When Someone Loves You They Always Come Back

Happy Birthday Bradley

Here is a story I wrote just for you.

WHEN SOMEONE LOVES YOU

THEY ALWAYS COME BACK

by

Grandma Baadsgaard

 

 

When Bradley was just about to leave for the first day of school, his little sister Isabella cried. Bradley understood.

“I know you’ll miss me Izzy,” he said. “But don’t worry. I always come back.”

Izzy wiped her eyes and wrapped her arms around Bradley’s neck. She waved from the front room window as she watched him walk to the bus stop with his friend.

Izzy played with her toys and ate lunch. She asked her mother when Bradley was coming home 367 times.

“Don’t worry,” Izzy’s mother said. “Brad will always come back.”

Izzy wasn’t sure. She watched the clock all day waiting. Then Izzy saw a big yellow bus. She asked her mother if she could go to the bus stop. Her mother took her by the hand and they walked to the bus stop together.

When Bradley stepped off the bus, Izzy ran over to him and hugged him so tight he almost fell over. Izzy always gave gigantic, enormous hugs. That was one thing Brad liked most about his new sister – her hugs and the way she smiled. Bradley liked having a mom, dad and a little sister. While Izzy was hugging him, he remembered the court hearing when the nice lady judge said that he was officially adopted by his mom and dad. Then he remembered the same lady judge a while later when his little sister was officially adopted too. The judge gave them a soft teddy bear and a candy bar. His parents told the judge they felt like they won the lottery. Everybody smiled and hugged and took pictures. Bradley told the judge he was happy to have a real family.

Then one day Bradley found out that his grandpa in Texas died. His mother and father would have to spend a week traveling there to arrange for the funeral. Bradley worried. He liked sleeping in his own bed. The next day, he was staying with his aunt and sleeping on an air mattress.

“Don’t worry,” Bradley said to Izzy when she had a hard time going to sleep. “Mommy and Daddy will come back.”

It was a long week, first he stayed at one aunt’s house, then another and for the last few days, he stayed with his Utah grandma and grandpa. Sometimes he worried that something bad would happen to his mommy and daddy and they would die like his Texas grandpa.

“When people die, do they ever come back?” Bradley asked his Utah grandma.

“When people die, their spirit leaves their body and their body gets buried in the ground. Their spirit is still alive. They can’t come back into their body for a while. But there will be a time when their spirit and body come back together and we can see them. When someone loves you, they always come back.”

On the day when his parents were expected home, his Utah grandpa and grandma drove Bradley and Izzy back over to their house. Bradley thought his daddy and mommy would be there to greet him but they weren’t. Bradley worried.

Grandma saw the worried look on Bradley face.

“Don’t worry Brad,” they will be here any minute.”

Bradley waited and waited. He looked down the street and waited some more. Then he saw his parent’s car come around the corner. When Bradley’s mom and dad climbed out of the car, Bradley ran over and gave them an enormous hug.

“What is the matter?” his mother asked when she saw a tear in Bradley’s eye.

“Nothing,” Bradley answered. “I’m just happy you’re home.”

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Last Few Days of Autumn Splendor at the Cabin with the Moody boys - my grandsons

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Love That Will Not Die

There is with the change of season 

a bit of melancholy

- a longing to hold fast

to what must inevitably pass.

Yet there remains a element

of stillness 

then peace.

For what we long to hold close

is what we have loved.

And even though all things must pass away - 

our love remains -

the emptiness

is filled

with

memory

and

love

that will not die.

                                                                                      Janene Baadsgaard

 

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The Magic of a Moment with Alisa Baadsgaard

My daughter Alisa.

 

My twelve-year-old daughter Alisa is a wonderful artist

who sees beauty and wonder everywhere.

Sometimes she captures the moment with her camera,

sometimes with a song she composes

and other times with a drawing.

She recently won the statewide "Make Your Mark" Bookmark Design Contest

that came with a $1,000 UESP college savings certificate.

This is Alisa's Book Mark Design

 

Alisa also recently took this picture that I love.

This is what she said about it. . .

 

"I took this picture of my four-year-old niece

while we were blowing bubbles in our backyard.

I chose to use bubbles as my subject because

 they are so magical and only last a moment.

The bubble represents one moment in time.

The things we enjoy most don't last.

You have to catch and enjoy each fleeting moment before it is gone.

The tiny hands represent the beauty and magic of childhood.

