NICHOLS FAMILY HISTORY--THE SWEDEN SAGA

 
     AT CHURCH:  From left Harold 11, Brice 9, Burgandy 5, Jeremy 3, and Schuyler 1

Ross was 40 and Georgia 35

The Wrang Family from Denmark who were in our ward are sitting in front of us.  Have no idea who took the picture.  The Wrangs gave it to us in a frame when we left for the USA 

 

   

(The following was written by Georgia in a small notebook intended to be a journal for our Swedish experience.  

This was recorded on a Saturday morning in October 1980, shortly after we arrived in Malmo.)

BEGINNINGS--

It was early 1979 when we first learned that Ball Corporation was going to build a can plan in Sweden as partners with PLM--a leading European company.  Ross said he thought it would be neat if we got to go.

It didn't souond interesting to me as I had recently read the Swedish government had passed a law that parents could not spank their children.  Since I occasionally spank my children, I didn't like the sound of that.  Plus Sweden is close to the USSR, and as unsettled as world events are today, I didn't like the idea of being away from home.  

I promptly dismissed any thought of our coming to Sweden.  We were preparing to live in Virginia for several months, and I didn't see any logical plan that would allow us back-to-back TDY experiences.

We moved to Virginia in September of 1979.  On December 15, 1979 when Ross had been home from work about 15 minutes, the phone rang.  It was long distance from Ball Corporation in Denver.  "Would Ross and his family be interested in going to Sweden for several months while plant operations were completed there?"

The company gave us several weeks to thik about it, but the decision was made the first evening really.  The "Virginia Experience" was over the rough spots and well on the way to becoming one of the most positive times in our lives.  It was on that basis we said "yes"!

In February 1980 one of the PLM executives and several from Ball in Denver came to Williamsburg where they presented a seminar about what to expect, etc. to the prospective workers and families.  After that it was passport photos and applications, forms to the Swedish government for residence and work permits.  And it seemed like a million other details to work out.

When we returned to Denver in June 1980, we began an 8-week Swedish class to give us a brief background.  We met at the Ball  Corporation's Colorado Office Center on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday mornings from 8:30 - 10:30 a.m.  Gunnell Thorsin, a Swedish professor from the university of Colorado-Boulder was our teacher.  While Ross, Harold, Brice, and I were at class, Burgandy and Jeremy either went to Maureen Evan's who took care of Schuyler, or to Happy Valley Children's Ranch.

All too soon, or not soon enough depending on which way we looked at the time situation/schedule, the packers arrived at 8:05 a.m. on Monday, September 15th.

The hot breakfast cereal was still in the pan on the stove, and I had just changed Schuyler's diaper from the night, and he was wearing only a dispoable diaper.  He remained that way--undressed and unfed--and the rest of the kids unfed, too, until after the packers left at 1:30 p.m.

It was total chaos and a real madhouse while the packers were there at our Secrest Court house.  It didn't even seem to have helped that we had tried to round-up and put into two rooms ALL the things we were going to take.  The packers didn't crate the play pen in the first big flat box, and when I mentioned it, they were very irate.  "Lady, if you think we're going to unpack this box to put in the playpen, you're crazy!"

"Forget it!.  I'll get another one in Sweden," I said.

Before they finished the packing, the workers had used another big, flat carton.  But they still wouldn't pack the playpen in it.  They grumbled the whole time they were packing.  Someone had told them "about 500 pounds".  Turns out it was over 2,000 pounds, and that ruined their day.

After the packers left, we ate the cold, stiff cereal and finally dressed Schuyler in some clothes.  He couldn't have been more patient with everything going on around him.

Ross needed to go back to work, and because I left Ross' new shoes out near the "go pile",  the shoes got packed.  I needed to go buy him a new pair.

So, I drove Ross to work and caught the boulder Turnpike to go down to Wards on Broadway.  When I arrived at the catalog department, the computer had been down and the order still wasn't filled.  The clerk assured me that if she submitted the order again, it would be down in about 30 minutes.  (At that time all fulfillment was done at that huge store at 6th and Broadway)  Thirty minutes passed with no shoes in sight.  It was getting close to impossible for me to make it to the Golden Post Office (we used to have a Golden address) to sign the papers for Rosalie to pick up our mail while we were gone.

