Brandon Hemingway, Attorney at law

For the past five years, my family has struggled through law school, harrowing Bar exams (which Brandon missed by tiny percentage points!), and underemployment as we took the journey with my husband to become a lawyer. I hated feeling my children's frustration at the sacrifices even they had to make along the way. Still, like our Mormon pioneer ancestors, we have grown stronger as we pulled this "handcart" together as we crossed these emotional mountains.

I'm sure the pioneers who were "in tune" with the Spirit, could feel when they were getting close to Zion. I know I did. I wonder what the pioneers' reaction was when they reached the desert wilderness of the Salt Lake Valley? Did they kiss the ground in gratitude or were they disappointed to see a dry, dusty wasteland near salty water?

For us, we have been a family of gratitude all this week when we arrived in our "Zion" as my husband got his first attorney job. It all started Wednesday night when Brandon found a job posting on a Texas legal website that needed someone with Spanish-speaking skills. We were pleased it was in Houston since only the week before he had been offered a job in Austin which was renegged when a native Mexican associate told the boss that Brandon's Spanish was not "fluent" enough! This time, Brandon was hired by another Latino, Roberto, with open arms. I was thrilled to hear that he would be working in mostly immigration law since I always knew that was where he belonged.

Following Brandon's acceptance to their offer, he took me to the new office to meet his boss the next morning. My first impression of Roberto was that he reminded me of an acquaintance I had in Jr. High. The guy was friendly, casual, and had a spark of fun in his eyes, like that of a mischievous 12-year-old  in a middle-aged body. The other associate, Enrique, appeared a little older, and was amicable, seasoned and extremely "on the ball."

While the firm was small, I could tell that Roberto and Enrique were big hearted men who really seemed to care about those they serve--Roberto had just returned from doing a Spanish radio show where he offers free legal advice to Hispanics (Channel 1010 AM) on Fridays in the Houston area. I was most impressed when Roberto took Brandon and me into the conference room and when his wife called, he took the call, saying he always answers her calls unless he's in court or on the radio and advised Brandon to do the same. Besides immigration law, they also practice criminal, family (except divorce cases), and estate law. Though the pay is not great, the experience will be, as Brandon progresses into the attorney I know he is destined to be.

Brandon Passes the Texas Bar!

On the night of May 3rd, my daughter, Ariel, checked the Texas Bar pass list for the umpteenth time that day and discovered that the name 'Brandon John Hemingway' was listed. She ran into the living room where Brandon and I were, screaming, "DAD PASSED THE BAR! He passed!" My two younger ones were asleep so Ariel wrote it on our Study room's chalkboard, adding, "We're going to Austin!" which is where many new attorneys get sworn in. The success, though, seemed sweeter after the many hardships it took our family to get to that point.

Brandon started law school at Texas Southern University's Thurgood Marshall School of Law mid-August of 2007. Since he received his acceptance only a few days before orientation started, he received permission to miss it,and packed up the family and drove to Houston. With my youngest only a 2-yr-old, I did not want to be in two separate vehicles, so Brandon found an affordable moving company, and he drove our car all the way from Boise, Idaho to the Houston area. He was home with us for only two days before starting school in a primarily African-American university where white males were in the minority. Still, he welcomed the opportunity before moving.

When I told a cousin-in-law that my husband was going to law school, she wished me good luck. I never quite understood why until I my husband got busy with school and a part-time pharmacy tech job, leaving me alone with the kids most of the time. Though I did not have any family that lived nearby, I was grateful for the support of my ward family who buoyed me up when I needed it. Finally after three difficult years, Brandon graduated. We took a brief sigh of relief for a few weeks and then Brandon started studying for the Texas State Bar exam which was only two months later!

Though most law grads take the Barbri Bar prep class that costs $3,000, we could not afford it and Brandon could not work while studying and I could not work since he me home to entertain the kids while he studied. Brandon's attorney grandpa and uncle had helped support us though law school, and during the first Bar, so we did not want to ask for anything more. Brandon, then. bought some used books that were used for the prep class and studied at least 12 hours a day for the next two months.

