This is My Story

Shana is speaking in Sacrament Meeting on Sunday about becoming converted to the Gospel.  She's asked for our stories of how we were converted. I'm not sure what she's asking for - of if the following will help her at all.

It’s not much of a story – but here goes.

After my parents divorced when I was 12, my mother became engaged to a young LDS man that had recently moved to this area from Idaho.  As they talked about their marriage plans the subject of religion came up.  I was raised in the Baptist church.  Mother attended the same church but she never became a member (she was raised in the Methodist church and she felt more comfortable there).  And after the divorce we did visit the Methodist Church but that only lasted for a little while.

After much discussion arrangements were made for missionaries to come to our house to teach us the lessons.  Our missionaries were a couple of dear, sweet elderly sister missionaries from Wyoming.  But I have no memory of when we were baptized or by whom or where. 

After our baptism, we went from a lovely little church not too far from our house in Irving to a run-down condemned church in Grand Prairie (what an adventure that was!).  And after the Grand Prairie ward was split we ended up having to drive from Irving to Oak Cliff to meet in the Stake Center  After doing that for a while we rented a building from another faith to use while our chapel was being finished.  And then finally we had a building of our own.

When I was baptized it was to make my mother happy.  Lee and I were told that we were being baptized – no questions asked. So my conversion story doesn’t start at the beginning of my time in the Church but more in middle. 

My conversion has never happened all at once.  I’ve found that it’s happened over time.  Like the song says, “Line upon line, precept on precept.”

I’ve never experienced any earth shattering moments when I’ve known that certain concepts were true.  Instead of a “burning bosom” I’ve received a wonderful feeling of peace.  After praying over something, studying my scriptures, or having a discussion with someone who knows far more than I do concerning a specific topic sometimes I’ll feel like a light has gone off over my head (light bulb!) whenever I’ve “discovered” that a certain something is true.  How did I know it was true?  Because of the influence of the Holy Ghost.  And it makes sense to me. The Lord’s Church does make sense.  Perfect sense. 

I have had some extremely spiritual moments. 

Kneeling across the altar and being sealed for time and all eternity to my sweetheart and his telling me that we could now “start making plans for the future.”

Or holding each of my babies in my arms for the first time and then looking into your father’s eyes while we’re both thinking that THIS is for all time and eternity. 

Getting to speak at Ashley’s baptism and understanding the reason for our needing to be baptized.  And the blessings that we receive when we do as the Savior has instructed us.

Watching your father giving a blessing and my being in absolute amazement at the things that he’s prompted to say because of the power of the Priesthood.  And his being an honorable, worthy Priesthood holder who is acting on the Lord’s behalf.

There have been times when I’ve felt my breathe taken away because of the truth that I was experiencing at that very moment.  I don’t know how many times I’ve looked at a sunset, watched a leaf fall in in slow graceful movements to its final resting place on the ground, listening to a thunderstorm, watching fog roll in over a mountain, seeing a strawberry growing wild in the middle of a beautiful garden. And knowing that all life on this earth is connected because of Heavenly Father’s guidance and direction to have this world created just so.  And to know that the beauty of the earth was created for me.  For me!  And for mine.  And for all that I know and love. 

I’ve heard the whispers of the Spirit as I’ve listened to hymns, testifying of the truthfulness of the Gospel.  I’ve read posts on blogs that provide witness to those things that I need to understand.  And I’ve had little ones in my lap who look in my eyes while we sing “I am a Child of God” and I’ll realize that I am a daughter of God – even though I’m hardly a child anymore.  But I’m still His child.  And will always be so.

And I've felt a guiding hand at that moment and known those little bits of the gospel to be true.

We’re told in the scriptures that we are to have joy in our lives.  Heavenly Father truly wants us to be happy.  And to return to Him.  And I know that this feeling of joy I feel occurs when I’m converted to the Gospel.  Joy.  Happiness.  Peace. Knowing that my Heavenly Father truly loves me.  And watches over me.

I’m still discovering, connecting and being converted to the Church and the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  I’m not a very good witness because I don’t have all the knowledge and/or understanding that others have.  This is a journey that I’ll be on the rest of my life.  And to be honest I think that I’ve done alright.  I have a much better understanding now of my spiritual journey.  I am not as impatient as I once was.  It's not for me to know all things at all times.  That’s not meant for me.

