When We’re Predictable - Badges and Suits

                Our Sunday School lesson focused on the latter-day prophets and apostles.  Before getting into the lesson we were asked to share any encounters we may have had with any.  Melodie told about seeing Pres. Monson at a Jazz game and waiting for the elevator with his party.  They were dressed in suits at the Jazz game.  They are dressed in suits every time they are in public.  It’s an image that we perceive.  Could we view them as God’s mouth pieces if they were dressed in tee shirts and jeans?  Perhaps.  They are human beings with their own thoughts but do represent so much more.

          Long before being ordained as president, the then Elder Monson had come into Snelgrove’s ice cream parlor with some companions.  Burnt Almond Fudge was a popular ice cream with the general authorities.  President Benson would order a dish of BAF – no cherry please. Elder Monson would order a double thick BAF shake. 

          One night while he was there my mom went to his table to take his order.  When it was his turn my mom had asked if he would like his usual  double thick BAF shake. 

          “Am I that predictable?” he asked.

          Well, yes.

          Elder Monson than decided to do something unexpected and ordered a dish called “Desert Sunset” which is totally different from a BAF shake.  The dish contained one scoop of vanilla ice cream, a scoop of raspberry sherbet and a scoop of orange sherbet on either side of the vanilla. This was topped with a fruit salad topping.  It was not a popular dish.

          As they were paying their ticket, mom asked Elder Monson how he had enjoyed the Desert Sunset.  He didn’t say he didn’t like it, but did make it clear that it wasn’t a BAF shake.  Mom said he sounded disappointment about the choice he had made.

          I always thought that might make a great analogy on those of us who wear suits or name tags – who are looked upon as examples (whether we want it or not) and what if things changed?  What if we were to wear a tee shirt instead of a suit or order another dish out of the ordinary?  How is perception changed? Or does it change?

          Ordering one dish over another is not life changing.  Some choices don’t matter.  And yet there are some who are so admired they put a suit on out of respect to those who may follow their every move.  Some of us are predictable and that’s okay.  I like doing things out of the ordinary just to throw people off.  What do I accomplish by doing that?

Where Do We Draw the Line?

         The first time I remember meeting Ben (not his actual name) was at one of the schools.  There was concern about safety with gang violence and other criminal activity.  After the presentation there was a QA session and Ben provided three phone numbers to call.  One was the local police department, one was for the Sheriff’s office and the last one he gave he said was his personal number.  I had programmed all three into my phone but had only used one and never the other two.

Ben had run for office as the Sheriff head cheese – which was not the official title but he had worked under the Sheriff head cheese not as a deputy but an acting sheriff and had run against the head cheese I don’t know how many times.  He was running the year I dragged my husband to an adjoining neighborhood to support his campaign.  I remember liking his facebook page which I guess at the time qualified me as an automatic member of his group.

In 2011 we were living in West Valley (not a prestige neighborhood by any means) and Ben was serving in law enforcement in the overly prestige Cottonwood Heights (nearly 30 miles apart) when he had been caught using public funds for personal gain.  Whether it was intentional or not I do not know.  His work had provided him with a gas card to fill up the city vehicle that he used – however there was a suspicious 44 dollar discrepancy that could not be accounted for.  Investigation proved that the money had been spent on personal transportation.  Now I don’t know how often this was done as that is the only amount I come across as I search through old records.  At the time rumors made it sound like a regular occurrence.

I remember I was asked to sign a petition to “save” Ben from having to go to court, jail, prison . . . whatever the misdemeanor punishment was.  Ben did have a lot of charisma.  People liked him and surely he could be forgiven of this one minor mistake.  I liked him – I still do despite his tarnished reputation – but my initial thought was NOT to sign the petition but rather to make an example out of him.  If we dismissed the small act of crime (or perhaps it really was an accident?) perhaps a larger felon could be committed by someone in a higher office (say the mayor or the governor) and perhaps the public would look away and dismiss his actions.  No, the public had to know that Ben had committed a crime and would not be allowed to get away with it.  

If a public figure punished for something that seemed so small (how many tanks could 44 dollars fill in 2011?) but yet might ruin his reputation others may think twice before committing something worse.  If Ben didn’t get away with spendings 44 dollars of the taxpayers money (again, the amount could have been more but that is the only amount I have come across in my research at this time) would anybody else be able to get away with more?

