Jeff

This has been a wonderful day! Jeff graduated from ASU. He worked hard and has a degree now to prove it. There is something about that "Pomp and Circumstance" that makes you realize what a feat this is. Being in December, the class was small. Perfect for a guy that would just as soon get it done (when thinking of all the pre plans)) and kind of sad when it's finally here (because deep down, he really was proud of himself!).

We wanted to host a Mexican dinner and invite anyone he wanted. But after some careful thought (for a few days, trying to figure out how he was going to break it to us) he decided that Peter Piper Pizza was more up his alley. So, thanks to sweet Vita, friends, parents, Grandparents, sisters, brother in laws, nieces, uncles, aunts, and cousins were there with flying colors. The pizza was great and the cake and goodies were awesome, but those tokens were the highlight! Every size relative and friend disappeared into game land and played their hearts out. I don't think any one will forget Jeff's graduation party. Jeff knew that even though Mexican food sounded good, he needed a PARTY. That's just the kind of guy Jeff is. This was his party and he wanted everyone to come and have fun.

So, this morning, a happy grown man in a cap and gown with a diploma . . ..tonight, a happy grown kid in a T shirt and hoodie with a pocket full of tokens.

It makes a mother proud!

D.I.

It was a beautiful Friday morning. We got up early in order to be at DI by 8:00 AM. for a service assignment. Neither Randy or I had ever done this before and we anticipated learning the "inside" of how DI functions.

When we walked in through the VIP door, it was obviously the vacuum hour. We found ourselves yelling to communicate. We were led to an office door and presented to the secretary. We signed in, were given an official DI apron and color code chart to fit in the pocket. Another couple from our ward joined us. (This would be fun. We could work with our partners. . . NOT!) One by one we were separated and ushered to deep unknowns of this huge facility. Luckily, being the only one left, they found a place for me in the woman's department. (Yesss!) I felt safe there, unlike Randy, who they took deep inside a maze to the "used toy never, never land". (This wasn't a good experience for him!)

I was introduced to the department manager, who had to think hard for something for me to do. Finally, after slowly scanning the place and scratching his chin, he said, "Come 'ere", and motioned to follow him to the "back". Past a huge dry cleaning room that took my breath away because of the humidity, we ended up at a maintenance room. Vacuums, duster sticks, etc. He pushed a vacuum towards me to grab and thankfully led me back out - or I would still be lost in there! I was to join in the chorus of vacuums running. He pointed to a big area of floor. I could handle that.

Carefully I suctioned up every little piece of lint,(surprisingly it was already very well kept). But in my serious cleaning quest, I became aware of another vacuum girl. She was unstoppable as she rounded the corner and kept on rolling, right over the carpet I had just finished. I was confused. Finally I said, "I think we're vacuuming the same areas." I was surprised when she mumbled something inaudible and kept vacuuming. She made no eye contact. No "oh, sorry." With her head down, she just continued to vacuum as if on auto pilot. I actually had to stand back to study her vacuum compared to mine. Did mine only picked up certain kinds of dirt? Was hers a specialized DI vacuum? No. The same vacuum. I was puzzled.

So, I wrapped up my cord and rolled the vacuum back to the manager, explaining the situation. He said, "Don't mind her, she does whatever she wants." I wasn't about to ask questions as I followed him back to the cleaning room again and we traded the vacuum in for a big handled duster on a stick. As we were exiting the double doors, I was surprised to see"vacuum girl", entering. Again, no eye contact was made on her part. No speaking. Just autopilot. I didn't know what to think.
I was to dust off the glass rounders, starting from a certain area in the mens department. I could handle that.

Minding my own "no dust" business, I couldn't help but notice "vacuum girl" coming back out those doors. She seemed to flaunt proudly as she walked by with her own . . . big handled duster on a stick! My reaction? I'm embarrassed to confess. I'm afraid my rusty attitude showed as I felt my nose turn up and my eyes look away. That's when it hit me. I was treating her like I had been treated. It didn't feel right. So I kept my eye on her and at least made sure we didn't over lap. I made my section shine.

Finishing that job, I was escorted back to the womans department. The department manager introduced me to Cindy - "vacuum girl"! She appeared from behind a stack of clothes in the dressing room. I hardly think she saw me. "If there are any questions, Cindy will know the answers", he said. Up until now, I didn't think she even had a voice. I wasn't sure about the situation at all. I was still trying to figure her out. But I was pleasantly surprised when she spoke clearly and helpfully. I had questions from time to time, but at least she acknowledged me. We worked hard. The time went by fast. We organized clothes off of many racks brought out from the back by Cindy. Soon it was 12:00. I was finished with my shift.

