T-H-A-N-K-S-G-I-V-I-N-G

There’s just something about the dry crunchy leaves and the cool weather that brings back memories of Thanksgivings past. When my children and their cousins were small and quite noisy, my mother would shoo them out of the kitchen with various assignments related to the particular holiday. They might be instructed to write an original play, for instance, and even design the costumes.

A simple request that they were often given was to take the word THANKSGIVING and come up with a word for each letter of something they were especially thankful for. After her death, we continued that tradition except that we’d go around the table and verbally share our blessings. So to honor Margie and the tradition she started with her grandchildren, I’m going to give it a shot this morning, and I’m hoping some other folks will follow suit. That’d make my sweet mama happy…and her daughter too.

T-Teachers. I’m not saying that because I’m a teacher. I’m saying it because without them, I wouldn’t be able to read, write, add, or subtract. Nor would I know how to use Excel, a big plus in my job. Specifically, I’m thinking of Mrs. Lindsay who taught me the importance of pronoun agreement.

H-Hearts. I’m thankful for our literal hearts that keep on ticking month after month, year after year, whether we’re awake or asleep. Throbbing and pumping blood, they keep us going. I’ve also started thinking more about how the heart is the core of so much feeling and emotion. Consider the terms heartache, heartsore, a full heart, a happy heart, a heavy heart, and so forth. This morning, my heart is singing with joy and anticipation of days to come and memories of days of yore.

A-Ants. Yes, I know that’s a little weird, and I started to put America, but I decided to leave that to someone else. Although ants are pesky little creatures, and we have about a jillion of the itty-bitty black ones in and around our home from time to time, they impress me because of their organization and industriousness.

N-November. Beautiful month.  Special one too. My parents were married in November, and I’m pretty sure I was conceived on their honeymoon since I was born nine months later. To add to the enjoyment of the month, two of my three children were born in November…towards the middle of the month when trees are still ablaze with yellow, orange, and scarlet.

K-Kisses. Especially wet, slobbery ones from my grandchildren. I even like the ones they blow. When my daughters and I end our phone conversations, we usually end with “I love you. Kiss, kiss,” something we picked up from my mother. Oh, and of course there are the romantic kisses. I once read that some kisses are like commas, some like periods, and some like exclamation points. Which do you like best?

S-Soap. And all things related like suds and shampoo and scents. Aren’t we fortunate to have the luxury of warm, soapy baths and showers, a treat not experienced by much of the world?

G-Grandchildren. Their little bodies and personalities are all so unique, yet all are reminders that our family will go forward in the future…and not just our family, but the family of humankind.

I-Internet. When I think of all the information I have at my fingertips and the lightening speed with which I can communicate with others, I’m awed. My daughter Carrie can post pictures and videos of her children a state away, and I can look at them a few seconds later.  My most recent favorite is of little Emma praying, arms crossed and eyes closed shut.

V-Verve and vivacity, qualities I enjoy seeing in others. They’re contagious.

I-Ilk. Crazy choice, but it’s a good word, one that reminds me that words are so powerful and fun, especially words like ilk, jettison, and fortuitous.

N-New Shoes. That might seem a little materialistic, but that’s how I feel. My grandmother Clyburn LOVED shoes (or so I’m told), so I’m wondering if this is a DNA thing. Seriously, the type, style, color, fabric, and design of shoes are amazing. You almost need a Ph.D. in Shoeology to select a pair of athletic shoes.

G-Gratitude and grateful hears. I sincerely think our Heavenly Father is saddened when we forget the source of all of our bounteous blessings, and I’m grateful that President Lincoln set aside this day to remind us of His beneficence.

A few years ago as we took turns stating at least one thing we were thankful for, Paul summed it up for everyone there when he said, “Everything.” Amen, Bud. Even the bad stuff can teach us something.

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone! Let’s see your list…or at least a couple of things you’re grateful for.

Feliz Cumpleanos, Pablo

I was 34 and the mother of two darling daughters, ages 4 and 7. Between home, church, family, and work responsibilities, I was a busy, busy gal. Still, I felt that something was missing, and we began talking about having another child.

 

In his gentle way, my father-in-law kept hinting that we needed a boy to complete our family. My mother-in-law looked at me, the girl in a whirl, and wondered aloud whether I could handle the additional responsibility. A male friend at work intimated that I was too old to have a another baby; another colleague, a female, took me aside one day and told me that I still a young woman with no idea how much richness lay in store for me. “Don’t rule out having another baby,” she implored.

 

One day it hit me that we didn’t need to consult anyone about this important decision. It was our business, our family, our life, our choice. This story has a happy ending, a gloriously happy one. On Saturday November 19, 1983, Paul Benjamin weighed in at eight pounds and seven ounces, and our family was finally complete. One look at his perfect little bald head and his baby blue eyes, and I was in love with the new man in my life. Still am.

 

25 years later, Paul’s a married man, a returned missionary (Mexico) a college grad (cum laude, no less), a graduate student, and the best looking 25 year old around. My long ago colleague was right; I had no idea how much richness this child would bring into my life.

 

 

Sunday Thoughts

I can’t recall a Sunday in my adult life when I’ve left church without feeling edified and uplifted. Today was no exception. For starters, there was the Primary program, and I, like all of the other women in the chapel, had to dab the tears from my face a couple of times. The sweet voices of the children as they sang the hymns they’ve so diligently practiced with their leaders tenderly touched the hearts of all present. “A Child’s Prayer,” can penetrate even the toughest of veneers.

 

I didn’t take notes on the words spoken by the children, but I recall one line in particular that I need to remember: “Teach the gospel by the life you live.” A double blessing for me was knowing that my three adult children will be treated to (or already have been) the same spiritual program and be reminded of the same basic principles. Seems like yesterday when they were participants; now my grandchildren are. I wish I could be there to hear Braden’s little talk and watch him sing with his Primary buds.

