What a Weekend

 

When I sat down to write and realized how much there was to say about just this weekend, I clicked out of the website and decided there was no way I was spending all evening working on a blog.  But then I told myself that if I just made this a quick update, I wouldn’t have it hanging over my head all week.  Besides the fact that Jim and I are flying out Wednesday morning for Chanda’s wedding in Mesa, and with every single one of my sisters and my parents there, this will be like a mini-family reunion.  I can hardly wait.  But I’m no dumb bunny.  I will come home with thousands of pictures, which in my pre-digital-dinosaur-camera life, would’ve been a complete exaggeration, but these days will be just the norm.

Besides the fact that this was stake conference weekend, Friday night, Marci and Jamie were performing with their flute choir as guest flutists at Seattle Pacific University.  They went up to Seattle earlier Friday afternoon with their flute teacher, and Jim, Nathan and I had some dinner after Jim got home from work and took off.  We thought we were OK timewise, but we didn’t take into account the fact that this was Friday evening  and that the exit for the University is the same one as the exit for the Space Needle and the Seattle Center.

We were one of a mile-long line of cars that wanted off at that same exit and traffic there was stopped.  Considering we had just 10 minutes till the concert started, and a fair distance to travel through messy traffic past the Seattle Center once we got off the exit, we found ourselves in somewhat of a pickle.  We didn’t bring the GPS with us, but Jim made a gutsy decision and decided to pass the line of cars and the exit, and try an exit further down the road, not knowing where in the heck we were. 

Long story short:  We traveled more the direction a very drunk crow would fly, we were a little late and missed the girls playing the prelude, but we arrived just in time for their one big number.  It was Welsh sounding, and we loved it -- it was so worth listening to.  The rest of the program had a lot that surprisingly was quite entertaining, and ended with the University’s orchestra playing Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture.  You can only get sleepy for so long during that number. 

 

(Attribute the big smile on Marci’s face to the cute college flute player (male) she had to sit by and talk to during the performance.)

 

Jim had two talks to prepare; one for the Saturday afternoon Priesthood Leadership session, and one for the Saturday evening adult session of conference.  He’s been on so many business trips lately, that he hasn’t been around home much.  He was also in charge of a slide show for the Saturday evening session that was to include pictures of many of the 110 baptisms that have happened in our stake in the past year.  Good thing he has two daughters who live and breathe this type of technology and they agreed to put the presentation together. 

Saturday morning was our second of two stake choir practices.  We were learning two hefty pieces:  “The Spirit of God Like A Fire Is Burning,” and “Did You Think To Pray,” both arranged by Mack Wilberg.  Doing this in only two practices can cause a director a bit of mental heartburn. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Right after the practice from 9 - 11, Jim and I were supposed to meet the stake presidency and their wives at noon in Des Moines at Anthony’s Home Port.  The first counselor, Brad Partridge, (the one next to Jim) who has been out of work for a long, long, time was just offered a great job with the church in Salt Lake.  He leaves tomorrow and starts work on Tuesday, so it was our last chance to spend some time together, even though it was right in the middle of a very packed day.

I did say we were supposed to meet them at 12, but the practice ran a little longer that it was supposed to.  I had to work with the organist on all the different organ stops I wanted her to use after that, and we didn’t get away from the stake center until 7 minutes to 12—about 15 minutes later than we should’ve been leaving.  I talked so much as we went zipping down the freeway toward Des Moines that I made Jim miss the exit.  This only added to the stress this man was dealing with, knowing that the others were there waiting, and that they had a very full schedule.  President Nicholls had an appointment to call the new counselor right after lunch, followed by their presidency meeting at 3 to make sure everything was in place for conference, Priesthood Leadership meeting from 4-6 which they all had to speak at, High Council from 6-6:30, and the Saturday night session at 7 which Jim and President Nicholls had to speak at.  Well, President Nicholls’ wife had just barely sat down, she was feeling just as rushed as we were, and so everything ended up just hunky dunky, even though I accidently ingested a cooked raisin in my fancy schmancy almond pilaf rice dish sitting right there next to my Idaho Rainbow Trout.

We hurried home after lunch to give time for Jim to finish up his talks and give back my laptop that we’d used to show the choir a 3-minute clip that the church did in 2007 on the growth of the stakes in the church.

**(If you haven’t seen it, it’s worth just googling the words, “Growth of LDS stakes,” and click on the one that is on lds.org.  The music is the same arrangement of “The Spirit of God” we sang today in conference, and a red dot and a light flash on the map as each stake is created from 1830 to 2007.  By the end of the show, as the years progress, lights are flashing all over the world and I can’t watch it without a bit of blubbering.) 