It's funny when I first met her she was so unfriendly. But after the vacuum and long handled dusting stick episodes, she didn't seem so bad. Now that I was leaving I didn't feel like just sneaking away. Something in me made me want to thank her and let her know it was good working with her. So I called her attention to the time and made sure she knew I was leaving. In a way, I felt like I would miss her. She looked up and actually looked at me back. I think her eyes sparkled a little. She also was surprised the time had flown by. And she thanked me, too.
I felt better. I still wasn't proud of my reaction to her coldness that morning. but I did learn a valuable lesson.

I don't want to be a "vacuum girl".

Blessings . . .

Good week-ends consist of:

Fulfilling a DI assignment on Friday. . . even though Randy and I, both have interesting stories to tell! (Stay tuned:)

Enjoying the Relief Society broadcast Saturday evening, knowing all the girls I love (mothers and daughters, wherever they live) were each listening to the same broadcast at the same time.

Enjoying good kids who took a chance to go see Train, because of a fundraiser Randy was involved in Saturday night. They were good sports. (At least it wasn't Hall and Oats, like last year!) It's always nice to have them around.

Enjoying our Primary Sacrament program today.

Envisioning Jeff on the stand, strategically placed between "lively" boys during their Primary program, as he represented his and Vita's "class" (one last 11 year old boy). Those kids love Jeff and Vita!

Envisioning Rachael's preparation and performance as their ward's Primary chorister, in their wards program. She did great!

Envisioning Carianne observing their ward's program today, knowing that next week she will step into the Primary 1st Counselor position, in a new Presidency.

Envisioning Rusty on the stand, learning that he was able to extend that call to Carianne one morning this past week.

Learning of Gregg's new calling as assistant ward clerk.

Picturing Brenden, Julianne, and Emmie getting to know a family ward again, giving Emmie a chance to experience a "real" nursery. Knowing they served so well in the singles ward.

Learning of Grandma and Grandpa Buehner's great Primary program today.

Having Carianne, potty trained Kate, Jeff, Vita, Grandma, and Grandpa Buehner over for Sunday dinner.

All gathering around the web cam (Grandma Buehner, risking her bad knees to come down stairs) to oooooo and aawwwww over Emmie, Julianne, and Brenden.

Randy calling to talk to Grandma Clawson, and learning from Jean that he'd have to wait, since she was saying her prayers.

"Called to serve Him . . ."

Blessings

Charity

Last Friday, my Mom and I were on our way to run errands. As we pulled out of the driveway and down the street, I noticed a couple of envelopes in her hand.
I said, "Do we need to stop by the post office first? It looks like you've got mail."
She said, "Oh, no. these are my bragging notes. I want to read them to you."

First, she told me about a friend of hers in the ward, named Naomi. Another of her friends, Molly, had just passed away in the last couple of weeks. Naomi and Molly used to sit together in Sunday School and Relief Society. She said it was really sweet, because right after church, the priesthood would always carry in the two soft chairs from the foyer and place them right in the front row, so Naomi and Molly could see and hear the lesson in comfort.

Now Molly was gone. Naomi would be by herself. It would be hard. As church began that day, Mom looked around, only to catch Naomi's eye. She gestured a wave of "Hello, How are you?" towards Molly. The greeting was reciprocated. After church, Dad went one way and so Mom continued on to Gospel Doctrine to save him a spot. She entered the room, noticing people around Naomi, encouraging her to come and sit by them. Naomi kindly declined. (Being 85, it's hard to get up and down, once you're in your spot.) Mom also headed Naomi's way and quietly sat down next to her.

During the week, the mail came. This was the first note in Mom's hand. It was from Naomi's daughter from a different ward, who had apparently learned of Mom's kindness through Naomi. She said Mom probably had no idea how much her small gesture of just sitting by Naomi meant to her that Sunday. She was so grateful for Mom's attentiveness. It made Mom feel good. "Isn't that sweet?" she said.

Mom opened the next note. It was from Naomi. Her heartfelt gratitude was written, too, for her friendship and love. It made Mom feel really good.

She talked on about another friend, who she decided to call to offer a ride to Molly's funeral. Instead of Mom picking her up, she was delighted to pick up Mom. It felt good.

During the errand drive, I learned how Mom really missed the neighbors across the bike path from them. Not because they moved, but because they planted greenery to block the activity of the active path. Mom used to be able to see them and wave. They had been over for ice cream several times and had lent Dad a hand. She was planning on driving over to extend an invite to hear Jon's group sing.

