The Road to Freedom

" Fuchs told me that the sunflowers were introduced by the Mormons; that at the time of the persecution, when they left Missouri and struck out into the wilderness to find a place where they could worship God in their own way, the members of the first exploring party, crossing the plains to Utah, scattered sunflower seed as they went. The next summer, when the long trains of wagons came through with all the women and children, they had the sunflower trail to follow. I believe that botanists do not confirm Fuch's story, but insist that the sunflower was native to those plains. Nevertheless, that legend has stuck in my mind, and the sunflower-bordered roads always seem to me the roads to freedom."
--My Antonia by Willa Cather.

And oh how I love them.

In my spare time...

I have acquired quite a bit of couch time as of late (read: slow eating nursing baby). So as not to become bored staring at the wall for 6-8 hours out of every 24, I have become a master at holding a book and flipping pages with one hand (I have also become a one-handed typing phenomenon... which is what I'm doing right now).

My latest genre of books has been of the WWII/Holocaust variety. I had a surprising amount just on my shelves:
Surprisingly enough, I had never read Night, despite it being on my "To Read" list (and my shelves) for quite some time. It is the memoir of a Polish Jew who is evacuated with his family and put in labor and concentration camps. Weisel does a beautiful job of pulling in the reader and making his experience come horrifyingly alive. It was sad to me, however, that his experience changed him from a fervent believer in God to a questioner.

Having read one holocaust book urged me to read a second. The Hidding Place is one of those books that gets quoted on occation in sacrament meeting and other such places. I had started it before, but did not get sucked in like I did this time. It is about a family--aging father and two unmarried daughters (in their 50s and 60s) in Denmark who become part of the underground railroad smuggling out Jews. And like Night, it is a true story. But such a contrast in how Corrie and Betsy (the sisters) handle the consequences of their actions compared to Weisel. I loved them from the beginning for their faith, determination, honesty, and goodness.

Much like The Hidding Place, In My Hands is about a resistance fighter rather than a Jew in a consentration camp. Irene Gut Opdyke was Polish and forced to work for the German Nazis who took over her country. Of all the books I read, this one was the most beautifully written. I loved the motifs, symbolism, and imagery.

I Will Plant You a Lilac Tree: a memoir of a Shindler's list surviver is about Laura Hillman's experience in labor and concentration camps before making it onto Schindler's list along with the Polish POW she had met and fallen in love with. While this book is not as beautifully or eloquently written as In My Hands, it is honest and real. Because my sister Sara knows the author, this story is horrifyingly real for me.

This is the first of my little series that is fiction. I read this book for the first time last year and loved it. I love the style, I love the frankness of the narrator (death), I love the characters, I love the imagery, I love the goodness in this story. This is about a make-shift German foster family who does not support Hitler in the middle of Nazi Germany. I was suprised my second time through how much language it had in it (although the vast majority is kept in German--which I don't speak--and doesn't seem to bother me as much as American swear words in print). I cried all the way through the end of this book again. When it was over, I wished there was more.

The Chosen is another book I have read before (many years ago) and remember loving. It is not as much about WWII--although it takes place during the war, only in America. It focuses on the friendship of an orthodox Hasidic Jew and a traditional Jew in New York. What I love about this book is the way it throws you in the middle of Jewish life and culture. And I love the depth and goodness of the characters. I wish I had the sequal, The Promise, but alas, I nor the SUU library seem to have it.

This is the only book left on my shelves in the WWII/holocaust genre. I started it... and I couldn't get into it (again). There something about Frankl's need to psyco-analyze the effect of the consentration camps that pushes me away. Not that I don't think what he's doing is valid, I just can't quite get pulled in yet. I feel kind of bad about it too, but what can you do?


Reading all of these books has made me think a lot about a lot of things. I think WWII pulled the absolute best and worst out of humanity. It is horrifying how brutal and cruel some were, and enobling and enabling to realize how courageous, kind, and good others were. Such a dichotomy.

It has made me reflect on why there is such suffering and the role God plays in our lives. Despite the many who lost their faith and their God because of their experiences, there were so many others who reaffirmed theirs. I am sure that God is not dead despite the millions who were killed. And I know that it was not his will that so much suffering and injustice occured. I am confident that justice will be served in the end.

I am sad to see my collection of this genre come to an end. Does anyone have any more suggestions for me? I feel somewhat at a loss for what to read next...

Hear Hear

After failing his hearing test at the hospital three times in a row Raymond's first three weeks of life, we were referred to a specialist. "Chances are," they said, "he just has additional fluid in his ears from the birthing experience. But better safe than sorry."

Today was the appointed day to find out.

