Crane-ium

Christmas Cheer

2012-01-02T06:50:00.000-08:00

In lieu of yet another blog post, I decided to share a few photos that best capture how much fun we enjoyed this past Christmas season. All of our immediate family came to Bear Lake to celebrate the holidays and as you'll see, we had a great time. My brother and his wife and daughters joined us, as did my youngest sister, and her hubby. My mother (who lives in nearby Montpelier) loved seeing everyone, especially her two great-grandchildren.

We began our festivities by meeting up with some of Kennon's family in Pocatello for a fun feast on the 23rd of December. Then we journeyed to Preston, Idaho with our son, Devin, and his wife, Emily, to enjoy the traditional festival of lights.

The next day was Christmas Eve and some of our clan enjoyed another tradition: the annual Crane Trapshoot Adventure. (Shooting at clay pigeons, they determine who is the marksman/woman of the year.) Kris, Devin, and Emily had a blast, literally. ;)

That night we enjoyed our annual Christmas Eve Feast. We prepared a plethora of tasty finger foods, plus Kennon cooked up some lovely tenderloin steaks, and our sons steamed up shrimp to go with everything. Here my mother, Genevieve, and my daughter-in-law, Emily, are posing with some of our creations.

Since the next day was going to be a bit crazy (Kris had to leave early the next morning for work; the rest of us were planning on attending church in our ward, etc.) we opened most of our gifts that night. Here Kris is enjoying an entertaining family photo book that Snapfish helped me put together for everyone this year.

Devin is showing off one of his favorite gifts, a fancy new phone.

Kennon looks on as I unwrap the gift he surprised me with: tickets to the Trans-Siberian Orchestra concert in Salt Lake City on the 28th.

Derek and Kristen arrived with their cute offspring on Christmas Day. Here my granddaughter is posing with the adorable "Minion" hat her talented mother made.

Our grandson was also sporting a cute "Minion" hat. He took great delight in yanking it off in time to pose with his parents.

We enjoyed a lovely Christmas Dinner, and then visited, played a variety of games, and watched a few fun movies. The next day, it was time to play in the snow. Here my nieces are posing with my granddaughter before playing in the white fluffy stuff.

These girls had a great time riding the four-wheeler and hanging on for dear life in the attached sled.

Round two of the annual trap shoot. Kris drove back down for a couple of days, and he, Derek, and my brother, Tom, had a wonderful time blowing up clay pigeons. Later on, they would network between 3 computers and play an old school game, "Myth." A good time was had by all.

Here I am, sporting my new Christmas Apron, a gift from a good friend. It came in handy as I continued to prepare delightful cuisine for everyone.

In this shot, my sister, Trudi, is posing with her new camera.

The next afternoon, Kennon and I left Hotel Crane in the care of our offspring, and headed to SLC for the concert. That night we toured Temple Square and enjoyed the beautiful lights.

On the morning of the 28th, we enjoyed seeing several of the sights of SLC. Among other things, we journeyed up to explore "This Is the Place" monument, and visitors' center.

We even made it out to the Tracy Aviary Park, which neither of us had ever seen before. It was a lot of fun, but things were turning off cold by then.

I think even the birds were a little bit chilled that day.

We had tickets for the afternoon concert, so we headed to the Energy Solutions Arena shortly after eating lunch. It was a pleasant surprise to run into a couple of my cousins who happened to receive tickets to this same concert from their kids. Their seats were one row ahead of us. Quite the coincidence. We all had great seats and loved the show.

It was an awesome concert, something Kennon and I thoroughly enjoyed. If you ever get the chance, it's well worth seeing this band perform.

The holiday fun wasn't over yet. We enjoyed hanging out with some of Kennon's family at their condo over by Bear Lake on New Year's Eve. The next day, we savored New Year's dinner with my mother, and our son, Derek, our daughter-in-law, Kristen, and our wonderful grandchildren who were on their way home after spending a few days in Wyoming with Kristen's family.

Despite a silly camera battery snafu, we were able to recapture one of our 4-generation shots that was lost on Christmas Day. (Yes, I'm still pouting over that one. Grumble . . . grumble . . . complain some more.) We'll have to retake the one of Kennon's mother posing with Derek and his children. (Verdene had come down to join in the fun the day after Christmas.)

I think everyone had a great time. I apologize that not everyone's pictures made it into this post. My silly camera had issues during the holiday week and not all of the shots taken turned out, or even survived. (See grumble, grumble, complain some more comment above.) It was great seeing everyone, and to me, that's what the holidays are all about: spending time with loved ones.

Happy New Year!

Why I Never Took Part in Another School Christmas Pageant

2011-12-12T09:31:00.001-08:00

This time of year has always been one of my favorites. As a child, (and an adult) I thoroughly enjoyed decorating the house, making Christmas cookies, and singing Christmas carols.Taking part in Christmas productions at school was another highlight that filled my heart with Christmas cheer.

One year while I was in elementary school, I was asked to portray the part of Mary in the school play. This could've been because I was one of the few girls my age who still had long, dark hair, (Pixie cuts were all the rage that year) but I also suspect the fact that my aunt happened to be my teacher had a lot more to do with it. ;) Regardless, I was thrilled and during rehearsals, I strived to live up to the expectations of this starring role.

The day of the much anticipated performance finally came. The night before I had been so excited, I could hardly sleep. When I woke up, I experienced waves of nausea, and was terribly unamused. This couldn't be happening. I was supposed to be Mary that day!

I quickly dressed and hurried into the kitchen. Then I sat down on a chair to keep from collapsing onto the floor. By then I knew I had caught a vicious stomach bug that had been going around the school for a couple of weeks. The thought made me sicker than I already was. People were depending on me--I had a starring role. I had looked forward to this event for weeks and I wasn't about to let my uncooperative body ruin things for me.

Somehow I made it through breakfast--with the help of our family dog. I slipped her most of what was on my plate that morning. My mother had been so busy getting everyone else ready for the day that she hadn't noticed I was tilting sideways. It wasn't until she was helping me fix my hair for the play that she caught on that I was a bit pale. She asked if I was feeling all right and I assured her I was fine. She then counseled me to quit being so nervous, assuming that was the cause of the slightly green tint, and she continued helping me get ready.

I'm amazed I survived the bus ride to school. Plagued by a tendency to develop motion sickness under normal circumstances, the added nausea from the stomach bug was almost more than I could bear, but I was so determined to be the best Mary this school had ever seen, I gritted my teeth and forced my body to behave.

I arrived at the school, and hurried into the girls restroom where I splashed cold water on my face to ease the queasiness. Then I went into the classroom and laid my head down on my desk to make the world quit spinning.

Now I realize I shouldn't have attempted taking part in the school production that day--but in my seven-year-old mind, this was the most important thing that had ever come into my life. I had been picked to portray Mary, the mother of Jesus. It seemed like my entire world was centered on successfully seeing this part through to the finish.

The rest of that morning is pretty much a blur. I do remember my aunt asking if I was feeling all right, and I gave her the same answer I had shared with my mother earlier: "I'm fine." Then I forced a weak smile, hoping it looked convincing.

During lunch hour, I nibbled on a piece of bread, then when the lunch lady wasn't looking, I gave away most of the food on my tray to my friends, and threw the rest into the garbarge. My friends assumed I was experiencing a form of stage fright, and were only too happy to consume the special treats that had been prepared for us that day.

It was finally time for the production. All of our parents (mostly our mothers since our dads were still at work) arrived to cheer us on. I quickly dressed in the traditional Mary costume, experiencing a mixture of excitement, extreme nausea, and a bit of nervousness. This was the biggest part I had ever been assigned in a school production and I was determined to give it everything I had.

My mother sneaked in to where I was getting ready to make sure I was doing okay. She again commented on how pale I was and asked me a final time if I was all right. Assuring her that I was, I picked up the doll that would be playing the part of Jesus that day, and we hurried back into the room where everyone else had gathered.

The play progressed nicely that afternoon. All went well until it was time for me lay the baby Jesus into the small manger. Then disaster struck. The nausea I had been doing my best to ignore would no longer be denied. When I realized my body was taking the driver's seat, I dropped the doll into the manger, and ran off the small stage, but didn't quite make it out of the room in time.

Mortified by the mess I had made . . . of everything . . . I ran into the girls' restroom to hide. My mother followed, and graciously helped me clean up. My aunt took care of the new carpet I had all but ruined in the other room. I heard later from some of my friends that she had not been amused by my performance, and was upset by the condition of the new carpet. (It was a brand new school we had moved into that fall. I have the honor of being the first kid who stained some of the new carpet.)

Later when I was lying in the comfort of my bed at home, I pulled a pillow over my face and cried, convinced I had ruined Christmas for everyone. I had shamed my family in a public fashion, desecrated the role of Mary, and ticked off my aunt. My life was in ruins . . . or so I thought.

My family rallied around me, my parents and younger siblings (I was the oldest in our clan) offering sympathy and love despite my less than stellar performance. My brother even commented on how cool it was that I had barfed in front of everyone. Boys always see things differently, even at that young age.

By Christmas Eve, I was feeling better, and my mother asked me to play the part of Mary in our own family production of the traditional Christmas Story. Donning a different costume (the other one was understandably thrown away) I gravely did my best to portray the mother of our Savior. With my brother playing the part of Joseph, our younger sister representing the shepherds, and our baby sister taking the part of the infant Jesus, we solemnly acted out the miraculous birth of our Elder Brother. My dad read from the book of Luke, and our mother furnished the piano accompaniment for songs like "The First Noel," "Silent Night," and "O, Little Town of Bethlehem." The only one in the audience that night was our chihuahua, Teeny, but she seemed very impressed by our performance.

I've never forgotten the sacred feeling I experienced that night. Though my life was in shambles, I still felt the love of our Savior during that Christmas season. And by the time I returned to school to start the new year, everyone had moved past my unfortunate performance . . . with the exception of my aunt who still had a pained look whenever she glanced my direction . . . and a young boy my age who was as impressed by my eruption as my brother. He later asked me to be his girlfriend. ;)

I learned some great lessons from that experience--the importance of never pushing one's body past the point of no return, boys are weird, and the love of our Savior is very real. May we all reflect upon His great love for us, and share it with others this holiday season. MERRY CHRISTMAS!

An Exciting New Way to Read Books Online

2011-11-28T13:40:00.001-08:00

A few weeks ago I was contacted about an exciting new website, something called, Big World Network. This online reading service is provided at no cost. Anyone interested can read or listen to books that will be posted as a weekly series. Each week another episode or chapter from the book of your choice will be featured. This is similar to how popular series are followed on television, but in book form.

Books are rated based on content, which is a handy way to know if a certain book is one you would be interested in reading, or listening to, compliments of the audio form that is also available. Currently, fifteen books are listed for perusal. E-mail subscriptions are also being offered, which is a handy way to be notified when the next installment of the book you've selected is available. This way you will have immediate access when the next chapter or episode is released.

For writers, this is another way to expose your newest work to online readers, increasing the readership for your books. Submissions can be sent to this website for possible inclusion on their website.

I think this is a great way for new writers and established writers alike to secure online exposure, and an exciting new twist to online reading. Be sure to check out the website on this link: Click here and see what you think about this new online venue.

Book Review: "Bitter Blessings"

2011-11-22T05:18:00.001-08:00

The clock in the kitchen pounded out the seconds, and the neighbor's wind chimes clanged their chaotic melody until I thought my brain would explode, and then, finally, Gram said, "There was an accident on the highway this afternoon. Your mother was in it." And the world collapsed around me
. . . again.

This except from the new book, Bitter Blessings, caught my attention immediately. Found on the back cover, it left me feeling intrigued and despite my busy schedule the day this book arrived, I found time to read the first couple of chapters. Then the storyline managed to nag at me continuously until I finished the rest of the book.

Filled with twists and turns, this first time novel by Christine Mehring, provokes empathy and deep-seated emotions. Your heart will go out to the main characters who appear very real. I suspect we all know people who resemble the grandmother, and the three sisters. Their neighbor and friend, Adam, is the sort of kid we all long to meet: down-to-earth and helpful without being pushy.

This book appealed to me on many levels: as a young adult, my entire world was turned upside down by the actions of a family member. (My father died in a tragic manner when I was 22.) I related so much to what these three siblings were enduring with the loss of another parent. I understood how difficult it is to sort through the emotions that at times, tear you apart. Each sister grieved in a different way as they tried to make sense of a trial that made no sense at all. And on top of everything else, a mystery regarding their father, someone they thought was deceased, is thrown into the mix.

If you are looking for a good read, a novel that will keep you turning pages, then this is a book you will want to snatch up and savor. It's one I plan to reread in the near future--and that should tell you something. (I don't often read the same book twice unless it really impresses me.)

Bitter Blessings will appeal to all ages, with an emphasis toward the youth. I think it's good for young people to read books that focus on the challenges that sometimes go with life. Not only will this novel inspire gratitude for their own home situations, but for those who are enduring similar trials, it can touch tender hearts in a good and positive way with messages like the importance of forgiveness when bad choices are made, and perseverance when heartache descends.

You can purchase Bitter Blessings by clicking on this link: CLICK ON ME

Walking the Tightrope of Diabetes

2011-11-14T07:40:00.001-08:00

Lately I've been trying to get all of my proverbial ducks in a row, with regard to health. I am a Type 1 diabetic--a challenging condition I've endured for 31 years. Some would say that I've beaten the odds to live this long with diabetes and not have any major complications. To them I would have to say: "Attitude is everything!" ;)

I do not have perfect control of my blood sugar levels--the closest I ever came to that goal was during three pregnancies that produced three healthy sons. During that era, I kept a food diary, recording everything I ate, what time I ate, how much insulin I gave, how much I exercised, and what all of the food counts were. In short, I gave each pregnancy full attention and did amazingly well, all things considered.

Most days I simply do the best that I can. I try to balance carb counts with insulin and mix in exercise to counter fluctuating levels. The challenge for most of us who deal with this disease is the fact that everything affects our blood sugar levels. If I have a cold, my level runs rock bottom low, no matter what I do. If I have the stomach flu--that level runs high, even though I can't usually eat anything. If I'm in severe pain, the level runs low. If I have inflammation anywhere, it runs high. During the summer months, my levels run lower because of the heat. And as you might guess, during the winter months, those levels soar, so on and so forth. I was also told that there will days when "insulin bubbles" (Insulin the body stores for some strange unknown reason) can randomly burst, causing an insulin reaction from hades without warning.In short: this is a challenging disease and there are days when you feel like throwing your hands in the air and walking away.

For numerous years, I ran a diabetic support group for the diabetics in our county. I did this with the help of a very good friend who was also a Type 1 diabetic like me. The support group was actually Denise's idea. Once we both started seeing the same specialist who gave us "HOPE" for a brighter future--more so than we had ever received from any other doctor, she wanted us to share that positive message with other diabetics who were also struggling.

We met during monthly meetings at the nearby city hall, and later in a special room at the local hospital. We provided special inservice meetings with doctors, nurses, etc. We ran booths at the two health fairs held annually in our community, and met with newly diagnosed diabetics to help them realize they could live a full and productive life despite this illness.

You can imagine how Denise's death earlier this year affected us all. (She was 49) I've heard from a few of the younger Type 1's that we tried to help. Some are in panic mode. "But you two said we could live a long, normal life!" Etc. & so forth. After Denise's death, my blood pressure soared for a time, something it has never done before. (My blood pressure has always been good: most days it clocks in at 110 over 70.) And I've experienced a couple of other health glitches that have made me realize I need to slow down . . . a lot . . . at least for now.

Dealing with Type 1 diabetes is like walking a tightrope. One slip can mean a painful consequence, and unfortunately, complications, and sometimes death. We keep trying to move ahead on that thin wire, knowing that each step we make is crucial. Our balancing tools include: checking our blood sugar level often, counting carbs, and working in a bit of exercise. We all try to do the best that we can, and not allow ourselves to get overwhelmed in the process.

I've found that regardless of the challenge, attitude is everything, as stated above. Stress of any kind causes my blood sugar level to run high. So I have to keep stress to a minimum. Maintaining a positive outlook aids this process greatly. And I've started something new the past couple of months--I meditate each morning for about ten minutes. My version of meditation probably varies from the world's, but it works for me. I spend ten minutes listening to soothing music (usually "Calm-Meditation" from Pandora) and watch a computerized slideshow of nature shots that I've taken through the years with my trusty camera. I focus on my breathing and attempt to relax my entire body. I can't believe how much better I feel each day. The best news: my blood pressure level has returned to normal. My blood work was in the normal range last month. Now I have to tackle getting my blood sugar levels back under better control.

I am determined to continue walking this tightrope called diabetes. =D It's rather lonely, carrying that baton by myself now (someday Denise and I will talk about how she bailed on me in an untimely manner) but I have to think that it was simply her time to leave this mortal sphere. We've both endured too many near misses in the past to ever think otherwise.

My new goal: To live another 30 years with this challenging condition--thus proving to our younger Type 1's that this can be done. For a while, I may be cutting out other things to bring my life into better focus. (My entire family has been trying to teach me a handy two-letter word for years, something I'm finally starting to use.) I'm no longer trying to be "Wonder Woman," as I simply strive to be "Tight-Rope Girl." And in the end, perhaps the two titles will combine as I work harder than ever to stifle the effects of this disease.

Happy Halloween & Make Room for Thanksgiving!

2011-10-31T07:49:00.001-07:00

Cool, I get to blog on yet another holiday. Halloween has always been one of my favorites. As a child, it meant getting to wear a fun costume, and going trick-or-treating--I.E. getting that important yearly stash of candy. ;) It also meant the beginning of the holiday season. Even as a child, I understood that once Halloween had come and gone, the traditional turkey day, Thanksgiving, was just around the corner, and then the all-important event, Christmas!!! It was indeed a fun time of year.

As an adult, I can truthfully say that I still enjoy this time of year. Fall has always been one of my favorite seasons. It's not too hot (especially when it snows early on) and the trees are gorgeous in the nearby canyons. Plus as the holidays approach, one by one, I get to decorate for each occasion, and fix fun food.

My oldest son came home over the weekend and he was pleased to see that despite the craziness of my life at the moment, I had still managed to decorate the house for Halloween. True, my decorations possibly fall into the "sappy" category (I tend to go for humor and light-hearted fun, not the morbid stuff that is also available for Halloween decor) but that's how I like it.

Tomorrow, I'll take down the Halloween decorations, and put up all of my Thanksgiving ornamentation. Thanksgiving is also an important family holiday for our clan, since some of our ancestors were there for that famed first gathering between the Pilgrims and Native Americans. (We actually have ancestors from both sides of the table.)

I only have one complaint this time of year---have you noticed how Thanksgiving gets crowded out of things these days? In the stores you can see that it's already going from Halloween to Christmas. It makes me want to drag out my little blue stool I use to work on the garden, stand upon it, and protest--"WHAT ABOUT THANKSGIVING?!!!" I was raised with an understanding that this time of year, following the harvest, etc. it's important to offer gratitude for the blessings in our lives. Thanksgiving in our clan has always been of greater importance than Halloween, and almost as wonderful as Christmas.

True, during these stressful times, when most families are being hit with so many challenges, it can be difficult, coming up with a list of items to be grateful for, but I believe that an attitude of gratitude is crucial to survive the days ahead. I suspect during that first Thanksgiving, hearts were fairly tender. My 11th great-grandmother (Elizabeth Tilley) was no doubt still grieving over the loss of her parents after that first, disastrous winter in the new Pilgrim colony. Her mother perished in 1620, and her father passed away a couple of months later during the January of 1621. I'm sure it was a difficult thing for fourteen-year-old newly orphaned Elizabeth to sit down to a small feast that celebrated life and harvest during the fall of 1621, and yet, she did. She later married another Pilgrim survivor, John Howland, and together they raised a large family that included my 10th great-great grandmother, Hope Howland. I'm sure this young lady was aptly named. ;)

So as Halloween activities wind down after tonight, let's all take a moment to consider the blessings in our lives. Make room between Halloween and Christmas for Thanksgiving. Today's wordly wisdom would have us skip over this important celebration of gratitude. Perhaps if more of us protested this trend, our nation would notice that Thanksgiving is much more than another chance to feast. It is a time of year when we need to extend our gratitude to the One who makes everything possible in our lives.

Hope Smiling Brightly

2011-10-15T06:50:00.001-07:00

It would be an understatement to say that life is crazy right now, filled with challenges and heartaches for so many people. Everywhere I look I see neighbors, friends, and family members bravely facing uphill battles as they strive to continue forward on their journey through life.

The trials faced vary: scary health conditions, financial worries, the loss of loved ones, family distress, and in some instances, overwhelming schedules that seem impossible to maintain. The adversary is also pulling out all of the stops to destroy self-esteem, marriages, and families. We are truly living in the latter-days and the war for souls is raging all around us in an intense manner that can fill the bravest hearts with fear and despair.

These days I'm often reminded of a scene from one of my favorite books, "The Return of the King," by J.R.R. Tolkien. Towards the end of the story, all seems lost. Death and mayhem are taking place everywhere as the battle between good and evil rages. As the fight continues, it becomes apparent that the forces for good are dwindling, and yet the survivors cling to the hope that they will triumph, despite overwhelming odds. The way is being paved for the return of the king, who will restore all that has been lost. Keeping that goal in mind, one by one, the main characters of this book push on, refusing to give up, despite the wounds sustained.

