Studio 5 Interview

Finding Time for Your Kids: Daily Rituals That Really Matter

Most parents are searching for ways to spend more time with their children. The secret isn’t always finding more time but making the time parents and children already have together really count. Here are several daily rituals parents might consider adding to their normal routine.

* Create Memorable Mealtimes
Families who commit to eating at least one meal together soon discover the benefits that come from creating a golden family hour each day. This hour is time set aside exclusively for the family. It helps to set aside a specific time every day and eliminate as many distractions as possible by turning off the television, computer and telephones. Community, school, career and church activities are numerous and will encroach on family time if not carefully selected.

A golden hour might include:
Preparing a meal together
Saying a prayer
Eating together
Reading a chapter from a good book/talking about the day’s activities/singing a song
Doing the dishes together
Helping with homework/going for a walk/throwing a baseball/playing a board game.

* Make Homecomings and Departures a “Touching” Event
Everyone likes to be noticed, appreciated and loved. It only takes a few seconds for parents to make every homecoming and departure a little more warm and fuzzy for their children. Don’t hold back. Be warm and affectionate when your child leaves or come back home.
Parents can:
Kiss
Hug
Make a positive comment – “I believe in you!” “Make it a good day.” “I’m so glad you’re home!” “I missed you today.”
Wave from the window
Blow kisses
Smile
Say “I love you.”

* Utilize Transport Time
Most parents and children spend part of their day in their car going and coming from a multitude of activities like school, lessons and activities. Parents can put this time to better use by recognizing car time as a great time for positive personal parent/child interaction.
Parents can:
Turn off cell phones/radio/stereo
Be truly present
Talk
Listen - Sometimes children open up best when they aren’t looking straight at you
Create fun car games and a family goodbye honk
Invite one child at a time to accompany you on routine errands

* Establish Pleasurable Bed Time Routines
Bedtime routines can be painful and stressful if rushed or forced. It only takes a few extra minutes to have positive personal time with each child each night.
Parents can:
Stager bedtimes for each child so they have individual time and avoid interruptions
Read books
Tell original adventure tales starring the child
Take a few minutes to carefully tuck the child in bed
Ask: “What was one good thing that happened today?”
“What was one thing that was not so good?”
Sing a lullaby
Pray
Stroke the child’s forehead
Say I love you
Rub noses/kiss/hug

Children who have been loved know how to love. Daily loving rituals don’t take more time or money; they only require that parents re-order their lives so that they have unhurried time for the people who matter most.

Harvest Rewards

Like many of you, I've been harvesting an abundance of fruit and vegetables from my garden the past few months. While I dig my fingers in the rich brown earth to find deep orange carrots or firm red potatoes I think about the growing season and pause.

I used to think a "harvest" was the reward or what I would receive after all my hard work. Yet, life has taught me that the harvest is hard work too. Even an abundance has to be gathered in, washed, prepared or preserved. The work never ends. And that is the way I like it.

Maybe we're not suppose to anticipate or wait for an easy time. Maybe the reward is the ability to perform meaningful work. Perhaps planning, planting, nurturing and harvesting is an eternal circle not a vertical list. We're never done. Meaningful work creates the reward and is the the reward.

Acres of Roses

Once upon a time a bright and beautiful princess named Sandra was born to King Jordan and Queen Karen. She was an exceptionally imaginative child. Though her parents were unaware, Princess Sandra was born with the gift of music. She also had discerning eyes. When adults saw pestering insects and bugs, Sandra saw elves and fairies.
Every evening the king and queen would take little Sandy for a ride in a carriage in their manicured garden. When dragonflies flew past the carriage, the tiny princess watched with delight as a delicate creature with purple wings and a shimmering green body landed gently on her palm. Sandy smiled as the fairy preened in the sun and she laughed when the lovely winged creature flew away. The king and queen did not know the dragonfly was actually a fairy and shooed the horrible bug away.
Each day Princess Sandra grew and grew until one day she was old enough to go out into the garden alone. She spent many pleasant hours singing in the garden - playing with her fairy friends. She listened to the doves cooing in the trees and heard the buzz of insects in the grass. She dipped her toes in the pool of water and felt the sun warm her shoulders.
One day a black mole came to the garden and started chewing the roots to all the roses. One by one the rose bushes died for their roots had been eaten away. Princess Sandra was sad and frightened because her garden was slowly dying. She didn’t feel like singing any more.
She summoned her friends the fairies and asked for their help.
“I don’t know what to do,” Princess Sandra said. “The moles are eating the roots to all my roses. My garden is dying and I don’t know how to stop them.”
“Moles hate happy children,” the fairies said. “They try to destroy everything you have to sing about . . . but keep singing any way. Moles only have power when children stop singing. Singing sounds like horrible screeching to moles. Keep singing Princess Sandra. Your music will force the moles to leave.”
So each day after that Princess Sandra walked through her garden and sang a new and happy song. The moles had to pack their bags and leave because the princess would not stop singing.

Then Princess Sandra planted new roses – acres and acres of roses.


Happy Birthday Sandy. Your Grandma B. loves you very much!

Green Tomato Secrets

One year the tomatoes in our garden weren’t turning red. Someone told me to stomp on the vines because stressing the plant would cause the tomatoes to ripen. I tried it. To my surprise – this odd remedy worked. I’ve learned it works the same way with people; we need problems to help us mature. We can learn a lot from green tomatoes.
I live in a place where a killing frost often comes early in the growing season. If I don’t read the weather report, I may go to sleep with a thriving healthy garden one night and wake up to a frozen wasteland the next morning. So, I’ve learned to be watchful so I can gather in my harvest sooner rather than later if necessary. Most fruits and vegetables must ripen on the vine or tree but some can be harvested green and still mature if given enough time. That is why I prize tomatoes. When an early frost forecast forces me to pick my tomatoes while they are still green, I know they will ripen later on their own. Tomatoes are resilient and adaptable; they turn red and delicious on the garden vine or in a box in the garage. I want to be like that - able to nourish others even when things aren’t going as expected for me. I know a couple of people who understand this “green tomato” secret to happiness. Let me tell you about them.
One of my friends has faced more serious health problems than any one I know - yet she seldom complains. One day I asked her why.
“Everyone has something hard they’re dealing with,” she said. “Having problems is not unique. Why should I dwell on mine? And besides I want friends. I won’t have any friends if I’m always complaining.”
Another man I know has also learned this remedy to self pity. He realizes there is no easy time of life for any one.
“I take my troubles to God and my love to everyone else,” he said.
All of us have good days and bad days. Each of us has our share of challenges. Though we can’t control the daily weather, we can control whether we choose to uplift others or feel sorry for our self.
“Oh, to be your age again,” my elderly neighbor said when I was in my thirties.
At first her comment confused me. I’d recently been thinking about how easy her life was. I knew from personal experience that being my age was often difficult. I figured my neighbor had forgotten about all the problems I faced each day raising a large family. Old age seemed like a breeze from where I stood. Then I realized I had no idea what heartbreak or difficulties she was dealing with. I decided it was time for me to pause from self interest and truly love and care about my neighbor, to find ways to ease her loneliness, health issues or the ache of unfulfilled dreams.
Each season of life has difficulties and delights. Though there are times when a killing frost comes before we’re ready, green tomatoes remind us that we always have a choice. We can choose to ripen and mature whether we’re in a box in the garage or sunning ourselves under blue skies on the vine. We can choose to nourish others or feel sorry for our self. That is the choice that determines our ultimate destiny.

