Dads Are Special

Two of my favorite blogs are written by fathers, who mainly write about their experiences with their children. You can find them here:

http://mikehenneke.mvourtown.com/

and here:

http://blog.nordquist.org/

As I read their blogs, I'm oft reminded of experiences with my own Dad.

I was four years old when my parents decided to take the family to San Francisco for a little vacation. I was tiny, so my bed in the hotel room was the bottom dresser drawer which had been pulled out onto the floor. I remember a lot from that trip. Dad convinced a taxi driver to go up and down a few of San Francisco's largest hills to give me a thrill. There was a woman on a street corner selling flowers, and Dad bought a red carnation for me. It was the first time anyone ever bought me a flower, and I felt like a grown up lady. We went to dinner on the wharf, and since Mom and I were not fish eaters, we had Veal Parmesan (which I love to this day).

Dad often danced with his children in the aisles of grocery stores. It was a little game that he played to amuse us--and he always succeeded. He also loved to take his children one at a time to Uncle John's Pancake House for breakfast. He would let us order anything we wanted, and my favorite was pancakes with boysenberry syrup and a chocolate milkshake.

Dad often took me to breakfast at the garbage dump. He would get up early on a Saturday or Sunday morning, pack a sandwich and a banana for me with a thermos full of milk, and while he was unloading the garbage, I would have breakfast in the truck and watch the "garbage dump flies" (seagulls).

Dad loved to work in his yard! He was so patient with me as I tried to "help" him. I'm sure he could have done things much faster if I'd gone in the house and left him alone, but he was ever kind about my attempts at helping.

I turned sweet 16. Dad took me to lunch, and I was introduced to my first Monte Cristo. He bought me a souvenir at the register when we left (which I still have). It is the Christmas story in a miniature book (maybe 2" x 2 "). I felt like a princess.

Dad was a salesman who worked on commission only, and sometimes it was difficult for him to stay motivated. When I was about 17, I bought a stereo from my earnings working at a local furniture store. My younger sister and I would blast 76 Trombones from "The Music Man" first thing in the morning. Dad would march around the living room with us and get his "motivation" for the day to go out and sell life and health insurance. No matter how bad things looked, Dad was always willing to march and laugh with us before he went out the door.

Dad often had appointments in the evening which took him away from the family. He didn't like the time away. He also didn't like to eat alone. If he missed dinner with the family, he would often come in late, grab one of his kids, and we would go with him to a restaurant to eat. I loved that time alone with him. He would listen intently to gibberish I had on my mind. I'm sure there were times when he wanted to shut me up--but he never did.

I have too many memories for this blog post. So to my Dad bloggers, I'd just like to say thanks. Thanks for being Dads. Thanks for being so willing to share your Dad experiences with the rest of us. Thanks for stirring up memories of my own childhood experiences with my Dad, who passed away 25 years ago. I'd like you to know that what you do is really worth it.

Reflections

I've been thinking about a question my Bishop asked me when he told me I was being released as Relief Society President. He asked me what I've learned. There is so much, that I didn't really give him an answer. I've spent the last couple of days mulling over in my mind how I would answer that question now.

Lesson #1: I've learned that no matter how hard a person tries to live gospel principles now, and how completely she/he repents now, that the consequences for past actions still have to be paid. It has been difficult to see people who are struggling so hard to be obedient, yet their lives are so messed up because of actions they took prior to learning the gospel and/or prior to the repentence process. The consequences for past actions must always be paid. The point has been driven home to me so many times, that I'm positive Heavenly Father wants me to pay attention to this. When I make a choice these days, I'm acutely aware that if I mess up, it will come back to bite me in the behind.

Lesson #2: My dad used to say, "You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink." So many times we've nurtured and prayed for people who had such great potential; and so many times we've seen people not live up to that potential and go back to old ways. I've had to remind myself over and over again that they have their agency. Even Heavenly Father can't take away their agency. How our Heavenly Father and Mother must cry for us at times!