I had to call Ross, who took care of it. He borrowed a company car and drove to Golden to sign the needed papers.  Meanwhile, still at Wards, I decided to see if I could get Jeremy some tennis shoes in another part of the store.  THAT'S when I discovered my wallet was NOT in my purse!!

I did find a pick-up receipt from Wards catalog department in my purse.  With that and my sob story about really needing the shoes, I managed to get Jeremy some new sneakers and some shoes for both me ad Ross.  But I was at the store over two and a half hours.  From there I drove through rush hour traffic to the Lakeside Wards to get the boys some Sunday slacks.  

Then the car wouldn't start when I got back out to the parking lot.  There were some really tense moments while first one woman and later a man tried to help me.  At first we couldn't even get the hood up on the car.  But when we did, we used the jumper cable , and the car's engine fired right up.

I went straight u to Ross' office only to find he was still not done with his work.  I called the kids to see how everything was working out.  I had been gone over four hours by then.  They were fine, and said Kay Bashford had brought a treat for them to play with on the plane.  Also Grandpa and Grandma Huggins had called.  Eleven year old Harold had done a great job supervising.  And the rest had done a great job cooperating in an unusual situtation.

I called Kay Bashford with a big thank you. Then Ross and I called Grandpa and Grandma Huggins from the WATS line at the office to say goodbye to them.

The rest of the day continued to be a wide-awake nightmare!  The car was dead again when Ross finally did finish his work at 7:30 p.m. He had to push the Mustang to get it started.

There were still a few things we needed to get at the store.  The first store we stopped at didn't have what we needed.  So, we drove all the way down into Arvad to K-Mart and Walgreens, up to Yellow Front to get Brice's tennis shoes, and then home at last.  Whew!  Uh-oh!  Ross had to go back for an oil filter and other items.  It was 9 p.m. when we finally got home.  The kids had managed quite well considering the Mom had been gone almost seven hours!

Ross and I quickly fed the kids and put them to bed.  Then Ross and I did the last minute packing, checking every little detail, and anything else that came to mind which needed to be taken care of.He laid down for a couple of hours, but I never did go to bed.  By the time I took my shower, it was time to get everyone up, close the suitcases, and get into the taxi which arrived at 6 a.m.

It was a grey morning and strangely routine, it seemed, for its finally being the day we were to embark on new adventures and leave our house and possessions behind once more.

Nor did it seem hard or sad to look at the house one last time as we pulled out of the driveway and drove down Secrest Court to the corner of 74th. Mentally, I was ticking off the list in my mind, wondering if we had forgotten anything.  And the kids were doing their usual complaining about who got to sit by the window in the taxi.

We were at Stapleton Airport in plenty of time.  I had often wondered (those many, many, many times we have taken Ross to the airport to go off on a businees trip by himsel) what it would feel like to be going with him instead of waving goodbye to him at  the gate.

Well, with five kids, one stroller, eight suitcases, two canvas bags, one purse, a camera, a briefcase--AND a gallon jug of orange Juice--it was just a relief to get settled on the plane.

Soon greakfast was served and after a few minutes of looking out the window after that, we landed in Los Angeles.  It was not even 9 a.m. PDT, and we were anxious to get to Disneyland.

First we arrived at the motel to leave our bags--whoops!  WRONG Holiday Inn.  And the right one didn't have our rooms ready.  We got back in the rental car--a nice roomy station wagon which felt like a limousine because  the kids were so far back from hanging over the front seat--and took off for Disneyland.

DISNEYLAND was all and more we had imagined.  Ross had tickets from the times he'd been before, but we bought some more.  Then two different parties at Disneyland itself itself gave us their tickets which they couldn't use.  We ended up with more tickets than WE could use either.  So, we have tickets if we ever go again.

I can see now why Ross raved about some of the attractions:  America the Beautiful, Abraham Lincoln and some of the other FREE exhibits.  It was like Greenfield Village in Detroit, Busch Bardens in Williamsburg, and other amusement/historical parks all rolled into one big place.  Unfortunately, it all ended at 6 p.m.

