pickycook.com

I don’t have photos of the ones we made…bummer.  But these are so delicious!!  Yummy!  I think this is our new favorite recipe!  (Original recipe is from the Weight Watchers New Complete Cookbook, copyright 2006, but I adapted it a little and changed a few things.)

Start your vegetable roasting:
2 medium red, orange, or yellow bell peppers, seeded and cut
1 medium zucchini, cut and trimmed
1 medium yellow squash, cut and trimmed
1 medium onion, (red onions are yummy) cut into wedges
1 lb asparagus (I have yet to add the asparagus)
3 cloves garlic, minced
4 tsp oil
1 tsp vinegar
1/2 tsp dried basil
3/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp ground pepper

Put all your chopped vegies into a large bowl.  Mix oil, vinegar and spices in another bowl.  Pour over the top of your vegies and stir to coat well.  (Or if you are lazy like me, just pour everything into the vegies and then stir it up.)  Spread vegies onto a cookie sheet and bake at 450 degrees for 25-30 minutes.

While your vegies are cooking, make the hummus.  (So easy and so good!)  I watched this video which helped immensely with the ‘how to’ (but Spike is allergic to Sesame, so we didn’t add the Tahini to any of our recipes).

So for our recipe, I blended up 2 TBL of lemon juice, 3 cloves of garlic, 2 TBL of oil (olive, avocado or whatever kind you have), 1 tsp. of salt, and 1 tsp of cumin in the food processor (or blender, if yours has enough power).  Blend for a few minutes.

Open and drain two cans of chick peas.  Put one can of chick peas into the food processor and blend for 3-4 minutes.  If mixture is too dry, add a little bit of water (1-2 TBL).  Scrape the sides, as in the video, add the rest of the chickpeas and blend another 3-4 minutes.  Add more water if necessary.  Blend until smooth.  Then we roasted a red pepper.  (To roast, just cut in half, put cut side down, and broil in the oven for about 10 minutes.  Pull out of the oven and place in a paper bag to steam. –this softens the skins and makes it easier to peel.  After a few minutes, peel the skins off of your pepper.)  Place the roasted peppers into your food processor and blend for another few minutes.  Now your hummus is ready and your veggies should be close.

We toasted our bread, spread the hummus on each side and placed our vegies in the middle.  Delicious!!  Even my little ones who were apprehensive at first have learned to like them.  (Well, not all of them.  Shorty and Smiley still won’t try them.  But Spike likes them, if he can dip the vegies into the hummus.)

The other day a friend said to me, “I noticed that none of your boys swear.  How do you teach them to do that?”

I shared my thoughts with her which mostly included the quote from President Kimball (don’t ask me to cite the source…I’ll see if I can find it…...I found it!!  Here!!), “Profanity is the effort of a feeble brain to express itself forcibly.”  In our home we usually tell the children that using those words is the sign of a lack of intelligence because they cannot come up with more descriptive words than swearing.  (One of my personal favorite examples is from the movie Hook.  Hang on, I’ll see if I can find it…)

Oh…here it is:

They are calling each other names, which isn’t OK at our house either.  They are trying to belittle each other but doing all of it without any swearing and it is obvious that a higher intelligence can come up with plenty of words to express himself.

At our house, the goal is not to hurl insults at all.  I want my children to build up one another in love, kindness, and support.  I want our family to be cheerleaders for each other.  So we do not tolerate unkindness toward one another.  Ever.  We jump on it hard!  No hitting, no pushing, no nastiness, no name calling, etc…  The children learn that their parents will not tolerate such behavior in our home because we want everyone to feel safe and feel like they belong here.  There are certain rights that everyone in our home has, among them being treated kindly by others.  I think each child has had us step in when they have been treated unkindly and likewise, they have been on the other end where we have ‘jumped all over them’ for behaving negatively–even in words–to one of their siblings.

One of the things I have realized in teaching children anything, is the concept of leading by example.  You cannot expect your children to have a behavior you yourself have not embraced.  If you want them to be kind, you need to be kind.  If you want them to read, they need to see you reading.  If you want them to pray, read their scriptures, go to church, you need to set that example.

I grew up in a home where we were told to behave one way, but my parents did not teach those things by their behavior.  What do you think made a greater impression on us, the things they told us to do or the way they lived?  You are right.  It was the way they lived.  We learned that what they said wasn’t important enough for them to change their behavior.  And in our minds we thought, so why should we change ours?  Most of us didn’t.

copyright:  Karen Larsen photography

Many years ago, I was serving in the Young Women’s organization.  I was asked to give a talk for our annual YW leadership training.  My assignment was this scripture:  Alma 17:11

 And the Lord said unto them also: Go forth among the Lamanites, thy brethren, and establish my word; yet ye shall be patient in long-suffering and afflictions, that ye may show forth good examples unto them in me, and I will make an instrument of thee in my hands unto the salvation of many souls.

My emphasis was to be the “ye may show forth good examples unto them”.  That was the assignment.  Now I will quote from the talk I gave.


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            The young women whom we have been called to serve, are the future mothers of the next generation.  How important is that calling?

     It is important enough that President David O. MacKay quoted another author in expressing, “No success can compensate for failure in the home.”

     How about a more modern prophet?  These are the words of our dear President Hinckley in November of 2000.

            “I regret to say that so many of our young people fall between the cracks…it is you mothers who bear the burden of sorrow that flows therefrom.  They are your sons and daughters.  And so tonight with the hope that I may be helpful, I plead with you…I plead with you [to]…Sit down and quietly count the debits and the credits in your role as mother.  It is not too late.  When all else fails, there is prayer and the promised help of the Lord to assist you in your trials.  But do not delay.  Start now, whether your child be six or 16…

            “…I know of no better answer to these foul practices that confront our young people than the teachings of a mother, given in love with an unmistakable warning.  There will be failures, yes.  There will be heartbreaking disappointments.  There will be tragedies, bleak and hopeless.  But in the very many cases, if the process begins early and continues there will be success and happiness and love and much of gratitude.  Opening your purse and handing a son or daughter money before you rush off to work will not do.  It may only lead to more evil practice.

            “…Teach your children when they are very young and small, and never quit.  As long as they are in your home, let them be your primary interest.”

