Highlight of the Month

This has been a rough month for me, but Easter weekend was wonderful and definitely the high point of April.

Several months ago, our dear friends, the Marsdens, suggested we attend the Carl Bloch exhibit at the BYU Museum of Art.  It opened the middle of November and closes May 17.  We agreed that we would love to see the exhibition so Marjie got online to find a Saturday we could obtain tickets.  She had to juggle both families' schedules, but was able to reserve tickets for 5:45 p.m. on Saturday, April 23.  Since the Ogden Temple closed on April 2 for the next three years, we decided we would also take in a temple session prior to our exhibit time.  We had our choice of Bountiful, Salt Lake, Oquirrh Hills, Draper, Timpanogos and Provo Temples on our drive down the freeway.  Since Rob and I had the previous week celebrated our 28th wedding anniversary, we thought it fitting that we should return to the Provo Temple where it all started.

In addition to these plans for the day before Easter, we also had the pleasure of having Kevin and Lindsey come and spend the weekend.  They came on Friday evening after meeting Lindsey's grandparents at Maddox for dinner.  Saturday morning they chose the menu for their wedding breakfast at the Copper Mill Restaurant in Logan and in the afternoon they were able to register at Target.  Afterwards,  they took a nap and colored eggs.

Meanwhile, Tim, Margie, Rob and I had a marvelous time in Provo.  The Carl Bloch Exhibit was amazing! He was an incredibly talented artist.  His work has such a profound spirit about it. We appreciate the reverence we felt as we walked through and viewed the paintings gathered from around the world for this exhibit.  I found it especially interesting how many of his paintings have been used in Church publications over the years and how familiar so many were to me.  The three photos I've posted are ones I had never seen before, but check out this article to view some of the other paintings: http://www.ldschurchnews.com/articles/60812/The-Masters-Hand-has-attracted-more-than-230000-visitors-to-BYU-exhibit.html

"Christ in Gethsemane," a painting on loan from
Sankt Hans Kirke, Odense, Denmark.

"Christus Consolator" is a painting in the exhibit on loan from
Sofia Albertina Kyrka, Landskrona, Sweden.

We decided this was our favorite Carl Bloch.  It is entitled:
"The Raising of Jarius' Daughter".
The angle isn't good for appreciating the real beauty of the painting.

Sunday was special with most of our family gathered together (we missed your Dani and Kelly!), we had a big dinner and basked in the final moments together before Kevin and Lindsey had to dash back to Logan to fulfill their calling as Ward Prayer Leaders.  Mostly we appreciated the reality of our Savior's power to overcome death and rise from the tomb.  How grateful I am for the conviction and assurance this brings into a life of uncertainty and challenge. 

Ode to a Hedge

Several prior posts in this blog have referenced my family’s move to an old house on Main Street when I was 16 years old.  The home had been a boarding house in the late 1800s when it was built and in fact, Camilla Eyring Kimball (before she married Spencer W.) lived there while she taught Home Economics at the Millard Academy.

At some point there was a fire at the old boarding house which completely consumed the upper story of the building.  The first floor was repaired and left as a single dwelling, but it was very strangely laid out.  It had stood empty for quite a number of years when my parents bought it for $1500 in 1978.

I can still recall the prevailing smell of stink bugs and mice droppings and the mess we had to clean up before we could start moving in. My Dad added two good-sized additions onto it, one was a kitchen.  When we moved in, we had to do the cooking in our camp trailer because the old kitchen had only a wood-burning cook stove.  

One of the most remarkable aspects of the old place was the giant front lawn and the 8-foot-high and 4-foot-deep hedge that grew around three edges of the property up to the sides of the home.

I was designated as the official hedge keeper.  My dad purchased an electric trimmer and several 100 foot cords.  I used a 7-foot step ladder and it would take me two entire days to trim that hedge.  Dad insisted it be done once a week during the growing season.

I always started on the southwest corner of the property and would work around the outside of the hedge on the first day.  I would start at the bottom working upwards, and then stand on the very top step of the ladder, reaching as far as I could; only attaining half of the top growth.  I worked around the outside perimeter on day 1 and the inside on day 2, conquering the other half of the top along with the inside surface.