Anyway, me having the computer didn’t give the girls much time to finish the slideshow with the music, and of course, in situations like that, with Jim needing to take it back to the stake center an hour later, all kinds of technological difficulties are going to arise that probably never would when you have all the time in the world.  This added another level of stress to Jim that he didn’t need.  He finally had to leave without it and arrived 20 minutes late to his presidency meeting, and I agreed to come early to the 7 p.m. meeting and bring it to him.  There was a happy ending.  It turned out perfectly and touched a lot of hearts.  The Seattle mission president and his wife were there speaking and they loved it and talked about how they had been to most of the baptisms on there.

Jim’s talk was amazing as was President Nicholls’, who has had very strong impressions that it is time for our stake to really grow and split.  It was quite a prophetic talk as he shared with us the feelings that he has been having.  President Larkin, the Seattle Mission President, talked about how the Federal Way stake is considered “Paradise” by the missionaries, as we are the top baptizing stake in the mission, and if we continue on at the same level we are at now, we will be among the top stakes in the church.  He was so funny.  He told us he didn’t want to come speak to us and foul anything up as we were doing so well.  But it was right after that that President Nicholls told us it was time for us to move the work forward and grow the stake and gave us three specific goals he had for us. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stake conference was quite an event.  Jim and Brad were released as counselors.  Jim was put in as first counselor, and one of our current bishops, Ryan Mortensen, was put in as second counselor.  Nathan was sustained to receive the Melchezidek Priesthood and become an Elder, and the stake choir was just an incredible experience.  On that one, I just wish you could’ve been there.  President Partridge (Brad, the counselor who was just released) had to speak right after the choir sang, “The Spirit of God.”  He stood there for a minute then said, “I’ve only cried five times in my adult life . . . one of them was when my brother died,” then listed off the other few times and then said, “the last time was just now during that song.”  President Nicholls’ wife said she watched her husband and said, “his face was red as he tried to stop from sobbing on the stand.”  I had many comments from so many people.  The strange thing was that as I have prayed about this and worked on this for the last three or so months, I have felt like this would be a spiritual experience, and that we would be able to have help, but as I directed it, I didn’t feel anything.  When I  sat down, I almost felt deflated and depressed, but since then, I have had so many people come up and talk about what they felt.  I think my favorite comment was from Robert E. Lee, one of our tenors who interpreted for the deaf when he wasn’t singing with the choir:

This is copied from the e-mail he sent me:

“One deaf sister, who has been deaf since birth, said she physically felt the music (specifically the first song) and got Goosebumps, which has never happened to her before with a Choir. It was almost as if she could hear us.  The group asked me, when I came back down to interpret, if the first song was really powerful.  When I answered, yes, they replied: we thought so, because we could feel it and we can understand why you had a tear in your eye when you sat down.”

I’ve also been getting messages tonight on Facebook;  Here is the latest one from one of the choir members:

"You were right about us getting angelic help with the stake choir.  Goosebumps and tingles.  Tears of joy from the spirit.  Thank you for your passion, dedication, sense of humor and vision!!!"

You can’t take pictures in the chapel.  I would’ve loved a picture of the full choir. But I did run around wildly snapping shots in the primary room as the choir was arriving early this morning and warming up.  These are really, really good people that I love and appreciate.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jamie was actually a very big help to me with this whole choir experience.  The first week, she played parts for me as the choir separated and she and I worked with just the men for an hour while the women stayed in the chapel and worked on their parts.   Jamie was also good enough to sit on the organ bench during conference by Janis Lewis, our incredible organist, and pull organ stops and turn pages during the parts of the songs when things got complicated – which happens when you have a director that is asking for close to the the improbable in organ sounds and volumes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After conference was over, we left Jim at the stake center for a meeting with the new presidency, and Nathan and I and the girls came home.  Nathan came in to talk about his ordination as an Elder after conference and we got talking and ended up having one of those talks that I wish I had a transcript of to go back and read as often as I wanted.  It was a highlight of my day that was full of incredible experiences.

 

Well, as Marci would say, “Yup, it was quite a weekend.”  And so much for my QUICK update. . .