And this final quote from President Hinckley:

            “Do not trade your birthright as a mother for some bauble of passing value.  Let your first interest be in your home.  The baby you hold in your arms will grow quickly as the sunrise and the sunset of the rushing days.  I hope that when that occurs you will not be led to exclaim as did King Lear, ‘How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child!’.  Rather, I hope that you will have every reason to be proud concerning your children, to have love for them, to have faith in them, to see them grow in righteousness and virtue before the Lord, to see them become useful and productive members of society.  If with all you have done there is an occasional failure, you can still say, ‘At least I did the very best of which I was capable.  I tried as hard as I knew how.  I let nothing stand in the way of my role as a mother.’ Failures will be few under such circumstances…May you not trade a present thing of transient value for the greater good of sons and daughters, boys and girls, young men and women for whose upbringing you have an inescapable responsibility.”

            Sisters, the words of the prophet are clear.  Our primary interest should be in our homes.  The very spiritual lives of our children depends upon us being there.

            As leaders of young women, do we understand our calling of motherhood well enough to teach these future mothers of its importance?  Are we teaching the truths of eternity, by following the counsel of our prophet and exemplifying our most sacred and eternal calling of motherhood?  Or in our own lives, are we looking more and more like the women of the world?

            Take a moment with me to see a vision.  Picture in your mind what would happen if every single woman in our stake, regardless of circumstances decided to follow the counsel of our prophets and they chose to stay home.  Now, there are exceptions to this counsel, but I do not want to discuss the exceptions.  Let’s just pretend everyone whether they have children or not, whether they are single or not, whether they are grandmothers or not—what ever their circumstance, in their hearts, they have decided they are not an exception to the prophet’s words & they have chosen to embrace their calling as mothers.  What would those women do with their time?  Would they not tend to the elderly and home-bound, relieving the burdens of the bishops and relief society presidents?  Wouldn’t they help young mothers tend and discipline young children and assist them with overwhelming household responsibilities, strengthening those sisters in their testimonies of the importance of motherhood?  Wouldn’t they provide tutoring to struggling youth and college students?  Would they help young women create and alter clothing to strengthen their values of modesty and help them become beautiful?  Would they be more available to put their heart into their visiting teaching, preparations of their family home evenings, their personal scripture study & personal and family prayers?

            Sisters, our choice to work outside of the home directly impacts our ability to attend to our eternal calling and the example we set for the young women.  As mothers and leaders, Heavenly Father is trusting us to help instill and foster within these young women a testimony of their value before Him in fulfilling the role He designed for them.  A woman, young or old who has such a testimony and understanding will find immense joy in her role as mother.  She will not be unsatisfied or easily lulled away from her primary responsibilities.

           

            Sisters, at this time in our lives, we have been given the charge to teach and train some of the most spiritually valiant young women the world has ever seen.  Are we teaching them to value what the Lord values, particularly through our example?   We are those beacon lights for them.  Are we shining and climbing in the direction the Lord wants them headed?  Do we look different enough from the world?  Do we have a personal testimony of the eternal calling given to us by our Father in Heaven?  (my talk ended here, but I can’t seem to get the italics off…)

The most important teaching tool we have is our example.  That is true for others around us, but most importantly for our children.  We need to live what we want and expect of them.  If you are serving in the YW and you want them to do their Personal Progress, as leaders, you should be working on your personal progress, even if you completed it before.  If you are at girls’ camp and you want your YW to certify, you need to complete the certifications right along with them. 

Leading by example shows our children that we value what we are telling them.  Our words are important enough to us that we live them.  Those children see the intimate details of our lives.  They know what they are taught in church or school or by us.  When our behavior does not match our words, they notice.  Their brains are working and trying to figure out why we tell them one thing but  do another.  They are usually left to come up with their own conclusions for the in-congruence of  our behavior, because it isn’t something they feel like they can talk to us about.  At least while they are little.  As teenagers, they will call us on our behavior and if we are at all dismissive or defensive about the conversation, they will know they now have a weapon to use anytime they do not want to do what we tell them to.  (Power struggles ensue from here.)

 I love my role as Mother!  I know there is nothing I can do that is more important than the teaching and training of my children.  No amount of honor, worldly prestige, or money will compensate me if my children have difficult lives because they have not become moral and righteous people.  And if I spend all my days working toward that goal and they still turn out badly, I can stand proudly before God and tell Him that I did everything within my power and ability to help that child make better choices, and I will be satisfied that I did what I was called to do.

And I will close with this quote from President Eyring (We Must Raise our Sights, Ensign September, 2004):

            “The world in which young people live is changing rapidly.  When their older brothers and sisters return to visit the same schools and campuses they attended, they find a radically different moral climate.  The language in the hallways and the locker rooms has coarsened.  Clothing is less modest.  Pornography has moved into the open.  Not only has tolerance for wickedness increased, but much of what was called wrong is no longer condemned at all and may, even by our Latter-day Saint youth, be admired.  Parents and leaders have in many cases bent to the pressures coming from a shifting world to retreat from moral standards once widely accepted.

           “The spiritual strength sufficient for our youth to stand firm just a few years ago will soon not be enough.  Many of them are remarkable in their spiritual maturity and in their faith.  But even the best of them are sorely tested.  And the testing will become more severe.

            “The youth are responsible for their own choices.  But as faithful parents, teachers, leaders, and friends, we shore up the faith of young people.  And we must raise our sights.

  

          “The place to begin is with our aim, our vision of what we seek in the lives of our young people.”

 
As we raise our sights, and what we expect of them, and lead them by our example, our youth will follow and be the beacon, guiding light our world so desperately needs.

In the last two months, our two oldest boys have had plans that haven’t gone quite as expected.  They weren’t little plans.  Spanky was going to be married and his plans fell through.  Slim’s graduate school attendance has been put on hold.

copyright:  Karen Larsen photography

My friend’s plans (in this post FFF #26) changed drastically when her husband was killed.  They were making plans to have another baby.

My friends in this post (FFF #25) never planned on their husbands having cancer and having to fight that battle.

We all have times when life throws us curve balls, where things happen to us that were unexpected and unplanned.  Those are difficult times.