It would be nearly dark on the second day as I finished raking up the mountain of trimmings, put away my equipment, and coiled up the cords.

The plus side of this job was how tanned I became from working outside in the summer sun; I was especially dark those years I perched on the top of a stepladder two full days a week.  Also, there was the social factor of the position.  Our home was right next to the store on Main Street, so I often had visitors stop to chat as they came and went from Morris Mercantile.

I returned home the summer after my freshman year at Utah State University and resumed my role as trimmer, but had to work it differently because I had a full-time job at Channel One, the satellite TV station.  That summer I had to work on the hedge in the evenings after work; I would start about 6:30 and work until dark each night.  As soon as I got completely around both sides of the monster, I would start over again.

Fall of 1981, I returned to USU with Thanksgiving as my first visit home.  Sometime before that, I received a letter from my friend, Lynette, telling me that my dad had taken his chainsaw and cut several feet of height from the hedge.  Going home equipped with this information, I was still shocked when I pulled up to our house and saw the hedge was only about half its previous height.  A year later Dad took another foot off the top of the hedge.  I always figured no one else in my family was able to spend 20 hours a week all summer on that yard chore.

My parents moved away from that house in 1986 leaving a stubby three-foot hedge around the house.  Two years ago when Camille and I went to Hinckley for the 24^th of July celebration, the hedge around that house was completely gone. It seemed so strange to be able to see the entire house and property from the street.  During my years as Hedge Keeper, our hedge had given the home such privacy and a sense of mystique and ambiguity shrouded behind the high, dense wall of leaves; with the front gate being the only entrance into the deep green and mysterious yard.  Looking back on that weekly duty for three summers of my life, I am grateful for the opportunity to have had an important task that allowed our house to have a unique look and feel of seclusion we cherished as Main Street dwellers.

Arizona Adventure

 Camille and I arrived in Cornville at about 7:30 p.m. on Saturday, March 26.  We pulled into Mom’s yard about 20 seconds before Mark, Nana and their three boys pulled in behind us from Los Angeles.  Jim and his two youngest children had been there the past few days doing some work on one of his properties.  Mom came out and greeted and invited us in.  My ears were roaring, my head throbbing and my hands shaking from the 12-hour drive.  We only stopped twice on the trip and made good time even though we traveled through a lot of wet and snowy weather.

Since Mom’s house if full of other people, who occupy all the rooms and every other space; (that's another story)Mark and Nana were staying in a hotel in Cottonwood while Camille and I were to stay with a family in  Mom's ward.  The Messicks were extremely hospitable and allowed us accommodations in their basement. After a brief visit at the house, Mom led us through the desert to the Messick's place and left us to settle in and sleep.

The next morning we woke up and got ready for church.  We enjoyed the meetings in the Mingus Ward.  The ward members adore my mother and many of them told me how much they love her.  It was a sweet experience.  That evening we went to another ward family’s home for dinner.  The Westovers have been friends of my parents and my younger brothers for 25 years.  What a delightful evening it was with good food and friends.  Camille and Jordan (the Westover’s youngest of 12 children and Camille’s age) went to a fireside at the ward and had a fun time.

Monday morning, we all met at Mom’s real estate office in Cottonwood where she went to work a couple of hours earlier.  Mark had made reservations for a Pink Jeep Tour of the Sedona Red Hills for the afternoon, we caravaned into Sedona, ate lunch at a local BBQ restaurant, then wandered through some gift shops on our way to the Jeep Tour place for our 1:00 departure.

The Pink Jeep Tour was a blast.  Our group of 11 had two jeeps and we got a geology, ecology, and biology lesson on the drive up the canyon.  We bumped and bounced over some pretty rough roads and trails and enjoyed all of it.  The little Shumways had fun throwing rocks over the cliff when we got to the top while the rest of us took in the magnificent views.  That evening, Jim treated us to a delicious Italian dinner at Nic’s in Old Town Cottonwood and we wished him a safe journey back home since he was leaving for Colorado with his children early the next morning.

