the Story Lady

Anna, The Inn Keeper's Wife

2016-12-04T09:34:00.001-07:00

Anna, the Inn Keeper’s Wife

By Gale Ashcroft

The most wonderful story ever told happened just over 2000 years ago, but surprisingly, we don’t really know very much about it. We know Mary and Joseph went to Bethlehem to pay taxes, and there Mary gave birth to the Christ Child and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

We know Angels came to share glad tidings of great joy with Shepherds, abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. We know those shepherds went to Bethlehem to see what the Lord had made known to them, and found Mary and Joseph and the babe lying in a manger. We know the shepherds shared abroad the saying which the angel had told them concerning that child, and everyone who heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds.

But we don’t know who helped the little family, who owned the inn where there was no room, or the manger in which they laid the babe. We don’t know how this glorious event impacted the people in Bethlehem that night, but we can suppose.

Perhaps the inn was owned by a kind man, with a kind wife, who did their best to help Mary and Joseph, although they didn’t have space to make a place for them in their inn. Perhaps the innkeeper was named Benjamin. Perhaps his wife was Anna. Perhaps Anna was a good woman, with a true and honest heart, who loved the Lord and tried to serve Him the best she could.

Perhaps she was thrilled when her parents arranged a marriage between her and Benjamin, because she knew he was a good man and she looked forward to helping him keep the Inn in Bethlehem that his father, his grandfather, and many grandfather’s before that had owned and run. Perhaps Anna loved serving there, keeping the inn neat and clean, serving good, wholesome food to travelers who came through their village, often on their way to Jerusalem less than 6 miles away.

For Anna, life was nearly perfect in every way but one. The one thing she dreamed of, the one thing she longed for, the one thing all Jewish women prepared for, had not come to pass for her. She was not a mother. When she was young she dreamed of the day she would hold her own child in her arms. She helped her mother who was a skilled midwife until she became one herself, and each time she watched as a new child was born, she thrilled to imagine it was her own baby. But as the years passed and she remained childless, her dreams turned to a longing that never was fulfilled. Each time she bathed and tenderly wrapped a new child in swaddling clothes, then carefully placed it in its mother’s arms, Anna’s heart sobbed silent tears and her world emptied just a tiny bit more. For in spite of Benjamin and the countless guests she welcomed and fed in her humble inn, her heart was empty.

Anna’s consolation came from her association with another woman, also barren, who over the years had become her faithful confidant. Elizabeth also knew the pain of childlessness, and she and Anna became fast friends, although they did not live close to each other. Elizabeth was a cousin on Anna’s father’s side, and they were both daughters of Aaron. Elizabeth’s husband, Zacharias, was actually a priest. Then one day, less than a year ago, Anna had heard the unbelievable news that Elizabeth was with child. She could not believe it! Elizabeth, like her, was well stricken in years. How could it have happened?

For weeks Anna’s own bareness hurt even worse as she struggled to overcome her jealousy and envy and to be happy for her cousin. But then, just a few months ago when Elizabeth’s son was born, Anna’s heart had changed. She went to see her cousin and new baby. She was there the day they came to circumcise the child, she had been surprised like everyone else when Elizabeth said he was not to be called Zacharias, after his father, but John. And she had seen his father write, “His name is John”, and witnessed for herself that as soon as he had written, Zacharias’ mouth was opened and he spoke! Most of all, she had heard the words he spoke as he was filled with the Holy Ghost and he prophesied that this child would go before the face of the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation unto his people by the remission of their sins. (Luke 1:76-77) When he spoke her heart had been touched. In place of the emptiness, a hope had been born. If John was the forerunner, then the Messiah, the Christ, was coming too.

Those words had pierced her soul. Long had her people waited for the Messiah. Long had she waited. Micah had prophesied that out of Bethlehem would come forth the ruler of Israel, the long foretold Messiah, (Micah 5:2) who would come with “healing in his wings” (Malachi 4:2), to “bind the brokenhearted,….to comfort all that mourn; to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning.” ( Isaiah 61: 1-3) As the psalmist had said, “weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning. “ (Psalm 30:5) Oh, that He might come in her days.

Anna had thought of little else since then. It was funny how even though the emptiness remained, the pain was lessoned. Hope had begun to grow in her heart. Not the hope that she, like Elizabeth, would have her womb opened in her old age. She accepted that Elisabeth’s miracle was not for her, but the hope that through the Messiah, someday the ashes of her morning would be turned to joy.

That was six months ago, but the hope had not dwindled. Winter had come and gone, and it was now spring. Lilies were growing on the hillsides, new lambs were bleating in their folds, and Anna’s heart, newly awakened after years of slumber, drank in the sights and smells of spring thirstily.

But she was busy. Caesar Augustus had decreed that all his empire should be taxed, or in other words, enrolled, registered. As if he didn’t get enough income already. But he wanted to be sure no one slipped through his fingers, so everyone had to journey to the city of his ancestors and be counted. It surely seemed as if at least half of Judea descended from King David, because little Bethlehem was filled to overflowing with people. Anna and Benjamin’s Inn was full and then some. There was barely room to turn around inside their walls. Yet it didn’t bother Anna. She was in her element when there were hungry mouths to feed and people to make comfortable.

“It also didn’t hurt that they were earning a great deal of money”, Anna thought with a smile. Now, perhaps, Benjamin could build a new stable. The cave his grandfather’s had originally turned into their stable was small, albeit a warm and comfortable place for their animals. But with the extra income, perhaps they could buy another milk cow, maybe even two. The extra cream and butter would make Anna’s table the best in Bethlehem, and Benjamin would need to expand the stables.

It was at the end of a long, tiring day when Anna finally took a moment to step outside the crowded Inn and sit on the rough wooden bench Benjamin had built for weary travelers beside their door. A cool evening breeze felt delicious as it brushed her flushed cheeks. Feeding and caring for so many people was hard work, but she was satisfied that everyone inside was well fed and comfortable.

The sound of footsteps jerked Anna’s drooping eyelids open. A heavily laden donkey was being led to the Inn by a tall, well-built young man. Taken aback, Anna realized that the young woman sitting amidst the rugs and packages on the donkey’s back was great with child. She looked worn out, although the weariness on her face did not make her look cross or petulant. Instead, she looked tired, but peaceful.

“Could we stay at your Inn,” the man asked, glancing back at the girl. “We’ve come a long way, and my wife needs a warm roof over her head tonight.”

“I’m sorry,” Anna replied sincerely. “I hate to turn you away, but we are totally full. I’m afraid you are going to have a hard time finding anywhere to stay right now. Our whole town is filled to overflowing.”

The man looked anxiously at his wife again, then turned back to Anna. “Is there nowhere we could go? Even a shed would be preferable to sleeping outside.”

Benjamin came around the corner of the inn at that moment, and walked up to the man. Absentmindedly he stroked the coarse hair on the donkey’s mane as he took in the man, his weary wife, and their baggage.

“I wish we did have room for you in our Inn,” he assured the man. “While our spring days are warm, here in the hill country, it still gets cold at night. But as I’m sure my wife has told you, we are totally full. There is no room for you in our Inn.”

“A shed then, or anywhere with walls?” begged the man. “We will need to be here until the census is taken, and as you can see, my wife’s time is almost at hand. Surely there is somewhere we could find a bit of privacy.”

Anna looked at her husband. She felt bad for this weary couple. How could they turn them away? There wasn’t a square inch of space in or around their town for miles that didn’t already have at least two, sometimes three tents crowded on it. Inside their inn was packed with people, and even if someone were to leave within the next few days, such a teaming mass of humanity would make finding a spot to give birth nigh on impossible.

Benjamin was also reluctant to turn the couple away. Anna could see the wheels in his mind turning as he thought on the problem. Finally a light seemed to come into his eyes, and he turned back to the man. “I do have one idea,” he suggested hesitantly. “It’s not the best or most elegant place to stay, but I have a stable back in the hills where I keep my cattle. It’s old, and not terribly big, but it’s warm and dry, and we keep it clean. The best part is, it’s away from everyone else and you would have total privacy.”

A look of relief and hope passed between the couple, then the man turned back to Benjamin and held out his hand. “Thank you, sir,” he said simply. “You are truly a blessing from God.”

Benjamin led the couple away, and Anna hurried back into the Inn to gather some rugs, a loaf of bread, and a pot of her good, lentil soup that was left over from dinner. By the time she got to the open cave where their stable had been built the man had helped his wife from the donkey and she was sitting on a pile of blankets and baggage.

“Thank you,” she said softly as Anna handed her the bread and soup. “You really are a blessing from God to us. It has been a long journey.”

“How soon before your baby comes?” Anna asked compassionately. “It’s a shame you had to travel at all right now.”

“He should be born within a few weeks,” the girl answered with a smile.

Anna smiled herself. It seemed all young Jewish girls thought their firstborn would be a son, to carry on his father’s name, but this girl seemed positively certain. “Well, we’ll see,” she thought.

The next few days came and went swiftly for Anna, who didn’t have a moment to herself until late evenings. But each day she made time to check in on the couple in the stable. The husband had arranged it comfortably. He had done a little carpentry work to make it extra nice for his wife, and Anna was impressed with how warm and cozy and friendly the little stable had become. She was also impressed with how gently the husband cared for his wife, and with how uncomplaining and sweet she was, even though she must have been miserable by this time.

Then, one evening as Anna came to check on them, she found the husband kneeling beside his wife, holding her hand and wiping her forehead. “We think it’s time,” was all he said. Anna hurried back to the house to gather up soft wool to lay under the mother, a fresh sheepskin to put in the manger for the baby, sea sponges, oil and ointment, yards of linen for swaddling clothes, and a bucket of warm water, fresh from the well. Last of all she bound a fresh towel around herself before hurrying off to the stable.

Anna had birthed many babies in her time, and each was a sweet experience, but there seemed to be something divine about this birth. Not even the animals bleated until the cry of that tiny boy broke the silence.

And so it was, that while they were there, it was accomplished that she brought forth her first born son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger. For Anna, it was the most sublime delivery she had ever attended. The old anguish was gone, completely supplanted by the joy of seeing a new life come into the world. But not just a new life. She couldn’t get over the feeling that there was something special about this child, so fresh from His Father in Heaven. She couldn’t shake the feeling that, although they seemed alone in that stable with just the cattle and sheep as witnesses, it seemed as if the room was filled with a heavenly presence.

And then, just as Anna finished helping the young mother into a clean robe and settling her on her bed, there was a sound at the entrance to the cave. Anna looked up to see Benjamin, her sweet, tender Benjamin, leading a group of wonder-eyed shepherds into the stable.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized as he approached the husband. “They came past my door, insisting they were told by an angel that they should come here.” Benjamin stopped then, seeing the young mother on her bed, her newborn infant nestled in lamb’s wool, lying in the manger next to her. “I’m so sorry,” he began. “I’m so sorry.”

But the sweet mother looked up, smiled, then reached for her baby to pick him up and show him to them all.

