Please Check the Collar

After we got Highness (our dog) we went and got him tagged and I went online to change the information on the chip (though I don’t think it’s taken) and somehow lost the tag within the first week or two.  I sent off the renewal fees this morning – but I’ve been informed that he is to wear his original tag.  He had four of them hanging on him this morning.  And now there are two – the newest being the one given for his rabid shots.

When our first dog, Houdini, escaped, animal control picked him up all too often – though we did occasionally receive calls from others who had found him – those that took the time to find the information attached to his collar. We loved Houdini.  But we just couldn’t afford to bail him out of jail.  He was a good dog, but apparently some saw him as a threat.  

 

Highness is a good dog overall.  I’m surprised he hasn’t spent time in jail.  There was only one time when animal control was called – but I called him in not realizing the animal control was about to step in. Still, I wish I could attach the following note (for those times that he does escape and someone will take the time to read it:

Dear Sir or Madam::

            My name is Highness Romero. I live in West Valley.  I’m basically a good dog, but if you are reading this, I’ve obviously escaped.  But do not worry.  I will not harm you or your animals.  If you heard me yowling or barking, it’s because I am excited.  I would like to sniff your cat or dog.  Once I’ve done that, I will be on my way.

            You can call my owners if you would like to (provide number) but I don’t have dementia and I can find my way home.  I’m sorry if my yowling scares you.  I don’t mean to be frightening.  I don’t bite.  Even when I am taunted and your animal is biting me, I don’t bite back.  I am a good dog.  I’m also adventurous.  Please don’t call animal control on me.  My owners can’t afford it.  It’s really not their fault that I’ve escaped.  For the most part, they don’t even know I’m gone.

            Thank you for taking the time to read about me.  Thank you for being my friend.

                                                Love, Highness

Okay, maybe it’s a bit cheesy.  I guess the name and phone number I’ve written on the collar will have to do.

Lions of Little Rock

I love Love LOVE this book.  I think it’s the best piece of historical fiction that I have read EVER . . .

Kristin Levine did a lot of research before writing this book found in the juvenile fiction.  Originally she thought she would do a story on the Little Rock Nine but as she was doing her research she learned about the WEC (Women’s Emergency Committee) and the STOP (Stop this Outrageous Purge) and the battle of Segregation/Integration and the closing of schools that followed the Little Rock Nine.

The author’s mother had left Little Rock in 1954 – three years before the nine were admitted to Central High.  She hadn’t had a first hand experience in the events explained in the story.

The story is told through the eyes of Marlee, a twelve – thirteen year old white girl who makes friends with Elizabeth – the new girl who is light enough to pass for white, but really she is what was then referred to as colored or Negro.  Today we say African American or black . . .

The junior highs in this story are opened, but all the high schools are closed.  Marlee attends junior high, but her sister attends high school. Judy (the sister), has a hard time with it as she would like to associate with her friends and perhaps get educated as well. 

Marlee also has a brother, David, who is away at college.  She loves her brother and sister dearly and misses David as he is at college and then misses Judy as she is sent away to live with her grandmother so that she is able to attend high school in another city.

Marlee is a math genius.  She loves numbers.  She’s not great with words however.  She hardly ever speaks.  Many of her peers just assume she’s mute.

Elizabeth (Liz) is quite outgoing and assists Marlee in overcoming her shyness.  They work on a project together and practice their parts.  Marlee’s greatest incentive is a “Magic Squares” math book which Liz uses for a reward.

But when it’s discovered that Liz is not white, both girls are forbidden to have any further contact with one another – which upsets Marlee’s world even further.  We are then introduced to WEC and STOP and the racial prejudices and the fears and taking a stand and “mixing races”

The title of the book has symbolic meaning. And there are questions at the end of the book.  Thought provoking questions.  And references to non-fiction material of events that occurred in Little Rock in the late 50’s and early 60’s. 

