Windham Family Blog

My Job

2011-12-26T19:39:00.000-08:00

When I was a young woman... not like I'm ancient now... but, when I was early in the process of trying to figure out what kind of adult woman I wanted to be, and whether or not I could be who I wanted to be, I was blessed to have a couple of good women come into my life; to influence me and exemplify some characteristics I admired and wanted to emulate. One, more recently, has been such an example to me making a short list of three who've left a profound impression.

Laura: never said a negative thing about anyone.

Marty: always maintained an even, peaceful disposition, even when her kids pressed her buttons...even when, beneath the surface she was feeling less than peaceful :)

Jewel: after a lifetime of marriage and so many difficulties in life that most people never experience, has remained joyful, grateful, faithful and loving to her husband, to her children and grandchildren, and to her Father in Heaven.

There are many women who have touched my life; many I admire and respect, though these three have exemplified particular strengths I desire for my own. I've striven over the years to emulate these Christlike qualities. I've made progress, but still have miles to go before I rest, to quote the poet.

Recently, I had the opportunity to visit briefly with a sweet young mother I've known for some years. We've lived away from each other for a year or so, and I hadn't seen her in a long time when I happened to meet her at a party in the town where I used to live near her. She said something to me that touched me deeply.She told me I am one of the few women in her life who have had a profound impact on her as a young woman. I don't think she knows how much that means to me. I don't know if I'm her Laura, her Marty or her Jewel, but I'm so glad to be the Sally she will always remember.

That's part of what we want, as women, isn't it; To feel special to somebody? To feel like we've made a difference in the world?

Sometimes we feel like our role in life isn't such an important one. Especially when we choose to be home with our children, and for our husbands, we may come to believe our part in the grand scheme of the world's happenings isn't valued by the world, in general. If someone isn't paying you by the hour or by the week, month or year, then you must not be doing something valuable with your time, right? Being home with children, having children in general, is the role of someone not educated to do something more valuable to society, we sometimes feel...Of course this is wrong, but sometimes we listen to the voice of discouragement. This is important to understand: feelings like these; ideas like these are those planted by the enemy of righteousness. I don't have to name him here. You know who he is. It's important to know, too, that your Father in Heaven created you, as a woman, and gifted to you the necessary qualities which enable you to do the great work assigned to us, as women: to bear, nurture and rear righteous children; in essence, to build His kingdom here on earth.

I've used the line from the poem before, but remember it again: "The hand that rocks the cradle, rules the world." We see in the sad state of the world today, that many of us have not rocked the cradle with care. We've hired it away to the daycare workers and school teachers. No offense intended to any of those workers, as there is a true need for them and so many are gifted nurturers. However, in too many instances, women falsely believe that what they, themselves can do for money is more valuable than that which they could do at home, with their own children, for love alone. I do not apologize for stating here that no amount of money can hire a replacement mother. No mantter how gifted the caregiver, nobody can replace the care of a loving mother to her child. To anyone but the mother, it's a job to care for a child, no matter how gifted nor well intentioned the caregiver. A gentle, loving, rigtheous mother cannot be replaced by someone hired to do the work that rightfully belongs to her.

In considering the Atonement of Christ, one considers the greatest gift, greatest sacrifice, greatest service to all mankind... but a gift without price and not able to be purchased with money. The Atonement was sacrifice and service that no one can hire, but all mankind requires. Such is the type (on a much lesser scale, compared to that of the Savior), of love and gift of self that a mother gives to her family when she sacrifices the lauds of men, the merits of money and the gratification of self to give quiet, loving service to an infant in the night, in the morning, and at any moment when her baby, toddler, young child, or teenage child needs her. A mother who lovingly and willingly brings God's children into her home, welcomes them and loves them as they grow, who is there for them when they seek her and even when they don't; this mother rules the world, along with her sisters throughout the world who do the same godly work.

Truly, the errand of angels is given to women, though not a penny is paid for the great work we do.

How grateful I am for the women who have touched my life; those who have shown me how it looks to be the kind of woman I've tried to grow up to become. I'm still growing up, and have a long way to go.

Thank you Laura, Marty and Jewel... and thank you, Amber. I needed that. Sometimes I still hear the whisperings of the enemy, and I get discouraged.

It will be a long time before my kids are old enough to affirm my decision to be a stay at home mom. One of these days, when they're all grown, living their own lives with children of their own, I'll see whether or not the difference in the quality of their lives compared to so many of the sad people in this world is that which I've been hoping for and praying for all these years as I've been here to nurture and teach them by my words and deeds. Until then, I'll continue in the work I set out to do nearly a quarter of a century ago when I was pregnant with my first child: the work of motherhood; the work or womanhood.

Though I won't have a retirement fund to show for it all, I'm glad to be called to this work and grateful for it. My retirement plan is to lay up for myself treasure in heaven... because that's where my heart is...

Besides, the monument I'm building and plan to leave to the world will be worth more than a trust fund. It will be manifest in the lives of righteous people for generations to come... beginning with those lives I brought into this world.

At the end of the day, I don't think "another day, another dollar." I do, sometimes, think on the words from the scripture that say, "This is my work and my glory; to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man."

What a job, huh?

I'm glad to be a partner in that work...though small my role may be, in the grand eternal scope...still...the worth of one soul is great in the sight of God.

As many women who have impacted my life, I'm a woman who will profoundly impact the lives of these children I've borne... and other people...

I'm not a young woman anymore...but not a grandma yet,(though I'm old enough to be!).

I'm not done with my work here.

I'm not done growing up, either.

It's a strange place to be...but a good place to be.

Not to sound presumptuous, but I think it's the same place where we all are...

Wondering and Wandering in the Wilderness

2011-11-02T11:32:00.000-07:00

I've been wandering.

First, I left my home in Kyle, Texas to follow my husband to Fountain, Colorado. I felt lost there for a long time. Then, after a while, I found the special people the Lord placed in my path to be support, to be my friends, and I felt home.

After almost a year, I followed my husband away from Colorado and back to Texas... this time to Blanco; a small town in the Texas Hill Country. Here I am, lost again, and feeling like a stranger in a strange land... though a beautiful land where good people live.

For 40 years the Israelites wandered in the wilderness. They murmured against Moses... against God. Sometimes they complained it would have been easier for them to have remained in Egypt, where at least they felt at home...instead, they were lost in the wide world, doubting it was what was best for them.

It took the Hebrew slaves many years to become a people prepared to inherit the promised land. Many people were born and died while they wandered, until the time came when they were sufficiently humbled and obedient that the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, even the God of Jacob could bless them with all that had been promised their fathers.

I feel lost, in a way, and I wonder how long I'll wander in my wilderness before I'm sufficiently humble and obedient...? I know I was lead to Colorado for reasons my Father in Heaven knows... some of the reasons I know now, as well. I know, too that I was lead back to Texas for reasons my Father in Heaven knows. I'm not sure I know any of the reasons, yet, but hope I will, in time.

Just as I can look back and see the hand of the Lord guided by wisdom and care for my welfare when leading me away from my home of so many years, I believe the time will come when I look back on the whole of this passed year and see the wisdom... though I'm not quite getting a clear picture as of yet.

I've wondered about the Israelites; did they know they were rebellious? Did they know they were prideful and disobedient? When they were disobedient, did they justify their actions in such a way as to convince themselves that they were not? Do I do that same thing? The Lord was before them in a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. I don't see the Lord in a cloud, nor a pillar. I know He is there...but sometimes I wish I could see Him everyday. Then again, even with the cloud and pillar, they were slow to remember all He had done for them... maybe I would be the same. I don't know. I'm wandering.

Part of what was wrong in those days, I think, is that the people tended to be pretty ungrateful. No, "Thank you, Moses, for leading us out of 400+ years of slavery"... Moses even sang to the children of Israel a song of gratitude that took up almost a whole chapter in Exodus 15. He sang the story of their deliverance and eventually got the whole camp of Israel involved in the music before he was done, with people singing and dancing and playing musical instruments. I guess it must be pretty important for us to remember what the Lord has done for us and to say 'thank you'... After all, the Lord's prophet led the singing.

I wonder if counting my blessings and remembering all the Lord has done for me will help me as I wander in my own personal wilderness like it helped the people of Israel?

It's been said that faith is hope for things which are true, but are not seen. Because I hope, then perhaps I have faith sufficient to find the promised land. I hope it doesn't take another 40 years.

It's interesting to me how Israel wandered around and around, so close to their destination, but so far away; so close, yet so far... I can relate.

Israel wandered in the wilderness, but they weren't lost. God knew where they were. He was slowly, gently, as they were ready, leading them to the place He wanted them to be. None of us is ever lost, though we may be wandering...Like me... I'm not lost, I'm wandering. God knows where I am.

If I put what trust and faith I have in the Lord, I know He will eventually lead me out of the wilderness. And if I don't see the pillar of fire, nor the cloud, I at least know who the prophet is, and I can follow him; sing when he sings; go where he tells me the Lord wants me to go...I can do that.

One thing about wandering: With the right guidance-- if you keep putting one foot in front of the other, you eventually find your way home.

Letting Go

2010-10-20T07:32:00.000-07:00

When I was a little girl, my parents divorced. I was three and a half... not quiet four. It was long after my third birthday, because I remember my dad being there at home when I threw my bottle in the garbage, because three year old girls are too big to drink a baby bottle. He found me out later when I went garbage picking and washed it out and filled it up with milk... he wasn't too upset... thought it was funny. I digress- I know I wasn't four yet, because I was four when my brother Johnny was shot to death it the other room of our house during an argument with my sister's boyfriend. We lived in Loveland Park Ohio at that time... after the divorce. It was after we moved from Detroit to Loveland Park and then on to Modesto California that the first memorable sorrow relative to my parents' divorce came to me.

My dad followed us to Modesto, California, to be near his children. He had a niece and her family nearby in Sunnyvale, so it worked for him on a couple fronts. At any rate, my dad came to take us (my brother Philip, sister Iva and me) to visit him at his apartment. He had a small studio in San Francisco. It was so cool. I remember being fascinated at the little kitchenette. The city was amazing to me, as a child, as well. I guess San Francisco is fascinating anyway...

My dad brought us home to Modesto and our apartment after a weekend with him. I didn't want him to leave. I told him I wanted him to come home. I cried uncontrollably. I begged him please, please, please to not leave me. I missed him. I wanted to be with him. He was my daddy. No matter what had happened between him and my mother or anyone else, I loved him and wanted to have him every day. I couldn't breathe. I felt desperate. Then something happened that changed me to this day. A knife appeared, slicing my spirit and forever scarring me: My dad knelt down beside me and hugged me tight. He told me I was hurting him. He said it hurt him too much to see me cry like that. He told me to stop crying, because if I didn't, he wouldn't be able to come see me anymore.

I couldn't stop crying. I cried worse. He cried. Then my mom came out of the apartment and took me inside. I was nearly hysterical. I believed in that moment that I would never see my dad again, because I couldn't stop crying and he said he wouldn't come back if I didn't.

I understand his intentions, though he obviously knew NOTHING about child psychology. Regardless, he hurt me in such a way that I've never managed to heal completely from that.

I love easily, but I also stand ready for rejection, which I know, in my deepest of hearts, is coming. If my own father, who obviously loved me to the point of tears at my sadness; if he could turn away from me then who would stay? If there is so stability in my own home (as a child' mind thinks) then where is there a safe haven? Why is my wanting of my daddy (manifest by tears of sorrow for parting) enough to drive him away from me? To make him say he'll never come back?

As a child, I was devastated by this. As I grew, I had a lot of hang-ups (still do haha :) As a 42 year old mother of 9 children of my own, I realize a couple of very important lessons learned from this experience:

Firstly- our words and actions profoundly impact the growth and development of our children, so we should be very careful about what we say to them and how we treat them, focusing special care when we, ourselves are unhappy, exhausted, or otherwise depressed. Something said in moments of weakness or sadness may roll off our tongues and into the heart of a child to do him harm not easily undone.

Secondly- Divorce is not just about parents; a given, right? There are cases in which divorce is necessary. Unfortunately, there are those who violate sacred trust; hurt family members, molest them emotionally or physically. In these cases, such as in the instance of my own family of origin, divorce is necessary to protect the innocent. However, when a child's home is torn apart by divorce (and the turmoil preceding the same) it is imperative the adults focus special care and effort to love and support the child who doesn't have the advantage of years and wisdom, insight and experience to self-comfort. A child doesn't see the whole picture. He only sees his home is gone, his daddy is gone and his life, as he knew it, is over. He doesn't see anything beautiful in the future, or that things will get better. He only sees that, whereas he once was happy, now he is sad and lonely... and is powerless to change a thing.

In my family of origin, divorce really would have been better implemented about four years before I was born, when all of the wickedness came to light. For whatever reasons I won't go into now, my mother waited. I guess she wanted to give it her very best effort. I guess she didn't know that no matter what one spouse does, you can't change the other spouse. We are all agents unto ourselves. True, it does make it easier to be good and sweet to someone who treats you the same way, but it doesn't always work out that way. There is mental illness in the world, there are behavioral disorders, there are even physical conditions that alter mood and behavior to some extent... not to say that poor treatment of a spouse is ever, under any circumstances acceptable. And, parents have a responsibility to model healthy behavior for their children, as well... not just to treat each other appropriately. In my family of origin, it was the treatment of children in particular that was completely unacceptable. Strange, though, if I had been in a position to counsel my own mother back in 1964, I would have strongly encouraged her to remove her children from potential danger... and if she had followed my counsel, I would never have been born. I guess that just goes to show that sometimes good can come from rotten circumstances... if my life has been good at all... and I have to say, I at least am grateful for it :)

I'm left with the impression that, even though sometimes things go wrong...sometimes people do bad or hurtful things...I have hope, that with time and with practice in looking for the positive in negative situations, we can take something painful and grow something good from it. I haven't figured out how to minimize the scaring into nothingness, but maybe that's part of how we remember what brought us to the point at which we stand.

We are each the culmination of our life's experiences, are we not? If it weren't for the pleasures and the pain of this life, we would never grow to meet our full potential as spiritual beings having this mortal experience. As the tree trunk gains strength by swaying in the wind, so does our mind and our spirit gain strength through experiencing pains and sorrows.

It is difficult to let go. Even when my dad was pushing me away toward my mother, and as my mother took me into the apartment, I clung to my dad's leg and then struggled to free myself from my mother's grasp so I could return to him who was rejecting me. I understand the whole scenario now, and how it looked to those adults. However, the poetry of the whole thing wasn't fully appreciated by them, or me, at the time. If my father hadn't rejected me, I would have stayed with him forever. There is too deep a thread in this for me to discuss in depth on a blog page, but suffice it to say I have issues... haha. If I'm not rejected, I will stay and be whatever is needed to be allowed to stay. If I'm rejected, well... I expected that anyway. Sort of sick, I know... but that's me.

I guess that's why it's been so hard for me to leave Texas to come here to Colorado. Daniel has work here and a family needs to be together... so here we are. After living in Texas the greater part of 30 years, it's been tough. I feel like I have one foot on the dock and one in the boat. There are so many people I didn't want to leave. It has been painful for me. People who wish I would stay, people who love me, people who are sad to see me go: these people make it so difficult because I don't know how to move on... I don't feel like I really want to make new friends. I want to run back and cling to the legs of my old friends.

I've never let go on my own before. My dad was taken away against my will...his death was difficult for me, as well. My brother was shot to death in the other room from where I was. My sister was killed by a drunk driver. My mother died suddenly. My daughter stopped breathing in the middle of the night... Not to complain, but to illustrate my unwilling partings in life. I've only had people wrenched away from me... Maybe I'm not so different than anyone else. I don't know. I only know myself and that I don't know how to reconcile a final good-bye.

I continue to feel a sense of denial... like this is not the end of anything I want to keep. Where is my mother to drag me away?

A Retraction

2010-09-02T16:59:00.000-07:00

In a previous post I suggested that people are like campfires; cozy in a relationship at the proper distance... Get too close, and you might get burned. I've rethought that position and here is my the result of my ponderation:

When a person has reached his or her full potential as a spiritual being, one should be able to stand in the middle of the figurative campfire without harm. Shadrack, Meshack and Abidnago all stood in the midst of a firey furnace and came out without harm. Not a hair of their heads was singed. On an emotional and spiritual level, is it not possible, then, to figuratively stand within the flames of a relationship and not be burned when the one with whom one relates is offensive?

