Jesus, My Savior

A long time ago, long before remembering, my spirit was born in heaven. I lived there, with Heavenly Father and Heavenly Mother, and you. They taught me how to be like them, but I couldn't learn everything, or be completely like them, because I was only a spirit. I didn't have a physical body.

Eventually, Heavenly Father called us all together and presented a beautiful plan, a plan of happiness. He told us that He would create an earth where we could come to live, receive a body, and learn. During the time we lived on earth we wouldn't be able to remember heaven or our Heavenly Parents, because He wanted to give us a real chance to become like Him. If we could remember everything from pre-earth life, we really wouldn't have a chance to do things on our own, and learning, real learning, comes from experience.

The problem with getting a body and learning how to use it, though, was that we would make mistakes in the process. We all wanted to come home to Heavenly Father eventually, after we had learned as much as we could on the earth, but to live with Him eternally we had to be like Him, and He is perfect. So Heavenly Father proposed that He would send His oldest son to earth to become a mediator, a Savior, to atone for our mistakes, imperfections, and sins. His name was Jehovah, Jesus, and He was just like our Heavenly Father, perfect, so He, and He alone, could perform the atonement.

We had another brother, Lucifer, who proposed a different plan. He suggested that Father allow him to be our savior, instead. He said he would force all of us to be perfect while we were on earth, so that when we returned to heaven we would be able to live there. In return, he wanted the glory.

Heavenly Father rejected Lucifer's plan. Even though it would insure eternal life with Heavenly Father to every one of us, if we were forced to be perfect, we wouldn't really be like Him. The two plans were discussed in heaven. Some of our family thought Lucifer's plan sounded good, after all, we wouldn't have to worry about anything if we followed it, and we would all be assured a place in heaven. The rest of us, though, wanted the agency to make our own choices, to learn and grow, and eventually learn how to become like our Heavenly Parents. There was a war in heaven. Two-thirds of our family chose Heavenly Father's plan, and Lucifer was cast out of heaven to become the devil. He and his followers were denied the privilege of getting a physical body and living on earth. He determined to ruin the Father's plan, then, by keeping the rest of us from learning and becoming like God.

Heavenly Father sent Jehovah, and another of our brother's, Michael, to create an earth where we would live. After it was made, Heavenly Father created a body for Michael, whose name was changed to Adam, and placed him here on earth. Then Heavenly Father and Jehovah created a woman to be a help meet for Adam. He called her name Eve.

A beautiful garden was planted in Eden for them, where they could live happily with everything they needed. A veil was placed over their minds so they didn't remember heaven, but while they lived in the Garden of Eden they walked and talked with God. He commanded Adam and Eve to multiply and replenish the earth, to have children. He also told them they could eat from all the trees in the garden, but there was one tree, the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, whose fruit He warned them against.

“If you eat that fruit, you will die,” He told them.

Satan, wanting to thwart God's plan, came to the garden and tempted Adam and Eve to eat the fruit from this tree.

“You won't die if you eat it,” he told Eve. “You will gain knowledge though and become like God, being able to chose good or evil for yourselves.”

Eve chose to eat the fruit, even though it meant she would have to face good and evil, and eventually die. She knew it was the only way she would be able to progress with Adam, have children, and eventually return to live with Heavenly Father. Adam agreed with Eve that it was the best choice, and ate as well.

Like God warned, because of this choice they had to leave the garden of Eden, and eventually they died. Before that, though, God taught them that through the atonement of Jesus Christ, they could repent and be forgiven, their spirits would be reunited with their bodies, and they would be resurrected and they could return to live with Heavenly Father again.

Adam and Eve were blessed with children, and eventually, like they had been warned, they died. Their children multiplied and peopled the earth. They were taught the commandments of God to keep them safe and happy and help them learn to become like Him. Some chose to follow His plan, others didn't.

Four thousand years later, in the meridian of time, God sent his Son, Jehovah, to earth. He was born of Mary, in Bethlehem. Joseph was her husband, but not the Savior's father. Heavenly Father was his literal, physical father, thus he was the only person born on earth with a mortal mother and an immortal father. Because of this, he had power over life and death.

Jesus is the only person who lived a perfect life. He was born a baby, grew, learned, and progressed from grace to grace, but He was sinless. He taught his followers the commandments and showed them the way to live, the way to be like Heavenly Father. Jesus had many disciples, but others hated him and were threatened by his teachings, so they planned his death. Jesus knew that to give us the gift of the atonement and resurrection, He had to die, but first He had to pay the price, to suffer, for our sins, imperfections, weaknesses, mistakes, pains, hurts, and sadness.

In the Garden of Gethsemane, in a way that no man can totally comprehend, understand, or fathom, Jesus paid the price for you and for me, so we can go home. The agony was so awful that even He, a God, had not anticipated how bad it would be. He asked His Father to save him from the awful pain, if it was possible, but, if not, he would proceed. There was no other way, only perfect Jesus could pay the price for you and for me, so Jesus atoned for us. It was so awful, it hurt so much, that he bled from every pore.

Then, to complete the atonement, Jesus was taken, tried illegally, and condemned to death. He was crucified by wicked men, but He did not have to die. Jesus was mortal, so he could die, but because God is His father, he was also immortal. Jesus chose to die on Calvary, so that He could brake the bands of death, so we can be resurrected.

His lifeless body was placed in a tomb, sealed and guarded by Roman soldier, but on the third morning he rose. His spirit took possession of his body once more, and unlike the people He restored to life during his ministry, He will never die again. He was resurrected, and because He was, I will be, too. He atoned for my sins, so if I repent and follow His commandments, one day I can stand in front of my Heavenly Father, clean and pure and perfect, and I will be able to live with Him for eternity. He experienced my pains and sorrows, so He knows how to comfort me perfectly, because He understands.

Jesus is my Savior, my Redeemer, my God. He atoned for me, and I owe Him everything, especially my love.

To Fill the World With Love

When I was a teenager I fell in love with the musical, Goodbye, Mr. Chips, starring Peter O'Toole and Petula Clark. Perhaps it wasn't the most theatrically sophisticated movie of all time, but it made me feel good, and I loved the music. Especially the theme song, To Fill The World With Love.

“I love that song,” dad told me one night as we watched a rerun of the movie on TV. “It says exactly what I want to do. Have someone sing it at my funeral for me, OK?”

I thought that was a kind of funny request, but I never forgot it. Dad really did try to pattern his life after the message of the song, and he pretty much succeeded.

To Fill the World With Love

In the morning of my life I shall look to the sunrise.
At a moment in my life when the world is new.
And the blessing I shall ask is that God will grant me,
To be brave and strong and true,
And to fill the world with love my whole life through.


In the evening of my life I shall look to the sunset,
At a moment in my life when the night is due.
And the question I shall ask only I can answer.
Was I brave and strong and true?
Did I fill the world with love my whole life through?

Dad passed away four years ago, and his grandchildren sang this song in tribute for him, because he did fill the world with love. Now it's my turn to try to do the same. Hopefully some day my grandchildren will want to sing this song for me, as well.

I Don't Own My Children

“I'm Lorrie,” my ex-husband's current wife introduced herself at my son's fiance's Bridal Shower. “Russell's other mother.”

