Our unknown influence

One day when Zach was about three or four years old, he began asking me questions about what my life was like when I was little.  He asked me what kind of toys I had had.  I told him about my Easy Bake Oven and my Chatty Cathy. 

I told him about the old dolls we played with, with the chopped off hair and ink stained faces, a threadbare stuffed giraffe, plasticine cookies with a plastic tea set.

Months went by, and I never gave the conversation a second thought.  The following Christmas approached and we asked Zach what he wanted for Christmas.  "A stuffed giraffe," was the response.  I thought it was a bit of an odd request, but determined to find him a stuffed giraffe.  After all, it was the only thing he asked for.

Now this was in the days before Amazon or Ebay, and we had to actually go out hunting for the requested toy.  George and I both searched diligently but were unable to come up with a stuffed giraffe anywhere.  Of course, it's always the way, you might see a particular toy every year, but when it's the one your child wants, it's nowhere to be found.  We decided to try a new tack.  "Wouldn't you like some Lego, or a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle?  Maybe a Furby or a set of Power Rangers?"  No.  None of these things.  The only thing he wanted was a stuffed giraffe.  We never did find a stuffed giraffe that year, and Zach had to settle for other toys, but when the following Christmas rolled around we asked again, "what do you want for Christmas?" 

"A stuffed giraffe". 

Still?  This time George played the hero, and found a stuffed giraffe in a specialty store.  It was nothing special, maybe 10" tall, it was stuffed and it was a giraffe. 

We wrapped it up, put it under the tree.  Christmas morning Zach was delighted to find the stuffed giraffe he had longed for, for over a year. 

After the papers were gathered up, the ribbons and bows put away and Zach was busy with other pursuits, I picked up the giraffe and stroked its fur, wondering about his tenacity on wanting it.  "It's funny," I thought, "this reminds me of the stuffed giraffe I had as a child."  Suddenly it hit me.  The conversation from nearly two years previous came back to me in a rush.  He wanted a stuffed giraffe because I had had a stuffed giraffe.  The giraffe had never been special to me, it was just another toy in the box, and I happened to mention it.  It became special because I then realized how much more of an influence I was on him than I had ever dreamed.

Love for him filled my heart.  My little boy wanted to be like me!  I guess we just never know how our words or actions will affect someone, especially our children.

A few days ago I was on Facebook and it popped up some history for me.  This was an event I had totally forgotten about, but decided I want to save it here, because it was so meaningful to me at the time, and I don't want to forget it again.

The winter of 2014 was one of high snowfall here in Calgary.  Since we normally don't receive large amounts of snow, the City doesn't do much actual snow removal, mostly they just salt it and push it around.  Because of deep snow on the residential streets, getting around in a car became quite a challenge for many people.  The following is what I posted about one of my experiences with the snow.

Let me tell you about my morning.

Day before yesterday, the city crews came by and “ploughed” our street, which means that they just took the snow from the middle of the street and made it into a big pile beside our parked cars (they did this at 11 pm btw, so yes, our cars were parked on the street, go figure). Yesterday morning I managed to get out, but this morning, due to the thaw yesterday and the softening of the snow pile, I got stuck. Really, really stuck. Well, what to do? The very first thing I did was offer a little prayer. “Heavenly Father, please help me get my car unstuck so I can go to work”. Then I tried rocking the car back and forth. I tried putting salt down around my tires. I shovelled, put mats under my tires, shovelled some more, put down gravel. Nothing helped.

Let me interject here that in the past few weeks I have helped to push out four cars. I am 53 years old, morbidly obese and have a bad back. But when I see someone struggling I just can’t bear to abandon them without at least trying to help. You’d think that would build me up some good karma, but the few people to see me struggling during this time looked the other way. I thought about my little prayer, and how it seemed like it was going unanswered. I felt like crying, but knew that wasn’t going to help matters so I gulped back my tears, and decided to take another look to see if there was anything else to be done.

Looking under the car showed me I was probably high centered. I went to the shed and got a long-handled metal shovel and started shovelling out the ice chunks from under the car. I worked on it for over an hour.
Just as I had got to the point where I thought I had removed enough snow to try again, a young man in an SUV pulled up alongside, rolled down his window and asked me if I needed help. He pulled out a tow rope, attached it to my car and had me on my way in less than five minutes. I thanked him profusely, gave him a big hug, and proceeded to drive to work. Now the tears really did flow. I was SO grateful for his help.

I pondered this experience a lot on my drive in. Why had the Lord answered my prayer in this way? Certainly He could have sent someone along much quicker, and had me out sooner. But He waited until I had done ALL I could. The result was that when help came, I was a hundred times more grateful than if it had come immediately. I thought about my life and the times I have suffered and struggled and it seems like there no answers. I thought of those who suffer trials that seem unfair. Good people to whom bad things happen. I’ve always felt that those trials strengthen us and build our character, but today’s lesson really hit home about how much more grateful we are when we receive relief from something that is really hard.
So now I’m stiff and sore, my shoulders ache, my back hurts. But I am glad, and so grateful. Grateful for a stranger who stopped and was my knight in shining armour. And grateful for a loving Father who allows me to suffer a little, so I can learn life’s lessons.

