A Legacy

I've been thinking about legacies lately, a lot.  I don't know if it is because of the things I have been doing recently, because of conference, because of the events that are taking place, or that I am just getting older...but nevertheless I have been thinking and pondering the legacies in my own life and whether or not I will leave a legacy.

When Wanda was just born I remember Rich being so very excited about her.  He wasn't allowed into my room when she was there, archaic hospital rules, so when he came to visit he could only see her through the nursery window.  However, one day the nursery nurses hadn't picked her up and she was still there when visiting hours started and he came in.  She had just finished "filling" her pants and I was about to change her but Rich was so eager to hold her and to touch her that he excitedly changed her diaper.  I sat there thinking about how different this was than what he had said he would do when she was still in utero...he had flat out said he wouldn't change diapers!  But there he was...gently caring for his little baby girl.  As he finished he swaddled her and gently lifted her into his arms and looked down into her little face and, in wonder and awe, he proclaimed that he was now someone's ancestor.  It was such a tender moment, a tender mercy really, that was to be played out another five times in our lives.  How grateful I am for him and for each of the children that our Heavenly Father has blessed us.

As I was driving Dad back from Church on Sunday he pointed out a row of apartments and commented that a little four-year-old girl had been murdered in one of them.  We both lamented the tragedy and senselessness of such a despicable act.  How sad it is that precious child's life had been snuffed out instead of being cherished.  I couldn't help but wonder why - what had driven someone to do that - was there such lack of self discipline, so low a regard for life, were there no support systems in place - why?

For the past few months I have been working on Ruby's blessing dress.  Hundreds of hours and dollars - but mostly love and excitement - went into making her little dress.   Rich and I have tried to provide a blessing outfit for each of our grandchildren - as it has been something that we have wanted to do, except where other grandparents or great-grandparents have wanted that opportunity too.   Six years ago I decided to try my hand at heirloom sewing and creating the little dresses.  I'm afraid my early attempts were made with quite a bit of fear and intrepidation.  Today I am still learning and my efforts are still made with some fear and intrepidation as I reflect on what their momma's would desire and wanting the dress be a symbol that reflects our love for our little granddaughter with each stitch I take.  I have only attempted once to do a little boy's outfit, that Adam wore, and I doubt that I will do too many of them as I find myself more frustrated than reflective...trying to find a balace of baby and masculinity...not easy....  I have made a dress for Ruth, Abby, Ellie, Reah, and now little Ruby - half of our precious granddaughters.  Wish I had had the courage to try them with Bekah, Rachel, Mary, Glory and Scarlett.  When Emily was born Desi thought she would spare me the worry and purchased a beautiful little dress.

When I arrived at the chapel on Sunday, April 10, 2011 for Ruby's blessing, I carried her dress so that Desi could get her ready for the blessing at the Church instead of trying to buckle her in her carseat with it on.  Emily came sauntering in from the other side of the chapel and with a huge smile she said, "Ahhhh...I see you have your beautiful wedding dress!"  I chuckled...as if I could fit such a tiny thing!!!  But as I have thought about the privilege that we have had at being at so many of our grandchildren's blessings (we've been able to make it to all except Glory and Scarlett's in England) I hoped that we would also have the privilege at being in attendance at their weddings in the temple.  It is my prayer that each of my grandchildren will choose to marry the right person, in the right place (the temple), at the right time...and I pray that they will make choices throughout their lives that will take them there.  I also pray that their moms and dads will carefully teach them, love them, nurture them, and cherish them as the precious gifts of our Heavenly Father.  When I think about the tremendous  faith He has in us, to help His little ones that He has entrusted in our care, I am in awe.  It is such a humbling experience to be a parent to these perfect little ones.  

