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Mother’s Day: Timeless Gratitude for Life
As I walked sleepily this morning into the kitchen for Mother’s Day, my ten year old son stretched his arm high into the air and pulled the trigger on his new confetti gun. “Happy Mother’s Day!” A plethora of sparkly colors spun through the air as he handed me a huge box of gourmet cookies. I feel so loved, as my children adorn my cheeks with kisses and handmade cards. At 37 years old, I am a mother to four beautiful children. I am a daughter to an amazing, stalwart and faithful woman. I am a granddaughter to Joy, whom I miss, I send messages of hello to heaven regularly. This is a full and robust moment in my life, a time where laundry will never be done, food is always almost gone from my fridge (I can’t believe how much my kids eat!) and time is my most precious commodity. I vacillate between feeling inadequate to accomplish the day’s tasks, and yearning to learn and do more. In tribute to my own mother, and the women in my life who have nurtured and inspired my growth, I say, “Thank you!!” Motherhood, on some days means waking wearily in the middle of the night to discover a child without a blanket covering their bare legs. Sometimes, Motherhood is the imploring to a child to PLEASE, PLEASE go to sleep. Fatigue and work have worn my tired and frazzled senses to the point of begging. Motherhood can often be the finest dinner, prepared with ease and time, or the grappling attempt at throwing a concoction of food together based on what is in the cupboard at the time. Recently my oldest daughter paid my a high compliment. She said, “Mom! I look in the fridge and there is nothing to eat. And then you pull together an amazing dinner! Thank you!” (That made my year.) Motherhood can sometimes be heavy, when a child’s friends have abandoned your sweet little one, and all you can do is lend a listening ear as you wipe her tears and frustrations away. Motherhood tests your resolve to find a patient and kind way to encourage a child to be kind, courageous, determined and content in a variety of manners, despite my own mood, amount of time available, and the adequate (or inadequate) number of hours slept the previous night. Motherhood is magical, as I watch the spark in my 2 year old’s eyes as I enter into the room. It doesn’t matter that I have been with him every day of his life, or that it has only been 2 hours since our last greeting, his whole person lights up at the sight of my face, and he is running toward me to gather a kiss, a touch, and a smiling embrace. Motherhood is baking cookies with a sweet moment of teaching and guiding through the family’s chocolate chip cookie recipe. Motherhood often feels insurmountable, and the impossible mission of completing chores, homework, work, cleaning, tutoring, talking and supporting, not to mention the supernal goal of nurturing a young incompetent human to grow into a well rounded, respectful, contributing member of society. And yet, if I have given my best effort, at the end of the day, if something is forgotten, or broken;...
read moreMany happy greetings from the Johnsons
This time will be just a moment, and then, like a flash, it will be gone. 13 years ago Jonny and I were proud new parents to our first baby, Anna. She was just barely over 5 pounds when we brought her home from the hospital. We were so excited about wrapping her gifts, and beginning our own family traditions. As it turns out, she slept through that first Christmas morning, bundled in a blanket on the couch, sucking on her giant green saucer binkie. Since that time, in what seems like a lifetime ago, we have experienced sleepless nights, potty training, the growth of our family from just two to now six, different homes, finishing school, starting new jobs, and the inception and growth of our own business. I sometimes reflect on my life and wonder how we got here. I’m just amazed. Life is full of adventure! What I want to remember most about this year are the quiet moments cuddling with my kids, cold winter mornings when we turn on the fire, our first snow storm with over 12” of powder! I want to remember Ben sucking on his left ring and middle fingers when he is sleepy, and his obsession with baseball hats and small toy cars; Ally sneaking into the baking drawer to find some Ghirardelli milk chocolate chips, and giggling under her bed covers when she is supposed to be sleeping. I want to remember the relief of seeing my daughter excel at a test, after a challenging assignments rocked her confidence. I want to look back at the entrepreneurial dreams of a nine year old little boy who wants to be an engineer and a baker, and who happens to sing like an angel. I want to remember what it feels to envision a possibility before the creation begins. I want to remember what it feels like to connect to my family, both of the living and the dead; to cherish the relationships that are born out of tragedy, including the joy of connecting with my long time estranged father’s family. I want to ennoble my children to live in faith, despite the world screaming at them to succumb to fear. I want to remember the smell of fresh tomato plants yielding their fruit in the warm early autumn sun, and the succulent fruits of our peach tree. I want to remember welcoming new family members through marriage, and the happiness of uniting love and promise. When I was young, my Grandma Joy would always say, “It’s going to be all right.” For a long time, I always felt deflated when her optimism didn’t succumb to my drama. As a child, it was my hankering for a stolen toy, as a teenager it was the challenge of navigating boys, later on it was the reassurance of faith after loosing my father and grandfather to death. The anthem of my Grandma is now not just a memory, but a life motto. With every fiber of my being I now know, and teach my children that, “It will be all right.” With faith in Jesus Christ, armored with the testimony of salvation, whatever we face, the outcome will be for our good. We are children of God, miniature creators, designed and tutored to become...