We learned that the Bar exam is offered in every state at the end of July and the end of February and they make people wait four months for the results. Grrr! When the day came for Brandon to take the Texas Bar, he went in with confidence. This three-day test was mentally exhausting. The first day the test is only four hours, the second and third days, it is eight hours and the days are divided up into state and national parts with either multiple-guess or essay.

After four months of waiting, we found out Brandon did not pass, but only missed passing by one percent! He went on to take it two more times, missing the mark by only small percentage points. I tried to reassure him saying that on any other test it would be like getting an 'A+' and that he should be proud to have done so well while studying on his own. Yet, each time he did not pass was like getting punched in the stomach, then left us in frustration and despair on top of having to telling friends and family.

In the mean time, our current bishop, who was the ward employment specialist at the time, found a job opening at a law firm needing a file clerk. Brandon did that for the next two years at the same time he took each Bar. By the fourth Bar attempt, our attorney friends and the partners at the firm Brandon worked at advised him to take the Barbri class. We will be eternally grateful for the many friends and family who chipped in to help pay the fee. Finally, after taking the class, an additional workshop, and getting a hotel room close to the testing site, Brandon passed!

Perhaps the Lord wanted our family to learn something from this journey. I know that I am not the same as I was five years ago, but am a better, stronger person as is Brandon and the rest of our family. I am starting to see that not passing the Bar exam the first few times, was actually a blessing and kept us right where we were needed to help further the Lord's work. During this time, our children progressed, the Mormon Voice blog in the Houston Chronicle began, and we have had many opportunities for church service and missionary work. Each of our trials was like the excess parts of clay that the "Master Sculptor" scraped off to create His vision of a magnificent piece of art.

In a few days we will go to watch Brandon get sworn in and I know that he will be a great asset to the great state of Texas. Now His success through perseverance means more to us than we ever knew it could.

How does life change thee? Let me count the ways. . .

Frederick Nietzshe must have been speaking from experience when he said, "That which does not kill us makes us stronger." I had a friend who recently told me that everyone will have trials as difficult as those of the Mormon pioneers who journeyed in covered wagons and handcarts over swamps, Indian territory, and treacherous mountains to get to the Salt Lake Valley. They may have started out as a happy-go-lucky people, but ended up more humble and stalwart in their faith in God.

As my sister came to visit me recently, I noticed a similar change in myself to that of the pioneers. While I began as a giddy girl, many life experiences have changed me for the better.

About the end of January, we had a day that tested our faith with a bad rainstorm. While storms are nothing new to the Houston area, this day was something else. Mid-morning, booming thunder began that we could feel shake the ground followed by bright streaks of lightning crackling in the sky. Then came the torrential rain.

Where we live, there are huge storm drains for the water from the streets to run into, but this time it was raining so hard and fast that the storm drains could not keep up and the streets all around us were flooding. When I looked out the window, I noticed the water had gone over the curb and onto the sidewalk, quickly snaking its way onto our front yard and driveway. As I kept a vigilant watch on the local news, I got more and more nervous. While my husband was home studying for the Bar exam, my children were in school--two in elementary school and one in middle school.

I couldn't help but worry for their safety and desperately wanted to check them all out of school before the weather got any worse. Yet, the weather was so awful and the water was rising so much that I couldn't have gotten out of the driveway even if I wanted to. All I could do was pray until I felt they were all safe and their schools were even safer than my home. Needless to say, after a few hours the storm ceased and the water dried up just in time for the kids to come home.

Then a couple weeks later, as I turned on my kitchen light--a four-bulb florescent--I noticed water leaking from it. Puzzled, I stood on a chair to feel the light and noticed it was wet on the ceiling around it. Trying to not to panic, I called my landlady who immediately sent over a team of plumbers. They told us we had a five-foot piece of pipe that had sprung about five leaks and had to be replaced. Though the repair took a couple days, a foot of drywall on the ceiling near the light ripped due to the water leakage. Now we are awaiting someone to fix that!

A week after the pipe incident, the landlords sent another crew over to fix our sinking foundation. They spent the next week digging holes around our house to put cement pillars under the house to lift it up. The worst part was the day of the jackhammer in the garage that made two big holes. It was so loud we could both hear the ear-splitting sound and feel the vibrations under our feet. It was amazing that my husband got any studying for the Bar exam done at all that week. While it is all fixed now, we still are left with both large and small piles of mud. Hopefully nature will fix it on its own.

