I want to stay home with my kids, but I don’t want my education to be wasted.

These were my daughter’s exact words to me yesterday.  We had been discussing our recent beef with our HOA board and she mentioned (as she has dozens of times before) that I should really become a lawyer.  “You can argue anything, mom.  You really need to go to law school.”

Flattered, but unconvinced, I responded that I am perfectly happy being mother to my children and see no reason to pursue another career at the present.

She paused, then opined that despite not wanting her kids to spend their days with anyone other than her, she did not want her college degree to go unused.

My response, “What makes you think that staying home with your children is a waste of an education?”

To be fair, I understand that most degrees train someone for a specific field of work.  I realize that not pursuing that particular career makes the cost associated with one’s education yield a low financial return.

However, here are a few reasons I disagree with the assumption that my college degree has been “wasted” because I’ve spent all but two years since earning that degree raising my children.

  1.  If/when I decide to get a paying job, my earning potential exceeds that of a non-degree holder.  I think of it as an insurance policy.
  2. Being an educated woman means I know how to learn.  I’m not scared to tackle new projects or experiences.  I just do my homework on how it’s done and jump in with both feet.  In fact, pretty much everything I’ve learned about being a good wife, mother, homemaker, etc. is predicated on that fundamental ability and confidence to learn new things.  Now I could teach my own class on a variety of subjects, despite not having a formal education in any of them.
  3. It sounds silly, but, with the exception of eighth grade algebra and on, I can actually help my kids with their homework.  I still read enough that I haven’t lost all memory of things academic. Consequently, my children still consider me an authority on all sorts of topics.  It’s kinda awesome.
  4. This one may seem shallow and it certainly isn’t the reason I attended college.  But, having done so gave me exposure to the kind of dating pool full of eligible bachelors whose earning potential would allow me to stay home forever, if I want to.  I’m not saying we’re swimming in dough, but we can still live comfortably without my having to offer financial support.  It’s safe to say that Tim and I found each other because we were both pursuing an education.  He wanted an educated spouse and so did I.  Quite possibly for entirely different reasons.  😉

So, dear daughter, my college degree is certainly not wasted.  It’s not even lying dormant.  It very much facilitates my success as a stay-at-home parent, despite the lack of a paycheck.

So unless you think money is the only way to make a college education worthwhile, feel free to pursue that degree.  And then feel free to stay at home with your kids, if that’s what you want.  No guilt.

Jackson family reunion 2018.

After arriving home to a home that had a piece of plywood instead of a back door (and so, SO many other things that make me tired just thinking about them) I was in no shape to pull things together for a family reunion.  At our house.

That’s right.  All 23 members of my extended family were coming to Boise for our bi-annual Jackson family reunion.

I had invited them all up here in anticipation of our addition being complete, but when it was not progressing as expected, we booked a few hotel rooms up the street to hedge our bets.  But I still thought we would at least have FLOORS by the time we pulled this thing off!

Lucky for us, Boise is a fantastic outdoor destination (which was kind of the point of hosting the reunion here during the summer) so we made plans to be out of the house as much as possible.

And, by golly, it worked!

Thankfully, we had prepped the meals ahead of time for easy cooking and our kitchen was in working order so that was no problem.  We floated the Boise River, went to the Shakespeare Festival, had summer fun at a local ski resort, went swimming at our neighborhood pool, played games, and spent a day at the “beach”.

There was fun for all ages and it was delightful to spend time together.  Memories to last a lifetime.

Here are the pictures to prove it.

One activity that was especially fun for me to plan (and for everyone else to carry out) was our version of Relative Race.  We all divided into teams (by family, generally-speaking) and raced around town to find various sites of interest.  At each site, the teams were expected to perform a “challenge” related to our family history/culture.

For instance, at one station entitled “Guess Who?”, one player expected to ask questions (with yes or no answers) to determine which of our ancestors the other players had selected.  Like the board game “Guess Who?”.

At another station, they were given a four-generation fan chart (blank) and had to match names of our family members to the correct place on the chart.

For the third one, we obtained baby pictures of all the people in our family and they had to determine who was who.

And at the last station, each child(under 18) was asked why their parents gave them their name and/or what their name means.  (I, of course, contacted parents ahead of time for this one).

All in all, our family got to see a bit more of Boise, discover a bit more about our ancestors and learn more about ourselves and each other in the process.  Fun all around!

Chillicothe and the drive home.