In my last post I talked about a shared video that was removed from the page I had posted it on.  I had sent the shared video to my brother who is no longer on facebook but is on messenger.  He wrote back the following:

“I enjoyed the TikTok video. I do think the removal of the video on the church page is an unfortunate example of missing the larger message at the expense of a minor bit of innocuous profanity. But I also recognize that the administrators of the page have set some ground rules that they need to abide by.”

I thought of this example of Ben. I also thought about the evolution of programming.  Married couples (such as Rob and Laura Petrie or Ricky and Lucy Ricardo) were depicted as sleeping in twin beds.  Today’s programming shows you what they’re doing in bed – often not being married (at least to each other).  

Where do we draw the line?

 I love this example of the Kingdom of Rayad I had heard several years ago about how we will rationalize things to make them seem right.  In the Kingdom of Rayad the citizens were not allowed to eat chocolate cake or wear the color red but over time ideas are introduced like the color pink “which really isn’t red and it wasn’t all the time”. 

They are introduced to  chocolate chip cookies “which isn’t the same as chocolate cake”.  What may seem acceptable to some may offend others.  Where do we draw the line?  How about we stay within the boundaries that our Heavenly Father has set for us?  Perhaps this was a lesson I had forgotten and need to remember.

Not Often My Favorite Day of the Week

                I don't know for certain how many children Raone had, but suspect there were at least eight.  Leisel was among the eldest.  Roane was a devout member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and was diligent in her callings and offering service.  Leisel did not recognize her mother's great efforts.  Instead, she grew up resenting her mother's choices with neglecting her own family and blamed the church.  When she was eighteen, Leisel moved out of the house, she never had her name removed from the records of the church, but had stopped attending meetings and I believe disconnected herself from the family that she had helped raise. 

          I remember meeting her only once.  She was nice enough and seemed to have her act together - perhaps not financially.  She remained positive so long as church or family were not the topic of conversation - otherwise she would disappear. 

          I don't recall how Raone and her husband ended up living in the house that Leisel and her husband had purchased in Kearns.  I think they must have been paying Leisel and her husband rent.  I'm aware of the tension that Leisel felt growing up - especially on Sundays when the family members were given instructions on how to act, dress, behave, and so forth.  I don't know if the same tension existed for her when she was an adult.

          Raone was not in the best of health, but continued serving as best as she could and Leisel continued to stay away from the church.  As a teenager, I hadn't particularly liked Sundays either.  There was always so much tension particularly with my mom and one of my younger sibs. I had thought it was her and Corey that had a squabbling fest each week, but he says that her verbal arrows were aimed towards Kayla - which surprises me. 

          I do remember Kayla being independent and wearing some outlandish outfits as she always insisted she could dress herself - but Kayla didn't talk much.  For the most part I remember different family members taking advantage of her willingness to become our personal slave.  In my mind Corey was the opinionated know-it-all who didn't always agree.  It really doesn't matter which one - the point is that there was always tension in the house on Sunday.  For the most part I would choose to stay in my room and try to avoid any confrontation.  I hated Sundays, but not as much as mom appeared to as we'd get into the car and she had the look of an angry person ready to kill; not someone who was even close to eager to go to Church. 

          It's so weird to think about it now.  I'm happy that we outgrew whatever it was that made us so uptight on Sundays.  If Leisel's memories of Sunday were anything like that memory, I understand why she would stay away from Church - especially if it continued her whole existence - whereas my situation was not the same every year.  It fortunately did get better and I had actually forgotten all about the tension or Leisel and Raone until the last three Sundays after Roland's gotten on Jenna's case based upon her appearance.  It's true that Jenna is quite casual about her appearance and should probably put more thought into it but I am not going to harp on it the way that Roland does.  She's a rebel like I was and may start doing it out of spite and stubbornness.  I don't wish for her to feel bad about who she is or stop being who she is because of criticism.   By the time we get to Church, none of us want to be there. 

