Author Archives: Joy

One “Stitches” At A Time-Pointy Finger

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When I was in first grade I had the prettiest teacher. Her name was Miss Peacock. I loved her. The fact that I loved her and that she was pretty has nothing to do with my story except that this experience happened while she was my teacher.

All of the children would go to the restroom together, either after recess or just a restroom break. It was always busy with girls coming in and out of the stalls. As this was a routine and we did it everyday, one little girl had pinched her fingers more than once in the cracks on the side of the stalls. She would stand with her back to the stall and put her fingers in the cracks on either side of the stall. I thought why does she do that? What is the fascination with putting your fingers in the cracks. I made a grave decision to put my fingers in to see what was like. As I did the child inside the stall opened the stall door which pinched my fingers, but especially my index finger on my right hand. I cried out in pain, and pulled my hand from the door. My pointy finger was bleeding and the skin was torn. I didn’t go to my teacher, I went straight to the nurse’s office. All the schools at that time had nurses at the school full time. I remember holding my hand in front of my face and crying hard as I walked to the nurses office. I knew she would help me and call my mama.

I remember laying on the small cot that was set up in the nurses office with bandages and ice on my finger while I waited for my mama to come get me and take me to the hospital. The pain coming from my hand was immense. I kept going over in my mind what had happened and thinking why did you do it? Why did you put your hand in the crack? I must have had bigger fingers than the little girl who I saw do it before, because she was never hurt like I was. It was one lesson that I will never forget of doing something dumb because you saw someone else do it.

We lived in the country, and the school was a distance away our home, so it was a little while until my mama got there. Then we had to drive to the hospital which was about a half an hour away. When we got to the hospital we found out that my finger was broken and was almost torn off just below my nail. It was stitched together and I was given a splint to hold my finger straight while it healed. I learned to write with my index finger straight in the splint. And it healed very well. I have good use of my finger, almost the same as the left index finger it just looks a little scarred up. My finger nail isn’t real pretty, but I’m ok with how it looks.

All said I learned a valuable lesson that day to choose wisely what you do, don’t follow others if their choices are negative, or have a negative outcome, think about consequences- they are part of life and are based on laws that cannot be changed. I feel sad writing about this experience, because I know that little girl (me) that struggle so much, but I always know the woman I have become and how I have overcome so many challenges and come out of those experiences successfully. I always felt God’s love for me as a child and I knew He would help me with life.

One “Stitches” At A Time-The VW Bug

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When I was about 4 years old, I had my first experience in a long line of experiences getting stitches. I was climbing on the back of the VW bug that my parents owned and fell. I don’t know for sure how it happened, but I cut my leg on the license plate in the process of falling. It was bad. I had to have many stitches. I don’t know why my parents never counted, because I sure would have. The cut ran lengthwise on my inner thigh and was at least two thirds the length. I remember my mom running out to see why I was crying, and then the look on her face. She had to run and get a washcloth to hold my leg closed. I spent at least a week recovering on the couch in the living room. When I needed to go potty, someone would carry me to the bathroom and wait, then carry me back. I was so sad that I was hurt.

Since my Daddy passed on, my Mama has given me quotes from his journals. One of the quotes said. “May 22, 1966, Joy cut her leg real bad when she climbed on the back of the car, a few weeks ago but it is healing. Jo and I had to pack her around everywhere for about a week.”

One thing that made my time on the couch not quite so boring, was that some of our neighbors brought me over some coloring books and crayons, which I totally loved. We lived in a great neighborhood.

Little did I know at the time that I would be getting more stitches as I was doing my best to grow up.

Learning To Love Everyone

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While on my mission in Texas, I had an experience with a ward mission leader that I will never forget. First I need to tell you about my first ward mission leader. He was a young dad. He was married to a wonderful supportive wife, and the daddy to a quiver full of children with one on the way. He was in the Air Force and was always doing missionary work, and sharing his love of the gospel with anyone who would listen. He opened his home to us missionaries many times. Whether it be to eat dinner, or teach a friend about the restored gospel. He was consistently reliable. He loved to support us, and follow through with anything we asked of him or needed to be successful missionaries.

