Feeling the Spirit

August 11, 2015

I don't know how the Spirit can testify stronger to my heart, that Joseph Smith is a Prophet of God, than he did this morning. Not many people were coming to the center, so I decided to watch the movie "Joseph Smith the Prophet of the Restoration."  It is touching, to say the least. I was filled with the Spirit of the Lord as I watched.

Joseph Smith

I could hear people in the map room; so I looked out the door: Roger needed my help.  There were two families there, and I could tell they shouldn't be combined for the tour.  I took one of the families, a father, mother and son with me into the other room and started to tell the story of Joseph Smith and the First Vision.  The room was filled with the Spirit of the Lord to the point of bringing tears to all of our eyes.  These were members of the Church, and we had a connection that was wonderful.  I taught, they listened and commented; we had an experience of beauty.  

As I finished the tour the mother pulled me aside and told me that her son had been called to this, the Manchester, New Hampshire Mission, but because of health reasons was not able to come.  It was hard on them, living in Utah, when something like this happens, but he wanted to see and experience the Spirit of this mission.  I can truly say this was an amazing young man.  He will find a way to serve, even if it can't be here and now.

I know this gospel of Jesus Christ is true.  I know it with every part of my being.  I know that the atonement is real, it is for me.  I know that Joseph Smith is the prophet of the Restoration and because of his life and the trials he bore, through him, the Gospel of Jesus Christ is restored to the earth. While this earth is reeling from acceptance of sin, and the family is being torn to shreds by fads and trends, I know that my family is eternal, our choice is to serve God and His Son. I know that this Church is Christ's and it is lead by his Prophets. 

I love Jesus Christ, I love my Father in Heaven; they have shown their love for me by providing a way for me to return to them.

I look forward to the day when the Savior Jesus Christ returns to this earth. It is His and the fullness thereof.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANNE!

August 3, 2015

Today, if I was home in Utah, I would go out to my wildflower garden and cut the most beautiful, most colorful flowers in the garden.  I would put them in a "Pringles" can that had been wrapped with colored paper, put rocks in the bottom of the can to hold it firm, water them and take them to adorn a spot in Eden.

Anne was born August 3, 1976, in Ogden, Utah.  The umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck five times; each time there was a bearing down pain her heart would stop beating.  The urgency in the doctor's voice made me nervous. I was relieved when she was here and healthy.  I don't know if her birth was the reason I felt protective of her, but I seemed to be so from her earliest days.

Anne was three years old when we moved to Peterson.  She loved to play outside and would bring me wildflowers every day.  Many times the grasses in the field would hide her from my view; playing hide and seek was easy then.

There wasn't anything that didn't interest her; she wanted to try it all.  She knew if she wanted it badly enough she could do it.  She decided, in High School, that she wanted to be in the Jazz Band. She made it as the percussionist; she taught herself to play the bass guitar and played the drums in the parade. She was on the Seminary Council, and she was also on the ZCMI Teen Board.  She also loved to run, so she tried cross country, where she took the Region first place, and she also loved hurdles.  That was amazing to watch.

Anne's picture for Teen Board

Anne could do anything she set her mind to: she was a runner, a writer, a cook, a musician, a good friend to everyone she knew, but what she loved most of all was being a wife and mother.

Anne Petersen Creager 1976-2009

Life is not the same without her here.  She is missed every day. Her love of life made ours better and without her we would never have known the joy that she brought to this earth.

I love you Anne, Happy Birthday!

Roger wrote one of my favorite poems about Anne after she died.  I am adding it to this post:

Pumper Girls

Today, with my head in the palm of my hand,

Lying on the newly mowed lawn,

I listened for a message from Anne:

"Listen, Dad,"

She said softly:

"Stop brooding!

There is still bounce in those 

Three little girls' eyes.

They still climb on the swing set

And laugh.

'Look Grandpa, I'm a Pumper Girl!'

And one at a time they still rise

To the sun,

Hair flying like wondrous little

Egrets in a Florida marsh wind,

 Their feather plumes trying to be like those 

Of New York women.

"No more crying!"

She repeated.

"I'm the mother bird, and though I rose

Through the hurricane

Into the eye, where rest, peace,

And calm reign, I am not sad!

Surely I'll return to claim

The three little fledglings on the other side

Of the storm, when the Red of the rising

Sun will take us all to glory,

"Now, get up off the grass

And push those Pumper Girls!"

McCady, Maiya, MaLeah 2009