My first job

My first job other than babysitting, which I did as much as possible so I could have money for Tiger Beat magazines and Donny Osmond records, came about the summer I was thirteen.  My parents never really gave us allowance much, so I always worked as much as I could starting at an early age so I could have spending money. 

Unfortunately there were not many jobs around for a thirteen year old girl. But that summer my older brother had been working for General Farm Supplies building metal wheels to put on irrigation pipe so the system could roll across the fields as it watered.  For some reason (perhaps when he took his canoe trip up the Oldman River, I can't remember for sure) he needed to take a few weeks off.  He didn't want to lose the work, so he sent me and my brother, Leon, in his place while he was gone.  So we worked together for about three weeks, first putting cleats on the half rims, then adding spokes between the rims and hubs, and finally assembling the two halves together to make a whole wheel.

The wheels we made were similar to those shown in the above picture; not exactly the same, but you get the idea.

Anyway, we were able to make about three wheels an hour together and were paid $2 per wheel, so split the $6 per hour between us.  Now you must understand that in the early 70s, minimum wage was $2 per hour, so to get $3 per hour, we really thought we were rolling in the dough.  It was hard work, but I'm glad I had a chance to do it.

Tender mercies

On Thursday evening, our ward Relief Society held their annual Christmas party.  The theme of the party was Our Loving Hands, and how we are the Saviour's hands to help others.  Ladies were encouraged to bring socks that were to be taken to the Drop In Centre, a shelter for the homeless.

While I was inside enjoying the party, someone broke into my car by smashing the passenger front window.  One other sisters' car was also vandalized this way.  George's cell phone was in the car and was stolen.  The really sad thing was that Donna Spackman, the other lady whose car was vandalized, had put the socks in her car, and they were also stolen.  I suppose that the thieves saw the bag and assumed it was Christmas presents.  Now, more than likely, they have been tossed in a dumpster somewhere.

Anyway, I was understandably upset, especially after all the financial hardships we have already faced this year, but began dealing with the issue as soon as I could.  I called the police, and was told I needed to go to the station to submit a report.  I arrived at the station to find it closed.  Who ever heard of that?  I've never heard of a police station closing.  What, do crimes only happen in the daytime?  But anyway, I got up early the following morning and went down to the station to file a report.

Upon arriving at home, I still had half an hour before the insurance company opened, so I opened up Facebook on my computer.  I had a private message from Pam Merrell: could I call her as soon as I got up.  I called, and it seems she had posted about the incident on a social media site she frequents.  Apparently she had received a reply from someone who wanted to pay for the repairs to our cars!  She gave me a number to call, and found that indeed, a man named Kelly had stepped forward wanting to pay for a new window.  I was given the name of the general manager at a local autobody shop, and contacted him.  He assured me it was true, so after checking out the shop to make sure it was legit and taking Pam and her hubby Dan with me just to be safe, I went to the shop.  Sure enough, a former employee of the shop had stepped up.  So I will be able to get my window repaired tomorrow.

 What is important about all this, is that a few days previous I had been reading an article in the Ensign, our church's magazine.  The article was from a talk given at the recent women's session of general conference.  The speaker said that if we had any doubts about our divine nature, we should pray and ask Heavenly Father if we are his daughters and if He loves us.  She promised us a wonderful experience if we would do this.  So I determined to try her words.

I prayed and asked the Father if I truly am His daughter and does He love me.  Although I tried to pray fervently, I really didn't feel any response at the time.  Slightly disappointed I carried on with my day.

When the response came that there were such good people out in the world willing to help me this way, I suddenly felt the spirit whisper to me, "This is the answer to your prayer.  Heavenly Father allowed this to happen to you so that He could magnify His power."

While going through all this, Pam said something that struck a chord with me:  Good always wins.  Sometimes it may take longer, sometimes it may be quick, but good will always win out over evil.  Satan may rage, but he doesn't win, he never will.  In the end so much more good came of this incident than bad.  Both Donna and I will have our cars repaired.  The newspaper ended up picking up the story, and because of that, Superstore is donating $50 per store to replace the socks that were stolen.  More socks are coming in from people who read the story.  Two people will be blessed by the Lord for their generosity towards us.  I am so grateful to the Lord and His tender mercies.

What scares you?

This is my journal jar question of the day. 