I wonder why that hurt so much? It wasn't like it was the first time we had shared important occasions with my children, but for some reason having someone claim to be my son's mother really got to me.

Russell met Melody at a fireside one Sunday night, and he was smitten. I understood why when he brought her home to meet us a few days later. With blond hair and a Dresden china complexion, Melody was the total opposite of everyone in our family, especially Russell, who had his grandpa's dark hair, blue eyes, and tan skin.

Melody was born with cerebral palsy, a condition that caused her great difficulty walking. She could get around with crutches, but it was very hard. I think Russell's heart went out to her the moment he saw her. She needed him, and he needed to be needed.

Melody was a sweetheart, courageous and wise, but she had been coddled since she was a baby, and had been taught to believe the world was supposed to take care of her. At first Russell loved doing that. He used to pick Melody up and carry her everywhere. It was so sweet to see them, his dark head next to her blond one while he cradled her in his arms.

They were married just a few months after they met, and set up housekeeping in a little apartment not too far from us. They were so cute together. I often went over to help Melody during the day while Russell worked. She loved cooking for him and playing housewife, but even simple things like carrying a bowl of freshly mixed jello from the counter to the refrigerator was hard.

It wasn't long before they were expecting their first child. They were both thrilled, but having a baby is hard on women with perfect bodies. It was doubly frightening for Melody. She made it, though, and they were blessed with an adorable little black haired baby girl. She was so cute! Taking care of a baby, though, was even more difficult for Melody. Gradually Russell missed more and more work to take care of his wife and daughter.

Being needed was one thing. Being needed but not appreciated was another. Since Melody had been raised assuming everyone was there to wait on her, she tended not to notice the service people gave. There were many things she could do, but didn't even try. I doubt it even entered her head to pick up after herself, but little things like that can get on another person's nerves, and after awhile the fact that Russell was playing the part of dad, mother, and housewife began to wear him down. Still, I think they would have figured things out if it hadn't been for Melody's mother. Why do women, especially mothers, feel like they have to interfere in their children's lives?

Melody's mom didn't think Russell took good enough care of her daughter. She didn't think he provided well enough for her. In fact, she pretty much disapproved of everything Russell did. They decided to move farther away, mainly to get away from Melody's mom, and Russell found a new job in a small town up in the mountains. They were happier there, for awhile. Melody got pregnant again, and they they had another little dark haired daughter.

During this time Melody's mother divorced her husband. Of course, that added to her stress and worry, but it also gave her more time to interfere in her daughter's life. She was a domineering kind of person, anyway, and I wondered how the kids got along with her.

She met a fellow on the internet and suddenly moved away to California to get married. Not long after she got it into her mind that Melody needed to come stay with her for a couple of weeks. She drove back to Arizona, picked up Melody and the babies while Russell was at work, and took them back to California with her. Russell came home from work that day to find an empty house and no family.

At first he thought they were only going to be gone a few weeks and Melody kept in contact with me, although I didn't know exactly where she was. Soon, though, she stopped taking Russell's phone calls. She told me they made her feel bad. The few weeks turned into months, and soon there was no contact at all. Then Melody's mother took out a restraining order on Russell, making illegal for him to even go into California. It was all like a bad soap opera and I couldn't believe it was happening to our family.

I tried to talk Russell into getting a good lawyer and fighting back, but he kept telling me, “What would the Savior do, Mom?” He believed that patience and charity would eventually soften Melody's heart.. We were all sure that it wasn't even really Melody who had caused the problem. It was her mother.

Four years went slowly by. Finally the restraining order elapsed. During this time Russell had been served with divorce papers and heard through the grapevine that Melody had remarried and moved to Utah. He decided, or perhaps he was prompted, to try to contact her through the internet and see how his girls were doing. He wrote a sweet letter and read it to me over the phone before sending it.

“Do you think it sounds alright,” he asked me when he was done. “I don't want to scare Melody or anything.”

I thought the letter was perfect. In it he assured Melody that he wasn't trying to take away her little girls, a fear I was sure was the real reason Melody let her mother take out the restraining order in the first place..

Russell sent the email with fear and trepidation. Two hours later he called me.

“Mom, Melody answered me!” he exclaimed into the phone. “She says she wants me to be able to see the girls again!”

I was overjoyed, both for Russell's sake, and my own. I'd missed my granddaughters, too. In the email Melody had confirmed our suspicions that it had really been her mother's idea, and plan, to take her and the girls away. Things had not worked out the way she had planned, going from bad to worse over time. Melody had finally re-married, but it hadn't worked out, and she was living alone with the girls in Utah now.

Russell was able to go see his daughters a couple of weeks later, and has had visitation rights ever since. Melody eventually remarried, this time to a good guy who seems to be taking good care of her and her family.

Russell has also gone on with his life, and things have worked out OK. But I can't help reflecting on the damage caused by a mother who wanted to be so involved in her daughter's life that she took over and practically ruined it.

It's good to love our children, but we don't own them. I have occasionally thought back to the day Lorrie introduced herself as Russell's “other mother,” and wondered. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise for me to have to let my children go, at least a little, and share them with someone else. It made me realize they really didn't belong to me in the first place. And maybe It helped me be a less domineering mother in the end. I hope so, at least.

A New Heart

The hardest part about being a wife and mother is watching the people I love make mistakes and poor choices; knowing what they should do to be happy, but having them ignore me. If only they would listen, they would be so much happier and our whole family would have peace.

I don't know why I was blessed so young with an understanding of the principles of forgiveness, charity, and service. I know as a kid I didn't forgive or have much empathy for my little brother. We fought like cats and dogs over the TV, what kind of ice cream mom should buy, and everything else kids argue over. But somewhere along the way between childhood and adulthood I absorbed the teachings of Jesus, and I believed them. I certainly wasn't perfect, but I knew I would be happier if did nice things for someone when I was sad; that I would find peace if I forgave offenses and didn't hold a grudge; that if I looked behind the actions I would always discover a reason for people's behaviors that I could understand, pity, and wish to help. Why didn't other people know this?

I tried to explain these principles to Moe as he dealt with the kids, but he refused to listen. He felt like I was telling him what to do, “lecturing him”, he called it, and it infuriated him that I wouldn't take his side and back him up, whatever he did. He didn't understand when I tried to tell him it was better to be nice than to be right.

I tried to teach the children the same principles, and I'm glad to say they listened to me sometimes, and they really did try, but it was a long, hard process, and had to be started all over again the next time something went wrong.

Maybe the lessons I was supposed to learn were patience, long-suffering, and unconditional love. It's funny, but the hardest time to forgive and have charity is when you are trying to teach someone else how to have it.

Anyway, one day I was really down. It had been a trying week, and I felt like I was sinking into a pit of despair. All around me people were cross and cranky, hurting the ones they loved by being stubborn and selfish. The thing that got to me the most was when someone hurt someone else. I hated to see anyone feel bad, and I hated to see people be mean. If only I could step inside them for just a moment and make them be nice, make them be understanding, make them realize they were hurting themselves with their behavior, and make them stop.

