Gratitude Rocks!

“Gratitude is the heart’s memory.” ~ French Proverb 



Carrying a “gratitude rock” in your pocket was made popular by the best selling book, The Secret. Presently you can find unique gratitude rocks in countless shapes, colors, and sizes on numerous websites. The gratitude rock story was about a man named, Lee Brower, whose life seemed to move at such a fast pace that he unconsciously ended up ignoring all of the wonderful experiences, relationships and blessings he had. So he began carrying (what he called) a “gratitude rock” in his pocket, in reality just a small, smooth stone that he picked up by a pond of water. Whenever he put his hand in his pocket and touched the stone—usually several times a day—it was a reminder to him to give thanks for something, usually something happening at that given moment, whether good or bad. Now he carries it with him where ever he goes!



A similar story was published by a writer for the Washington Post, as part of an experiment asking the question, “How many people would recognize beauty in a place where it wasn't expected?”

On a busy workday as commuters rushed toward their busy schedules in Washington, D.C., a 39-year-old man dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and a baseball cap took out an old violin and began to play. Few people noticed. Most kept their eyes on the ground or looked straight ahead. A few, talking on cell phones, raised their voices in order to be heard over the music. These were, after all, busy people. They had work to do and appointments to keep. They did not stop and they did not listen. What they missed was a rare performance by one of the greatest violinists in the world playing his Stradivarius violin, worth more than three million dollars. He chose to play some of the most technically demanding, elegant music ever written for his instrument, and he played with all the passion and perfection that he had become known for throughout the world.

During the 43-minute concert, nearly 1,100 people passed by. Of those, only seven stopped to listen even for a moment. The writer, who won a Pulitzer Prize for his article about the unheard violinist, summarized the experience with these words: “If we can't take the time out of our lives to stay a moment and listen to one of the best musicians on Earth play some of the best music ever written; if the surge of modern life so overpowers us that we are deaf and blind to something like that--then what else are we missing?” (Lloyd D. Newell, "Music and the Spoken Word," Nov. 1, 2009, Broadcast #4181)

The world offers us daily moments of beauty that can enrich our lives—if we open our eyes and open our hearts! I was diagnosed with a devastating chronic illness, called Lyme disease, 14 years ago and my life has never been the same. The crippling effects of my condition make life a daily challenge. So . . . long ago I decided that just for today . . . every day . . . I'd choose to be in an attitude of gratitude for all God’s gifts. We get to choose how each day begins and receive the positive energy that accompanies our awareness and gratitude for all the many blessings in our lives.

It is amazing how this simple act of daily gratitude can change our perspective and, ultimately, our attitude. Instead of seeing the glass half-empty, it’s half-full. Instead of focusing on what we don’t have, lets focus on what we DO have—right now!



A very wise person once told me, “You won’t attract what you don’t have, until you learn to be grateful for what you do have.” The law of attraction does not focus on our lack—what’s missing, but instead focuses on gratitude for the gifts of life we already have!

So here’s a challenge for today—this season of thanksgiving. Push the “pause” button on your life and take a moment to write down 10 things you are grateful for today. Then grab your own “rock of gratitude” and carry it in your pocket to remind you to live in gratitude each and every day! Hold your gratitude rock in your hand and think about the people and things that you have in your life right now which you are grateful for. Think about the incredible experiences you've had as a result of having these special people and possessions in your life. When you do this on a consistent basis and start to associate the power of these experiences and the feeling of gratitude with your “gratitude rock,” you’ll begin creating a very formidable base from which everything else will grow.

Remember whenever you find yourself overwhelmed by life's daily stresses, all you need to do is to grab your gratitude rock and feel its positive energy to put yourself in the right state of mind immediately.



Each day we have a new canvas placed before us. How will we use it? Here’s what I’m grateful for today. What’s on your list?