Then I was transferred to my second area. I had a great companion and wonderful area, but the mission leader was 100% different. We would meet with him to plan and discuss our work. He was always supportive, but never followed through. Typical one liners would be, “Sorry sisters, I dropped the ball on that.” or “I really missed the boat, there.” or “My week got away from me.” I’m sure it was just me, but he was so frustrating to me. I kept thinking we needed someone we could count on to be successful. I realized as time went by that I just really struggled with him.

In our apartment there was a collection of Ensigns (old religious magazines) and one day as I looked through the stack I saw an article that caught my eye. It was written by someone who was working with a difficult person. They needed the job, and couldn’t quit. They had been wondering what to do about the situation. I don’t remember how, maybe in the scriptures, but they found the inspiration they needed. The answer was to see this person, the coworker, the ward mission leader the way God sees them. How? They used prayer. They pleaded with God to help them to see this challenging person the way He sees them. Since we are all His children and we all have infinite worth and value, surely this would help. It did.

Slowly the coworker became less of a challenge to the person who wrote the story. They actually noticed some of the things this coworker was good at, and finally learned to love them. I was determined to love this ward mission leader, and so I started praying to see this mission leader the way God sees him. It didn’t take long. The next Sunday I watched him with his family. His wife looking at him adoringly, his children running to him arms out stretched, his tiny infant daughter smiling at him while he held her. Wow! I was amazed as I noticed how thoughtful and loving he was to his family. He provided them a safe place to live and grow. He loved God and was doing his best. I am glad to say that anytime he “dropped the ball” after that I was completely unaffected. I was so grateful to just love him, not judge him. It was freeing, and such a blessing.

These days I am not bugged very much by people I deal with, because I always go back to my experience learning to love and see another the way God sees and loves them. Of course I’m not perfect, and I’m sure there is someone out there who might have to pray to learn to love me. This life is tough. We all struggle, but the journey is better and more enjoyable when we get along and love each other. I hope I never forget this lesson. God loves us all.

A Vintage Survival Pioneer Trek

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I looked up the word Vintage, and besides references about wine I found, a period of origin and dating from the past, and the word Survival means the state or fact of continuing to live or exist, typically in spite of difficult circumstances, and decided to use these words to describe the first pioneer trek I ever went on. Of course this wasn’t the first pioneer trek, that trek was the definitely vintage and the epitome of survival. Things have changed a lot since my first trek experience, even in the modern reenactment treks that happen now.

I was about 14 years old, and it was about the mid 1970’s. It was tough! I still feel a little uneasy about how this trek was done, and think it should have or could have been a better experience.

As I remember it, we arrived at the church on Thursday in our pioneer outfits. In our ward a common and expected thing would be for our leaders to have a table set up with a breakfast treat like donuts or muffins and maybe even juice while we waited for everyone to arrive. Not for this event. Nothing, not even water. I was a little bummed, because I didn’t eat before I left home, no breakfast, no snack or anything. This would normally not be a big deal if lunch was the next opportunity to eat, but as I found out later it would be a quite a long while till I would eat.

We got on a bus, and drove for some time, maybe an hour or two. We got to the location, in a canyon somewhere. I have no idea where it was. We got out and were assigned a family group. A Ma and Pa and siblings. The leaders went through the kids bags and removed all candy, gum and any distractions. We got our handcart and started on our way. We walked and walked, we may have even sung as we walked and walked and walked and walked, I don’t remember. We walked and pushed and pulled and took turns in the front of the handcart for a long time. It started to get dusk and we stopped. They said we were stopping for the night. I think they said we went 12 miles. Shortly after we stopped we were givin a cup of broth and a piece of beef jerky. That was it. I honestly don’t remember having water. We didn’t bring water bottles with us. It wasn’t like it is now when all the leaders encourage the youth to bring a water bottle and make sure they take lots of drinks so no one would get dehydrated. So once we were ready we went to bed.

The next day, Friday, we walked and walked again for hours. We may have stopped from time to time, I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything about the food on the second day, but it had to be better than the first day. We walked and pushed the handcarts all day again. I seem to remember that we went 15 miles, and when we quit, we made camp and planned to stay there for a day or so. I don’t remember tents, so I’m sure we just slept out under the stars.