          There was an impromptu choir (because that's all we can seem to manage with this ward) and Jenna and I both went up.  I smiled as I would playing a part on stage.  That's all I was doing - playing a part.  Roland is not one to hold grudges.  He is always the first to apologize, but it took him longer on Sunday.  A lot longer.  And Jenna and I both cried about it.

          The theme has been on self-reliance - which really is an important topic - but I don't generally feel the Spirit anymore.  I feel more like I am at a rally or seminar and not church.  Missionaries have been working with many who need to hear the words that are spoken.  It is their turn, not mine.  I feel like I am going through the motions every week.  Sunday really isn't my favorite day of the week.  I guess Satan's probably happy about that.

          Unlike Leisel, I did not fill neglected by the service and compassion mom had shown others.  She was a great example for me and I loved to assist.  Mom taught me many values.  Thanks, Mom.

Car Wash Memories

        We went to get the car washed yesterday.  Though not an automatic carwash, it brought up memories - though not in chronological order.

Memory 1:        When Kimball learned to talk, he'd talk with such excitement that he'd often stumble over his words and came across as stuttering;  he would also put himself in third person.  Kimball LOVED vehicles, dump trucks, cranes, cherry pickers, tractors . . . you name it.  He really did know the names and what they did.  My mom thought he would be fascinated by the car wash as well.  He wasn't.  He was actually very freaked out.

        "I'm sorry, Kimball," (once in the automatic car wash has started, the driver needs for it to finish before exiting) "but I really thought you might like the carwash."

        "Kimball doesn't li-li-like the carwash.  Kimball wa-wa-wants to go."

        Grandma pointed out the light that was red and told Kimball that once it turned green we could go.  Kimball was so focused on that red light  that I think he forgot how scary he thought the carwash was.  As soon as the light turned green he cried, "Go, Grandma, Go!" 

Memory 2:        I don't know how old I was when this next memory took place.  I'm not even sure if I was in the car with mom or if I had just heard her relate it often enough that it felt as though I had been there.

        There is a sign with the directions on what one is supposed to do in the automatic car wash.  I think ROLL UP WNDOWS was number one, which she did.  But as she got closer to actually going through, she had to roll the window down to insert the coins.  She forgot to roll the window up and had just come from the hair salon.  Her next errand was picking up a prescription or groceries or something.  She pointed to her hair and told the cashier that this is what hair looks like before and after going through a carwash with the window down.  She said it gave the cashier a laugh.  But I remember her ragging on about it each time we'd go through that it specifically said to Roll Window before inserting your coin.

Memory #3      There was a carwash (not automatic) across the street from the ice cream parlor where I used to work.  I remember a group of teenage kids approaching the store after hours.  Instead of spending money on ice cream, they decided to go across the street and have a water fight using the car wash hoses.

Think Positive

        One of the gifts that I opened on Christmas was the Chicken Soup for the Soul "Positive Thinking"  stories full of reminders not to give up and to do whatever it takes.

        As I read I think of examples from my own life:

        Karyn was agoraphobic.  Her son had gone to a mission in Brazil and had developed feelings for a certain young lady.  After he had gone back to visit, he announced that he and this girl would be getting married and living in Brazil for a while.  Knowing that he needed some support from the family, he wanted his parents there, of course. Karyn and her husband had enough money for only one plane ticket. And because of her fears of dealing with crowds, it was decided that her husband would go.

        His job seemed to complicate the situation as far as the date was concerned.  It turned out that if he wanted to keep his job, he would not be able to fly to Brazil but said that his wife might be able to go.

        The reservations were changed so that they would be in her name, and she prayed.  She prayed long and hard.  It was a mighty challenge as she had to deal with the public at Salt Lake airport.  Imagine how terrified she was to fly into Brazil and face a more crowded airport and a more people than she could imagine.  Not to mention that the majority of people there would be speaking in a foreign tongue that she, herself, would not understand.

        She, of course, tells her story much better than I do.  I remember listening to her experience, fascinated with her determination.  I would have never guessed that she was agoraphobic - especially to the point which she expressed.  Now that's positive thinking.  I hate crowds but cannot fully relate to what she had to overcome.  What strength.  What admiration on my part.

