Beautiful Video of The Last Days of Jesus Christ

If you're looking for a beautiful video on the last days of Jesus Christ to watch as part of your Easter observance click here.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bAuaSpJ7zGs

If you're looking for words of encouragement click here.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=coef8G5ax6E

Celebrating Easter In Your Own Backyard

One year I visited the Holy Land with a burning desire to walk the paths where the Savior walked. I was studying the Old and New Testament and felt drawn to Israel in a youthful search for deeper spirituality. During the week I was a volunt...eer at an archaeological dig in the Negev desert. On weekends, I traveled Israel discovering the sights I’d only read about in the Bible.
Even though it has been decades since that trip, each Easter I recall the specific moment when the whole world became my garden. Let me tell you how it happened.
One weekend, I spent the day at the Wailing Wall and in the crowded markets of Old Jerusalem. I was hot, tired, hungry and didn’t look forward to going back to sleep at the youth hostel where I was staying because it was filthy and dark. I longed for a place to think, to gather my disappointed desires and try to make sense of why I came here.
I remember walking through Damascus Gate, crossing the road and hiking uphill. That is when I found it - an oasis in this sea of chaos – the Garden Tomb. I stepped inside and sighed. This quiet secluded walled in Garden was filled with ancient trees that created welcome shade as they swayed in the late afternoon breeze. Multi-colored flowers lined the walkways. I took my time exploring. When I found the tomb, carved from the stone hillside in one section of the garden, I bowed and looked inside. The cold cavern was empty. A sudden electric soul reverence ran down my spine as I contemplated what had happened in this place. I stepped back in wonder. Still visible were the grooves where a large stone was once rolled in front. I never wanted to leave.
Later I climbed a hill in back of the garden and looked toward Golgotha where Jesus is said to have been crucified. That is when I heard the stark noises of heavy traffic, shouts of angry bus drivers and smelled exhaust fumes in the air. The abrupt contrast was disappointing. Even here in this holy place there was no lasting peace. I walked back into the garden and sat down on a bench to think. Before I came to Israel I didn’t know that every significant event in the life of Christ had several sites claiming to be the real place where the occurrence took place. I felt disillusioned and disappointed. Why did something so significant have to be so confusing and commercial?
That was the moment when I glanced up and noticed the sun slowly slipping into the horizon. Quite unexpectedly a sudden shimmering glow cast a heavenly light on everything around me transforming the garden into a dreamlike state. It took my breath away. Then, just as suddenly, the golden light was gone, the air grew cold and shadows inched across the garden floor. An unexpected gust of wind sent leaves twirling to the ground. The day was ending.

Then, as if I was awakening from a deep sleep, I perceived a divine pattern . . . light and dark . . . spring and winter . . . morning and night . . . birth and death. I understood that even as this day was ending, another would begin at dawn. Even though the leaves were falling, they would form the earth through which new life would emerge next spring. I would die; yet I would live. That is the moment when I realized it wasn’t the site that was important but the event that took place there.

I understood that whether I was in the Garden Tomb in Israel - or in my own back yard – the miracle of Easter was going on everywhere around and inside me every day. The whole earth was indeed holy land - a witness of God’s great love for all of us.
Now each spring as we celebrate Easter my thoughts return to the Garden Tomb and the gentle awakening I experienced there. For now I know we don’t need to be in the Holy Land to experience the significance of what took place there. The miracles of Easter are manifest all around us every day - and most wonderfully, within ourselves.Pin It

