tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49790337033083594012024-03-13T12:07:00.065-07:00"Unto One the Least of These ..."Matthew 25:36-40Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01483161275133924693noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4979033703308359401.post-9322067422136797072014-03-07T08:52:00.000-08:002014-03-07T08:52:08.518-08:00IN GOD'S CARE...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Over the past several months our son has been told they were going to move him back to California. We all felt concern because he has been doing so well at LPCC. He has finished two semesters of college courses, and in the middle of five classes in the third semester. He has decided that he loves learning, and has set a goal to attend Law School. Watching the news is his favorite past time, coming to the conclusion that he leans towards being an ultra conservative. </div>
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Andy said that when he was told again that they were going to transfer him to California he prayed, asking God, if possible, that he might know why. The next day on two separate conversations with guards and inmates he was told that transfers back to California, where he was convicted, usually means early release. Of course he was very excited about this possibility, but trying not to get his hopes up.</div>
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We have been able to visit him every week for the past two plus years. Good visits, happy visits, interesting visits. On Tuesday this week, he called and said he was leaving that day. I got a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. I will miss seeing him. But when I first heard a few months ago that he was probably leaving I couldn't help but think it was my Father in heaven's doing because He sent him to Arizona so we could love and nurture him even though he was in prison, so why not trust in Him and have faith in Him that Andy is being sent to California for an equally important purpose. I believe that purpose is for Andy to be on his own without his parents nearby, to prove to himself that he can do this, that he can be strong, that he can make it in life. Andy has not thought so for a long time. But because of how successful he has been in his present environment for a long time, I think he's ready as long as he continues to call upon God for strength and for help. He is in God's care. </div>
Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01483161275133924693noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4979033703308359401.post-50215909491912158112013-07-20T19:59:00.000-07:002013-07-20T19:59:11.562-07:00Live Volcano<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This is a living volcano on the Big Island of Hawaii; it is forever changing its course, sometimes menacing and sometimes quiet. The first time I saw Kilauea the lava was flowing into the ocean causing mountainous plumes of steam. It was beautiful. We viewed this from the acres of hardened black lava beds that destroyed everything that lay in its path. There is beauty, but how utterly frightening if my family, my friends, my loved ones were in the way of the moving, red hot devastating lava. </div>
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Nature is a great teacher. I'm sad to say that sometimes we humans aren't good learners. We continue to stand in the pathway of the elements of destruction. Why can't we just be satisfied with being spectators instead of participants of harmful substances? And this can be anything that keeps our spirit from soaring and reaching the heavens, and likewise that keeps the spirit of Heaven from penetrating our souls. </div>
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These musings are not directed towards Andy or anyone else in particular, they are just thoughts from an observer, and someone who has stood in the pathway of moving lava.</div>
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Andy is doing well. He just took midterms in the two college classes he's taking, biology and Political Science! The love of learning has struck! We are able to discuss much more these days, especially how well his mind is working. I would say, right now, Andy is seeking a pathway of construction,not destruction. </div>
Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01483161275133924693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4979033703308359401.post-31274406767387244882013-03-15T14:18:00.002-07:002013-03-15T14:18:14.498-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I was shocked to see that my first post in this blog, "Childreninprison.blogspot.com, was two years and four months ago. Andy still sits in a prison cell only 45 minutes from us, and we continue to visit him once a week. For me, this is a huge blessing. </div>
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We just got back from visiting him today, for only 25 minutes. We got there two hours before, but because of "inmate count" where they have to be in their cells, he couldn't be brought to the visitor's room for however long. It is so frustrating to be at the mercy of the prison protocol. Oh, well, I used the time to think about what yard work I need to do over the next few spring/summer like days. Good use of my time I guess.</div>
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What is sad for me is that I have trouble thinking of my son in any other environment besides prison. Am I just protecting myself from disappointment, frustration, whatever? Or is it because, "it is what it is" and I can't do anything about it. I have been reading a lot lately in my Sunday School lessons and in the scriptures that we must be of "good cheer," "be glad," "be joyful." I try, I really do. And most days I succeed.</div>
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I project to the future and wonder what he will make of his life after prison? Really, there is no answer for me because only Andy can determine that. I am learning how to stop trying to be in control. As they say in AA "Let Go, Let God!" </div>
<br />Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01483161275133924693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4979033703308359401.post-19220773374267246622013-01-04T21:00:00.000-08:002013-01-04T21:00:22.785-08:00Light<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Andy's dad and I continue to visit him every week, usually on Sunday afternoon. We spend a lot of the time laughing and just enjoying the visit. When we run low on things to talk about we play scrabble. We're good at three and four letter words! </div>
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Whenever I'm asked about my family, like "tell me about your kids," I hesitate just a little to share that our youngest son is in prison. I'm not sure how some will react. Truthfully, I don't really care if this information is met with a negative reaction by others. It is what it is, and Andy is my son, flesh of my flesh. And I know he is a child of God and is loved by Him. I also know that the atonement covers his sins and my sins when we repent. It is a light that warms the earth and my soul. </div>