We’ve come a long way.  Unfortunately not everybody has been on board with the whole racial issue.  The Klu Klux Klan has thinned out tremendously, but there are still some active members.  I’d like to send each member of each group a pedigree of every member – prove to them that no one of them is pure. 

The whole racial thing has bothered me my entire life.  And Jenna yells at the top of her lungs, “What difference does it make?”

It shouldn’t make a difference.  And it’s sad that so many believed that it did – or still believe.  We are all children of God.  I don’t get the trials that so many have put themselves through due to skin differences.  How stupid!

I’m so grateful for those who have made a difference, who have carved a path to make it a little bit easier for those who followed.  I hope the prejudice dies and having a different skin, or religion, or favoring gender or a tattooed covered body doesn’t threaten anyone.  We’re all different.  And still, we’re all the same.

Ahead of Schedule

When I was younger there were two bus routes that I could catch on State Street near my mom's house.  The #7 to Highland or the #5 to Parley's way.  One of them went all the way to the zoo - but I don't know which one.

When I was working downtown, the route names or destinations had changed.  There were four busses that ran along State Street between 6400 and 100 South.  I could catch the 25 Midvale or the 22 West Sandy where I had caught the two mentioned in the first paragraph.  Or I could walk over to the mall to catch the 24 East Sandy or 12 Murray.  It wasn't that big of a deal to walk from 6400 to my mom's house.  And even though 25 and 22 were closer, I preferred the coming home on the 24 only because I didn't have to cross the street to go back home.

Thus far Jenna and I have been fortunate not to have to cross the street when we have ridden to school.  We even have the option of catching a bus near the school without having to cross the street. We do have to cross a busy street near our house however.  Don’t like that much.  And then there is the walking.

It’s too bad that we can’t take Highness with us.  I think he would enjoy the walks – but alas – no dogs allowed.  And there is no way that Highness would ever pass for a service dog.  What a hilarious thought.

So this morning we left the house earlier than on Tuesday (Roland was able to take her yesterday – and occasionally she may get a ride from Biff in the future – depending on how well he takes care of the car, or if it will pass inspection . . .)

I don’t know why three out of four of my kids find it necessary to be to the school 30 to 60 minutes before the first bell rings.  But Jenna really does get upset if she hasn’t been given over twenty minutes to play before line up.  When there are snow days and children are kept inside – guess who will go out to the playground if given a choice?

We stood between buses – and ended up taking the same one we had on Tuesday – so it did not get her to school any earlier.  But I am already at the bus for the return home when the first bell rings.

Right now the walk from the bus stop to the school is comfortable.  The air is not too hot. Not too cold.  Perhaps a little cool in the morning – but I would rather have the coolness (or the cold even) rather than scorching rays of the sun.  Jenna’s probably the opposite.  But for me it is perfect weather right now.

Anyway, the bus did come early.  Two stops later the bus doors opened while the driver and passengers waited.  Jenna asked why this bus wasn’t moving.  “It’s ahead of schedule” which is a rare thing – or at least it was before TRAX. 

 

 All bus routes have changed – due to construction – do to modernization and growth.  I think that they all go to TRAX at some point along their route.  But I don’t know.  Perhaps I’ll become more familiar with the bus system as I go, but for now I am very limited in my knowledge.

The stop where Jenna and I have been getting off and on near her school is in front of an assisted living facility – the first one I had looked into when my brothers were both in denial that mom would need to be moved so soon.  It was the least expensive of all those we had looked at.  But it did not have memory care.  Mom could have escaped from there quite easily.

I was told that the stop will be eliminated.  Right now the bus actually goes through SLCC   – but after December it will remain on Redwood and no longer through the campus.  Though I have seen students get off and on.  Perhaps it’s just not popular enough?  I don’t know.  

I was going to suggest we try another option when I pick her up this afternoon.  But as we will have to do it three months from now, I suppose there’s no hurry.  We’ll try the alternate soon enough.  In the snow. Hey, but at least we’re both getting much needed exercise. And it seems like more quality time than having her jabber on endlessly while I am trying to concentrate on the road.

