Thoughts from July 2005

Love Is Eternal   I coined this phrase as I was sleeping in last Saturday morning, but the concept started twenty-five years ago when my Dad died.  Even though my Dad was gone, I knew he still loved me and watched over me.  One might say that a way I coped with his death. But what got the concept rolling this morning was Garrett Bardsley.  He is still missing Boy Scout, hiding somewhere in Uinta's waiting for someone to discover his body.  His family has prayed and searched for him, with no luck in finding him.  Garrett is a good man.   During the winter, a school in Central or South America was built in his honor.   Garrett's family had it done either thru funds raised to help Garrett or some other means.  Maybe Mr. Bardsley funded the means himself.  The school bears Garrett's name.  I would not be surprised that Garrett watches over his family, helping them be better people, trying to tell them where he is hiding.  And maybe Garrett was helping the searchers find Brennan Hawkins.  And I bet that Garrett loves his family and friends just like they love him. And like Dad, I wouldn't be surprised there are other people who love, watch and try to communicate with their families and friends even though they have departed from this life. So love is eternal. Praying & Trusting   My thoughts from yesterday's sleep-in carried over.  It was the Bardsley vs. Hawkins debate.  Why was Brennan found when Garrett wasn't?   We really don't know why Garrett is still missing and Brennan was found alive, except that there is a reason why things turned out the way they did.  Maybe Garrett and Brennan are and were helping each other in their searches.  The Bardsleys have prayed and searched for him, with no luck in finding him; while Hawkins had the luck of having their prayers answered.   Why were the Hawkins' prayers answered and not the Bardsley's? Prayers in behalf of each boy were and are still being answered.  The Hawkins were no more righteous than the Bardsley's, nor are the Bardsley's a better family than Hawkins because of the difference of depth of the trails.  There is a reason (or reasons) why things in each case went the way they did. When Brennan was found alive, his mother exclaimed that since Brennan had been found alive that prayers were answered and that the heavens were not close.  Defense went up for those who had negative answers to prayers and what of Bardsleys, who son was still at large, probably under a foot of snow that had yet to melt.  Brennan's mother was probably expressing her gratitude and got a little too zealous in the expression.  The Lord is mindful of the Bardsley's prayers and desires of the heart.  Maybe Brennan was found alive to help the searcher to keep the faith.  It is possible to find lost loved ones alive.  Brennan can testify of his experiences while lost that aid searchers in the future for finding those who will get lost in mountains.  And hopefully, Brennan's success will help those searching for Garrett.  I can't stop to think that if Garrett had been found alive last summer, would his dad have been inspired to help rebuild a school in Garrett's honor.  One can say the Garrett's father and family have had their gold refined.  And Brennan's mom has her gold refined since he was found.  There was quite an uproar that occurred when she made her zealous comment on prayer.  The reactions probably paused to look within herself and hopefully reach out to those who aren't so lucky. It takes a lot of trust when one prays.  For Garrett, it is trusting that he will be found.  It was late in summer when he disappeared and Brennan, who was lost at the beginning of the summer.  Winter was closing in Garrett, while Brennan was dealing with the awakening of summer.  But still the Uinta Mountains are unpredictable.  Brennan was facing cold nights just Garrett. Just after Brennan was found, bad weather struck again in the Uintas.   It is trusting in the reasons why one was found alive and the other is missing.  It is accepting the bad news when our prayers aren't answer the way we wanted them to be answered.  And not be jealous when some one's prayer was answered quickly, while our prayers seem to be on hold.  It takes faith to trust in our prayers.  Our prayers are not answer in the way we feel the should.  The Lord knows what is best for each situation, who can handle what and when it can be handle.  The Lord knows our strengths and our weakness and I think that he answers our prayers according, not on our worthiness.   Read “Faith Is the Answer” by Elder David E Sorensen, April 2005 General Conference. (May 2005 Ensign or www.lds.org) 7/2012   A year or two ago, I was watching a BYU station. Garrett's dad was one of the guest for the program that aired. Garrett was still missing and as of this date has never been found. His dad spoke of the volunteer search and rescue program that he started shortly after Garrett was lost. He was grateful that this new program was in place in time for finding  Brennan. Volunteers were not allowed to search for Garrett and that had made difference in finding Brennan. I did not sense any bitterness in Garrett's dad, but gratitude that lost people in the Uintas and other wilderness areas had a better chance of being found.