Our last “church history” experience was a visit to the Hopewell Mound Visitor’s Center in Chillicothe, Ohio.  Tim has spent a good deal of time studying Book of Mormon geography and is partial to the North American view of it.  It seems logical to me, though I haven’t done the research he has.

What is notable about the mounds is that they represent a relatively advanced native American culture that existed from approximately 100 B.C. to 500 A.D. with similarities to what we read about the people in the Book of Mormon.  Though many questions surround the Hopewell culture, it’s interesting to speculate about their origins, their religion and their lifestyle.  I’m glad we could satisfy Tim’s itching to find out if this mound group was the city “Bountiful” mentioned in the Book of Mormon.  (It wasn’t.  According to Tim.)

After toying with the idea of driving straight through the night to get home the following night, we opted to drive as far as we could, find a hotel for the night, wake up and do so the next day.  We landed in Iowa City the first night, Kimball, NE the second night and made it home the third.  We even lost our iPad charger the second day and had to survive the third (over 11 hours in the car) without movies or games.  Quite a feat to manage a two-year-old in a car seat all day without being able to plug him in.  Somehow we managed.

As a side note, we realized as we were driving that we would pass through Tim’s birthplace in Urbana, Illinois.  Since he hadn’t returned since those early days (his parents were attending grad school), we quickly called them to get directions to their apartment.  They couldn’t remember, so they guided us to the married student housing and we stumbled to navigate the area, finally landing at the apartment where they lived (we might have mistakenly taken pictures in front of other apartments prior to that).

We arrived home to our house a complete wreck (we’re remodeling).  We had hoped our contractors would have much of it done before we arrived home.  As it turned out, only the framing, electrical, plumbing and HVAC was complete.  That meant no insulation, no walls, no hardwood or carpet, no doors…it was disappointing at best.  In fact, we later found out they had just put the windows on a few days earlier, leaving us to conclude that our house had been exposed to the elements (and critters, and who knows what else) for about two weeks.  Yikes.

It was insane – the house barely livable, and we tried to get a hotel for the night but by then it was almost 10 p.m. so there was little available.  We conked out in the two bedrooms that remained for our use and hunkered down the next day to clean up the disaster.  Not the best welcome home we’ve had, but somehow we survived.  Epic family road trip a success!

Pennsylvania in two days.

Tuesday began with another early morning of packing up and shipping out for our next destination: Philadelphia.  We’d booked a tour of Independence Hall (another genius move on my part, as they were all gone by 10 a.m. that day).  My memory of Philadelphia was sort of this run-down ghetto-looking city, which it was from the interstate.  Unlike my first experience there, we were actually going into the city this time, which proved perfectly lovely.

The downtown historic district was stunning, with it’s old world charm and rich history.  We jumped in line to see the Liberty Bell, since we had 45 minutes to spare before our tour.  We were lucky enough to be held up by an enormous group of Chinese students who simply HAD to get individual pictures in front of the old relic.  Consequently, we didn’t manage to get a similar prized shot, so we took one from the side, at which point one of the Chinese kids walked in front of our family.  Then another did it.  And another, but I was wise enough to anticipate him so I took the picture after he’d passed through the frame.  Jack wasn’t having it either.

Annoyed as all get out by now, we moved on to Independence Hall.  The tour was brief but reasonably informative.  The biggest impression came at the realization of the miracle that took place within those walls.  That those men, with starkly different backgrounds could construct a document that would inspire a nation, indeed the world, is a feat not to be underestimated.  Their foresight and commitment to freedom paved the way for a rugged individualism that has changed the world and afforded millions with a life beyond imagination.

Even though Jack was resistant to staying still throughout the tour so I missed the bulk of it, it was a thrill to be where our founders stood in the critical shaping of our nation.

Grandpa joined us for a token Philly Cheesesteak sandwich at Geno’s and drove us to take a peek at the Philadelphia Temple (our fifth and last church temple of the trip).  Exhausted from the weeks previous, we skipped the full Philly experience, satisfied with a lesser one, and drove to our hotel to take it easy.

We got up early (this became quite a pattern) to drive to Hershey for a chocolaty experience.  Before leaving, I asked the girls which of the attractions they wanted to experience while there.  To which they unanimously agreed to the “Make Your Own Chocolate Bar” tour.  Upon our arrival, we were informed that the machine had broken down and that they were offering either a full refund or an “alternate” experience where you pretend to create your own chocolate bar but then get your choice of three non-custom giant chocolate bars and a rain check to come back another time.  I laughed out loud.  “We’re from Idaho,” I said, “and it’s unlikely we will ever make it back out here.”