Baby steps.  That’s what I’m taking now is baby steps. 

And hopefully - before my turn on this earth is through - I’ll be able to lengthen my stride as I learn more and be able to witness more strongly and assuredly than before - that yes - I know that the Gospel is true.

 

Do it Now. Don't wait . . .

I’ve lost one of my heroes – Alonzo Shelley.  He was my bishop when I was a teenager. He and his family lived down the street and around the corner from me.  I got to babysit some of their kids before I went to college.  And after we had a family of our own - one of their sons was friends with my oldest and their youngest child was a friend to my older daughter.  Sort of a cross-generational thing. 

He was a good bishop.  And great father figure.  And he taught me a lot by example.  But the one that gained the most from our friendship was my husband Jim.

When we first met Jim wasn’t a member.  I was – but not a very good one.  I didn’t set the best example of the Church and/or its teachings.  However, somewhere, somehow, my beliefs intrigued him.  And he met with the missionaries.  Imagine their delight when they’d finish a discussion, ask “When can you meet with you again?” and his answer was, “What about now?”  Talk about “golden!”

JIm was baptized soon after that.  It broke his parents’ hearts.  His father was a deacon in their congregation and his grandfather was a part-time minister.  So this sudden change of religion did not sit well with them.  We had already decided to get married – hard enough on his mom as he was her only boy.  And now this.  I’m sure that they blamed the whole thing on me.  And it was hard on him, too.  He loved his parents.  And he wanted to do them proud, but they were certain that this wasn’t the way to earn that pride and respect.  They turned their hearts from him.  But only for a while.  

Before he left for basic training and whenever Jim would come home for visits, my then fiancée met with my former (by that time) bishop, Bishop Shelley.  On his front porch, with no one else around.  Just the two of them.  And “my” bishop was giving him a “personal priesthood interview.”  Asking if he was worthy.  Did he study his scriptures, tithe, say his prayers and honor his priesthood.  Did he attend his meetings?  Did he keep his covenants that he made at baptism?  Did he love me?  Did he honor me? 

And then Bishop Shelley would share words of wisdom, guidance and love.  I was, after all, one of “his girls.”  You have no idea what sort of impact this had on my husband-to-be.

So the years passed.  We got married and then moved with Jim’s assignments in the military and school but eventually moved back home.  Bishop Shelley and his family were still in the area.  And those bonds were renewed.  Jim & I both were busy with work, callings, family responsibilities, etc. so didn’t get to spend any real time with them.  But we got to interact with them during church and at ward functions and visits to the temple.  And Jim and I continued to learn from them.  Not so much by the words they said but by the way they treated each other and how they treated the other members of the ward.  With pure love.  The pure love of Christ.

Then Bishop Shelley got sick.  And sicker.  His illness took a terrible toll on him, his loving wife and their family.  And we all knew that the end was near.  And then?  He was gone.

I’ll miss him, but I’m so glad he’s no longer in pain.  And that Sister Shelley now has some relief, too. She was his primary care giver and it was hard on her to watch him as his health failed, the medicines taking away his strength and personality, and make it hard to help him.  But the Lord knew it was time for him to “return with honor” and he did just that.

I’m especially grateful that he had such a positive impact on my husband and on me.  I’m grateful that the good influence that he had on us has been visited on our children.  His words were taken by heart by a good man who did indeed become better and who followed Bishop Shelley’s example when he was called to be bishop. 

Although my heart is filled with gratitude I’m also sad.  But not for the reasons you’d think.

I should have told him, “Thank you”.  Over and over again.  I didn’t tell him that I loved him often enough and that I was glad that he loved me, too.  I’m grateful that he was always such a good example of choosing the right, but I never told him.  And I never told him how his “interviews” and moments with Jim were so appreciated.  And how he influenced a good bishop who in turn influenced so many others.

Is there someone like that in your life?  Someone that you owe a debt of gratitude?  That you need to thank and share with them what they’ve done for you and yours?  If so, tell them.  And thank them.  Before they’re gone, too.  And you have a hole in your heart because you didn’t share your words and thoughts with them.