Camille & Pink Javalinas at the Pink Jeep Office

Grandma Shumway, Mark, Nana and Boys buckling into seats in their Pink Jeep

The other jeep-full of Shumways

Climbing the red hills above Sedona, Arizona

At the top of the trail
Mom, Lilly, Jim, Nana, Eric, Mark, Georgia, Camille
front row: Avery, Max and Ethan

At the Drop Off Spot

Tuesday, Mark’s family and Camille and I again met at Mom’s office and we took the boys over to a local park.  We bought deli sandwiches and relaxed until about 12:30, then Cami and I took off for Phoenix to 80+ degree weather and the outlet mall while the rest of the group went to Jerome to check out the old mining town and fun shops.  Later, Mark kept the boys while us girls (Camille, Nana and I) accompanied Mom to the Mingus Ward Relief Society Birthday Social.  It was a fun evening.

The Phoenix Outlet Mall

Wednesday morning, Mark and I were at Mom’s house to meet a plumber who was scheduled to look at the septic tank situation.  Unfortunately, the plumber wasn’t very helpful with the problem, but we all decided to do some cleanup around Mom’s yard while we were there and she was off at work.  We got permission from the fire marshal to build a bon fire to get rid of a bunch of yard waste that had been gathered during the winter.  We also raked, pruned and cleaned up a bunch of other stuff which kept two fires roaring for several hours.  We were all sunburned and smoky by the time we completed that task, but we were kept entertained the whole time by Eric, Ethan and Avery finding fuel for the fire interspersed with Nerf Gun wars.

Late that afternoon, Jordan Westover came and picked Camille up for a date.  Mom brought home KFC for dinner for the rest of us and I hung out with the family after packing and cleaning our space at the Messick’s and thanking them for allowing us to stay at their home.

Feeling a little toasted after bonfires in the Arizona sun

After Cami's date, we started out on our all-night drive.  She kept me entertained with stories and songs for about 9 hours across the Kiabab and well into Utah, but she started dozing off about Cedar City so we pulled off the freeway and slept in the car for about an hour at Cove Fort.  Those last three hours were grueling, especially when we hit morning rush hour traffic in Provo/Orem and Salt Lake, but we pulled into our driveway at 9:45 a.m. and while Cami got ready to go to school, I unpacked our things and started the laundry.  We both napped for a few hours that afternoon and after a great night’s sleep, it was back to a full-day schedule on Friday.

Thank you, Jim, Mark and Mom for making the trip so fun.  Camille and I are so grateful for the fun memories of spending time with you in Arizona.

Pensive

So many thoughts are tumbling around in my head that it is causing severe distraction.  I wish I had Dumbledore's Pensive; I would use it for thoughts instead of memories.  As a substitute Pensive, I will empty some of those many swirling feelings into my blog.

First, I want to announce that my oldest son, Kevin, is getting married!  Hooray!  We are so happy about this terrific news!  He is engaged to Lindsey Turner of Declo, Idaho and they are planning a June 28 Logan Temple Sealing.  That is my Mom’s birthday so it will be a doubly celebrated day.

Second, I want to tell Rob happy birthday tomorrow.  I'm sorry I won't be here to properly celebrate your special day.  You are such a great husband and father and I love you so much!  I hope your day is happy.

Next, I wish Kevin a happy 27th birthday on March 30.  It is so hard to believe that many years have passed since he was born.  Perhaps because of the vivid memories I have of that day—the weather (damp), what I was wearing (horrible hospital gown), where I was (Utah Valley Medical Center), how I felt (frantic), etc., it just doesn’t seem possible that it was that long ago.  Kevin is busy studying and working in Logan.  He is working on his Master’s degree in Instructional Technology at USU and works for the Alumni Association on campus.  Kevin is a tremendous young man and his Dad and I feel so blessed to have him as our son and we know he will be a fabulous husband to Lindsey.

I am sending these birthday wishes early because I’m heading off to Arizona in the morning to see my Mom and  brothers, Jim and Mark.  Mom lives out in the desert and doesn’t have wireless internet, so I’m thinking I’ll be off the grid for awhile.  I will miss reading blogs, Indexing, and checking my email and Facebook accounts, I’ll have to catch up when I get back.

