Protection

"No mother would carelessly send her little children forth to school on a wintry morning without warm clothes to protect against the snow and rain and cold. But, there are numerous fathers and mothers who send their children to school without the protective covering available to them through prayer-a protection against exposure to unknown hazards, evil people and base temptations." -Spencer W. Kimball

Freshman Year

My niece started BYU this week, causing me to reflect on my own college experience. I started out at BYU about 2 weeks after High School graduation. I was 17 1/2 years old. My mom after a very long and tearful goodbye, left me in my dorm room all alone. My never met nor seen nor spoken to before roommate had not yet checked in. I was alone. I was lonely. The tears and anguish seemed never ending. I had felt the like only world I had known been ripped from me. I did the only thing I knew how to do when I was sad. I got on my knees and prayed to Heavenly Father. After a few minutes of pleading to be rescued from my sorrow, I felt a warm arm drape across my shoulders. I heard a male voice say, "I will be your friend. I will be with you always." This voice was so audible and the warmth across my shoulders was so tangible that I opened my eyes and peeked to see who had come into my room. No one was there. But I was comforted. Those words, "I will be your friend. I will be with you always." have given me support numerous times since then.

EFY-A couple hudred dollars... Air fare-another 100...

to hear this..priceless.

Chad: Mom, I joined the choir at EFY.
Me: How was it?
Chad: It was really good...but I couldn't sing the last song.
Me: Why?
Chad: I was crying.
Me: Yeah. I know how that is. What song was it?
Chad: "I feel my Savior's Love" (tears start welling in both of our eyes) and Mom I just know that it's true. Jesus Christ does love us. He loves us so much. No matter who we are or how many sins we have...he just loves us.

Fishes and Loaves

Years ago I signed up the have the missionaries over for dinner. Money was tight and I only had one pound of ground beef and decided to make enchiladas. As I made these enchiladas I think that I must have been crying inside, knowing that this was all the food we had until payday-which was about 3 days away. I wondered if I was doing the right thing...feeding these missionaries instead of my children. I continued making enchiladas. Rolling the meat into the tortillas and sprinkling with cheese. I made 1 pan...then 2 pans...then a third pan. I couldn't believe how many enchiladas I made with just one pound of ground beef. After the missionaries ate I think I had 3 pans of enchiladas still left. It was a miracle---not unlike the miracle that occured around 2000 years ago. God does live. He still is a maker of miracles.

Seventeen years ago today...

Making the decision
to have a child -
It's momentous.

It is to decide forever
to have your heart
walking around
outside your body.

-Elizabeth Stone

Heard in a testimony

"I know Heavenly Father answers my prayers because I ask Heavenly Father to help make the flowers more beautiful...and just look at them." - Morgan, age 5

Daddy, Fix It

My husband's father passed away yesterday morning at the age of 87. He was a man who could fix anything.

"Fix it, Daddy," she lisps at two, showing the god in her life her scraped knee.

"Fix it, Daddy," she says at four, tearfully producing her broken balloon purchased from the vendor at the parade.

"Fix it, Daddy, " she says at six, struggling with her jacket zipper on her rush out the door to school.

"Fix it, Daddy," she says at eight, confidently wheeling her dented and lop-sided bike toward him as he gets out of hiw car after work.

"Fix it, Daddy," she intones righteously at ten after coming out a loser in a knock-down drag-out battle with her stupid, tyrannical, and absolutely impossible brother.

"Fix it, Daddy," she pleads at twelve in the first of many struggles with her mother over whether she is old enough to wear eye shadow.

"Fix it, Daddy," she sobs at fourteen, when her image hits rock bottom because she didn't make the cheerleading squad.

"Fix it, Daddy," she asks at sixteen, exposing her first broken heart over a lost love.

"Fix it, Dad," she says at eighteen when the college she wants doesn't want her.

"Fix it, Dad," she implores at twenty-two, sending along her mangled checkbook stubs and a 1040 form.

"Fix it, Dad," she begs at twenty-four, when she witnesses a rare conflict between him and her mother.

"Fix it, Dad," she writes at twenty-six, explaining that she wants a quiet wedding officiated by a priest and a rabbi.

"Fix it, Dad," she prays at thirty, when her baby is in the hospital and her husband is overseas.

"Fix it, Grandpa," she insists at 40 when she turns her contrary twelve year old over to him for the weekend.

"Fix it, Dad," she begs at forty-five when he tells her his heart is faltering and needs repair.

"Fix it Father," she prays at fifty-five as she kneels at her dad's funeral, praying that he will find peace and realizing that from now on he will be fixing things for her in a way he never could before. -Delores Curren

Thank you Pat for all you have done!