We love our Spanish Fork Missionaries

The awesome missionaries in the Spanish Fork Central Zone have a desire to be disciples of Jesus Christ. They inspire us. We love serving with them.

Diane Wolsey leaves a legacy of love

My amazing sister Diane Wolsey passed away on Mar16th. 

I love her with all my heart and will miss her every day. 

Funeral Tribute for Diane Wolsey by Janene Baadsgaard

      Sibling relationships last the longest in this life; longer than our relationship with our parents, longer than our relationship with our spouse, and longer than our relationship with our children. A beloved brother or sister is surely one of life’s greatest treasures. I was given the tremendous gift of being Diane’s sissister.

     Even as a child, Diane had a flair for living that transformed ordinary life into something more fun. We stitched lilac leaves together with long pine needles to make fairy purses. Upside down holly hocks became fine ladies at the ball. Paper dolls were cut up the middle so they could run. Old sheets and tires became Zorro costumes. We flew on a rope swing tied to the weeping willow tree, made dandelion crowns and ate Cheez-its. We danced in our new petticoats on the front lawn, bought penny candy and were baptized in the small white church. There were fuzzy baby lambs drinking from bottles, laps full of purring kittens and watching the Rifleman on TV. We danced in a circle around the May pole in our Easter dresses and told toe-jam stories in the dark before drifting off to sleep. We pulled taffy with Mrs. Greer, waded in irrigation ditches and hunted dragonflies in the lilacs. We climbed apple trees and transformed cardboard boxes into props for neighborhood plays. We rolled down hills at the Coral Pink Sand dunes, played golf in the dirt with a baseball bat, saw the ocean for the first time and fed deer out of our hands. 

     In our teen years, Diane always had a keen sense for how to dress well and do her makeup and hair. I was her first and only beauty make-over failure. I told her sun-bathing was just a fancy name for laying around and sweating. I didn’t want my nails done because then I couldn’t dig in the dirt. Spraying and teasing my hair just made me worry too much when the wind blew. Diane was my cool big sister. I watched proudly as she acted in the high school musical and cheered at football games. We shared bedrooms, clothes, and boyfriend drama. She included me with the neighborhood teenagers as they played hide-and-seek under the street lights, and never treated me as her annoying little sister. I always knew she loved me and was looking out for me.

     When Diane married, a piece of sunshine left our home with her; but she always made sure to stay involved with her seven sister’s lives. When Diane brought her first baby Mijken home from the hospital, I slept over so I could help her. During that week in Diane’s tiny Orem apartment, we sang Mijken our favorite lullabies, breathed in her newborn skin, and rocked her tiny flannel wrapped body to sleep. Though Mijken lived only 16 days, that time the three of us shared is sacred to me. In that tender, fragile space we all felt wrapped in Divine love. Holding and caring for Mijken gave me a deep longing to have children of my own. 

     Diane absolutely loved being a sister, mother, aunt and a grandmother. Those weren't just roles she held; they were at the center of who she was. She loved her family with her whole heart and soul and spent her life giving generously to everyone around her. She showed her love by creating grand celebrations, selecting the absolute perfect gift, taking you along on an adventure or offering encouraging comments when you needed it the most. 

     My personal relationship with Diane was shaped by a life-time of shared history- ordinary days, family gatherings and deep gut wrenching pain in times of great loss. Diane and I knew each other in ways only a sister can. We spent most of our conversations laughing. We knew each other’s stories, flaws and heartbreaks. We deeply loved each other. 

     When I think of Diane, I think of the light and warmth she brought into a room, the way she cared about people, and the way she made life feel lighter just by being herself. Those are the moments that created her life  and her legacy. We all feel Diane’s absence today, but we can choose to honor her by carrying forward what she gave us: her kindness, great wit, generosity and warmth.

We love you Diane. Thank you for loving us. 

     During her difficult time alone at the rehab center near the end of her life, we had many long conversations with each other. She spoke of the process she was going through to reconcile all the difficult events, decisions and relationships in her life so she could fully lay her burdens at the Savior’s feet and receive the healing balm of His atoning sacrifice. I was moved by her desire.

     I said, “Oh Diane, you are being sanctified.”

     She answered, “I am? What does sanctified mean?”

     It means you are being made holy,” I answered.

     And she was.

     When you are old, you finally understand all you really have that lasts, is your family and your faith. Diane loved her Heavenly Parents and Jesus Christ best of all. Because of that love and trust she was not afraid to die. She allowed the difficulties of her life to make her holy; she was ready. 

     Our sweet Diane, God be with you till we meet again.