We pulled in and passed her good neighbors home across the road. The mother had been converted to the church about a year ago, due to friendships and examples - Mom being a part of that. She said, "and since I'm on a roll, I need to invite their family over."

We laughed.

I have thought of her friends and ward support so much. She is what sisterhood is all about. There are so many people in her life that she is connected to. She connects out of love. These are the people that give her strength. She carries on unselfishly and with gratitude. Her own Mother was a wonderful example of that. I'm thankful for Mom's example of charity. It truly "never faileth". No matter what your age.

Another Motto

This really inspires me:

I have come to the frightening conclusion that I am the decisive element.
It is my personal approach that creates the climate.
It is my daily mood that makes the weather.
I possess tremendous power to make life miserable or joyous.
I can be a tool of torture or an instrument of inspiration.
I can humiliate or humor, hurt or heal.

In all situations it is my response that decides whether a crisis is escalated,
and a person is humanized or dehumanized.

If we treat people as they are, we make them worse.
If we treat people as they ought to be,
we help them become what they are capable of becoming.

Goethe 1749 - 1832

August 17 1979

This week was our 31st anniversary. I made the annual Italian Creme cake for Sunday dinner - the same flavor as our reception cake. I make it once a year for our anniversary and it STILL brings back memories.

The night before the 17th, I knelt down to say my prayers and found myself drifting off back in time trying harder than usual to imagine myself as that young bride, saying her prayers the night before our wedding. Tomorrow would be the day! I tried to imagine what I must have been feeling, there on my knees. Gratitude. The Temple. My new husband. Our courtship. Our new life together. My family. All the loved ones gathered for our day. The fun plans for our reception . . .I'm sure that prayer was really sweet. It made me want to try harder and more often to remember those feelings. I even thought of my bed and my room!

Throughout the years a special memory has replayed in my mind many times. Randy and I were newly engaged - So excited, and yet taking this big leap of faith together. We were driving west on the "60" in Randy's little blue Chevy Astra with the bucket seats. Our smiles were as big as the metal grill across the front fender. We had just left Gilbert and were headed for the Institute or something. A strong impression came over me (right on that freeway!) that spoke to my heart. It said, "You are going to make it!" It was such a feeling of peace and joy that I will not and can not forget it. I have played it back in my head thousands of times. It's on instant replay and I have even felt it when I've least expected it. That's why I remember just where we were when it came.

So, it's been a blessing - that recording. It has been such a comfort to me. I'm so thankful for the little voice I heard that day that has validated my" marriage ticket" all these years.

Life has brought us many blessings. Four beautiful children who have each taken that same leap of faith with a loving and eternal spouse. Sweet, young love. If I had a wish for them, it would be to try harder than usual to recall that sweet courtship and the feelings that they had then. The ones that spoke to their hearts and helped them know that "we are going to make it" together. Being specific with those memories will help validate their "marriage ticket" and will last them for eternity.

The List

Father's Day was yesterday. We are still feeling the ripples from the waves of meaningful Fathers in our lives. You know how sometimes you wish there were more days in the week-end? Well that's pretty much how I feel about special days that pay honor to our loved ones. They are not long enough. Sometimes we need a refresher more than just once a year.

When I was 18, my brother Jeff and I got our Patriarchal Blessings. It has been a true blessing in my life. I don't read it overly a lot, but I know exactly where it is. My connection with it is almost daily though, as I rehearse in my mind those memorized words of personal council that sometimes catch me off guard. It was especially meaningful in my younger days, when I first received it. This was my own blessing. I would read it over and over. That's when the words began imprinting in my mind and heart.

To this day, I can recite a long paragraph that means a lot to me. It's the one where it talks about being worthy and recognizing my future companion. It begins with "He will . . .and he will . . . and he will . . ." When I think about it, if lists were part of blessings, mine would have been written in list form. When I met Randy, I knew the list. I also knew what to watch for. The more I knew Randy, the more easily I could insert "Randy will . . .and Randy will . . . and Randy will . . . " Heavenly Father knew Randy. He also knew me. He knew I needed a list. I was warned to be extremely careful in choosing. I was. Randy came along and was everything on the list.

Some of the list pertained to he and I, but a lot of the list was all about our future children. So when it came to the "he will" parts, it was easy to picture Randy as a Dad, even though that seemed so far in our future. I never worried about it and I never will. I am grateful for faith, spiritual promptings, families, a knowing Heavenly Father, . . . and Randy, the good Dad that I recognized from "the list"even before we had children.

Happy Fathers Day, Dad!

Khaki's are good for working,
Or sitting in your chair,
Disguising Bondo's lunch,
And giving feral cats a scare.