We had been married a year and just had a brand new baby when we found out our baby would need emergency surgery, maybe not live through the surgery, ended up being in newborn ICU for a month, and had a colostomy for two and a half years, and during that two years had another 3 major surgeries and 7 minor ones, during which time we also found out he had would go into anaphylactic shock when exposed to peanuts.  We had a new baby, who was born with a heart murmur and spent a night or two in the hospital, and we were both in school during that period of time, too.  It was a crazy, crazy time.  I think back to those days and it just appears as a big nightmare, a bad dream.  It doesn’t seem real that we did those things.

But, whenever I am faced with some one’s tragedy, whose is similar to what I experienced, the feelings come back.  I know what they need.  I know what they are thinking and feeling.  I know what I can do to help.

My thought with this post is what can we do when our plans completely fall apart and life is drastically different than we thought?  How can we emotionally handle the difficulties we are facing?  It is very normal to go through the grief process when anything unexpected happens that causes us loss.  It may be loss of a spouse, friend, or family member; loss of an opportunity; loss of hopes, dreams, or plans.  Usually the major loss (that of a person or things falling through) is accompanied with smaller losses (our plans, hopes, dreams with that person or opportunity) so loss is not just one thing, but it is multiple losses.  Our grief may surface many times as we are managing the day to day and ‘new’ loss comes to our attention.

copyright: Karen Larsen photography

So let’s talk a little about the grieving process.  I am going to list them as steps, but don’t think you can just choose which one you want to be on.  It doesn’t work like that.  Those going through the grieving process will usually pass through each stage on their own.  Unfortunately with grief, there is no time table.  You also do not get to pick and choose.  It is a process.  Social scientists have been able to document the process and study it.  They believe it to be fairly universal, though not everyone gets to the acceptance stage.

The first part is Denial and Isolation.  It is normal to deny the reality of what has just happened to us, or the loss we have just experienced.  It is also normal to want to avoid other people.  You are struggling to manage your own emotions and the current and unexpected reality you are facing.  Having to think about other people or their problems and managing your behavior in the current state is stressful and added ‘stuff’ for you to try to manage in your already difficult emotional situation.  Give yourself permission to isolate yourself as you come to terms with your feelings.  It is OK.  If you have small children who need your supervision and love, see if a friend or family member can take them to play or do something fun so you can have a few hours to grieve.  If, however, your children are also grieving, be extra sensitive to the fact that if your push them away, now they have added grief because of your emotional struggles.  Grieve together.  Pull them out of school so they can be isolated as well and not have to face the questions of others.  They are having a similar experience to yours.  Their loss is just as real, and because small children do not always know what they are feeling, they may not have any idea or words to give you to express their needs.  But recognize they are there and they need you to help them meet their needs.

Anger usually follows denial.  When my friend’s husband died unexpectedly, she would tell me that she spent the evening  yelling at his photo.  She was so hurt and so angry that he just died unexpectedly and left her to manage everything all alone.  She was angry at others and the things they said about the accident and about her family.  I just listened to her when she wanted to vent.  She needed to know it was OK that she was angry.  It was also alright for her to let others know she was angry.  She needed to choose a safe place to put her anger.  That was me.  It would not have been appropriate or healthy to vent at her children.  They would not understand or know what to do with that.  They may internalize it and think she was mad at them because their father died.  What would that do to their little self-esteem?  They will have their own anger in their own time because their father is gone.  When that happens, their mother will need to be patient with them and help them to know that their anger is OK.  She can give them appropriate ways to show their anger.  For example, “when you are angry because your father is gone you can go and punch the punching bag, or write him a nasty letter, or go out and paint the fence!”  If you give them positive places and behaviors to manage their anger, they will learn how to appropriately manage their anger in the future.  If you do not want them, for instance, hitting people when they are angry, maybe you wouldn’t want to allow them to punch the punching bag (or teach them to hit things when they are mad—different people will have different philosophies about what would be appropriate behavior when they are angry).  And if you are at a total loss for thinking of an appropriate behavior, then pray about it.  The Lord knows you and your little person.  He knows perfectly how he/she is feeling and what behaviors would help your little person through their grieving process.

copyright: Karen Larsen photography

Step three is called Bargaining.  The idea is basically that you second guess yourself or the circumstances or situation.  If you had just done things a little differently, this tragedy would not have happened to you.  Or for a pending tragedy (terminal illness of yourself or a loved one), if you (God, or the powers that be) will just take this away from us, I will…….(fill in the blank).  This is normal.  None of us want to do things that are hard for us or painful.  It is not a sign of a healthy person to want to inflict pain on ourselves.  We want to be in control and sometimes we are willing to make a deal in order to avoid pain or think that if we had only (done this) then (our tragedy) wouldn’t have happened.  But the truth is, we are not in control, as much as we would like to believe we are.  Someone else is.  I believe and know He is our Father in Heaven, who loves us, understands us more than we understand ourselves, and has a bigger perspective than we can really know.  What is the scripture, “For my thoughts are not thy thoughts, nor my ways thy ways….”  something like that. (Isaiah 55:8-9)  His plan is what is best for us, even though we may not have the same understanding or perspective.  We can have faith in His plan, even when it hurts.  Here is a talk about putting our trust in Him during times of trial.  Elder Anderson, October 2012, Trial of Your Faith. 

As your shock, anger, and second guessing subside, the reality of your situation and circumstances sets in.  (My linear description is apparently not completely accurate.  Grief is not necessarily a linear progression. The stages can occur in any order.)  Some people label this step as Depression.  I prefer to label it Mourning.  It is just deep, deep sadness where you feel your loss profoundly.  Again, there is no time-table here.  Each person will experience their loss uniquely.  Others may want those experiencing loss to ‘snap-out of it’ or ‘get on with it’.  But those experiencing their loss just need time and understanding and support.  Sometimes you may think you are doing well and moving on, and then your mourning may over-take you again.  That is alright and just a part of how you or others are managing the grieving process.  My sweet friend had a dream one night that life for her was like it was before her husband died.  She woke up in the morning to face the reality of her situation, again.  That was a really, really hard day for her.  But you know what?  It showed that she was moving through her grief.  She was able to dream about her life and what she thought it was going to be.  It did make the next day hard, but those are the same feelings she will have when she crosses the veil and sees her sweetheart again.  He is not gone forever.  He is just gone for mortality.

