The Rescue

THE RESCUE

My mother had many little tidbits of thought that she would tell us over the years.

You could call them homilies or homespun wisdom. She said things like;

“Bloom where you are planted”

“Fool’s names and fool’s faces always appear in public places””

“You’re closer to God in a garden than any place else on earth”

And of course my favorite—Don’t cut corners on the grass, it hurts the sidewalks feelings.”

But the one that has had the most impact on my day-to-day life is “ Always leave the world better than you found it.”

Thus began my quest to rescue strange, or unwanted things to make them over, to improve them, at least to my point of view.

I remember my mother taking her sister’s dresses that they had outgrown and making them over into ones for me, just like her mother did before her . I was a very stylish if old-fashioned college student.

I use to take my daughter shopping on Saturdays for new clothes, at garage sales. The house was filled with scarred tables and bookcases taken from the curbside, quickly before the garbage man came.  The bookstore was at Amazon.com used books, Friend’s of the Library Book sales or the local Goodwill store.

            So that’s why I was wandering through our local thrift store that Saturday. I was looking for a paperback book  to add to my collection for summer reading.

"The quilt blocks sat in the bin at the Goodwill store."

I noticed them because I like quilts. I noticed them because they were unfinished.  I noticed them because they were in terrible color combinations. Who, after all would make a quilt of bubble gum pink and pineapple yellow, or cranberry and forest green. The rule of thumb,” my mother used to say,  “is not to use two intensely bright colors in the same amounts. Purple and orange are OK if you use ninety per cent purple and ten per cent orange. Even fifty per cent white or beige can tone down those two colors.

I picked up twelve of the colorful blocks, discarding the brown/cranberry and one that was badly misshapen, picked up the Jansen Decision and went home wondering what have I done, what have I done? Am I just crazy? Well, maybe I can give it away. Who would turn down a free quilt, just because it’s ugly? Patching together scraps of batting and finding a piece of teal backing left over from another quilt, I snipped and pinned, matched and re-matched, sewed and unpicked randomly. Who can I give this ugly screaming quilt to I kept asking myself.

But I, intrepid “Susie Homemaker”, master of afghans crocheted from  two hundred lengths of yarn dropped off at my back door by a neighbor cleaning out her garage; Queen of sixty ways  to use  leftovers for dinner;

And Poet Princess, using somebody else’s words for her poetry; was going to make these blocks blossom.

Now, what shall I do with my quilt?

As I look in the mirror I see a fat, lumpy, wrinkled woman looking back at me. The bags under my eyes could hold the week’s groceries. Who could ever love that woman? My husband walked up behind me, pulled me into his arms and said, “I love you so much!

I, like the Easter Egg Quilt have been rescued.

May Morning

      

      May- Warm sunny spring days

       Spring- Heat yawning through early evening

      Heat-Zig zags sharply across the night sky

       Morning-Cool rays wake flowers peaking through the shadows

      Birds-Sing quietly in the respite before

      The storm

A Light in the Dark

My friend Carol called me last week. She laundered her cell phone accidentally. She took it back to her provider to see if she could recover her phone list. I was the only one. So she called me.

Besides being a friend she is an inspiration to me. I look at all the things that have happened to her in her lifetime and marvel at her love, endurance and strong spirit. We have had a number of similar experiences to weather and it has been good to know someone who really feels what you are going through.
As I was looking through old e-mails, I found one she had written last year when her mother had died.

“I am at the airport in Seattle. (that's where)How is DAZED! My mom died Feb 12
I am a mess!I hope I will ever be the same as before. What else is there to hope for? I found this piece as I was goings through the myriad of my Mothers things”

"Learn to like what does not cost much.
Learn to like reading, conversation, and music.
Learn to like plain food, plain service, plain cooking.
Learn to like people, even though some of them may be very different from you.
Learn to keep your wants simple. Refuse to be owned and anchored by things and opinions of others.
Learn to like the sunrise and the sunset, the beating of rain on the roof and windows, and the gentle fall of snow in the winter.
Learn to like life for it's own sake."

You can’t learn to nourish your sisters until you learn to nurture yourself

Our mothers are a strong influence in our lives. Do you remember something your mother said that has influenced your future? My mother always said, "Where ever you go, leave the world better than you found it."


On Face Book someone posted this thought today
“Don’t feel bad if people remember you only when they need you.
Feel privileged that you are like a candle that comes to their mind when there is darkness.

If you only had one number. Who would you call?

"To be a righteous woman during the winding up scenes on this earth, before the second coming of our Savior, is an especially noble calling. … She has been placed here to help to enrich, to protect, and to guard the home—which is society’s basic and most noble institution."
Spencer W. Kimball

If there were only one number to call, would someone call you?

It is Isn't It?

