new timer

I like to use a timer to keep from dawdling during chore time. Recently, I realized I could use conference talks for this purpose, since most are about 10-20 min. Yesterday as I listened to David Bednar remind me of my love of Family History, I de-junked and cleaned 4 drawers in the kitchen. It turned out to be a wonderful spiritual experience, as he reminded my of my duty towards and love for my departed family. He reminded me of sweet Sister Doyle, who taught me how to fill out family group sheets and pedigree charts, when I was only 17. She also told me about the Family History Library in SLC, where I spent my first wonderful week discovering the joys of research...and pursuing my husband.

Later in the day, I spent a bit of time on FamilySearch. I entered the death dates of my newly departed in-laws. Then I looked at my own submissions from the above work and research I've compiled from the work of dear aunties like Aunt Dorothy. This time, however, I found much more. Wondering who this person was that knew about my sweet aunt, I emailed her to inquire. By the end of the afternoon, she and I had exchanged greetings and stories. She also let me view and copy pictures and documents relating to Aunt Dorothy and my Great-Grandparents.

Dorothy Winifred Bradshaw Nix

I've never seen a picture of Aunt Dorothy as a young woman and only knew her as a sweet white haired lady that cared for Evie, her younger sister with Down's Syndrome. We share the same deep set eyes. I also never saw a picture of my Great-Grandmother, who died at age 60 from breast and kidney cancer. She gave me my ears.

Mary Winifred Hall Bradshaw

Another thing I found was a link to the Pennington family of Muncaster Castle. This was a fun discovery and found some interesting things about the family, including the legend that the castle is haunted. I intend to contact the person who linked my submissions to this line today. It's all very exciting.

I intend to use conference talks as my work companions. In the past, my work companions were my family. Although we still do dishes together, I'm on my own for the rest of it. Working alone, I've been sort of lonely, because to me work is a time for comradery, talking, joking, laughing, and so on. Now that I've discovered this new timer, I need never be lonely again. Next I'm going to make a MoTab playlist for to keep my indoor gardening from lapsing into dilly-dallying and a classical one for dailies.

Tie One On Day

I learned from Anais Dervaes over at Urban Homestead that aprons now have their own celebrated day, November 23 is"Tie One on Day." It sounds like a wonderful idea. Make something delicious, write a cheerful note, and give it to a neighbor, while wearing a cute apron. I think I'll make a pot of soup and share it with the new neighbor next door. SHHHHHHH!

Anyway....the girls at Urban Homestead are having an apron pattern give-away, which I'd love to win. Even so I'm seriously considering making a new apron, from the most darling retro apron pattern book as yet unused. True it is for children, but the size and length is right for me. They are not much different than the adult ones from the company.

I'm thinking of my dear Aunt Wilma, who baked pies for ritzy Beverly Hills restaurants. She always wore an apron, a twinkling eye, and a smile, as she worked in her kitchen. She loved her job as homemaker, as much as I do. Then there was Grandma Downen and Aunt Betty, together these three dear ladies made the yummiest plum jelly from the Santa Rosa plum trees in Aunt Betty's Pomona, CA yard. Of course they all wore aprons over their dresses. I remember, when the aunties began wearing pants but never Grandma.

Anyway, now I wear full aprons with pockets, when I do my morning chores or cook. Half aprons never work for me, because I always get the mess on top. I made a cute one to wear, while gardening or cleaning the chicken coop with brown egg and chicken wire prints. Sadly, I no longer have chickens. I made a reversible one with some pretty calico. A blogging buddy sent me a cute pink one with rick rack. My husband thinks they are all sexy. He and the boys wear full black aprons, when they work in the kitchen.

this is who I want to be

Grandma was born, when horse drawn vehicles were the norm, before cars, radio, television, airplanes, computers, air conditioning, centralized heating, indoor plumbing, or refrigerators. While my grandmother is very old, 94, and has lost her youthful beauty, she possess qualities that make her beautiful to all who know her. I asked her once why she was different and why she had so many friends and family that love her with a true love. She told me of a book she was given by her minister at age nine, In His Steps. She internalized the ideals of the book along with the Word of God as a young girl, and it shaped her life for good. My grandmother is an extension of God’s grace in my life, because she treats me and everyone with the pure love of Christ, charity. She taught me what it means to be beautiful. 1. She loves everyone unconditionally thus gaining Christ's image in her continence. 2. Grandma smiles, even through the pains of old age. 3. Grandma listens, giving advice with a twinkling eye wisely and rarely. 4. Grandma gives; she isn't interested in worldly possessions. Instead she takes her loved ones out to eat and gives them a little something in times of need. 5. Grandma is the perfect hostess. Although her home is humble, it is always filled with people who want to visit with her. Beauty from within is lasting. Thanks for letting me pay tribute to one who has taught me so much and loved me for who I am.

allow not one to escape

My dear Grandma, Wilma Weedon, Spring 2011

I've been reading a very though provoking book, Spiritual Mothering. Although the book is a bit disjointed and difficult to follow, I've gotten a few nuggets of worth. The author makes the point, 'If we need to be taught how to love our husbands and children, the two most intimate relationships, then surely we have to be taught simply to love.' Learning how to trust and love people has been the journey of my life, since cynicism,  narcissism, and anger were prevalent in my early years.

The author points out the great service of Christ, as he washed the feet of His disciples as the greatest example of love we can emulate. I would have to agree. While I can't say I was anywhere near a perfect mother or wife, I know serving with a cheerful heart allowed me to understand love. However, because I was tardy in learning to submit my speech to God and did little affirming and encouraging in the beginning, the elusive secret to love escaped me.

