My Heart Was Not There

          I don't recall ever having attended a leadership meeting on a stake level, but it seemed as though I had been invited - although I don't know who had told me.  I asked Roland if we were going.  He said that he would but not the adult session as he says he never gets much out of it.  I on the other hand, have always preferred the adult stake meeting as I rarely have ever gotten anything out of the Sunday meeting - especially since we have moved to Oregon.

          I had volunteered to work a shift at the Annex, but wore my dress so that Roland and I could just leave as soon as I returned home.  I returned home before he did and guessed that he probably wouldn't want to return to Roseburg.  I was right.  I should have just called around to see who else was going and if I would be able to catch a ride.  Instead I finished my homework for the week.  Only one other time since starting my online schooling have I not turned all my work in by Friday afternoon - which in itself is rare as most of my work is finished by Thursday and would be this week as well if my instructor's lectures did not take place in the middle of the week.  I hate that!

          So I did not make it to the leadership meeting or adult meeting - though it was actually light enough that I could have driven myself - I just would not have been able to safely drive myself back - nor did I want to deal with driving the Saturn up there.  Earlier this year we purchased a car with more horse power as the Saturn has been under a huge amount of stress with climbing these Oregon hills. 

          I haven't been feeling well in the morning as it has been so dry.  The reason we moved to Oregon was for the moisture which seems to be null right now.  I see the fog each day, but I don't  feel any moisture.  The river beds and ponds look much the same as they did in summer.  November is halfway over!  The water should be soaring!

          Roland purchased a humidifier - something I didn't believe I would never need in Oregon.  What is the deal?

          Marva and Shelly attended our church last week and Roland mentioned to them that we would not be holding our regular services today. We had them invited to come with us to conference, but Marva said that she was not feeling well.  I'm almost glad that they didn't come with us as it was majorly uncomfortable.  I don't mean the topics, but the set up itself.  In years past, I have made the comparison to feeling like a sardine.  Perhaps it's my imagination, but each year feels tighter than the last.  This year it appeared that the chairs had been set up to serve 8,000 people.

                                    I retrieved the above picture from this site: https://www.callfamily.org/2016/04/ -                                                                                             imagine sitting on these for two hours.  Notice the distance from the chapel.

          This year the doors on the stage were closed, though I think all the chairs that are normally used there were still set up which made for less leg room and near lap sitting in generic folding chairs.  So in addition to my already dry throat, I was experiencing leg cramps and wounded body parts unable to breathe.  After Roland stood up, I asked him if he wanted to leave and as none of us were getting anything out of the meeting other than earshot of the same old, same old . . . we left and came home.

          I have been skimming through conference talks and articles trying to feel inspired.  Thus far I haven't been.  It's my own fault, I suppose.

I Don't Think it Should Feel Like Outer Darkness

Half an hour early is

still not early, not 
enough time to get a 
seaton the pew.

One hour early would

not be enough time.

You'd have to get there at

6:00 before the doors open.

You and whatever other

vultures are waiting in the

parking lot.

If you come any time after

8:00, you have to sit on the

hard folding chairs that are

smashed so near one another

that you will feel like a sardine.

It is possible for me to sit in

certain chairs for two hours,

but not those hard folding chairs

made for thin people.

Give me a recliner, or at least something

big and soft.

During morning conference, I was

standing by the wall just as much as

I was sitting down.  The second time

I got up, Roland got up also

but then he disappeared.

Jenna asked where he had gone.  I

didn't know and so went to

look for him.  I found him out

in the foyer, sitting in a comfortable

red chair.  I knew he

wasn't feeling great and asked if

he wanted to leave.

He said all of the talks

sounded the same.  I don't

think all of them did.  But I

haven't felt the misery he

is feeling since we lived in

Salt Lake.

Probably when I was that

miserable, I thought all the

talks sounded alike and would

much rather be in bed than on

a hard folding chair looking

at a screen because

we are too far away to see

the actual speaker.

We might as well be

on the stage, furthest from the 
speakers.  That is where

Jenna wanted to sit.  Not me.

We sat on the stage last year and

it was dark.  When I stood up, I

thought I would trip as I tried to

adjust myself around the seats.  I

wonder if we could be allowed to

sit on the seats behind the podium.
(There are two stages I guess; one
in the chapel - though we don't really
call it a stage; the stage is in the 
cultral hall opposite of where the
speaker stands. I would be willing 
to speak if that

could be the only way for me
to get a more comfortable seat. 

When I am watching

General Conference on

the screen at home, I get more out of

it than if I am at the conference center and

the speaker is the size of

a dot.  For the most part there are

fewer distractions at home and so

I can concentrate better on
the speakers' messages.  
 Not always.

The Comfort in a Mother's Voice

Kayla was not feeling well yesterday. In addition to being pregnant she had symptoms of a virus or a flu. Jenna and I took her children over to the school to have lunch (I actually drove Kayla's car with expired plates) and then to visit a friend. That gave Kayla three hours alone.

