2013

Yesterday was the eve of New Year's eve.  The bishop talked to our combined group and because it hit the spot - what with New Year's resolutions on my mind, I am writing down the basic message.

 Since he was speaking to 2 singles wards, he related that there are not many scriptures that talk about Jesus' life when He was their age.

 But we turned to Luke 2 :52. 
 And Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in favour with God and man.

For such a small scripture, it took on new meaning.  Wisdom (Intelligence)
                                                                           Stature (Physically)
                                                                            Favor with God (Spiritually)
                                                                            Favor with Man (Socially)

Then he held up a sketch of an equal sided square, with one of these characteristics  along each side.
He encouraged us to remember the equality. (You don't want a trapezoid or a triangle!)  Each side makes for "well rounded".  In between each category, he had assigned kids to come up and explain what they had done, or what they were anticipating doing for the new year.  It was a meaningful talk for them (and me!) especially the "social"  part.  (It's hard being college age.)

He reinforced that if we strive to better our lives in each of these categories, no matter what, our happiness will increase.  

The Day That the Lights Went Out in Chandler

The email I was writing in mid sentence poofed away at noon yesterday.
The lights didn't even flicker - just a "click" and out.  Dark.
The Christmas music that brought life from upstairs died..
Silence and dark; not a good combination.

So, this is what I learned when I helplessly stepped outside the front door in wonder:

That I was so thankful for fresh air. . . and the brightness of the sun.
I learned about myself when I realized thet my first instinct was to rap on my neighbor's door.  (I never rap on her door unless I need something; but today I needed a friend.)
I learned her name was Phyllis (not Doris . . . . ooops!)
That she was born on Christmas day in 1956.
That her handicapped son is 6'4".
That other neighbors needed a friend too, as they peeked around their corners one by one  to make polite conversation about "no power".
The neighbor next to Phyllis is Korean. She stood out with us for a minute, even though she spoke in broken English.
That my eastern Indian neighbor on the west goes to LA Fitness.  (She declied my invitation to go walking.)
That more people on the street were actually home.  I really thought I was the only one home in the neighborhood during the day.
A new neighbor, Adam, lives across the street with his 2 cute little girls (that are with him every other week end). They were the unfamiliar girls that walked Hairy the day before.  (Now I know who they belong to, and he knows who owns the hairy dog they brought home to show him.)
That the outage was a good excuse for some much needed neighborhood connecting.

 I learned that I feel safer now.


   

Disneyland 2012

This is proof that our recent trip to Disneyland is the happiest place on earth.  We watched the weather before we left for days, in hopes of sun.    When we expressed our wimpy concern for the rainy weather predicted, it was surprising how many people would rather go in the rain .   Less crowds.  So . . . we donned our ponchos, our weathered shoes, extra socks, umbrellas enough to go around,  and ran (splashed) like  crazy kids.   Splash Mountain will never be the same!

(everyone looked the same from the back!)

Some people have a drinking problem.  I have always had a "blinking" problem.

It was nice to know I was in good company:

Did you know that cartoons have a blinking problem?

We did have an awesome time!  The weather was beautiful, just wet.   We'd do it again tomorrow!

ABC Christmas Advent

1. A --Angels (Luke 2:1-9)
2. B --Bethlehem (Luke 2:10-15)
3. C --Christ (2 Nephi 25:23, 26)
4. D --Deeds (1 John 3:18, 23-34)
5. E --Everlasting (John 3:16-17)
6. F --Family (Luke 2:16-17)
7. G-- Gold (Matthew 2:1-11)
8. H --Herod (Matthew 2:12-16)
9. I --Israel (Matthew 2:19-21)
10. J --Joseph (Matthew 1:19-24)
11. K --King (D&C 128:23)
12. L --Lord (D&C 19:1; Isaiah 26:4)
13. M --Mary (Luke 1:27-38; 46-48)
14. N --Nazareth (Matthew 2:22-23)
15. O --Obedient (John 8:29; Hebrews 5:8-9)
16. P --Peace (Luke 2:14; Isaiah 9:6)
17. Q --Quickly (D&C 49-28)
18. R --Redeemer (Job 19:25; Mormon 9:11-13)
19. S --Steadfastness (2 Nephi 26:8; 31:20)
20. T --Teach (Matthew 28:18-20)
21. U --Unshaken faith (2 Nephi 31:19)
22. V --Voice (Alma 5:38; Helaman 12:23)
23. W --Willing (Mosiah 26: 17-18)
24. Y --Young (D&C 43:20)
25. Z --Zion (1 Nephi 13:37)

an article

I didn't write this, but I sure loved reading it:

Beauty in Broken Things

Posted by Kellie | November 28, 2012 | 8 Comments

To look at her fingers, you have to wonder what has happened to her – a car accident? Genetic fault lines? Torture? All the joints are loud, rude pebbles jostling and pushing the surface of too fragile speckled skin. Age has sucked the strength and padding from between her bones and cartilage, so when I hold her hand in mine I’m careful not to jostle or squeeze too much, even tenderly. All her fingers twist and angle severely towards her thumbs, which in turn furl towards her palm, even when she’s sleeping. If she was to stretch out her fingers, they would still cup inwards, as if she’s protecting something tiny in her palm. Her hands look as if they’ve been broken twice, at least, and put back roughly in a box, mending where they have fallen.
But if you place a crochet hook or knitting needle in her hands, the twists and jags of her fingers snap into focus, like a magic eye picture your eyes have suddenly worked out how to look at. You look, and the weird groove at the back of her hand is a welcome, custom nook for the crochet hook, worn by over seventy years of making tiny welcoming jackets, booties and bonnets for weary and contented and furious newborns. The sweep of her joints inwards is a living diagram of how she held the wool and blankets knitted and constantly given away during her life.

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There is beauty in broken things. Be they family heirlooms, families or hearts; bodies, spirits or dreams – broken doesn’t mean worthless or ugly. Sometimes the spiky and curled pieces tumble, shifting slowly under the constant wash of sun to moonshine until one day our eyes learn to look differently and we can see the stained glass window all those pieces created. A friend posted recently:

Today I am thankful for geology, and this morning specifically, for Opals. Opals are only beautiful because they are hopelessly fractured, and thus continually refracting light. The result is the beautiful rainbow we see, the flashes of colorful blues, red, greens and yellow oranges. Opal without the fractures… is boring old “potch” opal, rose or white colored, no flash. So any time you begin to think of yourself as broken, remember, it is only through the fractures that the light becomes iridescent….make sure you are reflecting the right Light, and you’ll be better than fine.

The pain of the breakage depends on so many variables: history, emotion, cost, price, value, memory, effort, wants and hopes. Sometimes the pieces stay broke, despite our best efforts to find beauty, or meaning, or purpose, or the ultimate glue to stick it all back together. Sometimes there are double rainbows and perfect puddles after rain; sometimes the cloud’s silver lining is nuclear fallout beginning to drift down. Just like the puddles, and opals, and our deepest truest selves – we are all hopelessly fractured, broken, and iridescent.

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Her hands have been broken by the service she has willingly given. Having given her life to Christ as a Catholic nun she has never had a child of her own, but every single soul born into our family makes its way to her lap, where those swollen, deflating hands lovingly cup soft, precious heads, a twisted finger traces the sign of the cross against the baby’s brow, and a prayer drifts down and is soothed into new, pearly skin by her wrecked and beautiful hands.

HaPpY BiRthDay, Gregg!

Whenever I walk or drive along Park Avenue from Seville to McClintock, I smile.   The side walk all the way is mostly straight, except for every 80 feet when it curves to the right, then 80 more straight feet and it curves left, and 80 more straight feet and . . . . I have fond memories along that route.

When Gregg was 4, the house was empty until the older kids got home from school.   Often we  would walk to the Windmills park for fun.  The little blue bike with the 10" wheels was perfect for him.  The ground was close, in case of a spill.  He'd ride perfectly all the way from our house to the first curve along Windmills. . .  That's when he either crashed or stopped to walk the curve.  Everytime.  Once past the curve, he was good for 80 feet, and then he would fall or walk the curve.   He rode great along the straight parts, but those curves were mean!  It was hard to watch him struggle at the curves because he loved going straight so much!   But he'd always get right back on.  I would coach him to look ahead for the curve so he'd be ready.  He never gave up and I remember many rides to the park, which means he finally got it.

Today is Gregg's birthday.  He's much older now and has accomplished many good things, in fact he'll graduate in December with a degree in graphic design.    It looks like the straight line practice was worth it! 

