To Those Who Came Before Me

To Those Who Came Before Me

I’ve always been interested in the stories of the American pioneer, those hardy souls who hitched up bootstraps and crossed the plains. Okay, I’ve never been really clear on what a bootstrap is, exactly, but still, the idea of a whole  body of faithful people leaving all and sundry behind and striking out to a new land, warms my heart. As a child, I lapped up pioneer stories; I still do. 

Brigham Young said something to the effect of the land in the West being so inhospitable, no one else would want it, so it’s ideal for the saints of God. Not exactly self-esteem food, yet off they went.

I have driven their route in my soft, air-conditioned car with a speedometer that may or may not have stuck to the posted limits. Nebraska is mighty long, after all. I’ve seen the ruts left by pioneer wagons, ground in the rocks in eastern Oregon. As I marveled at the ruts, a herd of vicious no-see-ums feasted on my exposed skin. As if heat, dust, fatigue, insufficient food and water, and endless walking wasn’t enough to try their souls, nasty little insects with teeth added to the experience.  

Two of my grown kids live with their families in the wilds of modern Utah. I spent two weeks visiting them in July, and my take away is this: those early pioneers were tough people! They arrived in the valley of the Great Salt Lake in July, the same time as my visit, give or take a few days. It was hot, very, very hot there, and drier than your average desert. I found myself sucking down water bottles and wondering how long a tray of cookie dough would take to bake if left in the rear window of my car.

At the Independence Day parade, a bank thermometer read 110 degrees. I’m from western Washington, and I’m pretty sure our local banks only have two digits on their thermometers; a temp of over 80 triggers Extreme Heat Warnings in the local media. 110 here...? People would die, outright.

Even with shade, a spray bottle, and a giant Slurpee, I nearly melted into a greasy spot on the pavement. The most popular floats on the parade route were the ones that sprayed the crowd with high-powered water guns. 

And I thought about those early pioneers. They were tough people, I tell you!  I was uncomfortable, just sitting around...Imagine having to build a house and plant a crop in that heat, after a 1000 mile hike? Yet, if they collapsed under a scrawny tree, there’d be no food for the winter or protection from Utah’s harsh winters just a few months down the road. We think of them being tough, invincible people, leaders all. In reality, they were mostly city-folk who suffered from culture shock --imagine, downtown London to Missouri?--who wore preposterously small shoes, if they had any at all. And the dresses! Sociologists say a more impractical outfit could not have been designed for a trek of that magnitude. Yet they pioneered on. 

We're all pioneering in our own ways, but  I honor those who went ahead of us, laying the path! We owe them a debt of gratitude bigger than the wide prairie sky.

In Church recently, the choir sang a song I hadn’t heard before. It’s beautiful!*

To Those Who Came Before Me

To those who came before me in seasons long ago
To those who are the loved-ones that I have yet to know
To those whose noble names I bear,
whose light within me burns
To them in gratitude shall my heart be turned

To those whose lives of courage prepared the way for me
Whose works became my heritage,
whose harvest I may reap
Who left for me a legacy that I have yet to earn
To them in gratitude shall my heart be turned

To those who came before me in days and years long past
To those who are the family that I shall know at last
To those who seek the blessings
of the truth that I have learned
To them in gratitude shall my heart be turned

* http://www.defordmusic.com/sheet-music/alphabetical-list/to-those-who-came-before-me/

Gratitude and Tender Mercies

By Kari Diane Pike

I have never been so grateful to be assigned to speak in church. Sounds crazy, right?!

My previous "every other Thursday" post made mention of how our bishopric called Doug and I while we were out of town and asked us to speak in Sacrament meeting - the Sunday we had planned on driving back to Arizona. I think we took about two seconds to move our travel plans up a day and agree to share some thoughts on the topic of gratitude. I've always felt strongly about supporting and sustaining our church leaders, whom I know are called to their positions by inspiration from Heavenly Father. I had no idea we would be showered with so many tender mercies and blessings of protection as a result of that simple choice.

Had we waited until Sunday to leave Provo, we would have been caught in a terrible snow storm. No snow tires and pulling a trailer in that kind of weather would have been horrendous. Saturday we had sunshine and fluffy clouds from dawn to sunset. Doug and I listened to General Conference messages (when we could get cell service) and scriptures about gratitude and discussed which aspects of gratitude each of us would include in our talks.