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Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01483161275133924693noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4979033703308359401.post-14302733817323915092012-11-15T18:00:00.000-08:002012-11-15T18:00:45.224-08:00Normal Life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Even though I have a son who will be in prison for quite a few years, life is fairly normal for me. I don't cringe when I think about where he is, nor do I hide the fact. I believe it's because I have been strengthened so the burdens placed upon my shoulders are light, and sometimes I can't even feel them.</div>
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I need to share a funny story: we have to pass through a security checkpoint before entering the prison. If the buzzer goes off, we can't go in. I have learned some tricks (the guards taught me) to turn sideways so the under wire in my bra won't set it off. Usually works. Last week the buzzer kept buzzing as I walked through. The guard said it was around my waist. I was wearing a skirt with a metal zipper. She said, "I'm sorry but unless that buzzer stops you won't be able to see your son, and we can not pat you down." I didn't bring any extra clothes, because who does that? So I took my skirt off, and walked through the security gate in my slip! The buzzer didn't go off. The guard said, "uh, we normally don't let people do that." I laughed and said, "well, I guess your abnormal is my normal." Not sure I'll be able to get away with that again. I'll put a pair of sweat pants in the car! </div>
Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01483161275133924693noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4979033703308359401.post-76400442386770251782012-10-30T12:19:00.000-07:002012-10-30T13:41:46.056-07:00THE GOODNESS OF GOD<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Since the last debacle of a visit we have been able to see, hug, and talk to Andy each weekend. I am grateful and I should have shown my gratitude by posting before this. Our visits are always so good. We laugh, I listen, and I observe. When the kids were growing up and I was deep into my job of mothering, if they said something I didn't agree with or I had concerns about, I would make a judgement, jump right in and give my opinion. Maybe it's because they are grown up or more mature, but I just try to listen these days. I've noticed that Andy is more willing to share when I nod my head, say "uh huh," or "oh." And he has been sharing a lot. He is definitely accepting responsibility for his actions, does not blame someone else, and is even accepting the terms of his sentencing. He says he doesn't argue with other inmates, and not because he might get beat up, but because it doesn't do any good. Other people can think what they want. This is a huge step for my youngest son.</div>
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I know his life was saved by his arrest two years ago. I know the amount of time he will spend locked up is for his good. I know all of this has been orchestrated or arranged by a very loving and kind Father in heaven. And not just because He loves Anders, but because He loves me. I have been given assurances of His love. Andy is only 40 minutes from our home. He's feels great sorrow for what he did to his family. He is adjusting and being safe in this circumstance. </div>
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I love my son. I do not doubt the goodness of God. </div>
Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01483161275133924693noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4979033703308359401.post-82614034607177660802012-09-23T14:56:00.000-07:002012-09-23T14:56:33.621-07:00Walking In Faith<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Yesterday we went back up to Eloy to see Andy with the thought that we would visit from 1-3:30 because a few weeks ago I had signed up for the missionaries to eat dinner with us, not knowing Saturday is the day we would visit with our son. We sat down at our table at 1:30. There were many girlfriends, wives, friends and families to visit their loved ones. We watched guys come in and sit down with those who had come to visit them. A half hour passed and there were maybe three visitors, including us, left waiting for the door to open bringing who we had been waiting for. Another half hour and no Andy. His dad approached the guards and asked why our son hadn't been brought up. "Oh, he's somewhere. We can't find him, uh, maybe he's on recreation or something, we're working on it." I had lost my happy face by this time. Another half hour passed and I had had it. I jumped up, walked over to the desk and asked again why our son hadn't come up and explained we had to leave at 3:30 (half hour from when I asked). "Uh, well, sometimes this just happens, they're somewhere but we can't locate them, and we can't help it, and uh, you just never know when this will happen." I went back and sat down. In another 10-15 minutes or so Andy appeared after having been stripped search on his way into the room; standard humiliating procedure. We asked him where he had been? He had told us last week that Saturday afternoon is when he can go out into the yard (outside) to run and exercise. We thought he must have been doing that and frankly I was a little miffed at his rudeness. When he sat down he said he hadn't been in the yard that he was in his cell the whole time. The guards had just told him he had visitors. I was so totally angry that they feel like it's ok to mess with people, to yank their chain. I'm still a little mad. We did extend our visit another half hour, until 4, and it worked out ok to get home in time to finish dinner, BUT our visit was cut short and probably not as relaxed as it could have been.</div>
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What makes me more sad than angry about this whole experience is some things he shared with us about himself during the visit. It's hitting him how long he will be locked up. Worst case scenario release date is 2022. Best case is 2017. He'll either be back into society in 5 years or 7 years. Man, that's a long time. He is realizing that he will be 30 years old. Let's see that's about 15 years of his life gone, wasted, from the time he made the decision to use drugs and to do whatever it took to get that life sucking substance to walking back out into the fresh air, hopefully a free man. He believes all his hopes, dreams, and aspirations are never to be had. We did what all good parents would try to do, minimize the pain, and try to give encouragement, sharing with him that you find new dreams, new hopes, new aspirations. I think it might have fell on deaf ears. Maybe what he's feeling is what he should be feeling, but to be defeated for the next 7 years? I wouldn't want that. I've been sad for him. Another walk in faith, right? And that's where I am, not able to do anything, but pray for him to be given strength, courage, and to submit cheerfully to the will of the Lord, then his burdens will be made light, even so that he cannot feel them upon his back. I'm praying for myself, too. </div>
Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01483161275133924693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4979033703308359401.post-83535158498612669112012-09-19T22:30:00.004-07:002012-09-19T22:30:54.245-07:00There's Beauty Even in Cactus!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I love this barrel cactus with many cacti growing on top of each other. There's beauty in its uniqueness. Andy is unique. </div>
