Just because…
She is so darn cute!
Hopeful Homemaker
One Step Report #29
We just wrapped up a beautiful evening. The sunset was golden as we stood outside and chatted with neighbors while the children played and enjoyed being alive as dusk turned to dark. We’re so blessed to live in a beautiful place and to be surrounded by fantastic people.
This week’s report: 80 steps. It was a hard week but a good week.
Highlights:
1. This week offered some unexpected opportunities to visit with good friends. On Wednesday night I got together with three other old friends (from back when our oldest children were babies) and we had a great time talking. It was good to fit it in before one of them moves to New Mexico. (We’ll miss you, Janelle! And Andrea, we really missed having you there!)
2. My oldest son spent the week at Scout Camp. While he was gone I tore his room apart, organized and cleaned things, did his laundry, and hung a few pictures on the wall. It was nice to welcome him home to a clean, comfortable room. Actually it was just nice to welcome him home. We really missed him. He came home bigger, stronger, tan, hair sun-bleached, more confident, happy. And yes, he came home taller than me. We measured today.
3. I spent much of the week caring for a daughter with a fever. On the worst day, she spiked a fever of 106 degrees. Yes, you read that right. Scary. We’ve had some high fevers around here, but none that high. Gratefully, we rushed her to the bath and were able to lower it fairly quickly. She had a tough week but seems to be doing well.
4. My oldest son loves cookie dough. Yesterday I made a batch of cookie dough minus the eggs (yogurt instead). I rolled it into balls and froze them. As he put one in his mouth, he said, “THIS is why I came home.” Spoken like a true teenager. It’s been funny to watch him raid the freezer. He’s nearly finished them off.
5. This week we also tore apart the other boys bedroom. We cleaned, picked up every little Playmobil piece under beds, moved the furniture around, hung a new picture and it looks like a new room. It was fun to have the children get so excited and help out.
6. This one is going to be long, but I promise it will make you laugh. We survived Church. Some days that is a bigger victory than others. In sacrament meeting alone we experienced the following:
-baby threw pacifier twice, sending it rolling across the room -baby, who can now walk, wants nothing more than to leave our pew and walk around in the aisle -5 year old asks to wear Mom’s ring, then gives it to the two year old who throws it on the ground, sending it rolling under the bench two rows back.
-5 year old whines, saying “I want to go get it” at least 50 times, but Mom won’t let her go get it because it would be disruptive, so several kids keep climbing down on the floor to check on it, which is just a different version of being disruptive.
-by the end of the meeting the ring has disappeared. We never found it. That’s the last time the girls are playing with my jewelry in church!
-4 year old was crying for no reason other than being at church before the meeting even started -2 year old opened the hymnal and started singing to herself. Borderline activity, but innocent and quiet enough that I just had to remind her to whisper. Suddenly she climbed off my lap and lay on the floor with the book, and began singing “Tomorrow” from the movie Annie in the middle of someone’s talk. She wasn’t whispering.
Funny that I thought today would be a great day at church since the children were all rested, had eaten a big meal right before we left, and we’d arrived early. Oh well. (I guess we’ll wait and see if the families who sat near us are back next week or not. Hopefully we didn’t drive them away!)
7. The real highlight from Church was hearing our 13 year old son speak about his experiences at camp. He had everyone laughing, but drew some parallels to gospel principles. He did a good job. I love that kid.
8. Combined some recipes to make a new dessert tonight. We all enjoyed it and had enough to share with the neighbors. I’ll share the recipe soon. Here’s a look at it, glistening in the evening sun as we headed next door. YUM!
9. Lastly, I experienced a personal disappointment this week that was very discouraging, but I think I’ve made it out on top. Kind of like the song by Blue October, “Jump Rope”. UP, down, UP, down… life’s like a jump rope!
It’s hard to believe that this is the last week of July. Let’s make it count! Good luck!
Jennifer
Faith in Every Footstep
July 24th is Pioneer Day in Utah, a celebration of the arrival of the Mormon pioneers in the Great Salt Lake valley.
Some of my ancestors crossed the plains, and I’ve been thinking about them this week, thinking about their journey and the highs and lows they experienced.
Take, for instance, Henry and Mary Grow, who with their three children arrived in Nauvoo Illinois on May 15, 1843, one year after being baptized members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Henry was a builder, and built them a home. He worked on the Nauvoo Temple until its completion. Mary had another baby, making four children.
Henry and Mary lived in Nauvoo when the Prophet Joseph and his brother were martyred. They experienced the bitter anti-mormon hatred that was rampant at the time.
On September 19, 1846 a mob force of over two thousand men advanced upon Nauvoo. With 13 cannon in tow, they camped a mere 220 yards from the Grow’s home. As Henry lay in bed that night, he heard a distinct voice say to him, “Get up and get out of here in the morning.”
The next morning Henry awoke, hitched a yoke of cattle to his wagon, put in utensils, bedding and a tent, and got his wife and four children in the wagon. They left everything else behind. When they had traveled only 50 yards the mob fired a twelve pound cannonball through their home.
Every time I think of this, I pause and wonder what that felt like. Surely there was relief at having escaped without injury, concern about what would happen next, worry for the safety of their children. It seems to me that there would also have to be a gut-wrenching sadness at watching your home be destroyed. I have wondered many times what kind of silent thoughts and feelings filled Mary after the sound of that blast.
They carried on, eventually traveling to the Salt Lake Valley in 1851, arriving on Henry’s 34th birthday. Mary crossed the plains while pregnant with her sixth child. They arrived in the valley and, like everyone else, started over again.
I think of these things and marvel at all they lost, all they endured, and all they gained. God was good to them. They ended up with 7 children. They built a good life for themselves in the Utah territory. Henry became the architect of the historic Tabernacle on Temple Square.
In 1997 a hymn was written to commemorate the 150th anniversary of the arrival of the pioneers in the valley. It was titled Faith in Every Footstep.
I’ve been thinking about that phrase this week, “faith in every footstep.” I’ve been thinking about the footsteps of Henry and Mary Grow. Certainly it was their faith that gave them courage to leave home, to strike out on the plains for a faraway place, to rebuild. But what does “faith in every footstep” mean? Does it mean that an equal, steady amount of faith was meted out for every single step? Or were there days then the fire of vision and testimony was so great that it hardly seemed like work to walk, followed sometimes by days when dust and exhaustion obscured the vision and the footsteps were taken because well, what else was there to do? If some days were full of energy, were there others that were hard? Did they ever need to remind themselves why they were doing it?
My life has days of vision and purpose, and days where the dust of everyday life obscures my sight. Some days are filled with faith while others seem full of short-sighted mistakes and self doubt. Sometimes I plod on, not because I have a good perspective or much hope, but because I don’t know what else to do. When the dust settles, I can see clearly to fix what needs fixing and correct my course. My footsteps are stronger and on the next windy day I’m able to walk a little farther into the dust before it gets to me.
If I could ask Mary one thing today, I would ask her to describe for me the ups and downs of her footsteps and the faith that fueled them. If there were days that were hard, I do know this: that the sum of all her days, of all her footsteps was sufficient. Five generations later, I sit at the end of a difficult day and find strength in her faith. Five generations later, her faith inspires my footsteps.
And so, if yesterday’s faith was insufficient, today’s can be greater. And I can pray and have faith that the sum of my footsteps will somehow be enough to complete my journey and inspire the footsteps of another generation.
I do not want to let her down.
Jennifer