We compromised with the food.  Ross bought me Chinese food which I ate at McDonald's while the rest ate American hamburgers the last time for the next several months.

Back at the motel, we tried to get hold of Stewart Huntington, without success.  The information operator claimed she couldn't find a number listed for the Arcadia Mission.  In fact she couldn't even find a number for the Los Angeles Temple.  (Obviously this was before the internet.  Back then all those numbers were listed under The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.) 

So we had to wait until the next day when we left Orange County and went back into Los Angeles County before we could get the numbers we needed.  As it turned out, we never did get hold of Stewart (who was serving a mission in Arcadia).  We called and called but never got him at his apartment.  And the temple didn't provide a..........

AND THAT'S WHEN SOMEONE MUST HAVE INTERRUPTED ME TO GO TAKE CARE OF SOME MOM STUFF.  THAT'S ALL I WROTE IN THAT SLIM LITTLE NOTEBOOK ABOUT OUR ADVENTURES IN THE "SWEDEN SAGA".  

And now,  so much time has passed--forty years--I couldn't remember anything if you threathened me with my life.  

Sorry!  

Afternote:  But I did find some singular entries at the back of that little notebook about the differences between the physical aspects of Sweden and the United States, the Church there, and a couple of notes about the trip down into Western Europe we took when Grandpa and Grandma Huggins came for a month's visit.  I'll see if I can include them at some future date for a blog entry, if you're interested.  Let me know....

 

TOP:  Picture of our chapel in Malmo, Sweden

BOTTOM:  Picture of our row house in Malmo--Enbarsgaten 9

This is the back side looking from the north on Vista Skravelingens

 

A ROCKY THOUGHT OR TWO...

 Even when I was a little girl I was interested in how the earth was formed.  I liked to look at the mountains and the cliffs and all the little oddities in the earth's landscape and see stories as we were driving somewhere in the car.  

So, when I got to Brigham Young University I decided to take an introductory geology course.  I'm sure there were a lot of interesting things I learned including the correct names for formations like mesas, arroyos, deltas, etc.  But the only thing I really internalized was the term used to identify the process of rocks becoming smooth in a river bed.  I could have sworn it was "salting", and that's what I have remembered all these years.  Like all those little pieces of rock "salting" the river as they were washed clean of sediment.  But try as I might, even Googling that term, I have not  found any information using that particular term.  Who knows?  I may have remembered incorrectly.  Or maybe it was "silting" or something else that I got confused with.

Anyway, what brought me to that was the ongoing battle I have with weeds in the decorative rock around our yard.  I deliberately chose river rock as landscape material because the rock we had at the Secrest Court house was jagged and sharp.  I like the way river rock looks all smooth with an overall hue of beige and cream.  But in the last few weeks when the round up of unwanted weeds has been intense, and I have relentlessly overturned rocks that had little feelers of green peeping out, I began to notice that each rock is almost like a fingerprint--they each are entirely different from each other.

Forget the beige color, too.  They vary all the way from stark white, to rose, to variegated grey and brown.  They are not all round either.  Some are flat, misshappen, or almost square.  I have really enjoyed looking at their differences, where once they looked all the same.  And that's when the term "salting" popped up in my mind again.  I began to imagine little vignettes about some of the rocks careening down a rough and tumble river and getting their edges worn off.  It helped take the tedium out of spraying the weeds!

Now, I look at the landscape rock around the yard and see it in an entirely different light.  Amazing how the individual rocks are still fulfilling the measure of their creation.  Where once they were the ground-bed and underpinnings of the earth, now they are a handsome accompaniment to the flowers and trees.  

Guess it just goes to show, we all take on different roles during our existence.  Sometimes it's the wrestle getting an education, the hard physical work of family responsibility, sometimes it's the soul- refining experiences we would never choose to have, but do, and sometimes it's just being part of the landscape.

Pass the "salt", please...

TEACHING AN OLD DOG NEW TRICKS....

I had all kinds of plans for my time when I finally retired.  But life doesn't always turn out the way you think it is going to.  I had projects.  I was going to go visit my kids, my extended family, my friends who have retired and moved away from Colorado.  And, we never got to go to Nova Scotia for our anniversary like we had planned.  