Still, we did the tour, got more chocolate than we could ever hope for, and have a reason to go back to Pennsylvania someday.

The girls had a great time because… chocolate, and off we were to Gettysburg.

Gettysburg was a singular experience.  Tim had purchased an excellent audio tour of the sites and it proved perfect for our crew.  We covered the Battle of Gettysburg in about 2 1/2 hours, including a bit of venturing out of our car.  The girls agreed that it made the history come alive to hear the play by play and visualize the events as they occurred in the very place we stood.

After departing Gettysburg, we drove another 6 hours to Chillicothe, OH, where we stayed the night.  That leg of driving encompassed some of the most picturesque country I’ve ever beheld.  Sadly, it was slightly obscured by the torrential downpours that dotted our drive.  Pennsylvania and West Virginia are simply breathtaking.

 

New York 2018.

Day One

We took our chances leaving Boston for New York at 8 a.m.  While trying to catch a 2 p.m. matinee on Broadway.  We pulled into the Bronx to catch a train to midtown just in the nick of time and made it to our seats with 15 minutes to spare.  Lucky.  Especially for those unfamiliar with NYC and its labyrinth of subway lines.

 

Wicked was everything and more than we had hoped.  I found myself sighing after each and every number at the knowledge that we were getting closer and closer to the end of the show.  Elphaba was amazing.  Glinda?  Captivating.  It was the perfect girls day in the city.

We emerged to see that the Starlight Diner, where our cousins would be eating for dinner was just a block away from the theatre.  So we killed a bit of time strolling to Times Square.  And back.  And then stumbled upon the fam already marking their spot in line outside the restaurant.

It took us an hour, but it was an experience, to say the least.  Anna and I split a meal because, whoa.  Kids meals cost $16 a plate.  I was shell-shocked by the price of an average burger in the Big Apple and braced myself to eat hot dogs for our few days in New York.

We bid goodbye to our cousins (for the last time this trip), and took the train back to our New Jersey hotel.  It was lovely to arrive home to an unpacked car, rested toddler, and clean sheets.

Day Two

We attended church in Staten Island and ran into a friend of my parents from when I was a baby.  That’s 40 years ago, folks.  What a trip.  Chatted a bit, took a picture, changed into something a bit more tourist-friendly and took off for a bit of Sabbath-friendly sight seeing.  We drove by the house my parents lived in when I was born, then we took the Staten Island Ferry (which my dad commuted on every single day when I was little) into Manhattan.

We parted with Grandma and Grandpa so they could wait for hours to see the Statue of Liberty.  We took a stroll up to the 9/11 Memorial.  It felt like hallowed ground.  Super sobering and a good opportunity to instruct our kids.  I feel like my kids’ generation lacks perspective on the horrors of war and the blessings of living in a free country.  I sometimes fall short in my gratitude.  9/11 is the only event in my lifetime that truly hits home and reminds me not to take the ease of my life for granted.  Visiting the 9/11 memorial brought back many of the horrors of that day.  I recommitted myself to showing thanks for those who sacrifice so that we can live in peace.

Then we hopped on the subway to see the Manhattan Temple of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  Lo, and behold, we met two couples just outside the temple, one of which was from Boise!  What are the odds?  They kindly took our family picture and we moved on the Central Park.  We covered a decent amount of ground, considering we had a toddler with us, who was skipping his nap.  The Bethesda Fountain, the Loeb Boathouse, the Great Lawn, one of the playgrounds.  We emerged on the other side of the park just in time for the Metropolitan Museum of Art to close its doors for the day.  Just in time for us to snag a picture.

After a total meltdown from our toddler, we safely made it back on a train to downtown, where we caught the ferry back to Staten Island, grabbed a cheap dinner at Denny’s and headed back to the hotel.

Day Three

So much to see, so little time.  Our day began with another ferry ride into the city where we split into two groups.  Tim went with the four girls to take the crown tour of the Statue of Liberty while Jack and I rode the train, as per his request.  We managed to fit in a visit to Grand Central Station, a walk on the High Line, and a hot dog and popsicle in Battery Park while we were at it.

