Christian's Into "Trouble"

CHRISTIAN’S INTO “TROUBLE”
This week's offering is something a little more lighthearted.

Roger and I drove to Utah for Thanksgiving of 2001.  Mark and Wendy graciously hosted Thanksgiving dinner at their home.  Aaron and family were there, along with Anne and Chris, and B.J. Salters.  Roger and I arrived at Mark’s on Wednesday so we could help with the preparations and visit with the children.

I liked to play games with Christian, and the game he was the most interested in at this time was “Trouble.”  He thought it was great fun when he got to send one of my men home, and if I looked disappointed he would shrug his shoulders and say, “Well, that’s the way you play the game, Grandma.”

Christian, November 1999

He did not, however, think it was entertaining if I sent one of his men home, and he was not above bending the rules a little to even things out.  To make it seem like he had more men moving around the board, I suggested that he play two colors at once and pop the die and move the men as if he were two different people.  Christian thought that was a great idea and he popped and moved, and popped and moved again with great enjoyment.  He was green and blue.  I was yellow.  One of the red men was missing, so we avoided that color.

TROUBLE

Roger drove home the Saturday after Thanksgiving, but I stayed a few extra days and rode the bus home Tuesday evening.  Late Saturday afternoon I went to Mark’s to watch the three children while he and Wendy did some Christmas shopping.  I brought one of Anne’s maternity jumpers with me that needed to be hemmed shorter.  I wanted to finish it and leave it at Aaron’s where I was spending the night so that Anne could pick it up there in a few days when she was scheduled to babysit Aaron’s girls.  When Christian wanted to play trouble I agreed, but I tried to take a few stitches on the jumper each time he took his two turns.  He could see that my attention was not wholly on the game, so finally he said, “That’s OK, Grandma.  I can pop and move for you.”

So Christian happily popped and moved for three people while I finished hemming the jumper.  I lost, of course.

A Shelter From the Storm

A Shelter from the Storm
28 March 2016

       I have been blessed with wonderful men in my life.

Men who were examples of hard work, dedication, faith, fun, and love.

My Dad and Uncle Weldon Johnson

Growing up, the most important man, of course, was my father, Vaughn Speakman.

One of my earliest memories of him is when I was about four years old and we lived in the little town of Aspermont in West Texas. 

Easter in Aspermont - Sue & Nancy

My sister and I were small and our family lived in a little rented house.

Christmas in Aspermont

Nancy's band-aide was for her small pox vaccination. 

 In the spring in West Texas there would be thunderstorms and sometimes tornadoes.   I remember one night when there was a lot of thunder and I couldn't sleep.  When the telephone unexpectedly rang, my father answered it and spoke to someone. After he hung up he told my mother that there was a tornado warning and we all needed to go to a storm cellar.  There were several families in town who had “storm cellars” and when there was a tornado warning everyone in town would gather to one of these cellars.

My sister and I were already in bed, so my parents wrapped blankets around us and carried us down the street to the back of the neighbor’s lot. 

Asleep in Aspermont

 The cellars would be out in the yard, not part of the house.

You entered by double doors that would be opened out on a slant just above the ground.   

Similar Storm Cellar

We went down the cement steps (which often had spiders) and spread blankets out on the floor of the cellar.  The children slept or played, the women visited, but the men stood outside and watched the clouds.  Occasionally my dad would come down the steps to report on the weather and check on us to see if everything was all right.  He had rain spots on his shirt and I was worried about his staying out where it was dangerous.  My mother told me not to worry, that the men would come in and close the cellar doors if they saw a tornado.

This was my first impression of what it meant to be a man and a father.  He carried me out of harm’s way.  He watched for danger.  He stood between the storm and me.  I knew from this experience that when I faced any kind of  “storm” in my life,  he would be there for me and I could trust him.

My dad cared about my physical, mental, and spiritual welfare.
He was always there to counsel and support me..

In Brownwood he organized a little dependent Sunday School to give us the opportunity to attend church and learn the gospel principles, taking on the responsibility of finding a meeting facility and organizing meetings.  He eventually had to leave his job in Brownwood because of religious persecution from his boss.
This, however, turned out to be a blessing in disguise - he got a better job in Fort Worth and our family was able to attend a real ward, resulting in my mother being baptized.

Brownwood Dependent Sunday School

In Fort Worth, when he served as bishop of the Fort Worth Ward, he took on the extra duty of teaching seminary one year when no one else was available, so that the teenagers in the ward would not miss a year of seminary instruction.  Looking back on those times in later years he marveled at what he was able to accomplish.  "I don't know how we did it," he remarked.  

"We were certainly blessed."

Fort Worth Ward Bishopric - 1962

His example has informed my understanding of my Heavenly Father.

He also stands between the storm and me.  He also cares a about my welfare.
He is there when I seek his counsel.

Psalm 46:1-3

1 God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.

 2 Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea;

 3 Though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof. Selah.


My father was an advocate for women, believing that they should have all the advantages of men,
including as much education as they desired and any job they were qualified for.
It always upset him when he met a man who would not send his daughters to college "because they were only going to be housewives."

