Old Prompting Leads to New Prompting?

I made a quick trip to Idaho for my niece Mindy's reception.  I was invited to Rilz and Mindy's wedding in Hawaii and intended to go.  In fact, I was really excited.  I have never been to Hawaii, so with flyer miles, Robin's connection for housing, and planning on fun sharing a room with Nan Arnold, I was out of here.  I kept finding a reason to postpone making the reservations, but with it down to the last day to get tickets cheap, I started the process.  I still could not bring myself to go ahead.  The next morning, now the last possible day to use my flyer miles, I woke up with a memory of years ago when I had a prompting not to leave Rexburg for the trip home with my babies.  Vividly the memory rushed back of me leaving a day early to attend the temple wedding of my friend Ann in SLC on the way home.  I had arranged baby sitters and Ann was counting on me.  However, that morning  I had awakened with an over whelming feeling to not go.  Rationalizing that my car had been serviced the day before, my babies were well, and not wanting to let anyone down, I did not obey the prompting.  When I was about two hours from Rexburg, MY CAR MOTOR BEGAN TO BILLOW SMOKE.  The service guy, who did my car the day before, had not put the oil plug back in after filling my oil!  I ended up being stranded on the side of the road for hours with my little ones.  Dad helped me limp back to Rexburg.  If I had obeyed the prompting, I would have known about it while I was using my car in Rexburg and an early discovery would have saved our car which was never the same after that.    I learned a valuable lesson....listen and obey, even when it does not seem logical.  Now fast forward about 35 years, and I am laying in bed with a light slowing coming on in my fuzzy brain.....have I been being prompted to not make the reservations?  Is the Spirit using my old experience to remind me to listen and recognize a prompting?  Next thought....perhaps I should pray about this.  Next thought....yes you should.   After prayer.... I am NOT supposed to go to Hawaii.  Next thought...oh no, I have people counting on me.  Next thought....what terrible thing is going to happen if I go?  I called Robin and Nan.  Nan understood and luckily I got Robin's voice mail.  I knew she would be very mad, and she was cooled off by the time she talked to me a few days later.  "Why aren't you going?"  Don't know, just a feeling was my reply.  The Monday I was supposed to leave for my week in Hawaii, I felt like I was waiting for a phone call to emergency for a loved one or a catastrophe of some kind.  Tuesday I had a little muscle problem in my upper leg, but I am still waiting for the emergency phone call.  Wednesday I am now trying to not limp, but still waiting for the emergency phone call.  Thursday I realize I am the emergency, I now can hardly move my leg and have chills and fever.  Friday morning the pain in my leg was gone and I am feeling a little better, so I go to the mountain with Walt who wants to go on a long four-wheel ride.  Forget those plans because Friday night (on mountain) the muscle in my other leg begins to pain and now I repeat chills and fever until Monday, the day I would have been coming home from Hawaii!  Who knew I had such a weird virus waiting to take me down...Heavenly Father that's Who.  I would have been a total pain in Hawaii, people worrying about me, and probably wishing I was in my bed at home, not to mention me trying to walk all over with a gimpy leg.  Hawaii will still be there waiting for me someday.

Four letter words

(Copy of email I sent to my family.)   Since the passing of a couple of weeks,  my mind has  returned to the discussion on swearing I had with some of you  at a get together at Cori’s house.  One of you said she had set a new years resolution to stop swearing.  As none of you say many cuss words around me, I was surprised. I shared with you at that time, due to the cussing environment I was raised in, I had constantly battled the problem  of swear words coming to mind, but with hope, prayer, and time eventually swear words have  faded from  my mind as well as not come out my mouth. Why? Because I did not want my children to learn to swear. I did not want my children to be raised with the lowest level of word usage. Since the afternoon I spent with you, I have thought often of what I should have said and there are a few things that have come to mind. First is the simple true fact that we are judged by others by what comes out of our mouth. We can act one way, but if we express ourselves contrary to our actions there is now a question mark of who one really is and what that person stands for. When words match actions there is never a doubt as to what that person truly stands for. I sincerely think that you are all wonderful women who want the highest level of communication in your homes, that you desire to be exemplary mothers, wives, and friends, and each has a personal love and belief in the Savior. Shouldn’t these actions match spoken words? Most things thrown at us in this life are out of our control. However, one thing we always have control of is what comes out our mouths. It is my observation that the greatest power in the world is the power of the spoken word. Words can heal, words can bring understanding, words can uplift, words can give courage, and words can inspire. A word seems like such a little thing, but out of small things comes that which is great. Even though the following story is not about swearing, I think it illustrates this point. I love each of you with all my heart.