That morning I sat down at the kitchen table after everyone was gone. I hadn't studied the scriptures yet, so I picked up my Bible with a prayer in my heart.

“Heavenly Father, please can you show me what I should do,” I prayed. “Please, help me find something in the scriptures that can teach me how to do a better job teaching my family, or that can give me peace and comfort.”

Many times in the past, when I was really in need, I'd opened my scriptures and found the exact answer I was searching for, so I knew if it was the Lord's will He would show me something today. Still, I was prepared to search and study and work to find something that would help me.

My Bible fell open to Ezekiel 11. I had previously highlighted verses 19 and 20, so I began reading there.

19 “And I will give them one heart, and I will put a new spirit within you; and I will take the stony heart out of their flesh, and will give them an heart of flesh:

20 “That they may walk in my statutes and keep mine ordinances, and do them: and they shall be my people, and I will be their God.”

My heart leaped within me as I read these words. It was as if the Lord stood beside me and put His arm around my shoulders and whispered, “It will be OK, Gale. I will take care of things. You're family will learn, they will understand, they will change. Don't worry any more.”

I love Heavenly Father so much! I love Jesus, my savior and redeemer. They are so good to me, and give me the hope, the strength, the grace to go on. Thank you, Father!

Alyssa and Matt

Alyssa was one of the sweetest teenagers you ever met. She never complained, she never got into trouble, and she still liked me. What more could a mother ask? Mind you, she had her difficulties, like having to deal with a step-dad who seemed to constantly give her grief, but she dealt with them with the grace and poise of a twenty-year-old. I was so proud of her.

Alyssa loved track, but she developed a pain in her hip and the doctor advised she stop running. Thank goodness swimming didn't bother her. She was a good swimmer, and a fantastic diver. All through high school she was on the diving team, and she just got better and better. It was awe inspiring to watch her do flips, handstands, and somersaults from a diving board, somehow contorting her body into a perfect, vertical entrance into the smooth water. She made it look so easy, but it wasn't.

Alyssa was a friendly person, always smiling, laughing, and talking, and everyone loved her, maybe a little too much. Alyssa had a special friend, Matt, who we all liked. He seemed to love her, too. She still dated other boys, but for the big dates she went with Matt. They went to senior prom together, and she looked just like a princess.

Being a good swimmer gave Alyssa an edge when it came to finding summer jobs. She was a shoe-in for swimming pool life-guard. She looked so cute, sitting on the the high chair in her speed-o swimming suit and dark glasses. I wish I looked so cute in a swimming suit!

Our neighbors had a swimming pool, and they graciously invited us to swim whenever we wanted. Summer days invariably included at least an hour in their back-yard, relaxing in the cool water under a hot sun. Kami and Krissi loved the water just as much as the rest of us, and soon learned to swim well. Once in awhile I would take them across town to go swimming at the public pool where Alyssa worked, and they really loved that.

A year and a half after graduating, Matt was called to serve a two year mission for our church in Brazil. That was hard on Alyssa. Not officially engaged, she still intended to wait for Matt and marry him when he came home. The only problem was, the other young men didn't understand this, and Alyssa was so friendly and sociable that she attracted boys like flies. Within a few weeks she was dating a new young man, and he was serious.

Alyssa managed to fend him off, deciding it was time to leave home and go away to school. That summer she moved to Utah. I missed her so much, but loved getting letters and talking to her on the phone. It always seemed to me I got closer to my kids when they moved away, perhaps distance does make the heart grow fonder.

The problem was, it sometimes also makes it more forgetful. That fall Alyssa met a nice young man, coincidentally named Steve, that she soon fell for. I thought it was kind of funny at first.

“Steve?” I asked her on the phone when she called to check in one afternoon. “What's wrong with my daughters? First Linnea and Holly both married Jason's, now you're dating a guy with the same name as your little brother? Don't you guys have any imagination?”

I really didn't think anything would come of their relationship. Alyssa had been so in love with Matt, and he was such a good guy, I was sure she'd get over her Steve and end up waiting for Matt. But by Christmas they were talking about marriage, and Alyssa brought Steve home with her to meet the family.

He was nice, and he seemed genuinely in love with Alyssa, but he wasn't Matt.

Over the next few months Alyssa called with updates. It seemed that Steve was having a hard time committing, perhaps that's why Alyssa was so interested in him. You know, the thrill of the chase kind of thing.

She neglected writing Matt about her new romance, at first just skirting around the issue and eventually just not writing him any more. He was crushed, of course, when he finally learned about it. I felt so bad for him.

In the end, though, Alyssa began to see that her relationship with Steve wasn't going where she wanted. Eventually she decided to come home. I was relieved, and reassured. I'd been so certain she would marry Matt that it just seemed right.

Matt came home from his mission just a few days before Christmas, 2004. They got engaged on Christmas, and married two months later, just before Valentines. It was perfect, and I was so happy for them, plus I had another son-in-law to love and be proud of, one not named Jason.

Pal

Kami loved animals, all of them. She loved cats, dogs, bunny rabbits, hermit crabs, white mice, rats, fish, and birds. In fact, if it breathed, she loved it. Perhaps it was her soft heart, perhaps it was her innate need to nurture, perhaps it was because she could feel that they loved her, unconditionally. I guess we all need that.

When she was in first grade my brother, Phillip, gave Kami a puppy. He raised golden retrievers, beautiful dogs, and he had a new litter of puppies he let Kami come pick from. They were the cutest things! Round and fluffy, they looked like little balls of cream scampering over and under Kami's legs as she sat on the ground in the middle of them. I fell in love with the whole bunch of them. How in the world could you choose just one? But Kami knew right away which puppy belonged to her. He was the sweetest, most gentle little thing, with big black eyes and the cutest little nose, and believe it or not, a smile. Really. He was adorable.

We couldn't take the puppy home that day, he was too young to leave his mother, but Kami began counting down the days until he was old enough, and trying to figure out what she would call her new dog.

“I think you should name him Butch,” daddy told her confidentially. “Or maybe Petunia.” Moe loved to tease, and he'd had a calf named Petunia when he was a kid.

“No,” Kami told him seriously. “I'm going to name him Buttercup.”

Buttercup? Really? I tried to explain that Buttercup was kind of a girly name to give to a little boy puppy, but Kami didn't care. I don't know why she loved it so much, maybe because her big brothers and sisters loved to watch “The Princess Bride”, or maybe because her cousins had once sung a song about “My Little Buttercup” and she thought it was fun. One way or the other, she was pretty set on the name.

We had a couple of weeks to talk it over before she brought her puppy home. It didn't take long for her to discover that I wasn't the only one who thought she ought to choose a different name. It was probably her friend Jessica, or maybe her big brother Stephen who finally convinced her that Buttercup wasn't right, but she eventually changed her mind.

We went and picked up the puppy on a Saturday afternoon. Grandpa and Grandma came outside to see him as soon as we got home.

“What are you going to name your puppy?” Grandma asked first thing.

Kami was holding the little fluff ball in both arms. He was squirming and wiggling, licking her nose and cheeks and ears. She grinned great big and announced, “Pal!”