My Gratitude Rocks:


1. My Savior; His unconditional love and sacrifice for me.


2. My husband, Dale, and 37 years of marriage, wisdom, dry humor, encouragement, love and support.


3. Our family, immediate and extended and the love they give.


4. Our home; I am warm, dry, and comfortable.


5. The fact that I have enough to eat today.


6. A family business thanks to the hard work of Dale’s parents.


7. Living in the age of technology, the Internet highway of information.


8. Good books to read and heartfelt movies to ponder!


9. Laughter and Sunshine—The Very Best Medicine!


10. Dark Chocolate! (You've read my thoughts about that on a previous blog.)

“Live Well, Laugh Often, Love Much!”

Happy Birthday Sweet 18!

Today’s the day you’ve waited for,

Because you're not a baby anymore.

You've turned into the prettiest girl we've ever seen,

Happy Birthday Sweet Eighteen!

What happened to that baby face,

Our little girl with curls and lace?

We can't believe you're such a teenage dream,

Happy Birthday Sweet Eighteen!

I have to smile with sweet surprise,

Somehow you've grown up before our very eyes.

You've turned into the loveliest girl we've ever seen,

Happy Birthday Sweet Eighteen!

Born in the month of gratitude, I’m proud to be your mother,

You’re our bright shiny star . . . like no other.

Now 18, on THIS—the 18th day . . . you're queen!

Happy Birthday Sweet Eighteen!

Wishing Happy Birthday to you,

Hope all your fondest dreams come true.

Happy Birthday Sweet Eighteen!

Happy Birthday Sweet Eighteen!

We Love You!

Happy 18th Birthday Kenzi!

The Gift Called Old Age

“Old age is when you still have something on the ball, 


But you are just too tired to bounce it!” ~ Author Unknown



As my husband and I approach the years that were promised to be “golden,” mourning the loss of his parents and watching mine go into assisted living, the prospect of aging looks daunting to say the least. Recently I received the following email message, forwarded from a friend. It’s just too good not to share. I was unable to discover it’s original author, but the message truly resonated within me. The timing to read this could not have been more perfect. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!



The Gift Called Old Age 



The other day a young person asked me how I felt about being old. I was taken aback, for I do not think of myself as old. Upon seeing my reaction, she was immediately embarrassed, but I explained that it was an interesting question and I would ponder it, and let her know.



“Old Age,” I’ve decided, is a gift! I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometimes despair over my body, the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging butt . . . and that old person that lives in my mirror often startles me! However I don't agonize over these things for long.

I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family, for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I have aged I've become kinder and less critical of myself. I've become my own best friend.

I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avant-garde on my patio. I am entitled to a treat, to be messy, to be extravagant.

I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging. Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4:00 a.m. and sleep until noon?

I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60's and 70's, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love, I will. I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the jet set. They, too, will get old.

I know I am sometimes forgetful, but there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. And eventually I remember the important things.

Sure over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or when a beloved pet gets hit by a car? However broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.

I am blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.

As you get older it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think! I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong!

So, to answer your question, I like being old because it has set me free! I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day (if I feel like it)!

To all the Golden Oldies: “May you always have a rainbow of smiles on your face and in your heart forever!”

Sisters, Sisters

“’Help one another,’ is part of the religion of sisterhood.”

~ Louisa May Alcott

[Pictured: My sisters, Vicki and Judy, and me!]

I grew up following in the footsteps of my two older sisters, Vicki and Judy, although being my father’s third daughter in a row, often made me wonder if he was secretly disappointed when I was born. However, I am told that when they placed me in my father’s arms and he carried me from the delivery room to the hospital nursery, it was love at first sight.

My sisters were my heroes and my playmates. Vicki, nine years older than me, had always longed for a cuddly, baby sister. Her dreams had vanished when Judy arrived three years later, who refused to be snuggled and caressed or be her baby-doll. So I became Vicki’s baby, carried around like a precious dolly. Competitive by nature, Judy attempted to imitate Vicki. Unfortunately with her short, petite frame, Judy ended up carrying me by my head! Amazingly I survived this contest for my love.

