Look Over There

     One day last week I arrived at the office and looked for my keys I keep in my purse. They weren't there.  We were busy throughout the day and evening so I didn't have a chance to look for them. The next day I looked in my music bag for the keys because that is the last place I remember having them.  They weren't there.

     Still not worried, but a little put out with myself, I started checking all my pockets. No keys. I checked all the drawers, chairs, floors. No keys.  I didn't know where else to look.  I told Jay, and he also checked where I had already done so.  No keys.  I decided that we would just have to go to the office again without the keys, and then come home and search more.

     I went into the bathroom to get ready, and offered a quiet little prayer. I said I had looked everywhere and the keys weren't there.  I asked for help.  In the time it took to take a breath, in my mind I saw my red Scripture bag.  I walked to the room where it was, saw my Bible in the bag, but nothing else.  I was just about to turn around when I was told to look under the Bible.  I lifted the Book out, and there were my keys!!!!!  I have no idea how they got there.  They were separated from the key ring that holds all my keys. I never put keys in my Scripture bag. 

     God answers prayers.  Sometimes quickly, sometimes later.  Sometimes "yes", sometimes "no", sometimes, "later". 

Guardian Angel?

     I consider this to be too sacred to post on facebook but want to share with those more intimately encircled.

     I have been blessed with many gifts. I have one gift that relates to this blog. I have sensed and seen spirits. Usually they are female.  I know who some of them are, but others are not identified.

     Lately I have "caught" one out of the corner of my eye, and it disappears quickly.  One evening when Jay and I were returning home to our apartment, we stepped off the elevator and approached our door. Jay was fumbling with the lock when I looked up and saw a spirit someone turn and leave.  Because of my previous experiences, I didn't really react. It was just "another spirit."

     I have been quite ill with a cold this past week and hadn't left the apartment since last Sunday. Yesterday was Thursday. I have four piano students who are getting ready for a recital. I needed to be there for their lessons. The Ward choir scheduled a practice immediately after piano lessons. This means I was gone for a little over three hours. I was tired, considering I had just spent the past six days in bed.  Returning home, I stepped out of the elevator, key in hand, to enter our apartment.  There are about 10 steps from the elevator to our door, and when I had taken a little more than half of those steps, I looked up and again saw the same spirit who had been there earlier. I sensed that she was with me to see me safely home. It was very comforting. I don't know who she is. She could be someone who has a personal interest in me, but could be the one assigned to watch over us while we are serving a mission.

     The one thing I know for certain from this experience, is that, I am not alone. I have protection at all times. I have a guard for even such simple things as leaving the apartment, crossing the street to Temple Square, and returning home to the presence of a Priesthood bearer.  Is this perhaps one way how I share the priesthood? Is this evidence of the answer to all your prayers for our safety? Yes, I believe so.

Tender Mercy and the Loose Screw

    Eyeglasses are as much a part of me as the eyes they assist.  Only recently have I been able to remove them and be satisfied with the vision I have, thanks to cataract surgery and a little correction within. 

     The more frequent removal may have something to do with this story, for perhaps the more constant change in pressure on the joints of the glasses caused a reaction. I have never had much problem with my glasses over my life, other than the breaking of older frames, or their slipping down my nose. I was not aware of things that could go wrong.   It was liberating to find joints on frames that were flexible, yet would hug my face firmly. That is  my priority when shopping for frames.

     Recently, over the past six months, I have thought these temple pieces were getting a little loose, but nothing seemed to be a problem.  One day as we were ready to leave the apartment, my lens fell out onto the table.  I was able to snap it back in, and with the "snap" I thought everything was purely accident.  A month ago it fell out again, and I couldn't make it stay in. There was no "snap".  Jay put it in and said, "Be careful." Last week I went to get my glasses and found them on the table with the lens lying beside the frame.  After trying half a dozen times unsuccessfully to correct the problem, I sat down to closely inspect them. I discovered that the screw that connects the lower part of the frame to the upper part, hence securing the lens, had come apart.  I quickly found a screw driver small enough, tightened all the loose screwS, and realized my tender mercy. 