It is experiences like these that have helped me evolve from a giddy girl to a responsible adult. When I was a kid, my dad always told me that life had a way of changing people. I never understood what he meant until now. I guess he must have read Nietzshe.

2011: In retrospect

As I lay in bed this morning, grateful for the new year of 2012, I started thinking about all that had happened in 2011. It seems that Charles Dickens summed it up best when he said in A Tale of Two Cities, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times." Though it was a difficult year for my family, it was also one of the best.

DAD, OUR HERO
Since my husband had been trying to pass the Bar exam while holding down a part-time job at the same time, life was difficult. Though we were grateful for the work he had attained, it was a constant balancing act. He had tried more than once to pass, only missing the mark by only a few percentage points. In any other class, his scores would have been considered an 'A+,' but still it was not passing. Yet, he was our family's hero and my children and I cherished the time we spent with him.

SACRIFICES
I started the year off with a weekend cleaning job and babysitting a three and five-year-old eight plus hours a day, three days a week. I cleaned houses on my days off until I was run ragged. Needless to say, the cleaning jobs gave me a greater appreciation for my orderly home and lasted only a few months. On the other hand, the babysitting job was hard on me as well as my family, lasting six months.

THE SUMMER OF QUILTS
By the time school was out, my oldest daughter was in Young Women's and was recruited by her Beehive leader to learn to make a patchwork quilt. Her project was contagious and soon my younger children and I began our own projects. It became what we now call "the Summer of Quilts." By the Fall, I had made my first patchwork quilt and now I consider quilting a hobby.

THE MORMON VOICE
By July, I started feeling depressed and regretted that I did not study a more practical major when I was at BYU, way back when. My youngest sister had had a thriving career in nursing and always made a good living. Instead, I studied journalism because that was what I loved. At the beginning of July, I got a call from the Stake Public Affairs director. He had heard about my writing skills and invited me to help in the stake's public affairs. I was dumbfounded since I knew it was a message from the Lord telling me that studying journalism was a part of His plan which only prepared me to help further the Work.

Soon the assignment became a calling on the Richmond Stake Public Affairs Committee as the writer in the group. A month later, I was invited by the Houston Chronicle to write a Mormon blog in their Belief Section. After attaining permission from the Church authorities in Salt Lake, the Mormon Voice blog was born. The only catch was that I would not receive any monetary compensation. Every time I applied for a job that I was more than qualified for, it always fell through. I realized the Lord needed me to do His work and not my own. Ironically, by the end of the year, I received more money through others' generosity than I could have earned in any normal job.

ABBY
As school started back up in the Fall, my youngest daughter had a best friend named Abby that she could not live without. Since Abby's mom worked a full eight-hour day, we volunteered to have Abby come over every day after school. Abby and my daughter were (and still are) inseparable, going to Girl Scouts, Trick-or-Treating, and youth activities together at Church. My daughter has never been happier when Abby is around.

BUGSY
After months of begging, my youngest daughter got her wish on Labor Day of getting a guinea pig, who she named Bugsy. It was a male and was bigger than we realized. He was smaller than a chinchilla, but bigger than a hamster. He was brown with a white patch over one eye and a black one over the other. We were surprised that she never got bored with him and were pleased at how she has learned to be responsible with his care. We always laughed when Bugsy squealed like a little piglet and purred, similar to a cat. Though at first some of us were apprehensive, we have grown to love that little guy and hope he lives for a very long time.

DEPRESSION
In early November, we got word that my husband had again not passed the Bar exam. I realized we had another hard six months ahead of us. He would be taking the grueling Bar exam again in February. That meant another three months of studying and then three more months of waiting for the results. It was more than I could take. Right before Thanksgiving, I spiraled into a deep depression, unable to get out of bed without a Priesthood blessing. After that, things began to improve little my little as I got the help I needed as well as the extra strength from the Lord.

CHRISTMAS 2011
As December rolled around, I began getting better and better every day. One day, at my husband and son's suggestion, I got my hair cut short and went blond! I had never felt better, especially when, no matter where I went, people told me I looked like Marilyn Monroe! That was one of the best cures to jump-start my moods back to normal. Then a week before Christmas, my parents drove down from Utah, spending a week with us. My kids said that was the best Christmas we ever had.

