The Mountains

This week my parents are off camping in the High Sierra Mountains of California. My grandparents started this tradition when my father was a baby. My father introduced my mom to this adventure when she was a young bride. I have many happy memories of roughing it with my siblings and cousins for a week or longer every summer of my growing up years. When I was married I took my husband and children as they came along. It has been a family tradition for over 75 years.

I grew up thinking my cousins were siblings and knowing I could rely on my aunts and uncles for direction and love, all because of the close bonds that were formed from these family vacations.

I can call it a vacation, because for the most part I was a child enjoying the fun of it all, when in reality it was hard work for my parents and grandparents. We packed it all in--tents, food, stoves, fuel, tables, chairs--everything we would need for the stay. Once we were in we stayed until it was time to leave. It gets cold in the High Sierra's and it is dirty there. Hard work for the parents of little children. But the memories, incredible.

When my husbands job moved us away from the west coast our opportunities to go camping with the extended family became few and far between, but during this week each year my heart travels with my family across the Southern California desert, up past Bishop and into Mammoth and then down the side of the mountain to Agnew Meadows where we have pitched tents and camped every year for decades.

I long to get up early and help cut the cantaloupe and cook the ham, eggs and pancakes for the 40 or so that will be gathered for breakfast each morning before heading off to hike and fish for the day. I think of the women that stay in camp enjoying a quiet reading moment and the puzzle and card games that are happening. I have vivid memories of my grandmother cooking good and simple food for her large family to fill us up at the end of a wonderful day. I enjoyed watching my teen and 20 year old sons take their turns with the ax and the logs for the nightly fire.

I am hoping that soon my husband will retire and we can take a trip out west and join the family reunion another time or two with my parents, aunts and uncles, siblings and cousins. We have made an effort to continue the tradition of camping and family get togethers with our children and grand children, but in my mind, camping as a family group in the High Sierras is the high standard to meet.

Family, hard work that is well worth the effort.

Church Bells

I am in Germany enjoying the 5 grandchildren who live here. The youngest two like to sit in the wonderful double stroller my daughter has while I walk them around the neighborhood. The other day we were walking and I could hear the church bells ringing. Thy rang louder and louder for about 10 minutes. The girls and I were making up words to go with the ringing--

Church bells ringing
Hear us singing
Everyone gather
Time for prayer


The next morning as we were out walking, again we heard the bells ringing, calling everyone to come to the church and worship.

When I was a girl living in Yucaipa, California there was a church in town that would ring the bells every day. It was a beautiful sound that brought comfort.

The other day when we went to pick strawberries, the neighborhood church bells started ringing. The bells played songs for about 15 minutes. It was lovely and soon I found myself singing along with the hymns the bells were pealing off.

The bells here in Germany were not playing songs, just ringing and ringing, hoping some of us would stop what we were doing and think of spiritual things for a few moments. Later I found that it was a holiday--Ascension Day.

As I thought about all of the turmoil that the city of Berlin has suffered in just my lifetime, and then thought about the meaning of the holiday as I listened to the church bells, I was filled with awe.

How often do we stop what we are doing and listen for that spiritual awareness. Most often it is not bells ringing, but a still small voice telling us to call a friend, send a note or bake and take something delicious to an acquaintance. In order to hear the call it is best to be quiet for a moment and look out from yourself. Wait a moment--you will hear--it is soft and quiet, gentle and still...a quiet call to action..

Mom

I am lucky to have a wonderful mother.

She was just 18 when I was born so we sort of grew up together.

I remember as a little girl sitting on the bed watching my mother brush and style her long dark hair. I was mesmerized by her beautiful hair. Unfortunately she had 3 children in quick sucession and the hair was one too many things to take care of, so she cut it off and wore it short for the next 50+ years. Now as a great grandmother she is letting it grow again.

She taught me many things over the years that I recall on a daily basis:

Lesson number one was to trust in the Lord. She taught her four children to pray and took us to church. She served in her callings with her best ability and attended the temple. She supported my father in what ever calling he had and helped us take care of our church responsibilities. She made treats for Family Home Evening and encouraged us to be prayerful in our choices.

Lesson number two was to be a good wife. My father was always my mother's first concern. She supported him as the head of our home. She worked by his side in all of the remodeling and building tasks that came up. When he suggested a ride together, she grabbed a diaper for the baby, loaded us up and away we went, laughing and smiling, with thoughts of an ice cream treat for a reward.

Lesson number three was that family and traditions are important. I remember mama loading us up in the car and driving us to downtown Los Angeles to visit my great grandmother. I remember being sent on a walk to the mail box to send a post card mama had written to her grandmother. Mom worked tirelessly to make gifts and prepare a meal for the entire extended family each Christmas. She spent family vacation camping with her in-laws every year, hauling everything needed to keep 4 little ones clean and dry.