You can wear them through all seasons,
Especially up at Macks.
(I hear they keep you safer,
In case of bear attacks!)

They also hide the spill marks
From all the cement mixin',
You don't even need an apron
For delicious ice cream fixin'.

From dawn until the sun sets
In and out and here and there,
Khaki's make life great!
Thought you could use another pair.

I LOVE YOU, DAD!

Senior Assembly

At the end of my Senior year at Arcadia high school (class of 1971), I was walking my usual route (trying not to trip, because . . . oh yes, I had tripped before!) through the campus one morning. Out of the blue, a friend called to me to tell me about the early morning assembly that had just ended. I don't even recall knowing about an assembly. Even if I did know about it, it would have been something I purposely would have avoided, if it wasn't required.

Growing up with the last name "Buehner" I had learned quickly who my friends really were. Some of my high school experiences are not very fond because of this. I could live without this assembly.

I chose my friends carefully. They were nice, good, slap-happy funny, fellow seminarians, quirky, bad drivers, off campus lunch goers, and streaky Quick tan wearers (who, like me could never get an even tan at our ankles because the sock line from our lives of wearing anklets left that part of our legs always shades whiter than the upper part). I still think of them today and wish we could walk aimlessly around and around the block at night, wearing our Dr. Pepper lip gloss. I was happy, just not into the Student Body thing (most of them were cliquish and I had few friends there).

So, that morning when my friend came running up, she informed me that it was a Senior assembly that I had missed - to recognize students with the most votes for "Most Likely to Succeed, Miss Congeniality, Mr. Macho. . ." (who knows what else!) . I thought, "So? And your point is?" I came back to life when she told me that I had been nominated. Yes, Me. . . "Most Timid". It felt like I was in a tunnel, where her voice echoed so loudly that I had to cover my ears. Exactly the reason I was content to miss the assembly! I was horrified. How demeaning. How embarrassing. What did I ever do to deserve THIS? I was crushed. It ruined my day.

I must have told my Mom about it when I got home, because when my Dad got home, I found myself in his office, for a little counseling session. He gently reminded me that I was from a class of 400 kids. "That is a lot of kids", he said. "And for you to be noticed, even as "Most Timid" was kind of a good tribute. You were noticed! Imagine the kids who were not noticed? That leaves a lot of unrecognized kids." Hmmm. I could feel my despair m e l t away. Maybe it wasn't so bad. . .I was unable to speak. I wonder if he could see in my eyes how he had completely changed my life?

Because of my Dad, I saw a broader picture. I will always be so grateful for his counsel. I'll always have a story to tell about "Most Timid". I still shutter when I think about it, but just before I flip out . . . I Smile really big!

Happy Father's Day! I Love you, Dad!

Flat Tire

One summer, quite a few years ago, I found myself driving alone with all of the kids. It wasn't that big of a deal, except that we were in Idaho. We had just dropped Randy off at the airport to return home for work. We attended a cousin's wedding reception and then we were off on a venture to the cabin. It was daylight. Things were under control. I could do this.

As we rolled along the unfamiliar access road to enter the highway, however, I knew I had a small problem. The road was smooth, but it felt like we were hitting only pot holes. I found a side street and quickly pulled off. Leaving all my good kids in the car, I got out and sure enough, the back tire was flat. Me - alone - only the kids - strange place in Idaho - a little scary.

As I stood there, I must have looked helpless to the couple who just happened to come jogging by. I was relieved to see them. Thank goodness they were willing to help remedy our situation. As I retrieved the tire changing gear from the back, the man promptly got on his back, while the woman got down to help him. They were a team. I pretty much stood back and made smaller than small talk. I was so grateful to them. As time went on, however, it became apparent that the man was having a hard time. I became more nervous as the sky began to get gray. He was a hard worker, but struggled. His hands shook as he unscrewed each bolt. He huffed and puffed and kept wiping away sweat from his face. At one point, as I came around to check on the kids, I heard the woman's voice behind me. She whispered, "You don't know how much this means to him." She explained that he was recovering from some limitations and though this was hard for him, he really needed the experience to prove himself. She was the grateful one - they both were. I also couldn't help but notice his ragged clothing. You could tell he didn't have much. It was dark when he finished. He had managed to change my tire in a completely charitable manner. He never hesitated. And as I stood there, face to face, thanking the couple, before we parted, I was pleased to be able to pay him more than I would have any other.

