From Nephi

We have been feeling the effects of the change in missionary age at the temple. Each of the two days that we serve, there are several young women who are turning 19 and are now entering the mission field and who have come to the temple to receive their endowments prior to entering the mission training center(s) of the church. There are also a great many young Elders who are ready to accept the call for the 18-year old men to become missionaries. We have been delighted at the great numbers of young people we see who are worthy to be missionaries. It is great to know that we have such wonderful young people in our family. 

My service as a temple sift assistant coordinator is now over. My two years are up and we were replaced this past Friday. It was strange knowing that every leadership service was the last time that we would be doing that work. It was also a bit sad since the five of us have worked so closely together and have formed a close friendship as a result. However, we no longer have the responsibility of making certain that things for our shift run smoothly. Now the new group gets to do that. 

We have been teaching the temple preparation class in our ward. We are teaching a young couple and one missionary-to-be in our ward. It is a great experience to share this special time with those who are preparing to attend the temple.

We had another missionary farewell, although we do not call it that anymore, yesterday. This young man is going to Peru and will go to the missionary training center for those Spanish speakers. He has been taking Spanish for some time now and chose to bear his testimony in Spanish. He certainly had a lot of people there to hear him. The chapel and the recreation center was filled. In fact, the recreation center was filled clear back to the stage. Mary Horrocks, Julie's good friend, spoke about her son, Ben, who is serving in Italy. 

We now have eight missionaries who are currently serving from our ward. Three more have recently returned home.

We also had a convert baptism in our ward and he was asked to bear his testimony as part of the meeting. We have a young man in our ward, Clifton Taylor, who is affiliated with the American Red Cross. He has been trying to leave for a mission but has been having a difficult time getting his health to the point where that can happen. He has really low iron and cannot seem to build his levels up. He went back to help at one of the disaster areas and, while there, met this young man. The missionary-to-be (Clifton Taylor), was asked by his parents to leave his home here in Nephi when he decided that he wanted to be active in the church. He moved in with Russ and Colleen Bender, at their invitation, and he called and asked if this young (32-year-old) man could come and stay with them also. They were happy to have him and he requested the missionary discussions while at the Bender's home. He was baptized on Saturday. He said that he had attended church with Clifton while he was working with him in Oklahoma and had felt that he found the spirit that he had been searching for. He wanted to know more and was now certain that he was in the "true church."

We are having weird weather here in Nephi. Last night, a huge wind and hail storm was forecast for our area. We were listening to the radio and heard a storm warning come over the line. It reported high winds and hail would move into our area. We sort of battened down the hatches, so to speak. When it came, the winds were not as high as predicted and there was no hail. There was a lot of lightening and thunder and a deluge of rain but it was only 15-minutes or so in duration. That was a relief. Hail at this time of year can wreak a garden and ours is doing really well at this point. The corn, to quote the song, "is as high as an elephant's eye." Maybe ours is higher than that. A couple of years ago, a high wind blew limbs off of our fruit trees and split one of the big branches. Luckily, that did not happen this time.

Michael's great-grandmother, Maxine Gordon, was at the Manti Temple on Saturday and I had the good fortune to be able to spend a few minutes with her. She is an elect lady. We were able to see each other a couple of times and give hugs and exchange "I love you" words. It was great. I do get to see so many people there. I met a "cousin" of sorts also on Saturday. He was a descendent of Judge Ferdinand Ericksen. One delight for me is working with one of my bridesmaids from way back when. Gerri Page was the former Gerri Shield of Price. She still lives in Price and now is one of the assistant matrons.

Gramps and I are so proud of the work you are doing in the mission field. It makes our hearts happy and strengthens our testimonies each week when we read your letters. We pray for you several times each day and want you to know that we love you. You are great! Thanks for serving our Father in Heaven, His son, Jesus Christ, and your fellow men.

The missionary yesterday told the story of a young man who had a dream that he would go into the world and find his pre-earth life friend who had not been sent to as great a place as he had been sent. He later wrote his bishop that he had found his friend. I know that you are also finding yours.