Story emailed to me :
Several years ago, a newly called Mormon Missionary accepted a call to serve in Houston , Texas . Some weeks after he arrived, he and his companion had occasion to ride the bus from  their apartment to the downtown area. When
he sat down, he discovered that the driver had accidentally given him  a quarter too much change. As he considered what to do, he thought to himself, 'You'd better give the quarter back. It would be wrong to keep it.' Then he thought,
'Oh, forget it, it's only a quarter. Who would worry about this little amount? Anyway, the bus company gets too much fare; they will never miss it. Accept it as a 'gift from God' and keep quiet.'
When his stop came, he paused momentarily at the door, and then he handed
the quarter to the driver and said, 'Here, you gave me too much change ..' The driver, with a smile, replied, 'Aren't you the new missionaries at the Mormon Church in town?' 'Yes' he replied.
'Well, I have been thinking a lot lately about going somewhere to worship. I just wanted to see what you would do if  I gave you too much change. I'll see you at church on Sunday.'  The now stunned missionary got off the bus and silently expressed a sincere prayer of  forgiveness and said,   'Oh Heavenly Father, I almost sold your Son for a quarter.'
Our lives are the only scripture some people will ever read. 
Watch your thoughts ; they become words.
Watch your words; they become actions.
Watch your actions; they become habits.
Watch your habits; they become character.
 Watch your character; it becomes your destiny.

Time Heals All Wounds?

I woke up very early this Sunday a.m.  We now go to meetings at 9:00 a.m., so with yesterday being New Years Day, I did not prepare my Strengthening Family lesson until this morning before church.  I awoke long before the alarm, probably close to 4 a.m.  There in the dark my mind replayed, almost in panorama, the last decade of the most major of tribulations we have experienced.  I am a naturally positive optimistic person.  I do not work at it, it is just there, deep in my soul, I am happy with a smile on my face.  I was born with it.  So it was extremely unusual for me to experience scene after scene of harder times of the last ten years.  First, to my mind came the vivid pictures of my our nephew Bruce Cluff's death.  I loved him as a son.  I tended him when he was little as he and my daughter Cori Ann became the closest of friends.  He was in and out of our home constantly, lived with us before his mission, and lived with us again after until he was settled in college.  When he was a father of two, with one on the way, his military plane crashed in Columbia.  We housed his siblings during the two weeks he was missing.  It was an ordeal I never want to repeat.  I still think of him often and miss him terribly.  Next to my mind came the sale of our drilling business to a person we trusted.  Walt gave him every advantage financially to help him get a good start.  We soon found ourselves in a betrayal. Without our knowledge, this person turned quickly around selling the business for double the amount to a another man who had also wanted the business from us.  Walt had honored the first person because of a handshake to keep his word. Our buyer did not disclose to his quick- sale party the terms of our agreement to settle tax liability, pay off supply expense incurred on a drilling job that he received payment for, and drill a well on our property on Cedar Mountain.   Our accountant firm, who had drawn up the contracts and had been present at every negotiation, offered their lawyers free of charge to prosecute this dishonorable person citing numerous breach of contract.  However, after much prayer, Walt decided against it and I honored my husband's decision.   Next my mind relived the excitement of our daughter's mission call.  We were thrilled, she was our first missionary.  She had several emergency admittances regarding asthma and allergy.  She had been ill at times, but still loved her mission.  Several months passed when we received a call from her mission president.  Due to the more strict medical guidelines, she was asked to go home.  She had refused to return, so in a tearful phone call, after prayerful council, we said come home.  Our broken hearted faithful daughter came home from a treasured beloved mission.  My mind replayed when Walt was involved in a accident where his hand and arm were seriously burned.  He had to go to the burn unit to have the area scrapped several times a week for a long period of time.  My mind went to some trying times when a couple of our children had marital challenges.  My sister, whom I am close to, suffered a massive stroke losing use of an arm,  leg, and fluid speech,  even though she is only in her forties.  This greatly affected me. Next in my panarama came the termination of my contract with the Southwest Utah Health Department due to budget cutbacks.  Over an eight year period of time, I had built two programs.  I handed them over to two people still in their twenties who would  "work them into" their already busy schedule.   My mind then went to this unprecedented economical crash, our future retirement depending on rent of two commercial buildings. One now sitting empty due to  the tenant going out of business, the other having to lower the rent to the point that it hardly pays the expenses to keep our real estate investments.    We are now at the age we projected for an early retirement, but my husband is running his water pump installation and repair. There are fewer clients nor  are there business  buyers whom we planned on selling to by this point of time.  After this panorama was complete, it came to me how we had gone through all of it with calm and peace.   As my mind's eye looked at each tribulation packaged into a decade, and I don't think I had ever viewed them in such a context nor dwelled on them,  I realized there was a silver thread that ran through every experience.  I could see with each tribulation, Walt and I had been been wounded, a jagged tear, a gaping hole.  I saw clearly that the wounds had been cleansed with the blood of Jesus Christ then sewn up with the threads of the atonement.  Through this last decade, we have experienced peace, love,  joy,  long suffering, and hope.  Our faith and testimony is stronger now than ten years ago.    I had someone say to me once that time heals all wounds.  Perhaps, but time's healing can leave a jagged scar.   Through the application of faith, I have found that the Savior heals all wounds,  but His healing leaves no scar and in place of a wound, gratitude.