        I wish I had all the details in order to accurately share Shauna's story.  There was a huge number of widows and shut-ins that I would go visit at least weekly.  I would go to uplift them - or at least that was my intention.  But I always saved Shauna for last or visit when I was the one who needed to be uplifted.    

        She kept records and journals that she didn't want anyone to look at until after she was gone.  She was such a great inspiration.  Her story needs to be told.  I had always thought that someone should interview her for an article in the Ensign Magazine or tell her story in any one of several  themed "Chicken Soup for the Soul" books.

        I had been told that Shauna had outlived her disease by 17 years.  I don't remember the name of the disease, but it seems to me that the tissues would swell to the point of choking out all of her other organs.  We were roughly the same age, and yet she was hooked up to oxygen while I was breathing on my own.  She remained active as long as her body would allow. 

        She had such a positive attitude and would always get dressed, because "only sick people wear pajamas all day"

        I was also told that she hadn't gone back to get her nursing degree until after she had been diagnosed.  She wanted to help people and make them feel better, and served others for as long as she was able.

        Laughter truly was the best medicine.  It was what kept her going - in addition to refusing to allow anyone or anything to take her down.

I also let the words to this song fill my mind each day.  I asked Jenna to color a sign that says: Daily Proverbs.  I change the thought every other day and try hard to apply the quotes to my life.  I really am trying to think positive.  

Instead of Complaining About What is Wrong, Be Grateful for What is Right!

Recently my brother Corey experienced a problem with his car.  Instead of complaining about it, he wrote a list of  things that he was grateful for about his situation.  He posted his list to facebook.  I tried sharing his post with my friends – though I think the only ones who might actually have an opportunity to view it are those that Corey is friends with already.  I just really like the attitude he has incorporated into his life.

He was grateful that his car had died in the parking lot and not on the crowded streets of Las Vegas.

He was grateful that the break down didn’t happen on the way to taking Joh or himself to work.
        

He was grateful to get roadside assistance through his insurance.

He was grateful that the weather was not typical of this time of year, but much cooler to wait in than the normal July heat.

Neither he nor Joh were on a schedule in which they had to be somewhere at a certain time.

Roadside assistance arrived within an hour, and because no one was parked next to him, made it easier for the technician to get to his car.

The car started!

The problem is no more serious than a bad battery cell.

Corey and Joh were able to finish whatever errands they had started as Joh’s car was working.

Coery was able to get his car into his auto dealership and drive it home the very next day.
        

Coery leaned that his warranty was only 300 miles away from expiring and did not have to pay for his battery’s replacement.

The dealership washed his car for free.

Moral: Even when bad, inconvenient, annoying things happen, there is still so much to be grateful for.

I try to apply this attitude to my own life because complaining does not solve a problem.  Hearing others complain has dampened my spirit – and yet I know I have been the complainer.  I have tried to do better and look at the bright side of whatever situation may come my way that I may make a list of things to be grateful for in a similar situation.

Pray Before Each Task

Roland gave our middle son, Tony, the nickname “Donald Duck”.  Too often Tony flies off the handle about situations he can’t control or doesn’t understand.  I told him that he needs to pray more often.  That didn’t seem to go over too well.

Prayer has been a part of my life forever.  I always had example of prayer.  My sibs and I were taught to pray.  We said individual prayers.  We said family prayers.  We prayed over the food.  We’d start family home evenings with prayer and end with prayer.  We said morning prayers.  We said prayers before we went to bed.  Before and while on vacation.  It was just something conditioned in me.  I don’t know that I ever questioned it.  Perhaps I didn’t always understand it, but I do now and have for such a long time that it’s hard to remember if/when I questioned prayer.

Oh, perhaps there were times I prayed for something specific and felt my prayers weren’t answered – at least not the way I had wanted.  So perhaps there was a time when I had the response: “I have prayed and it hasn’t done any good.”  I no longer think that.  I pray.  Sometimes it seems as though I’m doing it in vain – but that is when I need to question my part with prayer, and not the Lord’s as He is Always there and Always listening. 

Often times Roland has expressed frustration with whatever project he may be doing on the computer.  My response has always been to ask if he had prayed before starting his task.

I know that not all things run smooth or according to plan all the time.  There is the faith testing and God’s own will that often doesn’t correspond with what we think may be our own.

