I have no idea what happened when I first started typing this, so here I go again. Last week one of the counselors in the RS called and asked if I would help with her lesson the next Sunday. The topic was on compassion. I thought a lot about it and decided that looking (for some one to help) and listening to the small voice or that sudden thought that comes to you and then acting on it. Dad said that he thought that compassion is learned. And this memory came to me.
When I was a little girl we lived out at Mission lake in Horton, Ks. My dad was the caretaker and it was an extremely popular place for people to go to. There was boating, swimming etc. I was probably 8 or 9 years and you would never know to look at me now, that I was kind of a frail child. The winters in Kansas can be extremely cold, especially when the north wind would blow. When it was really cold my folks wouldn't let me walk the 2 miles to school. At this time, it was during the depression, that the govt. had different projects going to try to help people get jobs. Anyway, at this time the REA hired boys, probably late teens, to work at the lake, I'm not sure what they did, but I remember them. I remember my mom saying to my dad on those bitterly cold days, "Bill, it's too cold for those boys to be out working in this cold. You go get them and bring them into the house." My dad did and the boys came into our warm house. We had a 'warm morning' pot bellied stove that heated the rest of the house. My mom would say to the boys that if she had more wood for the cook stove in the kitchen, she would pop some corn. Like a flash the boys would go out to the wood pile and bring in lots of wood and my mom would pop corn. Right next to our house was an apple orchard and after the harvest we would go out and pick up the windfalls and we would have a winters supply of apples. Just below the apple orchard was a field where they grew pop corn and again, after the harvest we would go and glean popcorn and then sit around and take it off the husks. So, we had apples and pop corn for the REA boys and for our family. What a treat it was. During those days the boys and I would play chinest checkers and I got really good. But looking back I wonder how many of those games they let me win. I still have the marbles and the chinese checker board. I treasure them.
Years later mom and dad and I moved to Idaho and when your grandpa and I moved to California they moved back to Kansas and bought the house they would live until my dad had to be moved to a rest home, and later so did my mom. Anyway, back to my story. When spring came my dad needed to have the space plowed up where he would plant his garden. We always had a hugh garden. So, dad called this one man in town and made arrangements for him to come and plow his garden spot. He came down and plowed my dad's garden and did what ever it was to smooth it out. When he finished my dad started to pay him and he said,"Bill, you don't have enough money in your wallet to pay me. You may not remember, but I was one of the boys that you and Mrs. Scott took in out of the cold back when I was just a boy."
I guess compassion is made up of many things, but learning is certainly one of them
Love,
Mom, Grandma and Great Grandma
HISTORY
A Little History:
Our story begins in Pocatello, Idaho, circa 1972, when the lovely Debby Christensen agreed to a first, though fateful date with admirer, David Croshaw. Long story-short, he bade her follow him, and they went arm-in-arm to the Logan, Utah temple for establishment of an eternal family unit, Generation 1, on May 23 1973.
From their first blissful summer in Salt Lake City, educational pursuits took them to Provo/Orem, Utah, birthplace of Leslie and Rebecca, and to San Francisco/Oakland California, birthplace of Colin and Matt. Then, for establishment of livelihood, expansion of the tribe with Abby and Dana, and for raising/unifying of Generation 2, it was back to the roots in Pocatello for a rewarding sojourn.
In time, driven by a raging, but commonly shared sense of adventure and independence, one-by-one, Generation 2 escaped the homeland to distant regions of the country and the world, each ultimately developing their own tribal expansions by pairing with worthy mates and initiating Generation 3.
Now sensing fulfillment of their purpose in Pocatello, Generation 1 has also left those roots and transplanted to Cascade Idaho, from which base, they anticipate more abundant contact with The Posterity, Generations 2 and 3, in the future. That contact however, awaits fulfillment of a call to LDS missionary service in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada, wherein they hope to help the state of the world by sharing the love of Jesus Christ.
So now, including Generation 0 (Grandma and Grandpa Christensen) home base includes Yuma, Arizona, Pocatello, Idaho, Cascade, Idaho, Vancouver, BC, Fort Lauderdale, Florida, Spokane, Washington, Boise, Idaho, Los Angeles, California, back to Boise, Idaho, and on and on (Generation 3+) to infinity.
Our Mission Statement:
This is the blog of our eternal family unit. Initiated years ago, it served well as a journal, but even more so, as an archive of our personal interaction. It was a gathering place, a confabulation instrument, a unifying force for four generations of widely dispersed and progressively prolific posterity, and their valued associates. Though it served these purposes well for many years, it eventually took a back seat to new-kids-on-the-block, Facebook, and Instagram, and was sadly forgotten.
We now move to resurrect this blog with an added functional purpose of archiving the missionary experiences of Generation 1, of their movements and activities as they participate with The Gathering of Israel in the land northward. In so doing, we hope that via their own comments and posts, this blog will again serve to gather and unify the posterity and their friends.
As in the past, that the young and vibrant may know the old and tired, that enduring bonds may be fostered and maintained, that experience and encouragement may be openly shared, that posterity may embrace truth, and that hearts may be knit together, we must resist detachment despite our geographic divergence. We shall do so here.
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3 comments:
Thank you for that. It is true- having been on the receiving end many, many, many times of someone's kindness who owed nothing in the world to me, I know who a little love and care can totally restore an ailing soul.
It also makes a recipient of such free love and care more loving, caring and compassionate. The kind of compassionate that leads to the all-important quality of pure charity. We all know the importance of charity and when one posesses it, they are certainly among the most-compassionate in this world.
This is the kind of example we can all live by- it reminds me very much of Elder Wirthlin's talk Saturday afternoon... and how heart-rending was it to see Elder Nelson come to Elder Wirthlin's side? Caring compassion is precisely what brings us closer to Christ.
What a great story Grandma. The best thing about it is, that man might have been willing to do the same service for someone else from part of the kindness your parents showed him.
It's like those commercials where one person does something nice for someone while a second person witnesses it, then they do something kind, someone else witness it and passes it on.
What great examples we have to learn from.
I love this story Grandma. When I was reading this I thought that it sounded just like something you would do for someone. I can see you had a great teacher. I love hearing stories about your parents . I'm pretty sure that they are probably members of the church by now! ;) You learned about compassion from your parents and I in turned learned about compassion from you and my mom, who you taught (if that makes any sense, sorry, it's late!) I love you!!
Becky
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