This, That, and a Tiny Miracle

I am pretty much done with Christmas preparation.  Our family dispensed with buying for one another, so we could all help a family who has not been able to work due to back surgery.  This decision made for a very stress free December.  No worry on what to give or buy for the adults.  My arm can now move forward, back, and a little sideways.  Therefore, I was able to make an apron for Kim's b-day, and paint a couple of snowman ornaments.  I made two, one for my friend Wendy and the other to hang on my own tree.  The ornament is of snowman couple, a snow scene, the year, and names of Walt and Penny.  On the back I wrote, Two Hearts Melting Into One.  They turned out very well, but due to their round shape pictures distort them, so I did not attempt to post a picture. 
Now for my little miracle.  I have tried  recently to be more specific in my prayers.  I asked this morning that I would be used as an instrument to help someone come closer to Him.  Short, to the point, a simple here I am.  I went to a Kitchen Center that has a great selection of storage, mixers, etc.  When I was looking at the aprons, I was standing by a lady that said while she was looking at them, "I just sent one to my niece."  We struck up a conversation and then I notice the store had put in a little soup and sandwhich cafe.  She told me the soup was great as I went to look at the selection.  As we were deciding what to have, I complimented a lady in front of us in line that was in total Christmas attire.  Red and green all over her, she looked like an elf.  After paying for my soup, I asked the "apron" lady if she would like to join me.  I  can't recall in my life ever having asked a stranger to join me for much of anything.  She said she would like to as she was alone that day.  We found a table and that is when I noticed the "elf" lady sitting alone not too far from us.  I asked if she would like to join us too.  She told us she "didn't want to interrupt us", but we both reassured her she would not, so joined us also.  She later told us that she thought we were friends the way we were communicating with each other.  She was happy to have the company.  So there we were three former strangers, now Pam, Gloria, and Penny.  We talked for about 45 minutes as we ate an amazing squash soup.   Gloria asked us if we had been to that cool store called Deseret Book and Mormon Handicraft.  She said the store was like walking into heaven, people so friendly and helpful, "such a great feeling in there".  She had moved here from Washington DC where she had recently retired from being a budget analyst for the military.  She said she did not know why she had come to St. George, it just "kind of happened".  Why were you in Deseret Book?  She then said she had an interest in genealogy and someone had told her there was info there.   Where do you live?  She then explained she was about two blocks from the temple.  Pam, the elf lady, turned out to be a nonmember also.  By the end of the hour, both women had given me their names and contact information.  What an experience!  I will submit their names for missionary work as soon as possible.  When we parted, I felt like I had said goodbye to two old friends.  Maybe they were ....a long long time ago.