TAKING CARE OF THOSE WHO CAN'T TAKE CARE OF THEMSELVES IS A MISSION WORTH OUR BEST EFFORTS

I remember the years when I was basically home bound with many young children. Sometimes I wondered if I should be doing something more important “out there.” On my hard days I had moments when I wondered if I was throwing myself away for c...hildren who didn’t seem to appreciate anything I was doing for them. When we are mothers of young children we are generally young ourselves or at least new to being a parent. It is not easy to painstakingly extract our selfishness. So we hang on as long as possible, hoping someone will eventually appreciate all we do. One day it dawns on us – the eyes God see everything and that’s enough.
Most of our behavior with our young children is a private experience even they won’t remember – consciously. Yet there is another memory of the heart – a deep personal feeling we carry inside that tells us if we are loveable or unlovable, safe or unsafe and whether or not we can trust others. We learn these things from our parents and we take those feelings with us when we leave home.
On those hard days when the baby is screaming, the toddler paints his entire bedroom in petroleum jelly, and the preschooler gouges the new sofa with a butcher knife it’s hard not to feel like you’re going to go crazy. Feeling overwhelmed is a chronic parenting condition. It’s not easy to work very hard every day without pay, recognition or reward for little people who throw up all over us, scream in our face and throw things at our head. It’s not easy to fix nutritious meals that mostly wind up on the floor. It’s not easy to clean a house that is being destroyed even as we work. It’s not easy to be romantic with our spouse when we haven’t even had a chance to take a shower all day. It’s not easy to be a parent of young children. It takes years to grow into our role.
We know we’re making progress when we finally stop feeling sorry for our self. We’re ready for the next school in parenthood when our life becomes less about us and more about them. Our perspective shifts. We realize being a child isn’t easy either. Hey, it’s not easy being three. Try climbing up on a commode that is twice as big as you are. When we begin to look at our children the way an educated art patron in a museum looks at Michelangelo’s David or the Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa, we will see them as the masterpieces they really are.
Taking care of those who can’t take care of themselves is a mission – a calling and worthy our best effort. If we work very hard and give our all to our parenting career, our children might turn out well and they might not. We are an important part of our child’s life, but we can’t realistically take all the credit or blame for the adult our child becomes. We only have to take the blame and credit for how we turn out.
No matter how many battles we fight on the home front, our name will not appear on a monument. We will work our whole life for something we never see finished. But if we make the necessary sacrifices, parenthood will be a personal cure for self-centeredness and an anecdote for false pride. The primary relationship we have in this life is with our self. There is nothing like parenthood to make us face our self and seek divine help. Then when we lay our head on our pillow at night, we may not see the dream of CEO printed on our office door or visions of mansions and luxury cars. We will see the radiant faces of our children and hear the echo of their laughter.
(taken from "For Every Mother" by Janene Baadsgaard)

"Look Mom! It's Jesus!"

Once I was holding my young daughter’s hand while we passed an ill-kept homeless man on the street. He had a long beard, dirty clothes, and smelled of body odor, liquor and tobacco. I lowered my eyes and kept my distance, hoping he wouldn’t ask me for a handout. My young daughter, on the other hand, stopped then suddenly dropped my hand and ran over to the man.
She stood perfectly still - starring up at him  in wide-eye awe.
Then she said, “Look Mom! It’s Jesus!”

The homeless man gently tilted his head in acknowledgement and smiled back at my little girl. Then he glanced up at me with a glimmer in his eyes. We were both humbled at the reverent way my daughter had seen him.

Each of us has great value and worth. When we learn to see each other and ourselves through the loving eyes of a child we will rediscover the infinite beauty of each son and daughter of God. 

The Robot Who Needed a Personality

The Robot Who Needed A Personality

by

Grandma  Baadsgaard

Happy Birthday Sammy.

I hope you know how much I love yo

Keep dreaming and building

and your wishes will come true.

             Sam gathered up a pile of gears, wires and pieces of scrap metal in his garage. Then he found some batteries. Next he carefully placed all his supplies into a shoe box. He walked into the kitchen where his mother was making soap on the stove with her safety goggles.  

“Do not bother me,” Sam said to his noisy family. “I am going to make a robot and I need my brain to focus. So don’t bother me until I come out of my bedroom. Scientists need to concentrate without distractions.”

Sam’s mother, still stirring the lye mixture, nodded. She understood. But his younger brothers Logan and Liam scratched their heads. They did not know about the vital importance of absolute quiet in a scientist’s laboratory of wonders.

Sam walked into his bedroom then closed and locked the door. First he tried putting his gears and levers together one way, then another. Then he tried hooking up the wires and batteries one way then another.

It wasn’t working.

“AAAHHHHH!” Sam yelled in frustration. “Why can’t I get this robot to work? What am I doing wrong?”

That is when Sam heard someone quietly knocking on his bedroom door. When he opened the door he saw his sister Sophia holding her old doll.

“Yes?” Sam asked. “I thought I told everybody to leave me alone so I can concentrate.”

“I think that you are frustrated,” Sophia answered. “Maybe your robot needs a little personality.”