Our visit was quite brief with Kayla when we returned her kids and left for the bus. Jenna had even remembered to get her painting from last week. We were home for three hours when Kayla called us back.

Bill took her to the hospital as she was having contractions and Jenna and I stayed with the kids. I thought we were headed for a rather long night with them, and then I heard the dogs barking and saw Bill's car in the driveway. The contractions and labor had been a false alarm. BJ did not come last night.

I have given Kayla the option of leaving Jenna overnight. Usually Kayla has to think about it – but last night was a definite “yes”. She didn't even bat an eyelid. Said she had a pregnancy class at 8:15 this morning.

Jenna is not yet twelve, and legally is not supposed to be left alone. But I said I'd be back in the morning as close to 8:00 – and may have made it to Kearns before 8:00 if I hadn't taken the time to eat breakfast – or if I hadn't been too lazy to walk up to the MAX instead of waiting on the corner for a different bus so that I wouldn't have to walk. But the third transfer did make me fifteen minutes late.

So Jenna was with the kids for fifteen minutes – unsupervised and fretting. When was I going to get there? What if something horrible happened. The truth is I actually wasn't that far from the house. That particular route runs every 30 minutes and I had missed my transfer by 3-5 minutes. And so I called Jenna on Kayla's phone and she called me. And I reported:

“I am across the street from the Smith's where we sometimes wait . . .”

“I am now on the bus. We just turned into that neighborhood that goes around South Ridge.”

“We have just passed the snow cone place and are turning back onto the main street.”

So long as she could hear my voice she was fine. The panic had disappeared. How great it is that we can take comfort in another's voice – no matter how near or far.

Taking Comfort in His Tender Mercies

There are some people who are so gifted in being in tune and teaching by the Spirit that the words they use just seem to flow so eloquently through their mouths and everything they say is so profound.  And you know that you can really learn from what is being taught.  That is how it is with my sister Sunny.  There are also several leaders in our ward that have that gift.

I know that there are a few posts in which I mention that I co-teach the youth Sunday school class.  There is no longer a manual provided.  Leaders and instructors are given general themes and guide lines of what is to be taught each month.  This is to help us to get in tune and teach by the Spirit – though I haven’t always felt that I have been prepared enough to teach by the spirit. 

I think I have attended all but two classes since I accepted my calling.  I don’t always teach, but choose to sit in on the days that Kelly teaches. Kelly does not attend each week and so sometimes we end up teaching from the same exact references. 

The leaders of the young men have chosen to sit in on the Sunday school lessons along with their youth – which I do truly appreciate as they both seem to invite the Spirit as they speak.

Most of the youth are very quiet and, though they appear to be listening, don’t participate a whole lot.

Before I gave my lesson last week I typed up my lesson and cut out parts to pass to the youth and would ask them to read or share his or her own example.  The lesson was on tender mercies, and I had used some examples out of two of Elder David Bednar’s talks and some from Corey’s blog (in case I needed more with my quiet class)

         The way I had tried to involve my class last week didn’t fly really well and I really didn’t feel the Spirit as I have with previous lessons.  I obviously had not been directed by the Spirit to hand out lesson parts to get my youth to participate. Kelly had told me that she’d be out of town and so was not there when I presented my lesson.

Randy said that he’d be giving a talk and invited me to come to his ward. Turns out our meetings are at the exact same time. I didn’t realize it was ward conference or I may have found a way to attend his church in Magna.  During my lifetime I have realized that ward conferences are either really very good or else I leave church very unfulfilled.  Fortunately most of it was positive for me.

Since I have been teaching in this ward, the most people we’ve ever had attend a youth class has been eight.  But today we had nine leaders (most visitors from the stake) and five youth squashed into our tiny room.  I was so grateful that it was Kelly’s turn to give the lesson. Turned out to be the same one I had delivered last week.  Same references and stories from Elder Bednar.  But with an added touch of stake leaders making comments in addition.

After the young men excused themselves and Kelly finished up the lesson, I used an example I had used last week (as only one youth remained that had heard it last week) I also realized that I’m not as out of touch with the Spirit as I think I am – not if Kelly and I keep landing on the same page of example.  So at the end of this particular lesson, I felt his tender mercy for myself.  And I am grateful to understand that now.

In Sacrament meeting the speakers are assigned the same topic throughout the month.  Our bishop went first and then there was a beautiful musical number – a medley of “Come Follow Me” and “Lord, I Would Follow Thee” played on violin.  It was awesome.  Musical numbers often are.

The second counselor in the stake presidency (who also happens to be a member of our ward) stood up and stated how he doesn’t like to follow the musical number.  I can so relate to that.  