My sister Vicki was so competent in caring for me that eventually my mother gave into Vicki’s plea to be my babysitter, letting her tend me for short periods of time while she was away. Vicki insisted that the hired babysitters were insufficient and that she could do a much better job, and she did!

I remember fun times growing up together with my sisters. We would link arms, doing “Can-can” chorus line high kicks, singing the famous lyrics from the song, “Sisters, Sisters,” from Irving Berlin’s 1954 movie, White Christmas. Words like, “Sisters, sisters, there were never such devoted sisters,” and “Sharing, caring, every little thing that we are wearing,” are deeply embedded within the memory bank of my “Ya-Ya Sisterhood” days.

I was reminded this week of the numerous times my sister, Vicki, came to my rescue during and following childbirth. She was always there for me even though she was a young busy mother herself. I remember going into labor a week early with my daughter, Aleesha, following a bout of the flu. Vicki cleaned my house and did my wash while I was in the hospital (even all the little extras that sometimes get left in the bottom of the wash bin because you aren’t using them right now). My mother was taking care of my little boy, so Vicki appointed herself housekeeper and clothes washer. I can’t express how uplifting it was to come home to a freshly cleaned house and folded laundry neatly put away, after my rushed hospital entrance. Only another woman can understand how much the gift of cleanliness means to a tired new mom.

Another time I was having a miscarriage and my mother was out of town. I called Vicki and she came running . . . only to find me lightheaded, bleeding profusely, and reading a book called, “How to Clean Everything in your House.” Unable to do anything about the miscarriage I was obviously having, recognized from past experience, I’d decided to do something about my newly purchased, now blood splattered, bedspread and the red blood trail leading to the bathroom from my early morning dash of awakened realization. Obviously alarmed and realizing I was not thinking rationally, Vicki calmly told me to go to the hospital with Dale, and not to worry as she would take care of everything. There are not many people on the planet one can ask to clean up a blood stained bedroom, that at the time resembled more of a crime scene than an actual emergency. Only someone who loves you would do it without a second thought.

It was on an early Sunday morning this month, on November 1st, when my daughter, Ashley, had an unexpected hospital dash of her own. Expecting her second child, she was scheduled for a Tuesday morning C-section that week. All month long she had been preparing for the long awaited day. She had reorganized every room and closet in her home, washed baby clothes, bought the necessary new things, and set up the nursery. We’d joked that even though she was having another C-section, how wonderful it was to be able to know your delivery day and be so prepared. However, as life goes, her little boy, Isaac, became ill just before Halloween, three days before her scheduled delivery. Suddenly there were bathrooms to be re-sterilized, and sheets and towels to be laundered. She planned on doing it all Monday before her hospital entrance.

That Sunday when she called to say she was in labor and they were going to the hospital, I heard tears of mixed emotion in her voice. She had tried so hard to be prepared and have her home ready for her highly anticipated little baby bundle. Things were not going as planned and she felt disorganized, still needing to pack her son to stay with Grandma.

A few hours later all was right with the world as mother and new baby son were safely sleeping in her hospital room. Yet her sister, Rachel, felt the motherly emotion of knowing what’s it’s like to go into labor early, not as prepared as you’d hoped. Rachel and her husband, Gordon, made a trip to Ashley’s house for a quick “Merry Maid” service. Sheets and towels were laundered, carpets vacuumed and floors mopped. The kitchen and bathrooms sparkled and beds were made to perfection. No one but another mom could understand what a gift of love that was from one sister to another. “Sisters, sisters, there were never such devoted sisters!”

“Having a sister is like having a best friend you can't get rid of.

You know whatever you do, they'll still be there.” ~ Amy Li

Smothered By Chocolate!