♫♪♫Daddy Sang Bass, Mama Sang Tenor♫♪♫

 

As the ward organist, I was playing, “Love At Home” for our opening hymn this happy Mother’s Day morning in Sacrament Meeting, but something just wasn’t right.  I was trying to concentrate on getting my feet to all the right pedals, which unfortunately kept jumping all over with the bass line, and figure out what was wrong at the same time.  I couldn’t hear people singing parts anywhere and the ladies in front of me that have very strong beautiful  voices sounded awful.  What in the heck were they singing?  The melody an octave lower in the tenor range?  Jim, with the lovely tenor voice, is up on the stand wondering, “And since when could I hit all these bass notes?  Dallin, (my previously paid ward choir deep bass guy who is home for Mother’s Day weekend), is stymied as to why he can’t even come close to hitting the bass notes that he’s always been able to before, and telling Nathan beside him that he’s lost his singing voice.  All the while, my mind is scrambling for answers.  Dare I start messing with knobs in the middle of the song?  Should I try and do something in between verses?  Just how many places can I look at once and not totally massacre the music?  But  -- the people in the congregation are obviously in pain, what should I do?

I decided to just wait and search for answers after the song was over, but I can tell you right now that “Love At Home” is an agonizingly long song when it sounds that awful and you know that you’re the reason. 

In the event that you are ever in a similar situation, let me tell you about a nasty little knob on the left hand side of your organ, (should it happen to be an old style “Allen” organ like ours), that just might save you some grief.  By turning the knob to the left or the right, you can transpose the music up or down five steps.  Well, some knot head had turned that knob completely to the left and the organ was playing the music so high that everyone was hopelessly aiming for the octave lower than what was written in the hymn book. I set it back to ‘Normal,’ but when I started the sacrament song, it sounded like the song was written just for basses, the contrast was so great.  My, my, what a way to start a Mother’s Day.

Then, for the strangest of Mother’s Day gift remembrances that the bishopric has ever given out. . .  The counselor in the bishopric stood up after the closing prayer and asked all the mothers in the congregation to stand, and then for some wild reason he mentioned how during the ward service project on “Earth Day,” he had talked to women in the ward and when asking them what they would like from the bishopric for Mother’s Day, they had given him a very specific answer.  He then asked the young men in the ward  to go back to the foyer and bring back a tree for each mother.  I’m playing the postlude “mood music” at this point, wondering, “A TREE???  WHERE in the world am I going to put another tree in our yard?  I don’t need another tree, I get no sun as it is.  In fact, I don’t WANT another tree. What women in the ward were responsible for this travesty?  Dang.  What am I going to do with this tree during the rest of the meetings?  Maybe Jim would take it with him when he left to go do stake business in another ward.  What kind of tree would our bishopric buy us, anyway?”  This is all too weird.  And then the young men come out with baskets. "Just what kind of tree would fit in a basket?”   I can’t see what’s going on, this is all basically being picked up in my peripheral vision and I’m getting a headache from all the unanswered questions zinging around in my now “mystery-ed” out brain. 

Honestly, when the little deacon shoved the basket full of See’s chocolate bars right in front of my face, blocking my music as I continued to try to play the postlude, I almost grabbed him around the neck and hugged him anyway.  No tree after all; just a “treat” I can easily manage without needing a shovel, manure, or space to put it.  Happy Mother’s Day Sacrament Meeting ending after all.

Explosive Colors, Clouds and Even a Few Quilts

 

We packed a lot into those nine April days we had in Salt Lake City after dropping the kids off in Rexburg; Jim, with his dash to Winnipeg for three days to be a Boeing Engineer (while on vacation), and working Thursday and Friday at the Boeing plant in Salt Lake (did I mention he was still on vacation,) Thursday and Friday mornings at the temple, Saturday afternoon spent at the Tulip Festival at Thanksgiving Point with a Barbeque that Janet put on at Jay Ann’s afterwards, Saturday evening bringing our Walton Family Curse to the BYU Men’s Volleyball Quarterfinal Championships in Provo, an incredible Easter morning with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and all week for me on a Search and Rescue mission in the dungeon of the Family History Library, with several very enlightening classes on English Probate and navigating the New Family Search thrown in to keep me completely aware of how little I really do know.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just in case you were wondering, the Salt Lake Temple is 484 steps from the front door of The Kimball, and when you walk out at 4:44 in the morning and want to make the 5 a.m. session, that comes in very handy.  Unless, of course, there is no 5 a.m.session, and then you realize it is the perfect opportunity to do sealings instead.  Jim and I spent Thursday and Friday morning there and with the help of some sealing teams that were already in place, we were able to get nearly 100 of our ancestors sealed, including a pair of great grandparents, Thomas Dee and Grace Herbert,  who were married in 1771 in New Windsor, Berkshire, England. 