We loaded up again and were off - up the mountain, in the dark, to the cabin. I could have felt sorry for myself in any other situation. Flat tires are no fun. But I had been taught an overwhelming lesson that day. My misfortune was only this little jogging man's gain. Our flat tire experience met his needs. I think we would have been safe either way. But I also think that our flat tire was minor, compared to what he benefited.

Even though it was dark, things were still under control. I could not have done it alone. I'm sure were all being watched over that day.

Announcement

Baby Rensink
Baby Boy Rensink
Baby Boy, Peter Rensink - due in October!

. . .snakes and snails and puppy dog tails . . .

So happy for Julianne and Brenden . . . and for me!

Palmyra Temple dedication

The dedication of the Gila Valley Temple last Sunday reminds me of an experience I had with Gregg when the Palmyra Temple was dedicated.

It was on a school day morning and we had to be there by 6:00 AM. (Randy was on the orchestra tour with Carianne and Jeff. Julianne must have been at NAU.) Anyway, we had to get up early to be at the church by 6. I didn't know what to expect from Gregg. 5:00 was a little early for a middle schooler. But he got up willingly and quickly dressed in his Sunday attire. We gathered our handkerchiefs and special recommends and were off. There was a small line at the door, but it was peaceful and quiet - a great start to any day. We were able to sneak into the chapel and find a seat right against the aisle. We listened to the beautiful music and were safe there. I was proud of him for his obedience and faith. He seemed to know how special this experience was going to be. That's what I remember the most - that it was so peaceful and that I was with Gregg.

The dedication took place and ended all too soon. It took a minute to adjust to reality when it was over. I suddenly remembered it was a school day and I knew he would be a little worried if we didn't hurry along. So, the minute the lights went on, I looked at the clock - it was 7:30. Being on the aisle, we were able to slide out and head to the car. Burger King was on the way, so we swung in the drive through for breakfast. (I knew that would take his mind off being late for school.) We drove home, he changed his clothes and we were on our way back to school. I watched him as he walked the long hallway and into the office door. The day was almost normal.

I picked him up at the same spot at 2:30. He jumped in the car and the first thing he said was, "Mom, they put me in ISS" (In School Suspension). I was surprised, but he went on to remind me that it was a test day. I recalled then, a note from the school, encouraging parents to make sure their children did not miss school on "these" certain days. "Oh, dear", I thought.
Gregg kept talking, "But I wasn't the only one they put in ISS". He went on to name a hand full of his other friends from Primary and scouts that were also in the room when he got there. He said, "Every time the door opened, it was another "friend", and finally the secretary was so mad that when there were no more chairs, she would say," "If there aren't any chairs, then just sit on the floor!" "

I knew every child he named. I also knew all of their parents. These were members of our Stake, who with priorities like mine, had chosen to miss the beginning of a school test day for something so much more important. I was so thankful to have their examples, and to know that we were raising our children alike, together.

I had to laugh out loud when I thought of the poor little secretary, going back and forth with child after child in frustration as she filled the room (to standing only) with "disobedient" kids. She had no idea that these were the cream of the crop. It tickled me as I ask, "Gregg, doesn't it feel so good to be "so bad" "?

It also makes me humble to think of that little punishment room, usually filled with darkness. But on that day, it became filled with brightness and purity, because of what those children had just witnessed. I imagined their sweet faces, knowing they had done no wrong, yet with support from each other, they could feel safe. They were clean and good.

Can you have a "temple" in an ISS room? I think so. I'm pretty sure heaven surrounded them there that day.

A Tender Mercy

When I was 20 years old, my brother, Jeff , was tragically taken from us in a car accident, while serving a mission for our church in Pennsylvania. There were 4 Elders in the car and 3 of their lives were taken. It was an experience that I do not wish on anyone, however, the Spirit of peace and comfort was so strong, during that trying time that I cannot deny he is safely with Heavenly Father. I also know that I will see him again someday.

My youngest brother, Jim was only 8. I remember a poster we had made of Jeff's mission, hanging in the hall. It showed pictures of where he was living, pictures of him in his suit, smiling, with his missionary name badge, etc. When the accident happened, there mysteriously appeared on the poster, in little 8 year old handwriting, "I miss Jeff." Those words became more and more meaningful as I watched Jim try to come to terms with this experience. As the years passed along, I realized that, even though I never saw him struggle or cry (that I can remember), he had some deep, sweet feelings. He felt "short changed" because he knew Jeff the least amount of time, compared to Jon ( 14 years old) and I. It must have been so hard for him.

We moved from our home on Cheery Lynn Road to Gilbert a few years later. Jim attended middle school and high school there. He also served a mission to Chicago and married Richelle. He is now the father of 3. Once a little boy. . . now a good man. Continuing to walk uprightly, and being interested in everyone, he has made many friends.

