suspect that the reason no one on Gov. Palin’s staff gave where she was standing a second thought was that in Alaska they still know what it takes to put food on the table. Just shows how far removed and sissified we have become as most of us are clueless as to what it takes to put it there.

Personally, I find it downright scary to think how few people are actually left on farms in this country. Dad was pushing it to try and enter farming when he did in 1953 especially as under financed as he was. Today the capitalization required makes it almost impossible for all but a very few to work the land. All he really had was a dream and the desire to put in the hard work and long hours required to succeed and a wife who was willing to work with him. Growing up as a teenager on the farm I didn’t realize just how hard pressed financially my parents were as we always had plenty of good food to eat—much of it raised by them. Granted, we didn’t have as many ‘things’ as we might have wished for but we always had sufficient for our needs. Mother was extremely thrifty and not afraid to outfit her girls in home made outfits which to give her credit were always well made and attractive. I remember being really startled to hear her say once that they really struggled to stay in the farming business. Every Spring required a trip to the bank to see if they could get a loan to allow them to farm for another year as there was always money need for the purchase of seed, fertilizer, fuel, equipment and on and on with no assurance that any of this could be paid for if there was a crop failure due to weather not to mention the possibility of injury or illness to man or beast. They protected us from this knowledge as we were growing up wishing to allow us time to enjoy the pursuits of childhood knowing all too well that our own time would come all too quickly when we would have our own burdens to bear in this regard.

Mother always had a flock of chickens which provided eggs as well as delicious fried chicken. But that good meal we enjoyed didn’t just happen—there were a lot of steps involved in between—none of which mother was afraid to tackle. This whole process began with catching a chicken, which was not as easy as you might think, I mean aren’t people a lot bigger than a bird? Well, of course they are, but just because a chicken has a brain about the size of of a pea doesn’t mean that they can’t figure out that when someone is trying to catch them something bad is about to happen which means that once alarmed the whole flock starts flapping around the hen house quickly stirring up a noxious dust composed in large part of chicken and mouse droppings. To avoid this one uses what is known in the trade as a ‘chicken catcher’ which is a sturdy piece of metal wire bent at the end into a U shape just the right size which allows one to sneak up and snag the bird by its let without alarming it. The captured bird is then held upside down by it’s legs where it wiggles and flops around trying to escape and woe betide the helper who lets go when a well aimed peck lands on a tender spot. . . .

Then off to the chopping block which for us was a flat surfaced stump behind the garage where the chicken had it’s head removed with an ax which mother knew how to use and would when dad was not there to help her. This was a fascinating process to watch as the uncooperative chicken had to be kept on the block with one hand while the other brought the ax down quickly, cleanly and accurately with enough force to do the job. Definitely not a task for sissies. After losing its head the chicken didn’t always know it was dead and would run aimlessly around until loss of blood took its toll. How gross you say? (I will spare you the details of what came next for I know that some like my sister Barbara are weak of stomach) And yes, yes it was, but that is what had to be done if we were to have fried chicken. We knew then the price that had to be paid for our meal and weren’t afraid to pay it.

December, 2011

My Mother was a master gatherer, whether it was Morell mushrooms, or the tender asparagus sprouts that would shoot up in Spring along the fence following the side of Iowa Highway 2 which bordered our farm, or the hazelnuts that grew wild just waiting to be spotted by someone with a discerning eye and no fear of crawling through a neighbor’s barbed wire fence to reach them. Indeed, one could say that nothing missed her keen eye. She found all these delicacies because that was part of her heritage as a child growing up on a farm in Nebraska where ‘hard scrabble’ was the way of life and those who lived there learned, of necessity, to see and use all around them in order to survive.

Then, of course, there was the corn my sisters and I helped her glean after school in the cold of a November day which I remember as a time of frost-bitten fingers and toes as we complained bitterly while walking the rows kicking the downed stocks looking for the bright yellow ears of corn that were hiding in their brown husks having been missed earlier by dad with his mechanical corn picker. She used this corn to feed her chickens who in return provided us with eggs and fried chicken.

Mother had the ability to create beauty with what she had at hand. At least it seemed so to my mind as I watched her work her magic time after time in our home. This was a gift that served her family well as she and dad struggled to stay afloat financially on a small family farm in the 1950′s. But no matter how grim our finances were she always managed to provide Christmas for the family. I particularly remember one year when there wasn’t enough money to buy a tree (that isn’t surprising considering my sister and I were both attending BYU) so she had dad go out to the back pasture and cut down one of the small cedar trees which, when strung with lights and ornaments did just fine as a substitute for the traditional pine tree. I remember her apologizing for it but to me it was beautiful—it was home. I like the thought expressed by Bob Hope: “When we recall Christmas past, we usually find that the simplest things-not the great occasions-give off the greatest glow of happiness.”

Gathering is what Christmas is about isn’t it.  Our deepest feelings are inextricably tied to family and the connections we have with one another.  I cherish the memories of my childhood home.  They are sweet to me.  Just as sweet are the memories of the family your dad and I were privileged to raise.  I treasure those memories.  I have lived long enough now to realize that the only ‘things’ of real worth in life are the relationships we build with each other.  How delightful it is to watch as each of you has gone on to create your own families which in turn gives us our precious grandchildren and now, our great-grandchildren as well.

Your father and I know that our time here on earth is growing shorter with each passing year. The thought of leaving those we love behind would be hard to bear without the knowledge that we will be reunited on the other side. This knowledge gives me comfort and great joy. I know God lives. I know Jesus is our Savior. I know that the real gift of Christmas, eternal life through Christ’s atoning sacrifice, began with His birth over 2000 years ago which to me, is why, at Christmas, the heart goes home and I am reminded again of what it will mean for us all as we are gathered together once more.
  
May this be a blessed Christmas for you all.

love, Mom

September 9, 2011

It’s official! Fall is in the air. This announcement used to be the purvey of MGH back in the day when he was up and about at an earlier hour than his current health allows. Now, though, we have to rely on our garage door for this information and as of two days ago, it has spoken.

At this point, I must explain that for the last several years said door will, thankfully, open when commanded by it’s master ‘the remote’. It will, however, not close no matter how often the signal is sent if it is the least bit chilled. I probably shouldn’t be writing this for fear that the fates will get wind of it and cause even more mischief but as of this moment it is possible to get the garage door to lower by first raising the door, backing the car out of the garage and then exiting and returning to the master switch positioned by the entrance to the kitchen and holding the control down until the door has lowered completely and I do mean completely as failure to do so results in the door answering it’s hidden muse to rise once more even if it is only inches away from complete closure. Please do not ask me how I know this, sigh. Having achieved closure one can then exit by the front door, keys to hand (required to lock the front door) and proceed to the car which has been patiently waiting for further instructions and proceed on ones merry way.

Lao-tzu, a Chinese philosopher (604 BC – 531 BC) is credited with “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step”. While I understand that there are deep philosophical connotations in this simple statement I feel I must amend it just a ‘titch to accommodate our present condition, “A journey of a thousand miles begins once the garage door is down”.

So, why then do I say that Fall is in the air? Simple. For the past two mornings I have had places to be that required me to leave the house by 8:30 and the garage door wouldn’t close because it was too cold. Summer is, indeed, over.