One Year Later...

One year ago, I was unceremoniously drop-kicked out of my beloved YSA branch.

Wait.

I did get a very nice diploma. It was printed on fancy paper, rolled up, and tied with a ribbon. And it was presented at my last branch FHE, so....

One year ago, I was ceremoniously drop-kicked out of my beloved YSA branch. That was kind of traumatic for me. Tears and cussing were involved. I may or may not have considered using hot-pink spray paint to vandalize the stake president's cattle herd.

It was a dark time.

Thankfully, I was quickly adopted into the family home evening group that my former branch leaders had started when they were drop-kicked out of the branch eight months earlier. Having an FHE to attend has been wonderful for me, and I think it worked out well for those cattle too. Hot pink definitely wasn't their color.


Being a former brancher has still be weird, though. Before last year, my life pretty much revolved around the kidlets and the branchers. I still miss attending all of the many, many activities, like this February's branch weekday Relief Society meeting.

Lacie taught the branch-ettes how to crochet. Had I still been a card-carrying young single adult instead of an old single adult, I would have been right there with them. I would have spent the evening teasing Lacie, taking a ton of photos, and sloppily trying to turn yarn into a scarf.

Sigh.

It would have been a blast.

I would have really liked to have been there.

Oh wait. I was there. But I wasn't crashing the party illegally trying to relive my youth. I was on official stake Relief Society business. You can tell because I was wearing a skirt. A non-denim skirt. That skirt is as official and non-apostate as skirts get.

And it's not like I could pass up an opportunity to use yarn created and endorsed by Vanna White. I never would have forgiven myself for squandering a chance like that.

But even though I still like to keep one, slightly apostate toe in the familiar branch waters, I am very grateful for the opportunities I have to immerse myself in the spiritual and culinary fountain of youth that is my wonderful FHE group.

Our FHE's are beautiful in every way: beautiful people with beautiful souls sharing beautiful food in beautiful homes while sharing beautiful lessons and testimonies.

Plus, every FHE is a "feed the flock" FHE. Dinner and a lesson? How could Monday nights get better than that?

Kristi could be there!

And there is another bonus blessing to being a part of this particular family home evening group too: No showing up for FHEs only to discover that the planned activity is speed dating.

Again.

Of course, there is a downside to my current situation too. I have to constantly deal with the possibility that the other people in the FHE group could be translated at any moment. Sure, being twinkled would be nice for them, but I would like to get a few more evening in with all of them before they go all City-of-Enoch on me.

Without them, I would be forced to hold my own private family home evenings. And now that President Sagers is serving a cattle-less mission and WalMart has cut back on its spray paint inventory, I wouldn't even know how to begin to plan an alternate FHE activity.

So if you all could pray for my FHE group NOT to be translated any time soon, that would be great. If not for my sake, then for the cows'.

Happy Birthday Miss H!

(Thanksgiving 1999)

From all of us!

(I promise to only hack your account for really important posts.

Love, your big sister!)

Post-Edit: To the Hacker, from the Hack-ee

Hacked by my own sister?!? Wait till my therapist hears about this.

Except I don’t have a therapist.

Ha! Wait till my dentist hears about this!

But he will probably just tell me that using the same password for everything is a bad idea. Dentists are pragmatic like that.

So I guess I will just say, “Thanks for the hack.”

Loves,
Me

Lovin' the Labor

This Sunday, Jolene, Sue, and I get to help with the Relief Society Lesson for 5th Ward's ward conference. The lesson title is, "Work and Personal Responsibility". One of the sections says, in part:

To some people work is a drudgery. To others it is an exciting part of life. One way to enjoy life’s fullest benefits is to learn to love work. Not all of us can choose the kind of work we do. Some of us labor for long hours for the bare necessities. It is difficult to enjoy such work. Yet the happiest people have learned to enjoy their work, whatever it is.

That got me thinking about my "work". It's not glamorous, like being a movie star. It's not illustrious, like being a brain surgeon. It's not relaxing like being a La-Z Boy quality control tester.

And it certainly isn't as dreamy as being an official Wrangler-fitter for the PRCA.
But, despite the junior high's distressing lack of rodeo cowboys (Although we are looking for a new boy's PE teacher for next year...I wonder if the principal would let me write the job description?), I can't imagine doing anything else.

Where else can improvement and productivity be encouraged and rewarded with the chance to find a piece of bubble gum in a bowl of flour, unwrap it, and chew it... all without using your hands?

This was a particularly good week to work at this particular junior high.

This week, the earth science classes had a competition to see who could build the most earthquake-resistant house.

It was almost as cool as last month's science and technology class's final project for their crime scene technician unit. As a suspect in the "murder" pictured below, I was finger printed and questioned about twenty six times. It was a blast. Although next year I am going to petition to be the victim or the actual bad guy. I would be a great bad guy...

This week was also spent getting ready for Random Acts of Kindness Week. The whole building looks like a somebody blew up a Care Bear convention and scattered their warm and fuzzy guts over the walls. Their notes were so sweet, I was able to overcome the urge to take to the halls with my red pen to correct their spelling and grammar.