I enjoyed his talk very much.  He had prepared two talks – one on the assigned topic of the month but chose to give the other as to not repeat anything.  Right away he had my attention.  And as Jenna spent the night with Randy and attended his ward this morning, I was actually able to listen to his wonderful talk.

Five things stood out as he began his talk:

1              “Don’t miss the boat!”

He said the boat is the ward thus

        

2              “We are all in the same boat!”

3              “Noah built the ark before it started raining.”

 

4              “We all need to work at our own pace.”

5              “The ark was built by armatures, the Titanic was built by professionals.

Food for thought.

There Are More Than 40 Hymns

        

         I can’t say for certain, but I think it’s highly probable that there are several wards (or congregations) that tend to sing the same 40 – 80 hymnals with each meeting.  That doesn’t even cover 50% of what we’ve been given.  And there are some choristers who have tried to introduce new hymns – which may have been enforced in recent years.  If I was called as chorister, I’m afraid our hymns would be the same familiar ones that we have sung at least 20 times during any given year.  I don’t think I have to be concerned about being called to chorister position.  I enjoy listening to music – and I will even lead – but not with expertise I’m afraid. 

         My brother, Corey, has often made the complaint that with over 300 hymns (and those are just the ones currently published in today’s hymn book – there’s got to be even more that we don’t have access to each week) – why is it that someone feels the need to sing the same hymns over and over again? 

         I’ve been in a few wards in which the chorister has introduced the hymn and we’ve actually had a “practice” but I don’t remember any of those becoming part of the curriculum for future meetings.  I think we have the opportunity to sing it one time and depending on how badly our voices butcher that hymn depends on whether we will ever sing it again or not (apparently our voices haven’t worked together well enough to pursue keeping it on our agenda.  That’s also a guess on my part.  I really don’t know.)

         Corey would LOVE the ward I am at now just for the opportunity of singing new hymn each week – even ones that the congregation obviously does not know.  I believed our chorister had given us every hymnal to sing three times over, until today when we were introduced to hymn #13 which only a few of members from the High Priest group were familiar with.  They sounded awesome.  I don’t know why this ward doesn’t have a choir.  Thus far it is the only ward I’ve attended that doesn’t have one.

         There are some hymns I obviously enjoy more than others.  Many people (who are familiar with it) like the hymn 284 – and I notice that all of those who admit to liking the song are very gifted with voices and knowledge of music.  I personally find it haunting and draggy.  I like the hymns to be uplifting and move.  There are some that drag on like you’re walking in a death march or something.  I don’t mean that disrespectfully.  It’s not even the words, but the tunes themselves.  Maybe sometimes it’s the words.  Perhaps it is just from my own lack of understanding.

     I do enjoy reading what is printed in the back pages of the hymnal – how to lead, finding hymns with scripture reference, and being able to sing the words of one hymn to another.  Take  “A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief” for instance.   I remember Corey singing that and changing to the tune of “I know My Redeemer Lives” and it was beautiful.  Corey and Joh can sing a cappella.  I can listen to them without a piano accompaniment.  They are that gifted.

         Between Relief Society and Sacrament meeting there are usually at least two hymns that I am not familiar with.  Sometimes there are only two that I am familiar with.  And our chorister should be praised for her persistence.  I think she’s too stubborn to give us familiar. I suppose that’s a good thing.

         How awesome it is that we all given talents that we might share and learn from one another.  How great it is that there are those who take initiative to go beyond the familiar. 

The Dreaded Bra

I despise wearing bras. I used to think I could get away with not wearing one as I have always been quite flat-chested the majority of my life.  But I have experienced major back pains and I realize that wearing a bra really does look better than going braless.   But for me, wearing bras is comparable to wearing shoes: the more support they have, the less comfortable they are.

Yesterday I wore the “Genie Bra” which didn’t seem so tight fitting until after a couple of washes – did the bra shrink? Or did I grow?  All my other bras seem to fit okay.

The Genie Bra looks good under tee shirts, but they also seem to absorb more perspiration than your average bra – at least mine do.  And as the heat seems to have started early this year, I might as well find a bra made out of sponge.  I hate feeling the need to change not even an hour after I’ve gotten dressed.  And I don’t enjoy wet clothes at all.

Tony and Rochelle are visiting from Texas.  My granddaughter, Ester, is running around and making discoveries and doesn’t mind so much being with Roland and me so long as mom and dad aren’t in the room – though she has decided to make Roland her friend as she was bringing him everything she could manage to get her hands on.

She cries when I hold her.  I think it must be the perspiration that woke her up yesterday and made her cry.  It’s not yet in her vocabulary to say, “Mama, grandma stinks!  Please don’t allow her to hold me.”

As I was straightening up the living room yesterday, I picked up some toys that Ester had played with, and I realized that I miss that stage of learner toys cluttering the house.  Jenna may not ever graduate from toys.  She wants to stay little.  Does NOT want to deal with the bra or enter womanhood.  I can’t say that I blame her.