Pal was the perfect name, and he became her best friend. They loved each other so much. For the first couple of weeks he lived in a little pen in our backyard, close to the house, but soon he was able to move out to his long dog run under the apple trees at the back of our lot. It was the perfect place for a dog, cool and shady, with lots of room to run and jump and play. Moe built him an adorable dog house, and we decorated it with flowers and his name, and Kami spent more time there than in our own house.

One afternoon, after getting in some kind of trouble, I found her carrying her pillow and a blanket outside.

“Where are you going, young lady,” I asked her suspiciously.

“I'm running away,” she told me hotly.

“Were are you running away to?” I asked.

“I'm moving in with Pal!” .

And she did. She stuffed her blanket and pillow into the dog house, climbed in with her best friend, and stayed there all afternoon. I asked her what she was going to eat, and she assured me that dog food would be just fine. Yuck!

Moe thought it was so cute he got the video camera out so he could capture Kami's new home on tape for posterity's sake. She really did look cute out there. I guess the dog food wasn't as tasty as she thought it would be, or maybe she just got a little scared when the sun went down, but she did eventually come back into the house, and I was glad. But I will always be grateful that she had someone she believed loved her, no matter how much trouble she got in. I guess we all need a Pal like that.

Krissi's First Field Trip

It's funny how each of our children are so different, at least mine were. My youngest two daughters, even though they were only seventeen months apart, were totally unlike each other.

Kami was our independent, adventurous little girl, on the outside. Yet on the inside, she was timid as a mouse. I didn't realize this until we went to Disneyland. She held tightly to my hand and thoroughly disliked every scary, thrilling ride. It totally surprised me.

Krissi, on the other hand, was a shy, quiet, timid little girl. She was content staying close to me, playing inside the house, only talking to her close brothers and sisters and grandma. She drove poor grandpa crazy, hiding behind me every time he tried to talk with her. Grandma suggested that Krissi shied away from Grandpa on purpose because it caused him to pay her more attention. Maybe so.

Krissi totally surprised me at Disneyland. She wasn't scared of a single ride, and enjoyed everything thrilling and exciting, totally opposite of what I would have expected. But it was during her first school field trip that I really realized just how independent Krissi really was.

Krissi went to the zoo for her first field trip in Kindergarten. I think I was excited as she was. We held hands as we walked down the hall to her classroom, carrying our sack lunches and water bottles, ready to have a fun adventure. I opened the classroom door and Krissi rushed in to hug her teacher, put her things on her desk, and greet her classmates. I followed, said hello to the teacher, then stood in the back of the room with the other mothers, quietly visiting until it was time for us to get on the bus.

The teacher had a list of children for each mother to keep an eye on. I was assigned to take care of Krissi and three other little girls. They were all sweethearts, and I expected to have a nice day. I wasn't prepared for what happened next, though.

The children got into their lines and quietly walked out to the waiting bus. The mothers followed, while the few dads who were coming carried the boxes full of lunch sacks. Once at the bus, the children happily climbed on, finding seats next to their friends or their parents. I followed Krissi and took a seat towards the front of the bus, but she didn't sit next to me. Instead, she sat beside one of her friend's mothers on the row behind me.

“Krissi, don't you want to sit by me?” I asked in surprise.

She grinned and shook her head.

I looked at her, then at the other mother, who smiled consolingly at me.

“Are you sure you don't want to sit here?” I asked again, hopefully, but Krissi didn't move.

Two of the little girls in my group hurried over and sat on either side of me, and we had a fun ride to the zoo, but I've got to tell you I was a little mystified, and a lot perturbed. What was the point of going on a field trip with my daughter if she didn't want to be with me?

At the zoo Krissi continued to stick by the other mother. We all stayed together in one large group, so it really didn't matter who she was with, but it sure hurt my feelings. Other little girls who didn't have mother's with them held my hand, we walked and talked and enjoyed the zoo, but Krissi pretended like I wasn't there. It was really odd.

The ride home was the same as the ride there, though most of the children fell asleep and I read a book. It was one of the easiest field trips I had ever chaperoned, and certainly a lot of fun, but not what I'd expected.

Back at school the teacher allowed the children with parents to leave early, so Krissi and I said goodby and walked out to our car.

“Did you have a good time?” I asked as we climbed into our car.

“Yes,” she told me happily, beaming from ear to ear.

“Were you sad I came with you?” I asked curiously.

“No,” she told me unconcernedly.

“Why didn't you sit with me, then?” I asked.

“I don't know,” she said with a little yawn. And that was all I ever got out of her. There didn't seem to be any reason for her odd behavior, other than that she just wanted to sit with that other mother. I guess she just wanted to do her own thing, I don't know. She always wanted me to come with her on field trips, but she never did have anything to do with me when I was there. Perhaps it was her way of being independent, perhaps it was her way of being anonymous, and not drawing attention to herself. One way or the other, it sure was different from the way my other children acted. But that's my point. Kids are different one from another, just like the rest of us, I guess.

God is in Control

I have had the privilege of knowing a number of amazing people in my life, people who taught me how to live, how to love, and even how to die. Like Wanda Strebeck.

Wanda lived in the same ward as me. I knew who she was, but we served in different organizations, so I didn't really know her personally until one day I was asked to give a bread-baking demonstration. It was fun, the bread turned out fine, but when I cut it for everyone to taste I made a mess. The only knife I owned was dull and old, and it squished and tore the bread. I laughed it off and didn't think much about it, so I was really surprised when Wanda showed up at my door a few days later.

“Wanda,” I greeted her, “what are you doing here?”

“I've brought you a present,” she said with a big grin on her face. Then she pulled a brand new, heavy duty stainless steel cutting knife from the sack she was carrying and handed it to me. “You make the delicious bread,” she told me sincerely, “so I just had to get you a good knife for you to cut it with.”

I was floored. To think she would go out and buy me a knife, but that's just the kind of person Wanda was.

It wasn't long after that I learned that Wanda had cancer. I felt awful. How could something like that happen to such a wonderful person? It was worse, though, a couple of months later when I learned that the doctor's had told Wand there was nothing more they could do, and she was dying.

The news spread through our ward like wild fire. Everyone was devastated. That weekend there was an adult party at our ward. No one expected Wanda to come, but she did. At first I wondered what I should say to her? Should I act like there was nothing different and just ignore the cancer? Should I tell her how sorry I was? What could I say? I think everyone at the party had the same questions, and felt kind of awkward, not knowing what to do. But Wanda knew. She moved from group to group, sitting with each couple, breaking the ice, helping us get back to normal. I learned so much from her that night.

Wanda came to church every single Sunday, never missing a meeting, the whole time she was sick. In our church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, the first Sunday of every month we fast, then have a testimony meeting for church. Every Fast Sunday Wanda got up and bore her testimony. She had such faith in Jesus Christ and His gospel. The week before she died Wanda really took a turn for the worse. Unable to walk anymore, her husband pushed her in a wheel chair, but she still came to church. It was the first Sunday of the month, Fast Sunday, and she asked to have a microphone brought down to her so she could bear her testimony one more time.

“My son says I look like I'm in “melt down”, Wanda joked with a shaky voice as she tried to talk loud enough for all of us to hear. “But my grandchildren call the old lady folds of skin flapping under my arms my angel wings.” Then she bore her testimony to us. It was the strongest testimony of Jesus Christ that I have ever heard. She knew... she knew! Wanda passed away the following Friday, leaving us so blessed.