On Saturday, early in the day we had all kinds of busy-ness going on. One thing they did was to release live turkeys and some of the boys chased them down until they caught them. Then they were butchered. Someone chopped off their heads and then we all helped to remove the innards and plucked the turkey. When it was ready it was put in a large dutch oven with other vegetables and buried down in the ground with coals to cook it. In the mean time we played pioneer games and messed around while the food cooked. When the food was done, we dug it out and had the best food I may have ever eaten in my life. That turkey and those veggies were cooked to perfection. Whoever was in charge of that part of the trip was a master.

The next day, Sunday we had our Sunday Sacrament meeting and sat on logs laid out in rows for pews. After Sacrament meeting we did a thing they called solo. We were asked to find a place to spend time in nature away from the other kids and adults. We were to use the time writing in our journal, or reading our scriptures or resting. This was supposed to take place till evening or dusk and then we all gathered together for testimony meeting. I remember trying really hard to have a spiritual experience, or to have something profound to write in my journal, but I was pretty much still feeling out of sorts and kind of insecure. I kept wondering who was in charge and why we were doing this trek. What were we supposed to learn. Maybe we were supposed to learn that we had it easy, that we were pansies, or that challenges are good for us. Maybe we were supposed to learn that we had no clue about how hard it was for the pioneers. I’m sure all of that is true, I just didn’t feel it at the time. Was I too young to truly appreciate what I was experiencing? Definitely, and I’m sure I just wanted to go home.

On Monday morning we broke camp and headed toward the bus and home. Thank heavens! In the end I think they were trying to teach us about hardship and to help us appreciate the original pioneers. I did, and I do. If that’s how pioneer trek reenactments happened today, I would never go on a pioneer trek again.

Thankfully the focus has changed from hardship and endurance to an appreciation of the people themselves. I have been on a pioneer trek since this vintage survival trek and it is much more positive, and even endearing. The kids are assigned or pick a pioneer, and act as if they are that person. They find out the history of that person and what was going on in their lives at the time of the original trek west. This gives them the opportunity to think about them and ask questions like: Why would they do it? What drove them to leave their homeland and sacrifice so much to come to Zion? When you think about that, it’s a lot to take in and contemplate.

They walked an 23,636 steps a day.

Do I put that much energy into anything? Am I driven to follow God and the Prophet like they were? I know I can do hard things for a noble cause, and I want to feel like my time on earth counts. It’s important to make good choices, and to follow good leaders, and bless others along the way. How many steps a day do I make to leave a legacy?

I’m grateful I had a vintage survival pioneer trek experience, but I am glad its over. I am more grateful to the pioneers for their spirit and tenacity and willingness to struggle and even die to get to Zion, and leave such a lasting legacy. Learning about them and following their example is a blessing I will always be grateful for.

You’ll Feel Better

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A handful of years ago I was in a challenging place. Our life had changed completely. If you visit the blog or know me you would already know this. Just for the sake of the story I’ll tell you a what happened.

One thing that I should share is that I have depression. I have had it for many years. I am a pretty good faker, but mostly because it’s my struggle and I don’t want people to ask too much about it. I have had a lot of responsibilities while having depression, so I would say I’m high functioning (whatever that means). I mostly just do what I need to do and cry or be by myself when I get home. I’m telling you this because I’ve dealt with this for a long time, and if or when something big happens or changes, it can have a huge impact on my wellbeing.

Somehow I made it through a son entering the army, a son going to South Africa on a LDS Mission, and two daughters serving missions, one of which was out of the country. I am very protective and a worrier, so my kids growing up, and living somewhere out in the world is not fun. I was only able to handle this time and these experiences because of my faith in God and my understanding that it is actually a good thing and important for our kids to grow up and leave home and make their way in the world. We always knew that the end goal was to raise our kids and send them off into the unknown. We wanted them to be amazing, independent and make the world better for their being in it. That is what they did. They are wonderful. They are incredible people and I look up to them.

When our youngest Emily, our Bonus Baby came home from her mission we thought, “What’s next?” All of our children were living at home. Our oldest and his sweet wife Janet were living in our basement apartment, while they looked for a home. And the other two were working and deciding what they were going to do. All the kids were working to give us help with the bills and such. We knew we wouldn’t/couldn’t make ends meet without them. We were house poor when we bought our wonderful home, but wanted to stay as long as possible. We lived there for 18 years. We raised our kids there, we loved our neighbors and location…but, we knew it was time to move. We prayed and felt like we needed to put the house up for sale. We sold it in 2 months. Riley and Janet bought a house. Alex bought a house and the girls moved in with him.