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We tried again to visit Andy on Saturday fully expecting something to go wrong. We showed our ID cards, loaded the security conveyer belt with our watches, glasses, shoes, keys, etc. The guard looked at mine and said, "I'm sorry but sandals aren't allowed inside. You have to wear shoes with a back on them." What? Where did it say that? Well, lucky for her (and for me) I had a pair of dress shoes in the car! I hurried out to the car, put on heels with my jeans, and made it through the outer area. Another guard who looks like Charles Barkley took us through two locked gates on the fences surrounding the prison. A ton of barbed wire was twisted along the top of the fences as well as electric wires all around. I must admit it was a little disconcerting. We were then taken into a room with several tables and 4 chairs around the tables. After waiting about 10 minutes our son walked into the room. I hadn't seen him face to face except from a distance in court for nearly 2 1/2 years. We hugged each other tightly and held on. Let me clarify, I held on! </div>
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He looks lean, clean, and peaceful. His complexion is the best I've ever seen it. We visited with him for about 4 hours. I'm not sure there was ever any silent time. He talked, and talked, and talked. I just tried to listen to him and get to know him once again. That's when I realized he is a unique individual and as I look back on his life, he's always been that way. He seems to think a little differently, and he does think deeply about life. I realized that I just need to accept who he is, not his behavior, of course, but his individuality. </div>
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There was another big hug when we parted; what joy to spend some time with him. And although it is difficult to visit him, my son in prison, I feel peace and comfort. And that's a beautiful thing!</div>
Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01483161275133924693noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4979033703308359401.post-62894054899946787912012-09-08T20:43:00.000-07:002012-09-08T20:43:33.950-07:00The Long, Lonely Road<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We have been waiting to visit Andy for three weeks, and to see if he was staying in the Eloy facility. We got a letter from him last week so he's still there. Whenever an inmate is transferred to a new facility there is a waiting period of two weeks before they can have visitors. It's been over two weeks. We drove up to Eloy expecting to see him today. The first thing we heard when we walked in the door was the prison being in shut-down mode, but not the section Andy is in. We showed our ID, then the clerk says to me, "you're not cleared to visit." Well, we checked that before coming and was told I did have clearance. Oh, well, at least one of us was going to visit with him. The clerk told his dad to take off his glasses, watch, shoes, belt, his keys, and give me the change he had in his pockets. We had been there about 45 minutes by this time. His dad goes through the metal detector, sits in a chair waiting to be escorted to the visitor's center. Fifteen minutes passes and the clerk receives a phone call saying Andy was still on intake status and couldn't have visitors. Grrrrrr! </div>
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We must choose well what we do because the consequences of our actions is a long, lonely road indeed.</div>
Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01483161275133924693noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4979033703308359401.post-47304643117280398232012-08-05T17:11:00.000-07:002012-08-05T17:13:31.813-07:00Justice and Mercy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Once upon a time there was a young horse by the name of Morgan Morning. He was a beautiful little horse with a shiny coat of dark hair. Morgan love his mother, but he wanted to see what the world was like away from the safety of her voice. She would often have to go looking for him and encourage him to come home. One day Morgan noticed a curious little animal scurrying through the woods. Morgan remembered his mother telling him he was not to wonder far, but this little creature was calling to him. So Morgan followed. The furry little grey and white animal with rings around his eyes jumped across the stream, hitting the well placed rocks with his feet. Morgan tried, but he fell into the water. The water began to carry him down toward a very loud noise. Morgan then saw the waterfall. He tried to paddle upstream, but the current was too strong. Morgan went down, down, down the raging waters into the pool at the very bottom. He sputtered as he came up to the top and reluctantly made his way to the sand at the side the pool. His leg was hurt badly. </div>
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The curious little raccoon saw this happen, and ran to tell Morgan's mother in the meadow. She galloped to the cliff overlooking the pool. There was Morgan at the bottom. Morgan's mother choked back a sob as she realized nothing could be done. He could not climb up the cliff. And they could not go to the bottom to rescue him. Morgan neighed softly and said, "I love you mother and I understand."</div>
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He lay on the cold, damp sand dreaming of his family and his home. For three days he couldn't move. On the fourth day Morgan woke up to a beacon of light shining directly on him. Then a booming voice asked why he was sleeping on the cold, cold sand. </div>
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"My name is Morgan," he said. "I am here because I didn't listen to my mother and foolishly fell from the rocks. Now I am waiting to die, for no one can help me." With that he began to cry and cry.</div>
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"Morgan, we can help you. But there are conditions. You will never be able to go back to the green meadow where your mother and others like you live. You will be changed into something wonderful, but different than those living on this earth. We can and we will save you, but you must decide."</div>
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Morgan thought of a gentler time when he had played in the meadow and nuzzled his mother and others of his kind. But Morgan knew his only hope of continuing was to accept. Beams of light began to penetrate his wounded leg, soon he stood up. His leg was healed. Slowly he began to follow the river, but not before taking one more look at the waterfall. There at the top stood his mother. "Good-bye, mother. I'll always love you." (Adapted from Morgan Morning by Stephen Cosgrove)</div>
