It's like riding a bike. On ice.

You're Canadian. You can skate, right? Here's where I remind you that I was born and raised in England, with English, Scottish and Irish heritage as far as the eye can see. I immigrated to Canada, and despite skates for Christmas (thanks Mum & Dad!) and skating lessons here and there (when in Rome)  I was never great. Televised skating, while entertaining, makes the endeavor seem entirely too easy and has been proven to inflate one's expectations of what they will be able to do on ice. 

But it's always a fun time and so we opted to go for a spin. Brandon kindly offered for us to ride around the rink without him and Brenda selflessly stayed home with the babies, so I was glad to be able to focus solely on Teagan...and staying upright.

She surprised me and was quite a natural. We did rely a bit on the stabilizers, but she was insistent that she try on her own too. Her cousins took her around a bit and were so sweet to her. Most of the things I'd learned as a child came back to me. Except how to stop. I never really learned how to stop. I managed to skate backwards and didn't ever fall on my bottom - I would have patted myself on the back, but I'm confident that would have made me fall, so I gave myself a mental congratulations instead. Wise choice, indeed.

We Wish You a Merry Christmas

I may be cliche, but that won't stop Christmas from being my favourite time of year. And especially the time leading up to Christmas. (I can't be the only one who feels a little depressed on Christmas day when breakfast is over and all the presents are opened.) Which makes it all the more important to remember the real reason for the season and to reach out to others and try to help them feel the Spirit of Christmas. I admittedly was no great at that this year. With our living situation being temporary, I didn't put as much effort into other people's happiness and well-being as perhaps I should have. I'm disappointed in myself. Next year, for sure.

I did, however, try pretty hard to make my family's Christmas a happy one. And online shopping? A game changer. My mother-in-law has Amazon Prime and I have a Target Red card, so free shipping was our friend this year. And with 10 people celebrating Christmas together, the packages were rolling in. Our porch was littered with boxes and I had to wonder what the postman thought about us and whether we were operating some sort of underground toy operation. And while we weren't the four children (well, 8 if you include Brandon, Manda, Mat and I) certainly were treated well. Some highlights included: Disney Princess Barbie dolls, a ball pit, My Little Pony Pops, a Mickey Mouse bowling set, purses, balls, boots, movies and books. Lots of books. I went a little nuts with the books because I don't fee like you can have too many of those. Thought I thought otherwise when we were moving. I went on a bit of an Elephant and Piggie kick this Christmas, as they are perfect early readers, awesomely funny and I found a secret sale on them for nearly half the price I found them everywhere else. One of my favourite gifts from Buddy was a second hand copy of a parenting book I loved and renewed from the library almost 10 times. It's called Soft Spoken Parenting - something I really need help with - and the best part of receiving this book is that it came from a penitentiary. Yes, I do hope it serves me better than it served the felons there. There's still time to be a better parent - what a gift to realize that.

Teagan was both easy and maddening to buy for this year because she is into everything (Strawberry Shortcake, Lalaloopsies, Tinkerbell, Play-Doh, you name it.) Her interests changed daily and while she only made one specific request early in the season, she'd forgotten about it by the time Christmas came, so I returned the doll that poops charms for a bracelet. (I'm ashamed to have bought it in the first place.) She didn't make any requests of Santa until a few days before Christmas and then it was a teddy bear we passed in the Dollar Store (hallelujah!) She's lucky Santa even found out what she wanted since she outright refused to have anything to do with him at our ward's Christmas party. There was more screaming than you'd care for at church. Mason didn't mind so much.
We had the traditional Richards Christmas Eve dinner of steak - a much-loved and looked-forward-to tradition indeed. And - stroke of brilliance on Mom Richards' part - having the kids eat first and the older ones watch the younger ones while the adults ate later in peace. It was awesome. Then came the relatively new addition of the Family Talent Show. By this point, Mason was an absolute beast, so he went to bed while Brandon, Teagan and I performed a rousing rendition of Jingle Bells on the handbells. It was moving. All our minutes of practice were worth it. And at last, the world's most reverent reenactment of the Nativity - with more barnyard animals being added each year.
Then it was off to bed while Brandon and I scurried about getting things ready for the next morning. Which came all too soon for us. We couldn't sleep past 5:00 in the morning! It was maddening. We were excited, sure, but that wasn't what got us up. Old age, perhaps? So we spent our time as any couple of sound mind would when the house is quiet on Christmas morning - we watched A Christmas Story.

Our kids were the last ones up - Mason slept longer than he's ever slept, the stinker. We chatted with my family a bit and enjoyed time with Mat and Manda and their kids who were visiting from Kentucky. We enjoyed playing with all of our new toys and reading our new books and just being together. My Dad and Kristina and Pablo sent gifts for the kids (thank you!) and Grandma Greats sent us money for them (thank you!) I need to get on top of thank you cards this year. More than what we received, we had fun giving this year. We mailed a package to my family - hand drawn pictures for my siblings, a picture Teagan drew of G-Pop turned into a mousepad, and a puzzle collage of photos of GG and the kids from our visit this year. I think they liked them. We also sent a hand made hug card to Kristina and Pablo, and both Grandma Greats, complete with a stack of photos of the kids - none of them particularly cute enough to show off to friends, but at least we are keeping in touch. We made a recipe book, replaced a popcorn popper (really exciting stuff this year) and gave Mat and Manda a date via a game and gift card for deliciousness. We aren't all that creative, but we had fun. Once again, I tanked when it came to buying clothes for Buddy. I dropped more than I should on a WSU sweater at the local sports shop's (sorry excuse for a) "Black Friday Sale" and he didn't even love it. Initially I was heartbroken that he wanted to return it (and I had to ask - he wouldn't come out and tell me) but when we found a better one at Goodwill for a fraction of the cost, I considered that a bit of a Christmas miracle - especially when we got six way cool WSU items for less than the cost of the one I'd originally gifted him. Winning!

I do miss my family a little more at Christmas time. Our traditions are different than most - my favourite being my Dad playing classic rock songs instead of Christmas music. That's right, we opened presents to Ozzy Osbourne, Michael Jackson and Pink Floyd and it was awesome. I'm excited to get into our own house and get traditions of our own established. Maybe add a little Hanson to the lineup? (Don't tell my Dad - he'd be so disappointed.) 

Lewiston, Idaho: The City of Lights.

Okay, so no one has ever actually called it that. More often than not, it's called variations of "Ugh, what's that smell?" or "Ewww. It's stinky here", thanks to their paper mill that floods the town with the aroma of sulfur. But they do boast quite a Christmas light display in December. We* ventured to Lewiston to take over a pizza place and look at the lights.

 

*and lately when I say "we" I'm often referring to the entire Richards family - most pictured above. Though the parents and a twin are missing from the photo and we have Manda & Matt and their two boys who were visiting for the holidays. But just to give you an idea of what our group looks like, it's generally 10 adults and 15 children. We get noticed.