Note: we booked our crown tour six months in advance.  As it turned out, all the crown tour tickets were gone for the day when we showed up at 10:30 a.m.  Wise is the man who plans ahead.  The kids enjoyed the crown tour, but the recommendation not to bring kids under 8 was sound.  Apparently, there was a kid on their tour who burst into tears at the spiral staircase (claustrophobia, perhaps?).  You also can’t take babes in arms (or in carriers) so there’s that.

At this point we were all starving so we booked it up to Chinatown for a late lunch.  Side note: Chinatown was swimming with stores whose fronts were adorned with t-shirts sporting the F-bomb.  Like ten times on each shirt.  At least ten shirts in every store.  Definitely not g-rated in those parts.  We couldn’t duck into the restaurant fast enough, having seen more swear words in less than ten minutes than my kids encounter at the junior high in a week.  Yowsers.

Food was great – bellies were full and we emerged, heads down, to make a beeline to Brooklyn so we could walk the bridge into Manhattan.  We were smart to go that direction – the views were stunning and we didn’t have to keep turning around to see them.  Jack fell asleep somewhere along the way and enjoyed a nap on the subway to South Station and across the harbor to Staten Island on the ferry.  Yay.  No meltdown that day.

And that’s a wrap for our whirlwind trip to NYC with five kids.  There’s way too much in that city to cram into a few days but I think we hit some of the highlights.  Kid-friendly ones.  And we managed to not spend an arm and a leg doing it.  At some point, I’ll write up a post of tips for traveling to New York with kids.  For now, that’s it.

From the Bronx to Broadway.

Today we drove from Boston (my favorite U.S. city) to the city of all cities.  My heart was racing the whole time-not because Tim was driving like a New Yorker, but because we had a matinee to catch.

Wicked on Broadway.

It was the only thing I wanted to do while in New York. It would be the most expensive thing we would do in New York.

I might have shed buckets of tears if we were to miss this singular experience.

I had Tim drop us off at a subway station in the Bronx so he could skirt the city and drive the Suburban to our hotel in Jersey.  (Someone had to take one for the team and sit it out with Jack.)

We were the only white folks on the train.  Talk about instant culture shock for these Idahoans.  I was pleased to find that my girls seemed unphased by this role reversal.

On our ride into the city, we encountered much of what is probably common to subway-riding New Yorkers: people selling overpriced candy in order to pay rent, a lady with outstretched hand, begging for money.  Another disabled woman asked for help with her medical bills.

All this in a matter of minutes.

Admittedly, it was sobering.

Here we were, five females from Boise, Idaho, in New York City.  Headed to a play for which we had paid $150 per ticket.  In New York City.  (Did I mention that?)

And we were riding a train with dozens, even hundreds of people who would never know that experience.

It’s been said that “ Comparison is the thief of joy.”  While that can most certainly be true, I also believe that it can work the opposite direction.

I could lament the fact that, in contrast to many people with whom I associate, this was my first time seeing a play on Broadway.  I could whine about how I can only afford to attend a single production while here.

Heck, I could complain about any number of things-from the fact that our seats were 11 rows back versus front and center to the inconvenience of sitting behind someone taller than I.

But that would be silly, wouldn’t it?

My takeaway from our train ride was that comparison can only rob us of joy when we lack perspective.  If we constantly look in the direction of those who have more and do more than we, we cannot help but feel short-changed.

Alternatively, when we experience a world of the have-nots, we suddenly realize what a small percentage of the world enjoys the blessings we do.  Instead of feeling entitled, our joy is enhanced by the gratitude we feel.

I know mine was.  Dang, I’m glad we took the subway in today.

Boston 2018

We traveled to Boston on a Monday morning.  I called ahead of time to check into our hotel a bit early but was given no such guarantee.  So we instead took a joy ride into downtown Boston to show the kids my early college stomping grounds.

Driving downtown was a beast (by that point, it was rush hour).  I knew Boston as a pedestrian and had trouble navigating it in a car.  Everything came up SO quickly!  I’d point out one landmark to my kids just as I’d realize we’d missed our turn and had to backtrack.  But the whole outing was kind a spur-of-the-moment idea since we couldn’t check into our hotel so we went with it.  We drove by Mike’s Pastry and waved because there was no parking.  Luckily Grandma and Grandpa found parking and snagged us a couple of treats to enjoy later that night.  Our driving tour of Boston was a great little teaser and validated my decision to use public transportation the remainder of our time there.

