The Parable of Santa Claus

As Christmas time approaches, the lights go up, the stores fill with glitz and glitter, and the air fills with Christmas music. There is something magical happening. Young children don't need a calendar, they see the signs and know that Santa's visit is near. They watch and wait with anticipation and excitement for that special man with power to give gifts to all the world. They know that the best gifts are reserved for those who believe and are good. 

Christmas is a time to celebrate the birth of our Savior. It is a time of gift giving, much like the wise men bringing gifts to the new born babe. The birth of our Savior was anticipated with excitement by many, as they watched for the signs that were predicted. Our Savior gave the gift of immortality to all. To those who believe and do all they can to follow His example and honor covenants, He gives the best gift of all, the gift of eternal life and exaltation. 

As we celebrate Christmas and remember our Savior's birth, perhaps we should look with anticipation and excitement to the time when He comes to the earth again. We should follow the example of the small child at Christmas time as they truly believe and watch for the signs and wait for Santa. Our Lord and Savior will arrive in majesty and glory to all the world. The best gift of all will be waiting for those who believe and are prepared.                                                                       
                                                                                                

The Parable of Black Friday at Walmart

I believe that there are parables all around us, just waiting for us to learn from.  Jesus Christ taught through parables and when asked why, He said that those who were ready to understand the teaching and wisdom would understand and those who weren't ready would simply think they were being told a story.  I am learning to see the parable in everyday experiences.  I see them more and more.  Perhaps that ability to see is a gift I've been given. 

So this parable started yesterday, Thanksgiving Day.  I didn't really have a desire to go out and do any Black Friday shopping.  At first, I couldn't talk myself into it.  All the excuses, I need to work on Friday, I don't really "have to have" anything that is being advertised, etc.  The reality, I just didn't want to put forth the effort.  With Walmart starting their sale Thursday night, I could certainly do that and there was one item on sale that I would like to pick up for someone.  It would give me an opportunity to just go out and get my shopping started, to at least feel like I was moving into the Christmas season.  So I decided to go.  I formed a plan, just a simple one.  There was only that one item that I was really venturing out for, but while there and waiting for the time when it went on sale, I would brave the isles of toys and shop for the grand kids.  Now you need to understand, if you haven't guessed already, I am not a seasoned Black Friday shopper.  I have only ventured out 3 or 4 times in my life.  Last year I experienced the lines of waiting for that wonderful TV.  I got my ticket, waited for over an hour with many others in line, but knew that once I had my ticket, it was just a matter of waiting and walking up with all the others, nice and orderly, to receive my TV.  So this year was certainly an eye opener.  I started to make my way through the store to where I thought this item would be sold.  I realized I really didn't have a clue where to go and asked a store associate who told me that it would be over in the action isle by the groceries.  Okay the term "action isle" should have been my first clue, but still clueless.  As I got closer, and it was now about 20 minutes before the item was to go on sale, I saw mobs of people in this action isle and could not see what items were stacked up in the isle.  I asked some of the people to only find out that there were numerous items here and to realize that I had no idea how to find my item.  There was a young man who asked me what I was looking for.  He was not a store employee.  He was just a shopper standing with the mobs to get some much wanted items for himself.  I told him and he said, "Just wait here a minute I'll find out where it is".  Did I forget to mention I had a cart full of toys and no one with me to man the cart while I braved the crowd.  This young man came back and said, "It's further down the line", and pointed toward the front of the store.  I thanked him and proceeded, trying to maneuver my cart down to where I needed to be.  It was an impossible task and this young man again stepped forward, grabbed the front of my cart and led the way as he moved people from my path.  At one point I decided to take a detour and just go through a grocery isle then take a less busy isle down and come back over to the action isle.  I thanked him and we parted.  My first attempt at this was unsuccessful.  I wasn't far enough down.  How did I know this?  Because that young man was edging his way down also, to find MY item and motioned to me to go 2 more isles down.  I got to the masses again at just the exact spot.  I still could not see my item, but that young man told me it was right in front of me, I just had to trust him.  I thanked him again and he left.  Now there was about 5 minutes left.  As I said earlier, I had only experienced the nice orderly line with a ticket in my hand before.  I now had a glimpse of my item.  I could see through the mob a very small stack of what I had ventured out for.  Maybe only 25-30 of them.  How incredibly ridiculous was that.  It was becoming ever so clear that this was going to be different than anything I had ever experienced before.  I think the 7ft,  375+ lb tattooed store employee (aka the bouncer) who was pacing up and down between the mob and the row of stacked items was my first really big clue.  He was shouting to everyone to NOT RUSH THE STACKS AND TO LET HIS ASSOCIATES DO THEIR JOB, as they removed the plastic from the stacks.  He was shouting that the police officers, who were armed by the way, would not hesitate to escort anyone out of the store who did not comply.  HOLY COW, WHAT WAS I IN FOR? 

Okay to finish my story, I got my item!  It was total madness for about 45 seconds before I had my item in my hand.  There was a woman there who was watching her cart while her daughter braved the front lines and agreed to watch mine also.  There was also a woman in front of me who, a few minutes later, found me to give me the extra item she grabbed for me, just in case I didn't get mine.  I left the store feeling very accomplished and wanting to blog my experience.  I wanted to write something clever and witty that would make people laugh and say, "Wow, you are a really great writer".  All I could think of was the metaphor of the battle and front lines and such, but that has been written and rewritten.  So I came home and went to bed.