Of course when we got there he immediately began crying uncontrollably. So far I'm not very good at swaddling him while still in my lap. A skill I definitely need to learn, as swaddling is the only consistent trick to calming him down. By the time we got back to the special hearing test room the poor boy was exhausted from all his ranting and raving. Since they needed him calm for the test, I lost all shame and swaddled him on the floor just like we do at home. Lucky for me he calmed right down and was a champion for the reminder of the two hours we were there.

At first it didn't look so good. They repeated the test from the hospital. And he failed again. They did a quick test to see if the cause was excess fluid in the ears. No extra fluid.

That's when they pulled out the big guns. They attached little electrodes to his forehead and both ears. There were two doctors--one who was obviously in training--who sat at the computer whispering and conferring. I sad holding the wee one awaiting the results. Although I know he's not deaf (he jumps at loud noises and responds to shhing and singing in his ear), it was a little nerve-racking waiting for the results.

But, dun dun dun, the good news is, his hearing is in normal range (the right ear was more responsive than the left... but they're both in normal range). Now we will just go back in a year to be sure that he's still on track.

Whew! Our little man is a hearer. Sigh of relief.

How to be happy

I recently stumbled across this talk by Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin. I have been thinking a lot particularly about this quote from it:

Make up your mind to be happy—even when you don’t have money, even when you don’t have a clear complexion, even when you don’t have the Nobel Prize. Some of the happiest people I know have none of these things the world insists are necessary for satisfaction and joy. Why are they happy? I suppose it is because they don’t listen very well. Or they listen too well—to the things their hearts tell them. They glory in the beauty of the earth. They glory in the rivers and the canyons and the call of the meadowlark. They glory in the love of their families, the stumbling steps of a toddler, the wise and tender smile of the elderly.

They glory in honest labor. They glory in the scriptures. They glory in the presence of the Holy Ghost.

One thing I know for certain: the time we have here goes by far too quickly. Don’t waste any more time sitting on the bench watching life pass you by.

I find it takes a lot of consistent effort to not want to be one step ahead of where ever I am. I am working on glorying in the moment, this stage, this time in my life. I hope to never look back and wish I had gotten off the bench a little more.

A blessed weekend

I can't even begin to tell you how wonderful it was to have everyone in town for Raymond and Chloe's blessings this past weekend. This was the first time most of my family meet Raymond John and the first time they visited us at our apartment. It was a weekend of good food, cute babies, and family, family, family.

Hooray for cousins! Tanner and Maggie

Sleeping Maggie and Raymond

Favorite Aunt Paige and Mags

Isn't she gorgeous? I sent my camera off with Sara, Stanford, and Paige (as I am not at all a photographer). When I got my camera back at the end of the weekend there were all sorts of gems. This was one.

Uncle Blake and the nephews got into a royal water fight. Aren't uncles the best?

Grandma was happy to hold all her babies. Here she is with darling little Chase. He is such a happy guy.

The fabulous Richins Family. They are such fun.

My mother is a very talented heirloom seamstress. I wish you could see upclose the beautiful hand tatted lace around the collar and hand stitched smocking. I LOVE this blessing outfit. I love seeing the pictures of Raymond in his sweet all-white outfit. It reminds me how very pure and innocent he is.

Even when he's crying.

The back is just as beautiful as the front. I love the buttoned belt.

I love that Raymond has two "Torgerson" cousins his age. And I love the chaos of this picture as the men folk show off the little ones.
Raymond is also lucky enough to have a Christiansen cousin his same age. Chloe was born just two days before Raymond and was blessed the same day in Nick and Jeanine's ward. I am so sad we didn't get a picture of the two together, but here is the beautiful Christiansen family featuring their darling new addition.

With the Christiansen grandparents

With the Torgerson grandparents.
The babelins and their mamas
All the Torgys
The proud papa
My little man. Don't you just love those jowels?

It was such a wonderful weekend. I was sad when the last of our guests walked out the door. I LOVED sharing my RayJ with everyone and partaking of general family goodness. My only regret was not getting to spend more time with the Christiansens, and the confusion between blessings that didn't let us take any pictures. I'm so sorry, Cansas. I feel terrible about that.

I ended up with so many cute pictures of Raymond John that you just might have to get used to seeing him in is beautiful blessing outfit for a while as they might show up in all my posts for a while!

all my lovin'

cj

People Post #2: Bill and Ann Bayles

When I moved to Blanding, I went with all sorts of romantic ideals of escaping American consumerism to be a small-town school marm while settling myself into the land of the West. I was alone in the world and didn't know a soul where I was going. I was ready to establish my independence. I was eager to throw myself into teaching and anxious to establish myself amongst the good people of Blanding. Until I got there, however, I didn't know how good those Blanding people would be.