Fort Worth House

His faith and courage strengthened him at he dealt with life's problems and with the physical challenges he faced in later life.  He always stood and faced the storm, knowing there was an eternal shelter at his back and a dawn beyond the dark clouds and howling winds of the black night.

Colonel Vaughn Speakman

Guarding the Temple

20 March 2016
In celebration of the dedication of the Provo City Center Temple today.

"LET THE MOUNTAINS SHOUT FOR JOY!  LET THE VALLEY SING"

Guarding the Temple

The Fresno Temple was dedicated on a beautiful spring day in April 2000, but during the cold winter months preceding, as it neared completion, the builders took down the construction fence in order to finish the exterior walls and erect the decorative enclosure. During the several weeks it would take for the decorative fence around the temple to be assembled and completed, the construction site would be vulnerable to intruders, and Roger Lambert, who was a member of the Stake High Council, was assigned to organize protection for the area during the night hours. 

A man was to be stationed in the parking lot between the Stake Center and the temple from evening until morning, and the men signed up for shifts of 2-3 hours throughout the night. If any man’s replacement didn’t show up for the assigned shift, Roger received a phone call from the person on duty and would go over to guard the temple himself. The men sat in their cars with their heaters running or wrapped in blankets or coats to keep warm.  Roger would listen to the radio to help keep himself awake.  These men guarded the temple to prevent destructive acts that could delay the blessings from the Lord anticipated by the Saints in the area.  The men of the priesthood made sure the temple was never left unprotected.

It gave me a good feeling to think about the priesthood brethren guarding the temple.  This showed me that these priesthood bearers loved God and respected His house.  It was the same feeling I got when my father stood with the men of Aspermont, Texas, watching the sky during a tornado alert. 

Roger remembers attending the dedication of the Los Angeles Temple when he was a boy and we have witnessed many temple dedications since.  They are always a time for great rejoicing.  

President Monson has said:

The world can be a challenging and difficult place in which to live. We are often surrounded by that which would drag us down. As you and I go to the holy houses of God, as we remember the covenants we make within, we will be more able to bear every trial and to overcome each temptation. In this sacred sanctuary we will find peace; we will be renewed and fortified.

Why are so many willing to give so much in order to receive the blessings of the temple? Those who understand the eternal blessings which come from the temple know that no sacrifice is too great, no price too heavy, no struggle too difficult in order to receive those blessings. There are never too many miles to travel, too many obstacles to overcome, or too much discomfort to endure. They understand that the saving ordinances received in the temple that permit us to someday return to our Heavenly Father in an eternal family relationship and to be endowed with blessings and power from on high are worth every sacrifice and every effort.

APRIL 2011 | The Holy Temple—a Beacon to the World

She's a Real Chick

She's A Real Chick



This is a story of mortification and humiliation.  It’s a funny story, but it wasn’t so funny at the time.

My sister Nancy and I attended East Ward Elementary School in Brownwood, Texas.
At the time of this story, she was in first grade, I was in third.  It was a great school.  I loved walking into the building the first day of every school year and being greeted by the wonderful familiar smells of waxed floors, chalk dust, and new crayons.  Each classroom had a bank of windows across the outside wall and wooden lockers for each student across the back.

          Our desks had spaces for ink bottles and the lid lifted to store our books.  Outside was an endless grassy playground with a few swings and other play equipment, but we girls spent a lot of our time playing with balls and jumping ropes.  We would check out the balls and big ropes from a supply closet.  We also brought jacks and, sometimes, tops and marbles from home.  We enjoyed sports like baseball, but play could be difficult because we wore only dresses and it took more organizing.

Doodle Bug Hole

          Nature also provided diversion on the playground.  There were usually doodle bug holes in the soft dirt where you could pester the little creatures into coming up and showing themselves.  Sometimes you could catch a horned toad, but you had to be careful that it didn’t spit on you.  In the spring there might be swarms of monarch butterflies, and on a hot day you would sometimes find tarantulas in the outside water fountains.  If a ball went over the fence someone had to go gingerly though the cactus in the vacant lot to retrieve it.

        The school had an auditorium with a stage and I got to be Cinderella in my class Christmas play. My mother added a long skirt to a ballet tutu for my costume.  Across the back of the auditorium were a few shelves with books that constituted the “library.”  We were allowed to go there on Fridays and check out books.  Often I would crawl into bed with my book after dinner on Friday and read until I finished it.  I liked Pippa Longstocking books, Miss Pickerell books, and The Bobsey Twins.

Cinderella

Principle-Mrs. Wilson, Sue Anne, Teacher-Mrs. Friend

          This incident happened in the spring.  In fact, it was Easter.  The first grade was putting on an Easter play during the school holiday and the first graders were excited because it was their first time on the stage in the auditorium. When my mother took Nancy to the school for the performance, I went along.  Nancy had to be there early to get into her costume and when we arrived in the first grade classroom, there was a buzz of activity.  Little Easter critters filled the room, and Nancy hurried into her costume.  