It really was an incredible experience, as at one point while kneeling at the altar, it hit me how much the lives of these people for whom we were being sealed would change.  Husbands and wives, who till now have had to live separate and apart in the spirit world, would now be able to be together;  whole families were now connected and no one’s progress would be stopped except by their own choices.  And yet, even with the incredible events that were happening there in the sealing room, I had to smile when I glanced around once and noticed that Jim and I and the sealer were the only ones awake.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We do not end up for a week in Salt Lake City every spring and fall by chance.  Spring flowers and autumn leaves on Temple Square leave the competition in the dust in my book.  With the wild weather we’ve had lately, I was near to hyperventilating when we arrived the middle of April and the majority of the flowers were still debating on the merits of making their debut into such chilly circumstances.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By the following weekend though, a few more of the really brave ones had come up, and they were definitely worth the worry and the wait.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am pretty sure these little feathered guys were probably getting tired of frozen dinners by now and looking for something a little more on the fresh side.  (And there are TWO birds in this bush, not one.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am so glad that I do not have to choose favorites . . . it would be like asking which child you loved more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And if you are just scrolling through these so fast you only see a blur of color – Shame on you.  (In the next life, I hope you are stuck in charge of sanitation . . .)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There’s something rather ironic about Bleeding Hearts, Bachelors’  Buttons, and Forget-Me-Nots hanging out together so harmoniously.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Personally, I think Temple Square just radiates happiness—rain or shine-- and everything around it just soaks it up and sends it back out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Up close and personal with the Bachelors’ Buttons who are sending it back out for all they are worth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Up close and personal with an ex-bachelor’s buttons. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Who needs lights anyway?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Signs of “Cloudal Competition”  .  . . proving that they can explode with color just as much as the flowers beneath them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Church Museum of Art has opened a new exhibit on quilts.  Friday night after a great dinner out, we stopped by.   In the past, Jim has taken the kids there while I worked at the Library, so this was almost the first chance I’d had to just take my time, read all the plaques and enjoy the show.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This was my very favorite quilt.  If I were a quilting sort of person, I would make this one – just in different colors.  In fact, we were admiring the quilt when the granddaughter (not great granddaughter, JUST granddaughter) of the man who made it (he was born in 1860, mind you) happened by, and we visited with her for awhile.  She’s just a little older than I am.  Do the math on that little conundrum.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We were slowly meandering through the exhibit, when we looked over and saw Elder Marlin K. Jensen and his wife standing and talking with some people in the quilt exhibit room.  Within about 10 minutes, some officials had brought in some folding camp chairs, a huge crowd had gathered and filled them up, and then it appeared they had a reunion of their ward long before when he was Bishop.  Someone had made this quilt which had memories of specific families that had been in the ward back then.  Jim and I had wandered off, but returned and just kind of hung out on the outside edge of the crowd for a while and listened to some of the stories he told as he pointed out different quilt blocks and everyone there laughed and reminisced together.  At the end, he promised them some great refreshments for their patience, but we didn’t feel too much like crashing their party.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I slow down for flowers.  Jim slows down for ships, bridges, pallet racks, I-Beams, construction, connections, moments, cavitation and motorcycles.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A bird’s eye view of the scene between decks that Jim is looking at on the ship up above.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ryan Murphy – at the top of my list of “Wanna Be Like When I Grow Ups.”  He is assistant director of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir under Mack Wilberg.  We don’t miss Thursday night choir rehearsals when we are in town.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Everything about this temple just says to me, “BUILT TO LAST—Come what may.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do these little marvels not look to you like they are lit up from the inside?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And here’s another marvel lit up from the inside.  We were just walking home near here and we heard someone call, “President Walton!”  We looked around, and there was our new home teacher and his wife who just moved into our ward. We had a great visit.  Jim was impressed with his dedication.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If I actually had favorites, these Ranunculi would be right there on top – well, at least right beside the pansies below, and the, Oh heck – never mind, I love them all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How often have Jim and I taken the time to just wander through the Visitor’s Center, stop, and enjoy it?  What a wonderful way to spend the evening Easter Sunday.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s so fun to walk around Temple Square and hear these guys saying, “Choose me!!!  Choose me!!!”  I have no problem obliging; they hold still, don’t get tired of posing and they’re so photogenic.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And here’s one amazing guy that’s lit up from the inside, has an explosively colorful personality, radiates happiness, makes my life so worthwhile AND does it with a smile.  Definitely my favorite.  Get your own.