I feel very sure it must be possible to relate in a Christlike manner to someone who is unkind, rude, and sarcastic. My method until now has been to back away from such people, and to not relate to them very closely. For general acquaintances, this may be acceptable, however, when dealing with members of one's extended family, family or origin or family by marriage, this is not acceptable, in my view.

Trials in relationships can either divide us from each other or bind us more closely together. When I was a kid, and my shoestring broke, I tied the ends together so as to still be able to make us of the thing. Yes, there was an ugly knot there, but my shoe was tied and I could go on my way.

In relationships, sometimes we have to do something similar to keep it together. Somebody has to take special care to keep the functionality. If the other person doesn't do it, then I must be the one to do it. You must do it: be the one to bind you together. Many times, the best way to do this is to refuse to stay offended. Apologize even if you think you've done nothing wrong. Mean it. After all, if there is strife, everyone involved should feel sorry for it; for whatever has been said or done to cause upset in the other person, even if the thing was imagined or unintentional.

I believe it is intended that we maintain and build loving relationships with our family members. Beginning with our immediate family, then radiating outward, learning to grow healthy relationships is an exercise in the pursuit of personal excellence. Cultivating the ability to stand close to someone who is difficult is cultivating the ability to love without condition. It is easier to love a difficult family member from a distance, but no personal growth will occur if such is the case.

I can love and respect a tread mill from a distance, but unless I get on it and make it work, I will never truly grow because of my relationship with it.

If 'he sits as a refiner and purifier of silver' as the scripture says, then should I seek to escape the flames of Him who would purify me? If it is a difficult task, should I stand far enough away so as not to master it?

When I can stand in the middle of the flame and walk away without a hair of my head having been singed, then I have become the person I was designed to be.

If it were easy to love everybody, we wouldn't have to be commanded to do it. "A new commandment I give unto you; that you love one another, as I have loved you."

And if it were easy, we wouldn't have to be told to endure to the end.

These are some of the thoughts in my brain tonight.

How Deep Are My Roots?

2010-08-29T18:44:00.000-07:00

Years ago a storm blew through Harwood, Texas. I believe it may have been 1993, but don't quote me on that. The day before, two identical peach trees stood in the yard of Clint and Julie Fairchild; neighbors of mine to the West. I remember when the Fairchilds planted those two trees several years earlier, and now, in May of that year, they both were laden with fruit. Both were mature and beautiful trees.

No one may have ever known how the two trees differed if the storm had not come to town that year. The day after the winds howled and the rains came down in sideways sheets, only one of the trees was standing. The other was laying on its side, uprooted and dying. One survived the storm; the other did not. What was the difference? The roots.

A tree with roots sunk deep into the earth is more likely to withstand the storms that rage. A tree with shallow roots is more likely to topple in the wind... And what good is a dead tree? What fruit does it offer next season? What does it matter that last year it was beautiful if now, and tomorrow and forever from now it will bear no fruit? Even if the toppled tree could have been salvaged: severely pruned and root cut, replanted and nourished for years to come; it would, at best, be many, many years until it could again bear fruit, if it ever could again.

How much are we like trees. We must ask ourselves how deep are our roots? When someone we trusted lies to us, when we lose our jobs, when we feel let down by those whom we had counted as friends, when we thirst and there is no one who gives us drink, when we hunger and no friend gives us meat, when we are in prison and no one comes to visit... when the storm comes to our town, will we stand or fall?

There is only one sure way to remain safely rooted when the storms of life blow. When no one can support your wavering limbs; when there is no strength in your trunk to withstand the gale upon you-- He who planted the trees and caused them to grow; He who calms the wind and causes the waters to still; He who knows your sorrows and pain-- only He can help you survive the storms.

When you are deeply rooted in the Gospel of Jesus Christ, you will remain connected to the earth that gives you life. You will remain standing to bear fruit in the season thereof and will continue to give strength, nourishment and shelter to those who depend upon you for strength. As you are rooted in Christ, so others may find strength in you. The goodness and strength they find in you is a reflection of Him who is the author of your strength and goodness.

Remain deeply rooted in Christ so as to be found standing at the last day, after the storm has passed.

Avoidance

2010-08-16T22:50:00.000-07:00

I had a weird experience today that has caused me to reflect on what I might want to avoid in the future. I invited some people to share in an activity with some of my kids and me in a public venue. One of those whom I had invited said some things to me in front of other guests and my children that should have been discussed in a more private setting.

I was concerned about the subject matter, yes. However, after pondering the whole situation, I came to more fully realized that the root of my upset about the whole thing was that it happened in front of my kids and others. What was discussed should have been discussed privately.

I thought, at first that I should avoid anything that may upset my guest. Now I have come to think I should avoid keeping company with those who show little prudence and who see the world through a negative lens.

It's possible I am blind to some ugly things. It's possible I am ignorant to some sad and unfortunate things. But, I prefer to see beauty in the world where I can. I prefer to be friendly. I prefer to smile and share love with my brothers and sisters here on this magnificent earth over which the Lord has made us stewards.

I've been blessed to learn the value of avoidance. I've learned though brief encounters with too many people I love that mortal life is finite. I will spend the days of my life loving those who cross my path in the best way I know how. I will try to have a charitable heart toward those I encounter... and I will avoid worry over what is in the heart of my neighbor.

After all, I am only the master of my own heart. I can't control what is in the heart of my brother or sister... or neighbor or friend. I can, however, avoid too close contact with anyone who may not share my perspective nor desires.

I can avoid allowing my soul to be cankered by anything anyone may say or think and by anyone's inconsideration.

That avoidance is my hope and goal. That is my prayer for tonight.

Ambivilence

2010-08-12T08:05:00.000-07:00

It's been so much fun this summer,though the time is growing short. It always amazes me how quickly time passes. Today, if what might have been had come to pass; we would celebrate Heather's 20th birthday. Instead, those of us who are able, remember her and think about what might have been.

I was talking to a sweet friend of mine who recently gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. She told me her relationship with her infant daughter has been touched by my remembrances of Heather and my relationship with her. If you are curious as to how that may be, you may read some of my blog posts from last year or so to get an idea. It is very meaningful to me that Heather's life, though a brief moment on earth, touched Baby's life.

With the lives of all of my children: though the moments of their lives spent under my roof seem brief, their impact on my life has been profound. Philip will leave here on September 7th. I remember the day I first put him to my breast like it was yesterday. How can it be that 19 years have gone? He has been such a joy. I'm so grateful for the time I've had to raise him. I know it's not over, by any means... people always need their mother in some way... I missed my mother today, even. This is the first time I haven't been able to call her just to weep a little with her on Heather's birthday...

I am so happy for the excitement in the various stages of life of all of my children. I wouldn't trade this life for any other. It is a bitter-sweet experience, though: I'm so happy for all of what it is... all of what it has been; and I'm beginning to feel the sadness in realizing how it all passes so quickly... how so much of it has passed already.

As I just had to pause to call Emily to come get the cinnamon she left out, take it from Josh, put it away and vacuum the mess out of the carpet, my mind is taken back to a time I found Daniel Jr. (then two or so) laying in the family room floor with the nub of a hand-crafted candle my brother had brought back to me from
Germany... Daniel had taken small bites of the candle, then spit each one out. It must have been a calming activity that had gone on for several minutes because the candle was half of what it had been and there were little bites of wax ALL around Daniel who was fast asleep in the middle of it all, clutching the remains of my hand-carved, hand-painted, German-scenery-engraved, irreplaceable candle.

My grandmother always said: When you have kids, that what you have!

How true... and thank goodness. I wouldn't have it any other way.

They say this life on earth is but a breath in an eternal existence. All of the living we do here, when considered in that capacity, might be likened to the time we have to enjoy a few moments under the water in the pool, until the next breath... a brief moment.

What we do with that moment is what makes all the difference. A phrase from an old song comes to mind: Love life; live it well.

May we all.

Too soon comes the end of summer...

2010-07-21T10:30:00.000-07:00

My son Philip will report to the LDS mission training center on 8 September 2010 to serve a two year full time mission in San Bernardino California. I will miss him. Many people have told me it will be more difficult than I think to be parted from him for two years, with only email contact and two phone calls per year. I'm sure they are right. It will be difficult... but...

Most people I know haven't experienced the death of a child. I know three other women personally who've lost a daughter, as I have lost one to death in childhood. My mother would have made four, but she is gone now.

Knowing your child is parted from you for the duration of mortal existence is painful. There is hope, of course, through the atoning sacrifice of Christ, but death still retains her sting to a degree difficult to bear.

On 9 September it will have been twenty years since my husband carried the small casket in his arms from the country church in Harwood, Texas to the cemetery in the field beyond the church-yard fence. It has been a lifetime to some since we laid her small body beneath the earth in wait for the resurrection. It has been so long and still I miss her; I miss what might have been. I see young women her age and wonder how Heather would look, whether or not we would be best friends and if she would still be living at home while she attended the local college or if she'd be married and living out of state.

All things are relative, you see. Yes, I will miss my very beloved son, Philip. I will miss him. But he and I have a choice in this very temporary parting. We are prepared. We know the exact time of his departure and an estimated time of his return. Knowing and planning and willingly participating in such a choice makes all the difference.

I have no other frame of reference for such things as 'Good-bye' than is afforded me of my life's experiences. What is 'Good-bye' anyway? We say it when we leave for work. We say it when we leave the grandparent's house to come home from summer vacation. Only when we didn't have the chance to say all we wanted before an unexpected good-bye is thrust upon us is it a painful good-bye. An unexpected and early good-bye is nearly unbearable sometimes.

When August is here, we know the summer is drawing to an end. There is time to prepare and make ready. True, it comes sooner than we think, but we know it is coming. It doesn't sneak up on us in the night, like death sometimes does. A well thought out and well planned good-bye is sometimes tearful, but not unbearable. I think my good-bye to Philip will be difficult, but it will certainly not be the most difficult good-bye I've ever had to say.

At the end of this summer I will embrace my fully grown son and look into his eyes and tell him I love him as we say 'good-bye'. I will see into his soul and know, as he looks into mine, that he knows I love him without reservation nor doubt. He will be ready to leave and I will be ready to let him go... though with tears, I'm sure.

I think, mainly, what is the most painful in all of this raising children business is the realization that it will certainly come to an end. My children will all grow up and leave this house. One of these days I will be an old woman with no little children playing dress up and Wii in the other room while I blog. My house will be quiet and I'll remember these, the best days of my life; when all of them were home and needing me more than they will when they're grown.

While the summer lingers, I am enjoying the moment. I'm grateful for the river, Fiesta Texas, the swimming pool, the dollar theater and the back yard fire pit. I'm so grateful for the time the Lord has given me to share my life with those I love. I'm grateful for the lessons learned through early good-byes.

I'm grateful for the days of summer and to know their numbers... though the days of it pass so quickly and the end of it is coming soon.

2010-07-13T07:19:00.000-07:00

25 Years... I can't believe it...

2010-06-22T20:41:00.000-07:00

When my husband and I got married 1 June 1985, my mother bet my aunt $5 that we wouldn't make it a year. It's been 25 years, as of 1 June 2010 and I am wondering if my aunt ever collected?

Life is a continual climb. If anything worthwhile were easy, we wouldn't have to be commanded to endure to the end, now would we? To endure is not the same as 'sit back and enjoy to ride'. Endure hints of difficulty. Marriage can be difficult. But, no question, it has been well worth the effort.

I once told my husband that the relationship between him and me has been the most difficult relationship I've ever had. But, I told him, it is the one through which my greatest joys have been realized. It is the relationship that has brought me the most happiness and fulfillment.

I've said before that relationships are like camp fires; Cozy at the proper distance, but you can get burned if you get too close. You have to know where the boundaries are. I think I'm re-thinking my position on that one. In general, it is a good idea to establish safe boundaries in relationships. But, in marriage, the boundaries are so close to each other, it sometimes seems impossible to not get a little burn now and again... or even to never 'burn' him. After all, where does he end and I begin?

How can two people 'in twain' be one if not very close to each other?
While we each work out our salvation and grow into the people the Lord would have us become, there will inevitably be growing pains. I think it must be a part of the package. As long as life's decisions are made in consideration of righteous principles, all is well.

Daniel and I have had so much of a happy life together. I'm so grateful for the wonderful life we've had so far. I wonder if the next 25 years will pass in a breath, as well?

What is Joy?

2010-05-05T20:49:00.000-07:00

Many women spend years of life searching for what they believe is happiness. We feel unfulfilled or unappreciated, and often less-than-swept off of our feet by our husbands after many years of marriage and wonder if life was meant to be more than this?

It is easy to seek and find joy in motherhood. But, what about when the children are grown and gone? So many years of life are centered around raising children while they are growing, as well life should be during those years. However, if it's done right, a marriage is intended to last at least until death do you part, if I recall correctly from all of the weddings I've attended over the years. If husbands and wives are joined in the Everlasting Covenant of Marriage, as is availed to us within the walls of the Temple of the Lord, then marriage, if it's done right, is intended to last into the eternities, for what God hath joined together, let not man put asunder.

Considering the eternal prospect of marriage, it is wise to not lose sight of that which will be our primary relationship into the golden years of life, and beyond. We often (unwisely), become complacent in marriage. As women, we hold the keys to our own happiness. Even so, some women begin to feel disenchanted in marriage after many years... not that anything in particular is wrong; a woman may simply feel lacking in romantic love; she may feel like she's not living life to her potential or that she's missing out on something more...

It has been my personal experience in life that too many times women fall into the habit of becoming lazy in their service and giving of love to their husbands, and this always leads to unhappiness in the woman and many negative feelings such as those mentioned above. In cases where the husband is abusive, mentally ill, or otherwise unhealthy, all bets are off. But, if you're married to a healthy, generally well balanced human being, you'll find that most men are generally easy to please. It has been said that it is hard to find a good man... but it's not hard to keep one. This is true... and when a woman feels like the romance is over, it's too often the case that she's done that to herself.

Husbands need verbal appreciation, physical communication of love, and they need to be needed by their women. They need to be served by their wives in ways only a wife can serve her husband.

We've all heard that: The way to a man's heart is through his stomach. I know this is very cliche', but those old sayings aren't old sayings for nothing. I used to laugh at a cartoon my kids used to watch called 'Hey Arnold' in which a lazy character, Mr. Kakoshka (sp?) would say to his wife: Suzie! If you love me... make me a sandwich! It was silly, yes, but there is a thread of real man sentiment in that. Most men feel loved when fed by their wives. It's more like food for their soul... as my son likes to say.

A gift that Father in Heaven has given to women is that gift which brings joys to our hearts when we are engaged in the service of others. This is the root of the nurturing instinct of mothers. It is important to nurture our husbands as well. Not as you would a child, of course, for men need to be respected as the strong, masculine, amazingly wonderful beasts that they are. But, men do need to be nurtured by their wives in appropriate ways. By loving and accepting your husband, emotionally and physically, you serve him in a way he desperately needs, and in a way only you can. If you ever turn your husband away because you have a headache or are too tired to show him the love he needs from you, it is my position that you are rejecting 'one of the least of these, my brethren' as the Lord cautioned us not to do. If your child came crying to you for a hug, you would not turn him away. You would embrace him and kiss away his tears. Your husband will not likely come crying to you for attention. Do I need to go on?

Only a wife can righteously fulfill the innermost needs of her husband that are rudimentary to his being a man. God created man in His own image. Never forget that. There is nothing wrong with a man's need for his wife. He was made that way. And you, as his wife, were made to complete him. You both are intended to complete each other; you, in twain shall be one.

The wonderful blessing in all of this selfless service to meet the needs of your husband is that it truly does bring joy to the heart of the woman who serves her husband. Just as loving and serving a child who needs his mother brings indescribable joy to the heart of a mother; loving and serving a husband with willingness and gratitude brings joy to the heart of a wife. Expression of loving words, touching with love, serving with love, expressing gratitude; these all speak love to your husband clearly, and he needs it more than you may know... And you will discover that when you lose yourself in the service of your husband, you will find yourself.

