Through My Window

So much I see through my window
A branch of blossoms in the spring
A fleecy cloud in summer skies
A little child - a precious thing.

I've watched the crimson sunsets fade,
The thrush returning to its nest
Busy traffic heading homeward
A tired world - seeking rest.

So much I see through my window
The last dry leaf of amber fall
The quiet snow of wintertime
Marshmallowed o'er my garden wall.

Its there I count the stars at night
And count my many blessings too
Its there I measure my regrets
And humbly ask forgiveness too.

And when my heart is troubled most
Seeking release from pain and care
I wander to my window then
And feel His presence with me there.

He soothes my wounds, and lifts my soul
While all lay silent in the sod
So much I see through my window
As I linger there - with God!

To A Spider In The Bowl

I can see you spinning round and round
Caught within your snare
Helpless creature that you are
Struggling in your prison there.

Your efforts are so futile
They'll endlessly go on
Yet you are weak and know not --
That your strength will soon be gone.

And mighty giant that I am
Just the merest puff of breath
Could give you back your freedom
And save you from this death.

And as I tower above you
Your fate within my hands
I recognize your nothingness
Controlled by my commands.

So plead with me - beg of me
That I might mercy give
For my very slightest gesture
Could let you die -- or live.

And as the shadows of the day
Moved across my room
I viewed again this tiny dot
In coiled, conceded doom.

I pondered as I stood there --
My head bowed shamefully
Compassion crept into my heart
My soul began to see --

As my thoughts began to soar and rise
To Him who dwells above
I felt His greatness over me
I pleaded for His love.

How small and insignificant
I felt within His power
The sorrow -- and humility
I knew within this hour.

Oh helpless creature that I am
I fall on bended knee
And God in all His mercy
Looked down and smiled on me!

Orvetta's thoughts: For when men get too much power, and too much pride in the heart, they are unknowingly in dire need of a humbling experience to make them humble again and fit for God.

The Wind

By Geneva Pace

Here I sit trying to think
And write a few lines at least
But the wind is louder than my thoughts
With fierce sounds that never cease.

So I just sit here alone looking out
Listening to it howl and watching it blow
The trees swayand the grease-woods dodge
Every little twig is bending to and fro.

The pretty white seagulls are baffled too -
Up with the wind they whirl then down they come
The sparrow's nest is empty, riddled and torn
And the Killdeer that sang so sweet, has gone.

The sun sets back in a milky sky -
Casting a gloom on the dust parade
The water dashes up like dirty snow
And there's a few trails the wind has made.

Mountains have disappeared far in the dust
And green fields look like the deseret sand
The loose gates bang and the windows shake
The cows in the corral are too nervous to stand.

So how can I think in a day like this
With the noise of wind and its haunting tune
I'll wait until the Killdeer sings again
And the air is filled with the Iris perfume.

Geneva's thoughts: One time when I was living on the farm, a terrible wind was blowing. I sat there looking out on the dreary day with my pencil and paper in my had to write something to help one of my daughters with a talk she was to give in Stake Mutual, but the wind was blowing most forcefully and I could not settel down to write as I became restless with the wind and wrote of it.

Mothers

I'm happy to be here.

Today I would like to share with you some of the thoughts that have been coming to me lately.

I was pondering - meditating - over my life and I asked myself this question, "Why do you think you are active in the church today? How did you grow to love the gospel?"

And I came up with this sure answer:

My mother, who loved the Lord herself and I watched her and listened to her, and began my first simple prayers to my Heavenly Father - believing. My mother would sit down and tell me, and my brothers and sisters, of some special spiritual experiences she would have and I could see the light and joy in her eyes as I listened and again believed. She took time to show me the first bloomed rose - letting me know this world is beautiful and God created it to be so - for us.

I would like you today, to think of your mother and the sweet memories you have.

All mothers, yes all mothers, leave their influence upon us. Our mothers instilled in each of us lessons in life, warmth and love. We may recall homemaking, teaching a special recipe we use of mother's - a special tradition. And I feel that we grow into these later years there is something that draws us even closer to our mother.

We came through the years in a period of family closeness, didn't we? We were blessed - we all sat around the table for our meals at the same time. On occasion if one should be missing, the empty chair filled us with a little emptiness. We studied around the same table, we knew of each others interests and feelings in a much more intimate way than ever today. We were blessed.