I woke up really early this morning and couldn't sleep.  My parable was made clear.  What did I learn?  Well, first my hesitancy to just go, to just put myself out there in the crowds would have kept me from experiencing this parable.  My clueless state of mind, was soon replaced with anxiety and even a little fear.  There was someone there to help me along the way, even lead me when I didn't know where I was going and couldn't even see the goal.  There was someone there to watch my cart, or my burden, while I ventured on.  In the midst of chaos, I soon realized it was brief and I had my reward in my hand, my own doing.  But just in case I didn't get my reward by myself, there was someone there to do it for me and hand it to me.  All because I put myself in the position to get want I wanted and to receive the prize.  And finally, as I left the store and was pondering how to blog about this experience, and wanting people to ooh and aah over my story, I realized it's okay to need people to build me up.  It's okay to thrive on the positive and it's okay to love my new found writing passion.  So if you enjoy what you read, whether this post or others, don't hesitate to comment on it at the bottom.  I need your positive thoughts to help keep me going some days.  We all need each other to help us through a lousy day, or a lousy life.  We don't know what our efforts or our comments will accomplish, but let's not hold back or keep them to ourselves.  Others need us and we are here to help each other.

The Journey, Part 2

If you haven't read an earlier post of mine, called The Journey (in the menu under September), I suggest you do that before reading this one.  This is a continuation of the journey I'm taking, that journey to find the then and there me.  Well, I'm finding her, little by little, strength by strength.  I would like to report that finding her is bringing much peace into my life.  Experiencing her strength, the strength that is now becoming my own strength in the here and now me is a marvelous thing.  If you're confused about just who the 'then and there me' and also the 'here and now me' are, you didn't go back and read The Journey.  Gotta do it.  So I'm finding her.  Still more to find I'm sure, but no doubt, well on my way.  Something happening here that I want to tell you.  Just when I think I'm getting the hang of this journey to find her, that it's going to be smooth sailing, I discover a road block.  IT, the road block, is so large that IT would stop any further attempts to continue this journey.  I could stop my journey and go back the way I came.  Oh....I don't even like the sound of that, so that is NOT an option at all.  Or I could just stop my journey right here and camp out at IT, content with all I have gained and become, and grateful for the experience.  Hmm, that sounds comfortable.  Even sounds like what I might be doing, just waiting for someone else to come along and break IT down for me, so I can continue on my way.  But something is still missing here.  You see, I can see beyond IT.  I know there are wonderful and glorious things waiting for me further down my path.  I just can't get over IT without going way out of my comfort zone.  What if I have it within my power to conquer IT and move on?  What if the process, in itself, is empowering?  And here's a big question, what if I fear that empowerment that can be gained?  What if that fear is a huge road block in and of itself.  There is a quote from Marianne Williams, who is a spiritual activist and lecturer, that I have read on more that one occasion. 
 
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.  Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.  It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.  We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?  Actually, who are you not to be?  You are a child of God.  Your playing small does not serve the world.  There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.  We are all meant to shine, as children do.  We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.  It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.  And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.  As we're liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

The then and there me wants me to continue.  She wants me to know that I can't gain much more until I do.  She wants me to know that it's time to stop waiting for someone else to conquer this road block and that I have it within my power to do so.  She wants me to stop fearing the power that is not only within me, but within all of us.  I continue to feel her pushing, pulling, prodding me and I am up for the challenge!

Generation After Generation

It was September 24, 2012.  I was in a hospital room and witnessed the birth of my 1st great grandchild, Lila.  I was present for the birth of several of my grandchildren, I have 18 right now.  This day was different.  My oldest grandchild, Andrea, was giving birth.  This was not only the day Andrea became a mom, or the day my son and daughter-in-law became grandparents.  This was the day a new generation was born.  I will explain that there is no 'real blood line' from me to the new little angel born that day.  No genetics binding us together.  But I will also tell you that the day her mother Andrea, and her uncle Brigham, at the age of 4 and 3, came into my life--that is the day I became a grandmother.  No definition or standard supplied by the world will EVER change that!