Perhaps one day when I am gone, she will look back and remember this time.  And perhaps it will be more meaningful to her than it is right now.

The Break-Up Was Mutual . . . sort of

All throughout my married life there have been only two times in which we’ve had extra money.  Both times were actually in December – the year before Jenna turned one, and the year that Jenna had turned two.

We’d gone to a lot of used rental cars – loans aren’t made.  They want cash up front.  And seven years ago we just happened to have it. (Well, almost seven years)  We purchased a 2002 Buick Century.  And it has been a tremendously great car – mostly due to prayer, I believe.

When I had the car inspected for the 2011 renewal, I really thought that it would be the last time.  And yet it passed inspection last year.  The Lord knew that I needed it to drive to my mom’s and run errands – though I do remember Jenna and I having bussed it on occasion.  I don’t like to drive. 

I don’t know that I’ve ever enjoyed it. I do like the control that one has with personal transportation – so long as the car or truck is working.  Having unreliable transportation can be even more frustrating than waiting for public transportation.

On Saturday I took the Saturn – it was behind.  Two hours later Roland found himself in the driveway with the Buick and a dead battery.  It really didn’t come as a surprise to me as I had been leery of its driving ability just the day prior (well, actually the last eighteen months – just moreso on Friday) and had wondered at what point it would croak on us. 

The battery has been recharged.  I took it over to an honest mechanic who was willing to run a diagnostic but found in the computer I had gotten one last year and asked if I had gotten the fuel pump I needed for over a year now. 

“No.” I said sheepishly. 

Biff and I could both see the mechanics mouth drop to the floor before he asked how in the world we were able to drive it for all this time.

“Prayer.” I said.  I honestly believe that is what has kept it alive all this time.  “My mom passed away earlier this month and evidently I won’t need a car anymore.”

We are down to only one car and three drivers – two who work on a schedule.  Then there is still the matter of transporting Jenna to school.   I DON’T want to do what we did at the end of her second year at Vantana.  I DON’T want to drive in early with Roland and then go pick him up and wait for the duration for him to get off the phone (recruiting students for online university) I don’t particularly wish to weigh myself down to waiting for UTA – but in all honesty I’d really rather not deal with driving anymore.  I am tired of the weather, construction and other drivers.  And I’m sure there are plenty who will be happy to know I won’t be behind the wheel anymore.  Roland is not one of them however.

I had made arrangements for Biff to take Roland to work and Jenna to school.  After all, if he is using our car (and has been for nearly six months now) he needs to make sacrifices too.  But that would require my picking up Roland.  I’ve had too much stress on the road at that time of day.  He can drive himself and Jenna and I will take the bus.  At least we did this morning.  It worked out okay.  But it is a beautiful day outside.  And traffic was light (I probably could have driven; but I have enough troubles backing out of the driveway.  Backing up into the driveway (in case the car will need to be jump started again) would be a nightmare for me.

I’m okay with it right now.  I may feel differently when the weather changes again.  But driving in it wouldn’t thrill me either.  There are pros and cons either way.  Jenna and I will both get some needed exercise walking to and from the different bus stops.  We can cut the cost of our car insurance (though it appears that bus fare will be more) and best of all – I won’t have to drive. 

Look What I Made!

Jenna’s favorite princess, without a doubt, is Brave’s Merida.  Each November first she has announced what her costume will be for Halloween for the following year and each year she changes her mind – though there seem to be fewer changes. 

I know better than to plan her costume before October – although with the last two years she has only changed her mind two or three times compared to the initial eight (life was just so much easier when I was the one picking out costumes for her)

In November of 2010 she announced that she would be Big Baby from Toy Story 3.  Really?  After nine months I decided that maybe she really was going to go through with it and started looking for something she could use – though having my then seven year old running around the neighborhood in a dirty onesie did not thill me nor did I have a clue how to do her eyes so that she could still use both of hers in order to see.