Nobody knows the “truffles” I've seen! It has been said that, “Man cannot live on chocolate alone, but woman sure can!” I’d have to agree. As a teenager I loved The Smothers Brothers, the lanky, crew cut, fresh-faced singing siblings. There was Tommy, the older, ‘dumber’ brother and Dicky, the annoyed straight man of the famous comedic duet. They would launch into a well-known folk song, only to have Tommy ruin it, much to the delight of the audience and the consternation of Dick. Song after song would come to an untimely demise by the sometimes innocent, sometimes gleefully naughty, antics of Tom. Every television variety show would come to a climactic war of words between the brothers, with Dick pointing out all of Tom’s flaws, shouting him down until Tommy would burst forth with, “Oh yeah? Well, Mom always liked you best,” bringing fits of laughter from the audience.

My favorite Smothers Brothers record was titled simply, “Chocolate,” deliciously hilarious with a visually delectable chocolate album cover. My favorite song, “I Fell into a Vat of Chocolate,” went like this:



Tom (singing): “I fell into a vat of chocolate. I fell into a vat of chocolate . . .”



Dick (singing): “What’d you do when you fell in the chocolate?”



Both: “La dee doo dum, la dee doo dum day.”



Tom (singing): “I yelled ‘FIRE’ when I fell into the chocolate!”



Dick (annoyed, singing): “Why’d you yell ‘fire’ when you fell into the chocolate?”



Tom: “I yelled ‘fire’ ‘cause no one would help me if I yelled, ‘CHOCOLATE!’”



Both: “La dee doo dum, la dee doo dum day.”

I don't understand why so many "so called" chocolate lovers complain about the calories in chocolate, when all true chocoholics know that chocolate is a vegetable! Chocolate is derived from cocoa beans and beans are a vegetable. Furthermore, sugar is derived from either sugar cane or sugar beets. Both are plants, which places them in the vegetable category as well. Thus, chocolate is a vegetable.

So if you’re a chocolate lover and feel guilty as you devour each tasty morsel of sweetness, take reassurance in this timely message. After all, stress wouldn’t be so hard to take if it were chocolate covered. Furthermore, chocolate is cheaper than therapy and you don't need an appointment!

Chocolate is delicious, delectable, and soothing! And yes, American! Originally chocolate was a New World discovery, one of the most sought-after treasures in Europe, brought back from the brave new land across the Atlantic. It seems like everyday, there's a new report about a medical study confirming chocolate is, in fact, a health food. Don’t you just love the news stories that report it’s rich antioxidant goodness, cardiovascular health, and even diabetes strength? It’s just what chocolate lovers everywhere want to hear about this beloved American guilty pleasure. We want to be “smothered” in our own decadent vat of chocolate!

I could give up chocolate, but then I'm not a quitter. So remember, life can be hard, but chocolate definitely helps! In honor of the healing emotional affects of chocolate, here’s my favorite “Top 10 List of Chocolate Quotes.” Indulge in their chocolaty goodness and find yourself another reason to go for a piece of chocolate!

The Top 10 List of Chocolate Quotes:
1. “In the beginning, the Lord created chocolate, and he saw that it was good. Then he separated the light from the dark, and it was better.” ~ Author Unknown
2. “There are four basic food groups: Milk Chocolate, Dark Chocolate, White Chocolate, and Chocolate Truffles.” ~ Author Unknown
3. “Forget love . . . I'd rather fall in chocolate!!!” ~ Author Unknown
4. “Life is like a box of chocolates . . . You never know what you're gonna’ get!” ~ Forrest Gump (Tom Hanks)
5. “Make a list of important things to do today. At the top of your list put, 'Eat Chocolate.' Now, you'll get at least one thing done today!”

