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Certain Woman

3/26/2017

Meanwhile back at the “ranch”….

While a certain woman (ME!) was off gallivanting on trains and bikes, things have been happening at home. Following is an update of happenings on our Happy Hislop Half Acre. (Really we own an acre but only a half-acre is under cultivation and “Happy Hislop Half-Acre” has such a nice ring to it. Please forgive the inaccuracy.)

Spring planting is done! Tanah and I put pea, carrot, lettuce, beet, spinach, and onion seeds into the ground on March 15th. We also pruned the raspberries (me) and the apricot tree (Tanah). I have decided to track the garden’s progress on the blog this year. If all goes as planned (not likely but possible…) I will take a photo of the garden on the 15th of every month and post it on the blog. Stay tuned!
Spring break is also done….at least for Chick and Tanah. Both of them spent their spring breaks in Roy though we did not see a lot of either of them. Chick spent a lot of his time in his room and Tanah spent a lot of time in her room when we were awake and awake when we were sleeping our rooms. Teasing aside, we love having college students and would recommend it to everyone.
While home Chick worked 2 days for Focus Services. They were so impressed with his work ethic before he went to school that they told him he could work for them whenever he returned; they’d take him whenever they could get him. We feel the same way. We’ll take him whenever we can get him.
While here Tanah completed the medical and dental examinations required to serve a mission. Her current plan is to submit her mission papers as soon as possible, specifying an end of May availability date. WHAAA-WHOOO!
Tanah is a vibrant FORCE. Her spunk and drama fill our home with energy when she visits (which we love, by the way!) While home she helped me plant the garden and pruned my apricot trees and helped me correct notebooks at OPA and made dinner several times AND altered Grace’s prom dress. The Prom dress alteration was truly amazing. Those of you who understand sewing will truly appreciate the skill required to turn a satin, halter-top dress into a sleeved gown. The result was stunning.
The prom dress alteration was stunning both because of Tanah’s alteration skills AND because of Grace’s natural beauty. She wore it with style. Lance hates it that Grace is beautiful.
Grace is also talented, a fact that Lance does not hate. After Roy High’s performance of their one act play at the region competition, the judges singled Grace out as an outstanding actress. “I loved watching you perform,” one said. “Your character had a story the entire time.”
Miles is going out for track though his participation is a bit more than semi-reluctant. I love track and I love him so I worked hard to bring my two loves together. Now he is working hard at track practice and he does not love it.
Miles does love March Madness. He gives a running commentary of current occurrences to all who will pause to listen.
Our ward’s young men and young women’s group did a tour of the Weber County Jail. Oh my lands!!!! It was a very, VERY powerful experience. Most powerful was the part when two inmates told us their stories. One, a tall man with glasses who used words like “duplicitous”, came from an upstanding LDS home. A sports injury as a teen led to an addiction to pain killers that led to a life of crime; he repeatedly committed armed robbery to get money to support his habit. The second man came from a broken family—no father, gang connections, etc—where, as a youth, he figured that he would “graduate” when he was sentenced to prison. He, too, was in prison on drug related charges. Both men repeatedly testified of the horribleness of being in jail, that every aspect of it, EVERY aspect, sucks.

When I asked them what their estimate was of the percentage of inmates who were there on drug related charges they said “Every one….except for the sex offenders, everyone here is on a drug related charge.” Sobering.

At the beginning of this letter I identified myself as a “certain” woman.   I would like to end it with an insight about that.

Linda K. Burton, president of the women’s organization of our church (the Relief Society of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints) addressed us last night.   In her remarks she referenced multiple scriptures (Luke 8:2, 10:38, 11:27, 24:22, Mark 5:25, 7:25 and Acts 16:1,14) where the phrase “certain woman/women” is used to refer to faithful sister(s). One of the definitions of “certain” she explained, is convinced, positive, confident, and firm.   These scriptural women were confident in Christ, convinced of His divinity, positive about His promises, and firm in their faith.