HapPy biRtHdAy, Gregg!
I love you, dearly!
Mom

Fa la la la la

In case the holidays get away from us, at least the TV in our bedroom will be decked. . .

. . . and we'll have a "signal"!

   

 

(snippety - snip!)

Since Randy and I were first married, I have cut his hair.  No, this is not something I'm proud of, but he has not been picky.  He could have looked like Clark Kent all these years, but no.   With the $ we'd save on hair cuts, he would sacrifice.  What a guy! 

I also remember his sister Diane (beauty school graduate) coming over and teaching me all I needed to know about guy's haircuts.  The kitchen floor in the house on Juniper Street was the setting - even before kids.

Lately my friend has been calling me to trim her bangs and to cut her husband's hair.  I don't mind about the bangs, I just pretend I know what I'm doing (snippety snip!)  But I'm a little fearful about becoming her husbands hairdresser, since the last time I cut it, he kind of looked like Randy and I wasn't sure he wanted to look like Randy.

Some day I intend to write  up a detailed description of my one fabulous hair cutting technique, in hopes that if my friend continues to ask me, I'll be able to teach her how to fish cut, so she can provide.  But it also occurs to me that Diane must have felt the same way, so many years ago.   That's when she sat me down and taught me how to fish cut.


 

"Be More Specific"

We are studying Preach My Gospel in Institute these days.  Last Wednesday, we had a discussion about the Holy Ghost, which caused me to recall Jim's story:

Last Christmas season, Dad went home teaching with Brother Hale.  It was evening and the sky was getting dark.   As Dad stepped out the front door of one of their families, there was a hidden step that caused him to stumble.  As a result, he fell, hitting his head on the steps on his way down, and landing in the grass.  He began to bleed a little and luckily they were able to dab it off.  Then Brother Hale helped Dad up and they shuffled to the car, to bring Dad home.

Jim noticed the car drive in, and stopped to greet them.  When Brother Hale hopped out, he informed Jim of the fall and they could both see that Dad was still a little shaken.  Jim had a list of things to do (considering the season, and all) but he helped Dad inside and they visited as he and Mom helped patch him up.  It turned out that Dad was shaken,  but not because of the fall ,as much as he couldn't hear.  His hearing aid had fallen out during the ordeal.  When Jim understood that, the things on his list were not the priority anymore.

He quickly drove back to the house.  No one was home.  So he began looking. . . for a tiny little hearing aid, the size of a small button, with a tiny little microscopic wire.  It had to be there.  It had to have fallen out in the yard because of the impact.  By this time it was dark as Jim searched everywhere.  After thinking it was hopeless, he offered a little prayer.  It went something like this:

"Dear Heavenly Father, help me find my Dad's hearing aid".  Remaining still, there came a prompting.
"Be more specific."
Again, Jim prayed, "Dear Heavenly Father.  Help me find my Dad's hearing aid so he can hear."  More looking and listening . . . then another prompting.
"Be more specific."
"Dear Heavenly Father.  Help me find my Dad's hearing aid so he can hear and have a good Christmas."

It was then, it seemed that time stopped,  and he got a glimpse of the fall from a heavenly rerun movie that played back in his head.  His eyes were led to the steps where he could replay, as if he were there, exactly which step he slid on and which direction he fell.  He said he could see an outline of Dad's image still pressed into the grass.  Putting all those details together, as he still continued to look, his eyes were led to the bush that grew alongside the steps.  And then, as if nothing else were in the way, all he could see was the tiny little wire from the hearing aid that without Heavenly help, might just look like any other of the many branches webbed inside the bush.

He had been given Heavenly direction.  A sweet validation of the reality of how close we are to Heaven.  The Holy Ghost was his messenger that night.  I think about the "Be more specific"  a lot.  As Jim was obedient in pleading with specifics, answers were given to him specifically.   It's a great lesson.  With faith and obedience first, the  Holy Ghost will help us see the answers more clearly.

 

Happy Birthday, Kate!

You Are Like a Pumpkin

This is a thought from my visiting teachers this month.  Pass it along:

 You are like a pumpkin.

God lifts you up, takes you in

And washes all the dirt off you.

He opens you up, Reaches deep into your heart

And scoops out all the yucky stuff . . .

