At the first of the summer, I challenged my family to read the Book of Mormon cover to cover before reading any other books.
Well, the bishop did it.
I just finished 2 Nephi because I caved in and read lots of other books along the way. Nevertheless, I have found some treasures I want to remember:
2 Nephi 11:3--Nephi writes how his brother Jacob has seen his Redeemer, as he has. At this point in the record, Nephi has been writing the words of Isaiah, who also "saw the Redeemer" (vs. 2). Nephi explains that "by the words of three . . . I will establish my word" (vs. 3). In the preface to the Book of Mormon we read that the book is to convince "the Jew and the Gentile that Jesus is the Christ." Here we clearly have three eye-witness accounts that testify of Christ, from Jerusalem to the Americas. From Old Testament times to Book of Mormon times.
In two short verses, Nephi explains this principle and then proves it, almost nonchalantly. To me he's saying, "You can trust me." He's not pontificating or leading us along. How convincing would three eye witnesses be in a court of law? And how many more are there in the book to come?
Monday, August 31, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
The Bishop Goes to Camp
For four years, our summers have been busy with camp---Girl's Camp, Priest Camp, Youth Conference, Ward Camp-out, Oakcrest Camp for First Years, and so on. The bishop has a perfect attendance record. Therefore, if entrance into heaven is based on attendance, we will slide into heaven like home at a baseball game.
Along the way we have learned:
Girls at Camp cry more than boys at Camp. Ten times more.
Girl's camp leaders cry more than boy leaders. Twenty times more. And hug everyone in sight after testimony meeting.
Girl's camp leaders will challenge the bishop to a "chubby bunny contest" to see who can fill their mouth with the most marshmallows while chanting, "chubby bunny." Note: the bishop won 20-12, but he used mini marshmallows.
Girl's camp leaders not only plan but color coordinate meal plans, craft activities, table cloths, transportation arrangments, and matching T-shirts. (I present the picture above as Defense Exhibit A).
Boy's camp leaders will occasionally count to see if all the boys made it home.
After being away from home for a week, first year girls run up and embrace the bishop and his wife when they arrive at camp with the same excitement our three-year-old used to show when we came home from a trip. And they look more beautiful than ever with their dirty faces and muddy tennis shoes.
Even at Ward Camp-outs, when dirt and bugs are prevalent, women compete with their food offerings. And downplay their efforts: "I didn't have time to make anything fancy as I was busy with five batches of laundry and ten piano students," they protest, as they place fruit salad served in a watermelon cut out in a whale shape filled with perfectly-formed melon balls and pineapple and kiwi stars. To quote Shakespeare: "I think she doth protest too much." (I should know which play that comes from, but don't ask).
The Bishop and his girls boogie at the Beach
The bishop and I are not raising beach bums. Two and half days in sunny San Diego, lying on the beach, listening to the soothing surf, expecting nothing from our children and what do we hear?
"There is sand in my sandwich."
"This sand between my flip-flops and feet and everything else is quite exfoliating."
"I have a rash."
"The seats on this sailboat are not very soft."
"Our sailboat is tipping!" (This was heard 15 feet from shore). We explained we would entertain complaints only if thrown from the boat, AND if the bishop and I made no efforts to save said complainer.
"There should be a mandatory cut-off age for wearing bikinis---nobody after 30."
"My swimsuit is still wet."
"We need to get 70 level sunscreen. Several bottles, in fact."
Thirty-five dollars spent on sunscreen later, we realized these are not children meant to hang at the beach for long periods of time. However, we also heard and saw:
"This is the most fun we've had together for years," as daughters and dad played for hours in the waves, riding boogie boards into shore. Who knew the bishop could boogie at the beach?
"Go BYU!" from early morning joggers in reference to the bishop's faded BYU T-shirt as we strolled along the beach together. (We were the best dressed at the beach because we were the only ones "dressed" at the beach, unless you count tattoos as apparel. If you put all the dark spots on one woman together, I think it would spell MELANOMA!)
"Can there be a better place to eat a burger than watching the sunset slide into the ocean?"