It was beautiful. And, quite against the odds, peaceful - up until the moment we lost Teagan. It feels like a rite of passage as a mother to lose a child for a few panic stricken minutes, but perhaps some of you reading this will click your tongue in disapproval and deny that it's ever happened to you. (We can still be friends, despite your judgment. And the fact that you've just patted yourself on the back for having never let it happen to you has just ensured you will experience the terror at a later date.) Regardless, it happened to us. It's actually rather a miracle it hasn't happened sooner, especially with the entourage we run with these days. But it was dark, there were children everywhere, and being bundled up head to toe in winter gear tends to make children difficult to distinguish from one another. She was there one minute - jumping up and down on what can only be described as a Lights Lights Revolution tarp with squares that correspond with lights on a gigantic tree (we were all enthralled) and she was gone the next.

Fortunately, our built-in search party of 29 was able to locate her after a few minutes. Bless Eric's heart, Teagan and his son, Sam, had trotted off toward the train, in the opposite direction of where everyone else was heading and so he followed them (the responsible parents that he and Tara are) but didn't have a way of letting us know that they were with him. So we fanned out, texted back and forth with everyone and eventually discovered her happily wiling away the evening on the train she'd asked about earlier - whether or not it was real. 

Those were the longest few minutes of my life. Partly because I was reviewing all of the times I'd been upset with her and raised my voice (it happens a lot) and partly because I've been watching too much TV and had entirely too many terrible scenarios running through my brain. We live in a scary world! There was also part of my brain reviewing the scene from Cheaper by the Dozen when the Baker family is searching for one of their 12 children and they throw back a line someone had used against them: "12 is a big number." What's bigger than 12? 29. Well, 27 if you exclude the babies who didn't do much in the way of searching, and 25 if you don't count Eric and Sam who were with her, but 25 family members walking up and down the park calling Teagan's name over and over really warmed my heart and made me grateful to be part of such a wonderful family.  I told myself to be calm when we did finally find her (and not the stereotypical wagging of the finger accompanied by a lecture that started with "Don't you EVER do that again, young lady!" - there would be time for that later.) Instead, I gave her the biggest, longest hug of her life and said a silent prayer thanking Heavenly Father for her safety. Let's just say we stuck close together after that. And Mason stayed in his stroller.

After the happy reunion, we recreated a picture from two years ago and lamented how much we'd changed for the wider. Getting fit in 2015, friends!

We had a lovely, but frigid time looking at the lights display and the 45 minutes car ride home was actually one of the most wonderful times we'd had together as a family of 4 yet. Brandon had to meet us there because he works until 6:30 but his mom offered to drive his car home so we could ride together. Inspired. The kids laughed all the way home at my spinning around in the front seat at random times, singing along to a Sesame Street CD. Mason's smile was the biggest I'd seen it and Teagan was a sweetheart the whole way, despite both of them being cold and awake well past bedtime.

It was one of those simple moments that touched my heart and testified to me the importance of families. With the kids being so little and requiring so much, I'd hard pressed to think of too many occasions that I'd describe as "a marvelous time together" (Elder Richard G. Scott has encouraged us to hold Family Home Evening weekly and just have a marvelous time together) but this would be one of those times and I hope I always remember how happy it was, how happy my family makes me and how grateful I am that we can be together for eternity...and not dilly dallying around, just looking at the lights.

O Christmas Tree

Something we haven't done in quite some time is choose a Christmas tree...outside. I got to choose a tree last year from the comfort of Aisle C12 at Target. 

Both Brandon and I grew up with authentic, fresh from the great outdoors Christmas trees and enjoyed the hunt for the perfect tree. Some of my fondest Christmas memories revolve around bundling up like the brother in A Christmas Story, and traipsing up and down what seemed like a very organized forest, only able to move my arms enough to point in the general direction of a tree I thought looked good. My Dad transformed into a lumberjack and hacked down the tree of choice with ease. I remember watching the trees go through the machine that envelopes them in a net, the hot chocolate, the snow angels, the pine needles everywhere, the funny sizes and shapes we ended up with and our homemade ornaments finally adorning the prickly needles. I don't remember having to trim it, chop off more of the trunk, watering it, etc. - all the adult jobs that apparently I inherited when I grew up. Bah humbug. So while it may cause my dear ol' Dad to shake his head and wonder what he did wrong, I have insisted on an artificial tree since marriage - partly budgetary, partly laziness. I like to think of it as reserving those fun times and memories for the family I came from. My poor kids will have to find different, more plastic memories.

Grandma and Grandpa Richards have a tradition as well and still hunt for the perfect tree on their friend's Christmas tree lot. It was a beautiful day when we left and was quite nearly blizzard conditions when we got there - 5 minutes away. Mason would have been fine if the wind hadn't swirled all the snow directly in his face, so he and I gracefully bowed out soon after we arrived, taking Grandma with us "for moral support." He looked for a Christmas tree like a little man - a very cozy warm little man - waiting it out in the truck, reading books and looking out the window at the poor saps freezing their appendages off and inhaling snowflakes.

We did pull him out at the end and he loved it, once the wind settled down. He tasted it, crawled in it and rolled around happily, trying to catch it. He had two firsts in one day - snow and a meet and greet with the dog from The Sandlot. The Woodbury's dog took an interest in Mason, as did several onlookers that I caught in a photo of him taste tasting the white stuff. He gets a lot of double takes. Particularly when he cheeks are squeezed into a pom pom hat.

We did manage to get a few cute photos of the whole thing and had some fun. We'll always have the memories - and a beautiful artificial tree waiting for us in storage.

'I Love to See the Temple' isn't on Sirius.

"Bye, Mom and Dad! I love you, Mom and Dad!"

"We love you too, Teagan."

"I love you too, Mom and Dad!"

You'd think we were going to the moon. Just 2 and a half hours to the temple, but what a send off. She had tears in her eyes and a very concerned look on her face, but when we told her where we were going, she calmed down a bit.

One of the only concessions we made moving to the Palouse was sacrificing proximity to a temple. But we picked up a ton of family, happy to babysit even for the 6 hours it takes. We've been able to go a couple of times since arriving, both times with Tara and Eric - Brandon's sister and brother in law. And it has been awesome. We listen to a steady stream of 80s on 8 on Sirius Radio. While that may not seem particularly appropriate for the occasion, as soon as Brandon and I hopped in the car, Bon Jovi's 'Livin' On a Prayer' came on. What could be more appropriate?

After the session, as we were backing out of our spot, Belinda Carlisle graced us with 'Heaven is a Place on Earth'. The perfect soundtrack for our trip. With the exception of 'Angel is a Centerfold' getting stuck in Brandon's head the first trip and the questionable anthem popping up on the second. I suppose one could argue a religious undertone, however - angels and what not.

We make a night of out of it and eat somewhere - Thai food the first time and skimpy Applebee's salads the second. The economy has not been good to them - I remember them being huge! The only thing to do to quell our hunger (leaving a restaurant hungry is a bit ridiculous) was to stop in at Carl's Jr. and have a second dinner.

Tara and Eric are very kind to me and have allotted time for a trip to Target as well. I'm not what you would call high maintenance, but not having one within an hour's distance hurts my heart a little. But the eternal perspective I gain serving in the temple always makes me remember what's important. It's holding on to that perspective throughout the month that's hard.