read moreLDS Policy Change: I was born of a gay father and faithful LDS mother.
I was born of a gay father and faithful LDS mother. The great storms of identity development and security were rocked as I learned that my dad died from AIDS when I was just ten. He left the church right after my birth and lived a homosexual life in New York City. I remember confiding in a just a few friends the real origin of my dad’s death, there were layers of shame and fear and loss and sadness. I didn’t feel safe enough to be vulnerable to everyone, but there were a few golden friends who were my lifeline during some hard years. Life moved on and I grew up. It wasn’t until I was married with my own family that I appreciated the vast pain and betrayal that my mother must have felt. It wasn’t until I saw my sweet husband father our children that the profound pain of missing my own father was realized. What I know with every fiber of my being is that Jesus Christ is my Savior. I have felt his love and healing balm on my broken heart. He is infinite and wise. He has already absorbed the pain, the hurt, and the challenges of my life. My heart is forever anchored to him. Two, Trevor Southey taught me a sweet lesson, “There is bad in the best of us and good in the worst of us, the best we can do is to not judge one another.” And, “the most important religion of our times is that of kindness.” Third, I sustain our prophet Thomas S. Monson. He was s good friend of my grandma Joy’s. One by one he took each one of her great grandchildren at her funeral on his knee for a hand shake and a photo. He is a servant of God, a wise and kind man. Many of God’s followers have been required a heavy toll of faith. I do not believe that the trial of our faith will be rewarded with a meager offering, we are asked to bring a broken heart and a contrite spirit. For many in the church, there is no sacrifice for obedience and faith in following the new policies. For others today there is a heavy price. I empathize and pray for/ with you. Let us show a little more kindness, to the teen struggling with SSA, to the wife/husband whose marriage just died, to the children who aren’t sure what all this means, to the faithful followers, to the leaders of the LGBT community, and to the leaders of the church. There are no simple answers for a struggle that is so profoundly contradicting. The only answer for me is to show more kindness. Grandma Joy was kneeling in the flower bed, crying more than weeding. My mom – her daughter’s marriage was falling apart because, in part, my dad was gay. My dad came and gave her a hug. With a phrase that is notoriously Grandma she said, “It is all going to be alright.” And it...