That leads to another thing I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about—My brother, Mark and his family who have left their home in Japan and are living in a furnished apartment in Burbank, California.  Mark and Nana wanted to get their three boys as far away from the radiation and mayhem as they could, but are feeling very displaced.  Mark said he wouldn’t have believed he could miss the ‘routine’ so much.  I’m sure these have been difficult weeks for his family.  He goes to work at his company’s California office and leaves Nana with three boys to entertain.  I’ve worried and wondered about them.  I’ve offered to bring them back to Utah with me when I come home from Arizona, but their future is uncertain right now.  It will be so good to see them, look them in the eyes to assess how they are doing after all they’ve been through with earthquakes, aftershocks, tsunami, nuclear disasters, and a-no-end-in-sight evacuation.

Finally, I've been flashing back a year ago when Rob, Cami and I flew out to Baltimore, MD and spent the most amazing week with Dani and Kelly. I wish we were doing that again this month, but they will be out here in June for the wedding so we'll look forward to that visit.

Thank you for allowing me to unburden my twirling, shifting thoughts.  Perhaps looking at a few of them written down will allow me to focus on the important issues at hand...like getting packed...

Federal Offences

I believe the statue of limitations is now past so I can divulge details of a Federal Offence which occurred some years ago.

The entire time my family lived in Hinckley, our address was P.O. Box 119.  Box  number 119 was the very highest numbered box in the Hinckley Post Office.  The boxes were brass with combination locks with letters instead of numbers on the dials.  The old Hinckley Post Office was a tiny, wooden building painted red, white and blue which sat on the east side of Main Street.  Sometime since then, Hinckley has built a new, modern, brick building that now sits three blocks south and on the other side of the street from the old site.

During my childhood my Mother rarely went to the Post Office, she usually sent me or my brothers to collect our mail.  One summer day, probably right after Mark was born, Jim and I were sent on this errand and found ourselves at the Post Office during the lunch hour when the post master’s window was pulled down and no one was around.  We opened our box and then, I’m not sure why, we started trying to open some of the other 118 boxes.  We found out very quickly that if you turned the dial while pushing against the little release knob, you could feel when the combination ‘clicked’.  Within about 20 minutes, Jim and I had every single mailbox opened.  We had the rows of all 119 little, brass doors standing straight out and had just stepped back to admire our work when Mr. Hardy, the Post Master, returned from his lunch break.

I don’t think we realized that we had done something really bad, but it certainly was a big issue to Mr. Hardy (normally a very congenial and kind man).  He began to berate us mercilessly.  He yelled at us that no one except a certified mail carrier is allowed to handle the US mail and that it was a FEDERAL CRIME for anyone else to mess with it.  We pointed out we hadn’t touched a single letter; we had just opened the boxes.  He continued to rebuke and reprimand us while we stood silently and took his verbal abuse.

He made us close all the boxes, turn each dial, and then promise to never try that again.  Jim and I took our own mail and returned home with our heads hanging down.  You never saw such a pair of contrite federal offenders. 

After that, whenever I had to get the mail, I grabbed it quickly and dashed out of the post office.  My fingers itched to turn those other dials and open those boxes to show how easy it was, but I showed restraint and kept my promise and never opened another person’s mailbox again.

Perhaps next time you are in a post office, you can look at those wanted posters and if you flip back some years, you’ll come across an outdated page with 10- and 7-year-old faces of the federal mail criminals who broke into over a hundred mailboxes in their scandalous career one summer day in 1972.

Prom--Past and Present





WHS Prom 3-13-2011

Cami went to Prom last week.  Prom equals DRAMA in my mind.  For weeks it was a tangle of asking/answering, going/not going, tears/dry eyes, and dress shopping the weeks prior to Prom, but in the end she had a good time, went with a nice boy, has photographic evidence that she attended, and is still friends with the guy.  What more could you ask for?