Buying {and Moving} and Selling

Things didn't happen in the order I thought they would, but what can you do? We bought. We moved. Then we sold. 

As soon as we decided that Brandon would take the new job, we contacted the real estate agent who helped us find our house less than 3 years ago. He was really confident we could sell it for more than we bought it for which was wonderful news. So we cleaned up, decluttered (by the way, I've never enjoyed living in my house so much!) and put her on the market. And waited. We must have shown the house more than a dozen times without receiving any offers, which made them even more annoying. Showings were maddening - my heart stopped every time the phone rang. I'd hang up with an agent and look around at the piles of laundry, dirty dishes and toys dotting the floor like stars and could feel my blood pressure rise. Getting two small children out of an immaculate house at a moment's notice was a tall order and I began resenting the strangers who were traipsing through my house and secretly (or not so secretly) hated them when I found out they wouldn't be making an offer. Why didn't they see what we saw the moment we walked through the door? I was taking it personally and couldn't seem to take the emotion out of the process.

There were some awkward moments during the process. The most awkward being the time that someone knocked on the door while I was feeding the kids lunch. I tiptoed to the door to glance through the peephole, only to have the door unlock while I was leaning against it. In the millisecond I had to look at my potential assailants, I noticed the man had a clipboard and a couple with him, so instead of preparing myself to take on an intruder, I was preparing myself to look nonchalant while unwelcome guests invaded my home. "Oh!" I exclaimed, out of breath from my leap around the corner. He jumped and asked whether I'd heard the knock. Not the best at thinking on my feet, and also wanting him to feel like a jerk for knocking once and entering a house WITHOUT AN APPOINTMENT, I lied (don't lie, kids!) and said I hadn't. I asked if he had called to make an appointment and he said he had. I told him he hadn't called me, but wanted to be polite to potential buyers and SELL THE HOUSE, so offered to take the kids and leave them to have a look. I apologized for the state of the house (fortunately we hadn't completely destroyed it that day) and whisked two pajama clad kids out of the house and into the car with no idea where we'd go or what we'd do. Because the whole situation was a bit of a fiasco I pulled around the corner and called my agent in hopes that he'd be able to help me figure out who dropped the ball and whether this guy was legitimate. I didn't go far, in case something went wrong. He told me that he hadn't gotten any calls, so he was lying, but that they would have his information from the card he had to swipe to get into the lock box. I pulled into the Statens' driveway down the street (as I'd done with a few other last minute showings) and watched until they came out. They didn't make an offer, but they didn't rob me blind, so things worked out I suppose. But not my best day.

I got stood up once which made me absolutely furious. I cleaned the house top to bottom, ushered the kids out the door and went to the library to pass the time. I came back an hour after their appointment and got a text as I walked in that they wouldn't be coming to see the house, they'd gone with another one. Letting me know an hour after they missed their appointment is of absolutely no use to me, Agent Zero. I assumed they'd been and gone and could have knocked them over the head with my dirty dishes when I found out they hadn't come at all.

It went on like this for weeks until the time came for us to move. We packed up, cleaned up and got out of there, our agent promising to host open houses in the future, which I thought would be a huge help. They could have been very helpful - if anyone had shown up. I'm not saying my agent didn't do anything to advertise them, but I really don't think he did. I asked him to let me know when they were being held so I could put it out there on my social media, so he gave me a tentative date but couldn't confirm any details until the morning of. Less than effective. Apparently if you don't advertise an open house, no one knows you're having an open house - didn't need my degree in Marketing & Advertising to figure that one out. We thought a few times about finding a new realtor but thought there were some rules and regs as far as payment goes and decided to stick it out.

We left a key with our sweet neighbours, The Statens, and hired their son to check in on things and weed every once in a while. Of course, a sprinkler broke in the backyard less than 3 weeks after we moved out which cost hundreds to fix. I lost sleep on a regular basis worrying about what else was going wrong and how the hooligans across the street were treating our house now that we were gone. If you'll remember, they didn't particularly care that we were there in the first place, so perhaps it didn't make much of a difference. Katie let me know that one of the older brothers was parking his hideous truck directly in front of the driveway, which was sad to hear. How am I supposed to convince people to buy my house when there's a thuggy truck blocking the entrance? 

Punks aside, after lowering the price numerous times we received an offer from an investment company, $12,000 under our already lowered asking price. We thought about it and we so relieved at the thought of having the house off our hands that we sighed deep sighs and countered reasonably. Apparently they had multiple offers out there and had already gone with another one by the time we got back to them. Huge bummer. So, the house sat for another month. After a few showings, I was told the carpet needed a little TLC so we hired a friend to clean them, sinking another couple of hundred dollars into it. When we still didn't have any offers, our agent suggested simultaneously lowering the price AND closing off the fourth bedroom (which we had staged as an office, since it didn't have a door) AND painting the exterior of the house, which had some mismatched patch-ups dating back to before we owned it. That's a lot 'o' moolah we weren't interested in spending. It seemed like a huge gamble to do all those things at once to potentially have someone come in under asking price, not to mention trying to coordinate it from out of town. So we took a risk and just lowered the price without making those changes. At the end of September, an offer came in from another investor. While I would have loved for my home to be loved by a little family looking to plant roots, in the end I really didn't care who bought it next as long as they bought it! The offer was lower than the first one we had, but by this time, we realized that we probably wouldn't get anything higher as the market is so saturated, but we would still come out on top so we accepted. After some back and forth about things they'd like fixed (they asked for $500 in repairs including everything from replacing lightbulbs - WHAT?! - to stretching the carpet) we signed papers on September 29th and became ex homeowners. Oh, what a relief it was. It was nerve wracking signing a squillion papers without our agent (we had to visit a local notary who had little experience with title papers) but apparently we did it right, because the house transferred ownership that day.

That didn't stop us from receiving utility bills, though. I asked our realtor whether we shut off all the utilities or if they just get transferred into the new owners' names. He informed me that a two day grace period was customary and polite, so with reservations, I waited three days. Only one of the 5-6 companies had heard from the new owners and others told me their next appointment to shut off the service was a week from then. The water company specifically said that there's no way they could rack up a significant bill in that time so I shouldn't worry about it. But when the bill came, I worried. We typically paid about $20 a month for water (I know, right?!) and the next bill came in at almost $130. No. I called and explained my situation to them, to which they replied that I was still responsible for it. I tried to explain to them that the house was no longer mine but it didn't seem to help. "There must have been a leak" she said. That's too bad, but even if I'd known about the leak, I could not access the home because it doesn't belong to me anymore. They walked through to inspect things on the 29th and all seemed well enough for them to sign papers, so the leak did not occur while we owned the home. She told me she would take it to a supervisor but when I hadn't heard in several days, I called back and they told me the home had transferred ownership and I wasn't responsible. Phew! What a headache. But, in the end, we bought low and sold high(er) without making any real improvements, and have enough for a down payment on our next love nest.

It's make your mamas proud time!