It was 119 years ago, on the same day, that my Grandma Parker was born.  So here we are now, 6 generations later, and I fit smack dab in the middle, looking both back and forward.  I look back at some of the things my grandma had, and didn't have.  I remember a record player, or rather a phonograph as she called it, in her parlor.  It stood about waist high, a little larger than a filing cabinet.  It had a very large cone shaped speaker coming out of it, and a handle on the side that you had to turn, or wind up to make it play.  I remember, as a young girl playing records on this and dancing in grandma's parlor.  We of course, had a newer and smaller version of the record player at my house.  The sound that came out of that large box was much less than clear, but oh so fun.  I can only imagine how excited she was when she first acquired it, giving her music of her own choosing in her home.  I now can't imagine life without my ipod music at my fingertips anywhere and anytime.  Grandma never had a TV.  She could have had one in later years, but I think it was just a matter of principle with her.  I can remember as a young child getting our 1st color TV.  We did have a black and white before that.  How exciting it was to have the latest and greatest piece of technology in our own living room.  As a child I would come home from school everyday and turn the TV on to watch Star Trek.  Oh yeah, the original with Captain James T. Kirk and Spock and all of them.  The imagination that created that show was so amazing and beyond anything I would have ever comprehended.  That's why they call it science fiction I guess.  The hand held communicating device that flipped open, allowing them to talk to each other without wires connecting the two and at very long distances, was just one of those unimaginable devices to me.  I know that's why I held onto my flip phone for so long in more recent years.  The transporter, well what can I say about the transporter.  I am still amazed by the fax machine, putting a document into a machine, and then wha-la it materializes at the intended destination just as the original.  And remember the Jetsons.  Okay, many of you won't know who the Jetsons were.  They were a cartoon family in the future.  So many fun and interesting speculations of what the future would be like.  Just cartoon science fiction.  To think that you could talk with someone over a phone and actually see them and they would see you, on a screen while talking with each other.  I know, really bizarre!  At least it was then.  I think about these marvelous advances that I have witnessed and now enjoy in my life.  I can remember, when my oldest children were in their teens, standing in the front yard of a friend who was in advertising.  He seemed to be up on some of the newest technology.  He was telling us about this amazing thing we would see in the future, called 'the internet'.  This internet would connect us with people and businesses like we couldn't imagine.  He said there would come a time when we could buy things while sitting in our own living rooms and have them delivered to our homes, even pizza.  Wow, that was such an abstract concept to even think about, and not that long ago.  I don't think I'm trying to express how old I am, because I don't feel that old.  I think what I'm trying to express is how fast technology is advancing.  My 7 year old grandson, Talmage, is in 2nd grade.  The other day he said to his dad, "Do you know what they had before smart boards?"  Never quite knowing what he's going to say next, Chad said, "No, what did they have?"  He answered with a very slow and deliberate, "c-h-a-l-k   b-o-a-r-d-s", making Chad feel very old.  Upon telling me about this, Chad had to explain to me what a smart board is.  If you don't know, ask a kid.  Apparently the schools are using this new technology in place of the much outdated chalk board. 

So what is little Lila going to witness in her life time?  What modern technology do we enjoy now that she will never know, or will consider outdated.  And is there a purpose for all this technology.  Have you ever wondered why in the dark ages, there was really no advancement, centuries of stagnation.  Then in the 1400s, the printing press, which was the catalyst for knowledge to be spread and growth to happen.  The rest is history, one invention after another, at first rather slowly, advancing to what we are seeing now.  Like a snow ball rolling down a steep snow filled slope.  As it gathers more snow, it becomes larger and larger.  As it gets larger, it picks up speed.  As it picks up speed it just gathers more snow faster and faster, bigger and bigger....and so on.  What's it all for?  Is there a purpose, or just chance?  Just co-incidence?  I know I've said this before, but so true---Co-incidence is just God's way of remaining anonymous.  I believe that it all has a purpose.  I believe all this technology at our fingertips and every where around us is part of a very large master plan.  I believe that it is and will be used for good, as well as evil.  I can only hope and pray, as I continually do, that my children, grandchildren, and little Lila's generation will accept all this technology and use it for good in their lives and the lives of their families.  I can only pray.

The Man in the Flying Machine

To say my dad, Olean Parker, had a passion for flying is an understatement!  As a young boy, he liked planes and such.  He told people he was going to be an airline pilot when he grew up.  I would bet many didn't really take him seriously and thought his love for the flying machine was just a normal boy thing.  When he was 15, he was at the county fair with a cousin and they spotted a biplane landing in the weed field just next to the fairgrounds.  This was a barnstormer who, no doubt, had flown in to attract paying customers at the fair.  Dad had a little money in his pocket for the concessions at the fair, so he and his cousin headed over.  They both climbed in the cockpit and the pilot asked them what kind of ride they wanted.  His cousin said, "Take it easy".  Dad said, "Give it all you got".  The pilot must not have heard dad's cousin.  They did loops, stalls, dives, and climbs.  Dad's parents were at the fair wondering what stupid people were going up in that airplane.  They were terrified of flying and would have never allowed him to go, had they known.  When dad later told them he had gone up in that plane, they had a fit and would not allow him to fly again.  That ride just confirmed in dad's mind his love for the air and he knew for sure he wanted to learn to fly someday. 

It was 1966 before dad took his 1st flying lesson.  My grandparent's fear kept him from pursuing his dream sooner, but he finally gave in to his heart and started his quest to learn to fly.  He never become a pilot for an airline company, but he did get his license and purchase a small single engine Cessna 150.  He owned that airplane for about 10 years and gave many rides to his children, grandchildren, and anyone else who would ask, or he could talk into going up with him.  He didn't really need much of a reason to fly, just good weather and time.  I can't say I enjoyed the same level of passion dad had, but I did enjoy it.  I took flying lessons as a teenager and logged enough hours to fly solo (without the instructor).  However, I was not 16 yet and you couldn't solo until age 16.  I seemed to lose interest before I reached 16, so that never happened.

Everywhere we went, we would have to check out the local airport.  Dad's passion/obsession was predictable.  Small county airstrips or large city airports, it didn't matter to dad.  He would be there with his camera in hand to take pictures of any and all the  aircraft they had to see.  I remember the first time they drove to Phoenix to see us after I married and moved away, he wanted to take a "little field trip to Sky Harbor Airport", just to see what they had.  I attempted to explain that it was very large and it wasn't what he was used to.  We weren't going to be able to walk out among the aircraft and take pictures.  He insisted.  Little did I know, there were buildings/hangers at Sky Harbor, before you get to the terminals, where the smaller aircraft are and dad helped us find the entrance to get in there and see them.  He was a determined fellow.  On another trip to Phoenix, we had to drive out to an airfield in the east valley with older aircraft on display.  I never knew it was there, but dad did his research before he came.