Lesson #3: No one really knows what a Bishop or Relief Society President goes through until you have walked in his or her shoes--and unless you've walked in those shoes recently. I've heard from sisters who served 20-30 years ago who were charged with the responsibility of Christmas bazaars and fundraisers who think it must be so easy now. I would have killed for a bazaar or a "dime-a-dip" dinner instead of some of the things we handled. The world is not the same place in 2010 as it was 20-30 years ago. As a result, every Bishop will always have my utmost respect, and every Relief Society President will have my love, compassion, and service.

Lesson #4: Everyone has a story. I don't look at people the same way I used to look at them. Behind every cute, crusty little old lady there is a history. It is never just normal life of marriage and family; there is always something else. Everyone has a story; everyone has trials, adversity, and sadness. In the past when I looked at an elderly woman, or an elderly man, I just saw a long life. Now, I wonder if they buried children, or lost a loved one in a war, or lived through a house fire, or whether they raised a critically ill child. I wonder how much heartache and sadness it took to solidify their marriage and carve the laugh lines in their faces.

Lesson #5: Sometimes we all need kindness. I've never been a demonstrative person. I've never been a hugger. I've never been one to say, "I love you" -- except to a chosen few. I've learned that it's okay to hug and say I love you. I've learned that not only is it okay; but sometimes it is just plain necessary! Sometimes the only way we can help people is to hug them and say, "I love you." Whether I like it, or not, sometimes I need a hug and someone to say, "I love you." Sometimes the person I need to give me a hug and tell me they love me is not in the chosen few.

Lesson #6: I am a survivor. I think I always knew that, but it has been reinforced. I can withstand criticism. I can withstand lack of understanding. I can withstand long hours of worry and insomnia. I can withstand a seemingly endless line of problems presented to me. I can endure to the end.

Lesson #7: My husband is a saint. I always knew that, too, but we sure put it to the test! Not once did he falter in his support of my calling. Not once did he ask me put aside a responsibility in lieu of extra time for the two of us. Not once did he complain about my lack of attention to him or household matters. Not once did he complain about my constant grumpiness caused by pure exhaustion. On the contrary, he always put my needs first. He seemed to know what I needed before I knew.

Sweet Release

I'm writing this on Friday night, and Sunday I will be released as Relief Society President. I won't publish this until after the release Sunday. For my non-Mormon readers, each ward (equal to a parish) has a branch of our church women's organization, the Relief Society. The last 3 1/2 years has been quite a learning experience for me. It's been one of the most difficult times of my life, but I've also had some of the sweetest experiences of my life.

As Danny and I sat in the Bishop's office 3 1/2 years ago, the Bishop issued this calling. Danny laughed hysterically, and my mouth dropped to the floor. The Bishop looked at Danny and said, "Well, that's not an appropriate response." Danny explained that his wife doesn't like women--and I reiterated that fact. I've always worked better with men than with women, and I've always found women quite annoying, to say the least. In spite of our initial reaction, I did accept the call. I'm pretty sure that Heavenly Father wanted me to be Relief Society President so that I would learn to love women. After 3 1/2 years, I have learned to love women. Yes, they still annoy me at times--okay, often--but I've learned that if you sift through the pettiness, women really are wonderful people. Women truly are the nurturers of the earth.

I worked with two bishops during my presidency, as we had a Bishopric change. Both men were wonderful to work with, and truly inspired. I seemed to wear out counselors and secretaries. I had two first counselors, four second counselors, and three secretaries. All of these women will forever have my utmost respect and love.

The other night when the Bishop told me that I was being released this Sunday (we have been talking about it for a while now), he asked me what I had learned. There were too many things to pick just one on the spur of the moment. I did tell him what was the best moment of my presidency. There was a sweet little old lady in our ward who was dying. She had never married, and had no living relatives in town. The Bishop and I were called to the Emergency Room one evening. The doctors determined that there was nothing they could do for her but to make her comfortable.

I decided with my counselors that this sweet lady was not going to die alone. My first counselor was out of town, but kept in touch by telephone. Ironically, my first counselor was first in line on our friend's Durable Power of Attorney for Health Care, and since she was gone, guess who was second in line--and, yes, it did come into play. My second counselor and I, together with another sister in the ward, stayed the night in the hospital.