After checking into our hotel, we researched a reasonably-priced Indian restaurant a few minutes away in Lexington.  Much to our delight, it turned out to be right on the Battle Green – where the Revolutionary War began.  To top it off, there were kids playing drums and fifes in true colonial style right on the Green.  Such a step back in time and a splendid welcome to Massachusetts, in my opinion.  The food was pretty awesome, too.

Day two we woke up early to grab some T passes and park at the end of the line to take the subway into the city.  It took FOREVER, but it gave us the flexibility of getting around wherever we wanted whenever we wanted.  And since our afternoon ended in a torrential downpour, that was a blessing, to say the least.

Day three took us to the Public Garden for a ride on the swan boat.  Because you can’t go to Boston with kids and not relive a Make Way for Ducklings moment.  Then on to a Boston Harbor Cruise to the U.S.S. Constitution.  Old Ironsides was a hit with the littles.  Lots of places to hide from the parents.  We made it back in time to hit up the New England Aquarium for an hour before heading back to the hotel for a swim and visit with cousins.

Day four we stayed out of the city and ventured instead to Salem.  Our first stop was the House of Seven Gables – the basis of a Nathaniel Hawthorne book.  The kids declared it “the coolest house we toured on our trip” – which is saying A LOT, because we toured a ton of houses.  Pretty sure it was the secret passageway that sealed the deal.  We hopped over to the Salem Witch Museum – which was weird and we’ll leave it at that.

Our final day in Boston took us back downtown to tackle the Freedom Trail.  We fit it all in in less than 2 1/2 hours, including a stop at Walgreens for cold medicine and a Dunkin Donuts run.  Because who can survive a day in Boston without at least one trip to Dunkin Donuts?  Not us, apparently.  Then we met up for lunch in Harvard Square with my dear roommate from BU.  She was brave enough to join us on a tour of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s house near Harvard.  It is significant for a number of reasons, the least of which that it was directly across the street from the chapel where I attended church during my tenure in Boston.  It also was the headquarters for George Washington as he commandeered the war in Boston.  The kids were reasonably well-behaved and then I sent them all back to the hotel so Allison and I could spend a bit of time catching up over ice cream.

We ate dinner at Tim’s brother’s house and then went out for more ice cream at Kimball Farm.  Three treats in one day is totally legit on vacation.  Just so you know.

And that concludes our trip to Boston.  We packed it in.  Now on to New York!

Fayette and Priesthood Restoration Site.

We awoke early on Sunday to drive to Fayette, New York, where the first meeting of the church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was held.  We had been there the day before, to tour the Peter Whitmer Log Cabin, but thought it would be appropos to spend our Sunday worship at this singular site.

The church meetinghouse there was constructed in 1980 and used for the Sunday morning session of General Conference on April 6 that year.  President Spencer W. Kimball gave an address to commemorate the 150th anniversary of the restoration of the church of Jesus Christ.  Attending sacrament meeting there was a fantastic way to kick off our Sabbath day.

We then traveled southeast through the Finger Lakes region of New York, deciding then and there that a vacation home on one of the lakes would be a splendid idea.  Not unlike the giant RV, or beach house on the Oregon Coast, or the jet boat we’ve dreamed of on previous vacations.  Seriously beautiful scenery.  So beautiful that we simply soaked it in and have no pictures to prove it.

Our travels landed us in Susquehanna County, Pennsylvania.  In recent years, the church transformed this area from the simple monument that once stood marking the spot of the restoration of the Priesthood, to a more souped up version.  A visitor’s center, the Hale home, the smaller Hale home that the Smiths lived in for a time, and an area of maintained land where the events surrounding the priesthood restoration were thought to have taken place (based on historical accounts).

What I would like to remember about Harmony Pennsylvania:

  1.  Joseph met Emma (Hale) there while working for a man named Josiah Stowell.  Stowell was digging for Spanish silver in the area and hired Joseph and his father for a handsome price.  Within a month, Joseph determined that no silver was to be found and informed Josiah of the fact.  Despite needing the salary to support their family, Joseph had the integrity to call it quits when he knew nothing was to be found.  He didn’t find silver, but he did meet his future wife while they lodged with her family in Harmony.