One brave small hobbit named Frodo feels as if he holds the fate of the world in his tiny hands. He risks everything that he is to push forward toward a goal that terrifies him, and yet, he knows that is the only way to banish the evil foe that threatens all he holds dear. It takes everything he can do to press on, and he reaches a point where he feels as though he can't take one more step. That is when his trusted friend, Sam, practically carries him up that final mountain. There Frodo battles with himself and finally achieves his goal, his courageous stance halting the adversary in his tracks.

It is my belief that we are all doing our best to climb the terrifying mountains that lie before us. We are not making that climb alone. Loved ones from the other side of the veil are cheering us on, every step of the way. When we stumble, neighbors, friends, and family members walk at our side, helping us to continue on. And when it all becomes too much, we are carried by the One who walked that pathway before us.

The other day as I silently grieved for all that a dear friend is currently facing, the following lyrics popped into my head:

When dark clouds of trouble hang o'er us, and threaten our peace to destroy,
There is hope smiling brightly before us, and we know that deliverance is nigh--

It took me a few minutes to figure out which hymn those inspired words came from. These lyrics are from the second verse of hymn # 19, "We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet." The inspired message of that sacred hymn brought a ray of hope into my life, filling my heart with a sense of comforting peace.

It is true: we are led by a prophet of God. If we will heed his counsel, we will not fail. Though our challenges today seem overpowering, we can continue forward with hope in our hearts. We were all saved for this current day for a reason. Our Father knew we possessed the talents, courage, and fortitude that would be necessary to succeed. Step by step, we will triumph, even when the battle rages all around. Through hope, faith, and charity, we will place the armor of God upon us, courageously facing the challenges that come into our lives during this mortal journey. Bear in mind we are paving the way for the return of our King, when all will be restored, and sorrowing tears will be dried. Until that day comes, look for the good. Do those things that will inspire peace of heart and mind, knowing our focus shouldn't rest upon the many wounds we've sustained along the way--how well we embraced hope when all seemed lost is what will matter most.

A Temple in Star Valley, Wyoming!

2011-10-03T07:41:00.001-07:00

I think I'm still in shock over the announcement that was made during the Saturday morning LDS Conference session. I was listening closely to President Monson as my husband and I were traveling to spend the weekend with loved ones in Utah. I smiled over each new temple site that was mentioned. In my opinion, our prophet saved the best news for last: a temple is to be built in Star Valley, Wyoming!!!

Star Valley has been like a second home for me since childhood. My mother grew up in Star Valley, which is only about 45 miles away from my current home. I spent many summers staying with my grandparents in this magical place. My mother has often commented through the years that returning to Star Valley is like recharging one's internal batteries. I totally agree. This beautiful area is such a peaceful place, surrounded by forest laden mountains, beautiful lakes and streams, and filled with down-to-earth people who work hard and play hard.

When I heard the news, I called my mother, who was doing the dance of joy in her living room. She had been listening to this same conference session and was so excited. She had never envisioned an LDS Temple in her former stomping grounds. She can hardly wait to attend the future dedication for this soon-to-be wonder.

Very soon after I talked to my mother about this news, I called my daughter-in -law, who also happens to hail from Star Valley. She was just as excited as my mother and I were over this announcement. She had just talked to her mother, who still lives in the area and told me that her mother was so happy she was crying over the news.

The closest temple to the Star Valley region lies in Idaho Falls, Idaho. That is where all of the temple ordinances have taken place for my mother's side of the family tree. To know that one will now be built in the Star Valley region is a dream come true, and the first temple to be built in the wonderful state of Wyoming!

Star Valley is part of the 7 stake region in our current neck of the woods. So for my husband and I, having a temple in Star Valley will be a wonderful thing. The closest temple for us lies in Logan, Utah, which is approximately 70 miles away. As I mentioned earlier, this new temple will be about 45 miles away, cutting the distance traveled by those in our area.

I will probably be doing the dance of joy started by my mother for quite some time. It still doesn't seem real, and probably won't until we see the spires of this future edifice. =) What a wonderful time we live in, despite all of the challenges! These new temples that are being built will affect many lives for the better. Numerous blessings will take place as a result of these inspired decisions--truly a sign that we are loved and watched over in more ways than any of us can imagine!

The Woman Who Lived

2011-09-23T08:08:00.000-07:00

(Not that I have much in common with Harry Potter, but we've both survived some interesting things.) I've heard that certain adventures come in threes. In our neck of the woods, this is not always a good thing. ;) But in this particular instance, perhaps it is. In less than 3 months, I've survived 3 separate adventures that could have been life-threatening. Last night was the third such incident.

I won't bore you with many details of the first two brushes with death. The first one involved a 4-wheeler roll-over, if that gives you any idea. ;) I was truly watched over that day: my worst injury was a severely bruised hip that was also knocked out of place. Once it was prodded back into alignment, life was much better, although it still lets me know from time to time that getting wedged between a tree and a rolling 4-wheeler is not a very cool thing to do.

The second incident took place after a busy day of running about. I had experienced 4-5 insulin reactions in a row (I'm a type 1 diabetic) and evidently my body was once again not amused. I can usually push through to accomplish what I need to do, even on days when I feel less than wonderful. On this day, my body pushed back . . . and scared me into realizing I need to slow down . . . a lot.

Then last night happened . . . and the fact that I'm sitting here typing this blog is evidence that we don't leave this mortal sphere until it's our time to go. Just sayin' . . .

So there I was, minding my business, watching the nine o'clock news. Suddenly it dawned on me that I needed to unhook the hose from a faucet in the front yard. Earlier, my husband (who was working a midnight shift that night) and I had agreed to take some safety measures to keep the faucets from being ruined by frost, since the temperature was supposed to reach around 27 degrees that night. When the news was over, I walked into the utility room to slip on some shoes to take care of this task.

I thought about going out through the garage, which would have saved me from what happened next, but decided it would be simpler to return to the living room and exit out the front door. I reasoned that all of our pets were safely tucked into bed in the garage and I would just disturb them if I took that route. Opening the front door, I quickly shut it behind me to prevent the moths from zooming inside. The porch light was still on, and they were doing their nightly frantic dance of trying to perish in the fire.

It wasn't until after the door was shut that it dawned on me that I had just locked myself out of the house. Our door handle is the type that allows you to exit, even when it's locked. Shrugging this off as a minor inconvenience, I figured I could find another way back in, and I unhooked the hose from the faucet. Then I jiggled the front door, and found that it was indeed locked. I tried the front walk-in door to the garage next, and it was locked, too. I fiddled with both garage doors, but they were both sealed tight.

Walking around to the back yard, I was still refusing to panic. Surely I could enter from the back door to the garage, and if it was already locked, I could access the extra key we keep outside. Au contraire. The back door was indeed locked tight, and the key that was supposed to be in its usual place outside, was hanging inside the house. I had used it two days earlier to enter the house and had forgotten to replace it. Strike two.

My next thought was that I could open the French doors that lead into the dining room, but when I tried that option, I discovered I had been quite adept at locking things up for the night. All of the windows were shut, and all of the doors were locked, and this is when it dawned on me how serious my situation was.

Now, normally, we keep our camper locked, but luckily for me, as it turned out, it (unlike everything else) was unlocked. We had been unloading stuff from it all week from our recent camping adventure in Yellowstone Park, and hadn't bothered to lock it up. I climbed inside the camper and found a handy flashlight. Taking it with me, I retried all of the doors to the house. By then it was about 10:20 p.m. I glanced hopefully at our next door neighbors' abode, but couldn't tell if there were any lights on. I walked over, silently praying that someone would be up still, but when I arrived, I could see that all of the lights were out inside the house. Most uncool. I knew they had already gone to bed, since my neighbor's husband had to be up around 4:30 a.m to go to work. I glanced down the street and saw that another neighbor's house was also cloaked in darkness, and wondered what was up with everyone going to bed on time for once.

Here was my dilemma: not only was it cold and I was not wearing a jacket or coat since my little chore was only supposed to take a couple of minutes, but I had also given myself a hefty bolus of insulin around 9:30 p.m. For some reason my blood sugar level had been rather high the last time I had checked, and so I had given about 4 units of insulin to bring it down into the normal range. I had figured that I would eat a snack before bed and all would be well. Now all of the circumstances had changed and I knew I was in trouble. The only thing I had access to eat outside were the sour apples from our tree in the front yard (and they are really sour this year) and I wasn't sure they would provide enough carbs if my blood sugar plummeted. Some of my worst reactions take place in the middle of the night--so you can understand my concern, especially after what I'd endured about 3 weeks ago.

I weighed my options and decided I would continue trying to break into my house, since everything I needed was inside. I knew if I had to, I could sleep inside the camper--it had a furnace and I knew how to turn it on and set it to a comfortable range. The bedding we had used while in Yellowstone was all still in place, but the camper had been stripped of all food sources, and that was the major concern.

I spent a good 40 minutes or so trying to get in through the French doors. I figured that was my best bet, since it would be easy to enter the house from that location. Reluctant to break the glass, I tried to jimmy the door handle. I knew we could easily replace it, but I was unable to find our crowbar. It would amuse you to see the assortment of tools I dragged out of the shed to try damaging the door handle--everything from a wrench, to a large set of pruning sheers, to a heavy maul, which was my last resort if I couldn't open the door through breaking the handle. I knew it was heavy enough to break the glass if needed.

The stupid handle wouldn't budge. I discovered that my house is much like a fortress when everything is locked up tight. This means I'm much safer than I ever assumed when here alone at night, but I digress. ;) I moved down to the room we're turning into a kid's guest room and saw that a piece of the curtain was caught in the window. This gave me false hope, as I assumed that I could somehow open the window and climb inside. I quickly removed the screen from this window, then had to retreat to the camper to find a butter knife---the window wouldn't budge. It was locked up as tight as Fort Knox, and even with the butter knife . . . which busted in half I might mention, I wasn't able to get that window to move at all.

I tried one of the side windows to the front room bay window, but after removing its screen, I saw that it was locked up tight, too, and wouldn't budge. I had thought if I could open it, I could slip at least a hand inside and try to unlock the front door. It didn't dawn on me until this morning that my arms weren't long enough, nor are they made of rubber. It would've taken a talented contortionist to reach that door handle.

Many prayers had been offered silently throughout this adventure, and I'm sorry to say that I began losing hope. It was growing colder; by then it was almost midnight and I was still unable to remedy my situation. I knew that any of my neighbors would've been happy to help, but I was reluctant to bother them, unless I had no choice. So I walked around my house, praying once again for guidance and help. Then I saw it--the kitchen window wasn't latched like all of the other windows.

I am not a tall person. In stocking feet I stand at 5'2". I had been using a decrepit sawhorse to reach the other windows to our house, and I had already fallen off once already, scraping up one leg. I was hesitant to climb on the sawhorse again, but there was no other choice; all of our ladders were nestled in the safety of the garage.

So I dragged the saw horse over by the smaller kitchen window (naturally it was smaller than all of our other windows) and climbed carefully onto the crumbling wood, hoping it would sustain me. I was quite aware that if I fell and broke something, it would only make matters worse. Once again, I popped a screen out of the window. Then I used a second butter knife retrieved from the camper to pry the window open. I was so elated when it finally pushed open, I nearly cheered for joy. Then I realized that while I had been able to reach up enough to open the window, I was not high enough to even think about trying to climb in through that window, nor was I certain that I would fit through that small opening.

As I stood on top of the sawhorse, filled with dismay, it was like someone whispered inside my head: "Think. Now you can access something you need." I looked again through the open window and saw that a partial loaf of freshly made banana bread was lying on a nearby counter, wrapped in a plastic bag. I carefully removed the curtains that were hanging in the window, and used the curtain rod to drag the banana bread to where I could reach it. I felt an immediate sense of peace and knew that my prayers had indeed been heard. Now I had something I could use if my blood sugar dropped.

I made two more trips to that window to retrieve water (a small pitcher was still located in the camper. This proved to be very useful, since we had already drained all of the water out of the camper) and some medication that I needed that happened to be sitting on the window sill.

I spent what remained of the night in the camper. I made use of most of the bedding to stay warm, and turned on the camper furnace, hoping the propane wouldn't run out before morning arrived.

It wasn't the most restful night I've ever had, but I stayed warm, I had access to something that would help if my blood sugar tanked, and I was safe. I had survived a perilous situation that in my case, could've been life-threatening. If I had fallen off that sawhorse and broken something, no one would've known I was in trouble. My cell phone was inside the house, resting on the comfortable couch, along with my glucose monitor.

I learned a lot from last night's adventure: always check the door handle before exiting the house; keep the spare key outside where it belongs; listen to promptings; & trust in God. Prayers are indeed answered, but not often in the way we envision. I had believed all along that I would find a way inside my house last night. It was with great reluctance that I gave in to the plan that actually saved my life. A way was provided, and that prayer for help was answered, proof once again that during our most critical moments, we are never alone.

Before I went to sleep, huddled inside the camper, I wondered if any of my pioneer ancestors had been watching my attempts at survival. I smiled, certain that some of them were blaming each other for my obvious lack of intelligence, since what happened was once again my fault. ;) But there was also a sense that just maybe, some of them were proud of my efforts to survive, a trait I'm sure they passed down through the generations. I am certain that some of their determination exists in many of their posterity, and that is what will get us all through these crazy latter days, when we don't know from one day to the next what challenges life will bring our way.

Book Review: The Latter Rain

2011-09-08T08:21:00.000-07:00

I was recently asked to review an exciting new book called, "The Latter Rain," written by James M. Conis. When I was approached about doing a review of this book, I was thrilled. I appreciate symbolism in books, and will confess I'm an armchair scripturist. (It's a word. I looked it up. It means: One who is strongly attached . . . to the scriptures. Click on this link to see more: scripturist.) I've often longed to comprehend the writings of Isaiah--so to have access to a great reference tool like this is wonderful.

As I've read through "The Latter Rain," I've been so impressed by the interpretations made by James Conis. In an easy-to-read format, he breaks down scriptures from Isaiah and other books of scripture (Like Daniel, Ezekiel, etc.) and points to a pattern that truly does help the reader understand important concepts. He uses the imagery of rain throughout the book, pointing to the numerous scripture references that indicate the gospel of Jesus Christ is like a refreshing rain. He shows that whenever gospel truths are shunned, a famine of epic proportions takes place, and the scriptural imagery of drought is emphasized.

Drawing on scriptural metaphors, Conis makes quite a case in support of LDS doctrine. He never refers to the LDS Church, but everything points that direction. For anyone who is LDS, they will recognize the interpretations that indicate a need for a restoration of the full gospel of Jesus Christ. For others, it will be a unique way of learning why there is such a need for "Latter Rain," or a flooding into today's parched world of important gospel truths.

This book has been a huge influence on how I look at the scriptures. Several years ago, I formed the habit of reading the scriptures before retiring for the night. Two nights ago I stumbled upon a scripture reference regarding other worlds. When I looked at the cross references, a scripture from Job was mentioned. I eagerly turned to it, and it gave me a reference to Isaiah regarding this same doctrine. I read that entire chapter of Isaiah, and found another scripture that alludes to other worlds. Scripture passages that might not have popped out at me in a clear manner, were making sense. From Conis' book, I have learned to delve deeper into the symbolism Isaiah, and other books of scripture contain.

I would have to say that this book, "The Latter Rain," is possibly one of the most important books that I've ever reviewed. As I've been putting this blog post together, an analogy has come to mind with regard to this handy reference tool: it's like a light being flipped on in a darkened room. This is a book for anyone who is serious about studying the scriptures and recognizing important insights. In the author's own words, taken from page 304:

"The purpose of this book has been to establish truth using the symbols and types derived from an analysis of the Book of Isaiah. We used Isaiah's writings to elucidate truth and derive knowledge from the other books of the Holy Bible."

Some of you may be wondering what makes James M. Conis such an expert. On the page that shares about the author it reveals:

Mr. Conis' interest in the scriptures began when he took a course on the New Testament at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. The main lecturer for the course was an orthodox Jewish professor, while the recitation sections for the class were taught by lecturers from Christian faiths. The resulting dynamic of this course created deep philosophical questions concerning the doctrines and truths found in the Bible and those espoused by modern-day religion. This led to a life-long quest on the part of Mr. Conis to understand the true meaning intended by the ancient prophets.

I would have to say that Mr. Conis has indeed done his homework with regard to the writings of Isaiah. The symbols he interprets ring true. The best part--throughout the book, he encourages the reader to pray about the truths learned, to discover on an individual basis whether this doctrine is valid.

You can purchase this book by using this link: BUY THIS BOOK And here is a fun link to the author's website regarding this book: BUY THIS BOOK USING THIS LINK. If you read his blog and use the online coupon code TOUR when you check out, using the links available on that blog, you will receive 20 % off the original price.

Two New & Exciting Books

2011-08-26T06:50:00.000-07:00

Today I'm pleased to introduce two new books that I was recently given a chance to review. The first one touches on a popular four-letter word: DIET. Yes, you heard right, I said the dreaded, "D" word. It's something I've lived with for a long time as a Type 1 diabetic. For years I've tried very hard to count carbs and behave with regard to food consumption. I've clung to the belief that sticking to a 45 carb per meal approach is the way to go and I have avoided all of the fad diets that numerous family members and friends have touted. None of them have ever appealed to me or seemed like a healthy alternative. I've never been impressed with any of them . . . until now. I'm happy to say that the book, "All Diets Work: that's the problem," is a wonderful approach to the age old problem of losing weight in a healthy fashion.

Written by Jen Brewer, an inspired dietician, "All Diets Work," offers 25 tools to help us lose weight in a manner our bodies will like. I love Jen's proposal: "Stop dieting . . . & start eating in a way that helps your body become the healthy, strong body that you want." Jen's wisdom and fun sense of humor shine throughout this 132 page book. I'll share some snippets as an example:

"The function of water is simple: if you don't have it, you die."

"Some diets tout an eating plan that has you stop eating at 6:00 p.m. Here's the fact--your body does not have an alarm clock that suddenly sounds at 6:00 p.m. and states: "I have now passed the calorie-burning phase and will being the calorie-storing phase, so anything you eat after this point turns into fat."

"Face your stuff, don't stuff your face."

"I used to be motivated by wanting to look better. Now I don't care what I look like--when you get to be my age, some droopiness is inevitable. What motivates me is waking up and feeling good . . ."

In my opinion, "All Diets Work," is a work of pure genius. Jen Brewer has compiled some very basic, but proven ways to lose weight permanently. This is a book you will want to keep close and study repeatedly. The twenty-five tools that she shares are crucial to healthy weight loss, and the entire book is loaded with common sense. I found myself nodding as I read it through it the first time, agreeing with Jen's suggestions. Finally, I have been handed something that will work for me and won't sabotage the tightrope I walk daily as a Type 1 diabetic. This is the healthiest approach that I've seen in a very long time to losing weight and keeping fit. I'm giving this book, "All Diets Work," a tremendous thumbs up! You can purchase a copy for yourself by clicking on this link:
YOU SHOULD BUY THIS BOOK!

This is Jen's website: Click here for an inspiring website that will change your life

Jen Brewer also sent me a copy of smaller book written by herself and a woman named Amy Stucky. The title alone hooked me: "Be the Chocolate Chip!" (Okay, I'll freely admit that I'm a chocoholic.) This little booklet contains a wonderful analogy. In it we are reminded that chocolate chips don't melt into nothingness when facing tremendous heat. Written for the youth, it challenges them to remember that they can choose to be 'in the cookie, but not of the cookie.' As a long-time leader of the youth in my ward, I heartily recommend this book. In my opinion, this is something every teen should read and absorb.

You can purchase this booklet by clicking on this link:

Be the Chocolate Chip

Book Review: "All That Was Promised"

2011-08-16T15:54:00.000-07:00

Once in a while a book comes along that possesses the ability to link the reader to the past. All that was Promised is one such novel. Written by Vickie Hall, this historical book plunges the reader into the challenges faced by the early Welsh saints. Persecuted by family, friends, and neighbors, faithful Welsh members of the LDS Church faced overwhelming trials. I've heard similar stories from my husband's side of the family tree. Several of his ancestors originated from Wales, and that may be why this book struck such a chord for me. It also gave me a greater appreciation for how difficult it was for those valiant ancestors who persevered during that volatile era.

I found myself caught up in the storyline from the first chapter. Vickie accurately portrays the setting in Wales and her characters are well developed. My only complaint would be the tendency to jump from one point of view to another within the same scene. Aside from that, I found this book to be an extremely good read and I recommend it to anyone who enjoys historical fiction or who has an interest in the Welsh culture.

This is the storyline as described on the back of the book: "An encounter with a Mormon missionary and his unusual message of a 'restored gospel' leaves Richard Kenyon, a young Methodist minister questioning his life's work . . . Richard soon finds himself struggling to recognize the promised blessings of the gospel when violent persecution shakes the fledgling Church in Wales."

All that was Promised is Vickie Hall's debut novel. I look forward to her future works, and I am proud to help promote this new author. All that was Promised can be purchased by clicking on this link: Buy this book

Is It August Already?

2011-08-01T12:45:00.000-07:00

So does anyone else wonder where the month of July went? I can't believe it's already the first day of August. On the other hand, between reunions, camping adventures, girls' camp, etc. is it any wonder that the past four weeks were a blur of activity? ;) I think we were all trying to make up for the fact that winter kept us in its chilly clutches for far too long. We pretty much skipped spring and went right to summer about the end of June. =D

I'll post a few pictures today, to prove that we really did have a partial summer this year, complete with cook-outs, camp-outs, and even an excursion or two to Bear Lake.

We began July with the annual Crane Reunion. This year it was held at the Heise Hotsprings Campground near Ririe, Idaho. A good time was had by all.

Here some of the Crane Clan are enjoying an unique bean bag toss game.