A specific example involves two different families from the ward where I had grown up.  Two grandmas, each with a grandchild who had a heart condition. 

From my recollection, both children were scheduled to have surgery within weeks of one another.  One baby lived and the other died.  Right now I honestly can’t remember which one.  Both families prayed diligently.  Various family members held a fast.  All of their prayers were answered – though not all experienced the same results – the results which they all wanted for the grandchild to live. 

So what makes one family different from the other?  Why would God answer the same heartfelt prayers so differently?  Why were the results not the same?  I don’t have the answer.  I just know, for me personally, that prayer adds a comfort that I had at least expressed myself.  And the more that I pray, the closer I come so that I do understand.

I realized that was one vast difference between the family Roland grew up in verses my own.  They don’t pray about anything.  They don’t even say grace over the food. It’s just so foreign to me that they don’t consider prayer – for anything.  How different their lives would be if they would kneel as a family and thank Him and ask Him for blessings.

Why would I not pray to thank my maker for all that I have?  Why would I not pray to ask for assistance from a higher being?  Why would I not pray for a miracle that can’t be mastered by humankind? Miracles can and do happen.  But we need to ask.

I thank my mom and dad for their fine example to include God in our lives and to pray before each task or major decision. 

Accepted as Part of the Family

I don’t know when the boys had lost touch with their mother’s family. Roland supposedly had her number on file, and the boys would constantly ask, “When can we see Aunt Judy again?”

I figured it should be up to Roland to provide the number, put in the phone call, make an effort to get in touch. It took me two years to realize that if the boys were going to get in touch with Aunt Judy, they would have to come up with another source.

I knew we wouldn’t find her under her maiden name and asked them one night to provide me with the first and last name of her husband and then we would look her up. I was surprised that there was only one Van Ball in Layton. I called Judy and introduced myself and learned that her father’s funeral had taken place only three days prior. She took down our name and address and sent out three programs (one for each boy). Even though the family had been out of touch, the three missing grandsons had still been named as honorary pallbearers.

Aunt Judy said that the family did an annual barbeque each year and would call us back with the details. It was the first time I had met the Walden family. What a great bunch of hospitable people! It was fascinating being in their presence.

At that time eight of Roland’s late wife’s sibs were living. Not all of them made it to the barbeque. I think that there were six or seven families there – or a few members from each family anyway. All of them are scattered in Wyoming and Northern Utah.

The boys were treated like celebrities. Well, I guess we all were. Aunt Judy took a million pictures! Not just of our family, but each family. And then all the kids. And then all the adults. And Roland and I had been asked to join in the adult picture – though neither one of us are Waldens. Okay, he had married Deborah Walden and would still be married to her if she had not passed away.

I was so impressed with how they embraced and accepted me and Jenna and made me feel like we had belonged to them for decades.

After that Aunt Judy always sent presents to Jenna for Christmas and her birthday. I thought that was so wonderful of her to accept Jenna and dote over her – even more so than she had with the boys.

The boys were actually able to see their maternal grandmother a few times before she passed. We didn’t make it to the funeral as we had gone to Roland’s Uncle Mike’s just the week before. Driving to Arizona in January wasn’t actually a big deal. Driving north to Wyoming seemed like it would be quite a treacherous journey that particular year. We prayed for the family's safety.

Though we did not make it to grandma’s funeral, we did attend funerals and weddings of other family members. Deborah’s oldest brother’s only daughter got married. I took Jenna to the luncheon that none of the rest of my family was able to attend. Later her mom passed away. I think all six of us went to that funeral. Or perhaps Randy and Tony were both out of the country at the time. I don't remember all the details.

We attended the wedding reception of Uncle Joey’s oldest. Roland told me that he and Deborah had each of their children within a few months of Joey and his wife. Joey and his wife came to the wedding receptions of all three of my boys. Joey, from what I understood was the most social of all the Walden children.

One of Deborah’s older sisters, Sandy had had cancer in addition to some other health problems. It actually didn’t come as a huge surprise to hear about her passing. I took Jenna to Aunt Sandy’s funeral. None of the men in my family were able to take the time off and Roland had asked if I would represent the family.