I want you to know that I am a certain woman.   I do not always know—like many of you I am, at times, assailed by doubts and attacked by questions—but I am always certain.   I am confident in Christ and firm in the faith.   He is our Savior and His way leads to peace and joy.   Of this I am certain.

Love,
Teresa

Garden--south side

Garden--north side

Tanah the Tree Trimmer

The tree three days later

Raspberries

Blackberries

Beautiful girls

Amazing alteration job

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What Goes Down Must Come Up

3/19/2017

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“What goes down must come up!”

Sound like breakfast when I am pregnant?   Yep.    But Saturday pregnancy was not the reason that down things came up.    [NOTE:   Let’s make it very clear here. I am NOT pregnant.]    What is the reason that down things came up?   I am not sure that reason had a lot to do with down things coming up Saturday……   Is there anything reasonable about voluntarily riding bikes for 65 miles under a blazing sun (temperatures reached the 90’s) through a barren desert wasteland?   And paying for the privilege to do so?    What could be the reasoning for that?

Actually there are multiple reasons for doing so, most of which are variations of the theme “Life is the stories you can tell.”    Saturday my sister Marjorie, her son James, my brother-in-law Chris, and I participated in the Metric Century portion (100K, 65 miles) of the Mesquite Madness bike event and we have a story (or two) to tell.   [Note: Due to illness (and the option of hanging out with Miles after the race) James did the 35 mile ride instead of the 65 mile event.]

The course had a 3,354 ft. elevation gain spread across two out-and-back segments.   We learned quickly that downhills are great going one way but, when one turns around and comes back, what went down going must come up returning; “what goes down must come up”.     Our course had five category 5 hills and a category 4 hill, which may sound impressive until you learn that category 5 hills are the easiest; any incline under a category 5 is not rated.    Nonetheless, it was not a flat course and we were not unaware of the inclines.

Chris was out of sight at the start—we saw him only when he passed us coming back from the out-and-backs while we were still going out—and James left us soon after the start so, for the vast majority of the ride, Marjorie and I were alone together. Glorious.    There is a line from “Hamilton” (the musical) that says “If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it.”   On a similar note (pun intended), if it takes riding 65 miles in blistering desert heat to spend six hours with my sister, it will have been worth it.   It was, in fact, worth it.   The time with my sister was precious and the heat really wasn’t that bad.

In fact, the whole ride wasn’t that bad. Truth be known, it was awesome.   As anyone who has spent time in the desert in the spring knows, it is not barren; it is, in fact, beautiful.    Little purple and yellow flowers occasionally decorated the roadside, the endless sagebrush had a twinge of green, and the vast sky was a hazy purplish-blue.   Beautiful.

Being part of the event was a treat too....literally and figuratively.    We were literally inundated with treats.   Hot chocolate and muffins at the start line and bananas, strawberries, oranges, peanut butter filled pretzels, Red Vine licorice, Swedish fish, peanut butter/jelly sandwiches, trail mix, potato chips of various varieties, chocolate bars, ice water, drink mix, baked potato wedges, and dill pickles at miles 22, 45 and 55.     AND, as if that were not enough, we had all-you-want-to-eat, fresh, made-to-order Mexican tacos for lunch at the finish line.   The literal treats were liberal.

The figurative treats were also liberal.   It was a “treat” to be a part of such a great event.   As is usually the case with such things, the people involved were generous, kind and encouraging.    In an odd (masochistic?) sort of way, the burn in my muscles felt good as I powered up the hills.   Because knee pain stops me long before I reach muscle burn when I run and apathy prevents me from reaching muscle burn in any other sort of exercise, it has been a long, long time since I felt it.   Good stuff. And the thrill of riding down that category 4 hill—HOLY COW!   I have not experienced that kind of in-your-face speed since I was a missionary riding my trusty Dominican bike pell-mell down a graveled road in San Francisco of Marquoris.   [Angel do watch over missionaries.]