I kind of like Halloween. I don't like carving pumpkins. So when Shawn & Annie's family offered to host a Family Home Evening and carve pumpkins all together, I was all for it - knowing that I wouldn't have to do much. I think Brandon was relieved to miss it as well. (He's working 4 days a week, 10 hours a day if I've forgotten to mention it. He leaves at 7:00 AM and returns at 7:00 PM Monday - Thursday. The days get long, but when Friday rolls around it all seems worth it. For the most part.)

 

Dr. Richards and Dr. Richards put their surgery skills to the test (with the aid of a drill - genius!) and sculpted the most precise jack-o-lantern features you ever did see.

Being Mason's first Halloween (he missed it last year by hours) he thought the whole pumpkin thing was pretty cool.

 Until he found out it had a face. Game over.

Annie came up with the idea for Teagan's darling kitty face and it was perfect for her. Mason, when you're looking back on this photo and wonder about your pumpkin - it was a gift from one of Brandon's patients and I didn't want it was too sentimental to carve.

Not sure how many years we have left to make family Halloween costumes work, so we wanted to make it work while we still can. I give you, the Wreck-It Richards.

For fear of someone reading my family yearbook in the future when movies like Wreck-It Ralph are "classics" or completely forgotten (but let's face it - Disney will be around until the end of time) I wanted to give you a little bit of reference for our costumes.

I think we did pretty well. But you have to have seen the movie for our costumes to make any sense, and I thought that since it came out in 2012, that wouldn't be a problem. But I was surprised at people's reactions at the Ward Trunk or Treat on the 30th. Only a few had seen the movie. The fact that Brandon only made it for the last 15 minutes didn't help our cause. In hindsight, I looked like a weirdo, but it is what it is. We owned it regardless.

I grabbed a $5 witch's wig from Wal-Mart, dollar store stickers and hair clips, a hoodie we happened to get on clearance months ago without having thought about costumes, a tutu she had in her closet (or is it repertoire?) and the perfect leggings from Grandma to complete the ensemble. I didn't know how the wig was going to go over - the girl won't wear anything at my request, so I made sure to have her help me in hopes she might feel some ownership. And she owned it. Wore it the better part of the day. She was perfect.

Fix-It Felix Jr. JR. came together nicely. A hat from a cousin, clothes he already owned, a darling pair of boots from Wal-Mart that he can use when he actually begins to walk, a Batman belt and hammer borrowed from cousins and some cutting and pasting of the Fix-It Felix logo and he looked the part.

We hit the ward's Trunk or Treat on Thursday night and hit the pavement with Shawn and two of Teagan's cousins on Friday night for a little while. Despite Trick or Treaters showing up at our house around 4:00 in the afternoon - really? - we didn't leave until it was dark. Mason was stuck in the stroller and couldn't have cared less about the whole ordeal, so once we got up the hill to Annie's house, he and I called it a night (this little man has gotten me out of Trick or Treating early two years in a row - thanks, Faced!) while Brandon and Teagan pushed on to the mansion up the hill with "the other Richards". They were rewarded with a full sized bag of Skittles and ended up home not long after Felix and I. I guess Ralph didn't want to go pee pee in his big boy slacks.

We Like to Move It Move It.

It's been a few months now, but for the sake of saving some confusion when years from now someone has enough time to kill to read my journal, I thought I should mention the fact that WE MOVED. Small detail, I know.

Brandon has been keeping in touch with the owners of a physical therapy clinic down the road from his family in Pullman, Washington where he completed an internship shortly before graduating from UNLV. They set the bar as far as jobs were concerned. He loved everything about working there - the staff, the atmosphere, the patient base, the location - everything. So when they let him know about an opening, he jumped at the chance. We prayerfully considered it and decided to accept their offer of employment and move our wee family there for him to start work at the beginning of August. 

It was definitely bittersweet. I was really excited about the prospect of moving closer to family, but at the same time didn't feel quite ready to leave Las Vegas. I'd made wonderful friends there. Such wonderful friends, that they hosted a Bon Voyage party for me on July 16th. I was so touched that so many of them came to bid me adieu. We had a "roast" of sorts, but said nice things about me. I cried as much as if they'd actually roasted me. It was so sweet to hear people's favourite memories or things about me. Nothing like an ugly cry in front of a room full of people - thankfully they were all my friends. They wrote me kind little notes for me to read after I moved, but I must confess I read them as soon as I got home. More ugly crying. In a place like Las Vegas where most of us don't have family around, friends become your family and I have been so well take care of for the six years we lived there. Meals, babysitting - sometimes overnight, furniture, girls' nights, baby clothes and gear, maternity clothes, prayers, cleaning my house to name a few of the things they've given or done for me. I love these ladies!

 Top: Jen, Christina, Lisa, Natalie, Chelsea, Layne & Sarah

Middle: Rushelle, Sara, Jane (and Conrad), Kelli, Cami, Sheena, Janet (and Eden), Katie & Emily

Bottom: Megan, Danette, Kelli & Shali

We moved to Las Vegas for Brandon to complete UNLV's Physical Therapy program in 2008 and in the more than 6 years we've been here, have lived in 3 different houses and 4 different wards - Painted Mountain for two weeks before it split to create our next ward - the Southern Hills Ward and when we moved into our house in 2011 we moved into the Coronado Ward (which was basically heaven on earth) which split a year after we moved in to form our most recent ward, the Blue Diamond Ward. We became parents here, twice over (at Southern Hills Hospital), bought our first home and had more than 6 years worth of memories here. It's the end of an era.

I've compiled a small list (there are so many more, but if I'm going to keep up with life I need to be brief) of things we will miss and not miss about Sin City...

WILL MISS

• Entertainment
• Weather
• Visitors
• Friends as family
• Location, location, location
• Telling people I live in Las Vegas (always a conversation starter)
  
• Cheap, cheap housing
  
• Amazing libraries with a super convenient interlibrary loan system
  

WON'T MISS

• Entertainment
• Weather
• Visitors
• Being far from family
• Not having a backyard

For those of you smarter than the average bear, you'll notice that several of the items are on both lists. You see, we will miss being in a major hub for entertainment - we were able to see a few shows over the years (KA, The Lion King, Blue Man Group, Donny & Marie, La Reve, Panda and Phantom (x2)) and visit other venues (Siegfried & Roy's Secret Garden, Red Rock, Madame Tussaud's, M&M's Chocolate Factory, Hoover Dam, Disney on Ice, and Shark Reef reasonably priced or free, being locals. There was always lots (of skin) to see, but Brandon was in school for half of our life here and so we were on a pretty tight budget and only really visited the Strip when we were showing visitors around. I won't miss some of the kinds of entertainment and billboards prevalent in Sin City. Our location was pretty perfect - just 15 minutes from the Strip - far enough not to deal with the sights on a daily basis, but close enough that we could go and see the appropriate sites when we wanted to.

I will miss the beautiful weather from October to May - swimming in the fall and wearing flip flops in winter. This may sound silly, but I won't miss the year round sunshine. I know, woe is me, it's too sunny. But I am looking forward to season changing, snow at Christmas and seeing a little more rain and clouds. Boo hoo, I know. 