One afternoon in the hallway at church, a new member in his ward overheard his name. Out of the blue, the member called to him, " Brother Buehner? Do you know a Jeff Buehner?" Jim was surprised, but curious - of course he knew Jeff Buehner. The man continued to tell him that he was a missionary in Pennsylvania, also, and although he never had a chance to meet Jeff, he learned quickly about him and of the tragic accident.

It had just happened a day or two before, and when he arrived at the mission home, the feeling inside was heavy. He described that as he walked by the mission Presidents office, an Elder was sitting inside, with his head in his hands. He later learned it was the one Elder, the driver, that had survived, and was obviously dealing with it very hard. The member also learned that before the accident, the hearts of the people in the area were guarded. They were convinced that they didn't need the church. They had their own. Their doors were either shut quickly upon seeing the missionaries, or not opened at all. But little by little, the Elders were making an impression, being out and about in the community. People began recognizing them. Some had visited with them and others had not. Either way, when the accident happened, it hit home to everyone. If they had met them, they knew them. If they had never met them, they had seen them and knew of them. It touched everyone, and grieving was felt by many. Miraculously, though, their hearts began to soften. They put down their barriers. It united them in sadness and as a result, they began to listen and know how true the church really is.

Of anyone who deserved to hear this experience from a new friend that day, it was Jim, The youngest brother of Jeff, who longed to know him better. It gives me strength to know that this meeting was not a happenstance. The member was placed there for Jim. We might not have ever learned of this story, except through Jim. He needed it. And it was sweet to hear it from him.

I am so grateful to know that there really is a Heavenly Father who knows our needs. Whenever I think of a "tender mercy", I always think of Jim's experience.

You're Afraid of What?

I was writing the date on an 8 year old piano students assignment book this week. All of a sudden he said, "TEN MORE DAYS!" I said, "until your birthday?" Sure enough, how did I guess? He then carried on about the party plans. How his Mom was having a Reptile-specialist come, bringing all kinds of creepy crawly things to show the kids. Of course, I had to let him know how much I hated . . .you know whats . . . He told me about his love for everything slimy, slithery, and stuck to the "no pest" strips that his parents had laying all around his house and in the garage. (I think I am glad I don't live in his neighborhood.. . either that or he has a really good imagination!)
I was getting the creeps when all of sudden he took cover like a baseball bat was coming at him right between the eyes. His legs shot up, his head ducked down, his hands covered his face. In a split second he was in a fetal position on the bench, balancing himself on his hind end.
I had seen the same thing he saw. Guess what? . . . A F L Y!
I couldn't believe my eyes. The kid was afraid of FLIES! I slapped my hand down on my leg in laughter. Trying to compose myself, I continued to wipe away uncontrollable tears. . . a FLY?
He spend the rest of the lesson being "dive bombed", only to take cover again and again, which only made my sides hurt. I would have swatted it if we ever saw it land. . .
. . .or maybe not.

Super-Heroes

I was attending a class some time ago. The teacher directed the question to each of us to be answered one by one. I listened as people remembered the Teen-age Mutant Ninja Turtles, Superman, Spiderman, etc. When it got to be my turn, my mind had already taken a "left". I was paying attention, but I didn't go the TV/movie route. Instead, perfect thoughts rushed to my mind and I found myself saying, " I have been so impressed by the good young men that our daughters have chosen to marry. These are my Super Heroes."
As time has gone on, 2 more Super Heroes have been added to our family, in the form of beautiful young girls. I feel so blessed that our children have found partners that can see eternity through them and with them. You just can't get more Super than that!

...Beautiful, too...

blog class

Today I am officially starting to learn about blogging. This is my teacher who has been blogging and writing for years. She was kind and patient enough to teach a little class for newbies like me, who only wanted to learn how to add pictures to their blogs. Her name is Margaret Turley . She is going to get points for encouraging someone like me to learn just a little more.

Life Lesson

In my life, I have spent a lot of fun time piano accompanying. Playing and visiting new venues, with lots of fun people was a blast After playing for the Institute choir in my college days (that's where I met Randy) I began to wonder where I fit in as an accompanist, because clearly. the attention was directed at the singers. Sometimes I would feel lonely, patiently waiting on the piano bench, anticipating my own directions, or secretly wishing my part was worthy of the directors attention.