Angels watched over us on the ride too; angels in the form of our husbands and parents.   Jason drove the Sequoia, Lance manned the camera, Mom and Dad hugged and they all cheered….lots!   [“Bronze, silver, and the gold medal; Come on girls, pedal, pedal, pedal” was my favorite.]   It was darling.    They met us at the top of hills, took photos of us as we labored up hills, and stuck with us when we were over the hill.   They filled our bottles with Gatorade and our ears with love.    Clearly supporting your children’s athletic endeavors does not end with school sports. I am over the hill (52) and Marjorie is approaching it (40) but Mom and Dad (and Lance and Jason) were totally there for us.

We were especially grateful for their support when Marjorie’s back tire went flat.   Jason and Dad sprang into action.   A broken tool did not stop them—they resorted to brute force to separate tube from tire—but they were stymied by the bolts connecting wheel to frame.    We did not have a wretch, they could not loosen the nuts with their fingers, and using their teeth did not seem practical.   Lance came to the rescue, bringing James’ bike (which was cached in the back of the Sequoia because he did the 35 mile ride and had finished much earlier) to Marjorie’s side. Let the good times continue to roll!

And roll they did.   My toes were happy (I was probably the only rider wearing Chacos), my thighs were burning (it felt great), and my sister-sack, though not saturated, was at least temporarily satiated.    Marjorie must have enjoyed the experience as well.   Within two hours of finishing the Mesquite Madness ride she signed both of us up to ride in the “Salt to Saint” event, a Ragnar-type bike relay that takes teams of bikers from Salt Lake City to St. George. Look for that story in September.

Whaaaa-whoooo!

Love,
Teresa

Chris Hislop is my bike riding mentor, coach, and encourager-in-chief.

Cooper Hislop was my pit crew

I can still palm my hands when stretching out....

I am grateful I heeded Chris' advice to get biking gloves (and padded shorts!!)

Most everyone else has clip-in biking cleats.

Chacos are my biking shoes of choice.

Lance is wearing my race "shirt". Notice the logo on the hat.

Marjorie (white shirt that says RUNNER in orange) and I (black shirt with neon stripe and "Live 25" knapsack) walking to the start line

On the road....

....and smiling!

Going up the first hill.... (I am the one on the far left.)

Coming up the first hill.... (Marjorie is in front.)

James and his paparazzi...

Cute boy!!

Marjorie and I in the background; our support/cheer team in the Sequoia in the foreground.

Look at those rolling hills....

Look at these smiling girls.....

Thumbs up from Chris

Expect long delays..... Turns out to be prophetic....

On our way to our "long delay"...

The back tire is flat

The tube is off but the wheel is still on...

Done!

In their 80th year and still supporting their daughters!

See you at the Salt to Saint event!

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Teens Are NOT Scary!

3/12/2017

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An open letter to the UTA Train Hostess who approached me, enraged about the behavior of my students, and very determinedly, in an accusing voice, tried to chastise me….…..

Dear Train Hostess,

Thank you for your concern about my students on your train.   I appreciate your concern for their safety. I understand your concern about my lack of concern. Allow me, if you will, to explain.

Teens are not creatures that one needs to fear. I realize that most people, upon seeing a large group of teenagers, are assailed by anxiousness, find a knot forming in their stomachs and begin forming plans for flight or fight.   You do not have to be “most people”.

Most people—it may even be safe to say “all people” in this case—find what they are looking for.   When one looks for reasons to be happy, one finds them; things as simple as a shining sun, a smiling stranger, or a sugar cookie can bring joy when joy is sought.     When one looks for reasons to be angry/sad/offended, one finds them as well; glaring sunrays, smug strangers, and fattening treats can send one’s mood spiraling downward if grumpiness is one’s self-determined forecast.    We really do find what we are looking for.    When most people view teens they look for problems.   They look for loud, obnoxious behavior, they look for disrespect and bad attitudes, they look for reasons to be offended…..and they find them.    If they were to look for kindness, generosity, guilelessness, and eagerness for approval, they would find those as well.