Love, Grammy and Gramps

I changed the letter for Michael to read: 

We saw your great-grandmother, Maxine Gordon, who was at the Manti Temple on Saturday and I had the good fortune to be able to spend a few minutes with her. She is an elect lady. We were able to see each other a couple of times and give hugs and exchange "I love you" words. It was great. 

Myrna's 1981 Journal, Page 2

The honest truth of the matter is that I'm converted to everybody else keeping a journal but maybe I don't really want to keep one myself. The clincher is always the idea that your progeny will know what you are really like but, to be honest, I don't want my progeny to know what I'm really like. In fact, the less they know what I am really like, the happier I'll be.

I'm a person who holds resentments and keeps lists inside my mind. I continually work to not be like that. That holding on to things can't be something you want others to emulate. I have a struggle trying to love others (this does not include my children whom I always love) and I have a struggle trying to forgive. That includes forgiving myself. I sometimes wonder if it's possible to "love everyone." I wonder if it is possible to forgive and "remember it no more."

At this stage in my life, I'm not even sure what I want or who I want to be and I'm 41. My life is nearly half over by regular standards and I don't even know what I want to do with what is left.

Many days, I have to work on being forgiving. People can say the meanest things. Some of them mean to be hurtful and others do not mean to be they just, I suppose like me, make comments without thinking.

My life is just a work in progress. I am, eventually, and who knows when, going to have to die and meet my Savior. I think I would rather not be so mortal and so much the "natural man" and would much rather be more Christlike, more like the Master. I really don't want my unrepented sins to be broadcast from the rooftops for all to know.

December 26, 1981

The following is retyped from my poorly kept journal.

I have just finished reading, "President Kimball Speaks Out on Personal Journals," printed in the December 1980 "Ensign." I also read: "Will I Ever Forget This Day, Excerpts from the Diaries of Carol Lynn Pearson," editied by Elouise M. Bell.

I don't beleive it would be possible to read either the book or the article without deciding to keep a journal. So, once again, I am making a beginning.

Tomorrow I teach the lesson in Relief Society. I don't feel up to my usual pizazz. It is 3 a.m. and I am very tired and humble and worried. I need another four hours to be ready and I don't have them. The newspaper stacks were just left outside and snow is blowing against the windows. It will be cold tomorrow--or today--and I am weary.

Goodnight!

Wow! (My letter to my missionaries.)

I am sending the same letter to both of you this week. I am hoping that you were all part of the the church's largest missionary training conference. I imagined both of you sitting there, in a gathering in your particular mission, and learning from the experience. I saw your beloved faces, in mind's eye.

I did not even recognize the Marriott Center at BYU with all of the missionaries in attendance there. I was so impressed with the conference. In our stake, all members ages 18 and older were invited. A few parents brought youth approaching that age with them. There were not as many in attendance at our location as I would have hoped. I think there were something like 220 present. We were counted, as were the members of ward and stake councils present, so the number could be reported to Salt Lake.

“To all the full-time missionaries sharing in this broadcast around the world, we say never again in your entire life are you going to be part of a zone conference this large!” said Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum the Twelve as he conducted the meeting. “To the many members of the church gathered in innumerable locations, we affirm that ward and stake councils can no longer say of this great army of missionaries, ‘There they go.’ No, the hour is upon us in which we must now say, ‘Here they come.’ All of us must plan for and use this heaven-sent resource in the most productive way possible.”

Of course, in my "Tears At All Times and in All Places" stage of life, I did shed quite a few. I now know why my grandmother always told me that a lady carried a cloth handkerchief. I borrowed LHT's hanky. I need to invest in some of my own--cloth ones--so that I will be prepared for the floods of my own making.

LHT said that when he went into the mission field there were approximately 5,000 missionaries world-wide. Now there are 70,174.