My first Sunday in the Blanding 6th Ward I was quickly friendshiped by Pam Hosler and next by Ann Bayles--wanting to know if I sang, which part I sang (could I do alto?), and whether or not I would be joining the ward choir (the answer to all three was yes... a fact which kicked off our friendship). The next night Bill, Ann, Andrea (their daughter), and Kiren (their grandson) showed up on my doorstep with a plate of chocolate covered rice krispy treats and an invitation to come and pick me up for the ward activity scheduled for that Thursday. And a week later Brother Bayles told me he had been assigned as my hometeacher, and would it be alright if he came by that afternoon.

Soon without fail Bill and Ann would come once a month and sit and visit with me as my home teachers. I don't know if they have any idea how much I looked forward to and treasured their visits. While I was making friends and acquaintances all over town, they were two of the only people to come and visit me in my home during my first six or seven months in Blanding. I loved my little haven of an apartment, my home, that I worked so hard to keep clean and orderly and uplifting. I wanted to share it with people, but wasn't quite outgoing enough to invite people over. I loved sharing my home with them and looked forward to their visit every month, simple as it was.

But not only did the Bayles' come into my little bit of sacred space, they invited me to theirs regularly. Almost once a month they would invite me over for their Sunday dinner--either at their house, or Ann's mother's--Sister Martineau. I quickly learned why Ann loves Thanksgiving so much as the regular Sunday fare at their house included yams, mashed potatoes, stuffing, etc. It felt so comfortable to kneel and participate in the family prayer before the meal, to join in the dinner table conversation.

My favorite dinner at the Bayles' was the Sunday they had all their kids home for the weekend. With a full house already, I was surprised at the invitation to join them. Oh, but I wouldn't have missed it. Quickly I was mixed in with the crowd and included in the family jokes and playful bantering. After dinner we sat around the living room piano and sang--just as I love to do with my mom and sisters at home. The afternoon was made only better as we all sat down to watch Mrs. 'Arris Goes to Paris. I was quickly won over by the charm and comedy and good Sunday afternoon entertainment. I loved that they could all quote along with Mrs. 'Arris--evidence that it was a family classic.

I did not, however, fall in love with the Bayles family because of their sincere kindness and gerosity towards me when I needed them most, but more so because of they are, in the truest sense of the term, kindred spirits. Ann and I share a love of old movies, musicals, music, and good books. It was from her that I learned about Daddy Long Legs by jean Webster (if you like Anne Shirley, it's a given you'll like Judy). But who could help liking Ann? She is a-bubble with life--full of optimism and compliments for everyone around her. Both Bill and Ann are unpretentious, quick to laughter (it did take me a few months to learn what a jokester Brother Bayles is... but I think I love him even more because it slow to unveil itself). They are quick to be kind, thoughtful, open and easy going, and uninvasive.

Brother Bayles was also a much wanted priesthood presence in my home. He was always more than willing to serve, to teach, to pray. One particular Sunday I felt lost and out of sorts. It was shortly after the deaths of both my grandfathers. I had traveled home for both funerals, but was still really struggling with their loss and with feeling so far away from family. I felt overwhelmed as a teacher and unsure how to build more good relationships. I wasn't yet dating Jeremy and I was felt lost with that aspect of my life as well. At the close of their visit, I asked Brother Bayles to give me a blessing. The council and comfort given in that simple blessing changed the months ahead of me in Blanding. He blessed me that as I shared my testimony and love of the gospel, my love for the community would grow, and their love for me would grow in turn. A month later I was asked to speak in Stake Conference. I witnessed this blessing come true. As I prepared and shared my testimony in that talk, my love for the people of Blanding multiplied, and afterward I almost immediately felt an increased love and acceptance from countless people in the community.

I am so grateful I had a home teacher who was willing and able to give me taste of the good people in Blanding. They are two of the many people I hope to be friends with always. I wonder sometimes if they know just how much I love them. Oh how I love them!

Happy 3rd and 4th of July!

Raymond says good morning!

Well, much to our disappointment, our plans to go to Blanding for the 4th were waylaid by an unexpected car kerfuffle. So Friday brought no school, no work, and no car trip. We decided to begin the celebrations of the weekend by busting out the grill we had been given as a wedding present and never opened. Jeremy took the lead and put together some fabulous kabobs to go on that little grill...

Raymond and I waited patiently for them to grill (ps: is it just Cedar, or does every married couple in America have one of these little grills sitting outside their front door? We have finally joined the ranks).

The aftermath... My, it was tasty.

We are still not quite sure what we'll do to celebrate today (although we are all already dressed in red, white, or blue... or all three!). I want pancakes for breakfast (what is the 4th without a good pancake breakfast??). Jeremy and Raymond want to sleep the day away...I feel some sort of picnic is in order. Perhaps we'll make it Cedar's firework show tonight (if we can find out where and when it is... and if the wee one is up for it). If nothing else, I might make my little men sing some patriotic songs or something. If you are looking for fun 4th crafting to do with your kiddos... check out The Crafty Crow. She has scores of ideas for sweets, treats, and games galore. Happy 4th of July!