2.  The Hale home was fancy by 19th century standards.  Emma grew up in privileged circumstances and enjoyed the benefits of formal education.  This qualified her to become Joseph’s first scribe as he translated the Book of Mormon.  It also demonstrates the amount of faith Emma had to trade her cushy circumstances and Methodist faith to convert to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and marry its founder, an uneducated farm boy whom her father detested.  Though her father opposed their union, he later invited them to live in his home, then the home adjacent to their property, where they began work translating the Book of Mormon.  Emma was also part breadwinner, Joseph being occupied with the work of the Restoration.  She was a remarkable woman of faith and grit.

3.  Despite artwork depicting a veil separating Joseph and the gold plates from his scribe (so as to keep the plates from the view of others), there is no indication that this ever happened.  In fact, more of the records indicate that the plates were kept hidden under Emma’s tablecloth, and that Joseph did not even view them directly while translating.  Based on what we know, he would use what was called a seer stone, which would somehow highlight a phrase, which he would utter to the scribe.  The scribe would then record the words and read them back to Joseph.  If what was uttered did not match the words indicated by the seer stone, they would halt until corrections were made.  Some are weirded out by the whole idea of a seer stone, but I think that’s silly.  Especially if one purports to be a religious person.  Biblical accounts demonstrate the use of objects for religious purposes on several occasions (Moses’ brass serpent, the Urim and Thummim, etc.)  Others are skeptical that Joseph could translate without even looking directly at the plates.  But then, my husband Tim can read entire books via Audible on his phone without even looking at or touching the screen.  We call it Bluetooth.  We are so quick to pooh-pooh ideas that are unfathomable to us, due to our limited understanding of technology or the cosmos.  If God created the universe, certainly he can figure out a way for an uneducated farm boy to translate an ancient record into English without looking at it.  Seriously.

4.  The restoration of the Aaronic Priesthood through John the Baptist and the Melchizedek Priesthood through Peter, James and John here in Harmony, Pennsylvania are of particular significance to me because they gave men the authority to do God’s work on the earth.  It made baptism and receiving the Gift of the Holy Ghost available to people in this day and age.  It is not enough to just say one believes in God and then go about your merry way doing what you’ve always done.  God has a plan for us, and the fulfillment of that plan is predicated on our acceptance (and execution) of His requirements.  Receiving and keeping priesthood ordinances/covenants is an act of faith on our part, one that binds us to Him and will eventually lead us safely back to His presence.

By the time we took the path down to the river, we were all crazy hot, not to mention tired and hungry.  Anna even toyed with the idea of staying in the car, so we left it running so she wouldn’t melt in the heat and humidity.  She snuck out of the car, unbeknownst to Tim, followed by Eve, who was about to shut the door, when I stopped her abruptly, seeing that Anna had exited the vehicle.  Tim, out of habit, had locked the doors, which would not have been much of a problem if Anna had stayed, but since she didn’t, we were THIS close to locking our only set of keys in the car while it was running.  We were all grateful that we avoided that potential disaster.  Ah!  On to Albany for the night!

Palmyra

Day One.

After a brief stop in Niagara Falls, we marched further east to the heart of the restored church of Jesus Christ in Palmyra, New York.  We popped into the Hill Cumorah Visitor’s Center, where we were directed to walk up to the top of the hill before 1:00 pm, when rehearsal for the annual pageant would begin.

So we did.  We snagged a picture, then chatted it up with one of the Sister missionaries, who informed us that you can save seats for the pageant in the side sections of the audience.

So we grabbed our “Maid of the Mist” ponchos, slapped them on seven seats and piled into the car to visit the Sacred Grove.  After arriving at the parking lot, we saw that Grandma and Grandpa were just beginning a tour of the Smith Family Farm, so we joined their tour group.

A few things I want to remember about our experience there:

  1.  The Lord’s hand is in the details.  That the Smith family ended up purchasing property in the Finger Lakes region of New York was no accident.  Their farm was mere miles away from the buried ancient record that would become the Book of Mormon.  The circumstances that surrounded their coming here was nothing short of miraculous, timed perfectly to pave the way for the restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
  2. The homes they lived in were extremely simple.  In their first home, a small log cabin, Joseph read the passage of scripture that prompted him to pray to God.  (James 1:5).  After his miraculous vision in the grove of trees, he received visits in the log cabin from angel Moroni, who instructed him on where to find the gold plates.  What hallowed ground it is. In their second home, Joseph hid the gold plates from his enemies, as well as in the cooper’s shed, the plates were hidden in various places and undiscovered by those who would steal them, despite occasionally being in plain sight.  They were preserved at a great cost, and against all odds.
  3. The Sacred Grove was as beautiful as expected. There is a reverence to that place like no other.  The church took care to provide many paths and dozens of benches so people could spend time in quiet reflection of the events that took place there.  I spent most of my time following Jack around.  He delighted in exploring the area – we might have spent 2 hours there.
  4. We returned to our saved seats at the pageant, after a long nap and dinner.  Our kids were riveted.  The show even held Jack’s interest for the first half, thanks to special effects and awesome music.  It was a great production containing some of the best stories in the Book of Mormon and how we came to acquire them.