~ Gina Hayes
6. “There's nothing better than a good friend, except a good friend with chocolate!” ~ Linda Grayson, “The Pickwick Papers”
7. “The 12-Step Chocoholics Program: Never be more than 12 steps away from chocolate!” ~Terry Moore
8. “All I really need is love, but a little chocolate now and then doesn't hurt!” ~ Lucy Van Pelt in Peanuts by Charles M. Schulz
9. “Strength is the capacity to break a chocolate bar into four pieces with your bare hands and then eat just one of the pieces.” ~ Judith Viorst
10. “I have this theory that chocolate slows down the aging process. It may not be true, but do I dare take the chance?” ~ Author Unknown

*For a healthy Nature’s Sunshine Chocolate bar, made with Xylitol, click here. Xylitol is an organic compound, naturally occurring sugar substitute, found in the fibers of many fruits and vegetables.

On This Day: Remembering Judy

Pictured: My dad carrying Judy as I look on.

On the historic date of October 17th, Doris Humphrey, choreographer, dancer, and writer was born (October 17, 1895); American film star, actress, and dancer, Rita Hayworth, the legendary Hollywood beauty, was born (October 17, 1918); Physicist and renowned genius, Albert Einstein, arrived in the United States as a refugee from Nazi Germany (October 17, 1933); Evel Knievel, motorcycle daredevil, was born (October 17, 1838); Jimmy Seals, singer, songwriter, and one half of the successful soft rock band “Seals and Croft” was born (October 17, 1941); and the famous actress, Ava Gardner, and jazz composer and bandleader, Artie Shaw, were married (October 17, 1945). More recently, Mother Teresa, of India, was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for her work on behalf of the destitute in Calcutta (October 17, 1979).

However, on October 17, 1945, a historic event occurred in my family of origin when my older sister, Judy, was born. She was a dancer, actress, singer, acrobat novas, comic, teacher, treasured friend, loving mother and beloved wife. I called her “sister.”

Judy had carrot red hair and a personality to match! She was a petite 4’ 10” and I was a tall 5’ 7”, a virtual giant in my mind, standing next to her. I loved being with her. She made things happen and she pushed me to do more . . . to be more.

My sister Judy was five years older than me. Our parents spaced their children rather far apart. There was a three-year space following the birth of my older sister, Vicki, before Judy was born. Five years later I arrived, five more years brought my younger brother, Devro, and then finally seven years later, my little sister, Loni, completed our family.

Judy was full of energy! She loved people and she was always busy with lots of activity. She loved to dance. Judy had Perthes disease when she was young, a disorder of the hip in young children. Many theories have been proposed as to the cause of the disease, including inflammation, infection, trauma, and even “hip problems” noted at birth. Whatever the cause, my parents were told Judy would always walk with a limp. However, Judy didn’t let the disease stop her. She wore her crutches to school and let the other kids try them out while she hopped around. She claimed they even made her popular! However it was dancing lessons that eventually created magic in her life and a miracle in her body. Her bones fused in such a way that she could walk and dance with grace. When the doctors examined the x-rays of her hip, they couldn’t understand why she didn’t walk with a limp.

I was shocked the day our Judy died. Even though she had a serious form of Leukemia, I had not expected her death. No one in our family did. We rationalized that something that unthinkable couldn’t happen again in our family, remembering the toxemia related death of my sister-in-law Gayle and her baby, Skyler. Besides Judy’s husband, Neal, was so spiritual – the bishop in their ward. He had promised she’d be all right and I believed him. We all wanted to believe him. We were not prepared to lose a sibling, a daughter, a friend, wife and mother. I was angry with Neal for a long time following her death because he didn’t seem to display any guilt for the decision he’d helped her make to have the bone marrow transplant. I couldn’t feel his pain, only my own. However, we all felt guilt, each in his or her own way . . . for bone marrow not good enough, for time not spent together, and for silly arguments of long ago. We felt guilt that we didn’t know there wouldn’t be time for all the things we’d planned to do and say. I will never forget the shock on her children’s faces when they were brought to the hospital to view their mother. She had passed away earlier in the day and appeared to be sleeping peacefully, as the midday sun shown through her hospital window. Her five children were young, ranging in ages 4-15 and as I watched them gather around her lifeless body, I realized they were as unprepared as I was.