This concludes Part 1 of 3.

Thanksgiving Point and Beyond

I just happened to send out a blog post on the Sunday after we first arrived in Salt Lake City back on the 16th of April.  Bryce, Jim’s brother, noticed we were going to be there for awhile, and since they were coming down from Calgary the following Friday, we decided to meet and spend some time together.  Janet, Jim’s sister, works at Thanksgiving Point and she’s often told us what an incredible place it is, so we all decided to meet there Saturday afternoon for the Tulip Festival.  Jim had to twist my arm a bit to get me to spend an afternoon with more flowers, but  hey, I can be obliging every once in awhile.

Well, we just happened to be related to the right people, because as an employee, she was able to get us all in to the gardens and Tulip Festival for free.

 

We weren’t the only ones there, and even though we had to circle like vultures waiting for a parking spot to open up, the gardens were so spread out, you never felt crowded.

Isn’t it lovely when siblings grow up and still enjoy each other’s company?

 

 

 

Megan, Sandy’s daughter, and her husband, Jared,  and their son Logan, also met us there.

Logan was rather impressive for a little guy his age, as he would generally perform on command.  He had a repertoire of faces that he could make given the right signal.  I wish I could remember what they all were. 

 

This Four-Star Bird Hotel appeared ready for occupancy.

 

Happy Grandma, happy Logan.

There were a tremendous number of flowers that had not opened up yet, being only about two weeks behind because of the weather, but the ones that had were sure worth the visit.

This “face” he gave us had a name, but it escapes me now.

 

These flowers had an interesting name as well, but beats the heck out of me what it was.

 

 

This is my “If You Don’t Hurry and Take the Stinkin’ Picture, I’m Going to Smack You” face.

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Lot’s daughter.  She was such a nice girl.

Terry was feeling a little more cooperative than normal.  I was impressed with how few silly faces I got before I was able to get a “respectable” picture.  He definitely has to be one of the reasons why Janet ALWAYS has a smile on her face.

 

 

Bryce and Sandy.  They’ve sold their big beautiful home and acreage in Okotoks and are moving to the far side of Calgary where  they will be just two minute from the new Calgary Temple (once it is built.)  If we want to know how much hair Jim will have in five years, we just look at a picture of Bryce.

 

 

Megan, Logan and Jared.

 

This place was just one beautiful surprise after another.  Turn a corner and there was something else you just weren’t expecting.

 

The Rose Arbors minus the roses plus one Jim still equals cool place.

 

Grandpa and Logan feeding the Koi.  I gave them two pictures on my camera and left.  I think they are the ultimate in disgusting.  (The fish, not Bryce and Logan.)

Welcome to the “Secret Garden.”  I would love to come back when everything is in bloom.

Jim is talking to Aubrey on the phone.  Nice place to ramble and rant.  Actually, I can’t picture Jim ranting, but it was still a nice place.

I had to give myself some credit for getting him to remove his BYU sweatshirt for a picture or two—or else there’s magic in this place. 

Enjoy his hair – it won’t all be there in five years.

 

Actually, there WAS a feeling of magic in this place.

 

 

According to Bryce, you are looking at “Flowering Quince.”

 

 

There were at least five waterfalls, and if I remember right, Janet said they were all man made.

 

 

 

 

 

 

You can only get a True Blue-blooded Cougar to remove his BYU sweatshirt for a picture so many times in one excursion.

 

We had an amazing Barbeque dinner at Jay Ann’s house in Saratoga Springs after our afternoon at the gardens.  No less than five salads to go with the juiciest of hamburgers and all manner of chips.  I took one big bite of dessert and then had to share the rest with Jim, though, as it was infested with raisins.

It doesn’t appear that Logan liked the raisins either.  Actually, this is one of his “On command” faces with the name I can’t remember.  In fact,  this may possibly be the look you got when you said, “Give us “The Face.”

Scott and Alisha and their little guys, Molly and Foster, came down from Kaysville and joined us there for dinner.  You’ll just have to imagine Alisha and Molly – I put my camera away so we could eat and run, (now how polite is that) and committed the unpardonable.    We had to get gas before making it down to Provo for the BYU Men’s Volleyball game, and someone was in too much of a hurry.

He does look a little rushed, doesn’t he?  Grand pianos -  one of those things he slows down for that I forgot to mention.

This concludes part 2 of 3.