Life today toakes on a fast pace - a hurrying and scurrying where we cannot know our family members so well.

Brother & Sister Pickering

Dear Brother and Sister Pickering,

It is a pleasure to express thoughts of appreciation to you - because it will be so easy, sincere, and from the heart.

When I said "Yes" to Sam - and became Mrs. Samuel B. Groom on December 29, 1987, I anticipated the many changes that would come into my life.

One of the greatest highlights has been working in the St. George temple, and a big part of that has been getting to know you, Brother and Sister Pickering, our supervisors.

To you, Sister Pickering, in my memory I shall always see your black popping eyes, expressing the enthusiasm that lies within your soul. Your love of life radiates - your quick steps - (and excuse me, your tiny waist) make up the part of you I will remember.

And then when I add to this the "always" smile of you, Brother Pickering, I see before my eyes the scripture, "Let your light so shine . . . (and) glorify your Father, which is in Heaven." To me this is the gospel ("good news"). We should be the happiest people on earth and we should show it - and you do!


In Appreciation

All things come to pass, they say
And soon you will move on
To other heights of service
You'll always carry on!

These are thoughts I'll keep of you
They'll always be a part
Of special memories I'll hold
Tucked deep within my heart.

Always we would find you there
Steadfast and early too!
Gleaning and rearranging
The work we'd have to do.

And one thing I could count on
I knew I'd hear you say
As you'd look down on your schedule
"It's going to be a good day!"

Cheerfulness is a part of you
I always find it there
Kindness always on your lips
You give concern & care.

The world's a better place, I know,
For all the lives you touch
I thank you very much!

Have You Heard About Our Teacher?

Have you heard about our teacher?
It really surprises us so
We never thought she'd do it
And then before we knew it
She up and caught herself a beau!

For years and years and years she's tried to catch one
Her folks were beginning to get a little afraid
That time was running out and she was just about
To turn into an old school teacher maid!

And then one day she cast her eyes on Lonny
And was determined she would catch him in her net
She said no one could stop her
And man she caught a whopper
We don't know how she did it yet!

But she has lots of little tricky tactics
She's always working on a scheme or two
She said, "I'll make some plans, how I can catch this man"
Just let us tell you of a few.

We were planning on our swimming party
Packed it with fun galore
Then Miss Fullmer went to the phone and said,
792-84.

"Hi Lonny, we're having a party
This Monday night at eight
My Sunday school class has got it all planned
And they can hardly wait
But twenty kids are coming, I can't handle them alone
So I was wondering if you'd be the other chaperone?"

"And then, of course, I guess you know
That I can't swim a stroke
So if I should need a life guard
You'll be around, I hope?"

So Lonny came to the party
To protect her from all harm
And when the night got chilly
He kept her comfy warm!

And when she was teaching in Provo
Once again her plans were laid
She decided she must have some help
To make some visual aids.

She'd promised her little students
She'd build a teepee strong
With colors bold and daring
She'd have to call on Lon.

So off to the little school room
They went one moonlit eve
To complete another assignment
She was laughing up her sleeve.

They painted, pasted, cut and snipped
And how the time went by
They didn't really notice
Do you know the reason why?

A policeman strolling on the street
Kept looking at that light
And said, "What could be going on in there
When it's this time of night?"

He strolled some more and checked his watch
And with no further hesitation
He said, "I think it's time to start on my investigation."
So carefully he tiptoed up to the door to listen
And said, "Oh dear, I think I hear,
Somebody in there kissin'!"

He pushed the door with all his might
Do you know what it was instead?
It was the teachers marking pen
Scratching on more red!
They weren't making whoopee
Just a teepee!

Well we could go on forever
And tell you about her schemes
But by now you all have realized
That all her plans materialized
And she found the answer to her dreams.

So today the news is greatest
And it's the very latest
For she not only caught him
But as of today she's GOT HIM --- FOR KEEPS!

September 11, 1969
Reading presented by Nedra Fullmer's Sunday School class.

Lovely Things

My world's so full of lovely things
Each rising dawn brings beauties new
If only I could keep a part of
Every day that passes through.

The rain must over fertile fields
The stately tree so tall
The crimson sky at sunset
As the twilight shadows fall.

If I could only stretch my arms
And capture all I see
I'd hold it close securely
And keep it there with me.

