It Matters What Grandkids Think!

The great summer treat discovery: making our own "slurpees!" I saw it on Studio 5, and the kids were all for trying it. Any soda pop goes into the Cuisenart ice-cream maker, and in a few minutes you have your very own wonderful icee or slurpee or slushie. It is my grandkids' favorite summer find. Their favorite is red cream soda. Ahhhh! So little to make them so happy! I myself have not tried the spectacular homemade treat because diet soda does NOT work! Jim and I have each lost over 40 pounds this summer on Simple2Lose (or Medifast or Take Shape for Life), so our treats consist of Diet Cherry Dr. Pepper or diet Jello! The only bad part is that I have been SO perfect on the diet (and started a month sooner), and Jim is catching up with me. Why do men lose faster than we women? I know it is definitely NOT because of their outstanding willpower...

Matters of a Pioneering Heart

Our choir sang "A Pioneering Heart" by Janice Kapp Perry today. It was especially fitting following the week that our ward's youth had spent on Trek. All of today's meetings were emotional as speakers and teachers recalled the sacrifices of the Pioneers of the Martin-Willey Handcart Company. Jim and I had spent a day this summer at Martin's Cove and listened to a book about the women of the company, Sandra Dallas' TRUE SISTERS. It reminds me of the Primary song that says, "You don't have to push a handcart, leave your family dear, or walk a thousand miles or more to be a pioneer!" We all have to do hard things. A man in our Sunday-School class (as we studied Alma 38) suggested that "troubles" we bring on ourselves, while trials are "divine tutorials." The brother is new to our ward, newly married, and has a brain injury that causes speech and physical problems. I am not sure I would have made a very faithful pioneer of the 1800s, but I pray that I may face my own troubles and trials with their same kind of faith, commitment, and perseverance. I am thankful for the pioneeers of the past and the present who inspire me.

Time Always Matters

Another year has flown by, and time passes more quickly than ever for me. I never complain about time’s dragging on any more because it seems to disappear more and more swiftly, no matter what I am doing. Yesterday I had several grandkids at the house and we were doing some research on Azerbaijan on the computer for Danielle’s homework. Suddenly Haylee said, “Grandma, you look so young!” I immediately surmised that she did not mean at that minute, sitting at the computer. I looked up to the shelf of pictures above me and smiled. “I was young in that picture—it was 40 years ago. Gee, Haylee, I thought I looked the same!” My teasing was lost on her. She stared at the picture, at me, at the picture. “Well…you do have a double chin now…” I guess that answer was rather kind compared to the things she could have said! Time may not have been kind to my face, brain, or body, but it has been kind to my heart. I know because her comments did not hurt my feelings in the least. I was just glad that she recognized that those people in the picture were Jim and me! I am so thankful for the kindness the years have given me, including a gray-haired husband, gray-haired children(!), and twenty brilliant grandchildren (two of whom have red hair—for now—notice Haylee and Emma).

I Can Do Hard Things

I watched a BYU Devotional this morning by Dallan Moody. He talked about responding to trials in our lives by telling the story of one of his sons who came into this world with many challenges. Doctors told them to take their little son home and not to bring him back to the hospital because the doctors had done everything they could for him. He might live a few weeks, a few months, or with an outside miracle, up to two years. Brother Moody told of the many days and nights of service that their family and friends gave to that little boy before he returned home to Heavenly Father last month at the age of seven. Brother Moody thought it was a miracle that this beloved child lived for seven years, but a visiting General Authority told him, "You are being exhalted." Then he realized the real miracle was in what happened to himself, his wife, and his family because they had the opportunity of serving a special-needs child for those years.

As the mother of Cameron I agree. These special children are sent to us to exalt and teach us. I look at my children and husband and know that we are all better people because we have Cameron in our lives. Those of us who have grandchildren with special needs realize that they refine us, and their parents, our children, become better people because of the trials. I can do hard things. A Christian friend of mine who has great faith and insight once corrected my motto to say, "I can do hard things through Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior, who lifts me up." And I can--because He is there.

Who Raised an Eagle?