Day Two:

We took a drive down to Fayette, NY, where the first church meeting of the restored church of Jesus Christ took place.  We watched a video in the Visitor’s Center that depicted the events that occurred there.  A few things I want to remember:

  1.  David Whitmer’s parents, though humble and faithful people, were not inclined to invite Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery into their home during the growing season.  There was too much work to be done.  While plowing the fields to prepare for planting, David offered a prayer that if this be the work of God, please let the farm work be accomplished.  He retired that night, after a hard day of plowing, wondering how on earth it would be.  The next morning, he and his father discovered a miracle-all the fields had been plowed overnight.  Needless to say, they invited Joseph and Oliver to come to their home to work on the translation of the Book of Mormon.
  2. David Whitmer said he knew Joseph was a prophet because he knew exactly where and when to meet him, because he knew David’s exact route and itinerary despite not having discussed it before.
  3. Fayette was also the location of the Three Witnesses to the Book of Mormon’s experience viewing the gold plates.  It was a lonely burden for Joseph to bear, being the only person authorized to see the plates for a time.  It created doubt in some, and possibly strained relationships in others.  Even Emma noticed the lifted weight that occurred when others were able to bear witness of the existence of the plates.
  4. And finally, the first official meeting of the church occurred in Peter Whitmer’s cabin in Fayette, NY.  They crammed 55 people into the log cabin, six of them baptized members of the church.  From its humble beginnings in New York on April 6, 1830, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints’ numbers have swelled to over 16 million throughout the world.

We stopped in on the Book of Mormon publication site (Egbert B. Grandin building).  A few things I want to remember about our tour here:

  1.  The blurb in the newspaper to advertise the sale of copies of the Book of Mormon comes directly from its title page, written by none other than Moroni.  Who knew that Moroni’s words would be used to market the book 1400 years after he penned them?
  2. It took 65 days to translate the Book of Mormon, 7 months to print the pages, and 17 months to bind them into books.
  3. The order of 5000 copies of ANY book was unusual, but even more so in an obscure town in Western New York.  2-3 months before Joseph requested the printing of the book, Egbert Grandin had ordered the latest and greatest printing press, capable of printing 16 pages at a time(compared to his more-than-adequate press that could print 8 at a time).  People scoffed at the lack of necessity for such a machine in a small town.  Sure enough, though, the Lord’s promises were fulfilled in half the time because of Grandin’s seemingly imprudent purchase.
  4. The typical profit margin for books in this period was about 12%.  The profit margin for the Book of Mormon was closer to 30%.  E.B. Grandin at first declined Joseph’s request to print it, then reconsidered but certainly seemed to require a good chunk of the profits in doing so.

After a break to do laundry and take a nap (some of us), we went back to take a stab at the Sacred Grove.  Since it was just before the Hill Cumorah pageant that night, the grove had mostly cleared out and we were able to have a bit more solitude than the first time around.

Once again, we traveled at Jack’s pace(and wherever he led us).  Tim and I were able to share a brief testimony of the feelings we had there.

It’s interesting to me that the Sacred Grove is no more or less beautiful than other places we’ve visited.  We’ve been all across the West to various National Parks and other remote and stunning locations.  America the Beautiful is replete with gorgeous views.  But the feeling in the Sacred Grove is unmistakable.  It is a hallowed place where God the Father and Jesus Christ appeared to a young boy in response to his humble prayer.  It was an event that changed the course of history.  Although I don’t have to go there to know that, it was a truly special experience to have shared with my family.

 

The lost art of the thank-you card.

Less than a year after Tim and I were married, we flew down to Los Angeles for my cousin Scott’s post-wedding reception (hosted by the groom’s parents), my aunt and uncle.

Both families were significantly more well-to-do than my own (and Tim’s).  As evidenced by the prime beach club location for the reception and the presence of caviar on the menu.  Not in a hoity-toity way, of course.  Just giving a bit of perspective.