A Memorable 4th of July Weekend

Ten years three of my siblings,  their families and I vacationed just outside of Florence, Oregon. Those who went had a good time. When it was time to leave on that Saturday, Vanessa commented that she didn't want to leave. I had to agree with her. It had been such a peaceful time in the campground and we had all enjoyed ourselves.  We traveled that Thursday, the 4th from Olympia and Poulsbo, Washington. (Jay and I flew into Seattle from Salt Lake earlier.) One our first activities was to check out the Oregon Sand Dunes, which had a lake (or maybe it was a large pond) that bordered the dunes. Most of the younger people could not avoid the water. Maybe it was too hot (but not as hot as Utah) or some Boice-Jacksons have a strong attraction to noticeable sizes of bodies of water. Puddles and water lapping at the river bank tempted Laura's boys even at Thanksgiving  time. After our brief activity and dinner, we went into Florence to see the fireworks. The fireworks took place on a river which emptied into the Pacific Ocean a short distance away. We had a good view of the fireworks, but without the view of the river. That was okay, it was just as good as if we seen the fireworks at Sugarhouse park. The next day was spent sand boarding and some hiking. There was a spot on top of the hills where one could see the ocean. We also had a picnic at a beach north of the campground. Some of us took a tour of the Heceta Head Lighthouse. Early Saturday morning we ate breakfast and packed up. Along the way we checked out another beach. Only Skylar, Vanessa and her cousin, Moki ventured out into the ocean. Maybe is their fathers' side of the family that causes this attraction, but I doubt it. My siblings and I would play in the ditches during the summer. We arrived back in Olympia and Poulsbo that evening and we greeted with rain the next day. Jay and I didn't mind the rain, but residents of Poulsbo were sick of it. Western Washington is known for it's year round rain festival. That late rainy Sunday afternoon we boarded our flight back to hot dry Utah. John picked us up at the airport that evening. As he was driving us home, I felt the hot breeze and I wanted to turn the car around and head back to Seattle. But I have  to admit it was good to be home.

Old Grocery list

A few months, the zipper pull on my purse broke. So when I got home that night I dug out my old cross pack that I used when I volunteered at the Salt Lake Oympics in 2002.I found this grocery list. milk 1% & whole (1/2)     2% (1/2) bread (2 loaves whole wheat) 5 lb beef minute rice 2 can cream of celery (fat free) frozen potatoes (diced hash brown) 2 cream mushroom w/ roasted garlic 2 (16 oz.) frozen vegi   tortilla chips   What was I making? I have no clue. If you have any idea what I planned to with these food items please let me. I posted this from my Google app on my iPad as a test to see if this works.

It Got Personal

When the University of Utah joined the PAC12, I discovered a new rivalry. Dana loves his University of Washington Huskies (which he lovingly calls his Dawgs) and I love my Utes. Lucky for both of us, our teams met in the first season. I sent Dana Utah paraphernalia to him and his daughters. He threatened to send me Washington paraphernalia, but I never received it. Last week (the third week of June) the Campus Store had their annual sidewalk and I bought some items on clearance. I got so caught up in the rivalry; I put sticky notes on one of my favorite picture. I don't think his daughters care one way or others about their Dad's Dawgs or their Auntie's Utes. I just have to give Dana cain. The three arrows are pointing to all his daughters, even Mo who was a year away from making her earthy debut.

My Perfect Morning

As I was walking around campus this Wednesday morning, I thought of My Perfect Morning.  It is still June and is somewhat cool in the mid morning hours.  I wrote this five years ago when another morning walk on campus during June inspired this musing.

 

My Perfect Morning

The picture I had vision in high school was a not-so-fresh cut lawn (which was already raked of excess grass clippings).  I painted the sky a pale yellow, with a hint of a pale baby blue.  The sun is no longer on the horizon, but it is somewhere in the sky where it doesn't bother my eyes. 

When I walked this past week on the University of Utah campus, I remember that painting.  (I can't remember if I actually painted it or just visualized the painting)  Except this time, I feel the freshness of the morning.  I imagine the temperature to a bit warmer, because it my vision of a perfect morning, I am wearing short sleeves and a modest pair of shorts.  I picture myself being ten or twelve years old, but this time my red hair is just past my shoulders and not just to my chin. A white stretch cotton headband is keeping my hair out of my face. I've decided this morning takes place in the early summer, probably Memorial Weekend.  I am sitting on a park bench that swings; it has a canopy that invisible to the naked eye.  The sun is allowed to shine on my back and I am allowed to see the pale yellow sky with a hint of pale baby blue color lurking behind it.  My flip-flops are discarded on grass in front of me.  And maybe I have a good book in my lap.  (To Kill A Mockingbird or A Separate Peace).  If I am drinking something, it is a glass of juice, probably a combination of grape, apple and cranberry flavors.  I am at peace and just enjoying the moment.  It is quiet and no one else is around.  If my mom is up, she is the house, doing whatever she pleases.  My dad is out in the field, working hard and soon will come in for breakfast.  So I guess my mom isn't doing what she pleases, because she probably fixing breakfast.  This moment won't last long, because soon I will be called to eat, the sun will get higher in the sky and the day will get warmer.  The freshness of the morning will disappear and cares of the world will sneak in once more.  I will remember my perfect morning as I attend to all the daily demands of an adult.