The latest death was a shock to everyone.. Joey Walden is a wrestling coach during the school year and a fisherman in the summer. He was on a commercial fishing boat in Alaska. He had told his comrades that he hadn't felt well and went to lie down for a while. A half hour passed when a member of the team went to wake him so that he could assist in pulling the nets. It was discovered that Joey had passed away in his sleep. 

They don't know the cause even though there was an autopsy. Today he will be buried in Wyoming. Joey is just a year younger than I am – and I would guess in much better shape.

We'd gone to the funeral yesterday. Pretty nice services. The boys' uncle was very well loved! There was a massive line for the viewing, and overflow into the cultural hall clear back to the stage. And that was just the people who were able to make it. I'm certain that there were twice as many not able to make it because of work or being out of town.

An angel sang "Be Still My Soul". Before the funeral services had even started, we heard her practicing. I cried both times. It was so awesomely beautiful.

The closing hymn was “Each Life That Touches Ours for Good” which is a sign to us all that Joey did just that. But he is on the other side now, having a reunion with two brothers, two sisters, mom and dad and countless others. Maybe meeting my family as well.

It was a wonderful service. He was an outstanding individual. I would imagine he still is.

Posts that Inspire

          Recently I was googling Individual Worth in search for a proper definition to use in one of my posts.  As I went searching I pulled up a few blog sites with inspiring stories which I would like to share and reference.

          I came across an object lesson given by Stephanie Waite in which she laid out various belongings on a table and asked her class what each object was worth and what made them valuable.  Some of the objects were perhaps expensive things and some objects may have been more valuable to one than to another.  But the particular object that may have seemed worthless to most individuals was probably the most valuable thing on the table in the eyes of its initial owner.

          It actually reminded me of an object that is close to Jenna – a stuffed dog she’s had since she was 6 months old – though the toy itself looks like he’s been around much longer than she has. It’s been restuffed twice and has had matted hair cut off – never to grow back again.  But Jenna loves it.  It’s her baby.  It’s her lifelong friend.

          Recently she allowed her cousin to “borrow” it – a huge sacrifice on her part.  But Kayla (my sister) was not all that thrilled about inviting Jenna’s beat up toy (which really is clean – but appears to be unkempt) into her house and chose to leave it in the trunk of her car.

          What makes something or someone valuable?  Love?  The kind of love that makes you valuable no matter what.  No matter how beaten or ratty (inside or out)  I loved her post.  I loved her explanation.  And you can read the full post here. 

          Stephanie’s last post referred me to another blog.  I read a post that could fall into the category of Choice and Accountability.  What a tough decision to be made – and yet what remarkable faith and strength that would help so many others.

          Collin Presley had health problems from the time he was born.  He outlived his disease by twelve years (from my understanding) but died shortly after a new medication was given. 

          Their first thought was to sue the doctor.  Collin still had life with the old medication.  Surely someone had to blamed for Collin’s death – but an autopsy would have to be preformed to provide proof.  Doing an autopsy would upset the organs which the family wanted to donate to those who were still fighting the fight.  A battle with attorneys would have been so costly.  It wouldn’t bring Collin back.  On the flip side his organs could be donated and bring life to others.  That was the choice they faced.  You can read more of their story in this post though I recommend venturing even further with prior posts

          Katy Pluim amazes me with her short sweet posts as she deals with having only one arm.  I am so impressed with the things that she has taught herself that I struggle with having two arms.  She is a beautiful person with a husband and a three year old (almost three) daughter.  Here is one of her earlier posts on dealing.

Unfortunately I did not copy the reference for this next story.  I tried going back to my initial research and to Google–ing with the given subject, but more sites were brought up than I cared to wade through.  My apologies to the blogger (though there are many more resources for this particular story:

“More than one hour after the gold-medal athlete had crossed the finish line during the marathon in the 1968 Summer Olympics in Mexico City, John Stephen Akhwari of Tanzamia entered the stadium.  Only a few spectators remained as the lone runner appeared.  The athlete’s leg was injured and bleeding.  He was dehydrated and confuse.  As he crossed the finish line, the small crowd cheered in appreciation for what would become one of the most famous last-place finishes in history. But it wasn’t the runner’s performance that caught their attention – and the attention of thousands more during the almost five decades since.  It was his desire to finish the race, to endure to the end.  After the event in 1968, a reporter asked the runner why he had not quit the race since he had no chance of winning. The Tanzanian athlete was confused.  “My country did not send me to Mexico City to start the race,” he replied.  “They sent me to finish”

I actually shared this next story in Relief Society when the instructor asked the class for comments about Integrity.  What goes around comes around.  I think this is a really great example.