In 2009 at age 87, dad's cousin Jim arranged for someone to take him up for a flight around the valley.  Jim's gift to dad has since become a gift to all of us who knew dad's passion.  Jim filmed the flight and the 1st time we saw it was at dad's funeral, 2 years later.  Thanks Jim.

This is the biplane that dad took his 1st ride in at the fair in 1937.

Dad's plane is the red one.  No, he didn't keep it in the front yard.

He and another pilot flew in and landed on the 'old highway'.  I would get at one

end and someone else be further down the highway and we would stop any cars

that might be on the road.  They would then land and taxi in to the yard where

we would get the hose and buckets and wash them.  Then we would go back out and

stop traffic (okay1-2 cars at best) so they could take off and fly back to the airport.

This is the link to the video of dad's last flight.

http://youtu.be/NR02esOg7Ic

Baby Steps, Growing Pains, and Life's Trials

Surely you've watched a baby learn to walk.  I know when mine were learning, there was such anticipation in that first real unassisted step.  There were usually falls and maybe even tears.  I watched the attempts and the falls, never really that far away.  My baby might not have known I was close at hand, but I was.  I would be there to compfort the tears, then I would encourage further attempts.  I knew that the walking was going to happen sooner or later.  I didn't cause the falls, but I knew that they just had to happen and were just part of the learning process.  I could have saved my baby from those falls and tears by avoiding the process all together.  Never fall, never cry, and never learn to walk.  I don't think my grown children would have appreciated that though.  I would bet they're glad, even grateful that I let them learn this new skill of walking.  There's something we know, as the parent, that the child doesn't understand.  We see a much broader picture and know that some things just have to happen in order to learn a new skill.  There's something the child will eventually understand when looking back.  They learn that the process was necessary to move on to the next great thing to learn.

Then there's the growing pains.  If you've ever sat up with a child crying in the night from leg pains, you'll know what I'm talking about here.  Maybe you can ease them a little with leg rubs or medicine, but not always.  And the name, "growing pains", come on--that is truely just a cop out, right?  Just something to call them, because we really don't know.  Well, that is what I thought then.  Working in the medical profession, I've learned something about growing pains since those long nights with the crying child.  The name is real, it is an accepted diagnosis in the world of medical coding.  It is described as pains occurring in the limbs as a result of growth spurts, associated with the ligaments and connective tissue holding the bones to each other.  So there you have it, and would the adult who experienced growing pains as a child exchange their grown body for no pain?  I would venture to say no.  Interesting what we can appreciate in retrospect.

So what is this story really about?  Okay, I'm getting to it.  Life is all about learning and growing.  What if this life is filled with all kinds of growing opportunities, even growing pains.  We might call them trials in life, real and painful.  We might not understand them.  We might just hope they go away.  If we believe in a God, we might wonder why He would allow those trials to happen to us.  We might even wonder why He would cause them to happen and question what we did to deserve them.  What if God is really our heavenly parent, watching over us, there to comfort us and pick us up and encourage us to keep trying.  We may not even know just how close this heavenly parent really is.  As the young child in this learning process, we don't see the final outcome, we just experience the pain at the moment and don't understand.  We certainly don't know or understand just what it is that will be learned.  We don't know how all the pieces fit together and work together, like learning to walk before you can run, or ride a bike.  Or how the connective tissue holding the bones together needs to stretch in order to have a strong upright adult stature.  We just feel the pain. 

I'm no different than any of you.  I have trials in life, we all do, and sometimes they are just plain painful.  Sometimes, like the child in the night, I just don't understand when the pain will go away.  But I've learned something.  It's very close to my heart and I want to share it with you.  I do know that I have a Heavenly Father watching over me, every day.  I know that He is there through every pain.  I know that He did not cause the pain, but there is growth happening and He is allowing me to go through the learning process.  As I have learned these things, something marvelous has happened.  I have learned to love my Heavenly Father.  I am learning to trust Him.  In the midst of pain, I have felt comfort and love from Him unlike anything I have ever felt before.  I would not have experienced that without going through trial and I would not trade this knowledge for anything.  My trials in life will surely continue, as that is what this life is all about.  However, they have brought me to this point in my learning and for that, I am truely grateful.

Me--Through The Years In Pictures

I came across a number of pictures that I thought would be fun to blog about.  That sent me on a search for more pictures.  I didn't think I would ever say this, but thank you Dad, for your obsession with the camera.  My dad has always taken a camera with him everywhere he went.  This was prior to the day of digital.  He had every roll developed and saved every print.  Throughout his life, until a few years before he died, he would put every print into an album.  I can say with assurity that I did not aquire this obsession for pictures from him. In fact, when both Mom and Dad left the house to live in a nursing home and it came time to clean out the house, the photo albums came home with me, but not because I wanted them.  It was because Dad wanted me to be the "keeper of the stuff".  So I have suitcases and boxes full of Dad's photo albums along with older pictures from generations back.  I now can appreciate the value of that and my heart is being turned to the  past through these pictures as I go through them from time to time.  So below are some that I've selected to add to my blog.  Of course, Dad did not take all of these, but his albums did get me started.  So thanks again, Dad.  Just a little disclaimer before you start looking at the pictures:  I do not like cameras and they don't like me.  I don't even like some of the pictures I'm including, but for posterity, here they are.