Our lives on this earth are so short when compared with the eternities that are ahead of us.  And our lives are hard, too. Some harder than others. 

Soften hearts.  Renew ties.  Share love and kindness.  Forgive.  Repent.  Speak kind words from the heart.  And thank them.  Tell them how much they mean to you.  What they’ve done for you when they didn’t even know it.

You won’t regret it if you do, but you will regret it if you don’t.

Bishop Shelley – I love you.  And I will, always and forever, be your Robin Hood.  And you will always be “my bishop”.

How do you frisk a cat?

Carefully.

My cat Mister is such a treasure.  Right up front I want everyone to know that. He's not the brightest. But he loves me.  And has been finding extra special ways to prove it.

We have rabbits in the hood.  They come from a street over.  They're just sharing their little hairry love.  Mister avoids them.  Can't figure them out. I figured they were safe from them.  I mean - he won't mess with the 2 lb. Chihuahua from next door, so I guess something "mid-size" would more fit his purpose.

At first the neighbors thought they were cute.  But after folks started finding little pot holes in their yard some weren't so sure anymore.  I am not one of them.  I think they're cute.  And I like watching them playing in the front yard while carefully filling in their freshly dug holes.I try to sneak up on them but I'm kind of hard to miss, if you know what I mean.

Last weekend was wonderful & spirit filled.  We went to the funeral of a friend's dear husband (mentioned in an earlier post).  Beautiful music.  Great talks & rememberances.  Lots of laughs.  It was a true celebration of his life.

Then we went to the Temple that evening with kids and a Gdaughter. Afterwards we helped close down a Spring Creek BBQ.  Now - that's a rowdy crowd I am proud to hang with! We had good food, better company and just have the best ol' time!

But then?  A surprise was waiting for us when we pulled into our driveway late Saturday night.

We pulled into the driveway and saw that there were no bunnies visiting our front yard.  Mister was racing across the yard and I asked him where were the bunnies?  Then we got to the porch and discovered that he had killed a baby bunny and brought to us as a tribute.  He was so proud.  Wanted me to see it first thing.  Showing off his hunting skills.  Whatever.  Jim had to take care of it for me.  I talked to Mister and told him no more baby bunnies.

But I guess he thought he had a good thing going.

Wednesday night Jim was picking up a piece of trash, walked to the trash can muttering to himself (which considering our household is not all that unusual), and tossed something in.  But then he covered it up with more trash.  Now I was a little curious. He told me that I had better start frisking Mister whenever he came into the house. Why would I need to do that?  Because he'd brought in a present for us (not the literal us - he meant the "me" us.) and dropped it on the floor in the den.  This baby was black so it would have been hard to see it when Mister had it in his mouth.

Then to add insult to injury - he jumped up on the arm of my recliner, all proud of himself knowing that he had brought the best present EVER to the mom he adored.  But only after he'd rolled all over it to mark his territory and make it his own.

Oh. My. Heck.  You've not lived till you've had a 30 lb. furry paper weight that smells of rancid dead bunny rabbit and he's proudly rubbing all over you and the arm of the chair.

What a monster I've raised.  Tonight - a bit of a bath for the cat.  This should be fun.

I've got bandaids, 1st aid cream and towels close at hand. No, silly, not for Mister, but for me.

Sigh.

The Holidays Just “Flu” Right By Me

Note:  Yes, I know this is not a timely subject.  I'm running on Mormon Standard Time.  I've been trying to play catch-up since the holidays and not doing a very good job of it.  Heck.  I just now took down my Christmas decorations at work!  Better late than never?

I hate to admit it but the holiday season of 2012-2103 was pretty danged dismal.

The week before Christmas – felt a little puny.  But that’s nothing new.  I drive myself (and those around me) crazy with all the holiday traditions.  And end up getting sick.

But this year I did so much better – or so I thought.  Made little stops here and there picking up gift cards and/or goodies.  Didn’t spend too much –at least not as bad as in previous years.  Decided to do my last run to WM & Kohl’s the weekend before Christmas.  Heck! I even made plans to wrap presents vs. my just handing them their stuff in Target sacks (a cherished family tradition).  But it was not to be.

