Mitchell and the Mummy's Curse

Mitchell and the Mummy’s Curse
by
Grandma Baadsgaard
Happy birthday Mitchell.
I hope you have great 7^th birthday.
Always remember that I love you very much.

 When Mitchell turned the corner to his street as he walked home from school, he saw his family’s cat Ella sitting next to their front door. But Ella didn’t run toward Mitchell and rub against his legs as usual. In fact, Ella didn’t move at all. She was still as stone.

Mitchell was puzzled. Ella was never still unless she was sleeping. Mitchell approached his front door cautiously. When he was standing right next to his cat, he yelled, “Boo!”
But Ella didn’t move. Mitchell reached down to pet her but when he touched her, she really had turned to stone. Looking carefully, he noticed that Ella had the head of a cat and the body of a woman.
Mom!” Mitchell yelled as he charged through the front door. “Ella has turned into the goddess Bastet. I read all about her in the book about Egypt I got at the library. Quick, come see.” But by the time Mitchell’s mother made it to the front door and looked out, Ella was gone. “I swear I saw her and she looked just like the goddess Bastet,” Mitchell said. “What do you think has happened. “Egyptians used to put a statue of the goddess Bastet next to their front door to protect them. Do you think Ella knows something we don’t?”
“Now Mitchell,” his mother said. “Don’t let your imagination run wild. Maybe you should just do a little detective work like the archaeologists do.”
“Good idea Mom,” Mitchell said.
So Mitchell put on his treasure hunting pants, shirt and hat then took out his magnifying glass and pulled out his favorite shovel. Then he headed outside to his back yard.
“Just don’t get the mummy’s curse,” his mother said with a smile and a wink. Don’t let a mosquito bite you on your cheek.”
Mitchell shook his head. He knew King Tut was not that much older than he was when he became Pharaoh. Mitchell knew a lot about ancient cultures because he often went to the library and brought home stacks of books about ancient civilizations. So Mitchell knew King Tut's tomb was overlooked for thousands of years. He also knew that when a British archaeologist named Howard Carter entered King Tut's tomb, it was almost like entering a time machine. Carter and his team found lots of treasures including a solid gold mask of King Tut's face.
Mitchell knew that many objects found in tombs were ordinary things like tools, pots, chests, baskets, and amulets which the Egyptians used every day. Others were specially made for the occasion like coffins, masks, models or scrolls with spells designed to help the dead person to survive in the afterworld. Mitchell even knew that King Tut was protected by three coffins. The outer sarcophagus had a relief of king Osiris carved into it, the one in the middle was made of wood and decorated with gold and semi-precious stones and the inner coffin was made of solid gold. His burial mask was beautifully crafted, painted and expensively gilded.

Mitchell also knew that nearly all ancient Egyptian homes had a cat. But cats were not pets. The ancient Egyptians believed that cats had magical powers. They believed cats protected their homes and children from danger. You were in big trouble if you hurt a cat in ancient Egypt. Your punishment could be death! Mitchell also knew that Bastet the Goddess was depicted as having the body of a woman and the head of a domestic cat. She was the daughter of the sun god Ra, wife of Ptah, and mother of Mihos. The Egyptians celebrated Bastet's feast day with enthusiasm for she was the Egyptian Goddess of pleasure, music, dancing and joy. The people of ancient Egypt turned to Bastet for protection and for blessing.
Mitchell remembered reading and repeating aloud this ancient Egyptian prayer with his mother, “Beloved Bastet, mistress of happiness and bounty, twin of the Sun God, slay the evil that afflicts our minds as you slew the serpent Apep. With your graceful stealth anticipate the moves of all who perpetrate cruelties and stay their hands against the children of light. Grant us the joy of song and dance, and ever watch over us in the lonely places in which we must walk".
Sometimes Mitchell imagined he had ventured into Tutankhamen’s tomb brimming with priceless figurines, ritual jewelry, small boats and a shrine of the pharaoh’s embalmed organs. But Mitchell didn’t know what to think of the mummy’s curse. When the man who discovered King Tut’s artifacts stepped into the tomb, his financial backer was at his side. Four months later, his financial backer died of blood poisoning from an infected mosquito bite on his cheek. Newspapers at the time speculated that he was a victim of the “mummy’s curse” for after lifting the death mask, King Tut also had a lesion on the same cheek.
Right then, Mitchell heard a mosquito buzzing near his cheek and he freaked out.
“AHHHHHHHH!!!!!” he screamed running into the house.
“What’s the matter?” his mother asked.
“It’s the mummy curse,” Mitchell said. That mosquito almost bit me mom.
“Well I can take care of that,” his mother said with a sly smile. “Give me a copy of that ancient Egyptian prayer.”
“I totally gave that book back to the library last week,” Mitchell said. “It’s too late. I’m doomed.”
“Kneel,” his mother said as she turned to Mitchell looking strangely like the Egyptian goddess Bastet.
Mitchell knelt down just before his mother began, “Light of the universe, grant us courage in the face of mosquito bites,” Mitchell’s mother said with a wink and a smile. “And watch over us in the lonely places we must walk.”
Then she gave Mitchell a great big hug that lasted for a long time. Before long Mitchell felt warm and relaxed inside.
“Are you going to go back outside now,” Mitchell’s mother asked.
“No,” Mitchell answered. But I was thinking, do you think you could find me a little mosquito repellant?”
Right then Ella walked through the back door with a stone cold look in her eyes. As their cat walked stealthily toward them, Mitchell’s eyes grew bigger and bigger. Then Ella crawled into Mitchell’s lap . . . and purred.
“Looks like no more mummy’s curse as long as I have Ella the protector around,” Mitchell said with a wink and a smile.
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It is Cold Out There!