I linger with the summer
And feast upon each hour
Explore each heavy-laden branch
Til I know every flower.

I touch each fragile petal
Of the roses in full bloom
I find the springtime lilac
And drink deep of its perfume.

Oh doesn't your heart pity
That man that doesn't see
This beauty that surrounds him
Who walks on aimlessly.

Tho' robins send their thrilling notes
Across the fragrant air
His ears are deaf -- silent
He goes on unaware.

The golden morning sun will rise
And open my new day
Compelling me to reach beyond
With it's magnetic ray.

I dare to race the wildest winds
And o'er green meadows fly
Releasing all my secret dreams
I toss them to the sky.

My thoughts will build as rising
Waves that push through heaving foam
My hopes shall reach the highest peak
I'd conquer heights unknown.

Oh doesn't your heart pity
The man that cannot feel
This vibrancy of morning
His soul unmoved -- still!

And should this day escape me
And vanish from my sight
I'd love the quiet gray of dusk
As it softly turned to night.

And doesn't your heart pity
The man who doesn't know
The peacefulness of evening
As life's shadows fade and go.

My world's so full of lovely things
Each step I take brings beauties new
And if I could, which would I choose
To linger with til day is through.

If God would only take His hand
And gather all for me
Then hold it in safe keeping
For my eternity!

May 21, 1968

Memories of My Mother

Today my heat is filled with love, and deep humility.
And memories of a mother
That God had given me.

He gave me someone special
Who was kind and sweet and true
Who found her hreatest joys in life
In the good that she could do.

If one could read inside her book
That tells of her life's story
They'd find her sons and families
To be her greatest glory!

Each page so tenderly would hold
The warth and love and pleasures
Each special person brought to her
And each, a cherished treasure.

She did not seek for riches
Her guest was not for fame
The simple things she valued most
The joy of work, an honest name.

The little thoughtful things she did
Somehow could say so much
And all who knew her felt her love
Her quick ways - her gentle touch.

You see, she taught her sermons
Not by words as many do
But by her deeds and actions
Her creed came shining through.

Many useful years she gave
Before her illness came
And many days and months she's laid
In suffering and pain.

And now today she's left us
For a more exalted sphere
I'm grateful for the life she lived
While she was with us here.

And there's rejoicing in my heart,
combined with memories
That she is free from earthly care
Her soul has found release!

Composed for the mother of Robert E. Steele

Story Of Our Lives

I've just been adding and totaling since two thousand three has begun
So many paths we've traveled, let's turn each page one by one.

We've sung our "Happy Birthdays" blown the candles, had our cake
Jumped so high from our Palladium seats as those three pointers she would make!

We've watched the Priesthood circle and hold within their arms,
A tiny little baby boy so cuddly and warm.

And then we've heard his father's voice so touched with gratitude and love,
Pronounce his name, then blessings sought from our Father up above.

Now we're dining out together. It's grandma and her children, all.
Enjoying, talking laughing! Oh the memories we'd recall!

And now I look upon him, this fine young man sits there -
His father's hands upon his head, in my heart a silent prayer!
For he's ordained to be a priest, advancing on his way
And all the family gathered there upon this Sabbath day!

Now there is a time and a season as we each fulfill our years
The family has all gathered - at the graveside shedding tears.

So here is the other season, wedding bells, the bride's bouquet!
See the sparkling girl who caught it, she knows her turn's not far away.

Not wedding bells but school bells are starting now to ring
It's seminary graduation and "Good Old School Goodbye" she'll sing!
And the nearly college graduate is locking up his flat
To head to spacious new green fields he's so anxious to be at!

And so we turn the calendar page, we're to the month of June
And we all know that "Summer Theater" is coming up real soon!
Time to play and drop the work, for the wolf to make his howls
And how it amazed us all to see those big eyed, hooting owls!

And those hyenas with their mocking laugh, we laughed through every minute --
The ghost, the skunk that sprayed around! ('Twas only water in it).

Hot summer's now upon us, July parade comes down the street
To see that bright pink dress swing by, 'twas worth sitting in that heat!

And as we see the waving flag, our loyalty breaks through
We love our town, our country free, our own red, white, and blue!

And oh the joy of families -- the blessings heaven sends
This, the greatest gift of all -- the gift that never ends!