This is a cute shot of our son, Devin, his wife, Emily, my husband, Kennon, and little Parker Crane, enjoying a moment in the shade.

The next weekend we journeyed to Lava, Idaho to enjoy a reunion from my side of the family tree: the annual Glenn Sibbett Reunion. In this shot my mother is posing with her sister and brothers. They are surrounding a painting rendered by my talented uncle (Ben Sibbett). The painting depicts the Wyoming ranch where my mother and her siblings grew up. Very cool.

And here is a random picture of the reunion itself. Good times--and awesome food.

Another event that took place around the second week of July: I hit the half-century mark with regard to age. ;) Yep, my family made fun of me . . . a lot. These are shots from a family BBQ where we celebrated several July birthdays in the Jackson clan. My siblings had a riot commemorating my landmark BD. Pictured above: sacks that highlight the year I was born. Below: special cupcakes made by my talented s-i-l, Shar. It was a fun occasion, and again, wonderful food.

Sadly, I learned later, immediately after the family BBQ mentioned above, that my husband's cousin, Kacey Crane, was killed in a plane crash in Grace, Idaho. This was a tragic loss that tore at all of our hearts. Kacey was only 35 and leaves behind two little boys and a beautiful wife. Our hearts go out to his entire family. Here is a link for a fundraiser for Kacey's family. Several items are up for bid: Crane Family Fundraiser

Kennon has caught some impressive fish this summer. Here's a trout he caught in Bear Lake, out fishing on a boat with his good brother, Jeffy.

This is a random shot of girls' camp this year, held the third week of July. Yep, Bennington Ward was assigned the value color, red, yet again this year. It's okay--we like red. ;) Here the girls are practicing their skit for the program that night.

From girls' camp we headed to a camp-out with family and friends at Palisades Lake, located between Wyoming and Idaho.

Here Jody & I are hamming it up on good brother-in-law, Jeffy's, boat as the menfolk troll for fish on Palisades Lake. We didn't catch any fish, but we had a lot of fun that day. Thank you Jeff and Dannyel for letting us ride around on your boat.

This is a shot of all three couples: Jody & Doran, Jeff & Dannyel, and Kennon & me at the famed Bar J in Jackson, Wyoming. This is a family oriented dinner and show type of thing. If you've never been, you should check it out sometime. The food is excellent, and the show is hilarious.

A really cool thing happened during the dinner show. A young couple from our neck of the woods (Bear Lake) got engaged onstage that night. Kelly thought she was winning a door prize and went onstage, not aware that her soon-to-be fiance, Austin, was about to propose. We were thrilled to be there for this event.

This is the final event we attended that weekend: the PBR Bull riding competition held in Afton, Wyoming that Saturday night. We had excellent seats and could see everything quite clearly. Once again, a good time was had by all--

with the exception of the cowboys who hit the ground fairly hard that night. The bulls were in fine form, giving each cowboy the ride of his life.

The final event of this busy month of July: our immediate family gathered together for a fun time, the first annual Kennon Crane Reunion. We enjoyed a cook-out Friday night, a day at Bear Lake on Saturday, and on Sunday, our cute new grandson, Ryker Glenn, was blessed in church.

Here is a picture of our entire family, and my mother. What a fun, wonderful day.

All in all, we did enjoy quite a few events this past month. I still can't believe August is upon us. ;) I think I could use another month between July and August, but that's just me. I am so not ready for fall to make its way onto the seasonal stage. =D What think the rest of you out there?

Writing--A Half-Century of Change

2011-07-11T11:55:00.001-07:00

So I hit a landmark occasion over the weekend and can now claim that I am a half-century in age. Wow . . . when you word it that way, it makes one sound rather old. ;) And since I seem to be approaching AARP mode, I feel it's only natural that I wax eloquently about some of the changes I've observed during my loooonnngg years in this mortal existence, especially as a writer.

First of all, despite what my children may think, we did have access to items like books when I was a kid. ;) Parchment documents were before my time. The big change here would be a subject matter that has been discussed lately on this blog: the advent of items like the Kindle or Nook. Books are now available in a computer format for easy download on these devices. Gone are the days when one could browse happily in the bosom of a favorite bookstore. Now most books (Hardbound editions are still available) can be purchased online, or in larger bookstore chains that are surviving the impact of E-Books.

While I'm enthralled with the idea of possessing an E-book reader that contains an unlimited library of books that can be carried around in one's purse, I will still want my old-fashioned books. In fact, to honor my noteworthy birthday this year, my kids got together and created a new library for me near the family room of our home, complete with brand new bookshelves. They are already filled with my collection of books, and most are organized into specific genres. I'm calling this my Kindle, the home edition. ;)

Another change: keyboarding had an entirely different meaning when I was in high school. It meant spending an hour in typing class every day, learning how to use an electric typewriter. In college, I enhanced this skill by taking advanced typing classes, figuring this knowledge could help me secure gainful employment. And those skills have come in handy with the career that developed in the writing world, so all of that training was not a waste of time. I can type faster than any of my kids, and they are impressed with my dexterity.

My first manuscript was composed on a sleek electric typewriter that was top of the line in its day. While it was impressive and even possessed a small memory capacity, if I decided to make any changes in a chapter, it meant retyping the entire thing. Let's just say that I was thrilled with my first computer, and the word processor it contained. This advancing technology has made that aspect of writing much easier. My current best friend: a nifty new laptop my husband bought for me last year. It uses Windows 7 and possesses more memory that I seem to have at the moment. =D

Back in the day, research for my books meant a series of interviews, hours spent at the local library, and traveling about the countryside. I still travel about the countryside when researching a setting for a book, but I use the internet to research details I can find at the click of a button. Instead of seeking out an expert mechanic to learn how to use the latest jack while changing a tire, I can use a Google search to find out the same information in much less time. I also cheat these days and tend to use an online dictionary and thesaurus. It saves time, and often comes up with more meanings or synonyms than I can find in my worn reference books in my new library downstairs.

Selling books these days is very different. My first book was published in 1994. To get word out, it meant advertising in newspapers, radio interviews, and booksignings. Booksignings still exist, and advertising compliments of newspapers and interviews still take place, but most of that can be done once again, compliments of the internet. Most newspapers and radio stations are available online. Utilizing items like Facebook, Twitter, Blogger, and online groups like the ForeverFriends Readers' list, grants access to an untold audience.

All in all, there have been many good changes during the past few years. While I will always treasure old-fashioned items like my books, I am impressed with the technology that in my opinion, has made it much easier to write.

Climb Every Mountain

2011-06-27T07:16:00.000-07:00

This past week I had the opportunity to help take our Laurels to a nearby canyon for a rappelling adventure. Originally, four of our girls were planning on participating. By the actual day of this activity, we were down to two who could still attend. Both girls are remarkable young ladies, but one has faced tremendous challenges. Her name is Sam, short for Samantha. She was in a horrible car accident about 8 months ago. Comatose for a time, she has fought an intense battle to regain abilities and skills most of us take for granted. She is still waging war on a daily basis against obstacles like double vision. I have no doubt that she will conquer these trials--she is a determined young woman and it is amazing to see the progress she has made.

Sam was an honor student in the past, and it was not surprising to me to see her name back on that same honor roll this past May at the end of the school year. She is also playing the piano for us in Y. W. again although she usually accomplishes this task by keeping one eye closed. She is a wonderful example of perseverance and courage and the light of Christ shines from her eyes when she shares her testimony of those things that matter most.

As we stood together, waiting for her turn to tackle the mountain on Saturday, she told me something I will always try to remember. She was sharing her secret for succeeding in life. It is simply this: "If I do well at something like cooking, I enjoy my efforts. If I'm not thrilled by what I've done, I can either accept it as is and be grateful for it, or try again and improve. The main thing is to be happy."

I suspect that is the key in life. We all face trials in this mortal realm. It's part of why we're here, part of our growing and learning process. Our attitude will determine how well we will do. Sam's positive mindset has helped her overcome tremendous challenges this past year. I was visiting with Sam and her mother at the hospital on a day when a physical therapist was trying to help Sam relearn to walk up steps. I was so touched by how hard Sam concentrated on lifting her foot, one step at a time. Ironically, I had brought her a framed picture that afternoon, something that has hung in a place of honor on the wall of my computer room for several years. It shows someone walking up a golden staircase, one step at a time. I had originally bought that picture to help remind me that all things are possible when we believe in ourselves. After the accident, I purchased a new frame for it, and presented it to Sam, knowing of the challenges she faced at the time.

I thought of that picture again on Saturday as I tearfully watched Sam climb up the face of a mountain, step by step. I was not at all surprised when she reached the top, grinning over her victory that day. I know it took a tremendous effort for her to accomplish that feat. At one point, one of her legs began to tremble uncontrollably, but she ignored it, and continued to push herself, determined to conquer this challenge. The joy in her step at she rappelled down that same mountain several minutes later was obvious to us all. She had successfully attained a goal, believing in herself every step of the way. And to me, that is the secret of living this life to the fullest.

Summer is Simmering

2011-06-08T11:06:00.000-07:00

Like many who dwell in our neck of the woods, we've been hopefully awaiting summer's arrival. It has been a looooong (emphasis on looooong) winter and we are craving sunshine, warm days, and all of the fun things that go with this time of year like camping, boating, fishing, reunions (did I really mention that last item?), etc.

Summer is on its way. This past weekend, we saw glimpses of the sun and it was lovely. My husband made good use of the brief nice weather and helped me plant our garden, and all three flower beds. Then it turned off cold and nasty again and froze 3 nights in a row. Sigh . . .

All is not lost, I'm keeping the tomatoes and pepper plants covered. I only planted hardy flowers that could survive at the North Pole, and our garden isn't up yet. When it does surface, it will mostly consist of root crops that don't freeze, like carrots, beets, onions, and so forth.

I snapped several photos (I know . . . gasp! . . . .) over the weekend and decided to share a few of them in this post. It is proof that summer is on its way and one of these days, the sun will shine and stay that way . . . at least for a little while.

This is a photo that was actually snapped on May 22, the day my new grandson was born. Yep, that's me holding the cute little tyke.

See, the four foot drift over our front yard has finally melted. This is a quick shot I took the other day of our dog, Brandy, and our cat, Cleo, who were both enjoying a warm nap in the sun.

Here's a shot I took over the weekend at Mud Lake, also known as Dingle Marsh, north of the famed Bear Lake. As you can see, it's full of water due to this year's impressive run-off.

Here is a shot I took that same night near Bear Lake. The past few years, we've been able to drive down that boat ramp you can see to cross the beach to play in the water. That won't be happening this year because of the water depth. We may be lucky to have any beach left when the snow all melts. ;)

This is another shot of Mud Lake, the south end, across the road from Bear Lake.

As you can see, we smacked into a plethora of bugs on our trip around the lake that night. (Yep, our windshield looked the same.) This doesn't bode well for future camping trips. I suspect we'll endure numerous mosquitoes this year.

Numerous homes that line the east side of Bear Lake are enjoying true lake front property this year. =D

The pelicans were enjoying the high tide as well.

This is a shot of the sun dipping low over the lake.

Sunsets are beautiful over Bear Lake. This is a photo I shot near the south end of the lake.

Time to call it a day.

Diet Coke Run

2011-05-31T05:25:00.000-07:00

Typically when most people envision a Diet Coke run, they think of jaunting to a local convenience store to fill their mugs, or perhaps to a local favorite eatery to grab a refreshing drink. Some may think this is a new type of marathon race, considering how many of those are in existence. For me, a Diet Coke run was something I shared with a dear friend whenever we could work it into our crazy schedules. For several years, this good friend and I shared many things in common. Both Type 1 diabetics, we fought the same daily battle. Teaming up in diabetic rebellion, we faced doctor appointments together, and even ran the local county diabetic support group for many years. We always went for a Diet Coke run afterwards to touch base and toast our continuing war against a dreaded disease.

Today, I purchased two Diet Cokes from a local store, and headed up a lonely road. Stopping near a recent mound of earth, I pulled out a cheery bouquet of sunflowers, and both Diet Cokes. I placed the bouquet of sunflowers near the other flowers that were set there over the weekend, and placed one bottle of Diet Coke near the sunflowers. Then I pulled out the second bottle, removed its lid, and drank a toast to my friend. It was my way of showing respect and honor to Denise, letting her and her family know this valiant woman is not forgotten.

It is the traditionally celebrated Memorial Day today. Numerous tributes have been taking place all weekend. We've been decorating graves since Saturday, reminiscing about ancestors and close family members and friends who have passed from this mortal existence. Last night, we watched a tribute on TV for veterans who paid the ultimate sacrifice for their country. Tonight, I'll be helping my husband take down all of the American flags that were set in place on veterans' graves last Thursday night in the local cemetery. Since Kennon is the head of the Bennington Cemetery Board, it's one of his responsibilities to make sure those flags are only in place for the allotted time during this commemorative holiday.

There are many ways to remember those who are no longer in mortal mode. Each year, a close friend and I make the rounds of several cemeteries in our valley, leaving behind small tokens of love on the graves of six special people who were taken in an instant from our lives in a fatal car accident. It's something we have done now for 14 years--our way of letting their families know we're thinking of them on this tender day. We will continue to do so until we are no longer in mortal mode ourselves.

Some people think this is a morbid tradition. I've actually heard some people say that it's a form of worshiping the dead. I beg to differ. I was raised in a family who spent Memorial Weekend decorating the graves of loved ones. In my opinion, it is an important tradition. It was upon these occasions that I learned family stories and legends that are part of our treasured family history. These stories need to be passed onto future generations as we pay tribute to those who paved the way for us, and those who gave their lives for our freedom.

It is up to us to decide how we will honor those who have gone before. I know for many people, this is the weekend that marks the beginning of summer. Lots of camping, boating, and traveling adventures are taking place. There is nothing wrong with that, but I hope that at some point during this holiday, most will pause for a moment to ponder the lives of those who are no longer with us. Though I doubt the deceased care how many flowers are left near their headstones, I suspect it does matter that they are not forgotten.

You Know It's Time to Consult Miss Clairol When . . .

2011-05-18T06:56:00.000-07:00

So there I was, standing innocently in line at a local store, minding my own business, when I was once again asked an insulting question: "Ma'am, do you qualify for the senior discount?" I'm sure the look on my face spoke volumes. ;)

I've noticed this kind of thing happens when the following trends take place:

A) I've had a bad week.

B) I've endured an arthritis flare-up from Hades.

C) My true roots begin to surface.

D) The clerk is a sweet young thing who pops chewing gum for entertainment.

This week I would have to add: E) All of the above. I tried to comfort myself by pondering that the diaper-clad clerk (okay, she was wearing jeans and a t-shirt) was trying to save me money. These days, that counts for quite a bit. On the other hand, I still feel insulted since I'm about ten years shy of the qualification standards for this thoughtful discount.

Since I wasn't prepared to offer a witty reply, I merely said something like: "Gee, I wish." To which the sweet young thing responded . . . "Oh, well, have a nice day."

Right. I've just been called an old person, and now I'm supposed to enjoy the rest of my day. In my defense, I've been fighting a family trend for years. I started going grey in my twenties. I have cousins who gave up dyeing their hair and were totally white-headed by the time they were in their forties. To my credit, I've been successfully keeping this character-building trait a secret for years. Evidently I'm slipping a bit.

So . . . I went to another store and bought a nice box of hair accentuation. I promptly used it the next day, and my husband remarked that it was good to see that I was feeling better. Ah. So maybe I was looking a bit gray around the gills this past week. I blame the weather. A lot. I suffer from a form of rheumatoid arthritis and when the barometric pressure changes, I become a great weather forecaster. This past week has been most impressive with regard to pressurization. The other day I felt like I was a walking canker sore; every part of my body hurt. And that's the day I was asked if I qualified for special privileges.

Two weeks ago I received an invitation to join the AARP. Now if this stood for: Arty Articulate Really Cool Person, I would've been excited. (I know, then it would be the AARCP) Instead it means: Any Airhead can Ridicule this Person. To my credit, I am reaching a landmark birthday this year. The kind that is celebrated with black balloons, etc. That does not mean I'm ready for nursing home mode!

So . . . to counter all of this I am going to start an exercise program, keep my hair looking as it should at this age, and wear a badge that says: "Ask stupid questions at your own risk!" I will also attempt to keep my sense of humor intact, since it's looking like that will be the best defense of all.

Beauty Is Truly in the Eye of the Beholder

2011-04-30T09:38:00.000-07:00

A few years ago I stood on a small hillside overlooking a field below. To the casual observer, there wasn’t anything special about this place. To me, it is a site of historical significance, a place of peace and solace where unexpected healing can transpire.

I had been there once before, ten years earlier. At that time, our family had traveled with close friends. As we exited our cars, most of us experienced a sense of profound reverence. Even our children were whispering as we walked around. My oldest son later told me it was like being in the temple. I tend to concur with that opinion.

While there, two close friends and I wandered into the trees on the small hillside. It was a pain-filled day for one of us—it marked the birthday of a beloved daughter who had passed away a few months before. As our friend quietly grieved for her daughter, a beautiful young woman who would have been fifteen, we walked in silence, yearning for comfort.

We had brought along a small vase containing flowers that were originally meant for an ancestor’s grave. Two of us share a common lineage and we had planned to leave that vase of silk flowers on a grandmother’s grave in Nauvoo. To our sad shock, we learned that her grave was among those lost when mobbers ruined the old cemetery. And so we brought that vase of flowers with us as we wandered into the heart of Adam-Ondi-Ahman.

It didn’t take us long to find a beautiful place to leave the vase—a tribute to our friend’s daughter. As we stood together, gazing down at the flowers, a peaceful love eased our heavy hearts. Somehow we knew life would go on, despite the pain of that time. It was the first ray of hope to brighten that dismal day.

When we eventually walked out to where our families were waiting, the three of us passed by a young couple. They were glaring around as if puzzled. Both were shabbily dressed, and the young man held a can of beer in his hand. “What’s so special about this place?” he growled as we walked past. It was like a slap in the face after the spiritual boost we had experienced in that same location.

The three of us later talked about that day and we decided that so much of what we encounter in life depends on our mindset. If we are prepared to embrace truth and beauty, we will find it. If our expectations are lower, we will find that, too.

Ten years later as I stood on that same hillside, seeking solace for a silent grief I carried, I felt very much alone. I was the only one who wanted to be there that day. Everyone else thought stopping in this out of the way location was a waste of time. While my traveling companions stood around, discussing the plainness of the area, I slipped off alone.

Once again prayers were answered and the peace I had been seeking was granted. That spiritual experience would carry me through several darkened days that were ahead. I will be forever grateful for the vision of hope that slipped into my heart to sustain me when the need was great.

It was a witness to me of the importance of faith . . . and attitude. Those two items truly make a difference in how we see the world. We could be standing in the most beautiful spot in existence, but if our minds and hearts aren’t open, we will miss what is there. Do we see the beauty, or do we focus on the flaws? I suspect those questions are of eternal significance, when all is said and done.

Exciting New Book!

2011-04-13T12:53:00.000-07:00

I've heard it said that desperation is the mother of all invention. This often happens in my own life when I'm in the middle of creating delicious cuisine for supper and realize I'm missing some of the key ingredients. =) Since it's more than a hop, skip, or a jump to the nearest store, I usually come up with a different way to tackle the meal in question.

I suspect we've all experienced moments in our lives when we've faced a challenging problem and had to think of a way to handle it in a creative fashion. Like last year at girls' camp when the girls from my ward invented a way to keep the food tent upright. It looked something like this:

What you can't see is the heavy rock they tied to one end of a rope to balance the weight of the tent. They threw it up into the pine tree, using a limb to hold the rope in place. And it worked! True ingenuity! =)

Three sisters that I know used a combination of meditation, prayer, and inspiration to come up with a solution to a dilemma they faced. Their mother had suffered from ill health for quite some time. She was unable to speak and though her mind was sharp until her death, her inability to express her needs was extremely frustrating to everyone involved. Susan, Jean, and Trudy often agonized over how they could help their mother and did their best to serve as translators for the hospital staff until their mother passed from this mortal world.

Susan's husband was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's disease shortly after these three sisters lost their mother. Once again this family was faced with the problem of being able to communicate with a loved one. Toward the end of Clayton's life, it was nearly impossible for him to express his needs to the hospital staff. In Jean's own words: "No patient should have to suffer such frustration in trying to express simple needs."

She began praying for answers and eventually, some ideas came to mind. She envisioned a small book with simple sentences that corresponded to brightly colored icons. The patient could point to the icons to communicate with hospital staff, family, or friends.

Jean shared her ideas with her sisters, and soon the three of them began working together to create this book. Trudy is a gifted artist and she began coming up with ideas for the icons. Susan and Jean spent hours constructing simple sentences that would help most patients convey their needs or concerns. When it was finished, they used the proto-type with Clayton and were amazed by how well it worked.

Most hospitals have flash cards that are used when patients struggle to communicate. The problem with the cards is the time it takes to find the right one. With this book, the patient can quickly locate the icon that represents his or her concern. It has been used with numerous patients and all have expressed how helpful it has been in situations where communication is limited.

When Susan, Jean, and Trudy saw how well their proto-type worked, they decided to get this helpful tool published. It is now available for purchase on this link: Communication for the Cognizant Nonverbal Patient This sixteen page book has the potential to help most patients who struggle with communication. I've been impressed with its ability to help those who cannot express themselves.

In recent months, one of my Laurels (yes, I'm still serving as the fearless leader for the YW in our ward) was seriously injured in a car accident. She was comatose for a time, and when she finally regained consciousness, she was unable to speak. Susan is her aunt and she loaned the proto-type of this book to her niece and her family. It proved to be an invaluable resource, providing a way for my Laurel to speak with a different voice until hers was restored.