And then there was Thursday's Valentine "dance". I popped in to take some yearbook photos and, after recovering from the overpowering perfume and cologne fumes, was pleased to see that a few of the kids were actually dancing.
And, even though my "lunch hour" is really 30 minutes wherein I scarf down an apple before hosting the "it's-too-cold-to-go-outside-today-can-we-stay-in-your-room" crowd, even "break time" isn't boring. Google may have an in-building work-out center for their employees, and Yahoo might let their programmers ride bikes through the hallways, but I doubt they have air band competitions at lunch. At least, not with air bands of this quality.
I feel very blessed to be one of those people who loves to go to "work". Even when the communications kidlets write on my chalkboard with the chalk that I hide from them so they can't write on my chalkboard.
As far as "work" goes, it doesn't get much better than this... until the PRCA gets around to processing my Wrangler-inspector application.

And that could be a summer job.

At least, for the days this summer when I'm not talent-scouting for a new PE teacher.

I can't wait to start listing the qualifications for that help wanted ad. Chaps might be involved.

I wonder if rodeo programs have help wanted sections...

A Very Moving Post

One week ago, my amazing family and friends helped me move... ... my books to their new home.

They helped to move a lot of other things too. Big things. Heavy things. Big and Heavy things. They moved them all.

And although I am so so so so so so so so grateful to them all for moving ALL of my things, it was the moving of my books that touched me the most.

Because books are very important to me, as you might recall from THIS 2008 POST.

Books are also very heavy. They are especially heavy, and awkward to carry, in the quantities in which I tend to acquire them. Not quite as heavy and awkward as my giant couch, but still.

So I want to say, "Thanks!" to everyone who helped my books and I get settled in our new place. I love you all more than I love my books. Which is really saying something.

Now, if I could only find some way for that love of reading to apply to all of the English essays and creative writing assignments that I was suppose to grade this weekend (insert exhausted sigh here) .

Or I could reread the Ranger's Apprentice series I just unpacked. Hummm....

Sorry, kidlets. Grades are over-rated anyway. Forget all of that A and B nonsense. It's more important for you to learn the joy and sense of accomplishment that comes from doing good work just for the sake of doing good work. That is a nice feeling.

Almost as nice as getting lost in a good book. You should try it sometime.

But not tonight.

You have pre-algebra homework to do tonight, and it can't be handed in late because, unlike your English teacher, your math teacher is going to actually grade your assignments at some point.

Moving On Up...

... Or down, as the case may be. It is a basement apartment, after all. A big, bright, beautiful basement apartment. Saturday is moving day, but my internet won't catch up to me until Tuesday. So until Tuesday, farewell, blogging buddies.

In Case You Missed Today's Special Stake Conference...

1. And it came to pass that, in the eighth month of the first year of the reign of President Jones, the High Council was sent forth to deliver a message unto all the stake.

2. And they did go forth unto every branch and every ward, even into the afar off wilderness of the Star wards, and this is the message which they did read unto the people:

3. “Hearken all ye members of the Burley West Stake, yea, even the true and living stake of Burley. We bring you good tidings of great meetings, which shall be for all stake members.

4. For behold, scheduled this week for an upcoming Sunday, there shall be an additional stake conference, even a third stake conference, which shall be called ‘special’.

5. And on that day a General Authority, even Elder Gonzales of the Presidency of the Seventy, shall speak unto us words of great worth.”

(The Stake Center)
6. And it came to pass, directly after these words had proceeded forth from the mouths of the high councilors, the people of the stake began to marvel. Yea, even before the high councilor’s suited behinds touched the seats of their chairs did the whispering and wondering commence.

7. There were many in the land who did quake and tremble, believing these things to be a sign of ward boundary changes.

8. And they did say unto one another, “Behold, we shall lose our beloved friends and our established benches. And what is worse, we may be sent into a ward wherein they are in need of scout leaders. And, if that should come to pass, wo be unto us.”

9. But there were others who did spread word throughout the stake that perhaps President Jones had been called to lead a mission, like unto President Sagers, and that yet another new President would be called.

10. Others did steadfastly believe that this new conference was to make recompense for the last, even the stake conference wherein the fire alarm did sound forth loud sounds of warning, even louder than the sounds of the crying babies and snoring High Priest Group leaders, for the space of 17 minutes.

11. But others, not believing in the re-do doctrine, did put forth the idea that the stake had been chosen to experiment upon new programs, like unto a two hour block wherein Sunday School would go the way of all the earth. And many did smile in their hearts at this thought.

12. And still there were others who did proclaim, only slightly in jest, that along with copies of the rest hymn, maps to Missouri might also be handed amongst the assembled people. Yea, and they began to Google “Adam-ondi-Ahman Real-estate ”, and great was the Google-ing thereof.

(Our Stake Presidency...Photo borrowed from President and Sister Peterson's blog)

13. And these theories, and more like unto them, did circulate amongst the people of the stake for many days and were shared over refreshments at Relief Society meetings, and at the close of pack meetings, and during halftime at high school basketball games. Yea, even in the aisles of Wal-Mart were these things discussed.

