Matthew and the Brazilian Emerald

Matthew and the Brazilian Emerald

by

Janene Baadsgaard

This is a special story
written for my amazing grandson Matthew
on his eighth birthday.
I love you Matthew.
Keep looking for treasures . . .


Once there was a boy named Matthew who was a marvel at finding treasure. He discovered shiny white rocks in his driveway, slimy snails in the bushes and blue robin eggs in a nest in a maple tree in his yard. What Matthew wanted to discover most of all was a beautiful sparkling green emerald. Whenever he told his mom he wanted an emerald she laughed and told him to practice the piano, do his homework, brush his teeth or go to bed.
So Matthew saved his money. He mowed the lawn for the neighbors. He took care of his friend’s dog when his family went on vacation. He saved the birthday money his grandparents gave him.
When Matthew had saved $36.17 he went to his mother and asked her if their family could go on an emerald hunt in the Brazilian jungle.
“You know we can’t go on vacations like that,” his mother answered. “Your brother Caleb is not well and we can’t take him far from home.
Matthew loved his brother so he understood. Then Mathew’s mother smiled for a delightful idea had blossomed in her heart.
“Would you like to go to a museum where they have lots of special gems,” Matthew’s mother asked.
“Yes!” Matthew answered. “Can we take Caleb too?”
So Matthew, his mother and his brother took a day trip to the museum at the university near their home. A professor of rocks talked to Matthew and showed him drawer after drawer of precious gems from all over the world. That’s when Matthew decided he was going to be a professor of rocks when he grew up.
On their way home Matthew, his brother and his mother stopped by the dollar store. While Matthew was looking at the candy, his mother secretly found some treasures of her own. Later that evening while Matthew was eating cake and ice cream with his grandma and grandpa, Matthew’s mother secretly slipped outside.
Then a knock came at their front door. Matthew answered it.
“I heard this is the place where I might find emeralds,” the man at the door said. Matthew recognized him. He was the professor of rocks from the university. “Do you mind if I do some digging in your back yard?”
“You won’t find any,” Matthew said. “I’ve already checked.”
“You never know,” the doctor said. “Sometimes all you need is a learned guide.”
So Matthew and the professor walked into his back yard. The professor searched each patch of dirt around the bushes with his magnifying glass and special treasure rod. Some times the professor scratched his head then looked at Matthew’s mother as he searched.
“There,” the doctor finally said, “I think you should dig there.”
Matthew took the professor’s hand shovel and started digging. All of a sudden the shovel hit something hard. Mathew excitedly reached inside the hole, grabbed a small box and lifted it up into his lap. Then he slowly opened the lid. Staring up at him was a box was full of sparkly green gems.
“Sometimes the best treasures are in your own backyard,” the professor said.
Matthew didn’t hear him. He was dashing into the house to share his emeralds with his brother.

