BECOMING AS LITTLE CHILDREN...

NOTE:  I am now in my 15th year of writing a monthly Visiting Teaching Letter to the sisters in my ward who are on the "no-contact" list.  A few years ago I compiled some of those "LETTERS OF TESTIMONY" into a small booklet to share with family and friends.

For the last several months the topic of the monthly Relief Society lesson has featured attributes of the Savior.  For April the attribute for study is "without guile or hypocrisy".  It is an attribute I want to emulate all the time, though I fall down sometimes. 

In thinking about personal experiences with this particular attribute of Christ, I remembered this little incident in the early 70's.  I have decided to keep it as a handy reference to remind me why the Savior has asked us to become like little children.  (See The Ensign, April 2015, p. 7 for the complete lesson reference.)

April 2015

I have a unique painting of Jesus Christ displayed in my home.  In it Jesus looks like a carefree young man who is carrying a little boy on his shoulders.  They both look happy.

The scriptures are clear that Christ liked to be with little children.  He took them into his arms and blessed them in both the Old and New Worlds.  In Mark he said, "...for of such is the kingdom of God."

We can imagine that the kingdom of God is peopled with those who are without guile or hypocrisy--that is what little children are.  We can learn much about being without guile from them.  They are innocent, honest, and pure.  They are not trying to act differently from what they are feeling or thinking.   There is no ulterior motive for their actions, no putting on a mask to hide something they are not.  They are simply like Christ--without guile or hypocrisy which is the attribute of Jesus Christ we are learning about this month.

Years ago when my two oldest boys were just toddlers, my husband decided to go back to school and therefore went straight to the university every night when he left work in Denver before coming home to Arvada.  That meant the evenings without him were long and lonely.  So I devised a little activity that my small boys and I looked forward to and enjoyed for a couple of hours on those weekday evenings.  I called it "School" and suggested since Daddy was at school, we could be at school, too.  Every night after their baths, we would gather around the kitchen table where I had laid out little exercise books, puzzles, word games and other fun learning activities.  That was the incentive they had not to spend too much time playing in the bath tub.

One night Brice was having such a good time in the tub, he just didn't want to get out.  I'm not sure if I had something special I wanted to share with both of them at the same time or maybe I was weary or had something I needed to do after they went to bed or maybe I was just tired of being alone at night without Ross.  But...after repeated reminders, I gave the ultimatum that if Brice didn't get out of the tub right then, he would have to go straight to bed and not play "School" with us that night.

Another few minutes passed while Harold and I kept busy doing something together at the kitchen table.  Suddenly a scrubbed and cheerful Brice

appeared in the doorway with a bright smile ready to join in.  I flat out told him he had taken too much time and lost his turn to play school that night.  I was firm. "Go to bed!"  Brice's face fell in disappointment and his smile faded, but I was adamant.

Then Harold spoke up.  He told me Brice hadn't meant to take so long in the tub, and couldn't we--just this once--let him play with us instead of having to go to bed all by himself?  Please...?

It wasn't what Harold said.  It was the two big tears that were coursing down his cheeks in pure empathy that made me realize these weren't two little kids bent on making me upset or deliberately dawdling so MY plan didn't work.  Here were two sweet little boys who just wanted to be together with me and do the fun things we had been doing every single night.  That flash of understanding stabbed me straight to my hardened heart.

I learned a lot about "without guile and hypocrisy" that night and why Christ put the little children in his midst and told the people they needed to become like them-- because the little children were like him.  Understanding that concept will help us strive to follow Christ's example.

President Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the First Presidency said, "None of us is quite as Christlike as we know we should be.  But we earnestly desire to overcome our faults and the tendency to sin.  With our heart and soul we yearn to become better with the help of the Atonement of Jesus Christ."

That inspiring picture of Jesus with the little boy on his shoulders is on the wall that faces the staircase in my home.  Almost every day when I come down those stairs I am reminded that Christ liked to be with little children.  I want to be "child-like".  I want Christ someday to "like" to be with me.

The lesson says, "We know 'we will be judged according to our actions, the desires of our hearts, and the kind of people we have become.'  Yet as we strive to repent, we will become more pure--and 'blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God'".