DHS Junior Prom 1979

Going to Prom was a dramatic thing for me in 1979 at good ol' Delta High School.  Robin Lyman asked me to the dance early one morning by phone before I caught the bus to school.  It was awkward and I couldn't even look the poor guy in the eyes the weeks prior to the dance.  Somehow,  Robin and I are still friends.  We even ate at the same table at our 20th and 30th class reunions.
 

LGHS Junior Prom 1974



I don't know much about Rob's Los Gatos High School Junior Prom, but it must have been dramatic because he won't talk about it.  I know the first name of the girl is Annetta and that he hasn't seen or talked to her since shortly after he got back from his mission.

Thank goodness all these proms are now in the past.



Feeling Just a Little Blue

One year ago today--Wednesday March 10, 2010--Rob, Camille and I dropped Bryan at the curb of the Missionary Training Center to spend the next 13 weeks learning Hungarian before heading to Budapest.

Bryan worked HARD to learn this difficult language and had the additional responsibility of being a Zone Leader with his companion, Elder Smith.  They worked together to serve their zone and made many friends over those months.  Finally the big day came for the Hungarian Elders and Sisters who'd served their time to fly to Budapest and get this show on the road.

Elder Crouch loved and appreciated his trainer, Elder Cheney, almost from the first moment the met.  They worked well together and Bryan sent home such upbeat emails.

Needless to say, it was a complete shock to receive a phone call from Sister Baughman, the Mission President's wife, telling us that Bryan had been to an orthopedic in Budapest and was in terrible pain from bad knees.  They hoped to be able to send Bryan to Germany to do surgery and allow him to recover in the Mission Home.  After an MRI was performed; however, the physician said the recovery would be so long that they would have to send Bryan home and give him a Medical Release.

The ensuing months have been tough on our family as Bryan's knees continue to swell and ache.  He has followed all the instructions of the surgeon and physical therapist, but we are all anxious for a full and complete healing.  Unfortunately, with osteoarthritis the healing may never be full or complete.

So at this one-year-mark, what should be Bryan's "Hump Day", we are all feeling a bit blue.

For those of you who have sons and those of you who are happy that you don't...

This was emailed to me quite a few years ago and I liked it so much, I copied and saved it as a word document.  Tonight I was going through my computer files and deleting old and useless documents, but laughed so hard when I opened this and read it again.  My sons are grown up now, so I guess these days are over, well unless I have grandsons someday...

You find out interesting things when you have sons, like:


1.) A king size waterbed holds enough water to fill a 2000 sq. ft. house 4 inches deep.
2.) If you spray hair spray on dust bunnies and run over them with roller blades, they can ignite.
3.) A 3-year old Boy's voice is louder than 200 adults in a crowded restaurant.
4.) If you hook a dog leash over a ceiling fan, the motor is not strong enough to rotate a 42 pound Boy wearing Batman underwear and a Superman cape. It is strong enough, however, if tied to a paint can, to spread paint on all four walls of a 20x20 ft. room.
5.) You should not throw baseballs up when the ceiling fan is on. When using a ceiling fan as a bat, you have to throw the ball up a few times before you get a hit. A ceiling fan can hit a baseball a long way.
6.) The glass in windows (even double-pane) doesn't stop a baseball hit by a ceiling fan.
7.) When you hear the toilet flush and the words "uh oh", it's already too late.
8.) Brake fluid mixed with Clorox makes smoke, and lots of it.
9.) A six-year old Boy can start a fire with a flint rock even though a 36-year old Man says they can only do it in the movies.
10.) Certain Lego's will pass through the digestive tract of a 4-year old Boy.
11.) Play dough and microwave should not be used in the same sentence.
12.) Super glue is forever.
13.) No matter how much Jell-O you put in a swimming pool you still can't walk on water.
14.) Pool filters do not like Jell-O.
15.) VCR's do not eject "PB & J" sandwiches even though TV commercials show they do.
16.) Garbage bags do not make good parachutes.
17.) Marbles in gas tanks make lots of noise when driving.
18.) You probably DO NOT want to know what that odor is.
19.) Always look in the oven before you turn it on; plastic toys do not like ovens.
20.) The fire department in our hometown has a 5-minute response time.
21.) The spin cycle on the washing machine does not make earthworms dizzy.
22.) It will, however, make cats dizzy.
23.) Cats throw up twice their body weight when dizzy.
24.) 80% of Women will pass this on to almost all of their friends, with or without kids.
25.) 80% of Men who read this will try mixing the Clorox and brake fluid.