Two Pure Joy Moments

After a month of hurt with my arm, I have experienced a hectic but fun Thanksgiving, several weeks of  ball games for grandson's Brad, Morgan, and Logan, and last but not least, ornament- making family home evening last night with unexpected attendance of Jessi, Cody, and Emma from Provo.   All wonderful, but I was exhausted this morning.   I took time for a short thank- you -prayer and asked to feel joy today.   After cleaning the house and gathering lost and founds, I decided to return Nati's jacket on my way to run errands.  No one was home and she asked me to just go in and leave it.  After placing it on her sofa, her beautiful tree caught my attention so I went over to see if the ornaments from last night were on her tree yet.  I soon found myself studying many ornaments from years past, most made at my home.  Brad and Morgan's name and year carefully recorded on the back.  Then I noticed older handmade ornaments Nati had made when she was a child.  She had carefully placed them at the top of the tree, some made of clay, some of wood, some of fabric.  In my minds eye, I was once again sitting with my little ones around the kitchen table, no care for perfection, but just simply guiding them as they did their best to make an ornament they would display with pride.  Little did I know back then I was starting a tradition that would stretch into the next generation.    Then it came, an unexpected saturating indescribable feeling of pure joy.  Then on my way to a fabric store, a lady caught my eye.  She was limping, but with a good arm carrying a small bag of groceries.  As I got closer, I saw she was holding the other arm in front of her, the fingers curled, her wrinkle-free face pulled lower on one side.  She was a young stroke victim obviously on her way to the low-income apartments that are behind the grocery store.  I immediately thought of my sister Robin, she having experienced a stroke only in her forties.  I was suddenly struck with the contrast.  My sister lives in a beautiful one level home that she can navigate well even since her stroke.  Even with limited use of an arm and leg, she has taught herself to drive her car again.   I thought about how blessed she has been to have a daughter living right next door, the rest of her family within close proximity, and a son and son-in-laws to help if she needs it.  Then  it came, the saturation of pure joy in my whole being for the blessings my sister has been given.  My simple heavenly request to feel joy today had been granted not once but twice.

Our Geneology Rexburg Trip

Robin and I with Elmer Park, our Mother's youngest and only living sybling

It snowed and hailed.  I was still cold in my down coat even with a warm hug.

My sister Robin and I left for Rexburg Idaho to visit with our mother's brother Elmer and her nieces.  Our purpose was to renew friendships and gather genealogy.  We arrived after dark on October 25 and as we came in on the freeway there it was.  The Rexburg temple shining brightly on the hill.  It was spectacular.  We met Uncle Elmer Park and his wife Merlene the next morning for a temple session.  Robin had not attended yet as I had the summer it opened.  It was humbling to see this manifestation of the prophesies out great grandparents had heard many years ago...that a temple of the Lord would one day be on that hill.  When the times were hard for the early Saints, general authority traveled from Salt Lake to bring hope to the discouraged saints.  The elements were "tempered" in the name of the Lord and it was promised that there would one day be  productive farms, a house of learning, and a temple.  These promises were shared with the pioneers from a wagon box.  One such account is shared in our Arnold history.  The saints sat on the floor joists of our great great grandfather's house listening to the hopeful messages shared that week.  They are now known as the Wagon Box Prophecies.  

 Elmer and Merlene work in the temple and they took us on a tour, followed by a dinner in Rigby, and a warm visit at their home during a bitter cold day.  Robin and I took pictures of our parent's homes and took flowers, provided by Elmer, to our parents graves.  The next day we met with our Aunt Ruth"s (our mother's sister) daughters Becky, Sandy, and Cheryl.  We went to dinner with them, and after having a wonderful visit with them, returned to Becky's to copy genealogy.  Becky has been gathering life histories and records for over 30 years.  We copied hundreds and hundreds of pages.  She is an amazing women.  She is and has been a blessing to the entire Park family.  Her sacrifice of time, money, and talent serves as a example for all of us.She is suffering from cancer, so we were amazed at her physical stamina while we took many hours to copy what she had so painstakingly gathered.  When I was on my way back to Utah, I called to thank her once again.  She told me that she too was amazed at the physical well being she had while we were there.  She had not experienced such good days for a long time.  She said she felt strongly that our ancestors had helped her because they wanted us to have the information.  After I returned my sweet sister back home I spent my last night at my brother Tim's house  before I left for home.  I was exhausted and my right arm was starting to really hurt me.  I had a fitful sleep, but  I awoke with the realization that I now had in my possession two hundred years of family history.  With that thought , I realized I  was humming the song from the movie Titanic...a song by Celine Dion.  The words in my head were "Far across the distance and spaces between us, you have come to show you go on. ...Once more you open the door.... and I know that your heart goes on."  The song stayed in my head for a few days.  Maybe it was a spiritual experience or triggered by pictures of great grandmothers in their big turn-- of-- the- century hats. It seemed very sweet to me.