The next morning, I had a welfare food order to deliver, and then I was supposed to go to work. I delivered the food order, then called my supervisor and told her I wouldn't be in to work. I made some phone calls, and had some sisters in the ward take turns in the hospital so that my counselor and I could get some sleep. I had a very short nap, and was about to head back to the hospital, when I got a call that our sweet friend had passed away. I found it very appropriate that the sister who was with her was our wonderful Stake Relief Society President. (For non-Mormon readers, a stake is the equivalent of a diocese.) When my first counselor got back into town, my entire presidency was involved in dressing our little angel for burial. That was a moment that bonded the four of us forever.

The next two weeks produced a flurry of activity. Her home had to be cleaned out so that it could be remodeled and sold. We organized a whole group of people to go through her home, sort, organize, give away, and toss. Every waking moment when we weren't at our places of employment, or taking care of our families, we were sorting, tossing, and cleaning. We were all exhausted when it was over, but we had come together in the spirit of the Relief Society motto, "Charity Never Faileth."

That is only one experience in a 3 1/2-year period. There were many. I did not accomplish the main goal that I set 3 1/2 years ago. I always said I would be a better Relief Society President if I wasn't working full-time--but Heavenly Father knew I was working when he called me to do this. Looking back, there were other things that we did accomplish. I guess maybe Heavenly Father's goals were not my own. We took the ward through a merge with two other wards. I gained 101 new sisters and their families in that merge. I believe we were quite successful in making those new families feel welcome in our ward. We have huge ward boundaries now, and it has not been easy; but I think we are a pretty cohesive ward now--though not without problems.

I will not know until Sunday who the new Relief Society President and her counselors will be. Maybe I'll add some thoughts at the end after it is announced. I'm quite certain, however, that whoever it is will be the Lord's choice. We have a Bishop who prays long and hard for inspiration. I've joked about how he prays slow--as evidenced in how long it took him to release me after we began talking about it! The Bishop is an inspired man, and I know that whoever he has called is the Lord's choice. This calling is not easy, and whoever the new presidency is, they will have my full sustaining vote, and my full cooperation, respect, and love.

Addendum: The announcement has been made, and the sustaining vote is a done deal. Our new presidency will be wonderful! I'm so pleased! The Bishop may pray slow; but he prays well!

What Constitutes Courage?

UPDATE: As of February 19, 2011, she has lost a total of 144 pounds, which officially puts her at a Body Mass Index (BMI) that qualifies her to serve a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. While this is one of her goals, she is still working on the ultimate goal in order to live a long healthy life. WE ARE EXTREMELY PROUD OF HER!

BEFORE



AFTER

Courage is a lot of things. We talk about soldiers being courageous. We talk about cancer survivors being courageous. We've all seen videos of courageous people who have fought against the odds to do great things with their lives, and we applaud their courage. Courage comes in many forms, and means many things to many people.

Today I'd like to tell you about someone very close to me who is very courageous--my youngest child. I received her permission to tell you her story. My daughter weighed 10 pounds when she was born, and life has not been easy. She has always been overweight. It was years before someone could put a name to it, but they finally discovered she has polycystic ovarian syndrome. It is incredibly difficult, if not impossible, to raise an overweight child keeping self-esteem in tact. Our first priority was to make sure that she became a person who knew who she was on the inside. We walked a tightrope continually, trying to keep her weight down while letting her know that we loved her both inside and out.

She's a 20-year-old adult now. The last 15 months, she has worked very hard to lose the weight that she's been gaining her entire life. In the last 15 months, she has lost 122.2 pounds, and is still dropping. That's courage! That's intestinal fortitude!

She has learned what she must do to become healthy and stay healthy. She's learned how to adjust her eating habits, her exercise program, and her life habits to keep her strong. She has learned skills that will assure her a happy life. That's courage!

We're very proud of her! We've always been proud of her! She is as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside. When I grow up, I want to be just like my youngest daughter.