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Twice we have been to see Andy at the jail and both times we've been turned away because he was on restriction from any and all communication with those on the "outside." I thought of this children's story. I know mercy cannot rob justice, but I also know "mercy claimeth all which is her own, and thus, none but the truly penitent are saved." (Alma 42:24) I hope Andy decides to accept.</div>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01483161275133924693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4979033703308359401.post-69663208901601623042012-07-27T17:14:00.000-07:002012-07-27T17:15:15.799-07:00THE LATEST UPDATE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've seen Andy several times since he's been in Pima County Jail. But he finished the hearings and the disposition of his AZ case a couple of weeks ago. I'm surprised he is still here, but we do get to see him easily enough so I'll accept it. And when he goes back to Eloy, who knows if he'll get to stay and for how long. He does seem to be a different young man than he was two years ago. He's clean, he's accepting responsibility, he's making plans for his life. These are all good things. I do get dark feelings occasionally, sadness for the choices he made and wondering why or what could have made the difference. But I push those aside and remember the tender mercies he and I have been blessed with. These compensatory graces show me that he is in God's care, and we are loved by merciful Father in heaven. Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01483161275133924693noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4979033703308359401.post-36924756260570279432012-06-17T19:42:00.000-07:002012-06-17T19:42:57.478-07:00Joyfully Delicious<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRGu2NCgl2ZNLoPy_punptVfVWLYGjHiYfc__8lIZicwkSOo2cGGQXHHmv8Ww7UESf4vNCuw_KHxsyzdAKgagWvg1Mo41uEtja8XPMVKZxfOP6ijOQsK6amNJSg9xHVxJasJXrAXOatsQ/s1600/IMG_0365.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRGu2NCgl2ZNLoPy_punptVfVWLYGjHiYfc__8lIZicwkSOo2cGGQXHHmv8Ww7UESf4vNCuw_KHxsyzdAKgagWvg1Mo41uEtja8XPMVKZxfOP6ijOQsK6amNJSg9xHVxJasJXrAXOatsQ/s400/IMG_0365.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">In Alma 32 we read about "experimenting upon the word" by planting the seed of faith, nourishing the tree (the word), and waiting with diligence and patience, looking forward to the fruit that is most precious, which is sweet above all that is sweet, and which is white above all that is white, yea and pure above all that is pure.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Andy was in California, then he was sent to AZ, off again within a few weeks to Oklahoma where he thought he would settle in for the next few years. We got a phone call a week ago from him telling us he was being transferred again, but didn't know where. On Thursday he called and said he was in Pima County Jail, just down the street! When in the La Palma correctional facility the first time he asked me for names and addresses so he could begin to take care of unfinished legal business. A hearing was scheduled and he was sent to AZ once again. We were able to visit him on Friday for thirty minutes on a video monitor. It has been almost two years since I have seen him. And although via phone and a fuzzy video my visit with him was the fruit that is sweet, white and pure. It was joyfully delicious.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The "word" for me was "And I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs, even while you are in bondage ... And now it came to pass that the burdens which were laid upon Alma and his brethren were made light, yea, the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord."</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I stand as a witness that the Lord God does visit His people in their afflictions. </div>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01483161275133924693noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4979033703308359401.post-50173939827930040682012-05-14T17:23:00.002-07:002012-05-14T17:23:23.356-07:00Another Tender Mercy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The prison bus dropped Andy off in Sayre, Oklahoma to spend the next however many years, not Mississippi! What a surprise! Still far away from home, but at least closer than the deep southern state. I wanted to find out if there were any LDS services at the prison so I checked on lds.org's meetinghouse locator. I called the Bishop of the nearest Ward to ask if he knew of any members who might have a prison ministry. There aren't. I noticed the town of Edmond, Ok on the locator. I have a friend who lives there who just happens to be the Stake President. I asked the Bishop's wife (he wasn't home) if the name of their Stake President is Kevin Graves. YES! Sister Turner also told me there is an LDS guard at the prison who belongs to their Ward, and that my friend is Andy's Stake President! Needless to say I've talked to my friend and he is going to do all he can to reach out to my son. He is thrilled with the opportunity to fellowship him. I remember when Kevin was in our Bishopric here, how tickled he would get as he visited the Primary and watched Andy, as a Sunbeam, crawl around me and under my dress when I would conduct Primary. He knows my son, and he loves him. What a sweet Mother's Day gift to me. </div>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01483161275133924693noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4979033703308359401.post-7587490489531282502012-04-27T11:39:00.001-07:002012-04-27T11:40:37.194-07:00A Little Rain Must Fall ...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We got a letter from Andy yesterday telling us he was being transferred to Mississippi on April 25th--a 39 hour uncomfortable bus trip shackled in chains, as he explained. So he's there today. My heart broke for him. He sounded resolved that this is the way it is, but if I could read between the lines, I'm sure he feels a loss being moved from his home state. What makes me sad is he won't ever have any visitors in Mississippi; we could have visited here. But after having a such a sweet tender mercy (the brother I met in the temple did visit with Andy in the La Palma correctional facility!) in the temple I have to trust and believe that God knows what is best for my son and His son. </div>
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I've been thinking about something for a long time, probably more so since I've been volunteering at Superior Court. I have watched orange clad prisoners, handcuffed together, being led into court. They are there for a wide variety of reasons. I look at those men and women and think about my handcuffed son wearing prison clothing in some remote prison far away from home. Then I remember the sweet baby I gave birth to. He was pure, he was innocent, clean, perfect in every way. Every human being came into the world that very same way. I loved that baby, and I love the man he is now. I pray he will be protected and he will soon understand why he is where he is.</div>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01483161275133924693noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4979033703308359401.post-74477660368341178412012-04-16T21:12:00.000-07:002012-04-16T21:12:37.186-07:00A Tender Mercy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ0d_TE5kHDf0eR1rLNqsu0UDUh5n6kIkBKSd6U50JiZxX-SWz5HzC1-sbvM4gqhAvJpi-W1RsURew_AwQ8VZL9N-vckSERVd2nR8hJ1eRvIyLE6N19xsYFchXQjwUOaRRD1BmRqTEChU/s1600/IMG_0537.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ0d_TE5kHDf0eR1rLNqsu0UDUh5n6kIkBKSd6U50JiZxX-SWz5HzC1-sbvM4gqhAvJpi-W1RsURew_AwQ8VZL9N-vckSERVd2nR8hJ1eRvIyLE6N19xsYFchXQjwUOaRRD1BmRqTEChU/s400/IMG_0537.