The last step is recognized as Acceptance.  This stage is characterized by continuing to build your life in light of your new circumstances, either without your loved one, or without your original hopes and dreams.  Some people never make it here.  Some are so sad and so upset that maybe they do not ever leave anger, or they get stuck in mourning.

copyright:  Karen Larsen photography

Each of us will respond based on our understanding and knowledge about mortality and our purposes here on earth.  When our oldest son was so sick and so little, the people who had the most difficult time with his illness and the possibility of his death were those who did not share our faith and understanding of the plan of salvation.  For example, Drew and I knew that if our Slim were to die as an infant, he would be saved in the Celestial Kingdom, which meant that one of our children made it!  Then our job would be to do all that we could to be worthy to be there with him.  We would see him again one day.  We would rejoice in his mortality together even though it would have been cut short.  And if he didn’t die, we would get to keep him!!  (Personally, with as difficult as he was for us to raise, I was often reminded that I had prayed for his life and now it was time for me to do my part—double edged sword, that kid!)  Those were our thoughts during those days.  They were filled with plenty of tears, plenty of prayers, and a lot of loneliness, even though it was a short period.

copyright:  Karen Larsen photography

I do not want you to think that I am equating Slim’s illness with other people’s greater losses.  I guess the point is that we each have loss, to one degree or another.  We experience the grief process, to one degree or another.  I went through the process when my grandparents were unexpectedly killed in an automobile accident when I was 13.  I went through it again when my parents divorced, though I kind of stuffed all of that inside and it has been a lot of years coming out.  Spanky experienced it with his broken engagement.  My friend who lost her spouse and her children, and my two friends with terminal illnesses and their sweet families are going through it now.

Life is not meant to be easy.  It is to minister to our growth and development.  Sometimes, we only learn certain things, by the trials and loss we face.  But when we do so with faith, and we have an idea of what is happening and how to put things into perspective, we can eventually be made whole again, through the miracle of the atonement of our Savior.

Spike, Spike turns three today.  Where has the time gone?  I wanted to have a current photo, but we are still having camera issues, so you’ll just have to imagine from Christmas.

My little man says the funniest things!  He has a fire car that he calls his ‘wooo who woooo who car’ because it has a siren and when you open the doors, the siren goes on and the lights too, of course.  When people ask about the car, which is painted red, he assures them it is a police car, even though it says ‘fire’ on the side.  Oh well.

Yesterday he was hilarious!  We were visiting a friend to check out her backyard.  It was a huge mound of dirt that she has been trying to clear away and build a retaining wall.  There is still quite a little mound out there and her little guy put one of his toys on the top of it where no one could reach it.  Spike wanted to get it down so he tried to start climbing the mound.  Finally he looks at me and says, ‘I can’t climb that.  It’s too steep.’  I just looked at him totally confused.  What three year old knows the word ‘steep’ and how to use it??  And where did he hear it anyway?

With his dust allergy, we have been putting in hardwood floors, which has been a little crazy, but seems to have made a big difference, so far.

Let’s see…..

Spike, I want you to know how fiercely I love you.  You crack me up.  You are so demanding and insistent about me helping you when, where and how you want it that sometimes I have to go outside and just breath before I can help.  You are exhausting.  If I were a younger mom, you would be having a really, really hard time.  I would be so much less patient and less kind.  You are so very sensitive.  You can tell how people are feeling just by the looks on their faces and the tone in their voices.

Two days ago, as we were all moving the furniture back into one of the bedrooms because the floor had just been laid that day, I came into the kitchen to find you using my four cup measuring cup, scooping out sugar onto the floor and spreading all over the kitchen.  I didn’t lose my cool.  I simply said, “No Spike, No.  This is not OK,” and I took it away from you and escorted you kindly out of the kitchen.  It broke your heart and you started sobbing.  I wasn’t even angry and my tone was kind, just firm.  You cried and cried until I came into you, hugged you, and told you that I wasn’t mad, but we couldn’t make a mess in the kitchen.

It is so very, very good that your siblings love you!  You still get up every night, sometimes two or three times.  (I think it is mostly due to allergies.)  But your sister gets up with you every night and then you usually climb over your bed and into hers and snuggle with her until the morning.  You love to talk on the phone, or SKYPE on the computer to your brothers who are away at college.  And you pray for all of them and for our missionaries.

You require all of my effort and energy, but you love all of us and you give the very best hugs and kisses, especially before bed time.  And you are so funny.  When you smell something that is nasty, you say, “Peeeuuuusky.”

The most important things are that you know Jesus loves you and you recognize his pictures.  I love you dearly and when you are sleeping I watch you and am just in awe of how full my heart is when I look at you.  (I don’t feel that way, however, when you are screaming in my face and kicking and flailing your body because I won’t do what you want.  I really don’t like that.)

But thanks for coming to our house.  We love you, attitude and all!
Love Mom

Here is my sacrament meeting talk for today.  As most of you will not be in my ward to hear it, I feel safe putting it out here on the blog.  But if you choose to reference it, please be kind and give credit where credit is due.  (I have tried to do likewise by posting the links to my information.)

thehartcenter.com

• Put their trust in God continually
• Obey
• Observe to perform every word of command with exactness

• we will be consoled in our afflictions
• the Savior will plead our cause
• our sins will be remitted
• humility
• the continued presence of the Holy Ghost
• revelation and knowledge
• increased faith
• increased hope
• greater charity

• we will be consoled in our afflictions
• the Savior will plead our cause
• our sins will be remitted
• humility
• the continued presence of the Holy Ghost
• revelation, knowledge
• increased faith
• increased hope
• increased charity
• it will be given unto us what to pray for
• our wills will be aligned with God’s
• Because we are obedient, faithful, repentant, and praying for what is inline with God’s will, it will be done unto us according to our faith (we will have answers to our prayers)
• we will be a light unto the world
• We will be converted, healed, and have eternal life
• And as it says in 3rd Nephi 12:8, blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God….because we shall be like Him.

And that is how we become the pure in heart and come unto the Savior.

When I was a younger mother of four, I had a close friend who had nine children (6 girls and 3 boys).  We were talking one day and she said, “I think it is important to pamper the children, especially the boys.”

