Missionary Matters

June 18, 2018
Dear Friends and Family,
We had a wonderful and interesting week here in southern Texas! Our calling here, of course, is to teach, and teach we did! We also connected on Hangout for the first time for a CES inservice on Wednesday night after a very interesting trip with sister missionaries to Hebbronville. Sisters Zidek and Libberton asked us to take them out to this typical little town about an hour away to give out some free Bibles that were requested on Mormon.org and contact some members who had not had any contact with the Church. There was only a burned out house at one of the addresses. At another, the man did not remember ever being baptized--but in his state, maybe he wouldn't have remembered his own name. We met one very sweet senior couple who just could not travel the distance to attend church, so now attend with the Methodists. It is very sad that people get kind of "lost" in the middle of nowhere and don't have a chance to grow in the gospel. We were very impressed with the Sisters who prayed and then marched like shepherds, trying to gather the sheep. They had a little FaceTime meeting with Cameron and prayed for his friend.

The little trip to Hebbronville was our second encounter of the week with the border patrol. We had to pass through a checkpoint. I really had no idea until then what the "checkpoints" were that were keeping some of our people from the temple. On Monday we went to a missionary apartment down by "the river," and decided to take a little drive to see the Rio. As we turned into the neighborhood and down an unsaved little road, a border-patrol vehicle pulled out and followed us. Here we were in a big SUV with dark windows. . . I guess we looked suspicious. We decided it wasn't worth being searched or questioned, and turned around. It could have been iffy if there were people waiting in the bushes!

We had a fun time buying little puzzles at the dollar store for our object lesson for Institute. Our third border-patrol encounter was at the church on Thursday night. As we set up for class, one of the members who is a border-patrol helicopter pilot came in to tell us that a threat had been called in against churches. He was there to lock all the doors and guard the front foyer. Oooo, that was a little scary. No incidents, thank goodness. We had 28 students, including our newly-baptized friend, an investigator with the sister missionaries, a young man who is being re-activated by sister missionaries, and our fabulous YSAs. It is a joy to teach them, be with them, and learn with them! Several are returned missionaries. They love and support each other.

On Friday we went to THE INCREDIBLES 2 and enjoyed some time walking that beautiful mall. We are loving walking daily at the community fitness center. On Saturday night we had another fiesta to celebrate Bro. Orozco' birthday with a "carne asada" --which is a barbecue with a Mexican flavor. The favorite activity is karaoke! The surprise songbird was Sister Paedke. WOW--she was amazing. Also, Bro. Orozco can really sing! He and his wife are the YSA advisors and comida preparers. They have three grown children and three grandchildren. Sister Orozco now has all her documentation, and as soon as Brother Orozco's comes through, they will go to the temple in San Antonio.We are very excited for them.

I got to teach Relief Society on Sunday following Pres. Nelson's talk on 'Revelation" from April Conference. It was a special experience. I also gave my first missionary piano lesson to 14-yr-old David. The District owns some keyboards the kids can use for practice, and I give the lessons at the church for David. I invited him to come to the house, but his mother uses the Internet at the church during his lesson. I forget how little resources some of these people have. I offered our WiFi and a computer for her use here, but I think they may be more comfortable at the church. The "Los Presidentes" building is tiny, but beautiful. They have relocatable classrooms--which is where we will teach seminary. A renovation and expansion is planned for 2019. three large branches (soon to be wards) meet in this building--which is very near us. The Hillside Chapel is a large, regular-sized building. We like to attend and serve there, too, as one Spanish branch and one English branch meet at Hillside. Two Spanish and one English meet at Los Presidentes.

Love to all of you! We love being here in Laredo and doing the Lord's work!

Pioneers Matter

This is my talk from Laredo 1st Branch today, June 10, 2018:
On our wall at home hangs a cover of a Church News from almost 20 years ago. It hangs there because our son Sean is in the cover photograph with a handcart and camera equipment. The unusual thing is that in the background is the dome of the “Savior on the Blood” Church in St. Petersburg, Russia. The headline says, “Handcarts across Siberia.” In honor of the Mormon pioneers who, at great sacrifice, crossed the American plains more than 150 years before, modern-day Russian Saints trekked across their own land. They were an example of the new kind of pioneer—one who sacrifices the World to leave behind the darkness and walk into the light.