“Glory to God in the highest,” one of the shepherds sobbed in awe. “It’s just as the angel said. This is the Savior, this is Christ, the Lord,” and they all fell to their knees in silent adoration.

Not a sound was heard as the young mother uncovered her tiny child’s face and his dark eyes blinked at the watching worshippers, but Anna’s heart, empty so long without a child of her own, was suddenly, gloriously, wondrously filled to overflowing with the Spirit of the Lord, never to be empty again.

Anna, the Inn Keeper’s Wife

By Gale Ashcroft

“Could we stay at your Inn,” the man asked, glancing back at the girl. “We’ve come a long way, and my wife needs a warm roof over her head tonight.”

The man looked anxiously at his wife again, then turned back to Anna. “Is there nowhere we could go? Even a shed would be preferable to sleeping outside.”

A look of relief and hope passed between the couple, then the man turned back to Benjamin and held out his hand. “Thank you, sir,” he said simply. “You are truly a blessing from God.”

“Thank you,” she said softly as Anna handed her the bread and soup. “You really are a blessing from God to us. It has been a long journey.”

“How soon before your baby comes?” Anna asked compassionately. “It’s a shame you had to travel at all right now.”

“He should be born within a few weeks,” the girl answered with a smile.

But the sweet mother looked up, smiled, then reached for her baby to pick him up and show him to them all.

Not a sound was heard as the young mother uncovered her tiny child’s face and his dark eyes blinked

at the watching worshipers

, but Anna’s heart, empty so long without a child of her own, was suddenly, gloriously, wondrously filled to overflowing with the Spirit of the Lord, never to be empty again.

The Most Beautiful Girl!

2014-01-14T08:44:00.002-07:00

Once, when I was a little girl, I read a story in the Childrens Friend about a beautiful girl who learns what true beauty is. This story changed my life. It helped me get through the difficult years of childhood and adolescence when I felt like I was the ugly duckling trying to live in a world of beautiful swans. I wish I could give credit to the author of this story, but I don't even know the real title. I sure am thankful for it, though. It made all the difference in the world to me.

The Most Beautiful Girl

Once upon a time there was a beautiful girl who lived in a lovely house with her mother and father. Everyone thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world. She wore gorgeous dresses made from silk and lace that floated around her and made her look lovely. She wore long white gloves that covered her hands and her arms and kept her delicate skin smooth and soft and white. She wore wonderful hats that shaded her face whenever she went outside and kept her skin smooth and fair.

This beautiful girl also had long, silky hair that shown like gold. Every night her servants brushed it 100 times to keep it shiny and smooth. In every way this girl was the most beautiful girl in the world, but best of all was the way her eyes sparkled every time she smiled, which was the loveliest thing about her because she smiled all the time, and her smile was like sunshine that made everyone feel happy and good!

One day a prince rode through the girl's village. She happened to be walking down the street with her mother, and as the prince passed she looked up and smiled at him. Immediately the prince lost his heart to the beautiful girl, and he made up his mind that he would marry her when he grew up.

Life was wonderful for the beautiful young girl, until a terrible thing happened. One day both of her parents died. Suddenly there was no one to care for or buy her lovely clothes or hats or gloves, and no servants to brush her hair or help her stay clean and lovely.

Eventually the beautiful young girl had to find a job as a servant for another family, taking care of their little girls. She could no longer were gloves to cover her hands and keep her skin soft and white. Soon they turned tan and brown and rough from washing the children’s clothes and playing with them outside. She didn't have any lovely hats to wear so her face grew tan and her skin wasn’t smooth and soft anymore. Instead of lovely silk and lace gowns she wore simple servant dresses, and she kept her hair twisted into a tight knot covered with a servant’s cap. No one brushed it for her any more, but every night she brushed the little girl’s hair one hundred times, and while she brushed she would tell them happy stories and sing songs, and they loved her very much.

It looked like everything about the beautiful girl had changed, except her smile. It was still the same, because inside she really hadn’t changed at all. She was still sweet and kind, and beautiful!

Years passed, and eventually the prince was old enough to take a bride. He had never forgotten the beautiful girl he saw in the village, so he decided to find the girl and ask her to be his wife. When the people in the village heard the prince was coming all the ladies were very excited. They quickly got fancied up in their prettiest dresses and went to watch for the prince.

The little girls who the beautiful girl took care of wanted her to go see the prince, too. They were sure the prince would fall in love if he saw her because they knew she was the most beautiful girl in the world. But the beautiful girl didn’t want to go. She thought she was no longer beautiful. She knew that her skin wasn’t smooth and soft and white, her hair wasn’t long and lovely, and her clothes weren’t gorgeous anymore. In fact, she was sure that if the prince saw her he wouldn’t think she was beautiful at all. But the little girls begged and pleaded, and the beautiful girl didn’t want to make them sad, so at last she told them she would take them to see the prince, although she planned to stand at the back of the crowd where the prince wouldn’t be able to see her.

So they went and stood with all the other lovely ladies along the side of the road and waited for the prince. Finally he came, riding his horse slowly down the street. Carefully he looked at each woman, searching for the beautiful girl who had won his heart. The beautiful girl stood way at the back of the crowd, watching over the little girls she took care of. The prince looked and looked, and he saw many lovely ladies. He saw fancy dresses and hats and gloves. He saw silky smooth hair and skin, but he didn’t see the beautiful girl he loved.

Just as the prince approached the place where the beautiful girl stood, one of the little girls she took care of stumbled and fell. The little girl scraped her knee on a rock and began to cry. The beautiful girl knelt and wrapped her arms around the crying child. She kissed the little girl's knee and dried her tears, then picked her up and held her in her arms, kissing her hair and whispering in her ear. The little girl looked up into her smiling face and the beautiful girl smiled down with twinkling eyes just as the prince rode past. He saw the sparkling smile, and immediately knew this was the girl he was looking for. He didn’t even notice the cap covering her hair, the simple servant dress she was wearing, or her rough, tanned skin. All he saw was her beautiful smile.

Quickly the prince slid off the back of his horse and pushed his way through the crowd until he was standing right in front of the beautiful girl. He reached out and caught one of her hands, pressed it to his lips, then fell down on one knee and cried, "Beautiful lady, will you marry me? You are the most beautiful girl in the world, and I have loved you since I was a boy!"

The girl looked at him in amazement. "But I’m not beautiful," she whispered. "I don’t have beautiful clothes, or hair, or skin. I’m just a poor servant girl. You can’t be in love with me."

The prince stood up and gazed into the girls eyes. "You are the most beautiful girl in the world," he said. "I fell in love with you when I was a little boy, and the second I saw your smile I recognized you. I know you are as beautiful inside as you are outside, and you will make me a perfect queen. Please say you will marry me."

So the beautiful girl went back to the palace with the prince and became his wife, and they lived happily ever after, because she was as beautiful inside as out, and she made him the happiest man alive.

The End

The Christmas Spirit

2013-12-09T21:56:00.003-07:00

I am the Christmas Spirit—

I enter the home of poverty, causing palefaced children to open their eyes wide, in pleased wonder.

I cause the miser’s clutched hand to relax and thus paint a bright spot on his soul.

I cause the aged to renew their youth and to laugh in the old glad way.

I keep romance alive in the heart of childhood, and brighten sleep with dreams woven of magic.

I cause eager feet to climb dark stairways with filled baskets, leaving behind hearts amazed at the goodness of the world.

I cause the prodigal to pause a moment on his wild, wasteful way and send to anxious love some little token that releases glad tears—tears which wash away the hard lines of sorrow.

I enter dark prison cells, reminding scarred manhood of what might have been and pointing forward to good days yet to be.

I come softly into the still, white home of pain, and lips that are too weak to speak just tremble in silent, eloquent gratitude.

In a thousand ways, I cause the weary world to look up into the face of God, and for a little moment forget the things that are small and wretched.

I am the Christmas Spirit.

E. C. Baird

Just Remember - Chapter 6

2013-11-19T19:13:00.001-07:00

Chapter 6

Jesse moved on, even though the farmers begged him to live by them.

“I need to go home,” he thought, although he didn't really know where home was.

“You are a prince, the son of the King,” he told himself, so your home is the castle.” But somehow he didn't quite believe that anymore. “Your home is the castle IF you grow up to be like the King,” he reminded himself. “And a real king wouldn't live in a hut, or a cave, or the forest, and a real king wouldn't eat somebody's cow just because he was hungry.”

Without knowing it, Jesse traveled closer and closer to the place where his father's palace stood. One day as he walked over the top of a mountain, he saw far ahead of him the glint of sunshine on the top most spire of the castle.

“I want to go home,” Jesse cried, as tears came into his eyes. “But is that my home? Maybe I'm not really a prince, after all. Maybe I really am just the son of a thief, like Shiz always told me.”

Just then he heard a nasty laugh, and suddenly the wicked wizard was standing right in front of him.

“So, you've finally figured it out,” Shiz laughed. “I've told you from the beginning that you weren't really a prince! Now, maybe, you'll come to your senses and go back to where you belong. You could be great, you know, as the leader of the robbers!”

Jesse looked at Shiz, and felt the sickness in his stomach. But then the castle gleamed behind the wizard, and suddenly Jesse shouted, “No! I am not a robber! I am the son of the King!” The sick feeling in his stomach stopped hurting, and a warm glow began to fill his heart. “I don't belong with robbers, Shiz, and you know it, so stop telling me lies!”

Shiz looked angrily into Jesse's face, then suddenly he disappeared, and a huge, purple black dragon stood in front of Jesse.

“So you don't believe that you are really the son of a thief?” it roared, foul smelling black smoke billowing out of it's mouth. “Well, it doesn't matter, does it? Maybe you were the son of the King, once. But you haven't grown up to be like him, have you? The King doesn't steal, but you did. It doesn't matter who you are, you little wretch! You can never go home to live in the castle now, because you grew up to be nothing but a thief, and I've won!”

Jesse sank down to the ground in shame. Shiz was right. He hadn't grown up to be like the King, after all. A sharp, hard rock poked Jesse in the leg, and he grabbed it with his fist. “If only I hadn't taken that cow!” he moaned as squoze the rock with all his might, taking his anger out on it. “If only I had paid attention to the warning voice in my head.”

Jesse looked up again and saw the dragon growing bigger and more ferocious than ever. It's head rose higher and higher, swaying to and fro. It's beady little eyes glistened above it's long snout. Then he heard a swish of robes, and suddenly Emer was standing in front of him, shielding him from the awful sight of the dragon.

“The prince has not lost,” Emer said in a ringing voice, throwing his arms wide to protect Jesse behind him. “You have lost, Shiz. Jesse has proved himself to be every bit as good and noble and honorable as his father.”

“No!” roared the dragon, swinging his head back and forth to see behind his old enemy. “The boy has failed! He stole the cow. He is a thief, not a prince. I told you he would grow up to be just like the people he lived with. You stupid old man, love is not the most powerful thing in the world. Evil is!” And with a roar of rushing wind, the dragon breathed a great gush of fire out of his huge mouth. Hot, striking flames engulfed Emer in licking tongues of fire.

