...(sigh) and I am totally awake (deep, tired sigh). What's up with my body. I feel so weird....and what do I do when I feel weird...or happy...or anxious...or sad...or ornery...or blessed...or just feel like it?????
...I blog, therefore...I am...
I am a blogger.
...and...
I found this quote...
....from Jeffrey Holland, a man I love and admire.
Brother Holland said the following:
If in matters of faith and belief children are at risk of being swept downstream by this intellectual current or that cultural rapid, we as their parents must be more certain than ever to hold to anchored, unmistakable moorings clearly recognizable to those of our own household. It won't help anyone if we go over the edge with them, explaining through the roar of the falls all the way down that we really did know the Church was true and that the keys of the priesthood really were lodged there but we just didn't want to stifle any one's freedom to think otherwise. No, we can hardly expect the children to get to shore safely if the parents don't seem to know where to anchor their own boat.
...and since everything I touch or am touched by recently has led me to thoughts of my parents, this quote has had me thinking about them more than ever.
I didn't grow up in the LDS faith, but I grew up in a household of faith. Faith in mankind. Faith in country. Faith in family. Knowing that when all around us the world was spinning dizzily out of control with this voice saying that and that voice saying this, there were certain things that would never change, mainly family.
I knew things, not because it was really ever talked about, but because it was lived. My dad's handshake meant his word was signed by the grasp of his very large strong fingers. His broad shoulders allowed him to physically sustain his home, his family, his farm, and his country in WW II. His love for the flag, the banner for his country, caused him to carry the red, white and blue in the color guard every Memorial Day at Minneola's cemetery.
For years he proudly raised a flag in front of our home everyday...
On one of our many visits home, we happened to be there for Memorial Day. It was near the end of Daddy's life and we could all see him winding down. I asked him if he felt he could be in the color guard one more time, so that our children could see him as I had seen him every year of my youth. He did so, carrying the flag in a 60 mile an hour wind, walking up the only hill in southwest KS, which just happens to be where the cemetery was created. I looked at his picture after we got home and realized how old he really looked, his once straight back was bent into the wind, determination showing on his face to carry his flag with the respect it deserved.
...he looked old...
...but mostly he looked brave.
He has given me pride for my country that causes me to draw a quick breath when the National Anthem is sung (and to cringe when someone sings it at the Super Bowl and doesn't know the words).
....and while I am proud of him for all of that, there is also an appreciation for what my mother gave me that really came as a quiet unspoken gift, the gift to see the down-hearted, lonely, old and young alike, anyone who is less fortunate and to see in myself the ability to make a difference.
...even if it is just to smile at them, knowing I may be the only one who has done that for them in their life that day. I told my seminary students that I loved them everyday...and loved them I did and that love was returned 10 fold (and though I'm glad I don't have to get up at 4:30 any more, I sure do miss those mornings with my kids).
I remember sitting in the car in line at a fast food restaurant one day. I heard my mother take a deep breath and then sigh. I asked her what was wrong. She said, while pointing at a little sparrow on the parking lot next to us, "that little bird just ate a french fry...I'm so glad he found some food today."
...compassion, a Christ-like quality:
Matthew 10:29:
Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father.
Another time, at the Dairy Queen in Dodge City, mother observed a young boy counting his pennies trying to decide if he had money to buy something for lunch. My mother, tears in her eyes, handed him $10 and told him to buy himself a really good meal.
...and so it was, compassion for the less fortunate and respect for the world around us, that were the anchors my parents gave me.
...and while they weren't ever the type to boast or to draw glory to themselves, I am extremely proud of where I came from.
Like Jeffrey Holland said, "....we as their parents must be more certain than ever to hold to anchored, unmistakable moorings clearly recognizable to those of our own household."
...another happy thought.
Matthew and I will do our best to give these same strong values to our children and grandchildren.
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