.  I was grateful when she finally changed her mind and decided she would be Juliet from Gnomeo and Juliette. 

A red dress and white apron from Savers.  I really thought I would find something I could use.  But fortunately she wanted to change it again – this time to Tiger Lily.

Oh, Joy of joys!  I could do an Indian costume for really cheap!  I used two paper bags that I got from Winco and cut the fringe and allowed her to do the decorating.  She thought it the coolest costume ever!

Last year she decided to do something different.  For ten months she sounded serious about going as a teapot.  I had called Joh to get his expertise opinion on how I should do it.  He came up with a great idea.  But she changed her mind again.  She would be Velma from Scooby Doo. 

            I thought it would be less expensive and perhaps better made to purchase items from Savers – though Roland seemed gung-ho about purchaseing a costume from the Halloween store.  I don’t think it was worth the purchase.  The good news is that she can wear it again (at least for the time being)

            But this year she would like to be Merida.  The dress is from Savers, but I made the wig.  My initial thought was to make it out of about 6-8 boas – but I never got beyond the thought as the purchase for the boas themselves was over foty dollars – never mind that I had nothing to fasten the boas to.

I had purchased a pirate cap for a dollar.  I found Fun Fur  at Wal-Mart.  It was even the perfect color – unlike the boas I had found.  I wish I had thought to ask Joh if he would make time to make one, or if he had any suggestions for me – but I can honestly say that I did indeed make the wig all by myself adding one to three strands of hair at a time..  And it was for under ten dollars.

No, it is not true that I had done it all by myself..  Jenna occasionally helped to cut strands or thread the needle.    I think for the most part the work is pretty sloppy and the wig itself is obviously amature(as I really did have a hard time seeing what I was doing).  But Jenna is very excited about it.  And that is what counts.

I’ll push for another teapot again for next year.  Now that I have done the wig, perhaps I am ready for the teapot. I may miss another week or more of posting as I struggle to thread the needle and try to make it work.

Another Sunday

          When I was younger I remember having only two meetings on Sunday then.  There were three for priesthood holders – but for the first fifteen plus years of my life I recall there being only two meetings.

            I don’t recall the specific times or the length of time that took place between the two meetings.  I remember Sunday School being first, coming home to have dinner and returning to the church at a later time for Sacrament meeting.

            The other meetings were spread out during the week.  (e.g. Relief Society was on Tuesday nights, Mutual on Wednesday nights and Primary was on Thursdays after school.) but as the growth of the membership had taken place outside of Utah, the meetings were changed so that all meetings would take place on Sunday.

            It wasn’t until my last year of mutual (Young Men/Young Women formally called MIA – Mutual Improvement Association) that the meetings were changed to three in one block.  Relief Society (or Young Women’s – though I don’t believe we called it that then) was first followed by Sunday School and then Sacrament meeting was last. 

            So until I got married, I remember Relief Society always being first and Sacrament meeting being last.  But in Kearns in was the opposite.  Sacrament meeting was first.

           

            I think most wards have Sacrament meeting first – or at least that is my belief.  Currently I attend a ward in which Relief Society is taught first and Sacrament meeting is held last.  The stake President says as long as he is president that is the way it will remain.

            So here is my church experience for today:

Combined Meeting

(every fifth Sunday the RS and Priesthood meet together)

            Bishop gave the lesson.  His prepared lesson was to get us motivated for General Conference which takes place next weekend. 

            He started off by asking questions about “Why do we have general conferences?” “What are some things that can be learned?” and “What was your favorite talk from 1985?”  1985?  Is he serious?  He would have been in primary.

First I had to visualize where I was.  April 1985 was the last General Conference in which Bruce R. McConkie would give an address.  I knew when I watched him give his speech that it would be his last. 

I also remember the opening prayer being the absolute longest prayer I’d ever heard in my entire life.  No, I did not time it, but it felt like it had been somewhere between eight minutes and an eternity.