Fireworks exploding into the sky from the deck of a tri-level Mississippi River paddle boat.
A pod of dolphins leaping in groups of two and three about 50 yards from shore along the Coronado Peninsula.
The hauntingly beautiful music of South America---Paraguay, Colombia, Argentina---as we ate authentic tacos from a vendor in Old Town. Muy caliente!
Some of that exfoliating sand stubbornly clings to the sole of my tennis shoes. As I write this morning in a house loud in silence, empty of children and husband gone back to school and work, I hope the images of my family together clings to the empty spaces in my heart.
"There is sand in my sandwich."
"This sand between my flip-flops and feet and everything else is quite exfoliating."
"I have a rash."
"The seats on this sailboat are not very soft."
"Our sailboat is tipping!" (This was heard 15 feet from shore). We explained we would entertain complaints only if thrown from the boat, AND if the bishop and I made no efforts to save said complainer.
"There should be a mandatory cut-off age for wearing bikinis---nobody after 30."
"My swimsuit is still wet."
"We need to get 70 level sunscreen. Several bottles, in fact."
Thirty-five dollars spent on sunscreen later, we realized these are not children meant to hang at the beach for long periods of time. However, we also heard and saw:
"This is the most fun we've had together for years," as daughters and dad played for hours in the waves, riding boogie boards into shore. Who knew the bishop could boogie at the beach?
"Go BYU!" from early morning joggers in reference to the bishop's faded BYU T-shirt as we strolled along the beach together. (We were the best dressed at the beach because we were the only ones "dressed" at the beach, unless you count tattoos as apparel. If you put all the dark spots on one woman together, I think it would spell MELANOMA!)
"Can there be a better place to eat a burger than watching the sunset slide into the ocean?"
Fireworks exploding into the sky from the deck of a tri-level Mississippi River paddle boat.
A pod of dolphins leaping in groups of two and three about 50 yards from shore along the Coronado Peninsula.
The hauntingly beautiful music of South America---Paraguay, Colombia, Argentina---as we ate authentic tacos from a vendor in Old Town. Muy caliente!
Some of that exfoliating sand stubbornly clings to the sole of my tennis shoes. As I write this morning in a house loud in silence, empty of children and husband gone back to school and work, I hope the images of my family together clings to the empty spaces in my heart.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
The Bishop's Secret Love
What is pictured on the bishop's cell phone? His six-foot high tomato plants. What gets him up early in the morning? The thought of carefully nourishing his plants with water and who knows what else. What is the first thing he shows guests? Where is the first place he goes when he comes home from work? The garden. Should the bishop's wife be jealous of the bishop's garden? If only she got this much devotion and love.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Wake up Calls
I awoke this morning to a female voice calling softly, "Help me!" It was a bit disconcerting. I searched the house and couldn't find any problems with my daughters. Last night I stayed up late working on family history and got up at 5:00 a.m. this morning to do more but didn't find anything I could complete today. I am going today to the temple with my daughters to have some of my female ancestors' work done. Then I went back to bed and an hour later woke up to the cry. As I sat on the couch and tried to be still, a name came into my mind: Ane Kirstine. I went back to the computer and searched for several hours and I now have enough proof of who she is. She is the niece of the ancestor I have worked on for so long: Kirsten Hansen, mother of 15 children. Every time I think I have done everything I can for Kirsten, I find more. None of Ane's work is completed, but I now have her name ready to take to the temple. She was born in 1830, the year of the restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I guess waiting 179 years is long enough.
Another wake up call I received was on Monday at the funeral of a woman in our neighborhood who lived to be 100. The bishop had been her friend for years and now presided at her funeral. She told him she wanted to live to 120. She also always told him that he was married to the prettiest woman in the ward! I knew it wasn't true and that her eyesight was dimming with her advanced age, but I will miss hearing that from her. From everything I could see, she faithfully endured to the end. And it wasn't an easy life. Her husband died 3 years after their marriage and she raised two children alone working as a seamstress. She never remarried. At the funeral, it was mostly family. My wake-up call was this: family is everything.