I predict this little book will help countless lives. I am convinced that Jean, Susan, and Trudy were inspired to create it. For less than what you would pay for three gallons of gas, you can have a book on hand that may help a member of your family to maintain dignity and peace of mind.

If you are interested in learning more, click on My Companion Voice Blog or go to Facebook and visit My Companion Voice.

Conference . . . in General

2011-04-04T07:02:00.001-07:00

I love it when Conference weekend rolls around! It's more than the fact that I have a weekend off from all of the normal meetings that go along with my current calling (YW President). Though I also love lounging around in comfort at home with cool nibblies (my definition of tasty snacks) as I savor each talk, it's more than that, too.

I take lots of notes. Tons of notes. Someday when I'm dead and gone, my children will grimace when faced with the task of sorting through their mother's notes. I suspect they'll all get filed in the infamous "g" container and hauled off to the local dump. =)

For me, it's comforting to record bits and pieces of wisdom and peace that I glean from each talk. I write down impressions that come to mind, and scriptures that are shared. The latter item mentioned has become a bit more involved since most of the speakers no longer share the references. But I use a few key words to find those scriptures in the topical guide of my trusty quad.

I use tiny notebooks to record my infamous notes. Not only are they easy to haul around, but I can fit two or three in my scripture bag for later perusal. I'm planning on keeping this current notebook in my purse. There are days when I need those words of comfort and advice. Times when I need reminded of the peace I felt when a certain scripture was shared. I like having those items handy when I need them the most.

Here are some of the favorite thoughts I've gleaned this past week. This includes the talks given during the General YW broadcast:

"Make the Savior the center of our lives."

"Everyone is our neighbor!"

"Do a Samaritan-like act this week!"

"We do not run alone in this great race of life."

"Children are the key to helping us become like our Savior."

"The way we treat others reflects our devotion to the Savior."

"No pain we suffer is wasted."

"Angels sustain us during difficult times."

"LDS women are incredible!"

"Have I done any good in the world today?"

"We are often sent wake-up calls."

"The husband is the head of the family--the wife is the heart."

"Fear should not displace faith."

"Desires dictate our lives."

Etc. and so forth. As you can see, this is already quite a lengthy list and I barely scratched the surface of what I recorded. =) I also have a new favorite scripture: Hebrews 12:11. I didn't even have it marked in my set of scriptures---until yesterday. This scripture talks about trials, and the fact that we don't enjoy those challenges when they surface in our lives, but we always gain from those experiences.

Wow---I can't even put into words the insights I've gleaned from all of these inspired talks. As Elder Jeffery Holland stated yesterday, these messages are for us. They will help us survive the trying days ahead. They will bring comfort and peace, and nudges concerning the areas where we need improvement. Armed with their power, we can thrive during these interesting latter days.

Half Empty or Half Full?

2011-03-24T06:03:00.000-07:00

I'm sure we've all heard the adage: "It's important to see the cup half full." Some people see it half-empty on a frequent basis. Personality types are often determined by how we see that elusive cup. Sometimes it depends on the day. I've spent much of my life trying to see the cup half full. But there are days, like this entire past month, when that cup has been looking a tad bit on the empty side. True, I'm still wading through the grief that goes along with losing a good friend. (See post below.) One day I'm fine and figure I've moved on---the next day, not so much. It becomes a balancing act between forcing a smile and ignoring inner pain. One of the lifelines that helps me survive this process is having a sense of humor. A good laugh goes a long way toward easing turmoil. I've also learned that service is a great way to heal. Doing something for someone else chips away at the icebergs that sometimes erupt within our hearts.

We live in a challenging time. (Understatement of the year!) I suspect it has always been thus. There have always been wars and rumors of war. People have always struggled from day to day to make a living. I also think parenting has always been an adventure (think of how our first parents must have felt when one son killed the other--I'm just sayin'). I seriously doubt when we compare notes on the other side, we'll point fingers and say, "Oh, yeah, well you lived during an era of complete and utter peace. There were no trials, no disappointments, no heartaches." There might be one exception to this train of thought, and that would involve those lucky types who will dwell during the millennium, and I think even then, there may be a challenge or two to test their mettle.

Life is a test. My paternal grandmother used to tell me that this world is a giant classroom and we never know when we'll get hit with a pop quiz. Truer words were never spoken. I also think one of the most significant lessons we'll ever grasp during this mortal education is the importance of having a good attitude. This is often difficult when we're covered in something like boils (See the book of Job), swallowed by a whale (See the book of Jonah, or Pinocchio), or driving in Utah (see list of least friendly places to drive).

This attitude extends to how we treat each other. Are we nice to the poor clerk at the store who is paid minimum wage to endure the wrath of miffed bargain shoppers? Do we smile while waiting in the never-ending line at the post office? Are we overly-critical of others who don't measure up to our expectations? Do we take our very bad day out on the people who should mean the most to us?

Since we're all very different, we think in varying ways. We believe in all kinds of things, but there is one item we should consider: We are supposed to look on the bright side whenever possible and play nice with others. If you ever doubt this philosophy, review the Sermon on the Mount.

Bottom line, when this life is but a memory, the thing that will matter most is how we played the game. Were we fair, honest, obedient? Did we try to help others? Were we kind in our dealings with those around us? Did we bring joy into the world . . . or did others tip toe around us because our cup was half-empty and our attitude reflected this mindset? Something to ponder daily. Do we see the cup half-empty or half-full? This question may have eternal significance someday. Definitely a compelling point to consider.

Digging Out

2011-03-17T04:55:00.000-07:00

I apologize for not posting anything for a couple of weeks. Life happened and things have been crazy. Ironically, the day of my last post, (the irony is in the content of that post) a good friend of mine suffered a silent heart attack and passed quietly from all of our lives. It was such a shock to me. We've been friends for years, and had fought the same battle against Type 1 diabetes.

She was the one who talked me into seeing a wonderful diabetic specialist in Idaho Falls years ago. Since she just lived down the street from me at the time, we began traveling back and forth together, teaming up to wage war against the dreaded illness that threatened to take over our lives. We refused to let it, and we proved it by forming a local diabetic support group for all of those brave souls who were fighting a similar battle in our county.

We were also called upon to run booths at the health fairs sponsored by our local hospital for several years. And I've lost count of how many newly diagnosed diabetics we visited in our quest to offer hope and courage to those who felt like their lives had been turned upside down.

In short, this good friend and I shared a bond that ran fairly deep. We understood how "fun" the tight-rope of diabetes could be on occasion. We laughed over things no one else understood as we defied the odds on a regular basis.

Eventually this good friend of mine moved 30 miles away, but we still teamed up for various things like our support group meetings, the health fairs, etc. We kept in touch through phone calls, Christmas cards, and ran into each other on occasion at the varying stores in town.

I didn't realize when I ran into her a couple of months ago, it would be my final chance to visit with her in mortal mode. When the phone call came the day of her heart attack, I was unprepared to say goodbye. And a few days later when her body was unhooked from life support, it was like a bomb had gone off in my life.

I was asked to give the opening prayer at her funeral, and I struggled to pull things together to do so. For days it seemed like all I did was cry. With the passage of time it gets easier to breathe, but this has been a loss that has cut deep.

The past few days I've watched in a daze as Japan reels from the mayhem of a horrible disaster. I see the images of destruction and I sit in shock, wondering how these brave survivors will ever rebuild. But in my heart, I know they will. In time, these industrious people will rise above this tremendous challenge and they will learn to go on, despite the pain they will carry inside. So much has been lost, and yet with each new day, hope lives on.

That is what most of us try to do when challenges overwhelm. Eventually, we start picking up the pieces in an attempt to put things back together. We dig out from under the tidal wave of grief to go on. I've been challenged to get back into writing, and it's helping. Writing has always been a comforting balm for me--it was part of what helped me survive my father's suicide years ago.

The other day I wrote a poem I'll probably never let anyone see, but it helped to release some of the heartache. I will find other ways to dig out and one day I will smile again and actually mean it. Until then, I will take life one day at a time as I continue to carry the torch Denise has passed on to me.

2011-02-22T06:41:00.000-08:00

It's snowing today. This past week we've endured a plethora of snow storms, each one leaving an impressive amount of the fluffy white stuff in its wake. As such, I've heard a lot of complaints about this year's wintry weather. They hate that we have 2-3 feet of snow on the level, in comparison to other places that barely have a skiff, if that. They want spring NOW! And there are days when I agree with that sentiment, like when I'm traveling and the roads are slick. =)

Some people find this time of year to be depressing. They travel to places where the sun is shining brightly, in the hopes of renewing their spirits. This works for a time. Then, as with all vacations, it's time to come home to the snow.

I sense there is a little analogy hidden in all of this. Winter has always symbolized a state of rest, or in some cultures and religions: death. All that is living hibernates for a time, buried beneath a blanket of white.

Then spring arrives, bringing new life into the world. The snow melts, the flowers bloom, the grass is restored to a shiny green. Spring represents the resurrection of all living things. It is a time we all enjoy as we push aside the knowledge that in a few short months, we will be wading through the snowy season once again.

I suspect this is one of those teaching moments our Father hopes we'll grasp--that we'll reflect on the importance of life, making the most of the time we have in mortal mode. He longs for us to shine forth as the flowers in the spring, until the snowy season arrives when all growth is at rest.

I also believe that He wants us to realize that spring will always follow winter. A restoration of all things will occur when the time is right. Until then, we should look for the beauty of whichever season is currently taking place, appreciating with gratitude all that we've been given.

Oh, Deer!

2011-02-05T09:29:00.000-08:00

This past week I had an opportunity to photograph several deer that are currently in residence along the east side of Bear Lake. In lieu of a regular blog post, I thought I would share several photos instead. Enjoy!

Several of the deer seemed delighted to pose for me. =)

This one was a little bit shy. ;)

Here were a couple of cute fawns who were too small to jump over the fence with their mother.

This is where the mother of the twin fawns headed, to hang out with her peeps on the other side of the fence. There were about 20 head of deer in this location.

Here's one that was playing peek-a-boo near the lake.

This little guy was so cute! =) And what a little ham. He posed quite well for me.

This one was patiently waiting for her turn. ;)

We also saw a few eagles that day. Here's one posing with his breakfast.

It was a rather misty day. This is a cool shot I captured of the sun, covered by fog.

Here is a nifty shot of the mist fading, allowing the sun to shine through.

Once the sun was visible, the lake returned to its normal hue of gorgeousness.

And the deer enjoyed the sun as well.

On our way back through Dingle, the mist moved back in. But we could still see a group of deer frolicking on top of a haystack.

This final shot was also taken near Dingle. You may note that there are a couple of bucks hanging out with these does. One poor dude has orange twine wrapped around one of his antlers. Most uncool. However, he wasn't about to let me help him get untangled.

Cyber Moping/Musing

2011-01-26T04:39:00.000-08:00

There are several nasty ways to wake up each morning. As a diabetic, periodically I dream that I'm chasing candy, and wake up in insulin shock. And when a storm front is moving into our realm, there are times when my arthritis flares and I wake up feeling like I'm 90 years old. Last week I decided that I would much prefer waking up compliments of those incentives, as opposed to what took place a few days ago.

So, there I was, still half-asleep, starting up my computer. It was around 5:30 a.m. and I woke up feeling like I should work on a manuscript I've been tweaking lately. But first, of course, I felt the need to check my e-mail. This proved to be a big mistake!

With my new laptop, it doesn't take long to get things started. I stared, bleary-eyed at my screen as it worked its magic and pulled up the internet first thing. I clicked on my e-mail account and ta-da (as my tiny granddaughter says over great accomplishments), instant gratification . . . and mortification. Sitting in my in-box was a message to me . . . from me. I didn't recall sending anything to myself (I figure that's right up there with talking to one's self, but I digress).

Wide awake now, I opened this weird e-mail and found that it contained a link to a terribly inappropriate website. I was not amused. There wasn't a title in the subject box and I knew with a sinking feeling, that this was one of those much-discussed hacker jobs. Someone had broken into my account and sabotaged things. It made me sick. Just last week, this same thing had happened to a good friend of mine, and the e-mail supposedly sent from her, went out to everyone on her e-mail address list. I had consoled her teasingly at the time, since she is currently serving as the stake R.S. president in our area. That wayward e-mail had gone to people like our stake president. OUCH!!!

Figuring my dilemma was due in part to my secret snickering over my friend's mishap (I've always shared the following phrase with my children: "That which we mock, we become!" I should know better!) I immediately began repenting. It's not as funny when it happens to you personally. And the subject matter in my hack job was far worse than what my friend endured.

I'll admit, I sat in shock for a minute. Then I sprang into action. I was going to be out of town for four days and knew I needed to rectify this immediately. I sent warnings to everyone listed in my e-mail addresses, explaining the situation. Then I sat back and offered a small prayer that all would be well.

I also changed my e-mail password . . . again . . . something I do quite often these days as my computer literate children recommend to keep things safe. As I did all of this, I felt a surge of anger. Why does this kind of thing keep happening? I love the instant access the internet give us to family and friends. And, it makes things like paying bills and banking much easier. But it also opens the door to tremendous misery when reprobates decide this is a great thing to exploit. Are people really so bored in their own lives that they feel the need to invade everyone else's privacy? And then there's the matter of fraud. I know of several people who have had their bank accounts tampered with compliments of internet thieves. I also know there are online predators who take full advantage of innocent lives, causing havoc and pain.

It's rather scary when you think about it. And yet, like everything else, there is much that is good about the internet. It makes research so much easier for someone like me, who dabbles in the written word. I've also found tons of information about my ancestors compliments of the internet. And I love being able to snag pictures of my loved ones when they post them on places like Facebook, or on their individual blogs. However, it makes me uneasy when I realize how easy it is for online predators to do the same thing.

In my opinion, the internet is a two-edged sword. If it swings in the right direction, much good is accomplished. But when it swings the other way, look out---the injuries inflict untold misery.

One of my sons is a computer genius, and he is often telling the rest of our clan how we can be safe online: We are to use only numbers and symbols for passwords. Never belong to anything like unto "Facebook." Etc. and so forth. And yet, I protest. I hate feeling intimidated by online hackers\predators. In a way, it's like we're letting them win when we adapt our lives to hinder them. There has to be a better way. Until I figure it out, I'm open to suggestions. What do the rest of you do to be safe online in cyber-space? (Feel free to share.)

An "Aha" Moment

2011-01-20T09:50:00.000-08:00

I suspect that at the beginning of each new year, we all ponder changes in our lives. Some make resolutions, determined to see them through. I've been guilty of this type of behavior, usually with less than stellar results. But this year, instead of writing down something along the lines of: "In 2011 I promise to . . . blah . . blah . . . blah . . ." I decided to try a different ploy. Ignoring the temptation to draw up a list of items like this:

This year I will lose this much weight: _______________
My blood sugar levels will always stay in this range: ____________
I will get this many hours of sleep per night: ____________
I will exercise ___________ hours every day.

I decided instead to be elusive. I didn't write anything down. I didn't make any pledges, nor did I document goals with family or friends as witnesses. Knowing my tendency to blow such high-browed ambitions about the third month of each year, and the nasty guilt that surfaces as a result, I am being extremely vague in 2011. I have one intent this year: to simply do better. I figure I can adjust what that means on a daily basis. It might mean on a given day that I will spend more time studying the scriptures, or reducing my carb counts. On another day it may mean that I will increase the amount of time I spend on the treadmill. On yet another day, it may simply mean that I will devote a couple of extra hours working on the great American novel.

So far I like this plan much better. I'm not feeling the pressure I've felt in the past, and it's working. I won't jinx things by revealing how often I've exercised since the beginning of 2011, but I think my diabetic doctor will be pleased. Will I earn the "Honor Bee," award by our ward's New Beginnings ceremony in February? Time will tell, but I'm making good strides. And if I don't earn it by then, I still have the rest of 2011 to do so. (I earned the YW Recognition Award in 2010, so I figure the odds are in my favor.)

Am I making progress with the great American novel? I don't have to report to anyone but myself on that one. =D Isn't this great?! And the best part, since I haven't etched anything in stone this year, when asked if I accomplished my goals for 2011, the truthful answer will be a resounding: "You bet!" And since this is something I've never been able to do, no matter how this year turns out, I will feel a tremendous sense of accomplishment. And that will truly be something to celebrate at the close of 2011.

Book Review: "Who's At The Door?"

2011-01-10T06:18:00.000-08:00

I'm beginning this year's collection of blog posts with a book review of a new and exciting read. It's entitled: "Who's at the Door," written by Dan Harrington.

This book offers a unique perspective in comparison to the traditional "conversion" stories that many LDS books contain. It is written in first-person-narrative by Dan, who investigated the LDS Church quite thoroughly. This adventure began as a story idea for a local newspaper. Dan's research plunged him into an ongoing quest for truth as he met with a series of LDS missionaries during a two-year period. Extremely well-written and laced with humor, this work of non-fiction is an enjoyable experience. It presents food for thought when considering the process most investigators endure when learning about the LDS religion.

It struck a chord with me right off the bat as my three sons have served missions for the LDS Church in varied locations. One son served in Seattle, Washington, another in Brazil, and our youngest son served in Canada. I found myself comparing some of their experiences with those shared by Mr. Harrington. There were moments of head nodding and shaking as I read through the varied chapters. My heart sunk when I read about the ward member who was a repeated "no-show" during several appointments the elders tried to set up with Dan. I reflected on what my own sons have said about the importance of ward involvement when an investigator begins the journey of looking into the Church.

I think those of us who are born into the LDS Church take so much for granted. We don't realize how much there is to learn for those who are seeking truth and knowledge compliments of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. It is often a painful pilgrimage, and one that shouldn't be faced alone.

In some respects, we are all converts to the Gospel. My own journey along that path was filled with obstacles. I came from what would currently be classified as a "less-active" family. Friends, seminary teachers, and inspired YW leaders played a crucial role in my conversion process. And while attending Ricks College, I was still learning important gospel principles that my friends had cut their teeth on while quite young. I'll never forget the night I stared at my college roomies, thinking they were all extremely strange as they knelt together that first time for what they called "family prayer." I had no idea what they were talking about. I also learned about tithing, and Family Home Evening while in college mode.

Can I just say that my first attempt at presenting a FHE lesson was less than enjoyable? I had no idea what I was doing and when one rooomate made what she thought was a humorous observation, the unintended insult cut deep. Fortunately, the witness I had received about the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon had been so intense, it was something I never questioned. So while many mistakes were made by myself and well-meaning ward members and friends, I continued forward, knowing that what mattered most was the nugget of truth that burned inside my heart.

As I read "Who's At The Door?" I identified quite strongly with Dan Harrington. While I didn't have his experience of meeting with missionaries, I did spend many hours discussing gospel doctrine with friends, leaders, and teachers. Their testimonies laid the foundation for me to gain my own witness. Their example and teachings gave me the courage to press forward despite the uphill battle I waged with my father who was often antagonistic toward the Church.

My hat is off to Dan. He has written an honest treatise about a subject that is close to many hearts. Though his journey differed from mine, I respect his opinion and hope that one day he will succeed in his quest. I highly recommend his book. I think it will be an important resource for anyone making this same journey, or for those who are helping anyone involved in the crusade for truth. It will inspire smiles, laughs, and a bit of soul-searching as we reflect on questions we've all asked from time to time.

You can purchase a copy of this book by clicking on this link: Buy Dan's book

And here's a great interview with Dan: Dan's Interview

Gifts of the Heart

2010-12-27T07:06:00.000-08:00

My mother has always been a great example of what being a "giver," is all about. She has taught me lessons based on that subject for many years. I will always remember the night she "encouraged" me to help her take dinner into the home of one of my seminary teachers. That family had been in a nasty car accident about two days prior, and their youngest child, an infant, had been killed. I didn't know what to say or do, but my mother taught me that what matters most is simply being there.

There were other lessons, like the time I tripped over a garden hose lying in the front yard and dropped a plate of cream puffs. It was to be part of the dinner she had planned for a family whose mother was home, recovering from major surgery. She didn't lecture on my lack of grace, she merely sighed, helped me pick up the mess, and then instructed me to retrieve the second plate of cream puffs from our house, a treat intended for our family. Not only was I entrusted with carrying the second plate, but I was allowed later on to create a different dessert for our own family.

Years later, after my father's untimely death, my mother was working as a CNA at a nursing home. At the time, she worked with the most difficult wing; her patients had all been diagnosed with a form of Alzheimers. One lady was blind and had been assigned into that unit simply because it was more difficult to care for her. That Christmas Eve, my mother asked all of us to accompany her back to the nursing home. We brought plates of homemade sugar cookies we had decorated earlier that day, and my guitar. We went from room to room, singing Christmas Carols, and sharing treats with those who were alone. I've never forgotten how I felt that night, nor the tears that raced down the face of the blind woman who had felt forgotten and discarded.

This past year, my mother has faced a series of major changes in her life. She had been living with my youngest sister. But when this same sister announced her engagement and upcoming wedding, Mom decided it was time to move on. She wanted to return to Bear Lake, where she had lived for a time after my graduation from high school. We found her a cute apartment in a nearby retirement complex, and now I see her on a daily basis. It has been a fun experience, and she is still teaching me lessons on giving. She gets by on a frugal income these days, but her heart is still very much intent on helping those around her.

