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Primarily Changed

9/21/2014

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Who said that children are annoying?    When participating in a “two-truths-and-a-lie” activity, who told people she loves babies as her lie?    Who broadcasted to anyone that will listen that she does not like children?  “I do not like kids.”  Who said that?  

Me. 

 

Who has changed?

 

Me.   (Mostly…….I still do not like babies.)

 

“I like what Primary has done to you,” Tanah told me as I set five-year-old Braxton down, after having grabbed him close, hugged him tight, and swung him round several times.

 

What has Primary done to me?

 

Those darn, darling children have captured my heart.    Caught.   Captivated.   Charmed.   Me.   They have excavated a huge cavity inside me and filled it to overflowing with love.    I find myself helpless in the wake of their intense authenticity, ardent enthusiasm, innocent eagerness, and candid comments.    Flooded by feelings, I am without means of escape.    And, the true miracle of the situation is that I do not want to escape.   I am a willing, even eager, hostage.     Primary has truly changed me.   I love these children, even the small ones!

 

I am going to share a few anecdotes.  I am confident you will love them too.

 

While Sister Jessica Hyde was teaching the children a song, four year old Drake whispered to me, “Can I tell her she is beautiful?”.      Raise your hand, I instructed him.   He raised his hand, was called on, and delivered his message.   After telling Sister Hyde she was beautiful, he turned to me and said triumphantly, “Raising your hand works!”

 

When asked what he loves about his dad, Bryce (8 years old) said “That he is handsome.”  

 

“What rhymes with shoe?” Sister Hyde asked the Senior Primary children.  “Pooh,” said Miles Hislop.  (Who is his mother and why doesn’t she teach him to be appropriate?)

 

During a lesson on temples, we asked Gevin (4 years old) where he wanted to be married.  “At the wedding,” was his reply.

 

During a lesson on repentance, Sister Reanos asked, “Are we perfect?”   Parker replied “Yes.”  And, actually, sweet three year old Parker, who speaks with difficulty but prays without hesitation, is about as perfect as one can get here.     He tells us he wants to have seven children when he is a dad which probably will make him perfect.  (Trials by fire are refining, right?)

 

Seven year old Kodee Jo said the reason we are baptized when we are eight is because that is when we learn to swim.  Not quite doctrinally correct but certainly sincere.

 

Jackson pulled me close, placed one of his three year old hands on each of my cheeks, and said, his crystal clear blue eyes staring intently into mine, “We saw fireworks.”   My heart melted.

 

While my heart was melting, Joey’s (age 5) was zooming.     “Do you know what shape my heart is?” he asked.   Without waiting for a response he said, “A car.”

 

Said Addy (3 years old), “I am a spotlight.”  And it is true.    Her candid comments often put her into the spotlight.   “I am scared of that word,” she said when introduced to the word “pierce”.   “I cannot shake the wiggles out of my arm because gravity is keeping them there” she explained when the children were instructed to sing an activity song so they would subsequently settle down.

 

While Junior Primary (ages 3-7) generally has lots of wiggles, sometimes it is hard to get Senior Primary (ages 8-11) to move.    Sister Hyde asked them to stand up and sing.   When she commented on how slow they were to rise Brianna said, “That is why we are called Senior Primary.”

 

Primary children are funny.   They are also exemplary and inspiring.

 

In August the Primary created kid care kits as a service project for Ogden’s annual “Come Together Free”, a community event sponsored by the Congressional United Church of Christ Charities that distributes a meal, clothing, and care kits to 1000+ people.     A committee of nine of our 10-11 year olds planned our contribution to the project. 

 

Working with them was pure pleasure; they are still of the age where helping is fun and responsibility is an honor.   They decided what to put in the kits—“Let’s give them stuffed animals to cuddle with”, “Can we make cards for them?”, “We have to include some candy” “Crayons and paper would be good”, “How about chapstick?”—and vied for opportunities to collect donations—“I could ask my neighbors”, “My dad could put a box at his work”, make posters—“I will make one for the foyer”, “I will make one for the back door” , and count contributions—“Can I stay after church today to count?” , “Me too?” and “Me too?”.   Getting someone to do what needed to be done was no problem, it was deciding who to select for each task that was more problematic.  