Christmas Gifts

“Kids!” Mom yelled after I heard the front door slam shut. “Come here quick!”
I’ll never forget what my mother asked of me that Christmas Eve when I was nine years old. Mom was the Relief Society President in our LDS ward which meant she helped the bishop take care of the poor in our area.
“There’s a family in our neighborhood that doesn’t have anything for Christmas,” Mom said brushing the snow off her coat. “They haven’t asked for any help but I’ve been in their home and there is no tree, no presents or food. They just moved here from Hawaii. The stores are closed. We’ll have to put together a box from what we have. I want each of you to go to your room, pick out your favorite possession and bring it to me. We want our gift box to be the very best we have.”
Then my mother read from a piece of paper filled with the names and ages of the children in this family to help us in our search. There was a girl on the list just my age named Linda. I imagined what she looked like. She would be bare footed, dressed in rags and shivering with the cold. So I bounded up the stairs to my bedroom to find something especially nice.
I was feeling enormously generous as I spied each possession on the shelf above my desk. First I saw my jewelry box, my third favorite possession. Then I spied my collection of books, my second favorite possession. Then I saw her, my favorite doll. She was still inside the plastic case she came in. I’d never taken such good care of anything in my entire nine years. She was a delicate ballerina who possessed all the grace and beauty I lacked.
I can give away anything but that doll, I remember thinking. But Mom said it had to be my favorite. I carefully took the doll from the shelf. Then something occurred to me. No one knows this is my favorite, I thought. I could give something else and no body would know. I put my favorite doll back on the shelf and reached for my jewelry box. Then I took several steps toward the door. But I know, I remember thinking.
I walked back to the shelf, set the jewelry box down and reached for my doll. I walked slowly downstairs and placed her ever so carefully inside a large cardboard box filled with food and other gifts from my siblings. I didn’t want my brother or sisters to make fun of me so I saved my tears until I was alone in my bed that night.
Several days later I was sitting in Sunday school at church when my teacher introduced me to a new girl in my class.
“This is Linda,” my teacher said. “She just moved here from Hawaii.”
My heart jumped. This was the little girl from the family my mother told me about. I visualized her family opening the door on Christmas Eve with such wonder and delight that it took away some of the sting of parting with my doll.
“Did you have a nice Christmas?” I asked Linda.
“Our things from Hawaii didn’t come yet so we spent Christmas with my Grandparents,” Linda said. “They fed us a feast and gave us lots of presents. Then as an afterthought she blurted out, “Somebody left a box of junk on our doorstep on Christmas Eve like they thought we were poor or something.”
I felt like someone had just kicked me in the stomach. I could picture my favorite doll in a rusting garbage can covered with old rotting food.
It has taken years for me to put some perspective on that Christmas Eve when I was nine. I have come to understand that how a beneficiary receives a gift does not diminish the giver or the significance of the gift offered. That tiny babe in the manger still reaches out to all. How we receive Christ’s love is our gift to God.
Because of that experience long ago, I look around me each Christmas morning and ask, “What is my favorite possession? Can I give it away?” Though my possessions are larger now and more expensive - baby grand piano, comfortable home, new car - if I can truthfully answer yes, I am at peace.

Thoughts On Gratitude

Happy Thanksgiving! Here are a few thoughts I wanted to share on gratitude.

Gratitude is the best non-prescription antidepressant in the world. I've never met a grateful person who was not happy - or a happy person who was not grateful. Gratitude allows us to enjoy life before things get better. In fact, when we want what we have, we always get what we want.

No one likes to be around complainers. When we focus our thoughts on what we're grateful for, we make the best of what life hands us. Gratitude awakens us to the miracles all around us - the road we drive on, warm water for our shower and fresh food to eat in the winter.

Gratitude moves us to share laughter and make loving human connections. Gratitude invites us to feel at peace about our past, gives us the capacity to experience true joy today and allows us to create a hopeful vision for tomorrow.

Life isn't easy. Yet once we accept that life is difficult, a series of problems to face and work through, it ceases to be so hard. When we accept life as it is, we are free to embrace it - to live life fully and intimately. Just being alive for one more day is a grand thing.

True wealth is an inner awareness we attain by taking personal inventory of our present assets - health, friends, family, work, food and shelter. If we don't appreciate what we have, more will never be enough.

One of the best parts of growing older is that most of those things we wanted and couldn't afford when we were young we no longer want. We learn to relish simplicity. The less we want the more we have. The simpler we make our lives, the more abundant they become. Spending unhurried hours with those you love is priceless.

The joy of life is the journey. This is it. It doesn't get better than this. So we can stop waiting. We can eat more ice-cream, go barefoot, watch more sunsets, laugh more and cry less. Life is to be lived and loved as we go along. Like a roller coaster ride; it's the hills and valley that make it a thrill. The secret of life is to be grateful for the whole breathtaking ride.