     The tender mercy of all this, is that the screw was still there, that the final breaking point was safely in our apartment, on the table.  In all the walking and bus travel, and touring we had done in those six months, all the removing and putting on occasions, and the manipulations to replace the lens, that screw was STILL THERE!  Even in the apartment, it happened while LYING ON THE TABLE! Anywhere else but there would have been bad news.

"Paid by the Animal" Game

     One week our family drove to Yellowstone Park. My dad drove, my mother read the map and handed us sandwiches and drinks. My brother Jim sat on one side of the back seat and I sat on the other side.  Jim liked to tease me, especially in ways that my parents couldn't see.  I would squeal and object, and when my parents had heard enough, my dad would pick the hairbrush that always seemed to be in the front seat, reach over the seat and try to make us stop making noise (me, and not my fault). They never told Jim to stop teasing, only told me to stop making noise.  Well, Jim was bored and he was about 14 or 15 years old. I was somewhere around nine.   The second day was very cloudy and a little rainy. We were driving some more, and Jim was getting ready to start teasing. My mother sensed this and made up a new game. She said, " Look out the window for wild animals. I will give you five cents for one kind, 10 cents for another kind, and 25 cents for even another.  We had not seen one single wild animal up to that point. Even on earlier trips to The Park, we hadn't seen more than a few bears, an elk or two, and perhaps a bison. I think she was planning on that and could afford that much change.  Soon, we came around a bend in the road and spied a whole herd of elk. We couldn't even count them all. There must have been a hundred of them. It wasn't too long before we drove by a herd of bison. Boy, Jim and I were really excited by now!  My parents weren't so excited for some reason.  We saw five or six bear, and a few eagles.  We never did collect our earnings, but the experience created a great memory.  I have never again seen the same population of wild animals in a single day in The Park

Valued Lesson

     There are some things in this world you can only learn by hard work. Where do you learn to work hard? I think it is a combination of things: work ethic, desire, need, and maybe some more.

     I learned my work ethic from the need and desire to accomplish things that werent getting done by overwhelmed parents. I learned to carry through from my piano teacher. I learned to finish projects from school teachers. Not all were fun. Not many were of my choosing. Some motivation was personal, some was by prod or reward. My husband learned from a desire to make things better. He learned from the necessities of poverty. He learned to depend upon himself for motivation.

      My children learned their work ethic from their parents.  With a family growing larger every few years, there were always things to be washed, picked up, and made better. With hungry mouths to feed came a garden that enlarged a few feet every year. Each growing foot of garden produced more weeds. Those weeds needed to be removed. Those children learned to weed to the end of the row. They learned to clean, wash, pick up and make better till the job was done. They complained. They procrastinated. They unwillingly obeyed. And now, they praise their parents for having had these experiences.  Hopefully they are passing these lessons learned on to their children.

     I just recentlly came across a Desert News article about work ethic/children, and I would like to share a piece of it. If I had memorizing skills intact, I would memorize it. This is a poem by Douglas Malloch:

         " Bill Brown made a million,
          Bill Brown, think of that!
          A boy, you remember, as poor as a rat.
          Who hoed for the neighbors, did jobs by the day,
          Well Bill's made a million, or near it, they say.
          You cant understand it, well neither could I.
          And then I remembered, and now I know why.
          The bell might be ringing, the dinner horn blow,
          But Bill always hoed to the end of the row."

      

Just for Laughs

     There is a senior missionary here who related the following story. I dont know if it is true or not, as this particular missionary tells a lot of things that arent true.  He is a bona fide leg-puller.

     It was Fast Sunday. The congregation participated, each in his own way. Some bore testimonies from the pulpit, others gained strength from those audibly borne.  It came time for the meeting to end when a sister jumped up and walked quickly to the pulpit. As she proceeded with her testimony, she became a little weepy. She did the little hand flutter thing and wiped away a tear or two.  In closing, she apologized in a shaky voice for being such a big boob, but couldnt help it. Then she returned to her seat in the congregation.

     The bishop got up to close the meeting. His first comment was directed toward this weepy member, "That's alright, Sister ......., my counselors and I like big boobs."

