They buried one of my friends yesterday. She could have been on my list of "Forever Friends" that I wrote about last month, but wasn't. I didn't go to see her a couple of weeks ago, knowing how sick she was with cancer--probably because I want to remember her as the healthy, cheerful person I have always known.
Our relationship hasn't been as close as it once was, but I never had the courage to tell her the real reasons. One was the strong perfume she usually wore, which choked me up in an allergic way, and the second reason was her small fluffy white dog, whom she dearly loved and brought with her just about every place she went. I really hate little yapping dogs jumping all over me (with the exception of Annie). I wonder if we would have been closer if I had not wanted to spare her feelings???
So goodbye friend, Carole. I'll remember the plays we went to together, the visits we made to other women in our ward, your teaching me to paint ceramics and make 3-dimensional pictures--especially the pansies-- (I got one of those pictures at the garage sale your daughter held at your old home). I'll miss not seeing your home decorated for Christmas every year. It was one of the best. And I'll miss the talks we had about men.
I remember when you went to the temple for the first time. I was so happy for you! With our ties to Southern Alberta I wondered if we could be related--I still think we could be. Most of all, I'll miss your cheerful smile and the hug you gave me the last time I saw you.
Until we meet again, you will be on my list of "forever friends" whom I hope to meet again in the hereafter.
Maybe I was wrong to avoid seeing her when she was ill, I guess I should have, but I will always remember her.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Why Latter-day Saints Build Temples Or What Some People Really Don't Understand
A couple of days ago my husband drove the ward missionaries around to visit some part-member and inactive members. As they approached one home on the list they saw the husband working out in the yard, even though it was after dark. He guessed the man was in his mid-fifties. As Merle sat in the car the two young elders got out and began talking with the man.
Merle could hear part of the conversation, which went something like the following:
The man said, "I took my wife to church once--it was on Easter Sunday--and all they could talk about was asking for money! Money, money, that's all they want, so they can build up those big temples. Why don't they give that money to the poor?"
In thinking over his comments I wondered if his trip to church was dated twenty years ago, when we were raising money to build the Portland Temple? It could have been a time when families were caught up in projects to raise money. Some people grew gardens and sold the produce, some put on diners, others baked bread to sell, and some folks just made donations. It was a time of sacrifice.
Why would so many people sacrifice so much to build a temple?
First, we wanted a closer temple. The next closest was in Seattle, which required a drive of three hours one-way. Or about twelve hours turn around time if we stayed for at least two sessions. Before Seattle, the next closest was Oakland, 600 miles south. We took overnight bus trips lasting 20 to 24 hours depending on how many stops the buses made. Or, before that, we could choose to go to Idaho Falls, Cardston or Salt Lake, which were each 800 miles away.
Why do so many people want to go to the temple?
So we can do baptisms and other ordinances by proxy, and with proper authority, for our deceased relatives, and so we can be sealed together for time and eternity, because we love each other. The deceased relatives still have the option of accepting or rejecting the ordinances, we just make it possible for them to have these blessings.
The man in the yard thought we should give the money to the poor.
How can anyone living in today's world not know about the tremendous work the Church has done to help victims of natural disasters world-wide? How did he miss hearing about thousands of Latter-day Saints who drove hours to get to Mississippi and Louisiana to help cleanup after Hurricane Katrina? Or for that matter, the work crews from Seattle and Portland who helped flood victims in and around Centralia, Washington? In addition to Humanitarian efforts, we donate items to Deseret Industries, which helps people who are out of work with job training and basic needs. We donate the cost of two meals or more from fasting once a month, especially so the bishops can assist ward members in need. And many of us donate to other charities of our own free will.
The man's third comment, which seemed unlikely, was that he and his wife attended church on an Easter Sunday, "and all they could talk about was money."
This seems highly unlikely. I don't think I've ever missed going to church on Easter. Sermons on Easter Sunday are always centered on the Atonement, Death and Resurrection of Jesus Christ. For this, we must all appreciate the Savior's great Sacrifice, for without his Sacrifice, we could never be resurrected ourselves and forgiven of our sins. And, in the long-run, all the work we do in all of our temples to seal together family units, would be for nothing, as Malachi warned, "the earth would be utterly smitten with a curse." (Malachi 3:4-5)
If this less-active man could only realize it, the true treasures that come from the temples are when family members are sealed by Priesthood authority for time and eternity. They are well worth any amount that is spent to build and maintain all our temples.