“No!” cried Jesse. “No!” But it was too late. The fire swallowed Emer whole, and in an instant he was gone.

“No!” screamed Jesse again, shaking with horror as he realized his best friend, his protector, his one true ally was dead.

Shakily he stood up and faced the dragon. “You have not won,” he told Shiz with a voice that rang with courage. “No matter how long you fight, I will never stop fighting back. I am a prince, my father is the King, and I will fight you until the day I die.”

“What for?” laughed Shiz. “You can never live in the castle now. You have lost, prince Jesse. You are nothing like your father. You are just a common, petty thief.”

“Maybe so,” answered Jesse. “Maybe I didn't act like my father when I took that cow, but I know better now, and I will never steal again. If I can't live in the castle, then I will stand out here, but I will never stop fighting you. You are not the strongest wizard, because I am a prince, the son of a king, and in the end, you will lose! Evil is not the strongest thing in the world, love is, and I loved Emer, and I love my father, and I will protect him and his people no matter what you do!”

Almost without thinking, Jesse raised his arm and threw the rock he was holding straight at Shiz. The dragon was tall, his head way up above the prince, but Jesse had grown strong from all his years of hard work, and the rock flew through the air with startling speed. It struck Shiz on the side of the head, just above one beady little eye, and with a howl the dragon fell backward, staggered, then slowly crashed to the ground.

Jesse couldn't believe his eyes. Had he really killed the dragon? Was Shiz really gone?

Suddenly there was a flash of bright, white light, and Emer was back, standing beside Jesse.

“You did it, you brave boy,” Emer praised.

Jesse looked at the dragon in unbelief, then at the wizard in wonder. “But how are you here?” He gasped. “I saw the dragon's fire swallow you whole!”

“Magic,” grinned Emer. “The most powerful magic in the world. Love.”

Suddenly the castle gate opened, and a rush of people streamed out.

“This is the prince,” Emer said loudly to the crowd of people. “Take him inside to the King.”

Jesse was pulled inside the castle and rushed to the thrown room, where his father, the King, waited.

“Your Majesty, this is your son, the prince,” Emer said. “He has come home.”

“Sire,” Jesse looked into the loving eyes of his father, then swallowed. “I am honored to stand here before you, but I am not worthy to be called a prince. I tried to live like you, but I failed.” He hung his head in shame.

The King looked at his son, but before he could say anything, Emer reached an arm around the prince and hugged him.

“Your Majesty,” Emer said with a smile. “This is your son, and he IS a prince. Shiz and I made the rules for the contest, which were that if Jesse grew up to be like you, he could come home. He made a mistake, but he learned from it. I paid the price for that mistake by letting Shiz kill me, but he never understood that love is the most powerful thing in the world, and it's magic is far stronger than his power of evil. Love won the contest, Your Majesty, and Jesse is more than worthy to be your son, he is a prince, and he belongs here in the castle.”

Jesse's father, the King, stood up, smiled, and opened his arms wide to welcome home his son.

The End

Just Remember - Chapter 5

2013-11-17T17:57:00.000-07:00

Chapter 5

Jesse packed the few things he had left that hadn't been smashed by the giant, and left the next day. He walked and walked, looking for a good place to live. Sometimes he stopped to help a farmer cut wood for the winter, or harvest some oats, but he didn't stay long. He didn't want anyone to have to take care of him, and he couldn't find anyplace that felt like home.

The next year Shiz found Jesse living in a cave on the side of a mountain. It was a lonely place, but there were plenty of animals to hunt in the forest, and he was warm and safe, even if the mountain did seem to rumble in the middle of the night sometimes.

“So, you've decided to live like your parents at last,” Shiz told the boy. “Robbers always live in caves, but you're not a very smart thief. You've got to choose a cave closer to people so you can steal from them.”

Jesse didn't even listen to the wizard. “Would you like some rabbit stew?” he offered politely, not because he liked Shiz, but because it was his habit to be nice.

“Rabbit stew!” yelled the wizard. “Rabbit stew? When you have all those cows on the other side of the mountain just waiting for you to eat them? What's wrong with you, boy? I thought you were supposed to be some kind of brave hero? Are you scared of stealing a little meat from the troll who keeps those cows? He isn't that big. I should think a great hero like you would want to free those cows so their owners could come and take them back.”

The next morning, Jesse asked Emer if he knew what Shiz was talking about.

“I think there is a troll who lives in a cave on the other side of this mountain, “Emer told him, “but I don't know if he stole any cows.”

Jesse wondered about the troll, and finally decided to go see for himself. Instead of hiking around the mountain, he climbed right over the top of it. From there he could see down into a pretty little valley, full of healthy looking cows.

“I wonder,” Jesse thought, “if the troll really did steal those cows? If he did, I bet their owners would be glad if I got them. They sure do look like good cows, and I bet they miss their meat, and the milk and cheese and butter they give”

Jesse sat on top of the mountain for a long time, until finally he came up with a plan.

“I'll walk over to the next town, and make sure the cows really are stolen, then I'll trick the troll and get them back,” he decided.

Jesse walked until he came to a farm. The farmer was out working in his field, so Jesse asked him if he had lost any cows?

“The troll stole them from me,” the farmer told him, “and I don't know how to get them back.”

Jesse visited all of the farmers, and each one told him the same thing. “I can help you,” he told the farmers when they gathered together to talk with him, “but you'll have to be ready to come get your cows when you hear my signal.”

“What is the signal?” the farmers wanted to know. “It needs to be something really loud so we can all hear it.”

“How about a horn?” one farmer suggested. “Some of our cows have huge horns. If you can get a cow away from the troll, you could cut off it's horn and blow that for the signal.”

Jesse thought that was a good idea, so he hiked back to the little green valley and snuck in during the middle of the night. Jesse could hear the troll's snorting snores echo out of his cave, so he knew he was asleep. Quietly he put a rope around the neck of a big old cow who had huge horns, and pulled it out of the valley, around the mountain, and tied it to a tree by his cave.

Jesse hadn't eaten anything since the day before, so by this time he was really hungry. “I'm too tired to go hunting,” he thought to himself, “and I'm going to need all my strength tomorrow when I take on that troll. I think the farmers will be so happy when they get their cows back they will want to pay me, so maybe it would be alright if I kill this big cow right now. It would make it easier to cut off his horn, and I can eat a big, juicy steak for my supper.”

As soon as the prince thought up this idea he got a funny feeling. It wasn't a nice, warm feeling in his heart, it was more like a sick feeling in his stomach.

“I'm just hungry,” he told himself, and he tried not to think about the little voice in his mind asking, “What would the King do?”

“I need to eat,” Jesse told himself instead, “and the farmers will want me to be strong tomorrow when I fight the troll.”

So Jesse killed the cow, cut off one of it's horns, then made a big fire to cook a steak for himself. As the wood crackled and the meat sizzled, he worked on the horn. He could smell the steak cooking, and it made his stomach rumble. Boy! It smelled good! But when he took it off the fire and put a big bite into his mouth, Jesse was a little disappointed. Somehow, it didn't taste as good as he'd expected, and the funny feeling in his stomach didn't go away.

When Jesse was done eating he went to work. He crawled into the back of his cave and put his ear against the dirt wall. Very faintly, he felt the mountain tremble, and he heard the snorting snores of the troll, sleeping in his cave on the other side.

Carefully and quietly Jesse began to move rocks and dirt out of the way, digging into the mountain like a gopher. The deeper he dug, the louder the snores of the troll grew, until at last Jesse pulled out a big rock and got a blast of hot troll breath and snores in his face.

“I'm through!” he thought as he quickly pushed the rock back into the hole so the troll wouldn't know what he'd done. Then Jesse waited for morning.

With the first rays of the morning sun, Jesse heard the troll stir.

“I bet he's hungry for his breakfast,” he thought.

Standing by the back wall of his tunnel, Jesse called, “Moooo, Moooo.” He knew he didn't really sound much like a cow, but he'd heard that trolls were pretty dumb, and he hoped he could fool this one.

He heard the troll stop moving, and he knew that he was listening.

“Moooo,” he called again.

“What the.....?” the troll's voice echoed through the cave. “How did a cow get in there?” Then Jesse heard the troll start digging away the dirt on his side of the cave.

“Moooo. Moooo,” Jesse called again, and he heard the troll push the big rock out of it's hole, and he saw the troll's ugly face poking out of the opening, looking for the lost cow.

You should have seen the look on the troll's face when he spied Jesse, standing off to the side of the tunnel, and you should have heard his yell when Jesse slipped his rope around the troll's head and tied him firmly to the boulders on either side of the opening.

Then Jesse ran down the tunnel, out of his cave, and grabbed the cow's horn. He blew as loud as he could. The farmers on the other side of the little green valley were listening for the signal, and as soon as they heard it they rushed into the meadow to round up their cows.

Of course, the troll had already eaten a bunch of cows, so not everyone got back all of their animals, and no one knew that Jesse had killed the big old cow the night before. But Jesse did.

After the farmers led their cows home and Jesse untied the troll - who ran away to find a different cave, one that didn't have a head-catching hole in the back of it -the farmers came to find Jesse and thank him for getting their cows back.

“Take as many cows as you want in payment,” they told him, just the way he knew they would. But Jesse said, “Thank you, but no. I don't want any more of your cows. I killed one last night, so I could get the horn, and I ate some of him. I'm sorry I did that, too. I shouldn't have killed your cow without asking.”

“That's alright,” they told him, but Jesse knew it wasn't. The sick feeling inside his stomach hadn't gone away when he filled it with food, and he knew it wasn't just from being hungry.

“You know you did something the King wouldn't have done,” the little voice in his head told him, and this time he listened.

Just Remember - Chapter 4

2013-11-16T22:37:00.002-07:00

Chapter 4

One morning, almost a year later, Jesse woke up with a start. What was happening? His hut shook, and Jesse jumped out of bed.

Thump, thump, thump! he heard as the hut rattled, Jesse ran to the door and looked out into the village. A terrible sight met his eyes. A huge giant, over sixteen feet tall, was thundering through town, grabbing chickens and goats and cows, stuffing them into his mouth and chomping down on them, blood drooling from his chin!

“Run!” Jesse heard people scream as he watched back doors burst open and whole families tear their way toward the edge of town and the tall trees of the forest where they could hide.

Thump! Thump! Thump! The giant smashed over fences and gardens and small buildings as his big feet stomped through town.

Jesse heard a terrified cry, and saw a father, on the edge of the forest, look back to see his little two year old daughter standing in the street, crying. Somehow she had been left behind as her family ran to safety.

The giant heard the child's cry, too. Jesse saw him drop the rooster he had grabbed from the top of a barn, and turn greedily to find where the crying came from.

“Ah ha!” he roared when he saw the tiny girl, and the giant turned towards the tasty morsel.

“No!” Jesse shouted in fear. He couldn't let the giant eat the little girl, but what could he do?