She handed Sam two popped off buttons for the eyes, a felt smile and two floppy ears from the doll Sam had destroyed when he was in his rocket scientist stage.

“My robot doesn’t need these,” Sam said. “My robot is not a doll.”

“I know that,” Sophie said. “But you never know. Sometimes I think when I go to sleep all my dolls come alive and play around in my room. Maybe it works the same way with robots.”

Sammy rolled his eyes, thanked his sister and closed the door.

“AAHHH!” kept coming from Sam’s room.

Sam worked hard all afternoon until it was supper time. Then his mother knocked on the door.

“Sam, come to supper,” Sam’s mother said through the door. “You’ve been working long enough and you need a break.”

Sam opened the door and followed his mother into the kitchen shaking his head. He saw her home-made soap lined up on the counter.

“It just won’t work,” Sam said. “I’ve tried everything and it just won’t work.”

“Well, why don’t you sleep on it and try again tomorrow,” Sam’s mother said.

Sam nodded. Then he ate supper and went outside to play. When it was time for bed, he put on his pajamas, brushed his teeth and climbed into bed. He saw his lifeless robot standing in the corner of his room. He was almost going to put a face on him from his sister’s doll but he thought twice and decided not to. Then he fell asleep.

When Sam woke up in the morning he saw his robot in the corner of the room with two button eyes, a felt smile and two floppy ears looking back at him. Sam rubbed his eyes and looked again.

Then he scrunched his eyebrows and said, “Where did you get that face?”

Then he rubbed his eyes again and walked over to his sister’s room where he found Sophia playing with her dolls in her three doll houses.

“Sophia, did you put your doll face on my robot after I went to sleep?”

“No,” she answered. “I went to bed before you did remember.”

Sam walked back into his room and picked up his robot. Then he turned the switch and set the smiling robot on the floor. The robot walked across the room, bumped into the wall, turned around and walked back toward him before it stopped.

“Mom!” Sammy yelled, “My robot works.”

Sam’s mother and father, his sister and two brothers ran into his room and watched while Sam wound it up again.

“See, I told you so,” Sophia said. “Even robots need personality.”

Sammy lowered his eyebrows and began thinking of way to stay up all night so he could see what really happens in his bedroom when he falls asleep at night.

“Maybe you’re right,” Sammy answered.

Sammy’s father and two brothers scratched their heads. But Sammy’s mother and sister winked at Sammy because now he knew the secret.

Magic is everywhere, if you just believe.

Pin It

STATES OF GRACE

 I once watched a professional stoneware artist working at the wheel, throwing pots. I asked him questions about the formation of the outer walls and how he made the varied shapes he was forming. He told me he only pays attention to the center and the outside walls take care of themselves.
Too often our attention is directed to our outer walls, or the way we appear to others. We find ourselves worthy only if we match up well against everybody else. We compare and compete then find ourselves lacking, never convinced we’re good enough. If we pay attention to our own personal journey, how we compare to others won’t matter any more. We don’t have to be perfect. We don’t have to be the best. We don’t have to compete with others. We have only to be better than we were yesterday.
I remember a day when the parents of the students in my daughter’s ballet class were invited to attend a performance demonstration to see the progress of the dance students. There were obvious differences in the levels of ballet technique and performance competency as the girls followed the teacher’s commands and performed a choreographed dance for us.
My daughter had struggled with shyness for years, along with learning to cope with legs that were several inches different in length. Taking ballet was her idea. She’d found the courage to take classes as a beginner with other girls who had been taking ballet for ten or more years.
Watching her dance that day was amazingly beautiful to me. It didn’t matter how she compared to the other girls. Even her teacher could not possibly know what she had overcome to get to this personal level of grace. Someone attending that class as an observer could not possibly make a judgment that was accurate about her competency or accomplishments. Then I realized only a parent who truly knows and loves their child can accurately assess their progress. So it is with God; only our loving heavenly parents can accurately assess our progress.
As I watched my daughter turn a pirouette that day, my heart caught the very instant she stopped, stood still and smiled at me. Time stopped and she was the only ballerina on the dance floor. That shining moment of grace still dances in my heart to remind me that we all have a parent in heaven watching us with great love like I watched my daughter that day.
The time between our entrance and exit on the stage of life is fleeting and precious. Those around us are dancing as fast as they can but generally no one notices. We all need an audience who knows how hard we’re trying and how far we’ve come. Instead of looking out there for applause we need to look up there. The master potter is at work and is lovingly placing the soft clay of our souls into the hot kiln of life so we can each emerge the unique shining vessels we can become.