In addition to that, I had been praying for some time to be able to improve in certain areas of my relationships with other people, and frankly I was struggling.  I would do pretty well for awhile :being nice", then "fall off the wagon" again.  Time after time after time when situations arose that were difficult to deal with, I would find my default was to be upset.

So, what happened?  In the blink of an eye, my prayer to be a better person was answered and my life changed--but not in the way I had imagined.  As always, I think it's going to be a straight-forward fix.  It wasn't.  It was an invitation to teach early morning Seminary at our chapel for the freshmen and sophomores in the two congregations in our building.  

And the first thing I had to do was get rid of contention.  There is no way I could teach the principles of the gospel when I was "on the prod" all the time.  (That was a phrase my sister used when her husband was contentious.  It pretty much described me.)  So, pretty much cold turkey, I had to turn over a new leaf.  The many, many prayers for help in this new endeavor, and studying the doctrines and principles of the gospel every day have had a calming influence on my tendency to fly off the handle.  I'm not there yet...this change is going to take a long, long time to move over to the permanent side of pleasant, but I'm on the road.

Now about the old dog/new tricks.  I was so relieved when COVID-19 put us all into the "stay at home" orders situation, and I didn't have to worry about teaching my kids online or tuning into ZOOM meetings.  My work didn't require that.  We still had to be there in person.  

But NOW with Seminary, and the schools still operating in hybrid situations, I am being forced to teach in ZOOM conferences, learn all my material through computer-based technology, even keeping the role, etc with electronic devices.  This old dog is having a hard time keeping up.  But I'll get there.  I still know how to lead the lesson discussion and let the Spirit do the teaching.  

Will let you know how this old dog handles it all.....

A LOVING MEMORY...

Cynthia Eyre Kiser
April 1951 - July 2020

It's always startling news to find out that someone I know who is younger than I am has passed away.  My nephew Paul Eyre called me the other day and left a message.  "Call me as soon as you can.  I have some sad news I don't want to share in a voice mail."  Of course I called immediately after hearing that message. 

Paul told me his sister Cynthia had died, but not of COVID-19.  I was thankful for that small detail, but also saddened with the unexpected news.  Later Paul shared with me the details of Cynthia's funeral which her son Kyle was planning.  Kyle had asked Paul to give "the gospel talk" about the Plan of Salvation, and also asked if I would give a 10 minute "loving memory" about Cynthia during the service.  A zoom meeting--the virtual/online meetings we have right now.  Funeral in Rawlins.  Paul in Texas.  Me in Colorado.  Other family members in other states.  It is now the norm.  Life is so different!

I shared in my last post the dilemma I had about remembering something--anything--as Cynthia and I had not even spoken to each other in the 21st century.  Even after memory prompts from some family journals, I was only able to write a couple of paragraphs before going to bed one night discouraged with my inability to write something--anything.

I woke up about 1 a.m. thinking about this assignment and lay there for an hour, again wondering just how I was going to pull it off.  I got out of bed.  I went upstairs to the computer.  But before I sat down, I kneeled down and prayed, "Help me write something that will bring a modicum of comforting happiness to Cynthia's family."  By 5:30 a.m. I had  typed the last sentence, then proofread what I had written and felt satisfied my prayer had been answered.  My words must have rung true to Cynthia's family because her son Kyle told Paul that evening after the funeral, "Georgia's story and closing prayer reminded me of days past and how much I miss my family!"   I was glad!

Here is what I shared at the funeral:

“A LOVING MEMORY” 

OF MY NIECE CYNTHIA EYRE 

My pretty sister Marie married Keith Eyre when I was only three, and they moved into a brand-new little house just two blocks down the street from our family home in Rawlins.  Oh, that was such a fun place to visit with its glass-door kitchen cupboards which displayed colorful dishes and a delightful collection of pepper and salt shakers.  Plus, Marie and Keith had a furry black little Cocker Spaniel named Smokey that was fun to play with.