From all our experiences in the past year, my family is closer to each other and to God. Now I think we are ready for whatever 2012 sends our way.

Thanksgiving in Texas

I grew up in a family with a mom and grandmas who were fantastic cooks. When I was a kid, we always were surrounded by family--aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents-- at Thanksgiving. The women all worked in the kitchen, while the men watched football and joked around as the kids ran around my grandma's house. Of course there was a kids' table and a grown up's table, where we ate an afternoon feast of all the food you could eat and lots of homemade pies for dessert.

Afterward, my parents expected us to help clean up the kitchen and assist with hand-washing and drying Grandma's dishes (we never used paper plate or plastic silverware. Later we would piece on leftovers then pile in the living room for a family movie night while my grandpa and the occasional uncle conked out, snoring in an easy chair.

Now, with a husband and three kids of my own, I miss the family gathering that Thanksgiving brought during my childhood since I live far away from my family. My kids do not have the luxury of hanging out with their cousins at Thanksgiving. Sadly, I did not get the "cooking" gene. Anyone who knows me will know that I HATE to cook and avoid it at all costs. As every Thanksgiving approaches, I dread having to cook a huge feast like my grandma and mom did. It just intimidates me! On years when I volunteer to do it (if we are not invited anywhere), my husband won't let me cook since he knows it stresses me out too much and ruins the day for everyone. Instead, he would sometimes scrape some money together and taken us out to a Thanksgiving buffet.

Since my husband and I have very little family in Texas, we have begun to realize just how lonely the holidays can be without extended family. Our first year here, we had a Thanksgiving ham since we did not want to waste a big Turkey on our small family and were on a law school budget. My kids say that year was a "boring Thanksgiving" with just our family.

Over the years, however, many friends have taken us in. Our second year in Texas, we had Thanksgiving with my sister, Melissa and her in-laws and our friends, the Bassetts. Besides the normal Thanksgiving turkey and trimmings, my brother-in-law made mussels one year which added a coastal touch. A few years later, we spent another Thanksgiving with them in College Station where my sister and her husband live. We all squeezed into a cozy apartment of a friend of theirs for another scrumptious meal. I will never forget how my son, who was five at the time, came dressed in his Native American headband and vest that he made in school. My kids sang songs and then my eldest daughter gave them a concert on her violin. What fun memories!

This year as well as another year, we spent Thanksgiving with our good friends, the Huebers, who made the best turkey cooked in a pillow-case doused in butter and had many Southern side-dishes, such as creamed corn, cornbread stuffing, and green bean casserole flavored with bacon. YUM!

At Thanksgiving, I am especially grateful for all those who have taken in a lady who hates to cook and her family. Eventually, I will be brave enough to host my own Thanksgiving and take in holiday orphans, just like us.

The Mormon Voice

One morning in mid-July, I got up early to bid my husband good-bye before leaving for work, then headed back to bed. As I lay resting on my pillow, all cozy in my bed, the Spirit distinctly told me to "get up and get up NOW!" I was tired and since I am a not a morning person, I rolled over and attempted to go back to sleep. Again, the prompting came, "Get up NOW and send an email to the Houston Chronicle." Then without warning, I felt myself being pushed out of bed, a similar feeling that I had experienced when "moved by the Spirit" to bear my testimony on Fast Sundays.

A few weeks before, I had been called to serve on my stake's Public Affairs Committee. They were overjoyed to learn that I had a degree in Journalism and was quickly assigned to write articles for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints which were sent to many local media outlets--one of which was the Houston Chronicle.

My first assignment had been to write about the conversion story of a lady in my ward who found the Mormon Church while serving in the Army. My Public Affairs director and I prayed all week that the Houston Chronicle would publish that story.

On that morning in July, the Spirit told me to submit that story to the Houston Chronicle via email. Although I would be breaking the protocol of my calling since I was normally supposed to submit all my work to my stake director before any publication, the Spirit told me not to worry and that I should go ahead with the email.