Our Aunt Ruth Harris' daughters.  L to R Sandy, me, Becky, and Cheryl

Robin with cousins

Robin and I in Becky's living room

An Unexpected Gift

Sometimes God just hands you an unexpected gift. One you didn't ask for, but when it's given is what you were hungering for but didn't even know it.  My gift came quietly as I glimpsed a bit pink in the evening shadows shining through the trees near our place on Cedar Mountain last weekend.  Walt, Brandon and Jade had gone scouting for deer, and I was alone.   I put my book down, and thinking I needed to stretch my legs anyway, took a short hike to the hill not far from our RV.  I was not prepared for what I saw.  It took my breath away.  As far as I could see to the west from north to south exploded a protrusion of color.  Deep orange, coral, pink, and purple clouds streamed gold rays with the setting sun.  I looked up and the color was above me.  I looked east and the same shades were muted there.  How could a sunset be 360 degrees?  Soon my visual experience transcended into my spirit as I took in the wonder of it.  It was as if I was a little child  being wrapped in a soft velvet comforter.  I lingered until the night shadows quietly filled the sky with stars.

The Tree and Me

    I was asked to give a talk by my husband Walt who is 1st councilor in the Bishopric.  When he  asked me to speak and I told him NO.  On Christmas Eve, he asked if I remembered I was speaking and I asked him if he remembered I had said NO.   He is persuasive when he thinks he's right, so I spoke.  I was given the topic of the Restoration, and I narrowed it to testimony of the restoration.  A conversation I had with my sister- in -law Sharon Arnold, a few years ago, was brought to recall as I put my talk together.  She and I had been discussing challenges many have in staying committed to the Gospel.  She had explained that she thought they must have a "tradition- testimony and not a conversion- testimony".  I had never heard that term before, so I asked her to share more.  She explained that a traditional testimony would be one based on family traditions. A testimony of the importance of  activities that revolve around family such as baby blessings, baptism, attending church,  blessing on the food, family prayers, even accepting a calling because they have seen their mother and father serve.  She said the traditions are important, but a conversion- testimony is one based on personal knowledge that the Book of Mormon is true, Joseph Smith is a Prophet, and that the Priesthood was restored.    I was going to use Sharon's insight, and I had the talk somewhat together, when I woke up Sunday morning remembering a tree that had blown down in our neighbors front yard a few years ago.  I liked that tree and had tried to plant one similar in our front yard.  The next image was of me struggling to remove a misplaced cactus last year.  What was this all about?  It finally dawned on me I was being given a personal parable to share with my talk.  This morning I awoke with the impression to record it here.
    When our neighbors built a new house, they planted one tree in their front yard.  It was beautiful, shaded their windows from the harsh west sun in the summer, and dutifully dropped its' leaves allowing the sun to warm their home in the winter.  The first to put leaves on in Spring displayed almost a fluorescent green color and seemed to glitter.  It grew quickly and majestically within the next few years. One day a violent wind storm came and blew it down.  The next day I went over to see for myself.  I was amazed at how shallow and weak the roots had been.  They seemed so small in comparison to the attached strong tree trunk and limbs that had put on such a show for the last few years.
    I had wanted a tree like theirs, so I searched for the perfect specimen.  I did not want to spend a lot of money for huge one, so I found a tall one that had a good size trunk.  I placed it in the middle of some evergreens that I thought would not only add support, but would look terrific with the hedge surrounding it.  I thought about staking it well, but someone told me that it weakened them that the evergreen hedge would be enough.  It grew for several years.  I would watch it sway occasionally, and from time to time, I would have a little voice in my head tell me to stake it.  The experts must have been right, I reasoned.  Look how well it grows, straight and strong.  The tree's beauty could not be beat with the trimmed evergreens encircling it.  I don't know if the sudden storm was forecast, I only know it came blasted in as the sun was setting.  I still remember looking out the front window watching its that seemed to come so quickly out of nowhere.  I saw my tree swaying from side to side.  An alarm went off in my head that I must hurry and stake that tree.  I ran out in the sideways rain, thunder, and a wind so strong that I could hardly stand up. Defeated I ran back in the house.  I had not been at the window long when above the storm I heard the crack and saw the tree trunk shattering just a foot or so above the ground.  Why had I listened to the "experts"?  Why had not given this beautiful tree the support that it needed?   Sometimes I think of that tree when I have taught my own children, grandchildren, or been involved with youth in the church.  Do I depend too much on others to provide the support until a firm testimony is secured? 
    Last year I realized a cactus, in our zero scape front lawn, was getting too big.  It was supposed to be a little accent, but it now blocked the view of a large clay pot that we put in front of our window.  I typically am not a cactus lover, but when I saw this variety I changed my mind.  It was purple with streaks of green, beautiful in it's own right, but it needed to go.  Due to it not being that large, I thought I would save it, find another spot or give it to someone who valued it.  I planned my removal early during the cool morning long before the sun hit the front of the house,  After much digging, and many shovels full of dirt, I realized I had not loosened much of the root, let alone got it to the point of transplanting.  When the shade disappeared, I soon abandoned my goal of gently transplanting and went into attack mode.  The root system was dense and deep, and the outer root layer thick and protective.  My shovel was a tough one, but was bending at the base.  I was afraid it would break, so I went in search of the perfect tool.   I emerged with a sharp bar, a sledge hammer, and leather gloves to my elbow.    I was now armed for battle.   As the roots began to give way, I was amazed at how heavy they were.  I had to chunk them into smaller pieces, so I could toss them into a large wheeled industrial trash bin that quickly filled to over flowing.  After the murder was over, I tried to wheel the bin to the curb and could hardly move it.  I looked into this now massive hole and could still see little roots that dripped water.  It was as if they were tears and the cactus was of saying it could have endured for countless years, if only I had left it alone.
     Traditional testimony is good, but it cannot endure on its' own.  Just like the tree, it looks good, feels good, and can even bring limited joy, but when winds of adversity come it cannot stand on it's own.  A testimony built on personal conversion is like my purple cactus.  A testimony that protects itself from the harsh erosion of the world, one whose roots are deep, keeping a reservoir of living water for the rough times.  One of my favorite scriptures I memorized years ago is Helaman 5:12. "...it is upon the rock of our Redeemer...  ye must build your sure foundation; that when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you...."  May I, as well as my family, strengthen our testimony- roots and add to our reservoir of living water.