At her funeral,Wanda's son told us that his mother knew the Lord just as surely before she died as she knew Him when she met Him on the other side of the veil.

“My mother had an indisputable testimony that God is in control,” he son assured us. “That doesn't mean she thought God causes bad things to happen to people. She knew people have their agency, and sometimes they make stupid decisions or choices that have consequences which are hard to take. Still, God is in control. If He thought something would harm us or not be a blessing in the end, He would change it. Even if someone's poor choices put another person in danger, if God knew it wouldn't end up OK he would step in stop the consequences from happening. He is in control. Sure, my mother got cancer, but the Lord could have healed her if he thought that was best. She died, and I hate it, but I know someday I will understand why it was Mom's time to go. For now, I just have to trust that we are in God's hands, and that all things will work together for our good. I know my mother knew that.”

Wanda taught me how to graciously leave this life. Her faith never wavered, and her smile never left her lips. I learned so much from watching her die, and I hope when it comes my time, I will be able to do it as sweetly as she did.

You Will Never Feel Cheated

One Sunday afternoon as we were sitting around visiting, my sister shared a poignant story she had heard in Church that morning. It touched me so much that I have never forgotten.

One of the speakers shared something that had happened to her years earlier. She had just finished spending a week at girls camp, coming home Saturday morning just a couple of hours before her husband left to take his scouts on an outing to Lake Powell.

There wasn't much time for them to talk, but her husband quickly told her how the week had gone and about their children. Everything had gone well, except their eighteen year-old-daughter was sad because her boyfriend was expecting his mission call and it was going to be hard for them to say goodbye for two years.

After her husband kissed her goodbye and left for Lake Powell, she got to the work unpacking and cleaning. She visited with all of her kids, but she couldn't find the eighteen year-old-daughter. Figuring she must be over at her boy-friends, the mom worked on cleaning the house, but her daughter never came home.  After awhile she began to get worried, and eventually went looking for her daughter, but she couldn't find either her or her boy-friend. When she questioned the younger kids they told her their sister's boy-friend had received his mission call that morning, and unable to face the prospect of being separated for two years, the couple had eloped to Las Vegas.

The mother couldn't believe that, so she spent the afternoon and evening trying to track down her daughter. Of course, by this time she was really anxious, but she couldn't get a hold of her husband up at Lake Powell (this was before cell phones), her parents were on a mission in the Philippines so they couldn't help her, and her in-laws lived up in Utah so they couldn't help either.

The poor mother spent the whole evening on the phone, eventually learning that her daughter really had eloped, but while she was occupied she asked her other older children to watch the younger ones. They stayed out swimming in their backyard pool longer than usual. Somehow they lost track of their little two-year-old brother, and he drowned.

You can imagine how heart broken this mother, and her whole family, were. She understood the Gospel of Jesus Christ, she knew that she would see her son again, but this mother still suffered. For a month she agonized over loosing her baby, the unfairness of it all, and her desire, her need, to hold him again and be able to raise him.

She went to her Bishop, then to her Stake President, asking them to please explain how things were going to work in the Millennium, and if she would be able to have her baby back and get to raise him and have all the experiences she felt she had been cheated out of. Neither of them were able to answer her questions to her satisfaction. She said she worried and worried, and finally decided she needed to talk to one of the apostles to get her questions answered. In fact, she decided she needed to talk to Elder Neil A. Maxwell. He was such a great scriptorian and knew the Gospel so well that she felt sure he would be able to help her. But how could she talk to him? People don't just barge in on an apostle.

One Saturday morning, about four weeks later, she was upstairs cleaning bathrooms when the phone rang. She yelled downstairs to her kids who were watching Saturday morning cartoons to get the phone. They called upstairs to tell her she was wanted on the phone.

“Who is it?” she yelled back at them, cross about being interrupted in her chores.

“It's Elder Maxwell,” her kids yelled up.

“Yeah, right!” she muttered crossly as she crossed her bedroom and picked up the extension. “Hello,” she grumped into the phone.

“Hello,” a male voice greeted her pleasantly. “This is Neil A. Maxwell.”

She couldn't believe it, but it really was! Apparently, Elder Maxwell had been in the Philippines earlier that month, and had met her parents over there. They had told him about what happened, and he had felt like he needed to call and talk to her because something similar had happened in his own family.

“I just want to know what it's going to be like in the millennium,” this woman begged Elder Maxwell after they had talked for a few minutes. “I want to know that I am going to get to hold and raise my little boy, and have all those experiences I would have had with him if he hadn't died.”

“I'm sorry,” Elder Maxwell told her consolingly, “but I can't tell you exactly how things are going to work there. I don't know how God is going to make everything work out. But I can promise you this, however things work out in the eternities, you will never feel like you have been cheated.”

Looking For Grandpa's Mine (on the desert in spring)

If you think the desert is mostly yellow and brown, you should see it in the spring.  Then, the desert is green!  Terr e-verte Ironwood,  sap green Mesquite, and lime colored Palo Verde trees fight for space with mint prickly pear, moss colored ocotilla, and and lemon-lime cholla cactus.  Under every tree lush grass spreads in cool pools of emerald.  Saguaros tower above everything else like jolly green giants, wearing their uniforms of olive corduroy.  And behind it all, rugged indigo, amethyst, and sage mountains jump up to meet the sky.
One spring day Moe and I took our little girls and mom and dad on a drive out past Florence, Arizona, to see if we could find Grandpa Johnson's mines. Fifty years earlier Grandpa placed claims on the desert south-east of Phoenix, and mined for copper. Dad helped him one summer, and I remembered his stories of rattlesnakes in the tunnels and bob-cats in the equipment shed. I'd always wanted to see where these events happened, and now we had a chance.
It was a beautiful spring day and the desert sparkled like case of priceless jewels. The air was fresh and cool, but the sun was hot on our heads when we finally found the spot where the mines had been and we climbed out of the car to go exploring. There wasn't much left to see, just some fenced off holes and crumbling boards and cement, but it was still fun to know I was standing on the same spot Grandpa Johnson had once stood, and worked.




“Can I go play at Jessica's?” Kami asked me later that afternoon, after we got home.
“Sure,” I told her. I was happy to let her go next door. It had been a nice trip, but now she was kind of grumpy from the long ride, and so was I.
The phone rang a few minutes later.
“Hi, Gale,” Jessica's mother greeted me when I answered it. “It sounds like you had a nice drive out on the desert this morning.”
“Did Kami tell you about our trip?” I asked, a little surprised that Kami had even cared enough to mention it.
“She sure did,” Jennifer told me with a laugh. “That's why I'm calling you. I thought you might get a kick out of what she told me when I asked her where you guys had been all morning. Do you know what she said?”
“No,” I replied, wondering what Kami could have come up with that would tickle our neighbor so much.
“She said, 'We went out to the desert because grandpa lost his mind, and we were looking for it,'” Jennifer laughed. “So I was wondering if you found it?”