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">In March Andy wrote and said he was being transferred from California to either Oklahoma or Mississippi. His dad looked on the California Prison website and read that Andy was sent to La Palma Correctional Center in Eloy, Arizona! We kept hoping for a letter from our son to verify that he was sent there and how he felt about it, but no word. I felt some concern, but can't really do too much about that except pray, of course.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Tuesday I was in the temple sealing office waiting to participate in the sealing ordinance for about 50 family names. While I was sitting there a fellow was asked if he was still doing his prison ministry. I perked up immediately. Then he was asked where? My jawed dropped and tears filled my eyes when he said, "La Palma." I whispered to him that my son had just been transferred there. He asked me for Andy's name and said he would do what he can to invite him to their meeting on Thursday nights. The temple worker came up to me and said, "I hope you realize you have just experienced a tender mercy from the Lord, and that happens all the time in the temple."</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">That very day when I got home a letter was waiting for me from Andy. He wrote that his window faces the southwest towards the Tortolita mountains near our home. Another tender mercy. </div><br />
Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01483161275133924693noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4979033703308359401.post-64976813218872623482011-12-31T14:54:00.000-08:002011-12-31T14:54:55.501-08:00A Christmas Gift<div style="text-align: justify;">In 2005 Andy went to Hawaii with us. I have a picture of him giving me a big hug in front of this beautiful waterfall on the Big Island. He's not in this picture taken by me in October, 2011.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--p_UP8QQ-rY/Tv-KUhctcuI/AAAAAAAABO8/mFb6a9dlogk/s1600/IMG_0256.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--p_UP8QQ-rY/Tv-KUhctcuI/AAAAAAAABO8/mFb6a9dlogk/s320/IMG_0256.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I miss him, but either I have put up a wall, blocked out that part of my life, or I feel at peace. I'm not really sure, I just know I don't think about him in prison too often. He is in every prayer I utter, but I don't cry very much anymore because he is serving time. Our family was given a neat gift this Christmas to help bring him back into my thoughts. We were getting ready to sit down for Christmas dinner which was prepared and served a few days before Christmas because someone was flying out the next day. The doorbell rang. I answered the door, but for a few seconds didn't recognize the young man standing on the steps. Then I realized it was a kid Andy hung out with in middle school and years after. Of course I invited him to dinner which he accepted. We had a delightful Christmas dinner laughing and reminiscing about him and Andy. This young man lives in Colorado and was visiting his family.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">After Todd left I thought to myself, what are the chances of this happening? Was he led by the spirit to visit us at that time on this very day? I believe he was because of the sweet thoughts and memories that were generated in my heart of my youngest son. I am very grateful. </div>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01483161275133924693noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4979033703308359401.post-33182307177316391422011-12-04T17:45:00.000-08:002011-12-04T17:45:17.674-08:00The Reason for the Season<div style="text-align: justify;">We get a letter from Andy about every two or three weeks. He can't call us like he used to, even collect. It's good to get letters from him, and I think it's good for him to write because it gives him a chance to think deeper than, "hi mumsy, hi pops!" I don't miss his phone calls, but I do like to read his letters. He is changing. I can tell by what he says that he's beginning to feel remorse for what he has done to his family. He's understanding that life is not just about him, but also involves that group of people he grew up with. He admits the wrong we do affects and hurts others, especially those closest to us. I will not expect nor hold my breath that "he's a changed man." Not yet anyway. I believe that takes time, lots of it, and there hasn't been enough time.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJzWPHxnppFoTwkQ464ka_fowsfFgAnAKW1QFdAyzniCNSwVLuxchWbG9v1sngnp_nC8oiJjAKJmcatmKjWQLe0eBjvfBx_cxKYs1GdzZ_dRJt9x_YqrKEnsoHvv1CXSDq4N-iERLWEa8/s1600/IMG_0677.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJzWPHxnppFoTwkQ464ka_fowsfFgAnAKW1QFdAyzniCNSwVLuxchWbG9v1sngnp_nC8oiJjAKJmcatmKjWQLe0eBjvfBx_cxKYs1GdzZ_dRJt9x_YqrKEnsoHvv1CXSDq4N-iERLWEa8/s400/IMG_0677.JPG" width="400" />.</a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I visited Temple Square in Salt Lake City last week to look at the Christmas lights, oh, what a beautiful heavenly land. My seven year old grandson said almost reverently, "Grandma, it is so beautiful." He could feel the Christmas spirit or rather the spirit of Christmas. I could, too. This is a picture from the outside of the visitor's center of the Christus statue. It looks as if the Christ is floating in the air looking down on His people. I know there will come a day when Andy will repent fully, and he will be forgiven by the Great Healer. That is the hope I cling to. </div>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01483161275133924693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4979033703308359401.post-58541298002105017082011-09-01T16:02:00.000-07:002011-09-01T16:07:57.128-07:00Allegory of the Little Stream<div style="text-align: justify;">I went to college a long time ago at Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah. In the summertime I make a yearly trek back to the school for some enrichment education. This year I found something had changed on the lower part of campus. Let me set the scene for you: BYU is located in the foothills of the majestic Wasatch Mountains. They are spectacular. When I was a student, the southern hill leading to campus was well manicured with walkways, grass, lots of trees and a botany pond. Following one of the trails you would see a slow moving stream meandering its way down and around the hill. It was pretty, serene and peaceful. Many engagements have taken place at the Botany Pond. And unfortunately since "there needs be opposition in all things" danger lurked at night as many young coeds have been attacked there as well. We were always warned never to go through the area alone at night.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">I heard the BYU Ground's Crew had been consructing with rocks and waterfalls on the already beautiful pathway and stream. I wanted to check it out and this is what I found: </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs4NszLFKMNXRhyphenhyphenPA_1tZmAJJzz1kGGEqdRzdo0YCUOtRHBoGNhE78vHJgLori9QVbbdsXsS6BKNZSecgrCQCnqxctwHdxIgdYJdMZc3S6eE8-p-1gkDGt2qmn6t8Ez7NAOIKd67zqqs4/s1600/IMG_0114.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs4NszLFKMNXRhyphenhyphenPA_1tZmAJJzz1kGGEqdRzdo0YCUOtRHBoGNhE78vHJgLori9QVbbdsXsS6BKNZSecgrCQCnqxctwHdxIgdYJdMZc3S6eE8-p-1gkDGt2qmn6t8Ez7NAOIKd67zqqs4/s320/IMG_0114.