My Daughter's Research

The following is an article written about my daughter Aubrey in an on-line publication called "Under the Microscope"


Part One
by Sam Lemonick
Thursday, 12 November 2009
In the 1920s archaeologist Sir Leonard Woolley began a dig that captured the world's attention like the discovery of King Tut's tomb had five years before. Digging at the site of the Mesopotamian city of Ur, thought to be the home of the Bible's Abraham, he had uncovered 4,000-year-old tombs which held royalty, untold wealth in jewelry and ornaments, and soldiers and servants who had died with their masters.
Many of the attendants’ bodies were buried with ceremonial goblets nearby, and Woolley reported that these men and women had drunk poison so they could follow their masters into the afterlife. The artifacts and some of the bodies were sent back to the museums which sponsored the expedition, among them the University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology in Philadelphia. Now, some 80 years later, a new exhibit at the Penn Museum features recent research that suggests the royal attendants met a much more gruesome end than Woolley thought.

The exhibit and the discoveries behind it are the product of four women's work over the last several years. Archaeologist Aubrey Baadsgard was the first to start looking at the Ur artifacts again. For help determining how the attendants died, she turned to physical anthropologist Janet Monge and her undergraduate researcher Samantha Cox. Now their work is available to the public thanks to Kate Quinn, the lead exhibition designer at the Penn Museum.
This all started as Baadsgard's dissertation on the jewelry found on the bodies of the royalty and their attendants, many pieces of which are in the collection at the Penn Museum. Also at Penn are two attendants' skulls, which were found flattened by the weight of centuries of accumulated dirt. Baadsgard was interested in making digital models of these skulls that could show how jewelry might have been worn. She approached Monge, who was already working on a project funded by the National Science Foundation to build a database of models of the museum's skulls that could be used by researchers worldwide.

Although Baadsgard was looking at jewelry, she also hoped that the CT scans and other modern investigative techniques might point to the truth about the attendents' deaths. For years Woolley's conclusion that the servants had drunk poison went unchallenged, but there was reason to be suspicious. Goblets had been found at many other excavations of Mesopotamian graves, both group and individual, and seemed to be associated with funerary feasts rather than poisoning.

For Baadsgard, working on the Ur skulls was the culmination of a dream. "I remember telling someone when I was twelve that I was going to get a Ph.D. in archaeology," she says. "I had it as my goal and it was goal ever since. I never really looked back, I just did what it took." Archaeology was a much broader horizon than anything else she knew in the small town in Utah where she grew up. Field research as a Brigham Young University undergraduate in Petra, Jordan (site of the temple in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade), solidified her interest in archaeology. She went to Penn for her doctorate because she would have access to the collections at the Penn Museum, which are some of the largest in the country. Now she sees herself following in the footsteps of Gertrude Bell, who in the 1920s was the first director of antiquities in Iraq.

My Hero

I ran a race along side my daughter last week. I watched April push Caleb’s stroller in the 5K run with a smile and a friendly wave to each person she saw along the way.

April has been running a marathon with her son for almost five years now. Because Caleb was born without a brain she has lovingly cared for him 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Only those close to her know the hills and valleys she has to face - the constant life and death struggle it is to keep her son alive.

April has been Caleb’s legs so he can run, his voice so he can speak, his hands reaching out to others when he can’t move.

As her mother I watch from the stands in awe.

April you are my hero.

A Decorated Veteran Dies on Veteran's Day

Today I looked over my fence into my neighbor's yard and saw a sea of American flags waving in the breeze. It was a magical moment - a stirring tribute - a deeply touching display of honor for Bill Rawlings by his children.

Bill died yesterday . . . on Veteran's Day. I can't think of a more fitting benediction to a man who served his country with honor. Bill was in most of the major battles in Europe during World War II and saw things no man should have to see. What kept him going and gave him the will to survive was a sweetheart waiting stateside. Ann wrote to him several times a week. They'd met in junior high and it was love at first sight. If he made it home alive they were going to get married. Bill made it home. They raised seven wonderful children together.

Now there are 86 flags standing stately in Bill's yard, each representing one year of his life and 5 more for each of the major campaigns he fought in.

Bill has been in frail health for several years. But he has been determined to stay alive so he could take care of his sweetheart.