“You are a prince, the son of a king!” he told himself as he stood shaking in his front yard. “You have to do something to save that baby!” But what?

“What would the King do?” Jesse asked, and before he even answered he began running towards the giant, shouting, “Hey, you! You big, dumb old monster! You don't want to eat that little girl, she won't even make two mouthfuls! Come and catch me, if you can. I'm much juicier and crunchier and delicious!”

The giant stopped where he was and turned his head to see who was yelling at him. As soon as he saw Jesse, he changed directions and stomped toward him.

“Now what do I do?” Jesse thought as he saw how quickly the giant thundered through town.

There wasn't nearly enough time for Jesse to run to the forest, so he turned and ran the only way he could, toward the edge of the cliff and the deep canyon beyond.

The giant was nearly on him when he reached the rope fence he had made to protect Farmer Owen's sheep from falling over.

“Keep on the steady rocks,” he told himself as he scrambled over the huge boulders.

Jesse felt a rock wobble under his feet as he ran. Quickly he jumped off that boulder, and it crashed down into the canyon below. The giant, who didn't know which rocks were steady and which ones were loose, thumped his big feet onto a spot of loose boulders, and started to slide over the side of the cliff. Wildly grabbing at the steady rocks all around him, he teetered, but he was so heavy and big that the whole side of the cliff began to crumble away, rocks and dirt and the giant all falling down into the canyon below. Jesse grabbed onto the rope fence and held tight as the rocks and dirt fell, but the fence was strong and he was safe.

When the roaring of the rocks and the falling giant finally quieted, the hiding people peeked out of the forest and walked over to the side of the canyon. There was Jesse, hanging onto the rope fence, dangling over the side of the cliff. The villagers grabbed the rope and pulled Jesse back up to safety, hugging him and patting him on the back, thanking him for saving them from the giant.

Jesse smiled, but when he turned around and saw his tumbled down hut, destroyed by the giant, his knees began to shake. “I'm glad I didn't have time to think about what I was doing,” he thought to himself, “or I may not have had enough courage to act like a prince after all.”

That night Shiz came for his yearly visit. He found Jesse sleeping in Farmer Owen's barn.

“Are you crazy?” he yelled. “Why did you do such a stupid thing? Why didn't you run away like all the other people? You could have died! That giant could have eaten you! Don't you know what a fool you were, trying to save that little girl?”

Jesse cowered before the angry wizard, afraid to say anything until he stopped yelling. At last Shiz ran out of nasty names to call Jesse, and a wicked gleam began to shine in his eyes.

“But maybe you are craftier than I thought,” he finally said. “Maybe this was your plan all along. Now you are a hero! The villagers love you, and they will give you anything you want!”

“Oh, ho! You can use this, boy! You can tell them to give you the best house in payment for saving them, and make them give you food and drink and anything you want! You are a sly one, aren't you? I should have known you'd think like this. After all, you're the son of a robber!”

“No!” Jesse shouted back, then was terrified by the look in the wizard's eyes.

“No,” he said in a softer voice, but he wouldn't back down.

“I am not the son of a robber, and I didn't save the town so they would have to pay me, and I won't take their things from them. I am the son of a king, and I will act like one!”

Shiz flew at Jesse in a rage, shaking him and screaming, cursing him for being so stupid, but as he ranted and raved in the dark night, Jesse didn't listen. Inside, in his heart, he felt a warm glow, where he knew that he had not acted like a robber, but like the son of a king.

******************************

“I think I will have to leave this village,” Jesse told Esmer the following morning when the good wizard came to visit.

“The giant broke down my house, and I have nowhere to live. The villagers want to pay me for saving them, but they don't have enough food to take care of themselves now, after the giant stomped on everything, and they are really going to have a hard time this winter.”

Esmer smiled proudly at Jesse. “You are just like your father,” he told the boy. “I am so proud of you. But where will you go, Your Majesty?”

“I don't know,” Jesse answered. “Someplace where people won't think they have to take care of me, I guess.”

Just Remember, Chapter 3

2013-11-14T12:16:00.000-07:00

Chapter 3

Jesse worked hard at being a friend to the people in his village. He put up a strong, rope fence along the cliff, to keep Farmer Owen's sheep from falling over. He helped his neighbors in their gardens, and slowly he made friends with the other children in the village.

When he was ten years old Shiz came to visit, and he yelled, “Why are you are still living in this stinking little hut, all by yourself? Are you stupid, or what? Why haven't you gone to the caves to live with the robbers? They have all the food they need, and they would welcome you! If you ate meat every meal and drank their wine you would become the strongest robber of all!”

But when Emer came to visit he said, “Your majesty, you are getting bigger and more like your father every day.”

“Shiz says I would be the strongest robber if I lived with them and ate like them,” Jesse said.

“Do you want to be the strongest robber?”

Jesse thought for awhile, then said, “I would like to be big and strong, but I want to be a prince, not a robber.”

Emer smiled. “Well said, Your Majesty. You already are a prince, you always have been, and you act like one, too. I know you would like to have people look up to you and be your friends, but choose how you do that. Remember, love is the most powerful thing in the world. If you try to make people be your friends by being the strongest and the most powerful, in the end you won't have any friends at all. How do you suppose the King treats his subjects?”

“He loves them?” asked Jesse.

“Yes, and what does that mean?”

“He helps them, and does nice things for them?”

“Yes! Spoken like a true king!” Emer praised.

“But, what about being strong?” asked Jesse. “Is my father strong?”

“Very,” answered Emer. “But he doesn't get strong from eating lots of meat and drinking wine. If he did that, in the end it would make him weak.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You can poison your body with food and drink, you know.”

“Poison?” gasped the prince.

“Yes, poison. The King is very careful that he only puts good, wholesome things into his body.”

“Like what?” Jesse asked.

“Like vegetables and fruit and good breads and cereals. He eats meat, but not a lot of it, and he drinks plenty of good, clear water, but never wine or liquor. That is one of the worst poisons of all.”

“But I thought wine was made from grapes and fruit,” Jesse said.

“It is, but the good juice has been changed until it has turned into poison.”

“But poison will kill you!”

“Not always,” Emer said. “Sometimes it will just kill little parts of your brain. You won't die from it unless you get too much, but the part of your brain that warns you to be careful and helps you make good choices will be hurt.”

“Then why would anybody drink it?” Jesse wanted to know.

“Because when the poison kills part of their brain it also makes them feel good. It makes them forget their problems, and makes them feel smarter, or stronger, or braver than they really are. Anything that changes how you feel or think is dangerous, and you need to stay away from it. It may be poison.”

Jesse looked long and hard at Emer, trying to understand what he said. “How will I know what not to eat or drink?”

“You will know here,” Emer told him gently, patting him over his heart, “and here,” he added, touching his forehead with his finger. “You are a prince, the son of a king. If you listen to the little voice inside it will warn you what is poison.”

“There is something else you need to know,” Emer added. “Poisons that kill your brain aren't always just food or drink. There are other ways to put things inside your body.”

“Like Farmer Owen's pipe?” asked Jesse thoughtfully. “The smoke goes into his body.”

“Yes it does,” said Emer. “And it changes how he feels, which is why he does it. That is a kind of poison, too. But there are other poisons that get inside you without even coming through your mouth. Can you think of a way something gets in you without going through your mouth or nose?”

Jesse thought and thought, but he couldn't figure out what Emer was talking about. How could something get inside him without his eating or breathing it? What kind of poison could get into his mind to kill his brain? Then suddenly, he had the answer.

“When I see things they get into my brain,” he told Emer. “Can poison get inside me through my eyes?”

“Yes!” Emer beamed at the prince. “There are things we see, and then think about, that can poison our brain.”

“And we know they are poison because they change the way we think and feel!” exclaimed Jesse.

“Right. Just like there are good things we eat that make us strong and healthy, there are good things we see that make us feel safe and loved, but there are other things we see or think about that make us feel bad. And there are some things that are poison and will kill the part of our brain that tells us what is right or wrong.”

“What are the poisonous things we shouldn't look at?” asked Jesse.

“Evil pictures,” Emer told him, “of people doing bad things. As you get older, boys may try to get you to look at pictures of girls wearing bad clothes or sometimes not wearing any clothes at all. They will laugh and tell you it is cool to look at them, but don't. Those pictures are poison, and they will hurt you!”

Should I not look at pictures of girls at all?” asked Jesse.

“No, it's fine to see some things,” Emer smiled. “Whenever I see a picture of a mother holding a little baby, it makes me feel extra special love in my heart. But if you see something that makes you feel uneasy, look away fast! And don't look back. That is poison! Remember, don't let yourself think about things that are evil, either. Always ask yourself, would my father look at or think about this, and you will know what to do.”

“OK,” Jesse said.

“Sometimes, you will see or hear about bad things anyway, even when you are trying not to,” Emer added. “It won't be your fault, but they will still get inside your head.”

“Oh, no,” wailed Jesse. “Then I won't be like my father!”

“Yes you will,” Emer told him, “If you look away and don't let yourself keep thinking about those things. It will be hard, but make yourself think about good things, and the bad stuff won't be able to stay inside your mind to poison it, after all.”

“And never forget,” he added as he pulled Jesse closer and hugged him. “Love is still the most powerful thing in the world. It will help protect you from poison, just like it will make you feel good and safe and happy. So if something doesn't make you feel love in here,” and he patted the boy over his heart,” stay away from it!”

Just Remember - chapter 2

2013-11-10T20:35:00.000-07:00

Chapter 2

The next time Shiz came to visit he was angry to find Jesse still living in the hut in the village.

“What's wrong with you, you little wretch?” he cried. “Why are you still living here with this old woman? Does she feed you? Does she keep you warm? It's time you left! You are big now, you don't have to wait for someone else to take care of you anymore, unless you are afraid!”

“I'm not afraid,” Jesse told Shiz. “I stay here because I love the old woman, and I want to take care of her.”

Shiz looked hard at Jesse. “How can you love that old woman?” he asked sharply. “She doesn't love you! She doesn't even want you here. She only keeps you because you do her work for her. Don't you know that you will never get anywhere in this world by taking care of other people? You have to take care of yourself!”

When Emer came the next morning he found Jesse deep in thought.

“Your Majesty,” he greeted the boy, giving him a big hug. “I am so proud of you and the way you take care of the old woman. You act just like your father, the King,”

“Shiz says I should take care of myself, too,” Jesse told Emer. “He says if I don't take care of myself, no one else will.”

“What do you think the King would do?” Emer asked the boy.

“I think he would stay here and take care of the old woman,” Jesse said finally. “But I wish we had more food to eat. Would a prince really live like this?”

“Not usually,” Emer told him. “Most of the time princes live in castles and their fathers take care of them. Some day, when you grow up, you will live in the castle with your father. But right now you get to prove how much you are like him by taking care of the old woman. Maybe you could help her plant a bigger garden, so you could grow more food.”