More Blessings From Heaven

I was promised in a Patriarchal blessing I received when I was sixteen years old that I would not want for the necessities of life and my needs would be cared for and provided, as long as I had faith and trusted in the Lord and observed the laws and ordinances of the gospel. This blessing has been fulfilled, over and over again throughout my life.

When my ex-husband's estranged wife nearly had a nervous breakdown and demanded he take back the car he had given us I wasn't sure what we would do. I drove around an old, un-airconditioned car that my oldest son left behind when he went on his mission for a little while, but it was hot and miserable going anyplace. Within a few weeks my in-laws decided to buy themselves a new car, so they loaned us their old Oldsmobile. In my daughter, Alyssa's, words, it looked and smelled like a grandma-mobile, but it had air conditioning! Still, I wished I had a nicer, more comfortable and less smelly car to drive, but Moe did not want to go into debt, so we made do.

Then the most amazing thing happened; Moe's aunt passed away. She had no children, so it was her wish that each of her many (they had a very large family) nieces and nephews receive an inheritance from her. Quite unexpectedly, we got a check in the mail for $5,000! Moe looked and looked and finally found a very nice, used Ford Taurus with extremely low mileage. It was beautiful! Dark, midnight blue, like new upholstery, power everything, I felt like a queen when I got inside and drove it home from the used car lot. I was so happy!

We took the new car out for a spin that weekend, driving up to Prescott Valley just for the heck of it. It was so comfortable, the air conditioning was so cold, the ride so smooth! We had a ball, until we stopped to get hamburgers before heading home. Kami, who was only five, was sitting in the back seat behind me. Moe had rolled the windows down while we got our food, so he pushed the button to roll them back up before we headed home, only to hear a strangled cry from behind us. Poor Kami had stuck her head out of the window to see something, and was being squished by the closing glass. She never let her daddy forget about that one.

I told Heavenly Father thank you, over and over again, for my new car, I just loved it! But I felt a little guilty for having something so nice to drive, while Moe still drove around in a little pick-up he had inherited from his dad years before. After all, I couldn't help thinking Moe should have something from the money his aunt left him. Then, wonder of wonders, a few months later we got another $5,000 check in the mail from his aunts estate! This time I really couldn't believe it! Moe patiently shopped around until he found a really nice, used, cherry red, full sized extended cab pickup. He was in seventh heaven, and I was again reminded just how well the Lord took care of us.

Cheeleading Instead of Coaching

“You cannot force your children to do what's good for them,” the Dr. said, looking me straight in the eye. “You can encourage them, council them, do what you can to make it easier for them, but you can't force them.”

I was sitting in a psychiatrist's office. I was there with Russell, and the Dr. had finished talking with him and was now talking to me. He had concurred with our previous diagnosis that Russell was suffering from depression, and had already given me a prescription for Russell to take. Now he was explaining what I could do, from a mother's stand-point, to help.

“My own daughter suffers from mental health issues,” the doctor told me consolingly. “When she takes her medicine she does great and feels wonderful. But because she feels so good she thinks she doesn't need the medicine any more, and stops taking it. Then all heck breaks loose. But I can't be with her every minute of every day, and I can't force her to live at home any more so I can monitor her medication. I can't live her life for her.”

He gave me a long look, then he went on. “Look, it's like you were the coach when your son was a little boy. You made all the decisions, you called all the plays, and you were out there on the field with him, guiding him around and helping him play the game.

“When your son became a teenager it was your job to back off a little and become the coach on the side lines, calling out suggestions and plays, but not actually being out on the field with him.

“Now that he's an adult you are no longer the coach at all. Now you're the cheer leader. If your son comes to you and says, “I've just spent all my savings on an expensive new sports car,” you may swallow hard, you may think it's the dumbest thing you've ever heard of, but it's not your job to tell him it was a stupid thing to do. Instead you say, “Wow! What color is it? Can I come look at it,” or something like that.

“Now, if your son asks for your advice, if he wants to know if you think he should buy an expensive car or save his money for his education, then you can tell him what you really think. But if he doesn't ask for your advice, it's not your job to tell him what to do any longer. You just be the cheerleader and point out all the good stuff. He has to make the calls for himself.”

I walked out of the office that day, thinking really hard. What the doctor had told me had a ring of truth to it. It reminded me of how Joseph Smith, the first prophet of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in this dispensation, had explained his role in leading the church. “I teach them correct principles,” he had said, “and then I let them govern themselves.”

By the time my kids were adults I'd better have taught them all the correct principles I knew, because it was time to turn them loose and let them make their own choices.

“Please, Heavenly Father,” I silently prayed as I drove home that day. “I've tried to be a good mother and teach my children right, but I'm sure I've left a lot of things undone. Please, make up the difference and help them learn the things I have neglected.”

And you know what, I believe He will. That's the promise, after all. After I have done all I can do, I know the Savior will step in and finish the work. That's what Grace is for.

Depression / Russell's Mission

Have you ever had an “Oh! That's why,” moment, when you finally see the reason why God let something happen? I love those glimpses into eternity, and the warm feeling it gives me knowing that God has been in control all the time, it was only me that didn't understand.

I had one of those moments when I was standing outside by my mailbox, talking to my neighbor one day. JoEllen was one of my favorite people, and I loved visiting with her. We'd stop to say hello and have so much fun talking that an hour would go by without my even knowing it. JoEllen had great wisdom, as well as an understanding and kind heart.

Anyway, one day we were talking about all the people we admired in our ward, and JoEllen mentioned a sister I knew, but not well. I should have known Debbie better, we were visiting teaching companions for a couple of years, but she was quiet and reserved, so although we spent three or four hours a month together, I really didn't know her, just about her. For instance, I knew how many children she had, that they were close in ages to my own children, and that her son had gone out on a mission and come home early, but I didn't know why.

JoEllen praised Debbie so absolutely that it caught me a little off guard. I mean, I knew Debbie was a sweet woman, but I'd never thought she was so amazing.

“I love the way she loves her family,” JoEllen told me that day. “She could have been so embarrassed by her son coming home early from his mission that she stopped coming to church, or she could have been angry at him or his teachers or the bishop or somebody, but instead she just quietly went on loving and supporting him. I want to be like that. I want my kids to know that I will always love them, no matter what they do.”

JoEllen's words really made an impression on me, as did reflecting on the example Debbie had set of unconditional love.

“Oh. That's why I was made her partner,” I realized. “so I could learn from her example.” And, at least in part, maybe that's why her son came home early from his mission. So the rest of us mother's could see how a truly Christ-like woman handled such an experience.

Soon after Russell left on his mission he got terribly homesick. At first I thought if he could just hang on he'd get over it, but that didn't happen. I was busy helping with Holly's wedding and didn't know what to do to help anyway, so I just kept trying to write Russell encouraging letters and preached to him about hanging on. It didn't help.

Once he left the mission home and was actually out in the mission field his letters got more and more desperate. He was literally sick from being homesick, and he wanted to come home. What could I do? I told him no, I told him faith promoting stories, I sent him scriptures to study, I prayed and fasted and prayed some more, but things didn't get better.