 

On the day of the event, those incredible kids, my little committee of nine, ran the show.   It was they who helped the little ones fill the bags, create the cards, and seal up the finished product.   Very impressive.   The little ones were equally impressive.    I had initial concerns about their willingness to fill a gallon zip lock bag with treats and toys and then give it away.    My fears were totally groundless.   The children, even two-year-old Owen, went down the line, carefully placing one of each item in their bags.  When they reached the end, they put their treasure-filled sacks  down and raced, RACED, back to the front of the line and did it all again.   And again.  And again.   They filled 80 gallon sized bags and would have filled more had we more to fill.

 

Owen, who clearly was NOT developmentally capable of cognizing the social implications of altruism, clearly WAS capable of love.    Pure and potent, this is the life-changing power of Primary.   Primary children’s love splashes on all those who associate with them.     They love.  They love us, they love others, they love Christ…..and He loves them.    Their love for Him and from Him drenches and floods even hardened hearts like mine.

 

“The first thing I am going to do with I see Christ,” said nine year old Tyson, “is kneel.   And then I am going to hug him.”   Oh darling Tyson!   I hope that, when the time comes, I am worthy to follow your example.

 

Love,
Teresa



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1 Comment

Catch Me!

9/14/2014

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PictureMiles takes on an offensive line.....
Catch me if you can!!!   In fact, will you please catch me?   Catch me at home (good luck with that!), catch me on the run (which should not be a problem as I am running increasingly more slowly these days), catch the pieces of me as I fall apart (hopefully this will not be necessary), and/or catch me in a quiet moment (I do have a few of those and not all of them are at 2:00 a.m….) and let’s connect.  I would love that!  

Here are a few of this week’s catches…..

 

Miles found himself caught at home Friday morning without the parental signatures his teacher requires on his planner.    He called me at work at 7:15 a.m. in full panic mode.   “Breathe,” I told him and then carefully explained that, because he had spoken with me and I had given him permission, he could sign my name for me.  NO WAY.  Having a clumsily forged signature on his planner was not an acceptable option, no matter how much I assured him that it was okay.   His panic began rising and my mind began racing……What to do?  What to do?.......  Ah ha!     Knowing I have a neighbor who is both unflappable and infallible, I said, “Ride your bike down to Randee’s and ask her to sign your planner.”  He did and she did.   In fact, she signed his planner, logged him onto the computer to record his reading minutes, and fed him cold cereal—the greatest breakfast ever for him.   My guess is that he will frequently forget to have me sign his planner in the future.

 

Being caught without a planner signature may (probably will) happen again but being caught without football on the brain (probably) never will.    Our little lineman thinks about football as often and as intently as newlyweds think of………….well, you get the idea………..

 

In Saturday’s game, he was lined up as nose guard, across from and in-between a bunch of big boys with X’s taped on their helmets.   Curious, I asked the coach for an X explanation.   “X-men,” I was told, “exceed the league weight limit for this age so they can only play on the line; league rules prevent them from playing other positions so they don’t run over the smaller kids and hurt them.”   Undeterred by the fact those 125 lb lineman double his 65 lb weight, Miles loves playing on the line.   This week he played on the offensive and defensive line and caused a fumble.   You can catch him somewhere around Cloud Nine.

 

Tanah caught a knife in the arm Tuesday.  

 

Dr. Jones performed a juxtacordial chondroma excision on her right humerus at Primary Children’s Hospital.   The tumor was about half the size of the one removed several years ago and was similarly benign.      She loves the root beer slushies served in the recovery room (so does Lance), is not so fond of being unable to shower, and hasn’t given a thought to the dish chores she does not do.

 

She was also not so fond of the part she was given when she auditioned for the school musical….until she learned that she will be playing an obese slut who dances on tables.  That caught her excitement.