One such pioneer was Igor, the president of a little branch in Gotchna. At his first introduction to Mormon missionaries, he was drowning in drink and a life without purpose. He embraced the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and lost his government-supported job, his friends, and extended family. With faith he created his own business, traveled to Sweden to receive temple ordinances, and led his family in righteousness. As we stood with Igor, complaining of the rickety train which was stalled in the frozen Russian winter, it was Igor who dropped his head, folded his arms, and fervently prayed in faith for the Lord’s help. We quickly closed our eyes and felt the power of his pleadings. As he ended and we raised our heads, the train started, and we boarded for the trip back to St. Petersburg.

And now in Russia they look forward to a temple’s being built on Russian soil.

Elder Flanagan and I have talked many times about how you, our brothers and sisters in Laredo, are also pioneers—Saints who are willing to work, sacrifice, and covenant as you build a stake of Zion. We are blessed to be part of this exciting trek. We were asked to speak today about pioneers, and you were the first to come to mind.

For some reason, when I packed for our trip, I included one envelope of family histories. I am thankful for my own pioneer heritage—brave ancestors who faced pain and death in Europe, on the ocean’s waters, and across America’s wilderness. As in many pioneer stories, they left their properties and homes, unbelieving family, wealth, comfort, friends, and jobs, and pledged themselves to the building of God’s Kingdom above all else the world had to offer. My great-great-grandfather, Christopher Syverson Winger, was one of those valiant pioneers in the early restored church. Born in Norway in 1835, Christopher was a strong, handsome, and ambitious man. He apprenticed as a shoemaker. A young man, separated from home and family, he began to withdraw from his Lutheran religion and slipped into a worldly life, though he read the Bible and wished he could have lived in the days of Jesus and his apostles saying, “Oh, that I had lived in that day, then would I also have been faithful in proclaiming the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and even though I was brought before a judge and thrown into prison, I would have stood fast.” Little did he know that his future held just such a promise!

When two Mormon missionaries came to Drammen and stirred up much interest about a “new” church which proclaimed angels had visited the earth and given golden plates to a boy named Joseph Smith, Christopher listened. At his first hearing, he experienced a “heavenly feeling. It was as though a voice whispered to me that here was something which I must hear and investigate.” He traveled around Norway, securing jobs as he went and ending up as a factory worker with a Mormon who talked to him about the Gospel. Others warned him not to listen to these American ideas and tried to disparage those who would preach or join with such a group. Christopher, however, was drawn to Brother Frandsen (who was probably one of my husband’s ancestors!)and joined with him in a meeting where the Spirit was so strong, that Christopher cried and committed himself to baptism. He says that the Tempter tried to stop him, but he knew he should go ahead and be baptized and give his life to Christ.

At that time in Norway, Mormons were severely persecuted, and Christopher was choosing a difficult path. He was called as a traveling elder (missionary) and began to preach and baptize. This led to his imprisonment at least twice. He faced traveling on foot without purse or script in the freezing Scandinavian winters. Miracles saved him and strengthened him.