In a 3 months period of time we got our youngest home from a mission, moved and became empty nesters. I mean when it’s right, it’s right! I knew it would be hard, but I also knew it was right. Things fell into place. Next was adjusting to all the new stuff, and missing my kids. Sniff, sniff, waaahhhhh!

We love our home! We love our neighbors and new friends. I was just so lonesome. So lonesome for my kids. I guess we really ripped the band-aid off! I had a few different jobs, but was really struggling with my depression and finally decided to stay home and do daycare. What that meant was I could feel sad now and then, and hold and love someone else’s kids while I try to adjust to this new normal. It helped. I love children and they love me.

On one occasion I was feeling super sad, and I said to Father in Heaven. “If you’ll help me feel better, I’ll do more.” Meaning I’ll love others more, I’ll leave my house and serve. I’ll bless others with my love. I was having a hard time just helping with the young women in our LDS Ward. I wanted to help, but totaling didn’t want to help. I didn’t want to leave the house. Tears came very easy. I cried so much during this time in my life. After I told Heavenly Father that I’d do more if He helped me feel better, the very next thought that came to my mind was, “If you’d do more, you’d feel better.” Very clear, very calm, that was the answer. I said out loud, “Damnit!” I didn’t want that answer! I knew that that was the right answer, because we forget ourselves when we serve, but I didn’t feel like it. I wanted to feel like it and then do better.

Doing what God wants is always good, but when we do it while we’re in the middle of pain, hardship or sorrow, it is actually doing something that will help us to be more Christlike. Serving, loving and helping another while you’re in pain is what Jesus did after He suffered in the Garden when He healed the guards ear. It’s what He did on the cross when He was in agony and He gave John charge over His Mama. He is our best and most wonderful example. I want to be like Him.

That was pure revelation for me. It was then and is now a guide to doing better. If I’m struggling to love, serve or help another and I don’t really want to do it- I know that’s ok, but I also know I’ll feel better after I do it. I’m so grateful for revelation. I’m so grateful that even in my weird chemical brain I have been blessed with inspiration. I just need to be still and open to it. I want any and all the inspiration that Heavenly Father is willing to give me. I know that He will inspire you too with what ever help you need. Be careful though, cause you might just have to do something you didn’t really want to do, but I promise you will feel better!

Grandbabies!!

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Life just gets grander!! Look at these sweet little blessings in cute little human packages! I’m so grateful for them all! You never know when you’re a young Mama what a blessed and happy time awaits you when you become a grandmother. Each of these tiny souls has come into my life and made such a mark of love and happiness.

There was a story I heard once of person getting ready for a new child to come into their life. I can’t remember if they were parents or grandparents, but they couldn’t comprehend how they could love another child like they loved the one they already had. Like their love was only so much, and they had used all that love. Then someone told them that your love grows. Your ability to love increases. That is truth. I am amazed each time a new baby is born how much I love them, how much I can’t imagine my life without them.

The chorus to a very sweet Primary song says:

God gave us families to help us become what He wants us to be—

This is how He shares His love, for the fam’ly is of God.

God shares His love by giving us families. Children, grandchildren and sweethearts.

It is glorious!

Heroes: Jeri

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There are few people who influenced my teen years as much as Jeri. I was very lonely, insecure and needed a friend that wasn’t family. Family has to love you, friends don’t, they choose to love you. Of course I needed my family too, but I found a friend and confidant and mentor in my hero, Jeri. I called her Mom sometimes, because she was another Mama to me. Let me describe her if I can-Jeri was a very regal and gentle woman. She was soft spoken and polite, and very proper. She had a flare for decorating and celebrations. She could put together a party that was fun with a theme that was undeniably clear.

When she was my church young women leader, we went to her home for an oriental dinner. I can’t remember if it was Japanese or Chinese. Let’s just say Asian. She had all the long tables on blocks close to the floor so we could sit on the floor and eat. The tables were laid out with beautiful tablecloths and the perfect settings and decorations. I’m sure we tried to use chop sticks, but ended up using forks. She served stir fry. The meat was tenderized to perfection. It was delicious and a blast!

