The Flag

I left church right away when we were done to take Deb to the airport so she could pick up her vehicle.  As we passed Fort Richardson I noticed that the flag was flying at half mast.  I asked Deb if she knew why and she said no.  Right away I retorted that it was flying low because my presidency was disbanded today and we are mourning and in a reflective state.  No one ever thinks I am funny so on we drove.  But, I am sad and contemplative on what a great presidency I had.  Heather is so great at our music and teaching the girls new songs, and when we sang on Sundays in our Young Women Room she could always give the first note for me.  She is the seamstress too and it was great to have her bring and know exactly everything we needed for our projects.  Shantel is the sweetest, kindest person and she loves Pinterest!  Yes we connected.  She likes putting the events together like I do.  She is so dependable and when we are told to have our quarterly reports in – they are already in.  Love that gal.  Adrienne is a jewel and the girls love her and Finn!!  Always Finn!!  I can rely on Adrienne for anything and she definitely has creative flare.  I’ll claim her as a daughter any day.  I googled and found out the flags were flying low because of Peace Officer’s Memorial Day.  Never heard of it- so, my flag  flies half way down for these great women who in their own way helped me to become a better person and who made our year together worth more than anything else.  I salute you!

What is a Giab?

There is something to be said for “busting a gut” with friends.  This afternoon Deb, Shari and I worked on a project that later included Rhea too.  As we were working and talking I suggested to Rhea she make some dessert so she chose PB Jo’s.  As we were talking and eating Rhea shared with the group how we often make up names for things.  PB Jo’s was made up after we stopped in Alberta, Canada to visit my mom.  We ate these bars that were really good and then some time later we named them Peanut Butter Jo’s (I think Jolene really liked them).   Then I shared my “giab” story.  Many years ago we bought one of those big garage tent things to put our lawnmower, snowblower etc. in.  After Mike purchased the tent, the big box it came in was lying outside and I noticed it said.  Garage in a Box.  So I renamed the item, since I didn’t think it had a name.  It was the Giab.  So, how would Devin know that there really isn’t a word “giab”?  He wouldn’t.  He recently told us that he mentioned to Bill West something about a “giab”, and Bill didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.  We took about a five minute “bust a gut” moment.    Oops, sorry Devin.  I guess we do make up names a little too much.  These are Rhea’s yummy PB Jo’s.  No really Devin, they are.

The Backpack

I spent this evening cutting out fabric strips for a Young Women’s project while watching/listening to Forensic Files.  Gosh I love that show.  I took a short break and drove down to Steve’s (it will always be Steve’s even though it is now Big Lake IGA) to grab a few things.  While I was checking out there was a guy before me buying a back pack, batteries and a lighter.  He was interesting to say the least.  His hair was partly shaved but in a pony tail and all pulled up in his hat.  His clothes were kind of “skater” like and all in all – scruffy and scary.  He was buying the backpack for “the boy”.  I will admit, I gave the guy the “stare down.”   As I was driving by the school on my way home and wondering if “the boy” was a student there, I flashed back to the Student of the Month get- together a few days ago.  I escorted one of our students there and was able to mingle and be a part of the congratulatory event.   As I scanned the crowd, I kind of had the same thoughts.  Scruffy and scary.   I should not be misunderstood in the fact that these people truly love their children – they just look like Devin may have had jurisdiction over them when he worked at Goose Creek Correctional Center.   So, I made it home and got back into the Forensic Files.  I’ll be going to bed soon and I just can’t end this day thinking of all these things I have experienced and thought about.  I even contemplated what my alibi would be for the evening and if I left too many fingerprints.   It is time to turn it all around and be so grateful for all the good in this world and for all the things that make us smile.   Thank you Blaze and Kyla.   Oh yeah, I still love forensics!!