August 9, 2003

Pumpkin Pie

Sam was hungry for a pumpkin pie
So I said that I would bake one.
One big can makes two big pies
So to John and Joan I'll take some.

I looked upon these steaming pies
And figured I'd better decide
Who gets this much, who gets what
How shall I divide?

There's five for John and four for Joan
And Sam can still have plenty
But wait until you hear this out
Cause he did not get any.

Before it got delivered
I heard someone say
That Nate and Erika decided
That they'd arrive today.

Now seven for John and four for Joan
Now how much will remain
Oh dear the thought has struck me
I must deliver down the lane.

A funeral now has been announced
One pie I'd better take
This would be the thing to give
No need to bake a cake.

Oh dear now what should I do
I've promised John and Joan and Sam
So I have got to follow through
I'll do the best I can.

So the pie for seven will go to John
I'm trying so hard to please
I'll bake the frozen one for Sam and Joan
They got the Sarah Lee's.

January 25, 2001

Topaz

When Pearl Harbor was attacked by the Japanese, the United States government decided to gather all Japanese throughout the U.S. and put them in concentration camps - where freedom was taken from them.

Several thousand acres of land were purchased out in Millard County. This is west and north of Delta -Delta being the only nearby down with shopping areas and etc., service stations, hospitals and etc.

By September of 1942 a good part of the camp was built. The location - way out on barren ground by itself - was settled with tall mountains surrounding it, and one of the mountains was called Topaz Mountain. So that's how this concentration camp got its name - the mountain was north-west about 20 or so miles away.

It was sad to think of these people - imprisoned you might say - ripped from their homes, places of business, and out in a barren land of nowhere. Their living quarters so scanty and meager - long lumber barracks, partitioned walls inside didn't even go clear up to the ceiling. There was no privacy to speak of.

And high barbed wire fences closed it in and guards on duty always shot at anyone trying to escape. One Japanese was shot and killed tyring to escape - another sad tragedy. Some of the Japanese were so uncontrollable they were moved from Topaz to a concentration camp in California. So, the population was reduced to 8,778.

Ushered into our area by train, they were allowed to go into Delta to shop and etc. They were closely watched going and coming.

I had the experience of having five Japanese at my home Monday through Friday, as with war on, our young men called in service had left Delta desolate for farm help. We had large acres to care for, you know, no modern machinery much in 1942, so these five men had my two upstairs bedrooms. We formed a good friendship. I cooked for them three meals a day. They worked hard on the farm. They were very clean and bathed every evening.

These people created a new life. They had their own Post Office, their own hospital of 128 beds, their own eye and dental clinics, own fire department, own newspaper, own government offices and buildings.

They created their own schools:
3 preschool nurseries
2 elementary schools
1 high school
1 adult education school

They were proud of their schools of art, music, sewing, and classes in "Americanness."

They set up recreational programs - basketball, baseball, bridge tournaments, ping pong, hunting arrowheads, rock gardens, making artificial flowers, a theater, and a public library with both English and Japanese books. Once a week, they had a record concert.

Let me tell you, a meteorite found out in the mountains by two Japanese is now in the Smithsonian Institute in New York, the ninth largest in the world.

They had various religions and had five churches. Some were Buddhist, Seventh Day Adventist, and LDS churches.

Once a year, a handful of Japanese returned and held a reunion. They stood on the spot they once had to call home. I've been to their reunion as my singing group has performed there. I've stood on that spacious barren ground with steadfast hills still surrounding that once-lived spot. I've watched the tears roll from their eyes. I've seen the trembling lips that have spoken softly and emotionally as one another traded thoughts of those years of 1942-1945.

Heartbreakingly, the majority of those imprisoned here were Japanese-American citizens -500 of their boys in armed services, serving our country.

The war ended. They wrote to us and mailed us some gifts. I still appreciate and cherish my chopsticks in the black ebony box.

January 9, 2000
Interview with Jonathan

Catch The Sunshine

It's evening. I have just come in the house from mowing the lawn. The fresh white clothes are swaying on the clothesline. The cooling breeze is so welcome after a hot August day. A peaceful feeling engulfs me and I am counting my many blessings. The Lord has been so good to me. The world looks beautiful. Wherever I look I see opportunities awaiting me -- the green waving garden, refreshened with damp brown rows. Sidewalks that need sweeping and spraying -- clean clothes that need folding, good books to read, letters to write, friends to call, music to play -- oh, the world is ladened with interest, things to do, pleasures and comfort.