Merle could hear part of the conversation, which went something like the following:
The man said, "I took my wife to church once--it was on Easter Sunday--and all they could talk about was asking for money! Money, money, that's all they want, so they can build up those big temples. Why don't they give that money to the poor?"
In thinking over his comments I wondered if his trip to church was dated twenty years ago, when we were raising money to build the Portland Temple? It could have been a time when families were caught up in projects to raise money. Some people grew gardens and sold the produce, some put on diners, others baked bread to sell, and some folks just made donations. It was a time of sacrifice.
Why would so many people sacrifice so much to build a temple?
First, we wanted a closer temple. The next closest was in Seattle, which required a drive of three hours one-way. Or about twelve hours turn around time if we stayed for at least two sessions. Before Seattle, the next closest was Oakland, 600 miles south. We took overnight bus trips lasting 20 to 24 hours depending on how many stops the buses made. Or, before that, we could choose to go to Idaho Falls, Cardston or Salt Lake, which were each 800 miles away.
Why do so many people want to go to the temple?
So we can do baptisms and other ordinances by proxy, and with proper authority, for our deceased relatives, and so we can be sealed together for time and eternity, because we love each other. The deceased relatives still have the option of accepting or rejecting the ordinances, we just make it possible for them to have these blessings.
The man in the yard thought we should give the money to the poor.
How can anyone living in today's world not know about the tremendous work the Church has done to help victims of natural disasters world-wide? How did he miss hearing about thousands of Latter-day Saints who drove hours to get to Mississippi and Louisiana to help cleanup after Hurricane Katrina? Or for that matter, the work crews from Seattle and Portland who helped flood victims in and around Centralia, Washington? In addition to Humanitarian efforts, we donate items to Deseret Industries, which helps people who are out of work with job training and basic needs. We donate the cost of two meals or more from fasting once a month, especially so the bishops can assist ward members in need. And many of us donate to other charities of our own free will.
The man's third comment, which seemed unlikely, was that he and his wife attended church on an Easter Sunday, "and all they could talk about was money."
This seems highly unlikely. I don't think I've ever missed going to church on Easter. Sermons on Easter Sunday are always centered on the Atonement, Death and Resurrection of Jesus Christ. For this, we must all appreciate the Savior's great Sacrifice, for without his Sacrifice, we could never be resurrected ourselves and forgiven of our sins. And, in the long-run, all the work we do in all of our temples to seal together family units, would be for nothing, as Malachi warned, "the earth would be utterly smitten with a curse." (Malachi 3:4-5)
If this less-active man could only realize it, the true treasures that come from the temples are when family members are sealed by Priesthood authority for time and eternity. They are well worth any amount that is spent to build and maintain all our temples.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Wanna Be Happy? Get the Christmas Spirit!
A book written by Jason F. Wright called Christmas Jars tells about a family that saved all their spare change for a year, and gave it away anonymously to bless someone else's life. This idea is catching on with the many people who read this New York Times best selling book.
As I look around I see many people who could use a handup, not a handout. Some have lost their jobs, some have lost their homes, some have health problems, or business problems. I know of a family moving here from Russia with many needs. Another family was burned out of their home.
Local charities collect toys for poor children. The newspaper prints a column of People-in-Need. You can donate food to Walk and Knock. We collect new baseball hats and make fleece laprobes for the Veterans' Hospital. A pregnancy clinic is trying to raise money to buy an ultra-sound machine so young girls can see their babies before they decide to abort them. There are orphanages throughout the world, and victims of various disasters. One group makes small loans to women in India so they can start home-based businesses.