When Sport was the baby (1998)

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.  I didn’t necessarily disagree with her, but I also wasn’t sure I agreed with her.  I mean, there is a point where you want your children to feel loved and special, but you also want them to learn how to work (and work hard) and how to discipline themselves.  I wasn’t sure how the two concepts could go hand in hand.  Now, however, I think I have found a balance.  (Not that I will be able to explain it to you, but I’ll give it my best shot!)

This morning might be a prime example.  I have two very high maintenance and demanding children who are currently the ‘book ends’ of our family.  Even though one is an adult (23), he has spent the last four-ish years doing things that have been really difficult for him (college and mission).  He also pushes himself beyond his abilities sometimes (a lot of times).  He runs and runs and runs until he crashes.  Over the last six months, he has crashed, though he did manage to finish college before he dropped.  He has had multiple concussions and because he pushes himself so far, he has not healed properly.  Right now, he is home recuperating.  He needs consistent meals (we are talking six, not three) and sleep (sometimes 2 naps in the day, depending upon how his head is doing and what he did the day before). 

Life is hard out there for those young men.  They need a safe place where they can come home and relax and be cared for.  They need to know they are loved.  When they are little, they also need those things.  Why?

What does it communicate to our little men to have them feel loved and pampered?

I think it ministers to the kind of men they become.  If they experience life with safety and security, where their needs (physical, emotional, and spiritual) are met, they have a reference and understanding for how to treat others and engender in them similar feelings.  They are more compassionate, more kind, more sensitive to the needs of others.  Those are the kind of men we need more of in the world.

Now, I am not talking about ‘sissy’ men who are so pampered that they cannot be men and protect their families and work hard and fight in a war, if necessary.  Slim is home recuperating, because life has been difficult and he is injured.  He is capable of fighting the world and fighting it alone if necessary.  I do not ‘quash’ the masculinity out of my men.  On the contrary, I expect them to be hard workers, and have strength, tenacity, determination, and fight inside of them, and for the most part, they do.  But I also want them to be capable of sensitivity to the needs and plights of others.  I want them to be men with a heart.

So my examples this morning are two fold, one where two of my boys asked for something for breakfast that was important for them but required me to make two different things.  Spike asked for pancakes for dinner last night and I told him I would make them for breakfast.  Then at breakfast, before Spike was awake, Slim asked for muffins.  I made them both.

Smiley, however, had a different morning experience.  I asked him to empty the dishwasher (a five minute or less job) and he came in with an attitude and slammed the cupboards.  I told him to go out, I would do it myself.  Then I let him know it would be his job to wash all the dishes for the entire day even though he did them last night.  Well, you probably shouldn’t have such a major attitude over such a minor issue, or as your mother, I am likely to find plenty of other, less pleasant things for you to be doing with your time.

Ya’…you wanna have an attitude?

Bring it on!!!  I’m pretty sure your mother can have a bigger one!

So I had the feeling I should do some genealogy work yesterday and I started rummaging through my drawer that has all of that in there, when I came across this story.  I am waiting for a photo from my aunt to add to it, but the story is so very sweet and exciting, that I didn’t want to wait.  I typed it up and attached it to her name in family tree.  Now when anyone pulls up her name, her story will be right there too.  And when I get a photo, I’ll add that to family tree and here to the blog.  My grandfather typed the story up (I guess), as he had it written in her hand so the first and last paragraphs are his, but the story is hers.  Enjoy reading it, she is an amazing, faith-filled woman.  (No photos yet, just the story and doing some research, I would guess this is about 1864 or 65–She was married to Henry in 1860.  If the dates are correct, she was 17.  And their little Jimmy was born in 63, when she would have been 20.)

 This is the story as told to me (OB Biggs) by my Grandmother–of her life and some of her trials as lived in Missouri and Kentucky at the beginning of and during the War between the States. Mary Elizabeth Weddle told many interesting stories of those trying days, none of which impressed me as much as this one.

Grandma Weddle:

Back in Missouri, we lived a happy little family of five. My husband had been married and had a little boy–his Billy. I also had been married and had a son of my own–George. We were very happy when our little boy, Jimmy, came along. We farmed and owned our own place. A colored family lived in the corner of the yard and the woman, Eliza would help me with the children and also with the general work around the house. Her man, Ned, helped my husband in the field.

 My mother, father, and a sister, Emmelyn, lived near to us. We had lovely neighbors and everyone was happy. Then the terrible war broke out and my husband had to leave. What grief for me to make a living for three little boys! I had had no experience in much of anything except caring for my babies and home. I spent sleepless nights and walked the floor day by day. However, we had a big supply of meats, lard, beans, and cornmeal; also a barrel of sugar and plenty of coffee. I thought surely the war would be over soon, but at the end of three months, my husband, Henry, got a furlough to come home and see how we were getting along. Oh, the happiness that I knew when I saw him coming, for I thought surely the war was over. On the contrary, he brought the sad news that the war would last three or four years. I tried to be very brave and told him we would get along somehow. I had to learn to do so many things that I didn’t understand, but with all my brave ado, my husband was very sad because he didn’t know when he left that time when he would see his family again, if ever. I just couldn’t realize it was so bad–we didn’t have newspapers or telephones to tell us how bad it really was.

 My husband left and promised to try and get another furlough as soon as he could, but it was six months before he came home again and then it was for only two days. He told us then how bad it really was and what we could expect.

He got busy, took up the kitchen floor and dug a big hole where he buried our food and told us not to let anybody know that we had hid it there. We only left a small supply in the house and after we had stored most of it in the hole, he nailed the floor back down. Henry told us that we had better have mother, father, and my sister come live with us, for there was a bunch of men called Bushwhackers going through the country robbing the houses of all the food they could lay their hands on and for us to be very careful who we talked to when he was gone again. We didn’t know whether we would ever see him again or not, but we had to carry on.