Our ward met for Sacrament meeting only so that we would be out in plenty of time to get to the stake center. We are the late session and we do not end until the 4 p.m. hour. LHT and I had the distinction, at 3:15 p.m., of being the first in attendance. We certainly had our pick of seats.

LHT (Gramps/Dad) and I have been wondering about our neighborhood. Perhaps we can be of service among our neighbors. The older homes around us are being purchased by good young people but none of them are active. Some of them are, likely, not members. It does take courage to invite. The fellowship part is the easy part. It has always been easy for us to be good neighbors. That is particularly true of LHT who, at the drop of a hat, is off to shovel snow, lend himself and his tools, and be of general good service.

I cried when the missionaries sang. How powerful that was and how it made me think of the two missionary grandsons I have serving and of another about to serve. My little mission of working to provide Sacrament services for the assisted living center seemed so small in comparison with what our missionaries are doing in the field. LHT does most of the organizing and I do most of the "just showing up to love." I offer a lot of prayers, closing or opening, as needed. And I cry. As we receive the weekly letters, our testimonies are strengthened. How blessed we are, as a family, by the missionary service of our stalwart two.

I also was touched by the segment dealing with teaching and the one on repentance. I learned from them answers I had been seeking.

The story of Sister Neill F. Marriott, who, at the age of 22, was converted and baptized into the Church in Cambridge, Massachusetts, USA, was toucing. One year later she married David C. Marriott in the Salt Lake Temple, one of those who helped introduce her to the church. They are the parents of 11 children.

We love you. We are proud of your work. We are touched by your testimonies. How thankful we are that you are part of our family.

Some Random Memories

We didn't have a freezer when I was young. We had a tiny little box at the top of our fridge that was just big enough for a coupe of ice cube trays and we thought it was great. Sometimes you could even store a bit of ice cream in the little cubicle. If it was left too long, the container filled with ice crystals and became dreadful tasting. It was better, however, than the fridge that I remember from my three-year old life. That was a literal ice box. It had a chamber for keeping things cold and another for the ice. A man would come every few days and sell us some dry ice to put in the top of the box which kept things cold for a bit. That was during Word War II. 

My grandmother would be at school teaching and I would be home at the apartment we shared with my beloved Aunt Renee and Uncle Max. The ice man would come and I would be fascinated by the whole procedure. He would carry the ice into the house with a pair of large ice tongs. Aunt Renee said that if he touched the dry ice it would be so cold that it would burn his hands.

I also remember that we walked a lot. We walked to the small grocery to get needed items. There was a little corner grocery and we would just ask for what we wanted. The grocer would fill the order by giving you the item you wanted. Forget asking for a brand at that small store. You got what he had. Of course, we shopped once a week at the larger grocery store where you went around with a cart and picked out what you wanted. At the corner grocery, a child could be sent with a few dollars and come home with the item in a brown paper bag and some change. When I was tiny, of course, I just went with an adult. When I got older I was allowed to walk there and back. Usually, I was allowed a few pennies for a treat because I had run the errand. You know, had I kept walking everywhere, like I did back then, I would be in a lot better shape than I am. Now I have taken up daily walking for my health. Then I just did it because everyone else did. :)

When we moved to Carbon Avenue, there was Mabbitt's Market just a block away. When my cousins and I would be sent there for a can of tuna, for example, we were given a nickel to buy a treat. I liked to use it all on a Three Musketeers Bar because he actually had three chocolate sections and we could each have one. However, we usually got something else like all-day suckers. Sometimes we would buy popsicles which we all liked but which made a mess of the fronts of our outfits before we got the block back home.

I refuse to correct letters to the editor.

I really hate to disappoint you but I have been thinking over what you asked me to do. I appreciate that all writers like to get feedback from other writers. I do not think that I am the person to help you, however. I am really leery of reading and helping with letters-to-the editor.

