Blockheads

by Shirley Bahlmann
It was a year and a half ago when I got the urge to contribute to the local city park so that my family's names could be sandblasted in bricks for ever and ever or until a meteor strike, whichever comes first. I know I won't get any blessings in heaven for having my name on my contribution. My Heavenly home may be a few bricks short. It took a looooong time for us to be firmly entrenched underfoot in the new park's sidewalk, but now I'm proud to announce that the Bahlmann's are officially a bunch of blockheads.

Save The Family

The song was written by Joy Lundberg and Janice Kapp Perry.

Our nation is only as strong as our families. We must do our best to strengthen our families.

Mary Ann

by Shirley Bahlmann
One afternoon a beautiful dark-haired young lady was rolled into my booth by a tall, blond young man who turned out to be her brother. The young lady was Mary Ann. Her mother explained that a semi broadsided Mary Ann when she was driving with her cousin. Her cousin didn't survive. Mary Ann escaped with a bruise on her brain, which left her unable to walk.
"They gave her three hours to live," Mom added.
Mary Ann waved her hand to get my attention, then with slow speech, said, "Sil-ly do-c-tors don't know an-y-thing."
Her brother hovered protectively above her, watching our exchange. Her sister stood nearby, and her mother translated for her daughter, even though I understood everything Mary Ann said.
Later, I met Mary Ann's father. He's a writer who published his own book, and he shared a piece of poetry he wrote that inspired the book. He's got some interesting things going on, and is ready to pick up writing after spending so much time caring for Mary Ann during her recovery.
I was impressed with a family who seems to have turned tragedy to triumph. They helped me appreciate life as it is given, and it was a pleasure to meet them.
Shine on, Mary Ann.

Tiny Tess

The newest addition to our family, my little niece Tess, was born on Tuesday at 2:30 in the morning. Refusing to conform to the norm, she came in an unlikely manner. I received a call from my older sister Kelly out in Pennsylvania at about 4:30 in the morning on my cell phone. I attempted to ignore it on the first ring. However, on the second call I managed to pull myself out of bed and answer. I assumed that it was one of my sister's children, unaware that there is a two hour time change between there and Utah.
Instead my sister told me that little Tess had been born at home a whopping two and a half months early. My brother-in-law had delivered her before they were even able to call 911. An ambulance was called after the fact, and Tess and her mother were whisked away to the hospital. Imagine our surprise. I immediately threw on my clothes and was out the door for the two hour drive up to Idaho. When I got there my brother was already there. Half an hour later, my sister Jennifer came. My sister Ashley had been staying with Jessica to help her during a particularly difficult pregnancy and was taking care of Jessica's two other girls when I got there.
It is amazing to me what an inspired unit the family is. I can't name how many times they have helped me through scrapes, encouraged me to follow my dreams, and have shared my happy times with me. But I felt such pride as we all came together during this minor disaster. I got to see tiny Tess, how small, how fragile, at just a little over three pounds, and I knew that she had come to the right place, welcomed by a family that loves her.

A Family Calling

Carlene Duda
I am not trying to brag, however my husband and I have the best Calling in the Church. Every 2nd Saturday night of the month we get home from our calling usually around midnight. Our ears are ringing, feet swollen and head swimming from too much sugar.
We were called last December to be the Stake Youth Dance Coordinators. At first our reaction was, "is that really a calling?" We had one dance of on-the-job training and given an external hard drive of more than 17,000 songs and off we went.
Scott, my husband is the DJ. Ryan, 19 is in charge of equipment set up and song editing. Kyle, 17 and Carson 14, are told who to dance with by their mother who keeps an eye out from the stage of girls who are not being asked to dance. (At first they hated it, but they are good about it now, and a promise of cinnamon rolls for breakfast on Sunday morning. Oh, the recipe is in my book, Beyond Oatmeal) Sierra 12, is in charge of keeping the DJ and his assistants supplied with refreshments, and looking up approved song requests. I approve song lyrics and skirt lengths.
We are fortunate that Scott's job provides him with Satellite Internet on his lap top. This allows us to be connected to song lyric sites so we can read the words to any song the dancers request. Any request can be approved or disapproved in minutes.
We have brought the dances to a new level and the attendance is up. This calling has been a wonderful experience for our whole family. We are grateful for the time we get to spend together as a family and a great team. The best part has been teaching our children the value of good music. Not only about the words but also the context. Actually the best part is that the youth know the DJ always asks his wife to dance a wonderfully romantic slow song on the dance floor with them. We have great youth in this church. This is a calling making family memories.

It's Never Too Late to Love

By Randal S. Chase

Last conference weekend after the first two sessions I received a call from my oldest sister. She is in her 70s and has not been active in the Church since she left home in her early 20s. She's had a difficult life and has never quite reconciled herself to all that she had to face in our small town from people who should have known better.

When Debbie and I first moved to St. George, we found ourselves within an hour's drive of this sister, who I've had very little interchange with over the years--mostly by her choice. I did some pondering about what my duty might be toward her. And while doing so, I had a sort of communion with my deceased father. "I really can't relate to her," I said, "and I don't think she'll be receptive to any effort I make to reach out to her."

