Day 2

Rhea and I spent part of the day working outside going through lots of things and emptying out a shed.  We stacked tires, moved the raft, found a dead animal (hope it wasn’t a cat), unloaded wood and pulled out whatever was motorized and started.  We made a plan and decided to move the snow blower.  I’ve never really used the snow blower but hard can it be I said to Rhea.  Let’s start it up and it will be easy to move.  So that is what we did – she pulled on the starter and lo and behold it fired right up.  Not fully knowing how to operate this piece of machinery I just took a guess and off it went full speed but as I tried to guide it into its new parking spot it wouldn’t mind itself.  We panicked and finally killed it down to a soft rumble but couldn’t get it to turn off.  We had a few options.  One was to let it run until it ran out of gas.  Call Dad.  Call Lane.  We opted for option two and three.  Mike never answered but Lane popped right over and said the ignition switch was broken and you had to pull the spark plug cord out.  We laughed so hard . . . but the soft rumbled finally deadened and so today I am so grateful for Lane.  He is also right there to help me with whatever I need.  He never says he will do it later he just hops up and is there to assist.  I am so grateful for good sons.

Day 1

I have chosen to do a gratitude journal this week for my “Five Alive” bonus point section.  I have chosen to use my blog as my journal and extend it through the weekend so it is a full week.   With fifteen grandchildren (one on the way) and birthdays flying at me left and right I am always “grateful” when I have a detailed birthday list to follow.  Hatcher face timed yesterday and he and his Dad read through his whole list.  There is absolutely no denying that Hatcher loves Paw Patrol.  I am so “grateful” for all my little cherubs and all their little likes.  I love all fifteen grand babies and Grammie (or Ahni) always brings an extra suitcase just filled with goodies and presents.

The Emotional Release

A truly bitter-sweet day as Bishop Uscola was released after a good solid five year reign. He has been a wonderful Bishop.  My kids have a deep amount of respect for him and consider him someone they can turn to when advice may be needed or a good hunting story told.    He is a kind man and his words of appreciation he always offered meant so much to me.  On the toughest of days his kind words of thankfulness made me want to be better and do better.  That small feat of kindness from him was the biggest boost for me.  He needs to enjoy some time to himself – he deserves a break, a big break.  Perhaps a flight in his plane where he can finally feel true freedom for the first time in a long time. And then, he will be serving again as his heart is just set to do so.

 

 

Not Pyros Yet

Fire is, in essence, pure energy and pure power.  Perhaps it is the adrenaline we receive from the control or sometimes the lack of control.    We are childlike as we play with fire, we poke at it, we build it up to a roar, we feel its intensity and our fascination spikes.  The long awaited day was today as we burned old stools, a broken bench, scraps of wood and cardboard.  This was the first of many roars to come as we prepare an area to put up a garage.  I would estimate about three more burns and we should be looking pretty good.  

Sniff Sniff

In the plainest of terms I love things that smell good.  I changed laundry detergent to Persil because I loved the smell of it when we were at Mary Jo’s house in Arizona.  I am bleaching tablecloths today and the squeaky clean aroma makes me feel good.  I only like “clean linen” as the scent in my car.  My friend Galene’s house smells amazing every time I walk through the door – she uses scented warmers.  I prefer the aroma of the toasted bread smell compared to a loaf of bread baking in the oven.  I like Murphy’s Oil Soap on my floors but Mike despises the smell.  Helen Keller said “Smell is a potent wizard that transports you across thousands of miles and all the years you have lived.”   Great smells are incredible but then I read this and I’m hoping my “sniffer” stays intact for a long time:  “Decline in smell may predict death within five years.  A recent study published in the journal PLOS One found that a decreased ability to identify scents may predict death within five years. The study looked at more than 3,000 Americans aged 57 to 85, and found that people unable to identify scents like rose, orange, and peppermint were more than three times as likely to die in the next five years.”

