Deliberate Design for Desirable Doings

Dear Family and dear friends,               

 Happy Autumn!          

 

(This particular picture lent itself only for four young men and our red haired friend--Lunch near Davis High is ever interesting on Tuesday..  And  leaves us lower on pickles than when our day began!) 

"With what kind of victory do you begin your day?"  This question could invite you in to a comfortable conversation with nine hungry high school juniors pooling heads atop teal and brown placemats at our oak table, piling turkey and pickles on whole wheat slices slathered with mustard and mayo mingled with cantaloupe, grapes, oranges or apple slices.  Emma, the lone female classmate, resonates with the question referencing Admiral William H. McCraven’s, speech asserting that the simple act of something like making one’s bed, could make a “profound impact” of starting a day with a simple completed task: "If you make your bed every morning, you will have accomplished the first task of the day. It will give you a small sense of pride, and it will encourage you to do another task, and another, and another. And by the end of the day, that one task completed will have turned into many tasks completed." 

How do you connect with your WHY?  Another question offers thoughts from Greg McKeown, Essentialism, suggesting simple efforts at the gates of day of personal reflection, priority, and choice can leverage a helpful habit.  Some people meditate, some people pray, some people connect with timeless literature or exercise or journal.  What gives basis and foundation and a trusted vector to YOUR day?  How could doing a quick “look around” to possibilities prior to leaving the pillow, help leave this planet a better place than you found it? 

Autumn has combined cycles of school terms for grandchildren with civic duty for adults, inviting meaningful growth.  Our visitors for Tuesday lunch became "added upon" with a Fall Break invite from granddaughters to spruce a garden finding a fluorescent purple roly-poly,  

and generally organize typing tools and stitching center

and prepare photos to place with poetry penned by Laurene's sister who died last January.  “Less and better” is the goal in yard and home.  Less weeds, less clutter, easier access of useful items.  

Temple time.  General Conference. 

           

Fixing the back door:  how did we get here?  During a wind storm (not to point fingers, HOWEVER, a certain door HAPPENED to open directly after a  certain Mrs. McGregor told a child NOT to go outside during the wind storm.  The door promptly blew off its hinges.) Months and months and a chunk of change afterward, we have a NEW door on our back porch AND last week, our contracting neighbor’s favorite painter sprayed it bright white.  Sparkling, sealed, and ready for winter just before temperatures plummet.  Grateful!!! 

Pondering John 10:9  “I am the door…”  Are each of us not a door to help those we love open vistas, and unveil pastures to nourishing the soul?  "I am the door: by me if any man enter in, he shall be saved, and shall go in and out, and find pasture." [1] 

Val opened some pasture last Saturday afternoon in a drive to look for changing colors on mountains surrounding East Canyon Reservoir, where his grandfather Charles Peterson grew up: “Lovely appear, over the mountains!” 

(Above: high school grandson accompanying high school jazz band; helpful neighbor young men earning organ shoes) 

Music can whisper through our caverns and canyons amid efforts to capture, collect and cleave to beauty and truth.  A pertinent memory for the moment: sitting on a living room rug years ago, a young grandson chased a tiny helicopter top as it lifted and swirled toward the room's corner.  “Watch!” was the grandma’s direction.  So the grandson called the whirligig “Watch!”  

We are learning from Mad Eye Moody and repeated memory of Grammy’s 7^th grade civics teacher that the price of liberty is “constant vigilance.”  

Not a simple task.  Utah Supreme Court justice, presently religious leader recently encouraged each of us to “be knowledgeable citizens…active in making our influence felt in civic affairs.”  As a small school girl, Laurene watched parents help a presidential candidate begin his campaign on a snowy day from a residence at 5 Paul Street, Somersworth, New Hampshire, in a sleepy town of 9500. 

(Pictured above opening of Governor Romney's 1968 presidential bid, and an aerial view of Somersworth, New Hampshire apparently near the Salmon Falls River that acts as the border to Berwick, Maine) 

Is it not inspiring to "watch" (AND lend a hand, as) vigilant, active friends and neighbors wrestle issues while seeking solutions?  Is it not a privilege to applaud and encourage, to learn together?  What important doors are inviting vista in your day and your life?  Thank you, for your vigilance and attention and friendship.  We love you!   Laurene and Val

"Carest Thou not That We Perish?" (with Salutation to Shirley, our Sunshine)

 Dear family and dear friends                                                             

Three days after mom’s passing in August, Val and I flew to Seattle

 

to witness and celebrate a wedding of our eldest granddaughter in Bow, Washington, at Beau Lodge.  We heard:  “Mawiage is what bwings us togevah today!”