One of my greatest disappointments is that I've lived in Utah all my life and I've never gotten used to being cold. My parents hail from Canada where, by their sworn testimony, they had to dig tunnels through the snow to the outhouse in the middle of wild, dark Canadian blizzards with their bare hands by the age of three. By all odds, I should have inherited a little Eskimo blood, but no such luck.
In the middle of one of the biggest storms of the century, there I sat shivering on a chair near my front room window wrapped in two afghans, drinking warm milk, when I noticed a strange sight on the deserted street in front of my home. Cars were abandoned in ditches right and left, but one lone car drove courageously forward in the darkness - two lone headlights on this treacherous bend of road.Suddenly this lone ranger car zipped into my driveway and out jumped my mom and dad in their shirt-sleeves, grinning from ear to ear, "We Canadians never let a little snow stop us."
The thing I hate worst about being outside in cold weather is being cold. The thing I hate next is watching animals without galoshes or earmuffs or anything standing there in the cold. I know, I know, I heard and you've heard that animals grow an extra thick layer of fur or hair or something to keep them warm during the winter. But how do we actually know that they're not cold. Have you ever asked a horse standing out in a snowy field, "Hey! You cold, fella?" Ever had one answer you?
So we don't actually know, after all, do we? I mean, horses and cows also live in places like California, too, and they get along just fine without ever experiencing a cold chill.
The other worry that always nags at me during this time of year is that somehow mankind will start running out of ways to heat our houses. I can see it now, the Eskimos and Canadians will start taking over. There will be a mass migration south for all winter wimps like myself. Whole northern cities will lie desolate just waiting for the strong silent Canadian Mountie Patrol to take up command posts.
I've noticed the farther north one travels, the less people pay any attention to the cold weather. It seems like people who have the most snow are the ones who are best at knowing what to do with it and in it.
Herein lies my problem. I firmly believe winter wimps should be allowed to go home from work and school, sit on their heat vents and drink hot chocolate at the first sign of a cold spell. We could stay warm at home, thinking wise thoughts and figuring out the great mysteries of life. If winter wimps were able to stay home without guilt during the cold winter months, maybe we wouldn't have so many boring office Christmas parties where you end up smiling so much your mouth hurts, and exchanging price stipulated gifts with total strangers.
The Canadians and Eskimos could have all the parties and get-togethers they want, but the rest of us could stay home and stay warm.Pin It

The Magic, Mystery, and Wonder of Christmas

If, after all the hustle and bustle of holiday shopping, baking, sitting through long, stuffy programs, and attending an endless series of parties, you feel like you want to stop the holiday wagon and jump . . . do not give up. If you're paying attention, something will happen to make it all worthwhile.