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">One of many waterfalls along the walkway.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnqtRLrKe9sz9RZeyh9SVH7fRNNSueoAqVOGnFRcS5dE0XE2o1GRsQ457Nbq0NS1WagFpq5bd41Oj6zKH91D8Xk6oVwpayIYUUdfNlTwIot0XJ5lTW-IVX1147tZWB3rqR9TI7_eTTx3g/s1600/IMG_0115.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span id="goog_1662416593"></span><span id="goog_1662416594"></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh87XzOrXcoWOVQBIhGzXieJwC90vvseTIgdcDA5pK1GsS4-9FrOPhniTBGU7fuTcUpRZ-Z0PQpbooFqWIHdtw0O2e0XwzntzqXHGCZVKF4hxQzXSZ2QgHIOB-wfu0YvcaLgMzRq_uc1zA/s1600/IMG_0126.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh87XzOrXcoWOVQBIhGzXieJwC90vvseTIgdcDA5pK1GsS4-9FrOPhniTBGU7fuTcUpRZ-Z0PQpbooFqWIHdtw0O2e0XwzntzqXHGCZVKF4hxQzXSZ2QgHIOB-wfu0YvcaLgMzRq_uc1zA/s320/IMG_0126.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">This almost looks like an ancient Greek ruin. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I have been studying the Allegory of the Tame and Wild Olive Tree found in The Book of Mormon, Jacob 5. The chapter heading says the tame and wild olive tree are a likeness to Israel and the Gentiles. I see a meaning more personal to me. The Lord of the vineyard would not give up on the decaying trees, he grafted, digged about, pruned and nourished His trees. He even planted some in the nethermost part of the garden where possibly the ground wasn't as fertile. I might be simplifying this very long chapter in the book of Jacob, but I draw the sweet conclusion that I must not ever give up on my children. <br />
<br />
So what does this allegory have to do with the little stream? The walkway along the south end of campus was lovely. Then servants digged about, raked, placed local stones, figured out how to make waterfalls, and nourished the new plants to make the area at the south end of campus even more lovely. I wonder if the water or the pathway or if the rocks could talk they might say it was painful to be changed. Andy is being changed. It is painful. Could it be more painful for me than him? Could I be the one who is being changed?<br />
<br />
Andy was sentenced a few weeks ago: 12 years in a state correctional facility, PRISON. I dreaded the day when he would call and tell us the consequences of his court hearings. Just thinking about it made me sick to my stomach. After hearing that 12 years actually means 6 years and the fact he has served nine months already, he may be there less than 5 years. Certainly long enough, but hopefully long enough for a change. I hope both of us change for the better as we are being pruned, grafted, and digged about. Andy might be in the nethermost part of the vineyard, but he will still be nourished so he can grow and produce sweet, edible fruit. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01483161275133924693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4979033703308359401.post-38055232129518678262011-07-09T20:52:00.000-07:002011-07-09T20:52:33.475-07:00"You Knew What I Was Before You Picked Me Up"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiYEHyTKa73rD_1ThrKw-1VtGeDEfyXPPNZDA0q6wb5GjN82-WtT1EozuJsUMWN1Lpgrl1ISO-Jgne_jBz-Xc9Q_n-ZzKL8SaOhtl1Jyhms5SUr51VoWsGVPgOhGC9S4mGCwbbGGYa7xs/s1600/2011--%2528MAY%2529+020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiYEHyTKa73rD_1ThrKw-1VtGeDEfyXPPNZDA0q6wb5GjN82-WtT1EozuJsUMWN1Lpgrl1ISO-Jgne_jBz-Xc9Q_n-ZzKL8SaOhtl1Jyhms5SUr51VoWsGVPgOhGC9S4mGCwbbGGYa7xs/s640/2011--%2528MAY%2529+020.jpg" width="545" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I love the Indian legend about the young brave who was sent into the mountains for his initiation into the tribe's elite brotherhood of warriors, a very desired place to be for a young man. Before his descent from the top of the mountain the young Indian brave noticed a snake at his feet. The snake said he was very cold and wondered if the young brave could put him in his pocket just for a little while. The soon to be warrior asked the snake if he was crazy. "But I'm cold, just for a short time. Please. I won't hurt you, I promise." Soon the snake was riding warm and comfortable inside the brave's buckskin shirt. Just as they reached the base of the mountain, the snake bit the Indian boy, forcing his poisonous venom inside the boy's veins. "Why did you do that for? You said you wouldn't hurt me," screamed the boy. "You knew what I was when you piked me up," hissed the deadly snake. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">The moral of the story is, don't touch anything that has the potential to harm you, even though it may seem innocent and harmless. <br />
</div>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01483161275133924693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4979033703308359401.post-79605024287937397872011-05-16T06:44:00.000-07:002011-05-16T06:44:54.706-07:00Nothing New<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3uxIVhb1Zu1InWxUPyzaRLSnxpr519AZi_sK53MuZHRLsTCJEIe3OmxV7j4fjGFGtkRSEqFVaIE516jsco4e_UnKSoOxf-1nJQtSBBut0W7FlIQP6j6vAFVXXsU_00O0Ce-JzbbsEgSA/s1600/mesa-mormon-temple4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3uxIVhb1Zu1InWxUPyzaRLSnxpr519AZi_sK53MuZHRLsTCJEIe3OmxV7j4fjGFGtkRSEqFVaIE516jsco4e_UnKSoOxf-1nJQtSBBut0W7FlIQP6j6vAFVXXsU_00O0Ce-JzbbsEgSA/s320/mesa-mormon-temple4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">Nothing new has happened except that the public defender is trying to get the prosecutor thrown out for misconduct concerning Andy's case. Allegedly the attorney for the prosecution was tweeting, texting, emailing about the case and that she is "going to get him." How the defense attorney found this out, I have no idea, but in the meantime more time passes. Which is not a bad thing because it counts as time he has served, and where he is right now is a better place to be serving than in another. His optimism has waned, and he has sounded more discouraged the last few times we have talked. I don't know that he has turned any kind of corner or is ready to make changes in his life. </div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">Andy's dad and I were talking to a guy about our children the other day. We said we had five children, the oldest a disciplined athlete who trains endurance athletes to do the same, a daughter who is a therapist for at-risk youth, one son going to medical school, and the other an Orthopaedic Surgeon. He expressed his amazement at such accomplishments and said what great parents we are, blah, blah, blah. I reached over, touched his arm and said, "don't get too impressed, we have one son in jail." This son keeps us humble, but not ashamed. I will not hide in a closet because of the choices he has made. I think that is a huge part of my healing from this sad story. I still have hope for this son. His life is not over; he can become all he was sent to the the earth to become. It might be plan B or even plan C, but there is hope. And should his life end before that miracle of change takes place, I believe the opportunity for progression will be there for him, for all of us. </div>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01483161275133924693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4979033703308359401.post-4802886735008274292011-03-12T21:52:00.000-08:002011-03-13T07:49:45.037-07:00Where are the Mountains?