Including the seeds of doubt, hate, greed, etc.

Then He carves you a new SMILING face

And puts HIS LIGHT inside you

To SHINE for all the world to see.

In Motion

My usual routine, when I get in the car, is not in the driver's manual.  I gloss over a few important "take off" steps until after the car is moving.  I'm frequently in a hurry so  I steer with one hand, and fasten the seat belt with the other, while the car is rolling down the street.   (I wouldn't know if my neighbors are friendly or not, and I don't wave, because I am preoccupied.)

Then I reach for my purse and feel around to check for my cell, gum, or list with one hand, while keeping an eye on the road and steering with the other.  I know.  It's not safe.

The other day, I had almost finished my little "in motion" routine, when I needed my sunglasses.  I turned onto Ray road, which is where I usually settle down and focus on the drive.  But the sun was blinding.  Again, I found myself fishing along the bottom of my purse for my shades with one hand.  I was relieved to find them and quickly placed them on my nose.

Within seconds, I knew something was wrong.  I thought they were smudged as I cocked my head from side to side, up, down, and around, trying to see more clearly  But for the most part they shielded me from the sun.  That was important.  I arrived at the bank and pulled in a parking space.   I lifted the glasses off my nose  to tuck them n my purse.  Looking at them in my hand will forever bring a smile to my face.  There they were - one lens in and one lens out! 

I thought of the people I passed, who must have wondered about me.  (The woman with the one eyed sunglasses, rotating her head all around with complete seriousness.)  It did teach me a lesson, though.  Just because everything is in your purse doesn't mean you should wait until you get in the car to organize every needful thing.  I will do better.

And I'll be more compassionate.

Fall Break

A couple of months ago, we started talking up a trip to Nebraska.   It was a pleasant surprise when each of our children and their families fell in line, one by one to meet there.  In Kearney.  At Julianne and Brenden's.  We see them every 3 or 4 months, so we were due (we're always due!) Plus, it was still 100 degrees here, and high 60's there; a no brainer!  Each one brought jackets and cameras and kids . . . and air mattresses.  We loved every minute of being together and Julianne and Brenden completely gave up their routine to make it a wonderful memory.

Filled with Peter's birthday party,

 

 "take 2" cupcakes ("take 1" 's were darker!))

                        

 

lots of princesses,

 relaxing,

 playing and sharing,

 

and more playing.

 

But the best part was being together!

 

THANK YOU, Julianne and Brenden!  

For the love we felt in your beautiful home.  And the beauty there that makes us grateful for God's creations!

We love you!

Not To Be Taken Lightly

When I was a young mother with little children,  housework, a few piano lessons, etc, I received a jury duty notice in the mailbox.  I had only heard about the importance of jury duty, but never been summoned.  My  immaturity showed as I immediately thought of all the reasons it would be an inconvenience to take the day away from my  "important" routine.  I did go down to the courthouse on that prescribed day, however - armed with a defense plan of why someone else would be a better choice.

I was successful at encouraging them to pass me by.
My Father in Law happened to be in town soon after and overheard my boasting.
Here is a man who was career military in the National Guard.  He spent his early fatherhood years away from his family, to defend our country in the bloodshed at Iwo Jima  And I will probably never stop meeting people who rave about C.B. Clawson being their scout master.  His life was all about serving his fellow men.

In a gentle voice and without criticism, he looked at me with a twinkle in his eyes and a forgiving smile. . .  I knew I was in for a heart to heart.
"You know, Jody, being ask to serve on a jury is a privilege.  It's one of the most important things you can do as a citizen of this free country to encourage liberty and justice."
It was true.  Up until then, I took that invitation to serve lightly, but he helped me understand that because of others' service, my life was rich.  And if others can serve for me, the least I can do is honor a small  request to serve on jury duty.

This year is another important year -  2012 Presidential Elections.  We have had some enlightening conversations here at home, as our children listen, with concern and interest, to the candidates and then to each other in a respectful way.   (Thank - you kids!)

Like Grandpa Clawson's lesson, voting is right up there with jury duty.  It seems like a small thing, but it is huge.  It is a privilege and it is the least we can do towards bettering our lives here.   Because of Grandpa Clawson, my heart will swell with thanksgiving as I take voting seriously.  My safeguard comes from knowing the facts and making a prayerful choice.  Not just for our generation, but for many others to come.
  