 

60 MPH

I noticed my little flag on my car as I was driving into Wasilla this evening.  I took this quick window shot, on this beautiful day, to show you how amazed I get when I see that little black and white rectangle blowing at 60 mph. and that it stays on.  I know my car hasn’t been with me long, but long enough for me to be truly amazed.  I love that little flag.  I thought I might want to get with my Mini Cooper people soon at one of our rallies to get their take on the flags – oh I’ll be checking their cars/flags alright.  There is quote which says, “Because when you stop and look around, this life is pretty amazing.” I love being amazed.  Emma, is three, she is Vietnamese and her and I have short sweet conversations when I get my nails done.  I listen to her speak in English and Vietnamese.  I asked her Mom how she does it? When someone comes in she speaks English, if they are Vietnamese and come in she speaks English, to her family she always speaks Vietnamese.  She talks to Mom and then talks to me.  Two languages. I think her Mom is a little amazed too.   At school the other day, one of my little students noticed the new pattern on the napkins I brought in for snack.  Not just noticed, but was utterly, shocked and amazed and delighted with this new green horizontal pattern.  It amazed me that he would notice.  No one else noticed or even cared.  The mind works in delicate and intricate ways.  It sure makes life great, doesn’t it?   I have a friend, only for about a year friend, and I can’t imagine life before when she wasn’t a friend.  I could be her Mom- well I’m old enough to be her mom.   She is amazing.   She has a way of putting things together that I love, a real flare for good taste.  I love her shoes, always have.  Her son and my grandson kind of started off in the mother’s lounge together.  She is my right arm in my calling.  She let’s me unload and I don’t think she judges me for that.  She is one of those people that cross your path in life and you know exactly why you were in their path. I love you classy Adrienne!   I sure am glad I stop and look around, because my life really is absolutely amazing. By the way,  I’ll be checking my side window a lot too – just to make sure we are still blowing in the wind.

 

 

Virtue

Tonight was New Beginnings.  We did a value mall and we had eight women who were the store managers.  Each store was assigned to a value.  I was Kay Jewelers.  I was virtue.  I talked about the difference facets of a diamond and how they relate to young women.  I just knew that wasn’t enough so I shared with them the following post that I did today for them:  It went as follows:

My dress was rented for $25 from a little bridal shop in Orem, Utah. I was getting married in the Salt Lake Temple.  I had no money. I sold my little Honda Civic so Mike and I would have money to drive up to Alaska.  I had never met my future inlaws.  Our wedding was moved up so we could spend the summer together in Alaska so I didn’t expect much from my family in the way of a reception or anything.  We had no money for pictures so Mike’s old mission buddy took a few.  I had some friends, I think four, that gave me a small bridal shower.  They all pitched in to buy me a very pretty nightgown. One pretty gift. I worked up until a few days before we were sealed.  Mike had finals up until the day before.  That morning, we waved goodbye to our roommates at Sparks Apartments in Provo.  It was very strange to think I was going off to be married – for eternity.  Mike and I got in his car, with our life belongings and headed for the temple.   It was just us. We had some family in the temple and a nice luncheon afterwards.   We then headed for Alaska.  You may feel that I have no glorious wedding foo-foo to share.  No dress of mine to hang.  You may want to look at my wedding album of professional photos but there are none. I had no cake that day. We received a handful of gifts that we cherished.    We were married on April 22, 1982 – close to 32 years ago. I have something more glorious  and sweet to share about that day.  I was virtuous. I knelt across that altar, in my rented white gown, and felt pure and strong and was marrying a righteous man.  I was taught by my Young Women leaders about virtue.  I completed everything in my Treasures of Truth book as it was called then.   My virtue was my prerequisite to being there in the temple.  Its standard, my fulfillment far exceeded anything else about that day.   Nothing trumped that feeling of having high morals – not the cake, the reception or the absence of a bouquet. Please know that I wasn’t perfect but I had burning in my heart for a number of years prior to my wedding to be “good.” I traveled a great distance to attend the Cardston Temple in Alberta with the youth.  It was a two day trip there – for a day of baptisms and two days back.  I know I felt the spirit. I don’t remember being baptized. I don’t remember the church services we held.  But I do remember vividly how I felt and how badly I wanted to stay clean and pure. The world is tough now, back then, it was tough for us.  It was the hippie era.  Everyone wore jeans with peace signs penned on them, we wore our hair straight and long. All my friends smoked cigarettes. That was just common.   The aura was peace and love and freedom.  There was more for me though.   There was early morning seminary and Youth Conferences.   I had to pull away to make it through.  I may have been the odd ball for awhile.  That was ok.  I didn’t tell people I was Mormon because we just didn’t do that then.   In a  church building in Vancouver, British Columbia where I grew up , this quote is inscribed high above the cultural hall.  It became ingrained in me.  “If there is anything virtuous, lovely or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things.”    That goal to be clean, began when I was young. For just a few fleeting moments I wish I could take each of you with me and travel back in time to that sealing room in that glorious majestic Salt Lake Temple and have you kneel next to me at that altar.  The spirit would testify to you that virtue is of God, its price is far above rubies.  I am grateful for all my experiences , my goals and many prayers that took me to that altar that day. 