This past Thanksgiving, we took in 3 plates of food to ladies who live in Mom's retirement complex. These were some of my mother's new friends, and none of them had plans to do anything special for that holiday. So before we consumed our own feast, we helped our mother take plates of food into these sweet ladies. We later heard how thrilled they had been by the tasty treats we had brought to them that day. In a sad twist, one of these women passed away about a week later. Here is the rest of the story:

We didn't know it at the time, but this dear lady had avoided celebrating Thanksgiving for years. It was on Thanksgiving Day that her only daughter died of a drug overdose. For understandable reasons, Thanksgiving was a time of mourning. Before this year's Thanksgiving season, this same woman had told my mother that she wasn't going to do anything for Christmas either. But after the plate of food was brought into her apartment, this woman caught a bit of my mother's holiday spirit. The next day, she went out and bought gifts for her family, and Christmas cards. She began decorating her apartment for Christmas. People who knew her, said she was happier than she had been in a long time. Then she collapsed upstairs while doing her laundry. She was rushed to a hospital, but her heart, which had undergone a loving transformation, gave out.

I accompanied my mother to her friend's funeral. It was a bittersweet day. Earlier, my mother had been given a Christmas card made out to her by this same friend. We talked for quite some time about how my mother shouldn't feel regret, since she had brought such joy into her new friend's life during her final days in mortal mode.

To me, that's what the holiday season is all about: bringing joy into the lives of others. This is a time of year when we lovingly share with family, friends, and those who need it most. And as I have learned, compliments of my mother, it isn't so much what we give, but how we give. When those gifts are from the heart, they possess the power to change lives and boost spirits. And those are the best gifts of all.

The White Stocking

2010-12-14T06:48:00.001-08:00

Several years ago the bishop of our ward gave every family in our small town a small white Christmas stocking. He challenged us to gather as a family and privately decide on an individual basis what our gift to the Savior would be for the coming year. Our gift would be written on scraps of paper, and then folded and placed inside of the white stocking for safe keeping. During the holiday season, this stocking would be kept on the Christmas tree as a reminder of what we had pledged to do in the coming months. After that it was to be placed in an area where it could be seen often to help us remember what we've pledged.

Our family took this challenge to heart and each year on Christmas Eve, we gather as a family to retrieve our personal pledge from the white stocking. Silently we reflect on how well we came through on whatever our gift to the Savior was that year. Then after some thought, we decide what next year's gift will be.

As you may have guessed, these gifts are not of a material nature. They are gifts of the heart and mind, promises of self-improvement. Most in our clan select Christ-like attributes---the choice is up to each individual.

Wouldn't it be a remarkable thing if each year at Christmas-time, the entire world population would take a few moments to reflect on a gift to the Savior? Instead of focusing on the materialistic trends we see this time of year, simple gifts of the heart would be rendered.

This time of year I think of the shepherds who were the first to see the Christ-child after his humble birth. The gifts they brought were simple in comparison with those that were later given by the wise men, and yet I'm certain they were treasured most by our Elder Brother. They were gifts of humility, kindness, and love. Faith, hope, and charity were at the heart of these oblations. These are the character traits our Savior longs for each one of us to embrace and share.

So this Christmas season, as we bustle about preparing for this sacred time of year, let us reflect on how best we can celebrate the birth of our Lord. I think most of us will find that the most joy will come from sharing the simple gifts that were given long ago in a humble stable where the Prince of Peace was born.

Surviving the Aftermath of Suicide

2010-11-30T06:45:00.000-08:00

When you first receive word of the suicide death of a loved one, it’s as though the world has tipped on its side. I’ve survived this nightmare twice, and both times as the news descended I felt as though the ocean was roaring inside my ears. There is no way to prepare for this kind of loss. After the initial blow, thankfully a sense of numbness prevails. This is followed by the welcome intervention of the Comforter. Somehow you get through those first difficult days carried by the Spirit. In a state of shock, you handle things you never dreamed you would ever face. Then finally, the funeral, the visits, the final decisions are made. That time passes in a blurred haze—and then the pain descends.

Suicide goes against everything we’ve ever been taught about enduring to the end. As such, when a family member chooses to exit this mortal world by their own hand, we are left without the comfort of knowing it was their time to go. We are inundated with emotions that threaten to tear us apart. Guilt, anger, and grieving pain alternate for attention as we struggle through a loss we can’t put into words. It helps to know that this life isn't the end, nor does progression stop on the other side of the veil. I know that loved ones who commit suicide live on, and receive the help they need on the other side of the veil. That witness has come after years of prayerful research, talking to priesthood leaders, and sacred moments within the temple walls. What a comfort that knowledge has been in my life. It is not our place to judge--we do not fully understand the mindset of those who commit suicide. That task is left to a loving Father in heaven who will take all things into consideration. Our responsibility lies in continuing on, letting go of the pain, and finding peace in forgiveness.

I was told in the days following my father’s suicide that this type of loss is comparable to the trauma experienced by those who survive a war. I would agree with that analysis. Thankfully, we are not left alone in our suffering. It has been my experience that heaven’s eyes are upon families torn apart by this type of tragic loss. We witnessed miracle after miracle in our family following my father’s demise. Hearts around us were touched to help when the need was great. How grateful we are for those who followed through on important promptings.

Since we’re all different, we tend to heal in varied ways. In our family it took a combination of things to repair our broken hearts. We learned that heartache is truly a physical pain. For the longest time I felt as though a stone was wedged tightly inside my heart. Then one day I stumbled onto something that eased that discomfort: serving others.

Nearly a month after losing my father, I was called upon to take dinner into a sister who had been ill. At first, I was resentful. Because of the way my father had died, I had been treated like a non-person. This loss had taken place during a time when suicide was a rare occurrence. Most people didn’t know what to do or say; I can count on one hand the number of people who were brave enough to wade into the mire of grief that became my life. So when I was asked to help someone else, I wasn’t overly thrilled. An overactive conscience prevented me from declining.

I’m fortunate I didn’t cut off a finger as I angrily chopped vegetables for the homemade clam chowder I had decided to make. I was still upset as I toted that kettle of soup inside this sister’s home. But when I saw how sick she really was, the iceberg that had settled inside my heart began to melt. Her need for help was great, and as I did minor household chores before leaving, I pulled outside of my own grief to serve. That was a turning point for me. Serving others proved to be a healing balm for my aching heart. Soon I was looking for ways to help those around me who were struggling. Each time I rendered service, the pain I carried lessened.

On the nights when I couldn’t sleep, I found that if I wrote out everything I was feeling, it also eased the pain. I shredded those pages and with each tear, peace replaced the anguish. I later learned that I had been guided toward taking care of my own therapy. Writing things out is an important release, and something that is recommended when facing traumatic loss. Writing became another healing balm for me and in time, I would become a published author. I truly learned that when much is taken, much is given in its place.

Something else that helped: letting go of the guilt. We had done the best we could under extremely trying conditions. We had to realize we were not to blame for Dad’s death. He was very ill at the time and committed an act he never would have considered had he been in a healthy state of mind. I suspect this same fact is true in most cases, including the more recent suicide death of my brother-in-law. The “what-ifs” can eat us alive if we’re not careful. Prayerfully seek help to heal from this volatile emotion. Professional counseling is a great way to work through this part of the healing process.

Holidays and special family events tend to bring back intense grief. For years I spent nearly every Father’s Day in the bathroom at the church, trying to paste myself back together. In time, those days soften. But at first, they rub salt in an extremely tender heart wound. Prayer, scripture study, temple attendance, and remembering there is strength in numbers are all crucial helps to surviving difficult days. We still gather together as a family to weather the holidays. We try to focus on the good memories of the past, and aim to make fun memories for the future.

Another tip to enduring a difficult day: reflect on the blessings. I would often make a list of the good things happening in my life. It was a needed reminder that despite all that we had lost, numerous positive blessings were also taking place in our lives. Instead of blaming God for what had happened, I tried to realize it was through His help that we were surviving.

I am living proof that it is possible to work through the devastation of a loved one’s suicide. That darkened tunnel can be survived. If this has been your challenge, place your hand in God’s and take each day as it comes. Step by step move forward knowing that eventually the pain will cease. The sun will return to your life and you will feel the warmth of knowing you are not alone in this trial.

__________________________________________________________________

It was mentioned to me at the completion of this article that it might be helpful to know how our family did in the years that followed Dad's unfortunate demise. Here is a brief run-down. As you'll see, we were each able to go on with our lives and enjoy a certain amount of success despite the tremendous heartache we endured:

I was a twenty-two year-old wife and mother when my father passed away. My two younger sisters were both in high school, and our brother was nineteen. Our mother was forty-three when this tragedy struck. A remarkable woman, she moved the family to Logan, Utah so everyone would have access to a college education. She then attended a trade-tech where she graduated as the valedictorian of her class. She worked for several years as a dental assistant and is now retired. She is still a great example of perseverance and fortitude.

My brother was able to serve a mission compliments of some friends of our father who wanted to finance that opportunity in honor of Dad's memory. He left for the mission field about 6 months after we lost our father.

Both of my sisters graduated from college. They are married, have great families, and enjoy wonderful careers. One works as a technical writer for a software company. Her first novel was published this year. The other works for a medical research company where she is a Clinical Research Coordinator.

Our brother served a successful mission in Montreal, Canada. He returned to Logan where he majored in psychology. He eventually obtained a master's degree and he works for the state of Utah, counseling those who are injured in accidents. He is also a talented web designer. He and his wife have three beautiful daughters, and they reside in Utah.

Kennon & I are the proud parents of three sons, we have welcomed two wonderful daughters-in-law to our family, and we love being grandparents to a cute tiny girl. I am a published author with nine books to my credit at this time.

I Survived NaNoWriMo!

2010-11-29T14:25:00.001-08:00

So about a month ago, I was challenged by a family member to participate in this year's NaNoWriMo In a nutshell, this is a writing challenge. One has to commit to writing 50,000 words in one month's time. Wow!!! I've dabbled in the writing world before, but I'm not sure I've ever written 50,000 words in 30 days---until now. I'm proud to share that as of this afternoon, I have indeed completed this remarkable feat. (You may hold the applause for later.) ;) [Kidding!]

I have to say this challenge was just that---a challenge! And yet it was a refreshing way to break through writer's block. I used a storyline that has been rattling around in my head for a couple of years. Now it's finally down on paper . . . actually typed up on a word processor on my laptop, but I digress. True, it needs a bit of polishing and such, but it has morphed into a workable manuscript, complete with a plot-line.

Would I have completed the story without this little nudge from NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month)? I'm not sure. All I know is despite all of this past month's adventures, which included feeding 23 people for Thanksgiving dinner, I squeaked in under the wire to finish. What a feeling of accomplishment. Even if this story never succeeds in getting published, what a rush to know I completed what I had pledged to do.

Will I tackle this challenge next year? That remains to be seen, but at this point in time I wouldn't be at all surprised. After all, my future bestseller will possibly be in need of a sequel. ;)

God's Tapestry

2010-11-02T08:43:00.000-07:00

This past month has been a blur in our neck of the woods. So many challenging trials are taking place all around me. A couple of those have had quite an impact on my own life.

I've served as the YW president in our ward for nearly 5 years. In that time, I've grown close to the young women that I serve. A month ago, one of my Laurels was involved in a horrible car accident.

My husband and I hurried to the hospital as soon as we learned the news. Samantha was in ER, still unconscious. As I'm also a visiting teacher to Samantha's mother, I spent some time trying to offer comfort as we all prayed that Sam would wake up.

Sam didn't regain consciousness and it was decided that she would be flown by Life-Flight to a hospital in Salt Lake City. However, the weather was nasty that night and fate had other plans. Instead of taking Sam to Salt Lake, the helicopter flew her to the hospital in Idaho Falls, where she has been ever since.

It was a tough few days in the neighborhood. The accident had taken place on a Thursday afternoon. That Sunday she was still in a coma. I had to face a room full of grieving young women and didn't know quite how to handle things. Our Father in heaven did, however. After a heartfelt prayer, an inspired idea popped into my mind. We would make a cassette tape for Sam, one that would contain messages of love from all of the girls and YW leaders.

As we made the tape that Sunday morning, we decided to include a few musical numbers since Sam loves music and she was our main pianist in the YW realm. We saw a tiny miracle take place during YW as tearful frowns turned into hopeful smiles. Making that tape for Samantha was healing for us all.

We were able to get the tape to Sam's family two days later, and it was transferred to the hospital in Idaho Falls. We were later told that Sam had tapped her foot in time to the music as it had been played, and she had moved around in her bed during the messages. Still unconscious, Sam's reaction to the tape gave us hope that she would eventually wake from the coma.

We've seen several miracles with Sam the past few weeks. Prayers have indeed been answered. Despite the brain shearing injury Samantha sustained, she finally woke up, and she is recovering at an amazing rate. She is now in the rehab center of Eastern Idaho Regional Medical Center, making impressive progress each day. You can see daily updates on this link: Sam's Blogsite

Every bone in Samantha's body should have been broken in that accident. Aside from the brain injury, she was fine. That in and of itself is amazing, and a testament to how watched over she really was.

My husband and I stopped in for a quick visit at the hospital in Idaho Falls this past week. It was heartwarming to see Sam's smile, and to hear her call my name. Though she has a ways to go toward a complete recovery, an inner light radiates from her eyes, indicating she is determined to win this battle.

How grateful we are that the Lord is truly at the helm. We have to put our trust in Him, especially when things spiral out of our control. Though life's trials continue, we know that things generally work out for the best. We can't see the entire picture now, but someday it will all make sense.

Along those lines, I will close with a favorite poem that pretty well sums things up:

THE WEAVER
________________________________
Written by B.M. Franklin (1882-1965)

My life is just a weaving
Between my Lord and me.
I cannot choose the colors
He weaves so skillfully.

Sometimes He weaveth sorrow
And I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper
And I the underside.

Not ‘til the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Will God unroll the canvas
And explain the reasons why-

The dark threads are as needful,
In The Weaver’s skillful hands
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned.

Standing At The Crossroads

2010-10-21T05:06:00.000-07:00

We've all been there, we've all endured moments when we stand at an intersection and try to decide which way is the best direction to head. We ponder the consequences, all that can be gained or lost, then venture forth, hoping we've chosen wisely.

Choices seem to be part of our mortal existence. We begin making decisions early on. Most of our early adventures in life revolve around the food we will or will not eat, what toys we will select, and which colors we will wear. Some decisions don't change much through the years. ;)

There are also milestones in our lives when we ponder items that will have a huge impact on the remainder of our days. What do I do after high school? After college? Who should I marry? What do I want to be when I grow up? No pressure. ;)

We find ourselves standing once again at the crossroads upon reaching the status of empty-nester. Now that the children have all fled the family home, what do I do with my life? Do I return to college and pick up the rest of my degree? Should I tackle the writing world again? Would I be better off polishing new talents and interests? And what about this silly body of mine that keeps trying to show me who's boss? What colors should I wear? Which toys do I want? These and other questions keep me awake at night. Silly, I know, but I find that as I enter this newest phase of my life, there are decisions to make yet again.

I suspect it will always be that way. There will always be new decisions to contemplate. This keeps us from becoming stagnant. Fresh ideas and perspectives are crucial to further growth and development. This keeps us alive and hopefully heading in the right direction.

So on days like today when I'm not sure what I want to be when I grow up, I will carefully weigh all of my options and then aim for the best direction, knowing there will always be another crossroad ahead to navigate.

Sunny With a Chance of Showers

2010-10-12T10:03:00.000-07:00

How often have we heard weather forecasters predict that we will experience a sunny day with a chance of showers? Probably too many times to count. ;) Today was one of those kind of days. It dawned bright and cheery, the sun peeking out over the mountain tops. "Aha," I though to myself as I prepared to face the day's events, "the weatherman lied last night." Last night's prediction was for rain . . . rain . . . and more rain with a chance of snow in the higher elevations. There was no mention of sun . . . and yet it has burst through the clouds off and on all day.

I went about my list of errands this morning, believing the storm fairies were having fun with the local weatherman, when all of a sudden, it began to sprinkle . . . and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. It sprinkled all the same. It did this for quite some time . . . and then the sky grew dark with menacing clouds. "Ah, here it comes," I commented . . . and it did indeed . . . for nearly two solid hours. It rained, poured, and provided an impressive gulley-washer as we call it around these parts.

Then the sun came out and warmed things up nicely . . . before the next storm descended. The battle between clouds and sun took place most of the day. Currently, the sun is shining but I can see a glimmer of darkened clouds on the horizon, indicating that the storms aren't quite finished for the day.

It's like that with life; storms and sunshine seem intermixed. On one of the most beautiful fall days imaginable a darkened storm surfaced into my life 27 years ago. On that day my father chose to end his life. I remember walking outside later that morning after receiving the news, and wondering how anyone could do such a thing on a day that was so gorgeous. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and yet it rained steadily inside my heart for several weeks.

Storms come into our lives for important reasons, like the need for new growth. Sometimes they spring out in a surprising manner, clouding our lives without warning, due in part to the fault of others. However they descend, I know that eventually, the Son will reappear, drying our tears, warming our hearts, and reminding us there is always hope, no matter how dark the skies may appear on the horizon.

(Note: I composed this post a week ago for another LDS blog group that I belong to {V-Formation}. I had no idea at the time that another storm was brewing in our lives. On Thursday of last week, one of my Laurels was seriously injured in a car accident. As of today, she is still comatose. She is showing positive signs of coming out of this {she opened her eyes for a few moments last night while I was talking to her mother on the phone} and we are confident that eventually, Samantha will return to us. Until then, our prayers continue to be with Sam, and with her family. You can access a blogsite her oldest sister has put together that contains updates on Sam's condition here: Sammy's Blogsite )

Falling Into Place

2010-09-30T05:22:00.000-07:00

I do apologize for not posting much of anything lately. As I glance back over this past summer, it's rather a blur. A good blur for the most part, but a blur all the same. In three months time our family survived 2 weddings, a couple of funerals, a plethora of reunions, girls camp, and the discovery that I have a food allergy (MSG). Never a dull moment, and I suspect that is how life is meant to be.

To atone for my absence the past couple of weeks, I will post a series of pictures I shot on a recent camping adventure in the hills behind our home in Bennington. I love this time of year and savor the fall colors. I trust most of you feel the same way. As such, enjoy the beauty of our world.

This shot managed to capture most of the vivid colors Mother Nature has provided this fall.

Though some of the trees are already losing their leaves, the colors are still inspiring.

Here Kennon is posing beside one of my favorite fall colors.

He talked me into posing beside one of his favorite colors.

We rode the trusty 4-wheeler up on top of one mountain. Here is the view below.

And this was the view from another side of that same mountain top: the famed Bear Lake as seen from on high. The sun was about to set, so the colors were impressive that night.

And here was our mode of transportation that night: Behold the mighty 4-wheeler!

Another view from the top of the mountain.

It was a gorgeous sunset.

I love sunsets! This one was extremely colorful.

That's it for now. Tune in soon for shots I snapped on the way up to Periodic Springs above Afton, Wyoming.

Media Frenzy

2010-09-07T06:53:00.000-07:00

We truly live in a remarkable era. People can communicate in a variety of ways via such things as cell phones, texting, Twitter, Facebook, Skype, blogging, and so forth. Computers that once filled entire rooms, can now be held in the palm of one's hand. It will be interesting to see what will be invented next.

I remember typing my first novel on an electric typewriter---top of the line for its day. The down side of using this device was that whenever something needed to be corrected, it usually meant retyping an entire chapter.

How excited I was when we purchased our first desktop computer. It was a 286 IBM compatible complete with a word processor, and other software programs designed to make several tasks easier. To understand it all, I took a computer class that was being offered locally. There are still items I can do compliments of this training, despite the fact that my newest computer is now a Toshiba laptop with a 287 gigabyte hard-drive. Windows 7 is its operating system, and this laptop possesses the technology to create and play DVD's. I'm still amazed by how fast it runs in comparison to my first laptop.

This new technology has made it easier to compose manuscripts. My cell phone makes it possible for my family and friends to contact me, regardless of where I might be. It even possesses a tiny camera, if I should feel the need to snap a photo to share. And while I am grateful for these and other improvements in our world, I am also a little concerned. As with everything else, there needs to be a balance.

I've heard it said that one day books will be obsolete. That thought saddens me, and I, for one, doubt that will ever be true. I suspect there are several of us who prefer holding a book and savoring the pages, as opposed to reading text online, or via something like Kindle.

My other concern is that we aren't spending near as much time enjoying "face to face" communication. It doesn't seem that long ago when several of my neighbors and I would gather most mornings for a refreshing walk about town. Not only was this a great way to exercise, but it gave us a chance to touch base with each other. Everyone's schedules are so crazy now, we're lucky if we get a chance to wave at each other in passing. I see more of some friends online, than in person.

While I will be forever grateful for the technology that has made keeping in touch easier (I loved being able to receive e-mail from my missionary sons each week, as opposed to waiting for handwritten letters to arrive) it saddens me that so many of us are leaning toward online communication that may or may not be a healthy alternative. People can be deceiving online, taking on a persona totally different from who they really are. I believe it's much easier to discern who someone is when you can actually see their face.

I also think it's important to disconnect from all of the gadgetry periodically and to embrace life around us. We all need to spend more time outside, appreciating the beauty God created for us to enjoy. I think it's sad that so many people are caught up in make believe worlds online and in video games. I enjoy playing games . . . mostly old-fashioned board games or card games that have been family favorites for years. ;) I believe that games of this nature are a healthier alternative and a great way to bring families closer together.

So while I will always be grateful for the technology that has preserved my life (I've been an insulin pump patient for years. Just call me the bionic woman.) I think it's important to balance this progressive technology trend with old-fashioned values that in my opinion are never outdated.