read moreThe Last Harvest
Today before work I went outside into my garden. The harvest season is drawing to a close, but not before a colorful display of opulence in the form of fruit; yellow bell cherry tomatoes; red, yellow and green sweet peppers both big and baby sized; dozens and dozens of pumpkins donning white, orange and fiery auburn red skins; hot peppers including giant jalapenos, something red – I don’t know its name, and banana peppers. I carried my pink plastic basket around with me, my toddler at my heels, “Mamma!” He was requested a turn on the swing, “Mamma!” He wanted to play in the sandbox. “Mamma!!” “OOON, EEEEW, EEEEEEE!” (1, 2, 3!) His little legs start running down the backyard grass hill, “OOOOOh!” (Gooooo!) He wanders as his discovers the world of play. I continue to gather, to carry, to feel the blessing of harvesting. It is now the beginning of October. Temperatures have begun to drop, although most days are absolutely delightful! The peppers are finished, and so I begin to pull the plants from the earth, that provided so much nourishment all season long. The melon plants, too are finished producing. I gather the long tendril vines and bunch them on the hill closest to the fence surrounding the south side of our home. All of whats left will be transformed into next year’s crop through composting at the city landfill. In the world, it too is harvest time. The season of mankind has enjoyed time on earth. From the time of ancient father Adam, until now. Seeds of family have been planted, nourished, grown and harvested. Generations upon generations have lived and loved on this earth. There have been great storms of tyranny and lustful power, there have been seasons of great sickness and death. Here we are, in America, after have lived through a great season of prosperity and peace. Unfortunately, the pride of ease has swept into our belief of self fulfillment, when in actuality all blessing flow from our Creator. The time of universal harvest is upon us; whether it be a week, a year, or a decade, the time is now to prepare. Judgement is coming. Collectively there is a great shift away from God. I can feel it in every fiber of my being. Our country’s leadership does not stand on the foundation of faith, of which the forefathers built this great nation, with God’s omnipotent direction and guidance. There is mockery of life with widespread support and practice of abortion, there is criticism of protection and even talk of changes to the 2nd amendment of the Constitution, to disallow personal firearms. Add that to the list of adultery, pornography, rising debt, growing entitlement programs, strengthened insurgence in international political landscapes, wars, rumors of war. To top that off, just last week there was a public attack at a Christian College, an armed man shot and killed 9 students. He asked each person before he fired what religion they were, if they were Christian he shot them in the head, if they weren’t, he shot them in the legs. The mass media didn’t care, they didn’t share that fact, they are just supporting Obama’s call for widespread gun control. At the core, I don’t know who America is anymore. Jesus...
read moreUnwanted Pregnancies: Abortion is the Wrong Solution
Did you know that……. at 8 weeks in utero, a fetus’ major functions are all developed, including their heart, brain, lungs and nervous system. I have even recently learned that they already have a finger print! When an in utero procedure needs to be done, even at that young age, fetuses are shown, by ultra-sound, to recoil from needles that collect blood. Why on earth would they not feel pain? We do. They are us. Of course they can feel pain. “If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, I can again thy former light restore, Should I repent me: but once put out thy light, Thou cunning’st pattern of excelling nature, I know not where is that Promethean heat That can thy light relume. When I have pluck’d the rose, I cannot give it vital growth again, It must needs wither:” – Othello, Act V Scene II Another testament to the profit river of blood. The world headlines continue to make me physically and spiritually ill. Another Planned Parenthood video was released this week. I believe that makes 6 in all. In the videos actors have set up Planned Parenthood executives to believe that they are buyers of human tissue for research purposes. The executives are caught describing their for-profit methods for extracting intact organs, tissue and other material to sell to research facilities nationwide. They are also shown casually sifting through body parts, and the one video even reveals the sound of a cracking baby skull. One effort has run through Congress to defund the government’s $540.6 million dollars annual subsidy to Planned Parenthood, which was received as a dismal failure. Planned Parenthood claims that they are breaking no law. While it is illegal to make a profit on the sale of human infant tissue after an abortion, it is not illegal to provide this tissue to another vendor for research, with a small shipping and handling fee, which is negotiable. There are two arguments by pro-choices and supporters of Planned Parenthood for their services; first, is that tissue, i.e. the organs of murdered babies, is most effective for “life saving medical research” of diseases that effect our modern world, including but not limited to Alzheimers, AIDS, cancer, ALS, and more. The second, is that Planned Parenthood provides women, especially those in poverty with contraception, and female medical services that they would otherwise not have access to. Let’s delve into the first argument about scientific research. The Deseret News released an article this week that outlines pretty thoroughly both sides of the issue. “University laboratories that buy such cells strongly defend their research, saying tissue that would otherwise be thrown out has played a vital role in lifesaving medical advances and holds great potential for further breakthroughs. Fetal cells are considered ideal because they divide rapidly, adapt to new environments easily and are less susceptible to rejection than adult cells when transplanted. If researchers are unable to work with fetal tissue, there is a huge list of diseases for which researchers would move much more slowly, rather than quickly, to find their cause and how they can be cured,” Stanford University spokeswoman Lisa Lapin said in an email… Researchers use fetal tissue to understand cell biology and human development. Others use it to look for treatments for AIDS. Research on...