Then one day Marie told the family she was “expecting”.  What exciting news!  We could hardly wait during the several months that followed.  Finally, that long-awaited day arrived, and Cynthia was born on April 16, 1951.  I hadn’t even started school yet.  Yet here I was aunt at the tender age of five to a beautiful baby girl, who as the first grandchild in the Melvin Reed and Maude Marie Crane Huggins Family, was way more than just another baby come to earth.  She was OUR baby.  Our very own little Huggins grandchild.

This baby’s arrival had been happily anticipated, even though we didn’t know if Marie was going to have a boy or a girl.  We were just excited we were going to have a new baby in the family.  But, we did know that if Marie’s new little baby was a girl, her name was going to be “Cynthia”.  I don’t remember if Marie and Keith had picked any boy names.  Didn’t matter.  We got our cute little girl doll named Cynthia.

In those days—the early 50’s—little girls played house with dolls as their pretend children.  And now, here was this live baby doll for us to play with when my sister Marie came up 8th Street those two blocks to visit Grandpa and Grandma Huggins.  

Cynthia was such a sweet baby to hold, take turns feeding and even change her CLOTH diaper.  I was so proud when we went to church to turn back the soft blankets and show off my little niece to everyone. Marie up-combed Cynthia’s hair into a little wisp on the top of her head, kind of like a Kewpie Doll.  And in addition to the feminine little dresses with rumba pants underneath (In case you don’t know, those were ruffled plastic covers for the cloth diapers), she wore cute little footed pajamas.  It was just like dressing a doll!

When it was meal time at Grandpa and Grandma’s, Cynthia sat in the old wooden family high chair right by Grandpa Huggins who would make sure she had a proper supper.  He would say, “Get this baby some meat!” as we all laughed because that baby didn’t even have any teeth! And Grandma Huggins would tie a clean dish cloth around Cynthia’s neck as a bib to make sure she didn’t soil her pretty little dress.  Talk about queen for a day!  We all loved to see the baby eat, making faces at some unfamiliar food or picking up a stray morsel on the tray with her tiny fingers that could zero in on the tiniest crumb.

When Cynthia was about a year old, her father’s employment at Tri-State Lumber in Rawlins transferred the family to Garland, Utah, for a short time.  Oh, how we missed baby Cynthia.  When we had a chance finally to go visit, here was baby Cynthia all grown up, walking and talking like a little girl!

Fortunately, Keith's work away from Rawlins brought them back again about a year later.  It was so nice to have the Eyres home—in their same little house where it was so convenient for me to stop in and rest on my way walking home from Church.  Just couldn’t get enough of that little girl who was more like my own little sister.  We would play together at my home, too, long hours down the basement where the doll furniture and play dishes were, along with my doll buggy which we would wheel around the neighborhood.

I didn’t get to be the official baby sitter, though for a long time.  One of my older sisters was right in line for that very responsible job when Cynthia’s parents Marie and Keith would go out for the evening.  First it was Glenda.  Then a few years later after Glenda grew up, Marcie got to be the real babysitter.  And a few years after that when Marcie was involved in other activities, it was my opportunity to tend Marie’s kids. Cynthia and now her little brother Paul, too.  Every Tuesday night when Keith and Marie went to the movies, I got to be the babysitter.

As time went by, Cynthia grew into the little school girl I’ll always remember wearing pigtails.  When she would come the two blocks up the street to visit, Grandpa Huggins would quiz Cynthia about school, and when she answered Grandpa would tell her she was a “sharp tack”. He called her Cynthie-girl.  Grandma Huggins was so proud of her, too.  She always had a little treat of mints tucked into the dishtowel drawer in the kitchen to share with Cynthia.

More years went by.  The Eyres moved into the big house on the lot when Keith’s mother passed away.  I loved to have sleep overs there because Cynthia’s room was in the attic!  We didn’t have an upstairs in our house, and having an attic room seemed like something straight out of the books I read.  You could look out the window and see the cars go by.  In time it was looking out the window with Cynthia to see if her boyfriend was driving by.  By then I was in college and she was enjoying high school.

Elementary school, junior high, high school.  Cynthia was not too far behind me all the way.  During those years there were a lot of memories of school programs, birthday parties, and holiday get-togethers.  I also have a lot of memories of being in the Snowy Range with my parents who were Grandpa and Grandma and Keith and Marie and Cynthia and Paul.