Wedding Bells

2010-08-23T13:17:00.000-07:00

I apologize for not posting lately. Things have been slightly crazy---but good. =) Our youngest son got married a week ago. What a wonderful experience. And now we have yet another daughter to add to our ranks. This means the female to male ratio is increasing in our clan. =D

I figure pictures do indeed speak a thousand words, so I'll post a few that were taken last weekend during the wedding adventure. Devin and Emily were married in the beautiful San Diego Temple. Several of us flew there for the occasion, and a good time was had by all. Welcome to the family, Emily----and good job Devin!!! =)

Here is a shot I took of the San Diego Temple.

Presenting Mr. & Mrs. Devin Crane!

Parents of the groom: Mr. & Mrs. Kennon Crane.

The five of us flew to San Diego for this event: Kennon, Moi, Kris, Verdene, & Bob.

Parents of the bride: Mary Ellen & John Holman posing with Emily & Devin.

Parents of the groom (Kennon & Moi posing with Emily and Devin.)

The wedding party!

Devin hanging out with his best man at the reception.

The fun wedding cake! (It was delicious!!!)

The reception was beautifully decorated. The wedding colors were the colors of the interior of an abalone shell: coral, sky blue, & turquoise.

Emily dancing with her father during the reception.

All in all, it was a wonderful day, and now we're gearing up for the party here in Bennington on September 10th!!! Never a dull moment!

The Case of the Missing Month

2010-08-04T06:11:00.000-07:00

Okay . . . am I the only one who feels like we skipped straight from June to August this summer? ;) Where did July go? I am amazed by how quickly that month disappeared. I would actually like another 30 days before August. All in favor?

I know there were at least 2 family reunions, a couple of camping trips, girls' camp, and wedding preparations for our youngest son going on last month . . . but still---August is really here already? Je suis sure!!! or better yet: Zut Alors!!! (French for "What the crap?!!!" or words to that effect.)

I'm sitting here this morning, looking at my growing list of things I need to accomplish before the end of summer . . . and I'm not sure it's all going to happen. I didn't even get a garden planted this year, which says something, since I always plant a garden.

To make myself feel better, perhaps I'll share a few pictures that may help me discover why the past 4 weeks sped by so fast:

We began the month of July with the annual Crane Clan Reunion. This year we camped at Heise Hot Springs near Kelly Canyon.

A good time was had by all. Here's a shot of Kennon, two of his siblings, and his mommy.

And here's a picture of Kennon's Aunt Marie, and his mother, Verdene. The two sisters don't get together very often, so it was good for them to spend some time together.

On the 4th, we all headed down to see the fireworks display at Idaho Falls. Here's a shot of Kennon's cousins from Oregon: Spencer, Nicki, and Steve.

Kennon and I traveled to the Elkhorn Campground near Palisades after that reunion and camped for a day or two. While Kennon fished, I made new friends.

We then camped for a couple of days at the scenic Cottonwood Lake Campground near Smoot, Wyoming.

Here we met up with some of the members of my family tree who were also there camping that weekend. Pictured are my Uncle Ben, Aunt Judy, and their daughter: Carrie. We had a great time visiting and hanging out.

We also did a little bit of fishing last month. Here Kennon is posing with the fish he caught.

And here I am posing with the fish I caught. ;) What can I say, I am my grandfather's granddaughter. =D [Kennon caught two of the perch and one of the trout pictured. But I caught the rest!!! Brag, brag, and brag some more.]

We also enjoyed Girls' Camp with our stake last month. Here's a shot of our faithful 3 who attended the entire camp this year, plus my 1st counselor, Tricia, and myself.

And here's a shot of just about everyone else who was part of the Bennington experience at girls' camp this year. (A couple of our girls traveled back and forth this year. Also shown is my 2nd counselor, Lanette, and our camp director: Kim.)

This is a shot I'm pretty proud of---possibly the best picture I've taken all summer: a horned owl that happened to glance down at me as I took his\her picture. This is a wild owl that inhabits some cottonwood trees near Menan, Idaho.

We also played at the famed Bear Lake last month. Our son: Derek, daughter-in-law: Kristen, and their tiny daughter, Aari, came up for a fun weekend.

Aari had a good time playing in the sand and water.

She also savored corn on the cob during our lovely grill fest held later that night.

The coolest day of the month\year\decade!!!

So . . . I guess when you look back through the pictures of what took place this past month, it does rather put everything into perspective. July was a blur because we packed so much into those precious weeks. I suspect August will follow suit. ;)

Enjoy what's left of the summer. I know I plan to do just that before the sun sets on the month of August. =D

Making Waves

2010-07-27T06:37:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, following a stressful week, I found myself enjoying the great Bear Lake with some of my family. One of my sons, his wife, and their small daughter, came up to spend the weekend. That break at the lake was very much needed. We took over a picnic lunch, a canopy for shade, and camp chairs to kick back on and relax. But what helped me unwind more than anything else was something I haven't done in years. I ventured out into the lake and bobbed on a plastic flotation device. It was great. I leaned back, enjoyed the slight breeze, and rode the waves while visiting with my son. What a wonderful reprieve from the tension-filled week I had survived.

I did have quite an analogy surface as I lay back, watching the clouds go by. It was much more fun riding the waves as they came in, than to sit on still water. In other words, the friction that caused the waves made for a more entertaining ride. Hmmm. Food for thought.

I will admit there are days when I long for smooth sailing in my life--moments when there are no waves. But what would I be missing if that wish was granted? Would I arrive at the end of my journey and find that I had learned nothing of importance as a result? Enduring large unpredictable waves adds spice and color to our lives. We may not enjoy all of the foaming crests that descend without warning. But there is something exhilarating about learning to ride the waves as they come.

Since my life to this point has been filled to the brim with varied challenges, tests, sorrows, and joys, I suspect that trend will continue until I'm "safely dead," a phrase I'm borrowing from an inspired talk given by a former stake president. The winds of change will continue to bring mountainous waves my way. With God's help, I can learn to ride through all of them until the final breeze fades into stillness. Will waves follow me into the hereafter? Time will tell, but I'm almost certain I won't be basking on still water. I believe there will always be challenges, growth, and learning; what we gain is dependent on the type of journey we desire to make.

Reveling in Revision

2010-07-14T22:28:00.000-07:00

One of the aspects of writing that I surprisingly enjoy is revision mode. I find it interesting how many items I catch when I go through a manuscript with fresh eyes, especially after a space of time. Things that I missed before stand out like a sore thumb. Sentences are strengthened, tightened, and often deleted. Missing words are added. Paragraphs and scenes are plumped out or stretched. Sometimes when extensive editing is required it can be a painful experience. Many times a favorite scene is cut in the best interest of the storyline. But it has been my experience that extensive polishing always makes for a better book down the road.

I suspect there is an analogy in this process for life. We start out fresh, new, inexperienced. It takes years to polish, mold, and tighten our characters. Some traits need to be deleted. Other areas of our lives need a bit of stretching. Enduring the Refiner's Fire is often a painful ordeal, but in the end, we are better for all that we experience. Every stage of life is a new opportunity for growth, learning, and refining. And when it's all said and done, when all of the "revisions" have taken place, we will hopefully be what our Father intended in the beginning.

"Leaning Into the Curves"

2010-07-02T06:05:00.000-07:00

Once in a great while a book comes along that totally mesmerizes me. I begin to read and find that I can't put the thing down. "Leaning into the Curves," written by Nancy Anderson & Carroll Hofeling Morris is one such book.

I was intrigued by reading the back cover which states in part: "Molly is happy with her life the way it is . . . but everything changes when her husband, Hank, retires. She's still trying to adjust to this new phase of life when he brings home a Honda Gold Wing---even though he knows she hates motorcycles!"

I suspect that paragraph captured my attention since this could be a chapter from my own life. My husband is planning to retire in a few years, and he absolutely loves motorcycles. Myself, I possess a healthy fear of those two-wheeled contraptions of death---in part because I nearly died on a motorcycle during my college years. (A looooonnnnnggg story for another day's blog post.)

Consumed with curiosity, I totally devoured "Leaning into the Curves," and absolutely loved it. Well-written, it was a fun, easy read, with a ton of wisdom buried in the pages. Filled with captivating characters and humorous twists that seem to go along with the retirement years, this is a book I will definitely reread again and again. It was so true to life, I found myself agonizing with the main character, Molly, as she struggled with facing her fears as she tried to embrace something that meant so much to her husband, Hank.

When I finally set the book down, I found myself rethinking my husband's attraction to motorcycles. In fact, I think I found a healthy compromise for our own retirement years: Click here for that interesting item. ;) I could see myself riding on this kind of contraption. In fact, on a recent trip to Arizona, we actually found something similar. (See picture below.)

You might be interested to know that the two women who wrote this tome are in fact sisters. Their website is VirtualSisters.net and you can also read their wonderful posts on CrustyOldBroads.blogspot.com. I know I, for one, am a huge fan of their novels. I've read some of their other books (The Company of Good Women series---loved it, too) and hope that they will continue to collaborate on future works.

I'm giving this particular book a 5 star rating (5 being the highest rating possible). I highly recommend it to anyone who enjoys an extremely good read.

"Burning the Candle @ Both Ends"

2010-06-29T05:11:00.001-07:00

So, I meant to compose a blog post yesterday . . . and I simply ran out of time. Again. This seems to happen a lot lately. ;) I made the comment the other day that I wish there were three of me . . . but then I'd probably have 3 times the adventures.

The phrase above came to mind. I think whenever we hear it, we envision someone running faster than they have strength. (Guilty as charged.) I decided to do a little research on this phrase and in current lingo, it means: To live at a hectic pace. That pretty well sums things up in my realm at the moment. So far this summer we've survived 2 weddings, a couple of funerals, and moving my mother to Bear Lake to live. (This was the result of wedding number one.) Last weekend marked the beginning of the traditional reunion bliss. And another reunion lies on the immediate horizon, not to mention another wedding (our youngest son) in August.

Throw in things like girls' camp, (Yep, I'm still the fearless leader in our ward's YW organization), gardening (this includes two flower beds at the church that our YW are in charge of each year), and trying to rewrite the beginning of a manuscript my publisher seems to want---and there just aren't enough hours in the day to accomplish everything.

As I was researching the origins of the ill-fated "burning the candle at both ends" analogy, I discovered that it possessed a very different meaning many years ago. Back in the day, candles were of infinite worth (unlike women, as mentioned in Nancy's blog post, but I digress). The notion of burning the candle at both ends exemplified tremendous waste. For obvious reasons, for a candle to burn at both ends, it has to be held in a horizontal fashion. This causes the candle to drip and burn out quickly. Hmmmmm. I suspect there is a lesson to be learned here. ;)

In my defense, I do try to work in a tiny bit of "me" time here and there. Yesterday I spent "me" time enjoying a much needed massage. Not only does this help immensely with the rheumatoid arthritis I've been blessed with, but it aids in relaxation. I didn't have time for it, but I returned home and enjoyed a short nap. And I noticed that I felt great the rest of the day. No, I didn't accomplish everything on my list of things to do yesterday (like this blog post) but I did tackle those things most important . . . and let the rest go by the wayside.

I suspect that is how I will survive the frantic days ahead. I'm learning the hard way that I have to pace myself . . . a lot. Burning the candle at both ends for me causes untold physical suffering. And when I go down in flames . . . it isn't pretty. I spent a couple of days in a little heap last week when I ignored this wisdom---my body refused to function. I wasn't feeling well, but I forced myself to attend a plethora of meetings (it was that monthly Sunday marathon when I start at 8:15 a.m. for ward council, and end the day around 8:00 p.m. following Youth Council and Bishop's devotional.) I had also worked in the the viewing of my husband's aunt that same night, and paid a huge price the next day. I woke up the next morning feeling like the last chapter. My in-laws were staying with us, and I forced myself into the shower, intent on cooking them a huge breakfast.

Usually I can get away with bossing my body around---not last week. As I dragged myself into the kitchen to fix the afore-mentioned breakfast, my body fought back. I became deathly ill. So much so, I retreated to bed before I hurled all over everything. My in-laws made do with cream cheese and bagels for breakfast.

We eventually learned that I had been fighting a kidney infection last week. Good times. ;) For a day or two, I wondered if I would be around to participate in my son's August wedding.

I'm more than likely writing this post as a reminder to myself that I need to slow down. I want to enjoy future fun times with my cute little granddaughter. (It's my goal to be an influence in her life. Someone has to be around to show her how to make mud pies.) My husband would like to serve a mission with me upon retirement. Lately he emphasizes that this will be easier to do if I remain on this side of the veil. ;) And I want to do things like dance at my youngest son's wedding in August. As such, I will be stepping out of my usual mode and attempt burning the candle at only one end. ;) Words to live by---quite literally.

Weddings & Funerals

2010-06-19T05:17:00.000-07:00

It appears to be a strange phenomenon in our clan to experience the highs and lows of life all in one fell swoop. About 4 years ago, on the day of our second son's reception, a favorite uncle slipped through the veil. We were understandably in shock. One doesn't just cancel a wedding reception mid-stream, however. We forced ourselves through the motions, and tried to make the best of things that night. In fact, our youngest son and one of his friends, in trying to ease hearts, dressed up in their "interesting" Dumb & Dumber tuxedos for the occasion and manned the guest table in place of my m-i-l, who was having a difficult time that night. (It was her brother who had passed away.)

We received some interesting looks from some of our guests, but it did help lighten the mood for those of us who were grieving . . . and yet celebrating. In way of strange coincidences, the spouse of this favorite uncle, a favorite aunt, passed away this week . . . just before a nephew's wedding. So this weekend we are yet again combining a happy celebration, with one that is not so joyous. Ironically, flowers will be featured at both events.

Last weekend, my youngest sister, Trudi, and her beloved (John) tied the proverbial knot. And since they both love all things Celtic (both families have strong ties to Scottish and Irish ancestors) the reception was highlighted with things like kilts, an Irish piper performance, and my sister's wedding dress (made by Shar, a talented woman, and our s-i-l) that featured Celtic symbols.

It was an enjoyable occasion, and yet it too, was laced with a tiny bit of sadness. Since our mother had been living with Trudi, gears were shifted and Mom decided to leave Utah in a permanent fashion. Although this saddened family members living in that area, those of us in Idaho are excited to have her in our midst.

These days, when all around is chaos, I think it behooves us to look for the silver linings that are part of every cloud formation. So this week, while we are saddened by the loss of our aunt, we need to keep in mind the wonderful reunion taking place on the other side of the veil. And tonight, we plan to keep the mood light and fun (I wonder if I can find those silly tuxedos again) at our nephew's wedding reception. Things have a way of eventually turning out for the best. Hearts will heal, and tonight we'll do our best to celebrate life to the fullest. It is the Celtic way. ;)

Old Mother Hubbard Mode

2010-06-09T04:34:00.000-07:00

Like many young children "back in the day," I learned a plethora of nursery rhymes while in my formative years. I often pondered the significance of "Old Mother Hubbard." For those not familiar with this particular tiny poem, it is as follows:

"Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard
To get her poor doggie a bone,
But when she got there, the cupboard was bare
And so the poor little doggie got none."

I always felt sorry for the poor little doggie. As such, I made sure our own family doggies had plenty to eat. ;)

In later years I learned that this simply rhyme had a hidden meaning. It was actually a political statement from the 16th century. (Click here for more information on that.)

I have also come to understand that this poem can also be a voice of warning for those of us who tend to run ourselves into the dirt. That is the angle I wanted to touch on today--the importance of keeping our own personal cupboards stocked.

Lately, it seems like all I do is run in crazy circles and operate Hotel Crane. ;) We have had a lot of family adventures in recent weeks. This past week alone, we have moved my mother to Bear Lake, and later this weekend, my youngest sister will be getting married. It is a crazy time. I have done my best to keep up with everything taking place. I have ignored something very important as a result.

Last night my oldest son commented on my current state of exhaustion. When I pointed out the obvious reasons for this condition, he merely shook his head and asked me when it was I had last done something for myself.

I have always believed in the importance of helping others, especially family and friends who are in need. It's part of my nature to attempt to lift up the hands that hang down . . . except when it comes to myself. Then I tend to shy away, figuring that is inherent to being selfish, which we all know is a bad thing. However . . . for us to be in a position to help others, we do need to keep our own cupboards stocked. It is crucial for us to be whole spiritually, physically, emotionally, and mentally.

My son made me promise that I will do something today that I enjoy. He also pointed out that this is something that I need to do every day to be a "whole" person. I'm beginning to believe he is on the mark with this suggestion. For me to be my best self, the self that can help others, I have to be strong in all aspects of my life. If I'm dragging bottom (don't make fun, it happens when you get to be my age) I'm less likely to be in a position to help others.

So . . . today as I drive to Utah with my mother for the impending nuptials, I will do my best to enjoy myself. I plan to do the following to restock my waning cupboards:

1.) I will appreciate the beauty of nature as we head down to Utah land. This shouldn't be too hard as I have to drive through a couple of canyons along the way.

2.) I will thoroughly enjoy the lunch we are planning to consume with my youngest sister upon our arrival. We're planning to go to a fun little restaurant for this adventure.

3.) I will play with my little granddaughter when we reach my son's abode. And since Aari and I both love to blow bubbles, I predict we'll have a right good time.

4.) I will spend a certain amount of time shopping!!! Always a fun thing . . . even if I'm buying things for other people, like wedding gifts.

Things I have already done: I always start my day with a private moment of prayer, meditation, and scripture study. That stocks my spiritual cupboard for the day. I also enjoy a nice, relaxing bath, which my body loves. This helps me physically. Now normally, I also walk with a friend in the early morning hours before it gets too hot. This helps my physical self get into better shape. ;) I won't get to work in a walk this morning, because of conflicting time schedules, but I will be doing a bit of walking while in shopping mode, so it all works out.

And to fill my mental cupboard, I wrote this blog. ;) I figure anything that makes me use my gray cells is a cool thing. And all of those things I listed above will help me emotionally since they're all items I enjoy. So by the end of today, I should be in fantastic shape for the week ahead. ;)

Take some time for yourself today. Do something you enjoy, whether it's reading a good book, painting a beautiful masterpiece, exercise, or even something as simple as watching the sun rise or set. Then draw in a deep breath and savor the peace. I suspect that's part of how we're all going to survive the crazy days ahead. ;)

Crazy Month!

2010-05-26T20:53:00.001-07:00

Wow, I can't believe how crazy this month has been so far. All kinds of adventures. Some good, some not so good. But here we are at the end of May and we're all still standing. Somewhat. ;) To illustrate my point, I'll share a few pictures that will reveal why I have not spent much time blogging lately. (I will repent soon.)

I've spent quite a bit of time this month playing with my cute little granddaughter. She and her parents recently moved, an adventure we all enjoyed--possibly me more than anyone else. My job was to keep Aari entertained. ;)

We played at the park, played with sidewalk chalk, and even enjoyed exploring the amazing qualities of dirt.

Here Aari is posing with her mommy and daddy in our backyard.

The move was a great success---the weather, not so much. This is the kind of weather we've been enduring all month in Bear Lake. I took this shot just a couple of weeks ago.

Son # 1 (Kris) finished up a round of schooling this past month. The cool drum ceremony pictured above was a fun way of ending the year.

Son # 2 (Derek) received his official diploma after he and Kristen moved. They are now adjusting to their new home, and Derek to his new job. We went down one weekend to see them after they were settled and had a great time.

Here Aari is playing with her daddy and grandpa in the new living room of their home. (The furniture arrived the following week.)

Son # 3 (Devin) found himself engaged this past month to a beautiful young woman named Emily. We are tickled to add her to the fold. (You did well, Devy John!!!) So now we're preparing for 3 weddings this summer, two of which take place next month. (My sister, and a nephew are getting married in June. Devin and Emily will tie the knot in August.)

And since my youngest sister is getting married, my mother has decided to move to Bear Lake, so we've been scrambling ever since to pull things together for her. She wants her own place, and we found her a cute apartment in nearby Montpelier. We're looking forward to having her closer to us now.

So this past month we've seen a lot of fun changes, and some that were not fun at all. In the middle of all of the joyous events, close friends have suffered serious illnesses, their loved ones have endured painful procedures, extended family members are facing heart-wrenching trials, and one friend's son passed away unexpectedly. These are truly the times that try men's and women's souls. And yet, there is always hope for a better day. As such, I look forward to June, knowing both good and bad adventures await. And isn't that why we're in mortal mode? ;)

Transitions

2010-05-13T05:38:00.000-07:00

The other day I heard someone exclaim that they don't like change. I'm sure my jaw hung open over that comment. Life is change. It has been my experience that nothing ever stays the same; I suspect it's part of the mortal experience.

I learned this lesson while quite young---we moved 8 times while I was growing up. This makes for entertaining moments whenever I'm asked about my hometown. Lately I've found that it's easier to express that I've lived all over Southeastern Idaho, and parts of Utah. I consider Ashton, Idaho my hometown, since that's where I graduated from high school.

I have lived in the following places: Roberts, Pocatello, Idaho Falls, Annis, Menan, Ashton, & Montpelier (all of which exist in Idaho), and my family dwelled for a time in Bountiful, Utah when I was in the fourth grade. Now if you were counting, you probably came up with seven moves. Since we moved back to Menan from Bountiful at the end of my fourth grade year, I consider that 8 moves . . . and that doesn't include the move from Montpelier to Bennington after I was married. ;)

Some of the moves were easier than others. I was about three years old when my parents left Pocatello, following my father's graduation from college. (He was a pharmacist.) That is when we moved to Annis. From there it was to Idaho Falls, after my dad completed his internship. Eventually my parents built a home in nearby Menan, and we lived there for a few years. Dad worked for Skaggs Drug in Idaho Falls during this time, then was promoted into management, and transferred to Utah. When he decided he didn't care for managing a large drugstore, we moved back to Menan, to the home my parents had built in that location. Then it was on to Ashton where my father had a chance to manage a small hometown drugstore. So on and so forth.