Who Am I Really

I got an update on my DNA results in my email.  I frantically logged in to see if a few of my dreams had come true.  Did I have a little African American blood in me?  Was I partially from some “exotic” country?   The answer came and it wasn’t exactly what I thought it would be.  So why the update first of all?   “Your DNA doesn’t change, but the science behind it does. Using our latest research, Ancestry implements regular ethnicity updates to keep your results as precise as possible.”  So now Ancestry tells me I am 1% European Jewish.   Ok, this is exciting!!

 

Blog Worthy Photo Session

We went to the temple this morning and all stood outside for a little photo reminder.  Scroll through the pictures below.  You will notice that the three perfect women on the left have hair that obviously doesn’t fly in a wind draft.  You will also notice that Gail and I on the right have serious hair issues and somehow hit a cyclonic gust.  Bless her heart Gail – she looks like the one in every class photo that just stands out.  I just love that lady.

 

 

Sweet Daisy

There are people in our lives that touch us significantly, whether it be their kind words or their gentle deeds.  One such lady is Daisy Blankenship.  I met Daisy about six months ago after she moved up here from the south.  She is ninety-one but as sharp as a tack with down home hospitality that surpasses anything we see around here.  Daisy was on oxygen full time and sat in her wheelchair but that didn’t stop her from slowly walking down the hall one visit to get me some warm wooly socks to keep my feet warm.  Daisy is in ICU at the moment and may soon cross through the veil.  Perhaps the line in the hymn says it best, “Each life that touches ours for good.  Reflects thine own great mercy, Lord; Thou sendest blessings from above.   Thru words and deeds of those who love.”

Streaks Of Brightness

Today it snowed.  I woke up to big white flakes and I was sure they would only last a few hours.  They didn’t.  The ground was white by late afternoon, the sky was dismal and gray and it certainly dampened my spirits.  By dinnertime the sky was bright and the sun was peeking through the windows.  It is just amazing to see how one’s soul can be brightened so quickly by a little brightness.   It makes me realize that even the smallest acts can have significant impact because we have an incredible power that we often forget about.  We have the power to brighten someone’s world, in big and small ways.  A kind gesture can do everything from make someone’s smile to soothe their sorrow to restore their faith in humanity.

 

 

 

He Is Risen

“Years ago, a man who raised corn came home from tending his crop and sadly told his wife that it looked like the corn was going to be a complete loss this year because it was full of aphids. This was devastating news because the family depended on the harvest each year. Together they worried and then prayed that somehow the corn would be saved.   The next morning, the man burst into the house and exclaimed to his wife, “Come quick!” Expecting the worst, she braced herself as she followed him out to the corn. Instead of ruined corn stalks and a devastated field, they found beautiful red ladybugs everywhere devouring the aphids. The corn was saved!   One small field of corn may seem like it doesn’t mean much, but it meant everything to this couple. Those ladybugs were proof that you don’t have to be very big to be part of a miracle.
Think of the miracles small and large that surround us each day. The changing seasons are a miracle. So are the sun, the air, and every detail that sustains our life on earth. Good things happen, and bad things often improve. People change for the better, and hearts can soften over time.   But what about those dark days and sleepless nights, the times when the cornfields are filled with devouring aphids and no ladybugs are in sight?  Sometimes the miracle that answers our prayers is not a change in our situation but a change in us to deal more courageously with sorrow and hardships. Sometimes the miracle is a compassionate friend or caring family member who listens and helps. And sometimes the miracle we need most is hope and patience and faith in everlasting things.
As we look for the miracles around and within us, it helps to recall a miracle that occurred 2,000 years ago on a spring day outside an empty tomb, where an angel said to two grieving women, “He is not here: for he is risen” (Matthew 28:6). When our hearts turn to the Risen Lord and that greatest of all miracles, our hope is renewed in God’s power to heal what is broken, restore what is lost, and turn endings into new beginnings.”  (The Spoken Word)