IF YOU'RE FEELING ALONE OR DISCOURAGED

 There are times in all our lives when we feel alone and discouraged. There are days when we question whether anyone understands or cares – when we can’t remember the melody or find the will to sing it.... At times like these I believe it helps to join in the strength of those around us.
I play second violin in an orchestra. The other members of the group who play in that section sit in front, behind and on both sides of me. When I lose my place in the music I listen carefully to the musician next to me while I scan the notes on the page to locate where we are in the score. Before long I can jump back in and start playing again. The player next to me can’t stop playing to instruct me without losing their place. So when they can tell I’m lost, they will whisper the number of the measure we’re on.
We can’t always solve the problems of others but we can listen carefully so we are aware when someone around us has lost their place. We can learn to be more in tune with the needs of those around us and we never know what positive influence we have. For example, one day after I’d given a talk at BYU Education week, a woman approached me and said, “You don’t know me but when I was a teenager I read something you wrote that helped me more than you’ll ever know. I was going through some awful things and had decided to end it all. Then I read the article you wrote in the New Era called ‘Holding On’. So I did. Those words literally saved my life.”
Though we are often unaware, those around us are starved for attention and compassion. We can’t always stop our life and rush to save them; but we can in effect whisper the number of the measure we’re on by offering a kind smile or a gentle word of appreciation, affection or encouragement. Before long, they will be able to find their place in the music and start playing again. A symphony simply does not have the same power without every instrument playing their part.
When our orchestra is playing disjointed and out of tune during rehearsals, our conductor will make us stop, memorize a few bars and then ask us to close our eyes and play the music without looking. He will further instruct us to listen to those next to us and also across the orchestra so we can hear how our part fits into the whole. It is amazing how much better we all sound when we do that. When we are focused only on our part and our eyes are glued to the sheet of music in front of us we are too concerned with self – unable to play the notes together as beautifully as we could.
If we want to get in tune with those around us we have to occasionally get our minds off ourselves long enough to truly listen. Then we will notice subtle expressions of need and hear the silent cries of those across the way. When all of us listen this way, we can play the score of life with infinitely more harmony and grace.
So, at those times when we feel abandoned, we need to glace around us. We are not alone; we are surrounded by caring people. When we are lost, they will help us find our place in the score and when they are lost we will help them. If we listen carefully with our hearts and glance up to the master maestro, the melody is never far away. There is love all around and inside us. All we have to do is listen.

Woman Oh Pause

Granny B . . . what is on your mind today?

"Well, for one thing it has always bothered me that menopause isn’t called womanopause. I mean who’s doing the pausing here? I’ve heard about all the hot flashes, night sweats and mood changes that accompany the loss of fertility. Why doesn’t anybody talk about the pause part? I think pause should mean – pause - stop and ponder.
Growing older is not what I expected. I mean I used to think old people were old people. We’re not. Older people are just regular people in old bodies. We stay pretty much the same inside as the years go by but the body goes south. Life is so much shorter than I thought it would be. I think we’re more likely to learn something along the way if we take the time to contemplate what our experiences have taught us.
Once I was sitting next to Emily Watts at a Deseret Book Time Out for Women. We were both on the program and waiting to speak to a large gathering of women.
“They’ve got me billed as the one who’s giving the mother talk,” I said turning to her. "I’m not comfortable appearing to be some kind of expert. I mean, what to I know? I don’t feel like I really know anything about being a mom.”
“Yes you do,” she answered. “Think about it.”
And so I did.
Thinking about it is the part I’m interested in. By the time we hit our fifties, most of us are inching up on the tail end of the crowded years. For the first half of our life we hurried around like Martha taking care of all the needs in our family and the universe. Now it is time to be more like Mary and choose more carefully the better part. Raising a family is a lot of hard work interspersed with moments of indescribable joy. If we don’t take the time to share our dear and not so dear motherhood experiences, the younger moms coming up through the ranks will think they are alone. When new moms lock arms with old moms we are a formidable force for good and much cheaper than therapy.
We spend the first half of our lives acquiring and accumulating. We spend the last half unloading and thinning out. We come to understand less is more. We spend the first half of our lives wishing everybody would leave us alone so we can get something important done. We spend the last half of our lives trying to get those same people to come back because we realize they are the important part.
Menopause ushers us from a fertile time for our bodies into a fertile time for our minds. We are given our bodies back, though a little wider and sporting a C-section scar or two. Now we’re asked to see what we will do with a seasoned heart. That’s why we’re called grand mothers. We don’t have to give birth any more or be the disciplinarians – just the lovers. That’s what makes grand parenting so grand.
Motherhood follows the same cycle of life as in nature with spring time, summer, autumn and winter – each following the other in an eternal round. Whether we’re starting out or ending up, we all have something valuable to offer each other. We start out feeling like we’re giving up something more important to raise children and end up realizing raising children is the important part. We start out thinking we’re sacrificing our personal development and end up realizing the process of learning to love someone is the ultimate road to personal development. We quite literally find our self when we lose our self. In the end we come to know that everything that matters most is sitting around our kitchen table. And that’s something to pause and think about."