This is the youngest picture I have seen of myself.
Cute kid!

  



Youngest of 5.  We were so cute!

Lots of drives around Bear Lake.

At Aunt Ramona's cabin in Island Park.  Not a happy group. 

Kindergarten

I remember loving that dress.

3rd grade

About 9 or 10 here
 My oldest brother Charles was in the Navy and Tom hadn't left on his mission yet.

1975
Senior picture
All the senior girls wore the same dress.  Ok, not really, but that's what it looks like in our yearbook.  They made us use the pearl necklace and the "drape" thing to look like a dress.



1975

 Engagement picture

Aug 14, 1975

Wedding picture

1976

Starting a family.

Oct 1976

Ahhh, Chad was about 1 week old here and I had obviously not recovered yet.  Who talked me into this photo anyway?

1981

Family is growing with Chad, Angie and Zac.  I have grandkids that look just like that now.

1983

The day we were sealed in the temple as a family forever.

Yup, same wedding dress.  I planned it that way.

1995

Now with Lynsie--a growing family

This was just before Chad's mission.  When we put him on the plane for his mission, I stood there and watched the plane taxi out (when you could actually go to the gate to see someone off).  As it left, with him on board, I just started sobbing.  I knew my little family would never be the same.  Little did I know what was in store.  We just kept growing even more.

1995

At Mom and Dad's 50th wedding anniversary with 3 siblings, Charles, Tom and Margaret.  Not sure why David wasn't in the picture. 

1995

Me, Margaret, David, Tom and Charles

The 5 of us took many pictures on the front steps over the years.  There were very few occasions as adults that we were all  together again.

1999

Just before Angie's and Zac's missions

We added a daughter-in-law and started on grandchildren.

Aug 2001

Angie and Zac just home from their missions and Ali sealed to us all on this day.  We adopted Ali while both Angie and Zac were away.  Surprise, you have a new little sister.

 Nov 2003 in Idaho

Charles didn't make it down from Alaska for this trip.

2003

We just keep growing.....

2006

and growing.......

2009

and growing!!!

2012

In Idaho for Mom's 90th birthday celebration.  David and Dad both passed away in 2011.

2011

The most recent picture we have had so far.  At this point we  have 17 grandchildren.  Since the picture, have added an 18th grandchild and 1 great grandchild.  Still growing!!

2006

Ok, I know I'm not in this picture, but it is one of my all time favorites of my 5 children.

2011

We tried for a good picture of the grankids.

Don't know how good, but a whole lot of fun anyway.

To be continued.......

Me, Myself and I

It's quiet in the house.  Everyone else has gone to bed and the noise of the day is gone.  I've been sitting here for a while wanting to blog, but nothing is coming together.  I have a list of things to blog about, but couldn't quite get a handle on any of them.  Then the quiet set in.  I sat here for a few minutes, just taking in the silence, listening to my thoughts.  Just the 3 of us, me, myself and I. 

There's Me.....the child.  Doesn't that sound just like a child....me, me, me.   The youngest of 5, so very spoiled.  I'll admit it.  And my older siblings will also attest to that.  They will probably tell you I was the favorite too.  Not spoiled like you would define "spoiled" now days, though.  I may have gotten things I wanted, but I knew what to ask for and what not to ask for.  One year for Christmas, I asked for a portable cassette recorder.  Some of you won't even know what that is.  It cost about $30.  I didn't get it that year, or the next.  But did get it the 3rd year for Christmas.  I also wanted a cedar chest when I was a teenager.  I had been looking at them in magazines and had one of the least expensive ones picked out.  I think about $120.00.  My dad told me he thought he could afford it if we got 3 cuttings of alfalfa in that summer.  Our growing season was only about 3 months out of the year and the norm was to get 2 cuttings.  On a very few occasions, if the good weather would hold on a little longer, we would get 3.  By this time, my older siblings had all moved out and it was just me and dad moving the sprinkler pipe through the fields.  There certainly wasn't anything I could do in that regard to improve our chances of getting a 3rd cutting.  But I think I must have worked with a little more enthusiasm and a little less complaining that summer.  At the end of the 2nd crop, it was obvious that we were not going to get another one in.  I was disappointed of course, but that's just the way it was.  My dad then told me that he was going to buy the cedar chest anyway.  He said there wasn't anything more I could have done to improve our chances, so he was just going to buy it.  I guess that's what they called spoiled in my day.  I learned to sew at a very young age and was good at it.  I enjoyed painting and sketching.  I have to say I haven't done much sewing or painting/sketching since then.  I was good in school, although never liked the writing assignments.  I was confident and recognized by people around me as someone very capable, someone who would achieve much and be successful in life.  There's still a lot of Me, the child in my thoughts.  Some complete memories and some bits and pieces of memories, with a lot of tradition and family heritage thrown in.  That's probably why I love to go home to Idaho and visit on occasion.  It brings Me, the child to the surface for a brief time.