In a world where so many women are seeking for fulfillment and not finding it, let us look to our homes and our husbands to find the joy in womanhood that so many of us feel is missing. It is my experience that the more you serve someone, the more you love them. You don't have to feel the love first... though most of us do feel the 'in love' feeling which leads to marriage in the first place. Yet, after years of marriage, you can find a deeper, longer lasting love growing through the 'in love' that was there at the start. The love that grows out of giving, serving and nurturing your husband is far sweeter and enduring than any other.

So, yes! If you feel unfulfilled; life WAS meant to be more than this. So, let us be about the work of making it more than it is. Let us rise to the occasion. Nothing worth having comes easy. Let us fulfill the role of womanhood in our homes, not just as loving and righteous mothers, but as loving and righteous and joyful wives.

On Wandering

2010-04-08T13:26:00.000-07:00

You’d think I have it figured out-
I’ve seen this place before.
No stranger is my broken heart
Nor tears upon the floor.

Yet, here I am adrift
Where no sun falls, neither rain-
And know too long the time will pass
‘Till all is well again.

How strange it is that I am lost
In such a place as this
How odd to be a stranger;
Lost and wand’ring in the mist.

Like seas unchartered, though I should
Have known the waters well,
(I’ve been here more than once, you see,
More than I’d like to tell.)

Can any tame this shadow land?
Can any find his way?
Can any find the speedy course
That leads from night to day?

You’d think I know these answers,
Having traveled here before.
I do recall, though vaguely, now
A distant, sunny shore.

Life and the Dandelion Field

2010-03-26T06:46:00.001-07:00

Although dandelion greens and roots are good for food, (my sister and her ex-husband used to 'harvest' them), I don't like for them to grow in my yard. Something about dandelions, they are relatively easy to pull. They do have those spiky leaves, but if you get underneath the whole of the leaves, the thorns point slightly upward and you can mostly avoid the prickles and pull the whole thing, simple root system and all. There is one main root that grows downward and a bunch of little root off-shoots, but it's a pretty easy weed to rid yourself of... unless...

Sometimes we're tempted to just mow down the dandelions when we cut the grass early in the season. This is a mistake. Although the weeds aren't noticeable for a time, the root remains. The root grows while the top of the weed regenerates. When you finally get around to really 'weeding' and pull the weed from the ground, you find shorter, more prickly leaves, with sharper thorns, and a deeper, thicker root, with many more, secondary roots growing in any number of directions. It's more difficult, at this point, to get the whole of the root out of the ground... and if you don't, it will just grow back. Also, the flowers grow more quickly once you 'prune' the top of the plant. This means the plant will more quickly, and less obviously, make seed pods to spread the little weed all over your yard and your neighbors' yards; wherever the wind blows.

Such is life. The parallel can easily be drawn between dandelions in the field and spiritual dandelions in us. Pick your vice. Ignore it, hide it for a while...it will only quietly grow where no one sees. When the time comes that you get serious about conquering your weeds, the more difficult it'll be to get to the bottom of it all and root it out of yourself.

These are some of the things I think about when I'm sitting in the yard, with an empty laundry detergent bucket and a butter knife, yanking those prickly little plants out of my field of St. Augustine grass. I spent three hours one day a couple weeks ago... an hour yesterday, and I'm still not done with the front yard. That's only the front yard.

It's tedious, constant work. But if I don't do it, who will? Does anybody care more about my yard than I do? I guess the neighbors can all see when I neglect it. Sometimes people are like that They see our shortcomings... sometime, even those we choose to ignore, or we can't see. But I can't remember a time when a neighbor came to pull my dandelions. They are mine to pull. I guess I could invite their help. I wonder how that would work? It generally doesn't work that way.

I suppose if I prefer St. Augustine grass, I should continue to work at it.

Otherwise, I'll find I have only a field of dandelions.

The Question of Sharing

2010-03-18T19:01:00.000-07:00

A sweet friend of mine has asked how I teach my children to share. Well... I had to think about that one. Here are a few positions my husband and I agree upon, which positions our children accept as the way it is. It was comforting to me when Gordon B. Hinckley said something to the effect that we are stewards over our wealth. We do not own it. It belongs to the Lord. And one of these days we will have to answer to the Lord for the way in which we exercised our stewardship over our riches.

So-- here are some basic principles accepted by the Windham Family:

1. This is the house the Lord allowed Dad and me to provide for the use of our family. It is not your house.
2. This is a bedroom in the house the Lord has allowed Dad and me to provide. It is not your bedroom. It is my bedroom, or Dad's, if it belongs to anyone here.
3. These are clothes purchased with money I earned/Dad earned. They are for your use. They are not yours. If to anyone, they belong to Dad and me.
4. These are not your toys. They are toys purchased with money the Lord allowed us to earn for the care of our family. We offer gifts to you on special occasions because giving and receiving make us all feel happy. It is about the giving and receiving. If some gifts were given to you from other people, remember, IN THE STATE of TEXAS: no minor child may own real property. (I know that sounds funny, but it's true... the last time I looked, anyway.) So when you, the child, say, "Mine," you are actually mistaken. You do not own anything. I own it. Under Texas law, it is mine. And I say we share.
5. The other children in this house are children of Heavenly Father, as are you. I have stewardship over them, as well as you. I expect these children, including you, to be treated with love and care. This goes for their treatment from adults, as well as from other children. This means you all treat each other the way you would treat the Savior.

Now-- some of these may seem to be some hard things to say to children, but I have said these things to my children more than once over the years. They are simply statements of fact, if you were to ask any of my children old enough to think in abstract terms.

Now, how to teach children to share, without infringing upon their agency, that is a question I've been asked more than once. To that, I would have to ask: is it a matter of the child's choice that he take antibiotic if he is ill? Is it his choice whether or not he is educated? Is it his choice whether or not he hits his sister or brother? Is it his choice whether or not to use profane language?

When a tree is planted in your yard, you must stake it on at least two sides, better three sides, for a couple of years to make sure the trunk grows straight up, and not on a crooked slant. Also, when a wild wind blows, an un-staked tree may be uprooted, even. Children are the same. The must be 'staked'; best if staked by two parents and the Lord. Children need to be trained in the way they should go. The natural man, or child, does not easily follow the straight and narrow path that leads to eternal life. All people must be taught to keep desires, appetites and passions within righteous boundaries. Where the line is, so far as 'controlling' your child is up to you, the parent. Never should the boundary set by parents be outside the boundary set by the Lord.

Remember, though, parents cannot fully control children. Any parent of little children knows that. Aside from physical restraint, we can only make it known to our children what is acceptable to us, and what is not. The possible consequences of our acceptance and our non-acceptance is a topic for another discussion.

Suffice it to say, parents are in the business of persuasion. There are many methods of persuasion. My sweet friend described a very effective method by which she speaks to one child in such a way as to suggest a positive course of action to another child, who is listening (hopefully :) nearby. This is often very effective. Many children between about 3 or 4 years of age and around 6 or 7 will very often take such cues and will make a good choice because they want acceptance and approval of the adult. Younger children may not get the hint, and older children may feel empowered by going against the recognized abstract suggestion.

It has been my experience that very young children don't feel possessive of particular items, generally. They do, however, want to take things from other children. This makes them feel powerful. They are discovering what will happen if they grab, or run when called, or any other number of 'naughty' little things they do... which is really kind of cute... sorry, but my very last baby is almost two... I can't help it. I just think that ornery behavior is so very endearing. It is a good time, for the child, developmentally, to teach them to not grab toys or other items from other children/people. Regardless of the item, a child should learn to not grab from others. Some may disagree. I would be open to an argument supporting grabbing, but have never come across one, yet, with which I have been able to agree.

After a toddler has learned to not grab: telling him 'we don't grab' or 'no, no' or whatever you do... while having him give back the item... then preempting him before he does it again and redirecting his attention, if you can; it is easier to teach a pre-school aged child to share. If someone has something that belongs to him, and he wants it back, he is able to accept that someone else has it right now. After explaining to the other child that the item 'is special' for whatever reason, the item can usually be easily retrieved and put away, if the 'owner-child' doesn't want to share.

Everything we have belongs to the Lord. Stewardship is our calling, not ownership. I believe this is the underlying principle we must teach our children.

Please understand, I've come to my views through my attendance at the school of hard knocks. I have worked in schools and daycare centers. I've cared for children from birth to adulthood and have interacted closely with many children who come from a variety of home-life situations in which an array of parenting techniques were employed, but I'm not a professional.

I've often said we must raise our children with great care, because one of these days, when they're 30, they're going to write their autobiographies... and we'll be in them. That's a little tongue and cheek, but there is truth in it. I have only my own adult sons to ask how I'm doing so far. For now, I think we're OK. If I've made any horrible mistakes, they haven't realized it, yet... I'm still not out of the woods, though... I still have 6 more to go!

Don't forget: All children are unique. What seems to be working for me, may not work for everyone. And remember about Sally Windham: she is very opinionated. She always thinks she's right...

In her defense... in my defense: I learned how to cook by reading cookbooks. I learned about business management and finance by reading books and government web sites. I've learned a lot from reading books and from talking to people.

I'm still learning how to be a wife and have been learning for 25 years by reading a long list of books over the years, including the scriptures and the writings of ancient and modern prophets and by asking my Heavenly Father to help me discern between good information and bad.

And I am still learning to parent in the same way.

Our whole lives on this beautiful earth are about growth and development. What a blessing it is that we have so many years to do it! How grateful I am for the years we have to raise our children and to grow with them.

Is anything in this whole world better or more fulfilling than being a mother?

I haven't found it.

Mine!

2010-03-14T08:12:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer: the statements contained in this article are the views of the writer developed over a 27 year period in childcare, early childhood education and by way of living life as a mother of 9 children. No offense is intended. Every child and parent is different and it is the view of the writer that God specifically matches each child to his parents. He will and does provide guidance to each parent as to how to best rear his or her own children by the power and direction of the Holy Ghost, if parents will seek His guidance. No counsel nor philosophy should take the place of this divine guidance.

Having said that:

There are many philosophies relative to children and their 'things'. One school of thought is that children feel comforted and gain a sense of security in possessions. When a child says: that's mine! and is able to claim physical possession of an item from another child, some believe it is a manifestation of self-affirmation and is related to the growth of confidence in the child taking the item while stating the obvious: Mine.

Especially when a child lives in a family with few sibling, this approach to child rearing may lead to a selfish child who values material possessions more than human relations. A child developing in such a small family often spends fewer hours in the company of other children, and thus has fewer opportunities to practice sharing.

When a child grows up learning that items are secondary to people, he learns to value his relationships with siblings and other children more than he values his toys/possessions. He learns to care about the feelings of the people in his life, and those who cross his path more than retaining a toy to himself. He learns sacrifice.

Teaching a child to share teaches him selflessness; a Christlike character trait.

This is not to say some special or very personally valuable items should not be cared for with special attention. However, a child, even a very young child, can understand the idea that if you don't want to share, put the item away before friends come to play. Even the young child can learn patience, as well, as he waits for, perhaps an unexpected visiting child to play with a desired item, then, when his turn comes, he may put the item away, if desired.

It is important for children to have a safe storage place of their own. A shelf, a small trunk, or even a drawer may serve as a place to keep special keepsake items. These items, though, should be special to the child for sentimental reasons. For instance, a handmade gift from a special relative or something given on the occasion of a baptism or something of that nature would be valuable, regardless of the purchase price.

Children should be taught the old Mexican philosophy: Mi case es Su casa. In the English translation: My house is your house. A child taught to open his heart to those to whom his home is also opened, is taught an important lesson in ministering to his neighbor. If Christ were to visit his home, would his parents allow him to take an item from the Savior's hand and say, 'Mine,' I ask you? Does not the scripture say: Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto Me?

This is the philosophy with which loving, giving, and self-sacrificing children are raised to adulthood; when parents teach their children to love their brother as themselves; to lay not up treasures in the earth, where moth and rust doeth corrupt and where thieves break through and steal...

Children are best served by parents who teach them to lay up treasures in heaven... for where their treasure is, there will their hearts be also.

When Turning the Page

2010-02-28T19:07:00.000-08:00

It occurred to me when speaking with my brother the other day that I've forgotten to walk forward after having closed a door behind me...It's like I stepped beyond the door and now, I'm just standing here, not knowing where to go.

My mother has recently passed away and so the chapter in my life in which she plays a current role is passed. I have been very busy closing that door neatly; making sure I'm OK; making sure the kids are OK; making sure I call my sister to see if she's OK... It's like when I'm running out of the house, going back a couple of times to get my purse, get the snack, get the sipper cup... On the last trip out the door, I have to make sure nothing gets caught as it closes. I carry an envelope in my teeth that needs to be mailed, I have a book under my arm that needs to go back to the library, I have a bag of clothes ready for the donation drop box hanging from my wrist; none of these will I catch in that door as it closes behind me. I'm pretty good about getting out the door without dropping anything or getting snagged...

I'm reading a book my son, Levi got me into... actually it's that "Percy Jackson and the Olympians" series... believe it or not. When I am in bed at night, on a night I feel up to reading, I read until I find myself dozing off. Sometimes I fall asleep in the middle of a page and in the morning I don't remember what page I was on last. Mostly, I try to remember to mark the page before I close the book, though. I like to read at least to the end of the right hand page, turn the page, then put a marker in there so next time, I know I'm at the top of the next page.

Simple method. Turn the page, make sure my marker is in place, begin again tomorrow. Getting back to life: It seems to me I have done an OK job getting to the end of the page in the chapter called "The Life of Me With My Mother in It"... I mean, I've been careful to give myself all of the allowances for which the circumstances call, as far as I can see the needs. Now, I feel like I'm picking up my life after having fallen asleep; I don't know where I was before. I mean, I do, but I'm having a hard time getting to the place where I feel I definitely am sure I had a clue.

When someone you love dies, the sun continues to rise in the East. It doesn't matter that you think it should not. People still blurb the news on TV. Nobody in the wide world outside of your head stops what they're doing to offer a moment of silence. It's your grief; your sorrow; your silence. Without your choice in the matter, the pages turn and the story unfolds.

It's a good thing the sun does rise, though. It's a good thing the world continues to rotate on its axis. It is wisdom in God that our hearts beat without our willing them to. It is a blessing that time heals wounded hearts in a measure.

It's a kindness to us that the wind blows and pages turn without our consent, at times. If we had our way, time would not pass as it does and people wouldn't get old or sick and nobody would die and leave us grieving. It is out of our hands. If no pages turned, the fullness of the story would be left untold.

It is best both to read and to live life when one is aware and alert. It is best to remember where you are in the story, to enjoy it as it is meant to be enjoyed, and to not take for granted that tomorrow, if you drift away in to sleep, you can pick up where you left off. Sometimes, you can't.

Now I am here. The rains have settled the soil atop my mothers grave. The stone is in place. The belongings are out of Aunt Fran's house where my mother used to live. The bills are paid and nothing is left undone... except now, I need to remember how I was living life before: those days when I didn't think about picking up the phone and calling my mom... how did I do it before? I know there were lots of days I forgot to think of her at all... now, I think about her every day.

The 'School of Hard Knocks' is a tough place to learn your lessons... and the joker is (as my mom used to refer to the 'joker'), the joker is that you don't even know you need a lesson until you get one, whether you wanted it or not.

I'll have to think about it some more... not like it will change anything about yesterday... but maybe it will make a difference in tomorrow...

How Long is the Road

2010-01-19T10:42:00.000-08:00

Since 2003, when I moved away from Harwood, Texas, I've been back to visit family only a few times each year. The reasons for my leaving my childhood hometown were sound and I have no regrets, and though six years away have brought me back only a dozen times or so, I have visited Harwood more times in the passed two weeks than I have in the passed two years.

The road between my house and Grandma's house is long, winding and rough. It passes through two small Texas towns with miles of two-lane old Texas roadway in between. Over hills, around curves, passed cattle, horses and chicken farms; it takes about an hour to get to Grandma's house. It is such a chore to get all of the kids ready to go; snacks, diapers and wipes, a movie to watch on the way, a bottle for the baby, and don't forget the football and air-soft guns... it is a long road between here and Grandma's house, and when we get there, we all need something to do after the first few minutes of visiting in the small front room of the old stick built house.