Jesse worked hard gathering wood and taking care of the garden so he and the old woman would have enough food. He worked so hard he didn't have time to play with the other children in the village, but at least he wasn't hungry or cold any more.

Sometimes, when the kids saw him working in the garden, they would laugh at him and call him names. It made him sad that he didn't have any friends, but then he thought, “I am the son of the King, and I am doing what a prince would do.” That made him feel warm and better inside.

When Jesse was nine years old his foster mother died. That made him very sad, because he had learned to love her while he took care of her. That year when Shiz visited, the wicked wizard yelled and screamed.

“Look how skinny you are!” he said. “What's wrong with you? Are you too scared to take care of yourself? I see the sheep on the edge of the cliff. Why don't you steal them? They could fall over anyway. No one would know you killed them! If you don't start eating right you will never grow big and strong!”

When Emer came the next day, he could see that Jesse was sad. He hugged the boy tightly, and asked him what was wrong.

“Shiz says I should eat more meat,” Jesse told Emer. “He says I won't grow up big and strong if I don't take care of myself, and that I should either steal some of farmer Owen's sheep, or I should leave this village and go into the mountains to live with the robbers. Doesn't a king need to be strong?”

“Yes,” Emer told him. “A king should be strong, for sure. And healthy. What do you think your father would do?”

“I don't know,” sighed the boy. “I know he wouldn't steal the sheep.”

“You see,” Emer smiled at him, “you already think like a king. I am so proud of you. You know, Jesse, there are lots of ways to become strong. Just eating meat won't give you strength.”

“Shiz says I should live with the robbers in their caves because they can teach me how to be really strong,” Jesse said. “He says they are strong because they eat lots of meat, and drink wine.”

“Oh,” Emer said. “Yes, the robbers do eat lots of meat, and drink lots of wine, and some of them are very strong, but I don't think that's the reason why. Strong men are usually the ones who work the hardest.”

“Does wine make you strong?” Jesse wanted to know.

“It makes you think you are strong,” Emer told him. “There are things that can fool people into believing they are good for them, but really they aren't.”

“How will I know if something is bad for me?” Jesse asked.

“You have a warning voice inside that will help you know when something is going to hurt you,” Emer told him. “It's the same voice that tells you who you really are. When you get a feeling that something is bad, listen to that feeling, and you'll be OK.”

Emer looked at Jesse's sad face, and asked, “What else is bothering you, Your Majesty?”

“Shiz says I should go live with the robbers so I won't have to live all alone,” he finally told the wizard.

“You would like to have some friends, wouldn't you,” Emer said kindly. “It is hard to be lonely, isn't it?”

“Yes,” Jesse admitted. “The kids in our village won't play with me, they laugh and call me names. I tried to tell them I was really the son of the King, but that made them laugh even more. They said if I was the King's son, he would come and take me to his castle.”

“How do you feel in here?” Emer asked the boy, patting him over his heart?

“I don't know,” Jesse cried. “Just kind of lonely, and scared.”

“Shh,” Emer whispered. “Be still and listen to your heart.” He pulled the boy up onto his lap, even though Jesse was too big to be held anymore, and hugged him. “How do you really feel in your heart?”

“I feel warmer,” Jesse finally said, “and safe.”

“Who does your heart say you are?” asked Emer.

“I am a prince, the son of a king!”

Emer smiled. “There will always be people who tell you that you are nobody, and it will hurt, but if you listen to your heart, you will know who you really are.”

“I wish people liked me,” Jesse said.

“It is is good to have friends,” Emer agreed. “but the best way to have people like you is to be a friend to them.”

“How?”

“What would the King do?”

Jesse thought for awhile, then finally said, “Maybe help them?”

Emer nodded. “You know, Jesse, people don't love the King because he is the king. They love him because he takes good care of them. Being a king means you are the servant for all the people in your kingdom, and you have to work harder than anyone else to take care of them. What do you suppose you could do to help the people here, in your village?”

Jesse thought for a long time. Finally he looked up at Emer and said, “Well, there is Farmer Owen. His sheep keep getting close to the edge of the cliff, and sometimes they fall over. Maybe I could make a fence to keep them safe.”

Emer smiled. “Now that is exactly something the King would do! I am so proud of you, Jesse,” and he hugged the boy again. It felt good, and Jesse couldn't help remembering what Emer always told him, “The most powerful thing in the world is love.”

Just Remember, Chapter 1 continued

2013-11-08T21:31:00.000-07:00

Chapter 2

By the time Jesse was seven, he had grown into a fine boy. He was tall for his age and stronger than the older boys because he worked so hard to help his foster mother. He was also a very good boy, because he wanted to be like his father, the king.

That year, when Shiz came to visit him, he glared at Jesse.

“Why are you still living here with this old woman?” he wanted to know. “Why haven't you run away and gone to live in the mountains with the thieves and robbers? That's who you are, you know. Your father was a thief, and you will grow up to be one, too.”

The little boy stared at the evil wizard in horror. Was this true? Was his father really a thief?

“Emer told me I was really a prince, the son of the king,” he told Shiz.

“A prince?” the wizard laughed. “Ha! Why would a prince live in a hut like this? If you are a prince why doesn't the king come and take you home to his palace? Look at you! You aren't a prince, you're nothing but a skinny, worthless thief, the son of a robber. Look around you! You live in a hut, you have nothing to eat, and it's freezing in here. Why don't you at least have a big fire to keep you warm?”

“We don't have enough wood,” the boy said.

“Then, get some!” roared the wizard. “I've seen the wood piles of your neighbors. Go out and steal wood from them while they are sleeping! You will never have enough of what you need if you don't take it for yourself!”

The next day when Emer came, Jesse said, “Shiz told me I should run away and live with the robbers. But I don't want to,” he added before Emer could say anything. “I just don't want to live here. Couldn't I run away and go back to the castle to live?”

Emer smiled at the boy and ruffled his hair. He was so pleased with the way the young prince was growing.

“I know it's hard living here,” Emer said, “but you can't go home to live in the castle until you grow up and prove you are worthy to be a king.”

“How soon will that be?” Jesse wanted to know.

“Not for a long time,” Emer said. “I'm sorry, Jesse. But I am so proud of you! You know, you look just like your daddy when he was a little boy.”

“Really?” Jesse asked. He loved to think about the king, and it made him feel good to think he looked like him.

“Really,” Emer told him, ruffling his dark hair and hugging Jesse tightly.

“Emer, do you think it would it be OK if I took a little wood from our neighbors so we could have a bigger fire?” Jesse asked hopefully.

“You're the son of the king,” Emer told Jesse. “Do you think that's what a prince would do?”

Jesse shook his head slowly.

“Never forget, Jesse, that you are loved and wanted. You can feel that deep down inside, can't you?”

Jesse thought for a moment, and he did feel something warm and comfortable inside his chest.

“Love is the most powerful thing in the world,” Emer told Jesse as he pulled him close and hugged him tightly. “Always remember that. A King is honest, Jesse. He doesn't take things, he gives. The King's job is to take care of his people, and make sure they are safe and comfortable. Tell me, Jesse, do you think there is a way you could get more wood for your fire without stealing?”

“The men in the village go into the forest to cut down big trees for their fires,” the little boy told Emer. “But I am too small, and I don't have an ax, so I have to gather wood around our house. There isn't much here, since we live next to the canyon. I'm afraid to go too close to the edge. I don't want to fall over.”

“If you are careful, you should be able to gather the wood among the boulders above the cliff,” Emer said after thinking for awhile. “I think you are big and smart enough to go close to the canyon, just watch where you walk. If a rock is loose, don't climb on it. Stay on the steady boulders and you will be safe.”

So Jesse began to gather wood along the edge of the canyon.. At first he was a little frightened, because the canyon was deep and he was afraid he might fall over the side of the cliff, but little by little he got braver and braver as he learned which rocks were steady and which ones were loose.

Just Remember - Chapter 1

2013-11-07T14:37:00.000-07:00

Jesse's earliest memories were of the two wizards who visited him once a year. It frightened him when the evil wizard, Shiz came. He was tall and mean, and he always came during the middle of the night, when it was dark and cold.

“You're a little wretch,” the wizard told the small boy, and he sneered when Jesse stared at him with fright. “Look at you, you skinny little crybaby! I can't believe anyone wants you to live with them. Why haven't they sent you off to live with the robbers, yet? That's where you belong!”

On the other hand, Jesse loved Emer's visits. He always came early in the morning, and he'd spend the whole day holding the child, loving and hugging him and calling him “Your majesty,” and “Sire.”

“You don't really belong here in this village,” Emer told Jesse. “You are really the son of the king, you are a prince, and some day, if you live well and stay as good as you are now, you will go home and live with your father in his castle.”

That made Jesse happy. It would be nice to live in a palace with plenty of food, warm clothes, and a father who loved him. The little hut he lived in was not a very nice place, and the old woman who took care of him was not very loveable.

When the wizards took Jesse away from the castle, they dropped him off on the edge of a poor, tiny village. An old woman found him, and took him to her hut, but not because she felt sorry for the little boy. She just thought it would be good to have someone to take care of her. She was a crabby, unloving old thing, and the little boy was often sad and lonely, as well as cold and hungry.

“Steal food out of the cupboard when the old woman is asleep,” Shiz told Jesse when he came to visit. “She is almost blind, and deaf. She won't catch you!”

But Emer said, “You are a prince. I know you are hungry, but a king wouldn't steal food. Instead, help the old woman work in the garden so she can grow more food. That's what your father would do. Always remember, love is the most powerful thing in the world. If you treat the old woman with love, you will feel safe and warm in here,” and he tapped the little boy on the chest, over his heart. “You really will.”

Just Remember - Prologue

2013-11-06T19:16:00.001-07:00

Prologue

Once upon a time, back in the days when magic was still on the earth, there was an evil wizard named Shiz. He was very powerful, and mean and wicked. Shiz wanted to rule the world, and everyone in it.

Shiz believed he was the most powerful wizard on the earth, and he believed that everyone was just like him, mean and evil and selfish.

There was another wizard who lived at the same time, who was also very powerful. His name was Emer. Emer was a good wizard, not like Shiz. He didn't use his magic to force people to do what he wanted. He was good and kind, and always tried to help people and make them happier. Emer believed that inside, most people were good, like him, and if they were left to themselves they would try to help each other and be kind and nice.

Shiz hated Emer. He wanted to prove that he was the most powerful wizard, and he challenged Emer to all kinds of duels and contests, but no matter how hard he fought, he could never prove that evil was more powerful than good.

At last, Shiz came up with a plan.

“We'll kidnap the kings son,” he said, “and take him far away from the palace and everything he knows. If, like you say, people are really good inside, then it won't matter where the prince is raised. He will still grow up to be kind and honorable, just like his father, and you will win. I'll admit that good is the most powerful force in the world and I'll leave this earth and never come back.”

“But, if I am right and people are really bad and evil, the little boy will grow up to be like the people he lives with, and it will prove that evil is more powerful. Then you will have to leave.”