Then there's Myself.......What can I say about myself.  Myself is kind of a lonely word.  It implies just that, no one else, just myself.  It doesn't have to be lonely though.  At times I really enjoy Myself.  No one else to worry about, or think about.  No one else to try to please.  Just Myself.  We all have this, our inner thoughts, our private desires.  Things we don't share, for one reason or another.  Maybe we all have different proportions of the Myself in each of us.  I think sometimes I just want to keep Myself, to myself.  Little scary to put Myself out there. 

Finally there's I....I am a woman in my 50s who is a combination of all things leading up to this point.  I am a combination of the Me and Myself.  I am the future, taking the best parts of the Me and Myself with me into that future.  Learning from, but leaving behind all that is not good from the Me and Myself.  I am a mother.  No, I am a great mother.  I am creative and confident.  I am learning to express some of those inner thoughts so closely guarded by Myself.  I am learning how to be the "I" that I want to be.  I am learning to bring the Me back into the "I".

So, are you totally confused about now.  So am I.  Welcome to my thoughts.

Dancing In The Rain

I have a plaque on my desk that reads, LIFE is not waiting for the storm to pass, but learning to dance in the rain.  I was drawn to it a few years ago when I first saw it in a store.  Its message seemed nice and certainly positive.  It pulled me in and I bought it.  I came home and placed it on my desk where I see it every day.  There was something quite ironic about it though.  Something that didn't really apply to me, but I still liked it.  It didn't apply to me because I really didn't want to dance in the rain.  I didn't even know how to dance in the rain.  I just wanted to get out of the rain.  I didn't like the rain.  Didn't like the way it made me feel.  So I would stay inside where I could stay dry and warm.  Inside wasn't really a bad place to be.  It was safe.  I didn't really need to experience the outside when I could imagine and make up my own world while inside and safe.  When it would stop raining, I would venture out a little bit, only to find myself cautiously waiting and watching for the next storm to hit.  After all, I didn't want to be vulnerable to the effects of that next storm.  I didn't want to get wet and cold and miserable.  I knew it was out there and going to hit at any time.  I actually got very good at predicting when the next storm would come.  I could see the signs.  Sometimes my own actions would keep it at bay, at least for a little while.  Sometimes my own actions would bring it on even sooner, at least that's what I thought.  I later learned that the storm, at least my storm, had a mind of its own.  It only seemed like I could control it.  The more and more I stayed inside, afraid of the storm, the less and less I wanted to go outside.  I was beginning to feel trapped, very trapped within the very same "inside" that I created for myself.  Inside was really a very lonely place, safe but lonely.  My storms were keeping me from enjoying those people and the good experiences outside.  Maybe it wasn't really my storms causing this, but rather my reaction to the storms.  What if I could learn to not be afraid of getting wet, or cold, or miserable.  What if my fear was keeping me from enjoying the sunshine and all the people out there in the sunshine.  I began to wonder if the people outside knew who I was.  I don't think so.  My own doing though, because I didn't let them inside, and when outside, I was too busy watching and waiting for the next storm to even interact with the people out there.  What if my own family didn't even really know me?  What if I lived my whole life afraid of the storm, hiding in what I thought was a safe place, only to leave this life unknown to anyone.  How sad would that be!  I had to do something, but didn't know quite what that might be.  Over time and through some pretty intense soul searching, I have learned that I don't need to be afraid of the storms of life.  I have to say there has been much divine intervention in this soul searching.  I've not been alone and will not be alone.  I have learned that I am strong and can weather the storm.  I have learned that I do have something to offer and contribute to the outside world.  I can be outside with others, getting to know them.  I have learned that there are many others experiencing their own storms, who need my friendship.  I can allow them to get to know me.  I am learning that I don't have to be afraid.  When these storms end, and I move into the next phase of my life, I will be better for having experienced them.  I will not move on as someone beaten and battered by the storm.  I will be ready to experience whatever that next phase is.

I still look up and see my plaque daily.  LIFE  Is not waiting for the storm to pass, but learning to dance in the rain.  I just read and smile.

Parable Of The Tardy

Mornings are especially difficult in my house.  Getting Ali to school on time is a particular challenge.  The other day was no exception.  In our efforts to get out the door, we never seem to have time to say prayer, so we say a quick little prayer to start the day, while in the van, driving to school.  I know, very lame, but better than nothing.  I should back up and tell you that the school is about 1/2 mile from the house, just through the neighborhood.  It takes about 3-4 minutes to get there, and Ali's first class is all the way across the campus from where I drop her off.  So she is saying prayer and says, "Help me to not be late for school".  I glance down to check the time.  It's 7:43 and the final bell rings at 7:45.  There is no way she is going to make it on time.  She finishes the prayer and like a genius, I say, "You know, the bell is going to ring in 2 minutes and we are about 3 minutes away.  The Lord can do miracles, but we need to do our part too.  We can't waste our time in the morning and expect Him to get us there on time.  It's like taking a test for a class we know nothing about.  We can't expect the Lord to help us get an A on that test if we never attend the class and we don't study for the test.  We need to do our part.  Then we can ask Him to help us remember what we studied, so we can do our best on the test."  I asked Ali if she understood and she nodded that she did.  I then smiled and added, "I'm really glad you prayed for that so we could have this little learning opportunity."  I have to admit I was feeling pretty proud of my spur of the moment parenting skills.  I dropped her off and she headed to the office for her tardy slip.  My pride was quickly put in its place when another thought came to me.  I wonder, when I ask the Lord for those 'off the wall' things I pray for, does He sit back and smile and say, "My child, I'm so glad you asked for that.  Now let's see what learning opportunities can come from that request."