It was Cynthia I took to Denver with me for a visit after I graduated from College and accepted a job there.  Ross and I were planning to be married by then, so he took us all over Denver to show Cynthia around.  We had such a good time that weekend.

Cynthia got married herself the following year, and I was lucky enough to be visiting in Rawlins when Amy was born.  Our baby had a baby! 

After that there wasn’t much opportunity to spend time with Cynthia as her own family grew and so did mine.  Plus we lived in Denver.  I remember fleeting visits  in and out as Cynthia came by Marie’s to pick up her kids.  But I am sorry to say, there were never again the opportunities to sit down and really get to know each other, this time as adults talking about parenting or work or family.  We missed out on a lot not being able to do that.  However, I cherish those special first years with the family’s first grandchild, my little niece.  Nothing will ever replace those memories.

Though all of you remember Cynthia as the responsible woman and mother she became, I will always remember Cynthia as the cute little girl who was my first niece and my playmate for so many years.

I invite you to reflect on your own loving memories of Cynthia, either as sibling, mother, aunt, co-worker, or friend and be grateful for her example to you in so many different ways that have enriched your life.  It will be that legacy which will stand as a monument to her turn on earth.  Let that be comfort for your deep loss at this time.

 

CORRECTION!

My 69 year old niece Cynthia Eyre died a few days ago.  Her son Kyle asked me to give a 10 minute "Loving Memory" of her at the virtual funeral held for her yesterday in my hometown of Rawlins, Wyoming, where Cynthia lived for her entire life.

I was honored that Kyle would choose me to say a few personal words about Cynthia, but it has literally been years since I had even seen her.  I think at her dad's funeral in 1998 was the last time.

A flood of thoughts came to mind as I contemplated this assignment, one of which was, "What could I say that would be relevant since our association in later years was pretty nil?"  

So, I went to the family's personal history books and began to read.  As I perused those pages, images and memories surfaced until I could finally put to paper something that would reflect a small glimpse of Cynthia's early years as the first Huggins grand child...and my special place as aunt to a babe when I wasn't much more than a baby myself.

However, in that perusing of personal family histories, I found out that I had incorrectly related the story about my sister Marie's wedding in a blog I wrote in June 2019.

You might recall I wrote about our night stranded in the car during a horrendous flood-producing rainstorm and being rescued by the forest rangers the next morning then treated to a pancake breakfast at the nearby ranger station.

Only as I read, I realized I had put that event BEFORE Marie's wedding instead of AFTER the ceremony at the Idaho Falls Temple in June 1949.  By the time my parents and I, and possibly a couple of my sisters, had this hairy sleepover in the car, Marie and Keith were long gone on their honeymoon to the Black Hills.

Just wanted to set the record straight.  

Let this be a lesson to you:  DON'T GET OLD!  The old memory ain't what it used to be.  And THAT, dear Readers, is why we are admonished to WRITE DOWN and RECORD our personal history.  

I learned this little proverb years ago when I was teaching a lesson on journal writing.  Still holds true.

THE PALEST INK IS BETTER THAN THE STONGEST MEMORY....

JUMPED FROM THE FARM RIGHT INTO THE RIVER...!

Got an email notice last week that our Windsor Colorado Stake was going to meet together in a ZOOM meeting today at 11 am for the purpose of reorganizing the three wards that meet in the Johnstown Chapel which is in our Carlson Farm neighborhood. 

So, dutifully at 11 am following our family Sacrament meeting this morning, we tuned in to the ZOOM meeting and found out that instead of three wards meeting in our building, we are now only going to be two wards attending Church meetings there. 

Boundaries run east and west with Highway 60 which has the main road (which borders our neighborhood on the south) as the dividing line between the Big Thompson River Ward and the South Platte River Ward. 

That means we are going to be in the Big Thompson River Ward and have the same bishop and the 2nd counselor who moved up to 1st counselor with a new second counselor. We're going to have a lot a people in the ward that I don't know. But then that's because they will be from the area north of us which extends into the annexed area of Johnstown all the way up to Hiway 34 in Loveland. 

Burgandy in her new house in Milliken will be in the South Platte River Ward. New bishop and counselors, also all unfamiliar to me. 