We cannot go far astray if we keep looking to little children, who are without guile and hypocrisy, as our role models while we work on emulating the Savior.

LIFE IS GOOD....

EVERY FLIGHT ATTENDANT HAS A STORY...

Most of the stories have to do with some kind of assignment that turned from the normal to the out of the ordinary; something like deadheading to an assignment, laying over, and then deadheading back--for more than just one leg or two.  Or maybe sometime they got "lost" in the system and the crew desk didn't locate them for a couple of days while they just enjoyed laying around a hotel until they were "found". I've heard some stories where FA's ended up flying just a fraction of the assigned hours and still got paid for the whole trip.  In short, anything that would make a flight attendant hearing it wish she'd had an experience like it.

I used to tell Louis about these incidents and wonder aloud why nothing like THAT ever happened to me.  It seems like the crew desk always knows where I am, and for every flight that gets cancelled or changed for some other crew,  MY flight is always the one right before or right after the cancelled one.  So, my crew ends up with the excess passengers who are stuffed onto an already full flight.

A few years ago I had "kind of" an amazing--for me--assignment that ended up where I flew only nine hours out of 25, had a day room, got out of a cross-country LAXIAD flight, deadheaded when some plane had a mechanical, and spent 25 hours in San Francisco--but at the hotel I requested instead of having to go downtown.  When I got home from that trip and told Louis what had happened he said,"  Well, now YOU have a story."  But as the years have rolled on, it has lost its luster and everyone else's experiences sound better than mine once again.

Until last week.....I got a call at 4:30 AM for a 9:05 AM check in to begin a four-day trip.  I didn't have to be the purser, it was all on an airbus and one 757 which is a treat after working on those new 737 900's, and there was a long layover scheduled in Fort Lauderdale.  I wasn't too keen on that since I had a layover there duringSpring Break a couple of years ago.  The whole place--beach, boardwalk, hotel, eateries, etc.--were full of students there for a riotous good time.  I hadn't enjoyed it.

However, this ID noted that after a very looooong first day DENDFW, DFWEWR, EWRFLL over eight hours of flight time  all on the same plane, our layover would be 22 hours at a Marriott Resort Hotel in Pompano Beach.  Woop-de-doo!  That meant NOTHING to me.  Still didn't when we got there because by then it was late at night and the drive from the airport had been about 30 minutes.  The room was exceptionally clean and crisp, as were all the acoutrements. It looked like it had probably been remodeled recently.  But it was dark and I couldn't see anything around the place.  Every time I saw some strip mall or shopping center while we were driving there, we kept going further down the road which would be much too far for even ME to walk the next morning.  Oh, did I mention the desk clerk said the breakfast in the hotel restaurant 6 AM to 11AM was free for United people?  I decided that even though I was so tired and had planned to sleep a solid eight hours, the waffles were calling my name. I love hotel breakfast buffet waffles.  I planned to get there about nine AM.

The breakfast buffet was worth the entire trip!  I have never seen such huge serving platters (gorgeous white crockery ones) filled with fresh strawberries, blueberries, black berries, raspberries, pineapple chunks, melon cubes, and sweet smelling oranges.  There was also all the regular stuff for a breakfast buffet including scrambled eggs, tasty strips of bacon cooked just right, and all the pastries, yogurt, cereal, etc. you could want.  But....the waffles and pancakes weren't part of the buffet.  They were cooked to order, so there was a charge associated with them. I decided I could get my fill of that beautiful fruit and all the rest and skip the waffles this time.  And, the orange juice was freshly squeezed, with a sprig of mint and an orange slice over the rim of the frosty glass.  Food fit for a king!  I even had the option of sitting out on the beach restaurant's lanai where it was just a walk through the gate to the private beach right on the water.  I opted to stay inside.  (You know how much I am not too keen on the beach and the water.)

Then I went out walking. It was pretty much touristy stuff, but I had fun looking at everything and buying postcards.  Then it was back to the hotel for a much needed shower as the temp was in the 80's with humidity, of course.  I had the rest of the afternoon to read, snooze, write postcards--all of which I did out on my own little balcony with a pleasant view of the water, almost a picture postcard view in itself!  Since our limo pick-up wasn't until after seven that night, I'd had almost 12 golden hours to myself.  Life doesn't get much better than that.