I will miss friends and family that come to visit and take advantage of the entertainment and the weather and those that swung by on their way elsewhere. I won't miss being contacted by Facebook "friends" I haven't spoken to in years asking for a trip itinerary, must sees and how to get discounts. Visitors that weren't visiting me, but want me to serve as a travel agent. It got annoying.

Regardless of what I will miss and won't miss, here we are moving on.

We put our house on the market in June, shortly after he was offered the job. The house process deserves an entry of its own, so stay tuned. I was on Facebook like a mad woman, selling everything from photo albums and toys to kitchen tables and bookshelves, trying to make a few bucks and clear some space at the same time. I chipped away at the packing over a few weeks, with kind friends volunteering to watch the kids a few hours at a time and others helping me pack and patch holes. Brandon had just a couple of days between his last day of work and moving day, so we spent many an evening watching episodes of 'Wings' we'd borrowed from the library, since we'd boxed up all our DVDs. We wrapped everything up and tied up loose ends in order to roll out of our driveway for the last time on July 18th. Brandon's parents and brother-in-law, Eric, were kind enough to fly down to help us make the move. We picked them up from the airport and Brenda, the kids and I were on the road within the hour. We left the men to finish up kid-free and that was the best idea ever presented to us. Brandon's Dad has an incredible Can Do attitude, so instead of waiting until the Elder's Quorum (a group of men in the LDS church) came to pack us up, they loaded the truck themselves with the help of one kind brother who came early and with years of experience packing UPS trucks - word has it he was a genius. So, the Elder's Quorum came as scheduled to find an empty house, so they cleaned instead. The men of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints are renown for their moving abilities - there's no better time to be a member of the church, quite frankly. It was a bit of a leap of faith for me to leave the house in a shambles, trusting my husband and his friends to take care of everything, but it really was a great decision in the end and I'm told things went really smoothly.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Mom Richards and I hit the road. We said last goodbyes to the Statens who had been watching the kids and even saved ourselves a trip when Natalie stopped by their house at the same time. So one round of tears was all it took. They have both been so sweet to us and I hope we remain lifelong friends in spite of the distance. Me being a silly, sentimental goose hadn't really considered the fact that the last time I left my house would be the last time I left my house. I would have felt dumb stopping by just to say goodbye to our first home (I know it's just a house, but I will miss it!) but Teagan needed to use the bathroom, so it was a great opportunity for me to do a goodbye lap, dodging boxes in and out of every room, taking a step or two inside to remember the wonderful things that had happened there. Stop laughing.

We officially started making our way out of town and Mom drove so I could tend to the kids. We talked about trading, but she powered through and I was so pleasantly surprised by Teagan and Mason - the latter having never been in his carseat longer than 1/2 an hour. A two day trip could have been a nightmare, but they both rallied. Not much sleeping got done, so I had to take a picture to remind myself that it did indeed happen on occasion.

I spent weeks agonizing over car friendly activities and gathering things for T to do and M to eat and wouldn't you know it, Teagan played with Silly Putty for over an hour of our 18 hour trip!She also read some Chipmunk books and watched several of the Chipmunk movies - thank goodness she was in a phase and I could find super cheap Chipmunk themed things to entertain her with. She also drew a lot and snacked a lot. Almost as much as I snacked.

We stopped in Cedar City after about 3 hours and stretched our legs at a park. I took a page out of my Auntie Louise's book and played pixie with Teagan. I remember when I was little going for walks with my Mum's best friend Louise and she had gone ahead earlier in the day and planted little surprises from the pixies for my sister and I to find. We ate it up. So I found some Easter egg jewels on clearance and planned to hide one each time we stopped the car, in an effort to make getting back into the car a little more appealing. My pixie story worked fairly well until Teagan saw the whole stash of jewels on Mason's side of the van. Cover blown. But the jellybeans still tasted good, so she played along. Bless her.

We wanted to at least make it to Provo (about 6 hours away) on our first day and we made it to Orem (about 6 hours and 5 minutes away) before everyone melted down. Brenda put us up at the La Quinta Inn there and while we put forth the effort to haul the playpen up to the third floor and set it up, Mason AND Teagan insisted on "sleeping" with me. They slept a little. I slept less. Thank goodness I wasn't driving. Though when we met up with the men (a happy coincidence) the next day, they had it worse than I did. They left the house Friday night instead of Saturday morning and stayed in a teeny little town in Northern Nevada whose decent hotels were all full. So they found themselves at the Motel 6, asking whether they had a room that would sleep 3. After some deliberation, the clerk said "Yeah! I think there's a spot on the floor big enough for someone to sleep." They got two rooms. Two nasty, rundown rooms without the kind of continental breakfast spread we enjoyed. Poor guys.

There wasn't much for poor little Mace Face to do, so he started to struggle towards the end of our two day trip. I nimbly and gracefully made my way back to the middle row (translation: I hurled myself in a whirlwind of limbs with a soundtrack of various unearthly grunts and groans towards what I hoped was the middle row of the van and landed with a thud, crunched between two car seats. At least Mason enjoyed me being back there -  that was new.

 

All in all, the trip went much better than anticipated - thanks to Brenda for driving. It got windy towards the end of the trip and she felt the van pulling a little. We'd been filling up that pesky tire every chance we could, but it didn't quite make it and we could feel it limping a little as we slowed down to drive through town. When we pulled into the driveway, we were astonished to find not one but TWO flat tires. Who knows how many miles we'd driven, the tire waiting to deflate entirely but as Brenda puts it - angels pushed us those last few miles. Indeed they did.

Speaking of angels, as our little van limped onto the homestretch on Saturday night the street was lined with brothers, sisters, nieces and nephews clapping and cheering and pointing to a beautiful handmade sign welcoming us home. I was in tears. Of the two surprises, this was my favourite. The men were only minutes behind us and even before greeting everyone, Buddy collapsed in the grass. The blessed green stuff we haven't seen much of since 2008. He was overcome with emotion. And fatigue.

All our earthly belongings sat in the moving van in the Richards' ample driveway until Monday night when the family men and the Elder's Quorun here (what did I tell you about those guys?) moved it all IN THE POURING RAIN into a storage unit across town. Some of my stuff may be growing new stuff when we unearth it in a few months, but most of it seemed unscathed.

So here we are in Moscow - Idaho, not Russia - waiting for someone in Las Vegas to fall in love with our home like we did. It's taking longer than I anticipated, but I'm assured it will sell. Until then, we have wonderful friends down the street looking after it (and shooing away the hoodlums who are still out there in full force - blocking our driveway and everything) and lovely family taking care of us here. Does moving closer to Brandon's family make me miss mine that much more? Yes. Am I a little worried about starting over and making new friends and that I'll lose touch with my friends in Vegas? A little. But so far it's been great and we feel that we've been directed here by a loving Heavenly Father who knows our needs better than we do and loves us with an incomprehensible love. So I'll quote Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin here and say: "Come what may and love it."

Do you know they know?

Sounds a lot like one of my favourite lines from my favourite sitcoms (FRIENDS - the old "They don't know we know they know we know! Anyone?) but my thoughts are a lot more serious than my title suggests. 