Allow me, if you will, to help you see…..

The boy you accused of “refusing to stay in his seat” switched seats once.    And he switched seats because he was sitting by someone with whom he interacted in a way you would deem inappropriate.   He was trying to solve a problem, not create one.

The multitude you claimed was running from car to car was actually only a few children at a time and most of them were seeking a bathroom. Two hours on a train is a long time for some bladders. Admittedly, some probably sought the restroom that did not critically need it.    Most had never been on a train before and the novelty of a bathroom speeding along at 79 mph was something they felt compelled to explore. If sought, one could find reasons to view this as endearing.

You said they should have been taught to use their inside voices.   Ma’am, those were their inside voices.   When 97 people board a train and fill nearly every available seat, if they all talk, even if they use their inside voices, it will be loud.    And they were all talking.

They were all talking because they were all excited.   They were excited to be on a train—many for the first time, they were excited to be going to a museum—most for the first time, and they were excited to be out of the classroom—think back to your school days and I’m confident you’ll understand that feeling.   Their excitement was something to be enjoyed, if you let it be.

The gentleman who was sitting behind you when you spoke to me—the sharply dressed one, you probably noticed him—is a member of the Board of Directors at my school.   He is also Vice President of Zion’s Bank, a past president of Ogden’s Rotary Club, and heavily involved with the Ogden/Weber Chamber of Commerce.   He enjoyed the students’ lack of guile and abundance of enthusiasm and was puzzled, even offended, by your animosity.   The other parents, those you accused of apathy who were sitting among the students, also found joy in the students’ experience.   It is refreshing to be in the midst of raw excitement that is unrestrained by the constraints maturity dictates, if you let it be….

I wish you could have seen the kids at the museum.   Frank and Daisy spent over half of their time in the museum helping elementary kids on and off of the playground’s zip line.   No one compelled, or even requested, their help. They stepped in, stepped up, and served, just because that is who they are. Inspiring.

I wish you could have seen Juan, kneeling in from of Samantha, attempting to comfort her.   She lost her boyfriend’s camera in the museum’s cave and felt awful.    The boyfriend was not angry—on the contrary, he was much more concerned about her than he was the camera—but she wasn’t assured by his assurances. When I passed by, Juan kneeling in front of Samantha, adding his reassurance to that of the boyfriend; it would all be okay.   Tender.

I wish you could have seen Abigail and Raquel play in the water room.   Dressed in rubber boots and covered with rubber aprons, they built towers, tunnels, and conduits, funneling water from hither to yon, unabashedly laughing and pleasuring, enjoying the water in ways that you and I would love to but do not, restrained as we are by the need to be adult and concerned by the lack of sophistication we may reveal.   Guileless.

I wish you could have seen Damien invite me to cross the rope ladders with him.   “Come on Mrs. Hislop, it’s fun!” he encouraged.   I am sure that I am not the only one who finds it endearing that a 13 year old boy would invited his grandmother-aged science teacher to join him in an adventure.   Adorable.

Inspiring.   Tender.   Guileless. Adorable.   Teens.

Next time you interact with a group of teens I invite you to look for reasons to love them.   And, if you do, you will find them.   Guaranteed.

Sincerely,
Teresa Hislop
Science Teacher
Ogden Preparatory Academy

NOTE: All teens and/or their parents have consented to have their photos published on this blog.

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It Happened Again....

3/5/2017

1 Comment

It happened again…..

As I rushed about the house Saturday morning, semi-frantically preparing to host Church Women United’s “World Day of Prayer”, a celebration that focused on the women of the Philippines this year, I vowed never to volunteer to host the event again.   “Why do I do this to myself?” I questioned… “WHY?”