I think God looked down on this couple who had cared for each other with such tenderness for so long and granted their greatest wish . . . that they wouldn't have to be separated for long. Ann died two weeks ago.

Not many couples get to leave this life so close together. Not many honored veterans die on Veteran's Day. Not many couples have such a storybook ending to a rich and beautiful life.

I love you Bill and Ann. I'll miss you.

Sophia and the Diamond Bracelet

Once upon a time there was a little girl named Sophia who loved everything sparkly. One day Sophia and her mother were walking through a fancy department store. There in a clear glass case, Sophia spied a sparkly bracelet.
“Oh, Mommy, can I have that?” Sophia asked.
“No honey. That is a diamond bracelet. Only rich people can buy that.”
“What’s rich mean?” Sophia asked.
“That means people with lots of money.”
“We have money.”
“Not enough for a diamond bracelet.”
“I wish we were rich,” Sophia said.
That night Sophia took a bath, brushed her teeth and climbed into bed.
When her mother tucked her in, she stroked her forehead and sang Sophia’s favorite song. . .
On the wings of angels God sent you to me
Close your eyes little one - I’ll watch over thee
Sleep tight my precious child, sleep little lamb
Mommy’s always here for you wherever I am
The angels in heaven watch over thy head
Till night time is over – light covers thy head

That night Sophia had a bad dream. Trembling, she slipped from her blankets and tip-toed into her mother’s bedroom.
“Mommy,” Sophia said, “I had a scary dream.”
“I know just what to do,” her mother said. “First we need a soft blanket and Grandma’s rocking chair.”
Sophia took her mother’s warm hand as they walked into the front room.
“Wait, just one minute,” Sophia’s mother said as she opened the front door and moved the rocking chair out onto the front porch.
Sophia was puzzled. Her mother had never moved their rocking chair outside.
“Sophia,” her mother whispered as she grabbed a blanket. “Are you ready?”
Sophia nodded unsure what was going to happen next. Her mother wrapped Sophia up tight in a soft blanket like a cocoon with only her face peeking out. Then she carried her outside into the dark night. They both snuggled deep into the rocking chair. Then Sophia’s mother rocked her back and forth, back and forth. Before long Sophia stopped trembling. She felt cozy. Each time they rocked back and forth Sophia could hear Grandma’s rocking chair creek. Back and forth, back and forth they rocked together until Sophia’s breathing slowed and every part of her body felt warm.
“Do you know why Grandma’s rocking chair is special?” her mother asked.
“Why?” Sophia asked.
“Once when I was a little girl I had the croup and I couldn't breathe. My mommy bundled me up until only my face was peeking out and then she brought me outside and held me close in this rocking chair. She rocked me back and forth, back and forth until I could breathe better.”
“Were you scared?” Sophia asked.
“Yes, I was scared,” Sophia’s mother answered. “My mother said the cold air helped me breathe better. But I knew it was my mommy and the stars.”
“Stars?” Sophia asked.
“While she rocked me, my mommy told me to look up. I saw thousands of sparkly lights in the black sky. She told me those lights were angels watching over little children. She told me God lets mothers who love their children watch over them always even when they live far apart. Those stars are mother’s eyes winking at their children just to let them know they’ll always be there and they’ll always love them.”
Sophia looked up into the black sky and saw countless twinkling lights.
“They look like diamonds,” Sophia said.
Sophia’s mother smiled as a happy idea came into her heart. Then she winked at her little daughter and sang her favorite song again as they rocked back and forth.
And as she sang, Sophia watched the sky and all the mothers winking at their children. Sophia fell asleep listening to her mother whisper, “I love you Sophia. I’ll love you forever.”
The next thing Sophia remembered was waking up in her own bed. She ran quickly to the front room looking for her mother. The first thing she saw was Grandma’s rocking chair. Then Sophia saw something sparkling in the early morning light. She rubbed her eyes and looked again. There on the seat of the rocking chair was a bracelet filled with tiny clear gems winking at her.
“Are they really diamonds?” Sophia asked as she placed the bracelet on her wrist.
“Close enough,” her mother answered.
“We’re rich,” Sophia said whirling in the circle.
“Yes,” her mother answered. “So very, very rich.”