 

I had a person, whom I thought of as a friendly school-mate of a couple of my children, who made all sorts of trouble for me a year ago. He brought a letter to me to have me correct (grammar and punctuation). I had him sign the copy I then printed off for him signifying that it was his work and not mine. I dated the copy and he turned it in to the newspaper. It was printed in our local paper. He was taken to court for what the authorities thought was the threatening nature of the letter. I was called to court, under oath, to bear witness as to what had happened with that letter. He tried to claim that I had changed the letter after it was printed. I had not, could not and would not. Luckily the jury considered my long newsprint reputation. He was found guilty and served jail time. I became a lot more concerned about what I help others with. The disclaimer that is printed on every opinion page was saving for the newspaper but Allan and I determined that we would not be so helpful in the future. At our local newspaper, we are mostly interested in local issues and are not interested in national issues or topics that the state papers cover.

There are many others in the community who would be willing to assist you with your need for a good critic.  Snow College has many classes of many types that are taught in Nephi via interactive computer instruction at the Juab School District office. Of course, for those there is a fee.

In Provo, there are writer's groups that you could join. I belonged to one such group for awhile and a chapter was even started here. We Juab County members all became too busy and closed the local chapter.

I hope that you understand. 

More from Myrna's Soapbox

To Barbara: The grandchildren we share are confused about the Latter-day Saint church because they get conflicting information. They hear little about the church that is really true. They do not attend meetings, except once a year with us, where they have an opportunity to hear what we really do believe. At Scouts, they do not talk about the gospel. They talk about scouting. The same happens at the week day meetings of Young Women. Sunday meetings are the only ones where they really talk about beliefs. Erin said that at Sunday School with the youth, she has no idea what they are talking about. Why would she? She hears one idea from you, another from her parents and another from us. She is not mature enough  to study on her own and really learn doctrine. We don't spend hours of time studying while they are here. We go places and visit family so that they will know who their cousins and aunts and uncles who live near are. Besides, we learn precept upon precept, here a little and there a little. It takes a lifetime of devotion to know truth of any kind.

Erin talked about Mountain Meadows Massacre with Julie and I was on the edge of the discussion. The only one of us who knew about it, really, was Leonard because he taught about it in Utah History. I told her to talk to him. Jim gave her good advice. He told her that she, if she REALLY wanted to know, should read about it on her own. He told her to go to the source nearest the actual happening. Historians can be biased but the people who lived the happening can best understand it. Our ancestor opposed the killings. He tried to get help to prevent them. He testified against the perpetrators. Those writings are available.

Grandpa Ray, the storekeeper

Did you know that my (Myrna's) Grandpa Ray Smith was the bookkeeper and the storekeeper at a CCC camp. That happened years after the Mexican/American War. In fact, that was after he had owned his own butcher shop in Huntington. He became ill, they later discovered that he had terminal lung cancer, and decided that he would train as a bookkeeper. He stayed with Fred and Pearle Smith, his brother and sister-in-law, in Springville, for a time and went to school. When he finished, he went to work as the bookkeeper at a CCC camp. He could add, so I was told, a long list of figures by moving his finger down the line arriving at the total, in his mind, when he reached the bottom of the line. He would then move up the line in the same way, checking his accuracy of the first time. He figures always resulted in the same total. 

Response

From: Barbara Anderson
RE: Gramps and His Owie

I am so sorry Myrna.  I hardly ever check my email.  I didn't even know to ask to find out how he was today.  I want you to know the kids love you guys very much.  They are a little confused about church, but David, Bree and I will support them in whatever they decide.  We are not actively discouraging them.  I really want you to know that.  I am honest with Erin about how I feel, but now in what I want her to do. 

I also want you to know I consider you my friend.  Im not much of a friend.  My life keeps me in a dither, but I feel like things have calmed down this last couple of years.  I was not taught how to be a friend.  I isolate very well. 

But, we love you.  I love you.  You are one of the best people I have ever met.  If you need anything, and this is from the bottom of my heart, just let me know.  I have a car now.  Until I go back to work, Im pretty much open.  Im only going to work 25-30 hours per week. 

So, let me know, or just get in touch. 