Well the short answer is, lots of things scare me.  I'm scared of being in debt and not being able to retire.  I'm scared of pain.  I'm scared of dying.  I'd like to say no, I have enough faith to know I'll have eternal life but the truth is I'm still scared of the process of dying; I suppose because I'm afraid it will hurt, and I'm afraid of pain.  I'm scared of bees dying off.  I'm scared of terrorists.  I'm scared of disease, disaster and famine.  I'm scared of school shooters, psychopaths and sociopaths.  I'm scared of driving in the dark.  I'm scared of going blind and deaf.  I'm scared of my kids leaving the church and losing them forever.  I'm scared of Liberals and NDP.  Actually I'm scared of Conservatives too.  I guess I'm scared of politicians.  And doctors.  And lawyers.  I'm scared of movie and airplane seats that are too small.  I'm scared of maggots, tapeworms, roundworms, hookworms and Guinea worms. 

But...

I'm not scared of spiders. 

Early homes

I was born August 19th, 1960, the seventh of ten children to Ronald and Edith Francis of Lethbridge, Alberta, Canada.  I don't remember my first home, a bungalow my parents owned on 14th Avenue.  We moved when I was two, into a two-story home on 15th Avenue.

This is what the house looks like now, or at least as of the last Google drive by, as it is snipped from Google Earth.  I remember it being a lot bigger.  It used to be pink stucco on the ground floor, with deep red natural wood siding on the upper floor.  We have always referred to it as "the pink and red house".  I guess we can't do that any more. 

I lived here until I was eight.  This was when we moved to Colombia for a year.  Just prior to that move, we lived in a rental home for three months.  It had been the plan for us to return to this home after we returned from Colombia, but we were supposed to go for two years, and when we returned after a year, the house was still being leased.  We ended up buying a small house on the north side of Lethbridge, where we lived for a year.

It still looks pretty much exactly how I remember it, except it had a crabapple tree in front instead of a birch.  This house was much too cramped for us, and my dad was soon on the lookout for larger digs.  We found this house on 6th Avenue south.

It still looks pretty much as I remember it, except that nauseating tree in front is three times bigger, and they've covered the stone front steps with a ramp.  It's actually a lot larger than it looks, as you look at the narrow end from the street.  This was a great house - roomy, lots of bedrooms, lots of storage space, and lots of cool extras and upgraded finishes.  Since it was much nicer than our 15th Avenue house, we decided to move in here and rented out the other two houses.  I lived here until I was 16, when I moved out on my own.

Thanksgiving with Harley and Sarah

Arrived home from St. Paul, Alberta last night after spending Thanksgiving weekend with Harley and Sarah and their kids.  Katie's first birthday was the day before we arrived, so they saved the birthday party for when we got there.

 Sarah crocheted Katie an adorable Tinkerbell dress.  She had wings, and headband and little matching shoes.  So cute!

 She didn't quite get the blowing out the candles part, but what a beautiful cake we had.  Kate thought it was delicious!

She got lots of help from her friend Louis opening her many presents.  We gave her a pink houndstooth jacket, a pair of Calgary Flames pajamas and two dresses.

 Sarah had fairy wings for all the girls.  Of course Zane had to try them too.  Why should the girls get all the fun?

 The weather was beautiful on Saturday so we took the kids to the lake.  St. Paul is surrounded by many lakes, and is built right next to a large one.  The geese were migrating, and flew over in waves of hundreds to settle on the lake.  It was actually funny to watch because they are so graceful as they fly, but when they see the water, they just kind of drop out of the sky, and flutter down to the water.  They look like someone dropped a bunch of tissues in the sky and they just kind of flutter down.

Katie and Zane both love the swings and wanted long rides.  They'd probably still be there now if they had not had to surrender the swings to some other children.

 

Katie sure loves her brother and wants to do everything he does.  Lucky this playground had dual slides.

On the way home we collected some autumn treasures and made a centerpiece for our Thanksgiving dinner, which we enjoyed on Sunday, since George had to be back in Calgary on Monday for dialysis.  I think it turned out very pretty, and didn't cost a dime.

Sarah made us her first Thanksgiving dinner ever, and it was delicious.  She really has a talent in the kitchen.  

Harley and Sarah have recently moved into a larger apartment - they have the upper floor of a duplex.  It's a lovely place with three bedrooms and a garage.  The price is $300 less than what they paid at their last place, which wasn't as big.  The Lord has truly blessed them.

It was a lovely visit but came to an end much too soon, as always.  We had a wonderful time, and it was so fun to visit the grandkids.  Zane was so excited when we got there, he wouldn't let me out of his room until nap time, needing to show me his new room and every toy in it.  Those kids are such treasures to me, as is Chloe, and it sure is hard to see them so seldom.

I got a treat when we arrived at home, as Zach was still home for the weekend.  He had come home to Calgary to spend Thanksgiving with his new girlfriend, Taylor.  He was at the house when we arrived, picking up some groceries and other things he had forgotten.  It was nice to see him, if only for a few minutes.