The boys like to place sticks and rocks on the railroad tracks that run through town a block from Grandma's house. They shouldn't do it... but you know boys. I don't try to stop them. I used to do that when I was a kid. I swear those empty box cars were there the last time we came.

In Grandma's freezer are a half dozen types of ice cream and popsicles. Now and then a little one will whisper in my ear, "Can we have some, yet?" to which I reply, "Not until we get ready to go... now go play."

"I don't care, Sally. Let them have some," says Grandma.
"No, Mom. They can wait," I always say.

When it's time to get ready for the trip home, she always says, "Let them eat as much as they want, Sally. I don't need to have all that ice cream in there." But the next time we come, she has more. That's OK with the kids. They eat all they want every time and that magical freezer never fails to supply endless ice cream and popsicles.

It is such a long ride home. There are a couple of alternate routes, though. One way the kids like to travel is by way of "Ivy Switch". It is a dirt and gravel road that travels parallel to the rail road track for several miles. If you travel just about 50 miles per hour over one particular place on that road, heading north, you can almost catch air coming up out of a low place in the road. The kids call it the 'bump road'. One time, last summer, we were coming home from Harwood and I took Ivy Switch. After somebody hit their head on the ceiling of the van, I told the kids the next two times we came to see Grandma, we were not going to come home via the bump road because somebody didn't wear their seat belt.

"Awe! No fair! It wasn't me, though! Dad-gum-it, Levi!"

"Too bad! Next time look out for each other and make sure everybody has on a seat belt."

What a long drive. Coming the last few miles between Lockhart and Kyle, the last trip over, I was pulled over for speeding. Did that officer know what a day it had been? He asked me why I was coming this way from Harwood. I told him it was faster than going the main road... he said it was only faster because I was speeding. Very funny. A warning, I hoped? Of course not. It's been a while since I took defensive driving, anyway.

Funny, driving to Harwood today... I don't remember the road so much. Most of the kids are in school today. Only two little ones in car seats and they weren't very fussy. The little country community seemed so dreary in the mist of an overcast morning. I drove an hour to see my niece, whom I haven't seen for a few years. She came all the way from Arizona. I wonder how many more trips to Harwood I will make to see family?

I visited my sister and niece for an hour, then drove the hour home. I was home before lunch time. I don't understand how I got there, visited and got home before lunch... it usually seems to consume the whole day to make a trip to Harwood. Strange.

Driving through the cemetery on the way out of town, seeing the dirt heaped high, thinking of the empty freezer in my sister's barn, wondering how those lonely box cars always seem to be stopped in time on the tracks in Harwood, Texas... I feel lonely driving away toward home. It is a long road home.

A Song for My Mother

2010-01-13T20:41:00.000-08:00

How I Love Her
by SRW

As the tired sun falls down
Long shadows lace the ground
And I wander to a time long passed away...

Dim evenings years since passed
Since my youth, long gone alas!
‘Twas a time my mother kissed all fear away.

Do I still see her dear face there
In the shadows near the chair
Where she held me close to sing me fast asleep?

Her quiet melody;
A special song she sang for me
In a tone so low, and slow and ever sweet...

Now time has long since flown.
Here am I alone
Only pondering the joy of long ago

When shadows held no fear
For me, with Mother near.
How I loved her, and I wonder... did she know?

October 22, 1987
revised 11 October 1999

I sang to my mother as she lay upon her death bed. It was a tender, sweet and spiritual experience for me. How grateful I am for those moments beside her bed to say good-bye. Many of my written works, through the years have been inspired by my mother. Mom's great work in this life was family history.

Keys to the Gate
by srw
30 Dec 1999

White robes flowing,
Faces glowing
With the joy and peace
Obedience brings.

Enter we slowly
This place high and holy
And soon fly nigh to Him
On Angels’ wings.

We look to sky
With the spirit’s clear eye
And see them
All gathered to wait--

Waiting for ever
For our lives’ endeavor
That they might have
Keys to the gate.

As I was born to my mother when she was 40 years old, I had the blessing of being raised by someone who knew when to worry and when to relax. Very few things were a 'big deal' with her. That has been beneficial to me in raising my own children. I came into this position already geared to 'not sweat the small stuff.' There is something to be said for having children when you're older... not that one should put off having children...but, as an 8th child in a family of 8 kids, I can attest to the benefits of having a more mature and experienced mother.

Look Back...Look Forth
by srw
2002

Looking back... she sees clearly
all the wrong turns she made.
Looking forth... she sees more clearly now
the road she must take.

Looking back... she remembers the laughter
of her small children now grown and gone away.
Looking forth... she hears laughter on the doorstep
as the next generation comes piling in for a moment.

Looking back... she was foolish at times...
and naive.
Looking forth... she has wisdom of years
and experience to guide her hands.

Looking back... she was beautiful of face and form,
and drew the attentions of many surface seekers.
Looking forth... she possesses a magnificence of character
that shines forth from deep within her soul,
drawing to her, like a magnet, people who are searching
for good in this world and finding it...in her.

I pray the Lord will help me to be the kind of mother in whom those seeking good in this world might find it. I pray that, as outer beauty fades, a magnificence of character might shine forth from deep within my soul to touch and, with love and gentleness, draw my children toward me for all of the days of my life and into the eternities.

I pray my Father in Heaven will help me not only to love this life, as I do... but to live it well.

I will miss my mother. Now I must remember to sing her songs to my own children and grand-children, that they may know her and love her, as well.

Aurale Huff, my mother, I love her, and it's so hard to say good-bye...

2010-01-13T07:52:00.000-08:00

Aurale (Lee) Huff
21 October 1927 – 9 January 2010
Aurale (Lee) Huff of Harwood, TX, passed away early Saturday morning at Seton Medical Center-Hays, in Kyle. Services were held at the Harwood Cemetery, Sunday, January 10, 2010. She was born in Harwood to Walter and Iva Huff and was preceded in death by her parents; two brothers, Walter Huff, Jr. and Wayne Huff; her sister, Martha Lewis; a son, John Holbrook; a daughter, Melinda Antuna, two granddaughters, Heather Windham and Carrie Antuna, and great-granddaughter, Kindra Albert.

Being mechanically inclined, at the age of 25, Lee rebuilt a Hillman-Minx automobile engine with no help other than instruction from her father, who had built airplanes in Harwood while she was a small child.

Lee learned her trade in the family newspaper business and, known as a “tramp printer,” travelled across the United States working in newspapers in Houston TX, San Francisco CA, Cincinnati OH, Detroit MI, Modesto CA, and San Antonio TX, where she was a Linotype operator, type-setter and, later, a computer operator. She was the first in her family to become a member of the International Typographical Union.

Lee was a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, where she played the piano, the organ, and taught Sunday School and Family History classes to others. She loved music. She was devoted to doing Family History in the church and was, at the time of her death an active full-time missionary serving as a family history consultant and guide to people from around the world who are searching for their roots. Lee has contributed volumes of information to the Family History Library in Salt Lake City, UT, which is now available online to the world. Her contributions to the family history records in both the Gonzales County Archives and the Luling Family History Center are available to all who seek the information and wish to continue the great work in which she was so eagerly and passionately engaged.

Lee is survived by six children: Jennie Conley of Idaho, Karel Holbrook of California, Peggy (spouse Michael) Aspinwall of Arizona, Philip (spouse Karin) of Colorado, Iva Antuna of Harwood and Sally (spouse Daniel) Windham of Kyle. She also leaves twenty-six grandchildren, thirty-three great-grandchildren, three great-great grandchildren; one brother, Wallace Huff of Ohio; two sisters, Rosemary Smith of Harwood and Frances DeChane of Michigan, and many nieces, nephew, cousins, and countless friends throughout the world. She was a wonderful mother, sister, and friend and she will be sadly missed.

Her Blanket

2009-12-11T07:38:00.000-08:00

When I was young, I liked to write. When I feel brave enough, I plan to post some of my stuff, from time to time. Here's something from somewhere in the 1980's or early 90's.

Her Blanket
by srw

She sat up all night long sewing her blanket. It was worn, for the years had been cruel. It had been red and purple, blue and gold--all of the colors one might find in a meadow on a sunny day in springtime. But now it was nearly all gray. The excitement of life almost all lived out of it.

When long ago she first sat down to piece it together, she was young and extraordinarily fair. Every boy in her small country town hoped that blanket would eventually be his. But she could see nothing in any of them...nothing to inspire the creation of such a magnificent blanket. No, she was crafting it, saving it for Him... the only boy who could draw from it every last drop of love and warmth...the only boy who could wrap himself up in it, head to toe... it was going to be His blanket.
And he would love it.

She wove each tiny stitch with tender care, each one tied with a kiss. The brilliant colors were given freely of herself. The red from her lips the color of rubies set in a promise ring. The deep blue of the oceans came from her eyes, and the spun gold from her flowing hair. There was also a majestic purple... the same you see at the foot of the mountains in Kentucky at the very moment the sun sets in the West... the purple came from the bruises left behind when he walked.

The blanket was her gift to him the day they said “forever” to each other so many nights ago. It was a beautiful thing to see-- and to feel. He wrapped it around himself twice. It covered his body and his soul. It took him in and in and in until, he realized, he couldn’t breathe. But it was too late now.

It was first torn a bit when he tried to escape... of course, he couldn’t. Even if he did, where would he go? At least here it was warm and safe. So he gave in to it. But the small scar was there. No matter-- she could fix it. She could sew anything with her needle and thread.

Through the ages of his life in her blanket, it became more and more difficult for him to see. It was very dark inside, only blurs of sickening color. Eventually he was able to shut them out. Then there was only the darkness. Finally, even the deep black lost itself inside and faded to gray in disappointment.

One day, as he stumbled along in the gray of the blanket, he chanced upon something new... something wide open and free. He leaned a little closer to get a better look, after all, his eyesight wasn’t what it used to be... after all those years in the smothering gray. The closer he examined, the more he could sense there was something he had never had before... something better than an old gray blanket... something he wanted....

It took just few suggestions for him to lay down the suffocating old rag and be freed. So now he was.

As he walked away into the cool wind, he glanced back only once to see her blanket lying in a heap upon the grass in his own back yard. As he passed beyond the foot of the purple mountains, he never missed it... or her. And he wouldn’t acknowledge the chill he felt somewhere inside himself now.

And the girl, once so fair, had no more ruby red upon her lips to give away for the mending of the blanket. Her eyes now pale and dim, and her hair now coarse and white... she only had left the purple with which to mend it. So late into the night, she sat upon her knees sewing a thread of majestic purple into the gray fabric of her blanket... the same color you see at the foot of the mountains in Kentucky at the very moment the sun sets in the West.

Charity's Birthday 2009

2009-12-10T21:28:00.000-08:00

Dearest daughter, Charity,

I'm thinking, now, that you are sleeping, about how I missed an important opportunity tonight. I missed your last eleven year old prayer. I was (am still) feeling poorly and didn't even remember to get your last eleven year old hug and kiss :( I did, just now, go into your room and wake you up a little bit to kiss you and hug you. You might not remember, though.

I feel so sorry I let that moment pass tonight-- to hear your prayers and to hug and kiss you while you were awake. You are so important to me and I love you so dearly, I feel sad I let a moment get away that can never be recaptured. It's like what we were talking about tonight-- how you never know how much time you have with someone, so you should cherish each moment. Time passes so quickly, and too soon you will be grown and married with your own children... believe it or not :)

I want you to know how much I love you, and how grateful I am that Heavenly Father sent you to me to be my daughter. You are such a blessing to me. You are so much like me in many ways. You are precious to Dad and me. I am thankful every day I have you in my life. I have never known a girl with such gifts, talents and intelligence as you have. You will accomplish many great works in your life, with the help and guidance of your Heavenly Father. Stay near to Him.

I hope you will always stay near to me, too. I love you with all of my heart.

Happy twelfth birthday.
Love, Mom

My Daughter

Thou came to me on winter's day
Crying, seeking warmth and care.
I loved thee well, and day by day
Thou grew up lovely, strong and fair.

Eyes that search and question 'why';
Lips that speak and sing and smile;
Hands that master all they try;
A heart in which is found no guile;

Daughter, still, I love thee well,
With depth and breadth no tongue can tell.
All that's joy in born in thee;
True to thy name, dear Charity.

A Woman's Day

2009-12-07T21:54:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: No offense is intended. Every circumstance in life requires unique measures to meet it's need. The writer, in no way, presumes to know the best course of action for every family situation. Only through careful prayer and consideration should any and all major family decisions be made.

Having said that:

I was talking with a sweet friend of mine tonight. I was reminded of something I read in a book once that all people need a strong relationship with a woman. For a man, this relationship is fulfilled with his mother, until he marries, then the fulfillment comes through his relationship with his wife... as it should be. A man shall leave his father and his mother and cleave unto his wife, right?

Not only does a man need a healthy relationship with a woman, but women, too, need each other. Lucky women find enrichment and contentment in their mother-daughter bond shared with their own mothers. Some women have a best friend. Some are content in the relationships they share with their adult daughters, as well. Some women can name a handful of 'best' friends.

Sometimes, a woman may find difficulty relating to other adult women. She may feel as if she doesn't quite fit in... like she's alone, or doesn't have friends.

Too many of our sisters feel alone in a crowd. Too many feel like misfits. We are all here in search of the same things. We are all searching for fulfillment in purpose. We need to know we are doing the right thing and that what we do matters. We need to feel validated and valued... and we all struggle with insecurities on some level.

Many women struggle to feel true joy, contentment, fulfillment and surety of purpose. Even when a woman is engaged in a great work, she will most likely doubt she is doing a good enough job.

Women worry they have offended someone. They worry they are too fat, too weak, too tall, too short... Women think they aren't smart enough, talented enough, motivated enough to get the job done like it should be. Women get offended because of something someone said or didn't say or do... because we think it is a reflection of ourselves.

Often, women feel their friends or neighbors don't value them or their works. This is very common in women who choose to work for love instead of money. This is something in particular I wish to address briefly, here.

There is a growing awakening to the fact that a woman's mission and purpose in this life is most fully realized when she, herself, nurtures, teaches, loves, and spends the bulk of the waking hours with her young children. Many women are striving to return to their children at home, instead of hiring someone to care for their children. It has been unpopular in society for many years for a mother to remain in the home with her children. The socially accepted act has been to pay a child caregiver to 'give care' to young children so their mothers could work outside the home for money.

I unequivocally state to any who read this article that no amount of money can purchase a suitable substitute for a mother's tender love and care to any child, of any age. Working for money is a lesser choice than work for love of a child. A woman must sacrifice popularity, in some cases; she must sacrifice pride or the esteem of her colleagues; she must sacrifice her position in society to stay. Stay home with the baby. Stay home with the toddler. Stay home. It is a sacrifice. Yes. But what is lost to the child when mother leaves him or her with a nanny or in the daycare center is what is sadly most lost in the trade if mother chooses what has been the socially accepted road.

A child cannot return to his youth to recapture his mother's attention. A woman, however, can return to the workforce or college when her child is grown, if she so chooses.

A child cannot climb into his mother's arms when both he and his mother are old. Only when a child is still young, can a mother embrace his small, clinging body, full pressed to her bosom and love him without the world getting in the way. When he is older and runs off to school, he will worry about what his friends might think if he kisses his mother good-bye... but when he is still so small, he gives kisses freely and gladly.

A little girl who loves to brush her mother's hair will soon begin to worry about how her own hair looks to those around her. But, when she is small, she will sit and brush, and tangle, and smooth her mother's hair without tiring. She plays pat-a-cake and sings the lull a-bye along with her mother... as best she knows how.

Just as a car cannot travel as far on 2.5 gallons of fuel as is does on a full tank, so a child cannot have his tank filled in a couple of hours in the evening. It takes hours, on a daily basis, to keep him full of the love he needs to travel the road that lays ahead.