Telling Caleb's Story

The following is a newspaper column I wrote for my precious grandson.




In my family we have a secret code to communicate our love for each other when we are out in public. We wink. When one of us is about to perform or speak, we look for a family member’s face in the crowd. Then we wink at each other. Closing one eye and winking is our secret code for saying, “I love you. You can do it. You’re wonderful.”
Almost five years ago, my grandson Caleb was born into our family. He must have known before birth that he would never be able to speak to us because he was born with one eyelid permanently closed. So, he is always “winking” at us, always communicating, “I love you. You can do it. You’re wonderful.”
Caleb has one eye lid permanently closed because he is missing one of his eyes . . . and he is also missing his brain. All the doctors said he would die soon after birth. They were wrong. He is a medical miracle. The doctors say he can’t see, hear, speak, think or move. Those who know and love Caleb understand he has his own unique way of experiencing the world and communicating his love to those around him.
After Caleb was born the hospice people told us to buy a burial plot and continually warned us of his imminent death. We soon learned you can not live well in a state of fear and sadness. We decided we could spend Caleb’s entire life anxious and scared he might die at any moment, or we could celebrate each day we were blessed to have him with us. In the beginning, my daughter April celebrated Caleb’s birthday every week instead of every year with balloons and cupcakes because we simply did not know how long we would have him with us. We stopped the cupcakes after we gained ten pounds, but the celebrating goes on.
We all prayed for a miracle when we first learned about Caleb’s condition. We got one. Caleb’s birth, life and mission have had a deep and lasting impact on our lives. His spirit, eternal identity and most of all the loving, individual relationship he has with each of us is truly a miracle. Because of Caleb we know that each of us has a divine purpose and that the physical body is a sacred gift we should never take for granted. We better understand the worth of a soul and the resiliency of the human spirit.
Caleb’s older brother Matthew said, “Grandma. The doctors said Caleb was going to die, but he didn’t. That’s the first miracle I ever saw!”
Sometimes the only intervention that can get Caleb’s heart rate up is when his older brothers Josh and Matty crawl in his crib, hug him and sing, “I am a Child of God.”

Caleb has a mission. His life matters.

People in my daughter's neighborhood often knock on her door and ask if they can spend time with Caleb. Why? Being with Caleb gives people peace and joy. Every time I'm with Caleb I feel a little closer to heaven. In a busy world Caleb invites us to slow down and listen. Caleb communicates spirit to spirit. You can't hear what he has to say if you don't stop and listen with your heart.

Even though Caleb has never been able to utter a single word he has taught everyone who knows and loves him – all the secrets of a rich and meaningful life.

My Grandson Caleb is in the News

April and Dallan Moody with their four boys Joshua, Matthew, Caleb and Mitchel.


The following article by Michael Rigert was printed in the Daily Herald about my grandson Caleb on Saturday Nov 7th. It is difficult to describe in words how much true joy Caleb has brought into our family. Our whole family took part in this event on Saturday. We were so touched by all the people who came to support us.


"Caleb Moody has been selected as the focus child for three Orem schools' annual benefit run in partnership with Make A Wish Foundation. Four-years old, Caleb was born with hydrocephalus, or water on the brain, but his mother, April Moody said her son is an inspiration to their family.


Spend a few moments with 4-year-old Caleb Moody of Orem and it's easy to recognize there's something special about the little boy born with hydrocephalus, or water on the brain, said his mother, April Moody.

Despite being born with most of his brain missing and having limited physical and mental abilities, Dallan and April Moody say their third of four boys has been a blessing in their family. Because only one of his eyes formed, the family refers to Caleb as their "Wink from Heaven."

"Anyone who meets him can't deny the big spirit he has inside. It's very subtle, the way he communicates, but very real," April Moody said. "It's just a privilege that we get to take care of someone so special and pure."

