Climbafamilytree123: One of the Threads

As my nuclear family is remembering Dad, and Glendon this week, we have cousins who are lingering a little longer with their Dad and sweetheart.

For those that are not as close to the "loop" you might glance at Uncle Martell's blog. I have to say that my favorite lately is the I am thankful list (5.1).

And I need to weigh in, just for a moment. To my cousins:

I need you to hear and understand that you have someone in the prettiest building in Honduras

thinking and praying for you and about you Tuesday through Saturday. And then comes Monday, preparation day, time to lie in bed and think about you some more. Yes, it is 4:45 in the morning, but I am going to get up and pen what has been passing through my heart and mind for weeks.

First of the "Gee" cousins--Carma and Clark

I remember deep dishes of cream of wheat and Scooby snacks.

I remember traveling to the Flaming Gorge Dam together

with two families (how in the world did they do that, with 12 kids and 4 parents between them?)

Did we have vans then? If not, seat belts may be overrated!

I remember hiking Mount Timpanogos,

learning about the Indian maiden who grieved at the loss of her sweetheart. Then there was a story of timber wolves! What I remember is the nightmare, and waking up at Grandma and Grandpa Gee’s house to someone comforting me--yes, it was only a legend.

I remember a very long table in a Lander, Wyoming front room filled with cousins and Clark’s jokes that kept us laughing so we could hardly eat. And I think he was not trying to be funny. (Clark is daring you to look at him, dark hair, in the back.)

I remember going to church in Inglewood, Ohio and hearing a pleasant drawl that made me want to stay. I liked having a twin cousin Karen.

I remember a forest behind the Ohio house and think of Chuck whenever I hear “Oh black water, keep on rolling…” I remember getting to ride behind, on his motorcycle as both of our families migrated west the summer of 1977.

I loved coming to Paris—before, after, and--during the fence painting and other projects when Uncle Martell and family would pull up shirt sleeves, no flinching, to make Grandma’s childhood home inviting to us all. (Those of us who have cleared out window screens and floors know that there are a few daunting tasks involved!) I smile, remembering Howard’s drama of staying in Grandma Stucki’s bedroom alone. There can be adventure even in a town of 504!

And here is a reason to have brothers--to keep everyone smiling!

The projects blossomed! And grandchildren gather still...

I remember being escorted to KayLyn’s sealing by her Uncle Clyn, learning that if you are a BYU professor (especially of music) that there really is no harm in reading while driving. At least not music scores!

I did not have a picture of KayLyn, but I found some of Carma, Patrick and the rest--at the same temple!

With a talented duo to arrange good connections and offer harmony

And singing cousins!

Years later, Kristin and Jared watched my Amber, while I tried to attend a temple session in West Jordan—learning that I had picked its closure for summer maintenance, in the process meeting a 19-year-old from India, who shared her conversion story, leading me to memorable moments of testimony.

Amber charmed Uncle Martell. I think it was her hair style.

He called her “Fritz” and “Spike,” amazed that she could eat grapes before she was a year old.

He taught me a principle I love remembering--Heavenly Father knows we might be stronger at times in one area that another, and accepts and encourages the good we do—even if it is not A+ grade in consistency every minute—He especially likes our “up times.”

Watching Norman, with grown children, learning to sing opera, and watching Chuck’s family walk forward with heads held high as they faced the future, missing a brilliant star in their family, and watching the next generation wrestle challenges and emerge with grit and a smile just as Uncle Martell would when he wrestled his boys, it is not hard to see why someone would light up to hear the name “Gee.” “I knew a Sister Gee!” (My bishop’s mother who served in Scotland remembers Kimberly. And people from Ghana, and Russia and Finland and beyond remember Sister and Elder and President.)

Along the way, we have been included to receive messages about finding cell phones in Accra, regaining balance on snowy Russian roads, and following rabbits in Helsinki—to help us learn about finding our bearings.

I am reading the Bible in Spanish and learned a new version of Exodus 40:12. First, I have learned that Aaron was an older brother to Moses. (Exodus 6:20) And I learned that he brought his children to a door. Doors are what lead each of us to opportunity, but closing of doors can elicit pain…and longing. Just to help you understand some of the comfort I got in Spanish. In my Santa Biblia, the door is at the edifice of not a “congregation,” but a reunion. What kind of reunion? A family reunion, of course!

The wonderful front doors of a little Lander house with smells of homemade whole wheat bread or chocolate turtles opened wide to a rope swing (with Mary Ellen singing “One Tin Soldier,”) to a garden of corn stalks, marvelous hide-and-seek among gooseberries and chokecherries, to chores of pulling out nails or putting shingles on the shed.

This is Grandma (right) at a party with my friends, and the garden before (or after) it did its growing

Here is an older version of the cousin table, and our "reverent" natures!

More friends, and the wood behind the table suggests all kinds of projects in the work.

Our very own doors to the “tabernacle of a reunion” (Ex 40:12, Spanish version) get to be opened now, each time we set a long (or little) table to let grandchildren giggle and clean up spilled water pitchers and hear childhood adventures of parents shooting a hole in the piano!

Did you ever hear the "Pie, pie, pie for tomorrow" story?
This is Grandma Gee doing pie for tomorrow!

Ever, ever did we find ourselves renewed at those Lander doors!

Even when we thought we were emancipated!

The doors moved South, but the welcome remained!

It is now our job to mirror eternity in our own little families…to allow our memories and comforts from our “timber wolf” night mares to extend “throughout [our coming] generations” (Exodus 40:15.)

I cried a little when explaining in Spanish to Sister Ocampo, our matron, what is going on in my extended family.

She told us of encouraging her father in law to join the Church at age 100 or 101, which he did. Her eyes lit up. She is a convert, but a seminary teacher of 14 years. And she knows about families. “Is your uncle close in age to your father?” (Yes, they are 14 months apart, fairly competitive. And both know about a sizable wrestler’s bear hug.) She asked me to think hard about who will do the receiving at the door of the reunion--this family reunion.

We are not ready to concede to a full-fledged brother's reunion...

but I am learning that brothers offer great introduction to new places!

So, here I am--sharing “the ark” of my testimony—that the heavens help us through hard things. That we can work to “see afar off.” I listened to a devotional Tuesday where a speaker told how his wife had to teach Primary children about praying. Her father had recently passed, and she had prayed that he could stay just a little longer. “Why should I pray, if Heavenly Father is going to do what He wants, anyway?”

Wrestling with this question, she determined that she felt better when she prayed. And so do I--even though Dad is still gone, our luggage is still lost, a sister has less than perfect health, children have different ideas of steering their “personal motorcycles,” and my husband does not eat dessert! Loving and praying for cousins helps me remember the threads of Grandma Gee’s crocheting, intertwined ever so adeptly—securely connected and amazingly strong. And quite a work of art!