The work performed within the walls of the home is that which changes the world. Although thankless, at times, and certainly unappreciated by many in society, nothing can substitute for a loving mother.

Do not feel alone. Do not feel devalued. Do not feel like you don't fit in. You are the maker of togetherness. You are the teacher of value. You are the root of belonging. You are the nurturer of mankind.

The day will come when your children will rise up and call you blessed. The day will come when the strength that emanated from your home; from the love given to your children, will be that which saves us all.

Truly, as it has been said: The family is the central unit of society. As the family goes, so goes the rest of the world.

In one day, world leaders may change our tax code or destroy our free markets. In the same day, a mother may wipe a bleeding knee, kiss a fevered forehead, read a spelling list or story book... the same day she prepares a meal for her family to share... the same day she kneels beside her child's bed to hear his prayer...In the life of a mother, it's just another day.

I submit that one well spent day in the life of a mother is a day better spent than in any other sort of life we may know.

So, for you, my sisters; I express my encouragement to you as you continue in your noble work, and I pray you may feel the blessings of our God upon you to guide your hands as you love and care for His children in your homes.

One final thought: regardless of your circumstances, as a woman, you are gifted with qualities of nurture and compassion. Never let discouragement or feelings of inadequacy keep you from using your gifts to bless the lives of others. When you forget yourself in the service of others, you will find what you may not have known you were looking for...

2009-11-29T17:33:00.000-08:00

And now-

2009-10-26T21:17:00.000-07:00

And now my son Philip is a senior in high school. He is an Eagle Scout. He is preparing to serve a two-year mission. Now he stands on the edge, ready to spread his wings and and fly. Not yet. Soon... but not quite yet... not today...

And now my sweet little five year old girl, Emily is at the beginning... kindergarten... while Philip is a senior. Strange to think how many years have blown by since I began motherhood. If I stand back and look at my children as a group... it seems there are quite a few. I understand how some may perceive my family that way. I have to make myself step back to see it, though. I don't normally stand back. I am usually up close. That's the way I like it. That's how mothering works best: Up close...Up close, they don't look like many children. Up close, they look like individuals.

I know each one personally. I know the kind of cake Daniel Jr. likes for his birthday. I know Philip's favorite ice cream flavor (flavors! haha). I know the teachers Levi likes and those he doesn't like. I know the boys Charity thinks are cute. I know what Megan is writing about for her latest assignment (and that she is a gifted writer like Levi). I know Emily is afraid to try at school because she is so used to being successful at everything she tries, that she thinks she should be able to read after having had the ABC's introduced to her once! I know Katherine, at three, thinks she is just about as smart as every one of her three older sisters... and me sometimes. And Joshua... I know he is gifted in relating to people. He loves. Even at 18 month old; he loves us...

And now- after all these years, I am here; in the good old days. I know the day will too soon come when I look back and say that these were the best days of my life: When I had adult, near adult, teenage, pre-teen, young children, and pre-school aged children all in my home at once.

Now I have it all. Don't I? What future could life hold for me that can possibly bring me more joy than that which I have right now?

I'm not in a hurry to find out. I'm happy to linger in this moment, and to thank my God for all that is now.

Pictures from Vacation and Philip's 18th Birthday

2009-10-13T14:57:00.001-07:00

Turn the Page

2009-09-22T11:37:00.000-07:00

I love Bob Segar... But wait, I haven't mentioned my sister Melinda. She was like a mother to me when I was a child. She had a rough life. Having been abused as a child, she was spiritually scarred and confused, but she loved me and I loved her.

Melinda took me to see Bob Segar in concert one summer he came to San Antonio. I remember driving the hour down I 10 in her old black Chevy pick up, with no air conditioning. I didn't care. Very few cars I rode in in those days had AC. It was the time of my life. I knew Melinda loved me. I felt it. No matter how rough she was or unacceptable to proper society, she was acceptable to me. She had done everything bad a person might think of. She was the person who introduced me to pot and wine coolers. She didn't know she was hurting me. She was trying to draw me closer to her. I don't fault her for any of it. Standing with her and singing and crying listening to Bob Segar live was an amazing, unforgettable experience. "Janie was lovely. She was the queen of my night, there in the darkness with the radio playing low. Against the wind. We were running against the wind. We were young and strong and we were running... against the wind." I love those lyrics.

"Turn the Page" was Melinda's favorite. She also turned me on to the Eagles, Led Zeppelin, Simon and Garfunkel, Boston, and Journey, to name some. That music always makes me think of her. I think of her every day. I miss her.

Melinda was killed by a drunk driver in 1989 on St. Patrick's Day. The young man who killed her was on leave from the Army he had just joined. He wasn't even old enough to drink alcohol in the State of Texas at that time. He took a mother away from a 14 year old daughter. He took a daughter away from a grieving mother. He took my sister away from me.

I know, because of the testimony I have of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, that families can be together forever. I look forward to the time I will be reunited with my sister. I like to imagine she may, over these years, have been able to spend some time in the spirit world with my own daughter Heather, who died in infancy in 1990. Melinda, too, had a daughter who died of phneumochoccal meningitis (I should find the correct spelling of this disease).

Carrie was only 14 months old when she died. Melinda was with her as she cried 'Mama' repeatedly until she lapsed into a coma. It was devastating for my sister. The IV antibiotic leaked out of the baby's catheter and into her diaper. The nurse thought the baby was wetting her diaper. Carrie wasn't getting the medication needed to save her life. By the time they found out what was going on, it was too late.

Carrie's death was one dark moment in Melinda's life. Her life was like a landscape of darkness with droplets of color. So much of her time on earth was sadness...so much so, that it was hard for her to feel the joy when it did come. Some of her pain was induced by molesting adults in her childhood. Some was self imposed as she grew. Such is the sad pattern of young girls who are abused. They often self-abuse, thus insuring they continue to hurt, often for the duration of their mortal lives. They drink alcohol in excess, they sell their virtue, they find men who will hurt them, they hurt people... It is heartbreaking.

I have been grateful over the years that Melinda is free from the pains of this world, although I miss her still. I don't believe she has ceased to exist. I believe the story of her life continues as a story written in the pages of a never ending story book. The page has turned for her. And though, I'm not on the same page, I will be, one of these days.

One of these days we will all be on the same page. The time will come when all nations, kindreds, tongues and people will confess the same truths. The time will come when every knee shall bow and every tongue confess the same truth. When all eyes shall see, every ear shall hear and every heart shall feel...

Until that time comes, we are all somewhere on our own page in our own book... turning pages. No matter one's station or season in life, it too soon is time to turn the page.

When darkness and despair loom like clouds upon the horizon, remember the wind will soon blow in from the north. Clouds are slaves to the wind.

If the darkness is too heavy and no joy can be found in the cool breeze and temporary shade of the clouds, at least remain hopeful, for on the next page, there is reason to rejoice. All earthly stories end in a measure of happily ever after.

"In my Father's house are many mansions. If it were not so, I would have told you."

And they lived happily ever after... turn the page...

10 September 2009: Philip Wayne Windham becomes an Eagle Scout; joining less than 2% of Boy Scouts in America

2009-09-10T22:18:00.000-07:00

Rememering Heather

2009-09-09T06:06:00.000-07:00

Right around this time of year, every year, I get in a little funk. I know that isn't a real word. It's hard to describe, though. I'm not depressed. I'm not grumpy. I've been called preoccupied. Maybe that's it; Preoccupied.

On the 12th of August, 1990 (a lifetime ago for some people), a small girl came into my home, having left the bosom of the Father to be my baby daughter, Heather. She was small, a little premature, but healthy and beautiful. She came on a Sunday.

On the 9th of September, 1990 (a lifetime ago for some, but yesterday for me...), the Lord sent an angel to call Heather away from me and back to her heavenly home. It was around 2:00 a.m. The rest of us were sleeping. She left on a Sunday.

The four weeks that sweet little girl was mine to hold were brief. Yet, her brief presence in my life has changed me for the rest of my life. One would think there could be no regrets in a four week long relationship, except for regrets for what might have been, but never will be. I have one, though.

The last day I had together with Heather, and of course, I didn't know it was the last day, for how could I have known she would die in her crib that night?... That last day was the first day she cried.

I don't mean fussy crying, I mean she cried like something was wrong and I didn't know what was the matter. I was 22 and she was my second baby. I had tried everything to soothe her: changed her, tried to nurse her, held her. I finally just sat in the rocker and rocked her and hummed a tune to her that was left in the recesses of my mind from my own childhood.

But, as I sat humming, I felt irritated- irritated that she continued to cry and I couldn't comfort her. I was tense. I was frustrated. I was possibly even a little angry inside, feeling like a failure as a mother to this cranky little crying baby.

That is my regret. I have come to learn, over the years, that babies can feel your tension. If you are tense, angry, irritated... they feel it. I have to wonder if Heather was telling me something through her cries and all I told her was that she was frustrating me. I won't know until Christ comes again and all things are made whole and restored... but I wonder some times.

I've learned that a crying baby is a blessing in the middle of the night. How I would to go back in time and wake up with Heather crying at 1:30 a.m. instead of having slept through that night that changed my world. How I would like to be able to go back and hold her while she cried and soak in every sound of her little voice with gladness and return to her my peace and comfort instead my tension. If only...

Thanks to that little girl, who came and went, I have been more peaceful to the children who came after her... and to Daniel Jr., who came before. I don't want to have any more regrets should today be the last day I hear my children cry.

It isn't likely I'll bury anymore of my young children, I pray to God. But every day I still have breath, and every day they breathe, I want them to feel peace and love from me. I want them to know, when they leave my home to go their way in the world, that they were never a frustration to me. They were only my greatest joy and that which has given my life meaning.

Heather, I remember you... and thank you.

Master, the tempest is raging...

2009-09-06T21:04:00.000-07:00

Not waves of water and brine, and winds full of sea salt- but passion and contempt within the hearts of men; this is the tempest raging in these last days of earth.

This is my blog, so I will say what I think. If you are worried I will offend you, please stop reading.

What's going on? Why is rudeness acceptable when it comes to politics? "Where were you when Reagan did the same thing?" "Is it that you just hate the Democrats?" "If it were Bush you wouldn't have a problem."

I've had to tell people, "I was a kid when that happened... that's why I didn't have an opinion." "I didn't have kids in public school when that happened." "I didn't vote for him the second time." "I didn't think that was a good idea." etc. etc.

People can get so angry and belligerent when it comes to politics. Sometimes people make far reaching assumptions that, in other areas of life would be obviously inappropriate. Yet, when it comes to politics, people throw good manners to the curb.

I informed a family member that friends couldn't believe she had tried to be so mean and embarrassing to me during a public political conversation. My family said a person would have a thin skin to be embarrassed over what she said. I agreed (and do agree). However, the point was missed in that my family didn't care at all that she had been seen by others to be rude to me in public. It didn't seem to occur to her at all that the way she spoke to me was a reflection on her character to those who witnessed. It was not a reflection of the opinions of either one of us. I don't understand it: It was as if the whole thing was only about her getting her point in, no matter the cost of the relationship or how she might have been seen by others.

If you wouldn't otherwise try to be mean spirited to someone, why is it OK with regard to politics.

At any rate, when a person expresses concern and interest in the current political climate, the rest of us, I think, should encourage free thinking and questioning. We shouldn't say, "Hey, you didn't complain when the Democrats sat back instead of forwarding the Republican led civil rights movement! Why are you complaining that they're sitting back now?" Who of us was really there during the fight for civil rights? Just because our voices weren't heard on any particular issue five or 25 years ago, doesn't mean we should be silent today. Should we continue to sit back and watch the deterioration of our society? Should we be silent when we see the the storm upon us?

How much rain falls upon you before you realize you are wet and need to find shelter?

How long do you continue to stand in the rain?

Do you remain still when the wind blows? When the lightening strikes? When the flood waters rise?

How long can you stand while the tempest begins to rage?

It began as a little rain. We all know that. Yet, today, the tempest is rising.

Call upon the Master of All to guide us through these dark days.
He is our only hope for deliverance.

Who said: Pray as if everything depends upon God, then work as if everything depends upon you?

I add my testimony to this counsel.

Pray.
work.

I would add one more word of encouragement: Continue to speak... speak kindly... speak truthfully... speak well.

What's In Your Jar?

2009-08-14T06:32:00.000-07:00

The test of a relationship and an individual, as well, is what spills out during crisis. I say ‘spills out’ because of an object lesson that comes to mind from years ago.

Imagine two dark colored glass jars sitting undisturbed on a table top. Both are filled to equal amounts with an unknown liquid. The constitution of the liquid is indiscernible due to the dark hue of the glass.

Only when the table is disturbed and the jars are overturned may one see what spills from the jars. One jar is filled with honey. The other, filled with vinegar. The lesson here is that: only when we are upset, does our true character reveal itself.

So it is in any relationship. The quality and depth of the relationship and the true character of those in relation to each other is revealed when the figurative table is upset.

Every person is accountable for the direction in which he persuades each relationship in which he is. If one knows his sister is given to a particular weakness, but provokes her to that point of losing control; not only is she accountable for giving in to her weakness, but he is accountable for knowingly provoking her to the breaking point.

If two people wish to remain in a healthy relationship with each other, both have a responsibility to exert every effort to bring out goodness in his/her partner (wife, son, friend, etc.). When we engage in any antagonistic effort (passive or aggressive), we are responsible for driving away the Spirit of the Lord and thus leaving our relationship to wane under the guidance of the adversary of mankind. When we knowingly provoke our loved one or even a stranger to anger, we share in the responsibility for the consequences of that anger.

When tension rises, we must be sure to continue to relate with love and kindness to those around us, as the Savior would have us do. When the storm is howling and blowing the trees and bushes outside, we must not also throw things around inside our own house. We must take refuge inside our personal temple. Within our own bodies, we remain safe from any spiritual storms if we remain in control and only say and do those things the Lord would have us say and do.

When a person masters himself, he masters all.

When two people who have mastered themselves relate to each other, the relationship is magnificent and what, I believe, the Lord intends for us to have with each other.

When the table is upset and two jars of honey reveal their contents, all is well.

To Spank or Not to Spank; That is the Question... well... not really...

2009-07-24T07:52:00.001-07:00

OK. Everybody who knows me knows how I feel about them. Right. I mean, if you are a friend of mine, you know I like you and wouldn't ever TRY to hurt your feelings or make you mad at me. Right? OK. Having said that, I just want to talk a little about hitting kids.

I have been asked:How can you teach a child to not hit, if you hit him? How can you teach a child to be non violent if you spank? If you're still reading, let me answer:

It is essential to never strike a child when you are angry. It is essential to graduate intensity and severity of the spanking experience in correlation with the emotional and intellectual development of the child, in consideration with the personality of the child and the relationship of you, as the disciplinarian, to the child.

In more simple terms: there is no cut and dried spanking technique such as you will find for 'time out'. With 'time out', a child is supposed to be placed in 'time out' or in the 'naughty spot' or on the 'naughty chair' (or whatever), for one minute per year of age of the child. Incidentally, some children don't really mind sitting in time out for a while where they can think or sing, or imagine... Spanking isn't that way. It has been my experience that no child likes to be spanked. But spanking is complicated.

A parent who spanks his or her child must be much more in tune with the developmental emotional and intellectual stage of his or her child as an individual than a parent who uses time out or withholding of privileges. A toddler who obviously knows he is hurting someone by pulling hair after being redirected and spoken to in simple words with appropriate emphasis will most likely respond to a gentle slap on the hand or wrist while being told in simple words to not hurt the other child. He should be loved and encouraged to engage in a positive behavior and taught to touch other children appropriately through modeling and hands-on teaching (holding his hand in yours and stroking the other child's hair, for instance while telling him to be soft, or nice, or whatever).

I have found that toddlers from 16 or so months old up to about 2 years respond very quickly to this method and do get their feelings hurt when you speak sternly to them while slapping their hand or wrist, or thigh. I have found they do not respond as well to the stern voice alone. They remember the physical stimuli, and the impression of the experience carries forward to the next time, when they may respond to the stern voice alone.

I have experienced that most children do not require spanking after the age of about 3 or 4 years of age, however, with any child, there MUST be a discernible pattern of discipline that the child can easily identify. The parent must develop steps toward the spanking that will warn the child, as he learns to identify the pattern, that a spanking is coming if he doesn't change his course.

