Many Missionaries Mean Mucho Blessings

In less than one week our sixth missionary (three men and three women) of the family will be embarking on her mission entering the MTC (Missionary Training Center). There are three from Paula's family and three from Keri's (serving at the same time). At the MTC young men and women from around the world come together to prepare to serve the Lord.

"Each Wednesday several hundred missionaries enter the Provo MTC and others throughout the world. The eager missionaries enter an exciting world of learning. The MTC curriculum consists of up to 12 weeks of studying doctrine, learning to teach the gospel of Jesus Christ effectively, and developing excellent communication skills." (from website)

Dean, who has been serving the longest is in Florida.

Stephanie is in Arizona. She has helped with a temple open house, had Emily as a companion for one day doing splits and will return in February.

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Lisa is serving in Arkansas and about half way through with her mission. She has braved tornadoes, storms and bugs

Derrick left in August for Georgia. His apartment is next door to a gentleman that Dean taught in Florida (small world).

Brandon, the youngest of the group, just arrived in Brazil less than twenty-four hours ago. He waited the longest from receiving his call to leaving, and is more than ready to begin.

Emily, the oldest and only one who has a college degree, will leave for Guam after her training at the MTC. She is the last to go.

Your great grandfathers would be so proud you are carrying on the work of the Lord. May His blessings rain down upon you and your families.

Seeing the Past in the Present

I was recently at a museum and took pictures of some things we used to use, such as a butter churn, treadle sewing machine and an old ice box refrigerator. These items take me back to: The days when there was enough sour cream from the cow milking, that Mom got the butter churn out. She filled it with the old sour cream. We were tasked to turn the wheel until it thickened to butter. It seemed to take forever, but everything to a child is a long time. Rinsing the buttermilk out of the butter, adding some yellow dye and salt, was a mother's job. We liked butter until margarine came out. The novelty of it in the rectangular cubes and its salty taste took over until we were adults. Getting a finger full of margarine then sticking it into sugar, then popping it in our mouth was a divine and quick treat. Today, I can't imagine what we were thinking and can't stand margarine.

An abandoned Old Ice Box full of discarded magazines stood in my grandparents yard for years. The cousins and I played house with it, opening and closing the door as the weeds grew and were pulled to make room for our playmaking. Many a child suffocated in old refrigerators after being locked in. We never tried that because it was full of old stuff.

Talk about old stuff, Grandma Crane's Singer treadle sewing machine, was used almost everyday to make dresses, mend overalls and create master pieced quilts. Her size five feet pressed that treadle back and forth, up and down for many years until Grandpa bought her a new electric Singer. She died before it wore out, but many of us wanted to have that faithful machine. I always think of her when I see an old Singer.

We begin to appreciate our past when we see it in the present and know it no longer exists except in our mind.

Memories of Mom

We recently celebrated my mother's birthday. We got together for dinner. It is funny how old, simple items spark your memory of those things we took for granted and don't give another thought to until they are gone.

Mom loved making Chiffon and angel food cakes. We gobbled them up almost faster than it took to bake them. Having an unlimited supply of eggs from the farm, helped because these cakes take eight eggs each.

When the new automatic clothes washers came on the market in the '60's, Mom was too loyal to her Twin Tub Dexter. She wouldn't even consider getting one. "They don't make the clothes as clean," she said.

She was an expert bread maker often telling us the secret was in the kneading of the dough. Without fail, her loaves were trophy pieces on display at the house for the afternoon. In one meal a loaf would be inhaled and enjoyed to the max. Yup, it is wonderful to reflect on what made her special and unique.

Hailing a Hay Baler Near You

Most of first crop hay has been put in the stack or hauled to the barn. Second crop hay is just a week or so away. And wouldn't you know it a storm is threatening. No one is surprised, but the secret is knowing when to cut the alfalfa so it will dry and be baled before or between storms, to avoid mold from the moisture. Dad also did custom cutting and baling, so we were always pushing to finish. If the hay was too dry, we baled at night or early in the morning. This early morning sunrise farm picture with bales in the field, reminded me of the days we marched to the beat of the swather, baler and bales. I can smell the rich, warm grassy odor now, and hear the song of a meadow lark singing. Both take me back to the good ole' days of my youth.

Have Farmer Will Travel

Dad wore overalls all the time. The striped train engineer type. It was weird to see him in a pair of regular pants. He had hats to match, too. We children, were his workers. He had us free of charge, and we loved it.

This is the time of year as teens we were bailing hay and helping with the farm. I considered myself an expert baler. A few times when the machine was plugged and the sheer bolts had broken, I was able to climb under the clogged area, pull out the pins and replace them with new ones. After pulling out all the dry hay, I was able to continue on. I was so proud to be able to solve the problem and finish the job.

Graduation Day 1970

I have a watch given to my on my graduation day with my name and date of the event engraved on the back. I remember how thrilled I was to receive the watch from my parents. It was the most thoughtful and precious thing they could have given me. I wore the watch forever until it fell apart, but still have it for the memories. Thanks Mom & Dad.

Three Years Ago She Went Home

This month marks three years since Mom passed away. Even though it has gone quickly, I still think of her when I read an obituary she would have called to tell me about. I can hear her voice on the phone now. When I meet people she would have known, I want to tell her about it. Her skirts, aprons, knick knacks and many possessions grace the walls of our homes and hearts. I'm so glad we took this four generation photo to keep the memory alive. Here's to a great, patient and wonderful mother. Thank you and Love you forever.