For children grow up and soon they're grown.

When I printed this picture,

I was surprised to see that the bubble looked as though it could be a fragile earth,

suspended in black space.

We live out our lives on this delicate orb.

Our very existence is a magical moment in time." 

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The Gift of a Brother

Emily with baby brother Daniel.

 One of the greatest gifts a parent can give a child is the gift of a brother or a sister. These are the people you grow up with, the people who know you best, the people who are always there for you. Friends come and go like the leaf in the wind. A brother or a sister is yours forever.



Andrew finally has a brother!

Libby with baby brother Daniel.

Sandy with baby brother Daniel.

Jordan and Karen Baadsgaard family in the hospital after Daniel is born.

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Daniel Rayne Baadsgaard is Born Today!

My newest grandchild Daniel Rayne was born today. He weighed 8 lbs 3 oz.
I can't wait to hold him in my arms.
His middle name is a combination of his two grandfathers - Ross and Thayne.

Mother and baby are doing well.

This is the fifth child for my son Jordan and his wonderful wife Karen.
Congratulations!

There is nothing more important than the birth of a brand new person. There is no greater miracle. I applaud every mother and father that is willing to welcome a new child into their heart and home. Pin It

Autumn's Invitation To Pause

Autumn invites us to wander - to see natural beauty in both the great and the small.

Fall days are alternately large, grand and stunning - then small, quiet and still.

Splendor is in found in grand mountain landscapes or in a single crimson jewel.

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Poem For A Two-Year-Old

When You’re Two

By Granny B

Happy Birthday Rylan!

I can’t believe you’re two.

Here is a poem I wrote just for you.

 

 I’m so tired said mother to her son

All day long you keep me on the run

I’m so tired said boy to his mom

There’s so much food to make into bombs.

 

Boy smiles and mother sighs

Sometimes they both don’t see eye-to-eye

For little boys and moms have so much work

That sometimes they both go berserk

 

Yet it takes a mother to show the way

Before boy becomes a man someday.

 

So for now . . .

 

Boys have holes to dig

And shoes to fill are way too big

Boys have rocks to huck

And goose-egg lack of luck

Boys have trucks to propel

And lots of screams to exhale

Boys have hills and beds to romp

And lots of bugs to stomp

 

And when the day is done

And two sleepy heads can’t run

Moms and boys still give lots of hugs

For that’s what love is really made of

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The Last Rose of Summer by Thomas Moore

This morning I walked our garden,
gathering the last of our harvest before the frost.
That's when I saw her . . . the last rose of summer.
These words with the traditional melody filled my mind
with longing and with song.

'Tis the last rose of summer,
Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone;
No flower of her kindred,
No rose bud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,
or give sigh for sigh.

I'll not leave thee, thou lone one,
To pine on the stem,
Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go sleep thou with them;
Thus kindly I scatter
Thy leaves o'er the bed,
Where thy mates of the garden
Lie, scentless and dead.

So soon may I follow,
When friendships decay,
And from loves shining circle
the gems drop away,
When true hearts lie withered,
And fond ones are flown,
Oh,who would inhabit
this bleak world so alone.

'Tis the last rose of summer,
Left a bloomin alone.
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Autumn Musings

We watch them leave home in autumn.

 

At the curtain waving good-bye.

We are the ones breathing a sigh.

 

As trees lose their leaves

in the brisk mountain air-

limbs become sullen, dark, and bare.

 

Then flowing like honey to the valley floor,

the season reappears and gives us more.

 

 

Crimson, copper and gold all about,

as if to say good-bye with a majestic shout.

Each day is fleeting like a leaf on the wind-

yet as one season passes, another begins.

 

Like wind through the forest or small grains of sand,

the boy we once knew has become a man.

Now our little girl, once covered in lace,

becomes a new mother and takes our place.

 

Cycle of living, season of song, embraces and whispers,

 

"Life goes on."

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Spanish Fork Pioneer Cemetery Now Complete

We just put the finishing touches on the restored Pioneer Cemetery in Spanish Fork, Utah. We have erected a granite marker with all the names of those buried here and also eight story boards that tell you a little bit about the first settlers to this area and the people who are buried here.
For more information and a picture of me in the Provo Daily Herald check here.

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Utah Mountains in the Fall + Family = Love

I thought the autumn colors were going to be muted this fall because of the drought. I was wrong. My family went camping in Spanish Fork Canyon this past weekend with our children and grandchildren. We enjoyed picnics, 4-wheeler rides, campfires, marshmallows, tents, long talks and games.