An hour or so after we passed through Las Vegas, the Durango's speedometer waggled back and forth, or sometimes quite working all together. At the time, we were in the middle of nowhere because we had decided to avoid the mountains to get through Kingman, Arizona and took the long route over to California and down to I-10. We pulled over a couple of times to fuel up or get something to eat and each time we started back on our journey everything worked again. Until we reached Tonopah.

An hour past sunset and just a little over eighty-four miles from home, Doug checked his rear view mirror. The lights of the car pulling up behind us revealed smoke billowing up from under our car. Doug pulled to the side of the road as quickly as he could. Holiday traffic roared past us as Doug checked under the hood and then walked around the car and trailer. He couldn't see anything wrong. We didn't see smoke any more, but the acrid smell of burning oil seeped into the car and turned my stomach.

Doug got back in the car and pulled on to the freeway. The smoke returned almost immediately. That's when we spotted the first gas station we had seen for miles and miles. And it was only about two hundred yards off the freeway. Doug drove into the parking lot and found a place where our vehicle and trailer would be out of the way. He pulled out his phone and called our insurance agent and a tow company. We both choked a little (or maybe a lot) when we heard an estimate of $600 - $800 dollars to tow us home, but somehow it didn't seem to matter. Even when the mechanic handed us the final tow bill of $1200, we shrugged our shoulders. Okay, to be completely honest, there may have been some gagging noises and a couple of Facebook rants, but neither of us felt overly upset about the situation.

Doug and I held hands as we watched the tow trucks pull away. When we turned to walk into the house, I looked up at my dear husband in amazement and grinned. "We were so focused on gratitude and recognizing all the tender mercies in this trip, we forgot to get into an argument!"

Doug laughed. We both knew that our past experiences with cars almost always resulted in some kind of disagreement. Fatigue, fear, and worries about money lead to shortened tempers and perceived offenses. But this time was different. It was different because our hearts and minds were focused on gratitude. Gratitude for not breaking down in the middle of nowhere without phone service or a safe place to park. Gratitude for the fact that even though there was smoke, there was no fire (We had burned up the rear differential so bad that the housing for the speedometer had completely melted down. Huh. No wonder the needle waggled!). Gratitude for having put aside emergency funds so that we were able to pay for the tow. Gratitude for lovely weather. And most of all, gratitude for each other.

Needless to say, we had plenty to share when we spoke in church the next day. I find it interesting that in seminary we also happened to be studying John, chapter 9, which teaches us that God can use our adversities to show forth His works and His power. And, as we exercise faith in Jesus Christ, our spiritual vision and understanding become clearer. All of these things together gave me a greater understanding of another challenge that had been plaguing me and another aspect of gratitude to share in my talk.

For the past year, I have struggled with the loss of my voice. About a year ago, I had to quit singing because of the pain it caused, not only to my throat, but to ears of those who had to listen. Even talking takes a tremendous amount of energy. For a long time I felt cheated. I also felt like my worth as a person had diminished. But this lesson in gratitude enlightened my mind and changed my heart. I remembered that as a daughter of God, my worth is inherent. Even though I will always be an "unprofitable servant", I can always be a recipient of the Savior's mercy and grace because He loves me. He knows my heart. My worth doesn't come from my abilities, but from my Father in Heaven. He created me.

After our church services ended, an elderly gentleman reached out to me and shook my hand. With tears in his eyes, he thanked me for sharing my loss and how I learned to find gratitude. He had been struggling with his own losses because of a brain tumor and he hadn't been able to understand why he had lost so much. Because I was able to share my experience he found the peace he had been seeking. Oh, how I love being a witness to how Heavenly Father used my adversity to help someone else. He truly knows us by name and knows our every need. He hears and answers prayers and sometimes we get to be part of that answer.

Life is magnificent. Share the Light!

Hugs~

Happy Thanksgiving!

by Kari Diane Pike

Happy Thanksgiving! As a neighbor pointed out the other day, this is a day of giving thanks, and a day for giving. What are you thankful for? What are willing to give and to whom will you give?

Dear Hubby and I are hanging out in Utah for this Thanksgiving holiday. Two of our nieces chose this week to marry their sweethearts for time and all eternity. So bonus: We get to spend time with many different branches of our family all in the same week. Extra bonus: The most beautiful snow fall I have seen in many years. Great big, downy flakes drifted to the ground, piling up almost four inches in the three or so hours we spent preparing dinner and pie crusts and sipping hot chocolate and playing Five Crowns. Of course we had to step outside and celebrate...and take a picture. We even had enough on the ground to make snow angels.