One December evening after I finally finished my nightly wiping up of slop, heave-ho, and potato cement from under the dinner table, I slipped into the living room alone. All... the children were scattered around the house: some yelling, some hibernating, and others imitating sumo wrestlers. I pushed the hair away from my face with my dishpan hands and took a slow, deep breath before I sat down and began quietly playing Christmas hymns on the piano. The music must have slipped through the heat vents, for one by one the children spontaneously wandered into the living room. Except for a single brass light above the piano, the room was dark. The hard wooden piano bench soon grew warm as my 2-year-old snuggled up on my right side while her 10-year-old sister squeezed in on my left. Then the baby crawled across the carpet, elbowed her way through my legs, and started playing with my big toe as it bobbed up and down on the sustaining pedal. Seven-and 8-year-old sumo wrestlers untangled themselves and tumbled into the room long enough to belt out a few tunes while standing guard behind me.

You’ve never really heard “Joy to the World” until you’ve heard a 7-year-old, with total abandon and a little off key, command from the depths of his soul, “Joy to the world! The Lord is come! Let earth receive her king! Let every heart repair him room! And saints and angels swing!” Later, when our voices were tired and squeaky, we did “Silent Night,” complete with “Round John Virgin.” As we rounded the corner to “Sleep in heavenly peace; Sleep in heavenly peace,” it hit: that skin-tingling, hold-your-breath moment when the magic, mystery, and wonder of Christmas was mine.

At that precise moment, it didn’t matter that our budget was having a hard time stretching for a family of twelve. It didn’t matter that within seconds my “heavenly choir” would return to sumo wrestling on the living room floor. For I had learned that moments like these are fleeting. Like winter’s frost, with a breath, childhood melts away. So I sighed, detached the baby from my toe, and kissed all those Junior Tabernacle Choir members on the forehead before they could pull away, yelling, “Yuck, kissing. I hate kissing.” Christmas comes but once a year, with or without the mistletoe—you have to grab those kisses while you can.Pin It

Baptism LDS

BAPTISM DAY
My granddaughter Sophia Cope was baptized Saturday morning.
Snow fell and icy wind howled around corners leaving large drifts blocking our way to the church.
Then as we turned into the parking lot, I took a deep breath.
All around me, the world was dressed in white. An old man was shoveling the walk for us.


Then I saw Sophia, dressed in white - eyes shining - run toward me with outstretched arms.

After hugs and pictures we gathered in the chapel.

I watched as loving family members filed into the large bench filled room and patiently waited for the service to begin.

Sophia asked me to give a talk about the Holy Ghost - a gift to me - for I'd had a week to remember how the spirit comforts, directs, warms and enlightens.

As my son John placed his fingers and the piano keys and began to play, all those sitting in the chapel became reverent.
After songs, prayers and a talk, we gathered next to the baptismal font. Small children knelt close so they could see.
Sophia and her father, both stepped reverently into the warm waiting water.

"Having been commissioned by Jesus Christ I baptize you in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost."
Down into the water in a loving father's arms, then rising clean, pure and whole.

Later, a circle of priesthood holders placed their hands gently on her small head as the gift of the Holy Ghost was given.

I stand in awe at the majesty and simplicity of the gospel of Jesus Christ and the faith of an eight-year-old child.













Then back into the biting cold wind and snow covered world for our ride home.

Without remembrance of our heavenly home, we too are in a season of white and waiting.
Someday, with the faith and obedience of a child, we too will return to our loving heavenly home.
  

Jesus Christ's Love For Each Of Us

When all my children were small, I could never find baby Jesus in the nativity set during the holiday season. I usually located the tiny wooden babe in a manger tucked away under my daughter’s pillow or hidden under my son’s bed. I finally understood that each of my children wanted Jesus for themselves. So I purchased a nativity set for each child.

When I was a young mother my children often called out to me in the blackness of their bedroom for comfort and reassurance when they felt lonely and scared. As adults my children call me on the phone when life is hard and they feel sad or afraid. My deepest desire is that I find the words Jesus would say if he were with them.

For I know that each of us needs our own Jesus. Christ gives hope to a troubled world yet He also gives hope to each of us personally. No matter what has happened to us or what we have done, He offers redeeming love, healing and peace.

I went to a choral and orchestra concert at the concert hall in SLC a few days ago. When one choir sang, "Christ the babe was born for you," I felt the meaning of those words sink deep into my soul. For I also need my own Jesus.