I listened to a family life expert once who said that the one common activity of healthy, happy families was camping. Now I know why. When you are away from modern technology and surround yourself with the beauties of nature and family, it takes your breath away.

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The Boy Who Couldn't Find His Words

The Boy Who Couldn’t Find His Words

By

Grandma Baadsgaard

Happy Birthday Liam!

I can’t believe you are two years old today.

Here is a story I wrote just for you.

I love you so, so much. I can see the great man you will be some day.

 

          When Liam woke up in the morning he saw his mother’s bright smiling face looking up at him.

          He wanted to say, “You are the most stunningly beautiful woman in the entire universe!” but he couldn’t find his words.

So Liam wrapped his arms around his mother’s neck and squeezed so tight her head almost popped off.

          When Liam saw his dad eating corn flakes for breakfast in the kitchen he wanted to say, “Where do you go every day? I miss you.”

But he couldn’t find his words so he grunted and gave his dad five knuckles.

          When Liam looked out the east window and saw the sun rise casting bright pink streaks across the sky, he wanted to “Oh my goodness gracious that is the most majestic sunrise in the history of mankind.”

But he couldn’t find his words so he smooshed his nose against the window pain and let out a long slow sigh.

          When Liam took his morning bath, he wanted to say, “Hey there mates. There is gold in this here ocean for the taking. Shiver me timbers and raise the cross-bones.”

But he couldn’t find his words so he screamed.

          When Liam was told to take a nap, he wanted to say, “What in the world are you thinking mom. I have oceans to cross, mountains to climb and bad guys to fight. And you want me to take a nap?”

But he couldn’t find his words, so he lowered his eyebrows, stomped his foot and grunted.

          When Liam woke up, his diaper was bulging. He wanted to say, “Look the package for these diapers says they hold up to twenty pounds but I believe that refers to my weight not the weight of the diaper.”

But he couldn’t find the words so he pointed to his bulging bottom and scrunched his face.

When Liam’s brother took his favorite red truck away and dashed down the stairs to hide, Liam wanted to say, “Look buster! I’m going to be six foot six and 300 pounds pretty soon, so you better not give me bad memories.”

But Liam couldn’t find his words so he shrieked so loud his mother covered her ears.

          When it was time to go to bed, his mother took out his favorite book and motioned for him to come snuggle. Liam wanted to say, “Being in your arms and listening to you read makes me feel so warm and safe that I want to stay in your hug forever.”

But he couldn’t find the words so he melted into his mother’s lap and sighed.

“I love you Liam,” his mother said when she tucked him into bed that night . . . more than the sands on the shore, more than the stars in the sky. You are Liam the love of my life.”

          Someday when Liam finds his words, he will have a lot to say.      

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What I've Learned as a member of the New Horizon's Orchestra

         When I was growing up, I always dreamed of playing violin in the school orchestra. I begged my mother, but she told me only rich kids could do that. So I sang in the choir instead. Singing didn’t cost anything. Well, I grew up and got married. Thirty exhilarating and exhausting years passed before the last of my ten children started school. I was in my fifties and for the first time had a few hours for myself. I wasn’t ready for the rocking chair.

Then a friend told me about an orchestra she played in. She said they took beginners. The whole idea that it was possible to learn a string instrument as an adult was something I didn’t know was possible. I expressed my interest and my self-doubts. Then this friend said she had an extra violin at her house gathering dust and offered to let me borrow it and told me she would pick me up and take me to my first rehearsal.  

            I was pretty darn nervous when I arrived at a rehearsal for the first time. I’d never touched a violin before. I didn’t even know how to open the black case, let alone how to hold the instrument or the bow. I started perspiring. I was afraid someone in authority would tell me I was too old and too dumb to be part of this elite group.
          Then our conductor, Andrew Dabczynski, stepped in front of the group and asked the members of the orchestra if they could remember how to hold their instrument.
          A man on the back row raised his arm and answered, “Is this the right way teacher?”

           I turned around just in time to see a distinguished gentleman place a very large bass across his lap and strum it like a guitar. Everybody burst out laughing. That was the moment when I took a deep breath and stopped perspiring. I was going to fit into this group after all. Maybe playing a string instrument was not just for stuffed-shirt arrogant rich people like my mother told me years ago. Maybe, just maybe, they would let me stay.