As I ponder over all of this before me, I realize that peace in my soul is what opens my eyes to the goodness of it all. For my thoughts carry me back to times when I have felt the weight of a complete contrast -- when my little room was dismal, with dusty shelves, unwanted books, cobwebs draped over my heart and that drab, boring feeling that says there is nothing, simply nothing worthwhile. Now when was this time? The sky, the trees, the people were still there -- but I, through a sudden and sorrowful disappointment in my life, began to feel forgotten, unnoticed, and lonely. I crawled in my little shell and closed the curtain -- clinging and nesting in self-pity. My heart gave way to that moment of ungratefulness.

Most of us experience at some time in our lives some sudden disruption to our happiness. We fall into these dreary, "lump in the throat" days, so bluish that even a tear dare not break through. If we could just motivate ourselves to dust off the first shelf, brush the cobwebs that cloud our view -- throw open the window and take a good deep breath. Tast the freshness of the morning, toss the crumbs to the birds, and let the heart sing merrily with them. Catch the sunshine as it travels, show it to a child. Oh yes, life can be beautiful, but the vision of it all lies deeply in the soul. The eyes are merely the windows that let it take flight.

August 4, 1980
To add to my life's story.

They Need Me

One little part of my environment has gone by me -- unnoticed. Through my family rearing years with seven children and a husband in the house, I've paid no attention to the pets -- the cats, dogs, puppies and what have you. I don't want to suggest that I've been cold and unresponsive. I have admired them, talked to them, but actually caring for their needs never crossed my mind. It's just that my minutes and seconds were tremendously scheduled and I subconciously, knew all eight of my household were warm, affectionate, and caring toward them.

Well, 1978 found me alone for the first time in this big house with major adjustments. I came to realize one day the cats were being neglected. I looked upon them suddenly thinking, "Where are the people of this house that have cared for you through the years? They are gone and now you have become my inescapable responsibility."

I am proud of my progress. They are my new friends. Each time I return home from the office they run to meet me. The gray cat and the white cat follow me to the clothes line, the garden, the incinerator and the mailbox. They have turned to me and I am needed.

When I am late getting home -- starved -- and meet the meowing cats I cannot eat one bite until their bowl is filled. My love and awareness of animals has taken on a warm, joyous feeling in life. I found myself, the other day, running across the lawn like a streak of lightning to shoo the cat away from a broken-winged bird. I arrived home last night and found one glass of milk left in the refrigerator. My purring cat, who had greeted me at my driveway with such pleading eyes caused me to go back outside and share it 50-50. What a satisfying experience!

Ho Hum

Ho Hum -- sometimes I think I am becoming a mechanical robot. My life remains so monotonously the same. I arise in the morning, dump the ashes, stir up the fire, get the bucket of coal, feed the cats, eat my bowl of wheaties, go to work.

I come home from work, dump the ashes, stir up the fire, get the bucket of coal, feed the cats, eat my bowl of bread and milk, go to bed -- the same -- the same -- the same -- day after day.

However, in the near future, I can see a change in view. I shall exchange the bucket of coal for two buckets -- exchange the wheaties for hot oat meal.

November 8, 1980

Sadie Hawkins

Get out your overalls, patches don't matter
Get in your calicos and start the chatter
That this Saturday night is the time
For the young folks, old folks to get in line
For the Sadie Hawkins Hoedown is due right away
For the corn's in the silo
And the barn's full of hay
So let's forget our troubles
And all join hands
We'll dance at Sutherland
To Virgil Larsen's Band
You can swing your honey
To Justin Smith's calls
You don't money*
Just come, that's all!

*Except:
Apple Cider: 5 cents
Doughnuts: 5 cents

Post Office

See, one of my most embarrassing moments when I was a little girl - I was very, very conscientious and wanted to do everything right because my mother always bragged on me and said, "You were such a little lady," and, "You were so nice."

She would take me to Relief Society doing her visiting teaching because she couldn't drive a car - the mothers in those days didn't drive cars. So she'd walk up the block and some days I'd just be home with her and she'd take me visiting teaching. She'd say, "Now I know, when I go in to give this lesson, you'll sit down on the couch and you'll fold your arms, and you won't say anything while I give the lesson."