The Best Memories are Home-made

Sometimes we get the idea that family vacations have to include lots of money, travel or exotic places. I don’t think so. Let me tell you about my very favorite vacation this year. We had a family camp-out in our back yard.
Our family camp-out included tin-foil dinners made with vegetables from our own garden. The grandchildren picked apples and plums off our fruit trees. We had a camp –fire in the pines from trees we planted years ago when they were just two-inch starts. Our back acre was the perfect place for wagon rides. A trip to the Pioneer Cemetery gave us a chance to tell stories about our ancestors. We roasted marshmallows over the fire and had skits to keep up laughing. There was good conversation, good food and good fun. A club house, tent and a pop-up trailer bedded us down for the night. Under the stars you could hear grandparents, children and grandchildren whispering in the dark along with a chorus of crickets.
We don’t have to look far and wide for joy and fulfillment. The best memories are home-made . . . and a family who loves each other is heaven on earth.

Nursery Heroes

The other Sunday I watched a young father in our church group walk to the front of the chapel to bear his testimony. He was a bright smiling kind of a guy. During one part of his testimony he told the congregation he had accepted an assignment recently to be a nursery leader with his wife.
“I feel bad, like I don’t really do much to help my wife and the other lady in there,” he said. “They teach the kids lessons and sing songs and stuff like that. Mostly I just watch them doing everything.”
Boy did this guy have it wrong! You see I substituted in the nursery just two weeks before and I absolutely knew this young man was my personal nursery hero. Why?
Well to start with, everyone who has ever worked in the nursery with a large group of two-year-olds every Sunday knows there is always one particular child who is the designated . . . how do you put this nicely . . . bully. Sometimes the bully is a girl but usually it is a boy.
This is the child who waits to see what toy another child chooses to play with then dashes over and yanks it away or hits them over the head. This is also the child who finds the most frightened fellow nursery-mate then storms up to them and shoves them into the wall or metal chair. This is the child who eats everything he is not suppose to eat like play dough and boogers, drinks what he is not suppose to drink like bubble soap and glue and throws what he is not suppose to throw like red punch all over the carpet. He also likes to yell and scream a lot.
Well, I watched this young man with the apologetic testimony single-handedly save us all from the bully. In magnificent single bounds, he was able to intercept the bully before he struck again and again. I watched this young man swoop over large objects and scoop this child up in his arms many times over right before the little rascal did another unkindly deed. Not only that but I watched this male nursery worker magically distract the curly haired little bully into thinking he was playing a game with him or tossing balls. Nobody cried. Nobody got murdered. I witnessed no blood, melt-downs or screaming fits.
Why? This young man knew this child wasn’t a bully at all – he was just an average normal active bright little two-year-old boy who was still learning the social rules of his clan. He needed another male to see his awesomeness and keep him busy with boy stuff.

Nursery workers don’t think they are important. They are. These patient people give very young children their first impressions of what is feels like to be at church outside their parent’s arms. When these little tots open that door and wave good-bye to their parents for the first time, who will they find? Hopefully they find someone who responds to them just like this young man. For every nursery needs a hero . . . someone who relates to and appreciates the individual personality of each child and also super-humanly keeps them from killing each other for one more blessed Sabbath day.

Boy Scout Adventures

I've been imagining lately . . . what would happen to the scouting program if mothers were in charge? Why am I wondering about that? Well take the other night for example.
About 10:30 I was brushing my teeth in my pajamas.
Someone came into the bathroom behind me and said, "I just got the worst wound award at Scouts tonight."
Not exactly what you want to hear right before you crawl in bed. I took one look at my son's deep leg wound along with cuts and scratches all over his legs and arms and knew I had to get him medical help. My husband was still gone doing church stuff and my teenage daughter had all her friends over playing night games - running all over the yard and in and out of our bathroom. Just as John and I were getting in the van, Ross pulled up and came along for the ride.

John had to get fifteen stitches but that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was getting twenty-seven little shots to deaden the area all around the wound so they could do the stitches. We finally left the emergency room rubbing our eyes way after midnight.

It took a while to get the whole story out of my son but it went something like this . . . John went end over end on his bike on a mountain trail and crashed into a tree. His scout leaders didn't think it was anything to worry about and told him to get back on the bike and go faster. So he did and biffed it again. Then after fifteen miles of more of the same they all sat around the camp fire and roasted hot-dogs and marsh-mellows for another hour.

Finally they dropped John off at my house covered in dirt and blood then sped off.

Now . . . if mothers were in charge . . .

Follow the Leader

Most of us pay attention to what we see, hear, taste, smell and touch. There is another sense most adults have forgotten . . . our sense of wonder. We notice the form of an object we’re looking at but neglect to observe the shapes, colors and shadows around the form that create the space the form makes. We hear the notes of music being played but neglect to listen for the spaces between the notes – the lingering resonance or the silences that makes the melody unique.

Children, on the other hand, live in the spaces between the notes. They do not experience the world the way we do. They see the world upside down and inside out. They feel things with their soul not just their fingers. Every sight, sound, touch and smell awakens a new dance with their senses. They display a sense of amazement and delight at common experiences like taking a bath, licking a peppermint sucker, stroking a kitten, or skipping to school. They haven’t yet learned what deserves careful attention and what to ignore through repetition – so they pay careful heed to everything. They display a sense of curiosity at fingers and toes, doorbells and frost lace. They see the ant on the sidewalk, hear the rushing wind in the pines, smell the lilacs before they bloom and feel the tickle in their tummies.

Life for children is a musical dance. The world they crawl or run through is only anchored with a nebulous staff. The air they fly through arches past the lines and spaces. They listen closely to the intricacies of sound – the cadences and inflections of expression or the intonation, tone and pitch before they learn to express intelligible language. They mimic the phrasing of voice before they experiment with the specific sounds of words.
Even adults intrinsically sense a child’s internal music as we feel drawn to rock or sway our babies. Singing a lullaby is a universal response to calm a fussy child. Children return us to the music of living – the rhythm of time’s movement. When we hold our children with love we soon match each other’s breathing and heart rates forming a soothing duet of one.