Terrible epidemics swept Europe, and C.S.S. Winger was called by the Norwegian government to go to school to become a doctor, which he did for a year and a half until his call to missionary work won out and he returned to God’s work full time. He was falsely accused of crimes and thrown in prison for weeks, subsisting on bread and water. Released on Christmas Day, he walked through the snow until (it is his testimony that) God sent two good men who offered to transport him by sleigh for a small amount of money (which he had hidden in the toe of his boot), then on the deck of a steamer where he was snowed upon day and night, and into Stavanger. He writes, “Even the school children pursued me on the streets, and both myself and the Saints were exposed to mob violence, but the Lord strengthened us and many believed our testimonies.” Again he was arrested for preaching Mormonism, and thrown into a dank and dark cell. When Christopher was finally released, he traveled about by foot, preaching and baptizing. One of the men he baptized was a wealthy man who took many Saints with him to Zion. None of Christopher’s family would listen to him, and none joined the Church in this life. Persecution had become so great that Christopher S.S. Winger was finally granted permission to leave Norway and go to Denmark. He had no money and marched on-foot through all of Sweden. Elder Winger served among the Saints and traveled still, preaching and baptizing until in 1863 when he received permission to emigrate to Zion. He sailed on the B.S. Kimball from Liverpool, England, with 700 Saints bound for America. Many couples were wed aboard the ship, including Christopher and his beloved Ane Marie Salvesen, whom he had known since childhood. They “arrived happy and well at Salt Lake City in the early part of September 1863.” Christopher stayed faithful and stalwart all of his days. He served another mission to Scandinavia and one to Minnesota. He had three wives and 24 children. Through his trials and sacrifices, he remained a faithful pioneer and bore his testimony firmly all of his days. When we are faithful through hardships, the Lord is building us into strong servants.

I am grateful for all the gospel pioneers! Because of their examples and sacrifices, the Church was firmly established for me and for you. And now Elder Flanagan and I have been called to work with the Laredo Pioneers of 2018—to build a stake—to prepare us all for more temples—to teach our young people to be the leaders of southern Texas. Like those who crossed the plains, I bear witness that we do not have to do it alone. Our Heavenly Father will send angels to attend us. Those who have gone before us will watch over us in the Lord’s work. We pray for you and ask you to pray for us in this righteous work.

Spiritual Matters

Tonight President Neal Peterson blessed us and set us apart as missionaries. It was another assurance that God is there, that He knows us and loves us, and that He is sending us to the exact place where He needs us. President Peterson addressed all my concerns and  referred to D&C 84:88. When the blessing was finished, I asked him if he knew that that was "our" scripture--pointing to the frame. He did not, but we all were touched that his words were the message that the Lord wanted us to hear. Jim's blessing addressed Jim's concerns and blessings for our family while we are gone. Wiping his tears, President Peterson told us that he couldn't find the exact words to express the feeling that had come to him when his hands were on Jim's head. It was something about our teachings helping the Gospel to spread across the border. I guess that we'll had to wait to see how it all plays out. President Peterson says we will know when it happens. It was a testimony to us that it was the Lord's message, through our very spiritual, in-tune stake president. Jim, Cameron, and Bishop Todd Parker participated in the laying on of hands.

Missionary Matters

We had our missionary "farewell" last Sunday. the best part was our family choir! Five of our boys, some daughters-in-law, and grandchildren sang "The Spirit of God." Brady and Kelsey sang solo parts, and Jill was our fabulous pianist. Here is a version of my talk:

Many years ago when were a very young family, we moved to a house in the country near Shelley, Idaho. Jim was working and had the opportunity to student teach seminary there. Steven and Derek were in first and third grade, and we had three pre-schoolers at home. We enrolled the boys at school and waited that first day for them to come home on the bus. This was in the days before cell phones, and we only had one car. When the bus came and went with no little Flanagan boys, I began to panic. It was late, and I wasn’t sure how to get help or what to do. No one was at the school by the time I called. Jim was at work and the nearest neighbors were not at home. I finally reached my mother-in-law in Idaho Falls, but she had to find a way to come. As twilight fell, amidst panic and prayers, my two little boys were seen walking down our country road. A miracle. How did they find their way? Not knowing which way to go, they had knelt together by a fencepost and said a prayer. A loving Father was watching out, and they were guided home. Isn’t that the way with all of us on this earthly journey? We are lost and alone until we rely on the Father to guide us back safely home.

As General conference closed on Easter Sunday, President Nelson stood and announced seven new temples. It was exciting to hear of another Utah temple. It was thrilling to hear the announcement of a temple in Russia. Seven new temples, but the one that took my breath away was the very thought of an Indian temple in Bengaluru. I had never thought of faithful Saints on the sub-continent praying for the blessings of the temple. Just as conference closed, Facebook dinged, and I looked to see a post from my friend Cecilia Jabakumar, principal of Arcadia Elementary.  She expressed her joy at the announcement of a temple in her homeland and exclaimed,, “How great is our God!” She later posted pictures and information about the thankful Saints in Bengaluru.  On his world tour, President Nelson told how there were to be 6 temples announced at conference, then the night before the announcement, the Lord told him to announce a temple in India.