“What will happen to the prince after he grows up?” Emer wanted to know.

“That depends,” Shiz told him. “If he grows up like his father, and is good and kind and just, even without his dad around to teach him, then when he is big he can go back to his father's palace and live with him forever, and everything his father owns will belong to him. But, if he isn't really good inside, if he grows up to be a normal person who lies and cheats and thinks only about himself, then when he is big he won't belong in a castle anyway, and will have to live with the common people.”

Emer thought about this plan. He hated to take the prince away from his father, but he really did believe that good was stronger than evil, and that the most powerful force in the world was love.

“All right,” he finally said. “I'll agree to your contest, but on one condition. While the prince is living away from his father, once a year we will each get to visit him.”

Shiz laughed. This was one of the stupid things Emer believed, that love would take care of everything, and if someone knew who they were, really knew it, then they would become that person. Shiz knew that no matter what Emer told the child during his visits, it wouldn't be enough to make him grow up like a king, so he agreed, and the contest began.

French Silk Pie

2013-11-01T17:27:00.003-07:00

When I first moved to Snowflake we lived across the street from a sweet, older lady who was loosing her eye sight. One day she asked me if to help her set the temperature on her stove. She was baking biscuits for a 911 commemorative breakfast the next day, and she couldn't see to set the dial high enough.

After that I made up my mind to go over and visit with her every few weeks, and we always ended up talking about food. During our first visit she told me that she had collected recipes for many years, and had even published a cook book. One of her favorite recipes was for French Silk Pie. My new friend fondly described the first time she had tasted a French Silk Pie at a fancy restaurant, and then how she had searched for years to find the recipe because it was so good. It sounded delicious, so she told me how to make it.

The next time I visited, my friend asked if I had tried making a French Silk Pie. I had to admit I hadn't. We talked again about how it melted in your mouth and tasted amazing, and this time she even gave me a copy of her cookbook so I would have the recipe right in front of me. I went home thinking about that pie, and even skimmed through the cook book, but I didn't get around to looking up the French Silk Pie recipe.

Next visit we talked about the pie again, and I made excuses for why I hadn't tried it, but I felt bad. As soon as I got home I got out the cook book and looked for the recipe for French Silk Pie. It looked easy, except it called for 3 oz of unsweetened chocolate, which I never had on hand, so I couldn't make it. I did buy a box of unsweetened chocolate the next time I went to the store, but I still didn't get around to making the pie.

I took a plate of Christmas cookies over to my friend the next time I visited, and she asked if I'd tried the pie. I had to make excuses again, but told her I really was going to make it soon. A couple of days before Christmas we had guests over for dinner, and I wanted to make something special for them. I remembered the pie, so I decided to try making one. It was so easy, I was really surprised, but I was totally amazed when we cut it that night and I put the first bite in my mouth. Oh, my goodness! It did melt in your mouth, and it was yummy!

I made more pies for Christmas dinner, and more again for New Years, and have been making French Silk Pie for every special occasion since. I love it! But it made me think. How many other things in life have I put off doing, just like baking that pie, only to discover when I finally got around to it how wonderful it was, and wish I hadn't procrastinated so long?

French Silk Pie

1 baked pie crust 3 squares (1 oz each) unsweetened chocolate

1 C powdered sugar 3 eggs

3/4 C softened butter (not margarine!) 1 tsp vanilla

Bake pie shell; cool. Beat powdered sugar and butter in bowl until light and fluffy.

Melt chocolate in small bowl in microwave for 1 minute, take out and stir. If not

fully melted, put back in for 30 seconds at a time until melted. Stir in vanilla and

stir until cooled. Beat chocolate into butter. Beat in eggs, one at a time.

Pour into pie shell and refrigerate 3 to 4 hours. Can be topped with whipped cream

or eaten plain, either way it is delicious!

Comfortable

2013-10-23T13:45:00.001-07:00

Once there were two sisters whose parents died. They were left the family ranch, but it wasn't doing so good. The sisters, one blonde and one brunette, decided the best thing they could do was buy a bull and start breeding cattle. They only had $600, so they watched the newspapers until they found an add for a bull that was being sold at a ranch on the other side of the state. The sisters decided they should check it out, so the brunette took a bus to the distant ranch, telling her sister that if it turned out to be a good deal she would wire her to drive out and haul them home.

The brunette found that the bull was really good and the rancher only wanted $599 for him. She hurried into town to send her sister a telegram.
"I need to send a wire to my sister," she told the telegraph operator. "It has to say that I bought a bull, and now my sister needs to hook up the trailer to the pickup and drive out here so she can haul us home."

The telegraph operator said he could easily send a telegram to the sister, but it would cost $1 a word. The brunette had just paid $599 for the bull. She only had $1 left, so she thought about it for a minute. How could she send only one word to her sister? Finally she told the telegraph operator to send the word "comfortable."

The telegraph operator scratched his head and asked, "How is your sister going to know that you want her to hitch the trailer to your pickup and drive out here to haul that bull back to your ranch if you send her just the word, comfortable?"

The burnette smiled. "Well, my sister is a blonde," she explained. "Comfortable is a big word, so she will read it very slowly..... Com-for-da-bull."

The Next Town

2013-10-21T09:37:00.002-07:00

A Folk Tale About Worlds A traveler came upon an old farmer hoeing in his field beside the road. Eager to rest his feet, the wanderer hailed the countryman, who seemed happy enough to straighten his back and talk for a moment.
"What sort of people live in the next town?" asked the stranger.
"What were the people like where you've come from?" replied the farmer, answering the question with another question.
"They were a bad lot. Troublemakers all, and lazy too. The most selfish people in the world, and not a one of them to be trusted. I'm happy to be leaving the scoundrels."
"Is that so?" replied the old farmer. "Well, I'm afraid that you'll find the same sort in the next town."
Disappointed, the traveler trudged on his way, and the farmer returned to his work.
Some time later another stranger, coming from the same direction, hailed the farmer, and they stopped to talk. "What sort of people live in the next town?" he asked.
"What were the people like where you've come from?" replied the farmer once again.
"They were the best people in the world. Hard working, honest, and friendly. I'm sorry to be leaving them."
"Fear not," said the farmer. "You'll find the same sort in the next town."

How to Get to Heaven

2013-10-17T16:49:00.000-07:00

My parents were a good example of a happily married couple. They were married for almost 58 years, and although they didn’t agree on everything, I don’t remember ever hearing them argue. Once in awhile I could tell they were unhappy with each other because of the tension in the air, but still they were polite.

Very often it is the wife who works hardest keeping the peace and giving in rather than fighting, but in my parents case dad also tried.

When I was older dad told me about a time early in their marriage that changed the way he treated mom. They had had a disagreement that made him really mad. After arguing during the day he went to bed that night fuming, knowing he was right and that she had better repent or she would never make it to heaven.

“I woke up in the middle of the night with a start,” dad told me. “I don't know if I'd just had a really vivid dream, or if the Lord actually spoke to me, but I remembered clearly these words:

“Even if Eleanor is wrong, it doesn’t matter. Unless you make her happy you won’t go to heaven!”

After that, even though dad wasn’t perfect, he made up his mind to make mom as happy as he could the rest of his life. And he really did.

The Present

2013-10-15T08:05:00.000-07:00

It was the end of the school year, and a kindergarten teacher was receiving gifts from her students. The florist’s son handed her a present. She shook it, held it overhead, and said, “I bet I know what this is. Some flowers?”

“That’s right,” the little boy replied, “but how did you know?”

“Oh, I'm just a good guesser,” the teacher answered.

The next student was a candy shop owner’s daughter. The teacher held her gift overhead, shook it, and said, “I bet I can guess what this is. A box of sweets?”

“That’s right, teacher, but how did you know?” asked the little girl.

“Oh, just a wild guess,” said the teacher.

The next gift was from the son of a liquor store owner. The teacher held the package overhead, but it was leaking. She touched a drop of the liquid with her finger and licked it. “Is it wine?” she asked the little boy with a big smile.

“No.” the boy replied happily.

The teacher repeated the process, taking a larger drop of the leakage to her tongue. “Is it champagne?” she asked.

“No,” the boy replied, grinning even bigger.

The teacher took one more taste before declaring, “I give up, what is it?”

With glee, the little boy replied, “It’s a puppy!”

The Zipper

2013-10-07T15:32:00.000-07:00

A couple had a real humdinger of a fight one day, and stopped talking to each other for a whole week. By Saturday they were still mad, but the wife had a meeting in the afternoon which she had to attend. As she dressed, she found she couldn’t reach her zipper and needed her husband’s help. Not about to talk to him, she motioned with her hands until he got the point. As he zipped her up, the husband jabbed the zipper into his wife's back a couple of times, just to let her know that he was still mad.

When the wife got home a few hours later she saw her husband’s car in the driveway with his legs sticking out underneath it. Burning with righteous indignation over his cruelty earlier in the day, she reached down and grabbed his zipper as she passed, jabbing it in a couple of times to get back at her husband. Vindicated, she walked on into the house, where she got the shock of her life when she saw her husband sitting at the kitchen table drinking a glass of water!

“Who was that man out under your car?” she gasped.

Surprised she was talking to him, her husband replied, “Our new neighbor. He offered to take at look the leak under my car.”

Horrified, the wife told him what she had done, and her husband ran outside to try to explain to his neighbor why someone had just jabbed him with his zipper. He called his friend’s name but know one answered, so the husband bent down and looked under the car. There lay the neighbor, unconscious. The poor fellow had been so surprised when a strange woman jabbed him with his zipper that he sat straight up, hit his head on the car, and knocked himself out cold!

Needless to say, this couple never gave each other the silent treatment ever again.

What a Difference Six Months Can Make!

2013-10-06T15:56:00.001-07:00

One day a woman went to see her lawyer.

“I want you to draw up divorce papers for me,” she begged in desperation. “I have put up with my husband as long as I possibly can, but I can't go on like this any longer! I am married to the most despicable, mean, ornery, selfish person you've ever known, and I want you to make him pay for all the years of misery he has put me through!”

Her lawyer smiled and assured her that he could draw up the divorce papers right then. “But,” he cautioned the woman, “if you divorce your husband immediately, I suspect it won't cause him too much grief. He'll probably be just as happy to see you go.”

“On the other hand,” he suggested, “if you could possibly endure another six months, I think I know how to make him really miserable.”

“What do I have to do?” the woman asked skeptically.

“Well, I suggest you spend the next six months really spoiling your husband,” the lawyer told her. “Do everything you can to make him happy. Make his favorite foods, keep the house spotless, agree with him in everything, tell him how wonderful he is, how much you admire him, and what a great man he is. Then, at the end of six months when he is totally convinced that he can't live without you, drop the bomb and tell him you are leaving him. It will devastate him!”

The woman thought about it for a little while, but she could see the wisdom in the lawyers advice, so she agreed. For the next six months she worked as hard as she could to spoil, baby, and butter-up her husband. She was as sweet and loving as it was possible for her to be, even going so far as to meet him at the front door every evening with his newspaper in one hand and his slippers in the other. She really laid it on thick.