Children have not yet learned the theory of major and minor chords or mastered the placement of sharps or flats. Yet they know the pure melody of love. They wrap their entire beings around our hearts and bring us back to wonder and awe. As they delight in rocks, sticks and mud in our back yard, they teach us to see again. As they notice details like earlobes and icicles, we re-experience the wonder of our own lives. As they rush to rescue wounded birds we learn to feel again with gentler hearts. As they are overcome with fear, we re-experience the majesty and awe of thunderstorms and lightening.

There is a pattern to living, a tempo, time and beat. Children hear their own cadence. If we want to keep pace we need to look ahead to where they are going and follow. Like the first, second and third movements of a symphony, we can return to where we began if we allow a child to lead us. In the stillness of the night we will hear the melody we once knew. If we listen with our hearts, a child’s song of innocence will take us back to where we began.

Spanish Fork Pioneer Cemetery: Complete List of Names of those who are buried there by Janene Baadsgaard

I have been contacted by many individuals since the re-dedication of The Spanish Fork Pioneer Cemetery asking me for a copy of the names of those buried in there. I am including a list here. The following are the names that appear on the new headstone at the cemetery.

The names with an * were buried here but later moved to another cemetery. The last names listed here with a parenthesis around them indicates that these individuals were slaves and the slave owner's name has been listed as the last name.  

The Pioneer Cemetery was used mostly in the 1850's and 1860's.  The current cemetery was opened in 1866 but I believe that both cemeteries were used simultaneously for a while to facilitate family members being buried together.  There is still some confusion about these early burials because no accurate or complete records were kept.   

To the best of our knowledge, these are the people we believe to be buried here. Please feel free to contact me with any additions, corrections or additional information.

James Andersen - born 1863 in Spanish Fork and died winter of 1863 in Spanish Fork, Utah.


Hulda Lovisa Asklund - born 8 January 1861 at St. Johannes, Norrkoping, Ostergotland, Sweden and died 22 February 1865 at Spanish Fork, Utah.


Ann Griffiths Babcock - born 27 April 1796 at Loughor, Glamorgan, Wales, and died 10 August 1862 at Spanish Fork.

Elizabeth Ann Banks - born 17 March 1860 in Spanish Fork, died as an infant 1 October 1860 in Spanish Fork, Utah.

Benjamin Kimball Barney - born 12 February 1850 at Council Bluffs, Pottawattamie, Iowa and he died 22 April 1866 at Spanish Fork, Utah.


Lewis Barney - born 21 April 1859 at Spanish Fork, died September 1860 at Spanish Fork, Utah. [Per the Genealogy of Barney Family in America (by Preston and Barney), 1990, pg. 348, Lewis Barney was the son of Lewis Barney and Elizabeth Beard, and he was born 21 Apr 1958 in Spanish Fork and he died in 1860]

Margaret Mariah Barney - born 5 March 1854 at Palmyra, Utah, and died 30 April 1856 in either Palmyra or Spanish Fork.

Wilbur Joseph Barney - born 19 October 1859 at Spanish Fork, Utah and died March 1864 at Spanish Fork, Utah.

William Alfred Berry - born 30 September 1861 at Spanish Fork, and died 14 October 1861 in Spanish Fork, Utah.


Alpharetta Boice - (adopted Indian girl) born May 1854 at Palmyra, Utah, and she died 7 December 1856 at Palmyra, Utah.


Julia Susannah Bowen - (name was listed on first monument). Julia was born 26 October 1859 at Spanish Fork, Utah She died 28 August 1861 at Spanish Fork.


Lucy Ann Bowen - born 10 April 1858 at Spanish Fork, Utah, and she died 26 May 1858 at Spanish Fork, Utah.

Joseph Gibson Boyack - born 7 October 1864 in Spanish Fork, died 15 March 1865 in Spanish Fork, Utah.


William Brown Brockbank - born 1855, and he died 4 Feb 1861 in Spanish Fork, Utah.



Lucy Ellen Buchanan - She was born 3 October 1861 in Spanish Fork, and died 7 months later on 17 May 1862, at Spanish Fork, Utah.



* Lucy Ellen Green Buchanan - this Lucy Buchanan was born 22 January 1843 in Kirtland, Geauga, Ohio, and died 3 November 1853 at Palmyra [Spanish Fork], Utah.
(She was buried in the Pioneer Cemetery, and later disinterred and buried, with a headstone, in the Spanish Fork City Cemetery in a plot beside her parents.)



Hugh Clotworthy - born 25 February 1827 at Donaghadle, Down, Ireland and died 9 February 1859 in Spanish Fork, Utah.



John Clotworthy - born 20 January 1858 at Spanish Fork, Utah, and died 10 August 1858 at Spanish Fork, Utah.



Samuel Clotworthy - born and died about 1859 in Spanish Fork, Utah.

• Joseph Coltrin - Stillborn in November 1852 in Palmyra, Utah.

Julia Ann Coltrin - born 4 May 1849 at Hazel Green, Grant, Wisconsin and died 31 March 1854 when she was five years old, at Spanish Fork, Utah.

• Thomas Cordingley - born 17 June 1812 at Idle, Yorkshire, England, and he died in 1856 at Spanish Fork, Utah.

• Grace Emily Lydia Last Cornaby - born 4 November 1863 and died 27 October 1864 at Spanish Fork, Utah. (Old Sexton Record Book says: "Grace E. L. L. Cornaby, born 4 Nov 1863 at Spanish Fork, father: Samuel Cornaby, mother: Hannah Last, single, died: 27 Oct 1864 at Spanish Fork, Utah from Black Canker. W. T. Dennis - block 1, Lot 28. "Disinterred from Eastern Graveyard.")

• Henry Last Cornaby - born 27 July 1856 at Salt Lake City, Utah, and he died 18 November 1857 at Spanish Fork, Utah. He was buried in the Pioneer Cemetery, The Sexton’s book also noted: ‘Disinterred from Eastern Graveyard’ and re-buried in Block 1, Lot 28 in the City Cemetery.”
  (Henry was buried in the Pioneer Cemetery, but is not buried there now.)

• Walter Last Cornaby - born 22 January 1859 at Spanish Fork, Utah and he died 9 June 1859 at Spanish Fork, Utah. He was buried in the Pioneer Cemetery, The Sexton’s book also noted: ‘Disinterred from Eastern Graveyard’ and re-buried in Block 1, Lot 28 in the City Cemetery.”
  (Walter was buried in the Pioneer Cemetery, but is not buried there now.)