Since my Grandad died in June, I've found myself wondering whether he knew how much I loved him. It occurred to me as I was writing about his funeral that so often we say the nicest things about those we love after they leave us. What a shame that so many of the wonderful things we think about them remain unsaid and unheard. So while I anticipate my sweet Grandmas to be here for years and years, I thought I'd take the opportunity to tell them how much I love and admire them NOW.

I will be the first to admit that I haven't been a very good granddaughter to my Grandma in England. But let me tell you that Philomena Haw is one awesome grandma. We moved to Canada when I was almost 7 years old and I didn't see her again in the flesh until precisely twenty years later when I was nearly 27 and 6 months pregnant. I looked a little different. But in those twenty years, I cannot remember her missing a birthday or Christmas. She always called and always sent a beautiful card with British pounds tucked into it. As a matter of fact, most of our spending money on the trip we took in 2010 came from the birthday and holiday funds I'd been collecting from my sweet grandparents over the years. Not only did her cards arrive every time, they arrived on time. Meaning she'd have to think about all six members of our family's birthdays weeks ahead of time. Whenever I see her beautiful loopy, swoopy handwriting in a large envelope in my mailbox, I know she's been thinking about me for nearly a month already and it warms my heart.

Now that I have children of my own, she is incredibly diligent about their birthdays and special occasions as well. We've moved a lot over the last few years and she has gone out of her way to track us down and make sure that her great grandchildren know she loves them. My only having a cell phone has made it incredibly difficult for her to get through to me - never mind the fact that we are a full 8 hours behind her and I think she tried for hours to catch me on my birthday last year. She is amazing.We write back and forth on occasion and I send a scant few photos of the kids, but I feel terrible every time because I haven't taken a "let's show my friends" photo of my kids in their lives. They tend to be less "aww" and more "haha". One day I'll send her one worthy of a frame. My sweet cousins who live near her have been wonderful about relaying messages back and forth via Facebook and I'm forever grateful to Laura and Becca for making it possible for me to keep in touch with Grandma just a little bit more often.

I love talking to her on the phone and hearing her beautiful, thick British accent compared to my watered down British, Canadian American mess. She tells me I sound American every time we speak and while you'd be hard pressed to find an American to confirm that fact, I know I no longer sound very British either. I absolutely loved seeing her in 2010 and will treasure the time Brandon and I spent with her. She was so sweet to us, and was very concerned that the gigantic spread of any kind of food you can imagine would still not be enough to satiate my hulk of a husband. She couldn't get over how big he was and I had to have a photo of the two of them. She wanted to keep him as a bodyguard, but my Dad already laid claim. 

She is such a spry little thing, but you mustn't let her size fool you - she raised 5 boys and is not to be trifled with. I admire her so much for raising her family and sacrificing so much of her time caring for my Grandad who was very ill for years. She's had her own health struggles lately but doesn't seem to be slowing down - traveling, visiting friends and walking here there and everywhere. She walked us to get fish and chips, she walked us to my uncle's house and while Brandon and I were both winded (in my defense, I was growing a human) she hadn't broken a sweat. I can only hope to be as lively in my 80s. While I may not have shown my gratitude well over the years, I am nonetheless grateful for my Grandma and her being so thoughtful, caring and generous. Love you, Grandma! I hope you know it!

On this side of the pond, but on the other side of the border lives my Mum's mum, my Grandma Dorothy. Over the last few months, I've made a more concerted effort to touch base with my Grandma in Canada. We talk every week about this and that and not much at all. In our conversations, we meet in the middle of our life stages - me telling her about Mason's first words and her telling me about friends' funerals she's attending.  I have so many memories of her throughout my life from holidays to visits to helping her in the variety store she and Grandad owned and operated for years. She's an incredible cook and always has food prepared even when you drop in unexpectedly. One of my favourite early memories of Grandma is spending the night at her house after getting stitches in my forehead from an unfortunate encounter between myself, my bike and the corner of a brick wall. I remember how much my head hurt and laying in her bed while she sang "The Ugly Duckling" to me (in hindsight, perhaps a poor choice for an 8 year old girl with stitches across her forehead) but I loved it, nonetheless. She still sings songs from my childhood to my kids when she sees them (and ALWAYS manages to get them to sleep) and it almost always brings a tear to my eye.

 

She and Grandad took us on lots of holidays growing up and as one of their oldest grandchildren, I have tender memories of them playing with us, a luxury those on the younger end usually miss out on, but my Grandma would still give me a horsey ride if I asked, I'm sure. She continues to play with my 7 year old cousin and seems to have a hidden store of energy somewhere.

 

She has been battling breast cancer for years now and has been through severe ups and downs. Through it all, she wears a smile on her face, keeps a spring in her step and continues to be the most diligent Visiting Teacher there is. Every time I speak to her, she has come from or is going to serve someone. I thought of her when Elder Tad Callister spoke in our LDS General Conference about his parents being an example of service: "I remember my mother, age 90 or so, cooking in her condominium kitchen and then exiting with a tray of food. I asked her where she was going. She replied, “Oh, I am taking some food to the elderly.” I thought to myself, “Mother, you are the elderly."' Even in the middle of chemo and radiation she manages to send us sweet birthday cards and apologizes in advance that she only sent them two weeks early instead of three. She is an inspiration to her doctors and continues to surprise them. She's an amazing missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, telling her doctors about the power of priesthood blessings when she gets better when she "shouldn't" and is constantly sharing the gospel with those she comes in contact with. I owe her for my membership in the church, as she met with the missionaries as a teenager and was the first in her family to be baptized. She's a pioneer to me in so many ways and I am so grateful for her incredible example of strength, service, happiness and caring. I hope she knows how much I love and admire her. Love you, Grandma!

Like I said. I know they will be around for years to come, but why not hear just a smidgen (there's so much more to say) of the wonderful things I have to say about them while it can brighten their day and make them smile? If there's someone you've been meaning to express love to - why not today?

Out of the Mouths of Husbands Part IV

Playing a game of Catch the Balloon with Teagan and he needed to step away. So he said "Time Out." She got a devastated look on her face and asked why. Sports terminology won't work with this one while she's still a toddler.

While eating a bowl of Frosted Flakes...

"It's amazing what a whole lot of sugar can do for a boring ol' bowl of Corn Flakes. Turns a lame-o rooster into a bad A tiger."

During the "Cool Tricks" segment of Yo Gabba Gabba.

Sally: "My cool trick is to play the recorder..."

Buddy: "I've got news for you, Sally. Playing the recorder isn't that..."

Sally: "...Through my nose."

Buddy: "I was wrong."

Buddy: ""I'm going to have to eat my tongue."
Me: "I think you mean bite your tongue or eat your words."

Talk the Talk.

On Saturday, July 5th, I missed a call from our friend, Jason. But that's not important. Or is it? see. 

July 6th was a Fast Sunday, and the last Fast Sunday we would be in the Blue Diamond Ward, so I took the opportunity to bear my testimony "one last time" to the dear friends I'd made. I felt the Spirit and I felt like it had gone well and there wasn't more I could have said. Until our friend, Jason, who's now in the bishopric, approached us and told us he'd tried to call the day before. Turns out, he was going to ask Brandon and I to speak the following Sunday, our last week in the ward before we moved. Well colour me embarrassed. I hope my testimony actually touched someone and it wasn't just an extra trip to the pulpit. 

