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!