Parental Guidance
Question of the day: what are some lessons you learned from your parents? I've learned so many lessons from my parents but I'll mention a few.
I learned service from both of my parents. Mother was always baking or cooking something to take to a sick or sorrowful neighbor. As a kid I was a bit of a smart alek and when I came home to a house full of delicious aroma's I'd ask, "who is that for!" Whenever there was a Ward welfare assignment Russell Black and his brood of (I was going to say willing children but that would be lying) children would be there to hoe beets, pick beans, move headgates--you name it we did it. I remember being reluctant then--I'm incredibly grateful now. One time one of the men in our ward (Russ Gerber) was really sick and they transferred him to LDS hospital in Salt Lake. At that time Russ's wife JoAnn didn't drive and dad would pick her up and take her to the hospital to see her husband every single night. It seems like this went on for a couple of months. It was my job to tend JoAnn's kids while she was away at the hospital. I don't remember dad asking me if I was willing to do this and I don't recall being unhappy about the assignment--service was just something you did. Years later when my family was small Russ was the Bishop of our ward. His kindness and concern for me as an overwhelmed young mother still means so much to me.
I've already mentioned Mom's baking and cooking skills--she was the BEST. All of her children love to cook and we learned that from her. She made the best bread on the planet and this was before bread kneading machines. She would mix the ingredients and each of us in turn would knead our little hearts out until we couldn't knead any more. I'm sure she had to step in and finish the kneading. Mom always made a huge batch of bread, 8-10 loaves at a time. One night when we lived up to Dean's house, mother had a batch of bread fresh out of the oven cooling on the kitchen counter. A man knocked at our door because he was having car trouble and needed to use our phone to call a tow truck (pre-cell phone days). After the man made his call he gazed longingly at the bread and said, "Ma'am, that bread smells so good. I haven't had a piece of homemade bread for years. I'll give you $20 for a loaf." Mom laughed and said he could have the whole batch for that much money. then Mom wrapped a loaf of that pipping hot bread in a clean dish towel and sent him on his way--without collecting any money! I'll never forget that gesture of kindness.
Dad didn't tell me that I had to succeed at everything I tried but I was never allowed to quit. If I tried something and failed I got back up and tried again. What wonderful training for life!
One of my favorite memories is of a time when I went to my dad for advice because "I didn't want to make a mistake." I remember the advice he gave me vividly all these years later. He said, "Oh sweetheart, you're not done making mistakes!" How liberating; how empowering! I don't have to be afraid to make mistakes. Making mistakes is part of Heavenly Father's plan. This doesn't mean that I intentionally make mistakes but it means that I'm free to try new things, to test my limits, to take a chance--even though I may fail. On Tuesday BYU President Samuelson spoke at the opening devotional. His topic was how to fail successfully. I appreciated that he challenged me to push out of my comfort zone; to try new, even hard, things. But I'm luck because my dad taught me that lesson a long long time ago.
I learned service from both of my parents. Mother was always baking or cooking something to take to a sick or sorrowful neighbor. As a kid I was a bit of a smart alek and when I came home to a house full of delicious aroma's I'd ask, "who is that for!" Whenever there was a Ward welfare assignment Russell Black and his brood of (I was going to say willing children but that would be lying) children would be there to hoe beets, pick beans, move headgates--you name it we did it. I remember being reluctant then--I'm incredibly grateful now. One time one of the men in our ward (Russ Gerber) was really sick and they transferred him to LDS hospital in Salt Lake. At that time Russ's wife JoAnn didn't drive and dad would pick her up and take her to the hospital to see her husband every single night. It seems like this went on for a couple of months. It was my job to tend JoAnn's kids while she was away at the hospital. I don't remember dad asking me if I was willing to do this and I don't recall being unhappy about the assignment--service was just something you did. Years later when my family was small Russ was the Bishop of our ward. His kindness and concern for me as an overwhelmed young mother still means so much to me.
I've already mentioned Mom's baking and cooking skills--she was the BEST. All of her children love to cook and we learned that from her. She made the best bread on the planet and this was before bread kneading machines. She would mix the ingredients and each of us in turn would knead our little hearts out until we couldn't knead any more. I'm sure she had to step in and finish the kneading. Mom always made a huge batch of bread, 8-10 loaves at a time. One night when we lived up to Dean's house, mother had a batch of bread fresh out of the oven cooling on the kitchen counter. A man knocked at our door because he was having car trouble and needed to use our phone to call a tow truck (pre-cell phone days). After the man made his call he gazed longingly at the bread and said, "Ma'am, that bread smells so good. I haven't had a piece of homemade bread for years. I'll give you $20 for a loaf." Mom laughed and said he could have the whole batch for that much money. then Mom wrapped a loaf of that pipping hot bread in a clean dish towel and sent him on his way--without collecting any money! I'll never forget that gesture of kindness.
Dad didn't tell me that I had to succeed at everything I tried but I was never allowed to quit. If I tried something and failed I got back up and tried again. What wonderful training for life!
One of my favorite memories is of a time when I went to my dad for advice because "I didn't want to make a mistake." I remember the advice he gave me vividly all these years later. He said, "Oh sweetheart, you're not done making mistakes!" How liberating; how empowering! I don't have to be afraid to make mistakes. Making mistakes is part of Heavenly Father's plan. This doesn't mean that I intentionally make mistakes but it means that I'm free to try new things, to test my limits, to take a chance--even though I may fail. On Tuesday BYU President Samuelson spoke at the opening devotional. His topic was how to fail successfully. I appreciated that he challenged me to push out of my comfort zone; to try new, even hard, things. But I'm luck because my dad taught me that lesson a long long time ago.
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