These moves were true character building moments---especially those that took place when I was approaching teenagehood. That age is difficult enough without the added challenge of repeatedly starting over and being labeled, "the new kid." And yet, I look back and I can see that the challenges that went along with each move helped shape me into who I am today. I learned to adapt to change, since things were rarely the same in my life. So by the time I went to college, I was used to life throwing twists my way. I was homesick for one day. Then I embraced college life and enjoyed every aspect.

One of my closest friends struggled with this experience. A friend of mine since high school, she had lived in the same place her entire life. She fought homesickness throughout our freshman year, and went home every weekend, until the time I hid her car keys. Our other roommates had conspired with me, and we kidnapped my friend, taking her to Jackson, Wyoming that Saturday. We then dragged her to a couple of college adventures that night and the next day. By the end of Sunday night, she was lecturing us for not doing something similar earlier that year. She had thoroughly enjoyed herself, overcoming the homesickness as we had helped her see the fun she was missing each weekend. Too bad there were only a couple of weeks left in what would be a final semester for her.

It has been my experience that life is often like a rollercoaster ride. There are numerous up and downs, and lots of scary stuff in the middle. ;) And yet, if you open your eyes and embrace the ride, there is a thrill not found on the complacent merry-g0-round. Ponder that analogy briefly. ;)

Through the years I have dealt with chronic illness (I've been a Type 1 diabetic since I was 19 and tested positive for lupus a few years after that), deaths of loved ones (a childhood friend passed away when we were in the 5th grade---since then I have lost grandparents, a parent, aunts, uncles, etc.), financial distress, worry over children, etc.

On the plus side, I have earned a college degree, married a wonderful man, given birth to 3 awesome sons, had 9 books published so far, and I held my beautiful first grandchild (a cute little girl) in my arms just minutes after her birth. This positive list goes on and on. There is so much of life that I have loved and savored, and I plan to savor more. I'm sure I'll be one of those who will leave this life kicking and screaming because I haven't sampled everything life has to offer. =D

Life is change. Those two words could be synonymous. If it wasn't that way, life would be stagnant. Reflect upon ponds of water that contain still water. They usually don't smell very nice after a while. This is the direct opposite of a refreshing stream that hurries forward continually. Movement\change is crucial to promoting growth. Not all growth is good\and\or\fun, I will admit, but without it, we would not progress. And how sad would it be someday to stand before our Maker and reveal that we spent our entire time in mortal mode hiding under the bed?!

Here's to enjoying the journey, making the climb, and cherishing each moment as it comes. Face the violent rainstorms with courage---even though the thunder makes us cringe, and the lightening often inspires us to run and hide. The new growth that will take place as a result is something to be appreciated, not feared. (Remind me I said all of this the next time thunderclouds appear in my sky.)

A Four Letter Word

2010-05-05T05:32:00.000-07:00

There are several four-letter words in the English vocabulary. Some of those are considered inappropriate. ;) The four-letter word I'm thinking of today is on the other end of the spectrum: HOPE.

A couple of years ago, we did a fun craft at girls camp and we each made a handy tote bag, utilizing inspiring quotes, bright ribbon, and paints. My bag proudly shares this saying: "With hope, each of us can live a life with peace, faith, and love."

It can be difficult to cling to hope when challenges descend, especially when some trials extend through several years. Those are the moments when we sometimes wonder if our prayers are being heard. What I've been learning lately is that our prayers are always heard, but they are often answered in ways we don't envision. And always, our Father, who sees the entire picture, helps us through, despite our fearing doubts.

Recently we've witnessed some miraculous events in our family. Without divulging details, may it suffice to say that a couple of the challenges have been heart-wrenching. There were days when we wondered if we would survive. And yet we did, sometimes by taking life one day at a time.

When walking a darkened path, it is scary to take a leap of faith. To hope for brighter days when
there is no apparent light. And yet it is during these murky moments when we can prove our mettle. And as the scriptures state, it is often after the trial of our faith that we gain the answers we seek.

So today I am grateful for the knowledge that even when all seems lost, we are not alone. I am overwhelmed by the tender mercies that are extended daily from heaven, especially when we're drowning in dark despair. Though the path ahead may often seem unclear, guidance, comfort, and the peace of heaven can be ours when we use hope as our shield against life's storms.

"I'll Know You By Heart"

2010-04-28T19:19:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I was given the chance to read a novel by a new author, Kimberly Job. When her book arrived, I was intrigued by the cover. I thumbed through the first few pages, and was instantly hooked by the storyline.

This work delves deeply into the troubled world of marital malevolence. Stephanie, the protagonist, has suffered repeated physical and emotional abuse at the hands of her husband, Mark. One night after enduring another severe beating, Stephanie gathers her three children, and flees their home. This time Mark had not only struck her in anger, but he had also hit their teenage son, Tyson, when the young man tried to intervene. Deciding Mark had crossed an invisible boundary, Stephanie seeks solace and safety at her mother's abode. She files for divorce and soon finds a small apartment where she attempts to rebuild a safe life for herself, and her children.

Discouraged after spending several days job hunting, Stephanie eventually lands a position as a receptionist at a pediatrician's office. A natural with children, Stephanie impresses the doctor by her compassionate nature. She quickly learns the skills needed for the business end of this occupation, and she is thrilled by her ability to provide a livelihood for her children. Ranging in ages from sixteen to eleven to seven years old, each child is dealing with a variety of emotions. Stephanie does her best to help them cope, but her two younger daughters don't fully understand all that has taken place, and the eleven-year-old, Maddie, seems especially resentful of the situation.

In the middle of all of this, another character is introduced: Jared. Recently widowed, Jared is struggling with raising his five-year-old daughter on his own. He alternates between extreme grief, disgust, and anger over the way his deceased wife had embraced the dark world of alcoholism. Dying in a car accident while drunk, his wife had never seemed happy in her role of wife and mother. Absorbing enormous pain, Jared is trying to piece his life back together as best he can. Realizing he will need another caretaker for his young daughter, he meets Stephanie at the pediatrician's office, and the two agree to a babysitting arrangement. This will provide Stephanie with much-needed added income, and Jared's daughter with a safe place to stay after school each day.

Just as Stephanie's life seems to be sorting itself out, a dark cloud of fear descends as her soon-to-be-ex-husband discovers where she is now living, and where she works. Mark is determined to be reunited with his family and he resents the time Stephanie spends with Jared. Out of control, he strikes back in a familiar fashion, leaving his family in a nightmare of turmoil and pain.

This is a novel that touts survival despite horrific circumstances. I believe it will do much toward helping those who may be enduring a similar situation and that it will open the eyes of others who do not. Unfortunately, we live in a society where abuse is on the rise, an evil tendency that needs to be eliminated.

I'm giving this novel a thumbs way up. In my opinion the author, Kimberly Job, has written a timely book with an important message. Abuse should not be tolerated in whatever form it surfaces.

You can purchase "I'll Know You by Heart," on this link: Buy this book

And you can read other reviews here: "I'll Know You by Heart"

A Busy Day in the Neighborhood =)

2010-04-21T06:01:00.001-07:00

Wow, the past couple of weeks have flown by. Possibly due to the numerous activities that surfaced for our clan. As such, I figured I would share a few pictures, documenting why I haven't blogged much the past few days:

First, two weeks ago, our son, Derek, graduated from BYU-Idaho as a computer engineer. It was a proud day for all of us, including his lovely wife, Kristen, and their cute little daughter, Aari.

Then last weekend, my husband and I headed to Utah to meet up with some author friends. One of our friends from England, Anna Buttimore, was here for a visit, and we met up at a fun restaurant in Murray for this event. You might recognize a few faces. ;) We had a great visit and a lot of laughs.

Kennon and I also went for a drive up our local canyons to see how much snow still needs to melt. We found out: a lot! =D

This week is looking about as crazy. This morning we're heading to Logan for an eye appointment for me. Then this weekend, we'll drive up to Rexburg to help Derek, Kristen, and Aari move to Utah. (Derek was hired by Hill Airforce Base, so they'll be living in Utah land.) We'll stay down in Utah for the weekend, and head home next Monday. Kris will keep the homestead going for us in our absence.

After that . . . I suspect life will continue to be full of interesting adventures. But in way of good news, as least we're never bored. ;)

Book Review: The Thorn

2010-04-15T05:20:00.000-07:00

I recently read the first book in a new fantasy\speculative fiction series entitled, "The Thorn," by Daron D. Fraley. I've always enjoyed fantasy novels; I cut my teeth on "The Hobbit," when I was about nine years old. =)

The Thorn introduces us to the fictionalized world of Gan, a planet where two suns and multiple moons are commonplace. The first chapter draws the reader into an ongoing conflict between three separate clans, descendants of three brothers: the tribes of Daniel, Gideon, and Uzzah. Daniel and Uzzah are allies, peaceful colonies that fulfill differing roles in their communities. Daniel holds the keys of leadership, Uzzah retains important priesthood keys, and Gideon was supposed to be the protector of both. Instead, Gideon's descendants are full of fury aimed at the clans of Daniel and Uzzah.

Twisted legends handed down from generation to generation have convinced the Gideonites that their neighboring tribes are troublemakers, intent on robbing them of their freedom and their lives. Led by a corrupt emperor, Gideon wages war with their brother tribes, causing untold heartache and pain.

At the beginning of the story, a Gideon war party wreaks havoc in the city of Hasor and slays the king. Moments before his death, the king of the tribe of Daniel implores his son and heir, Jonathan, to protect the Thorn, a scepter symbolic of the Great King, and flee before he is discovered. Jonathan manages to escape to safety, only to later learn that his father has been killed. Grieving, he prayerfully seeks guidance and is led to a small Gideonite war party that holds his longtime friend, Eli, a Uzzahite priest, captive. Jonathan frees his friend, and together, they wipe out the entire war party, with one exception, a young Gideonite who begs for mercy.

Pekah is a young warrior of the tribe of Gideon. He is saddened by the violence he had witnessed and he pledges to serve Jonathan and Eli if they will spare his life. Together, the three young men travel to Ain, a city where Eli's sister, also Jonathan's fiancee, is being held prisoner by a portion of the Gideonite army. As they travel, Eli and Jonathan teach Pekah the truths regarding their brother tribes. They also share their knowledge and conviction of the Great King, who will one day come to Gan to rule and reign in righteousness. Desiring to repent of his former misdeeds, Pekah agrees to be baptized, eager to begin a new life.

The Thorn is a well-written novel of intrigue and symbolism. Readers will note many similarities between the storyline of this new book, and The Book of Mormon. A classic tale of good overcoming evil, I predict this new series will appeal to most readers. You can purchase it by clicking on this link: The Thorn

Also, you can read other reviews of this same book by clicking on this link: http://www.valorpublishinggroup.com/Books/the-thorn-reviews.php

Conference in General mode =)

2010-04-05T14:45:00.000-07:00

Living in a mountain valley as we do, we've come to realize it's important to prepare for those pesky surprise storms that come into our lives on an all too frequent basis. So even though it's April, and in most areas that means spring has sprung, we're still dealing with winter storms. Like the one that descended today.

When today's storm was predicted last night on the news, we figured we would receive 1-2 inches of snow at the most. WRONG!!! In our little town it was closer to 5-6 inches of fresh snow. This made driving into town early this morning quite the adventure. I followed a snowplow down the road that leads from our house to the main road. Then I tried very hard to stay inside the tracks made by the large semi-trucks that pass through our valley. It was still a bit tricky to keep the car on the road. I finally took a detour into nearby Montpelier, thinking it would provide better traction. Au contraire. I slid more on what we call the "8th Street Exit," than I had on the main road. I was nearly 5 minutes late for an appointment, but I did eventually arrive safely.

We do our best to prepare for these surprise storms. The trunk of my car still contains my winter boots, gloves, and earmuffs just in case I get stranded. When I travel a great distance, I also add a blanket, small shovel, and a handy plastic container of kitty litter that provides great traction. I drive slower when the roads are a mess, and allow extra time to arrive at the intended destination.

At home, we make sure we keep plenty of food on hand in case we can't make it into town to pick up groceries. We also keep items like "Snow-melt," and snow shovels handy in case we need to treat icy build up on our sidewalk, porch, and driveway. In short, we try to be prepared, knowing that wintry storms tend to linger in our neck of the woods until closer to June.

This past weekend provided a wonderful opportunity for us to prepare for the physical, emotional, and spiritual storms that may arrive in our lives, unannounced. We never know when a trial lies around the corner. As such, it behooves us to do those things that will fill our spiritual cupboards.

During the past couple of years, I've made it a habit to take notes during stake, and general conference sessions. I write down scriptural references, topics, and anything that stands out to me as important counsel to follow. Then on bad days, when storms descend, I dig out those small notebooks and flip through my notes. I always find solace in those pages, that I tend to keep inside my scripture bag for easy retrieval.

This past weekend we were given a chance to drink deeply from the living waters. How blessed we are to have access to these inspired talks by the leaders of our church online, and soon in magazine form. These messages of hope, love, and guidance can be accessed in a multitude of ways whenever we feel the need. It is my prayer that we will take advantage of this convenience often, preparing ourselves for the times when when storms spring into our lives.

Souls Of Valor

2010-03-27T06:33:00.000-07:00

Today I'm delighted to review a newly released book published by Granite Publishing, "Souls of Valor." This book touches my heart for a myriad of reasons, including the fact that it was written by my baby sister, Trudi Jackson. =) I happen to know the work she put into this novel and she has done a great job of capturing a challenging time during the era that includes World War I and the Flu Epidemic of 1918.

There are two main characters: Elizabeth Randall, and Alex Cannigan. Elizabeth is a young woman from Boston who travels west to a small Idaho community known as Grays Lake. A schoolteacher, she will face the challenge of teaching students in a one-room schoolhouse. While she struggles to adapt to this foreign environment, the other main character, Alex Cannigan, is recovering in an army hospital from wounds he received while fighting in the war. Elizabeth's doctor brother links the two of them as pen pals, hoping to draw Alex out of a state of depression.

Initially, Elizabeth and Alex clash. Elizabeth is a newly baptized member of the LDS Church, and she is full of hope for the future. Alex is jaded by the war and the destruction he has witnessed. A passionate debate ensues as they share what is in their hearts. In time they become friends, but as their relationship develops, a flu pandemic turns Elizabeth's world upside down. The tables are turned as it falls to Alex to help Elizabeth regain her fervor for life.

Filled with intrigue, historic flavor, and a touch of romance, this is a book that most will enjoy. And if you order it now, you will get a great deal. Priced at $16.95, you can currently purchase it for $10.95 if you order it from Granite Publishing now. Click on this link: "Souls of Valor" to learn more details.

Tuning Out the Myriad Voices

2010-03-23T08:38:00.000-07:00

Have you noticed in today's world, that finding silence is quite a challenge? We live in an age where a variety of technological gadgets are plentiful. New inventions are constantly being touted and we suddenly find that we can't live without the Plutonium Bangheadagainstthewallous, or the FracturousEardrummonumentalstereophonic. Etc. ;)

I know I'm seldom without my cell phone. People can reach me wherever I chance to be. Surround-sound TV sets with HD technology bring I-Max sight and sound into our living and family rooms. Computers now fit in the palm of our hands. We twitter, lose face on book, send text messages and blog, not to mention e-mail.

My question is, when do we take time to ponder life's mysteries? With all of this noise taking place and following us wherever we chance to roam, when and where do we draw the line on behalf of serene calm?

Maybe I'm different than most (and I've been told that my entire life . . . I'm not sure it was ever a compliment now that I think about it, but I digress) but I crave silence. I like time alone to think and ponder. I do my best writing when the house is silent, which explains my early morning writing sessions. That time of day, most people are still asleep. I'll wake up around 3:00 or 4:00 a.m. and have the best ideas ever for a new scene for whatever book I'm working on. I've learned that if I ignore the ideas when they surface, rolling over in bed to pull the pillow over my face, that inspiration fades by light of day.

I suppose this craving for peace and quiet is why I love going to the temple. What an opportunity for spiritual solitude. If people speak at all, it's done in whispers, encouraging a reverent oasis. Cell phones are to be shut off and preferably left in the car. I always leave that sacred place feeling edified.

At home, when I'm the only one there, I very rarely turn on any kind of techno-gadget, with the exception of the computer. And that is when I get the most work done, whether it's with regard to a manuscript, a blog post, polishing recently taken photos for a future DVD, or to prepare a lesson for YW---the realm where I'm currently serving.

There are also times when I crave what I call a "water moment." I grew up around impressive bodies of water, and this may be why when I start feeling bogged down by life, I'll climb inside my car and go for a little jaunt. In the area where I live, I don't have to travel too far to find a quiet place of beauty near a lake, a waterfall, or a small creek where I can sit and contemplate all that is troubling me. I always come away feeling refreshed.

I suspect finding quiet times is important in today's noisy world. We are constantly bombarded by music, ring-tones, twittering, etc. I think there is a portion of ourselves that is screaming out for silence. So today, I challenge all of you to find moments of peace. Your inner self will thank you someday. ;)

Socks for the Homeless

2010-03-12T09:40:00.000-08:00

LDS Author Tristi Pinkston is sponsoring a worthy endeavor to gather sock for the homeless. It is a project tied to her latest book, "Secret Sisters," which is being released on March 16th.

Check out the details on this blog post:

Secret Sisters

A Little Foggy on the Grand Canyon

2010-03-10T14:57:00.000-08:00

Wow, the past week flew by. True, we had a few adventures, including a major surgery for my mother-in-law last Monday (March 1st). She got out of the hospital yesterday and is currently recovering at my abode.

Two days after the surgery took place, Kennon and I headed south, on our way to Arizona. We had planned this trip earlier, before we learned that my m-i-l was going under the knife, and when things seemed to work out okay for Kennon's mother, we followed through on our original plan.

We wanted to get away from the winter weather that thrives in our neck of the woods for lo these many months, and I wanted to see a dear friend who lives in Arizona. So we headed out on Wednesday night (March 3rd.)

We met up with some good friends in Brigham City for dinner later that night. (Great to see you, Shelley Clan!) Then we drove down to Provo, where we stayed the night. The next morning, we left Provo, on our way to Las Vegas.

As we traveled along, we received text messages from family and friends, verifying that the weather was turning nasty up in Idaho. We snickered and sent them a picture I captured with my camera phone of the beautiful blue sky we were enjoying. They were jealous. But we shouldn't have bragged. As we approached Cedar City, we hit a blizzard of huge proportions. So within minutes we went from this:

To this lovely state of things:

And it didn't let up until we reached St. George. We pulled into a rest stop and were stunned by the accumulation of snow in that location.

In St. George, we saw a huge shift in the weather. It changed from a horrid snowy mess to almost blue sky. (My arthritis loved this game. For those who don't get what I'm saying, changes in weather conditions tends to aggravate arthritis joy. I felt somewhat like a yo-yo. Good times!)

Vegas was sooo warm! We loved it! Hated the graphic porn trash that seemed evident everywhere, but loved the warm temperature. (Vegas is no longer family friendly, something I had heard a couple of years ago. The last time Kennon and I ventured this direction, Las Vegas was still catering to families. My how times have changed.)

We stayed in the Excalibur motel and after checking in, we went to see some positive attractions that are still available in sin city. We started with the Mandalay Bay Aquarium, where we saw a plethora of fishies and other assorted water creatures.

We also walked around the famed "strip" and savored places like M & M World [okay, I was the one who savored M & M World. Kennon tolerated it. ;)]

and Bellagio where we enjoyed the dancing fountains.

The next morning, we left Las Vegas and drove over Hoover Dam and waved at Lake Mead.

This is where we entered Arizona! Way cool!

We linked up with Kerry & Gary in Chino Valley and had a wonderful time exploring nearby Prescott. Here Kerry is showing me that snow really does exist in Arizona.

After enjoying a collection of historic buildings in Prescott, and a handful of fun antique stores, we headed to The Palace, a fun historic restaurant located on the famed "Whiskey Row." The food was wonderful, the atmosphere was charming, and the conversation was lively.

We met up the next day and headed out for a fun sight-seeing adventure. Kerry and Gary were great tour guides. First we travled down to Black Canyon City, stopping to see the famed saguaro cactus. We learned that this particular cactus only grows in one section of Arizona, and they are only found in the state of Arizona, and in Mexico.

Next we headed to Verde Valley to what is known as Montezuma's Castle. There we saw really neat Indian ruins located in the cliffs. This is where the Sinagua tribe once lived.

After we spent quite a bit of time exploring this beautiful valley, we grabbed a bite of lunch, and then journeyed to a wonderful ghost town called Jerome. It was once a mining community. The mine closed years ago and it's a fun place to visit, complete with historic sites and touristy shops filled with treasures. It reminds me of a combination of Lava (Idaho), Jackson (Wyoming), and Park City (Utah).

All too soon, it was time to leave Kerry and Gary in Chino Valley. (Love you guys--and thanks again for EVERYTHING!!!) And off we ventured toward the infamous Grand Canyon. This was a place that neither of us had ever seen before and we were excited. Kerry had warned that northern Arizona can be hit with wintry storms this time of year, and she was right. We had only spent about 20 minutes admiring the "deep hole" as Kerry calls it, when disaster struck. A winter storm descended, and the canyon filled with fog so thick it could have been cut. ;) Nice.