I have a wayward daughter of my own, who I pray for daily that somebody will reach out to her. She lives many miles from us and we seldom get to see her. "Would you give up on your (daughter's name)?" my father asked. "No, of course I wouldn't," said I. "Well," said my father, "just remember that (sister's name) is my daughter too, and I need you to reach out to her."

I did. We've spent much time with her, loving unconditionally and helping her through a number of crises, including the death of her husband about 1.5 years ago. I recently gave her a copy of my first book, and wrote a note above my signature. "I hope to see that day when you are sealed to your sweetheart in the temple." That clicked. She started asking questions and sharing her disappointments with me. Slowly, but surely, she was coming around.

Then last weekend, late Saturday evening, I got the call. "I've been crying all day," she said. "I can't stop crying. I've been so touched by conference, and I've never felt like this before." "You know what that feeling is, I presume," I said. "No, I don't. What is it?" "It's the Holy Ghost bearing witness to you that what you've heard is true," I said. And we talked about testimonies. It was the first time in her life that she had understood these concepts.

"Thank you," she said. "I love you." As I hung up the phone, I felt a sense of purpose in moving to Southern Utah that far surpasses any other reason we had once imagined. And I thought, "It's never too late to reach out to those we love." We can't be pushy, and we must always give unconditional love. But if we do, great miracles can occur in their lives. They certainly have in hers.

Unexpected Reunion

Shirley Bahlmann
If you love your family or have ever wanted something very badly, you might be able to sympathize with how I felt when I realized I couldn't go see my new grandson in January because the roads between Utah and Colorado were too snowy. I thought it would be summer before I ever got to meet the little feller.
But then, last week when I was visiting family in southern Utah, we got a call from our Colorado kids. They were making an unexpected trip to Utah for a beloved friend's family funeral. They agreed on a detour to St. George. So for the first time in a long time, we had all our immediate family together, and I got a smile from that cute grandson, who now is truly cute because at four months old, he's past the squishy stage.
I just wanted to remind you that happily ever afters don't just happen in books. Yours may be just ahead of you, only moments away.
Sweet dreams.

Spontaneous Acts of Service

By Sidne O'Reilly - The Twelve Week Challenge

Spontaneous Acts of Service are part of the 12 Week Challenge. Saturday I had a lovely demonstration of that in my own family.

I am blessed to have 4 of my 6 children living in the same city I live in. We all moved to Utah within a year of each other. Some of us moved from Arizona and Nevada. One daughter joined us from New Mexico. What a delight to have so many loved ones nearby. Since we all moved here we started a tradition of gathering to celebrate birthdays once a month. We thought for sure that by this time of year we could easily meet in the park and it would be fine. (There are 30+ of us altogether which makes quit a houseful.) The sun was shining overhead. It looked like it might be a perfect day. I had worn a long-sleeved sweatshirt, (my favorite with an embroidered message of “Grand kids, pieces of the heart.”), thinking that it turned a little cool I would be fine. What I didn’t factor in was the wind-chill. It was freezing! Even as I sat there cuddled up with a sweet Grandbaby swaddled in blankets, I froze. One of my daughters in law, Denise, saw my predicament and despite my protests had her daughter get another baby blanket out of the car to put around my shoulders. How grateful I was. The blanket didn’t just warm me on the outside, but warmed my heart as well. She is such a great example of spontaneous service.

Young mothers are sometimes a little overwhelmed with family responsibilities. Lessons at church on serving others can seem overwhelming it’s true. But what we don’t want to loose sight of are the small opportunities to serve another. They are all around us. A spontaneous act of service can be as small as a smile. All we have to do is be conscious of those around us as Denise was. The funny thing about service is that I’ll bet in some way Denise’s consideration for me warmed her too.
What small act of service can you do today? I’m cheering for you, Sidne

The Volkwagon Summer

A tinny honk interrupted Alfalfa as he and Spanky were dragging a red wagon down the sidewalk. Annoyed I stood up, walked to the television set, and turned off the rerun of "Little Rascals." I opened the screen door and stepped out into the bright summer sun, feeling the hot concrete burn my barefeet as I tiptoed out to the driveway. Sitting in the driveway was a huge orange and white loaf of bread. At least that is what it looked like to me. In reality it was our family's new car, a 1976 Volkswagen Van. This was before VW vans were vintage and cool. It was just a six year old car that I didn't want to be caught dead in. My face flushed with sheer embarassment as my mom honked that tinny horn one more time, smiled her big toothy white smile.
"Climb aboard," she said as she adjusted her sunglasses in the rearview mirror.
My dad was sitting in the passenger seat, looking down into his lap, no doubt reading the instruction manual. I was sure there wasn't an instruction in there that could make a 15 year old girl disappear before
"You have got to be kidding," I said, "This is the ugliest car I have ever seen,"
"Oh come on. Just get in," dad said as he came around the side and opened the sliding door.
"But dad,"
"No buts, just get in,"
I stepped in and slid down on the seat to make sure my head was low enough so that nobody could see me through the window. My younger sister and brother were already in the van. My sister wore a purple visor and sunglasses and had her white box purse in her lap. My little brother sat on his knees and sucked his blue and yellow pacifier. His blonde, curly hair laid a a soft swirl against his suntanned forehead.
"Great" I said, as my mom shifted into reverse and backed out of the driveway. The van bounced as it moved through the neighborhood streets, the blue and white checked curtains swaying to their own beat. My mom then pushed in the eight-track tape and the Carpenter's serenaded us onto the main highway. I sunk lower into my seat, mortified that my parents, who weren't even close to being hippies would bring such a monstrosity home.