Barbara

 

I really didn't expect any kind of answer to the information about LHT's injury. It is healing well, from what I can tell from the outside. There is no pain. I think that is a good sign. We are to leave it alone for the full 10 days and then the doctor will look at it again.

I think of you as a friend also. We both want the best for the grandchildren we share in common. What wonderful children they are. 

I am not trying to be humble when I say this. It comes across that way but it is not meant that way. I do not think of myself as a good person. I think of myself as someone who is trying to improve each day. As I told them in Relief Society on Sunday, where Erin was with me, that I keep working on me. I keep trying not to be selfish and not to lose my temper. I work on being a better person every day. Sometimes I do well and sometimes I fail. The lesson was on turning our shortcomings (or failures) into successes.

Erin decided to go to Relief Society with me. It was her choice because when I found out that she did not want to be with the Young Women in our ward I tearfully offered to go home with her but she said she likes the older women in our ward because they "are kind" and treat her as one of them. 

Unfortunately, I have turned into a person who can shed tears at the drop of a handkerchief and I don't know what to do about it. My goodness, I am going to cry the rest of my life away. I wear my heart on my sleeve all of the time. I told Melanie that I thought it might be due to diabetes and she just laughed. She said that I had always been tearful. She reminded me that I cry during sad television commercials.

I worry about every grandchild of mine. I like them to be at church because, USUALLY, not always, there are good friends there. I like Girl's Camp because I loved it. I was (feel free to giggle) very shy as a girl but I liked being with people who were honest and upright and could still have a good time. Oh, the crafts I made. I believe in Boy Scouts. I think a young man who attains the rank of Eagle, has really done something to be proud of for his entire life. Leonard is not an Eagle. He is Wood Badge trained--a national training for leaders.

I am also frank about my feelings. If you ask me a question, I will not tell you what I think you want to hear. I will tell you what I really think, what I really believe. 

I have a couple of grandchildren who have decided, using their free-agency, to not follow in line with what I would, given the same choice, have selected. They are all still loved. I am in all of this for the long haul. I want my family to be happy. I want them to live as honest, loving people who enrich the lives of those around them. I like the church (an organization of people), aside from the gospel (the doctrine). Our ward, for example, is filled with loving and compassionate people who do their best to serve others and to make certain that there are no hungry and uncared for among us. The women I work with have watched me cry and are still understanding. You, of course, are that kind of person also. Scratch you and you also bleed. We are not so different after all.

My girls and I all tend to spend more time with family and less time on socializing. That may make us more difficult to know. I sense you feel that way about yourself. I include you as family and I truly do love you. You are always welcome in my life.

Leonard has a more compassionate heart than I do. He always thinks of the nice thing to do. Sometimes you actually have to remind me to be thoughtful. You have no idea how many snowy walks he shovels each winter. He is old enough that someone should be shoveling his. :) 

From Gordon

Hi Myrna,

I was reading your email about eating Jell-O powder.  We did that as children.  It brings back fond memories.  It tasted good!

One part of your email where you described eating permanent wave powder reminded me of a story I read.  A quote from your story is below, and my story is below that.

“After we consumed the Jell-O, we all found out that what we had really eaten was permanent wave powder. My goodness! We all had excited adults at that point.”

The story tells of a man and his wife on a trip.  They accidently hit a rabbit while driving.  They stopped to see if the rabbit was ok.  The rabbit appeared dead.  Just then a lady stopped to see if they needed help.  When they explained what had happened, the lady went to her car and came back with a package.  She opened it and placed some of the contents on the rabbit.  The rabbit jumped up and hopped toward the woods.  After a few feet it turned around and waved at them.  It  would then hop a few feet and turn to  wave again.  It did this all the way to the woods.  They asked the lady what she had used to heal the rabbit.  She handed them the package.  On the package was written, “New shampoo formula.  This new shampoo will bring life back to any hair, and your hair will have a permanent wave.”

Oh well, you and Leonard needed something to laugh about after his “Humpty Dumpty” experience.

Lots of love,

Gordon