            I was on my mission.  It was a hard area.  Neither my companion nor I were in the right frame of mind to even receive instruction.  I don’t think a lot of the elders were overly thrilled with the area either.  I looked around to see how many had the same attitude as my companion and I shared.

            Bishop had asked for participation by asking us to share what Conference talks had made an impact on each of us.  I must admit that I do not retain things very well.  I remember last night’s session was quite beautiful and I remember thinking, “This is a great talk.”  Sadly I can’t tell you anything about what was said without referring to it again.  And I’m so grateful that we have ample opportunity to do so.

            So as I was trying to think of an example in which I could actually name the speaker and come up with enough words to paraphrase my mind wandered to General Conference October 1992.  That was the longest weekend of my life.  That was the last weekend that dad was upon the earth.  The TV was turned on to Conference but I don’t think I got anything out of it.  And even if so, I can’t remember any of it.

            General Conference April 2004.  My water broke on Friday.  My mom and my sister and my husband were all in the birthing room with me.  The TV was turned on to Conference on Saturday.  Jenna still hadn’t come and I KNOW I don’t think I got anything out of it.  I was exhausted Sunday.

            I’ve had some really nice Conference weekends – unfortunately those are not the ones I thought about.

Sunday School

            The classroom was full!  First time ever we had run out of chairs.  Six youth and four leaders.  I love it when the Young Men leaders sit in.  They participate and add thought provoking ideas and wisdom.  There’s one youth who will participate by answering questions.  I love the participation.

            The theme this month has been on commandments.  Some people have left the Church because they have found that the commandments are too restricting – which they’re not.  But sometimes freedoms aren’t understood until the restrictions have been removed and then there’s that “a-ha” moment.

            Wade shared his upbringing with family rules in addition to the commandments – restrictions that he didn’t understand as a youth but certainly appreciates right now.  One of those restrictions was that he couldn’t hang out at the mall.  Everybody hung out at the mall.  Was this for real?  It was mortifying.  But now he understands.  Two of his “mall friends” are now in prison.  And he just recently attended the funeral of another.

            I shared an experience that happened to me when I was fairly young.  The weather had turned from warm summer to breezy fall and mom said that if I wanted to play outdoors I had to wear a sweater.  Well that was humiliating.  None of my friends wore sweaters!  I had a sweater on when I left the house.  I intended on removing it before I played with my friends.

            One friend, who had heard my mom’s “command”, said that she was “lucky” because her mom didn’t care if she wore a sweater or not.  I don’t know how old I was, but her words hit me hard – “My mom doesn’t care . . .” and I thought myself the lucky one, the blessed one.  I had a sweater on because my mom cared about me.  And it stayed on.  And I tried not to question her commands because I knew that she did it out of love.

            James talked about the Word of Wisdom – which is a commandment for LDS members.  James reminded each of us that we all have the freedom to choose.  Each of us could smoke if we wanted to.  But the smoker doesn’t necessarily have the option of NOT smoking – it has become an addiction.  The smoker has become a slave to his or her habits and although they think they have freedom – for most it’s a long painful road to finally quit and remain smoke free.  (That is just one example) 

            Participation usually always makes for a very great lesson

Testimony Meeting

            The second counselor made the announcement that the bishop’s wife would be released from teaching Sunday School.  A chorus of groans could be heard by many members who attend her class and are not anxious to see her leave her teaching position. I for one am excited as she has accepted the position of activity’s day leader and that will be helpful to Jenna.

            After the counselor bore his testimony, he opened up the meeting for the rest of us who would like to bear our testimonies. I felt impressed to bear my thoughts of gratitude – to my family and friends and Heavenly Father, for the support, for the celebration of mom’s life, for goodly parents – for the bishop’s wife’s new position.  I went up to the stand.  But Brother Cole beat me to the pulpit.