<div style="text-align: justify;">In the background of this picture are a range of fairly high and distinctive desert mountains. On this particular day the area was experiencing strong winds which stirred up the surrounding desert and naked farming fields. Visibility in the valley was very low. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeUhOucLFLFoFeiHW0LrzgqyX9-9HmSHJRwPIqGWjvXMZdMDf5S9oLnkmT3KBifFmQF0RBbQF63q7AW4krHqEFz002Me-GSVlj15W2NlAmY7TJSmYmSe4QsNfWQa0PnuKcT6Ka3zleYKo/s1600/2011--%2528MAR%2529+011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeUhOucLFLFoFeiHW0LrzgqyX9-9HmSHJRwPIqGWjvXMZdMDf5S9oLnkmT3KBifFmQF0RBbQF63q7AW4krHqEFz002Me-GSVlj15W2NlAmY7TJSmYmSe4QsNfWQa0PnuKcT6Ka3zleYKo/s400/2011--%2528MAR%2529+011.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Could it be that at times in our lives we are unable to see the truth because of what the winds of the adversary blow in our direction. Perhaps we sometimes even go looking for the wind, the dust, the dirt. By late afternoon the wind had died down and the dust was clearing out. I could even see some of the mountains. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Can there be a lesson in this? Our vision will clear if we can just wait for the dust storms of temptation to quiet down. I had to be out in the storm for about thirty minutes; I had grit in my hair, my teeth were crunching together, and sand stuck to my face. When a person seeks for the dirt, we will undoubtedly come in contact with it. The answer is to wait out that storm. Stay in a safe place until the wind dies down, or the temptation is gone. <br />
<br />
Our son still sits in an LA county jail. He's there because he didn't wait until the dust storm or the temptation was gone. The hope is someday he will be clean, and he will choose to stay in a safe place. </div>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01483161275133924693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4979033703308359401.post-80309761258595192612010-12-31T23:55:00.000-08:002010-12-31T23:55:21.202-08:00It's a New Year!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO48u6vzC1ycMAmYKc_Crc48aUUZwunOobxMkQJ98Pe5bSoQ3aOBt2NXbbyQPUfwNvY8J-s4fcDgqaD5XKwy9_6TDh6iZlU7c929CMWG1rfd7GTmN0r0PmMSpRKirymF4oPgm9IjJW8Ic/s1600/2010-08+%2528AUG%2529+029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO48u6vzC1ycMAmYKc_Crc48aUUZwunOobxMkQJ98Pe5bSoQ3aOBt2NXbbyQPUfwNvY8J-s4fcDgqaD5XKwy9_6TDh6iZlU7c929CMWG1rfd7GTmN0r0PmMSpRKirymF4oPgm9IjJW8Ic/s640/2010-08+%2528AUG%2529+029.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One amazing cairn!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">A "cairn" is a trail marker, usually rocks stacked on top of each other, indicating which trail hikers need to continue on. They aren't directional, but placed next to the trail to eliminate confusion. I just read a book called "Death Clouds" about six young Boy Scouts who got caught in a severe winter storm in the Santa Rita Mts. near Tucson, AZ. Three of the scouts ventured ahead on the trail to the summit of Mt. Baldy, but took a wrong turn coming off of the mountain, ended up on a side trail, and died from exposure to unusual freezing weather. Did they miss the cairn, or was there even a pile of rocks on the right trail?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Andy has had trail markers his whole young life, but for some reason he has chosen to ignore what could have kept him on the right trail. Why do some people choose to ignore the warning signs, to disregard what will save their lives? I wonder if he understands that today.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I read my 2010 journal where I shared all the stress associated with our son. The past couple of months since he's been in jail have been a warm spring day with all the freedom one feels running barefoot through the green grass, hearing the birds sing, and feeling the sun sending warmth and light. I almost feel guilty saying that. For some of Andy's life he had the capability of bringing light and warmth to those around him. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">There have been several hearings where the prosecutor and the defense attorney are trying to work out a deal. And after each hearing where Andy rejects what the offer is, the next one is worse. I can only hope and pray he will be sentenced fairly and what will do the most good for him. Because I have no control over what will happen. That was relinquished when he chose not to follow the trail markers. It not only affects the one walking through life, but others as well. </div>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01483161275133924693noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4979033703308359401.post-7763465851244904152010-12-14T11:27:00.000-08:002010-12-14T13:16:20.186-08:00Tis the Season to be Jolly!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3tGzaIwQWTG9JV-RE6P4SE9VVaDwzhDtMB38K0Tmq2lvk7cyyi6AMH3whx9_LvdjseXKAbG9skikBlsUs7nKACHFPZzHStGpHHQqK8_gpWeB23QMF7QLCGjkjHQeKBIg5SOkp29fndVQs/s1600/P7140376.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3tGzaIwQWTG9JV-RE6P4SE9VVaDwzhDtMB38K0Tmq2lvk7cyyi6AMH3whx9_LvdjseXKAbG9skikBlsUs7nKACHFPZzHStGpHHQqK8_gpWeB23QMF7QLCGjkjHQeKBIg5SOkp29fndVQs/s400/P7140376.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">I had been having some major struggles with feelings of worth as a mom and wife, and even a human being because of the trials I have been "blessed" with. I mean I've gone through this before; it's nothing new, but I was letting the challenges get to me. And once again, I've decided to smile in spite of them and look for what's good in life. I am sad to say I haven't let Andy's circumstances get me too far down. I don't know if it's because of distractions or I'm pushing feelings back in the dark recesses of my mind or the spirit is helping me have confidence that he is where he needs to be and that he is safe. I like the last one, but maybe hard to accept.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">I haven't talked to Andy in nearly a month. His dad went to the jail outside of Los Angeles to visit with him two days over a weekend lately. He said he was good and even content. That is the biggest worry for me that this does become his life and these "roommates" are his community. I wonder how Christmas is going to be for him? Unfortunately he has spent a few over the past several years locked up. How can he stand it?<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Christmas has always meant home and being with loved ones for me. </div></div><br />
I will keep trying to make this a jolly season for myself and those around me. Andy is in someone else's hands and I can't do anything about it. <br />
Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01483161275133924693noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4979033703308359401.post-28504856621268357442010-11-25T13:17:00.000-08:002010-11-25T13:17:59.454-08:00Life's a Bully!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJTB0TbV8EoGecZN6XIlT4y5xiAVsjazrvJfW8OG-dmfyuK4YJ27SY1Wca-0acbc1j3cn7qlHDozHf57HdWEaVaTO24bcvWsxM84JBIPH_DBP5F5BnIwYtpFSItTsQK2-0ba9Q6Dxn8v4R/s1600/P8220014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJTB0TbV8EoGecZN6XIlT4y5xiAVsjazrvJfW8OG-dmfyuK4YJ27SY1Wca-0acbc1j3cn7qlHDozHf57HdWEaVaTO24bcvWsxM84JBIPH_DBP5F5BnIwYtpFSItTsQK2-0ba9Q6Dxn8v4R/s400/P8220014.JPG" width="400" /> </a></div>There's a lot of talk these days about the dangers of bullying. These are kids and adults who intimidate, threaten, poke fun, and who are mean spirited towards an individual who seems to be weaker. You know the kind of person I'm talking about; you've seen it many times. <br />