     It was just seconds till he realized what he had said and he was embarassed.

Those Neighbors!

     Our neighbors on Walnut Street were the McCarrans on the south. The Kalepps lived on the other side. The Dad was named Footsy, and my friend's name was Linda.

     McCarrans daughter, Patty, was about a year older than I, and knew more things than I did. I had a pair of roller skates and was just learning to use them. I think I put them on for the first time when Patty asked if she could skate, too. Well, what do you do when two little girls want to skate and there is only one pair of skates? Right. You share.  Our solution was for each of us to wear one skate.  It was a lot easier that way. We pushed on the grass with one foot while the foot with the skate rolled on the sidewalk.

     One day, in the morning, I went out the front door, carrying a box of cereal. I was going to eat it right from the box.  My mama said it was okay.  I was standing in the yard, eating puffed rice by the handful when Mrs McCarran came out. She saw me eating right from the box and told me that I should take it back into the house. She said my mama wouldnt want me to be doing that. I didnt pay any attention to her, because I knew my mama didnt care.  Mrs. McCarran called my mama on the telephone and pretty soon I had to go in. I ate my cereal out of the box in the house.

     Linda Kalepp was younger than I was, and still slept in a crib. I slept in a big girl's bed.  This was the first time I remember seeing a crib and was fascinated by it. I didnt say anything, but Mrs. Kalepp asked me if I would like to get into the crib. I said yes,and she lifted me into it. I sat there for a few minutes and then she lifted me back out. 

     One morning I went over to see if Linda could play.  She was still eating breakfast.  She didnt want to eat. Her mama asked me if I would like to eat her breakfast. I said yes, because it was a soft boiled egg, and I loved them. I felt sorry that Linda wouldnt eat it, but I was very happy to help her.

     During World War II it was very hard to get food.  The food went to the soldiers. People were asked to plant little gardens in their yards to help feed their families.  The Kalepps planted their garden right next to the picket fence between our back yards. In the middle of the summer, I noticed that their garden had nice green leaves. I pulled one up, and to my surprise, there was a carrot attached!  I liked carrots. The carrot was really good. I pulled another and ate it. I thought that was enough for one day. The next day I pulled a few more.  When I did that the third day, I thought  I had better save some for them, so didnt pick any more.

     Patty lived across the alley. I didnt know her very well, but we played together a few times. One afternoon, we played in her yard for a really long time. It was getting dark. When she went in for dinner, I went home.  My mama and daddy were very angry with me because they didnt know where I was.  I had to go to bed without any dinner.

     The Liddiards lived next the the Kalepps. All the kids in their family were really big and old. Some were even teen agers. One of them was our babysitter a few times. We didnt really need a babysitter because Jim was eleven years old. That is what Jim and I thought.  One day the babysitter took me downtown with her. She took me on the tram. The tram is a short train that ran the length of the town and out to the smelter where our dads worked. My mama didnt want me to ride the tram, and when I told her what an exciting day I had, she got mad at the babysitter and we never had her again.

   Next to the Liddiards, on the corner there was a little girl about my age. I dont know what her name was, I dont think I knew even then. She and I played in her house. She had a little table just her size, and she had a coloring book and crayons. I had never seen such things before. I went back to her house to color in her book.

     Timmy Sullivan lived around the corner, across the street from the store. He had a dog named Georgie.  I had just learned the poem, Georgie Porgie, puddin' and pie; Kissed the girls and made them cry.  I didnt understand how a dog could kiss girls, and why they would cry.  Timmy had some baby cereal called Pablum in his basement. We tried it, but it wasnt very good. We fed it to Georgie, who seemed to like it.

     Kathy McMahon lived next to Timmy. She had a big brother named John, and a big sister named Gertrude.  John was mean. He took my stuffed rabbit that the Easter Bunny brought. My brother went to his house and got my rabbit back.  Gertrude had make-up in her room.  Kathy and went in there and decorated ourselves. We painted our fingernails with her nail polish. We tried very hard not to spill, but we were just little girls.  Gertrude (we called her Gerchoode) was REALLY mad at us.