At the end of six months the lawyer called the woman on the phone. “I have the papers all ready to serve your husband,” he told her confidentially. “When do you want to divorce him?”

“Divorce my husband?” the woman gasped in dismay. “No way! I would never let that man go. He has turned into the sweetest, kindest, most lovable husband in the world. Tear up the papers! I don't want a divorce!”

And so you see what a difference six months can make. And maybe a few other changes, as well.

Doilies

2013-10-03T15:40:00.000-07:00

Doilies

One day a young cowboy married his sweetheart. On their wedding night the new bride put a shoe box on the top shelf of their closet and asked her husband to never look in it. Of course he wanted to please his wife so he agreed, and soon he forgot all about the box.

Years passed. Eventually they grew old and the wife was sick and dying. One day the old cowboy was looking for something in the closet and he stumbled across the shoe box. He decided the time had come to talk to his wife about it, so he brought the box to her bed.

“Ethel, sweetheart,” he began, “this box has been on the top shelf of our closet since the day we married. I’ve never looked in it, but now I think you should tell me about it.”

Ethel smiled tiredly, patted the bed, and motioned for her husband to sit next to her. When he was settled she carefully removed the top of the box. Inside was a little yarn, a crochet hook, 3 doilies, and $5000. The old cowboy looked for a second, then turned to his wife with questioning eyes.

“Honey,” Ethel explained, “on the day we married my mother gave me this box and suggested that every time I got mad at you I should release my anger by crocheting.”

The old cowboy looked at the three doilies, then back at his wife with moist eyes. “You mean you have only been mad at me three times in all these years? But, where did the $5000 come from?”

“Oh, that’s how much money I made selling the doilies,” his wife answered.

Darn Those Bran Muffins!

2013-10-02T17:52:00.001-07:00

Once upon a time an elderly couple died and went to Heaven. St. Peter met them at the Pearly Gates and welcomed them in, then told them to follow him and he would take them to their eternal reward.

He led them down a beautiful tree lined street, past mansion after mansion, until at last he stopped in front of one of the most beautiful estates in heaven.

"This is your eternal reward," he told the couple. "Would you like to come in and see it?"

"Boy, would we!" they both declared.

So St Peter walked them up the flower lined walk, past ornate gardens and fountains bordered with tall trees and lush grass. The front doors of the mansion were solid gold, and St. Peter pushed them open and led them inside their new home. There were hundreds of rooms inside, all filled with beautiful art, antiques, and wonderful furnishings. Each room they examined caused the couple to oooohhh and ahhhhhh, until they came to the jacuzzi room next to their huge bedroom. When they saw it the wife had to sit down and catch her breath. Neither of them could believe what they were seeing.

After examining the entire house St. Peter told them to follow him outside to see the wonders of their back yard. Beyond the pool and tennis courts they could see an 18 hole golf course waiting for them to play.

When he saw his own golf course, the elderly man turned to his wife in frustration and exclaimed, "Darn you, Mable! If it hadn't been for your bran muffins we could have been here 10 years ago!"

Holy Women

2013-09-27T11:59:00.000-07:00

What Would A Holy Woman Do?

That afternoon I got a message from a young woman I once knew. She wrote:

“I thought of this when I was outside playing with the other moms and their babies in my ward. I thought that a holy woman would enjoy those little happy moments and share a smile with the people she is around. Thanks for the challenge yesterday. Hopefully I will remember again and do better today. :)”

Maybe my experiment was making a difference for other people, too.

The third day I decided to try studying my scriptures like a holy woman would. I always try to read scriptures for half an hour every day, but sometimes it's hard to focus, and I feel like I'm just going through the motions. On this day I started out like always, wondering what I should read, when the thought came, “Why not study the Sunday School lessons you are missing?” A few months ago I began teaching a Sunday School class for a young man who has severe autism. It's just Victor and me in our class, and I have enjoyed getting to know him and trying to prepare simple lessons that he can understand, but I no longer get to attend the adult Sunday School class. But just because I wasn't in class didn't mean I shouldn't still be studying the lessons, right? So I found the adult Sunday School lesson schedule and used it to guide my scripture study. What a difference it made to have something specific to study. I think a holy woman would study her scriptures with purpose, not just randomly.

“I have loved reading your posts! You always inspire me. Well tonight I finally did something as a holy woman. I got home around 8:00 and dishes were piled high in the sink (as they always are :)) With a heavy sigh, I turned on the faucet and started washing the dishes with a frown on my face and negative thoughts swarming in my head UNTIL I thought of you and asked myself, "What would a holy woman do?" The answer came to sing hymns and so I did. I sang hymns and not just in my head but at the top of my lungs with all of my heart (regardless of who heard me) and it made my frown turn into a smile. Thank you for making a dreaded ritual a happy moment. :)

After my three day experiment ended, I reflected on how I wanted to continue trying to be a holy woman, afraid that I would eventually forget as life went on. What could I do to remind myself? Then a light went on inside my brain. That's what taking the Sacrament on Sunday is for! Every week I get to reflect on my actions, review in my mind what I have done, and haven't done, repent, and then recommit myself to being a true disciple of Christ, a holy woman.

In her book about being holy women, Wendy Nelson sighted two scriptures that touched me. The first one was in D&C 46:9, where the Lord tells us that he gives us gifts for the benefit of those who love him and keep all his commandments, but then he adds,
"AND HIM THAT SEEKETH SO TO DO"
He knows we can't be perfect all the time. What matters is that we want to be, and that we are trying to do His will.

Add to that D&C 60:7, where the Lord says " .....For I am able to make you holy, and your sins are forgiven you," and what do I have left to worry about? I don't have to make myself holy, that's what the atonement is for. I just have to desire it, and try my best. He makes up the difference.

My Glasses

2013-09-24T19:30:00.000-07:00

I had a whole list of projects to do in our yard today, starting with digging out my compost pit, cutting down the low growing branches behind it, and I clearing an area where I could plant a baby apple tree I'd raised from a seed.

It wasn't long before my glasses got smudged and dirty, making them glare in the sunshine until I couldn't see. Not wanting to stop work long enough to take them to the house, I put my glasses on top of my head and kept working.

It was a couple of hours later when I suddenly realized that my glasses were not on my head. Hopelessly I retraced my steps, searching everywhere I'd worked, but the glasses were not there.

Maybe they fell into the compost pit when I was digging and were buried with mulch. Maybe they fell as I dug the hole for my apple tree and were covered up with dirt. Maybe they fell into the fire I built to burn up the branches I'd cut down. Maybe they just fell off as I was walking, raking, and pulling.

“Heavenly Father,” I plead, “please help me find my glasses. I really need them, and we don't have the money to buy another pair.”

I retraced my steps again, hoping the Lord would prompt me to know where to look. This time I used the rake to move dirt around, I pulled up and looked under stuff, and walked around everywhere I'd been, but still no glasses. Finally, I gave up.

About this time I remembered that I needed to run into town to go to the bank, so I decided to take a break for a little while. When I got back I went back to work. The branches I had been burning were just smoldering ash and cinders by this time, so I took the rake and moved them around, thinking I might find my glasses melted in the ashes, but they weren't there.

“Oh, well,” I sighed. “I guess it's not thy will for me to find my glasses, Father. But, if it is, would you please help me, because I just don't know where else to look.”

Dejectedly, I picked up the rake and headed towards the barrel behind Moe's shop, where we keep shovels and rakes and hoes and stuff. Suddenly, right there in the middle of the path between my garden and compost pit, I saw my glasses. I couldn't believe my eyes. They were laying right there on the dirt, exactly where I'd walked a dozen times while I was searching.

“Thank you, Heavenly Father,” I exclaimed, and then had to repeat, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Whether I'd walked back and forth over my glasses without seeing them, or whether the Lord moved them to a place where I could find them, I'll never know. But this much I do know. I was sure happy that Heavenly Father helped me find my glasses!

You're Kicking Me Out of Seminary?!!!!

2013-09-19T15:54:00.000-07:00

School started the day after Labor Day in 1970, whether I wanted it to or not. I was 14, in 9th grade, and still at the junior high. I suppose it wasn't so bad: at least I was finally one of the older kids and I knew where everything was. It seemed to me that Junior High students could be divided into three groups. There were the cool guys, the cheerleaders with beautifully long hair and super cute clothes and the jocks who played every sport; the nobodies (I was one of them) who were not so cute, popular, talented or rich, but they were OK; and the want-a-be hippies who hung out on the street corner across from school, smoked behind the bushes and talked about dope. They still scared me, but since I didn't know them personally they didn't bother me too much.

One good thing about starting 9th grade was finally being old enough to go across the street to release time Seminary. For an hour we went to a scripture study class put on by our church, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day-Saints, (the Mormons). I'd heard all about seminary from my older brother, Keith, who started the year before. Every day he came home with awesome stories about his cool teacher and the jokes he told.

My teacher’s name was Brother Moss. This was his first year teaching, and he wasn't very sure of himself, nor was he a very good disciplinarian. The kids, especially the boys, really gave him a hard time. My hour was probably the worst, as there were a lot of popular boys in class who thought they were very cool and never stopped talking. It was kind of fun at first, but after awhile they got pretty annoying. Poor Brother Moss eventually gave up trying to teach lessons and made us read the scriptures all class long, which was extremely boring.

Although I was not one of the talkers, I didn't help things out. I thought Brother Moss was a terrible teacher, and a lot of the time I hid an Agatha Christie murder mystery inside my scriptures so it would look like I was reading the scriptures when I wasn't. I didn’t do the assigned reading at home, either, so I didn't learn very much.

Each week we had a test over the chapters we should have studied. Since I hadn't read the assignments I didn’t do well on the tests, and I failed the mid term exam. That was really embarrassing. I knew I shouldn’t fail any tests, but especially not in Seminary. Instead of feeling bad for not doing my work, though, I blamed Brother Moss for being a terrible teacher.

We took the midterm on Wednesday. Thursday, after Seminary, some of the boys in my class snuck into the girl’s bathroom and put a cherry bomb behind the toilet. Somehow they rigged a long fuse, so they were gone before the explosion, but it wasn't hard for Brother Moss to figure out what happened. The next day when we went to Seminary there was a sign on the door telling us that we had all been expelled, and to go back across the street to the school auditorium.

Our Junior High School Principal was waiting for us when we straggled into the auditorium, and he really read us the riot act! As well as being our principal, he was also a member of our Church, and a Bishop. He yelled at us for the whole hour, telling us what bad examples we were, how much damage we had caused in the Seminary building, and how mean we had been to Brother Moss.

I was never more embarrassed in my life, or scared! How could I be kicked out of seminary? When the principal told us we should be ashamed of how mean we'd been to poor Brother Moss, a brand new teacher, I didn’t feel sorry for him at all. As far as I was concerned, it was his fault I had a bad grade in Seminary and had been kicked out, and it didn't make me feel any better when at the end of the hour the principal told us we'd only been suspended for the day.