When I was about four-years- old I remember sitting in our living room and being filled with love for my parents and brothers.  It was a perfect love.  It filled my soul and I knew that what my parents were teaching about my Heavenly Father was true...in fact...I knew that the love I had for my family, and really everyone, was because we are His children.  It was His love and I could feel it all around me - and through me.  It consumed me.  It brought me peace, joy, and  great comfort.  I have thought so often of that day...the legacy it has been in my life.  So often I have hearkened back to it and remembered  those exquisite feelings, and known that our Heavenly Father loves me and every one of my brothers and sisters.  What a wonderful thing it would be if we could all, each and every one of us, know that we are in deed our Heavenly Father's and Heavenly Mother's children.  How would it change us?  I think of that and feel that it would have to make a difference to know it...but I am saddened to realize that Satan and those who chose to follow him in our pre-earth life knew that but it made no difference.  Why?  Obviously we all have agency...but why would you not choose our Father in Heaven?  Why would someone choose Satan?  The scriptures say that Cain loved Satan more than Heavenly Father, therefore he followed him.  But what could entice someone to love Satan more than Heavenly Father?  I just don't get it....  But in a way I do...every time I choose to disobey one of Heavenly Father's commandments I am choosing Satan...and usually I am persuaded to do that because of my own pride and my desire to escape the consequences...ohhhh such foolishness!!!

Ruby was blessed by her father, Michael John Rogers in the Westminster Ward, of the Wesminster Colorado Stake.  Both of her grandfathers - John Rogers and Richard Bainbridge, Chris Reed, Tavita, Halitakoa, Corey Grip, John Burton, Rob Larsen, Bret Bowen, and Bishop Burton were in the circle of priesthood holders as she received her name and blessing.  She was given the name Ruby Marie Rogers and blessed with a happy and joyful mortality, with a family that would loved her.  She was blessed to develop a great love and testimony of the Savior, Jesus Christ, with righteous desires.  She was blessed to be a great joy to her family and to have opportunities to serve others.  She was blessed with a healthy and strong body, marriage in the temple, and all other blessing that her Heavenly Father would bless her.  She was also blessed to be a light of example to all she meets.  It was a beautiful blessing by a loving father, for and in behalf of her loving Heavenly Father - what a wonderful blessing and legacy.

During the Fast and Testimony Meeting I sat on the back row with Rich and with Karen and Dave Hamblin (Cherstin's inlaws) who had driven up to be there for the blessing.  They have become a third set of grandparents to Emily, Mordecai, and Ruby.  Just another tender mercy that the Lord provides us as a result of the gospel. 

While I sat in the meeting I had a powerful and tender experience as I felt that my mother and grandmother, and even others, were in attendance too.  So often I think of my Mom with great love and admiration, but also with a deep sadness and remorse...but I felt enveloped with love and joy as I felt her presence.  A special tender mercy with feelings too precious and sacred for words.  It only makes sense that they would be there for this special day...after all...she is theirs too.

The 10th of April is also the 46th birthday of my youngest brother, Chad Ian Pehrson.  I remember so clearly the day he was born.  I was 12 years old and practicing with a Primary Choir that was to sing at Stake Conference, when my father walked into the building and motioned for me to come down from the stand.  He told me mom had gone to the hospital and I needed to go with him.  I don't remember just where my other brothers were.  We left and went up to a restaurant near the hospital.  Dad told me I could order what I wanted and I ordered an ice cream soda...had never had one before but I thought this was pretty neat.  Soon we were joined by another priesthood holder, I believe it was Floris Copier, but maybe not, so that they could go to the hospital and give Mom and the baby a blessing. 

Chad was born at 9 lb...but was placed in an incubator.  Mom was Rh- and these were the days before Rhogam.  The very fact that Mom had six of us is astounding really.  However, the situation for Chad was serious.  His belirubin count was seriously high.  Ultimately he had to have his blood exchanged twice to bring those levels down.  At one point it appeared that he would be very lucky to escape brain damage...and we used to tease Chad that was what was wrong with him!  It seemed that for weeks, even when they finally released him from the hospital, he was as yellow as mustard.  Luckily all worked out and we were so grateful.  Dad would later tease him that when they had exchanged his blood they had not put human blood back in but instead had used donkey blood - and his affectionate knick-name for him was "the donkey".