It should be interesting as each ward is now at the 500+ mark. Coincidentally, both have 80 children in Primary. There are going to be lots of new ward positions as the Primary president, among others, are in the other ward. The ward organist is also in the other ward. 

Maybe, just maybe I might be able to play the piano for Primary or the organ for Sacrament meeting. I have soooo missed having a calling where I PLAY music. Then again....maybe nothing at all close to that for a calling. Time will tell. 

Also, following recent talks between Elder Anderson and Carl B. Cook of the Area Presidency, it looks like we will be returning to "Church at the Chapel" in the near future. Change at Church is always exciting! And this is a BIG change from the way things have been for the past several years. 

I, for one, am looking forward to it....

WELCOME TO THE RELIEF SOCIETY MYSTERY BAG NIGHT!

Boy have things changed.  And they've gotten pretty creative, too, in light of the restrictions and limitations required for social distancing during COVID-19.  Case in point was the email I received a few weeks ago from our Carlson Farm Ward Relief Society with this message:

Please come to the west side church parking lot (drive-thru style) between 6:15-6:45 pm Thursday, June 11, 2020, where you will be given a small mystery bag and yummy dessert.  You will stay in your car, and exit through the east side church entrance. We don't want to give away the surprise, but you will then drive back home and use your mystery bag to participate in a short 7pm RS Zoom activity.     

As it turned out, I had a STANDBY assignment that day with United to sit at the airport for several hours in case I was needed to take the place of an absent flight attendant.  When my required time was finished, I drove home and still had enough time to change my clothes, eat a bite of supper, and drive down to the church parking lot for this out of the ordinary activity.  

It was fun to be greeted by real people as the Relief Society presidency and Activity leader  were there in a line to pass each sister a goodie bag full of yummy desserts as promised and a mystery bag as we slowly drove by and exited on the other side of the chapel. 

When I got home, I read the instructions on what to do to prepare for the short ZOOM activity.

There were three random objects which I was supposed to share how I would use one or all of them to teach a gospel principle/life lesson to family members or a friend.   We were also invited to use anything else we had at home to help out with this mini lesson.

We were assured there was NO pressure, just something meant to be fun, or funny, but not stressful.  "Just join the RS ZOOM link to chat and have fun sharing your ideas from the contents of your bag."

Though I failed at ZOOM technology ONCE AGAIN, I loved the clever idea of the mystery bag.  So, while I didn't get to share with all of the sisters that night, this is what I came up with for my "homework".

I got the Mystery bag with a box of Jello, a paperclip, and a birthday candle.  It immediately put in mind that there is literally a parade of principles throughout the scriptures.  The principles themselves never change, but there are a myriad number of ways we can live them.  

For example let's just say that the Jello, the paperclip, and the birthday candle represent the principles of faith, ministering, and remaining steadfast.

Jello can be made according to the package directions with the end result of a bowlful of jiggly dessert.  Or while liquid, it can be poured over a newly baked cake with holes punched in it.  Voila!  Poke Cake--one of my family's favorites.   Likewise, we can exhibit faith in a variety of ways including just the basics of reading the scriptures, trusting in the Lord's timing, praying.....etc.

Not only can a paperclip fasten a pile of papers, but it can pick a lock, or keep the drapes in a hotel room closed so the parking lot lights are shut out.  Ministering can also take on many different guises.  Doesn't always have to be a formal "helping out" assignment or a lesson, but a smile, a listening ear, and a friendly hello all count as ministering, too.

A birthday candle would normally be used on a birthday cake.  But in a pinch, it could light the way for a brief moment or make a celebration out of a normal day.  Remaining steadfast might include a simple task like feeding the missionaries, going to the temple, or standing up for what is right.  There are lots of different ways to remain steadfast.

When Nephi and his brothers were commanded to return for the Brass plates, that task required three different approaches before it was successful.  Correspondingly, there isn't just one way to accomplish what the Lord has asked us to take care of in our journey through life.  The "HOW" of living the principles might be different for each one of us, but the goal is the same.  

And...it all counts as long as we are moving forward on the covenant path.

MYSTERY SOLVED....