Eventually he told me he wanted to come home, now, no matter what, and if I didn't help him he'd come home anyway. I called his Mission President, but he didn't seem to care much whether Russell stayed or not, in fact it sounded kind of like it would be easier for him to just let Russell leave. I talked to our Stake President, who talked to Russell and the Mission President, but there really wasn't much to do but have Russell come home.

That was such a difficult day! I knew that it was going to be embarrassing to have our friends and family learn that Russell had quit his mission, but I did not want my selfish pride to have anything to do with the way I treated him. Surely Russell would be feeling my emotions, only magnified ten-fold. What I wanted, and prayed for, was to be able to love Russell unconditionally, and to help him feel better. In fact, what I wanted was to be like my friend, Debbie. That was another of those “Oh! That's why,” moments for me. I told Heavenly Father thank you over and over again, for putting Debbie into my life. Without ever knowing it, she had prepared me for when Russell would need me.

I don't know if I handled that day right, or not. I remember sitting in the airport by myself, Moe was parking the car, waiting for Russell to come off the plane, dreading seeing him, longing to see him, wanting to enfold him in my arms and hold and comfort him and at the same time wanting to give him a big swat and a long lecture about listening to the spirit and doing what's right. My insides were so churned up with conflicting emotions I just didn't know what to do. I know I wanted to talk him into turning right around and going back on his mission, but I tried not do that. Instead I gave him a long, tearful hug and helped him carry his luggage out to the waiting car.

We drove home through the hot, city streets, the sun blazing down on us, in the middle of a strangely quiet afternoon. It was the middle of the week. We were alone, just Russell and Moe and I. All around us people were going about their business, working and playing, intent on their own lives, while inside I knew that this was a pivotal moment in Russell's life, one that could determine his whole future, and I was helpless to do anything but watch.

“You've got to place this in the Lord's hands,” I kept telling myself. “It's not up to you to make decisions or do anything at all. You're job is to just love Russell and be there for him. Let Heavenly Father take care of everything else.” Of course, just because I was giving myself good advice didn't make it easy for me to take it.

We drove Russell to our Stake President's business office, so he could meet with him and be released from his mission. I remember sitting in the cool lobby of his office, just sitting and waiting for them to be done talking. What would the Stake President tell Russell to do? What would he tell me to do? Would he think it was my fault, that I wasn't a good mother, that I hadn't done all the things a mother is supposed to do to get her son ready to serve the Lord? I hated, really hated, thinking that someone would think I wasn't good enough. I'd spent my entire life trying my hardest to keep every commandment and do every single little thing I was ever asked to do. It was really humbling to realize I had not done enough, and even more humiliating to think that my Stake President was going to think I wasn't a good mom.

“But he won't think that,” I kept trying to tell myself. “He won't judge you by this. And even if he does, Heavenly Father knows you did the best you knew how to do, so it really doesn't matter what the President thinks. What matters is that you make Russell feel OK now.”

The Stake President talked to Russell for about half and hour, then he asked Moe and I to join them in his office. He was kind, understanding, and gracious. Obviously he understood how hard this was on all of us, and he tried his best to make us feel better.

“I am releasing Russell from his mission,” he told us, “but I want to make sure you all understand that this is an honorable release. He has filled his mission, and is now ready to get on with the rest of his life.” Then, turning to me, the Stake President confided, “I don't know if you know much about depression, but I feel like you need to look into that. OK?”

We talked a few more minutes, then left, me turning over and over in my mind what the Stake President had said about depression. I knew some about depression, having dealt with sisters in Relief Society who suffered from it, but it hadn't occurred to me until this moment that it might explain some of Russell's problems.

The rest of that day was spent helping Russell get settled back into our home, and family. He had to go and see his dad later on, and deal with him too, and it was a hard day for Russell. My heart just ached for him. In other circumstances, we would have had all the cousins and aunts and uncles over for a big welcome home party, Russell's friends would have met him at the airport with balloons and signs, and everyone would have been happy and excited. Instead, no one met him but me, there was no party, and people hesitated to even tell him they knew he was home because they didn't know how to welcome him back.

I called two of my sister's husbands right away, to get advice about where to start finding out if Russell had depression. My sister Linda's husband was just finishing his medical degree, and he explained all about depression for me. My sister Julie's husband was finishing his degree to become a psychologist. He had me bring Russell down to his office the next day and gave him a test used at the Missionary Training Center to diagnose depression in missionaries. His dad was actually one of the psychologists working at the MTC with missionaries. Russell passed the test with flying colors, if it could be described like that. Anyway, it showed that he had severe depression. Why hadn't I realized it months before?

This was one of those times when I really would have liked to have an “Oh! That's why!” moment. I mean, I did of course when we learned how severely Russell suffered from depression. It was no wonder he was so homesick he was unable to deal with being on a mission and wanted to come home. But I wanted to know why? Why didn't they catch it at the MTC? For heaven's sake, if they had psychologists assigned to work with the missionaries, why didn't anyone pick up on Russell? And later, when he got out into the mission field, why didn't his Mission President see what was happening? Why didn't he have Russell come back to the mission home and stay with him for awhile and try to work with him? Then, of course, I realized I couldn't ask those questions without first asking why I didn't see the problem before he ever left on his mission? Why didn't I recognize the signs, they were clear enough once I looked back. Why didn't the Lord whisper to me long before Russell ever left that he was dealing with depression so we could address the problem before he even went out into the mission field? Why?

I still don't know the answers. Some day, I will have one of those “Oh! That's why,” moments for this, too, I know. Some day I will see why the Lord allowed Russell, and me, to go through this horribly difficult time, but then, and now, I'm still having to take it on faith that He had a reason for this, like all the other experiences we go through in life. And it will be a good reason, and I will be grateful the Lord allowed it to happen. But for now, I still don't know why.

Holly's Wedding

“Lori, let's not get together Monday night and take the decorations down,” I plead over the phone. “It really would be easier for me to just pick away at it a little at a time tomorrow during the day. There's no reason for you guys to come over and have another big get-together.”

“We want to,” Lori told me determinedly. “We'll make it into a family night, and working together it will come down quickly.”

“I know,” I assured her, just as determinedly, “but I have nothing to do on Monday, and I'd like to get at it early and have it done.”

The truth was, I just didn't want to have another 'get-together' with my ex-husband, his estranged wife, and her kids and their kids. We'd been doing nothing but that for the past couple of weeks, and I was emotionally worn out, not to mention tired of having to run interference between my husband, Moe, and my ex-husband, Sheldon. There was no way in the world that Moe would be happy about having family night with those guys. Anyway, Lori had seemed pretty stressed out having to be around Sheldon. She looked and acted like her nerves were shot. It seemed better to avoid putting her in that position again.

“We really can't do it tomorrow night,” I apologized. “I'm sorry, but it just won't work out. I'll take the decorations down myself during the day.”

“Fine!” she huffed. “I'll be over early to get my stuff!”

“But you don't have to do that,” I quickly stopped her. I hadn't meant to inconvenience her. “You can still come over Monday night to get everything, or whenever. I'll just stack your back-drops and the tables and chairs up in the back yard, and they'll be fine. There's no hurry.

“I'll be there first thing in the morning to get everything out of your way!” she informed me in an angry voice. “I won't impose on you any longer.”