Years passed by and as a young married girl, I found myself accompanying for another fun womens' group. Again, those same feelings of wanting to be at least noticed, popped up. . . . ("Hello...over here...") But I was always ready to play when needed, and like a dog waiting for a bone, playing was the reward! Then one night, the director paused. She began speaking about how important it was to have a good accompanist, because if they are "rusty" or unprepared, it takes time away from the group. The director ends up attending to the pianists flaws. Kind of like a "squeaky wheel". The whole experience hinges on the quality of the accompanist. She was referring to me, and crediting me for being that good. She also said that you can tell a good accompanist when not a mere word is directed at them for correction. I was pleasantly surprised. After all those times of wondering where I stood, thanks to her, I finally knew. I must say that I had to eat "humble pie", but I will forever be grateful for what I learned that night. It applies so perfectly to LIFE. So, you don't always have to be noticed to be good. Imagine that!

This week, my Mom ended up in the hospital for a couple of days, unexpectedly. Thankfully she is home again, now. But when someone you love so much goes through a scare, you begin to think of things like, "I wonder if I have told her enough how much I love her?". She hasn't required a lot of attention. She is easy to please. She is an angel. She always has a smile. She is there in a pinch. She would do anything for me. She loves me. She is so worthy of the highest degree of praise. And then I think of my piano days . . .

She is not a squeaky wheel. She rolls quietly and smoothly along with goodness. She KNOWS her "part". She is ready to perform. And she does it flawlessly. No complaints or adjustments. She's perfect. She watches on the sidelines for her opportunity to serve.

No, you don't always have to be noticed to be good. Mom is a shining example of that. but in case she is sitting on the bench wondering where she fits in . . . "I Love You dearly, Mom!"

Grand imprints

Have you ever laid on a memory foam mattress? You know how when you get up, there is still an imprint of your body still molded in the foam that doesn't go away for a long time? That's how I feel today.
I know how it feels when little Emmie comes to visit and we soak in every minute we can with her, (since we don't see her but every few months) and then we have to let her go back home. There is an imprint of her little self that lingers in our hearts that doesn't go away for a long time. Kind of like a lump in your throat.
But, this weekend, we got to watch Kate - overnight. . . By ourselves! We soaked in every minute. She was so good. And do you know what? Even though Kate lives just 15 minutes away, and we could see her everyday if we wanted, the imprint that she left in our hearts when she had to go home is just as deep as if we were letting Emmie go to her home 15 hours away.
If you are reading this, and you are our children, just know that we really do know that those sweet little girls belong to you! We also know that the reason they are so good is because of you.
I just learned today, though. that those little imprints are the same - no matter where you live.

What are you doing for Easter?

I almost cried at the start of conference on Saturday. Hearing the music and seeing the temple made me realize how completely thirsty I was for the abundance of knowledge I was about to receive. Isn't that funny? I didn't even know how in love I am with conference. . . To tears!

I had a piano Mom ask me what our plans were for Easter. Was I doing a family dinner? It caught me off-guard. No, our family dinner is held on the Fast Sundays. We join together with my brothers and their families ("the cousins") routinely on those Sundays. I pictured myself on this Easter Sunday, and I knew that what I would be doing, compared to what she would be doing would be totally different. I would be soaking in General conference for 2 days. At our house or at my parents home in Gilbert. An Easter feast? Yes! I think this week when I see her, I won't be caught as far off guard. I might be ready to tell her about my Easter.

He Lives!