While preparing our church building for the event the “why” question flinted in and out of my mind and my vow to keep my mouth shut next time Pam asked for volunteers to host the meeting at their church strengthened.    It would be so much easier (and infinitely less stressful) to stay at home.    Heavens knows I certainly had many, MANY other things I could be doing.

Lance and Miles helped me set up tables and chairs. I put signs on all the external doors, directing visitors to the southeast corner of the building, made copies of all the songs in the program, created a marked copy for each speaking part in case the speaker either did not show or forgot their copies (both happened), set up tables for donations and registration, and used Sandy’s table clothes and bunches of fresh fruit (bananas anyone? I have LOTS!) to decorate the dining area (Primary room).

The reasons for my internal stress and quasi-regret for volunteering to host the event centered on concern for those who attend.   Of course I wanted the venue to look nice and the program to run smoothly—responsibilities that I took on as hostess—but more than anything I wanted those who came to support me to have a good experience.

Good heavens, I wanted all who came to have a good experience…but I was particularly mindful of those who came out of the goodness of their hearts primarily to support me.   I really, REALLY wanted them to have a good experience….and I believe they did.

The women at the Church Women United meeting truly UNITED and it was a fabulous experience.

Cute Ashton Koford King, whom I met only a month ago and who served an LDS mission in the Philippines, drove up from Provo to help me.   She brought artifacts from her mission and said the opening prayer in Tagalog—beautiful! Two sisters from Carol’s Catholic congregation, both native Filipinos, came wearing authentic dress and bearing authentic food (eggroll-looking pastries filled with ripe banana and Jack fruit—YUM!). They exchanged numbers with Ashton, promising to keep in touch.   Kate told Ashton about a young Filipino mother in her congregation who is feeling lonely and isolated. After the luncheon Ashton and Stasie (Ashton’s sweet step mother and my genuine friend) followed Kate to the young mother’s home.   I am eager to hear the rest of that story.

My dear family united to help me. Grace ran errands for me before (“Sharpen this pencil for me in the library, would you?), during (“Please go take the signs off the doors so the people coming to help with the funeral dinner don’t get stressed”) and after (Go put ice and water in the jugs—RUN!) the meeting.   My darling mother came—she started supporting me before I turned 2 and has never stopped; I’m 52 now and she is still “in my corner”.   My sweet and stalwart cousin, Elizabeth Hugh, came as well.   “Can anyone come to the meeting?” she texted me.   YES PLEASE DO!

Elaine Hansen, who is not in my ward and who does not owe me any favors, took time out of her day to play the piano for the program, fitting it into a schedule that was already filled with plans for a trip to Price to attend a grandchild’s baby blessing.   “You’re my friend,” she said in explanation, as if that were a good enough reason to justify my theft of her Saturday morning…which apparently it was.

Thank you Elaine for being my friend.   Thank you Elizabeth, Michelle (who brought her famous homemade bread and freezer jam and chili and led the singing!), Patty, Sandy, Grace, Ashton, Stacie, and Mom for being my friends.

And thank you to my Church Women United sisters, women whose friendships have become very precious to me: Pam whose tough Navy exterior shields an incredible tender heart; Reverend Lille whose love for Christ warms everyone with whom she speaks; gracious Helen and energetic, enthusiastic Kate; kind and caring (and organized and efficient) Carol; Jennie with her beautiful voice and equally beautiful character; Terry whose quiet demeanor conceals a reservoir of strength.     Catholics, Baptists, Lutherans, Presbyterians, members from the Community of Christ and Alpine Church, Mormons—sisters in Christ, all of us.   Church Women UNITED, indeed!

I guess I’ll volunteer to host another meeting again next year……

Love,
Teresa

NOTE:   A special thanks to Bishop Scott Bradford of the Roy 14th Ward for his willingness to open the doors of our church to Christ’s daughters from all denominations and for his wisdom in making it work.