When Caleb was born, doctors were very skeptical, referred the family to hospice care and guessed he wouldn't live more than a few weeks. But the Moody family took those emotional lemons about Caleb and turned them into lemonade. April Moody said the family chose to live each day they had with Caleb with joy.

"We had a birthday party for him every week," she said.

Today three Orem schools -- Mountain View High School, Lakeridge Junior High and Orem Elementary -- are joining forces as part of their Family Month activities to raise money for the Make-A-Wish Foundation that helps fulfill wishes of terminally ill children and their families. For a sixth consecutive year, the schools are holding a benefit Family Fun Run at Orem Elementary, 400 W. 400 South, to assist Make-A-Wish in ensuring that the wishes of children like Caleb and his family come true.

Carol Jean Bishop, family life commissioner for the Mountain View and Lakeridge PTAs, said the annual event has become something that students and community families rally around. In recent years, upwards of 800 participants have come out for the 1-mile or 5K fun run or walk. Last year's event raised $7,000.

"One way it has helped teenagers in high school and junior high is for them to get out of themselves for a moment," she said. "They see someone disadvantaged who they can help out."

In recent weeks, the student councils at Mountain View and Lakeridge have held Family Fun Run assemblies and rallies to get students excited about helping families like Caleb's. In concert with the Family Month theme, the event also gets families walking or jogging together, Bishop said.

The per person Family Fun Run entry fee, $7 or $5 if pre-registered, is kept purposely low so families can still afford to contribute. And the event itself is aimed at being physically inclusive so that even the very young or senior families members can get involved, she said.

The schools also make individual contributions for music and food, and there is a raffle for prizes donated by local businesses.

What's Caleb's wish? April Moody said she and her husband would like to find a way to set up a special swing, either inside or outside their home, perhaps as part of a playset, where Caleb can enjoy spending time with his family.

"He just loves to be with his brothers, to be rocked, to be outside," she said. "We wanted to find a way the kids can make memories playing together."

April Moody said her family is amazed at and grateful for the public outpouring, from friends and neighbors, to the efforts of the three Orem schools trying to make a real difference in someone's life.

"To show it in such a neat way has touched us to the core," she said. "We are forever changed. My kids are at ages where it's teaching them that wishes really come true. ... I think they're also learning that we can make wishes come true for each other."

Giving Thanks

The other day I was feeling like a martyr – the invisible maid at my house who fixes the meals and cleans up after everybody with little or no thanks. Then I began to wonder. Who are the invisible servants in my life? Who are the people who work hard to make my life pleasant - and I don’t even notice? Who am I forgetting to acknowledge and thank? It didn’t take long before I discovered I too am guilty of not appreciating those who serve me.
That day while I was grinding wheat to make bread, I really looked at the individual kernels. Then I thought about the person who grew, harvested and shipped this nutritious food source to me. Though we will never know each other, I thought about my new found benefactors and thanked them. After I took the hot loaves from the oven, I sliced a steaming hot piece of bread for each of my children. As I spread the butter and honey on top of each slice I thought about the people who had fed and milked the cows and those who gathered and packed the honey. I thought about the bees going from flower to flower - and paused.
A simple slice of homemade bread was available to me through the hard work and generosity of countless others. I thought about the trucker who drove these products to market and the person who stocked the food at the grocery store. I thought about the people who made the road for the truckers. I thought about my husband going to work every day so I could have the money to buy the food. It took an army of people to feed me and my children. Why was I worried about being unappreciated for my simple part in this great chain? I played a small part among the countless people who made a simple meal possible for me and my family every day. It occurred to me - I live off the hard work of others every single day - and I barely notice.
Later in the day I paid attention to each piece of clothing I was wearing and thought about the people who grew the cotton, made the cloth, cut the pattern and sewed the shirt. Then I remembered my whole closet full of clothes all sewn by unseen hands. Someone raised the sheep and produced the wool for my winter coat. Someone raised cattle and produced the leather for my shoes. I’d never even thought about or thanked any of these people.
That night as I observed the deep purples and ambers as the sun dipped into the horizon, I wondered again. How many sunrises and sunsets have I ignored? How many breaths have I taken without a thought to the creator? My life is a gift from an unseen benefactor – who prefers to remain anonymous.
Life’s simplest pleasures are truly gifts to be noticed and appreciated. Whether we perceive our daily blessings and give quiet thanks or not, our unseen benefactors keep the gifts coming. Perhaps the best way to express gratitude for our personal bounty is to do our own work with a little less self pity and a little more joy. At life’s end we will discover the greatest reward we receive for the work we do is not what we get but who we become. Common tasks performed with great love create the kind of riches money can’t buy.