I would walk in, I would sit on that couch, I would fold my arms, I would say nothing all the time she gave the lesson. And then we'd walk out, start down the sidewalk, and she'd say, "You're the nicest little girl in the world. There's nobody that could sit like you do." And so I would just do this to be bragged on.

Well, so this day when I was about six - I was six - we had to go pick up a package from the post office. And I don't know whether it was my big sister Beryl or who that just drove up to the post office and had me run in to get it, or maybe I walked from my home to get it. And so I walked into the post office to ask for the package. And my dad worked for the post office, but he wasn't there at the time of course, and the man that worked with him knew me very well. His name was Willy Willaby. His name was William Willaby, and everybody called him Willy - Willy Willaby. He always just kind of teased me, you know, and talked with me all the time, and he said, "Oh, this package, you have to sign for it to get it." And so he handed me a piece of paper and a pen. Well, I had just learned to sign my name - I was a little girl six. So I stood there and I wanted to write as pretty as I could to sign my name, and as I started to sign it - see, I'm a south pond, I'm a left hander - and I turned my hand up like this to sign my name to get the package, and he said, "Stop, stop! That will ruin my pen! That pen's only for right handers!" Oh, I about cried. I dropped the pen fast and I was just about to cry because I had ruined his pen. And he laughed and said,

As told to and recorded by her son, Steve Nickle.

How To Make Gum

See, we didn't have much money to buy ice cream cones, or gum and things.

And they said, "We have a recipe how you make gum."

I said, "You do?"

And they said, "Yes. You go out there on the ditch way out back, and you pick those milkweeds, and you bring these milkweeds in, and you cover them with water. And you have to let them set four days under that water. And then after they've been under the water four days, you lift them out and drain all the water off and you rinse them good. Then you unfold them all, and you have to let the sun dry them."

They gave me the complete recipe. I followed it! All the way through! It was terrible, and I was SO disappointed. They said I'd have gum in seven days! And on the seventh day, I went out there, and they still looked like milkweeds!

That's what they did to me, all the time.

Childhood memory as told to and recorded by her son, Steve Nickle. A practical joke by her brothers Elwin and Clarence.

To Ann & Brent

When God looked down upon this earth and saw the time had come
To place into a special home, a precious newborn son
He chose the parents wisely, he knew that he must find
A home aglow with light and truth to house this son, divine.

For He knew this little spirit, so pure from heaven's care
Would linger just a little while 'til he'd be called back there.
He searched for parents who'd be strong and understand his ways
Trusting God would be with them and help them through their days.

And oh, how God doth love them and if He could He'd spare
The heartache that has come to them, the cross they're called to bear.

Yes God, in all His mercy, feels this sorrow too
His heart is full of love and hurt as He looks down on you.

For oh the joys this baby brought -- so quickly time goes by
So little time to hold him close and sing a lullaby
So little time to dream and plan the future for their son
Then all too soon the bow and say, Dear Lord, Thy will be done.

Yet God in all His wisdom knows the future plan
He knows the blessings waiting since this small life began
He knew you'd put your trust in Him
He knows the joys in store
He'll hold them in safe keeping
They're yours forevermore!

The Old Man Down The Lane

Where did he come from?
Who is he?

The Old Johnson house has been forsaken and abandoned for years - it's a forgotten shack of the past.

Who in the world is this mystery man now hiding out there?

He's a loner - a stranger - and doesn't fit our country style of living.

We all know each other - know a lot about each other - watch out for each other. But who is this misfit who keeps himself alone, hid up?

Is he some kind of fugitive, hiding out? What has he done? There is no vehicle of any kind. How did he arrive here?

He's probably not going to stay long, he's made no effort to pull a weed, put up a curtain, clean the walkway. The old broken-down window is carefully crammed with rumpled papers.

I'm glad it's appearing to look a temporary stay.

My mother, my dad, my two sisters, all working in the fields nearest this old house, should be the more concerned of all to greet this unexpected visitor.

I know he wants no part of getting acquainted.

Last Wednesday I drove near enough to the old house to find him sitting on the old wood steps. I was driving slow and I decided that maybe I should give a wave of my hand as I passed by, but his head conveniently turned another direction avoiding my gesture.