          There was also a little hum of concerned voices among a group of mothers, and I soon found out why.  The “chick” was not able to be there.  My mother hurried over to me.  She wanted me to be the chick!  I was the only extra child available and since I was small, I could probably squeeze into a first grade costume.  Besides, the chick only had to say one line, she assured, so I agreed to be the chick. It shouldn’t be hard and might even be fun.

Not me, but similar

          They handed me the chick costume - and then I got the bad news.  I had to change right there in the classroom.  The play was about to start and there was no time to go anywhere private.  I balked. I was not stripping down to my underwear in front of all those first graders! The solution the mothers came up with was not a big improvement.  Several made a circle around me, held out their skirts, and instructed me to change.  “No one can see you now,” they chirped.  It didn’t feel very private to me with several women peering down at me, but I could see there was no way out, so I quickly squeezed into the chick costume, which was pretty skimpy - like a bathing suit that tied around the back of the neck - and two sizes too small.

I was given instructions about my one line and when to say it.  I stood on the stage with everyone else in my skimpy costume trying to anticipate the moment when I should speak up.  But I had never even seen this production and I didn’t have a feel for the flow, so I’m afraid there was a deadly silence that lasted several seconds while everyone else on stage looked at me expectantly.  My sister nodded meaningfully and I self-consciously spurted out my one line.

To the adults, this was not even an occurrence to be given a second thought.  To the first graders, it was an oddity to have a third grader in their play.  But my classmates howled with good-natured glee as they teased me the first day back at school.  They had all heard about my humiliation - that I was in the first grade play - in a skimpy chick costume!

Easter Togs

.

These are the directions to one of our playground games.
SEVEN UP
Single Person Bouncing Ball Game

Equipment:
Small rubber ball or tennis ball
Chalk
Windowless wall

Set up:
Make a line on the ground at least 5 feet from the wall.

Play:
The object of the game is to get through 7 levels of motions.
Use these or create your own.

~ Onesies: Bounce the ball against the wall, and catch the ball, once.
~ Twosies: Bounce the ball against the wall, twirl around and catch the ball. Do this twice.
~ Threesies: Bounce the ball against the wall, clap three times, and catch the ball. Do this three times.
~ Foursies:  Bounce the ball against the wall, clap your hands once in front of your body and once behind, and catch the ball. Do this four times.
~ Fivesies: Bounce the ball against the wall, slap your hands against your thighs, then crossed slap your chest, then clap your hands, and catch the ball. Do this five times.
~ Sixies: Bounce the ball against the wall, lift your right knee and clap under it, then lift your left knee and clap under it, and catch the ball. Do this six times.
~ Sevensies: Bounce the ball against the wall by throwing it under your leg, and catch the ball. Do this seven times.

If you make a mistake at any time, you have to start all over, but since you are playing by yourself, you can make your own rules.

Left Turn Honkers

LEFT TURN HONKERS

One Sunday morning when I was a teenager my mother, my sister, and I got in the car and started off for church.  Since my father was the bishop, he had left earlier and gone alone.  We weren’t very far into the trip before we discovered that every time we turned left the car horn began honking wildly.  There was obviously some sort of short in the system.
I was so embarrassed that I suggested we turn around and go home.  My sister, always unflappable, couldn’t have cared less if we attracted attention.  My mother, who was driving, insisted that we might as well go on to church, as there seemed no point in honking all the way back and sitting home when we could be at Sunday School.  So on we flew, bracing ourselves every time we approached a left turn.  
The responses of our fellow motorists proved interesting.  Some people stared in scorn that we were so rude as to disturb the Sabbath tranquility with our dreadful jangle.  Others looked upset, afraid that we were directing our honks at them personally for some unknown misdeed.  Making one turn, we passed a carload of men who thought we were flirting with them and began following us. (They kept going when we turned into the church parking lot.)
Since Fort Worth was a city about the size of Salt Lake, but with only one ward, it was a long way to church.  There are a lot of left turns when you travel miles of windy southern roads, but we finally arrived, laughing so hysterically we could hardly compose ourselves to enter the chapel with the proper demeanor.  How glad we were to arrive at our destination! After church the horn was 
disconnected so that we could travel home without attracting attention.
I began to understand the Savior’s injunction about judging.  Situations and people may not be what they seem.  So much of what we observe in others is really just a reflection of our own lives, interests, and preconceptions.  Fellow travelers on life’s highways have little real insight into the challenges and predicaments of those whom they meet at the crossroads.
        I still sometimes charge through life as a left turn honker, totally inappropriate and out of context.  I can only hope that I will see and be seen through the lens of mercy and humor.  I pray that my fellow travelers and I will arrive at last, in spite of difficulties along the way, at the Lord’s house - with laughter on our lips and joy in the journey we have made together.
Sue Anne S. Lambert Oct 2005