Being newly-married ourselves, and “starving” students, we didn’t have much of a budget for wedding presents.  So, naturally we didn’t splurge on their gift.  It might have even been a regift.  Maybe.

It was a strainer/colander.  Practical but not exactly the most exhilarating item to unwrap.  It was our humble offering to congratulate the couple on just starting out.

Within a month, I received the most gracious card from Scott’s wife Ashley, thanking us for coming and for the gift.  She was kind and sincere in her thanks, despite having received a plentiful array of presents to delight.

Tim and I have attended numerous wedding receptions in the seventeen years that have passed since then. Being more established financially, our gifts have far exceeded that one in class (and price).  None have generated the classy thanks of that particular  card.

In fact, if I were to venture a guess at the percentage of thank-you cards we’ve received for the gifts we’ve given, I’d say it was just under 50%.  Surprising, if you ask me.

You see, shortly after getting married myself, my top priority was to whip out cards to show gratitude for the many loved ones and friends who celebrated with us and sacrificed to give us a gift.  It took months.

I curled up on the couch as often as time would permit between school and work, and pen a thoughtful, personal note to each gift-giver.  My goal was to ensure that each person knew I remembered them and the specific gift they had chosen.

I even checked in with Tim when a name on the list didn’t ring a bell so he could help me put a name to a face.

Writing those thank-you cards was such a satisfying experience.

First, it reminded me of how many people took time out of their schedules to join in this happiest of occasion.  In a way, I could almost relive the joy of visiting with them as I took the time to thank them personally.  It was like a double-dose of happiness.  Gratitude does that.

Second, I’d like to think that it brought a smile to their faces to know that their sacrifice was not lost on me.  From my mission president and his dear wife who drove several hours to attend our sealing, to my old Texas friends who made a road trip from San Francisco to be there.

From my sweet aunt whose husband had recently passed who came all the way from Chicago to the members of Tim’s family who also flew out from the Midwest to show their support.

It meant a lot to me.  I wanted them to know that.  I think they did.

And third, I simply think that sending thank-you cards is a classy thing to do.  When Ashley sent me a thank-you card for that silly strainer, I almost laughed out loud.  But it said a lot about her.  She’s a class act.

Not only does gratitude demonstrate our level of graciousness, it multiplies the joy of all involved in those expressions of gratitude, from giver to receiver.

I spent three years as president of the Young Women organization at church (and as a teacher of the 16-18 year-olds for two years before that.

When each young woman graduated from high school and moved on to the women’s organization at church, I gave each of them a gift, along with a card to express my love for them and the joy that it was to be their leader. I tried my darnedest to make it personal, so they knew that I loved each of them individually.

I received many thank-you cards for those gifts.  Some made me cry.

One year as I wrote a card to one of these graduating young women, I had a hard time finding the words to express how I felt about her.  To be sure, she was blessed with an abundance of talents and gifts, which I could easily enumerate.  But she lacked warmth, and so I found it hard to muster the exuberant expressions of praise/love that came so easily when addressing other young women.

I silently prayed that I could do her justice in the card I wrote and was filled with an overwhelming feeling of love for her.  My pen took over and I filled the card to capacity with my heartfelt, genuine identification of the incredible person I think she is.

Sure enough, when I received a thank-you card from her fairly promptly thereafter(she had been taught by her parents to do so), I opened it and stopped dead in my tracks.  She had given a cursory thanks for the graduation gift.  And that was it.

No acknowledgement of the tender words in the card I had given her.

No mention of the hours (and hours) I had expended on her behalf as Young Women President.

It was SUCH a letdown.

Do I love her any less?  Of course not.  Do I regret having composed such a genuine show of love to her?  Not a bit.  I hope it had positive effects on her despite no indication of it on her end.

However.  There are three lessons in the story:

One, to express thanks is good.

Two, to feel gratitude is inspiring.  It fills the soul.

Three, to express thanks with a heart full of gratitude blesses all parties involved.

As a mother, I hope to instill the habit of saying thank-you in my children.  It goes far beyond verbal expressions of gratitude.

After Christmas, we break out a stack of cards and take turns writing thanks to those who sent us presents.  Each child is encouraged to do the same after a birthday.  When we arrive home from a trip during which friends hosted us for a meal or an overnight stay, we do the same.

It’s simply a habit now.  Hopefully one that sticks.  And even more importantly, a habit that generates a true sense of gratitude behind the expression of it.