Raising Rabbits

The Easter I was seven years old, we went to Arizona to visit my Grandparents.  They had a gift for my brother, Jim and me: a pair of white rabbits.  They looked like the rabbits a magician would pull out of a hat; with long ears, pink eyes, and enormous hind feet. 

Jim and I always rode in the camper shell of Dad’s pickup on long trips.  The ride home was much more entertaining with those rabbits in their wire cage.  We had carrots, apples and lettuce leaves we were constantly poking through the bars.

My dad was forced to make a rabbit pen within a day or two of arriving home.  Once the bunnies were installed in their new home we thought we were set and all we had to do was feed and water them.  As it turned out, we had a male and female rabbit and the perception of rabbits breeding, well, like rabbits, turned out to be true.  It wasn’t long before the female had pulled out tufts of her own fur and lined a corner of the hutch and had a little, writhing batch of bunnies.  Newborn rabbits are not cute, but it doesn’t take them too long to become adorable.  My Mom made us take a bottle of vanilla extract out to the hutch and dab a little on the mama’s nose before we could hold her babies.  Jim, Mom and I all loved cuddling the baby bunnies.  Within weeks, the rabbit hutch was completely overflowing with fluffy, white rabbits and my dad started construction on more pens.

Dad made three more wooden boxes with chicken wire windows and floors, and then he made several more.  Each hutch he crafted became more sophisticated and more adapted to the needs of the animals and their keepers.  His creations had separate nesting sections that were completely enclosed with a piece of plywood with a round hole cute in it separating it from living area with the food and water containers. He had us fill the nesting boxes with clean straw.  Our buns loved their new homes and went right to work making more bunnies.

We sold quite a few of our rabbits advertising them at the IFA store in Delta.  My dad also slaughtered many of the young adults each spring, but I could never eat a bite of that meat.  I practically became a vegan while I lived in Hinckley with us raising and slaughtering our own meat.  I just couldn’t eat someone I had loved and named.

I remember Jim and I having to clean rabbit manure out of the hutches with a short-handled hoe.  We would have to nearly climb into the cage and pull the piles of poop pellets off of the wooden sections to fall through the wire flooring.  We would hold our breath while we were doing it because it was such a strong ammonia-smelling stuff.  It made our eyes water and was truly a miserable chore.

Another vibrant memory of the rabbits was when our cousin, Tammy Basham, came to live with us when she was five.  We gave her a beautiful tan and white rabbit of her own which she named Bunbun.  She would pick the tops of weeds and grass to feed Bunbun and Tammy would sit and hold her rabbit for hours.  One morning before school, Tammy went outside to check on her bunny while we were eating breakfast.  I still remember her crashing through the door shrieking, “Jojo ate Bunbun!”

A large black lab dog (named Jojo) was in the process of chewing up her bunny and spitting fur all over the place when Tammy came around the fence where the rabbit hutches sat.  It was extremely traumatizing for her to see her baby murdered like that.  Dad thought she must have left the cage door unlatched and Bunbun had pushed it open and allowed the dog to get to her.

Raising rabbits is not for the faint hearted.  It is smelly, physical and emotional work.  Occasionally I’ve thought I’d like to have rabbits again, but then I think about it some more and decide, “No, I really don’t”, but I wouldn't mind holding a baby bunny if anyone has one...

Tag, I'm It!

I was tagged by Sheri  This is a 4x4 blog meme that reveals some little facts about me!  It will be great fun getting to know my blogging buddies better.  So check at the bottom and if you're tagged, copy and paste this into your blog and insert your four favs in each of the four subject.

