The Beginning

I wish to begin with a disclaimer.  I'm not, nor never have been a blogger, journal keeper, record keeper or anything of the kind.  I'm not a big writer, and am terrible at taking pictures.  Organization of my thoughts and life is not in my nature. 

I begin this blog with three desires.  First, is a desire for my posterity to know me, to know who I was and what kind of person I was.  That perhaps when I am gone they might read what kind of person I was and feel a connection to me, as I feel connected to my ancestors that I know something about.  Second, I have a desire to do something that will draw me closer to Heavenly Father by demonstrating my desire to be obedient, and we've been told by our leaders to keep a record of our life.  Third, I am striving to find a way to be more obedient to the commandment to keep the Sabbath Day holy, and feel that I will be more successful at that if I have something to occupy my time more constructively than sitting in front of the television or playing computer mah-jong.

Since much of my life has already gone by, and I don't know where to start, I think I will start by using a cheat and answer some journal jar questions.  My hope is that this will get my thoughts flowing, and at least provide some snapshots into my life, if I can provide nothing more.

So I begin.


"What is your full name?  Who were you named for?  How do you feel about your name?"

My full name is Elizabeth Francis Peterson.  My parents never gave me a middle name (for which I always felt a bit gypped) but since I am married, I now use my maiden name as a middle name.  I was named for my great-grandmother Elizabeth Miller, and my aunt, Elizabeth Snow.  I love my name.  I can't say that was always true, as I child I found it cumbersome and there was never enough space on my school worksheets for nine letters.  I longed to be Karen or Val, so I wouldn't have to curve my name down the side of the page.  Apparently when I was very small, before my earliest memories, my mother had intended to call me Betsy, but she made the mistake of letting me know my name was Elizabeth, and I really hated Betsy, so insisted upon being called Elizabeth, or rather "Eeeeeelizabeth!"  Much to my chagrin I had a hard time living this down, and still at times am ribbed by my siblings (such an insensitive lot) about it.  So at the age of ten I decided I must drop the hated Elizabeth, and adopt Liz as my name.  I have been known as Liz for many years, and still most people call me Liz, although I now am grown up enough to fit into my enormous name, and quite love it.  Really it's my own fault.  I suppose I could insist upon being Elizabeth, but am rather lazy, and it still can be a pain to write out all nine letters, so I just let it be what it is.

M