On the Friday before Christmas I went downhill faster than an Olympic skier (or, since this is Texas, faster than a kid on an ice block barreling down a steep hill).  At 8:00 AM I as fine.  9:30 – maybe a little sniffley.  11:20 – I was out the door, on my way home.  I knew I was sick when I passed on by WM and Kohl’s.  I didn’t care how much more shopping I had to do.  I was sick.

We were invited to my department party that evening.  Early in the day I told my manager that yes, indeedy, Jim & I would be there.  So our evening plans changed pretty fast, too.  No party.  No shopping.  No stopping for treats on the way home.  Just a straight shot to my driveway and then to my couch.

My usual holiday time, rundown, tired, not eating right sickness usually lasted only last two days at the longest.  But not this year.  Nope.  This just kept on and on and on.  I didn’t realize that I had the flu, until I heard all the news about the flu on the TV.  Oh - that explained it!

If had known I had the flu, I would have taken some precautions and not have exposed others.  I feel like I was Typhoid Mary.  And if I did infect anybody else?  I'm SO sorry. 

I did get Christmas together for everyone (quick trips to WM where I got to practice speed shopping).  And I did get presents wrapped (staying up to 2:00 AM on Christmas day).  I was existing on not-so-healthy food and ice chips.  Nothing cures the flu faster than a handful of Pepperidge Farms cookies and some ice chips.  I managed to get some warms soups down me – but I was much more satisfied with the ice. 

We did go through the temple when I was much better.  We got to go through with one of our Gdaughters – going on a mission to Rome in the spring.  Their parents were there.  The adopted parents were, too.  And several folks from her ward.  That was truly awesome.

But we didn’t do our usual movie run.  No one was in the mood or most were cash poor.  The Gkids had other things going on, too.  So all-in-all it was a much quieter Christmas than usual.  But Christmas this year will (hopefully) be much livelier.  We’ll all be well.  Won’t overspend (ha!).  Those that can be home will be.  And we will all share some time together in the true Spirit of the Season.  And remember the reason for the Season.

Better start my list! Because I'm going to have to check it more than twice!!!

Our Loss. Heaven's Gain.

A loss today in my extended family.

My BFF from my childbirthing era lost her husband this morning. She's a wonderful, brave woman who will weather this loss with grace, faith and dignity. She & her Beloved got to be married for only a year, but what a year it was. They lived their life together with humor, compassion, tears and love. And they had fun. Even knowing that their time together in this earthly sphere would be short, they enjoyed their marriage with gusto.

Kudos to their kids from both sides of the aisle that have come together to support each other.

This is a time for joy, not sorrow. We will celebrate that they had a great year of love, fun and laughter, jam making, good food, hugs, fishing and football. They were so blessed. They had more in one short year that some people ever have in their lifetime. And soon a much anticipated sealing for time and all eternity.  

Even their time was short, they lived life large.  You can't get much better than that.

I love this woman.  She's been such a good example to me and mine for years - and she continues to do so.  And I'm so grateful that she found someone to love.  And most importantly someone to love her, too.  She deserved and needed it.

Thank you, Mert, for loving and cherishing my friend.

Lynn, keep on dancin'.  He wouldn't want it any other way.

 

We're safe! For now at least . . .

We are being invaded by bunny wabbits! 

There are four or five of them that visit our little corner of the world on a daily basis.  They don’t belong to anybody on our street.  Their owners live a street over from us.  But the rabbits have figured out how to get out of their backyard, go through the yard behind their house and then over to our street where they have the run of the a two block area. Literally.

Neighbors put out fresh water for them.  Some have put out treats for them, too.  We all look after them.  And folks slow down to make sure that they don’t accidentally run over them.

Our safety is a main concern at this time so you’ll be glad to know that our cats Mister and Cleo are keeping us safe from this hoard of hares. 

Well, actually Cleo just ignores them.  If they’re not applicants for members of her staff then forget them.  They probably wouldn’t sit still long enough for them to do her any good. 

They don’t have opposable thumbs – so their getting food for her is out of the question. 

They can’t get to the tap to pour her fresh non-dog flavored water (she “shares” the water in the water bowl with the dogs only if she must).  And I bet they won’t figure out that they really need to go to the bathtub and fill her “special” cup for her and for her only.

