Cheerfully do all things that lie in my power

Once we had found where we wanted to live, all we had to do was find someone to sell it to us. As soon as we got home Moe got on line and looked up the county records, which listed the owners of each parcel. He started at the top of the list and began calling people. When he got someone to answer he said, “I see you own property west of Snowflake up by Freeman Hollow Road. Would you by any chance be interested in selling?”

I thought he was kind of crazy, until the third man he talked to.

“I told myself if anyone ever offered to buy my land, I'd sell it to them for $50,000,” this fellow told Moe. “My mother gave me the property years ago, but the high altitude is bad for my health, so I can't get up there.”

“We want to buy it,” Moe told him immediately. $50,000 was amazing! We had called the number on the for sale sign we saw at the bottom of Malapai Road. The wife had told us she thought her husband wanted $90,000 for their five acres, but later when we talked to him he said he wanted $150,000, and that was at the bottom of the hill, without a view. It was hard to be sure, but looking at the parcel map Moe had downloaded, it appeared that the five acres we had found by calling was on top of the hill. Now, all we needed was money.

I had lived in our double home in Gilbert with mom and dad for seventeen years, paying rent to cover their taxes and utilities. “I'm going to give you $100,000 when the house sells,” dad had assured us when he put  it on the market. “You'll need a down payment, and you deserve something for all the work you've done   over these many years.” I was floored, and grateful to my generous father. The question now was, when would that be?

“Don't worry, you can live with us when the house sells,” dad had assured me when I worried where we would live until we found someplace else, “at least while you build your own home.” Interestingly enough, the same week we found the land, interest began picking up for the Gilbert house. Maybe we could move up to Snowflake that summer, after all, and the girls could start school up there.

We drove to Snowflake that weekend to see the land we'd found. I couldn't have been more pleased. It was on top of the hill with a beautiful view of the White Mountains in the far south eastern distance and a lovely view of the Snowflake Temple below us to the north east. It was perfect!  When we got home Moe called the owner to see if he would take $5,000 down, then hold it until we could pay the rest.

“No problem,” he told Moe pleasantly. “I'd be happy to hold it as long as you want. I'm in no hurry, so whenever your house sells will be fine.” And just like that, we had a place to build in Snowflake!

Then things began to go crazy. People made proposals on the Gilbert house, other people said they were interested, and dad went back and forth between Gilbert and Snowflake while I tried to keep the house clean all the time so potential buyers could walk through. Life became a roller-coaster ride, up one day, down the next. I tried not to complain, but jeesh!

Thank goodness the last Harry Potter book, “The Deathly Hallows” was published that summer. I'm a huge Harry Potter fan, and having something to take my mind off worrying was a real blessing.

Then, one Sunday near the end of July, a dear friend of mine spoke in church. She and her family had lived at on our street for five years, and were now being transferred to Ohio. Karen based her talk on a scripture in the Doctrine and Covenants, section 123, verse 17.

“Therefore, dearly beloved brethren, let us cheerfully do all things that lie in our power, and then may we stand still, with the utmost assurance, to see the salvation of God, and for his arm to be revealed.”

It felt like an electric shock went through me when she read that scripture. It was like I could hear the Lord talking to me, telling me that he loved me, and assuring me that everything was going to be OK. I just needed to cheerfully do what I could, then let Him take care of the rest of it. What peace that brought me, and how happy I was, at least for a few days.

Company at the Cabin

          Family and friends seemed to fall in love with our cabin just as much as we did, although we were always a little nervous the first time we showed it to them.  After all, the cabin itself was just a tiny little house.  We didn’t have a dishwasher, or a TV, or even a washing machine.  Lot’s of our friends had cabins that were really fancy summer homes, and we worried they would be disappointed with ours. That never happened.  Perhaps they were surprised when they first saw how small our cabin was, but it was so cute the cozy size didn’t seem to matter.  And what the cabin lacked for in amenities it more than made up for with the creek and the hill and the trees and the beauty.

            There was never a more beautiful scene than the one we looked at from the top of our hill.  Often, I would stand looking north, drinking in the beauty of that picture.  Below the hill the roof of Grandpa’s cabin would blaze white as it reflected the sun.  Behind his cabin stood a huge sycamore tree.  It's leaves sparkled like diamonds above the roof as they rustled in the wind.  Ponderosa pine trees grew tall and straight on the hill, while their green pine needles danced at the end of black, twisted branches and framed the scene as they stretched far out from ancient trunks.  Far away, above the sea of green leaves, flat topped mountains stood against a sky so blue it looked unreal.   Puffy white clouds built up in thunderheads that would soon bring loud claps of thunder and wind and rain.   A person could stand there forever, memorizing every detail of that picture, so they could take it home with them and think about it when the desert and life became too hard to handle. 

            We loved to have company at the cabin.  All day we would play together, showing our guests the wonders all around us.  We would take them to the spring, or the Indian ruins, or to play ball in the big meadows along the bluff overlooking the creek.  We would climb in the tree house and swing in the swing. Up and down the hill we ran, back and forth between our cabin upstairs and the creek and fun below.  Inevitably, someone would look at the side of the hill, and suggest sliding down.  We would try to explain that Dad didn’t want us to do that because it would wear the hill away, but the soft pine needles  and steep slope were just too tempting.  Before long kids would be slipping under the heavy wire Dad had stretched to keep us on the trail, and they would start sliding and tumbling straight down the side of the hill at full speed.  Then Dad would have to leave whatever he was doing and come stop us before too much of the hill was worn away, but not before everyone had experienced a ride better than the Matterhorn at Disneyland.

            In the evenings we would play games and tell stories.  Rook was a favorite card game, and charades was something we could all get involved in.  What fun we had in the cabin’s little front room, laughing and playing and enjoying the simple pleasures of good friends.

            One summer we invited our neighbors and their little girl, Valerie, to come up to the cabin for a day.  We made a picnic lunch and walked down the creek, past where it bent to the right at the foot of the bluffs.  Here the creek slowed down into a big, deep pool, shaded by overhanging bushes that created a canopy above the dark, quiet waters.  We ate our lunch on the soft grass which grew along the banks, and played in the water.  It was just deep enough for little children to swim in, but only came up to Mom and Dad's knees.  The water was clear and cold, and here the creek bed was lined with thousands of little pebbles.  Minnows darted in between the shadows, nibbling at our feet if we stood still long enough.  Then we screamed and jumped and laughed because it felt so funny to have them touch our toes.  That was a long, lazy, perfect summer day, the kind you can only remember, but never duplicate.