Goodbye Washington Stake RS

I was released from serving as Stake RS President in stake conference and today was really my first Sunday back into my ward.  It felt so good.  I introduced myself to a young woman in relief society.  I asked if she was new and she said she had been in the ward for a long time.  I simply shook her hand and told her I hadn't.  Last year I attended our ward and new door greeters shook my hand.  They did not know me, and asked if I was new.  I told them who I was and thought they might pick up on the Cluff last name, as my hubby serves as first councilor in the Bishopric, laughingly telling them I don't make it very much.  They then told me all about how they used to be inactive TOO.
   I coud not leave this part of my life experience without acknowledging the wonderful councilors and secretary I was blessed to have before the Stake split and they went into the other stake.  Helen Lund was my capable and inspired 1st councilor and Cinda Peterson served as secretary.  I learned so much from them and treasure our experiences.  One of the most spiritual experiences I had in my life was regarding the names .to present for those to serve with me . when I was first called.  I look back on it and am still astounded at how powerful the spirit can be in such things.  When I was asked to come up with the names and present them for consideration, I had a major brain freeze.  I drew a blank, explaining that I knew many in my own ward, but few in the stake.  (After I came up with the names, I could think of many woman outside my ward who would have served very well.) The Stake President said he could take care of that problem and handed me the names of every woman in the Stake.  The Stake at that time was 15 wards, there were over 3,000 names.  I went to the temple with the list and came out with two names.  I wrote the President a note with the names and these words.  "Here are two names.  I do not know them, nor do I even know if they are active in the Church."  He let me know they were both "faithful and valient woman" and he would be immediately making the call.  I did not meet either of them until after they had accepted the call.  Helen Lund had been hit by a car a couple of years before, breaking everything below her waist.  She came to my home for our first presidency meeting on a cane and could hardly get out of her car.  She could not kneel for prayer for many months.  In her setting apart, she was promised healing due to her faithfulness to serve. She became the Stake RS President of the new stake when it was created  two years later.  She is a walking miracle and was a joy to serve with.