read moreLegacy of Faith, My Pioneer Heritage
There are many ancestors… generations upon generations who have come before me. Today is a day of reflection. Looking in the mirror I see my Grandma Cannon’s blue eyes. I see my mom’s callick in my brown hair. I feel the fervor of faith gifted from my Grandma Joy. The the golden embers of Italian skin after an afternoon bathing under the golden sun, which comes from my paternal Grandpa Rizzo who immigrated to New York City from Sicily in the early 1900s. I feel the rumble of persistence and belief in others from Grandpa David, whose life’s work encouraged excellence in invention by his own pioneering spirit in the field of computer science. I light up at the opportunity to splash paint, to snap a photo, or record fleeting poetic pros as my father did with his own artistic expression. I long for and strive for peace, a characteristic garnered by ever patient and kind mother. There are countless others before me, whose songs I do not know, and whose eyes I have not seen, but whose influence have been passed from generation to generation through seeds of thoughts, actions, and words. Today I would like to pay tribute to the pioneers in my own heritage, those who crossed the wild plains of our great American continent, as well to the pioneers who forged new thoughts, new courage and new standards for excellence for myself and my posterity to follow. To die in a great moment of battle requires great courage, especially in the light of attacking enemies. However, the daily battle of life also requires fortitude to carry on! To work in the face of tedium, to solve problems in the opportunities of despair, to love day after day through kindness in word, deed and thought. Those ancestors who stuck through a challenge, who garnered a solution, and who fought valiantly for the cause of truth, those are ones I honor today. My own mother, Gayle Gable and my step dad Clark have served four LDS missions as a senior couple, most recently to the Omaho, Nebraska mission in the Winter Quarters Visitor Center, along with the small temple there and the Kaynsville Tabernacle. Last summer we had the opportunity to visit with our small brood. While the modern day city of Omaha is bustling with crowds, business and commerce, the history there starts with the pioneers. It was their fleeing from Nauvoo, and subsequent winter encampment which planted the roots of what we see today. In down town Omaha a new Bronze statue collection was erected just a few years ago that pays tribute to the great pioneers who lived and passed through Omaha. This artistic masterpiece spans through several city blocks, including a herd of run away buffalo, and sprawling birds. My mom, Gayle, shared some thought about our shared pioneer ancestors in her returning remarks this past year at her homecoming, which are included below. “On the wall at the Kanesville Tabernacle is a quotation from the book of Luke which says, “…Lo, we have left all, and followed thee.” Luke 18:28. “This is obviously the early apostles but it also describes the Mormon pioneers. Every time before now, they were persecuted and driven from their homes. They left Winter Quarters and...
read moreFor Our Time
This week has been monumental and historic. Here is just a taste of this national and international news stories: Planned Parenthood executive is recorded to be selling the remains of human babies for the highest bidder. The United States, along with many other world leaders lifted its sanctions on Iran in a deal to prevent the longtime known terrorist country to making nuclear weapons. Israel’s Prime Minister Netanyahu has been quoted as saying that the Iran deal is a ‘stunning historic mistake.’ Greece narrowly escapes imminent financial ruin with a European union of countries signing a last minute bailout. My heart is heavy listening to the world’s problems, with decisions and destinies transformed by government leaders, not by my own book club or Sunday night family get together attendees. Sin, pride, greed, fear, lust…. they are all forging into the hearts of mankind. God does not ask for me to change the world, but to soften my heart. God does not request that I step up to the plate for the democracy of my country, he simply asks for me to love my neighbor. God does not need me to succor the babies of the world, just to welcome, care for, and nurture my own. And yet, collectively, if we do not do as we are asked, the fabric of our culture unravels, dissipates, rots with filthy, vile lucre. There are great evils lurking in the shadows, and in closed door meetings. There are covenants being made to protect the brotherhood of deceit, of gain and of lies. Corruption abounds in powerful places. It is not my family they seek to protect, our liberties and freedoms, but that of the great adversary, even Lucifer. The laws of our land no longer reflect a fear of our Creator, but a love for lust, a commitment for passion, and reviling against natural consequences. Our economy’s fragile prosperity of a fictional bubble goes to the highest bidder on debt bailouts, and entitlement subsidies. So, what are we supposed to do? This summer our inspired Relief Society President has asked the sisters in our ward to flood our lives with the Book of Mormon, by participating in a reading challenge. My heart has swollen, filled with the spirit of the Lord, his love, his chastening, his warnings, as I have immersed my mornings in the pages of this sacred text. The Book of Mormon is another witness of Jesus Christ. Written by ancient American prophets, beginning with Nephi, and his family, Jacob, Mosiah, Alma, Helaman and more. The history tells of two Christian nations who dwelt upon our own promised land, the United States of America. Tragically because of a rise in wicked governmental power and subsequent hardening and corruption of the citizens in the land, both civilizations – the Nephites and Jaredites – were destroyed upon the face of the land. In light of today’s headlines, these echoes of the past are haunting. How did they know? 3 Nephi 7 2 And the people were divided one against another; and they did separate one from another into tribes, every man according to his family and his kindred and friends; and thus they did destroy the government of the land. In today’s political landscape houses are sharply divided, Democrats vs. Republicans...