Halloween Fun

The swine flu came to my house for Halloween. Kinda of scary don't you think?

Remembering Ann

My neighbor Ann Rawlings died. She was buried after her funeral yesterday. She is my neighbor . . . and my friend. She and her husband Bill moved in next to me seventeen years ago as a retired couple. I have grown to love them as if they are my own family.
When I walked into the viewing room and saw Bill seated in a chair next to Ann's casket with his head bowed I couldn't hold back the tears.
"I don't know what to do," Bill said while I put my arms around his neck.

Bill and Ann Rawlings truly love each other. On my dozens of visits to their home they always expressed their gratitude for life and retold the story of how they met.

While I sat at their kitchen table with Ann's daughters as they planned her funeral, I looked into their beautiful dark eyes and saw pieces of their mother looking back at me . . . the way she laughed . . . the way she held her hands. And I realized Ann lives on in those she left behind.

I've heard it said that we die when we've learned what we came to learn or when we've taught what we came to teach. I think Ann did both.

At her funeral her children remembered her soft hands on their cheeks and her spagetti dinners. It seems as though it is the little things we do that turn out to be the big things.

As her grandchildren and great-grandchildren walked to the stand at the church to sing "I Am A Child of God" at her funeral I waited at the piano to accompany them. In each face I saw a look, a smile, a gesture of my friend and neighbor.

Snow fell yesterday - a soft benediction to Ann's life . . . so filled with gentleness and grace.

BYU Football Game Musings

I went to a BYU football game tonight. There's nothing like a crisp fall night, green grass, eager young men, the roar of the crowd . . . and then . . . the inevitable winning or losing.

Because I am a mother whose son played football I see the winning and losing part differently now. The know about all the time and effort that goes into being on a football team. I know about the long practices, the painful injuries, the competition for positions and the personal disappointment that follows losing an important game.

I remember telling my son after a heartbreaking loss, "Jacob, maybe it's not so much about winning or losing, but putting everything you have on the field so you can walk away knowing you gave it all you had."

"Yeah I know all that Mom, but it still hurts," Jacob answered.

Now when I go home from a game where my team didn't win, I think about all those young men who gave their best to an effort that didn't work out the way they planned.

Life has taught me that we all have good game days and bad game days, winning seasons and losing seasons - yet one thing I also know about life . . . it goes on. There is always a new day coming and many more seasons left to play.

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Each day I love to take a walk in my own back yard and contemplate what it means to be alive. Today I found our pitch fork standing alone in a garden that is now harvested and gone and a previously green tree suddenly filled with gold. I was reminded how quickly the seasons change - how brief each day, each life . . .


and in my mind came the words of Robert Frost . . .
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

Fall Break Adventures

This week-end we explored Goblin Valley - nature's wonderland. We spent hours hiking and exploring.



I think many of us are nature-starved. Our spirit longs for all things real - sand, sky, mountains and trees.

























Our children created their own fun at our camp site by building rock forts and whole cities in the coral pink sand. That night we slept next to magnificent red rock cliffs and studied the stars in the night sky.





On Friday we hiked the narrow slot canyon eight mile loop trail from Little Wild Horse Canyon to Bell's Canyon. Countless past years of wind and water have created unique sandstone beauty that has to be experienced first hand.