The people of India have made many sacrifices for the Gospel.  Like the refugee converts I met in Turkey, they may have had to choose between the Church and their family. Like the branch president who met our train in Russia, they may have been forced from their jobs when they chose Christianity. Like the Iranian refugees, maybe they had to flee for their lives. No matter what sacrifices they had to make or we have to make, they made them willingly in exchange for the greater blessings and peace that the Gospel brings. “sacrifice brings forth the blessings of heaven!”

Sacrifice is giving up something good or desirable in exchange for something of greater value. As Latter-day Saints we often have to make those kinds of choices: Raising families, serving in callings, making time for dinners to the sick, attending the. Temple instead of ball games or. Netflix, or maybe serving a 23-month mission in Laredo, Texas!

Many years ago my nephew was called to serve in the Russia St. Petersburg mission where my son Sean was already serving. Matt was asked to speak on sacrifice much like I was for today. He said he didn't think a mission was a sacrifice. I was feeling the same way until I started remembering all the things we would miss while we are teaching seminary and Institute in Texas—baptisms, graduations, weddings, babies, trips. These are all good things, but it is true that it is a sacrifice to miss them.

Remember the sacrifices on the altars in Old Testament times: Adam, Noah, Moses and all the prophets taught their people to lay on the altar the best they had in similitude of the Savior who would come and offer himself as the ultimate sacrifice. Easter has just passed, and we remember Christ in the Garden, on the cross, and resurrected on the road to Emmaus. His mission did away with blood sacrifices, but we still offer our sacrifices in similitude. We are asked to lay our pride on the altar, to give Him our hearts, our lives, and our love. 3 Nephi 9:19-20:

19. And ye shall offer up unto me no more the shedding of blood; yea, your sacrifices and your burnt offerings shall be done away, for I will accept none of your sacrifices and your burnt offerings.

20 And ye shall offer for a sacrifice unto me a broken heart and a contrite spirit. And whoso cometh unto me with a broken heart and a contrite spirit, him will I baptize with fire and with the Holy Ghost, even as the Lamanites, because of their faith in me at the time of their conversion, were baptized with fire and with the Holy Ghost, and they knew it not.

Cristina Rosetti said, "what shall I give Him, poor as I am?" Nothing seems to quite measure up. So, we are going to Laredo. For 23 months we will put aside the busyness of our lives and focus on the Lord's work.

Elder Haleck gave a talk in last October's conference called "The Heart of the Widow." He says that the heart of the widow is defined by a willingness to give all for building up the kingdom of God on the earth. Do we have that same heart, that willingness? Mark 12:41-44: "And Jesus sat over against the treasury, and beheld how the people cast money into the treasury: and many that were rich cast in much. And there came a certain poor widow, and she threw in two mites, which make a farthing. And he called into him his disciples, and saith unto them, Verily I say unto you, that this poor widow hath cast more in than all they which have cast into the treasury. For all they did cast in of their abundance; but she of her want did cast in all that she had, even all her living."

"The heart of the widow who gave her two mites is a heart that will give all by making sacrifices; by enduring hardship, persecution, and rejection; and by bearing burdens of many kinds. The heart of the widow is a heart that senses, feels, and knows the light of truth and will give anything to embrace that truth. It also helps others to see that same light and come to the same measure of eternal happiness and joy. Finally, the heart of the widow is defined by a willingness to give all for the building up of the Kingdom of God on earth."

President Monson said, "As we follow the example of the Savior, ours will be the opportunity to be a light in the lives of others."

My sacrifice seems small compared to so many who sell their homes and cars, leave their children and grandchildren, and leave to serve in faraway, poor countries. We have traveled all over the world, and we have been called to serve in a busy border town on the Rio Grande.

Elder Dallin H. Oaks asked us to find ways we can sacrifice to help us come closer to the Savior. April 2012 That sacrifice—the Atonement of Jesus Christ—is at the center of the plan of salvation.