**Note: Original research showed that the three above Cornaby children were buried in the City Cemetery, but after doing further research - under ‘Remarks’ in ‘Book A (F# 1654570) in the 1880 records they had a Bracket around all three names with the following notation: "Disinterred from Upper Grave yard, April 23rd, 1880". It appears all three Cornaby children were buried in the same grave in the City Cemetery - Block 1 Lot 28.

John Cowan - born 2 August 1782 at Campsie, Stirling, Scotland, and died 3 August 1858 at Spanish Fork, Utah.



* William Miller Creer - born July 1859 at Spanish Fork, and died 28 August 1860 at Spanish Fork, Utah. (Old Sexton Record Says: "William Miller Creer, born 22 July 1859 at Spanish Fork, Utah, father: William Creer, mother Sarah Jane Miller Bradley Creer, LDS, single, died: 28 Aug 1860 in Spanish Fork, burial: Old Graveyard." William was originally buried in the Pioneer Cemetery, and later disinterred and re-buried in the City Cemetery in Loc: 80.11.02.)



Phoebe Justine Darger - born January 1860 at Spanish Fork, Utah, and she died at age 2 years old in 1862 at Spanish Fork, Utah. Phoebe was one of the names that was listed on the monument.



Sarah Jane George Davis - born 14 November 1858 at Spanish Fork, Utah, and she died September 1860 at Spanish Fork, Utah, at age 22 months.



Mary Ann Taphouse Day - born about 1810 of Uxbridge, London, England, and died 11 September 1863 in Spanish Fork, Utah.



Alma Dimick - born 7 Feb 1847 at Wapello, Iowa and died 1 June 1862 at Spanish Fork, Utah. Alma was 15 years old when he drowned in the Spanish Fork flood waters.



James Phillip DuFresne - born January 1800 (in France or Canada) and he died at age 55 in Spanish Fork, Utah on 14 Oct 1858.

• Vardis John Fisher - bor 4 October 1785 at Guilford, Windham, Vermont and he died 25 February 1866 at Spanish Fork, Utah.

George Foster - born 6 September 1834 at South Shields, Durham, England, died 22 November 1857 at Spanish Fork, Utah.


Hattie Garfield - born 26 July 1861 at Spanish Fork, Utah and died 12 February 1862 at Spanish Fork, Utah.

• Moses Gay - born 21 March 1804 at Hubbardston, Worcester, Massachusetts, and died 27 May 1854 at Spanish Fork, Utah.

(Old Sexton Book says he was buried in the old Palmyra Graveyard (Pioneer Cemetery), and was later disinterred and buried near his wife in the New Spanish Fork City Cemetery.)



Jacobena Meteah Hansen (Sonberg) - born 9 April 1870 Ronbjerg, Ringkobing, Denmark, and died 31 July 1871 at Spanish Fork, Utah.




Albina Alvord Murray Hawkes - born 17 February 1814 at Lockport, Niagara, New York, and died November 1853 at Spanish Fork, Utah.


Joseph Bryant Hawkes - born 24 May 1799 at West Buxton, York, Main, and he died 12 December 1862 at Spanish Fork, Utah.


Levi Hawkes - born 18 September 1862 at Spanish Fork, Utah, and he died 29 November 1862 at Spanish Fork, Utah.


Lucy Ellen Higginson - born 8 November 1857 at Spanish Fork, Utah, and died 20 January 1858 at Spanish Fork, Utah.

Mary Ann Higginson - born 22 October 1861 at Spanish Fork, and died 12 September 1862 at Spanish Fork, Utah.


Coriantimur Hillman - born and died 4 October 1852 at Palmyra, Utah.
Records say that he was buried in the old Palmyra Cemetery, which was actually the Pioneer Cemetery in Spanish Fork



Shadrach Hillman - born 3 March 1854 at Palmyra, Utah and died 31 March 1854 at Palmyra.



* Dolly Patience Holt - born 30 June 1857 and died 1 August 1857 at Spanish Fork, Utah. (She was buried in the Pioneer Cemetery, with her mother and sister, and their bodies were later moved to the present City Cemetery.)



* Mary Leah Holt - born and died on 7 May 1860 at Spanish Fork, Utah.(She was buried in the Pioneer Cemetery, with her mother and sister, and their bodies were later Moved to the present City Cemetery.)



* Patience Dolly Childs Holt - born 27 Sept 1827 at Pomfort, Chatauqua, New York and died 9 May 1860 at Spanish Fork, Utah. (She was buried in the Old Pioneer Cemetery, but was later moved to the City Cemetery.)

* Sarah Jane Holt - born 13 September 1859 at Spanish Fork, Utah and died as a baby, thirteen months later, on 4 October 1860, in Spanish Fork. (She was buried in the Pioneer Cemetery and then moved to the new City Cemetery.)

George Sweeten Hunsaker - born 27 July 1857 at Carson Valley (Genoa), Douglas, Nevada, and died eleven months later, on 12 June 1858 at Spanish Fork, Utah.

David Rees Isaac - born 5 July 1864 at Spanish Fork, Utah and he died 8 February 1865 at Spanish Fork, Utah.

John Isaac - born 4 August 1861 in Spanish Fork, Utah, died 21 August 1861 at Spanish Fork, Utah.

Emily Heaton Jacob - 28 Nov 1810 at Burlington, Chittenden, Vermont and she died 6 Dec 1859 at Spanish Fork, Utah.

* Rachel Jane Job - born 15 June 1860 at Spanish Fork, Utah and she died 25 August 1861, at Spanish Fork, Utah.
(Rachel was buried in the Pioneer Cemetery and over 50 years later, her mother had her remains dug up and taken to Goshen, Utah where they were buried beside her father.)




Gundal Johnson - Died 24 Oct 1858 at Spanish Fork, Utah, and was buried in the Pioneer Cemetery.




Nathaniel Jordan - born 19 Nov 1810 at Pleasant, Brown, Ohio, and he died 1 Aug 1853 at Palmyra, Utah.




Mary King - born 27 June 1858 at Spanish Fork, Utah and died 16 September 1858 at Spanish Fork, Utah. Mary was one who was named on the old monument.

Leah Jane Lee - born 5 April 1858 at Spanish Fork, Utah and died 16 Dec 1858 at Spanish Fork, Utah.


Mary Gardner Sweeten Luckham - born 5 June 1807 at Kilsythe, Stirling, Scotland and she died 12 June 1858 in Spanish Fork, Utah. Listed on Original Monument as Mary Gardner Sweeten. Her grandson, George Sweeten Hunsaker, died the same day and was buried with her.