Happily Ever After

Once upon a time, Eugene Walter Buehner met Joanne Neeley.  They were both from Salt Lake, and like most young single "kids", after graduation from high school, became involved in work, military, more schooling,  missions, and lots of socializing.   The Sacra Dulce choir brought them together.  It was a group of kids in the area that loved to sing.  Mom had friends who knew Dad's friends and likewise.  It was perfect.

They hadn't known each other that long when Dad was called on a mission to New Zealand in 1948.  (He had spent some time before that in the military.)  But it was enough time for Mom to seriously consider what life might be like if she waited.  She continued in school at BYU and working.  She did her share of dating, but always had Walt Buehner in the back of her mind.  Her mother encouraged her to not make any relationship decisions until Walt got home.

Dad, in the meantime was having a life altering experience as he served and met so many wonderful Maori people.  The field was white and they were ready.  He served with people who have remained firm friends throughout his life.  

Towards the two year mark of his mission, his Dad was involved in surveying the countryside, there.  The church's population was growing and there was a need for chapels, etc.  Otto Buehner (his Dad) also had access to block making machinery.  David O. McKay made arrangements to have Otto organize building needs in New Zealand, teaching the Maori people how to work the equipment, so they could provide for themselves.  Dad just happened to be there and was a perfect fit, because he had run the machinery in the past and could help teach.  So the call was made to extend his mission.

The weeks turned into months and Dad kept busy.  He did happen upon a man who sold single diamonds.  He would shake them out of bags and show them off to interested investors.  When the timing was right, Dad was interested.  He bought a diamond, and took the man's advice to have it temporarily mounted to a tie pin, to be worn back to the states, to avoid paying customs.  An Elder, returning to Salt Lake wore the tie pin home and connected with Otto to pass it onto him.  Otto knew a jeweler from Germany, downtown (Burndt Jewelers) and carried off a special assignment for the diamond.

A phone call was made to Mom one afternoon.  It was Janice Buehner, Dad's sister.  She and Mom had become good friends while Dad was away.  She extended a dinner invitation to Mom for that night.  Her work was right up the street from the block plant, so if she walked to the plant after work, Otto would take her to their home for dinner.  She wasn't dressed in her best, but as usual, dinner was beautiful.  They talked and visited and after the meal,  a corsage box was handed to her across the table.  Mom looked around to see if anyone else was given a corsage.  She opened it to find a lei and a small ring box inside.  An engagement ring.

One month shy of Dad's being out for 3 years (1951), he was released to come home.  Mom was waiting.  A wedding was planned and they were married within months.  Sealed in the Salt Lake Temple by Matthew Cowley on September 13, 1951.



Dad tells the story of their reception day (the day after), when he again  made a quick stop to Burndt Jewelers.  He was picking up a cameo necklace he had made for Mom (from New Zealand).  He pulled up and double parked in front of the store.  He would be there for only a minute.  Stepping out from the jeweler, a policeman was standing with one foot on Dad's bumper, writing out a ticket.  Dad caught him and tried to explain.  The policeman informed him that not only was he illegally parked, but his tags were expired.  He ask Dad for his license and Dad realized he had run off without his wallet.  About that time, Dad began to plead,  trying to help the policeman understand that he had just been married yesterday and this was a quick stop before his reception that night and. . .
Before he could finish, the policeman clapped his book shut and walked off, without a blink of an eye.

Happy Anniversary!

Over 2 weeks ago, Mom took a spill.  On the steps.  In her white dress.  On her ankle.  In the temple.  In a hurry.  On Jeff's birthday.

Every year, going to the temple in honor of Jeff has been a priority.  Mom and Dad decided to go togetherthis year, during the day, away from crowds in the session and on the road. . . Now she wears a cumbersome walking book that can only be taken off once a week.  She has a borrowed wheel chair and a  hand- me-down shiny walker that fits only through prearranged wide openings of furniture.  She is mostly comfortable in Dad's 2 AM chair with a pillow under her knee.  The days go by slowly, except for a Dr. appointment last Friday that, upon arrival, she learned that it wasn't until Monday.  She also loves visitors.  Only 6 more weeks.