To encourage and affirm the good qualities of husband and children is part of the secret. To be loyal and discreet is another. Loving them in spite of their actions is, too. Because I failed time and again in the trenches of life, I have plenty of experience to back up these claims. Nevertheless, my successes at the end allow me to speak out with a qualified voice. I've been on both sides of the fence; the love side is the best side. Interestingly, it wasn't until my eyes were opened that I realized I had the greatest example of this idea in my life from the beginning, my grandma--proof that the Spirit doesn't teach in a whirlwind but with a still small voice.

Once in awhile I forget and unbridle my tongue. I might as well just call out to Satan that I'm ready for all he has to dish out. Unkind words flow like a flood if I allow one to escape. "For we ourselves also were sometimes foolish, disobedient, deceived, serving divers lusts and pleasures, living in malice and envy, hateful, and hating one another. But after that the kindness and love of God our Saviour toward man appeared...according to his mercy..." Titus 3:3-5 When I remember who I am and want to be, I am kind and feel the warmth of God for all His children.

open heart

Acts 15:36–41; 16; 17:1–15; 18:1–22

The inspired author of the book of Acts was the apostle Luke. He was the pen to Heavenly Father's words. Luke and Paul were missionary companions on some of Paul's missions through Macedonian and Greek cities, including Philippi, Thessalonica, Berea, Corinth, and Athens. The Holy Ghost directed Paul through visions of whom he should teach during the journey. Similarly, we can be guided in our efforts to serve the Lord. I've found visions are not uncommon things.

The brief story of Lydia is sweet to me. I know a young woman and am mentored by on older woman of that name. Sweetness and service seen connected with it. In Acts, Lydia heard and believed Paul’s words, because the Lord had opened her heart. An “open heart” necessary for conversion to the gospel. "And these are the words which he spake and caused to be written, saying: My brethren, all ye that have assembled yourselves together, you that can hear my words which I shall speak unto you this day; for I have not commanded you to come up hither to trifle with the words which I shall speak, but that you should hearken unto me, and open your ears that ye may hear, and your hearts that ye may understand, and your minds that the mysteries of God may be unfolded to your view." Mosiah 2:9

As a young woman of 13, I was searching for the truth and pure love of the gospel. My mother taught me from a young age that Jesus loved me, so I never doubted the existence of God. Once in a blue moon, we attended the Congregational church her grandparents founded and her father helped construct. It was quite a drive. Casual acquaintance with my Savior was not enough for me. I wanted more. When the opportunity to learn the gospel of Jesus Christ became available, I jumped at it. The Holy Ghost witnessed the truthfulness of the messages of the missionaries from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and I was baptized. My heart was open and right to accept the gospel. I'm grateful my mother prepared me to receive the gospel with a knowledge of my Savior. She taught me to pray (now I lay me down to sleep and the Lord's prayer), to sing children's songs and hymns of Jesus from her childhood, and that He exists.

Kate to Katie

Sutton Family Summer 1928 L-R Fred, Wilma (Billy), Jack, Hazel, Kate

I never met my great-grandmother, but I know her still. She was born 2 November 1894 in Mcleansboro, Ill. From all accounts she had a delightful but uneventful childhood until tragedy struck. Her older sister contracted tuberculosis. After a painful struggle, she died a terrible death at age 17. Soon after her little sister was found to have the same malady ans succumbed at age 13. Shortly thereafter, her mother too died of the horrific disease. Time passed and it seemed that Kate had escaped the malady.

She married her sweetheart, Fred, and moved to Oklahoma with their little daughter, my grandma. In Pulare, OK, they opened a general store on an oil lease. Kate was a wonderful business woman and took over the business, while grandpa taught in the town's one-room schoolhouse. She kept up her homemaking wonderfully, because the lived over the store. A series of young cousins from Illinois came out to work in the store to get their start in life and allow Kate to be both a fantastic business woman and a dedicated homemaker and church member. Her table was always bounteous, her dwelling neat as a pin, her family well clothed in garments of her making, and her pew at church warm.

Two more children came along. My grandma tells of loving her work in the store, helping Kate with her duties behind the counter and the little post office housed in the store. Kate was the post mistress of Pulare, OK. Traveling to Tulsa on buying trips, Kate went to fancy dress shops to inspect the merchandise. Later she drew the new fashions and sewed dresses for her store and family identical to the expensive ones in the Tulsa shops. This skill was passed to my grandma starting at age 5 and later on to me, as I spent many hours watching my grandmother sew.

Kate, Fred, and their children, Wilma, Hazel, and Jack, led a charmed life in OK even during the dust bowl years. They secretly added food and supplies to the parcels of California bound Okies. Their happy life changed, as Kate began to weaken. It was found that tuberculosis that had lain dormant for so many years had reared its ugly head. Because the doctor said her only chance was desert air, the family moved to Arizona.

For 6 years, Kate seemed to do better. They operated a new family business in Tucson called a tourist camp with a small general store for a time. After a year, they moved on to Phoenix and a similar venture. Kate found she was carrying a fourth child, which thrilled my youthful grandma. It was not to be. She lost the baby and became very weak. TB came back. Kate failed and died.

By this time, doctors had learned about boiling dishes and burning rags used for handkerchiefs by TB patients.  Neither my grandmother, her siblings, or my great-grandfather ever contracted TB, although they all tested positive for the pathogen.

Kate was so special to me, that I named my youngest daughter after her.