Agnes Malcolm - born 22 June 1846 at Grenock, Renfrew, Scotland, and died 29 September 1852, probably somewhere near Palmyra, Utah. The history says she was killed by a run-away wagon on the trip here [Palmyra]. It doesn’t say if she was buried anywhere else along the way.

James Malcolm - born 5 November 1848 at St. John, Newfoundland, Canada, and died 10 February 1854 in Palmyra, Utah from black diphtheria.


Mary Malcolm - born 22 September 1844 at Grenock, Renfrew, Scotland, and died 25 March 1854 in Palmyra, Utah from black diphtheria.

David William Arthur McKee - born 15 April 1853 at Palmyra, Utah and died 16 April 1853 at Spanish Fork, Utah.


James McKee - born 6 May 1820, at Butler, Pennsylvania, and he died 14 July 1861 at Spanish Fork, Utah.


Sarah Ann McKee - born 14 July 1861 in Spanish Fork, Utah, and died 21 February 1863 in Spanish Fork.




Elizabeth Ann McKell - born 1 January 1860 at Spanish Fork, Utah, and died as an infant on 10 February 1860 at Spanish Fork, Utah.





Helen Whytock Moncur McKell - born 12 November 1819 at Aushter, Mushty, Fifeshire, Scotland, and she died 3 February 1856 at Palmyra, Utah. (Helen was buried in the Old Pioneer (Palmyra) Cemetery, but her headstone was removed to the new City Cemetery.)




Mary McKell - born 1 January 1860 at Spanish Fork, Utah and died as an infant on 15 March 1860 at Spanish Fork, Utah.


Robina Wilson McKell - born 6 March 1788 at Mawbole, Ayrshire, Scotland, and she died 16 November 1856 at Spanish Fork, Utah.

Ann Morgan Morriss  - born 1817 and died in -1859 in Spanish Fork, Utah.

Electa Anthony Mott - born 22 September 1855 in Spanish Fork, and died in 1856 in Spanish Fork, Utah.



John Romanzo Mott - born 2 Dec 1851 in Spanish Fork, Utah and died 14 April 1852 in Spanish Fork, Utah.


Samuel Dwight Mott - born 20 September 1853 at Spanish Fork, Utah and died 27 July 1855 at Spanish Fork, Utah.

Miranda Jones Davis Newton - born 16 November 1786 at Berlin, Worcester, Massachusetts, and she died 9 December 1857 at Spanish Fork, Utah.



Oksine Ane Maria Nielsen - born 15 April 1858 at Thaarup, Sonder, Vinge, Viborg, Denmark, and she died 22 January 1862 at Spanish Fork, Utah.


Hannah Ann Buchanan Ogden - born 9 June 1857 at Spanish Fork, Utah and died 9 May 1858 at Spanish Fork, Utah.

* Hannah Eliza Simmons Pace - born 11 May 1845 at Hancock Co, Illinois, and she died December 1864 at Spanish Fork, Utah.


Mary Ann Pace - Listed on the Original Monument at the Pioneer Cemetery. She was born 17 February 1852 and died 24 February 1852 at Spanish Fork, Utah.



Mary Maria Pace - Listed on the Original Monument at the Pioneer Cemetery. She was born 21 February 1855 at Spanish Fork, and died 26 Jan 1857 at Spanish Fork, Utah.




Hyrum Smith Patterson - born 2 March 1854 at Kaysville, Davis, Utah and he died 18 March 1866 at Spanish Fork, Utah.



James Cummings Randall Patterson - born 5 April 1863 at Spanish Fork, Utah, and he died 26 May 1864 at Spanish Fork, Utah.



Samuel Patterson - born 8 February 1860 at Spanish Fork, Utah and he died 5 December 1864 at Spanish Fork, Utah.


Cynthia Matilda Raymond - born 31 Jan 1865 in Spanish Fork, and died 7 September 1865 in Spanish Fork, Utah



Samuel James Raymond - born 11 Aug 1855 at Spanish Fork, and died 24 September 1855 at Spanish Fork, Utah. (He was listed on the original monument.)



Ann (Redd) - born about 1834 in North Carolina and died 4 November 1854 in Spanish Fork, Utah. Ann was a black servant to the Redd family.




Chaney or Chancey (Redd) - born about 1812 in North Carolina, and she died between 1856 and 1860 at Spanish Fork, Utah. Chaney was a slave to the Redd family. Chaney’s daughter, Ann, is also buried in the Pioneer Cemetery.



Elizabeth Hancock Redd - born 25 Jan 1798 at Snead’s Ferry, Stump Sound, Onslow, North Carolina. She died 28 Nov 1853 at Spanish Fork, Utah. She was listed on the original monument. The Pioneer Cemetery was named after her and her family.




John Hardison Redd - Listed on Original Monument. He was born 27 December 1799 at Snead’s Ferry, Stump Sound, Onslow, North Carolina, and died on June 15th, 1858.
(John Hardison Redd is buried in the Pioneer Cemetery, along with his wife, Elizabeth Hancock Redd, their 15 year old son, John Holt Redd, and their grand-daughter, Mary Maria Pace.)



John Holt Redd - Listed on the Original Monument. He was born 13 June 1838 at Snead’s Ferry, Onslow, North Carolina, and he died 25 November 1853 at Spanish Fork, Utah.



* Luke (Redd) - born 9 January 1828 in North Carolina, and he came to Utah as a black slave with the John Hardison Redd family, and he died sometime after the 1870 census. (It is possible that Luke was buried in New Harmony, Utah; however no records have been found of him being buried there.)



Mary Catherine Redd - born 4 January 1834 at Sneads Ferry, Stump Sound, Onslow, North Carolina, and she died 5 May 1851 at Spanish Fork, Utah. She was the first of the Redd family to be buried in the old Pioneer Cemetery, which was originally called the “Redd Cemetery” after this family.
(Mary was the FIRST person to be buried in the Pioneer Cemetery, and it became known as the ‘Redd Cemetery’ for awhile.)



William Steven Riley - born 21 Dec 1853 at Palmyra, Utah and died as a child on 20 September 1855 at Palmyra, Utah.


Evan David Roach - born 15 December 1861 at Spanish Fork, Utah, and he died there the same day, 15 December 1861.

• Andrew Robertson - born 12 December 1799 at Tollcross, Barony, Lanark, Scotland, and he died 17 October 1864 at Spanish Fork, Utah.

Elizabeth Jane Robertson - born 15 January 1859 at Spanish Fork, and she died 25 October 1859 at Spanish Fork, Utah.



Hannah Robertson - born in August 1862 at Spanish Fork and she also died in August 1862 at Spanish Fork, Utah.