We were asked to speak on our heritage, and I thought it would be valuable information to save, so I've included it here.

I stand before you, a cautionary tale, the end result of missing a phone call from a member of the bishopric and not returning it.

You see, when your family are good friends with said member of the bishopric, missing a call from him on a Saturday could mean he’d like to borrow an action movie from you that night, his ladder got knocked over and he’s stuck on his roof (I figured he’d leave a message if that happened again), or apparently, he’d like you to speak in church the following Sunday. Since we didn’t call back, and no message was left, Brandon and I both got up last week during Fast and Testimony meeting to bear our testimonies and bid a heartfelt farewell to the ward we love. So me being up here again so soon is kind of like that awkward feeling you get when you see someone you know at the grocery store and after saying goodbye, end up running into them in every aisle after that. Moral of the story: answer the phone when the bishopric calls and it may just save you a trip to the pulpit!

Let me introduce ourselves… oh wait. We move out of state on Saturday, so your window to actually get to know us is closing rapidly, but I will put rumours to rest and tell you that I’m from England, then Canada. Apparently in the past, I’ve left people with unanswered questions surrounding my hybrid accent and some have thought it was a speech impediment, so I wanted to clear the air there. Suffice it to say, that my husband of nearly 8 years, Brandon, my 3 year old girl, Teagan, and my 8 month old boy, Mason, will miss this ward very much when we leave. And I know no one has “assigned” seats in our church, but I’d like to unofficially bequeath our seats to someone with a small baby so that Sister Staten has somewhere to channel her incredible baby whisperer abilities.

I’ll admit I was a little befuddled by our subject at first, but as I prayed about it and thought about it this week, I grew to love and appreciate the subject matter: Our Heritage. What we can learn from and how our testimonies can grow through the examples of the pioneers, the conversions of our ancestors and/or our own personal conversions. I’ll give you a second to take that all in – I know I needed some time.

I found a great talk by Elder Oaks that addresses the topic perfectly. He opens speaking about a talk he’d prepared and shown to one of his senior brethren who responded by asking, “Therefore, what?” He said “the talk was incomplete because it omitted a vital element: what a listener should do…For many months we have studied the lives and accomplishments of our pioneers, early and modern. Some of us have walked in the footsteps of pioneer ancestors and gone on treks, reenacting their experiences. Elder Oaks continues, “Now after all these studies and activities, it is appropriate to ask ourselves, “Therefore, what?” Are these pioneer celebrations academic, merely increasing our fund of experiences and knowledge? Or will they have a profound impact on how we live our lives? It is not enough to study or reenact the accomplishments of our pioneers. We need to identify the great, eternal principles they applied to achieve all they achieved for our benefit and then apply those principles to the challenges of our day.”

As Nephi was trying to teach his brothers and help them increase their faith, he applied the scriptures to their lives. In 1 Nephi 19:23 he says,

And I did read many things unto them which were written in the books of Moses; but that I might more fully persuade them to believe in the Lord their Redeemer I did read unto them that which was written by the prophet Isaiah; for I did liken all scriptures unto us, that it might be for our profit and learning.

Just as we apply the scriptures to our lives so we can increase our faith and become better disciples, we should liken the inspiring stories of the pioneers. As I share some of my family’s history and do my best to extract lessons from those experiences, I’d like for you to think about what lessons you can learn from the pioneers and how they can change our lives. “What if I don’t have pioneer ancestors?” you may ask, and to that I say: you and me both. Seeking a better life, my parents and I crossed the Atlantic Ocean on a very comfortable airplane, complete with in-flight movie and I can’t seem to relate very well to my countrymen who crossed the plains in the bitter conditions we’ve heard so much about. But the words of President Gordon B. Hinckley humble me and remind me of our shared heritage: “Whether you are among the posterity of the pioneers or whether you were baptized only yesterday, each is the beneficiary of their great undertaking.” Elder Oaks said, “All of us enjoy the blessings of their efforts, and all of us have the responsibilities which go with that heritage.” So regardless of how far back in our family tree membership in the church goes, we share in the blessings and the responsibilities of it.

Now that we know that none of us are exempt from learning from the pioneers, I’d like to talk about some of the lessons we can learn from their experiences and how we can apply those lessons to our lives to improve them. Elder Oaks points out that “Many of our challenges are different from those faced by former pioneers but perhaps just as dangerous and surely as significant to our own salvation and the salvation of those who follow us. For example, as for life-threatening obstacles, the wolves that prowled around pioneer settlements were no more dangerous to their children than the drug dealers or pornographers who threaten our children. Similarly, the early pioneers’ physical hunger posed no greater threat to their well-being than the spiritual hunger experienced by many in our day. The children of earlier pioneers were required to do incredibly hard physical work to survive their environment. That was no greater challenge than many of our young people now face from the absence of hard work, which results in spiritually corrosive challenges to discipline, responsibility, and self-worth. Jesus taught in Matthew 10:28: ‘And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell’.”

I love the parallels that Elder Oaks drew between the dangers the early pioneers faced and the dangers we face – and faced in 1997 when he gave the talk. My sister would remind me at this juncture that she was only 2 years old, simultaneously making me feel ancient and proving once again that the leaders of our church are so inspired and able to warn us with alarming accuracy of the pitfalls we should prepare to face in these last days.

The hallmark of our pioneers was faith. I daresay that faith is demonstrated in every pioneer story we hear. By definition, a pioneer has faith as they do what every pioneer does – step forward into the unknown. Along with faith, unselfishness and sacrifice are common themes in the lives of pioneers, early and modern. Elder Oaks says that “our Utah pioneers excelled at putting ‘the general welfare and community goals over individual gain and personal ambition.’ That same quality is evident in the conversion of modern pioneers. Upon receiving a testimony of the truth of the restore gospel, they have unhesitatingly sacrificed all that was required to assure that its blessings will be available to their children and to generations unborn. Some have sold all their property to travel to a temple. Some have lost employment. Many have lost friends. Some have even lost parents and extended family as new converts have been disowned for their faith.” We praise what the pioneers’ unselfishness and sacrifice have done for us, but that is not enough. We should also assure that these same qualities are guiding principles for each of us as we have opportunities to sacrifice for our nations, families, and our Church. Do you, like the pioneers, have the courage and the consistency to be true to the faith and endure to the end?

I may not have a wealth of pioneers-crossing-the-plains stories to share from my family history, but I have the somewhat unique blessing of a very close relationship with my maternal grandmother, who is a pioneer in her own right – the first (and one of the only members of her family) to discover and join The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We’ve recently instituted a standing phone date and I used last week’s to have her share her conversion story with me and after 66 years, she still gets teary when she shares it. I’d like for each of you, as you listen, if you listen, to identify lessons we can learn and apply from my grandma’s conversion story. I only have time to cover one, since I know we are all anxiously awaiting Brandon’s talk.