Dancing in the Night

As I sit here staring at the computer screen wondering why it appears so bright, I realize it might have something to do with night dancing. Let me give you a little background prior to last night's "dance."

My husband was diagnosed with sleep apnea at least 20 years ago, but the CPAP machine that was prescribed to help him breathe was a total disaster. In order to give him enough air, the CPAP machine would have to be turned up to the equivalent of driving down the highway at 70 mph with his head stuck out the window. We gave up, bought him an expensive recliner, and we learned how to play musical chairs all night. We began the night dance from bed, to chairs, to bed again. When diabetes was later diagnosed, it turned out to be a blessing in disguise because with the loss of weight, the sleep apnea is much better. However, he still finds the recliner in the middle of the night.

I began choking in my sleep a number of years ago. Apparently, I produce an inordinate amount of saliva in my sleep. Choking wakes me up, but then my throat burns for a long time afterward. The only thing that will alleviate the burning is drinking water, and sleeping upright in my recliner. This problem is coupled with the fact that I don't sleep well when it's hot. On the hottest summer nights, I've been found sleeping on the family room floor in front of an open sliding glass door, or even on a cushion on the back step.

So, last night . . .

It had been a pretty hectic day at work, but it is Danny's birthday weekend, so I stifled the urge to come home from work and crash, and the two of us went to a nice dinner alone, and then for a little ride. Unfortunately, the chaos of my day carried over into the evening, and I found myself wide awake until 1:30 a.m. I had no sooner drifted off on my pillow until I was awake choking. Fortunately, the burning in my throat was not as bad as it usually is, and I decided that instead of going to my chair, I would crash on the family room floor because it was hot. Danny came to check on me, and then cozied up to his recliner. Normally, I give myself a little more room in front of the door, but Kaylonnie had a jigsaw puzzle on the card table. I didn't want to put the card table close enough to Danny's chair that he might trip on it in the middle of the night. So I snuggled right in front of the door next to the china cabinet.

I was just beginning to drift off, when I was startled by dog whiskers in my face. I raised up and hit the back of my head hard against the bottom corner of the china cabinet. I moved a few inches away from the china cabinet, which was a good thing, since the dog whiskers appeared in my face periodically for the balance of the night. I appreciate the fact that Oreo loves me enough to check up on me in the middle of the night after I've choked and moved to the floor, but does he have to get right in my face??!!!

It was about 5:30 a.m. when I returned to the bed for two more hours before my day officially began. So here it is, after 11:00 p.m., my head is pounding, my eyes are throbbing, and I'm thinking -- am I ready for another dance?

My Buddy Dave

You can tell a lot about a man by the friends he keeps. When I married my husband, I got some pretty good buddies, especially Dave.

Dave was a relatively short, bald-headed, man with a smile that made me feel instantly loved. He never judged me--not even in my young and dumb years. He quietly stood in the wings ready to be of true Christian service every time we called "uncle," which was pretty much every time we worked on a household project.

My husband is a good man with some wonderful qualities--none of them involving a hammer or power tool. Danny and I would try our best to complete a household project and then call Dave to rescue us from ourselves. There is not a single room in our home that doesn't have Dave's stamp on it.

Among the many projects that Dave helped with at our home: A new roof, plumbing problems, ceiling fan installations, kitchen fan installation, kitchen cupboard installation, setting toilets in both bathrooms, and much more. I had painted around the huge valance in my living room several times, and one time I decided it would be easier to paint it if I took it down. It never occurred to me that if I stood on the ladder and took the screws out at one end that it would come crashing to the floor from the other side! I had no idea how heavy the thing was. As it came crashing down, it brought big chunks of the ceiling with it. Time to call Dave. In no time the ceiling was replastered, painted, and the valance was firmly attached.

We built an addition to our home, and that meant curtain rods had to be installed in the family room and in my new bedroom. I actually did a pretty good job of installing them myself. Then I made a crucial mistake. I followed my mother's example and put the curtains up wet so that they wouldn't have to be ironed. The problem was, I had very heavy thermoguard curtains in the bedroom at that time. The extra weight from the water in the drapes sent my curtain rods crashing to the floor--taking huge chunks of plaster from my brand new bedroom walls with it. As I lay on the floor crying like a baby, Danny called Dave.