Levi Thomas Robertson - born 28 September 1854 at Palmyra, Utah and he died sometime before 1860.



Margaret Alice Robertson - She probably was born and died in 1858, in Spanish Fork, Utah. Family records list her as dying in infancy, and being born in 1858. She was not on the 1860 Census.



Sarah Ann Robertson - born 5 October 1856 in Springville, Utah, and she died 8 December 1863 at Spanish Fork, Utah. Some family records list her death date as 1856, but she was listed on the 1860 Census, in Spanish Fork.




George Washington Sevey - born 19 September 1857 at Spanish Fork, Utah and died 14 April 1858 at Spanish Fork, Utah.



Mary Johansen Sorensen - born 5 May 1857 in a dug-out in Spanish Fork, and died at the age of 1½ years old, on 4 November 1858, at Spanish Fork, Utah.



Eleanor Stewart - born about 1863 in Spanish Fork, Utah and died 1 September 1864 at Spanish Fork, Utah.


Thursa Jane Stewart - born about 1861 at Spanish Fork, Utah, and died 13 April 1862 at Spanish Fork, Utah.




William Chisholm Stewart - born 23 October in 1859 in Spanish Fork, Utah and died 14 September 1861 at Spanish Fork, Utah.




Amos Heber Stiles - born about 1853 probably in Spanish Fork, and died 20 December 1855 in Spanish Fork, Utah.




Peter Swenson - born 10 December 1859 at Spanish Fork, and he died 20 December 1859 at Spanish Fork, Utah.




Mary Gardner Sweeten - (See Mary Gardner Sweeten Luckham)




Oren James Thomas - born 12 February 1858 at Spanish Fork, Utah, and he died the same day 12 February 1858 at Spanish Fork. Oren was listed on the original monument at the Pioneer Cemetery.




Leah Jane Thompson - born 1 December 1840 at Nauvoo, Hancock, Illinois and she died 20 February 1858 at Spanish Fork, Utah.



Lydia Dolly Thompson - born 8 April 1853 at Spanish Fork, Utah and she died as a baby on 26 March 1854 at Spanish Fork, Utah.




Margaret Elizabeth Thompson - born 7 January 1855 at Spanish Fork, Utah and she died one year later on 18 February 1856 at Spanish Fork, Utah.






Mary Matilda Thompson - born 7 June 1850 at Council Bluff, Pottawattamie, Iowa and died 13 March 1854 at Spanish Fork, Utah.

• Thomas Thompson - born 17 August 1864 at Spanish Fork, Utah, and he died 23 August 1864 at Spanish Fork, Utah. (His remains were removed to the City Cemetery on May 29, 1890.)

* Lydia Rebecca Thurber - born 17 September 1856 in Spanish Fork and died 16 August 1857 at Spanish Fork, Utah. (For some reason she was listed on the 1860 Census in Spanish Fork)


Payton L. Tindall - born about 1848 of Rutherford, Tennessee. He died 31 July 1852 in Spanish Fork, Utah.




Sarah Ann Holt Tindall - Born 20 April 1825 at Rutherford, Tennessee. She died 1 May 1852 in Spanish Fork, Utah. One record lists her husband, Furney, being buried in the Pioneer Cemetery, but he was buried in Payson, Utah.




Bengta 'Alfredina' Tullgren - born 27 Sept 1859 at Spanish Fork, Utah, Utah, and died when 11 months old on 25 Aug 1860 at Spanish Fork, Utah.




Harriet Elizabeth Wilson - born 22 November 1862 of Grantsville, Tooele, Utah, and she seems to have died at Spanish Fork, Utah on 6 December 1862.
 

Spanish Fork Pioneer Cemetery July 21, 2009 Rededication and Program

Rededication Prayer
Spanish Fork Pioneer Cemetery
July 21, 2009

given by
Ross E. Baadsgaard
President
Spanish Fork Utah Palmyra Stake


Our kind and loving Father in Heaven, we gather here to rededicate this sacred plot of ground in remembrance of the early settlers whose mortal bodies were laid to rest here. We thank thee for the peace and beauty of this site, surrounded by pastoral farmlands, comfortable homes, majestic mountains, and a thriving community.

We acknowledge that what we now enjoy had its beginnings in tents, wagons and dug-outs in the hillside below as shelters from the elements. We recognize that many of the graves here represent young children buried by heart-broken parents, as well as husbands buried by wives and wives buried by husbands. We know that this place has been consecrated and made sacred by the faith and sacrifice of those who first settled here.

We express our gratitude for truths revealed from Thee that inspired those early settlers to endure all manner of hardship and deprivation to make possible the blessings we now enjoy. As so beautifully depicted by this monument, we thank thee for the hope and vision that inspired them to look forward to a better day, and to know that their sacrifice would lay the foundation for peace and prosperity for future generations.

We thank Thee for turning the hearts of those now living to those first settlers, for Thy guiding hand in helping to identify those who lie here, that they may not be forgotten. We thank thee for stirring the hearts of all those of good will who made the restoration of this cemetery possible through generous offerings of time, talent and resources. We pray that our efforts might preserve the memory of these people for many generations to come, and that the hearts of our children and grandchildren will in turn be turned to their fathers.

We therefore dedicate this Pioneer Cemetery to be a place of remembrance, a bridge between generations, a place of contemplation, a place of peace, a place of vision and hope. We consecrate this place to bring comfort and peace to the posterity of those whose mortal remains were put here to rest. We ask Thee to provide Thy watchful care over this sacred place, to protect this monument from the elements, and to preserve the improvements that lend such beauty and peace. We ask Thee to bless those that care and maintain this facility with a spirit of reverence as they go about their work. We ask thee to bless those that visit here with that same spirit of reverence and respect, with a feeling of connection between generations, and a spirit of renewal that has accompanied all aspects of this endeavor.

We ask Thee to bless us with a willingness to rededicate our lives, even as we rededicate this cemetery, to become part of an unbroken chain extending from those we honor today to future generations, willing to exercise faith, sacrifice, hope and vision to provide a peaceful and prosperous community for those that follow us.

With humility and gratitude we offer this prayer of dedication in the sacred name of Thy Son Jesus Christ, Amen.


Pioneer Heritage Cemetery Re-Dedication Program



July 21st 2009 at 7:00 p.m.