read moreLove, Daddy
Today my brother and I sat around his kitchen table, scattered about in piles of old papers. As I perused the documents, dating back to the early 1950s, a chalky dust covered my fingers. We sifted through hand written letters, school report cards, government request letters and divorce decrees. We read through condolence messages and funeral programs. The weight of choices rested heavy on my soul. There are always alternating perspectives to life’s most gruesome interpersonal disputes. The great battles between once husband and wife stemmed not just from a day to day mishap, but from the fragmented generational consequences of abandonment, abuse, and fear. What does a daughter do with decades worth of evidence for and against one half of your soul? There are no amends to make, there is no forgiveness to give, there is no hard feeling to dispel. That has already been done. So for today, we just sit with this story, with these heartaches and be; be content that my life is filled with opportunities to grow, be grateful for a mother’s love who provided the courage and fortitude to carry on despite life’s most difficult possible betrayal, be faithful to the Lord Jesus Christ whose great Atonement can lift and heal the hearts of both the fathers and his children. The evidences laid before us were proof of our father’s life, which was full of exploration, friendly encounters, artistic expression, intensely pigmented emotions including great highs and drastic lows. His upbringing encouraged masculine fleeing, running from responsibility in finances, parenting, and commitment. Sadness filled my breast, as I contemplated new details to familiar stories. It is so sad. My dad died in 1989 from complications and infections as a result of AIDS. He was only 43 years old. He sought diligently after freedom from labels of his homosexuality, and lived a life that merited those labels through unquenchable sexual promiscuity. It was that searching for belonging, for satisfaction that left him for dead at the height of New York City’s artistic community’s purging. Countless fallen artists are among the ranks of the AIDS epidemic. He loved me fiercely. In somber gratitude I read personal accounts of his friends after he died. Over and over, there were references to how much he adored me and my brother. Mom always said that he just didn’t know how to be a good dad. Too much baggage, too much hurt. I imagine him now, long since gone from this mortal realm, and yet just a blink to the great Creator’s time frame. I have slowly come to terms with his absence, and recognized that despite having a wonderful childhood, there were challenges that were brought about by his absence, for both us children and our mother. She loved him fiercely, almost to her own detriment. Had she stayed, we would both be dead from the same disease that killed him. She had great courage, for that I am grateful. For my friends who have struggled too with the absence of their father, I ache with you. There are roots and well earned self awareness that can only come through the validation and nurturing from a father. Today in my own community I see the devastating effects abandonment has on young women of all ages. Why does it...