A Hairy Day

Everyday for a week we have had people ask us if we found Hairy. They call us, they ring our doorbell . . .I even had a mother call today that has lessons tomorrow. I thought she was going to reschedule lessons, but she just wanted to know if we found Hairy, that's all, "OK, see you tomorrow". We did find Hairy. A man caught her going "due west" last Wed. morning, about 15 minutes after she disappeared. He didn't see the posters until that evening, so Hairy spent the day with him.
If Hairy only knew how we spent our day. . . It's one I don't want to forget.
One Grandma. Two darling grand daughters. Joyously babysitting for the morning while their moms (our good daughters) went shopping. Beautiful day. Haphazard decision to take Hairy with us for a walk. . . Emmie had Hairy by the leash. We enjoyed every little footstep since it takes time to get up and down when you're so close to every pine cone. We studied everything. As we got to the end of our street, we made a turn to go slowly back home. The girls were good, Hairy was not. As we turned around, Hairy pulled in the opposite direction. With Emmie's grip, she held on as tight as her 21 months could hold. It was enough to give Hairy leverage to slip backwards, right out of her collar. She ran frantically northbound like an escaped criminal. I grabbed both of the little girls hands, knowing they were a priority and I did NOT have a third hand for any dog that was on the run - besides, I knew we could catch up to her in the car. She never got very far, what with every tree and bush filled with gross stuff to eat. I picked up Kate and Emmie ran with me. I strapped Emmie into the car seat, since I knew she probably could make more of a mess than Kate (ha). We were off. Kate had free rein of the whole back of the van. We went at a snails pace. Hardly moving at all. Hairy had to be under someones bushes. I could just see her in my imagination, sniffing and trotting on and stopping to sniff again. No Hairy. We just covered our 2 streets, since I had never known Hairy to go out of our neighborhood, besides, her feet are so small, she gets "bushed" easily. I couldn't believe she wasn't somewhere close. I knew we'd find her. After circling the streets, I headed back to the house. Our next plan would be to strap the little girls into the double stroller (thankfully loaned to us be our good neighbors). I parked the car and turned to find Kate standing next to Emmie sharing her new found treasure, an opened package of juicy fruit gum. She had half a stick in her mouth and was quickly sharing the rest of the pieces with Emmie. I had to laugh out loud while I hurried to empty Kate and Emmie's mouths, knowing they knew they would be busted. I left Kate in the car, since her favorite game is for people to chase her, and I knew she would probably want to play it. I lifted Emmie out and sat her in the stroller. (Ah, one in!) Since my distraction of putting Emmie in, Kate had a new plan. She had now made her way to the driver's seat, where I had left the gum in the door handle. As I looked up to grab her, she was sitting there, madly unwrapping sticks of gum as fast as her little 16 month old hands could manage. The look on her face said it all! She knew she had hit the jackpot. (Glee!) So I rolled Emmie around the front of the car and left her outside the driver's door while I opened it and grabbed Kate. I was completely tickled at the site of her new found mischief. I grabbed her, taking out the half piece of gum in her mouth (some still in the wrapper) and some in her little hand. As I felt relief from the gum ordeal being over, and with both girls out of the car, I turned to put Kate in the stroller. . . No stroller. It was not at my feet where I had left it. I was panicked. But my peripheral vision led my eyes to see the back of it, rolling away from me, with the back of Emmie's little red haired head helplessly heading so slowly towards the street. With a quick 2 steps, holding Kate in one arm and grabbing Emmie's handle with the other, (my heart raced at the image I had just witnessed) I tucked Kate in and said a quick prayer of thanks. I didn't feel that we had narrowly escaped a disaster, I just felt a knowledge that we were being watched by Heavenly Father. My short prayer was for thankfulness of that knowledge. There is a reason I was not born with 3 arms. Hairy was not the priority that day, even though she was the reason for the experience. I am in love with 2 little grand daughters. And because of the worry, joy, and gratitude I felt that day, I know he loves us all.

new beginnings

March has been busy. Awesome family all here. Awesome family in the temple together for Jeff and Vita's wedding and reception. Grand daughters that were born to play. Dog lost. Dog found. Julianne and Emmie back to NE. Randy released from Bishopric. (All the spaces in this post so far are packed full of memories that bring a smile across my face from ear to ear.) New beginnings?. . . A perfect season!

THANK- YOU!

Yep, today we let Julianne and Emmie go back to Brenden. He misses them, but always unselfishly shares them with us, helping us sense what heaven can be like. But as hard as it is to let her go, it is sweet to realize that he is so anxious to have her back. It was so fun to have her here, though. We played and played and ran and ran and oooed and awwwed and ran some more. Pure delight! Definitely a light goes on when our children come back home. I am grateful for each of our children and their spouses, who one by one have come into our little fold, to love and support each other.  No words can express the joy in the heart of a mother when she sees her children drop everything to be around each other. Thank- you , dear children!

Sisters

Sisters . . . I never had my own, only awesome brothers (NO complaints!) But we had 2 girls back to back. I wanted to do cartwheels after each one, but it was hard, what with C sections, etc. Today, they are grown and have each blessed us with one delightful little grand daughter a piece. Be still my heart! They are 5 months apart. Oh, the joy. Today Grandpa took the day off to watch them while the 3 of us went shopping. He only changed 5 total diapers in 3 hours. He's a trooper. It was heaven to be with the girls. I think Heavenly Father knew they would be wonderful friends. I am blessed. . . and you should see these grand daughters!

What do you know?

I just spent 45 minutes recoloring (I love coloring) and refonting (love that, too)! It's been a fun way to spend my prepiano lesson time. What do you know . . . I just entered my 2nd post.

Guess what?

This is my very first post. I was inspired by a women's conference class I took yesterday. I learned that if I didn't start writing thoughts down, my life might be unvalidated someday. I do have a life, and it is full. . .Now, if I can just figure out how to use all this fun technology!