...stay posted to Kimberly Jensen's blog for more on "Volkswagon Summer"

I Bought My Wife Flowers With a Smile!

I am not one to buy flowers, because they just die. Today at lunch I went to the store by work and had some flowers sent to my wife’s work. After spending a lot of money on them, I left the store with a smile on my face. Usually when I spend a lot of money on anything I am not smiling.

Three days before Christmas a pipe broke on our top floor and we now have a huge hole where the ceiling used to be. To date, we have still not had this repaired, which makes my wife insane. Our water softener has also not worked since late December, one more thing on my honey-do list.

We have had a tough few months. Since the new year, Tawna has had her tonsils out, and didn’t recover well. I started my new job at Cedar Fort Inc. two days after her surgery and was unable to care for her postoperatively. In November, I had bought her 5th row tickets to see Brad Paisley for her birthday, which was the week after her tonsillectomy. She had assured me she would be fine to go to the concert. The day of the concert, my wife spent the day in the hospital having IV's to rehydrate her. She had been unable to eat or drink anything since the surgery eight days prior. We gave the tickets to our daughter and son-in-law and they reported back that it was the best show they had ever seen. Not such good news for my lovely wife!

I had been kind enough to take her car in and have it inspected so we could get the registration done on it. On the way out of the driveway I backed out and crashed it into my son's friend's car, leaving the rear fender and tail light smashed. No damage was done to my son's friend's truck.

Since my wife's surgery had left us unable to celebrate either her birthday or our first wedding anniversary, for my birthday last week, she planned a secret surprise relaxation getaway weekend. We left Saturday morning and enjoyed a one and a half hour massage together. Her choice, believe me! We went to lunch, shopped, went to a couple of movies and spent the night at a charming bed and breakfast (which was a little freaky for me, but I indulged her). The next morning, we had a leisurely brunch and then returned home to change clothes and get ready for the "surprise" birthday dinner that she had planned for me with all of my children. When we returned home, we were met with a "not so pleasant" odor filling our home. After further investigation, we discovered that our refrigerator and freezer (which is only 13 months old) had ceased working, most likely since late the previous week. Our entire fresh food supply was ruined. My wife had gone to the butcher shop just the weekend before and purchased nearly $200 in meat which was now oozing over all of the rest of the frozen food. Note--Ice cream does not stay in the carton when not frozen! We then went downstairs to check on my mother who lives in our basement. When I walked in I found her talking on her remote control, completely incoherant. She couldn’t get anyone to answer it. Needless to say, my surprise birthday dinner ended up being an even more surprising trip to the emergency room until 2:00 a.m. Happy Birthday to me!!

My mother was diagnosed with pneumonia and spent eight fun-filled days in the local hospital, most of which not knowing who or where she was. We picked her up Monday night after work and returned her to her home (after spending the weekend cleaning her house and laundering every piece of linen in the house). We fed her dinner and got her settled and ready for bed in her clean sheets and blankets. We prepared her oxygen and her CPAP machine and laid out her bed clothes. We went upstairs for the last time about 10:00 p.m. At about 10:30 we heard her up letting her dogs out. In the morning when my wife leaves for work, she lets our dogs downstairs to play for the day. I called my mom to see if she was ready for the dogs and got no answer. My wife went downstairs and found my mom on the floor where she had spend most of the night apparently. My wife got her cleaned up and moved into her bed, fed her and gave her the daily prescribed medications and left for work, making sure she had both the cell phone and the house phone within reach. I tried calling her throughout the day, but got no answer. I assumed the worst. When I returned home from work, it was apparent that she was still not well. She was too weak to stand and had been unable to get up all day. As I called the paramedics for assistance, my wife cheerfully cleaned my mom up, changed her clothes and got her ready to return to the hospital.
We again spent the evening in the emergency room waiting for them to re-admit her with unresolved pneumonia.

On Monday morning, before my mom's release from the hospital, my 15 year old decided that he would rather move back to his mother's house than get up for school in the morning. As you may guess this was quite upsetting to me. He has lived with my wife and me since we were married a year ago. I can honestly say, I have never been that upset or angry with any of my children.

As if that tale of woe was not sufficient enough, our garage door is malfunctioning and the check engine light is bright yellow on both of our cars. Good times!!

I thank my lucky stars I have a wonderful wife to buy flowers for!!!