 

Apparently excitement for our annual Havasupai field trip is catching at OPA.   I promised the kids that if they worked hard at our weed-pulling/trash-collecting/elm-eradicating service project, I would take them on the trip.   Forty-five kids came.   FORTY-FIVE!   We’ve never had over 25 before.   Standing by mounds of dying weeds, felled trees and full garbage bags, I said, “Look at what we’ve done!”   “OPA! OPA! OPA!” they chanted enthusiastically in response.   They are excited and excited.   I am excited and scared.   How am I going to get 45 junior high students to the Grand Canyon?   This will be a story worth catching.

 

Also worth catching are the responses to some questions posed by my OPA eighth graders.    During a discussion on what to do about the overpopulations of wild horses on the western range, one young lady suggested some animals be neutered.   Innocently one of the boys asked what neutering meant.   Without hesitating she said, “It means to make it so their sperm does not work.”  He blushed.  She did not.  Go girl go!    Another student said animals should be slaughtered when they got old.  “What constitutes old?” was the response.  “When they have three babies,” came the reply.    I guess I am old but don’t worry….you won’t catch it.

 

You won’t catch any Soay sheep at our house either…..

 

Three years ago, I bought a breeding herd (three ewes, a ram)  of Soay sheep from a rancher in Washington.   Though the Soay were not as hearty as I’d heard and not as profitable as I’d hoped, we fell in love with Bummer.  Gentle and sweet as a bottle-fed lamb, Bummer became a pet.  She went to OPA  and SAA, rode on a float in the 24th of July Parade, and had her photo in the paper.  

 

A sneaking suspicion that I should sell the Soay became a dogged determination when my 3 Soay lambs sold for $20 each at the auction and Grace’s 2 Suffolk lamb earned her a $360 check.   I knew I should sell them but could not bring myself to put Bummer through the auction.   Some things are just not right.  I advertised the remaining Soays  (two ewes, a ram) on ksl.com and had just about resigned myself to putting two Soay through the auction and keeping Bummer as a pet (I think my sheep herder granddad would have understood!) when I got a call from Paula in Kanab (a 7 hour drive south).  “Would you be willing to meet me in Salina (a 3 hour drive south)?” she asked.      A cheerful grandmother with a deep love for animals, it was clear to me that Paula would baby Bummer.    I told her I would drive to Salina.   What I did not tell her is that I probably would have driven to Kanab to find a good home for Bummer.    So….on an abandoned farm road between Salina and Gunnison, we parked our trucks back-to-back, exchanged sheep for money, and went our separate ways.   And that, my friends, is the middle of the story.    I don’t know much of the story of Bummer’s beginning and I probably won’t know anything about Bummer’s story’s end but we were caught in the middle together and it was great.

 

In the middle of a conversation about the barn he is almost done building for me Chick said, “I’m going to make a great catch”….and he was not speaking about football.    He is going to make a great catch for someone someday.     And he is going to cause a great miss for me soon.

 

For those of you interested in catching his missing, he will be speaking in our ward’s Sacrament meeting on September 28th (Lance’s birthday) at 9:00 a.m., address 5850 S 2575 W, Roy, UT.    Friends and family are invited to hear him speak at 9:00 and/or stop by the house to eat and chat after the meetings, starting about 12:15 p.m. 

 

Love,
Teresa



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One bite of root beer slushy for Tanah, two bites for Lance.....
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Mr. Miles and the X Men
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Miles and Groot at Comic Con
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Miles and Gollum at Comic Con
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Love Is A Gift

9/7/2014

1 Comment

 
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“Do you really think I could go to Havasupai with you?” the boy asked, his dark eyes alight with hope and his dark brow already damp with sweat.   Plump body, thin wallet, questionable grades, unquestioning trust….Could he make the 26 mile round trip into and out of the Grand Canyon?   How would he get the $225 necessary to pay for his transportation and camping fees?    Would he be able to access the necessary equipment; backpack, tent, camping stove, supportive shoes?  “Yes, yes, yes,” I assured him.   Love for the unremarkable young man almost overwhelmed me.  I had no idea how we would solve his logistical challenges but I knew that I’d help him find a way to do it …or die trying.  