 I had a nice fat little mare which I dearly loved and my husband told me to keep her hid out in a big thicket not too far from the barn, so I took my side saddle out there and hid them both. We got along alright for a while and then it was rumored that the Bushwhackers were doing a lot of meanness in the country again so my father decided that it wasn’t safe for him to stay at the house. He was quite old, but could get around pretty good. There was a big cave in the side of a mountain about a mile from the house so he decided that that was where he would hide out. Neither my mother, sister, or I could get down to where he was to take him some food. We had a neighbor living about two miles from us whose man was in the army, but they had two boys about twelve and fourteen who volunteered to take father’s meals to him. This arrangement went on for some time and when a stranger would come and ask for the man of the house, we would just say that he had gone to look for the oxen or he had gone rabbit hunting and hope that that would be the last bunch to come through the country. My mother was worrying herself sick, so afraid that they would find him and besides, he was getting mighty feeble from staying in the damp cave.

Just about this time, we heard that there was a band coming through the country stealing and burning as they went. We were very afraid early one morning when mother saw a man come riding down the road real fast. She went to crying and saying she knew they had found Papa, but I got her quieted before he got to the door and wanted to know where the old man was. I began to tell him the old story about him out looking for the oxen and mother began to cry saying look on his bridle. The man said, like hell he is, look here. He reached down pulled at the resilett and the nebuie mother had knit for him to wear in the cave. He said, we have found him and mean to kill him but will bring him home before we do. The neighbor woman whose two boys were carrying food to the cave had told where he was. They brought Papa up to the house and had him chained. There were a lot of women with this gang and while the men took up the floor and found our food the women ransacked the house and took all of my pretty linens and keepsakes off the mantle. Then they went to the barn and found the trail I had made going to the thicket to feed my little mare. There was a young fellow that had a very young girl on an old horse and side saddle. He took her off and saddled my mare and put her on her. I was ready to fight then and grabbed the bridle. The young fellow said, drop that or I’ll kill you. I looked at my father sitting there and he shook his head to me to let them alone so I did. They were taking all our food so my father asked them to please leave the old woman and children a mess of meal. One man gave him a kick and said, well, I shouldn’t but I will, so he poured out a small pan full and set it on the table.

Then they took my father out and set fire to the house and all we could get out was just what we could carry out while the house burned. My mother was crying and took the pan of cornmeal and held it in her lap. They carried my father about a half mile down the road and crossed a small stream of water. On the far bank, he knelt and was praying, they shot him and walked off. It took my sister to care for my mother so I ran down to where I heard the shots and saw him across the creek. Not thinking how deep the water might be, I jumped in and it was up to my arms before I got over and I couldn’t swim a lick. But in those days, I didn’t think of myself, though I only weighed ninety-eight pounds and hardly five feet tall.

 I ran up on the bank and laid my father back on the ground, put a little piece of wood under his head and took out his red bandanna handkerchief and tied it around his head. Then I almost fainted for his brains come out on my hand so I knew there wasn’t anything I could do but stand it. I went in search of a neighbor woman to help me carry him to the place where the house had burned. In those days fo[u]r or five miles was a close neighbor, but I got help. We nailed two boards together and put him on it. We had to walk a half mile down the creek and cross with the body over where a big tree had fallen across the stream. Me and this good woman dug a grave under a big Elm tree, wrapped my father in the new quilts my mother had made and laid him to rest.

We moved into our smoke house and the problem for me then was to find something for my three little boys, mother, and sister to eat. The next morning I took the old horse that had been left in place of my little mare and started out. I had heard of a crib of corn about forty miles from where we lived and I didn’t know when I bid my little family good-bye when I would ever see them again, but it was that or see them starve. Some how I made it there and back and took the corn the next day to the mill and had it ground. In all this time I had not heard from my Henry, but I knew we had to leave Missouri, so we began to make arrangements to move to Texas. All the women for miles around began to make plans for the move and mother would be sitting around crying. She was so poorly that I thought I would lose her before we got started. But the day came when it was time to start. I had two sacks of corn meal and had dug up the dirt in the smoke house, poured water over it and then boiled it down to make my salt. So the day came when we started our long drive through to Texas.

 There were twenty-three wagons of women and children–they called it the wagon train. And what a mixed bunch it was!! Some cussed all the time and some prayed—some had to be sick and depend upon others. My older sister, Jane, that lived about a hundred miles south of us, joined the wagons as we passed. Her husband was evading the war and we didn’t think much of him. It made me mad to think of what my Henry was going through and we had to get along without his help. It did make me proud of my Southern soldier husband. Henry’s stepmother had her wagon with us–she was very old and had a little colored boy named Joey that drove her oxen. We had been on the road some time and hadn’t found any corn or other food and I was getting worried. One evening a man rode up–we were always meeting horse-back riders, some Northern and Southern soldiers and I wouldn’t talk to them unless they mentioned food. This man asked how our crew was holding out and I told him how hard up we were. He told me that the next day we would come to a barn where a big bunch of hogs bed up at night and that we could have one if we could kill it. We camped the next evening and after dark, when the hogs had got bedded down, I went out with my butcher knife and took the little negro boy, Joey, with me. I picked out a small pig that I thought we could handle, knocked it in the head and stuck it. Then Joey and I grabbed it and drug it over the fence before the other hogs knew what was going on. There were a lot of big hogs in there and they could’ve given us plenty of trouble.

All the women began saying we will all be murdered. Grandma Tucker was mighty mad but I let little Joey eat with us that night and the next morning. Grandma sat by herself and ate her bread and drank her water. But the next morning she came and said, well Lizzie, we weren’t bothered last night so you can give me Joey’s part of the meat! We hung up the hog up on a limb and skinned it—that was the only way we had to dress it. Some of the women went out and caught little pigs that night, although they pretended to be so afraid that they would be caught with meat in the wagons. Then the next few days we met some men that told us that in about twenty miles we would come to a big crib of corn and they told me how I could find the road leading to it about twenty miles off our route.

The next morning I saddled the old horse—not knowing if he could carry me and a sack of corn or not–but about noon I came in sight of the large barn, a big double log one. I saw four horses tied there and as I came closer, I saw four men sitting on a blanket playing cards. I was scared to death but couldn’t give up and me so close to that crib of corn. I thought of my three little boys and rode up on them. They jumped up and threw the blanket over the cards and one of them asked me if I came for a sack of corn and I said yes I did. He told me to just sit still and they would get it for me. They shucked and shelled a sack of corn in about thirty minutes, brought it and tied it to my saddle. I left there not knowing whether or not I would make it or not. It seemed to me that the poor old horse would stagger with his burden at times. While I had been gone, there had come up a thunder storm and several of the little creeks were up, it was getting dark and I tried to hurry the old horse up. Lightening had struck a tree and it had fallen across the road, but we were too close to our family to let that stop us. The good old animal gave a big leap and cleared the tree. I am sure if a picture could have been taken of that jump, I would never have appeared more graceful in my life. After that I came to love the critter and felt that some of my prayers had been answered.