6:45 Prelude music (Crystal Strings Quartet)


7:00 Song: Harp Solo “Star Spangled Banner” (Alex Bigny)


7:03 Invocation (Richard Davis)


7:05 Welcome and order of events (Dale Robinson)


7:10 Recognition of City Staffers Work (Dale Robinson or City Councilman)


7:15 History of site before restoration (Susan Barber)


7:20 History of restoration planning (Pat Mitchel)


7:25 DUP Recognition (Katherine Brimhall DUP marker chairwoman)


7:30 Song Primary Children Sang As They Walked & The Handcart Song (Primary children with harp (Alex Bigny) and violin (Lisa Jackson)


7:35 Story of person buried at pioneer cemetery (Janene Baadsgaard)


7:40 Flower Presentation on graves/violin solo/ names of dead read(at the same time)

children (Primary children)

violin solo Come, Come Ye Saints and Be Still My Soul (Barbara Forsey)

pioneer names read (Dale Robinson)

7:45 Reading of Plaque (Mayor Thomas)

Unveiling of Statue (Mayor Thomas assisted by statue artists)

Harp accompaniment They the Builders of the Nation (Alex Bigny)

7:50 Placing of flower wreath next to statue (Tella Montague)

7:55 Dedication Prayer (President Baadsgaard)

8:00 Dismissal (Dale Robinson)

8-8:15 Postlude music (Crystal Strings Quartet)

Spanish Fork Pioneer Cemetery Pictures by Janene Baadsgaarad

The restoration of the Spanish Fork Pioneer Cemetery has been a dream come true for me. Each time I go there I feel peace and joy. I feel so grateful that I was able to be part of this wonderful project. I hope you enjoy these pictures that show the remarkable transformation of this sacred site. I hope you are able to visit some day. For an article about the re-dedication click here.

Spanish Fork Pioneer Cemetery Story by Janene Baadsgaard and given at the Rededication on July 21, 2009

WE REMEMBER

A tribute written for the Pioneer Cemetery Re-dedication

given July 21, 2009

by

Janene Baadsgaard


I would like each of you to close your eyes for a moment and imagine you have suddenly been taken back in time to the 1850’s. You are a Spanish Fork pioneer. A number of years ago you were driven from a comfortable home and have since made a difficult journey to the Salt Lake Valley. Then you were called by Brigham Young to settle here in this area.
You possess only a small wagon and team with scanty food supplies. During the summer you live out of your four-foot-wide wagon box or in a tent. There is little to eat: jack rabbits, fish, and pigweed. You cook your food over an open fire. Without the means to construct a log or adobe home, you dig a hole in ground and pray for a mild winter.
In the first few years of colonization many families gather to this area and become your neighbors. Some settlers live along the river bottoms just below this site and others about three miles west. With so many dug-outs this settlement is soon called gopher town. Your sod roof becomes dripping mud in wet weather. Mosquitoes, snakes, flies, and mice are in your food, hair and blankets.
Most of your crops have been destroyed by a grasshopper plague and you don’t know how you are going to make it through the winter. You hope for mild weather, but soon discover that this winter is cold, harsh and filled with tragic accidents and disease. Cattle are dying; typhus fever and cholera are spreading.
Yet even in these trying times you fall in love, marry and work hard to provide for your new family. You are now expecting your first child. Then suddenly one day during a blizzard your wife screams your name you know there isn’t enough time to call for the midwife. As you desperately try to comfort your companion, you fear you are about to lose both your wife and child. Then, your tiny son slips into the world. You clear his mouth with your finger and listen to his first cry break the frigid air as you wrap him tightly in your own coat.
Wind howls outside your dug-out. You have only an old quilt between you, your family and a severe storm. Your wife is weak and tired so you huddle under the blankets with the baby safely between you. You speak of spring and warmer times ahead. You silently pray the whiteout will cease so you can go for help, but the snowstorm rages on. Then finally in sheer exhaustion, you, your wife and baby fall asleep.
When the first stream of sunlight breaks into your dug-out the next morning you wake and notice the wind has stopped. You are relieved the storm has past. Then you glance over to your wife. She is still asleep, but you notice your newborn son has grown cold. You try desperately to blow warm air on his face but your breath drifts like smoke into the frigid air. Your tiny newborn’s face is blue. And then you know for sure what you think you cannot bare . . . your child is dead.
Later, when you leave your wife’s side to go for help, a kind neighbor assists you with the burial of your only child by keeping a fire burning all day and night so he can get his spade into the frozen earth. The bluff of the hill just above your dug-out is your child’s final resting place. As your newborn son is slowly lowered into the earth, you look out over the snow covered river bottoms and raise your eyes to the majestic view of rugged mountains to the east. Then you kneel in the frozen snow beside his grave, whisper your last goodbye and weep.
This is the story of one person who is buried in the Spanish Fork Pioneer Cemetery. There are many more. Because I did the research to find the names and stories of those buried here, I now feel I should take off my shoes when I walk here; for this is sacred ground. This pioneer cemetery is the final resting place of those who lived and died struggling to survive during the difficult early years of building a new settlement in Spanish Fork. Their lives deserve to be remembered and honored.

So, to the dead who were laid to rest here we say . . . we remember you . . . we remember your name . . . we remember your bravery in the face of hardship. We remember the babies who died in your arms. We remember your pain and tears. We remember all you gave up for us. Yet we also remember your joy and your boldness to begin anew in spite of trials and hardship. Because of you we also desire to find new courage to move ahead with our own lives in spite of the challenges we face today. Because of you we remember spring follows the winter and a new dawn always follows even the darkest night.
We remember each of you with hope, optimism, love and deepest respect. We remember you . . . and we will never forget.

SPANISH FORK PIONEER CEMETERY IS REBORN - by Janene Baadsgaard (Stay tuned for transformation photos and re-dedication program soon.)

A few years ago I was asked to be the chairman of the committee to restore the original Spanish Fork Cemetery. This invitation sparked my interest because I had an ancestor who died in Spanish Fork in the early 1850’s who is not listed as being buried in the current cemetery. Each year on July 24th, I’d hike a weed covered hill to the site of the original cemetery on a bluff overlooking the Spanish Fork River. There were no headstones there and the place was overgrown with weeds. The only way to tell this site was once a pioneer cemetery was by an old rock and mortar monument that listed fifteen names. I had to wonder, “If my ancestor’s name is missing from this list on the monument, who else is missing? It didn’t seem right that the earliest settlers to this area were all but abandoned and forgotten.

When I took this assignment I was told there was no known list of the people buried there and it would impossible to compile such a list. So plans moved ahead to restore the cemetery and turn the surrounding area into a memorial garden with a life size bronze statue of a pioneer family, a walking path and story boards. Generous Spanish Fork City leaders, community members and volunteers gave of their money and time to help in the effort. Yet something inside me couldn’t let go of the idea that I had to try to compile the most complete list to date of possible burials at this abandoned cemetery.