Wait...it does!  We got to the airport only to find out that everyone who had been scheduled to fly to Newark on our flight had been put on the Continental metal flight which left an hour before ours did.  We had ZERO passengers in First Class and ZERO passengers in the Economy Cabin.  So, the three of us sat in the First Class seats, ate the First Class food, and acted like passengers for the three hours up to Newark. LIFE CAN'T GET MUCH BETTER THAN THAT!

And that's MY flight attendant story which elicits oohs and aahs from other FA's when I share it.  LIFE IS INDEED GOOD!

NO EMPTY CHAIRS....

The Denver Temple was closed five weeks instead of two weeks for its winter cleaning.  That seemed like a long time to be away from the temple.  It opened again last Tuesday, but I was gone and the first day I was able to go wasn't until yesterday.  Louis and I drove down together since his shift on Saturdays goes from noon until the end.  It was also our Greeley Stake Temple Day with a chapel meeting at 1 pm.  I haven't been able to go to any of those for some time, but I have always enjoyed the spiritual message from one of the members in the temple presidency.

Yesterday's message was no exception.  President Poulson asked us if we believed that the people on the other side of the veil were able to pray.  I nodded my head in a resounding, "YES!"  He then went on to relate a very interesting story of one man's promptings to secure an Endowment for a pilot he had met in 1965 when he was serving with the Air Force in Viet Nam.  That was a moving segue to thinking about my own promptings about this very subject.

For a long time I used to wonder if Jeremy were praying for us and cheering us on to make right choices so we would be together as a family again.  I didn't know how Heaven was set up.  But several years ago I quit wondering whether or not people were praying for us from the other side of the veil because I have a knowledge that is true.  I know Jeremy yearns for us to do what is right, obtain the necessary ordinances, and live the plan of salvation here as preparation to be with him.  In fact all of our extended family is praying the same thing...especially Dad's, as so many of them still are awaiting those temple ordinances that will literally free them.

I haven't said anything about this to the Nichols Family for a long time, but I constantly think about our family and the promises made in the temple long ago that we could be together forever if we lived to that end.  So, I just want to encourage ALL of us to think about what direction we're moving and make any changes--big or small--to align ourselves with the choices that will bring about an eventual happy family reunion after we leave our lives here.

NO EMPTY CHAIRS...  To that end, I add my prayers to Jeremy's.

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!

Today marks the 91st anniversary of the Melvin Reed and Maude Marie Crane Huggins Family.  They were married by their bishop on a cold winter's night in Idaho with very little in the way of celebration.  I believe maybe a few gifts from family and friends, but no party or reception.  That kind of partying was not so much the accepted social custom at that time.  Money was scarce, and what little people had was husbanded for the necessities. 

Melvin and Maude got on the train almost immediately and went to Salt Lake City where they set up housekeeping in Riverton where my dad's parents had a farm.  My mother said it was such a pleasure to arrive in the Salt Lake Valley and see plowed fields with circling seagulls instead of the snow and ice they had left behind.

That was the inauspicious start of 60 years of marriage.  But in spite of its modest beginnings, it was a productive and fruitful partnership which generated people with the same hearty genes and determination to endure to the end just as their immediate pioneer parents and grandparents had done.

We are part of that noble birthright and heritage.  I cherish the upbringing of honesty, integrity, and hard work which I passed on to you.  Though you have not liked my saying this, we were the meat and the potatoes, the work horses who get the world's work done.  We will never be famous, but we will be revered in our own family for character traits which reflect the birthright of good people who tried to do their best.

Happy Anniversary! to all of those who carry that Huggins link in their family history line. 

     At the sheep camp in Idaho where they met about 1922                         This is the way you probably remember them.

MY SUMMER'S DAY WALK TO THE MANHATTAN NEW YORK TEMPLE

Last week our Relief Society had a night meeting focused on a service project to provide shoes and socks for  a homeless shelter in Greeley.  The theme was "Walk a Mile in My Shoes".  In addition to taking new or gently used items to donate, if we had a pair a shoes with an interesting story, we were encouraged to share it.  I was scheduled to begin a three-day trip that morning and couldn't attend, but I took my donation AND my walking shoes to the RS Secretary who lives in the next block--just in case they didn't get enough participation at least they had one story to share.  Turned out they DID read my story, and I even got a couple of comments today at Church that the sisters liked hearing it. This is what I shared with them. 