And finally one idea to teach in classrooms – though children are more accepting and perhaps this ought to be applied to all adults as well  Stop the bullying already. We are all different.  Embrace the differences.   

          How great it is to have so many great insights and so many who support one another through their blogs and create ideas and share.  Thank you!

So, what would you do?

          Last week my husband spotted a wallet in the parking lot of a shopping complex.  His arms were full of groceries and he asked Jenna if she would bend down and pick it up. 

Excitedly, she retrieved the wallet and announced that it must be returned.  I am so happy that it was such an automatic decision for all three of us to turn the wallet in.  Oh, and we could have so used any money it may have contained.  But I’ve been in that situation too many times where I have been the one that has lost whatever – and if the roles were reversed, it is exactly what I would want the finder to do. 

As the grocery store is the largest – it is where we ended up taking the wallet.  The owner frantically entered the store only moments after we turned it in.  We told him where it was.  With gratitude he gave Roland a half embrace.

Jenna was a little bit disappointed that there weren’t any cameras or having John Quinones pop out of the woodwork to announce that we were part of his reality show.  Roland assured her that Heavenly Father could see her actions and has His own version of “What Would You Do?” and was giving Jenna a thumbs up for she did the right thing.

I am so happy that Jenna wanted to do the right thing.  And I’m happy about her excitement for the reality show which has really taught her values.  Thank you John Quinones and the creators of that show.

Oh, my picture at the beginning of the post?  That is Jenna mimicking John Quinones.

Silent Heroes

There are several variations of what may come to one’s mind when visualizing his or her perception of a hero.  There are comic book heroes such as Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, or even Word Girl.

Many people have benefitted from the heroic actions of the police, firefighters, soldiers, etc.  It is the uniformed men or women whom they see as heroes.  And they are, and deserve to be recognized.

         

          There are “heroes” who do it for the glory – just to be recognized as heroes.  And there are the silent heroes who work behind the scenes, who don’t ask for recognition, many who would prefer not to bask in the glory.  These are the true heroes.

          Roland is one of those heroes.  He does things out of nature – not because he’s seeking a reward or glory.  He just does things because they need to be done.

          For example, he’s really not mechanically minded, but he will stop to give people a lift or assist where able – whether he actually knows the person (or people) or not.

          One time (many years ago) he noticed an acquaintance waiting at the bus stop.  He offered her a lift just because of his nature.  But for her, it was a heroic act of rescue.  Neither of us knows all the details and so it is only speculation as to whether she woke up late, her car wasn’t running, she had barely missed the bus . . . whatever. 

She  has been grateful to Roland for his actions all this time – and it really wasn’t a recent thing.  Maybe 30 years ago?  Maybe longer.  An incident that Roland probably thought nothing about even in that moment, but in that moment he had become her hero.  And she has never forgotten.

My dad was a hero just by his example – supporting each of us in our dreams – supporting us from “behind the curtains” never feeling the need to set foot upon the stage himself.  And really not wanting to.  He didn’t have a desire for the praise. 

He was wise with money and knew how to budget and provide.  We may not have been financially wealthy, but daddy kept the family together and saw to it that we would take a family vacation each year. Daddy was a silent hero.

I remember being stranded on the road myself.  Kayla and Corey were with me.  Kayla was maybe about five or six.  We didn’t have cell phones then – and payphones were only a dime.  With the car (I believe I was driving the one that belonged to my grandmother, actually) pulled over to the side, I took each of the kids’ hands and started walking.  A man pulled over to see if we needed a lift.

As I pushed Kayla and Corey into the car, I thought: “What am I doing?  I don’t know this man.  He could just try to steal us and hold us for ransom”

But this “grandpa” who had picked us up became my hero for a moment.  As it turned out he really didn’t live too far from my grandma. 