One of my favorite memories of him was when he was about 15 months old.  My Dad had already moved to Germany with Derk and Mom was trying to get us packed, the house emptied and rented, and get us to Germany.  Grandma was living up in Holliday and we were staying with her.  Mom would go over to the house and work all day long, often taking the rest of us with her, except for Chad, leaving him with Grandma.  One day Mom and the rest of us had been gone all day long and Grandma had had Chad.  Chad would just go from one thing to another, getting in to things.  Grandma would just get one of his messes cleaned up and he would have gone on to another 2-3 by then.  When she tried to catch him Chad reacted like it was a game of "tag" and would just run faster and faster.  The house had a circular floor pattern and he could outrun her easily.   By the time we came home Grandma was in tears.  She was tired, frazzled, and completely overwhelmed by one little "hellion."

Another of my memories was that he would eat dirt clods.  The dr. had told Mom that is was probably because he was anemic but that he would outgrow it.  However, when we got to Germany the houses that we lived in had lathe and plaster walls.  Every wall that Chad's crib was next to had huge holes in it as he would scratch and dig at the wall to eat the plaster!  By the time we moved from the house in Spesback he had eaten a 2'X2" hole!

Chad was a very sensitive child by nature.  When we would go to a movie or watch TV he would often sense a scene coming and he would say, "I don't think this is good for me to see" and he would get up and leave for a little bit, but often he wouldn't return until he had queried whether or not it was "safe" to come back.  LOL 

When he was just three we moved from Augsburg to Kaiserslautern.  One day Mom had gone to R.S. (this was when R.S. was held during the day, in the middle of the week) and taken Chad with her.  As she was sitting in the meeting she heard a melodic little voice singing, "Mom, come and wipe me!"   Chad was pretty much potty-trained but she required that she or someone else take care of that final step - and he was complying!  Chad wasn't embarrassed - but Mom was feeling the heat.

Chad loved music, often singing at the top of his lungs.  When he was in Primary, the children were being taught a song that had "Hosanna" in the chorus.  As the chorister taught that chorus she would have the children sing it over and over and over again.  Our family had a wonderful family, the Swanders, that we did lots of things with and Jerry was Dad's counselor in the bishopric and Zana was a great friend to Mom.  When we got home from Church Chad was quite indignant that he'd had to sing a song about Zana all day long.  He wanted to know when they were going to sing a song with "O-Chad!" in it.  LOL

This gift of music came naturally to Chad.  He learned to play the piano and took up the Bass Violin, playing in the orchestra at school when our family returned stateside.  He also found sports came very easily and loved baseball and football especially.  He gave up the music in order to play ball.  Sad, but true.  He also has a natural artistic ability, loves to paint, do stained-glass work, etching, and draw. 

One of my favorite memories of all time was when Mom was so sick.  She had a terrible C-Diff infection that was just causing her such distress.  In fact, it is one of the things that haunts me so - I wish I had realized how sick, how near death she was - I digress, but one night she was "sicker than a dog."  The diahrea from the infection was uncontrollable and reeked.  Chad "happened" to come by and Mom was so glad to see him.  As they were visiting suddenly Mom knew she needed to get to the bathroom but she was so weak and in pain and her feet were wrapped and put in contraptions that made it impossible to walk.  Chad moved as quickly as possible to help her but by then it was too late and Mom was in trouble.  By the time we got Mom to the bathroom Mom had lost everything and the diarhea was everywhere.  Mom was mortified but too weak to help herself.  The smell was awful and I was struggling to find a way to help Mom without losing my dinner.  But Chad, with a deftness, compassion, and strength that we needed, helped me get her bathed and dressed, all the while assuring Mom that it was no problem and that it was about time that he paid her back for all that he had put her through.  Mom just kept apologizing and felt so awful to have to have her children help her like that.  But Chad just wouldn't let her go that route.  It was an extremely tender scene and I have often reflected on it and been grateful that he just "happened" to be there, and that when he was he was so supportive and kind.  He is truly a hero to me.

Chad has worked very hard to establish his own business, has his pilot's license, and now has a wonderful wife, Ronnie, and three beautiful children, Brandt, Taylor, and Chase.  Heb, I'm so proud of you and I love you.  Happy Birthday!                 