With faith in my Heavenly Father, I submitted the email to the Houston Chronicle's Religion editor and waited. Just 24 hours later, I heard back from the Chronicle, only it was from a different editor who happened to be the editor and producer of the paper's online Belief section. She invited me to write a Mormon blog. While I was thrilled for her invitation, I told her I first had to get permission from my Church leaders.

From there, my local leaders sent word to our regional leaders who sent word all the way back to Salt Lake. After three weeks of waiting, I finally got permission to write the blog--which we named the Mormon Voice--under the direction of my stake and local leaders (http://blog.chron.com/mormonvoice/).

Now I know it was a great blessing to the people of our area to have Mormon blog to teach and inform our community about the Church. My leaders told me that it was a miracle because the paper had refused to publish anything of ours for years. Now with a new, young online editor with a Master's Degree in religions studies, the door had been opened to us. Annnd, that initial story about my Army friend, was one of our first posts on the blog and was read by many more people online.

In spite of receiving much opposition to destroy this work, I have experienced the sweetest joy and have gained a fulfillment that my life was lacking.

While I enjoy donating my time to write for the Church, I know that the Mormon Voice blog does not belong to me, but to our Savior, Jesus Christ, since it is His Church. It reminds me of the scripture from Moses, "For behold, this is my work and my glory to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man."

Although I do not know if this blog will help or convert anyone, I at least know it has changed me.

Gladys Knight , the Gospel-Singing Mormon

Gladys Knight, the Grammy-winning singer, has a heart of gold with a golden voice. A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to attend a concert given by Gladys Knight and her 55-member choir, Saints Unified Voices. The choir put on nine shows over the course of four days in two LDS churches in Houston. I attended an evening performance at a chapel that was filled to capacity of 1500 people, most of whom were not members of our church.

For Gladys Knight and the SUV Choir to visit us in Houston was a miracle! The Choir has a very long waiting list for their visits and given Gladys Knight’s schedule, they only visit a handful of cities each year.

Besides, her lively version of Because I Have Been Given Much, the Choir's music consisted of many Gospel favorites such as Jesus Loves Me, His Eye is on the Sparrow, Blessed Assurance, and Via Dolorosa. I loved that she was a Mormon, singing Gospel songs to the Baptists and Catholics!

Gladys got the idea for her choir a few years ago when she sang at a concert commemorating President Gordon B. Hinckley's 90th birthday. When he teasingly confronted her about not liking the Church's music, Gladys answered that she did, but that it "needed just a little more energy." He told her, "Do something about it!" and ever since she has been singing in cities across the United States and around the world.

The Choir’s gospel music, which was all arranged by Gladys Knight, was beautiful and it was an awesome sight to see the audience connect with her as she and her Choir received several standing ovations. A woman sitting near me had tears streaming down her face throughout the two-hour performance!

My favorite part of the night, however, was when Gladys spoke of how she found our Church. Her son, Jimmy, was the first to be baptized and he "sneaked and did it." Being worried about her son, she studied our faith at first to make sure he had not "walked into the lion's den."

Gladys Knight's daughter, Kenya, followed Jimmy’s example and was next to accept our faith. She watched her children's families' spiritual progression and wanted more spirituality in her own life. Kenya told her mom that she needed to meet with our missionaries, who Gladys described as "respectful," and "all dressed up and crisp with pants (up) where they need to be." She was impressed with how they did not try to sell her our church, but rather told her that she should ask God what she should do and that He would answer her prayers. After receiving that answer, Gladys Knight was baptized by her son, Jimmy.

After her own baptism, Gladys wanted nothing more than to be a missionary. The audience laughed when she said, "Somebody get me a bike!" Now, she has her wish as she is a set-apart missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Investigators who come to her concert are invited to fill out a pull-apart card from the program so that they can receive the free gift of the CD One Voice, which contains music from the concert, a DVD of The Restoration, and a Book of Mormon.

I loved how she said, "It has been a wonderful journey. I am a brand new person."
Then, as she exited the stage, she briefly shook a few people's hands. I was close enough to touch her, but she was quickly whisked out the door by her security guards.

I cannot imagine a world without Gladys Knight! While some may have come to hear Midnight Train to Georgia, this concert's music and message was more than crowd-pleasing as it was dedicated to feeding people's souls. We love you, Gladys!