Look around you. What is within your ability to provide comfort or assistance? What about those widows? I can think of half-a-dozen who would appreciate a couple of roses or carnations tied with a holiday ribbon. You can bake Christmas cookies and leave a plate full on a doorstep, or hand them to a neighbor as you sing We Wish You a Merry Christmas. You can surprise a person with 12 Days of Christmas treats or trinkets. If you are in a snowy place there are elderly people who would love to have their sidewalks shoveled so they can walk out to their mailboxes without falling on ice.
If you save loose change, why not dedicate it to filling someone else's need this Christmas season? or, at least start a jar for next year. The more you do, the happier you will be!
As I look around I see many people who could use a handup, not a handout. Some have lost their jobs, some have lost their homes, some have health problems, or business problems. I know of a family moving here from Russia with many needs. Another family was burned out of their home.
Local charities collect toys for poor children. The newspaper prints a column of People-in-Need. You can donate food to Walk and Knock. We collect new baseball hats and make fleece laprobes for the Veterans' Hospital. A pregnancy clinic is trying to raise money to buy an ultra-sound machine so young girls can see their babies before they decide to abort them. There are orphanages throughout the world, and victims of various disasters. One group makes small loans to women in India so they can start home-based businesses.
Look around you. What is within your ability to provide comfort or assistance? What about those widows? I can think of half-a-dozen who would appreciate a couple of roses or carnations tied with a holiday ribbon. You can bake Christmas cookies and leave a plate full on a doorstep, or hand them to a neighbor as you sing We Wish You a Merry Christmas. You can surprise a person with 12 Days of Christmas treats or trinkets. If you are in a snowy place there are elderly people who would love to have their sidewalks shoveled so they can walk out to their mailboxes without falling on ice.
If you save loose change, why not dedicate it to filling someone else's need this Christmas season? or, at least start a jar for next year. The more you do, the happier you will be!
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Happy Halloween!
Nathan came over today and helped Grandma Lois frost cupcakes for Grandpa Merle's Cub Scout Group. They went to see a program at WSUV presented by the Bat Lady. She had a real bat. Now Nathan wants Grandpa Merle to make him a bat house!
Friday, October 30, 2009
Remembering Veterans' Day
November holidays remind me of the many blessings I have to feel grateful for. I love the brilliant colors of autumn from the reds, oranges, yellows and greens of the sugar maple trees to the vibrant rust and gold chrysanthemums my dad used to raise. I'm also thankful for red-white-and-blue, the stars and stripes of our nation;'s flag. It symbolizes all we hold precious and dear.
It was a Sunday evening when I came into the house from roller-skating. I was six years old and wondered why both of my parents were huddled up next to our big floor model Philco radio. They shushed me and we listened to President Franklin D, Roosevelt talking about the bombing of Pearl Harbor that morning. It meant our country was at war.
I recall the books of rationing stamps our family was allotted. They were for gasoline, rubber tires, sugar, meat and butter. When mom bought a pound of oleomargarine it came in a white block that had to be dumped into a big mixing bowl. Then mom would break open a capsule of dark yellow coloring and have to stir it a lot until it was evenly mixed to a yellow mass which we could put on our toast instead of butter.
Once or twice we had to practice air raids. We had to cover all our windows with black fabric or turn off all the lights. We sat in the dark until the all-clear siren sounded.
I remember walking down Browning Avenue, where we lived in Salt Lake, and noticing that several homes displayed a star on a dark blue background, either white for a living serviceman or gold for one who had died in the war.
Portland was a very busy city when we moved there. Many families had moved from the midwest to work in the shipyards. There was one in St. Johns, one on Swan Island and one or more in Vancouver. They lived in little defense homes that had been hurriedly constructed. All the buses going to the shipyards were filled to capacity, people standing shoulder to shoulder.
My Portsmouth Grade School became the most populated school in the state. We attended classes in shifts; either seven am to noon or one to five pm. We were on daylight saving time all year round, so I walked to school on dark, rainy mornings during the winter, but I wasn't afraid.
I collected newspapers and tin cans to help the war effort (for recycling), and bought a 10-cent Victory stamp each week. I pasted the stamps into a book and when it was filled I turned it in for a U.S. Savings bond.