Who I Want To Be When I Grow Up

As part of my stewardship being Stake RS President, I go on stake visits with various assigned ward RS Presidents. They choose who we visit, so during the past  few years the variety has been across the spectrum.  I have visited with those suffering from cancer, those who have lost a spouse or loved one, those in the hospital, and the inactive.  My last Stake visit was spent in the home of the most "with it" 92 year old sister I have ever met.  The RS President wanted to cheer her up, this sister was depressed because her doctor had told her she could no longer drive due to her side vision deterioration. If she was depressed, I would love to be around her when she is cheerful.  After a delightful conversation and mentioning we must hurry to our next visit, she jumped to her feet so SHE could help the 70 year old president out of her chair!  She asked if she could share a story with me before I left.  Expecting a selected spiritual experience, here is the story she wanted to share about the importance of not stepping on a duck, and with a very serious face, hoped perhaps it would help me.  Her story was as follows:
   Three faithful old sisters died and went to the other side.  Before the keeper of the gate let them in, he told them how valued ducks were in the "kingdom, so do not step on a duck".  If one did, they would immediately be chained for time and eternity to an old faithful priesthood holder.  When the gate opened they saw that ducks were every where.  They no sooner got inside and the first sister stepped on a duck.  A golden chain immediately formed on her ankle and she was attached to a very very old priesthood holder.  The second sister upon seeing what happened to the first, decided to step very carefully, but she bumped a duck.  The golden chain appeared and she was linked to a old, very old man.  The third sister thought "I no longer have to eat, drink, or sleep.  I do not even have to move, I am staying right in this spot."   A short time later a golden chain appeared on her ankle attached to a handsome muscled young man with a full head of wavy hair.  This sister could not keep in her joy and exclaimed "What did I ever do to earn this?"  The young man said, "I don't know what you did, but I stepped on a duck."
   When I am 92, I want to be just like the sister I met on my stake visit, and oh yeah, and not step on any ducks.

Penny's Pity Pot

   (Washington Stake RS Presidency, standing Kathy Gardner, Penny Cluff; sitting, Sue Jolley, Linda Schimbeck;  Three of the greatest women I have been blessed to know)

 We had some hard family news this week, directly following the news from the owner of the business we lease to at our shop.  He told Walt that he could rent a shop down the road a little bigger than ours with fenced black top (our fenced is gravel) for $1000.00 less than he rents from us.  When Walt told me, he premised with the words "I have some bad news".  I was elated the man did not say he was going out of business.  Walt is going to negotiate a lower rent.  Therefore, it has been easy to be weighed down with the challenges of life, and climb on for a bumpy ride on the Pity Pot.

     The ride on the pity pot ended tonight.  I serve as Stake Relief Society President and as part of my stewardship, I go on Stake visits with designated ward leadership.  This ward presidency member had lined up two visits, one of which greatly humbled me.  After being introduced, I inquired about the two cute children clamoring for the sister's lap.  This very young grandmother explained that she watched over her grandchildren most of the time due to some "serious problems" her daughter had in caring for them.  She said she keeps a mattress in the other room where they can sleep and be comfortable.  One was 9 months the other 2 1/2.   The presidency member asked if the medicine she was taking was still making her exhausted.  I found out that she is battling cancer and has to be on a med for a much longer period of time.  She explained that she was working in a doctors office, a job she had enjoyed for thirteen years, until she got cancer and had to have surgury.  With a sweet smile, she said it coincided with having to watch over her grandchildren, so perhaps it was a good thing.   I asked if she had ever wondered how hard it would be to go through this tribulation without the comfort of the gospel.  She said the peace of the gospel was what pulled her through, and especially this week.  She explained that her husband had owned a fence business and had to close it last year.  He was able to get a job a few months ago, but had just found out that company was closing its doors and he is once again without work.   Her youngest son, about ten years old, needed help with his homework so we left.  I could not leave until I embraced her.  As I held her to me, I was humbled to the marrow of my bones.