For instance; 1. verbal correction in a kind voice with redirection of the child to an appropriate activity. 2. verbal correction in a firm voice with a warning to change the inappropriate behavior with redirection of the child to the alternate activity. 3. Swat to the thigh, or hand (depending on whether or not the hand is specifically involved in the undesired activity), accompanied by firm verbal affirmation as to why the child is being spanked, followed by redirection... then shortly later, followed by reaffirmation of love and affection for the child and encouragement to not repeat the offense for which the spank was given.

NOW, for older children, who generally behave well and heed the warning pattern, which, by the time a child is 6 or so should begin with making eye contact with the child and expressing in unspoken language that the child's current behavior is unacceptable. This unspoken language may often be a raised eyebrow or a shaken head, as if to say 'no'. If a child does not respond to this, a parent might need to speak with the child directly to express the expectation to discontinue a certain behavior or to engage in a certain activity, such as 'make your bed'... etc. When a parent has clearly communicated expectations to an older child and given a warning such as: If you continue to rat tail your brother with that dish towel, you will give me 20 push ups and I will give you 3 swats on the rear. Do you understand me?, a spanking is warranted, even required, if the threat has been made. An older child will rarely need a spanking and is more than likely embarrassed by it more than anything else, after all, he is expected to be more obedient and well behaved than that.

Generally, an older child will understand the explained consequences and will accept his or her punishment if earned.

In most cases (except with the very young toddler who does not yet understand the pattern of discipline or even not to pull hair), a child will see where his steps are leading, will have been warned and will expect what is coming, or will take steps to avoid the spanking.

There will be the occasional offense that warrants spanking without prior warning to the child. For instance; if a three year old bites her sister. She knew not to bite. She was angry. She deserves a spanking. She must not be spanked out of anger. She must be told before her spanking that she will get a spanking and why. She must be told how many swats she will receive. She must also be made to apologize and be told, although she already knew it, that she must never bite her sister again.

In most cases, older children will avoid spanking due to their choices and having learned to identify the spiraling staircase that leads to it.

I would like to express how important I believe it is for parents to never take a child's bad behavior personally. A parent should not get angry when a child misbehaves. The bad behavior only hurts the child in the long run. A child must learn that. Spanking is a very poetic way to impress that upon a child's mind. A parent must spank out of love and with control and purpose. Never to injure the child physically. Yet, there must be some physical pain to impress upon the mind of the child and serve as a reminder that bad behavior is not rewarding; this principle will soon evolve into the understanding that 'wickedness never was happiness.'

One last thought: children must trust their parents (caregivers) to discipline them. Children must be able to rely upon the stability of their parents. Parents who cannot control themselves must never spank a child.

Megan's Blog

2009-06-03T19:49:00.000-07:00

Megan is very independent. She logged herself in to her blog (which was actually my blog) and posted her observations on human relations. I found it today and moved it to her blog at meganwindham.blogspot.com, but anyone who read it on my blog can see she has come to understand a little of the notion that 'what goes around comes around.' This is a twist on 'treat others the way you want to be treated.' She has observed that people tend to reciprocate, not all the time, but many times, the treatment they receive. If Megan is nice to her little sister, her little sister is more likely to respond in like manner. If she is rude... you know how that goes.

I'm glad she accidentally posted to my blog. If she hadn't, I might not have remembered to check up on her blog from time to time. She hasn't asked lately how to get onto her blog... so I thought she wasn't worried about writing in it, however, in truth, she has been updating it on the sly, without my help. How amazing! My 8 year old kid is journalling/blogging... and the stuff she's writing is pretty neat.

I do need to remember to check my own blog dashboard to see her recent posts. I don't do that often enough.

Memorial Day: Remember?

2009-05-25T22:13:00.000-07:00

Today I thought of my brother who fought in Desert Storm 1991. He spent more than 20 years in the United States armed forces. He found my wonderful sister in law in Germany while he was stationed there in the 1980's. I thought of him and his sacrifices and those of his family during times when their husband and father was gone from home for months, even nearly a year at a time. How grateful I am to him and those like him who serve this country and stand for those principles upon which it was founded.

Tonight, as I sat in my room folding laundry, I was half-heartedly watching the news. There was a story about what is presently happening in California. It seems the California Supreme Court will decide tomorrow whether or not to uphold or overturn Proposition 8 which defines marriage in California to be between one man and one woman. Of course, it is well known that San Francisco, California is the homosexual capitol of the nation, if not the world. I know the word 'gay' is the politically correct term for homosexuality, however, I am not employed by anyone who requires me to speak in the currently accepted political terms, and while I still have the freedom to speak freely in this country my brother and so many more unnamed soldiers have defended, I will speak the words I believe are the most true. I do not associate homosexuality with the word gay, which means happy or joyful. I have read a prophets words that say: wickedness never was happiness. And so, in my mind, actions that fall into the category of sin, cannot bring happiness to anyone. But I digress...

It is possible, not likely I think, but possible that the California Supreme Court may overturn a law that was implemented by the voice of the people of the State of California. The PEOPLE voted and said: marriage is between one man and one woman. When we come to a place in America where the COURT decides what laws the people may enact, we have come to a place where America has ceased to be what she was born to be. Have we come to the sad conclusion at which the government of the people, by the people and for the people has perished from the earth? If the people speak and the court silences them... if the people vote and the government does not listen... if the people are governed by those who are not required to represent the voters... if the this country has ceased to be that which it was born to be, then what has it become?

When an American President fires and hires a CEO of an American corporation as part of government business, what sort of government is that?

When the government establishes government regulated and administered health care for all, including for those who not only pay no taxes, but are not United States Citizens, what sort of government is that?

When the government regulates everything from education of our children, to what kind of cars manufacturers build, to how much money CEO's are allowed to make...

When the government comes to include the judiciary...

When the tax dollars of Texan's are sent to pay for the mistakes of California or Michigan... and I have no vote in California... is not that taxation without representation? Weren't there some people who made a big deal about that once upon a time?

What sort of government is that?

It is not a government of, by and for the people. It is not the limited government that is only intended to deal with issues not able to be dealt with at the state government level.

It is not the limited government it was designed to be. Not the government described in the Constitution of the United States of America.

How grateful I am for those who serve what is left of America. The ghost that remains. The American dream...a dream that is waking...

Is it lost? The dream? Will it take the return of the King of all to correct what is happening in not only the world around us, but in our own nation?

I pray for the soldiers who defend freedom. I pray for their families. I pray for the leaders of nations that they may have wisdom in judgment and have the righteous desires of their hearts.

I pray for the United States of America; that she may withstand the onslaught of those who are trying to destroy her by changing her so severely that she may never recover her identity.

Mother's Day is My Day, thank you.

2009-05-10T21:39:00.000-07:00

I almost let the day slip away. In twenty minutes, Mother's Day 2009 will be gone... and I almost didn't take the opportunity to reflect on this moment in time. I am sad I didn't get a picture this year. So, I'm posting the picture from Mother's Day 2008... Oh, well.

I was reading a pamphlet I received in 1987, not long after I joined the LDS Church. Entitled "To the Mothers in Zion" it contains the words of President Ezra Taft Benson, now deceased, but who was the Prophet at that time. The words of President Benson, in a very large way, molded my life. Looking back at the stage of my life at that time, knowing how the talk affected my heart, and seeing how my life has unfolded now 22 years later... it has been a good experience for me to have re-read the pamphlet. I wonder how many other women I know have read it. I wonder if it spoke to them the same way?

Last year, our Bishopric gave all the mothers a booklet entitled "Blessings upon the Hands of Women" by Boyd K. Packard. I've asked a few of my friends, and no one seems to have read it, besides me, of course. I don't get it, honestly. There's so much pressure from the world on women to be what society says we should be. There is so little honor in motherhood anymore, in the distorted view of the world. I wonder if I am the only one I know who needs to be reassured I'm OK. It's OK with the Lord if I don't work for money. It's OK if I have nine children and cook dinner for my husband and family every (Oh, OK, MOST) night(s). It's OK if I am able to run the gym shorts to the school in the middle of the day. It's OK to be available in the middle of the day to do those things for my kids when they call me.

The Lord doesn't look down on me because I have chosen to be a mother. Not just someone who gave birth and then hired someone to change the diapers, read the books, teach the alphabet. Not just someone who had a child because she wanted one and it was the right time in life. I chose to make motherhood my career, and my Heavenly Father supports me in that choice.

I see it every day. I see the hand of the Lord in my life, sustaining me and buoying me up, even when the tempest blows and the billows mount. How else could it be that we survive? How could it be that one man, my husband Daniel, a good and loving man, but still only one man; how could it be that he could support this enormous family alone? Don't misunderstand, I do my share for Windham Plumbing. Invoicing, contracting, payables/receivables, insurance issues, etc... and it saves quite a bit of money because we don't have to hire an office manager and bookkeeper. But, I don't bring money IN. Daniel does that. And it is amazing how well we have survived over the years. It reminds me of the Lord feeding the multitude with five loaves of bread and some fishes. The basket just never emptied. And so it seems to be with us. Even when things seem dim, the light never goes out.

I don't have words of gratitude sufficient to express the full measure of my heart. No greater joy have I ever known than that experienced during moments such as those similar to the picture I have posted with this entry. President David O. McKay has said: "Motherhood is the greatest potential influence either for good or ill in human life. The mother's image is the first that stamps itself on the unwritten page of the young child's mind. It is her caress that first awakens a sense of security; her kiss, the first realization of affection; her sympathy and tenderness, the first assurance that there is love in the world."

I have felt the joy in stamping that first impression upon the mind of an infant child fresh from the bosom of the Father. I have felt the warm reciprocity of security in a small sleeping body snuggled warmly in my arms. I have felt the joy of motherhood and no joy in this life is sweeter. No money nor promise of position or power could persuade me to seek greater fulfillment outside the walls of this home in which I have borne and am rearing my children. I thank my God for the blessings of Motherhood. I thank Him for the swelling in my bosom even now, as I contemplate my station in this life.

No foreign government will ever know my name. No posters will display the silhouette of my face. No popular songs will laud me, yet, my children will hold the memory of my love and service in their hearts forever and my grandchildren will be blessed because of my influence in the lives of the children I have been blessed to rear in my home. The songs I have sung will ring in the memory of my children all the days of their lives. The stories I have told will remain somewhere in the recesses of adult minds. The influence of my kindness will affect generations to come.

What more honor could one ask? It has been a happy day for me today. I am grateful to be a mother in Zion.

Help! Help! Help!

2009-05-05T18:50:00.000-07:00

This really is just a plea for help. Some of you who read my blog might be able to help my kid... or you may know some strong young guys who might be able to help my kid...

Philip is putting his Eagle Project together and has it scheduled for May 16th. He needs people in work clothes with machetes, weed eaters and such to help clean the "Harwood Negro Cemetery" in Harwood, Texas. It'll be from 8 in the morning until noon.

Email him at philipwindham_eaglescoutproject@yahoo.com

Thanks.

On Second Thought

2009-04-21T20:03:00.000-07:00

I was in the shower this morning thinking about all the things I need to write to update my blog... about Spring Break and our trip to Corpus Christi while Daniel was working on the house in Ingleside...our visit to the USS Lexington... our trip to the Texas State Aquarium... the fun we had at the beach until Philip got stung by a sting ray... all the stuff I need to mention like Josh turning one and how special it was... And I was thinking about all I needed to get done in the office... you know... just thinking...

Like I said, I was in the shower. It was about 6:15 a.m. and I though I could take a nice warm wake-me-up shower and even have time to shave my legs... when I heard Josh cry. My first thought was, "Good grief! Can't I even take a peaceful shower at 6:15 in the morning? Can that kid ever sleep when I want him to? Now, I bet he's going to want in the shower with me, like always..."

That's what I thought at first... then a second later I thought, "What the heck, lady? In fewer years than you think you'll be all alone in this house and that little baby won't want to remember ever having showered with you! He'd think: GROSS! Shower with my mom?!"

Then, of course, like I do a lot, I started to think about all the things I'm going to miss one of these days. I wondered if I'll miss all the barbies in the bathtub? The pool of shampoo from a turned over bottle that Katherine used to wash the barbie's hair over and over again? The paper from the trash in my office space turned over all under my desk every day? My liquid paper all dried up because Megan used it in 'her office' and left it open just a little bit? I could go on for pages...

One of these days I'll have my shower to myself. My desk. My room. My house. One of these days I won't have a sweet warm little wiggly boy pulling on me in the night. One of these days no one will come into my room with cold feet and legs to warm against me because my bed is always so much more cozy than hers. One of these days no teenage boy will plop on my bed and take my pillow to hang out and see what I'm reading. One of these days no 11 year old girl will think I don't understand... and she not understand how much I really understand more than she knows and how I love her with all of my heart.

One of these days will come sooner than I want.

On second thought... an early morning shower is best with a soapy, slippery one year old baby boy to share it with... especially when there's just a drop of his baby shampoo left... just enough for one more shower with mommy.

If a picture is worth a 1,000 words... how many words are 1,000 pictures worth?

2009-04-21T15:01:00.001-07:00

2009-04-21T13:03:00.000-07:00

Small things...

2009-03-24T18:45:00.000-07:00

Sometimes people do what they think are little things not worth mentioning. Sometimes those little things are huge to someone else. This guy... this awesome guy we know, took Daniel Jr. to some sort of professional football scout day at Texas State University. He says it's no big deal. Daniel probably had the best day of his year today with that guy. Many of you who know our family most likely know who I'm talking about. I wouldn't name him, because he's the kind of person who isn't looking for pats on the back. He gives them. He's a good, good man. I'm grateful for his friendship to my son. My son who needs a friend. Thank you. Daniel had a blast! And the picture of him with that beautiful young lady will hang on his wall as a reminder.

What is Preserved

2009-03-14T22:22:00.000-07:00

So many times over the years there have been forces in the world that would pull apart our family, beginning with the marriage. If the marriage fails, the family falls apart. How desperately important it is, then, to nurture and secure the strength of marriage.

Many years ago, the thought occurred to me that I might not want to spend the rest of my life with my husband, Daniel. It was a tough time. We both said and did things we shouldn't have. We were separated for a couple of weeks, even. At that time, we only had Daniel,Jr. I wasn't planning to have any more kids. At 21 years old, I was done. Marriage was too hard.

Obviously, we worked it out. Over, and over again, we've worked it out. It's not that marriage has become perfect or even wonderful at all moments of the day and night. It is that marriage has become clear to our view. It has become obvious to me and to my husband that more hinges upon our successful marriage than our own gratification. We have a responsibility to Daniel Jr. And almost 24 years down the road since our wedding day, we now have a responsibility to 8 additional children... the last of which is only a baby... yet a while longer, at least. Josh will be a year old in April.

Not only must we preserve our peaceful and loving relationship in marriage for our own good, but the example we set for our children may make the difference between a happily ever after for them, or not. Once a child comes into the world through our actions, it ceases to be about us and becomes about them. Not only while they are young, but for the rest of their lives and into eternity.

Loving someone after a quarter of a century isn't an act of romantic fate. It is a choice. I choose to be kind. I choose to speak words of appreciation and encouragement. I choose to serve with an attitude of kindness and joy. I choose to smile when I feel like frowning, sometimes. I choose to be silent when I feel like screaming, sometimes. I choose to place a gentle hand upon a shoulder and say: I love you, no matter what... when I feel like... well, some things don't need to be said, do they?

I've found that it doesn't matter if my blood is boiling. If I smile and speak softly, others believe I'm patient and loving. That's what matters. How we affect the lives of others. After all: what goes around, comes around, right? And I remember something about 'when you lose your life for the sake of someone else... you actually save your life.'

I believe that is true. I've lost myself in loving the good man to whom I am eternally joined, and the nine children I've born in this life. How glad I am that I wasn't done at one child! How grateful I am that I stayed! How grateful for all that is saved in a marriage that stays together!

Close the Window
by srw
23 Dec 99

We dance the days of life away
to the tune of an old song;
Moving slowly inside this room
of four walls defining our world.