My mother was so glad to see me for she thought when I would leave to get food, she might never see me again. Most of the women were afraid that we might be killed for taking things like that, but it was that or starve. The corn was left because the houses had been burned but they would not burn the barn where the corn was. One day we passed a cane patch and decided to camp there. The cane was ripe and I cut some of it and twisted it for enough juice to boil down and make syrup. The little boys were so happy they cried and said they sure would have some syrup on their bread that night. Oh, the grief of those days but it made my faith stronger than ever.

We traveled for days and days–the women complaining and crying for bread. Every once in a while a wagon would drop out. You know our wagons had wooden axles and if they were loaded too heavy they would catch on fire. We were traveling along one evening when six or eight men rode up and wanted to know how we were getting along. They noticed our wagons and one of them said that we would come to a pine grove the next day and that if we would gather the pine knots and put them on a flat rock, cutting a little trench in the rock, then build a fire on the pine knots, we would get enough tar to grease our wagons. Some of the women laughed about it, but just the same, the next day we came to the grove and I began to gather the pine knots. Next morning I had a nice can of tar to grease my wagon axles. They begged for some to grease their wagons but, as they had had the same chance that I had had they didn’t get any of mine.

Then we began to have trouble with our oxen. They took some kind of sickness that we couldn’t do anything about, so when a wagon lost its oxen the train had to go on and leave it behind.

 All of this time I had not heard a word from my husband. My brother-in-law would dart in and out to see my sister but we didn’t have anything to do with him. He would bring coffee for my sister and my mother would smell it cooking and cry because she only had parched corn to makeshift coffee with. We had been traveling for weeks and our corn meal was running out and I was so worried for everything in that part of the country was gone. However, one evening we came to a big pumpkin patch and I began to gather them and put them in the wagon–as many as we could hold. By this time, the salt that I had made was gone and the corn meal was out so we lived on stewed pumpkin for one week. Then we came to an old barn where a house had been and we camped there. The next morning about four o’clock I heard a rooster crow. I got up and ran him down and we had stewed chicken. The following day was very damp and rainy so we stopped under a big tree. Shortly after we made camp three men rode up and asked us how our food was holding out and we told him that it wasn’t holding out at all. They told us that about noon the next day we would come to a big plantation that the governor had left to feed the widows and orphans and they told us to stop there and ask for something. I could not sleep that night, just hoping and praying that nothing would happen until we could reach this place. My little boys had begun showing signs of the one week stewed pumpkin diet and they were entitled to a change.

We were up and off at day break. Sure enough, about noon we came in sight of the big house which stood about a hundred yards off the road. I told my sister to take care of the oxen and I would go up to the house and ask for food. Now I want to tell you just how I looked and I remember right. I had on a cotton check dress and shoes—something I had not had in a long time. My feet were sore from having to walk beside the oxen. I didn’t look any too good. I knocked on the door and an old lady answered it and I told her what I wanted and what we had lived on for the past two weeks. She said, you poor child, for she thought I was. When I told her about my three little boys she could hardly believe it. She seemed very worried for some reason then she said if her son came to the door before his wife did that we would get something, but if she came to the door then we wouldn’t get anything. I sure began to pray that her son would get there first. She sent a little colored boy on the run to the field to bring her son and pretty soon he came and he gave me a bushel of ground corn meal and told me to take it to the wagon and hurry back. I almost ran to the wagon and when I came back, he gave me a big middlen of meat and he asked me if I could carry that much and I told him I sure could because I didn’t want him to cut any off. He helped me steady it on my head and I made it to the wagon. The three children met me yelling that now they would have ham for supper. The man told me to hurry back for some salt and the dear old Grandmother said she would give me some milk and butter. By this time I was getting very weak and as I came out the gate with the sack of salt a lady in a double buggy with a colored driver came up and tried to make me take the salt back. Just as soon as I got back we started the wagon for I was afraid that she would come and make us take the meal and meat back. We didn’t camp until some time after dark. By this time, we didn’t have very many wagons in the train and we were nearing the Red River. We had been told that the crossings were very dangerous and I was worried, wondering if we would ever make it. We came into the river three days later and one of my oxen died. I still had the horse and rode three days trying to find an oxen I could trade him for. I decided to try the river before I let him go and rode across and then took the wagon over. We were in Texas! But, where to go, I didn’t know. By this time our food was running low again. One evening about three o’clock, a shower came up and we stopped under a tree for shelter. There were only two wagons left now. We were waiting there for the shower to pass when two men rode up and got under the tree also to get out of the rain. One of the men looked at my little stepson and said there was a man in a train on wagons hauling food for the army that that little boy belongs to–the man’s name is Henry–and he has often wondered if you still had the little boy or if you had sent him to his sister. I told him it couldn’t be my Henry because he would know better than that. My husband had got word some how that we had left Missouri but did not know where we were headed for.

My little stepson that I often speak of had been born with a hairlip and it was easily noticeable. This man said that he knew it was him and if you will camp tomorrow night at a lake which you will come to early in the evening, I’ll send him to you. What a joy it was to even think that it might be Henry, but it had been eighteen months since I had heard from him and couldn’t believe it. The children were over joyed and even Mother was happy! But I was afraid to hope because I was almost at the end of my rope.

We were up before daylight the next morning—little Billy was so excited and kept telling me get up, that we would see Papa that day. We traveled all day and late that evening I saw a man coming down the road on a mule and I knew it was my Henry, but I couldn’t say a word. He rode up and jumped off and took me in his arms.

Mother began to cry and tell him about Father and all the little boys holding to his pants leg. He picked me up in his arms and sat down on a rock beside the road and then the tears began to run down my face. He camped with us that night and told us that he had been wounded and that was why he was driving the wagon of food to the front.

 He took us to a small house that was on his line of travel and he came by once a month and would bring us food and stay all night. It was there we lived until the war was over and he came home for good.