The incomprehensible suffering of Jesus Christ ended sacrifice by the shedding of blood, but it did not end

the importance of sacrifice in the gospel plan. Our Savior requires us

to continue to offer sacrifices, but the sacrifices He now commands are that we “offer for a sacrifice unto [Him]

a broken heart and a contrite spirit”

(3 Nephi 9:20). He also commands each of us to love and serve one another—in effect, to offer a small imitation of His own sacrifice by making sacrifices of our own time and selfish priorities.”

President Nelson told the people in Bengaluru, "It is easier for us to build a temple, than it is for us to build a people who are ready for the ordinances and covenants of the temple. It is going to take you a while to get ready." Then he joked that they better hurry because he is 93, and he wants to return to dedicate the temple. He said with a temple in India, members will have to "give up contention, learn to love one another even better than we already do, we will have to keep the commandments, we will have to be honest, we will have to be fair, we will have to be a covenant-keeping people."

His counsel is true for all of us. Our time is short. It is time for us to be willing to lay it all on the altar. We can never repay Him for all he has given us. How great is our God!

A Grandfather's Inspiration

Fathers Matter

This is the main body of a talk I gave at church on Fathers' Day: I am grateful to come today and share with you some thoughts from Elder D. Todd Christofferson as I honor my Daddy, my husband—the father of my seven children and super grandfather--, and our Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. “As a Church, we believe in fathers. We believe in “the ideal of the man who puts his family first.”2 We believe that “by divine design, fathers are to preside over their families in love and righteousness and are responsible to provide the necessities of life and protection for their families.”3 We believe that in their complementary family duties, “fathers and mothers are obligated to help one another as equal partners.”4 We believe that far from being superfluous, fathers are unique and irreplaceable.” My father was not perfect, but maybe he was the perfect father for me. He was not very demonstrative, but he adored my mother, and he was proud of his children. We sometimes joke that it took Daddy 33 years after Mother died to learn what he had to learn to be worthy of her in the eternities. My dad took us on great adventures—like Warm River, the sand dunes, the bat caves, softball games at Tautphaus Park, and frequent trips to Yellowstone--tutored me in the intricacies of mathematics and scientific principles—he was a scientist, an analytical spectroscopic—and always had a pun or a joke to make us laugh. He was raised to work hard, live the Gospel, and study and learn. He was not tutored in hugs, kisses, praise, or soft words. That’s why God sent him my mother. However, in the last couple of years of his life, he came to be more and more like our greatest example, our Heavenly Father. The last time we left his house, he hugged and kissed us and called me “sweetie.” He had not been there to see me receive honors, star in the school play, graduate from college, or be sealed to my sweetheart. In the last few days of his life he WAS there to drop off a grandson at college, attend a family reunion, and sit with us in a temple session in the St. George Temple. This was a lesson to me to be a lifelong learner. “Some see the good of fatherhood in social terms, as something that obligates men to their offspring, impelling them to be good citizens and to think about the needs of others, supplementing “maternal investment in children with paternal investment in children. … In short, the key for men is to be fathers. The key for children is to have fathers. The key for society is to create fathers.”5 While these considerations are certainly true and important, we know that fatherhood is much more than a social construct or the product of evolution. The role of father is of divine origin, beginning with a Father in Heaven and, in this mortal sphere, with Father Adam.” Jim determined young to be a father who loved and was there for his kids. Despite, or maybe because of, negative examples, he has always been there for his children and grandchildren. He has never been much of a hugger, but he is still learning. The other day we were at the distribution center, and he noticed a dad kissing his baby on the head. When we got in the car, he teared up and said how that morning, tending Brady’s babies, he couldn't help but hug them tight and keep kissing their little heads. Wedding story… A couple weeks ago we had an interesting experience. Our oldest granddaughter had asked her grandfather to officiate at her wedding. She was marrying a man of another faith, and she wanted Jim to perform the ceremony. He told her that he had no authority to perform a wedding, but she enthusiastically explained that in Colorado anyone can perform a wedding and that they essentially would be marrying themselves by signing a piece of paper. So, for two months Jim worried about what he would say and what advice he would give to this young couple. He wanted to say the very