But I was glad - I didn't really want to get anything going - but I felt pressed to make the first step at that moment as a good neighbor ought to do - the way we always do - out here in the spacious country.

Well, I did see that the old mailbox in front of his house held no new name, and come to think of it, never once have I seen the red flag up holding a letter to go, and never once has the mailman stopped there that I've seen.

Surely he's hiding from something. And the more I think of it, our family being the closest neighbor, it should be our duty to do a little more investigating.

This weekend I'll be down in the bottom of the field irrigating. I'll be doing night irrigating so I'll slip up quietly, close enough to the yard that I can peer (peek) through a window and learn a little more of that he does with his time.

On purpose I watched for our mailman so I could see if he knew the name of the old man living at the Old Johnson Place. Just as I figured, he did not know. He verified what I had believed. He had never stopped at the old mailbox - no mail to deliver there ever.

Well, my weekend came, I drove the old 4-wheeler to take care of my irrigating down in the south end of the field.

But my plans to steal into the yard and peek at this mystery man failed. No lights ever turned on, no lamp, no candles, not a flicker of light in the old house. Now, what is he doing in there in the dark?

Everybody is out planting gardens now, and this old man has been hiding out here for over two months.

Each time I pass the old house I hope beyond hope that I will not see any garden - I want him to go- this is getting too much.

I want to feel freedom - sing to the spacious skies as I roll the tractor along. I want to smell the new mown hay and watch the colorful pheasant fly out to safety from my turning wheels. I want all of this to come back the way it was when the old house stood alone by itself, with little jackrabbits peering through the weeds.

But I'm realizing I'm turned inside, ever fearing, ever wondering since the arrival of this unwanted mystery man. He doesn't know it, but he has imprisoned me in what used to be my happy world.

Yes, this is it, there is no need living within these walls of fear.

Something must be done - whatever must be done, must be done - but I want to hash it out in the open. I shall talk with my dad and my family and decide how to get to the door and confront this character.

But then, something happened. The plans of talking with my dad and my family about the horrible situation never came to be.

Something happened first - heavy rain began to fall and flood. I was in the south field, and as I was hurrying to get home to cozy shelter, really hurrying past the Old Johnson house, I glanced over just in time to see the lightning flash and light up the skies and show a form face down on the ground. The old man. No other thought came into my mind but "help him!" I found myself lifting a helpless body into his abode to escape the dashing rains.

He was alright, all was well, and his quivering lips were murmuring, "Thank you, my son, thank you."

I covered his shaking body and then he told me his story when he was comfortable.

I hurried home to my family, the drizzling rain splashed playfully on my face, the air felt fresh and good. The smell of hot beef stew was simmering through the rooms on this cozy, rainy night.

"Mom", I said, "Can I take some of this soup to the old man down the lane? He came here to stay awhile, escaped from his children as he thought he was a burden. They needed a rest from him for just a little while. He life-long friend Tom brought him here, set him up comfortable and promised to tell no one of his whereabouts until he returned to get him after a two month stay - he's blind! Oh yes, his name is Joe Johnson, they called him 'Little Joe.'"

Old Swing

Old swing - why do you stand so silent? The grayness of your wood is rough and worn
The wind and rains have robbed you of your beauty -- your rusted chains, forsaken and forlorn.

I look upon the "rainbowed" seat and ponder -- so curved and warped by season and by time
Old swing -- I view you tenderly, in pity -- for all the sorrows that you feel are mine.

There was a time you danced in summer breezes - the singing birds gave sweetest melody
The earth was young and ladened us with fragrance -- and yellow sunshine smiled on you and me!

The happy days! So many hours you gladdened. You filled the air with laughter, song, and sky!
A magic world of gladness. And once again my heart leaps out in rhythm to catch and hold the memories gone by!

Old swing -- the birds took flight and left you. The storm clouds came and covered you with gloom --

And there you stand -- abandoned -- longing -- weeping -- for happy days that came -- but left too soon!

Orvetta's thoughts: Looking out my window on this cold bleak day of January, the "Old Swing" stands in my view - silent and desolate-looking with the snow and grayness of the day draped over it.

My mind keeps filling up with the beginning days of this "Old Swing" - crude, unpolished, handmade by my late husband. But firm, strong, and accurately built with the 2 x 4's and scraps of the repair shop - affectionately fashioned for the happy little hearts that blessed our home!