Last week was Mom and Dad's anniversary on September 13 (1951).  Things around their house had been so crazy that it wasn't until the next day that Dad remembered.  That only made him feel worse,  since he already blamed himself for the hurry at the temple.

Last Thursday I went out to fix Mom's hair..  That seems to brighten her day.  She feels and looks years younger again.  Dad made sandwiches and soup.  Then he disappeared.  In a few minutes, we heard him call Mom to take a picture.  (I thought he wanted a picture of them to send to a friend.)   She got up and carefully shuffled towards the table in the patio room.  She stepped in, and just like Cinderella at the ball, the room seemed to change as if they were the only ones there.  That's when she noticed the beautiful white frosted cake with mounds of pink frosting flowers.  It read," For My Love of 61 Years, Happy Anniversary". It sat perfectly in the center of the table.  She made a fuss.   He had set up a photo op with 2 chairs placed against the glass shelf in the corner  She convinced him to let her do her eye brows and put on some lipstick first.  He patiently waited.  When she came back, he led her to the setting of chairs.  Then he handed me his camera.  I was to be sure to get the inscription on the cake.  We also took photos of them together, and since it was their anniversary, we got some some of their sweet hands together.

Then, using Mom's stainless cake knife (the same one used for cutting their wedding cake 61 years ago), we ate cake.  It was perfect timing to hear their engagement story again.   And I felt privileged to be the reason to have a "party".

(Dad had had the cake for a few days, not wanting to overshadow  other birthday celebrations)

September 8

September 8, 1954

birthday of
Jeff Buehner

I think of him a lot -

especially when I eat oatmeal.

He hated oatmeal.

I Walk By Faith

Yesterday they took care of the other side of my neck at the skin Dr.  "Taking care" is becoming a pain.  I do only have one more known surgery to go, but the way the Dr. talked, I might be frequenting his office more.  I know they want me in there every 6 months.  I'm good with wellness checks. . .  but I'm running out of good neck space.

I feel like I did when I learned all our children needed glasses.  It seemed like the day before, they were perfect.  Then, the school nurse tested their eyes the next day and poof!  They were wearing glasses!  Their perfect bodies needed adjusting. 

Last night I was supposed to go to Enrichment.  I was really looking forward to it.  But I had come home from the Dr. with a huge scarey bandage.   I didn't have the nerve to tramatize all those women.  So, I cancelled out.  We were supposed to bring shoes that represented our lives.  I could have worn any shoes in my closet, because at this point in my empty nest life, I find myself walking by faith every day.   "Lead thou my feet.  I do not ask to see the distant scene.  One step enough for me."   I know that if I walk uprightly, my prayers will be heard for the needs (like glasses) of those I love, and even for the faith to know that a Dr.'s hands will be guided. 

 
 

What I've Learned

It's been almost a week since my little neck surgery.
Some of the things I've learned:

1.  The big padded gauze bandage tape was not what was stretching my skin.  It was those tight little stitches.  When I tried to hang a left to get out of the parking lot, I felt like a board!   I couldn't look left without turning my whole upper body left.  I honestly was still in the parking lot when I realized I should've just ask for a full face lift.

2.  There is not a bandage in any Walgreen's that sufficiently covers my stitches.  I've filled the trash with band aid papers from big "skin" colored (not!) patches that stuck to my poor hair, to craft project clusters of 10 regular band aids with the pads all lined up in the shape I needed, to a big bandage secured across the back by a regular bandage, to finally the success of a big bandage with translucent waterproof edges, except for the back edge, which I carefully cut off so my hair would be free of the sticky.

3.  I also have been up on the latest scarf tying / draping techics.

4.  Getting ready for church requires extra time.  After 3 changes of clothes, knowing the key accessory would have to be the scarf, I finally was satisfied.  Then, sitting in choir practice I couldn't feel my slip, so I stopped for a double check on the way to the chapel.  I was right. . .  slipless!  My luck, the choir was singing.  Great!  I suddenly remembered my 80 year old, prim and proper friend, Dorothy, in our family ward. When asked to say the closing prayer at church, she wouldn't have declined, even though she had forgotten her slip.  It wouldn't have been so bad except that it happened the last time she prayed, too!

5.  I recommend scheduling this sort of thing in the winter months, when high collared clothing is perfect for camouflage.   Summer in Arizona just doesn't work.

