Grandma

It has been nearly a year and a half since my grandma's passing.  And I miss her often.  She rarely called me, for fear that she would catch me at a bad time... which she claimed to be every moment of the day with all my kids running around.  And truthfully, she was right.  But I loved the times that she did call, usually to ask me if she could purchase a box of frozen steaks or chicken breasts to mail to me, just to help me with quick meal prep for when I'm too spent to make anything myself.  I loved those gifts-- something practical, thoughtful, and consumable, for which I didn't have to "find" a place to put it.  Those phone calls were usually quick and to-the-point, with a few anecdotes to makes each other laugh.  Grandma had a great laugh, even though it usually ended with her hacking up a lung.  A consequence of smoking most of her life, although she had quit ten years earlier.

I do miss her.

Although, on Friday evening as I stood dressed in white in the temple's baptismal font with Kevin by my side, I could feel her near.  Her name came up on the monitor in front of us, and Kev and I looked at each other smiling, with tears in our eyes.  It was an honor to be her proxy.

Earlier in the week I called Gramps and asked his permission to take her name to the temple.  He said, "You know your grandma was sort of a religious philosopher... I think she would be pleased...  And I'm fine with it, too.  I'm what you would call a 'liberal Catholic."  I had to chuckle.  Grandpa cracks me up.

But I think he was right.  I think she really was pleased.  My mom used to joke with her, "You know, Mom, that you really are practically a Mormon?"  After all, Grandma had finally quit smoking, she didn't drink anymore, had read and believed in The Book of Mormon, and she faithfully watched General Conference.  She just never wanted to "take the plunge" into the baptismal waters.  Thought she was "fine".

Before Kev and I had left for the Youth temple trip that evening, he had asked if I would sit in the chapel with the Young Women and talk with them following the confirmations.  He gave me some paper and pencils, and wanted me to give them a chance to write as well.  He gave me very little direction... which bothered me.  I like to feel like I have a purpose, and I wasn't sure what he wanted me to say.  But as I stood in front of them, all I could think about was Grandma, and how grateful I was that I could take part in this beautiful, essential ordinance on her behalf.  And I thought of how each of the deceased sisters for whom each of these girls had entered the waters of baptism had family members who loved them just as much as I loved Grandma-- that these women were just as loved and treasured, and of just as much value to their loved ones and to the Father as my grandmother.

One day we will be reunited.  Some people believe that this life is it-- that death is the end, so might as well live it up while we are here.  How sad.  And empty.  If only they understood that the Spirit does, in fact, live on.  How might that change their thinking, their choices, their lives even?

I can miss my grandma... but I know I will see her again.

Until then maybe I should order some frozen chicken breasts or steaks.  You know, for old-time's sake.

A Seed Has Sprouted

Sunday morning actually went pretty smoothly, compared to most normal Sunday mornings getting the kids off the church without Kevin.  There was very little fighting, very little complaining, and we actually were able to leave the house exactly when I wanted.  I was even able to get stew cooking in the Crock-pot for dinner.  This was all quite welcome considering I had a choir concert that day, for which I would need to leave church early, right after Sacrament Meeting.

Then we pulled into the parking lot.

In unbuckling Eve from her car seat, I found she had pooped.  I sighed and walked everyone in, bags hanging from my arms, as well as a gallon jug of lemonade in hand, which I was needing to put in the fridge to chill for the reception honoring our retiring conductor after that afternoon's concert.

I had just made it through the door into the foyer when my new visiting teaching companion saw me and wanted to talk to me about visiting sisters, as well as give me her correct phone number, etc.

Eventually, I made it to my seat, looking a bit frazzled.  I mean, I still had bags to unload, a baby's diaper to change, and a drink to take to the kitchen.

By the time I got back in the chapel with a fresh Eve, the meeting had already begun and the congregation was singing the opening hymn.  And both girls were crammed to one side of the pew-- the side closest to the aisle of course, leaving me to room to get in.  I whispered for them to scoot over.  They argued with me.  "I don't want to!"  "I was sitting here first!"  "I don't want to sit by Drew!"  I repeated to scoot over, in a more "firm" whisper.  The arguing continued, and I could feel all the eyes upon me.  I said, "Get out.  To the foyer."  They stared at me, and I repeated it, my whisper almost not a whisper anymore.  Sami was slow to respond, so I grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the chapel.  Allie followed.  Once in the hall, I noticed all the seats in the foyer were full, so I pointed to a spot on the wall on the far side of the foyer.  "Sami, you sit there.  Don't move."  And I pointed to a similar spot on the near side of the foyer.  "Allie, you here.  Time-out."

And I walked back in the chapel.  Alone.  They were out there for maybe five minutes.  And as much as all three of us were embarrassed, at least I had those five minutes of peace and quiet.  Well, except for the "epic battle" noises Drew was making with whatever toy he had.  I really shouldn't let him take toys to church anymore, but I digress...

I eventually went and brought them back in the chapel while the congregation sang the Sacrament hymn.  I eyed Allie as she entered the pew and sat right where she had previously.  I looked at her and again said, "Scoot over."  This time she was wiser and made room for me and Sami.

Since it was Fast Sunday, the testimonies began after the Sacrament.  Member after member walked up to the stand to testify of what they knew to be true.

And then Sami turned to me.  She whispered, with a bright smile, "Am I old enough to bear my testimony?"  Shocked, I responded, "Of course! Do you want to?"

"Ummm, sure, but I have to think about what I would say first."  She leaned back in the pew, looked up pensively, and put her hand on her chin.  A minute later, she shot forward and said very matter-of-factly, pointing one finger in the air, "Ah ha!  I know what I would say!"  Again, I asked her she wanted to go up.  She agreed, but only if I went with her.

Minutes later it was her turn.  She walked up to the microphone and looked at me worried.  "What do I say?"

"Whatever is in your heart.  Say what you know."

She whispered, "But how do I start?  Do I say, 'I'd like to bear my testimony...'?"

"Sure, that's fine."

She put her mouth to the microphone and began.  "I'd like to bear my testimony that I know that Jesus is real... and I know that this is the true church.  In the name of Jesus Christ, amen."

All her own words.  All from her heart.

Suddenly the frustrating events from earlier in the meeting didn't seem so annoying.  In spite of the arguing and pettiness, they are learning, they are listening, and seeds of faith and testimony have been planted in their hearts.  And, by golly, they are even beginning to sprout.

Sami proved it.