So long Sandy

My mentor went home this week. I was assigned to Sandy Lewis when I first came to the family search zone back in October. Sandy is a remarkable lady to whom I owe so much thanks. She is from Colorado and came to the family history mission 2 years ago, shortly after the death of her husband. She doesn't look how you'd expect a family history genius to appear, but that is exactly what she is. When I came to the zone I was feeling so totally overwhelmed by my first 2 weeks of training, that I was tempted to give up and plead for a job greeting visitors to the Joseph Smith Building. There was so much information and I had forgotten most of it almost immediately. Sandy had me shadow her for a few days. I was amazed to watch her work with the patrons. She was friendly and confident. Some of the patrons were difficult, but she was unflappable. She made me a simple list of things I could do to help most of our patrons. She demonstrated the steps and demystified the process. She gave me the tools to do what needed to be done, and gave me permission to not know everything. With her encouragement I began to help patrons on my own, knowing she was nearby if I got in over my head.

Thank you Sandy Lewis for being my mentor. Thanks for sharing your sweet spirit with me and making my transition to the mission so smooth. Thanks for being my friend. I will miss you.

Wallowing in the mire

My horse is lame!

He is really a very nice horse, but he has a sore foot. How did he get lame? It seems, in my attempt to offer him the best housing, and the most freedom, I arranged for his keepers to give him daily "turn out." Turn out is time out of his little stall in a large corral where he can presumably frolic with his herd (Pancho and Norman). The problem came with the rain and slightly warmer weather that melted snow and ice in the corral and turned the lower parts into a mire of mud and manure. The higher ground is still firm and dry, but the feeder is in the lower level and it seems Haypee was happy to stand around in muck up to his ankles, waiting to be fed. The result of his behavior is that his foot was softened by the bacteria ridden moisture and a painful abscess formed. Sadly, the cure involves a considerable loss of freedom. His foot must be soaked in warm epsom salt solution every day. (Ever try to get a 1200 pound animal to put his foot into a bucket?) It also must be kept clean and relatively dry between soakings. Instead of running freely with his playmates he is now in "stall arrest." Twenty-four/seven in his boring little stall until the foot heals.

I'm pretty sure there is a lesson here.

Valentine Update

I met Jeremy Lambert this week. He is employed by a company that does electronics for the church and so is often in and out, and round about all the buildings on temple square. He was just as nice as I expected him to be. He is a young husband, and father of four little boys. He has close relatives who have experienced extraordinary challenges, which I believe has contributed to his sensitive nature. I was able to tell him how much his generous gift touched me and he told me a little of how it came to be. His wife asked him why on earth he was so obsessed with giving this picture to someone who he had never met. All he could say was that he felt as if someone unseen was pushing him until it was done and delivered. I told him that I know someone who could be pretty pushy who might be responsible. A big thanks to the pusher, and the pushee who was sensitive enough to follow through, and make this little miracle happen.

My Valentine

Friday evening Mom and I attended a concert of Synthesis, the BYU jazz ensemble. Very Fun. But during intermission one of my zone leaders approached me to tell me that a young man had been looking for me at the library after I left that day, and had left a letter and a valentine for me. I assumed it was a relative, but was told this was someone who didn't know me but had something special to give me. Now I was intrigued. I went by the library to pick up my valentine. I was a large, flat box, with the following letter attached:

Dear Sister,

Yesterday I happened onto a beautiful winter scene and quickly retrieved a camera so I never would forget it.

On the 4th picture I realized I had not noticed that a pedestrian was walking through the scene and I had caught him in the picture.

You and I both will have the same thought "how did I miss that!" I'm not sure either, but to a fellow who truly has no photography skills I found it added greatly to the scene.

After a small search, and prompting from the spirit, I learned who the individual was and a bit of his history. Hence a Valentine from someone you have never met.

Hope you like it.

Jeremy Lambert

Inside the box was a large (16"x20") matted and framed photograph of the Salt Lake Temple with a lone pedestrian, my son David, under his red umbrella walking to work.

This little reproduction really doesn't do the photograph justice. I don't know Jeremy Lambert, and my cursory attempts to locate him have not been successful, but I hope to meet him and let him know how touched I am by his thoughtful gift, and that it will undoubtably be my favorite keepsake of our mission experience.

Comfort and Joy (part 2)

Rereading my last post was a little depressing. Lest I give you the impressing that it am comfortless in this cold world, I shall make an incomplete list of non-spousal comforts and joyful things in my life. In no particular order:

This is my son David. He is my missionary companion, my roommate, my comfort and my joy. David has a unique view of the world which almost always makes me smile. Here he is working in the family history library, shelving books. David wakes up each morning excited about a day of work. He greets everyone in the prayer meeting with a hug or handshake and a smile. When I pick him up at the end of our shift and ask him how was work, he responds, "Great!" David is a great Spirit, and I am in awe that he is my son.

Ok, this is a little obvious. It is a comforter. Made by hand by my sister and given to me for Christmas. The beautiful patchwork pattern on this quilt is made up of "horsey" fabrics. It is giant, big enough to share with David, and keeps me toasty warm, body and soul.

This is my granddaughter Daphne who visited me with her dad this weekend. I have 11 other grandchildren, just as adorable, whose dear parents keep me close to them with visits, phone calls, e-mails, videos, pictures and iChats. There is nothing in this world that fills me with joy like any one of those cute kids.


This is my cat Amaranthe curled up with me in bed. Some of you may remember her as a stray I rescued a couple of winters ago. She was living out in the cold, eating birds and drinking any unfrozen water she could find. She weighed almost nothing, but responded well to food and vet care. She has turned into a nice fuzzy companion. I often wake up in the morning with her curled up on my back, keeping me warm.

This is a car. I was actually without a car for a couple of months until my son Christian loaned me this one. Now, it's a pretty hot little car, totally inappropriate for an old lady missionary to drive, but I am soooo glad I have it. I get a few odd looks, and take some good natured ribbing from some of the missionaries who've seen me driving it, but they don't know the secret joy hiding inside this sleek little roadster: HEATED SEATS. Yes, push a button, the seats heat up and I'm riding to work enveloped in blissful warmth. We leave for work in the dark, usually in sub-freezing temperatures, so heated seats are a comfort!

Well, the list is endless, and you have better things to do, but you get the idea. I'm doing fine.

My husbandless state is temporary, but I'm not left comfortless.