Prompted, Prepared and Protected

Something happened today.  Definitely has a WOW factor.  Some would call it unique, mystical, even weird.  Some would call it luck or co-incidence.  Co-incidence, maybe.  But I was once told that the definition of co-incidence is God's way of remaining anonymous.  I like that.  Okay, did I get your attention?  Curious about what happened?  If you are - read on.  

I went up north to Munds Park for our ward camp out this morning.  Dayna and Ali went up last night and I drove this morning by myself.  It's about a 2 hour drive, give or take, and I really enjoy the time by myself to listen to good music, to think and to ponder.  I actually had such wonderful thoughts about another topic for a new post to this blog.  A future post I'll get to soon.  Okay, back to my experience.  I did drive up and had a great few hours, then time to come home.  Dayna and Ali stayed in Munds Park to look up his aunt who was there.  So I started driving down the freeway, fast traffic, some curves and a few cliffs with drop offs.  You get the picture.  About 30 minutes into the drive, a thought popped into my head.  Not a voice, just a thought.  This thought was, "I need to get in the right lane and not speed".  Now I have to interject something here.  I grew up learning of promptings and such.  I've heard many stories, all of which I believe.  I've had thoughts before that may have just been thoughts.  But I've also had thoughts telling me I should do something, and I didn't.  One particular time, I had the same thought 3 times in a short period of time.  The thought was to call my boss about something.  I ignored it all 3 times, dismissing it.  It was such a little thing with not any real significance anyway.  Within a matter of minutes, it came to my attention in a real big way that I should have payed attention to that thought and called my boss.  It hit me like a ton of bricks.  It was no less than a prompting, not life saving, but a prompting that I ignored.  I took that experience and decided I never wanted to feel that way again.  I also wanted the Lord to know I was listening and not ignoring.  So, I have been trying to pay attention to those "thoughts", no matter how small or insignificant they seem.  Now back to the freeway.  I changed into the right lane and kept my speed down.  I pretty much stayed there, unless I needed to pass a really slow vehicle, and then I moved back to the right lane again.  It may not have been anything, but I was going to be safe, not sorry.  I kept driving.  Then I heard a noise that immediately caught my attention.  It was brief, only a second or two, but loud.  It sounded like my tire hit something that hit the metal of the van as well.  At least that's what it sounded like.  I immediately looked in the rear view mirror expecting to see something on the road that I had hit, something like tire tread from another vehicle.  Not a thing to see and nothing wrong with the way the van was driving.  I didn't feel it hit anything either.  I thought, do I pull over and check?   And a thought came back to me, "just keep driving."  So I did.  Now I have learned to be extremely aware of noise and vibrations and anything else that's just not right in my vehicles, and there was nothing at this point, except that brief noise that could have been nothing.  I felt comfortable to just keep driving.  As I got closer to home, I started to hear an extremely slight vibration in the van. 
So slight, it was almost unnoticeable. I didn't feel it, but I heard it, in the way my cup vibrated in the cup holder.   I was not quite where I-17 meets the 101 and I heard that same noise again.  The one where it sounded like my tire hit something.  This time it lasted a few seconds longer and maybe even a little louder.  Again my eyes immediately went to the mirror, but nothing to see.  I now felt/knew that there was something wrong, but what do I do. I stayed in the right lane, wondering do I get off the freeway now and check, or do I go ahead and take the 101.  A thought came back, "just keep driving, carefully, with both hands on the steering wheel".  Within a matter of minutes, I took the ramp onto the 101.  It was a single lane ramp and I had to slow my normal freeway speed down to take the ramp.  So did the cars behind me.  It was there that my left front tire blew.  It was not a convenient place for this to happen.  At least that's what I thought at the time.  There wasn't much of a shoulder, but I was able to control the van and get it to a spot where the tire could be changed.  Within a few minutes a police office pulled up behind me and called for their roadside assistance.  I was back on the road within about 30 minutes.  I don't know what might have happened if it blew going down the freeway with lots of other vehicles speeding all around me.  I don't know why I was  prompted to "just keep driving".  When I went to the tire shop later, the attendant told me he has never seen a tire blow like that, still in one piece but totally shredded.  Not sure what that means either.  I do know that I paid attention to the promptings and somehow knew that if and when I should pull over and check, I would know it.  I never felt panicked or scared, just a matter of fact feeling that something was going to happen and I was not alone.   I felt completely okay with that. 

So, what do you think -- weird, mystical or just plain lucky?  I think not.  I know not.  And I am grateful.