Thank you Granny B. We'll be back to visit with you soon.
 Pin It

Poem For A Two-Year-Old

Happy Birthday Tessa.
I love you!

Here is a poem I wrote just for you

on your 2nd birthday

Tessa is Two

By

Granny B

 Tessa is two
So you better know who
Can call her granny
While she sits on her fanny
And hugs her new bunny
And makes the world sunny

 Tessa is Two
So you better Know who
Can fly in the air
When daddy is there
And sing lovely songs
Where the birds hum along

 Tessa is two
So you better know who
Can eat loaves of bread
Bigger than her head
And make her spaghetti
Into face mask confetti

 Tessa is two
So you better know who
Gives the best hugs
And plays on the rug
And pats your back
So your love tank won’t lack

 Tessa is two
So you better know who
Knows how to moo
And then how to coo
Whenever she’s sad
She doesn’t get mad

 Tessa is two
So you better know who
Can draw in her brow
And give you a bow
Then it’s time for a smile
Her giggle stretches for miles

 Tessa is two
So you better know who
Sleeps in her bed
While angels stoke her downy head
And her both her parents whisper
“When she grows up we sure will miss her”

 Tessa is two
So you better know who
Smiles in her sleep
But doesn’t make a peep
For she knows love is deep
And all hers to keep

 

Pin It

Learning the Fine Art of Muddling

The dishwasher had malfunctioned, flooding our house all night as we slept. We didn’t know until one of our sleepy-eyed children came into our bedroom early in the morning and said, “Mom and Dad! It’s raining in the basement!”
The room tha...t was hardest hit was the storage room where we’d recently carefully stacked and dated our pride and joy, a two-year supply of food. In a mad dash to save anything we could, every member of our family hauled each bucket and box out into the back yard to dry out. It took hours.

Just when we finished, we heard a clap of thunder, looked up, and felt several drops splash in our eyes. Then the heavens were opened and the few drops immediately became a downpour. We regrouped and quickly hauled our soggy mess into the garage.

When we finally got every box and bucket into the garage, my son came running to me in tears, informing me his pet rabbit was dead. After finally getting the children off to school, my daughter called from campus saying she couldn’t remember where she’d parked the car at BYU. Then my other first-grader had an accident that required a change of clothing. You get the picture.

“I can’t handle any more,” I said to my husband.

“You don’t have to handle it,” my husband replied. “There’s no rule book somewhere that says you have to go through life handling everything. Just muddle, Jan. I’ve been muddling for years and no one can tell the difference.”

Muddle, I thought. I think I can muddle.

Now every time I’m feeling overwhelmed, I remember my husband’s timely advice. Frankly, I’ve been muddling ever since and so far no one can tell the difference, just like he promised.

Muddling is not mediocrity. Muddling is a relaxed state of mind that allows us to stop trying to "handle" everything that life sends our way. Muddling is knowing that the only thing we are in charge of is how we respond to what life hands us. Muddling stops the self-battering that tells us we’ll never measure up or be good enough. Muddling is accepting our humanness and inadequacies. Muddling is knowing that we all have good days and not so good days. And muddling is never giving up hope that things will work out.Pin It