           

            I think every ward has a Bother Cole – the one who drones on and on endlessly and the Spirit seems to have left the room.  His talk did start off as testimony but after two minutes he started rambling the same words over and over – even after the bishop told him to sit down.  He just doesn’t get it.

            The ironic thing was that his focus seemed to be on sharing testimonies and not wasting one’s time.  How about following your own advice and stop wasting the time that belongs to all of us?

            I should have stayed seated when I saw him walking up to the stand.  I don’t know how long he was at the pulpit – his head was in the way of the clock.  By the time I stood up there was only thirty minutes left and I had lost my train of thought.  If I hadn’t already been on the stand, I would not have gotten up.  I think my heart must have hardened when Brother Cole rattled on endlessly, wondering if I would even get a turn.

            I’m not the only one who lost my train of thought.  The sister who’d come up behind me said only one sentence before she returned to her seat.  I think the 11 to 14 people behind us eventually returned the Spirit back to us.  Still I was a bit upset about the way I had handled the situation and wished I could have a do over.

            Actually I will have an opportunity to bear my testimony after Conference – provided that the weather is drivable and I actually have a working car.  I plan on returning to mom’s ward where my testimony will be more meaningful (to me at least) as I still have a connection with so many of the members of that ward – the ward I still consider family.  For that I am grateful.

Two Weeks

 
Two weeks after I started my blog I became part of a search party who went out looking for mom who had dementia and had wandered from home.  She could not be left alone.  Each of us worked out a schedule so that someone would always be with her.

Two weeks after this year started mom was released from the hospital and spent her last night at the house she’d lived in for over fifty years. It had been on a Sunday when Ellen found my mom passed out and called for Nate to assist.  Patrick ended up taking her to the hospital.  He and Nate were both dressed for church but stayed at the hospital all day. They did not go to Church that day. Patrick had chosen to stay with mom. On Monday mom’s four children worked together to fill out the paperwork to move mom into assisted living. On Wednesday Kayla took mom to her new home at the assisted living facility – the last place she would live. And Corey came from Las Vegas to assist and say good-bye to the house. 

Two weeks ago we lay mom to rest - buried beside my dad.  She’d been rushed to the hospital two weeks prior to that.  It was on a Sunday when she was found passed out on the floor. She'd been rushed to the hospital. Patrick met her at there.   He was dressed for church but stayed at the hospital all day.  He did not go to Church that day.  He had chosen to stay with mom. He took the next two weeks off.  And Corey drove from Las Vegas to say good-bye.  We all spent time with her for 7-10 days.  And then she finally let go.

Two weeks ago Corey and Kayla and I met Fern and Michelle at the Mortuary.  We watched Corey and the Mortician dress my mom.  Michelle applied some lipstick – that’s all that was needed.  Mom looked like she always does when she falls asleep. She still has her purse.

Two weeks ago we talked with family and friends who had come to pay their last respects.  Sunny offered a beautiful prayer before we all went into the chapel. I tied mom’s bow and veiled her face – my final act of service for her.  The lid was closed.  I think Brian cried the hardest. His sobs just seemed louder than the rest - maybe because he's a giant.

 Two weeks ago today we paid our last respects and shared our stories and beautiful thoughts for such a marvelous woman.  Daddy’s birthday was the day after the farewell services.  It was on a Sunday. Corey had planned to spend this week with mom. Instead she's spending it with dad.  We miss you mom! (and dad)

Welcome to the 21st Century!

            I was never hospitalized as a child – except for when I was born.  But until I gave birth to Jenna, I had never been a hospital patient.  But I do remember visiting various hospital patients.  I remember that there was more than one patient to a room and only a thin curtain separated the patients from one another.  Each patient wore a plastic bracelet that would protect the descriptive paper that identified the patient’s name and medical information.  There were clip boards that hung from the foot of each bed.

Patients were asked if they preferred smoking or non-smoking rooms.  And visitation was always limited to certain hours and certain ages. 