Bread of Life

A few years ago I dove head first into bread baking.  I was going to perfect the whole wheat bread loaf so that our family partook daily.  I followed a blog and to the tee did all her recommendations.  My loaf that is pictured below was quite above par, even to the level that I took out my ruler and measured it.  Success.  The taste, the texture, the height and the color were sweet bells of joy to my usual lack of culinary delights.  Bread.  There is deep meaning to the word.   In a synagogue in Capernaum Jesus offered nourishment such as they had not anticipated:  “I am the bread of life; he that cometh to me shall never hunger; and he that believeth on me shall never thirst. (John 6:35)  He went on further to say, “I am that bread of life.  Your fathers did eat manna in the wilderness and are dead.  This is the bread which cometh down from heaven, that a man may eat thereof, and not die.  I am the living bread which came down from heaven; if any man eat of this bread, he shall live forever; and the bread that I will give is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world.”  (John 6:50-51).  I don’t bake bread much these days.  My wheat, my grinder, my honey and even my lecithin mixture have not surfaced.  There is a call to feed His sheep,  There is a need to earn my daily bread.  My family needs to partake of His bread of life.  My works, my daily deeds, my service all need to be directed to Thee.  Truly,” God has prepared for us, in His words, all the food that we ever need.”  Alistair Begg.

Germination

A beautiful week of sun projected here in Big Lake.   I like to dream, and while dreaming I was thinking of my lawn,  sitting on my riding lawnmower while making cool patterns on the grass.  And then, I remembered I had sinned.  Every fiber in my being was sickened by the act.  I was repulsed that my mind would allow me to fall into these thoughts.  The sin occurred last summer and its affects still permeate my being. Let me retrace back to the event that precipitated the deed.    I just wanted to get rid of the stupid weeds on the lawn so I headed to Target and bought weed killer.  The truth be known – I bought grass killer.  And I drove home, loaded up my sprayer, and I walked the meadows and I killed, murdered and mutilated every little grass seedlet I dropped that poison on.  .  The lawn was blemished, forsaken, ruined, forlorn and basically gone.  I am aware of the 5 R’s of repentance and knew I must put them in place.  Number 1.  Recognize the sin.  Oh, honey, there is no denying by the look of this photo – I mutilated the lawn.  Great moose pic though.  Number 2.  Remorse for actions.  I seriously hated to look out my bedroom window.  I couldn’t have a lawn party.  My heart was a sunken vessel just thinking about the bald patterns that glared at me.  Number 3.  Repent to the proper authority.  I wish I could say I went to the proper authority but the proper authority came to me.  Mike pointed out my error in judgement.  Number 4.  Right the wrong.  I researched.  I googled.  In a nutshell, rebirth and regrowth.  I really couldn’t do anything but wallow in my transgressive state and pray earnestly for God’s mercy and grace to germinate beneath my grass.  Number 5.   Do not repeat the sin.  I now love weeds, I love crabgrass.  I want them to be a part of my lawn because they are a reminder of the trials in life we go through.  It is a reminder of how we can once again be clean and pure.  This rebirth and a renewal of seed that I hope to see when my dream comes true will be solely on my mind as I am once again John Deereing it on the “greens.”