If these old walking shoes might talk, they could tell a lot about where they have been.  But of all the miles they have covered with me, the following story would be their most cherished memory.

Last June I was assigned to fly six all-night trips, first to Phoenix then through the night to New York where our crew had a 25 hour layover at a hotel directly across the street from the new 9/11 Memorial in Lower Manhattan near the Financial District.

I had never been to the Manhattan Temple since it was built in 2004, though my daughter Brittany and I attended Sunday services there in 1998.  But I really wanted to do a session at this temple in New York City which is near famous landmarks like the Lincoln Center and Carnegie Hall.  Renting a car was out of the question.  The fare for a taxi was prohibitive.  The Subway was a viable choice, but after looking at the simple map at the hotel desk, I was certain I could walk there and drew a line from my hotel to the temple.   Google directions showed it to be a 5.1 mile walk.  It was easily a doable challenge, so I started to make plans.

We usually land at the airport after an all-nighter about 6 a.m. Then we are picked up by a limousine service which delivers us to our hotel by 8 a.m. At that point in my trip, all I want to do is go to bed for a few hours!  Unfortunately every time I did that, it was usually about three or four p.m. by the time I showered and was out on the street.  On the first trips it was so late in the afternoon after I did all that, I decided to give up the plan to walk to the temple that day.  One afternoon I even got as far as 14^th Street before I figured I had better turn around and get back to the hotel by dark. 

On the fifth trip I knew what I was going to do—not go to bed but walk straight to the temple for the 11 a.m. session.  I was pretty sure I could do that.  Once I got to the hotel that Tuesday, I changed my clothes, put a skirt, shoes and stockings into my backpack along with my temple recommend and a bottle of water, and I started my journey.  I began walking north on West Street bordering the Hudson River until 14^th Street which I followed to 7^th Avenue.  I walked through neighborhoods you would recognize because you have heard about them or seen them in the movies or on TV—Chinatown, Little Italy, Soho, Greenwich Village, Chelsea, Tribeca, The Garment District, up to Midtown then I followed Broadway to the corner of West 65^th Street and Columbus Avenue where the temple is located.

 It was 10:15 by the time I got there, and I was hot and sweaty though it was still June and only in the low 70’s. I had just enough time to use the restroom in the Visitor’s Annex to freshen up, put on my skirt, stockings and shoes then present myself at the recommend desk.  It was quite a walk—even for me—but it was sooo worth it. 

The temple is unique in that it is built inside an existing building, completely sound-proofed from all the noise of New York City.  And something else unique is that the door handles are shaped like the Statue of Liberty torch!  The temple is small, but in my session it looked like there were people from every continent but maybe Australia. Many of them were using headphones to hear the instructions in another language.  It was truly a “gathering of Israel”.  I deemed it a privilege to be there!  After I left the temple, I felt like I was walking on air—but I rode the Subway back to my hotel where I had a long tall cool drink of water and laid down to rest.

On my sixth and final trip later that same week, our hotel was changed and we went to Morristown, New Jersey, for our 25 hour stay.  I was really glad I had made the effort to walk to the temple when I did.  The opportunity would have been gone if I had waited any longer.  It was an experience I will always remember as special!

Georgia Nichols

 

AN ABUNDANCE OF BLESSINGS...

Louis accepted a position as Controller at Computer Sites Inc., a construction company which builds computer rooms for businesses.  He begins Monday and is excited for a new challenge and opportunity to use the skills and talents he has been able to build on at Colorado Ranchers and other places he's worked over the years.

I am not unaware of the font of our blessings--and another silver lining, though the job is still an hour's commute away--and am grateful for answers to prayers.  Ours and those offered in our behalf.  Plus, I know it didn't hurt any to have the missionaries living with us at this time.

Missed only two weeks of pay, so all is right with the world once again!

TIME CAPSULE....