            Today each patient has his or her own room.  They wear bands made of unrippable material somewhere between paper and plastic foam.  It contains bar codes which are scanned each time the patient is given medicine or surgery, blood and urine samples and so forth – possibly meals (that way it can all get charged to the final bill) No longer are stupid clip board kept at the foot of the bed.  Everything is done by scanners and computers. It’s so cool to see how technology has evolved.

            The hospital that mom was in is a no smoking zone – the entire hospital and property.  That’s pretty cool.  I think that’s a great revelation that has come to pass. 

 

            As I mentioned, at least one of my sibs was always with my mom around the clock – which meant spending the night.  I had three members of my family spend the night with me before Jenna was born.  Roland and my mom were both in chairs.  I think Kayla spent the night on the floor.

Not all hospitals have joined this century, I suppose.  When my granddaughter was born, Tony wasn’t allowed to watch the birth.  Talk about old-school.  That’s the way it was when I was born.  Dad’s had to wait in another room.

            I’m not quite certain if I remember from real life or if it was just from the television that I remember the dorky hats that the nurses were required to wear, and the crisp white uniforms – often wondering if they had spare uniforms in their cars or their lockers in order to remain clean and white - as it was never obvious that they had been around barf or blood.    Today they wear colorful scrubs or sometimes nice street clothes.

            Perhaps it’s not the same in all hospitals, but those are some of the observations that I made while my mom was dying at St. Mark’s Hospital in Salt Lake City, Utah.  That was actually the same hospital where Patrick and I were born.

Raindrops

I hear the clouds crashing
I think it's going to rain
I look outside above me
The skies are blue and
There is sunshine

Later I go outside to see
Raindrops on my driveway and
The sun is shining still.
I am lightly kissed by
a few drops
The breeze feels nice but
the sun melts away all the
drops as well as myself

Where are the rainbows?

                                                                        kfralc

                                                                       

No One Can Make You Feel Inferior Without Your Concent and yet . . .

fund raisers seem necessary

for raising money for

different causes

charities 

one may go from door to door

seeking collections

usually with product that

no one wants or

can afford  or

doesn’t like     

parties at both ends

feel emotion   

the recipient fells bad that

he can’t contribute     

or feels anger towards

the very idea of

having walked across

the room to open

the door to something he

may not even believe in         

or resentment because he

has purchased the product

when he knows it could

have been used more wisely              

the seller (or cause promoter)

either gives up because

she is discouraged that

no one wants to buy  

or else she continues

but with an attitude full

of regret and resentment and

eventually cries because

not being able to raise funds

has made her feel like a failure

Fund Raisers Should Not Stir

Up Emotion in Such a Negative Way

missionary work seems necessary

for the benefit of

saving souls 

one may go from

door to door preaching

the gospel and

sharing a message that

others may not know 

those individuals on

each side of the door

feel emotions  

the one inside

of the house

feels anger towards

the very idea of

having waked across

the room to open

the door to something he or

she may not believe in

or resentment because she

doesn’t feel the need to

change and feels that she is

being told to

change her ways         

the missionary often feels

like giving up because

he is discouraged that

no one seems to want

to hear the gospel or

else the missionary may

continue with diligence and

prayer sometimes feeling

regret and may eventually

come to resent the church

Sacrifice and Service

Should Not Stir Such

Negative Emotion

we are told that

we must be sealed

in the temple and

we are taught that

families are forever and

we are taught to live a

certain way so that

we may enter into

the temple but sometimes

there are those who

enter by themselves

because the family members

don’t always lead the same values

or maybe they do but

there is one part that

doesn’t seem in

harmony with the gospel

Our loved ones stand

outside feeling emotions

of anger

or respect

or admiration

or exclusion

wondering why a church

that promotes families

don’t allow the family members

see their loved ones get married

and those inside

wish that their

loved ones could share

in their happy moment

and may one day

resent having excluded

certain family members and

may one day be

outside the walls

themselves

We Should Never Feel

Discrimination.  God

Doesn’t Discriminate.

Man Does.