Prophets and General Conference

Today is General Conference.  I LOVE it!  I read an article this week in USAToday about General Conference and the Church...it was quite interesting and amusing.  It was trying hard to explain the doctrines and principles of revelation, prophets, and faith of the church and its' members.  Basically I came away with the impression that "they" think we're mind numb robots who blindly accept whatever the prophet says - kind of like the Jim Jones cult - but they really did want to give the impression that they weren't biased - yeah - it didn't work!  LOL 

That said, I guess I can easily understand the confusion and frustration of "outsiders" trying to understand why so many of us "hang on every word" that the prophet and the rest of our general authorities tell us.  I just wish that they knew of the peace and joy that come into our lives when we "follow the prophet."  Sometimes the blessings are immediate, but other times it is only by looking back over a lifetime that you recognize the protection and blessings that you have received.

When I was a young girl (14-18) I was influenced by the times in which I lived.  It was the height of the hippie era and that would eventually morph into the feminist movement.  However, I had been raised to believe in the role of our prophets and to follow their counsels. 

When I was a young child I adored President McKay and listened intently to the things he told us - in fact, I can still quote many of the things he would tell us - "no success can compensate for failure in the home" and the like.  He often taught about the importance of women and their roles as wives and mothers in the home, about the significance of the great work of raising a family.  I remember him talking about the dangers of the birth control pill to the family, about women who chose to leave their homes and children for careers, and about creating heaven on earth.  As I moved into my teen years that counsel, as well as the examples of my parents, was firmly in place and I knew that the things that I had been taught were true.  I may have been influenced by the societal changes but my moorings were solidly intact.

When it came time to choose a college I chose Ricks and then BYU.  In both schools I attended classes, devotionals, church meetings, and associated with people of similar values.  Again, each reinforced the teachings of my youth and from our prophets.  I remember attending a stake conference at BYU where Ezra Taft Benson came and talked to us about one of the dangers that lurked for us as college students nearing graduation - the danger of being caught up in pride and in believing in the philosophies of men rather than relying on the revealed word of God.  He talked extensively about the false educational ideas that were permeating our culture and society and that we needed to learn for ourselves the revealed truths that the Lord would have us know, and then to have the courage to act upon that knowledge.

As I married the feminist movement was beginning to roil.  Demonstrations, magazine articles, newscasters, classes and curricula were all pushing to change the roll of women.  We were being barraged with messages that we were oppressed by "male chauvinist pigs" and that sexual intimacy with our spouses was tantamount to rape.  Marriage and children meant that we were living below our potential and that we were better than that - that we had brains and it was in our careers that we would make a difference.  If those messages weren't well received then they added the idea that we were smart enough to have it all - marriage, home, children, and career...that it was quality time, not quantity, that mattered. 

After sixteen months of marriage we moved to Australia and I was spared much of the diatribe - we only had one television station  that was on for a few hours a day, very little radio, and no newspaper - for the next two years.  When we returned to the States in August of 1976 it was like I have gone through a time warp.  Phil Donahue, Sally Jesse Raphael, and their ilk filled the tv stations with sleaze and filth that I hadn't known even existed...in fact, I doubt many men even knew much of this stuff...I actually believe much of it was made up and promoted, perhaps just for ratings, but I actually believe that it was in an attempt to change the goal of the ideal to acceptance of the base and carnal. Barbara Smith, General Relief Society President of the Church, actually went on the Phil Donahue program to try and counter some of the trash that was being hurled our way because of our beliefs - but sadly she was mostly mocked and scorned and ridiculed. 

To say that there weren't truths in some of the feminist agenda would be a lie.  There were.  Equal pay for an equal days' work (if all things are equal) is a noble and virtuous goal.  But as with all of Satan's lies, the whole truth is seldom told or understood.  To say that I wasn't influenced by some of this would also be a lie...I was.  In fact, if it hadn't been for my upbringing and for our prophet I probably would have been marching in the streets, screaming, ranting, raving, and burning my bra with the rest of them.