So we went from seeing impressive views like this:

To this:

Je suis sure! Or in other words, less than cool!!! Murphy's Law hit us with a fury. Sigh . . . But it was still beautiful, and as we journeyed home, we continued to see wonderful things like this:

And this:

Bottom line, I fell in love with Arizona this past week. What a scenic, beautiful state. And I am extremely grateful for the chance we had to journey down that way. I'm already plotting for future adventures down the road. ;)

Book Review

2010-03-02T08:12:00.000-08:00

I've been asked to review a book that is being released on April 1st of 2010. As you can see from the picture above, it is a work by the late, W. Cleon Skousen entitled, "The Cleansing of America," published by Valor Publishing.

To be honest, I had never heard of this author. (Don't make fun. Just because everyone else I've talked to knew all about him, that doesn't mean I'm lacking in the gray cell department.) To atone for my lack of knowledge, I did a little research. I learned the following:

1) Cleon was born in Canada in 1913, and grew up in Canada, Mexico, and California. His parents were United States citizens, but they had been asked to help settle an LDS colony in the Alberta area of Canada. The Skousen family lived on a dry farm in that location. When he was older, Cleon spent time in Mexico, helping an ill grandmother who was part of the Mormon colony in Colonia, Juarez.

2) He served an LDS mission to Great Britain in 1930.

3) He attended San Bernadino Jr. College in California. He later attended George Washington University Law School in Washington D.C. and graduated in 1940 with a Juris Doctor (JD) law degree.

4) He served as an United States government aid in Washington D.C.

5) He married Jewel Pitcher in 1936. They had 8 children.

6) He served as an FBI agent for 16 years.

7) He was asked to join the Brigham Young University faculty in 1951 where he served as head of the Student Alumni organization. He also taught religion courses at this same university from 1967 until his retirement in 1978.

8) He served as police chief of Salt Lake City for four years.

9) His first book was published in 1958, "The Naked Communist." He went on to publish numerous other books and several of his speeches were recorded. Most of these are still available on this website.

10) In 1972, he organized "The Freeman Institute," a non-profit educational foundation, which held seminars to teach youth about the Constitution of the United States.

11) Cleon lived to be almost 93 years old. He passed away 11 days shy of this achievement in 2006.

Cleon Skousen left an unpublished manuscript with his family, instructing them to seek its publication when the time was right. This is the book entitled: "The Cleansing of America." Based on years of research, this book lists the prophecies made about the latter-days, and Brother Skousen's opinion of what will take place as a result.

It is an interesting work, and I believe it will inspire many to seek out and study the prophecies for themselves. It is obvious that Brother Skousen has put tremendous effort into this final book. Borrowing from the preface: "The Cleansing of America," is the culmination of several years of research, writing, and speaking on the subject of prophecy and the latter days relative to the United States."

I would add one cautionary bit of advice: If you're like me at all, some of the things predicted for the future sound downright scary. However, I firmly believe that we will be watched over and protected, according to the heed we give important standards and commandments. I also believe that if we'll observe the counsel given to us by our prophet, and other general authorities, as well as our inspired local priesthood leaders, we will be guided in knowing how best to prepare for the days ahead. Remember always that faith and fear cannot reside within the same heart.

In a Two-Horse Open Sleigh

2010-02-25T09:53:00.000-08:00

We experienced quite an adventure this past week--a hay-wagon ride out to a nearby snow-hill. It was a group activity for the youth of our ward and the leaders of the deacons had decided it was time for a little outdoor fun. (Their group was in charge of this activity.)

The challenge was the freezing temperature. For a couple of days, it had hovered below zero. It was somewhat warmer the night of the wagon adventure, but not much. A few brave souls still gathered at the church anyway, most of us dressed like a character from "A Christmas Story."

Despite the chilly temp, we still had a lot of fun. We met out at a local dairy, and climbed aboard an open hay wagon. Bales of straw had been set in place on top of the wagon for our riding comfort.

Two larger sleds were attached behind the wagon and the even braver souls among us, took turns riding on them. They were dumped out along the way, but seemed to enjoy the spontaneous spills into the snow.

Finally we arrived at our destination near a good-sized hill of snow. Everyone unloaded and helped carry off the containers that had been stashed. These were filled with refreshments for later on, and included a butane stove to warm the hot chocolate.

Earlier, a farmhand had lashed several large posts and slats in place, forming a tall teepee This was lit on fire after our arrival and it formed an impressive bonfire. This aided in keeping everyone warm.

Then most of the youth grabbed their respective sleds and headed for the hill. It proved to be a thrilling ride for them. The cold temperatures had effectively crusted the snow. As the kids came down off the hill, most went flying . . . and loved it. Only one disgruntled deacon returned to the fire grumbling about the cold weather, a few bumps and bruises, etc. He was shamed into trying the hill again by some of his peers and leaders, and he had a wonderful time. ;)

Later, we all gathered around the fire for the much-needed hot cocoa and doughnuts. And about the time we decided to head home, our fire collapsed. The good news is that no one was hurt. The interesting news is that it resembled an art-form featured at this year's Winter Olympics in Vancouver. We took it as a sign that we had done well that night. ;)

Friends and family will be delighted to know that I, for once, was not injured in any fashion during this adventure. Everyone was proud of my accomplishment. =D I mostly wandered around, taking pictures, minding my own business. See, miracles can happen! ;)

What a fun blast from the past. During these days of hurry and scurry, it's a refreshing change to savor an enjoyable pastime from days gone by. We loved the wagon ride home, and I, for one, was sad to see this adventure end.

If there are any lessons to be learned from this experience, I think it would be to reflect on what was missed by those who didn't participate. Taking the easy way out isn't always the best thing. Sometimes you glean grand opportunities by going the extra mile and risking a little discomfort. Remind me I said that. ;)

That's a Lot of Bull . . . or Why Cheri Should Stay Away from Rodeos

2010-02-17T07:43:00.000-08:00

So there I was, minding my own business, watching a miniature bull rodeo. It was a first for me, something my husband has been after me to witness for quite some time. One of his co-workers owns a herd of miniature bulls and he takes them around to various rodeos for youngsters. Kennon has attended at least one of these youth-oriented rodeos during the past year, and he couldn't say enough good about it.

Last weekend, one of these events was taking place near where we were staying in Blackfoot, in an indoor arena in Pingree, Idaho and we decided to attend. The miniature stock was provided by Casperson's Miniature Rodeo Bulls owned by Kennon's friend\co-worker.

It was interesting to watch. As a mother of all boys, I did my share of wincing as each young lad climbed aboard one of these feisty beasts. ;) Several boys were launched into the air, but only one seemed to limp for a while, after the bull he was riding rammed the poor kid's knee into a post. But in true cowboy fashion, he shook off the injury and insisted on another ride. Go figure.

People who know me well are stunned when I forget to bring along one of my trusty cameras while traveling. =) Well, I totally spaced bringing one with me last weekend. As I sat watching the miniature bull adventure, I found myself wishing I could snap a few photos. Then it occurred to me that I did have a small camera nestling inside my purse . . . my cell phone.

"Eureka," I thought as I pulled it out. Anyone familiar with using a cell phone camera knows that they come with certain limitations. Despite this, I was determined to get at least one good picture. I stood up in front of where I had been sitting in a camp chair and aimed the cell phone camera at the arena. I found that I couldn't zoom in very close at all from that location, so I moved closer. Pretty soon I was standing next to one of the metal panels that formed the rodeo arena. If I stuck my arm through the opening between the metal bars, I could zoom in closer for a better picture. My next challenge was holding still enough to take a clear shot, which is rather tough to do with a camera phone.

I took several shots, most of them a blurry mess since my chosen subjects refused to hold still. Wanting to get at least one good shot of the miniature bulls, I tried again, this time bracing my body against the metal panel. Finally I was taking shots I figured I could send to my sons later on, showing them what we had done for entertainment that weekend.

The miniature bull bucked and performed nicely for me, and the rider was still attached. The bull moved closer to where I was standing and I silently cheered, knowing I was getting another good shot. This is the picture I snapped just before the silly thing plowed into the panel where I was standing:

Yep, suddenly I was the one who was launched into the air. It all happened so fast, I wasn't sure what had taken place. One minute I was taking the bull's picture, and the next thing I knew, I was flying end over end backwards. I managed to hit into a space-heater along the way, effectively knocking it over. Nice.

Amazingly, I wasn't seriously injured, aside from my pride. Everyone who saw my graceless moment, roared with laughter when they saw that I was okay. My sister-in-law helped to break my fall, and dusted me off as I stood up. The next problem was the space-heater which was lying face-down in the dirt. People were freaking out about that, and I felt bad, knowing I was the one who had knocked it flat. So I reached to pick it up, and discovered that it was extremely hot. The good news is I only burned two fingers while trying to straighten it into place. And the heater wasn't damaged.

A few bruises formed for me later on, and I had popped a rib out of place compliments of that little adventure, but all in all, I was lucky. From what everyone told me who witnessed this event, I really could have been hurt\and\or\burned.

I know this, despite the small size of these critters, they pack a wallop, and they are to be respected. Or as my mother was always telling me as I was growing up, "Good things come in small packages." ;)

Oh, The Saints Marched Right On In!

2010-02-08T10:17:00.000-08:00

Okay, I'll confess . . . not only did I watch last night's Superbowl game, but I've become a huge Saints fan the past few years. So if you are acquainted with what happened during last night's game, you'll know that it was a great moment for anyone who loves the New Orleans' Saints. (For those who didn't see that game, the Saints won against the highly favored Colts team, 31—17.)

For years I had never been much into football. Then my youngest son insisted on participating in this sport all through middle school and high school. He was the shortest center our high school team had ever featured in that position, and earned a couple of awards for his efforts. (His nickname was Mighty Mouse.) I spent most of his games covering my eyes whenever he went up against players who were twice his size. I'll never forget the freshman game when someone tapped me on the shoulder and told me to watch the game. I had closed my eyes because my son was up against a huge giant of a kid, someone who weighed around 300 pounds and stood at well over 6 feet tall. My son weighed 120 pounds if he was lucky and was about 5' 3” at the time. You can understand my dismay. Devin was going against this guy on offense and defense. As a result, I brandished my purse a great deal and threatened to swing it while marching out into the fray.

When people kept insisting that I pay attention to what was taking place during that game, I looked out onto the field, and saw that my son had hold of the giant's leg. The guy was literally dragging my son along as he hurried toward the goalposts with the football. Devin refused to let go. When the rest of the team saw how hard Devin was trying to hold onto that huge receiver, they ran after both players and helped Devin bring the guy down, preventing him from scoring another touchdown.

I felt like I was watching a similar struggle last night. The Colts came out, anticipating an easy win. And they quickly made the first few points---the score was 10 to 0. My husband, who is an avid Colts fan, was ecstatic and told me to not feel bad when my team lost. When I informed him that a certain lady hadn't sung yet, he just grinned.

Then suddenly, the Saints came alive, and they played their hearts out. They ran plays that caught the Colts totally off-guard. And they won!!! I'm still grinning. ;)

I should explain. I spent two weeks in New Orleans when my husband was sent there on a special assignment for his company. We arrived nearly a year after Katrina had wreaked havoc and what I saw has forever touched my heart. Not only did I fall head over heels in love with the area, which is gorgeous, but I came to have a healthy respect for the residents who were determined to rebuild. I saw boundless courage and raw optimism. I witnessed firsthand some of the heartbreaking damage that had occurred in that area, and the outpouring of civic pride as strangers helped each other out as best they could.

The Saints football team helped a great deal with the effort to rebuild. And their success has meant the world to people who have lost so much. So yes, I cheered for them all night long, impressed with their tenacity despite the odds. Their win is a win for their city, a place of triumph and endurance where the historical theme of joie de vivre (joy of living) is inherent in their ability to survive challenging trials. I suspect there is a lesson in there somewhere for all of us.

Forward Ho!

2010-02-02T08:36:00.000-08:00

Have you ever noticed in life that interesting things happen at the most inconvenient times? This week has been a refresher course in this particular subject, at least for me. Among other things, just as my ward YW presidency prepared to meet with our stake YW leaders on Sunday, following ward conference, my blood sugar tanked in a dramatic fashion. Nice. For those of you who are not diabetic, this means my blood sugar level dropped drastically, causing an insulin reaction. The only way to remedy this situation is to consume carbs quickly to bring it back up.

So while everyone watched, I ran a quick check with my blood sugar meter to see exactly how low it had dropped, as I simultaneously unwrapped small pieces of candy that I keep in my purse for this very reason. When the number confirmed what I was experiencing, I hurriedly ate the candy, apologizing to everyone for this slight delay. My first counselor helpfully dug out some glucose tablets she keeps with her (one of her family members is also a diabetic) and she offered a couple of them to me. It all helped, but I felt totally humiliated. So I used humor to ease things for everyone. I knew they were nervous about what I was enduring, so I made light of the reaction, assuring them all that my brain cells would begin to function again soon. (It takes about 20 minutes to feel like a person after experiencing a reaction. I can usually bluff my way through after about 5-7 minutes.)

Everyone there was really good about that embarrassing episode, but it made me sigh internally. I had been planning for this meeting for a couple of weeks. We had spent quite a bit of time decorating our YW room in time for this annual visit from our leaders. (We were going to do it anyway, their visit just gave us an added initiative.) And we had important concerns to discuss. They had important new information to share. Then Murphy's Law took over the reins. I had even run a check on my blood sugar shortly before this meeting took place, and it had appeared to be okay. ;) C'est ma vie! (Such is my life!)

Yesterday I woke up feeling like the last chapter, with a raw throat, dizzy head, the works. It was an "aha!" moment. When I'm catching a bug, my blood sugar will bounce all over the place. No wonder I had put on such a performance the day before. =D

Yesterday morning, my oldest son also experienced a character building moment. He had to be to work by a certain time and he ran out the door about fifteen minutes before he needed to arrive. Normally, this would give him plenty of time. However, the weather surprised us all. During the night, about 8 inches of new snow fell in our realm. And when the snowplow went by to clear the snow from the road, it left about a two foot barrier all around my son's car, which he keeps parked out in front of our house.

After assessing the situation, he asked for help, and he was stuck with me. ;) Still feeling like I couldn't punch my way out of a paper bag, I threw on my coat and headed out the door. He asked me to climb inside his car to drive while he pushed. This proved to be a fruitless endeavor. Then our neighbor showed up with his trusty truck, equipped with a snow-blade, and saved the day. After we threw a blanket over the back of my son's car for protection, our neighbor pushed it through the snow and onto the road. We thanked him profusely, and my son hurried to work. He had already called to let them know he would be a few minutes late, and all was well.

It wasn't the way he had envisioned his morning. ;) I suspect the lesson for the week is that life rarely turns out the way we think it should. It's like a mystery novel; there will always be plot twists and turns. Evidently, these adventures are good for us. I know when I look back over my life, it is those unexpected twists and turns that have shaped my character the most. I think we learn more from unanticipated challenges, than those we painstakingly prepare for. That's when we truly see what we're made of, down deep inside.

When tornadoes hit our life, we show our true mettle. And I think in the long run, it's our attitudes that will matter most . . . how we reacted to the trials that were unpredictable. It will also count how we treated the people around us during the adventure, and how we continue forward when it's all said and done. It is tempting sometimes to place a paper-bag over our heads and pretend we're no longer in existence when things don't go our way. It takes a lot of courage to press on, despite our humiliating character building moments. (And yes, that is my cute little granddaughter in the picture above that is representing this concept.)

So this is my note to self for this week: try to be a sport even when my ducks are no longer all in a row. ;) Perhaps this is the best course for self-improvement. =D

The Unsinkable Molly Brown

2010-01-25T06:41:00.000-08:00

My family has always enjoyed musical productions. We love to watch classic movie musicals. One of our favorites is "The Unsinkable Molly Brown," starring Debbie Reynolds. This movie is based on the life of Margaret Brown, who was known as the Unsinkable Molly Brown after her heroic efforts in helping some of her fellow passengers survive the traumatic sinking of the Titanic.

My siblings and I nicknamed our mother Molly Brown quite some time ago. To be honest, the challenges our mother has faced in her life are numerous and overwhelming. Here is a sampling:

A few months before my mother was born, her brother Jimmy died in a tragic accident at the age of seven. A passing motorcycle spooked the horses a crippled uncle was driving, and Jimmy was thrown from the milk-wagon, dying instantly when his neck snapped. My grandmother was understandably devastated and she was placed on high-powered medication to ease her through this difficult time. My grandfather was told that the baby his wife was carrying would be stillborn as a result.

No one was more shocked than my grandfather when my mother was placed in his arms a few months later. Not only was she alive and kicking, but she demanded immediate attention and a name. My grandfather dubbed her Genevieve, after his own mother.

Following her amazing start in this mortal realm, Genevieve lived a fairly normal childhood on a ranch in Star Valley, Wyoming. After graduating from high school, she went on to attend Ricks College in Rexburg, Idaho. That is where she met my father who was preparing to become a pharmacist. The two were married on August 5, 1959 in the Idaho Falls Temple. They spent their honeymoon in Yellowstone Park, and were in fact camping near Hebgen Lake, washing their car in that infamous lake just a couple of days before the earthquake. Luckily for them, they had left the area before disaster claimed several lives.

They moved to Pocatello where my father attended ISU, intent on earning his degree in pharmacology. About a year later, he developed Guillain-Barre Syndrome and was paralyzed from the neck down. This was the same time my mother found out she was expecting me. What a joyous time in their lives. ;) As my maternal grandfather later stated, "What the @#%$!! else is going to go wrong?"

It would take my father a year to recover from this debilitating condition. Gradually he regained the use of his limbs. During his recovery, they moved into a tiny trailer next door to his parents who lived in Roberts, Idaho. Dad's parents wanted my mother and father to give up their dreams of college and remain there on the family farm. My mother locked horns with her father-in-law and let him know in a big-time hurry that they were going back to Pocatello to finish school. And they did just that. My father graduated from ISU in 1964 and became a full-fledged pharmacist, my mother cheering him on every step of the way.

When I was about 3 years old, my mother brought home a baby brother for me to play with. She found out a week later that she had developed blood clots in one leg as a result and she spent several days down, relying on her mother to tend my brother and me. Mom survived that scary time, and went on to have 2 more children. Her leg filled with clots again during her final pregnancy and she was bedridden for most of that challenging time.

A few years after my youngest sister arrived on earth, my mother developed lupus. She has endured years of chronic pain from rheumatoid arthritis, and other fun-filled adventures as a result. She has faced it all bravely and continued forward, setting a wonderful example of perseverance for everyone who knows her.

About a year and a half after I married, my father took his own life. This would prove to be one of the most difficult challenges that any of us would ever face. Dad had been suffering from a rare liver disease and when he died, he was not himself. This knowledge helped somewhat, but his departure from this world still left gaping heart wounds.

After Dad's death, my mother said that she was tempted to pull the covers over her head and never set foot outside of her bed. Instead, she moved to Wyoming to piece her life back together. Two of her daughters were still in high school, and her son wanted to serve a mission for the LDS Church.

Not knowing how she was going to survive the days ahead, Mom placed her faith in God that things would work out . . . and they did. Childhood friends of my father asked if they could send my brother on a mission in Dad's memory. It wasn't easy for my mother to step aside and allow this to take place, but she did. She and my two sisters learned how to repair the family car in his absence, as Tom served a mission in Montreal, Canada.

While my brother served in the mission field, my mother and sisters moved to Logan, Utah. Mom wanted to live in a college town, hoping that my brother and sisters could secure a college education. Shortly after her arrival in Logan, Mom attended a technical college with one of my sisters, graduating as the valedictorian of her class. After that, Mom worked as a dental assistant to help provide for herself and her kids who were still at home. And just as she had wished, all of her children attended college.

Mom worked hard for several years, then retired when complications from lupus surfaced. She turned 70 this past weekend, and we gathered together to celebrate her life. While her health isn't the best, she continues to take each day as it comes, pressing forward despite the obstacles that hinder her path. She is indeed a remarkable woman, and an example of fortitude. I have no doubt that she will continue to help everyone around her to survive the "Titanics" that surface without warning. Her legacy of courage and compassion will ease hearts and minds as we all strive to survive the challenging times ahead.

You Know It's a Monday When . . .

2010-01-11T12:46:00.000-08:00

It seems for years I've heard people complain about Mondays. Monday signals the end of the weekend and for most of us, that means back to the grind, etc. This can often be a daunting thought. And interesting things tend to happen on the first day of the week. Take today for example. I showed up an hour early for an appointment. The sweet young things behind the counter looked at me like I was totally senile. These are the moments that keep us humble. ;)

Last Monday I went grocery shopping and after unloading my cart, I realized I had left my wallet out in the car. Nice. Maybe I am senile. ;)

Songs have been written about the illustrious day known throughout the world as Monday. Here are some familiar lyrics by John Phillips of "Mamas & Papas" fame:

Monday Monday, can't trust that day,
Monday Monday, sometimes it just turns out that way
Oh Monday morning, you gave me no warning of what was to be
Oh Monday Monday, how could you leave and not take me.

Every other day, every other day,
Every other day of the week is fine, yeah
But whenever Monday comes, but whenever Monday comes
You can find me cryin' all of the time.

And there are numerous cartoons depicting the joy . . . or lack thereof of Monday:

So for today's blog post, I'm venturing two questions:

1) What can we do to make Mondays a more enjoyable time?

2) What are some of your favorite Monday faux pas?

P.S. Can I just say that it's awesome trying to be intelligent enough to write blog posts on Monday? =D