 

What happened?    Love.    It hit me.   Broadside.    Clobbered.     BOOM!

 

After much study, much experience, and much pondering, I have discovered something that most of you already know.   Love is a gift.    It is a gift given to us from God.  Often unexpected, quite often unearned, and too often unrecognized,   God gives us the heart-swelling, soul-filling, make-life-meaningful feeling we call love.   There is no other explanation for it; it has to be a gift from God.

 

Let me explain.

 

Three weeks ago I began teaching science to about 100 8th graders at Ogden Preparatory Academy.    Who loves eighth graders?   All of their mothers, most of their fathers, and me.    I love those kids!   I don’t even know all of their names yet but I love them, every one of them.    I love the brash boy in fourth period who thinks he is too good to wear his name tag; I love the quiet, watchful boy in second period who came alive when I mentioned playing on the line in football; I love the long-haired Latina who winced when I mispronounced her name…..again; I love the boy in the back who had the courage to say Joseph Smith’s name during our discussion comparing and contrasting science and faith; I love the wisp of a girl who was so curious about the Black Box that she hitched up her long skirt and climbed onto the counter to examine it. 

 

I honestly love those kids.  All of them.  I am seriously amazed at the depth and breadth of my feelings for them.   It is truly a gift from God, a gift of the Spirit given to me.  What else could explain the deep tenderness I feel for every student?  Affection for one or two of them could be easily explained—who wouldn’t love the vibrant, vivacious girl who brought me flower pens her grandmother made or the earnest young man who diligently re-wrote his pendulum lab so he could raise his grade from 23/25 to 25/25?—but love for every one of them, even those whose names I really do not know, whose faces still blend into the crowd, who I would not yet recognize as a student in my class if I saw them in the grocery store but for whom I would stay after school, hug in the hall, or march into the fire for if I sensed the need?   How does one explain that?   It must be God.  There is no other explanation.

 

Love is a gift from God.  But why does it work?

 

Bob Marley said, of husbands, “He will give you a part of him that he knows you could break.”  This is true of students too.    I find eighth graders easy to love because they are, as yet, unpolished and unjaded, not yet sophisticated enough to hide their desire for acceptance, their willingness to please, their zest for learning.  Still willing to trust, to hope, to share their hearts, they show me a part of them that is fragile.   It is the glimpse they give me into their hearts that captures mine.

 

We all have hearts like 8th graders; it is just that we are more skillful at veiling our needs, hiding our hopes, understating our strengths, concealing our fears, and masking our insecurities. Inside, we too have children’s hearts.   This, I think, is why God’s gift of love works.    It works because it allows us to see the hearts of God’s children no matter what their chronological age may be.    Love changes our vision to His vision.   We see a bit of what He sees and, therefore, we love a bit like He loves.   This is why I love all my eighth graders; His gift allows me to see their hearts and, because they are all His children, they all have lovely hearts.   I am enamored by the beauty I see there in all of them.   

 

Love is a divine gift that works because it gives us God’s vision.   Vision requires light.   Christ brings light, in fact, is light (John 8:12).  Light and vision are inseparably combined physically; Christ and love are inseparably combined spiritually.   Vision is a temporal gift; love is an eternal gift.    COOL!

 

COOL!  COOL!  COOL!   And the coolest part of this whole “love is a gift” thing is that gifts can be given.   Love is not something that one has or one does not have, like blue eyes or a sense of humor.  Love is something one can get by asking.   All one has to do is ask.    And—this is another cool thing—the giver of the gift is Christ who just happens to be the most gracious, generous, giving giver-of-gifts to have ever existed.   Glory be!   How easy can it be?

 

Really.  Love is a gift from God available to all of us, just for asking.  Of course, Christ is big on sincerity so our requests have to be heart-felt to be vision-changing but still………not too hard.   Right? 

 

Right.   Love is a gift.   Put in your request today.

 

Love,

Teresa


Look at the photos below and tell me................What's not to love about 8th


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    Author

    Teresa Hislop
    thislop@msn.com

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