And there’s another time when my neighbor was stranded on the freeway – with at least six kids in the car.  It was the “hippy era” and those long haired freaks had earned a reputation among the older generation which was less than flattering.  But it was two of those long haired “freaks” that helped us to move along.

And then there are the occasional customer service representatives who are serious about resolving my concerns.  Those are true heroes for making me feel like I am more important than a paycheck.

Strange how such little actions on our part can have such a huge impact on somebody else’s.

The Left Lane is for Passing

          Last May the bishop (leader) of our ward (Church boundary) had some major health problems along with his second counselor.  My husband, who was serving as the High Priest Group Leader, said to me that if the bishop had passed away during that time, the mantle would have been handed to him and he would have had to step into the bishop’s shoes (metaphorically speaking) until a new one was called.

          I don’t know how soon the first counselor (at the time of our ailing bishop) was called to take over the position of bishop.  But my husband was called as his first counselor.  It was to be his fourth calling in less than two years.

          But his second counselor holds the record of short lived callings.  He had been called as a Sunday School teacher – I don’t know for how many months.  He was released in order to serve as a counselor in the Elder’s Quorum.  The week after he was put in the Elder’s Quorum position, it was announced that he would be the new second counselor of the bishopric.  He had lived in the ward for only six months.

          So last June we got our new bishopric: our 32 year old Caucasian bishop, my 56 year old husband (of Hispanic decent) and a 34 year old fireball from the Philippines  Our new bishopric resembled that of an Oreo Cookie.

This last Friday the second counselor and his wife moved out of the ward.  We all knew it was coming.  Today they spoke in Sacrament meeting.

          The first speaker was his wife – she gave an awesome talk about staying on course.  She had two comparisons of wanting to “change lanes” and trying to “hurry things along”.

          Her first example was/is one that many of us are guilty of.  We drop by the store to pick up whatever. We happen to be in a hurry and the lines are seemingly never-ending long. (She must have been at a Wal-Mart)

          The specific example she used was a woman with a fidgety child.  She was in the express line and saw another line open up – but was still behind two or three people.  And for whatever reason, the line stopped moving.

          The child continued to fidget and the woman jumped in and out of lines causing her more anguish.  As the speaker checked out, she looked back to see the woman behind three groups of people.  If she had just stayed in line to begin with, she would have been next.

          The other example she used was in passing trucks on the highway.  She has learned that when she is in the left hand lane and she sees a semi signal to come over, she will allow it to come into her lane knowing that once it has passed its obstacle, it will go back over into the right.

   

      

          She says that non-understanding drivers will be upset that she has allowed a truck in and will attempt to pass both of them, swerve into the right hand lane, floor it and will have to slam on the breaks in order to avoid the obstacle that the truck driver was trying to avoid in the first place.

          So instead of passing this speaker and the truck, the “hurried” driver has to wait for the truck, the speaker, and whatever cars behind her before he or she can move back into the left lane – which defeats the purpose for having gone into the right lane to begin with.

          What’s the big deal?  Sure, being behind a truck is not always ideal – but a truck in the left lane is not going to be in the left lane for very long.  Trucking takes experience.  The drivers have a better view of things from where they are sitting.  Sometimes we need to trust that they know what they’re doing and show a little patience.

          Same with our Father in Heaven.  He can see a whole lot further down the road than we can.  We need to trust in Him and stay on course and not be in a hurry to get around what we think is unnecessary.  If we just accept the “slowness” as part of the plan to begin with and stay on course, our journey will be a lot smoother.

          The speaker compared moments in her life when she herself wanted to switch lanes thinking they might get her to her spiritual destination at a faster pace, but would end up becoming discouraged or frustrated, but would have a better understanding about WHY when she finally did arrive where she thought she wanted to go.  And continues to go.

          She’s experienced so much anxiety over this last move – not wanting to leave but needing to.  And now that they are moved she is more at peace.  And now has a better understanding at staying on course and having faith in God who is ahead of us seeing all.

          It was a really good talk.  I did have more to go with my notes.  Rather than elaborate further though, I can create some new posts out of what’s remaining.