read moreDIY Garden Grow Boxes
There is something to be said about renewal, the chance to start again. Whether the previous attempts were amazing, yielding fruit and harvest, or a dismal failure. Springtime is always a new beginning, starting over and planning life. This year we have been working on some new grow boxes. We have to move our back fence back several feet, and so we will be losing about 8 feet of our garden. We have a ton of grass in the back, and so we decided to build some grow boxes that can be used for more vegetables. I am so excited! It is a ton of work, mind you, but so rewarding. To make the grow boxes we bought 8’x 10″ green treated wood from Home Depot. For each grow box we bought three panels of wood. Two for the sides, and one for the header and footer. We cut the third piece in half. With assembly, we made a rectangle and secured it with screws. We measured out the place on our lawn where we wanted the grow boxes to be, and put small stakes in two corners. This actually proved to be quite useful because later on we ended up having to move the boxes to install the sprinkling system, and didn’t have to remeasure the location. The sprinkling system was tapped into our existing plumbing. Jonny dug a trench, the length of the grow boxes, we installed the straight PVC pipe, and and brought in a line to each grow box, that will then have funny pipe and several 360 degree sprays. The funny pipe is the perfect system to help control how much, or how little you are watering to each plant. You can do a drip head for just a little water, or traditional sprayers, that are little and precise. Unlike full PVC systems, a funny pipe system allows you to really customize your water for the plants, and location. It was fun to build the sprinkling system. Jonny, my husband, is a sprinkling pro. Every year he is re designing something, or fixing sprinkler lines that have broken. This year he taught me all about the primer, the glue, the elbows and fixtures. After the piping was all installed we had to wait 24 hours to run water through. It was a success! Now we have the grow boxes made, and the sparkling system in. The next step is to do something with all the grass underneath the boxes. We had read online one family used cardboard boxes as a barrier to the grass. The cardboard (and grass) will ultimately turn into compost, because there is no way that grass could thrive under a layer of thick cardboard and 8-10 inches of soil. We tried it, and will see if our method actually works. I had been saving up my boxes from Costco and Sam’s Cub for months. I flattened all the boxes and layered them on top of each other. Lastly, we went out to our local dump and got small chipped, screened compost. For only $16 a square yard, we are able to fill all four grow boxes for only $48!! Yippee!! This compost is amazing, it is rich and dark. Because it is screened we don’t bring home rougue and new weeds that...
read moreI almost ran a 5K
In the journey of life there are many highs and lows. The ultimate test of our humanity is to see what we will actually do with the opportunities afforded to us with our time, resources, passions and emotions. Each person is born into a circumstance, a father, and a mother, a lineage of fore bearers, and possibilities of posterity. Some are given more ease and comforts than others, while some are faced with great challenges from the earliest on set of life. Regardless of life’s stage on which you play your part, you have the opportunity to rise and shine to the occasion! In high school, I had the opportunity to act. As a member of a Shakespearean Acting Company, called Junior Shakespeare, we performed scenes across the Salt Lake Valley, including at Utah Valley University, Murray Park, and a whole slew of libraries and special assemblies, including from Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet, Othello and the Taming of the Shrew, just to name of few. One day I was driving my acting coach, I don’t even recall where we going. As we headed up Salt Lake City’s 4th South, just beyond 1300 East, there was an urgent need to flip a U turn…. I hesitated going into the turn lane, and traffic was moving too fast. So, I continued up the street to a safer spot. Frank interjected, “If you hesitate, you miss an opportunity.” I had totally hesitated. In this particular instance, it was no major consequence. In life, there are many opportunities. Some opportunities come quickly and leave instantaneously, like the chance to help a mother whose child dropped toys on the floor, while at the same time carrying her precious little one. Other opportunities are forged in the path of resistance and persistence; like my new friend Alyx who is finishing her first year of medical school, while simultaneously she is caring for her first child while her husband is serving in the military, far away for a season. The opportunity for her to provide medical care will come at great sacrifice and honor to her family. “Sarah, if you hesitate, you miss an opportunity.” In the season of life that I currently am in, life is so full of choices and even if I worked all day, every day from the time I wake to the time I go to bed, I could not accomplish all the tasks before me. And so, I do the best I can with the resources I have. Without the burden of guilt (because which mother isn’t reminded daily of her inadequacies…) I want to live my life without hesitation. I want to be bold in my vision, and committed to my goals, with a plan and a purpose. I signed up for a 5K this coming month, with my sister in law Mary. I am so excited!! The truth be told, I have never run 3.whatever miles in an entire stretch. I have run-walk a lot of miles, but never run-run, all of them. Since I want to fully participate and enjoy this opportunity I dragged my little bit chubby self out the door tonight on a glorious and beautiful night! With ear buds in place, and my Pandora app set to Workout Station I am ready to go! I...
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