Oscar Thomas Parker

Time to write a little about my grandpa, Oscar Thomas Parker.  Throughout his life he was referred to as O.T. or Tom.  He was the oldest of 13, 10 boys and 3 girls.  Grandpa grew up in Lanark, Bear Lake, Idaho.  His grandparents John Parker and Ann Hubbard Parker, came to America in 1877 and settled in that area.  (Another story for a later post.)  Somewhere along the line, the Parker Family Organization was started, with elected officers and all.  They had a historian who would gather family history and put it all together.  My grandpa was very active in keeping all this going, and then my dad took over when grandpa was unable to.  As I was growing up, we had 2 family reunions a year that we never missed.  One was the John Parker reunion.  He was my great great grandpa, so this went back pretty far.  The other was the Oscar Fitzallen Parker/Annie Watkins Parker family reunion.  These were grandpa's parents.  It was always the bigger reunion, even though it didn't go back as far.  More people attended, that is.  Since most of my grandpa's 12 siblings stayed in Bear Lake there were lots of family around.  The ones who moved out of the valley quite often came to the reunion anyway, as it really was a big deal.  The historian would always have copies of pedigree charts with pictures and stories and such for all to take.  I have my dad's Book of Remembrance and it is HUGE.

Grandpa and his brothers grew up playing baseball all over the valley.  His dad would play with them too, and they would challenge other families or teams.  The girls would get up early on Saturday mornings to get their chores done so they could go alone with the boys and watch.  It is written that they were pretty good and would most often win.  They also won "largest family" awards for their family float in the different parades.  Grandpa was asked to serve a mission for the church and his dad didn't know how they would pay for it or get along without grandpa helping with the family income.  They were considered quite poor.  The bishop promised grandpa's dad that if he would let him go, the family debt would be paid off by the time grandpa returned.  So he went.  There was a piece of land that grandpa had purchased, prior to leaving, for $1000.  His dad took over the farming of that land and paid off the $1000 in the 1st year.  Then paid the rest of the family debt in the 2nd year from the earnings off that land. 

Grandpa dated a young girl named Alice Adeline Allen before his mission.  Although they were not engaged, and she was free to "go with other young men", she chose to wait on her missionary and they were married shortly after he returned.  They were very happy and soon were expecting a child.  At the end of this post, there will be scanned pages telling of the birth of this child.  It's an interview of grandpa's youngest sister, Arvilla.  The interview took place when Arvilla was elderly, but she was recounting the events as she remembered them.  She was eight when they happened, so keep in mind this is an interpretation of the events by a young child.  To summarize, both Alice and the baby Theo died as a result of this birth.  I grew up going to her grave every year on Memorial Day, as we also did with graves of other family members.  My dad always referred to her as Aunt Alice.  I later learned that she wasn't really his aunt, but his dad's first wife.  The baby buried with her was his half brother.  Grandpa later met and married Hilda Maud Young, my grandmother. 

In remembering things about grandpa, I have come to the conclusion that he was a quiet, gentle man.  I don't ever remember hearing him raise his voice. (And remember, I grew up on the same farm, just a stone's throw away from their house.)  Maybe he did, but I never heard it in his latter years. He died the summer before my senior year in high school, so I should have some significant memories.  But I find it hard to bring those memories to the surface.  I find that true of a lot of my childhood, so it's not just him.  I have a Book of Mormon that was his, given to him by the Wardboro Ward, as a token of thanks for his service as a ward clerk.  I think everyone in the ward signed the book, all 30 or so.  He also filled the last few pages (you know the blank few at the end) with sayings that he must have liked as he came across them.  I like that about grandpa.  It shows that he was a deep thinker and liked to ponder.  I too collect sayings that have particular meaning to me at the time.  One, that he has written in the book, is from a passenger on a ship that he traveled on.  It says, "Why fear death?  It will be the single most glorious thing we go through in this life".  I know he liked to read.  His books had check marks (numerous check marks) as he would finish reading a chapter, or section.  After his eyes got bad, grandma would read to him.  Then next to the check marks it would say, "finished reading to Tom on (date)".  He had great hair.  When I was young, I would "brush and style" his hair as only a 7-8 year old girl could.  He would just sit and let me do it.  When I would go to town with them in their car, we would end the trip with a stop at Neeley's for a frostie.  Neeley's was the only fast food place in town and a frostie was a soft serve ice cream cone.  Grandma and grandpa cleaned the church building for years along with taking care of the church lawn.  I would help them on occasion.  Grandpa loved his vegetable garden and his flower beds and they were always well kept and beautiful.  I like that about him too.  I loved it when the vegetables would ripen, so I could pick and eat.  My favorites were turnips and peas.  I never have known if turnips were meant to be eaten raw, but I love them that way, just peel and eat like an apple.  The raspberries were definately a real treat too.  I remember the day grandpa died, while weeding his garden, on his hands and knees, between the raspberry rows.  I remember the day of his funeral and how completely depressed and dark I felt after we came home. I don't remember feeling that way about any deaths since.  I wonder if that's because his death was the first close family death I experienced.  Maybe because of my age too.  I think it all makes a difference.  I saw my grandpa again, along with grandma, many years later.  Yes, after grandma died too.  It was in the form of a dream and it was marvelous.

Oscar Fitzallen Parker Family

Grandpa seated, front and center, with his mom, dad and siblings.

My dad's brother, Keith, grandpa and my dad.  

Hilda and Tom Parker

This is how I remember grandpa.

What a sweet man.

Alice Adeline Allen Parker and Oscar Thomas Parker

Following are 2 interviews of Arvilla Parker McMurray.  The 2nd interview listed also includes  remarks about my grandma, Hilda Parker.  Arvilla's memory of grandma reaching America has a few different twist to the man who came to "claim" her than my version, (relayed in the post about grandma).  Not sure which one is the most accurate.  Interesting how stories evolve.