On September 10, 1986, twenty-three years ago, at the age of 40, my sister, Judy moved on to her heavenly home after her valiant battle. I was in her hospital room as she passed from this life into the next one. Only Neal, our mother, a nurse, and I, watched helplessly as she quietly slipped away. I’d arrived at the hospital only minutes before. I remember frantically trying to put on the protective clothing required by the hospital before entering the sanitary environment. My mother motioned to me to abandon the task, to come quickly. With tears blurring my eyes, I entered her room and reached for her tiny petite hand. Her eyes were closed and the only sound in the room was from the quiet hum of the machine she was hooked up to. As I took her small hand, I gently whispered, “It’s Linda, Judy, I’m here.” I felt the slightest squeeze of my hand, and then she was gone. I remember that moment as clearly as if it was yesterday. It was the first time in my life I had complete confirmation of life after death. I felt the spirit in the room and knew others were there to guide her home. Tears still well up in my eyes when I write or think about that day.

I have been told that earlier in that day, Judy opened her eyes and complained about the noise in her room, asking her husband to please tell everyone to be quiet. He was confused, as the room was silent with only the soft hum of the hospital machine. He assured her that there was no one in the room talking. That day, as she lay dying, the spirit testified to me of our life before this one. My family is noisy and when we get together we all talk at once, excited to share our news. I wonder if the talking, noisy people she referred to were all of our noisy ancestors, excited and preparing for her return, just as we anticipate and enthusiastically prepare for a new baby.

Last Saturday, October 17, 2009, Judy would have been 64 years old. I had a dream about Judy last week. It seemed so real, like I was really with her. She came to see me and Neal was with her, his arms around her shoulders. He was grinning from ear to ear and he was so happy. I was surprised to see her and couldn't believe she was real. I threw my arms around her hugging her tightly and she felt as real to my touch as anyone on earth! Perhaps that's what the resurrection will feel like.

Someone once told me, “We can’t heal our pain until we can find gratitude for the trial or experience that gave us the sadness.” I used to think, “I’ll be grateful when this trial is finally over!” Who knew that losing my sister would be the beginning of understanding the gift of gratitude and unconditional love? The Savior taught us to love one another unconditionally. It seems like a simple gospel principle. Now I know it is an essential principle and the one that will guide us safely home.

In Loving Memory of Judy: October 17, 1945 – September 10, 1986

Healing Our Family History

I have gradually been reading a book titled, “Healing Your Family History: 5 Steps to Break Free of Destructive Patterns,” by Rebecca Linder Hintz, and slowly contemplating it’s message content. The forward of this book is written by Stephen R. Covey, author of the best selling book, The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. “Healing Your Family History” comes highly recommended by Stephen Covey along with music celebrity, Marie Osmond and renowned MD, Christiane Northrup. I’m a fan of this book as well, having discovered some interesting patterns within my own family history.

I read a lot of different kinds of books during this particular season of my life, something I rarely did while raising my children. Back then I generally read ‘self help’ and ‘parenting’ books. However, thanks to the newly invented Kindle Reader (for more information click here), I have rediscovered reading for pleasure again, like I did during my teenage years. The books I enjoy reading usually fall into two basic categories: candy and chocolate. Some books are like sugary candy, a sweet treat that you must keep eating until it is consumed. While others are like decadent dark chocolate, something that must be savored over time. The book “Healing Your Family History” is like dark chocolate. It needs to be studied, pondered, and actively participated in to reap it’s full benefits. There are even worksheets included within its thought-provoking pages.