Bound Forever

I just found out that Mike signed me up to be in the Mini Motoring Club of Alaska.  I haven’t got my information yet but it is forthcoming.  I got on the website to see what was involved and every second Tuesday of the month we meet in Anchorage at the City Diner.  We get together for a lot of events, kind of like a big family that sticks together.  We park our cars in a long line – all backed in.  Gives me chills.   I stopped in at Mini of Anchorage the other day – talked to the brothers – yes we are a family.  Blest be the ties that bind.  So I have my Mini Motoring Club of Alaska, I have Facebook, I have my blog and I have my phone.  Blest be the ties that bind.  I think it is important we all play a part in keeping the family unit together, the camaraderie tight,  the communication flowing and all the ties we can keep tight and bound.  I offer deep gratitude to Great Grandma Peach and Blaze for doing their part.  After packing up the car the morning we left Pleasant Grove, Kyla and I  came inside to the delight of a double selfie.  Blest be the ties that bind.

The Sticky

I took Little MC through the car wash this morning and as I was sitting in the bay waiting for the big octopus and roller brushes to do their thing, I felt very insignificant.  Just a teeny little car in the midst of gargantuous machinery.  I was beginning to wonder if the equipment would actually reach my little auto – it was a daunting thought which grew into great concern.  I don’t like to feel insignificant.  I will admit that over the years I have felt insignificant at times.  I think we all do.  I want to do or be something great in my lifetime.  I don’t know what – but what a great thought to leave this world “a better place.”   There is a quote which goes,” you will always feel insignificant if you never do anything to change the world or another person’s life, other than your own.”  My Dad once told me that he wishes we could find one thing in life and excel at it.  I have pondered that and to be honest I just plug along each day and have not yet reached what that is.  I have a radio/timer/temperature clock at school that flips back to the 12:00 position periodically.  I was getting frustrated when my coworker Mike said, “have you put batteries in it?”  So, I bought batteries and sat them on my shelf.  Finally, when it flipped off again, I took it down and opened up the little back compartment.  There was a little sticky which read,” You are the best.  Have a great day.”  I smiled and thanked him,   Such a tiny gesture of kindness with meaning that made me feel somewhat significant.  Perhaps my small acts of hard work were noticed.  Perhaps I am leaving a small legacy in Room 7.  What if each day I did something small to help change someone, which would then change the world, and then after 365 days and hopefully 40 more years, those 14,600 acts left a huge imprint on this world.  Yes, that is what I am talking about.    Kind of like Little MC as we made it through the blow dryer at the car wash.  We pulled out of there, all proud and shiny, put on airs and cruised down the Parks Highway, half the size of all the other vehicles but with great “significance” indeed.

These Buses

These buses leave Big Lake Elementary School every day at about 3:50 pm.  I often take pictures of the buses and they all vary due to the different elements we experience here in Alaska.  Many pictures are dark and with snow, some have sun and clear skies, some probably have strands of my hair on the lens because of the nasty blowing wind.    Nonetheless,  our routine in bringing the children out is consistent, with safety always the foremost.  So what about these buses?   “These buses” make me solemn, they make my eyes teary and they allow my heart to swell .  This is where the stories begin.  Some children go home to comfortable, modest homes, while some live in a travel trailer with a tarp on the top.  Some children have no running water and shower other places, maybe once or so a month.  There are girls with beautiful french-braided hair and there are some than know no such luxury.  Some Dads work on the slope, some are in prison and some helped do Math the night before.  Some children stoke the wood stove when they get home because the cabin is cold and they may wear two or three pairs of  socks to bed.  Some children don’t see a Mom or Dad.  Some children are wearing all their snow gear because the school provided it for them.  Some children walk through the deep snow to their homes and others are picked up in their Hummers.  Some children like to sit on the “pot” at school because at home they really do sit on a pot.  Some children cry and throw fits because school is “home”.  These buses carry my daily precious cargo.  These buses remind me that I have much to be grateful for.  These buses remind me that these children are strong, courageous and resilient and most likely know how to start a generator. I am ok to release their little hands from mine at the end of the day because “these buses” bring back the value to my life the following morning.