 (The story of my Grandmother–Mary Elizabeth Weddle–written in her own words. What a wonderful faith in God she had–a great and heroic woman—one among many during those trying days. OB Biggs)

Well, having one son currently serving in Brazil and one who returned from service in Brazil and the whole World Cup thingy lately (where our missionary tells us: whenever Brazil plays, we have to stay indoors all day because of possible riots and/or celebrating), there has been a little focus on how the church is growing in Brazil.  I just thought I’d let you know what they are saying!!

Here is a great video about it:

A story in this month’s Ensign, The Church in Brazil:  The Future has Finally Arrived.  (Remember to just change the ‘eng’ at the end of the link to put the article in your language.

And there is an article in the Church News:  Brazil is Part of the Heart of the Church

gringos.com

I just loved this little video too!  A great pick-me-up and reminder of what is important.  We do need to slow down and take time and spend it with those who matter the most.  This is especially significant to me as my two dear friends are battling for the lives of their spouses, and one just lost hers in April!  Enjoy the video!

Remember when I told you that I would share the story with you of why we needed to come home early for a baptism??  Well, here is her story:

weddinglds.com

Last year, I (Carin) noticed a young family periodically attending our ward—-mother, father and 2 young sons, I would later learn were 7 and 2 and 1/2.  The father almost always came.  The mother and the boys sometimes.  I thought I recognized her, but could not place her.

Fast forward to December-ish.  I recognized her as a checker at our local grocery store.  I also learned that her husband worked for the 2nd counselor in our stake presidency with 2 of his returned missionary sons (in a different ward).

I began looking for her at the grocery store and going through her line.  At one point, I introduced myself and said, “I think I have seen you at my church.”  She asked which one, because sometimes they went with her husband’s coworkers to the other ward.  I told her.  Then she said, “Ya’, I really like it.  I have been doing what they (the missionaries) asked and reading the book (Book of Mormon) and it really helps.  I have a better day when I read.”  I encouraged her to continue. Every week, I would look for her, go through her line, and we would have some small chat like that.

Her church attendance was really sporadic, but I knew she worked some Sundays and some Sundays may be at the other ward.  I kept encouraging her and we talked about her requesting Sundays off so she could come to church.  Around the end of March, I learned that the missionaries had dropped teaching the family.  What?!  That didn’t make any sense to me.

The next time I saw her (in the grocery store check out line), she told me that she had been having a difficult time because her father had been ill (had a stroke), but she had been fasting and praying for him because they (the missionaries) said it would help.  Now I knew the missionaries dropping them didn’t fit!  Why did they drop her?

I decided to figure it out.  We had the Sisters over for dinner and I asked about this family.  They said that she just wasn’t really interested.  He wanted to be baptized, but he wanted to wait for her and she just wasn’t interested or really ready, so they dropped them.  What?!  A non-interested person who reads, prays, attends church, and fasts????!!  I don’t think so.

I decided I needed more information.  I invited my friend and her family over for dinner.  It took us a few weeks to get things coordinated but they finally made it over Thursday night before Easter.  We just visited and got to know each other.  One point of our discussion revolved around his motorcycle that she did not want him to have.  She wouldn’t ride it with him.  She didn’t like it.  I asked my friend what it was about the missionaries’ message that bothered her, or that she questioned, or didn’t understand or didn’t like.  She said they would ask her ‘What has Jesus Christ done for you?’ but she didn’t know who Jesus Christ was.  It became obvious that she did not have a Christian background.  I asked both of them about their religious upbringing.  He was Catholic.  OK.  I didn’t recognize her religion.  (I thought I knew most of them because I had a Religions of the World class but I couldn’t categorize hers.)  I asked her to explain it to me.  At the conclusion of our discussion, Drew took 5 minutes (literally five minutes, which if you know my spouse is a miracle!) to explain who God is, who His son Jesus Christ is, the Holy Ghost, and a very, very basic outline of the Plan of Salvation.  We wrapped it up and they went on their way.

Sunday morning, an hour and a half before church, we got a phone call from one of the returned missionaries her husband worked with.  The husband had gone out late that night to blow off some steam and ride his motorcycle.  He had lost control of the bike, had an accident, and been killed.  The police had been over that morning to let them know.  They had dinner with us on Thursday!  On Sunday morning he was gone.

Drew and I got dressed and went over, after Drew called and cancelled his meetings and let people know that he wasn’t sure he would be there for Sacrament meeting.  I was suppose to lead the music in Sacrament meeting.  Oh well.  They would figure it out. 

My friend’s family (brothers and sisters) were over helping with the children.  My friend came down the stairs and I just held her as she sobbed.

After some time, we sat down and just talked.  Then she said, “We always wanted to go to the temple and be a forever family.  I guess we’ll never get to do that now.”  My heart almost broke.  Drew and I quickly corrected that perception and helped her to know that some day she could still go to the temple, have her husband’s work done and if she was a member in good standing and she was worthy, and it had been at least a year since she had been baptized, she could then have her family sealed together for time and all eternity.  That was Easter morning.

The next few weeks were a blur as we had the funeral, helped her put some things in order, jumped through lots of legal hoops, and calmed her nerves, fears, anger and frustration at her husband and her situation.  Through it all she continued to attend church, but usually left after sacrament meeting because managing the boys was very difficult.

We started having her, the boys, and the sisters over for dinner about once a week as she again listened to the missionaries with a new heart.  Her prayers were more earnest and sincere.  Her desire to know was tangible and she was truly seeking.  She had some ups and downs, but eventually, she said, “I want this.  I know the feeling now—it is true and I want to be baptized.”

She chose to be baptized on her husband’s birthday—-and that is why we had to be home for her baptism!  We couldn’t very well ask her to change the date.

So on June 24th, 2014, my dear friend became the pioneer in her family.  She is the pivot point that brings all of her family who is willing to follow her into the fold of God–to experience all of the ordinances and covenants of the Priesthood available to them, if they are willing to change their hearts, as she changed hers.  That is one baptism we just couldn’t miss!

Life is still difficult and she is still making adjustments, but she is headed in the right direction and has the constant companionship of the Holy Ghost to help her out.  (And an entire stake has rallied around her!)

PS  Now she is attending all 3 hours of church 🙂