Lesson number 4 was that hard work is good. She would work by our sides as we learned to cook and clean. She encouraged us as we pulled weeds in the yard. Her chore box was memorable, and the reward of a trip to the mall on a Saturday afternoon helped us work a little faster. From her I learned that a house needs to be clean enough to be healthy and messy enough for the family be creative.

My mom is very creative. This year she knitted a scarf and stylish hat for all of her daughters, grand daughters and nieces. She is magic in her sewing room. Her home is a beautiful reflection of the creative thoughts that whirl through her head. She is meticulous in her work and has won blue ribbons for her perfection.

Sometimes it takes a few life experiences to appreciate your own wonderful mother. I have been richly blessed and my mother is at the top of my blessing list. She loved me through the trying years, encouraged me through the rough years, she continues to teach through the growing years.

It was mom's birthday last week--she turned 75. She was noticing some signs of aging. I reminded her that our family lives long and healthy and that we have at least 20 more years to go. May they be happy and productive years.

Happy Birthday Mom. I love you.

Beauty Classes

When I was young, my mother told me I was beautiful. I felt gangling and uncertain like teenagers do, but Mama knew me well and helped me get set up in a program that encouraged and taught lessons on personal grooming, charm and manners.

There were quite a few girls in my beauty class, most of us were seniors at the local high school. We learned how to sit, walk and talk during our classes. We all lived in the town of Yucaipa, California and the year was 1972.

Now that it is 2011, it has been almost 40 years since those days. I still remember quite a few things I learned. One lesson that I still use daily is that a pumice stone keeps your feet and other easily calloused areas soft. Another lesson that I think about regularly is how to sit on a chair, when wearing a dress, so you don't flash the world. They taught us how to converse with people you have never met before and how to be kind and gracious, even in disappointment. I was quite tall so I remember practicing how to walk in heels so I could be graceful. I remember being taught that a smile makes everyone feel more comfortable and it is an expression that should be worn most often.

I took these classes for a few months, from February until April, when we had a pageant at the school gym to show what we had learned. I won the highest honors at that pageant and it helped give me confidence that I still rely on to this day. Three years later my sister also signed up for the program and did quite well, too.

I'll always be grateful for my mother who could see me for more than I could. When we were discussing the opportunity I remember mom telling me that by signing up for the classes I would learn things that would help me throughout my life and that when I was a young mother or mature woman I would look back on that time with appreciation and satisfaction--and she was right. It was an experience that changed my life for good.

Thanks Mom.

My Little Brother

His name is Bradley Lewis Kidman born March 15 when I was in 2nd grade. Lewis is after my grandfather, Lewis Rudolph Kidman.

Brad and I had a lot of fun together walking up the Blvd in Yucaipa--going to the Chocolate store to get the boo boos--YUM

He liked to 'read' to me until we realized he was dyslexic and just had all of the books memorized.

Brad is a hard worker. He works with his hands. He has built a car and house from scratch.

Brad served his mission in North Carolina--Charlotte.

He works for the town of Enoch, Utah. Among other things he drives the trash truck. My kids always thought the trash man was a returning hero who came to visit every week. When I visit my parents it is exciting when it is trash day cuz Brad stops to say hi.

Poor kid missed his birthday in 1973 because I got married on the 16th. Thank you Brad for sacrificing for me. Love you.

Happy Birthday

A TRIP WORTH TAKING

Yesterday I drove from Cary to Charlotte.

After a few trips down I-85 fighting the traffic for over 3 hours we knew we needed to find a new way to go if we were to ever visit our daughter and her family again after they moved.

Now we take the scenic route--down the road less traveled. There are a few stop signs, and for a stretch, just one lane in each direction, but boy, the sights are wonderful. The pace is slower, yet the outcome is less than a 3 hour drive. Win/Win

As we go along there are beautiful homes that we pass in Rockingham and Monroe. Large gorgeous homes that make you think of what life was like when these now sleepy towns were wide awake.

I grew up in a house that was 100 years old. It had 6 bedrooms and 3 baths as well as 12 layers of wallpaper that needed to be stripped off. There were the 4 kids with mom and dad and lots of fun memories that lived in that house. It was located in the sleepy town of Yucaipa, California. There were 4 stop signs up the boulevard. It was a wonderful place to grow up.

I guess part of the draw to drive down the road less traveled is the opportunity to think and remember what life was like when I was young.

Yet....

I truly enjoy living my life today. I love the wonderful town I live in. I love the twists and turns my life has taken, some have been difficult road blocks to get around, but still--LIFE is GOOD. I think the opportunity to be a wife, mother and grandmother as well as the daughter and sister I always was has stretched and enriched me.

I like taking the road less traveled with it's slow pace and breath taking views. Some would think it boring, I find it inspiring. The best part of the drive is the sweet smiles, excited laughter and hugs from the grand kids.

I have discovered that no matter whether the drive is 7 miles or 12 hours--

Grandchildren are a destination worth driving toward.