From Cameron's Ealge Court of Honor, Jan. 29, 2012

Yesterday I was making bread. I ground the wheat, added the ingredients, let it rise, baked it and ate it. My granddaughter Haylee was with me. She said in amazement, “You can MAKE bread??!!” I explained that, indeed, we can make bread, Little Red Hen. Well, in the case of making an eagle scout, all along the process it would have ended if I, the little red hen, had to plant, harvest, thrash, grind, mix, rise, shape, and bake the scout all by myself! So many people helped along the way! Walt was principal at Orchard when Cameron was about to start school. I went to him and asked if he thought maybe inclusion was right for Cam. With tears in his eyes, Walt said, “This school needs the experience of mainstreaming Cameron.” And we did. And Cameron grew and learned, a little differently than everyone else, and a little more slowly, but he began to set goals.
When he was a beginning cub scout, I had no idea that one day he would be getting his Eagle. One busy day he walked around the corner to the Stocks' for his den meeting. I thought I could quickly run to the mall while he was gone. The traffic was slow, and I was starting to panic when I finally got home. Cam was in the front yard. Something was inside his shirt. What is inside your shirt? “It’s the cops.” The phone rang from inside his shirt, and Cameron took it out and handed it to me. It was the 911 operator saying that someone was calling from our number. I assured her that all was well. Cameron learned how to get help at an early age, but I was not going to let anyone know that I had left my 8-yr-old, special-needs son alone!
Cameron has had wonderful experiences as you have included him in scouting. I think he would say the best thing about scouts is the BIG pizza at Bear Lake—and other stories of good food, falling out of a boat with Brother Crabtree, and all the adventures that made him into a true scout. Now the rest of you might remember trying to wake Cam up in the mornings, dragging him up and down mountains, trying to get him to “go” without benefit of a toilet, or calming his homesickness when he had been gone from home for a few hours.
For five years Cameron served in this ward as an assistant scout master. Thank you, Bishop Carlson and Bishop Elmer, Jason Beck, Von Proctor, Brad Burton, Gary Wadsworth, and so many others who never gave up in serving Cameron and helping him achieve his goal to be an Eagle Scout. Your patience and love and service has taught Cameron that he can do hard things. You have taught him to persevere. You have reached out and helped him when you did not need to because it was no longer your calling or stewardship. That is pure charity—to love as Christ loves. You have generously given gifts of love. Your sharing of spiritual gifts have lifted us all.
Those who have helped Cameron achieve are too numerous to mention, but all his friends, neighbors, family members, my friends, teachers, scout leaders, bishops, mission leaders, seminary and institute teachers, the Stock family, those who serve at the temple, members of this ward and his YSA ward—thank you all for your love and service. This morning a young man reported his mission in our ward. He said that standing in holy places makes all the difference. You have done that. You have helped Cameron stand where he is tonight.
When he was little, Cameron saw the Christus in Nauvoo and ran to it with open arms. “Jesus wants to hold me!” A couple of months ago Cameron woke up happy—yes, that is unusual. He said he had a really GOOD dream. In the dream Cam was walking down the street and he saw Jesus walking toward him. Cameron ran to Him and said,, “I know you!” And he does. Thank you all for loving, mentoring, and generously and patiently guiding Cameron.

Matters of Life and Death

I attended a funeral today for a friend who had a lifetime of impact on everyone he met--and in my view-- particularly to my children and the boys of our ward while they were growing up. Bill was only 51, and his death was unexpected. Like my young mother years ago, he suffered a massive heart attack and slipped away as his wife and paramedics helplessly tried to save him. Today we all joined to laugh and cry and bid Bill good-bye for now. His sister-in-law spoke of Bill as a "rescuer" and told the legendary story of Bill and the "bear can." We laughed as we recognized the Bill we knew in the words that honored him. One morning a few years ago, my friend April and I were on our morning walk. It was very early. The only living that were awake seemed to be us, some birds and insects, and some barking dogs. We walked down the street in front of the Abbotts'. Across the road from them lived a couple of women (that's another story) who had show dogs, and that morning, as we walked by, their German shepherd came over the fence, right at us--growling and barking. I was petrified and prepared to die. April was braver, but there may have been a slight amount of screaming. As we stood, frozen to the ground with fear, Bill came flying from his house like Superman on a mission. He grabbed the dog and pulled him to the ground, speaking firmly and returning the unfriendly canine to his own backyard. Bill rescued us another time when we had frozen faucets in our new house. There he was and refusing to take money. It is always a time to consider the fragile nature of life. You never know if you will live to be ninety like my friend Donna or be called home in what seems like an young and untimely death. Bill affected many lives, including mine. He was a force for life and laughter and service and family and scouting and love for others. Good-bye for now, Bill.

Matters of Age and Wisdom

I have a delightful 90-year-old friend named Donna. She is spunky and inspirational and indominable. Last month she collapsed while working out at the Fitness Center and was rushed to the hospital where doctors inserted a pacemaker and sent her home to continue to make the world a better place. When I visited her, she said, "I don't know why the Lord doesn't just take me home. I guess I still have lessons to learn." I hardly think so, Donna! Besides her mission as a young woman, she served three additional missions with her sweetheart Arvil, and together they raised seven children. She has many grandchildren, great-grandchildren, nieces and nephews with their children, and neighbors and friends around the world. When I met Donna seven years ago she was still working as a kindergarten aide at an inner-city school and manning the counter at Burger King in the evenings! When Arvil died a few years ago, Donna took disabled veterans into her home to care for them! Ron died, and veteran Bill took his place in Donna's care last year. Donna's nephew was in need and homeless, so he is living there now, too. Donna drives them to appointments and feeds them three times a day. She is a visiting teacher, an inspiration in every Sunday class, and a guiding force at book club. So I say, "Donna, you are still here not because you have lessons yet to learn but because so many of us still have lessons to learn from you!"