They won’t lay still long enough for her to lay on them so that she can bathe herself (don’t ask). 

And I doubt if she’s up to playing a game of tag – that would only mess up her fur.  So – choke ‘em.  There’s a reason for the phrase “dumb bunny.” 

Mister looks at the rabbits with distaste as they hop around the yard.  We’ve watched him watching them.  His poor little mind just can’t figure out what those things are.  I swear he wrinkles his brow in concentration.  If they get close he gets this “deer caught in the headlight/panic” look on his face.  “Oh, no.  It’s going to eat me.  Get it away.  GET IT AWAY!!!”

It’s good to know now that we will never be able to rely on Mister to save us from anything. Advance warning is always a good thing.

Protect us from Invading aliens?  Nope. 

Zombies.  Are you kidding?  They’re dead people w/ flesh falling off of them.  And they smell funny. 

Ice cream men?  He runs the other way when he hears their carts coming at us. 

Small children going door to door trying to raise money for a school fund-raiser?  Well, maybe them because they’ll pet him.  They won’t get him food.  But if they shower him with adoration and affection – then they are (for that moment) a means to an end.

This cat has quite the following in the ‘hood.  He is gorgeous.  And he is huge. The mailman stops to pet him. Small children drag their grandparents behind them as they run up to lavish love on him.  These folks just fawn all over him.  And Mister takes it all in stride.  He puts on quite the show for his adoring audience.  Sheesh.  What a ham.

So – we can’t depend on him for any kind of security (I guess we need to take down the sign that says “Beware of attack cat”).  But we can still rely on him to be part of our 72 hour kit.  One bite at a time.

Meet Our Little Mrs. Sunshine AKA Moonbeam

One of the sweetest, dearest phone calls I’ve ever received:

Ring.

Me:  Hello?

Her:  Hello, Mother-in-law.

Me:  Hello, Daughter-in-law.

And I grin from ear-to-ear.

The newest member of our family is our sweet, sweet ClaireMarie. Well, she’s been a member of the family for a while but now it’s OFFICIAL (tah-duh-duh-dum!!!!).

She and our oldest got married out in Arizona.  Met with the State and/or County Authorities for paperwork to sign.  Then went to a botanical garden where they met up with a small number of friends . Words were said over them.  Vows shared.  And a kiss to seal the deal.

Unfortunately we didn’t get to attend but that’s okay.  There will be a huge party later.  We’ll all show up, ooh and ahh over them, meet new friends, hug old ones, eat, take pictures, eat some more.  And if we’re lucky – maybe we’ll get to dance. 

These two are certainly meant for each other.

She’s smart.

He is, too.

She’s beautiful.

He ain’t bad either.

She’s a tad shy.

He’s never met a stranger.

Her other persona is Doctor PhD) Clark .

He doesn’t have another persona.  What you see is what you get.

She’s (hopefully) finished with school.

He’s (hopefully) going to graduate in 3ish years.

She’s kinda grown up.

He’s working on it.

We couldn’t be happier – unless they lived closer to home.  But they’re working on that, too.

I’m so pleased that they met each other.  For years we’ve been praying that someone very special would come into his life.  To soften his heart.  To make him happy.  Laugh at his jokes.  Groan with appreciation at his puns.  Stand by his side.  Learn to love him.  Listen to his woes (and he’s had a few of those). And help guide him in the right direction.

She’s done that..

Our sweet girl is helping smooth away the rough edges.  Soften his heart.  Strengthen his soul. Appreciate his many good qualities.  And teach him how to love. 

All that and EVEN more.

They are blessed.  And they don’t even know how blessed they are.  But someday they will.  I think that they will come to that realization of all their blessings and how much love they have when they hit a rough spot, start to skid off the road of life but are able to right their direction – clinging to each other. And they’ll look at each other in amazement – “We did it!!!

As Jim & I grew into our marriage we hid many speed bumps.  But we were very lucky because we were able to get back on our path.  Stronger than ever.

Bring on the world.  My Sunshine and Moonbeam can handle it.  Together. With hearts in hand.  A smile on their faces. A prayer in their heart. Ready to meet and greet whatever comes their way.

Ta da!

All that and more . . .