As you may or may not be aware, I attended my 50th High School Reunion in Rawlins last August.  Out of the official count of 114 graduates, more than one third of them are already dead.  That's a sobering thought.  Another sobering piece of news was that the high school, which first opened for classes in the fall of 1959, was going to be torn down.  The original building was an L-shaped structure to which another wing had been added to make it a U-shape long after we graduated.  Separate buildings added in the rear of the school yard housed the P.E. department and a swimming pool.  I think there were other additions, as well, but not having attended school during that time I don't know exactly what they were.  But, there is asbetos in the core of the building, and also the charge to bring the school into compliance with handicap regulations means it would need an elevator.  Both of those updates--removing the asbestos and installing an elevator--apparently are cost prohibitive.  It would be cheaper to tear everything down and begin anew.

In consequence of that decision, we were told that our records from the school district archives would be available for pick-up after Labor Day if we had someone who could pick them up for us following email instruction to the school.  My niece Cynthia Kiser's son Justin picked them up for me and mailed them to me.

I was expecting some really great gold mine of teacher's comments and the like, especially from Junior High and High School.  Instead it was all of my report cards from Kindergarten through Eighth Grade (which I already have in my scrapbooks down the basement) and some achievement test scores.  It also looks like there are some IQ results, showing that I got dumber as I got older.  Imagine that!  (And now I am dumber still.)  Kind of an overall disappointment.

However, there is an "Autobiography" that I wrote which Louis read and insists I share.  He says he is blown away by the things I expressed, as he thinks it is the core, even then, of the same person and testimony as now.  For some reason he thinks the maturity level in this piece of writing is far beyond what I think is about 15 years.  He said most kids that age didn't think deep like that.  (It really isn't all that mature.  It reads like I was supposed to answer questions.) I'm pretty sure it  was the beginning of Ninth Grade because the penmanship is still big, and very rounded cursive.  I stated I wanted to be a social worker ( I admired the RJHS principal who WAS a social worker) but from the time I had Mildred Chaffin for English as a Freshman in High School I knew I wanted to be a high school English teacher, too. So, this was probably the beginning of my Freshman year as I list all teachers in Eighth Grade and that I graduated second in the class for Junior High Commencement.  Also, my mother had been in the hospital most of the summer before I was a Freshman.  Comments about "sad when someone close to me is ill" sound like it was a fresh experience.  Anyway here it is.... complete with improper punctuation, awkward phrasing and misspellings--I didn't change a thing--though I itched to do so.  What do you think?

AUTOBIOGRAPHY

 

 

My start in this wonderful life came on a cold December morning in  1945. Sunday the second was the day and the time was 1:16 a.m. My arrival was at Carbon County Memorial Hospital in Rawlins, Wyoming.  I was the eighth gitrl in a family of nine.  My weight at birth was seven pounds, three ounces.  F.A. Mills was my doctor.

 

My father was Melvin Reed Huggins whose parents were John Ephriam Huggins and Lovinia Anne Draper whose parents were George A. Huggins and Eliza Adams and Nephi Draper and Charolette Elizabeth Johnson. 

 

My mother was Maude Marie Crane whose parents were James George Crane and Sarah Jane Butterfield whose parents were James Crane and Elizabeth Stewart and Alman Butterfield and Elizabeth Annie Farmer.  (My genealogy is more complete but too involved to go further at this time.)

 

I had innoculations for whooping cough and diptheria in 1946.  I had whooping cough when eight months old, chicken pox and broncial trouble in my thirteenth month.  I had scarlet fever when in second grade and mumps when in fourth plus other childhood diseases like colds and measles.

 

Our address was 1019 Eighth Street Rawlins, Wyoming when I was born and it still is. 

 

My fears when I was a small child were of shadows.  I used to imagine them as being real.

 

I had many early playmates among whom were George Huggins, Barbara Vander Kooi, Lynn Butterfield, Teddy Eyre, and Chad Cahoon.

 

My early ideals were movie stars and I wanted to become one.  My ideals and ambitions have since changed.

 

My memories of home life are pleasant.  We had no imporant visitors like the governor, but L.D.S. Missionaries were frequently at our home.

 

Our family often went up to Snowy Range or other camp grounds for family outings.  Often we just went for a ride.