best thing for our son and granddaughter. He wanted to inspire our son to return to full activity in the Church and take his family to the temple to be sealed. Every prayer was pleading with the Lord that he would know what to say. I was harping at Jim to write his words down so that he would be organized. When we got to Denver, I saw that Jim had not even packed a suit, so we had to make a quick trip to Kohl’s to find clothing appropriate for performing a marriage ceremony! Jim never likes to write things down, and I was afraid he might say something goofy or forget what he wanted to say, but he was insistent that he knew what the Lord wanted him to say. The afternoon garden wedding was sweet, and Jim’s words were appropriate (not goofy!). Everything went as planned. We went to the afternoon luncheon at the church and then back to the garden for the reception. As we got ready to leave the celebration, our son pulled us aside to tell us how perfect Dad’s words were. (I thought they were “okay.”) Derek said that Becky asked him if he had told his dad what to say. Derek thought Becky must have talked to Jim—all because, unbeknownst to us, there had been a big fight between the bride and her future mother-in-law, who did not want this Mormon girl asking her son away from her. The wedding had almost been canceled. Grandpa’s inspired words were exactly what they all needed to hear! We told Derek that his dad had been praying about what to say for two months, and we were sure that it was through inspiration that the counsel was given. “The perfect, divine expression of fatherhood is our Heavenly Father. His character and attributes include abundant goodness and perfect love. His work and glory are the development, happiness, and eternal life of His children.6 Fathers in this fallen world can claim nothing comparable to the Majesty on High, but at their best, they are striving to emulate Him, and they indeed labor in His work. They are honored with a remarkable and sobering trust. Perhaps the most essential of a father’s work is to turn the hearts of his children to their Heavenly Father. If by his example as well as his words a father can demonstrate what fidelity to God looks like in day-to-day living, that father will have given his children the key to peace in this life and eternal life in the world to come.9 A father who reads scripture to and with his children acquaints them with the voice of the Lord.10 “And they shall also teach their children to pray, and to walk uprightly before the Lord.”11 Our Heavenly Father is the great example. The greatest responsibility of fathers is to teach their children to live in righteousness. His plan for us—the ideal—is to have a father and a mother, working together to build a an Eternal family. We all experience the imperfections of mortal life in this terrestrial world. We make mistakes; we pick ourselves up, repent, and do better next time. We have families who deal with death and divorce, fathers who are not in the home, children who suffer—but we know the ideal, and we work to fulfill the plan our Father in Heaven has for us through living the Gospel of Jesus Christ. “Some may have fathers who are physically present but emotionally absent or in other ways inattentive or non-supportive. We call on all fathers to do better and to be better. Certainly teaching the gospel is a shared duty between fathers and mothers, but the Lord is clear that He expects fathers to lead out in making it a high priority. (And let’s remember that informal conversations, working and playing together, and listening are important elements of teaching.) The Lord expects fathers to help shape their children, and children want and need a model. Discipline and correction are part of teaching. As Paul said, “For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth.”14 But in discipline a father must exercise particular care, lest there be anything even approaching abuse, which is never justified. When a father provides correction, his motivation must be love and his guide the Holy Spirit: “Reproving betimes with sharpness, when moved upon by the Holy Ghost; and then showing forth afterwards an increase of love toward him whom thou hast reproved, lest he esteem thee to be his enemy; “That he may know that thy faithfulness is stronger than the cords of death.”15 Discipline in the divine pattern is not so much about punishing as it is about helping a loved one along the path of self-mastery. “Ye will not suffer your children that they go hungry, or naked; neither will ye suffer that they transgress the laws of God, and fight and quarrel one with another. … “But ye will teach them to walk in the ways of truth and soberness; ye will teach them to love one another, and to serve one another.”18 Remember the yearning hope of a father as expressed by John: “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth.”21 Your righteousness is the greatest honor any father can receive.(All quotes from D. Todd Christopherson’s 2016 conference talk on fathers.)” The Mormon Message at the top of the LDS website ends with this message from the First Presidency: “Of all the titles of respect and honor and admiration that are given to deity, He has asked us to address him as Father.”

