More Holiness Give Me: Corey's dad gone 12 years today

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Corey's dad gone 12 years today

Dear Bruce,

It has always disappointed me that you never got to see how I turned out. I was just sort of a new mom when you died. My oldest was only 4 and I was pregnant with our third. I really wanted you to see the kind of mom I grew to be. I know you would be really proud of me and the job I am doing. I know you would be proud of the boys I am raising that carry your name for you. I have stood on the graves of your parents knowing that I am raising their posterity and promising to raise men of God.

My oldest girls have love for you as they do remember you some. My baby carries the fire you carried when you would ride that old feisty horse, Apache. That is how I love to remember you, on that spirited horse that you loved even though no one else did. Wise with experience and unfazed by his bluffs, smirky smile on you face.... at your happiest.

Love, Susan

(Bruce, ALWAYS easy is the saddle, me following, still learning)

1 comment:

Susan said...: Carolyn said.... I read your blog and had to have a little cry as you wrote about Bruce. We all wonder what he would think of us after the years that have passed. Somehow, I know that he knows what we are doing--and what kind of mother you are. I always wonder if he misses me as much as I have missed him. Maybe he does and that is why Roger and Dale came into my life when they did. I like to think so.; February 15, 2011 at 1:25 PM

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully, tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails.I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp.I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbors children.I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone's garden.I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder.I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived." — Marjorie Pay Hinckley

When the real history of mankind is fully disclosed, will it feature the echoes of gunfire or the shaping sound of lullabies? The great armistices made by military men or the peacemaking of women in homes and in neighborhoods? Will what happened in cradles and kitchens prove to be more controlling than what happened in congresses? When the surf of the centuries has made the great pyramids so much sand, the everlasting family will be standing, because it is a celestial institution, formed outside telestial time. The women of God know this. --Neal A. Maxwell

I know it is long but it is life altering!

C.S. Lewis- Meanwhile the cross comes before the crown and tomorrow is a Monday morning...It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you can talk to may one day be a creature which, if you say it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or other of these destinations. It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. But it is immortals who we joke with, work with, marry, snub and exploit - immortal horrors or everlasting splendours. This does not mean that we are to be perpetually solemn. We must play. But our merriment must be of the kind (and it is, in fact, the merriest kind) which exists between people who have from the outset, taken each other seriously - no flippancy, no superiority, no presumption, and our charity must be a real and costly love, with deep feeling for the sins in spite of which we love the sinner - no mere tolerance, or indulgence which parodies love as flippancy parodies merriment. Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your senses."

"Women of God can never be like women of the world. The world has enough women who are tough; we need women who are tender. There are enough women who are course; we need women who are kind. There are enough women who are rude; we need women who are refined. We have enough women of fame and fotune; we need more women of faith. We have enough greed; we need more goodness. We have enough vanity; we need more virtue. We have enough popularity; we need more purity." Margaret D. Naduald

" Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine as children do. It's not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own lights shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others. -Nelson Mandela-

More Holiness Give Me

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Corey's dad gone 12 years today

1 comment:

Hello, my old friend.

Where are you visiting from?