I heard conflicting stories about the old headstones. No one knew what happened to them. One day I was looking at the monument and noticed some of the old headstones had been used like decorative bricks in the monument. Several markers were placed along the top. Two were loose and when I removed them I could see the initials of two deceased persons – (W. G. E. and H. M. G.). It was an electrifying moment that tugged at my heart. I knew I had to do everything I could to locate the names of all the burials.

So I searched old sexton’s records, Deseret News death notices, family histories, local history books, original LDS church ward records, and web sites dedicated to family research. I invited any person interested to help me in this search. Because records at that time are incomplete and spotty at best, the search was long and complicated. I found some bodies had been buried in this original cemetery but later disinterred and moved to the current cemetery. Some bodies were not moved but new headstones were later placed in the current cemetery. I also found that both the original and the current Spanish Fork cemetery were used concurrently for a period of time.

During my research I uncovered many touching stories about the earliest settlers. These courageous people lived in tents, wagon boxes or dug-outs. They dealt with hostile natives, crop failures, inadequate shelter, starvation, illness, tragic accidents, poverty and disease. I read the story of a young mother and father huddled together under a blanket on a freezing cold night trying to keep their newborn alive inside their primitive dug-out. When they woke in the morning, their tiny child had frozen to death during the night. I learned about a volunteer sexton who kept a fire burning all night so he could get a shovel into the frozen earth to bury the dead. And through it all, I learned to truly reverence and honor the people who lived and died here.

I have now uncovered over 100 names. Names that have been forgotten and lost but are forgotten and lost no more.

We will be having a re-dedication ceremony on July 21 at 7:00. If you can't make it to the ceremony come by another time . . . and soak in the peace and hope that reside at this place. The panoramic view from this sacred site is perhaps the most majestic in all of Utah County. I hope you will visit some day. And may you find the courage to move forward with your life in spite of the challenges you face.

A Home For ALL Decades

I’ve read all the interior decorating books where they inform novices like me to select colors and furnishings that all go together so one room of my house will flow into the next without abrupt changes in styles and hues. I understand all that - but I don’t always do it. I don’t do it because I can only afford to fix up one area of my house per decade.
When you walk through my home you’ll find the styles and colors of the seventies in some rooms, eighties in others and the nineties in a couple more. Because I just updated my kitchen I now have a new decade represented in my home. Walking around my house is definitely not like taking a Parade of Homes tour - but it is a trip down memory lane. Sometimes when my grown children return home, they say it feels like walking back in time when they go into their old bedrooms and see everything the way they left it.
It’s not that I’m overly sentimental when it comes to all the stuff in my house; I just don’t see the point of frequent changes any more. This is what I’ve learned after being alive for over half a century. Everything goes full circle. The rooms with seventies colors and styles are actually back into groovy now. So, if you hold onto your things long enough, eventually they come back in style.
I remember walking into an older woman’s home when I was in my twenties. I had bought into our culture’s idea that being trendy and up to date actually mattered. I knew precisely what was popular in home furnishings and clothing.
“Doesn’t she know she is so sixties?” I remember thinking.
Now I’m that older woman with the out-of-date house. I can answer that question for young people this way, “Yes, I know I’m out of style but I really don’t care any more. If the couch is still comfy and the colors don’t drive me crazy, why hurry and change things? If I wait long enough I’ll be in style again in about thirty years anyway.”
I’ve also learned that styles and trends aren’t the only things that return after thirty years. All our small seemingly unimportant thoughts and actions eventually create our reality and eventual destiny. In other words, what we send out into the world returns to us a hundred fold. We cannot reap what we did not sew. So day by day we plant the thoughts and deeds that will grow into our life’s story.
If we desire to love and serve more than we desire fame or fortune we may be out of step with our culture’s measure of success but we will in step to the law of the harvest. Thought and action is real; possessions and recognition a slippery illusion. Ultimately we keep only who we have become, what we’ve learned, and the gifts we’ve willingly shared.
The most important journey of life is finding our true self by losing our selfish self. What we embrace, create and share becomes our eventual reality. We finally find our way back home when we relish the simple things in life and we are at peace with our self. And that’s how we truly make a home for the decades.

Why Babies Never End

For June 24th 2009

On a bright sunny day in June a beautiful baby girl was born. Her mother took one look at her new daughter and instantly fell in love. She hugged and kissed her new baby over every square inch of her tiny plump pink body. She noticed her rich brown hair, deep dark eyes and the round softness of her checks.
The nurses at the hospital felt they needed to take the baby away from the mother to weigh, measure and bathe her. The mother reluctantly agreed but her arms felt empty and she missed her daughter as soon as their skin wasn’t touching any more.
Before long the nurses came back into the mother’s hospital room and told her that her baby wouldn’t quit crying.
She misses me too, the mother thought.
“Just bring her back to me,” the mother told the nurse with a knowing smile.
The nurse brought the baby girl back into the mother’s room and her mother’s arms. She immediately stopped crying, looked up at her mother and sighed.
As the mother looked into her infant daughter’s eyes she knew instantly that she was extraordinary. The mother had heard a song where the lyrics described her new daughter so well, she decided to name her Arianne.
Arianne grew and grew. Her brother and sisters fought over who got to hold and play with her. Even as a small child Arianne had the aura of a queen – calm, noble and wise. She would snuggle with her mother for hours while they rocked back and forth. When her mother couldn’t hold her, the girl found her thumb and a soft blanket - but they were never quite as good as her real mom.

Arianne soaked in the world with singular attention and awareness.
She sang like an opera star, noticed every new bird, wild flower or interesting cloud. She observed the colors of the sunset and breathed in the scent of lilacs and cinnamon rolls. Everywhere she went she recorded the wonders of her life on a pad of paper. She drew pictures or wrote stories about all the beauty she saw.
One day the little girl discovered a neglected place in her yard. She had a vision in her head about a beautiful garden. So she worked and worked all by herself. When the garden was finished, Arianne discovered she could also create beauty. She found her mother and took her by the hand to show her the secret garden because she knew she’d love it as much as she did. Then Arianne presented her mother with a book filled with her visions of a secret garden filled with fairies and flowers.



Days turned into weeks and weeks into years and the little girl grew up. One day the mother and Arianne went on an outing. All the way there and back they talked and cried because they both knew Arianne was going to get married soon. It felt like that day in the hospital when the nurses wanted to separate them. That night they sat together at the piano and their skin touched again and felt so warm.
So Arianne got married and moved away. But she kept looking for beauty all around her and found it everywhere - in people, nature, knowledge, and wisdom.
Then one day Arianne went to the hospital, had her own baby and fell in love.
Now when she comes home, she fills her mother’s arms with new babies. Then they sit on the sofa and share their visions of beauty. . . and of joy of love that never ends.