<br />
I think Life can sometimes fit into the category of being a bully. I have felt intimidated and threatened by Life and her circumstances for me. I suppose Life could be male, but since Life should be nurturing I'll say it's female. And I wonder if the millions who suffer from depression or other mental illnesses haven't been bullied by Life.<br />
<br />
Today I was looking at a video of our family that was taken up in the mountains at Thanksgiving when Andy was just two years old. I guess I had forgotten how sweet and adorable he was because waves of sadness, confusion, and regret washed over me. What happened to him, to others in my family? At that moment I determined that Life was beginning to bully me again, by making me feel bad, lacking, and worthless. <br />
<br />
I believe in God, and I believe He sent us here on earth, not to be bullied by Life, but to have joy. So who is really doing the bullying? Is it he who can't have life? He who delights in our sorrow and frustration? He bullies us into believing we are less than who we really are. I suppose if someone did not believe in God or this "son of the morning" then it could be Life doing the bullying. I'm not sure I want to label Life as Satan. <br />
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Whoever is doing the bullying, I'm not going to take it any longer. I'm going to be strong and stand up to the taunts, the teasing, the threats, and intimidation. I have a son going to prison because he committed a crime. He is safe, he is paying for his bad deeds, he can begin again. I have been blessed. Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01483161275133924693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4979033703308359401.post-67955240984077610432010-11-14T15:15:00.000-08:002010-11-14T15:16:01.543-08:00A Painted Picture<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4-mr9WuGLGvYGKVfRWrmt7EmKDq-iyJNJlYTGPZZk24r0Mz1nWXmiv7Yqao0yQyMaFwWIG0tPN46MbCvH04HqQcmE-ygWGk6zIKXDhgB6VF80tdornCZvPbrGqC05rsUSxWi9IqRlKio/s1600/2010-08+%2528AUG%2529+030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4-mr9WuGLGvYGKVfRWrmt7EmKDq-iyJNJlYTGPZZk24r0Mz1nWXmiv7Yqao0yQyMaFwWIG0tPN46MbCvH04HqQcmE-ygWGk6zIKXDhgB6VF80tdornCZvPbrGqC05rsUSxWi9IqRlKio/s320/2010-08+%2528AUG%2529+030.jpg" width="277" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">I am not an artist. I've tried landscape, water colors, stick figures, and various means of an artistic endeavor, and I can safely say, "I'm not an artist." Maybe if I spent more time, tried harder, or took lessons, I could possibly show some talent. What I do know is that I can paint a picture with words. All of us can to one extent or another. I believe that in the two previous posts about my son, I painted a pretty grim picture of him. I'm sorry. So in his defense I want to paint another picture of him, this time showing who he really is, and who he really can become.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">When I was a little over seven months pregnant with Andy I received some devastating news about a family member that would completely change my life. I kept the faith, was hopeful and concentrated on the other four children as well as take care of myself in the last few weeks of pregnancy. After our son was born I would gaze into his dark, penetrating eyes with gratitude that he was born, and feel the whisperings of the spirit that I was loved. I knew this baby had just left the presence of Heavenly Hosts who were aware of my life and circumstances, and I felt that he, too, had that knowledge. He brought joy and comfort to me as a newborn can. He was a fussy baby, but I was even grateful for that so I could focus on helping him be comfortable rather than cry about my trial. </div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">Maybe this connection with my baby son from the very beginning is what makes his being where he is even more painful. But, I would feel this way if any of my children were sitting in a jail cell. This has made me realize that every man or woman who is in prison began as a newborn babe, innocent and pure. Perhaps that is what makes the consequence the tragedy.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">Andy grew up being loved and being taught right from wrong. He attended church with the family, he loved to sing the songs and participate in the classes as a young boy, though he was a little antsy and didn't like to sit still for very long, and some teachers were kind and some were not. Many told me that he was all over the room, but when they asked him what the lesson was about, he could always give the right answer. He listened, just didn't look like it. It became obvious that Andy was smarter than the average child.<br />
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This youngest brother would do and say things that endeared him to his older brothers and sister. One time we were traveling through Utah to Oregon for my mother's funeral. We hit a bad snow storm south of Beaver late at night. There was very little traffic to make a path in the snow on the Interstate 15. His dad was driving our mini-van, kids were all on the edge of their seats in full attention because of the treacherousness of the road conditions. Sure enough we hit black ice and began to slide, then turn, slide some more, and turn completely around heading south in the north bound lane. We did come to a complete stop and luckily there weren't any cars heading our way. The van was in total silence until Andy said, "hey that was fun, just like Disneyland, let's do it again!" The palpable feeling of horror diminished immediately, and a chorus of laughter began. Another endearing story is his desire for a "oomp attack." Sorry, I can't share this, family secret! And I almost forgot about his specialty sandwich, to die for! <br />
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We have always had a pile of lumber laying around, nails, hammers, glue, duct tape; you name it; the kids' dad made sure they could be creative and build whenever they wanted to. Andy took advantage of it. Sometimes I would just shake my head in wonder at his finished projects. Amazing! For a school project he picked Amelia Earhart as his subject. There was a globe, wire to hold the airplane, as well as a zip line, little figures, and a video camera to capture an award winning production. <br />
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I have never felt hatred from my son, even when I would lecture, threaten, or throw away his drugs. He is a survivor, a positive thinker. When I think of Andy, what can I see when I close my eyes (a practice of mine when I seek revelation)? I see a young man lifting others in a destitute situation; I see a young man wearing a white shirt and tie blessing someone; I see a clean, healthy man. Repentance and the atonement are real. He can become what I see. </div>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01483161275133924693noreply@blogger.com1