Pat on the Back

I saw this postcard or whatever you want to call on Facebook. Sad to say, I laughed. But then I got to thinking about this postcard in a different light. At the first of the month, I attended a session on change while I was at work.  It inspired my first post for May. This month brought some changes, not so much in my own life, but in others.  This postcard began to take on a different meaning. Sometimes we have to take a big pat (shove) on the back to motivate us to change because it usually isn't what we want, but something that will make us a better person. But I have to admit, I like what a 13 year old Laura said thirty something years ago, ”Sometimes it would be nice to receive blessings that aren't in disguise."

Memorial Day

Memorial Day was first observed sometime in the 19^th century as a way to honor Union soldiers who had perished in the Civil War. It eventually came to be a day of observance for all those who died serving our country; I hope that includes the Confederate soldiers who died serving a nation that was temporarily divided.  In 1971, it was moved to the last Monday in May. It was until recently I noticed that Memorial Day was for those who died serving our country or died in the line of duty.

My first impression of Memorial Day was 1^st unofficial day of summer. In Minidoka County, school got out just before Memorial Day. I really didn’t know why Memorial Day was celebrated; I just knew it was a holiday. Our family didn’t visit the cemetery in Paul or any other city in the Mini-Cassia area. Mom prepared a picnic and we ate on the front lawn as we swatted and slapped away the flies who thought the feast was for them. After a few years in Salt Lake, I would hear people talk about leaving flowers on graves of family members on Memorial Day. I think I always knew that Memorial Day was day of remembrance, because I wasn’t surprised that visiting graves was an activity for this holiday.  Somewhere in my subconscious, my mother or one of my teachers told me what Memorial Day really was.  It wasn’t the1^st Official Day of Summer Vacation and isn’t National BBQ & Picnic Day.

I can’t think of anyone in my family, including extended family members who died while serving their country. My dad served in Alaska during World War II. His name is on a monument along a highway in Conejos County in Colorado. When my dad died, my cousin, Bryant showed up in his Marine uniform. Bryant’s brother, William also served in the military.  Bryant’s daughter, Courtney is active duty somewhere in the world. Quite a few of my high school classmates have served in the military. Uncle Charley and Great-Grandma Boice were the first relatives I remember passing on. My parents didn’t go to my mom’s grandma’s funeral, but they did go to Uncle Charley. I don’t really remember much of them and I am not sure if I had met them.  We lived in Idaho and they lived in Colorado and New Mexico. Gas wasn’t cheap then either and farming left no time for vacations.

The first relative’s passing that had an affect on me was my cousin, Edward, Bryant’s older brother. For a time, Edward and Bryant’s family lived in Blackfoot and we would visit when time allowed. A few months before Edward died; he came home from Ricks College with my brother, Mike. I saw a quieter version of my cousin. He was kind and thoughtful. This was the last time I saw him. So on this Memorial Day, I remember him and yes, I miss him. Edward was a good man. Since Edward; there have been others, my dad, my mom’s parents, some uncles and aunts, even another cousin.  My mom’s siblings are still living, but my dad’s siblings are gone, except for my Aunt Wilma, who married a Jackson. Each has touched my life. Uncle Herb was kind and taught me thru his example of how thoughtful and resourceful Japanese people are. My Aunt Isabelle was charitable person.  She opened her home to my mom’s sibling when my Grandpa Boice died.  Jackson’s are just like that. I miss Paul, even though I only met him as a child. He is teaching me understanding and to be non judgmental of others now.

So this Memorial Day, I remember those who have passed on, even if they didn’t serve in the military. They deserve recognition on this day.

Skylar & Applesauce

When my nephew, Skylar was 18 months old, Jay and I spent the week in Western Washington babysitting him and his brothers, while their parents were on a cruise somewhere nice and warm.  Laura had applesauce in the cupboard, which was one of my favorite breakfast foods. One morning I was holding Skylar in my lap while I ate my breakfast. I gave a spoonful to Skylar and then I took another spoonful. I might have given Skylar a few more spoonfuls. The next morning I did the same, but I had to give more to Skylar. Apparently he was to have every other spoonful. If I took a spoonful out of turn he let me know in no uncertain terms that I was out of line. When Laura and Bill got home from their cruise, I had to them that their baby was addicted to applesauce. Never let your sister babysit your wee one for a extended time. (see earlier post - Oh Peas No)

Return to Honor

On Friday when I was helping out at the Race for the Cure, I stopped by the Merchandise Booth, since I knew I would want to do some shopping.  I noticed the “Co-survivor pin” and I thought of my niece, Tracina. If anyone deserves that pin, it is her.  When my sister, her mom, Mary got breast cancer almost seven years, Tracina was there for her. Tracina just had her second daughter, Isabella at the end of March. My niece, along with other family members, was there at the hospital when Mary had her surgery to remove the cancerous tumor. Tracina helped take care of her parents and her siblings that October.  Quite a few pictures were taken during the time, but the one that says it the most (for me) is the one where Tracina is washing her mother’s hair. Because of the surgery, my sister could not lift her arms. What a wonderful way to honor her mother; to return the kind acts of service rendered in her behalf as she grew up.