When my grandma was 13, she and her friends got SO bored one day that her neighbour (a less active member of the Church) suggested they go to MIA (what’s now called Young Women’s) and my grandma agreed to go. The missionaries were running it and invited her to come to Sunday School. “I’m Methodist, but I’ll ask my parents,” came her reply. Her Dad said, “indeed you can’t, you go to Methodist Sunday School and that’s where you’ll keep going. I’ve heard about those Mormons and they’re up to no good.” Well, it just so happened that the Methodist Sunday School ended at 2:30 and the Mormons didn’t start until 3. So she approached her father again, asking if she attended the Methodist Sunday School first, could she then go on to the Mormon Sunday School? (Begging to attend MORE church doesn’t sound like any 13 year old I know, so she must have been feeling the Spirit! He didn’t see anything wrong with that and let her go. So every Sunday, she would hop on her bike and attend Mormon Sunday School, which led to lessons with the missionaries. She asked her Dad if she could get baptized and refused.

He died when she was 15. The missionaries that had been teaching my grandma sent her a condolence card and included a beautiful poem about passing from this life.

The Sailing Ship - Bishop Charles Henry Brent (1862-1929)

What is dying?
I am standing on the seashore.
A ship sails to the morning breeze and starts for the ocean.
She is an object and I stand watching her
Till at last she fades from the horizon,
And someone at my side says, “She is gone!” Gone where?
Gone from my sight, that is all;
She is just as large in the masts, hull and spars as she was when I saw her,
And just as able to bear her load of living freight to its destination.
The diminished size and total loss of sight is in me, not in her;
And just at the moment when someone at my side says, "She is gone",
There are others who are watching her coming,
And other voices take up a glad shout,
"There she comes" – and that is dying.

My great grandmother was devastated by the loss of her husband. She had a nervous breakdown and could often be found sitting on her husband’s grave, crying. My grandma and her sister spoke to her on several occasions, pleading with her to do something about it, to get help. Eventually she decided she couldn’t take it anymore and agree to go to a doctor. On this occasion, her usual doctor wasn’t there and was sent to a new doctor, one she’d never seen before and never saw again. He asked what the problem was and she explained that her husband had died and she couldn’t get over it. He responded by saying, “Listen to me. You’ve just lost a husband. Your children have just lost a father. If you carry on the way you are, they’ll be losing a mother too.” Then he asked her a question that floored her. “Were you happy in that marriage?” “Of course I was happy!” she replied. “Then my advice is to go home, get down on your knees and thank your Heavenly Father for the good years that you had and that should help you get over it.”

So she went home, gave her prescription some thought and knelt down, not really knowing what to say or do. But the very next day, “ministering angels” my grandma calls them, two Relief Society sisters knocked on the door. They said, “We’ve come to invite you to Relief Society Homemaking. It’s tonight and we’re sewing – would you care to come?” “Okay,” my great grandmother replied. “I’ll come.” Whether she would have gone on her own or not my grandma couldn’t say, but these sisters went one step further and said, “we’ll pick you up.” They picked her up and took her to the activity where she spent her time making pillowcases and brought home a big pile to continue at home. She loved it. They asked her if she would like the missionaries to come round. Come round, they did and my great grandma agreed to get baptized and allowed my grandma to get baptized as well. They set a date for May 27^th and on that day she got sick, but there was no stopping my Grandma. She went ahead with a friend and took the train to Birmingham to be baptized. She thought my great grandma was having second thoughts, but she was baptized in July when she felt better and was baptized by the same Elder that baptized my grandma. And from then on she was one of the best members of the church you’d ever meet, according to my grandma. She would do anything for anybody and left a legacy of service, continued by my grandma, who was scheduled to go visiting teaching as soon as we were finished talking – 80 years old, battling cancer, crippled from chemotherapy and radiation and widowed less than 3 weeks before.

To have this story recorded is an incredible blessing for me, but to have been told firsthand by my Grandma with her unique inflection and humour is absolutely priceless and I would encourage you to speak with older family members about their memories and conversion stories, if they have them. I learned a few lessons from her story and am now committed to use those lessons to improve myself and those around me.

The truth that struck me most profoundly is that Heavenly Father puts people in our lives for a reason and that we can and should strive to be instruments in the Lord’s hands. The doctor she only saw once, who so boldly spoke of his belief in our Father in Heaven and encouraged my great grandmother to kneel in prayer. Sure, it may not be politically correct in our day to advise your patients to pray, but I will be eternally grateful to that man for sharing his testimony with my great grandmother. The missionaries who kept in touch with my grandma and sent her a card when her father passed – the poem they included meant so much to her throughout her life that she included it in the program at my grandad’s funeral last month. The Relief Society sisters who listened to the spirit, followed a prompting and invited my great grandma to a Homemaking activity. Then going the extra mile and picking her up for said activity instead of just hoping she’d remember and find her way there. The small and simple acts of these few people and their willingness to be instruments in God’s hands helped the Gospel of Jesus Christ find its way into my family and my life and the lives of my posterity have been changed for the better.

Because of this story, I am looking for those seemingly chance encounters and those people that Heavenly Father has placed in my life – the Blue Diamond Ward is full of them! More importantly, I’m striving to live close to the Spirit, listening for promptings and looking for opportunities to BE that person in someone else’s life. President Spencer W. Kimball said, “God does notice us, and He watches over us. But it is usually through another person that He meets our needs. Therefore, it is vital that we serve each other in the kingdom.”

Self-evaluation seems the natural next step, as scary a prospect as that is. Could I be more in tune with the Spirit and proactive about sharing the Gospel, inviting people to church? Yes I could be. Will I be, as a result of learning from the experience of my forebears’? Yes I will. Could I have been a better Visiting Teacher while I was in this ward? My companion will be the first to tell you that yes, yes I could have!

Will I be a better Visiting Teacher as I reflect on the experiences of those that have gone before me and recognize the influence we can have on others’ lives? Yes, yes I will!

I pray that as we study and even reenact the stories and accomplishments of pioneers, both former and modern that we take our study past academics and let their stories touch our hearts and impact our lives. That we ask ourselves, “Therefore, what?” or if you don’t talk to yourself quite so eloquently, “So what does that mean for me?” From the Our Heritage manual: “As we learn more about the faith or those who have gone before us, we can better understand those with whom we have joined hands in bearing witness of the Saviour and helping to establish His Kingdom… Each of us has a place in church history…Whether we are new members or old, we inherit a legacy of faith and sacrifice from those who have gone before us.” It’s more than humbling to think of us joining hands with those incredible pioneers we love and respect so much, but as we live the gospel and defend The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, that’s precisely what we do and I hope we take that responsibility seriously. President Hinckley said, “We honor best those who have gone before when we serve well in the cause of truth.”

I know the Gospel is true. I know that Jesus Christ is our Saviour and that He lives. I know that Heavenly Father has placed many of you in our lives to teach us the meaning of charity and what it means to be a disciple of Jesus Christ. I hope I don’t make this too awkward by saying another goodbye…

And there it was. Did I mention I'd gotten my wisdom teeth out on Wednesday, and had bruised, fat cheeks while standing in front of an entire congregation? Yeah, that happened.