I have been pondering on the virtue of gratitude lately, and not just because dear hubby answered a phone call from a member of the bishopric asking us to speak in church this coming Sunday on the topic of gratitude. To me, gratitude is a virtue that leads to the development of all the other virtues. Gratitude has taught me how to recognize trials as blessings all wrapped up in paper and string. Gratitude teaches me how to forgive as I recognize the role others have played in my life to teach me humility, patience, and charity - and who open my eyes to understanding and seeing that we are all children of a Heavenly Father who loves us and who wants all of us to return to live with Him someday.

I shared this quote a couple of years ago. I still love it:

 It is easy to be grateful for things when life seems to be going our way. But what then of those times when what we wish for seems to be far out of reach? Could I suggest that we see gratitude as a disposition, a way of life that stands independent of our current situation? In other words, I’m suggesting that instead of being thankful for things, we focus on being thankful in our circumstances—whatever they may be.
—Dieter F. Uchtdorf, "Grateful in Any Circumstances

Life is magnificent!
hugs~  

Acrostic Poems and Gratitude

Photo attribution: Pexels.com

My friend Mary introduced us to poetry at our last Chapter Meeting (and at the NW Retreat, if you were there).  One of the types she introduced were acrostic.  Which, for me, is almost do-able. In an effort to broaden my horizons, and to celebrate one of my favorite times of year, I've written a few to share.  Happy Thanksgiving!







Thoughtful teachers who challenge my children
Hot cocoa on a cold winter night
ANWA sisters and brothers to lift me up
No more political posts!!
Kneeling to converse with my Father in Heaven
Friends who offer undying support
Unadulterated love from my family
Laughter until my stomach hurts

                     
 ***

Turkey until I'm bursting at the seams
Holiday cheer fills the air
Apple cider warms the tummy
November frost nipping at our noses
Knee-deep in mashed potatoes
Sweet and savory delights makes mouths water
Gratitude is the attitude
Introducing young ones to Thanksgiving parades
Victory dance after football games
Icicles dripping to puddles in the snow
Not quite Christmas
Grateful for my abundance

Spoons

     

SPOONS   by Deb Graham

A little boy, about age eight, stood on Testimony Day in our ward at Church. He said, "I've been trying to think of my blessings, and today I thought about spoons." He went on to talk about his deep gratitude for spoons, of all the overlooked things.

He said he was glad he could eat his breakfast cereal with a spoon before Church, "because it's hard to suck Cap'n Crunch and still keep my Sunday shirt clean."  He talked about playing in the sandbox with his little brothers on Saturday, and said spoons were just the right tool for tunneling under the castle. He liked the soup his mother made for dinner last night, and said, “good thing I had a spoon, or those noodles could have gone right in my lap."  Spoons, he said, were the best thing ever for eating ice cream. “Just think of how much you'd miss if you had to use a fork, or chopsticks!"

 People in the congregation were chuckling by now, but it set me to thinking. I've never been thankful for spoons. I've hardly even given thought to spoons at all! 

Historically, I know forks were important. The Pilgrims only had a knife and a deep wooden spoon to eat with; forks were harder to make, thus more expensive and rare, and ownership of more than one or two was even considered a sign of pridefulness. Often only one fork was available per household, used by the cook for turning over dinner in the pot. And of course knives are essential; if people didn't have knives to eat with, manners would be out the window, along with the Flintstone-sized bones after dinner. No dainty bites for you! But spoons... hhmmm...

      I paid extra attention to spoons the whole next day. I used two for breakfast (I don't like hot cocoa in my Frosted Flakes). I used another two to make Et Cetera soup for lunch; a wooden one to stir, a smaller metal one to spoon leftover rice and vegetables into the pot. Oh, wait; I also ate the soup; that's three. I made Killer Chocolate cookies later on that day. Let's see; I used one spoon to pack the brown sugar, a measuring spoon, a wooden spoon to stir the chocolate chips in, and two teaspoons to drop the dough on the pans. I finished painting the philodendron vines on the wall by the laundry room, and used a plastic spoon to stir the paint. Repotting my teacup orchid required another plastic spoon. I cooked dinner, using two wooden spoons in the preparing, and a large spoon and a slotted spoon for serving, plus I set the table, one spoon at each place setting. I polished off the last of the lemon pudding before bed; that was the fluted spoon that I like best. That's nineteen different spoons---in one ordinary day!

          I'm a lot more aware of spoons in my life, but what other tiny everyday items do we overlook, things that make our lives so much better? Toothbrushes, erasers, tissues, buttons, soap? Think about it, next time you pick up a spoon, and in this season of Thanksgiving, count your blessings!