She had a beautiful home where I felt safe and loved. She was always busy with recipes and had a dream to write a recipe book. She had a closet in her home just for Root Beer Mugs, platters, soup tureens, china, pitchers serving ware that was like going to visit the homewares area of a department store. It was heavenly.

She loved all the church buildings in Salt Lake and would on occasion take us young women to the Lion House for lunch. What a treat! She loved a little restaurant called Dixon Pies. She would take us to get pie and sometimes even lunch. So much yum!

One time we were meeting with our church group up at Bear Lake. I got to ride with Jeri, and talked her into letting me drive her canary yellow Cadillac. It was a peach! We told her we knew the way and ended up in Idaho, and had to make a big circle to get to the lake. She was so cute about it, too. She just laughed and said it was a fun little adventure. She was so sweet and patient with us.

At Christmas time there was always a beautifully decorated tree positioned in the center of the living room window. It would have a theme and that theme would continue around the home. The living room was always perfect. In fact the whole home was something to behold. It could have been in a magazine! Maybe it was?

She loved little Shelty dogs. She had a few in the time I knew her and they always had sweet names like “Lady” or “Missy”. They were beautiful dogs.

She was a stalwart defender of God and Faith. It was evident in her example and the life she lived. She wasn’t perfect. In fact she was hard on herself. I would visit and we would sit for quite sometime visiting about the things that are important in life. She was divorced and very sad about that, but she didn’t focus on it, too much. She struggled with some health issues and did her best to keep her chin up.

She worked in the Temple and loved her time there. She volunteered as a greeter at Temple Square in Salt Lake City, and enjoyed being in the middle of the church sites. Her love of the gospel of Jesus Christ was an important thing to her and I’m sure she shared it as often as possible.

When I got past my awkward years, and maybe I’m still awkward, she continued to be a wonderful support. She came to the airport when I left for my mission. She would deliver sweet notes to my mailbox saying, “Just thinking about you! Love you! Mother Hen”. What a thoughtful lady. I always wanted to be like her. I knew I’d have to scale down a bit, because I would never have the big, beautiful home she had, but I learned so much from her that I knew I could try to be like her, in my own way.

After I married and had my first little guy, I brought him up to her house to show her. It was precious. She took him from me and doted on him, telling me how beautiful he was and what a good mama I was going to be. Every young mama is overwhelmed and a little scared and she helped me to believe in myself. I thought, “I can do this.”

She passed away as a young Grandma. She preferred to be called “Nannie”. She was way too young and left a hole. If she were here I’d tell her how much she means to me. I’d tell her she made the difference in my young awkward years. I’d tell her that sometimes when I’m decorating for a party I think of her and think she’d be proud of my all around party abilities. She will always be a hero to me. She is a lady, an example, a mentor and most important friend. I love you, Mother Hen!

Feats of Athleticism

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In elementary school in my 6th grade year, there was a year end event called the Pentathlon. It was a fun and challenging competitions in 5 different areas. I looked up Pentathlon on the internet and laughed. We didn’t do those events.

The events in the Olympics are: Fencing, swimming, riding (horseback), shooting, and running. I’m sure because we were a small town school those in charge just came up with events that could be done with little to no expense.

Fencing-is a group of three related combat sports. The three disciplines in modern fencing are the foil, the épée, and the sabre; winning points are made through the weapon’s contact with an opponent. The equipment alone is expensive and not an option for a lot of people.

Swimming-This is a single 200 meter freestyle swim. The faster you swim the more points you get. A time of 2 minutes 30 seconds gets you 250 points. Of course we had no pool, which meant no swimming.

Riding Horseback-Athletes attempt a show-jumping course with 12 obstacles. Athletes do not bring a horse to the event; they are assigned an unfamiliar horse and have 20 minutes to practice with the animal. Completing the course scores 300 points with points deducted for penalties.