What on earth? I thought Lori and I had been getting along pretty well since she'd kicked Sheldon out for being a jerk and playing around behind her back. I was totally shocked that she wanted to be together with him for another night? After all, we'd just spend a whole week together.

Holly's wedding had been lovely, but stressful. We'd had a bridal shower for her as soon as she came home from school the week before the wedding. Her fiance', Jason, came a couple of days later and we had a groom shower for him. His family drove down from Idaho Thursday, Holly went through the Temple Friday, and the wedding was Saturday. Each event was wonderful, but nerve wracking. I spent the whole time playing peacemaker between Sheldon and Moe, Sheldon and my family, and Sheldon and Lori. I was worn out!

The reception in our back yard turned out beautiful. Linnea did the decorations and flowers and made the wedding cake, and everything was perfect. Lori brought over her beautiful backdrops and tables and chairs (she had owned a wedding catering service at one time) and Linnea turned our yard into a beautiful garden reception. I made the rest of the refreshments, as well as cooking a turkey and rolls so our family, Jason's family, Lori's family and Sheldon would have something to eat between the wedding and the reception. Then I tried to focus on family and the wedding, and it had been lovely. Dad got to perform the wedding in the Temple, and that was really tender. The reception that evening worked out perfectly, and everyone seemed happy.

It was too late to take down decorations after the reception on Saturday night, but I didn't mind doing it Monday. Jason's parents left to go back to Idaho Sunday morning. Holly and Jason stopped by Sunday afternoon to tell us goodby before they left for their honeymoon. We would see them again in a few weeks when we drove up to Idaho for their open house. Sunday afternoon I was just resting when Lori called to tell me her plan for getting together Monday night, but really, it was the last thing I wanted to do. Darn!

“Lori, really, you don't need to come over tomorrow.” I tried to tell her. “I can take everything down myself, and you can pick it up when you have time. I just don't think we need to get together with Sheldon again to do it.”

“I'll be there tomorrow morning,” Lori told me angrily, and hung up the phone.

Monday dawned warm and clear. It was only the first of May, but that doesn't mean cool weather on the desert. By 8:00 the temperature was climbing up into the 90's, and the bright sun beat down upon me as I worked in the backyard, rolling up yards of lavender tulle and pulling tablecloths off the tables. Lori got there about 9:00, still in a huff, and quickly packed up all her backdrops and loaded the tables and chairs into her trailer. She hardly spoke to me as she worked, and was done in less than an hour. It took me the rest of the day to finish taking the twinkle lights out of trees, to box up Linnea's decorations, and clean up the yard and house.

Tuesday I called Lori to try to smooth things out, but only made matters worse. She sounded on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

“You get the van and put it out in front of your house,” she shouted at me over the phone. “Sheldon will be there in half an hour to take it!”

What? Sheldon had given us a new mini-van a couple of years earlier, to replace the old one he'd given me to drive the kids around in not long after we got divorced. Moe didn't want to take the new car, but I finally persuaded him that Sheldon owed us at least that much in back child support payments. I was sure the reason Sheldon was offering us a car was because he needed a tax write-off for his business that year, not because he was being nice. He emphasized that the mini-van belonged to us, and that we were liable for insurance and car repairs and everything, so finally Moe gave in and accepted the car. Now Lori wanted it back?

It was a pretty silly thing for her to do, but it seemed better to just let it go than argue with her at the moment. I went out to the garage, cleaned our stuff out of the van, and drove it out and parked it on the street. Sheldon came and drove it away that afternoon.

A few days later Lori called dad and apologized. “I was wrong,” she told him, “and we want to give the car back to Gale.” Obviously, she had just been worn out like me, and she'd lost it. But to tell you the truth, it was kind of nice not having that gift from them hanging over our heads. Moe and I talked it over and decided we didn't want the car. Who was to say the same thing wouldn't happen again a couple of months later? I could drive the little old car Russell had left behind, until we found something better. Really, the only bad thing was we had nothing to drive up to Idaho for Holly's Open House, and even that was probably good. With the tension between Sheldon and Lori and us, perhaps it was better for us not to go, anyway.

Busy!

Krissi was so cute!  She was three when Russell left on his mission.  Not too long after I bought her a little broom and dustpan to play with in her toy kitchen in her bedroom.  The next day I went to get my broom out to sweep the floor, and there was her little broom standing next to mine in the broom closet.  She just melted my heart.

Her favorite thing to do was to call her "Russell Buddy" on her play phone to tell him she missed him.  We all did.  He missed us, too.  Maybe if things had been smoother as we got him ready, maybe if I had spent more time with just him, maybe if I'd been a better mother and prepared Russell for going out on his own more, he wouldn't have been so homesick.  Or, maybe not.

I didn't have time to worry too much, because I was so busy getting ready for Holly's wedding.  I spent most of my time working outside, planting flowers and getting ready for her reception, which she wanted to have in our back yard.  I was released from serving as a councilor in Relief Society that month, which helped give me some more time.  I missed associating with the wonderful women in our ward, but was asked to teach primary, which was the best calling for me right then.  After working with the women and raising teenagers, I'd forgotten how to teach little children, and it was good for me to be reminded of all the little songs and stories and games I used to know.  I hadn't realized how much I had neglected to share with Kami and Krissi.  Now I got to be with them every Sunday, and I was very glad.

Simple Blessings

Sometimes the darnedest things happen, despite my help. Moe had an air show that he had to work at, he ran the fuel farm at William's Gateway Airport in Mesa, and was given some free tickets for his family to use. My cousin's son, Matthew, who was stationed at Davis Monthan Air Force Base down in Tucson happened to visit us the week before, and Moe offered the tickets to him. Since I was not going to be home to give him the tickets, I told him I'd tape them to the door, but like an idiot, I went off to run my errands and totally forgot.

Matt and a friend drove all the way up from Tucson, came to our house to get the tickets, and couldn't find them. He finally went around to dad's side of the house and rang their doorbell. Thank goodness dad was home, but even with his help they couldn't find the tickets.

If it had happened today, they would simply have called my cell phone, but we didn't have them back in those days. When I got home from the store dad told me what had happened, and I felt awful. To think, Matt had brought his friend all this way for nothing. But what could I do? Be miserable.

Late that night we got a call from Matt, and he told us the rest of the story.

“Because the tickets weren't on your door,” Matt told me, “we went around to the back and found your dad. He invited us to come inside while he looked for the tickets. Gale, it was the strangest thing. My friend is not a member of the church, but he got to talking with Uncle Ralph and he was so impressed with the spirit in your house he couldn't quit talking about it. It was really kind of neat.

“Anyway, after we looked everywhere and couldn't find the tickets we decided to just go on to the air-show anyway and buy tickets at the gate. On the way my friend wanted to know more about you dad, and why your house felt so good. It led into a long discussion about the church, and what Mormons believe and everything. It was really cool.

“Then, as we drove up the road to the airshow, a woman in the car next to ours leaned out of her window and asked if we would like to have her two tickets, just like that! Can you believe it? So we got into the airshow for free, after all!”

Amazing! I keep forgetting that the Lord can do miracles, and that He has a hand in all parts of our life, even me being forgetful.