14. And when the days of preparation were accomplished and the stake conference, which is called Special, was to be held, people traveled from every corner of the stake to hear the words which the visiting general authority would speak.

15. And they did fill the chapel, and the gym, and the stage.

16. And more people did come, and they did fill the Relief Society Room, and the Young Women’s room.

17. And some people did sit on couches in the foyer, though if this sitting was by choice or out of necessity we know not.

18. And the parking lot was filled also, with cars and trucks of all descriptions. And it was whispered inside the hallways that some cars did contain walking shoes and mid-western-climate-appropriate clothing, just in case.

19. And the assembled people, as they did wait for the meeting to start, did watch their Stake President. And they did watch as he did pace near the door, and as he from time to time did rub his face. And the people did read great meanings into these things.

(The star of our last stake conference)
20. But when Elder Gonzales did arrive, and also Elder Rowe with him, then did President Jones’s countenance brighten. And when he did begin the meeting, he did immediately tell the people that boundary changes would not be forth coming.

21. And when the people did hear these things, joy did fill their hearts. And they did think upon their chosen and established benches and smile.

22. And then President Jones did speak unto the people, telling them: “Yea, the time has come when we as a stake must develop the courage and capacity to spread the gospel. We must extend invitations to meetings and activities to those who would not normally attend. But behold, this is not all. We must also make personal prayer , scripture study, and meaningful family home evenings regular occurrences in our homes."

23. And behold, after he had said these things he did sit down, and his relief and happiness were evident to all. And the people did begin to wonder if part of their beloved President’s relief was due to the guards placed round about every fire alarm in the building…
(Our visiting General Authority, Elder Gonzales)
24. And Sister Barger then did take the stand and did teach the people beautiful truths from the war chapters of Alma. And Krystal did bear a brief, but dedicated testimony, speaking even more swiftly than she swam in the Spudman, which is to say, pretty darn swiftly.

25. And then Elder Rowe did teach about the importance of grandparents , and he did counsel the people to turn the doors of their tents towards the temple. And none of the people did cringe at his mention of tents, feeling safe in the knowledge that they would not be switching to wards in need of scout leaders.

26. And when Elder Rowe did finish his speaking, Elder Gonzales did arise. And he did speak of his conversion to the gospel and his testimony of the Book of Mormon. And he did also speak of gratitude, and did express his own for the flower arrangements procured by Sister Jones.

27. And when he did finish expounding upon gratitude, he did counsel the assembled people to take time to ponder the things of the gospel, and to be willing to change our agendas to meet the needs we perceive in others.

(What the scouts should have sold in the foyer before the meeting today as a fund raiser.)

28. And when he had finished speaking, the people did indeed proclaim the conference “special”, and did feel a burning in their bosoms confirming to them the truths they had heard that day. And many also felt a tingling in their hindquarters confirming to them that they had been sitting on hard Church chairs. And great was the tingling thereof.

29. And so the people did return to their houses. Some to eat lunch, and others to nap, and others to unpack their bags that had been labeled, “Missouri or Bust.” And they did ponder the things taught at the conference in their hearts. And they did rejoice in the things they had felt.

30. But they did not erase their map quest directions to Missouri. Just in case.

Happy Birthday Mikey!

Today is my second-most-babiest-brother's 23rd birthday.

This story is from the talk my dad gave when Mikey was leaving to serve a mission in Brazil:

Mikey was born with paralyzed vocal cords and couldn’t make a sound, and when he was a month old, he began choking. The doctors told us that he would need surgery and that the results of the surgery would be that he would be able to speak, but never eat solid food or he would be able to eat, but not speak. We had to make the decision. Before we left for Primary Children's hospital, my Grandpa Fisher and I gave him a blessing that promised miraculous things. Still, when they took that little month old baby from me to take him into surgery, I didn’t know what to expect. But in the operating room, just as they were about to cut his throat to perform the surgery, he cried out loud for the first time.

After that, the miracle became getting Mikey to STOP talking. My dad also likes to tell this story...

One night, we came home and found that the usually extremely talkative 3-year-old Mikey wouldn't say a word. We were pretty worried, considering his medical history. Later we found out his brothers had told him, "Your voice box only contains 10,000 words for your lifetime, and you have already used over 9,000!"

Mikey somehow managed to survive his older brothers and turned into a pretty darn good guy.

My dad's talk ended like this:

Mike might have came with defective vocal cords but there has never been anything wrong with his HEART! He has had unconditional love from the day he was born. He has loved everyone and never questioned that Heavenly Father and everyone else loved him.

I remember when he was just 3 we had some brokers from Texas stop by our house and we were talking in the front yard. I ran in the house get something, and there was Mikey looking out the front window. He asked me, “Who are those guys?” I told him they were from Texas and they worked with me. Then he said, “They love me don’t they!”

Of course I answered, “Yes they do, Mikey”.

And we like him an awful lot too. Happy Birthday, Tyrannodorkus Rex.