I went home that afternoon afraid to face mom and dad. I had been suspended from Seminary, I had a failing grade, and I was in so much trouble. To my surprise, though, when I told dad and mom about what had happened I didn’t get in any trouble at all. In fact, they thought it was kind of funny.

“I bet those boys learned their lesson,” Dad said, and he let it go at that. I didn't

We had planned a camping trip for that weekend so dad could take my brothers deer hunting. Mom and my sisters and me came along just for fun. The weather was perfect, the fire smelled good, we had marshmallows and hot dogs to roast, but I didn’t enjoy myself. I was too upset about Seminary. I remember sitting by the fire that night, stewing over all that had happened, with my stomach twisting itself into knots.

Early the next morning dad and the boys went hunting. Mom and my sisters played games in the camper, but I sat outside by the fire and worried. My stomach was still in knots, but it was easing up a little. Finally I went for a walk in the woods, and as my anger subsided, I started to think clearer.

“It wasn't my fault that we got suspended,” I consoled myself. “I didn't have anything to do with those boys and the cherry bomb, and I'm not going to get in trouble for them. Everything is going to be OK, you know.”

Once the fear was gone, I even began to feel a little sorry for Brother Moss. He didn’t have any experience handling teenagers, and our particular class was really tough.

“If I'd tried harder and done my homework I wouldn't have failed the tests, you know,” I lectured to myself. “And I could have been friendlier to Brother Moss, and been at least one person in class who listened.”

By the time we went home Saturday afternoon I was feeling much happier. I went to church Sunday morning, humbled and repentant, and by that night I had made up my mind to go to Seminary the next day and apologize to my teacher.

Monday I walked across the street to the Seminary building feeling better than I had the whole semester. I was going to tell Brother Moss I was sorry, I was going to work hard, and I was going to try to make his first year of teaching a success.

But Brother Moss wasn’t there, and I never saw him again. Our new Seminary teacher told us that Brother Moss had quit teaching to become an accountant. The new teacher was excellent. He knew how to handle teenagers, even stinking boys, and he made learning the scriptures fun. But in the end, I I learned more from Brother Moss than I did the whole rest of the year. I learned about me. I learned that I don't like getting into trouble, and when I do I get mad. It's still hard, but I also learned that if I'll let myself calm down things will look better and I can figure out how to solve the problem. So, thanks Brother Moss, wherever you are. You may not have been born to be a teacher, but you sure taught me.

Now I'm Their Cheerleader!

2013-09-16T18:07:00.000-07:00

“You cannot force your children to do what's good for them,” I heard a psychiatrist explain once. “You can encourage them, council them, do what you can to make it easier for them, but you can't force them.”

“My own daughter suffers from mental health issues,” he continued. “When she takes her medicine she does great and feels wonderful. But because she feels so good she thinks she doesn't need the medicine any more, and stops taking it. Then all heck breaks loose. But I can't be with her every minute of every day, and I can't force her to take her medication. I can't live her life for her.”

He gave us a long look, then went on. “Look, it's like you are the coach when your children are small. You make all the decisions, you call all the plays, and you're out there on the field with them, guiding them around and helping them play the game.

“When your children become a teenagers it's your job to back off a little and become the coach on the side lines, calling out suggestions and plays, but not actually being out on the field with them.

“But when they become adults you are no longer the coach at all. Now you're the cheer leader. If your son comes to you and says, “I've just spent all my savings on an expensive new sports car,” you may swallow hard, you may think it's the dumbest thing you've ever heard, but it's not your job to tell him so. Instead you say, “Wow! What color is it? Can I come look at it,” or something like that.

“On the other hand, if your son asks for your advice, if he wants to know if you think he should buy an expensive car or save his money for his education, then you can tell him what you really think. But if he doesn't ask for your advice, it's not your job to tell him what to do any longer. You just be the cheerleader and point out all the good stuff. He has to make the calls for himself.”

I left that day thinking really hard. What the doctor said had a ring of truth to it. It reminded me of how Joseph Smith, the first prophet of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in this dispensation had explained his role in leading the church. “I teach them correct principles, and then I let them govern themselves.”

By the time my kids became adults I had taught them all the correct principles I knew, and it was time to turn them loose to make their own decisions. It sure was hard, though.

“Please, Heavenly Father,” I have often prayed since. “I've tried to be a good mother and teach my children right, but I'm sure I've left a lot of things undone. Please, make up the difference and help them learn the things I have neglected.”

And you know what? I believe He will. That's the promise, after all. After I have done all I can do, I know the Savior will step in and finish the work. That's what Grace is for.

Mormor's Story

2013-09-09T12:36:00.000-07:00

Mormor means mother's mother in Swedish, and my mother's Mormor was a Swede.

Mormor first heard about the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, or the Mormon's, when she was a in her twenties. Her friend thought it would be interesting to go listen to the Mormon missionaries preach, and as soon as Mormor heard them she knew they were speaking the truth.

Mormor decided to be baptized into this new faith, even though her husband and friends tried to discourage her. They thought she'd been hoodwinked, and ostracized her for her decision, but Mormor was baptized anyway. It took time, but gradually she won her friends back as they realized she was still the same good, Christian woman she had always been, and ten years later her husband joined the church, too.

Mormor was a compassionate woman, and over the years she cared for numerous foster children in need of a home. Her husband's sister had two little girls she could not raise, so Mormor took them in and raised them as her own daughters. My grandmother, Edith, was the same age as little Gertrude , and Greta was two years older.

About the time that Gertude and Edith were five years old a new Lutheran minister moved into their parish. Although Swedes could join other churches if they wished, the Lutheran Church was the State Church of Sweden, and everyone belonged to it as well.

“I will stop this nonsense,” the new Pastor swore when he found out there was a Mormon family in his parish. He paid a visit to the Johnson home and tried to reason with them, but Mormor and Morfar were fixed in their devotion to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. When the pastor realized that reasoning and arguing with them wouldn't work, he finally gave them an ultimatum.

“Either you denounce the Mormon church, or I will take your two little foster daughters away from you,” he threatened. “They deserve to be brought up in good, Christian homes, and I will see to it that they are.”

Poor Mormor and Morfar. What could they do? They knew their church was true, and they knew that God knew that they knew it. They plead with the pastor, but he wouldn't listen. Their friends and neighbors tried to reason with him, but he turned a deaf ear. Even Morfar's employer, the most influential man in their parish wrote a letter in their behalf, but to no avail. The government said it was a “church” matter, and the church upheld the minister. Finally, despite all they could do, Greta and Gertrude were taken from Mormor's home and sent to live in a far away fishing village, to be servants for families there.

Mormor and Morfar worked and worked until they were able to earn enough money for Mormor to travel to the village to see “her” girls. She was horrified when she saw the terrible conditions they were living in. Their foster families were Lutheran in name only, attending only the required church meetings, and not teaching the girls the gospel or taking good care of them.

“What are you so upset about?” one of the foster mother's belligerently asked when Mormor took her to task for the shape her little girl was in. “It's only Easter time, and I personally washed her hair at Christmas,” the woman declared.

Seeing the girls in such shape caused Mormor so much heartache that she was sick for a year after the visit, and she was never able to visit them again. They did correspond with each other, though, always calling Mormor their “little mother” in their letters.

Even before this tragedy, my great-grandparents wanted to move to America so they could associate with other members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and go to a Temple of God to be sealed as a family for eternity. After the little girls were taken from them, this became their main goal.

They were not able to immigrate until 1919, by which time the girls were grown and married. Mormor never saw them again, but as soon as she could she went to the Temple to be sealed to Morfar and her children. Much later, after Greta and Gertrude died, my grandmother, Edith, took their names to the temple and they were vicariously sealed to Mormor and Morfar.

I grew up on this story. Mormor's faith and determination always amazed me, but I've got to admit a little part of me wondered if she couldn't have figured out another way to save her girls. Couldn't she, perhaps, have just pretended to denounce the gospel? If she'd just told the minister they would come back to his church she could have continued living the gospel in the privacy of her own home, couldn't she? I knew that wasn't right, but it broke my heart to think about these little girls growing up in such a hard way. Poor little things.

Then, almost a hundred years later, my Aunt Ejvor told me the rest of the story.

Aunt Ejvor is our family historian and genealogist. One day when she was looking through some records she discovered that not all of the Temple work had been done for Greta. Although she had been sealed to Mormor and Morfar, she had not been sealed to her husband. To do his Temple work we needed to know his full name, where and when he was born, and where and when he died. Greta had been dead for many years by this time, and my grandmother, Edith, was in her nineties. Even Greta's son had passed away, so grandma wrote to his wife, asking if she had any information about her husband's family. The wife wrote back that she didn't know anything about them.

Grandma, Edith, died in 2000 without being able to seal Greta to her husband. In December of that same year, Aunt Ejvor was working at the family history library one day when a Swedish couple came in. Because she knew Swedish they got to visiting, and she discovered that the man had lived in Vestervik, Kalmar when he was a little boy, the same town Greta lived in.

“I should ask him if he ever knew any of our family,” Aunt Ejvor thought, but she worried she might offend him when she explained the story, since he wasn't a member of our church and she'd have to explain how the Lutheran church had persecuted her family.

The couple came to the library for a couple of weeks, and each time she met with them Aunt Ejvor thought about bringing up her relatives, but she held back. When the couple left to go back to Sweden they exchanged e-mail addresses, but that was all.

Later that month Aunt Ejvor received an e-mail from this man, thanking her for her help at the library. As she typed her reply the thought came to her again that maybe he could help find her lost relatives, so she asked if he knew of a genealogist she could hire to find her cousins. Then the thought came, “Type their names and birth dates,” so she got out her records and typed in the names and dates for Greta's children. The next morning she received an e-mail:

“December 30, 2000. Subject: Unbelievable Coincidence!

Surprise ---- surprise! I know them all PERSONALLY,....how about that!”

It turned out that this man had known Greta's son in school, and spent every Saturday afternoon at her house. He gave Aunt Ejor the names of our lost cousins, and she was able to contact them and exchange family pictures, and best of all, the Temple work was done for Greta and her husband.

“I could just imagine Mother and Greta up in heaven, hitting me over the head that day at the family history center, saying 'ask him, ask him',” Aunt Ejvor told me with a laugh.

I could, too And now I know something I didn't understand when I was small. Yes, Mormor could have lied to the Lutheran pastor and told him she would stop being a Mormon, intending to continue practicing her religion at home, in secret. If she had, she would have kept Gertrude and Greta for another fifteen years or so, and they would have known each other throughout their lifetime. But if she had, she would never have felt the urgency to leave Sweden and come to America, and my family would not be here. Much more than that, though, they would not have gone to the Temple, Mormor and Morfar would not have been sealed to each other or to their children, and they would have lost those two little girls for eternity, not just for this life.

How proud I am of my great-grandmother, and how thankful I am for her courage and foresight. Eternity is a lot longer than a lifetime.