Another wake up call I received was on Monday at the funeral of a woman in our neighborhood who lived to be 100. The bishop had been her friend for years and now presided at her funeral. She told him she wanted to live to 120. She also always told him that he was married to the prettiest woman in the ward! I knew it wasn't true and that her eyesight was dimming with her advanced age, but I will miss hearing that from her. From everything I could see, she faithfully endured to the end. And it wasn't an easy life. Her husband died 3 years after their marriage and she raised two children alone working as a seamstress. She never remarried. At the funeral, it was mostly family. My wake-up call was this: family is everything.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Family Float/Survival Trip Down the Provo
Usually, floating the Provo River is mild, cool, and somewhat boring. Not this Pioneer Day, 2009. Due to a much wetter than usual spring, the river was running fast and cold. We've done it before, we said. How dangerous can it be? The girls and the bishop wore flip flops. The geologist/hiker in the group brought water shoes and bandaids and a spare pair for me. The bishop lost his flip flops purchased in Hawaii 20 years ago on the first curve (they had fluorescent lizards on them.) We are glad we didn't lose anything more important, like one of our children.
It was my idea. It will be relaxing, I said. It will cool us off. The bishop said, "Didn't two people drown in the Provo this year?" We came out of the water with contusions, bleeding shins, and lacerated feet. While in the water, we were too numb to feel the pain.
Instead of paying for a $10 rental and shuttle, we picked our own spot, purchased 3 tires at Discount Tire for $6.95 and took a leaky raft.
One day I will learn to listen to the bishop.
It was my idea. It will be relaxing, I said. It will cool us off. The bishop said, "Didn't two people drown in the Provo this year?" We came out of the water with contusions, bleeding shins, and lacerated feet. While in the water, we were too numb to feel the pain.
Instead of paying for a $10 rental and shuttle, we picked our own spot, purchased 3 tires at Discount Tire for $6.95 and took a leaky raft.
One day I will learn to listen to the bishop.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Anthills, and Antelope, and Arid Desert, Oh My!
Not a tree in sight! There were ant hills, the size of a miniature pyramid, and antelope and some type of weed that left scratchy stickers (about 50 in my long pioneer skirt alone) but no trees. Hot, dusty, and bone-jarring. Pioneer bonnets and hats were not optional, you had to put it on to get away from the sun. But while you were lying on the cold, hard dirt at night, your thighs throbbing from the eight mile trek in, you couldn't possibly sleep so you had plenty of time to see a sensational star-studded sky, uninterrupted in its beauty by city lights and structures. And the rise of a crescent moon so diaphanous and ethereal, you felt God must have placed it there himself.
Why do we dress as dead people and walk miles to nowhere and turn around and go back again? This is what one of the youth asked at the testimony meeting. I began to understand by watching the faces of the young people pulling the handcarts. They were assigned a new "family" without the comfort of friends and without the baggage of who they might have been. Instead, they must learn to work together and work hard to get their handcart to camp and back. It is physically demanding, and the boys seem to become more mature, more sensitive to how hard it is for girls, more undestanding of what they can do. They realize that they are children of God and they can do hard things, just like the pioneers. After all, their lives will be tougher in spiritual ways than the pioneers.
In fact, as I walked with a wife of the stake presidency she said the pioneers had it easy in some ways. "They had all their children together every night for dinner around the campfire. No distractions like TV, cell phones, Internet, never ending schedules."
Why do we dress as dead people and walk miles to nowhere and turn around and go back again? This is what one of the youth asked at the testimony meeting. I began to understand by watching the faces of the young people pulling the handcarts. They were assigned a new "family" without the comfort of friends and without the baggage of who they might have been. Instead, they must learn to work together and work hard to get their handcart to camp and back. It is physically demanding, and the boys seem to become more mature, more sensitive to how hard it is for girls, more undestanding of what they can do. They realize that they are children of God and they can do hard things, just like the pioneers. After all, their lives will be tougher in spiritual ways than the pioneers.
In fact, as I walked with a wife of the stake presidency she said the pioneers had it easy in some ways. "They had all their children together every night for dinner around the campfire. No distractions like TV, cell phones, Internet, never ending schedules."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)