 

Memories of my parents are those of kind and loving people.  Being the youngest in the family and with the rest of my family in school, most of my time was spent with my mother.  My father used to take me with him quite a bit when he went down town or to the dumps.  When he came in from the railroad he would give me a ride on his knee.  He had favorite names for me.  Most often he would call me Chickee-Pete or Chum.

 

Discipline in our home was taken care of quite smoothly and without much todo.  I got few spankings.  My mother used to handle dicipline by setting me on a chair and telling me to think about what I did.  I could get off when I would be a "good girl".  This system worked very well and I have no unpleasant memories of cruel beatings and harsh words.  My father spanked me only twice.  Both for good, sound reasons.  He usually just talked to us when we disobeyed.

 

Our family has gone on many wonderful vacations.  Probably the most impressive was when I went to Hawaii when I was six years old.  My only regret is that I wasn't at a more observant age to see the magnificent scenery.

 

On August 9, 1948, we lost a very dear member of our family, our only brother.  My father never did hunt or fish so when some friends asked Harold if he would like to go rabbit hunting my mother reluctantly agreed to let him go.  While hunting a neighbor boy accidnetly shot him through the neck.  He died later that evening.  We all felt very sad but we were glad we had had the association we did with him for nine short years.

 

My earliest memories of school are of pleasant happy hours.  I have always enjoyed school very much and think it is a necessary part of growing up.  I started school in September of 1951.  Starting with kindergarten my teachers have been: La Donna Horner, Lily McWhorter, Kathryn Schoen, Shirley Brooks, Patricia Jerry, Martha Stanley, Marilyn Waldron, seventh grade: Margaret Burgess, Donald K. Neal, Inez Bailey, Marcella Mann, Philip J. Harvey (home room) eighth: Viola Werne, Nellie Peeler, Jo R. McFadden, and Della Caldwell (homeroom), plus numerous gym, music and art teachers.  I used to like History and Geography and Arithmetic and Science least. Now I can't decide which are favorites but Reading I've always enjoyed.  I've always gotten fairly good grades and was honored in eighth grade by being Salutatorian of our graduating exercises.  I was nominated to the office of student-body president for Junior High and was elected Secretary-Treasurer by my eighth grade home-room.

 

My interests and hobbies are quite varied.  My biggest interest is in music.  I've had eight years of piano lessons.  My hobbies include reading, collecting old pennies, stamps, and sewing.

 

Books I like are about people my own age and I read quite a few books written and published by people of my own faith.  Magazines I like include Time, Life, Post, and the Reader's Digest.

 

I am a quiet person and quite serious.  I dislike people who attract attention to themselves by their manner of speech, dress, and their actions.  I haven't much respect for people who think only popularity is what to look for in a friend.

 

I like people who are religious, sincere, thoughtful, kind and clean in thoughts and action.

 

I'm happy when I know I'm liked for what I am and not under false pretenses.  It also makes me happy when people give me compliments.  I'm unhappy when people who are dear to me are ill or have moved away.  Sometimes I'm unhappy when my parents and associates don't understand me.

 

I babysit quite a bit.  I also have a paper job each Sunday morning for an hour and one hour the first of each month to collect.

 

Procrastination is my worst habit and enemy  One of my good habits is to do things nicely.  I think there is no sense in doing something if you don't do it well.  You only waste time that way.  Coming home from school or anywhere promptly and reporting to my parents where I have been, what I have been doing, where I'm going and what I'm going to do is another good one.  I also like to be neat.

 

To me the biggest influence in my life is my religion.  I was baptized as a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when I was eight years old.  I dearly love it and I have a testimoney that it is true.  It shows the way to good health through the Word of Wisdom and it sets up goals toward which to work thereby bettering yourself.

 

My Philosophy of Life is simply that this earth is a testing ground for us to prove ourselves worthy to go back and again dwell with God after we die.  Therefor it is to our advantage that we live good lives.

 

I would like to go to college to continue my education and go into the guidance phase of education.

 

Three things I would like most to have are a good education, more knowledge of music and to have a good husband and a large family.

 

Three things I would like most to do are go to college, tour the United States and live a good life.

 

Georgia Huggins