Pachelbel’s Canon in D, "One in Christ” added melody to an afternoon beneath the forested canopy. 

Family and friends from near and far gathered in honor of a young couple entering a sacred institution we work to honor daily with worthy causes, efforts to lift, love, 

cherish and discover hidden gifts within and without. 

Our arrival home connected with grandchildren packed to camp at Lilly Lake.  (Note the spelling.) Our GPS set for “Lily,” directed us to a 1.8-mile all-terrain vehicle trail of large, round river rocks.  After hearing from a backseat, “Grandpa, my stomach used to be comfy, but is not so comfy anymore!” and not knowing whether to continue or turn around, we hiked forward to said lake to learn reservations were unheard of here. Reminded of Matthew 18:10 “their angels do ALWAYS behold the face of the Father” a 10-year-old asked “May I pray?”  A prayer and request to sing a song with words “ONWARD,” preceded a kind couple in a black ATV.  Steve and Becky ushered us back to a forlorn, empty, alternative site.  Steve, seeing crestfallen countenances, asked if we would like to share his flushable toilet and recreational vehicle site at the entry to the Lily Lake trail.  "Yes!!"

Darkness gathering quickly.  I emerged from the clean RV to find Steve, Val, and grandchildren positioning poles of our green tent. Connected, crafted in a calm, collected covering, we bedded down, content. 

(Above is a picture of Val practicing in our yard. Yes, it can pay to practice.  

But home is NOT always exactly the same!) 

About 2:30 a.m. scouting a sagebrush and silently slinking back, aiming to avoid dancing of distant drops, I zipped the tent to shut out brewing of a billowing Uintah summer storm. In a rush to bed before pitch dark, stakes for the tent had been postponed.  Walls of the tent were burgeoning. Ten-year-old hands pushed to steady a tent in dramatic diagonal sway.  Again, a request for prayer.  Remembering disciples discouraged at a sleeping Master, and glancing at a brother snuggled slumbering, petitions arose to protect other children camping who might feel scared. As the sweet words were offered, the wind quieted directly.  Pelting drops ceased.  Four campers bedded down again for rest.  Arising to sauté sausages, eggs, and pancakes; and whittle pine prongs to protect Grandpa Ivin Gee’s relic camp stove from drippings of jumbo marshmallows; some of us walked around Mirror Lake, and all enjoyed Quiddler and Golf card games with new friends. 

Days later, Becky texted a photo of the REAL Lilly Lake.  By Camas.  Lessons learned:  Spelling matters!  Maps may help when reception is in question.  Asking for direction can lead to friendship.  Prayer can change things.   

          

Camping gear mostly stowed; grandchildren headed for school; we headed directly for BYU Education Week.  Highlights: Millennial Choir 250^th celebration. Ideas of music for deceased loved ones.  Invitation to allow covenants to overcome habits and weakness, trust a compensating power of Christ. 

Returning, we opened home and hearts to gather family 

for funeral happenings and Celebration of Shirley (this happened in August AND September) :

Neighbors and friends from Kaysville offered support.  Clothing, jewelry, paintings, furniture, photographs, letters (and more) carefully distributed, donning of altered skirts; gems and jewels examined and collected; games, conversations, meals, and services offered replete reminiscence. 

Views of valleys and mountain glens preceded a gathering for a picnic at our Paris (ID) Pioneer palace. 

 Can “All [be] safely gathered in, before our winter storm begins”? "Yes!"

                                            

(Ask Grandpa about a 4 AM call to collect a forgotten stroller on the way to an early flight!)

(Or our meteorologist neighbor tracking our tiny tornado Friday.) 

 With power in words “remember, remember,” we see hearts can lift as they turn. Thank you for turning a few pages of majestic moments with us.  We love you!  Laurene and Val 

(Nearby grandchildren make moments to serve, Val's mother gathers sisters)

For any who may have missed the "You are my Sunshine" tribute to Shirley Gee, 

a link to obituary and funeral, click HERE.  

The funeral program (thanks to Sophie Grace):  

The (above) poem was written by Shirley at about age 16, possibly about the time she stumbled in a farmhouse attic across a journal of her mother, Lucille, a high school junior chronicling teen adventures, including meeting Floyd, Shirley's father.  

After the funeral, a cousin Greg asked for a scan of Lucille's journal and created this video.

(Click HERE)

To hear Shirley's poem, put to music, Karen Carpenter style — a family favorite—

[idea—Education Week family history class:] 

(click HERE)

Thank you for sharing our Sunshine!