Shooting and running-The times for this race are staggered based on the competitors scores from the first three events. Athletes run 3200 meters (not quite 2 miles), with four stops to shoot at targets with a laser pistol. They must stay at the stop until they hit five targets (with an unlimited number of shots) or until 50 seconds have past. The placing in the overall modern pentathlon is based on position across the finish line. Pistols aren’t allowed in schools, so that one is out too. It sounds so fun, but would be such a challenge after you’d been running. Being still and aiming to hit the target would be hard.

Our Pentathlon consisted of: a 50 yard dash, a basketball shoot, high jump, long jump and something so memorable that it slips my mind.
I had so much fun! I ran so fast. I made lots of baskets. I jumped so high, and jumped so long,
and the thing I cant remember? I must have done that good too, because I took first place in all the girls in the school!! And 2nd place in the school counting all the boys!

I was so amazingly athletic in elementary school, but not quite as much so later in junior high and high school. I did compete in gymnastics and diving for the swim team in high school. I loved working my muscles and feeling like I pushed myself to be better.

L.A. On a Shoe String

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Back in 1990, my Dad had given us the opportunity to travel to Los Angeles for the wedding of a dear friend. He won airline tickets in a Handball Tournament and didn’t want to use them. So he gifted them to us so we could go. Sandy was my first companion and trainer when I was a missionary in Texas back in 1983-84. She was getting married in Los Angeles because the Oakland LDS Temple was closed for renovations. She lived in the Bay Area.

We were really in no position to go on a trip. Very little money, and small children we’d have to leave behind, were the main things that should have had us thinking twice about going. But…I love her, she’s my friend and we can just be so careful about spending and make it happen.

We decided to go! We loaded us our carry on luggage with snacks and got on the plane. A few things I should say about this trip are, the only definite things were- “But, she’s getting married Saturday in the LA LDS Temple, and we’re staying across the street in the Travel Lodge Motel!”

We had no idea how we were getting to the motel. We had no idea where, when or what we were going to eat. We had cash, a little. When the cash was gone, we didn’t have any other way of paying for anything. This is before credit cards, cell phones and all of the conveniences we enjoy today.

On the plane I sat by a guy who was going home from BYU. This usually means he’s a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He offered to take us to the motel from the airport. Wow! That was a miracle. I had found out he was traveling back to BYU the same day we were going home and I was hoping he’d offer to pick us up on his way. He didn’t. I thought, darn, but we’ll be ok.

We got to the motel and happened to see my friend, Sandy. She was staying at the motel too. It was right across the street from the temple so that made sense. We went to bed and got up early on Saturday for the wedding, and walked across the street. It was beautiful. They had a nice dinner after at a local restaurant.That was another miracle. We didn’t have to buy any food. When we got hungry we snacked on our snacks.

Sunday we went to church at the little chapel right next to the temple. It was very nice and fun to see how this tiny ward belted out the hymns. So much spirit!

Monday, Sandy had asked us on Saturday if we wanted to tag along with them to Disneyland for the day. We said yes! We had enough money. We rode together and then split up for most the day, after all they had just got married. That evening they treated us to a movie in a nice California Theatre. She said they are bigger and more amazing than the ones in Utah. We went and had a fun time.

When we flew home, I can’t even remember if it was Tuesday or Wednesday, but we knew we didn’t have enough money to get a taxi. We decided to ride the bus. It was something else. I wouldn’t even ride the bus in Utah, let alone in LA with luggage. Just to make sure I knew what to do, I called the LA Transit and talked to a really nice lady who gave me directions. Where to get on and all the particulars. The most important thing she said was, “Whatever you do, DON’T get off the bus.” I thanked her and we headed for the bus stop. We got on the bus and as we’re traveling I see things the lady told me I would see. I was feeling confident for a while, but then it felt like to much time had gone by. Then I saw a street sign. It was one that she must have mentioned . I thought maybe we are supposed to get off here, and go the other bus stop on that street. We get over there, running with our luggage and then I felt like I made a mistake. I called the LA Transit again. This nice lady answered and I tell her what I’m trying to do. She says, “I told you not to get off the bus!” I said, “I know, but I got confused when I saw the street sign.” She then proceeds to tell me that all the buses end up at the airport, eventually. Well, why didn’t she tell me that before. Haha. We got to the airport with moments to spare, running to catch our plane.

We made it to Salt Lake City where Brett’s dad was waiting to take us home.

We had $2 in our pockets.