About my Grandmother, Mary Hannah Green Olson By Janice Rose Olson Flanagan 9/17/2016 For as long as I can remember, Grandma and Grandpa Olson lived in a small apartment near downtown Idaho Falls. I only remember being with Grandma Olson a few times out of that apartment. As she aged, her diabetes took its toll, and she became housebound. I do remember one shopping trip that ended in a pineapple milkshake at the counter at Woolworths and a couple of visits to our house on special occasions. By the time that Grandma died, just before Easter when I was twelve or thirteen, my memories of her were clustered up a steep flight of stairs in a layout that included a small kitchen with a stovepipe and small refrigerator that held her insulin and syringes. I knew that Grandpa administered her life-saving shots daily. My favorite place in the kitchen was the breadbox, for therein was a stash of Pecan Sandies and maybe some root-beer fizzies. I remember the floor as metal, but in places covered with vinyl. The bathroom was just big enough for the old claw-foot tub, and the bedroom held a closet full of Grandma’s old treasures—gifts given through the years but saved for something special and still in their original wrappings at her death. Old-fashioned pictures on the wall were of a beautiful young woman who (I was shocked to find out) had become this dear grandmother, so old and ill upon her bed. I do not think I had ever seen inside the bedroom until we visited in the last weeks of her life, when she could no longer sit in her beloved living-room chair. The “living room” truly was where Grandma and Grandpa lived. Across the hall was a small storage for coal delivery, and we grandchildren were often charged with filling the bucket and bringing heat to the pot-bellied stove. I remember eating dinner at Grandma’s only once. She served tomato aspic, and I was happy never to relive THAT experience! A massive upright piano dominated one wall. I never heard Grandma play, but she loved to hear us children play, even those very beginning pieces. It was on that piano that I first heard my dad play and learned that he was able to play “by ear.” Grandma requested that I play “Oh, My Father” at her funeral. If I did it, I think I cried through it. I am not sure I was able to honor her request. The only music I heard Grandma play was on her phonograph—old Hawaiian music, which she loved. She also loved her TV, especially Lawrence Welk and Ed Sullivan. On Sunday afternoons when we visited, she might pull out her table-top pinball game or old photograph albums. I loved the old photos, except for one sad picture of Grandma’s last baby, lying in a casket. She had been stillborn. Grandma Olson taught me to embroider. She was a master with a needle and thread! She patiently spent many days with me at her side, teaching me the stiches as I made pillow cases and dish towels. I remember cousins sitting in, but I am not sure they responded to needle work the same way I did. I still love to embroider and never do needle projects without thinking of my Grandmother Olson. I remember a “discussion” on the spelling of our Olson name. Even within the immediate family, some brothers spelled the name with an “e.” I never was sure if the “e” was the one retained from the Swedish Oleson or Olesen. While Grandpa Olson was always away at work or sitting by the fire behind his newspaper (that’s my childhood memory, anyway), Grandma was always at home. She and Grandpa had an odd relationship, I thought. Grandpa served in the church for many years while Grandma stayed in that upstairs apartment. I know Grandma had some issues with some church doctrines--like polygamy. Sometimes when I look in the mirror with my hair severely pulled back I see Grandma Olson staring back. I know she loved me, though her hair was not the only part of her that was severe. I know she loved my mother and relied on her care more than her own children sometimes. She had “knick-knacks” around her house, and I still have one of her little “knick-knack” tables in the corner of my family room. My knick-knacks are memories of sewing, photographs, music, puzzles, cookies, coal buckets, newspapers, and a very sad heart that Sunday we got there just as they were carrying her body down the apartment stairs. I know very little about Mary Hannah Green except what I experienced at her knee, and by then she was a grandma with swollen legs and feet and graying hair pulled into a net. She had lived a whole life as a child, a teen, and a bride. She had birthed seven children and buried one. I am sad that I do not know that young girl because I am sure all those years before me made her who she was to me.