Or maybe Halloween . . .

Today Was a Day

Today was a day I was not looking forward to.  It was the Skin Dr. appointment day that has been on the calendar for a couple of months.
 
I had had two little places on my neck looked at in June, and sure enough, I was a candidate for surgery (outpatient, thankfully).  After 2 appointments, three biopsies were taken (one of the irritations I was completely  unaware of).  Sunscreen is the keyword, here.  I experienced a couple of bad burns in my youth; enough to know that my only pale skinned remedy for life, would be to steer clear of the sun for too long.

As I sat in the empty waiting room for them to call me today, I quickly bowed my head, praying that things would go fine.  It made me recall other waiting rooms throughout my life that I had closed my eyes and  silently pleaded in prayer for things to go fine.  It's funny, how many times and places those kind of prayers occur, and how meaningful they are. 

They called me back and proceeded to make small talk, relieving some of my anxiety.  But, I did have a question or two.  Since they would be working on my neck, I wanted to make sure the Dr. knew how delicate some of those veins are (in case he forgot).  I had been practicing at home and had come up with some crafty pinches to hold the skin away from my "life".  I was prepared to show him.  When he described his own pinching the skin away, I knew we'd be OK.  He assured me that he had never had problems before and let me know it was his goal to never have those problems in the future.  I felt better knowing we were both on the same page about that.

He also told me the surgery today would be on the mystery spot I hadn't detected, because it was the biggest (sheeeesh), and if I could get through this one, the other 2 would be a breeze.

It took him 2 tries before he was done.  I went from a quarter size scar the first try, to a half dollar size.  Then it was stitch up time.  More numbing, etc.  He would have made a great seamstress, I think, because when I ask how many stitches, he told me - 25.  He held out his hand when we were through, for a friendly handshake.  I shook it with a sigh of relief.  The nurse continued to patch me up.  She held up her hand in a sign language "C" with the fingers 4 inches apart to show me the size of the scar.  I'll be fine.  It's over.  I took my prescriptions and walked to the checkout window.   I scheduled the next surgery in two weeks.   I hustled to the car in the blazing sun and bowed my head gratefully again.

Only 2 more appointments  to go.

Attitude

"Attitude is the mind's paintbrush.  It colors every situation."

(This hit the spot today.)

William H. Folsom

 In honor of Pioneer Day today:
He is my Grandma Ruth (Folsom Buehner)'s grandfather.

William H. Folsom

anticipation

   Last Saturday was Clearance day in the hollyhock department.

Who says you can't make a giant bouquet?

I am always amazed at the last blossoms that hold out for the final pop; right at the tips!     That's why we wait; we don't want to miss any.
It's kind of like waiting for those two minutes until your microwave pop corn is ready.  Heaven forbid you take it out too soon!  What about those last ones that could have popped?
Or maybe it's like the 4th of July.  "Is that the finale?!"

It was a great season.  Here's to another year!

Seeds, anyone? 

Famous!

  

Felix K.'s 'Don't even say these aren't the best you've ever eaten because they are' Chocolate Chip Cookies

When the kids were all here in June, we were treated to these mouthwatering delights

from our Nebraska son in law.   He is a man of many talents, and being the originator of these prize winning cookies are right up there with the rest. 

In honor of his birthday this week, this is my blogging tribute to him . . . .(I know, what an honor!)

Besides, someday, when all the world will eat nothing else, I'll be famous . . .He'll be famous!

 

Kindred

This hollyhock makes me smile.  Dried out, but with enough spunk to pop out one last blast of color!
(It even had the "juice" to present 2 more lower blossoms after that.)
Yep, I'm a hollyhock worshiper!  . . . . We think alike.

It also reminds me of hearing this talk by Chieko Okasaki: 

 http://www.lds.org/ensign/1996/11/raised-in-hope?lang=eng

Love at Home

There is beauty all around

When there's love at home.

There is joy in every sound

When there's love at home.

Peace and plenty here abide -

Smiling sweet on every side.

Time doth softly, sweetly glide

When there's love at home.

. . . here comes the sun . . .

It's all RIGHT!