Through the window we hear the beat
of a distant drum somewhere in the night:
Hands laid upon a tightly stretched skin
evoking passion... perhaps greater than ours.

We dance the same safe step,
wondering at the sound of thunder
Whispering to our hearts to
seek the drummer.

The rhythm of a new song
begins to echo inside us.
Cradled in the arms of familiarity,
we close the window

without missing a step.

A Correction

2009-03-09T18:16:00.000-07:00

Not everything good about parenting did I learn in church. I should say: everything I've learned about perfect parenting, I've learned (and am learning still) through my study of the Gospel of Christ. That isn't to say I'm a perfect parent. It is to say Christ is perfect. He gave a perfect example. No one else can or has done that.

My mother never made me feel unintelligent, unappreciated or unwanted. She never told me I was stupid, good for nothing or a pain in the neck. She did tell me she loved me. She told me I was the best thing she ever did.

She worked at a job making the newspaper, that was, in those days, usually only worked by men. She supported her kids without welfare or child support after the divorce. She went to work when she was ill. She went to work when she didn't feel like it. And you better not call her at work unless it was an emergency that couldn't be handled any other way, because there was always somebody who'd take a job like that from a woman in those days.

She taught me to help people who are stuck on the side of the road or down on their luck. She taught me that when the guy tries to hand you a twenty, you say the way to pay-back is to help someone else.

I've learned a lot of good things from my mother. I'm grateful to her for all those good things. I'm not grateful for having had a perfect mother, because there are no perfect mothers, are there?

When two people stand upon a path and look down that path as far as the eyes can see, they are looking in the same direction, but with slightly different perspectives. We can't see through the same eyes as another...And it's OK. Some things aren't a matter of good or bad, perfect of imperfect. Some things are just a matter of perspective.

Although I don't think my mother knows I love her, I do. Though my words spoken and written don't seem to mean as much to her as I suppose my actions do, I know I love her. My children know. My husband knows...maybe she will know the intent and full measure of my heart one day.

Sometimes I feel like some relationships can be like a campfire; very warm and cozy, until you get very close... then you can get burned if you're not careful.

It's important to know where the boundaries are in each relationship we have with others. In every relationship, we can make a mistake in being too close or too far. It's challenging to find the balance. Maybe I'll figure it all out before it's too late.

My Yorktown Talk March 08

2009-03-07T22:20:00.000-08:00

President Ezra Taft Benson taught that young couples should not postpone having children and that “in the eternal perspective, children—not possessions, not position, not prestige—are our greatest jewels.” To the Mothers in Zion (pamphlet, 1987)

My husband and I joined the church in 1985, the year we got married. He was 22 and I was 17. We came from a different world than the world in which my kids are growing up in...even a different time. We weren’t raised in the church. We had no Family Home Evenings, family prayer, family anything growing up and no primary or youth organizations to teach us all we needed to know and do to return to the presence of our Heavenly Father. It was the LDS missionaries who taught us much of what we were lacking. The fellowship of the members of our little branch and then a new ward, when we moved that helped us as we tried to live the new standards we adopted as our values. We learned a lot about what the Mormon church teaches by reading church publications, and by studying the scriptures. When we got married, we wanted to have a baby. When we joined the LDS Church, we found we SHOULD have children. But we also felt unprepared and maybe even unworthy.

I read something Brigham Young once said that gave me much peace in those early years. He said: "The Church can make a bad man good and make a good man better." I’ve always been so thankful for that reassurance, and I’ve hoped, over the years, that I became a good man when I was baptized and I’ve been becoming a better man ever since.

I was 5.5 months pregnant with our oldest son, Daniel when my husband and I were sealed together for time and all eternity in the Oakland temple in 1987. I’m so grateful that my children have been born in the covenant of that sealing. I’ve enjoyed the years I’ve been a mother and am grateful and I am looking forward to having many more years ahead with children in my home…and hopefully, many, many grandchildren who will come to visit often. Children are such a blessing. Many of the greatest joys in my life have been relative to my being a mother to my children. What greater joy can a woman feel than when she holds a newborn baby close and whispers the first earthly message into the ears of one so fresh from the bosom of the Father? How special it is to be the first one to whisper the sweet message of Jesus Christ in infant ears! Through motherhood, I’ve come to understand what that message of Christ to us all is. The message is: I love you. Our Savior, our brother loves us. Our Father loves us. And so we are commanded to love each other. We are commanded to teach our children to love. It is through love that we are able to return to the presence of Father in Heaven. If we love Him, we will keep His commandments. For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son…
It is my responsibility, as a mother in Zion, to create a climate for spiritual and temporal growth in the home. As a mother with many children, I often look for opportunities to teach my children to serve (mainly to help me out here and there). I think of the poem President Monson has recited in general conference.

Which Loved Best by Joy Allison
“I love you, Mother,” said little [John];
Then, forgetting his work, his cap went on,
And he was off to the garden swing,
Leaving her the water and wood to bring.
“I love you, Mother,” said rosy Nell—
“I love you better than tongue can tell”;
Then she teased and pouted full half the day,
Till her mother rejoiced when she went to play.
“I love you, Mother,” said little Fan;
“Today I’ll help you all I can;
How glad I am that school doesn’t keep!”
So she rocked the babe till it fell asleep.
Then, stepping softly, she fetched the broom,
And swept the floor and tidied the room;
Busy and happy all day was she,
Helpful and happy as child could be.
“I love you, Mother,” again they said,
Three little children going to bed;
How do you think that Mother guessed
Which of them really loved her best?

Teaching children to work is one thing. Teaching children to serve in the spirit of love is another challenge. Yet, we are called upon to do it.

In (3 Ne. 11:28–30)the Master instructed: “There shall be no disputations among you.
“For verily, verily I say unto you, he that hath the spirit of contention is not of me, but is of the devil, who is the father of contention, and he stirreth up the hearts of men to contend with anger, one with another. Behold, this is not my doctrine, to stir up the hearts of men with anger, one against another; but this is my doctrine, that such things should be done away”

Many times we’ve struggled, and I’m sure will continue to struggle to keep contention out of our home. I remember a hymn called “Truth Reflects Upon our Senses” that says: It requires a constant labor all His precepts to obey. I’m comforted that we aren’t the only ones who feel it’s a constant labor. One of our favorite passages to share with our children during a difficult sibling moment comes from Mosiah 4:14-15, which says "And ye will not suffer your children that they go hungry, or naked; neither will ye suffer that they transgress the laws of God, and fight and quarrel one with another, and serve the devil, who is the master of sin, or who is the devil spirit which hath been spoken of by our fathers, he being an enemy to all righteousness. But ye will teach them to walk in the ways of truth and soberness; ye will teach them to love one another, and to serve one another."

I like to read that to my kids and tell them they are causing me to be disobedient to Heavenly Father when they fight and quarrel with each other. It guilts them into behaving for a little while, at least.

Before I joined the Church, I didn’t know much about how to live a good life. There are some days, even now that I feel like I still don’t know what I’m doing. But, I know the Lord knows what He is doing. I know, when I have questions, I can ask Him for guidance and He will guide me. I know many answers are in the scriptures, ready for me to open the pages and find them. I know the Lord’s servants, the Prophet, the Stake President, the Bishop and Branch President often speak the answers to my questions. And I know that the greatest learning any of us can ever do is to learn that which is taught to us by the Spirit of Truth. For we know that by the Power of the Holy Ghost, we may know the truth of all things. (Mosiah 10)

I know Father in Heaven loves us. We are His children. He wants us to find our way back home. He hasn't just dumped us here on this earth to wander blindly in the hope of lucking into eternal happiness. He has given us the plan by which we may reenter His presence. He has given us a plan for happiness. It is the Gospel of Jesus Christ, restored in its fullness in these, the last days of earth.

God, the Father lives. Jesus is the Christ. Joseph Smith is the Prophet who ushered in this last dispensation. Thomas S. Monson is the Lord's living Prophet today. The Book of Mormon is the word of God. These are things I know in my heart and in my mind to be true. I bear you this testimony in the name of my Savior, Jesus Christ, amen.

Beyond the Door

2009-03-05T21:22:00.000-08:00

On 12 August 1990 I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. We named her Heather Elizabeth. I hadn't thought I could possibly love a second child as much as I loved Daniel Jr. until Heather was born and I cradled her in may arms. Sadly, four weeks after she was born on a Sunday, my sweet little girl passed away on a Sunday, September 9th. She died of S.I.D.S. (sudden infant death syndrome), also known as crib-death. It was during that time of sorrow I realized no one can comfort me. No person on this earth can ease that pain. The arms of a loving , grieving husband cannot give comfort. The words of a friend or minister are no help. Even knowledge and testimony of life in heaven after earth doesn't erase the mark upon the heart of a mother with milk in her breasts and no child to suckle. No baby to hold and arms aching to embrace the little body now cold and lifeless. There is no balm in Gilead for such suffering in that moment of darkness. Yet, one day passed away, then two, and it became apparent that the world would continue to rotate on its axis regardless of desire or despair... and sooner than I ever thought it would pass away, now nearly 19 years have come and gone since I held Heather in my arms. Looking back, I know I have been comforted. I know I have been guided through the valley of the shadow of death. I know I have been remembered and loved. I know the Lord has been my support when no one's arms could hold me. I know when I reached out from my darkness, He was truly there, though I couldn't feel Him in that moment. I have come to know, now looking back, the times He truly held me up when I felt like sinking into the grave myself. Thanks be to my God for bearing me up when all of my world seemed to weight me down. I've had so many good things in my life for which to be grateful since that dark time, and I ever will be grateful. As life does go, my have have gone on. Sorrow does, with time, ease over the years, and so mine has. The promises that have been made by the Lord will be kept. I'm counting on it. I look forward to that time when I shall again hold my daughter close and whisper the words of a mother's love in her ears.The poem below was written in September 1991, one year after Heather passed beyond the veil.

Beyond the Door
by sally windham

Many times you've shed a tear for my grief.
Too many times you've bent low to shoulder my drooping head.
How many times have you lifted me up from the depths of sorrow?
How many more times will I call you to come dry my tears?

Echoing through the still of night, my voice cries out to you.
Like the wind that gives the eagle flight, you come swiftly and soon.
You take the river of my sorrows for water to the flowers of my garden.
You hold my trembling hand and smooth my furrowed brow.

Fear remains beyond the door to the world outside my self.
I must pass Him each day I rise to live.
I believe I can do it with your hand to hold.
You offer it daily and I reach for it with gratitude.

Jan '09

2009-03-04T13:22:00.001-08:00

How Young is Older than They Were?

2009-03-02T20:28:00.000-08:00

My little Megan is only 8 years old. I forget too often how young she is. She is the 5th child in a family of 8 living children (would be 6 of 9 if Heather were still here). When there are older children in the family, it's easy to talk to the younger ones as if they were older, too.
Megan has always been so intelligent that, soon after she was speaking well, it was easy to make that mistake with her... to talk to her like a little adult instead of like a child.

I was watching some home video with my kids not long ago and realized something that made me very sad: Years ago, I spoke to my little boys (the older ones are boys) in so much more of a sweet and tender tone. I spoke to them as if there were little children. I was patient and didn't expect so much from them... maybe a disservice in some ways, yes, but they seemed to be allowed to be incapable, uneducated, not strong enough, not willing... and it was OK.
Meg-pie came along after a few years. She followed after four other children had come and grown to be 3, 5, 9, and 13. She came to a mother who was accustomed to speaking to older children, even a teenager.
Megan never demanded to be talked down to. She has never asked that I speak with a slightly softer voice when I ask her to get the laundry from the dryer... or put a load in to wash.
At 8 years old, I depend on her to help with the baby while I take care of this business or that. She changes diapers. She rocks her little brother to sleep. She loads and unloads the dishwasher, can straighten any room in the house as well as some adults, and can run the carpet shampooer. She comforts her 2 year old sister when a knee is skinned and I'm not handy and reads books to her 4 year old sister. Megan is so much more of a little mother at a younger age than any child I've ever known.
I hope, when she is older, she doesn't compare our old home movies of when she was little to those from when the older kids were little-- and come away feeling cheated. I wonder if she would hear the common tone in my voice compared to the musical voice of my younger-mother-self? I wonder if she will ever say anything about it, if she does hear it? I wonder if I'm the only one who notices?
Either way, I can't undo that which has been done. I can't go back and re-speak any of the words that have escaped my lips over the years to change the ring of them. Yet, I can go forward with more attention to the rest of Megan's childhood (and the younger three)... while it still lingers.
Megan is such a magnificent little girl. She will, no doubt grow to be a wonderful, choice woman. I look forward to the day I will see her in her splendor, having magnified and filled the measure of her creation. But, not yet. Not now. Not too soon. I want her childhood to linger longer. I want her to enjoy these fleeting years of her youth. I want her to feel loved and cherished. I want her to be happy.
Today, I will begin to remember she is only a little girl. Only 8 years old. Although very bright and skilled, she is still so young.
My self-corrected path will be one I walk leaning more toward her little hands hanging below mine, instead of expecting her so often to reach for me.

Chocolate Milk Too Close to the Edge

2009-02-27T12:22:00.000-08:00

Josh had so much fun with that little carton of chocolate milk someone left JUST within his reach too near the edge of the table. He's not even a year old yet and he's already getting the hang of being a kid. I'm looking forward to many more messes that little guy will certainly make around here. If I must say so myself.... WAY TOO CUTE! Even if the video is a little on the long side... oh, well.

Some Days are More Special Than Others

2009-02-27T12:08:00.000-08:00

I used to get frustrated when some little kid of mine would paste petroleum jelly all over her head and my bed, nightstand, alarm clock, wall, window... you know? I used to feel slightly impatient when I would find a sweet little brown faced boy on top of the refrigerator with chocolate cake mix all over his face, the top of the frig, down the wall beside the frig, in the rubber gaskets that seal the frig door... you know? Once upon a time I was slightly miffed when I found a happy preschooler filling the drawer of the front load washer with the whole, just opened box of Oxy-Clean. There was even a time when a baby face painted with all-day wear lipstick would have made me sigh. But there's no sense sweatn' the small stuff. If it weren't for the funny things like this, life wouldn't be so much fun. I wouldn't be able to sit around one of these days in my old age and say: remember when?

Levi did a good job catching Katherine soon after her little sneaky episode getting into my purse. She sure knows exactly where to find the fun stuff! That was one of the good things that happened today. Something fun like that happened yesterday, too... If you got this far, I guess you may have already seen it.

To Be... or Not to Be... huh?

2009-02-26T21:01:00.000-08:00

We came through a difficult few days pretty much OK. My mother is recovering from what might have killed her. We came to a place that was hard to be. The doc said she needed a tracheostomy (tube inserted in the neck through which oxygen is administered). She'd need to be in a nursing home. My mom has said repeatedly she doesn't want to be in a nursing home. She doesn't want to be on 'life support'. So, quickly we came to the crossroads. Was her life worth saving if it might be a life she said she hadn't wanted? Is it better to be? Or not to be?

It was a hard place for my sister, who holds my mom's medical power of attorney 'privileges'. My sister asked me what I thought. I said, 'Do it!' Let Mom wake up and tell us she doesn't want to live like this. Let her tell us she'd rather die than live in nursing home. Wimpy way to go, huh?

Turns out, we stood at a crossroad that removed from beneath our feet, even as the doctor prepared us for what must be if my mom was to live at all... never mind quality of life questions.

It turns out, the doctor has no way to factor into his medical judgment the power of prayer and priesthood blessings. It turns out that we don't know everything. We really don't know what will be when we aren't in control. In so many things, we just aren't the ones in control. Thank God.

It turns out that, sometimes, when we look into the face of the hardest choices we might make in life, those choices are taken out of our hands. When we ask for help, sometimes, we get it... even when it goes against the odds. How nice. I'm grateful.

It's good to not have to say whether or not someone you love will continue to breathe. It's good to know the Lord will have a say in who will be and who will not.

It's good.