1st   Four places I go:
   -To Weber High School’s Track
   -Costco
   -Arizona to visit my Mom
   -To my computer to Index and update the Indexing Blog (every single day)
2nd   Four favorite smells:
  -Baking Bread
  -Freesia
   -Garden soil
   -Raspberries
3rd   Four favorite TV shows and/or movies
   -Pride and Prejudice
   -Sense and Sensibility
   -While You Were Sleeping
   -Dan in Real Life
4th   Four recommendations
   -Finish what you start
   -Avoid taking offense
   -Eat fiber every day
   -Always have at least one good book to read

and now I TAG:     Tina

                               Dani

                              Melissa

                               Nana 

your turn ladies--you're it!

Winter Willie (Handcart) Thoughts

For the last couple of years I've written a 'Winter Woes' blog post, but everyone knows how much I despise winter and I won't beleaguer readers with another winy post about cold, snow, and frost and how tired I am of being cooped up in the house instead of working in the yard.  I'm trying to focus on the positive aspects of having a winter season and the importance of it in my personal life.

A few years ago I read a book entitled Tell My Story, Too - A Collection of Biographical Sketches of Pioneers and Rescuers of the Willie, Martin, Hodgett, Hung Companies 1856.  There were so many compelling accounts of valiant pioneers who traveled across the US by handcart under extreme conditions.  So many faith-promoting stories of converts from Europe whose desire was to join with other saints in Zion.  So many in these companies died of the cold and starvation and those remaining were in terrible shape under the harsh conditions they had endured over the trek to Wyoming and for the many weeks they had been stranded there.  Brave liberators from Salt Lake made their way across the frozen mountains to save those survivors of the marooned companies.

This winter my mind has often gone to an entry of a young girl who recalled her rescuer coming to her where she was huddled on the ground with only a blanket for warmth.  The man rode up to her and asked her if she wanted a ride and she answered she would.  He told her to take his hand which she did assuming he would pull her up by him on the seat of his wagon.  But instead, he started cantering the horse and while holding tight to her hand, forced her to run along side him.  She cried out in pain because she was so cold and stiff, but the man continued to have her run even increasing the pace of the horse until she was to the point of collapsing and allowing herself to be drug, when he finally pulled her up into his wagon and gave her another blanket.

She says she didn't realize it at that time, but afterwards recognized that getting her blood moving saved her feet from freezing and possibly even her life on the ride out of the Sweetwater Camp to Salt Lake Valley. There were numerous stories in the same book about those whose tenuous lives were extinguished on that rescue ride and also many amputations performed on the survivors of these Handcart Companies upon arrival in the Valley.  My mind has played and replayed this young woman's story as I've considered if her rescuer knew that he had to get her blood pumping to warm her and help her to survive this last leg of her arduous journey or if he was just prompted by the Spirit to do that.  In 1856 there wouldn't have been the scientific evidence to show how human blood circulation becomes limited in cold temperatures and eventually stops flowing to the extremities in an effort to keep the blood temperature as warm as possible in the truck of the body.  He was probably aware that activity warmed the body, but not the science behind it.  I wonder if thought about the tasks this young lady would perform through the rest of her life that would require her health and her feet?

The man must have initially appeared cruel and heartless to this poor girl as he compelled her freezing body into a painful jog.  But how wonderful that for the rest of her life (and she lived a very long and full life according the rest of her account) she praised God and was grateful to that unnamed rescuer for his foresight and wisdom in obliging her into such a difficult and painful run before finally pulling her into the wagon.

I've been considering parallels in life.  Our rescuer, Jesus Christ, who loves us and only wants to save us and see us happy, realizes we have to go through difficult things. Sometimes we are at the point of collapse, but we have to have faith that he will pull us into the wagon when we have done all we can to to learn, grow, and move our blood through our veins enough to be saved.

Introducing a New Blog

I know there aren't too many people who read my blog and even fewer who will care about this, but I've started a new blog called Pleasant View South Indexers.  For anyone who might be interested in our stake's daily indexing totals, the break-down of the total by wards, or information and posts about Indexing check out this blog: http://pvsouthstakeindexers.blogspot.com

I'm looking for guest bloggers who would be willing to share their Indexing experiences.  Let me know if you might be interested...thanks and happy Indexing!