I was so profoundly moved by Christ's love for me that I wept openly in that crowded public hall. That was the moment, my moment, when I felt my Savior's love just for me.

And that is my greatest wish for you this season - that one quiet moment when you least expect it, you will feel down deep to the core of your soul - the love of your Savior . . . . just for you.Pin It

Aaronic Priesthood LDS

December 4, 2013

Dear Mathew,

Happy Birthday Matthew. You’re turning twelve today. This is an important birthday because you will receive the Aaronic priesthood. The priesthood is the power of God, which is given to man to act in His name. Always remember that your authority comes through your ordination but your power comes through personal obedience and worthiness. The priesthood is a gift from God that blesses all His children. Your Heavenly Father now trusts you enough to give you the responsibility to help others. Up until now your parents, extended family and church leaders have been taking care of you and helping you grow and learn. Now it is your turn. For example, this Sunday you will pass the sacrament for the first time. Isn’t it wonderful that God allows you to be part of this most sacred event?

What a great blessing it is to hold the priesthood. I hope you take time and go to a quiet private place and pray to your Heavenly Father and ask him how you can magnify your priesthood. Praying and asking questions has been a great way for God to send messages to us. In fact, did you know that when the Prophet Joseph Smith was translating The Book of Mormon he found a part that mentioned baptism? On May 15, 1829, he and his scribe Oliver Cowdery went into the woods to ask God about baptism. As they prayed, a messenger from heaven descended in a cloud of light. This messenger was John the Baptist, the prophet who baptized Jesus Christ. John the Baptist, now a resurrected being, laid his hands on Joseph and Oliver and conferred upon each of them the Aaronic Priesthood, which had been taken from the earth during the Apostasy. With this authority, they were able to baptize one another. John the Baptist was chosen by Heavenly Father to prepare the way for the Savior and be the one to baptize him. John did this through the authority of the Priesthood of Aaron.

After baptism, a sacred experience and opportunity comes to the members of the Church each week as we partake of the sacrament. This is how we renew our covenants with our Father in Heaven and take upon us the name of his Son and promise to keep his commandments. Those holding the Aaronic Priesthood have the sacred privilege and honor of preparing, blessing, and passing these holy emblems of Jesus Christ’s body and blood. God wants us to repent, come to Him with a broken heart and a contrite spirit and partake of the sacrament. When we renew our baptismal covenants in this way, the Lord renews the cleansing effect of our baptism, we are made clean and can have His Spirit to be with us. That is why it is so important to take the sacrament each week.

As you know, the offices of the Aaronic Priesthood are bishop, priest, teacher, and deacon. With the authorization of the presiding priesthood leader, deacons pass the sacrament. They also help the bishop watch over Church members by giving service and assist with temporal matters such as gathering fast offerings for the poor. Teachers perform all the duties of deacons and also receive other opportunities to serve. They prepare the sacramental bread and water and serve as home teachers. Priests may perform all the duties of deacons and teachers. With the authorization of the presiding priesthood leader, they may also bless the sacrament, baptize, and ordain others to the offices of priest, teacher, and deacon.

I have noticed that you have a big heart Mathew and that you love deeply. You are a true and loyal friend. Remember that the best friend you will ever have is Jesus Christ. You have amazing talents and abilities and I know that you will use them wisely. As you serve in your priesthood responsibilities I hope you remember that serving your own family is also important. The most important exercise of the priesthood takes place in the family. Your parents and brothers really need you to love them and serve them as only you can.

You stand at the beginning a life-time of service. As you serve in the Aaronic Priesthood, it will prepare you to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood, receive the blessings of the temple, serve a full-time mission, be a loving husband and father, and continue in lifelong service to the Lord. I love you so much Mathew. I have so enjoyed watching you grow up and become such a wonderful young man. I will love you forever and be your biggest fan.   

Grandma Baadsgaard

 

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My new grandsons Griffen and Daniel

This Thanksgiving season I am most grateful for my newest grandsons Griffen and Daniel.

There is no greater miracle than the birth of a new child.

 

 

 

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Nobody can do for little children

what grandparents do.
Grandparents sort of sprinkle stardust

over the lives of little children
~Alex Haley