We Live, We Die

2009-02-23T19:25:00.000-08:00

I was privileged to visit a sweet young mother today who gave birth to an adorable baby girl yesterday. It was such a nice, if brief, visit for me. I love the sweet spirit present when a new baby comes into the world. I shared a poem by Carol Lynn Pearson that was shared with me when I was expecting my first child almost 22 years ago. I don't know if I remember it completely, as it was spoken to me, and though I have a relatively good memory, I'm not sure if this is correct:

Day Old Child by Carol Lynn Pearson
My day old child lay in my arms.
With my lips pressed against his ear, I whispered softly:
How I wish, I wish that you could hear.
I've a hundred wonderful things to say,
(a tiny cough and a nod)
Hurry! Hurry! Hurry and grow, so I can tell you about God.

My day old baby's lips were still,
And my words only tickled his ear,
But a kind of light passed through his eyes,
And I saw this thought appear:
How I wish I had a voice and words!
I've a hundred things to say.
Before I forget, I'd tell you of God,
For I left him yesterday.

It is an emotional time for me. The woman in whom this mother's love and appreciation was sparked because of my own birth is lying in a hospital bed with what the doctor gives as a fifty-fifty chance for recovery. How quickly I imagine it seems to her that her life has come and now almost gone. How soon will it seem to me that my own life has passed, when I find myself in her position.

It seems not so long ago I was carrying my first child in my belly. It seems not so long ago I was a child myself. I see my last little baby (now almost a year old) lying, sleeping peacefully beside me on the bed as these keys click away in the night. I know he is someone's grandfather. I wonder who will visit him when he is old and in the ICU? Will it seem not so long ago to him that his own first child was born? Will that first child of his have any memory of me at all?

Joshua will not know my mother. I was born when she was my age. Now, I'm 40 and she is in her 80's... he is only 10 months old. I imagine I won't know all of my own grandchildren, either. Perhaps I won't be there to recite a favorite poem to their mother or father shortly after their birth. I hope they will have my journals, my photographs, my blog by which to know me, at least.

I'm reminded of an LDS song that says: Grandma-ma, what are these things? Proof you lived for one short space. Faded photos bent, but ageless; lovely tattered lace. I will be as you someday. Lift the pen. What does it tell? Words on paper saying softly, 'Love life. Live it well.'

That's another of my favorite lines: Love life. Live it well.

I hope my mother can say she lived her life well, no matter which side of the coin lands face up. I hope the new little one I met today will live well. I pray such for my eight living children. So I pray may we all.

Talent Shows and Football Games: Really One in the Same

2009-02-20T12:19:00.000-08:00

Charity is so talented. She sings (as do most 11 year old girls, right?) and loves to dance. She is clearly musically gifted, but what I consider to be one of her greatest talents is her ability to learn quickly and her instinctive application of that which she has learned in appropriate ways... in other words... she's pretty sharp.

She is learning to play the piano now, which is to say she's learning to read music and coordinate that with striking the correct keys on a piano keyboard. It's a process that takes many people years to get down. She is making amazingly rapid progress. Not only is she learning to read and strike well, but she likes to tinker around at the keyboard and create her own music. She has a very good ear for it.

The annual talent show for the fifth graders at her school came around and Charity wanted to be in it, of course. She wasn't sure if she should sing (a capella) a favorite song from the musical "Annie" or if she should play the piano. After consulting with her art and music teachers, she decided to play. After watching the show last night, I can see why she was encouraged to play the piano. She was the only kid who did. Most of the other kids sang to a CD recording. None of them sang as well as she could have, of course! ... one kid did a few dance moves and a few told some jokes.

Anyway, my little girl played a short piece she composed herself. The video associated with this post doesn't do justice to the way her music sounds live. It was the best I could get from the back of the room. I'm proud of her. She is such a sweet and good person and a joy in my life.

I should say, I'm not one who frequents fifth grade talent shows for the entertainment value. If my kid hadn't been in the show, I wouldn't have been at it. I should also say, in the spirit of full disclosure, that I'm not a football fan either. However, I didn't miss one game of the '08 season of middle school and high school football. I don't love the game. I do love my kids.

Someone commented to me last fall, "Sally, you must be a big football fan." I replied, "No, I'm a big Levi fan." I could have just as easily answered, "I'm a Philip fan," or "a Charity fan," or a "Daniel, Megan, Emily, Katherine, or Joshua fan." I guess it's like that for all of us who love our kids. Talent shows: Football games; they're all the same. We're banking on the impact of our fan status producing similar effects in our musicians as our football players. We hope our kids will remember we were there for them and it will have meant something good.

After all is said and done, it's what we remember that makes up so much of our lives. And what what we are able to recall will be the best of what we have... one of these days.

For as long as the internet and blogs exist, I hope this video clip helps to enable happy memories for Charity... and me.

What a Weekend!

2009-02-18T19:04:00.001-08:00

Well. It was quite a weekend. We followed Dad (Daniel Sr.) to Ingleside, Texas, where we have a 'second home'... haha... have to laugh at that. It'll be nice, once it's finished. Maybe we can rent it then and it won't feel like a huge weight around our financial necks... but I digress... We went to Ingleside. We planned to be together for Emily's 5th birthday and to take advantage of the long weekend, as there was no school Monday due to President's Day.

We picked oranges from our orange tree. We went to the beach. We broke the pinata and had cake. We attended the Portland LDS ward on Sunday and saw some friends we hadn't seen in a while.

Then, Sunday night I called my mother. She wasn't well. The short version is that she has pneumonia. My sister took her to the ER, but on the way had to give my mom rescue breaths and call the ambulance to pick her up. It was pretty traumatic for her, for both of them. Now my mom is in the ICU in the Guadalupe Valley Medical Center in Seguin. She is still in the woods, but it looks hopeful for her to recover. We are praying for her, of course.

Today, I got a call from the school nurse. Philip (17) has a wound on his knee and it looks infected, I was told. So... off to the doctor after school. It was pretty intense. I got to see the doctor inject the site and use his scalpel to cut pretty deeply into the affect tissue. Then, all the oozing began... and the prescription for a couple of pretty potent oral antibiotics.

He'll be OK. He's young and healthy. It will take longer for Grandma to bounce back.

Daniel and Sally Windham, San Diego 1985

2009-02-12T20:53:00.000-08:00

Isn't it fun having kids at the office?

2009-02-12T13:19:00.000-08:00

So... I love my kids. I like to have them around.

Back when I worked from 'the' office attached to our shop building, I'd come home and get the kids after school and take them back with me to finish up... from time to time. The video associated with this entry is much like it was on a regular basis when the kids came with me to work. I have to laugh when I watch it.

I'm smarter now, I think. I have a little corner in the game room where my desk and files and all are situated. I work late at night or when the little ones are napping... sometimes I plug them in to the TV, I hate to say. I snatch a bit of time here and there and do my best to keep it all in check. My kids can come and go and I can pause as needed to care for their needs... sometimes just their wants. It works. Mostly.

I hope, when all is said and done, that my children will each be able to look back on their childhood(s) and say they felt loved and valued. I hope each one knows and feels he/she was cherished. I hope they remember how I often stopped what I was doing at my desk to help with homework or to kiss a boo boo. I wonder if they will remember how I typed with one hand and held the baby on my shoulder. I wonder if they will remember being held on my shoulder while I worked.

When I am old, I hope I will not look back on these days with regret that I spent my time unwisely. I hope I will have cuddled my children enough. I hope I will have smiled into their eyes often enough and frowned not often at all. I hope I can remember how it feels to look into the eyes of my child, loving and being loved so purely and completely. I hope I will not look back and feel sad that I was so worried about getting my work done that I had neglected the greatest work I am about; that which is not done on a computer keyboard: That which is only done with gentleness and love; that which is done over a lifetime and begins with the birth of a child. "The greatest work you can ever do is that which you do within the walls of your own home." (David O. McKay) Not the work I do at this machine in the corner of my game room... but the work I do within the hearts of my children and husband. And by default, the work that is wrought upon my own heart.

I'm so glad to have kids at the office!

Life in the Slow Lane

2009-02-09T20:20:00.000-08:00

Philip, my 17 year old son, was backing out of his usual parking place in front of the house this morning, on his way to seminary, and side-swiped his granny's car. So... that set me mood of the day. Poor kid. He always leaves around 5:30 A.M. from the same place and pulls out in the same direction. He had forgotten that Granny was here overnight. So... first fender-bender. Could have been worse, right? It's not like he was speeding down the freeway and barreled into somebody. He was following his routine and was on his way to do something good; to learn the Scriptures. He wasn't out and up to no good. Accidents happen.

I had to tell Philip that, when his dad was 17, he wrecked his car near a swimming hole we called 'Sequin Bridge' because he had been trying to fish-tail in the gravel. Daniel/Dad did manage to get the car swinging back and forth for a moment before he hit pavement sans gravel. Then the tires took hold and he ran right into the bridge's cement railing and totaled his car...the car he had only recently paid for in full... with money he earned himself. Daniel (hubby/dad) was pretty irritated about Philip hitting Granny's car until he remembered that little incident himself. (He was probably a little more irritated at first than he might have been if it hadn't rained for the first time in months all over the sleeping bags and camping equipment he had exposed in the flat bed trailer in our driveway overnight. I had to secretly giggle. I mean, come on, the weather man did say there would finally be rain.)

Philip left his keys here at home and asked me to drive him to school today. Of course, I did it without question. He was upset. He felt really bad about Granny's car. While we were on the way, we saw a young Hispanic male walking along the roadside toward the middle school. I told Philip I felt bad for the poor kid who was already late and obviously had nobody at home to drive him, or worse maybe, nobody who WOULD drive him. Philip said that kid didn't care. He told me that kid was taking his time and wasn't worried about getting to school.

I told Philip the story of sour grapes (I was surprised he hadn't already known that one). I explained that the kid probably felt let down on so many levels and that one person reaching out to help him might make a difference in his life.

That kid probably DID want to get to school and DID care that he was late. He might think he couldn't have what other kids had, and maybe he told himself he didn't really want it anyway...but he was lying to himself. Maybe he told himself that what other people had wasn't all that great.

Philip and I shared a spiritual moment together as we likened the possible circumstance of that young stranger to peoples described in the Book of Mormon and how is was only because of the unrighteous traditions of the parents and grandparents that so many of the rising generation when astray.

I was determined to go pick up that young man and drive him to school. I had a thought that maybe I could make a difference in his life on some small level. Maybe he wouldn't be afraid to care if a stranger cared that he got to school.

After I dropped off Philip, I went back to look for the young man. I drove all the way across town to almost reach the middle school when I finally realized someone had already picked him up and he was most likely at school already. I was glad.

As I crossed the freeway to come home, I saw that same young man coming from the convenience store on the way. He had a big soda or something in his hand and was sipping away as he strolled leisurely in the direction he had been before.

I did not turn around to pick him up. I guess he got to school and hour or so late. I don't guess it made much of a difference to him... or anyone else, for that matter.

The Next Day

2009-01-28T16:18:00.000-08:00

Daniel Jr. spent the day with Jen, his recreational therapist. Daniel, it should be noted, has, and was born with, Cerebral Palsy. CP is just a waste-basket term to describe any number of abnormal neuromuscular symptoms that can't otherwise be attributed to a diagnosed condition. Cerebral Palsy actually means 'shaking brain.' That hardly applies to Daniel, though. Neither does his brain shake, nor any other part of his body. Back to the reporting, though: Daniel spent the day with Jen. He generally enjoys his time with her on Wednesdays. They go to the "Y" and swim, then see a movie or have lunch. Sometimes they bowl or go to a video game store.

Last week Daniel came home a little unhappy. He had had a discussion with Jen and felt like he didn't make his case very well when the two of them disagreed. Daniel is a little disadvantaged when it comes to debate. He is not gifted in the area of persuasive speech and doesn't argue well with anyone except his siblings.

Jen told Daniel she believes we should all be paying more taxes to help support the needs of the disadvantaged in this country. From the things Daniel reported, it was clear Jen is liberal and most likely Democrat. It should be noted, the Windham Family is conservative. I'd not go so far as to say we are Republican anymore, for it seems to us that the Republican Party has abandoned the principles by which we govern our lives. There are standards and ideals we hold; strong beliefs held by those noble men who founded this country. The notion that hard work and endurance, honesty and good will are qualities of character each person should posses, is one too many in today's society find irrelevant. We find, though, that these virtues are utterly required to achieve joy and fulfillment in this life.

There was a time when the food you grew in your garden was most of what you had to feed your family. No body came around from the township to take 20% of that food away to redistribute as the town council decided was appropriate. What happened to the idea that by the sweat of your own brow you shall eat your bread? I understand the desire to help those in need, but charity becomes counterfeit when it turns to theft. It is wrong to forcibly take from one man because it is believed another man has a need. It is wrong to steal from one who has worked hard to earn what he has in order to give to another who hasn't. If a person is in need through no fault of his own, let it be charity who lifts him up. Why should he be given that which was stolen from another?

Most every child will hold fast to a toy when another tries to grab it away. The same child will share that toy with willingness and no animosity if persuaded correctly. On the same note, it does harm to a child to be taught to grab from another and to be able to keep that which he wrongfully took from the child who 'had it first'. I believe this truth can be applied to all cases in which something is taken from someone by force. Whether it be a toddler, a bully in the school yard or the government.

After a few generations of grabbers and keepers and stealers have come and gone, we are now left with an alarming number of people who see no wrong in taking what they want and paying nothing for it; no work, no risk, nothing endured. Too many people believe it is the place of government to decide who has enough money, who has too much money and who should have some of that money that belongs to someone else. So many people have been indoctrinated with this counterfeit notion of charity that no one stops to wonder at the irony in the stand that some people are just too rich. Are some people too rich? Are some people too educated? Are some people too happy? Too dark? Too beautiful? Too ugly? Are some people too free?

What has happened to us America? Wake up! At some point I pray we will listen to the council of the wisest man to walk the earth and we will teach the hungry how to fish. To steal from the fisherman is wrong, though it may be politically correct.

My 21 year old son who supposedly has a shaking brain can see the logic in this, though he may not be able to argue the point well with Jen. I'm happy to have the last word for him, for today, at least.

Premier Edition: don't know what I'm doing

2009-01-27T21:55:00.000-08:00

At the beginning of 2009 we find ourselves on shaky ground. With the election behind us, we look forward with a little trepidation and concern over what will become of the economy. When one is employed by the local school district, college or some branch of the local, state or national government, one tends to feel secure in the regular arrival of a paycheck. We, however, are self-employed. Not only do we have to find potential projects, but bid them low enough to get the work and still make enough money to pay our own obligations and make payroll to support the families of those who depend on us for their regular paycheck, so to speak. It's stressful. And we haven't received our bailout check in the mail as of today... so I don't know how things will turn out this year. Honestly, we ask ourselves if we'll need to let rooms like so many families did during the Depression.

Regardless: We are grateful for the wonderful family with which the Lord has blessed us. Nine children in all, counting, of course as we always do, our sweet daughter who passed away in 1990 of SIDS. Now, we are grateful to share our lives with our living four sons and four daughters, namely: Daniel Jr., age 21, Philip, age 17, Levi, age 13, Charity, age 11, Megan, age 8, Emily, age 4, Katherine, age 2, and Joshua, age 9 months. I believe I would still count myself blessed to even live in a tent so long as my children would be healthy and well fed and we all could be together. I don't think Daniel Sr. would ever let that happen, though. In all these many years we've been together, since 1984, he has worked hard to provide for the needs of our firstly small, now very large family. He is a choice man. The world would do well to be filled with such men as is my husband.

At forty years old, I can say I've known many people and seen at least a few things in life. My eldest, Daniel Jr. has said, "I'm the happiest guy I know." of himself. I can say of myself, as well, I am the happiest woman I know.

The Lord has said 'if ye are prepared, ye shall not fear.' He has also told us that 'God does not give man the spirit of fear.' Then why should we fear? The winds may blow and the waves may crash about us, but the Savior commanded the waves and the wind: Peace, be still. I feel that peace. I know in whom I must trust and to whom I may look for calm and reassurance.

I don't know what I'm doing, but the Lord knows what He is doing. That is my motto for the beginning of 2009. It may be one useful to more than just me. Please feel free to adopt it for yourself, if you like.

Until next time.
Sally Windham