As the 70's were coming to a close there was an all out attack on traditional values as the Equal Rights Amendment to the Constitution was debated across our great land.  Each state had a chance to vote on it and ratify it.  In theory it was brilliant.  Who could disagree with equal rights?  Not me.  However, the Church and our prophet, Spencer W. Kimball came out in full opposition to it, declaring it a moral issue.  As Utah prepared to vote on it there was a huge, week-long convention in the Salt Palace in Salt Lake City where women from across the state came to listen to speakers, pro and con, to caucus together, have classes, and learn about the amendment and the issues that were attendant, and to vote our conscience.  A plea went out through the stakes and wards to have our membership well represented.  I was selected as one of the representatives from our ward.  Every morning I would drive down to Salt Lake and drop the kids off at my Mom's and then go uptown for the daylong meetings.  I remember listening intently to the speakers, trying to discern why the prophet had taken such a firm line and what could be that bad with "equal rights." Every night I would go back to pick up the kids, talk with Mom (who was the Stake R.S. President in her stake at that time) about what I had learned, go back home and talk with Rich - and know that I couldn't see the problems with the proposed amendment that President Kimball was warning about.  Then next morning I would start the whole process over again and spend time discussing these weighty issues with my friends and other women that I admired...all the while knowing I didn't know any more than I had the day before. 

As the week came to a close and I prepared to vote, I knew that I didn't know what to believe.   I felt like I imagined Joseph Smith felt when he said, "...there was in the place where we lived an unusual excitement on the subject of religion.  It commenced with the Methodists, but soon became general among all the sects in that region of country.  Indeed, the whole district of country seemed affected by it, and great multitudes united themselves to the different religious parties, which created no small stir and division amongst the people, some crying, "Lo, here!" and others, "Lo, there!"  Some were contending for the Methodist faith, some for the Presbyterian, and some for the Baptist....In the midst of the war of words and tumult of opinions, I often said to myself: What is to be done? Who of all these parties are right; or, are they all wrong together?"....knowing that if any person needed wisdom from God, I did; for how to act I did not know, and unless I could get more wisdom than I then had, I would never know...."   

For some reason Rich came to the Salt Palace just as we were preparing to vote.  As we talked about how I would vote I must have expressed my self doubt because I remember him saying, "what does the prophet say?"  It was totally a rhetorical question but he then added, "well, what more is there to say?"  I left and voted against the amendment - knowing that I didn't have the wisdom, I could not see into the future, but I could follow the prophet and be assured that was what the Lord would have me do. 

The years have come and gone, the majority of the nation has no clue that there ever was an Equal Rights Amendment to our Constitution that narrowly failed to be ratified, and I have no clue what would have happened if it had...but as I have watched our society sink into the depths of filth, degradation, sleaze, cowardice, vulgarity, crudity, and immorality, I am thoroughly convinced that descent would have been much faster, much steeper, and much deeper than it has been.  As I have watched men be debased, dehumanized, and emasculated just because they are men - I am ashamed of my gender.  As I have watched families fall apart, marriages succumb to divorce, children become nothing but trophies or possessions, I have seen first hand the loneliness and hopelessness of what might have been if selfishness, thoughtlessness, and hedonism hadn't ruled the day.  As I have watched women who listened to the false gods that told them they could have everything, I have seen the despair when they realize that was a lie and they have sold their birthright for a mess of pottage.  Today the Phil Donahue program would seem tame in comparison to what is actually going on - and we are not the better for it.  President Kimball warned us, Sister Smith repeated that warning, and the Holy Ghost echoed those precious words of my husband to my very soul, "what more is there to say?"  I do not regret that vote - not in the least.  Some might say I was stupid to not be able to see what would happen - and they may well be right - but I have felt the blessings of following the prophet as I have watched the turmoil swirl around me and felt the peace that passeth all understanding.  If that vote were to be cast today I would have no trouble discerning the right course of action.  But the value of a prophet, seer, and revelator is knowing that our Father in Heaven knows all things from the beginning, He knows what is yet to occur, and that He will warn us through His prophets of the things that we need to do to escape the calamities that will come as a result of wickedness, and how we may learn His will for us, when we do not know those things for ourselves.   Our prophet, Thomas S. Monson, is the watchman on the tower for us today.   In the midst of the complete chaos that is our world today - I sure hope we all listen and follow him today, tomorrow, and for the next 6 months!