Later they took me and all the beginners into a separate room and began our primary instruction. Gordon Childs, a gentle, good natured, patient man was my teacher. The first time I played a note, the sound I produced resembled sick birds with scratchy sore throats but I didn’t have to stand out because everybody else in my small group sounded just like me. Our instructor kept teaching and encouraging us until we could play well enough to go in with the other more advanced players.

While all this transpired, I noticed strange things happening to me. Sleepy parts of my brain were waking up. Rusty screws loosened up inside my head as I struggled to use my rarely used left hand to find notes, my right hand to draw the bow and my ears to tell me when I was playing out of tune. I noticed my fingers drumming note placements on my bed pillow before I went to sleep at night. I heard rehearsal melodies drifting through my mind at odd times, like when I was driving the car or doing the dishes.

As our director gently guided us through our first elementary songs, there were moments when the music seemed to lift from the page and soak into my soul. Creating beautiful music moved me. I felt aroused and elevated-like I was flying without leaving the ground. I discovered that the learning process was not intimidating or humiliating; it was energizing, exhilarating and just plain fun. After we played our first song in three parts, I jumped from my seat like a two-year-old and yelled, “We did it! We made music!”

One of the side benefits I didn’t expect from my participation in the New Horizon’s Orchestra is the effect it has had on my children and grandchildren. After attending my concerts and watching mom do it, my son decided he wanted to learn to play the bass and my daughter decided she wanted to learn to play the cello. The other day my granddaughter told me she wants to learn the violin. Sometimes we play together in the living room on cold winter nights and it warms me.

I’ve learned other things as well. Orchestra members have become real friends who uplift and inspire each other. One woman in our group had a brain tumor resulting in the removal of portions of her brain. She went into a deep depression that didn’t lift until her husband brought her to our rehearsals. As she learned to play again, her brain developed new pathways and many other abilities came back to her. Another woman crippled with arthritis plays in the cello section. She has Mona Lisa painted on her music stand and her courage, determination, positive attitude and beautiful smile gives us all a lift every week. Some of our members have lost husbands, wives, children and grandchildren. Others have had to go back to work or move. But we are family. Once a New Horizon’s Orchestra member  –  always a New Horizon’s Orchestra member.

Playing in New Horizon’s Orchestra has also become my metaphor for joyful living. For example, I play second violin in our orchestra. The other members of the group who play in that section sit 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 players next to me can’t stop playing to instruct me without also losing their place, but when they can tell I’m lost, they will quickly whisper the number of the measure we’re on. In a similar way, we can’t solve problems for other people, and they can’t solve ours. But we can listen carefully so we are aware when someone around us has lost their place. 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 in tune.

For another example, when our orchestra is playing disjointedly 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 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 ourselves and are unable to play the notes together as beautifully as we could. In a similar way, if we want to get in tune with those around us, we have to occasionally get our minds off ourselves long enough to listen. Then we will notice subtle expressions of need and hear the silent cries of those across the way. When all of us are sensitive to the needs of each other, we can play the score of life with infinitely more harmony and grace. When we feel discouraged, we need to remember that we are never alone. When we are lost, we just need to listen. The melody is never far away. There is love all around and inside us. All we have to do is listen.

Sometimes I still pinch myself and think, “I’m playing a violin in an orchestra. I can’t believe I’m playing in an orchestra. Some dreams really do come true.”

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John is an Eagle Scout

My son John is receiving his Eagle Scout Award this Sunday.
I just want to take a minute to tell you why John is such an incredible young man. He has a soul much wiser than his 15 years.

John is a talented musician. He sings, composes and plays the piano, bass and guitar. He has his own music studio with 13 piano students. He plays the piano at church, sings in several choirs and had the lead role of the Beast in his school play "Beauty and the Beast".

John loves learning and his numerous academic awards speak of a dedicated student who always strives for excellence.

John loves children. His twenty nieces and nephews love to be around him and he takes the time to be their friend.

John looks out for others by being a friend to those who really need one. I often have parents approach me and tell me how much John's friendship or example has meant to their child.

John volunteers his time to clean the church and help his friends on their Eagle projects. He is an indexer who volunteers many hours to create digital records for those seeking their ancestors.

Best of all, John is a loving son, brother and uncle. I love him and honor him for a life well lived.

Congratulations John.
I love you,
MOM

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