But life slips through our fingers. If we but knew we'd hold and cherish each sweet moment that is born.

The Jones' House

The Jones' house is big and grand, they live just down the street
Their floors are polished, windows shine. It's orderly and neat
I work and rush from morn til night yet mine can never be
Immaculate and clean like theirs, just what is wrong with me?
But as I stop and analyze, the answer comes out clear
Why theirs is always spotless, their kids play over here.

Little Bird

Little bird,

What happiness bursts from trilling throat!
What piercing tone of joy breaks the air!
You cannot know of universe, heaviness or sorrow.
Your tiny being swells with gladness for this time,
This rapturous moment, oblivious of tomorrow.
Teach me, lift me, take me to your lofty sky,
Give me wings that I may know the miracle of now
And wondrous things!

August 1986

Orvetta's thoughts: May we enjoy rapturous moments daily - the MIRACLE of life! May we slow down - and look up - from whence our blessings come!

The Little Princess

If there is anything that tears at the tenderness of a woman's heart, it is seeing a little child neglected, unwanted, in a cold, dirty, upheavaled house that she is supposed to call home.

I will long remember that snow packed winter, that I, a Relief Society president, drove to this little six year old's house every school morning to get her off to school.

Her mother, divorced, having a strong dependency on alcohol, was trying, along with this handicap, to keep her janitorial jobs at various business establishments, leaving for work at 6 a.m. each morning. Nancy was left to fare for herself and get off to school on her own.

The bishop exposed me to this heart rendering situation but I didn't know how heart rendering until I got into it. How my throat tightened to arrive and find her attempting to fasten a big safety pin through folds and folds of a ripped out seam at the waistline. Her faded dress covered her skinny little body, sagging ridiculously around her legs. How often the two of us together hunted under the bed, across the floor, through the drawers for two socks that would match. Often we were unsuccessful. So oversized were her few well worn clothes that I felt a pang of delight to see her cover up with a warm winter coat.

The kitchen held stale odors, soured foods, even clabbered milk left long on the kitchen cabinet. I soon learned to take along with me fresh milk for her corn flakes.

I remember asking her where she would be going for Thanksgiving dinner. She said her mother had to work but her Aunt Lucy would take her to her house. Good news. I didn't know her Aunt Lucy but I prayed that she would be kind and let Nancy feel the warmth of a Thanksgiving day that all the little children should be entitled to.

As I was stuffing my turkey that Thanksgiving morning and as my married children were arriving and filling my house with joy, my phone rang. It was Nancy. She asked if I could come and get her? She was alone. Her Aunt Lucy couldn't take her after all. And she wasn't sure but she believed her mother must be working again somewhere.

I dropped everything. I sped out of my driveway. Thoughts were furiously rushing through my head. "How could a Thanksgiving morning be so cruel to a little girl. We must all quickly stamp out these hurts she must be feeling - perhaps calloused hurts."

As I entered the disorderly home I looked upon this pitiful little child, sticky hair matted to one side of her head because she had dropped off to sleep last night with a lolly pop in her mouth. As we proceeded to the car my first thought was which door of my house could I sneak her through to get to my bathroom and clean her up. I couldn't stand the surprised glances she would receive from my little granddaughters in their soft curls and ruffled dresses. We slid down the hall. I disguised her as much as possible. My hair dresser daughter took over in loving kindness while I went on with preparing the dinner.

When she appeared, I was almost overwhelmed. She wore a bright little plaid dress of my granddaughters. Her hair was softly flipped, her nails polished. She had been transformed into a little princess. She felt she was a little princess . . . a princess for a day!

I gathered the little helpers around me and outlined some tasks that needed to be done to complete the dinner preparations. Each child speaking out for her choice of work. I felt Nancy's voice come through with, "Please, may I put the napkins around?" Yes, she had blended into our family circle.

As we all sat around the table giving thanks, I noticed I was not the only one misty eyed. A silent prayer soared heavenward as I thanked God for the love that hovered over our table. Nancy had opened our eyes and expanded our hearts on this Thanksgiving Day!

November 1981

Orvetta's thoughts: A true experience. Names changed to protect the little girl and family. She really was a pretty little girl if you could look beyond her straggly, dirty little elbows and a dress that draped so unevenly around her skinny legs.