I
Lack
A lilac!
Is it really spring?
Cherry blossoms are blowing away
Forsythia bends its blossoms in the breeze.
April showers hover--
The earth quakes in anticipation.
Birds sing their cheery song
It should be spring!
But
I
Lack
A lilac

Wendy

Memories

“So you take about forty nine cling free peaches, two and a half cups sugar, and about five cups water, unless you don’t like them quite that sweet.” She probably said more in detailing the recipe but my mind had already drifted back to a summer day and the sweet juicy goodness associated with it.

We sat on the wide porch together in the warm sunny afternoon. Bees buzzed lazily among the trumpet flowers and columbine in the front yard; the yellow and black bodies darting in colorful splashes in and out of the deep yellow and red of the flowers. In the grass the children were blowing bubbles with the large flowers, dipping them in the soapy water Judy had made.

The little girls giggled as the large light bubbles lifted above their heads. Who would ever have thought of blowing bubbles with flowers?

Looking out over the yard, I saw many small peach trees hung with the rosy golden fruit. My mouth watered thinking about the peach cobbler Mom would make from Erma’s peaches. I could hardly wait till we could go home. But that would be hours –days. We were here to visit.
In the driveway Dad, Uncle Jack and the boys were working on the car. Uncle Jack loved to work on cars and enjoyed having the boys around to share the fun. Uncle Jack was a happy man. I never saw him when he wasn’t smiling. He spent most of his life working for the poultry company. The smell alone would keep me from smiling. But then again when dinner was ready I could enjoy that crispy fried chicken as much as the rest of the family

In the living room behind us a long, low table was filled with Erma’s African Violets. I didn’t know they came in so many different colors, pinks, purples, rose, even a variegated one. The blossoms smiled shyly through the dark velvet leaves. Erma was proud of these violets. They are hard to grow—at least I’ve never been able to keep a plant alive and blooming much less a whole table full. Hanging overhead was a large Christmas cactus. Although it wasn’t blooming yet, I knew it would be filled with red flowers in time for the holidays. It always did. Mother had taken a cutting home with her once so we could have flowers during the cold winter months in the mountains.
I don’t have many memories of Uncle Jack and Aunt Erma. But I remember sitting on the porch, eating peaches and fried chicken. I remember the magic of the flower bubbles and the happy smiling family I belonged to. I took a cutting of my mother’s Christmas cactus, Erma’s cactus to continue the tradition. I hope it blooms!

Families

My friend Virginia was pleasantly surprised to open the March Ensign Magazine and find an article about her 2nd great grandmother on her father’s side, “Nancy Naomi Alexander Tracy, A Faithful Pioneer”. I go to church and enjoy the poetry of my great great grandfather Parley P. Pratt. It’s always fun to meet up with our ancestors in one-way or another.

On a recent trip to New Mexico I picked up some diaries and letters from my brother that were written by older family members. I enjoyed getting to know them better as I read their writing. I’ve been thinking about my ancestors lately. It makes me sorry that I didn’t know my parent’s siblings better. I wish I could go sit at their feet and at my grandparent’s and listen to stories of their past. This should make me want to write my history for my own children shouldn’t it? Maybe I just don’t think my life was as interesting as my ancestors was. My parent's lifetime spanned the times between horse and buggy days to rocket ships and computers; mine from typewriters to cell phones and I Pads. I wonder what kind of advances in life my children will see that I’ll miss.

My younger brother helped me get into the 1880 US Census and I was finally able to find the name of my husband’s Grandparents and a surprise the names of eleven children. I thought his grandfather was an only child. Another surprise,-- my brother wrote to a woman in California who was also looking for information about this man. We’ve been in contact and I hope to learn more about this large and so far silent part of our family. It’s exciting! In telling her about our great-great grandfather I was reminded that he and his wife made a red and white quilt for each of their grandchildren. We have one of them. It’s nice to have something tangible from an ancestor like that.

March is National Quilt Month. Have you thought of making a quilt? It is something I have enjoyed for many years. Quilting is an American art form that has enjoyed resurgence since the 1970’s. It was a necessity to our American Pioneers. Women made quilts from scraps to keep their families warm. I make them to cuddle babies and hang on walls, an art form.

Many years ago I started a cross-stitch pattern with a poem on it that I really liked. It said,

Family Quilt
Our family is like a patchwork quilt
with kindness gently sewn.
Each piece is an original
with beauty all its own.
With threads of warmth and happiness
it is tightly stitched together.
To last in love throughout the years.
Our family is forever.
-Renee Baker-

I always liked that image. Each of my family members is definitely different. How did we all come from the same parents and grandparents? And yet we all love each other and want the best for each other. We make an interesting quilt.

Do you have a family treasure?
Do you keep a journal?
Did you know that the stake Family history center has a lot of new information that can help you find your interesting family members?

It's Spring!

Where are the daffodils?
It’s spring isn’t it?
I miss their golden heads,
Their ruffled collars,
The way they stand stately,
Bending in the breeze.
Where are the daffodils?

Pansies huddle together
On the ground,
In the cold
Faces turning to smile at the sun
Stretching to catch the warmth of the sun’s returning smile
But where are the daffodils
Oh I see one.

It’s Spring!