We lived across from Swan Island up on the bluff which provided us with a perfect view for watching the ships being launched, usually about one a week. For daytime launches a string of brightly colored pennants was strung from the bow to the highest point in the middle of the ship and then back down to the stern. The night launches were decorated with colored lights, sort of like the outdoor Christmas lights of that time.
I remember hearing my dad tell how people of Portland were dancing in the streets and kissing complete strangers when the war was over. I knew it was almost over in June of 1945. I was given a new balloon-tired bicycle for my 10th birthday on June 4th. My parents said that the factories had stopped making war materials and had switched to peacetime manufacturing.
My dad was too old to be drafted inWorld War II but his brother Clifton was a Chief Petty Officer in the Navy, and my mom's brother, Ken, served in the Canadian Air Force. My husband was about to be drafted when he enlisted in the Army near the end of the Korean War, and my brother Jerry served in Vietnam. I am glad that my five sons have not had to serve in the military and I hope none of my grandsons have to either. But, if they do it should be for the right reasons--to protect our homes, families and freedoms.
As I lay down at night I give thanks that I live in a peaceful part of this world. I hope the people of our country will find ways this Veterans' Day to thank a military person for their service to our country, especially those in veterans hospitals who have sacrificed parts of themselves to protect all of us.
It was a Sunday evening when I came into the house from roller-skating. I was six years old and wondered why both of my parents were huddled up next to our big floor model Philco radio. They shushed me and we listened to President Franklin D, Roosevelt talking about the bombing of Pearl Harbor that morning. It meant our country was at war.
I recall the books of rationing stamps our family was allotted. They were for gasoline, rubber tires, sugar, meat and butter. When mom bought a pound of oleomargarine it came in a white block that had to be dumped into a big mixing bowl. Then mom would break open a capsule of dark yellow coloring and have to stir it a lot until it was evenly mixed to a yellow mass which we could put on our toast instead of butter.
Once or twice we had to practice air raids. We had to cover all our windows with black fabric or turn off all the lights. We sat in the dark until the all-clear siren sounded.
I remember walking down Browning Avenue, where we lived in Salt Lake, and noticing that several homes displayed a star on a dark blue background, either white for a living serviceman or gold for one who had died in the war.
Portland was a very busy city when we moved there. Many families had moved from the midwest to work in the shipyards. There was one in St. Johns, one on Swan Island and one or more in Vancouver. They lived in little defense homes that had been hurriedly constructed. All the buses going to the shipyards were filled to capacity, people standing shoulder to shoulder.
My Portsmouth Grade School became the most populated school in the state. We attended classes in shifts; either seven am to noon or one to five pm. We were on daylight saving time all year round, so I walked to school on dark, rainy mornings during the winter, but I wasn't afraid.
I collected newspapers and tin cans to help the war effort (for recycling), and bought a 10-cent Victory stamp each week. I pasted the stamps into a book and when it was filled I turned it in for a U.S. Savings bond.
We lived across from Swan Island up on the bluff which provided us with a perfect view for watching the ships being launched, usually about one a week. For daytime launches a string of brightly colored pennants was strung from the bow to the highest point in the middle of the ship and then back down to the stern. The night launches were decorated with colored lights, sort of like the outdoor Christmas lights of that time.
I remember hearing my dad tell how people of Portland were dancing in the streets and kissing complete strangers when the war was over. I knew it was almost over in June of 1945. I was given a new balloon-tired bicycle for my 10th birthday on June 4th. My parents said that the factories had stopped making war materials and had switched to peacetime manufacturing.
My dad was too old to be drafted inWorld War II but his brother Clifton was a Chief Petty Officer in the Navy, and my mom's brother, Ken, served in the Canadian Air Force. My husband was about to be drafted when he enlisted in the Army near the end of the Korean War, and my brother Jerry served in Vietnam. I am glad that my five sons have not had to serve in the military and I hope none of my grandsons have to either. But, if they do it should be for the right reasons--to protect our homes, families and freedoms.
As I lay down at night I give thanks that I live in a peaceful part of this world. I hope the people of our country will find ways this Veterans' Day to thank a military person for their service to our country, especially those in veterans hospitals who have sacrificed parts of themselves to protect all of us.
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