Then there was my redecorating stage. I watched every show on television about how to redecorate a home on a budget. The time came to build my own headboard. I'm actually pretty good at crafts, and I built a really cool headboard. When it was finished, I looked at it and had an "Oh crap!" moment. It never occurred to me that this huge, heavy headboard would have to be picked up from my living room floor, carried to my bedroom, lifted up, and somehow mounted to my bedroom wall. Yep, time to call Dave.

In addition to his handyman skills, Dave was a master at making me see someone else's viewpoint. He never judged me, but gently guided me. He was a friend to me even when I was my worst self.

One night Danny and I were talking, and Danny made a slip of the tongue and stopped short. I pried and pried until he finally realized he was not going to get any peace until he fessed up to me. There had been a little conspiracy for a number of years between Danny and Dave. Dave had been single for years. At some point, apparently, Danny made Dave promise that if anything happened to Danny, Dave would marry me and take care of me. It never occurred to either one of them that I might have something to say about the matter!

Dave had a gift for remembering my birthday--which is amazing since it falls right before Christmas when everyone is busy. Dave never forgot my birthday. He always gave me a card. In all the years I knew Dave, he never mailed my birthday card. He came by the house and delivered the card himself. He took time out of the busy holiday season to come personally. One year he came when I was putting up the outdoor Christmas lights. I had been standing in the cold for a couple of hours, and was finally finishing up the lights on the orange tree when Dave drove up. Unfortunately, Danny wasn't home. Dave was too much of a gentleman to come in the house when Danny wasn't there, so we stood in the bitter cold under the orange tree and talked until the two of us almost had frost bite!

Dave is now in a happier place. He may have lost his battle with cancer, but I'm sure he's won the hearts of angels. We will miss you, Dave. Keep things stirred up until I get there, will you? God be with you 'till we meet again.

Porter Rockwell Book Reviews

Picture available through Wikipedia. Wikipedia reports copyright has expired.

A while back I wrote a blog post about my fascination with Porter Rockwell, who was the boyhood friend of Joseph Smith and later the body guard for both Joseph Smith and Brigham Young (among other things). You can find that post here:

http://lauriebeesfamilyhive.blogspot.com/2010/02/porter-rockwell-attraction.html

I recently read two books which I will review. The first, Stories from the Life of Porter Rockwell, by John W. Rockwell and Jerry Borrowman, was an interesting quick read. It is written by a descendant of Porter Rockwell, together with an award winning author. The book is a quick read of interesting tidbits about the man. It is remarkably unbiased for having been co-written by a descendant. The stories are quite endearing, as they give the reader a flavor for what life was like in the early days of the church. Some were stories that I had not yet heard about Porter Rockwell. I came away with a better understanding of the man's character, as well as his devotion to the gospel. It whet my appetite to read the biography which I will review next.

The second book I read was Porter Rockwell, A Biography, by Richard Lloyd Dewey. This is a remarkably well documented biography. The book is set up in two parts: a) the biography itself, and b) notes or further information. The notes are every bit as interesting as the biography itself. I found myself stopping at the end of each chapter to read the notes that applied to that particular chapter.

In addition to being an excellent biography of Porter Rockwell, the book is also a valuable resource for learning about the early history of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I came away with a much better understanding of Porter Rockwell the man, as opposed to Porter Rockwell the legend.

As I said in my earlier post, there is a great danger to judging history from our perspective. The life of Porter Rockwell was very rough, but the character of the old west was also very rough. It's simply not fair to just history by the standards of our times. Both books made me feel like I was living in the old west. I must admit that while I admire the tenacity and intestinal fortitude of my fore bearers, I feel extremely blessed to live in the modern era. Unfortunately, we very often take it for granted.

Both books are certainly worth your time, and you will come away with a new understanding of life on the frontier.