I have been reading this book along with writing my own history, a work still in progress. I have also been dabbling in researching and recording some of the histories of my ancestors. I’m especially drawn to the incredibly strong women I have descended from. I’ve discovered the truths in the following quote for myself, in being able to understand ‘who we are’ by understanding them:

“Something deep within us wants to connect with those who went before us: our parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, and other family members. When we know who they are—their life stories, their triumphs and failures, their strengths and weaknesses—we gain a better sense of who we are. In a sense, their stories become our stories. We not only learn from them, we feel strengthened and inspired by their lives and experiences. We may even find ourselves thinking, ‘If they could do difficult things, so can I.’ With just a little effort, we can come to know and love those whose lives flow directly into ours.” ~ Lloyd D. Newell, Music and the Spoken Word

One of the many fascinating discoveries I’ve realized from pondering this book, is an interesting attitude that seems to have been passed down through the generations. This discovery about my female ancestors is only my opinion, but one that I find intriguing!

Since I wrote my little “Run-a-way Bride” blog on my anniversary (click here for blog entry), I've had some interesting discussions and thoughts that have brought about my recent revelation. I thought I was the only run-a-way bride in the family with fear of commitment. Then I discovered an aunt that also had a run-a-way bride story, and after a discussion with my younger sister I realized that all my siblings had fears of commitment as well. The fears go back to my mother, my grandmother and even way back to my great, great grandmother, who was probably the most reluctant bride of all! 



I've grown to love this great, great grandmother named, Emma, who made impetuous choices that she later regretted. There are so many lessons of life consequences, strength, and courage within her story. She was told it wasn’t proper to be running around the way she did, that she needed to marry the man who loved her or become one of the polygamous wife's of Wilford Woodruff, causing her to reluctantly choose the former. She gave birth to her first child just two months after her marriage date, obviously pregnant before marriage, an occurrence quite scandalous in the days before Hollywood made it appear acceptable. Of course things of that delicate nature were never discussed in that era. [I just finished reading Little Women again. There is no mention of Meg’s pending pregnancy until the twin babies are born, as “one does not speak of such things!”]

It is interesting to me how our fears get passed down through generations of DNA. That must be why it's so important to do our family history . . . so we can heal our hearts and theirs! What a glorious reunion that will be in heaven when we all understand one another in love without judgement!

I think my husband, Dale, understands that my run-a-way bride story had nothing to do with not loving him . . . just a fear of losing myself and my own dreams! He can't resist teasing me about it though. Recently I discovered a 40s song called, "Linda," that is so cute. When Dale heard it he said, "Hey that's me. That could have been my theme song in high school!" Here are some of the words he was referring to:

When I go to sleep, 


I never count sheep, 


I count all the charms about Linda. 


And lately it seems, 


In all of my dreams, 


I walk with my arms about Linda. 


But what good does it do me? 


For Linda doesn’t know that I exist. 


Can't help feeling gloomy, 


Think of all the lovin' I've missed!

I was truly afraid if I got married I would just have children, never graduating from college or being able to teach and travel. I wanted to travel and see far away places. However, my fears were needless. I married and still graduated from BYU, and that education has been such a blessing in my life. My six children were planned by choice and I have been able to travel with my husband, Dale, to some exciting places that have given me wonderful memories. My Dale is a fun traveling companion. I’ve taught preschool and taught in the church “because" of marriage, not in spite of it.

I come from a legacy of strong willed women who are stubborn and get what they want! Thats a great legacy of Family History!



“There's a story behind everything . . . How a picture got on a wall, how a scar got on your face. Sometimes the stories are simple and sometimes they are hard and heartbreaking. But behind all your stories is always your mother's story because hers is where yours begins.” ~ Mitch Albom, For One More Day

“To heal our world, we must heal our families!” ~ Stephen Covey

“Healing our family’s history is key to getting better ourselves.”

~ Rebecca Linder Hintze, Healing Your Family History

“Every woman who heals herself helps heal all the women who came before her and all those who will come after her!” ~ Dr. Christiana Northrup, MD