This, I know

Last Sunday, Randy and I spoke in church.  My topic was "Testimony".  I knew what I wanted to say, but while I was pondering, I was lead to other more Gospel founded truths, which I thankfully used, instead.
Since then, however, a memory I had while preparing, seems to keep coming back.  Part of my talk was about how your spiritual life experiences can be kept in your "duffel bag" of knowledge that can be unpacked and reflected on again and again to validate your testimony over and over.
Today is Julianne's birthday and since the story is about her, I'll fill you in on one of the most spiritual experiences I have ever had.
We went with her on that beautiful Sunday morning in her high school days, to receive her Patriarchal blessing.  President Myers greeted us and we followed him to the front room.  After getting to know her a little better, he led us all back to his study.  This was a big deal for Julianne, but it was also a big deal for me.  My firstborn.  Now grown into a beautiful, worthy, and spotless girl.  She sat in front of him with her arms folded, bowing with faith, as he stood behind her and laid his hands on her head.  His voice was soft and peaceful.  I tried to soak in every word.
I closed my eyes and as I tried to concentrate,  a thin veil surrounded me ,filled with the Holy Ghost.  As President Myers words turned to background, the words I heard so clearly were, "You do love her, but I lover her more."  With the veil still thin, I could feel the difference between my sweet love for her, compared to His much deeper love for her.  I then knew He did indeed love her beyond my earthly understanding.
I can't deny the feeling.  It was mine to treasure.  This I know.  Heavenly Father is real and we are spiritual sons and daughters of Heavenly parents who love us more than we really know.
When I think about that experience, the peace and validation comes back to me just like it happened a minute ago.
This, I know.

The Good Night that Never Ends . . . (Repeat)

A few nights ago, I was preparing for a talk, sitting at the computer in the quiet of the early evening.   Pete had been asleep for an hour or so, and Emmie had gone down just after that.  It was peaceful.  As I typed away, I heard a flutter from Emmie's room.  I turned my head to see her standing there so quietly, hoping for my attention.  I held out my arms with a smile.  She smiled back and tiptoed quickly to my side.  Her little voice was soft and sweet as she pointed to her collar.  "Grandma," she said, "my pajamas keep coming undone."  I couldn't help but notice her top two buttons, open to her shoulders.  I carefully looped each button back into its hole and smoothed her PJ top straight, again.  I put my arm around her and held her tight, caressing her little freckled face and smoothing her beautiful hair.  I was hoping the clock would stop.  Then I heard the sweet words, "Grandma, I love you.  I sure am going to miss you when I go back to Nebraska."  Tears welled up in my eyes.  I was in heaven.  I told her how much I loved her, too and reminded her how much fun we had had.  I knew that if I held onto her any longer she would see my tears, so I pointed her towards the bedroom door and with a pat, watched as she floated back, which gave me a chance to dry my eyes a little.  When she got to the door, she turned and stood there quietly.  I wanted to squeeze her tight when I noticed one last thing. . .  Her top two buttons were open to her shoulders. . .(repeat).

Sundays' the Best

My Mom's older sister Lenore (Cornwall), had a gift for writing: plays, stories, poetry . . .
When their family lived in CA. they ended up in a ward with no one to play the piano for Priesthood meeting, except for a man that confessed he could only play . . . "Chopsticks".
My uncle Shirl, was musical, and I'm sure, because of his eagerness to direct, Lenore humored him with this little rendition that was used for quite a few Priesthood meetings after that:

Sundays' the Best

A New Hymn to the Familiar Tune of "Chopsticks")

(Chorus)

Sunday, Oh! Sunday

There's no day like Sunday

Of every day,

Sunday's the best.

Free from our labor,

We greet friends and neighbors,

For Sunday is our day of rest.

Verse One

We all go to Church

Where we join in the search
For the answer
"What's Life all about?"
We sing and we pray
And we reverently say
We have found it
Without any doubt . . .oh

Verse Two
We all love it so
From the first bright, Hello!
To tje last fond farewell
And Amen.
Though we fuss and we fret
We know Sunday
is coming again . . .and

Verse Three
The Bishop goes oon
From the first crack of dawn
He's the last one to
Turn off the light.
But he would agree
That there's no way that he
Could go on until Saturday night . . .

Verse Four
The whole world is humming
The end may be coming
Before it does,
All need to know
That Misses and Misters
Are Brothers and Siters
And Father loves
All of us so . . .

End Chorus
He given us Sunday
There's no day like Sunday