 

On to Sunday School. I’m currently teaching the teaching development course, a sequence of 12 lessons on topics essential to effective gospel teaching. Although I’m a teacher by profession, I always feel a little anxious about my Sunday morning lessons. Despite praying, pondering, and studying, I always feel some apprehension until we actually get going. I love my class, though, and we’re all learning together. Today we discussed the principle of “diligent learning,” and each of them shared something he or she had learned since last week because of going the extra mile in study and prayer. Queen Esther, King David, Mary (the mother of Christ), Zoram, and Alma were a few of our scriptural characters that came more to life this morning.

 

Relief Society topped off the morning, and one of the many things that Sister Osteen mentioned was the importance of “holy places.” That caught my attention, especially since I realize that my home and even my heart and mind can be holy places depending on what I allow into them. Then there’s the fact that Relief Society is such a great organization for good and that I get to participate in it every Sunday. As I sat there among my “elect” friends this morning, I wondered how my daughters and daughter-in-law were enjoying their meetings. My thoughts then wandered to Torreon, Flagstaff, Madrid, and London as I visualized women there learning and singing and worshipping just as I was. Regardless of age, race, ethnicity, location, or social status, we’re truly all “sisters in the gospel.”

 

 One of the things we discussed in Sunday school was how Alma was distressed over how the Zoramites left their synagogues after their day of worship and never picked up their “religion” again until the following week. We vowed to try our best not to have a Sunday kind of religion but instead one that followed us to our homes, places of employment, and even Wal-Mart. I hope I can follow through.

Birthday Girl

My lovely, gifted, competent daughter is 30 today, and I will NEVER EVER forget the warm softness of her baby cheek as her father brought her face close enough to touch. I marveled at her exquisite features and the miracle that she was. I cried when she cried, and the doctor mistakenly interpreted my tears to be those of sadness over her gender. Not so, I quickly replied. “I’m crying because she’s a baby…and so beautiful.”  I still feel that way. She’s still a miracle, one that captured her parents’ hearts on a Tuesday morning in Myrtle Beach 30 years ago.

Here’s a poem I found in a book of poetry by Carol Lynn Pearson, Women I have Known & Been, that eloquently says it all.

 For Children Grown and Gone

My garden could not contain
The beauty of you.

I watched you blossom
Then burst into blessings,
Seeds winging in the wind
Beyond my field.

Only God can measure the yield
Or knows
All the places where
Your beauty grows.

 

Two Extraordinary Men

Hands down, Kathleen Parker is my favorite columnist…and no, not because she’s a woman but because she has the uncanny ability to say just what I’m thinking in a much better, more eloquent manner. You’ll see why in a moment.

 

At the end of election week, I find myself still thinking of John McCain and what a courageous, tough man of integrity he is. Don’t experience and sacrifice count for something?? Then I think of our president-elect, and as I said in an earlier post, I can clearly see that he has many sterling attributes and that perhaps he is the better person for unifying such a diverse group of people. My heart is sore for McCain, but my spirit is hopeful for Obama and his mission.

 

What does this have to do with Kathleen Parker? In her words: “We arrived at this historic moment through the sacrifices (and blood) of those who preceded us. Barack Obama’s ascendancy is testament to the audacity of the American dream—as well as to the enormous suffering of men such as John McCain.” And then she continues, “Two men of extraordinary talent clashed not in the battlefield of strap-on bombs , but in the civilized arena of ideas.”

 

See. I told you I couldn’t have said it better (or as well).

Our New President

I’ll admit it; I voted for John McCain. I like the guy and everything he stands for. What’s not to like and respect about a man who as a young P.O.W. turned down the opportunity to go home after his captors learned of his identity? To him, it seemed wrong and downright unethical to desert his fellow countrymen who were also being held as prisoners. That’s the kind of man I want in my foxhole, don’t you? Then there are the decades of experience in the Senate in which he was being honed and seasoned to be the leader of the free world. With our country at war, the economy in shambles, the healthcare system in a deplorable shape, I reasoned that his leadership skills were just what the nation needed.

 

However, America has spoken, and over half  feel that Barack Obama is the man for the job. There are several attributes that I admire about him, among them his cool demeanor, his keen intellect, and his evident ability to inspire faith and hope in those who are ready for change. It scares me a bit that he seemed to come out of nowhere and to have SO MUCH MONEY AND POWER compared to others with a longer, steadier track record. And yet, the voters have spoken.

 

Here’s another thought I had as I watched Obama’s family on election night. There they were: a father, a mother, and the children…a nuclear family in an age when the increasingly popular standard seems to be anything but. Perhaps he’ll be just the role model that young men need to encourage them to “step up to the plate” and accept the responsibilities of parenthood. Perhaps Michelle will somehow inspire young women to marry and then have children. No, I’m not bashing single parents. I am saying, however, that anyone reading this who doesn’t think there is some degree of “mother hunger” and “father hunger” hasn’t listened to the children, teens, and yes, even the adults of the U.S.A.

 

McCain valiantly fought the good fight and was gracious and gentlemanly in his election night speech. Perhaps Sarah Palin hurt his cause. Perhaps it was the economy. Maybe it was the legacy of the Clinton/Bush years. Then again, maybe it’s just that he represents the “old school,” and his fellow Americans are desperate for change.

 

Does the president-elect have what it takes to heal the nation’s wounds and forge “unity among diversity?” I hope so. He has my support and my prayers. From the advice he’s being badgered with from his supporters and well-wishers, he’s going to need all of our prayers. I once read that Billy Graham said he supported whoever was president at the time because of his fervent belief that whoever the man was, he was God’s choice for us at that time in history. Sure hope he’s right